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hansoulo · 3 years

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lay back in cloying sin

part three of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW-ish; references to marks and bruises, kissing, probably inaccurate descriptions of ballroom dancing, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/ktfhett

A/N: boba & reader: [tyler the creator voice] oh no i hope i don’t fall

༓ series masterlist ༓

Dinner was a tedious affair, filled with hollow pageantry. It was one last hurrah before the send off of the honored guests, one of which you’d never talked to and the other who was nowhere to be found. The former, Lord Vader, sat at the head of the long table and made for very unamusing company. You had the distinct impression that he’d rather be anywhere than here, having to listen to his uniformed subordinates squabble in grating voices and your father simper about mining collectives. That made for two of you.

But the cavernous banquet hall was always beautiful, if a bit ostentatious, and the food never disappointed, so you consoled yourself with a loosened corset and the promise of a second dinner by servants who pitied your forced small portions.

You floated into the large room, shuffled through by the compounding procession before an older man offered to help you into your seat. The ornateness of your evening wear made you grateful for the help, watching in sincere thanks as he pulled out the high-backed chair.

“Thank you, um…” the color of his robes and the softness of his hands signalled high rank and you chanced a guess. “Duke...?”

“Sagcock,” he finished for you. “Jovron Sagcock.”

He has got to be joking.

Evidently, he wasn’t.

If the man saw you choke on a laugh, sputtering it into a hiccup as you sat down, he pretended not to notice. After all, princesses knew better than to be unbecoming or crass or know why any part of that exchange could be fodder for humor.

Fighting down one last cough, you attempted to regain some sense of decorum. What a wonderful start to the evening.

The arrangement of persons on this particular night was strange though, even disregarding the title of the man now seated beside you. There were more people than usual filling out the hall tonight, all fancily clad and buffed to shining. Boba wasn’t anywhere to be found.

The supposed importance of the occasion probably necessitated a shuffling of seats to soothe egos and encourage conversation, but you weren’t used to being so close to the head of the table, near parallel with your mother. Usually your elder sisters sat higher and provided you the benefit of distance. Of course, they were all gone now. Your brother was still too young to be at evening dinners, so there was no buffer between you and your parents’ ire.

Maybe this was the Maker’s way of getting back at you for your tiny tryst. Maybe they all knew about what happened in the garden and were just waiting for the shoe to drop, branding you as a harlot and finally letting you free. Vader’s static words travelled down the table and mingled with your father’s but you were too busy entertaining worse-case scenarios to understand conversation.

People were observing you, you realized partway through the first round of courses. Watching you with strange eyes as if you were the last scrap of halfway-spoiled meat for imperial officials and all the nobility that had come to pay their prostrate respects. No one had really given half a damn about you before, which made it all the more strange.

A heel foot softly kicked at yours underneath the table, breaking you out of your glazed thoughts. The fork you had been mindlessly moving across your plate stopping mid-swirl. Looking up, you met the quiet glare of your mother and cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked. Your question was punctuated with a smile too large to be genuine. The queen’s head jerked towards the grizzled man seated to her right and you turned towards him at her behest, face open in trained invitation. “Oh, hello, General.”

General Enes, current commander of the army of Quas Killam. Not strictly Imperial, but aligned close enough to have him in the king’s good graces and to reside permanently at court. He was also a Duke and probably a cousin thrice removed, but who was counting?

“No need to stand on pleasantries, your Highness,” the gray-haired man assured you, one large hand resting over his stomach as servants replaced the dirtied plates in front of you with new ones. You only sipped delicately at your algarine as he chortled and remembered, “It seems like yesterday that you were running around the palace with your sisters. A little sprite of a thing, weren’t you?”

Was he drunk already? “Yes, I remember,” you tread pleasantly; carefully.

The general settled and let out one last chuckle before his eyes grew hawk-like again, trained in the jewelry and accoutrements that signified your being old enough to marry but young enough to have not yet been taken. Like a prize. Or a charity donation. “You’ve grown into quite the young woman, you know.”

So that’s where this was going. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and tried to look gracious. “Thank you, sir. That’s a high compliment.”

“How old are you again, dear?”

Masking your surprise at the forwardness of the question, you supplied your age to a nod of approval from both him and your mother.

“A good age, I’d say. ‘Round the same as my youngest.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” you shot a look down the table and caught a glimpse of cropped flaxen hair, its owner sitting enough seats down to prevent any shared conversation. You counted your blessings for it and smiled, tight-lipped. “Your son and I shared company when we were children.”

“Well that’s very nice,” the queen interjected quite loudly and looked around the long table with a light laugh but cold eyes. “Isn’t that nice?”

Your father looked at you for the first time all evening as if on cue, boring a hole into your face with the words he seemed to be telepathically trying to put in your mouth.

The taste of bitter wine on your tongue made your thoughts fevered, though not borne out of alcohol so much as the memories of someone else’s touch in the same places. “Yes,” you repeated vaguely. “Very nice.”

Darth Vader apparently didn’t remove his helmet. You wondered why he came to dinner at all.

The remaining evening hours had been whittled away by dessert and drinks. Everyone who cared to stay shuffled into the ballroom, a behemoth of a thing filled with inky windows and sparkling artifice. It was a blur of waltzes and predetermined couplings with boys you’d been ignoring since you were old enough to kick them in their shins, but you didn’t care enough to go to pains to avoid it. They broke up the monotony of introductions, at least, and let your mind and body be somewhere else for a while.

All compounded, the night left you flushed and tired. You needed alcohol. Or air. The latter was probably the more reasonable choice of the two.

Being in the midst of ballroom theatrics allowed for an easy enough escape, and a side entrance to a balcony overlooking the palace grounds became the object of your attention.

The tall double doors lay open in their glass encasings and spilled out lamplight refractions on the guests’ gaudy clothing and gaudier jewelry, everything sparkling and warm. But you were far enough away from it to still be chilled by the night air, a balm for your flushed cheeks and fizzling temper.

Usually guests ignored it in favor of staying indoors, so you were fairly confident in the promise of solitude and an undisturbed breeze.

But someone apparently had the same idea as you.

“Hello,” you ventured out a greeting to the silhouette not yet fully in your vision. You stepped closer and the heels of your shoes echoed on clay tiles. “I’m sorry, am I bothering you?”

Royal Highnesses shouldn’t really care about whether or not they were disturbing strange party guests, you could make them leave if you felt so inclined, but something in you was feeling magnanimous tonight. You tried not to think about why.

The figure didn’t turn back towards you, still facing out towards the blurry glitter of urban lights far off in the distance. It looked pretty this far away, all glowing masses and amorphous buildings that scraped the sky. You’d never been close enough to see all the dinge and smog that made its home in places not populated by princesses. Marble felt more familiar than metal.

The man wore metal too, and his voice scraped at your chest when he answered. “You’re not bothering me, princess.”

Oh.

You ventured cautiously towards the balcony’s edge, next to the man you now could recognize as Boba. The thick stone railing was cool to the touch. “Hello.”

His helmet tipped to the left, which was probably his way of saying it back.

“I didn’t see you at the dinner,” you noticed quietly. Would it be presumptuous to assume he was avoiding you? Intellect said yes, but ego didn’t listen. You leant forward, the speckled marble digging into your elbows as you mirrored Boba’s sightline out into the city. “You know, you wouldn’t have needed to make conversation. Lord Vader was the guest of honor and all he did was sit there.”

“I don’t like crowds.”

“Ah.”

A silence lapsed between you, awkward as if you were strangers. You were though, weren’t you? Strangers. Not friends. Not lovers. Not really.

But if he asked you to crack yourself open for him, you would. You would rip apart every satin petticoat and snap the boning in your corsets until your hands were raw if it meant he would touch you; skin to skin. You’d run away and cite a hidden fountain as the reason why.

You didn’t know what he’d give up for you, if anything. Boba didn’t seem like the type to have much in the first place. Either by choice or by necessity.

The garden afternoon nagged at you after having time to form coherent thoughts, and the fizzy shine of palace lights reflecting off his helmet reminded you of what you’d been meaning to ask.

Night made you softer-spoken. “Why did you let me take off your helmet?”

Night made his edges sharper. “Why did you want to?”

“I asked first,” you volleyed back as reason enough to get an answer first.

Boba wasn’t a Mandalorian in the true sense of the word, at least that’s what gossip told you, so it didn’t really matter if he took the helmet off or not. But he kept it on in front of everyone else.

The hunter gave you visor-silence and your impatience made you concede. “I just wanted to see you,” you breathed out, still not looking at him. The admission sounded much more naive than you intended.

His words held their characteristic aloofness but were edged by gentle teasing. “What if I said the same?”

That he wanted to see you?

You still didn’t understand half of why he did what he did and what he wanted, but you turned to face him head-on anyway. Cold moonlight fell on your neck and the air cracked with fever. You tried to reply in jest. “Then I’d say that you were being stupid.”

“You’d be right.”

A swallow bobbed in your throat. He always seemed to take up your vision; fill it and suffocate you with seemingly no effort. “And then I’d ask you to do it again.”

“Do what, princess?”

He knew. He just liked seeing the words come out of your mouth.

“Let me take your helmet off.”

This time, he guided your hands up himself. They were slow and almost careful running across your palms, placing them on the mechanisms your fingers found in quick memory. Set on the balcony railing, the helmet seemed to be a prop. An upside down bucket filled with all the things you had yet to say to each other, spilling out onto the ground in a fog.

“I like you better without it,” you decided when he turned back towards you, his weight still resting on the railing with one cocked hip. Everything about the way he looked was dark: inky black curls and scarred brown skin and eyes that pushed the air in your lungs with a stall and a catch. They looked even darker next to tan clothes and green armor.

His voice wasn’t entirely lacking in humor. He did that. Humored you. “Do you now?”

“Mhm.” you nodded with fake seriousness, slightly giddy and slightly too brave. You blamed it on an excess of wine and good company. “Better-looking.”

He only scoffed, a flash of pearl-white canines serving as one half of a smile. A smile that had been wider when it was against your collarbones, your neck, your mouth. A smile that you wouldn’t mind being in other places.

You nudged Boba’s shoulder with your own when a waltz kicked up in the background, faint through the open ballroom door. “There’s music,” you implied, half-joking and half-expectant. There had been this whole time, of course, but acknowledging it now seemed better than never. “You should ask me to dance.”

“I’m not one for dancing, your Highness.”

The title made you roll your eyes, a commonplace formality that you usually insisted on but now found overly facetious. Coming from him, that is. “Clearly not,” you almost snorted. Pushing away from the marble ledge with a finality that seemed almost comical, you held your hand out and waited, eyebrows raising and fingers beckoning. Well? your face seemed to say, Are you coming?

His sigh was bone-deep and settled in your chest like chunks of black plaster, but it felt good. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, as if it’d be ridiculous to expect anything else. Princesses danced with men at parties. You were a princess. Boba was a man at a party. In a roundabout sort of way. “It’s easy, I promise,” you assured, wrapping your hand around his wrist and pulling him away from the balcony. His glove slipped down a bit; just enough that your thumb could press one soft circle against the tan skin over bone.

Uncomfortable wasn’t really the correct word for how you thought he felt. You doubted Boba could ever be uncomfortable. No. No, the right word would probably be… bemused. Like he was in a menagerie watching a creature, something exotic and pretty, with mild interest while it still had his attention. But you did have his attention. That was something.

“You put your right hand on my waist,” you moved to reposition the large fingers more accustomed to blasters than they were to bodices. Boba smirked, almost boyish, when you caught his hand wandering someplace else. “Not that low,” you chided with quiet exasperation, placing your palm atop his and guiding it back up.

The pale leather was warm underneath your skin and you bit down a smile, almost awe-struck at how strange your hand looked next to his. Yours was polished, weighed down by heavy gold bangles and softened by years of idle play. His, you suspected (for you didn't actually know; hadn’t yet actually seen), was anything but.

“That’s good,” you supplied lightly. “And then I do this,”your other hand reached to rest on Boba’s shoulder. “And then- no, no you give me your left hand. Hold it out- good.”

Still looking down, you were careful not to trip over your skirts or his boots. “And now we just-” you breathed out and glanced up, surprised to find his expression strangely careful. Almost tender. You gulped down the quiet notch in your throat. “-now we just um… sway. Like this.”

You eschewed complication in favor of a simple rhythm, just letting your feet fall wherever they liked so long as they didn’t tangle in themselves. Now wasn’t the time for anything laborious; you didn’t have faith enough in Boba’s footwork. But he actually wasn’t too bad all things considered. A bit stiff and a bit gruff, but those were part and parcel. It was a bit like dancing with a tree trunk. A very handsome, very broad, very taciturn tree trunk. It was easy to let yourself sink into it a little with how solid he felt.

The man arched an eyebrow when your fingers stretched to thread together with his. “Just sway?”

“You’re welcome to do a jig instead if you’d like,” you replied wryly as your weight shifted from foot to foot. The hand around your waist stiffened at the prospect and a grin escaped your face.

“Nevermind.”

The amusement that had previously only been in your throat escaped in a quiet laugh. “Thought so,” you whispered, victorious. Tension, bunched up in your shoulders and collected in your bones, melted completely when he pulled you closer and let your head fall against the space of his neck. Sinew fit against silk like puzzle pieces and warmed the quiet moment that followed. Neither of you spoke for fear of disturbing the fresh peace.

You found yourself dwelling more and more on hypotheticals. Unrealistic and stupid, you knew, given who you both were. But still you dwelt, unable to fathom a reality outside of the last nine hours and inside a reality within which Boba was gone.

Would he fit here, with the stucco and plaster and ivy? With all the sheltered society of an insignificant court? With you?

You wondered if he dwelt on hypotheticals, too.

Swallowing cold air as Boba thumbed the collar of your dress, you felt the light scatter of broken blood vessels from hours before smart again. Your cheek pressed against the pauldron of his beskar, but neither of you were really dancing anymore. “I- I wanted to talk,” you began quietly. “About earlier.”

“Did you not like it?” Did you not like me?

“No! No, I…” you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of his assumption. The crystals hanging from your headpiece tinkled with every soft movement. “No, I… I liked it. I like…” The lump in your throat seemed to travel down back into your stomach. “You,” you finished, swallowing the final word and leaving all its implications to settle in the night.

He could feel the rise and fall of your chest; delicate and airy and resigned. You spoke again. “But you’re leaving tomorrow and... and we could’ve been caught. And the more I think about it the more I really am not looking forward to the idea of some court scandal or being cloistered up like a nun because I—”

He called you your name.

He’d never used your name before.

You lifted your head off his shoulder, desperate-eyed and looking for answers you both knew he couldn’t give. “Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

You barely breathed out an okay before the arm around your waist tightened, crushing you against cold metal and a warm body.

He kissed you how a lover would. Like how a first kiss should’ve been.

It was gentle. Warm. Tender-mouthed and aching, placing promises down your throat with a soft hand and closed eyes. It was… It was…

It was broken up far too quickly.

A voice called out your name from somewhere far-off, regally accented and not at all welcome. It called your name again, first middle and last with all the titles in between with much less patience. Your mother, queen consort.

The groan of displeasure that escaped you was muffled in Boba’s mouth and swallowed up before it could give either of you away. He recovered much faster than you did, peeling back from your body with eyes already alert and scanning the shadows for passersby. There were none. For now.

“It’s my mother,” you whispered, letting your eyes roll seemingly out of your skull. “They’re probably doing some send-off for Vader’s entourage.”

Neither of you mentioned the fact that Boba was part of that entourage too.

Your last words were rushed before the footsteps became too close and the mercenary pulled away. You didn’t really want to stay to hear the answer. “Will I see you again?”

Boba Fett, you’d come to learn, wasn’t the kind of man to offer more than what he knew he could give.

The helmet went back on. “I don’t know.”’

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett imagine #boba fett oneshot #star wars fanfiction

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facesofone · 2 years

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Hello again. First off I wanted to say thank you so much to Kyra who answered my last ask especially for how long it was. It was helpful and I do appreciate it.

Per another's advice I tried to tell a step back to avoid information overload and give my thoughts time to settle and process. And as I did this a dream came back to memory and there was this person that I could only see just at a certain angle from the corner of my eye, but I could always hear him. I began to wonder if it were possible that he was actually an alter because it the dream I knew that he was an extension of myself and that was why only I could see him. It admittedly felt like a stretch and even while I tried to brush it off, the idea hovered in the back of my mind.

Fast forward to today and I happened across a video on the Alexandrite System's YouTube channel where Susan mentioned similar experiences with their system and dreams.

All of that rambling context (sorry) to ask if maybe you or any of your followers had similar experiences, and if he really is an alter how can I reach out to him?

In all honesty part of me is still scared I'm somehow subconsciously making this all up, despite the fact that the possibility of OSDD1 came up when I wasn't looking for it and this video came up without me specifically looking for information about alters and dreams, so I do want to tread carefully, but I also don't want to block out answers out of fear of accidentally making things up. (I hope that last bit makes sense).

Again, I'm so sorry for how long this is and I truly appreciate your help in the past.

Ahhh! I'm so sorry, I did end up forgetting to respond to this. I had a small comic somewhere about this tipic that I wanted to include but didn't find it.

Yes. Luna came to us not in a dream but in an even deeper place. Jak had a breakdown and fled to the deepest recesses of our mind (Ian went with him) leaving Atom and me to take care of the system. In that space he met another alter, he didn't know her name, her dispostion, or why she was here. In a dream he visited us to tell us this. It would be about a month before they both came back and another couple weeks before Luna introduced herself to us.

Give it time (ironic that I let this ask sit (again I'm so sorry)) and when a new alter is ready they will come forth. They may be waiting until the life NEEDS them, or maybe they aren't ready.

The complexity of being a system can be very confusing, but you aren't alone in those feelings. I've experienced this, and I'm sure many others reading this have something similar. Just remember, you can't accidentally fake something; faking is the intentional act of deception. So whatever you're feeling is valid, the only way to lie to yourself is to actively do it; if you have to ask, you probably aren't.

I hope this helps and it's not too late of an answer.

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potteresque-ire · 3 years

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More ask answer about Word of Honour (山河令, WoH) and the so-called “Dangai 101 phenomenon” under the cut ~ with all the M/M relationships shown on screen, does it mean improved acceptance / safety for the c-queer community?

Due to its length (sorry!), I’ve divided the answer into 3 parts: 1) Background 2) Excerpts from the op-eds 3) Thoughts This post is PART 3 💚. As usual, please consider the opinions expressed as your local friendly fandomer sharing what they’ve learned, and should, in no ways, be viewed as necessarily true. :)

(TW: homophobic, hateful speech quoted)

Here are the key points I’ve picked up from these op-eds:

* The state believes Danmei can turn young people queer. * The state also believes Dangai dramas can turn young men “feminine” to suit the taste of Dangai’s young, largely female audience. * The state views queerness in both sexes, and androgynous beauty in men as negative traits. * The state is wary of Danmei and Dangai’s popularity and wishes to contain them as subcultures. * The state is particularly annoyed by how the Dangai dramas have achieved their popularity with CP-focused promotions and marketing tactics, in which the actors are involved and blur the line between fictional and real-life suggestions of queerness.

What do I think of, concerning the acceptance and/or safety of … everything, with the above opinions given by the state media about Dangai?

* For c-queers, I don’t think things are different from before—these op-eds didn’t change the big picture for me. The op-eds taking traditional BL characterisation for Dangai / Danmei means the state’s intended focus of the genres is not its queerness; this is not unexpected, as the established review system is supposed to have removed the show’s queer elements, and to characterise those elements as queer would be a critique against the NRTA.

While unpleasant, the veiled, antagonistic view towards non-traditional gender expressions and homosexuality isn’t new: the state has long believed popular culture can turn its young male audience “feminine”; the NRTA directive that bans homosexual content from visual media already makes clear its stance that homosexuality is, while not criminal, something that is Not Good in its eyes.

A (very) good thing that can be said, I think, is that none of the op-eds explicitly disapprove of the queer elements, the things that got away from being censored—of which there were, arguably, many in WoH. While Article O2a noted such “playing edge ball” (note the articles use this term to avoid mentioning “queer”), the comment right after was neutral / positive (“provide their audience with room for imagination”). Article O3, meanwhile, acknowledged that Dangai can be imitated by introducing suggestive atmosphere between male characters in their plot layout, thereby admitting that suggestive atmosphere between male characters in their plot layout is a defining trait of Dangai—and it didn’t say anything bad about it; the criticism was only for non-Dangai playacting Dangai.

This signals, to me at least, that Dangai can continue to be the cover for queer relationships to reach its audience for now — which is, perhaps, the best case scenario for continued queer representation on TV, given the current sociopolitical climate.

* For Danmei / Dangai, I’d also venture to say the genres are safe. Upcoming Dangais may need to undergo stricter / further reviews (if the rumours surrounding Immortality 皓衣行 are to be believed), and whether they can still achieve explosive popularity after such reviews remains a question; the genres themselves, however, will likely survive.

Article O1 was a very positive, very enthusiastic review of WoH; its determined focus on the show’s aesthetics (as TU’s review) signals to me that the state approved of the genre’s take on aesthetics—which, again, also includes the aesthetics of a world cleansed of its real problems, which also aligns with the NRTA’s directive on TV / web dramas to focus on the positives of life in the country (Previously translated in this post: D12: … They [Pie note: the dramas] cannot place too strong an emphasis on social conflicts, must showcase the beautiful lives of the commoners.). Article O2b was very critical at places, but actually tried to sever Danmei / Dangai from its major complaint, argued that the attention-grabbing gimmicks path was taken * instead of * aspiring to positively, proactively guide and display Danmei culture, therefore positioning Danmei on the “good side”. While Danmei was named a (bad) influence for potentially turning youths queer (and predator, by the cartoon) in Article O2a, no mention was made of eliminating the genre both in the same Article or its editorial (Article O2b). The focus was placed, instead, on the subculture’s “containment”, and how it has been broken for “Rot Culture” to reach mainstream. The implied solution to Danmei’s “bad influence”, therefore, was to re-contain rather than eliminate.

[Logically, of course, this makes little sense. Blaming Danmei on turning youths queer is already confusing correlation and causation—youths may be drawn to Danmei because they are queer, rather than Danmei turning them queer. Re-containment, meanwhile, suggests that the state, which isn’t a fan of gays, is okay with Danmei turning kids gay… as long as there aren’t a lot of kids.

However, I’m hoping to tease out what the state may do, not whether the state is logically sound.]

Article O3 had the harshest wording on Danmei—“the canon and the Rot Culture behind it still hides large amounts of pornographic, violent content…”; “this vulgar custom of “playing edge ball” as a means to tempt, to lead the audience into indulging in fantasies [Pie note: sexual fantasies implied by the idiom 想入非非] have spread from visual media production…” . Still, no word on axing the genre, only containment.

* For CP culture, specifically, actor-character based CPs that are promoted with the dramas: while I don’t see it on the chopping board yet, these op-eds are, I believe, warnings for those in charge of the promotion and marketing of the upcoming Dangai dramas to tread carefully. I find the reach of these warnings difficult to predict still, because these warnings can be genuine—as in, the government truly believes the CP-focused promotion and marketing tactics are morally objectionable—or they can be more for show, in that the true reason behind the warnings is that CP-focused promotions, which also put a heavy focus on in-drama candies, make the NRTA / censorship board look like a joke and the government had to put up some objections to save face.

In all cases, companies will likely need to talk to the government to nail down its stance. Whether to heed the warnings afterwards, tone down or eliminate the CP-focused promotions will require a thorough risk-benefit analysis. After all, CP culture appears to sits at the heart of the money-making machinery of Dangai dramas. The expenditure of fans is mainly to support their favourite actors and see their interactions, and money is, ultimately, what Dangai 101 is about.

Finally, for the sake of completion ~ how likely did these op-eds reflect the actual opinions of the state? Here are the sources of the articles:

Article O1: 上觀新聞, which is under Liberation Daily 解放日報, the official daily newspaper of the Shanghai Committee of the Chinese Communist Party.

Article O2: 半月談 Banyue Tan, a state-controlled biweekly magazine published by the Xinhua News Agency, the official state-run press agency of China.

Article O3: 光明日報 Enlightenment Daily, a newspaper associated with Central Committee of the Communist Party of China (中共中央機關報).

None of them are of the calibre of People’s Daily (official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Chinese Communist Party). However, they’re all very well-respected state-sponsored sources. Banyue Tan does require an asterisk ~ while affiliated with the Xinhua News Agency, the massive influence of which has earned it its nickname “the world's biggest propaganda agency”, Banyue Tan‘s authority on this particular issue of Danmei/Dangai has been somewhat undermined by a … strange (?) trivia to end this super long piece: the magazine has also been caught in the controversy surrounding 227. Due to its pro-TU, pro-Gg stance, antis have insisted there are Gg fans within its writer’s ranks, who have used the state-sponsored publication for their private, support-Gg purposes. To this day, the argument is ongoing—with the criticism of Danmei in Article O2 sparking another round of “discussion” due to its previous approval of TU—and the lead anti is a well-known international politics professor and CCP (Chinese Communist Party) mouthpiece named Shen Yi (沈逸), whose claim to fame was the US government cancelling his visa and denying him entry due to suspected espionage …

[Banyue Tan was not the only state-sponsored publication caught in 227′s cross-fire. This is one of the reasons why some political watchers have suspected 227 to have a political component, that some form of political power struggle was happening in the post-227 chaos and disguised as the fan war.

While the truth may never be revealed, one thing is for certain ~ fan wars are about the worst things fans can do for their favourite idols, by lending space for such veiled conflicts to happen, by lending the names of their idols / their idols’ fans to the actually warring parties who may not wish to reveal who they are.]

[Okay okay, I will shut up now :) ].

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 <-- YOU ARE HERE

#pie metas #yizhan #bjyx

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spicycreativity · 3 years

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Fantasy au moceit fluff, for the ask thing. <3<3

Thank you for the request! And sorry it took so long to fill 😅

I went with a Mushishi fusion. The simplest explanation of Mushishi is that mushi are creatures somewhat analogous to fae/faeries and tend to cause chaos when they interact with humans. So it's Japanese fantasy, but it's still fantasy!

I could go on a whole rant about how Mushishi is such a great reflection of Japanese cultural Shintoism and how Janus as a character rejects that and Patton embraces it, which is a fun juxtaposition because Janus is the mushi-shi in this story, but I won't 😇

Anyway! It's a little under 2k, CW for very mild body/eye horror (Patton temporarily gets afflicted with frog traits that affect his skin and eyes)

The steep mountain path was neither well-worn nor clearly-marked, the ground a uniform carpet of deep green pine needles dotted here and there with pinecones. Still, it was a path Janus could tread with his remaining eye closed. A few wooden signs still stood, though they were mostly grown over with moss. Janus let them be. Very few visitors came to this tiny mountain village, at least by this particular path. He was more interested in the chorus of frog croaks that grew ever louder the closer he got to the village. He thought, though it was hard to be certain, wispy and ephemeral as they were, that the mushi were increasing in density, too. This place had always been a hotbed for mushi, even without Janus' presence to draw them near. It was unusual, he reflected, to hear this many frogs this high in the mountains. The croaks were now a maddening constant, enough to make him wish that he only had one working ear, instead of one eye.

He guarded that wish carefully, in case any mushi with the power to make it come true were nearby.

He made it into the village unscathed, pausing when he realized that the croaking had stopped. For the most part. He looked around, rubbing his face against the sharp, familiar bite of the mountain wind, cooled further still by the nearby presence of a lake. Now, only one plaintive croak reached his ears. He tried not to let his heart sink, tried not to jump to conclusions, though he set off for the house where his sweetheart waited for him with an uncharacteristic urgency in his movements.

The life of a mushi-shi did not foster close relationships, and Janus had long since closed off his heart to new connections. Growing close was a one-way journey to becoming hurt, as he could never stay anywhere for long. Yet somehow, on a trip to a lonely mountain village, Patton had slipped through his defenses. They couldn’t be together, not the way they wanted, but they had promised themselves to each other. It was an easy thing for Janus to promise not to love another. The challenge had been in entrusting Patton with his heart. But he had gotten there in the end. In the absence of a proper wedding ceremony, they had simply taken a scrap of the other’s clothing as a token.

Janus didn’t bother to knock on the door when he arrived. Patton’s door was always unlocked, unbarricaded. To Janus’ dismay, the croaking did not stop upon his arrival inside, and several mushi danced in the corners where the walls met the ceiling. “Patton, love?”

“Don’t come closer!” Patton’s voice was high, tight with panic. “Just wait a second,” he added in a pleading tone. “I’m glad you’re back, but--”

“Having trouble with mushi?” Janus guessed. The singular frog croaks had stopped when Patton spoke. “Please, do keep worrying about how I’m going to react.” he tugged on the scrap of cloth tied to the straps of his woven backpack. It was old and tattered now, no longer smelled like Patton or bore the pattern it had before.

“It’s just…” Croak.

Janus considered. Whatever mushi had latched onto Patton, it was probably affecting his appearance, hence the hesitancy. “Come on, love, let me see. I’ll have you cured in no time.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Besides, it’s not like I’m a paragon of good looks, either. Maybe we’ll match for a bit.” This was only partially true in Janus’ mind. His own looks were inoffensive, but strangers tended to shy away from him, frightened by the piercing gold and slitted pupil of his remaining eye.

It was silent for a moment. Then came the shuffle-scrape of bare feet on wooden floors. Patton appeared at the end of the hall with his head angled downward. Even still, Janus could see the patches of mottled brown skin on his hands and cheeks. Frog skin. “We do match a little,” Patton said, forcing humor into his voice. He came closer and lifted his head to reveal that one of his eyes was now golden, with a horizontal pupil.

“Oh,” said Janus, careful not to tease. “That’s not so bad.” He cupped Patton’s face, gently running his thumb over a slightly damp patch of frog skin. “You’re still beautiful, love.”

“But you can cure it?” Patton asked.

“Of course.” Janus smiled a little. He hoped it was reassuring. “You’ve been poisoned by a kaeru mushi.”

“Poisoned?” Patton yelped, and a little nervous croak escaped his throat.

Janus patted his cheek. “If only you knew a deeply intelligent, highly skilled mush-shi who could take care of that for you.”

“If only,” Patton repeated, widening his eyes at Janus. The effect was somewhat dampened by his frog eye, but only somewhat. It was still enough to send a wave of fondness through Janus’ chest.

"Come on," Janus said, taking Patton by the hand. He led Patton to the kitchen and set his backpack on the ground with a light thump. The tight weave was strong, but it was beginning to get creaky with age, and Janus made a mental note to see about getting a replacement. "You can take it as a tea, although the flavor is more savory, like a soup." He opened up his backpack and began to dig through it. The paper-wrapped vials rustled and clicked beneath his fingers, and a few specimens brought back memories of his recent trip. "Here we go." He held up the vial and showed it to Patton. "It does take a while to brew. I hope you don't mind being stuck like that for a bit."

Patton extended a hand to help Janus up and pulled him into an embrace, mindful of the glass in Janus' hand. "I already feel better now that you're here."

"You know me," Janus said, nuzzling Patton's forehead. "I live to serve."

It was meant to be sarcasm, though Patton refused to take it as such. "You're so selfless," he said into Janus' chest.

"Patton, love, you are the first and only person to ever accuse me of that." It was true. Janus' bedside manner was objectively abhorrent, his patience for stupidity and stubbornness nonexistent. Most villages regarded him as a necessary evil, rather than a presence to be celebrated. He pulled away before Patton could get it into his head that Janus needed comforting. "Let's get going on the antidote, shall we?"

Patton nodded. "There's a patch of snow out back," he said. "I've been fishing, trying to make the most of it."

"Fish soup?" Janus asked, putting the pieces together.

Patton nodded. "You'll have some, won't you?" He made a point of looking Janus up and down, and even the golden frog eye did not diminish his look of somewhat paternal concern. "You work too hard."

"Again, Patton," Janus said, turning to examine the cooking pot, "you are the only person who's ever said that about me."

"I think I would know," Patton said definitively, taking Janus by the hand to lead him outside.

They held each other while they waited for the cure to steep properly, Janus wrapping his arms around Patton and holding him close. He rested his chin on Patton's shoulder and watched the mushi dance around them. He found it hard to regard them as anything other than vermin, little nuisances who made his life worse. The world was cruel and arbitrary and mushi were no more than a reflection of that, but he couldn't help but resent the situation at hand. Patton didn't deserve this.

As though reading his thoughts, Patton nuzzled Janus' cheek. "Are they here now?"

"The mushi?"

"Mm-hm."

"Yes." Janus pointed even though he knew Patton couldn't see them.

"Describe them to me?" A principle difference between the two of them: Patton treasured every living thing. He never resented the bears that sometimes stole his fish, he never resented the deer when they ate the flowers he'd worked so hard to cultivate. He cherished them. He cherished mushi, too. Even now, when the poison coursing through his body was turning him into one (though Janus had decided not to tell Patton that, thinking that there was no sense worrying him when the cure was at hand).

"They're moving around a lot," Janus said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Though he harbored no love for mushi, he loved Patton dearly. "There's one that looks like a little octopus." Patton was not very well traveled, though he had gone to the ocean once. "And a few that look like worms. They're all glowing."

"They sound so pretty," Patton said, covering Janus' hands with his own.

"I'll bring you back some candles next time I go out," Janus promised, the idea occurring to him in one lightning strike. "And some lanterns made of colored paper. You can string them up outside."

"Oh!" Patton spun around to pull Janus into a proper hug, and Janus was careful not to stare at the frog skin now slowly-advancing down his neck. "That would be lovely."

"Lanterns are better than mushi, anyway," Janus said, his resolve finally cracking a little, "because they're actually useful."

Patton only smiled and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of Janus' face.

It was around evening when Janus deemed the cure properly steeped. Patton made him sit down so they could eat together, smiling all the while, and Janus found any protest he might have melting away in the face of Patton's innocent kindness. It wasn't like the cure could hurt him, after all.

It took effect when they were washing the dishes with water Patton had carried in from a nearby stream. He stopped what he was doing and touched his face, already turning to Janus for confirmation.

Janus nodded, privately satisfied to see both of Patton's eyes back to their rich, deep brown. "Back to normal."

"Thank you, love." Abandoning the dishes, Patton pulled Janus in for a hug. His hands were wet, but Janus couldn't couldn't bring himself to mind the icy droplets that crawled down his neck.

Janus, who was incurably given to teasing, finally let himself off the leash. "Oh, don't thank me; it was for my own benefit. People would laugh if they found out I was in love with a frog-man."

"Oh, you don't mean that," Patton said. He had known Janus far too long, long enough that Janus no longer had to beat back the urge to flee like a startled animal in the face of such intimate knowing.

"You're right," he said, and he meant it.

#i had to do so much research on the Edo Period idk why i did this to myself #moceit #sanders sides #spicywrites #spicyanswer #anyway! i know i kind of threw you a curveball so i apologize if this isn't what you had in mind skdksjd #also the boys are married QPPs in this one #just to change it up a little

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cheesy09 · 3 years

Text

Dangerous Attraction

I won’t explain myself. Just a shamelessly self-indulgent one-shot. I had an idea and it needed to be written down. This is by far the spiciest thing I’ve ever written, and I’m really proud with how it turned out :> Hope you guys like it too. Takes place in the Eternal Winter World Timeline, after Clinic Date.

Pairing: Kiro/Helios x Reader Warnings: Suggestive Word Count: 2,087 Genres: Steamy Fluff. With a dash of angst (because Helios T^T)

The black SUV was in plain sight.

I held my breath as I scanned the familiar stygian vehicle, it’s shiny dark metal illuminated by the overhead street lights. If this was here, then he must be too, I thought to myself. I didn’t dare hope though. After all, the car could have belonged to someone else. Anyone else, besides him. But something -- that god-forsaken part of me that pined for his existence -- told me that it was his.

That was why, the moment I saw a flash of silver dart into the alley nearby, I didn’t think twice before chasing after it, my heart pounding fiercely within my chest.

See you again someday. That’s what he’d said back then at the Clinic. I didn’t think those words would come true, could come true. But just the idea of those words being genuine made the blood in my veins boil with excitement.

It had been days since I had last seen him. Days since I’d last heard his voice, or heard from him at all. The wait; the growing anticipation and anxiousness -- the ambiguity of his situation -- was killing me. An irritating gnawing at my heart.

It drove me crazy.

Once I was a good distance inside, I stopped to look around.

The alley was empty. Cold and mocking. As if I had been chasing after nothing but an illusion. A figment of my imagination. Maybe I was. My desire to see him must have been so overwhelmingly strong, I was starting to hallucinate. After all, what were the odds that I’d run into him again?

One in a hundred? One in a thousand? I didn’t know.

I tried not to let the disappointment eat me alive.

Just as I was about to turn and walk back the way I came from, a strong hand latched onto my mouth and pulled me into the darkness.

“Shh. Keep it down.” A familiar voice. Familiar scent.

Helios.

My heart raced as my back pressed against his firm chest, like two magnets stuck together. Helios’ gloved hand firmly covered my mouth, his slender fingers muffling my voice when I had almost tried to scream. The dark alley was mostly silent, except for the sound of the two of us breathing, harsh and ragged.

Helios pressed his lips against my ear, his disorderly breaths sending shivers down my spine. “What the hell are you doing here this late at night?” His voice was low and raspy, but for some reason wasn’t as cold as it usually was.

Controlling the irregularity of my heartbeat, I pried his hand away from my mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you perhaps worried about me?” I asked sarcastically, trying my best to keep the joy I felt from showing up in my voice and failing miserably. I could feel a smile tug at my lips. I turned my head slightly to meet his gaze. Porcelain skin, angular jaw, sharp blue eyes... he was still as gorgeous as the last time I had seen him.

“Hmph. You wish.” He curled his lip, his eyes scanning the area to make sure no one was around, his silver hair shining in the glow of the moonlight. After a few seconds, he released me and I finally turned to come face-to-face with him, already missing the weight of his arms around me. “I don’t have time to waste on you.”

“Why? So you can hang out with your little Black Swan buddies?” I asked, a tiny smirk painting my lips. I knew I was treading on thin ice here. I always was, with Helios. But at this point I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I missed him. So very much.

Helios’ eyes flashed dangerously, as he regarded me with a scowl. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall behind him. “Watch what you say, missy. You’re playing with fire here.”

“Fire? You mean you?” I asked tentatively, slowly, carefully advancing towards him. Every cell in my body screaming, begging to be close to him, as if even this little distance was tearing me up inside. “If that’s the case, then so be it. You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to see you again.”

Shock flashed through his gaze, as if he wasn’t expecting me to say that. But it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, a momentary flash, an instant of emotion. He looked away, but I caught the tinge of red that seemed to form at the tips of his ears. “Fire burns, you know,” he said slowly, guarded, unhurried.

“Then let me burn,” I murmured.

Helios sighed. My heartbeat sped up.

“Look,” he began, stalking towards me, like a tiger, or an assassin, dangerous enough to make me back up against the wall, and yet captivating enough for me not to want to look away, until he was planting his forearms on either sides of my head. Our chests were brushing, the contact electrifying yet agonizingly sparse. His scorching breath hit my nose, fresh and sweet, and I had to grip the hem of my skirt to control my urge to pull him closer. Wanting his hands on me, his tantalizing lips against my own, my consciousness fighting a battle between patience and desire. “You seem to think that all of this is some sort of joke. It’s like you’re drawn to danger. You can’t just not stay away from it. Just like you can’t stay away from me.”

“If you know that then why do you keep avoiding me?” I asked bitterly. As much as I hated to admit it, it was true. Being with Helios was dangerous. He radiated danger. I had come to terms with that. But at the same time, I couldn’t just leave him. Not now. Not after all this time.

“I have to!” He winced, and made a face like he was pained. As if the conversation itself was physically hurting him in some way. “You have no idea--” he gritted his teeth and stepped a little closer, our foreheads touching, breaths mixing, but not as much as I wanted “--what being close to you does to me.”

I looked up to meet his gaze, the light within those dazzling azure orbs trembling with so many emotions -- persistence, fear, desire -- it made my breath hitch. He’s never been so open. So unguarded. So... vulnerable. It almost made me want to cry.

Helios leaned down, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore, and brushed our noses together. I stopped breathing, not daring to move, lest I shattered this moment; this precious reality I’d dreamed of for so long. He hovered close, waiting, hesitating. “Please...” he whispered, his nose skimming over my cheek, breath lighting flames over my skin.

There was a pause. I bit my lip involuntarily, my patience wearing thin. It was taking me everything I had not to lunge at him then and there.

“Tell me to leave.” His words were measured, restrained, like he was holding something back.

Probably himself.

Fire spread throughout my chest. The thought of Helios wanting me made the blood pump loud in my ears. My fingers moved, aching with a need to touch, to feel. I traced the skin through the rips in his tank top, circled my arms around his slim waist and dragged his body against mine, unable to bear the separation any longer.

“Never.”

Helios groaned. A sound that did nothing except spur me on even more. Static electricity filled the air and I shuddered when I felt one of his legs slip between my thighs, his chest pressing further against me. He gently nibbled on my earlobe, running his fingers along the side of my face and I all but melted into his touch.

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” Helios chuckled darkly into my ear, his tone sounding almost nervous. “I-I... don’t want to hurt you. Not you. I couldn’t live with myself if that happened.”

I looked into those smoky blue eyes, the sheer amount of passion, the almost violent storm of love he was holding back. I knew it, felt it, shared it, a long time ago, when he was mine and mine alone, before the darkness took him away from me.

And now, I finally found him, and I didn’t plan on letting him go again.

“The only thing that can hurt me,” I sighed, my eyes lidding at the way Helios’ tantalizing fingers were lazily rubbing circles onto my waist. “...Is being apart from you. I want you too much to bear that.”

Before I knew it, the words were out of my mouth and Helios’ movements suddenly froze.

All at once, he was in front of me, his face pressing up against mine, our lips only a centimeter apart. “You want me?” He asked, breathless, wanting. His eyes were shimmering with hope and a hint of disbelief.

I nodded uncontrollably. “I do. So much, it hurts.”

Helios closed the gap then, his sweet, soft lips on mine and nothing else mattered. All the surrounding sounds and scenery fell away as my senses zeroed in on his existence. Fireworks exploded in my head and electricity coursed through my blood. All the yearning and regret that had built up over the course of the previous torturous months unleashed a force inside me. I kissed back, almost violently, my teeth grazing his lips, fingernails digging into his back, my body arching into him, desperate for more...

Helios didn’t stop, mouth relentless against my own, hands gently yet firmly gripping my hips. He picked me up and I complied, instinctively wrapping my legs around his torso. He pressed us further into the wall, enclosing us in this tight dark corner, our lips never once parting; much too lost in each other to bother to breathe. I licked the seam of his lips, begging for entrance and Helios moaned into my mouth, his tongue eagerly meeting mine in a heated dance.

How long had I waited for this? This moment where he once again held me like I was the most fragile treasure in the world, and yet kissed me like the world was ending tomorrow. No matter how many different identities he had, his heart -- so beautiful and pure -- was something that would never ever change. And I...

I will never let you go.

...Kiro.

Maybe Helios sensed the thoughts that ran through my heart, and parted from my lips, giving us a few seconds to breathe. But before long, he was back again, pinning my hands against the wall, our fingers strongly entwining together. His mouth was back on mine, slower this time, deeper, more passionate.

Like he was trying to engrave his existence into me.

My mind flash backed to the past. Feverish nights of being tangled in each other’s limbs, my hands in soft golden locks, dark ocean eyes threatening to swallow me whole as the movement of his digits elicited sweet moans out of me... and suddenly, I couldn’t have enough of him.

Heat pooled at my core and I moaned, wrapping my legs tighter around him, desperate for some friction. Helios probably realized what I wanted and ripped his mouth away from mine, panting, his gaze stormy and intense... hungry. And I had no doubt that I looked the same.

“Is there... something you want?” His voice was low, dark, guttural, with some unspoken feelings, making my stomach flip. His fingers were teasing, sensual, trailing lightly over the bare skin of my thighs, slipping under the hem of my skirt... I bit my lip again, impatient.

Why is he always like this?

“Remember what you told me back at the clinic?” I breathed, running my fingers through his silky silver strands. His lips tugged up slightly at the memory. “You said that I could have my way with you. Does that offer still stand?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he declared, mischievously, a playful light dancing in his eyes. Before I could protest, he picked me up again, without breaking our contact, and took me to the parked SUV close by. He opened the back door, tossed me inside and then quickly climbed in after me, locking the door behind him.

The next thing I knew, he was on me again, his gloves discarded, hands impatiently tugging up my shirt, blazing tongue effectively latching onto mine, and he growled.

“Right now, it’s my turn to have my way with you.”

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you for reading! If you’re interested in more of my works, you can check them out in my masterlist.

#mr love queen's choice #mr love #mr love helios #mr love kiro #mr love fanfiction #mlqc #mlqc helios #mlqc kiro #mlqc fanfiction #helios fanfiction #kiro fanfiction

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dralf0yy · 4 years

Text

Wedding Bells || 2 || F.W x Reader

A/N: I AM SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO GET THIS UP BUT ITS FINALLY HERE AAAA!! If i’m being honest, I’m not a big fan of the way I ended this bc it felt rlly unfinished but I felt the need to get it up as soon as I could. I hope you guys enjoy and sorry for the long ass wait 🥺

Word count: 1.6K (aaa she’s a bit sh0rt)

Part 1

Fred landed at the beach just outside his aunt’s old cottage.

The place he proposed to you

The weather was unironically cloudy and cold—identical to the way he felt.

Chills ran up Fred’s spine as he wandered around the beach, taking in the beautiful, calming scene around him. It reminded him of you. More specifically the way you were always remarkably gorgeous without effort, even in your darkest moments, and the way you soothed him with your embrace and kind, loving words.

It made Fred hate himself for abandoning you. You were fragile and even the smallest inconveniences would chip away parts of you that made you happy and whole. Everyone,especially Fred, knew this. He knew that you had cracked when the war broke out and he almost died. And he knew that this time, you had completely shattered, and it was all his fault.

He made his way up the sandy hills, marching through some of the long grass that had sprouted up and halted when he had reached the top. His eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled the salty scent of the ocean, thinking of the day he proposed

One year ago

“Fred where are you taking me?” You giggled as you trailed behind Fred with your hand intertwined with his.

The two of you, and George, had been helping Bill and Fleur fix up their aunt’s old cottage. It had been a long, hard day of redecorating and repainting and the sun was almost completely set

“You’ll see soon enough my love. We’re almost there.. Okay now close your eyes and wait here for a few seconds”

You nodded in response and heard Fred’s soft footsteps shuffling around in the sand. You shifted your weight back and forth between your left and right foot and giggled when you heard your boyfriend curse at the sand under his breath

After a few more seconds of shuffling, you heard Fred whisper

“You can open your eyes now, love”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly and you expected to see his face inches from yours but much to your surprise, he was on one knee clutching a small, black velvet box that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand with a heart shape dug into the sand surrounding the two of you. Fred steadied himself and gazed up into your eyes

“Y/n, these past 6 years with you have been unbelievably amazing. You have shown me what love and true happiness feels like and I will be forever grateful for that. There is no one else I would rather have by my side for the rest of my life, besides George of course,” He joked as a tear cascaded down your cheek

“no one else that I would rather give my love to, wake up next to every morning, have lots of little Weasleys with, and no one else that I would rather marry than you. And the war last year made me realise that I didn’t wanna wait any longer for this. So, Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n.. Will you marry me?”

Tears of joy were now uncontrollably streaming down both your cheeks as you chuckled and silently—but enthusiastically— nodded your head

“Yes! A million times yes!” You exclaimed and pulled Fred up, bringing your hands around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss that was so full of love and passion that it made his head spin

Present

Fred let out a loud, broken sob and collapsed onto his knees remembering the memory that had once made him so ecstatic. He stayed there with his face buried in his hands for what seemed like hours while mumbling ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly to the empty space in front of him

Fred lifted his head back up and the sun was barely visible on the horizon.The sky had slightly cleared in the few hours that he had been there and it became a flurry of yellow, orange, purple and pink streaks.

It was a beautiful image. It was one that you wished you could share with your dearest loved ones when things were bad. It gave Fred the a sense of calmness that he needed to clear his head

“I’m gonna make this right” He stated and disapparated back to the Burrow

***

“Here Y/n/n, have some cake, love” George offered to you. A grateful grin appeared on your face as you took the small, fragile plate with a slice of cake on it from him carefully and snuggled into his side. You sighed tiredly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders

“Something on your mind?”

“Well.. I’m just worried Georgie. What if he’s done something reckless and got hurt or can’t get back to us—?”

“Don’t worry, love I’m right here” Both your heads turned towards the front door, and there, stood the one and only, Fred Weasley

You immediately sprung off the couch and out of George’s embrace, dropping the plate of cake in the process, and ran towards Fred. You jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his waist, and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“Oh my Godric! You’re okay” You squeaked and hugged him tighter. He let out a quiet chuckle and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before setting you back down on the ground. He looked at you with a faint smile on his face, looking as if he was trying not to break again

He didn’t manage to keep the facade up for very long. He pulled you into his chest and burst into tears. Through his fit of sobs, you could hear him choke out an apology

“Shh it’s okay, Fred. We don’t have to talk about this right now..” You cooed soothingly—but slightly muffled— into his chest. You pulled away to look up at his face

“How about you head up for tonight? We can talk in the morning” Fred nodded and started to trail off towards the stairs with your hand wrapped inside his but stopped when he realised you weren’t moving

“A- Are you not coming up with me?” he hiccuped. You opened your mouth to answer but George beat you to it

“Actually Y/n, I think you better head off to bed. I need to talk to Fred”

Too tired to protest, you muttered an ‘okay’ and tread up the creaky stairs of the Burrow leaving the twins alone to talk.

Fred awkwardly stood in the room and rocked back and forth on his feet looking anywhere but at George who was patiently waiting for you to be out of earshot

“I’ll get straight to the point,” He snapped, “I hope you’ve acknowledged that you messed up, Fred. Y/n spent the last 5 hours crying and worrying about you, wondering what she could’ve done wrong for you to walk out on her like that—”

“She didn’t—”

“I KNOW SHE DIDN’T,” George sighed in frustration, “I’ve tried to mend her as much as I could, but the rest is up to you. She’s like a sister to me and I don’t wanna lose her because of something stupid that you did to hurt her. Now go up there and make it up to her and don’t ever take an amazing person like her for granted— because we both know that Y/n won’t give you a 3rd chance”

Fred nodded and trailed up the stairs towards his childhood bedroom, not knowing how to respond as it was a little unusual to see George so serious and worked up about something.

Fred quietly pushed the door open, expecting you to be asleep and not wanting to wake you. He stepped in and felt his heart ache at the sight of you curled up in George’s bed with tears streaming down your face, with muffled hiccups coming from you and clutching onto one of Fred’s christmas sweaters, staring at the floor

You peered up towards the doorway where Fred was standing. Your teary gaze shifted back to the floor next to a small mound of clothing. Your hushed hiccups ceased and the room was filled with deafening silence

Fred’s shoes came into your line of sight and his hand made contact with your shoulder.

“D’you wanna move over to my bed, love?” He whispered gently. You lazily nodded your head and sat up. You made your way over to Fred’s bed and hesitantly lied down on the edge of the mattress. A deep sigh left Fred’s lips as mattress dipped next to you

You unhurriedly shifted around and stared into Fred’s cinnamon coloured eyes with your own Y/e/c orbs. You noticed that they were bloodshot and slightly puffy, but nevertheless, they were still as enchanting as always.

You cast your gaze down towards the pillow, taking a deep and shaky breath. “Be honest,” You said in a voice that was barely a whisper, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” Fred exclaimed suddenly, making you jump, “Sorry I- No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I just—I was being a git and I was just doubting everything, you know? I was.. I was anxious that you didn’t really wanna marry me or that I wasn’t actually ready” he said in a quieter voice.

You nodded and sighed, succumbing to the warmth of Fred’s chest and absorbed what he just confessed.

You decided to leave a lot of things unsaid. Knowing that he was willing to come back and make things right again was enough for you to give him another chance—though you knew you would no matter what he had done anyway.

The familiar sound of Fred’s heartbeat reminded you that he was there, and there for good, along with the feeling of his arms tightening around your frame and your entangling legs. Things were at a fair balance once again, and the two of you couldn’t be more content with your journey of love

***

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mintymiknow · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall - ch. 2 | Lee Minho

summary | character profiles | masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Reader

Summary: Now that you’ve been brought back to help SKZ, a new (and maybe dislikeable) chapter in your life begins. With new faces and new tasks, you have yet to let your guard down, especially when a certain someone gets on your nerves for reasons you can’t seem to understand.

Genre: Secret agent/spy au, romance, angst, action

Word count: Approx. 5.5k

Warnings for this chapter: Drugs (but not that kind of drugs; more on medical or scientific drugs like in chemistry labs)

A/N: The plot isn’t the best out there, but I’m enjoying how everything is going so far. I understand the way I wrote this chapter might be confusing or weird, so send an ask if you need any clarifications or have questions! (Or just have thoughts to share hehe). Enjoy!

By the time Minho parks the car in a familiar looking compound, you realize that the sun’s about to rise, not quite bright yet, but cracks of light have started to pierce the sky. You can hear Minho opening the door on his side and getting out of the car, and you honestly have half the mind to just stay inside. That is...until you realize that the agent is probably going to drag you out and carry you over his shoulder or something of that sort.

With a heavy sigh, you open the door and step out of the car, Minho already standing in front of you with a bored expression yet again. A chilly gust of wind breezes past, ruffling his dark hair across his forehead. You look at him with an equal amount of boredom before grumbling, “Lead the way, agent.”

Minho raises an eyebrow to retort, but as soon as his mouth opens, another voice is heard; brighter and much warmer than Minho’s, that was for sure. “Agent Lee, Dr. Song.” the voice calls out.

Minho says a little “oh” in acknowledgement, while you nod your head without saying a word. The male has dimples, smiling for a second before his expression turns serious, “Glad you could make it, Dr. Song. Shall we go inside?”

You shrug, offering a forced smile, “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

The other agent chuckles, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, Dr. Song. Let’s go?”

You shoot Minho a glare, who only raises an eyebrow unbothered, before following the other agent to who knows where. Probably the meeting room, you muse, if everything is still the same as when you were still working in SKZ’s HQ.

In fact, some things haven’t changed; agents here and there, bustling on their tasks and missions while others are relaxing or are on their break, mingling with their friends. You see the main building office, and somewhere along the compound is the more secluded lab building. Behind it is the living quarters, but you personally never stayed there as you went home everyday.

The inside of the main building still looks the same, polished and pristine just like the squeaky clean image SKZ has - white walls and glass that looks like crystal, cleanly dressed agents and workers, the perfect temperature to match whatever weather it was outside.

How you wish everything was perfect like that.

After a little more steps and an elevator ride to a few floors up, the agent accompanying you stops in front of a large black door; you’ve never been inside the meeting rooms of HQ, so this was going to be slightly new. The agent smiles, hand on the door knob, “They’re ready for you, Dr. Song.”

Who was the “they”? Why wouldn’t they consider that perhaps you weren’t ready?

You nod once more, prompting the agent to open the door. Inside the room was Jung Hyunseo himself, SKZ’s head authority. There were probably two more authorities or heads in the room. You’re able to make out the three agents who came to you a few days ago; the three of them just nod their heads in greeting, which you return. Behind you, Minho brushes past to take a seat next to the agent with long hair; the two immediately whisper amongst themselves, the sharp-eyed agent next to them giggling.

The dimpled agent pulls a chair out for you, offering for you to take a seat. You nod and whisper a very small and quiet “thank you” before sitting; he then moves to take a seat next to you, leaning over to ask the buff agent what he ate for breakfast. A rather casual question considering the atmosphere, you thought to yourself.

Hyunseo leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped together. With a commanding yet warm voice, he speaks, “Alright, now that we’re all here, I’ll begin.”

The other agents fall quiet, all eyes on Hyunseo. The head clears his throat, intense eyes now on you. “Dr. Song,” he starts, “it’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, but with all due respect, Mr. Jung,” you choose your words wisely, especially with all eyes on you, “I’m not sure why you’ve brought me back when we were quite clear with our agreement two years ago.”

“We need your help...or assistance, if you would.” he explains calmly.

You shake your head, “Or so I was told. But you promised, Mr. Jung, to never let me get involved again. We agreed that I’d have nothing to do with SKZ anymore.”

No one notices, but Minho and the dimpled agent look at each other for a fleeting moment; they then return their gazes to Hyunseo, expressions unreadable. Hyunseo sighs as if just as upset as you are, lowering his head in the slightest, “I know, y/n. And trust me, I would want nothing but for you to live your life outside and unrelated to SKZ...especially after, you know, all that.”

“Yes.” you say curtly, ripping your eyes away from him to look at the table’s surface instead.

Hyunseo straightens his posture, voice more firm now. “Unfortunately, certain circumstances have forced me to seek your participation.”

“Are your scientists and doctors doing things behind your back again?” you say without much thought, raising a judging eyebrow, “Taking advantage of the trust you have in them?”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the sharp-eyed agent make a small “o” with his mouth while the long-haired one nods as if he understood everything. You can only scoff. Hyunseo isn’t fazed, a sad and almost bitter smile playing on his lips. “Not quite.” he answers, rubbing his temples, “But close. Recently, various agents have gathered intel - and even witnessed - the emergence of a new drug that poses harmful threats to humans.”

“Surely, SKZ is enough to deal with this.” you cross your arms, “If it’s just some drug, you don’t need me.”

“But this drug, y/n, is nothing our medical or scientific team has seen before. Surely, you would know how dangerous undiscovered formulas are.”

At that, your eyes lift from the table, glaring at Hyunseo. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms, “I told you I didn’t want anything to do with that incident, Hyunseo, so don’t remind me. It’s not my problem anymore.”

“I know, y/n. But this is about saving lives.” Hyunseo explains calmly, “From the intel we’ve gathered, an unknown group or organization - whose other members are former SKZ scientists - is making use of that new formula to mass produce a serum for who knows what. Weapons, chemical or biological warfare, experimentation, torture - anything and everything hellish, y/n.”

“I’m a doctor.” you hiss, on the verge of groaning from irritation, “Not a field agent or any sort of agent as a matter of fact.”

“But you are also a scientist.” Hyunseo’s eyes turn dark and sharp like an eagle's, “And a very skilled one at that. We could use someone like you on this.”

Your entire body tenses, jaw clenched so tight you feel like you’d never be able to speak again. You can sense the uneasy tension filling the meeting room, whispers and murmurs here and there. “Why me?” you manage to say, hoping your voice doesn’t sound too shaky or cracked.

Hyunseo nods at one of the agents, “Agent Bang, if you will.”

The dimpled male beside you nods and gets up, going to the front of the room. He taps the screen board in front before facing the entire group. “Latest intel tells us that the serum or formula that they are using isn’t super...effective, as per the lab department. It kills, but it’s far from being a superweapon kind of thing. According to their sample analysis and tests, the group hasn’t ‘perfected’ the serum’s formula. Once they’ve perfected it, however, we’ve been told that they have several trades and sales in line for these serums in the black market.”

Chan’s words sink in, and you know that if they haven’t perfected it, that would entail more experimentations - on humans. You feel sick, head spinning and eyes shaking as you look away from the screen. You don’t notice how Minho leans back on his chair, clenching his jaw and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Chan swipes the screen to show another display on information and continues to speak, “From what we are assessing and assuming, they are looking to seize you, Dr. Song.”

“They should know better than anyone that I can’t help them either way.” you shrug in dismissal, “I wasn’t of any help back then, I won’t be now.”

“We aren’t sure why, but we’re deducing it’s because you are very knowledgeable and are an expert in this field. They think a doctor-slash-scientist of your level would still be useful. We’d be hitting two birds with one stone with you helping us, y/n.” Hyunseo states, “One, you’d be safer with us here. What if they do find and take you? Second, you can help us find a way to counter the serum.”

“Why can’t you just order your agents to find them and destroy all the serums? Doesn’t matter if it’s perfected or not. It’s dangerous, so get rid of it.” you snap, patience wearing thin.

“We must tread carefully as our attempts on them can prompt even more damage like hostage situations or simply releasing the serums for the sake of it. And we can’t simply destroy the serums.” Hyunseo says flatly, gesturing at another agent, “Agent Seo.”

The buff agent nods, clearing his throat, “One agent was able to retrieve a serum once, and we tried to dispose small amounts of it in various ways. Throw it away in a remote area, burn or wash it away, use other chemicals to counter and dilute it, but nothing worked.”

“Nothing worked?” you inquire with a tilt of your head.

“All the methods I mentioned would still leave residue or gases behind.” Changbin explains, “And well...that residue is just as potent and dangerous as the serum itself. So if we throw it away somewhere far and remote, wind could carry the gases and will somehow make its way to populated areas. Dumping it in the sea will contaminate water and marine life. Straight-up making the enemy’s hideouts blow up will just spread the fumes contaminated with serum gases. Pretty messy. It’s like an indestructible formula.”

Hyunseo nods firmly, turning his attention back to you. “Which is why we brought you here, y/n. I personally know how skilled and capable you are, and I believe you’d be instrumental in helping our Medical and Science Department in looking for a way to get rid of the serum and prevent heavy damage to the nation...or even other nations, if this gets into the hands of the military.” Hyunseo says with a sense of urgency in his voice.

Chan also adds, “A few of our scientists think that there is a way to counter its initial effects via another formula. Consequently, that would enable us to properly dispose of it. They just...haven’t discovered what exactly. So the plan is to have you study the formula and whatever properties it has. Once you’re successful with identifying a way to concoct a counter-serum to negate its effects, the second step can happen.”

Changbin continues, “We either infiltrate their bases or interfere with their transactions. Whatever happens, we’re going to retrieve as much serums as possible so that we can mix in the counter-formula, rendering it useless. Now, it can be disposed of.”

You open your mouth to ask a question, but Chan answers with a smile, “And yes, even if we pull the whole ‘switch the serums with other formulas’ or steal them now for disposal later, we’d still be stuck with serums you can’t dispose of. In the end, you’d still need to work with us to find a way to negate its residual effects.”

“You know I can’t, Hyunseo. Not anymore.” you close your eyes, cradling your head in your hands, “I’m not going back to working on things like these.”

The room falls silent, the screeching of one chair dragging across the floor the only sound heard. Everything is at a stand-still, breaths held until you feel large hands enveloping your own. You look up to see Hyunseo offering you an assuring smile, fatherly and gentle. He pats your hands, speaking with a hushed voice, “I know it’s difficult for you, y/n, but we could really use your help. You’re the only one we can trust on this.”

“You know I don’t trust SKZ anymore, right?” you croak out.

Hyunseo smiles despite this, nodding his head, “I know, but I need you to take a leap of faith on this, y/n. We can’t prevent or dispose of it without figuring out a way to negate its effects or counter the residues as soon as possible. Only you can help with that.”

You chew on your lip, taking note of how the agents have their expectant eyes on you. Hyunseo continues to look at you with encouraging eyes as he speaks, “Back then, whatever happened in the labs took lives. Now? We - you - have a chance to help save lives. Imagine if you develop a formula to counter the serum. We could retrieve all the serums and get rid of it without any of its residual effects. You’d be preventing death and damage as the serum is rendered useless - just like a glass of water.”

You can only sigh, nodding your head without a single word coming out of your lips. Your eyes are glassy, but Hyunseo can see a faint fire in them. With an assuring smile, he says, “Thank you, y/n. I promise, after this is solved, you can walk away forever. And this time, I promise, you’ll never have to get involved again.”

You heard that before, and if you were in a better mood, you would have scoffed, laughed or rolled your eyes. But right now, you could only nod. Again. “You can trust us.” Hyunseo whispers, “You’ll be ok.”

Lies, the voices in your head hissed and whispered, but technically, everything was a lie to you in the first place. What could you do?

“Now, just to give you some sense of familiarity since you’ve never encountered the agents before.” Hyunseo clasps his hands together, “You’ve met Agent Lee, the one who brought you in.”

Minho nods, expression blank but you can make out a faint smile on his lips.

“Agent Bang who briefed you.”

Chan - the one with dimples - politely bows. He was the warm and friendly one.

“Agent Seo, Agent Hwang, and Agent Yang who came to you the first time.”

Changbin, Hyunjin and Jeongin all waved their hands once before giving a curt nod of their heads.

“Some of them might not mind being called by their first names, so you can just discuss that amongst yourselves. You’ll probably meet the other agents related to this case later on, but for now, Agent Lee is responsible for your needs.”

You internally groan; of all people, it was this stone-faced, borderline arrogant and cold agent. Minho seems to have no qualms, nodding his head in agreement with Hyunseo. SKZ’s head also adds in, “Agent Lee is like your ‘partner’ for this entire mission case. If you have questions or need anything, you go to him. If a mission requires you to come along, you stick with him. He’s also going to keep you safe, so don’t worry. He’s very good.”

You can see Chan nodding in agreement, smiling a little as Minho playfully slaps his arm. How ever were you going to survive this whole thing? Not only have you been brought back to this forsaken place to help solve something that you aren’t fond of...but you’re also “stuck” with the male who seems to just not care. The agent that seems to piss you off just by staring at his face.

Well, to be fair, you didn’t like anyone - not a single person - in this room.

SKZ is SKZ, and nothing would change how you saw the organization.

You don’t hear Hyunseo dismissing the meeting, the other agents in the room scrambling to their feet and bowing as they make their exit. Minho and Hyunseo leave as well, leaving you seemingly alone in the pristine meeting room, silence falling upon you. You’re just about to break down in stressful tears when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You look up to see the sharp-eyed agent smiling gently. “I’ve been ordered to take you to your room in the living quarters, Dr. Song.” he says.

You sigh, standing up without much strength, “Right...what about my stuff? It’s not like you readily have things available here.”

Jeongin chuckles, “I think Mr. Jung has arranged with our female agents to gather things for you. Besides, Minho will accompany you back to your house later or tomorrow if you need to get more personal things or such.”

“I see.” you nod, “If he’s Minho...you are?”

“Oh, Agent Yang Jeongin.” he smiles, “Calling me Jeongin is ok as long as it’s not during mission or work hours.”

“Ok.”

“Now, living quarters. Follow me please, Dr. Song.”

Jeongin is constantly waving and smiling at other agents as he walks through the compound, eventually leading you to a tall building somewhere in the more “hidden” part of HQ. He stops at the dark brown double doors, scanning his hand on a glass screen. With a faint beep, the young agent pushes the doors open and ushers you inside a hotel-looking lobby, the floors shinier than even the hospital’s own floors. A fancy-looking chandelier swings above, illuminating the lobby brightly. Unlike a hotel, however, there is no receptionist, and the lobby splits into three separate wings.

Jeongin smiles at you as he makes a few gestures, “So...I’m not sure if you stayed in the living quarters when you worked in SKZ, but assuming you didn’t, let me give you a run down. The left and right wings are where all the agents are staying. The middle wing is where the dining area is. There’s a gym, lounges, and snack bars in various floors which you can access with the elevators. Am I making sense?”

“Oh, yes. I got it.” you nod your head once.

“Cool.” Jeongin grins wider, nodding his head to the right, “I’ll show you your room now.”

You follow the smiley agent in silence, not really saying anything; it was fine though, since Jeongin just kept talking about “how relaxing the lounge rooms were” or “how delicious the food actually is”. He spoke as if he was the happiest person to be here, proud and overjoyed to work in SKZ. The complete opposite of you, honestly. You just wanted everything to be over and done with.

In the elevator, it’s just the two of you, a tense and awkward silence filling in. Jeongin turns his head to glance at you, tilting his head, “Do you know any of the agents? I mean, have you met anyone before?”

You shake your head, not really trying to remember anyone. Not that you’d remember, since you barely spoke to people outside the labs back then. “I never interacted with the field agents. I kept to those in the labs only.” you explain plainly.

How high was this elevator going?

“I see.” Jeongin hums, “Well, I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but you’re in good hands since Minho is the one looking out for you.”

“In all honesty, Jeongin,” you start, “I highly doubt that.”

The elevator dings open, and Jeongin holds the button open for you. Once you’ve both stepped outside, he gestures for you to follow him down the hall. He continues the conversation, “Is it the personality? His seemingly perpetual scowl?”

“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure of what to say.

Jeongin chuckles, eyes crinkling as he smiles down at you, “Don’t let it get to you though, Dr. Song. Minho looks intimidating ‘cause he takes his job seriously, but deep down, he’s a really fun and warm person.”

“Well, maybe Minho’s just an ass to people outside SKZ.” you hum, staring at the black door in front of you.

Jeongin scans his thumb on the small glass screen next to the doorknob, twisting it open as soon as he hears another beep. “I mean, Minho can be a bit...much, but he’s got his reasons.” Jeongin smiles softer this time, a hint of sorrow in his eyes, “We all have reasons, right? He just takes his to heart harder.”

You look at Jeongin quizzically, but the agent only chuckles, the shimmer in his eyes returning. He gently ushers you inside the room before saying, “Anyway, Minho’s a great friend! You’ll be fine, and you can trust him!”

You decide to just nod despite not exactly agreeing with the male’s statement; you’re not in the mood or don’t have the energy to really continue talking. Jeongin explains a few “house rules” before walking over to the door.

“I don’t know when Minho will bring you back home so you can get more of your personal belongings, but you should know that your door currently unlocks only with biometric scans! Since you don’t have any info with us yet, you’ll be brought to the labs for that today. Rest well, Dr. Song. Feel free to sleep first since Minho did pick you up at an ungodly hour.”

With that, Jeongin gently shuts the door, and you hear his footsteps walking away. You now have every opportunity to groan, flopping down on the bed. Though the bead is heavenly soft and soothing, you still feel miserable, internally screaming and pleading for everything to just be over.

You’ve made it your number one goal to find a solution to this serum as soon as possible.

The sooner you do, the sooner you get to walk away again.

You don’t realize how many hours have passed, but you’ve eventually fallen asleep on the bed without removing your shoes. You’re more than content remaining in this state, letting sleep take over your bones. Unfortunately, a certain agent has other plans as he leans against the wall of your room, arms crossed as he looks at your sleeping form.

The look on Minho’s face is slightly annoyed, eyebrows knit together with a visible scowl. But when he sees the way you’re clutching one of the pillows tightly, hugging it like a safety blanket and your usual glare of displeasure replaced with a more relaxed expression, his face softens in the slightest.

At least...until he clears his throat and returns to a more stoic look.

“Dr. Song.”

You remain still, sleep clearly haven taken over your entire body. Minho sighs in exasperation, unfolding his arms as he gently walks over to you. You don’t even feel the bed dip as he sits next to your sleeping form, much too lost in dreamland. The male lifts a hand to your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. “Dr. Song.” he repeats.

You mumble something incoherent, slowly peeling your eyes open. As soon as your gaze lands on the male agent, your heart leaps out of place and you abruptly make a move to slap the figure. Minho easily catches your wrist, his grip gentle despite the hard expression on his face. He gently brings your hand down, looking at you with a piercing gaze.

You narrow your eyes upon registering that it was Minho. “I forgot I was still here…” you mumble.

“Dr. Song,” Minho starts with a levelled voice, “I’m going to take you to the labs.”

You slowly sit up, fixing your unruly bed hair; you’re much too annoyed to notice the subtle smirk on Minho’s face. “I honestly find it unsettling that you or any agent can just enter my room on a whim...without my permission or knowledge.” you say once you’ve fixed your messy hair, tone accusatory.

Minho raises an eyebrow in protest, “I’m not going to do anything, Dr. Song.”

“You can never be too sure.” you say defensively, crossing your arms, “I’m on the losing end here. Am I the only one who thinks it’s...creepy?”

“If I were going to do anything to you, I would have done it when I came to your house.” Minho smirks boldly, “Besides, I’m not that kind of person. I have no interest in you, trust me. I’m just doing my job.”

You look at him with a mysterious look in your eyes. Minho can’t quite decipher what you were intending to convey, but he only tilts his head in response. For a moment, the two of you are just staring at each other, eyes connected like magnets that refuse to be pulled apart. It’s like he’s trying to get his words across through his gaze, but your own gaze is adamant in blocking him out.

When the male sees your eyes waver at last, pupils shaking in the slightest before breaking eye contact, he sighs. His facial features are still dull, but there’s a softer light to his eyes as he speaks up, “Your biometrics haven’t been registered. That’s why I’m taking you to the lab. Once your data has been registered, only you will have the ‘key’ or access to your room.”

You hum gloomily, shrugging your shoulders, “Alright.”

Minho stands up from your bed, gesturing for you to hurry up. You stand up as well, straightening your pants and shirt. “Let’s go.” you tell Minho, about to take a step past him.

The male gently takes hold of your upper arm, pulling you back. You protest with a quick “hey” before you ultimately keep your lips in a tight line, eyes wide and shutting up especially when you realize that Minho’s reaching up to flatten some of the unruly hair you haven’t gotten to fix.

Just as quick as he does it, he is also quick to retract his hand and raise an eyebrow at you, “You can’t march into the labs looking like a lab rat yourself.” he says nonchalantly.

You glare, huffing a deep breath as you point a finger at the male, “I’ll turn you into a lab rat, Agent Lee.”

“How fun.” he muses, turning on his heel to walk towards the door, “Come along, Dr. Song.”

You groan to yourself, rolling your eyes as you move to follow him. Minho lets you go out the door ahead before following behind, closing the door gently.

The walk to the lab department is quiet and more awkward than it had been when you were with Jeongin, but perhaps you felt that it was better that way. Minho was on the phone with Chan most of the time, talking about how he “had to deal with Dr. Song then we can have a late lunch with Changbin later” - it seemed like he was closer to Chan and Changbin anyway.

When you both arrive at the lab department, you notice how it still looks the same as before. Same walls, same floors, same rooms, same everything. Maybe not the same people, but the place itself was just the same. You feel a chill run down your spine like a ghost caressed you, and you involuntarily take a deep breath as you shiver from head to toe.

After going down a few floors to what you remember is the HQ’s medical wing - or the “clinic” of sorts, Minho pushes a glass door open where a freckled male is seated by a table, a dark-haired male seated across him. They both look up when you both enter the room, the dark-haired male lifting his hand in some sort of wave, “Oh...hey y/n.”

“Seungmin?” you look at Minho and then back to Seungmin, “Hi.”

The freckled male makes an “o” with his mouth before beaming, “You already met?”

“Y/n and I were...acquaintances before she left SKZ. We worked together on a lot of stuff until - ”

Seungmin looks at you sadly, and when you shake your head, he drops the subject and sighs, “We just saw each other frequently in the labs; me, her and Jisung.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that, let’s carry on.” Minho starts with disinterest, gesturing towards the freckled male, “Dr. Song, this is Felix. He’s in charge of tech and surveillance, so he and Seungmin will handle gathering and recording your biometric data.”

Felix smiles very much brightly, gesturing for you to sit down as he pulls out his laptop, “This shouldn’t take too long, Dr. Song! Just give us a few minutes then you’re good to go.”

You nod, taking a seat in front of Felix. As soon as you’re seated, the door bursts open with another newcomer. “Y/n! Long time no see!” the person laughs.

You offer a small smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “Hi Jisung.”

“And how come you and Seungmin didn’t tell us that you knew each other?” Felix says while looking back and forth between Seungmin and Jisung.

Seungmin shrugs with a smile, “Um...didn’t think it would really matter. We aren’t the field agents, Minho and the rest are.”

“I don’t think I would have gone with you or Jisung either way.” you point out, sighing, “Agent Lee here is just a bit...much.”

You hear Minho scoff as Jisung stifles a laugh. The latter sits down beside you, offering another bright grin, “Anyway, Minho aside, let’s get started with this. I haven’t had lunch.”

Felix glances towards Minho, offering for the older male to take a seat as well, “Minho, you can sit too.”

Minho smiles gently, waving his hand in dismissal, “I have plans with Chan and Changbin, but thanks, Lix.”

Felix says a happy little “ok” before turning his attention back to his laptop. Minho’s voice then turns from warm back to cold as he addresses you, “You stay in the lab for the time being. Familiarize yourself if you need to, spend time with Jisung and Seungmin, whatever. I’ll come back to check on you later before dinner.”

With that, he exits the room, leaving you no time to respond at all. You gape at the door that was now shut, scoffing in disbelief. Jisung has the heart to whistle and playfully pipe in, “Wow, it’s like you have a boyfriend, y/n. ‘I’ll pick you up after blah blah’, right? Funny. Minho looks like a boyfriend now.”

“Please don’t.” you groan with your head in your hands.

Felix decides to join in on the fun, laughing, “Come to think of it, Minho is very boyfriend material under all that toughness.”

“I don’t need to hear this.” Seungmin pretends to gag, turning his attention to you.

Within the next few minutes, Seungmin explains the procedure and what you have to do. It’s all the basics - scanning things like your fingerprints, eye scanning, whatever bio data they needed. All those agent-like stuff. By the time the group is finished with their tasks, Felix packs his things and waves warmly, “I’ll just get this data up to main so Dr. Song can have her room access to herself by tonight. See you guys!”

He waves to the two males and to you before making his way out the room. Seungmin then turns to you, tilting his head, “How’ve you been, y/n?”

“I feel like shit.” you admit, sighing as you slump on the chair, “I don’t...want to be here in all honesty.”

“Yeah, Changbin did mention that.” Jisung says apologetically, “We still don’t know why.”

“I only know that you left, but you never gave an explanation.” Seungmin adds.

You shrug, expression almost lifeless, “I don’t like talking about it. I’m just here to get things over and done with then I’m out.”

You don’t miss the disappointment that flashes across their faces, but you choose not to pay much heed to it. Instead, you chew on your lip and release another sigh, “I’m just here to work on what I need to.”

“I see.” Seungmin speaks up first, and there’s an understanding yet warm tone to his voice.

Jisung replaces his frown with a smile as he gently stands up, gesturing towards the door, “Seungmin and I haven’t had lunch, and I’m sure Minho didn’t really...give you enough time to eat. Wanna grab something with us?”

You only stare at the two, juggling your thoughts and options in your head. As if Seungmin can read your mind, he laughs, “You can’t work on an empty stomach, y/n.”

“Fine.”

“Alright!” Jisung claps once, “I’ve got some epic recommendations for you!”

Seungmin looks disturbed, “Jisung, I don’t think an extra-spicy wasabi chicken sandwich with cheese is ‘epic’ but you do you.”

“Let y/n be the judge of that.”

“Oh no.”

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ijustwant2write · 4 years

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A Bad Arrangement-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @sihtrics)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi! Could I request a tommy imagine in which the reader and him are in an arranged Marriage. She tries to be a good wife, but he’s very cold towards her and she feels sad about it. One day he comes home in a rather sour mood and the reader tries to cheer him up, but since he’s upset he says something harmful to her which makes her cry. He feels bad and goes to talk to her and tells her the reason he was cold towards her is because he was scared she would end up like grace. A fluffy ending pls❤️’

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Neglect, sadness, arguing, swearing, mention of death, fluff

(A/N: I changed it slightly, it worked better with the direction of the plot)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Charlie's cries could be heard throughout the house, and my instincts kicked in. He wasn't my child, but I had always had a strong nurturing side. I carefully rushing up the stairs, hurrying down the hall to his room when one member of staff stopped me.

"It's alright Mrs Shelby, I'll tend to him." she quietly said.

"No, it's fine, I can look after him. I'm sure you're swept off your feet." I tried to move around her, but she blocked me.

"Please miss."

I sighed."Tommy told you to not let me near him, didn't he?"

Her silence gave me the answer. She hesitated before turning around, making her way into Charlie's room. The door closed before I could even peak inside, and Charlie's cries died down. The frustration in me was building up, I had never felt so humiliated or like an outcast in my entire life. And even in my house, I didn't belong.

As I walked back downstairs, I glanced up at the huge painting of Grace, Tommy's former wife. On the one hand, I understood why he kept it up; he was in love with her, they had a child together, and it was a tragic death. However, it felt as if he was mocking me, telling me that I wasn't as good as her, that I could never live up to her. And he wasn't shy about expressing that either.

This wasn't the marriage I had dreamed of, not the life my mother had told me I would have. After trying and failing to find that love everyone so desperately seeks, I somehow ended up in the clutches of the Shelby's. An arranged marriage (more like a business proposal) had been made between my family and theirs, just so they could tread on some of our territory. We weren't a gang like them, but my father was a powerful man, and he knew how to protect his business. Hence why I was part of the deal; marry the wealthy man's daughter, or lose out on a massive piece of land that would benefit them in the future. The marriage also made a tie between our families, meaning we were supposed to be friendly at all times. Which is why I never told my family about the way I was treated, it would cause an even bigger problem.

I continued down to the kitchen, smelling the freshly baked goods. There were biscuits cooling on a rack, and I hovered my hand above them, checking they weren't too hot. As no one was looking, I pinched one of them, quickly weaving my way out of there, and down to the wine cellar as I ate it. I had noticed that Tommy was in need of another bottle of whiskey in his office (I had been searching for him the day before, not finding him anywhere as usual, and for some reason, it was something that I picked up on), and this was another way to waste time for myself. My finger ran along the many bottles we had, picking up a random one. It seemed fine, I still wasn't aware of what made a good whiskey.

Although I had a feeling that Tommy wasn't in, I knocked on his office door anyway, scared of what would happen if I just entered. When no reply came, I opened it slowly, looking into the room before taking a step inside. My eyes roamed around the place, taking everything in. Tommy never let in me in for a long time, it was the one room I never knew. Slowly making my way towards the trolley stuffed with glasses of alcohol, I swapped the empty whiskey for the new one. That man's alcohol tolerance was amazing.

My head whipped around when I heard echoing footsteps, frozen as I thought about how angry Tommy would be when he caught me. I almost tripped over myself as I moved away from his desk, clutching onto the bottle. The door swun open, and he slammed it behind him before noticing me. With that usual cold expression, he stopped for a second.

"What are you doing in here?" he snapped, storming towards his desk.

"I-I saw that you had no whiskey, so I replaced it." I hated that I stuttered.

He lit a cigarette, not looking at me anymore."Someone else could have done that."

"I don't mind. I mean, it's done now anyway." I gulped."How was your day?"

"Fine."

I waited for him to ask me, even if he wasn't interested. But when he sensed that I hadn't left, he finally glanced at me again.

"Is there anything else?" he mumbled.

"No."

Scurrying away, I held in my tears until the door closed. Hugging the bottle to my chest, I whimpered unexpectedly. When was the last time I had smiled? When was the last time I hadn't cried one day after the other. My hand was shaking as I dumped the bottle onto a nearby table. It wasn't fair. I had been good all my life, why was I being punished?

The evening arrived, meaning another day of not existing was about to pass. Slumping upstairs after another lonely meal, I headed towards our room, when I saw Charlie standing up in his cot. He smiled as he spotted me, wriggling around and giggling. No one was going to stop me from seeing that boy, he had lost one mother, he wasn't going to lose another.

"Hi," I gushed as I approached him, both of us smiling at each other,"you should be asleep."

I picked him up, cradling him close to me, his tiny arms wrapping around me. I rocked him as I rubbed his back, taking the feeling in. He was instantly calmed, snuggling into me, and I cherished it. I wanted a child of my own. I wanted to know that feeling of being pregnant, the connection you had as soon as you gave birth, and for Charlie to have a sibling to play with. Just as I thought he had settled, about to place him back in his cot, he whined, and I straightened up again.

"Mummy." his words were muffled in my shoulder, but I heard it anyway.

He hadn't called me that before. It wasn't a mistake. Charlie knew I wasn't his real mum, and yet he had just called me that. I could hear his breathing become deeper, he had to be asleep by now. Though I didn't want to separate myself from him, I reluctantly laid him down, kissing his head ever so gently. Tiptoeing put of his bedroom, I pulled the door closed silently, luckily not waking him up as it clicked shut.

Most nights I couldn't sleep anyway, I would just lie in the plush bed, head resting on the finest of pillows; still with all this comfort, my mind was still wide awake. The way Charlie had said 'mummy' repeated itself over and over. Of course I had cried over it, but I had also cried at the joy he gave me. My heart hadn't felt such love for a long time. Tommy could be heard coming up the stairs, and I knew it was him because all of the staff were dismissed for the night; and the fact that it was three in the morning.

I rolled onto my side, pulling the covers over me. My eyes stayed open as I saw the light from the hallway illuminate the room, but we were shut in darkness again. Closing my eyes to seem asleep, I heard Tommy fumble around, sighing a couple of times. After a few minutes, the bed dipped beside me, but I knew he wasn’t lying down yet. When we were first married, I had tried to lay near him, wishing he would hold me just once. And it was extremely rate for him to even be in bed, not that it made any difference. Over time, I had inched further away from him, creating a huge space between us. I hadn’t cried myself to sleep in a while, and tonight I seemed to be falling back into that habit, whether it was due to what Charlie said or because Tommy yelled at me. But I couldn’t cry freely tonight, not with Tommy in the room. It wasn’t something I could control, so I subtly buried my head into the pillow, hoping that my shoulders weren’t shaking too much. Even if he did see me in such a state, it wouldn't phase him. He would probably slip away to fund peace elsewhere.

I could feel how puffy my eyes were in the morning, dried tears masked on my cheeks. My hand ran down my face, before flopping down to my sides. I didn't need to check if Tommy was there, he was never there in the morning.

Not bothering to dress for breakfast, I tied my robe around me, head hung low as I walked down the hallway. The only time I looked up from the ground was to see if Charlie was awake, but he had already been taken out of his room. I had to see that boy again today, I had to hear him call me 'mummy' again.

As I sat at the table, waiting to be served breakfast, the head housekeeper, Frances, approached me. She didn't have any food with her, nor anyone following her.

"Mrs Shelby, I have been asked to pass on a message from Mr Shelby." she started, seeming nervous.

My mind instantly jumped to the worst thoughts, panicking that something terrible had happened."What is it?"

"He has...demanded that you stay away from Charlie."

"Stay away?"

"He says you were told before that you weren't to interact, and apparently you have violated that."

"And leave that boy without a mother?"

"I'm sorry miss, it's what he ordered. My staff would be in trouble-"

"I understand." I accidentally snapped, regretting my tone."Is he here? Of course he's not, when is he ever here?"

"No, he isn't."

I could stand to be in that room anymore, not with all the tension I had caused. Frances backed away when I stood, and I left without a second glance. No matter how big this house was, I always felt like I was in a tiny box, like it was being crushed and no one cared if it hurt me. Sprinting out of the front door, I ignored the sharp gravel digging into my feet, heading towards the open field we had for the horses. I looked like someone who had escaped an asylum.

Everything around me was Tommy's, there was nothing of value that I owned here. He was in charge, he had control. I no longer had a life here, that had disappeared as soon as the ring was put on my finger. I tugged at my wedding band, desperate to take it off my finger, as if it was burning me; but it was stuck there, refusing to budge. I screamed out in frustration, slamming the ground with my fists. Tommy Shelby was a cruel man, and for what? I wasn't Grace, I understood that, but why did he have to be so horrible?

With my arms crossed over my chest, remnants of dirt still on my hands, I paced around Tommy's office. I didn't care if I wasn't supposed to be in here, he was going to answer my questions. I still wasn't dressed, and it was well into the late afternoon now. If I had to, I would wait all night in that room. Luckily I wouldn't have to, because his care had pulled up on the driveway, and it was only a matter of a few minutes when we would face each other.

He didn't hold back his deep sigh when he opened the door."Why are you in here again?"

"I want to speak to you." I confidently said.

"It'll have to wait." he headed towards his desk, and I scoffed at him.

"No, it won't wait. I won't wait. What made you think that you could stop me from seeing Charlie?"

"(Y/N), I am not about to argue with you."

I raised my voice, my emotions getting the better of me."He's only a baby! He needs a mother figure. You know, that boy is my only source of happiness in this hell hole, and you've taken that away from me!"

"Stop trying so fucking hard!" He yelled back."He's not your son, he's mine! You didn't give birth to him, my dead wife did! You don't do anything to benefit this family, I could have easily taken over your father's territory, but instead I chose the peaceful way, which I regret every day of my life!"

My bottom lip trembled, tears streaming down my face."You don't mean that."

"Oh but I do." he seethed."You don't understand what I do out there to keep us protected, to make sure I can feed us, to make sure no one dies!"

He quickly walked towards me, and I was too scared to stand my ground. I cried out as I fled for the door, clumsily opening it before escaping. My sobbing was loud through the spacious halls, footsteps heavy on the stairs, slamming the bedroom door as hard as I could once I was inside. My shaking legs managed to carry me to the bed before I collapsed, finding myself crying there once again.

It must have been an hour later when the door clicked open. I tensed up, slowly backing up against the headboard as Tommy stepped in. He stared at me, and I thought I saw a moment of sadness in his eyes, but told myself I imagined it. Cautiously approaching me, I stayed still as he stood at the end of the bed, hands in his pockets with his head bowed.

"I'm sorry."

"W-what?" I was in disbelief, he had never apologised to me.

He raised his head, looking me dead in the eye."I'm sorry for shouting at you, I know I scared you. I never want to do that."

I said nothing, hoping he would add onto that.

"I don't like being horrible to you. You don't deserve it."

"Then why do you do it?"

He seemed surprised that I had spoke."I do it to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"I fell in love with Grace. I let her in, I told her things about the business. And she died. She took a bullet that was meant for me, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I had set up a life that wouldn't involve another woman, it would just be me and Charlie. And then this happened. I couldn't hurt or kill your father, I didn't have any reason to, it was more beneficial to make a deal. And you were a part of that."

"You didn't want anymore blood on your hands." I mumbled.

"Although I was desperate to not marry you, not just because we didn't know each other, but I didn't want to put you in the same danger as Grace. By not getting close to you, not taking an interest, I didn't have the chance to gain any feelings, even a friendship."

"You took Charlie away from me. It tipped me over the edge."

"I know."

"You've hurt me a lot Tommy."

"And I wish I hadn't. It seemed the only way to keep you safe."

"I wasn't asking you to love me. What I really wanted was at least a friendship. If you didn't want Charlie to see me as a mother-"

"I know what he called you the other day."

"The maid who told me about you sneaking in, she mentioned it."

"Are you mad?"

"No. But I'm angry that my son has been able to move on faster than I have."

"He hasn't moved on, he doesn't fully understand what happened. Charlie will remember Grace if we talk about her."

"You would want that?"

"If you want him to remember, who am I to take that away from him?"

He raised an eyebrow at me."I thought you would be screaming at me more."

"I don't want to do that. I don't want to be sad anymore. We have a lot of problems to fix, a lot of things to be talked about. But I'm tired, I can't deal with it now, not tonight."

He rounded the bed, coming to my side. Still apprehensive, I watched him closely. There was nothing to be scared of now, not when he was reaching his arms out to me. Reluctantly sitting up on my knees, I glanced into his eyes one last time, before practically engulfing him in the tightest hug possible. It felt good when he squeezed me back. It wasn't as if we had just suddenly fallen in love, we had made a connection, we were wiping the slate clean. Feelings were still hurt, there were things that needed mending between us, but it was a start.

"Can you forgive me for how I've treated you?" He whispered into my ear.

I sighed, tightening my grip."I will, over time."

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lovely-angst · 4 years

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haori

Lol, its 4 am and im writing angst

Giyuu was known to be quiet, calm and reserved and as his wife, you could speak on it. There were very rare times that Giyuu would raise his voice or get mad.

But here you were, shaken up in front of your angry husband as you listened and watched him pace around frustrated.

Your eyes were wide as you held your hands close to your chest. You’ve never seen Giyuu so upset before. “Giyuu, I’m sure we’ll find it! The wind must have blown it away into the forest behind our home!” You tried, taking a step closer to him.

“(Name), how can you be so careless as to lose my haori?” He asks, voice laced with annoyance as he turns to face you. “You understand how important it is to me, couldn’t you have kept a better eye on it?”

His words slowly degraded you as you sunk into yourself—Giyuu never spoke to you this way.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean for this to have happened...I just wanted to take care of it for you,” you reply gently but all Giyuu could do was muster a sigh.

“It would have been better if I never had given it to you in the first place,” brushing past you, Giyuu walks into the bedroom as you stand frozen in your spot, shaken with tears.

Hearing him say those words to you hurt you a lot. He didn’t trust you anymore and to know that, it really hurt you.

Tears fell from your eyes as you silently sobbed into your hands. Why did you have to be so stupid sometimes? So careless that even Giyuu could get upset with you.

The next morning came by and you awoke to Giyuu getting ready to go to his pillar meeting. Gathering up the courage, you rose from the futon to find your husband only to find him by the door, getting ready to leave the residence.

“Have a safe day, Giyuu,” you say warmly to him only to be met with silence and the sight of his back. You watched sadly as he ignored your words, sliding the shoji door open and closing it shut behind without even sparing you a glance.

Your gaze dropped as you frowned sadly at the ground. You knew how much the haori meant to him, but you didn’t expect him to act this way towards you, his wife.

Shaking your head, you ran to the bedroom with a found sense of determination as you quickly changed out of your sleepwear into a wearable yukata.

“Nothing will be solved if I don’t try to find that haori,” you say to yourself as you lightly pack for the journey.

Imagining how thrilled Giyuu would be once you’ve found his haori was all you could hope for. But searching for the haori was no easy task.

The forest seemed to go on for miles as you stared at the neverending lines of trees. Stepping foot into the dirt ground, you glanced around hoping that your eyes would catch the mix-matched haori.

Yet, after hours and hours of searching, you stared down at your empty hands. Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes as you turned to stare at the setting sun.

You didn’t want to go home empty-handed and a failure. You wanted to go home to Giyuu with his haori in your hands. For him to speak to you, to look at you again.

Defeated, you decided it to be better for you to head home while the sun was still out. You didn’t want to run into trouble with any demons and you didn’t want to cause Giyuu any more trouble than you already had.

Just as you were about to turn back, your eye caught sight of a familiar looking pattern before you ran to get a closer look.

Sure enough, it was Giyuu’s haori.

Breaking out into a wide smile, you ran toward the large tree, setting your back down before carefully climbing to retrieve the precious clothing. Once your hand pressed against the soft silk material, you felt all the tension escape your body.

Giyuu would love you once more.

Dropping down onto your feet, you inspected the haori thoroughly, relieved to find out that it was still in mint condition, just the way you last saw it.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight,” folding the haori gently, you tuck it into the front of your yukata before gathering your items to return home.

The sun was quickly setting leaving you with shadows upon shadows as you locked sight of the exit.

With each step, you could already see how relieved Giyuu would be to see you back with his haori—you couldn’t wait to be back in his arms.

A silent cry tore from your lips as you were tackled onto the ground by such a force that you dropped your bag from your arms, separating you from your wisteria flowers.

Your eyes widened as you stared up at the demon above you as they held your shoulders down, eyes locked onto you with a devilish grin. “Why is such a precious little one wandering alone in the forest where demons lurk?”

Words died on your lips as you stared into their own. You were so close to exiting, but now you had a demon on your hands.

Was Giyuu close? You weren’t sure.

Before they could say another word, you crashed your head forward at the demon before they let you go, wailing in pain as you made your escape toward the cliff of the mountain where the sun was still shining down.

“If I have to go down, I’m taking you down with me,” the demon growls as they lunge at you, sending the two of you off the cliff before disintegrating in the sun.

Feeling your weightless body fly through the air, you reach toward the cliff in hopes that someone could be there to take your hand.

But you were met with the empty air.

As Giyuu treaded home, he couldn’t help but think of you. Maybe he was a bit rough with you the other night.

Yes, he was upset that you lost his haori. He knew that you understood how important it was to him and knew that you wouldn’t purposely lose it.

The joy in your face the moment he handed you the haori always filled his heart with love and he would do it a million times over to see you so happy.

His haori was a story in the past, maybe it was time to let them go.

Sliding the door to his home open, Giyuu was surprised to see it dark and lifeless. Usually, you would be there to have dinner ready, but maybe you fell asleep again.

Walking up to the bedroom, he was surprised to see it empty. Where could you be at such a time?

Giyuu didn’t want to assume the worst. Maybe you were still shopping in town, he knew how much you enjoyed being in the village. But the sun had long set and there was still no sign of you.

His heart began to race as he thought of the multiple scenarios that ran across his head. Only once he smelled the familiar scent of the wisteria flowers did he come back to his senses.

Glancing down at the kitchen table, he saw the bunches of wisteria flowers. Did you go out at a time like this?

Giyuu never moved so fast in his life before. You were probably out looking for his haori that he got upset over, he was such an idiot.

Running toward the forest like you had suggested yesterday, Giyuu looked around for you, only to find no trace of you anywhere. His palms were sweaty as his stomach began to churn, the nervousness slowly taking over his body.

Right then, he caught sight of the little bag you always carried with you. Running over towards the bag, his eyes widened once he confirmed it was yours, packed with wisteria flowers as just as he thought.

Though your bag was here, there was no sight of you anywhere.

Just as he was about to turn back into the forest, Giyuu noticed the rough footsteps leading towards the edge of the cliff. He felt sick just thinking of what could have happened, but he needed to make sure.

He had to see it for himself.

The sun was long gone, but the moon that rose in the sky illuminated ground for him. Staring down at the bottom of the cliff, Giyuu noticed a dark silhouette beside the river. Could that be you?

Rushing down, Giyuu’s heart raced with each step that brought him closer. And to his heart’s dismay, there you were.

“(Name)!” Picking your wet, unconscious body up, Giyuu worriedly pushed your hair back only to reveal the blood painted along the side of your head as you head lolled backward.

Pressing his head on your chest, Giyuu felt all the tension leave his body when he heard the soft flutter of your heartbeat.

He still had a chance of saving you.

Holding you close to his body, Giyuu ran towards the butterfly estate where he knew you could get the care you needed to come back to him.

As soon as Shinobu saw you passed out in his arms, she immediately went to work to save you. Her orders were placed onto Aoi and the younger girls as she checked your state in a hurried matter.

“I-Is she okay?” Giyuu asked only for Shinobu to turn around and usher him out of the room. “You stay out here, I’ll come get you when I’m done,” she states before shutting the door in his face.

Sighing, Giyuu could only stand beside the door in hopes that you’d be okay.

What seemed like forever, Shinobu finally stepped outside your room before shutting the door shut, turning to glance at Giyuu who was waiting frantically for an answer on your condition.

“She barely has a heartbeat, but she’s there,” She informs as Giyuu lets out a sigh at her words, his fists clenched tight beside him.

“She has a high fever on top of a possible concussion. She’s lucky to be alive at all after a fall from that height, likely that she fell into the river before making it to shore.” Shinobu informs, placing a hand on Giyuu’s shoulder.

Her purple eyes watch him before raising her hand to hold something out for him. “(Name) had this tucked in her yukata. I think it belongs to you,”

Raising his head, Giyuu’s eyes lock onto the familiar haori before he shakily takes it into his hands. Unraveling the folded fabric, Giyuu took notice of the new stitches that were done so delicately by your gentle hands.

“You can go and see her, just don’t try to wake her up, she needs all the rest she can get,” and with that, Shinobu walks away leaving Giyuu alone in the quiet hallway.

Hesitating before the door, Giyuu finally slid the door open before walking towards the side of your bed where you rested.

His blue eyes gazed over your weak body before he slipped his large hand into your smaller one, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Please wake up soon, (Name).”

Though Giyuu wanted you to get all the rest you could, he wasn’t expecting you to be out for three whole days.

Don’t worry about it too much, she’s just resting from her injuries,” was what Shinobu had explained to him when he asked why you still hadn’t woken up. And he had no choice but to trust her words.

But when he walked into your room one day to see you awake and sitting up in your bed, he had never felt so relieved before. Running over to you, he stopped beside your bed before falling onto his knees from exhaustion.

“Giyuu?” he heard your soft voice say before you ran your fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?”

“(Name), you’re awake..” Giyuu responded weakly before he snaked his arms around your waist. “I-I’m so happy.”

Lifting his head up to meet your eyes, all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms. But the sight of your pale and frail self was wrapped up in bandages, Giyuu held himself back for your sake.

“Was I out long?” you asked, shocked to find out you were out for three days. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” you replied, reaching for his hand.

“Don’t apologize to me. Not when you’re in this state because of me.” Giyuu’s gaze fell onto your lap as he clenched his teeth frustrated at himself. “I should have never treated you like I did.”

Seeing his haori peek out from his lap, you let out a sigh before bringing your hand toward his cheek, lifting his head up to look at you. “Giyuu, honey,” your voice is like honey to him as you lean down to press a kiss in the middle of his brows. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Gazing into his eyes, you give him a small smile before shifting to one side of the bed as best as you could before patting the empty side, “Come here,” you say, Giyuu’s cheeks turning a rosy color as he stared dumbfoundedly.

“I-I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, (Name),” he confesses only for you to gently pull him up. “You wouldn’t hurt me, I always feel safe in your arms.”

Thankfully, it was enough to get Giyuu to join you. He was still a little awkward and tense with you, but learned to loosen up when he felt you snuggling into his chest.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, resting a hand on Giyuu’s chest. “I love you, Giyuu,”

Hearing those soft, innocent words leave your lips, Giyuu made a mental note to shower you in all the love and affection he could once you got out of bedrest.

Pressing a kiss onto your forehead Giyuu rested his head on yours before shutting his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you in his arms once more.

You deserved everything in the world and more.

- e x t r a -

“Tomioka-san? I’m here to check up on-” upon entering the room, Shinobu quickly cut her sentence short as she gazed at the loving couple who laid asleep on the small bed, cuddled close together like two perfect puzzle pieces.

A smile rose onto her lips as she quietly turned back before shutting the door close, making sure that the two could get a good rest with no interruptions.

Walking back toward her office, she couldn’t help but smile at the couple. She always enjoyed teasing Giyuu, but she was glad that he had found someone to love him as he loved them.

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 44 - Wasteland

Title: Irreverent Pt. 44 - Wasteland Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~12K

Irreverent Series Masterlist

The door lies ajar, waiting for you. Aaron had disappeared past the threshold and out of sight, and your feet felt firmly planted to the floor, unwilling to move. The dread you're feeling about this upcoming conversation, overpowering everything else. You're not quite ready to talk to him immediately, the conversation with the team was still incredibly fresh as you try to make sense of the night's events so far.

John showing up out of the blue had been cathartic in a way, and you're not sure why you hadn't at least somewhat anticipated it. You knew you should've called him after your father's death, but back then you'd been so caught up in the torrent of everything else - with Aaron coming back and Emily being alive, the Senate hearing and you and Aaron not talking, mixed with the fear of the repercussions of you killing your own father. Reaching out to John hadn't been an immediate thought. By the time it occurred to you, it felt like it had been too late and you didn't want to stir up old wounds for no reason. You and John had done a remarkable job at a clean cut - you'd never once reached out and neither had he, respecting your decision.

Seeing him again - it was like your soul reuniting with its twin. Telling him everything had been so easy - he had been the one to see you through the worst time in your life. He had been the only other person equally devastated by Julian’s death. He’d been your friend and confidante. When you’d told him about your father, it had taken him a moment. A moment to process the gravity of it all. But then he’d looked at you and he was so proud. No one else had ever understood - not Aaron, not Derek, not Emily. None of them understood that you had executed the only option. If your father could get Doyle out of maximum security in the Balkans, there hadn’t been a hope in this world that he would be truly punished for his crimes. Simply seeing him arrested would’ve never been enough. The Bible says an eye for eye for a reason. You’d had no choice. John knew. Only he knew.

When he’d leaned down and kissed you afterwards, you saw it for what it was. It hadn’t been a resurgence of all of your old feelings for one another. It was new, hopeful - it had been the two of you how it was meant to be, freed from the shadow of Julian’s disapproval, family responsibility, and your father’s betrayal. But it wasn’t the same for you - not anymore. Not until Aaron had you understood the difference between a soul your own recognizes as its twin and one that it chooses as its partner.

John had taken it well, all things considered.

You could imagine after how you'd ended it, after the shock of it all wore off, how upset he must've been. The anger he must've felt. You'd ignored his feelings for the duration of your intimate relationship with him, finding it easier to shove them to the side in favor of keeping your head down and focused. It was only in the aftermath, after you'd removed yourself from the one track mindset you'd adopted in your charge towards bringing your father down, that you allowed yourself to really think about how badly you must've hurt him. You knew you had to remove yourself from his life in order to cause no further harm - for the both of you.

John would forever hold a place in your heart. No matter how much you’d tried to ignore it for the duration of your relationship with him, you had loved him. He had been your love for years and years - starting as a childish crush and morphing into so much more. There were days during your relationship with Matthew - early on - when you regretted not ignoring Julian’s ultimatum to John. You’d nearly had a moment of weakness at Dom and Katie’s wedding - nearly asked John to not only be your first kiss but to be your first everything. But you’d known that he wouldn’t have been content with just that. Not then. You’d been far too in deep with doing the right thing by your family then.

Of course it had come to a head when you’d realized that this could be your life - a life of being Matthew’s wife and being your father’s puppet. The Thanksgiving that Matthew had proposed, you’d gone home with the full intention of telling John you wanted out - out of Matthew, out of your father, out of everything. You wanted him. But then, he’d been with Cece again and he’d smiled when he spoke of her, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with this happiness - that joy that comes from something new that is wonderful in the most unexpected of ways. You couldn’t do that to him then - not if he was properly moving on even when you’d been unable to after four years. Then of course Matthew had proposed and what else was there… You’d said yes because he’d asked.

After Matthew, after how he had treated you in the final months of your relationship, it was like you shut down. The number of times you left halfway with some guy, the number of times you tried to convince yourself to just close your eyes and do it with someone else, just once - just once to get it over with so you could move past the Matthew thing. You weren’t able to. Try as you might, Matthew had flipped something in you and you weren’t able to turn it back on your own. It would've taken a miracle for you to trust someone like that again. John had been your miracle. His grief-stricken face, his soft lips, his gentle touch. How could you not have trusted him? Even afterwards, when you realized that you needed more. More than was fair to ask of him. More than you could give back. He had given you everything. Done everything. Been everything.

That final time, you’d gone back to him thinking you could finally give him everything too. He deserved it. He deserved you at your best. Even when, afterwards, you realized how intricately linked he was to Julian - how you couldn’t separate the two of them in your mind if you tried. They were brothers. They were brothers far more than Dominic and Julian had ever been. John, however, even then, when you knew you were breaking his heart and yours, he had been nothing short of perfect. You owed him so much.

Getting over him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do.

Your arm is throbbing once again, so you make your way towards the kitchen, the sound of your heels echoing against the marble flooring. You take a couple more of the painkillers, downing some water, as you continue to stare at the opening to the bedroom, one hand clutched around the pendant dangling from your neck as your fingers fret around it.

You feel as though you’re staring into a dark pit while you try to gather your wits about you for the upcoming conversation with Aaron. You know - so very completely - how hurt he must be. Seeing John kiss you and then subsequently learning that you'd told John one of the biggest secrets of your lives alongside the rest of the team - none of this was easy. You'd had a near meltdown when an intern had so much as flirted with him - and that was an intern who meant absolutely nothing. A stranger. He'd watched as someone who knew you at least as intimately as Aaron himself, kissed you. The two of them were probably the people who knew you best in the entire world and you'd always gone out of your way to not bring up John to Aaron. You know how you sometimes feel threatened by his connection to Haley - which is entirely irrational in and of itself, and yet it is there. You'd never wanted him to question his place and prominence in your life. John might know the old you, but Aaron knows you now, and no one could hold a light to him when it came to that. It's that thought - the belief that Aaron knows you even if he doesn't know everything about you, that gives you the courage to go to him.

You walk gingerly towards the bedroom, trying hard to tread softly so your heels don't hit the floors quite as thunderously as before. You're almost reluctant to cross that entrance. Only the dim lights around the perimeter of the room are on, casting shadows all around.

Aaron's seated at the edge of the bed, still fully dressed - sans jacket, which you'd left on the couch outside - feet resolutely planted to the floor, elbows rested on his knees and arms crossed loosely in front with his head bent downwards, staring at his own shoes. He doesn't look up as you enter, even though you're certain he can hear and feel your presence in the room. You carefully close the door to the room behind you, being deliberate to avoid anymore unnecessary noise in order to not bother any of the rest of the occupants.

"Aaron." Your voice comes out so low that for a moment you worry that you'd spoken only in your head and not out loud.

He doesn't even look up.

You falter. He's not even acknowledging your presence. The balls of your feet hurt while you stand near the doorway, thinking through your next step as you watch him sit on the bed, motionless.

He's entirely in the right to be angry with you, and you know you need to allow him to be upset. He can't be made to feel like he somehow has to console you. In that moment, you make a deal with yourself. You will not cry. Not a single tear will fall in front of him, because you know Aaron. You don't want him to feel manipulated or otherwise influenced by your feelings and your emotions. He is far too affected when you're upset and will do everything within his power to make you feel better. He deserves to feel through his emotions without putting his needs on the backburner for you.

Making up your mind, you move towards him, stopping right in front and lowering yourself to your knees at his feet. Your heels dig into your behind, which you ignore.

You look up at him, placing your hands on his knees and forcing his typically warm brown eyes to meet yours. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I'm so sorry you saw that. I am so sorry," you breathe out, trying to maintain your composure and keep your hands from shaking.

He looks up at you sharply, his eyes flickering over your face, trying to understand what you’d just said. "Are you sorry that it happened or are you sorry that I saw it happen?" he rasps out, his throat dry and scratchy.

You're taken aback by his words, unsure of how to respond, realizing your slip. It was John though, and as much as you love Aaron, you have a very difficult time saying no to John for anything. Four years ago, if he had asked you to stay, you would have done it for him. When he'd kissed you, you hadn't pushed him away, despite not responding in kind. You couldn't bear to reject him that way. When the two of you had both seen Aaron standing across the street, when you'd told him that you were with Aaron, John had been entirely contrite, apologizing profusely, offering to go talk to Aaron himself if that would help at all. But, you can't bring yourself to lie to Aaron, and your subsequent silence tells him everything he needs to know.

You can see the faint glimmer of tears in Aaron's eyes before he turns his head away from you and blinks. You have to bite your lip and force yourself to focus on the stinging pain from that in order to prevent your own tears. You promised yourself that you wouldn't.

"I think I need some space," he says turning back and looking at a spot on the wall above your head, his words a whispered sigh. He won't look at you anymore.

Your hands are tight fists as you take in what he'd asked for, your heart threatening to burst out of its cage as it dawns on you exactly how bad this is for Aaron to ask for space. The two of you have never done that before. Arguments get resolved by bedtime. You both stay in the room and you talk it out until either one person gives in or you arrive at a compromise. Never once have you gone to bed angry with Aaron. It might work for some couples, but that had never been the case for you. But, if that's what he needs, of course you'll give it to him. You'd give him whatever he asked for.

You exhale on a shaky nod, lips tight so as to prevent the choked whimper in your throat from materializing. Dropping your hands from his knees, you push yourself up on your own, wobbling unsteadily in the heels, your eyes trained firmly on Aaron as you slowly back away towards the bathroom. Maybe if you just took a shower and he had a chance to sit by himself and think, he'd be ready to talk.

You look at him a final time as he continues to stare past you, before closing the door to the bathroom behind. You don't lock it - you never lock the door when it's just the two of you.

You turn on the shower, letting the loud rush of water be your cover as you finally allow yourself to fall apart. Stumbling out of the heels, you sink to the floor, thighs meeting your chest as you drop your head to your knees, unable to hold in your tears any longer. You can feel yourself tremble as you're fully wracked by sobs - the overwhelming feeling of dread and impending doom taking over any rational part of you, as your breath swells and your lungs struggle to pull in any air at all.

Your mind is a swirl of the past week - of Aaron and you that first night in this very bathroom, of him holding you after you made the deal with Terry, the night up on the roof where he pledged forever to you, his face after the fire. On a loop - Aaron being giving and kind, Aaron comforting you, Aaron loving you, Aaron worrying about you. He was perfect. You were anything but.

At least ten minutes have passed, if the small clock on the counter is accurate, before you have enough control over yourself in order to stand up and slip out of the dress, resorting to yanking it off clumsily since you couldn't reach the zipper without help. You catch sight of your reflection in the mirror - your makeup had bled down your face and your previously sleek ponytail is held together barely after you'd run your hands through it only minutes ago out of frustration at your inability to stop crying.

You finally stand under the steady stream of hot water, letting it scald your skin as you try to burn away the memory of tonight - of John's kiss, of Aaron's face afterwards, of his unending silence and empty stare. You scrub your skin harshly and lather the shampoo vigorously through your hair - the disappointment in yourself for having been the cause of Aaron's pain, propelling you to take vengeance upon your own body as penance.

There's a part of you that expects him to enter the shower after you as he often has before. Slipping in behind you and taking you in his arms, telling you all is forgiven and that you're both alright, before meeting your lips and erasing even the impression of another's lips against yours to dust. What wouldn't you give for that to be the case.

Your fingers have pruned considerably and the steam in the bathroom is starting to suffocate you with its heaviness before you feel prepared to face him once again. You dry yourself off with a fair amount of trepidation, as the anticipation of speaking with him builds. You find an old pair of pajamas in the closet, foregoing grabbing the pair in your go bag so that you can emerge fully clothed, instead of appearing to be attemping some sort of cheap ploy for his forgiveness.

You steel yourself in front of the door, fully dressed, semi wet tendrils of hair falling down your back as well as by the side of your face. You open the door and exit back into the room, only to find it empty. You think maybe he'd gone to speak with Rossi or maybe even Emily - get some sort of outside perspective on the matter. You can't fault him for that. Either one of them would only help. However, as you make your way into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, you notice that his jacket that you'd set on the arm of the couch is also missing.

He'd left.

*------------*

Aaron had stared at the closed bathroom door after you'd disappeared behind it. He hadn't heard the clicking of a lock, so he knows you've left it open for him if he so chooses.

His mind is reeling from everything and he hates himself for acting so cold towards you while he processes it all. It's very much like how he was with Haley when they would argue - he'd shut down emotionally and take the time to process his feelings and then discuss them with her afterwards. While that wasn't necessarily unhealthy, it wasn't how things worked between you and him. You two talked. He explained his thought process to you because you would also at least understand his reasoning even if you didn't always agree with it. He could tell you why he was being a certain way or why he'd made a particular call and instead of getting upset with him about it or refusing to even consider his reason as valid - which was how it often went with Haley and ultimately led to him withdrawing explanations around his decisions - you listened. You gave him the time and opportunity to talk through his rationale and if you had logical or even emotional reasons for disagreeing with him, you'd explain too. Fights with you were nothing like fights he was used to in a relationship. With the pure standout exception of the time after you'd resigned, you'd never once raised your voice at him and he was cognizant of never doing the same.

His vision had blurred after you'd crossed the street and approached him. Things had felt hazy around the edges.

The walk back to the apartment had been miserably long despite being maybe only five or ten minutes. He finds himself shutting you out because that was an easier way to keep himself in check.

He hadn't expected to feel the rage that he did. Disappointment and sadness was one thing - hurt feelings, sure. But anger was simply not a feeling that he associated with you and he's not sure where it's stemming from exactly but he knows it isn't just about the fact that he saw someone else kiss you. It's not about the kiss because that's how he keeps framing it to himself - someone else kissing you. There had not been a single thing that made it seem like you had kissed back and in his gut he knows you hadn't. So it's not quite the kiss itself that he's angry about, but it is something.

Aaron had listened intently when you'd explained to the team why you'd told John about the Doyle mission. How he'd been the only person you'd had in the aftermath of Julian's death - how he was the only one that understood. That John deserved to know. Aaron wanted to challenge that - what exactly had John done that earned him that particular privilege? Not like he'd know even if John had done something especially remarkable - you'd never spoken to him about John. Not to him at least. Morgan apparently had known. Aaron hadn't. He has to wonder why that is. What is it about John that makes you not want to talk to Aaron about him?

He'd gone into the bedroom afterwards and waited for you, unsure of what to expect. His head feels heavy and he just slumps down as he waits, the coiling pit in his stomach feels like lead. He'd give just about anything for this entire week to have never happened. He should've just told you to stay home and enjoy your time off and none of this would've happened. If he could close his eyes and wish it all away, he would. In a heartbeat. He would.

You'd walked in and then before he could quite bring himself to look up, you'd crossed the floor and were right in front of him. The next second you're kneeling at his feet and that surge of panic he feels comes out of nowhere because what was this. He couldn't have ever imagined you kneeling in front of him in this manner, in such obvious repentance, and he doesn't want this. He doesn't want this at all but he's entirely frozen as the panic winds itself around his veins and squeezes tight, holding him in place. You tell him you're sorry - you're sorry that he saw. You hadn't wanted him to see. So, are you sorry that it happened or sorry that he saw? When he asks you, your silence seems to stretch out for an eternity as the panic gives way to the much uglier rage that he had pushed down outside the bar earlier. He can't possibly ignore what you said.

He needed space. He'd never quite needed that from you before, but right then he'd never felt more disconnected from you. He couldn't understand anything you'd done that night - from leaving with John, to telling him about Doyle and your father, to being kissed by him, to the apology you'd given Aaron. None of it made sense to him. He had to force himself to ignore the look on your face when he said he needed space. That entirely broken and confused look that would tell him you were in the same dark place he was because this wasn't you and it wasn't him and the two of you just…existed with one another so easily it was like there wasn't even another person there. So how could he possibly need space from you?

Before he could stop himself, he'd left the bedroom and was downstairs in front of the building. He had needed a moment to clear his head - fresh air - before he spoke with you again and he really didn't want to risk misspeaking and inadvertently making the situation worse. Hearing the shower turn on in the bathroom, knowing you'd left the door unlocked in the hope that he might just decide to let it all go - he couldn't just give in to that quite yet. He wasn't able to even if he tried.

Aaron could feel the rage boiling in his chest again as the scene of John kissing you plays over and over again in his head. You had allowed it. There was really no way around that. Maybe he hadn't known and maybe you hadn't reciprocated. Maybe. But you'd allowed it. You'd allowed him to get close. Allowed him to lean down. Allowed him to meet your lips. Allowed him the chance to linger. Allowed him to move away at his leisure. You'd allowed it. All of it. What the fuck was he supposed to make of that?

You were sorry that he saw - he can't help but repeat that over and over in his head. Did you even feel remorse that it happened at all? If your apology was to be taken at face value, then no. He can't help the rage that thought induces - the idea that you were perfectly alright with someone else kissing you. Not just someone else either - John. John whom you had gone with so willingly. John who you had gotten matching tattoos with. John who had known you in New York and likely knew all about you. John who had been there for you your entire life and had history with you that Aaron couldn't hope to compete with.

To top that all off, you had gone and told John about the Doyle mission. A classified mission. You hadn't even simply told him the high level details that he had carefully articulated in the case. You had told him everything - the cleverly disguised secret that he, Morgan, and Prentiss all kept for you. You had left them all open to implication and they'd all just trusted you. While he trusted you too, you could've at least asked him or talked to him about it beforehand? You could've run it by him and see if maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Yet you hadn't. You'd just gone off and told him and he was supposed to be alright with it. Accept it.

He walks a couple of laps around the block of the building, the night chill forcing him to burrow into his jacket further. It smelled like you - the scent of fresh pears and freesia mixed with the sweet vanilla citrus smell that seemed to always linger on you no matter what, invades his senses and he suppresses an audible groan at the memory of that scent wrapped around him. They say smell is the best memory agent and Aaron was very much struggling to repel the memories the scent of you carried with it. He didn't want to think of you in that way.

He'd walked a couple of blocks further and found himself back outside the bar the team had been at earlier. Wanting a reprieve from the chill and perhaps a drink to calm his nerves, he enters into the warmth of the bar, gratefully taking off the jacket as he goes. He finds a spot to one side of the bar top opposite from anyone else and waits for the bartender to notice him. The bartender appears to be engaged in a conversation with a regular and Aaron isn't immediately successful in getting his attention. Before he can attempt again, he feels and then sees from the corner of his eye, a body slide into the stool right next to him, despite there being quite a few open seats down from him.

Aaron turns to see the same man from earlier, his leather jacket in one hand and a crystal glass of amber liquid in the other, settle down next to him. He freezes entirely. Aaron had not prepared for this possibility.

He watches apprehensively out of the corner of his eye as John settles in, and then turns to the bartender. "Tom," he calls out in a familiar manner, "Can you get this man here a drink?"

There was an ease with which he carried himself, Aaron notes. He's a regular at this place too - likely had been with you. He's undoubtedly nervous, the slightly tensed shoulders and fidgety fingers giving him away. He hasn't quite looked in Aaron's direction entirely yet, and Aaron wasn't about to be the one to initiate whatever this was. He watches as the bartender - Tom - turns away from the other customers and grabbing a bottle of the same top shelf scotch you keep stocked at home, he settles a glass in front of Aaron and pours out two fingers worth. He also refills John's glass at his indication, before turning away.

Aaron stares at the drink in front of him, shoulders very tense, waiting. The drink was an obvious gesture of peace, but the loop of John kissing you earlier is on repeat with drums on in his head. His hands tighten into fists, resting on his thighs, jaw clenched tightly, the warmth in the bar becoming just this side of too much.

"We didn't get a chance to be properly introduced earlier," John says, finally breaking the silence, his voice a little heavier and his speech indicative of him having already had a couple of drinks prior to Aaron's arrival. "John Hawthorne," he says, pointing to himself, "and you're Aaron Hotchner."

Aaron blinks, entirely unsure of how to react, apprehensively looking up until he meets John's eyes. Aaron nods once, slowly, eyeing him carefully, trying to work out exactly what his agenda was. John was tense as well, looking at Aaron cautiously. It was a near bizarre situation to even be sitting here side by side with this person and Aaron felt wholly unprepared. He's not sure what life experience could possibly have prepared him for this - with Haley he hadn't even confronted her directly.

A part of him wants to just get up and walk away, but he feels compelled to stay - like no matter what happens next, he should see this through. He turns away from John and lifting the glass, takes a sip of the scotch. The familiar taste sits on his tongue and then rushes down his throat, leading to a pleasant burn in his chest that really warms him up. At least now he knew where you acquired a taste for good scotch from. He briefly wonders what else you'd gotten from John, before shaking that particular train of thought away.

John mirrors his action, as though drinking a shot of liquid courage, even though Aaron is quite certain by now that this is well past his first drink. However, he's a pretty large guy and it appears to have only loosened him up rather than making him drunk. Aaron is careful not to look too closely at the tattoo on John's wrist. It's familiarity serves only to cause a pang in his chest, a physical reminder of how very intimately he knows that date which he really didn't care for at the moment. It was a bit ridiculous how viscerally physical of a reaction he has to even memories of you.

Apparently having drawn the strength he needed, John continues. "I'm sorry," he articulates, "about earlier," undoubtedly referring to the moment when his lips had touched yours merely an hour or so prior. Aaron wondered whether the outline of the two of you under that street lamp was burned into the cement pavement underneath. His eyes had bored into you hard enough. It was a possibility.

Aaron bites his tongue to avoid reacting outwardly. It was an apology, sure. So far, a better apology than yours had been, discounting the fact that John hadn't gotten down on his knees.

"I didn't know she was with someone. I am sorry if that caused any problems for the two of you."

Aaron grunts, finally acknowledging that he'd heard and takes another sip, choosing to focus fully on savoring the taste of it on his tongue before allowing the burn to settle in his chest. He really had nothing to offer there - even if words were possible he wouldn't know which way to string them together.

"Though," John breathes out a humorless half laugh, "I guess it did cause problems if you're sitting here with me and not back with her."

Aaron's jaw clenches at the jab, whether intentional or not. Perhaps the two of you had gone to the same pretentious day school where they taught how to craft together not-so-great apologies.

John backs up a little, clearly picking up on how that had gone over.

It's quiet for a bit as the two of them drink silently side by side. Aaron has nothing to say to John. Yet, at least. His thoughts go back to what you'd said earlier to the team - how John had been all you'd had after Julian died and you learned the truth. He feels his intestines coil with the realization of how entirely alone you'd been then. You'd been twenty two years old, all alone, fresh out of an engagement with your entire world crashing around you. Julian's death was one thing, but finding out that it was your father who'd made the call was soul wrenchingly horrifying. You'd gone overnight from being a Harvard graduate with her entire life in front of her to questioning everyone and everything. John had been there - he had apparently been the one person you could bring yourself to put some faith in.

"She told me, you know," John says, his voice a near mumble that Aaron has to strain to hear over the noise in the bar. "About what you did for her - with her father...thank you."

Aaron finds himself nodding. Of course you'd told him that as well. He looks at the man next to him carefully. Seeing John sitting there - despite everything - that was proof that the two of you would seemingly do anything for each other. Aaron doesn't know if he could've sat there in John's place. But John had sat and apologized and that was a lot more than most people would be able to do. Aaron knows he's doing it for you.

"That vengeance, that drive to conquer him, for a while that was the only thing that kept her going - as ugly as it was, it was something," he adds. "The pain of losing Julian and finding out the truth about him, it was all too much for her." His hands shake a bit around his glass. "There was a time - back then - when I'd go to bed every day scared I'd lose them both."

There's something about John's words that prickles a thought in Aaron's brain and he turns to look at John, his eyes downcast, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his glass, shoulders hunched and turned ever so slightly away from Aaron. He was the picture of a man who had said too much, and Aaron finds himself going back and dissecting that confession. He'd been afraid to lose both of you…

It's quiet again while Aaron broods on what was just said and John sits stoically beside him, keeping him company in his meditations.

Aaron couldn't discount the importance - that position John held in your life. He was more struck by the fact that, despite the significance of John in your life, he'd hardly ever heard of him. He's left feeling like there were two versions of you - the one that you showed him and the real version. The version that had been systematically sequestered away in Manhattan these past few years as though it had no significance to the person you were today.

He realizes that was at least a large part of the anger. The entire week had been a walk down memory lane for you, revealing all of these parts of your life that he knew about in only the vaguest of senses. He had been led to believe that he knew everything there was to know about you and he was confronted with the reality that that might not be the case. It had all culminated with John, but truth be told, John had merely been the tipping point. He'd been feeling odd about this the entire week, from the moment you'd mentioned you still maintained a residence in New York.

He looks at John again, whose head is bent over, shoulders hunched as he focuses on the drink in his hand. Aaron can feel that your secret is safe with him, despite not knowing him at all. You trusted him. That's what mattered.

"She seems happy," John says, speaking up again as he turns to look at Aaron, having felt his gaze, a small smile on his lips in contrast to the sadness Aaron can see evident in his eyes. "I didn't really see her happy until that last time, and I know that you and your team are the reason for that happiness - that you especially are part of that."

Aaron has to suppress the smile that almost appears on his face. He covers it with the glass of scotch in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth once again. It was somewhat validating to have someone who knew you so well attest to your happiness - yours and his and your collective happiness. Aaron hadn't been around for your lowest points - he'd run when Emily died and in the aftermath of your father's death he'd been estranged from you. John had been there after Julian. Of all people, he had been witness to the wasteland that you'd inhabited in the aftermath.

John had been there. He'd been it for you.

Aaron thinks he finally understands what you meant when you said that you were sorry that he saw it happen - he's pretty sure it would've happened no matter what. He can't quite blame John for seeing you after God only knew how long, thinking you had finally vanquished the evil that was your father, seeing you happy - he might not be alright with what had happened, but he could follow the thought process.

The ill will Aaron had felt towards John was slowly lifting. The good scotch definitely helped.

"You know that last time, she seemed lighter and happier than I'd seen her in two years. She came for Christmas and it was like having her back - it was what I'd been waiting for that whole time. She told me about some kid's birthday party she was going to - we talked about what presents a two year old would want and it was funny because she had no idea," he said, a fond smile on his face.

Aaron chuckles, surprisingly even himself. "I'm pretty sure that was our son Jack's birthday," he says, before realizing his own words. He did think of Jack as yours - has forever. But it was one thing to think it, and another to verbalize it to a near stranger. Especially this one.

John seems momentarily surprised but takes it in stride, and Aaron can't help but feel his respect for this man grow. It would take a lot for someone in his position to not react to a statement like that.

"How'd he like the Lego Death Star?" John asks, remembering what the two of you had landed on as an appropriate present.

"We spent a few weekends building it. It still sits in his room," Aaron replies, allowing his shoulders to ease up.

John smiles. "Good. She would've never come up with that on her own, you know. She was looking up stuff online and was about to buy one of those little car things, but I figured not all parents want their toddler zooming around in a scale replica Lamborghini."

Aaron actually laughs at that. Of course that's what you'd thought to get for Jack, never being one to do anything small. As much as Jack would've loved that, him and Haley would've had their hands full running after him.

It was good to know that some things about you were still very much the same as they'd always been. That birthday party had been towards the beginning of you, him, and Jack hanging out together. In the early days, that’s primarily what happened. Aaron had been fresh out of the divorce with Haley and he was struggling with Jack. It made him feel like a poor father - one who couldn’t take care of his son by himself. Over time it had gotten a lot easier, but those first few months of his and Haley’s arrangement had only been bearable because of you. You’d helped make that transition so easy. You had such a natural and effortless relationship with Jack from the start - he’d envied it. Both him and Haley had struggled in the beginning, as he was sure that all new parents do. It’s likely a lot easier when the child isn’t entirely your responsibility. However, regardless of that, having you around with Jack had helped a lot. He remembers how you’d gotten him a Smithsonian family pass, and it had resulted in you being asked to accompany the two of them as the pass accommodated up to four people. In that time, he often fantasized about asking you out - just you. Without a Jack in one hand and a bag of snacks and juice boxes in the other. But he didn’t think it would go over well. You were there for Jack. Any friendship you and Aaron had was a byproduct of that. Over time, sure, things had changed. But there was always that nagging voice in his head that told him that you were with him because of Jack.

He’s driven out of his thoughts by a friendly nudge to his shoulder. Aaron shakes himself out of his reverie, a little surprised by how at ease he felt around this guy. He didn’t think that would have been possible an hour ago and yet here he sat beside him, having a drink together, sharing a laugh. It was truly a strange turn of events.

John nods towards the empty glass in front of Aaron, “Another?” he asks, eyebrow quirked up in a manner that feels far too familiar.

Aaron notes the time on his watch, realizing he’s been gone far too long - longer than he’d meant to be away for.

He shakes his head and stands, grabbing his jacket, before turning to John. “Next time,” he says with a slight uptick of his jaw, sticking his hand out.

John appears surprised by Aaron’s words, and it takes him a second to react. However once he does, his smile reaches his eyes and he shakes Aaron’s hand firmly.

*------------*

Realizing that Aaron had left had pushed you into a near panicked state, and you'd had to force yourself to not go to Emily’s or Derek's rooms and simply cry. He'd left and that was not something you'd been prepared for at all. If he'd left - he'd been unable to be around you for even a second more - that could only mean the worst.

He'd needed space. This night had been a lot - for both of you - and he had said he needed space. You'd thought that meant like half an hour so you'd taken an extra long shower. But now…did that mean more? Did he mean that he needed space from you entirely?

You do your best to control your breathing as your brain goes into overdrive. It was much harder without him there to help you, rubbing your back and whispering soothingly into your ear.

You needed something to focus on, so you decided to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer before doing another run through of the bedroom and closet gathering any remaining dirty clothes. You manage to sweep both the common spaces and the bedroom while you wait. Wait and think. There wasn’t much else to be done.

If Aaron wanted space - true space - if he wanted a break or even to break up (the thought alone made you want to curl up into a ball and lie on the floor again) - however if that was what he wanted, he was well within his rights to demand it. While you might not think you'd cheated, there was a possibility that Aaron had, especially after you'd admitted that you'd done nothing to stop the kiss, merely hadn't reciprocated in kind. But perhaps that was enough. With Aaron especially, someone who valued loyalty so highly, it might be enough.

There's always been a part of you that thought there was more to his and Haley's divorce and Aaron was never one to speak ill of Haley, but sometimes you wondered. Derek had told you that Aaron had requested a transfer at one point, which had somehow gone away very close to his and Haley's divorce.

Maybe it wasn't even the kiss though, but everything else around it. Bringing up all of the stuff with your father, John, Julian - stuff that for the most part is not brought up anymore. You've noticed - how could you not - that Aaron has struggled this week upon learning a lot of your past. You know the stalker thing bothered him even if he didn't vocalize it. You know the photographers bothered him even if he played along. John definitely was part of the reason for the upset currently, and in many ways John was periphery to everything else. You were the eye of the storm - your very presence brought with it chaos. It was too much. It was all far too much for any reasonable person to want to handle. You were too much.

It would be a lot for a normal person - someone with a laidback job who could afford to extend themselves to the specific brand of bedlam that you tried to sell in a pretty package. But for Aaron - the man who already carried the burden of the world on his shoulders - it was far too much to expect for him to bear this as well. You shouldn't. A better person - a good person - would leave him in peace. A peace that can't ever really be achieved when your mind itself is the source of tumult. Sure, you put on a good act, but Aaron can see through the cracks, you're sure. This week had given him a front row seat to exactly how fucked in the head you really were. Good girls, normal girls, they don't invite stalkers, they don't have paparazzi following them, they don't have ex-whatevers showing up just to be told about the secret mission where they murdered their own father.

Not for the first time, you find yourself thinking how much better off Aaron would be with someone else - someone sweet and kind whose hands were clean. You had far too much red in your ledger to make up for. Things he didn't even know about. Things no one knew about.

You try to do your best to compartmentalize. As difficult as it was in this case, you needed to separate your feelings from reality and manage them individually if possible. If Aaron's intention would be to end it, then what? You'd have to sit down and talk to Jack - hopefully together. Explain that things would be changing a bit, but that it wouldn't change anything between you and Jack. Knowing Aaron, by now, he'd want you to be in Jack's life still even if he might not want you in his. The primary goal for the both of you would be to ensure that Jack's life didn't lose the stability it had.

It would be easier for you to move out rather than to have Jack and Aaron move. But then Aaron would get all weird about staying in your home even though it's been his and Jack's home as well. But initially, at least, it would be easier for it to be just you - until you can help him find a different place. You could easily just stay in a hotel temporarily. You're away a lot lately anyways. Make things easier on Jack, Mrs. Avery - their routines didn't have to change. Speaking of Mrs. Avery, you'd need to talk to Aaron about working something out for her payment - right now Aaron paid for her but that was without rent and she wasn't exactly cheap. You could change the stipulations of the trust to cover any of Jack's expenses - assuming Aaron was alright with that.

Then there was the matter of the Christmas in Paris booking - you'd have to contact your travel agent and figure that out. Maybe you could rebook it and Jack and Aaron could still enjoy a trip, maybe even Europe still. Jack had been really looking forward to it. He wanted to have scones in England and croissants in Paris. That kid was just as much into pastries and dessert as you were. Aaron blamed you for that entirely.

But then - he'd promised he wouldn't leave you. Aaron was good at keeping his promises. He might also feel some sort of odd obligation to hold himself to that promise he’d made to you in the beginning. That he wouldn’t break your heart. In which case, maybe it was up to you to rip off the bandaid. Do what he couldn't. It would be less painful for you both in the long run. Cut your losses now, before too much was invested. You'd only moved in together and while there were days you felt like you were practically married, that really wasn't the case at all. He wouldn't have to wait as long as he had after Haley. It wasn't a divorce really. A breakup. A simple breakup. People breakup everyday. In a few months or a year he could find someone else. Jack was an adorable child. Anyone would love to be around him.

Breaking your own heart was allowed.

You would be alright, you told yourself. Eventually. You would have to work out some sort of agreement with him about Jack. Maybe every other weekend. But you would be alright. Eventually. It would suck of course in the beginning, but well, you were busy. You'd been debating the whole partnership with Clyde and telling him you were out after this assignment wrapped up, but that didn't necessarily have to be the case. You could transfer. You could move entirely. The world was your oyster. You'd just have to figure out something with Jack.

When it came to the team, McKinney's redesignation of you couldn't have come at a more opportune time. More likely than not this was one of your last cases with the team, so it shouldn't change the dynamics there too much. Emily and Derek would try to blame him, but you'd sit them down and explain that it was your fault. You were the culprit, the reason it didn't work out, not him. He had done his best to put up with all the baggage you came laden with and truly it wasn't his fault. It was just too cumbersome to help carry for any person. Especially if they came with heavy crap of their own.

The dryer beeps and you go to take out Aaron's load of laundry out and carry it into the room, dumping it onto the bed so that you can fold it while it’s still warm, to avoid wrinkles. He hates wrinkles.

It would be alright, you chanted to yourself repeatedly. Everything would be alright. He would end it, and you would survive. You could survive it. If he couldn't, you'd have to do it for him, and that would take its toll, but it was better for him and for Jack. It would be alright. You just had to keep telling yourself that. You've survived worse than being broken up with by Aaron Hotchner. This too shall pass and all that.

You get up to grab Aaron's go bag from under the settee so that you can put his clothes away in there. It feels empty save for one thing rattling around in there at the bottom, and you're about to unzip it and put everything away, when you hear the door to the bedroom open. You'd been so focused on the task at hand that you hadn't even heard the elevator come up.

You turn and see Aaron, who looks at you apprehensively. You feel your stomach clench at the sight of him. Setting his bag down you silently move out of the way, shifting towards the bed.

There’s a beat where he just watches you from the threshold and it is overwhelmingly tense. Then he enters, closing the door behind him silently.

Aaron proceeds to where his pile of fresh laundry sat on top of the ottoman and he starts changing, shedding his clothes. You avert your eyes, instead focusing on the pattern of the duvet cover, following the lines there instead.

Was he expecting you to speak? He'd been the one to say he needed space, and you weren't sure it was your place to be the first to speak up now. He had seemed to make it clear that he'd rather not hear what you have to say, and you can't blame him. You'd apologized and even that hadn't been quite right because you'd messed up and stated the truth.

"I'm sorry."

You look up at the sound of his voice. He's changed into his pajamas and for a second you find your eyes trailing over him entirely before you snap yourself out of it. This could be the last time you see him like this. You blink to refocus on him as he stands, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. At least he was talking to you. He doesn't seem angry really but you find yourself unable to otherwise read him.

You must look confused, because he clarifies, "I'm sorry for leaving."

You nod, standing up. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice incredibly hoarse, forcing you to clear your throat.

A large sigh leaves him as he shifts and begins to walk closer. You brace yourself. Here it comes.

"Y/N, this week - this entire week - I feel like there are so many things I don't know about you."

Suddenly all you can hear is the blood roaring in your ears, as you force yourself to nod. You have to ball your hands into fists to hide the shakiness, nails digging into your palms.

"I don't think it can go on like this."

Right - of course he's right. It couldn't. You can't expect people to be confronted by your past and all the weird, messy, ugly, scary stuff and want to stick around. Before, maybe, he'd thought of you - outside of the whole business with your father - as just that girl that works with him. Now, however, he wouldn't be able to look past everything as it confronted him too head on. So he was going to do it. He was going to end it. This was it.

You nod again, your vision blurring at the edges as you continue to stare at him. You can feel the air rush away from you and the walls feel like they're closing in.

I can't do this.

"I - I'm sorry," you manage, before quickly brushing by him and running to the bathroom, closing the door behind you, clicking the lock into place.

I can't do this.

I can't, I can't, I can't.

Your breathing becomes harsher by the second and the tears are there and your hands are shaking and it's really, really hard to think or stop. The blood was pounding in your ears and your heart was thudding loudly and you wanted it to stop. You’d give anything to make it stop. Silence. You need complete silence. How do you claw your way out of your own body to achieve it?

Your hands cup your face, feeling the tears there despite trying to stop. You can feel your nails dragging down your face, fingers trembling on the way down. Why was breathing so hard right now? You can feel your windpipe closing while simultaneously feeling bile in your throat.

On the other side of the door, Aaron's eyes had widened as you came towards him, and then quickly rushed to the bathroom. He worried for a second that you're about to be sick. However, he then hears the click of the lock behind you - that's when he starts to actually panic.

He tries knocking on the door, softly calling your name to avoid being too loud and waking anyone else. All he hears is the sound of you breathing far too heavily and he needs to get in there dammit. His knocks become more urgent the longer it goes on.

He has no idea what's going on. He'd anticipated a conversation with you - the two of you were good at that. You could talk things out. He was calmer now. He'd tried to talk and you'd been listening and then all of a sudden, he didn't know what happened.

It takes a couple more minutes for you to truly calm yourself down. You can't cry in front of Aaron. You’d promised. You can finally make out him calling your name from the other side. If you'd been trying not to freak him out, that had obviously not worked out too well.

Releasing a shaky breath, you wipe your face, splashing some cold water to hide the more obvious evidence of your little breakdown. You'd convinced yourself you could face him, but he'd surprised you. It was okay. You knew now, going in. You'd be ready. You can do it.

With a trembling hand, you unlock the door and turn the knob, nearly running straight into Aaron. He looks thoroughly agitated, as though he was minutes away from breaking down the door and you feel your heart clench. Even moments away from ending it, of course he’d still care so much. No. You will yourself to become numb to it all. Numb to him. That was the only way to make it through this. Feel. Nothing.

You take another deep breath as he backs away, allowing you room to exit the bathroom, and you close the door behind. You look up at him, immediately regretting looking into his overly concerned, warm brown eyes. Why did he have to look at you like that right now? He really needed to work on appropriately timing his concern for people.

You look away quickly. You nod at him shakily, half attempting a smile, but what even was a smile? "It's okay," you tell him, your voice nearly robotic, nodding again, unsure which one of you you're really trying to convince. "J - Just do it."

Aaron looks at you, a perplexed expression mixing with his worry as he stands incredibly close to you. Why was he standing so close?

"Do what?" he asks, reaching out towards you, his large warm hand brushing some of the hair away from your face, pushing it behind your ear.

You look at him sharply, trying hard not to lean into his touch. Something clicks in that moment as you watch him standing far too close to you. He's not moving away either. He'd just touched you. He wasn't…he didn't know what you meant when you said…

He wasn't.

But does that mean that you have to be the one to do it?

You shake your head, taking in a shallow breath as you try to wrap your brain around what was happening. Or not happening.

"I was trying to say, earlier," he starts, still looking at you apprehensively, as though he could see past your cover up job in the bathroom, "that I don't like feeling like there are a lot of things about you - about your life - that I know nothing about. While I understand th - that is something that happens over time, I just feel like there are some gaps that I would like filled."

You find yourself trying to comprehend what he'd just said, trying to rewire your brain from fight or flight mode to actually listening to him. He just wanted to…know things. He said nothing about the kiss.

"That's it?" You look up at him, certain that it could only be some sort of trick. A bait and switch. But that's not really an Aaron thing to do. So, if he was being sincere…

"I'm not thrilled about tonight,” he concedes, his lips a thin line. “But I understand how it happened. I get that John is important to you.”

You nod again. It feels like your brain is working only in slow motion because the simplest of things are taking a while to really work their way through the processing channels. He gets that John is important - he genuinely seems to believe that.

"Now I understand that filling in the gaps - that isn't an overnight thing. But over time, I would appreciate it if you could just be a little more upfront and tell me these things. Even if you think they don't matter. That they're in your past. Just tell me, please?" he asks, his eyes pleading with you.

You weren’t losing him. He wasn’t trying to end it. It didn’t feel like he was doing it merely out of obligation. So...that was good.

You find yourself nodding fervently, trying very hard not to cry. He just wanted to know things. Maybe it would be too much, maybe. But tonight had been a lot too, and he'd handled it well enough. Afterall, the two of you were standing there now. Together. That had to count for something. He said it didn't have to be immediately. You could tell him over time, everything. It was Aaron. He'd likely understand - he was good at that. Especially with you. And well, if it was too much, maybe you'd cross that bridge when you get there because at least for now, you'd have him.

It was selfish - delaying some sort of inevitable. But maybe it wasn't. You stood to lose a lot more if you didn't just take a leap of faith. Believe that he'd understand. If anyone could, it'd be him.

"Oh sweetheart, come here," he says, both of his hands reaching out towards you and wiping at the tears that had fallen regardless of any attempt on your part to keep them at bay.

"I'm sorry," you wept, letting him grab onto you and pull you closer. He was so warm. He was always so warm. He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed, sitting down with you in his lap, allowing you to calm yourself as he soothingly rubbed your back.

"I'm sorry. I promised I wouldn't cry," you mumble against his neck, tightening your hold on him.

Aaron shakes his head, reassuring you that it is alright, and takes a deep breath that you can feel in his chest. His hands, soft, warm, and pleasantly calloused rub circles on your back under your shirt. You just want to melt into him, let the wax of your being meld with his.

You can feel his breath against your skin and you can’t help but press a kiss to the side of his neck while you continue to cling to him. It’s different with Aaron because with John, you’d never actually feared losing him. With Aaron, the thought of not having him one day eats away at you, constantly.

Aaron’s still comforting you and you can’t help but feel bad about it. Today was still your fault and you want to make sure that everything is truly alright. You want to be certain that he feels good about the two of you. That’s what was most important.

"Are you sure you’re alright with everything?" you ask, moving to look at him, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over cheeks.

He nods, but you can see that there's something. Something else bothering him. Something that he seems reluctant to voice.

"It's okay, just ask. It's okay," you reassure him. It was better to just get it all out now. One fell swoop.

He worries his lip as he looks at you, as though wondering how to get it out properly. Swallowing, he asks, "Would we be together if it weren't for Jack?" He eyes you nervously, as though he’s afraid of the answer and even more afraid that he voiced the question as all.

Aaron doesn’t feel great about asking this now, but he agrees with you that it is better to get all of this out of the way so that the two of you can return to being on the same page. No matter what, he doesn’t think it will change much, but he wants to know for his own peace of mind - understand where he stands.

You still, your shoulders tensing and your brain going into hyperactive mode again. That wasn't what you'd expected at all. Did Aaron think that you were only with him because of Jack? Had you done something to make him feel that way? You know he's entirely serious about the question as he looks at you. You can see the insecurity and nervousness that had sat behind this question and you wonder how long he's felt this way. How long this has eaten away at him.

With a short sigh, you shift slightly. You want to be honest about this, because you know it's important to him. It’s important to you as well - for him to never question exactly where he stands when it comes to you.

"No," you reply. You can see him recoil almost immediately, so you're quick to continue. "But not because of what you might be thinking,” you say quickly, tightening your hold of him and forcing him to stay still. He pauses and nods, urging you to go on. “Aaron, I'm not playing house here. If I wanted a kid, there's other options. Adoption. Me not being able to have a kid - that's mostly speculation. It could still happen."

He nods, but you know that he's still focused on that No from a second ago.

"Aaron, before I joined the team, Emily had been there an entire year. How often did the two of you hang out together?"

Aaron looks at you, starting to piece together where you’re going with this. He shakes his head. They hadn't.

"Exactly,” you emphasize, cradling his face in your hands. “Because you don't do that, Aaron. You don't just let people in. I got in because Jack and I bonded first. You let me in because of Jack. You let me see you with the walls lowered - you let me see you beyond Agent Hotchner. You let me see you. That would've never happened without Jack. You keep your walls up at work so high that hardly anyone can traverse them. Jack was my ticket in. So no, if it weren’t for Jack, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be together. I would’ve always been Agent L/N to you,” you finish softly, looking into his eyes to make sure he understood.

He takes a breath, processing what you've said. You're right. He knows you are. It was silly to think you were with him just because of Jack. Jack isn’t even around and you’re wrapped up in his lap. He can’t help but feel a little stupid for even questioning it at all. However, part of him is glad he had. Even if he should’ve just known, it was good to have it confirmed nevertheless. Hearing you explain it that way made a lot of sense. Sure he was friends with the team, but he was really only good friends with Rossi. You were right - he didn’t go out of his way to have intimate relationships with his coworkers. Even now, all the parties and hangouts, he’s pretty certain you’re at the center of most of the team socialization. You’d bridged the gap between him and the rest of them.

"Anything else?" you ask somewhat teasingly, a soft smile gracing your face as you look at him fondly. He might be a bit of an idiot when it came to realizing that people loved him and cared for him with no hidden agenda, but well, he was your idiot. To think that you were with him because of Jack was laughable at best. You had Jack even before you and Aaron were together. It was about Aaron. About how his arms wrapped around you. About how he made you feel. About how simply being around him made your heart sing.

He shakes his head, a smile finally breaking out across his lips as he leans in to capture yours. It’s an affirming press of his lips to yours as he holds you to him as closely as possible. It feels like coming home.

Maneuvering the both of you around, he places you next to him on the bed, pulling the blanket around both of you. You curl into his side and he can feel your fingers run lightly against his stomach as you’re pressed against the length of him. He reaches for your hand, lifting it up and looking at you disapprovingly as he notes the indentations in your palm. You hide your face from him a bit as he brushes over the marks lightly with the pad of his thumb.

Something prickles at the back of Aaron's head as you snuggle into him. Something John had said to him at the bar. The way you'd responded to him taking space, how you'd planned to not cry in front of him, instead you'd done laundry and evidently cleaned. It was telling. You'd obviously planned out a contingency plan. An exit route for yourself. It was something that was most often seen in people who… The actual realization hits him - what John had meant when he said he'd almost lost you.

He looks down at your peaceful face, burrowed into him, your legs entangled with his as much as humanly possible. His breathing must've changed, because you look up at him curiously.

He shakes his head, trying to smile so as to not worry you. He couldn’t quite believe it and he definitely wasn’t sure he’d arrived at exactly the right conclusion. But he wants you to know…just in case. "My world wouldn't be the same without you in it,” he breathes out, looking at you with immense care and love, so that you know. So that you know that it won’t be easy on him if you weren’t around. So that you can’t rationalize away your absence. Because it would be felt. It would be felt harrowingly.

You smile at his words, entirely unaware of the intention behind them, reaching up and quickly pressing a kiss to his lips. He can feel your smile in your gesture.

Burrowing back into the warmth of the blanket, a soft laugh and eyeroll escape you and he looks down curiously. "Penelope was wrong," you shared, your words slightly muffled against his chest. "You're totally a Hufflepuff."

Aaron looks at you, his face marred with confusion. “What the hell is a Hufflepuff?" he groans, rolling over so he can face you and hold you tucked into him.

The only response he gets is a peal of laughter, reverberating through his ribs and the warm press of your lips to his chest.

*------------*

David Rossi woke up early the next morning. Clubbing and drinking till late at night was for children. He wasn't quite so young anymore, and instead of nursing a hangover, his body decided to be wide awake at an inhumane hour.

He gets dressed, and instead of trying to finagle your complicated coffee machine, he heads down to grab one from one of the street carts.

He's paying the man for the coffee, when his eye is caught by a photo in one of the papers. He leans in close, just to make sure he's not seeing things. But no, he wasn't.

There you were and there Aaron was, dipping you down, his mouth latched onto yours.

He laughs and looks back at the man, holding up the paper in his hand. "However many copies you have of this, I want them. I want them all."

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #irreverentseries #hotch x you #hotch x reader

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indianamoonshine · 3 years

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chapter iii | knightly behavior

summary: every summer you work on your father’s strawberry farm with your three sisters. it’s a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. this year, your father’s old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. din djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become…well, let’s fact it…smitten.

rating: (18+) for future and explicit sexual content.

author’s note: reader is well over eighteen for obvious reasons. i won’t ever go into physical detail about the reader’s appearance because we include everyone. this fic is pretty much a mix between pride & prejudice and call me by your name except without the und*rage crap we do not condone.

You looked upon him in a way that no one had ever looked upon him before.

And it was strange, he thought, because the two of you had been introduced not even twenty-four hours prior. But in your eyes was a subtle enchantment that made Din forget the misfortunes that brought him to the farm in the first place.

You smile politely at him, albeit a bit drunkenly, as he mends your wound. Your foot is propped against his thigh as you sit prettily upon the bathroom counter. Your eyes shine, cheeks rosy with alcohol and adrenaline. The thorn had been removed, but the cut still bled enough to upset Din. When you flinch at the peroxide, he himself grimaces as though he can empathize with your pain.

“I’m surprised I felt it at all,” you say to him as though you’re sheepish from the fall. “With all the vodka and whatnot.”

Din meets your gaze and catches himself staring at your petal-like lips. He forces himself to look away, as much as it burned, but he was far too concerned with your feelings at the gesture.

there was no way you could look at a man such as him the way he looked at you.

Din places a Band-Aid on your foot, sealing it gently, and inspects it once more. “This is a tender part of the body,” he says. He finds himself squeezing you gently in a show of affection he had not expected. He swallows before adding, “-I would be concerned if you didn’t.”

A flash of mischief crosses your face before you tease. “Are you a doctor, Mister Djarin?”

He finds himself chuckling lowly at the question. His answer was quite the opposite, but you needn’t know the true nature of his lot in life. If possible, he’d avoid being transparent in that regard for as long as fate allowed.

“No,” Din finds himself saying. “And you can call me Din.”

A bold choice, but when you embrace with a gentle smile. “My father always told me to refer to my elders with their respective titles.”

You were funny. Witty. Charming to the last. Din found himself growing more fond of you with each passing moment; even in your disheveled state did he think you beautiful.

He mustn’t become attached. You could very easily become ammunition if he weren’t careful. In his pursuit of sound welfare, you had almost become something of a villain; you were making it increasingly difficult to focus on protecting his own interests. In just a few hours, Din felt an unwarranted dedication to you.

He wasn’t comfortable with it.

But he didn’t know how to stop it.

Those of Mandalorian creed did not devote themselves to anyone outside of the order. They hunt and they seek – they survive. And to be senselessly bewitched by someone of such (what he would’ve once considered) little importance was preposterous.

Nonsensical.

Din hadn’t ever been irrational before. Everything was calculated.

Not anymore.

Din tries not to grin, but he can’t bear it. His body is traitorous. “Funny,” he quips. He releases your foot.

You remain silent for a moment, formulating thoughts of whatever it was celestial beings like you did in quietude.

“How did you and my father meet?” you ask after what felt like eons of stillness. “He hasn’t told us very much.”

Din starts to clean up the medical supplies – bits of paper from the Band-Aid and the hydrogen peroxide he had so carefully dabbed upon your skin.

He falters for a moment. While what he was about to say was the truth, it felt dirty. There was more to your father’s past than what you’d have believed and Din knew it wasn’t his place to expose any of it; he would have tread carefully.

“We met when we were teenagers,” he replies.

You let out a messy giggle – like it caught even yourself off guard. You place a hand against your mouth as though to cover the goofy smile. “So when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, then.”

The age-gap hadn’t been lost on Din.

He opens the cabinet very carefully to avoid bumping your head with it. The bathroom was in older shape compared to the rest of the house, so it came as no surprise when the mirror rattled loudly as it opened.

“I was the one who carried you to safety, remember?” Din meets your eyes, hoping you’d find the humor in them.

You do.

“Yes,” you boff. The twitter that escapes your mouth causes his heart to jump to his throat. “And now you’re mending me after a vicious rose bush attack.”

He cracks a grin, though slyly to avoid sharing any bemusement due to your jesting lip. He couldn’t help it; your devilment was far too pleasant to make him scornful.

“Thank you,” you add meekly, but you’re smiling and it’s more than enough gratitude he required.

He wishes to see you smile all the time.

Din’s placed both hands against the counter, consciously ignorant of the space between the two of you. He meant no harm by it – was simply leaning against the sturdiness of the tile. But as you watch him, there was a sense of longing Din hadn’t beheld in quite some time. He tries to avoid it – whatever it may be – by tearing his gaze away from yours and pushing himself off with a casual grunt.

You blink when he separates himself from you, eyes fluttering a bit carelessly, and expression computing back to its neutralness. He does the same, brows raising in panic at the sensation.

“We met while I was camping in Michigan – the UP.” He scratches the back of his head and leans against the wall with arms crossed.

Anything to look complacent.

He finds himself engrossed by the way your ankles cross over one another and how your legs swing. Your dress had threatened to expose the more fragile parts of you, but you were of sound enough mind to eschew that from happening. Had that occurred, Din would’ve punished himself for looking. He wasn’t a religious man by any means, but what was that verse in the Christian bible again? “And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire.”

Faith didn’t belong in his repertoire, but that particular verse was commonsensical enough to recite.

Over and over again, apparently.

“So you’re from around here then?” you inquire.

“You know that people can visit the Midwest, right?” he remarks.

He was certain you’d simper mockingly – and sure enough, you do. “You’re very bratty for an old man.”

Din takes pride in guessing your responses; it must mean something.

Before he returns, he allows himself to laugh. It’s not full-bodied, but it’s some of the most genuine laughter he’s been able to conjure in quite some time.

“I’m from Chile,” he answers, perfectly amused by your bantering. “I moved here when I was a child.”

He watches as your fingers tap against the tile of the counter. They were well manicured, but cut short, and he guessed that was because you worked with your hands. He respected that – admired it. You clearly come from humble background and trialing youth.

Din could relate to that.

And yet you’re still soft, kind – gracious in your endeavors. And he was not. He was clinical, meticulous in the frayed edges of an odyssey he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue anymore. The two of you were snow and flame, and the old wife’s tale certainly wasn’t true. Opposites don’t attract. Opposites – the grunting, savage neanderthal of the two – are attracted. Someone ripened with softness such as yourself would surely never take rapture in a Neolithic man.

He could dream, of course. And he will.

“That’s very impressive,” you hum, chin raised in speculation.

Din furrows his brows, arms linking themselves around his frame tighter than before. It brought himself a semblance of comfort. For almost all his life, Din was the hunter and never the prey. He was large, foreboding enough to exude the kind of energy the average man could only theorize about, and yet here he stood…before you…

Feeling like the bounty he sought.

“Interesting to have been born in Chile?” he taunts.

Your brows crinkle, nose wiggling a bit to avoid showing your doubtful speculation. It wasn’t a look of disgust – Din was convinced you could never find fault in anyone. Maybe not even him. He hoped for this, anyway.

“No,” you reply. “To be able to keep that information from everyone.”

He shrugs, right brow arching in a show of faux derision. “Who said I was keeping it?” he all but drawled.

Something in his tone must’ve engaged your interest. Maybe you could see right through him; Din couldn’t find himself dumbfounded by the idea. You were smart enough to content with in a war of wit.

He notices how you head tilts in measured consideration. “You’re a very interesting man, Mister Djarin,” you whisper.

A heat flushes him from head to boot. He tears his fixation from the way your eyes swallow him whole – like a boa constrictor might do to a mouse. But he feels no fear for his safety – just his survival.

Because you were going to make this very difficult for him.

|||

TAG LIST: @dancingwiththeplanets, @ficthots, @t3a-bag, @dodgerandevans & there was one more person BUT I ACCIDENTALLY ERASED THEIR MESSAGE I’M SO SORRY TO WHOEVER YOU WERE PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

#SORRY #strawberryfic #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mandolorian x reader #din x reader

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biussworld · 4 years

Text

Safe and Sound

Requested by: @riarora

“So I was thinking platonic LOV x child reader (You can make them 18 if you're more comfortable, but I was thinking more like 14-15) The reader (I'll refer to them as she/her, but you can make it gender neutral) has really bad insomnia so every night, she would be pacing around, doing anything and everything to make sure no dark thoughts take over. Usually, none of the LOV would bat an eye, but considering the fact that she's a child, they feel sympathy, so they indirectly try to get her to fall asleep. Like, sending her on extra missions (always with protection of course) or changing her normal tea with sleeping tea, or maybe just straight up telling her to sleep. Could you make it a fic too?“

Sorry if it took long! Here it isss~ I tried my best to write insomnia and stuff, but I didn’t want to misinterpret it ;(( I hope you like it!

Relationships: Platonic League of Villains x Gender-neutral!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: anxiety triggers, vague descriptions of anxiety attacks

Word Count: 1.4k

The moon's high up in the sky and looming over Japan as you lie wide awake on the thin and ragged futon laid on the floor. The walls of your current base are cold and mold-smelling which adds to the reasons why you couldn't sleep. You count the handful of bullet points you've crossed off your to-do list for the day: tracked the new equipment delivery, took down the sole witness of you and the League's traipsing from one hideout to another, stole some snacks from an old man's convenience store- yep. Just another day for you.

You did receive good remarks from the team after you've proudly reported to them at the end of your mission, but Shigaraki's words clung onto you: "I'm just glad you didn't mess up."

Sure, you are, too. Until you were reminded of one moment where you've landed a step louder than the previous ones and almost blew your cover, or when you almost forgot to clean up your mess after dispatching the witness. Your mind sidetracked to what could've happened if all of those did happen, and it didn't help that you knew how their powers work. Shigaraki would probably reduce your limbs to ashes, or let Dabi cremate you alive, or confine you in one of Mr. Compress' marbles. All of it made you sick in the stomach and you had to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the sudden belching sound that came out of you.

Your head started throbbing and your vision spun slightly as you sat up. You stayed hunched over yourself for a bit, eventually standing on your feet and lightly treading towards the little 'kitchen' set up by Kurogiri to grab yourself a glass of water. Except Dabi was already there to hand it to you. "You look awful." He greets. "Thanks. Not as much as you do."

The small exchange between you two incited a chuckle from him. He takes a sip from his cup, and you wonder, "Why do you have an extra glass of water?" He puts his down and says, "I know you get up at midnight to drown yourself in glasses of it so I figured I'd help you out." You nod absent-mindedly and at the back of your mind you think to yourself, maybe you weren't too careful or were too loud the past few nights. As you start lecturing yourself in your head, he notices you space out and ever-so-slightly flicks your forehead. "Don't know why you can't sleep, but just close your eyes and it'll happen eventually."

After all of that, he leaves the makeshift kitchen and sprawls himself onto his space, leaving you squinting at him.

You believe there's nothing particularly special with his words granted that his upbringing didn't really teach him to be friendly towards kids your age, but you'd be stupid to admit it didn't help ease you even just a teensy bit.

---

The next day drew quick and everyone's fast asleep in their corners. As always, you're left to wallow in the corners of solitude, mind racing with destructive thoughts that keep you very much awake. You make your way toward the kitchenette. You find a few used tea bags and teacups lying on the countertop, and figured Compress might have been awake just like you. Still, you reached for a tall glass and filled it with water to the brim, then exited the room to sit in the chilly air outside.

As you approach, you hear two- three voices speaking just outside. Hushed, but audible enough to discern who's who. Toga and...

"Twice?" You meekly croak as you stare at both of them, head tilted in wonder. Toga struts to you and tugs you by your wrist, carrying your glass of water for you in her other hand. "We've been waiting for you! Come sit with us~" She makes you sit on a wooden box beside Twice, then said man hands you a teacup filled with nice-smelling liquid. It must've been them in the kitchen, you thought. You set your glass down, take the cup and sip.

"Why are you two up so late at night?" You ask in between sips. Twice replies with a passive-aggressive statement along the lines of "We were worried you weren't getting enough sleep" and blaming Dabi. Huh, I guess he told them.

You smile at the thought of the intimidating man caring for you, and Toga flashes you her signature toothy grin back while she proceeds to tell you about her day as if it were any different from yours.

You were pretty sure she was loud enough to wake the others up, but the overflowing energy she radiates that much late at night couldn't bring you to shut her up. Besides, you've got Twice doing that work for you.

The conversation ended when you yawned quite hideously for the fourth time that night, Twice took your hand and led you to your bed that he had tidied up before tucking you in. He pats you on the head gently as your eyes flutter close.

---

It's been three weeks since then and during the time that had passed, it was always Toga and Twice that put you to bed. However for tonight, since Toga and Twice are away on a mission given to them by Shigaraki, you're left on your own.

You'd be lying if you said the midnight tea times you and the duo shared didn't give you a false sense of security, and that you hadn't clung onto it as soon as it dawned on you. Your mind drifted to Toga's face and her various comical expressions when she tells you her stories, or Twice's fatherly hands as he puts you to bed. It's been those two that took care of you and you've grown visually more attached to them, even familiarized yourself with their scent and warmth.

What if they get hurt badly? No. They won't.

But they said the mission was a little dangerous- They'll make it out alive. They're amazing!

Again, you find yourself in a downward spiral as your thoughts pull you into the void. Your mind's filled with what-ifs and buts that you don't notice your feet dragging yourself to someone else's room. You're caught in a mindless haze, your breath's starting to feel stuffy and your body feels sweaty and shit- no, it can't happen tonight. I have to be fine until Toga and Twice comes back.

Unless they don't-

"Hey, you're up." Shigaraki's voice snaps you out of it. He's standing in front of you, without the derpy-looking hand thing covering his face and he shows no emotion until you look at his eyes. His eyes meet yours and you see the worry, the sadness, the tender-loving brotherly look that he rarely sports. "Kurogiri, go make her some tea." He says after carefully taking your hand.

He sits on his makeshift bed, motions for you to sit and you oblige. He pulls you to him, resting your head on his chest and he pats your back softly. His movements are awkward and calculated to not destroy you with his quirk but he's trying, and you appreciate it and flash him a soft smile.

Not long after, Kurogiri comes back with a cup of the same nice-smelling tea you've been drinking with Twice and Toga. You remember the first time they’ve given you the drink, and how Dabi was the one who told them to do such a thing. They were precious, and your big brother and big sister for the time you were lost and insecure about your capabilities. For some out-of-this-world reason, you start bawling your eyes out on Shigaraki's shirt. He calls you out for staining his shirt, but his actions speak otherwise as he continues to pat you on the back. Kurogiri takes your hands, places the cup in them and gently rubs your forearm to console you. "They'll be fine, kid. We'll make sure of it."

“I feel like we haven’t told you this, but you’re doing well. Even Shigaraki says so.”

“Just don’t wanna inflate that pretty little head of yours or you might expect too much from us everytime.”

Shigaraki and Kurogiri's efforts of comforting you went deep into the night. Shigaraki wasn't sure if it was worth it, but when you've finally finished your cup of tea, relaxed and started snoring softly in his arms, he felt as if tons and tons of weights were lifted from his shoulders.

Somewhere in the midst of your slumber you’re reminded that everything’s going to be okay. You don’t know if it’s Shigaraki’s scent or the roughness of his fingertips on your scalp, but it tells you that you’re right here, safe and sound.

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brilliantt · 4 years

Text

Gangster in Distress

Summary: Tommy was only interested in Y/N to seal a deal with her father. He thought she was a spoilt, rich girl... until a mishap with some thieves makes Tommy reconsider.

A/N: I just rewatched the movie Ever After with Drew Barrymore and let’s just say it heavily inspired this fic....

It was often that Tommy would sacrifice his own family to ensure a deal or stop a war. A key example being when he convinced John to marry Esme, preventing a battle with the Lee family. Tommy was rather good at pushing his family to the forefront of his problems. Now though? Now it was Tommy’s turn.

Tommy desired to extend his gin business through London and beyond. The only issue being a Mr Walter Brown. Mr Brown ran an immensely successful distillery in the heart of London and Tommy knew striking a deal with him was his only route to a new found fortune. He had met with the man once at his home, the house exceeding even Tommy’s manor. They had spent a long time coming to a suitable deal. The man had no need for money nor protection, although Tommy tried to persuade him. It was a lost cause; the man’s fine suit and multiple men lingering by the door could have told him that. There was nothing the Peaky Blinders could offer him that he didn't already have, Tommy still persisted.

The meeting had lasted three hours before Tommy watched the man stand up and glance out the window behind him, the view obscured from Tommy. Mr Brown rubbed his white moustache and sighed, resting his gaze back on Tommy. He explained to him that he had a daughter who he wished to see married, and to a financially secure man. Of course Arthur and John were out of the question and Finn was too young for the woman. This left Tommy to take the bullet. It certainly felt like a bullet when the daughter had slammed the door, storming out of her father’s study just after she was told the news. Perhaps it would be for the best, he would have some company and Charlie a mother figure. Not forgetting their union would make Tommy very rich.

The deal was settled and they would be married the next month, giving Y/N and Tommy some time to get to know each other. He made frequent trips to London to become acquainted with his bride-to-be, the two of them left alone in one of the parlour rooms. The first few times she had sat like a petulant child, ignoring his attempt at conversation, and not being afraid to tell him what she thought of the arrangement. Her expensive gowns and shiny jewellery reminding him of the two different worlds they came from. It was on the fourth visit when he became impatient and decided to move their relationship forward and to try and seduce her. His hands on her waist and wandering lips warranted a red cheek and a view of Y/N’s back as she huffed out of the room.

The next time he came, he made sure to bring Charlie. She would have to meet him eventually and he could only hope she wouldn’t bring up his actions with a child in the same room. It was fair to say she much preferred the boy’s company, immediately grinning Charlie and bringing out a story book to share with him. It was this moment where Tommy couldn’t completely resent the arrangement. Charlie liking her was more important than him liking her. And after Y/N had taken him to the stables to meet her horses, Charlie would barely release the woman. It was there where Tommy had attempted to apologise for his behaviour the previous visit (not really because he was sorry, but more to remain on good terms with her father). It was also here that when Y/N had distracted Charlie with her most beautiful mare, told Tommy if he tried anything again she wasn’t afraid to use the hunting gun and shoot it at his unmentionables.

---

The wedding hadn’t been anything special to Tommy. He had already had his dream wedding with Grace and Y/N had refused to have a big attendance, although this didn't stop her from wearing a very extravagant dress. The ceremony was limited to only Y/N’s father, Charlie and Aunt Polly. Polly had returned to Birmingham the same afternoon, after their lunch, with Charlie. Mr Brown had retired to his room which left the newly weds alone. Except their anticipated wedding night consisted of Y/N leading Tommy to a guest room and shutting herself into her bedroom.

Tommy spent the next few days, finalising some business and plans with his new father-in-law, while Y/N was busy packing her bags to move into Tommy’s manor with him and Charlie.

The rain was heavy on the day they were to drive back. Despite still being angry at her father, she gave him a tight hug before rushing into the vehicle, out of the rain. It was a long car journey back to Birmingham and Y/N had taken to sulking with her arms crossed, staring out of the window for the first hour.

Tommy sighed and pursed his lips, “We should at least try to be civil, you know.” By the look on Y/N’s face, he knew his words would cause them to argue. He didn't care though, arguing would be better than sitting in silence for the rest of the trip. He also couldn’t take another minute of watching the woman fidget in her seat, he knew she was itching to speak.

Y/N kept her gaze out of the window, “You and my father dealt me off like i’m a fucking horse. I don’t have to be nice to you.”

Tommy clenched his jaw, feeling desperate for a cigarette. ”Your father wanted what was best for you.” He heard Y/N let out an amused huff.

“Oh and you’re my knight in shining armour? Lucky me.” Tommy turned to look at her before focusing back on the road. He chose not to say anything, “I don't even see why I had to marry in the first place. I was fine staying with my father.’”

This time Tommy felt amused, “Hmm and doing what exactly? Perching on your little pedestal and looking pretty?" He hid his smirk when Y/N turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. He quite liked riling her up.

“I’m not just some spoiled little girl, so stop treating me like one.” She crossed her arms again and huffed.

“If you didn’t act like one, perhaps I wouldn’t treat you like one.” Tommy retorted.

"Your perception of women is abhorrent. Just because I'm pretty and like to dress nicely, does not mean you can belittle me. And if you continue to do so, we are going to have problems." Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you ought to tread carefully, you are looking at the future owner of the Brown distillery. My father may have made a deal with you that doesn't mean i can't change it when i'm in charge."

Tommy felt a smile growing on his face, "You would deny your own husband?" It widened when all Y/N did was smirk at him. The silence grew again before Tommy asked, "You think you can handle running the business?"

Y/N smoothed down her hair that had gone fluffy from the rain, "You may think i just sit around, but I am very much involved in the distillery. I'm more than capable of running the business."

Tommy quickly glanced at her again, finding a sense of respect he didn't expect to feel.

When Tommy didn’t reply, Y/N scrunched her nose up, "I do hope you're not a husband who will deny me of such a job.” Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Good, because I wouldn't have listened anyway."

"And what shouldn't a husband deny you of?" Tommy questioned in a teasing tone.

"Hmm,” Y/N grinned. “A good husband should let me do exactly as I please. He will let me work, go to the market, run through the garden without shoes, gallop through the field on a horse, or do absolutely nothing all day."

"And, what about a good wife?"

Y/N stroked her chin in thought and looked at Tommy "Well, I guess that's for you to decide."

Tommy didn’t answer her. "You like horses?" He said a few moments later.

"Love.” Y/N smiled and looked out the window dreamily, the rain still hitting the window. “I grew up with my grandparents in the countryside, they were from my mum's side, who, well, were not rich like my dad’s. We spent all our time on the farm and from the moment I first laid my eyes on the beautiful horses, that was it."

Tommy smirked, "So the city girl is actually a farm girl?" Y/N’s response was a roll of the eyes. "The horses you showed Charlie were incredible." His words seemed to divert Y/N back into her bratty state, she crossed her arms again and glared at the man, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I had to leave them behind."

Before Tommy could respond, the car jolted. He lost control for a moment before managing to stop the car. Trees surrounded the pair and Tommy recognised the road built through the forest. He wasted no time to jump out and check each wheel, finding the problem on Y/N’s side, a small hole visible. Y/N rolled down the window, "What happened?”

"The tyres burst, I must have hit a stone or something." He stood back up wiping down his suit. "Come on." He opened the door to her side and gestured for her to get out.

"What?"

"The house isn't far from here, we can go by foot." Y/N looked at him in shock.

"It's raining and muddy!" She made a motion to her dress, to which Tommy rolled his eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out, dragging her to the boot of the car. He pulled out one of the smaller luggage bags and pushed it in her arms before looking at her pointedly, "You said you grew up on a farm."

"Past tense, Thomas!" She huffed and re-positioned the bag, watching Tommy grab the two larger ones. He led them around the car and they walked barely a metre before a man with shoulder length grey hair came out of the trees pointing a gun at the two. "Don't be leaving so quick now." He let out a whistle and more men came from the trees, all with guns. Y/N gulped and raised her hands in the air, subsequently dropping her bag, the contents spilling over the floor. She heard Tommy curse and watched him put the luggage down more carefully than her.

"Y/N go back in the car." Not having to be told twice she rushed back to the passenger side. Feeling nervous when the men advanced on Tommy, a fist fight, four on one beginning.

Before she could open the door, one of the men had grabbed her, making her yelp and shove him to the ground. She tried to hit the next man who made a grab for her but he caught her arm and held it behind her back. It took three men to stop her struggling, pulling her to where their leader stood. They held her there, Tommy a few metres opposite her being held in a similar position, a cut on his forehead and a bruised eye. The two watched as the thieves began rifling through Tommy’s car and her luggage on the floor.

One of them held up a rather beautiful, expensive looking dress adorned in jewels. “Excuse me!” Y/N spat, missing Tommy closing his eyes in annoyance. ”That was my mother’s dress, you give that back!” She felt the men tighten their hold on her. The leader smirked and stalked over to her. He lifted one of his ring covered hands and caressed her cheek. "Feisty little thing.” He whispered.

Tommy began struggling, "Let her go.” He demanded, voice strong but eyes tired. “Your fight is against me not her." Y/N could only then see that the two men knew each other. The man removed his hand and walked closer to Tommy. He relented and told the men to release her.

Y/N pushed her way out of their arms, shivering from the rain and annoyed at the mud tracing up her skirts. She raised her chin to the leader, "I demand that you give me back all of my things. And since you shot through one of the tyres and have my driver captured, a horse for the journey back." All of the men’s eyes widened at her order. The leader titled his head, and grinned sarcastically.

“Princess,” He spread his arms out in front of him, ”You may have anything you can carry." His men chuckled around them. Y/N raised her eyebrows, a devious look in her eyes as she glanced at Tommy, who was staring at her in disbelief.

“Do I have your word on that, Sir? She asked.

The man bowed his head, “On my honour as a Gypsy.”

Y/N nodded once. She walked past the Gypsy, staring at him as she passed. Walking straight over her clothes on the floor, Y/N made her way to Tommy, the men who were holding him backing away. She lifted his arm up and bent down, huffing as she lifted her husband across her back. The Gypsy man opened his mouth in shock, watching as Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile and a slight curtsy before making her way down the road, holding Tommy on her back.

A ruckus of laughter erupted from the group of men at the sight. Even the leader couldn't help but laugh loudly at the daring girl. "Come back!” He paused, chuckling, “You may have a horse."

Y/N sat in front of Tommy on the horse as they rode to the manor. He knew that this reckless but incredibly clever woman would cause him a great deal of trouble, he just couldn’t bring himself to resent it anymore.

I can just imagine Y/N telling John this story and Tommy having to kick him out because of all the teasing...

#tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby one shot #peaky blinders one shot

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sleepless-in-starbucks · 4 years

Text

How We Break and How We Mend

Summary: Logan had only ever had one wish since he first fell in love: to not be in love anymore. Soon enough, he realizes there are better things to wish for. Content: Abusive ex, (talk of) the consequences of mental/emotional abuse, mention of a cut (consequence of physical abuse), dub-con kissing, general worry and concern, happy ending Pairing: Losleep

Since middle school, Logan had only ever had one wish: to stop being in love with Remy Crescent. At first, it had been because he was simply out of Logan’s league- he was popular, Logan was not. And then it had been because they were friends, because as much as Logan loved Remy he would never risk destroying anything that made him happy… and their friendship made Remy happy. Then it had been because Remy was in love with someone else, and damn did unrequited pining feel like shit.

But he wasn’t wishing for it now. No, right now he was wishing for something very different- the instantaneous removal of Remy’s (now ex-) boyfriend from existence.

They were sitting on Logan’s couch- Logan’s couch because Remy didn’t have a couch anymore, Logan’s couch because Remy didn’t have anywhere else to go anymore, Logan’s couch because Remy had finally- finally- left his ex. Sitting on Logan’s couch because it was as good a spot as any for Logan to patch up the cut on Remy’s cheek from where the son-of-a-bitch had hit him.

Logan hadn’t liked Remy’s boyfriend from the start. There had always been something wrong about him. But he had ended up putting it off- it was likely just him being envious, feeling as if he wasn’t good for Remy because Logan was the only one good for Remy. So he had put his personal feelings aside and focused on recognizing that Remy’s boyfriend wasn’t inherently bad just because he wasn’t Logan.

And that worked, at first, a few weeks going by during which Logan was only slightly uneasy by Remy’s boyfriend. He seemed to be a good person, a little quick to anger and in need of a better sense of humor, but overall fine. And Remy seemed happy with him, so Logan was happy.

But then Logan started to notice other things. How Remy acted restrained around him. How Remy started to act restrained even when he wasn’t around. How Remy would apologize for things he didn’t need to apologize for, how he would act around Logan as if he were treading on ice, how he’d flinch at loud noises and how his humor became much more self-deprecating than it ever had been before.

Quickly (and yet not nearly quickly enough), Logan realized what was happening. Remy was in an abusive relationship. Not physically abusive, no, but certainly mentally and emotionally.

Logan had tried to get him out of it, of course. But some things were easier said than done. By the time Logan knew what was going on, Remy was caught up in the lies and the abuse. Nothing Logan said could convince him how bad his boyfriend was for him. So Logan was left waiting, waiting for something to break, for the perfect chance to finally get Remy out.

But he never wanted it to happen like this.

“I’m an idiot.” Remy had been muttering that to himself for a minute, over and over as he dug his nails into his legs. “A complete moron. No wonder he went after me, I was the perfect mark, no fucking common sense whatsoever-”

“Don’t say that.” Logan reprimanded as softly as he could. Remy’s ex had already ordered him around enough, Logan didn’t want to be doing it either, but he couldn’t let Remy keep mumbling self-hate. Carefully, Logan patted down the edges of the bandage he had secured over Remy’s cut. “You aren’t stupid, Remy. He manipulated you. Anyone could have been his victim.”

“But it wasn’t anyone, was it?” Remy spat, flinching and drawing in on himself almost immediately after he spoke. “I- I’m sorry, Lo, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t.” Logan assured him, putting the first aid kit aside before turning his full attention back to Remy. “You are distressed and have just come out of an abusive relationship. I’m not going to hold anything you say against you.”

Remy chuckled bitterly. “You should.”

“No, I shouldn’t.” Logan responded, taking one of Remy’s hands in his own. He squeezed it gently, hoping the pressure would be comforting and grounding. “You are emotionally unstable for perfectly valid reasons. Your words should not and will not be held against you, not by me.”

“...Thanks.” Remy said, letting out a small sigh and deflating a bit. He squeezed Logan’s hand back as well, which gave Logan some hope. “So… what now?”

“Now, you rest and recover.” Logan said. “Tonight, you will sleep, or at least attempt to. You can stay here as long as you need to, and I will do my best to help you identify and address- to the best of your ability- taught negative behaviours. In a week, I will call my uncle, who is a therapist, and get a session arranged for you.”

“A therapist?” Remy repeated, sounding skeptical. “That seems a little extreme for a break-up, don’t you think?”

Logan held Remy’s hand just the slightest bit tighter. “You have been in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship for nearly nine months.” Logan stated, trying to keep his voice measured and not filled with fury. All his anger was directed at Remy’s ex, but that didn’t mean Remy would interpret it that way. “This is more than just a break-up, and it is logical that you seek professional help to properly work through the consequences of that relationship.”

“...Okay.” Remy said, voice resigned in a way Logan despised. “I trust you, Logan.” And Logan hated that too. The words sounded too forced, the line too rehearsed. Maybe Remy did trust him, but that wasn’t what his words meant. They were a defense against Logan lashing out if he didn’t agree. And even though Logan had expected it, he still hated that Remy’s ex didn’t need to be around to hurt him.

But those weren’t things he could address right then. Remy needed to rest, to let the final strains of fresh adrenaline and fear run out of his system.

“You should get some sleep.” Logan told him, beginning to stand up. “I’ll fetch you some blankets, and you can sleep on the couch-”

Remy’s grip on Logan’s hand tightened just the slightest as Logan tried to pull away. “Please don’t go.”

“It’ll just be for a moment.” Logan assured Remy, even as he once more took his seat in front of Remy. “I’ll be back, Remy, I promise.”

“I know, I just-” Remy shook his head, letting out a huff. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.” Logan replied immediately. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Remy looked down, not speaking for a moment but not letting go of Logan either before speaking up again. “You’re so smart, Lo.”

“I- what?”

“I said you’re smart. Because you are, you really are.” Remy said, looking up again. “And helpful. Even to people who don’t deserve your help.”

“Remy, I don’t-”

“And pretty.” Remy continued, ignoring Logan as he leaned forwards, free hand coming to rest on Logan’s cheek. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, hun.”

And before Logan could say another word, Remy was kissing him.

For a millisecond, Logan froze. Some small part of his brain was cheering in victory- he was kissing Remy, after all, his dream since seventh grade. Wasn’t it something to be celebrated?

But Logan knew it wasn’t. He knew that this wasn’t love, that this wasn’t anything good, anything to be excited over. And for all he had thought about kissing Remy before, Remy’s happiness and well-being had always been his priority.

So just as soon as the kiss started, it was over, Logan pushing Remy off of him even as he held the other man’s shoulders and kept him from trying to kiss him again. “Remy, no.”

“Logan-”

“No, Remy. You can’t do this. I can’t let you do this.”

“I love you.” Remy said, and Logan hated that there were tears in the corner of his eyes, already threatening to spill. Logan wasn’t sure if Remy believed what he was saying, but he wanted to. He needed to.

“No, you don’t.” Logan replied, ignoring the pain in his metaphorical heart at the words. “You’ve been manipulated into believing you are lesser than other people and that, therefore, to be worth anything you must be worth something to someone else. Your ex tricked you into believing that someone else was him, and now that he’s gone you’re simply trying to fill the gap. Even if- even if you did love me, nothing we could have would be healthy.”

“But I trust you, Lo.” Remy pleaded, grabbing Logan’s other hand so that he could hold both of them, squeezing them. “I trust you not to hurt me.”

“And I would never.” Logan agreed. “But that doesn’t change the facts. You’re… you’re looking for someone to make you whole, Remy, and that’s not what love is, even if that’s what your ex tried to convince you it was. You need to heal, and trying to convince yourself that you’re in love with me won’t give you that.”

Remy broke then, letting out a single sob before he collapsed against Logan, crying into his shoulder and holding him close like he might disappear if Remy let go. Logan held back, rubbing circles into Remy’s back, focused on letting him cry before calming him back down. He needed it, after all.

And if a tear or two slipped down Logan’s face too, well, it wasn’t like any one was going to notice.

“Logan? Come on, babe, I know you’re home. Don’t leave a pretty man waiting!”

Logan sighed as he placed down his book, but the sound was only fond. For Remy, it would never be anything else. He stood up, walked to the door and opened it.

It had been almost two years since Remy had broken up with his abusive ex, and the difference was clear. Remy was smiling happily, sunglasses pushed up on the top of his head to reveal bright eyes with minimal bags beneath them. The leather jacket Logan had bought him to replace the one his ex had given away (without Remy’s permission) was slung over his shoulder, and everything about Remy’s pose figuratively screamed relaxed and carefree.

“Can I come in?” Remy asked, brushing by Logan even as he spoke. Logan could do little more than laugh at the action as he closed the door. Most people would have seen it as annoying. Logan saw it as another reminder than Remy had his confidence back and that he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“I suppose even if I say ‘no’ you’re not going to leave, are you?” Logan teased as he turned to face Remy.

“Nope! Because I’d know you were lying.” Remy said, turning from where he had been taking in Logan’s living room (a sight he had seen many a time before) to face Logan, grinning. “I’m always welcome here, remember?”

“I’d never forget.” Logan promised. “Though you don’t tend to swing by with no reason- looking for someone to annoy?”

Remy laughed at the joke, but the sound was hesitant, and Logan stiffened. Though Remy in general was alright with teasing jokes, Logan knew there were still times when he couldn’t take them- times when he couldn’t remember that Logan’s words weren’t serious.

Logan approached Remy, taking both of Remy’s hands into his own, lightly squeezing them. Over time, it had remained the most efficient way to ground Remy. “I’m sorry, Rem, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Hey, darling, don’t worry about it.” Remy responded, squeezing back and smiling softly at Logan. “You didn’t upset me, don’t worry. I just… I’m here to ask you something.”

“You know you can always ask me anything.” Logan reminded him.

“I know, but… doesn’t always make it easy, heh.” Remy said, letting out a small chuckle as he looked away. When he stayed that way for a moment, Logan gently tightened his hold on Remy’s hands, pulling his attention back to Logan.

“It’s okay.” Logan assured him, offering him a matching soft smile. “Whatever you need to ask me, it’s okay. I will not judge you in any way.”

Remy nodded at Logan’s words, taking a moment to take a breath and collect himself before he said, “Logan… will you date me?”

Of all the questions Logan had been expecting, that certainly hadn’t been one of them.

“We’d take it slow at first, of course.” Remy continued on, seemingly undaunted by Logan’s silence. “Not because I don’t trust you, but because I still don’t… fully trust myself. I don’t want either of us to get hurt, especially not you.”

“I… Remy, are you sure about this?” Logan asked, some small part of his brain screaming at him for being an idiot. Remy wanted to date him, for goodness’s sake, and all he had to do was say yes!

But for all that time had changed, Logan’s resolve to keep Remy safe and happy remained unchanged. He wasn’t going to let the past possibly ruin Remy’s future.

“I know why you’re worried. And I get it. That night I broke up with him… I was a wreck. I did things we both know I regret. I felt broken and I thought you were the only thing that could fix me, and I was hasty. And I can never apologize enough for that.”

“You don’t have to apologize for it at all.”

“Then I won’t. But my point remains.” Remy pushed on. “What I did that night,,, that was a mistake. But that doesn’t change the fact that I was being honest when I told you I loved you, Logan. The timing was horrible, but it was true. It’s always been true, ever since high school. And while you were right back then, when you said anything we had would be unhealthy, I think… I think if we try now, it could be something good.” Remy paused to smile almost ruefully at Logan. “And I think we deserve something good.”

Logan squeezed Remy’s hands. “You deserve everything good.”

Remy’s smile grew. “That’s why… that’s why I want to date you Logan. I think we’d be something good- better than good; I think we’d be great. But not if it’s going to hurt you.”

Logan frowned. “Hurt me?”

“Don’t say yes because you want me to be happy. Say yes because you want to, or say no.” Remy explained. “I will love you the same either way. But I had to ask. I don’t want to let one bad night define what we could be.” Remy paused to smirk. “Plus, my therapist says me ignoring my feelings is repression, and he’s got a big no-no policy on that.”

“Therapists do tend to frown down on that, yeah.” Logan agreed, laughing.

Remy laughed too before the two of them fell into silence- comfortable silence, as it always was between them. It never felt awkward, just… right.

“So… what do you say?” Remy asked again, voice gentle as he asked. “Like I said, no wrong answers- and if you need time to think about it, I can go-”

“I’d love to.” Logan cut him off, blushing a bit as he clarified, “Love to try, that is. Try… try us.”

“Really?” Remy asked, leaning in close to Logan’s face. “No lies? You really honestly want to date me?”

“I’ve wanted to date you since middle school.” Logan admitted shyly. “Trust me, Remy. This isn’t pity.”

Remy’s eyes lit up as his smile once more morphed into a grin. “Can I hug you?”

“Please do.”

Letting go of Logan’s hands, Remy’s arms wrapped around Logan, pulling him close up against Remy, his hold tight but not restraining. Logan wrapped his arms around Remy, hugging back. It was perfect.

For a moment, they stayed like that, happy to just be in each other’s company.

“I love us.’’ Remy said quietly, breaking the silence but not hurting the moment in the slightest.

“We’ve been ‘us’ for all of a minute.” Logan pointed out.

“Don’t care.” Remy responded, resting his chin on top of Logan’s head. “I love us.”

Logan let out a small chuckle as he leaned against Remy, fully accepting the embrace. “I love us too.”

And for once, Logan was happy his middle school wish had never been granted.

#losleep #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #sanders sides #ts sides #fanfic #fanfiction #the cryptid speaks #me: ah yes this is h/c losleep #also me: *leaves out what the hurt is* dnbcfjhdb #anyways- enjoy :3

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