#AND AGAIN WITH THE SHIRT TUG. HELLO SMALL CHILD CAN I HELP YOU WITH SOMETHING AS I PACK

[karmaphone]

why does my moms washer have the ghost of a singing or possibly weeping child in it

[nanaomei]

Hello again :) im the anon with idea for a request. What I had in mind was something a bit angsty with a *happy ending, of course, along the lines of reader who is pregnant and something happens to her that she gets hurt/injured and Gojo flips out. Nothing tooooo bad happens to the resder but she needs apecial care or extra attention after. Thank you again for accepting this a giving it a try💙💙💙 you are the best and can't wait to read whatever you put out next🤗🥺

“Toru im fine, really” it’s a phrase you catch yourself repeating too often as of late. But oh, you don’t think he actually believes you. Because every step you take, he’d be there, and in a way, he can’t bring himself to relax.

“I know, baby girl. I know,” he’d reassure, but do anything but leave you alone. And he’s got a nerve to call you ‘baby girl’ again, as if you were helpless. Well, in his eyes, you are.

You’ve got him kneeling at 7a.m to help you put on a pair of tights, gently rolling them up your calves, your heel resting on his thigh as he kisses your own, kneading your plump flesh while pulling the waist band over your overflowing belly until it’s safely secured in its place.

“I’m gonna crush you” you scoffed silently, masking your worry under a layer of annoyance as your brows furrow at his act of care.

“Nah” He actually enjoys it and you don’t know why, your weight must be heavy as you lean your whole body with your hands on his shoulders, but it’s never a problem “I’m the strongest, don’t you know it by now, pretty thing?”

Toothy grin send your way, so cocky it makes you roll your eyes. Sure, he is.

Getting ready to work is hard, especially 8 months pregnant. You could easily stop working, you should, but you never want to. It both worries and amuses Satoru to no end “are you sure you’ll be able to handle today?” asking almost sickeningly sweet, your husband couldn’t help himself from making sure, just one more time.

It makes your nose twitch in annoyance, brows scrunched as you let out a frustrated sigh “Yes, thank you very much” your response is nothing short of sarcastic but that didn’t do much to deter him from worrying “and I mean, I’ve been handling you, a literal man child since forever, so I think I’m fine dealing with a bunch of teenagers for a day”

He knows you're capable, but he's also aware of the newfound boundaries your pregnant body can't deal with. You're creating another life and in all of this he's got to be the one reminding you to take it easy.

Smirking, he continued adjusting your tights up, pausing for a brief moment to let the baby kick his hand. He loves your spunkiness, your determination. It reminds him of your high school days when you'd fight hell and back to prove your worth.

"I learned my lesson,” he replied lightly, that teasing glint back in his eyes, throwing a playful glance towards you before standing up, helping you find some stability. "You're damn stubborn, but that’s part of your charm I suppose."

You let him capture your lips in a soft kiss, thumbs absently rubbing circles on your cheeks, a gentle reassurance and encouragement etched in his gaze "just try to take it easy today. If possible, give me updates in between for a good measure, alright?”

Your gaze narrowed on his, but the corners of your mouth twitched up into a small smirk. With his help, you stood up straight and tall, teeth clicking together as you adjusted your clothing one last time.

"I can't promise anything” The warning is lighthearted, your palm patting his cheek before picking up your bag ready to leave, so there’s no more talking about it.

As you head out, his arms naturally circle around your waist, supporting your heavy body with an ease that only he can manage. A cute grunt escaped him, but his smile never falteres. “Well then,”

"You're gonna be late if we don't hurry," he mumbled against your ear, gently tugging the shirt to make sure everything was even.

"And when you’re at it,” Satoru said once you were hopping into the car, straightening up and gazing down at you, hands resting on your belly, caressing it gently, "don’t make me regret sending you off alone."

He really hopes you won’t. Your husband, always the busy, had a lot to do throughout the day, and you knew so.

Although frustrated he couldn’t accompany you to school every single day, it was something he had to make peace with.

In the end, he needed to accept that he couldn't hold you back. But that didn't mean he'd stop worrying about you.

In the breaks, Satoru caught himself checking his phone frequently, waiting for a buzz with a text from you. A small smile graced his lips, a bubble of joy filling his chest as he read the message: "Tea is good," along with a photo of a fancy cup

It was not much, just a small digit of information, but it helped ease his mind for a while. At least until he got not as pleasant phone call from Shoko, making him cut short his mission and rush back asap.

He could recall only glimpse of it. Accident. Infirmary. You.

He shouldn’t have let you go there. He fucking shouldn’t. Guilt eats at him with each step, heavy and ground, echoing through the small corridor. Anxiety chips at his sanity, bubbling along with frustration and worry; a mix of emotions Satoru isn’t good at surpassing.

The last time he’d seen you was at home, and he curses himself out for not making you stay, when you quite clearly shouldn’t even be near this damn building.

Satoru isn’t angry often, but when he is it’s undoubtedly a scary experience, and everyone knows so. He’s aware he’s projecting now, panicking and probably overreacting but how could he not?

You’re his wife, his love, the mother of his unborn child. Of course he’s crazy about your safety.

Hurried steps carried him closer to the three students sitting on the bench, all looking up the moment they heard him approach. Yuji was the first one to try and talk, but quite clearly, his teacher had none of it. “Sensei-“

“Silence.”Satoru glared at the trio, his eyes sharp and cold, demanding obedience through voice and sheer presence.

Finding his breath trembling with anger, a rarely shown emotion from him, he crouched in front of them, and even with eyes covered his frustration was palpable. "Didn’t I clearly say to keep an eye on her?"

Accepting nods from each of the first year's with their heads hung low in shame was still not enough to calm Satoru down "so why the hell didn't you?" he bellowed, snapping their heads up, the guilt in their eyes doing little to placate him.

"We thought she could handle herself” Megumi stuttered out, his voice barely above a whisper. It truly was a misfortune, if that makes it any better, and in this case it doesn't seem important; you are, and the thought of anything happening to you, unacceptable.

Satoru's eyes narrowed, taking in their pouty faces, looking like they had just seen a ghost. "You thought wrong" he spat, standing back up immediately, taking a step back.

"Whose idea was it?" his chest heaved, each breath an effort as he tried to calm his nerves, pushing his palms into fists. His hands trembled as if all of his anger and frustration were physically manifesting as is fearing the answer, although knowing well enough whose idea it was. He couldn’t even be mad at the kids for long, he firsthand experienced how stubborn you can be.

Surprisingly, all three stayed silent accept for murmurs of ‘we’re sorry’, not daring to look up and acknowledge his question. Still, by the looks they were sending one another, he by now figured it must have been you.

It warmed his heart a little, knowing how devoted they were to not snitch even in face of consequences. With a heavy sigh, Satoru rubbed his temples with his index finger and thumb, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"Alright, we'll discuss this later," he said calmer than before, his voice laced with both resignation and acceptance. Turning on his heels, he started walking away, stopping short after a few steps.

“I’m going to deal with you three in a moment. Stay put” seeing his students so remorseful stilled his anger, forcing a deep breath out of him as he nodded for them to follow his orders.

The frustration he had moments ago dissipated, replaced by a heavier, more solemn feeling. He knew he shouldn't be mad at them, but the thought of you in danger because of your own stubbornness made him feel like he was suffocating.

Gathering his thoughts, Satoru headed toward the infirmary, the sight of you on one of beds meeting his gaze, talking casually with Shoko as if nothing happened- when it did.

Taking a moment to tone down on emotions before closing the door behind him, he made himself known, and from his face alone, it was obvious your husband was worried sick.

Your own face scrunched in an apologetic pout the moment you registered his familiar presence, and you even put on a sweet tone he knew you always used when you felt bad.

“Satoru, please don’t start...” of course you’d say that, he couldn’t help but scoff as he inched closer, watching as you put away the small container of fruits onto your belly- a comical sight, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to it now.

"Start? Start what?" He replied, glaring daggers at you, your pacifying actions seemingly going unnoticed.

“It was a misfortune-“

"A misfortune that led to you fainting. It’s not ‘nothing’, you’re pregnant for Christ's sake” his voice was unusually cold as he cut you off, but the underlying love and care for you shone through.

Despite feeling a pang in his chest, a sliver of guilt for the situation, he knew he couldn’t let it go, not today, not with you right in front of him and clearly went against his wishes when you were supposed to take it easy.

His voice was stern now, worried yet firm, his blindfold long pulled from his forehead to let his gaze search for answers in yours. He didn’t want to scold you, but he absolutely had to get to the bottom of this. Turning to Shoko, he let out an exaggerated sigh, his voice gravel as he spoke “Shoko, how is she?”

The woman hummed softly, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes before glancing at Satoru "Not as bad as before, except for some minor cramps from overexerting herself. Heart palpitation, it’s a good thing those kids brought her here. But please, she insists on going back to teach tomorrow."

Satoru's nostrils flared,m, shaking his head in disbelief. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Absolutely not," he replied firmly, turning back to address you sternly. "You heard her. You're not going back tomorrow. You’re not coming back at all. I’m putting you on bed rest from now on"

You expected much, sure, but home jail? An exaggerated gasp left your mouth, hand reaching to squeeze his arm, a gesture of pleading and disapproval as you tugged on his sleeve, puppy eyes trying to guilt trip him into letting this go but the frown remained on his face. “b-but Toru-“

"No," this time, there was no place for discussion, his mind already set on things and completely convinced. "you stay home, no ifs, ands, or buts.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Satoru quickly raised a hand. "I don't want to hear it," he said decisively, already feeling a headache form from the nerves "How is it looking?”

“I’d prefer this cutie stay here for an observation, at least till tomorrow” the brunette’s words carried tingle of amusement seeing your face contract in betrayal as the two seemed to have a silently gang up on you “S-shoko!”

"It's settled then. I won't let you go anywhere,” he declared, turning to the woman. “Make sure you put your foot down if she tries to argue.”

"You really underestimate me don't you?" You retorted back, your voice rising slightly as you pointing an accusative finger at both of them. "I am fine, really! I've been through worse, remember?"

You placed a hand on your stomach, giving it a gentle pat as if trying to reassure yourself. "I promise, I promise I will be careful next time. Really, really!"

“No do, you’re staying.” Satoru once again, was quick to shush you down, taking a seat on a chair next to your bed, not stopping himself from feeling your stomach, as if to reassure himself you were once again safe and sound, like he wanted you to. “Now take care of those grapes, and I don’t want you leaving any behind”

Your eyes landed on Satoru's concerned expression, softness creeping into your voice, and you couldn't help but feel guilty for upsetting him.

After all, he was merely trying to protect you.

Defeated, you sighed softly and relented, a small frown tugging at your lips. Crossing your legs, you resulted in taking one of the fruits from the container, clicking your tongue in displeasure, but what could you do? It was quiet clear by now that you lost this argument.

“Fine then. I’ll be lying on the couch like the fat potato I am” you whined but frankly, today had just been wearing you out. Regardless, it was clear you understood why he was upset. It wasn’t common for you, but with your current state, it was due to accept the defeat as it was.

A small sigh you, and you found it all frustrating and sweet enough to just roll your eyes. “You're way too overprotective, you know that?”

Your smile softened when he laughed along, letting his hand rest on your knee. "you expect any less from me?" his gaze drifted towards you affectionately, the tension starting to dissipate, replaced by the usual comforting warmth you shared.

Taking a deep breath, Satoru’s worries seemed to calm. "I mean it though" he said it gently, trying not to scold, but inform. Seeing the examination records, the earlier imprints of distress and worry still evident in his eyes, Satoru tried to take a deep breath. "no more working for you, little lady"

You gave him a small nod, a sweet, apologetic smile brushing across your lips. He knew you'd be stubborn, always had been, but he also knew you'd try to make it up to him. And perhaps, to some, it was a surprising sight—the way you’d try to comfort him in this situation.

“You’re always worried” muttering softly, you laced your fingers with his in an attempt to take away his worry.

“I guess I am” humming softly, the anger he felt previously was distant now as he leaned closer, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, his hand sneaking teasingly towards your chest-

"you guys are gross" shouting from the other side of the room, Shoko’s voice broke you two off in an instant "either stop mingling in my infirmary or i'm banning your husband from visitng"

"hey, no fair-"

[seabirdtxt]

.Irminsul stash --Traveler_Inventory

You and Scaramouche head over to ask the Traveler for some groceries [< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU without cult shenanigans, mostly filler chapter. sorry for the long hiatus!

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

As much as you enjoyed spending your time running around Teyvat in-game, nothing quite prepares you for how vast it actually is. 

Of course you’ve known that, logically speaking, it’s impossible to correctly scale an entire city using a limitation such as video game engines. You are still knocked completely off your feet at the sight of the sprawling verdant domes and alabaster walkways of Sumeru City. 

You jog down from the Sanctuary doors and lean over the railing, eyes tracing the knotted branches of the Great Tree where they mesh flawlessly with the infrastructure of the city. The scale of things is easily dozens of times bigger than what is shown in-game, and despite the beautiful graphics it has, the game definitely cannot do justice to the sheer variety of buildings and people that make up Sumeru City. Unable to help yourself, you make wordless noises of awe as you take in the scenery.

“You’d think you’ve never seen a city before,” Scaramouche’s deadpan voice states from a few paces behind you, where he’s lazily following you down the ramp. You turn and face him, taking note of how he’d removed the colourful belts, ropes, and other identifying markers of his outfit, leaving only his bodysuit and black jinbei. He looks deeply annoyed by this state of undress, so you wisely choose not to mention it. 

“I mean, I’ve never seen it like this before,” you agree, gesturing to the skyline with a wide sweep of your arm. “Like, I’ve seen some of it from a certain, uh, distance? But seeing it in person… Wow. Just doesn't compare.” 

Scaramouche says nothing as he finally comes to a stop beside you, arms crossed as he surveys the view. After a few seconds he snorts derisively. “Looks the same as it always does, to me.” He scoffs. “Come on, we don’t have all day.”

You let him drag you down the rest of the ramps until you both meet the pale bricks of the main road. You follow him as he leads you, presumably, to wherever the Traveler is staying. Your eyes wander aimlessly, taking in the sights. 

Something tugs at the gem of your shirt and you stop walking, surprised. When you look down, you see a small child with dirt stains on their hands and knees, and a streak of dirt across their face. The child beams up at you, holding out their closed fist and shaking it at you.

“Oh, hello. What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside them. You hear a noise of disgust from Scaramouche, which you wave off in favor of giving the child a smile. “Anything I can help you with, buddy?”

The child shakes their fist again and you finally get the message. You present your own open hand, palm upturned, and the child drops whatever they’re holding into it. They scamper off quickly before you can say anything, so instead you peer at the tiny object in your hand.

It’s a small stone, with a very simplified carving on it. It appears to be some writing, and an angular leaf shape. The marks are gibberish to you, but surely it has significance of some kind, so you pocket it and stand back up. You give Scaramouche an apologetic grin, to which he simply rolls his eyes and continues on.

The walk is, understandably, much longer physically than it is in-game, and you find yourself a little winded by the time you’re anywhere near the Grand Bazaar. You do eventually get to a building that you (very, very vaguely) recognize as the inn the Traveler and Paimon stayed at during the Sabzeruz Festival arc, and you huff a sigh of relief that the long stroll is finally over. Before you can even approach or knock, you’re bowled over by a flying white mess of limbs.

“Creator! You’re here!” Paimon squeals in your ear as she tackles you to the best of her ability, and you wince as she excitedly hugs whatever part of you she can reach. “I’m so glad that stupid mean puppet didn't kill you yet!”

Scaramouche makes an offended noise at that last remark and flips Paimon the bird.

“Yeah, here I am!” You laugh after untangling her from around your head and pat her head as the Traveler joins her, looking a little worse for wear. Their outfit is a little stained in places, and bears some signs of scorch marks at the edges.

“Good timing, we just got back from our morning commissions,” they say with a wave. “I didn’t think you’d be out and about so soon, is there anything you need help with?”

“We want your ingredients supplies.” Scaramouche blurts out, interrupting any of your attempts to phrase it in a nicer way. 

“All of them?!” Paimon gasps, absolutely devastated. You quickly step in before Scara can say anything else.

“No no! Just a little bit,” you reassure the sprite, then address the rest of your request to the Traveler with an affable shrug. “If you have anything to spare we’d really appreciate it. We don’t exactly have a lot of food in my teapot yet. Or, uhh… Any food, at all.”

“Oh!” The traveler smacks their forehead with the heel of their palm. “I didn’t think of that, Your Grace, I’m so sorry!”

“You really don’t have to call me that,” You laugh awkwardly at the title and volume at which the Traveler said it, conscious of the curious glances your little group has attracted. All around you you begin to hear indistinct murmuring, and you frantically hope they’re not talking about you. “And, uh, don’t worry about it! It’s a bit short notice, I get it.”

“As long as you leave some for us, it’s no problem!” Paimon says as she recovers from her shock. The Traveler turns to her with a sly grin.

“As long as they leave some for you, you mean?” They tease, to which Paimon splutters in protest. The Traveler gently pokes her cheek while she throws her tantrum.

“Can we take this inside?” Scaramouche asks waspishly, stopping the pair’s bickering for a moment. “Or literally anywhere else? Maybe you two enjoy being ogled like zoo animals, but I personally don’t appreciate being eyed up by the unwashed masses.”

“How rude! You haven’t learned a single thing, have you?!” Paimon scolds, turning her wrath on the harbinger. 

“Actually, I agree,” you give a halting laugh as you step closer to the building. More and more eyes are turning toward you. You give the crowd an awkward wave, and suddenly the murmurs turn into a clamor as people begin to understand your identity.

“Oh, whoops,” the Traveler says, grabbing both your hand and Scaramouche’s bicep. Paimon quickly gets the idea and grabs onto the sleeve of their outfit. “Time to go!”

-----

You spiral back into existence high above the streets of Sumeru, close to the Akademia front doors, having been forcefully teleported as a group with the Traveler. They set you down gently, while simultaneously dropping Scaramouche like a sack of potatoes. 

“Ow! Hey, watch it!” 

“Are you alright, Your Grace?”

Three pairs of eyes watch as you dust yourself off and give a cheerful thumbs up. “All good!” You announce. “Let’s talk groceries, shall we?”

In the end, the Traveler decides to give you and Scaramouche three bags of dry products—things like fruits and veggies, rice, sugar, coffee beans, and cured meat—and promises to stop by your teapot sometime later in the week to deliver cold foods and more fresh produce. 

“I’m sure some of this probably isn’t what you’re used to in your world,” the Traveler says apologetically, giving you a wry smile. “If you have any questions about it, I’m sure you can ask Wanderer. He’s been enrolled in some cooking classes for the past few semesters, so he’ll know what he’s doing.”

“Hah! As if.” Scaramouche snatches the last bag of groceries out of their hands with a sneer. “That weakling is going to be out running errands for Buer’s every whim. Do you really expect him to be around long enough to cook adequately? I’ll handle this.” 

The Traveler only raises a single eyebrow at the declaration, then shrugs. “Suit yourself,” they chuckle. “Just don’t poison the Creator, I guess.”

“Can the Creator even get sick?” Paimon asks, hovering around you and inspecting you closely enough to make you ticklish. “I’m not sure gods are supposed to be able to get sick, you know!”

“Well, we don’t want to find out!” 

“It’s fine, a little food poisoning won’t kill me,” you reassure the three of them, knowing you’ll be having a rough go at it for the foreseeable future given what you know about Scaramouche’s current cooking skills.

“So, what? None of you have any faith in me?” Scaramouche frowns and crosses his arms as best as he can around his grocery bags. 

The response comes from the three of you at the same time.

“No.”

[mcyt-peach]

playground love

*:･ﾟ summary: a surprise visit from Phil's nephew lands you and George a babysitting gig

*:･ﾟ pairing: cc!george x gn!reader

*:･ﾟ warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of marriage (joke)

*:･ﾟ note: love George but you can't deny this man would be frustrating to work with because he'd keep falling asleep

*:･ﾟ series masterlist

"Y/n! George! Can you come up here for a bit?" Phil’s voice sounded out from the office window that overlooked the store.

"God I hope we’re not in trouble." George mumbles, climbing the stairs, still tired despite the slow day.

"What, afraid he’s gonna call you out for napping during your shift?"

"That was one time!" He tries to keep his exasperated tone quiet as the two of you approach Phil’s office.

"I’d like you both to meet my nephew, Michael!" Phil smiles, patting the back of a small child who's staring at his feet and tugging the bottom of his shirt. "Sorry to spring it on you two, but you’ll have to babysit him today."

You and George quickly share a look before Phil tacks on, "Don’t worry, he’s very well behaved." Another look was shared between you too, causing Phil to sigh and concede, "Fine, you can pick first for next week’s shifts."

You squat down beside the boy and give him a gentle smile. "Hi Michael, my name’s Y/n!"

The boy barely glances up at you and only mutters a polite "Hello Y/n."

George mirrors your stance and sends a small smile your way. "Hey buddy! Do you like coloring?"

Michael’s head snaps up as his eyes widen. You can't help but let out a slight laugh at his cute expression.

Both boys tear off towards the stairs as you shout a "Be careful!" after them. The sound of a tumble and then soft crying spurs a sigh from Phil. "Maybe you should get on that."

Right.

At the bottom of the stairs sat a crying Michael and an equally panicked George, who was desperately trying to calm the boy. Michael reached his tiny hands towards you and you brought the small boy into your arms in an attempt to comfort him.

One ice pack and two lollipops later, Michael was as happy as could be. He's perched on a comically large stool, swinging his feet back and forth as he draws next to your coworker.

"George! Why aren’t you drawing? You said you would help!" Michael whines a bit at the boy beside him.

Placing your hand on George’s head and ruffling his hair, you laugh. "That’s because pretty boy over here can’t tell his colors apart. Think you can teach him the colors, Michael?"

The boy’s face splits into a grin as he launches into an animated explanation of the rainbow.

The sound of the front door opening brings you back to the register. After checking out the customer, you feel a slight tug on your pants and look down to find a patiently waiting Michael. Once again, the boy reaches his hands up and you lift him into your grasp.

You give George a questioning look, but find no answer when he mirrors your confusion. Michael pokes your cheek to get your attention, holding a hand up next to your ear.

Leaning towards you, Michael asks, in the loudest whisper you’ve ever heard, "Is George your boyfriend?"

You can feel the shock run through your body at that moment. If you weren’t so utterly confused by this fever dream situation, you’d honestly be impressed by the fact that you didn’t drop the boy the second he asked you that question.

Instead, all you could do was stare at the "boyfriend" in question. His eyes were wide and his jaw might as well have been on the floor. His face was so red you would make a colorblind joke if you had the ability to. When you finally do remember how to speak, you sputter for a moment before managing anything coherent.

"W-what?! Michael, where’d you get that idea?" The boy looks at you with a very confused face, as if you just told him that aliens aren’t real.

"But you said he was pretty! And George said the same thing too. When we were drawing, I told him to draw something pretty and he drew you!" The boy might as well be exposing George’s deepest secrets with how much the Brit is groaning at him to stop.

George thought you were pretty?

"Michael! Your parents are here!" Phil’s voice once again makes an appearance from the office window and Michael hops down from your grasp.

"When you get married, can I come to the wedding?" The boy grins before racing up the stairs to Phil’s office.

Well, this was going to be an awkward shift.

taglist: @cultof-medusa @mooncaffeine @lemonedbeetle @patchesofwork @junebug-isunavailable @cryptidcritter @paradigmax @soot-and-co @alovestruck-fool @onehellofaweeb13 @stayacarat @ladylapize @satellitesunshine @hanaamara @nonetookind @tinylillx @jhinx-it @h0p33e @flowerguywashere @olibv @daydreamerwriting @mayempress @kaii-jpeg @msbonink @kkusuxa @oatnivison @crestentmoon5678 @nightmarefox15 @lous-blue @girlofthefandom @somethingsuperstupidsstuff @greatesthitz @thethiccestdaddy @hunneiuwu @megnotfound @missskyes @pressled @tokiyur @https-urwife @paranoia-agent11037 @cupidpebble @mhmelena @cupidpebble @elenawasfound

[lily-drake]

De-Aged

Jason: holy shit- she's so tiny!

Dick: *agitated* Jason, focus, what do we do??

Jason: *coos at the baby Marinette* I haven't seen her this small in forever.

Dick: we need- Jason! Focus! what do we do???

Jason: *shrugs* wait it out? I don't know.

Inspired by @bambicambi

Annoyance coursed through Marinette’s veins as she saw the new Akuma of the day.  Of course it happened when her family came to visit.  Looking up to the sky and praying for strength she turned her back to the chaos, something she would soon regret.  Her brothers were asking her what the heck was going on, and as she opened her mouth a baby pink ray of light hit her, and Marinette poofed and in her place sat 4-year-old Marinette Wayne.

Jason and Dick stared at the small child on the ground in shock and after the moments were over Jason eagerly picked her up and spun her around.

“Holy sh*!  She’s so tiny!”

Jason called out as he held the small giggling girl to his chest.  Dick, was rightfully frustrated and walking in small circles and quickly said,

“Jason, focus, what do we do?”

Upon hearing Jason making cooing noises, he swiftly turned to look at Jason.

“I haven’t seen her this small in forever!”

He exclaimed, nuzzling his nose against the small Marinette.

“We need-Jason!  Focus!  What do we do?”

Jason shrugged as he held Marinette against his hip.  She giggled and tugged at his jacket.

“Wait it out?  I don’t know.”

Dick opened her mouth, but stopped when Marinette began to speak.

“Jay-Jay!  Ride!  Ride!”

Jason’s grin grew and gently set her down while holding her hand.  He squared down and carefully released her hand.  He could not express the pure amount of joy he felt when she climbed onto his back and wrapped her tiny hands around his neck.

“Jason, have you just forgotten the weirdly dressed flying child that not only turned Marinette, but all of Paris into kids?!”

He…had forgotten.  But can you blame him?  Marinette was so tiny when she was a kid, and he hadn’t seen her like this in forever.

“Look, contact Zatanna while I keep her safe and distracted.”

Dick sighed in relief replying,

“Alri-wait a minute.”

Jason was already running with a giddily screaming Marinette.

“No fair, I want to cuddle my baby sister too!”

He sighed in frustration, and no he was not pouting.  Quickly pulling out his communicator he dialed Zatanna.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so I’m in Paris visiting some family, and this flying kid in really weird clothes is going around de-aging people.  Could you come see what’s going on please?”

“Pardon, but what?”

“Yea, it sho-“

Dick quickly ran through the streets dodging beams that were now directed towards him.  Why did stuff like this always happen when they traveled?

A few moments later a portal opened and he had never been more relieved to see Zatanna in his life.  Zatanna looked around and looked at the villain.  As she studied it and was about to jump in, a neon butterfly mask appeared over the child’s face and she realized what this was.

“I can’t do anything, sorry Dick.”

“What?!  Why?!”

“This is ancient magic, probably the most ancient magic in the universe.  There should be others…, see,”

She said pointing to a cat-like figure in the distance.  Dick stared in confusion, what was happening?

While Dick was trying to figure everything out Jason was having the time of his life with Tiny Mari.  He was especially thankful that when she was blasted that her clothes were transformed into a white t-shirt and overalls with lions stitched throughout them.  He had taken so many pictures of them.  We’re people running around everywhere scared, yes, yes they were.  But that didn’t stop him from enjoying as much time as he could with his tiny sister like he used to.

“Jay-Jay!  There’s a fairy in my pocket!”

“How is there a fairy in the Pixie’s pocket?”

He asked jokingly while swinging the hands back and forth!

“Lookin lookie!  It’s a Ladybug fairy!  She’s so pwetty.”

Marinette held Tikki in both of her hands and jumped up and down trying to get him to look.  Jason chuckled and looked down at the toy.  It was cute, he had never seen something like it before.  Then it blinked, and flew out of Marinette’s hand, and oh gosh, IT CAN TALK?!

“Marinette, you need to help Chat Noir defeat the akuma?”

“Akuma matata!”

Marinette called out with a giggle.  Jason would have laughed, if it weren’t for the flying bug thing talking to his sister, who was currently 4, telling her to help someone defeat the crazed villain.

“Woah!  Are you insane?!  Look at her?!  How do you expect her to fight?!”

The thing looked conflicted before sighing and saying,

“Well, do you want to fight it?  You just need to wear the earrings, I can run you through what you need to do!”

“No!”

Marinette screamed.

“I want to be like you and daddy!  It’s my turn to help people!”

“Marinette, you're too young.”

Tears began to well up in the small child’s eyes.

“I-it’s no fair!  You al-always say that!  I want to help!”

She finished stamping her foot definitely with a sharp glare.  Jason sighed in exhaustion and turned to the floating creature.  He mumbles under his breath,

“Can’t believe I’m letting this happen.”

He knew by the way Marinette was gripping at her ears and the definence in her stance.  He could easily take them by force, but he didn’t want to hurt her or make her angry and feel betrayed.

“Can you assure above all else that she will be completely and utterly safe.  I will join as well in my hero suit to make absolutely sure.”

“Yes, she has a partner as well who will watch out for her.”

He sighed in relief at that, but there was a new and very heavy weight on his chest that wouldn’t leave until this event was over.  He listened to the fairy tell Marinette what she needed to do and almost smiled at the determined face she was making.  Her cheeks were so chubby and-no, focus!  He pulled out an extra domino mask he always carried with him and zipped up his leather jacket.  When he turned around there was a burst of pink light and where Tiny Mari once stood stood his sister in the cutest outfit he had ever seen!  It was similar to his old Robin outfit, but closer to Tim’s as she thankfully felt that there needed to be pants.  She had small wings on her back with a black cape with red bottom edges that shielded them from view.  And in her hands was a tiny yo-yo.  Before anything else could happen, he quickly pulled out his phone and took pictures.  He wanted to show this to Bruce and brag, sue him.

Soon after that they both left to the rooftops.  He was honestly surprised by how easily she maneuvered around the roofs and how easily her yo-yo grappled and released from things.  They soon landed next to a Cat Woman knock-off who turned to look at them in surprise and exhaustion.  When Marinette saw him she quickly turned to him and tugged on his sleeve.  Jason crouched down and Mini-bug leaned close to his ear and whispered,

“Does Selie have a son?”

Jason snickered and glanced up at the kid.  He seemed to have heard them if the ears twitching and confused look said anything.

“No Pix.  He was just inspired.”

“Oh, okie-dokie!”

“So, I’m assuming you two know each other and she was hit out of suit?”

“Yep, basically.”

“Right.  Well, we just need to break the wand, but I can’t get close.”

“Little Lady, cast your charm.”

Mini-bug puffed up her cheeks making her old —and most adorable— thinking face before yelling out while throwing the yo-yo into the air,

“Lucky Charm!”

“A red and black spotted rubber bullet dropped into Mini's awaiting palms.  Jason promptly took the bullet and loaded it into his gun, it was the perfect fit.  The hideously dressed child flew over to them and flourished her wand creating the opening Jason needed.  With one quick shot the bullet flew through the air and hit the wand causing it to snap.  A black and purple butterfly began to fly out and mini quickly caught it.  She quickly released it bouncing on her heels in pure joy as a wide smile grew onto her face.

“Told ya I coul’ do it!”

“Yes you did, good job Pix.”

Chat Noir, who they hadn’t noticed disappeared, came back with the bullet and handed it to the small girl.  She threw the bullet into the air jumping up as well and yelled out,

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

Millions of Ladybugs flew through the air repairing damages and Turing people back to normal ending with Ladybug herself.  Ladybug looked around confusedly and saw Chat on her right and Red Hood on her left.  Memories of the past hour flashed through her mind and she promptly hid her face in her hands and a deep blush bloomed across her face.

“This is a disaster, a complete disaster.”

“I don’t know Bug, was it?”

Jason asked with a crap eating grin.

“Yes.”

Came her mumbled response.  Jason laughed and ruffled her hair, Marinette was too miserable to care.

“We should go make sure golden boy isn’t panicking too much, don’t ya think?”

Marinette sighed tiredly and nodded, I guess so.

“Sorry Chat, I promise I’ll explain later.  Bug out.”

And as quickly as she could she swung away with Red Hood laughing and not too far behind.

“B is going to hate that he missed this.”

He called through the air causing a loud groan to escape her lips.

“Don’t show him!”

“Too late Pix, already sent them all to the group chat.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you to Babybug.”

Marinette groaned again and Jason laughed all the way to where they found Dick and Zatanna talking in an alleyway.

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @aurcad123

[mirabugtm]

A Rainy Day

Based on @sidsinning’s villainess au! I don’t know why it ended up angsty but it did XD

(btw idk if this is canon, so please take this with a grain of salt.)

It was a rainy day when the Dupain family heard of the queen's passing. The clouds weren't letting up, not a ray of sunshine in sight. Marinette peeked from behind the door as her parents read the letter, along with the carriage that was waiting for them to take them to the castle.

Marinette found it cliché, but she knew it was inevitable. There was nothing she could've done to prevent Adrien's mother from catching an illness no one could cure. The only thing she could do is be there for him. She huffed as she huddled to her mom, clutching onto her puffy sleeve.

She's torn. If she shows that she cares, would she accidentally change the story? From what she remembered, the Marinette from the book as pretty selfish and obsessed with her fiance. Even when his mother died, she used the opportunity to try to get closer to him, whispering that she'll never leave him. She still tried to use it as a way to win him over, a completely insensitive thing to do.

Why was the villainess so aggravating in this story? She didn't know.

The rain poured harder and harder during the journey. The small blue-haired child rested her head against her arm, watching the raindrops fall down. They were lucky enough that none of them went on her skirt. Her mother watched her as she tapped her finger against the door.

"Marinette," she called out.

"Yes?"

"Just be careful around the prince," she said. "He's going through a lot right now."

"Yes mother."

What could she do though? As much as she tried to be nice to avoid her death flags, she had no idea how he felt about her. Yes he was being nice to her, but could it be that he was just being polite? But then again, his smile seemed genuine when he was around her. She was torn.

-.-

The carriage came to a stop. Immediately she saw the scary lady in spectacles, followed by the gorilla looking guard. "Thank you for attending," she greeted as she bowed at them. Marinette avoided eye contact as she was led away from the vehicle.

When they were escorted to the garden where the burial was being held, the first thing she saw was the prince, holding onto his father's shirt. The king had his hand on the boy's shoulder, not saying a word. Adrien had his back turned, possibly staring at the coffin in front of them. Her mother pushed her gently away from her and to the prince.

With a heavy heart, she slowly inched her way towards prince Adrien. Each step felt heavier and heavier as the child contemplated over what she wanted to say to him. As much as she wanted to be close, she knew it would never happen. But he really needed a friend. But then again, was she enough? She was just a villainess, someone who will be irrelevant the moment the heroine shows up she-

Too late. She tapped his shoulder.

Adrien didn't respond for a while. She gulped when she tapped him again. He shrugged it off and immediately the young girl yelped in fright. "I apologize Your Highne-"

The prince turned around then. "Marinette?" he said letting go of his father. His eyes were wide eyed, his arms lowering to his side. Marinette took a step back. Did she startle him?

"Uhhh, umm…" She looked to the ground, her hands still up in defense. "Hello, Your Highness."

Adrien frowned when he heard those words. Then, tugging on the sleeve of his father, he whispered something in his ear. Did Marinette do something wrong? She could feel her body tremble as Adrien returned her gaze. "Marinette, can you come with me?"

Marinette slowly nodded her head as the prince reached out for his hand and slowly pulled her away from the scene. Marinette's eyes widened as the boy tugged her away from the burial, away from the crowd. She didn't even realize her dress was getting wet the further they went. "Um, A-Adrien," she called out as he continued pulling her further and further into the garden. He ignored her cry and continued pulling her in. She couldn't help but panic as the bushes began looking way too similar. It was almost a maze.

"Um, Adrien, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for your loss I-"

It was then the prince stopped her. She stared at the child's back before taking in the sight. A wall of roses surrounded them, and in the middle was a resting area covered in vines. The rain was still pouring hard, and her frilly black dress was soaked in the misery. "Marinette?"

"Y-yes?"

He immediately pulled her into his arms, causing the girl to nearly malfunction. The rain continued to fall, a soft ambience covering the cries from the other side. "I'm sorry Marinette," he said, his voice growing weak.

Without even thinking, the blue-haired girl wrapped her arms around him, patting his back. "I'm sorry, Adrien," she whispered, her throat slightly closing up as she continued to rub his back in circles. "About your mom."

"There was nothing you could do about it," he said softly, slightly squeezing her as he hid sniffle or two.

"You… you have her eyes. And her smile."

She remembered when she saw him and his sickly mother, the way he smiled at her. The way he talked to her with light in his eyes. She remembered when he would go to the small piano in her room, playing songs that she knew. Love. It was love.

The thought of it broke her heart.

"She loves you," she said softly. "Even now." And of course she knew. Even with the little backstory she knew of the character, she must've loved and cared for her little prince.

Marinette felt him bury his face onto her shoulder. He was a bit taller than her, but it didn't matter. That moment, she felt a bit of warmth despite her soaked clothes. The two of them didn't speak afterwards, embracing each other as he cried softly into her shoulder, the little boy that tried to be strong in front of everyone. She softly patted his back, her thoughts wandering away from him.

It all still felt like a dream. His warmth, his vulnerability, his affection. One day, it'll be taken away from her.

She mentally shook her head. No matter what, she should never fall for the prince. Never.

Because she knew that the more she fell for him, the harder she'll break when she finally woke up.

(Once again, credits to @sidsinning! I hope I get to write more of this au, if you’ll let me XD)

[god1ngs]

━‎ ghost of a memory

synopsis; the ghost of a man comes back.

contains; pogtopia wilbur spoilers, yandere themes, mentions of death, implied death, swearing, mentions of stalking, wilbur is a creep in this

yandere c!wilbur soot / reader, 2.8k wc

note; this is the longest thing i've ever written >:)) very proud of this

masterlist

‎ ‎ ‎it was snowing, like it usually was. the layers of snow piled up on the floor only to get crushed down by your boot. you were on your way back to your house, ready to lay down and relax. days were hard now, especially since having moved away from the dream smp and l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎it was easy at first, but you were more lonely now. there was no tommy to come greet you in the mornings, or no tubbo to show you his new bee portrait done by someone else. it was lonely, only your presence to comfort you when days got too lonely.

‎ ‎ ‎you lived near techno, phil, and ranboo, but you never really talked to them. while you could hold your own, the angel of death and blood god striked fear into your heart. phil, although somewhat of an intimidating man, had been much different after the explosion of l'manberg.

‎ ‎ ‎you hadn't been there to know what happened, but it was something severely detrimental from what you've heard. and you haven't even heard that much. you heard of how l'manberg was exploded, but didn't know much else. there was a way people looked whenever you asked about it though.

‎ ‎ ‎you set down your things as you came inside your house, tired from the long day of venturing out from the snowy area. you had been trying to find some more resources, having been slowly running out of some minor ones, but wanting to have them nonetheless. sighing, you tiredly looked down at your hands.

‎ ‎ ‎you never went a day without thinking of what you had done with those hands. blood splattered along the calloused palms of them, rough from gripping swords and bows. you regretted your previous decisions, having worked alongside l'manberg. while you didn't regret meeting the people, the experiences would plague you for years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎a knock on your door brung you out of your mind, gentle and soft. it was unlike any of the loud banging from the war. you shook away your troubles, wanting to block out everything from your past as a soldier. you opened the door, hesitantly bringing your hand to the sword rested on your side.

‎ ‎ ‎it was ranboo. he stood at the door, taller than your doorframe, and looking down at you. "oh," you said, retracting your hand from the hilt of it. "hello ranboo. what brings you here?" you were curious, never having really been close to ranboo during your time at l'manberg. you two had become closer since you lived in each others radius, but had never talked for a long time.

‎ ‎ ‎"uh, i just.. i just wanted to ask if you've seen ghostbur. i haven't seen him in a while and was wondering if you have?" the dual boy asked, tugging at his shirt collar. ghostbur? your brows furrowed, a nervousness piling in your stomach. did he mean wilbur? he seemed confident about what he had said though.

‎ ‎ ‎you cleared your throat before speaking again, leaning against the doorframe. "who's ghostbur?" you asked, confused. maybe it was just a mess up with his name, ranboo was very forgetful after all. realization crossed his features, eyes wide. "you don't know who ghostbur is?"

‎ ‎ ‎disbelief coated his tone, shining in his eyes as well. the boy stammered, trying to figure out what to say. "oh boy, uh..." he exhaled harshly, scratching at his neck in nervousness. "do you know what happened when l'manberg was blown up?" you hadn't known much, but you did know what mainly happened ─ l'manberg had been blown to the smithereens.

‎ ‎ ‎"not really, i guess. i mean, i know l'manberg was blown up, but i don't know much besides that." you told ranboo, being confused as to why this was even important. he stayed silent for a minute, cautious as to what he should say. does he just tell you outright that wilbur had been killed and that ghostbur was his ghost?

‎ ‎ ‎he exhaled again, nervous. "well, wilbur is the one who blew up l'manberg and.. phil killed him after." he said, pausing between his words to see your reaction. your eyes were wide, throat dry. there was a deep pit in your stomach, a neverending bad feeling. "he's dead?" your voice trembled as you spoke, brows furrowed.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, sucking in a breath awkwardly. "i'm sorry i had to be the one to tell you." he said shortly, hands clasped behind his back. you tried to shake it off, laugh and tell him it was fine, but no words could come out. "so," you spoke once you had finally grasped your words. "is ghostbur his.. ghost?"

‎ ‎ ‎he nodded again, rocking on his heels. "he doesn't act anything like from what the old wilbur used to, from what i've heard." he tried to confide you, however it didn't do much to help. you smiled weakly at the male, not exactly knowing how to deal with the information as of now. "thank you, ranboo, and uh, no i haven't seen.. ghostbur. i hope you find him though."

‎ ‎ ‎with that, he thanked you and left you alone for now. you shut the door gently before breaking down. you grasped your hair, sliding against the wooden door. he was dead? while you slid against the door, you began laughing. he was dead. you were gleeful. you laughed and laughed and laughed. god, he was dead.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't know you would ever celebrate a mans passing, but wilbur was different. wilbur was.. obsessive. not only with control, but with you. you always got a weird feeling from him too. he was always with you somehow, always greeting you wherever you would be. he was highly protective of you and, while he passed it off as it due to you being a citizen of his country, you suspected otherwise.

‎ ‎ ‎your gleeful laughter masked the sound of the rustling bushes.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo hadn't known you didn't know of wilbur's passing. he thought maybe phil or someone else would've told you, not him having to break the news to you. you seemed awfully upset, he hoped you would be okay. as he walked, head down with a friend, there was a thought nagging at the back of his head.

‎ ‎ ‎recently, ghostbur had been acting different. he couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. he tossed the thought when there was a sudden shout of his name. he turned, quickly, seeing the man of the hour. "hello ranboo!" ghostbur said, smiling warmly at the other. "oh, hey ghostbur." he replied, a soft smile painting his face.

‎ ‎ ‎the two talked for a little while, catching up with each other and seeing how the other was. "well actually, i think i left friend at phil's house, do you mind go getting him for me, ranboo?" ghostbur asked, tilting his head at the half and half boy. ranboo's brows furrowed, wondering why he couldn't go get the sheep himself. it was his sheep after all.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo glanced back at his house, rubbing at the back of his neck before answering him. "uh, sure, yeah. i can do that! why can't you go get him though?" he asked, confused. he didn't mind going to go get friend, liking to help out his friends, he was simply curious. "oh, i just have something to do! it's nothing really, but thank you again ranboo!" the airy tone of ghostbur coated with delight, he smiled at the man.

‎ ‎ ‎ranboo nodded, wishing him a farewell, before walking away to get more food for the trip. finally. ghostbur smiled, turning to the wooden house you had gone in a few minutes prior.

‎ ‎ ‎he would have you.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't think that today would be the day you celebrate a dead man, but you learned new things everyday. you didn't celebrate per say, you were just happy the british man wouldn't bother you anymore. he had creeped you out when he was alive, but in death he couldn't do anything.

‎ ‎ ‎knocking at your door had interrupted your moment, brows arching at the door. hadn't ranboo just left? maybe there was something else he had to tell you. as you got closer to the door, hand nearly on the doorknob, you hesitated. why would ranboo come right back? it didn't make sense.

‎ ‎ ‎you put your hand on the hilt of your sword, once again preparing you for if you were to get attacked. yet as you opened the door, there only stood a man ─ a man who looked exactly like wilbur soot. from the hair, to the clothes, to the face shape; it all reminded you too much of wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hello! i'm ghostbur!" the man happily introduced himself, smiling warmly at you. this wasn't how wilbur acted? ranboo had told you that ghostbur acted different from him. "uh, hey. why are you here?" awkward and a tad rude, you asked, narrowing your [color] eyes at the brunette. he only smiled.

‎ ‎ ‎translucent, nearly grey in color hands rose up to wave you off. "i just wanted to come meet you! ranboo had said you were a good person! here, do you want some blue?" fishing in his pockets, ghostbur pulled out a small clump of blue. royal blue in color, it made you somewhat happy to look at it. the corners of your mouth twitched.

‎ ‎ ‎you accepted the blue, gently getting it place in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. you squished it some, finding a certain fondness in the way it felt. maybe he wasn't bad. "may i come in?" the ghost asked, tilting his head quizzically. could you trust this guy enough to let him inside your house?

‎ ‎ ‎you pondered the idea, considering the worse case scenario ─ which would really be just takes all of your things or killing you. you doubt he was able to though, he seemed way too nice to even think about it. he seemed trustworthy and so, without another thought, you let ghostbur inside of your home.

‎ ‎ ‎he thanked you and took a look around, complimenting your interior design with a warm smile. he had that aura, the one that makes you feel comforted in his presence. kind and gentle, he was the type of man to be gentle with anything and everything. he seemed rather innocent as well, a child like enthusiasm in the way he carried himself.

‎ ‎ ‎you didn't mind, you actually found it quite admirable. before the war, you had been like that as well. bubbly and warm, smiles that could outshine the sun ─ and now, you were alone, although of your own accord. you had to admit, it was better for it to be like this though. the war and other experiences you shared with l'manberg still haunted your nightmares, causing you to wake up in a cold sweat everytime.

‎ ‎ ‎"[name]," the ghost murmured, looking over the paintings on the wall. "these paintings are quite lovely!" you smiled, agreeing with him. the paintings were nice, as they had been given to you as a president from ranboo. he had magnificent taste, the paintings holding such beauty. you sighed softly, glancing towards ghostbur.

‎ ‎ ‎"hey ghostbur? do you remember anything.. before you died?" you asked, cringing at the question yourself. you assumed it was a question he got a lot, being the ghost of a man who was loved by many, but you couldn't help the curiousity arising in you. he only smiled at you, he always seemed to be smiling.

‎ ‎ ‎"only the good memories! i don't remember any of the bad memories wilbur has!" he answered, still staring at the paintings. he seemed to take a liking to them. you nodded, humming in thought as you glossed over the paintings. "you know," you murmured. "i never really had fond memories with wilbur."

‎ ‎ ‎you had never told anyone of your past experiences with the man, being too scared of being called a liar or saying that you were wrong. wilbur was a man of great charm and charisma, traits he knew how to use to gain what he wants. you knew this first hand, having been on the receiving side of the anger he never showed the public.

‎ ‎ ‎ghostbur was quite for a moment, causing you to look over at him. he seemed deep in thought, eyes nearly wide with a nearly upset look crossing his face. "are you alright?" you asked him, concerned. it would be understandable if he didn't like talking about wilbur, having been the ghost of said man.

‎ ‎ ‎"oh yes, i'm fine! can you tell me about your memories with alivebur?" he asked, looking over at you questionably. you nodded, sitting down on the couch, to where the ghost followed. he sat beside you, almost a little too close for comfort, but he did seem obvious so you chose to let it slide.

‎ ‎ ‎you told ghostbur everything. about how wilbur was a creep. how you suspected he was stalking you. how he had been possessive of you. how you saw a side of wilbur that was never shown to the public. how you never liked him. how wilbur was a deranged man.

‎ ‎ ‎he listened to you quietly, not talking as he stared down at his lap. as you were finished talking, going to ask him if he was okay, he sighed. he shook his head, tsking at you. this was different. confused you scooted away from him, brows furrowed. he only looked up at you, grinning.

‎ ‎ ‎"was my disguise that good?"

‎ ‎ ‎your mouth ran dry. your hands trembled, trembled with fear of the danger lurking in his voice. the madness glinting in his eyes. was this ghostbur? no, this couldn't be. as you stared at him in disbelief, shock coating his features, something started happening. he was melting?

‎ ‎ ‎the grey skin, along with the yellow sweater and beanie, melted off of him. it was like slime dripping, coating your couch in the gooey substance. it disgusted you, how it melted into a puddle of grey just below him. but that was the least of your problem, as the disguise had melted, something sinister lurked below.

‎ ‎ ‎it was wilbur.

‎ ‎ ‎unmistakably, it was wilbur soot.

‎ ‎ ‎the brown hair that bunched up, the dull red beanie atop his head, the brown trenchcoat that coated his features. you backed away, horrified. standing up, you tried to run, yet he only laughed. a sickening laugh that made you stop in place, eyes wide with fear. your feet were glued to the floor, unable to move despite your door beckoning you to run.

‎ ‎ ‎the crazed look in the mans expression would be one you would never forget. he laughed maniacally, grin wide with unmasked enthusiasm. "you really thought it was ghostbur!? that little punk, yeah? you thought wrong, sweetheart!" he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls, surrounding your every direction, making it impossible to escape.

‎ ‎ ‎who knew you would be trapped inside your own house?

‎ ‎ ‎you could hardly find the words to talk, the phrases getting stuck in your throat as you simply shook your head. it couldn't be wilbur. why was he here? how was he here? the man, who you previously believed to be ghostbur, had been inside your house. you had ranted to him on your troubles with his alive state, unaware he was the one you were speaking to.

‎ ‎ ‎"you- how? how are you - how are you here?" you mustered out, your voice weak. you could barely make them out, quiet and frail. he laughed once more, throwing his head back with unfiltered euphoria. he was so joyous, so content with watching you fall apart in front of him. watching you break down was what he wanted.

‎ ‎ ‎"i always come back, sweetheart, you should know this." he said, smirking devilishly. he walked to you, triumph yelling with every step he took. you backed away as he came closer, fearfully backing away from the brunette until your back hit a wall. alarm coursed through you, desperately trying to look around for a way to leave, a way to escape the misery that would soon come.

‎ ‎ ‎he stalked up to you, stopping in front of you. he was even more terrifying up closer. the broad shoulders and the looming shadow over your figure terrifying you more than anything ever had. "sweetheart!" the pet name rolled off of his tongue, almost in a sing song tone. you hadn't even noticed the tears running down your face until he wiped them away.

‎ ‎ ‎"don't cry, don't cry," wilbur muttered, pulling you closer to him, bringing your scared form into his chest. you tensed, worry clear in your figure as you tried to fight back. you tried to pull away, muttering how you didn't want this. you didn't want wilbur to touch you, to hold you as if he was someone special to you. "why do you keep trying to pull away from me?"

‎ ‎ ‎once you had finally pulled away from him, you looked at him in the eyes. you were still backed up against a wall, knowing your end was nearer than you thought. you glared at him one last time, choosing to pick fight over flight, and spit in his face.

‎ ‎ ‎"fuck you, wilbur soot."

‎ ‎ ‎blood splattered on the walls seconds later.

[kurosstuff]

A/N: so here's a donna x reader thing I thought of!! Also the reader is a maiden a head maid to be more exact- made the header with the only pic that DIDN'T come out terribly??? Idk how the fuck to make them?? Its- technically first pov but isnt exactly written that way idk man I'm dumb

Warning(s): blood, angie swears because I say so. Goes into slight depth of a small injury. FEMALE READER, panic attack(s) SPOILERS!! AND ANGST- this isnt a nice fic. It's not even close haha(but I changed some stuff around to make more sense so fuck you♡)

Donna Beneviento x F!reader: Right place. Wrong time

Parties sucked. Being a handmaid was fun and all but the biggest downside is you have to attend these.. events? You weren't entirely sure what they were but Lady Dimitrescu was very clear on you attending to assist her and the other lords during this time

"I swear if it weren't for Mother Miranda" Lady Dimitrescu spat out at the drunken fool-no her brother? You weren't actually sure what he was to her but they acted like siblings. Mother Miranda help anyone who asks- last person who did landed in the cellar "I would have kicked you out." Taking a drag from her cigarette. Leaning down and blowing into his face making the man start yelling as Moreau hide behind the table yet again-unless he wished to be dragged into the fight as well as he usually did during this time

If it weren't for two things happening with you. You'd probably laugh. But with how many villagers there are-the ones who hurt you. Your anxiety was racing. Even worse when the lord-no the women you were very interested in was here as well. The mysterious women dressed in all black as usual, Donna Beneviento and her doll companion, Angie by her side looking around frantically at all the new people. Jumping up and down excitedly

Deep breath...

Deep.. breath..

Turning you started out the door. Thankfully being the head maid you wouldn't exactly get in trouble with an extent of course(also helped the fact the lady and her daughters were well aware of your anxiety and were surprisingly kind about it?). As you moved you were unaware of a pair of painted eyes glancing at you before turning to another

-

The cool breeze in the air calmed you as you roamed around the garden. If it weren't for the weather it would have been such a beautiful sight. Well more then it was. Dispite the chilly air as winter was just rolling around the corner. The indication of it creeping up a bit closer with the speaks of ice and snow arounding around and on the flowers. Personally decorating then with their own weather, the crunch under your feet became louder as you got farther away from everyone

"So this is where you went?" A voice called out behind you, stiffening in response you could only hope for the best as you turned-half expecting one of the sisters, but you knew better then to assume that-if it was they'd have bitten you gently-as they could-before dragging you off somewhere

Turning around your assumption was proven correct. Standing infront of you was a small porcelain doll, odd colors painted on but overall handled with such care-you stared in awe before remembering yourself. Kneeling down a bit infront of the doll you smiled

"Why, hello Lady Angie" you started with a smile-watching the mock of a shock on her face, her mouth a gap more then it was before "would you like something?" Speaking softly to ensure not upsetting the doll if you even could? You weren't sure but you've heard that she had a temper of sorts on her

With a mock scuff Angie threw her hands in the air happily "ooo! 'Lady'? Can't remember the last person to call me that seriously" with a scratchy giggle she bounced around you happily. Almost intrigued with you "and what do I want? Hmm" she stopped infront of you again crossing her wooden arms in thought

"Walk with me"

She spoke suddenly after a moment rushing off you in tow- before her foot caught the long dress of hers. Almost sending her falling if you didn't grab her hoisting her up in your arms suddenly. Standing frozen for a second before placing her down gently

"Sorry Lady Angie." Looking her over you nodding in note of no injuries seen on the poor doll "rude to not ask but I'm glad your alright" before looking around her again to ensure you didn't miss anything.

Angie stood head titled to her side interested, holding her arms up to you she made grabby hands like a toddler would when wanting up. "Pick me up" she ordered with a giggle, kneeling down you gently grabbed her. Picking her up you held her against her hip, almost like a mom holding a baby or a toddler it seemed to be the best choice-her reaction was a happy laugh. Pointing off to a room she nodded her head towards there

"Off we go then Lady Angie" you said, walking to the door across the wintered garden. Opening the room to show the indoor version. After all Bela-the eldest likes to do some research on them every now and again-and some of the gardening things held vegetables for the other maidens to keep them "fresh" as they said.

The greenish room should more of the vibrant colors of the objects then the snowy wind from outside. Catching your attention was the chorus of 'down's' repeatedly from the doll-who in turn was put down on the floor gently. Rushing off she called for you to join her. Following close by you couldn't help but smile at her child like nature-dispite her crazy nature, it was very enduring

Turning the corner you didn't expect to see her maker-the lady of the Beneviento house. Donna Beneviento also the same one who caught your attention from seeing her for the first time. Growing a bit flustered you bowed your head towards her-gaining a snicker from Angie who whispered-or at least seemed like it- to the veiled women. Of what? You weren't sure but it must have been something if she suddenly jolted up almost nervous like

"Hello Lady Beneviento" you responded carefully. It was obvious to anyone who sees the Lady- she seems to not be be used to being social with others, "its nice to meet you, My lady" speaking formally as you've been taught-and reprimanded for repeatedly in the past. Thankfully now it stuck

Nothing but silence filled the room. No talking. No movement even from Angie who just stared at the Lord. Your anxiety crept up even faster now, did you say something wrong?

"..WELL!" Angie suddenly jumping up bringing her wooden hand onto your pant leg pulling you forward- with such strength for such a small doll. "Come on" she tugged again annoyed like a child would if their toy was taken from them

"Give me attention!" Smiling you followed her to the smaller table you've seen before- when you first entered you never knew why the Lady would want such a small table. Now with Angie you knew why. Sitting down infront of the doll you leaned forward awkwardly in the seat

"Thank you Lady Angie" smiling at the doll like child who held a cup of 'tea' flavored air towards you with a cackle and nod-unaware of the gaze on you both from the veiled women who underneath smiled slightly at the sight

After a couple moments of playing tea, Angie's attention was stolen from a butterfly getting up and chasing after it with a yell of- profanities which you could have only assumed she learned from the other Lords. Movement was heard behind you-aware of the other women you pretended not to hear as to not scare her off

A flower crowded your vision for a moment before you took it gently. Fingers grazing across the other women's gently-ignoring the way she flinched away almost like you burned her somehow "thank you Lady Beneviento" you replayed glancing over at the veiled women who moved to sit beside you-almost so still you would has mistaken her for a statue-if not for her breathing hitching softly as a smile crossed your face. You didn't want to scare her off as she finally started to relax around you, slightly but enough

Holding the flower you looked down admiring it with a soft smile- which if you remember correctly Bela-during her studies-called it a Calla lilies. Whatever it was, it was a beautiful flower. While looking at the flower you failed to notice the one who gave it to you watched intently. Almost like she was flustered- but it was hard to talk with her veil to anyone. Anyone but Angie-who giggled behind you. Ditching the Butterfly for the scene before her. It was not only surprising that Lady Beneviento gave it to you but it also confused you as to why. Twirling it in your fingers gently you glanced up to the black veiled women "Thank you Lady Beneviento" smiling before remembering you already thanking the women-you grew slightly embarrassed from the lack of response-unsurpising as it was.

Laughing that scratchy tone-almost like a disk being scratched you drew your attention to the doll clinging to your pant leg once more "oohh~" Angie started in a tease "Donna thinks your pretty~ I can see it I guess" Angie giggled pulling at your pants for attention-if it weren't for what she said you'd compare her to Daniela for her need of almost constant attention

"What?" Was all the response you gave as the veiled women yet again stiffened in response-before abruptly standing up. Looking up at her smiling getting up as well. Angie curling herself around your leg like that of a cat against their scratching post, the Lady before you stopped almost as if debating something before turning and leaving hurriedly. A groan was heard as Angie unwrapped herself from you and chased after Lady Beneviento'

"Aww why can't we keep them?" Was all that you heard before they left the room. A smile grazed your face at the comment. It wouldn't be all that bad to be a maid for the two Ladies. You looked at the flower in your hand unaware of the glowing yellow eyes watching with a knowing smile.

-

A loud call of your name rang through the building loudly- the same way it was usually used for a certain sister. Gulping the lump down you straightened your outfit as best you could to be at least somewhat presentable, the flower safely in the pocket of your front shirt poking out.

Rushing down the hallway hastily while making sure not to make it seem like your running. Getting to the lady of the castle while running from one of her daughters? Yeah not that fun. The memory of the incident where you did accidentally set one of then off thinking you were trying to run away. Rubbing the scar on your wrist shivering at the thought.

Yeah. Not again.

Rounding the corner to the front of the manor your Lady and Lady Beneviento stood almost like they were waiting for something, or someone. A loud snicker brought your attention to Angie who stated up at you, bowing your head at them respectfully-thankfully remember the first rule anyone would know

Rule 1- don't look at any of the Lord's until they gave you some sort of signal(you technically broke it? But they either didnt care or mind)

Lady Dimitrescu placed a single hand on your shoulder sending a tingle of fright and anticipation through you "I will be giving you my own head maid, Donna dear" she started nodding in your direction giving you a odd smile-almost knowing? Of something "to help around your home" with that decided-it was clear she would not be changing her mind. Not that you'd want her to either

"Oo! We get the pretty lady?" Angie giggled loudly making her run around you in circles chanting something along the lines of "Pretty!" And "tea partner" smiling softly at her, Beneviento tensed up in embarrassment at the thought of you in her home. But accepted none the less

Calling out your name as you all got ready to finally leave. You turned to your former Lord "Now" she started giving you a stern look "be on your best behavior. Treat her right." Placing a hand on your arm her nails slowly turning to claws before turning back to normal. Like a warning

-

Entering Beneviento's home you noted how.. homie it really was. Like a normal house minus the dolls around. Some on shelves others on random chests or just sprawled on the floor.

Smiling like a little kid on Christmas you let a small "woah" as you glanced around the Lady of the house watching you intently as you neared one of her dolls, a defensive one who attacked if an unknown/violent person enters in her home on instinct without her command. Nibbling her lip nervously under her veil she hoped you would grow uninterested in the doll.

She was wrong

"This is so cool!" You escalated getting way to close for everyone in the room. The other dolls stared worry surrounding them from their Mothers nerves being shot. The doll sprung to life-a sharp intake from Beneviento, Angie moved to get you away, She slammed her eye shut. Awaiting the scream of pain to come out. The blood. But nothing came. Slowly she opened to see what could only be a silent but swift kill.

Her mouth opened in shock. You held the doll gently in your hands-it didn't even try to harm you just stared curiously at you, "I'm assuming you made this as well m'lady?" With a tilt of your head you sent a smile her way. Shock and disbelief was all she felt-even Angie was stumped about this.

"W.." for the first time since she first learned to talk. Angie was at a lose for words. "Well of course you dummy!" She just as quickly regained her ability. With a nod of your head you placed the doll where it leapt from gently smoothing out its outfit and you moved back. Hands on your hips before turning to face the two once again

"Well I think its cute!" The dolls around the surrounding area chattered excitedly, their mother stood yet again stumped. They obviously liked you-and she had no idea what to do about it.

She ignored the giggle of Angie who stared at her knowingly.

-

That started your new routine.

Everyday you woke up, changed. Accompany Angie around to clean as she entertained(teased) you. Everynow and again one of the Dollmakers dolls that are capable of walking yet have no speak or full will of their own like Angie would pop up and just stare at you. Or follow you. But if you looked at then they'd run off

So that made you have another rule.

Rule 2- if one of her dolls pop up don't look at them depending on who they are, and if you see them politely smile and wave. Do not engage unless they do.

It seemed like almost everyone in the house liked you to some extent. Almost everyone. You knew the Lady Beneviento at least somewhat liked you even during the small times of seeing her.

Yet during the last couple of weeks you barely saw the Lady of the house herself. Just at breakfast through Dinner. When you bring the food in she brought the tea. She refused to let you make it- Angie said something about how that's her favorite thing(and only thing) she cooked. All the other times you assumed she had little to no interest in you.

That all changed when one day you drew her attention to you even more then you unknownly had.

While cutting the bread you glanced up watching Angie as she ran around the small room, in awe about how life like she was, even after the amount of times you've seen it and heard it- she acted like a child- it was heartwarming but it was still a surprise. "Fuck" you hissed moving your hand away from the knife, in your obviousness you accidentally cut your thumb. Some specks of blood. Looking up from the deafening silence Angie was frozen in the middle of the room staring at you mouth agape. As usual you imagined if she was truly alive you wondered if she'd outright laugh

Which she did. And to your horror mimicked you

"Fuck" Angie copied gleefully. 'Oh no' was all you could think of as you rushed to her "FUCK!!" She yelled out louder then the last

"No no Lady Angie please" you attempted to calm her. What if Lady Beneviento heard? Would she be mad? Or find this funny? You were almost scared to find out "don't say that word please" at that she froze before slowly turning her attention to you

If this was anyone else. Like for example the daughters you served at your time in the Dimitrescu castle you'd be dead right about now. That's when it finally settled in. You just gave an order. To one of the lords. And if not the most unpredictable one at that considering how out of the ordinary she is. They all were in their own sense but Angie is arguably a very very unpredictable doll. If you weren't already worried out of your mind, you are now

"Um-" you started before she floated close to your face frozen. It was a couple minutes. Long painful silence. If it weren't for this situation that was happening admiring the work done on the doll would have been something you would have been doing

"Fuck" she giggled making a deep sigh of breath you held in this moment. "Hehe~" laughing that weird laugh of hers rushing off leaving you alone in the living room. Around dolls that seemed to pierce daggers into you much harsher then usual. Like Donna knew what you just taught Angie that. Like she saw

But.. she couldn't have. She's in the basement.. right?

-

That night Angie still said the word and laughed like the 9 year old? You guessed? She was, but never said it infront of her mom. Thank god for that. But.. that didn't last long either

"Motherfucker" was the first thing you heard leaving your room. Looking at the small doll in question who just giggled at your shocked expression "you are a motherfucker" before rushing off laughing

"WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT?" you yelled after Angie who in turn laughed even harder in horror you tried to wrap your mind around it. Did you say that? No. You're 50% sure you didn't say that word yet. At least not here

Standing in the hallway for a moment. Someone was behind you watching frozen not at you telling but at the young dolls profanity. Turning around you saw the one person you hoped wouldn't see or HEAR anything.

"L-Lady Beneviento!" You exclaimed bowing your head down harshly, "sorry about that I don't know where she heard that from" hoping to Mother Miranda she wasn't mad.

Silence.

A ear piercing silence surrounded you both in the hallway before the sound of a chuckle-then a deep soft laugh escaped the veiled women in front of you. Bringing her hand under her veil to probably whip away tears she probably had escape from how hard she laughed. Standing in shock at the scene infront of you-growing flustered before a smile crept on your face.

You could only hope you'd hear that lovely sound again.

"...thank you" a hoarse voice so soft you had to hold your breath to hear it clearly. It was even more apparent that she hardly spoke to anyone if it was that hoarse. But it was still the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. A smile crept up your face as your heart swelled in happiness. "Donna." She interpreted your thoughts making you blink in confusion

"Call me Donna"

-

After a couple of months you and the two Ladies of the house got closer. Angie followed you around like a duck yelling profanities or teasing you about your crush on her mom- that she somehow figured out. Just like now.

"Donna and Y/N sitting in a tree" Angie sang, dancing around the coffee table. Donna sitting next to you drinking a cup of tea under her veil "K-I-S-S-I-N-G" Angie spoke making the veiled women spit the tea out onto the table and the surrounding area.

"ANGIE" You yelled flustered but chuckling at the exaggerated reaction from Donna who was frantically whipping the spilled tea off of herself. Leaning over with a napkin you helped a bit

Silence filled the room when Angie ran out laughing the only slight of sound was the tick from the clock which sat above the door to the living room. Tapping the table you glanced at the time, realizing what the time was you jumped up catching Donna off guard

"Oh! Donna I have to see the Duke" you spoke looking away unaware of frozen panicked state. You hadn't left the house since the day you moved in, so you weren't aware of the jar, unaware of the village's state. Unaware of everything. With a gulp behind the veil the one thing that mostly plagued her mind.

What if you left?

What if you saw what she helped do and left her? Forever?

She couldn't deal with another lose- especially not you. Looking back you smiled at her gently, grabbing her hands gently rubbing the too with the palm of your thumb "I'll be back. I promise. I won't ever leave you or Angie, Donna I swear it"

Taking a deep shaky breath Donna nodded her head. "Alright. Just... don't be gone too long ok?" Donna begged-Hopeing it wouldn't seem too desperate- if it was you'd never comment on it.

"Of course" you promised.

-

The trip to the Duke wasn't easy nor was it too hard, bumps and bruises here and there. But in the end it will be worth it.

"Ah, the young helper from Lady Beneviento's correct?" The Duke spoke allowed rolling out of no where- you'd never figure out how he could do that. Or how the single horse could pull such a big guy either. A large grin appeared on your face

"Duke! Hey what's up?" Going over towards his shop you looked around a bit "it's been a bit quiet hasn't it?" The Duke froze turning towards you looking as you gushed over some of his items. A smile suddenly came onto his face

"Ah yes" he cleared his throat "I believe their planning on some..celebration of some sort for the Lords. And Mother Miranda of course" he concluded

"Ah, that makes sense!" Before you would say anything else something caught your attention. A single flower. A rose. If you could remember from the many books-and studies with Angie it means "Love" pointing to the rose "I would like to buy that one please" you spoke the Duke following your gaze and smiled softly

"Ah, a beautiful rose for a beautiful lord, my dear. Perfect choice" pulling out a couple more then just the single you assumed he'd pick he held them out to you gently, before you could pull your coin pouch out he held a hand to stop. "It's on the house, dear. You don't owe me anything"

"Oh! Well.. thank you Duke" smiling you took the Rose's gently in your hand turning and rushing off, rubbing the scar on your wrist in nervousness. The Duke watched in silence- he could only hope you'd stay safe looking back in his shop at the three statues he concluded- life isn't that fair nor kind to anyone.

-

Holding the flowers tightly so you wouldn't drop them yet gently so it wouldn't break, you smiled gently, today is the day, you were finally going to tell Donna how you felt. How much she meant to you.

Rushing up the trail to the house you couldn't help but shiver, a slightly unnerving shiver-almost cold. Obviously worried about the whole confessing thing. With a rub of your wrist you gulped deeply, biting your lip slightly-Donna would never cast you away for how you felt-she wasn't like that...

Right?

The closer you got to the door as it came into view, the more worried you became, walking around the sprawled out dolls around you took a deep breath and opened the door

"Donna. Angie I'm back!" You called out

Silence

Nothing came back. No quick pitter patter from the wooded feet of Angie sprinting towards you. Gulping down the lump in your throat you clutched the flowers a bit tighter still being mindful of how much strength you put in it.

The doll room! That must be were they are, walking around the couch you started down the hall before you froze everything happened in slow motion. The flowers falling, the white red speaks appearing in your eyes.

"No..."

The scream that pierced out of your throat in horror. Anguish and grief. The bloodied body of Donna laid on the floor Angie beside her. Blood pooled around them, it was obviously Donna's and by the looks of it- it stopped pouring out. Dropping to your knees with a heavy thonk-you ignored the pain in then. The static in your ears as blood rushed from your face. Bringing Donna's head onto your lap. You shook her gently

"Donna" you started tears rushing down harsh against your cheeks-all you saw was the blurrier vison of the women you loved "wake up" you begged shaking her yet again. Trying desperately to ignore the painfully obvious dull in her eye as her veil moved slightly, before you on instinct moved it to cover her whole face.

"Don't leave me" sobbing harshly you brought her closer as you shook. "I" gulping down the sob from your horse throat "I love you, please don't leave me alone"

"Please. Come back"

All you got was silence

Then another scream

[parkers-gal]

yay! okay so I was thinking, what I'd the reader and Tom had a fight, could be over anything, but the reader was pregnant and a few years after, they bump into each other and they get back together. Sorry if it doesn't make sense.

this has been sitting in my inbox for a fat couple of months… sorry 😭

wc: 1.7k ! <3

—

“No, because you’re selfish and you can’t handle the fact that my life doesn’t revolve around you and your needs.” Tom spits out the words angrily, viciously, voice harsh and crisp.

You’re both frustrated beyond belief, and the bubble that had been overblown had finally popped, splattering your relationship and all the joyful aspects of it. Right now, you felt as if all that was left was the toxicity of two unbearable people who happened to love each other. You knew, deep down, that you loved each other enough to get through this, but with every passing moment, with every exchanged word, you realized at least one of you wouldn’t survive the damage.

“No, Tom. You’re selfish. You’re conceited and you only care about being a goddamn movie star. What happened to the family man, huh? What happened to staying tied down with me and your brothers?”

“Nothing happened to him! I’m still that person. I am a family guy.”

“Not to me, you aren't.”

“Well you’re not family!” He seethes through his teeth, anger radiating off of his short-tempered demeanor. You don’t even know how to react, so you spend the time soaking in the situation and how you should respond instead of actually doing it.

“You’re a fucking jackass. I asked when I could spend time with you and now you don’t even consider me as part of the family.”

“No,” He’s clear and concise even through the anger. “You asked when I’m going to stop living my life.”

“I said no such thing.”

“You didn’t have to! We both know that’s what you meant.”

“You’re not even on the same page as me anymore,” You scoff, arms crossing. “Seems like all this time in Hollywood made you forget that you’re not always the main character.”

“Fuck that, Y/N! Fuck! That!”

“No, Tom. Fuck. You.” You over-express your emotions, and after two more minutes of unbearable silence and screaming, he’s leaving your apartment just as fast as he arrived. You’re in shock, fingers shaking while you clear your throat, which is frayed and sore from all the yelling.

You sit back, elbows on your knees while your hands smoothen out your forehead. Tear after tear escapes your sobbing body, and eventually, you fall asleep on the couch.

In the weeks to come, you’ve realized the blow-out of a breakup could’ve been handled so much differently, but Tom hasn’t seemed to cool down at all — he’s petty enough to unfollow you on all social media, and you figure it’s time to let the hatred be mutual. You don’t touch your imessages, however, letting the love in those texts linger for a little longer.

Before you know it, you’re throwing up into the toilet boil, coughing violently at the action and spitting the bitter taste as best you can. You clean up, and when you check your phone, a small notification from your period tracker app alerts you that this is the second period in a row that has gone by without a hello.

Worried, you call Aisha, your closest friend and confidant. She’s over in no time, bringing along her girlfriend while you rant on the phone about your worries. They stop at the drugstore on the way.

The cause of your problems is discovered that day, and you collapse on the bathroom floor in agony, hands wiping at your face — through all the anger and fear and worry, you still love Tom. So much that Aisha even attempts to call Tom. But, alas, it’s sent straight to voicemail, and you realize he might’ve gone to extreme extents in blocking everyone.

You’re stuck going to the ultrasound with two lesbians and a frail old cat. Aisha is as supportive as ever, but as the doctor explains the process of each option, you feel sicker and sicker about the idea of getting rid of the fetus. In the end, you choose to keep the child you’re bearing, even if your ex-lover isn’t even in the picture.

Inevitably, the months pass, and as baby Charlie is brought into the wonderful world, you realize life as a single mother isn’t as scary as you thought it would be. In the first few months of your pregnancy, you’d kept tabs on what film Tom was doing and which was coming out next, but after the hormones and cravings, you’d decided to let the past sizzle and fade out in the way it was meant to all along.

It’s been almost three years since that fateful breakup, and Charlie is just reaching two and a half years old. You’re still single, and you’re okay with that. Charlie is all you need, all you’ve ever wanted, and the most important thing in your life. He’s young, and school is still a couple years away, but you enjoy having the toddler by your side, walking hand in hand with you because you’re his guardian, his provider, his only parent. You make him your only priority, because you don’t want him to grow up without anyone to love, or anyone to love him.

It’s hard, though. It’s hard because he’s a constant reminder of what didn’t happen, a constant reminder of what went wrong and of what you no longer have. You miss Tom more than words can express, and Charlie’s mop of brown curls reminds you of all the moments you’d run your fingers through Tom’s hair. You reminisce more than you’d like to, about Tom and your past, and though Charlie is technically half of the Brit, he’s one hundred percent yours. Because you’re the only one here, and that’s alright.

“Mummy,” Charlie tugs on your shirt’s hem while you move the shopping cart forward through the aisle. “Can we get the goldfish with superheroes?”

You jutt your lip out in a smile, nodding happily. “Of course we can, bub.”

As you step forward, you pit stop in the aisle, nearly tripping on the cart. You make direct eye contact with the man you used to love with your entire heart. The man who walked out with your heart and never gave it back. He’s staring right back at you, curls looking as fluffy as ever, face still a soft glow. Your breath hitches, and it’s then that you realize Charlie is still talking.

“Mummy?” He asks, and it’s just loud enough for Tom to hear. Harry, who’s beside Tom with an arm full of crackers and chips. Tom moves forward a few steps, hastily in an attempt to get more information.

“Uh, hi,” His smile is tight lipped as he stands at the other end of your shopping cart. Charlie shies away from strangers, standing behind your leg and holding your shirt with his grubby hands.

“Hi,” you return his awkward, reserved demeanor.

“Mummy who’s this?”

“‘Mummy?’” Tom has a follow up question for everything, and you internally panic, unsure on how to approach this.

You’d spent so long deciding how you should tell Tom that he was a dad. You spent hours debating on if you should pick up the phone or drive over just to tell him a truth you’ve kept inside for so long. You’ve abandoned social media, only sharing aspects of your life you can afford to post. Charlie is only occasionally on your page, but it’s not like Tom would see that, not after all that’s happened.

Your mouth opens and closes while you debate on how to reply. You’re physically incapable of saying your response, and it makes you even more nervous. You’re nervous on how he might react, what he’ll say, but most importantly, if he’ll stay.

“Is this…?

“My kid…” You fill in. “I- I mean our… our kid.” You pull your bottom lip between your rows of teeth, and you watch as Tom’s face undergoes thousands of expressions all at once. He’s surprised, shocked, happy, afraid, uncertain. You want the world to swallow you whole, suck you up so you don’t have to go through any of this again. But you don’t. Instead, you hold Charlie’s hand a little tighter.

“Our kid?” He drops a can of soup and you flinch at the loud noise.

“Mummy, who’s that?”

“That’s…” You don’t know how to answer his question. Instead, you lean down to his level, comfortingly and gently. “He’s a man.”

“Who’s that man?”

“He’s… your daddy.”

“I thought… no daddy?”

You purse your lips and furrow your brows. Tom’s watching the entire encounter from his place, but after a few beats, he steps forward, entering your bubble. Charlie doesn’t cower away this time, but looks up in curiosity.

“Hi, Charlie,” Tom extends his hand, adjusting his jeans so he can lean down just as you are, kneeling beside the young boy.

You look down, avoiding your worries and Tom’s gaze. He’s tearing up, and you want to cry too. You’re in a fucking supermarket, for god’s sake. This wasn’t how you envisioned any of this planning out, and though you’re mentally kicking yourself for letting it happen this way, you can’t help but feel like maybe this was meant to be. Written in the stars or whatever the folks say — you’re just grateful Charlie has at least a sliver of hope for two parents. Not that you can’t handle it, because you can, but you know someone like Tom wouldn’t want to miss something as important as this.

“I’m To- I’m…” He swallows thickly, making brief eye contact with you before looking back at Charlie. “I’m your dad.”

“Do you love my mummy?” He’s not shameless, but he’s still that shy little boy. “My friend says daddy’s love mommy’s so you must love mine, right?”

Tom lets a tear fall while he exhales a chuckle. He swipes the drop with the tips of his fingers, and the hand gripping Charlie’s squeezes it a little tighter. A glance in your direction is all it takes for him to answer Charlie’s question. “Yeah, buddy. I do.”

want more? my masterlist.

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th + pp taglist: @spideyspeaches @strawberrytom (no smut) @turtletaylor98 @parkerpeterparker2004 @peterbenjiparker @kelieah​

permanent taglist: @mayrapreciado20​ @tomhollandlol @roseke​ @supremethunda​ @wonderfulfluffer​ @farfromtommy​ @mamaparker28​ (no smut/tw) @pxxerfect​ (no smut) @seutarose @pixiedustsupplyco​ @itssmadelyn​ @white-wolf1940​ @woopwoopwoop222 @chrisosterfield​ (no tw)

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[t0wnspersonb]

Day Off (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

Word Count: 2,158

Warnings: FLUFF, bad language, suggestive language, my shit writing lmao

Summary: You hardly ever got to spend time with your husband, so when he has a day off, well, your heart can’t help but be entirely full. Especially when you see him interacting with your children.

~~~~

Anonymous said:

Hello💜💜 I was wondering if you could make an fluff/smut imagine about where Bakugou where the reader is his beloved wife they both have kids and just shows how their daily lives are. Btw I’m a huge fan of your imagines🥰

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I hope you enjoy this request anon! I didn’t do smut this time around, but here is some fluffy papa Bakugou for you! Also thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so glad you like my shit writing lol.

I always enjoy writing fluffy shit like this lmao. I love Bakugou with all my fucking heart and I hope you guys enjoy this too!

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You loved your family, you would do anything for them, the unconditional love that you held in your heart was something that would never be questioned.

 But sometimes, you loved your alone time just a tad bit more.

 Like now. 

 The house was clean, the house was quiet; and you actually got to enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee, fresh and incredibly delicious for your sleep deprived senses.

 You were an early riser, maybe it was because of all the morning training and runs that Bakugou had forced you to do when you guys were younger, or maybe it was because when you had kids you had realized that there just wasn’t enough time in the day to get everything done. 

 Quite possibly it was the latter.

 But everything was done, the laundry, the dishes, sweeping and mopping, you had gone to the grocery store yesterday, a surprisingly pleasant trip since the kids were actually behaving for once.

 You owe it to your husband, who had gotten off of his hero duties early yesterday and had helped you around the house, and he was off today.

 The first time in a long time.

 You probably should’ve lingered in your shared bed just a little longer, you hardly had alone time with the explosion hero as it was, but… you had been dying to read the new book that you had gotten weeks ago. Bakugou could handle waking up alone for one day, right?

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You shit nerd, how long have you been doing this?” his familiar gruff voice sighed from the entrance of the living room.

 You glanced up from your book, a small smile tugging at your lips as you took in his sleepy figure.

 Bakugou’s blonde hair was even more disheveled, his sweats hung low on his hips, one of his large hands was underneath his shirt, absentmindedly scratching at the skin that stretched across his sculpted stomach.

 You took a lot of pleasure in the fact that you got to see the most popular pro hero so domestic, so casual.

 His ring caught the morning light streaming through the window, glinting beautifully as he stretched out his muscular arms above his head, his shirt rising up, exposing the lower half of his stomach to your greedy eyes. His biceps bulged out beautifully against the sleeves of his shirt.

 You also took pleasure in just staring at your husband, that beautiful specimen of a man was all yours.

 “What time is it?” you asked. 

 “Almost 9.” 

 “Hmmm. Since 4:30 then?” You pondered, placing your bookmark between the pages, and closing the book completely, placing it on the coffee table.

 Bakugou made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as he padded off towards the kitchen.

 You laughed softly to yourself, following after the muscular male. 

 “Stop fucking staring at me.” Bakugou grumbled, vermilion eyes sliding over to you briefly as he drank down his glass of water.

 “Can’t a wife just look at her husband?” you asked innocently, he walked over to you, his hands coming down on either side of your face, squeezing your cheeks together tightly.

 “Not when the wife ditches her husband in the morning to read a stupid fucking book.” he sneered.

 You laughed, grabbing at his much larger hands, and pulling them away from your face.

 “I’m sorry Katsu, what can I do to make it up to you?” you teased lightly.

 You shouldn’t have asked.

 A wicked smirk stretched across his face. “Get on your knees.” his voice was husky, commanding as he stared at you, daring you to challenge him.

 You could feel your lips part at his words, a pink blush beginning to dust your cheeks.

 It had been a long time since you -

 “Mama?” 

 The moment was gone completely, the wide smirk that Bakugou wore turned into a deep scowl.

 “Good morning baby.” you cooed turning to look at your small child. He was the spitting image of Bakugou, but he was the sweetest boy, completely unlike his father.

 He rubbed at his small eyes before they landed on Bakugou, a sweet smile stretching across his face. 

 “Papa. Up.” he held out his little arms, urging Bakugou to pick him up.

 You could see the scowl visibly melting away from Bakugou’s face, replaced with a gentle one as he gazed at his son. 

 It was hard for Bakugou, being able to spend time with his children, despite how rough he was, how crude his words could be; he was a wonderful father, a wonderful husband.

 You were entirely lucky.

 Bakugou easily swung his child up into his muscular arms. Your son sighing in happiness as he rests his head against Bakugou’s broad shoulders, his thumb coming up to rest between his lips.

 The sight of the two of them together melted your heart completely, clenching tightly in your chest as Bakugou pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your son’s head.

 “Papa’s home today?” Another familiar voice spoke. You turned to see your daughter staring at Bakugou in curiosity.

 She was the oldest, and the spitting image of you, except… well her personality was entirely her father’s.

 “Why don’t you guys go watch some cartoons while I get breakfast started?” you hummed.

 “Come on you shit stain.” Bakugou ruffled his daughter’s hair, urging her out of the kitchen into the living room.

 You and your daughter frowned, you at the fact that he just called your child a shit stain, and her because he messed up her already messy hair.

 “Your breath smells like shit Papa.” your daughter said, tone annoyed as she shoved his hand away from her head.

 You sighed tiredly, hand resting on the side of your face.

 “Oi, you aren’t allowed to curse.” Bakugou scolded, a large tick mark appearing on his forehead and he grabbed your daughter’s head pushing her out of the kitchen.

 You could hear their loud bickering fading into the living room, causing you to sigh deeply once again. 

 But a smile twitched on your lips, it had been a long time since you guys got to enjoy the morning together like this.

 When you had finally finished cooking breakfast you went to go grab the rest of your family. 

 Your heart melted at the sight. Bakugou held both kids in his arms, your children looking incredibly small as they cuddled up against their father.

 Despite the fact that your eldest and Bakugou always fought, she was a daddy’s girl through and through. Bakugou’s fingers combed through her unruly hair absentmindedly, while his other hand rubbed up and down your son’s back.

 Their eyes were glued to the TV as some anime played.

 You cleared your throat, all three pairs of eyes flickering to your form. 

 “Breakfast is ready.” you smiled, watching as your little girl climbed off of Bakugou padding past you towards her seat in the kitchen. Bakugou lifted up your son, easily carrying him into the kitchen and setting him down on his highchair.

 “What should we do today?” you mused as you guys began eating, Bakugou was feeding your son, making a disgusted face when he spit the food back out.

 “I need new shoes for school mama.” Your daughter said, mouth full of food.

 Bakugou made another disgusted face, handing your daughter a napkin.

 “Wipe your face brat, and don’t talk with your mouth full.” He lectured. 

 “Can we go to the park today?” her eyes lit up, ignoring her father completely as she tossed the crumpled-up napkin at his face.

 “Don’t throw shit at me! Don’t ignore me either!” he growled, a tick mark appearing on his face once again.

 “I’m trying to talk to mama, and you keep interrupting, annoying papa.” she snapped back.

 You sighed. “No fighting you two. We should be able to go to the mall today....” you trailed off, trying to remember if there was anything important you had to do today.

 “I need more workout shirts, and new training gloves. Damn Deku borrowed mine and never returned them.” Bakugou said gruffly.

 “Then I guess we can all go on a trip today.” you smiled. “Let’s finish up and start getting ready.”

 ****

 You almost forgot what it was like to bring the entire family out, it had been too long since the last time you guys did something like this.

 Needless to say, you were already exhausted.

 It took forever to get everyone out of the house. Bakugou did his best to help get the kids ready but… between the constant fighting with him and your daughter and your son's endless crying about not wanting to go and not wanting to put on pants, and Bakugou’s attempts at intimacy as you got ready... well, you wanted to get this over with already.

 “What do you think?” your daughter asked, pointing her toe out, the Uravity themed shoes on full display for you.

 “Very pretty, do you want those ones?” you asked. 

 She nodded excitedly.

 “Why do you want round face’s shoes? Why not mine?” Bakugou grumbled, staring down at his daughter accusingly.

 “Yours are ugly papa. I don’t like the colors. Uravity is my favorite hero.” She said face blank as she stared at the blonde male.

 This was definitely a sight to see, considering that Bakugou had your son perched on his hip and he was glaring down at the small girl who was glaring right back at him.

 “Huh? Ground Zero isn’t your favorite hero?” he barked.

 “No. Uravity is.”

 “Well mama’s favorite hero is Ground Zero.” He smirked, eyes flickering over to you.

 “Actually, Red Riot is my favorite hero.” You teased, soft laughter escaping your lips as your husband’s face fell at the mention of his best friend.

 “Let’s go over here!” Your daughter said excitedly, the conversation completely abandoned as she took sight of the toy store across from the shoe store you guys were at.

 “Hold on. I still have to pay.” you said in amusement, walking over to the cashier.

 Bakugou stood next to you, one of his large hands resting on the small of your back. When you had finished paying and began trailing after your excited daughter, he leaned in close.

 “You’re getting punished for saying that.” Bakugou growled near your ear. 

 “Is that a promise?” you challenged, ignoring the blush in your cheeks and the pleasant twist that occurred in the pit of your stomach.

 “You can count on it.” he growled, a smirk playing on his lips before he walked off to catch up with your daughter.

 You were definitely looking forward to it.

 ****

 You sighed loudly as you sat down on the park bench. 

 “Here.” Bakugou handed you one of the drinks he got from the vending machine, his eyes never leaving his children that were now playing on the playground equipment.

 “Did you have fun today?” you asked, resting your head against his shoulder as he took a seat beside you.

 “No.” he snorted, and then his expression changed, his eyes softening completely, his face relaxed. “It’s been a while since we got to spend the day together.”

 His large fingers found your own, intertwining together tightly. “Thank you.”

 You glanced over at him curiously. “For what?”

 You could see a soft blush coating his cheeks. He was embarrassed. It wasn’t anything new though, you knew your husband well enough to know that he was terrible at verbally expressing his feelings. 

 “You’re a good mother, and a good wife. Thank you for always taking care of the kids… and me.” he grumbled.

 Your expression softened, your heart warming completely. It was rare when Bakugou praised you like this, again, he was terrible at expressing his feelings verbally, especially something so gentle and heartfelt like this.

 “Of course, Katsu.” you beamed at him.

 He scoffed at your expression, but reached for you, cupping the side of your face as he stooped low, pressing his mouth against yours carefully.

 You hummed low in your throat; eyes fluttering shut as you kissed him back. Sweet and gentle, incredibly warm and full of love.

 “Ew. You actually let papa do that? That’s disgusting.” You broke free from the kiss and turned to see your daughter staring at you guys in disgust. 

 You laughed softly at her comment, Bakugou on the other hand…

 “Aren’t you supposed to be watching your brother?” he asked, eyebrow twitching in annoyance.

 “No wonder Deku is the number 1 hero.” Your daughter muttered to herself before turning to walk away.

 “What the fuck did you just say you shit?” Bakugou growled, standing up and swooping down, easily throwing your daughter over his shoulders.

 She squealed loudly, contagious giggles escaping her lips as Bakugou jogged over to the playground. He scooped up your other child, swinging him around rapidly.

 A soft smile twitched at your lips as you watched them.

 You loved your little family.

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Three

Part One, Part Two -- Chrono

---------------

The house they’ve acquired has two bedrooms. They only use one.

(There’d been panic, that first night, waking up alone. He’d shaken and gasped and felt his heart beat out of his chest, unable to move until something gave. Nothing did.)

(The General had felt it, had woken up from Rex’s own panic and rushed in to remind him that he still had someone left, and Rex had snapped out of his fear and into his grief.)

(He’d bottled it back up by morning, but they didn’t sleep apart anymore.)

The bed is big enough for two people to sleep apart, if with an unfortunate tendency to smack hands across faces in one’s sleep. There’s room on the floor for the crib, and a desk in the corner that neither of them have used yet. The armoire that the house came with is beautifully crafted, but empty save for Anakin’s outer robe. What little they’ve bought so far has been for the twins, and that’s all sorted with military precision into the drawer chest.

It’s nearly first light when one of the twins start fussing. Rex had been ready to wake up anyway, and rolls out of bed before Anakin can fully come out of drowsing. He makes his way over to the shared crib, finds that it’s Leia making noise, and picks her up.

“Buir’s got you,” he mutters, carefully bouncing her as he makes his way back to the bed. He hopes, however futile it may be, that Luke won’t hear her across the room.

“Rex?” Anakin mutters, fighting his way awake.

“Go back to sleep, General, I’ve got this,” Rex tells him.

Anakin ignores him, which is patently unsurprising. The man leverages himself up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Give ‘er here.”

“General, I’ve got it,” Rex insists. “Go back to sleep.”

His general scoots back to lean against the headboard and starts tugging open his sleep shirt. “It’s been a week, Captain.”

Oh. That.

...his chest does look swollen. Rex hesitates to call them anything approaching ‘breasts,’ especially since Anakin had confirmed that he still identified as undeniably male, but there’s definitely some bulge there that wasn’t before. It’s not quite enough for the nipple to point down the way Rex is pretty sure most breastfeeding mothers’ do, but there’s something.

Rex hesitates. “Do you feel... uh, full?”

Anakin smiles, bags under his eyes. He reaches out for his daughter. “Enough to give it a try.”

When Leia is in his arms, Anakin carefully guides her little head to where she can latch on to one side. It’s a little awkward, given the aforementioned lack of heft making it point out instead of down, but she gets the hang of it after a few seconds. Anakin makes a face once the suckling starts in earnest, but rubs at Leia’s head and mutters encouragement at her nonetheless.

“Feels weird?” Rex asks, shifting back until he can lean against the headboard as well, shoulder to shoulder with his general.

“Yeah, kinda,” Anakin says. “Good weird, though. Like I’m doing something right.”

“The pamphlet mentioned that breastfeeding usually releases hormones in both the parent and child to encourage connection, right?” Rex paraphrases. “Maybe that’s it.”

“Yeah,” Anakin says.

Rex watches the man start to smile softly, an expression that’s been damned rare since this whole mess started. He’s happy for his general to find happiness in his children, if nothing else.

“You called yourself buir,” Anakin says softly, adjusting Leia a little as she hits at his chest a little. “Good.”

“You said I was family for them,” Rex says. He reaches out and brushes a finger over Leia’s cheek. He can’t help his little smile anymore than Anakin could. “So, yeah, I’m going to encourage that.”

There’s little noises coming from the crib again, soon after. Rex gets up and fetches Luke, whispers nonsense comfort at him until he gets back in the bed, and then glances at Anakin’s chest with doubt. The meaning is clear enough.

“Leia’s almost done, and they’re small,” Anakin assures him. “I can hold both. They’ll probably need a bottle later, though.”

“Not enough production capacity?”

“I’ve got twins, Rex.”

They get Luke settled easily enough, and then a few minutes later, Leia’s done.

Anakin doesn’t pass her back over immediately, just stares down, unfocused and silent.

“Sir?”

Anakin doesn’t budge.

Rex hopes this is just Force osik again. He puts a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and squeezes.

The man inhales sharply, eyes watering. “Oh.”

“General.”

“I--a vision. I don’t usually get them when I’m awake, and--oh, honey, you are going to look so much like your mother,” Anakin whispers, staring at Leia with teary adoration. “You’re going to be lovely as the stars and twice as dangerous, yes you are.”

Good things, then. They’ve had too much bad news for Rex to take this as anything other than a positive. He reaches out with both hands, and Anakin reluctantly hands a baby over.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Rex tells her, and feels Anakin hitch a wet laugh next to him. “Do you think we should let your Papa rest? I do. Let’s get you dressed for the day while he finishes up with your brother.”

“Papa?” Anakin asks wryly, adjusting Luke in his arms.

“Easier for them to say the first few years, and I liked the way it sounded when you said it a few days ago,” Rex says, shifting to his feet. “That or ‘Daddy,’ but I figured she looks like the type to say Papa.”

“Hm,” Anakin says, his eyes far away. “I guess there wasn’t... I didn’t spend much time in the creche, and nobody was really calling anyone a father.”

“Tubies,” Rex says, but doesn’t elaborate. He focuses on changing Leia into a lavender onesie, and how she glares up at him as fiercely as a rancor. Here and now, trooper. There’s lives counting on you.

“You want to change Luke while I handle breakfast?” Anakin asks, coming up behind him on too-quiet feet.

“Sounds like a plan, sir,” Rex says. He feels a hand on his elbow, and turns a shade.

“I’m stable, now,” Anakin says, quiet and guilty. “I can handle the twins for the day. Mourn your brothers, Captain.”

“I’m...” he isn’t sure how. “We need to figure out money, how we’re going to support--”

“Rex,” Anakin says, stepping closer and looking down with eyes that are just as emotionally exhausted as Rex feels. “Please. You handled things while I was out of it, so just... let me return the favor. I’m not going to break today. Let yourself have a moment.”

“I can’t, sir.”

“I could make it an order,” Anakin says quietly. “If... if that would help.”

Rex’s eyes stay fixed on his hands, still and unseeing.

“I need to repaint my armor,” he says, because it’s all he can. “But I don’t have paint.”

“What color do you need?” Anakin asks.

“Grey,” he says. “Black.”

He brushes the backs of his knuckles on Leia’s cheeks. “I’ll... keep some of the blue and white.”

The plastoid would get him laughed out of any Mandalorian bar, even now before the clone armies are a twinkle in anyone’s eye, but it’s his. And he needs to have it mean something more than just his legion. The 501st doesn’t even exist, so the colors only mean what the Mandalorians say, and--and what meaning Rex gives them.

He’s not even Mando’ade, not really.

“Rex?”

“Would you be willing to go into town with me?” Rex asks, his voice catching and cracking on the words. “When I buy the paint.”

“Of course,” Anakin says. “Do you want to go today?”

“I... yeah. That would be nice.”

“Then we’ll go today. After breakfast.”

---------------

Armor colors and meanings for Mandalorians, per Wookiepedia: Gray=Mourning a Lost Love (which I am interpreting as including non-romantic love) Black=Justice Blue=Reliability White= A New Start

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me 💖💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy! 

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him. 

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape. 

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking. 

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands. 

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red. 

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love. 

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt. 

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment. 

He nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly. 

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain. 

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier. 

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window. 

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared. 

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything. 

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Dead Or Alive - Harry Styles

a/n: oof okay hello! this is a little different, i guess? but im very excited to share this with you! don’t ask me how i got the idea for this, no clue but it was stuck in my head for days before i finally gave in and started writing it. please share your thoughts and comments on it, i would love to read them!! hope you’ll enjoy it!

pairing: Wanted!Harry x BountyHunter!Reader

warning: violence, talks of drugs, murder, guns, i really lost track of it lol

word count: 15.2k

masterlist

The man in the handcuffs growls in pain again, but you just yank him forward, not in the mood to deal with a whining girl trapped in a six feet tall disgusting looking, oily-faced bald man in his forties.

“Y/N! What do we got today?” Jeremy greets you at the front desk, thumbs hooked into his belt as he watches you tug the guy into the hall of the station, pushing him down to the nearest seat as you step to Jeremy who is already handing you the paperwork.

“Dennis Delgado. Took me a few days to find him, but he couldn’t hide forever,” you grin proudly as you grab a pen and start filling the papers out.

Jeremy walks over to Dennis who just looks up at the officer in disgust. It’s not enough that he is a child molester disgusting prick, he is racist on top of everything and now Jeremy is enjoying having the higher ground, Dennis trapped in his handcuffs while Jeremy will be the one to get him behind bars for a long time.

“Nice one. We’ll have a lot of fun with this one,” Jeremy chuckles. “Want me to ring up your brother?”

“Is he in? Would love to have a word with him,” you nod smiling. When you’re done with the papers you hand them over to Stella, the receptionist who gets to work with them right away so you can get your money.

“Sure, I’ll get him for you on my way,” Jeremy nods, grabbing Dennis by his arm, pulling him along on his way to the elevators. “Come on you scumbag, you have a cell waiting with your name on it.”

The two of them disappear and you get into a little chit-chat with Stella while she is finishing up the paperwork. Leaning against the counter you look around, officers come and go in the hall, all of them dressed in their uniform and for a moment you picture yourself wearing the same outfit. At one point in your life it seemed to be part of your future, but now it would be the most ridiculous sight. Y/N, the best bounty hunter in the region in a police uniform? That’s not happening.

The elevator dings and your brother, Robert walks out. He on the other hand, made this vision happen. He has been an officer for about ten years now and though at first he was outraged that you chose the not so gracious lifestyle of a bounty hunter, but you soon became his unofficial partner, handing him over a wanted person every few days, making his work easier. Everyone at the station knows that Robert is the one who plays by the rules, doing everything according to the handbook, the perfect officer, always working to keep up the peace in town while you are… Well, you are a rebel. You could never play by the rules, always sneaking ways to do things according to your desires. You never liked if someone wanted to tell you what to do and how to do it, you are not a team player or either one that can easily managed by higher forces. It didn’t take long for you to realize your nature will never let you be an officer so you chose the other path that’s somewhere near joining the police, but still playing by your own rules.

Being a female bounty hunter wasn’t the easiest when you started off at the young age of seventeen. In desperate need of the extra money after the tragic passing of both your parents, the two of you had to get along on Robert’s slim, beginner paycheck. He was only twenty-three, started working at the station just a year prior, you knew you had to help him out. He kept bringing up cases, worked on them through the nights and when he passed you on the couch from exhaustion, you sneaked your way into the dining room and looked for easy targets. Speeding tickets, light drug trafficking, whatever you could deal with as a high schooler.

Robert hated the idea of you dealing with wanted people, you had endless fights about it, but you were too stubborn to stop and besides, you liked the adrenaline rush you got whenever you caught another one and brought them back to the station. Loved the stunned and shocked looks on the older officers when you managed to catch a bigger fish. It took Robert a few years to come to peace with your choice of lifestyle and now he doesn’t even try to talk you down. Instead, he keeps bringing you cases that pay well and he knows you’d like them.

“Who did you catch this time?” he grins at you, walking up to you and he envelopes you in a short hug.

“Just got Dennis Delgado, Jeremy took him.”

“Poor Dennis, he’ll have a rough evening,” Robert chuckles. “Did you get your money?”

“Stella is already working on it,” you nod towards the lady behind you.

“Oh, I’ve got you, Sweetheart,” Stella pushes herself back from her desk and walks over to you with an envelope filled with your reward.

“Amazing, thank you, Stella,” you grin at her happily. Dennis was worth a little more than the usual, you are well covered for the rest of the month thanks to him.

“Do you have something coming next?” Robert asks, hands on his hips as he watches you put the money away into your backpack.

“Not yet. Got something exciting for me?”

“An old friend,” he nods with a small smile. He reaches behind the counter and grabs a flyer, handing it over to you, a familiar face staring back at you from the photo this time.

Harry Styles is a name you’ve heard plenty of times and you know him well by now. You actually went to high school with him, you were just never in the same group. He was labeled as troubled all through his teenage years, his parents were brutally killed when he was just a kid, he was tossed around from one foster family to the other, moving around town every few months. It was no surprised when he got into some darker circles, he almost got kicked out of school right before graduation but somehow managed to stick around to get his diploma at the end.

You have actually handed him in a few times before. Never for anything bigger than drug trafficking or robbing smaller shops downtown, Harry is actually not as bad as people tend to portray him to be, he was just not blessed with the best background as most people. He is a smart guy and would never hurt anyone for real, this is why you are now staring down at his flyer shocked.

He is wanted for the murder of a local man who was found dead a few days ago in his home, Harry’s hair was found near the body with no other evidence.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask Robert with a concerned look. This doesn’t feel right. Not that you know Harry that well, but it’s very unlike him.

“Very much. His hair was the only thing we found near the body of Dave RIchards so evidently, he is our number one suspect.”

“I don’t know, this doesn’t sound right,” you think to yourself, staring down at the mug shot of him that was taken the last time you brought him in for selling weed to underage kids. You remember it exactly, because bringing Harry in is always… fun, if you could say that.

That last time, he was already expecting you, waiting around in his usual motel room that is somewhat considered as his home.

“My Y/N! You arrived earlier than I expected!” he greeted you when you kicked his door in. He was sitting in the middle of the double bed, rolling a joint as always, not a care in the world about your arrival.

“You knew I was coming?” you cocked your head to the side walking in and stopping at the end of the bed, watching him finish the joint and simply light it before taking a big puff.

“Of course. I was informed I’m on your list again, just thought you’d give me a few more hours, but it’s alright.” He waved around carelessly before holding out the joint in your way, offering you to try it.

“No thanks, I don’t trust your sketchy stuff.”

“That hurt!” he gasped dramatically, placing a hand to his tattooed chest that was partially on display since his shirts are never buttoned all the way up.

You brought him in that day, stopping for McDonald’s on your way to the station before handing him over to Robert. He was actually a great guy, nice sense of humor and good looks, you never thought otherwise, he was just moving around in different circles than you so you were left with the few jokes he always cracked when you took him in every few months.

“Well, it’s not your job to question his innocence. Want to take the job or not?” Robert asks you.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll find him,” you nod and fold the flyer, sliding it into your back pocket.

Normally, you take the rest of the day for yourself after turning someone in, but this situation with Harry just bugs you way more than to just go home and pretend like it’s not all you can think about. Harry is not a murderer, he would never randomly kill a man, he is not a psycho, just a guy with a rough background and some poor life decisions.

You know the route to the motel like the back of your hand. Arriving to the dodgy parking lot you park your car in the far end before taking one last look at the flyer. Then you push it into your backpack and get out, heading to Harry’s room with firm steps. You see no lights on, the door is closed and you almost don’t even get closer, thinking he is not here when you see someone move around inside.

You are almost at the door when a hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your body, pulling you back forcefully. It takes you a moment to recover from the shock as you are yanked backwards, but as you are being dragged towards the alleyway next to the motel you elbow your attacker in the stomach before kicking them in the knees. The hands fall from around you and turning around you pull out your pocket knife, ready to cut throats right away, but you are shocked to see Harry hunched over, groaning in pain as he holds his arm to his stomach.

“The fuck, Y/N?!” he growls, his chocolate curls falling forward, they’ve definitely gotten longer since the last time you saw him, he could easily put them up into a bun now. “What was that for?” he whispers in disbelief, his green eyes meeting yours in a scowl.

“What the fuck do you mean? You attacked me!”

“I didn’t attack you, I was trying to fucking save you!”

“From what?!”

“From the fucking asshole in my room who is four times bigger than you and would have probably shot you the moment you kicked my door in like you always fucking do!”

It’s just now processing in you that if Harry is here, the person you saw in the room can’t be him and he surely looked bulky. Harry runs his hand through his hair, straightening up from his hunched position before he sighs tiredly. He looks… worn-out, even more than he usually does. The dark circles under his eyes and beat-up knuckles are new, he usually looks fine despite everything that goes on in his life, but this is a version of him you haven’t seen. He has definitely been through some shit lately.

“What are you doin—“

“No time for questions now, we have to get out of here,” he cuts you off, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the alleyway to another parking lot on the other side of the motel. You spot his old jeep right away, but you yank your hand out of his hold, stopping in your tracks.

“Wait, my car is there!”

“We’ll come back for that later, but they can’t find you here with me or they’ll be after you as well,” he explains, grabbing your hand again as he pulls you towards the car and this time you follow him blindly.

You get into his jeep without even questioning it, not even caring that he is a man who is currently wanted for murder. Your instinct is telling you that you’re completely fine with him and you believe it. The two of you head out of town, taking the route to the next town nearby, but he takes a turn to the left, the jeep rolling onto a dirty road leading along fields filled with wildflowers. You have a guess where you’re going, there are some abandoned cabins near the woods that used to function as vacation homes, but they were slowly left to stand empty for eternity when a luxury resort was built on the other side of the woods.

“Care to tell me what the fuck just happened?” you ask him calmly, turning to look at him. He has one hand on the wheel, while his other elbow is resting on the armrest, fingers tapping on his chapped, pink lips.

“I’m in… deep shit, Y/N,” he admits with a sigh, eyes glued to the road ahead of him.

“No shit, you killed someone?”

“I didn’t,” he states, his eyes meeting yours for a moment to emphasize his truth. “It was a fucking set up and now they are after me every way possible.”

“Who is? And what did you do to get into so much trouble?”

“I’ll tell you about it when we arrive, okay?”

You sit in silence for the rest of the ride until you finally arrive to the cabins. You follow Harry inside one of them and it seems like he has set his base up here a few days ago. There’s a double bed with blankets thrown over it and a few mismatched pillows, a sports bag with his clothes and a few grocery bags on the dusty kitchen counter, candles everywhere since there’s probably no power in the cabin. You wonder how long he has been camping out here.

“About a week ago I got a visit from Hugo McKain, you’ve heard about him?” he asks as he grabs a bottled water from one of the grocery bags and fills up two plastic cups, handing you one of them.

“Sure. I’ve heard that… he is a big fish,” you nod.

“Yeah. He wanted me to work for him, but I sincerely rejected the offer, however it didn’t sit well with him. He threatened me that if I’m not selling his stuff, then I won’t sell anyone else’s stuff,” he explains, walking over to the bed and he sits at the edge, staring at the cup in his hands. “He gave me another day to change my mind, but I said that I don’t want to get involved with any of the heavy shit he deals with. I was hoping he would just willing to forget about it, but apparently, he is not the kind to just let shit go,” he chuckles bitterly. “A few days ago he sent two of his men after me, but I was able to run away. I was ready to pack my shit up and just leave the state forever, but then the fucking asshole framed me for the murder of that guy. A friend called me to let me know that I’m the only suspect in the case and that my face has been sent out already everywhere in the state. Hugo made it impossible for me to leave, I would be caught the moment I stop to pump fucking gas in my car,” he growls in annoyance. “So it’s a whole shit show, the police and Hugo are after me and I’m fucking stuck here.”

You stand there at a complete loss of words, because though you have no evidence if he is telling you the truth, you just know he is and the situation is fucking miserable. Harry drinks his water and throws the cup into a plastic bag that serves as a trashcan, his fingers running through his hair nervously.

“Do you know who killed the guy?” you speak up after some silence.

“Yeah, one of his men called Axel, he is a proper idiot, I’m actually surprised he didn’t leave his DNA back, just mine,” Harry scoffs.

“If you know they are after you, what were you doing at the motel?” you ask, leaning against the wall, curiously eyeing him as he glances up at you.

“Knew you’d come after me, didn’t want them to pull you into this mess too.”

Your eyebrows rise at his words. He went back because of you? Harry notices your surprise, a smug smirk tugging on his lips.

“What? Couldn’t let them lay a finger on my Y/N, right?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. He has always been so flirty with you since day one, always trying to pull your leg, chatting your ears off in hopes that he can finally drag you to bed one day. But you never give in, it all stays just some empty flirting and a playful banter.

“So what are you going to do now?” you ask clearing your throat. There’s just always been something in the way he calls you his Y/N that makes you a tad bit nervous.

“That’s an excellent question to which… I have no answer,” he truthfully admits.

“You can’t hide here forever.”

“You tryna’ lure me into going to the station with you?” he asks with a grin. “To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t cuffed me yet. You love that stuff, don’t you?” Harry stands from the bed and strides over to you, the height difference between the two of you forcing you to tilt your head up a little as he smirks down at you, enjoying that he has successfully made you blush. “Question is, have you been the one in the cuffs?”

You part your lips with the intention of answering, but nothing comes out. Harry smirks down at you, so full of himself before stepping away.

“Anyway, I think I’m just gonna lay low here for a while and then hopefully I’ll be able to sneak out of town at one point.”

“You wanna stay here?” you ask looking around. The place is fine for just a few nomad days, but staying here for more seems impossible. There’s no electricity, probably no water, some of the windows are broken in, the temperature must drop drastically in the nights so close to the woods.

“Not that I have any other choices,” he huffs, opening a bag of chips from the groceries.

“Don’t you have any friends who can share their couch with you for a while?”

“You think anyone would want to hide a dude who is wanted for murder and who is also in trouble with Hugo McKain? Baby, even if any of my friends were willing to help, I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t want to pull them into my shit. Besides, Hugo is probably already keeping tabs of all my friends, he has the connections to know everything about me.”

“And what about me?” you suddenly ask. Harry freezes, eyes flickering at you in confusion.

“What about you?”

“Would he look for you at mine?”

Now it’s his turn to rock a stunned expression, eyebrows shooting up as he stares back at you. He wasn’t expecting it, but truth is neither did you. However it doesn’t take him long to turn it into something entirely sexual.

“You know, if you wanted to see me in your bed, you should have just asked.”

Luckily, you don’t fall under his spell this time. Rolling your eyes you put the cup to the nearest surface and head to the door.

“Alright, changed my mind. Have fun camping out here on your own,” you mumble, reaching for the doorknob, but he is quick to get between you and the door, stopping you from leaving.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I was just not expecting you to make that offer, alright?” You take a step back, folding your arms on your chest. “Were you serious about that?”

“It seemed like an option. I doubt you’d be expected to be at my place.”

“And you’d actually let me stay there?”

“I guess a few days wouldn’t hurt. Until you figure out what to do.”

Harry stares at you in awe, like you just did the best thing ever for him and the thought that he never had anyone to do such favor for him is kind of heartbreaking. He might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but there’s just something in him.

You help him pack his stuff back into the jeep, leaving the weathered cabin empty again before you head back to town. Harry drops you off a few blocks from the motel so you can walk back to your car, you glance at his door just once, it’s still closed but they could easily still be there.

Harry is already at your place when you arrive to your building, waiting around in his jeep, he has put a beanie and sunglasses on, keeping his head low. As he follows you up to your little apartment, you actually realize that Harry is about to move in with you for the upcoming days, he is going to live in your place, you’ll share your home with him. How crazy does that sound?

Unlocking the door you walk into your small apartment. It’s just the perfect size for one person, a decent kitchen with a small dining table, a living room that also functions as your study, your desk filled with folders and flyers from previous works. Then you have a little bedroom and a bathroom opening from the living room. It’s cozy and homey, but definitely not the setting you would have ever imagined Harry in.

“So, the couch is a pull out, I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow, make yourself… home I guess,” you tell him walking into your bedroom to get him everything he needs. However, he is following you into the room, already snooping around in your private little space.

As you grab him a blanket and pillow, you find him inspecting your clutters on top of your dresser, your jewelry, perfumes and makeup stuff is just thrown out there, and he seemingly takes an interest in your rings.

“Never seen you wear any jewelry,” he huffs as you walk up to him.

“Don’t like them on me that much,” you admit. “Here,” you give them the bedding and usher him out of the bedroom before he gets way too adventurous and starts digging into your lingerie drawers.

When the pullout is all set up and Harry has settled in a little, you are faced with the fact once again, that Harry is in your home and about to spend the upcoming days here with you, since he can’t really roam around the streets.

You make sandwiches for the two of you and sit at the small dining table, eating in silence until you speak up.

“I can ask my brother to help find the guy who did it. There has to be a way to get you out of this.”

Harry glances at you, chewing on his food before putting the sandwich down, swallowing the bite.

“Not really if they don’t find evidence.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“We?” he smirks at you playfully, earning a blush from you again. You hate the effect he has on you, he is clearly a good-looking guy, you always thought that, even in high school. Thanks to his troubled name, girls easily fall for his bad guy behavior, they just never really saw that being a so called bad guy wasn’t just about the looks, with a slightly similar background you could imagine how hard it really was for him. Though he never really let it show. He is always this whitty, cocky bastard who is ready to flirt his way into your pants whenever the opportunity is given.

“If you keep up with the teasing you’ll find yourself on the street one morning,” you warn him and he just holds his hands up with a smug grin.

“You are the boss lady here,” she chuckles softly before returning to his sandwich.

For the rest of the evening you bury yourself into some other work stuff, you always have a few smaller gigs going on that are easy money, Harry in the meanwhile makes himself comfortable on the couch, watching your tiny TV in silence, letting you do your thing. It’s nearing midnight when you wrap it up and head to have a quick shower. Standing under the hot water you take a few minutes to collect your thoughts and just simply try to get used to the thought that you are in fact hiding a man who is wanted for murder. It’s going to be some pretty interesting days you have ahead of you, that is for sure.

Putting on your oversized t-shirt and cotton shorts you leave a clean towel on the counter for Harry in case he doesn’t have one before heading out.

“Towel is on the counter. Sorry, I don’t have shower gel for men, but the soap is unscented so feel free to use,” you tell him walking out, only to find him already waiting around the door, leaning against the wall. His eyes fall down the length of your uncovered leg, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“If you’re the kind who sleeps naked, feel free to get rid of the textile.”

“Are you a naked sleeper?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“I can be, if you want me to be,” he grins smugly and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Good night, Harry,” you sigh walking into your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, only allowing yourself to let out a shaky sigh when you are out of his sight. Leaning against the door you hear him shuffling around until the bathroom door closes and the water starts running. You try your best to ignore the thought of Harry currently in your shower naked as you climb to bed and pull the covers over your head. You need the coverage, hopefully it’ll help you with your wandering thoughts.

“Thought you’d deliver Styles by now,” Robert teases you when he meets you at the station the next day. You left Harry at your place, sincerely asking not to trash your home while you’re away and headed to the police station in hopes that your brother might be able to help him out.

“Uh, no. But actually, he is the reason why I’m here,” you tell him with a nervous chuckle.

“What? Did he hurt you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. Can we please talk in your office?” you ask and he nods, leading you up to his office.

Once the two of you are settled and secluded from the rest of the officers, you just decide to start right in the middle and not waste your time beating around the bush.

“Harry didn’t do it. He was framed.”

Robert gives you a surprised look as he leans back in his seat on the other side of his desk. He thinks about your words furrowing his eyebrows before scratching his neck.

“How… do you know that?”

“I just know. He is being framed by Hugo McKain, it was one of his men who killed the guy, not Harry.”

“I have a feeling that your source about this was none other than Harry himself.”

“Does it matter?”

“It does, because of course he would try to defend himself!”

“Harry is not a murderer, Robert,” you snap. “He always owns up to his mistakes and he would never do anything to hurt others. Yes, he is troubled and did a lot of illegal shit in his life, but never anything that could hurt others. He became a target because he didn’t want to join Hugo.”

Robert stares at you for a while, probably trying to figure out whether he should believe you or not. You knew he’d be skeptical, but you can only hope he trusts you enough to help you out in this one case.

“And what do you expect me to do?” he asks after a while.

“He knows the name of the guy. Axel something, can you get someone on his case? Look into the evidence more? Something might come up that could help Harry out of this mess.”

Robert’s jaw clenches as he stares back at you, contemplating his choices but something is telling you he is already in. You won him over.

“I’ll have Jake look into it, I think I know who this Axel guy is.”

“Thank you, Robert!” you cheer in excitement. Jumping from your seat you go around his desk and hug him from behind, kissing his cheek as he tries to escape your embrace. He hates it when you get all affectionate at his work, but you just had to. You head to the door to get out of his hair before he changes his mind, but he stops you before you could leave.

“Y/N, just please be careful with Styles, okay?”

“He is not as bad as people make him sound.”

“I just don’t want him to get you into trouble. There’s only so much I can do to save your ass.” “Don’t worry,” you smile at him softly. “I’ll be alright.”

The rest of the day goes by with catching some stupid guy who was wanted for trying to rob a gas station while drunk, it’s a mystery how he was able to run away, you saw the security footage, the guy was barely standing on his feet, but lucky for you, he is in the exact same state when you surprise him at a bar and bring him in.

It’s past seven when you finally get home. Keying yourself into the apartment you are met with a quite pleasant sight. Harry has pushed the pullout in to make some space in the cramped living room and as you step inside, you are met with the sight of him doing pushups in the middle of the room, no shirt on, just a pair of loose shorts, all his tattoos are on display, a thin layer of sweat covering his body, his curls are held back with a headband. When he hears you arrive, his head shoots up and smirks in your way before doing a few more and then he stops, standing up just as you shut the front door.

“Welcome home, Honey,” he winks in your way and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Turning my living room into your personal gym, huh?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, waiting for you to get home, can I?”

“You can always just fix up my apartment while I’m gone,” you joke chuckling. Setting your bag down on your bed you join him in the kitchen where he is sipping on some water. “Anyway, I have good news for you. My brother said he’ll have one of his guys look into the case. I’m sure he’ll check after this Axel dude you mentioned.”

“That’s great! I’ve also been asking around today, some of my friends said they will try to dig up some dirt that might help me out, but I don’t want any of them to get too deep and then have Hugo go after them too.”

“It’ll be fine,” you nod, convinced that things will turn out well. “Alright, I’ll throw something together for dinner, what—“

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already ordered, should be here soon.”

“You ordered food?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course. I won’t just eat your fridge out, dinners are on me while I’m here,” he smiles genuinely and you’re stunned by the gesture.

Half an hour later the two of you are sitting on the living room floor, Chinese takeout boxes littering the place around you, having a full on feast because Harry didn’t go light on the order.

“So, tell me, what have you been doing since high school?” he prompts the question. “I feel like I know you but I also don’t. Don’t get me wrong, being handcuffed by you every other month is fucking hot, but I don’t know much about you.”

“There’s not much to know,” you shrug. “I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen, no grandiose career.”

“But did you have any other plans before?”

“Thought about joining the police, but I was never tame enough to follow their rules.”

“Ooh, a little rebel?” he teases you and you throw a handful of napkins in his way, making him laugh.

“You can joke about it, but I’ve had my fair share of trouble as well, you are not the only one who’s been through some rough years.”

“I know that,” he nods, eyes getting serious for a moment. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“You know about them?” you ask in surprise. You didn’t really share it with anyone, talking about the loss of them just made it harder to deal with it and you also didn’t want everyone’s petty.

“You just know about this kind of stuff when you grow up in foster care. Though you were lucky your brother was already of age.”

“I know. I’m convinced I wouldn’t be here if I had to go into foster care.” Putting down the box from your hands you look at Harry. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all that.”

“Not that it was any of your fault,” he smiles softly, but you can see the pain in his green eyes. Despite not knowing him well growing up, you always felt this weird urge to tell him how sorry you were for everything he had to deal with. He deserved a better childhood and teenage years and most importantly, respect from people. Everyone just labeled him as a lost case because of his background, but no one really tried to help him. Part of you feels guilty, because you could have helped through those years, but you were a little frightened from him as well, believing the rumors and talks about him, though now you know they were probably just stupid gossips.

Harry reaches into your box, stealing a dumpling and you snap on his hand, but he just pops it into his mouth grinning slyly.

“Hey! You have your own!” you tell him off.

“I know, but yours just tastes better.”

“You are such a pest,” you roll your eyes at him as you grab your box and start eating again.

“So, what does your boyfriend think about me being here?” he asks out of nowhere, but you see through his act. It’s his sneaky way of trying to get you to say if you’re single or not, probably already knowing the answer to that, but you choose to pull his leg a little.

“He is fine. Though you might have to plug your ears in a little when he comes over,” you tell him with a straight face and see his fall, a stunned expression on his handsome face.

“Wait, really? You have a boyfriend and told him about me being here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t I?”

It’s hard not to start laughing, especially when the words process and he realizes that you are in fact taken. The flirty, teasing act is long gone, he presses his lips together nodding to himself as he continues to eat in silence.

“I’m just fucking with you, I don’t have a boyfriend,” you tell him at last, finally letting out a laugh. His eyes snap up at you and a smirk slowly tugs at his lips as he points a finger at you.

“You had me for a hot minute. Nice one.”

“Why were you so surprised when I said I have a boyfriend?” you ask tilting your head to the side.

“Guess the thought was just a little weird, I’ve never seen you with a guy before.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve never been with any,” you point out, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Oh, I know. I never thought you are pretending to be a nun,” he snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasp, feeling like it was a subtle way to call you some sort of slut. Harry looks up at your upset expression and he immediately knows how his words were taken.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he defends himself.

“Then how did you mean it?”

“I meant that I always thought a girl as pretty as you must have plenty of guys after her.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at how bluntly he just called you pretty. It had a refreshing sound after all the shameless flirting he has been doing when it came to you, and your poor little heart immediately skipped a beat upon hearing his words.

“Well, I didn’t have,” you admit with a sad smile. You briefly dated a guy from another school in tenth grade, but after that, your life was just way too complicated to get involved in a relationship and you haven’t really been able to change that even years later. When you’re very keen on some intimacy you go to a nearby bar and just let whatever man to pick you up and have for the night, but that doesn’t happen too often either, because it seems useless most of the time, you can do the job yourself just fine too, you don’t need some random man to call you his babygirl when he doesn’t even know your name. Some never even bother to finish you, they pass out once they got what they wanted so you prefer being on your own.

“Fucking losers!” Harry huffs dramatically. “They have no idea what’s good.”

“You don’t need to say that just to make me feel better,” you roll your eyes at him, but you can feel yourself blushing.

“I’m not, I was always crushing on you a little in high school, if I’m being honest,” he admits truthfully, managing to surprise you once again.

“For real?”

“Sure,” he nods, turning his focus back to his food as he continues to talk. “Even thought about asking you out to prom one time. But I figured you might not even know who I am.”

“Come on, everyone knew who you were!”

“Are you telling me off for being humble?” he asks grinning. “Okay, let me rephrase it. I didn’t know if you wanted anything to do with me after hearing stuff about me, so I just dodged the idea.”

You chew on his words a little before looking up at him, eyes meeting his green irises, though you are usually not one to get in on the flirting, now you just feel like being a little blunt.

“Well, I always thought you were good-looking.”

“Were? Am I not good-looking anymore?” he teases with a dramatic gasp that makes you roll your eyes.

“Well, the smugness takes a bit away from it, if I’m being honest,” you tell him off making him laugh.

Once you both are well fed you clean the boxes up together, you wash the few extra plates you used while Harry dries them off and puts them away. Opening one of the cabinets he moves the door a bit, examining how it hangs a little low.

“I always forget to fix it up,” you sigh. There’s quite a few things that could use some work, but you just never get to start on them so they are always put aside.

You take your turns in the bathroom as usual and you sit at your desk a little, working on a few stuff before calling it a night. Harry is already lying in his temporary bed on the pullout, scrolling through his phone. The covers hide only half of his body, his naked, tattooed chest is on display, one of his arms is tucked under his head, the muscles on his arm flexing just right. He surely is a sight, you can’t deny that.

“Seeing something you like?” His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been caught staring. Clearing your throat you stack up the papers on your desk and head into your bedroom.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heating up.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he calls after you before you click the door closed.

The next day you go with your usual routine, Robert checks in with you letting you know he already has someone on Harry’s case, so there’s not much you can do for now, only hope that something will surface that can help him out of this mess. Throughout the day you often catch yourself thinking about what Harry could be doing at home all day and you pray to all higher powers he is not currently snooping through your lingerie.

It’s a frustrating day, you couldn’t find the guy you’ve been after but you were really hoping to finally get the money for him. He is big money, but he makes you work for it certainly. When you arrive home Harry is nowhere to be seen, but then you hear the shower running so you figure he must have just been working out and is now taking a shower. Two pizza boxes are set on the dining table and you sigh in relief that you don’t have to think about cooking with him around. Going to the kitchen you are about to grab two plates when you notice that the cupboard door that’s been hanging low a little is now fixed. It’s as new as it never was since you’ve been living here and it gets you wondering if anything else has been taken care of. Going through the kitchen you start to realize that all the little things that’s been waiting to be fixed are now working perfectly: the handle on one of the drawers, the loose tap, the shelf that’s been crooked for a while, it’s all perfect now.

The bathroom door opens and Harry walks out wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his hair is wet and he has a towel hanging from around his neck.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t hear you arrive,” he breathes out throwing the towel to the back of one of the chairs around the dining table.

“Just arrived a few minutes ago. Hey, did you fix my kitchen?” you ask furrowing your eyebrows at him.

“Uh, yeah. Took a look at the stuff that seemed off. Also fixed the shoe rack near the door and the hangers in the bathroom.”

“Oh wow. You really shouldn’t have.”

“Didn’t you tell me to fix the place up while being here?” he teases you with a smirk as he leans against the table.

“That was just a joke.”

“I know,” he chuckles softly. “But I really didn’t have much to do today so I thought I might make myself useful.”

“That’s… actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“No worries.”

“So how was your day?” Harry asks as the two of you are chewing on the pizza, sitting at the dining table.

“Why are you making small talk like we’re a married couple?” you scrunch your nose, taking another bite from your slice.

“What, I can’t be nice?”

“You can, it’s just you are usually not,” you point out.

“Or you are just never around when I decide to be nice,” he grins. “You usually just burst into my place, handcuff me and then bring me in. That doesn’t give much time to be nice.”

“I wouldn’t cuff you if you didn’t try to run away the first time I wanted to bring you in,” you retort shrugging.

“Okay, first of all, I was not expecting you to just kick my door in and have a fucking knife pointed at my throat, of course I tried to escape! And second, I quite enjoy being handcuffed by you, so I guess it’s not that bad.”

That smug smirk is back on his lips again and you wish you could just wipe it off sometimes. He is so full of himself!

“You are always coming with this cuffing thing. Get a hold of your kinks, Styles.”

“You can’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on. I bet you’d like that, if you haven’t already been cuffed in the bedroom,” he snorts, taking a big bite, the sauce dripping a bit from the corner of his mouth that he wipes with the back of his hand.

“My kinks are none of your concerns,” you sternly reply, but it just makes his grin wider.

“Oh, so you do have kinks! Tell me more about them!”

“Well what are yours?” you retort, hoping it would shut him up, but it has the opposite effect on him. Leaning back he swallows the food in his mouth before starting the list.

“Well I do love getting handcuffed, I’m into spanking, both ways. I have a weird thing for—“

“Alright! I’ve heard enough!” you cut him off. “Stop, just… stop,” you breathe out.

“What?” Harry chuckles, clearly enjoying the situation more than you’d want him to. “Don’t tell me you’re too prude to talk about sex.”

“I’m not,” you answer right away.

“Okay, then tell me about your kinks!” he teases you some more. Snapping your eyes at him you can tell how much he is enjoying making you so uncomfortable, but you also know that he thinks he’ll just make you blush and you won’t tell him a thing. So you decide to give him his own medicine.

“I do in fact like to be handcuffed, I love a good spanking, when my ass cheeks turn red from the slaps, that makes me cum very hard. I love a good old choking and I particularly enjoy giving blowjobs because I don’t have a gagging reflex, makes men go fucking nuts when I have them down my throat to the last inch, I get off their reaction easily.”

Harry’s lips part as he stares at you with a stunned expression, he definitely did not expect that answer, or any answer at all. That face alone makes up for the slight anxiety that took over you talking about what you really enjoy in the bedroom. Your eyes wander down and a triumphant smirk tugs on your lips.

“Don’t be such a horny teenager, I can see your dick getting hard,” you tell him before flipping the pizza box closed and walking into the kitchen you put the remaining of it into the fridge.

“You are such a tease, Y/N,” he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “But it might backfire, because now I’m gonna get off thinking about spanking you,” he grins at you, but you just shrug, heading to the bathroom.

“Do whatever you want, fantasizing is free,” you tell him before locking yourself in the bathroom.

You’d be lying if you said you don’t think about him in the shower. As your hands move down your body, your fingers wander between your legs, gently playing with your clit while thinking about Harry spanking you. Knowing that he is kind of into the same things as you makes your fantasies even more vivid, but you don’t let yourself get off. You wouldn’t want him to hear you moan under the shower, he would tease you about it forever.

When you’re all done you step out of the bathroom only to get startled by Harry who is standing right at the door, wearing only his boxer briefs.

“Shit!” you gasp, snapping your hand to your chest.

“You took awfully long in there, Y/N,” he smirks at you, but you just roll your eyes at him. “If you ever need help washing you back, don’t be shy to ask me to join.”

“Keep dreaming,” you mumble under your breath as you walk past him and make your way into your bedroom.

“I already do that!” he calls after you before you shut the door closed.

Throwing yourself to your bed you take a deep breath closing your eyes. If he keeps up this act, you have no idea how you’re gonna survive having him around any longer.

Two days go by in the same manner. You spend most of the day out doing your usual stuff, you actually manage to catch another guy who was a small reward, but it’s more than nothing. Harry usually has dinner ready and waiting for you by the time you get back home. During these two days he has fixed up basically everything that wasn’t working in your apartment, freeing you from doing it yourself for probably twice as long as he did.

You sit and eat together, Harry usually tries to get under your skin with some more flirting that you return with a cold shoulder, but then, when you’re lying in the comfort of your bed or standing under the hot water in the shower, you always find your thoughts wandering off to the man on the other side of the door.

Ashamed to admit, but you’ve gotten yourself off once thinking about him. You woke up in the middle of the night from a quite hot dream that, of course, featured a shirtless Harry and you just couldn’t stop yourself from bringing you some relief. For a little while your hands weren’t yours, you imagined that Harry’s big, calloused and ring clad fingers were moving against your body and you needed every drop of self-control not to moan his name out as you came. You blame it on him being so comfortable shirtless around your place, he has been really making himself feel home. Not that you’re complaining, he is a sight for the eyes certainly, but it’s also giving you a hard time.

Robert soon asks you to swing by the station to discuss some details about Harry’s case. You can tell he couldn’t dig up anything helpful, he would have already mentioned it through the phone, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have anything that can be useful in further investigation.

“So, I’ve caught wind of Axel Morris being involved in the death of the victim, but we haven’t been able to recover any evidence that would point towards him, unfortunately,” Robert explains as the two of you sit in his office. “Didn’t want to bring him in for questioning either because then Hugo would find out we are after him.”

“So what can be done now?”

“I’m… really not sure, Y/N. If Axel doesn’t magically confesses the murder on tape, I’m not sure I can do anything to help Styles.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you’re trying hard to think of what to do. This can’t end like this, there has to be a way out for Harry…

“Look. I know you’re trying to cook up something to help Styles, but I’m not sure I can give you much time.”

“What do you mean?” you ask with a puzzled look.

“I mean that…” He glances at the door and then leans closer, speaking more quietly. “If I had a guess where he could be found, I would say he is at your place as we are speaking. I can’t let a guy walk free who is wanted for murder, Y/N. I eventually have to bring him back.”

“Alright, alright. Just give me a few more days. I’ll figure it out,” you plead, running your hand through your hair. Robert sighs, shaking his head.

“You have three days. That marks ten days since the warrant has been out. If you don’t bring me evidence by then, I’m sending the guys to your place to get him.”

“Three days, alright. I’ll… figure it out. Thanks, Robert,” you nod, leaving his office in a rush.

You have three days to find evidence against Axel and free Harry, but how do you even start? You’re good at what you do, but this is kind of out of your field and you’re not sure you can deal with it.

Walking around town you try to come up with an idea, but end up doing what you always do when you’re stuck on a case. Thanks to your work you’ve built up quite a web of connections, you always know someone who knows someone who is exactly the person you need. So sitting at a diner, munching on a late lunch you start calling your connections to see if you can dig up anything that could help.

A few hours later the situation becomes brighter and you finally have a somewhat useful plan so you head home to let Harry in on what you’ve come up with.

He is seemingly surprised when you arrive home earlier than the usual, he is sitting at the dining table, a bowl of instant noodles in front of him as he is watching some video on his phone. Like usually, he is only wearing a pair of sweatpants, his tattooed abdomen on full display.

“Oh, hi! Something happened?” he asks, concern showing in his eyes as he watches you kick your shoes off and storm into your bedroom, going straight to your wardrobe to dig up one particular outfit. “Y/N?” you hear him call out for you, his voice coming from your door.

“Yes! I knew I still had it!” you cheer in triumph as you hold up the latex set that clearly leaves very little to the imagination. When Harry sees it, his eyes go wide and his imagination probably gets wild for a moment, because he clears his throat as he looks at you puzzled.

“What do you need that for?”

“It’s part of my plan that will get us evidence against Axel Morris.”

“I’m not really following, so please elaborate?”

“I talked to Robert, he said we need to get him to confess. Now, I made a few phone calls and found out that our friend, Axel is a regular at this strip club called Siren. I’ll pretend to be a dancer and wrap him around my fingers and get him to confess while recording. You said it yourself, he is a real dumbass, I’m sure I can make it work.”

Harry stares at you frozen for a long moment before he lets out a heartfelt chuckle and now you’re the one confused about what’s really going on.

“S’cute you think I’m letting you close to that man. Funny, that was a good joke. Alright, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, walking back to the dinner table, but you chase after him.

“It’s not a joke, Harry. Pretty much our only chance to get you out of this mess!”

“You are not going anywhere near that guy and that’s not up for debate.”

“Not that you can tell me what to do!” you scoff at him.

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shakes his head sitting back to the table, stirring his pasta around with the spoon.

“I certainly know, and this is pretty much your only chance to save your ass, Harry.”

“Not if it means you go near Axel, nah,” he shakes his head calmly, as if it wasn’t even an argument and he had the right to grant you permission.

“Well, I’m doing it and you can’t do anything about that. I’m going in tomorrow. I know one of the dancers, she is helping me set it all up,” you shrug, your attitude meeting his careless one, but he doesn’t like your answer, not even a bit.

“Y/N, you are not going there!” he snaps, standing up, the chair falling back from the sudden movement. “That psycho killed a man or did you forget about that?!”

“Okay, so what’s your plan to save your ass? Because there’s literally no other choice,” you retort giving him a frown as you march back to your room and Harry follows you.

“But it won’t be you dressing up as a stripper, seducing a fucking murderer to get him to confess!”

“So then what is it going to be?!” you snap at him facing him again. “Because Robert gave me three days to sort things out before he comes here and takes you in himself!”

“Then I’ll go to jail! No big deal!” he throws his hands into the air like it was just a minor inconvenience and not a case of murder that could put him behind bars forever.

“Are you fucking insane?” you laugh in disbelief. “You’re willing to lose the rest of your life for what? Nothing at all?!”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You are not getting yourself into this mess and it’s not up for debate.”

“You hold no control over me, Harry!” you scream at him at this point, fed up with his bullshit.

You find yourself pinned against the wall in a blink of the eye, Harry is pressed up against you, hands grabbing onto your forearms as he keeps you in place firmly, one of his thighs coming between your legs as his face is dangerously close to yours now. He knocks the air out of you for a moment and you stare back at him with parted lips for just a split second before your instincts kick in.

You easily knee him in the crotch, giving you just enough opportunity to grab one of his wrists and twist it behind his back, forcing him to get on the ground, growling in pain.

“Fuck! Y/N!” he groans, snapping his other hand against the hardwood floor. You give him another squeeze as a warning before letting him go and he falls to the ground for a moment before he pushes himself up to sit on his heels.

“You still think I can’t protect myself against a man?” you sneer at him walking over to the bed to grab the outfit that was tossed to the side in the hustle.

“Shit, I think you broke my dick!” he breathes out hunching over and you just smile to yourself as you hand the outfit up to the side of your wardrobe.

“Don’t be such a crybaby, you’re fine.”

“Don’t think so, might need a get-well kiss on it though,” he smirks through his painful expression and you roll your eyes at him. How is he still at it when you just kneeled him in his crotch? “Okay, your message came through very clear though, but I’m still not a fan of your plan,” he sighs finally standing up from the floor.

“It’s gonna be easy, I’ll get him a little drunk, offer him a private dance, make a move and get him to talk. If he really is that dumb like you said, I can easily get him to open up, just gotta make sure he is focusing on something else,” you explain gesturing towards the outfit on the hanger.

“You can’t wear that, Y/N.”

“This is what strippers wear, I don’t see what the problem is.”

“My problem is that it’s like… nonexistent. There’s no textile at all!” he rages, still eyeing the red latex set.

“Are you… jealous?” you ask, starting to get a feel of what’s really going on. Harry’s head snaps in your way and the look in his eyes answers your question even when he tries to hide his real reasons.

“Jealous of you becoming a stripper? I bet I can make more than you if I became one,” he scoffs smugly.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking jealous!” you laugh, enjoying this one in a million moment. “What’s next, you have feelings for me? Are you gonna confess your undying love?” you tease him.

“Okay, you had your laughs, that was enough. Excuse me if I’m looking out for you and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“Don’t get all smitten with me now. I’ve been doing just fine without you so far.”

“Yeah, how many people did you bring in for murder?” Harry questions and that leaves you without an answer. Not that you don’t know it, but because the number is exactly zero. You’ve been doing your job for quite a while and there’s been all kind of cases under your hands, but not murders. Though you are completely capable of defending yourself, you’re not sure you want to deal with monsters who took a human’s life. The only reason you took Harry’s case was because you had an inkling feeling from the very start that he did not do it.

“Just as I thought,” Harry scoffs. “Listen, if you really want to do this then I’m going with you. No way I’m gonna just sit around here and wait to see if you make it back home.”

“How do you plan on leaving the house? Someone might recognize you and then it’s game over.”

“I’ll just… disguise myself,” he shrugs. “Can’t be that hard.”

You never thought the day would come when you see Harry Styles wearing a fake mustache and a ridiculous wig, secured with a beanie to his head. The moment the two of you finish his disguise, you can’t hold your laughter back. He looks so damn ridiculous, you can barely breathe through your laughter as he checks himself out in the mirror.

“I look like a fucking pedophile,” he shakes his head chuckling as he pushes some fake hair out of his forehead. “Where the fuck did you find this wig?” he snaps at you in disbelief.

“Does it matter? You look so fucking bad!” you laugh hysterically and Harry just stands there, waiting for you to finally stop, but it seems like he is not bothered by your reaction. He probably finds it equally funny too.

It’s currently seven pm, you have to head to Siren soon to start your fake shift as a stripper and you haven’t been able to talk Harry down from following you, so there you are, getting ready to fool everyone around you. Harry with his awful disguise and you with your stripper outfit.

When you finally catch your breath you leave Harry in the living room to get ready as well. Following a heavy makeup with dark, smokey eyes, you also put on a wig, a short, red bob that’s part of the outfit. Then you squeeze yourself into the latex, the tiny top barely covering you, the skirt is not even a skirt, rather than just a belt. As an extra to the fit, you’ve put on a red corset, though it’s more so you can hide the voice recorder since the original outfit doesn’t give too many places to do that. You pair it all with fishnet tights and a pair of black, thigh-high boots. As you check yourself out in the mirror you don’t even recognize yourself. Y/N is officially gone, the girl in the boots is… Crystabel.

Opening the door you step out of your bedroom, Harry is standing in the middle of the living room, busy with his phone so at first he doesn’t even see you walk out.

“Ready to leave?” he asks, eyes still on the screen of his phone.

“I… guess?” you breathe out, feeling extremely self-conscious in this revealing set.

When Harry finally looks up his mouth drops open. He is not even trying to hide his hunger as his eyes rake down the length of your body. He takes his time to take in every inch of your exposed skin before his gaze settles on your eyes behind your long fake lashes.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out and it gives you quite the confidence boost.

“You like it?” you ask, striking a pose as you push your hips to the side and place your hands on your waist.

“I-I’m… I’m fucking speechless,” he chuckles as you walk closer and grabbing the strings of his hoodie, you tug on the playfully while he is still shamelessly checking you out. “I don’t know how I could live this long without seeing you like this.”

“You are such a flirt,” you roll your eyes, but just as you are about to step away from him he grabs you by your waist and pulls you against him firmly. Your hands move to his broad shoulders right away, trying to keep your balance in his hold.

“I might be a flirt, but you are the hottest woman I’ve seen and I admit I will be fucking jealous of every man that’s gonna lay their eyes on you tonight.��� His voice is low, full of lust and if it wasn’t for his funny disguise, you would have melted right into his arms in a heartbeat.

“I can’t take you seriously with this mustache on,” you chuckle softly, running your fingers over the fake facial hair, the pad of your fingers slightly touching his soft lips underneath.

“Just wait until we get back home and I get rid of it,” he smirks and winks at you, making you chuckle, but you can also feel yourself blushing at his words.

You put on a trench coat to cover the racy outfit as the two of you make your way to the club. Harry is driving, but you took your car in case someone might recognize him near the club. Arriving Harry parks at a darker corner in the parking lot and he pulls out a little box from his backpack.

“Alright, let’s wire you up, Love,” he smirks as you undo the coat and let him help you get the devices situated on you.

The voice recorder gets pushed into your stomach, hiding behind your corset. It’s thick enough that it doesn’t give away that anything is hidden under it, it’s just a little uncomfortable for you, but you are sucking it up.

“Here, put this into your ears,” Harry hands you an earpiece that you place into your right ear, hiding it with your wig. “It’s not the best quality, but you’ll be able to hear me and I’ll hear everything around you. We need a safe word if anything happens so I know I have to go inside.”

“This is starting to look like a spy movie or something,” you mumble under your breath as you start buttoning your coat again.

“Don’t turn it into a joke, Y/N. Axel might be a stupid jerk, but don’t forget he killed that man. He doesn’t care if you’re a woman or not, or if you’re a real stripper or not.”

“Alright, alright,” you sigh nodding. “How about… cherry?”

“Okay. Use it if you are in trouble or someone is hurting you or anything.” You nod, fidgeting with the end of the coat, but Harry grabs your hand and makes you look at him. “I mean it, Y/N. I don’t want you to play the hero.”

“I won’t, calm down. I gotta go now. I’ll see you soon,” you tell him before getting out of the car and heading to the backdoor. Glancing back one last time you see Harry standing at the hood of the car, watching you intently as you disappear from his sight.

Sienna, who is helping you tonight is already waiting for you at the backdoor. You met her a few years ago when you caught her abusive ex and took him in. She said she owed you one for freeing her from that asshole and now you are finally here to collect that favor.

“Damn, you look good!” she grins, pulling you into a short hug.

“You think it’s gonna be alright?” you ask, pulling the coat open to show her the whole outfit.

“Fucking fantastic. No men will be able to focus on anything than your boobs,” she snorts, pulling you inside.

The plan is easy. You won’t be out all night, Sienna will be your eyes and when she spots Axel arrive, that’s when you come into the picture. Sienna will escort him to a secluded area and tell him he has a free lap dance which will be, of course, performed by you. Some flirting, some seducing and hopefully Axel will be dumb enough to let a some sort of confession slip.

Sienna takes you to the changing room and you stay in the corner, trying not to be in the way as you watch the girls get ready. There are ten girls in total, five of them are dancing tonight, the other five are servers, but they still dress like dancers. They all wear equally revealing outfits, just like you and as you watch them move around so confidently, you start to get more and more nervous. What if Axel figures out you’re not a real dancer right away? Or if he notices the recorder pushed into your stomach? This plan is definitely not the safest you’ve ever come up with, and you are starting to doubt yourself now that you are so deep in it.

“Y/N?” you hear Harry’s faint voice in your ear. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out and hearing his voice calms your nerves a little.

“Everything alright?” First you nod, but then you realize he can’t see you.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Are you nervous?”

“Very,” you admit with an awkward chuckle. Luckily, Harry doesn’t bring his usual cockiness out, feeling how serious the situation is.

“You can still come out and we can just go home. You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to do this,” you firmly answer. “Just… talk to me a little. Please.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you about when I wanted to ask you out to prom,” you hear him start and you can’t push a smile down as you sit and wait, listening to his soothing voice. “You were wearing this pretty white sweater that day and tight jeans, you looked so fucking good, Y/N. I saw you walking to your locker and you smiled at some random guy and I was instantly jealous.”

“Really?” you ask quietly.

“O, yeah,” he chuckles. “I told you, I had a crush on you. So I thought about asking you out, wanted to just walk up to you and casually ask if you wanted to go with me. But then I just watched you and realized that you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me, so I just watched you get your books out of your locker and then you walked right past me, looked me in the eyes and I straight up felt my knees turn into jelly. Good thing I was leaning against the wall. You walked away and I never asked you out. Still regret that,” he admits and your heart flutters at his words.

As weird as it sounds, you remember that day. Especially because when your eyes met Harry’s you felt kind of the same. You felt intimidated and wondered why he was watching you so intently, but you would have never guessed he wanted to ask you out.

You see Sienna walking in, her eyes find you and you immediately know it’s show time.

“Harry?” you breathe out at last.

“Yeah?”

“I would have said yes,” you tell him before you follow Sienna out and the blasting music pushes down Harry’s voice in your earpiece.

The bright lights of the back are switched to the dim, red lighting in the main bar area, a dancer is already on the stage and the place seems packed for the night as all men are hungrily watching the girl on the stage, throwing dollar bills at her shamelessly.

Sienna pulls you to the bar and leans closer to your ear so you can hear what she is saying.

“He is in one of the private rooms, told him the dance is on the house to thank him for being a regular. I asked one of the guards to stand nearby.”

“Thank you, S,” you nod at her as she squeezes your hands.

“Good luck, girl,” she smiles a little bitterly before she shows you the way to the room where Axel is currently waiting for his private dance.

As you stop at the door you take a deep breath, staring at the doorknob for a moment, trying to brace yourself for whatever is about to happen in there.

“I’m going in,” you say, partially to yourself, but mostly to Harry so he knows what’s happening though you don’t hear an answer before you open the door and step inside.

The room is mostly what you were expecting, a small stage with a rod in the middle, across that a long, plush, deep burgundy couch. The walls are black, just the red led lights illuminating the place.

And there he is. Axel Morris is sitting in the middle of the couch, manspreading so widely like the asshole that he is, arms leisurely draped across the back of the couch as his hungry eyes immediately snap to your body.

Axel is big. He is a large man and you realize that the moment you see him. Though he is sitting you can easily tell that he’s tall and he is definitely bulky. Could end you in a blink of an eye and knowing that he is capable of murder is just an eerie thought that doesn’t leave you alone. But you suck it up and get into character, only thinking about one thing: help Harry out of this mess.

Music with low bass starts playing through the speakers as you make your way over to Axel who grins at you disgustingly, making it hard for you to keep the façade.

“Hey big boy, heard you’ve earned a dance for yourself,” you coo at him stopping at the edge of the stage as you keep eye-contact with him. You lean against the edge and spread your legs just enough to tease his imagination about what’s about to come.

“Hell yes, I did! Hope you’re a good dancer, babygirl. Haven’t seen you around here.”

“I’m new. But I’m really good, that’s why they sent me,” you smirk at him sweetly as you walk closer until you’re standing in front of him. He reaches out and grabbing your hips he pulls you to straddle his lap and it catches you by surprise but you don’t fall out of character.

“Then show me what you can do. What’s your name?” He licks his lips as you start moving, doing your best from movies you’ve seen with strippers in them.

“Crystabel, but you can call me yours,” you hum, grinding and bouncing yourself, completely unleashing your inner hoe. “Tell me, big boy. Are you as dangerous as you seem?”

“Oh baby, you have no idea,” he grins proudly.

“Really?” you coo, pushing yourself up against him. His dirty hands find your ass and you want to push them away so badly, but you let him have his way with you for the sake of the plan. “What’s the worst you’ve done?”

“Why does a pretty girl like you want to know about that, huh?” he cocks his head to the side, eyeing you with suspicion so you know you have to be careful.

“Because I have a thing for those stuff. I love pain and blood, it gets me off always,” you smirk at him teasingly, grinding yourself against him to divert his attention a little from the words spoken.

“Mm, yeah?”

“Yeah, I love that kind of stuff,” you moan, running your hands down your chest, his eyes hungrily following your every move and you know he is zoned out. It’s going perfectly.

“Well, I’m the perfect man for you then, babygirl. I’ve done all the things you can imagine.”

“Really? You are turning me on, big boy,” you murmur lowly, turning around for a bit so he can get a good glimpse of your backside as well. “Have you… taken anyone’s life before?” you bluntly ask, hoping you aren’t moving too fast and he won’t snap at you.

“Not sure I should be talking about that with you, pretty girl,” he smirks smugly. You turn back to face him, pushing your crotch against him as you try not to gag feeling his erection under you.

“I’m good with secrets, Honey. My lips are sealed,” you grin at him, stroking his oily face and try your best not to wipe your fingers into the cushion of the couch. Axel smirks at you, clearly enjoying the show you are putting on, his fingers are digging into your thighs as his eyes are practically glued to your chest.

“I’m a killer, babygirl.”

“Yeah?” you gasp, faking your excitement. “What did you do, big boy? Tell me, make me wet,” you purr biting into your bottom lip, pushing your chest out some more to distract him from his consciousness that might keep him from answering.

“Killed a guy recently,” he smugly admits and your adrenaline is high in the sky. You are so close to what you need!

“Oh my, sounds like a dirty job.”

“It was.”

“Saw it on the news a guy got killed not long ago, did you do that?” you smirk at him, his hand slapping your ass and you fight yourself not to punch him in the face.

“That Richards guy? Yeah,” he nods and you almost start screaming in your triumph. This dumbass really did just confess to you, because you had your ass and tits out for him!

“Cool. What’s your name, big guy? Wanna know who I’ll think of when I touch myself later,” you pant into his ear, you need him to say his name otherwise the confession might go to shit.

“I’m Axel, babygirl,” he grins, leaning dangerously close to you, he clearly wants to push his tongue down your throat but you push yourself away and up from his lap.

“Our time is up, big boy. See you later!” you sing and walk out of the room while he is still kind of zoned out.

The moment you are out, you start running. You can’t have him realize what just happened and stop you. Pushing your way back to the dressing room you grab all your stuff and spring out of the building. Harry is standing at the entrance, his ridiculous disguise is gone as he spots you with wide eyes. He probably heard everything and wanted to be there for you when you get out and as soon as you reach him he grabs your hand and the two of you run to the car. Right when you get into the car, you spot Axel running out from the front entrance and he definitely realized what just happened.

“Hey! Get back here you slut!” he shouts as Harry starts the car and you melt into the seat, scared of what’s about to happen because you see Axel reach to his back and the next thing you know is that he has a gun in his hand.

“Harry! Go!” you scream when you see him aim at the car and right at that moment, the wheels screech as Harry pushes the gas pedal to the fullest and the car yanks forward.

Your heart drops to the floor when a bullet shoots into the side of the car as Axel tries to stop the two of you. Harry takes a sharp turn and leaves the car park with full speed. You see Axel from the mirror, he is raging and keeps shooting after you, but he has no aim or whatsoever. You reach the end of the street and you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“Oh shit, fuck,” you mumble, chest heaving as you grab onto the armrest for some kind of leverage, your adrenaline is still pumping through your veins from the action movie-like scene that just happened.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry asks, eyes dancing between the road ahead of him and you as he tries to figure out if anything happened to you.

“I-I’m fine, he was just… fucking nasty to deal with you,” you groan at the thought of his hands on you. You’ll need the hottest shower after this, that’s for sure. “Go to the station, we gotta bring the tape in now,” you tell him as you reach into your corset. Pulling the recorder out you huff in relief, it’s been pressed into you for way too long. The tape is still rolling so you end it and then rewind it, checking if everything you need is on it. Luckily, it caught the whole thing perfectly, that means Harry is not going to jail. Well, not this time at least.

He is speeding down the streets as you get rid of the wig and put on your coat, you don’t want to walk into the police station dressed like a hooker and have the word spread that Robert’s sister has been making money some other way lately.

Arriving to the station you hold the recorder so tightly as if your life depends on it while Harry reaches for your other hand and firmly holds it in his warm palm. You walk inside and immediately spot Jeremy at the front desk. Letting go of Harry’s hand you run up to him.

“Jer, I got evidence for the Richards case! I got a confession on tape,” you beam at him holding the recorder up. He gives you a stunned look as he takes the recorder.

“Confession? How do you—“ He is cut off when you hear Harry’s voice from behind you.

“Hey! What the fuck!” he snaps and as you turn around you see that two officers are already on him, trying to handcuff him. Jeremy quickly forgets about the recorder as he joins in on strangling Harry. but you grab his arm and try to pull back.

“No! He didn’t do it! Listen to the tape!” you cry out, desperate to end this mess, but it feels like no one is listening to you.

“Harry Styles, you are under arrest for the murder of Dave Richards. You have the right…” One of the officers starts saying the usual speech as they drag Harry away while you are begging to Jeremy to listen to you.

“Jeremy! He didn’t fucking do it!” you scream, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks giving you a puzzled look. It was Axel Morris! One of Hugo McKain’s men! They are trying to frame Harry!” you explain, while Harry is being taken away. “Harry, no!” you shout after them, but the officers don’t stop.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I’ll be fine!” he calls after you before he disappears from your vision.

“Jeremy, please just listen to the fucking tape! I got his confession!”

“I’ll look into it, but I’m afraid Harry is spending the night here,” he sighs, looking down at the recorder before he walks away.

“Fuck, no!” you choke out.

When you finally stop crying you rush out of the building and call your brother, not even caring that it’s past midnight. He better answer your call or you are showing up at his house and start banging on his door until he opens it.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he growls into the phone.

“Robert, they fucking took Harry in! I had the confession on tape, but they just wouldn’t listen, they arrested him!”

“Hey, slow down, what are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath you tell him the whole story. The club, the dance, the confession and then how you came straight to the station but they arrested Harry without listening to you.

“Alright, you can’t do much now, Y/N. He is still a suspect but I’ll call Jeremy to look into the tape. If it’s found relevant Harry will be out in the morning okay?”

“Please come in early in the morning and make sure he is let out, please!” you cry out, feeling so helpless after everything that just happened.

“I will. Meet me at the station at six, okay? It’ll be alright. Go home, have some sleep and then we’ll make everything right in the morning.”

You do as Robert asked, go home, have a shower, wash the night off of your skin and lie in bed however you are not able to sleep, not even for a minute. You keep thinking about Harry and what might be happening to him now. They better get their shit together and let him out in the morning or you are losing your mind. You didn’t go through all this just to have him put behind bars anyway.

It’s not even six when you are already at the station, anxiously waiting for Robert to show up. You keep glancing up at the building, thinking about how Harry is somewhere in there and you can only hope he’ll be out with you shortly.

When Robert arrives he goes straight up to check out the situation with the tape and Harry. Waiting for him down in the hall is nerve-wrecking, you feel like time has stopped. When he finally appears again you jump to your feet running up to him with high hopes.

“The tape has been examined, it was classified as evidence. Jeremy has already put out an arrest warrant on Axel. Harry is no longer a suspect. He’ll be down once the paperwork is done.”

“Oh thank God!” you breathe out and throw yourself at him, hugging him tighter than ever.

“Look, but there is something I need to talk to you about,” he says with a serious look.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We might be able to get this Axel guy, but I’m pretty sure Hugo is already after the two of you. We have a whole team for him, working on catching him finally, but it might be smart if you just left town for a little.”

“Oh. Yeah, sounds logical,” you nod.

“Let me know if you need help with that. I can arrange something for you.”

“We’ll see. I have to talk to Harry first.”

“Harry, huh?” Robert smirks down at you knowingly and you feel yourself blushing. A lot has changed lately around you and Harry and you guess it’s quite evident for everyone else as well. “Just so you know, he asked about you during the night. Wanted to know if you are alright.”

“Yeah?” you breathe out with a small smile.

“Yes. Might have been wrong about him a little. Tell him I said hello, I need to get to work now,” he nods with a fond smile.

“Thank you, Robert!” you call after him as he waves in your way before disappearing in the elevator.

Waiting around in the hall you keep looking towards the hallway, hoping to see him appear finally, but the minutes are just dragging by way too slowly.

You’re impatiently sitting on one of the benches by the wall when you finally see him walking down the hallway, leisurely running his hand through his hair, a tired smile sitting on his lips when he sees you leap from your seat and launch at him, throwing yourself into his arms.

“Hey, hey! It’s all good, Love. Told you not to worry about me,” he chuckles, but holds you tight anyway, his arms wrapping around you as he lifts you off the ground, taking a few steps forward.

“Of course I fucking worry about you, idiot!” you mumble into his neck before leaning back you look at his pretty face.

“Yeah? Does this mean I had the right to worry about you last night?”

“You were?”

“Fuck yes,” he laughs. “You have no idea what it was like to sit outside and listen to everything that fucker told you. Wanted to punch him in the face so badly.”

“So heroic,” you grin at him, your face already inching closer to his, arms still wrapped around his neck.

“Only for my favorite stripper,” he winks at you, making you gasp.

“If you dare to bring it up again and call me a stripper, I swear to God I—“

You don’t get to finish your threat, because his hand snakes to the back of your neck and he pulls you into a hard kiss, his lips smashing against yours. Melting into the kiss you open your mouth for him without hesitation, his tongue meeting yours as he kisses you with so much vigor and passion, he makes you bend your back, leaning back as he holds you firmly in his strong arms. And suddenly, you feel like you’re seventeen again, making out with your high school crush in the school hallway, luckily, you are kissing the same person you wanted then.

“I’m fucking starving, babe,” he breathes out once you finally pull away from each other. “For you as well, but can we get some real food?” he asks as he laces his fingers together with yours, heading out of the station.

“Sure,” you chuckle. “Hey, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Love, told you, you can handcuff me to the bedframe, I’m into that stuff.”

“Shut up!” you laugh smacking his chest as the two of you walk out to your car. “It’s not about that,” you murmur with a soft blush. “Robert said we should leave for a while, Hugo might be after us after what happened last night.”

“Yeah, thought about that myself too,” he nods as he gets behind the wheel without even asking if you want him to drive or not.

“So what should we do?” you question, sitting in the comfort of your car. Harry reaches for your hand and brings it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly before he smirks at you.

“Have you been to Ireland, Love?”

“No,” you breathe out, a little stunned by the question.

“I have a friend over there, I’m sure he would love to have us there for a while. What do you say?”

“Are you for real? You want to go to Ireland with me?”

“Yeah, would be fun, don’t you think?”

“Okay,” you smile in awe. Even after that kiss you had doubts he would want to run away with you for the time being. But he is definitely planning to have you around longer. “Yeah, Ireland sounds fun.”

“Great. Then let’s head home to pack,” he smirks, starting the car. “Oh, Love?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget to bring your handcuffs,” he grins and you just laugh at his smugness before leaning closer to kiss him quickly before the two of you finally drive away from the station.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Lost and Found

Prompt: Hello, you can ignore this but can you write Logince hurt/comfort?

look there's been too much character angst in my notes recently so I'm giving you no-one-is-at-fault-sweet-protective-boys h/c tonight

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: logince can be platonic or romantic i don't care I'm to aroace to parse out which is which

Word Count: 3116

He’d just wanted to find Roman.

Or, Logan gets lost in the Imagination looking for Roman when the weather takes a turn.

He’d just wanted to find Roman.

Logan grits his teeth against the wind as he pushes further into the Imagination. His glasses get knocked askew by a particularly enthusiastic burst of wind and he winces, fixing them before shaking his head at himself.

“This isn’t real,” he mutters, still pushing forward, “this is the Imagination. It isn’t real. Nothing can really hurt me here.”

And Roman would never hurt me.

Logan turns. And turns. And turns. Where did he come from again?

Ah, yes, there’s the broken tree branch he stumbled into when he came into the clearing. That’s where he came from. So, logically, he should turn so that is at his back before continuing. Yes, that’s what he should do.

So he does, turning so that the tree branch is behind him and walking forward. Well, stumbling forward. There’s something wrong with his shoes, he decides as he looks down and sees his legs perfectly intact. Perhaps they are not ideal for slogging through windy forests. Which, alright, he cannot be fully blamed for, he was not intending on going on a quest today—he just wants to find Roman. They have plans today and they’d both been looking forward to them. So he needs to find Roman. Yes, that’s what he needs to do.

…where is Roman, again?

Logan frowns, still trying to hold his glasses in place against the wind that—if he were someone else, he would say it seems determined to strip him of them. But that’s ridiculous. Wind doesn’t have emotions or goals, and this wind isn’t real.

But then would that mean that it could have emotions or goals?

He shakes again and walks forward, narrowly dodging a broken tree branch. He winces as he stumbles into the trunk and narrowly avoids smashing his head into its side. He keeps going. It’s cold. It sends him more off-balance, sends him staggering into another tree. He reaches out to grip the bark and squeezes his eyes shut.

This isn’t real. I’m fine. I just need to find Roman and get out.

His fingers slip on the jagged bark as he pushes himself up. He moves forward.

Something hits his face. He flinches, hand coming up instinctively to block his path when something hits his hand. He flails, trying to swat it away, only for something else to hit his hand. And again. And again. He swipes at his face, trying to figure out what it is, what’s hitting him, only for his hand to come away damp.

Oh. It’s raining.

Indeed, his glasses become speckled with water droplets before he can fully come to this conclusion. His shirt begins to stick to his skin, his tie hangs limply, caught by the buttons. He grits his teeth anew and keeps pushing forward. Just get to Roman, just get to Roman.

…where is Roman?

Logan turns around. And turns. And turns.

He’s in a forest. Dark trees frown over him, the wind gleefully stripping bark and flinging it at him. He throws his arms up to protect his face. Rain stings as it slaps bare skin. It’s cold.

He turns once more and—

Smack!

Logan cries out as he stumbles, landing hard against the roots of a tree sprawled across the forest floor. His pants whine in protest as he collapses. His leg burns. A very quick, very absent-minded assessment says it’s not broken, not sprained, just scraped. But anything more than that would mean moving and the rain seems determined to pin him to the ground. The wind whistles against him, delighting in seeing him there, at the base of the tree, unable to move.

But he has to find Roman.

Roman will know what to do.

Roman won’t hurt him.

“Logan?” The wind starts to sound like Roman’s voice. “Logan? Logan, is that you? Logan!”

His eyes closed against the onslaught of bark, Logan reaches out, baring his arms to the wind, reaching for the voice that sounds too far away.

“Logan! Oh my stars, Logan, you’re hurt, what’re you doing here, come here—“

“R-roman?”

“Yes,” Roman says, and oh, there’s Roman, “I’m right here, my darling nerd, come on, come here, let’s just—let’s get you out of here. What are you doing here, you don’t even have a coat—“

“Thought I didn’t need one,” he slurs, belatedly realizing how warm Roman is, “not real.”

“Oh, Logan,” Roman sighs, fondness bleeding into his tone as he lifts—when did he get his arms around him?— Logan up and begins to walk, “you can’t solve all of your problems with object impermanence.”

“…watch me.”

“Gladly,” comes the murmur as a warm kiss is pressed against his forehead, “but not right now, hmm? Let’s get you warm.”

It takes a few moments of realizing that it’s over, he’s safe, he found Roman, for Logan to put the pieces together that he’s being carried out of Roman’s realm like a child.

“I can walk,” Logan protests, trying to free himself only to be thwarted by Roman’s hold, “you can put me down.”

“I’m sure I could, and I’m sure you can, sweetheart,” Roman murmurs, still walking without trying to put him down, “but you can also let me carry you.”

Logan does not pout, he doesn’t, as Roman walks them out of the Imagination. The wave of warm as they cross the threshold into Roman’s room grants him the immediate knowledge that had he been standing under his own power, the contrast would’ve sent him right back into Roman’s arms.

“Shh,” Roman says quietly when he lets out an unconscious gasp at how cold he must be, “shh, sweetheart, thankfully you’re not hypothermic. Let’s get you in the warm shower, okay?”

“No, wait—after drop, core temperature causes—“

“That’s when you’ve been swimming,” Roman corrects, still carrying Logan as they make it to the bathroom, “not out in the rain.”

“Oh.” Logan blinks. “I—didn’t mean to go swimming.”

Roman chuckles, setting him down carefully on the steps to the bathtub. He reaches up to gently take off Logan’s glasses, drying them on a soft towel and sliding them back on. Logan blinks, trying to orient himself in Roman’s bathroom.

“…has this room always been this…extravagant?”

He’s rewarded with another laugh from Roman as they look around. Really, the last time Logan remembers being in here, it had looked much like Thomas’s bathroom. Shower, mirror, toilet, sink, a few cabinets. But now—

Now he’s sitting on the steps up to a truly massive bathtub, across the room from an equally massive walk-in shower. The vanity looks large enough for him to lie across with room to spare, the two sinks just below enormous mirrors. The toilet looks like—well, a throne.

It’s a miracle of a bathroom.

“Janus helped me make it,” Roman says softly, calling his attention back with a gentle hand under his chin, “it doesn’t stay all the time, but when someone needs to be spoiled, this is what it looks like.”

“Who needs to be spoiled?”

Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “You, sweetheart, you’re freezing. Come on, let’s get you into the shower. I’ll grab something soft for you to wear afterward.”

Logan nods, attempting to get up to do as Roman bids only to wince. Roman, turning away, immediately crouches back down, hands reaching in concern.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart,” he murmurs, looking him over, “can I help? What can I do?”

“I fell.” Logan stubbornly ignores the flush in his face as he gestures weakly toward his leg. “Tripped on a root, I think it’s scraped.”

Roman winces in sympathy, reaching to hover his hand over where Logan indicates. “Sometimes I swear those trees are trying to trip me.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth. “It’s not Remus, is it?”

Roman laughs. “No, no, when he wants you on the ground, he doesn’t stop at passively trying to trip you. Trust me.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Roman’s hand lands on the scrape and he sucks in air through his teeth. “There.”

“Mm, I can feel how warm it is. You poor thing…alright. There’s a first aid kit in the left drawer over there—yes, that one, and the stuff in the shower is meant to be gentle. I’d avoid trying to clean it fully, that’s going to hurt, but just enough to make sure there’s nothing in the wound.”

“I understand.”

Roman pats his knee and stands. “I’ll be just outside, take as long as you need. I’ll leave the clothes on the counter, okay?”

Logan tries to look up and winces. The bright lights and the white tile make it difficult to keep his eyes open without his glasses.

“…sweetheart?”

“Can it be—“ Logan waves his hand at the ceiling— “less?”

“Of course, here—give me your hand.” Roman helps him stand, slips his arm around his waist, and guides him to the shower. He presses Logan’s hand against the wall to feel the set of light switches. “There’s one that controls all the lights, one for the overhead, one for the shower light, and one for the fan.”

Logan clicks a couple of times until he can look up again, yellow light spilling into the shower area and only the shower area. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Roman kisses the back of his hand and leaves him be.

Peeling himself out of his damp clothes takes longer than he expected, but his frustration is tempered by the knowledge that he’s here, he found Roman, Roman would never let him be hurt in his own bathroom, and that it’s okay, now.

Everything is okay.

He leaves his clothes laid out on the steps, his glasses set on the counter nearest the shower. The curtain has the same weight as a key in his hand. The warm water beats down over his shoulders, flowing softer over his leg. He can’t see it too well in the soft light, but he can make out the angry red skin and it still feels too hot to the touch. He winces as the water hits the wound, turning so it hits his head first. After a moment, he lies down, the cool tiles beneath him the perfect contrast to the pitter-patter of warm water on his front.

Logan lies there, in the warm light, soft under the water, and remembers how to breathe.

When his chest no longer aches from the cold, he stands, shutting off the water and reaching for the towels. Oh, Roman must have heated towel racks; the towel he wraps himself in is so, so, warm. A noise escapes his mouth as he walks over to the pile of clothes left on the counter. A glance over his shoulder shows Roman must’ve come in while he was drifting. His wet clothes are gone too. He reaches for the dry ones only to wince when the towel rubs against the scrape on his leg.

Right.

He turns on the brighter lights, wincing and trying to see the full scope of the injury. It doesn’t look good; he’s scraped along most of his upper thigh, red and angry and too sore for him to rest his weight on. There’s probably not much he can do. It’s not severe enough to merit a full bandage and smearing any sort of cream over that much surface area just guarantees it’ll get on something he’d rather it didn’t. He sighs and exits the bathroom only to pause.

Oh, Roman’s turned his fairy lights on.

Roman glances up from under the strings of lights hanging around his room, smiling when he sees Logan and holding out his arms. The room is dim, not too dark that he can’t see, but not bright and shining as it normally is. Roman is still in his prince costume, looking every bit like he’s stepped out of a storybook. Logan suddenly feels very underdressed in the pajama shirt and shorts.

“Come here,” Roman calls when Logan hesitates, “let me have a look at you.”

Logan moves, making to sit next to Roman when Roman stops him with a hand on his hip.

“…did you not find the first aid kit?”

Oh. “There’s not much use in it. It’s not bad enough to cover and I—“

Roman moves his hand to touch the scrape and Logan flinches. At Roman’s fond yet disappointed look, something like shame bubbles up in his chest.

“…will you help me?”

“Always,” Roman says, pushing Logan’s hip, “now lie down. I’ll be right back.”

Logan lies down, worrying a little about getting anything on Roman’s bed only for Roman to hush any protests and tuck a pillow under his head.

“Don’t strain your neck. I’ll be right here.”

Logan tries, but as soon as he feels the bed sag behind him and the clunk of the first aid kit opening he tenses.

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t—can’t do this. Not like this.” He shakes his head. “I can’t see you. I don’t know where you’re—when you’re going to touch me.”

“Okay.” Roman moves to crouch in front of him. “I still need to be able to see your leg. Can we try something else?”

They end up with Logan resting against Roman’s shoulder, his leg across Roman’s lap. Roman takes one of Logan’s hands and rests it on his arm.

“It’s on the outside of your thigh,” he says, “so I’m going to need you to turn it or I’m going to have to lean over. Either way, I won’t always be looking at you so if you need me to stop at any time, squeeze.”

Roman won’t hurt him. Roman won’t let him be hurt. His hands are gentle as he applies the cream, strong enough to hold Logan’s leg in place without it hurting. When he brushes a raw part of the scrape and Logan hisses, he rubs soothing circles into the skin with his thumb as Logan lets out a breath over a few seconds.

“Good.”

Only when Roman starts making sure the cream is properly rubbed in does Logan realize he’s focusing more on the dry warmth of Roman’s hand than the slight sting of the cream. He’s more focused on the slight furrow of Roman’s brow than the angry red welts on his leg. He’s more focused on the way his leg rests in Roman’s lap, in Roman’s grip, Roman’s arms flexing and relaxing under his hand than the slight strain of keeping his leg turned.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Roman, of course, can feel the moment he tenses, no matter how small, stopping his motions and looking up at Logan’s face. Logan, of course, would rather Roman didn’t look at his face right now and turns away, steadfastly focusing on the wound on his leg and not the way his face heats up under Roman’s focus. But then there are fingers under his chin that turn him back to Roman’s face and that’s not fair. Roman simply raises an eyebrow, wordlessly asking in a way that ensures Logan can’t speak.

Have Roman’s eyes always been that color brown?

He can see the moment realization clicks by the way Roman’s face softens, mouth curling up in the way it does when he’s about to tease Logan for the next hour. Logan flinches only for Roman to cup the side of his face and hold him still.

“Eyes closed now, Specs,” Roman murmurs instead, thumb running over his leg.

“W-what?”

“Close your eyes,” he repeats, “let me put the bandage on and we’ll be done.”

Logan opens his mouth again but Roman raises his eyebrows.

“Closed.”

He hears the gentle pull of the tape, feels Roman’s warm hands tape the gauze in place. Feels one of Roman’s arms hook under his leg, the other around his back, hears the soft thump of the covers as Roman stands, turns, and lays him down properly. He hushes the soft noise of surprise and snaps his fingers, the prince costume turning to pajama under Logan’s hand.

“We had plans,” Logan protests blearily as he feels Roman slide his glasses off his face, “we were going to—to—“

“To what, sweetheart,” comes the murmur next to his ear when he can’t finish his sentence, “what were we going to do?”

He grits his teeth in frustration, much to Roman’s amusement.

“Relax, Specs,” he chuckles, “it’s alright. I’ll be right here when you remember what we were going to do. In the meantime, why don’t you just lie here with me?”

Logan bites back a curse. Damn Roman for being as perceptive as he is, and damn him for knowing it’s working.

“Shh,” as a hand strokes his cheek, “none of that, now, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

“Should’ve known a prince could never resist a damsel in distress,” he bites out, just to have something to say.

“Oh? Is that why you came into the storm with no jacket?” Damn. “So I’d have to come save you? Logan, really, if you wanted my attention, you needn’t resort to such extremes.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says in a way he hopes doesn’t sound as much like a whine as he thinks it does.

Judging by Roman’s chuckle, it’s definitely a whine. “Oh, Logan, you know you always have my attention.”

“Stop teasing.”

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, “you’re so teaseable.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now.” Before he can open his mouth again, there’s a kiss pressed to his cheek and warm arms around him. “Now shush, my dearest nerd, and rest. My damsel’s hurt.”

Through the rapidly growing drowsiness, Logan manages to mutter: “not your damsel.”

“Of course not,” Roman coos, “you’re my Logan.”

“Roman!”

He laughs again, a hand coming up to ruffle his damp hair. “Come here, roll onto your side—yes, that’s it. There. Let me hold you. This way you won’t roll onto the scrape and hurt yourself.”

Roman’s leg wraps through his, drawing him into a gentle pin. Nothing that will work if Logan actually wants to be free—and he knows Roman would let him go the instant he asks. The hand in his hair threatens to lull him right to sleep, but not before he says thank you.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” comes the reply, the other hand scratching lightly between his shoulder blades, “now you just lie there and fall asleep to me.”

Just before he slips under, he hears one last whisper.

“Me too, Logan, me too.”

Logan drifts off in Roman’s arms, safe, warm, found.

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[manonblaqkbeak]

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

[random-tinies]

The Quest For Blue

Some light-hearted Hurt No Comfort for a tiny Ghostbur as he searches for blue to give to his family. ^^ 2.1k words

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The day is like any other in Ghostbur’s ghostly life. The sun is shining, the sea breeze blows through Friend’s blue wool, and he’s hanging out with Tommy in front of his tnret. The tiny ghost flops on his pet sheep and points to the left. “Let’s go say hi to Tommy, Friend!”

Friend baas and trots over to the dirty crime boy. Ghostbur floats up and sits on his younger brother’s shoulder, floating a few millimeters above his clothing. “Hello, Tommy! Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

Tommy walks into his tnret and gives Ghostbur a strange look as if the small ghost had grown antlers. Ghostbur feels his head to make sure he didn’t. “No it’s not. It’s raining out.”

“What?”

Ghostbur looks back outside the tnret and sure enough, rain is pouring down on the small island. Lightning flashes and thunder rolls over the trio, sounding as if the sky was falling down. The small spector gasps and floats at the entrance. “Friend! Friend, come here! Don’t get wet! I won’t be able to hug you then!”

The docile sheep walks under the wool shelter and starts chewing on Tommy’s torn shirt. Ghostbur opens his mouth to scold his dearest sheep, but Tommy lets out a heavy sounding sigh that stirs a sour emotion in Ghostbur’s soul. He floats back up to him and asks, “What’s wrong, Tommy?”

His brother’s voice sounds about as gloomy as the sudden turn in weather outside. “I’ve done a lot of bad, Ghostbur. I’ve hurt a lot of people. I am alone. I have no friends.”

Ghostbur huffs and folds his arms. Are they not friends? Does Ghostbur not do his best to cheer Tommy up every day? “Well at least you have me! I’m your friend, Tommy!”

Tommy merely sighs and turns away. “I’ve hurt you, too, Ghostbur. You’re stuck here because of me.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “I chose to be here, Tommy! Lads on Tour, remember?”

Tommy lays on his bedroll and doesn’t respond. Ghostbur takes out some blue dye and sets it next to him. “Here, have some blue.”

The tall child closes his eyes, a quiet pained expression on his face. The ghostly tiny turns to his giant sheep and says, “This may take more blue than I thought. We’ll have to go out and find some!” He looks outside. “Oh, but the rain…”

“Baa!”

“Oh! You’re right, Friend!” Ghostbur beams at the blue sheep. “I can just walk under you!”

And so, the two set off through the rain, heading into an oak and birch forest that soon turns into a spruce forest with snow covering the ground. Ghostbur notices the snow drifts getting deeper and deeper until he’s forced to fly out from under Friend, who baas at him in protest to the cold snow, or risk melting in the ground. “I’m sorry, Friend! I was sure I was going the right way but we haven’t seen anything but red poppies here…”

A shadow falls over the duo and Ghostbur looks up. A large dark grey wing is extended above them and a tall, dark figure towers over them. A veil hangs off of his large green and white hat, hiding his face, and a dark grey and green robe falls off his shoulders. One wing is wrapped in bandages. Ghostbur smiles at the taller gentleman. “Hello, Phil!”

“Wil, what are you doing all the way out here in the snow? You’ll melt.” Although he can’t see his face, Phil’s voice is soft, interlaced with worry.

Ghostbur cheerfully answers him. “I’m getting blue for Tommy! Do you have any that I can use?”

A few tears drip down to the ground from under the veil. “All of the blue you gave me was used up, remember? I miss Wilbur.”

Ghostbur frowns, an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “You sound like you could use more blue. I’ll make sure to stop by here on my way back and give you some when I find it!”

Philza doesn’t react to what he says. “Why are you all the way out here in the middle of a snow storm? Are you lost?”

Ghostbur shakes his head, then pauses and scratches the back of his neck, sitting atop Friend’s head. “We were trying to get back to L’manburg. I know I have some blue in my chests there!”

Philza shakes his head, the wind blowing the snow around them in a blindingly white swirl for just a second. “Oh, Ghostbur… L’Manburg is gone. It was blown up.”

A pit of dread forms in the tiny’s soul. His brows knit together and he looks at Philza in horrified confusion, denial already forming a wall in his mind. “What?”

The giant birdman points with an ominous finger ahead of them. “If you’d like to reach L’Manburg, go through that portal. The snow storm is picking up. You don’t want to be caught in it.”

Ghostbur blinks and looks ahead at the previously empty forest path. Sure enough, a Nether portal stands tall, the brilliant purple shine cutting through the snow with ease. “Oh, you’re right! Philza, would you- Oh!”

A gust of wind comes again and Ghostbur shuts his eyes and nestles into Friend’s wool to avoid the worst of the snow. When he looks up again, his father is gone, vanished into the strange pine forest. “Oh… Well, I suppose we’d better head into the Nether if we want to get that blue, Friend. Off we go!”

Friend trudges through the snow drifts and steps through the portal into the blistering heat of the Nether dimension. It’s oddly silent, no piglin sounds or ghast blasts to greet them on the other side. Just the ominous vwooping sound of the portal behind them as they step onto the warm netherack.

Ghostbur takes a shaky breath, gripping Friend’s wool in his hands. The sheep headbutts him lightly. He pushes back with a laugh. “Yes, yes, I know. Just a short walk, right? We won’t be here long enough for something bad to happen.”

And with that, the two set off into the Nether. Friend’s ears flick from time to time as they traverse the dry area. After a while, the scenery starts looking the same. He swears they’ve passed the same lava pit at least three times now. This trip is turning out to be much longer than he thought.

The silence is strangely deafening. The glow of the lava is harsh and Friend’s wool is gaining a reddish hue from brushing against the netherack. Ghostbur takes out some blue dye and reapplies it to the sheep’s wool with a sigh. “I think we may be lost. I don’t know who we’re going to ask for help, though! There’s nobody around for chunks…”

A gruff voice and footsteps surprise the duo. A large shadow looms over them. “Ghostbur? What are you doing here? It’s dangerous in the Nether.”

The spector smiles as he turns around and zooms up to greet his brother’s seemingly bored face. “Technoblade! What luck that you found us! Me and Friend were trying to find the portal to L’Manburg so I can get some blue for Tommy!”

He hugs the piglin hybrid’s snout and floats a ways in front of him. Technoblade sighs and gives Ghostbur a gentle pat on the head, hand phasing through the tiny ghost slightly. He starts to walk in the direction Ghostbur and Friend were heading. “They don’t call me the human GPS for nothing. I’ll show you the way.”

The suffocating atmosphere of the hellish dimension eases up on Ghostbur as he and Friend trot after him. He gladly starts babbling away to his estranged brother. “Oh, thank you, Techno! I was getting worried we would never find our way out of here. See, we were heading this direction but I think we were going in circles! I don’t remember ever turning but you know my memory.”

Techno fixes him with a pitiful stare for a moment, pausing. There’s an aching feeling that tugs at Ghostbur’s soul as he’s trapped by it. Oh, he thinks, Techno must be sad too. I’ll make sure to find him later and give him some blue too!

Ghostbur continues cheerfully rambling on. “I ran into Philza earlier too! He was… well, I don’t quite remember but he helped Friend and I find the portal here! Sort of like you are too, come to think of it-”

“We’re here.” Technoblade interrupts with his signature monotone inflection, gesturing to a simple nether portal and turning back towards them. “Be careful out there. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Oh! Don’t worry, Technoblade!” The tiny ghost gives him an award-winning smile. “I’m already dead! I can’t get hurt.”

The piglin hybrid gives him a wistful smile and a pat on the head for both of them. He opens his mouth to say something but a loud cry from a ghast interrupts him. He whirls around with a shining netherite sword and bats the incoming fireball away. “Go! I’ll hold it off!”

The sudden appearance of a ghast startles the two fellows but Ghostbur hangs onto Friend as the sheep bolts towards the portal after a fireball explodes near them. He closes his eyes as they charge through the purple gateway.

Panic spikes through Ghostbur as he comes out the other side alone, facing blackstone walls. Oh dear, this isn’t where he meant to end up. These are the walls inside the prison where Dream is kept. He spins in a circle, looking around the room. “Friend? Where did you go?”

The portal shatters, the pieces dissolving into the air. Warden Sam walks up behind him, fixing him with a suspicious look. “I thought you said you were alone. Who’s this friend you’re talking about?”

The tiny spector jumps at the sudden appearance of the creeper hybrid, the red eyes burning holes into his transparent form. “Oh! Oh, uh! Nobody! I came alone and there’s no one with me!” He can’t place it, but something about the situation is making him very anxious. Confusion swims through his mind. He must be forgetting something. “I must have left Friend outside with Tommy…”

Feeling down about this, he reaches into his pockets to pull out some of his emergency blue, but his pockets are empty. “Ah? Where are my things? My book? My blue?”

“You put them in the chest,” Sam says. “You can have it back when you’re done visiting the prisoner.”

“Okay…”

Ghostbur doesn’t remember wanting to visit the prisoner. He just remembers looking for more blue to give to his family. And now he is stuck following this very spooky man down a very spooky staircase to a very spooky wall of lava with no blue to take away his fear and no Friend to keep him company. How had he ended up here?

Slowly, the lava parts, forming a walkway to the prison cell where a white, porcelain head smiles at him. Despite the heat, a chill goes up his spine. Ghostbur grips his sweater and looks back at Sam for reassurance but there’s no sign the hybrid had even been in the room. “Um- S-Sam? Are you hiding?”

Ghostbur wishes he could hide too. He’s not sure he’s going to find any blue over here. He turns around and gasps, suddenly much, much closer to Dream than before. The lava closes behind him as the monster stands. Ghostbur doesn’t remember crossing the sea of lava to get here but he must have because now there’s nothing separating him from this… friend? Tormentor? He doesn’t remember.

His chest is heaving with air he doesn’t need as Dream casually steps towards him, the mouth on his chest grinning impossibly wide. Dread forms in the pit of his stomach as a clawed hand reaches for him. He curls in on himself floating in the air, tears pricking at his eyes, terror thrumming through his heart.

He jerks awake with a yell and looks around for Friend. The cold, dark walls of the subway greets him and he curls up on himself, careful not to touch the wet floor. Shadowy figures who shift and shake if he looks at them crowd around the tubeline. He hiccups, tears welling in his eyes and burning their way down his cheeks.

“Oh, that’s right… I’m alone…”

He grips the blue stain in his sweater. His voice is impossibly quiet.

“I have no blue and I have no Friend…”

He starts crying, missing his family members, missing his sheep, missing the blue he would use to calm down. He sniffles.

“I’m sorry… I just wanted to make you all feel better…”