#I would have gotten this one out sooner but Four demanded I only focus on his gremlin attitude

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

.

.

.

…Hi :D

(As always, thank you Yandy for the advice. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹)

Okie Dokie! Time to grow this bread into a sandwich!

(HAHAHA! I queued this so i could catch a certain friend off guard with a randomly timed post~ You know who you are missy~! Also imma be sleeping in, i wuv you? 🥹)

.

.

.

.

It began as nothing more than idle curiosity.

Whispers of a wanderer, who seemed to appear wherever monsters were slain.

Tales passed from traveler to traveler, trickling into villages like a strange current. At first, the stories were nothing more than entertainment—a young soul battling hordes of beasts sounded like the stuff of fairy tales, and the people, insulated in their small hamlets, hardly gave it a second thought.

“They’ve been seen by the dead forests near the mountains,” a young woman said one day, her voice a little too loud, a little too eager. “They say the bodies of monsters are strewn across the path they walks.”

Another woman chimed in, her voice hushed but with the kind of excitement that comes from having something new to share. “I’ve heard the same. A merchant passed through not long ago and claimed he saw the aftermath—bodies mangled, monsters torn apart, and not a soul in sight but one person who merely walked away.”

An old man sitting nearby scoffed, whittling a piece of wood as he listened to their chatter. “And the merchant just happened to be wandering through such dangerous lands, did he? More likely, he’s spinning stories to lighten your pockets.”

The first woman bristled. “It was near one of the main roads to Castle Town! You know as well as anyone how bad it’s gotten out there, what with all the rising monster attacks!”

The old man spat onto the ground. “So we’re meant to believe a single person has been wandering the wilderness, killing monsters for no reason? at all? Appeared out of nowhere, slaying hundreds, then vanishing to appear somewhere else? What next? Will the gods themselves descending to pat them on the back?”

A few of the villagers glanced toward the argument, but quickly averted their eyes, pretending not to listen. They didn’t want to get involved. Not in this. The rumors had been growing more persistent lately, and with them, something darker—an unease, like a shadow creeping closer.

Despite the arguments to the contrary, the stories refused to fade. In fact, they spread—spreading like wildfire from one village to the next, whispered by travelers passing through, by farmers returning from the markets.

At first, it was always the same—a wanderer with a sword, fighting monsters. But over time, the stories shifted slightly. The monsters were no longer the only ones falling to the mysterious wanderer’s blade.

The rumors became darker.

Now, there were whispers of men slain, bandits cut down as mercilessly as the beasts. Some even claimed it wasn’t simply bandits, but ordinary travelers who had crossed their path. And the wanderer—always just one person, faceless, nameless—never stepped foot in the villages. They never appeared in the markets or by the wells. No one had ever actually seen them properly, or at least, no one wanted to admit they had.

“Such a person’s never come through here,” the villagers would say when a traveler asked. “Not once.”

And yet… as the stories persisted, as the fear crept into their voices, some began to contradict themselves. “I’ve seen them,” one of their own might exclaim in a moment of nervous excitement. “It was at the edge of the village, just for a second. They passed by the old road near the woods.”

But no one wanted to admit the dread that twisted in their stomachs. No one wanted to acknowledge the silent fear that settled in their bones whenever they heard of this wanderer. So they waved it off, forcing laughter, pretending the tale of the slayer didn’t chill them to the core.

“Bah, you saw nothing,” the old man would scoff again, though this time, his hands shook as he whittled. “It’s just travelers talking. You lot are too easily swayed by gossip.”

But even he couldn’t explain why the stories never seemed to stop. Why, even in the most remote corners of the land, the whispers were the same. Villages miles apart, separated by rivers and mountains, somehow all spoke of the same person.

A wanderer no one had ever truly seen upclose.

But one they all slowly grew to fear.

And they feared most of all that one day, he would come to their homes. They feared what would happen if that person came too close—if the stories, after all this time, were not just stories…

…

——

——

…

…Their stomach growled, sharp and insistent, echoing louder than the wind that howled through the mountains. They gone too long without food, too long without proper rest.

For days, weeks, perhaps, They had survived on scraps found in the wild, gnawing on whatever edible plants they could find, but it wasn’t enough. (There was never enough in these poisoned lands.) Not anymore.

Their supplies had run dry days ago. The bag slung across their back was light, too light for any sensible traveler. Their lips were dry, their limbs heavy, but they kept walking. Always walking. Always wandering towards their next location,

The nearby village was close now, maybe half a day away.

…

…they didn’t want to go there.

Didn’t want to face people, to hear the loudness, the gossip, the looks.

They never did, not anymore. It was easier staying in the wilderness, always on the move. But hunger gnawed at them, dragging them toward the edges of civilization.

The monsters had been thinning out in this area, their numbers dwindling after they swept through the mountains. The monsters would inevitably return. They always did.

They didn’t care about any of that, their mind was set on one thing: food.

(Oh… to be back in the bountiful fields and forests of other times. To gaze into the sea of green and know plentiful food and fresh clean water was bountiful and untainted.)

Their steps quickened as they neared the village. They hated this part, being around people. So they would get what they needed and leave. That was all.

—-

—-

“Today, a wanderer is walking towards town from the north side! Guardsman says it’s a single person in a cloak, carrying a sword on their back.”

The words spread through the village like wildfire. The people had heard that the guard had seen him from a distance, a lone figure making their way toward them from the mountains. Conversations hushed, children were pulled back into their homes.

A few curious villagers lingered by the entrance, pretending to go about their day but keeping a close eye on the road. When the person arrived, they noticed their clothes were heavily travel-worn and stained with dark splotches, their face obscured by a cloak, but the sword strapped to their back gleamed in the sunlight.

No one wanted to be the first to approach.

—

—

They walked with purpose, ignoring the stares, the muttered suspicions. They made their way to the village’s small market, looking for food, something to ease the gnawing hunger in their gut.

Their footsteps were heavy, each one dragging them closer to their destination. The familiar pull of hunger clawed at their insides, twisting their stomach in knots.

As much as they wanted to avoid people, to slip by unnoticed, the ache in their belly wouldn’t let them.

The village was small, unremarkable, the kind they preferred.

They had kept their head down as they entered, walking toward the market stalls that lined the dusty road. No one spoke to the visitor as they passed, but no doubt the visitor could feel the eyes on their back, the whispers barely contained as the visitor passed.

“Do you think that’s the one who killed those travelers near the mountains?”

“I can’t tell…aren’t they a bit too young looking?.”

“I can certainly tell you that sword doesn’t look like it’s simply for show. It’s stained red at the handle.”

The visitor stopped in front of a stall selling bread and dried meats. The man behind the counter was older, his skin weathered from years in the sun.

He barely looked up at first, busy wrapping a loaf of bread for another customer. When he did, he seemed unimpressed by the cloaked figure standing before him, just another traveler passing through.

But then they reached up, pulling back their hood.

The old man froze, his hands stilling over the goods on his counter. The boy’s face was young—far too young (as young as his own grandchild…) to be traveling alone with a mere sword on his back.

For a moment, the man blinked, unsure if he was seeing things correctly. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask where the boy’s parents were, but the words never came out.

It wasn’t the youth that gave him pause. It was the look in the boy’s eyes.

Dark, heavy, burdened by something much older than his years. The kind of look you only saw in soldiers or those who had lived through nightmares. A look that shouldn’t belong to someone so young.

The old man swallowed hard, choosing his next words carefully. “What… what can I get for you?”

The boy’s eyes flickered to the food laid out on the stall. “Bread,” he said, his voice quiet, soft, but firm. “And dried meat, if you have any.”

The old man nodded slowly, still taken aback. Such a young boy.

He slowly reached for a loaf and a strip of dried meat, wrapping them in cloth before handing them over.

The boy reached into his pocket, pulling out a few rupees and placing them on the counter.

His hand was steady, but the old man noticed how thin his fingers were, how the veins stood out beneath his pale skin.

“Are… you’re traveling alone?” the old man asked, unable to help himself.

The boy looked up, his gaze meeting the old man’s for the briefest moment before dropping back to the food in his hands. “Yes.”

The old man hesitated, wanting to ask more, but something stopped him.

That look—he couldn’t shake it. He didn’t know what the boy had seen, what he had been through, but it was clear enough that the boy didn’t want to talk about it. Not to a complete stranger. So he let it go.

“Well,” the old man said, clearing his throat, “safe travels, then.”

The boy gave a nod, pulling his hood back up before turning and walking away, the whispers behind him growing louder as he moved through the market.

As he continued down the road, passing more stalls, a man suddenly stepped forward, blocking his path. He was broad shouldered and rough around the edges, from his state of dress, he was a guard in this village.

His expression hardened with suspicion. The villagers nearby quieted, turning their attention to the scene unfolding before them.

“You there,” the man called out, his voice gruff. His eyes narrowed, scanning the cloaked figure up and down. “You the wanderer everyone’s been talking about? The one slaying beasts… and men around these parts?”

The boy didn’t stop right away, his pace slowing only as he came to a halt just a few feet from the man. His face was half-shadowed beneath the hood he’d just pulled back up, and the weight of his gaze was unreadable as it fell on the man blocking his path.

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question. His voice, when he spoke, was soft. Unconcerned. “Am I who you’re looking for?”

The man’s scowl deepened. “Don’t play coy, boy. People talk of a wanderer who has been leaving bodies behind wherever he walks.”

The young boy blinked, slowly, his expression unreadable beneath the quiet calm that seemed to settle around him like a heavy fog.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t bristle at the accusation. He merely stared at the man for a moment, his voice soft when he spoke again. “And if I am?”

A murmur rippled through the crowd that had begun to gather, villagers shifting uncomfortably as they watched the exchange. The man before him, however, remained rigid.

“Then I’ve heard well about you. The rumors going around that you’ve killed not just monsters, but people. Merchants and travelers. Is that true?”

The boy stopped, his gaze lifting slowly from beneath his hood to meet the man’s eyes. He didn’t answer right away, but the air around him seemed to thicken, the tension palpable. More villagers gathered around, drawn in by the confrontation.

“You…knew someone I killed, then?” the boy asked, his voice quiet but steady.

The man took a step forward, jabbing a finger in Hyrule’s direction. “They say you killed a merchant not far from here.”

Hyrule blinked slowly, his face impassive as he absorbed the man’s words. He didn’t flinch at the accusation, nor did he show any sign of fear or guilt. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and steady. “Was he…someone worth recalling?”

The man’s nostrils flared. “Don’t play dumb with me!” he snapped. “He was a good man. A friend of mine, and I want answers, boy.”

“I killed many.” The boy replied, no change to his soft tone, “So perhaps I am who you seek.”

“So you admit you killed him!” The man exclaimed, “Why? What reason could you possibly have to murder an innocent man?”

“I have no reason to kill an innocent man.” He answered.

The boy remained quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting past the man, as if lost in thought. Then, with the same quiet calm, he spoke again. “He wasn’t innocent.”

The man took a moment to register what he said, eyes widening in shock. “…What?” His face turned red with anger.

“What do you mean he wasn’t innocent?!? He has done so much and I’ve known him for years-“

“He raped a woman.”

That once sentence silenced the entire area.

Many paling, several covering their mouths in horror.

The man’s red face immediately turning white as he registered what was said.

“He dared commit such an atrocity against a woman. Took from her what wasn’t his to take. I killed him for it.”

The boy’s eyes slowly returned to the man’s, his voice still soft, still unwavering.

“Would you still call him innocent now?”

The crowd gasped, whispers rippling through the gathered villagers. The man’s face twisted in disbelief, shaking his head violently. “No… no, you’re lying!” he shouted, his voice rising. “He wouldn’t do something like that! He was a good man!”

The boy’s gaze didn’t waver, the weight of his words settling in the air with finality. “He was a rapist,” he said quietly, everyone who heard him flinching from the declaration. “And I killed him for it.”

The man took a stumbling step back, his face contorted with rage and denial. “You… you can’t just say that! You don’t get to decide who lives and dies, you are a BOY! He was my friend!”

The boy’s expression remained calm, his voice never rising. “I didn’t make the decision. He did. When he forced himself on her. I simply responded as I should.”

For a moment, the man looked as though he might lash out, his fists trembling at his sides. But before he could do anything, a woman’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Is it true?” Both boy and man looked at her.

“Did that friend of his truly… deflower a lass against her will?” She asked again.

“He did.” He answered, more whispers erupting from the crowd.

“If it’s true,” the woman said, stepping forward from the crowd, “then…then he deserved it!”

“WHAT?!?”

The man turned to her, his face a mask of disbelief. “You… you’re defending this? Defending him?”

“Aren’t you defending a vile man?” The woman said, crossing her arms, her eyes hard as she stared back at him as he stuttered to come up with a response. “If that friend of yours truly defiled a woman like this boy says, then he got what was coming to him.”

More murmurs spread through the crowd, this time in agreement. Some of the women nodded, their expressions grim but resolute. The man looked around, his face twisting as he searched for support, but found none.

“This… this can’t be happening,” he muttered, his voice breaking slightly. “He wouldn’t..we…we was friends…since we was kids…”

Many in the crowd looked at the man in sympathy. Such news was never handled well. Especially when it involved someone you were close to.

The young boy stood there, silent, watching the man’s reaction with the same calm detachment. The man’s shoulders sagged in defeat, but he wasn’t ready to give up. “It…doesn’t matter. You still killed him. We’ll have to report this.”

Before he could take step forward, the boy spoke up, “No. You won’t.”

The man froze, turning back to face the boy, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “What?”

The boy didn’t move, his gaze still fixed on the man. “You won’t report this.”

There was no malice in his voice, no threat. Just a calm, quiet certainty that sent a ripple of unease through the gathered crowd.

The villagers shifted uncomfortably, murmurs of confusion spreading like wildfire, but no one dared to step forward.

The man’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

The boy’s calm, unhurried tone seemed to strip the anger from him, leaving only the shock and disbelief that he was grappling with. He shook his head, almost as if trying to shake off the weight of the boy’s words. “I— H..How dare you..I have to report this!”

“No,” the boy repeated, his soft-spoken voice steady, unnervingly gentle. “You don’t. You now know what he did, and can now shun him for it. Just as everyone else already has.”

The man faltered, his hands trembling as they hung limply at his sides. His face was flushed, beads of sweat trickling down his temple, but he said nothing. He could find no words to respond, not as the weight of what had been revealed pressed down on him.

The boy’s eyes, still shadowed beneath his hood, locked onto the man’s.

There was no smile on his face, yet there was something unsettling about the way he looked at the man, something that didn’t belong on a face so young. It was a look that was far too old, far too experienced, for the boy it was attached to.

“Leave this matter behind,” the boy said quietly, his voice carrying an eerie finality. “He made his choice. Now you must make yours.”

The man’s breath caught in his throat. He glanced around at the villagers, but once more found no help in their faces. Some nodded slowly, others looked away. It was clear to them now—whether they liked it or not, the truth had been spoken. The boy, this…wanderer…wasn’t lying, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. And the man, deep down, knew it too.

Perhaps that was why he couldn’t accept it.

For a long, agonizing moment, the man stood there, caught between denial and the heavy reality settling over him. Then, slowly, with a pained expression, he backed away.

“He was… my friend,” the man muttered again, but his voice was weak, trembling. He turned away, shoulders sagging as he disappeared into the crowd.

The boy watched him go, his eyes following the hunched figure as it faded from view. For a moment, there was silence.

Then, almost to himself, the boy spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet clear enough for those closest to hear.

“…A different choice this time.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering something unseen, his gaze distant. His expression remained calm, though a flicker of something passed through his eyes.

The villagers, still unnerved by the exchange, glanced at one another, puzzled by his words but too hesitant to ask.

The boy smiled once more, soft, faint and fleeting, as he turned away from the villagers. He said nothing more, leaving them to wonder what he meant as he continued down the path, walking back into the now silent marketplace as if the confrontation had never happened at all.

.

.

.

——

——

.

.

.

“She must be beautiful,” whispered a small voice.

“Is she kind?” asked another, their soft, lilting tone drifting through the air like a breeze.

“Warm, too?” A third chimed in, fluttering closer to where the boy sat.

Hyrule, seated in the shallow waters of the fairy fountain, barely stirred at their questions. His thin form leaned back against a moss-covered stone, his cloak discarded beside him, revealing how frail and slight he truly had become.

The waters gently lapped against him, cool and clear, while tiny glowing fairies circled above, their curiosity as constant as their light.

“She is,” he murmured, his voice low and calm, answering their questions with a softness that matched the quiet of the fountain.

In his hand, a cloth moved slowly over the blade of his sword, wiping away the dried blood that clung to the steel. The crimson stains mixed with the water, turning it a faint pink before dispersing into nothing.

“And her eyes?” one of the fairies asked, fluttering down to rest near his shoulder, their wings glittering in the soft light of the fountain. “Are they as kind as yours?”

Hyrule’s lips quirked ever so slightly, a faint smile ghosting over his features. “They are… far more kinder.”

The fairies giggled softly at his response, their voices like tinkling bells as they flitted around him, never straying too far from the boy.

But beneath the peaceful scene, there was an unspoken heaviness that lingered in the air—something that clung to him like the blood on his sword, even as he cleaned it away.

“She must be someone very amazing,” one of the fairies whispered, hovering in front of him, their eyes wide and curious. “For you to feel so happy at the thought of her.”

“She is,” he said again, quieter this time. His eyes remained focused on his blade, his movements slow and methodical, as if the task of cleaning the blood from it was all that mattered in the moment.

The fairies, sensing the weight of his thoughts, quieted for a time, simply fluttering around him as he worked. The fountain’s waters shimmered with their light, casting soft reflections on his face, but nothing could soften the sharpness in his eyes.

A sharpness that didn’t belong on someone so young.

Eventually, one of the fairies drifted closer, their tiny voice softer now, hesitant. “Do you ever… rest?”

Hyrule paused, his hand stilling as the last of the blood was wiped clean from his blade. He set the sword down beside him, resting it against the stone, the cloth now stained with the evidence of his earlier fight.

“I do,” he replied softly, leaning his head back to stare up at the sky above, visible through the break in the canopy. “When I can.”

The fairies fluttered around him again, their delicate wings catching the light as they moved. They didn’t press him further, sensing that, for now, the questions down that path had reached their end.

And as Hyrule sat in the waters of the fairy fountain, his eyes distant and his form thin and tired, the quiet companionship of the fairies was all that filled the stillness around him.

One of the fairies flitted closer, their glow bright as they hovered near his face. "Tell us more about her," they asked softly, their voice full of innocent curiosity. "What is she like?"

Hyrule’s eyes softened, the hand resting on his sword going still as he leaned his head back against the stone. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, reverent, almost worshipful.

“She’s… so incredible,” he began, his tone gentle, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the memory. “Kinder than anyone I’ve ever known. She doesn’t judge, no matter who she meets, or what they’ve been through. There’s this warmth about her—like she carries a light inside, something that draws people in without her even trying.”

The fairies hovered close, their wings slowing as they listened intently, captivated by the way his voice softened when he spoke of her.

“She has this way of smiling,” he continued, eyes drifting closed as he recalled the image of her in his mind. “It’s not just her lips that smile, but her eyes, too. It’s like... she can see through all the darkness and still find something good. She makes you believe in things—hope, love, a future.”

His voice wavered slightly, though his expression remained calm. “She’s very brave, too. So much stronger than she thinks. No matter how hard things get, she never gives up. She keeps going, keeps fighting, even…even when the world feels like it’s falling apart around she…she…”

Hyrule’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes still closed as he let himself remember her—the sound of her laughter, the way her presence alone could make the harshest days feel bearable.

For a moment, it felt like she was there, right beside him.

That the tragedies that had happened ceased to exist.

But when he finally opened his eyes, that smile faltered. The fairies were still there, their soft glow reflecting in the water, but she was not.

The sadness crept into his gaze, and his smile turned hollow as the weight of reality settled in. She wasn’t there. Not in this moment. Not in this place.

“She’s not here,” he murmured, more to himself than to the fairies. His voice was still soft, still gentle, but there was a deep ache hidden beneath those words.

“Oh to be young and in love…”

The Great Fairy glided toward Hyrule, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she observed him resting in the water. Her gaze lingered on his face, soft yet intense as he cleaned his blade, the blood from battle slowly fading away. Her voice, as gentle as a breeze, curled around him like a caress.

“It’s rare, little halfling,” she said, her smile warm, “to see someone so completely in love. Your heart sings for her in a way that most mortals can only dream of.”

Hyrule looked up, his expression calm and peaceful. He paused in his movements, letting the cloth hang loosely in his hand as he met her gaze. “She’s… everything,” he whispered, his tone reverent. “More than anyone could ever be. She’s kind, strong, beautiful. There’s nothing she lacks because even what she considers an flaw is perfect to me.”

The Great Fairy hummed, circling him slowly, her fairies fluttering around him with excitement, their tiny lights dancing in celebration of his devotion. “She sounds like the perfect mate,” the Great Fairy mused, her voice dipping into a playful tone. “Someone worthy of such fierce love and loyalty.”

Hyrule’s smile softened, “She is. And I’ll make sure she knows it every day.” His eyes brightening, I never want to give her a reason to hate me. When we reunite, she’ll be so loved, so cared for, that the thought of leaving won’t even cross her mind.”

The Great Fairy tilted her head, observing him with interest, but not an ounce of concern. Where humans would have been unnerved by his intensity, to the fae, such passion was only natural. The fairies swirled around him in delight, their wings buzzing as they echoed the Great Fairy’s sentiments. “A perfect mate,” they sang in unison, giggling in the air.

They swirled around him, their excitement clear. “Introduce her to us!” one of them chimed, their tiny voices buzzing around him. “We want to meet her!”

Another chimed in, “She must be so lovely! So kind!”

Hyrule’s expression softened, his gaze turning inward as he thought of (y/n). “She is... more than lovely. She’s warm, gentle. She’s strong, even when she doesn’t realize it. When she smiles... it’s like the sun after a storm.”

His voice grew quieter, reverent, as though speaking of her was akin to prayer. The fairies fluttered in close, their excitement building as he continued.

“She doesn’t know how special she is,” he added softly, closing his eyes as if savoring the image of her in his mind. “But I do. I’ll never let her feel unwanted or alone. I’ll always be there, making sure she’s safe. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her by my side.”

The Great Fairy leaned in closer, her tone teasing but gentle. “Such devotion… it’s admirable, little halfling. Perhaps you’ll truly bring her here one day, so we can meet this girl who has captured your heart so completely?”

Hyrule’s smile grew as he closed his eyes, as though he could see (y/n) standing before him in that very moment. “Of course I will,” he said softly, opening his eyes again, though the faint sadness lingered when she wasn’t truly there. “You’ll love her, I know you will. She deserves to meet you, and you deserve to meet someone so… perfect.”

The Great Fairy’s eyes sparkled with amusement, her voice coy. “And what of your sword brothers? From what you’ve spoke, their desires are the same as yours. They, too, wish to claim her heart, don’t they?”

Hyrule’s peaceful expression didn’t falter, “They do. And I understand that. I’m willing to share a place in her heart, as long as they’ve learned their lesson. We all want the same thing, after all—her happiness.”

The Great Fairy chuckled, a sound like chiming bells, full of mischief and curiosity. “But, little one, what would you do if they haven’t learned? If they were to stand in your way?”

Hyrule’s eyes gleamed, his smile gentle but his words weren’t, “If they haven’t learned… I’ll slaughter them. Every single one. And I’ll protect her on my own.” He said so easily, so casually, like talking about the weather.

The Great Fairy threw her head back and laughed, her voice exuberant and full of joy. Her fairies mirrored her glee, spinning and fluttering in the air in a celebratory dance, their wings glowing brighter as they reveled in the intensity of their great mother’s happiness. To them, Hyrule’s devotion was nothing but pure, powerful, and natural.

“Ah, such love!” the Great Fairy exclaimed, her eyes alight with delight. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen a love like yours, little halfling. A love that burns with such beautiful, sublime passion.”

The fairies circled around him, their voices giggling and singing as they celebrated his devotion, as though his words were a promise of something sacred. And to the fae, it was.

“Introduce her to us!” they begged, their voices filled with excitement.

Hyrule chuckled softly, his expression serene as he nodded. “I will, little sisters. It’s only natural to introduce someone as incredible as her to my family. One day. You’ll see just like I did…she’s perfect.”

The Great Fairy reached out, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek in a gesture of affection. “We look forward to it, little one. We’ll be waiting eagerly to celebrate your eventual union with such an amazing soul!”

And with that, the fairies continued their joyful flight around him, giggling and cheering louder at the future where they would meet her, while Hyrule sat by the fountain waters at peace, sword forgotten beside him, lost in thoughts of her, his smile soft, though touched by a quiet darkness.

——

——

Hyrule leaned against a tree by the edge of the forest, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

Rain poured down, soaking his clothes and matting his hair to his forehead, droplets of water streaming down his face. His sword hung loosely from his hand, the blade gleaming dully in the gray light, dripping with rain and something darker.

The river rushed nearby, its waters swollen from the storm, roaring in the quiet of the evening.

He glanced down at his soaked clothes, water pooling around his boots, but he paid little attention to the discomfort.

The rain masked everything—his exhaustion, the faint ache in his limbs, even the weight of his thoughts. But it couldn’t wash away the simmering feelings just beneath the surface.

The sound of the rushing river mixed with the steady downpour, the constant hum of the forest alive around him despite the storm.

He tilted his head back, feeling the rain on his face, his eyes half-lidded in thought.

Everything had felt strange since he had woken up in the past, as though he was constantly walking through a dream he could never quite escape.

“I miss them,” he murmured, his voice carrying only as far as the tree he leaned against. “My brothers…the only ones who I felt safe with…for so long... And yet…” His lips curved upward, a smile too soft for the words that followed. “Sometimes, I dream of stealing her away…to punish them… for their failure to keep her safe.”

He laughed lightly, as if the thought were as harmless as the falling rain, warm despite the darkness that laced his words.

“It’s strange,” he murmured into the storm, his voice barely louder than the patter of rain on leaves. “How everything’s felt… off.” His words were soft, but they carried an unsettling warmth, as if these thoughts were nothing out of the ordinary.

Hyrule tilted his head back, eyes closing briefly as he let the rain run over his face.

His eyes fluttered open, and there was a softness in his gaze, a calmness that made the words all the more disturbing. “But… I understand now. It’s over. What happened in that time is done, and I can’t change it. All I can do is make up for my failures and create newer memories...”

He pushed himself off the tree and took a few steps toward the riverbank, the rain still pouring down. “And when we’re all together again, it’ll be perfect. We’ll savor our reunion with her.”

There was a pause, as if he was savoring the thought, before he continued, almost as if speaking to the river itself. “But first, I need to clear this land of threats as best as i can. Gather enough wealth…Build a place that’s safe for her. I have to be ready. We all do.”

The rain fell freely from the darkened skies above, the evening air thick with moisture.

His voice, soft and wistful, carried through the trees, but it wasn’t clear who he was speaking to.

“Yet I can’t help but acknowledge how much it’s been quite the experience…walking a similar yet different path..”

Hyrule's voice echoed softly through the night, his tone distant, almost thoughtful.

“Ever since I woke up in the past, everything has felt... off. Like the world’s just a little tilted. Nothing feels right, but I suppose it’s what happens when you’re given another chance.”

He sighed softly, his words warm despite the unsettling nature of his thoughts.

“And still as much as i want to reunite with them, i still wish to hurt them too..”

He shifted his weight slightly, eyes distant as he spoke to the figure before him, “To wrap my hands around the handle go my blade and cut them down as they cry out in pain….To make them pay for failing to protect her, for letting her be taken from us. But, it’s not hate, not really.”

His voice carried a calm warmth that made the words unsettling. He spoke as if discussing a pleasant memory, not something so dark and twisted. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Wanting to hurt them but still loving them. I could never hate them forever. It simply wasn’t entirely their fault, after all.”

Hyrule let out a small sigh, almost wistful. “But I did truly hate them for a while. I hated them for not being strong enough, for not being fast enough... for not being better and keeping her safe.” He chuckled softly, as if the thought amused him. “But now, that time has passed and reversed, erased except the memories I hold… It’s not just their fault we failed. It’s mine as well. And I’ll make up for it.”

He hummed.

“But that’s natural, isn’t it? Wanting to punish them… To punish myself, for failing her.” He chuckled lightly, almost as if he were reminiscing about fond memories. “I hated them for a while. For a long while, actually. But it’s all over now. I know that. I understand that, and I have to atone for my own failures.”

He tilted his head slightly, staring off into the dark, rain-slicked forest as if imagining something far away. “When we find her again, everything will be different. We’ll savor every moment of our reunion, all of us together again. She’ll be safe with us. And it’ll be... perfect.”

Hyrule’s expression darkened, though the gentle smile on his face remained. “But before that, I have to finish things here. I need to clear out every threat in this place, amass enough wealth to give her a safe life, to build something beautiful amidst all this cursed and poisoned land. A place where she can live peacefully. A place where my sword brothers and I can keep her safe.”

He sighed, finally lowering his gaze to the figure at his feet. The rain had formed a pool around the man, blood mixing with the water, his body slumped against the roots of an old tree. His eyes, wide and filled with terror, locked onto Hyrule’s as he listened helplessly.

“I need to make sure that I’m ready for her. Ready for all of us to reunite…”

Hyrule crouched down, his eyes soft, almost regretful as he looked at the man. “Funny, isn’t it? You walked away from me in the market that day, made a different choice than last time. But it seems some things are inevitable… this little scene between us is happening sooner rather than later.”

He shook his head, amused. “Seems some things never change,” Hyrule said softly, almost regretfully. “You made a different choice again. Last time, you tried to burn me alive. Now, you pushed me toward rushing water. It’s a shame… I thought I might have more time before this.”

The man’s eyes flickered, desperate, but no words came. Hyrule’s smile was gentle as he crouched down beside him, the rain dripping from his hair. “I mean… to use you as another way to bond with my sword brothers…but I suppose we can’t always get what we want.”

He reached out, touching the man’s wet cheek in a gesture that seemed almost compassionate. “I can only hope we can bond over another tainted soul.” Hyrule sighed sadly, his voice soft with genuine regret.

“I really was hoping to do this again with the others. It was such a lovely bonding experience that time...”

The man tried to respond, but all that came out was a garbled, pathetic sound—his severed tongue preventing any real words. Hyrule gave him a pitying look, then slowly unsheathed his sword.

With one swift, clean motion, he cut off the man’s head, watching for several moments as his eyes fluttered, his face twitching until there was no movement left.

Hyrule waited for a long moment, staring into the lifeless eyes of the man, almost as if searching for something.

When there was nothing left to see, Hyrule stood up, sheathing his blade once more.

As Hyrule turned to leave, his gaze fell on a crown of flowers lying discarded in the mud, half-crushed by the struggle. The delicate petals were wilted, the once vibrant colors dulled by the rain and dirt.

He had been working on it when the man from the market snuck up on him.

He knelt beside it, picking up the ruined crown with gentle fingers, his eyes softening as a memory stirred.

He could almost see her, in that memory sitting in front of him, laughing as she showed him how to weave the flowers together, her hands guiding his clumsy attempts with infinite patience.

The warmth in her eyes, the sound of her voice—he had cherished every second of it. And now, this small, fragile thing, this crown, had been ruined.

It had been so long since he made one…

He had assumed she would always be there to re-teach him…

A deep sadness filled him, his heart aching as he held the crushed flowers. "She spent so much time teaching me," he whispered softly, his voice barely audible over the rain. "And now it’s ruined… he ruined it." His fingers tightened slightly around the crown, but not enough to damage it further.

As Hyrule pocketed the ruined flower crown, his steps slowed, his thoughts swirling with the same intensity as the fairies around him.

The rain drummed a steady rhythm on the leaves overhead, but his mind was elsewhere—drifting back to the quiet afternoons with her, back when things felt simpler. He could almost feel her hands guiding his as he fumbled with the stems, hear the soft way she teased him when he struggled to braid them just right.

His heart clenched at the thought. "I’ll make her another," he thought, trying to push away the sadness creeping in. But the moment was gone, ruined by the man lying lifeless in the mud. "If only he hadn’t tried to stop me," Hyrule mused. "I could’ve remembered everything clearly... made it perfect for her."

His gaze flicked back to the body, the severed tongue, the empty, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Hyrule sighed, the heaviness in his chest growing. "I wanted to remember every detail, for her." His fingers brushed against the flower crown in his pocket, fragile and ruined, much like the memory it had been tied to. "I’ll make up for it. For everything."

The fairies' laughter danced around him, pulling him from his thoughts, and he straightened. "For her… I'll make it all perfect," he promised silently, his eyes narrowing as he left the body behind.

The fairies flitted around him, their soft glow casting a faint light over his rain-soaked form. They giggled and chimed, but there was no malice in their joy.

He cast one last glance at the man’s lifeless body, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned and began to walk away, leaving the corpse where it laid as he walked back into the storm.

The fairies’ chimes danced in the air as they continued to follow and swirl around him in delight, their soft laughter filling the air as the rain fell heavier, blending with the sound of the wind, rushing water and rustling leaves.

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright Part Four

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: OOOOH the development of this story makes me so excited for the rest!!! Loki is def in this part babies;)

Warnings: angst, language

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

Request Guidelines

MASTERLIST

PART FOUR

The evening sun bore down onto the horizon, coloring the sky a myriad of blue and yellow and pink. Like vagabond brushstrokes upon the canvas of the sky. A few, wandering birds called from a distance, lazily gliding in the wind. 

The door behind you opened and closed. You turned away from the darkening horizon and saw your brother offering two cups of steaming chamomile tea. 

“Steve says they might have a point of entry for you,” he said, but his tone wasn’t into it, as if the week’s dealings bore on his shoulders alone. 

When Tony had announced your role as the bait, Bruce had thrown himself at your side. No one would hurt his baby sister, he’d said.

“I don’t think he’s going to fall for it,” you said halfhearted. 

Bruce sighed, handing you the cup. You wrapped your hands around the burning warmth. “I think you still don’t fully understand the soulmate bond,” your brother said.

“Huh?”

He sipped on his tea, clearing his throat. “At least for men, it’s not really about how you feel towards that person, albeit that yes, there’s passion.” He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly coughing. “It’s more the protection you want to have on this person. Their wellbeing is of utmost importance. It’s hard, sometimes, to differentiate between protection and possession.”

A lump formed in your throat. Possession?

“And knowing Loki,” Bruce went on. “Knowing his nature of envy and greed, he’s for sure feeling the effects of the bond as just that - possession. He feels like you belong to him.”

Astonished, you turned away from your brother, both to hide your flaming cheeks and the awkwardness forming between you. 

“Has he made anymore...” you hesitated, “demands?”

Bruce shook his head. “No.” Then he looked at the horizon. “But he’s looking for you. He went to your apartment. Your daytime job. Even the school you used to go to part-time in the summer.”

That seemed like so far behind. Like someone else. Not you. That life you’d had barely more than two weeks ago, when you’d accepted to help Bruce. That girl, living alone in a somewhat nice apartment, going to work on public transport, and studying in the summer - that girl seemed like a stranger now. The girl who used to see in black and white.

“So what happens when he finds me?” you asked tentatively. 

“We swoop in,” Bruce answered. “We get him. We hand him over to Thor, and he brings him back to Asgard and makes sure he never comes back.”

That word. Never. It rung like a Cong inside your brain. The prospect of never seeing Loki ever again, never talking to him, stroke a cord in you that you wished you could ignore. 

During this whole week of scheming, no one had asked you how you felt about all this. He was your soulmate after all. And the idea that, after all this time, you’d finally found him and he was bound for eternal life in prison made you want to scream.

Bruce put his hand on your upper back, as if sensing your discomfort. “Let’s go to bed,” he said soothingly. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

Yes, tomorrow was a big day.

***

You strolled through downtown New York, trying your hardest not to look over your shoulder. It had been a week since you’d been in a huge crowd, and returning to the crammed streets of the city made your belly buzz.

Nat sounded in your ear. “Make it look authentic,” she said. 

Right. Because luring a thousand-year-old demi-God into a quiet corner to trap him was the easiest thing in the world. Nat had tried to teach you a few things when they’d all cooped up at Tony’s secret forest getaway, but now, living it, you couldn’t remember how to act benign. 

You tried to pretend to be listening to music, the airpods in your ears actually being comms with the Quinjet hidden overhead. You stopped at Starbucks. You pretended to look through the windows of clothing stores. You stepped into a bookstore and bought a novel. 

It had been an hour that you were “baiting” and nothing. 

Not even a glimpse.

You sighed in defeat, pushing your hair behind your ears. The day’s heat was boring down on you, and you knew your nose was burnt. Your tank top was soaked, your jeans sticking to your legs. Totally uncomfortable would be an understatement.

You saw a glimpse of something gold in the Macy’s window and looked over your shoulder. 

“Y/N,” Bruce sounded in your ear. “Come in.”

You remained silent. The crowd before you changed, people walking past you in a hurry. You turned back to the window, muttering to your brother, “I’m fine.” 

“Get away from Macy’s, you have enough clothes,” your brother muttered back.

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s funny?”

You jumped, yelping, staring up into Loki’s green gaze. Heart hammering, blood roaring in your ears, you tried to focus on calming yourself. Your hands were sweaty as you reached up to take out one airpod.

He smirked. Under the sun, he was glorious in an all-black ensemble, his raven locks freshly cut beneath his chin, pushed back behind his ears. 

“Fancy a stroll?”

You gulped, looking at the elbow he offered. Something shimmered there, around the edges of his forearm. As if he glowed.

He’s not really here. 

You remembered from your briefing on Loki, that Thor had said the jester loved his illusion tricks.

“I presume I have to pretend to hold your arm?” you answered, feeling the knot of anxiety dissolve in your belly at the sight of his grin.

“Clever.” He retreated his arm, looked around at the crowd swiftly moving past him. “May we talk somewhere private?” he asked. 

Nat had told you he’d say that, and your job was to not look too eager. He’d smell a trap before you’d even agree.

You forced yourself to frown. “You want to get me alone?”

He huffed, his lips pulling into a dashing smirk. God, he really was beautiful. The sun, so warm and overbearing to you, seemed to grace his entire being as if he’d been crafted by the hands of the gods themselves. 

“If I wanted to get you alone,” he said, dropping his voice to a lower octave, stepping closer to you, “I would have gotten you out of Tony’s little wayward cabin much sooner.”

He stood close, not close enough to smell him, but close enough that you had to tilt your head to keep eye contact. 

There was a quiet turmoil building inside you at his words, someone whispering “Shit” in your airpod. A slight tremor began at your core, echoing out into your limbs. He’d known where you were. He knew what you were doing.

At the sight of your face - you, who could barely hide your emotions - he grinned wildly. 

“I am the God of Mischief, or did you forget?” He tilted his head, squinted his eyes. 

Your mouth was dry when you answered. “That’s why you’re casting yourself as an illusion?”

“Clever,” he said, again. Then he licked his lips, erasing the comical expression on his features and replacing it with something akin to stone. “You’re mad if you think you can fool me.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He would have laid hands on you if he wasn’t incorporeal. His eyes darkened, chin dipping so that he stared at you along the length of his nose. 

“You’re a chipper little thing,” he said, voice laced with venom. The tone, his expression, the way his illusion made the edges of him tremble instead of glow, made your heart speed with fear. “I’m sure the Avengers trained you well. I’m sure your brother thinks he can save you.”

Bruce whispered in your ear, “Son of a bitch.”

Loki’s unmoving expression slipped enough for him to smirk maniacally. “In fact,” he said, “tell him right now that I’ll win. I’ll win this battle of wits. This fucking planet. And I’ll win his sister.”

And then he vanished, leaving you to hear nothing but your drumming heartbeat, like a sea of swarming insects. The only thing that lingered behind was the smell of pinewood.

I PROMISE PART FIVE WILL BE LONGER!!!!!!!!!!

Tags:  @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki your tag doesn’t work bb

[for-ests]

Falling For You- Tom Holland x Reader (Part 1)

Word count: 2, 463

Summary: Two high school friends reconnect after years spent apart. And once they are alone, they can't deny the impassioned feelings they've always had for one another.

Warnings: none :’)

✭♡✭♡✭♡✭

The bell clanged against the door as you made your way into a dimly lit street-side pub. 

The frigid London air lofted into the once cozy atmosphere, sweeping your hair violently over your shoulders even though you attempted to keep it at bay. You sighed deeply, making sure the door closed behind you. Frustrated, cold, and grumpy—was your mood. You were a usually timid and shy girl, but right then it took all of your willpower to not slam the door and vigorously demand the bartender to pour you four vodka shots. Nothing was going your way. Your usual Friday night for as far as you were concerned. 

You slipped out of your coat and hung it up on the rack, knowing you would need to down a couple of shots if you were going to survive the night. "Aye sweetheart." The bartender glanced your way, gesturing for you to sit down and get comfortable. "Evening." You acknowledged. "I'd like two shots of gin please, and rum with coke.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded, even a stranger could sense your foul mood. Or maybe that was because it came with a bartender’s job description, knowing when and when not to bother someone.  "Everything alright miss?" 

"I'm okay." You rubbed her eyes in discomfort. "Just some college drama that I'd like to stay out of." 

The bartender was most likely wondering why you chose to stop into his bar. The college bars were a couple blocks north, a surpassingly far walk from this facility. "You got a ride home?" He asked, sliding you two shots filled to the rim. You stared down at them and grinned sheepishly. This would definitely help you forget, sooner rather than later. "Yeah." You sighed, watching him mix the rest of your order. "I'll take an Uber." "Sounds fine with me." He set the glass in front of you. "It's getting pretty late so I'm going to clean up a bit, I'll leave you be. If you need anything just holler." "Thanks." You smiled, bringing the liquor to your lips and tilting your head back.

Visiting local and less trafficked bars like this one was a habit you found yourself regularly in. It was a great way to get wasted while not having to interact with your peers. It was also a great way of avoiding any temptations that came with following and getting drunk with a group of college boys. 

This place was quiet. You could nurse your drinks in peace and leave without feeling guilty of ignoring people. The vibe was always low key, and the older Victorian architecture was something that pleased your eyes. Smooth wooden bars and chairs with cushioned stools, you might have to become a regular customer. 

Your attention turned to the football match replaying from earlier in the evening. But your mind could not focus, it was racing with all the responsibilities you were temporarily avoiding. You groaned and took the second shot of gin, this one hitting you a lot harder than the first. You quickly held the mixed drink to your lips in attempts to chase the shot down easier. The coke settled your stomach. 

You held the glass by your fingertips, and swirled the ice around for amusement. You felt like you were in a trance, sitting in a pub all alone. You could not help but feel that something important in your life was missing. It was midnight, and the bar was pretty much empty except for a group of rowdy men in a back booth. The stereotypical British night was unfolding around you. The same old and boring routine. 

An evening like this was never going to be fun if you didn’t drown yourself in booze. The thought caused sadness and self pity to seep into your mind. You honestly thought things would be different. At least that was you hoped when you were in grade school. But now, you were 21 and still hadn't finished nursing school. You had one year left and it was killing you. You had the most boring office job in the world to help you get by and pay off the debt. It was beyond stressful. All you wanted to do was think of something comforting. And attempt you did, but nothing came. You kept drinking into the night, ordering a few more shots to keep you busy. The alcohol tasted less and less appealing the more you drank. You were about to raise your hand for another, but you were cut off by the door bursting open. The cold air came in a rush, an equivalent to the feeling of someone striking you across the face. A group of attractive young men swarmed inside, all of them laughing and talking. The bar soon filled with an exciting buzz that wasn't there before. Great. You thought, knowing it was time you took your leave. You reached for your purse that was nestled in the seat beside you, knowing you had been there for over an hour. But as soon as you lifted your head, you felt every negative emotion melt away. You almost gasped, eyes widening as you spotted the last person you ever thought you would see. Tommy? What was he doing back in London? "This is insane." You mumbled, turning back to the counter and confiding in the alcohol. You must be seeing things. There was no way he would be back here. 

Normally, you would have stared straight ahead and pretended to not have noticed his presence. But your inebriated state gave you a boost of whirly confidence. Gaining the courage, you peered over again and winced. It was him, and he looked wonderful. His curly brown hair had finally grown out to the length you had always urged him to make it. It suited him well, a little too well. You found yourself gawking. You had said goodbye to a boy, but now you were staring at a man. All the memories the two of you shared clouded your mind before you could stop them. You hadn't realized how much you missed him. When Tom left, you suppressed those exhilarating memories. That was the only way you could move on. Though there were dozens of people surrounding him, your eyes focused on him alone. He looked so handsome that it took your breath away. Your eyes met shortly after, and you watched his expression light up when he realized it was you. Your heart began to beat faster as Tom whispered something in Harrison's ear. Harrison smiled and waved at you. He looked great as well. Tom excused himself and walked to your side, a little too quickly to remain unsuspicious. "Y/N..." He breathed in disbelief, a soft smile appearing on his lips. "You look amazing, darling." He complimented, causing you to blush a deep shade of red. His voice had gotten much deeper since the last time you chatted. "I can say the same about you." You chuckled, setting aside your last shot glass to face him completely. "It's been years." He continued, staring at you as if you were fragile. You most definitely looked the part. Tom may of changed, but his warm and kind brown eyes stayed the same. You had stared into them so many times before, but tonight was different. They were filled with an unspoken attraction that you tried so hard to deny when you were younger. The nostalgia was hitting you right where it hurt you the most. Tom’s gaze was pulling relentlessly at your heartstrings, reminding you that you had never truly moved on from him. But then you remembered how abruptly he left, how he hardly mustered a meaningful goodbye. Those memories still stung, even if you claimed they didn't. That's why this hello was so bittersweet. You lowered your gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah, I thought I'd never see you again." "Why do you say that?" Tom made himself comfortable on the stool beside you, moving your purse onto the counter. "You have my number darling." He said nonchalantly, raising his hand and asking for a beer. "And you have mine." You scoffed, finishing off your glass and asking for another one. Tom was quiet as he watched you take the shot. You took a sip of water to wash the liquor down. You tried to not show how badly it was burning your throat. "I couldn't just text you, Tom. You went to America.... we drifted apart." Tom grew silent for a long moment, and eventually he nodded with affirmation. "You're right." He admitted, realizing how careless he must have sounded. You shrugged, keeping your gaze on the television. You really didn't know what to say, or how to say it. Would he even want to know how you felt back when you were teenagers? Would it even matter? "How was America?" You asked, attempting to keep the conversation on something besides the pain you felt when he left. He never noticed and you planned to keep it that way. "It was amazing, but it's nothing like home." He reached his hand out as the bartender passed him a beer. You were far past tipsy, and his words sounded like music to your ears. You wanted to keep him talking, to make you feel like you were not alone. “I missed everyone here too much to stay.” You smiled at his conviction. It was nice to see that the fame hadn’t reached his head. “So the movie went well?" You tilted your head, finding yourself swooning all over again. You just couldn't help it. Tom's eyes sparkled at the mention of it. "Perfect, I still can't believe it happened. We just finished filming so I got to come home. Only for a few weeks though." "That's awesome." You grinned, catching his gaze before flickering your eyes away in embarrassment. Your cheeks started to flush from the liquor. Maybe that's why you felt like you were floating. There was no way you could still have feelings for him after all these years. "You're a star now, what you always wanted." You added, the comment coming out more hostile than you intended. Alcohol was notorious for its uncensorship. Tom raised his eyebrows. "What have you been up to?" He asked curiously. "Nothing." You felt tears stinging your eyes. Why were you crying? Were you jealous that he was living out his dream, while you still hadn't reached your potential? "I'm still in school. I have one more year before I'm registered." "That's great," Tom assured. "Not even close to nothing." "I'm sorry." You apologized, sniffing quietly. "You caught me at a bad time." Tom leaned in closer, and you could smell the alcohol in his breath. He genuinely seemed concerned by the expression you were making.  "Are you really okay?" "I'm drunk," You reminded him. "and stressed...Seeing you again made me want to cry. You should probably leave before I say something weird." His jaw clenched. "Do you not want me to be here?" "I'm overjoyed that you're here, Tommy." You whispered. "I didn't mean it like that." "I know, I know." He sighed, licking his lips nervously. Though he seemed to relax when you called him by his childhood nickname.  "I've just been hoping to see you since I came back. I missed you." "I missed you too." You smiled, a tear dripping down your cheek. How pathetic. Tom's eyes widened. "Please don't cry...what did I say?" "N-nothing." You chuckled, shooing his hand away as he tried to dry your cheek with his sweater sleeve. "It’s the alcohol. I wasn’t expecting to see you." He laughed. "I couldn't tell, you're beautiful either way." You rolled your eyes. "Still a Casanova aren't we?" "Only for you." 

Those words caused your stomach to flip in a way you had not experienced in far too long. Silence then consumed you, afraid to speak on anything more. 

Tom’s phone buzzed next to him, you assumed his friends, who were still eyeing him suspiciously from the other side of the bar. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two £20 bills. "It was nice to see you again Y/N. But the mates are calling. Do you need me to call you a taxi?" He asked, seemingly reluctant to go. Tom’s eyes twinkled with concern. You knew if he had the option to drive you home himself, he would. You glanced over to the door and noticed his mate’s were all gathering their things and grabbing their drinks. "I’m alright." You mumbled. "I want to catch you at a better time, yeah?" You nodded, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I would love that." "I will call you tomorrow." He handed you the money. "For mine and yours." "Tom, my drink wasn't that much!" You looked confused as he curled your fingers around the bills. Yet his gentle touch soothed your precarious thoughts. "You've had three drinks since I've been here darling." He chuckled. "Keep it okay? For all the birthdays I missed." The thought was sorrowful, but you accepted the gift. "Thanks." Tom scratched the back of his neck, seeming nervous for what he was about to admit. He leaned down to whisper quietly in your ear. "The thing I regret most is leaving you behind, Y/N. I hope I can make it up to you." You were speechless as you gazed up at him. Did you hear that correctly? "Tom—" His hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment, but before you could process what was happening, you felt his lips against your forehead. The sweetest, most charming gesture you could have ever hoped for.   "I'll see you soon." Tom parted, letting his hand fall away from your flustered stature. You felt the promise in his stare. You would see him again, and fairly soon. "Bye." You managed to whisper, watching him slip back into his coat and laugh with his friends. Tom glanced over at you one last time, his lips curving into a heartwarming smile. Yet there was still a sadness behind it, an unspoken regret. You started to believe that everything he said was true. He really did miss you. You slipped the bills onto the counter and left in a hurry. The group was already gone but you didn't mind. You needed to be alone after what just happened. You may be drunk but you could still think straight. Tom really said those things. He was really there. Tears started to pour down your cheeks as you stood outside on the curb, trying your best to make sense of it all. Were you possibly getting a second chance to be with Tom?

[scribbles97]

Left Behind -- Chapter 25

In which the boys come to a realisation.

PART 1 / PART 2

Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24

He wasn’t sure any of them had anticipated things to be as bad as they were. 

 A broken leg, internal bleeding, and burns were all things they could deal with.

 Then the doctors had brought in a mention of brain damage. Swelling that had yet to go down despite the hours under anaesthetic whilst they had repaired her leg and stopped her spleen from bleeding. 

 Grandma had explained what it meant, warning them of the worst case scenarios before they could have a chance to be too hopeful that things would be fine just given a little bit of time. It was something Scott had seen before, not every rescue went perfectly, and not everyone got out unscathed. 

 He knew Mom wasn’t invincible, he’d seen her break bones and cut herself before. He’d been the one to strap her up on Thunderbird Two before they flew home and she was forced off of duty for a few days or weeks. 

 It had never been this bad before though.

 “Scott?” Grandma murmured, touching his shoulder, “You okay kid?”

He looked up, drawn back to the relative’s room where they had all been filled in on Mom’s condition. Suddenly empty, it felt strange not to have the crowd of people around him.

 It was an automatic response to nod, Grandma didn’t need worrying over everything else on top of what had happened to Mom. 

 “I think that perhaps that isn’t the truth, young man.”

 Snorting, he had to smile, of course Grandma knew better. She always did. 

 “It’s complicated,” He tried, with a sigh, “And I don’t--”

 “If it’s about your father, I already know.”

 Stunned, he looked across to her with wide eyes, “But--”

 Her smirk and knowing eyes killed the question on his lips. 

 “I’ve known your mother since she was a teenager, and whilst I don’t like to pry, I do know when something’s bothering her.”

 He had to snort, shaking his head as he sunk back in the seat, “So you know that she was… that this was all to try and find Dad?”

 She nodded, patting his knee with a sigh, “I do. But I think we need to tell the others as well.”

 That was what he had been afraid of, the one thing he had been trying to work out for hours and hours. 

 Every scenario that went through his head ended with his family angry and him to blame. 

 He should have gone with her.

 “Scott, this wasn’t your fault kid.”

 Looking to her, he shook his head, “I should have gone with her Grandma. If I had gone with her I could have got rid of the bomb and we could have launched and we would be on the way to finding Dad right now rather than figuring out how to tell the others…”

 Trailing off he screwed his eyes shut, the thoughts had come tumbling before he had stopped to moderate them. He wasn’t meant to be worrying Grandma, he was meant to be supporting and comforting, offering his shoulder to lean on. 

 “And how did you plan on moving that bomb?” She prompted, arms folded and eyebrows raised, “Or the rest of the bombs within the ship?”

 “I--” He didn’t have an answer.

 “Exactly. What happened happened and you couldn’t have changed that, Scott.”

 He wished he could have though. 

 If only he had been there, there might have been something that he could have done.

 Grandma nudged him with her elbow, hard and pointy right in between his ribs, “No thinking about what ifs, do you hear me? It’s done Scott. We’ve got to focus on your mother right now.”

 Looking across to her, he pursed his lips, wishing with all he had that it was so simple. If only he could simply focus on Mom and make sure she got better. Mom had to get better, there wasn’t an alternative option. 

 Not when there was the possibility of Dad. 

 “What if he’s out there Grandma?”

 Both looked up as the cough from the door to their left, four brothers huddled wordlessly in the frame. 

 From their faces, Scott could guess they had heard his question. 

 “Who?” Gordon frowned, “Who might be out there?”

 His mouth opened but words didn’t come, a lump in his throat blocking the admission that just maybe they knew where Dad was. 

 “Boys, come and sit down,” Grandma said for him, “I think we need to fill you all in.”

 Virgil’s frown was deep and confused, “In on what?”

 “Yeah, what?” Alan echoed, “What happened to Mom? Why is nobody telling us anything?”

 “Gaat had built another Zero-X,” Scott found himself stating, watching the floor as he spoke unable to meet any of their eyes, “He lured her in with it.”

 “How?” Gordon asked, “Why would Mom go after anything to do with Gaat? The bas--”

 “Gordon!” Grandma snapped, cutting him off, making even Scott jump and snap his attention to her.

 Swallowing he glanced over to his brothers, catching the vibrant blue-green of John’s eye as his younger brother watched him. It was that look which made him falter. Right back in the beginning it had been John who had sided with him, John who had been just as determined and ready to do anything to find Dad. They had almost snuck onto Thunderbird Five, they had almost been right that there was a need to keep searching, they had just been looking the wrong way. 

 Nobody had ever considered looking outside of earth. 

 “Gaat had a new Zero-X.” John murmured as he held Scott’s eye, “Did Mom go to stop him launching then? To stop the same disaster that killed Dad?”

 Scott had to look away, wincing at all the questions that he knew the exact answers to but wishing he didn’t. 

 “No.” He swallowed, shaking his head, “No, she wanted it to launch. She was hoping that she could be on board when it launched.”

 “That makes no sense!” Alan immediately rebutted, “Why the hell would Mom trust Gaat to launch his ship? Why would she do that to us!?”

 Looking to his youngest brother, Scott shook his head again. They needed to understand, he had to make them understand. Mom wasn’t being selfish, she didn’t want to hurt any of them. It was Mom, of could she never would. 

 All she wanted was to make them all happy. To protect them all from harm and give them all they could ever possibly want. 

 If there was a chance to bring Dad home, of course she had to take it. 

 “We were looking the wrong way.” John whispered, voice barely audible over the questions Gordon and Alan continued to spout. Scott looked up again, watching as his eyes widened and his hand reached out to the chair closest to him. 

 “We never considered up,” John murmured, eyes holding Scott’s, “We assumed the debris went down, that-- we never thought it was successful.”

 “Guys shush.” Virgil snapped at the youngest two. Scott could feel the look he was giving him, a deep frown and questioning eyes. 

 “What does John mean, Scott? We never thought what was successful?”

 Grandma cleared her throat, “The launch of the original Zero-X.”

 Alan scoffed, “Well it wasn’t successful. It killed Dad.”

 Scott felt something tighten around his heart as he looked to the hard blue of his youngest brother’s eyes. The set of his shoulders and the tremble of his lower lip spoke volumes. It was what Alan knew as truth, as fact and gospel. It was what his baby brother had been told four years ago and what he had been encouraged to accept. 

 At such a fragile age, of course it had become part of who the youngest was. Nobody lost a family member without it affecting them. For Alan it meant a hatred of a man he had never met and a determination to fly Thunderbird Three as soon as he was able. 

 “We always assumed that,” Virgil murmured, his baritone soft as he glanced between Scott and John, “We assumed that there was no debris and no body because of the heat of the explosion.”

 Scott coughed, clearing the lump in his throat as he straightened and looked up to Virgil, not sure when the younger had gotten so much taller even if Scott was the one sat down. 

 “There’s footage from a new angle,” He started, “and it shows the main body of the Zero-X leaving the explosion… and it shows it taking off into space.”

 “What are you saying Scott?” Virgil murmured, eyes closing as he pursed his lips. 

 Scott knew the pain, the need to both hear an answer and not at the same time. 

 Even Gordon was quiet, frozen on the spot as he watched him. The swimmer’s hand reached out to hold on to Alan’s shoulder and Scott hoped that it would be enough to hold the youngest back with whatever came next. 

 “The original Zero-X launched and we think, there is a possibility that Dad could still be on it, somewhere out there.”

 He wasn’t sure which reaction he expected, demands for action, accusations of lies and deceit from Gaat, anger that nobody had been told sooner. Silence though, probably hadn’t been high on his list of expectations. 

 John eventually sighed heavily and shook his head, “And Gaat knew as well. So he used a new Zero-X to lure Mom in, to make her think she had a chance to go and find him.”

 Scott had to nod, “Pretty much.”

 “The bas--”

 “Gordon!” Grandma snapped again, eyes hardening in his direction. 

 “So what do we do?” Alan asked, looking between his oldest brothers, “We need a new Zero-X! We’ve gotta get out there!”

 John shook his head, watching Scott as his shoulders fell, “We can’t, can we?”

“What?” Gordon straightened, “What do you mean we can’t?”

 Scott looked to them, wishing he had something better to say, “We have no ship, no designs for the engine that powered the Zero-X,”

 “And no time.” John finished for him, “If the launch was successful, that would have sent Dad out to deep space. That gives us a window of a matter of days.”

 “No!” Alan snapped, “No we have to do something now! If Dad’s out there he needs us!”

 Grandma stood smoothly, stepping across the space between her and her youngest grandson in one step before resting her hands on his shoulders.

 “If your father is out there, if he has already survived this long, I don’t doubt he will find a way to keep doing so until we can get out there to find him.” 

 Scott swallowed the bile that was burning his throat, wishing beyond anything that life was as straightforward as Alan believed it was. He wasn’t sure where to start with a new T-Drive though, and he wasn’t sure Mom would want him to try whilst she was out of action. 

 She had to be their priority. 

 In time, the rest of it would fall into place. 

[bellemorte180]

Just Good Business Chapter Five

Caroline Salvatore, married into one of New York's most brutal crime families.

Niklaus Mikaelson, a notorious mob boss who is hell bent on taking down the Slavatores.

It's an affair for the ages.

Warning: There is graphic descriptions of violence below.

Chapter Five

Caroline woke lazily. It had been a long time since she had such a good night’s sleep. She stretched and felt the silk sheets graze over her naked body. She sat up slowly and looked around the room. She was alone in the bed and pouted slightly. She never had the chance to sleep in the same bed as Klaus and was looking forward to waking up next to him.

Apparently, he had other ideas.

She turned and searched for her purse; noticing that it was still on the floor from the night before. Caroline laid down on her stomach, not wanting to leave the bed, and reached for it. She struggled for a moment and eventually pulled it to her. Once she had ahold of it, she dug through it and pulled her phone from it. It was dead. She pulled the charger out of her purse and plugged it into the wall; attaching it to her phone and letting it sit to charge

She pulled herself from the bed and picked up Klaus’s Henley he wore the night before, slipping it over her head. She walked into Klaus’s bathroom. It was the same bathroom with the big round tub she sat in with Klaus nearly four months ago, plotting Stefan’s demise. Everything changed that night. No longer were they in the middle of some trifling affair; Stefan started a war he could not win the moment he left bruises on her.

Caroline shook herself from those thoughts and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess; her curls were twisted and knotted. She ran her fingers through her hair in hopes of claiming the mess. Once done, she searched Klaus’s medicine cabinet and pulled out his toothpaste. She picked up his brush and cleaned her teeth. Once done, she spit into the skin and wiped off her face. She was going to have to ask him about picking up some everyday supplies for her.

She leaned against the counter; looking at herself and she noticed that for the first time in a very long time, she woke smiling. The woman in front of her was happy. Yes, she cheated on her husband with someone who was just as despicable as him; but this man never laid a hand on her. Never forced himself inside her or made her wonder if jumping of a skyscraper would be better than being alive.

And Klaus was the father of her child.

The thought of her pregnancy made Caroline smile. She placed her hand on her stomach, biting her lips. Before a few days ago, she never even considered the fact that she was pregnant. Her period was not consistent and with the stress she was under, she assumed that was why she had not gotten it. She suffered no real typical pregnancy symptoms, no nausea or vomiting to make her mind wonder to that possibility. If it was not for the doctor’s confirmation and seeing it firsthand, she would not have believed it.

Pulling herself from her musings, Caroline headed back into the bedroom and walked back to her phone. It had enough of a charge for her to scroll through it. She winced at the amount of text messages from Stefan demanding to know where she was. He called her multiple times and it appeared that Enzo is MIA as well. He would have to be.

Its past 11 Caroline, where are you? Caroline. Home. Now. You better get the fuck home now. Why is your phone off? Where are you? Why the fuck can’t I track you? Did you run off with your bodyguard? How fucking cliché.

Most of the messages where the same. Threats of bodily injury and harassment. She would have to show Klaus these and groaned at the thought. Stefan also left a couple of voicemails, vocalizing his anger. Once these would have scared the shit out of her, but she no longer felt any fear from him. Perhaps it was foolish, but it was how she felt. She was not going to let her husband stand in the way of her happiness. If that meant she was going to have to lay low for a while, Caroline was willing to do that. On impulse, Caroline opened the string of text messages and replied.

I’m leaving you Stefan. I’m not coming home.

She hit send and placed the phone on the bedside table, allowing it to charge. Caroline stood up from the bed and walked out; hearing her ringtone go off. She just kept walking, listing to the tone fade away in the bedroom. She knew that he would continue to call but there was no point in picking up. It wouldn’t end well.

She found Klaus in his home office, looking at his screen intently. She admired him for a moment as he worked; she liked the way his eye crinkled just slightly when he appeared annoyed or how he squinted at the screen to see something better; or how his lips curled up when something distasteful appeared. Upon that look, Caroline’s sense of hearing registered what the noise from his computer was. It was moaning, the slapping of skin and cries of pleasure.

“Is this going to be our life together? Me waking up to an empty bed only to find you watching porn?” Caroline teased and Klaus’s eyes turned to her. His eyes took in the sight of her, messy hair, wearing his Henley and bare legs. He gazed at her completely unashamed and Caroline couldn’t help but bask in his desire.

“Yes.” Klaus replied in a bland tone as though he was talking about the weather. “You’ve found out my dirty little secret. I’m a porn addict.”

Caroline snorted at that. Porn would be the least of Caroline’s worries given that he commits murder on a regular basis. Klaus held out his hand and she made her way around his desk; Klaus pulling her onto his lap. Caroline took a good look at what was on the screen and crinkled her nose.

“Ugh.” It was frame after frame of various positions and sex acts of Stefan and Elena. She knew that there were cameras littered around the mansion, but she never actually considered the fact that she would have to see them having sex on screen. She saw it once in person and that was more than enough for her.

“Trust me Sweetheart, there is nothing arousing about this in the slightest.” He leaned down and kissed her head. He held her tightly as though to remind himself that she had finally come home to him. “I would have much rather have stayed in bed with you, waking you up slowly. I thought about it.”

“What stopped you?”

“You looked peaceful.” His tone was soft, and he could not help but kiss her forehead again. “You finally appeared ready to rest after everything you had been through; I didn’t want to disturb that.” Caroline gave him a warm smile and leaned up to kiss his lips. “Besides, you are the woman carrying my child and you must get your relaxation.”

“Oh no. You’re not going to be an overbearing father-to-be are you? I’m pregnant not an invalid.” Caroline asked in mock outrage. Klaus just shrugged; giving her a dimpled smile. He was going to be. Caroline could tell. “So, you dragged yourself out of bed to watch my husband have sex with his sister-in-law?”

“I’m working.” Caroline cocked her eyebrow and he rolled his eyes at her. “This ends now. I’m done waiting for Elijah and the feds to bring a case against Stefan. It’s been dragged out for months because Alaric Saltzman is to damn good at his job. I’m going back to the very beginning. To our first plan.”

“Turn brother against brother.” She whispered. She looked towards the screen and realized what he was doing. “You’re compiling them. All the videos of Stefan and Elena, and you’re going to send them too Damon.”

“Yes.”

“When are you sending it?” Caroline asked. For so long, her focus had been getting out of that house. Gaining the courage to walk-away and take back control of her life. Sitting in Klaus’s lap, she realized that she could have left sooner; that she didn’t need to get in the middle of this war by becoming involved with Klaus. It would have been hell and Stefan most likely would have tried to track her down, but she could have done it. She could have run far and wide. It just was not that simple. Yes. She hated Stefan. Yes. She was terrified of him. Yes. He did terrible things to her; but for a long time, she thought she deserved nothing better.

She thought that there was nothing else out there for her.

Until Klaus helped her pick up those pieces. He showed her what it meant to be loved. How she wasn’t just some trophy to be won and that she could be a strong woman, standing on her own two feet. Yes, she jumped from one mob boss to another, but if she told Klaus she wanted to walk across the Grand Canyon on a tight rope, he would cheer her on the entire time. It just took the life now growing inside her to wake her up to that fact. She would kill anyone who tried to hurt this child.

“Not sure, yet. Elijah is coming over this morning to come up with the best course of action.” Caroline bit her lip, she had a feeling that Elijah was going to try and talk them out of sending the videos to Damon. Damon was unpredictable and while she knew he would lose his mind to learn that his wife was unfaithful, Caroline was just unsure exactly what lengths he would be willing to go to. “I told him. About the baby I mean.”

“Oh? And what did he say?”

“I think you’ll find, Sweetheart, that when it comes to Elijah, the one thing he cares about above all is family.” Klaus replied, he placed his hand on her stomach and left it there. “This child is not only have us Caroline, Elijah will burn the world down before anyone tries to hurt our baby. And if something were to happen to me...”

“Don’t.”

“Caroline, listen. Please.” His tone was serious and his gaze soft. “I’m not immortal, love. If something were to go wrong and something were to happen to me, you take our baby and you run to Elijah. He will ensure your safety. He secured passage for Rebekah in order to keep her safe from Stefan and Damon, he will do the same for you.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, not wanting to hear this. “We failed with Kol. We won’t fail again.”

“You didn’t fail Klaus.” Caroline whispered. “So, Elijah is happy to be getting a new family member?” Klaus nodded and Caroline smiled. He returned to the screen, muting the sound but continued compiling the images. She curled up in his lap and just let herself relax in his arms. She couldn’t help but look at the screen to see Stefan’s face. “Stefan has been blowing up my phone.”

“That is not surprising.” Klaus replied. “I would not be surprised if he has men roaming the city looking for you. Those friends you have…those spoiled little rich girls you see on occasion.”

“Haley and Aurora?”

“Yes. Them.” Klaus waved his hand, dismissing their names. “He probably sent men to their houses and tore it apart. He probably went to your childhood home also to see if you went back there. Trust me love, he is searching and won’t stop until he finds you.” Caroline felt a shiver run down her spine. “He won’t find you, Sweetheart. I won’t let him, but it does mean you might have to stay in the penthouse for a small while.”

“Okay.” Klaus looked down at her in surprise. He was expecting more of a fight, but she just smiled. “I don’t like it. I spent years being a prisoner in my own home, I don’t want to have to do it again, but this isn’t just about me. Like you said. We have a baby to protect.” Klaus’s smile melted Caroline’s heart and she couldn’t help but kiss him. “Although, you might need to have some clothes and other stuff brought here because I can only wear the same pair of jeans and your Henley’s for so long.”

“That can be arranged.”

“And…I might have texted Stefan.” Klaus’s body froze and his eyes darkened. “I told him that I was leaving him and that I wasn’t coming back. Then I walked away, and I have no idea what he said. Probably threating me or something.” Klaus pulled her closer. She knew that he would not like the idea of her speaking to Stefan, but she felt like she needed to do it.

“No matter. He won’t find you.” Klaus’s resolve was final and absolute. Caroline nodded and stood from his lap. He pouted slightly when she pulled away.

“Don’t pout. I’m going to shower before Elijah shows up.” She leaned down and kissed him again before walking out of the office. She padded barefoot through the penthouse, feeling more at home than she had in a very long time. She entered the bedroom that she assumed she would begin sharing with Klaus and went into the bathroom; ignoring her phone that was still ringing.

Once she was done in the shower, Caroline went to the dresser. She did have a few items there, mostly lingerie that Klaus bought her. There were a few other items, a couple of tank-top and a jacket, that would last her a few days, but she would have to get more. She pulled out a pair of racy red panties and slipped them on. She pulled on the matching bra before pulling on her jeans from the day before. She walked over to Klaus’s closet and pulled out a grey Henley.

Klaus could deal with her stealing his shirts for a bit.

She grabbed her phone, which was fully charged, and checked it. Stefan called her nearly thirty-six times and the number of messages he sent her were ungodly. She rolled her eyes and pocketed the phone. As she left the bedroom, running her hands through her damp curls, Caroline could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Klaus and Elijah were sitting at the kitchen counter, Elijah drinking a cup of coffee; listening to his brother speak.

“That is reckless Nikaus. The last thing we want is the Salvatore’s to be able to trace your location back to his penthouse.” Elijah reasoned. Klaus scowled but nodded. Elijah turned to Caroline and gave her a warm smile. “Hello Mrs. Sal-“Klaus hissed at his brother for the address. “Caroline. I believe congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.” She pulled a cup out of the cabinet and went to the coffeemaker and poured herself a cup. She turned to see both Klaus and Elijah’s eyes on her, watching her. She narrowed her eyes at them and put her hands on her hips. “Oh no. I may be pregnant, but one cup of coffee is not going to hurt me or the baby, so if either of you try and take this from me, there will be hell to pay.”

“We said nothing, love.”

“And keep it that way.” Caroline muttered and felt the phone in her back pocket vibrate. She pulled it out again and groaned. Stefan was calling her again. She declined the call and turned her phone on silent. “I need a new number.” She tossed the offending phone on the counter. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Elijah and I were discussing the manner of how the videos should delivered. I was just going to send them off in an email and let the pieces fall where they may, but Elijah believes that they should be mailed but that leaves room for them falling into the wrong hands. Or Elena checking the mail and coming across them first.”

“Can emails be encrypted?”

“It’s possible yes.”

Caroline paused, thinking. There were so many possibilities and while their goal was to turn Damon against Stefan, that would only be a temporary solution. It would only get rid of half the problem; but only if Damon acted as they predicted he would. Once that storm blows over and Damon is left standing, then what? She understood that Elijah was only trying to protect them for what comes at that point. While Damon would be distracted with the news of his wife and brother’s betrayal, they did not want him to have information that could potentially be an issue later on.

“I have an idea.” Caroline replied and the two of them looked at her. She sat her coffee cup on the counter and picked up her phone. “I’ll send them. This phone is encrypted, and Klaus ensured that it can’t be traced. If anything, it will bounce back to my old phone because the number is still the same. Damon already knows my email address, so it won’t be coming from an unexpected source.”

“Would he even check an email if you sent one?” Elijah asked.

“Probably not. Although, they are out looking for me so it’s possible he might.” Caroline paused and thought. “But what if I tell him to check it.” Klaus began shaking his head, as though he did not want her to have anything to do with either of the Salvatore brothers anymore. “Hear me out. I call him. He probably will answer because Stefan is on a wild goose chase looking for me. I will not come in physical contact with him and he will be so focused on the email, that he won’t even be worried about me.”

“I see why you like her brother. She has quick mind.” Elijah gave her a rare smile. Klaus still looked unsure but there was a hint of pride behind his eyes. “We should do it sooner rather than later. Caroline, are you sure you want to involve yourself in this?”

“I’m already involved.” Caroline looked at them both. “Damon will assume I am a heartbroken wife who is confessing her husband’s affair with his wife. He isn’t going to think that I am connected to Klaus. That way when the time comes to take down Damon, which will be easier once Stefan is out of the way, he won’t see you coming. He won’t suspect my involvement with you.”

“Very well. Shall we?” Elijah stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he did. Caroline nodded. Klaus picked up Caroline’s phone and held out his hand. The two linked their fingers together and headed towards his office, Caroline enjoying her coffee as they went; Elijah trailing behind them.

Klaus scrolled through the messages from Stefan and Caroline could see his features grow darker. Message after message were threats of what he would do to her when he got his hands on her. She could tell that the images of her bruised body were flashing through Klaus’s mind. She squeezed his hand to remind him that she was there with him, safe and despite the chaos, she was happy.

Stefan’s name flashed up on the screen again and Klaus quickly ignored it. He went into Stefan’s contact information and blocked the number so at least the messages and calls would stop. There was no point in putting Caroline through that harassment; it served no purpose. Klaus thought that once this was all done, Caroline would have to get a new number and start fresh. Once they entered the office, Klaus handed Caroline her phone and went behind his desk. Caroline moved to sit on the edge of the desk while Elijah made himself comfortable in one of the other chairs.

Klaus typed away on his computer and after a moment, Caroline heard a notification go off; informing her that she had an email. Klaus sent her the file that contained Stefan and Elena’s sex videos and Caroline scowled at how massive it was. She quickly downloaded it onto her phone and deleted the email; and for good measure, erased it from her trash bin as well. She also did a quick password change to be safe incase Stefan decided to try and hack her email. Once done, she opened up a new email and composed one to Damon, attaching the video now stored on her phone.

“Ready love?”

“As I’ll ever be. I guess.” Caroline pulled up Damon’s contact information and hovered over it. She rarely ever called him. In the last few months, Stefan had been monitoring her text messages, phone calls and emails to ensure that she didn’t reach out to Damon at all. Even if she wanted to speak with Damon, Stefan made it nearly impossible for her to do so. After a deep breath, Caroline dialed Damon’s number; putting the call onto speakerphone. She listened to the phone ring a few seconds before Damon’s voice came onto the lie.

“You really are asking to be punished, Blondie.” Damon answered, his voice having that hint of sarcasm that he was known for. “You do realize that Stefan has a man hunt out for you right now? I just left that feisty red-heads house. She bit me.”

“Good for Aurora. Did you leave her alive?” It was cruel, Caroline knew, but she felt no remorse if Aurora met a tragic end at Damon’s hands. She wasn’t exactly a good friend nor were they close. The ‘friendship’ she shared with both Aurora and Haley were superficial and lacked depth; something Stefan liked about them. They posed no risk but still showed the world that Caroline had a life; a façade.

“She isn’t our concern right now.” Caroline rolled her eyes. “Listen. Tell me where you are. I’ll come and get you and maybe I can keep Stefan from putting you in the hospital. The longer you hold out, the worse his temper will be.”

“I’m not coming home Damon. Stop looking. You won’t find me.”

“Give us time.” Damon chuckled. “If you don’t want to be found, why are you calling?”

“It’s a curtesy call. That’s all.” Caroline flashed a look to Klaus; whose eyes were black and dark. “I’ll make this quick. A few months ago, when Stefan lost control and cracked one of my ribs and chocked me. I lied to you. It wasn’t because I was out with a friend all night. It was because I caught Stefan in bed with your wife.” Caroline could hear how still Damon went on the other line. “Stefan and Elena have been having an affair for months and I figured you should know.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?” Caroline replied. She quickly typed on her phone and sent off the email. “Check your email Damon and you will see how honest I’m being. Do what you will with the information. I’m just the messenger.” She could hear Damon typing on his phone and she assumed he was pulling up her email. “Goodbye Damon. Stop looking for me.”

With that, Caroline hung up the phone. Both Klaus and Elijah sat back in their chairs with nothing to say. There really was not much to do at that point. They made their move and now it was time see Damon’s reaction. It could be instantaneous, or it could take days. While she could predict that Stefan would act on impulse, Damon was a wild card. He could act immediately or stew on the information for days.

“I’ll keep men eyeing Damon’s home in case he goes after Elena first.” Klaus replied. “I’ll monitor the security feed to see if Damon come to seek out Stefan.” He paused thinking. “Perhaps we should have them tailed? Damon is smart enough to know when he is being followed but with this, he may not care.”

“I can put a few agents on them both, with instructions not to intervene if the two would clash.” Elijah replied. “They already know that the FBI is investigating them, therefore it would not come as a surprise if they are noticed.” Klaus nodded and Elijah pulled out his phone, sending off message after message. “Now I supposed we wait.”

It took longer than Caroline expected for Damon to react. Days passed and they heard nothing from any of the men that were tailing either Stefan or Damon. Stefan was searching every inch of New York looking for Caroline. However, she did not leave the penthouse; pleased at the fact that Klaus had balconies and rooftop access if she felt the need to go outside.

Klaus had a minion shop for Caroline and by the next day, she had an entire new wardrobe, bathroom supplies and essentially moved into the penthouse with Klaus. She even made an offhand comment about adding a few throw pillows and fluffy blankets to the living room; those were ordered and delivered before the week was out. Klaus wanted her to make herself at home and she did.

It was the following Sunday night that she was curled up on the sofa; the fire going and buried under one of the blankets Klaus bought that they heard something. She was staring at the ultrasound in her hand, imagining their child running around the penthouse. She thought on whether or not she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom or do something else with her life. Stefan never allowed her to have a job or finish college. Klaus would want to her to follow her dreams and she let her head wonder at the possibilities.

“Caroline.” Klaus replied, his head peeking out from his office. He waved for her to follow him. She pushed the blanket of off her and made her way into Klaus’s office. He had been taking the surveillance of her old home seriously. While he still went into the office, in order to keep up appearances, he spent more time at the penthouse with Caroline than he had previously. During the hours that he could not be watching the cameras, he had someone do it for him; either Elijah, an agent or even Enzo.

When she entered the office, she moved around the desk and saw her old living room. It looked messy and trashed, probably from Stefan’s temper. She could see bottles and bottles of alcohol littering the floor. Beyond the shot the camera provided, Caroline could not see much more. Stefan and Elena were in the middle of the room arguing about something. Klaus turned the sound up and the two of them to hear their conversation.

“He knows Stefan. I don’t know how he figured it out. He has been acting off for days. I caught him today tearing through my things. He took my phone and read everything” Elena stated urgently. “We need to go. Now. Pack a bag and let’s go.”

“I can’t!” Stefan stated, pointing at the ankle monitor.

“Cut it the fuck off!” Elena whispered harshly. “Once Damon gets ahold of us, the feds will be the last thing we have to worry about.”

“It’s not the fed, Elena. Its Klaus. He is the one doing this.”

“Fuck Klaus. Pack a bag and let’s go.”

“Do you really think that wise Elena?” Both Stefan and Elena’s heads whipped around. Neither Klaus nor Caroline could see him, but Damon’s voice was unmistakable, and Elena’s terrified face told them exactly what they wanted to know. “We were not done with our discussion Elena; a wife should not run out on her husband.”

“Damon…”

“Then again, a wife does not fuck her husband’s brother. I didn’t believe it at first when I learned of your affair, but the proof was undeniable.” The words were biting and harsh. Elena froze in place. “Cortez, do me a favor and escort my wife to the car. Keep her there. I need to have a word with my brother.” A man who Caroline recognized as someone who worked close with Damon came on screen. Elena backed up slowly. Stefan stepped in front of her, but Cortez continued to approach.

“Maddox.”

Maddox stepped into the frame and quickly pulled Stefan away from Elena, allowing Cortez to grab Elena. She started streaming and hitting Cortez. She bit his arm and in response, Cortez slapped her across the face with enough force that she stumbled to the side. Stefan tried to move but Maddox, who was bigger than Stefan, grabbed him by the throat, holding him in place. Cortez picked Elena up from floor and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her from the room while she kicked and screamed. Once Elena’s screams died down, Caroline could hear a shuffle on the auto and Damon appeared on screen, carrying two of her dining room chairs, placing them across from one another and what appeared to be a golfing bag. Damon sat down, crossed his legs and looked at his brother.

“Have a seat Stefan.” Maddox roughly forced Stefan into the chair that Damon sat across from him. “I spent the last view days watching you fuck my wife in various locations in this house.” Damon drawled slowly. “Then, I talked with your men. Maddox here was more than happy to tell me all the times he saw Elena come and go from this house; without me.”

“Maddox works for me.”

“Not anymore. I offered him three times what you pay him to help me with our discussion.” Damon replied. He motioned to Maddox, who moved off screen only to appear seconds later with a large bag in his hand. “Now, Maddox has been itching to do more field work. No more guard duty but the problem is, he needs practice. I figured that now would be the perfect time for him to gain experience.”

“Is this your game? You’re going to torture me?” Stefan replied. Maddox reached for Stefan’s coat and pulled it off, along with his shirt. He did not move, instead keeping his eyes on his brother at all times. Neither were willing to flinch.

“I’m not. Maddox is.” Damon motioned for Maddox to open his bag. He pulled out some kind of can, shook it and then pulled out a lighter. Maddox looked at Stefan thoughtfully before setting clicking the lighter and spraying the can. A burst of flame appeared, and Stefan screamed, deep burns appearing on the side of his chest. It went on for several minutes; Maddox burning various parts of Stefan’s body. “When did it start? The affair.”

“Fuck you.”

And thus, began the interrogation. Damon would ask question after question regarding his relationship with Elena. Stefan would refuse to answer, and Maddox would start to burn him. Once Maddox grew tired of the smell of burning flesh, he switched to sharp wooden picks. He inserted the small picks under Stefan nail’s, pulling upwards until a nail was completely ripped off. Damon would ask other questions and if Stefan’s answer was not sufficient, Maddox would rip another nail. Eventually Stefan had no nails let and Maddox switched to knives…and then blunt objects. Damon never took his eyes away from his brother.

Caroline watched the screen, unable to take her eyes away from him. Klaus slipped his hands into hers, never letting go. Part of him wanted to pull her away and shield her eyes but he knew she needed to witness this. So, instead he stayed silent, watching as Caroline took in every scene before them. She didn’t blink or move. She stood there with her shoulder’s back and an unreadable expression on her face. Her free hand still clutching the ultrasound picture.

“Stop.” Damon’s voice commanded. Maddox withdrew the knife he was using to cut a large gash over his chest, slicing open the burns on his chest. Damon stood from his chair. He opened the golf bag and pulled out a golf club. “Remember how dad loved to golf? Every Sunday, like clockwork we would go to the course. Remember how you killed him? Your very first kill was our father. I still remember looking at his detached head. I buried his body. I covered for you. And how do you repay me? You fuck my wife.”

With the last word, Damon swung the golf club; hitting Stefan on the side of the face. Blood spat from his mouth, splattering across the white leather couch Caroline purchased after her wedding. With one swing, it was like a tsunami crashed into land for the first time. Damon let loose. Swing after swing, hit after hit; Damon would not let up. Stefan fell to the ground and Damon continued to beat him with the golf club. When he stopped, Damon looked down at his brother and spat on him. He tossed the club to the side and walked away, never looking back at his brother as he left the house. At first, Caroline thought that Stefan had died right there, but when his body twitched, and he pulled himself up slightly; she was surprised.

“He isn’t dead.”

“No but he will be. An hour, maybe two.”

“Take me to him.” Caroline stated and Klaus blanched. He was about to protest when Caroline held up her hand. “Take me to him. I won’t be alone if you come with me, but I need to see him.” She sucked in a breath. “I need to tell him that it was me. That I was the one who put him in that position. I want to be the last person he sees when he dies, knowing that I was responsible. I want to watch him die.”

Klaus looked unsure of himself; thoughts going back and forth about what the right answer was. He wanted to keep her from Stefan at all cost, even during his final hours of life, but he knew that Caroline would go without him; and he would never stop her from anything. He would prefer to be with her instead of her going alone.

“Okay.”

The drive through the city was quiet and Klaus did what he could to avoid most of the traffic. It was snowing and Caroline could not help but think how beautiful it was. There was an almost romantic feel to it, in a way. Caroline got married during a winter snowstorm in the middle of January almost two years prior and seeing how the marriage was ending; she felt that the snow was fitting.

When they reached the mansion she once viewed as a prison, she couldn’t help but notice how dead it looked. Not a single light could be seen through the windows. The front door was kicked down and it honestly amazed Caroline that the place was not swarming with police. Then again, the house was huge and the distance between the houses were significant. When she entered the house, the foyer seemed like it always had; cold.

“Please, stay here. He can’t hurt me.” Caroline placed a hand on Klaus’s chest and pleaded with him. “If I need you, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll be right through the archway, no farther.” Caroline nodded, agreeing to the compromise. He did not want to put her in danger but understood that she needed to do this. She turned from him and made her way into the living room. Unlike the foyer, the living room was destroyed. It was far worse in person than on computer monitor. Beside the liquor bottles and general mess, it appears that Stefan must have flown into a rage when Elena told him that Damon knew about their affair. He must have torn the room apart. The chairs were in the same place as they were when Damon had Maddox torture Stefan. The man in question was resting against the sofa, having propped himself up; unable to go any further. Caroline strolled over to the chair Damon had previously occupied, stepping over debris and bottles as she went, and sat down; looking at Stefan.

“Hello Stefan.” Her voice was gentle but there was a layered mirth behind it. Stefan was worse for wear. His injuries were far worse up close than she expected. Parts of his skin were covered in blisters from Maddox’s flames and there were at least a dozen gashes cut deep into his skin. He was covered in dry blood; some of which was seeping out of his mouth. His eyes held a slight glaze to them, but he was focused completely on her. “That looks like it hurts.”

“What do you want?”

“Can’t a wife come check on her husband?” That caused Stefan to give a humorless laugh, which was followed but the grabbing of his abdomen; almost tumbling over in pain. “In truth, I came back because I have a confession to make.” Stefan looked like he didn’t really care about whatever Caroline had to say, and that made the moment almost sweeter. She was the last person he wanted to be with when he died. “I’ve been having an affair.”

“Let me guess, the bodyguard?” Stefan coughed out. She could tell he wanted to roll his eyes but was in too much pain to do so. “I’ve suspected that the two of you were sleeping together. Always using him when you left. Figured sticking you with multiple guards would stop that. If I discovered for sure, I was going to kill the both of you and be done.”

“It wasn’t Enzo. He covered for me, but I’ve never had sex with him.” Caroline replied, a wicked smile graced her lips. She wanted to see the look on his face when he realized the gravity of his foolish mistake. Stefan underestimated her and Caroline that no one would do so ever again. “Ask me who I’ve been sleeping with.”

“Honestly, I don’t care.” Stefan replied. Caroline stood from her chair and knelt down beside him. She viewed a gash that ran over a burn mark. She reached out and pressed her nail into it. She twisted it, feeling the blood surge around her finger. Stefan locked his jaw, trying to prevent himself from screaming. Caroline enjoyed the sight of him suffering from the pain she caused him.

“Ask me who I have been sleeping with.”

“Who have you been fucking Caroline?”

“Klaus Mikaelson.”

That visceral reaction Stefan tossed her was worth every second of the misery she suffered at his hands. Stefan jerked towards her and she jumped back slightly; a look of triumph on her face. Stefan was huffing and blistering, blood spurting from his lips. His eyes held a fire inside that would have terrified Caroline if Stefan was in his right form.

“You bitch.”

“It’s hitting you isn’t it? All those times you and Damon discussed your plans in front of me. Letting details slip here or there? I heard it all. You thought I was empty headed and weak. No. I listened to everything. Remembered everything.” Caroline sat back down in the chair and crossed her legs. “We’ve been sleeping together for at least ten months. The first time he fucked me was in his office, after I told him you were in love with Elena.”

“Elena and I were not together ten months ago.”

“No. But I knew you loved her. All those times you whispered her name in my ear? I figured it out. I told him that the way to take you down was to drive a wedge between you and Damon, using Elena. And then I took my dress off for him and let him fuck me just because I knew it would piss you off.” She cocked her head. “I’m pregnant and you’re going to die. Elena most likely is going to die. Klaus will hunt Damon down, and he too will die. The Mikaelson family lives and grows inside me, while the rest of yours die. I win Stefan.”

With that, Caroline watched him. He couldn’t speak and she could tell that he was in agony. His breathing started laboring and she knew it would be soon. Stefan tried to look away from her, but Caroline would lean bend down and make him look at her. She was going to be the last thing he saw on this earth. It didn’t take long; less than an hour after she arrived did Stefan take his last breath. His eyes glassed over and soon there was nothing left.

And just like that, Caroline became a widow.

She stood from her chair, giving Stefan’s body one last look before turning and heading back out to the foyer. Klaus was still there, leaning against the wall; a proud smirk on his lips. She knew that he heard every word. Not being able to help herself, she walked over to him and pulled him into an embrace. She kissed him deeply, pouring every ounce of relief, passion and bloodlust she felt in that moment. Klaus understood what she needed.

“I’m done here.” She whispered when their lips broke apart. “Take me home.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Oof. I got carried away in these Anon answers. Warning, one of the questions deals with S12 spoilers (marked in the answer).

Check it below the cut 👇

1. Ah, a newbie! Hello friend! I hope you are enjoying our little fandom while you go through your first watch. I admittedly do not remember my fics off the top of my head, but I asked the others in the Discord and they compiled this list of Fics that DO contain spoilers:

Not your Backup; It's not You, It's Her; Dark Side; Big Bad Wolf; Bigger Bitch than Payback; Teacher's Pet; Protege; H2M; Repentance; Phoenix; and I Like It Like That.

Everything else should be relatively safe. I try not to focus too much on the plot of the show, since I want people to be able to imagine whichever version of Spencer they want.

2. You’re such a sweetheart. I’m glad you enjoyed my batshit Reader. She would be very flattered. I’m glad you get something unique from my writing, but there are tons of amazing other authors on here! They just haven’t been blown up like me... yet 😜 It’s still weird to me that people recognize my username or know who I am. I probably won’t ever get used to it.

3. 🚨 Spoilers for S12 🚨 Aaaaa every time Diana and Spencer are in a scene together, ever, I just cry. I have to write a scene with her in H2M soon and I am overwhelmed. I hope you’re doing well, too, my love! ❤️

4. Ah, we’re probably too late there 😂 Honestly, I don’t really ever get overwhelmed about the requests I have or unfinished works. I know I should, but I don’t. I just write what I want.

Since I’m betaing for a BDSM fic for the foreseeable future, it’s going to be on my mind. I’d rather start writing it while I want to than risk losing that inspiration in the future. Especially since it’s not a true “series” and won’t really have a decent sized plot. Just good ol’ fashion porn.

5. Ugh, I wish I could write for Hotch, but I don’t want to get too far out of Spencer mode. That being said, the amazing authors of @dontkissthewriter , @hyperfixations-galore , and @httpnxtt all told me they were willing to write Hotch. I highly recommend all of them.

6. I find this message... strange. Particularly the “actually start getting them done” part. Closing my requests wouldn’t make anything come faster, and history shows it also wouldn’t stop me from getting requests.

I often get the advice that I should just close my requests, but there are a few reasons I don’t:

(A) It would not stop me from getting requests – I promise. Several of the last 20 requests I’ve gotten started with some variant of “I know your requests are closed/idk if you take requests.” People will ask, and I don’t mind listening to their ideas. See C below.

(B) I would have to shut off Anon, since people consistently request Part 2s despite it being written in several places that I do not write Part 2s. Closing Anon would mean that about 50% of all of my feedback would disappear. People don’t comment or DM me nearly as much as they message me on Anon. I like getting feedback and talking to people. Anon is the best way for me to do that. So in the end, I would still get requests, and I would lose out on all the wonderful messages I get from shy people.

(C) I don’t lose sleep over requests I take awhile on or things I might never be able to write. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s just reality. This is why I warn people that it will be a very long time before your fic comes (and beg them to ask other people if they don’t want to wait – there are SO MANY GOOD AUTHORS ON HERE). You are always welcome to tell me you want to take it back or ask someone else. 

This is where the strangeness comes in, and admittedly, a little bitterness on my part. The implication I’m not putting work out fast enough is absolutely ludicrous. In the past 3-4 months, I’ve put out four hundred thousand words worth of content. That is the equivalent of five published novels. There is nothing in the entire universe that could make me write faster than I already do. It’s just preposterous to think that’s possible.

The only way I’m able to keep up with such an intense writing streak is because I have a wide array of topics to choose from. While it does suck for the people who have been waiting for forever, I can’t turn my brain on to a subject and demand performance for any particular person. Whatever came out would not be fun and you wouldn’t like it.

I really, really try my hardest to please as many people as possible, and the few Anon messages I get (on top of you beautiful, wonderful, amazing people who leave comments or DM me with commentary) are the reason I share them with you guys. Half the time, I won’t even hear back from the Anons who I do write for, so it’s hard for me to hear people suggest I am not doing enough, even if that wasn’t the intention.

At the end of the day, I’ll make someone happy and disappoint 40 other people. Closing requests won’t do anything but further isolate me from the feedback that makes me want to write in the first place.

And as always, if you want me to write your request sooner, the easiest way to do that is to talk to me about it. The more you bring the idea to my head (preferably through plot points, dialogue ideas, and visuals), the more likely it is I’ll become inspired to want to write it.

Sorry if that sounded harsh, but I did get a little in my feelings on this one. You probably didn’t mean it to sound like I took it, but it’s midnight and I’ve been writing for like 10 hours 😂

Thanks for your concern; I hope this cleared some stuff up for you. Thanks as always for support and reading my work. I hope you enjoy whatever I put out, anyway!

[duker42]

Sorry this might be kind of long, but could I request a fic where the reader has this ability to connect to a person's past/future only during her climax. Since it is emotionally intimate and involves being connected physically(literal)- she is able to flashback/forsee her partner's past/future. The first time she had sex with Levi, she was able to see a successful expedition. In other words, she was able to predicted all the tactics and ambush used for a victorious mission. (1A)

💜Predictive💜

The first time they had sex was night before their expedition. Y/N had shied away from it before, making excuses on why they shouldn’t. But that night, she had come to him and practically ripped his clothes off to be with him.

Not that Levi minded in the least. He loved the fact that his girlfriend had finally decided to move forward in their relationship. The night before they left the safety of the walls and risked their lives for humanity was definitely a night where he felt the need to connect with her.

He hadn’t expected the connection to be so damn vivid on her part. He had sensed that she was cumming, tightening around him and pulled back to watch her as she came undone for him.

Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her eyes closed and she had a vice grip on him. It wasn’t the expression he had expected to see. Right at her peak, her eyes shot up and she cried out “Left flank!”

He was too close himself to stop and question her words, but continued on to reach his own orgasm. But in the back of his mind, her words were repeating in his head.

When they had cleaned up, she seemed like she was trying to bring something up. Hesitating, as if trying to find the words. Levi decided to break the ice with his normal humor. “Old safe word?” He quipped.

It wasn’t a secret both of them had been with lovers before. He hadn’t expected purity or shyness, hadn’t wanted it. While it had surprised him how long it had taken for them to be together sexually, he knew that it was pace she was comfortable with so he had not questioned it.

“No....Levi, I need you to listen to me carefully. Just please listen and do exactly what I say.” She sat up from his bed and looked him in the eye. He leaned back against the headboard and wondered what she was about to tell him.

“Tomorrow, as soon as we get outside the ruins of Plath, take your squad and head for the left flank. There’s going to a swarm of Abnormals there. Send Gunther and Oulo out to the left and Petra and Eld to the right. Have them deploy the ODM right before the first Titan goes to grab you. DO NOT let them deploy any sooner.” Y/N said, her eyes completely serious.

“How could you possibly know where and when the Titans are going to show Y/N?” Levi asked. She had to be pulling his leg.

“It’s going to sound crazy, but when I’m with someone....physically and I....you know, I can predicted things.” Y/N said, her eyes cutting away from his for the first time.

It wasn’t a lie, Levi could always tell when someone was lying to him, it was more fear that made her look away. Fear of rejection or condemnation. He remembered something from a year ago. The time that Y/N had begged Erwin to move an old boyfriend to a different location. He hadn’t, and the kid had come home in a body bag.

“That was why you wanted to have sex tonight? To predict what would happen?” Levi questioned, trying to wrap his mind around the impossibility she was presenting him with.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I slept with you because I love you. The bonus was that I could see how to keep you safe. It only seems to work if I actually orgasm.”

He smirked a bit at the fact that he would always know if she was trying to fake. But then his face went serious again. How must she have felt when she had seen her lovers death and been unable to prevent it from happening.

He pulled her against him and kissed her hair, feeling her relax against him. Sleep wasn’t going to be in the cards for him tonight, his mind was too busy planning out how to make the most of her information.

~~~~~

“Levi, you broke formation. How did you know to head to the left flank?” Erwin wasn’t mad, but he was insistent on knowing what made his Captain totally disregard his orders and head in the opposite direction.

Better yet, he needed to know how they had managed to have an expedition where there were no casualties, a first in Survey Corps history.

Levi leveled a look at the tall Commander and looked pointedly around the room at the other Squad Leaders in their debriefing meeting. “We’ll talk alone.”

~~~~~

Y/N was nervous when she was summoned into the Commander’s office. She had no idea how Levi had handled his conversation with Erwin, choosing to speak privately with him. She had been a little upset when he had refused to look at her, thinking that he had been spooked by her abilities when he had come to get her.

They had walked silently to the office, Levi only turning to look at her right before he opened the door. “Before we go in, I want you know I love you.” He said, his eyes softening as he did.

She felt better, but was still nervous. The door opened and they entered to find Erwin and Hanji sitting there waiting for them. Her apprehension rose.

“Oh my gods! Y/N! What an amazing-“ Hanji started rushing over to Y/N.

Levi quickly stepped in between her and the Y/N. “No, Four Eyes, you aren’t hounding her and playing ten thousand questions.”

He shot Erwin a look at nodded. The Commander unfolded his tall frame where he was casually leaned against his desk and smiled at Y/N. “So, Levi tells me that we have you to thank for our successful mission today.”

She felt him take her hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Only because he listened to me.”

“How does it work?” Hanji spit out, her eyes wide behind her glasses, her body practically vibrating from excitement.

“I don’t know. It just happens when I’m with someone. I get a flash of the future or of their past while we are....connected.” She said, her face flush with embarrassment.

“A year ago, was that why you insisted that Ryan be moved?” Erwin caught on quickly to what had happened. She and the former Scout had been together, and apparently she had seen what was in his future.

She winced and nodded. The Commander sighed heavily, knowing that he shouldn’t feel guilty, but still the idea that he could have save another life for humanity weighing on his already burdened shoulders.

“Is it only sex?” Hanji asked thoughtfully. When Y/N nodded, the scientist deflated a little.

“Y/N, I know it’s difficult, but I’ve already talked to Levi about it. We need to see first hand what you are talking about. Experiment if you will.” Erwin ignored the angry scowl of his Captain. He already knew Levi’s view on it, but that didn’t matter.

Y/N turned to look at Levi, knowing instantly he wasn’t happy about the idea that she perform. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else.” She flatly stated.

“No! Not at all, unless of course you two are into that kind of thing.” Hanji laughed as she stepped out of Levi’s reach.

“Okay. I guess I’ll do it.” Y/N said, not enthusiastic in the least.

~~~~~

Levi had insisted they stay out of his room while they undressed and got in the mood. Erwin had been about to protest when Levi had gotten a very nasty look on his face and demanded to know if they were using this as an excuse for a free peek show. It had effectively shut up any protests.

When he felt like she was ready, he called them into the room but kept his eyes on her. “Ready?”

She nodded and closed her eyes as he pushed inside her. Just like last time, he filled her deliciously. She tried to stifle the moan because of their audience, but Levi kissed her and whispered, “They aren’t here. It’s just you and me.”

He had threatened Hanji with a slow and painful death if she made one fucking comment while they were running their little experiment. It had apparently worked because while she was scribbling furiously in a notebook, she was quiet. Erwin was just watching with those eyebrows of his furrowed.

He kept his pace steady, trying to keep her looking at him as he felt her legs go around his back. Good, she was starting get into it and forget about them. His cock drove into her, causing her back to arch up with each thrust as he filled her.

He reached down between them and rubbed at her clit. Yes it would be nice if he got off, but his main focus was to make sure she came so the experiment wouldn’t be for naught.

He changes angles as he pushes his hips forward, causing her to gasp and grab at his shoulders as he moved. Her hips were moving with his, rising to meet his thrusts as she got closer to the edge.

The two observers were silent, the only sounds from them in the room was the scratching of pen on paper. That was covered by the grunts and moans, the insistent slapping of flesh meeting flesh as they came together again and again.

He felt her get close. Part of him wanted to stop it, hold her close and protect her from whatever was about to go through her mind. The other part knew that if he did, it would be worse for Y/N. It was a strong weapon to have in the Scouts arsenal, and the fact that she was Levi’s would keep her safe from misuse.

She started to buck underneath him, her hips jerking as she sought her release. He glanced over to see both officers leaned forward, eyes absorbed in watching to see her predictive orgasm.

This time was different. His cock was squeezed as she tightened around him, but her cry was almost one of anguish. He knew that she wasn’t physically hurting, her legs still tight around him and her walls milking him closer to his own release with every pulse.

Her eyes shot up and filled with tears as she started sobbing. Her breath was caught, her lungs frozen as her far away gaze was tormented. When she shattered, a pain filled “NOOOOOOO!!!!!” Filled the room.

He had finished right before, and panicked as she covered her face and cried. Unconcerned with anything but her, he pulled her arms away and forced her to look at him.

“Hey....Y/N!” He shook her lightly. “I’m here. It’s okay. We are safe.”

Tears were still falling down the side of her head unchecked as her eyes met his. She shot up and hugged him, wrapping her arms around him while her tears spilled onto his bare shoulder.

“Oh my God. Levi....” Her words were broken up by her trying to catch her breath. Uneven and shaky from the tears.

“What did you see, Y/N?” Hanji spoke for the first time, her voice not excited but concerned from the reaction of Levi’s lover.

She pulled away from him and took his hand as she answered, never looking away from him. “I saw the past.”

Levi’s eyes closed as he realized exactly why she was crying. His past wasn’t exactly pretty. It was filled with pain and loss.

“His mom, she was beautiful, but sick.” Y/N’s voice was hallow, like a victim shutting down emotionally after trauma. “She loved Levi, lived for him. Her body gave out. Some disease that was causing her to waste away.”

She looked over at him and he nodded. He had never told Erwin and Hanji everything about his past, but it seemed like they would find out now.

“He was young when she died. No more than four. I saw him beg her to wake up, lay next to her body as it cooled. When he finally figured out his mom wasn’t waking up, he cried until he got sick. Curled up in the corner of their room, wearing an old blouse of hers and waited to die.” Y/N’s tears were still streaming down her face, but weren’t as heavy as she closed her eyes against the pain of seeing her lover like that.

“His friends. Isabel and Farlan. His agony and self loathing when they died. His disbelief when he saw her head at his feet. Watching Farlan wave goodbye before the Titan closed his teeth around him. I felt his rage when he singlehandedly tore the titans that had stolen his family apart. The grief he feels every time we lose soldiers.” Y/N fell silent.

Erwin and Hanji were quiet and respectful. Erwin’s mind was reeling from the information. The look on Levi’s face had confirmed the truthfulness of her statements. And he himself had arrived just after Levi had finished killing the Titans that day. The unchecked grief and rage swirling in the shorter man’s eyes.

Erwin dragged Hanji from Levi’s quarters, giving the couple privacy after the experiment. He knew she would have to question the girl later, but he wasn’t heartless. He needed to tread very carefully if he was going to get Levi’s approval to use this predictive gift for the good of Humanity.

Mobile MasterList

[pandawritespoorly]

With Time: Chapter 40 - Emancipation

Author’s Note: Adrien has an apartment! I just decided to say that he straight up bought it. Also, reference 'slides' are a bit different this time. I, uh, had a little too much time on my hands, and I found a room/house design thing online and built it off of a random floor plan I'd found, and then decorated the main living space. Also, yes I made sure he had an apartment with a balcony. I haven't looked at it for uh, probably a few weeks now, and I don't have time to fix anything weird, soooo... bear with me? Also, I don't know anything about this in general, it's mostly just to give you a better idea of the setting.

Yes, I purposefully chose the more unusual furniture and decorations.

Anyway, find them here!

Chapter Summary: Adrien gets settled into his new home.

First | Previous | Next

It took time. More than they wanted, and far less than they expected.

It took time, but Adrien is free.

The morning after they’d decided to start their operation a little earlier than expected, there were already articles.

Articles that didn’t look so good for the Agreste brand. Sure, initially, the lawyers tried to keep on top of it, but more came.

And more.

And more.

And more.

The stream of articles was seemingly endless, and just as Marinette suspected, more hidden things came to light over time.

Once there had been a few days of the fashion mogul’s reputation taking a beating, they struck.

Adrien legally began the process to become emancipated.

Gabriel was furious. He demanded Adrien come home, but couldn’t enforce it. The bodyguard quit, openly supporting Adrien’s decision.

Nathalie was the only one to stand by Gabriel.

When the day came that they had to go to court (they suspected Gabriel found a way to have it pushed forward to end the madness sooner), Gabriel’s smug face made his stance clear.

When they’d played the clip. Gabriel looked pale, not having realized that they had that.

It’s not even the end. They not so subtly accuse the man of everything from unpaid child labor to child abuse and there’s proof for all of it.

By the end, Adrien is granted emancipation, along with plenty of Gabriel’s bank account balance as monetary compensation for all that happened.

Which brings them to now. Everyone had had a sleepover at Marinette’s, and now they’re helping Adrien with his new apartment.

Chloe’s movers had finished with the bigger furniture items already, now they were figuring out what else he needed.

Marinette paled as soon as they entered the apartment. She stared for a moment, then walked into a corner and covered her eyes, her back to the room.

“Adrien. I love you. I really do. I understand. But at the same time. I just. Cannot.”

“Aw, Mari, it’s not that bad. It could have been worse,” Adrien teases, well aware of her feelings on the matter. 

When Adrien was choosing furniture for his new home, he’d come to the realization that he truly could choose, anything.

Anything at all.

Some of his motivations had partially been choosing things that would have hurt his Father’s very soul, but mostly, he just chose things that he liked, paying no mind to whether it fit with the style of the room.

In fact, he tried to get as many colors as he could.

And that was just with the furniture. They hadn’t even gotten to the decorations yet.

Marinette’s poor designer soul was having a crisis. Chloe, Allegra, and Felix seemed somewhat uncomfortable looking at the mess, but Allan seemed fine with it. Claude had played the biggest role in helping him choose all the pieces (there was a shark head bean bag that they’d been the one to discover), so they were the least surprised. He and Adrien had matching grins.

They’d been planning, and they were far from done.

Marinette wheels around at the implication that he could have made this worse. “Please don’t,” is all she manages to whisper.

It really isn’t as bad as it could have been, and honestly, if he were to go too far even he’d be uncomfortable. The walls are a cheery yellow, standing out against the dark wood floors. Near the door is a white circular table (it’s hard to call it a ‘dining table’ when all he has for comparison is the one back at Father’s place), with four chairs around it. There are two types of chairs, each pair placed across from each other.

One set, a grape colored oddity, had caught his eye immediately. It was just so different from anything he would have found back at the mansion that he’d been immediately sold. The wide curved bottom is supported by thin trapezoid shaped legs that connect to each other through another metal rod along the bottom. The base of the chair tightens as it becomes the back before widening again in a vaguely crescent shape. It’s partners at the table are entirely different. The bottom is like small wooden stools, a lighter oak color. The ocean colored back starts as smooth wings along the sides before connecting in the back, not even coming close to the stool, leaving a gap.

“At least the other stools are just gray?”

“I’ll just… only ever look at your kitchen. Only your kitchen. Ever.”

That’s fair. He’d left the kitchen alone, and as such it was likely the tamest part of the main room. The stools in question are simple, wood legs with a simple gray seat and back.

There are four of those stools seated at the table, facing into the kitchen. The other side of the surface has a sink. The fridge is in the corner, with more counters next to it, and a stovetop at the end. A microwave hangs on the wall, with wall cupboards next to it. The counters and cupboards are simply white, and the wall behind them is some sort of triangular zig-zag pattern of gray and white.

“Did you end up getting that Ponyo rug?” Allan redirects them.

“Of course!” Adrien hurries to the living room, where, sure enough, most of the space in front of the couch is taken up by a rug with Ponyo’s sisters swimming forward together. The couch itself is three cushions long, the base and back of it being dark gray, while the seat cushions and half of the middle back were light gray. The other two back cushions were half blue.

A short gray coffee table holds the tv, and a fluffy pink beanbag is next to the shark head one, parallel to the wall.

“Yeah,” Chloe quips, “This is what I imagined Adrikin’s decorating as.”

“We aren’t even done!”

“Before you go to the store, you may want to go through each room so we can make a list of what sort of stuff you want to look for,” Sabrina reminds.

Allegra gestures towards the empty walls. “Like what you want to do with your walls.”

“Pictures,” Adrien answers immediately. “I want memories on my walls, not money. I don’t want to put something up just because it’s fancy or expensive. If I have something, it’s going to be because it makes me happy.”

“That is the most precious thing I’ve ever heard. How on earth did you become so sweet in that place?” Claude hugs the former model.

Adrien tries to shrug, but it’s difficult with how many people are hugging him now. 

---

The group leaves the apartment again, having dropped off all the purchases.

“Well, if we’re going to get pictures for you, then we’ll begin with whatever you want to do. Decision time!” Allegra cheers.

“Uhhh… I don’t really know.”

“That’s fine!”

“Yeah, we can just explore the city with you!”

“You’ll have no restrictions for once!”

It would be nice to be able to go around Paris as Adrien without having to worry about an akuma on his tail or Gabriel tracking him down.

“Let’s do it!”

They wander around the city, often stopping at the well known landmarks Adrien had never been allowed to properly visit. Everyone is sure to take pictures of each other, doing their best to catch as many moments as they can. Marinette and Claude catch each other taking pictures of each other, grinning mischievously at each other through the lenses of their phones.

Allegra takes a picture of that.

At one point, inspiration strikes Marinette, who begins planning out loud to Allan, who happens to be the closest. Adrien stares at her with such a soft face, and Felix gets a picture of his expression.

When they get slushies at some point, Allegra has a red one, and Chloe a blue one. Chloe mumbles something about purple being a nice color, and Adrien gets a picture of their blushing faces. When they stand to go, Allegra holds out her hand and says, “Since we’ll be walking for a while, could you hold this for me?”

Their faces get even redder after Chloe takes the other girl’s hand.

Sabrina got a video of that interaction.

One of the group gets a picture of Claude and Adrien mimicking The Thinker.

Eventually, it’s getting a little late. Everyone starts to head back to Adrien’s place, Allan and Marinette muttering to each other.

The pair drag Adrien into a grocery store.

“You need to learn to cook.”

“So ya’ need ingredients.”

Marinette gets out her phone, showing it to Adrien. “These are all fairly simple recipes, so you choose a few you want to try, we can get the stuff for those.”

Adrien bounces where he stands, going through the list and choosing five or so. “Are these good?”

“It’s your choice, so if you want them, then they’re good,” Allan assures.

Adrien smiles at that.

Marinette shoves him towards the others. “Allan and I can get the ingredients, you can choose some pictures. They’re all in that shared album, so just choose your favorites and get them printed.”

He salutes her. “Yes, ma’am!”

---

Adrien unlocks the door, gesturing for everyone to enter.

“Ready to try your hand at cooking?” Allan calls as he and Marinette set the groceries on the counter.

“It sounds exciting!” Adrien cheers, hurrying over to help them put things away.

“The rest of you, out of the kitchen!” Marinette ushers everyone else to the living room. “Shoo!”

“This is ridiculous-”

“Utterly ridiculous, yes Chloe, we know. Out!’

With the other five banished from the kitchen, Adrien, Allan, and Marinette focus on their task.

“So it may be for the best if ya’ choose a recipe that doesn’t need an oven-” Allan starts.

“Just for our piece of mind-” Marinette continues.

“For your first few goes.”

“Of course if you want to try one-”

“That needs an oven-”

“Then we’d certainly support that-”

“But we just aren’t so sure our hearts can handle the stress-”

“Of you ‘playing with fire’-”

“So to speak.”

Adrien just looks between the two of them, blinking a few times. “When did you start finishing each other’s sentences?”

The two look at each other, then shrug, speaking in unison, “It just happens.”

“Claude calls it their ‘Mom-mind-meld’,” Felix informs.

“It’s freaky!” Claude shouts, “One minute they’re normal the next they’re telepathic! Always be on your toes! You never know when it’ll start!”

“We aren’t that bad,” they argue.

Claude gestures at them helplessly. “See?! Same tone! Same inflection! Same everything!” He falls off the couch, then scrambles backwards to hide behind a beanbag.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Ignore them.”

“Anyways, we’ve got to get started-”

“This dinner won’t make itself after all.”

“So here’s the list you made-”

“The ones that don’t need an oven-”

“Are at the top.”

Adrien glances back at his other friends. “Should I be scared?” He stage whispers.

Allegra, for her part, seems to be amused. “You’re fine. Just don’t get hurt. If anything happens then you’ve got two synchronised anxious mom types hovering over you. Just accept your fate, they’ll be fine.”

Adrien turns to the list, eventually selecting one of the ones near the top.

They nod, Marinette reading off the instructions, while Allan supervises Adrien’s actions. For the most part Adrien does it all on his own, though the other boy has to intervene at one point, when Adrien almost cuts his finger off.

When the two have been assured there’s not even a cut, let alone blood, they continue, and soon enough Adrien has finished.

High fives are exchanged, and Marinette produces a gold star from somewhere, sticking it on the recipe card she’d written everything down on.

“Now you know you’ve done this one before!”

“Great job!”

“Hey! Mari! Al’! Over here!”

“Yeah?” Allan answers.

“What?” Marinette asks, confused.

“You’re all good, Claude. They’re back to normal.” Allegra turns to where Claude is presumably hiding.

Sure enough, the actor pops up. “Thank goodness.”

“Adrikins! What did you make?”

In response, Adrien begins to set out plates, and everyone hurries over.

---

“Where are Allegra and Claude?” Marinette asks, setting down her lunch box as she arrives at the lunch table where only Allan and Felix are seated.

“Last minute student tour.”

“Ooh! Exciting!”

School has been strange ever since the news of Lila broke. Her fellow students had definitely seen the story, and she knows they’re not stupid. There’s no way they didn’t piece together that she was the student bullied out of Dupont. She knows there had already been rumors of her having been bullied, and that ‘some girl called Lila Rossi’ had hurt her.

Surprisingly, these rumors didn’t seem to make people dislike her, instead they all just loved her more for it, which had confused Marinette early on. She’d been so stuck in the mindset that people would hate her if given any reason to.

Then the school just decides that they still like her? It had been confusing.

She could tell people were torn. Everyone was aware that it wasn’t their business to bring it up, but everyone acknowledged what happened without flat-out saying it. Mostly, her classmates just seemed to be extra nice for a few days, wanting to see her smile, which was nice, but she can already feel herself trying to figure out how ‘pay them back’ which is a habit she’s been trying to break.

There’s no need for her to ‘pay back’ kindness. Her classmates just wanted to lessen what they knew must have been a stressful experience. Still though, it’s so ingrained in her that she needs to pay someone back for anything and everything.

A new student would be nice, just to change up the norm for a bit.

“What’s up Mari?”

She groans, flopping onto the table. “Nice people are nice, and I’m still trying to convince my brain that that doesn’t require any sort of ‘pay back’.”

Allan frowns. “Oh dear.”

“We will have to work with you on that, but for now, perhaps a distraction would be nice.”

“Like what?”

Felix nods towards the doors to the cafeteria, where she can hear Allegra, “...and here’s the cafeteria.”

Claude continues, “This room contains absolutely no one you’ve ever met before, most definitely not the love of your life, as an example.”

Marinette turns around, seeing Claude, Allegra, and…

Adrien.

She smiles widely, getting up and rushing over.

He catches her in a tight hug, spinning her around. “Hi, Mari. Surprise?”

“Plotters, each and every one of you.”

Claude pretends to be taking an oath. “We only use our powers for good, I promise.”

“Mhm?”

“Okay, maybe sometimes for mischief.”

Allegra rolls her eyes. “With you it’s always mischief.”

“Or puns!” Adrien adds.

“I’ll have you know that my school puns are high class.”

“This. This is my life for the foreseeable future.”

Marinette just pats Allegra consolingly.

“You know Claude, geology rocks, but geography is where it’s at.”

“I can’t even threaten not to finish your tour because you have Claude. This is ridiculous!”

“Aww, you’re starting to sound like Chloe,” Marinette teases.

Allegra goes slightly pink, throwing her hands in the air and walking away. “Allan and Felix will leave me alone.”

Felix shakes his head as she approaches. “If this is about your girlfriend, then it is fair game.”

“We aren’t dating.”

“We can hear the ‘yet’, Ally. Also, we both know I’m not above puns,” Allan chimes in.

“I get no peace.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Adrien consoles, coming over and swiping some of Marinette’s food, who huffs in mock-offense.

---

Author’s Note: Look at Adrien! Becoming an Independent Boy!! Love these precious children!

For those of you that wanted more of Gabriel's entire life coming crashing down around him, I'll be writing that eventually and posting it! No worries! I just need to get my inspiration/motivation back. It ran away and I would like it back now please.

For those of you who want more fluff, I am simply going to redirect your attention to the fact that With Time is now part of a series, and you can now read how the Quantics all met! They're so cute!

Again, find the references for the apartment here! Keep in mind, I didn't decorate it to the fullest extent, and just threw a few random things on the walls, etc, so imagine your own as you please.

Adrien isn't calling Gabriel 'Father' anymore. That man is no one's father.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave any thoughts, theories, constructive criticism, or anything really in my ask box, in replies or through reblogs. I love seeing what you think!

First | Previous | Next

[derryhawkins]

Puppy Love

summary: Right after she breaks up with her abusive boyfriend, Beverly house and dog sits for her two good friends while they’re gone for a month. During this time she has to take the dog to the vet because of a terrible limp, and there she meets the one and only Ben Hanscom – a sweetheart with a pure soul and kind eyes. Untrusting of men other than her three best friends, Beverly believes she’ll never find someone to trust and be with for the rest of her life. But as time goes on, and as she becomes friends with Ben, that belief gradually changes. word count: 5.7k warnings: mentions of abuse (i don’t go into detail); there’s also a bit where she has a panic attack but i don’t go into to much detail there either a/n: hello i meant to post this earlier but i got anxious and then i needed to focus on school bc of a paper and today tumblr is being a bitch, so. sorry lmao. hope you enjoy this tho!! ignore any typos and/or spelling mistakes 

AO3 link

chapter one: bad limp

Beverly Marsh doesn’t trust men – most of them, at least. The only men she does trust are her good friends: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Mike Hanlon.

She and Richie had grown up across the street from one another, and he was the only kid who adamantly stuck by her side through the hells of elementary, middle, and high school in their small town of Derry, Maine. They were both the outcasts there from the get go. A kid who was too talkative for his own good, a boy who came out proudly bisexual in middle school, a teen who couldn’t sit still for the life of him; paired with a kid who had bruises on her body everyday, a girl who learned men looked at her wrong at too young of an age, a teen who got slut shamed for very untrue rumors. Then college came, and the two hauled ass to New York City to go to college, sharing a shitty one bedroom apartment and working hellish hours to scrape by. They didn’t go to the same university, though; Richie went to NYU for four years in drama and then went a different route of standup comedy while Beverly went to a smaller college to get a cosmetology degree.

Those years, they met Eddie Kaspbrak and Mike Hanlon. Eddie was at the same college Beverly went to on way to become a Science teacher, and they both worked at a crappy coffee place. They got along extremely well and after a while she introduced him to Richie, the two beginning their marriage-like bickering instantly. It was no surprise to Beverly when they got together in their second year of college. The feisty young man complemented their duo extremely well from the get-go, officially making them into an inseparable trio in no time. Then comes in Mike Hanlon, a sweet boy who grew up on a farm and who was on his way to become the best veterinarian known to man. ("I'm not gonna be the best one, guys, chill." - "Well, we think you will be.") He was Eddie’s room mate and about the time Eddie and Richie started dating was when Mike got pulled in, making their group an even four. Beverly had been hesitant at the time. Her father and every man back home made her wary of how men and boys would be towards her, her own boyfriend no help to that thought process at all, but Mike was quick to prove her wrong. He didn’t stare at her as if she were a piece of meat – hell, he still doesn’t, and neither do the other two (for obvious reasons) – and he’s never anything but gentle.

And then there’s Tom.

How she ended up with a nearly carbon copy of her father as a boyfriend during college is beyond her. He looked harmless back then, Bev remembers; he charmed her way into her life, making her believe everything was fine, but then slowly started manipulating different situations and raising his hand at her and verbally threatening her. She should’ve gotten out of it sooner but something kept her there with the asshole; something kept her from telling her friends, coming up with lame excuses as to why another bruise had formed on her wrist.

Fast forward some years. The even four graduated – Tom, too – and Richie beings to work his ass off to get gigs and all for his stand up comedy career that hopefully won't flop, and Eddie’s searching for assistant teaching jobs, and Beverly is working at really nice hair salon that pays well, and Mike is in Veterinary School. And she’s still with Tom; her friends are starting to catch on, if they hadn’t before. A few more years down the line, Richie gets a big break (okay not that big, but it's a break nonetheless), and somehow becomes extremely popular among the teens after his tweet about his cute but angry chihuahua like boyfriend. Eddie has been an assistant teacher for a couple years now and getting ready to become just a regular teacher; and Mike’s out of Veterinary School, and Bev’s opening up her own salon after a two year business program at a community college. She’s still dating Tom.

Until she’s not. At 26, Beverly has had enough. After nearly seven or eight years of something she grew up enough with because of her father, she gains the courage to finally stand up again to her another abusive man in her life. The other three finally knew the entire truth and with their help and pep talks and comforting words and hugs, Beverly stands up for herself. She dumps Tom. A fight ensues. She acquired a few new bruises and he expects her still in their shared apartment when he comes home from work. But when he’s gone, through tears and cries, she packs up everything. Literally everything. And then she’s getting in the crappy Honda she’s had since her first year in college with all of her belongings and driving to Richie’s and Eddie’s house just a little bit away. They aren't there, though. Richie is on a mini tour for a month and to because it was the summer and to celebrate the fact someone hired him as an actual teacher for the upcoming school year, Eddie tagged along.

Beverly doesn’t trust men, and the full reason why hits her like a train as she sits in her best friend’s and his boyfriend’s home, alone and honestly a bit scared. It makes her sad thinking over how much she loves and trusts three guys with her life, but two harmful men and the disgusting, predatory looks from other men out weighs her best friends’ good intentions. As she sits there, suitcases haphazardly pushed into the living room and body sore, she wonders if she should go to the doctor. It’s only a few bruises and a busted lip, though. Eddie, if he knew, would be fussing over her and dragging her out of the house in an instant to get her checked on from worry – the opposite of what his mother did constantly to him as a child.

The redhead chuckles at the thought of the Kaspbrak fretting over her, but then a few tears are leaving her eyes and suddenly she’s crying again, and wanting to call one of her boys, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to. Not yet, anyway. Richie’s having too much fun, Eddie’s enjoying his break, Mike is already working, having a good time while doing so. They didn’t need to worry over her while they’re living their lives to the fullest.

A bark interrupts her thought process and she blinks, confused for a split second until she remembers Sid. A black lab with too much energy for her own good, just a little over a year old. Richie and Eddie had gotten Sid when she was four months old. They almost didn’t get her all because they weren't sure how often they'd get to spend with the puppy. Both are home more often than they thought, though still both of their jobs restrain them from spending the amount of time they want with the puppy - less often than they first thought, though. Thankfully, both Mike and Bev are available more often than not, Bev the most. They help take care of Sid when the couple can’t, which honestly isn't that much, and the adorable dog has somehow formed into everyone’s pet over time with how often they're all at the Tozier-Kaspbrak house.

Bev wipes under her eyes and cheeks, wincing at her palm pushes into the bruise on her cheek too hard, and makes her way through the house to the back door. She peers outside to the fenced backyard and sees Sid near the back, tail up and ears perked; on high alert. The dog probably heard something she didn't like, or maybe saw a squirrel. Beverly opens the door after she unlocks it, and one hand rests on the door frame.

“Sid!” She shouts to get the dogs attention. “C’mere, girl!” Sid yaps and runs to Beverly instantly, and the woman’s laughing a bit as she crouches down, the dog attacking her with licks. Beverly pets the dog in return and moves to sit on her butt. “Hey, girl. You missed me, huh? I was just here yesterday, though, before your dads left. You miss them, too? Hm, I bet. I do. Yeah, I do, and they miss you, no doubt about it. C’mon, hey- oof, let me stand up, girl. Sid- Okay, thank you. Hey, can you sit? I’ll give you treat! Good girl, let me take a picture.”

Beverly snaps a picture of Sid, the black lab’s tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she pants, floppy ears forward and dark eyes wide. She quickly sends the picture to Eddie, paired with a text of heart and dog emojis and ‘she misses u!’. She then ushers Sid inside, brows furrowing when she thinks she sees the dog limping, but it was hard to tell. She quickly finds the dog treats in the kitchen pantry, and feeds Sid one right as she gets a reply from her friend.

[from: coffee buddy 11:49 am MNFK SHES SO CUTESJDK I MISS HER TOO GIVE HER LOVE SOME LOVE FOR US]

[to: coffee buddy 11:50 am i'll be sure to give her all the love dw ur pretty lil head]

[from: dipshit 11:52 am SID!!!!!!! THE CUTEST!!!!!!!!!! THANK U FOR UR SERVICE BEV]

[to: dipshit 11:52 am mwah ur welcome rich x]

She smiles at their reactions. It's cute and something she's seen a thousand times throughout the year they've had Sid. One time, she had watched and listened to Richie gush over Sid sleeping with her head in Eddie's lap, his boyfriend drifting off to sleep as well. Unfortunately, that memory ends with Tom calling her and demanding her home for the night, cutting the friends' fun night together short.

Beverly finds herself frowning at the memory and doesn't bother to keep track of Sid as she wanders throughout the house. The young woman stays in the kitchen, her mood coming back down. She brushes stands of her long hair out of her face, her features scrunching up in disgust. She hates it long. Hates the way it gets the way and how she always has to do something with it, always having to get tangles out at the ends. Tom loves her long hair though, and after some persuasion back in college, Beverly grew it out again and kept it at the same mid-back length. Her stomach churns with the realization her father liked her hair long, too. It was the reason she chopped it all off in the first place. Self-hate settles in her, and she can feel the tears coming back as she leans against the counter when her phone starts ringing again. She jumps. The irrational part of her brain is telling her that the caller is Tom, that he somehow found out that she left home while at work, and he's coming over to drag her back. The other part - the rational part - knows that can't be it.

With shaky hands, she pulls her phone back out. Relief floods through her at seeing the familiar number of one of her clients. She sighs and presses the green dot on the screen before putting it on speaker. It was Audra Phillips, a wonderful woman around her age that started coming to Beverly's own salon the moment it opened, always complimenting Bev's work and saying how the redhead should be a renowned stylist for hair, makeup and clothes. "Hi, Audra," she greets, hoping her voice doesn't give off the fact that she had been close to crying.

"Beverly, hi!" Audra greets, happy. If she can tell something is up, she doesn't say anything. "I was just wondering if we're still on for one today? It's just- I'm busy these next couple days and there's a court case Friday, and I really don't want to look like shit. The split ends are bad. And it's my first one, y'know?"

"Of course, yeah," Beverly does her best to sound up beat. "I was actually just about to leave to get everything ready." It's a lie, but the other woman doesn't need to know that. Until Audra called, Beverly's mind had completely pushed away her one o'clock appointment, too engrossed into the early morning fight with Tom and her leaving without his knowledge.

"Wonderful! You are a life saver, Marsh, I fucking love you."

A genuine smile reaches her lips. "It's truly no problem, Audra. I'll see you at one."

They hang up, and Beverly goes to the bathroom after fishing her makeup bag from one of her suitcases. She stares at herself, taken back by the appearance. The bruise on her cheek is worse than she thought, and she had dried blood she didn't know about on her chin from the cut on her lip. Her striking blue eyes are bloodshot and rimmed red from crying on and off throughout the morning, and her bright red hair was a bird's nest. She is a complete and utter mess, and she has no idea how to make it seem like she isn't. But she does her best for the next ten minutes; she covers up the bruise with ease, and does her make up to where the only indication of her crying are the bloodshot eyes. She tames her hair to the best of her ability and just throws it into a ponytail. She keeps what she's already wearing on - a tee from Disney World that she got a some years back when she and her three friends were all free of school - with light skinny jeans and converse. Then, she puts Sid back outside in the backyard, grabs her keys, makes sure the doors are all locks and that the lights are off, and finally leaves.

+++

"-and I've always wanted to start a fashion line. Or do something with fashion, and make up too, which is why I started that- that...what's the word? Oh, well, that thing where people can make appointments for getting their makeup and hair done for dates, or prom, or whatever - oh, a bundle! The two in one. Gosh, I'm the owner and can't even fucking remember these things correctly," Beverly says, wincing as she remembers that she's talking to a customer. "Sorry for my language."

Audra chuckles from where she sits directly in front of Beverly, the woman behind her snipping away at her now wet hair. "You know I don't care about your language, Bev, keep on with it. And don't down talk yourself, sweetie, everyone forgets things."

They meet eyes in the mirror and share a smile. Audra has been at the salon for some time now. Beverly washed the other woman's hair before actually starting to cut it, per Audra's request. During that time they had conversed about a million and one things, leaving one conversation to go to another only to jump back to a topic that had long since been forgotten when one of them remembered something else. It was nice, Beverly had to admit. It was getting her mind off of that morning.

"Would you add fashion if you could? To the bundle - making a three in one deal."

Beverly's brows knit together as she thinks about it. Then, "Most likely. I think it would be hard to do, though. I don't think fashion is one of my strong suits, and... I dunno, the makeup deal probably won't last too much longer and I doubt the fashion thing would, either."

Audra snorts with a roll of her eyes. "You are one of the most talented women I know with all of this," she tells Beverly, hands moving under the cape. "I've never been disappointed once, and the make up you do for the prom and special events are fucking fantastic! Your fashion sense is off the charts when you dress up; hell, even when you dress down. You have the potential to do all three, Bev. What's holding you back?" The question is quieter, filled with so much care; and her other words are full of sincerity. It has Beverly faltering her movements.

She licks her lips. She knows what's holding her back. "Tom," she says simply as she quickly goes back to doing Audra's hair, and she hopes it doesn't sound as bitter and fearful as it felt. "He's always been supportive of this - of the hair salon - but he's always...apprehensive about the makeup. And then about the fashion, he's just so against it."

"What do men know?" Audra asks. "And what does Tom even do?"

"He works at some small business. A financial analysis."

"He's just jealous. Scared, maybe, of you turning out better than him. God, men are so...ugh."

"There are a few decent ones out there," Beverly says, thinking of her friends. A large smile tugs at her lips. "My best friends. Richie's annoying as all fuck, but he's genuinely caring when he wants to be. Usually to his boyfriend, and me. We grew up together, so we're basically siblings. Then there's Eddie - Richie's boyfriend. A damn firecracker. A bit crazy. A mother hen, at times. Oh, and Mike! He's probably the most genuine, nice guy I know. He's over six feet, and Rich calls him a gentle giant. I'd call him the perfect guy, but he loves pranks, and he and Rich get into a prank war three times a year and they drag Eddie and me into them too. They're not perfect - not by a long shot - but they're the most decent guys I know. I doubt there's any 'perfect guy'."

Audra's quiet for a moment. "I'm surprised you didn't put Tom in there."

Beverly's jaw clenches for a moment. "Why would I put my ex in a list of good men?" She says in a casual way and hopes that it doesn't cause dramatic reactions from those around her. It does. Her regulars and few employees know of her and Tom. It was clear no one likes him, and Bev knows that maybe they figured out something had been wrong about the relationship, but she always painted Tom as a good guy to others despite the bruises littering her skin and his harsh words towards her even in public. Audra's jaw drops and Beverly stops snipping the hair and moved her arms to her sides just in time as Audra turned around, and she sets the scissors on a flat surface. A gasp is heard across the building, and Bev turns her head to see her good friend and employee, Kay McCall, standing a few chairs away, getting ready for another customer.

"Did he dump you?" Audra asks, almost sounding hesitant to do so.

Beverly looked back at her, and then at Kay who is walking over at the speed of lightning. "I... Actually, I dumped him," she says slowly. "This morning." It almost feels wrong telling the girls first instead of her best friends first, but there's a sense of relief that comes with telling someone and Bev figures that the boys won't mind.

Kay squeals and pulls Beverly into a tight hug. "Oh, my god, I thought you'd never get rid of that ass!" She pauses and pulls away, keeping her hands on her friend's shoulders. A serious yet excited expression sits on her face. "I know it's no surprise I don't like him, okay, I'm sorry. I know you loved him too but, babe, that boy was a total whack job! He gave me the fucking creeps!"

Audra is nodding along. "I wanted to say something, but we're not that close, y'know? And I didn't wanna piss you off accidentally."

"I honestly thought you were gonna end up marrying him. It was, like, my worst fear the longest time," Kay admits. Her hands finally leave Beverly's shoulders.

"Mine too." Beverly takes in their looks, and she wants to take the words back but it's too late. She doesn't want to tell them what he's done, it's too early and too fresh to tell someone out right, so she doesn't. "I stopped loving him, is all," she lies. But, it's not really a lie. "I felt obligated to stay in the relationship, I guess. Probably a bit scared, too, because we've been together since the end of my second year of college. I finally just ripped off the band-aid this morning."

Audra smiles softly. "Long ones are the hardest to end."

Kay nods in agreement. "Yeah. Hey, I've got a pullout at my apartment if you need a place to stay. I know you two were living together."

Beverly shakes her head. "Thanks, but I'm good for now. Rich and Eddie are out of the city for a month, and I'm already visiting there to dog sit. Might as well house sit, too. I'll call if I decide to take you up on that offer, though."

They share a few more words - not much at all, though - and soon Beverly is back to Audra's hair, and Kay is walking up front where a new customer is stepping in. She licks lips, feeling how chapped they are, and her nose scrunches the slightest bit as her tongue went over the cut. She had forgotten about it, and at remembering it she is grateful that neither Audra nor Kay asked about it. She doesn't know what she would have come up with if they did.

+++

The rest of the day consisted of Beverly having a few more customers, going to the grocery store because she knows for a fact that Richie and Eddie have zero food at their house, walking around fearful, and finally getting to the Tozier-Kaspbrak residence with the sun completely gone because apparently shopping and driving takes a lot longer than she realizes. She keeps the doors locked and lets Sid roam around as she puts up the groceries - she was right, they had no food - and later feeds Sid, noticing that the limp she thought she saw that morning is, in fact, a limp and it looked the slightest bit worse. After dinner, and after letting Sid outside for a few minutes to use the bathroom, Beverly's phone starts to ring and ring, and ping continuously, messages and missed calls from Tom keeping the device occupied. She waits, but the messages and calls come in nearly every second. Every minute. She wants to call someone - Mike, Richie, Kay, Eddie, anyone but Tom - but she can't pick up the phone, because that means looking at her messages. She knows it's not going to happen, but that doesn't stop her from feeling as if even if she touched the phone Tom would find out where she is like some telepathic demon from Hell.

It's not until she's hearing her own wheezing when it dawns on her that she's having a panic attack over the stupid fucking calls and text messages, curling in on herself against one of the kitchen walls, cheeks wet and make up smudged because of her tears. She hasn't had one in years, not since her first year in college, which is a surprise in and of itself given who she's been dating. Her mind struggles to grasp at what to do - its been eight years - but once she remembers, Beverly does her best to do it. It takes time, much longer than she would like to admit, but she soon calms down. Her hands stop shaking, and her cheeks are starting to dry, and her phone is silent too. Sid is laying a few feet away, staring. Worried. Beverly sniffles. Shakily, she stands and the young dog moves her head up in a flash, eyes trained on Beverly as the young woman moves across the kitchen. Sid then quickly gets up and limps to where she's right beside Bev.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she unlocks her phone to avoid looking at the missed calls and unread texts, and it makes her want to throw up as she does it but she blocks Tom's number, erases the messages and makes the missed calls notifications go away.

Then, she's going to bed in the guest room, exhausted. Sid is at her feet in the bed when she's supposed to be in her bog bed and kennel, but Beverly doesn't care. Rich and Eddie don't have to know, anyway. She's too relaxed. She feels too safe with Sid there. So, she lets Sid stay there, eventually falling asleep.

+++

It's halfway through the morning when Beverly notices Sid is heavily favoring her right front leg as she plays without a care in the world in the backyard. It concerns her, worries her, so she calls the nearest vet and places an appointment at two - and coincidentally, it's the one Mike works at. She doesn't call her two best friends yet, not wanting to worry them in case nothing is wrong. She doesn't go into work. She doesn't want to, simply put, so she doesn't. She's the owner, anyway, and goes in whenever she pleases; the fact that she had no one specifically ask for her on that day was another reason Bev doesn't go in, and she knows the employees can handle themselves. She takes a nice, warm, long shower and brings Sid inside around noon. Then she has lunch, and as the time for Sid's appointment rolls closer, she changes into Nike shorts and the same t-shirt she wore the day before, uncaring of who saw her in it yesterday. She's still emotionally drained from the night before, so it surprises her that she didn't walk out in sweats and a hole-y shirt.

The drive to the vet is fine. Sid stays in the backseat, constantly moving into different positions and standing to look between the front seats, even though her front leg is probably hurting her. Upon reaching the vet clinic, the hope of seeing Mike rises, and she gets out with Sid quickly, locking her car, and then goes inside. It’s not long at all until she’s sitting in one of the back rooms waiting for someone to come in and check on Sid. Not too soon later, the door is opening and she’s hoping it’s Mike, but it’s not. She tries not to look too disappointed, though it wasn’t hard at all given as the guy who walks in is attractive.

She blinks, taking in the dirty blond hair and soft brown eyes; he’s tall, too – about Richie’s or Mike’s height – and at first Beverly, admittedly, tensed up. Here’s a guy who she doesn’t know and therefore doesn’t trust, and her first thought is that he’s going to say something her. To try and flirt. To seem as if he’s this perfect dude trying to win Bev over for a hookup. But then he’s giving her a warm smile before crouching down to Sid who’s jumping in excited at seeing a new person, and she suddenly feels bad for jumping to conclusions.

“Hey,” the guy laughs as Sid licks his face. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you? Who’ve we got here today?” He’s then looking at Bev and standing up.

Beverly twists the leash in her hands. “That’s Sid. Um, she has a bad limp, and I just got worried.”

He nods and looks back down to the dog, who’s now laying on the floor at his feet, panting as she stares up at him. “Yeah, I noticed it when I walked in. It’s pretty significant. If you don’t mind, I’ll take her to weigh her out there. We’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine, do what you gotta do,” she says. “I’ve never been to a vet before. Sid’s not mine, she’s my friend’s. I’m just dog sitting while he and his boyfriend are outta town. I figured I should bring her myself in case something is actually seriously wrong.”

He smiles as he slips the vet’s leash on Sid with ease, and unclasps the other off of her collar. “That's nice of you to do.”

“I'd do anything for my friends.” Beverly sets the leash in her lap, giving a tiny smile. “She pulls a lot, by the way. Just a warning,” she tells the man.

He nods. “It’s fine. Be back in a jiff,” he tells her and then he’s out of the room with Sid, the dog excitedly walking and pulling. Beverly chuckles and leans back in the chair, blue eyes looking at the framed picture on the wall. It’s an illustration of different types of dogs and their names and where they originally came from.

She’s about to stand up to get a better look when the guy and Sid come back in. He walks the dog to her and lets her reattach the leash before removing the vet’s leash. “How much does she weigh?” Bev asks, curious, frowning at how Sid is favoring her leg.

“Thirty pounds,” he says.

“That’s good, right?”

He nods. “Yes, it is. Female labs usually get up to between twenty-five and thirty-two.”

Bev smiles and pets Sid. “Well, you’re a healthy girl, huh? Other than your leg.” She looks up at the guy, and he’s already looking at her with an expression she can’t read. Its similar to the one Richie gives her once in a while when he’s in a particularly loving mood towards everyone; but there’s something about this guy’s expression that’s so different from it at the same time. There’s no lust, no want, no desire. Almost admiration, if she has to label it. It’s a look she’s not used to, to say the least, and she has to look away and back down to Sid. “So, are you going to check her out, or is there some big shot vet doc that has to come in?” She asks. “Dr. Doolittle, maybe?”

He seems to jolt back into reality at the question, and if Bev were to look up she would see his cheeks reddening. “Huh- oh, yeah. I’m just- just an intern here, trying to get my foot in the door before I finally become a veterinarian myself. No Dr. Doolittle, though.”

Beverly chuckles and looks up. “Shame. I’d pay some real money to have Dr. Doolittle here.”

He smiles, still blushing a little. “I’d pay to be Dr. Doolittle.” Then, “I’ll go get the ‘big shot vet doc’.” He uses air quotes as he uses the words Beverly had said moments before, chuckling lightly as she rolls her eyes with no malice behind the action.

“Alright. Oh- hey, uh,” she hesitates, “I’m Beverly Marsh, by the way. I should’ve introduced myself sooner. Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m Ben Hanscom. I’ll be right back with the doctor, Beverly.”

As he leaves, she can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed about just introducing herself like that so abruptly, but she pushes the feeling away. A few minutes later, the guy – Ben, and she can’t help but think how well the name suits him – walks in with the doctor. They check on Sid, have her walk around for a few seconds, and then the doctor is explaining that nothing seems wrong.

“There isn’t any swelling or cuts or broken bones, so it’s probably just a bad sprain. Nothing too bad, thankfully, but you’ll have to restrict how much she plays for it to get better. I’ll prescribe her some pain medication that you’ll give her once a day for seven days. If it’s not better by this day next week, I suggest bringing her back. It’ll most likely require surgery if that’s the case.”

Beverly nods along to the words and takes the information in, planning on calling Richie once she leaves to explain everything to him. After that, both the doctor and Ben are leaving again, Ben coming back five minutes later with a small, blue pill bottle.

“Give her one forth of these everyday, and it should help,” Ben tells her as he hands the bottle to her. “I hope she gets better. She’s such a sweetheart.”

Beverly stands and holds the pill bottle with one hand, and Sid’s leash with the other. “Me too. Thank you, by the way.”

He sheepishly smiles and shrugs. “I barely did a thing. It’s all the doctor.”

She chuckles. “Well, thank her too for me. Hey, do you know a Mike Hanlon?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah, he’s another intern for one of the other doctors here.”

“Is he here?”

“Yeah. But he’s helping with a surgery on a sick cat. Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s one of my friends. I was expecting to see him, is all.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Beverly frowns but then smiles, shaking her head as she gets ready to leave. “You’re not a disappointment, Ben. You seem like a cool guy, and it was nice meeting you.”

He’s then giving her another warm smile, and he’s blushing again. “Thanks. It was nice to meet you, too. And Sid, of course.”

Beverly then says a bye with a smile of her own and she walks out of the back room, and to the front. She pays, not minding having to, and walks out with her phone pressed to ear as she calls Richie, explaining what’s wrong and what’s happening with Sid as she drives home. She doesn’t mention the breakup or Ben just yet. She doesn’t want to think about either too much, and telling her best friend about both would require just that. So, she doesn’t. Richie doesn’t ask, either, because one: he avoids the topic of Tom as well because it just puts him in a pissy mood for the rest of the day and he can’t be in a pissy mood during a gig, and two: Beverly have no indication about the guy who helped out at the vet clinic being attractive in any way.

She sighs as she falls into the couch after giving Sid the correct amount of medicine, turning on the TV, pushing any thoughts about men out of her mind as she watches a rerun of an old 90s show.

[spoileralertitsme]

Sneak Peak of Chapter 30

Blissful darkness. Then blinding light.

Barbara winced, burying her face in her arms to hide from the glaring fluorescents. Her eyes ached, and her muscles shivered as she pulled herself into an upright fetal position. Knees pressed to her forehead, she gasped shallow breaths into her lungs.

Three hours of sleep.

It was less than the night before, but definitely more than the night before that.

They loved keeping her on her toes—alternating between peaceful, uninterrupted nights, and flipping the lights on or blaring alarms every thirty minutes or so during others. Just one more way to keep her weak, make her vulnerable, get inside her head.

Barbara hunched her shoulders. A whimper leaked through her pursed lips.

Then, when she felt a little more ready to face the light, she tipped her head up and pressed the back of her skull against the cold concrete wall of her cell. The sensation was almost more painful than the glaring brightness behind her eyelids.

Don’t know how much longer…how long I can…

Barbara swallowed dryly, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.  

Okay…okay…focus…fine…my name is Barb—my name—Barbara—I am twenty-four years old and five-foot-eight-inches…I am the Batgi—no, I’m Ora—Batman? Batwoman…it…has been roughly three and a half weeks…that long…the date is…the date—

She stumbled over that step. In this place, in this little dungeon underneath Harbor House, time didn’t seem real. Without any hint of natural light, and without the slightest glimpse at a clockface, Barbara had no way of knowing what time or even day it was.

And yet…

There was a familiar ache in her chest. Her nerves sang with panic, and she could feel goosebumps pricking at her skin (though that might have been the work of the chilly temperature in her little stone box).  The wave of anxiety was drifting just below the surface—a riptide ready to tear her away from the safe shores of her own sanity if she chose to venture in too close.

So. Barbara knew the date; she could feel it in her bones.

But she steered her thoughts towards a more pressing concern.

She wet her lips with a papery tongue, and spoke with a rusty voice.

“Come to gloat?”

At first, there was no reply. The Talon crouched in the corner watched her through the honey-colored lenses and blinked lazily. He seemed settled—could be that he’d been watching her for hours, now. Waiting. And the fact that she’d only just now noticed him was another barb in Barbara’s already prickly predicament. Bruce would’ve had her head for being so blind. So unguarded. So…off her game.

Barbara’s fingers curled into fists, settled in her lap. No other part of her would move.

Eventually, the Talon decided that their little staring contest had gotten old, and said, “No. Quite the opposite, B-girl. I’m here to warn you.”

“Don’t you %*&$>^& call me that, Cal.” Her voice was drained of all its venom, so the warning fell flat. Barbara’s head lolled, sliding down the wall to land on her shoulder. The bare skin against her cheek offered a small scrap of grounding. “And—warn me ‘bout what? That a bird cult’s gonna stuff me in a box and make me run rat races every day until I die and die and die and die…”

A deranged giggle burst out of her, and she pressed the back of her fist to her lips.

Cal’s eyes twitched a little wider behind his mask. “I see the anesthetic is still lingering in your system.”

She only wished she could blame the outburst on the anesthetic. But she’d been dosed and drugged too many times before—enough to know that her rising hysteria had nothing to do with the amount of narcotics in her system.

“How long’ve you been sitting there, anyway?” Barbara demanded, letting her hand fall back down. She watched the Talon through lidded eyes. Clicked her tongue. “Watching people while they sleep. That’s a whole new level of creep, even for you.”

“I have been waiting for you to wake. The procedure went well, although Gordon accidentally overdosed you.” His clawed fingers drummed anxiously against his knee. “You lost two days. We feared you might not make it.”

“So?” she snorted. Smiled into her shoulder. “You know something, Cal…sometimes I wish I wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t…” His eyes narrowed. “I would not let that happen. You are far too valuable to our cause. You must live to fulfill your Grandmaster’s wishes.”

“%*&< you,” Barbara retorted, curling in on herself just a little tighter.

“I suppose I deserve that.”

One of her eyebrows quirked up as she dared a glance at the Talon. He reached up slowly, and slid the mask off his head with one fluid stroke. As he brushed his shaggy mane out of his eyes, Cal let out a shaky sigh.

“No matter,” he continued. He met her eyes and frowned deeply. “Onto more pressing concerns—you must abandon your delusion, Barbara.”

She huffed, digging her fingernails into her skin. “Oh, I’m the deluded one? Are you serious?”

“As the grave,” he retorted, sounded like he sincerely meant it. His glower darkened into something fierce. “You are holding onto the belief that someone will come for you. Your lover, siblings, butler, comrades—someone. But you are mistaken.”

Barbara looked up, letting her hand fall away from her face as she shot her former friend a death-glare. Deluded? To think that the best detectives and heroes the Earth had to offer would find a way to dig her out of this #$%%-hole? Please. The phrasing of the code message Slade had so cavalierly botched was the only proof she needed.

“I know my family, Cal. They’re already on their way.”

He watched her face carefully for a few seconds, and then, when he didn’t see a crack in her resolve, said, “Your faith in them is…admirable. But the Court has taken precautions. The Light has taken even more—”

“What the #$%% is the Light’s game, anyway? What do they want with—”

“Time is short, so shut your mouth,” Cal snarled. He leaned forward on his haunches, his already imposing posture heightened by the gargoyle-like slope of his shoulders, with the matching sneer to boot. “I know you think that our incorrect answer to the Gray Son’s coded message spells your salvation. But we are monitoring his activity, as well as the activity of your entire ‘family’—” He spat the word out like it was bitter on his tongue, and carried a regretful aftertaste. “—and by the time they pinpoint the location of our stronghold? By the time they muster the numbers to do battle with our forces? We will already have everything we need. We will have won, Barbara.”

Her eyes narrowed sharply as she growled, “Wanna bet?”

“You are hardly in a position to bet anything,” Calvin reminded her with an equally poisonous leer. “Which brings us back to my original business here—a warning.”

“A warning that I’d better kill you first when my family busts me out?” Tears pricked unexpectedly in her eyes as she spat, “Consider it done, old chum.”

The Talon continued on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Take a good look at your surroundings, Barbara. You are sitting right in the belly of an impenetrable fortress. And you have been for almost a full month, now.”

Barbara didn’t need to inspect her cell too closely. She’d practically memorized the cracks in the stone and the spots of mildew in the corners these last few weeks. But she could still see Calvin’s point—she’d been here long enough to know every Talon and Courtier by name. She knew the sweep schedule for patrolling security, she’d nearly put every twist and turn in the Maze to vivid memory…#$%%, Barbara even knew the &*#% rhyme by heart, now.

Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time…

But the watching had been mutual. She only wished that she had the strength to do anything about it.

“Did you know that the average Talon is only able to hold out for three to four days during the first stages of the conversion process, Barbara?” Calvin straightened his spine and fixed her with a cold glare. “You’ve lasted longer than any of us. Far longer than any member of the Court would have expected.”

“Do I smell a compliment?” she muttered dryly.

“Hardly. As I said, time is short.”

Barbara raised her chin and pulled herself a little further up the wall. She could look at the Talon full-on, now, and let him feel the full wrath of her scowl. “Meaning that all I have to do is wait you out. Sooner or later, Cal, they will come back. That’s what families do.”

At that, silence soaked into the room. Her words hung in the air, ringing in both their ears. She could see the effect it had on her old friend, though it was subtle. A sudden crack in the stiff mask of his expression. The slightest twitch of his jaw, the small flinch at her tone. Barbara could feel her own jaw slacken at the sight; seeing just a glimpse—a sign—that there was still some shred of Calvin Rose’s soul underneath the monstrous exterior.

For a moment, the glassy sheen in his eyes seemed to clear. His mouth fell open.

“B-girl,” he whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t—”

But he stiffened, head cocking bird-like to the side as a small groan leaked past his lips. When he looked back up at her, the savage gleam in his gaze was back.

“Time is short,” he repeated meaningfully, “And so every day you hold onto this delusion—every day you drag your heels and continue to fight—is just another day they sink their claws deeper into you, Barbara. You stall nothing. The only thing you manage to do by fighting them is ensure that when you fall—and you will fall—you may not be able to pick up the broken pieces again.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been tortured, Cal.”

The Talon leaned forward, insistent. “You have to surrender, Barbara. Kneel at the Grandmaster’s feet and pledge your loyalty. Perhaps then, when they see that they’ve broken you, they can be persuaded to--”

Her fear ebbed a little bit, replaced by a growing twinge of distaste. Barbara could feel her lips curling into a grimace, the thought of bending to Vanaver a bracing reminder. She felt her spine straighten a little bit as her mind returned to her family.

They were coming.

She was sure of it.

“I want you to listen carefully, Rose,” Barbara said softly, slowly, iron lacing her words and bracing them up. As she leaned forward, her grimace turned to a sneer. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t even care how much of me goes down the drain. If my family finds me, and all that’s left is a brainless, catatonic zombie, so #*&!$^% be it. But I will never get down on my knees and beg like a dog for Vanaver, do you understand?”

His eyes flashed dangerously, the golden irises glowing for a moment before the surge subsided. He sighed heavily, and let his bangs fall back over his face as he bowed his head.

“I strongly suggest,” he growled, “That you learn to beg, sit, and roll over. That is my warning. I took the time out of my rounds, disrupted the security feed, and came to give it to you before your morning trials, because I…”

His throat bobbed, like he was trying to swallow a brick.

And when the Talon looked up, his gaze was mournful. That crack in composure was back, and it allowed a few trickles of the real Calvin Rose to stream through one last time.

“I care for you, little sister,” he growled, eyes squeezing shut as he clenched his jaw. The words seemed almost agonizing. His clawed fingers dug into the stone beneath him, seeking purchase. “I am…I…am…terrified for you.”

Barbara sat up straight as a pained wheeze leaked past Cal’s lips. A whimper followed quickly behind.

She reached out, fingers grasping at his wrist. “…Cal?”

Panting, he gasped, “I love you.”

Like a blade had pierced through his chest, he let out a sharp cry. His body slumped forward, hands slapping against the ground to steady himself, and one quick gasp seemed to re-inflate his lungs.

“Cal!”

His head shot up, hair flying away from his eyes, and Barbara could see them glowing a cold, quiet gold. The black veins swimming beneath his pale skin seemed darker, one bulging in his neck and forehead as he clenched his jaw impossibly tight and swallowed.

“Remove your hand or I will cut it off.”

The ice in his tone washed over her, and Barbara shrunk back, eyes wide. The ridges of her spine clicked against the wall as she pressed herself back, cowering away from the Talon as he rose to his feet, claws fully extended and his eyes threatening murder.

“I have given you your chance,” he said dully. “And you have chosen not to take it. But you may mark my words that by the end of this day, that choice will be taken from you along with everything else. Enjoy your trials, Barbara.”

He turned to leave her, and Barbara sat up, glowering. “Calvin—”

“You will address me as Talon Rose.” His head pivoted, metallic eyes flashing over his shoulder. “’Calvin’ is dead, and if you forget that fact again, I will tear out your tongue.”

Barbara’s mouth clamped shut.

“Farewell,” Talon Rose snapped as the door slid open for him. He stepped out deftly, and the stone panel rumbled and clicked back into place, leaving Barbara in solitude.

She let out a staggered breath. 

Then, a panel mounted on the opposite wall blinked to life, showing a flashing set of digits, counting down, down, down. One quick glance at the screen told her she had two minutes.

Barbara braced a hand against the wall as she dragged herself into an upright position. Straightened. Stretched. Rolled out her shoulders and her neck and glared at the grout between the stones on the floor. Every single movement made her nerves wail, but she knew better than to stay seated, by now.

So, with a weary sigh, she threw herself into the process of stretching. The familiar burn of her muscles as they slowly warmed was a steadying reminder—this was just another training exercise. Just another run. Just another spar set. Nothing to worry about.

She pulled one arm across her chest, holding it tight with her other elbow. The numbers on the screen ticked to ten, nine, eight…

Okay, guys, she thought, Whenever you’re ready to move, I’ll be…

Barbara’s eyes fixed on the screen as it hit zero, and the wall rumbled away, revealing a starkly white corridor beyond.

Her throat bobbed.

Here.

[emilx311]

Tobirama had been blind since birth, he dealt with it, even when his lack of sight led to shenanigans. Madara, on the other hand, was very confused by Tobirama's seemingly random habits. Or, four times Madara really should have figured out Tobirama was blind and the one time it actually came up. 

My first MadaTobi week story! I'm hoping to do 4 of these in total. This is for the blind Tobirama prompt

read on AO3 or under the cut, also if you enjoyed this please buy me a coffee

Senju Tobirama had a secret. It was not one he really cared about, but his father had and keeping it had become a habit over the years. You see, Tobirama was blind. He had been born that way, with his eyes closed and his senses open. Hashirama and Touka knew, as did a few of the older Senju, but even within his clan most did not. Tobirama had never understood why others seemed to make such a big deal about it. He had never had it so he could not miss it and he had found ways to compensate for anything his blindness may have prevented him from otherwise doing. He was a capable and deadly warrior so he really did not see why anyone would care. This was why he had never thought to tell the Uchiha of his condition even after pulling his blow on Izuna to create peace and helping their brothers to build the village of their dreams.

One of the first things Madara noticed about Tobirama after peace was established was how messy his handwriting was. This seemed odd since anyone who spent any time around the brothers could see that Tobirama was the organized, logical one. He was the one who came up with the systems, the one who kept his brother in check and on task. And yet, while Hashirama had the beautiful handwriting befitting of a clan head's son Tobirama's was chicken scratch. It was messy and slanted and almost impossible to read. The albino seemed aware of this, had even hired someone specifically to be his scribe, but never did anything to fix it. Madara wanted to say something about it, but none of the Senju reacted or seemed to think it strange and he didn't want to make it seem as if the Uchiha were criticizing their heir. Izuna also thought it odd, but when he asked his brother he was unable to offer a possible explanation even after all the years he had spent fighting and studying the other.

Madara was watching Tobirama again, Hashirama noticed. He’d been doing that quite a bit since Tobirama had pulled his blow to Izuna, but this time seemed different. Instead of being focused on his brother himself the Uchiha was squinting at the book held in his brother’s hands. It was a braille book because Tobirama had just gotten back from a mission the night before and his chakra was still low, but otherwise Hashirama saw nothing out of the ordinary about it.

“Something wrong? You seem distracted” Hashirama asked his friend off-handily. Madara hummed, still focussed on Tobirama.

“Not really just…what is your brother holding?” Madara asks in return. Hashirama gives him a confused look.

“What? It’s a book” he replies. Madara blinks before looking at him quizzically.

“But there’s no words on it and he’s not using it to write in” Madara points out.

“Of course not, it’s written in braille. He always reads that way when he’s tired or low on chakra, it’s more relaxing for him” Hashirama explains. He’s surprised that Madara has never seen his brother read braille before, he does it often enough. Tobirama really did find it more relaxing since he didn’t have to focus his chakra when he read this way. It was almost as good as swimming for de-stressing him.

“Oh” was all Madara could say to that and Hashirama wandered away happily with no idea he’d left his friend even more confused than before.

Madara blinked. He blinked again. The sight in front of him didn’t disappear or change. He activated his Sharingan just to be sure. Everything stayed the same.  So, he was not hallucinating or caught in a genjutsu, so what he was seeing had to be real. He took a moment to wrestle with that idea, but he just couldn’t accept it. There had to be an illusion of some sort, had to be! There was absolutely no way in the world Senju Tobirama would be dressed in that otherwise. No way!

He had tracked the Senju down to one of the more secluded training grounds with a few questions about paperwork only to find the sight in front of him. At first glance everything seemed normal enough. Tobirama was flowing through a series of katas, moving fluidly but slowly from one pose to the next with precision and control. He was covered in a light sheen of sweat that made his clothes cling in delicious ways. That was not the problem (or at least not the one Madara was focussed on, the one that is preventing him from appreciating this view). The clothes themselves were even, on a basic level, appropriate training wear. A pair of flexible capris and a teeshirt with a V-neck plus the mesh he wore underneath. No, the problem, the huge mind-bending, reality-warping problem was the colour of the clothes.

The pants weren’t too bad he supposed, being a darkish shade of green unfortunately reminiscent of vomit. They, at least, had the redeeming quality of providing some camouflage with the forest. The shirt did not. The shirt had nothing redeeming about it what so ever. It was a horrendous shade of neon pink (Madara wasn’t sure where the younger man had even been able to find it). The colour would have been bad enough on its own, but when contrasted with the pants was somehow even worse. ‘And’ he noticed distantly, ‘neither of them suits his colouring very well anyway’.

“What the fuck Senju?” He demanded once his brain had rebooted enough for his mouth to work. The Senju in question heaved a sigh and turned to give the Uchiha his full attention in the hope it would get him to leave sooner.

“What Uchiha? It’s called training. I would have thought you aware of the concept, or are you so above us mere mortals that you don’t need it?” He questioned, annoyed at being interrupted.

“What, no! Not the training, of course I know what that is! I meant the clothes! What the hell are you wearing?!?” Madara screeched, waving his hands towards the offending items. Tobirama blinked looking very confused.

“I’m wearing clothes as you yourself just pointed out. I fail to see the issue with it. They are hardly immodest and provide the lightness and flexibility I require to optimize my training” he responded blandly.

“You-immodest, no, what?” The Uchiha sputtered. Tobirama gave him a judgemental ‘get to the point’ look. “It’s not the type of clothes that’s the problem! It’s the colour! Are you trying to make all of Konoha go blind???” He questioned. Tobirama glanced down self-consciously.

“Is it really that bad?” He asked. “I mean, I know they’re not the best, which is why they were in my training clothes pile in the first place, but I didn’t think it was-”

“They are” Madara cut him off. “Please, for the sake of us all, burn them. Or, at least the shirt. No one deserves to see that, not even you.” Then, because he has always been far too curious for his own good, he asked, “where did you even buy that, and why?”

“No idea” Tobirama replied with a shrug. “Brother gave it to me, likely as a joke so he could laugh when I grabbed and worse it out by accident”. Madara paused for a moment at that, but it did sound like something Hashirama would do. He wasn’t sure how Tobirama could miss the colour (his eyes!) but then again, he wasn’t always the best in the mornings himself.

“Humph, just do the world a favor and burn it. The idiot’s likely already forgotten about giving it to you” he advised again, only to start sputtering, again, as Tobirama pulled the shirt off right in front of him. “What are you doing now???” He shrieked, a blush forming at the sight of the other’s pale, sculpted chest highlighted by the darkness of the mesh.

“I’m taking your advice. If it’s really that bad I may was well take the chance to get rid of it now. Uchiha are rather well known for their abilities with fire” Tobirama pointed out. Madara preened once he understood what Tobirama was suggesting. Burn the abomination? Yes, he could do that! He grabbed it out of the other’s hands, laid it on the ground and made a show of setting it ablaze. Once the offensive object was nothing but ash, Tobirama used a water jutsu to put the fire out.

“Thanks, Uchiha” Tobirama said. Madara nodded in acknowledgement and wandered off, please with his morning’s work. It was only after he was halfway back to the tower that he remembered why he’d been looking for Tobirama in the first place. He thought for a moment before shrugging. The paperwork could wait, what he’d ended up doing had been far more important. Plus, who wouldn’t have gotten distracted at such a sight? He didn’t know how the Senju had been able to stand having it on! (Meanwhile, Tobirama made a note to himself to go over all his clothes with Mito later-he’d had no idea any of them were that bad!)

Tobirama was beyond tired. He’d just gotten back from a mission (not that bad, but still tiring) and had been planning on making his report and then returning home and passing out. Instead, he had walked into the tower only to be greeted by terrified staff, screams, and flames. He pinched his nose, sighed, and set himself to sorting out the chaos.

He was unsurprised to find Madara and Hashirama at the epicenter of the mess. Stopping to shoot a glare at Izuna and Touka who were standing off to the side snickering, he called up a shave of water and dumped it on the two strongest shinobi of their age. Predictably, the screaming then turned into confused sputtering. Tobirama despaired for the village sometimes, and was also vaguely amazed that there even was one with these idiots in charge.

“Tobi! You’re back!” Hashirama cheered once he noticed his brother. He forgot about Madara as he eagerly launched himself forward to hug Tobirama, who neatly dodged him.

“Yes, I am, no, I am not hugging you while you are all wet” Tobirama told him. Hashirama laughed sheepishly. By that point Madara had managed to wrestle his wet hair back away from his face and had switched his glare from Hashirama to Tobirama.

“Oh, you survived, joy” he muttered.  The dunking had not improved his already bad mood (Izuna considered it Karma for the number of times Madara had dumped him in the koi pond). Tobirama snorted.

“Yes, I survived, only to come back to this. I thought I specifically told you that I expected the village to be standing, intact, and not on fire when I got back!” Tobirama gave all four of them a pointed look, and they did have the dignity to look a bit abashed, or well, most of them did.

“It is!” Madara protested.

“This building is part of the village and there was definitely fire just a moment ago” he pointed out drily. Madara pinked slightly and looked away from the albino. Now that he had successfully cowed them Tobirama set about finding out what had happened and actually fixing the problems (setting them on fire is not a solution Madara!).

By the time he’d finished with that and finally made his report it was well into the night, and he was, as previously mentioned, very tired and also a bit low on chakra. Because of this, he was not sensing at anywhere near his usual level. This, he maintained, was why he ran into the door. Taking a step backwards and rubbing his head he glared at the offending piece of wood (ignoring how his brother and Madara were snickering). Grumbling, he reached his hand out to grab the nob and pish the door open. It didn’t move. Puzzled, he tried a bit harder, but there were still no results. Madara had, by now, stopped laughing and was starting to look a bit worried. Fed up, Tobirama switched tactics and gave the door a hard yank. This time, it did open-flying backwards with enough force to knock into his head, again. Tobirama cursed, he’d never been fond of doors, while Madara rushed over.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” The Uchiha asked, fluttering around him with actual concern. He glared at Hashirama who was still snickering.

“I’m fine” Tobirama waved him off, “just tired”. Madara made a noise of contempt and began feeling the other’s head for bumps himself.

“It’ll be fine, this is hardly the first time he’s done this” Hashirama reassured him, voice still infused with mirth. “He always has trouble with doors when he gets tired. It’s why he has an open layout and shoji doors in his house, and why he uses windows so often” Hashirama explains, which…kind of makes sense. (Madara had wondered about the window thing. When they were first building Konoha, Hashirama had insisted that all the central buildings needed to have large numbers of windows and then that those windows had to be able to open from the outside. The Senju, when they heard, had all nodded with tired and resigned looks. The Uchiha had been so confused until the buildings actually started seeing use and Senju Tobirama started sliding through them. More than one of his clansmen had had minor panic attacks upon turning around to find Tobirama suddenly there, standing calmly by the window, but they’d gotten used to it quickly enough. It had become a secret pleasure for Madara to watch the albino twist his lean body as he entered or exited by his chosen route.)

“He even swore off door entirely for a few months as a child, would only ever use the windows. Broke a few bursting in when they were locked before everyone finally just gave up and started keeping them open” Hashirama adds. Tobirama looks unrepentant and even seems to smirk at the memory. “Still, this is usually a sign that he really needs sleep, and I still have some things to finish up here so would you mind making sure he gets home safe for me?” Hashirama shot his best pleading face ad his friend who pretended to be annoyed as he agreed (neither Senju was fooled). Once they were out of Hashirama’s sight Madara took the opportunity to wrap an arm around Tobirama, who rolled his eyes.

“I know I’m tired, but I can still walk by myself” he mentioned sarcastically. Madara shrugged.

“Maybe I want an excuse to touch my boyfriend who’s been away” Madara said, smiling with pleasure at the light blush his words cause. Their relationship is still new, having only begun a few weeks ago, but it was good. They would probably get around to telling people soon (neither wanted to deal with their brothers’ inevitable dramatics), but for now they were still keeping it quiet.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier” Madara adds, cringing as he remembered his first words to the newly returned Tobirama. “I am very happy that you’re still alive and back safe”. The Senju leaned into him a little in reassurance.

“I know, it’s fine. You were obviously upset, and my welcome to you was not the warmest either” he told the other. Madara just smiled at him, amazed as he always was that this man was his. They stopped once they reached Tobirama’s home and Madara pressed a light kiss to his lips before letting go and stepping back.

“Think you can manage the door?” He couldn’t resist teasing. Tobirama huffed, but there was a small smile playing around his lips. He walked up to the door and opened it with a big flourish, just to prove he could. Madara laughed.

“Good night then dear heart, sleep well” he told Tobirama who waved a hand in acknowledgement and farewell as he stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. Someday, Madara hoped, they would share a house with plenty of open space and windows and shoji doors where they could retire for the evening together.

It was months after that when things finally came to a head. If he was being honest, Tobirama would have to admit that he’d actually forgotten that Madara didn’t know he was blind. His partner was so good about accommodating him and his quirks that the whole thing had rather slipped his mind. Because of this he was genuinely surprised when it actually came out.

Their relationship was going well and they’d finally decided it was time to tell their families (well, they were both pretty sire Mito already knew, but they would tell everyone else). Since both were aware of their brothers’ personalities and tendency to over react (especially Hashirama) they had decided to do this in private and get it over with all at once. So, they had arranged for a family dinner at Tobirama’s and had invited Hashirama, Mito, Touka, and Izuna. They both knew that once the shock passed their family would be happy for them, but Madara was finding that knowing this did nothing to lessen the nerves churning inside him which was making him twitchy and irritable. Tobirama, Izuna, and Hashirama were the most important people in his life and he had no idea what he’d do if he ever lost one of them, but it would not be pretty. Because of this, he was fluttering around trying to make everything as perfect as possible.

“Why do you only have one vase? And why is it so deeply buried?!” He demanded between muffled curses as he finally unearthed the aforementioned object from the back of a cupboard that looked like it hadn’t been opened since Tobirama moved in. He carefully rinsed the dust off it, filled it with water and the flowers bouquet he’d bought and found it a place near the center of the table.

“Flowers aren’t really my thing since I can’t appreciate them properly. Besides, Anija makes them bloom everywhere anyways, so what would the point be?” Tobirama replies from his perch on the counter across the kitchen. Madara doesn’t really understand the first part but that’s okay because he understands the second way too well.

"Does this look okay? I wasn't sure if the colours of the flowers were too clashing but the clerk assured me, they were offset by the others enough that it didn't matter..." Madara trailed off. He knew he was being a bit ridiculous but the level incredulity in Tobirama's look was hurtful and uncalled for.

“Why in the world are you asking me?” Tobirama asked.

“Because you’re here?” Madara’s reply came out more of a question. “I know you don’t really care much about colour, but you can at least tell me if you can stand looking at them” he huffed. Tobirama froze, his eyes going wide which made Madara freeze in turn because that? That was not a good look.

“Shit” Tobirama murmured to himself and Madara felt as if a cold hand was trailing down his back. Tobirama rarely swore and when he did it usually meant something really big and really bad was going on. He had a split second to wonder if the village was being invaded before Tobirama started talking again. “Fuck, you don’t know! How could I forget you didn’t know?!?” He raked an agitated hand through his white hair. Madara was getting the sense that there was something he didn’t know.

“Ah? Tobi, love?” He questioned when after a minute the other just continued muttering to himself about what an idiot he was. “What don’t I know?” He figured it was best to ask bluntly, he’d never been any good at tact anyway. He was startled when the question made his normally stoic boyfriend blush and fidget ever so slightly.

“I…I didn’t mean to keep it a secret from you” Tobirama started off with, trying to reassure Madara but only succeeding in making him more anxious. “I assumed you knew. That Hashirama had told you at some point or that Izuna had figured it out and it just didn’t bother you which is why you never brought it up…” Tobirama realizing he was rambling forced himself to stop and took a deep breath before, finally, getting to the heart of the matter. “I’m blind” he blurted out. Madara took a moment to digest that.

“Oh” the Uchiha eventually replied dumbly. Tobirama, his strong and skilled lover, the man who’d spared his little brother and made his childhood dreams possible was blind. He wanted to reel in shock but…but he kept remembering instances, and small habits of Tobirama’s he’d observed that suddenly made so much more sense. His handwriting, the scribe he had with him at all times at work, his braille books and the way he would always read them and only them when he was low on chakra. It explained Hashirama’s insistence on giving him the most horrible clothes, why he hated doors and kept everything so neat. Every odd habit and quirk of his lover’s he’d wondered about but accepted (because they were a part of Tobirama and therefore precious) suddenly made sense. He looked back at Tobirama (when had he looked away?) and found him playing with a loose thread looking worried and…ashamed? He realized then that Tobirama expected him to be mad. Expected him to be angry that he’d never mentioned this to him before.

“Oh, Tobi” he crossed the distance between them in quick steps and pulled his boyfriend into his arms. “I’m not mad” he reassured the other. “Yes, I’m surprised because I never would have guessed and I’m maybe a bit annoyed at myself for not noticing the clues, but I’m not upset with you. I’m honoured that you trust me enough to tell me now!” He pulled the other down for a kiss that he poured his soul into. He tried to show the other how much he loved him, how learning this only made his love and admiration for the other’s strength grow. He seemed to have succeeded since Tobirama was beaming at him when he pulled away.

“I love you” the albino told him tenderly as he tucked an escaped strand of black hair back behind Madara’s ear, caressing his face as he went. Madara nuzzled into the hand with a smile. “And I trust you with all that I am” he added. Madara felt his heart skip a beat at the admission and the adoration written plainly in red, sightless eyes. He’d known, of course, but to hear it…They would have details to work out later, questions Madara would need to ask and accommodations he’d learn to provide, but for the moment this was everything he needed and wanted.

“I love you too, there is no one I would rather have beside me” he confessed in turn. Delighting in the way Tobirama’s smile widened even more at the words. Entranced with the man in front of him Madara could do nothing but kiss him again. The world around him faded away until the only thing left was Tobirama. Evidently, his love was having a similar experience since neither of them noticed the arrival of their relatives. They were pulled apart, and back into reality, by Hashirama’s happy squeezing and Izuna’s confused exclamations. Blushing, Madara pulled away to let Tobirama hop off the counter. He kept one hand in Tobirama’s and felt the other give it a comforting squeeze. Tobirama had his back and they would face this together. Strength renewed, Madara set about helping the other deal with the ridiculous people they called family.

[ladyshandioftheendless]

Head of the Mafia: Ending The Tale of Woe

Well look what we have here~ A continuation of Head of the Mafia! A low down dirty Cat finally gets what he deserves~

Beth wanted to get Peter Criss taken care of as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it took about three days before she could actually do away with him. The three days were spent straightening things out for when the deed was done. She wasn’t a fool; she knew the Brooklyn families would be up in arms in search of the Brooklyn Wildcat after his mysterious disappearance. Despite how unhinged he was, he was still quite prominent, and had many friends and allies. 

Luckily, so did Beth. 

“Now I’m putting my trust in you, Elegance. The Demon told me you were the best, and I need the best. You’re clear on what I want you to do?" 

"Absolutely, Donna Caringi,” Elegance’s smooth voice replied over the phone. 

“And I have your word on your silence after all this is over?”

“No one even knows my true name. You have my word.”

“Good. I want you to start tomorrow. If all goes as planned, and you keep your promise, you’ll receive your payment in two weeks." 

"Thank you, Donna Caringi. If I may be frank, I much prefer you to your grandfather. You’re a bit more reasonable than he was." 

Beth didn’t speak for a moment. Then she replied, "I’m sure you’re not the only one who thinks that way, Elegance." 

After she hung up the phone, she leaned back in her desk chair and sighed, closing her eyes. That was it; the last bit of preparation she had to do. Now… an anticipating smile came to her face. She just had to wait until tomorrow now. 

There was a sudden knock at the door of her office. She opened her eyes and lowered her head, recognizing the knock. "Come in," 

The door opened, and Vinnie crept inside, shutting the door behind him. Beth smiled at him. "Hi, Vinnie. What do you need?" 

Vinnie kept his eyes on the floor, looking incredibly small and broken. There were dark circles around his eyes, his eyes were usually red, and his skin was pale in a way that definitely wasn’t healthy. And Beth couldn’t be sure, but she was concerned he had lost weight from how he hadn’t been eating. 

Not that she blamed him. She understood; the past three days had been tumultuous enough on her end, so it had to be incredibly hard for Vinnie to handle. In the span of four days, he had been reunited with his cousin, attacked by his abuser, rescued by Beth, and subsequently moved back to live with her. From Beth’s sources, it seemed no one had bothered to question his whereabouts. All he’d been to them was the trophy fuck of the Brooklyn Wildcat. 

"N-Nana asked me to tell you dinner’s ready,” Vinnie said, his voice quiet and timid. 

Food suddenly sounded amazing. Beth smiled and stood up, stretching out. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been sitting in that chair for hours. Food sounds amazing. Especially Nana’s food. Did she tell you what we’re having?" 

Vinnie timidly shook his head. "N-No… I’m sorry…" 

Beth frowned for a second, but recovered her poker face and smiled at him. "That’s okay. We’ll be surprised.” She walked over to him, smiling still. “Let’s go." 

She knew Vinnie knew she was pretending not to notice or care; how he barely said a word when others were around, how he wasn’t eating much, sometimes at all, how he kept timidly asking her if he could sleep with her and then shying away like she was going to hit him. She saw it all, and it hurt to see. 

But as much as she wanted to cry for Vinnie, she didn’t. Instead she dried her eyes and focused on her preparations, because the sooner she got everything straightened out, the sooner it would all be over. Then she could focus. 

When that night, Vinnie came into her room, Beth simply threw back her covers without a word and let him crawl into bed next to her. And in her half-asleep state, she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around her cousin in a hug and mumble, "Don’t worry. This’ll all be over soon." 

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

The Caringi family’s "special warehouse” wasn’t actually anything special. It was just one of their storage warehouses where they kept extra stock for the restaurant. But it was special in one aspect, and it was that, traditionally, anyone who had ever crossed the family and gotten caught was likely to have died in that warehouse. 

Beth’s eyes turned to the figure tied up in the chair, and smirked. Even she didn’t know the exact kill count, but whatever it was, she was about to raise it. “Mario, wake him up, if you don’t mind." 

Mario nodded and went over to Peter, smacking him roughly across the face. Peter’s head fell to the side, and his chair would have fallen over if Mario didn’t catch it and straighten it up first. Beth’s smirk widened a bit. "Wakey wakey, kitty cat!” she sang. 

Peter’s eyes slowly blinked open, and he raised his head a bit. His eyes widened. “You," 

Beth kept the smile on her face. "Yes, me. It’s been a few days since we last spoke. How are you? Enjoying our accommodations?" 

Peter hissed at her like… well, a cat. She raised an eyebrow in amusement and laughed. "Well, someone certainly likes to get into character." 

"What the hell am I still doin’ here?” Peter demanded. “Haven’t worked up the balls to kill me yet, huh?" 

The smile disappeared from Beth’s face, and behind her, Mario and Vincenzo glanced at each other. 

Beth stalked over to Peter’s chair, the click of her heels echoing on the concrete, and slapped him across the face. His cheek was still raw from when Mario hit him, and the fresh pain made him grunt in pain. 

"Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “did that hurt? Am I hurting you? Well, too bad. Because you deserve every bit of what you’re going to get today." 

She grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet. "How does it feel, hm? To be the one being slapped around for once? It hurts, doesn’t it, to not be the one with all the power anymore?” She leaned in close. “Well I hope you enjoyed that power you had. Because you’re not getting it back." 

Peter, somehow, either through bravery or stupidity or both, managed to glare defiantly at her. "What’re you gonna do, huh? Kill me?" 

Beth smiled in amusement and laughed scathingly. "Oh, Peter… oh, Peter, Peter, Peter. I’m not going to kill you.” Smirking, she jerked her head at Mario and Vincenzo. “They are. I’m going to stand over there and watch." 

As Peter’s eyes widened, she let go of his chin and strutted over to a nearby table. On the table sat a portable record player, with a record already put in and ready to play. "A lovely occasion like this requires some mood music, wouldn’t you say?” she said over her shoulder.

She raised then lowered the needle. After a moment, the music began, playing a slow, jazzy sort of melody. And then the voice of Ruth Ettings began to sing. 

“Snow time ain’t no time to stay outdoors and spoon. So shine on, shine on, harvest moon, for me and my gal…" 

Smiling, Beth turned to Mario and Vincenzo. "Boys?" 

Nodding, Mario and Vincenzo pulled out their carving knives and advanced on Peter. 

And maybe it was a little morbid, but she suddenly understood why her grandfather had always chosen this song to play. The beautiful melody combined with the ensuing screams of pain was like music to her ears. 

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

When Beth stepped inside her house and hung up her coat, the first thing she did was look for Vinnie. She wanted him to be the first to know the good news, before he read it in the newspaper. 

But she grew concerned when he wasn’t in his bedroom. He wasn’t waiting for her in her office either. Frowning, Beth went downstairs. Maybe he had finally decided to eat something. "Vinnie?" 

Sudden crying echoing from the living room made her freeze. Then she began moving again, walking briskly towards the living room. "Vinnie?" 

When she entered the living room, she stopped again. There was Vinnie, sitting at the small bar that was in one corner. There was an open bottle of wine and a dark purple stained glass on the bar. And beside it was Vinnie’s head, buried in his arms while his shoulders shook with loud, heartwrenching sobs. As she stared, he suddenly froze and lifted his head, and their eyes locked. Vinnie’s mouth moved, and he looked like he was trying to speak, but all that came out was more crying, tears rolling endlessly down his face.

Oh, Vinnie… Beth went over to the bar and moved the wine bottle and glass off to the side, and sat down next to him. She looked back at him sadly, reaching out and gently placing her hand over his. 

Vinnie’s eyes filled with more tears and he sobbed, gripping her hand tightly. "I-I… th-thought he… l-loved m-me…” He broke down sobbing again, and his voice was slurred from the wine a bit. “He s-said he loved me… an’ I believed him… W-Why didn’t he love m-me, Bethie?" 

Beth’s heart broke. She pulled him close and hugged him tightly, listening to him cry. Loud, gross sobbing wracked his entire body, probably helped a little by the wine. "Why didn’t he love me, Beth?” Vinnie wailed. “I loved him so much! What did I do?!" 

Her arms tightened around him a fraction. "It’s okay, Vinnie. It’s okay." 

"B-But w-what did I do?” he sobbed. 

“You didn’t do anything,” she kept her voice gentle. “None of what he did to you was your fault. It’s his. He’s a monster.” Well, was. Which reminded her… “But you don’t have to worry about him anymore." 

Vinnie’s sobs lessened, and he pulled away to look at her questioningly through his tears. "H-Huh?" 

Beth tried not to smile too much at what she said next. "He’s gone. He’s dead. He’s being dumped into the Hudson right now, I think. But he’s gone, forever." 

Vinnie stared dumbly at her, looking like he thought she was lying. Then his face crumpled and he sobbed, then flung himself at her and cried all over again. For a second, Beth was worried she’d said the wrong thing. But then her eyes happened to turn to the mirror on the wall behind the bar, and noticed something. 

Vinnie’s head was leaning against her shoulder, and on his face she could see forming a small, wobbly smile. Beth smiled herself and turned away from the mirror, hugging Vinnie tightly. "It’s okay, Vinnie. I’ve got you." 

He didn’t respond; he couldn’t form the words, probably. But his hold on her tightened, and that was enough. 

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay - chapter nine

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

A/N - I won’t put links in so that this comes up on search, but check my masterlist for links to every previous/future chapter. Also, this was meant to have a lot more content in it, but I normally aim to put out 3k chapters, and the smut alone in this is 3.5k, so I’ve bumped the rest of the chapters up one. I’m trying to go in a new direction with Jungkook here that I think I’ve never seen people write before, but I’ve gotten inspired from the j-drama Love and Fortune on Netflix, so if you’ve seen it, you know what you’re in for! Let’s just say, Jungkook is a little too young to understand what a healthy relationship is.

Warnings for this chapter: sub!Jungkook, noona!reader, oral (female receiving), protected sex (I’m that responsible bitch now), multiple orgasms.

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER NINE ↳Jungkook just wants to comfort you in your time of need. But maybe accepting it isn’t the wisest decision.

There was something so delightful about the duality of Jeon Jungkook. Most of the time, he was a jokey, bouncy nerd teasing whoever came close enough. But then you were struck with moments like these, rare as they were, when all of the overexcited energy breaks away to reveal a glimpse of the sensitive, gentle soul inside.

The way he would give a little gulp when you held heavy eye-contact too long, the pout he got when people didn’t pay him enough attention, his slow blinks when he tried to focus completely on what somebody else was saying.

Normally it was just a flicker; a singular moment in time. Now, however, you felt the full weight of his gaze on you, a hand gently squeezing yours, and the open vulnerability in his eyes. It almost felt like holding a new puppy for the first time or having a toddler hold his arms up to you for a hug. The overwhelming wave of affection that rolled over you was nothing like the hot and heavy lust that Jimin elicited in you, nor was it the teenage-crush feeling you got around Jin.

God, what was the interviewing process for the hotel if three of the workers had made you feel all kinds of ways before you had even been there four months? It didn’t seem fair at all.

What was next, Hoseok giving you baby fever? You seriously doubted it, but still.

At this point you had no idea how long Jungkook had sat in silence, wide eyes still flickering back and forth between yours, mouth open slightly as he waited for a reply.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, “you don’t want this.”

His hand squeezed tighter around yours in insistence. “I do, noona. I…I’ve been thinking about you a lot for a while, now. But then there was the whole Tae fiasco, and you invited me into your home like I was a little brother, and I thought you must not feel the same way. But I just want you to know, whether something happens or not, that I’d never treat you the way that guy did; I’d give you the world to make you happy.”

You bit your lip, his eyes following the motion with a little gulp. “You’re too young to be feeling that way about somebody, Jungkook. You don’t know what you’re saying. What you have is probably just puppy love. I was kind to you, I helped you make a life change that made you happier and now you’re associating that happiness with me. It happens to everybody, and I’m not holding it against you, but don’t think that this is what love is. It’s not.”

He jerks his head back like he’s been slapped. “How can you say that? I’m only four years younger than you, of course I know what love is. You deserve so much better than what that guy did to you and I want to give you that.” He sighs, blinks a little faster, and you’re shocked to see that his eyes are shiny. “What can I do to make you believe me? Noona, let me show you how much I love you.”

You bring your other hand up to pat his. He looks a little put out by the maternal action but doesn’t pull away. “Jungkook, you should know…The guy I was talking about is Jimin. And he’s not some evil demon out to get women, he just wanted different things and it was disappointing that it couldn’t work out. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to protect my honor.”

He scowls. “Jimin? I don’t care who it is, noona. I promise you I’ll be better than him. I’ll make you breakfast in the mornings and write little notes on the fridge. I’ll learn how you take your coffee. I’ll give you anything you want.” His eyes darken a little, vulnerable emotion giving way to sweet desire. “I’ll make you feel good. Let me make you feel good.”

You blame your vulnerable state. You blame your raging hormones. In the near future, when your life begins to fall apart at the seams and everything turns sour, you will blame your actions on these things so that you can sleep at night.

But even though you’re the one with relationship drama and Jungkook is the one trying to comfort you, you know deep down that when you slowly nod your head and lean in, that you are the one taking advantage of Jungkook here.

By the time he sighs out in relief, he’s close enough that you feel the air shift on your face. He keeps his eyes open until the last second, gingerly reaching a hand up to snake around your neck and pull you in closer, pushing his lips firmly against yours.

It’s immediately apparent from his stiff movements that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but you can practically taste his sincerity and honest passion when the two of you begin to move, his little delicate pecks causing you to smile against him.

You mirror his position, pulling up a leg onto the couch so you can face him fully and clasp his face between your hands gently, guiding him into a deeper kiss.

Although neither of you are exerting much effort, he’s taking quick shallow gasps of air between kisses like it’s all to overwhelming. His lips are soft, and you can feel the edges of his fringe brush up against your forehead. He makes you feel like a teenager again, sharing something sweet and secretive and intimate, and if there is any doubt still withstanding in your mind about the morality of this, you found yourself too hazy and drunk on his affection to consider it.

Slowly, he begins to slip his tongue out, pushing tentatively against the seam of your lips, and you tip your head to the side to allow him a better angle, opening your mouth enough to run the flat of your tongue against the tip of his. He sucks in a breath, and the hand still resting on the back of your neck tightens slightly to keep you firmly close as he returns the favor, slowly working up a confidence.

You shiver when his tongue slips under your top lip, running over your teeth and sucking your lip in so he can nibble at it. The pressure of his teeth makes your heart skip a beat and your breath hitch, and he chuckles lowly at your sudden inhale.

“Like it?” he teases. “I’m a quick learner.”

And he is. Now that his tongue and teeth have come out to play, he seems uninterested in returning to the sweet kisses from before, and he tips your head back with his other hand so he can drag his teeth slowly down the side of your neck, catching on your collarbone where he laps at the skin, suckling at it periodically to leave little blossoms of color.

You furrow your eyebrows and let your mouth fall slack. “I thought you said you had a girlfriend that you did this stuff with all the time,” you question, though your breathing is so shallow that it’s barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t take the time to pull back and face you, but as his wet kisses fall below to the slope of your breasts you can feel the crook of his cheeky smile. “I lied.”

A saner, less aroused you would recognize this as a red flag, but instead you begin to undo the buttons of your work shirt and let out a breathy laugh. “Good boys shouldn’t lie.”

He freezes against you, hands clasping your upper arms and face pressed into your neck.

You frown, pushing at him to get him to sit up. “Woah, are you okay?”

To your surprise, his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. “Say that again,” he demands, biting on his swollen lower lip in barely restrained desire.

He finishes off the buttons of your shirt for you, and pushes it off, dislodging the straps of your bra in the process. You have to think back. “Good boy?” When he nods and you see the glimmer in his eye, you grin. “Are you gonna be my good boy, Jungkookie?”

He whines and nods desperately, thumbs rubbing at the skin underneath the fallen bra straps.

You grin again, and reach behind you to unclasp your bra, letting the lace fall away. “I’m glad,” you croon, “because good boys get rewarded for their behavior.”

His eyes zero in on your nipples, already hardening in the air-conditioned apartment, but sooner than you expect they flicker back up to your face. “Noona, can I…?”

He waits patiently for your nod, but then launches his face at your chest with such a velocity that you tip backwards and land against the arm of the couch. Without missing a beat, he hooks one leg over yours and leans down over you, one hand propping himself up mere centimeters away from you, and the other coming down to cup your right breast, running a thumb lightly over the peaked nipple and chuckling at the way your body shivers violently.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mutters reverentially, letting his fingernail drag slightly over each peak to get you to shudder beneath him again. His tongue comes out to wet his lips, and he looks down at you imploring, pinching down slightly like it’s going to persuade you.

You nod again, and he sits back on your thighs so that his face is level with your chest, flicking at the skin around your breast teasingly before he sucks a nipple into your mouth and runs his tongue over it. You feel vibrations sending shockwaves straight to your core as he moans indulgently, lapping and flicking at sucking at one until it becomes too much and you gently push his head over to the other side, where he diligently performs the same service.

You sigh in bliss. “You’re so good to me, Jungkook. You make your noona feel really good.”

He whines again, and begins to push his hips into your crotch, desperate for some friction. Before he asks to go any further, however, he shoots up to rip off his work shirt and falls back onto you, latching his mouth onto yours for a second time.

He continues to rub himself over you, and he feels so hard beneath the thin material of his pants that you’re certain it must feel painful, but he busies himself with licking up into the roof of your mouth and nibbling at your bottom lip, eager to please.

The wet marks across your chest have gone cold from the atmosphere, but his chest is like a furnace when he presses up against you, and you can’t take it anymore. “I’m ready, Jungkook. You don’t have to wait anymore.”

He groans into your mouth and pulls away, sitting up so that he can unbutton your pants and slide them off with your panties. However, instead of undressing fully himself, he pauses between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows. “What is it?”

He’s staring at your pussy, but he looks more determined than aroused. “How many times did Jimin make you cum?”

“What?”

“How many times,” he repeats firmly.

You blink at him. “Just the once. Jungkook, I don’t want to talk about-”

“Did he go down on you?”

“No. Look, let’s just-”

“Can I?”

He’s returning eye-contact now, hands tucked around the backs of your knees, applying pressure to the inner side so that your legs slowly fall open. Your mouth goes dry, but you feel a new rush of warmth between your thighs. “O- Okay.”

He shoots you a look of pure joy and eagerly shuffles down the couch, belly-up with his face close enough to your heat that you feel puffs of air tickle your folds. He pauses. “I… I’ve never done this before,” he admits nervously.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you remind him, “I’m not expecting an orgasm from your first time eat-oh!” You break off abruptly as he licks a stripe up your pussy, tongue pointed and parting your folds as he goes.

Once he finishes, he savors your taste for a moment before looking up at you from between your legs. “I told you, noona, I’m a fast learner. I wanna make you cum once now, and then again with me. Then you’ll forget about Jimin for good.”

He tucks his head back down and repeats his earlier motion, this time applying enough pressure on the upstroke that his tongue dips into you as he goes. The shallow contact has you clenching around nothing, and he gives little kitten licks upwards, trying to locate your clit, you exhale contentedly and lean your head back on the armrest, happy to enjoy the ride.

It’s even more apparent here than when you two first kissed that he hasn’t done this before, but he’s right; Jeon Jungkook is an extremely quick learner. Once he finds your clit, he uses his tongue to push back the hood and expose it, circling around a couple times like he did with your nipples.

The delightful satisfaction floods your system, but you’re ready for more. “Fingers, Jungkook, good boys use their hands.”

You mean it as a joke, but he moans against you and slicks up two fingers, tucking the first one inside with minimal trouble. You squeeze around him in welcoming and he swears into your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, “sucking me in like that.”

You whisper his name to get him to look up at you, and wordlessly, you hold out your pointer finger in front of him and crook it in a ‘come-hither’ motion. He smiles and nods, then copies the action with the finger buried inside you.

The added pressure on the top wall of your pussy gets you to moan again, and Jungkook begins slowly thrusting his finger, hooking it and dragging it along you on every pull out, lapping at your clit all the while.

You reach down and card your fingers through his hair, pulling the fringe away from his forehead so you can better see the adoring look he’s giving you from between your legs.

Without needing to be told, he pulls his finger out only to slip in two on the next stroke, still dragging along the rough patch inside you with his pointer, but the added stretch increasing the satisfaction.

Steadily, the tension in your stomach begins to solidify and you can feel how close you are. Once you tell Jungkook to speed up, he puts all his focus into his fingers rather than his tongue, and instead simply starts suckling on your clit, changing the pressure constantly, moving his tongue over it lazily for some added friction.

You can hear yourself growing louder, and the urge to clamp your thighs around Jungkook’s head and just thrust up onto his face is getting harder to resist.

He pulls of your clit long enough to gaze up at you, fingers still working inside you. “Are you going to cum, noona?”

You grin down at him wickedly. “Say please.”

You feel the way his fingers speed up impossibly with that comment, going wild. “Please, noona, please cum for me.”

When he bends down and sucks your clit so intensely that it scrapes against your teeth, you feel the tension snap and liquify into an intense orgasm. You can’t help but tense up your thighs around him, but judging by the enthusiastic vibrations against your clit, you don’t think he minds. He holds on a little too long, until you instinctively dart down your free hand to push away his head and wiggle your hips back into the couch for some distance.

As he pulls away, a string of spit joins his lips to yours, and you moan at the sight, collapsing back onto the couch.

He breaks the string with his tongue and crawls up to bring you into another kiss. You’re a little too out of it to really reciprocate but he gives you a few gentle kisses and lets you taste yourself on his tongue as you come back down.

When you sigh out, he smiles against you and leans back a little. “You ready?” Once you nod, he hops off the couch quickly to strip down to nothing, tossing his pants and underwear across the hardwood floor.

He notices you staring, bewildered, at his dick and blushes. It stood upright, leaking profusely in his excitement, but what really got you was the size. How was he so much bigger than Jimin? You beckon him over and he positions himself between your legs.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

You groan impatiently and tuck your legs around his hips, tilting your hips up so that he brushed against you. “Jungkook’s been a good boy, so now he gets a treat.”

He sighs as he lines himself up, and it looks like he’s about to burst already, so you reach out and push on his chest to stop him. He looks at you in concern.

“Just, put on a condom, please. It’s your first time and, well, I don’t know that you’d know when to pull out.” He pouts a little, but you remain firm, and so he potters on down to his room, cock bobbing and smearing precum on his lower stomach, and grabs a condom, slipping it on as he walks back so that he can get straight back into it.

He lines up again, looking a little put out at the decreased sensation, but the moment he pushes the head inside, his expression opens up into pure bliss.

He sinks in slowly, languidly, like he’s taking his time to remember every moment, and you honestly can’t remember a time in your admittedly long sexual history that a guy has treated you with this much reverence.

Once he bottoms out, hips pushing your legs even further apart, he takes a couple moments to calm himself before he begins to move again. At first, it’s little bunny-hop thrusts, staying embedded deep inside but still creating speedy little bouts of friction, but as he gains confidence and a little momentum, he changes to a slower, deeper and somehow more intimate rhythm.

He bends down close enough to you that your chests brush against each other with each deliberate thrust, and he lets his face dangle in the crook of your neck, nose pressing against your pulse.

For a horny teenager that hadn’t actually gotten any before, Jungkook showed incredible restraint in the amount of time he remained in that sensual phase, savoring every moment, but eventually you began to tire of the pace. “Jungkook?”

“Mm?” His breath tickled your neck as he nuzzled your skin.

“Can you go a little faster? I bet you want to cum.”

He grunts, the sound muffled, but dutifully picks up the pace.

Soon enough, he’s fucking you into the couch with such force that you begin to bounce back up onto him. You don’t know how he has the stamina to keep up the pace, but the warmth in your core is steadily heating up, and this one feels even stronger than before with the sheer size of him stretching you out deliciously.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you moan, “it feels so good.”

He doesn’t pause his vigorous thrusting, but he leans in a little to keep steadier eye contact. “Do I fuck you better than Jimin?”

“Wha- Don’t bring up Jimin, Jungkook, I’m not fucking him, I’m fucking you.”

He whines like a kicked puppy. “Just say yes, noona. I’m going to make you cum again and he could only do it once.”

He shifts his weight to one side so he can rub at your clit with a firm thumb. You cry out in delight, so close to falling over the edge again, and you give him what he wants in the hopes that he’ll drop it. “Yes, Jungkook, you fuck me better than him.”

He sighs blissfully, somehow picking up the pace of his hips like the final sprint to the finish line. He grunts and whimpers, sweat beading at his temples and his chest. He looks deep into your eyes before he comes. “I love you, noona.”

Your breath catches, and you stare at him with wide-eyes, but before your mind can begin to process, a pinch of your clit paired with a well-timed thrust catapults you over the edge and you begin to shudder violently beneath him, overwhelmed with pleasure.

A few minutes later, once the two of you have stopped panting like overheated animals, he pulls out and leaves to take off the condom.

Feeling physically satisfied but a little sick, you gather your clothes and shut yourself away in your room before he can come back.

There it is! I really hope you enjoyed the chapter, it’s so hard to get the balance right between drama and sexy times. But this is where the story gets a little heavier, so I’d love it if you sent me your feedback about what you think is going to happen in the future!

TAGLIST (message me or send an ask to be added)

@xxqueenwxtchxx

@fandomarchive00

@cvbachacbitch

@echimozart

[redroseinsanity]

Ōmagatoki - Day 2

@daisugaweek2019​ | Day 2 - Haste/Wish

Chapters: 2/7

Summary: In the Kamakura period, a fallen samurai undertakes a journey to pray for the mountain god’s mercy as a famine threatens his people, but instead meets an enchanting tree spirit. Daichi knows that the kodama is possibly the most dangerous being he has ever encountered, and yet, he falls.

—

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?”

“A sacrifice.”

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Daichi woke with the dawn. In the early strains of morning light, the clearing that he had decided to take a chance and fall asleep in proved to be a good choice, with a thick amount of vegetation providing ample buffer from the chilly night winds. 

As the night’s memories streamed into his consciousness, he glanced around and found that he was alone. With a wry grin, he shook his head. A dream, after all. 

The alluring stranger was nothing more than a figment of his exhausted mind or the result pushing his body too far after months of inactivity. Nevertheless, he shut his eyes and recalled the way his name had sounded in that musical voice, holding it the way one held a piece of candy on their tongue. 

Daichi. 

He drew a deep breath, and proceeded to banish it from his mind. 

After washing up in a stream nearby, he ate some of his rations and drank his fill before moving off, taking care to mentally mark his route lest he lose his way. 

He had no clear idea what he was looking for, but if he were to believe the stories, he would know it when he found it. A place or a landmark or something that he would see, and know in his bones that it was where he ought to be paying his respects. 

By midday, he had plunged so deep into the heart of the mountain forest that he had the nagging feeling he might have gotten lost. The logical part of him demanded that he turn back and head down the mountain, go home and return to the meaningless wallowing in self-pity that he had indulged in prior to this.

But he hadn’t found what he was looking for and he refused to revert to the despondent creature he had been. Daichi’s sense of duty had been unwavering even in the blur of his purposeless moping, and it had been the sense of responsibility he felt for his people that had dragged him out to practise his combat drills, to take tours to see the extent of the problem and eventually, had forced him up this very mountain. So, on he pressed, past hanging vines and gleaming blades of immaculately shaped leaves, careful not to disturb intricately constructed webs. 

In the thick of the woods, he grew increasingly uneasy as he manoeuvred across fallen logs and mossy stones. A stream trickled along in the distance and by this point, he was fairly certain he had chanced upon some kind of untouched paradise, given the surreal beauty of the scenery. 

Yet, there was a cold prickling at the back of his neck and something in his gut had his hand clasped loosely around the hilt of his katana. This place was perfect, too perfect, in fact. Was this it?

“Daichi?“ 

Keep reading on AO3 or read after the cut

Daichi whirled around, half drawing his blade as he struggled to locate the source. From the thicket, the stranger seemed to have been pulled from thin air, his figure rippling in the wind while Daichi blinked, trying to focus on him.

"It is you,” the stranger’s hazel eyes were no less beautiful in the daylight than they had been at dusk, but they held a measure of concern and something sharper, something Daichi tried and failed to put a finger on. 

You’re real, Daichi thought in disbelief, his gaze flickering over a slight build clad in pale jade cloth and faltering at the same silver spun hair, dripping over his shoulders.

“What are you doing here?” The stranger asked, taking bold steps over just as he had quietly and unhesitatingly sidled up to Daichi the night before.

“I could be asking you the same question,” Daichi shifted into a defensive stance, “Who are you? Why are you here?” How is it that I have not met you sooner? 

The stranger seemed surprised, then a delighted smile lit his face and Daichi promptly forgot all the other questions he had. 

“You can call me Suga,” he stopped right in front of Daichi, bringing the faint scent of cedar with him, “I am wandering, just like you.”

Up close and in the light, Suga was far more beguiling than Daichi had anticipated and he groped for words or any form of coherency in his brain while valiantly attempting to recover the power of speech. 

“I am not wandering,” he managed to say firmly, “I am searching for a specific place so I suppose you can say that I am questing.”

“Well, I can tell you this is not the right place,” Suga declared cheerfully, turning towards the direction he originally came from and starting off. 

When he realised that Daichi had not followed, he threw a look back and frowned. 

“Are you not coming?”

“Do you know where it is? If not, I- I am afraid I must keep going,” Daichi fought down the instinctive urge to go wherever Suga did and willed his feet to stay planted where they were. 

“I know what you need and I know how to get it,” Suga flashed a winsome smile, eyes twinkling as he continued in his original direction and now, Daichi hastened to catch up, heart pounding faster than his brisk walking warranted. 

“How do you know?” Daichi asked, pulling back a branch to allow Suga to walk past it and was rewarded with a beatific curve of pale pink lips. 

“I live here,” Suga replied simply, and as if to prove it, he hopped deftly over three ridiculously uneven stones to cross a stream. 

Daichi hovered at the edge of the bank before deciding that he could clear it and took a single leap, stumbling a little as he landed on his bad leg only to catch himself and straighten quickly in a painstakingly rehearsed move. 

He looked up to see Suga watching him with a peculiar expression and instantaneously, his stomach seized. He had no use for pity, not here, not when he had undertaken this precisely to prove (to whom, he had not yet figured out) that he was nothing worth pitying. 

“I did not think there was anybody living here,” he blurted, hoping to distract Suga and feed his own curiosity at the same time. 

“Of course there are,” Suga replied off-handedly, picking up his pace and trotting confidently on, “You people down there believe differently simply because none of you have met anyone who does.”

Daichi reined in ten different rebuttals and questions on the tip of his tongue to remind himself that the logic that had guided him for the past twenty four years seemed to evaporate on this mountain. 

“But now I have,” He was unaware that he had spoken aloud until Suga whipped around to face him again, he smiled gently at Suga’s surprised look, “I’ve met you.”

He didn’t expect Suga’s face to soften into fondness, and he certainly didn’t expect his traitorous heart to fall out of beat for that moment. 

“Yes,” Suga’s eyes, growing endeared and yet, filling with an age old melancholy, looked brighter than ever, “Yes, now you’ve met me.”

Standing there in a fern coloured set of robes, Suga seemed to fit right in with the foliage they were surrounded by and Daichi could see why he constantly failed to see him until he was practically right in front of the samurai. Not for the first time, Daichi speculated on just how much of this encounter was real. For all he knew, he had accidentally tripped into the spirit realm and was doing nothing more than talking to ghosts or figments of his imagination. 

Just to be sure, he looked down at the dirt track that Suga was leading him along, eyes trailing past the hem of the cloth to where Suga was taking small but confident steps ahead. And his own gait stuttered. 

There were no footprints. 

Chancing a casual look back to his own tracks he saw his own sturdy shoeprints in the dirt and checking again, he ascertained that there was only one set of footprints despite there clearly being the two of them. 

He supposed he ought to be frightened or that he ought to start running away in terror, but all he felt was a calm sense of acceptance, as though a piece he had been struggling to comprehend had fallen into place and that seemed about right. 

He did not stumble again as he followed Suga, accompanied by the notion that nothing he knew held true anymore and simultaneously, that person in front of him was the truest thing he would ever know. 

“This is further from the heart of the forest,” Daichi said dumbly as he got his bearings a long hike later. Suga had guided them into another small open patch on the crest of the mountain, adjacent to where Daichi had started out. This angle afforded him both a view of his land and the spectacular stretches of mountains that lay beyond it, and Daichi winced as he was reminded of how poorly his people were doing.

“The heart of the forest is not somewhere you need to go to save your people,” Suga came to stand next to Daichi, “It is not safe for you.”

As silently as he had approached Daichi, Suga left to recline against the slanted wood of a large beech tree. 

“What if I told you that there’s a price to pay for saving your people?”

“What kind of price?” 

“A sacrifice.”

Daichi mulled over it for a brief instant although he already knew the answer. 

“Then I will pay it.”

Daichi wondered if they had arrived at the point whereby Suga would demand that he lay down his life for what he was asking. He waited but all that came was a scoff as Suga wiggled to make himself more comfortable.

“You say rash things for someone so steadfast,” Was the simple reply and Daichi let out an exhale, relieved and disappointed.

From where he stood, it was a steep dive down to the neatly fenced farming plots and village that Daichi was familiar with. Here, with the breeze toying with argon strands of Suga’s hair and the sky settling into a rich blend of reds and oranges, Daichi felt far removed from his life down below. 

Not even when he was an unimaginable distance away fighting the war did he feel so far from where he called home. As he watched Suga’s lids flutter closed, observed the slow inhale, the way the other man seemed to lean into the touch of the tree trunk he was resting against, he could not help but feel as though he was much closer to the sky than he was to his land. 

Guiltily, he wondered what it would be like, to keep going up, to stretch his fingers toward the horizon instead of tilting his chin downwards.

He was out of his depth, this he knew. He knew it when he was walking behind Suga and desperately wishing he could test the silkiness of that maddeningly silver hair. He knew it when he failed to get the answers he was looking for but believed that he did anyway because the voice that gave them was so enchanting. And he knew now, when the sun was setting and he had no idea what he was doing except that as long as it involved this mysterious man, he wanted to keep doing it. 

“What are you hoping for?” The question startled Daichi out of his thoughts and he turned to see Suga still with his eyes closed and head pillowed on the dark brown of the bark. 

“I’m hoping that I can find a way to feed my people, maybe a miracle so that not so many die when the winter comes,” Daichi confessed in a low tone, searching in the distance for an answer he did not possess. It was the tail end of spring, but one good harvest in the summer could be his people’s salvation. 

“No, that’s what you want for your people,” Suga’s eyes opened languidly and he focused a glittering hazel stare on the samurai. 

“What do you want?" 

Daichi drew a blank. Samurai were taught to put their community and nation first. Nobody had ever asked him what he wanted before. Rather, no one had ever asked him what he wanted without having a standard answer that they expected to receive. His brows knitted as he slowly made his way over to Suga and dropped into the spot next to him. 

Around them, dragonflies lit on taller blades of grass, as though surveying the area before heading back. Daichi thought of the picture they made, Suga’s light green fabric against his dark brown sensible clothes amidst the verdant field, the branches swaying overhead and the pale warmth from the fading day. 

All of a sudden he was biting back a ‘You’ from the tip of his tongue. You, he thought, with surprise and abandon, I want to stay here with you. 

Instead he cleared his throat, and pondered the question, deliberately avoiding the unnerving weight of Suga’s gaze. 

"I think I would want to find peace,” Daichi said more to himself than anything, “To find purpose and to be at peace with the path that life has shown me." 

He looked up to see Suga eyeing him thoughtfully, and for a cold second he imagined that the other man knew that he had not been completely truthful. 

But Suga broke into a grin, a flash of white in the dimming light. 

"Well then, Daichi, would you not say that it’s peaceful here?” With me? Remained unspoken, but it rang out in the evening regardless and as if on cue, the last of a flock of swallows hurtled past, racing to get back before nightfall. 

Daichi smiled, shoving the clamour of uncertainty into the far reaches of his mind, clamping down on the urgency that prodded him to find what he was looking for and go home. He could not stay in this haven for long, he could not dodge his responsibilities forever and although he knew all of that, for now at least, he could linger just a little longer. 

“Yes,” he gave that smile, wist swallowed only to leave a genuine albeit bashful crinkling of his eyes, to Suga, “I would say so.”

[tommyparkerr]

Promises Part Four | Peter Parker x Reader

It’s the last one guys! I really hope you enjoyed this series as much as I did and I’m so sorry I couldn’t get this out sooner, but it is what it is and it’s here now! I’ve had so much fun with this and I can’t wait to show you all what else I’ve been working on! But for now, enjoy! And please let me know what you thought!:)

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: Some angst, but ultimately ends in some fluff (Finally, I know)

-Masterlist-

P A R T  F O U R :

You were cut off by a knocking at your window. Your heads snapped to the source, which turned out to be Tony rapping his knuckles against the glass. Peter quickly unrolled the window.

“You two—with me. Quickly. I’ve got something I need to talk with you about before the children get bored of breakfast and start ripping into their presents without us,” he said, encouraging you and Peter to get out of the car within seconds. Peter was on his way to the trunk when Tony stopped him and steered him back toward the compound. “I’ll send Capsicle and his dashing prince out to get your stuff. You just need to focus on doing what you’re told.”

“Mr. Stark-“

“Uh uh,” Tony interrupted, spinning around on his heel to walk backward while he finished talking. “Unless you drop the ‘Mr. Stark’ and you’re not about to argue with me, then I don’t want to hear it.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Tony, what do you need to talk to us about?”

“Overruled.”

“On what grounds?” Peter pushed, sounding exasperated. He gave a quick look to you and slowed his steps a bit when he realized you were falling behind; you would usually be keeping up, but you just didn’t have the energy. You were so tired—tired of holding all your emotions inside and keeping secrets, tired of fighting, tired of pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.

But you couldn’t say that aloud. At least, not right now. Not here, where Peter’s surrogate father was clearly worked up about whatever he needed to talk to you about.

“On the ‘Because I Said So’ Act established the summer of 2016 when I took you on the trip of a lifetime,” Tony quipped, raising a brow as if daring Peter to try again. Peter simply grumbled and subconsciously shuffled closer to you, causing you to bite your lip and adjust the straps of your purse.

Tony spun back around and continued leading you up without another word. Neither you or Peter bothered to speak; your heart was still racing from your conversation in the car and what you’d been about to tell him, and Peter just looked tired. You couldn’t imagine the toll his ‘misfire’ had been taking on him, especially if it had been going on for as long as he said it had been—especially since he had no idea the reason it was going off in the first place. You were sure the not knowing was the worst part; Peter always had the answers, but now he didn’t and you did, and you were too afraid to reveal them.

“There we are,” Tony spoke up once you’d reached your destination. It took you a moment to realize that the destination was yours and Peter’s bedroom. You gave the billionaire a questioning brow. “It’s quiet and far away from any tantrums that may be thrown. We’re already up to the count of two this morning, so I can only imagine the numbers after our talk.” He rolled his eyes as he opened the door. “Children.”

“Clint and Laura’s?” you asked with a frown, knowing that usually they were good kids. Not to mention old enough not to be throwing tantrums at this point.

Tony’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Close. Clint and Sam. We put them in timeout for good measure.”

A rare smile tugged at your lips and a giggle crawled up your throat only to die out at the last second when you saw Peter’s lack of reaction. You turned away before Tony could see the sudden change in mood and quickly stepped inside the room, followed shortly by Peter.

And then the door clicked shut.

You and Peter whipped around at the sound, frantically looking for Tony. A heavy scooting and then a thump as something propped up against the door. Then, upon realizing what had just happened, Peter marched up and twisted the door handle only to find it was locked.

“Tony, what did you do?” Peter asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“I locked you and your lovely wife in your room, Mr. Parker,” came his reply, slightly muffled.

“No shit,” Peter drawled, twisting the door knob again. “What happened to needing to talk to us?”

“I lied. Sorry pal, but I have full support on this one.”

You shook your head and walked to the corner of the room, running your nervous, shaking fingers through your hair while Peter continued to fight a losing battle. You really didn’t want this conversation to be forced on you, but you knew that without this push you and Peter may have never gotten around to it. That wasn’t to say you didn’t still want to thump on the base of Tony’s skull for doing this.

Peter hit his hip against the door. “What do you mean, full support?!” he exclaimed. “You mean everyone was in on this?!”

“Why do you think you can’t get the door open, Pete? That’s Capsicle’s shield propped up against it. You can try as hard as you want, kid, but you can’t beat Vibranium. Of that, I’m sure.” Peter let out a frustrated growl—one that Tony heard. “Don’t go all alpha on me now, kid. I’m still the adult here. Anyway, Friday has already been instructed not to let you out until you two have worked through some things, because it’s Christmas, damn it, and we’ve had enough of the fighting. And don’t you think you can outsmart the AI I built either. Friday, you on watch duty?”

“Always, boss,” came the feminine voice from above you, making you jump. You still weren’t quite used to the AI, never having been exposed to anything as complex as Tony’s until you met Peter.

“Great. I’ll see you later then, Pete. You too, Y/N. Happy trails! Oh, and Merry Christmas!” Tony cheerily said before walking off, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Complete and utter silence. Your hands were still shaking and your breaths were slightly uneven, but you refused to show it even though you knew Peter probably already sensed it.

“Peter?” you said softly, warily.

“What?” His voice sounded strained with anger and you swallowed hard, not knowing where his anger had come from.

“Peter, you heard Tony,” you said, eyeing his next attempt to break down the door with a wince. “We’re not getting out until Friday tells him we’re good.” He gave a small grunt. “Peter,” you tried again, “we may as well try to work things out-“

“Yeah? Then he shouldn’t have forced this on us. Our relationship is none of his damn business,” he spat, surprising you. You knew he was angry; you just hadn’t expected him to verbalize it.

“Look, can we just pretend we’re back in the car?” you said desperately. “Pick up from there?”

Peter shook his head and slammed his fist against the door again. “Friday, tell Tony to let us out,” he demanded.

“Sorry Peter,” she answered, “but I was instructed not to do that.”

“Override it, then!” he exclaimed, and you could do nothing but watch as he slowly broke. “Code 156378.”

A pause. You flicked your eyes back and forth between your husband and the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Peter,” Friday said, sounding remorseful. “That code is no longer active.”

“Damn it!” Peter shouted, making you flinch. Never, in all your years of knowing Peter, had he acted out like this. He kicked the door with surprising force. “Tony, let us out!”

But no one came.

You sucked in a breath as Peter crumpled to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and breathing harshly. He rested his elbows on his knees and tangled his hands in his hair, successfully blocking off your view of his face.

“Peter?” you questioned, your voice gentle.

“I don’t like being trapped.” He sounded fifteen again, his voice hoarse after screaming for someone—anyone—to help him because he was stuck and there was a building on top of him but no one answered; no one answered because no one was around to hear him. But you heard him perfectly clear now.

You started moving toward him, heart clenching. “Peter, hey-“

“Stop,” he snapped, his voice taut and bitter again. “You’ll only make it worse.”

You knew it wasn’t personal; you knew he probably just needed space right now and that getting close might not be what he needed when he felt trapped, but it hurt. You stopped in your tracks and flinched, feeling the hot familiarity of tears build up in your eyes. Swallowing past the lump in your throat, you turned away and trekked back to the corner you were at before, this time as far away as you could get. Silence overtook the room again, and you spent the next few minutes not only holding back your tears but getting rid of them completely.

You didn’t feel like talking anymore.

The seconds ticked by, you counting the number of cracks in the walls while Peter eventually stood back up and leaned his weight on the door. He didn’t seem too intent on breaking it down anymore, probably coming to the same conclusion you had from the second the door closed: you weren’t getting out on anyone else’s terms but Tony’s.

“He was right,” Peter said from his place by the door, sounding tired. “We do need to talk about this.” He paused, looking down as if in shame. “And I’m...I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just...it’s a lot easier to do when my spidey senses have been going off for...well, you know. For a while. I was already on edge and this”—he gestured to the door—“didn’t make it any better. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, having accepting his apology from the first ‘I’m sorry’ but choosing not to mention it. “I don’t know what else to say, Peter. There’s nothing left to say.”

“Maybe not for you,” Peter said, respectively letting you keep your distance. “But for me...for me there’s everything left to say. I’m not asking you to say anything, just listen. Please.”

You didn’t answer, turning away from him and going to the nearby bookshelf to mindlessly scan the collection of...well, you weren’t sure what the books were. There wasn’t any one genre, but rather a mixture of them all. It fit Tony’s style in a ‘throwing similar kinds of clutter together until the pile had some semblance of organization’ type of way.

Peter took your silence as a go ahead, the first words to spill out of his mouth being, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t make this better, Peter,” you monotonously stated, knowing he wasn’t just talking about snapping anymore, fingering one of the more dusty books on the shelf.

“I know it doesn’t,” he agreed. “I know, but I thought it was a good place to start. So I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. Sorry doesn’t cut it, and I can’t say it enough times for it to even come close, but I am. I’m sorry. And you should know that.”

You swallowed and tipped the book back into place, rubbing your fingers together until the dust dissipated into the air, trying not to let that particular image stir up another, more disturbing one from the depths of your mind. Simple reminders like this were what made you stop yourself from taking back everything you said; it helped you remember why you brought up the subject of Spider-Man’s potential rest in the first place. Why you couldn’t just let it go.

Your hand subconsciously went to your stomach, protecting it even when there was nothing to protect it from. It was odd, it seemed, that for something you’d never touched or seen outside of a blurry black and white photo it was already affecting your life in such a monumental way. And you had a feeling that for as long as that little blob existed, it’d continue to change your entire life until the only thing that remained the same was the blood that ran through your veins.

“Y/N,” Peter said after the silence had been gnawing at the both of you for long enough, “I’ll stop.”

Those words made you freeze in place, your heart practically stopping as it skipped not only one beat, but several. You swallowed, trying to steady your voice as you spoke.

“I never asked that of you, Peter.”

“I know you didn’t,” Peter replied, coming closer. “I also know you never would, which is why I’m telling you that I’ll stop. So you don’t have to ask me.”

“Peter, that’s not-“

“I’ll give it up, Y/N—I’ll give it all up,” he said pleadingly.

“I don’t-“

“I’ll hang the suit up, I’ll put it in some box and stuff it in the back of our closet, I’ll tell Tony I’m done, I’ll tell everyone I’m done-“

“You don’t get it, Peter!” you snapped, flying up to your feet and spinning around to face him. He looked shocked at your outburst and his movement toward you came to a temporary halt. “You seriously don’t get it!”

He blinked. “I don’t understand-“

“Of course you don’t!” you exclaimed. “That’s what I’m saying! You don’t understand! You don’t get it! I never asked you to give up the suit! I never would! I never asked you to stop being an Avenger! I never would! It’s not what I want for you! It’s not what I want from you!”

“Then…” Peter said slowly, cautiously, “...what do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted!” you said, tears springing to your eyes. Peter flinched, his fingers twitching, aching to hold you. But he couldn’t. Not yet. “What I’ve wanted since high school! What I’ve wanted since you told me you were Spider-Man!”

Your husband frowned at your words, looking confused as he scoured his memories for something that would help him make the connections he needed. You shook your head.

“I want you to be careful,” you quietly said, your voice breaking. His head snapped up and his eyes refocused on you, narrowing in on the single tear that ran down your cheek. “I want you to stay away from as many dangerous missions possible, and, when it’s impossible, to not be so reckless and so self-sacrificing. Because every time you go out and some news channel is broadcasting the fight, all I can see is everything that could go wrong. I see you taking an unexpected hit; I see something dropping on you; I see you miscalculating a web swing and falling too fast. And I can’t take it!” you finished, your voice raising again.

Peter’s face was drawn into one of hurt, guilt, and concern. “Baby-“

“I get worried sick, Peter! And it doesn’t help to look away, because then I wonder if something’s happened and if that knock on my door is someone coming to tell me that my husband’s dead or that dinner is ready!” Peter flinched at that. “You can’t keep telling me that you’ll stop going on as many missions then turn around and volunteer to go on the very next one that comes along!” you continued. “You don’t realize what that does to me! You’re not a teenager anymore, and even if you were—dammit, Peter! Even if you were, I still need you! We-”

You stuttered to a halt, freezing for a moment. You swallowed and pushed away your anger and desperation as you shakily inhaled and placed your hand on your lower abdomen. Peter’s eyes tracked your movement, and a deeper confusion settled between his brows.

“Peter,” you said softly, bringing his attention back up to you. His brown eyes were darting all around your face, looking for answers that only you could confirm. “We need you.”

You don’t know how long it was silent for. It could’ve been seconds, minutes, hours—you didn’t know. Peter’s eyes were blown wide and unblinking, his entire body still. You wondered if he was even breathing.

Slowly you reached for your purse you’d been clutching so tightly to, rummaging through it for only a few moments before fingering what you needed. Pulling it out carefully so as not to disturb the silence or scratch the picture, you stood back up and offered it to your husband whose chest was indeed rising and falling, but in a rather jerky manner.

After a minute of simply staring at the white back, Peter reached out and took it. His hands were shaking as he turned it over, and your heart was racing in nerves and anticipation. You and Peter had always talked about starting a family, and you both wanted one, but you never talked about when or how soon. If he took this badly you didn’t know what you’d do—going to May seemed like the easiest option, but also the most illogical. After all, it was Peter who was her blood; she’d have to take his side. That wasn’t to say she wouldn’t try to knock some sense into him, but there was only so much one woman could do.

You licked your lips, hearing the nearby ticking of a  clock that only worsened your nerves the longer it went on. “Peter?”

As if your voice had snapped him out of his trance, Peter finally looked up at you. You were shocked to see tears flowing down his cheeks.

“You-“ he stuttered, his voice raw and cracking. “You’re—are you—this is-“

You slowly nodded, knowing what he was trying to get out. A resounding thump sounded across the room as Peter dropped to his knees in front of you and shakily removed your hand from your stomach, making you feel a bout of panic. Your unprotected abdomen made you instantly nervous, and your hand instinctively drew back to where it had been resting before. Peter stopped it halfway, lacing his fingers with yours as he took over the spot with his free hand.

His hand was warm and familiar, yet not in the way it usually was. It felt more loving, more protective, more...paternal.

“Hey there, little one,” Peter whispered so softly that if it hadn’t been as quiet as it was you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. “I’m-I’m your daddy. I’m sorry I wasn’t here before, but I am now. You’re never going to get rid of me. I’ll always be here for you. I promise. Mommy and I love you so much, bug. And I’m sorry.” Peter’s shoulders shook with a silent sob as he dropped his hand and hung his head in regret. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, and somehow you knew this time the apology wasn’t meant for your stomach.

You sank to your knees so you were at the same level as Peter and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into your touch before raising his head and looking at you. Both of you were crying, filled with such strong emotion that neither of you could express it with words.

You went in for the hug first, wrapping your arms around his neck and finding your place in the curve of his shoulder. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you closer, his hands tightly clutching the shirt on your back and his head resting on top of yours. You could feel his tears dropping onto your hair but you didn’t care, you didn’t care. Peter had made the promise you’d needed to hear all these years, not to you but to your baby. Your child. And somehow you knew that that meant a lot more than any promise he could’ve made to you.

“I love you,” Peter whispered into the silence.

You decided right then—with you and your husband both crying and embracing on the floor as you wordlessly conveyed your doubts and worries, your concern and guilt, your fears and frustration—that nothing was perfect, but that now, in that very moment, your definition of perfect had changed.

And this…this was perfection.

-

Promises Tag List: @mintaeroandmerlin @thehollandfam @trumpettay @ganggangganggg @secretagentben @rayanismybae* @yellowkenyon97 @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @shewhoshallnotswear @slytherpuffyy @mutuallynotmutual* @the-kylialovesyou 

Permanent Tag List: @lemirabitur @my-meant-to-find-blog @jongindeepbreath @tomspideyweb @farfromjustordinary @tomsstarlight @delicately-written @catstielanddeanthedog @tom-holland-and-textposts @spiderman-n @wtfholland @hollandandi @starsholland @celestialparker @beautiful-holland @spideycentral-1 @laurfangirl424 @yoinksholland @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @smexylemony @antifaspiderman @trashqueenbitch @fireboltrose7559 @propertyofmarvel @perhaps-he-schnapped @ofserien @mariemrose 

Let me know if you want to be added! 💕

[birminghamblinders]

baptism by fire; tommy shelby

Business is not an industry which lends itself to possessing an empathetic nature. Business is by design the striving to procure profits, and businesses which succeed do not do so through weaknesses and by making excuses for the shortcomings of themselves or of the various inferiors which make up their labor staff. Businessmen, then, as the main extension of this cognitive, innovative, cut-throat machine, are also not by nature kind-hearted or gentle. Choosing to enter into business means that one must be capable of making very calculated decisions with their own money and with the money of others. They also must see the parts of their company-and to many, employees often registered only as a moving part in a greater machine-as disposable when they are broken. Thus, although business does not generally allow for strong expressions of emotion, Tommy Shelby believed there were “no hard feelings” when he had to release a person from his employment. He held no personal vendetta against the ex-employee, and did even earnestly hope they would realize the error of their focused labor and once again find fruitful employment elsewhere. But conversely, he would note to himself the error of his ways in allowing an employee of less-than-acceptable caliber to be hired, and would remember what traits made that person useless in the future.

Tommy had to let people go and hire new people on a fairly regular basis. He generally believed in hiring younger people to do menial labor, on the idea that they would have more energy and thus be able to execute these tasks over a larger spread of hours. The past month, however, Tommy had fired two young men or about twenty, who had been hired for menial labor but had proven to be prone to slacking off on the job. He bore no ill will to them, and in parting mentioned a shipping company which operated out of dock forty-three which was hiring, in the genuine if not deeply-felt hope they would reform and become contributing members of society.

Besides, Tommy had larger things to worry about than the performance of workers who neared the bottom of the Shelby Company food chain. In merely three weeks, if all went well, he was going to recite his wedding vows to the love of his life in the full and unyielding gaze of their pastor and before the gentle eyes of God. Tommy and his soon-to-be wife endeavored to make their wedding as small an affair as was possible, only extending invitations to those who they actually, truly wanted to he there. Eliminating the menial made the whole thing blessedly easy to plan, and he found himself mainly concerned with planning out the right words to say to his life partner when she arrived at the altar.

—

Thankfully, the wedding went as smoothly as any Tommy had ever attended, and the flurry of the day seemed to end as quickly as it began. When he settled into bed next to his newly acquired wife that night, slipping a gentle arm around her waist, he even entertained the fantasy that the wedding had taken away so little of his concentration from work that he might be able to take a few days and have a honeymoon of sorts with her.

This was not the case, as both the legal and illegal enterprises of the Shelby Company were growing at a seemingly exponential rate. He was no sooner able to take a few days off without consequences as he was to grow wings. His wife, the young, pretty, tough creature she was, shrugged this slight off, and told her husband he had things he needed to do for the good of his family, and that said family also included her now, and so he had better get to work. Guilted by his inability to properly celebrate his wedding with his wife, but also emboldened by her strong words of encouragement, Tommy dove right back into the chaos of the Company, cutting deals on firearms and horse races in equal stride.

Unbeknownst to either man or wife, the two young men who had just a short while ago been terminated from Shelby company employment had not shrugged it off as a loss of low-level job of which there were plenty in Small Heath, but had instead chosen to interpret it as a personal slight and a middle finger directly from Tommy Shelby. As uneducated as their interpretation of a routine firing might have been, they were not so ignorant as to think they could exact revenge on their perceived enemy in a face to face interaction with him. They instead chose to focus on his weaknesses, and despite the whole thing being a low-level affair, there was no one in Birmingham who didn’t know Tommy Shelby had recently gotten married.

—

The two young men whom Tommy had fired were not in possession of any particularly great intellect, or capability to plan a complex kidnapping and ransom plot, but part of the reason they were hired initially was that they possessed plenty of brute strength. It would seem fairly reasonable that considering her relatively high profile relation to the Shelby family that there would be some type of protection for Tommy’s wife, but she had insisted on being allowed to live independently. As often occurs, there was no real hindsight considered with this decision until it had already generated negative consequences. Tommy’s wife did not work for the Company, and after their marriage continued her job as a secretary for the largest newspaper in the city. It was on a fairly cold morning, while she was walking to begin her shift, that the two ex-lackeys of the Company grabbed her and dragged her out of the sight of the few other passers-by that were on the street that early in the day.

On the days which Tommy was not able to finish his workload in time to be home for dinner (which were fairly plenty), he would just sleep in his office, wake up early, and continue. These were all circumstances which the two ex-lackeys were aware of; though the Company employed plenty people, most of them got their orders from Tommy or one of this brothers and were in and out of the office daily, and knew the movements of the main heads of the Company. They didn’t know exactly on that day that Tommy would work late and stay in the office, but they were willing to take their luck.

Due to the circumstances of their both being employed in highly demanding jobs, and sometimes not being able to wake up together or eat dinner together, Tommy and his wife always spent at least an hour on the phone each day. This usually happened around noon, which left the two wanna-be criminals four hours before Tommy Shelby discovered his wife was missing.

They had, it so happened, taken his suggestion, and sought employment at the loading station at dock forty-three. This particular dock mainly handled night time shipments coming in from the United States or Canada, and so the two decided that with a little duct tape over the face, and ropes holding her arms back, it would be as good a place as any to keep Mrs. Shelby.

—

As it happened, the two men, who were not exactly in possession of god-like intelligence, got the timing right. They had her for four hours before her husband realized something was wrong with her. He called her office at noon, and was received by the voice of her supervisor, who told him his wife had not come into work that day.

At the same moment as Tommy leaned back to yell for his brothers, Polly came into the room and absentmindedly remarked that the postman had left something for him as she dropped a letter onto his desk. Dread built up in his chest as he stared at the sloppily folded paper, and he grabbed hold of the letter and nearly tore it open in his haste. The would-be kidnappers were not elegant nor were they educated, and so their ransom note was not exactly a masterpiece of the English written word.

Tommy Shelby, it read,

We have your wife. Come to dock forty three as soon as you get this. Bring ten thousand pounds with you and you will get her back alive. If you call the police we will know. Don’t bring a gun.

The letter was not signed, and as Tommy’s two eldest brothers crowded their way into the room, the middle Shelby son swore loudly and launched an ink pot against the room, where it shattered against the window and left dark black tracks down the glass.

“Some fuckers took my wife,” he informed them in a violently calm voice. “Get your coats and your guns. We’re going now.”

—

Upon arrival at the specified dock, the faded painting sign reading “43” swinging violently in the sudden gust of wind that had arisen off the waters, Tommy gestured for John and Arthur to stand back.

“I’ll call you when I need you,” he spoke quickly, and indicated for them to stand just out of sight of the door of the loading area, still close enough by to be of immediate assistance if needed.

Tommy grabbed the handle of the door and launched it open, bursting into the large, open room with his gun pointed straight ahead. At the same time as he gained his bearings, he heard a pistol cocking, and found he was looking at a gun pressed to the side of his wife’s head.

Tommy had been in the war, and had seen more men die than he ever cared to speak about. He was used to carnage, and hadn’t flinched at the sight of blood in years. At the sight of his wife with a gun pressed to her head, however, his own blood ran cold.

He felt his breath coming in shorter and shorter intervals, and he had to control himself to keep from hyperventilating, as his wife, a gag stuffed in her mouth, started crying at the sight of him, and leaning towards him as if to beg him to get her out of here,only to be grabbed roughly by the neck and shoved back into her chair by another man, who stepped out of the corner only for that brief moment before vanishing from Tommy’s sight again.

Tommy stopped short, only about four feet from the door he had burst from, and was so dazed by the sight before him he had to force himself to focus as the man holding the gun began to speak.

“We told you specifically not to bring a gun. Didn’t you read the fucking letter? Put that shit down. Where’s my money?”

Tommy still found himself unable to fully compute the situation before him, and so fell back on his usual bravado, scoffing at the man’s question even while wildly searching for a plan.

“I didn’t bring your ten thousand pounds. What were you going to spend it on, whores and cocaine? You’re a piece of shit. You’re going to give me my wife back and you’re going to apologize for the trouble you’ve caused the Shelby Company.”

Another man stepped out of the shadows, loudly swearing at Tommy, and he couldn’t believe the sense of these two useless criminals as they both started walking towards him, leaving his wife unguarded and making it far too easy for him to raise his gun once again and expel a hail of bullets on them, aiming for the head and then adding ten more in just for good measure and as repayment for the insolence of daring to touch his wife.

As he turned to face her, still bound to her chair, tears rolling down her cheeks, he felt his heart stop again as he sprinted to her, pulling the gag out of her mouth and untying the ropes from her wrists all while speaking to her frantically, begging for forgiveness.

“I’m so damn sorry, my love, I should never have let you walk around alone, I should have had a man with you all the time, I should have known someone was going to try something with you, I’m so fucking sorry-“ and broke himself off with a sob, curling into her shoulder.

He felt her take a deep breath and wrap her arms around him, stroking his back as he cried like a child into her arms, terrified by the ease at which two bumbling idiots were able to endanger the person closest to his heart.

She began to console him quietly, his sobs still echoing around the empty room, and Tommy could almost feel her grow harder, more tough, more like a Shelby.