#SIX HOURS OF AGONIZED SOBBING HEARD FROM MY HOME

[nyxofdemons]

do you ever think about how fiercely stolas loves octavia and need to curl up in a ball and scream for hours or are you normal

[whump-a-la-mode]

❥, +, ●

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

Am I took late to the ask game? <:o

No worries at all about being late! This is for the caretaking ask game (I believe). I had to dig a little to find this one, but here are the prompts for this ask:

❥ - barefoot, sleepy wanderings

+ - being led back to bed with patient whispers

●  - being called soft things like baby, sweetheart or honey

Thank you so much for the ask! I did my best to incorporate all three, so I hope you enjoy!

CW//Implied past whipping, medication mention

“Whumpee! Whumpee, it’s okay!”

The sound of Caretaker’s voice was all but drowned out by the clattering of bare feet on tile, and, of course, the horrid sound of hyperventilation. That didn’t stop them from trying, however.

“Whumpee!”

If anything, their begging only made their ward flee faster. Briefly, Whumpee disappeared from their caretaker’s sight as they tore around a corner, from the home’s kitchen into its living room. There, with their footsteps muffled, their quickened breaths and shuddered sobs took center stage.

But, in their frightened mind, so it seemed, they had forgotten something rather crucial: The living room had only the one entrance. It was a dead end.

This realization was made only an instant before they ran into the wall, at which point Whumpee skidded to a stop, swirling about on a heel.

The look in their eyes made Caretaker’s heart shatter to splinters.

Terror. There was nothing else to it. No tiny hint of hope, or even of anger. Simply terror. Horrible, milky terror, accompanying quivering lips, and eyelids that at already begun to bead with tears.

It was exactly as they had appeared, all those weeks ago, in that basement. Back when they were thin as a stick. Back when they flinched at the sound of a voice. When their wrists were so thin that their restraints dangled like hoop earrings. When there wasn’t an inch of unmarred skin upon their back.

It was as if they were back there, all over again.

Of course, they weren’t. Everything had been going so well! They’d gained weight, gained confidence, and the wide, open wounds open their body had begun to close into thin scars. A few hours ago, they’d been just fine. They’d taken their meds, gotten into their pajamas, and gone to bed.

And, now, they were acting as though they’d never escaped at all.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Caretaker spoke as softly as they could manage, with their voice still being heard. “It’s okay. It’s me. It’s Caretaker. You’re in my house, okay, sweetheart?”

If their ward was comforted by their words, they did not show it. In fact, their reaction was rather the opposite. They stumbled backwards, spine pressing against the wall. They moved until they were flush with the corner, without an inch more to move away.

“Shh, shh.” They whispered. “It’s okay. You’re okay, baby.”

Caretaker took the slightest step forward, but backed up as soon as Whumpee let out a screeching whine. They buried their face in their hands, sobs wracking their body as they wailed. As their cries increased in volume, their knees began to tremble, before, eventually, they collapsed.

There, in the corner, they held their shivering legs to their chest, hiding their tear-stained face.

This wasn’t going to work, Caretaker realized in that moment. After so long in Whumper’s captivity, they had lost any and all trust for anyone. And, if they believed themself to be back in that terrible place, then that was likely the case once more.

With a weary sigh, Whumpee’s caretaker sat. They gave perhaps six feet of room between themself and their ward. Plenty of room to breathe, and to run, if they so desired. But, so that they could still see them clearly.

“I’ll be right here.” They assured. “I won’t move a muscle. I promise, honey.”

And, they did not.

For half an hour, thirty agonizing minutes, they sat. It took all that time for Whumpee to recover from their nightmare-- it must have been positively horrid to have frightened them so badly. But, once they had run out of tears, and energy to shiver, they slowly raised their head from between their knees, daring to look out at the world beyond. The world beyond the safety of their little corner.

“Caretaker?” It was such a soft, meek word, their voice utterly ruined by sobs.

Caretaker gave the warmest smile they could muster.

“Yeah, Whumpee.” They whispered. “It’s me. It’s Caretaker.”

“Where...”

“You had a nightmare.”

“Wh- Whumper-”

“No.” They nipped that terror in the bud. “Whumper is long gone. It’s me. Caretaker. We’re in my house, okay?”

They did not move, terrified of startling their ward back into their nervous state. Instead, they gently tapped the carpet in front of themself.

“You wanna come here? It’s still night time. Do you wanna go back to bed?”

After a long moment of thought, Whumpee nodded, crawling over to where Caretaker sat and leaning up against their chest. Strong, confident arms pulled them into a fireman’s carry.

That time, when Caretaker tucked Whumpee into bed, they slept the night away peacefully.

[guardianofrivendell]

Oh Deer (request)

Legolas x reader

Requested: Yes! @lotr-th-nin-meleth​ asked “Hey! Could I get a Legolas x Reader where the reader is caring for an injured baby deer she found in the forest and she's usually really gruff and cold and keeps to herself? So Legolas gets all soft watching her be soft and she asks him for help or something you can choose and he's just all flustered and it's cute. Thank you xxx”

A/N: I switched it up a bit, hope you don’t mind! I also skipped the ‘old’ Westron Legolas usually speaks, to make it easier for me. Because I can do that.

Warnings: one soft curse word, mentions of blood, Legolas in love (yes, that needs its own warning)

“You are remarkably quiet today,” Legolas said to you after almost half an hour of silence.  You didn’t say anything back, eyes scanning the forest around you. Legolas shook his head. There was just no way to distract you, always focused on the task you’d been given. 

You were part of the Guard of Mirkwood. From the very beginning you had proven to be an exceptionally good fighter. Every mission you were sent on turned out succesful and with no casualties, so it didn’t take long for you to be allowed to go on even more dangerous missions.  Even though you had an impressive record, being an Elleth made it extra hard. It didn’t matter how skilled you were and that you’d showed more than once that you were tougher than most of the other guards, they still belittled you for being female. So when you were on duty, you put on a facade: stern expression, cold stare and not a sound unless you were spoken to. 

Despite your gruff facade, the Prince of Mirkwood had taken a liking to you. Not that you noticed; after all, you were too busy proving your worth.  Legolas made sure he was assigned to your group on patrols or vice versa - not that he didn’t have a choice, being Prince and all - and always suggested your name when there was a two-person job. All very subtle of course.

Today had been no different. There had been a sighting of a few Orcs wandering the forest, not that far from the palace. Thranduil instructed him to send a few guards to go and solve the problem. Those ‘few guards’ turned into Legolas and you. 

And now you were making your way through the forest, hunting some Orcs, with Legolas by your side who was desperately trying to make conversation. 

“You are allowed to speak, Y/N. It’s only me.” “Yes, only you... Don’t you think it’s rather strange our King sent only two guards? How many Orcs were seen again?” “Enough to handle ourselves, do not worry.” You scoffed. “I’m not worried, you know damn well that I could take them on my ow-” A sound in the distance made you cut off your sentence. Legolas heard it too, and you signaled him to climb the trees.

You both jumped from one tree to another with ease, until you reached a small clearance. There you could see about a dozen Orcs, most of them taking a rest, a few trying to make a fire to keep the spiders away. You signaled to Legolas to stay put, while you made your way to the other side of the clearance. 

He rolled his eyes at that. Shouldn’t it be him telling you what to do? But he listened anyway and waited for your signal. In his mind he was already planning how to attack the pack, thinking he could easily kill 4 or 5 Orcs from where he was hiding before making his way down the tree. This was almost too easy. 

A screech in the distance made the Orcs jump up and 3 of them disappeared in the woods, running past the tree you were hiding in. It seemed like the pack hadn’t been complete. You waved to Legolas, signaling you would go after them. Before he could protest, you were gone.  Why did you always have to prove yourself? He had no visuals anymore, but he could hear how your feet touched the ground. Your fight had begun. 

In one swift movement he took his bow and notched an arrow, and shot the Orc closest to him. Before he let himself drop down, he killed two more. He smirked to the six remaining Orcs and switched his bow for his two blades.  “Let us begin,” he muttered.

*

It was over in less than ten minutes. They didn’t even put up a real fight, Legolas thought.  Probably too exhausted from wandering through the forest for so long. He looked around but couldn’t see any sign of you, not even with his Elven eyes. Suppressing the slight rush of panic he felt, he began to look for you. You were tough. There was no way you couldn’t handle a handful of exhausted Orcs by yourself, he kept repeating in an attempt to reassure himself.

He ran through the forest, fighting the urge to call out your name. The last thing he wanted was to alert anything else of his presence.  “Legolas!” He halted immediately, frantically looking around him in an attempt to locate you. This was not a good sign, he thought. You knew how dangerous it was to draw attention to you this deep in the forest. It could only mean one thing... “LEGOLAS!” He tried to ignore the despair in your voice, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of your scream.  After a few agonizing minutes he found you hunched over on your knees. “Y/N?”

When you turned around, his heart stopped. Your hands were covered in blood. Red, not black, he realized.   He fell to his knees at your side, his eyes searching your body for injuries. “Where are you hurt?” Your tunic was no longer a lighter green, but stained with a dark red. He tried to remain calm for your sake, on the inside he was definitely freaking out. You didn’t answer him, and burst into tears instead.  “You’re going to be okay,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Everything is going to be okay.” He put an arm under your knees and around your waist and lifted you up with the utmost care, but you stopped him.  “Y/N, I have to get you back home. Just... please, let me take care of you.” “It’s not mine,” you said in between sobs, pointing to your drenched clothes.  “What happened?” Legolas asked, completely lost by now. He sat down on his knees with you still in his arms. If he wasn’t feeling so helpless at the moment, he would enjoy holding you this close. It felt nice. “I-...” You tried to take a long breath to calm down so you could tell him what was going on, but it only made it worse. Legolas rubbed your back softly until you found your voice again, relieved it seemed to help a little. “I-... I didn’t mean to hurt him!”

Legolas looked at you questioningly. Him? He scanned your surroundings but couldn’t see anyone.  You got up from his lap and took a few steps away from him, motioning him to follow you. He had to keep himself from taking your hand.  You took another ten steps and crouched down. Legolas heard you sniffling again.  What he saw in front of your feet, was probably the last thing he expected to see. A small deer, probably still a baby, lay on the ground. A large gap in his side, clearly your work. 

“Oh,” he sighed, finally understanding why you were so upset. The deer had definitely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. A laugh escaped his throat. You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he really laughing at you?  When he saw you were annoyed at him, he shook his head.

“Y/N you really are curious. Slaying Orcs, killing off spiders, you don’t bat an eye. Doesn’t affect you in the slightest. But an injured deer got you all upset?”  You felt the blood rise in your cheeks. Was it your fault you just really loved the forest animals? Someone had to take care of them, so why not you? You noticed him staring at you, a certain emotion in his eyes you could not seem to read. “What?” you asked him. “You’re cute... I mean-,” Legolas corrected himself too late. “It’s cute, the deer... is cute.”

You didn’t say anything back and Legolas cursed himself.  “You know what, let’s take it with us to the palace. I’m sure our Healers could do something for him,” he suggested. He wasn’t entirely sure they could do that, but if it would make you feel better...  “Are you sure we can do that?” “Of course we can, I’m the Prince.” He winked at you, and lifted the deer into his arms. You rolled your eyes at his cockiness. He was nothing like his father. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely.  “Anything for you...”

A/N: Aaaaaah, I’m so bad at endings 🙈 I wanted something smart or funny, maybe I’ll change it later on if I can think of something. Sorry!

A/N part 2: It’s at times like these that I curse myself for not being a native English speaker. So sorry that my writing feels a little forced sometimes, but that’s mostly because of my lack of English vocabulary or because I can’t think of another way to say things and Google Translate can only do so much. So why not write in my own language you ask? Well... I don’t think there are a lot of Flemish (or Dutch) speaking Tumblr users waiting for Flemish lotr fics :)

[babybottlepop96]

Basement (Levi Ackerman)18+ Only

Summary: Levi saves you from an abusive Ex.

Warnings: Abusive relationship, Yandereish situations, graphic depictions of blood, death, murder, weapon use

This is for @welcometotheclubhoe ‘s all around the world collab

A/N: Thank you for letting me apart of this and thank you @spellcasterlight for beta reading this!

WC:1584 "I did this for you." He spoke, his hand trailing down your red, tear soaked cheeks. His thumb lightly running along your bottom lip, swollen and bruised from his insistent kisses. 

"But why?" You managed to choke out, throat raw from crying.

"I love you and he wasn't good for you, (y/n)!" His voice rising in anger from just the thought of your abusive boyfriend.

~~~

You cowered in the bathroom after another fight with your boyfriend, Erwin. You had approached him, yet again, about his drinking habit. Missing the days before he lost his business, the days where he would take you out every weekend to either dance or have a romantic dinner. The days where you would cuddle on the couch and watch the worst B rated horror movies you could find. The nights where your bodies were covered in a sheet of glistening sweat, chest heaving as he hovers above you, eyes looking at you with admiration as you both cling to each other, thrusting against one another with silent words of love and praise.

Those are the days you wanted back, those are the days you once lived for.

But everything changed that night, things were broken, the picture of the two of you on your one year anniversary now laid shattered on the hardwood floor. Harsh words hissed towards you, “You inconsiderable bitch! Don’t you care that my life is ruined?! You have no right to say anything!” Ribs were bruised as his foot collided against your side, sending an agonizing pain throughout your trembling body as you held yourself, desperate to hold back the vomit that threatened to expel from your mouth. You went to the only person you knew you could talk to, the only person who knew Erwin better than you did, Levi. Levi had been best friends with Erwin since they were wearing diapers, Levi knew Erwin like he knew the best tea shops and cleaning supplies in town. They were basically brothers and Levi was furious at Erwin for treating you the way he had, but you made Levi, you begged Levi, to not do anything or say a word about this. Levi reluctantly agreed, having been harboring feelings for you for years now. But he was furious at himself for introducing you to his best friend when he wanted you for himself. Besides, he trusted Erwin then, he was sure Erwin would've been the most amazing person for you, but now? All he wanted to do was put his best friend six feet under in an unmarked grave. 

Every night from then on, you called Levi, crying. Crying about the words Erwin would say to you, calling you pathetic and worthless. Crying about how every night you would worry yourself about his whereabouts just for him to come home, reeking of alcohol, hitting you when you tried to voice your concerns. Crying about how much you missed the old Erwin, how much you wanted that Erwin back. How you still loved him even though he gave you every reason to hate him.

Levi listened, his own heart aching for you. His mind tells you to run away to be with him. He voiced that once, offering you to stay with him, to escape from the toxic environment that you once felt safe in. Somewhere far away, away from the heartache that was Erwin Smith. But you refused, adamant on staying, believing that you and only you could bring the old Erwin back. It broke Levi's heart that night. It tore his heart in two hearing how you still wanted to be with a man who abused you emotionally, mentally and physically. 

And then that fateful night happened, the night where Levi got a call from you, voice barely above a whisper. "Levi? Levi! Please! Please help me! I'm so scared!" You quietly sobbed into the phone, Levi already out the door, keys in his hand.

When Levi had to resort to kicking the front door of your shared home with Erwin down, he knew things were going to be bad. He heard Erwin yelling down the hall and made his way there, finding him yelling and pounding away at the bathroom door. Your sobs coming through the splintering wood between each hard pound. Erwin's knuckles were bloodied, whether it was his own or yours, Levi didn't care. You were scared and he was going to save you. 

Levi tried to calm Erwin down, he really did, but once Erwin brandished the kitchen knife he had in his other hand and made a dash for Levi, he had no choice. He drew his gun and before anyone had time to react, before Levi himself had time to think,  it went off, hitting his best friend right in the chest with impeccable accuracy. He collapsed on the floor, holding the wound in his hand as he drowned in his own blood. The blonde gurgling on the thick, sticky liquid was the only sound filling the home before he took his last breath, collapsing on the floor in a puddle of his own red fluids.

You opened the door a few seconds later and screamed as your boyfriend’s blood continued to pool around his cold lifeless body. Crawling over to him, you placed his head in your lap, angrily looking at Levi as tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Levi had to forcibly remove you from the floor, leaving Erwin's now limp and lifeless body on the floor, taking you back to his place. 

~~~

"You… you did all this," motioning around the room under his home. The basement that he had spent countless hours cleaning and disinfecting, de-bugging, just for you. The room he filled with your favorite colors and small knick-knacks he thought you would like, stuffed animals on a queen sized bed and movies filled the tall, dark brown shelves he installed. Just for you. "You killed Erwin, my boyfriend, your best friend, your brother, just for me?" You were so confused, between knowing Erwin was no longer the man you loved and still loving him even through all the shit he put you through, you didn't know how to react. 

You were angry at Levi, he killed the only guy you really seemed to love, but you were also thankful for him. He saved you from a quest you could not complete because the old Erwin was already too far gone to be saved. 

"You're safe now, (y/n)." Levi spoke gently to you. You looked up at the man who seemed to show no sign of remorse for killing his lifelong friend, but instead his eyes showed worry, concern and love for you. You're all he has ever wanted and now he has you. He was a killer, but he was your hero. Saved you from Erwin and yourself because you knew you would have never had the balls to leave him.

You flung yourself onto Levi, knocking the two of you back onto the freshly cleaned carpet underneath. Your lips met his in a wet, sloppy kiss. Coming together like two missing pieces of a puzzle, not even the events of what had just happened minutes before could ruin what was happening. Levi gripped the back of your head and the back of your shirt, pulling you impossibly closer to him as he kissed back. Your hands gripped the front of his ironed white shirt, now wrinkled and stained with blood of your deceased boyfriend. This felt so terribly wrong, kissing the man who killed Erwin, his best friend, but nothing has ever felt so right either. Levi was always the one you ran to when Erwin was hurting you, Levi was the one who offered to take you away from the abusive relationship, Levi was the one who saved you. Levi saved you, he would've died for you, he killed for you. Maybe it was Levi all along, the one who you should've been with. The one who you should've chosen since the beginning, someone whom you had a small crush on when you first met him but decided on the blonde instead.

You pulled away from Levi, looking straight into his steel grey eyes. "I was wrong." You whispered just centimeters from his lips.

"What are you talking about?" He asked as he caressed your cheeks.

"I was wrong for choosing Erwin. It should've been you, it was always you Levi. I was just too blinded by my own heart to see you, right in front of me, the whole damn time. I'm so sorry." Levi then brought you in for another passionate kiss, flipping you over and running hands up and down your sides. 

"I love you, (y/n)." He said as he started to nip at your neck, nimble fingers swiftly lifting your shirt over your head.

"I… I love you too, Levi." You repeated his action and took his shirt off, running your fingers over his toned stomach, tracing scars from childhood and sport related injuries. "There is nowhere that I'd rather be than with you, right here, right now. Even if we had to stay in this basement for the rest of our lives, I don't think I could ever be happier."

So you and Levi spent the next few hours in that basement, the basement where you found yourself in love with the man who saved you, even if that same man was now a killer. He was yours and you now belonged to him.

[noyashighlight]

My little dove

Child!Suna x Mother!Reader

Warning: Angst, death.

A/n: was reading a manga and listening to “fourth of July” by Sufjan Stevens when I thought of this idea.

“ Could you at least try to make some time for your family? Rintarō and I miss you- yes I understand work is important but so is your fam- That asshole!! I can’t believe he just hung up on me. “ you huffed softly shoving your phone into your purse feeling defeated, not having a use for it anymore. It was a typical Wednesday currently as you and Rintarō rode in the back of a black Limo going to drop him off at daycare before going off to work. You had just gotten off the phone with the sorry excuse of a husband and father, the man being a total workaholic.

Rintarō opened his eyes widely hearing you curse for the first time in front of him. “ Mommy who were you on the phone with? Also, mommy what’s an asshole?” The innocent four-year-old said the curse word with such ease and purity, that no one could be upset with him. Scooping him up into your lap hugging him against your chest, he looked like a spitting image of his father but with bright eyes full of life. Your son was the best thing to have happened to you during this loveless marriage.

The boy's father had one goal from this marriage and it was to produce an heir for the family company who would take over once it was their time. You were a knowing pawn in this all, but at least you could keep the man you love close to you with this marriage. It was draining though not only being an emotional support for your child but also keeping your own mental health in check.

Smiling you peppered kisses his plump cheeks, he was the cutest child ever. “ My little dove, that’s a bad word that you shouldn’t say okay? You can never say curses or Santa is going to be upset with you.” If only you could have taken a picture of his face, mouth wide with shock. Other than you, Santa was the only person he looked up to. “ I was talking to your father..” you kept it short and sweet not wanting to trouble your child. Maybe it was cause he was getting older or just sharp in general he frowned at the mention of his dad.

“ I don’t like daddy, he’s scary!” He shouted shoving his head into your chest hiding as of his father was present. It shocked you that even your son felt his cold gaze. Even if you resented him you didn’t want Rin to feel upset with his father and never build a relationship. “ What do you mean you don’t like daddy? Don’t you have a good time when dad comes home and we go out to eat dinner?”

He rapidly shook his then pulled your face down so he could whisper in your ear, probably not wanting the driver to hear. “ No, I like it better when it’s just us Mommy when daddy is here you never smile or make me laugh! Daddy is always like this.” He made a face his eyes relaxing and no sign of emotion on his face, he looked like a carbon copy. 

To cover up your giggles you covered your mouth with your hands. Who knew your toddler could be so hilarious. At that moment the limo came to a stop indicating it was time for him to go. “ Well, my little dove we can have dinner together after I pick you up okay? If you’re extra good today I can sneak you a cookie before daddy tucks you in.” You kiss him on the head as the driver opens the door. Little Rintarō looked so adorable with his little backpack as he walked back to you while using his other hand to hold his teacher's hand.

-

“ Why do you coddle him so much y/n? He’s not a baby anymore and needs to start growing up. You’re so insolent when it comes to your motherly duties!” A now six-year-old Suna heard his father's voice boom down the hallway, rubbing his eyes he slowly got out of bed to see the commotion. Peaking his head out of the hallway he sees you and his dad sitting at the table. You looking down at your lap, it was visible you were shaking from trying not to cry loudly. A site he was used to this his household, his father never yelled in front of Rin.

“ He’s not too old for his mother to love him! I’m just trying to be a good mom, what about you? Do you even know his favorite color or what kind of cereal he prefers. “ you fought back at least trying not to be a doormat anymore, it was fine if he wouldn’t love you but he wasn’t just going to treat your son like some stranger. Not wanting his parents to fight anymore he walked into the dining room holding his blanket that was the cause of this argument.

“ Daddy, why did you make mommy cry again?” The two adults froze in their actions hearing the soft voice, he walked over to you and hugged you even though you were sitting. Climbing into your lap he glared at his father. “ You’re a bad man daddy! You always make mommy sad, when mommy is sad I get sad.” Hearing your young child stand up for you made your heartache, he really was your anchor even though you were the parent.

-

“ Mom why’d you come today?” Suna said raising his eyebrows as he got into the back of the limo, the now thirteen-year-old looked very handsome. Since he had gotten older it was rare for you to pick him up, but sadly you couldn’t make it to his volleyball game yesterday due to work so this was your way of making it up to him. You sometimes wondered if he got any of his genes on his outside appearance from you. “ Well, I thought you and I could get ice cream after school before we go have dinner with your dad.” You smiled smoothing out his hair, he leaned into your touch.

Your son smirked mischievous mirroring your smile, “ He’s gonna be pissed when he sees the driver took us to get ice cream before dinner. Why don’t we take a walk around the park to, make him wait a bit longer at the table.” Your husband had his hands full with you two being absolute trouble makers, he could never break the bond you two shared though it was his fault for his neglect.

Two hours later Rintarō received a call from his angry tell him that he’s been at the restaurant for over an hour. “ Sorry Sir, we’re on our way.” He held back his laughter. Rin never called his father in a loving tone anymore to him he was an empty shell of a dad. After getting off the phone you two look at each other bursting out in a laugh, soon quieting down feeling the sleepiness after eating all of that ice cream. Rin rested his head on your shoulder, your child was now taller than you and still growing.

“ Mom, can you sing that song, that you used to hum?” You thought he has fallen asleep he was silent for so long. The young male hasn’t asked you to sing in years, though you were happy to accept his request anyway. The song wasn’t a happy one but your soft voice made it a gentle lullaby.

“ Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head was it all a disguise, like Junior High. Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction. Now, where am I? My fading supply. Did you get enough love, my little dove? Why do you cry? And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best though it never felt right. My little Versailles, Shall we look at the moon, my little loon. Why do you cry? Make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light.” His breathing slowed signaling to you he had fallen asleep, it would be a pain to wake him up when you guys arrived to the restaurant but for now it was peaceful.

Suddenly the limo tumbled, Suna’s eyes shot open feeling his body being thrown multiple times. As quick as it happened it had come to a stopped the limo feeling less spacious. His body ached feeling glasses shard pricking his back as now he was laughing on the window, the vehicle on its side. Looking up was you on top of him caging him in like you were shielding with your own body. “ Are you okay?” You croaked out, blood trickling down from the side of your mouth. You looked pale and almost lifeless but still kept a warm smile not wanting your precious child to panic. You caressed his cheek softly glad he only had a few scratches. You frowned a bit seeing him now crying. He must have been hurt.

“ Don’t cry my little dove, help will be here soon to get you out of this.” You cooed wiping the tears escaping his eyes. “They are going to get us both out of here right mom?” He cried out with pleading eyes seeing you turn paler as the minutes passed. How could you tell him the truth that you were going to make it? You kept eye contact with him not wanting him to look down, because if he did he would see you were being pierced by a sharp metal-like object. Just the sheer worry that your son needed help kept you going.

You nodded your head slowly with a sweet smile, “ Of course, we are going to be okay.” You started hearing the sirens in the distance, feeling relieved they weren’t going to take long seeing as you were running out of time. “ You were always a bad liar mom, always saying you’re okay when you aren’t. “ he saw right through you, why wouldn’t he after all he was your best friend and son.

Letting out a soft chuckle even though it hurt you pressed a kiss on his forehead, “ I love you my little dove, make sure the old man gets you all the ice cream you want after you get all patched up or give him hell.” It was time to go, the feeling left your legs long ago now your body was feeling more peaceful.

“ Mom please don’t go, you’re all I have! You can’t leave me in this world with the old geezer! Please mom just stay awake a little longer!” He sobbed uncontrollably as he felt your thump lifelessly on his chest, he hopes his loud cries and shouts would keep you awake just like when he was a child wanting your attention. He let out an agonizing scream hearing the ambulances park, not cause he was hurting from his injuries no because he had just lost the most important person to him in the world.

-

Suna Rintarō’s eyes were cold and half-lidded as he stood at your funeral, the picture of you smiling staring back at him. He looked just like his father more than ever. Losing you meant he lost one of his reasons to smile, no one could replace the love of his mother.

“ Rin it’s time to go.” His father’s voice wasn’t so stern today, making Rintarō angry. His father didn’t have the right to be sad when he was one of the reasons you had cried so much. Well, he wasn’t going to take over this stupid company one day, remember how you would cheer him on to the games you would attend made his chest ache. Volleyball was his passion, he would succeed and make you proud no matter what.

-

And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best though it never felt right.....

[fruitcoops]

Hi hello I would love to know more about this tidbit from your oher fic? “Three months after we moved in together, Remus slept on the couch for a week because he hated the way I left toothpaste on the sink.” “I wasn’t even angry about the toothpaste.” Remus got up to refill Leo’s water glass. “I was scared we were moving too fast and that everything would fall apart.” pretty please with puppy dog eyes?

Anything for you, Beyonce! Hope you enjoy your trip on the angst train >:)

Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for couples arguments, self-isolation, mild anxiety

Day 1

“Oh my god, Sirius.” Remus shoved his toothbrush back in the holder more aggressively than he probably needed to. His hands were shaking, though whether it was from rage or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“What?”

“Really? Again?”

“What?” Sirius asked again. He had the nerve to sound truly bewildered and the bed creaked as he stood up. “What did I do?”

“You left the toothpaste uncapped and it’s all over the sink,” Remus sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late to fight about this.

Sirius gave him a look. “Re, there’s literally one smudge.” He swiped it away with his thumb. “There. Better?”

“No, it’s not better. I told you I hate it when you do that.”

“Are you okay? You seem…upset.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he snapped. Sirius recoiled at his tone and he bit back a second retort. “Look, I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“What—sweetheart—”

“Don’t call me sweetheart, okay?” Remus grabbed a fresh set of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt out of the dresser. He couldn’t handle being surrounded by Sirius’ smell right now. “Just…not tonight.”

 Day Two

They ate breakfast silently. Every ping of Sirius’ spoon against his cereal bowl was like nails on a chalkboard as he choked down a slice of toast and all but chugged his coffee. “So…” Sirius started, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Not really,” Remus muttered. “I’m going to run to Target and get some groceries.”

“In your pajamas?”

Remus went upstairs without a word. He slept on the living room couch again that night and tried desperately not to miss Sirius’ solid warmth next to him. This is good for you both, he repeated again and again and again. Space is good. Space is healthy.

Day Three

Sirius didn’t bring it up again, but he stole quick, worried glances that Remus caught in his periphery whenever they were in the same room together. There was a gentle knock on the living room doorframe and he poked his head in, offering Remus a grilled cheese sandwich that basically broke his heart. “I’m really sorry about the toothpaste,” he said softly when Remus didn’t respond. “Um, I made dinner, but you seemed busy. So. Here.”

“Thanks,” Remus managed. As soon as he heard the bedroom door close upstairs, silent tears began streaking down his face. The sandwich tasted like sawdust. “You need to breathe,” he reminded himself. “If you move too fast it’s going to fall apart. If you can’t exist apart then you won’t be healthy together.”

And yet somehow he was unhappier than he had been in more than three months, even when they were still living in the same house.

 Day Four

Remus ran errands. Hung out with Lily in the park. Made lunch and left a brief note next to the crock pot for Sirius to find when he was done working out. Love you, it read. Simple. Normal. Healthy.

His back was beginning to cramp from the too-small couch. His feet were cold every night. Lily’s silent concern played over and over again in his head as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

 Day Five

It was getting easier to create distance with Sirius despite the fact that they shared most spaces. He offered quick smiles when they passed each other in the hallway, chaste kisses whenever he left the house, and even scooted over to make room for him on the couch when the Avatar reruns started on Nickelodeon.

“Remus, are you mad at me?” Sirius asked after a period of suffocating silence. Hearing him say his name was strange—his accent curled around it in an unfamiliar way, like he was making a conscious effort not to slip up. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. It was agonizing to be so close to him and yet so far away. They always cuddled on the couch.

“No,” Remus said in a small voice. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Is this…are you breaking up with me?” From the soft huff of air that came after it, Remus knew he had been sitting on this for a long time.

“What? No!” He turned, making eye contact for the first time in days. It was brutal and made him feel raw. “No, I love you.”

Sirius’ shoulders folded in slightly and he fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “Are you coming back to bed soon?”

“I—I don’t know,” Remus forced himself to say. I love you! He wanted to scream. I love you so much it’s scaring me. I miss everything about you, even the toothpaste smudges on the sink and the way you look at me when you find more of my socks scattered around. I miss holding you and racing shopping carts in Target with you. I miss your laugh and your smile and just being near you. “Probably. I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” The words sounded like they pained him. “Take all the time you need.”

“This isn’t payback,” Remus said. “Sirius, this is not payback for the time we spent hiding, okay?”

Sirius gave him an astonished look. “How did you…?”

“Because I know you.” He was miserable. So fucking miserable. “I know you, Sirius, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

One question hung unspoken between them. Then why are you staying away?

 Day Six

Sirius was gone when he woke up, but a sticky note in his careful handwriting rested on the end table near Remus’ face. He frowned as he sat up—he been too drained to deal with tangled blankets when he went to sleep, but sometime in the night they had been smoothed all the way up to his shoulder and a second one had been added to cover his feet. Remus shoved down the urge to burst into tears and grabbed the note to distract himself.

Remus, it began. Ouch.

Pots and I are taking Harry to the park today, I’ll be back around six. Lily said she wanted to talk with you at some point so keep an eye out for her calls. Thanks for picking up extra pasta at the store.

Love you,

Sirius

He smoothed his thumb over the note, feeling each bump and curl of Sirius’ pencil because his vision was too blurry to make out the words a second, third, fourth time. “This is bullshit,” he said to himself. “This is bullshit!”

When the slight echo of his shout faded out, he set it back on the table and curled up, drawing both blankets tight around himself. “Why am I doing this?”

1.      You had sex before you went on a real date

2.      You went through a traumatic event and are still working through it

3.      You’re so fucking scared of how much you love him

4.      You want to spend forever with him because he’s your best friend, too

5.      Normal couples date for at least a year before moving in together

6.      Normal couples—

“Fuck it.” He shook his head to clear the anxiety list from his brain. He had been reciting it to himself for days as some sort of convoluted justification. “Fuck it. I love him and this is bad for both of us. So what if we’re not a normal couple? What the hell is a normal couple? We’re never going to be normal and I love him, I love him, I…”

The low sobs that resonated in his chest burned in the best way. His breathing was even, but he just couldn’t repress this anymore. “I’m a coward,” he sniffled, sliding further under the heavy blankets. His pajamas only smelled like laundry detergent and regret. “And an idiot.”

The phone rang and he picked it up. “Hey, Lils.”

“Well, you sound like a wreck.”

“I know.”

“What’s going on, Re?”

“I’m an idiot.”

“And?”

“And I’m in love with him.”

“And?”

“I’m done self-flagellating to try and fit the societal standards of a healthy relationship based on heterosexuality.”

“There’s my Remus,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”

“Better now. I’ll fix this when Sirius gets home.”

“Good. You’re both suffering from this.”

 Day Seven

When Remus woke up, it was pitch-black outside. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to the ceiling, scrubbing at his itchy eyes. The wall clock read 12:06. After another thirty minutes of crying, he had cleaned the whole house top to bottom, went for a run, and then apparently passed out on the couch for five hours.

Fix this. In any other circumstance, Remus would have spent at least an hour fretting over every tiny detail. But this was Sirius. This was about owning the fact that he was happiest with Sirius and that he had unintentionally hurt him by trying to create distance that they didn’t actually need.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up the stairs and knocked softly on the bedroom door. There was a moment of silence, then a sleepy voice. “Re?”

“Hey, baby. Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius hadn’t bothered turning on the light, so the room was dark as he slipped in and closed the door behind him. Sudden nervousness washed through him. “I’m sorry.”

There was a rustle as Sirius sat up. “Why did you do that?”

“I thought—” His mouth was so dry. “It’s so stupid.”

“Please tell me.”

“I thought we needed space. I didn’t want space, you didn’t want space, but I was afraid we were moving too fast and that we’d suddenly wake up one morning and hate each other. That everything would crumble because we rushed into everything.”

“Hmmm.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“After day three, yeah. And then I was just worried. You seemed really unhappy and I didn’t know why.” Sirius paused. “Um, I called your mom.”

“What? When?”

“Friday morning. That was what, day…four? I heard you crying downstairs and I was afraid someone had died or something.” His voice wobbled. “She was worried, too, but she said you might just need to work through it.”

“I’m so sorry, Sirius.”

“I know.”

“Can I…?”

“C’mere.” Sirius reached over and lifted the edge of the covers up on Remus’ side—as far as he could tell, they had been left tucked in the whole time. “I love you,” he murmured as Remus curled up.

“I love you so much.” He carefully reached out and brushed their hands together, and Sirius wrapped an arm around him to pull him close. “So much, you have no idea. That was the worst week.”

Sirius’ heartbeat was steady as Remus kissed the top of his head and melted into his warmth. “I capped the toothpaste in the bathroom.”

When Remus laughed, it was a little teary. “I say this with all the love in the world, Sirius, but I couldn’t care less about the goddamn toothpaste. I care about you.”

His hold tightened and Remus squeezed his eyes shut. I know, it said. I’ve got you. I love you. You can stay.

[revirushifaa]

Can you show us more of Lucille? Maybe her human boyfriend cheats on her and that affects her and...Luci gets so ANGRY alll ahhhhhhhhh!! And plans to break the human who DARED break his little girl's heart?

Anon, you want this overprotective father to wreck that pathetic excuse of a human?? I'm up for it, and I'm glad that you like Lucille to be asking for more of her, of course anon-san!

Warning: Lots of cussing(So unexpected of our prideful demon) and lots of out-of scene torture and screaming--)

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

Never Mess with the Daughter of Pride

Lucille looked so hyper that morning as she would be going out on her first date(after a lot of begging to her father and lots of compromises to do for that to be allowed) with her human boyfriend who just happened to hit on her quickly, or so she thought.

"You seem so over exited today, Lucille." Lucifer took notice of that at the dining table when they were eating, the young demoness was having such a good mood and had even accepted eating the plate that was her least favorite, that was how happy she felt.

"Of course I am, Dad! My boyfriend and I will go on a date and I couldn't be happier!" After his daughter said that, Lucifer frowned almost immediately slightly. He hadn't accepted that human yet, he could sense nothing good from that boy. But he couldn't really say a thing, that would be judging and he didn't want to upset Lucille with it.

"Don't come home late." That was the normal rule. Come home before 10, an hour later means a big lecture and some punishment of chores. The demoness knew that and she followed the rules to the letter.

"Of course, Dad. I won't." She responded in that poilte tone of voice that her father liked and was always demanding.

"Good girl, that is my good girl." Lucifer ruffled her hair and then continued with his breakfast.

After that Lucille walked over to her uncle, Asmodeus.

"Uncle Asmo! Can you get me all pretty today for my date?" She asked him with a very expectant look.

"Ah, why, of course, niece!" Asmo replied to her and pet that hair of hers that was definitely a favorite part to all of the brothers. "You're already pretty, but if you want me to put you even prettier, I can!"

---

"Ah, there! You're ready, my dear!" Asmo said with joy, showing how nice he turned her to look, he handed her a mirror and the girl looked on.

"Amazing, Uncle Asmo, amazing!" Lucille looked even happier than she was looking today, she was ready to go. It was six, the time where the two had scheduled their first date.

"Bye, Uncle Asmo, by other uncles, goodbye, Dad!" After giving everyone a hug, Lucille darted quickly outside the house, while Lucifer looked on and sighed.

"Don't mind me, brothers. But I feel a bad feeling out of this..." He mumbled to everyone in the room.

"Fearing that runt will hurt my niece are ya? Don't worry, because I would wreck him so badly that he would not stand up again!!" Mammon said with trust, Lucille was his niece and therefore, he loved her and wouldn't accept her hurt in anyway.

"Count me on that, too!" Levi piped up. "No one shall hurt my niece and get away with it!" he really wouldn't let that happen, and the rest of the brothers agreed with it.

Lucifer allowed himself to relax and inhaled a sigh.

"Thank you, brothers..."

---

Lucille walked all the way to the place where she would meet with her boyfriend. When she spotted him, she smiled and was planning to surprise him. She walked up very slowly behind the bench that he was and... she got a very nasty surprise.

Her supposed boyfriend, kissing... another demoness.

"(boyfriend's name)... what are you doing with that other demoness. You are my boyfriend!" Lucille was so upset, and her heart ached, she felt how it was breaking into a million pieces.

"You? Excuse me, but who are you exactly? I have never seen you in my life, I only love (demoness name), get away stranger. I would never fall for such a stinky bad-looking hag."

Lucille immediately ran away from there, all the way back to her home, she felt betrayed, horrible... it was all terrible! This had turned into disaster actually! She couldn't believe herself...! And to her dismay, it started storming, getting her all soaked.

Meanwhile at the House of Lamentation...

"I should've told her to take an umbrella with her, she'd soak herself in rain!" Lucifer ever the overprotective father, said in exasperation.

"Uh, bro? Don't you think you're being a little exaggerated?" Levi made a comment and it only made Lucifer worry more.

"She could catch a cold and feel bad, I don't want her to get sick!" And he had a point. He grabbed an umbrella and marched over to the door and the moment he was about to open it, it was slammed opened and a hysterical Lucille jumped into his arms, as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, gripping him as if there was no tomorrow.

"...?!" Lucifer groaned as he was taken off guard by his hysterical daughter's entrance, but his arms quickly wrapped around her and he looked at her in shock. Why was she crying?! Many thoughts spun around his mind, but he was still lost, he lightly shifted her so he could look at her.

"Lucille? Lucille, daughter, what happened?" He asked that in the most softest tone that he owned, knowing that he just couldn't speak to her in his neutral tone, not when she was crying endlessly. It panicked him, since Lucille hadn't cried this way, last time was when she was just starting to walk and she had fell over the stairs and hurt her face, she had never cried like this and it worried the already, concerned father.

"H-he... he... said... horrible hag... cheated on me... another demoness!" Lucille sobbed out heavily, shaking and having her make-up all spoiled and falling down with her tears. Lucifer felt the fury rising in his blood.

"HE SAID AND DID WHAT?!!!"

His strident screech made some glass explode after he had let it out. He held his baby girl in arms, possessively and cradled her. The nerve of that pathetic excuse for a human, oh, when he put his hands on that-!

"My daughter, my little Lulu, shhhh...." He knew first that he had to comfort his heartbroken daughter, before he went out and hunt down that scoundrel. He held her tightly against his body, and began rocking her just like how he did when she was merely a baby.

"I-I can't believe him, Daddy.... and on top of that said that he had never seen be before...!" Lucille was just so heartbroken that it looked she had returned back to calling him 'Daddy'. The more his daughter told him new information, the more he got enraged.

"Shhh, shhh. Hush now, I'll make sure to be the one that will make him suffer in the worst ways possible. You, don't need to waste your tears in such a scum as that hick." He said in a loving, fatherly tone as he continued rocking her and caressing her hair.

It took a lot of time, but Lucille's loud crying and sobs reduced to only gentle sniffling.

"Do you feel a tiny bit better?" At her nod, Lucifer breathed and his breath hitched. He was totally wrathful, and Satan was the Avatar of Wrath, but at that moment he felt increadibly wrathful.

His brothers had come slowly, they had heard the commotion and felt absolutely furious. The eldest looked at them and sighed.

"Could all of you please watch over Lucille? I need to do something else..." They all knew what he was up to, but didn't even bother to stop him.

"Count on us, brother." And after that he put his daughter down, putting his hands around her shoulders.

"Lulu, I'm leaving you with your uncles. You'll be in perfect hands, that scum of a human has business with me." He kissed her top of her head and began departing from his family and walked out, to hunt down that piece of excrement.

--

"Yes, (demoness name), my heart is just for you. And that stinky hag is nothing but a horrible troll-"

"Care to repeat what you said again, human?"

The human jumped and looked frightened to the terrifying looking Lucifer in his demon form.

"I-I..."

"Care to say that again? About how my daughter is a stinky hag and that you haven't seen in your life? Care to, human?" He had grabbed the human by his neck as he let out a choked screech.

"P-please sir, I can explain it....!" The boy begged for his life, tears forming in his eyes, but that didn't calm the fury inside Lucifer down, in fact the demon snarled in his face.

"With my daughter no one messes or makes her cry and gets away with it. I will make sure that you pay for this."

--

"It's okay, my niece. Your father is out there making that scoundrel's life a terror, he won't get away with it!" Mammon tried to cheer his still sniffling niece up.

"Your uncle is right, Lucifer will make that brat cry like a baby! You're his daughter and so, he's doomed! A stinky normie he is!" Levi followed suit, all of the brothers were around Lucille and having her in a tight, group hug on the ground.

"I bet he's already crying like a banshee!" Asmo laughed, just to make his distraught niece feel, at least a bit better.

And as if on cue a loud agonizing scream was heard and the brothers laughed for they knew what that meant; Lucifer was making the brat the worst torture that there was.

Lucille began to smile a little then, feeling slightly better. "Dad loves me so much... he went out to do that just for me."

"Of course he those, niece. As we all love you." They all exchanged a hug, as the screams continued being heard for hours and hours.

Bonus:

"Dad, may I ask what did you did to my ex?" Lucille asked her father when they were walking back home.

"Let's just say, that wax and human skin and hair are no friends at all." Lucifer said simply, with a sneer as he ruffled her hair.

Lucille inwardly winced a bit. "He was screaming like some animal!"

"What he gets for making my pride and joy cry. I made him cry in the worst way possible."

"Love ya, Daddy." She threw her arms around him, like a little girl and her father smiled softly, peppering her in hugs and temple kisses.

"As do I, Lulu. As do I."

[chews-erotically]

*Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst/ violence/ blood/ gore/ injury

      * Summary: Get Gone or Get Dead

      * Word Count: ~1400

*Part ONE**Part TWO**Part THREE**Part FOUR**Part FIVE* *Part SIX*           

PART SEVEN

     When you were a child, you’d come upon a dying bird on the road near your home. It had lain on its side in a small puddle of blood. Its eyes had glittered like jewels into the heat of the summer sun. Its beak was open, it was gaping and gasping. Perhaps it had flown into a window; more likely, a roaming cat had made it a cruel plaything before becoming bored and moving on. You had stood, transfixed, willing it to die. Your young girl’s heart could not bear to watch its agony, but you did not possess the strength of character to crush its skull or snap its neck. You were too squeamish and cowardly to extend that kindness.

    You had walked away.

    Now, you were walking willingly towards death. Yours or another’s, you did not know. There were three beating hearts between you and the cruiser, then to the sling-back the cruiser had undoubtedly come from.

    Blaster raised you tried to make yourself tall on the Green. You kept your eyes fierce, zeroed in on the two mercs. Ezra was beside you, thrower cocked at his shoulder. Neither of you spoke. 

    The mercenaries, by virtue of being in a clearing, noticed both of you immediately and met your approach with weapons drawn and guttural shouting. There had been a time in the past when Ezra would have approached the situation with melodious bargaining and other clever salesmanship before resorting to violence. This was different, every atom in the atmosphere was charged with desperation, vibrating with finality. Either they die or you do- there was no in-between now.

    Before either could fire Ezra leveled his thrower at the first merc and discharged it. There was a muffled bang that reached your ears as you saw blood bloom in the fabric of the merc’s chest. He fired a beat later, but the shock of impact threw his shot well wide of you and ricocheted somewhere to the left of the clearing. The second merc, momentarily thrown by sight of his partner sinking to his knees, recovered and raised his own blaster toward you. You aimed your own weapon and pressed the trigger.

    Click.

    Shit.

    You barely had time to process the fact that the blaster had jammed on you before an explosion of white-hot pain hit your shoulder. You were spun like a top. Your world was tipping, spinning. Rotten air was knocked out of you and you were on your back. You looked to your shoulder to see crimson spreading. More blood on your suit. It hurt so much you couldn’t speak, only hiss through clenched teeth. You forced yourself to sit up and face what was coming- you refused to die on your back. You wheezed audibly, heard Ezra’s breathing match your own over your comlink.

    Ezra. You looked up from your place on the ground to see him upon the second merc. You did not need to see his face to read the intention on it. Ezra killing with his hands was its own unique form of dark intimacy, and you could picture his eyes wide and dark, jaw clenched with rage. You knew that every single thing he did, either gentle or feral, was accomplished with an abundance of emotion. You saw the knife in Ezra’s hand that he’d removed from his boot and you watched him plunge it into the chest of the mercenary again and again. When the thrashing body finally stilled, Ezra shambled to his feet. His breathing sounded like an underwater turbine. Agonal. He was coming toward you, swaying slightly. You were struggling to get to your feet. Your shoulder felt as if it was skewered by an iron pike.

    He shakily held his hand out to you. You stumbled, almost pulling him down with you. Finally you stood, swaying drunkenly in the clearing. You noted Ezra’s suit, covered in blood spatter and gore, mirrored your own when you had first met. His face looked gray and ashen, his eyes hollow and sunken. It became quickly apparent that his actions had taken any last reserve he was saving. He was closer to his own end than you were, and for the first time you were overcome by terror. You needed to keep your breathing even to save your deteriorating oxygen. You needed to swallow your tears and prevent any further dehydration. Yet here you were, gasping and sobbing. Ezra looked like a ghost and his lips were so dry, so cracked, with a faint tint of blue seeping into his flesh. You didn’t care about your shoulder, you’d hack it off in an instant to prevent this man from ever having to look like this to save you, to exert himself to the point of death because your blaster had jammed.

    I can’t lose you.

    I can’t lose you.

    My fucking Gods I cannot lose you.

    In desperation you were tugging him, pulling him toward the cruiser. You paused only to grab the blaster that lay in the moss beside the ruined body of the mercenary. The prisoner had come back to himself somewhat during the fracas, he was clumsily priming the thrower, his hands shaking. You walked up to him and pressed the blaster to his helmet. He paused as soon as he felt you and made a grab for the back of your knee. You thought of the dying bird.

    You fired. This time, there was no jam. The helmet imploded with a muffled pop and the prisoner slumped backward.

    You pushed Ezra up the ramp. You felt like it took hours to find the toggle that would retract it and close the cruiser door. You then searched frantically for the button that would switch on the air filter. When you found that and slammed the heel of your hand into it you clawed at the clasps to your helmet. When you’d finally managed to whip it off one-handed you took your first gulp of optimally filtered air in months. 

    Ezra.

    He had managed to reach the passenger seat of the craft before he’d collapsed. His helmet was still on. You did not have the strength to rush to him on your feet, so you crawled to him on your knees. You unclasped his helmet clumsily the way you had your own and removed it as carefully, as reverently as you could. You realized you’d started crying again.

    “Ezra,” you whispered, cradling his head in your hand.

    He stirred slowly, he sounded like a man drowning. His eyes fluttered open, vague and lethargic before finally focusing on yours.

    “Dove,” you could barely hear him. “......don’t. Don’t leave me.”

    You didn’t know how, but you were crying harder. You felt snot touch your upper lip, your breaths hitched and croaked.

    “I will never leave you, Ezra. I am bound to you, always. We’re getting off this moon. We’re going. Now.”

    He leaned his head against the back of the seat.

    “I love you, Dove. So much…”

    You leaned forward and pressed a shaking kiss to his hairline, right below his mallen streak. You reached out to smooth away the wetness you’d left there.

    “And I love you. And I’m getting you help as soon as we get to the sling. I’m buckling you in, okay?”

    It wouldn’t have taken you so long but your fingers felt numb, clumsy. It was necessary for you to use both hands to fasten his clasp and you bit down a cry as you pressed down to engage the clasp. You noticed the top of your suit was becoming saturated. You felt wholly indifferent to your injury while you ensured Ezra was as secured as possible. He had soon lost consciousness, his head lolling to rest on his shoulder as he breathed steadily, if not quietly.

    As soon as you finished you crawled to the pilot’s seat and noted with relief that as the cruiser was a rental it had an operations manual at the console. You followed the steps you had with Ezra in ensuring you were properly strapped in, this time ignoring the stabbing heat in your shoulder. You followed each step pictured and gasped out a rough, rattled laugh as you felt, then heard the boosters engage.

    You had dimly expected the final joke to be a mechanical failure of some sort, yet the cruiser soon lifted out of the trees and you steered it toward the coordinates displayed on the screen. If not for your illness you felt as if you’d be screaming. You glanced out the window one final time at the cursed terrain of the Green and swore to yourself that you’d gladly die before ever returning.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

HOLD ME

Alexander “Tig” Trager x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: about suicide and drugs. Angst.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​@sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Your phone rings in the middle of the night, palming the nightstand sleepy to hook off the call.

“He—Hey, my sunshine…”

Pulling it somewhat away, you check the hour.

“Good god, Alexander… It's four”.

“Yeah, I'm so—sorry. I just wanna hear yo—your voice”.

“Are you drunk?” Rolling over the bed you used to share with him, you rub your eyes with two fingers leaving a heavy snort on air.

“More or less”. Chuckles by the other side of the speaker.

“I'm gonna han—”

“No! Listen, lis—listen… Listen, how was your day?”

“Alexander, I'm tired. And I was sleeping”.

“I kno—I know. I'm sorry, baby”.

Everytime he calls you by that pet-name gives you chills. You still in love with him, after almost seven years with that man and all its ups and downs. It's been six months since he fucked up what you had together and it's the first time he calls you, even if you have seen him before at Teller-Morrow, sometimes, when Jax had needed you.

“I'm sorry f—for everything I've done to you”.

Your heart is racing so fast that you're starting to think it's going to jump off of your chest.

“I hurt you and you didn' des—deserve it. You're the love of my life. I'll alw—always love you and I want yo—you to remember it, okay?”

That sounds bad. That sounds pretty bad. Sitting up on the bed and turning the light on to take away the sheets, you place your feet on the floor walking close to the chair where your clothes are.

“Hey, Tiggy, listen. You've revealed me, uh?” You're trying to keep calm, because you have never heard him talk like that. “Where are you? I've actually had a ba—”.

“Shh… It's ok—okay, baby. Don't worry”. Hearing some coughs while you're wearing a pair of jeans, supporting the phone between your ear and your shoulder, you try to find the keys of your car. “I just ho—hope that you can find som—someone who loves you as I do… But never hurt y—you as I did”.

“Tiggy, come home”.

“Go back to sl—sleep, everything is go—gonna be okay”.

Before you can say anything else, he hangs up the call. You try to call him again but the phone is off. Running to your car, you type Jax's number by heart impatiently, turning on the engine.

“What's up, (Y/N)?”

“Is Tig there?”

“No”. He just say.

“Did you fight?”

Silence. Nothing. No words.

“He called me. Drunk. Telling me… things that sounded really bad, Jax. We need to find him”.

You can hear a snort.

“I beg you, Jax. Help me to find Tig”.

“Check the cabin, Chibs and me are on our way to his house. Call me back”.

Throwing the phone above the copilot seat, your press the gas as hard as you can. You're praying all you know to reach on time, before he can do something stupid. And the road looks like it's longer than never, even if you're driving over the speed limit. Lucky there's no police to stop you. A bunch of possible ideas dance in your head, which worse than the last, knowing well that Jackson should told him something about all the bad things he did. Starting by your relationship. And you were conscious that he wasn't well after leaving him. Tig just collapsed after understanding what he had done.

Car headlights illuminate the wooden facade and the black motorbike parked next to the porch. Stepping out of the car faster as you can, your legs burn running towards the door. You hit it with your palms, screaming out his name, for some long minutes. But there's no answer. The windows are covered by the curtains, disabling the view inside. Going downstairs out of the porch, you run again to the backyard, checking the other windows in case they're unlocked. Nothing. Wrapping your fist in the hoodie you're wearing, you hit the glass of the back door, hard enough to break it and slide your hand inside to open it.

“Alexander! Alexander! Tig!” You shout desperate turning all the lights on.

He's not there, but you find empty bottles of whisky lying on the carpet and some white dust scattered on the table, close to a small picture of both. Together. He's breaking your heart more painfully than six months ago.

“ALEXANDER!” You scream again running all over the cabin, going upstairs and stumbling an instant along the way.

All the doors are opened, peeking into each room till you finally find him. Your heart stops. Swallowing saliva you take a step with a hand raised to him. Tig is lying on the bed with the gun barrel pointed at his left temple.

“Tiggy… pull it down”. You whisper, trying to calm him in some way.

“No… No… Leave, baby…” He sobs loudly, shaking his head as the tears are running down his cheeks. “Leave, please…”

“I'm not leaving. Pull the gun down”. You take another step closer to him. Just two more and you can reach his feet.

“I do—don't want you to se—see me like that”. The man cries out somewhat loud. “Leave!”

“I'm not leaving, Alexander! Put the damn gun down!” You shout at him losing your mind. “Do you think this is the best way to fix it?!”

“I don' wan—wanna hurt you anymore”. Shaking his head again, he puts his gaze away from you.

“You're doin'et now”. You assure trying to breathe calm, leaning above the bed in slow motion by your knees, sitting on your heels. “I can't… live without you”.

Slow, so slow, you raise a hand straight to him.

“Give me the gun, my tiger”. You beg looking for those blue eyes you can die for.

He hesitates, finding yours in the middle of the dark, nodding somewhat gently. Looks like an eternity, an agonic one, watching him moving his hand close to yours till the cold steel touches your palm. You hold the heavy gun, locking it and throwing it to somewhere over the floor. His crying becomes louder and more bitter, as you crawl the mattress next to the Son'. By a side, you hold his neck wrapping it with your arms and forcing his head to rest on your chest. The mental breakdown that it's hitting his whole tensed body opress your breath, feeling him trembling under your grip.

“I'm so sorry, baby… I'm so sorry”. Tig bewails licking his chapped lips holding on the arm it's surrounding his throat.

You know he needs to treat himself about his alcohol addiction. That's the shit that always gets him in trouble. The same shit that fucked up what you built together through the years. Kissing dearly his head, you pull him closer, with the same pain that it's squeezing his heart like yours.

“Lemme take you to the shower”. Using a soft tone of voice, you get up from the bed with extreme care tangling your fingers with the longest.

He nods again, trying to put on his feet and supporting half of his weight on you. Placing an arm on your shoulders, you walk step by step, slow, to the bathroom some meters away from the main room. Turning on the light and sitting him down on the toilet, you begin to undress him starting by the sweaty shirt smelling like whisky. Continuing by his boots as Tig rests his back on the marble wall, you pull them by a side to unzip his jeans. So, when he's already naked, you help him to sit inside the bathtub using the cold water to wet his body. The man curls his knees against the chest, surrounding it with both arms and resting his head on it. He's not crying anymore, being somewhat shocked in complete silence.

When you think it's enough, you turn off the tap leaving some soft caresses on his back and kissing his kiss again. Getting up of your knees to grab a big towel hanging on the door, putting it in your shoulder so you can help your, yet, husband to lift his heavy body up. Wrapping him into the fabric, he gets out of the bathtub sitting back on the toilet.

“Stay here, okay?” You ask him caressing his cheek, as he nods with the head down. “I'll be back in a minute”.

Walking downstairs you call Jax, enough seconds to tell him you found Tig. Not how. Not where. Not how long ago. Only that you found him. Hanging up the call, you come back to the bathroom. The man still in the same position you left him. Making him kneel in front of the toilet, you open it.

“Open your mouth”. You just say, tucking two fingers in it until you press his throat.

Sometimes you ask yourself who else could do something like that. You love him too much to let him die. It's not his time. And of course, it's not the way. After several retching, he vomits.

“Throw it all, Tiggy”. You mutter pressing a hand on his abdomen and the other, after cleaning it on your own shirt, supporting his forehead.

He coughs some times, and smells pretty bad, but you should do it. Not as if it were an obligation, but a promise you made to him, even if he didn't fulfill his. Leaving him some seconds, you put the plug locking the sink to let the cold water run and fall on it like a cascade.

“Come're”. You whisper this time, getting him up and closing the tap.

He sinks his face inside it, breathing the water enough to clean his nostrils and his throat, until he drowns a little. Drying him with another towel, looking at you sad and distraught. Turning him by his shoulders and guiding his steps back to the room, as if he was a statue, Tig having a sit on the edge of the bed lets you dress him with a clean pair of boxers.

“Lie down”. You ask him putting a hand on his chest, to make him do it. And when you're about to come back to the bathroom, he holds your wrist.

“Don' leave, please”. He begs you with a broken tone and a painful gesture because the effort.

“No more drugs, nor alcohol”. You sigh, closing your eyes for a second feeling his fingers touring your skin till he tangled them with yours.

“I'll do wha—whatever you ask me to”. Cleaning his throat as he coughs again, pushes you closer. “I don' wan—wanna lose you again”.

You sit on the bed, turning above him to rest your free palm on the other side. Leaning forward over his chest, you leave a soft kiss on the man's forehead, pulling back some black wetted curls.

“You are the on—only thing I have loved in li—life. Nobody else. Noth—Nothing else. Only you”.

“I know”. You just say, pulling yourself away to lose yourself on his ocean eyes.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Sitting at the table and having a spoon full of Fruity Loops, you have the box in the other hand reading the clues for the crossword. It's a sunny day of a June morning and you're enjoying your free weekend in complete silence. Till the main door gets opened, followed by heavy steps crossing it. Tig appears in the kitchen with a hug smile draw on the corner of his lips. But there are no words, turning around the table and placing himself by your back. With a hand supported on the wood, the man puts somewhat like pocker red chip between the bowl and you. Looking at him a little confused and a raised eyebrow, you pull down your gaze again, taking it with two fingers.

“One year”. He just say with somekind of happiness in his voice.

He infects you that big smile on his face, sitting by your side and resting an arm on the top of your chair.

“'Am clean”. He adds then, poking the chip softly.

You can't believe a whole year passed by after that tragic night, when he almost ended up with his life. Jax told you to leave him at the clubhouse, but you knew it was the worst idea ever. So you brought him to the house you shared for seven years, hoping that it would help him to heal and redeem himself for all the wrong he did. He stayed at the closest room towards yours, being by his side. You fight with him the need he had of getting high, of getting drunk; forcing him to empty the bottles and throw the drugs inside the toilet before moving with you, to your house. And you also forced him to assist to every party SOA had. No whisky, no beer, no cocaine, no weed and no sex. Nothing for a year.

“I wanna make the right thing with you”. Tig says freeing your hands to hold them with his. “Give me a chance. A last one. No compromise. Just… think 'bout it and tell me whenever you want”.

Leaving a sigh and pulling away your eyes on nowhere, you end up nodding.

“Okay, but…”

“I'll not”. He interrupts you before you can finish the warning.

[ia-bi-tia]

Ok so today was a disaster day for art HOWEVER it seemed to have been a good days for writing :^3

Here's a thing I wrote on my phone - a word vomit if you will

1, 691 words

I feel like you don't really need much backstory for this other than it's set like 6 months after their mother physically assaulted them and they stayed in the home of a physician. This drabble is about how they met Vedra. It's set in Nevinon.

(The whole backstory is coming just be patient and pretend like all this makes sense, thanks!)

They had been so silent for almost half a year - only a few silent words would leave their throat when they were spoken to by the physician or his wife.

"How are you feeling today?"

"Okay."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes."

"Oh? What have you eaten?"

"Bread."

"....The bread is still intact, darling."

They didn't even have the strength to argue. They were so weak. They could barely leave the bed on most days. 

Their back was usually turned to their current guardians, always in a state of sobbing and trembling or complete and all consuming nothingness. They'd just stare at the white wall in front of them until their vision went spotted, and then they'd just keep going. The period was rough and any sense of joy seemed too far out of reach. 

The closest they felt to joy was the rare chances they got to visit the nearby city. 

It would usually be when the physician had work there and nobody could look over the child so they'd get the chance to explore on their own.

And explore they did.

Their lanky frame could be seen slithering around the streets, always covered and silent, looking up at all the buildings. The architecture was different from the farm they grew up in - it felt alive. 

They'd stroll down the streets and watch the people of it and listen. What lives these people led. 

With hearing only bits and pieces they could try to string together stories.

It kept their mind busy on those days.

These outings would spark the tiniest fire in them.

But it seemed so out of reach. So intangible to lead a life like that.

To be old and share gossip with an old friend.

No.

That wasn't for them.

They didn't know where they belonged, their imagination envisioning them maybe an hour in advance at most.

They wouldn't live to be sixteen. 

How could they? Life seemed to be out to get them. 

Would they stay in the house they were at forever? That would be so depressing, wouldn't it?

On one such day they found themself on the streets again. They heard the sound of an accordion coming from the square. They tried to push through the crowd to see the musician but were found lacking in strength as well as attitude to do so. 

They frowned and looked around to find a pile of sturdy looking crates. They clutched their chest as they climbed, still not trusting the injury they got a few months back not to burst if they pushed themself too much.

With a huff, they plopped down onto the crate, now with a better view of the show.

But it wasn't much of a show.

A boy maybe a few years older than them played the instrument, his legs crossed as he lazily played. Beside him was a badly put together bench with a big pot of hot stew on it. A girl about his age was stirring the pot, offering the food to anyone who passed. She held a polite smile as she talked to the would-be customers(?), but the second their backs would turn, her face would show the full extent of her frustration. She'd mumble something to the boy beside her to which he would only shrug.

The pair intrigued Ia and they couldn't keep their eyes away from them. They felt so alien to them yet the two also reminded them of their father so much that it made their chest tighten.

"Oi, you little rat, get off there!"

The sound of a merchant, presumably the owner of the crates, boomed from behind them. This frightened them and they lost their balance and they could feel themself slip from their seat, no matter the flailing of their limbs.

They fell ass-first onto the floor, a loud thud heard from the rubble. They felt their spine reset from the impact and tears started streaming from their shocked face. They tried to get up but a sharp, throbbing pain in their back stopped them in their tracks. All they could do was close their eyes and cry from the pain and from the humiliation of the crowd gathering around them. 

They didn't see the people who helped them up, but they knew their knees trembled as they tried to stand. They cried miserably, not sure what to do next. 

"Iotta!"

They heard the physician call out as he seemingly stumbled across the scene. He tusked as he took hold of them.

"What happened?! Are you okay?"

Ia sobbed and shook their head no. 

"Ay yai yai, we best get you fixed up."

The physician lifted them up bridal style to at least get them away from all the people.

Ia managed to catch one look of the two that helped them up - the musicians.

….

It had been a few days of them recovering. It wasn't too serious, their back was just a little beaten up.

They spent the period thinking about the musicians and what energy they possessed. 

The boy was the prettiest they'd ever seen - tall and lean with angular features. The way he was hunched over that stool was somehow both effortless and elegant.

The girl was an intrigue of her own. The roots of her dark hair were dark hair were showing under the copper red she dyed it in and her face was so expressive. She seemed discouraged by whatever she was doing, yet she stood tall and determined despite her short frame.

It had been a while since they felt the need to make friends.

Making friends. 

The idea seemed so far removed from what they had been experiencing for the last few months. As a child they loved walking up to the other children from the village. But now they weren't sure if they could do it.

But the human need was there and they were determined to fulfill it .

They rummaged the little belongings they had to find their father's tambourine. They hadn't touched it in almost four years. 

They dragged their fingers over the smooth, darkened skin of the drumhead. They seemed to have grown into it; the weight and size of the instrument weren't as awkward in their hands anymore. 

They struck the tambourine again their thigh, at first flinching at the loud sound but it soon turned into a wide, happy grin. 

Oh, how they've missed it.

Noise.

Perhaps it was the silence driving them crazy all this time. 

They messed around for a while, just enjoying the pure joy of making noise.

They left a note on the door as they snuck out. 

'I'll be back. Do not worry.'

They awkwardly clutched the instrument under their cloak as they threaded the well known path into the city.

Their heart raced. This was stupid. How would they even find them? What would they even say to them? What if they didn't like them? What if they were mean?

Though their mind was uncertain, their legs walked like no tomorrow.

It was late afternoon by the time they saw the pair at the beach a little far off from the docks. They had company. Lively company.

There was about six of them, all making music together around a campfire. 

They were all as varied and colourful as the instruments they played. The music was intense and rowdy and sometimes they would sing and other times they would scream. But it sounded so good.

Ia stood quite a ways back from them as they tried to catch their breath, watching them from behind the long curly mess that was their hair.

They battled against themself for an agonizing amount of time before taking a few steps closer. Then a few more. Then another few until the girl from earlier noticed them.

She squinted in their direction then smiled widely.

"Hey! How's your bum doing, kid?"

Ia freezed in their tracks, eyes wide like a deer's. Their mouth hung open but no words seemed to come out. Oh no. This was a mistake.

The girl stood up and walked over to them, head cocked to the side. 

"You feeling okay? Sorry if that was a bit-"

Her words were interrupted by them shaking their head.

"Okay then. Would you like to sit with us?"

A nod.

"Come."

The girl led them to a stool so they could sit down and she plopped into the sand beside them.

"Introductions, band!"

The girl called out and the whole group puffed up their chests and assumed soldier-like expressions.

"Anvil."

"Esfir."

"Apolonia."

"Ras."

"Mete."

"Vedra."

Ia watched them all, amazed at just the little glimpse of their dynamics. They were all so much different from the people they'd usually see as well as so different from each other.

They were surprised when Vedra looked up at them with an encouraging smile.

"What do you like to be called?"

The simple act of not asking for their name, but for what *they* wanted to be called gave them a new type of feeling. A new type of euphoria.

They stuttered, their voice so unused and unnatural.

"I-Ianais. O-or maybe only Ia."

Vedra clapped her hands together, her smile as bright as ever. They could notice one golden tooth in her otherwise impressive teeth.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ia. Say, what brings you to our merry little banď?"

Ia didn't really have an answer so they just shyly showed them all their tambourine with an honest and hopeful smile.

The group burst into cheers and laughter at the weird new kid in their company.

"One of us, it seems like."

The pretty boy, Mete, commented with a little nudge to their arm.

*One of them.*

Maybe their imagination could stretch their lifespan a little further. They'd love to see what it would be like to be seventeen. Maybe even eighteen.

They had never felt so relaxed and accepted, even with just so little.

And it gave their life purpose to know feeling like this was possible.

Little did they know they just met the rest of their life.

:^)

[reidology]

One last time, teach me how to say goodbye (Hotch x Reid)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Hotch sacrificed himself to Foyet in order to save Haley and Jack. Spencer lays in bed one night, plagued by the memories of Hotch’s death over the phone and missing the feeling of laying next to him. 

Word count: 1.3k

Content Warning: Hotch is dead, crying, agony (can I tag agony? I’m going to bc that’s what I felt while writing it), death

One last time, teach me how to say goodbye (AO3)

Spencer knew this was coming. He was no stranger to trauma or sleepless nights. Nor was he a stranger to losing the people he loves. After all, he is Spencer Reid and everyone eventually leaves without a goodbye. It’s just, he was hoping to have a few more days of blissful numbness.

But tonight the pain hits him like a meteor punching a hole straight through his heart.

Another silent sob wracks through his body as he tosses on the bed, pulling the sheets that had once smelled like his lover closer to his face, almost suffocating. He hadn’t dared change the sheets or even pick up Hotch’s dirty socks and sweats from the floor. For a second he panics, fumbling around the mess of sheets for Hotch’s sleep shirt. It had to be here somewhere, where is it— his shaking hand wrapped around the soft fabric at the foot of the bed.

Feeling the soft cloth between his fingers and bringing the shirt to his cheek, he remembers what it was like to lay his head against Aaron’s chest. He used to trace patterns on his stomach as he counted the older man’s heartbeats until sleep caught up to him. Sometimes Hotch would wrap him up tightly in his arms and tuck his chin in Spencer’s warm neck. Spencer used to complain that his breath tickled his neck and push him away, but now he would do anything to have Hotch curled around him, breathing evenly, safe in his arms.

“Please. Let my family go. You have me.” Hotch’s voice was ragged, calculated. Always calculated.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, Aaron? Then they won’t see what I’m about to do to you.”

At the first gunshot Reid’s lungs collapse. Everyone in the SUV holds their breath, there is a beat of silence on the other end of the line. Then, “RUN! GET OUT OF HE—” And the unmistakable sound of Hotch crying out in agony. He’s been tackled, the sounds of their grunts indicating a physical fight.

Spencer’s mind was absent, but his ears picked up everything. Every. Single. Sound. The sound of Aaron and Foyet tumbling down the stairs. The sound of Hotch knocking Foyet’s head into the ground over and over, screaming like a monster. An animalistic sound he’d never heard from his boss before. Then, the heavy panting of a broken man exhausted beyond relief. The whispered “He’s dead… He’s dead. Jack… Haley…” The sound of pained shuffling, Aaron getting up to find his son. Then… Then...

Spencer’s body ached with the loss of his soulmate. The only person he’s ever loved. The man with a heart of gold and unwavering loyalty. There was nothing left for him. He had been on autopilot for a week, hadn’t shed a tear since the attack. Until today. He crawled into bed soon as he got home from the funeral, not even taking his shoes off, and began crying.

The sun had now set, he must have been there for hours. He whimpers in the dark, curled around himself and Hotch’s old shirt. How is he meant to fill this hole? How is he meant to accept that Aaron is gone forever? How is he supposed to keep going when the light of his life has been extinguished?

Just one kiss, just one more touch to his cheek, just one more goodbye. All he needs is one more hug, to feel the reassurance of his warmth. His runny nose and tears mix on the sheets, Spencer closes his eyes and remembers.

The smell of coffee and pancakes wafting through the air, the faint tune of jazz playing in the kitchen. Aaron always loves coming home to breakfast after his weekend morning runs. Well, that’s what Aaron says, but Spencer knows it’s really the sight of him in only boxers and an apron that Aaron loves.

Like clockwork, Aaron bursts through the door at 9am and makes a beeline for the kitchen. He takes in the sight of his boyfriend cooking away and slips his arms around his narrow hips, placing a sweet sweaty kiss to the back of his neck.

“Mmm pancakes,” he mumbles into his skin, willing Spencer to turn his head for a kiss, but the hazel-eyed man just giggles, “What? Too sweaty?”

This time Spencer turns around and leans up to peck his lovers lips sweetly, “No, you just do the same thing every week, haven’t you noticed?”

Aaron grins his breathtaking grin, showcasing his irresistible dimples and soft gaze.

“Maybe I’m trying to Groundhog Day you, ever thought of that?”

He pulls Spencer softly into a longer kiss, one that says ‘I know I’m ridiculous, please still love me’. One hand caressing his cheek, one cheeky hand slithering its way under the apron. Spencer pulls away, smiling giddy, “Okay now you’re stinky, go shower. Pancakes are almost ready.”

With a final peck to his lips, Hotch is off to the bedroom and Spencer is a little bit more in love than he was 5 minutes ago.

The happy memory burns sour in his mind. Thinking about the good times almost hurts more than thinking about the emptiness of the bed. A bed suddenly overflowing with old memories. Their first time sleeping next to one another, first time waking up in each other’s arms, first time discovering each other’s bodies like eager teenagers. He would never feel Aaron kissing down his chest again, the scruff of his stubble scratching and leaving irritation marks between his thighs. He’d never experience the feeling of Aaron on top and inside of him, hot above his body and intense gaze directed straight at his soul. He’ll never hear him moan Spencer’s name again.

He will never hear Aaron say ‘I love you’ again. He will never be able to tell Aaron he loves him again.    

Then… The single most agonizing sound Spencer had the misfortune to commit to memory. The excruciating wails of his one true love being stabbed in the back repeatedly. Seventeen times, Spencer would later find out. Seventeen deep, violent, fatal stabs to the back. Aaron, who had been too weak to get away from Foyet. Who had cried out in agony for two minutes before going silent. But the sound of a knife plunging into flesh has persisted, accompanying Foyet’s tired grunts. The sound only stopped when they finally arrived on the scene, Spencer running as fast as his feet would take him but still seemingly in slow motion into the house. He shot one, two, three, four, five, six, seven— until Morgan knocked the gun out of his hands and pulled him to his chest.

“He’s gone! He’s gone, Spencer! He’s dead!”

But Spencer couldn’t hear anymore. He could only see Aaron’s lifeless body. He was too late.

It’s too quiet now… not even the sound of Aaron’s breathing fills the space of the room. He can hear the buzzing of the refrigerator, and if he focuses he can hear Foyet’s taunting voice, his satisfied sigh as he killed and killed and killed.

He tosses to the other side of the bed again. Sniffing and breathing harshly, but the sobs have stopped. He’s tired enough to fall into a restless sleep. Soon he will lose the smell of sawdust and leather. One day he’ll forget just how deep the browns of his irises were. He’ll forget the touches, the gruff voice, the timid laughter, and eventually he’ll forget every memory they ever made together.

So for one last time Spencer closes his eyes and clenches his fists around Aaron’s shirt. He will dream of his lover where he can say goodbye for the rest of time.

[justcallmenikki7]

BTS Reaction To: Them Being Released from Jail (Mafia!Au)

Summary/background:  Someone snitched on your mafia leader boyfriend, making it to where he had to spend six months in jail. Finally, after six months he is now released.

Warnings: fluff, angst?, slight mentions of smut, mafia au.

Notes: yeah, i should be working on an essay, whoops

Jin:

Once you saw those broad shoulders that you love oh so much, you began to tear up. Finally, after six agonizing months, your boyfriend is finally free. When your boyfriend got closer, you began running straight towards him, not giving a second care that you were given judgmental looks. As soon as Jin saw you, a huge smile spread across his handsome face, making you smile too.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted as soon as you jumped into his arms, holding you close in his arms.

You broke down into a sob, surprising you both by your sudden actions. “I’ve missed you so much,” you said in between heaves. The whole time that your boyfriend was in jail, the judge made it to where you and the boys could not talk to him. With that, you had to spend the whole six months without your lover. The boys, however, know how to get around things easily. With persuasion and a few threats here and there, they got to talk to their boss by phone once a week. The sad thing was, you could not speak to Jin due to how short the phone call was, and each call was just for planning on getting the snitch.

So, seeing you cry made Jin tear up, not caring that his men will see him vulnerable. “I promise that this won’t happen again.” Jin promised, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach. “I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. So much.” Jin, whispered to you.

Yoongi:

You were pissed.

Your boyfriend was supposed be home by now, finally being released from jail, but he is not. He is two hours late, making it to where the dinner that you made was cold, becoming pointless to you that you had even tried doing something nice. That is why you were now sat on the couch, wine glass in hand, sipping it slowly. Your heart did jump when you heard the front door opened, but you stayed still in your position, wanting to show how pissed you were at your boyfriend. You do feel guilty by giving him this cold reaction, but the promises that he made by coming home straight to you once he was released were just empty.

You heard curses come from your boyfriend as soon as he stepped into the room, seeing you sipping on the wine without even trying to see him. “Kitten?” He tried, slowly walking over to you. Another curse fell from his mouth, “Fuck, I’m sorry I did not come home straight to you. I do have a good reason though.” He stated, coming to crouch down in front of you, making eye contact with you. You hummed at his statement, cocking an eyebrow at him as a silent command to continue. “Once Namjoon picked me up, he told me about how he found the snitch and in the heat of the moment, I demanded to take me to him so I could kill him, and I did. That is why I am so late. I would never purposely ditch you, Y/N.”

Setting the wine glass down, you leaned close to him and kissed him. Pouring your love and emotions into it. After a good few minutes, you both pulled away. You could tell that he was turned on, but you wanted to mess with him some more. “You’re going to put away the dinner and come back in here and give me affection before we do anything else.”

And once again, your boyfriend cursed again, making you laugh.

God I’ve missed this, yoongi thought.

Hoseok:

“Thanks for shopping here, please come again.” You smiled at the elder lady who was putting her recipt into her purse.

“Thank you dear,” she smiled kindly at you before pushing her cart as she walked away.

Turning to the new customers, you began to scan their items, making conversation with them. As you were going to sack the can foods, you felt arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back into the all familiar chest that you love. Turning around, a smile graced your face and tears welling up into your eyes, making your boyfriends face blurry.

“Hope!” You announced loudly, squeezing him in your arms.

Your moment was ruined by your manager clearing her throat, “I hate to ruin your moment, but I just want to say that you can go and take the rest of the day off, I got you covered.” She winked at you, taking your place at your register.

Grabbing your hands, hoseok rushed you both out of the store and to his car. As soon as you made it to his Range Rover, he pushed you up against the side of it, bringing you into a kiss. Pulling away, he leaned his forehead against yours, giving you an eskimo kiss.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered.

“Well, now you don’t have too anymore. I’m here now.” You promised, holding him closer to you.

Namjoon:

The cocky smirk that your boyfriend held as he walked out of the doors was something that surprised you. Yes, your boyfriend was a confident man in everything he did, but this was something unusual to you. Okay, being released from jail is a good thing – the smirk on his face was not anything good. Even from a few yards away you could see the evil glint in his eyes.

Fuck he is up to something.

Once Namjoon got to you, he brought you into a hug, face nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent. You could feel his body relax in your hold, a little thing that made you smile. You both gave each other kisses, words of love, and him promising that this will never ever happen again.

You heard the car being pulled up behind you, Jungkook in the driver’s seat while Taehyung in the passenger. The both had similar smirks on their faces like the one Namjoon had as he walked out. Namjoon ushered you into the car, quickly slamming the door shut after he got in. Jungkook stepped on the pedal, speeding out of the parking lot. As Jungkook turned the corner, the jail and courthouse went up in flames, the loud cheers from the three men sounded throughout the car.

Jimin:

Your boyfriend is a clingy man. His love for affection was something that surprised you once the both of you started your guys relationship. You never expected someone who ran the mafia could be so affectionate. Jimin could never go more than five hours without getting some sort of affection from you. So, him getting thrown into jail for six months because of some snitch was devastating. You could tell that the lack of affection was getting too much for him by each visit. The talking and seeing you did help, but it did not do the deed.

As soon as Jimin got home, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder and ran up the stairs. Kicking open the bedroom door, it took him only two strides to get to the bed. Throwing you onto the bed, he soon followed, curling up into your body. Tears welled up into your eyes at the sight of your boyfriend in your arms.

“I’ve missed you and your cuddles, Jagi.” He mumbled into your chest, pressing a kiss to you’re the upper part of your boob.

“I’ve missed you too, Jiminie.” You pressed a kiss to his head, inhaling the familiar smell of him.

“I was supposed to go with Tae, Kook, and the Hyungs to take out the snitch, but I told them that it had to wait because I needed to be with you.”

Chuckling, you held your affection-deprived boyfriend closer to you.

Taehyung:

Seeing your boyfriend in normal clothes and not Gucci was shocking. You could not deny that he still looked good, but your boyfriend dressed in name-brand clothing was his signature look. Not jeans and a t-shirt. With that, the exhaustion that was evident on his face made you frown.

That is why you demanded him to get into the bathtub once you both made it home so you could help make him relax. Taehyung did not protest much, the sound of taking a hot bath was something that he needed. So, that is how you found yourself massaging the shampoo that Taehyung loved into his hair, body now completely relaxed. The candles that you had put around the bathroom made the bathroom smell good, along with the soap that you had put into the water.

“Fuck, nothing could compare to this.” Taehyung moaned, leaning into your touch.

“There better not be,” you said jokingly serious.

Taehyung chuckled, looking up at you with love in his eyes. No one, and nothing could compare to his queen.

“I love you, my Queen.”

“I love you too, my King. Now, close your eyes, I’m going to rinse the shampoo out.” You demanded, smiling down at your boyfriend.

Jungkook:

The Jungkook that went to jail was not the same to the one who walked out of the court house. The one who went in was buff, but still baby looking. The one who walked out was more buff and had long hair, along with tattoos.

Your jaw was dropped at the sight of your boyfriend, not believing what you saw, because holy fuck was he hot.

What the hell happened to my Kookie?

Jungkook obviously sees your reaction, making you blush at the smirk that was on his face. Once he made it to you, you could not move from your spot on the bench. It was as if you were glued to your spot, the image of your boyfriend shocking you to the core.

“What? I get no hug from my girlfriend?” Jungkook teased in a low tone.

“You’re not my Jungkook.” You stated, looking your boyfriend up and down. “Definitely not my boyfriend.” You concluded with a nod.

Snorting, Jungkook rolled his eyes, lifting you from the bench, bringing you into a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered back, basking in the familiar warmth of your boyfriend.

“Yoongi-hyung told me how the caught the snitch, supposedly he’s going to be interrogated by Namjoon-hyung tonight, so I won’t be home for a while tonight.” Jungkook told you, frowning. “But I promise to make it up to you by watching those dumb series that you love.” He promised, giving you a bunny smile.

Not even mad, you nodded your head. “Deal.”

[nico-di-genova]

Risks of the Job

Prompt: TK or Carlos getting hurt at work and the other one freaking out and being super concerned/caring.

Warnings: Suicidal ideation (TK reflecting on the past).

       “I’m sorry, you got what?” TK exclaims, his eyebrows shooting up and voice raising an octave.

        The rest of the 126 looks up from their breakfast, their eyes going to where TK stood by the coffee machine, phone raised to his ear and back to them. Through the fabric of his Austin fire t-shirt they could see the way his body began to tense.

       “What-? Where are you?”

        He sounded panicked, worried; it was enough to have Owen looking at him with concern. Paul and Marjan glanced at each other curiously, and then back to the man who was gripping his phone tight enough that his knuckles had gone white.

       “I’m on my way,” he said, before hanging up and turning around to look at his team. There was dread in his eyes, a distress in his features that hadn’t been there before he’d gotten the phone call.

       “What’s going on, TK?” Owen asked, watching his son with a careful gaze, monitoring the way TK seemed to be detaching from his body. He got like this when he was overwhelmed, or when he couldn’t quite process something.

       “Um-, Carlos is in the hospital?” it was a question, like he didn’t want to believe it was true.

       Judd was already standing from his chair before anyone else could respond. He looked to Owen, “I’ll drive him.”

                                                   *******

       He expects the worst, so the image he’s met with is enough to have relief flooding through his body. Carlos is injured, his left arm in a sling and gauze wrapped tightly around his bicep, but he’s conscious. He’s propped up in the hospital bed, playing with the remote for the TV, and beginning to look bored. When he sees TK walk into the room his expression shifts to an exasperated scowl.

       “Ty, I told you not to come.”

       TK scoffed, “and you’re a dumbass if you thought I was going to listen.”

       The breath he takes feels like the first full one he’s had since his minor heart attack began. He’d heard the words, ‘I got shot’, and everything had gone sideways; narrowed to a pinprick viewpoint that had him seeing the worst outcomes. Now that he can look at Carlos, and know that everything is relatively okay, it feels like oxygen is finally returning to his lungs.

       “It’s just a shoulder wound, babe. Some idiot with bad aim tried to rob a gas station. I’m fine.”

       If he wasn’t already injured, TK might have strangled him. Fine was a subjective term, and a gunshot wound very much seemed like a unfine thing. He knew Carlos was just trying to keep him calm though, remain composed, so that he could convince TK to go back to work and resume their normal routine. He didn’t like having people feel sorry for him, always wanting to be the one to do the consoling. While it was brave of him, it was also incredibly annoying.

       “You got shot,” he says, trying not to let his voice waver with the amount of emotion he’s currently feeling.

       Carlos rolled his eyes, “I barely got shot.”

       “You’re annoying, Kevlar, you know that?” There’s only a minor amount of aggravation in his voice. Mainly, he just sounds relieved.

       Carlos gives him a small smile at the nickname. It had come around when TK had first seen him in his bulletproof vest. The sight was enough of a turn on that he’d begged the man to keep it on when he’d returned home that night, slamming him up against the closest wall and kissing him until they both were out of breath. They’d been together long enough for TK to know he was insanely attracted to Carlos when he was in his uniform, but he didn’t particularly enjoy the risks that came with the job. Not that his job was any safer, he did run into burning buildings for a living. Both of them spent a substantial amount of time worrying about the other, to the point that it had led to a few arguments about safety in the beginning of their relationship. He tried not to think about that now, how right he’d been right in agonizing over Carlos every time the man took on a particularly dangerous call.

       Seeming to sense how overwhelmed and panicked TK was, Carlos reached out for him, motioning for the man to come closer until he could wrap his hand around TK’s wrist and pull him to the bed.

       “Look at me Tyler,” he said, Knowing using his first name always grabbed his attention, waiting until TK met his steady gaze, “I’m fine.”

       The steadfast way he said it, with that unwavering determination in his eyes, it was enough to have TK breathing in a shaky breath.  Tears began to burn at the corners of his vision. If it weren’t for Judd driving him here, trying to remind him to breathe on the ride over, TK might have had a full blown panic attack. He knew Carlos wasn’t invincible, that he was very much human and could be injured just like anyone else, but a part of him had thought that the man was too good at his job to be bested. In his head, Carlos was some badass hero cop, too smart and quick to ever be beat by the bad guys. This small injury is enough to remind TK that he can be hurt, in one second he could be here, and in the next be gone. All because some asshole with a gun felt like trying to play cops and robbers.

       “I was so scared,” he finally admits, voice wavering. The tears blur his vision, and he tries to blink them away before they fall, but they’re sudden and overtake him.

      “Oh, cariño,” Carlos sighs, understanding in his tone, “c’mere.”

      He pulls TK down until the man gets the hint and climbs onto the bed beside him. He’s on Carlos’ uninjured side and doesn’t hesitate to curl up against him, head resting on his shoulder, as Carlos wraps an arm around him and places his hand atop TK’s head. It’s a familiar position, a comforting one, and TK clings to it desperately as the tears begin to stream down his face.

      “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

      It’s like he’d been running on a high. Adrenaline and anxiety keeping his heart pounding in his chest from the moment he’d gotten the call. Now that he was here, close enough to hear Carlos’ heartbeat and feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, everything that had kept him running was fading away, leaving him with nothing but the fear that had been the backdrop to this whole experience. He couldn’t think about anything other than how warm Carlos was, how right that seemed, how him being cold and still just felt unnatural. If that bullet had strayed any further to the right they might not even be here right now.

       “You could have died,” he cries, hating how pathetic it sounds. Carlos was the one who’d been hurt, and yet he was the one who was sobbing.

      “No, hey, don’t think like that,” he runs a hand through TK’s hair, something that usually soothes the man but now just makes his cries worsen, “I’m fine, TK. I’m right here.”

      ‘Yeah, but for how long?’ he wants to say, he wants to scream it so that maybe Carlos would understand. Never, not in all of his twenty-eight years, has TK loved anyone as much as he loves Carlos. Maybe he’d been close, Alex had seemed like the love of his life when he was twenty-six, but now he knew that wasn’t real. This, laying here, fitting so perfectly against Carlos’ side, this is what he knew was right. And losing this, the thought of maybe not having this at some point in his life, that terrified him.

       “I’m sorry I scared you, tiger,” Carlos says, pausing for a moment before continuing, “honestly though, it scared me too. When I didn’t know how bad it was yet, and all I could see was the blood, I just kept thinking, ‘TK’s going to kill me’.” He huffs out a small laugh, and sniffles. TK’s surprised when he looks up and see’s his cheeks wet with tears as well.

       “But it’s my job, TK. A job I love. And I know we both get worried, about what could happen, but I love being a cop and you love being a firefighter. So… this is something we have to accept. We have to, or it’s going to break us.”

       TK hates that he’s right, hates it so much that it makes him sick.

       “I promise you; I will always do my best to get home to you. No matter what, but things happen. We have to remember that.”

       Two years ago TK had popped open a bottle of pills with the full intent of ending his life. He’d gone into fires with a sort of recklessness that came with not caring about anything. He knew what it was like to live on the edge of a blade, teetering between death and narrowly avoiding it. He didn’t want that anymore, and with Carlos he didn’t need to feel that way. His dad, his new team, his fiancé, they’d all given him something to live for. So yeah, losing Carlos scared the shit out of him. He didn’t want to accept that Carlos might leave him one day, he hated the thought of it, but the man was right. If they had any hope of maintaining their sanity, they had to understand the dangers of their jobs, and embrace it.

       He looked down at the ring on his left hand, the silver band that Carlos had proposed to him with only a few months prior. When he’d told his dad about the engagement, Owen had smiled and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. The elation he’d felt, the pure joy, rivaled that of the fear he was feeling now. He wanted a life with Carlos, craved it, because the man loved him in a way he’d never been loved. But TK knew why his parents own marriage had fallen apart. His mom had never been able to accept the dangers of Owen’s job. After 9/11, that was when the worst arguments began. They’d be in the kitchen for hours, screaming at each other, and TK had huddled in his room, hugging his knees to his chest, and tried his best to block it all out. He didn’t want him and Carlos to be like that. His dad didn’t want them to be like that. The only way they came out of this, is if they let go of their fear.

       “Okay,” he sniffled, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, “I promise to be careful too.”

       “We’re gonna be okay, cariño.”

       The term of endearment rolled off his tongue in the easy way it always did, making TK’s heart go soft. He leaned into that feeling, leaned further into Carlos, and tried to breathe around the snot that had stuffed up his nose. Maybe there would be a day where he received a worse phone call, where someone else would be the one speaking to him instead of Carlos. But, that day wasn’t today. Today he got to have Carlos right beside him, familiar, warm, and his.

A/N: For anyone that doesn’t know, cariño means sweetheart in Spanish, and I can’t get the image of Carlos calling TK that out of my head.

[thecursedcake]

Jamilton oneshot: early and late

((Alexander is transgender in this oneshot. Enjoy my sleep deprived oneshot!))

A very frantic Thomas burst his way through the hospital doors, panting heavily as if he had sprinted the whole way there. Well, he sorta had. He paid no mind to the other people in the waiting room now staring at him and made his way to the reception desk at a brisk speed. “Alexander Hamilton, my husband. What room his he in?” He asked, struggling to catch his breath. The young receptionist pulled up the files on her computer, which took a minute. It seemed to make Thomas even more frantic and impatient. “Please hurry! He’s having my kid!” He exclaimed to her. He was given a mean side eye from the receptionist.

“Room 201” she said. Thomas didn’t even say thank you. You could see the air rush as Thomas ran off toward the stairs, figuring that would be much faster for him than the elevator. Sprinting five stairs at a time, he made it to the third floor in a manner of 20 seconds. Now at a speed walk, he checked each room number. “215, 213, 211, 209... why the fuck is it numbered like this?!” He thought to himself. He wanted to get there as quickly as possible and it didn’t help that the hall was crowded with doctors, preventing him from going more than a brisk walk. He hoped he hadn’t missed it. Thomas cursed himself for going on that business trip a week before the due date.

Hours before, Thomas received a text from Alex after getting back to his hotel from the first of three meetings. The plan was he’d be on a flight home right after the third meeting, and home for the next few days before the due date. It did not work out that way.

“Thomas, something is wrong.” The text read.

That was not what he was expecting whatsoever. So he replied, “what’s going on, darlin’?”

Then silence. Silence for a whole, agonizing hour. The Virginian was worried about his husband. Alex would never go silent like that if something wasn’t wrong or he was just going to complain about something. Then he received a phone call from Alex.

“Alex! What’s going on? Are you alright?” He asked worriedly as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Hello to you too.” Alex said a bit sarcastically after a second. That’s just something he tended to do when he didn’t want people to be worried about him, be a bit of an ass. “So.. your kid is deciding to come a week early. I called Angelica and packed up everything-“ he was about to say more but was cut off by Thomas. “What?! You mean you’re in labor right now?! When I’m across the country?!” He asked, shocked and quite nervous. He was about to be a father and wasn’t even there to support the one giving to his child.

“Yes, dumbass. Last contraction was 15 minutes ago. We still have a bit of time before things get real....” there was a second of silence before Alex spoke again. “How fast can you get home..? I don’t want to do this without you.” He said softly. God, Alex hated feeling vulnerable and weak.. but that’s how he felt now, in labor, without the reassurance of the father of their child being there.

Thomas pulled his laptop onto his lap and opened it, immediately searching for flights back home. He felt like yelling when he saw the soonest one's time. “Six hours..” he said in disbelief. It would probably end up being closer to eight hours with wait times and whatnot. Alex groaned. He felt like sobbing. Thomas knew that. “It’s okay, sugar. I'll stay on the phone with you until I get on the plane. Then whenever I can call again I will.” He said. This was the best they could do.

After a six hour plane ride and one hour Uber, there Thomas was. In the hallway counting the room numbers down. “207.. 205.. 203..”He stopped when he reached the last door. Room 201, Alexander’s room. His heart was beating so fast from all the running, but also his nerves and anticipation. He breathed heavily as he grabbed the doorknob, knocked a bit, and opened the door. “Alex..?”

He didn’t see what he was expecting to see. Thomas thought Alex would be there, writhing in pain as he labored. He had received no text on the Uber ride there from anyone about anything, so he just assumed that he was still in labor. But, no. He saw a tired Alex laying in bed and resting his eyes, along with Alexander and Angelica’s bags. She was nowhere in sight though. He took all his surroundings in for just a second before rushing at Alex’s side. The tired man opened his eyes and turned his head to Thomas as he took his hand. Hey.. you’re late.” He said with a soft chuckle. Thomas laughed a little, tears pricking the sides of his eyes. He kissed Alexander’s forehead gently. “No.. you’re kid’s just early.”

Thomas then just had a realization. Alex had the baby without him there. He squeezed Alex’s hand and brought it to his forehead. “I’m so sorry, Alex! I shouldn’t have gone like you told me b-but I’m stupid a-and a pushover when it-it- I’m sorry baby-!” He exclaimed a bit. He wanted to keep rambling on and one, and he would have if it weren’t for Alex hushing him. “Thomas, shhh. He’s sleeping.” Alex told him, a bit annoyed. He had just had a baby and had gotten him to sleep. He’d let Thomas kiss his feet later and apologize but not now. Not then there was a sleeping newborn right across the small room.

Thomas looked up at Alex again with small tears on his cheeks. “He’s.. sleeping?’ Thomas asked softly. Alex just smiled a bit and pointed to the hospital bassinet across the room. “Our son. It’s a boy” Alex said in a sing-song voice. Thomas looked to it for a minute straight. He then let go of Alex’s hand softly and walked ever so slowly to it. Inside was, of course, a pink, sleeping baby, Wrapped in yellow with a matching hat. His features weren’t too prominent yet.. but he had Alex’s nose, and some messy curls poking out of the hat. “Can I-“ he began, but was cut off by Alex. “You don’t need to ask to hold him.” Alex yawned out, laying back into his pillow.

Ever so slowly, Thomas took the baby into his arms and held him close to his chest. The baby stirred ever so slightly at being picked up, but slept on. “Philip..” Thomas whispered to the newborn, smiling down at his son. He sat back down next to Alex, Alex looking at him and the baby while smiling. “You should have heard how loud he is.. well you will eventually, but he’s definitely cut out to be a politician like his papa and daddy.” Alex said quietly. Thomas agreed silently. He couldn’t help but still feeling guilty for not being there but couldn’t take his eyes off of Philip. The newborn has the sweetest chubby cheeks and cutest nose. Thomas gently rubbed a thumb on the baby’s cheek.

Baby Philip reached his little hand up and grabbed onto Thomas’s thumb. “He’s so strong..” Thomas chuckled softly, about to cry over how cute it was. Philip opened his squinty eyes a moment to look at Thomas. They were that newborn blue, but were expected to turn color in just a day or so. “Hi, Philip. I’m your daddy.. remember hearing me?" He asked with a coo. Philip just made a few small noises and closed his eyes again, Thomas’s thumb still tightly clutched in his little fist. Thomas leaned over and gave Alex a gentle kiss before laying his head on top of Alex’s. They both admired the little life they made together. “He’s perfect.”

[tiggyloo]

Can’t Hold On - Chapter 1 - Pain

hey what’s up I finished chapter one of this. Dunno how long it’s going to end up being in total so that’ll be fun to figure out. (also on AO3 and FF.net which are linked in my desc.)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - FINAL

~~~

[The Gems had discovered Steven's worsening corruption after his attempts to hide it had failed. It's been many weeks since they found out, and they've been trying nonstop to find a cure. They had to believe there was a way to fix this, some way to stop it from getting even worse, but time was starting to run out. || this story is based on the Corrupt Steven Theory]

“Night lights are for kids.”

“You are a kid, Steven.”

Pearl was crouched in Steven’s room by the bed, plugging a small night light into a socket. The light was shaped like a sun behind a cloud. She had gotten it from Greg earlier; he said it used to be Steven’s when he was very young, before he moved in with the Gems. She had only just told Steven about it a few minutes ago, as it was getting late and he’d be going to bed soon.

Steven mumbled something as Pearl stood up and she put her hands on her hips. “You haven’t been able to sleep almost at all for the past five weeks, Steven. Not since…this—” she gestured to the small horns protruding from Steven’s skull “—Started happening.” She sighed.

“Pearl, I—I’m fine, I just—” Steven stammered as Pearl sat next to him on his bed.

“Listen, Steven…I know this is all hard. It’s hard on everyone. We’re all doing our best to find a cure for this…or at least something to stop it from getting worse. Just, work with me. This…this is the best I’ve got, okay?” Pearl placed her hand on the boy’s and gave it a squeeze.

The other Gems were off searching for something today. It was Pearl’s turn to stay home. Next would be Amethyst’s, then Garnet. They’d been taking turns watching him and going out, watching him, going out, ever since they discovered his corruption. It would be several days before the small party of two returned to swap out. Steven was never allowed to join them.

He’d hidden corruption from them. They noticed changes, but didn’t think much of them; he started wearing sneakers one day, wearing a hooded jacket another. Steven had claimed that he was just trying new clothes, and that was that. Nothing too out of the ordinary for Steven. Those excuses, however, did not work for long.

He had dark purple splotches visible on his hands and legs, four inch long horns coming out of his head. He had claws on his hands and feet. His whole body felt sore. And ever since this started he’d been having…hallucinations at night when he’d try to sleep. They’ve gotten worse in the past couple weeks. There are things in the dark, things Steven knows aren’t real but at the same time their presence is so strong.

“I think the light will help, Steven,” Pearl said gently. “I know you don’t want it. But a little light can keep things away. It’s worth a try.”

Steven looked at the little night light in his wall and rested his head on Pearl’s shoulder. She was probably right. He hoped so. He was so tired…

“I’m scared, Pearl.”

Pearl hummed sadly and put her arm around him.

“We all are,” she said quietly, rubbing his arm. They were all so scared. When the pool didn’t work, even with the Diamonds, they had all started to panic, including the Diamonds. Spinel took it especially bad. She’d been crying into Steven’s jacket for a solid thirty minutes when the healing pool didn’t work. Her first real friend in six thousand years was…losing himself. No one wanted that. Certainly not her.

Everyone was terrified.

Pearl stood up. “Try and get some sleep tonight,” she said, leaning down to give Steven a kiss on his forehead. He smiled up at her. Ever since this started she’d been giving him kisses. It helped, just a little bit. Pearl went and switch the night light on, turned the lights off, and quietly walked down the stairs. Steven didn’t hear the door close. She never closed it completely.

The night light gave off a soft yellow glow. Not much, but enough to cover the majority of the room in a vague light. The darkness wasn’t so crippling tonight.

Steven settled himself under his blanket and stared at the light. He stared for a while. He looked around his room. Nothing was standing in the shadows to watch him. That was good. With a small amount of comfort in his heart he closed his eyes.

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

He slept for several hours. More than he had been recently. But it was still dark when he woke up, a sudden pain in his sides forcing him awake. Steven had never felt a pain like this. It was scorching hot yet freezing cold, the pain so extreme that he almost didn’t feel it. His agonized yell brought Pearl barreling up the stairs to his room and the lights came on.

Steven’s body had reacted so violently to the pain that he’d fallen to the ground, writhing and groaning, tangled in his blanket. His eyes were shut tight and tears were streaming down his face.

“Steven!” Pearl yelped, running over, but she froze when Steven’s eyes snapped open. They were black, pure black, irises white and glowing, and they bore right through her. He was growling at her, a sound so guttural and aggressive that she actually stumbled back a few feet.

Steven appeared to be fighting himself, his expression changing from anger to pain to fear and back again in a grotesque distortion of emotions. He managed to kick away the blanket, only after slicing a few holes in it with his claws. Pearl gasped.

Two new additions to the corruption had taken form. A pair of dark purple arms had sprouted from his sides and pushed through Steven’s shirt, moving in a spasm. They stretched and twitched and grabbed at nothing and everything while Steven continued to growl and moan on the floor.

Pearl swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped closer to Steven. His eyes were closed again and he was breathing heavily, squirming painfully, growling, whimpering, and wailing. Pearl didn’t know what to do. She reached out toward him.

Steven screamed a deep, gravelly scream when he sensed her closeness and blindly lashed out. Pearl let out a sharp squeal and fell backwards when he connected. Steven’s claws had slashed down her arm and caught her knee. The light that made her body shone brightly from the cuts for a few seconds before the spaces reformed, leaving what looked like scars. She’d been slashed and cut and stabbed and received every other menagerie of injuries one could think of, but nothing had quite felt like that, nothing had ever left marks like that.

The noise she made, the look of shock and fear on her face, it did something to Steven. His growling stopped abruptly, replaced by a high-pitched crying and his eyes went wide. He was shuffling backwards and bumped into his bed. Pearl couldn’t read his expression. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even cry. She didn’t know what was happening.

Steven had pressed himself against the bed frame and was shaking so hard Pearl swore she felt it. Then Steven was crying out again, falling onto his side once more as he gripped his head. His claws dug into his skin, his new pair of arms mindlessly grabbing at each other. A few long minutes went by before the boy’s breathing, while still heavy, calmed down. If Pearl had a heart it’d be pounding in her chest.

Steven slowly looked up. His eyes were back to normal, aside from the pure, unrestrained fear pooling in them. Tears finally started falling down Pearl’s cheeks.

“P-Pearl?” Steven almost whispered, his voice hoarse. He saw his own fear reflected in her shining eyes.

He suddenly felt something…wrong, more wrong than before. His hands moved away from his head as he looked down his body. He scrambled up off the ground in a panic when he saw the arms twitching at his sides. It almost appeared as though they were trying to mimic the others as Steven moved. His terrified gaze locked with Pearl’s.

“Pearl!” he cried, quickly crawling over and throwing himself around her. He felt her flinch hard when he touched her. “I-I’m sorry-y, Pearl! I didn’t-want to hu-rt you. I-I didn’t mean to-!”

Finally, Pearl managed to shake herself out of her frozen state, looking down at Steven sobbing into her chest. His claws held her in a death grip. Her movements started slow, hesitant. Her mind was racing.

Then her arms came up in a flash and pulled Steven in. Tears flooded from their eyes as they sat in each other’s presence. Pearl felt two more hands latch onto her.

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

The warp pad activated and there stood Garnet and Amethyst, looking exhausted. It was around five in the morning and the lights were dimmed. The pair walked into the main room, faces downcast and hands empty.

“No luck, I assume,” came Pearl’s soft voice from the couch. The others didn’t reply. Or, they couldn’t reply. Garnet and Amethyst could only stare at Pearl, who was holding Steven ever so delicately, and Steven, who was lying against Pearl, asleep—and with two new arms draped on either side of her.

No one said anything for a long time. Amethyst dropped to her knees. Garnet gripped the kitchen counter to steady herself. Pearl didn’t look up from Steven’s sleeping form. She heard Garnet’s form waver and her eyes shut tight as Amethyst rose to her feet to try and comfort Garnet before she split. The purple Gem talked softly, doing her absolute best to keep her voice steady while the other tried to hold it together.

Pearl was listening helplessly. She and Amethyst had talked to Garnet previously about this whole thing, and Garnet said, no matter how many times she tried, that she couldn’t see a future where they stopped this. Of course, she’d been wrong before. There were things that she never saw that happened. So they kept going, kept searching, but it was getting so hard to continue. They continued because Garnet’s been wrong before. But the longer they went, the less likely it seemed that Garnet even could be wrong about this. There were hundreds of possibilities, all pointing to failure.

Eventually Amethyst managed to calm Garnet down enough that she stopped morphing. That’s when Pearl looked up. They all looked at each other.

None of them could last much longer like this.

[heroinkspots]

Catharsis; Aizawa / Reader

SUMMARY ( You knew the man you loved could die. You were certain you had accepted it, had moved on from the constant anxiety that makes heroes insomniacs. But when you visit Aizawa in the hospital post-USJ Incident, you’re smacked with the reality there are some losses you can’t help but dread, yet zero you can prevent. )

One finger down.

Breathe.

Two fingers.

Breaking News: Erasure Hero Gets Critically Injured in USJ Aftermath, Current Condition Unknown!

Up next on Channel 86: at five o'clock, Dr. Oishi Hotaka and Dr. Yasuda Kurou broadcast live to discuss the recent developments about the USJ Incident and the repercussions for hero society going forward.

Three.

"I respect your opinion on this matter, Kurou-san, but I personally don't believe Japan can continue with the current status quo! UA's safety standards have declined dramatically in the past few decades, and their negligence will go on for as long as the public and the parents of these students allow it- which, I dare say, won't be long at all. Not long at all, my friend. We'll soon see that what we're giving these children, in UA and across the country in similar hero academies, is a subpar education, with more risks than benefits..and the most horrifying of these risks now includes the potential of their life being stolen from them at fifteen, sixteen years old."

”Well, that signals the end of our slot for tonight, viewers! Join us here next week for a live conference meeting of—"

F..four.

That announcer was right. He was scarily right. Civilians could turn off their television should they be the smallest bit uncomfortable while they were watching their heroes sacrifice their sanity, their every selfish human desire and sometimes even their lives to protect the masses that watcher belonged to.

To them, Shota was a headline. He was a vague concept, a will 'o wisp leading them home to a sense of safety, but he couldn't be felt with the hands nor seen with the eyes nor experienced with the heart. He was so underground you doubted they could recall his name without having it spoonfed to them by another copycat, know-it-all Dr. Oishi Hotaka reading off a script designed to spark outrage instead of reasonable thought. Introspection didn't sell well. Introspection didn't toss TV show hosts intriguing material to cover and it didn't grant jobs to reporters.

The truth was a bitter pill nobody liked to swallow. And if citizens didn't like the truth, they'd switch to a different channel to hear white noise that tasted good; and the Hotakas couldn't afford that, could they?

Five fingers you'd used up.

He had broken thirteen separate bones–nearly a third of the fingers you'd used so far for this stupid counting exercise. You had heard a summary of the damage from his doctors prior to standing where you stood now, and you had memorized it like a prayer of thanksgiving.

Shota couldn't be hurt if he was dead. Only a living man had the privilege of suffering pain. And dead..dead was your worst nightmare. The imaginary picture of his cold corpse made crippling injury seem like a reverie of inconceivable fortune in comparison.

Six.

Crushed orbital floor, fractured clavicle, nasal fracture, parietal bone oblique fractures, severe left elbow fractures (segmental break in his humerus bone, fractures half as destructive in his radius and ulna), one direct skull fracture—

Thirteen bones, thirteen of your fucking failures.

Seven.

You knew not to overreact. That was why you and Shota had gotten along brilliantly to begin with. You weren't a clingy partner who longed to ensure he was safe to your exacting requirements, but a fellow hero in his stead, laser-focused on furthering your ambitious climb to the top and holding down your position within the twenties once you had garnered your status. You respected him and how obviously reserved he could be, embracing his trepidation about placing himself in the spotlight as a virtue instead of a flaw..and for that, mutual respect bloomed into love in your second year of UA.

You and him had persevered because you were identically persevering personalities. You solved your arguments fairly and calmly, you conceded to his wishes and him to yours, crafting compromises and tempering spots of flickering flame before they could graze gasoline. You took pride in the fact that you knew the consequence of your professions, and you were willing to take his loss with his love.

Your logic couldn't have prepared you for USJ.

Shota Aizawa, that quiet, seemingly stern and uncaring, infuriating, loyal and self-sacrificing son of a bitch hadn't just gone out and danced with Death; he'd preformed a suspiciously intimate tango with her, gotten her number, invited her out for drinks and kissed her on the mouth when their date concluded.

And there was little logic to be found in the strong Pro Hero reduced to incomprehensible sobbing and bawling in the hospital breakroom mere minutes earlier.

Eight.

You'd cried so heavily you had to muffle your mouth with your sweater so passing staff wouldn't be alerted to the sounds of your emotional breakdown. Feeling that fabric grow damp and sticky with the flood of your agonized tears, the humilation stung at you, but it was faint and trivial when measured against the surge of your dominant emotions: anger–anger at yourself, anger at the villains who would target and hunt children purely to force a pathway to All Might, anger at this world which normalized casualty and tragedy; fear that this was the beginning of the so-called Villain League's attacks and that Shota, and by extension, you, would be at the forefront of countless battles; and the knowledge that your Pro license didn't do a damn thing for you.

Could you genuinely label yourself a Hero if you couldn't save your lover of a decade?

It wasn't a lack of faith on your behalf, or you discounting his abilities–you were aware of his skill. You saw how he built himself up to be the highly specialized, skilled Eraserhead; but regardless of how formidable the person, you would pity the unfortunate soul who had the might of Hell and high water bearing down on their head.

You would pity yourself in that situation too.

Nine. Last finger to put down.

You had counted so you could collect yourself, present a solid face to Shota when you finally entered his room, but your efforts were in vain. Your eyes were damp again, and you rubbed them furiously on your sleeve, the irritated rims puffing out from the blood rushing to your temple. Shota's voice rang out- you were effectively busted.

"Come in."

The abruptness made you release a watery chuckle. The recovery room's observation window was advertised as being "one-way," as if that would hinder your lover's keen perception of his surroundings. His demonstration of sharpness eased your concerns to a degree. After all, dead bodies were usually less talkative and dumber than he was being..but you wanted to, no, needed to see him desperately.

"I came as soon as I heard what happened." Your voice shook when your gaze locked with his, peering through the stiff bandaged cast at you, one eyelid firmly shut and quivering with the other parted lazily and projecting an unshakable confidence in your direction. Shota's resolve wasn't frigid indifference but rather reliability, a slowly seeping warmth you could fall back on whenever standing by yourself felt impossible. He looked at you as if you were the wounded party between the pair of you, as if he could tell you wanted to run and he was convincing you you didn't have to–because his relentless determination would stay permanently untouched, and so would he. Unchanging, reassuring.

"But I was already on the plane when I received the news, so I..dammit, I was helpless. I..I just sat there, Shota. Sat there and watched as the headlines rolled in, as the media scrambled for some coherent information to pump out. I sat there for an awful twelve hours– that's how much time it took me to get a one-stop plane ride back to Japan and land. And by then, USJ was completely cleared of people. I heard you were in the hospital and had to track you down out of all the fucking confidential hero hospitals you could potentially be in." You balled your fists in your hair, working a dent into the floor beneath you from your agitated pacing.

You nervously glanced at him before averting your eyeline to the walls. Shame curled within you. "I had no idea where you were located, whether you were dead or injured or comatose," you whispered weakly.

Shota cleared his throat, and although it was dry, scratchy and emerged mainly as a pained gurgling bursting from his chest, your attention was on him anyway. Your head snapped towards him and you flinched as you saw him struggling to prop himself up in the bed. You rushed forward to help, but he fared on his own, evenutally pushing himself into a sitting position with the pillows for extra padding to keep him stable. He stared at you wordlessly, his mouth drawn taut in a frustrated, sad grimace until he patted the bed beside him for you to sit.

You agreed.

"We've had this conversation before, you know," he mumbled into your shoulder. You startled, your muscles jerking at the tickling sensation of his bandage wrap. That minute detail almost caused you to tumble into hysterics once more. Shit, it was annoying and the reflex was inconvenient, but it was a beacon of hope that you could be annoyed–the rubbing and tickling told you Shota's going to be okay since, look, you had the evidence of repair brushing against you to remind you. Persistently.

"We have?" You promoted him, nudging him with the gentleness you would save for a young child.

Shota sighed, puffing air through his nose, and sobered up fast; his demeanor returned to serious thoughtfulness as he straightened, his stature strangely close to traditional etiquette despite being bedridden. You waited in anticipation for him to gather himself and speak.

"We have. When we were twenty year olds rookies with brains thicker than concrete. I was dwelling on a mother and son I had failed to save in a rescue from months before. But it was you who told me– 'the past is worthless until you use it to improve your future, Aizawa, and it becomes worse than worthless when you allow it to impede your future. That mother and her little boy wouldn't want their memory to hold you back from becoming the hero I'm certain you can be. It's doing a disservice to them if you don't take advantage of those mistakes to avoid repeating them.'"

You froze. "Shota, that's not the same situation and you know it's not. I..goddammit, I was lost and confused in a foreign country fighting for a way to get back and I couldn't contact you, I couldn't figure out who made it through, you or the kids or All Might. Or Thirteen. There's a considerable disparity between that and immediate, subconscious mistakes you make in the field. That was no mistake-that was a gaping lack of oversight on my part. That was failure."

Shota raised his brow, unimpressed. "Fine, then. You failed.”

"So what?"

"So you become better for the sake of the people you believe you failed."

You felt like smacking your head against the bed frame. Him and his logical ruses, God. Never giving ground to you, but countering you with few words delivered concisely and setting you up to arrive at a preplanned destination but changing your course before you could catch up to where he'd cleverly spun the talk this round. You couldn't muster exasperation when you glared at him, however–your glare melted into fondness at the minuscule grin he wore and the overwhelming exhaustion and tenderness beneath his layer of amusement.

You were tired and hungry, Shota was tired and hungry, and you ached to hug him and refuse to let go forever.

You could start on attaining your ideal existence by filling your stomach.

"Hey, do you want food?" Affirmative grunt. "Would you like me to go get some?" Equally affirmative grunt. With his enthusiastic approval, you left his designated room and wandered throughout the hospital. It took longer than you would have supposed, but you came back to greet him with armfuls of instant ramen, oden, and sugary treats you bought solely to indulge yourself but tried to frame as 'purchases for two'.

"I brought you the fanciest cuisine they have avaliable in their vending machines," you said. Shota snorted as you dumped the packages across the visitor's chair and gently dropped into your place beside him on the bed, careful not to hit him or disturb his wounds.

Your hand wound up to the crown of his head, where your hand tangled into the strands of his hair, fingers squeezing the tangled mess it was. "Can I tempt you?" You muttered into his ear.

He hummed noncommitally, his lips quirking. "I trust you." You had to restrain yourself from smiling so wide that you scared off your quarry, a pleased smugness rising from how naturally and freely he delivered that.

His humming turned from casual to an evident sign of contentment as your faithful ministrations endured for a while. It wasn't quite normalcy with how you tucked the pads of your fingers in so they wouldn't grace his forehead and circled a cautious breadth around all regions of his face, but it was adequate to drive your fears into some rarely ventured corner of your mind to torture you at a later date.

Definitely became more adequate when Shota passed out draped on your form. He was slouching, his nose buried in the crook of your neck and his unharmed right hand motionless on your leg. When you shuffled subtly to get a nicer angle and actually see the wonderful sight you had achieved, he groaned in protest, and you couldn't find it in yourself to attempt to leave when he was smiling. Deviously soft, and oblivious to your judgment–he was smiling in his sleep.

Most who had to deal with him would deal with Aizawa, the hardass teacher or Aizawa, the workaholic who could be seen bent over his laptop at ungodly hours of morning and night grading papers and drafting reports for his principal. Some unlucky fools would be pursued by him and would be petrified when Eraserhead's eerie crimson irises fell upon them, stripping them of the controlled sense of superiority they clung to as their refuge.

But you knew a secret an extremely select few were privy to. You knew that his shell was dense and tough yet brittle, a personification of intimidating traits he adopted when they served him, and he was a bleeding heart for the victims of the world who couldn't fight for themselves, for those children he taught who had glinting stars inside them he would never permit to be stamped out.

And that was why you were terrified. Because you knew he was breakable.