#i came here very shortly after having to put down my heart dog
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hey y'all.
I know fic updates have been slow and I've been kind of here and there recently but I wanted to give a heads-up that I may disappear for a while longer. Tomorrow my partner and I are committing to a difficult decision concerning our fifteen year old dog. The days of and after will be especially difficult so, though I don't forsee me going entirely MiA, I thought y'all deserved an explanation for me going quiet.
I'll still be around, just not as active. Thanks all 💕
#muzz mumbles#I'm not going to disappear entirely#I use Distraction to cope#and fandom to cope#which means I'll still be here#will try to remain social so I don't fall into the spiral of self isolation#this community is and has always been a comfort to me#i came here very shortly after having to put down my heart dog#and the love in this community helped me keep going#now I just have to do it all over again
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Ok here we go. My first poolverine idea. So it’s simple you have Alpha Worst!Logan who is known as a monstrous alpha no sane omega dared to be with for more than a night in his universe(even before the x-men were killed) and Omega Wade who lost his looks after everything with Francis and smells like death enough that no worthy alpha spares him a glance for more than a night. That’s background, the scene I’m specifically picturing is Logan being unable to take not saying anything about his feelings for Wade anymore and presenting Wade with a courtship gift(Logan’s dog tags because I love that idea); I don’t know who is more surprised Wade(because who would a beauty who is no longer beautiful) that Logan wants to court him(ie wants him as a mate) or Logan(because who wants a beast that will never become a prince) when Wade doesn’t hesitate(after being sure Logan is serious) to accept(putting the dog tags around his neck immediately).
Here you go! It’s a little longer than I anticipated but I got a little carried away. I also posted it on my AO3. I hope you like it!!
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“C’mon. You can do this.” Logan whispered under his breath to the reflection of himself in the water-spotted mirror of his bathroom. The bathroom was sparsely decorated, much like the rest of his apartment which he had acquired shortly after Wade had asked him to come home with him.
It wasn’t that Wade and Al’s apartment was too small or that Logan wanted more (in fact the apartment he had chosen was much smaller than Wade’s despite having been given more than enough money to survive on by the TVA) but rather that it made him too close to the merc for comfort.
Wade had delightfully informed him that due to the apartment’s cramped size he would have to share the sofa bed with him. Which at first sounded fine; he had shared many a bed with people before in hostels, barracks, etc.
This was different.
That first night, Wade had bound out of the bathroom in his My Melody pajamas, a plump unicorn plush tucked cutely under his arm.
“Are you ready for the most fun sleepover ever? I went out and got so many snacks. There’s mini Reese’s cups, Sour Patch Kids… I even found a box of Jujubes waaaay back in one of the cupboards that I THINK is from the 80’s but come on, they’ve got so much preservatives we’ll probably be fine… plus our teeth grow back if we break them anyway so—“
“I’d rather just get some sleep, Wade. We kind of had a long day remember?” Logan was wearing an oversized shirt that said “Obi-Wan ComeBoneMe” that he had graciously borrowed from the other man, as well as some heart patterned boxers.
“Yeah, ok. I am pretty tired.” Wade said, obviously not very tired, as he plopped down next to Logan.
Logan gave him a sort of half-smile.
“Goodnight, Wade.”
“Night, Peanut.”
Wade reached over and turned off the table lamp. Logan waited for the inevitable yapping to start… but it never came. Despite being seemingly full of energy mere minutes prior, Wade fell asleep quickly. He was drooling.
Sleep never came easy for Logan, however. He stared at the dark ceiling, his mind racing, going over every detail of the past few days, back to the day Wade found him, plastered in that bar, wishing he could die.
He thought of Scott, of Jean. The people he let down. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and his breath quickened a bit. A familiar feeling.
As he gripped the sheets beneath him, waiting for the panic to set in, Wade moved in his sleep. His arm went over Logan and he cuddled his face into his neck. He was mumbling something about a taco truck.
Logan went stiff. His heart was racing, yet a strange calm washed over him, almost like an ecstasy. It was Wade’s scent. They had been close like this before, many times… but there had been too many distractions: blood, adrenaline, his own anger. Here in the quiet of the night, it was amplified.
Wade’s scent was uniquely his own. There were layers to it, like a designer perfume. The most prevalent smell, which is what most alphas would abhor, was death. A sickly sweet warning provided by the cancer that ravaged his body, the cancer that his healing factor kept at bay.
Logan, however, had a nose that was far more keen. And as he lie there, just slowly breathing in and out, the base layer became more prevalent. This was Wade’s original scent: his omega flavor.
It somewhat startled Logan that he hadn’t noticed this before. Wade was an omega. How could he have not sensed it? Of course no one else did either, it seemed… maybe it was the fact that his smell of decay was too strong for the average alpha to scent… maybe it was just that Wade’s power to annoy and piss people off was so distracting that even if someone did get a whiff they thought it couldn’t be true. But it was.
And it was intoxicating.
In the morning that followed, Logan awoke to Wade nudging his nose into Logan’s neck.
“Mornin,’” he said, his voice full of sleep, as he sat up and stretched. “Guess I really was too tired, I don’t even remember falling asleep. How’d you sleep, pumpkin?”
“….great,” Logan said, surprised by his answer. He really did.
Wade rambled on about breakfast and how he had to take Mary Puppins out for a walk, but the rest of the conversation sort of became noise to Logan. He was unable to process anything. All he could think was…
It was dangerous.
He was dangerous.
He was reminded of all the people he had loved in the past. How he always ended up (either physically or emotionally) hurting them.
And so that day, he had left.
It wasnt too hard to find an apartment. People in this world thought he was the other Logan- the brave, selfless Logan. So someone cut him a deal on a tiny apartment that was about a twenty minute walk from Wade’s.
At first he hadn’t thought to really buy any furniture. He thought that just sleeping on a mattress on the floor was enough. But when Wade had invited himself over the following day and said “damn bitch, you live like this?” He decided to get a couch.
Then a few days after that, Wade had showed up with a bunch of food. He tried to protest but the other man had already bodied himself through the door, Mary Puppins in tow.
They ate together on the couch and watched YouTube videos on Wade’s phone. He didn’t know what a “Minecraft Let’s Play” was but it didn’t really matter. The next day, he found a cheap dinner table with two chairs on Craigslist.
And so it continued. Wade would visit every day, with a big smile on his face and dinner in a bag. And every night he’d go home, but his scent lingered. Logan found that he would sleep on the couch instead of his floor mattress because it was where Wade had been sitting all night.
It was strange to not have night terrors.
It was even stranger that Wade, an omega, had been leaving his scent on everything and yet it hadn’t drove Logan crazy. The past had been so predictable: an omega would leave their scent as invitation for a rough night from a rough man. Most got more than they bargained for. None ever stayed.
Before he knew it, months had passed. His apartment was still barebones by most people’s standards but he had the essentials. Mostly thanks to Laura.
“Thanks again for helping me figure this thing out,” he said, tossing his smartphone on the table. It was a Saturday, which was usually the day they spent time together.
“Well you did say the phones in your universe were different.” Laura said, after swallowing a mouthful of Corn Flakes.
“Yeah they were like little bricks and the screens were like green and black. But you couldn’t break em if you tried.”
“So when are you gonna tell him?” She said with her mouth full.
“Tell who what?” Logan’s brow furrowed as he emerged from the fridge with a cold beer.
“Wade.” Chew chew.
“Okay. And what am I telling him?” He asked before cracking the can open and throwing it back.
“That you want him to be your mate.” Chew.
Logan inhaled, choking on liquid. He doubled over, sputtering.
“Cmon,” Laura said. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell it on you. I can smell him everywhere. Scent doesn’t lie.”
And so here he was. It had been about two weeks since she had brought it up and it took him three days to accept it. Three days of Wade coming over and Logan finally noticing how his heart swelled whenever he looked at him, how he felt less annoyed by his constant jokes, how his flirting made a heat rise up in his chest.
The rest of the time was him building up the courage to confess.
“God.” Logan looked down at his left hand which was balled into a fist, a long ball chain hanging down from it. Slowly his fist opened and he stared at the metallic tags that bore his name.
“Cmon. You’re not a teenager. This ain’t prom. Just do it.” he started to walk towards the door, but stopped, feeling a wave of nausea. I can’t. He won’t want you. He flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.
Just as he started to turn around, a voice came from the other side of the door.
“Wolvy? Did you fall in or something?” There was a knock. “I didn’t bring my water wings I don’t know if I’ll be able to fish you —“
Logan opened the door.
“—out. Oh good you’re ok.” There was Wade, grinning at him like an idiot. A stupid, adorable, lovable moron. Logan suppressed the urge to hug him to his chest.
“Sorry.” He said, pushing past the other, as if he were going to the dinner table. It was covered with white Chinese food boxes. “Don’t you think you went a little overboard? There’s enough here for ten people.”
“Yeah sorry. But the lady that runs that place threatened to poison me if I didn’t get one of everything cuz her restaurant is close to going bankrupt and she had this huge knife—“
Logan had stepped up to Wade and covered his mouth with a hand.
Only moments ago, he had thought “it’s now or never” but now that Wade was shut up the silence felt smothering. Logan lowered his hand.
“I…. Uh….” God his throat was dry. Why was it so hot in there?
Wade looked bewildered, his beautiful mouth slightly agape, and Logan couldn’t help but think about how kissable his lips were.
“So I uh… been thinking…” he started, cursing himself for rambling. Shouldn’t this be romantic? Why was he so shit with words when it mattered?
“That uh… maybe you could wear these.” He held up his hand, palm up, almost showcasing the tags. “For me.”
Wade’s eyes had been glued to Logan’s face as he talked. He slowly lowered them, until they rested on the glinting metal.
“…..your…. Those are your tags.” He said, his voice uncharacteristically small.
“Yeah.”
“But that would…. mean…”
“Yeah.”
Logan couldn’t tell what sort of expression Wade had on. He was staring blankly at the tags, before he looked up and locked eyes with him.
“That’s not funny.” Wade said, his eyes glassy, as though he were holding back tears.
“What- what do you mean funny? I’m being serious.” Logan said.
“Right. Mr Most-Handsome-Man-in-the-Universe, courting Pizza the Hutt.”
Logan didn’t know that reference. “Huh??”
“Hello??” Wade waved his hand over his own face. “Freddy Krueger’s Ball Sack? The Mince Meat Special? Arby’s Beef and Cheddar?!” A small tear has snuck its way down his face.
Logan couldn’t believe it. He had been so obsessed with the thought that Wade would reject him for being, well, the worst Wolverine, he didn’t plan for this scenario.
“You’re not ugly.” He stated, factually. It was starting to make him mad, the way Wade was talking about himself.
“Okay, now I know you’re going senile. We’re gonna have to get you some glasses grandpa, because I literally make babies cry. I am so ugly that—“
“Shut up.” Logan growled, before taking a step forward and pressing his lips to Wade’s. When Wade didn’t kiss back, he pulled away.
Had he made a mistake? Of course he had. Why would Wade want a failure like him? He couldn’t even get his feelings across right.
“You….” Wade said, blinking dumbly. “You kissed me.”
Logan felt shame. He swallowed, ready to apologize.
“You’re… serious? You want me?” Wade asked, his voice small again.
Logan couldn’t find his voice. He just nodded once.
A grin slowly spread across Wade’s face. He leaned forward, bowing his head. Logan almost forgot to breathe as he shakily unclasped the ball chain and placed it around Wade’s neck, securing it behind him.
When Logan let go, Wade stood up straight, Logan’s dog tags around his neck.
“Well? How do I look?” Wade asked, his grin never faltering.
“Beautiful.” Logan answered. And he was. Beautiful. His.
“Oooh does this mean we’re gonna bump uglies now?!”
His beautiful idiot.
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SessKagu Week Day 2: Royalty/Arranged Marriage
NOTE: The traditional twelve-step Shinto wedding ritual was formalized in the late 1800s, long after the Sengoku period. For that reason, and as I don’t feel like demon customs would exactly match those of humans anyway, I have only utilized a few elements of that process in their wedding here.
When Kagura enters her father’s hall that morning, she assumes it’s to be punished for running away again. Best case scenario, she’s been called to join the audience for one of his disturbing tantrums (whoever this ‘Kikyo’ is, Kagura hopes she’s having a very nice life somewhere far, far away.)
She does not expect him to stare down at her with a twisted version of pride and say, “Kagura, you will be wed this afternoon.”
It makes even less sense the more details she manages to drag out of him. She, the wind demon princess of a starving kingdom with half-human heritage (not that her father tells anyone about that) has been betrothed to a dog demon prince in one of the Western territories. The oldest son, a powerful daiyokai, whose entire personality can apparently be summed up as ‘cold-hearted bastard with exactly one friend.’
Most stunning of all, the request came to Naraku directly from the prince’s mother. Kagura suspects that she either has a dark sense of humor or that this ‘Sesshomaru’ must be the unfavorite.
She watches Naraku pack a chest of things for her to take, and can’t help herself: “You won’t release my heart, even to my husband?”
“Please, Kagura.” Her father offers her a smirk that makes a murderous intent burn in the pit of her stomach. “Hearts have nothing to do with marriage.”
Kagura tears the skin from the palms of her hands and curses him under her breath.
She briefly considers taking the opportunity to run away again. But just before she departs, Naraku takes the cloth purse that he always wears tied to his belt, and gives it a rough squeeze. Kagura falls to her knees in the dirt, choking, while he speaks over her.
“If I receive word that you’ve run off, or that they are in any way unsatisfied with you? This is gentle, compared to what you’ll get.”
No one is there to greet her, when her feather touches down at the base of a great stone hall. Kagura drags the wooden chest around in circles before she finally spies a sour-faced frog in the shadow of a door.
“Oi,” she shouts, not bothering to be polite. “Where should I go for the wedding?”
His bottom lip wobbles, as though she’s insulted him greatly, before thrusting one arm out towards the left. Kagura sighs aloud and walks past him straight into a flower-bedecked hall.
For such a fancy establishment, the guests for the wedding are few in number. A trio of wolf demons dressed in soldier’s uniforms, an ancient tree demon in a ceramic pot (what poor soul had to go dig him up), and a messy-haired boy who looks more upset than she does. She notes the ears and lack of facial markings and pegs him as a half-demon, which would be curious enough on its own if a human priestess didn’t pop up from around a corner to take his arm in an awfully familiar way.
A flood of powerful energy hits the back of her neck. Kagura twists around so fast that one of her earrings pulls free. It hits the stone floor with a click that seems unbearably loud.
“You must be Kagura.” A daiyokai that is so stunningly beautiful and terrifying that she must be the queen smiles down at her. Her jūnihitoe is old-fashioned and yet still a million times nicer than the white kimono that Kagura put on this morning. Or anything else she owns. Perhaps it’s normal, in this kingdom, for the groom’s mother to outshine the bride?
“Yo,” she stammers out, and immediately regrets it.
The queen’s smile widens. Her teeth seem to sharpen under Kagura’s stare. “You’re absolutely perfect. My son will be here shortly.”
Then the trio of soldiers surround her; in a short moment, the chest is liberated from her hold, flowers are threaded within her hair, and Kagura is placed at the front of the room with a ceremonial cup of sake in her hands.
She’s still trying to get her bearings when there is a gentle tug on her sleeve.
“You dropped this!” The human priestess that she noted earlier whispers with a sweet grin. Kagura’s earring glimmers in her hand. “It’s beautiful, by the way!”
Kagura stares, wondering how the fuck she can be so cheerful when surrounded by so many powerful creatures who could kill her with barely an effort. The woman’s smile falters. She reaches forward and gently fastens the piece of jewelry back into place.
“Good luck, your majesty,” she whispers, like anything about this is within Kagura’s control, and runs back to her original place. The half-demon companion’s ears have gone flat against his head. The two of them immediately fall into bickering whispers.
Just a minute later, the entire room quiets. Kagura glances out of the corner of her eye towards the door, and immediately wishes she hadn’t.
He’s pretty. Really pretty.
Silver hair like his mother, and golden eyes that stay glued to the wall as he approaches. The marks on his face are Kagura’s favorite color (not that she will ever let anyone know that). Two swords hang on one side of his black robes, but it does not seem to throw off his sense of balance. His expression offers no indication of his feelings towards either Kagura herself, or this wedding - not even a smile, grimace, or roll of the eyes.
The queen appears on her other side, the picture of maternal joy. “Let’s begin.”
Throughout the entire ceremony, he pointedly refuses to look at her. It sparks a flame of annoyance in her gut - after all, she’s just as much a hostage to this as he might be. When the time comes to offer him the sake, after taking her own drink, Kagura purposely holds the cup too close to her own body. Just so he’s forced to take a half-step forward.
Their hands brush when he takes the cup, and it’s only then that those gold eyes snap to her face. Kagura recovers quickly enough to serve him a glare. Naraku and the queen may have control of her heart and body; but Kagura will not be bullied by anyone. Including a disturbingly handsome husband.
He blinks over the edge of the cup - slowly, as though until this very moment he was in a trance. Kagura rolls her eyes, just to make it extra clear that she has just as little reason to like him as he does her. Then, remembering that they’re currently standing next to the queen, who came up with this entire idea in the first place, her stomach drops.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sesshomaru’s mother does not look incensed at Kagura’s lack of respect for these proceedings; rather, she is positively beaming. The two demons pass the cup back and forth until Kagura’s stomach feels warm with wine. Then it’s a series of bows, to each other and the few guests. Finally, the queen reaches forward to clasp their hands together with a disturbing amount of strength.
“May the ancestors of both families bless this union. And may you bring out the best in one another, for all the days to come.”
There is a loud scoff from the audience, quickly followed by a stage-whispered, “Shut up, Inuyasha, we’re in public!”
The weepy-eyed frog (wait, not a frog, kappa) that met Kagura outside turns out to be Sesshomaru’s personal attendant. He’s called Jaken, and based on all the available evidence she has after three hours of being married to the prince, the only person who actually likes the guy. At the very least, he’s the only one to give her a long list of her new husband’s supposed attributes while leading her to her room.
Just her room. Sesshomaru has no interest in leaving his own quarters, Jaken informs her smugly, and Kagura is certainly not welcome there until the prince himself requests it.
“I won’t come even if he asks me,” she replies, taking quite some pleasure in seeing the kappa’s face go from green to purple. He remains stubbornly silent the rest of the way. It’s hardly a punishment.
Her room is large but sparsely decorated. One folded futon, a wooden chest that looks even older than the one Naraku sent with her, and a bowl and pitcher for washing her face in the morning. Weak light and cold air seep in through the windows that turn most of the wall into scenery. Next to the futon, there are three wrapped packages that she doesn’t bother to open.
Shaking the futon out, Kagura collapses with a heavy sigh. Being married is exhausting, and she hasn’t even been forced to talk to him yet.
One hand rests flat on her chest. Back and forth, Kagura rubs over the space where her heart would be. It’s a habit to do so when she’s alone. There’s always a whisper of pain at that spot, like a strained muscle - but never a pulse. Not while her father still lives.
After who knows how long, she sits up, ready to search for something to eat. Or at least to find someone who can bring her food.
When Kagura hears the queen’s voice coming from behind a sliding screen, she reacts as any proper daughter-in-law does: freezing in place and praying that her passing shadow went unnoticed. As she debates which direction to escape in, the conversation sits heavily in her pointed ears:
“Are you questioning my judgment, then?”
“O-of course not!”
That shrill, squawking voice is definitely Jaken. Kagura sticks out her tongue on impulse.
“Good.” The queen’s tone makes it sound like anything but. “You have been at my son’s side for a long time; surely you understand why I would be concerned with his demeanor.”
“Lord Sesshomaru is the most fearsome warrior of the West -”
“Fearsome, yes. Even his own subjects fear him. Unlike his father, he displays no sense of humility or compassion for anyone. If he intends to rule, then such a personality must be remedied.”
“But a marriage? To that?” Jaken whines. A loud thump follows. “Ah, please forgive me, your Grace, but - she is the exact kind of creature that Lord Sesshomaru despises!”
“She can offer him nothing.” The queen’s tone softens. “That does not make her weak. If he can learn to take responsibility for someone in such dire circumstances, and accept her as an equal - “
Jaken’s sharp intake of breath signals that he thinks the idea either impossible, deeply unfair to Sesshomaru, or both.
“ - then I can watch him take his father’s throne with a clear conscience.”
Anger sears within Kagura’s blood. Turning on her heel, she flees back through the hall. Better to leave before she can do something life-threatening (like break through the wall and strangle her mother-in-law).
Is that her only purpose here? Something to be pitied, responsible for, just so Sesshomaru can learn how to care about others? Why doesn’t the queen just tell him to grow the fuck up?
It’s even more cruel that if the queen’s plan doesn’t work, Kagura will remain in suffering - stuck married to a guy who she can’t even be friends with, her heart still hostage. The worst thing that can happen to Sesshomaru is being passed over for the throne.
Back in her bedroom, Kagura marches to one of the windows and looks out at a dizzying drop. One knee braces the sill thoughtfully. Maybe she should just go with the most desperate option.
The winds might agree not to catch her. Then the queen will have to send what is left of her body back, and her father would finally return her heart if only to keep her alive and still useful…
“No, no, no…” She backs away, patting her face with both hands roughly. So much of her life spent scrambling towards freedom, and now she’s starting to think of wasting it? All the crazy in this place must be getting into her head. There must be something else she can think of, some way to get around this.
A crash rings throughout the acres that stretch around the dog demon’s hall and vibrates through the floor to her bare feet. Kagura turns back to the window, trying to spy what might have caused it.
A hundred yards away she can just make out a figure in black, white, and silver - her new husband. He brings one of his swords down through the trunk of a bark-stripped tree with ease. Over and over, he breaks the wood into smaller pieces with brutal force.
The lack of effort it seems to take makes the hair on the back of Kagura’s neck stand up. Someone like this could scare even her father silly.
Hm.
Kagura watches him silently for another moment longer. Then, she dashes across the room to her wooden chest. Where did she put her fan…
-
Sesshomaru sheathes Bakusaiga. The fallen tree that he dragged back here now appears little more than kindling; unfortunately, the exercise has done little to vent his frustration.
If his mother was going to go to the trouble of arranging a bride for him, she could at least have chosen someone worthy. He has no prejudice against elemental demons, but the woman to whom he is now tied lacks the particular elegance of her kind.
No to mention that her father, according to anyone who has heard of him, is an ineffective and cruel king. Therefore, Sesshomaru is certain that this…whatever she calls herself has no training in how to be a proper queen.
He sighs heavily. There are other trees on the south side of the castle. Perhaps tenderizing a few more will help ease his sour mood.
“Dance of the Dragon!”
From his left side, a sudden, powerful gust tosses the remains of the tree into the air. They crash back to the ground in a shower of splinters that Sesshomaru must back away in order to avoid.
Frowning, he turns to see his new wife standing there with an unfolded war fan in her grasp. As the wind settles, her strange scent floods the air between them. Despite its distinctness, he does not expect they will spend enough time together for him to learn to recognize it.
“Thought I’d join your fun,” she says casually. “Since there wasn’t any to be found at that ceremony earlier.”
Sesshomaru remains silent, unable to come up with a reason that she might have for suddenly seeking him out. Didn’t Jaken make it clear to her that Sesshomaru has no desire for her company?
“I’ll just cut to the chase.” The hand that isn’t holding her fan reaches up to play with the end of one earring. “Your mother’s never going to let you be king.”
Rage bursts in his chest like she has stabbed him. The amount of control it takes to reign himself in is truly astounding; even so, when he speaks, the words are sharp enough to cut. “I don’t see how such a thing concerns you.”
Her laugh is sudden and harsh. “Of course it does. We’re married now, thanks to her. She has some crazy idea that I’ll make you less of a heartless bastard.”
The scoff comes from deep within his throat. Sesshomaru presses the toe of one foot into a small sliver of wood until it snaps. “Pathetic…”
“Exactly what I thought. You are who you are; if I was able to cure someone of being a monster, Naraku would have freed me by now. But there is another way I can help you.”
At his waist, Tenseiga, his father’s useless sword, chimes in that tone that only Sesshomaru has ever been able to hear. He ignores it as usual. “I require no one’s assistance.”
“Not even to make the queen think her little plan is working, so that she’ll finally pass on the crown?”
For only the second time that day, he deigns to meet her eyes. She is a woman of such low circumstances, yet her gaze burns with no little determination. For the first time in a long time, Sesshomaru has met someone who does not fear him.
What kind of situation is she in, that could make it so? But he pushes the question away as quickly as it comes. It makes no difference either way.
“Explain.”
“In exchange for making you look better to the queen, you help me get something important back from Naraku. If this marriage is one of convenience, let’s make it our convenience, and each get something we need out of it.” She holds out one hand, palm raised. “What do you say?”
The task she demands of him seems much simpler than that which she offers to undertake; the queen is not easily fooled. If it was any other obstacle in his way, Sesshomaru would reject her offer.
However…the image of his half-brother flashes in his mind. His mother has never threatened to pass the throne to Inuyasha instead of him, but neither has she ever entirely ruled out such a ridiculous proposition. It is not something he can risk.
“Fine.” Sesshomaru extends his arm; as soon as their hands make contact, he finally recalls her name. Jaken had cursed it several times in the hours leading up to the wedding: Kagura, like the dance. “This will be our arrangement.”
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PUT YOUR LIPS ON MY SKIN ( HAWKS + READER 18+)
A/N: heyyoo! refriedweeb here again with another request from @alexandria-selina and has elements of jealous hawks with his wings (from that tiktok head canon of them puffing out you know what I mean) and this post from @keiqos !
Prompt: “A jealous Hawks where his s/o gets hit on by another pro and she's blushing. She's just being shy but Hawks takes it as she likes it. Instead of getting into a fight with the pro, he shows his s/o why she shouldn't look at anyone else.”
Tags/Warnings: smut, overstimulation, jealousy, mirror fucking, spit, a lil bit of blood, rutting, feral, aftercare, kink, jealous, dirty talk.
Word count: 5,080
Keigo Takami hated hero events. He hated having to wear the Hawks persona day in and day out, especially when it came to being surrounded by his fellow pro heroes. Now, don’t get the guy wrong, he did enjoy what he did for a career despite any behaviors he had to unlearn from the hero commission themselves. He wanted to save people, he wanted to make the world a better and safer place. He just hated all the bullshit politics that came with it. They were heroes, hell. It wasn’t about making best friends and going to fancy events when there was always going to people out there that needed them while they clinked glasses of overpriced champagne.
Though, one thing Keigo didn’t think he minded that much was seeing you dolled up in a dress that led his mind to sinful, dark places. You and Keigo had only recently started dating, after months of him slowly starting to open up to you about the shit that he’d gone through, how he’d really felt about the commission once he’d gotten the sense that he could trust you. It’d been a struggle to call yourselves an item, but now that you could, Keigo felt what he could only assume was peace inside of a darkened and traumatized heart. There was also another emotion that was stirring in him that had nothing to do with peace, and all of those awful things that he wanted to do to your body. None that he would apologize for, of course.
It wasn’t his fault that the commission had decided to host a little event when he was in the peak of his rut season.
And oh, was Keigo in trouble. You’d recently started wearing a new perfume that had driven him up a wall the moment he’d caught the scent on you at the beginning of his mating season. It wasn’t sickly sweet, but sweet enough, and mixed perfectly with your natural pheromones to create a musk that drove his cock to twitch every time you shook some hair over your shoulder, stretched, fucking just breathed. He’d been unable to keep his hands off you for the majority of the weeks that had past, except as of late. You’d told him to keep his filthy paws to himself leading up to the event, not wanting to be bruised or love bit to all hell because Keigo couldn’t control himself. The way that he saw it, the dress you’d picked for the night was to torment him on purpose. Deep red velvet that matched his wings, settling over the curve of your hips, the flow of your waist.
You’d made him promise to be on his best behavior for the night, not wanting any trouble or any media to get wildly stories about what your relationship was really about. But damn, if the moment you were alone with him, he was going to tear that dress to shreds with what little talons he had in place of regular nails. You, on the other hand, your body had been spent. Keigo was insatiable on a good day, but ever since the rut season had started, it’d been exceptionally so. Not that you could complain, your body was sore in a much different, more appreciative way than you felt with sparring.
And yes, you had chosen the red velvet dress on purpose. It was your goal of the night to drive Keigo as out of his mind as possible. You couldn’t read him quite as well yet, your relationship still relatively new, and Keigo working through an entire lifetime of walls to protect his emotional security from the hero commission. His expression was a blank one, but when you locked eyes with him, Keigo gave you the smallest eyebrow raise as he looked you up and down. A silent stamp approval that had heat blossoming up your neck. He wanted to make that perfume you were wearing mixed with his own, he wanted to make sure that anyone who got a whiff of your scent knew who you belonged to. He wasn’t a fan of sharing by any means.
The night carried on, speeches given by the leaders of the commission (which you’d always found yourself by Keigo’s side much to his comfort), Endeavor’s speech, All Night’s retirement speech, and so on and so on. There’s been a light array of snacks while the pros mingled, finding yourself talking to Shinya Kamihara, otherwise known to the world as Edgeshot. It wasn’t very often you got to mingle with the top ten pros, your rank in the high teens, so you found yourself shy. Not quite sure how to handle yourself around such class, experiences, and amazing heroes. You were sure the blush on your cheeks, your neck, was visible from outer space. Shinya was a gentleman, he complimented you on your quirk, your work, and the little bit of history you’d talked to him about on why you had made your choice to become a hero. From your point of view, it was a harmless conversation that was borderline on friendly as you got to know the fellow hero, but from a certain outside perspective it was something a little more.
Keigo wasn’t paying attention to any of the conversation going on around him, his eyes were focused on you. The way you tipped your head back as you laughed, sending another ripple effect of your smell through the air. Was that bastard Edgeshot trying to move in on you? Did he really think he had a chance? He swallowed the jealousy in his throat, though his avian side had a mind of its own on this. His wings, proud and defensive, puffed out. This caused a stir of the other heroes around him, asking if there was something they missed that he’d alerted to. Keigo laughed, the same charismatic Hawks as always, saying they just needed a stretch. He crossed his arms, fidgeting with one of his cuff links. Keigo, jealous? Haha. HAHAHAHA...ha? His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched you pat Edgeshot on the shoulder, leaning in to kiss his cheek before the other hero moved away.
His instinct was to claim you right then and there. To rub his scent all over you and yours on his so that no one else would mistake you as open. But...that’d certainly cause a scene and that was something he promised he wouldn’t do that night. So, Keigo bit back on his instinct, unclenched his jaw, and behaved for the rest of the night. Anything that came after that was entirely out of his control. You’d floated around to him throughout the night, not doing much outside of brushing hands together, a chaste smile shared between you. This was your first real hero event ever since you broke into the teens of your career, and it was one you wanted to soak in. Keigo knew this, and didn’t want to spoil it for you despite his own feelings on the event.
Keigo’s mood, his want, took a turn for the worse when it came to someone actually flirting with you. You, not experienced enough with the personalities of some of these heroes to realize what was happening. It wasn’t Edgeshot this time, no. Now...it was Ryo Inui, better known as Hound Dog. And he was like Keigo in a way that he wanted to mark whatever it was that he wanted. Ryo put his hand on the small of your back, where Keigo’s hand was supposed to go. He laughed when you laughed, leaning in close to you as like there was some desperate secret he needed to share with your ears only. Ryo was flirting with his girlfriend and was being so bold about it. No, nope. That would not do for him. His wings fanned out again, this time catching the attention of several people around him, you and Ryo included. Your mouth dropped open in awe at the sight, though when you caught Keigo’s eyes to see his pupils narrowed into slits, something like a firework set off in your belly.
That fucking mutt dared to spoil that perfume that sent him into a frenzy with his dog-like scent? That wasn’t something that Keigo could stand for in the slightest. That scent was you. It was the scent he had been planning on burying his own in.
The two of you left the event shortly after.
On the ride back to Keigo’s place, the car was silent. Not a word was spoken between the two of you, though it was full of tension in a way where if you breathed, you felt that you could choke on it. He drove fast, shifting gear after gear with aggression that made you wish it was your neck he gripped so hard. As you sat in the passenger seat, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together to feel some of that much desired tension between your legs. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keigo, and he hissed.
Still, the two of you didn’t exchange words until you were behind the privacy of his front door. And even then, you spoke first. “Everything okay, Keigo?”
His pupils were still zeroed in on you, as he stalked towards you, every bit the predator bird that he was. And fuck, if it didn’t make you want to melt into a puddle at his feet. You walked backwards, careful not to trip over the towering heels you were in. His body was hot, flush against yours though he refused to touch you. Keigo wanted to take his time with this, with devouring you. You’d rubbed it in his face how much the rest of the heroes wanted you, being the little flirt that you were. There was no need for him to rush into anything, the way Keigo saw it. “Oh, everything’s fine.” He commented, tone dark. “I could handle that nimrod Edgeshot eyeing you up like some desert, sure. I behaved,” Keigo tipped his head to the side as he shrugged. He’d managed to walk you back into the bedroom you’d been sharing recently.
“What are you talking about? Edgeshot was just being friendly!”
Keigo’s chuckle was cynical, but it turned the silk of your bundle into a pearl with how quickly it excited you. “He wanted to tear this dress of you just as much as I do.” How he was. “But then you had to go and be a little tease, didn’t you?” Keigo was watching you like a hawk would watch a mouse just before it clutched it in its’ talons. “Had to let Ryo rub himself on you like the mutt he is. In the middle of my rutting season.” Your back bumped up against the floor length mirror behind you as Keigo gripped your jaw, the sharp curve of what would have been talons biting into the skin there. “All I can smell on you is him.”
He clucked his tongue. Sharp, narrowed eyes lowered over your skin and back up. You were breathless and Keigo hadn’t even touched you yet. “That just won’t do, now will it, (Y/N)?”
“K-Keigo, I don’t know what you’re-”
A soft cry of pain rose from the back of your throat as his version of talons sank into your skin, enough to draw a little bit of blood. This was Keigo in his rutting form times a million, a possessive version of him you’d never seen before. Part of you was scared, but the larger part of you was excited. He wanted to claim you. He wanted to make you more than just his.
“I asked if that would do, (Y/N)?”
Unable to speak with how tightly Keigo gripped your jaw, you simply shook your head from side to side. No, it wouldn’t do. That crooked smirk brushed over Keigo’s lips, and you wanted to taste him so bad. Taste the anger on his tongue, feel the fury in the rows of his teeth. Keigo was pissed, more than anything, that someone had tried to erase his claim on you. So, the only way to make sure that never happened again was to mold the scent of you with his. “That’s a good little slut.” Keigo released his hand from your jaw, the faint tickle of blood that ran down your jaw sending a shiver down your spine.
Keigo turned surprisingly gentle as he turned you around, as he pressed your hands up against the curve of the mirror that you were facing. “I’m going to make you watch me claim you. Fuck you and fill you until there’s no fucking mistaking who you belong to.” His hands dug into the back of your skin, and you winced. “You keep these hands right here, and if you don’t, there’ll be problems. Do you understand, little bird?”
“Yes, Keigo.”
His devilishly wicked smile returned. And so did the greed in his hands. Keigo took his time groping you, the swell of your breasts full in his hands. The winding curves of your waist and hips. Down the silken road of the dress that he swore he’d destroy. He wasn’t soft, gentle. Keigo was at his brink already, but he wanted to take his time with torturing you for being such a teasing little whore. His hands gripped the sides of your thighs, plunged through the velvet fabric so that lines of red were exposed in the slits he left behind. A soft moan escaped you at the sensation of talons digging through your skin, and he watched your expression in the mirror’s reflection as he did it over your backside. “Do you like that, whore?” he whispered in your ear. “When I leave my mark on you? When all you can feel is me?”
“Yes, fuck,” you breathed in response. He buried his face in the juncture of your neck and collarbone, taking a deep breath in that still smelled like mutt, fueling his need to erase that smell completely. His kisses were wet, sloppy, tongue traced over the length of your collarbone, of your neck. A soft sigh escaped you, your grip on the perimeter of the mirror growing tighter as the need to touch Keigo grew. His teeth sank into the soft spot of your neck, your head falling back on his shoulder as he suckled the skin there, a patch of pink blossoming against the skin there that would eventually bruise. The assault against your neck and your shoulders didn’t stop there, either. He ran his nose along the length of your shoulders, leaving trails of wet, angry patches from where he’d bit and pulled at your skin. There wasn’t a single ounce of Keigo that was kidding when he said he was going to erase every trace of anyone on your body but him. His cock was hard, and it would have been so easy to just bury himself inside the soft warmth of your cunt, and god how he ached to.
But the best things came to those that waited.
While his tongue and mouth worked at your neck and shoulders, his fingers played with your breasts, groping and pulling at the skin there with reckless abandon. Fingers pinched at your nipples, sharpened nails ghosted across the tender flesh there. You shuddered, shifted where you stood as you ground against his hips, feeling the thick length of him there. Keigo had barely even touched you, but you could feel the pool of warmth between your thighs only growing wetter. “Keigo,” you mewled.
“Hmm?” his breath came hot against the ear he had been nibbling on, and your knees knocked together.
“Touch me,” you pleaded.
“Touch you where?” His tone sounded positively bored, pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger that caused you to squeal.
“My pussy,” you caught sight of your own desperate expression in the mirror, all while Keigo looked like a predator playing with his food. And in that moment, you realized this was exactly what it was. Keigo was toying with you before he sent you to the next level of existence. Your legs quivered. “Play with me.”
“Have you been a good little bird?” He asked.
“Yes.”
His hum seemed to be a satisfied answer, because his hands left your breasts, finding a new home at the back of your dress. But rather than go for the zipper, Keigo simply tore the fabric. The sound of it ripping filled the room as it pooled down at your feet seconds later. Leaving you exposed save for the same colored red pair of panties you’d worn that night. The dress had left no room for a matching bra given the dip at your back it’d once had. But that was of no consequence to Keigo. Keigo let out a sharp breath through his teeth as he admired your body and all that came with it. His hands found the curve of your backside, kneading the flesh there with thought. You could feel the tent of him pressing in between your thighs, and you let him slip between your thighs, shifting your thighs back and forth to alleviate some of the tension in his cock for him.
On instinct, more due to the fact that the bird in him wanted to cover you in his scent and his cum, Keigo rolled his hips into you with a snap of a thrust. It pushed you forward, almost sending you colliding with the mirror. “Little bird, that wasn’t very nice of you.” He scolded, letting a finger draw under the band of your panty before lifting it up. A moment later it was slapping against your skin, and you hissed. “I’ll have to punish you. Such behavior tonight...” he drawled, quickly shedding his formal attire until he was dressed down to just his pants. Keigo pressed his chest against your back, rubbing himself against you. His free hand returned to one of your breasts, toying with the nipple there as he murmured in your ear, his voice husky.
Feral.
“So naughty tonight...” Keigo continued as his other hand slipped down the front of your body, underneath the dark red lace that had kept that pretty little cunt concealed from him. He found how wet you already were for him, slick glaze quick to coat his fingers as he ran them up and down between your legs. “Already so ready for me. You really are the little tease, aren’t you?” A moan escaped you as he teased the tip of his finger around the circle of your clit, but not quite touching it. “So filthy...” he went on, breath hot against where he’d drawn out hickies moments before.
You were so eager for him to be inside of you, already so wet for him, Keigo had the perfect punishment for you being so naughty. He brushed his thumb against your clit, and your grip on the mirror slid down as you fought not to grab onto him. He was tantalizingly slow as he circled around your clit, tapping against the swollen bud every so often but not often enough for what you needed in that moment. His chuckle was dry, the hand that had been playing with your breast sneaking up to your neck. Your thighs were slick with your need, your core on fire as he teased you closer and closer to your edge.
Keigo tipped your head back, opening your mouth as he leaned in. As he spat on the tongue you’d pushed out like the slut you were. Every possible hole he could find to fill you with, Keigo was going to. You weren’t going to be able to walk down the fucking street without a single person forgetting who you belonged to. “What do we say, little bird?”
“Thank you,” you rasped as he slid two fingers into you, feeling him stretch your walls as he slowly pumped them in and out of you. He was slow, methodical, holding your jaw in place so that he could look down at that awestruck expression on your face as he finger fucked you. Your belly was on fire, waves of fire rolling as your orgasm wound tighter and tighter around his fingers. Keigo could feel his own cock slick with his precum, knowing he wouldn’t be able to last much longer himself.
“I don’t like it when other people look at you like you’re theirs for the taking,” Keigo muttered when he the tip of his nail along your clit. The featherlight sensation caused your knees to buckle, your hips to buck as you fell back into him. “You’re mine. And I’m going to fill you so fucking good that no one makes that mistake again.” He stretched your walls further with a third finger, and you writhed in your standing position as he continued to work those fingers in and out of you. The coil in your belly was wound tight enough where you thought
“Who do you belong to, little bird?” His fingers picked up pace, the sound of your silken glaze coating him filling the room while you fought to make your brain remember words. Your mouth hung open as he finger-fucked you, head bobbing against his shoulder as he looked down at you expectantly. “Tell your man who this pussy belongs to, and I’ll let you cum.” He could feel how close you were, the sound of your mewls turning to pants.
“You! It belongs to you!” you whimpered, grinding against his hand, your hips rolled forward to press his fingers deeper inside you. “Please, Keigo!”
This satisfied him enough, at least for now. His pace quickened still until your head was hung forward between your shoulders, moaning his name over and over as you watched him finger fuck you. Your orgasm was on the brink, the precipice of pleasure and all you needed was -
“Ah, fuck! Fuck, Ke-AH,” That needed push found you moments later and you were spilling around the spread of his fingers, your orgasm taking over you as your legs spasmed, knees buckling so that Keigo had to support you with a hand around your waist. Your grip on the outer of the mirror so ironclad you thought you’d break it. It rolled through you in waves, Keigo’s fingers sticky as he pulled them from you, suckling your sweetness of his fingers like it was candy. Shit.
“What a good little slut,” he whispered. The sound of his belt loosening, the pants falling, re-sparked that fire you’d just doused by orgasming. You could see his cock, curved and thick with a head already milking his cum. “Gonna fill you so good now, gonna fuck you full of my cum.” You watched, mouth dry as he milked himself with a fist. “Gonna watch me fuck you, baby bird.” You could feel the press of his head between your thighs, and you widened your stance to accommodate him.
Then, without warning, he thrust so hard into you, that you cried out in pain. His thrusts from the get go were borderline violent, painful as you fought against being thrown into the glass of the mirror. A hand fisted into your hair, pulling it sharply enough that you could feel the pain, but with enough leeway that you could still watch as he moved in and out of you, his cock already wet with what was left behind from your first orgasm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, the smell of sweet sex coming shortly after. You were unable to make any intelligible noises aside from mewls and gasps, while Keigo was behind you muttering to himself about how good your pussy felt, how it was made for his cock, how he was going to fill you up so fucking good.
The mountain climb to your orgasm started again, your cunt clenching around him as he thrust in and out of you with feverish need. His hips were sloppy, and you didn’t dare tear your eyes away from where he slipped in and out of you. “Such a sweet fucking cunt,” Hawks groaned, twisting your hair tighter in his fist. “My fucking pussy.” he hissed with a thrust that hit the highest point of your wall and caused you pain. Yet you didn’t dare stop. The look on Keigo’s face, the roll of his bottom lip between his teeth, let you know he was close to his high. The sight of him so focused on fucking you wound your belly tighter, and you missed the hand that slipped down to your clit once more. You cried out, the over-sensitized nub of your clit protesting as his thumb found it once more. The grip you had on the mirror shifted again, a move to get his hand away from where you were most sensitive.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” he growled, and your legs quivered. His eyes were still narrowed into near-invisible slits as you obeyed the order. You shook, spasmed, as he raced your orgasm to line up with his.
“Please, please, ah, hrnngh, Kei-” your hips found the rhythm to match his almost instantly, and tears sparked in your eyes as the bundle of nerves exploded inside of your body, every nerve ending inside you set on fire, exploding as your second orgasm found you just moments before Keigo found his own.
“Fuck, fuck yeah, gonna fill you so fuckin-Urngh,” Keigo groaned, fucking into you with one last violent thrust as he spilled himself in you, shooting ribbons of cum that went scorching through your core. There was a moment as the two of you stood there, Keigo still inside of you, breathing heavily. You on the other hand, were shaking all over, barely able to keep yourself on both legs.
Keigo’s callused finger pad was still resting over your clit, and even the smallest shift sent a wave of pleasured pain coursing through your entire body. You were overstimulated, likely to cum if he persisted again. “Kei...” you whispered. His head was resting over your collarbone, hung low. He reached out and slapped your hand away, pressed it back to the mirror. He wasn’t done with you.
“Told you, little bird. Gotta punish you.”
A whimper rolled through you, “I can’t, I can’t, I-” you let out a whine as he tapped his thumb against you again, slowly rolling a half-hard cock in and out of you as he started at your clit again. Massaging it slowly, cruelly. Your legs bowed out, slack as it was on Keigo alone to keep you supported with your weight against his chest. “Gotta make sure you know,” his hips snapped against yours again, and those tears that had been hidden in your eyes slipped loose. “That no one else is gonna fuck you this good. No one’s gonna make you feel this good.” he said, your body screaming at you for relief, for the prickling of nerves in your skin to cease. “You’re my good little slut.” You could feel whatever remnants of his cum shooting out into you once more, wetness cascading down your thighs.
The perfume you’d been wearing now, Keigo noted, was mixed so heavily with his own pheromones and sex, that there was no mistaking who fucked you at night. Who you were mated to. You were all Keigo’s, and that was what mattered to him. But he still had to finish punishing you for being a little tease, for allowing that musky scent to be tarnished by anyone other than him. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess, flushed against his body as your hips moved on their own accord in time with the fingers he was using between your sopping lips. Your cries were pained, unintelligible pleas to cum and be released. Yet, he took his time. Feeling that sweet cunt clamp down around his fingers once he pulled out of you. A moment’s reprieve before his fingers stretched you all over again. He wound you tighter, and tighter, sending that fire racing through your veins.
“I can’-” you cried out, a threatening wave of pleasure and pain coursing through you. “Please let me cum, please. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” tears were wet against your cheek as he played with you.
“You promise, little bird?”
“Yes! Yes I promise!” you begged.
After all that time of keeping your hands on the perimeter of the mirror, your third and final orgasm had them flying to Keigo’s hair for stable purchase as it overtook you. Your sobs filled the room as your rode out the final orgasm, your chest heaving in shuddering breaths as Keigo worked you through it, held onto your body tightly to keep you from collapsing. Your legs were soaked, your nether region slick from top to bottom. Keigo pulled his fingers from inside you, slick and thick coated with both of your bodily fluids. His eyes met yours through the mirror as those fingers dipped between your lips, pushing them onto the flat of your tongue as you lapped and sucked them clean. Only when he was satisfied you’d gotten every last drop of each other’s cum, did Keigo pull his fingers from your mouth.
“You did so good, little bird.” he cooed in your ear, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your ear as he placed gentle kisses to sweat-soaked hair. Brushed away the tears on your cheeks. “Such a good girl,” he said, a hand smoothing over the places he’d bitten and marked you. Lips gentle as he pressed chaste kisses to the place on his jaw where his talons pricked you. The feral need for Keigo to fuck you into oblivion was satiated for now, his touch now gentle as he caressed and soothed you, the aftershocks of an overstimulated orgasm lessening as time lapsed. He was pleased that your scent now, was so heavily mixed of him and that perfume. No one was going to act as Hound Dog had, especially now. His lips were soft against your temple, his thumbs tender against the curve of your shoulders. It was a scent he was immediately fond of, and a scent he’d do anything to protect, to maintain. Keigo hummed, folding you up into the safety of his arms, surrounded by nothing but contentedness.
#my hero academia#boku no hero#boku no hero x reader#hawks#hawks x reader#hawks x y/n#hawks x you#keigo takami#boku no hero headcanon#hawks mha#keigo takami x y/n#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami x you#hawks smut#smut#bnha hawks#keigo takami bnha#keigo takami mha#mha hawks#keigo takami imagine#hawks imagine#hawks headcanons#kwigo takami headcanon#bnha smut#mha smut#bnha x reader#mha x reader#my hero academia hawks#boku no hero hawks#yagami yato
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The Policeman’s Daughter – Part Two
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader
Warning: Mention of Assault, Murder, Fluff, Mild Smut
Words: 2,345
Birmingham, 12 September 1924
It was Saturday night and seven days have passed since your encounter with Thomas Shelby and you have not heard from him. Perhaps he had changed his mind, you thought. You could understand if he did. He was probably still grieving the death of his wife or perhaps you simply weren’t a match for him.
Over the past seven days, you had learned that Thomas Shelby and his family owned most of the factories and industrial buildings in Small Heath as well as several streets of back-to-back housing.
He must have been a wealthy man with no interest in a common woman like you.
That same night, your father was away for work, investigating two recent murders in Small Heath in a pub called the Garrison and he had left you with two men who were employed by the Crown as security guards.
You felt safe with the men around the house and certainly didn’t expect an intrusion to occur on that night. But you were wrong. You weren’t safe at all. At least so it seemed as, at around 8 o’clock, you heard a knock on one of the windows behind where you were sitting, inside the reading room which was facing the forest.
Your heart began to pound as you turned around and peeked through the curtain only to find that it was Thomas.
Surprised and shocked all at the same time, you quickly opened the window while covering up your skin with a large satin robe.
‘What are you doing here?’ you asked with slight anger.
‘I said I would find you’ Tommy smirked, whispering as he did. ‘Get your coat’ he then instructed, not really giving you a choice to say no.
‘I am not leaving the house with an armed man who I barely know’ you said reluctantly and Tommy raised his eyebrows for a short moment before giving you a smile.
‘Fair enough’ Tommy said, reaching beneath his coat, taking the gun out of his holster and handing it to you.
‘Now you are an armed woman leaving with an unarmed man’ he then smirked and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
You quickly got your coat and boots from the next room, not bothered by the fact that, beneath all this, you would be wearing only a thin nightgown.
Tommy then held the window open and helped you to climb outside while ensuring that you wouldn’t slip on the wet grass.
‘So where are we going?’ you asked quietly, knowing very well that you shouldn’t be going anywhere with this stranger. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, you trusted him. His deep blue eyes appeared honest and comforting in a way and your attraction towards him clearly had gotten the better of you.
‘Just follow me, eh’ Tommy said somewhat reassuringly before taking your hand.
‘My father is a policeman and will get very angry if something was to happen to me’ you said nervously, wanting to ensure your own safety.
‘A copper, eh?’ Tommy said somewhat unbothered, thinking that your father is probably one of Moss’s men and therefore on his payroll.
You simply nodded and then followed Tommy into the woods, nervously and excited all at the same time.
After about fifteen minutes, you reached a small camp near the river and Tommy was quick to introduce you to some of the men, women and children who were there.
‘I thought you might like to be with kin for a change’ Tommy said after he introduced to the Lee family.
‘Your mother used to travel with us when she was young’ a woman named Esmeralda said to you and it was obvious to you that Tommy had told her your name. It was also clear that Tommy had done his research on you before visiting you that night.
You immediately felt comfortable around the Lee Family and spent several hours at the camp, talking, drinking and eating.
Whilst you appreciated Tommy’s gesture, introducing you to the Lees after what you had told him about your life when you met at the orphanage, you also desperately wanted to be alone with him and get to know him better. He seemed to know so much about you while you knew so little about him.
Eventually, Tommy noticed that you were cold, clearly not dressed for the occasion and he finally suggested that you sit down by the fire with him.
‘Go on Tommy Boy’ Johnny Dogs shouted after you as followed Tommy to the fireplace near the river bank.
In response, Tommy swore using gypsy tongue, before telling you to ignore Johnny Dogs. According to Tommy, he hadn’t been accompanied by a woman since his wife Grace had passed away and, therefore, your presence took Johnny Dogs by surprise.
As you finally reached the fireplace and you sat down on of the blankets scattered around it, Tommy took off his coat and placed it over you in order to keep you warm.
‘Thank you’ you said shyly as his blue eyes locked with yours. ‘Now tell me Tommy, how did you know where I live?’ you asked curiously, knowing that you had never told him your address.
‘I simply asked your employer’ Tommy winked and it was when you realised that you just asked him a completely silly question. Of course, he knew your address. The charitable organisation of which he was the founder and chairman had signed your employment contract.
‘You never told me what brought you to Birmingham’ Tommy then went on to say before asking you to hand him the cigarettes from the pocket of his coat.
But, as you reached into the pocket on the right to retrieve his cigarettes, smokes weren’t all you found. In fact, the first thing you inadvertently took out was a small case containing a blue bottle of cocaine and a brown bottle of opium which, without questions, you quickly put back into their place.
‘My father’s work is what brought us here’ you eventually said as you handed Tommy his cigarettes.
‘You said he is a copper, right?’ Tommy observed before lighting himself a cigarette and you nodded before Tommy continued on.
‘What is a copper from London doing in Birmingham? It doesn’t seem like a good career move to me’ Tommy chuckled and you simply told him that he wanted a change of scenery for the both of you and an easier life.
‘Well, I am not sure if he came to the right place then, eh’ Tommy laughed.
‘Why, is there a lot of crime here?’ you then went on to ask and Tommy shook his head.
‘Just the usual brawls you can expect in a town full of working men’ Tommy chuckled before quickly changing the topic.
You then talked for at least an hour about your respective upbringings and gypsy roots and Tommy appeared genuine and kind. It was obvious to you that he felt attracted towards you and, over the hour, you moved closer and closer towards each other, sharing one cigarette after another as you talked for what felt like an eternity.
You sat so close to him that you could smell the scent of his aftershave, a hint of musk and sweetness and it was at this point that Tommy made an admission to you.
‘I have to be honest Y/N. I didn’t just bring you out here to introduce you to the Lee Family’ Tommy said, just as the moment was right.
‘So, what are your alternate motives then Mr Shelby?’ you asked shyly but with a smile.
‘This’ Tommy responded quietly while caressing your face with one of his hands before drawing your face towards his with ease and pressing his lips onto yours.
You gave into the kiss, parting your lips slightly as you did and allowing his tongue to explore your mouth.
His lips were soft and warm and you ran your hands through his hair gently as you deepened the kiss.
Tommy’s hands then moved from your face over your chest and beneath his warm coat, brushing your breasts in the process.
It was at this point you abruptly pulled away and began to breathe heavily. His hands were too close to the scar which carried all your bad memories.
‘Don’t. I am sorry’ you said, your hands shaking as you broke out in tears.
‘Hey, look at me Y/N’ Tommy said calmly, unsure why you reacted the way you did but wanting to calm you down and comfort you.
‘Whatever it is, its alight, eh’ Tommy said, his both cupping your face, making you look at him and nod.
‘I am so sorry. I just…’ you said, looking down at the fire, unable to finish your sentence as tears built up in the corners of your eyes again.
Tommy sat there patiently, telling you to breathe before wiping your tears away with his thumbs.
‘I am ashamed of my body Tommy. I just am not ready for this’ you went on to say and Tommy looked at you, his eyes full of questions.
‘Then we won’t’ Tommy said calmly, his thumb running over your cheek as he smiled at you. ‘Although, you really have no reason to be ashamed. You are beautiful’ Tommy then whispered reassuringly before giving you another quick kiss, intending to leave at this for the night.
‘Yeah, well, you say this now but that might change when you see the hideous scar covering my stomach’ you said rather upset and it was at this point that Tommy stood up, took off his suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.
You weren’t quite sure what he was doing and you were slightly concerned about his actions when he suddenly pulled you up and reached for your hand.
‘Count them’ Tommy said as he guided your hand over his bare chest before telling you to reach behind him and run your hand over his back.
‘Six’ you said, swallowing harshly, realising that he had just a few more scars than you which evidentially all came from bullets and stabbings.
‘Seven actually’ Tommy chuckled as your hand left his chest and you took Tommy’s hand and guided it beneath your nightgown and right over your scar.
Your scar was large, covering the right side of your abdomen. But Tommy didn’t seem bothered and simply kissed you again, as passionately as he could and you would allow him.
‘Who did this to you?’ Tommy then asked as your lips drifted apart and it was at this point that you broke down, confiding him about what had happened to you.
You never confided in anyone before and the truth was, you didn’t know why you told Tommy that night. But you felt that it was the right thing to do.
Shortly thereafter, Tommy walked you back home and, just as you reached the house and sneaked past the security guards which, quite evidentially didn’t do their job, Tommy kissed you again, gently but yet passionately.
‘Can I see you again?’ he then asked and you nodded shyly.
‘I didn’t think you would want to after tonight’ you said somewhat embarrassed about how things had ended.
‘You have no idea, do you?’ Tommy chuckled just as one of the security guards came walking around the house.
Without his coat and gun, Tommy kissed you goodbye in a rush before disappearing into the night, ensuring that he wouldn’t get caught.
‘Everything alright Miss?’ one of the guards asked, curious as to what the noises were which he had heard.
‘Yes, just two rabbits out and about. So cute’ you said as you stuffed Tommy’s coat and gun beneath the blanket on the sofa while looking out of the window.
‘Rabbits?’ the guard asked.
‘Yes, the small animals with the big ears and the fluffy tail’ you said.
Birmingham, 17 September 1924
Following your evening at the river with Tommy, you hadn’t heard from him for days and thought again that, perhaps, he had changed his mind.
But he didn’t and, on the morning of the 17th of September, you received a telegram, delivered to your house along with the daily newspaper your father had ordered.
With a cup of coffee, you sat down in the reading room, opening the telegram.
****
‘Y/N,
I ensured that this telegram would only reach you in your father’s absence.
Meet me tonight, at 8 o’clock. Your father will be busy and security will be taken care of. I will be waiting for you outside the gate of your property’
Tommy’
****
After you read the telegram, you couldn’t help but smile while a feeling of warmth and butterflies rushed through your body.
Nonetheless, you were surprised by his influence. How did he know that your father would be busy and how would he take care of security, you wondered?
But those thoughts soon left your mind when you opened the newspaper and read the headlines.
****
Judge dead in house explosion
Judge Kent has died along with his 24-year-old son in what appeared to have been a house explosion caused by two hand grenades.
Mysteriously, their death occurred just an hour before two killings in a London Nightclub in which another two men had been shot. This also appeared to be a targeted attack.
The two men identified as Jonathan Cohen and Lucas Cohen, friends and acquaintances of the Judge’s Kent’s son who, several years ago, escaped charges for assault.
Whether the murders are linked is yet to be determined and no arrests were made.
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#Tommy Shelby#tommy shelby smut#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#cillian murphy#cillian murphy smut#Cillian Murphy x Reader#cillian murphy imagine#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders imagine
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𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀
𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: tom holland x fem!reader
𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: your boyfriend got home just in time to watch his most recent interview on tv with you.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: swearing, nothing just fluff! :)
𝗔/𝗡: this is my first time writing for tom so i hope you guys like it!! <3
this is based on the spider-man: far from home interview with jimmy kimmel!
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
the young girls heart was silent for the first nineteen years of her life. nothing but a faint heartbeat and some clouded thoughts of little to nothing inconsistencies. from the moment she first opened her eyes as a baby, separating her fingers and spreading her toes while her newly polished eyes tried making sense of her surroundings, to the ripe summer when her mother insisted she become a camp counselor to succumb enough money to buy her very own long-overdue car. the girl felt nothing.
the teens she longed to be alike were a mere hourglass, y/n a shadow. portraying their success and growth without mirroring any of her own, she felt like a weak duckling surrounded by marvelous swans. she would spend her youth watching blondes fall for brunettes on television, plopping popcorn into her mouth while pressing rewind on her favorite romantics, watching the way they would look at eachother and move with one another. she never thought she could be able to experience that. everything inside her was too quiet, too plain.
and then she met tom. it became loud, too loud, and she loved it. everything she thought she could never achieve, she achieved with him. her colorless days no longer existed and she fell deeper and deeper in love with him everyday.
switching the tv from some medical soap opera, y/n sat on her couch. she wore nothing but a plain bra and a pair of baby blue satin shorts. normally, she’d cover up more, especially if she had company over, but tom was a different kind of company and a comfortable one at that.
“THOMAS HURRY UP!” she could hear her boyfriend yell a faint, “i’m coming,” through the noise of the water running. shortly after, the shower stopped as y/n scrolled mindlessly through her phone, impatient.
she expected to see her boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, a trail of steam behind him, but instead she heard the loud roar of a hairdryer.
“for fucks sake-“ her mouth was lacking the salty and buttery flavor she craved so she took the opportunity to use her time by putting some popcorn in the microwave while her boyfriend blowed out his hair.
as she watched the minutes on the timer go down, the machine dinged as she grabbed a bowl and poured the snack inside it. she made her way back to the bench sofa and extended her legs out on the grey island cushions. the lace on the trim of her shorts tickled her feet as she folded her legs. “TOM HURRY THE FUCK UP, ITS ALMOST STARTING!”
the girls mouth was full as she yelled, losing patience with the boy. “IM SORRY, IM COMING!”
minutes later, a shirtless tom holland, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, appeared in their shared living room. the girls eyes grew big, his doing the same as he took in her taboo and exposed form.
“what- tom! you haven’t even gotten dressed yet?!”
“well, neither have you, apparently! plus, this is pretty comfortable, is it not?”
“tom-“ she warned.
“i got it, i got it..” his bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors as he quickly ran into their bedroom and retrieved his clothes. he came back out wearing a black t shirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants.
“KIMMEL IS STARTING!” she pointed at the tv and looked over to see tom bounce down onto the couch next to her, sprawling his legs out like she had done earlier.
“baby, that’s just the intro, i’m not there yet.” she peered over at him.
“who said i’m watching this for you?” he turned his head and made a sarcastic face.
“yeah, sure..” he mocked.
“WAIT, i need my blanket! go, get it, i don’t want to miss this!”
“y/n, it hasn’t even started yet-“
“now tom!”
“but what if i miss it!”
“you were there, you already know what happens-“ you lightly shoved his clothed knee and he sprung to his feet, so fast that tessa jolted up and ran after him.
“tessa! calm down!” the dog didn’t listen and continued following her dad, panting the whole way back.
once they were settled, jimmy announced his upcoming guests before a quick commercial break.
“quick, my ass..” she muttered.
tom stifled a chuckle. “why are you so bent up about this? you’ve seen my interviews before!”
“yeah, but i’ve never been able to actually watch one with you! it’s like… an entirely different experience!”
he didn’t believe her. “are you sure that’s the real reason? or is it because you just want me to give you secret info on the film, because love, you know i can’t do that, not after last time.”
she placed a hand on her chest playfully, “tom! i would never, how could you think of me like that?! as if i would ever do such a thing!”
“mmhmm..”
the commercials came to an end and y/n looked up to see jimmy start announcing the cast.
“shit, oh my god, it’s happening.”
“shhh, calm down!” tom laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder, his other arm sprawled out behind the frame of the sofa.
“how can i keep calm!? my fucking BOYFRIEND is about to be on tv! you know how many people can say that they are dating spider-man? like, no one!” her knee was bouncing and she couldn’t contain the excitement. watching someone on television while sitting in the same room with them was a rush she had never felt before.
she was loud as hell inside.
“please welcome, tom hol-“
“WHOOOOO, YEAH!!” she started clapping dramatically and stood up for a quick second, her eyes glued to the tv as she watched her boyfriend appear, while her actual boyfriend sat there laughing at her excitement.
they did a stupid elevator bit, before him and everyone else walked up to their chairs.
“really, tom?” his dark eyes flickered to hers. “what?! i thought you would like it, it’s funny!” she rolled her eyes and smiled, thinking to herself: my boyfriend is a dork, even on national television.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
“oh my god, you all look so good.”
“i know, right?”
“look at jake!”
“yeah-“
“look at zendaya!”
“i know-“
“OH MY GOD LOOK A-“
“OKAY Y/N, i get it, everyone but me is attractive, thanks. you’ve made it pretty clear.” he frowned as you gushed over how good his coworkers looked.
“yes, tom! i think you look awful, that’s why i’ve been dating you for the past four years, because i think you are ugly.”
he looked at his girlfriend, uncertainty in his eyes.
“oh, come on, i’m joking! you’re beautiful, come here.” she grabbed the side of his head and pulled him over so his head was laying on her chest. she began to play with his hair while watching.
“so the trailer came out, the trailer got like 135 million views within the first hour-“
“yeah it did!” she exclaimed, her fingers busy in his hair.
“see, i didn’t know that then.” he muttered, his brows furrowing together as tessa looked up at him from y/n’s lap.
“well it’s no secret, i’m not very good at instagram.”
y/n bursted out laughing. it wasn’t even that funny, but all of her emotions where heightened in this moment.
“oh god, i know where this is going.. this is the zendaya story isn’t it?” you smirk down at him and he lifts his head to nod at you.
“i knew it..”
“i basically.. forgot to post the trailer.”
“that’s bad.”
“yes jimmy, yes it is.” she couldn’t contain the snickers leaving her mouth and tom protested against it.
“listen, it’s difficult for some people, okay!”
“mmhmm, whatever you say baby.” she remembers distinctly, waking up and asking her boyfriend why he never posted the trailer, which caused him to wind up into a frenzy and immediately contact zendaya for assistance.
“well, you wouldn’t tell me how to!”
“tom, you’re a grown man! you should be able to figure that out yourself, peter parker.” she leaned over and kissed his cheek, his arm wrapped around her.
“so you’re IT for the team?”
“yeah, y/n, making poor zendaya the it for the team-“
“oh, shush, it was funny as fuck. but not as funny as the time you spoi-“
he placed his finger on her lips to quiet her, “oh, stop it!” she giggled in response.
she watched as zendaya recalled the moment she had to screen record how to delete an instagram story for him, which was another thing y/n refused to help him with. sure, she loves him and all, but watching the panic on his face as he realizes that he messed up, always cracked her up. especially since he brags about how ‘tech savvy’ he is for his age.
“it’s not my fault you’re a grampa!”
“yeah, we’ll, you’re dating a grampa!”
“true, i am.”
her hands reached towards her blanket as she put her popcorn bowl down and laid the covering over her and her boyfriend. the grey weighted blanket matching the couch perfectly.
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
“okay, wait…why are you guys still in highschool?!” y/n had paused the program to engage in a very serious and heated discussion about the aftermath of endgame which led up to the beginning of his new movie, far from home, which had yet to come out.
“i mean.. it’s five years! i’m so confused.” tom sighed, placing his hands on his knees, he sat up straight. “like i said in the interview, y/n, i don’t know.”
“well… ask the russo brothers! i mean, jacob is right, that’s a huge plothole!”
toms eyes sparkled as he looked at his lover trying to make sense of the whole thing.
“i… i don’t even know what to say right now. my whole life is a lie!”
“okay, let’s not get too dramatic here-“
“NO, tom! as an avengers fanatic, i need to know!” she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, his body jolting forwards.
“tell me!” she shook him as he laughed and tessa barked.
“i don’t know, baby!” she frowned slightly and looked at her boyfriends amused face.
“i’m dating spider-man, you’d think i’d get the inside scoop.” she rolled her eyes and placed her legs back up on the cushions. tom leaned over and looked her up and down, flickering from her bare chest and her eyes. he leaned into her neck and started planting kisses. “i’m sorry, i will be sure to ask someone at marvel for you.” she smiled sweetly before thanking him.
“has everyone seen avengers: endgame?”
the girl rose to her feet, the blanket stuck to her bare legs. “yes, jimmy, i have! i saw my boyfriend get dusted right before my fucking eyes!”
tom remembered the first time he watched the film with her. it was hard for him to keep it under wraps and while he did end up telling her some spoilers, he kept out the whole ‘death by thanos’ part.
“okay, calm down little one.” he reached his arm out to pull her down, back to the couch.
“tom, baby, i know you like.. could get in trouble for it but-“
“y/n… not this conversation again.” he put his hand up to his forehead, two fingers on the bridge of his nose. she knew that if she prodded and poked in all the right spots, that her boyfriend would give in. that it just took a little push for him to confess all the dirty details of his new blockbuster.
“come on! i am begging, tom- i have so many questions, can you blame me? i mean… mysterio, like.. what’s that guy all about?! he’s a villian right?”
“well…”
“a hero?”
“definitely not.”
“antihero?”
“not exactly-“
“UGH, tom! you are killing me here.” she whined, putting her hands on his chest as the paused tv shined upon his features. “please give me something… anything.” she trailed her fingers down his chest, tauntingly.
“anything?” he smirked at her.
“yup. like… maybe just exactly what jakes character is? i mean, i remember him telling us at dinner that time, but that was barely enough, i mean.. there’s gotta be more right?”
“go on.”
“and mj, i mean.. is peter finally going to ask her out? baby, so many questions, i just have so many.”
“well… i guess i could tell you one thing..” he tempted her. her lips twitched upwards as she pressed her forehead against his.
“mmhmm?”
“i could tell you that… the ending of the movie?”
“yeah..”
“is fucking fantastic. really, it’s brilliant babes.”
“because?”
“you will just have to see-“ he was cut off by his girlfriend hitting him in the face with a pillow.
“FOR FUCKS SAKE TOM-“
“quiet down! you are going to get tessa all going..”
“sorry…”
a moment of silence passed as tom squealed, “for fucks sake tom!” in his best high pitched, y/n impression possible.
“shut up!”
the two laughed before she clicked play.
“you look so good here, tom. it’s so weird like- i’m sitting next to you-“ she pointed at tom, “but, there you are on tv!”
“you are just realizing this?”
“well, it’s like inception!”
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
“i was told, it was a wedding!”
her chest boiled with anger as she quickly hit pause. “NO BECAUSE, fuck you for that! i remember being all excited, thinking tony and pepper were gonna have a beautiful wedding, only to see hes fucking DEAD.”
tom couldn’t hold in his laughs. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know!”
“well it’s pretty obvious, tom! everyone’s sad and in black, baby, you really are an airhead.”
“hey-“ she cut him off with a kiss to his lips.
the two cuddled up while watching the interview, small laughs leaving their bodies.
“like, zendaya! when did you find out how endgame ended?”
“oh, i remember. me, jacob, and zendaya were all in a facetime call freaking the fuck out, while my boyfriend over here, was chilling like nothing was wrong.”
“you guys were in a facetime call?” he questioned.
“yes! i was heartbroken and i had gotten a call from z who was clearly also upset!”
“well, he’s fine clearly! i mean, i wouldn’t be in far from home if peter was dead, right?”
she looked up at him, his heartbeat still lingering on her skin. “so you can tell me that you are still alive, but you can’t tell me about jake gyllenhaals character?”
“well, it’s a given! obviously peter is alive!”
y/n groaned, her head now resting on his chest.
“dating a superhero is difficult.”
“aww, poor darling, i’m sure it is.” he peppered kisses along her forehead.
“hey! you ate all of the popcorn?!” tom was flabbergasted, his voice heightening a few octaves.
“yep, and what about it?” her tone dripping in sass.
“i wanted some, for one!”
“too bad, maybe if you would spill the deets on far from home, you’d get some of my popcorn. hell, tom, if you confess right now, i’ll make you a whole bowl!”
“no.”
“well it was worth a try!”
◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦
“i can’t believe it’s over.” the house was completely silent, the only thing audible being tessa’s light snores.
“i’m gonna miss that guy..”
“baby, i’m right here.” he placed his hand at the small of her back, looking at her lovingly.
“i’m talking about mysterio.”
“oh, yeah, great!” she giggled at his response. “he’s just so hot, tom! way hotter than peter-“
“yeah, maybe if you think manipulation is hot!”
her mouth fell agape at his words.
“what?” he said, oblivious to the screw up he just made. she smiled widely at him as he slowly was hit with realization.
“oh, fucking damn it!”
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Am I Your Forever? - Brock Boeser
A/N: I had lots of free time this weekend now that I’m taking a break from my series. I love Brock and this has been living in my head for a while so I finally decided to write it. I also just wanted to get this out so it’s super unedited, sorry in advance.
Summary: You wanted Brock to be your forever but sometimes he says things that make you think your not his end game. (Ends super fluffy)
Word count: 2410 words
You and Brock had been dating for almost 4 years. He was it for you and you assumed you were it for him, you were perfect for eachother. Your relationship obviously had its challenges but nothing you two couldn’t figure out and over come.
You both were getting ready for Bo and Hollys engagement party and of course Brock was ready way before you.
You were putting your last earring in when Brock came up behind you, slipping his arms around your waste and placing sweet kisses on your exposed shoulder.
“You almost ready” he whispered as his mouth was still attached to you shoulder. He looked up at you through the mirror and your heart melted at the sight.
“Yeah I just need to get dressed then I’ll be ready” he nodded against your shoulder and kept you in his arms, closing his eye for a few seconds.
“Which I can only do if you let go of me” you continued. He chuckled and placed one last kiss to your neck as he let his hands fall slowly down your hips until he wasn’t touching you anymore.
You walked over to your shared closet and slowly slipped your clothes off, leaving you in just your underwear. You took the dress you planned on wearing off it’s hanger and slipped it on. You quickly turned around to call for Brock to help you with the zipper but he was already standing in front of you, leaning on the frame of the closet door.
Brocks cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he was clearly caught watching you changed. Even after almost 4 years of being together he still blushed at innocent moments like that and it made you fall more in love every single time.
“Can you please zip it bubs?” You asked him with a smirk. He didn’t answer, just walked over and motion for you to turn around. He left small kisses on your exposed back as he zipped you up. When he finished zipping the dress he slipped his arms around your waste again.
“Now are we ready? We going to be late if we don’t head over soon.” You and Brock were usually late to most casual events that didn’t have an exact start time. You both got teased about it, everyone thinking you two just couldn’t keep your hands off eachother. But in reality, you too just enjoyed taking your time to get ready and were never in a rush. It’s one of the reasons you two fit so perfectly together, you never put too much pressure on things, you both liked to go with the flow.
The ride over to the party was comfortably silent. You guys were enjoying each others company and the last bit of quiet before you were stuck with hours of loud music and constant talking.
Your stared out the window thinking about you and Brocks future engagement, how fun it will be to be engaged to your best friend and the love of your life. You two didn’t talk about the future too often because, again, you both liked to go with the flow. The few times it did come up though, he seemed excited and like a future with you was something he wanted.
When you arrived to the party, you were pulled from you thoughts by Brocks hand giving yours a squeeze.
“You ready?” He questioned.
“Always” your go to response anytime he asked you that. You entered the party hand in hand and began greeting everyone you knew.
Later on in the evening, you were sitting at your table with other canucks players and their significant others. These people had become family to you in the time that you’ve been with Brock, so the entire night had been filled with laughs and light hearted conversation.
“So are you guys next?” Micaela spoke looking in yours and Brocks direction. Before you had the chance to answer though, Brock spoke.
“No definitely not” he said laughing. Everyone else at the tabled laughed along. You just gave a small smile, pretending to not be hurt by his words. You weren’t one to make a scene and say something in front of other people so you bottled it up and hoped that you would have enough courage to bring it up when you two made it home.
The rest of the night, you were consumed by your own thoughts. Why did he sound so disgusted at the thought of marrying you? Your heart physically ached. Were you stupid to think he was the one?
You tried your best to seem unfazed by his comment but it kept eating away at you.
“You okay babe?” Brock whispered in your ear on the dance floor. You were lucky because he too hated drawing attention to your problems in public.
“Of course, just tired.” You weren’t sure if you voice was convincing enough, but it must have been because Brock dropped it.
“Me too, we can head home soon.” And within the next 30 mins you were saying your goodbye and congratulating Bo and Holly on your way out.
The ride home was quiet, but not the comfortable silence you felt on the way to the party. But you didn’t want to bring up your feelings. You were embarrassed that you were on a completely different page than your boyfriend.
As soon as the car was parked, you hopped out and went inside. You stripped your clothes and threw on your Pjs, too tired to even take a shower. You wiped your makeup off with a wipe and washed your face. As you started to brush your teeth Brock walked into the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around your middle again and kissed your cheek.
“Your sure your okay? You seem off.” He asked looking you directly in your eyes through the mirror in front of you. The eyes contact made you nervous so you looked down at the sink and nodded since you couldn’t respond with your mouth full of toothpaste.
You finished your nightly routine and crawled into bed. Shortly after, Brock turned all the lights off and crawled into bed next to you. He pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head.
“I love you baby girl, goodnight” you could tell Brock was a little worried about you but didn’t want to push things, so he didn’t bring it up again. He knew you would bring it up to him if something was really bothering you or when you were ready.
“Love you too, night” and with that you both went to sleep.
...
You and Brock were having a relaxing day at home with the puppies. It was rare that you got an entire day to spend together doing whatever you wanted so you decided on staying home and just enjoying each others company.
You were cuddled up on the couch talking about anything and everything with the TV playing in the background. You were interrupted by Brocks phone buzzing from under you and you were forced to get up and look for it.
“Hey mom” he answers the FaceTime call when he finally found the phone between the couch cushions. You also say hello and then leave to go grab a snack from the kitchen. When you got back to the couch, you focused on the TV while Brock continued his conversation with his mother.
“So when are you two going to get married.” Laurie asked. You weren’t paying much attention before so you weren’t sure how it even came up, but now you were completely focused on how Brock was going to respond.
“Couldn’t tell you, stop asking.” Again your heart sank into your stomach. This is now the second time he was asked about marrying you and his response was the same both times.
Just like the night of the engagement party a couple weeks earlier, you got lost in your thoughts again, questioning your entire relationship.
They continued talking for a little bit and eventually you and Brock said your goodbyes to Laurie. You stayed quiet for the rest of the day and avoided Brocks touch. You were so upset, but again you were too embarrassed to even bring up how you were feeling.
That night you decided to take a bath. You didn’t take baths often but loved it when you had the time. You always asked Brock if he wanted to join, but tonight you were too upset with him. So when he took the dogs on their walk, you went to the bathroom and shut the door.
You filled the bath with bubbles and a fun LED light to set the mood. You had just recently installed a TV in the bathroom for nights like this, so you turned on your favorite show and got into the tub. It was really calm and relaxing for about 5 mins but your body tensed up when you heard Brocks voice.
“Babeeee?” He called through the house. You could hear his footsteps get closer to the master bedroom “Bubs are you in here?” You didn’t respond. You thought maybe he would give up after looking in the master bedroom, but you were wrong.
He must have noticed the bathroom door was shut and the lights were on because soon after he called for you he knocked lightly on the door.
“Hey baby you in there?” His voice was sweet, laced with a little bit of concern, probably since you weren’t in the spot he had left you before he walked the dogs.
“Yeah babe.” You tried your best not to give away the fact that you were upset. You heard the door handle jiggle followed by the squeaking of the hinges as Brock opened the door to peak his head in.
“You didn’t tell me it was bath time.” He looked at you, a little hurt that you didn’t invite him.
“Sorry” was the only response you could think of.
“What’s wrong babe, your acting weird.” He walked into the bathroom and kneeled beside the tub. All of a sudden you felt extremely exposed and wrapped your arms around your chest to cover the bit that was visible over the bubbled.
Tears started rolling down you face and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Brock quickly stood and undressed himself moving you slightly so he could slip in behind you. He held you, trying to make you feel better, but you didn’t relax into his touch and it was very noticeable.
“D-did I do something?” He questioned. You slowly nodded, turning yourself around in the tub and sitting across from him. His face fell as you nodded and moved away from him.
“Are you breaking up with me?” He whispered clearly afraid of the answer.
“No no of course not I-I would never.” You voice was still a little shaky from the crying. His expression soften from your reassurance.
“What’s wrong baby, you have to tell me.” He grabbed one of your feet as he spoke and started to rub it. You were quick to pull it away because you wanted his full attention on you.
“Do you not want to marry me?” Now you were the one whispering, afraid of what the answer might be.
“What? Of course I want to marry you one day, what kind of question even is that?” You looked at him confused.
“When mic asked when we were gonna get engaged at Holly and Bo’s party you acted disgusted at the thought and today your mom asked you a similar question and again you responded like she was crazy for asking.” He now understood why you were so upset and he felt so guilty “I-I just... it really hurt my feelings, like is the thought of marrying me that bad? And if you don’t want to marry me are we just wasting our -“ Brock cut you off before you could even finish your sentence.
“Please don’t ever think like that, I love you more than anything, I want you to be my wife and I want to start a family with you.” You finally felt at ease with his words “I only responded like that because we are really private about our relationship, and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if I said yes and then everyone starts asking questions. And we really haven’t talked about it ourselves much so I didn’t want to put you on the spot. I wasn’t sure if you were on the same page as me, so I responded the way I did to get everyone off our backs.” He reached out and grabbed your hand and pulled you back between his legs with your back to his chest. “I’m sorry I hurt you and had you second guessing us.” You now understood where he was coming from and why he said the things he said
“It’s okay I understand now, I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner.” He kissed your exposed shoulder and you finally relaxed into his touch.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” He spoke after a few short moments of silence.
“Hmm?” You hummed, unsure what he was alluding to.
“About us, our future?” You smiled and grabbed one of his hands from your waste, bringing it to your mouth to place a kiss on it.
“I would love nothing more.” With that, you two talked about your future and when you wanted to get engaged, how long you wanted to be engaged before you got married, how long after you got married did you want to start having kids, how many kids you guys wanted, and so on. You spent so much time talking, the water turned cold and you were forced to get out of the bath.
You both dried off and finished your nightly routines, meeting eachother in bed. Once you were both laying comfortably in bed, Brock pulled you in for a long, passionate kiss. When you both pulled away to catch your breathe he rested his forehead against yours.
“I love you and want to spend the rest off my life with you, please don’t ever doubt that.” Brock whispered.
“Good cause your stuck with me .” The rest of the night was spent kissing and exchanging I love you’s. You truly couldn’t have picked a better guy to spend the rest of your life with. 
#brock boeser#brock boeser x reader#vancouver canucks imagine#nhl imagine#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#brock boeser fic
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Middle Ground
A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic - approx. 2200 words. This scene occurs well after the events of the romantic epilogue. Fluff.
First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden
Previous: Bonding
“So . . . separate beds?” Mitsuhide’s wry smile was only a little bitter.
“Yes. I know it’s silly. I’d . . . I’d rather be in there with you.” The chatelaine, soon to be Lady Akechi, looked down, her expression a mixture of shame and defiance.
“It’s fine. I will have you all to myself soon enough. What is a night or two apart?”
She looked up without raising her head, trying to gauge his emotions.
Mitsuhide wasn’t having any of that. He took her chin between his finger and thumb and gently lifted until her gaze met his. “It is fine.” Then he leaned forward to brush a kiss across her cheek. With his lips almost close enough to touch her skin, he added. “Are you so eager to be in my arms again? Do you want to . . . test out the guest room? Or your childhood bed?”
He had the intended effect. She shivered and licked her lips. “You are so bad!”
“You are the one protesting our brief separation.” Mitsuhide pressed another kiss to her cheek and leaned back.
She crossed her arms. “You’re right. It’s just a few nights. But when we get back to the city -” a wicked smile turned her lips up at the corners, promising all sorts of fun.
“So forward, my little mouse. So eager. You make me wish we were home already.”
“That’s the idea.” She turned and threw him a saucy look. “Something to dream about.”
Mitsuhide chuckled. “Good night, little one.” Something to dream about indeed. He watched her hips as she walked down the hall, until she turned into her room and shut the door. She really had no idea what impact she had on him. He wondered if it was his practiced art of hiding his true emotion, or simply that she couldn’t see how beautiful she was. How desirable.
He went into the room and shut the door. It was so strange. The electronic hum of household devices. The cold fluorescent light from the street lamps in his window. Distant traffic sounds blending with barking dogs and strains of music. Mitsuhide felt suddenly very alone and very out of place.
Despite his refusal, the thought of spending one night, much less three, without his little one, felt impossible. A burden too heavy for him to bear. He needed to feel her in his arms, to fall asleep to the sound of her breathing, the beat of her heart. Her warmth grounded him in this strange place.
Mitsuhide gave a dry, soundless laugh. Who was the little mouse now?
Slowly, meditatively, he dressed for bed and lay down. He would embrace this world, different as it was from his own. He had to, because it was the one that gave birth to his beloved. And so, listening to the heartbeat of this small town, the viscous thrum of modern life, he drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Miyake and Sasuke arrived the following day at lunch. They met up at a local restaurant. Youko was friends with the owner and able to borrow a few tables in the back for privacy.
Minoru, the chatelaine’s often grumpy father, seemed to be on his best behavior. Not smiling, but distantly polite to the two newcomers. He thawed a little when his daughter threw her arms around each of the men in greeting.
No one said much as they ate. Youko and Minoru sat beside their daughter on one side of the table, glancing up at her strange friends. Sasuke, Mitsuhide and Miyake sat across from them, looking nervous.
It was Sasuke who finally broke the silence. He cleared his throat. “I understand your daughter told you about our time in the Sengoku. Understandably, you want proof. You have questions. We are here to give you what evidence we can.”
Minoru snorted. “What do you get out of this charade?” He gestured to Mitsuhide. “Is he paying you?”
Miyake looked as if he wanted to speak up, but Sasuke beat him to it. “No. I am here because your daughter is my friend.” He reached into his bag. “I know it isn’t much, but I brought my ninja kit as proof. These - these are smoke pellets. And that is a kunai. This is a sleeping poison, and this -” he went through the items, explaining what they were and how he made them. Detailed descriptions of the tools and materials he had available.
When Sasuke finished, Minoru looked thoughtful.
Youko smiled across as Sasuke. “You seem a very resourceful young man. And you are also the one that discovered these wormholes?”
“Yes ma’am.” Sasuke dipped his head, embarrassed by the compliment.
“It could just be you have a - a fascination with this stuff. Read a lot. Saw some movies,” Minoru said. His gruff voice held more than a hint of doubt. Even he didn’t buy his own explanation.
Sasuke nodded. “I could have. But even that would not yield the encyclopedic knowledge I’ve developed. I would go into greater detail, but I imagine you don’t have the underlying historical education to make use of most of the information I could provide. Unless . . . Are you a history buff?” His voice sounded different at the end, as if this question was important. Light glinted off his glasses, hiding his eyes. The air around him was charged, almost crackling with a sudden and unexpected energy.
“No. I can’t say I am,” Minoru replied.
“Hm, too bad.” The strange tension in the ninja disappeared as suddenly as it came.
Mitsuhide nudged Miyake. The warrior muttered something under his breath and then rolled his shoulders. “Alright, old man. I don’t blame you for doubting us. I’d think I was crazy too, or lying. But what Lady Akechi told you is true. She’s been living with my lord for the last few months. And it’s a good thing too. He smiles a lot more now. Eats too, and sleeps almost like a human.”
“Miyake,” Mitsuhide growled. “That’s not the kind of evidence they need to hear.”
“Sorry, but it’s the truth. And if you don’t mind me saying, well, even if you do, your daughter makes for one hell of a princess. She makes the servants happy to do a good job because she notices the little things. And the guards . . . they’d all die for her, and not just because Lord Akechi demands it. She’s kind and good to all of us. I don’t get to spend time at the castle, but I hear how she remembers birthdays and congratulates newlyweds and -”
Youko laughed, a sound Mitsuhide recognized. Much like his own little one, but matured. More elegance with just the same amount of joy. “It sounds like you have a following,” she smiled at her daughter.
The chatelaine blushed. “I really don’t. He’s exaggerating, mom. Really.”
“He is not,” Mitsuhide chided. “Though I don’t think that’s the kind of proof her father -”
Minoru interrupted, his gruff voice quieting the table. “It’s clear you’ve gotten to know her. My little girl.” He gave her a brief smile. “I am still . . . it’s a lot to take in. This wild story. But she stands by it and there is clearly - something true in it.”
His daughter hugged him. “I knew you’d come around, papa.”
He dislodged himself from her unexpected embrace. “I didn’t say I’m buying the whole story. Just,” he waved his hand, “some of it rings true.”
The tension at their table eased, and conversation began to flow more naturally. Youko and Minoru had a lot of questions, and were finally ready to hear the answers.
***
Kyubei followed Ranmaru through the thick forest undergrowth, barely able to make out the dirt path he led them down. This was supposed to lead to a safe house, one that Kennyo agreed to meet him in. He wished the demon-abbot had a taste for teahouses instead of abandoned forest shacks, but it could be worse.
He could be with Hideyoshi, hunting Motonari across the ports. Kyubei wasn’t afraid of pirates, but being on a boat . . . the constant roll of the ocean waves made him sick as a dog. No matter how many trips he made, he never gained any kind of tolerance for the motion. So this, the dirt and the bugs and the thick air under the trees, was a better deal all around.
“This is it.” Ranmaru stopped just before the path opened on a small clearing. There was a half-rotted shack ahead, once a shrine to some local deity, now fallen into disrepair.
Kyubei was surprised to see he wasn't’ the only one here to speak to the monk. Another familiar figure sat on the wooden steps outside the shrine. “Shingen?”
Takeda grinned up at him, pushing a lock of sweaty hair out of his face. “If it isn’t Mitsuhide’s maid!” He laughed. “Kidding, kidding! I just expected to see the kitsune out here himself.”
“He is otherwise engaged.”
“Is he?” Shingen’s smile was dangerous now. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with our missing ninja, would it?”
“If it does, I’ll send him your head,” Yukimura spoke up from somewhere to Kyubei’s left.
Ranmaru put his hands up, laughing as if this were all so silly. “It’s too early for threats. Come on! Let’s make some tea and relax. The abbot will be here shortly.”
Kyubei turned his head a fraction, just enough to see Yukimura lower his spear. “Tea would be good.” He ignored the younger warrior’s scowl as he followed Ranmaru to the shrine.
He didn’t sit, but stood near Takeda, resting his back against a tree.
Shingen, for his part, pretended to be fully relaxed. It wasn’t quite effective though. His brow held a waxy sheen, his eyes looked sunken and fevered. Worse, his breathing was labored. A rasp, harsh as a winter cough.
Kyubei watched him carefully. This was a bad situation. A dying man had fewer qualms than one that had to live with his decisions. He hadn’t realized Takeda was so bad off though, despite the reports he’d received. The Tiger of the Kai was legend. Not a man to be taken down by sickness. And yet.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Yukimura snapped, coming to stand beside his lord.
Shingen chuckled. “So protective, Yuki.” His laugh turned into a thick, unproductive cough. When he finally got control of himself, he directed his attention to Kyubei. “So. Where did your lord and my ninja go off to? And don’t tell me you don’t know. There’s too much tying their disappearance together. I’d rather not have to kill you today for lying to me.”
Another situation he wished he had his lord’s guidance. What information was safe to pass along, and what plans would the ripples of this conversation affect? Kyubei swallowed. “I suspect they have gone to visit the chatelaine’s home. 500 years in the future.”
Shingen nodded as if this was the answer he expected. “Sasuke asked me if I’d like to visit his hometown. He said - he said they could cure me.”
“And then he left without you.” Yukimura punched the shrine wall, causing the whole building to tremble.
Ranmaru poked his head out. “Hey! Careful or you’ll bring the whole thing down on my head!”
“Sorry,” Yukimura growled.
“If it is any consolation, I don’t believe Lord Akechi or Sarutobi left when they did intentionally. The information my lord left indicates the trip was meant to take place later. He was still . . . putting things in place for his extended absence.”
“That’s bull,” Yukimura grumbled, but he relaxed his grip on the spear.
They had no more time to talk it over as Kennyo’s shadow fell across the clearing. He came out of the trees like a spirit, the rings on his staff clinking. “It appears you found me. Again.”
Shingen grinned. “Well, old friend, I did have to hunt through every abandoned shrine in the province to get to this one.”
Kennyo snorted in disbelief.
“Ranmaru brought me,” Kyubei bowed. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“I have little time or patience for guests. Tell me what you want.” Kennyo crossed his arms.
“Your help with the false emperor.” Kyubei didn’t look up from his bow. “We both know Ashikaga is dead. The scribe we set up in his place, or the men around him, have gone astray.”
“I could care less. Let the exiled shogun harass the devil-king. Nobunaga and his pawns can go to hell.” Kennyo’s eyes were dark and full of anger. It radiated from him like heat from a fire.
Shingen shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I hate him too. But it’s not just him getting hit. These idiot daimyos in his retinue are conscripting farmers. Villagers. Innocent folk that should be left out of a power grab.”
The demon abbot’s eyes fell on his old friend. “And you believe this is a worse fate than what the Oda have in store for them?”
“I do.” Shingen’s gaze didn’t waver.
Kennyo’s shoulders shook and it took Kyubei a moment to realize the abbot was laughing. He shook his head. “You always were a fool, Shingen. But fine. I will tell you what I know. I don’t think you can stop what has been set in motion.”
Next: Double Dating
#ikemen sengoku#ikesen mitsuhide#mitsuhide akechi#ikesen kyubei#otome guys#otome#fanfic#fanfiction#fluff#hc
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Promises (Poppy x MC) Part (2/?)
Read Part ONE (summary for fic is there)
ITS BEEN A MINUTE. @iamsimpforpoppy I hope you’re still around to read :P I love this story lol. Hope you guys do too!!!
Word Count (2.8k)
Bea and Poppy’s relationship became official a month after their initial meeting. One would say they moved quickly, too quickly. But every love story is different. This one in particular seemed to have little to none flaws, if you ignored the fact that Bea was promoted to Carter’s right hand woman in the Southside Spades.
They did end up having that conversation after all.
“…Are you sure Carter? I mean this is a huge deal and a special role-“
“If I didn’t think you were capable you wouldn’t be here right now Goldilocks.”
Carter winked and clinked his half empty beer bottle against Bea’s, who surprisingly had a nearly full bottle. He took note of the abnormality.
The blonde instinctively rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Okay but that name has to go. We need codenames……ooooh how about bimbo and himbo.”
“I’m guessing…..no, hoping I’m the himbo?!” Carter comments as he promptly tries to stop the laugh escaping from his lips.
“Mmmmmmm, I’ll get back to you on that.”
They share a laugh and Bea feels Carter’s gaze latch onto her in her peripherals. She could sense the shift of energy in the space between them, it almost felt uncomfortable, and that was something she never felt with Carter. “I never asked you if you were okay with such a role. If you aren't, I understand completely, I just want the best for you.”
The blonde eyes soften at his comment and she looks at him, “never doubted that, where is this going though because you never express your feelings like a normal human being.”
He pulls on the strings of her hoodie until it completely caves around her face, burying her whole.
“Hey asshole!”
“That’s for talking too much.”
Bea yanks her hoodie open and sticks her tongue out in a mock expression. “Oh boohoo. Poppy literally says the same thing, I don’t get it. I talk, it’s a problem. I don’t talk, it’s an even BIGGER problem. Damn a girl can’t ever exist in peace.”
Carter places his bottle flat on the table and studies the blonde’s face.
She kept rambling on about her new girlfriend and the gang leader didn’t know it was possible to feel happy yet anxious at the same time. He was aware of when they entered the talking stage, went on their first date, and finally became official, because Bea told him everything. As much as the experience of being in a real relationship was new to her, Bea looked up to him and somehow she knew Carter would give her the best guidance possible.
It didn’t stop him from worrying. Like an older brother would. He feared the two would mix, and everyone knows that love and crime will eventually combust. He is no stranger to it.
“Bea.”
“Did you know she stole one of my hoodies and actually won’t give it back?? What am I supposed to do, just take it? No she’d murder me.”
“Jackson.”
Her voice slowly dies down after sensing the seriousness in his tone. She takes a sip of her beer to ease the silence that sat in the air, and Carter responds shortly after.
“You know I trust you with my life right? You’re very important to me, kid.”
“I know.”
Guilt was a feeling he chose to lock away in an unbreakable box and bury six feet deep. There couldn’t be guilt in a lifestyle like this. But Bea was his only exception. And she was slowly bringing that box back up to the surface.
“I need you to promise me that you won’t let these two worlds collide.”
“Carter….”
“One of you will get hurt. And I won’t forgive myself if it’s you.”
He leaves Bea at the table, the remnants of his comment still replaying in her head. She pulls out her phone and sees a text from Poppy on her lockscreen.
Other Half 💗❤️🔥- Can’t wait to see you tomorrow 😘
The blonde smiles unconsciously and opens the message to respond.
I’m missing you like crazy. I have a special surprise for you.
Other Half 💗❤️🔥- You know I highly dislike surprises, just tell me.
And ruin the surprise? You must be crazier than I thought.
Other Half 💗❤️🔥- Jackson.
Patience babe…tomorrow it is.
Bea clicks her phone shut and slips it back into her pocket before downing the rest of the beer.
***
“You know your hand on my ass only makes them stare even more Jackson?”
Bea bites her lips and gropes the blonde’s plump backside shamelessly while slowly whispering into her ear.
“That’s the point, princess.”
Poppy shivers almost instantly at the boldness. “Is this the surprise you were talking about?” Bea doesn’t answer, instead trailing her hand up Poppy’s skirt. This was definitely not the time and place for such behavior but she was clearly still learning everything about her girlfriend.
And it definitely felt good to call her that.
“Since when did you get so brazen? You know you’re exactly the type of person my daddy told me to stay away from.”
Bea laughs at that statement and wraps her arm around the blonde’s waist, “yeah? And why’s that?”
“Well I can’t ask him now, he might rough you up and that’s my job.”
Poppy could feel the stares of everyone burning into them, but she could only focus on the blonde cuddled up against her. The shorter girl wouldn’t call herself an attention whore, but she sure loved the PDA that Bea projected without a care. It felt nice to be genuinely admired in public rather than putting on a mask everyday.
But it’s safe to say that Poppy preferred all the handsy stuff to happen in private.
“Do you want to grab dinner with me tonight Pops?”
“Am I picking the place?”
“…Yes.”
“Then yes.”
Bea rolls her eyes at the blonde’s downright shady self but smiles nevertheless.
“Now don’t cancel on me out of the blue. I will not be thrilled about it.”
“Shouldn’t I be telling you this? Your dad always has something going on in his business that somehow has to involve you too.”
Poppy sighs and glances over at Bea, “well you know I’ll have to take over eventually. Especially since I’m legally allowed to handle deals now.”
“I hate that word. Legal. Ugh.”
The shorter girl scoffs and plants her hands on her hips, “yeah I bet you do.”
***
Bea dragged open her closet in search of clothes for dinner tonight but the dinging noise of a text distracts her.
C-Dog🖤- Need you tonight. Something came up, meet us at the garage.
Bea wanted to thank the gods up above that she didn’t promise Poppy that she’d show up for dinner. But that wasn’t going to save her from the fury of the blonde. Good thing it can’t get worse than that, right….?
Only it was. And Poppy will probably beat her up herself, if she wasn’t dead by the next day.
Bea’s mind and heart races as she digs her brain for a proper excuse to tell her girlfriend, but is very unsuccessful. She’s good at drug dealing though.
Going with the good ole truth never really hurt right?
Baby I’m so sorry I won’t be able to make it tonight. Got held up with the gang. I know I’m an asshole, I’ll keep in touch I swear.
Other Half 💗❤️🔥- What else could I expect from my gang banger girlfriend 🙄 please stay safe..
You know I always do.
Other Half 💗❤️🔥- Do I? We need to talk about this tomorrow.
Of course Pops.
Other Half 💗❤️🔥- Call me every chance you get or I swear I’ll track you and trust me you do not want me to do that.
Yeah she definitely doesn’t. Especially since Carter sounded frantic over the phone. The last thing Bea needed was a paranoid girlfriend, so she played it cool like always.
Just simple stuff baby girl, talk soon.
***
“…What do you mean it’s gone?! So where is it? Do you know what this means Carter??”
The gang leader sighs frustratingly, rubbing his eyes in efforts to gain some stability. “The product was here, and now it is not. Which can only mean it was stolen. And when I find out which son of a bitch did it, they’re dead.”
“In the meantime, we are dead”, Bea emphasizes wildly. “This is the Red Raven gang we’re talking about. If they get any inclination that we lost their drugs, they’ll kill and replace us. No mercy. None.”
The blonde paces back and forth trying not to think about buying a plane ticket to Timbuktu.
Carter approaches Bea and plants his hands on her shoulder, “breathe Jackson. You are my partner. The leader of this gang. So get it out of your system and start being rational.”
The blonde lets her shoulders sag as she inhales and exhales in place for a while. The minute she’s grounded she catches Carter’s gaze and her eyes light up. “List. I need a list of whoever went in the room with all of the product. We need to narrow it down.”
***
“Jackson you’re a fucking genius.”
“It’s called having common sense but I’ll take the praise. It’s the only one I’m getting from you anyways.”
Carter resisted the urge to pick a fight with the younger girl, because finding stolen drugs and not getting killed seemed like a much better idea.
Bea figured out that Henry, one of the newly recruited members of SS was a thief, or maybe just a crackhead. Same thing. He was the last to be in that room so all eyes were on him, and guns.
“Heyyy buddy. Henry right?”
The shorter man trembled at the sight of a gun lodged right into his mouth. “Mmmm!”
“Oh I’m sorry, did you want to say something? Here let me just”, Bea clicks the gun which only causes the thief to panic even more. It was almost pitiful.
“Alright lay off the poor sucker.”
Bea pulls the gun out of his mouth and sits down on a stool in front of Henry with a grin. “So…where is the stash darling?”
He points almost immediately to a built in storage locker with a shaky finger.
“Ohhh well that was so easy Henry! Glad you could comply. You should tell your friends to be more like you. But…between me and you, they might already be dead”, Bea whispers that last part slowly, smirking when Henry’s lip quivers violently.
“Please just do it already! Why are you guys waiting?”
Bea raised an eyebrow in surprise and glanced over at Carter who scanned the man’s face intensely. “I guess he wants to die? Talk about kinks I mean come on”
“No.”
Carter reaches his arm out towards Bea but never takes his eyes off Henry. The blonde watches in confusion until she realizes the thief is looking behind her, and so is Carter.
“It’s a setup Bea, duck!”
She dived for the ground quicker than lightning as a bullet flies through the air, leaving a trail of dust behind. Carter ducks for cover as well and starts firing rounds towards the men who snuck up on them. He managed to hit three of them but one grabs Bea by the leg and drags her against the rough concrete.
“Son of a- get your dirty hands off of my Dr. Martens. My girlfriend bought me these!”
A swift kick to the face shut the blonde up real quick but she manages to recoil and send the man sprawling backwards into a row of barrels.
Carter guns him down and Bea finds her footing, pistol in hand and a thirst for revenge. But they never stopped coming.
Her and Carter were left battered and bruised, but alive. Their product was gone again though. But atleast they were alive. Carter told her that it was a theft mission primarily and neither of them were meant to die. But it only made Bea wonder who those people were.
And why were they kept alive?
***
“Beatriz Naomi Jackson what the actual fuck?!”
“Oh not the middle name…”
Bea tries to avoid Poppy’s killer gaze as she surveys the damage that had been done to her girlfriend’s torso, legs, and face.
The strawberry blonde could barely mutter a word. Her mouth opened and closed in brief shock before collapsing next to the injured girl.
Bea could see the tears flowing down her rosy cheeks, which contrasted her porcelain skin. “Poppy…are you crying? I..please don’t..”
“What do you expect me to do Bea? It kills me to see you hurt like this. Who did it? Tell me!” The blonde chokes on her own words as her hands hovers cautiously over Bea’s wounds, afraid to make her feel pain.
“No I can’t tell you. I mean…I didn’t expect this to happen. It was a setup and we were outnumbered-“
“We need to get you to a hospital Bea oh my god.”
The blonde knew that she couldn’t go there. Not with the cops on the scene of the shootout, and actively looking for the people involved. Aka her and Carter. He told her to lay low and heal up, but she didn’t expect Poppy to be sitting on her bed waiting for her when she got home. The initial look on her face made Bea regret ever choosing this life.
She regrets it ever since being with Poppy. But it’s like a drug, once you start it’s hard to stop.
“I’ll call my father, he has the best doctors available and we’re gonna get your the right treatment and-“
Poppy immediately cuts off, her eyebrows scrunching up until she realizes something. “Wait…what do you mean you were outnumbered Bea?”
Bea swallows heavily, praying that this conversation couldn’t escalate further, but that isn’t the case.
“Bea, answer me”
“It..it was just me and Carter. We didn’t think there would be an ambush. We had just gone there to get goods we lost.”
“And where is Carter? Does he know you’re like this right now? Did he leave you, I swear to god Bea if he left you…” Poppy’s voice cracks as her whole body shivers in violent waves.
Bea pulls her girlfriend in for a hug even though it causes every inch of her body to sting harshly. It was the comfort that she needed though. Watching Poppy breakdown over the sight of her was too much, and she began to contemplate everything.
“Pops listen to me, I cannot go to the hospital right now. There are cops looking for us.” The strawberry blonde stares at her until she understands the velocity of Bea’s words.
“Fine. But there will be a doctor that will come to treat you at my house. And you’re coming, I don’t want to hear it.”
Bea knew not to protest that. It was quite obvious this whole incident has left both parties distraught and she didn’t want to try and tell Poppy how to feel.
“Just tell me something. Are you in immediate danger? Is someone trying to harm you right now.”
The blonde chose her words carefully. Because even after coming home beaten to a pulp, she still couldn’t tell the love of her life the full truth.
“No Poppy, they just wanted the drugs. They got what they wanted. I’m not in danger.”
For now.
“I will be okay.”
I hope.
“Don’t lie to me Jackson. I can’t do this if you lie. You promised me you wouldn’t get to the point where you’d have to choose between me and the gang.”
“I know Poppy…I-“
“You promised.”
“And I’m going to keep that promise-“
“Yeah the hell you are. And you’re going to promise me that you won’t ever come home like this again. You’re going to get yourself killed before we even start our life together. Our future.”
Bea sucks in a breath which punctures her chest. She couldn’t tell if the injuries or Poppy’s words had caused that terrible ache. “Our…Wait I..”
“I love you Jackson. I…don’t care if you think it’s too early to say that. I don’t care if I sound too cheesy for a mean girl. I love kissing you and feeling the laughter run through your body when we hug. I love being the reason you smile. I love you. And you don’t have to say it back. I just..I needed you to know-“
“I love you too. Probably maybe from the moment I met you.”
Poppy’s eyes seemed to glisten once again and this time there was no sadness etched into the shape. She smiled a pure smile and wrapped her arms around Bea in a tight hug.
She captures her lips in a searing kiss that leads to a trail of kisses down the strawberry blonde’s neck, dip of her collarbone, and chest. Bea kisses her until her chest gives out from exhaustion and pain.
“Then you have to promise that this won’t happen again.”
“I promise.”
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NOTES: They’re gonna be fineeeee, right guys??? Graduation next chapter woooo.
Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog
#i came up with that middle name on the spot lmaooo#no bug motivation this time just pepsi#poppy min sinclair#queen b#playchoices#mc x poppy
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𝟼𝚝𝚑 𝚆��𝚜𝚑 | 𝟹𝟻𝟶+ 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝
࿐ character: Megumi Fushiguro, Satoru Gojo
࿐ prompt: 14) Injuries 15) Fistfights/Fights
࿐ type: headcanons (hcs)
࿐ requested by: anon for my 350+ event.
⌦ male!reader (he/him)
⌦ sfw, fluffy n caring parts (somewhere), crush hcs
⌦ tw: fights, injuries, mentions of blood
⌦ both prompts are applied to all characters.
⌦ ‘could I request (from the word prompts) 14 and 15 with Gojo and megumi? male reader hcs if its not too much’
A/N: more gojo content? from me? who knew? no one did. BUT- decided to put the reader as a v tough strong boi <3 we need strong y/n’s in this place pls
𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘:
→ as a special grade sorcerer similar to Gojo, he really admired you, obviously of course-
→ only ever hearing about a popular, trusted, and strong special grade. he was interested on meeting you, always asking questions about you to the staff who knew or seen you.
→ this man has no boundaries when it comes to the topic of you, and quickly developed a crush once he laid his eyes on you. finally coming back from abroad of an curse infestation, somewhere- which Gojo didn’t bother remembering, he just... stared at you.
→ fucking looking handsome and tough, and- he can go on. he will.
→ wearing a similar look to the uniform but instead in a more formal, tight fit look. sleeves rolled up to your elbows showing your forearms and the black gloves with [Favorite Color] on the palms. And of course the signature jujutsu high button w/ its swirled crest as a button below your tie.
→ your built was much bigger compared to him, having more broader shoulders and a body composition that could pack a fucking punch.
→ feeling an odd stare, you catch Gojo staring at you. mouth slightly ajar.
→ raising an eyebrow you spoked, “should probably close your mouth Satoru.” your husky voice made his heart stop a beat, face flushing slightly.
→ he often called you for ‘help’ when he was in ‘trouble’ with some curses, only just to see you beat the fuck out of the curses in the end. easily exorcising them.
→ your e/c eyes met Gojo’s gaze as you blew off the dust from your gloved knuckles.
→ he really really REALLY, loved seeing your technique at work. surprised that your technique mainly involved blunt force and sometimes manipulation of most objects you touch, it had advantages.
→ but in reality, he just watched your punch your opponents and secretly wishing it was him sometimes.
→ Gojo questioned where or why your technique was like that at one point though. and you simply explained that your family taught boxing or some sort of fighting sport.
→ you even claimed you did underground fighting to gain some money as a teenager.
→ he practically swooned for you more after that. having some... imaginations in his mind of his.
→ this man tries to hide the obvious facts of his crush with snarky teases and retorts at you whenever someone brought it up. like sir... its.. its very obvious.
→ everytime you get badly hurt or injured, you still fight even if the pain is overwhelming. enduring the striking pain to win the battle.
→ Gojo once stumbled upon you at the infirmary while being treated by Shoko, the wounds you had were rather bad. but you sat there like nothing happened with just slight winces and ows.
→ ever since learning that fact, he always make sure to keep an eye on you when you both are out on a mission together. or... together in general.
𝙵𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚘:
→ Fushiguro knew you as the more reckless and clumsy type, and often compared you to Itadori.
→ being both carefree people who just uses hand-to-hand combat as their weapon. he didn’t think much of you. till...
→ you were one of the ones who came to save him from Todou. sending a punch that made gusts of winds, able to knock off a normal person’s balance. but... but that expression on your face he faintly saw, really stuck with him.
→ it was very tensed, serious, and out-right feral. he has never seen you like this. you looked like a beast that could and would kill on command, holding back for a mysterious reason he wish he knew.
→ as you turned to him, crouching infront of his view, the fierce expression your face had earlier quickly softened into the normal y/n he knew. he only just stared at you as you talked to him, which he didn’t pay attention to. only just staring at your face in admiration.
→ Fushiguro realized why your nickname among the 1st years would be ‘Mad-Dog’ or as literally anything fearful. Monster, a beast, a wolf... it goes on.
→ seeing that side of you, awoken what he didn’t think... he had. a fuzzy feeling in his stomach that made his mind wonder about you 24/7, him spacing out fairly often once you were in view, and the slight stutter in his voice gave little clues of his crush on you.
→ denying it a few times as Itadori and Nobara relentlessly teased him about it. he shortly accepted it as he slowly pieced up the clues and signs he gave.
→ flustering up in his room most of the time now.
→ Fushiguro has caught you working out in your own dorm on accident once. hearing slamming noises somewhere, following it, till it lead to your room. knocking on your door, you opened it to stare back him.
→ “Oh! Hey, Fushiguro.. uh... what brings you here?” you say panting softly.
→ “I heard some noises coming from your room. So I came to check it out..” “What are you doing?”
→ “I’m just working out with my punching bag,” you opened the door a little wider to point at the punching bag in the corner of your room. “it’s a new one since I busted my old one just yesterday.”
→ “..b-busted??”
→ ever since then, he has helped you exercise. holding up gloves as you sent quick jabs. honestly the most intimidating shit he’s done with you. seeing the focused glare made a shiver run up his spine.
→ but often he can’t handle your punches, sometimes tripping onto the floor. which usually ends up with him watching you or lounge in your room.
→ Fushiguro tried not to watch so intently, but he was so mesmerized to see you in action. but the unwelcoming thoughts and details as he watched sweat drip down your face and muscles.
→ you caught him a few times staring while you exercised, resulting in a very flustered Fushiguro as he gazed away quickly with a deepened flush across his cheeks. a chuckle coming from you.
→ at one point you had hit the punching bag so hard it busted (again), you managed to gain few scratches on your knuckles. nonchalantly muttering, “..oh shit, i think i punched to hard-”
→ “what? what happened??” Fushiguro sat up from your bed, before spotting the dripping blood from your hand. “Y/n?! a-are you-?”
→ “Yeah I’m bleedin’ but its not that bad,” you laughed lightly. “mind gettin’ me the first aid on my desk?”
→ and so he did. he was genuinely worried that this wasn’t the first time this happened, but luckily the first time he saw it he convinced you to stop for the day.
→ he’s just worried for ya. if you can be so blunt about a deep wound on your knuckle, he knows for well you are the same for much worse injuries...
#at-dusk;- 🌆#events;- 🎏#folder 📁;- 𝙹𝚞𝚓𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚞 𝙺𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚗#gojo satoru x male reader#fushiguro megumi x male reader#gojo satoru x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x male reader#fushiguro megumi#gojo satoru#gojo headcanons#fushiguro headcanons#jujutsu headcanons#jjk headcanons#x male reader#x reader
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Hopefully I’m not too early but What if Jiang Fengmian went “they only asks for blood heirs” and gave Jiang Cheng up to the Wen Indoctrination Camp because he cannot bear Wei Wuxian going and possibly getting hurt. JC is very hurt by the blatant favouritism of his father but still went as his duty dictates. He somehow become close friends with Huaisang, MianMian, and Jin Zixuan. Please give me Jiang Cheng Protection Squad. MingCheng sort of happens? Thank you so much!
“…wow,” Nie Huaisang said when Jiang Cheng finished explaining. “That’s – that’s bullshit.”
Jiang Cheng flushed. Secretly, in his heart, he agreed a little bit with Nie Huaisang’s assessment, but at the same time he couldn’t just sit around while someone said things about his father…
“Before you say that I can’t say something like that, I’m not being cruel or dismissive, I’m describing the situation accurately using crude words,” Nie Huaisang said, holding up his hands. “It’s not the same.”
That…sounded wrong.
“Back me up here,” Nie Huaisang said to the others in their group. They’d been put into a single group by the Wen sect, all of them but Mianmian who’d snuck over by climbing a tree, and given a too-small, too-crowded tent to sleep in and a single fire pit to warm themselves. How that had let them to sitting by the fire and sharing stories of how they’d been sent here, Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure. “Sect Leader Jiang deciding that because the Wen sect only asked for blood heirs that he wouldn’t sent Wei-xiong here alongside Jiang-xiong because he might get hurt is a situation can be, and indeed must be, accurately described as being total bullshit, right?”
“…it kind of is,” Jin Zixuan said. “Sorry, Jiang Wanyin.”
“It definitely is,” Mianmian said, emboldened by her sect leader’s agreement. “Absolutely bullshit.”
Even Lan Wangji hummed. It was a pretty neutral sound, but it might be an affirmative hum.
Well, if everyone agreed…
Jiang Cheng’s shoulders went down a fraction from where they’d been hovering around his ears.
“I wasn’t just taking it too personally?” he asked, seeking confirmation. “I mean, Father’s right – it doesn’t make sense to give the Wen sect two hostages when they’ve only asked for one, and there’s always the risk that Wei Wuxian would get hurt –”
“Your father should be concerned about whether you get hurt!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, slapping the ground. “They don’t feed us, they make us work in the fields, and who knows what else…! When my brother heard about their request, he nearly killed the Wen sect’s messenger, he was so angry!”
“My mother was angry, too,” Jiang Cheng offered. “She and my father got into a big fight –”
Nie Huaisang jabbed a finger at him, rather rudely. “From the story you told, your mother only got really angry when she heard Wei Wuxian was staying behind.”
“…so?”
“There’s a difference between being upset over your son’s well-being and being upset that – that – that, I don’t know! That your favorite dog is losing the race!”
“My mother threw a vase at my father’s head when she heard that he’d agreed to send me here,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. He was actually a lot more tolerable without his retainers puffing him up and egging him on all the time, and having to work side-by-side in the fields had revealed that under the flash and arrogance there was an introverted boy who disliked dealing with people nearly as much as Jiang Cheng did. “Then she spent the next two days trying to find a way out of it, then hovered for the rest of the week before I left.”
“My father punched a wall,” Mianmian recalled. “Mother had to sit on him before he tried something crazy, like petitioning to remove me from the sect or something. Not that’d I’d ever have let Jin-gongzi come here alone, of course.”
“See?” Nie Huaiwang said, gesturing at them all. Lan Wangji hadn’t volunteered, but obviously no one would ask him, either; they’d all heard about the burning of the Cloud Recesses. No one had agreed to send him here. “Violence in response to an unreasonable request! Violence! Anything less is unacceptable!”
“You know, for the very first time, I think see your resemblance to the rest of the Nie sect?” Mianmian said, chin on her hand.
“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said. “No, not about the resemblance, about – the other part. It’s not anywhere near as bad as you’re all making it out to be; Wei Wuxian’s always been my father’s favorite, and Mother’s always been angry about it. It’s not a big deal.”
“They should not compare you,” Lan Wangji said. He didn’t talk much, so everyone always listened when he did. “It is inappropriate.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do with that. He’d never not been compared to Wei Wuxian, not since he’d arrived at the Lotus Pier all those years ago…and maybe even before.
“Even Lan-er-gongzi agrees,” Nie Huaisang said, pulling his knees up and putting his chin on them with a pout. “It’s all bullshit, I’m telling you. I’m taking you back with me to the Nie sect when all this is over. If your parents want you back, they can come ask nicely.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jiang Cheng told him.
“You could come to Lanling if you prefer,” Jin Zixuan said, and Jiang Cheng turned to stare at him. “What? Your mother and mine are friends. It’d be fine. I wouldn’t – it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“I’m the heir of the Jiang sect,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “I can’t not go back!”
“Don’t think of it as not going back,” Mianmian said. “Think of it as taking a long detour.”
“You’d like Qinghe,” Nie Huaisang put in. “My brother’s really cool. He gives great hugs.”
“I bet he does,” Mianmian muttered appreciatively.
“Gross, Mianmian.”
“He’s seventh on the list of most attractive male cultivators, and in my personal opinion should be a good few places higher up. Get used to it.”
“I don’t do hugs anyway,” Jiang Cheng interjected before he somehow got sold up the river – he knew how this sort of thing went. “Father doesn’t like them.”
“…your father hugged Wei Ying when he arrived at the Cloud Recesses to collect him,” Lan Wangji said neutrally.
“Fine. He doesn’t like them with me. Never did, not really, the whole time I was growing up…well, I mean, I guess he did sometimes when I was really young, before Wei Wuxian came...”
“Are you seriously saying your father hugs Wei Wuxian and not you?” Jin Zixuan asked. “And that he - he stopped hugging you when Wei Wuxian was there? Because that’s – that’s…”
“Bullshit?” Nie Huaisang suggested.
“Bullshit,” Jin Zixuan agreed with surprising vehemence.
“You’re exaggerating,” Jiang Cheng said.
“No,” Lan Wangji said.
“No, what? No they’re not exaggerating, no they’re not –”
“No. It is bullshit.”
“…did we just get a Lan to curse?” Mianmian asked, eyes wide. “I didn’t even know Lans were allowed to do that. Ever.”
“It is not a curse,” Lan Wangji said with dignity. “It is an accurate description of the situation.”
“Vindication,” Nie Huaisang hissed. How Jiang Cheng had missed that he was such a vicious little snake during their time at the Cloud Recesses, he had no idea, and judging by the amused expressions on everyone else’s faces, they felt much the same. “See, Jiang Cheng, this is why you –”
“Time to sleep,” Lan Wangji interrupted. His internal sense of time was more reliable than any clock when it came to sleeping and waking, and no one complained – if they stayed out much later than nine the Wen sect guards would come to accuse them of making trouble, and no one wanted to be labelled a trouble-maker.
Mianmian disappeared back over to the women’s camp – boring in comparison, according to her, but more likely she just wanted to keep her word about watching over Jin Zixuan – and the rest of them shuffled back to bed.
Some time later that night, when Jiang Cheng was lying in the middle of a pile of arms and legs he could no longer differentiate, he stared at the ceiling and asked quietly, “…is it really that bad?”
An arm looped around his waist tightened, and a foot lightly nudged him from the other direction.
“It’s not that it’s bad,” someone said, and their voice was so faint that he couldn’t tell which of the boys it was. “It’s that you deserve better.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to say to that.
He continued not to know what to say the next day, but that was the day that they got forced to act as bait on a night-hunt into a giant lightless cave and Mianmian nearly got herself killed, followed very shortly by Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji for standing up for her.
Under normal circumstances, Jiang Cheng would think first about his sect and only later about everyone else, and he tried, really, but – well, the Wens were attacking anyway, and somehow it’s Nie Huaisang of all people who hisses, “Get Wen Chao!” and Jiang Cheng had, and for a moment there it looked like they were going to be okay.
And then they all got stuck in a cave with a corrupted Xuanwu.
Minus the Wens, which was at least something.
“There are fresh maple leaves on the water,” Lan Wangji said. “There must be a way in and out.”
“I can dive in and check it out if someone distracts the Xuanwu,” Jiang Cheng offered. When they stared at him, he shrugged. “I’m a good swimmer.”
“You’d better be an amazing swimmer,” Jin Zixuan said. “I don’t want to have to plan your funeral.”
“I don’t think we get funerals here,” Nie Huaisang put in. “So if you die, you’ll stink up the whole place and we’ll all be very upset. I mean, gross!”
Jiang Cheng had by this point gotten used to Nie Huaisang’s – Nie Huaisang-ness, but it couldn’t be denied that everyone was a lot less terrified after listening to Nie Huaisang complain about nonsense for a bit. So much so, in fact, that it abruptly occurred to Jiang Cheng that maybe Nie Huaisang was doing it on purpose which…he wasn’t sure what to do with, so he decided to just put out of his mind.
Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan put their heads together and eventually decided on each of them using a fire talisman as a distraction, alternating between them, while Jiang Cheng crept to the water and found a way out, which he reported back.
“Someone will need to stay behind as a distraction,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. His hands were clasped together, and Jiang Cheng knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“No way,” he said. “You’re not staying behind. If anything, I should; I’m the best swimmer, I might be able to get around it even if it’s not distracted.”
“You know where the exit is; it is better if you lead those going out.”
“A description will do the trick just as well,” Jiang Cheng argued. “And anyway, it’s not – it’s not as if I’ll be missed at home, the way all of you would be.”
They all glared at him, then, and he shrugged angrily.
“It’s true,” he said, and he could say it only because Wei Wuxian wasn’t there to stop him. He wouldn’t even think it, if Wei Wuxian was there; Wei Wuxian always knew when it was coming and interrupted him with a smile or a joke or something, and so the bitterness never got a chance to be let out. But he wasn’t here now, they were, and everyone else seemed to think it was all bullshit and maybe it was, okay, maybe it was. But it didn’t make it any less true. “My father has always said that Wei Wuxian understood the sect motto better than I did. He wouldn’t be upset at all if the sect went to him instead, and if I was dead or injured he’d probably just give him the Jiang surname in my honor or something. Let me be the one to stay.”
“Uh, question,” Nie Huaisang said. “Why does anyone have to stay? Can’t we just set up a trap or something?”
“A trap?” Jin Zixuan said. “What do you mean?”
Nie Huaisang shrugged and looked at Lan Wangji. “Do you know Chord Assassination?”
Lan Wangji blinked, surprised, but nodded.
“Okay, so, here’s the idea…”
It was an extremely stupid idea, based on using the chords as part of a pulley, some Wen sect soldiers and swords used as counterbalance weights, but as a distraction it worked pretty beautifully right up until the last moment when Jiang Cheng was helping Lan Wangji – whose leg was broken – swim through the water and the Xuanwu abruptly noticed that they were all going to leave and dashed after them, getting its head stuck in the exit hole they were using.
“Should we behead it or something?” Jin Zixuan asked, staring at the thrashing beast. “It can’t be allowed to hurt others.”
“Using what?” Mianmian asked, holding up a Wen sword in disdain. “These pieces of – well. These swords? It wouldn’t work.”
“I can still do Chord Assassination,” Lan Wangji said, and with all of them heaving together they were able to hold the string down tight enough to eventually cut the thing’s head off at the neck.
Nie Huaisang even used the opportunity to go pick out some sort of sword that was sticking out of the creature’s side, which he’d declared to be extremely ‘aesthetic’ if you looked at it from a certain perspective.
By that point, they were all exhausted, but no one wanted to stay a second longer in Qishan than they had to – especially since one of the small sect cultivators who’d wandered further away had seen Wens incoming – so Jiang Cheng put Lan Wangji, now totally exhausted, on his back and they all ran away.
“Come visit me in Qinghe sometime!” Nie Huaisang shouted, waving as the Nie sect disciples split off in a different direction. “I promised you some high-quality proper affection hugs from my da-ge, Jiang Cheng! Just you wait, you’ll see how good they are!”
(They are every bit as good as promised.)
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Seals of the Lost - Chapter I
Summary: You and Henry cross paths, and the truth behind the disc Henry has is revealed.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader
Word Count: 8,080
Warning: PG - RPF, Language, Magic, Stalking, Deception, Death, Light Bullying
Inspiration: This comes from several sources. XD
Author's Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for her wonderous Beta skills and helping me world build and world out my idea for this story!
Tag List Blog: @viking-raider-taglist
After nearly a week of searching for information on the disc that came in the box his mother sent him, Henry finally found someone in central London, with a doctorate's degree in archaeology, that could potentially shed some light on what it was, and drove out to meet them.
“Mr. Cavill?” The archaeologist asked, coming out of his office.
“Yes.” Henry replied, politely extending his hand.
“I'm Dr. Rick O'Connell II.” He introduced himself, shaking Henry's hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Henry nodded, smiling softly.
“Your message said, you had a strange little artifact in your possession and would like to learn anything you could about it.” Dr. O'Connell said, showing Henry into his spacious and bright office.
“Yes, sir. I do.”
Henry confirmed, his eyes going to the glass cases, picture frames and artifacts hanging around Dr. O'Connell's office. The small spark inside of Henry that had once wanted to be an Egyptologist and Historian, before becoming an actor, flared to life as he approached one of the tall glass display cases, filled with artifacts from Egypt and a few that looked to be from Asia; one of which was a pale stone and gold jar with the head of Anubis.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Dr. O'Connell smiled, seeing Henry had been drawn to it, many people often were. “My grandparents were on the expedition that uncovered them.” He commented, stopping beside Henry.
“Seriously?” Henry replied, shaking his head and blinked at Dr. O'Connell with surprise.
“Yes.” Dr. O'Connell nodded, proudly. “My father, Alex, named me after my grandfather. My grandparents met shortly before the expedition and fell in love during it, married, and had him. They made a life of it and these are some of the artifacts from their expeditions together.”
“The others are from yours?” Henry asked, moving to another case.
“Yes, they are.”
Henry stared at the other objects for a moment longer, before turning towards him. “I'm sorry, I came here to talk to you about my object and I'm busy gawking at yours, like a schoolboy on a field trip.” He chuckled and blushed, quite abashed.
“It's quite all right.” Dr. O'Connell laughed, motioning towards a chair in front of his desk, before taking his own behind it. “So, let's take a look at what you have, Mr. Cavill.” He said, holding his hand out over his desk.
“Yes, right.” Henry nodded, taking the disc out of the protective pouch he had put it in and handed it over to him.
Dr. O'Connell frowned at the disc, turning it over in his hands as he observed it. “Well, I can tell you it's made of granite.” He said, pulling open a drawer in his desk to remove a small tape measure, then set the disc on his desk and took measurements of it. “Thirteen centimeters by thirteen centimeters.” He stood up next and crossed the room and gently laid the disc on a padded scale.
“And just under a kilogram in weight.” He returned to his desk and sat down, pulling out a magnifying glass next. “This symbol is quite strange.” He commented, holding the magnifying glass up to it.
“I was thinking the same thing.” Henry agreed with him, biting his lip as he watched him examine the disc. “It looks like some strange lizard.” He commented on it.
“Yes, a lizard.” Dr. O'Connell agreed, looking up from the magnifying glass and disc, in thought. “A dragon.” He nodded, looking back down at it. “A dragon's head, breathing out fire.”
“Does that mean something?” Henry asked, licking his lips and feeling his heart start to pound.
Dr. O'Connell set the disc and magnifying glass down. “There's this ghost story you hear, if you're in my line of work long enough, especially if you're out in the field digging around. My dad told it to me once, when I was a lad.” He started to explain to Henry, leaning back in his chair and staring out the large wall of windows to their left, with the muffle of traffic coming through from below.
“There used to be this group of people, an ancient civilization, that believed, heavily, in Dragons. It was said they were real-”
“The people or the Dragons?” Henry asked, lifting a brow at him.
“Both.” Dr. O'Connell chuckled at him. “As I was saying, they were real, and these people and Dragons lived together, as one. They supposedly did everything together and held highly sacred bonds to one another, giving the people powers, the ability to do magic, long life and many other things.”
“But, their main task, they kept the world at peace.”
“So, what happened to them?” Henry asked, shaking his head, not completely believing him, but enthralled by the story nonetheless.
“No one knows.” Dr. O'Connell shrugged. “There are theories. But, very few things have ever been found about them. I could fill a shoe box with what's been found on them. Most of what we know has been a story from an odd book or scroll, mythology or lore from some culture all across the world, pieced together. A few dusty unexplained bones that some scholar, archaeologist or theorist thinks belong with them.”
“Do you think this has to do with them?” Henry frowned, his brow pinched in conflict.
Dr. O'Connell rubbed his face, twisting back and forth in his chair, and stared at the disc. “I'm not sure.” He replied, honestly. “But, something in my gut tells me otherwise.” He admitted, letting out a huff of air.
“Is it all right if I take some photos of it, Mr. Cavill?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.
“Of course, anything to help you identify what it is.” Henry nodded, eagerly.
Dr. O'Connell removed his mobile from his pocket and snapped several photos of the disc. “I'll contact some of my colleagues and send them the photos, see what they have to say about the artifact and what we can find out about it.” He said, picking it up and holding it out to Henry. “Once, and if,” He laughed, smiling. “we come to a conclusion on what it is, or isn't, I'll give you a ring and tell you.”
“I would really appreciate it.” Henry replied, taking the disc and tucking it back into its little pouch, before standing up and extending his hand out to Dr. O'Connell again. “Thank you.” He smiled, squeezing his hand.
“Have a good day, Mr. Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell smiled back.
“You as well.” Henry replied, before parting ways with him.
Dr. O'Connell moved over to his windows and watched the street below, chewing on his bottom lip until he saw Henry appear in the crowded sidewalk and turn down the street towards the parking garage he had parked his car in, then turned back towards his desk, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair.
“Molly, I'm going out.” He called out to his secretary, rushing down the hall towards the elevators.
Riding the lift down to the main floor, O'Connell rushed onto the street and the opposite way Henry had gone, frantically dialing a number on his mobile, before pressing it to his ear. “It's Rick O'Connell.” He said, when the line picked up. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked Dragonic.”
“Have you?” A raspy, deep voice replied on the other end of the line.
Dr. O'Connell pulled his mobile away from his ear and sent the connected number the photos he took of Henry's disc, then put the phone back to his ear. “I'm pretty sure.” He replied, out of breath.
“Do you have it with you?”
“No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He explained, getting a sick feeling in his stomach, stopped in his tracks and turned around, but didn't see anything behind him, but Londoners going about their daily business. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?”
“That's not necessary, Dr. O'Connell.” The voice replied, their tone never changing. “Just give me their name and I'll take care of the rest.”
“His name is Henry Cavill.” Dr. O'Connell informed the voice, before the line went dead.
The air in the small meadow was cool and shaded by the clustered ring of trees that surrounded it, as a soft breeze stirred the short stemmed wild flowers in the tall grass, before a shimmering blue light glowed softly in the center of it, and a moment later, with a small rush, you stepped through and the glow dissipated.
You sighed, rubbing the glowing mark on your forearm, before pulling your sleeve down to cover it. A bark filled the air, before a massive black and white dog came tearing into the meadow through the trees and right up to you, his long pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
“Hey, there.” You smiled at him, as he barked several times and ran several circles around you. “You're a playful, little guy.” You chuckled at him, bending over to pet him as he came up to you, but turned sharply and ran off again. “Oh, you faked me out.” You roared, thoroughly amused by the dog's antics.
“Kal!” A deep voice shouted through the trees in the direction the dog had come from.
“Is that your name?” You asked, turning to see the dog busy going number two. “Kal.”
“Oh, hello.”
You looked away from Kal and faced the owner of the voice. “Hi, I'm guessing this is your dog.” You said to him, motioning behind you.
“Yeah. Kal, are you bothering this nice lady.” He asked the pup, a feeling of shy apprehension in his chest as you looked him over, waiting for your brain to click and realize who he was and start freaking out, asking for a photo and autograph from him.
“Oh, not at all.” You replied, chuckling as Kal ran up to you again, actually letting you pat him on the head this time, before dashing over to his owner.
“I'm Henry, by the way.” He introduced himself, with a sweet smile, realizing you either didn't recognize who he was or you were being polite enough not to freak out on him.
“Pleasure to meet you, Henry.” You replied, offering him your own name.
“I don't think I've seen you around before.” Henry commented, tilting his head at you. “Then again, I have just moved in a couple of months ago.” He blushed, biting the corner of his lip.
You chuckled at him, brushing your fingers through your hair. “I live just across the way.” You said, pointing in the opposite direction of the trees. “Welcome to the neighborhood.” You greeted him.
“Thanks.” Henry smiled at you, leaning down to rub Kal's ears. “What are you doing out here?” He asked, motioning around the meadow.
“Oh.” You blinked around the meadow, grasping for a reason. “I went to the little park that's nearby and dropped my house keys.” You grinned, giving off the vibe that you felt like a complete idiot for your mistake. “I've come looking for them, when I ran into your adorable pooch.” You said, looking at Kal.
“Do you need any help looking for them?” Henry offered, politely.
“I would hate to put you out.” You said, shaking your head at him, gulping.
“It's no issue at all.” He replied, shaking his head back at you. “It's not like I'm not going back that way.” He chuckled, tilting his body in that direction.
“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath, then flexed your fingers at your side, like a wave, and the mark on your forearm warmed. “I suppose an extra pair of eyes would make the task go faster.” You giggled, biting your lip and berating yourself for not being more careful.
“Never hurts.” Henry grinned at you, laughing as Kal jumped up on him, putting Henry's forearm gently in his mouth and tried to pull him down. “Come on now, Bear. Let's help find her keys.” He said to him, wrangling his arm out of Kal's mouth and corralled him through the trees, where there was a small dirt path that edged around the ring of trees and his property.
“So, where did you move here from?” You asked, eyes glued to the ground in your key search.
“London.” Henry replied, his own eyes searching the tall grass at the edges of the path. “So much of my life is busy, fast paced and noisy, I just wanted a nice and quiet place, where I could go, that was relatively secluded, so I could relax and decompress.”
“I can understand that.” You nodded, licking your lips and glancing over at him. “There's something about having your own little world. A place to yourself, so you can be yourself, without the worry of others judging you and disrupting your peace.”
Henry paused and looked over at you, dumbfounded that you had nailed precisely how he felt about why he moved out of London and into the English countryside. “Exactly.” He replied softly, blinking and licking his lips, his heart pounding.
“Ah-ha!” You exclaimed, seeing the glint of sunlight on the silver ring key ring and hooked your finger through it. “Found them.” You grinned at Henry, holding them up for him to see. “Thanks for helping me.”
“No problem.” He smiled back at you, even though it didn't quite meet his blue eyes. “Um,” He bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder. “Would you like a cup of coffee or maybe some tea?” He asked, looking back at you, with a brow lifted in hope.
“I just live right there.” He said, pointing a thumb to the two story house behind him.
You looked between Henry to his house, then glanced down as Kal barked and bumped into your legs, like he was begging you to take his owner's invitation. Letting out a soft chuckle, you reached down and scratched Kal's back, making his back leg go wild.
“Sure, a cup of tea sounds nice.” You replied, looking up at Henry, kindly.
“Cool.” Henry grinned, relieved and excited.
The pair of you crossed his backyard and stepped onto his patio, before Henry politely excused himself and rushed through the sliding glass door into his house, leaving Kal to entertain you for several minutes, while he threw together a cup of coffee for himself and a mug of tea for you. He brought them out, setting down a little thing of sugar and creamer, unsure how you took your tea, before the two of you sat down at the little patio table he had set up out there.
“So, how long have you lived in the neighborhood?” He asked, sipping his coffee and lifted his brows at you.
“Not long.” You replied, holding your warm cup in your hands and giggled as Kal frantically dug a hole a short distance away. “A little more than a year.” You explained, taking a gulp of your tea, turning your eyes back to Henry.
“City life is not for you either?” Henry laughed, setting his coffee cup down on the patio table.
“I try to avoid it as much as possible.” You grinned at him, your eyes guarded.
“You're not from around here, are you?” He asked, tilting his head at you, brow drawn together. “Your accent is nothing I've ever heard before.” He commented, he had been trying to place it since encountering you in the meadow.
“No, I'm not.” You shook your head at him, shyly dropping your eyes to your teacup. “My family are kind of like gypsies. They travel around Europe a lot, living their own life, on their own terms. So, I've picked up bits and pieces growing up and it sorta mashed into an accent that doesn't really belong to a specific place.” You laughed, shaking your head.
“People always try guessing where I'm originally from with it, but never get it right.” You added, amused.
“So, what made you settle in England?”
You shrugged your shoulders at him, then smiled as Kal trotted over to you, dropping a filthy tennis ball into your lap. “I wanted to put down roots.” You replied, taking up the ball and tossed it for Kal.
“Plus, I got a good job here.”
“What do you do?”
“Mainly, I'm a dog walker.” You replied, taking the ball Kal brought back to you. “But, I do some dog sitting on the side as well.” You told Henry, throwing the ball for him again.
“That explains a bit of why Kal likes you so much.” Henry commented, watching Kal's mad dash for the neon yellow ball across the yard. “He usually doesn't bring his favorite ball to people he's just met.” He explained, watching Kal charge back towards you with the dirt and slobber covered ball in his mouth.
“I've always had an affinity with animals.” You smiled, gently wrestling the ball out of his mouth and giving another throw, a bit further this time, then shivered.
“Are you all right?” Henry frowned at you, seeing the soft tremor rock your body. “Are you cold?” He asked, it was a bit brisk outside.
“No, I'm fine.” You chuckled, sitting your almost empty cup down on the table in front of you and stood. “I should really be going. I have some work I need to be doing.”
“Oh.” Henry replied, saddened, and stood with you. “I shouldn't have kept you so long, I'm so sorry.”
“It's quite all right, Henry.” You assured him with a soft smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you both.” You told him and Kal as he returned. “And, thank you for helping me find my keys.”
“Of course.” He nodded, forcing a smile. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“See you, Kal.” You smiled at the Akita patting him on the head, then nodded to Henry and started back off towards the meadow.
You were just inside the ring of trees and about to roll up the sleeve of your shirt, when you heard feet on the path behind you, then the sound of Henry calling out your name, and yanked your sleeve down and turned around to see what it was he wanted.
“Are you all right?” You asked, lifting your brows at him.
“Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, a little out of breath from running after you. “I was wondering, if you weren't busy and didn't mind, since he seemed to have really taken to you and everything.” He babbled on. “If you could take Kal on a walk for me, tomorrow?” He asked, biting the corner of his lip with shy uncertainty. “I have a bunch of work meetings I have to make and I don't want him to just get stuck around the house or digging even more holes around the property.” He explained to you.
You grinned at him, touched. “Sure, I'd love to.” You agreed, filling him with relief. “Do you have a specific time you would like me to come?”
“Um,” Henry frowned, his brow pinched as he looked at his smartwatch. “The main bulk of them are around noon. So, any time between then and one, if that works for you?” He said, looking back up at you.
“That'll work out fine.” You nodded, smiling.
“Excellent.” Henry grinned, his face lit up with excitement. “Just come round and knock.”
“Will do.” You assured him, amused that you could easily read his face and eyes. “I'll see you tomorrow, Henry.” You chuckled and turned on your heels and continued on into the meadow.
“I can't wait.” Henry replied after you, giddy and nervous.
You continued on through the meadow, unsure if Henry would still be standing in the ring of trees watching you walk in the direction you had told him you lived in. All you needed was for him to see through your ruse. So, you stepped into the furthest set of trees, glancing around to make sure no one was around to witness or stumble upon you leaving. Seeing the coast was clear, you yanked up your sleeve, rubbing the mark on your forearm with the heel of your palm and took a deep breath, closing your eyes.
“Open the way and return me home, Occam.” You called out through an invisible bond that connected you to your true home, like an umbilical cord between a mother and her babe.
The glitter of blue light illuminated the cluster of trees and brush around you, like it had in the middle of the meadow not an hour before, and taking another deep breath, you stepped through it and let it close behind you.
“Did you get it?”
You sighed and rubbed your face. “No, I didn't get it.” You replied, looking at your father. “I ran into an unseen issue.”
“And what issue was that?”
“The guy that has it.” You answered, rubbing the back of your neck.
Your father's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at your words. “He caught you in his home?”
“Thankfully, no.” You chuckled, patting him on the chest and walked by him. “I crossed through the pocket door, where we suggested I make it.” You explained as the both of you walked towards home. “But, no soon after I arrived, so did his dog. He's adorable too.” You quipped, smiling at the image of Kal in your mind. “He looks like a black and white bear, with a long curly tail!”
“Oh, if I could have brought him home with me-”
“Sweetheart.” Your father snorted, amused and patted you gently on the back. “I'd have to build a whole new world for all the animals you keep wanting to bring back with you.” He laughed, shaking his head at you.
“Tell me what happened.” He gently pressed you back onto the subject.
“Right.” You laughed, shyly. “Well, his dog showed up and he came after him.”
“You're sure it's the same man?”
“I am.” You nodded, heaving a tired sigh. “I saw him outside of that archaeologist's office yesterday morning.”
“Master Simperwill, we've gotten intel on a possible subject.”
Darius looked up from his desk. “A possible subject for what, Vena?” He replied, lifting a brow at her.
“Serpents.” Vena answered him. “An agent in the field, who's been tracking a known Serpent, Tate Forester, followed him to an office in London, England.”
“What kind of office, exactly?” Darius questioned her, his interest peaking.
“From what my agent gathered, he's an archaeologist with a doctorate's degree in the field.” Vena read off a tablet she was holding in her hand. “His knowledge is quite extensive as well, coming from a long line of archaeologists, explorers and historians. It seems he might even know some things about our culture.” She said, glancing up at her boss.
Darius leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers against his thigh. “Do we know why this Forester went to see the archaeologist?” He asked her, troubled.
“No, he lost track of Forester when he went inside the archaeologist's office.” Vena shook her head.
“What's this archaeologist's name?”
“Um...” Vena flipped through several of the papers clipped to her tablet. “Dr. Richard O'Connell.”
Darius let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his graying hair. “We'll need someone to go and investigate this Dr. O'Connell to find out what it is the Serpents want with him and what he knows about us.”
“I can get one of my agents on it right away, Sir.” Vena nodded at him, turning towards the door.
“No.” Darius replied, shaking his head, having already made up his mind.
“Sir?” She frowned, turning back to him.
“Have my daughter come to my office.” He told her, nodding his head. “Yes, have her come see me.”
“Right away.” Vena nodded back at him, finally leaving his office.
A knock sounded on Darius's door several minutes later. “Come in!”
“You asked for me?” You said, stepping into his office.
“I did.” Darius replied, grinning lovingly at you. “I have something I need you to do.”
“All right.” You nodded and approached his desk, plopping down in a chair in front of it. “What's on your mind?”
“I need you to go into the base world and learn what you can about an archaeologist, Dr. Richard O'Connell. Follow him and learn whatever you can from him.” Darius explained to you.
You blinked at your father, then shook your head at him. “Why?” You asked, frowning.
“Vena thinks he has dealings with the Order of the Serpents.” He replied, biting his lip, worriedly.
“You think a human is in league with the Order of the Serpents?” You echoed, leaning forward in your seat.
“I don't necessarily believe the Doctor is in league with them, but I'm sure they're using humans for their own means.” Darius sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “We need to know what they're using the human for. That's where you come in, daughter.” He explained to you, dropping his hand and looking over at you.
“You're the only one I trust to do it and who knows so much about the Serpents and the base world.”
You rubbed a hand over your face, holding your father's eyes. It was true, you knew a great deal about the Order of the Serpents and the base world, and not from sitting around your people's sanctuary world of Moros reading about them; though you have done your fair share of reading about them. A great deal of your knowledge about your people's enemy came from running into them, while in the human world, or what Morosians called it, the base world. Your job in Moros was keeping them safe, doing recon work in the base world and making sure the Serpents didn't find a way into Moros.
While it was assumed that Alaric had collapsed the world cave on all of Christos's followers the day Darius led the refugees through the door that Marcus, Coda and Ian had opened and closed behind them, before separating, scattering for the safety of the Seals they carried with them.
One man had actually survived, and would go on to create what would become the Order of the Serpents.
Knox Steelmane was ordered to be one of the four to stand by the mouth of the world cave to await Alaric Saintwatcher's arrival. He bounced from foot to foot beside his creature, Kayda, his bladder screaming, as they waited in the brisk air.
“Going to piss yourself, Knox?” One of the other Riders teased him, digging his elbow sharply in Knox's side, with a hearty laugh.
“Go to hell, Jonas.” Knox grumbled back, shoving at the older man away.
“Seems like you're already in it.” One of the other Riders ribbed him, grinning.
“Look!” Jonas yelled out, pointing to the skies overhead.
The group looked to where he was pointing and saw Alaric and Tila making their descent toward them and the mouth of the world cave. They clustered around Alaric and his creature after they landed and approached, closely following them inside.
“Where are the rest of your brats?” Christos's voice echoed over to Alaric.
Knox listened to Christos and Alaric bicker back and forth with each other, still fidgeting and trying to ignore the fact he still had to piss. But, it quickly became clear to him that he couldn't hold it any longer or he would be peeing his britches. So, pretending to look at something behind his creature, Knox sneaked outside, quickly rushing behind the nearest tree, pulling open the strings at the front of his trousers and started relieving himself. He was mid-stream when he felt the first tremor rock the ground, making him stumble and stagger on his feet, urine getting on his boots.
“What the hell was that?” He snapped, fumbling to quickly retie the strings of his pants, as another shock wave rocked the earth beneath his feet.
Abandoning the rest of ties to his pants, Knox tripped and fumbled back towards the world cave his companions and leader were still in. But, as he rounded the corner of a tall rock formation, sprinting down the path to the cave, he heard the screams of his friends and the creatures inside, he was forced to skid to a halt as the entrance collapsed, blocking his only way inside.
“No, no no!” He screamed, rushing up to the dusty rubble, tossing what he could lift out of the way, desperate to get back inside. “Kayda!” He screamed for his creature, feeling her terror and injury through their bond, like it was his own agony. “Jonas! Christos! Kayda!” He wailed, still tearing at the rocks blocking the entrance, cutting and hurting his hands on the jagged granite rocks.
“No.” He whimpered, dropping to his knees and slumping against the landslide, tears streaking through the dirt and dust covering his face, sobbing as he felt the painful flickering of Kayda's life force inside of him. “Don't go.” He begged her dwindling life, clawing at the dirt and rock around him, as if he could keep Kayda alive by sheer will.
“Please, don't go.” He whimpered. “I need you.” He sniveled, but felt the last thread of Kayda's life break and fade.
Knox dropped his head back and let out an agonizing, heart wrenching howl, his eyes glowing the moss green of Kayda's scales. Taking a few moments, Knox dragged himself onto his feet, his arms limp at his sides, but his shoulders were stiff with grief and anger, as was his dusty and tear-stained face.
A dark hatred encrusted Knox's heart that day, he vowed to make those that had followed Alaric and opposed Christos pay for killing them, turning Christos into a martyr and championed his cause. He drudged through the roads to the sanctuary Alaric and the others had stayed in, while the two sides battled. But, when he reached the gates, he found no guards, no one alerted to his presence and reacting to it.
Suspicious and careful, in case it was another ambush, Knox moved around the tall, stone wall of the building; he didn't see a single living soul, not a single Rider or Creature in sight. He made it to the south gate and found it ajar, his suspicion growing as he approached. Closing his hand around the pummel of his sword and slipping through the open gap, Knox pulled his sword, gripping it tight, as his eyes scanned the stone and wooden structures, the worn leather soles of boots squelching as he moved slowly through the ankle deep muddy pathways, but the only things that stirred were things blown by the wind. Lowering his sword, Knox let out a roar of anger, kicking a wooden crate and sending it flying across the street, then staked his sword in the mud.
“Where could they have all gone?” He huffed, pacing in his agitation.
Yanking his sword out of the ground and sheathing it on his hip again, he began picking his way through the buildings, looking for any clues to the group's whereabouts, when he found the war room Alaric, Darius and Marcus had been using during the conflicts, finding the maps and open books they had been referencing and studying before they put their plan into motion to stop Christos and take everyone to safety through the door into the new world.
Leaning over the table, Knox picked up one of the books and lifted a brow at the page it had been left on.
“Edward William's Theory.” He read at the top of the page, blindly pulling out a chair and sitting down as he read the material. “They can't possibly think this could work.” He huffed, tossing the book back onto the table, leaning forward to look at the maps, drumming his fingers on the table as he studied them. “But, where could they have gone, without people noticing that many Riders and creatures were on the move.” He reasoned with himself, reaching out to take up the book again, tapping his finger against the page.
Hell bent on finding out where the others went, Knox gathered every scrap of material that was on the table, every book, map and sheet of paper, whether they had connection to their plans or not. He studied them in and out and became convinced they had managed to replicate the theory. So sure of it, Knox created his own group of followers, the Order of the Serpents, to keep Christos plan alive to grant rightful control over the Riders and creatures, to rule over the world, as they felt they should.
But, first, Knox and his group of Serpents needed to discover where Marcus, Ian and Coda had vanished to with the three Seals that would open the door to Moros, and they had spent the last few centuries trying to track them down.
To no avail, until, a fated phone call from a certain archaeologist.
“All right, I'll leave right away, then.” You sighed, nodding your head at your father.
“Excellent.” Darius nodded back at you. “Try to stay out of trouble, hm?” He grinned at you, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
“Who, me?” You grinned back at him, a similar sparkle in your own eyes. “Always.” You chuckled, standing. “I'm as troublesome as a church mouse.”
“Of course you are.” He echoed, huffing with amusement. “Now, I want you to go and see Vena, she has a majority of the details on the subject and she can suggest a place for you to pocket into.” He instructed you.
“Will do, papa.” You nodded, heading for the door.
“I want you back, as soon as you find out anything!” He added, calling out after you.
You made a motion with your hand, signaling to him that you heard what he said, before finding your way to Vena's office down the way. “My father said you have the details for my mission into the base world.” You said, lifting a brow at her.
“Yes.” Vena nodded, looking up from a map. “I was just looking for a place you could pocket into.” She explained, looking back down at the map, which you recognized as a map of London. “The archaeologist's office is just here.” She said, sticking a pin near the central part of London.
“I've been to several places around that area.” You commented, leaning over the map and narrowing your eyes at it. “I've created a pocket door into an establishment that's just here, more than once.” You explained, taking up a pin and poking it into the map several streets down from Dr. O'Connell's office.
“It's a big box store of theirs, they never notice me coming in and out of it.”
“Great.” Vena smiled up at you. “Then, that can be your point of entry and exit.”
“Is there anything else I need to know about this guy?” You asked, studying her.
“The archaeologist or the Serpent?” She asked, lifting a brow at you.
“Either? Both?” You replied, shaking your head.
“Well, the Archaeologist is one Richard O'Connell, he's quite distinguished in his occupation, as are several in his family. He doesn't seem to have any criminal or nefarious deeds and background that I or my agents could find.” Vena answered, shuffling papers around. “As for Tate Forester, the Serpent, his record is extensive. He has several arrests, some for theft, breaking and entering and assault. He's even done time.”
“So, he's a nasty one.”
“I've dealt with worse.” You commented, offhandedly, then glanced at one of the two clocks on Vena's wall. “It's almost seven am in the base world, I should get going.” You said, making a few calculations in your head.
“Yes, you should.” Vena nodded, biting her lip.
“Right.” You nodded back at her, smiling softly. “I'll see you later, Vena.” You chuckled, seeing yourself out of her office, then went to the house you lived in and changed into an outfit that would allow you to blend in with the humans, and a small backpack of items you might need. “Hey, Occam.” You smiled, stepping outside and happily greeting your creature as he landed before you.
“I've got some business to do in the base world.” You told him, stroking his snout. “I shouldn't be gone for too long.” You said, opening the bond between the pair of you. “You behave and don't go bullying Mundu, while I'm gone either.” You added, smirking at his huff and the rattle of his scales as he shook his mighty head at you.
“All right, Occam, let's open a portal.”
You pulled up the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing and pressed your palm to his head, both your and Occam's eyes closing, feeling the warm tingle of your shared magic undulating between you. A gentle breeze stirred around the two of you, the mark on your forearm grew warm and glowed as the bright blue pocket door opened beside you. Patting Occam, you turned and stepped through the portal, then with a rush and a pop in your ears, you found yourself in a cramped dressing cubicle with mounted full-length mirrors on three sides and discarded clothes and hangers strewn about.
Turning, you opened the latch to the door and stepped out of the changing room, pausing for a moment to watch the oblivious shoppers, pushing their carts, stopping at racks of clothing or purchasing their items. Sighing, you slipped into the flow of the crowd and out the front doors to the street, taking a moment to orient yourself and headed in the direction of O'Connell's office.
You looked up at the tall office building and headed inside, checking the nameplates for what floor the archaeologist was on, then bypassed the lifts, having no trust in them, and took the several flights of stairs to the third floor. Coming out on the floor, you glance around, finding a young blonde woman sitting behind a desk, flipping through a magazine, seemingly unaware of your presence, as you approach her, forcing you to clear your throat twice to get her attention.
“Can I help you?” She asked, sticking her nose up at you with extreme distaste.
“Is Mr. O'Connell in?” You asked, narrowing your eyes back at her.
“No, he is not.” She huffed, picking her magazine back up. “He won't be in for at least three hours. He's teaching a two-hour class in Oxford's School of Archaeology this morning at six am, then it's an almost hour and a half train ride back here to London for him.”
You looked up at the clock on the wall above her head, it was just past seven, meaning you had hours before O'Connell showed back up at his office for regular work. “Thanks.” You sighed, but she was already absorbed in her magazine again.
Making your way back downstairs, you popped back out onto the street and turned left, following the flow of foot traffic and shops down to the local Starbucks, to order yourself a tall, blended Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino with whip cream, paying for it with the money you made from a few business dealings you had done, using your skill for tracking and finding people to your advantage in the base world, since Moros didn't have any money or currency. They shared, grew or created what they needed to survive and thrive. It enabled you to have real human money in your pocket, so you could buy things, like coffee from the famous Starbucks, you had seen countless humans carrying around with them, or to buy something to eat, even bring things back to Moros, even different clothes and books. Many types of technology from the base world didn't work in Moros, so you never bothered buying a mobile phone or a laptop.
Though, you had always yearned for one.
Having your coffee in hand, you went back to O'Connell's office building, opting to sit in the building's lobby to wait for his return. Putting your backpack on the floor between your feet and pulling out the novel you had been reading, you slowly sipped on your drink as you thumbed through it; killing the time until Dr. O'Connell arrived from Oxford to his office.
Your coffee was gone and your leg and butt-cheek were starting to fall asleep by the time the door to the building opened, admitting a group of four people, two men and two women. You lifted a brow at them, but kept your eyes on your book, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.
“Your lecture was amazing, Dr. O'Connell.” One of the women commented as the group approached the lifts.
You lifted your eyes, watching the two males, to see which of them answered.
“Thank you, Kimmy.” The taller of the two men, with graying blond hair and a pudgy middle replied, smiling at her and pressing the button for the third floor.
You shifted in your seat, watching the group pile into the lift and ride it up. Now that you knew what the good archaeologist looked like, it made your job of tracking him a lot easier. A few minutes later the two girls and the guy came back down in the lift, chatting and holding a copy of a book with O'Connell's face on the back of it; no doubt something written on his career and life. Watching them go out the door, you got up and used the bathroom that was in the lobby, before coming back out and took your seat again, intent on waiting there until O'Connell left for either his lunch break or to go home.
An hour later, the ding for the lift doors echoed through the lobby, catching your attention, as a tall, dark and curly haired man stepped out of them. He was handsome, for sure, but that wasn't the tingle that drew you to him as he walked by you, towards the front doors. There was something about him that called out to you, that made you want to stand up and follow him out of the building, to wherever it was he was going; and you didn't understand why. But, as soon as he was out of the building and you could no longer see him, the tingle flowing in your spine vanished, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded.
It wasn't five minutes later that Dr. O'Connell came flying through the lobby, his long coat billowing behind him as he yanked his mobile out of his pocket, frantically dialing a number on it. You waited a moment for him to get out onto the street, before stuffing your book back into your backpack and got up, swinging it onto your back, slipping your arms through the straps, and looking left and right, before catching sight of him and dashing in that direction.
You kept at a reasonable distance from Dr. O'Connell, but still close enough to hear him speaking to whoever it was he called.
“It's Rick O'Connell.” He was saying, walking quickly in his agitation. “You told me to call you, if I ever found anything that looked like Dragonic.”
“Dragonic.” You mumbled to yourself, frowning.
“I'm pretty sure.” Dr. O'Connell was explaining to his caller. “No. I wasn't sure if it was the real thing or not. So, I let the guy that brought it to me, take it back with him.” He said, suddenly stopping and turning around, but you casually walked by him, as if nothing was amiss. “I can contact him and get it back, if you like?” He said, frowning to himself and started walking again.
“It was a disc shaped object, with a dragon on it.” He described the object he had called them about. “A man brought it to me, his name is Henry Cavill.”
Your ears perked up at the name and the description of the object. Biting your lip, you picked your pace and headed back towards the department store you had used to enter the base world, sneaking back into the same dressing room and opened a pocket door back to Moros.
“Father!” You shouted, rushing into his office.
“I'm here, I'm here, daughter!” He called back, appearing. “What is it? What's happened? Are you all right?” He asked, looking you over, urgently.
“I'm well.” You assured him, out of breath. “I come with news.”
“Well, sit and catch your breath first, child.” He told you, ushering you to a seat and bringing you a warm cup of tea, with a splash of something stronger in it. “Now, tell me. What is it you've learned?” He asked, leaning back against his desk in front of you.
“I found the archaeologist in his office building, it was easy enough.” You told him, slowly sipping your tea and taking slow, deep breaths. “I had to wait some time for him to show up, he was doing work for one of the base world's schools. But, once he did arrive, it didn't take long for something to happen.” You explained to him.
“And, what did you find?”
“The man, a Henry Cavill, he said his name was...”
“You talked to these men?”
“No.” You shook your head at him. “I talked to only his secretary, to see if he was in. That's how I found out he was not in, at the time. But, Dr. O'Connell wasn't back in his office long after his teaching engagement, when he apparently had a client bring him something. I didn't see the meeting or the object. But, when I saw the man leaving, I felt oddly attracted to him and not because he was handsome either.” You chuckled, hiding your shy smirk in the rim of your cup.
Darius rolled his eyes at you. “The object, did they describe it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning forward.
“Dr. O'Connell left his office soon after the man, Mr. Cavill, left. He made a phone call to someone. Apparently, he's meant to call them, if he encounters anything, Dragonic, and described the object Mr. Cavill brought to him.”
“It was a round disc with a dragon on one side of it.”
Your father's face fell, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Dragons.” He whispered, pushing off his desk and began pacing his office.
“It's what they call our creatures.” You said, watching him. “Dragons.”
“Yes.” He nodded, stroking his bearded chin and pinched his bottom lip, as he brooded. “Did the archaeologist have the disc on him?”
“No.” You shook your head. “He said, Cavill still had it with him, because he wasn't sure if the object was the real thing or not.”
Darius turned back to you. “You said, when this Cavill was leaving, you were drawn to him, and not just because of his looks.”
“Yes, I wanted to follow him, to go with him. There was a tingle up my spine, like the feeling I get when I use my magic with Occam.” You explained to him, frowning and tilting your head at him.
“By the Order,” Your father gasped. “He's in possession of one of the Seals.”
#Henry Cavill#HenryCavill#Henry Cavill RPF#Henry Cavill FanFic#Viking-Raider Fics#Seals of the Lost#Seals of the Lost *fic*#Dragons#RPF#World Building#Magic#Stalking#Henry Cavill/You#Henry Cavill/Reader#Henry Cavill x You#henry cavill x reader#Kal#Kal Cavill#Teleporting#reader pov#Henry Pov#Oxford#multiverse#multiworld#teleporting#Dog sitting#Spying#History#Fictional History#Modern Fictional History
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The Wife - Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.
TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6573 words)
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons.
First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Strange reports were made of late night magic rituals, and more than once the gentleman had been seen with red stained hands – though it was unclear whether the stains stemmed from blood, or the powders he would use to draw markings on his face.
Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness; and no one wanted to risk a familiar connection with a woman who ended her days in Bethlem Royal Hospital – in common tongue, Bedlam Insane Asylum.
Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.
---
Rosalind was seated in front of the small fireplace in her room at Mrs. Owen’s boarding house, fiddling with the garnet ring she wore on the long finger of her right hand. The fire had long since gone out, but she hadn’t the stamina or even will to get up and feed the dying embers with more wood. As it was, the cold she felt streaming through her veins went well with the chill of the room.
In her hand, she held a letter sent by Mr. Thoyt; the lawyer of her late father-in-law. She’d read it twice; and then once more, just to see if she had not been mistaken.
To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Mrs. Fanny Owen
Dear Madam, I sincerely hope this letter finds you well, as I received information that your absence from the funeral of your late father-in-law, was due to an ailment of some kind. Had you attended, I had a seat saved for you in the front pew, where it would have been proper for the heiress of Mr. Horace Delaney to be seated. Alas, I had to take the seat myself, as to not leave it unused; and make the fullness of the pews in the church seem uneven.
Rosalind rolled her eyes at this. There was no doubt in her mind that Thoyt would have filled the seat right next to her, if she had been there; claiming that would be proper, as he was the executor of the elder Delaney’s will.
I should like to extend the well wishes of Mr. Thorne Geary, who has asked if it would be in your wish to promenade with him one of the coming days. I counsel you to accept his visit; as you know he has only your well-being in mind, and bears warm sentiments towards you.
These sentiments Rosalind was well aware of; and was in fact doing her best to avoid the man, so she would not have to spend another drawn out visit, avoiding the topic of widows and widowers remarrying.
It is my hope that your ailment is not of the heart, for I fear I have rather disturbing news to pass on to you; and would not want to make you even more frail. I must inform you that James Keziah Delaney has returned to London. He arrived at the funeral service shortly before the minister began his sermon. These past ten years have changed him much, but it is indeed him.
James. After 3 years as a scorned wife, with a runaway husband, and then 7 more as a widow; he’d returned. A hard knot had formed in her stomach as she read on.
My dear, I urge you to avoid any contact with Mr. Delaney. He is, I reiterate, very different than the gentleman you knew; and from the looks of him, more beast than man. I will be happy to offer any legal aid you might need to separate from him, and fight for your inheritance. James Delaney was proclaimed dead 7 years ago; but as he has been gone for so long, I am sure we can find some legal way to proclaim you continued sole heiress of the Delaney fortunes – among them, the rights to the area in America known as Nootka Sound. I should like to call on you at your earliest disposal. With regards; Robert Thoyt, solicitor.
Rosalind’s hands were shaking, as she held on to the letter. She got on her feet, gazing at the intricately decorated chest in front of the bed in her small room. It had been a gift from her father-in-law; one that he had purchased on one of his many travels. It was the only gift she had ever received from the man, that hadn’t been given out of some sense of responsibility to her. She laid down the letter on the bedside table, and walked over and opened the chest. Moving around gloves, fabrics, unfinished embroidery works, and small boxes of beads and trinkets; she reached the bottom of the chest, where a for years untouched muslin gown lay, next to a veil of fragile lace. She pulled out the delicate dress, and laid it on the bed. It still had a dark stain on the front, from where the minister had spilt wine on her, as her husband and she had taken communion together after being wed. Once outside the church, James had stroked his index finger over the red stain – which was just over the left breast, and smiled. “It matches your lips, Rose”, he’d said; and her distress over having her wedding gown ruined in such a manner, left way to happiness. The way any woman should feel on her wedding day. She hadn’t realized she was crying, until another stain disgraced the muslin; one from a tear.
It was all too much to believe. This man, whom she’d cherished with a naïve and young heart, had suddenly reappeared, after being proclaimed dead. She had to see if it was true; if it was truly him.
There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside; her large figure filling the doorway. “Lunch is ready, miss Beauchamp”, she said. “Thank you, but I will be going out”, Rosalind said. Mrs. Owen smiled brightly. “Will you be meeting Mr. Geary, then?”, she asked. “I will not”. “Mr. Thoyt?”. Rosalind had become a master at keeping her composure in regards to her nosy landlady; but today she was a little less inclined to be polite. “It is a private matter. Please call a carriage for me”, she said shortly, and the stout woman recoiled slightly at her tone. “Right away, miss”.
After the door closed again, Rosalind stripped off her plain, cotton day dress, and put on a dark blue gown; more suited for an afternoon visit. She shrugged off her inclination to wear the red gown. That would be too much. Her dark grey jacket, a purse and a capote to match, finished her ensemble. Her boots weren’t much to speak of, but they kept her feet mostly dry; though the soles were wearing thin.
The carriage was waiting for her outside the boarding house. She asked the driver to take her back to her former home.
---
Chamber House was even more dreary than when she’d been there last. The smell from the river running behind the house struck her nose, and Rosalind felt a chill go through her body. Trying to open the metal gate, she had to lean against it; putting her whole weight on the rusty thing. It made a loud screeching sound, when it finally opened.
The garden in front of the house was unkempt, and the windows on the bottom floor had been boarded up. For a moment, she considered leaving, as the building seemed abandoned. Maybe Thoyt had been mistaken, and the man at the funeral was an imposter. Smoke from the chimney let Rosalind know that someone was inside, but she had also heard stories of mudlarks roaming empty houses for warmth and the occasional cat that could be made in to dinner. This wasn’t a place for proper ladies, as countess Musgrove would say, but the countess was hardly a proper lady herself, and Rosalind had business to attend.
She went up the few steps to the door, and took a deep breath, before knocking on the door. There was the sound of a dog barking, and then some shuffling around, followed by a voice muttering at the dog. The door opened, and a slight, tired looking man appeared in front of her. “Brace…”, Rosalind greeted him quietly. The old butler stood seemingly dumbfounded at her arrival. She looked up at the sky. “It seems about to rain. May I please come in?”. “Of course, ma’am", Brace muttered, and stepped aside.
The grand hallway was less grand than it had been, years before. The house seemed dark and cold, and Rosalind did not feel inclined to take of her hat or jacket, when Brace reached for them. “I won’t be staying long”, she said. “I just came to see… Is it true? Is he back?”. “He is…”, Brace said with a nod. “This last week". “And you didn’t feel it necessary to inform me?”. Brace looked at the floor in front of him, and fidgeted with the hem of his tattered jacket. “He is changed, Mrs. Delaney…”, Brace began. “Miss Beauchamp”, Rosalind corrected him. Brace recoiled at this, but kept his expression as indifferent as possible. “Yes, miss”.
Rosalind walked towards the sitting room with as much calm as she could muster. “Is he here?”, she asked. “No”, Brace replied. “He is… on business. I don’t know when he’ll return”. “I’ll have to wait, then”, Rosalind sighed. Brace stepped in front of her. “Ma’am… Miss”, he said. “You shouldn’t. James isn’t… He is not the young man you knew”. “And I’m not the girl he knew either”, Rosalind retorted. “In any case, I need to speak with him…”. Brace must have seen the determination on her face, because he stepped aside, and let Rosalind enter the room.
It was dark, and smelled of a mixture of spices, whiskey; and wet firewood and ashes – only slightly taking away from the smell of the river. The furniture was the same, though damaged from the moisture seeping through the walls from the Thames. A large grey dog rested by the unlit fireplace, and lifted its head slightly as she entered. Though it had made its presence known earlier, it seemed to be more bark than bite; and simply let out a huff, as she seated herself on the sofa. It raised its eyes to look at her, and she smiled slightly at it; feeling like she got a sort of smile in return. “Tea, miss?”, Brace asked. “No, thank you”, Rosalind said. “Good. We don’t have any”, the butler smiled. “And from what I remember, you prefer coffee”. His expression had warmed, since he’d apparently accepted that Rosalind had no intention of leaving. She suspected he was trying to soften the blow of whatever she was about to face. “That sounds lovely. Thank you, Brace”.
After the butler had disappeared, Rosalind took some time to get reacquainted with the room in which she’d spent many hours, years before. Seated on this same couch, she’d kept her father-in-law company, as he rambled about his business and how everyone was trying to cheat him. She’d had tea with uninteresting ladies from all over town, who all came with well wishes after the wedding, combined with insincere regrets upon the departure of her husband, so soon after. The same night, in fact. A whole year she’d managed to keep her sanity in the house, which became draftier and drearier almost by the second. When his son had up and left suddenly, the elder Delaney had gone into a strange bout of melancholy; almost seeming to feel guilty about the fact. Rosalind did her best to keep up the façade of a good wife and daughter-in-law, but found it harder and harder to keep up with Mr. Delaney’s moods, and when the letters from her husband stopped, she found no reason to stay in the house any longer. She would visit weekly, but never for long, as the old man seemed rather indifferent to whether she was there or not, and mostly stared into the fireplace, and muttered to himself.
Horace Delaney had made sure she received an allowance to keep up with expenses; but 4£ a month did not stretch far. In the end, Rosalind had taken up work as a chaperone and occasional tutor to young ladies in the south-east of England – never straying too far from London.
Two years after leaving the Chamber House, Rosalind received a letter, letting her know that her husband was suspected dead in a shipwreck. The news hit her painfully hard. Deep down, she had always hoped that James would return to her one day, even after he was thought of as dead; though rationally, she knew better. She’d dreamed of him often. He was always at a distance, always out of reach. It was agony to miss him so. Now, he had returned, and as it was, clearly not for his wife.
Soon after, her visits became rarer. The elder Delaney more or less ignored her when she came, and more than once, he’d asked Brace to tell her to leave, while she was still in the room; so he could get back to work. She’d attended Zilpha's wedding, but the two had never been close; merely friendly acquaintances, with a dead brother and husband in common. Once Zilpha had passed, after a sudden disease that made her seem old beyond her years in just weeks, Horace made it clear he had no wish to see any kind if family; so for two years, Rosalind had stayed away from Chamber House.
Until today.
Brace returned with a tray of coffee and biscuits that looked hard enough to crack a tooth on. Out of sheer politeness, Rosalind picked up one, and dipped it in her cup of coffee, to soften the treat. Brace threw a biscuit at the dog, who gulped it up without much trouble chewing it. Rosalind dropped her biscuit on the floor herself, and the dog got up, and slowly walked over to eat it. It lifted its head, and looked at her; and she timidly scratched it behind its ear.
Suddenly, it turned its head, and looked towards the hallway. The door opened, and a gust of wind blew through the house; making it sound like the building was whimpering, as it passed through the cracks in the walls. A dark figure stepped into the hallway; the sound of his boots loud as canons. A long coat covered his broad frame, and he wore a hat; pushed forward on his head, and hiding his face in shadow. “Brace! Coffee…”, he ordered; his hoarse voice leaving very little trace of the raspy, warm one Rosalind remembered. Brace hurried to greet his master, and took his hat and coat. Rosalind sat very still, with bated breath and beating heart. “In the sitting room, but… sir, you have a guest”, Brace said. “I’m not inclined to receive anyone. Tell them to go away”. “You will want to see her… Maybe”. Rosalind got on her feet, and slowly turned to face the doorway.
James Delaney had indeed changed. Gone was the young gentleman, with the boyish charm and nervous smile; and instead, there stood a bearded, brute man, who had danger and darkness written all over his expression. A scar ran from his brow, and down over his eye and cheek.
Yet, she could not find a flaw on him. He was even more striking than the day they’d met. Love and pain streamed through her body. James took one look at his wife; nodded, and let out a breathy grunt. “Rosalind…”, he said. “James…”, she breathed; trying to keep her composure. Rosalind felt as if she might faint at any moment. She regretted coming to see him, and unsure what had been her reason. But now she was here, as was he; and internally, she struggled not to throw herself into his arms, or attack him with the fire poke.
Rosalind sat back down, and James took his place in what had been his father’s chair, opposite her; looking at the dog. He took a biscuit, and threw it in the air. The dog caught it, and gobbled it down. Brace went over to the samovar, and looked at Rosalind. “More coffee, miss Beauchamp?”, he asked. James eyes flew towards Rosalind, and then down at the ring adorning her right hand; and something hard ghosted his face. She immediately regretted not having worn gloves. “Yes. More coffee for miss Beauchamp, and then maybe a cup for your master, hmm?”, James said. “Of course, sir. And I’ve prepared a cod for dinner. Atticus brought it”. James replied with a grunt, and Brace poured coffee for them. “Will you be staying, miss?”. “No, thank you Brace. My landlady is expecting me at the boarding house”, Rosalind said. Once again, James gave her an unreadable, hard look.
Brace stood uncomfortably by the fireplace, before finally pretending to remember something he had to see to, and scuttered off. James and Rosalind sat in silence for a long moment. Trying to calm herself, Rosalind took a sip of her coffee. “I was told you died”, she said quietly. “I did”, James replied, and drank the entire content of his cup in one go. “You’re a widow, miss Beauchamp”. Rosalind’s cheeks flushed red. “It was easier to use my maiden name…”. “To separate yourself from my father, or me…?”, James grunted. Rosalind looked down. “To start anew”, she whispered. “I had to start over, after you left”.
James seemingly ignored that last sentence. “You did not attend my father’s funeral”, he said, his eyes fixed on something on the far wall. You did not attend our wedding night, Rosalind wanted to reply; but thought the better of it. “I felt indisposed”, she said meekly. “Too indisposed to say a last farewell to the man who has been keeping up your expenses these last 10 years?”, James challenged. “Whom you were set to inherit this house and the rest of his fortune from?”. “I am not kept”, she retorted. James eyes flickered. “I felt indisposed to sit through a sham of a service set up by a lawyer, who had no love for the deceased; and to then have to avoid the wandering eyes of every man in the room, hoping to get his hand on said fortune. And me”.
James raised his brows at her, making the scar on his face even more prominent. “You’ve had suitors, then?”, he asked. “I’ve been a widow, not a nun”, Rosalind retorted, an angry edge to her voice. James’ lip twitched into a slight smile, which was gone as soon as it had arrived. “But never remarried…”, he said. “You know I didn’t…”. “You could have gone to France. Stayed with relatives there. They could have found a suitable match for you”. “I have no family to speak of in France. And I’ve never met any of the few I have”.
With a loud bang, James put one foot up on the ottoman in front of his chair, and pulled off his boot. “So, is that why you are here? Because you want to be married?”, he asked, and took off the other boot. “You said my husband was dead. It seems that is not an option”. Rosalind did not understand why uttering the words brought her as much pain as it did; but she felt something break inside her when she did. “Then why?”. “I need to know where I stand. Dead as you may be, here you are; and my situation is much different than I thought it to be”, she said. “It is clear that I am no longer the heiress of this… grand house, and your father’s holdings. To add to that is that, legally I am bound to you; and you to me…”. “I will keep up with your expenses”, James said, interrupting her. “How much was my father providing?”. Rosalind bit her cheek, and looked down again. “4£ a month”, she whispered.
James eyes widened. “My father only granted you 4£ a month?”, he said. “That is not much money for hats, lace gloves and whatnot”. “Don’t insult me, James”, Rosalind said. “You know full well that I couldn’t care less about hats and gloves”. “Do I? I have not seen you in ten years”, James shrugged. “And who’s fault is that?”, Rosalind hissed. “Hmm”, James muttered. “How have you been making a living? I take it you have had to take on employment? There aren’t many ways for a gentle woman to make money. I hope you have not been forced to solicit yourself”. His voice was cold, and his eyes traced her figure. “You are cruel…”, Rosalind said. “And you are not first to have uttered those words. Though; vicious and evil are more common, when I am spoken of". James took a sip of his coffee, and studied her face for a reaction. Rosalind kept her composure, surprising even herself at her ability to do so.
“You should know I have received a letter from Mr. Thoyt, your father’s lawyer", she said. James met her eyes again, narrowing his own. “He has offered me legal aid in regards to claiming your inheritance”. “Which you will accept, of course". James said. “No. I will not. It is not my inheritance. I didn’t even truly want it, when I thought you were dead". He looked down at her feet, and she instinctively pulled them backwards, and tried to cover them with her skirts. “You could have used it", James said. “I don’t want your family’s money. That was not why I married you".
James got on his feet abruptly, making it clear it was time for Rosalind to leave. She stood up, and walked towards the hallway; clutching her purse. “I will provide you with 15£ a month. I do not want you taking on employment with anyone anymore… no matter what it is”, James said. “Why do you care? Very few people know I am your wife; and I do not use your name”, Rosalind replied. “I will not be dragging it through the mud”. “Call it taking responsibility for my mistakes”, he said. “Is that what I am?”. Her voice was shaking at this point.
James met her eyes, and let out a short, audible breath. “Take yourself to a shoemaker, and have him make you some better boots”, he said. “The ones you have on, are almost worn out. Have them send the bill to me”. “No, thank you. I shall mend them”, Rosalind replied. She went to leave, but James put a hand on the doorhandle; and blocked her exit. “You will buy new boots, and I will see that your current accommodations are suitable”, he said, looking seriously at her. “You don’t know where I live”, Rosalind said. “I will find out”. There was no doubt in his voice, he was merely making a statement of fact.
James opened the door for her, but before she could exit, he stepped outside, and looked across the garden, and turned his head to gaze down the road; almost as if making sure no one was watching them. When he finally stepped aside, Rosalind walked down the steps; and turned to face him one last time. “James…”, she said. “Rose…”, he replied; making her breath hitch. His eyes warmed for a second, before he stepped back inside, and closed the door.
---
Rosalind had a strange dream that night.
She was walking along the shore of a muddied lake. A way out in the water, with his back to her, stood a broad-shouldered man with markings on his skin. He wore no clothes, save a cloth to cover his privates. A dark gravelly voice was speaking strange words she did not understand, and when she called out to the figure in the water, he turned around. He was the one speaking, but the words were sounding as if they were coming from somewhere very close; not from where he was standing.
She closed her eyes in fear, and when she opened them again, he was standing right in front of her. It was James, but he had a painted face, and his eyes were black. She closed her eyes again, and covered her face. A strong pair of hands grabbed her wrists, and pulled them down. “Look at me”, James said. “No… You’re dead”, Rosalind said. “Am I? I am here now…”. “You left me. And then you came back as someone else”.
She opened her eyes again, and saw James as she had seen him earlier that day. No paint on his face, and bright blue eyes. “I was always here”. He put his index finger on her forehead, and then just over her left breast. “And here…”. When he removed his hand, a red stain marked her nightgown. “It matches your lips, Rose”.
She woke up in a jolt, and held her hand to her chest. Looking down, she saw a red stain on her nightgown, just over her left breast.
Getting out of bed, Rosalind walked over to the washbasin, and splashed her face with the cold water. She rubbed at the stain with a moist finger, but all that did, was make it more prominent, and her nipple harden from the cold, damp fabric now covering it. She walked over to the window and looked outside. Across the street, she saw a dark figure; looking up towards her. She didn’t recognize the face, but the menacing glare she thought she could see from under the rim of the persons hat, made her instantly move backwards, and out of view of the window.
The bed felt cold and unwelcoming when she got back under the sheets.
---
As she finished her breakfast the next morning, Mrs. Owen came into the dining room, holding a medium sized parcel. “This came for you, miss. Might you have a secret admirer?”, she said. She handed Rosalind the parcel, and a letter. “And your mail”. Rosalind thanked her, and went up to her room, to examine the parcel, and read her letter in private.
Inside the parcel lay a pair of half boots, in soft, yet sturdy leather. They would keep Rosalind’s feet dry and warm, and it was clear they had not been cheap. There was no note attached to the gift; though gift might be the wrong word, as James seemed to see her more as a responsibility to take care of, rather than someone to bestow presents upon. She threw the boots in a corner, unable to define her emotions – anger or sadness, she was not sure. After a few moments of frustrated groans and a few stray tears, she walked over, and gingerly picked up the boots; dusting them off with her hand. She set them down on top of the chest.
Rosalind turned her attentions to her letter. The writing was in the blunt and crude, yet feminine hand and wording of countess Musgrove.
To; Rosalind Beauchamp c/o Fanny Owen
Dearest friend, It has come to my attention that you have recently been made aware of some rather disturbing news. An acquaintance of mine has informed me that your apparently not so late husband has returned to London. It seems to come at a terrible time, as you were so close to inheriting somewhat of a fortune; at least enough to attract a new husband. Am I mistaken in thinking Mr. Thorne Geary has taken an interest in you? In any case, please call upon me for tea this Friday afternoon, so we might play a round of cassino, and discuss your plans for your now much changed future.
Sincerely; Genevieve Musgrove, countess.
Rosalind let out a very unfeminine and impolite noise. She would rather take an ice bath of lime, than sit through another afternoon of the countess and her friends gossiping and filling their gobs with sweets. None the less, she was obliged to attend, to stay in Musgrove’s good graces; and have a chance for another employment with her. And it was not like she had a husband, who could give her a good excuse to stay away.
There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Owen stepped inside. “You have a visitor, miss”, she said, a mischievous smile on her plump face. “Perhaps the green gown, for a promenade?”. “Mr. Geary, then?”, Rosalind sighed. “Indeed. And he has mentioned on many occasions, how lovely the green goes with your ten”. Rosalind cocked a brow at her landlady. “May I trouble your maid for help with preparing? I am finding myself out of sorts”. Mrs. Owen nodded, and left the room. Soon the young maid entered. “Please, will you fetch my blue gown?”.
---
Thorne Geary was waiting in the sitting room, politely smiling at Mrs. Owen; when Rosalind entered. “Miss Beauchamp! I came to enquire upon your health, after your absence from the funeral service”, he said. “Mr. Thoyt let me know you wished to call upon me; but I am quite sure I did not respond affirmatively”, Rosalind said. A dissatisfied expression ghosted Mr. Geary’s face. “Alas, I believe we have matters to discuss”, he said through an insincere smile. “Will you do me the honor of promenading with me?”.
A little while later, Mr. Geary and Rosalind were strolling along the lanes of Hyde Park. “Your gown is quite fetching, miss Beauchamp”, the gentleman proclaimed. “Almost as fetching as the green you wore when I last called upon you”. “I am unsure whether that is a compliment, or an insult”, Rosalind replied. Geary cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable about her response.
“It was quite a shock to see James Delaney at the funeral”, Geary said. He was holding his arm in such a manner, that Rosalind was invited to take it. She ignored the gesture. “I am sure it was”, she muttered; and moved her body to put a little more distance between them. Geary stepped after her, and the smell of the herring he had obviously eaten earlier hit her nose. Rosalind detested herring. “I am sure it came as an even greater shock for you, my dear Rosalind”, he said. “Please, Mr. Geary. I do not think we are quite close enough acquaintances for pet names”. “Are we not family? In-laws?”, Geary smiled. “Now, more than ever, it would seem, as you… husband has reappeared”.
He gestured for them to walk down a smaller lane, away from curious ears. “Ever since we first met, I’ve felt a close connection to you”, Geary said. “And, then when my dear Zilpha passed… well, I must admit, I hoped we might build on that bond”. Rosalind felt bile rise in her throat. “Mr. Geary…”, she began. “Thorne, please…”, Geary insisted. “Mr. Geary!”, Rosalind said firmly. “This conversation is highly improper, and I beg of you to stop”.
Geary sighed, and looked down. “You know of my sentiments towards you. Those have not changed, merely because that savage, who forced matrimony on you years ago, is back”. “You do not know him”, Rosalind said quietly. “Neither do you. From what I am told, your courtship was very brief. There were even rumors of you being in unfortunate circumstances…”. Rosalind stopped in her tracks. “Gossip mongering, Mr. Geary? So much for close connections”, she said.
Geary stepped over to a bench in an alcove, and gestured for Rosalind to sit. “Please, miss Beauchamp… for I insist on still calling you that, and not Mrs. Delaney, if you will not let me call you by your first name”, he said. They sat down together; Rosalind aiming for sitting as far from her companion as she could. “I, of course, am well aware that your chasteness can never be questioned. You are beyond doubt the kindest, most virtuous woman I have had the pleasure to meet. Even as my betrothed walked up the aisle to become my wife, I could not take my eyes off you…”. “You should stop speaking”, Rosalind said. “Please, let me get this off my chest!”, Geary said. His voice was not pleading; but hard – and Rosalind was reminded of how her sister-in-law had wilted from a lively and smiling favorite in London society, to a grey ghost of her former self, after she married. In this moment, Rosalind knew that Mr. Geary had been the one to make his wife such.
Geary took a firm hold of her hand, and when she tried to pull it away, he grabbed her wrist; and continued his speech. “Delaney is mad. I have spoken to more than one sailor, who have told me stories, I cannot repeat in present company”, Geary said. “He should have stayed dead, and let you keep the inheritance. You and I could…”. “There is no you and I, Mr. Geary”, Rosalind tried.
Geary’s hand around her wrist tightened. “I know I am not a very wealthy man, but you and I… we both married in to the Delaney family; and we saw how that mad old bastard brought shame on the name”. “Perhaps we should have helped him, instead of standing by?”, Rosalind muttered; trying to keep herself calm, as the man held on to her. He leaned in closer, and his hot breath hit her face. “No… He got everything he deserved; and sired two wretches, who continued to do the same”. “How can you speak of your wife in such a manner?”. “She was a barren fool…”.
Rosalind finally pried herself free from Geary’s grasp, and stood up; but he grabbed her by the arm, and forced her to sit again. “Let me go”, Rosalind whimpered. She was sure to have marks on her arm after his manhandling her. Geary looked at her intently. “I can do much with the money I can make from selling that plot of land in America; and with you as my wife…”. “I am already married, sir!”, Rosalind sneered. “Are you? Delaney was back for more than a week, without letting himself be known to you. It wasn’t until Thoyt wrote you, that you knew. He hasn’t taken you in; you are still living in that boarding house”. A vile grin, which Geary clearly thought came across as calming, spread across his lips. “But, never mind that. That can all be taken care of”. “What is that supposed to mean?”. A knot had begun forming in the pit of Rosalind’s stomach, and she was shaking.
“You speak ill of my dear sister, and now you have intentions on my wife”. James appeared in front of them; a dark look about him. “Let her go”. “You interrupted our conversation, Mr. Delaney”, Geary said. “Is that what you were doing? Conversing? Or plotting my demise…”, James retorted. “In any case, you have your hands and mind on what is still mine. Release the lady”.
Rosalind tore herself from Geary, and got on her feet, moving away from the bench; and towards James. He gave her a look of dissatisfied confusion, and she went to stand next to him, her eyes on the ground. “You should have stayed dead”, Geary sneered, and got on his feet. He stood taller than James, but in no way seemed as dangerous as him. “Is that what you tell my sister, when she haunts your nightmares?”, James asked. Geary recoiled at James’ words; and James half turned towards Rosalind. “I will escort you back to your lodgings”, he said, and turned his back to Geary. Rosalind followed his lead, and they walked down the path. She felt Geary’s eyes on her back as they went.
---
They walked in silence. Rosalind struggled to keep up with James’ long strides; and after a while, she stopped, and went to sit on a bench at the side of the lane. “I have things to do. If you need to catch your breath, then be quick about it”, James said. “You don’t have to escort me. Go about your business”, Rosalind retorted. “And risk the predators setting on you? Come now, we have eyes on us”. Rosalind looked around her, seeing no one but ladies, gentlemen, and the occasional governess taking a child on a stroll. “What eyes?”.
James narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if making a decision of whether to tell her more, or hold his tongue. In the end, he settled for continuing. “Your Mr. Geary made it clear”, he said. “He is not my Mr. Geary. I’d prefer to avoid the connection all together”, Rosalind retorted. “Hmm”, James grunted. “He made it clear, as I said. I am to be taken care of. There are evil men who are out to kill me”. “And my sore feet put you in danger?”. James seemed taken aback, and slightly amused at her retort. “Perhaps you should have worn your new boots”, he said, and stretched out his hand for her to stand. Rosalind was about to take it, when she saw that James had removed his glove. “Come…”, he said; and with her heart in her throat, she took his hand.
It was as warm as she remembered, and his touch sent the same shivers down her spine, as it had those many years before. As she stood in front of him, everything around Rosalind disappeared; and all she could see, was the man in front of her. She breathed him in. Musk, fresh tobacco, grass, dirt, coffee – and that undefinable thing that was merely him. “James…”, she whispered. James expression hardened, and his eyes became dark. “No… None of that. Do not make yourself a weakness”, he said. “And do not let me become one, either. You are too good for that”. “But you…”. James let go of her hand, and his face grew almost saddened. She looked down at his hand, and saw that the tip of his index finger was red. Rosalind let out a soft gasp; and when she opened her mouth to speak, he was already walking down the path again. He slowed his pace, so she could keep up; but did not speak to her for the rest of the walk.
Once back at the boarding house, Mrs. Owen met them in the door. “Going out with one gentleman, and coming back with another… Really, miss Beauchamp”, she said in a chiding voice. “Not a common occurrence, then?”, James said. Rosalind had to will herself not to slap him. Mrs. Owen raised a pair of cold eyes. “I beg your pardon… This is a proper establishment, sir!”, she exclaimed. “And who are you?”. “Her husband”.
Mrs. Owen looked stunned, and for once, she didn’t seem to know what to say. “You are… Well, that’s… You are recently wed, then?”, she asked. “No”, James said shortly. He looked at Rosalind one final time, before turning around, and walking away.
---
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His Whole World
A Henry Cavill One Shot
Summary: A fluffy one shot based on a request I received from the lovely @thisisntmyrightera :
“Can i request something where the reader and Henry have a baby girl and all the pregnancy Kal was very protective and careful with his human mommy and now it's time to introduce him to his human baby sister, with tons of fluffy and sweetie things”
Apologies for the delay in posting this my dear. I don’t feel like I completely stuck to your request but I hope you still enjoy it all the same!
Pairing: Henry x You/Reader
Words: 6k
Warnings: Giving birth but nothing graphic. Mostly sweet Cavill fluff. Brace yourselves, it will make your teeth rot.
A/N: I don’t have enough words to thank you @alyxkbrl. You are my unofficial editor and my sanity savior when writing these brings me close to breaking point. So much love for you my darling!
Also, I listened to the Script’s ‘Never Seen Anything Quite Like You’ as I wrote this - I’d recommend playing it from the Henry’s POV part (I’ve made it bold!) while you read!
---
“How are you feeling sweetheart?” Henry asks, his voice deep and velvety smooth even over the phone. You smile and lean back into the couch, resting one hand on your swollen belly. “Big” you reply with a sigh, looking down at his gorgeous face on your phone. “Tired. Sore. Hungry. Honestly, I feel like I’m the size of a whale”. Henry offers an affectionate smile and shakes his head. “Then you're the most beautiful whale that I’ve ever seen darling ”. You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh shush. What time is the event tonight?” you ask softly, wanting to change the subject.
“7” Henry answers, glancing over to his left to where you can hear people talking nearby, “My tux is here ready to go so I’m going to start getting ready shortly”. You smile adoringly. “Make sure you send me a photo please, you know I love seeing you in a tux”. Henry smiles, “I will love. Are you going to be okay tonight? You know I don’t love the idea of you being home alone and eight months pregnant. Are you sure I can’t call mum and ask her to come over?”.
You shake your head and offer your most reassuring smile to your apparently anxious husband. “Henry, relax baby. I’m going to be fine. I’ve got Ali on speed dial if anything happens and besides, I’ve got the best protector of all watching over me”. You turn the camera so that Kal appears in the frame, Henry’s expression softening when he sees Kal laying protectively by your side.
“Good boy bear. You look after your mummy for me okay?”. Kal lets out a loud sigh and shifts to rest his head on your thigh at the sound of Henry’s voice. You smile down at Kal and pat his head lovingly, turning the phone back to you so Henry is looking at you again. You watch as he smiles and reaches up to run his fingers through his curls, unable to help your smile at the sight. Even now, even after being with him for over a year, he still manages to make you swoon with the smallest of actions.
“What are you going to do tonight my love?” Henry asks, looking over the phone towards someone calling his name before looking back to you, “Any plans?”. You laugh and shake your head, still stroking Kal with your free hand. “Ah, not much babe. Probably just sit and watch a movie or two” you reply with a small laugh, patting your stomach, “There’s not a whole lot I can do in---”. Your words trail off when you feel a sharp movement in your belly, a sudden pain in your left side as something is wedged under your ribs. You wince audibly and jolt forward, the breath knocking out of your lungs as Kal springs to attention at the sound of your pained gasp. “Sweetheart are you okay?” Henry asks quickly, his face flashing with alarm, “What happened?”.
You hold your breath as you poke at your belly, exhaling loudly when you feel what feels like a foot dislodge a few moments later. “Ahh” you exclaim in relief, giving an alarmed Kal a reassuring pat and settling back on the couch, “I’m okay. Little one’s just been really active today” you say to Henry, flashing him what you hope is a comforting smile, “I’m fine baby”. “Do you want me to come home? I can leave right now”. You shake your head insistently, patting your belly gently. “Don’t be silly Henry. Tonight’s important for you. I’ll be more than fine”.
Henry glances over at the sound of someone calling his name again, holding up a finger to them to signal that he’ll be a moment. He turns back to you and sighs, shaking his head as he smiles. “You’re so stubborn darling”. You chuckle and flash him a mischievous grin, tilting your head as you look at the screen, “That’s why you love me”. Henry laughs this time, deep and throaty, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair again. “Okay my love, I have to go and get ready. I love you okay? I’ll keep my phone on me at all times, I promise”. You nod and smile, “Okay baby, I love you more. Have fun alright? And don’t forget my photo!”. Henry grins - the utterly handsome, devastatingly sexy smile that made you fall for him all those months ago, blowing a cheeky kiss to his phone and waving at you. “I won’t. I’ll see you later tonight sweetheart. I love you”. You smile and wave and in an instant he’s gone from the screen, Kal letting out a heavy sigh as he shifts beside you on the couch.
You drop your phone and look down at Kal, stroking his head lovingly as he looks up at you with his brown, liquid eyes. “Just you and me tonight hey bear?” you ask gently, watching as he blinks slowly and closes his eyes. You smile affectionately at the massive dog cuddled at your side, thinking about how protective he’d been all throughout your pregnancy. You were three months in when you’d first noticed him acting differently, following you from room to room every time you moved about the house, constantly sitting by you as if he was guarding you from some unknown threat. He’d even started to ignore Henry as if he had eyes only for you, even sleeping by your side of the bed instead of his mat in the corner of the bedroom.
You’d heard about it - dogs becoming protective during pregnancy, but you hadn’t really believed it until you’d actually seen it. When you’d started to grow Kal’s behaviour had increased again, forever sniffing your belly or resting his head by it whenever you’d sat down. As if having an over protective, pedantic husband wasn’t enough, you now had a hundred and twenty pound bear shadow. You patted Kal’s head gently as you picked up the TV remote, flicking through the channels until you settled on a rerun episode of Sex and the City. You lounged with Kal on the couch for three episodes until the food cravings got too much, eventually hauling yourself off the sofa and making your way towards the kitchen with Kal in tow.
You set about making a bowl of mac and cheese - a food that apparently, you couldn’t get enough of with this pregnancy, pottering about the kitchen as Kal watches you closely from his spot on the floor. “Oh Kal” you breathe as you pop the bowl in the microwave and make your way over to the fridge for a piece of chocolate mud cake - another food that you couldn’t get enough of, turning to the bear as you take a bite of cake. “When is this going to be over?”. Kal lets out a gentle ‘woo’ in response and you smile, chewing on your mouthful of cake as you look down at your enormous belly.
You weren’t due for another seventeen days but you knew that the baby could technically come at any time between now and then. Still, you felt big, fat and uncomfortable and after eight and a bit months you were more than ready to be rid of your beach ball stomach. Henry on the other hand, couldn’t have been more opposite, your husband apparently loving the changes that the pregnancy had brought to your body. The way your breasts had swelled and rounded, the way your hips had somehow become even curvier than they had been, the way your belly had grown. He’d put his hands on you whenever he got the chance, tenderly caressing every part of you as he’d whisper just how much he loved you and your body. He’d worship every inch of skin every time you’d have sex - which, with your sudden spike in sex drive had been several times per week, holding you close as he’d bring you to orgasm again and again and again.
He’d been so loving and dutiful throughout your pregnancy that thinking about it almost made you tear up, the way he’d made it to every single ultrasound, every appointment and check up, every birthing class even when his ridiculous schedule made it seem impossible. So many times he’d caught red eye flights just to make it home to be at appointments with you, spending the night with his arms wrapped protectively around you only to be flying back out at dawn the next morning. When he was home he’d been nothing short of amazing, waiting on you hand and foot and catering to your every need whether it was rubbing your swollen feet or ducking out at three AM to get a can of whipped cream that you’d been craving.
His paternal side had started to show too - something that made your heart flutter and your face soften every time you saw it. The way that he’d buried himself in baby research, finding out the ultimate do’s and don’ts, both for during your pregnancy and for when the baby finally came. The way he’d spoken to his parents and his brothers, taking in every single piece of fatherly advice that he possibly could. The way he’d speak to your belly, to your baby, reading stories and even sometimes his scripts, talking to your bump and sharing just how much he was looking forward to meeting them.
Henry was going to be an incredible dad, that much you were certain of, knowing that he’d do or be anything, for you and your baby. You remembered the way he’d looked when you’d first been shown the heartbeat on the monitor in the doctor’s office, the way his eyes had widened, the way his grip on your hand had tightened. In that sudden moment your whole world had just changed, and from looking at Henry’s face as he’d stared at the screen, you’d known that his had too. Everything else in the world no longer mattered. It was just you, him and the baby.
You smile at the memory and take another bite of cake in your hand, licking your sticky fingers when your phone suddenly begins to ring. You look down to see Ali, your best friend’s name glowing on the screen and you chuckle knowing that she was calling for the millionth time to check in on you. “Hey Ali” you exclaim as you answer the call and put the phone to your ear, “How’s things?”. “I should be asking you that don’t you think?” Ali replies brightly and you can tell just from her voice that there was a smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”. You laugh, “Big. Round. Fat. Oh Al, I’m so ready to be done with this pregnancy” you answer, looking down as Kal suddenly stands and moves over to you. Ali laughs, “I bet you are. But not long now, you’ve only got a few weeks left right?”. You nod, “2 and a half to be exact, though it feels more like 2 and a half months. To be honest I’m hoping it happens earlier”.
You hear Ali giggle and you know she’s shaking her head. “How are you feeling about it all? About the birth?”. The microwave beeps and you bend to pull your mac and cheese out, frowning when Kal gets in the way and nudges your belly with his nose. “Kal stop” you scold, pushing him with your foot when he doesn’t move. “Um, how am I feeling?” you repeat as you pull the bowl out and set it on the counter. “Okay. Pretty scared actually. I mean, what if something goes wrong? What if I can’t do it?”. Ali scoffs loudly, “Come on Y/N, don’t think like that. You’re going to be fine babe. And besides, you’ll have me, and Henry right by your side the whole time”. You nod and grab a spoon, stirring through your snack, “I know. It’s just you know, it’s giving birth, it’s actually having it. It’s a big scary thing and so many things can go wrong”. “I know, but you can’t think like that. There’s no point in stressing yourself out for no reason. Speaking of, how is Henry about it all?”.
You open your mouth to answer her when Kal pushes into your legs again, letting out a whine when you look down at him. “Is that Kal?” Ali asks, her voice in your ear as Kal paws at your legs. “Yeah” you answer, looking down at him with a frown, “He’s acting really strange. He keeps whining too. What is it bear?” you ask gently, watching as he begins to pace back and forth in front of you, letting out a low growl. “I can hear him. What’s he doing?” Ali asks as you watch him, your brows furrowed as you watch the furry bear. “He’s pacing now” you reply as you put down your spoon, bending down to kneel at his level to comfort him.
You feel it as soon as your knee hits the floor, the small pop feeling and the sudden rush of fluid between your thighs. You gasp audibly, frozen in place as Kal whines and bounces from paw to paw, Ali’s voice in your ear asking if you’re okay. You let out a shaky breath, unable to answer, patting your legs and feeling the damp cotton beneath your fingertips. Oh God. It’s happening. “Y/N?” Ali asks again, her voice getting louder when you don’t answer her, “Y/N is everything okay? What happened?”. “Ali” you breathe, your voice shaky as you look from your legs to Kal and back again, your free hand coming around to clutch your belly protectively, “Ali my water just broke, the baby’s coming”.
---
Henry slams the taxi door shut and sprints up the steps towards the hospital, dashing through the doors and coming to a sharp halt at the reception desk. “My wife, she’s in labour. I need to get to her room now. Y/N Cavill” he states quickly, unable to think about anything but you as the nurse at the desk looks back at him, wide eyed and startled. He lets out a loud sigh as he watches the recognition cross her face, not in the mood for a starstruck fan as he taps his foot impatiently. Oh please not now. “Please, I just need the room number” he tries again, running his fingers through his hair exasperated as another nurse steps in to help, “My wife is having our baby. I need to be there”. “Y/N Cavill did you say?” the second nurse asks and Henry nods, practically bouncing on his feet as he watches her type into the computer. “Floor 5, room 36”.
He thanks her as he dashes away from the desk, barely registering the first nurse saying “Do you know who that was?” behind him as he finds the elevator and punches the up button rapidly. Miraculously it opens immediately and jumps in and hits the button for the 5th floor, hurriedly tapping the close doors button as he breathes loudly. Y/N. “I’m almost there baby” he whispers as the doors finally close, running his fingers through his hair again as he looks back at his reflection in the elevator doors.
He’s still in his tux, bow tie and all, his previously styled hair now slightly disheveled from having run his fingers through it so many times. He can’t believe he missed the call - the call that he’d promised to answer if it had happened, angry at himself for letting Mel, his assistant take his phone while he’d posed for photos. “Just a few pictures Henry. It will only take a minute or two” she’d said, taking his phone and instructing him to stand in front of the sea of cameras. That minute, as it turned out, had turned into several, photos quickly becoming questions and questions quickly becoming interviews. He’d turned to Mel after his second interview with a reporter whose publication he couldn’t even remember, her face pale and her eyes wide as she’d put her hand on his arm in guilt. “Henry, it’s Y/N. She’s in labour. She’s having the baby”. Four words, four little words that had sent him spiralling into a panic, disappearing from the awards night like smoke as he’d hailed down a cab and high tailed it to the hospital.
The elevator dings as the doors opens in front of him, Henry reading the sign in front and dashing down the hallway to room 36. He can hear you yelling before he even reaches the door, his heart panging with guilt for not being there with you when it happened. Oh Y/N, my beautiful girl. He pushes through the door and instantly his eyes fall to you, your eyes wide and panicked as you lay on your back on the hospital bed, Ali beside you and holding your hand as you brace yourself for a coming contraction.
“Henry!” you breathe, your voice sounding almost defeated at the sight of him, his heart hammering at the sound,”Oh you’re here”. “I’m so sorry sweetheart” Henry gasps as he rushes towards you, bending to kiss your forehead and holding your free hand in his, “I’m so so sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have left you at home alone”. You open your mouth to respond but quickly close it as a contraction hits you, Henry feeling his heart break in his chest as he watches your face contort in pain. “It’s---it’s okay, Henry” you manage to say between breaths, letting out a heavy exhale of relief when the contraction settles several seconds later, “How were you supposed to know today would be the day? Luckily, I was on the phone to Ali when it happened and she came a few minutes later to bring me here”.
Henry looks up at Ali for the first time properly since he’d arrived, letting go of your hand to walk around the bed and pull her into an embrace. “Oh Ali, thank you so much. I can’t thank you enough for being there for Y/N”. Ali smiles as he pulls away, patting his arm reassuringly. “It’s no trouble at all Henry, I’m just glad you’re here now”. He turns back to you and feels his face soften at the sight of you, you, his angel, his perfect girl, your face red and flushed as you breathe heavily on the bed. He can’t believe this is it, that it’s finally happening, the thing he’d been waiting for, dreaming about for the longest time. A child, his baby, your baby. A family. A family just like he’d always wanted.
“You didn’t send me a photo” you say to Henry as he drags a chair over to the side of the bed, smiling gently at you as he sits and takes your hand in his. “I know, I’m sorry” he replies softly, reaching over to tuck one side of your hair behind your ear before leaning back to kiss your hand. He smiles when you pout adorably. “The only reason I’m forgiving you is because you’re here now and I get to see the real thing in person” you reply with a soft smile that makes Henry melt inside, thinking once again just how beautiful you are as he looks at you, “And yes I really do love when you wear a tu---”. Your voice trails off when a fresh contraction hits you like a tidal wave, your face screwed up in pain as you grip Henry’s hand to manage your way through it. A loud whimper escapes your lips and Henry feels his stomach knot, feeling utterly helpless as he watches you brace your way through the pain. He can’t stand seeing you like this - he can’t even stand seeing you cry, and all of a sudden he can’t help but wonder how he’s going to be able to watch you do this without his heart breaking in two. “Breathe Y/N, you’ve got this” Ali encourages, holding your other hand as you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a cry of pain.
“Is this normal? Should we call the doctor?” Henry asks helplessly, looking at you and then over at Ali and back again, “Should we ask for pain relief or something?”. Henry sees you shake your head no as the contraction begins to subside seconds later, your breathing heavy as your grip on his hand loosens. “No” you breathe, the beginnings of sweat starting to form across your brow, “I want to do this naturally”. Henry frowns and looks back at Ali who looks almost as helpless as he does, shrugging her shoulders. “Sweetheart be reasonable”. You shake your head no again, eyes finally fluttering open, looking back at Henry with determined eyes. “No, I can do this. I want to do this” you say quietly, all three of you suddenly turning at the sound of people entering the room.
“Oh good, dad’s here” the tall blonde woman remarks as she walks into the room, pulling on a set of blue rubber gloves, “Mr Cavill I’m Dr Roberts. Pleasure to meet you” she says, smiling warmly at Henry as a nurse moves in to check your vitals. “Please call me Henry” he asks, letting go of your hand and shifting back to give the nurse room. The doctor smiles and turns to look down at you, offering you a reassuring smile. “Now, Y/N. How are we doing? Let’s have a little look shall we? See how things are progressing”.
Henry shrugs off his jacket as he watches the nurse drape a blanket over you, the doctor perching on a stool between your open legs to perform her check. He steps forward when he sees you reaching for his hand again, looking down at you with a reassuring smile as you wrap your fingers in his. “Okay, we’re not quite fully dilated yet but you’re not far off Y/N. You’re doing a great job honey. How’s your pain?”. You don’t have time to respond before another contraction is hitting you, Henry clutching your hand in both of his as he watches in dismay as you bear through the pain. He swallows thickly, fighting the urge to hold back an audible wince. Oh Y/N, my darling girl. “Breathe Y/N, in and out, that’s the way” the doctor encourages, Henry not taking his eyes off of you as you grit your teeth and let out an agonising groan. He wishes he could do something, anything, to help you through it, do something, anything to lessen the pain.
“Still a while apart” Dr Roberts notes to the nurse before turning to face you. “Are you wanting an epidural Y/N? Because if so, you need to say so right now” the doctor asks you when you finally open your eyes again, Henry chewing on the inside of his cheek when you shake your head no. “Are you sure?” the doctor asks again, giving you another chance to say yes, “There’s no shame in getting one honey, it’s still going to be you pushing, it just won’t hurt quite as much”. Henry can’t help but smile down at you when you still shake your head no, you, his stubborn, brave little angel, a warrior if he’d ever seen one. The doctor smiles warmly, nodding to the nurse beside her. “Okay, we’ll be back soon to check in on you again Y/N. You’re doing great love, just keep going”. She smiles at you and turns to Ali and Henry to offer the same, exiting the room and leaving the three of you alone again.
“You’re doing great sweetheart” Henry says, bending to kiss your knuckles and smiling gently, “I’m so proud of you”. You smile weakly at him and let out a sigh, reaching down to touch your belly. “Come on little one” you say in a gentle voice that makes Henry smile, “It’s time for you to come out now”. Henry rubs his thumb over your knuckles and reaches out to put his hand over yours on your belly, unable to help his smile as he looks up at your tired face. He knows that you’re not even halfway there - that the hardest part is still to come, his heart breaking just that little bit more when he thinks about how tough it’s going to be for you. He opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by another crashing contraction, this time a cry falling from your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and grip harder on his hand.
Several forehead kisses, words of encouragement from both he and Ali, and crippling contractions later, Dr Roberts returns for another check and announces that it’s time. It’s then that Henry feels like the entire world has slowed down around him, eyes only for you, his wife, his love, watching as you get ready for the biggest battle of your life. Your eyes meet his, wide and panicked and he knows you’re terrified, yet he can’t ignore the shine of determination he sees when you tighten your fingers around his and hold on for dear life.
He watches as you squeeze your eyes shut and bear down as you’re told, a yell of pain falling from your lips as your body performs it’s first push. It’s then that the first tears fall from your eyes, a stab of pain hitting Henry’s chest as he watches you push with every ounce of energy you have. He feels his own eyes well up as he watches you in front of him, unaware of anything else around him except you. He has both of his hands clasped around yours at this point, whispering words of encouragement and telling you how much he loves you as you push and push and push. A tear falls down his face when you let out another excruciating scream, your face flushed, sweaty and contorted in pain as you drop your head back into the pillow. You’re sobbing now, chest heavy with huge, body shaking sobs, your hand in Henry’s tighter than ever.
He can hear Ali’s voice telling you to keep going, the nurse and Dr Roberts telling you to push, though it’s all a muffled blur in his mind. All he can hear is your cries, the noise making his bones shake and his blood curl, his hands holding yours as he watches you turn to him. For a moment he feels panic, the defeated, exhausted look on your face telling him that you’re done, your eyes meeting his in a gaze that shares all emotions. He knows you’re exhausted, he knows you’re hurting, but you can do this. You, the love of his life, his warrior, his angel, the strongest woman he’s ever known. You can do this.
Henry stands and bends to press his lips to your sweaty forehead, his hand still in yours as he whispers that he loves you with his whole heart and that you’re his entire world. He knows that you’ve got this, that you can do this, that you’ve come this far and you’re almost there. He looks down to see your wide eyes looking back at him, huge and terrified yet strong and determined, the tears slipping down your face as you look back at each other with nothing but love and adoration.
He watches as you suck in a breath and lift your head once again, squeezing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth as you get ready to push again. He’s in awe as he watches you, his wife, his goddess, bearing down with every push and using every single ounce of strength and energy you have to push through it all. Cry after cry leaves your lips and the tears continue to slip down your cheeks, your hands never leaving his or Ali’s as you give it everything you have. After what seems like hours Henry hears the doctor’s voice behind him, his eyes never leaving yours when he hears her say that you’re close, that you’re almost there, that you’ve almost done it. He grips your hand and bends so that he’s near your face once again, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you sob and cry and squeeze your eyes shut for the final time. He holds your hand in his and bends to kiss your forehead, telling you once again just how much he loves you and just how proud he is of you, his wife, his superwoman. The love of his life, his everything, his whole, entire world.
All of a sudden the world is silent. Silent, except for the high pitched cry of a baby being brought into the world for the very first time. Silent, except for the sound of your newborn baby. It’s then that Henry feels the tears slip down his own cheeks, looking down at you beneath him, exhausted, spent and crying as he pushes your wet hair away from your face and kisses you. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now, even with your hair a mess of sweat and tangles, even with your face red and tear stained, and that exact moment Henry knows that it’s a memory he’ll never forget.
“You did it sweetheart" Henry whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead and brushing away your sweaty hair, “You did it”. He smiles gently when you let out an exhausted sob and muster a small, weak smile, the foreign sound of the newborn’s cries suddenly making you both look up. “Henry, Y/N” Dr Roberts exclaims warmly as she passes a swaddled bundle of baby to a smiling Ali, “Congratulations, you have a new baby girl”.
And just like that, for the second time in less than a few hours, Henry’s entire world stops. Everything around him is a slow moving blur, his vision tunneled as it focuses only on the bundle in Ali’s arms. “Congratulations guys, she’s absolutely gorgeous” Ali whispers as she passes the baby to him, Henry watching wide eyed and wordless as he holds his child for the very first time. She’s completely perfect, rosy cheeked and adorable, tiny hands making fists as her face screws up at the new world around her. He’s never seen anything quite like her, the sight unlike anything he’s ever set his eyes on, his heart thumping in his chest in a way that he’s never felt before. Henry chokes back a sob as he holds her, her body tiny and fragile in his muscled arms, his eyes welling up with happy tears as he looks down at his precious baby girl.
He bends and passes her to you, your face instantly collapsing into tears when you see her, your entire face crumpling with happy sobs as you take your daughter in your arms. Henry sits by the bed and looks down at his two girls, unable to speak as he takes in the sight in front of him. His heart thumps in his chest and he feels an overwhelming sense of warmth flood through him, feeling nothing but pure and utter love as he looks down at her in your arms. His baby, his child, his baby girl. He can’t believe he has a daughter, a tiny little princess, an angel just like her mother.
His two perfect angels, his two beautiful girls, the two things in his life that have suddenly become his everything. He can’t help the tears that slip down his face as he watches you hold her against your chest, reaching out to caress her tiny cheek before wrapping your fingers in his. “Henry she’s perfect” you whisper in the softest of voices, eyes filled with love as you look down at your new baby girl. Henry smiles, “You both are, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you darling”. You flash Henry a loving smile and he squeezes your hand in his, the two of you looking up when you hear the snap of Ali’s phone camera. She smiles down at the three of you, her eyes threatening tears, the smile on her face growing even bigger when you motion for her to come towards you.
“Thank you Ali, for everything” you say softly, kissing Ali’s cheek when she bends to hug you and the baby, “You’re the most perfect best friend that a girl could ask for”. Henry watches as you smile lovingly up at Ali - the kind of smile that Henry knows only best friends can communicate through. “Have you decided on a name for her?” Ali asks as she bends to touch the baby’s hand, Henry smiling when she lets out a tiny squeak and wraps her tiny fingers around Ali’s pinky.
The question makes you look at Henry and in an instant he knows exactly what you’re thinking, a decision you’d made together but had chosen not to share with anyone else. You nod at Henry, almost as if you’re giving him permission to say it, Henry feeling his heart swell once again as he looks down at his precious princess cuddled against her mother’s chest. He smiles and squeezes your fingers in his, letting out a breath as he lifts his head to look back up at Ali. “We have actually. Ali, meet Harper Rose”.
---
“Are you ready for this?” Henry asks as you hold a sleeping Harper to your chest, the both of you smiling down at her when she lets out a little cooing sound. “Of course I am. Kal has to meet his baby sister. Besides, I haven’t seen him days and I need to see my boy”. Henry chuckles and puts his key in the front door, the sound of paws against floor boards heard seconds later as Kal comes thundering down the hallway. “Easy Kal” Henry commands as he pushes open the door, an excited Kal bursting through and wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of his two humans.
You step through the door and pass Harper to Henry, dropping to your knees as the rambunctious bear jumps at you happily. “Hey bear!” you exclaim loudly as Kal tries to climb into your lap, his tail wagging a million miles an hour and making Henry laugh. “I missed you big boy!”. Eventually he calms and the four of you make it through to the living room, Kal soon noticing the bundle in Henry’s arms and trying his hardest to inspect her.
“Gentle bear” Henry says sternly as he passes Harper to you, moving to stand behind Kal and holding onto his collar firmly. “You ready?” you ask and Henry nods in response, watching closely as you slowly bend and kneel on the floor with Harper in your arms. Kal strains forward to smell her and Henry tightens his grip on Kal’s collar, allowing him just enough slack to sniff Harper’s feet. “Kal bubba, this is your new baby sister, Harper” you say gently, the sound of his daughter’s name in your voice making Henry smile. It was still so new to him, so foreign, the reality of having a child still not quite sunken into his mind.
Henry relaxes his grip on Kal when he only lays down at your knees, sniffing Harper gingerly as if he knew that she was only a baby. “Good boy bear” Henry praises, reaching forward and patting Kal’s head softly, “Good boy Kal”. “He’s doing so well” you whisper, lowering Harper even more so that Kal can sniff her further, “Look how gentle he’s being”. Henry doesn’t say anything, only smiles as he watches the interaction between the three of you, once again feeling the overwhelming sense of warmth and love that he’d felt the first time he’d seen Harper. You, Y/N, his superwoman, the love of his life. Harper, his tiny little princess, his adorable bundle of joy. And Kal, his mighty hound, the furry bear that had always been by his side. The three of you, together, a new little family.
Henry lets out a silent breath as he watches you pat Kal’s head affectionately, a proud smile on your face as you watch the bear meet his new baby sister. You laugh and look up to meet Henry’s eye, flashing him a gorgeous smile that instantly makes his heart swell and his insides stir. In that exact moment Henry knows that he could never love anything as much as he loves the three of you, realising that for the very first time in his life he finally has what he’s always dreamed of having. You, Harper and Kal, his everything, his whole world, his family.
---
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@alyxkbrl @andyrazzledazzle @an-adventureland @tumblnewby @michelehansel @hamianderson @maia-hocane @straightforwardly @designerwriterchic @xlookalivesunshinex @earth-to-lottie @notyouraveragemochii @crazy4thewinbros @amandacavill @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @wolfyandy @twlohasmp @wondersofdreaming @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @jtargaryen18 @meowpurrbooks @constip8merm8 @peakygroupie @mary-ann84
#Henry Cavill#Henry Cavill fanfic#Henry Cavill x you#Henry Cavill x reader#Kal Cavill#Henry Cavill fluff#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill romance#henry cavill imagine#henry cavill request#henry cavill one shot
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pulchritudinous | midori takamine x gender neautral! reader
because this boy deserves so much appreciation 😩
to put it simply, you are quite the extravagant photographer. always making sure every project of yours turns out to be a masterpiece and giving your fans a spectacular delivery. from posters, to photo cards. from being hired to take pictures of a baby shower or wedding, you can do it all. hence, you take your job very seriously. pleasing your clients is a wonderful feeling but so is being proud of yourself.
“what will it be this time, i wonder?” you ponder to your photography assistant. the younger girl walking ahead of you, hastily going through the documents of your next project. “it’ll be an idol group that calls themselves ryuseitai. a bunch of heroes they claim to be.” she responded. you clapped your hands. a rush wave of giddiness filled you up. “that’s right! that’s right!”
as a fan of idols, (ryuseitai especially) you are delighted to the point where there are stars in your eyes. in fact, you’re charmed by midori takamine out of the bunch. his effort into being an idol catches your eyes. that goes without saying, his pure embarrassment that television catches every once in a while is endearing to you.
“i’ll be checking up on them now. bring over their presents!”
“yes, of course!” thus, your assistance jogged off. you hummed contentedly as you made your way to the dressing room. ID hanging from your neck and work outfit bringing out your most beautiful features.
“i’m here!” you sang as you knocked on the dressing room in your favorite ryuseitai song rhythm. you heard a familiar shriek in the room and that made you enter nonchalantly. perhaps it was the impulse you felt because the shriek had came from your favorite hero.
the dressing room had no one but midori. he seemed a bit frightened, sitting alone in one of the chairs and in front of the large enormous vanity.
“ah! midori takamine!...it’s just you right now?”
“uh ....y-yeah, the others said they wanted to check out the cafeteria of this agency.” he replied. “you must be y/n l/n...i heard so much about you.”
you paused. he had already been dressed up. face with light makeup, ivory clothes complimented him and his precious eyes if somebody were to ask you. oh, he looks even handsomer in person. “uhm.” you gulp. nobody knew why, but you would always like those that aren’t...so eccentric like you. some even kept on telling you that you should be with people of your own kind, whatever that meant.
“...l-l/n?!...what’s wrong..?!” midori kept backing away his upper body as you had gradually leaned in closer and closer to take in his breathtaking features. “my, oh my. you are....” you whispered before standing back up straight and smiling elatedly. “so beautiful! i can’t wake to work with you!”
“huh?...thank you very much?” midori couldn’t respond any other way. to be complimented by a well-known photographer, how exactly is he supposed to react? apart from the rising blush he has on his face, midori could only muster a small smile.
“excuse me. y/n, are you in here?” your assistant’s voice made you perk up all excitedly. “yes! come in, come in!” you opened the door only for her but for the other two staff members following behind her. midori’s eyebrows rose. they’re totally acting like they own this place or something: he thought. he hummed upon seeing five gift boxes being placed on a nearby table.
“i’m sure you already heard of this from the rumors but, my boss has a habit of giving gifts for their clients.” your assistant explained plainly. she smiled reassuringly at midori, who seemed a bit confused. “they have done research on you the most, takamine.” her words made him feel flattered. he had thought that y/n would be more interested in his boisterous leader, or the true oddball of the bunch, kanata but instead, you’re telling him he catches your eye the most? impossible.
“okayyy. out you go. thank you for the help! appreciate it lots!” you passive aggressively told your assistant and the staff members, lightly shooing them off. all things considered, it’d be so embarrassing for midori to figure out the fact you’re intrigued in him. your assistant chuckled. “alright. we’re going. this way, you two.” she led the staff members down the hallway. you close the door hastily.
“okay, why don’t you try opening your gift? i’d love to see your reaction.” you suggest. since he is the only one here, you’d like to take advantage of the situation. the more you can know about midori, after all. “you didn’t have buy us gifts.” he scratched his cheek sheepishly. his breath hitched when you slammed your hands on the table that held the presents.
“nonsense. this is my way of showing my adoration for you boys. you see, i’m a huge fan of ryuseitai just like my little cousin. he was actually the one who introduced me to your music one late night.” you shortly elucidated. proudly, in fact. midori didn’t feel like he was cut out to deal with this type of person. “re-really? i didn’t see that coming but thank-” “of course! now, open up! here, this one is yours.” you slid the fern box to him. he sighed, a little annoyed that you cut him off before he could thank you.
although, when he opened the box. his eyes lit up and his mouth opened into a large grin. “oh wow!” he picked up the plushie of what seemed to be a hybrid between a cat, dog or maybe a raccoon. whatever it was, he already has an attachment to it. he lifted it up into the air to admire the gamboge zigzag patterns and the magenta fabric. it’s cute doe eyes and rosy cheeks are adorable features to it, he didn’t think he has seen anything like this before.
“thank you so much! i’ll treasure this!”
y/n couldn’t see his smile too well. the doll was in the way. “do you like it?” they asked patiently.
“like it? no, no, no!” midori shook his head fervently. “i love it! it’s a pleasure to be working with you, y/n!” he smiled. this smile was more jovial than the others. it felt like your brain stopped working by now.
...
“...right! yes!” you checked your watch, cheeks dusted in a taffy shade. midori is too giddy to have notice as you step back to the door of the dressing room. “well, i- i hope the others love their gifts just as much as you do!” you giggle. midori looked your way with a small frown, holding his new adorable possession close to him. “what? leaving already?”
it was like an arrow of warmth shoot right through your heart when he said that. you giggle nervously once more. “yep, i have to check on the equipment and get my camera ready so excuse me. bye bye, midori!” thats when you ran out the room and shut the door close. midori smiled shyly and looked down at his plushie. perhaps meeting you like this wasn’t so bad as the rumors interpret you to be. in fact, he would like to run into you like this in the future of destiny wants. you started to look cute in his eyes right about now.
#ensemble stars x reader#enstars x reader#ensemble stars#ensemble stars imagines#midori takamine#enstars
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all smiles here (jackie groenen x photographer!reader)
focusing on your new job turns out to be a hundred times harder after seeing the smiley dutch midfielder..
word count: 2343 ish
——
today was the day.
here you were, 22, fresh out of college and about to step foot onto the dutch training pitch for the first time and start your new job.
last night you had spent hours fretting over tiny details, making sure your cameras were charged and ready, your lenses were wiped clean, and that everything was nice and tidy.
you had planned to wake up extra early, making sure you had time to get everything situated and set before practice began.
that was the plan.
that’s.. unfortunately not what happened.
in your excitement, you had forgotten to set an alarm, which led to your current predicament, biking as fast as you can, racing through the dutch streets.
you glance down at your watch, narrowly missing a parked car as you do so.
you arrive at 7:58, just in the nick of time.
seeing that the team was already out stretching, you throw your bike down with a crash and run onto the field.
the crash of your bike hitting the pavement caused a few heads to turn your way, with a certain number 14 taking particular interest in your entrance.
blind to the commotion you caused, you laid your camera bag gently down along the side of the field (amongst the other photographers), then bend over unceremoniously, trying hard to catch your breath.
considering you had biked 5 miles in 10 minutes, you were spent, forgetting all your excitement in the process.
when your heart rate had somewhat slowed, you began setting up your equipment, and quickly the nerves and excitement arose once again.
you picked up your camera and took a photo of the closest player to test lighting (that player being sari van veenendaal), all the while internally screaming that that was the fifa 2019 best goalkeeper while doing so.
disregarding how much of a mess your morning was, the next hour went splendidly.
you managed to get a few shots of miedema with gorgeous lighting, photos that your manager undoubtedly would want to publish later on.
few photos were “unusable” (you were pretty damn good at your craft), and your camera roll was soon flooded with a wide variety of individual and group pictures.
at this point you had almost gotten all the players individually, your task being to get each of them by the end of practice, which was coming up shortly.
you snapped a few pictures of wilms, grinning widely when you see how well they turned out.
scanning quickly through the list of players, you sigh with relief when you realize you only have one more player to take photos of, #14.
you scan the field with your camera quickly and your breath promptly catches in your throat.
jackie was laughing at something daan was saying, her smile gorgeously on display.
you couldn’t help but stare, your hand lowering the camera as you forget the task at hand.
but how could anyone blame you?
she was, without a doubt one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen.
her gaze meets yours suddenly, you let out a squeak of surprise in response and fumble your camera, breaking eye contact as you lunge forward to catch it.
you let out a sigh of relief when you grasp it, cheeks blood red at your actions, the older photographer next to you letting out a chuckle as he shook his head.
“kid you gotta be more careful.”
you nodded and smiled at him kindly, before shaking your head quickly and resuming to the task at hand.
with the ten minutes before the end of practice, you took, in total, one photo of jackie.
this was a disaster.
you just kept getting lost staring at her, this time through the lens of your camera, so starstruck that you forgot to actually take pictures.
you let out a sigh as you began thinking of an excuse for your boss later.
~~
walking into the locker room, jackie rolled her eyes at jill’s words.
“but did you see her jacks? that new camera girl is..” jill letting out a low whistle to finish her statement.
“i mean i’m taken but i have to agree she is pretty cute” daan said, popping into the conversation.
soon whole the locker room began chatting about this “new camera girl”, and jackie couldn’t help but blush.
she had to agree with everyone, you were absolutely adorable, and watching you almost drop your camera upon seeing her only solidified that.
jackie was brought out of her thoughts by jill who, very loudly, pointed at her and said:
“oh. my. god. you like her.”
jackie swatted jill’s hand away.
“shut up no i don’t.”
“oh my god she’s blushing she totally does,” daan squealed.
the locker room was soon buzzing with excitement over jackie’s new crush, filling the air with:
a lot of “omg jackie!”
and
even more “ask her out!!”
with jackie of course very adamantly denying such a proposition.
even through all of the teasing, jackie couldn’t help but hope that she would see you again tomorrow.
~~
you arrived earlier the following day, much much earlier, so much so that no other photographers had arrived yet.
you set your bike nicely against the rack this time, taking your time to admire the nice day as you lay your bag along the edge of the field.
you take a quick look at your watch, 7:17, and upon seeing that no one was around, picked up a soccer ball you found in the corner of the field.
having played a little bit of high school and college soccer, you juggled the ball around a little bit and then attempted to score from midfield.
you hit the ball right into the corner of the net on your second try, jumping up in excitement, when you hear someone speak behind you.
“for a sports photographer, that wasn’t all that bad.”
you turn around abruptly and let out a small squeak of surprise when you’re greeted by the very girl who had enchanted you the day before.
she lets out a dazzling grin before putting out her hand and saying:
“hi i’m jackie.”
“i- uhm y/n” you mumble, eliciting a giggle from the dutch girl before you.
you wipe your palms against your jeans quickly and take her hand, trying to desperately ignore the sparks that shot up your arm from the contact.
an awkward silence followed for the next few seconds, until jackie spoke.
“so, y/n, do you want to kick a ball around with me before people get here?”
“i’m, uh i’m not that good i mean i played a little in high school and college but like just for rec teams and i mean you’re on the national level so like i’m i don’t know i should probably just stick to photography i hope i didn’t offend you i’m just not that great and i yeah.”
you stop your rambling and blush, hoping she can decipher your message through your jumble of words.
jackie just lets out a laugh and your heart melts a little at the sound.
“i can take a few pictures of you though if you’d like?” you offer, hoping to spend a little bit more time with the midfielder.
“i would love that.” jackie says, letting out an even larger smile if possible.
for the next fifteen minutes you took dozens of photos of jackie, all the while learning about her life in manchester and belgium, how she broke a bike on the way to practice once, her dogs, and other snippets of her life.
you honestly couldn’t believe that this girl, this incredibly attractive and funny and just stupidly gorgeous girl was talking to you.
it was 7:50 when the other players arrived, jill letting out a whistle and yell when she saw who was already on the pitch.
“get it jackie!”
the other players cheered as well, letting out wolf whistles when they saw the two of you.
jackie got up but before she left she turned and gave you a hug then saying:
“sorry about them. they’re quite an obnoxious bunch.”
you let out a laugh and the two of you parted ways as practice was about to begin, your heart beating so fast you were afraid it would burst.
~~
“y/n.”
your boss let out a sigh as he took his glasses off.
“why are there 864 photos of jackie groenen in your camera roll?”
“i- i dont know” you stammer.
“this isn’t what i meant when i said you took too little of her yesterday.”
you flushed a deeper shade of red in utter embarrassment.
if your conversation with your boss was any indicator, practice was a disaster.
it wasn’t the players or practice itself.
it was you. your gay mess of a self.
but you just couldn’t help but trail the midfielder for the entire practice, your lens (and eyes) never leaving her.
it was only at the end of practice when you looked through your camera roll when you’d truly realized just how many photos you had taken of her.
each and every page filled with pictures of the number 14, her smile as bright as the day.
in your defense, you had taken quite a few fantastic photos of her, though there was one that was your favorite in particular, with the sun shining at the midfielder at just the right angle, illuminating her eyes and leaving her smile with its signature glow.
and of course that was the photo that caught your boss’s eye, despite his disappointment of today’s “turnout”.
and of course he wanted to publish it immediately.
and of course jackie saw it. and posted it. and tagged you in it.
where did she even get your handle from?
~~
it was sort of an unspoken agreement between the two of you, with both arriving early each practice to spend time with one another.
each time there’s jackie, always smiling and always gorgeous, and each time there’s you, always bumbling and always blushing and always tripping over your words.
and occasionally your feet.
but jackie only saw it as endearing, and continued to talk to you even when you were making a fool out of yourself.
eventually came the time for the netherland’s first matchup against a team, that team being estonia for the euro qualifiers.
you were brimming with the excitement at attending your first match as a photographer, and you arrived extra early match day to set up and get a good spot on the field.
“well if it isn’t my favorite photographer.”
you spun around quickly to spot jackie in her full kit, a blush promptly forming on your cheeks and your heart skipping a beat upon seeing her.
somehow you managed to reply:
“well if it isn’t my favorite player.”
this was your first time saying something that remotely resembled flirting with her, clearly catching the midfielder in surprise, as her face flushed a bright red a second later.
“i’m offended. i thought i was your favorite player.” daan said, appearing behind jackie, who stood frozen.
you rolled your eyes.
“hate to break up the love fest though, but we’ve got a game to play.” daan said, tugging on the arm of an even redder jackie groenen.
after they left, you continued setting up your equipment, checking lighting and just making sure everything was all set and ready for the game to start.
and boy was it a game.
in short,
the netherlands absolutely destroyed estonia.
in a huge 7-0 victory for the netherlands, there were an abundance of great photo opportunities, and you got them all.
goal scoring shots and celebration shots, everything.
you however, did let out two very loud cheers when jackie scored, once in the 26th minute and again when she completed her brace.
you had forgotten how empty the stadium was in your excitement.
each time you shouted the dutch girl, blushed, met your eyes and grinned before being pulled away by a teammate, who said something that sounded a lot like:
“your girlfriend’s here cheering for you.”
but in general,
you had expected the dutch to win.
you had expected daan, jackie, sherida, aniek, and katja to score as much and as well as they did.
you had even expected that you would embarrass yourself in some way during the match.
what you didn’t expect however, was for jackie groenen to come running at you after the match.
you were packing up your equipment when you saw the dutch girl approaching, and you opened your mouth to congratulate her on the brace and win.
but before you could get a word out,
she pulled you in by the camera straps around your neck and kissed you.
you stood, frozen, as if you couldn’t believe what was happening (because you really couldn’t).
jackie had started to realize you weren’t reciprocating and began to pull back when you came to your senses.
you kissed her back, hands moving to her waist to steady the two of you.
it was everything you wanted a first kiss to be, passion fueled and full of sparks, her hands moving from your chest to cup your cheek.
jackie was the one who pulled away first, a smile plastered on her face much like the one that had drawn you to her that very first day at practice.
you pulled her in to kiss her again, forgetting that your camera was still looped in front of your chest, only noticing it when it was in the way of getting her closer to you.
you pull back with an annoyed huff and gently take the camera off, turning to drop it on the bench behind you.
“go out with me sometime” you say when you turn around again.
jackie’s face just splits into a sparkling smile.
“i thought you’d never ask.”
#jackie groenen#jackie groenen x reader#jackie groenen imagine#woso imagine#woso imagines#uswnt imagine#muwfc imagine#nedwnt x reader#uswnt x reader#muwfc x reader#nedwnt imagine
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