#it has not been agony the whole time! as i told him it was surprisingly joyful to fall in love with him. and i would go through it again

[thebirdandhersong]

you guys won't believe this but y'all what a miracle..... God's grace always seems to come in floods when you least expect it. The boy problem is now resolved and at rest (well. somewhat.)

I somehow got around to talking to him yesterday about the disastrous conversation (the one where he went on at length about my age) and, God bless him, it was all ignorance rather than malice. He listened for a while, his face becoming more and more drawn and appalled as I explained how X thing came off, and at one point he just put his head on the table and was very, very upset because he hadn't thought about it from my perspective and hadn't realised the effects of his words. It was a surprisingly comfortable conversation (it is always easy to talk to him), and it was a relief to hear from his lips that he hadn't meant any of it in a hurtful way - he hadn't thought about how his words might sound at all.

[pencil-down-a-paragraph]

you could say it was pretty shocking

Whumptober day 4 prompts “cattle prod” and “shock”

Warnings: Electrocution, vomiting, torture and hostage situations(??), inaccurate depictions of how cattle prods work 😔.

Summary: After locating an artifact, Illinois gets electrocuted by hired thugs who were sent to collect what he found. All you can do is watch.

AO3

...

Crackles of high voltage electricity are nearly drowned out by the sound of Illinois’ ear splitting screams.

You had arrived in the country only that morning, immediately springing into a hunt for a very rare artifact that few others had caught wind of and you had had the privilege of been sent to find by a close curator friend of Illinois’. It had gone well, very well, in fact, that you were almost suspicious, almost took your attention away from the beautiful scenery and the endearing boasts and rambles of your companion to see it should have been more difficult.

Almost.

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. Both of you should have. But you didn’t, and you couldn’t do anything about the men suddenly appearing and rushing you. There’s too many and no room to escape, your jeep mockingly out of reach and engine turned off. It’s easy to guess who your attackers are, fighting with the brutality and gracelessness of cheap black market hired help gives clues you in on them not just being muggers. You couldn’t figure out how someone figured out so quickly that you were on the artifacts trail, the plans were made quietly and kept within your circle.

That’s not on your mind right now, however. It’s a tunnel vision, the world around you fuzzy but sharpening out every time their leader brings the buzzing cattle prod back down on Illinois’ back. the air is thick with the smell of ozone and a burning something that you refuse to think about.

“STOP!” you scream, struggling in vain against the two people holding you in place “LET HIM GO! LET HIM GO!”

The man with the cattle prod laughs uglily as men lift Illinois’ gasping form by his arms

“I will!” He assures. It feels mocking “Give me the necklace and pretty boy goes free.”

Your heart races as he grips the side of Illinois’ face harshly, wrenching it up. Illinois looks at you with pleading eyes, shaking his head as best he can.

You swallow, voice cracking as you answer.

“No.”

The leader sighs, his voice almost chastising as he says “See this? Everything that happens now is your fault.”

He swings the prod into illinois stomach, his men’s rubber gloves keeping themselves from being electrocuted while they hold up your companion.

Hearing Illinois scream and being told to do nothing about it is agony, tears well up in your eyes as your mind races to figure out how to get you both out. Illinois gasps painfully, mouth dropped open as convulsions rip through his body. The prod is removed suddenly when he wretches, the sound of him vomiting has you lurching forward, forgetting about being held back.

“ILLINOIS!”

He can barely catch himself when he’s dropped, arms shaking from the small exertion. His hat falls in front of him, it had impressively stayed on his head the whole time and surprisingly misses the puddle of vomit. Illinois’ wide, frantic eyes flick from it to you, his body heaving with every pant.

It’s too close. Everything is falling apart before your eyes and you can only watch as the leader gets ready to shock Illinois again. Panic crawls up your spine when a whimper involuntarily  leaves Illinois. If you could just give them the necklace—

An idea blinks into your mind and your thoughts grind to a halt. Your tongue darts out to wet your split lip, not tasting the blood by how preoccupied you are by quickly rolling the idea over in your mind.

It could work. You consider grimly. Or you’ll both die.

You hope your friend understands when he finds out.

“Wait, stop!” You cry out. The leader pauses, the cattle prod raised high to strike Illinois “I’ll give it to you, please, just let him go!”

Illinois’ eyes widen, your name whispered hoarsely.

The leader grins.

“Finally! Some cooperation! Remember,” He shoves the end of the prod into the back of Illinois neck making him slump forward, arms nearly giving out. Your stomach drops at the sight. “Try something, he’s dead.”

You’re released from the other mens hold, your shaky fingers reach into the hidden pocket in the inside waistband of your pants. There’s silence, aside from Illinois’ shuddering breaths, where they wait for you to grasp it, the chain falling out between your fingers. They shouldn’t know what the artifact looks like, just that its an old necklace. Afterall, that’s all you two knew.

“Here,” you toss him the medallion. A keepsake stolen for you from your heist partner back when you were still a thief. Under better circumstances it’d be sad to see it go, but you’d rather have Illinois.

Illinois keeps his eyes on you while the leader examines it. You hold your breath, skin buzzing.

Please work, please work, you internally beg

A grin stretches across the leader's face. He stuffs your medallion into his pocket. “Alright, we’ve got what we came for.”

You’re shoved, hard. Pain blooms in your knees at the force they hit the ground. There’s a grunt and a softer thump ahead of you while boots thud in the dirt

“You’re lucky,” the man calls “We were told to keep you alive. But if you try to get up before we’re gone,” there’s a click of a gun “You lose your legs. Got it, sweetheart?”

You grit your teeth, exhaustion washing over you in waves as they leave. You finally look up after you can’t hear them anymore, eyes locking with Illinois’. He’s laying on his side now, bits of dried spit and vomit on his chin. His hat is grasped in one hand, the other tucked against his chest.

He rasps your name, breaths coming in unevenly “Good thin-thinkin’.”

You’re scrambling forward before you can think, dust kicking up around you. Your knees ache as you tumble back down, hands flitting anxiously just out of reach of touching him.

“Illy—” you gasp, letting him weakly take your hand. “Oh my gosh, Illy, I’m so sorry, I should have thought of something sooner—”

He cuts you off with a squeeze of your hand “Did—did fine, partner.” He licks his cracked lips, grimaces “We need to get—…out of here.”

He sounds breathless, lungs rattling. Your heart breaks for him.

“Still have it?” you ask quietly.

He nods tiredly, tapping at the inside band of his hat where the necklace was hidden away earlier. You’re not the only one with little hidden pockets.

You sigh in relief, wanting to sink down in the dirt. But it’s not safe to stay here, Illinois is still injured and your attackers orders could be changed from ‘keep them alive’ to ‘leave no evidence’ at any moment, so you heave yourself up and shake off the aches and pains that you are starting to become aware of.

It’s a chore getting Illinois upright and to the jeep, but you manage, mumbling “I got you”’s as he stumbles, arm slung over your shoulder. As soon as he’s in the car you’re tearing off to the other side, hip slamming into the grill hard enough that you know you’ll be sore there later. Well. More sore than you’ll already be.

Illinois groans quietly in his seat. Your stomach flips.

Not as sore as he’ll be.

The door slams shuts harder than you mean and it takes you a few shaky tries to get the keys in the ignition as the adrenaline continues to fade, but soon you’re speeding off, switching to a different road at Illinois’ instruction.

“We need to get out of the country,” he says hoarsely “Only one other person knew where—” his eyes squeeze shut, a soft grunt leaving him when he shifts stiffly. The pressure of the seat against his back and shirt against his burned skin can’t be comfortable. “Where we were going… What our plan was, the airport we flew in from.”

“Where we’re staying.” You white knuckle the steering wheel “I need to get into our hotel room, we can’t leave all our supplies. Even if they’ve already been there, I doubt they took the med kit.”

Illinois huffs, it almost sounds like an attempt to laugh despite the pain “‘m fine, partner. Takes more than a little shock to get rid of me.”

You blink back tears, trying for a weak smile. You chose not to push, he doesn’t need that right now, but you’re sure you both know you’ll be talking about it later. “Nobody stops the great Illinois Jack, huh?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” He smirks, failing to hide a wince. He keeps his hat clutched in his lap in a tight grip. “This is nothin’, darlin’.”

You let go of the wheel with one hand, wordlessly reaching over his lap to take his trembling hand. Illinois is shaken, which is unsurprising. Aside from the injuries, he’s just put together that a dear friend of his was not so dear afterall. You know Illinois gives his loyalty freely, shining like the sun at the prospect of friendship and community. He thrives on it. 

You briefly wonder how well he knows the term ‘honor among thieves’, if he knows what thieves do to the people who betray them. You wonder how many favors you’re about to cash in.

Oh, well. You’ll find out soon enough.

“I know, Illy.”

[blueprint-han]

bullet to the heart — bang chan.

𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗣: STRAY KIDS; husband!bang chan x fem!intelligence officer!reader

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: fluff, slight hints of angst.

𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧: 2k

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: reader is an intelligence officer, mentions of a gunshot wound, hospitalisation (not very descriptive but it's there), some amounts of kissing and cuddling because i intended it to he a cuddling blurb at first, bad writing since oh my god i've gotten so rusty.

When you open your eyes, you squint at the sudden intrusion of light that you hadn’t seen in days. It felt like someone had plunged you into a void of darkness and then pulled you out months later.

For the first time waking up in days, you feel... tired. Your limbs feel numb, as though they haven’t been moved in days. Knowing the situations you get yourself into, they probably haven’t.

Your eyes widen when you remember your last memory. You’d managed to shoot the intruder who escaped, but he let you feel the last bullet in his gun before he fell to his knees and fainted, after which you spiraled into a darkness that you’ve only managed to pull yourself out of right now.

You sigh to yourself, using your right hand to push away the hairs falling on your face, before trying to get up. Instantly, the very first thing you feel is a strong weight on your left arm, and then, a sharp pain in your shoulder, causing you to hiss in silence as you fall back into the comfortable bed you happen to be situated on. You don’t make a noise, however, because if defense training has taught you anything, it’s controlling your cries of agony even at its worst point.

And boy, this ranks pretty low on the amount of pain you’ve handled in your whole timeline as an intelligence officer.

You shake your head, and glance to see what the heavy weight on your left hand was, only to find tufts of brown hair peeking back at you.

“Chan?” You can’t stop yourself before you exclaim in surprise, clamping a hand over your mouth. Surprisingly, it doesn’t rouse him at all. He’s still having the best sleep of his life on your arm.

Well, that explains why your hand felt numb.

The nurse walks in at that exact moment, carrying a tray of medicine, cotton pads and gauze — possibly to dress the would on your arm. She stands shocked when she sees you awake, and smiles at you sweetly, placing the tray on the side.

“My, you’re awake! Let me go call the doctors right now.”

“Shh, shh wait!” You call, stopping her in her tracks. “I wanna speak to him first.” You point towards your husband.

“Ma’am, it’s protocol, I have to inform them.”

“How long has he been here?” You ask, ignoring her insistence. “And… how long have I been here?”

“Three days, ma’am.” The nurse affirms, walking to your bed to check your vitals. “The gunshot merely brushed your shoulder, but you fainted due to how fatigued you were from the chase. At least, that’s what I heard the doctor say.”

“And as for him…” the nurse trails of, looking sympathetically at your husband. “He’s been with you for those three days. He was really worried. We tried to tell him his presence wasn’t safe in the headquarters, but he wouldn’t budge. Kept insisting he needed to be beside you as soon as we relayed the message that you hadn't woken up.”

You smile to yourself. So typical of Chan to be like this, especially when it comes to you. He’s always been that way, and even more so once you told him the work you do. As much as he knows the dangers of your job, he can’t bear the thought of losing you, nor can you bear the thought of losing him. Less because you’d lose your own life, but more because you’d leave him devastated. And you’d do anything in the world to keep him happy.

“Thank you for your service.” You smile, bowing your head in respect. “Don’t tell the doctors yet.”

“Ma’am—”

“I’ll pretend like I just woke up if they enter, okay? Trust me, I’ve seen worse. I just wanna talk to my husband for a bit.” You giggle, looking towards him. Somehow, this whole conversation has still not woken him up. You bring your free hand to run your fingers through his soft locks of hair, and he stirs, nuzzling further into your hand. It brings some pain to your shoulder, but you don’t pay it attention. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to be with him longer than one night.”

The nurse smiles at you. Your eyes possess a unique, dreamy look in them. Chan isn’t doing anything particularly admirable right now — he infact might be doing the opposite, with how numb your arm feels right now. He must’ve been sleeping on it for at least an hour. You move your fingers around, and can faintly feel his fingers intertwined with your own, which makes your heart flutter. You might be a stern, harsh, brutal officer on the outside, but at your core you’re just a young lady completely head over heels for the love of her life. The smile she sees on you right now isn’t something any officer might’ve seen, ever. So she shakes her head, deciding to excuse herself and give you two some privacy.

You clear your throat, sinking back into the fluffy pillow on your bed. “I know you’re awake, Chan.”

You laugh out at the little “awh, shit” that Chan mumbles before getting up, and sigh as the numbness slowly disappears. He wipes his eyes too, and even though he “hypothetically” woke up from a nap, he clearly hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep. It’s not surprising for he does that often, but he somehow looks worse than usual.

“Did you just sleep on my hand all this while to try and wake me up from the lack of blood supply?” You chortle, stretching your left hand out and yawning. You’re extremely tired, yet seeing the little grin on Chan’s face makes you forget about everything.

“No…” Chan giggles, running his hands through his hair before stretching from his cramped position. “I was asleep all this while, till the nurse came in.”

You hum in response before mindlessly taking his hand in yours to place a kiss on his knuckles, before resting your cheek against it. It’s completely out of control — the acts of affection are all too natural at this point, and have only been fueled more due to how many nights you’ve spent at the headquarters. Away, from him, to be exact.

“You get shot in the shoulder, bruised in a fight and still have the capacity to make romantic gestures towards me.” Chan points out, shaking his head in amusement. “What am I gonna do with you, Y/N.”

“You like that about me.” You hum again, tugging on his hand to get his attention. “Cuddle me now, I’m hurt and in desperate need of TLC.”

“And why do you think you deserve that for traumatizing your poor husband three days straight?” Chan raises an eyebrow, keeping a smug look on his face. He doesn’t actually think you don’t deserve it, he’d be stupid to think that. You’re too selfless, too kind, too endearing, and every other compliment that could ever be written for that. Chan’s the kind of fellow who’d reach out and pluck every single star from the sky if you asked for it. If it made you happy.

You pout. “I deserve it because you came here and stayed despite me and all the other officials telling you it was dangerous.”

It’s Chan who pouts back at you now. “But I—”

“No buts, Chan. You know just how much harm could be caused if—”

Chan interrupts you from finishing that sentence, standing up and pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s something unexpected, yet you don’t react at all, and smile into the kiss.

“You can’t just kiss me quiet every time I try to point out how dangerous—”

Chan giggles and kisses you again, taking your uninjured hand in his and placing it on his cheek. He pulls away and nuzzles into it, turning to the side to brush his lips against the palm of your hand. You both stare dizzily into each others eyes, and Chan breaks the contact only for a moment to squeeze himself next to you, making sure he doesn’t accidentally push you. He circles an arm around your shoulder and you rest your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing in fatigue and pain that your body feels at that very moment.

“Okay, but seriously, Chan.” You look at him, and see a whole universe of stars in his eyes. Ignoring just how close you are right now, you consider focusing on just how attractive he looks at the moment. His warm brown eyes, pale skin flushed at his cheeks — telling you that he was equally flustered, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feeling of his gentle fingers running through your hair. You’d have fallen asleep if you hadn’t already for the past three days. “You should’ve waited at home.”

“I know.” Chan sighs, pulling you, ever so gently, close to himself. “I really tried to, I promise. But I couldn’t. Could you blame me? How could I sit there when somewhere, my wife had near escaped being shot in the heart. Once they told me you hadn’t woken up yet, I couldn’t bear staying there.” Your husband’s voice is meek and gentle. As though he doesn’t want to hurt you with his words. As though you’re mad at him, but he knows better than you that you endeared him too much to be so.

You smile to yourself, leaning up to kiss him. However, at your silence, Chan whispers an “I’m sorry.” once you pull away.

You take his hand in yours, playing with his fingers as you try to formulate your response. “I should be sorry. I was the one who asked you to marry me, despite knowing the dangers it would entail.”

“You mean you regret asking me?”

You give Chan a genuine look as you speak your next words with the most confident voice. “Never. I’d kill everyone in my path if they dare lay a finger on you. I swore to protect you when we got married, Chan, and I stand by it. I’d put my own life on line to save yours, but never regret that I asked you to be mine.”

You can see the faintest, faintest sight of tears welling up in Chan’s eyes, but they’re gone when you blink. “Don’t say that.” He rests his chin on your head, and you close your eyes. “I’d be devastated if you left me. If you really wanna go, take me with you. We either survive together, or don’t survive at all.”

“I’d never be able to do that, Chan. You deserve so much better than being tied down to a wife who can’t even make time and constantly possesses a threat to you.”

Chan cups your cheek, wiping off the tear that runs down it. You don’t know how he sensed that you’re tearing up, especially since your face is hidden, but that only makes the moment more intimate than before.

“And you deserve so much better than this husband who can do nothing but sit at home and worry whether his wife would come back home that day. He wishes he could be of some help, but all he can do is message and call.”

“You do more than anyone would, Chan.” If only it weren’t for your shoulder, you would’ve hugged him even tighter. If it weren’t for your shoulder, you’d have cupped his cheeks with both your hands and told him just how much you mean to him.

“You’re worth everything I fight for. I’d take a bullet to the heart any day if it meant I’d get to stay with you forever and keep you happy.”

“Sweetheart, this was supposed to be me comforting you, not the other way round.” You can sense Chan’s really trying to control his tears. “I love you so much.”

“And I do too.” You look up to him, closing your eyes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “You mean more than the world to me.”

And at that moment, Chan really feels like he does. He feels like the whole world only consists of you and him, that everything and everyone around him is a far, distant memory. At that moment, he realises that no matter how much he’d have to see you injured, you promised to keep him safe and not leave him.

And Chan would happily take a bullet to his heart too, if it meant you’d stay with him forever.

𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: Got this inspo whilst watching beast and sooryavanshi back to back. I liked the first one but was eh, about the second. Really wanna write a full fic for this someday tbhh. Anywho please leave feedback if you like it. ♡

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.19

The True Heir

03/09/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,781

Warnings: angst, depression, pregnancy, marital troubles, pining

A/N: There is very little editing. Forgive me. I’m sleepy. I’ve been up writing all night. I’ve also been hurting, but it’s all good! I’m so happy to get this chapter out. *insert evil laugh* If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work! it truly means so much, more than you know. xoxo

Sunday

Today you do nothing.

You’d opened up your laptop last night and attempted to scribble a few lines for your next book, but all you could think about was Thor, Jane, the babies to come, and where exactly you fit amongst all of it.

After typing Thor’s name along with a few other random words for the tenth time, you gave up and shut the laptop. You’d crawled into bed, bundled up under your fluffy comforter, and bid goodbye to the world as you caved in to unconsciousness.

The fact that morning is here, you find that your hope for today to be better than  yesterday was silly. How can anything ever be good again?

You place your hands on your lower tummy, caressing what feels like a very slight swell. It’s just barely harder than the rest of your stomach. Firm. Despite the happiness that your baby brings you, you stare across the room at your computer and can’t find it in you to get up and work.

Instead you roll over onto your other side and pull Thor’s--that is to say, the one he’d used while he was here--pillow over to cling to.

Thor’s texts are also still fresh in your mind.

Sleep didn’t dull their effect on you or the confusion they raised.

Did they mean that he wouldn’t get an annulment? That’s sorta what you were getting from them. His declarations that he couldn’t live without you and that he would die for you and that he missed you so much at his side sounded like he was also telling himself how he felt. As if he were, not so much convincing, but reaffirming what he already knew.

You reach over and switch your phone on, clicking through to your messages to find that Thor must have stolen his phone back from Loki at some point.

Thor: Good morning, my cherub. I hope you slept well.

Thor: I could hardly sleep with you absent beside me.

Thor: Our bed is too big without you in it.

Thor: Have you seen the doctor yet? You’ll text me as soon as you get a diagnosis, won’t you? I’ll be waiting.

Thor: Loki insists that I give you some distance to rest but being apart from you is torture.

Thor: Would you be very angry with me if I came to see you?

Thor: I have some things I must deal with here before I can go though. Loki is right. I should allow you rest and fix things here before I come to you.

Thor: Are you still sleeping, cherub? I’m sorry if my messages are disturbing you. I haven’t gone this long without talking to you since...I wish I’d met you years ago. When things weren’t so complicated.

Thor: Would you have let me court you even though I am the God of Thunder? Future King of Asgard? Would you have married me when I came back with my people to live here on Earth?

Thor: I think if I had to choose all over again, you’re still the only woman equal to the task of being my Queen.

Thor: And the love that has grown between us is...I will never take it for granted…

As you read that last message, you assume he wants to say he won’t take it for granted again. He’s already let it slip through his fingers, although he doesn’t know it yet.

Thor: Perhaps this can be that break you were talking of. For our baby? Maybe we do need a little bit of relaxation to let our bodies recover?

Thor: And yet, I can’t wait to start a family with you, cherub.

You’re bawling all over again, your eyes flooding with tears as you bury your face into his pillow and sob loudly.

He’d said that he missed your body next to his. You can relate. You want to feel the heavy fall of his chest, the deep breaths that fill his lungs and escape through his lips in a quiet little snore that always makes you cuddle into his side.

Normally, he’d respond by turning to face you and holding you right up against his chest.

The comfort that simple thing would give you right now when your heart is aching so painfully is what you so desperately need. But...you’re so angry too. You don’t want him near you.

The images that flood your mind are torture. Mixtures of pleasant, happy moments now marred by the betrayal and anger that has taken hold of your heart.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream until your throat really does go hoarse. Frustration at the force of change you’ve had to make in the past twenty-four hours.

You’re startled back to the present when your phone rings. You make a small attempt  to clear your throat then answer and the absolute gravel voice you use settles any wondering as to whether your illness is real.

“Hello?” you whisper, clearing your throat to no avail.

“Oh, cherub, you sound terrible.”

Your heart panics. How are you supposed to talk to him?

You don’t want to talk to him.

“I can’t really talk,” you say weakly hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Did the doctor see you already?” Thor asks, his worry evident in the quiet tone of his voice.

“Yes, he gave me some medicine and told me to try not to talk,” you lie, surprisingly easy right now since you don’t want to talk.

For your emotional sanity, you need to hang up soon.

“I’m so sorry, love. I wish I could take this illness from you. Where’s David? I’d like to talk to him.”

You panic again, floundering as you cough and clear your throat to buy some time.

“He’s not here. He went to the store to get some groceries,” you hope he buys it.

“I’ll call him a little later then. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks, Thor,” you mumble, suddenly not wanting to hang up.

How can one person give you so much ease and worry all at once? How can he be your source of agony and comfort at the same time? It’s not fair.

“I have so much to tell you, but...now is not the right time. You need to get better first.”

Nevermind! Fuck this guy. Your heart sinks.

“I have to go,” you tell him, hoping he’ll just hang up and leave you be now.

“Very well. I love you, cherub.”

How do you answer him without giving anything away just yet?

“Me too,” you choose. And it’s true.

Even if he’s torn your heart into pieces, he’s still the father of your baby and you still love him.

Whatever madness overcame him when he’d suggested to Loki getting an annulment was the best course of action seems to have passed. Loki must be right about him.

“Bye, Thor,” you whimper.

“Bye, Y/N,” he says your name, making your heart quake a bit.

You hang up and quickly dial up David.

He answers after two rings.

“Hello? How is my favorite girl in the whole wide world?”

He sounds amused by something, or just happy. It’s such a difference to how you feel at the moment that it breaks you and you sob again, renewing your tears.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” David demands, clearly now beginning to fret over the way you sound.

You tell him everything. Somehow you manage to get it all out minus one important detail and when you’re done recounting the most horrible night of your life, David sighs heavily and you can almost picture him settling into a deep armchair with massive worry weighing on his shoulders.

“Well, the good thing is, if he goes through with an annulment, you’re to be given a monthly allowance for the rest of your life. It was a condition in your contract, should Thor change his mind about marrying you. But he didn’t so it was moot, until now. You will be a very rich woman. More so than the small fortune you originally inherited.

“I know that money is hardly a consolation for the man that you love-” David sighs again. “Perhaps he said it in madness? He must have been very upset. Caught by surprise?” David offers.

“Even if he doesn’t mean it or doesn’t go through with it, I know that for you the point is the thought was there.

“However, I do think we must make allowances for Thor. I’m sorry to say. He is a king and he’s responsible for his entire people. A baby would give them security. Stability. A legitimate heir would tie them to Earth forever.

“We musn’t make light of his choices. This isn’t a common situation to find one’s self in. For either of you.”

“David, I’m pregnant.” You finally explain, knowing that it will maybe just show him a little bit more of what you’re facing. “I went to tell Thor and that’s when I overheard them.”

For a moment he’s speechless. When he speaks again, his voice is heightened.

“Congratulations! I-I knew it would happen eventually. The timing is a little-”

“I haven’t told him yet, clearly.”

Silence again. “Why?”

“I don’t know. I was so happy when I went to tell him and then I heard their conversation and I-I just can’t find the strength to do it right now. Not until I know whether he wants the annulment.”

David breathes in deeply and then exhales slowly into the phone. His breath is light and soft.

“You’re afraid that he will only stay with you because of the child,” a statement.

David knows you better than anyone else in your life. It’s not surprising that he’d make the leap so quickly.

“He’s willing to leave me and marry Jane because of her baby. It’s possible that he’ll stay by my side only because of our baby and I’d rather he do what’s best for our people than to stay with me because of a sense of obligation.”

“It could be that Jane will not want him. She might keep her child away from the Asgardian royal court. Didn’t she refuse to marry him because she didn’t want to be Queen?” David’s voice is pensive. “This might all feel much larger than it is. I suggest you take some time to really think through your actions before making any decisions.”

“I’m not going to never tell him, David. He’s the father of my child. He has to know that he has two and not just the one. I don’t think I could do that to him. I could never keep him from his children.

“Either of them.”

“You are magnanimous, Y/N. More than even I thought you were capable of.”

“Bullshit. I ran away and am refusing to see him until I get my week of space,” you nod firmly. “But David-?”

“Tell me,” he urges you, recognizing your tone of anguish.

“I-I know that I accepted this marriage hesitantly. It wasn’t like I asked for it and you know how I felt before Thor asked me to marry him. You know how s-scared I was about marrying someone who was in love with someone else, and now...now he’s-”

“He’s married to you, Y/N. Not Ms. Foster. And from what I have been able to see, he does love you. Not Jane. This is a temporary setback. If you’re angry at him, be angry at him. Don’t pretend you aren’t. If you’re hurt, show it. Wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Loving someone is one of life’s greatest blessings. Sometimes that love doesn’t last, sometimes it takes a beating. But you must choose whether your love is worth fighting for.

“You’ve also got obligations that you cannot escape from. Duties to your people as their Queen.”

“Assuming Thor doesn’t leave me and take my crown,” you scoff.

“I’m with your brother-in-law. I don’t think it will come to that. I think Thor was a little shocked and thrown by Ms. Foster’s news. Now that he has had some time to think, I believe he’ll do right by you and when you tell him, your child.”

“I won’t tell him until he makes up his mind,” you insist.

“That is your prerogative. Do what you need to. What can I do to help? What do you need from me?”

“Just be prepared for any eventuality. I’m not sure what’s going to happen at the end of this week. Oh, and if Thor calls you--just make something up and tell me what you say. He thinks you drove me from the airport and have been staying with me.”

“Using me as your alibi so that your husband won’t come looking for you,” David clicks his tongue. “How much detail shall I give him?”

“You’ve got a job too, just tell him you’re coming and going. Tony had his staff install some security on the house after the honeymoon. I’m safe here. He’ll believe that I’m safe if that’s all you say.

“Anyway, I need to go. I have two more calls to make before I can relax and enjoy my break from the throne.”

“If you need anything, you know how to reach me. Anything, Y/N. I mean it.”

“Thanks, David. I can always count on you,” you smile.

Just a tiny one. A very subtle curve at the corners of your lips.

“Well, you do pay me,” he jokes, which actually pulls a small laugh from you.

“Right. Bye, David.”

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

You take only a minute to think about your conversation with David before you make the most important calls of your week in solitude.

The first one is simple. Just a reminder of doctor-patient confidentiality. He understands what you’re saying even if he doesn’t practice by that mentality.

Dr. Wilson’s phone call is more difficult. She wants an explanation. She wants to know why she’s not allowed to tell your husband, the King of New Asgard, that he’s finally got what you and he have been wanting.

An heir!

It’s painful to talk about but you tell her what’s happened. You tell her that Thor doesn’t know that you know about Jane’s baby.

She’s very quiet as you talk. She assumes things and you can hear her anger when she starts to ask for what she can tell Thor.

“He didn’t cheat on me, Dr. Wilson,” you explain, hoping that this will ease her anger.

You’re angry at Thor because of the annulment, not because he and Jane have created a life from their love. You’re hurt because he’s willing or was willing--you’re not sure yet--to leave you to be with Jane, even if not for love but for the baby growing within her.

You’re hurt because the man you love was choosing his duty over his feelings for you.

Even though you know that he’s right to do it. Even though you know that you should understand because he’s King and you also took an oath to put the people of New Asgard first.

It’s your duty to put their well-being before your own. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

In Thor’s mind, his only duty is to his child. Jane’s child. He doesn’t know you’re carrying one of your own yet. Even though that would probably make sure that he stays with you because of the baby, you don’t want that to be the reason he stays.

Proud fool.

“Thor slept with Jane the same night he proposed to me. This was before we loved each other, when leaving Jane was the hardest thing he’d had to do. I don’t hold that against him.”

You don’t tell her about the annulment. She doesn’t need to know how messy this all is.

“He’ll probably call for you and Dr. Alric soon. Loki suggested they get Jane checked so act surprised? But please don’t tell him I’m pregnant. Not yet. He’s coming to see me at the end of the week and I’ll tell him myself then. Please?” And it really is a genuine plea.

“I’ll do whatever you need, Your Majesty. I would like to come and check on you. You don’t sound well.”

She’s very sweet and her concern is touching.

“Thor will probably send you to me eventually. He’s worried but he’s clearly got other things on his mind.”

“I’ll make arrangements to head over there tomorrow. Oh, can you hold for one minute Your Majesty? I’m so sorry.”

“Of course.”

There’s silence on the phone for a few minutes before she comes back.

“It was His Majesty. He’s told me about Jane but she’s not available for an examination until later in the week. So, he’s asked me to come to you first. I’ll be there tonight.”

For some reason, the idea of having her with you eases some of the stress you’ve been carrying with you since yesterday.

“I’ll call and have a car sent for you.”

“Actually, His Majesty has promised to bring me straight to you via bifrost.”

“Wait, what?” You sit up in bed, clutching your blanket to your chest as your nerves suddenly fray and panic begins to build up within you.

“Should I come by plane?” She asks, worried by the sound of your voice.

You can’t see Thor. No. You can’t.

“No. I’ll just be going out later tonight to pick up a few things that I need here at the house. Toilet paper, napkins, laundry soap. I just didn’t want you to get here when I was out, but I’ll text you the passcode to get in.”

You’ll just have to make sure that you’re not at home when they come. That’s what you’ll do. This is a perfect excuse to be out since you need to get the stuff you listed anyway.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t just like me to come by plane?”

“No, really. The sooner you get here, the better. The car ride is so long from the airport. I’ll see you tonight, Dr. Wilson.”

“Bye, Your Majesty.”

Even though you know that you have hours upon hours until Thor brings Dr. Wilson here, you force yourself out of bed and abandon your plans to wallow in your feelings so that you can shower, get dressed, and leave the house.

If Thor’s coming, you’re going to be as far away from your house as you can be. You’re not ready to see him again just yet. You only have small errands to run but you’re gonna stay out all damn day if it’s the last thing you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

Thor is at a loss. Completely and utterly lost without you.

If he was ever in doubt as to how he really felt about you--which he never has been because he knows himself well enough to know better--he knows now that you are the light of his new life here on Earth.

His reign would mean significantly less without you at his side.

Even though the time you’ve spent together has been a short few months, they have been the best months of his life.

If he’d had one of those other women he’d interviewed become his Queen, this life he’s chosen to lead would have felt empty and tedious. Instead of watching his Queen spend her time with his people leading the way in progress.

You’re so eager to be part of the Asgardian populace. They’ve embraced you so fully.

With a sigh, Thor leans forward and buries his face into his hands as he mentally trashes himself for the absolute fool that he’s been about this entire situation.

The fact that he’d even entertained the thought of leaving you.

He wants to cry and tear his hair out in frustration.

Should he tell you that the thought was weighed along with many others at Jane’s news?

And Jane.

Thor groans.

She’s been avoiding him since she told him. He can’t exactly blame her for it. He hadn’t exactly taken the news well.

He had no reason to expect her to be receptive to him after he’d basically accused her of being confused about it. She knew her own body. If she said she was pregnant, what reason would he have to doubt her?

He’s messed everything up so much and he’s terrified to tell you about Jane.

What if you have the same idea he did? What if you decide to leave him in some foolish attempt to have him marry her and legitimize his future child?

It’s something you would do. Sacrifice yourself so that he could do the right thing.

The thought of living this life of rule without you at his side is unbearable.

With another frustrated groan, he gets up and moves to pace the length of the room, ignoring the large pile of paperwork on his desk as his mind moves in circles.

It always comes back to you.

And then you’d been out when he’d gone to drop off Dr. Wilson. He hadn’t expected you to be gone. He’d wanted to see you. To hold you. Touch you. Hear your voice after so much turmoil.

You are his only solace.

Going so close to you and not seeing you has left him with a terrible pain in his chest.

His phone rings.

Thor dives for his phone and fumbles with it as he grabs it off the bed. He almost loses it over the opposite edge.

He literally throws himself towards it and lands with a grunt onto the bed as he catches it.

He presses the button on the screen without looking to see who it is because he only wants it to be you.

“Cherub?” he gasps, his voice an octave higher than normal with the little bit of exertion he just underwent.

“Oh, no. Sorry, Your Majesty, it’s Dr. Wilson. I was just calling to give you your daily report on Her Majesty’s health.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I just haven’t heard from-” He clears his throat, sits up, and slides to the edge of the bed. “No matter. How is my Queen, doctor?”

“She was asleep. But just woke up. She’s very tired. Her throat is better, but she’s had a fever every morning since Sunday.”

Thor sits up straighter, hand clenched into a fist around the edge of the bed as his heart starts to thrum loudly.

“Is she seriously ill?”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty. But she really does need rest. She has been under severe stress and I’m sorry to say that your constant messages are not letting her rest.”

Thor’s heart drops and buries itself into a hole at the bottom of his stomach. He feels numb suddenly, fearful of what he might be doing to you. The guilt of what he knows he must tell you soon also weighs down on him.

“Are you saying that I should leave her be until she is recovered?” Thor checks, just in case he’s not understanding correctly.

“I’m saying that if you want her to get well quickly, you must give her what she asked you for. She needs rest.”

Thor hates that he can’t be there to check on you. He wants to feel you close. He wants to see you. What if you’re deathly ill and you’re telling Dr. Wilson to lie for you?

You abhor lies and cherish honesty , but he can see you lying in order to spare him pain. Just as he is lying to spare you the worry of all this uncertainty with Jane.

Although he knows that he can never lose you now and even with a child coming with Jane, you are his wife and he can’t leave you. He was stupid to think he could even try. The thought was a sin and he’ll never forgive himself for thinking it.

Loki was so angry with him.

Rightfully so.

The good thing is that you’ll never know how bleak things looked. At least he has found his sanity again.

“Will you keep me informed? I’ll stop contacting her if you will promise to tell me how she fares. If she gets worse, I want to know.” Thor insists, his voice passionate and begging.

“You have my word, Your Majesty. Have you heard anything from Ms. Foster? Do we know exactly when we’ll be running her tests?”

“She’s very busy. As of now, it’s looking more and more likely that we won’t be able to find the time until the week’s end. After we confirm her pregnancy, I’ll tell Y/N. I’m sorry that I’ve asked you to collude in this business.”

There’s a long pause and for a moment Thor thinks that maybe the phone has disconnected but then Dr. Wilson sighs, “I cannot wait for this week to be over. Will you come back for me then? When she’s ready?”

“Yes. I’ll pick you up in the same spot that I left you. My wife wasn’t too upset about her lawn, was she? Only, Stark seems to get irritated with me every time I land on his.”

“No,” Dr. Wilson chuckles once. “She was not upset. Again, there’s little more than her throat, head, and fever on her mind. I’ve gotta go. She’s gone out into the garden for some fresh air but I need to get her back into bed.”

“Please take good care of her, doctor. She’s...well, she’s my wife,” Thor finishes heavily.

The phone goes dead and Thor sits there staring at his phone until he can find the strength to get to his feet and go off in search of Jane. They really need to talk.

~~~~~~~~~~

Friday

Thor is upset.

He’s beyond frustrated by now.

He’s irritated.

It’s a week tomorrow since he’s seen you and he can’t stand the distance anymore.

Dr. Wilson snuck him a photo but you’d been sitting on your sofa, looking weak and withdrawn.

He’s not sure what exactly is making you sick, but he knows that he can’t go another day without seeing you.

He needs to get Dr. Wilson back here and he needs to get confirmation so that he can have something to tell you once he sees you.

He won’t lose you over this.

It was one last time. One final goodbye with Jane and he’d thought she was on her birth control but apparently she hadn’t been so he hadn’t bothered to protect himself from the possibility of getting her pregnant.

Why hadn’t she said anything?! Why hadn’t she told him that she wasn’t on her pill?

He knows it’s wrong to blame her. It took both of them to make this baby, but being away from you for so long is wearing thin and he’s losing all semblance of patience.

It takes some very careful maneuvering. Heimdall is sent first, then Hilde, then Loki.

None of them know why they’re going in to corner Jane in the tower except for Loki. Well, Heimdall knows, but there’s no hiding much from Heimdall. He pretends not to know and that’s good enough for Thor.

Loki is just stepping out of the tower when he turns to look at Thor with a grave almost exhausted expression.

“She’s up there,” he assures Thor, frowning as he shuts the heavy door. “When will this end, Thor? Are you going to keep the Queen away forever?”

Thor says nothing, he’s too upset to speak. He pulls the door open roughly and stomps his way up the steps taking them two at a time until he’s standing on the top floor landing.

He can see Jane biting her lip, pacing the length of the room until she turns and finally sees him.

“Thor…” she gasps, not expecting to see him.

“We have to talk, Jane.”

She looks away, turning her back on him then moves towards her laptop which she carefully closes. She puts her hand up to her throat and turns to face him.

“I will have Dr. Wilson brought in and Dr. Alric to give you the same tests they have been giving Y/N. They will be confirming your pregnancy and once we have that, then we can all sit down and figure out-”

“I’m not pregnant,” Jane gasps, her voice filling the room despite the quiet breath that escapes her pink lips.

Thor’s stomach twists. It’s agony.

On the one hand, the words she’s just spoken are...they’re a celebration. They’re simplicity. They’re peace and a return back to normal where in his life there is only you.

On the other hand, he’s just lost a baby he never had. An heir that he’d been expecting and now can never get back.

He’d made plans for this child. He’s pictured his life with them, the happiness and joy that their birth would bring to the people of New Asgard. The assurance that they would always belong to Earth.

He’d picked names for boys and girls. He’d begun to make a list of nursery items they would need even as he lamented that the baby was not yours but Jane’s.

This baby would have, and had already begun to change his life.

And now this?!

“What?” he very nearly spits.

Jane is so flustered she’s wringing her hands hard, welting them red.

“I’m...I didn’t expect to come here and see you with her and see how fast you just-” she waves her hand as if shooing away some animal. “-moved on. It’s like you were never with me.

“You were both so happy and talking about the future and I just lost it for a little bit,” she shrugs. “I have no excuses, Thor. I’m sorry if what I said hurt you. It was selfish of me and I just loved you for so long. You were mine, you know? And now you’re married, planning to have kids, and your wife is so nice and considerate and even though she has every reason to hate me, she was polite and so damn perfect…

“I’m not afraid to say that it made me hate her. I’m ashamed of it, but not enough to take it back.”

The silence is thick. The air suddenly grows charged and Thor’s eyes shine a bright sparkling blue.

His hands crackle and his eye spits as if full of blue fire.

The sky overhead thunders and the world shakes with the boom. The lightning strikes sharp and fast, shaking the tower so that for a moment, Thor can see how Jane thinks it might topple.

His anger gives way to betrayal and his lightning fizzles out as he takes a step towards her, his brow furrowed, eye full of pain as he stares at her, searching for the joke that this must be.

There is no way that this is really happening.

“You lied to me?” Thor accuses.

Jane blanches, her lips going pale as she takes a step towards him.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie, I just-I didn’t want to see you with her anymore and I wasn’t thinking straight so I just said it before I could stop myself. I know that it was wrong and I didn’t think it would go on for so long. I wanted to tell you almost as soon as I said it that it wasn’t true, but then you just took off and then the Queen left and I wasn’t sure if you told her and maybe that’s why she wasn’t here.”

Thor shakes his head, turning away from her as he paces towards the stairs but then turns back, his anger returning but full of pain now.

“I defended you. When Loki insisted I have you tested I asked him if he doubted you and I assured him that you would not lie about something this important. What reason would you have to lie?” he demands, almost of himself instead of Jane.

“Thor,” Jane begins.

“How long were you going to let me think you were carrying my child? How long were you planning to con me?” he accuses and his words seem to hurt Jane.

Thor can’t find it in him to care too much.

“I wasn’t-that’s not what I meant to do, Thor. Please, you have to believe me. I just didn’t know how much seeing you with her would-”

“You have no right to be upset!” he booms, his voice loud and it startles Jane quiet.

She’s never heard him angry like this. She’s never heard his voice raised.

“I gave you every opportunity to be with me, to marry me, to build a life here with me and be my Queen. You didn’t want it! You flat-out refused to be tied down by me and this Kingdom but now that you see me and my wife happy, you change your mind?

“You have the audacity to raise obstacles between us because you have regrets?”

“Thor,” she tries again, but Thor won’t let her speak.

“Get out,” he says sternly, turning to move towards the stairs.

“What?!”

“I said, get out. You are no longer welcome in my home. Pray no one ever finds out of your treachery. And should you have the urge to return for any reason, don’t.”

Thor storms down the steps, so angry that each step shakes the tower.

He’s breathing heavily as he slams the door shut behind him.

The storm air helps to calm him a bit. It clears his mind at least and the past week zooms by him like an unpleasant movie.

All of that worry and the plotting and planning. The agony that he felt wondering if you’d leave him when you found out about his child with Jane was the most unbearable.

Your face flashes before his eyes and he knows that there’s only one place he can be right now.

He throws his hand out and a metallic whistling rushes closer before his fist closes around his hammer.

He swings it firmly and throws it up into the air as he makes for your home.

Now that he has nothing to keep him here, he’s eager to get back to you. He’ll tell you everything and hope that you can forgive him for lying to you about Jane.

Even though it was a lie by omission, it was still a lie.

“I’m coming, my cherub,” he whispers, so eager to have you in his arms again.

Nothing will ever tear him from you again. He is certain. Nothing. Not a false heir, or a former love, no doubts exist within him anymore. You are the one.

The only one.

[flosbelova]

they don’t know about us

i’m back with another story lmao. also, after writing this, i realized how ironic it was. whoops.

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

florence pugh x reader

summary: you and florence have been dating in secret. however, when she’s involved in a dating PR stunt to promote her new movie, you start to get worried and wonder if your relationship will ever meet the public eye.

fluffy with a hint of angst.

warnings: language, smutt-ish (18+)

word count: 3.2k+

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

you and florence have been dating for almost a year now. surprisingly, no one has found out. sure, the paparazzi have followed you guys around, but you were always careful not to look like a couple. but because everyone loves rumored romance, fans had begun speculating about your relationship. however, both you and florence have denied these “rumors” and state that you’re just “very good friends.”

but the thing is, it kills you every time you have to deny our relationship with florence.

you and florence met at an after party from an award show and instantly hit it off. within a couple weeks, she had asked you to be her girlfriend and you being a paranoid person, you told her that you’d think about it. she looked hurt at first and you felt stupid for turning her down the first time, but you came to your senses and finally said yes.

ever since then, you have both lived quietly in peace. you noticed that florence seemed to be content with the way things were: “secret.” and since it didn’t bother her that much, you figured that it shouldn’t bother you either.

when florence started filming “don’t worry, darling,” you would visit the set often and stay in her trailer. no one ever really batted an eye because you were usually in the corner and no one ever noticed you. when she wasn’t in a scene, she’d quickly run to her trailer and attack you with kisses. God, your make-outs felt like they could last an eternity. but they were usually cut short as a crew member would knock and tell florence that her scene was coming up.

fast forward to now, it’s time to promote the movie. however, because hollywood is hollywood, articles immediately came out stating that florence and her co-star, harry styles, were hollywood’s new “it-couple.” this killed you inside, obviously. but you chose not to say a word to florence because you wanted her movie to be big and for her to get more recognition.

press after press, magazines after magazines, interview after interview, photo shoots after photo shoots, articles after articles, you fucking name it. “harry styles and florence pugh: hollywood’s favorite couple.” God it killed you to see it. it was EVERYWHERE.

your family and friends that knew about you and florence kept messaging you asking if you two had broken up. you had to explain over and over that it was just for press and nothing else.

but then, you thought about it. was it really just for press? what if she started developing feelings for him? what if she actually leaves me for him? am i not good enough? why do we have to be secret? would it kill her reputation if we said anything?

these questions were racing through your mind like crazy. finally, after much thinking and trying your best to meditate on it, you decide to ask florence the question.

—

it’s sunday morning, it’s a rainy day in LA, what an odd sight. you get your coffee and take a sip, enjoying the sound of rain hitting the roof and windows. you loved the rain.

you hear footsteps coming from behind you and feel soft arms embrace you. florence rests her head on your shoulder.

“good morning baby,” she says in her adorable morning voice.

you turn your head to face her and give her a quick peck on her nose. she scrunches her nose and oh god, your heart might as well have jumped out your chest. she was so cute every single time she’d scrunch her nose.

y/n focus. you have important questions to ask florence. fucking focus.

you let go from her embrace in which you heard a whine from your girlfriend. you walk to the kitchen and put your coffee down on the counter and ask florence to sit down.

“babe, can you please sit down? we need to talk.”

you can tell that florence was caught off-guard with the expression on her face. she sits down across from you and looks at you with a worried smile.

“y/n, is anything wrong?”

you can hear your own heartbeat at this point. in fact, that’s all you hear. suddenly words aren’t coming in your brain. focus y/n. focus. you take a deep breathe and come clean.

“okay, i know we’re a secret and it’s fun being sneaky and all, but i gotta admit, it’s killing me. i also have to admit that this whole PR stunt relationship with harry is killing me. look harry’s a great guy and all but—“

“i know,” florence says cutting you off.

“oh,” you say feeling somewhat assured.

“y/n, you can’t hide anything from me. your face said it all,” florence says.

“your face said it all,” damn your expressive face.

“oh,” was all you could utter.

“i’ve started to notice when you started to get distant. in that moment i knew that it bothered you.” florence says afflicted.

you didn’t speak. you couldn’t think clearly. did i really get distant?

“y/n? are you gonna say something?” florence asked anxiously.

“um, what are we gonna do? i mean, what are you gonna do? are you gonna say something? it’s been two months since the movie came out and people are still talking about it—“ you ramble.

“y/n,” florence cuts you off again. “you know how this shit works. it’s the ‘hollywood culture.’ things like this aren’t gonna die down in just a couple of months, especially for something this big.”

“then what’s gonna happen with us?” you ask hopelessly.

“nothing will happen. we just have to wait until this dies down, sweetheart.” florence says, reaching for your hand, trying to sound reassuring.

you pull your hand back. it’s clearly shown in your face that you’re conflicted and angry. “florence, i don’t want to wait for this to die down. i’m tired of us being kept a secret. i’m exhausted of having to explain to my family and friends that we’re still a couple and that this stuff is just for press. i’m tired of having to worry if you’re developing feelings for him. i’m tired of having to worry if you’ll leave me for him. my heart aches every single time i see you both on the cover of a magazine when i go grocery shopping. i love you too much to let you go.”

florence furrows her brows and looks choleric. “why can’t you just understand that i love you? why can’t you understand that this stunt is JUST a stunt to me? maybe because you’ve been so busy being so distant and jumping to conclusions. y/n, i’m exhausted too. i really am,” she says, her voice breaking. “do you know how much it breaks me because you’ve been so distant? this past month, i’ll try to hug you, and you barely hug back. and when i try to make conversation with you, you barely respond. i miss you y/n.”

your eyes are filled with tears at this point and look up to see florence with tears falling down, clearly heartbroken and in agony. on instinct, you walk towards her and pull her into a tight hug. florence hugs you back and instantly breaks down in your arms. you stroke her hair and kiss her on her forehead.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper quietly.

you couldn’t help but feel guilty that you made her feel this way. it’s true, you had been distant. you had been so caught up with worrying about the “what if’s,” and didn’t think for a second about what florence might have been feeling. this movie rested on her back and she had to do whatever she could to make sure that this movie was gonna get the recognition it deserved. even with this whole stunt, florence never questioned your relationship for one second. you did.

God, i feel like a dumbass.

you grab florence’s face and wipe the tears from her eyes. it pained you to see her cry, even when she was acting. only this time, she wasn’t acting. this was real. this was a real life situation.

florence smiled weakly at you and quietly said in almost a whisper, “i’m gonna say something soon. it’s about time that people knew.” she sniffs.

your heart dropped to your stomach. you started to regret even letting her know. i should’ve just kept my mouth shut.

florence clears her throat and continues, “it’s good that you brought this up. for weeks, i’ve been thinking how to bring this about to the public— i even confided in harry and asked for his advice,” she laughs softly.

you look at her with worry in your eyes and florence easily reads you like a book.

“don’t worry, darling. i got this handled,” florence says smiling. “also, pun heavily intended.”

you roll your eyes and chuckle lightly and hug her tightly once more.

—

a week after your conversation, you check your phone and notice that it’s filled with a couple notifications. you wondered why since your phone usually had tumbleweeds passing by. you noticed that your calendar had a very important notification. you went to check and oh shit.

how could i forget?

it’s your one year anniversary with florence and you completely forgot.

what the fuck is wrong with me?!

florence barges in the room with a big smile on her face and a tray full of food. she sets the tray on your bedside nightstand and kisses you on the cheek.

“good morning, baby! happy one year anniversary! look i made you pancakes with chocolate chips— just the way you like it— and look! i cut the strawberries to make them into hearts!” she squeals.

you looked at her dumb founded and all you could do was grab her face and kiss her passionately. she moans quietly and moves to straddle your lap without breaking the kiss. you move your hands from her face and move it to her waist and pull her in closer.

florence grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in much closer, breaking any other space in between the both of you. you feel her tongue run across your bottom lip to test the waters and you slightly open your mouth and let her tongue slip in. you let out a soft moan as her tongue touches yours. she breaks the kiss to catch her breath for a moment and proceeds to leave trails of kisses down your jaw to the crook of your neck. you feel her nibble on your neck and you couldn’t help but moan.

the sound of your moans have to be on florence’s top list of favorite sounds because what she did next made you jump.

as she continued to leave wet trails of kisses across your neck, florence slides her hand under your shirt and squeezes your boobs and runs her thumb over your nipple.

you move your chest more towards her, but as soon as you do so, she removes her hand and moves it back to your face and presses her lips gently on yours. she pulls back and looks at you alluringly.

you give her a pout. “damn we were about to get to the good part, why’d you stop?”

she strokes your cheek with her thumb, smiles, and shrugs. she gives you a quick peck on your lips.

“eat your breakfast,” she says to you.

“you’re a damn tease,” you say annoyed.

she winks at you and gets up from your lap. she leaves the room and you grab your tray and follow her to the kitchen. you took the plates from the tray and set them on the island table.

“why’d you get up? i made that to be eaten in bed! do you not get the concept of breakfast in bed?” she asks sarcastically.

“my bad. do you want me to go back?” you respond.

“no, you already made the effort to bring the food here, so we might as well eat.” she says.

—

“okay, i have a confession to make. i kinda forgot that our anniversary was today,” you say embarrassed.

florence chuckled, “i know.”

“well to make up for it, can i treat you out to lunch?” you ask nervously biting your lip hoping for a satisfactory answer.

florence had always been vocal about eating out because she didn’t want your relationship to be exploited. and because LA was always buzzing with paparazzi, you and florence usually chose to get food delivered or, florence would cook both your meals.

but to your surprise, florence says, “yeah. let’s do it.”

—

you drove to this restaurant in west hollywood that most celebrities were known to go to. they always had good services and their appetizers were scrumptious.

when you walked inside, you noticed how many eyes were on you and florence. you wondered why and then you realized… florence was holding your hand.

you tried to let go but florence tightened her grip and whispered in your ear, “it’s okay,” and gave your cheek a quick peck. you knew damn well people noticed that.

when you finally got to your table, you noticed how many heads were turning. your heart started beating fast, chills went down your spine, and your hand started to sweat.

after you got your meals, you nudged florence’s arm.

“baby people are looking.”

she looks up at you as she brings her food to her mouth and says, “let them look.”

you went back to your food and tried to focus on eating, but of course, you couldn’t. so, you checked your phone and you guessed it, your phone was buzzing with notifications from your friends and social media mentions.

“baby, put your phone down and eat. we’ll get out of here quicker if you finish your food quicker.” florence says, taking your phone and setting it next to her.

you sigh and continue eating.

after you both finish, you look out the window and noticed all the cars and people passing by. the view from the outside was so nice. the sky finally cleared up and LA was back to being sunny.

you didn’t notice it then, but florence had snapped a picture of you admiring the view from the restaurant window.

“alright, y/n, wanna get out of here?” florence asks.

“yeah, let’s go home.” you respond.

you insisted on paying the bill since it was your treat, and made sure to tip your waiter extra money.

after paying the bill, florence stands up and grabs your hand. your eyes widened for a quick second because she was holding your hand in public, once again.

that same night, florence posted the off-guard picture that she took of you and posted it on her Instagram with the caption: “my favourite view. happy one year my love.”

you decided to check your Instagram and saw that your photo was the first thing you saw on your feed. you did a double take because you couldn’t believe that florence had actually posted you.

you checked the comments and it consisted of avid fans who were excited, shocked, and in disbelief.

“OH MY GOD I KNEW IT”

“HOLY SHIT WHAT??”

“wait, what about her and harry??”

“i thought her and harry were dating?? i’m so confused”

“florence!” you scream out from the living room.

“yes, darling?” she screams back from the kitchen.

she walks towards the living room and as soon as she gets near the couch, you stand up, and try to hug her eagerly, but instead you both fall to the ground. you quickly get up and help florence.

“i’m sorry, but what the hell?” you ask in shock.

florence furrows her brows and looks annoyed. “what do you mean, ‘what the hell?’ you tackled me—“

“you actually posted me?” you interrupt.

she changes her mood and says, “oh that? yeah i did. i decided it was time, and believe me, i was getting tired of the stunt too.”

you couldn’t help but smile. you kissed her so quickly that she almost fell. “i love you so fucking much.”

—

the next day, your phone was still buzzing with notifications but this time, it was double the notifications. you decided to check your phone and saw articles supporting your relationship, saw other articles that explained hollywood’s infamous PR stunts, and unfortunately, you noticed that some articles were trying to paint florence as some sort of “cheater.” this angered you to your core.

why the fuck would they accuse her of cheating? that’s a whole wad of bullshit.

you get up from your bed and walk to your kitchen. florence was already there preparing coffee. she turns around and yelps.

“Y/N!” florence yells.

you laugh. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.”

you walk towards her and give her a big embrace. once you pull back, you don’t let go just yet. you give florence a quick kiss and finally let go.

“my phone has been buzzing all morning” you say annoyed.

“yeah mine too,” florence says, looking defeated.

you notice her expression. you grab her hand. “baby what’s wrong?”

florence let’s go of your hand and waves off her annoyance, “i saw an article that called me a cheater and i’m not gonna lie it ruined my morning.” she turned around to the island table and took a sip of her coffee.

you felt your anger rise up, but you calmed yourself. you wrapped your arms around florence’s waist from behind, and hugged her until she felt better. as soon as you do this, she turns around and wraps her arms around you, returning the embrace.

“i’ll be okay. my publicist called me this morning and said that she cleared up any rumors or accusations.” florence says, sighing.

“okay, that’s good,” you say, stroking her hair. you gave her a kiss on her cheek. “is everything gonna be alright?” you ask.

“yeah. i’m sure they will.” florence says in a hopeful tone. “whatever happens, i’ll be okay; we’ll be okay.”

you kiss her gently and whisper, “i love you, flo.”

“i love you more, y/n,” florence returns, and presses her soft lips onto yours.

—

a couple of weeks passed and you and florence’s ‘incident’ was basically last year’s issue. magazines and articles had finally shut up and stopped accusing florence of being a cheater.

you had wondered why they would even call her that since the relationship between her and harry weren’t even real to begin with. almost everyone knew that it was a PR stunt anyway, and yet, they still called her that. fucking hollywood.

however, you had noticed that florence’s mood had improved more within the weeks since she was finally able to post you. any chance she got, she would post you. as much as it embarrassed you, you kind of enjoyed the attention. you enjoyed finally being able to go out in public, hand in hand with your girlfriend, kiss her, without a care in the world. you both promised to always tell each other anything, and both of you would do your utmost best to fix them. all was well in the world. you loved each other and didn’t give a fuck about what other people had to say. and that’s all that mattered. you both loved one another.

the end

[wizkiddx]

the worst case scenario

okay so this is possibly part 1 of a v v angsty dad!tom fic!!

WARNING: the section under the cut of this is v v v dark with mentions of death and some graphic descriptions of blood etc - please please don't read if any of these things may affect you <3

the part above the cut (the keep reading bit) is completely fluffy (a bit of childbirth but not graphic) so you could read only that first bit as a stand alone if anybody wanted to

dad!tomholland x reader

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“Stop laughing at me!!!”  Y/n exclaimed in mock anger before bursting out laughing, knowing she did look pretty ridiculous. 

“I can’t help it you just…. You look like an elephant!” Tom cackled from his reclined position lying on the couch, whilst his 8 month pregnant fiancé struggled to get up from her seated position on the floor - where she had spent the last half an hour wrapping presents for her nephews birthday.

“You know a supportive soon to be father would’ve helped me up!” Replying with a scowl that didn’t last long, Y/n finally standing up took the three steps to the couch before uncerimoniously collapsing into it. 

Grinning with this absolute sparkle in his eye, Tom leant forward and slid up to Y/n to pull her into his side. His hand came to rest upon her massive bump - at this point it was almost a rule that if he were touching Y/n he also had to be touching the bump. Tom claimed it to be skin to skin contact and although Y/n were pretty sure that didn’t come into effect until after the baby was born, she wasn’t complaining either. 

“It’s a shame your stuck with me then huh?” He murmured into the top of Y/n’s head, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head while tracing meaningless patterns on her shirt over the bump. Tom was beyond excited to become a Dad, family had always meant everything to him growing up (and now). There was nothing he wanted more , therefore, to call them a family of three - or more accurately four, not forgetting Tess of course. 

“Oh how I regret ever taking up that extra shift at the club” She mused sarcastically, enjoying how he feigned offence in return.

 The way the two had met was so incredibly cliche that it was almost painful, whenever anyone asked how they met she always winced internally. But it was their truth, Y/n had been a caddy at the golf course Tom frequented with his brothers. The nature of his ‘reputation’ meant the caddies always had to sign NDA’s to be paired with Tom’s group and the chosen few were those personally recommended by the golf course. She’d always stuck out to him, mainly because she seemed to be biting her tongue as they worked their way round the course. Caddies, also by job description, were not to speak unless spoken to; to be polite and courteous but not chatty. So, given how professioial she was, had taken some convincing for Tom to drag it out why she looked in physical pain whenever they played the 13th hole.

~~

“Look somethings on your mind I can tell! If you hate me I can arrange another caddy I just -“ He followed her march to back from the hole toward the little buggy, ahead of his brothers and Dad who were making small talk from behind.

“FINE! Okay fine.” Reaching the end of her tether, Y/n snapped, whipping her body round to face him. “It’s your grip! On this hole especially you always play the driver with you pinky too far down the shaft, it’s why you always end up in the bunker on the 13th! It’s bloody infuriating because them I’m the one that has to clean the buggy you’ve trampled sand into!”

“Oh…. I-I … I wasn’t expecting that” Tom had spoken quietly, in an unfamiliar tone to Y/n. Over hours she’d spent on the course with them over the months, Y/n had gotten used to his storytelling voice when recounting an insane experience to his family that he’d had in the world of Hollywood; his grumpy voice when he played badly, which was often; and then his gloating voice - most definitely the worst and intolerable. This voice though, was different.  

“I-I’m so sorry I have no right, I just-“ She’d out her foot in it …. badly. The young actor was one of the most clubs most prestigious and valued members; and she’d just insulted him. Clearly, she was also about to be in search of another job. 

“No no I appreciate your tip… I didn’t even realise you play?” His gracious smile calmed her nerves a little, though Y/n still wrung her hands together as she replied.

“Well we aren’t supposed to talk about it but the club let us employees loose after hours… I practice quite a bit”

“Seeing as you think my game is so shitty, you fancy a round next time?”

~~

Flash forward 3 and half years and a proposal, they were now taking their next massive leaps in the world together. Bringing a whole new life into it. It was bloody terrifying, they both openly admitted. But it was also exciting, new, incredible and… and made them even closer. Now they had to be in each others lives forever, no escaping. 

“How many days left?” Craning her neck back on his shoulder so Y/n could meet his brown eyes, she knew the answer would be immediate. 

“15 till the due date and the app said they’re the size of a rhubarb but I don’t really know what that means.” He knew more about the pregnancy and birth than she did. He had about a dozen different apps on his phone (including one pointlessly comparing the size of the baby to carrots/ watermelons/ onions), had read 4 different books (which for Tom was the equivalent to reading Newton’s book ‘philisphica Mathematica’.)

Ever since she’d told him about the pregnancy Tom had excelled every expectation Y/n had of him… massively. Without even having a conversation surrounding it, he had explicitly cancelled all major work commitments within 2 months of the due date and until around a year after. He had flown back and fourth across the world so he could pop in and check on you. He’d also set his whole family on becoming your minders when he was away - Y/n wouldn’t have been able to go a day avoiding a Holland (or Osterfield) if she had tried. 

The pregnancy thus far hadn’t been the easiest though, hence why Y/n still appreciated to constant worrying texts and calls. During the first trimester the morning sickness had been literal hell; and then you’d had a little bit of a scare with pre-eclampsia during the second. It landed you a 3 day stay in hospital and a very very panicked Tom rushing back from New York on the first possible flight. 

So now? Y/n wanted the baby out. She wanted family life as parents. (At which point hopefully Tom would stop comparing the size of your child to an assortment of different fruit and veg)

“You know, you really are going to be the best dad in the world Thomas Stanely Holland.”

“And you Y/f/n y/m/n y/l/n are already a pretty impressive mum.”

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It was 3 o’clock the next morning when Y/n awoke with a sudden groan instinctively rubbing her stomach in an attempt to get them easing up. Now too familiar with Braxton-Hicks contractions, the weird cramping that waxes and wanes but never letting her get any rest - Y/n knew she was in for a long night. With a muted sigh she carefully lifted Tom’s arm off her side, cautious not to disturb him. The poor boy had been up most nights with her, just because baby wasn’t letting her sleep, it didn’t mean Tom wasn’t deserving of rest either. 

So making furtive movements at a snails pace, she attempted to tip toe out the room - yet as Tom had pointed out before, she looked almost like an elephant, so everything was relative. Surprisingly though, she was successful, escaping onto the soft cream carpet of their hallway before choosing to venture into the room opposite theirs. It had once been a spare room, though more correctly termed the ‘shit room’ because that’s where all the accumulated shit they got was thrown. Now however, Tom and his brothers had taken on the mammoth task of clearing it out and redecorating - creating the most beautiful nursery one could ever see. Complete with a rocking chair which Y/n made a beeline for, now allowing herself to audible groan at the tight sensation deep inside her. 

Normally they would ease after a half an hour or so, yet this time, after what was surely more like an hour and a half they started to…. ramp up. What was a tight pressure sensation quickly became one more forceful volatile and full of pain. She put it off for about 3 or 4 cycles of these, pursing her lips and breathing deeply as she tried to convince herself they’d just simply fizzle away. This couldn’t be the real thing could it? It was too soon - as Tom had said she wasn’t due for another 15 days. It wasn’t happening… was it?

The answer was pretty comprehensively and cohesively given when Y/n tried to stand up, in the hope of walking the ache off, she felt an incredibly tight crunch as her insides seemed to wring themselves together. Oh … and a surge of water soaked her pyjama bottoms. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck FUCKKKK TOMMMM!! TOM-ah shit-  MY WATERS!!! TOOOMMMM���The pain had amped up to a very very impressive levels, forcing Y/n to clutch her sides as she kept bending and straightening back up… as if that would help. Her lonesome agony didn’t last long though, a flustered Tom hurtled in the room - his hair sticking up all over the place and although his eyes were puffy from sleep he still had them glued open impressively wide.

“No its-its too- its too early!” In pure disbelief, Tom shook his head staring across at her face, contorted in pain.

“Yeh because-“ She gulped and exhaled in as much of a controlled manner she could through pursed lips; before answering his stupid statement. “Because I can just HOLD IT IN FOR ANOTHER 2 WEEKS SHALL I?” It took a while for Tom to process, looking down at the puddle of clear fluid on the floor and damp patch on her plaid bottoms while it was Y/n’s turn to look upon his it utter disbelief at his stupidity. 

 “Oh shit shitshitshitshitshitshit!!!!” His words grew with increased volume and place whilst he stayed frozen, his arms reaching out lightly toward Y/n without touching her though. “What do we do?!”

He of course had revised repeatedly and extensively what he was supposed to do when this happened - yet in the moment all knowledge and planning evaporated from his mind. Now wasn’t the time for taking the mick of her terrified fiancé though, Y/n was too blinded by pain as she leaned on the dresser.

“Get the-ah FUCKING hell - phone we need to time them and phone the … the-MIDWIFE.” It was hard to direct a frantic and terrified man when one feels as though her insides are collapsing in on themselves. 

Tom gulped, nodding shakily, whilst trying to take deep breaths because although he was fucking terrified it wasn’t him that was giving birth. He had to step up now. 

It took barely 10 minutes from the midwife picking up to a frantic Tom for her to assess that they needed to get into the hospital asap. During the pregnancy, all of Tom’s rich friends had recommended paying for a private hospital like the ‘Portland hospital’. The idea was it was a much more luxurious and private experience - of course coming with a heavy price tag. For Tom money was not an issue, so he’d suggested to Y/n and met the strongest rejection of all his life. The NHS was by far the only choice in Y/n’s mind - of course it busier, a lot less serene and not as private; but if god forbid something did happen, that was where all the experts and resources were. The idea of being able to pay for better access to healthcare actually repulsed Y/n and everything she stood for… so in short Tom was met with a very blunt refusal. 

Once they arrived on the ward, all it took was one look at Y/n’s inflated belly and the way her body was squirming in the wheelchair Tom was pushing, whilst laden with the baby bags they’d had packed and prepared for weeks, for the pair to be rushed into a side room. After an intense 20 minutes of getting Y/n settled, getting her full medical history and inspection of her vagina the hmidwife’s head popped up from between her legs with a kind smile. She explained in a calming and gentle tone that Y/n was 5 cms dilated and had got to that point fast, yet now things looked to be slowing down a bit. With final words of advice of try to relax she left the pair to it. 

They both looked at each other, a matching expression of confusion and relative terror blatantly clear in both their eyes. It had them both burst out laughing, if Y/n then scowled at the pain that shot through her side.

“This is really happening huh?” Tom murmured as he rounded the bed to gently run his hands through her sticky hair.

“I don’t know unless you really do want me to postpone their arrival for a short while?” Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head, although not really able to surpress the chuckle at his finances humour - even if it was at his expense.

“Glad to see you can still be as sarcastic as ever.” He laughed but before she could reply another wave of contractions hit making her instead just scream - grabbing his hand so tightly Tom was certain a bone or two were crushed in the process. 

It was another hour or two of the same traumatic sight of watching the women he loved more than anything in the world be in such extreme pain. God knows how his appreciate for his mother grew in that moment - she had had four kids overall, two of them twins! Tom dared to think of the scenes in that room of twin brothers birth. Having to deal with both Sam and Harrys large heads…

Harrison had arrived in the meantime, he was to be the child’s godfather and Y/n was more than happy to have him there - even if it was more of a support to Tom than Y/n. Quite expectantly though, he was just as terrified and useless as Tom - so instead of having one idiot to deal with, the midwives now had double trouble of terrified men. 

And yet after another 1 hour or so Y/n was being told to make one final push. Baring down on the gas and air tube, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut together whilst simultaneously contracting every muscle in her body with what little energy she had left. Hearing Tom and Harrisons words of encouragement; the midwifes orders and her own long and continuous scream, Y/n pushed with all she had. It was excruciating and torturous yet she kept going until the most beautiful sound was the only thing left reverberating round the room. 

Her babies cry. 

Tom looked at the scene in awe, feeling an almost out of body experience as the midwife unfolded from her position leant over the bed looking up to Tom. 

“Do you want to cut the cord Dad?” Releasing a breathy laugh, tears collecting in his eyes he looked down at Y/n. She looked a mess - hair flying all over the place; sweaty sheen and a ruined look on her face; panting hard as she caught her breath. But to Tom? Never had he seen her look more beautiful, especially when she managed a small smile, nodding encouragingly at him. So he moved round to the end of the bed as the nurse motioned, while Harrison squeezed Y/n’s shoulder with the proudest look on his face. 

It was the first time Tom had ever seen his child. And really, seeing a wrinkly little pink thing covered in all sorts of gunge - it shouldn’t be such a magical moment. But here he was, a single tear escaping over his lower lashes at the sight of them wriggling about. The midwife gave him a second, before gently handing him the medical scissors and directing him as to what to do. Once done, the lady announced the room it was a beautiful baby girl.

The next hour or so was a bit of a blur, the whole situation felt extremely surreal to everyone - but perhaps most to Y/n. Although the baby was premature the doctors had checked and were confident was perfectly healthy, so after both Y/n and Tom having their turn holding her (Tom finally got his real skin to skin time) they brought in a little incubator where she could rest while Y/n was recovering. Due to her prematurity, as a safety net, the doctors did want to keep the baby girl in overnight for observation, which meant the whole party would be staying too. 

Y/n loved nothing more than watching Tom and Haz with their baby. The way they delicately cradled her in their strong arms and the way their eyes softened so inexplicably. Y/n swore that had she not just pushed a watermelon sized human out her vagina, the way Tom looked while holding their daughter would make her pregnant all over again.  

“I still can’t believe you two created a real life human.” Harrison mused while standing with the baby girl in his arms, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he watched her sleep soundly. 

“To be fair it was mainly Y/n” Tom laughed as he squeezed Y/n’s hand (wincing internally as it hurt his already injured hand - Y/n had an almost death grip)

“Oh no credit where credits due… he was involved for a whole 3 minutes or so.” Harrison snorted and Tom scowled at her, yet her cheeky if exhausted grin instantly erased any annoyance.

“Don’t make sexual jokes in front of our child!” He retorted, Harrison still laughing at his friend. Haz loved Y/n too - she made Tom a better version of himself. And now, she’d made him a dad. 

**triggering part starts here

After all the excitement of the early morning it was more than fair to say Y/n was shattered, Tom not doing much better. So after a little bit, Tom joined Y/n on the bed and they instantly fell asleep to the light beeping of their babies heart monitor. Harrison stayed in the arm chair in the corner of the room, wheeling the little incubator right in front of him to just stare at the little girl. He had been texting Tom’s family too, giving them details of when they’d be allowed to come and meet the little one, who had just woken up to all Tom’s frantic texts from the night before.

Eventually though he was ped ousnapt of his happy daze, looking over to the bed and seeing Tom groan as he shifted on the mattress that was technically only spacious enough for one.

“You good mate?” Harrison spoke in a low voice, keen not to disturb either the baby of Y/n - she had earned a bit of peace. Tom just mumbled in response, rubbing his eyes as he sat up before letting out a deeper groan.

“-hat the fuck” Tom lifted up the blanket covering them both as Harrison looked on inquisitively. But then Tom leapt off the bed, started violently shouting Y/n as he shook her in a look of desperation. It was violent and harsh, Harrison was horrified as he immediately stood up in an action to pull Tom off her. 

“Tom what are you-“

“Get help Haz.” Tom turned around to look at Haz, only at which point could the blonde haired boy make out why Tom looked so insane. Because his trousers, and the bedsheets that were now not hidden by the blankets, was covered in a red sticky substance. Jaw dropping, Haz slalomed round the incubator to stand at the foot of the bed. 

It honestly looked like a horror scene. Y/n’s lower half was completely saturated in a bright red liquid that slowly was creeping further and further through the sheets. Her face looked pale, Haz cursing himself for not noticing earlier and her breathing… it looked so slow it was barely noticeable. The silence was only endured for a few moments, before Tom turned back to violently shaking the dead weight below him yelling her name repeatedly and frantically. 

As soon as the alarm was raised more and more staff piled into the room, each one carrying a new level of importance and seniority - instantly taking control of the room and shouting orders. Tom had long since been pulled away from the bed by a nurse, who was trying to speak to him and calm him down, but was completely ignored as he focused on the scene over their shoulder.

“Looking like a primary PP bleed but she’s lost at least 3 pints already…. Somone bleep the aenestists and lets get moving to the OR please!.. We’ll need bloods crossmatch 5 units….”  

Tom heard to the controlled sense of urgency in the lead doctors voice and he felt as though his heart was being torn straight from his chest. Harrison took over from the nurse, half restraining - half hugging him as the nurse ushered them completely out the room.  Shouting over Tom’s desperate pleas to let the doctors do their thing. He fought hard against Harrison but ultimately his hold was enough to keep him back, the two watching from he corridor as Y/n’s bed was wheeled rapidly out the room - what seemed like at least 12 staff members bustling after it.

Harrison knew it was hopeless to try and talk to Tom, as he paced up and down the ‘relatives room’ the two had been confined to. They didn’t have a clue what was going on, no-one seemed to want to tell them - making the worst case option appear the most likeliest in Harrison’s head. A nurse had said the baby, as yet unnamed, had been taken down the neonatal unit so that it was one thing less for them to worry about ; but refused to say anything about Y/n, saying a doctor would come and explain soon. 

It must’ve been 20 mins, even if to the two men it felt like a lifetime, when a round and short, greying man with big black rimmed rectangular glasses entered the room. Tom was too in his own head to even notice, pacing up and down the room while constantly running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his breath in regular time - even if his brain was on overdrive.  It took Harrison calling his name twice to make him snap out of it, looking up with desperate pleading eyes to notice the stout man, a sympathetic smile on his face. 

“Are you Mrs y/L/n’s husband?”

“Fiance”

“I’m Dr Webber the consultant gynaecologist,  shall we take a seat sir?” Tom stayed rigid, standing opposite him in an offensive manner.

“She’s dead isn’t she?” At Tom’s cold words, Haz’s breath halted in his chest. It had been what they’d both been thinking, of course, it was natural when you see someone with more blood out their body than inside it. The doctor seemed a little shocked at his frankness, pressing his lips together as he let out a sigh. 

“No sir she’s not but she is very very unwell. Please, let’s sit down so we can talk about it because I understand it’s a lot to take in.” It took a couple of movements of Tom stood frozen staring but Dr Webber held firm, waiting until Tom took a seat next to Haz before he moved - drawing a chair from across the room so he could face both men. 

“First off I’m sorry you were removed from the room and put in here for so long but these situations are incredibly hard and to get Y/n the best care we needed the whole room.”

“Doctor I just… I just need to know what’s going on.” He couldn’t deal with the state of unknowing, Tom was going insane, he didn’t care for the small talk. 

“Sorry right, so what we think happened was your fiancé developed a condition called ‘placental accreta’. In simple terms, a bit of the placenta is stuck in the uterus and causes bleeding.”

“That much bleeding?” Haz couldn’t help himself from butting in, he knew this wasn’t really his place, that he was just being there for Tom. But at the same time that was his godchilds mum, it mattered. 

“Honestly? Usually not, Y/n had very severe bleed… So she has been taken in for surgery, where the very talented surgeons are trying patch up the affected blood vessels. I’m afraid at this point that’s all I can really say.”

“So… she’s going to be okay?” It was desperate plea for something that, even if Tom wouldn’t admit, he didn’t really believe - it seemed as if none of the three in the room did. 

“It’s not that easy I’m afraid. Assuming the surgeons can stabilise the bleeding and fix it…. with blood loss like she has suffered we… we don’t know what the effects of that will be. We tried to prevent as much damage to her brain and body as possible with transfusing blood into her and it was good that she was in hospital so could get treatment almost immediately…. But I’m afraid it’s simply too early to say. The first hurdle is going to be getting her out of surgery safely, only then can we deal with whatever happens next.”

Tom had so many emotions flashing through his head. He knew the doctor was trying to go slow to make the information a little more digestible  but it was all so bloody incomprehensible. So when the greying man asked  both men if they had any questions, neither took up his offer. Surely they both would after hours of processing and analysing but for right now? They were stunned into silence. 

“Okay sir, now I hope you don’t mind me saying this but it really is important for you to hear. You are now a father, as Y/n is a mother. This situation is never easy but as a first time dad I need you to be aware that now your fiancé can’t be your only priority. We are all here to support you but please, just remember that.”

Harrison was so glad the doctor had said that, it was so completely true - yet Haz knew he didn’t have enough power to have said it to Tom. The whole thing was impossible and at the centre was an innocent, beautiful but totally dependant baby. 

“What happens now then?” Haz had to ask on behalf of his friend, who was now completely overwhelmed. Dr Webber sighed, leaning back and rubbing his knees before answering. 

“If the surgery is successful it’ll be at a best estimate two hours before we will have news for you , then she will be taken into intensive care where everything else would be assessed and further investigations would happen. You can both stay here or go get food, maybe go down and see the baby in the neonatal ICU? I personally promise that as soon as any of us get any news you will be the first to know.” 

He was met with the sort of silence that makes you shiver. Sighing heavily, the doctor rubbed his knees, apparently preparing to leave. “This possibly one of the worst case scenarios that could’ve happened but Y/n is in the best hands and we will do everything for her. If you do think of anything you want clarification on, grab one of the nurses and they’ll come and find me.”

And then he left. 

The room was deathly silent. Harrison couldn’t dare to look over at Tom - he knew what he would see and honestly seeing Tom like that would only make it worse. God knows how long they sat in those plastic lined, lightly padded hospital chairs. Both in silence. Just thinking… or more like worrying… or more like dreading. It was Tom who actually broke the silence first, his voice barely audible but still the meaning was crisp and clear. 

“I can’t do it Haz” For the first time since the doctor was with them, Harrison looked at Tom, catching him directly in the eye. That hurt… Tom’s eyes looked so, so… hopeless. He knew what his broken friend was saying, but honestly Haz didn’t want to hear it so he did not respond. That didn’t stop Tom though, he continued. “I can’t do it. … I-I can’t be a dad without her… I just can’t.”

What the hell was Harrison supposed to say? There wasn’t really a guidebook to this situation. He was clueless. So, cautiously Harrison just leaned over, wrapping his arms round Tom as he all but collapsed into his friends chest. Tom was sobbing harshly as Harrison looked up at the ageing ceiling tiles, trying to surpress his own emotions because now clearly wasn’t about him. 

“You can Tom… you have to.” His friend didn’t respond, well apart from harsh sobs that racked his frame. And so Harrison just let Tom cry, folded awkwardly and uncomfortably over the arm rest of the chairs, occasionally yelling into his chest at the unjustness of the situation. 

It wasn’t fair. But it had still happened. And there was still a baby girl by herself downstairs. 

//////

is this okay or too much? I won't write another part if generally people think its a bit too dark!!!!

[babymetaldoll]

Serenade her, bro! (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

I don’t own this gif, whoever made it, thank you, I love you 💜

Requested: Yes. My boyfriend saw this gif and asked me to write whatever came to my mind based on it, as long as it included Rossi in recreational drugs. (Yes, boyfriend is particular about his requests) 

Pairing: Spencer Reid / Reader  

Summary: Spencer and (Y/N) have their first fight after a rough case. To help him ease his mind, Derek and Rossi take Reid out for a few drinks. But things get a little… out of hand. 

Warnings: Mentions of drugs, mentions of Spencer being an asshole, cursing (lots of cursing!) and fluff, ‘cos I can’t live without it.   

Word count: 2,3 K

Masterlist

.

It had been a hard case. And there had been many sleepless nights trying to catch a killer who targeted single mothers. The team had a rough week, and no one was ok. Especially Spencer and (Y/N). 

They had been together for a few months, and that morning they had their first fight. It had been stupid, deep down, they both knew it, but neither of them wanted to say “sorry” first. 

Yes, surprisingly, both of them were wrong. And neither Reid nor (Y/N) was ready to face it.

For a couple of smart Supervisory Special Agents, they were stubborn and childish. Aaron wanted to smack them. He was glad the case was over before they got into the fight, ‘cos otherwise, those two would have ended up suspended. 

Everybody was tired on the trip back, and most of the team was sleeping, except Reid, ‘cos he was too angry, so he did his best to avoid thinking and tried to read. Reading was a good idea. He liked reading. Except for the fact he didn’t seem to understand one word on the page he kept staring at. 

- “What is it, kid?”- Rossi sat in front of Spencer and handed him a glass of scotch.

- “Twenty minutes on the same page, I’m guessing you are not really reading it unless it’s a fascinating page.” 

Reid sighed and closed the book. He looked around. (Y/N) was asleep next to JJ on the other side of the plane. 

- “We all know you two fought. It doesn’t take a profiler to notice,”- Rossi said and sipped his scotch. 

- “Are we that obvious?”

- “No, the hotel walls weren’t that thick. We all heard your fight.”

Spencer was now not only tired and upset. He was embarrassed. 

- “Come on, kid, it wasn’t that bad. Just say you are sorry and that’s it” 

- “It’s not that. I don’t think I should be the one apologizing. She was wrong”- David shook his head and sighed. 

- “Kid, trust me; you have to apologize.” 

- “Why? Why me? She was wrong!”- Reid actually believed he was right. Not only that, but he was sure (Y/N) was going to apologize. Rossi smiled and sighed. 

- “Yeah, sure, you are the relationship’s expert after three months.”

- “So three failed marriages makes you an expert?”

That’s the whole problem: when Spencer is mad, he says things in a way that makes him sound like a jerk. (Y/N) knew that, but one thing is dealing with Spencer mad when you are his best friend. And another completely different thing is dealing with your boyfriend Spencer when he is angry. 

It was ten times worse. 

Rossi didn’t take it hard. He even chuckled. Why should he be upset? He knew Spencer would have it way worse with (Y/N) than with him. 

- “What’s up, pretty boy?”- Derek sat next to Reid and frowned- “You are drinking? so you still don’t apologize with your lady.”

Spencer closed his eyes in agony. Of course, everybody knew, including his annoying best friend. 

- “Can we please not talk about this?”- he begged 

- “You know what, as soon as we land, we are going out for a drink”- Morgan wasn’t really asking or suggesting. It was a command.  

- “If you don’t mind, I think I should come along,”- Rossi said, and Derek nodded

- “You are the expert!”

The bar was full, but somehow, Morgan managed to get them a table. Rossi got the first round of drink, and Spencer kept asking himself what he was doing there. He didn’t even say goodbye to (Y/N). When they landed, she walked away as fast as possible, with JJ and Prentiss, and didn’t even turn to look at him. 

He was in agony, but still, he was sure she was the one who should apologize. 

- “Ok, pretty Ricky, what happened with (Y/N)?”- Derek sipped his beer and tapped on Spencer’s shoulder. 

- “We all heard the fight, but what was it all about?”

- “I don’t wanna talk about that,”- Reid murmured and sipped his drink. 

Rossi had gotten him a Long Island ice tea. Why? He figured it was the fastest way to get him drunk. Drunk Spencer was going to talk about the fight. Sober Spencer was going to try to get the hell out of the bar. It didn’t take a profiler to figure that out. 

- “You know, you are a lucky guy. She is an amazing woman,”- Rossi said and looked around the bar. They were on their third round of drinks, and neither of them was really sober

- “None of these girls could ever get you the way she does.”

- “I know”- Spencer slurred and sighed- “I really love her”

- “Have you told her that?”- Derek asked and frowned, surprised- “That’s why you fought?”

- “No, we fought ‘cos she wanted to borrow my scarf.”

Rossi and Morgan looked at Spencer in shock. 

- “Sorry, what?”- David needed to make sure he heard it right- “You two fought ‘cos she wanted to wear your scarf?”- and Reid just nodded- “I’m gonna need more information, kid”

- “Ok, I know you think this is stupid, but it really isn’t just about the scarf”- Spencer tried to explain. 

- “I’m hoping it’s not, or I am going to call Caltech and ask them to take your PhDs away!”- David Rossi was annoyed. 

- “It’s just that I always say to her: “Bring a jacket, bring a scarf, bring a sweater” or whatever, ‘cos she is always cold. But she never does! ever! and she always ends up asking me to lend her something I am wearing!”

There was a silence at the table. Neither Derek nor Rossi could say a word. They never thought a genius could be that stupid. 

- “So when she asked if she could borrow my scarf, I told her no! and she got mad and said I was being mean, and I told her I wasn’t mean, I was just tired she wouldn’t listen to me when I tell her to bring her own fucking scarf!”

Spencer was now nearly shouting. He looked at his friends and grabbed his glass, but his third long island was over. 

- “And then she said I was being a jerk, so I told her she was a stubborn, spoiled princess.” 

Neither Rossi nor Morgan could still make a sound. 

- “She was clearly offended, and I don’t know why ‘cos I was just trying to make a point and never thought about hurting her feelings or whatever. But I don’t think someone might be hurt if you call them “stubborn,” or “spoiled,” and less “princess,” right? she is just impossible”. 

- “She just wanted your scarf ‘cos women love wearing our clothes!!”- Rossi yelled- “It’s their weird way to say “I love you” without saying a thing!!”

Spencer frowned and thought about those words for a minute. They made no sense. 

- “If she wants to wear some of my clothes, she just has to ask, and I giver her a scarf or whatever”

- “Shit! you are an asshole!”- Derek wanted to hit his friend and laugh at him at the same time- “Women never bring extra clothing, they want to wear what you are wearing, they love that, deal with it”

- “But she has done that for years! not just now that we’re dating!”

- “Because she has loved you for years!”- Rossi really wanted to smack Reid now- “Every time she asked you if she could borrow your scarf, or your sweater, or whatever, she was saying “Hey, Reid, I love you, and I wish I could have you wrapped around me the whole day, so I’m gonna pretend to be cold so I can borrow this and feel you near.” 

Suddenly, it all made sense to Spencer. 

It had been a hard case. (Y/N) had spent a lot of time with the families of the victims. She was clearly affected by everything that had happened. She hadn’t slept in two whole days. Her eyes were watered up even before they started arguing. 

- “Shit!!”- he sort of yelled and held his head with both hands. 

- “Yeah”- Derek tapped on his back again and sighed- “You fucked it up, pretty boy”

- “I have to apologize! I have to call her!”

- “I’m gonna go get us another round”- Rossi stood up and walked to the bar. 

- “She ain’t picking the phone!!”- Reid kept dialing over and over again. Derek shook his head and finished his beer. 

- “You should wait until she cools off a little bit. Talking to her now is going to start another argue”

- “I don’t wanna argue anymore!! I wanna tell her I love her!” 

- “Kid, drunk confessing you love her might not be the most romantic way to do it”

Though Morgan was worried about his friend, he knew everything was going to solve. It wasn’t really a huge fight. But he didn’t want Reid to confess to (Y/N) he loved her while he was drunk. He knew it was a big deal for Reid, and he wanted to do it right. 

And Spencer was wasted and desperate. An awful mix. 

- “Hey Rossi, what are you eating?”- Derek saw the SSA chewing something as he walked over with another round of drinks. 

- “These girls at the bar have delicious brownies. They have been sharing them with me each time I got us drinks”- Morgan wide opened his eyes. 

- “Brownies?”

- “Yeah, they said it was their special recipe, and let me tell you, they are good. I haven’t eaten special brownies in a long, long time”- and Rossi just smiled

- “Wait, you knew what you were getting into with those brownies?”- Morgan chuckled

- “I’m old, not stupid… and right now, I’m high”

Spencer kept dialing, and (Y/N) wasn’t answering. He drank his whiskey and was ready for the next, while Morgan kept laughing at Rossi, he was too high. And it was funny, but a little disturbing at the same time. 

- “Have you noticed how the unsubs are usually white males in their mid-twenties to thirties?”- Rossi was looking at his hands, analyzing everything around him. 

- “Why is it always the same age? did they put something in the milk back in the eighties?”- Derek laughed, but Spencer didn’t even move. 

- “Hey, kid, drop the phone, enjoy the present”- Rossi waved at Reid- “You are never into the phone, why now?”

- “(Y/N) is mad, I need to go there and tell her I’m sorry”- the young doctor grabbed his jacket and satchel and tried to walk fast, but the room was spinning. 

- “Alright, let’s go then”- Rossi stood up too and forced Derek to do the same

- “Wait, what are you two planning to do going to (Y/N)’s in the middle of the night?”- Morgan questioned as he followed them on their way out. 

- “Yeah… Rossi… what are we going to do?”- drunk Spencer asked, confused. 

- “You are going to ask her to forgive you”- Rossi simply replied and stopped a taxi. 

- “Right… but she doesn’t want to talk to me”

- “Then serenade her, bro.” 

It was now a fact. Derek Morgan was never going to forget that night. 

Spencer, Rossi, and Morgan stood outside (Y/N)’s apartment at two in the morning. She lived on the third floor. That was meant to go wrong. 

- “Ok, kid, you need to go for a classic Tony Bennet’s forgiveness song”- Rossi commanded and waited for Spencer to say something. 

- “I don’t know any of those”

- “Which Bennet’s song do you know?”- but Spencer just shrugged

- “Which song do you know? any song,”- Morgan asked, hoping to get a useful answer. 

Reid tried to think for a minute. It took him longer than usual to concentrate, ‘cos he was too drunk and nervous. 

- “Come on, kid, it’s not that hard”- Rossi tried to help- “Let’s stick with the classics… Sinatra?”

- “I think I know a part of Under my skin,” would that work?”- Spencer whispered. Morgan took out his phone and googled the lyric. 

- “That’s perfect, kid, now go!”

But Spencer didn’t even open his mouth. Derek and Rossi looked at him, and he just panicked. 

- “I can’t do this”- he murmured embarrassedly

- “I promise, if you do this, you are getting laid tonight”- Morgan assured, and somehow, that was all the encouragement Reid needed. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and simply sang. 

- “I’ve got you under my skin. I’ve got you deep in the heart of me. So deep in my heart that you’re really a part of me. I’ve got you under my skin”

- “Louder!”- Rossi commanded

- “I’d tried so not to give in. I said to myself, “This affair never will go so well”- Spencer snapped his fingers, trying to follow the rhythm and looked at Morgan’s phone, reading the lyric. 

(Y/N) opened her eyes, confused. She was sure she could hear Spencer singing, she recognized his voice, but there was no way on earth he would be singing outside her apartment, right?

Right?

She walked and opened the window. There he was, drunk with Rossi and Morgan, who were now singing along with him. 

- “I would sacrifice anything come what might, for the sake of having you near. In spite of the warning voice that comes in the night. And repeats, how it yells in my ear”. 

- “Shut up!!”- someone shouted from another apartment, and (Y/N) wide opened her eyes in shock. 

- “Spencer!! what the fuck are you doing?”

- “I wanted to apologize for being an asshole! I’m sorry! You needed comfort, and I ignored it. I’m sorry”

- “Good one, kid”- Morgan whispered, tapping on his back- “Now go and have make-up sex with your girl!”

- “Can I come in?”- Reid asked, and (Y/N) nodded. She knew it had been a silly fight after all, and that serenade had been heart-melting

- “Thank you guys”- Reid said and waved, running to the building’s door. 

- “That kid is the worst singer I’ve ever heard”- Derek chuckled and turned to David. He was staring at his hands again, in a deep silence- “Ok Rossi, now let’s take you home. You are too high to go alone.”

- “Can we stop for a burger first? I’m so fucking hungry”

- “Sure, hey, did those girls give you some of that brownie to go?”

- “Sorry, but next time, I’ll save some for you.” 

[feliix]

Mine ✦ JHS (18+)

✦  Pairing: Werewolf!Hoseok x Reader ✦ Word count: 3.6k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship!au, werewolf!au

✦  Summary: It’s your boyfriend Hoseok’s first time in heat, and as much as you’ve prepared yourself for this moment you’d never expect it to go like this.

✦  Warnings: explicit smut, heat sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dom!hoseok, oral: female receiving, dirty talk, rough sex, impregnation kink, breeding kink, hobi is possessive af, knotting, creampie, marking, blood play, praise kink, aftercare,

✦ Requested by this anon ‘Hoseok x reader werewolf alpha heat with human mate? First time experiencing his heat and his knot?’ this anon: ‘May I request for the drinks and Drabbles, Hobi + cocktail. (Lmfao this is gonna be a lot, you don’t need to do all, whatever you feel inspired by {love you}; dom Hobi, spanking, creampie, fingering, toys, pet names)’ and sweet beanie @jintobean​‘ahem. pls might i order some hot coco hoseok it can have some nsfw idc i just need my heart to burst pls and thank’

✦  A/N: another episode of i try to write a drabble but it turns into a oneshot :)))) tagging my bby @hobiance​ for the much needed encouragement and werewolf hobi love♡ also this is my first actual werewolf smut please be nice and beta read by the wonderful, amazing and life saving @ally-127​

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​ 

read part two here 

You had no idea what you were anticipating as you got home from work today. Before you had left Hobi was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn't himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something was wrong, and before you had even gone on lunch you received a text from your boyfriend.

Hobi: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in heat

There was no time to think about the next course of action, it was clear what you had to do. The next thing you knew you were in your bosses office, telling her that you were beginning to feel ill and that you’d be taking the rest of the day off.

He could smell that you were home before you had even walked through your front door. Hobi’s senses were mad, higher than he had ever experienced before. 

To put it lightly, you were worried. You had never experienced a werewolf in heat before, only heard about it from the older boys and their girlfriends in passing. But now there was no time to ask questions. Hobi was in heat and you’d have to figure it out together.

Muffled moans traveled throughout the apartment as Hobi ached in pain in your bedroom. Concern immediately flooded your system, not knowing if you should rush over to check on him or take things slow. The groaning only gets louder as you approach the bedroom door, pressing your ear up to the door to try and make out the slur of words coming from his mouth.

“Y/N?” He nearly cries as he senses your presence, the smell of you awakening senses he didn’t even know he had. 

Slowly, you turn the handle of the door to reveal yourself to him.

He’s in pain, lying in a pool of his own sweat as a dewy sheen glistens over his body. The only thing covering him is a pair of cotton underwear. They were the only thing soft and breathable enough that he could stand to have on his body, unlike the other clothes torn into shreds that he ripped off earlier. Hopefully he can hold back from treating yours in the same way – you really like the blouse you have on today.

As you see him curled up on the bed you can’t help but become worried for his current state. His face is scrunched in agony, soft groans leaving his lips between each labored breath. Slowly, you make your way over to him, careful not to move too quickly and startle his instincts.

You can only imagine the pain he's gone through over the past few hours. Knowing he's broken every bone in his body to turn, over and over again. Finally that part was over for now, but the everlasting ache of his muscles is still no match for his oncoming heat.

“It hurts,” he moans as his arms cup his sides roughly, rocking back and forth in attempts to relieve some of the pain. You can feel the heat radiating off his body from a foot away.

Instinctively, your hand reaches out to stroke his arm, the hairs standing up as his body shivers in a cold sweat. And then you notice it. The way his nostrils flare and exhale thickly as his eyes begin to glow an amber and gold hue. Your touch comforted him yet riled him up all at once, his wolf wholly and completely awake now that your skin was on his.

His eyes lock on you intently, a deep message hidden behind in his stare – almost like he was going to swallow you whole. You know what he needed. By the bulge in his pants to the look in his eyes you can tell it's you he wants – the only thing he needs at this moment, and you are ready for it.

You already know what you were getting yourself into when you began dating a wolf. It was only a matter of time before your sex life did a 180, and no, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect but today was the day that you’d finally understand what this was all about.

Like a second wind had taken over him, Hobi sits up in the bed, his posture firm and his muscles straining as he holds himself from grabbing you by the waist and mounting you at that moment. He’s waiting for reassurance from you, holding onto every ounce of strength he has before moving an inch.

And so you reach out to him again, bending at the waist as you place your arms on his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m ready,” is all you have to say for him to know, and then he’s scooping you up with his supernatural strength to lay you on the bed.

Without missing a beat, Hobi’s fingers are looping through the sides of your underwear and ripping them down your legs. Surprisingly, you are a lot less nervous than you had expected to be. Maybe because you know how much pain he is in from holding himself back, and all you want is to finally satisfy his wolf that has been eating away at him for so long.

Your sweet scent fills his nostrils as he moves closer to your cunt. Closing his eyes, he basks in your scent – your scent overtaking him stronger than ever before. With deep inhale, he nestles his nose against your core, admiring the way you smelled before extending his tongue to lap at your slit. Immediately, your body jerks in reaction to his touch, the sensitivity of your clit being tested by his quick and frivolous motions.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles against your inner thigh, making your body jerk at the vibration of his lips. His ministrations are much more impactful than before; this time he's hungry for it, dying to satisfy an itch that was nearly impossible to scratch.

Soon his hands are prying your legs as far apart as they could go, shoving his face into your center and devouring any juices that slipped past your entrance. Even though you had done this a hundred times, it felt different. He was driven by hunger, his actions quick and frivolous to ready you for his length. It was different but it was intentional; his sole purpose backing each and every flick of his tongue.

Moans pass his lips as they wrap around your clit, sucking harshly. Involuntarily your hips buck towards him, unable to control your own actions from the pleasure his mouth is bringing you. You can tell that he likes it by the way his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you down as his tongue flicks past your entrance and into your velvety walls.

A string of curses leave your lips as your body is rendered immobile, unable to move from the way he’s holding your legs to the bed. He’s ravenous – his nose pressing roughly into your clit as his tongue explores your sex. As much as he wants to be gentle he can’t; his wolf sending each of his senses into overdrive with each drip of arousal that lands on his tongue.

He’s moving so quickly that you can’t subdue your quickly approaching high. Any tug at his hair only makes him move faster, bringing you closer and closer to ecstasy at an alarming rate.

“Hobi,” you cry out, “I’m gonna cum if you keep at it like that.”

He doesn’t respond to you with words, only squeezes your thighs to acknowledge you. He’s too busy devouring your pussy to come up for air. Your words only make him move faster and more desperately, your high coming to a peak as he flattens his tongue across your slit. You take a quick glimpse of his amber eyes before he squeezes them shut, feverishly indulging in your release, licking it up as if his life depended on it.

By now a layer of perspiration has coated your body, the silky fabric of your blouse sticking to your skin. But Hobi isn’t done – things are just getting started.

Retreating from his spot between your legs, he sits back on his heels, wiping any left over arousal coating his chin with the back of his hand. He’s still hungry – the squint of his eyes and the determined look on his face told you so. Heat coursed through your veins as you waited for him to make his next move. He was trying to be patient, trying to let you recover for a moment before he got back to business, but you knew what he wanted.

In the interest of time you remove your own shirt, sitting up on the bed to throw the garment to the side and unclip your bra. His hungry eyes take in your nude figure as he moves forward to push you back onto the mattress. Your body relaxes as his lips connect to a sweet spot on your neck, sucking on it harshly, sure to leave a mark for tomorrow.

You arch your back in response as his lips begin to trail down your chest. A line of wet kisses is left behind as he makes his way down to one of your breasts, taking it in his mouth and circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. His teeth brush gently across your nipple, the sensation of his growing canines scraping against it breaking goosebumps against your skin.

Every day since he first turned has been leading up to this moment. Waiting out each passing moment for a sign of carnal instincts to over take him. Over the past few days you’d just brushed off his overly clingy demeanor, assuming it was just him growing into himself as a wolf. His suspicious and on-edge behavior went completely overlooked. You didn’t expect Hobi’s first heat to come on so soon after turning, but alas, here you were.

Hobi’s hands grab a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent and the knees with your ass on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long digits trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. You can only imagine the restraint he is holding onto at this moment. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened member into you, but he knows that your human body is not meant to handle what is coming for you.

Hobi’s eye’s screw shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Hobi out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. He’s sizing you up, wondering if you’d be able to accommodate his new size. It worries him deeply, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he knew once he started he wouldn’t be able to control himself like he normally could. You needed to do something, say something to help settle the internal warfare consuming his mind.

“I’m ready, Hoseok.”

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coats your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, surprised at this new sensation. His size is bigger than you’d ever taken before, so much thicker and longer than his normal length. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size.

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Hobi begins thrusting his hips slowly  into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, the only thing giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, canines prominent in his bite, “need to breed you now.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as his words meet your ears. 

You’d never had serious baby talk before let alone tried for one. It was his primal instincts talking, you were sure of it. But even if it wasn't there was no turning back now. He was losing control and he was losing it quickly.

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to, but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Hobi thrusts in and out of your effortlessly, your abundance of arousal coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls to make a sound. A loud leaves you lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his canines. It doesn’t hurt like you’d expect it too, or maybe you’re too caught up in his throbbing shaft plunging into you to notice if it does.

“Taking me so well.”

His praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Hobi I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your neck as he sucks harshly on it. You can feel his canines scraping against your soft skin, itching to break the flesh and claim you. It’s what he’d always wanted – having you here like this just makes it all the more enticing.

A string of cuss words fall from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, need to make you mine.”

You knew what this means. You knew you already were his, just not in that way yet. He was holding onto every last ounce of strength to stop himself from biting, from sinking his teeth into your precious skin and claiming you as his mate. It was painful for him to keep at it like this, and you didn’t have any second thoughts before saying it.

“Do it, Hoseok,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “claim me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his canines sink into your skin. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, praying for the awful sensation to but cut short and pleasure to take over. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“Mine.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, having never felt as close to him than you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Hoseok binding to eternity and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating on thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him claiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Hobi,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Hobi it hurts.”

“Its almost over baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine lets you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his lupine senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his wolf was telling him to do then so be it.

As Hobi’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, now forming into a dark scar to let everyone know you were his. Its crazy how just one bite felt like it could change the entire dynamic of your relationship. You were his now, and he was yours. Forever.

“Hobi?”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, refraining from letting his mouth leave your skin.

“Did you mean that thing you said,” your lip worries between your teeth before you can finish your question, wondering if he even remembers anything that happened or if his wolf took everything over.

“What thing?”

“The thing about breeding me?” Your eyes slam shut to brace yourself from the answer.

“Yes,” he sighs out nonchalantly, like he isn’t admitting that his intentions were to get you pregnant.

“Yes?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he presses a chaste kiss between your shoulder blades before pulling out. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss of contact, not sure if you were relieved that he was no longer inside you or not. “Of course I want you to have my pups.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks beautiful. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them like he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s bound to you now, willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the amber in his eyes now faded back to the chocolatey brown color you love so much.

“And I love that you’re mine.”

‘Mine’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[beelsnack]

Obey Me! Boys and the Cute Date They Would Take MC On

Lucifer: “I feel like I don’t belong here.”

When Lucifer had mentioned that an orchestra was going to be performing, they had been so excited to go that they nearly vibrated out of existence. But now that they were here, that excitement had morphed into a heavy lump of anxiety hanging out somewhere between their heart and stomach.

Lucifer glanced down at the human with a raised eyebrow. “And what in the Three Realms would make you think that?”

For a moment, they were quiet, looking around at the crowd of demons dressed to the nines. Elegant silk evening gowns and smart tuxedos abound. Their black slacks and dress shirt made them feel so under-dressed that they might as well have shown up naked.

Lucifer, sharp as ever, pulled them closer and leaned down the speak in their ear. “You needn’t feel intimidated, my dear.”

“I don’t feel intimidated, I feel stupid.”

“That isn’t any better.”

They sighed, casting another look around the hall. Golden mantle pieces, an elegantly-winding staircase, chandeliers absolutely dripping with crystals...everything made them feel incredibly insignificant.

“Should I have gotten more dressed up?”

Lucifer chuckled. “So that’s what has you worried?” 

He lead them away from the entrance into the hall proper. “All of these demons are dressed the way they are because they must work at being beautiful. You, my dear,” he stopped in front of them, reaching down to carefully hold the peacock pendent hanging from their neck - the only piece of jewelry they wore. “Are the only one who is naturally radiant enough to wear my symbol. These peasants could turn themselves into pure gold and they would only shine half as bright as you do.”

They could feel their face grow hot enough to catch fire. They opened and closed their mouth like a fish, intent on refuting Lucifer’s compliment, but he gave them no option. With a deep laugh that they felt travel up their spine, he offered his arm to them in a move straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

“Now then, shall we go? You’ll love this orchestra, I promise.”

Mammon: “I can’t believe there’s street fairs in the Devildom!”

It was surprisingly similar to something you would see up in the Human Realm. Strings of fairy lights lit up the cobblestone street that was lined with all kinds of stalls. Food stalls selling a variety of things that probably shouldn’t be deep fried but are anyway, games of chance, craftsman selling their wares - “Don’t buy anything from that one, all of their crap is cursed and they charge a fee for removal.” 

“Come on,” Mammon clicked his tongue as the two of them wandered throughout the fair. “Did’ja think the Devildom was all doomed souls and torture chambers?”

“...Yes?”

The demon paused before shrugging. “Ya know, that’s fair. But we have an image to keep, don’t we? Can’t have the little humans knowin’ about our bitchin’ carnivals.”

“I’ll take the secret to my grave.” 

Somewhere a little down the street, they could hear the spinning of a roulette wheel, and Mammon immediately perked up. 

“Aw yeah, now we’re talking! Come on, human, you get to see the Great Mammon in all of his glory!”

A thin spike of fear ran through their body as Mammon grabbed their wrist and tugged them through the crowd. “Didn’t Lucifer ban you from gambling? Like, forever?”

“Whatever, what he don’t know won’t hurt ‘im,” they finally reached the roulette booth. “As long as I don’t lose and you don’t squeal, we don’t have anything to worry about!”

“Mammon, there’s a big, gaping hole in your logic there - “

“Have a little faith, human!” Mammon grinned and he slapped some Grimm down on the counter. The glint in his eyes was damn near predatory, and it sent a different kind of shiver down their spine.

The demon behind the counter chuckled gleefully as they spun the wheel. The crowd surrounding them hooted and hollered and shoved each other to be able to watch the wheel, but Mammon looked surprisingly calm. He stood with his arms crossed, eyes trained on the pointer at the top of the wheel.

If they hadn’t been standing right next to him, they wouldn’t have noticed him rhythmically tapping against the sleeve of his jacket.

It was almost imperceptible, but the clicking of the wheel appeared to be following the beat that Mammon was tapping, slowing as the pauses between beats got longer. Eventually, both Mammon and the wheel stopped...

Right on the number he had bet on.

The crowd groaned as Mammon collected his winnings, some hissing at him as they dispersed. The Avatar of Greed looked truly in his element as he flipped a Grimm in the air. “Told ya.”

“You were...using magic?” the human looked back and forth between the wheel and Mammon. “You manipulated the wheel.”

“Aw, man, I was hoping you wouldn’t catch that.” he sighed, pocketing his earnings. “Can’t ya just pretend I have incredible luck?”

“I will if you buy me food.”

“Deal.”

Leviathan: Going to the arcade on a Wednesday at noon was definitely one of Levi’s best ideas.

“Why does your aim suck so bad?”

“Oh, you are SO lucky this game doesn’t have friendly fire, Levi.”

“You couldn’t hit me even if it did.”

They were standing close enough that it wasn’t difficult for them to learn over and bump him with their shoulder. His grip on the orange plastic gun slipped and the virtual bullet went flying off into cyberspace. By the time he managed to correct himself, the zombie he had been aiming for was in the process of devouring the character on screen.

“Hey, what gives?!”

“Oops, sorry. My aim really sucks, you know.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

Despite their dirty tactics, Levi still wiped the floor with them, cackling gleefully as their scores tallied up on the screen. "Beat that, normie!"

They pouted and blew a raspberry at him. "Jerk. I want a rematch!"

"You're on!"

Satan: If they hadn’t been in the Devildom for so long, they probably would have been scared out of their mind.

That being said, they had been in the Devildom for a while, and seeing an intricately detailed panorama of a demon cat devouring a person alive was only a little unsettling at this point.

“Wow, that must have taken a while,” they got up closer to the exhibit. “It’s like I can hear the screams of agony.”

“Apparently the artist spent a century just on the expression,” Satan came up behind them, slipping his hand into theirs. “It shows, doesn’t it?”

The Devildom Art Museum was having a special exhibition on Demonic cats, and of course Satan had managed to snag tickets for the two of them. They didn’t particularly want to know how he had managed that.

“So, where to next?” they asked.

“The next room has a collection of cursed cat collars.” Satan nodded his head towards the door. “Apparently there’s one that causes whoever puts the collar on their cat to choke to death.”

“Okay, but if there are any there that harm the cats we’re firebombing the place.”

Asmodeus: “See, I told you this place was cute!”

He hadn’t been lying. The little cafe was tucked into a little side street, and the outside seating provided one of the best views of the lake that they had seen aside from being inside the castle grounds. The moons were just beginning to appear as they sky transitioned from the dark lavender color that served as the Devildom’s “day time” into full darkness, and the reflection from the lake made everything sparkle like diamonds.

“How did you even find this place, Asmo?” they asked as they were seated by the host. “This is pretty hidden.”

“Didn’t you know, darling?” Asmo laughed, reaching across the table to weave their hands together. “Some of the most beautiful things can be found in the strangest of places.”

“That’s pretty, but it doesn’t answer my question.”

“I slept with the owner’s son.”

They couldn’t hold back the definitely-not-cute snort. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“I never pass up an opportunity to fuck someone who can cook.” he said sagely. “I want to be fed before I have to do my walk of shame.”

“Don’t you have to have shame for that?”

“Hush,” Asmo giggled. “Here, they have a human-safe section.”

Beelzebub: “I don’t know, Beel, this place, seems awful expensive.”

The conversion rate between human currency and Grimm sometimes threw them off a little bit, but anytime you say three zeroes it was never a good sign.

“Does it?” Beel glanced up from the menu to look at them quizzically before peeking down at the prices again. “Ah, I guess it would. You don’t have to worry, I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not - “

The server arrived, cutting off their protest. From the sheen of sweat on their brow, the human took it that the staff knew Beelzebub and his famous appetite. Even just the appetizer was enough to feed a whole family. When the waiter finally turned to them, he had to flip over to a new page in his pad. He looked rather relieved when they simply ordered water and fried bat wings (which they had discovered early on tasted a lot like chicken wings and it was therefore their go to.)

When the server dashed off to place their massive order, Beel turned back to the human. “What were you saying?”

“I don’t...” they sighed. “I won’t be able to pay you back.”

“Why would you have to?”

They blinked, tilting their head. “Huh?”

“I don’t mind paying. Plus, I get a discount here.”

The human glanced around the fancy dining area. “This doesn’t look like the place to give out discounts.”

“A lot of places give me and my brothers discounts. Well, Mammon lost a few of his, I think.”  Beel shrugged. “I think it’s because we’re considered nobility? I usually leave the discount as a tip though.”

That explained the grin the host had on their face when they sat them.

They smiled up at him. “You’re so sweet, Beel.”

Belphegor: Nights in the Devildom were surprisingly peaceful.

Once you got past the ideas of torture chambers and crypts, the nights were just like ones up in the Human Realm. Quiet, lazy, and on clear nights, you could see the stars.

“Do you know what that one is?”

The human followed where Belphegor was pointing. “Hm...Orion?”

“Ding.” Belphie laughed. “I knew you would be good at this.”

In typical Belphie fashion, he had texted them out of the blue and told them to meet him in the courtyard at midnight. They thought about just ignoring him and going to sleep, but now they were curious. Which was probably the demon’s plan.

When they arrived, Belphie was laying down on a blanket he had spread out on the grass.

“Took you long enough,” he yawned. “I almost fell asleep waiting for you.”

“It’s only 12:02!”

“Bold of you to assume I can’t fall asleep in two minutes. Are you going to sit down or what?”

And that was how the two of them ended up cuddled next to each other and stargazing.

Belphie knew a surprising amount about constellations.He was able to point out which star was named what, and knew most of the myths that the constellations were named after. Unsurprisingly, listening to him talk was very soothing, and they could feel their eyelids drooping.

“If you want to sleep, you can.” he finally murmured, sounding close to drifting off himself. “We can keep each other warm.”

“...I don’t think Lucifer would appreciate finding us passed out on the lawn.”

“All the more reason to do it.”

[aipilosse]

I don't know if you're still doing the ask prompts, but I saw you'd already filled the one I'd put for Mae Squared before so I thought I'd pick a different one so you didn't have to do the same one twice. I was thinking maybe 15? But only if you're still doing them/want to! Thanks for all the lovley writing you give to the fandom!

Yes I am! My first attempt at Maedhros/Sauron AKA Mae Squared, and the prompt ‘Out of your element’ from this prompt list. Rated Teen or so for, ya know, Angband.

There were so many different layers of misery in Angband. 

There was the misery of torture of course, of having the flesh torn from his back with spiked whips until he passed out from blood loss, only to have the whips brought out again when he was half healed. There was the horrible pain of glowing metal set to his flesh until he thought his bones must be singed, all the while his tormenters asked for answers he did not know and had never known. There was the misery of constant humiliation, sometimes as a method of torment, but also the just the daily degradation as he was denied clothes and the filth on his body built up, until he felt lower than a worm. 

He also learned that misery could be delivered just as well through neglect. At first, he thought he could bear hunger, but as the years passed and he saw his body waste before his eyes, the gnawing pain in his gut became harder and harder to bear. The pain of thirst moved faster; he soon learned that even if he had been allowed a cup of bitter, oily water, in just a few hours Maitimo’s throat would be burning. He would wait for days with his awful thirst in whatever position he had been chained in, the ache in his joints and the cramps in his muscles growing into agony.

Misery sank into his bones, until it seemed to encompass his past, his present, and his future. When they came to unchain him from the horrible crouch he had been kept in for several days, Maitimo felt a brief moment of relief despite the more logical part of his mind that told him he was being released only for further pain. The four orcs sent to escort him had to drag him; his legs refused to move after being locked in place for so long.

When the walls changed from the rough texture of the caves he was usually moved between to smooth dark stone, Maitimo felt his dread grow. The only time he was taken this far above ground was when he was taken to Morgoth, and that was the worst misery by far in Angband. The Vala’s piercing eyes and terrible burning spirit seemed able to torment his mind as much as whips tormented his body.

He wasn’t brought to the throne room. Instead, they stopped in front of a pair of iron bound double doors.

“We have a guest for Lord Mairon,” one of the orcs said.

The guard at the door peered at him suspiciously. “My lord did not tell me he was expecting any visitors.”

“Order from the Mighty One,” the orc replied.

“He’s not going to like this,” the guard warned, but rapped on the door with his spear anyway.

“What?” The flat question came from inside the room.

“Lord Melkor has sent you a visitor.”

There was a sound that seemed penetrate Maitimo’s very being; whatever was on the other side of that door wasn’t pleased. “Make it quick.”

Maitimo didn’t know what he expected as he was dragged through the door, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. The floor was carpeted, the plush surface unbelievably soft against feet that had only felt stone for years. The room was diffused with light, the soft glow of candles magnified by crystals and colored glass. The large room seemed to be divided into different purposes — Maitimo could have sworn he saw goldsmithing tools at a workbench and another corner with glass containers filled with multi-colored liquids — before he was thrown to the ground.

“Kneel,” snarled the orc, as if it was possible for Maitimo to do anything else. He bowed to Mairon. “The Mighty One says you must interrogate him.”

“Oh really? I must interrogate him? As if I have nothing better to do with my time than question a useless prisoner? I suppose requisitions, excavations, and the logistics of arming our entire host is not enough?” Mairon’s low musical voice was at odds with the sharp sarcasm of his tone. Maitimo watched his guards shuffle awkwardly from his spot on the ground.

“Get out. And if you breathe a word of what I said, I will slowly boil you from the inside out.” The orcs beat a hasty retreat, and then they were alone. Maitimo didn’t look up; whatever horrors were in store for him would happen whatever he did.

“Well, have a seat, I’ll get to you in a moment.” That at least grabbed Maitimo’s attention. He peered up from his spot on the floor. Mairon wasn’t looking at him at all; his entire focus was on whatever he was writing. Maitimo almost gasped out loud; Mairon was stunning. Red hair, a deeper shade than any he had seen tumbled around his shoulders. The golden flame of his eyes was mesmerizing. Maitimo swallowed; he already felt horribly out of place and filthy in the rich, pristine chambers. Now he felt like a twisted creature compared to the being before him. 

But he had been asked to take a seat. Earlier, he would have fought even the smallest order in Angband, but now he knew there was no point in resisting this reasonable request. Better to save his energy for the actual questioning. Maitimo crawled to the chair, and pulled himself onto it. He winced as he sat down. His back and buttocks were still only partially healed from the last time he had been whipped, but the flinch was more so at the thought of his filthy skin touching the elegant upholstery. 

Mairon didn’t look up through the whole laborious process. He appeared to be filling in some sort of grid, carefully writing figures and occasionally tallying up the columns. Finally he looked up.

“So you are the High King of the Noldor?” He sounded bored.

“I was. I am not king of much here.” Maitimo met Mairon’s eyes, trying not to be the cringing thing he could feel himself becoming. 

“Hm, so I am to interrogate you. Are they still asking you about silima?”

“Among other things,” Maitimo said cautiously.

“I already know the size of your army, how they are armed, what they have gained, what they still lack, where you are camped, the messages that have been exchanged with the local Sindar, and who now calls himself the High King. I’m sure I know more than you at this point about the Noldor on these shores.” Mairon sighed heavily. “But I shall question you nonetheless. How did Fëanáro create the Silmarils?”

“I don’t know,” Maitimo said, reflexive terror closing around his throat and making his voice shake.

“Why did Fëanáro burn the ships?”

“To prevent anyone from fleeing, and from his half-brother from joining us.” He had agonized over letting that information slip, but it had spilled out some time ago. In the end he wasn’t sure how much it mattered. Morgoth already knew of the strife between Fëanáro and Nolofinwë; he had helped sow it. At least Maitimo had not spoken of the kinslaying.

“Anything else you wish to share?” Mairon absently flicked a contraption on his desk, setting off a tinkling cascade of chimes.

“No.”

“Well, that was a very productive conversation, a good use of time for us both.”

Maitimo felt a huff of air leave him, something like a laugh. “This is the best use of my time since I arrived.”

A corner of Mairon’s mouth rose. “I suppose it is.” He drummed his fingers against the desk. “Nelyafinwë, do you like games?”

“Yes,” said Maitimo hesitantly. 

“The only thing that’s enjoyed by folk here is base gambling. A good wager can be entertaining, but only for a moment.” Mairon carefully set the ledger to the side. “The numbers are as good as they are going to get until Langon sends his update.” Mairon stood and returned with two goblets. He handed one to Maitimo. Maitimo sniffed it suspiciously. 

“It’s water.”

After a cautious sip, Maitimo began to drink greedily, the cool, clean water soothing his parched throat and tasting sweeter than any nectar.

“If you throw up, I am expelling you immediately.” 

Maitimo reluctantly lowered the goblet, and saw a board with many glittering pieces had appeared on the desk. 

“So, you are the silver pieces, I am the gold,” Mairon began. Maitimo tried to focus on the rules, his mind still reeling from the unexpected, if temporary, relief from torment and his surprisingly charming host.

[philliamwrites]

compromissum

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Xiao/Aether

Tags: #blood, #angst, #hurt and comfort

Words: 2.5k

Summary: [lat. compromissum: “mutual promise”] In which Xiao has made his very own contract with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

Commissioner: CrystalNines

Notes: I swear, one day I'll learn how to write happy endings.

compromissum

     All is quiet. The shack hiding in the shadow of a cliff is abandoned and left to rot, its wood mouldy and old. No one has been here for a quite a long while and no one desires to visit this forsaken place tugged away in a corner of Qingxu Pool. Then, a figure breaks through the roof, destroying half of its construction.

    All air is knocked out of Xiao’s lungs as he slams onto the ground, but there is no time to catch his breath. He rolls to the side not a moment too late before a Geovishap drops through the opening in the roof and smashes into the ground right where he was laying seconds ago. It snarls, showing a row of razor sharp, enormous teeth the size of Xiao’s lower arm. The corner of Xiao’s mouth twitches as if to reply by bearing his own teeth.

    Blood, warm and wet, runs down his arm, making his grip around his polearm slippery and he shakes his head to clear the dizziness from the Geovishap’s blow earlier. There’s shouting from somewhere above his head, voices echoing over the valley with fear and worry palpable Xiao tries to ignore. He doesn’t need anyone to look after him. So many years have passed where he was out on the hunt by himself without anyone watching his back.

    But there’s one voice he’s learnt to pick out from a crowd, one that no matter when and where lures Xiao in even at a time like this when he’s facing a thirty-thousand-pound monster that can easily break his spine.

    The Geovishap charges. Xiao uses the end of his polearm to gain additional height and jump over it, its amber horn almost grazing the tip of his foot. Before the monster can turn, Xiao lunges forward, his polearm raised to strike and unbalance it, so he’d get access to the soft skin of its belly. But the Geovishap is surprisingly fast for something this big and sturdy, and it whirls around, smashing a giant fist, hard as rock, into Xiao’s side and he cries out, feeling his ribs break. Pain like someone split his side open bare-handed sears through him as he’s thrown against a wall and crumbles to the ground. Black dots dance across his blurred vision and the taste of iron fills his mouth. He spits out blood, his arms trembling from the effort to get back up.

    A shooting star crashes into the Geovishap—no, not a star. Aether. He plunges through the broken roof, fire blazing in his golden eyes as he brings his sword down on the reptilian creature in a single, deadly strike. The Geovishap roars a last time, then falls into himself and remains lifeless n the dirty shack’s ground.

    In his long life, Xiao has gotten used to seeing creatures lose their lives, often by his own hand, but it never ceased to make him wonder how something this big and wild a second ago becomes an empty shell, void of life—how easy and fast, seamless, the transition from alive to dead is. How nothing in this world cares about technicalities like good or evil for all is equal in death.

    In front of him is Aether, beautiful Aether with his sword still raised, its tip glinting in the setting sun like freshly tempered iron in heavenly fire. The sight reminds Xiao of this creature he’s read about a long time ago: Angels, they are called, that descend upon the mortal ground to bring justice in the name of something holier than them. Looking at Aether now, Xiao doesn’t struggle to imagine such a creature—the warm, red horizon illuminates his golden hair. A halo.

    Someone places a small hand tentatively on Xiao’s wounded shoulder and he recoils, finally tearing his gaze away from too beautiful Aether.

    “This looks bad,” Barbara says. For someone looking this frail, her grip is firm, and she doesn’t allow Xiao to wiggle out. “Let me take a closer look.”

    Xiao hisses, “No need.” It takes effort to get back on his feet, his muscles scream in protest but everything in him refuses to appear weak. “We still have one bounty left.”

    “Forget the bounty,” Aether cuts in, sharper than his sword’s edge. He closes the distance in a few strides and ignoring Xiao’s protests, Aether slides one arm around his waist and ducks under Xiao’s arm to steady him. “We’re going back to camp,” he declares and looks around, at Barbara and at Amber whose eyes are big and round with worry. No one objects.

    Except Xiao.

    “I’m fine.”

    “I don’t know what ‘fine’ meant for you back in your time but nowadays it doesn’t mean what you are right now.”

    “I am well aware of its meaning—” Xiao hisses when Aether leans a little too much into his hurt side.

    “Yeah,” Aether deadpans. “This sure looks fine.”

    Xiao can’t remember a time Aether has ever talked to him like that: Cold, dismissive, sneering almost. Not soft, kind Aether who starts to cry whenever one of Amber’s stray arrows accidentally hits a squirrel and they spend the afternoon burying it under a pine tree. This Aether doesn’t spare him another glance. He helps Xiao all the way to their campsite hidden inside a little cavern with a grim expression, his mouth pressed together into a thin line.

    When they finally reach their camp, Xiao disentangles from Aether and retreats to a corner further inside the cavern where a boar’s hide is laid out on the ground as a makeshift bed. It was easier to ignore his wounds with adrenaline pumping through his body but as it always does, the pain catches up to him in the end and leaves him paralysed with agony. When he lays down, slowly and carefully, gritting his teeth against any pained noise, he hears hushed whispers, his company’s mumbled conversation about him and what they’re going to do with him. Xiao doesn’t care. But this scene is familiar, and when he closes his eyes, his mind transports him to the past, to a time when the ground grew ill from soaking up too much blood and he’d lied on hard, unyielding stone that leaked grime and misery, falling into a dreamless slumber to four familiar voices.

    Xiao startles out of sleep, jolts right into awareness and almost smacks Aether across the face who dodges just in time as Xiao’s fist whirls past his jaw. They stare each other down for a long moment like two cats assessing each other to decide if they could trust each other. Eventually, Aether crouches down next to Xiao. He holds a little bamboo box in his hand and Xiao can smell the distinctive bitter note of the du huang mixture Granny Ruoxin gave them as thanks for driving off Hilichurls camping in the bamboo forest at the foot of the mountain that gently cradles Qingce Village.

    “Your wound. Show me,” Aether says quietly, even though there is no need to whisper. Looking over his shoulder, Xiao doesn’t see Barbara or Amber. They’ve left camp, probably to collect some berries or fetch water from the nearby river, which means he and Aether are alone and that’s something he’s tried to avoid lately. But that isn’t right either because it feels like the absence of a magnetic centre, and without it nothing makes sense at all.

    Xiao tries to sit up, but his limbs are still sore, and he feels like someone wrung him completely dry. The pain in his shoulder is a dull throb and he feels a rib poke somewhere it shouldn’t. His breathing is shallow, but he is breathing after everything and that is enough.

    “I can take care of it myself,” he says, his voice lowered as well as if they were talking about a small animal that might flee any second. He holds his hand out to Aether who stares at it as if Xiao has grown an additional sixth finger.

    “You’ve been with us for months now,” Aether says. “Why can’t you trust us? Why can’t you trust me?”

    Xiao’s hand drops back in his lap. In his whole life the amount of people he’s trusted can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Two had slaughtered each other, one had grown mad from the burden she couldn’t carry, one had abandoned him and the last had died by the hands of those who walked on the soil he prepared for them. Trust is a fragile thing, kept locked and hidden away and not even too beautiful Aether with his eyes and hair of golden sunshine and mind of gilded kindness could bring him to trust again.

    His silence appears to be answer enough. Aether’s eyes drop to the ground, disappearing behind a thick curtain of bright lashes like the sun setting behind the distant horizon to unimaginable places. Something inside Xiao uncoils at that sight. But then Aether does what he always does, something he’s unnervingly good at: He doubles back to strike when one least expects it. His eyes rise to meet Xiao’s and with a conviction that leaves no place for doubt or objection he says, “I don’t mind waiting however long it takes. You said to speak your name and you will appear to vanquish my demons and foes. But know that when you speak my name, I will come and carry your burden.”

    “Why?” Xiao demands.

    “Why not?” Aether asks with an intensity that Xiao isn’t equipped to handle.

    He huffs a little breath of annoyance. “I am not your problem.”

    “You’re not a problem,” Aether almost snaps at him, mirroring his annoyance like a shot deflected and cast back. Something in Xiao stutters like a flame struggling against the wind that tries to extinguish it. He remembers words Rex Lapis had told him many, many years ago after he’d saved him from the hands of an evil god that had marked him with ink that would never let him forget who he once belonged to: Even after all that darkness he should never stop looking for the light in everything and everyone.

    “Because people will come, and they will teach you about love and forgiveness. But you have to let them in, Xiao. First you have to accept this slight moment of vulnerability, and then you will be rewarded with goodness. Never lock away your heart, Xiao. It pains me to think you might be all alone forever.”

    Xiao closes his eyes, conjuring Rex Lapis’ face in his mind. What he would give if only he could see him one last time.

    Aether stirs, ready to return to his side of the camp but Xiao catches his wrist. At some point during the evening, Aether has taken off his gloves and now Xiao can see a line where they would end. The skin below is slightly paler, and his fingers are long and slender, beautiful. Hands made to be captured in coal paintings, so history won’t forget them. One part of him wants to put them to his lips and worship every single digit to engrave Aether’s taste onto his tongue, the other imagines cutting them off one by one and wearing a bloody necklace of Aether’s fingers, his own good luck charm for eternity.

    Without a word, he turns around and offers Aether his wounded shoulder. Behind him, Aether is very still first. Xiao can only imagine what horrid wound Aether’s eyes lay upon: The skin parted by jagged claws, left unattended while the blood has dried on his skin. Yaksha heal faster than mortals, but they are not invulnerable or immortal. Any other person, this blow would have killed for sure.

    Then Xiao feels a cool mixture carefully applied to his wound by warm, warm hands which doesn’t surprise him. Everything about Aether is warm.

    They sit in comfortable silence, the soft crackling of the fire in the background the only sound that fills the dimly lit cavern. Shadows dance on the wall and Xiao observes them for a moment, recognising this daemon and that impure ghost from his past until they all merge into an undistinguishable shape and he closes his eyes to block them out and simply feel Aether’s careful motions, the balm slowly warming upon his skin, the pain fading until, like everything else, it becomes a memory.

    When Aether is done, his hand lingers on Xiao’s back, his fingertips slightly grazing another scar that dips just below his ribcage. Xiao’s body tells his history in scars and he can still recount which daemon left which. Mortals tell you time heals it all and soon you forget, but Xiao doesn’t, he remembers everything. Xiao remembers everything.

    He turns slowly, and finds Aether still kneeling in front of him. Trying to meet his eyes, they are so close Xiao could count every eyelash framing Aether’s round, kind eyes. He takes Aether’s hand, a small hand, studies it and intertwines their fingers as if he already misses Aether’s small hand in his palm.“

    You know I would give my life for you,” Xiao says, for his contract to protect Liyue has been terminated with Rex Lapis’ death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t set his own rules, live by his own contract.

    Something in Aether’s expression changes; an almost forlorn look but whatever he tries to find in Xiao’s face, Xiao can’t give it.

    “Xiao, we can still—” he starts, but Xiao silences him by lifting his other hand and grazing Aether’s cheek with his fingertips.

    “We already talked about this,” he says in a voice as if he’s trying to explain something to a child. “I serve, but I do not love. I cannot love for my first master has taken that ability and it was lost with his death.”

    His feelings for Aether could be love in a different world, a different time. But right here, right now, they are what is left of it; a shadow, only a memory. Desire maybe, worship, yes. But love wouldn’t leave this bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thinks of Aether. It wouldn’t.

    Aether looks gutted. His mouth twists, as if he’s trying to hold in tears; Xiao knows the feeling and he hates seeing it on Aether’s face, hates being the reason why Aether looks heartbroken, why he is heartbroken. In a different world, Xiao could be kinder to Aether and give him what he deserves. But in this, with marks upon him that will never disappear and the taste of dreams still fresh on his tongue as if he has never stopped devouring them, he is not what Aether needs.

    But he will make up for that. He will serve Aether until his dying breath and either fall in battle for him or remain by his side even as old age claims Aether, should he age like mortals do. It would be an honour to die for Aether and until that day comes, Xiao will stay by his side and only after that, he will allow himself to rest and let the kind, soft tunes of a flute carry his soul to the next world, hoping even one as tainted as his is allowed peace and respite. That is the compromise he has constructed, the contract he has agreed upon with Aether, and in Liyue, the Land of Contracts, one who breaks their contract shall suffer the Wrath of the Rock.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 1: Return to Mistward

Here we go! the first chapter of my rowan POV of Queen of Shadows! Please let me know what you think!

tw for thoughts of self harm, very minor

word count: 3832

Masterlist / Ao3 / Next Chapter 

Rowan awoke abruptly, gasping and retching over the side of the bed. Bile pooled in his throat, and it was an effort to keep from vomiting up the meager contents of his stomach onto the cold stone floors of the fortress.

It had been the dream, the same dream. The visions that had tormented him for what now felt like months – though it had barely been a week since they had begun.

Aelin on her knees. Maeve towering before her, darkness wafting in deep pools around her feet. Black iron everywhere, keeping her chained to the floor. Keeping his queen locked in place.

Lorcan and Rowan appeared beside Maeve, whips clutched between their fingers. Aelin looked at him with betrayal in her eyes, and Rowan had to watch as he and Lorcan cut her skin to ribbons. As they cut her just like the men of the salt mines had cut her. As her master had cut her.

Maeve just laughed.

And that was usually when the screaming began. They were Lyria’s screams, but they fell from Aelin’s lips.

Rowan knew they were loud, knew the sounds coming from his queen were enough to echo through the castle, to shake its very foundation. But somehow, in the dream, he felt distant. Removed from them.

The sounds of her agony brushed his face like rose petals. Like a silver mist.

Cool. Soft.

And yet they made his heart pound through his chest, hammer and chisel on stone, splintering it apart. Piece. By. Piece.

Even now, he could still feel those screams radiating through his very being. Rippling through his soul like a rung bell. It felt as though their tender sound would never leave him.

It made Rowan want to tear out his own throat.

But instead, he slowly sat up, taking in slow breath after slow breath. Trying in vain to calm his pounding blood.

Rowan had been in Mistward for eight days now. Eight long days, and eight even longer nights. And he still hadn’t gotten used to sleeping in an empty bed. He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to it again.

It felt wrong to sleep in this bed without Aelin by his side. A bed they had shared for months, long enough for Rowan to get used to balancing himself on the edge of the mattress. Long enough for him to get used to hiding his desire from her, particularly in the mornings.

Her scent still lingered, almost like a friendly ghost haunting the stone alcoves. But soon, even that would be gone. Along with her muddy boots and lent garments.

Rowan had always slept on the side of the bed facing the door, providing Aelin as much protection as he could – even in his sleep. Aelin got the window side, where often, the moonlight would stretch its fingers across her golden hair, marking it with silver.

Now, it felt like an invasion to spread out, to brush against her side of the bed. To touch her moonlight.

So Rowan kept to his edge, and let the moon mark the empty space where his Fireheart used to rest.

For a while Rowan just lay there, letting himself be completely useless. Wallowing. But as the minutes slid past like hours, and Deanna finally slipped below the horizon to allow Mala to stretch her golden fingers over the land, Rowan dragged himself out of bed and prepared to face the day.

Each piece of steel he strapped to his clothes felt heavier than the last.

Rowan wandered down to the kitchens, his boots silent in the fortress corridors. It was still early, and Mistward was quite awake yet. But the kitchens, as usual, had been bustling with energy long before dawn.

From the top of the stairs, Rowan could hear chopping vegetables, the quick opening and closing of the bread ovens, the cursing of burnt fingers. The melody of Luca and Emrys preparing for the breakfast rush.

Rowan slid in as quietly as he could, grabbing a mug of stew and snatching a loaf of bread when Emrys’ eyes were averted, then retreated to a back corner to wolf it down.

“Hurry up with those vegetables, Luca! No time to waste – the stock should have started simmering over 15 minutes ago!”

“I’m sorry Emrys, it’s just that Elentiya used to deal with this.” Luca frantically shoved the mixed vegetables into a pot, and moved on to carving at a mysterious slab of meat. Roast duck, perhaps?

“I know I know.” Emrys said, exasperated. “Just get it done. Malakai will be down in a minute to take you away, and then I’m going to have to finish this all myself.”

As if the old male had summoned him, Malakai appeared in the entranceway, his lined face haggard with missed sleep. He nodded at Rowan, then snuck behind Emrys to embrace him.

“See? What did I say,” Emrys teased, a smile in his voice, “Now I’ll be without both my helpers to get breakfast on the table.” He snuck a kiss on his mate’s cheek, then twisted out of his grip to stir a massive vat of scrambled eggs, grabbing a handful of chopped chives from Luca’s cutting board and tossing them in.

Luca started working more furiously than ever, cutting bread into slices and portioning soup into bowls. Malakai reluctantly let go of his mate, then, surprisingly, looked up at Rowan.

“Prince Whitethorn,” he cleared his throat lightly. “Thrain has asked if I would join him beneath the fortress today, to help install the new iron gate. And Randall is over at the healer’s compound this morning, so – ”

Rowan frowned. He thought he knew where this was going. “ – would it be alright if you took Luca on patrol this morning?”

Rowan sighed. It wasn’t like he had anything more important to do. He gave the male a small nod, then said, “Emrys, if you need him this morning, it can wait until after breakfast is done.”

The old male didn’t even look up from the stove. “Thank you, Prince Rowan. Now Luca – ” Emrys gave the young male a daunting list of instructions, the boy’s face noticeably paling.

Malakai nodded at Rowan once again, kissed his mate, grabbed one of Luca’s slices of bread and cheese, then disappeared out the kitchen door, presumably to head for the tunnels beneath the fortress.

Rowan finished eating just as the demi-Fae began to arrive, told Luca he would be back in an hour, then left out the back door and headed into the forest, his limbs stretching into a slow, loping run.

This wasn’t the first time he had taken charge of Luca’s training since his return to Mistward, and he was starting to realize that he rather liked the young demi-Fae. No matter that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He was almost like a very, very young Connall – always full of questions, and going around with that naïve, bright-eyed innocence. So impressionable.

His run slowly transformed into a sprint, his muscles burning with exertion.

It was strange to feel the boy beginning to warm up to him after all these months. Finally opening up, and asking all those questions burning on his lips. And it was nice that Malakai and Emrys seemed to trust Rowan with him, even if it was just to guide him through the basics of sparring, or run with him around the borders of the fortress’ lands.

Rowan knew that Malakai and Emrys were at least a little bit confused as to why Rowan was back, but they hadn’t asked too many questions, for which he was grateful. Malakai and the other leaders wanted an update on the events in Doranelle and to know the Queen’s response to the Adarlanian attack, but all Emrys wanted to know was whether Elentiya was all right.

Rowan told them as little as he could, saying that he had informed Maeve of the details of Adarlan’s attack on the fortress, that she was responding accordingly and would keep them informed through the usual channels. He told them that Elentiya was on her way back to Adarlan, and that he was here on his queen’s orders.

Rowan just didn’t specify exactly which queen had ordered him to return, and they did not ask. But somehow, he thought that Emrys suspected. That male seemed to be able to see through anything.

Rowan felt that Emrys and Malakai were wondering why he hadn’t gone with Aelin, but they didn’t say anything. And for that, Rowan was even more grateful. Because he didn’t have an answer to give them. He barely had an answer to give himself.

Rowan knew that Aelin hadn’t been telling him the whole truth on that pier, but he hadn’t wanted to push. She deserved her space, deserved to go back to Adarlan alone, with a clean slate and without a hulking ass like him hanging on her coattails at every moment. Even if it drove him completely insane.

Rowan’s feet pounded into the earth as he sprinted through the trees. Maybe this morning he would reach as far as the sea.

By the time they said goodbye, the captain’s scent had completely left her own. There was no trace of him left. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t still want him, or that when Rowan saw her again, the scent wouldn’t have returned.

There was also that prince, the Havilliard boy. They were friends, at the very least. And surely a match between their two houses would be politically advantageous. The first daughter of Brannon Galathynius, and the first son of Gavin Havilliard, combining their houses? Certainly something Aelin would be considering.

Rowan ripped past a patch of thorns, their barbs digging into the skin of his forearms. He didn’t pause.

Aelin had only mentioned her cousin a few times, just in passing, but Rowan had heard of Aedion Ashryver. Knew all the stories about the wolf of the north. Even knew about the rumors that had circulated, several times over, that a marriage would be arranged between the two of them.

It could be a smart match, the two cousins. Aedion was respected and admired throughout the western continent, and beloved by his people. It would solidify Aelin’s position within Terrasen, and secure her more support within her nation. He even had his own legion of soldiers he could promise to her cause.

Rowan’s breaths were sharp in his throat. He pushed himself even harder.

Then there was the matter of her former master. Aelin had never been clear about her relationship with Arobynn Hamel, whether he was father, brother, or…lover. The word turned Rowan’s stomach.

He was now practically flying through the trees.

Aelin had told him that she needed to go to Adarlan alone because Rowan would be too much of a distraction, that he would only make things harder for her if he went with her. And that was true, at least in part. But Rowan thought that the real reason she wanted to go alone was because she needed to deal with Chaol and Arobynn without him there to complicate things.

Arobynn… Rowan sighed, gritting his teeth. Rowan wasn’t sure he had ever desired the death of another human being more than he had Arobynn Hamel’s.

Aelin had been so hesitant, so reluctant to say anything about her former master. But those scars spoke volumes.

He had chained her, had abused her, manipulated her, and then beat her bloody. He had tortured and killed her lover. Her Sam. And then he had sent her to the salt mines, where she was whipped and starved and had nearly been destroyed.

Rowan wanted to tear Arobynn limb from limb, wanted to rip out his fingernails and chain him up in the dark and leave him there until he started to lose grip on what was real and what wasn’t. There was no torture too extreme, no punishment that he didn’t deserve.

But if Aelin decided to forgive him, decided to let that monster back into her life, Rowan would have to live with it.

And it killed him.

Killed him to have her headed over that sea, towards enemies who had already nearly succeeded in killing her, and who had tried over and over and over again. And most of all, it killed him because he had no idea when he would see her again. No idea if he would ever see her again.

His legs kept pushing him forwards, his lungs fighting to keep up.

She didn’t want him. Aelin didn’t want him by her side.

Another ragged breath.

He would learn to live with it. Would learn to deal with that burden.

In. Out. Forwards.

Aelin would marry another, be it for love or politics. And Rowan would be there for her no matter what. That was the promise he had made, and that was the promise he would keep.

So he ran, pushing through the undergrowth until he could feel the sea air on his cheeks, until the wind whispered of caves and sand and foam and spray. Rowan sprinted right up to the cliffs, jerking to a stop.

He looked out over the deep blue water with sharp, determined eyes. As if he looked hard enough, he would be able to see her on her little ship, sailing away from him across the blue ocean.

But of course, the sea was as empty as it always was.

His breaths ripped through his chest, but before they calmed, Rowan had already shifted into his hawk and was soaring through the sea-tossed air. Heading back over the trees he had just run between.

This run had become a part of his routine. And while he told himself it was just exercise, he knew that it was really so he could run over the paths he had spent so much time with Aelin on. So he could feel like she was still with him, even fleetingly.

What had taken him nearly an hour to travel on foot took him barely minutes in the air. And soon, he was swooping down over the fortress and shifting to land on his feet outside the kitchen door to collect Luca.

Ever since the battle, the ward stones had been useless and silent, the barriers permanently fallen. Rowan had spent some time examining them, and though he could find no obvious flaw in the ancient stone, he also could find no remedy. Their magic was simply spent, and it would not come back.

As a result, the residents of Mistward had spent a significant amount of time and energy on designing replacements to secure the fortress; higher walls, stronger battlements, sturdier outer gate, larger drawbridge. These improvements were well underway by the time Rowan had returned a week past, and he had gladly thrown himself into the effort.

Even now, as he waited outside the kitchen for Luca to arrive, he could see various workers laying the foundation for the new gate and battlements, and others pulling a large wagon filled with quarried stone for the outer wall. Rowan would likely spend his afternoon among them, either with the men in the small quarry a mile or so away, harvesting stone blocks, or with those who were currently building the scaffolding to contain the stones as they were laid in place.

He wasn’t exactly looking forwards to it. The days were getting hotter as summer grew nearer, and though the day had barely begun, it already was promising to be sweltering.

Luca finally appeared at the door, Emrys’ voice calling from across the room reminding him to be careful, and that he would see him in the evening for the dinner rush, and to stay safe. Rowan disguised a small smile.

Luca glanced up at him briefly, then jerked his eyes away and skittered out of the entrance, making for the fortress gates. Rowan followed without a word.

“Malakai told me I was supposed to run the southern perimeter, and then work on my sparring forms.” Luca’s eyes met his, then flitted away again. Luca’s scent was mellow, buttered toast and apple slices, but right now it was sharp with anxiety and excitement.

Rowan nodded at the boy, and they took off towards the south, passing by sentries who waved and smiled at Luca, but didn’t seem to know how to greet Rowan. Most looked down and away, or raised their hands in half a wave which they quickly gave up on. Rowan ignored them.

Public opinion of him had shifted since the battle, but not by that much.

They ran in silence for a while, Rowan alert and watchful, though they found nothing of interest. Luca was demi-Fae, but since he couldn’t shift, they were confined to a much slower pace than Rowan was used to. Meaning a run that would have taken him minutes, took them over an hour.

By the time they stopped for water, Luca was panting, but determined. Rowan handed the boy the water skin, which he eagerly gulped down. Rowan stripped off his light cotton shirt, now soaked in sweat, and hung it up on a branch at the edge of the clearing.

Luca’s voice floated over to him, “Do you think Elentiya is ever going to come back?”

Rowan paused for a moment. “I don’t know, Luca. But I don’t think so.”

His brow was furrowed. “How long are you going to stay here then?”

“I don’t know that either.”

The boy almost laughed. “I used to think that you knew everything.”

“No one knows everything.”

Luca shook his head slightly, glancing around the forest, his lips curved upwards into a sly grin. “But I still thought you did – well, if not everything, then at least everything important. Bas – ” Luca’s voice stumbled a bit over the other boy’s name, “he tried to tell me different, but I refused to listen to him.”

Rowan’s heart sunk. Bas. He had been so young, only a little bit older than Luca. He hadn’t known any better, had just wanted what everyone did – to be accepted. To be safe.

“I killed him, did you know that?” Luca’s gaze turned to Rowan’s. “I was the one who killed him.”

Rowan nodded. “I guessed.”

His eyes jerked away again, his feet scuffing the earth. “I still forget that he’s gone, sometimes. But it was the right thing – what I did. Wasn’t it?”

Rowan sighed, frowning slightly. Luca looked back up at him, worried. “The world is a complicated place,” Rowan said finally. “Answers are almost never as easy as that. But yes, Luca. I think that you did the right thing.”

The boy’s face darkened, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Rowan let the silence continue, just waiting. Knowing that he might be the only person who could soothe this ache for the young demi-Fae. It was a responsibility that he didn’t take lightly.

“Sometimes – ” he broke off, and though his face was turned away, Rowan could see that his eyes were lined with silver. “Sometimes I wonder whether I still want to become a warrior.”

Rowan considered his answer carefully before he responded. “Warriors are many things, Luca, not just soldiers. Malakai has been a warrior all his life, but his days are filled with the duties of a leader, not with violence.”

“That wasn’t really what I meant.”

Rowan waited.

“I meant – I’m not sure why I’m doing this anymore. I mean why do I even want to be let into Doranelle? It doesn’t seem much better over there than it is here.”

“Then let me ask you a question in return,” he said plainly. “Do you think that what you’re learning is worthwhile?”

Another pause. “Yes…” Luca said slowly. “Or at least I think so.”

“Then I would say don’t worry about whether or not you will pass your tests, and be let into Doranelle.” Rowan turned, and began walking through the clearing, scanning it over. “Many demi-Fae come here, and spend all of their time wishing to be somewhere else. Then when they don’t achieve that goal, they end up lost, and angry.” Rowan grabbed a long, sturdy stick from the ground and turned back to the young demi-Fae. “Instead focus on what you are in control of.”

Rowan threw the stick over to Luca, who caught it just before it smacked him in the face. The boy wiped at his eyes, then nodded.

“Are you ready?” Rowan asked.

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

Rowan guided him through the basic sparring forms, grabbing another stick for himself as they staged mock battles. They exchanged choreographed blows until the sun began to pull them into midday, and they returned to Mistward.

Luca traipsed off to join the other young sentries, and Rowan spent the rest of the afternoon toiling over a ten-foot section of the new outer wall, laboriously hauling piles of stone and fitting them into place with smeared vats of pale-grey grout.

It was hard, physical labor. The kind that filled your muscles with a satisfying soreness at the end of the day. But it did not fill his mind.

Instead, Rowan spent the afternoon mulling over his conversation with Luca.

That boy really did have a way of worming through other people’s barriers.

But it was more than just that. It had almost reminded Rowan of living in his uncle’s house, when he was still learning the fighting arts and was recovering from the deaths of his parents. He had been surrounded by cousins, both younger and older. And today with Luca – that is what it had been like back then. Learning and teaching alike, giving comfort and advice when asked.

It was a time so distant, it felt strange in Rowan’s mind. Like they were the memories of another, completely separate person. Someone who didn’t exist anymore.

But this morning, he had reappeared. If only for a moment.

It was like putting on old clothes, made unfamiliar by time. The memory stretched tight over his new frame.

Rowan realized that he missed Sellene and Endymion and all the rest, missed their mess and chaos, and the countless children underfoot. It wasn’t likely he would see them again anytime soon. Nor that their meeting would be under anything resembling decent circumstances.

When they ate dinner that evening, Luca sat at Rowan’s table. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Rowan recognized the gesture for what it was.

And that night, when Rowan finally curled up at the edge of his mattress, his thoughts fell to family. To children. And what they would look like if he shared them with Aelin.

Rowan gritted his teeth at the idea, but he was unable to banish it. And so those thoughts coaxed him slowly to sleep, where he lay in the fortress of stone, surrounded by silver mist.

Just barely out of reach of the moonlight.

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[wienerbarnes]

The Escape

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,717

Warnings: mind control ooooo, general violence, description of stealing a car that is wildly inaccurate bc ive.... never stolen a car, dues ex machina

A/N: some background about the reader! this one takes place before the last chapter of the original series, way before anything with bucky. this oneshot kinda recounts her prison escape 👀 not a lot of bucky in this one, but kind how the reader got to where she is and stufffff i love a good origin story

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

You didn’t sleep the entire night. How could you? How were you supposed to sleep when you know you’re waking up to your inevitable death?

You refused a last meal a few hours ago. What was the point? You didn’t have an appetite anyway.

All you could do was count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until the footsteps would sound down the hall, arriving at your cell, the guards would stare at you through the bullet-proof glass wall, the only wall of four that wasn’t made of thick concrete.

They’d take you down to the observation room, they’d strap you down in the chair before asking for your final words. You’d stare out into the window of the observation room, unable to see through to the otherside, but knowing there’d be witnesses there. Maybe the families of people you killed. Maybe government officials, the ones who worked as hard as possible to get you this ending.

First, the sodium thiopental would be injected into your veins to sedate you. Then, the vecuronium bromide will be given that will send your body into paralysis. Finally, the potassium chloride will stop your heart. And your life will be over.

What a shame.

Too soon, your life was wasted. And too soon did the guards feet sound down the hall. And too soon did he arrive in front of your cell, ordering you to get up from your bed to shackle you.

He’s alone, you notice. Perhaps they don’t expect you to put up much of a fight.

Something snaps in your brain and before you realize you’re even doing it, you’re tapping into the young guard’s poor brain. He was a cop. A cop turned prison guard to spend more time at home, less time out in the world trying to catch bad guys. Never really bad guys, though, always just some unlucky soul caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Open the cell.” You tell him, finally through to his head. The keys jingle as he unlocks the three complicated locks attached to the side of the door.

You’re suddenly grateful for the hundreds of times they called you crazy, they called you a psycho, they told you you didn’t have powers, that that was your sad and sorry excuse of the reason for your crimes.

“Take off your clothes.” You order next. The young man begins to strip, taking off his clothes until he’s down to his underwear. White briefs with a blue waistband.

Once his uniform is on your body, you take everything he has, leaving his pistol with him.

“Shoot at everybody that comes in here.” You tell him, and he stares at you blankly, no longer in control of his actions as you take over.

You take a moment, closing your eyes and trying to concentrate on what the prison looks like, where the exits are, and where the guards are. You peek an eye open to glance at the man’s watch that now sits on your wrist, eight minutes until the shift changes.

Eight minutes for you to not fuck this up.

You close the cell door behind you, locking it, and making your way down the hall. You need to time this perfectly so that you’re slipping out as the other guards are leaving.

Just keep your head down, and get out as quickly as possible. Don’t talk to anyone. Just get out and start walking. You’ll get to the city eventually and you’ll hide out until you can keep making your way through New York. Maybe you’ll go to Jersey. Or up to New Hampshire.

Yeah, you’re just going to walk to New Hampshire, aren’t you?

Not a priority right now. Focus on getting out. A deep breath until you unlock the gate at the end of the hall, making your way out into another hallway. You visualize the map in your head once more and keep making your way down. You walk with confidence, head still slightly tilted down, but steps quick and light. Another guard turns the corner at the end of the hall and you make sure your steps don’t falter, and he walks right by you without a second thought.

You’re still unsure about the whole mind control thing. You don’t want to question it, because it seems to be pretty useful right now, but you don’t want to abuse it either, knowing your luck will eventually fail you.

It’s not long before you hear a gunshot ring out in the distance and you glance at a clock on the wall to see the shift change happening now.

You need to get out of here, now. Soon the guards will realize it’s you who’s missing from your cell and the search will begin. They’ll start with the entire grounds of the prison, which will hopefully buy you some time to make it to the city, if you sprint.

You finally make it to a more open area, exit signs now posted at the tops of doorways. You finally find a group of other men, some with bags or coats and you slip into the crowd, hoping that these are the guys leaving from their shift.

“Hey, have a good one, man. Tell the family I said hello.” A rough hand pats your shoulder before brushing past you.

Your stomach drops at the fact that these men are so unaware. So unaware that their real friend is in your cell, probably having a shootout with the new guards who just began their shift. The fact that these guards showed up to work today and the first thing they encounter is another guard in his underwear shooting at them.

Push it back. Push it back. Push it back.

As you’re huddled in between bodies, a bright light suddenly washes over your face. Sunlight. Your eyes burn at the feeling, a feeling so foreign having not felt it in months. You force them open though. You need to separate quickly, because not only do you not know where the parking lot is, you don't know which car is yours, you don’t have keys, and even if you did, you don’t know how to fucking drive.

Why did you never learn this! You never thought you’d need to since you decided you were going to join the military at sixteen, but you still should’ve fucking looked into it!

You don’t think you’ll make it walking. It’ll draw too much attention. The prison is in the middle of fucking nowhere and you’re just going to walk home? What would be worse is if someone offers you a ride.

New plan: find your car and hope it’s unlocked so you can sit inside until everyone leaves.

You know Hydra made you break into things before; houses, cars, etc. But you’ve tried to repress so much of that time that you can’t remember if you ever hot wired a car before.

You hope your luck doesn’t run out anytime soon.

Men arrive at their cars and the options quickly narrow down between an orange SUV and a black, fancy-looking car. You take your chances on the SUV.

It’s unlocked. It’s fucking unlocked. You shut the door and heave, feeling so hard to breath in the small space, but feeling relieved at the chance to finally make some noise and express your stress outside of that group of people you were stuck around.

“C’mon. C’mon! Fight or flight, c’mon, just make me know how to hot wire this.” You close your eyes, as though that will suddenly make the knowledge appear in your head. It doesn’t, surprisingly.

Until you look in the cupholder to see a dozen bobby pins. He probably has a daughter. “It’s going to have to do.” You mumble to yourself.

You quickly straighten them out and shove them into the small spot where the key goes. You twist and turn, holding a bunch of pins together to simulate an odd shape of the key, until finally you hear a click.

That’s gotta be good! Right? You go with it, continuing to twist until you hear a sputtering and crunchy sound of the engine starting.

This guy drives a piece of shit car. But it’s fucking on! You waste no time in putting the car into the drive before pulling out the lot. You make yourself extremely nauseous at your own driving, or rather, attempt at driving. You see in the rearview mirror the lights on the prison flashing, the bright red signaling that they’ve realized you escaped. You give yourself twenty minutes before they ditch the search of the prison grounds and look for you in the city.

Down the road you alternate between driving fifteen miles an hour to sixty, finding it so difficult to get a steady control of the car. But you’re doing it! You only need to make it to the city. That’s it.

“How the fuck do they make sixteen-year-olds do this shit?”

Eventually you get the hang of it. Still a terrible driver, but you at least don’t feel as scared driving among other cars. 

The longer you drive, the more it catches up to you what you’ve done. Soon enough, the tears come and so do the sobs. Until you stop a red light and let out a yell of agony, the stress and sadness washing through your body.

It’s hard, wanting to break down completely but having to keep your eyes open for the light to change, and having to pay attention to your surroundings. You find a small alleyway to pull into and you put the car in park before ditching it.

No time to cry, you can cry later. You peek around at the name of restaurants and stores around you, not recognizing any of them. You look at the street signs not recognizing those, either. You haven’t been around society in almost ten years, and you feel hopelessly and utterly lost.

You look around the alleyway and see a big dumpster. Just for a little while, you think. You lift the lid and climb inside, shutting the lid above you.

It’s dark, greasy, and the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, but it’s somehow better than where you were. You don’t know how much time has passed, but the noise outside the dumpster grows, and you make a guess that it’s around six or seven in the morning.

If you want to blend in with the crowd, you need to change your clothes. A prison guard outfit will most definitely make you stand out to people, especially when news breaks that there's a prison escapee on the loose.

When you finally lift the lid to stand up, you look to your left to see a teenager, probably not older than seventeen, staring at you, frozen, key in hand, seemingly to open up some store that you’re in back of.

He’s tall and lanky, and what makes him stand out to you the most is the spiky black hair he sports on his head and the thick black eyeliner around the rims of his eyes.

“You… okay?” He asks, clearly confused as to why a random woman in a prison guard outfit is hanging out in the dumpster behind her place of work. But you’re frozen. You don’t know what to say. You can’t imagine the last twelve hours I’ve been through, it won’t make much sense.

“Are you… hungry?” He asks when you don’t answer. “I’m, uh, opening now, but no one will be here for another hour or two when we actually open. I can make you something if you like?” He offers.

He thinks you’re homeless. Which, you are, technically. But he doesn’t recognize you. Perhaps you haven’t made the news yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time.

You finally nod, climbing out of the dumpster bin and walking over to where he holds the door open for you.

You devour the sandwich he makes you, a simple ham and cheese on white bread, but it’s the best thing you’ve eaten in, well, a decade.

“How long have you been homeless for?”

“Are you from New York?”

“What’s your zodiac sign?”

“What’s your favorite band?”

So many questions come from the curious kid, kindness radiating from him. Casual conversation ensues, and you’re careful not to give too much away.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you swallow the last bit of sandwich.

“How do I get to Brooklyn from here?”

“You’re in Brooklyn, silly.” He responds and your eyes widen a bit, not thinking you’d get this lucky.

“Sorry, that came out kinda insensitive,” He apologizes, picking up your plate, “It’s not like you have a GPS or anything. Anywhere you’re trying to go in particular?”

You have a flash of a vision, Bucky sleeping soundly in his apartment, as the sun shines through in orange cracks in his blinds. Your mind envisions the building, where it is, what it looks like, and how you can get there. Why is your mind and body wanting to lead you to where Bucky is? If you’re trying to lay low, why does your vision want you to go to what’s the third most recognizable government figure in the country, after the President and Captain America?

“Uhm… to see a friend. I guess I wasn’t trying to go, but I have a lot of… free time now, so. Just don’t know what I’d say to him.” You tell the boy, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You’re not looking forward to the rest of the day, or week, or month, or life.

“Why don’t you write a note? That’s what I do; when I don’t think I can say the right thing, I write it instead. I can give you some paper and an envelope.” He offers.

This kid has got to be my guardian angel personified, you think. What are the fucking odds?

“You should take it with you, though. I gotta open up soon, and I’m sure you don’t want to experience the morning rush of this place.” You read my mind.

“I’ll give you a change of clothes, too. Where’d you get that, anyway? Do you hang around dumpsters often? Is that one from a Halloween store?”

“Okay, that’s too much. You’ve already been so kind.” You refuse, ignoring the curious questions that shoot out of his mouth.

“Then don’t take it as me being kind, take it as me being mean. You smell like shit from that dumpster.”

You can’t help but laugh, and oh how good it feels. You never thought you’d laugh again, and here you are, giggling at being told you smell bad by some goth teenager.

Soon enough, you’re walking through the backways of buildings, in a crisp white t-shirt that smells of the cologne of a teenage boy, and note and envelope in hand. It takes you about forty five minutes to make it to Bucky’s apartment building, and it was only slightly less stressful that your walk out of that prison.

Through the glass door, you don’t see anyone at the front desk, so you open the door and step inside.

To your left you see a wall of mailboxes, and one large one at the bottom overflowing with letters and gifts. You take a wild guess and say that that one belongs to Bucky. You’ve heard he’s a pretty popular guy, along with the company he keeps.

You take the stairs to the eighth floor and the fourteenth room, hoping the 814 on that mailbox wasn’t random. You scribble out on your piece of paper, tearing it off and keeping the rest in case you need for another note in the future, or a snack. You bite at the blue bracelet on your wrist before it breaks and stick it in the envelope, tucking in the flap to close it.

You place it on the ground and silently press your ear to the door. You don’t hear him, but you hear the sound of the television, announcing your missing presence and the manhunt around the city. You take that as a cue to leave quickly.

Why you feel such a draw towards Bucky, you’re not sure, but for some reason, you have a feeling that leaving him this gift of sorts won’t come back to haunt you.

Perhaps it’ll even lead to the opposite.

[detectiveidiotboy]

His Time In The Commonwealth III: Deacon's Story

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

it is now time for part three of this little mini series i have. now that we’ve seen what happened to nick, let’s see how good ol’ deacon ended up where he is...

Deacon stood in the center of the burning remains of the Mercer Safehouse, staring at the man who set the place on fire not two hours earlier. The arsonist's back was turned, cropped black hair shining in the red-and-yellow flashes of the house fire. A woman crawled out from the debris - a synth who’d arrived just weeks before. She was shouldering a sobbing agent with cracked, bloody glasses and leg twisted backward. The man raised his rifle and gunned the two women down with an honest-to-god smile on his face.

Nate, you are one fucked up guy, Deacon thought as he stepped over the burning remains of an agent trapped under a beam.

“Deacon? Is that you?” Nate turned, eyes shining against the flames illuminating the light. “I thought I’d run into you sooner or later.”

“Yeah,” Deacon snarked, unstrapping his shotgun from his back, “I’ve been a little hard to pin down lately - Dez was always the one who assigned my ops in my downtime, but she’s been pretty distracted lately. You know, being dead ‘n all.”

“Morbid.” Nate chuckled. “I always did like your sense of humor.”

“I’ve been told I’m one hell of a comedian.”

Deacon pressed the barrel of his shotgun against Nate’s chest. The man stared at him, seeming far more interested than worried about the twelve gage of death aimed at his sternum. Nate was tough shit - but even he couldn’t survive getting all his organs blasted out by a point-blank shotgun round. At least, that was the hope Deacon clung to. “So, you wanna die here? Or is there somewhere else you want me to shoot you?”

“A surprisingly generous offer,” Nate said, lowering the gun with a finger, “but I’m afraid I have to decline. I have more important things to do than help you get some petty revenge.”

“Sorry, not happening,” Deacon cocked the gun, raising the barrel until it rested just beneath Nate’s chin. “Actually, you know what, nah - I’m not sorry at all.”

“I assumed not,” Nate said, raising his hands. “Fine, Deacon.” He said with a sigh. “If this is really how you want things to go, then shoot me - but wouldn’t you rather know why I’m doing what I’m doing?”

“Nope,” Deacon said as he blasted the fucker’s head off his body.

Except, that wasn’t entirely what happened. Nate stumbled back, almost fell over entirely, but despite the scattershot tearing through his throat just seconds before, his head was still stubbornly attached to his body. Nate laughed, slowly rolling his head forward until it was back on top of his shoulders, smiling widely. Deacon’s own vindictive smile dropped as he lowered the gun. “Shit… you really are immortal.” He said.

“That’s right,” Nate said in a sing-song voice. “Immortal and invulnerable. I’m basically the closest thing this world has to a god,”  He laughed as he took a step forward, and Deacon took one back. “Now, since your idea was a miserable failure, let’s try mine.” He said, stretching his legs on the tips of his toes and clasping his hands behind his back. “Don’t you want to hear the reason behind my supposed betrayal?”

Deacon answered Nate’s question by bashing the butt of his gun against the psychotic killer’s face. Nate, momentarily stunned, staggered to the side and Deacon was able to retreat back towards the woods that surrounded the safehouse. At the very least he could act as bait to lure Nate away from any possible survivors. It was the least he could do for them, since he was the one who brought their murderer into the fold.

All of this was Deacon’s fault; he’d accepted the risk when he brought Nate on board. Desdemona had told him it was a bad plan - hell, P.A.M had reservations about it. Deacon should have listened to the future-telling robot instead of trusting his own chronically poor judgment. It had just seemed too good to be true - a supposedly immortal killing machine who resented authority and had a major bone to pick with the Institute? It was like the Atom itself had popped down into the Commonwealth and built them a savior out of clay and nuclear ash. Deacon couldn’t have let an opportunity like that go - and really, he’d asked himself, what was the worst that could happen?

Apparently, the worst that could happen was that the Brotherhood of Steel made their little savior an offer he couldn’t refuse. Now Tom, Desdemona, Glory, P.A.M… hell even Cartington ! They were all gone. Deacon hadn’t been at the base at the time of the attack - Nate had seen to that. Told him to head over to Sanctuary for a surprise. Well, surprise! Everyone Deacon loved was dead. He didn’t know - nor did he care - why he was spared; the only thing that mattered now was putting a stop to Nate before even more lives were lost, both synth and human alike.

Deacon dodged and weaved through the trees. He could hear Nate following him not far behind. It wasn’t long before Deacon’s lungs were straining and each breath was like a stab in the chest - god dammit he was a spy , not a runner. His body was not designed for prolonged exercise. Deacon’s heart was beating in his throat by the time he was forced to slow down. He’d put some distance between him and Nate, but it wouldn’t last. Nate never exhausted, Deacon had seen evidence of that. His stamina was endless - must come standard as part of the whole ‘god among men’ package.

Deacon reached into his pocket and pressed down on a button. It was the last stealth boy he had, and it wasn’t entirely full. It gave him only a few seconds to breathe while he tried to figure out his next move. To his right there were woods, to his left… more woods, and in front of him was, as one might guess, a large expanse of woods. Deacon wasn’t nearly as familiar as he needed to be with this part of the Commonwealth, his basic mental map was insufficient for a midnight life-or-death sprint.

He had less than ten seconds left on the stealth boy. Deacon could hear Nate closing in, so he did the only thing he could think of and backed himself up against the bark of an irradiated tree. He pressed his lips together firmly as Nate wove through the clearing, head swinging back and forth like an attack dog. It was as if he was tracking Deacon down by the scent of his fear. Again, considering Nate's otherworldly nature, not entirely out of the realm of possibility.

“I know you’re here,” Nate said, a manic laugh following the words. He drew a silenced 10mm pistol from his jacket pocket, showing it off to the seemingly-empty clearing. “Recognize this, D?” He said. Deacon did - it was Tommy’s gun, Deliverer . The very same handgun that Deacon had gifted Nate on his official entry to the Railroad. “Seems poetic, don’t it? Whispers died hiding in the shadows, and now I’m gonna kill you while you’re curled up with a Stealth Boy in your pocket.”

Deacon lunged for Nate just as the effects of the stealth device wore off. He caught the man off guard, at least, wrapping both arms around him in a bearhug of death and tackling him to the ground. Deacon had no idea how he was going to kill his target if even a point-blank shot to the neck wasn’t enough to do it, but at the very least he was going to make Nate suffer .

Deacon grabbed Nate’s arm and yanked, using his foot to pin down the man’s back and dislocate the appendage with a swift movement. Nate choked on a cry - it was the first time Deacon had even seen the man externally express pain. Maybe it was the first time he’d ever been hurt - good. Deacon slammed the heel of his boot into the back of Nate’s head, aiming for the spine. Nate’s good hand darted up, snatching Deacon by the ankle and pulling him to the ground.

Suddenly, their positions were reversed, and Nate was on top of Deacon, pilling him down with the gun pressed to Deacon’s cheek. The dislocated arm was already back into place, its hand closed around Deacon’s neck and choking him. Deacon clawed at the fingers, trying to pry them off. Nate was unbelievably strong - even with how thin and nimble his fingers appeared they were perfectly capable of crushing Deacon’s windpipe.

“Tsk, how disappointing,” Nate muttered, probably to himself. Deacon snarled as the 10mm dug into his flesh. “I really did hope I would have a chance with you. You have such a pretty face.” Deacon felt the silenced barrel trail down his cheek and press against his left breast, “be a shame to ruin it.”

Six silenced shots rang out. Deacon seized as he felt the bullets slide through him, tearing his heart to ribbons. The delicate organ came to a spasming, sudden stop in his chest, and before Deacon realized what had happened he was dead.

Once the spy had stopped moving, Nate put the gun back into his pocket. Deacon's fists relaxed and fell away from the hand still clutching his throat. Nate's fingers lingered on the bruises he’d put on Deacon’s neck, savoring the feel of indents on the other’s flesh. Nate reached up and gently removed the sunglasses from the dead man’s face, folding them up and putting them in his pocket. “I never did understand how you could see out of these things when it was dark.”

Deacon’s eyes stared back at him, expression still caught between rage, terror, and agony. Nate frowned, reaching over to shut Deacon’s eyes for him. “Pity. You really were cute.” Nate leaned over and pressed a kiss to Deacon’s still warm cheek, then stood to leave.

Seconds after his heartbeat could no longer be detected, the auto-stimpack anklet Deacon was wearing deployed. There was no blood flow to carry the medicine through his system, but through the power of osmosis, defusion, and several other pre-war science words Deacon didn’t understand, the contents of a dozen stimpacks made it to the shredded remains of his heart. Veins reconstructed themselves, weaving together tissue and cells to produce a mass of blood vessels that would just barely manage to function as a pump. Five minutes after the drugs did their best to fix a literal broken heart, the taser went off, sending waves of electricity through the corpse of one Johnathan Deacon and starting up his pitiful excuse for a new heart.

The first breath Deacon took after dying was both the single best, and most painful breath of his entire life. The bright lights and sense of calm that death had brought him were replaced with an agony that the words ‘living hell’ didn’t even begin to touch. He couldn’t even scream, the pain in his chest consuming him so completely that all that was left were small, gasping whimpers as he curled onto his side and clawed at himself.

Every muscle burned as his body worked to repair the damage of going several minutes without breathing along with all the other things that were wrong with him. Nearly half a gallon of blood was misplaced in him, and there were still at least three of the six bullets still somewhere inside him pressed up against his recently revived nerves. Deacon’s vision went black and every muscle in his body was tensed. Part of him wondered how long this would last before he died again because there was no way he could be in this much pain without something being vitally wrong with him. The other, much larger part, trusted his friends’ genius and reminded him to wait the pain out.

“So, you guys want me to wear this thing?” Deacon said, holding up the ankle brace that had been given to him by Tom and Carrington. “Like, on my person?”

“Is something wrong with the design?” Tinker Tom asked, genuinely concerned.

“It’s kind of a fashion disaster,” Deacon said, fidgeting with the thick, untreated leather that made up the strap.

“It is a highly advanced revival device, not a fashion statement.” Dr. Carrington said with a roll of his eyes. “Since when have you cared about your appearance anyways?”

“Hey, my appearance is my life,” Deacon countered. “You should know - you’ve done, like, at least three of my face jobs.”

“Four,” Carrington corrected.

“It’s meant to be worn under your clothes anyways,” Tinker Tom said. “The design was my idea - Carrington’s work here is nothing short of genius, but if we wanted any practical use for this thing with our field agents we needed something easily concealed.”

“Easily concealed, right,” Deacon said as he snapped the brace around his leg. “Unless I want to wear shorts. Man, there goes my summer plans.”

“Would you at least try to take this seriously?” Carrington snapped. “This is just a prototype, but if we can verify that it works it could save the lives of countless agents. Unfortunately, the only way to test it is for one of our agents to become mortally wounded while wearing it.”

“And so you’re giving it to me? Gosh, guys, I’m honored, really.” Deacon placed a hand to his heart. “Voted most likely to die on a mission by his peers.”

“You are the one Dez assigns to the most dangerous operations,” Tinker Tom said with a shrug. “Don’t take it too personally. If anything, it means we want you around the most.”

Deacon couldn’t admit it, but that did make him feel a little warm in the chest area, but he and ‘genuine emotions’ hadn’t seen eye-to-eye in years, so Deacon gave his co-conspirators a wink and a smile and said, “Alright, but don’t expect me to run head-first into danger just to give you guys some data. If this thing actually works like you say it will, I’ll buy the first round of the night when I get back to the land of the living.”

“Hmfph,” Carrington huffed, predictably. Then, less predictably, he smiled and said. “I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Deacon laughed as he came down from the high of agony that was recovering from a mortal chest wound, the sound pitiful and weak. The worst of the pain wasn't done yet, he could tell, this was just a short reprieve while his body geared up to continue its tantrum. “Carrington, you crazy bastard,” He muttered against the blood-soaked grass. “When I get to hell, remind me to buy you that drink.”

Deacon laughed and sobbed and spasmed until the sun was high in the sky.

[spcncershybrid]

Past Pleasures

GIFS ARE NOT MINE

KAI PARKER X FEM!WITCH!READER (PAST RELATIONSHIP)

BAU TEAM X READER (PLATONIC)

SPENCER REID X READER (BRIEF AT END)

Request: Ohh I'm anxious for misunderstanding part 2! It's sooo good 💚 idk if you're taking requests (sorry if you're not) but i thought it'd be pretty cool if reader works at the bau and is someone from kai parker's past (a childhood friend/crush/whatever) and when the team's called for help in mystic falls, kai's the unsub.. thanks in advance and, again, sorry if you're not taking requests! Take care :)

(Summary: Never in a million years did you think your ex boyfriend would be on the BAU’s radar.)

(A/N: I'm altering the Prison World storyline from TVD for this imagine! Also I’m altering Kai’s storyline to fit this. Lastly some stuff in this story involving the hospital may be inaccurate. Also sorry this took so long to post. I hope you still enjoy it!)

REQUEST ARE OPEN (+ Harry Potter has been added to the list recently!)

“Hotch I’m going to be a bit late this traffic is a pain in the-” I start before I get cut off. “Y/L/N take all the time you need just make sure you get here in one piece.” Hotch’s stern voice says. “Yes sir I will be speeding there right now. Not literally Hotch.” I say before hanging up the phone. I steadily drive over to work and park my car. I enter the building and head up to the unit area. “Hey Y/N/N.” I hear Penelope’s happy voice greet me as I step out of the elevator. “Hey Pen.” I say smiling as I swing open the doors of the bullpen. I head over to my desk and sit down. “Ah don’t get too comfortable my BAU baby. We have a case.” Penelope says strolling past me and up the stairs.I haven’t had coffee yet.I follow her into the room. “Here I heard your commute was very long.” Emily says, handing me a cup of coffee. “Oh what did I do to be blessed with Emily freaking Prentiss.” I say smiling as I take a sip. “Here you go babes.” Penelope says handing us our files. “Okay Mystic Falls Virginia just outside our room. Multiple bodies were sent to the hospital all banged and bloody.” Penelope says shivering at her words.I look at the file pictures and these seem vaguely familiar.“So why are we being called in?” Derek asks. “Because they all identified that it was the same man.” Penelope says.Great it’s serial.“They all said it was a blue eyed, dark brown haired guy.” Penelope says. Oh shit Kai. “Do you have a name yet?” I ask Penelope. “No but, like major but a similar thing was done by a guy named Malachai Parker.” Penelope says shivering slightly. “So why haven’t they caught him yet?” JJ asks, confused. “No one has been able to find him.”  I look down to the floor remembering the prison world escape. 

“Kai you and I both know she won’t get us both out.” I say snuggling up to him. “Babe have a little faith.” He says kissing the top of my head. “Kai what if we don’t get out?” I ask sadly, remembering my life outside of this world. “We’ve dealt with each other for this long and plus we can kill our way to the top. I’ll consider sharing my coven with you.” He says smiling at me. I smile back at him. “As fun as the killing game sounds Kai I don’t want to hurt people. I want to do what I planned before I got in here.” I say fiddling with my fingers. “The FBI thing?” Kai asks quirking an eyebrow. “Yeah Kai I would’ve been perfect for that.” I sigh sadly. “If you became an agent would you put me away?” Kai asks, grabbing my hands. “I don’t think I can run a coven on my own.” I say smiling up at him. “Good now let’s find our ticket out.” He says clapping his hands together.

——————

“Y/N?” I hear Spencer whisper beside me catching my attention. “Hmm?” I ask looking up at him. “We’re headed to the jet now.” He says shyly, handing me my go bag. “Thanks Spence.” I say smiling as I stand up. We head towards the elevator elaborating on ideas for the case and catching Kai. We step onto the jet and take our seats. “Okay so his M.O is very bloody.” Emily says twisting her pen between her fingers. “He could be sadistic.” JJ suggests turning a page to look at crime scene photos. “Or he can be a sociopath. Or at least showing the signs.” I say as I shrug leaning back. “Why do you think that?” Rossi asks. “It was just a suggestion Rossi I honestly have no clue on how to approach this case.” I say closing the file and stare out the window.

——————

Kai and I enter the back seat of a taxi. “We‘re free baby.” I say laughing giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Where are you guys off to?” The driver asks. “Mystic Falls.” Kai says quickly. “Why are headed back to that trashy town Kai.” I say rolling my eyes. “Old friends.” He says grabbing my chin so I turn to face him. “What kind?” I say smiling at him. “Family kind.” He says placing his hands over my shoulder. “Why are we going to visit your family? They have caused you nothing but trouble. For fucks sake Kai they treated you like shit.” I say shifting to look at his face. “Relax it isn't going to be a fun reunion.” Kai says shrugging. I sigh lightly this most likely won’t end good.

——————

“Tell us baby girl.” Derek says as he puts Penelope on speaker. “Okay so this Malachai guy has a rough history. He was born in 1972 in Portland Oregon. He has multiple siblings which he, oh my gosh, murdered. He has a twin sister named Josette Laughlin and two younger siblings Lucas and Olivia Parker who are still alive.” Penelope says. “Is that all Penelope?” Hotch asks walking over to the phone. “Actually no this is weird. Malachai went off the grid in 1994, like disappeared. Then he reappeared in 2012.” She says, sounding confused. “Isn’t your hometown Portland Oregon?” JJ whispers beside me. “Sadly.” I say. “There’s been a series of bodies that are injured in the local hospital. Malachai was also admitted there but he isn’t seen on the cameras. They suspect he’s still in the hospital. ” The sheriff says quickly entering and exiting the room. We all scramble and put on our vests. Half of us enter one van and the rest in another as we speed off into the hospital.

——————

We enter the hospital with our guns drawn low. “Reid, Y/L/N, Prentiss take the upper area of the hospital. The rest follow me.” Hotch instructs. We all nod in unison and head up the stairs with our weapons still out. We make it to the floor with the victims and the lights go out. “What the hell.” I hear Emily say. “Welcome to Mystic Falls’ Hospital BAU agents. I am Kai Parker, nice to be acquainted with you guys seeing as my ex-girlfriend is on your team. Hello Y/N.” Kai’s voice booms through the hospital speakers. I groan internally at his words so much for being lowkey. I turn on the flashlight on my gun and look around. Great Emily and Spencer are nowhere to be seen. I surprisingly make my way down the steps and head towards the speaker room. No ones in here. “Of course you're the first to be here.” I hear Kai say from behind me. “Don’t make this difficult Kai.” I say turning to him. “Or what you’ll arrest me. Last time I checked you hurt people too. Before this whole FBI thing that is.” Kai says, stepping towards me. “Actually that’ll be kind of hot so I won’t oppose it happening.” He says, smirking at me. I lay my hand out to start inflicting pain on him. “Immobilis.” He says halting my movements. I freeze completely and stare at him as he walks around me.

“You still look the same. You even still have that scar from when we escaped the prison world.” Kai says as he drags a finger onto my cheek outlining the scar. “Does your team even know about me? Do they know you could’ve found me so easily with your magic?” He asks, gripping my arm. He siphons some magic from me causing pain but I can’t scream out. He lets go of me and drops the spell. “Motus.” I say immediately sending him flying out the room. He groans and gets up off the floor. He speeds over to me and grabs me by the neck pinning me to the wall. He grips my neck tightly as I gasp for air. “I won’t kill you because well we dated and you're hot.” He says dropping me. I fall to my knees holding my throat. “Malachai Parker. Put your hands in the air.” Emily says as she appears behind Kai. Kai smirks to me and puts his hands up. “Remember your house in the prison world. I hope you remember what I told you.” Kai says to me. “I love you and always win.” I say looking at him confused. “Ad somnum.” He says, turning to Emily making her drop to the floor. He turns back to me and grabs me by the chin. “I always win baby.” He says kissing me before speeding out of the room. The lights on the floor immediately go back on as he runs away and Emily stands up rubbing her head. “Where did he go?” Emily asked, looking around. “He’s gone.” I sigh sadly. “Guys!” We hear Spencer exclaim. Emily and I scramble out the room towards his voice with our guns drawn. “Oh my gosh.” Emily gasps as we see Kai holding Spencer up by the neck. I place my hand forwards and feel the gust of wind moving around me from the vents. I focus my energy on Kai and think of pain. Kai immediately drops to the floor, dropping Spencer in the process. I step closer to Kai as Emily grabs Spencer moving him to the side. I twist my fingers making the pain intensify as Kai screams out in agony. 

I drop my hand and Kai stands up glaring at me. “Mittite.” I say flinging him into the wall. He stays pinned tightly into the wall and I twist my hand snapping his neck. His body drops to the ground lifeless. “Cuff him and put him in the car before he wakes up.” I say to Spencer who nods back at me.

——————

We head back to the station and Kai gets put into one of the cells. “Make sure you call Bonnie and Damon quickly. Kai is dangerous.” I say quietly to Sheriff Forbes who nods in understanding. I nod over to her and walk off to the room where we all set up. “Where is everyone?” I ask, noticing only Spencer in the room. “Back at the hotel.” He says holding his bag tightly. “Oh um well I’ll be right back.” I say opening the door. “Hey Y/N would you maybe want to go out sometime?” I hear Spencer says. I turn to him blushing profusely and nod not trusting my mouth to say actual words. He smiles widely as I exit the room. I walk over to Kai’s spelled  cell and look at him tilting my head to the side. “Goodbye Kai. I hope you enjoy the new and improved prison world you'll most likely be sent to.” I say waving him off. I head back to the set up room and grab my bag. I lace my hands with Spencer and we walk out of the station.

[hopelikethemoon]

Homecoming (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: Homecoming Rating: Explicit  Length: 3200 Warnings: Smut (not everyone gets a ‘happy ending’ but everyone is still happy) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set Summerish 1995. ‘95 is a weird year without dates yet. Perhaps that’s a tomorrow task Thanks to everyone who asked for “imperfect sex”.  Summary: Reader gets home after a business trip.

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You drummed your fingers against the steering wheel as you watched another minute tick by on the digital clock on your dashboard. You were supposed to be home almost an hour ago, but an accident on I-95 had brought traffic to a standstill before you had a chance to get onto Route 1. 

Thank God for car phones. 

You opened the center console, keying in the home phone before tucking it between your shoulder and your ear as you focused on inching forward another two feet. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” You smiled as Javier picked up the phone. “Still stuck on the road.”

“Jesus Christ,” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You got enough gas?”

“I filled up on the turnpike,” You assured him, glancing at the fuel gauge, “I’m good. Promise.” 

“Any movement?”

You glanced at a road sign as you inched past it. “I’m almost to 112. I’m gonna try to un-ass myself of this mess there.”

“Maybe another thirty?” He questioned hopefully. 

“That’s optimistic,” You chuckled, pushing your fingers through your hair as you grumbled at the car in front of you. “Yeah, sure. Just come on over jackass. Not like the rest of us are trying to get out of this shit too.”

“Ah, I see the road rage has settled in.” Javier teased. 

“I just wanna be home.” You admitted. “I thought I could do this whole work-trip thing, but… I’m not a fan.”

“I know, baby. Four days is a long time.”

“I don’t know how you did it,” You remarked. How many times had he had to go away in Colombia? You hadn’t even considered the agony of being away from Javi and Josie until you had settled into your first night alone in a hotel room in St. Pete.

“Did you have fun at least?”

“You know me, I just love public speaking to a bunch of men who think they know better than me.” You laughed bitterly, “It was fine. I actually did really well.”

“Of course you did, baby.” You could practically feel the adoration in his voice. “If it’s any consolation — we missed you. A lot.”

“I missed you too,” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I cannot wait to be home.”

“Yeah?” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I made dinner. Well, I ordered dinner.”

“It’s going to be cold by the time I get home,” You sighed, rubbing at your forehead as traffic came to a complete halt again. “What’d you get?”

“Chinese. General Tso’s, fried rice, your favorite egg rolls.”

“You know how to spoil me.”

“I have a few plans to spoil you.”

“Momma!” Josie squealed from somewhere on the other side of the call and your heart clenched. 

“You wanna say hello, JoJo?” Javier questioned, “Hang on.” There was a rustle of noise as he sat the phone down, before returning a beat later. “I’ve got you on speaker phone.”

“Hey, baby doll!” You said enthusiastically, wishing you could see her on the other side of the call. “Did you miss mommy?”

“Mommy!” Josie clapped her hands. “Da-da! Mommy!” 

“She looks thrilled,” Javier told you. “She’s looked for you every day.”

“I’m sure she has.” You tried to ignore the ache in your chest. “I’ll be home soon, baby doll. And I’m going to read you a story and tuck you in. Everything I missed this week.” You shook your head slowly, “I don’t know how you did this, Javi.”

“It killed me.” Javier admitted quietly, before the phone rustled again as he let Josie go off to play once more, switching off the speaker. “Why do you think I’d come over in the middle of the night, even if it meant an hour or two of actual sleep?”

“I get it now. You were willing to do what you had to, to make up for what you missed out on.” The traffic let up a little, allowing you to drive further down the road without stopping. “I’m about five minutes from the exit, I think. I should be home before seven.”

“I’ll keep JoJo up so you can tuck her in.”

“Let her sleep if she’s tired, babe.”

“Baby, I know how important it is.”

“Yeah, I guess you do. Thank you.” You smiled to yourself. “I can’t wait to kiss you.”

Javier chuckled, “Me neither. Four days is a long time, isn’t it?”

“And lonely. I hated sleeping in a giant king hotel bed alone.” You made a face. “You two are coming with me next time.”

“I know I slept for shit without you next to me,” Javier told you. “Who knew that after three years with someone you could get real fucking used to not sleeping alone.” 

“I know!” You laughed, “Okay, I’ve reached the exit. I should be home in twenty.” You told him as you veered off 95, taking the exit that would get you home sometime this century. 

“See you in a few.” Javier murmured, “I love you.”

“Love you too. I’ll be home soon.”

Somehow you managed to hit every fucking light on the way home, but at least you made it home before seven. 

“Next time I have a conference in St. Pete — I’m flying. It was an easy six hour drive up, but Jesus Christ…” You complained as you threw your purse down on the sofa, abandoning your suitcase by the door. “Nine hours today.”

“But you’re home now,” Javier pointed out as he greeted you with a kiss, passing a very sleepy Josie to you. 

“Hello, baby girl.” You whispered as you cradled her against you, running your hand over her back as she clung to you. “I swear you’ve gotten bigger in just four days.”

“Missed you.” Josie told you, her eyes heavy as she rested her cheek against your shoulder. “No go bye-bye mommy.”

“I’m not going bye-bye anytime soon.” You promised her, kissing her forehead. You reached out with your free hand to urge Javier closer. He wrapped an arm around both of you as he hugged you. “Did daddy take good care of you?”

She nodded excitedly and Javier chuckled. “He braided-ed my hair!”

“Did he?” You grinned at Javier. “And how did he learn to do that?”

“Steve.” Javier gave your hip a squeeze. “Surprisingly good at braiding.”

“Impressive.” You laughed, giving Josie’s head another kiss. “I’m going to go put her down, do you mind heating up dinner for me?”

“Do I mind?” Javier scoffed and stole a kiss. “Of course I don’t mind, baby.”

“Thank you,” You played your fingers through his hair, before you headed down the hall to Josie’s room. 

You barely made it through the first few pages of The Swan Princess before she was out like a light beside you. You stayed there, watching her sleep for as long as your stomach would allow you.

The smell of the reheated Chinese food wafting down the hallway had your stomach in knots with hunger. If you had known how long the drive was going to be — you would’ve gotten something to eat on the turnpike. 

As much as you wanted to get back in the field, go on assignment, and travel again — you really did want to be home with Javier and Josie. You were only a little jealous that Javier had adapted to stay-at-home life so easily. He was so at ease, constantly. 

You wanted Josie to have that bond with her father — the same one you’d always craved as a little girl. But you also wanted to be there for dinnertime, bathtime, storytime, and bedtime. You didn’t want to miss a week of her life. 

“I am starving.” You told Javier as you collapsed onto the sofa beside him. You dragged your hands over your face, sighing heavily before you leaned forward and grabbed the plate he’d prepared for you. “Thank you.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” Javier angled himself towards you, watching you with rapt attention. “I missed you.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his gaze, “I missed you too.” You dipped your egg roll into the sauce, before you took a bite. You shifted towards him, leaning against his arm. “It was so weird.”

Javier curled his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Aside from missing us, did you have a good time?”

“The conference went really well. I think the force up there is going to follow the model I’ve been implementing here. They don’t understand the importance of informants—“

“No one ever does.”

“Right?” You laughed, taking another bite of your egg roll. “There was a lot of evening socializing that I wasn’t really interested in.” You raised a brow as you tilted your head to look at him. 

Javier pressed a kiss to your cheek, “What? Afraid you’d have a repeat of the first night?” 

You snorted, “Yeah. I mean, I’m all for getting bought drinks, but don’t try to slip me your room key.” You made a face as you scooped up a fork full of fried rice. You chewed it down a little too fast and ended up burping and hiccuping at the same time. 

“I mean, what a catch.” Javier teased, keeping his arm curled around you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Not bad manners, just good food.” You leaned forward to grab the beer off the coffee table, washing down the fried rice before taking a bite of the chicken. “As I was saying—“ You gave him a look. “I wasn’t looking to get hit on at the hotel bar.” 

Javier rubbed at the back of his neck, “They’d probably wonder how you ended up with me.”

“Javier,” You rolled your eyes, slapping his leg playfully. 

“Baby, you’re gorgeous.”

“You just want to get laid tonight.” You retorted hotly, running your tongue over your bottom lip as you met his gaze. 

“Four days is a long time.” Javier pointed out as he traced his fingers over your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips. 

“Were your hands not enough, Javi?” You questioned, leaning in to press your lips to his. 

“I didn’t.”

Your brows rose upwards, “Really?”

“Figured I could wait until you got home,” He drawled out, leaning in to steal another kiss, his tongue playing over your lips. 

“I guess I should eat faster then,” You laughed, winding your fingers through his hair as you brushed your nose against his. “So you can eat.”

Javier snorted.

“Though, we could always go to the main course.” You suggested, taking another bite of chicken. “My vibrator was a poor imitation of the real deal.”

“You used it?” He shook his head. 

You shrugged, “What else was I going to do at the hotel at six in the evening? Don’t be too jealous.” 

Javier ran his hand over your thigh, his fingers sliding inwards over the inner fabric of your pants. “You should’ve called.”

“I know, but I knew you’d be getting Josie ready for bed.” You sighed and pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek. “Not to mention, I was pretty stressed and it was not as alleviating as I hoped.”

He pressed a kiss to the curve of your jaw, “Still stressed?”

“Two more bites of dinner and I’m yours.” You promised him, shoving half the egg roll into your mouth as you hastily chewed it down. “They’re not terrible nuked.”

“They were good when they were fresh.”

You nudged him in the ribs, “I’m sorry, take that up with the traffic gods. I would’ve loved to be home hours ago.” You licked the sauce off your thumb, before leaning forward to put your plate back on the coffee table. 

“I’ll light a candle,” He taunted, his eyes raking over your face before he hesitated, “You should finish eating.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I ate half a bag of pretzel sticks on the drive.” You took a swig of beer, before sitting it next to your plate. “You know I’m not against midnight breakfast.”

Javier shook his head, his lips drawing up at the corner a warm smile. “Take your time, enjoy your dinner.”

“Javi?”

He arched a brow, “Hmm?”

“I’ve been in a car for nine hours.” You said slowly as you moved to straddle his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders. “And thinking about coming home to you was the one thing that kept me from partaking in road rage.”

He ran his hands over your hips, one hand sliding around to grab your ass as he looked up at you. “Who knew I had so much power.” Javier smirked, leaning up to kiss you.

You dragged your fingers through his hair as you sank into the kiss, your tongue playing over his bottom lip with a soft groan. You pulled back with a grin, “You have a lot of power.” 

“Couch or bed?”

“Bed.” You whispered as you brushed your nose against his, “I want out of these pants.” You rolled your hips downwards slowly, before you climbed off of his lap. 

“I love the way you think.” Javier chuckled as he followed you down the hallway. 

You walked backwards into the bedroom, meeting his eyes with a smirk of your own, “I’ve been known to have a few good ideas.” 

Javier closed the distance between the two of you, a hand at your hip and the other at your jaw as he descended upon you. It felt like a week’s worth of desire pent up into that one kiss and it lit a flame of need within you.

He guided you back onto the bed and you held him wrestle your pants off your legs, leaning up on your elbows as he tossed them aside. “Still want the main course baby?” 

You nodded your head, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and sliding them down your thighs. Javier caught ahold of them and tugged them off. 

Javier bent down and pressed a kiss to your lower belly as his hand ran up along the inside of your thigh. “I’ve missed you so fucking much, baby.”

“Then show me.” You taunted as you tugged at his hair. Javier dragged his hand up higher until his fingers reached your cunt, his fingers dragging over your folds. 

You sank back against the bed, savoring the feel of his fingers as he played over your sensitive flesh, stoking the flames of arousal there. 

Javier pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lower stomach, before scraping his teeth over your soft skin there. He worked two fingers into you, thrusting them in and out of you twice before he pulled back. 

He leaned over you to catch lips again and you managed to reach downward between the two of you to work his jeans open. Javier groaned against your lips as you worked your hand inside, palming his rigid cock through his boxers. 

“Happy to see me?” You murmured against his lips as he drew back just enough to catch a breath. 

“Very.” Javier bumped his noses against yours, before he kissed you again. 

You tugged his boxers down his hips, getting them down about mid-thigh to where his jeans were before you gave up. You were both half dressed — it didn’t matter. 

Javier’s hand curled around your hip as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. You curled a leg around him, trying to angle yourself towards him. 

“Fuck!” You gasped out as his cock slid into you, filling you so deliciously. “That’s it, Javi.” You urged, curling your fingers around the back of his neck as you met his eyes.

“You feel so fucking good.” Javier drawled out as he leaned back, his hands gripping at your hips tightly as he started thrusting into you in earnest. 

You grabbed curled your hands around his forearms, gripping at them tightly as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts. Your lips parted as a breathy moan escaped you. “Javier.” 

“Is that what you want, baby?” He questioned, dragging his hand along the length of the leg you had wrapped around his hips. “Shit—“ Javier hissed out, his grip tightening at your hip as his pace faltered. You knew that face. 

“It’s okay.” You promised him, grabbing at his shoulder as you pulled yourself up. You tilted your head, lips brushing against his as you rolled your hips. “Let go.” You whispered against his mouth as you curled your fingers around the back of his neck. 

“Fucking… baby, I’m—“

You cut him off with a searing kiss before he had the chance to finish. He released his hold on your leg, slipping his hand between you where his cock was driving into you, but you intercepted him. You interlaced your fingers with his and that was all it took to send him careening over the edge.

Your own release was just out of reach, but there was something almost equally pleasurable about watching Javier come undone for you. To feel his cock throb as it spilled within you. 

“It’s okay,” You whispered, winding your fingers through his hair as you laid back and took him with you. You were both hanging halfway off the bed, but you really didn’t mind. 

“Is it?” He grumbled, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be.” You ran your hand down his back. “I still had fun.” You turned your head as much as you could to press a kiss to whatever available bare patch of skin you could find.

Javier groaned quietly as he pushed himself up on his hands, towering over you. “Let me make it up to you.”

You shook your head, tracing a finger over his bottom lip. “You can make it up to me by getting undressed so we can go to sleep. Okay?”

“You sure?” He questioned, lifting a hand to cup your cheek. Javier searched your eyes as you nodded, “I’m gonna grab something to clean up with. Don’t move.”

You drew in a sharp breath as he slipped out of you. The moment had definitely passed, as disappointing as it was. You were stressed and exhausted. 

You sat up and peeled off your shirt, tossing it off the side of the bed as you waited for Javier to return from the bathroom. “I need to brush my teeth too,” You told him as he knelt down at the foot of the bed as he wiped off the mess that had been left behind. 

Javier pressed a kiss to your leg just on the inside of our knee, “Didn't mean you make your homecoming a letdown.”

“Good thing you didn’t let me down then.” You told him with a warm smile as you held him stand back up as you rose. “You’re more than welcome to wake me up however you see fit… but not before seven.”

“I can arrange that,” Javier’s lips cracked into a faint smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too.” You brushed your fingers over his cheek. “I missed my bed… and it’s other occupant.”

Javier snorted, “Even if he’s early to the party?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you headed for the bathroom to brush your teeth, “I only care that you were at the party.” You quipped, firing a finger gun at him before you ducked into the bathroom.