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messers-moony · 3 years ago

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One in the Same | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: Reader notices Draco going through the same pain as her ex lover and desperately wants fix her faults.

“Mr.Malfoy, can you stay after class, please?”

“‘Course, Professor Black.”

An average day in second year. Professor Black - Y/n - taught History of Magic after Professor Binns decided his time was up. Too long of teaching sleeping students who could care less about his lessons. However, once Y/n took over the position, kid's grades improved and people were no longer sleeping. She made things fun and inventive.

After class time was up, everyone filed out of the classroom aside from the blond Slytherin boy. Draco has always been on the good side of Professor Black. She was always extremely kind to him despite his rather sour attitude at times. But Draco was always hesitant to initiate a conversation to really speak his feelings to her. But this was the first time she had him stay after class.

Y/n pulled out the chair in front of her desk as he sat down. His white-blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. His young face, not yet defined. Y/n with her h/c hair and curious glinted e/c eyes.

“Draco, I want to start this by saying I don’t know what your home life is like.” Y/n began, “I went to Hogwarts with your parents, though, and he wasn’t always kind. Your mother was cordial with me, though.”

“If you don’t find me intruding, what’s your home life like?”

“I- Um- It’s good.” Stammered Draco, “Father and Mother are always kind.”

Y/n’s eyes glinted with curiosity, “Lucius tolerated me.”

“Tolerated you?”

“I married one of his best friends.” Y/n chuckled, “He didn’t have a choice.”

Draco tilted his head, “Sirius?”

“Oh heavens no!” Y/n exclaimed, “Regulus. Sirius Black's brother.”

“My- My dead cousin?” He queried.

She nodded, “Yes. I married Regulus right after graduation. His parents weren’t thrilled, but he loved me so, here we are.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were his parents like?”

“Horrible. The worst.” Y/n spat, “Sirius got the worst of it, but Regulus did occasionally too.”

“Walburga and Orion were awful. Using the crucio curse is not a great punishment for kids.” Draco’s eyes widened, “Both of them had scars from the curse. Sirius ran away at sixteen, and Regulus was used as their puppet. So used that at the age of eighteen, he felt like he had to prove himself. Which inevitably got him killed.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“Well, would you like my honest answer or my Professor answer?”

“Honest, please.”

“Between you and I, I still haven’t gotten over it.” Y/n shrugged, “I see something that reminds me of him, and I’m back at the start all over again. It takes time, and it’s taken plenty of time, but here I am, doing what I love. Teaching kids.”

“Anyways.” Y/n smiled, “You’re dismissed. I’m sorry I took up your time. However, if you ever feel the need to speak with me, let me know. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Draco picked up his bag, rustling as he stood up. The blond boy was still digesting all the information he gained. He couldn’t believe that his cousins got the crucio curse for a punishment. He thought his parents were bad. Theirs was way worse. Draco was about to walk out of the classroom but turned last minute to look at his Professor.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Draco?”

“There’s-“ He swallowed, “There’s a Quidditch match this Saturday. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. If you have the time, I’d like you to come.”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Y/n smiled.

He walked out of the room without a second stop. He felt better about himself now. He had someone who genuinely seemed to care about him. Draco didn’t trust her just yet, but he wouldn’t be opposed to speaking with her as he had just now in the future. Professor Black had always been open and honest with her students. Perhaps that’s why kids liked her so much.

Saturday arrived quicker than Y/n would’ve hoped for one reason. She, herself, didn’t own any Slytherin-colored merchandise anymore. But there was a box in her quarters that she brought with her to Hogwarts every year. Regulus’s old clothes meaning all his scarfs, ties, button-ups, pants, hats, etc. Y/n couldn’t seem to get rid of them. Frankly, she didn’t want to get rid of them either.

Carefully she pulled the cardboard box from the top of her closet. Taking a pair of scissors and breaking the tape seal she had put on it multiple years ago. Inside laid many pieces of the evergreen and silver cloth. Y/n’s hands gravitated to the green and silver scarf. Bringing it to her nose, she was shocked. It still smelt like him. Godric, this was going to be more challenging than she initially thought.

Nonetheless, she put it around her neck along with her button-up and tight-fit pants. Y/n put on the green gloves, much too big for her but had fit Regulus perfectly, the tie, and the scarf. It brought her a sense of nostalgia. It made Y/n feel like she was a fifth-year going out with Regulus on a date to Hogsmeade. But she wasn’t fifteen or in fifth year. Y/n was a Professor and a full-grown adult. And Regulus was dead.

The game was going well for Slytherin at the beginning. But like most Quidditch games, things can change rather quickly. Ravenclaw was studious. That was for sure. They played skillfully. Y/n sat in the Professor stands with the rest of her colleagues. She sat between McGonagall and Flitwick. But white-blond hair caught her attention in front of her. Lucius Malfoy was here spectating his son.

McGonagall nudged her, “Where’d you get the Slytherin gear?”

“Regulus.”

“How have you been, dear?” McGonagall questioned softly, “It’s been a whirlwind, but nothing I can do will bring him back, so ‘m still here for him. It’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/n replied.

Minerva placed a hand on the girl's knee, “If you need anything, let me know.”

“‘Course, Professor.”

The game ended tragically. Slytherin had just tied the game when Cho Chang had caught sight of the snitch. Sadly, she was able to grasp it before Draco. Leaving Slytherin with two-hundred and thirty points while Ravenclaw ended with three-hundred and eighty points. Lucius seemed furious with this conclusion and stormed off the stands. Y/n knew something was up, so she followed him.

She came up in a deserted hallway in Hogwarts. Draco stood - now changed into the usual Hogwarts robes - and his father stood before him. From the view she had, Draco’s back was to her, and his father was towering over the boy.

Lucius had a cold and icy voice, “You are insufferable!”

“You had one job, Draco! One! Catch the damn snitch.” He scolded, “Perhaps you were too daft to figure that out?”

“‘M sorry, father. I didn’t mean to. Honest.” Draco was pleading and begging for mercy; it made Y/n’s heartache at the familiar words.

“Mum, Dad, I seriously didn’t mean to!” Regulus had cried after breaking a vase, “Excuses, excuses, they won’t get you anywhere in life, boy!” Orion shouted.

Tears collected in his silver eyes, “‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!”

Walburga pointed her wand at him, “Crucio.”

Lucius scoffed, “Malfoy’s don’t cry, wipe those tears.”

“Should‘ve sent you to Durmstrang. You come to Hogwarts and forget everything I’ve ever taught you.”

“Father, I really didn’t mean to! She just got there faster than me.” Draco begged.

Y/n saw it before Draco did. Lucius raised his palm slowly, and Draco flinched. Y/n saw the pale hand rise into the air, and without a second thought, she ran in front of the young boy, taking the blow that was meant for Lucius’ son. Draco heard the sound but never felt the impact. Carefully he opened his eyes to see Professor Black standing in front of him, a hand on her cheek.

“How dare you get in the way!” Lucius yelled, “How dare I? How dare you for trying to leave a hand on your son!” Y/n retorted her bright cheek red from impact.

Draco was appalled, “Draco is your son! Not a toy or a puppet, and I will not stand for this!”

“You don’t have to, half breed.” Lucius seethed, “As you said, he’s my son. Not yours.”

“I could give less fucks!” Y/n exclaimed, “Draco is my student. I will not be having you lay your hands on my students.”

Lucius scoffed, “Where’s your child, mm?”

“Right, you don’t have one.” Lucius answered, “Because your blood-traitor of a husband decided to get himself killed!”

“Regulus was not a blood-traitor for trying to right his wrongs!”

“Regulus and Sirius were no different from each other.”

“Leave them out of this!”

“Oh, so it’s still a soft spot for you?”

“So help me, I’ll-“

“Petrificus Totalus.” Draco stated while holding his wand, causing his father to fall to the ground, paralyzed.

Y/n stared at the body in shock, “Draco.”

She didn’t even have time to reprimand him before he burst into tears. Y/n turned quickly and embraced him into a much-needed hug while the boy sobbed on her shoulder. Y/n’s hands went through Draco’s white-blond hair gently while he let every emotion out. She pulled away and wiped the tears on his cheeks.

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.” Y/n informed, and Draco nodded, “Th- Thank you, Professor.”

Y/n smiled and sent him off to the Slytherin common room, leaving her to deal with Lucius. The Professor dragged him to Madam Pomfrey to deal with. Later that night, in her quarters, while brushing her teeth, she noticed the considerable bruise covering her left cheek: Blue and purple hues mixed to create a dark blue-violet looking color, almost grey.

Sixth year was now here. Y/n’s fourth year of teaching at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t have asked for a better job. On September 1st, she went through the floo-network to arrive in her teacher's quarters. Looking at the time, it seemed that students were just about reaching onto the grounds when a knock sounded at her door.

“Come in!”

A blond boy, much taller, defined face, and grey eyes had just walked into her teacher's quarters, “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Draco.” Y/n greeted smiling brightly, “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

Draco didn’t know where to begin as water collected on his lower lash line, and gently he pulled up his left sleeve. Godric, it felt like deva Vu all over again.

“Y- Y/n.” Regulus called through his tears, “What’s wrong, baby?” Y/n asked, sitting beside him on the four-poster bed.

Regulus couldn’t help the tears that helplessly fell down his cheeks. His eyes were silver and blurred. Cheeks flushed and hair knotted. This past summer had been a shit show for him with Sirius running away and just everything that had gone on. Regulus had never felt this hopeless before.

“I- I need your help.”

“Of course, anything, baby.”

He swallowed, “Just know that I’ll love you forever. Okay?”

“‘Course.”

Gently, he released a breath of air and pulled up his left sleeve. The combined snake and skull only meaning one thing. Regulus was now a death eater to the Dark Lord. Tears sprung in Y/n’s eyes but not because of disappointment but because of worry. She didn’t know what she would do if Regulus were to be gone.

“They forced me!” Regulus pleaded, “Please, please don’t leave me.”

Regulus was weeping, and Y/n took him into her arms, “Shh, shh, I’m not disappointed. I’m just worried about you.”

“I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna do this.” Regulus whimpered, “Please help me.”

“I’m gonna help you ‘m love. Don’t worry.”

“What happened this summer?” Y/n asked as Draco pulled back down his sleeve.

“Auntie Bella.”

Draco was trying so hard to swallow his tears as his Professor was now face to face with him, “Draco.”

How was her voice so sweet and calm, almost like she had done this before, “It’s okay to show emotion. It’s being human. Let it go, darling.”

Just like that, the dam broke, and Draco was a sobbing mess again. How was it that Professor Black had always managed to feel more like home than his actual parents? What had his mum done for him while Bellatrix was giving him the mark? She had just stood there watching pain contort on his face. Y/n felt more like a mother to him, more like family to him.

“Shh. Shh. You’re safe here, Draco.”

“They- They want me-“ He was choking on his words, and Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, “Take deep breaths and then explain. Okay?”

He began to inhale and exhale air at a slow pace, “They want me to-“ Draco swallowed, “They want me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Okay.” Y/n stated, letting out a breath of air, “You and I will get through this.”

“You- You promise?”

“I promise.”

Perhaps it was instinct now for Draco to stay after in her classroom. After every lesson, Draco would visit her in her classroom just to be in her company or to talk. What was it about Y/n that drew these people close to her? Ones with broken souls who believed that couldn’t be helped. Was it her kindness? Perhaps it was her caring nature—too many variables to pinpoint.

The moment Y/n heard crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she knew something was wrong. Approaching cautiously, she saw Harry Potter doing the same behind Draco, who stood facing the basin, dried tears on his cheeks. Everything happened too fast for Y/n to understand. But when Harry spoke an incantation that left Draco bleeding out on the floor, everything changed.

She was jumping into action hastily, falling to her knees beside the blond-haired boy while Harry was almost in tears at his mistake. Y/n took her wand out and began muttering spells to heal the boy's chest. Harry was now in a heap on the floor, tears filling his glorious emerald eyes while the Professor took care of his harm. It took ten minutes before the bleeding stopped, and Y/n turned to face Harry.

“Harry.”

“‘M sorry. I- I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here.” Y/n replied, and Harry looked like a mess, “I need you to go to the Gryffindor tower and not speak of this to anyone, okay?”

He nodded and stood up sluggishly. Harry left the bathroom, leaving Y/n with an unconscious Draco. Sighing heavily, she picked up the boy and lugged him to the hospital wing, where he was taken care of. The following day an owl was pecking at Y/n’s window, leading her to wake up and take the note from the owl’s foot.

“Draco won’t stop calling for you.”

Y/n freshened up, brushing her teeth, hair, and a change of clothes before making her way to the Hospital Wing. It was quite a ways away from. Her section of the school, but if Draco needed her, she needed to be there even if it was six o’clock in the morning. Her shoes made a light tap along with the wood as she walked and hesitantly opened the big door to the infirmary.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Madam Pomfrey said with her hand over her heart, “Draco has been asking for you, my dear.”

She gave a tiny smile as Pomfrey pointed to where Draco was lying. Carefully she stripped back some of the white curtain and pulled a chair beside his bed. Y/n took his hand in his. It was cold and pale. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine holding Regulus’ hand in the same exact way after a horrible Bludger accident.

An hour later, Draco finally woke up, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Professor, you- you came.”

She smiled, “You called for me, of course, I’d come.”

Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position, his grey eyes locked on her warm e/c ones, “Sorry, I just, didn’t expect you to come.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel okay. Little sore but nothing I haven’t been through.”

Y/n smiled sadly, “I knew a boy just like you, you know?”

“You did?” Draco asked, and she nodded, “I did.”

“Could you tell me about him?”

“Well, he was strong, smart, and closed off. His home life wasn’t too great either and was forced into being what his parents were too.” Draco looked eager for more, “Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. He no longer cared about his parent's approval. He just wanted to be him, but by then, it was too late.”

“Too late?”

She nodded, “He was already in too late, so he did the only thing he thought of. Betraying his parents, his family. He was so caught up in what he was doing he didn’t realize what he was doing, and now, because of that, he’s no longer with us.”

“But you aren’t too late, Draco.” Y/n stressed, tightening her grip on his hand, “Let me save you. Let me help you.”

Tears ebbed at the corners of his eyes, “Please.”

Y/n took him in her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “You aren’t alone. I’m here for you.”

It took months, but everything was over. It felt like time had stopped. Y/n could remember the terror standing outside of Hogwarts as the death eaters stood on the other side. Narcissa was calling for him - the boy who had no choice - and Draco was panicking as Lucius began calling his name.

Draco swallowed and shook his head.

It was the feeling of relief that brought Y/n solace. Draco took the step that Regulus took, and she would make sure he didn’t pay for it. The relief felt like a breath of fresh air now that the war was over. Y/n had stepped into the Great Hall panicking, hoping, praying that he was okay. At that moment she saw it.

He was crouched in the corner. People were glaring at him all around. Draco saw. He saw the Weasleys crying over Fred. He saw Harry look empty, staring at Remus Lupin and Nymphadora. The way Lavender Brown’s parents sobbed over her dead body. He saw the way Dennis Creevey was yelling and screaming in pain at seeing his deceased older brother. Draco could remember how close they were.

Nonetheless, he stood up and ran into her arms: his solace, home, and safe place. Draco couldn’t remember what it felt like to be held this tight. He dug his nose into her neck and just remembered to breathe. She pulled away to see a small smile playing on his lips. Y/n cupped his cheeks gently.

“I’m so, so proud of you.” Y/n smiled, “I can't explain how proud I am of you. You did it.”

Draco smiled and leaned into her hands, “Thanks, mum.”

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years ago

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a year in the life | rockstar! s.s.

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x writer!reader

main work: i wanna know what love is

season: autumn 🍁

a/n: in celebration of 4 major works of mine turning one this year (my babies, cannot believe it’s been a year) and based on the reboot of gilmore girls, i will be revisiting my works per season. we are starting with autumn and rockstar!seb. hope you enjoy xx

Y/N laid on the big chez lounge couch in the middle of her living room, surrounded by her children’s toys, with a large bowl of Doritos on her lap as the Real Housewives played on the background. For the very first time since forever, she was alone at home; Jess and Marion were at their respective schools while Sebastian was busy in the studio, doing some rearrangements to a new album. She loved the three of them more than anything but she knew that she would’ve never had the chance to eat Doritos without Sebastian complaining it was unhealthy for her or her children trying to take a bite. Lately, all she wants is to lay low, bask in her leave from work and watch some trashy TV.

As her eyes were getting heavier and heavier with sleep when the front door opened, sending her back into alert mood. Luckily, it wasn’t no one trying to break in but her husband who still couldn’t open doors without making a big ruckus about it.

- I’m sorry, bunny. - he stepped back as he recognised his wife’s sleepy face. - I thought you’d be in the bedroom.

- Can’t move. - she pointed at her bulging bump covered by one of his old jumpers which seemed to be the only thing that fully covered her at this particular stage. Sebastian chuckled, walking over to her to quickly kiss her, hand caressing her bump through the jumper. - Didn’t expect you to be home so early.

- I can see. - he pointed at the bowl of Doritos on her lap. - You’re supposed to be the prudent one.

- I’m carrying your offspring. It makes me make bad decisions. - she teased, cuddling against him as he sat by her side, worn out slightly loose black leather jacket still on. - How are the boys?

- Fighting about who gets to be godfather this time.

- Did you tell them my brother is gonna be the godfather?

- Now, where would the fun be in that, bunny? - he smirked, with that boyish like looks he still managed to remain after all these years.

- Stop it. - she leaned towards him to kiss him.

- How are you feeling today? - his hand mindlessly rubbed her bump, feeling the little moves of the baby whenever the baby moved. - Little one is a bit feisty today.

- It’s been like this all of last night. I think I might be closer to labour than we think.

- Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve driven the kids to school, honey love.

- You needed to sleep. - she groaned as she stretched her legs. - Besides, Marion is staying with your mum today so I wanted to spend some time with her before she went.

- No kids tonight? - he leaned over to kiss her collarbone. - How long has it been?

- As long as I’ve been pregnant. - she pushed him away playfully. - Jess is not going.

- Why not? Jess loves my mum. Is he sick? Urgh, is the flu going around his class again? We need to put him into a better school, those kids at his school are always s...

- Seb, stop. - she rolled her eyes, smiling at the same time at how he’d gone from let it be to constant rambling about his children’s wellbeing. - He just wants to be home tonight and he’s been a little sad lately.

- You’re sure he’s not sick? Because there’s this private school which tests kids for all those flu things.

- He’s not sick. He’s just got ... a bit of a lovebug. He got like this when I was last pregnant with Marion.

- Well, at least he hasn’t decided that the baby is just not coming. - Sebastian referred to Marion. Their daughter had just decided there was no baby coming around, even after being offered her own bedroom with her own bathroom, just for herself. - I’ll go pick him up, make it a whole thing. Maybe even pass by Al’s ... get you that pasta you really like.

- You’re just trying to make me forget that you’re the reason we’re moving houses.

- Y/N, this house has always been too small.

- That’s because you need a whole room for your guitars alone.

She’d spend the best part of her initial married years trying to convince Sebastian to either get a storage unit to put all his guitars in or to just merge it with his office yet, he’d always come back with an excuse. “Honey love, they need to be displayed”, “Bunny I would just get distracted if they were in my office” he would tell her with his rockstar like charm which she thought was strong enough to resist, yet how can she say no when he immediately shifts from boyish smile to having her pressed against the wall of that very same room, pounding into her as if he was an up and coming rockstar and her his favourite groupie. With the need for that bedroom, their once spacious apartment they bought when she was pregnant with Jess was becoming too small. Normally Y/N would be okay with it but being 8 months pregnant during the fall where it constantly rains in New York, moving seemed like the last thing she’d like to do and just thinking about it made her tired already. After all, she could barely walk to the kitchen without feeling tired or taking a short break in the middle of the path. She thought that after two pregnancies, the third one would be a walk in the park. Turns out it’s more like a run in the park, except the park is on fire and she’s barefoot.

- Honey love, asking me to get rid of my guitars is like asking you to get rid of your five copies of Emma.

- They’re in different languages. - she argued back.

- They’re different models, besides, we can finally have a guest bedroom. You always wanted a guest bedroom.

- Sure then maybe my grandfather will come visit more often. How about that? - Sebastian chuckled at her answer. - I’m not joking. You get me pregnant, you get to be annoyed by my grandfather.

- You’re acting like this is my fault when you were the one who wore fishnets with a leather skirt. I’m only human.

- Fine, 10% my fault, 90% you fault. That’s my final offer.

- You sure?

- Yes. You see, you are a sex maniac who cannot be controlled.

- That’s not what you wrote about me. - he smirked. - You said I had more soul than just a sex pot.

- Do not quote my own words at me.

- You bought my old guitar.

- Urgh ... - she rolled her eyes. Sebastian grinned, happy he’d won the debate. - Just go make the other mums jealous please.

- Look at you, using me for my sex appeal only.

- No. I just really enjoy being the powerful mum.

- Yeah? What’s that like?

- Constant questions about if we do weird sex blood rituals. Then mysterious answers, so they all fear you and don’t force you to attend PTA meetings on date nights.

- I gotta say, bunny ... we got this parenting thing covered.

- We do.

- When I come back, you better not have a bowl of Doritos on your belly.

- I’ll do whatever I want.

- Sure, bunny, if you walk to the kitchen by yourself ...

- Low move, Stan. Low.

- You love me. - he chuckled, grabbing his keys from the trinket dish by the entry door. - See you soon, bunny.

- Love you. - she scrunched her face in a little smile which he couldn’t help but smile back.

Sebastian liked to pick up Marion and Jess from school. His schedule normally meant Y/N, who had a more 9-5 job, was the one who’d do the drop offs and collections so he’d always meet them at home but whenever he could pick them up, he’d be the first one there. He just loved to see his two babies come out of school in their little uniforms which he incredibly hated when they first enrolled but now couldn’t help but find incredibly adorable. He also loved to see how both his children came out of school. Marion would be the one who’d take the longest, surrounded by all her friends and probably nursing a scrape or two on her knee as if kindergarten 2-3 year old was a big fighting ground while Jess would come out as quickly as he could.

He parked slightly in front of his son’s school, coming out of the car and leaning against it. The parents’ eyes were immediately on him, maybe it was due to the star power or, most likely, it was because he was wearing a leather jacket, dark shades and his neck tattoo could be seen peaking out the collar of his jacket. His shoes crinkled the fallen leaves on the floor, avoiding those looks as he waited for his son. He knew who he was and he was not going to change it because he became a father, he is a good father, he knows that. The bell rang and a swarm of children came rushing out of the school, and they say birth rates are low. He took his sunglasses off, trying to pin point his son in the middle of all different aged children.

- DAD! - he turned his head to the memorable voice, crutching down as he son rushed to him. Jess wrapped his arms around his father, little childish giggles as Sebastian pulled him off the floor.

- Hey, buddy. How was school?

- We did hand turkeys.

- Hand turkeys? No way, that’s so cool. - he opened up the car’s passenger’s seat, sticking around to check if he fastened his seatbelt correctly before taking the driver’s seat. - It’s just gonna be us three today, bud. You, me and mummy. We getting Al’s and some ice cream.

- Why didn’t mummy come?

- Mummy is very tired, buddy. The baby is kicking a lot, won’t let the baby sleep.

- Oh ... - Sebastian saw his son’s face grow sadder.

- What do you want from Al’s, bud? You can get whatever you want.

- Really?

- Yeah.

The little restaurant had soon become a staple in their family life. Sebastian had. discovered by accident after accidentally burning dinner for Y/N’s. He wasn’t already too popular with Y/N’s family so he knew he had to fix it and there it was, the small little restaurant filled with delicious food. Now, it was just a Friday night tradition yet today was special, almost nostalgic to when Y/N, Sebastian and Jess had their first home. Back when Y/N and him were new parents and would trip on every toy in the apartment. God, those were the days.

- Dad? - Jess pulled at his sleeve while the two were waiting in the queue.

- Yeah, bud? - Sebastian picked him up, already understanding the signs of whenever he wanted to be held.

- I ... The baby’s not coming for a while, right?

- Why, Jessie? What did Marion say?

- She didn’t say anything ... uhm, it’s gonna be three of us now.

- Yeah. We’re gonna get a new big place, we can even get a dog or a cat. You always wanted a cat, didn’t you?

- But, now I’m third.

- What do you mean? - Sebastian furrowed his brows at the comment.

- Well, when Marion was a baby you and mummy were always with her but she’s still a baby and now there’s a new baby, so I’m gonna be third. - Sebastian’s heart broke at that comment. Now it made sense. - And ... you’re not home a lot and mummy is gonna be busy with the baby.

- Hey, you’re not third. - he rubbed his son’s back, kissing the side of his head, soothing him to the best of his ability. - You want me to be home more?

- No, daddy ... you like doing music.

- Hm ... how about you come to the studio with me when you don’t have school?

- Really? But you said I’m too little.

- Well, you’re gonna be a big brother again, I think it’s time.

- Really?

- Yeah. - he smiled him, his smile reflecting back at him.

- Faye.

- What?

- We should name the baby Faye.

- Faye? You want your baby sister to be named Faye?

- Yes.

- Well ... Faye it is.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan au #rockstar! sebastian stan

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niksixx · 3 years ago

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Plus One

FINALLY!!! After a few months’ hiatus, I am proud to announce the ending of Plus One. It has been a pleasure writing this for you. Please enjoy part 7, and don’t forget to leave feedback.

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Pia’s POV

I take one look at Josh and Jackie, and I can feel the love on every level. It’s the kind of love that can make you shake with envy and question whether everyone can find it.

And when they kiss for the first time as husband and wife, the church erupts into applause from the guests, hoots and hollers from the wedding party. There’s a few tears sliding down the apples of my cheeks and before I can flick them away with my finger, I feel the gentle touch and warmth from Nikki’s finger brushing away the salty tears. He gives me a small smile before turning his attention back to the bride and groom.

He hasn’t spoken much to me today despite being my plus one to my own cousin’s wedding. I question whether he’s just in a mood, knowing I haven't done anything to cause this distance between us. It’s Josh and Jackie’s day after all. I don’t want to be preoccupied with my own drama, if that’s even what you could call it.

The reception hall gleams with silver, white, and gold for their Christmas wedding, and it looks like something out of a Hallmark movie. Cocktail hour, luckily, isn’t as awkward as I’d imagined it would be. I took the time to introduce Nikki to my distant relatives and close family, and he managed to charm each person he met. Whether his hand was entwined with mine or lightly resting on the small of my back, he sold our relationship, especially to Aunt Rita, who made Nikki promise her a dance.

We made small conversation at dinner, not as much as I would have liked. There was definitely something going on with Nikki, and I vowed to get to the bottom of it before the night ended. Even with his hand resting on my inner thigh under the table, I wasn’t satisfied.

After dancing with Aunt Rita, Nikki had found me and guided me to the dance floor. With his hands linked around my waist, my own entwined around his neck, we slowly swayed to the song. I should have kept my mouth shut and enjoyed the feeling of being safely tucked in Nikki’s arms, but the words came out before they’d registered in my brain.

“Are we okay?”

I wasn’t surprised by the confusion on his face. It was clear he didn’t want me to know something was wrong, so the confusion was quickly replaced by a look of neutrality. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”

For some reason, I can’t look him in the eye. “Something is off with you, Nikki. You’ve barely spoken to me today. Actually, forget today. The past few months have been more awkward between us than anything I can remember, starting after Janielle’s party. So, I’m asking you, are we okay?”

“Pia--.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Pia,” Nikki says firmly, fingers digging into my back to grab my attention. His eyes bore into mine, and for only a split second my breath is caught in my throat. “Not now. Please.”

My jaw ticks angrily, and with as much subtlety as I can master, I break away from Nikki’s hold and excuse myself from the reception. Frustrated tears cloud my vision as I quickly race outside the reception venue into the dark night.

“Pia.” Heavy footsteps chase after me.

I bite my tongue and keep walking, not willing myself to answer him.

“Pia!”

“Fuck you!”

It stuns us both. Nikki retracts, mouth pressed together in a hard, thin line. My chest heaves with every strangled breath, and I will myself not to let the tears fall. There’s no chance I’ll let Nikki see me weak.

“What is your problem?” Nikki suddenly asks defensively.

“My problem?” I spit, crossing my arms. I look like a child, feel like a child, but hell if I’m not the angriest I’ve been in a long time. “My problem is that I don’t know what your problem is. For months, you’ve barely said a word to me. And then I confront you about it, and you have the nerve to try and shut me up?”

His jaw ticks, mirroring my anger. “I have a lot to say, but I don’t know where to start and I don’t want to do this here.” He grabs my hand and pulls me with him. I want to protest, but I’m finally getting some type of answer from him, so it’s best I keep my mouth shut.

The walk feels like forever, but when I finally glance up from my shoes, my brows furrow. We’re right smack in the middle of the garden behind the reception hall. It’s brightly lit and quiet with the exception of the soft drops from the fountain. It’s an oddly romantic setting for a somewhat hostile situation.

And he hasn’t let go of my hand yet. In fact, his grasp seems to have gotten tighter. Not that I mind. It’s the first genuine gesture he’s shown in weeks.

“Nikki, what are we doing here? I want to go inside.”

“Not yet,” he says softly, eyes dodging my gaze. “Just...not yet. I have so much going on inside my head right now, and there’s no starting point. Just scrambled thoughts that don’t make any damn sense to me.”

I sigh, pursing my lips together. “Then start with the most important thought.”

No hesitation, just honesty. “I’m in love with you.”

My spine straightens. Blood rushes to my cheeks, my ears, all the while my brain fails to process the words. “I--You...what?”

He laughs a little, dropping his hand from mine. It’s not followed by anything else, just silence. He stares at me instead, hoping I’ll say something, or do something, but the only thing I can do is channel all my pent up feelings into strength, and before either one of us realizes it, Nikki flies backward into the fountain.

I’m dazed myself, looking from one outstretched arm to the other as Nikki resurfaces from the icy water. He stands, teetering a bit, before flicking his hair from his eyes. “Part of me thinks I deserve that.” There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And the other part thinks you’re entirely too dry.”

The cold water sloshes over me as I’m pulled into the fountain. I flail my arms wildly when I’m met with the cool December air, and I manage to push myself to a stand. Fists balled, I use my knuckles to wipe my eyes, no doubt resembling a drenched raccoon. “I could kill you!”

“You started it!” Nikki retorts, throwing his arms in the air. It’s the truth, so I say nothing back. All I can do is stare, and when I stare long enough, a smile breaks through. And a laugh falls from Nikki’s grin, and soon we’re laughing at each other, laughing at this fucked up situation we’ve found ourselves in.

And when the energy between us settles into calmness, I speak. “I remember the moment when I first knew I was in love with you.” Nikki’s eyes narrow, daring me to go on. “Junior year. When I first started making my own lipstick. You sat with me for hours and let me try them on you.”

The corners of his lips tilt slightly at the memory. “The purple one stained my mouth for days.”

I cringe. “Yeah, not my best formula. Sorry about that.”

Nikki laughs, and then it’s silent all over again. I tug my lip between my teeth anxiously. I wait and wait and wait for him to say something. Minutes later when I turn to step out of the fountain, I hear a strangled voice. “We should have been together from the start.”

“You never gave me a chance, Nikki.” I say, hurt. “And to this day, I don’t understand why. What did Charlotte, Viv, and Amanda have that I didn’t? What is so wrong with me that I wasn’t worthy of your love?”

He closes the space between us, chest just inches from mine as his hands cup my cheeks. “There has never been a damn thing wrong with you. I never thought I was worthy of you, so I settled for less. We come from two different worlds P, and I’ve always known you deserve everything good in this life, but I don’t know if I am capable of being the man that gives it to you.”

I reach out to hold his cheeks instinctively. He relaxes under my touch, but he can’t look at me. “It doesn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he answers defeatedly.

“Well, you’ve been doing a damn good job over the last few months with the exception of ignoring me for the last few weeks,” I chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. I bite my lip nervously. “I know the fake dating was fake to you. But...it was real for me.”

“It was fake at first,” Nikki says truthfully, hands coming up to his face to cover mine. “And then when I started falling, shit I fell hard. And the only way I knew how to deal with it, was run, hide, and try to ignore what I felt. But I can’t do that anymore. I am in love with you, Pia Jane. I am so in love with every piece of you. And maybe if you’re up for it,” he nudges my nose with his, “We can try again. For real this time.”

We’re still in the fountain, standing in chilly knee deep water in the cold December air, but I can’t feel a thing except the warmth that comes from my heart that is so full of love.

#nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx fic #nikki sixx x oc #Motley Crue #motley crue fanfic #motley crue fanfiction #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx imagine

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wannabemobwife · 4 years ago

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Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: You Didn’t Get to Heaven But, You Made it Close

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Language, Fighting, possible typos, hospital scenes

-Words: 4.6K

Chapter 4: You Didn’t Get to Heaven But, You Made it Close

Words: 4.6K

The night was a typical one at the Holland household. Earlier that night, Rosie helped you cook dinner, spaghetti and meatballs, a Holland family dinner favorite. Dinner was quiet, Tom had been ignoring Parker for multiple reasons, mainly the ultimatum but also he was still angered by the recklessness of his son the other night.

Only the sound of slight flickering of the chandelier candles, could be heard. It was a deafening silence that consumed them. No one wanting to speak up and risk and argument forming. Dinner ended quicker than it began and everyone excused themselves.

Tom and you sat by the fire in the living room while their kids closed themselves off for the night. Not giving another thought to their kids. Little did they know, Parker had a date that night. And after dinner ceased, planned his escape.

“Tommy, I think it’s about time we turn in,” you said.

“Y/N, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” Tom whispered with a somber voice.

“About what baby?”

“Parker. The threat. Everything,” Tom was beyond stressed at the moment.

“Shh, we’ll figure it out. We always do,” you said rubbing the back of Tom’s head and Tom nodded in response

“Now come on, why don’t I put your mind at ease,” you whispered seductively.

“Are you talking about some good lovin’?” Tom inquired moving his eyebrows up and down.

“You’re such a dork. I was, we’ll see now.”

“Aww don’t be like that, you’re such a tease.” “Oh you love it,” you said. “Yes, I do,” Tom shouted following you up the stairs.

“I think I’m going to take a shower, care to join me?” You exclaimed cheekily.

“Love, you don’t have ask me twice” Tom said. How could you be anymore perfect? The day ended even more perfectly.

After they showered, you both changed into wannabe pajamas, for you, a tank top and some shorts and Tom wore a pair of boxers. They were all set to watch a little TV and hop under the covers when tiredness overcame them, falling asleep in each others arms. Absolutely content with everything in your life, everyone in the family was safe, nothing had come of the note yet.

“I love you, darling,” Tom whispered pressing his lips to your hairline.

You were already fast asleep. How did he get, you, this amazing woman to fall in love with him? The night soon fell into pitch darkness, however Tom’s phone ringing, startling him out of his deep sleep.

“Hello?” Tom answered it with a groggy voice.

“Is this Mr. Holland, father of Parker Holland?” A woman on the other line spoke.

“Yes, this is. Who the fuck is this?” Tom said rather rudely just being woken up.

“Sir, I’m calling from Kingston Memorial Hospital. Your son has been involved in an accident.”

“Fuck, I’m on my way.” Tom muttered as he hung up

“Angel wake up, something is wrong with Parker,” Tom whispered, shaking you awake.

“Tommy, what? What’s wrong?” You muttered as you stirred awake.

“Just get dressed.” Tom said.

Driving like a madman and disregarding all traffic signals, they all eventually arrived at the hospital. Not giving anything else a second thought.

They all piled into the Rolls Royce. Tom drove, for the first time in a long time, always having someone drive him. You sat in the passenger seat, clutching Tom’s hand and hoping to god your baby boy was okay.

You hadn’t even bothered to wear proper clothes, you wore mix-matched shoes, shorts, a tank top and an overcoat to stay warm. Rosie was like her mother, only wearing a hoodie and pajama bottoms. Tom on the other hand was more put together, wearing a regular t-shirt and pants along with the same pair of shoes, unlike, you, his wife.

Barging through the sliding doors, Tom made his presence known.

“Parker Holland, where is he?” Tom screamed as he marched up to the receptionist.

“I’m sorry sir, hold on a moment,” the nurse clad in light blue scrubs said.

“NO! Fuck this. Parker Holland, tell me where the fuck he is before I blow your brains out.” Tom shouted and flashed his pistol.

“Alright Sir, just please put the gun away,” the nurse pleaded.

“He is in room 202,” she concluded.

“Thank you, come on Tommy,” you replied, pulling your husband away.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the moment you saw your baby boy lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

“I’m sorry, are you family?” asked the doctor as everyone funneled in the room.

“Yes, we are his parents,” Tom concluded

“I’m his sister,” Rosie spoke up, trying not to be forgotten.

“Good. Parker has a mild concussion, a few broken ribs, and he came in with a ruptured spleen which was taken care of during surgery. The anesthesia should be wearing off any moment now,” the doctor explained.

“Parker? Baby? It’s mommy. Please wake up,” you whispered to your son while petting his head, trying not cry at his busted lip and swollen eye.

“Mr. Holland? Sorry to disturb you but, the police would like to talk with you” a nurse informed Tom. Tom nodded with a blank expression, not letting his eyes stray away from his son.

“Follow me, sir,” the nurse concluded as she led him out of the room.

“Mom, is Parker going to be okay?” Rosie inquired. “I hope so” you responded with a hoarse voice from crying. Rosie wrapped her arms around you, comforting you,

You were so used to you being the one waking up in a hospital bed. At first, dating Tom and eventually marrying him, put a huge target on your back. Never experiencing the crippling fear of losing the one you love most.

Meanwhile, Tom was conversing with the cops who were on the scene. “Sir, your son was a victim to an assault that happened earlier at The Luxe, a nightclub downtown,” explained one of the cops. They stood tall, attempting to act macho but failing. The notorious mobster scared them. The stories, alone, spread on the street was enough to make a grown man soil his pants.

One of them was a man around age 45, looked like he had a pension and drove a hybrid car. Old but tried too hard to be young again. The other was a woman, rather young, possibly new to force. Both of them oblivious to man they were questioning. Unaware of Tom’s business and status. “What? I don’t understand.” Tom was puzzled, he knew his son snuck out, but to a nightclub, why? “It seemed like the moment it was made known that he was a Holland, they let him in,” interjected one of the officers. “Alright, anything else? If you don’t mind I would like to get back to my family.” Tom concluded, bothered by their pestering. “Your son wasn’t alone?” “What?” “There was another body found at the scene. A female about 16 years old, her ID labeled her as Charlotte Owens. She was shot in the abdomen and found dead at the scene,” the officer informed Tom. “Did your son know this woman?” asked the first officer, holding up her driver’s license. “Nope. Never heard of her. I’m sorry to hear about her, wrong place wrong time I guess.” Tom couldn’t tell them the truth, he only needed to protect his family right now and if that meant blatantly lying to the authorities it was worth it. “Your son really had no connection to Ms. Owens?” asked the second policeman.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Mr. Holland, when we found your son he was covered in blood, not his own.” “What… are you accusing my son of murder? I’ll have you know I can have both your jobs in an instant,” Tom yelled, astounded at such an accusation.

“Sir, are you threatening us?” said the cops growing defensive. “No. Just making you aware of the situation. Tell Captain Reid I, Tom Holland, says ‘I’ll call him tomorrow, if you guys can’t do your jobs and leave me and my family alone”” Tom knew what he was doing. You don’t get to be the most powerful man in London by not having the police Captain in your pocket.

“We’re sorry sir, it won’t happen again,” the cops said, realizing they might have just made a very powerful enemy.

“I should hope so, if you have anymore questions here’s my business card and I suggest you don’t bother me again,” Tom concluded.

“Yes, sir. Have good rest of your night,” they said but Tom ignored them as he made a call.

“Tom? Do you know what time it is?” Harrison answered after a few rings, probably consumed by deep sleep.

“Haz I’m at the hospital.” Tom spoke with a somber voice.

“What? What happened?” Haz said all panicky. “Parker snuck out and got beaten up. A hit had to be on him. He was with his girlfriend. She didn’t make it.” “Jesus Christ. I’m on my way. Is it Kingston Memorial?” Harrison inquired. “Yes, also bring Henry I have a feeling Parker is going to need some moral support.” “Alright, be there soon mate.”

Parker was coming out of his deep sleep. His body begged for it, desperately needing to heal. He took quite a beating.

“Woah, woah. Where am I?” Parker asked, confused by his surroundings.

“Honey you’re at the hospital, don’t move you’ll hurt yourself.” You exclaimed. Parker soon realized everything that had transpired that night.

“They killed her,” Parker whispered as his eyes went cold. Every moment flashing before his eyes. One minute she was dancing, full of life and the next lying his arms dead.

“What? Who, honey?” You asked just relieved that your son was awake. “Charlotte.” Tom said walking in as you burst into tears at the vocalization of Charlotte’s name.

“What? Parker you need to tell me what happened. I thought you were in your room,” you pestered, only concerned about her son’s well being.

“I snuck out and my girlfriend got killed. What more is there to tell?” Parker said raising his voice and showing off his beloved Tom’s temper.

“I’m sorry. Charlotte just wanted me to be there to celebrate her birthday. I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me she would still be alive,” Parker explained, tears slipping from his eyes.

“Shh baby, you can explain later. Just get some rest,” you concluded and Parker nodded in response.

“Mom, I’m gonna get some air,” Rosie said, wanting to be sick at the thought of Charlotte’s demise. She walked aimlessly around the hospital, making her way outside by the ambulance entrance.

Her breathing rapidly increased, she was hyperventilating. “Oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered to herself.

Collapsing against the wall, she sunk to the ground and brought her knees to her chest. Parker being the older sibling, knew more of the family business and tried to shield Rosie as much as possible. Not wanting to see her dad littered with blood after a hard day’s work.

“Rosie?” Henry asked with concern, seeing her sitting on the ground with tears streaming down her face.

“Hey, hey, hey. I got you. You’re okay. I got you.” Henry whispered bringing her into his embrace.

“Henry. I’m so glad you’re here.” She said, not letting go.

“Roo, you gotta tell me what happened? My dad wouldn’t say anything.”

“Parker got hurt when he snuck into a nightclub with Charlotte and she—“ Rosie bawled, her voice cracking and not finishing the sentence.

“It’s gonna be okay. Parker is okay right?” Henry asked and Rosie nodded in response. “Charlotte though, she…” Rosie having trouble finding the words. She knew the words but, the moment she said them they became 10 times more real. “Come on, Rosie, spit it out.” Henry said, trying not to alarm her. “She’s dead. She’s dead and I was awful to her.” Rosie stammered. “Oh my god. How?” Henry gasped, trying to wrap his head around the news. “She was shot. I know it’s not my fault but I can’t shake the feeling that I had something to do with it.” “Rosie you can’t think like that. It was an accident,” Henry whispered, comforting the trembling girl beside him. “Hey come here, I got you Roo. You’re safe with me.” Henry whispered pressing a kiss to Rosie’s forehead. She was actually starting to grow fond of the nickname, only when it was Henry who said it.

“I know this is a bad time, but I have to tell you something,” Henry whispered, trying to find the guts to tell this amazingly perfect girl the truth. “Yeah,” Rosie responded, eager for his response. “Rosie, I…” Henry tried to say but was soon interrupted with Rosie’s lips on hers. The kiss was soft yet full of passionate. Their lips melded together like two puzzle pieces. Both their eyes fluttered shut as euphoria consumed them, finally breaking away to breathe.

“I like you a lot, I have for awhile,” Rosie said, shying away from his face.

“Rosie, I really like you too,” he whispered, bringing his hand to caress her cheek.

“Really?” Rosie asked dumbfounded. “Yeah, what’s not to love,” he said and brought her into another chaste kiss. This time lingering longer as his lips brushed against hers. This was everything they both desired.

In the Parker’s hospital room, Tom and Harrison were conversing. Stuff was happening right under Tom’s nose at the estate and he was fed up with it.

“Who do you think it could be?” Haz asked, trying to get to the bottom of this before it blows up. “God knows who, I have countless enemies. Barnes, Roberts, most likely Carson,” Tom said, trying not to alarm, you, his sleeping wife or son. “Alright, I’ll inform the others to be on high alert,” Haz concluded. “We will have a meeting first thing tomorrow morning, I want everyone there.” “Yes, sir.”

“Enough Haz, you don’t need to be formal” Tom chuckled. “I know it just makes you laugh sometimes and you need that right now,” Harrison said, being the comic relief in times of crisis.

“Dad?” Parker whispered, coming out of his deep sleep.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Tom exclaimed. “It’s fine. Can I ask you something” Parker inquired.

“Mmmhm,” Tom acknowledged. “How’d you deal with all those times almost losing mum?” Parker inquired.

“I won’t lie to you, I was a wreck” Tom explained. Seeing his son like this, brought Tom back to the time you were kidnapped and tortured. You two had only been going out for a year at the time and it was a huge turning point in your relationship.

At the time, Tom was in the middle of a turf war with James Graham, another mobster who predated Tom. You and Tom had just moved into together. Everything was smooth sailing up until that point. It was the night of your anniversary, going to the restaurant you went on your first date. You were dressed in a red, Tom’s favorite color not much of a surprise there, satin dress which hugged your figure perfectly. You had made your way to “Casa Nostra,” the little Italian restaurant that was very dear to your heart.

You sat down at your usual table with your usual drink, a gin and tonic, and fell in love with the ambience. Once in a while glancing at your watch, Tom was late. It was puzzling because Tom was everything and of those things was punctual. Tom was currently, stuck at the “office,” swamped with paper work.

“Vincent can you call Y/N? Tell her I’m sorry for being late and I’ll be there in 30 mins,” Tom asked one of his men. “Yes of course boss,” Vincent concluded as the phone suddenly rang.

“Oh, what’d you know, its her right here,” “Thanks Vincent, I got it from here,” Tom said grabbing the phone and dismissing him out of his office.

“I’m so sorry love. I’ll be there in 30 mins tops. Order what every you want to start with, may a suggest a bottle of Dom Pérignon. I promise I’ll be there. I love you,” Tom exclaimed hoping you would understand.

Who was he kidding of course you would understand. You were always so kind and considerate of everyone else’s feelings, he knew you wouldn’t be mad.

“Oh, no worries. I’m fine, just enjoying a few drinks. See you when you get here. I love you too. Remember don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you replied.

Drinking gin and tonic one after the another to pass the time, you had gotten up to make a phone call. 10 mins had past since you entered the establishment and your driver had dropped you off and stayed in the parked car. You made your way to the bathroom. Coming out of the stall having finished and washed your hands. In the reflection of the mirror, stood a tall figure one who looked like he could break your neck with one snap.

A gasp exited your lips as the assailant lunged toward you. Launching towards the bathroom walls, banging you head against the wall and the tile once your body hit the floor. All you heard were muffled screams you assumed belonged to the other patrons of the restaurants. Followed by several gunshots before you fell into complete and utter darkness.

You woke up to mind-numbing pain and throbbing pain to your head, your wrists fasten to a metal chair and wet, thick liquid dripping down the side of your face.

“Glad to see you are awake. Could I get you anything, water maybe?” Graham inquired tauntingly. “Fuck you, Graham. What the fuck am I doing here?” You yelled as you tried to escape your restraints.

James Graham had been a rival of the Hollands for decades. Always craving more power than there was to go around. The Holland’s enjoyed their freedom at the top of the food chain.

They were and are the most dangerous predator out there. When one of the less powerful predators gets a taste for blood, they won’t stop til they have decimated the rest of the population.

“Wow, who knew such a pretty girl like you would have such a mouth on her,” he quipped.

“Tom’s gonna come for me and when he does he will show no mercy,” you said, your voice tainted with hope.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he chuckled. “Why me? Why didn’t you just go after him yourself?” “I suggest you shut your fucking trap before I put a bullet through your skull,” He barked, slapping you straight across the face. Leaving a small imprint of his hand. Right before, he yanked your hair back, entangling all your strands in his fingers. All the pain caused tears to fall.

“I guess that seemed to shut you up. Better hope, your man hurries or he is going have to carry your decaying body out of this hell hole,” Graham taunted. “Why are you doing this?” you asked. “Your corpse would make Tom shatter. To get to him, I have kill you. You are his weakness. It will be the end of him, the end of Tom Holland,” he spoke with a tight grip on your jaw, leaving tiny bruises.

“Well, better get started cause one way or another you’ll be dead by sunrise.” He said, delivering a swift punch to your stomach. One after the other.

“I’ve had my fun. Boys, do you want to get a few licks in?” “It would be my pleasure, boss,” his men snickered as they made their way over to you. Alternating who punched and when. “Have your fun, but no guns. Tom needs to see the pain she felt. I’ll be upstairs.” Graham explained while leaving you alone with his men.

Meanwhile, Tom was finally free of work and on his way to enjoy a lovely night with you. A year spent together was really testament. He already felt so guilty for ditching you for 30 mins, he had some ideas of how he would make it up to you.

He arrived to a massacre at the restaurant. Not a single soul was found alive anywhere, they had all been shot. Searching for you, along with the other casualties, you were nowhere to be found.

Only explanation, you were taken by Graham. The lack of gravitas when it came to killing led to one person, James Graham. You were the only thing on his mind right now and Graham was behind it all. He quickly pulled his phone out and dialed the last person he wanted to see tonight.

“Oh Tom, what do I owe this pleasure?” Graham said cheekily. “Where the fuck is she, Graham?” Tom barked, not fucking around. “Sorry Tommy, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Who?”

“Graham, I swear to fucking god if you hurt a hair on her head there will be hell to pay,” Tom gritted his teeth.

“It’s a little late for that.” Graham stated. “TOM!” You screamed in the background. “Let me talk to her,” Tom pleaded. “Alright, I’m not a monster. Hope she has some good last words for you now.” “It’s for you,” Graham said, holding the phone to your ear. “Y/N? Are you okay? Where are you?” Tom said with concern. He blamed himself for you being in this position. Sure, you had come from a mob family but, nothing like this happened. It was because of him. He was in love you, which made you his biggest weakness.

“I’m fine, don’t listen to him, I’m sorry we didn’t get our second date,” you said, trying to put Tom’s mind at ease. “You mean anniversary date. Oh… Baby, I’m going to find you. Trust me” “I do, I love—“ the conversation soon ended when Graham pulled the phone away and pummeled into your cheekbone, causing red to seep out. Only winces from pain and quiet sobs were heard on the other line.

“Aww, did you say your fucking marriage vows or shit? Too bad you’ll never see her in a wedding dress,” Graham snickered. “Graham, I’m coming for you and for your sake, I suggest you fucking run like the pussy you are,” Tom threatened as he hung up. He knew where you were thank to you subtle hint and he desperately needed backup. How could he go in there guns blazing when it’s just him.

“Haz, Y/N has been taken. Gather all the men I know where she is,” Tom said into the phone. “What? Where is she?” Haz inquired “She’s at the marina, our second date.”

Tom drove to where your second date was, the marina. He needed to know you were okay, the phone call didn’t give him much to go on. Haz and the other men soon arrived all in black SUVs.

“She’s in there. On my count. 1, 2, 3!” Haz said, instructing the soldiers. Tom let Haz take the lead on this one so he could focus on you.

Busting through the doors, guns went off a split second later. Flooring most of Graham’s men. Tom and Haz found you looking half dead strapped to a chair in the middle of the room.

“Love we have to get you out of here” Tom said, trying to run up to you until he was stopped by sound of a gun cocking against your head. Tears slipped as your came face to head with the barrel of a gun.

“Come any closer and she’s dead. Now drop the gun,” Graham shouted.

“Do you think I’m playing around. DROP IT!!!” Tom slowly put his gun on the ground, trying to stall enough for Harrison to be behind him.

“Duck!” Tom yelled, hitting the deck as Haz fired 3 shots. Striking Graham right between the eyes, and the chest twice. A thud soon followed and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Tom rushed over to you, cutting off your restraints.

“Y/N. Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” Tom cried.

“It’s ok, you got me now, that’s all that matters,” you said growing more weak in his arms “We gotta get you to a hospital come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around you shoulder as he walked.

This was the first time Tom had brought you to the hospital. Who knew it would be the first of many instances. He hated hospitals, all the sickness that lingered in the air.

You had been in surgery for an hour, the doctors were in the process of fixing your internal bleeding. All those punches, ruptured one of your kidneys. Now you were resting in your hospital bed with Tom attached to your side, refusing to let go of your hand.

Tom had been a wreck, sure it was only two hours but the most dreadful two hours of his life. He knew you would be okay, but all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms.

“Hi Tommy,” you whispered, beginning to wake. “God you scared the fucking hell out of me, please don’t ever scare me like that again. I need to know you are okay,” Tom exclaimed. “I’m okay, I promise.” “Yes and you will be from now on…. Tomorrow Jared, my driver, will help you gather your stuff from the house. I’ll have someone else take care of the furniture. Do you have a place to stay?” Tom explained.

“What? Why are you doing this?” you said, confusingly.

“I love you Y/N, this is the only way I can guarantee your safety.” “Tom, don’t push me away.”

“None of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for me. You wouldn’t be lying here half fucking dead. You should just forget about me,” Tom pleaded. “Hey, look at me. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” you said, standing your ground. “Y/N, I’m damaged goods. This your chance, go live the your life without getting blood on your hands.”

“Tom, I think you forget that I already have blood on my hands. There is nothing you can say or do that would ever make me leave you.”

Tom knew in the moment, you were his and one day he might regret your words. Thank god you stuck around or he wouldn’t have the family he has today. You and Tom even still make it a priority to spend your anniversary at Casa Nostra.

Parker needed reassurance, just like Tom did when he asked you to leave him, after your kidnapping. Tom never wanted himself to be the reason for your demise. He could never forgive himself.

“Dad, I just don’t know how to move on from this. It hurts so bad,” Parker pleaded.

“She’s dead because of me. All I want to do is hold her. She didn’t deserve any of this,” Parker cried. “I know, it wasn’t your fault though,” Tom reassured.

“How is it not? The men specifically asked for me, I’m the reason she is dead!” Parker exclaimed.

“How do I make the pain go away?” he said, desperate for a quick remedy. “It will eventually, you just need time,” Tom explained to his devastated son. “No, what I need is revenge,” Parker said forcing a shocked expression upon Tom’s face.

“I’ll do it, dad” Parker concluded with a new found confidence.

“Do what, P?” Tom inquired.

“I’ll be the next you, be the next Holland that strikes fear.”

“I’m in, teach me to be the best fucking mobster this world has every seen.” These were the words Tom was wishing his son would’ve said a week ago, but there’s no time like the present. “It would be my pleasure. I always knew you had it in you,” Tom said rather excitedly.

“This is the only way I can avenge Charlotte. They won’t know what hit them.” Something in Parker changed. A switch had flipped in his brain. The innocent boy was now a shell of person, demanding revenge. He was out for blood.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Series Masterlist

Author note: Feel free to be asked to be added to the taglist if you want :)

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom x reader

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years ago

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 3

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Chapter 3

1996 (Three years later)

Liam got a letter in the mail that morning, another one, from New York this time. Liam didn’t know anyone in New York who would send this kind of letter. In any case, they were all from the same person, no matter the constantly changing postmark, and they all said the same hateful, frightening things.

Liam had just tossed this one into the drawer with the others when Kurt appeared out of nowhere, as only he could. Liam had done a bit of research on vampires in the three years he’d known Kurt (as much study as he could on something that was supposed to be fictional), and teleportation was not a common vampire ability. But then Kurt was not a common vampire.

“Morning,” Kurt said, dropping into a kitchen chair. He looked a bit bed-rumpled, but Liam honestly wasn’t sure whether it was because Kurt had been sleeping or because Kurt thought that humans should look bed-rumpled in the morning. “Been for your run yet?” Kurt asked.

“I was just getting ready to go.”

“Want company?”

“You’re not dressed for it,” Liam pointed out, waving a hand at Kurt’s blue jeans, and that caused Kurt to vanish again. Liam was lacing his shoes when Kurt reappeared, this time wearing athletic shorts and, crucially, no shirt. Liam’s fingers tripped over themselves and got tangled in his shoelaces like clumsy people with jump ropes.

Liam had seen Kurt without his shirt on occasionally over the last three years, most memorably when Kurt had shown Liam the scars he still carried from the earliest thing he remembered— a Bronze Age battle. There was a scar above his heart and two on his left shoulder, the marks of flint arrowheads, presumably the wounds that caused his death.

But that was not what caught Liam’s attention when Kurt was shirtless. Kurt had the build of a fighter: a slender waist, sturdy legs, broad shoulders and strong arms. His chest was smoothly muscled around the scars. Meanwhile Liam had the body of a thirty-year-old history professor who went for a run most mornings, but also had a fondness for rocky road ice cream.

Liam wasn’t sure if Kurt knew about the threatening letters. He was also not sure if Kurt knew how fervently Liam desired him. If he was aware of either, or, most importantly, felt any desire in return, he had never said. And while Liam was sorting out the shoelace mess, Kurt pulled on a shirt, so the distraction passed.

The morning was cool, with fog still gathering around the trees. While they ran, Kurt told Liam about a morning in 1914 outside of Ypres, when snow had fallen silently, covering fallen leaves and fallen soldiers alike.

Liam had learned by now that Kurt did not feel the cold. It must have been obvious during a winter campaign, when Kurt’s fingers did not stiffen with frostbite, or his toes blister with trench foot. Sometimes, Kurt had told him, his fellow soldiers thought of him as an indestructible good luck charm. Sometimes they looked on the only member of their group to emerge from a battle unscathed and called him a demon.

A countless number of Kurt’s stories ended with him holding a fellow soldier as he succumbed to injury and passed out of this world.

When they turned back onto Liam’s street, there was a blue car in Liam’s driveway that belonged to one of Liam’s students, Martina. She was standing beside the car, waving at them. Of course, she wasn’t there to see Liam.

When Liam got out of the shower fifteen minutes later, he was surprised to see Kurt in the kitchen alone, drinking the coffee that Liam kept on hand for him. Coffee and water were the only things Liam had ever seen Kurt eat or drink. “Martina didn’t stay?” Liam asked.

“No. She was just returning my jacket.” Kurt looked melancholy for a moment, a brief flash across his features before it faded back into his usual somewhat detached expression. “She met someone else. He’s moving in.”

Liam looked at him in shock. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Kurt shook his head. “I’m happy for her. She’s about to graduate anyway, so we were going to break it off.”

Martina was not the first of Liam’s students that Kurt had dated. Kurt was very good about it, really. The students he chose were from the graduate program, so all in their mid-twenties or older, and they’d all known what Kurt was. They’d chosen to be a part of his life for a while, providing him with companionship, and, though they didn’t usually state it so plainly, with blood.

“I don’t get attached,” Kurt said. “And I pick those who won’t get attached to me. I don’t have the patience for a line of angry exes. Better to be with those who will part as friends.”

“Have you ever been wrong?” Liam asked. He didn’t look at Kurt, carefully focusing on the toaster and butter dish.

“Accidentally broken someone’s heart, you mean?” Kurt asked. “Or lost my own?”

“Either.”

“Not in a long time.”

“Ah.” Liam buttered his toast with perhaps more force than was called for.

“I investigated him, though. Martina’s new boyfriend. His name is Devon.”

“Investigated,” Liam repeated. He sat down at the table opposite Kurt, accepting the cup of coffee Kurt passed to him.

“He seems like a very nice man. And he loves her.”

“So you read his mind.”

“I can’t read minds.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

Kurt looked amused. “I know. But not because I read your mind. In any case, Martina is my friend. She’s under my protection. And so are you.”

This last part was said gently, but Liam caught its meaning as overtly as he was meant to. He let out a groan and pushed away what was left of his toast. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough. The letters are mailed from around the country, but I am almost certain the sender is local. He probably travels a lot, and also has other people mail the letters without knowing what’s in them.”

“That’s what the police think. They also think they’re not serious.”

Kurt seemed immensely unimpressed by this opinion. “So did you do something that some bastard holds a grudge for? Murder his wife? Steal his parking space? Or do you think it’s because you’re gay?”

Liam’s sexuality was not something that had come up in conversation before, so Liam was a bit startled to hear it accurately described. “I have no idea,” he said. “I certainly don’t recall murdering anyone.”

“I’ve looked over the letters. No fingerprints, and I can’t find anything distinctive about the printer he uses.” When Kurt got emotional, he wore it strangely, as if he could be both agitated and unaffected at the same time. Right now his green eyes were bright and his mouth tight. His fingers curled sharply around his coffee cup, blanching white where they gripped too hard. But the rest of his body was still relaxed in the chair, stretched into the sort of lazy pretzel shape that sore legs often took after a run. Liam sometimes wondered what Kurt would be like if he stopped trying so hard to seem human.

“They’re not serious,” Liam told him.

“I’m not convinced of that. You really don’t have suspects?”

Liam shrugged. “Nobody in particular.”

“Ex-lovers?”

Liam focused on his coffee. “I haven’t had one of those for some time.”

“Family?”

“It’s just my sister and me, and we get along fine as long as she can pretend I’m not gay.”

Kurt’s fingers clenched around the coffee cup again. “This is a very intolerant period of history.”

Liam laughed, not unkindly. “It is all history to you, isn’t it? This is just another era to walk through. How odd to—”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Colleagues?”

“I’ve never had any problems. Anyway, the letters are all anti-university. Anti-technology. Unabomber-type stuff.”

“I’m not sure I trust the subject matter. Why send anti-technology missives to a history professor? It still feels personal to me. The one you got today talks about kidnapping you, Liam. That’s a very intimate threat.”

Liam groaned. “How the hell—”

“I read it while you were in the shower.” Kurt did look a little regretful, at least. “Look, I know you don’t like me being all— the way I am—”

“If I minded the vampire stuff, I’d never have agreed to work with you. What I object to is your being sneaky and intrusive on an entirely human level.”

Kurt seemed surprised, which was not a common look on him. He stared at Liam for a moment before saying, “Well, I object to being kept in the dark about your safety.”

“Kurt—”

They were interrupted by the ding noise that Liam’s computer made when he received an email. Normally Liam might ignore it, but at the moment, he welcomed the distraction.

The email was from a colleague in Germany, and as Liam read it, he forgot all about their argument. “Kurt,” he said, in an entirely different tone than the one he’d just used. Kurt was behind him in an instant, moving with that silent speed he had.

Liam traced his finger across the screen, aware that he wasn’t supposed to do that, but he hadn’t quite yet learned not to treat emails like they were pieces of paper. “Look at this. Someone found an arm bone with a flint arrowhead in the bank of the Tollense River in Germany. It’s not— it’s not a giant battle, not yet, just with one body, but it’s the right place, the right time. My colleague thinks this could be what we were looking for, and I think he’s right. Your earliest memory. Your origin. It could be Tollense.”

Kurt had knelt down so that he could read the screen more easily. When he turned his head it brought his mouth so very close to Liam’s. “You did it,” he said softly. “You found it.”

“Well, I didn’t find anything. Someone else—”

“But you put your neck on the line, theorizing about a battle in a time and place no one expected.”

“It’s not like I don’t have eye-witness evidence.”

“But no one knows that. You’ve endured a lot of controversy, trying to help me.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that. I care about—” Liam cut himself off before he could say it.

Kurt seemed to hear it anyway, because he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Liam’s.

It was a light kiss only for a few seconds, until Liam made an intensely hungry noise and Kurt responded to it, bringing his hands up around Liam’s face to hold him steady. Kurt deepened the kiss, sweeping into Liam’s open mouth with his tongue.

Liam had thought about a kiss like this, thorough and overwhelming, fantasized about it, wondered if it might happen someday because Kurt would read his mind and know how much Liam wanted it. But Liam was suddenly sure in that moment that Kurt could not read minds, or at least, that he’d left Liam’s to its secrets. If he had read it, he would have known not to kiss Liam. Because unlike the students Kurt sought out, Liam was already attached, far too much, to this utterly alien man who kissed with a technique undoubtedly honed over millennia, ranging from soft to strong all in a single lick of his tongue, instinctively knowing which parts of Liam’s mouth were most sensitive, and all with a kindness Liam had never before felt.

It was the kindness that made Liam put his hands up and push Kurt gently away. Liam didn’t want kindness at that moment, didn’t want Kurt offering this kiss out of gratitude or friendship, or because Kurt knew Liam was attracted to men and would probably enjoy it. Even because he was worried about Liam’s safety. Kurt was three thousand years old, and he’d no doubt live for many thousands of years after this. Liam’s lifespan was a drop of water in the river of Kurt’s life. Kurt had said it just this morning— he would never allow himself to get attached.

After the kiss broke, Kurt looked at Liam searchingly for a moment, and then moved away.

“We should— we should visit Germany,” Liam managed to say. Kurt just nodded.

************

The battle of Tollense is a real thing! Here is the wikipedia and another article.

************

READ FROM THE BEGINNING

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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aliceaddellheidde · 4 years ago

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Birthday boy

A/N: I tried. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY BARNES!!! ❤️💜💙💚💕

WORDS: 1838

WARNINGS: swearing, smut (graphic, 18+)

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x reader {A/B/O AU}

DISCLAIMERS: English isn´t my first language so sorry for mistakes.

I stole pic from ig of man who looks just like Bucky!!! 😱🤣

Divider by @firefly-graphics

You woke when Sun rays tickled your face. Space next to you was empty and cold which meant that Bucky, your Alpha and husband, went to check borders with his friends. Today was his birthday and you had plans for you both. Nice yummy breakfast, you as a dessert, small party with your big family and then hopefully special evening for you present. You checked if it´s still under pile of your t-shirts and then went down to make breakfast.

Bucky walked in the kitchen twenty minutes later, sweaty. „Good morning beautiful.” he kissed top of your head. „Morning handsome.” He wanted to hug you, but you pushed him away, laughing. „Have a shower first.” „When I´ll be done with you, we both will need another one! Do I really have to go?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. „I dare you to sit to the table dirty and sweaty! Now, shoo.” „Damn you, you feisty Omega.” He groaned but left.

You have been together for six years, four of it as married couple. When you were younger, you were sure you don’t wanna tie down to someone in very young age. But Fate had other plans and one day you literally fell down the stairs right into arms of the most beautiful Alpha in the college. Since that day you couldn’t get his smell from your head. Few weeks later you went on your first date and years later you were married. He worked as auto mechanic and because you didn't have kids yet, you still had your work too.

You heard when he stopped the shower and put bacon and eggs on pan. „All clean and fresh wifey!” Bucky walked to you and kissed you. You smelled cypress and sandalwood from his warm body and deepened kiss a little bit. But sizzling sound ruined everything. „I think our food is ready my little Omega.” he smirked at your pouty face. „Quicker we will be done with this, quicker we can have fun.”

He seated you on kitchen counter, your legs open. Your hands were everywhere, his on your hips as you were stealing air from each other in heated kisses. „Bedroom.” he breathed and picked you up. You were on third step when Steve and Sam walked into your house. „Sorry Y/N, but we need Bucky.” Your husband growled and you apologetically smiled at him. „Again? I was with you in the morning guys.” „We know Buck, but as Alphas we have duties. Even on your birthday.” said Steve. „We will wait outside.” He nudged Sam. „Yeah and girls are waiting for you in the Dome Y/N.” They both left and he finally put you down. „Sometimes I hate being an Alpha. Too much work.” He buried his face into crook of your neck where your connection mark was and then kissed his way to your lips. „I´ll see you later, my sweet Omega.” You kissed his cheek and went to change your pyjama for something more appropriate.

You loved your small family. As you walked to Dome you saw younglings playing with youngest Alpha of your pack, Peter. You all lived in cabin camp encircled by forest and you couldn’t imagine better life.

„Y/N! You are finally here.” „Hi Wan. I heard you need me?” „Yes. You know one Alpha eats for three and we need more food because of guests. Pepper, Sharon and Laura are in the kitchen.” „Yes boss!” Laughing, you walked in the kitchen and were surprised that there was still space to walk. „Are you ok?” you asked your friends, who looked like they were hit by heat wave. „It´s not funny Y/N. It so hot here and windows are not very helpful.” „Sorry Pepper. I´m here to help.” You end up baking cakes and bread and gossiping about your Alphas.

Bucky found you hours later, dressed nicely in jeans and flannel shirt. „Why is your hair wet?” you asked him and yanked croissant from his hand. „Hey! I´m hungry.” „You will have plenty of time later. Now lets go home. I can´t show up on your birthday party covered up in flour.” He laughed with you, easily picking you up and carrying you to your cabin.

You were in shower and he sat on the toilet. „Boys took me to cliff. You know we love jumping in water. Thus wet hair.” „You are like small puppies in adult bodies, I swear.” „Yet you married me.” His eyes were scanning your naked body with dilated pupils and his tongue wetted his lips. „I'm the happiest Alpha on this planet.” His mouth crushed into yours and somehow you ended up lying on your bed underneath him. „I wanted you all morning doll.” He nipped at your neck, clavicles and you gasped when his tongue touched your hardened nipples. You could feel him getting hard as he was rubbing against your wet core. His kisses travelled down your ribs, belly and hips. And finally when he was ready to taste his finest dessert, noise from outside stopped him. You both sighted, defeated. „Damn it! Why they have to cock-blocking me on my birthday?!” You stood up with a huff and put on Bucky´s favourite dress with over-the-knee socks and you chuckled when you heard his breath hitched. „You like it?” You turned to him. „Fuck Omega. You are killing me! Once we are done at the party I´m putting a baby in you.” You moaned at the idea of it. „That´s what you want?” You nodded vigorously. „Words, my sweet Omega.” His fingers traced your face and shoulders. „Yes Alpha. I want your pups.” He smiled wildly. „Great. I love you doll.” He kissed you gently. „Time to go.” He took your hand and together you went to welcome your friends from other packs.

Bucky was happy. He was having great time eating, drinking, singing, playing games and telling stories with other members yet he was checking you from time to time. Once you were with other Omegas, then eating and talking to young Betas. But his heart fluttered when he saw you playing with kids. You were laughing and tickling them and you glowed under warm light in the Dome. He felt his Alpha stirring deep inside of him and your smell overpowered the others. It was feral feel he couldn’t fight any more. He had to have you.

You instinctively felt his eyes on you and when you looked his way he was already standing and walking your way. He was few metres away from you but you smelled his cypress and sandalwood immediately. It made you all warm and your heart sped up. „Sorry kids. I need some fresh air.” They all protested but you were already walking away.

„Fuck you and fuck all my friends.” he growled once he had you pinned against barn wall in the dark. He wasn't angry, just frustrated. And his voice was making you wetter with every word he said. „I will make you feel better.” Your small hand was fumbling with his belt but he stopped you. „No. There is no time. I have to be in you. Now.” You quickly took off your panties and seconds late you were lifted by his strong arms. His cock was warm at your entrance and his breath shallow. „Please Bucky. Keep your promise my big, strong Alpha. Put a baby in me.” He snarled and pushed himself inside of you in one movement. Your loud moans for sure heard guests at the party even over the music. But neither of you cared. „Please move Bucky.” He smirked and started shifting in and out in fast strokes. His thumb was playing with your clit and in mere minutes you felt him growing inside of you and you revealed your neck for him more. His knot swelled and his teeth sank in your soft flesh. Your body was built for this but it was still like someone threw you under hot water. Your body was burning, you were hardly breathing and your head was numb from all that pleasure. Bucky was slowly licking drops of blood from your neck and then he kissed you. „You are the best my sweet, sweet Omega.” He pushed damp hair from your face. „You think it worked?” You were trying for baby for over two months now. You cheekily smirked at him. „It worked three weeks ago.” He was shocked. „What?! And you didn't tell me?” „Happy birthday daddy.” He kissed you again, this time tenderly. „I can´t believe it! All those role plays and other things we did, worked.” You smiled at him lovingly. „It did.” For moment you were quiet. „We should go back.” he sighted. „But damn girl your triggered my Rut again.” He pull out off you slowly and helped you to clean yourself with his shirt. „And you my Heat, so we are even.” He crouched down, his face in front of your belly. „Hello baby.” he said softly. „I love you. And your momma.” You caressed his head and started to cry. „Oh baby, we made her teary. Don’t worry. I´m gonna fix it.” He stood up and took your face in his hands. „You are not going on the party again. Go home. I will be there soon.” He kissed your nose and was watching as you walked to your cabin.

He went the other direction. Some unmated Omegas were glancing at him but he didn't care. He stood up in the middle of small stage and tapped on microphone. Everyone looked at him. „I wanna thank you all for coming to my birthday party and for the presents. But now I have to leave you and take care of my pregnant wife.” His smile was wide when he looked over the surprised faces. „I'm gonna be a father!” he shouted and room erupted in happy screams and congratulations. „Ok, ok. Yeah, it´s amazing. Thank you all again and good night.” He almost ran away from there as he felt another hot wave rush through his body.

You were waiting for him in your bed with wooden box and card on top of it. „Is it for me?” You nodded and watched him as he opened the card and started to cry over black and white photo. „It´s so tiny.” he choked. „I know.” Now you were crying too. „Our baby Barnes.” „And what´s in the box?” „Open it.” He did and took out small pair of trainers. One had 'girl' on it and the other one had 'boy'. „I don’t know which one we are having so I took both.” you whispered. He reached in box again and found soft bodysuits in different colours and a dummy. After few moments when he was just staring at it and silently crying, he smiled at you. „It´s best birthday present ever. Thank you doll.” You put everything away and climbed on top of him. „Ready for round two, birthday boy?”

#happy birthday bucky #a/b/o au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #10.3.21 #bucky fanfic

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watermelonsugawara · 4 years ago

Note

Hi wife ❤️❤️ give me some jealous Kuroo action please!!! like you’ve been studying w a guy from one of your classes a bunch and he doesn’t like it. It can be SFW or NSFW, whatever your preference is but I would really enjoy a jealous kuroo 🤤

YESSS MY BEAUTIFUL WIFEEE hi :) lemme give u some kuroo foooood

❥ warnings: nsfw; like a lil spice?; a liiiiittle teasing, a liiiiittle grinding, fingering, choking, spitting, creampie, JK A LOT OF SPICE LMFAO

❥ characters: jealous!kuroo x fem!reader

❥ a/n: kuroo can fuck dis pussy up any day. thats literally my only note lmfao. so uhhh here u go yall

ALSO MY BAD ILL PUT A KEEP READING WHEN IM OFF MOBILE LOLL

❥ wc: idk i typed on my phone i’ll figure it out later lol

...

Kuroo continued to tap his pencil against his textbook, echoing throughout the coffee shop. He held his chin in his hand, checking the time every few minutes. 3:43 pm, his phone read. 7 more minutes before (Y/N) leaves, he thought, pouting to himself. He didn’t realize his pout was visible to you until you closed your book and reached a hand across the table to stop Kuroo’s incessant pencil taps. The feeling of your small hand on his pulled him out of his thoughts to look at you.

“Tetsu, what’s wrong?” you asked, rubbing small circles on his hand. Your boyfriend had known you had a partner project that you had been working on for a few weeks, so you’ve been cutting your study dates short to meet with your classmate. Despite knowing every time, Kuroo acts pouty all over again, seeming to count down the seconds before you have to go.

“Nothing,” Kuroo sighed, covering your small hand with his large one, “I’m just gonna miss yoooooooou.” He drawled out the last word and pouted his plush lips.

“We are finishing up the project today, so I’ll be out a bit longer,” you began, and Kuroo’s eyebrows immediately furrowed. “But then I won’t have to leave our study dates early again. I’ll meet you back at the apartment, okay baby?”

Kuroo concealed his jealousy with a soft smile as he nodded in agreement. He watched as you began packing up your belongings to go meet your classmate at the library. It made his blood boil knowing your attention was going towards another guy, even just for some school project. He cleaned up his own books and pushed in his chair at the table. He planted a quick kiss on your lips before you two parted ways.

Kuroo sat on the couch at your apartment, shaking his leg anxiously. He picked up his phone to check the time, the bright screen reading 8:34 pm. He frowned at the absence of your texts and your absence in general. He tried to put his focus back to his homework, but his mind continued to wander. He didn’t even know what this guy looked like anyway. Surely this classmate isn’t more attractive than him ...right?

Kuroo shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind just as you turned the key in the doorknob. He instantly perked up at the sound, nearly leaping off the couch to greet you. You couldn’t even set your bag down as Kuroo snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

“(Y/N), I missed you,” Kuroo said against your skin, his voice a little deeper than usual. His voice vibrated against the crook of your neck, sending a spark of heat through your body. You pulled away from the hug to look at your boyfriend, a soft smile painted across his face. You cupped his jaw and pulled him to a kiss that was intended to be quick, but there was a hint of neediness coming from the way Kuroo’s lips moved against yours. You pulled away to look at home once more. “Is everything okay?” You asked.

“Yes, I just missed you... a lot. I hate being away from you,” Kuroo said quietly, his face heating up slightly. You looked at him puzzled, as you’ve been gone to study with friends countless times before, but then it clicked.

“Babe, are you jealous?” You questioned, emphasizing the last word just a bit too hard causing Kuroo’s face to turn an even deeper shade of red. Clearly he didn’t like to say the actual word out loud, you felt his grip on your waist get a little bit tighter.

“Maybe, but is that so bad? You’re my girlfriend and I don’t want any guys getting the wrong idea,” Kuroo responded sharply, his envy getting the best of him. The thought of someone else’s hands on your skin set a fire ablaze beneat his skin, making his muscles tense.

You set your bag down and slipped your jacket off your shoulders, hanging it on the hooks by the door. You held your boyfriend’s face in your hands, seeing the conflicting feelings of envy and desire in his expression. You pulled his ear close to your mouth and whispered, “I’ll always be yours, Tetsu.”

The way you breathed his name against his ear caused his cock to twitch in his sweats. He quickly pulled you into another heated kiss, grabbing the backs of your thighs to lift you up. You pushed off the floor and jumped into his arms with ease, his hands quickly finding purchase on your ass underneath your skirt. You kiss the sensitive spot near his ear, pulling a low growl out of Kuroo. He walks the two of you over to the couch where he sits and you feel his length pressing against your center. You moaned at the feeling, grinding down harder against him. Kuroo slipped a hand between your bodies towards your center, biting his lip at the feeling of your juices along your folds.

“Holy shit, kitten. You’re so wet already,” he breathed, running a finger up and down your slit. You moved your hips, desperate for more contact, but Kuroo quickly took note of this pulls his hand out from your panties and you whined at the lost of contact. “Someone’s eager,” Kuroo smirked.

“Tetsu please, I need you,” you moaned, your hands pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat speed up. He wrapped his large hand around your neck, your lips parting at the pressure but no sound comes out. His other hand slips his thumb into your mouth, marveling at how your plush lips suck around his finger, the feeling of your hot tongue making precum leak from the tip of his cock. He dragged his thumb out to open your mouth, and right as you closed your eyes, you felt his spit land on your tongue, letting out a loud moan before swallowing it as quickly as it came.

“Good girl, always so ready for me,” Kuroo praised, releasing a hand from your neck to lie you down on the couch. He pulled your shirt over head and unclasped your bra, wasting no time to cup your breasts and suck on your sensitive nub, pinching and swirling his finger around the other. He peppered kisses down your abdomen before pulling off your panties, his long fingers brushing your slit, gathering your essence. Your back arched as he pushed in two fingers at once, your hands immediately gripping his strong biceps. His fingers pumped deep into you, quickly finding the soft spot that made your toes curl. Endless rambles and gasps fell from your lips as he hit your spot over and over, but he pulled out his long fingers just as the heat in your stomach reached its peak.

Kuroo quickly pulled down his sweats and boxers simultaneously, his thick cock finally free from its restraints. Kuroo uses the juices from his fingers to coat the head, and he hovered over you to line up with your core. He moved his hips to tease your folds with the tip of his cock, causing you to writhe beneath him as you whispered, “Tetsu, please, I want you inside me.”

“Well fuck, when you say my name like that, I can’t resist kitten,” Kuroo groaned and he pushed his cock into you slowly, your walls stretching around the head. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how full you felt, and he was only halfway. You wrapped your legs around his waist to push him even further into you. Kuroo clenched his jaw as you clenched around him, the slick of your walls driving him insane.

“My god, kitten you’re just sucking me in,” Kuroo groaned, his eyes locked on where you two were connected. “Your pussy was just made to fit around my cock, wasn’t it?” Kuroo continued to rut his hips into you, going at a relentless pace. He’d pull back until just the head was still inside your pussy before slamming his hips back into you and hitting you g-spot, curses spilling out of your mouth. Kuroo leaned down to suck dark marks into your skin, soothing the spots with his wet tongue. Your hands carded through his hair, pulling it into fists, making him moan against your hot skin. A strong heat began to pool in your stomach as Kuroo mercilessly hit the spongy spot inside of you.

His thrusts became erratic as he neared his release, slowly attempting to pull out before he finished, but you used your legs to keep him inside you. Kuroo looked up at you, his pupils blown just thinking about what you’re gonna say next.

“Fill me up, baby, I want it, I n-need it,” you moaned, sending Kuroo over the edge. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and with a loud groan he came inside you, the feeling of his white ropes of cum inside you brought you to your own climax, crying out his name he fucked you through your high.

Kuroo pulled out and slumped beside you on the couch, both of you trying to catch your breath. You started to feel Kuroo’s cum drip out of your pussy, but before you could close your legs, Kuroo slid his hand to catch it with his finger, sliding it into your overstimulated walls. You bucked your hips at the feeling and looked over to him with wide eyes.

“Oh, you thought I was done with you, pretty girl?”

...

#kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #haikyuu smut #alli writes some spice #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader

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the-melting-world · 4 years ago

Text

Strength | Side B: "Colder Heavens"

art by @ ligiawrites

~ In which a former Count breaks a very important rule…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Lucio | Valdemar

Track Origins: “Colder Heavens” by Blanco White

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: Strength

Khleo is Non-binary and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably

cw: language, alcohol, blood, violence, mild gore

~ 3.3k words

***

~ 17 years ago ~

Hans von Heine shrugged the heavy sack of potatoes off his shoulder as he arrived at the door of his small flat. He unlocked the door and shortly after letting himself inside, he was met with a very tired, “Careful. There’s glass on the floor.”

Hans looked up and locked eyes with his wife, Magda. She was still busy sweeping up the remains of broken ceramic bowls in the kitchen.

“What happened?” Hans asked, gracefully sidestepping the uneven shards. There was no alarm or urgency in his voice, only concerned curiosity. After dropping off the potato sack, he began to help Magda by collecting the larger pieces.

“Khlee.” Magda sighed. “She had another headache and panicked.”

Hans grunted as he stood up. “It’s been a while since her last one. I’ll go talk to her.”

Magda got up too and touched his shoulder. “She’s finally up and moving but…” The skin around the woman’s clear blue eyes wrinkled slightly. “She can’t lift her arms, Hans.”

He covered her hand with his larger one and used the other to gently massage a little tension out of her shoulders. When she relaxed some, he nodded in understanding. “Thank you, Magda. We’ll come help you with dinner soon.”

Magda looked around. “What did you bring for me this time?”

Hans’ dark beard stretched over his toothy grin. “Kartoffeln.”

Magda rolled her eyes. “Wieder, Hans?”

He chuckled as he disengaged from her and popped a kiss to her brow. “Yes. Again. Khlee likes them and they’re cheap.”

Magda drifted back to her task. “Hm. I can see what you’re doing. You want to take her to the beer garden this weekend.”

“The festival is in town,” Hans said. “And I’m willing to bet that wherever Khlee came from, she’s never been to one quite like ours.”

When Hans left the kitchen, he didn’t have to walk very far to get to Khlee’s room. He found his child sitting on the edge of her cot, swinging her legs and glaring at the wall. Though she hadn’t been a part of their household for very long, Hans still felt like they had brought her up since birth.

“Mama says you’re walking now,” He said as he closed the door behind him. “I’m very proud of you.” He took a seat beside her.

Khlee tensed underneath the warm poncho Magda had quilted for her. It was large enough to allow her arms to hide away unless she wanted it otherwise.

“Mama helped me.”

Hans lowered his gaze to Khlee’s knees, which bore fresh cuts from the broken dishes.

“Oh? So is that how you thank her? By breaking all of her kitchenware?”

Khlee drew in sharp breath and leaned over as if to cradle her head, but she couldn’t.

“Papa, I didn’t mean to, I swear! I… I was trying to remember something, but I–”

Hans cursed himself for taking it too far. “Khlee, calm yourself. No one is angry with you.” He gathered her head under his chin and held the wheezing child until her breathing was back under control.

“Now.” Hans sat her upright and pushed some of those wild curls out of her dark eyes. “What about your arms? Show me the progress you’ve made.”

Khlee puffed out her cheeks once, twice. Then she strained hard enough to grow veins in her neck. The only evidence beyond that of her effort was the rigid tension in her shoulders.

Hans smiled fondly. “That’s all right, Khlee.”

She gave a violent shake of her head and clenched her jaw against the resistance. “No. Wait, Papa. I can–”

Hans placed his hands on her shoulders. “That’s enough for now. You’ll grow into them…. Now come with me.”

As he pulled Khlee onto her feet, he glanced down at her knees to make sure she didn’t aggravate her cuts. Oddly, the cuts were still there, but no longer weeping. They looked more like scabs now, as if they were halfway done healing.

“Papa?”

Hans put the thought out of his mind before Khlee could notice the concern in his face. He looked down at her and ruffled her hair. “First we’ll help your mother in the kitchen. Then I’m going to show you how to use those legs.”

Khlee shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to adjust her poncho. “What do you mean?”

With a smile, Hans gently guided her towards the door. “There’s a few folk dances from the Heine that I want to show you. You don’t need your arms for those.”

Khlee grumbled something about how dancing was stupid.

Hans only chuckled. “Trust me, meine kleine Khleo, a dance will come in handy the next time you feel like you want to break something.”

~ Present Day ~

“Hey, Basil.”

Lucio beckoned the mixologist over. As soon as he found out that Khleo’s coworker with the cropped salt and pepper curls and cool blue eyes was helping out that night with the club’s activities, he took the opportunity to catch the barhand’s attention.

Lucio couldn’t tell if the look Basil shot him was wary or friendly or a little bit of both. But he came down to his side of the minibar anyway and started cleaning a fresh glass.

“Montag, right? Did you need something?”

Now that Basil was closer, Lucio could count the dark marks scattered about his olive-toned skin. Lucio, who was feeling a lot more confident these days, let his eyes linger a little longer than average before speaking again.

“Enjoying the view?” Basil whispered, his eyes still on his task.

Lucio cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from the barhand’s tanned forearms.

“Say, Basil. Do you know why Khleo never fights?”

Basil finally looked up, but instead of locking eyes with Lucio, he cast his gaze over the former Count’s shoulder at the rest of the members mingling about the basement.

“Sounds like that’s not the first time you’ve asked that question.”

Lucio surrendered his hands. “I’m just curious is all. Trust me, I don’t have any plans to challenge Khlee in a fight. I’m no fool.”

Basil’s eyes finally met Lucio’s. “Khleo doesn’t fight that often because they don’t bleed. Or at least, not for very long. I have a feeling they keep out of the ring just to make everyone else feel comfortable.”

Lucio made a curious sound. “They cast some sort of regenerative spell before the fight or..?”

Basil shook his head. “It’s not magic. They’re blessed or... bewitched. Whatever you want to call it. If you want to know more, you’ll have to ask Hefe.”

Lucio glanced over at the fireplace and shuddered. “I am. Not. Doing that.”

He was briefly reminded of a few days back when he woke up in the hearth with no clue of how he got there. He remembered most of everything that happened the day before up until after the fight club had let out for the night. The very edges of his memory contained snippets of Khleo pouring themself a drink and asking Lucio if he wanted some. After that it was just a haze in which Hefe’s face sometimes showed up. She would lock Lucio into her amber stare and somehow amplify the space around his head with headache-inducing vibrations.

“Like you said,” Basil smiled a bit more openly than before, “you’re no fool.”

They laughed together and after that, their conversation flowed with much more ease. Lucio managed to ask Basil on a date before getting dragged into club meeting activities. He walked out of the bar with fresh bruises and a split lip that suffered even more under his wide, content smile.

Lucio hardly noticed the days passing him by. By now he was a pro at reserving himself a place to lay his head at night and grab breakfast in the morning for free. On the days where he didn’t have fight club to look forward to, he spent his time volunteering at the very centers where he stayed. Most of the work was boring and the people who passed through made his gut twist in sympathy, but it kept him busy.

One day, Lucio was enjoying a late breakfast of grits and sardines when a rough-looking bunch filed in. After they got their food, they collected around Lucio, who couldn’t help noticing their stares.

Some things never changed with Lucio. He still enjoyed attention. Whether he was happily getting his ass kicked in the ring or peacocking around at a masquerade party, something stirred pleasantly in his abdomen whenever all eyes were on him.

And he knew exactly why the rough newcomers had gathered around to stare at him.

“Those are some gnarly war wounds.”

Lucio grinned quietly to himself as he finished the rest of his food. “Thank you.”

One of them scooted close enough to him to bump elbows. “Tell us where you got ’em.”

Lucio coughed in order to hide a burp before looking up at the twelve or so individuals.

“Well, see here’s the thing,” he said with a sly grin. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

The curiosity on their faces immediately turned into intrigue, which got Lucio’s pulse quickening. He was enjoying this.

Several of the group glanced at one in particular. The leader, if Lucio had to guess. He was a big fella with about a dozen rings decorating his ears, creating frills of copper and obsidian glass.

“Look, we get it. You’re no rat. But me and my friends, we’re uh… a restless bunch.” He leaned over the table in order to whisper to Lucio. “We’re not looking to cause any trouble. We just need a place to let off some steam, you know?”

Lucio hesitated for a moment. “I do. I know what you mean.”

The one who had brushed elbows with him earlier, slung an arm over his shoulder and said, “So, you don’t have to tell us anything, but maybe you can point us in the general direction?”

Almost immediately after he had, the group of friends took their food and abandoned the table. Lucio sat there, a little bewildered. A part of him had expected them to stay a while and chat him up a little more.

He tried to shake off the sour feeling and just focus on looking forward to fight club. By the time evening had rolled around, Lucio’s skin was tingling with excitement. He was one of the first to arrive at the tavern basement. Khleo hadn’t returned from her delivery shift yet, but it seemed she had already set the table with bread and pilsners. These days, there was a large sign propped up on the middle of the table that read: Clean up after yourselves or no bread ever again!

The rest of the members started to file in not long after Lucio sat down. The companions he had made greeted him and gave him the attention he had been craving since that morning. At some point, Khleo swept in, looking sore and sulky from a long day’s work. But the club members knew how to lift her spirits and very soon all of them were barefoot and clustering around the center of the room, trying to decide who would be fighting first.

The friendly atmosphere, however, turned cold the moment the door that led out onto the street opened and a new presence entered the space.

“You’re telling me that there was a fight club right here under the Chandrian this whole time?”

Lucio, who was positioned near the back wall, strained to look over all of the heads between him and the new voice. Whispers broke out among the fighters.

“Who the hell are those guys?”

The intruder stepped into the light and repeated himself. “Who’s club is this? We want to talk to the manager.”

Lucio blinked suddenly as he recognized the man from Temple District. It appeared that he had brought along his whole flock from that morning and then some.

“Heard you had a friendly little club going and we wanted to see if the rumors were true. See we’ve just stolen a brand new ship and we need a bigger staff. So I’m here to recruit.”

Finally, Khleo separated herself from the sea of members. She scanned her crowd and said coldly, “Which one of you ran your damn mouth?”

Lucio felt the blood drain from his face as he drifted back and back and back into the shadows. When his spine collided with the wall, he edged to the right towards the little hallway nestled under the stairs.

His skin jumped as he heard Khleo repeat her question in a sterner tone. Lucio scrambled over crates and stumbled through racks of costumes until he was sure he was safe.

“Hello, Lucio.”

Lucio swung his fist at the sound of the voice, missed, and tripped into the brick wall hard enough to split his lip back open.

“Interesting... that they let you stay in this club.”

Lucio steadied himself against the wall. “Quaestor. W-what are you doing here?”

All that was visible in the dim light was the silhouette of Valdemar’s mummified horns.

“Bringing my tuna home of course. It’s been fourteen days. Or have you in all your frolic not been paying attention?” They came closer and drew a deep, wet breath. “Not that I’m complaining. Your blood smells more rare and ripe than I could have imagined. Well done.”

Lucio swallowed. “Wait. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to the Lazaret!”

It wasn’t in Valdemar’s nature to care what their experiments desired or craved. They unhatched a portal behind Lucio for easy transportation right before lifting their heel and kicking him square in the chest. Lucio stumbled backwards into the gooey blackness. Valdemar followed shortly after.

***

“You?” The challenger snorted. “You can’t be the one in charge. You’re just a squirt with freakish arms.”

“I bet they’re not even real,” one of his companions drawled. “Probably just some parlor trick glamour.”

“Get lost. You’re not recruiting anyone tonight.” Khleo said as they looked up into the eyes of the challenger with the frilled earrings. Without hesitation, he stepped up to Khleo and gave their chest an easy shove.

“We weren’t asking for permission. If your people don’t want to come with us, we’ll just take the ones we need.” He and some of his crew gestured vaguely to the weapons fastened to their hips.

Khleo lifted their chin. “If you weren’t looking for permission, why in the hell did you ask to speak to the manager?”

A couple of snickers erupted from Khleo’s side.

Earrings gave a nasty scowl before spitting by Khleo’s foot. “You got a lot of mouth for someone who calls themself the damn manager.”

“Meet me in the ring and I’ll show you how I got that title.” Khleo said. “If it ends in a KO or I tap out, you can take whoever you want.” They stretched out their hand. “And if I win, you leave us the fuck alone.”

The challenger snatched their hand up. “You’re on.”

Khleo could feel the eyes of all of the patrons. They knew what they were thinking. This wasn’t the first time some low life had found out about the club and came in trying to shake things up. The patrons must have been wondering why Khleo had chosen to fight.

I need this. I need to do this.

< I’m here. >

Khleo felt the soothing presence of their familiar across their mental link. They wished they could reach out and stroke her.

~ I know, Hefe. Thank you. ~

The challenger met them in the ring and didn’t hold back. He was a street fighter before this, that much was certain. His familiarity with Khleo’s style made them go into the defensive. He was much bigger than them and knew how to grapple correctly.

But Khleo wasn’t about to hold back. Not this time.

They gave the challenger an opening. With a sure punch, he knocked Khleo’s head back, filling the air was a short, sickening crunch. The challenger’s followers whooped in excitement while the fight club members gasped in disbelief.

Khleo staggered, but instinctively raised their elbows around their head.

“See?” The challenger scoffed. “I knew you were all talk. You practically let me hit you.”

Khleo stopped swaying and firmly planted their feet. They lowered their arms and pulled themself out of the hunch so everyone could see what happened to their face.

The challenger sneered in distaste at what he was seeing.

Khleo stared right back at him, refusing to cradle their unhinged jaw, seemingly unaware of the blood leaking from where teeth and jawbone had torn their skin apart. Khleo snapped their head hard enough to seal off the gaping chasm. The crowd’s disgusted groans turned into gasps of disbelief at the sight of Khleo’s jaw stitching itself together.

“Go on,” they said, wiping the leftover blood on the back of their hand. “Hit me again.”

The challenger didn’t look like he wanted to do anything of the sort, but it was clear that the approval of his crew meant a lot to him. Khleo hoped he would walk away, she really hoped he would. But all he did by staying was make himself a target. For their anger, their frustration, every weight that had been added onto them in the past few weeks.

Khleo didn’t hold back her strength as she fought. The challenger was no match for her and this fight was not fair. But Khleo went over the edge a long time ago. She didn’t care.

There were so many things she couldn’t fight back against. So she fought the challenger. She fought and fought and clawed at his decorated ears with her blunt fingernails. She emptied out all her kicks and elbows to his face until it was unrecognizable.

Khleo wrestled their opponent to the ground and fired a right hook to his cheek. All the bystanders were screaming now. This was no longer a fight. It was bloodsport. And Khleo knew better than anyone how silly with delight a crowd could get from it.

In an attempt to regain some control, the challenger roared in defiance and cracked his forehead against Khleo’s nose.

The crowd erupted with excitement.

Khleo slowed down, bringing the challenger close enough so that he could see her nose render and heal with his own eyes. The incredulous terror in the challenger’s eyes made Khleo break into a wide, blood-stained grin.

“You should kill me and see what happens.”

He tried to tap out. “Okay, you win. You win!” The longer he looked at her, the more his lip trembled in fear for his life. Tears and snot soon mixed with the blood leaking from his contorted face.

Khleo ignored their own rules and snarled, “What the fuck are you crying for? You’re the one who came up in my house! And for what? To intimidate my friends into joining your disgusting crew?”

“I’m sorry! I said I was done!”

The tapout had served its purpose – to snap everyone else out of their bloodlust. They tried to talk Khleo down, reminding her that it was over. When they started to pull her off of the man, Khleo thrashed.

“No – Let me go! If he wants to cry, I’ll give him something to cry about!”

She lunged. The challenger begged for his crew to help. The seconds that followed were simply pandemonium. Patrons and the intruders clashed, wrestling each other to the ground. Several fighters dogpiled Khleo at once in order to protect the challenger. She wheezed under their crushing weight.

Then the sounds of fighting were interrupted by a wild, guttural roar. The cacophony of screams that followed caused Khleo to twist in agony.

“There’s a fucking lion in here!”

Khleo drew in a ragged breath as the weight lifted from her back. She scrambled to her feet. Not long after she righted herself did she hear something that made her blood run cold.

The door at the top of the stairs flung open and a booming voice filled the space.

“What in the gods-damned fuck is going on down there!”

People were already running and tripping over each other, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the lion. Khleo tried to reach out to Hefe through their link, but it was too late. Otto was already at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the mess of the basement as well as the enormous lion terrorizing all of his potential customers.

~ Hefe. He saw you. Go! ~

Hefe didn’t argue with her human. She stole out into the street, chasing off the last of the challenger’s crew. Once she was gone, Khleo turned to face their boss. They took a deep breath because they knew they were in for it.

Khleo needed a miracle. Because she was certain that after tonight, there wouldn’t be any more fight club.

#the arcana #khleo the barhand #arcana albums #arcana albums: strength #lucio #count lucio #lucio the arcana #quaestor valdemar #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fanfiction #the arcana fic #blood cw #alcohol cw #gore cw #violence cw

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wanna-do-bad-things · 4 years ago

Text

Expecting.

Summary: Tired of dating for nothing, Henry laid everything out for her on that very first date. But when he gets everything he hoped for, there’s one thing left that he really wants.

Word count: 1683

Warnings: trying to get pregnant (no heartbreak tho, it just takes a lil time), fluffy baby daddy Henry

A/N: this was for @henrythickcavill, requested via my patreon.

________

Henry has been on cloud nine ever since she told him she was pregnant. Tired and mentally exhausted trying to find the right person, Henry had all but given up. It’s not that he was actively looking for a girlfriend, or wife in his case, but he did hope that when the right person came along, he’d just know. He’d feel it in his bones. He didn’t think it would happen like it does in the movies, where everything aligns, everything tastes better, music sounds better and he can breathe like he’s never breathed before. But he thought he’d feel something different.

She didn’t breeze into his life. She didn’t make him understand now why everything else hadn’t worked out. But what she did do was make him wonder how the hell he’d managed to feel so complete before when he felt bursting at the seams when he was around her. He’d laid it all on the table on their first date.

“I know this is a little full on, but I’m going to be honest with you. I can’t keep doing meaningless dates. If you’re not looking for something serious, something long term and possibly the end goal, then this date isn’t going to go far. You can leave, I’ll still pay for the bill, but I won’t hold it against you. I understand not everyone will be on the same page.”

Instead of pushing her chair back, grabbing her coat and bag and walking out of the restaurant, she pulled her chair a little closer, poured them both a drink and said, “so what colour theme are we having at the wedding and how many children are we having?”

She took an open interest in what he had to say, she challenged him on a few of his viewpoints just for a good conversation piece. They shared many of the same opinions and differed on a handful but nothing deal breaking or something that neither could get past. Henry understood that not everyone was the same and listening to her speak was amazing. He adored that they were on the same page when it came to values and their life.

As the weeks and months went on, he tried to trip her up. Tried to catch her out and see if she was just spoon feeding him everything he wanted to hear but no, it continued to flow almost perfectly. Henry took her on several vacations per year, she joined him on set, rode him when he needed his stress relieving and helped him with his lines. She was by no means a good actress, but she would try to put her feelings into it, try to give the script some sort of justice and helped Henry when he needed it.

They married three years later, with her joking that Henry would rush her down the aisle just so he could get straight to the baby making part of marriage. But it didn’t happen as quickly as either of them hoped. She came off her birth control and though they’d lose themselves within the sheets (or on the counter tops, table, against the hallway wall, the sofa, his gaming chair…just anywhere which could hold their weight,) as often as possible without wanting to take the fun out of sex and just have it for the sake of having a baby, pregnancy just wasn’t as easy to happen as they’d thought.

A year and half into their marriage, she’d began to draw up schedules, bought thermometers to check her temperature and downloaded several “trying to get pregnant” apps. She tracked her cycles, found the optimum times for having sex and had started to pitch it all to Henry when she realised she was two weeks late.

He’d sat there before her, waiting for her to reach the main part of her big presentation of why looking at their baby making schedule would be most effective when he’d watched the blood drain from her face and her scramble out of the room, roughly slamming the bathroom door closed and lock it before he’d been able to fully understand what had just happened. He’d heard things dropping onto the floor, things being torn open and as he’d stood nervously on the other side of the bathroom door, his hand on the wooden surface, listening carefully for anything which could give him an idea of what had happened, he’d finally heard the little sob that came from her.

“Are you ok?” He’d asked softly, not wanting to refer to her by any pet names, instead addressing her by her name. She hadn’t replied for a moment or two, just the sound of her soft cries filling the room in which he couldn’t access until she’d finally slid the lock open and he found her sitting on the floor, surrounded by torn open pregnancy test boxes and four tests sitting in front of her, letters boasting PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on each of them.

Henry hadn’t wanted to go too crazy. He’d wanted this for too long and didn’t want to curse anything by purchasing anything too early. He’d gripped her hand, their fingers locked together, tears falling from his eyes as he’d pressed their hands to his lips as his eyes had remained fixated on the screen during her scan, watching as their two babies wriggled around for them. Watching as their tiny limbs stretched out and they flipped themselves around in their little bubble of comfort.

With each passing week, Henry ensured that he took care of any of the big jobs, needing her to take it as easily as possible. She hadn’t wanted to completely give up their workouts, and he’d make sure that he was there to observe each one, with a personalised plan specifically for pregnancy. They scoured the websites for the perfect nursery set up. With the babies genders remaining a secret, pots of neutral paint sits in the room. Dust sheets are down ready to catch any splatters of paint which hadn’t made it onto the walls. Tins of light colours are waiting to be applied and Henry has changed into his “DIY” clothes which are sweatpants and a loose, though still fitted for him, cotton tee shirt.

Most of the walls will be a pale grey to match the carpet, but there’ll be soft mint greens, duck egg blues, pale yellows scattered around the room in forms of cuddle bears, artwork and books that he wants to read to them. Two rocking chairs have been placed, and tested, and he already looks forward to sitting in them while reading to the two of them as they have their feed, much like he’s already done with her sitting beside him, their joined hands pressed to her large bump as he’d read some of his favourite childhood stories to them so that they would already recognise his voice. She’s due in one months’ time, and only now does he feel confident enough to begin to paint and assemble everything he’d bought.

She’d caught him in the middle of their living room two months ago, the boxes emptied out and him checking every screw, every nut, bolt and piece against the assembly instructions to ensure that everything was there, fully prepared with the phone and laptop beside him to make all the forms of contact needed to get the right parts sent out. “I’m not leaving it until last minute to then find out something is missing, or wrong or damaged and it’s too late.”

He’s strolled around the house with the double pram, telling her he needed to break in the wheels. He’s practiced for what felt like hours closing the pram and re-opening it again. Getting it in and out of the large car which he bought for the babies in mind. He’s tested numerous ways of picking up the baby carriers and how to get them in and out of the car with ease. He’s completed a baby first aid course and made sure he’s bought enough things to baby proof the house.

“You have some explaining to do.” She says, waddling into the doorway of the nursery, holding up some of the baby outfits he’s purchased.

“Look at the little cape though.” He grins, putting down the paint roller and tray before he’s even applied the first stroke. He walks over to her, his hand instinctively going to her belly as the other touches the cape of the baby vest which reads “my daddy is superman.”

“And this?” She holds up a mini Chiefs kit.

“I don’t make the rules around here. It’s law that they should match their daddy.”

“But what if they choose to suppo-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Henry cuts her off with a wag of his finger, “we don’t have none of that negativity around here. Absolutely not.” It takes everything she can muster not to crack another smile and to try and keep her expression as neutral as possible but the stern look upon Henry’s face makes it more difficult to do so.

“You can’t wait for this, can you?” She asks him as she sinks down into her rocking chair and slowly goes back and forth, sighing contently to get the weight from her swelling ankles and sore feet.

“Lumberjack beard, bags under my eyes so big I could do a months shopping in them and endless stories of ‘so yeah, my kid pooped today’ conversations. I can’t wait.”

“No dad bod?” She questions.

“I’m a daddy now, and I’ve got a body.” You sure are daddy, she thinks. If she weren’t suffering from her aching hips, she’d be wanting to climb onto his lap and ride him. He looks far too good right now.

“Yeah you have, now let me see that body of yours get to work….on this room. Not on me.” She says, holding up her finger and lifting a leg up as though that could stop Henry from covering her body with his own, “you’ve done enough.”

“Well, you know what they say… it helps to speed things along…”

#henry cavill one shot #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill imagine

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years ago

Text

Void of Extinction by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 8/9

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic

Chapter 8: Confrontation

“Just give it to me straight, Ruby, don’t go making up tales now.” The dark-haired woman chuckled defiantly from her spot on the bed in the corner of the room, the plastic walls separating her from the rest of the occupants in the room.

“It’s not good, Mum.” Ruby said softly. “It started spreading the moment it got in your blood stream. The doctors said it matches the data they have on file for J2.”

“So that’s it then.” The woman nodded resolutely before turning her attention to Emma. “Did the message make it to Merlin?”

Emma bit her lip, and her eyes met his for a moment before turning back to Mary Margaret. “Not all of it.”

“Enough?”

Emma shook her head. “I think so, I don’t know.”

“Where’s Will?”

Killian took Emma’s hand when he heard her loud exhale, knowing that the tears would be coming shortly after. “He’s next door. He uh…” She sniffled and the woman sat up in her bed.

“J2.” Ruby responded softly.

“Dammit.” The demure woman cursed. Killian sighed and pulled Emma against his chest. “So, what’s next?”

“Mum, you need to rest.” Ruby demanded.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap, Red. You know I don’t rest.”

“I contacted David.” Killian said suddenly, causing all the eyes in the room to turn toward him.

“What?” Emma asked horrified. “Why would you do that?”

Killian gestured toward the woman in the bed. “It’s his wife, he deserves to know.”

“Killian.” Mary Margaret spoke softly. “Did he…did he say anything?”

“He’s confused, doesn’t understand why you were there. I didn’t tell him much, just not to trust Regina, things aren’t what they seem, J2.” He added quietly at the end.

“He must be so angry.”

“He’s a good cop, if I know David, he’ll do some digging, figure things out.”

“You could have put him in danger.” Ruby exclaimed.

“Compared to what? We aren’t exactly on vacation here, love! We need help on the outside, Dave’s a good man.”

“He’s right. My husband followed the Mayor’s lead because he believed in what she was doing, but things have changed, she’s not who he thought she was, he’ll follow the leads, do what he thinks is right.”

In his pocket, his communicator beeped. Killian held up his hand and pulled it from his jacket. “We need to talk.” David’s voice boomed in his ear. “Now.”

“Speak of the devil, we were just talking about you.” He said light heartedly, hoping to set the man at ease.

“You aren’t listening to me. We need to meet. I want to see my wife; I have information you all need to see.”

“I can come to you…”

“No, no deals. I come to you.” He demanded and Killian sent a worrying glance in the woman’s direction as she stared at him in the bed.

Covering the device with his hand he talked softly. “He wants to come here; says he has information we need to hear.”

“No way, it’s a trap, he’s not just going to walk in here, no questions asked.”

“He’s worried about his wife.” Killian said honestly in response to Ruby.

“Go get him, follow our protocols.” Mary Margaret demanded of the dark-haired woman who opened her mouth to protest and then stormed out of the room.

“We’re sending one of ours to the wall. Meet her there and follow her rules or else you don’t come, Mate.”

“Fine.” He paused. “Can you tell my wife…” Killian glanced at the woman on the bed, her face pale. “Tell her that I love her.”

“Aye, Mate.” The line went dead. “He’ll meet her at the wall.”

“Thank you.” She said with a nod.

“He said to tell you that he loves you.” The woman smiled sadly as Killian took his leave from the room, Emma following him closely behind. The moment she stepped from the room; she entered the one directly beside it that held the critically ill, Will Scarlet. She nodded to him, and he watched as she closed the door behind her. He wasn’t sure how they were going to get through all of this, he only hoped that whatever David needed to speak to them about didn’t bring about more sorrow and despair.

~*~

“There’s my girl.” Will said weakly when she entered the room.

“Hey.” Emma breathed nervously. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got stabbed and injected with a plague there’s no cure for.”

Emma frowned in anger. “That’s not funny.”

He coughed. “I ‘spose not, but what else you gonna do?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me, don’t even try to deny it.”

“What are we going to do?” She cried.

“Don’t cry Emmie.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“Oi, I’m too cranky to die, I’m gonna be around long enough to embarrass Henry when he dates his first lass, or watch you marry that gent out there that can’t keep his bloody hands off ya.” Emma couldn’t stop her laughter no matter how much she just wanted to cry. “So, what’s the plan?” He asked, as she sat down in the chair across the room.

“Ruby left to bring David here, he says he has something we need to see; I don’t know. I can’t help but feel like it’s a trap, but Killian trusts him.”

“Not like we have any other brilliant plans, eh. I guess we work with what we got.” He coughed again, blood forming at the ends of his mouth as he wiped it away with his hand. “Hey, I’m fine. Really.” He tried to reassure her.

“You know I can tell when you’re lying.” She teased as the door beside her opened and Killian stepped into the room, announcing David’s arrival.

“Good, give ‘er someone else to harass.” Will joked as she stood from her seat.

“I’ll be back soon.” She promised, trying to smile as she left the room. When the door shut, Killian stopped her by placing a hand on her forearm.

“Are you alright love?”

“Of course, I’m not. My best friend is dying, I have no idea if the message I sent reached Merlin, if all of this has been for nothing, and I am honestly running out of reasons to have even a sliver of hope.” His finger brushed against her forehead, the tickle of her hair tingling against her skin.

“If the message didn’t go through, we’ll find another way,” He laced her fingers with hers, “together. But you don’t give up, not my Emma.”

A warm feeling filled her heart as his blue eyes stared back at her. She wanted to curl into his arms and believe that there was still a chance for them to win, but knowing Will was laying behind the door, dying a slow painful death, overtook any feelings of hope that tried to grow roots within her.

Killian wrapped her in his arms, and Emma melted against him, enjoying the moment of stillness and peace they had been afforded. On the other end of the hall, she heard a commotion and the sea of people parted as Ruby waked through the center. Emma withdrew from Killian and motioned to the end of the hall.

David strode toward them, a look of apprehension in his eyes as he settled them on Killian. “Where’s my wife?” He demanded as he reached them.

Killian and Emma exchanged a glance. “We need to talk, Mate.”

“I’ll talk after you take me to my wife.”

“Aye, this way.” He turned and opened the door, leading David into the room that housed Mary Margaret.

Emma stood at the back of the room as the man hesitantly approached his wife, a look of fear in his eyes. “Why would you do this?” His voice was shaking as he spoke.

“David…” She paused, as if she were rethinking her response. “I did what I thought was right.”

He hung his head. “Perhaps you were right.” He turned and looked at Killian. “I had questions.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a folder. “Things weren’t making sense. So, I did some digging.”

“Gold?”

“I followed the money. It all leads back to him, all the transactions into the Mayor’s office, research money for the Gold Collective, military operations. Money that shouldn’t be there, man.”

Killian glanced at Emma. “It’s all Hive.”

“That’s not all I found.” He almost whispered. “I saw the message to Merlin.” He turned and looked at Emma. “Of course, I had to do a search on Emma Swan. Grew up outside the walls of Storybrooke, came to town at age 14, lived on the streets for a few years until you found your payday in Neal Cassidy.”

Emma grunted. “Trust me, I didn’t want his money.”

“Did he know about your run in with J2?” Everyone turned and looked at her.

“No. His father was so interested in testing people, his search for answers seemed to have nothing to do with wanting to help people. I couldn’t trust anyone.”

“When did you know you were sick?” David asked.

“I got sick when I was 16, I had a place on the docks where others gathered at night to stay warm. A few of them got sick that winter, they didn’t last more than a few days before they were pulled from the streets, their bodies drained of life. When the fever came, I resigned myself to death. I got picked up in a sweep, they took me to a hospital for treatment. But after a few days I got better. The doctors started asking questions, I got nervous, so I ran.”

“Your blood work is in the system.” David said, opening the folder in his hands. “It was housed in one of Regina’s databases, looks like Gold flagged the information about 4 months ago.”

“That was right after I took off.”

“That’s not all they found. See I thought finding someone who had survived J2, a plague with zero cure, was a miracle, but imagine my surprise when I found you aren’t the only one.”

Emma shook her head. “There’s someone else who survived?”

David looked at Killian. “Did you know?”

“Know what, Mate?”

David handed him the folder and Killian stared at the pages in front of him. He flipped the page in his hand, his eyes wide. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What is it?” Emma asked.

“Medical records.” David answered. “Killian’s medical records, to be more specific. His bloodwork shows he had J2.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, the only time I’ve ever even been sick was when I was young. That was years before the plague.”

David turned back toward his wife, “Don’t you get it. They both carry the gene that can fight off J2.”

“What good does that do?” Killian asked.

“I don’t know, but we need to find out. Maybe they can use your blood somehow to save my wife, to save everyone.” He turned back to her, a look of desperation on his face. “Maybe if we take your blood and Killian’s blood, maybe together, together it means something.”

She paused, staring at the man in front of her and then looking at Killian. “Henry.” She said suddenly.

“He’s sleeping, love.” Killian responded.

“No, Henry is the key.” She rushed to the door and then turned back to look at Killian. “I know I said we needed to talk, and this is really not the way I wanted to do this, but…” He narrowed his eyes. “Henry isn’t Neal’s. He’s yours.” She blurted out.

“What?”

“I…I didn’t know, not until he was born. I thought he was Neal’s. We had been apart for a month when I found out, but I was so stressed out, I wasn’t thinking. When he came early, I thought it was because of the stress, but then I held him, and he opened those beautiful blue eyes, and I knew, I knew he was yours.”

“Henry’s my son?” His voice cracked and tears sprung in her eyes, she stepped back toward him and pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Henry has your blood and mine. What if…” His eyes sparkled as he stared at her. “What if he has been the answer this whole time?”

Suddenly Killian’s entire face crumbled in anger, he reached forward and grabbed Emma, pulling her toward him as she tried to understand what was happening. Then she heard a voice that made her entire body tense.

“Hello, dearie.”

~*~

Killian didn’t have a moment to deconstruct the information he had learned from Emma before Gold and his son appeared in the open door. Killian had only seconds to react, pulling Emma toward him, protecting her from the man who had caused all of her fear.

“And where is that grandson of mine?”

“You stay the hell away from him.” Emma yelled and Neal stepped toward her.

“You took him away from me.” He reached out, touching her hair as she slapped his hand away from her face. Before he could react, Neal’s fist had drawn back and made contact with Emma’s cheek. Killian stepped forward, grabbing Neal by the collar, and yanking him toward him. The man cowered for a moment before Killian heard the click of a gun and Emma’s shrill. Killian could see Gold standing next to Emma, a gun to her head. He released Neal reluctantly, holding his hands in front of him.

“Just saying, a gentleman never strikes a lady, perhaps you should have raised him with better manners.” He said with a shrug, looking over at Neal with disdain.

“Children have always been such a disappointment.” The man growled and Neal stumbled backward to step away from the group. “So, let’s change that today. Where’s the boy?” Killian glared at the man, no one in the room saying a word. “Regina.” He called out and the woman appeared in the doorway. “Bring me the brat.”

Emma shrilled as the woman left the room, setting off to search for their son.

Their son.

His son.

He had a son with Emma. He couldn’t think about that right now, right now they just needed to survive.

He caught David’s eye as the man stood on the other side of the room. Nodding his head, he stepped closer to the door as David reached behind himself, pulling the gun he always kept at his back. Things moved suddenly the moment the gun came into view. Gold twisted quickly and Emma used her shoulder to shove the older man to the ground at the exact moment that Killian rushed Neal.

The two men crashed through the open-door frame into the hallway. Killian used the man’s surprise to his advantage, punching him square in the nose before he could get his bearings.

“Killian…” He looked up to see Ruby at the other end of the hall.

“Save Henry.” He screamed, continuing his assault against the man on the ground in front of him. Ruby ran down the hall toward the rooms where Henry was sleeping. Neal watched as she ran, a sudden kick to the side causing him to lose his balance as Neal scrambled away from him.

Killian took one look into the room, watching Emma rushing at Gold, as David was shoved into the wall. He had to trust that they would be ok, he needed to get to Henry before Neal. Standing up he gave chase after the man as he ran in the direction that Ruby had disappeared.

When he reached Henry’s room, the door was open. Ducking into the room, he rushed to the bed to find it empty. Turning around he saw Ruby laying on the ground behind the door. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he lifted her off the ground as her eyes flew open. “Henry.” She exhaled.

“Where’s Henry?”

“Neal…he took him.” Killian leaned her against the wall. “Go, I’m fine. I’m right behind you.”

Killian rushed back into the hall, looking up and down to determine which way Neal would have gone. He heard a clattering at one end of the hall and ran quickly after it. He pushed through the door of the stairwell and began climbing, praying with each step that he would find his son at the top.

When he breached the door, the light flooded his eyes as he rushed into the room, the water swirling through the boat dock. He spotted movement near the boat and yelled.

“Neal.”

The man stilled his movement, spinning around with the boy in his arms.

~*~

The cane came crashing down against her arm and Emma grabbed ahold of the wooden stick, yanking it forward as the man tumbled to the ground beside her. Emma took advantage of his imbalance and climbed onto his chest, holding the wooden cane against his neck, pressing it harder as the man struggled to breathe.

“Emma.” David sent her a warning from his spot on the floor on the other side of the room as he recovered from his previous entanglement with Gold.

“He can’t live.” She cried. “He’s too dangerous.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “That’s not for us to decide.”

Emma slowed her breathing, trying to rationalize the need to remove Gold from the playing field with her need to make him pay for everything he had caused.

“He’s not worth it, Emma.” David warned softly beside her.

“He’s dangerous.” She cried, watching as the man’s eyes widened in fear below her.

“Your son needs you.” Emma flinched, relaxing her grip on the cane as the man slowly lost consciousness. She threw the cane to the ground, falling back against the wall beside her.

“Go.” She said turning toward him. “Go find Killian and Henry.”

The man nodded, turned toward his wife, and then left the room.

“All of this, because of one man.” Mary Margaret said from her bed. “Because of greed.” She said angrily.

“I’m so sorry.” Emma said as the tears fell from her face. “You don’t deserve to die.”

“Don’t you worry about me. I have faith and so should you.”

“How can you be so positive at a time like this.” She said with a laugh, wiping her face with her hands.

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t feel like giving up just yet.”

Emma smiled, she appreciated the optimism of the woman, even if she didn’t share it. Suddenly the wind was knocked out of her, a blinding pain hitting her like a lightning bolt against her back. Before she could react she was lying face down on the cold cement, a foot pressing against her head.

“Neal said you were smart, but I think he was just blinded by a pretty face. That boy of mine is not a good judge of character.”

Emma gulped for air, choking in muffled gasps. She swung her arms, trying to grasp the man behind her, if she could just get ahold of a leg of his pants, or even a shoe. Her vision was blurring, sparkles of light flashing behind her eyes as she began to lose her fight to breathe. Her hand dropped to the ground beside her, a crashing sound vibrating in her ears.

Suddenly her airway opened, she choked, sucking in breath as her lungs filled with air. Beside her a wooden cane with a brass top fell to the ground. Emma rolled onto her back, looking up at the silhouette above her, she blinked her eyes, trying to focus as a hand was extended to her.

“I’m up here doing all this work while you take a nap, eh?”

Emma grabbed Will’s hand and pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re supposed to be resting.” She said with a laugh.

“And miss all the bloody fun?” Will teased before coughing. “Now go.” He gestured to the open door.

“I can’t leave him.”

“I think Mum and I can keep an eye on him while you save the world this time.”

“We’re going to fix this.” Emma said, looking between Mary Margaret and Will.

“Go Emma, find your boy.” The woman demanded and Emma ran out the door.

~*~

Killian stared nervously at Neal as he dangled Henry over the water. “Put the kid down, Mate. He’s innocent. You want to hurt someone, come at me.”

“You know I tried to do this the easy way, all you had to do was go on with your new life. But you just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Henry’s face was red, the loud cries echoing in the hollow corners of the room. “Come on Neal.”

“Don’t!” He shouted. “You took everything away from me. Emma. My kid…”

“He was never yours to begin with.” Killian growled, which caused the man to twitch angrily, and Killian immediately regretted taunting him. “Please.” His voice cracked. “Just don’t hurt him.” He begged.

There was a loud crash behind him, causing Neal to step backwards closer to the water. Killian kept his eyes on the small bundle in the man’s arms, desperate to reach the child and pull him to safety. Suddenly Regina crashed through the crates behind him, landing on her back on the ground. David came rushing out after her, diving against the crumbled form.

Killian used the distraction to rush toward Neal who looked up right before he reached him. A smile grew on his face as he dangled the boy over the water, a menacing look on his face. Killian’s heart raced as his feet tripped closer to the man just as he released the boy into the dark waters below them.

“No!” Killian screamed as the bundled child fell into the icy water and sunk below the surface. He didn’t stop as he rushed past Neal, pushing him away from the edge and diving headfirst into the murky depths below.

#void of extinction #stacy's fics #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au #captain swan modern au #captainswan

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kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

Deuxième Omega: Part II

Summary: Jensen is not dealing well with his unexpected divorce and before the ink is even dry, he is pushed into another union with a complete stranger.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Omega!OFC

Word Count: 2859

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, angry Jensen, cursing, illness, arranged marriage, divorces, talk of Alpha dominance over Omega, suspected eating disorder, past abuses, vehicle drama

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get this part out, my antique laptop decided to eat over 2,000 words and have had to piece back together from memory so hopefully it makes sense.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles family. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse.

Part I

*Supernatural doesn’t end in season 15 and some dates/events have been altered to fit the story.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

The Next Day

Jensen waves his hand around again at that buzzing insect driving him crazy. He’s finally conscious enough to recognize the sound, it wasn’t a bug but his phone vibrating incessantly. Picking his head up and instantly regretting it starts patting around the bed for his phone.

“lo...”

“Are you still drunk?” A deep, honey-whiskey and way too damn loud for the morning voice barked at him.

“Jared?”

“No, fucking Misha.”

“Too early for your shit Jay...”

“Dude, it’s three-thirty in the afternoon.”

“WHAT!” Jensen yells sitting up too fast, the pain ricocheting throughout his head sends him flying off the bed, barely making it to the toilet before regurgitating everything he ingested last night. The toilet automatically flushes as he sits back against the bathtub groaning like a dying water buffalo.

“Really wish you'd hung up before sharing that,” Jared quips in a queasy voice, “I’m gonna regret this but Face Time me.”

Jensen cracked his eyes open enough to locate the button and tapping it Jared appears dressed in his running gear with a bandana holding his hair back. “No offense but you look like hammered shit. I was gonna call earlier but Gen threatened to have my left nut if I did.”

Jensen grunts and closes his eyes against the bright outdoor light emanating from the phone.

“Are you…” Jensen tunes him out for a minute then,“ ‘cause there’s something you need to know about, it’s really bad.”

He opens his eyes and it’s worse than he could have imagined going by the expression on Jared’s face.

“One of your clan sold you out, got it all on cellphone video, social media’s blowing up. Hell, even Fox News Channel picked it up.”

Jensen listens to the description of his expressions at the surprise traditional ceremony, his drunken stumbling around the reception with his new wife submissively following, his scoffing at the speeches during the reception and ignoring his silent, veil wife sitting next to him.

“My favorite bit was Alan and Josh carrying you out of the can.”

Jared's expression turned serious, “People are talking, we can't cover for you anymore. I got a text from higher ups cause no one could get hold of you for obvious reasons. PR’s gotta get ahead of this.”

“I’m a fuckup.”

“Yeah but we still love you. So, what's her name?”

Jensen licked his lips, biting the bottom one.

“Please tell me you know her name.”

“I..I don't even know what she looks like Jay.”

Jared ran his hand over his mouth, “The first thing you do is get up, take a shower and brush your goddamn teeth. Then you apologize, fucking supplicate yourself, to your new wife..unless you’ve already decided to put her aside.”

Jensen's head snapped up unbelieving that his friend, the man who was his brother in every way except blood, could think that of him.

“You really believe I could do that?”

Jared smiled, “No, you're too good of a man, an Alpha, to do that. I want you to remember one thing, in all this, she’s not the one who screwed you over.”

***

Jensen stepped out the shower forgoing shaving since the show was on a short break. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at this haggard expression and developing beer gut. I’ve got to get back on my exercise routine. Makeup and wardrobe could only mask so much.

Reaching for his bath kit he knocked a hand towel off the counter. Bending over to retrieve it he noticed a shoe with netting in the wastebasket. Pulling it out he saw a brown smear inside one of the heels, remembering how much trouble she had with them last night and made a mental note to inquire about her feet.

Washing his hands and searching through his kit realizing he’d forgotten his toothbrush. Opening on the cabinets he located the complementary ones. As he’s brushing Jensen sees another brush sitting in a glass by the other sink with a neatly folded hand towel and hanging washcloth.

Huh, she must have forgotten hers too.

Tossing his kit bag in the suitcase he dressed in a pair of well worn jeans and a T-shirt. Quietly entering the common area the curtains set open just enough for him to see her curled up on the couch, still in her wedding dress, asleep. He walked over to check on her when a knock at the door made her bolt upright.

“It's room service, I asked them to text so not to wake you.” He answered the door and had a brief word with the waiter who apologized, the ticket didn’t say not to knock. They deposited a coffee decanter, several covered dishes, bottles of water and left taking the cart with them.

Jensen sat down and before he could ask how she took her coffee, his wife scrambled off the couch and was kneeling at his feet, head bowed and hands folded in her lap.

“What are you doing?” He asked incredulously, having never seen anyone do this before.

“Awaiting you instructions Alpha.”

“Instruc...get up!” He gripped her upper arm, shocked at how far his fingers wrapped around it and helped her to the other chair. Sitting back down Jensen got his first look at his new wife.

Sleep tousled, dark blonde hair frame cheekbones overly prominent for the shape of her face, wide set eyes a blue-grey color with amber rings around the pupils. Her lips were full, the bottom lip slightly off center. She was not the Hollywood standard of beauty he was used to, and if compared to them, she’d only be considered moderately pretty.

“I was only doing what is expected…”

“Kneeling at my feet like an obedient dog!” He barked as she said, “..of the Omega.”

“What’s expected?”

“In the book..”

“Please look at me when speaking.” She raises her eyes but doesn’t meet his, “..it states that the Omega is subservient and the act of humbling ourselves shows respect for the Alpha, as is their due.’

Jensen sat back shocked, running both of his hands through his still damp hair, making it stand up to resemble a hedgehog. He was in over his head and, for one of the few times in his life, didn’t know what to do and the first person he would have turned to for advice had banned all communication.

He took a deep breath to refocus and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs to look her in the eye, “I need you to forget what I said last night. I..I’m angry, feels like I..we..were ambushed by this situation. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, I’m sincerely sorry.”

“I don’t understand, are you apologizing to me?”

“It’s what people do when they’ve done something wrong and what I did was unforgivable. I want to make it up to you if you’ll let me and hopefully we can make a go of this.”

She looked at him dubiously but nodded once.

***

Jensen finished the last dregs of his coffee while packing, having decided to head back to Austin tonight. Clif had texted him he was ready whenever they were.

Sitting down on the bed he listened to the running shower and reaching his phone picked it up to start recording a video message.

He apologized for his atrocious behavior the last two years, asking the fans not to take it out on the show, this was all on him. To his coworkers for having to cover for him, they should have never been put in that position and if he had better character they wouldn’t have had too.

He next apologized to his family for his inexcusable behavior last night, which should have stayed private within their clan, and fully accepted his banishment by the clan leader, his father, for however long he deemed fit.

He lastly apologized to his new wife, they were irrecoverably tied together and he’d do whatever she demanded from him to make up for the horrendous treatment he’d shown her and hoped she’d give him a chance to make a go of their marriage.

He uploaded the video to his few online accounts and turned the phone off, wearily running a hand over his face. Getting up to take one last look he found his jacket from the wedding hanging in the closet.

Folding it he hears a crinkling noise and reaches into the inner pocket finding the marriage certificate. Tossing the jacket on the bed he unrolls the certificate reading his wife’s name Iseult.

“It’s pronounced Ee-sult Alpha.”

Jensen's head jerked up in surprise, “Hey, um, we're heading out as soon as you're ready.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll need you to button my dress Alpha.” She said repacking his bath kit she'd borrowed.

Jensen furrowed his brow, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in something else, I mean, I’m telling you what to wear but it’s a three hour drive to my..our home.”

Iseult looked down playing with one of the pearlescent buttons, “When I married my hus..ex husband, our prenup stated that I only got what I had in my possession at the time. Apparently, he disposed of my things at some point,” she fanned out the shirt, “this dress, shoes and veil, your mother purchased them otherwise the media would have had a lot more to exploit at my..our expense Alpha.”

“Let me give you something of mine.”

“Anything of yours will swallow me, you're much more solid. There is a Walmart on..” she abruptly stopped at Jensen's raised eyebrow, “I’m sorry Alpha, I overstepped my place.” She bowed her head and hunched her shoulders, exuding the scent of fear as if she is expecting punishment from him.

What had happened to this woman to make her believe she should cower and gravel? Jensen manages to keep his anger in check, not wanting her to be more scared of him than she was, thinking who the hell is her ex-husband and what had he done to make her like this?

Jensen slowly walked behind her and gripping the fabric was once again dismayed at how prominent her shoulder blades were, his gut telling him her slenderness wasn't something natural.

As he fastened the buttons he spoke in the gentle voice he used when Jared's daughter Odette was upset, “If you can survive till tomorrow I’ll take you to get whatever you need.” She nodded once.

“Can I make one request Alpha?”

“You don’t have to request anything, just ask.”

“I have a prescription I need refilled, there’s a pharmacy on Wilmont, it’s on the way.”

He plucked the jacket off the bed and held it open, “Please, it's getting chilly.” She slid her arms into the sleeves and Jensen saw she was right about being swallowed. He put on his ball cap and headed out.

When they got off the elevators Jensen went deeper into the hotel. He stopped at an employees only entrance off the kitchen and knocked twice. A double knock answered and he pushed it open to reveal a waiting SUV. He introduced Clif and handed him the bag, taking it to the vehicle's rear and loaded it before getting back in.

The wind had started picking up ahead of the late autumn thunderstorm. Iseult grabbed her whipping hair in one hand and her skirt in the other as Jensen opened the back door.

“Iseult?”

“I was waiting for you Alpha, its proper etiquette.”

“I was raised it’s proper for a lady to enter first, please,” he held his hand out to her.

Iseult released her hair and hesitantly took his hand. Jensen felt a skittering sensation go up his spin as Iseult quivered, staring into his eyes as a whirling wind intermingled their scents, enthralling them.

Clif politely coughed, “We need to go before the bottom falls out.”

A tremendous thunderclap sent them scrambling into the car as the heavens let loose.

***

The trip to Austin was darker than usual, the weather slowing the drive back and with the incident at the pharmacy, Jensen still couldn’t believe it, refusing the prescription now that she was married to an Alpha, needing his verbal consent.

Clif interceded before he went off about the subjugation of Omegas in modern society, reminding him they were in predominantly conservative Texas, where this thinking was considered normal, not California.

Jensen glanced over to see Iseult staring out the window when his phone vibrated. Picking it up from the cup holder he saw a text from Josh.

>Jenny, know I’m not supposed to be in touch but call me!!! Need to know the shit going down here.<

Josh picked up on the first ring, “Man, all hell breaking loose. Your wife's ex didn't notify his clan that he was divorcing or remarrying her and they’ve filed an appeal with the Pack council to get her back.”

“We were married in the Traditional...”

“The fuck Jenny, did living in La La land make you forget everything? Your the second son of a clan leader, you know Pack law supersedes all federal, state and religious laws. They’ve dug up some obscure sub-clause that states a clan has first right to remarry an Omega within the clan and if they don’t whoever takes them must pay settlements.”

“What are settlements?”

“Has your brain fallen out of your ass? The bride price.”

“Josh, that's insane, it's 2020....”

“No shit Sherlock, but this is Texas. Fuck, dads back already. I’m gonna leave my phone on, keep your goddamn mouth shut or it's gonna be my ass too!”

Jensen can’t make out anything then his mother clearly says, “..they are asking what for her?”

“Ten million.”

“Your shitting me!”

“Joshua, language young man.”

“Five of it’s compensation for damages done to the Omega.”

“What damages? Jenny’s got a temper, what Alpha doesn’t, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was forced to.”

Alan cleared his throat in the manner Jensen had come to know that something’s making him uncomfortable. “It seems the Omega was..unsullied when she married her ex-husband.”

“Holy shit! You mean she’s never been with an Alpha before Jensen?”

“Joshua, I will not tolerate that language and we will absolutely not discuss your brothers new wife’s...virtue.”

Jensen hears the tinkling of glass, “Donna, did you know about any of this?”

“Well..no, of course not.” Her answer wasn’t very convincing.

“Donna, what are you not saying?” Alan’s Alpha voice resonated, he only used it when his mate was being evasive about something she’d done.

“When Danneel wasn’t willing to reproduce for Jensen I put out some feelers about finding him an Omega…”

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Even if it is acceptable for Jensen to have a second wife with Danneel being a Beta, he would never agree to it.”

“I’m not telling you again about your language. I might have, at one of my appointments, casually indicated to Brent that I wanted an Omega like his.”

Who the hell is this Brent?

“Wait, Brent Worthington?!”

Jensen dropped his phone. It smacked against his other hand turning on the speaker allowing everyone in the car to hear.

“Donna, have you any idea what you’ve done?”

“I never thought he'd actually offer her, they always seemed so happy together.”

“He took your casual indication as an actual offer for his wife. You do understand that while we have to deal with each other they are still our rivals.”

The Ackles and Worthingtons were two of the original founding clans of the Dallas Pack, and rivals for centuries. Iseult had been married to the only Beta son of Abraham, the Clans Alpha, like Alan.

Josh’s voice shook as he spoke, “Mom, if the council decides to return her do you have any idea what they’ll do if Jensen’s already mated and claimed her?”

There’s a ringing phone and Alan answered, his voice loud then faint, apparently pacing around the room.

In the SUV dim interior Jensen could see Iseult shaking, awaiting the decision.

“The council sided with the Worthington's stating the law…”

Jensen’s inner Alpha raged, loosening a wrawl causing Clif to jerk the wheel, swerving across the wet lanes, throwing Jensen against the seat in front of him, landing on the floorboard before the vehicle was under control and stopped on the shoulder. Twisting around he sees Clif opening the back door checking on Iseult while Alan’s voice filled the otherwise silent SUV.

“...but taking into consideration today’s social climate they came back with the final decision since she remarried another clan leader's son her status is unchanged, so if we send her back there’s no penalty for damages. If we choose to keep her, it’s five million due to the Omegas age.”

“What did you tell them dad?”

“I told them we were keeping her, I won’t be the cause of anymore upheaval in my son's life. However,” Alan’s voice turned hard, “the council has ordered additional financial penalties set against both clan leaders for the transgressions committed by their families.”

“How much?”

“I paid twenty-five million for a Deuxième Omega.”

tbc

SPN: @donnaintx

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#alpha!jensen ackles x omega!ofc #alpha!jensen ackles #omega!ofc #alpha!jared padalecki #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #angst #alpha!jensen x omega

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chilling-seavey · 4 years ago

Text

Qui Totum Vult Totum Perdit (d.s.) - 5

A/N Now the long chapters are really starting

Warnings: This story is centered around a murder so there will be graphic descriptions of blood, death/manslaughter, dealing with corpses, possible domestic abuse (physical/verbal), crime/covering up a crime, shock/grief, and other possibly heavy or triggering topics. Please read at your own discretion.

Avalon’s purse was left on the kitchen island right by the door. It was on its side as if it had been thrown there in some sort of haste when she came inside. I picked it up and ruffled through the small bag; pushing aside the tube of lipstick, small medicine bottle, few feminine hygiene products, and her wallet before accessing her phone.

Her lockscreen was a photo of me, taken on our honeymoon some time by the resort pool. If I didn’t feel the breath of shame and guilt on my neck, that certainly sealed it in. I typed in her passcode but was met with ‘incorrect pin’. I tried again, only to receive the same message. Since when did she change her passcode and not tell me?

We must ignore the fact that I changed mine a few weeks back without telling her as well.

The last thing I wanted to have to do was facial recognition, but it seemed that was my only option.

So I found myself back in the studio, patting softly over the blood soaked rug to the body of my wife to stick her iPhone in her face. Jonah watched from the doorway as I crouched down carefully on the balls of my feet and held the screen towards Avalon’s blank expression. The phone unlocked and the home screen appeared. I didn’t look at her for too long – honestly I couldn’t without risking being sent to empty my stomach again – and I simply took her phone over to the studio couch and sat down on the arm. Jonah stood beside me to watch over my shoulder as I opened up her contacts app and scrolled down to J.

You can imagine my surprise when the very first contact under that letter was simply the letter itself. It was too easy. I brought up any messages she had with that person and scrolled to the top of the reasonably short text thread. They had messaged her first,

Hey. Thanks for reaching out. I’ll have the stuff together for the end of the week as promised.

Great! Looking forward to it.

When’s your fiancé out next? I can drop by your place if you want.

He usually works late every day so whenever is good. Lunch tomorrow maybe?

Yeah, sounds good. See you then :)

There was only one other date that they had messaged – at least by text – and it was also a short yet cryptic conversation.

If you’re ready today I can come by. Daniel’s held up in meetings so I’m alone.

Yeah that’s fine. I’m at the Lincoln Motel in Pasadena. Room 19. Come by whenever.

1559 Lincoln Ave

Okay! I’ll head over now. I’m excited! :)

The green monster was never a kind friend, dear reader, and I couldn’t help but feel near sick again with the question as to if my wife had been cheating on me. Sure, I was no perfect man and I seemed to put a lot of my efforts into my work – maybe more than I should have – but never would I have dreamt about being unfaithful to her. Seemed as though she had thought differently. I locked Avalon’s phone and slid it in my pocket as I stood up, trying to act like it was something that just rolled off my back.

“What the fuck.” Jonah breathed.

I pushed a hand through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck tensely, ignoring his rhetorical question.

“You okay?” Jonah asked, setting his hand on my shoulder.

“Fine.” I nodded stiffly.

“Do you want to stop by the motel?”

I contemplated his offer for a moment. It was on the way out of state anyway and it would have been nice to get some answers. Maybe it would even help me figure out what happened to Avalon. This mysterious J person wasn’t necessarily in my good books at the moment.

“Yeah. We should.” I finally answered.

The first step before we could leave was to clean up the brutal scene that I had found myself amidst just in case anyone was to come past while we were gone. Our safest bet was to keep Avalon with us until we figured out what had happened; this was imperative especially if it came to the possible outcome where I had killed her. I grabbed an extra towel from under the sink in the studio and Jonah and I stood beside the body.

“Jesus Christ.” Jonah breathed as we stared at her.

I held the towel out to him, “You tuck this under her. I’ll lift her up.”

He nodded silently and watched as I stepped over my wife who was still laying out over the ruined rug. With one foot on either side of her, I bent down and slid my hands under her armpits and just around her back. She was terribly cold and I could feel it through the shirt she was still wearing. Ironic choice of words, but it was chilling.

Jonah slid the towel underneath her and the strain of me holding her limp body up caused more blood to trickle out of the gash across her neck and I looked away to keep from seeing any more. Waking up in it was enough. We moved down her body and I held up her hips so Jonah could tug the towel completely underneath her.

“Let’s move her to the hardwood.” I instructed flatly and we each took two corners of the towel to hoist her up off the blood-soaked rug.

Jonah and I shuffled across the studio and gently set her down on the hardwood in front of the front door to keep her off the rug. The knife still rested on the carpet, glinting teasingly in the late morning sun and I finally worked up the nerve to bend down and pick it up.

“I’ll leave you alone when you get it through your head what a psychotic bitch you’re being!”

“I’m psychotic?” she shrieked, whipping around to face me once we both entered the studio and I flicked on the light. The large collection of wedding gifts was piled neatly along the kitchenette counter and on the couch, the rest of the small single room building taken up by all of my music equipment. Avalon got right up in my face, pointing her finger at me behind furious brown eyes, and screaming until the minimal soundproofing almost muffled the edges of her voice, “Look at yourself! Screaming at me for simply missing my husband on our honeymoon! You’re so fucking psychotic it’s nearly goddamn comedic!”

“I’m not going to keep having this same argument with you, Avalon! I’m getting so sick of needing to defend myself against you time and time again! You just don’t respect me or my job!”

“Who even are you?” she scoffed humourlessly, “It’s nothing about respect, it’s about you being a decent human being – a decent husband – and actually showing me that you care about me!”

“Avalon, I swear to God if you don’t-”

“If I don’t what? Shut up? Be a good little wife and shut up and look pretty for you? Big important business tycoon Daniel Seavey is going to…do what exactly?”

With the knife in my hand, my eyes drifted to the stack of wedding gifts on the studio couch, the thin polished wooden box on the top capturing my attention. The lid was left open, revealing the velvet trimmed interior and the rest of the silver knives resting in a row inside. It was a wedding gift from my brother, the high-end knife set purchased and engraved with our surname on each dark wooden handle until they looked no less than ridiculously expensive and classy. The one empty slot in the velvet box had its assigned subject resting in my hand, the largest knife from the box weighing down in my fingers.

How strange and ironic it is; Avalon killed by a knife wielding her own surname. The surname only given to her a mere three weeks earlier. I had no time to stew on that, however, as I was sure that the fact she wasn’t at work that morning (and that neither was I) would start to raise suspicions. We had to get out of there before someone came looking for us.

I took the knife to the sink in the kitchenette along the far wall of the studio and turned on the hot water to rinse the blood off the blade. I found myself trembling slightly as I scrubbed, my hands struggling to keep still even under the warmth of the water. The red stained the water and flooded around the base of the stainless-steel sink as the drain pulled it down and soon my hands and the knife were left clean and spotless.

Jonah had the rug rolled up from the floor by the time I finished cleaning the knife and I thanked him quietly as I set the chef’s knife back in its slot in the wooden box. The handles stared back at me, twelve identical silver engravings of my surname staring back at me as if they knew what I had possibly done. I closed the lid and snapped the silver clasps shut.

“What do we do with the rug?” I asked my best friend.

Jonah exhaled deeply and brushed the back of his hand over his forehead. He thought for a minute before replying, “Bring it with us?”

I nodded in agreement, “Okay. I’ll grab my keys.”

I headed back into the main house quickly to grab my keys and anything else I might want to bring with me. My laptop case was an obvious and I tucked Avalon’s letter in my bag too just in case I might need it again while figuring everything out.

I was ready for a quick getaway but of course that would have been too easy. Another thing that drove my wife insane? The fact that I constantly was losing everything. My keys were usually the victim of my carelessness and this moment was obviously no exception. I couldn’t find them anywhere, along the front console table or in my laptop bag or on the kitchen counter.

Jonah stepped inside the back door again, “Are you coming?”

“Yeah.” I rushed back down the hallway to the master bedroom, scanning the side tables and the front pocket of our packed suitcase hurriedly.

Time wasn’t on our side and my tendency to misplace everything I own certainly wasn’t helping. On my way back down the hallway, I caught myself on the doorway to the walk-in-closet when I saw a glint out of the corner of my eye and stepped back to see my keys peeking out of my jean’s pocket. You would think I would have checked their first. Well, sorry to break it to you, but nothing was going as expected that morning.

I grabbed my keys from my blood-stained jeans and stuffed the hoodie and pants into my laptop bag too. I stopped to grab a baseball hat and set it on my head followed by my darkest sunglasses I had in my closet to try and keep some sort of physical neutrality for going into public before meeting Jonah back on the porch. I held my keys up to him as I walked right past him and around the side of the house to the gate. He followed right behind me with the expensive box of knives in hand.

The driveway backed right onto the side gate and I unlatched it and pulled the white pickets open to let ourselves through. Ah yes, my pretty expensive Los Angeles house and my white picket fence and my dead wife. Really living the perfect American dream, huh?

I unlocked my Tesla and yanked open the back door to toss in my overflowing laptop bag and Jonah’s heavy work bag while Jonah opened the trunk and tucked the knife set in the corner. We hurried back down the driveway towards the studio door and slipped back inside, stepping over Avalon to grab the rug first. We each took an end of the heavy rolled up vintage Persian and took it down to my car. I was lucky my car had been parked in reverse in the driveway which prevented any neighbours from possibly seeing us loading the trunk with questionable items.

The last thing we needed to take care of was Avalon but we couldn’t necessarily carry her outside in a blood streaked towel. We stood over her in thought of what to do next. We needed something to keep it discreet while still being able to keep her in one piece. There was no way I would be able to stomach cutting any limbs. I had gone through enough that morning as it was.

My eyes scanned my studio for any possible solution to our situation and quickly landed on one of the large travel cases I used for my production keyboard. I looked back down at Avalon’s body and then back to the long trunk.

This was insane.

I stepped over her and walked over to the corner of the studio where the travel trunks were stacked up. I moved a few smaller ones from the top and Jonah came over to help me once he caught on to what I was doing. I flipped open the top of the trunk and made sure it was empty except for the thin plush padding that lined the interior.

I refrained from making a joke about it at least being a comfortable place for her to lay.

Jonah and I each took an end of the towel again and hoisted her stiff body up and over to the trunk and lowered her in slowly. I made sure the towel was tucked inside and that her arms and legs were resting flatly before closing the lid and buckled up the case. Jonah and I met each other’s eyes over top of the trunk but didn’t speak a word before picking up either end and made our way out of the studio.

The walk down the side of the house to the driveway felt like forever. There we were, in broad daylight, on a regular Tuesday morning, carrying a dead body into the trunk of my car. The production case fit nicely into the trunk – I knew it would from the amount of times I had to bring it into work or over to Jonah’s house – and I shut the trunk over top of it. I let out a shaky exhale and Jonah and I glanced blankly at each other.

Detective Team: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @hopinglimelight @tempus-ut-luceant @br4nd1s @xkelsev @hiya-its-amber @sexyseavey15

#🔪#daniel seavey #jonah marais #why dont we #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic

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brittababbles · 4 years ago

Text

Best Medicine

Agent Whiskey x female nurse!reader

Something deeply self-indulgent that I accidentally came up with chatting with @thick-dick-din-daddy-djarin

Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical trauma, medical situations, angst (is that a warning?), no edits to speak of, me projecting like crazy

“EMS Unit 437 calling Mercy General”

Hour nine of twelve has rather numbed you to the sound of the EMS line, but you glance up from your charting anyway to meet the eyes of your charge nurse over the desk. Lance sighs and shoves his blond-grey hair out of his eyes before reaching for the awkward walkie-talkie like unit.

“Mercy General calling EMS 437. What do you got?” Lance says into the walkie, his voice the practiced detachment of a veteran ER nurse.

“40-year-old male, apparent GSW to the right chest. BP 90 over 62, pulse 132, pulse ox 90 on f15 liters. He’s alert and oriented times 3. We got an 18 gauge in his left AC and he’s had 200 milliliters normal saline and 40 micrograms fentanyl IV push. Pretty shocky… ETA 7 minutes to your location.”

Lance pauses for a second to absorb this information, then gives a single nod before responding

“Copy, EMS 437. See you soon”

You watch your leader-of-the-day impassively, the unspoken question lingering in your gaze. Lance consults his computer screen before answering.

“Trauma 3,” he says.

It’s not your assigned trauma room, but you’re at an impasse at the moment. You have three patients, and all of them are stable and waiting – one for social work to clear his discharge, one for CT to pick her up, and one for a room to open up on the floors above you.

With a sigh, you exit from your computer screen before heading to trauma room three to check that the room is prepped for a trauma. It’s relatively mindless work, and the last nurse had done a decent job cleaning the room up. You lay out leads for cardiac monitoring and grab a blood collection kit, then check the supplies are at least roughly in order. Seven minutes isn’t a long time to get ready, but you’ve given the room a once over by the time the ambulance bay doors burst open.

There’s a flurry of activities and voices as the paramedics roll in their stretcher. One is calling report over top of the patient to Danielle, the nurse who’s room you’ve just stocked. Two more are ministering to the patient himself. You watch them head toward you, bracing yourself for the adrenaline rush and mentally running through everything that will need to happen in the next few minutes. You stand on tiptoe, hoping to catch a glance at the patient’s chest, to see what you’re getting into.

Everything in your brain freezes. Every synapse stops. You swear you go deaf and wobble slightly from the impact of dizzying recognition.

Oh god.

Jack.

Evidently time does not stop, but you’re unaware of the intervening seconds before the gurney carrying your husband is in front of you. Doctor Thompson pushes past you to reach the patient, shouting orders to Danielle and Lance that you can’t understand. Instead of diving into your work, you take two shaky steps backward and find yourself leaning hard against the wall.

Lance is calling your name. His expression is obviously frustrated, but immediately switches to confusion at your stricken appearance. He glances at Danielle and jerks his head toward you. His hands are covered in crimson. You’re dimly aware that it’s blood. Jack’s blood. You squeeze your eyes shut at the exact instant Danielle’s hands impact your shoulders.

“[Y/N}? What’s wrong?” she asks.

She uses her nursing voice. Firm, matter of fact, slightly higher in pitch than her normal voice. You must look terrible.

“Th-that’s my husband,” you manage to gasp.

He’s still conscious. That’s the crazy thing. There’s so much blood everywhere; on his clothes, on the sheets, on the floor. You approach him cautiously, the way you would a wild deer, and carefully touch the IV Lance had shoved into the back of Jack’s hand.

The paramedics had given him some very strong pain medication in the field, and Lance had doubled it up with IV dilaudid on Dr. Thompson’s orders. Those beautiful brown eyes are rather glassy, but wide open and so alive. He grins rather lopsidedly under the oxygen mask as you approach.

“I always knew angels were real,” he slurs.

His voice cracks as he speaks, and it’s so soft that it’s hard to hear around the sound of the monitors and the oxygen and the IV pumps. But you catch every word and manage a weak smile.

“Hi, baby,” you say. Your voice shakes, too.

He squeezes your hand in response. His grip is stronger than you expected. A good sign, you tell yourself.

Danielle hadn’t hesitated once you’d managed to choke out your confession. She shoved you straight out of the trauma room, directly into the waiting arms of the social worker, Nancy. She’d heard, or maybe just observed and put together, enough to understand your abrupt ejection from the room, and used her considerable talents to calm you down enough to speak with registration. To get Jack’s details down. His name, such that could be provided, address, date of birth. His blood type. The fact that he reacted badly to onions and bee stings. That you were his wife. You rattled off the information automatically, the majority of your mind back in the trauma room with your bleeding husband.

You’d staggered back to the door of the trauma room just as the doctor was leaving. She pulled you aside and explained what they’d found. You nodded along, grasping clinically what she was saying but utterly failing to feel any emotion at all. By the time she had finished explaining what the next few hours would look like, Danielle had hung a unit of platelets, attached to the IV in Jack’s arm. On his other side, Lance was adjusting the drip rate on a bag of fluids, the tubing on these leading to the IV in your husband’s hand. A full set of vital signs flashed from the monitor above his head, and you stared unfeelingly at these, before glancing down at your husband. He was awake, and he was staring straight at you.

Now, you stood at his bedside, brushing silky strands of dark hair from his sweat-sticky forehead.

“You have what’s called a traumatic hemothorax, Jack,” you coo.

The expression in his eyes suggests vague confusion, and you mentally steady yourself before continuing.

“It means there’s blood in the space around your lungs. It’s gonna get hard to breathe if they don’t go in and fix it, baby,” your voice shakes, and you admonish yourself.

Some nurse you are.

Jack glances around the room, seemingly asking why he was still here if he needed fixed. You twist your face into a watery smile, trying very hard not to cry.

“You lost a lot of blood,” you tell him softly, winding your fingers into his, “It’s not safe to put you under anesthesia yet. We need you to finish getting these fluids and platelets, so it’s safe to operate.”

He absorbs all of this with the unshakable calmness that only a Stateman agent could muster at a time like this. You find yourself wishing for half of his poise to get your through the next several hours.

“What about you?” he croaks unexpectedly.

You carefully lift his hand and pressed a feather-light kiss to his fingers, which feel unusually cold against your lips.

“I’m staying right here until they take you to surgery.”

He has the audacity to look surprised.

“Danielle’s taking my patients. I’ll have to get her a gift basket,” you say.

This earns you a smirk, which fades quickly when he notices the tears you’ve failed to stop from spilling down your cheeks. He lifts your entwined hands and brushes his index finger against your face, wiping the track your tears have left, and fixes you with an intense stare.

“[Y/N],” he whispers, “I’m not leaving you today, darlin’.”

Your only response is to kiss the back of his hand more firmly than more before pressing your face into his skin, squeezing your eyes shut. You stay like this for a long time, listening hard to the too-fast beep of the heart monitor overhead.

At some point in the last two hours, you’d realized hospitals are cold.

You’d managed to trot behind the transport team as the whisked your husband toward the surgery suites. He tries to look up at you, but the angle was too extreme for his neck to manage under the circumstances. Jack raised a hand rather weakly to wave as you reached the edge of your access to the department, and you watched him disappear from your sight.

There were three people in the surgical waiting area, a middle-aged couple and an older lady, and all of them stood up when you walked in. It took you a moment to realize that they were reacting to your scrubs, not realizing you didn’t work on this floor.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to say, “I’m not a surgical nurse.”

You’d sat down, abruptly exhausted, in one of the thinly padded chairs, working hard to ignore the sound of the national news from the TV in the corner. The middle aged woman broke away from her partner and sidled over to you.

“Are you a nurse?” she asks

“Yes,” you said dully, “but I don’t work on this floor.”

That didn’t seem to mean much to the woman. She leaned toward you slightly, her eyes wide and somewhat bloodshot.

“My daughter’s in surgery. The doctor said something about a brain hemorrhage. Do you know about that?”

Sure, you know about brain hemorrhages; if only you could access the parts of your brain that knows things. Normally you would recognize the obvious pain in this woman’s voice, but right now the only emotion you feel capable of producing is exhaustion. You turned to the woman, blinking slowly. She watched, her expression expectant and a little bit desperate.

“I’m sorry,” your words came out sounding like a question, “I don’t know anything about that.”

She stared at you, her face utterly blank, for a moment, before getting up and returning to her husband’s side. You return your own stare to the carpet and utterly lose track of time.

At some point, the room becomes to small and you get to your feet and walk out into the hallway. Nobody tries to stop you. You round a corner and lean against the wall, feeling your knees starting to slowly give out. You slide gracelessly down the wall and curl yourself into a ball. The wall opposite you is very white. You stare at it endlessly.

“Mrs. Daniels?”

You have no idea how much time has passed while you sat on the floor. A sturdy looking middle aged man in green scrubs is standing over you. He offers you a hand and pulls you upright, before introducing himself as Jack’s surgeon.

“You’re a nurse downstairs, right?” he asks.

You nod, trying to remember what that even means.

He explains to you that Jack’s surgery went well. The damage was repairable. He’s in recovery now and will probably spend a couple days in the ICU before transferring to a nursing unit. He’s not out of the woods quite yet, but the surgeon seems optimistic.

“Your husband’s a strong man,” he tells you.

If he only knew the half of it.

Jack’s awake, if mostly incoherent, when you reach his bedside in the ICU.

“S’my angel girl,” he tells the nurse as she hooks him up to the monitor.

She glances at you and smiles.

To say your husband is an affectionate drunk is an understatement. He repeatedly tells you how pretty you are, how lucky he is. He even makes a couple lewd comments that normally would have you blushing, but at this point you’re too happy that he’s alive to feel anything but gratitude at the sound of his voice. He coos at you, reaching out to stroke your messy hair clumsily. You lean lightly into his touch.

You spend the next two days holding vigil at his bedside, watching the vitals monitor and gently questioning the nurses. Once Jack’s out from the influence of the anesthesia, he begins to get restless.

“I’m not in pain if you’re here, beautiful,” he insists, the afternoon following his surgery.

The nurse is standing by, vial of pain medication in hand, and she glances at you for confirmation. You, in turn, look to the monitor.

Blood pressure: 155 over 97. Pulse: 102.

You look at your husband, eyes widening.

“Yes, you are, Jack,” you say softly, “They cut your chest open. You almost died. You’re allowed to be in pain.”

He stares back stubbornly.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, brushing your fingers across his cheek, “Don’t be brave for me.”

He remains unreadable for a beat, then glances at the nurse and gives a curt nod.

The floor nurses adore Jack.

Of course they do. He’s charming, sweet, considerate, and insists on doing virtually everything for himself. He doesn’t beg for medications during busy times, and rapidly memorizes the nursing rotation to avoid being what he terms “a pest” at shift change. His only complaint is that the bed isn’t big enough to share with you, that his IV lines prevent him from holding you close. He smiles brightly at everyone who walks into the room and introduces you to every new face as “my lovely wife, best nurse in this here hospital”. The head of pulmonology visits early on Jack’s fourth day in the hospital and seems surprised by your credentials.

“You work here?” he asks

“ER,” you respond sleepily.

“Well, at least he’ll be in good hands when he goes home,” he doctor says.

Jack visibly brightens at the word “home”.

“Am I going home today, doc?” he asks eagerly.

“Not today, son,” the old doctor says with a sigh, “maybe tomorrow.”

Jack’s shoulders slump slightly, and he tries not to pout too obviously.

When the day finally arrives, you wait patiently in your chair as Jack paces the room. He’s doing remarkably well for a man who’d nearly died less than a week ago. Well enough for his team of doctors and therapists to sign off on his discharge. Unfortunately, Jack is less realistic about the speed of the discharge process than you are, and vents some of his frustrations by energetically pacing the floor.

“Don’t tire yourself out, baby,” you murmur.

You insist on removing his IVs yourself. Jack watches with fascination bordering on morbidity as you carefully slip the slender catheter from his arm and press a square of gauze to the bubble of blood that blossoms from the site. His eyes gleam with something like pride as he looks up and watches you cross the room to dispose of the used IV in the sharps container.

“You’re amazing,” he says, cupping the back of your head with his now-free hand and pulling you in to kiss you.

His nurse tries to usher him into a wheelchair, and as expected, Jack refuses wholeheartedly. He walks the length of the hall and reaches the main nursing station before his knees wobble and he leans against the counter. Panicked, you grasp at his side. He gives you a small smile.

“Maybe I will take the chariot,” he says.

Once the nurse has Jack loaded into the car, she turns to you with a smile.

“I’m glad he’s in good hands,” she says.

You can only nod, hoping she’s right.

Jack watches the trees pass as you drive home. He’s unusually quiet, seemingly lost in thought. You focus on the road and try to squash any lingering self-doubts. Abruptly your feel his hand rest on yours over the gearshift. His skin is warm again. You glance his way to see him watching you, his expression thoughtful.

“I’m not worried, baby girl,” he says.

“Hmm?” you feign innocence.

Jack always knows when you’re worried. It’s almost a sixth sense. He can pick up the tension in your shoulders and the concern in your brow at half a glance and ten paces. You wish you were half as perceptive, but you’d settle for half as brave.

The car eases to a stop at a red light and you turn to look at him fully. He’s smiling warmly, his eyes bright with life and love and you feel like your heart might explode just looking at him.

“You’ll take care of me,” he says softly.

You smile, lean in, and press your lips softly to his.

“Always,” you promise.

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #jack daniels #pedro pascal #Britta writes #Britta may be using Jack to work out her work trauma?#best medicine

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thefreakydeaky · 4 years ago

Text

Call Out My Name

Part Six Title: A Lonely Night

Characters: Negan, Reader, The Saviors,The Wives

Summary: You belonged to him.Try as you might to pretend indifference, Negan’s very presence has awakened feelings in you that you believed had died with the old world.Is the ruthless King of the Sanctuary still human enough to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, Canon Typical Negan BS, Diet Dr.Angst

Word Count: 2,145

“Can I trust you, Y/n?” He asked as you lay together after.

“Yes, you can.”

“I don’t know how to say it...”

Your eyebrows rose.

“You? At a loss for words? I don’t believe it.”

Negan chuckled dryly.

“I don’t know how to say it nicely.”He amended, his tongue poked out to wet his lip as he tried to find the right words.

“Do you remember what I said to you about my position as a leader?”

You shook your head ‘no’.

“It’s precarious.I work damn hard to make sure my people are taken care of and to make sure that everyone knows not to fuck with me.As I’m sure you have realized, I like to be on top.”

“Mhmm..”

“Sometimes that means I have to bash in a few heads. Sometimes it means I have to take a new wife, but I’d say I have everything I could want within reason. Wouldn’t you?”

You nodded in agreement.

“So imagine my surprise, when I go out to do some head bashing and find that despite all i have there is one thing I not only want, but need...You.” His expression softened as he gazed into your eyes. “The moment I saw you, I recognized you as my other self. That’s why I did it. That’s why I called you my wife without asking.We were made for each other. I can’t explain how I know, I just know, Y/n.”

You blinked back tears, overwhelmed by the unmistakeable ring of truth his confession held. You looked back up to find him watching your face wearily.

“How can I be sure you won’t think how I feel about you is a weakness?”

You laced your fingers with his.

“You aren’t weak.Neither am I.We have both put survival above everything else.”

He winced.

“Hell, that isn’t reassuring in the least.”

You smiled apologetically.

“What I’m getting at is, if you’re open to it, we could try putting each other first and survival second.You know, the way relationships were pre-walker?”

“And what would you know about that, hmm?”

“I was in a relationship back when.”

“What, some high school sweetheart bullshit?” He sighed, incredulity in his voice.

“No.” You turned onto your belly. “I was in a serious relationship with an older man.”

“Were you now?”

“I was.”

“What was he like?” Negan pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Do you really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You smirked at the envy in his eyes.

“He was...fifteen or so years older than me.”

“Mhmm.”

You carded your fingers through Negan’s hair.

“He had pretty blue eyes and a very nice smile.”

“What did he do?”

“He was a policeman.”

“A cop? You were dating a cop?” His brow furrowed.

“Is that surprising?” You grinned.

“It is.” He grumbled. “Did you love ‘um.”

“It was complicated, but I did love him. Then we broke up, the world changed for the worse,and I had bigger things to worry about than him.”

Negan mulled on that for a moment.

"I ever tell you I was married before the world went to shit?"

Try as he might to hide behind a veneer of nonchalance, you sensed some dark emotions beneath the act.

"Not very successfully, but she meant a great deal to me."

You nodded.

"I was shit at showing it, but I'm sure you know a thing or two about that."He grimaced.

Negan looked into your eyes. In the depths of his gaze you could see a sorrow so intense, it made your heart ache with compassion.

“Do you think we could make it if we tried?” He asked too casually.

“Yes, I reckon we could.” You kissed the back of his hand.

You felt so filled with warmth you could burst.

Negan kissed the corner of your mouth lovingly.

“You have my whole heart, Y/n.”

He took you into his arms.

"Until my last breath."

Feeling safer than you had in years, you snuggled into his embrace and reveled in the wonder of being loved.

Staring out of the window did nothing to improve his mood.Lighting flashed in a black as midnight sky at eleven o'clock in the morning.

"What's the plan?"Negan asked the room at large, taking a seat at the head of the table.

His lieutenants sat in a make shift conference room, looking worse for the wear from the battle with Alexandria.

Dwight tapped the back end of a switch blade on the table, seemingly deep in thought.Regina sat arms crossed over her chest glaring at Dwight's hands.The minutes ticked by quietly. Negan's already strained patience was growing thin.Gavin tilted his chair back and sighed.

“There's nothing left for us to do, 'cept kill them all."Simon concluded.

“Dwight?" Negan posed wearily.

"We don't need to kill all them people to get them in line.We just have to kill the right ones."

Negan narrowed his eyes at him.

"The right people, meaning who? Rick Grimes?"

“Grimes, The Widow, and The Ki- “ Dwight grimaced. “Ezekiel.” He amended apologetically.

“Hmm..." Their leader scratched at his chin, in contemplation.

"We'll put 'em on a platform, make it bloody, make sure they all see it happen." Dwight's gruff voice provided.

"I like the way you think, Dwight." Negan responded at last."Si, how long you need to get this set up?"

A blood thirsty grin broke out on Simon's face.

"We'll be ready by morning." He replied.

To the Saviors Simon directed a gung-ho,“Let's go to work."

Mean while, back at the doll house, boredom and gloom drove the wives to the parlor.

"We could play a game?"Tanya suggested.

Amber emitted a petulant huff in response and continued flipping through a beat up issue of Vogue

"We can play a drinking game."Sherri suggested.

“A drinking game?"You repeated uncertainly.

"We are all adults here, we're stuck 'till Negan says otherwise."Tanya pointed out.

"We might as well."Amber intoned, tossing her magazine aside.

You glanced uncertainly at Sherri.For a moment you considered declining, but much to their surprise, you agreed.

"Okay, What are we playing?"

Frankie sat up in her chair, with sudden interest.

“Never have I ever!”Sherri and Tanya said in unison.

You swallowed in an attempt to soothe your suddenly dry throat.This was a disaster waiting to happen.

Amber took it upon herself to serve each person in the room a generous shot of vodka.

“The way it works is, we take turns asking a question.Well sort of a question sort a not.”Sherri hedged.

“If it’s my turn I’d say something like, Never have I ever...smoked a joint.”

“Bullshit.”Frankie laughed.

“If you have smoked a joint you do a shot.If you haven't, you don’t.It’s fun.Trust me.” Sherri’s enthusiastic grin was a little scary.

You had never seen her smile before today.You eyed her skeptically, but didn’t back out.

“Why don’t we go from youngest to oldest?”You suggested.

Amber went around the room handing out the generous glasses she had poured to each of you.

“Go on then.”Sherri encouraged Frankie.

“Alright, never have I ever...given a blowjob.”

“Ha! That’s a cheat! We all know He loves getting head.”Tanya chuckled.

“Is not!”

You all took a shot.

Amber went around the room refilling the glasses.

As the game went on, you slowly began to relax.The questions were invasive at times, but no one had caused any trouble so far.

“Never have I ever”Tanya began, “been tied up during sex.”

“Ugh Tanya!”Amber exclaimed in disgust.

Sherri’s eyes were fixed on you.

She is so damn nosey. You frowned, but you were a good sport and drank just the same. To your surprise, so did Frankie.

You shared a knowing look then burst out laughing.Sherri was not amused.

“Never have I ever been to Texas?”Amber tried.

You shook your head.

“Never have I ever kissed another girl.”You threw out eyeing each of them in turn.

Frankie, Tanya, and You all took another shot.

“Really, Y/n?”Amber’s eyes went wide with curiosity.

“Oh, come on don’t act so shocked.It’s the freakin" apocalypse.”Frankie scoffed.

“Alright alright, never have I ever been eaten out by Negan.” Sherri said smoothly.

You cringed at the obvious ploy.

Tanya,Sherri, and Frankie each took a shot.

You could feel them all scrutinizing you.You and Amber were the odd ones out. You refused to rise to the bait.What happened between you and Negan was none of their business.

“Amber” Sherri prompted when she remained quiet for too long.

“Oh, uh, yes. Never have I ever..” She wracked her brain trying to come up with something, but came up empty. “Never have I ever had a three some??”

“Booooo!” a sloppy drunk Frankie complained.”We already asked that one.”

“Right right...”

“How about never have I eveeer, had a sexual fantasy about a Savior.” Frankie suggested.

Tanya blushed fiercely and took the shot.

The look on Amber’s face was bleak.

“Never have I ever been to Canada.”Sherri said quickly changing the subject.

No one drank.You felt bad for Amber.You had forgotten that some of these girls used to be in relationships with the men that were now Saviors.

Tanya smirked at you.

“Never have I ever, had sex with Negan in the middle of the day.”She said much too chipper for your liking.

“Just Negan?”

“Yes.”

You knew what she meant to find out, but you refused to go there with her. You didn’t take the shot.

Her brown eyes blazed into yours.She and Sherri drank simultaneously.

“Never have I ever lied to my husband.”You deadpanned to remind them that you were in this together.

Every one of them drank.

“Never have I ever had a sex related injury.”

Sherri stared at Tanya when she didn't drink.

“Taanyaa”

“Sherriii” Tanya mocked good naturedly.

“You have.”She insisted.

Tanya winced and took the shot. Embarrassed and hoping no one would ask the million dollar question.

“Okay, but how??”Frankie asked.

Tanya covered her blushing face in her hands.

“Damn it Sherri.”

“She was with Simon on a free pass day.”

Frankie rolled her eyes.”You know how that goes”

Sherri raised an eyebrow. “Not all of us do.”

"He gets a little...gymnastic." Tanya admitted, blushing.

“Never have I ever wanted to fuck Simon.” Amber singsonged.

“It’s not even your turn!” Tanya winced and took the shot.

You were feeling so warm and buzzing hard.You unthinkingly took the shot along with Tanya and Frankie.

“Simon?” Sherri’s voice was filled with judgement.

“Surprised?”

“Not even a little.” She sniffed.

“Anyone ever tell you, you’re awful judgmental for a woman in a polygamist marriage?” You snarked.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.You act pretty high and mighty for someone who sucks the same cock the rest of us do.”

“I’m not like you.” She hissed venomously.”I didn’t fucking choose this!”

“And you think I did?”Amber stood, swaying drunkly.

“Not you.” Sherri’s voice lost it’s venom. “But the rest of you did.”

“You’re so wrong for thinkin’ that and even worse for sayin’ it!” Tanya’s eyes filled with tears.

“Sherri, You’ve been talking down to me ever since I got here.” You spoke louder than you intended to.

“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not the one with the problem.”

“You sure as shit act like it.”

You threw your glass in her general direction. It pelted her in the shoulder and rolled onto the floor.

“Bitch if you’re feelin’ froggy go ahead and fuckin’ jump.”

The double doors burst wide open.

“What in the hell is going on in here?” Negan thundered looking around the room with an irritated scowl.

No one moved.Sherri’s fury was still apparent in her expression.You wondered how long he’d been listening.

“Explain.Now.” He demanded picking on Tanya who hadn’t said a thing.

“W-well...We were drinking and playing some stupid game. About sex.”Her eyes darted between you and Sherri.

“A sex game?” Negan repeated, disbelief in his tone.

“Yupp. Not a one of us’s been to Canada and Y/n kissed a girl, Now Sherri thinks we’re all a buncha sluts.” Amber hiccuped.

Negan took a steadying breath and stared down each of you in turn.

“Well I’ll be damned." He scrutinized Amber's slight swaying figure and shook his head. "Sweetheart, you are trashed!I’m cuttin’ you off.”

Negan took the bottle of vodka from her. From the look on her face, she had forgotten she was holding it.

“I’ll get you some water.” Frankie nodded decisively and tried to shake off her buzz.

She swayed a little on her way to the sink.

“So what I’m gettin’ here is, you all got wasted and started swapping stories about sex with me?”

You didn’t know what to say.You were, despite Sherri being an asshat, feeling pretty good right about now.

“You are around each other all day every freakin’ day and the subject has never come up before?” He asked with feigned interest.”I don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

Finally got a taste of his own medicine.

You snickered.

“What’s so funny over there,Y/n?”

Uh-oh no pet names.Daddy is maaad.

The ridiculous thought made you chuckle and soon you were emitting peels of laughter so infectious that Tanya started laughing too.

“You cut that shit out!It is not fucking funny.” He shifted his weight, brought lucille onto his shoulder, then licked his lips. “I don’t like drama.”

Sherri rolled her eyes.

“Coulda fooled me.” Amber jibed under her breath.

You mashed your lips together to hold back your smile.

“What did you just say?”

Amber shook her head.

You batted your lashes at him.

His nostrils flared like he could smell the insubordination.

“Wow I am havin’ a damn hard time rememberin’ why I thought keeping so many women around was a good idea.”

“Cause you expected a nonstop orgy?” You suggested. “Ya reap what ya sew, Babe.”

“What the ever loving fuck?” A pained look crossed his face.

“I mean,” Your languid gaze swept the room. “It isn’t right, but I get it.” You shrugged.

“That’s enough. I don’t have the patience to deal with all of you at once.Every one of you to your bedrooms! I don’t want to hear one peep out of you for the rest of the day.”

“Sure thing, Daddy.” The corners of your lips quirked into an almost grin as you stood and headed for your room.

“Smart ass.” He grumbled following behind you.

#negan x plus sized reader #the walking dead #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan x reader #negan #jeffrey dean morgan

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