#not me being fully taken off guard by my body's urge to crawl into their lap like a clingy cat

[3rdbogwitch2theleft]

Was anyone going to tell me you don't realize how much you've missed a friend until you see them in person again or was I just supposed to figure that out myself

[allthingskakashi]

You said you don't write NSFW but what about a fluff "morning after" scenario for kakashi and a female S/O. Like, they had their first time the night before and they're waking up in the next morning and it's just fluff and cuteness all over. If you don't write this type of stuff either you can just ignore the ask. Take all the time you need if you're going to write it 💜

Hey anon! I’m good with writing a morning after! god it’ll be so fluffy and cute ugh and he’s gonna be the best!! Hope you like it! :)))

• The Morning After •

[Kakashi x Reader]

Languor takes over all your senses, making you barely aware of your surroundings. You want to get up, but it feels like you’re not even in control of your own body.

You squeeze your eyes tight as you feel the harsh bright rays of the Sun hitting your sleep ridden, heavy eyelids.  It must be well past when you usually wake up. You’re so sleepy, but you need to get up. This is your off day in a long time and you’ve got a lot to do. A list of all the things you need to get done once you’re up runs through your subconscious mind, perturbing you.

This fucking sunlight though, Jesus.

You force your eyes open just a slit. A blurry image of a room that’s not your own comes into view. Ugh I can’t even process anything.

You turn your gaze to your immediate vicinity and see an extended arm sticking out from under your head.

Oh.

Kakashi…

Images flood into your mind at the speed of light.

You and Kakashi watching TV…Kakashi carrying you from the couch to his bed… the two of you entangled in each other’s arms, kissing like it was for survival…him lifting your t-shirt slowly over your head…His mouth exploring your every curve and crevice…your sweaty bodies in rhythmic synchronization…both of your moans reverberating through the room…holding each other tight…falling asleep in his arms…

You feel the loud thud of your heart hammering in your chest as a montage of last night’s events plays through your mind. You’re fully awake and in your senses now. Your heart is racing as you recollect everything that happened just a few hours ago. Did that really happen?

Just the recollection sends a warm rush to your cheeks, followed closely by a feeling of overwhelming happiness in your heart. Yes, it did.

And with none other than Kakashi, the man you’re deeply in love with. The man you know loves you so much he’d die for you in a heartbeat. The man you know is the one.

You smile in contentment.

You take Kakashi’s hand sticking out from under your head and place a soft kiss on his palm, before intertwining your fingers with his. Judging by how motionless his hand feels, he must still be sound asleep. The thought of his beautiful face in tranquility, with his mussed hair sprawled all over it makes you smile to yourself. You slowly turn to your other side to face Kakashi, careful not to disturb him; anticipating a replicated sight of the image inside your head.

Facing him now, you rest your gaze upon him, only to catch him wide awake, staring at you with eyes so full of love and warmth, a subtle smile on his lips. His smile broadens as soon as your eyes meet.

He looks angelic lying there beside you, his ashen hair shining silver in the sunlight. You can’t help but smile back at him.

“Good morning”, you whisper, snuggling closer to Kakashi’s chest. “How long have you been up?”

He pulls you in further and kisses the top of your head. “A while. Did you sleep okay?”

“The best I’ve slept in ages” you answer truthfully.

“Me too” Kakashi says, firming up his grip around you, his tone husky from the sleep.

The Sun outside is starting to shine brighter now, making you just a tad clammy under all the covers. You bury your face in Kakashi’s chest, trying to block out the light.

He notices, indubitably. Nothing that causes you discomfort ever escapes the copy ninja’s observant eyes. He moves nearer, providing more of his chest as a shield to you. 

“I’m sorry about that. I was going to get up and pull the curtains but...” his voice drops low “but you were sleeping on my arm...and I didn’t want to move away” he finishes in a murmur, as if he’s almost embarrassed to admit it.

You raise your head to look at him and start chuckling.

  What did I ever to do deserve this guy?

You get an irresistible urge to just reach over and smother him with kisses.

“You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” you say, laughing. He flusters up, just as he always does whenever you compliment him.

“You might have mentioned it a few times” Kakashi says, trying to sound cocky but being deceived by the giddiness in his eyes.

“But still not enough” you say, pulling his face in towards you.

Holding his face in both your hands, you plant a kiss on his forehead, and then bridge of his nose, tracing your lips all over his face. His cheeks, his eyelids, the scar on his eye, his mole, and all across, before pressing your lips on his mouth. He immediately parts his lip, greeting your tongue into his mouth with his own. He requites, taking your face in his hands and pulling you to him as your tongues meet in fervent swirls.

You keep going till you’re completely breathless. You pull your lips apart slowly, panting and unwilling to stop, your lips like opposite ends of a magnet; but needing to catch your breath.

“Well that certainly makes up for missing out on our morning work out today” you remark with smile, your voice teasing.

Kakashi laughs. “More than makes up.”

You fall back down on the bed again, lying side by side on your backs in shared silence, taking in the warmth of each other’s presence.

“Y/n”, Kakashi’s voice breaks the silence after a while. You turn your face to see him looking at you, a solemnness in his eyes, almost as if he’s scared.

“You’re okay, right? I didn’t…hurt you or anything? Please don’t be afraid to tell me whatever you feel. I love you...I hope you know that, even though I may not say it that often. And I really hope that last night was just as great for you as it was for me.” He finishes, his tone genuine but tense.

The sincerity in his voice tugs at your heartstrings. No one has ever cared for you so much before. But then, no one before was Kakashi. You’ve been with guys before, but none of them ever made you feel the way Kakashi did. And you didn’t care much for how they made you feel either, they’d meant nothing to you. But Kakashi… he was perfect in every way. He was so considerate and patient with you, making sure you were okay and having a good time every step of the way. He had never even rushed you to do anything despite the two of you being together for almost 6 months now. He had never so much as hinted at anything.

You reach out and put your hand across his cheek, stroking it lightly.

“Kakashi… last night was the most beautiful night of my life. You were great. And I’m FINE. Better than fine. I’m really happy, and I’m glad last night happened. And i do know how much you love me. I love you too.” you say smiling as you stroke out the frown lines on his face. 

Kakashi’s eyes soften, relief flowing over his face, smoothing out his features. A strange stiffness that you had noticed in him all this while vanishes and Kakashi looks like himself again. Even better, he looks happy. He beams at you, leaning over and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Well, how about some breakfast? I’ll make you your favorite.” Kakashi asks, sitting up on the bed now.

“Oh no, that’s fine, you don’t have to. I actually better get going. I have a lot to do today” you say, sighing, sitting up yourself.

“No, you don’t” Kakashi says, flatly.

You look at him, befuddled. “What do you mean? Yes, I do. I have to get my laundry, do some grocery shopping, organise my kitchen cabinets, clean my—”

“It’s all taken care of.” Kakashi answers, in the same flat voice.

“Huh?” you look at him, your face scrunched up, completely confused.

Kakashi laughs at the look on your face and takes your hands in his.

“Well, Y/n…I really wanted to spend the day with you. We hardly ever get off days or get to spend much time together. I wanted to spend time with you today so I got some clones and my ninken to care of all that for you”

You look at him, open mouthed, completely speechless.

“what did you- how did you even know what all I needed to do?”

“just saw the to-do list on your refrigerator last time I was at your place” he shrugs.

You gape at him, trying to process.

“Wait a minute, you really got Pakkun to agree to do my CHORES?”

 “Well...” he pauses for a while… “eventually.” “you know I can sweet talk anyone into anything” Kakashi finishes, with a sly grin and a wink.

You laugh, staring at Kakashi in awe, completely caught off guard by all of this.

As the initial shock and confusion of the situation subsides , a sense of relief floods through you. You feel a little guilty for feeling this way but the realization that you now have no chores to do for the entire day and are free to spend a whole day with your boyfriend makes you way too happy to mull over that right now. Both your heart and your mind feel free of any worries. It’s just you and him now.

You crawl closer to Kakashi, climbing over his extended legs and positioning yourself on his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, as his back rests against the headboard.

A mischief filled smile plays across your lips as you look deep into the eyes of the copy ninja.

“Well then...how about I sweet talk you into joining me for a shower right now, to properly express my gratitude... and then we can make breakfast and spend the rest of the day together?”

Kakashi pulls you in with a jerk, gripping your hips in his hands and returning your smile.

“no sweet talking necessary for that.”

[doctorreids]

folklore - spencer reid x reader

CHAPTER FOUR - exile 

previous chapter | next chapter 

word count: 2.3k

a/n: so i thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter so i hope you all enjoy! i’m the slightest bit worried that spencer is ooc but i’ll let myself lose sleep over that at some point. the donny hathaway song i’m referring to is this one - one of my favourite songs ever, so so so beautiful. reblogs, likes and comments are, as always very much appreciated - thank you for all the love so far x

“i can see you standin’ honey, with his arms around your body, laughin’ but the jokes not funny at all.”

It had been 3 months, 2 weeks, 3 days. He wishes he could recall the exact time but, for once in his life, he can’t.

There was life before Y/N and there was life with her, he never imagined that there would be a life without her; because if this is life…

The curse of having an eidetic memory is recalling every word, every glance, every silence, and every mistake. They filled his head every day, cacophonous and relentless.

He knows that 50% of couples break up then reconcile, he knows that this is more typical for unmarried couples to do. Yet, statistics do nothing to calm his frustration at himself. Statistics don’t tell him what he can do to fix what is broken.

There’s so much that he misses; her jumping at any chance to be with him, accompanying him to foreign film festivals, conventions, and anything he showed the slightest interest in. She would do anything for him, long before he ever called her his.

He’s still processing the depth of his loss. He had convinced himself for the first month that he could carry on and ignore the chilling cold of his bed at night or the loneliness of the subway journey home. By the second month, he could hardly look at himself. Now, three months on, the pain is so visceral, so real, that he cannot escape the crushing silence that surrounds him. No more quiet conversations on the jet, or laughter in the bullpen.

He wonders if her apartment feels just as empty as his.

He can’t help but let his mind wander to the conversation he overheard between Emily and Y/N in the bullpen - something about setting her up with a guy she knew from outside of work. He tried hard not to read into how reluctant she was accepting Emily’s offer or how defensive she looked when he went back to his desk.

What did he miss? Were there signs? Or did he, like he always did ignore the cracks as soon as they started to appear?

He didn’t want to think about someone else holding her, making her laugh, or being the reason for her smile.

It was dark outside, leaves littering the street, the rain pattering on his window. The sound of the occasional car passing by was the only sound that filled his apartment. Autumn was always his favourite season, it reminded him of change and growth, and when he first met her. It was cool that day, she was wrapped up in a royal blue knitted scarf and a soft brown worn coat - he swore to himself that he’d never seen anyone as beautiful before in his life.

He could barely focus on anything nowadays, from paperwork to books, everything was too difficult to confront. Sure, he’d been attending meetings, discussing his urges to numb himself from the world again. The beginning of his battle with addiction came before she did, it haunted him.

If he was being honest with himself, his addiction was the only thing he had fully confided in her.  She gave him all the understanding that, at times, his own chosen family didn’t give him. He didn’t resent them for it but it was frustrating.

He knew he immersed himself in work too often, the sea of paperwork and cases kept his head above the water that threatened to drown him. After all his years working for the BAU, he still didn’t know how to properly talk about what they witnessed. He tried to chalk it up to facts and probabilities, that evil exists in the world and all he can do is use what he knows to prevent it from happening again. But he couldn’t stop it from happening in the first place.

Despite how much responsibility he placed on his shoulders with his work, he questioned whether or not his career was what he really wanted. He’d promised he would find a cure for schizophrenia by the time he was thirty. Yet, here he is - alone, many a Ph.D. to his name but no overwhelming achievement.

He knew his first mistake was not telling her about how he was feeling. But he was angry, he didn’t know how to verbalise what was overwhelming him. Frustrated and choked up, he pushed her away. He kept telling himself that he felt suffocated, he was anxious that he would lose her to his job and he couldn’t prevent that. There was so much in his life that he couldn’t control.

His mother wasn’t improving, getting worse day by day, and all he could do was stand by and watch. He could write as many letters, call every day, and visit as often as he could but he couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t change what was happening.

He was surrounded by people he considered to be his family yet he felt alone. All the time. So, he pulled up his guard, plastered a smile on his face, and carried on. She would always go before him in his life, nothing could change that.

Work had been…tense. He knew from the start that the girls would be protective of her and he didn’t blame them - he knew that very next day when she didn’t reply to his texts or calls or when JJ told him to ‘give her space. His only other option was Derek and his advice wasn’t, at times, what he wanted to hear.

Derek told him to fix it actively but he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to fix. Himself or their relationship? Some big romantic gesture would win her back, he was told, but he knew she hated those. He tried bringing her favourite flowers, roses, but he would freeze up every time he got to her front door. By now, it wasn’t the season for roses and he was running out of options.

JJ, Emily, and Garcia never treated him any differently, he just felt exiled from their bullpen meet-ups. From the start, all he wanted was JJ’s advice. That night they all went out, he sat in her house with Henry, listening to him babble on about Aunt Y/N and Uncle Spencer.

He won’t ever forget the sad look JJ gave him when he left, underlying anger and bitterness in her voice when she bid him goodnight.

He can’t help but think that he had irreparably messed up.

“all this time, we always walked a very thin line.”

They always said that working together was more of a blessing than a curse, they were never without the other. They could read each other like the back of each other’s hand. Until one day, they couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure what switch flipped in his mind but his ability to be vulnerable with her and to open up completely was turned off. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find the words to express what was going on in his mind.

Then again, neither could she. That connection between them was lost, there was this impenetrable distance between them now.

He couldn’t get comfortable in his chair, his glass of whiskey sitting beside his growing stack of books. He kept trying to find room for them but he just couldn’t bring himself to put them away - it reminded him of her apartment; books scattered on different tables, never on the shelf. It was the only trace of her left in his apartment.

His pillow no longer smelt of her, sweet and fresh. Her toothbrush was no longer sitting by his sink nor her shampoo in his shower. He’d taken down the photos, they were too painful to look at almost every day. Yet, he still kept that scarf she had left at his apartment after one of their dates, the royal blue one. Her perfume was fading on that too.

“you’re not my homeland anymore, so what am i defending?”

She had been quiet the entire car journey home, exhaustion clearly written on her face. Her brow was furrowed in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked softly.

A slight smile flickered across her face for a split second. It went as quickly as it came, she was angry.

“I just want to get us home in one piece, Spence,” she snapped, “can you let me do that?”

“Sure.”

She wasn’t just angry, she was pissed.

By the time they got back to his apartment, she was tired, cold, and frustrated with him. He was equally as tired but grateful to be with her, alive and well. His run-in with the unsub resulted in an overnight stay in the hospital and minor surgery. Well, he thought it was minor. She clearly didn’t.

She didn’t stop for tea the way they normally would nor did she bother to leave the light on for him in the bathroom. She just crawled into bed without a word spoken to him since they’d gotten back to his apartment. In all honesty, he thought she was just going to drop him off then go back to her own home. He was surprised that she didn’t.

Lifting the covers, he slid into bed as silently as he could as not to wake her.

“What you did was really stupid, you know that?”

She was awake. He should’ve guessed.

‘I know.”

She sighed, turning to face him, “Spencer, I know our jobs don’t exactly meet safety regulations but you can’t play the hero all the time. I had to tell myself a long time ago, that you can’t save everyone. I know you, Spence. You’re a good man, brave and you have more courage in you than literally every other man that I’ve ever met and I love you for it. But you can’t keep doing this to me, to us.”

“Doing what?”

“Scaring us all half to death. You don’t remember me holding your hand while we waited for the medics. You don’t remember Morgan telling me that you’d pull through. You didn’t get to see everyone’s faces in the waiting room. But I remember it all, I don’t think I’ll forget it.”

He was stunned into silence.

“I could only think of the worst. How was I going to be able to tell your mother? How was I supposed to carry on knowing,” her voice broke and his heart shattered, “that I would never get to hold you again, or hear one of your many facts, or be able to explain how much you mean to me.”

“But, you didn’t have to-“ he started.

“I know. You’re alive and I’m so grateful. But if you ever pull a stunt like that ever again…”

His smile was sad, “I won’t ever leave you. You’re my home. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

“And you’re mine too.”

“i think i’ve seen this film before and i didn’t like the ending.”

The memory echoed in his mind. He thinks about what could have been, the family he pictured them having. He knew, even though it was unsaid, she wanted a little girl. He couldn’t lie and say that he wouldn’t want to see a miniature Y/N running around. He always wanted his own kids ever since Henry was born and something inside him changed when he saw you holding Henry for the first time.

He saw his future before him.

Or so he thought. His dream disappeared when he heard his front door slam that night. He would give anything to take that night back. Take back the things that were said, the things left unsaid, and go after her.

By now, he thought he was too late. He witnessed the most perfect, the most precious thing he had in his life play out like a Shakespearian tragedy on the big screen. His heartache played like a movie he had seen far too many times before.

Maybe they were doomed from the start, their ending determined by fate. Something he only ever believed in with her.

“You can’t save everyone.” He couldn’t even save himself. He thought he was kidding himself when he thought he could ever win her back, too much time had passed, too much distance.

There were oceans between them, and for too long he was too scared to start to cross the vast space.

He stared at his now empty whiskey glass and out onto the street - the rain was heavier now. He had no idea what time it was, it was late. He wonders if she’s still up. If she’s sitting in that chair by her window, like he is, thinking about him.

His whole body aches for her touch. He aches to tell her everything, to apologise and to tell her all the small little things that have happened since they last spoke. Like how that mug she used to always drink out of shattered when he was putting it back in the cupboard and how he cried because he couldn’t glue it back together. Or how he searched and searched for a new one but he couldn’t find it so he decided to not buy a new one, it couldn’t be replaced.

He would tell her that he listens to that Donny Hathaway song she used to always play in the car late at night. He’d like to think that she would be proud that he knows all the words - that he doesn’t just listen to Beethoven. Morgan told him to play a song over a boombox outside her window. He didn’t get the reference but he knew he would play that song.

He opened his wardrobe to pull out his pyjamas when it caught his eye. The scarf, a shimmer of glitter caught in the moonlight.

He knew what he had to do.

Grabbing his coat, keys, and the scarf, he opened his door and walked out into the night.

[quirkdotcom]

Hey everyone !! I am super excited to post this as part of a collab with my fellow members of BNHA Sanctuary! The prompt was " _____ is concerned bc (y/n) isn't sleeping." I chose Izuku Midoriya as my character because he needs a little more love ! So I hope everyone enjoys! Don't forget to check out the other collab writers fics too !!

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Technically, Midoriya wasn't supposed to have anyone over in his dorm, even in college he had tried to follow that rule knowing that if he didn't, Iida would probably find out and scold him, but as he flipped over and looked just above your shoulder, his All Might themed alarm clock read out "4:12AM" with red numbers, and he gave a small sigh.

Tonight was one of the first nights that you had been able to sleep before 5am, but the reason was unknown. Midoriya had asked you plenty of times, each time you resulted in you shaking your head vigorously and eyes watering until he just hugged you tightly, saying that you would find another time to talk about it. 

Slowly, scooted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your side, pulling you closer to him.  

The movement, which Izuku had thought he was being slow with, actually woke you up. You blinked a few times before turning and nuzzling into his chest, quietly mumbling, "Are you awake Izu?"

"I'm definitely sleeping…are you awake (Y/n)?" 

You hummed, starting to wake up more now, "A little bit," Yet despite your words, you didn't make any effort to move, "What time is it?"

"4:14 in the morning," he responded, pulling back a little so he could look at you

Slowly you sat up, pulling yourself free from his grasp, suddenly wide awake. 

"Baby?" He sat up next, eyeing you slightly as growing concern seeped in. 

You looked back to him, offering up a smile, "Don't worry Izu, I'm still tired enough to sleep," 

He seemed to relax some, the tension slowly leaving his body, "I'm glad then, because I think it's too early to get up for the day, and that's coming from me of all people,"  he then proceeded to lay back down, hugging the comforter to his chest

You laughed lightly, then paused, letting out a heavy breath, "Hey Izuku, I owe you an explanation, I shouldn't make you worry all the time and have to have me over in your dorm like this," 

Again, he sat up, scooting closer to where you were sitting, "Whatever the reason is, I'd be happy to help you over and over again, okay?" 

You nodded, leaning against him, glad to have that reassurance of support. 

"Well...my quirk has some nasty side effects…" You paused, closing your eyes and allowing the shadow like mass begin to rise from your body. 

It was a lot like Tokoyami's dark shadow in the sense that it was almost another being but attached to you. It could take a multitude of shapes, and most items couldn't pass through it, rather instead would get stuck to it. 

Most of the time you used it to create a large beast of sorts, and it only grew stronger from the fear or unease of your opponents. 

However it's main and personal drawback was arguably the worst. 

"When I don't use my quirk enough, it turns on me in my dreams…well nightmares. The Mass as I call it, separates from me and chases me down. In the end it envelops me and...well I start to suffocate. So I've been staying up late to try and put off the dreams as long as I can," 

In the dark of the room, your quirk was even more unsettling. It looked to be wriggling around, crawling amongst the edges of the room. But the one area it wouldn't go near, was the spot where Midoriya sat. 

Instinctively he wrapped his arms around you, feeling your trembles.  He thought for some time about what you had said until finally, he knew what the root of this issue was. 

"(Y/n) my love, don't let it feed off you," 

You turned at his comment, looking up to him, his oddly calm demeanor throwing you off guard. Normally, most people tended to draw back from you and your quirk, but Midoriya never did.  

"You said that your quirk grows stronger when people are scared or uneasy, and I think that it applies to you as well. It's easily taken over the whole room by now. " 

As you looked to the room, watching as the Mass would slink around the room, at times catching a ray of moonlight, seemingly drowning the light in itself. 

The longer you looked, the more it started to grow, your heart raced, you couldn't find a spot for your eyes to stop, they just kept looking. No one spot in the room was safe from it's grasp. 

Before you could fall further into its depths, two arms circled around your waist, pulling you close, "(Y/n)...you're safe…" 

All at once, the mass receded, leaving the room as it was before. 

With that, you laid down, pulling Izuku with you. While you didn't fall asleep very fast, you still knew that you'd be able to come back tomorrow to try again. 

And you did. You continued to do so for about a week, every night repeating as it had been the first night of that week. 

You still got hardly any sleep, and were starting to fall behind in both your classes and your training. In fact, there would be times where he would catch you fighting the urge to doze off while just hanging out with friends. 

Midoriya found himself asking for the help of your best and closest friend.

"Hey, Tanako, can I ask you something?" 

The water vortex hero-in-training looked up, as she was currently focusing on a book, "First, Midoriya, you can call me by my first name by now, but what's up?" 

"Ah sorry Katsumi…" he gave a sheepish smile and took a seat across from the brunette, "You know how (Y/n) stays up all the time? I've been trying to help them but...nothing is working," 

Katsumi dog eared a corner to her book, closing it as she hummed, "Well, when we were younger, we used to sleep in forts, and had lights strung up so that it wasn't so dark," she met brown eyes to his green ones, "I'm not sure if it would work now...but I think it's worth a shot. " 

Izuku nodded, standing back up, "I'll need to get some lights then..and figure out a good setup for a fort, Thanks Katsumi ! Have fun reading!" 

He started to walk away but didn't get too far before your friend called back out to him.

"Oh and Midoriya, thank you. We've all gotten pretty worried for (Y/n)," 

He nodded, turning back and going over his plan in his head. 

His first stop would be the store, finding some fairy  lights to hang up. He also decided to buy a few extra blankets, and another pillow. 

With that being done, he headed back to the university dorms, making his way to his own and luckily for him, he had some time before you were supposed to come over. 

He started to move things around, pulling the bed over towards the window, and his desk to the other wall. From there, Izuku started to round up all his extra blankets, grabbing extra tacks to hold them up. 

What took up the most of his time was the fact that he couldn't settle on a good way to have the blankets and the overall shape of the fort, after all he only had so much room to work with. 

In fact, he was still working on putting up the blankets by the time you had let yourself into his dorm. 

"Uh..Izuku?"

Midoriya jumped lightly, and turned around to face you, a blush spreading across his face as he realized he had been caught, "Uh..surprise?" 

You took a moment to look around his dorm, noticing the changes in where your bed was, and where he was currently sitting, blankets in hand. 

"Are you...building a fort?" 

Despite all the evidence you had already seen, he quickly glanced around and hid the blanket behind his back, smiling embarrassedly, "I uh...I was..I mean yeah but…" 

But to his surprise, you barked out a laugh, letting your bag slide off your shoulders and to the floor as you made your way over to him, "That's cute ! Let me help!" 

And so, together you both figured out the best set up, easily hanging up the blankets and lights, then using the rest of the blankets to create a comfy space on the floor underneath the fort. Midoriya pulled out his laptop, playing your favorite movie and starting it as you grabbed a few snacks. 

Once fully settled in, he wrapped his arms around you, and let you rest your head against his body. 

In his arms was perhaps the safest spot for you to be. He was warm, comfortable and you knew that you wouldn't have any troubles as long as he held onto you. In fact, you could hardly keep your eyes open in the moment. 

Within the next ten minutes you fell fast asleep. Izuku flicked his eyes to the clock in the corner of his laptop, smiling as he read that it was only around 9:38pm. H3 let out a small and content sigh, holding you a little tighter and closed his own eyes, getting ready to sleep, letting the movie play out in the background.

"I love you, (Y/n)..." he murmured, though you couldn't hear him, he was sure that you knew...and you did. 

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Part 6

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: This idea was a long time coming. My first true AU, so please be gentle. This will be a slow burn, multi-chapter fic.

A big big thank you to my bestie @kazosa for not only keeping on me to write more of this story, but also for being my beta, my cheerleader, and all around amazing human.

WC: 5K

Series Summary: Lord Samuel Winchester has lost the love of his life due to the actions of the Demon King, Crowley. As he plots secret revenge, his father, the King of Lawrence, decrees that Sam will wed Crowley’s daughter in order to unite the two families to protect the sacred ground the Winchester’s Kingdom is built upon.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Other Players: John Winchester, Crowley, Rowena, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore (deceased)

Series Warnings: 18+ only, mild language, violence, implied smut

The sun rose over Lawrence on a typical Tuesday morning. A familiar sound woke Sam, something he heard every Tuesday morning--the melody of the tower bells summoning the Winchester guard to court. Normally, they didn’t ring until later in the morning, but their early clanging roused a reluctant Sam from a deep, painless slumber. 

When his eyes finally fluttered fully open, he slowly rolled his head to the side, knowing he’d see her there, but this morning was different than any other before it; this morning, she would wake up and truly be his wife. His mind recalled the night before, and into the early hours of that morning, rolling around on the floor, making love to the woman he was supposed to despise. The corner of his mouth twitched into an awkward smile as he thought about how she moved her body with his, how she opened up and let him take her. There was a manner of uncontrolled passion that erupted between them, and even then, he was getting hard thinking about it. 

The bells rang again, along with the Horn of Gabriel, a much deeper tone that stood out over the sound of the melodic chimes. Sam furrowed his brow, knowing this meant for the guard to assemble quickly. He wondered if there was news from the front lines… from Dean. He looked at his sleeping bride with a last longing look, taking special notice of how her hair spilled out on the pillow around her. Resisting the urge to brush a finger against her cheek, he threw off the covers and didn’t think of his hip once as he put his feet on the floor and moved about his chambers to dress for the day. 

Just as Sam fastened the last button on his shirt, he heard (Y/N) stirring from behind him. 

“Samuel?” she spoke, half asked in a low, sleepy tone. “Where… it’s so early.” She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and pulled the blanket up to her collarbone, covering her naked breasts. 

“Rest,” he tutted. “It is early. I need to go to court, the bells are calling the guard. I’m going to check it out, but you can go back to sleep.”

“No,” she said and sat up further in the bed. “I’ll go with you, we should present a united front.”

“I appreciate that, (Y/N), but your presence there would be questioned, even by my father. I promise to take it all in and report back.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. His thumb rubbed the back of her hand for a moment before he spoke. “I’m not trying to leave you out, I swear. I just--”

“It’s fine, Sam. I understand. I just wanted to be there to support you. Dealing with your father can’t be easy.”

“Since he has seen us playing along with whatever their plan is, he’s been surprisingly pleasant,” Sam said, a small tinge of sarcasm coating his tone.

“Well, he’s getting what he wants. Of course he’s going to be kind.” She paused and gave his hand a little squeeze in return. “Sam, about last night. I--”

A deep, penetrating knock rapped at the door, interrupting her and causing both their heads to snap around. Their eyes met in a questioning glance before Sam released her hand and walked towards the door. 

“Sam!” She whispered hoarsely but sharp to gain his attention. “Your cane… appearances and all that.”

“Good thinking,” he said, half embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of that. He scooped up the now unneeded crutch and went to open the chamber door.

As he pulled it open, a member of the Winchester Guard was standing at full attention. 

“My Lord, your father, the King, requires your immediate attention. He needs you to come to the War Room without delay,” the guard rambled quickly, causing Sam to shake his head and lend a soft smile at the man.

“Slow down… what’s wrong? Why are the Court bells ringing so early?”

“Please, Lord Winchester, your father… he--” 

Sam could see the unsettled look in the guardsman’s face and knew that something was definitely happening. He drew in a steading breath and patted the man on his ironclad shoulder.

“Let me finish dressing. Something tells me I need to be prepared for anything,” Sam said more to himself than to the guard. 

“I would say that’s an accurate assessment,” the guardsman replied in the same manner, but Sam could hear the slight tremble in his words before he closed the door, blocking the man’s view into their chambers. 

Sam leaned his cane near the entry, this way he wouldn’t forget it on the way out. He then made a mental note that he would also have to remember to add his now healed limp back into his entrance to the War Room. His mind began to race at what could be so urgent. It must be about Purgatory, as that was all his father had been concerned about lately. Well, that, and Sam’s ability to produce an heir.

Sighing deeply Sam sat on the edge of the bed and studied (Y/N)’s face as she did the same to him. 

“You’re very troubled, husband. What could possibly be so dire that you have to run to Court at the very minute of daybreak?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, still buried in thought and growing concern. “But I plan on finding out. For now, I think you should stay here. Don’t wander today.”

“Okay, if you think that’s for the best.”

Sam’s head snapped up when she agreed so easily. “What? No fight from the Mistress Macleod? I’m shocked.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and crawled out from beneath the covers, either unaware or unphased by her vulnerable nudity and positioned herself right beside him. “I’m a Winchester now, remember? And if my Lord husband asks me to do something because he thinks it's best, then I shall grant his wish.”

Sam’s dimpled smile lit up his face, knowing that she was being half truthful and half sarcastically playful. The urgency to leave for the inevitable meeting with the King his guardsman loomed over him, but he was having difficulty pulling away from her and leaving her alone in the bed they just shared. He allowed himself his own moment of vulnerability and let his fingers slowly wander up the silky flesh of her arm, tracing his finger across her collarbone and up to her cheek.

“Thank you.” His voice was rough and low, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Instead, she placed her delicate hand against his stubbled cheek. 

“Go, before he sends another Guard rapping,” (Y/N) chuckled, then leaned forward and kissed his lips tentatively. Sam returned her kiss and knew that if he didn’t stop then, his father would quickly be forgotten and he would be tangled up in her all over again. 

With a grunt of frustration, Sam stood from the bed and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair by the fireplace. He could still feel the heat of the fire from the night before and smiled at the memory of how they enjoyed it for the entire night. One last look back at the woman now laying in his bed, and he left the chambers to see what fresh Hell awaited him in the War Room.

Every step towards the War Room, Sam could feel his nerves growing and vibrating beneath his skin. The tension was buzzing so loudly in his head, he was having trouble streamlining his thoughts. Luckily he had remembered to grab his cane on the way out, but halfway towards his destination, it finally registered that he needed to add in his now gone limp. By the time he reached the hulking wooden door that led to whatever awful things awaited, he was back in the habit of babying his hip; but not because he physically needed too, whatever (Y/N) had done the night before was holding strong and then some.

Drawing in one long, deep breath, Sam pushed the doors open and used his sharp eyes to survey the room the second he stepped in. To the left were his father’s top advisors, including Bobby and Pastor Jim from the Church of Lawrence. To the right of the room were a dozen or so of the Winchester Guard, standing at attention and waiting for any order the King may decree. In the middle of the room, the ancient table that mapped out the lands for hundreds of miles--including the Elven Woods and the entrances to Purgatory--was set with various pieces representing the Winchester’s army and their current battle plans. Sam noticed another set of pawns added to the table. They were black forms dotted with bright spots of bright crimson. Sam’s gut took a dive as he realized those markers belonged to Crowley’s army of demons. 

Looking up, Sam finally noticed his father’s form standing in front of the raging fire, whose snap and crackle was the loudest sound in the room. John was free of his usual Royal garb, and instead dressed in a simple pair of denim pants and black long sleeved shirt. One arm was stretched all the way out, leaning against the stone mantle, while the other hand was pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Dad,” Sam spoke tentatively, carefully studying his father’s slumped shoulders and lowered head, “what’s going on? Why are you calling court so early?”

John stood motionless for what felt like an eternity. When he finally turned and met his youngest son’s eyes, Sam was taken aback by what he saw in them. The normally stoic, no nonsense King of Lawrence, had wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes that made him look as though he had been crying. 

Sam’s gut swelled with sickness, as he considered what could be so bad that it would cause his father to show such a surge of emotion in front of anyone, much less the highest ranking members of his Kingdom. Words were stuck in his throat as he continued to stare at John, unable to force anything more than a trembling breath to expel from between his lips.

“Samuel…” John’s rough voice finally broke through the silence of the room. “I have news from the front lines.” He paused and stood tall, lengthening himself to full height, but still not as tall as the son he was staring down. “It’s your brother, he--”

“Dean? Is he okay? Is he… dead?”

John opened his mouth to speak, but another voice chimed in before the King could answer. 

“Come on Sammy, you think I’m gonna let a few Purgatory sonsofbitches take me out?”

Sam whirled around on one heel quickly, a move that would have certainly left him in agonizing pain before (Y/N)’s treatment. He didn’t even think of it, because the voice belonged to his brother, who was now standing right behind him. 

“What? No hello for your big brother?”

“Dean,” Sam breathed with a relief sigh, “You’re alive!”

Sam was stunned to see Dean. Speechless, he stared at his brother, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was real, and not some fever dream. Bruised and battered, Dean stood before his younger brother, his patented smart ass smile plastered across his face and his arms outstretched, palms up, and shaking his head. “Well of course I am. Damn, it's like you have zero faith in me... Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam snorted and rolled his eyes and took the last few steps to embrace his brother. Dean didn’t hold back and hugged Sam just as tightly, smacking his back to accentuate his joy at their reunion. When they finally parted, they gave one final nod of acknowledgement; they’re way of saying, ‘yeah, I’m okay’ without having to actually say it. 

“Dean’s return from the front lines is certainly cause for celebration, don’t you think?” John said loud enough to capture the attention of the room. “And now that Samuel is married, on the way to producing an heir, both my sons are on track to fulfil their destinies. If that isn’t a good enough reason to call an early Court, I don’t know what is.”

Sam watched John’s face transform into a grin, but he could feel no genuine happiness radiating from it. There was something else behind his King’s mask that Sam could feel instead… guilt, fear, regret… he wasn’t sure he could pinpoint it, but he knew that his father was hiding something. 

“I called this early court because I wanted to discuss a few things before we got down to real business. There is to be a big celebration--”

“Celebration?” Bobby interjected from the shadows. He stepped into view and adjusted his cap nervously. “I don’t mean to barge in here, but, John… c’mon. Now is not the time--”

“Bobby, please. There has been so much blight and pain in the last few years,” John said, then paused to adjust the hint of a smile to appear more heavy than happy. “With Sam’s marriage, and Dean’s return, I think it's appropriate to let the people rejoice for once instead of mourning their loved ones who don’t come home.”

The room fell completely silent. Sam watched as his father starred down the old Maester, and could feel the tension fill the air. Bobby flicked a quick glance Sam’s way--only the briefest of looks--but Sam knew exactly what it meant. 

Tread easy boy...

Sam cleared his throat. “I think a celebration is in order,” he agreed, then paused before continuing. Sam was trying to appear diplomatic and act in accordance with his father’s wishes. He didn’t feel a party of any kind was proper, but, if he could find a way to use this to his advantage, he would do what he had to. “I mean, it's not every day my brother returns in one piece. And my wedding wasn’t exactly the happiest of occasions. Now that some time has passed and (Y/N) and I are embracing our commitment, I think a party is a great idea.”

“I’m surprised at you, Sammy,” John snorted. “I thought you, of all people, would be fighting me.”

“No dad, I’m done fighting you. I am here to fulfil my duties and take on the role you need me to take on. Just like Dean did in Purgatory…” 

Murmurs of agreement began to radiate from the guardsman that had gathered. Sam noticed John’s demeanor change, and could feel how rigid the King had quickly become. He knew he could leave it there, just agree with John and let it go. But something in his gut told him to push it further, twist this to his favor… 

Sam grinned knowingly at John, which seemed to throw the King off even more. 

“For the return of my brother. For the joining of Winchester and Crowley lineage--” Sam heard Dean audibly react to the name Crowley, but Sam didn’t chance a look back. Instead, he held John’s dark eyes and twitched another satisfied smirk. “--and for the battles we are fighting in Purgatory against Eve’s most terrifying monsters. Like my father said, it's time to raise a goblet in good cheer, instead of in mourning. So, let’s throw a feast and raise a cup of ale to ‘We, the Hunters and Protectors of Lawrence’! To all of us, those who fight and those who WILL win the fight every day that it rages on!”

The Winchester Guardsman in the room erupted into shouts and cheers just as Sam had hoped they would. The King’s grin expanded, showing off his deeply dimpled cheeks and his perfect teeth. Yet when Sam watched him, he saw nothing but contempt in his father’s eyes. 

“All right, all right…” John said in an authoritative, deep voice that immediately quieted the room. “There are still matters to discuss at hand. Yes, we can celebrate, but first, we must strategize. I need to speak with Bobby and Pastor Jim. We will reconvene later to hear what Dean has brought us from the front lines.” John paused from addressing the room and turned to Sam. “Sam, for now, why don’t you take Dean to meet your lovely bride. It’s only right he meets the newest member of our family.”

Sam turned to Dean, who nodded swiftly. “I think that’s a great idea. Would love a chance to catch up with my little brother here, and his new wife. Did I hear correctly… she’s a Crowley?”

“Macleod, actually,” Sam corrected. “But yes, let’s leave the King to his business. You and I have some catching up to do.”

“Dude,” Dean rasped and swiped a smack to the back of Sam’s head. “You married a Crowley?! What the HELL were you thinking?!”

“Dean, relax. First of all, it wasn’t my idea. This was all dad,” Sam scoffed as he walked slowly through the maze of stone corridors leading to his chambers. “Trust me, I was NOT on board at first. I fought dad on this tooth and nail.”

“But yet…” Dean huffed as his arms animatedly waved in front of him, as if he was calling someone safe a home plate. 

“Look…” Sam turned and made sure Dean stopped before crashing into him. “I hear you, okay? Don’t think for a second that I went along with this easily.”

“So why did you go along with it at all? He got you brainwashed?”

“No, I just realized that maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

Dean choked on whatever words he wanted to say and just stared at his little brother. 

“Also,” Sam started then turned and kept moving towards his room, “She’s not a Crowley. Crowley is… Crowley. (Y/N) is Crowley’s daughter.”

“Oh, well, that makes it sooo much better,” Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Sam’s shoulder to make him stop walking. 

“Dude, stop for one second… please, explain this to me. How did this happen?”

“Dad told me it was up to me to produce an heir. Your place was on the front lines. Since I am the resident gimp and can no longer fight, my role is to make him a grandpa.” His tone oozed contempt. “Apparently him and Crowley made some sort of deal. We bind our two families by marriage, have a child, and dad gets reinforcements of Crowley’s minions at the front lines of Purgatory.”

Dean snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Right, because demon deals always work in our favor.”

Sam shrugged unsure of how to answer him. Dean was right, demon deals never ended well for the Winchesters. They had centuries of family history donning the castle walls proving that. He turned to start walking again, but once again, Dean made him stop.

Sam could see the shift of Dean’s focus was going somewhere else, so he didn’t argue. Instead, he waited for his older brother to arrive at whatever point he was trying to get too.

“Let me get this straight, because none of this makes sense. Dad wants you to produce an heir with a blood relative to the King of Hell?” 

“I know, it seems insane.”

“No, what’s insane, Sam, is that you agreed to it in the first place. Why would you say yes to that? Especially since Crowley is the one who killed Jes--”

“Dean!” Sam barked, loud and with enough assertiveness to make Dean slightly recoil. “I know. Okay, I get it. Maybe it will turn out to be the worst choice I could have made. But when I agreed to it, I had a plan. I was going to kill her to get back at Crowley. Take the life of his daughter as revenge for Jess.”

“Okay… and? Apparently she’s still alive, so what’s stopping you?””

“The plan has since changed. (Y/N) isn’t who I thought she would be. Dean… she’s…”

“Oh God…” Dean buried his face in his palms. “Sammy, don’t… don’t tell me you already knocked her up.”

“No!” Sam 

“Ok, good. Because the last thing I need to worry about while slaughtering vamps and ghouls is you playing house with a literal demon spawn.”

“Just meet her, okay. She’s… different.”

“Oh, you mean her eyes don’t glow red and her body isn’t filled with black smoke?”

“No, they don’t. She’s human, Dean. She’s not a demon. She’s human. Though, she’s got some serious knowledge when it comes to magic.”

“Magic? Like… magic, magic?”

Sam nodded and desperately wanted to back up his words by showing his brother how (Y/N) had healed his hip. Instead, he decided to wait. Dean would need more than that if he was to be convinced that (Y/N) was on the level.

“Man, I go away for a year and all Hell breaks loose, literally. So what is the real plan here, Sammy? Because even if the girl is legit, you agreeing with dad leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Dean, just breathe, okay? I promise you, it will all be okay.”

Once Sam left for the War Room, you laid back against the pillows and drew the blankets up to your chin. Fighting the smile that tugged at the corner of your mouth, you closed your eyes and couldn’t help but think about the night before, spent tangled up with your new husband in the tapestries and sheets. He was an amazing lover; from the moment he had first kissed you, until the moment you fell asleep, he attended to every part of your flesh with a gentle, yet fierce longing you didn’t know could exist. 

Not one part of you wanted to want him. In fact the internal struggle that raged between your head and heart was raucous and frustrating. As you lay there with your eyes shut, your hand went to the place between your breasts where the vial of potion normally rested. It was when your hand felt nothing there but your own soft flesh, that you sat up quickly and with force. Panicked, you began to remember more details from the night before. 

In the recklessness of tearing at what remained of each other’s clothing, the vial on the thin cord must have been removed and tossed aside. You had a vague memory of realizing it the night before, but you had been too punch drunk and lustful in Samuel’s arms to do much about it then. 

Kicking off the covers, grabbing at the robe that lay across the back of the chair, you threw it around loosely and fell to the floor in search of the vial. As you frantically searched the room, your fears were starting to grow that Sam would find it, and you would have to explain… too much. Suddenly fear struck you that he would think you used it on him; that the night you two had spent together was contrived and manipulated as part of your plan. Truth is, that is exactly what it had been for, but there was no need for it. You and Sam found your way to each other naturally and coming to terms with the fact that you didn’t hate it, was something else entirely.

Before you could begin to process that feeling, you had to find the vial. Rooting around on the thick shag throw rug and coming up empty, you moved to under the bed, silently praying you would find it easily. Minutes were passing as if you had all the time in the world, and still the vial seemed to have disappeared. Even in the mess of clothing strewn around the room, there wasn’t a trace of it. 

Another panicked thought hit... Sam would be back soon. Too much time had passed now, and you weren’t dressed. If he arrived and found you still half nude in your robe, hair a mess and frazzled, an explanation would be necessary. Nothing that you could say would sound convincing, especially with the bond you two had been forming over plotting against your fathers. Sighing in relent, you got up off the floor and went to the chest where you kept your clothing and personal effects to choose something to wear for the day. 

Not too long after putting the finishing touches on yourself, you heard the rumble of the chamber door begin to open. You drew in a steadying breath and turned from your reflection in the ornate wall-hung mirror, to greet your husband. Opening your mouth to speak, you were immediately silenced when you saw that Sam wasn’t alone.

“(Y/N),” he said, a hint of a secret smile on his face as he reached out to take your hand, pulling you towards them both, “my brother has returned from Purgatory. Dean,” he stepped aside so Dean could come forward, “this is my wife, (Y/N).”

Seeing the much-storied Dean Winchester in the flesh was a shock. He must have been the reason the bells were ringing so early on a Tuesday; the joyous news of his return must be making its way through the city by now. 

“Wow,” you breathed “It’s wonderful to have you home, My Lord.” You bowed your head and gave the slightest curtsy, unsure of the proper greeting, but not wanting to offend. 

“Is this chick for real?” Dean asked in a semi-hushed tone while elbowing Sam in the ribs.

“Shut up,” Sam bit back and shook his head with a snort. “(Y/N), it’s okay, you can drop formalities in front of my brother. He would rather go back to the depths of Purgatory then be called My Lord.”

“I dunno, kinda has a nice ring to it,” Dean quipped, very amused with himself until he caught sight of his brother’s eye roll. “Fine,” he said, and turned his attention back to you. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N), I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you, so I am sure you will have no trouble living up to the hype.” He flashed Sam another distrustful glance then looked back at you again. 

This time though, you could feel the older Winchester brother’s scrutiny as it traveled down your body from your hair to your toes. He examined you quietly as if looking for the marker that would clue him into exactly who you were. Something about the way his green eyes watching you with such distrust made you nervous, as if he could see straight through you and know every thought that staggered through your mind.

“I’m happy to see you home in one piece, Dean. Sam has been very worried for your safety,” you said, trying to keep the nerves in your voice to a minimum. 

Dean gave a half-hearted smile. “Well, he wouldn’t be Sammy if he wasn’t worrying about me.”

“And I suppose you worry about him the same.”

“I do. Which is why, if you try anything to hurt him, I can promise you they will never find your remai--”

“Dean!” Sam’s demeanor and tone said all his brother needed to hear. 

“Alright, I get it. I don’t know you and I am already being a dick. What can I say, its who I am.”

“I would have you no other way,” you said, returning his half-assed smile. “I can promise you that I am nothing like my father. Crowley is an evil man with evil intentions, who sold me off to his enemy to be a broodmare. He thought I would be miserable, pained… angry. Yet, I take great pleasure in the fact that his plan has so far backfired, and I’ve come to find a wonderful, loving man in your brother. Sure, we had our issues, but I think we are of the same mindset.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest and watching you carefully.

“Meaning… neither of us what to help fulfil whatever crap our fathers are plotting. Instead, we want to stop them. End the War. Bring everyone home.”

DEan scoffed. “End the War? Sweetheart, that war is just getting started. Nothing can end it, not even Eve’s monsters killing every last Hunter and Winchester to walk this Earth.”

“We have to try,” Sam spoke up, holding eyes with his brother, then glancing your way. 

“And somehow having a kid is part of that?”

“It's what our fathers want,” you replied and shrugged. “I have no desire to be a mother. I didn’t even know my own. And, my grandmother, as much as she has taught me, wasn’t exactly a stellar role model.”

“So why the push towards family planning?”

Sam shrugged. “That’s what we are trying to figure out.”

Dean got quiet and began to slowly pace around the room. His hand thoughtfully rubbed at his mouth and down his chin. He didn’t look at you or Sam at all, but kept his focus on the floor in front of him. After a few moments, he stopped in his tracks and shook his head, as if to clear its thoughts.

“Could that be what they are doing?” he whispered as a question, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was directed to him or if Dean was talking to himself. “God I hope that’s not what she was talking about…” he trailed off, clearing not speaking to Sam now. 

“Dean? What are you talking about?” Sam asked. 

If Dean heard his question, he ignored it. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Can’t be… John would never…”

“Dean… dad would never, what?”

Dean’s piercing green eyes met with Sam’s then slowly made their way to you. “Sammy, I don’t… the things I heard on the battlefield… I doubt they’re true. But, still.”

“What is it, Dean?” Sam asked, both his impatience and temper starting to rise. “Tell me!”

“I think Dad and Crowley want to sacrifice your child to Eve.”

Series Tags: @theplaid-wearingmoose / @zombiewerewolfqueen / @silkiechicken / @collette04 / @katiecurls75 / @death-unbecomes-you / @colie87 / @roxytheimmortal / @klanceiscannon14 / @voltage-my2dlove /  @flamencodiva / @xhannahbananax03

Sam Winchester:  @buckyscrystalqueen / @unabashedsoul97

SPN (all): @wings-of-a-raven / @negans-wife / @kazosa / @deans-baby-momma / @hobby27 / @breereadsthings / @maddiepants / @sorenmarie87 / @screechingartisancashbailiff / @winchesterxfamilybusiness / @spnhollis / @unlikelygalaxyiver / @linki-locks11 / @stoneyggirl / @clarinette07 / @lefthologramdeer / @destielhoneybee / @faughnphotography / @katehuntington / @81mysteriouslyme / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @deathofmissjackson / @lauravic / @akshi8278 / @rebelminxy / @idreamofplaid / @fictionalabyss / @blackcherrywhiskey / @his-paradox​ / @closetspngirl​

All Tag Lists are open! If you want to jump on any of these lists, send me an ask with your choice and I will happily add you!

[byeoltoyuki]

Pretend ⇾  JJK

Pairing : You x Jungkook

Genre : Fluff / f2l

Words : +4k

Summary : In which Jungkook is your stupid best friend and to who you don’t know how to say no. 

                                                  ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

You paused at your door, torn between the wish to ignore the person behind it (just because you had a feeling it was a rather annoying friend of yours) and to be a good friend and actually open it. You chewed on your cheek before sighing in defeat as the banging at your door was getting louder and louder (and you decided to have mercy on your poor neighbors who didn’t ask to be disturbed by a crazy young man).

With a strong pull at the handle you opened the door widely, ready to share a piece of your mind at the person behind the noise. Just like you expected, Jungkook was behind all the noise. He stopped his arm mid-air, just on time before hitting you as he was about to knock (bang) at the door one more time.

"You’re-"

"I can’t believe she’s back in town!" Jungkook yelled and walked past you as if he owned the place and didn’t need your permission to come in (he didn’t but you wanted to be a jerk, especially when it came to him).

You blinked, staring at the empty spot where Jungkook was supposed to stay before letting another long and tired sigh out. You closed the door behind you and turned to face an all too chatty Jungkook.

"Can you believe it?!" He exclaimed rather dramatically before halting and looking at you. "She called me like we were still friends!" He threw his arms in the air in despair and anger.

"Hello to you too sunshine. I’m fine and you?" You completely ignored his sudden outburst, deciding that it was best to remind him where he was and that you actually had no clue of what he was talking about.

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something but then closed it almost immediately. So maybe he was a little bit too dramatic and forgot about his manners. However, instead of actually answering to your snarky remark (he learnt long ago that it was a bad idea anyway) he eyed you from head to toe only to realize that the black oversized sweater looked all too familiar. He quirked a brow at you and pointed with an accusing finger at you. "Is it mine?"

You shrugged and walked past him. "You forgot it last time, now it’s mine."

"Thief!" He accused you, ready to fight you to get back his sweater.

"Yeah yeah. You’ll need to take it off me. And just for your information I have nothing under so think twice." You warned him and slumped back on the couch, stretching your legs fully on the couch and leaving no room for another person. "Beer is in the fridge."

Jungkook chuckled in defeat, there was nothing he could do against you, you had won one more time. He followed your suggestion and grabbed a beer from the fridge before joining you on the couch. You raised your legs to let him sit before putting them right on top of him. "Y/N!" He nudged your legs playfully but you ignored his attempt and he gave up after only one protest.

"What! It’s the least you can do after being so rude!" You protested before quickly adding, "And you’re drinking my beer."

"Why am I even friends with you again?"

"I don’t know. I’ve been wondering the same thing for three years."

"Meanie."

"Love you too shithead."

The answer laid probably in your own answer. You had met Jungkook in college, bonding almost instantly after you had punched him right in the face after he touched your butt at a party. It was love at first sight in a way you could say, except you weren’t lovers but best friends. Till this day it was still a mystery at how exactly you bonded but you did. Partying together, studying together (because despite all the parties you still needed to graduate), playing games together. It came as a surprised to your friends that someone like Jungkook and someone like you became friends, if not best friends. But despite all your snarky remarks, all your bickering, Jungkook was a friend you cherished and would probably die for (though you thanked god he didn’t ask for that, yet).

Resigned, Jungkook rested his arms on you and took a sip of your beer.

"So? What was it about?" You asked without looking at him, pretending to be half interested in the movie instead of him.

"What?"

"Someone being in town!" You rolled your eyes at him.

Jungkook scrunched his nose in half disgust. "Right. Soyeon is back in town and she had the nerves to call me!"

"What did she want? Wasn’t she the one who left you anyway?"

You were being only honest because it was common knowledge that the boy who used to fuck around got finally dumped by the girl he supposedly fell in love with. You knew you should feel bad for him, it was your duty as a good friend, except you felt the relationship wouldn’t last from the moment he introduced you to her. Soyeon wasn’t a bad girl, quite the opposite. You appreciated her; she was ambitious, had her beliefs and was too mature compare to Jungkook. And no matter how much Jungkook thought he loved her, it wasn’t enough.

Jungkook pinched your leg in return, upset. "Shut up! I didn’t get dumped!"

"Sure. Whatever floats your boat." But Soyeon being back in town didn’t exactly explain his sudden urge to disturb your peaceful Sunday night. "And then? What happened?"

To your biggest surprise, Jungkook didn’t answer your question, he even refused to look at you, his eyes glued to your TV while his grip on his beer tightened, knuckles turning white before looking nervously at you. "Fuck, I told her we were dating."

Your mind turned completely blank, your brain refused to comprehend  his simple words. But then, it hit you hard; you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning and kicking him hard for his stupidity.

"Jeon Jungkook. You’re an idiot!"

"I panicked!" He defended himself, trying to stop you from kicking him again. "She wanted to see me and I told her my girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy about it."

"The hell! You just could have told her that you didn’t want to see her."

"I know, I know. I’m sorry."

You threw the closest cushion at him that he caught before it could hit him (damn Jeon Jungkook and his good reflexes). You huffed before changing your position, sitting on the couch and facing him. Another insult on the tip of your tongue before you realized something. "Did she even believe you?"

"I’m not sure." Jungkook rubbed his neck, suddenly feeling tired and a tiny bit stupid. "Probably not."

You shook your head, desperate, yet a tiny bit amused with the outcome of this conversation. He should have known, Soyeon was a smart girl, she knew Jungkook, she knew you and she definitely knew your friendship.

"I guess she won’t find out the truth anyway." You finally said and relaxed for your own sake. This boy had a bad habit of giving you headaches which made you judge your poor choice in terms of friends.

Jungkook agreed on that and took another sip of his beer, thinking that the confrontation didn’t go as bad as he had imagined.

"Hey Y/N." He started, "Can you pretend to be my girlfriend if I need it?"

"No." You answered without batting an eye.

"Oh come on! I’m a nice guy. And hot." You kicked him again for that but before you could remove your leg, he grabbed your ankle, staring intensely at you. "Don’t even try lying. You know I’m hot."

He was, you weren’t blind. But apart from being hot, Jungkook had a huge ego and there was no way in the world you would boost it (he had other girls for that).

Seeing that you weren’t responding, he pulled at your leg, making you fall on your back with a shriek, completely taken off guard. Jungkook took advantage of the situation by crawling on top of you, hands on each side of your head, trapping you under him. He smirked proudly.

"So, what do you say?" He asked again, face nearing yours.

It was so like him to use his strength to his advantage, making sure you had no other choice but either kick him in the balls or accept your defeat. You were truly annoyed and was just about to share a piece of your mind - you didn’t. Your senses got suddenly overwhelmed with the way he looked at you, cute wrinkles around his eyes as he was smiling at you,

You were annoyed, ready to kick him in the balls, and yet having him hovering over you, being suddenly so dominant, did something to you. God Y/N you need to get laid. You slapped yourself mentally to clear your mind and regain control over your body.

"I’m not sure my boyfriend would be too happy about it."

"What?!" Jungkook almost jumped from the couch as if you had burnt him. He put some space between you, looking at you in disbelief. "What boyfriend? When? Who?"

Too gullible, you wanted to say but he bit you at it by how fast his expression changed, going from awfully confused to extremely offended.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" He sounded genuinely upset. "I’m your best friend. We don’t hide this kind of thing from each other!" Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you.

It was too much for your to handle; even in his annoyance he still managed to look endearing. You stood up and cupped his face between your hands, smiling fondly at your dummy-adorable best friend (who would even believe that he used to be a fuckboy if they saw him like that). You squished his cheeks, laughing at his cute face.

"Stop it." He tried to say and yet he didn’t try to stop you.

"Aren’t you cute when you’re sulking?" You teased him some more, clearly enjoying his misery.

"Y/N."

"Fine." You let go of him but not without squishing his face one more time.

Jungkook sighed in relief (making sure to hide the fact that he actually enjoyed your annoyingly endearing behavior). "So. Who’s this guy?"

A dashing smile spread on your face at his question. You would probably regret your decision later but you couldn’t ignore Jungkook. "You are apparently."

"You-" He started, confused and not believing his ears. Instead of finishing his sentence, he wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you from the floor, he spun you around, too excited with your decision.

"You’re the best." Jungkook put you back on the floor but didn’t completely let go of you. He trapped your face between his warm, big hands and kissed your forehead - you punched him in the stomach for that.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Nothing could please you more than a good party on a Friday night after work. So when Jimin suggested to reunite your whole group of friends, you said yes right away.

"Are you sure about this Park?" You pointed at Jimin with your shooter of vodka, letting him a chance out of his stupid challenge. Some things just never change. Jimin, after three years of friendship, still challenged you from time to time to see who would get drunk first.

"Are you scared Y/N?" He wiggled his brows playfully at you.

"Last time I checked you're the one who loses to me almost every single time. I was being nice to you but since you want to get wasted." You shrugged and emptied your shooter as if it was water, signaling the beginning of this challenge.

Jimin emptied his just as quickly, ready to grab the next shooter that he had prepared for this special challenge. He would not let you win this time, he swore to himself.  

You smirked and grabbed your second shooter, emptying it in one go - Jimin followed.

The night was still young and it was a bad idea to start the party with a stupid challenge but you couldn't just say no to Jimin, not when he so shamelessly provoked you. There was no way you would let him win. Not now, not ever and especially not tonight when you felt so good.

Except sometimes plans just wouldn't go as you planned, especially when Jeon Jungkook was involved.

You had lost Jungkook among Jimin's guests, not minding it a tiny bit, it wouldn't be the first time that you would come together and part the moment you got inside.

Jungkook grabbed your wrist, stopping you from emptying your fourth shooter and forced you to stand up and face him. You were ready to snap at him with some nasty remarks if it wasn't for his lips shutting you before any words could even leave your lips. You blinked confused by the sudden kiss that came from nowhere (and even more confused by the fact that Jungkook's lips felt actually nice).

"Jungkook-" You tried to put some space between you but he was quick to react, putting a hand behind your neck, he pressed his lips harder against you, biting on your lower lip to make you part your lips. To your utter surprise, your body reacted on its own, responding, letting him slid his tongue easily, deepening the kiss.

It was new, unexpected on so many levels. Despite knowing Jungkook for three years, never had you imagined kissing him. Some would say you were crazy, spending so much time with him and never trying something but Jungkook was just this dork, the guy who would act all cocky before people and then be a good boy with his close one. So why would you consider kissing him? But now that you were finally crossing the line, it didn't feel as bad as you thought.

Sighing in defeat, you circled your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair, you kissed him back eagerly. Maybe you would regret it later but for now your mind was just as busy as you were, enjoying the feeling of Jungkook’s lips against yours, tongue ravishing your mouth. You pulled at his hair, making him groan against your lips, you pressed yourself harder against him, wanting to feel more of him.

Out of breath, Jungkook was the one to break the kiss, yet he pressed his forehead against yours, keeping you close.

You realized, for the first time ever, that being so close to him and seeing him breathless was hot and sexy as hell. Now, those weren’t the right thoughts to have about your best friend but you couldn’t stop it.

"Jungkook?" Another time you would have probably made a snarky remark or worse, punched him. But tonight, apart from the fact that he looked too good to be real, something was bothering him because Jeon Jungkook would never risk to kiss you if he held to his life. Or balls.

"She’s here." He whispered, making sure that not Jimin or any of your friends could hear you (not like they could anyway considering the noise).

You chose to answer him with a peck on his lips, followed quickly by another on his nose. If Jungkook was surprised, he didn’t show it.

"Get a room!" Jimin interrupted your moment, smirking knowingly at you.

"Are you jealous, Jimin?" You teased back, unfazed with his attempt to annoy you.

You took Jungkook’s hand and pulled him with you, making sure to keep him close to you. You didn’t look for Soyeon, so far, you didn’t even care if she was really somewhere among the others.

Jungkook took his seat beside you, thighs brushing yours, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before returning your attention to a very amused Jimin.

"Am not." Jimin answered. His eyes, however, darted back and forth between your face and your intertwined hands before stopping at your very exposed cleavage. "Though, maybe a little."

"Sorry babe, those," You put your hands on your breasts, "Are not for you."

"You truly are breaking my heart, cupcake." Jimin put his hand over his chest, feigning being heartbroken.

"I see you’re still as dramatic as ever, Jimin." Soyeon joined you with a glass or wine, smiling at you.

"Soyeon!" Jimin beamed happily, he jumped from his place to give her a warm hug.

Jungkook tensed by your side. You put your hand on his thigh to make him realize that he wasn’t alone and that you wouldn’t leave him in the mess he had created.

"I’m glad you could make it." Jimin wrapped an arm around her shoulders and turned her to face you.

"Long time no see Y/N, Jungkook." Soyeon greeted you with her pretty smile.

She hadn’t changed a bit, you thought. Still the same sweet smile, still as charming and cute.

"Welcome back I guess." You finally spoke which made Soyeon stare a little too intensely at both you and Jungkook. Not like you didn’t expect it and not like you could really blame her.

"I must admit," Soyeon started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "When Jungkook told me you were dating, I had a hard time believing it."

"Don’t worry. I didn’t even know they were dating." Jimin commented and glared at you.

You decided that Jimin had a death wish. You adored Jimin but you wouldn’t mind strangling him right now. Thing you couldn’t do, sadly.

When you saw Soyeon raising a brow at you, you decided to save the situation before it was too late. "Why would we tell you we’ve been hooking up for a while?"

"Are you kidding-"

"Jimin. I adore you, but you and I know that if we had told you, the whole world would have known too."

Jimin slumped back into his seat, sulking, before running his fingers through his hair - you had a point. "Damn. I know I teased you a lot about your relationship with Jungkook but."

"I know. We didn’t see it coming either." You shrugged

While you were talking, Jungkook was lost in his own world, eyes glued on your face. His heart pounded hard in his chest as you lied so easily for him, so naturally. You were a good actress and he was lucky to have you by his side. But listening to you made him realize that he wished some of your words were true. Before he could stop himself, he took a strand of your hair between his fingers, playing with it, without thinking of what people could think about it.

Whatever you were about to say vanished the moment Jungkook touched you; you instantly turned your face to look at him, only to see him grinning at you.

"You’re disgusting." Jimin groaned

"They’re cute." You heard Soyeon commenting and if you weren’t so lost in Jungkook’s eyes, you would have shared a piece of your mind too.

Jungkook couldn’t resist, he leaned closer, hands on your face as he claimed your lips. A gentle and terribly sweet brush of his lips that made your heart skip a beat.

Shit.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Like any other human being, you had made mistakes. Some cost you a lot, some were silly, but the thing with Jungkook? It was a whole new level of mistakes. Or dumb shit you had done.

You should have known from the start that agreeing to his idea was a bad thing. But the whole kissing thing? It left a rather unwelcome taste. You wanted more.

And maybe wearing his sweater wasn’t such a great idea either, it only made you think about his stupid face, his stupidly attractive face.

You grabbed the cushion beside you and hid your face, muffling a scream of frustration. Where were those feelings coming from?

A knock at your door made you straighten up too fast on the couch. You were almost tempted to pretend that you weren’t at home. Almost. Your body made the decision for you by moving on its own toward the door. Your heart was pounding hard against your ribs, excited and scared at the same time to see who decided to interrupt you oh not so boring night.

Jungkook was of course the culprit. Except this time he knocked only twice and didn’t wake the whole neighborhood up.

"Hi." Your voice cracked lamely. You wished the floor could swallow you whole.

Jungkook stayed oddly quiet, not commenting it. He eyed you, raising a brow as you were once again wearing his sweater. Another time and if he wasn’t so annoyed with your last messages, he would have teased you, but now he simply bit his lip.

"Jungkook?" He had you worried, he was way too calm to be the Jeon Jungkook.

"Can I come in?"

"What?" You asked completely taken aback. "Since when do you ask for permission?"

He sighed. "Can I?"

You moved from the way, opening the door wider for him to come in. You had an uneasy feeling about Jungkook’s sudden calmness that was so out of his character (especially around you). Should I worry?

You closed the door behind you and followed him to the main room. Jungkook stood in the middle, his back facing you, hands in his pockets, but his posture told you he was tensed.

"Jungkook?"

He still didn’t answer you, too lost in his own thoughts. And yet, he turned around to look at you, eyes darker than ever, frowning, almost as if you had wronged him in some kind of way and you sure as hell felt like it.

"Were you serious?" Jungkook finally asked

"He talks!" To what he rolled his eyes. "About what?" You actually had a tiny idea of what he was talking about but a part of you refused to believe that he came just because of your message.

"About regretting that night at Jimin’s party."

So it is about it.

"Well. It was a bad idea from the beginning and now Jimin is upset we left him out." You lied. Jimin wasn’t that upset, he whined for about thirty minutes about how terrible of a friend you were, but apart from that he didn’t care. You, however, couldn’t honestly admit to Jungkook that what bothered you was not his plan and even less Jimin’s opinion, but how you felt after kissing him. Jungkook was your friend you sure as hell made clear to never think of him any other way.

"So it’s only because of Jimin?" He didn’t sound convince and frankly you weren’t either.

"Yes."

Jungkook took his hands out of his pockets and took a step towards you. "I don’t believe you." He halted right before you, towering you and looking (you had to admit it) quite intimidating. And hot.

"You should."

"Then, it had nothing to do with the kiss?"

Your heart missed a beat. You clenched your fist, nails digging into your flesh as you tried hard not to show just how affected you were. "It was for the show. I thought we established that."

"You felt nothing?"

You shouldn’t be hesitating to answer that, but you did. "Nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

You didn’t answer to confirm a second time. Jungkook hummed and closed his eyes for a second before looking back at you. "So if I kiss you again you will slap me?" He touched your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. "Won’t you?"

You inhaled sharply, unable to formulate any answer, unable to think straight, you were completely lost in his touch and the way he looked at you made it worse.

Jungkook smirked at your lack of reaction and instead of waiting for an answer he decided to take the risk and try his theory. His hand left your cheek only to lift your chin with a finger, he leaned in to capture your lips.

There it was again. The same spark you had previously felt. A spark that you hadn’t felt for a long time (and you certainly didn’t expect to feel it with him). Your insides melted at the simple, gentle touch of his lips.

"You lied." He whispered against your lips

You opened your eyes, your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of Jungkook smirking at you, knowing all too well that he was right and you had lost to him.

"Fuck you." You snapped, your arms already around his neck, your lips back against his.

"Gladly."

[lennonsprincess]

Can I request a Ficlet maybe in Paris 1960 just before they got toegther, John and Paul decide to have a wank in the same room like they used to when Paul starts fingering himself and John gets turned on so he comes over and does it for him?

*smut*

John/Paul

John and Paul walked into their hotel room that they had been staying in while in Paris. It was John’s birthday, and they had gone out and explored the city as well as they could, with their lack of knowledge on the French language.

“God I’m tired.” John huffed out, as he flopped down onto their shared single bed.

“Me too...” Paul responded, putting his foot up on the bed to untie his shoes. He looked over at John, who was splayed over the bed, and smiled. Paul placed his shoes at the foot of the bed and sat cross legged beside John.

“So,” Paul said, running his hand across the wrinkles in the bedsheets. “How have you enjoyed you’re birthday so far?”

“It’s been great.” John responded, sitting up and resting his back against the head board. “But I haven’t fucked a good bird in awhile, and I’m getting a bit angsty...” John continued, reaching for his belt buckle.

Paul was caught off guard by that, and gave John a strange look.

“Oh c’mon, Paulie,” John scoffed. “It’s not like we haven’t wanked off in front of each other before, and plus, you must be just as desperate as I am.”

“Well it-“

“Unless you’ve pleasurin’ yourself in secret...” John interrupted, continuing to unzip his pants.

Paul tried to cover up his obvious blush by rolling his eyes. He watched John slip his pants off, and start to palm himself through his underwear. Paul nearly licked his lips but caught himself before he could.

John looked back up at Paul and smirked a bit.

“Well, either take your pants off and join in, or leave. I don’t want you poppin’ a stiffy watching me.” John said, as he watched the already flustered Paul, become even more flustered. Paul did consider leaving, but he could already feel himself becoming more and more aroused, so he thought it would be easiest to get this over with.

Paul quickly started to unbutton his pants, hoping that John wouldn’t notice the slight erection that he already had. John chuckled quietly to himself, noticing how quickly Paul was trying to get his pants off.

“Someone’s eager.” John teased.

“You’re the one making me do this.” Paul shot back.

“I’m not making you do anything.”

Paul didn’t respond, but instead, pulled out his dick, that was nearly fully erect, slightly whimpering at the touch. John raised his eyebrows, and followed, pulling out his half hard cock as well. Paul looked up at John, his eyes widening when he made eye contact with the sight of John’s dick hardening in his hands. Paul closed his eyes and silently cursed himself, when he heard himself let out another small noise.

“What’s the matter, Macca?” John said with a smirk.

“Uh, n-nothing.” Paul quickly replied, trying to make his voice sound deeper.

John chuckled again and began to work his cock, running his fist up and down the length of it, slowly starting to build up speed. Paul followed, but couldn’t help himself from letting out a few whimpers as he looked down at John’s cock once again.

“You make the cutest noises.” John laughs.

Paul felt his face blush ferociously, he was slowly loosing his mind. He felt himself twitch, and a strange urge to touch his ass.

“I- What’s that supposed to mean..?” Paul barely stuttered out.

“I mean... they’re not like grunts and groans, y’know? They’re just like little whimpers and squeaks. It’s cute.” John continued, looking over at Paul to see his reaction. Paul bit his lip hard, trying to keep himself from bringing his fingers to his ass.

“You sound like a bird I’d fuck.”

That was it for Paul.

He gasped as he felt his hand slide in between his ass cheeks, spreading them so he could find his hole. Paul wanted to stop, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t. It was like he was being taken advantage of by his own body. Paul rolled onto his back and spread his legs, keeping his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see the reaction on John’s face. He took his hand off his dick and slowly eased one off his wet fingers into his ass. Whimpering as he felt himself stretch.

“Oh my god, Paul...” John groaned. Paul prepared himself for the storm that was about to come from John.

“You look so hot...”

Paul moaned loudly when he heard John say that, pumping his finger inside him faster, imagining it was John.

Suddenly, Paul felt John shift on the bed, moving closer to Paul. John leaned down to sweaty Paul’s face and whispered,

“God, your so cute... all spread out on you’re fingers.”

Paul whimpered, as he felt John’s breath on the side of his face. He suddenly felt John’s hand trace down his waist, and to his ass, causing Paul to quickly open his eyes.

John looked down at Paul’s fingers, which were buried deep in his ass, then looked back up at Paul, who’s eyes were glazed over with arousal and anticipation.

“Can I...?” John asked quietly.

Paul quickly took his fingers out of his ass and nodded his head eagerly, biting his lip as he looked down at John’s rough large hands, whose fingers would soon be inside him.

John slowly moved his hand down to Paul’s hole, circling a finger around the rim, watching as it clenched around nothing. Paul let out a strangled moan as he felt John finally touch him where he’s longed to be touched for years. Suddenly, John pushed one finger in, making Paul cry out in pleasure, his fingers were a lot bigger than Paul’s. He slowly started to move in and out, searching for a spot that would make Paul scream. Paul squirmed under John’s touch, whimpering each time John pulled his finger out.

“A-add another...” Paul moaned.

“Are you sure?” John said hesitantly.

“Mm yes!” Paul squeaked, as John’s finger found his prostate. “Mm right there!”

John grinned and added another finger, brushing over the sand spot that made Paul shriek.

“You love this, don’t you Paulie? God, you look so hot falling apart on my fingers.” John groaned, as he curled his fingers inside of Paul, causing him to cry out again.

“Oh- god John I’m gonna... cum” Paul whimpered out.

“Do it, baby. Cum from just my fingers...” John said, reaching down to grip his throbbing cock, pumping it as he watched Paul fall apart beneath him.

Paul felt John’s fingers brush against his sweet spot once again, and that sent him over the edge. Screaming out John’s name, as he released his cum all over his stomach.

“Oh... Paul, Mmm” John moaned, cumming right along with Paul.

John pulled his fingers out of Paul, wiping them on his thigh. John pulled his boxers back up, and crawled up to Paul. He laid down next him, and brought his thumb to Paul’s chin, turning his head to face him. John gazed at Paul, and brought a hand to his hair, moving his fringe out of his eyes.

“Hey.” John whispered.

Paul smiled.

“Hey.”

[toosicktoocare]

prompt:  Hiiìì! I heard you're taking prompts 💙💙💙 could you write one where the Avengers are on a mission and like are purely relying on Peter's super senses. So just post mission he gets super overloaded and fluff with Irondad? Thanks ✌✌💙💙💙

So I actually ADORE this prompt because it feels fresh and different. Thank you @spideygirl2003​ for the amazing prompt!

“What do you have, kid?”

The tingle brushing against the back of Peter’s skull feels like a small, electric jolt that shocks his limbs into whatever direction or stance needed to keep him safe. He chases the sharp sense until he’s pointing toward another closed door in the long hallway.

“Three armed men behind that door.” He shakes his hands out as if to rid his limbs of the pulsing urge to act against the threat of danger.

For this mission, he’s been asked to accompany Tony, Steve, and Clint to infiltrate a rather large enemy base that’s keeping a few innocent bystanders who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time hostage. Tony’s logic is that the enemies are expecting some big, showy attack, so to counter their expectations, he pulled together a small team and announced they would solely utilize Peter’s Spider-Sense to quietly but effectively force their way to the hostages.

“Cap, plow in first and shield Clint while he attacks from behind. Keep it quiet.” Tony whispers the orders before he knocks quietly on the door, as he’s been doing with all of the other doors, and steps to the side, jerking Peter back with him away from pending gun fire.

As soon as the door opens, Cap charges in wordlessly, and Clint fires off arrows from behind. The whole attack takes seconds, but it’s still long enough to have Peter’s limbs burning against an urge to fire off webs. He grits his teeth from behind his mask and gives a small shake of his head.

“Nice work, gentlemen,” Tony says as he enters the room, eyes scanning every square inch for any hint of the hostages’ whereabouts.

Peter follows Tony in, and the second he crosses into the room, the tingle at the back of his skull jolts almost painfully, and he spins toward a bookcase leaning against a small section of the wall. His limbs are moving toward it carefully, muscles chasing the electricity that’s sparking hard at the sense of danger. He studies the bookcase with a frown, and when his eyes fall to a barrel of a gun from a small hole in the back of the bookcase, he gasps, muscles pulsing.

“Shit,” is all he manages out before he jumps back and webs the hole, preventing the bullet from entering the room. “They know we’re here,” Peter informs, brows furrowed as all four turn toward the shaking bookcase.

“Well,” Tony says with a shrug. “We made it, what,” he pauses, glancing toward a clock on the wall, “two hours before they realized we were here.”

“Peter, get behind me,” Steve orders, shield raised and ready to defend, and Peter obeys. His muscles are trembling like mad. His Spider-Sense is going haywire, and he can’t fully peg why until gun fire starts raining down on them from the ceiling and all four walls.

Instantly, he’s shooting webs at the walls and ceiling to provide a barrier while Tony, Steve, and Clint work to take down the many men barreling into the room and shooting.

“Peter, fall back! Get the hell out of here!”

Tony’s tone is sharp, demanding, aware that Peter’s ability doesn’t always do as well in super close combat, and Peter spares a hesitant glance before he webs a few men together and flips out of the room. He starts running toward the exit, but then he feels a faint jolt that has him turning around with a frown.

He lets his muscles lead, and he starts sprinting down the hall and up six flights of stairs until he’s standing in front a a single door at the top of the enemies base. The back of his skull is burning, and his muscles are going stiff, as if bracing for battle.

“The hostages,” he mutters, sensing their fear.

“Peter, did I not tell you to get the hell out of this building? Why is Karen patching your location, which is very much still in the damn building, to me?”

Tony’s voice is breathless yet furious in Peter’s ear.

“You said ‘get out of here,’ which isn’t very specific, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid, now is not the time to sass--”

“--I found the hostages,” Peter interrupts. “There’s only two men guarding them. I can get them out.”

“Peter, don’t you--”

Peter cuts the link and knocks on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Um,” Peter starts, “pizza delivery?”

Peter’s already got his hands raised when the door slams open. He kicks the gun out of the hand of the man in front of him while he webs the gun from the man further in the room to a wall. After, his fists are flying, webs are shooting from his wrists, and he’s dodging multiple hits while his muscles follow the Spider-Sense jolting throughout his body.

He takes a few hits, but he’s soon able to knock out both men and web them in separate corners. He turns to the hostages, gently pulling the tape from their mouths. There’s a woman, a young girl, and a young man close to his age. “Are you hurt?” he asks the three, and relief swells in his chest when they shake their heads.

He turns his comm link back on, wincing at the loud shouting and cursing that crackles into his ear.

“Peter, so help me! If I find your dead body, I will resurrect you myself and personally kick your ass for being so unbelievably reckless--”

"The hostages are safe,” Peter interrupts as he helps each one to their feet.

“And you?”

Peter smiles softly at Steve’s concern. “I’m okay, Cap.” He leads the hostages out of the room, and instantly, it feels as if all energy is drained from his body. He ignores his protesting muscles and the dull throb at the back of his skull and stays on guard despite his Spider-Sense being quiet for the first time in almost three hours.

When he meets up with the others, Tony gives him a full once over but says nothing. Peter knows he’s in for a lecture, but he kind of just wants to crawl into bed and sleep the gnawing exhaustion away.

“Hawkeye and I can escort the hostages to a hospital,” Steve starts. “Just in case.”

They part ways. Peter follows Tony toward his car, where Happy’s waiting outside, leaning against the car with his arms crossed.

“I would say good job,” Happy starts as soon as Tony abandons his Iron Man suit and Peter slips off his mask, “but I have a feeling there’s going to be a lecture coming. Damn, kid. What did you do this time?”

“Save the hostages,” Peter mumbles at the same time as Tony barks out “disobey my orders.”

Tony slams the door, and Peter meets Happy’s eyes. They share a silent conversation before Happy claps a large hand on his shoulder.

“Hop in, kid. You look beat.”

Peter slides into the backseat beside Tony, and for the next fifteen minutes, Tony growls out how dangerous and reckless he was and how he could have been killed. Peter’s heard it all before, so he only lays his head against the glass as Tony shouts at him.

His whole body feels sore. He’s not used to utilizing his Spider-Senses for long periods of time. It takes a lot out of him, yet his heart is racing in his chest. He’s bone tired, but his heart and mind are still on edge, as if waiting for another jolt down the back of his neck. He’s familiar with the feeling of his mind and body being at war as he comes down from an adrenaline high, but he’s not used to it being this bad. He sighs and rubs a shaking hand at the back of his neck, unaware that Tony’s stopped yelling and Happy’s stopped the car.

“Peter, look at me.”

The urgency in Tony’s tone has Peter lifting his head with a frown. “Mr. Stark?” He looks past Tony out the window to see Stark Tower. “Oh,” he says softly. “We’re back.”

“Peter, what’s going on with you?” Tony’s taken on a worried tone. “Did you hit your head?”

“No.”

“Are you hiding being sick again?” Tony fires out sharply as he smooths a palm across Peter’s forehead. He finds the skin cool to the touch, and he slides his hand down to Peter’s neck, two fingers pressing against the indent by Peter’s collar bone as he silently counts heartbeats.

“How is your heat beating like a damn jackhammer, yet you look like you’re about to keel over?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter moves away from Tony’s hand and slides out of the car. He can see Happy watching him, but he ignores it, fingers curling tightly into his mask as he starts toward the steps.

“Peter,” Tony jogs to keep up with him, and he stops in front of the kid, noting how Peter looks pale, worn out, yet his pupils are dilated, and his jaw is clenched.

“Kid, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m,” Peter starts, sighing lowly, “I’m just overloaded, Mr. Stark.”

“Overloaded,” Tony repeats slowly, his mind dissecting the word letter by letter. “What do you mean?”

“My Spider-Sense,” Peter starts, shoulders slumping. This isn’t something he’s ever wanted to tell anyone because he doesn’t want everyone to put a handicap on him. “Sometimes when I use it too much, it’s hard to come down from it. It’s like,” he pauses, raking his fingers through his hair, “physically, I’m exhausted because my muscles are acting on whatever the Spider-Sense tells them, but mentally, it’s hard shut everything back off.” Without meaning to, his hand finds the back of his neck. “I can still feel a hint of a tingle, and it just takes a while for my body to even itself out.”

“You’ve never told me--”

“--by choice,” Peter interrupts around his fifth sigh in minutes. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. I just don’t want you, or anyone, to think I’m weak.”

Tony’s expression fills in multiple emotions back to back, but he finally turns on his heel and starts toward the tower. “Go get washed up then meet me in the lounge, okay?”

Frowning, Peter tilts his head in quiet question, but he obliges, and after twenty minutes, he’s shuffling into the lounge, pulling a NASA hoodie over his head as he walks into the room.

“Mr. Stark, what’s--” his words fall flat off his tongue as he takes in the multiple blankets splayed across the couch and the cup of steaming tea on the coffee table. He looks to Tony with a frown. “What’s, um, up, Mr. Stark?”

“I don’t know how to you help you with feeling overloaded,” Tony starts, motioning toward the couch from his spot on the recliner. “But, I can offer you comfort, safety, and,” he pauses, pressing play on the remote, “Star Wars.”

Peter slowly takes a seat on the couch, pulling a blanket around his shoulders before he leans forward and snags his tea. He takes a sip, relishing in the comforting heat, and leans back against the couch cushions as if molding his body to the couch. Already, he can feel his heart rate lowering, and the pain at the back of his skull is starting to subside. He feels safe-- he knows that Tony will ensure that nothing bad ever happens to him.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he says, looking toward the older man with a smile.

Tony meets his eyes, and Peter’s smile falls to a small frown at Tony’s furrowed brows.

“Really, Mr. Stark. This is already starting to work--”

“You know that I don’t know a single person who thinks you’re weak, right? Myself included.”

“I know--”

“Then I don’t ever want you to keep something from me out of fear that you will be perceived as weak. Got it?”

Peter nods slowly, and when Tony relaxes back against the recliner and turns toward the movie, Peter does the same, feeling relief swell around his steady heart.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Writing Commission - memories were made to be forgotten (but you weren’t)

Hello! Back at it again with another writing commission I did - and this one is for Danny Phantom and Father Time (which is father/son Danny and Clockwork). I hope you guys enjoy it! (Dear Danny Phantom Truce Partner, I promise I will get you story finished soon, please don’t hate me.) 

                                                             ⁂

Summary: Danny Fenton was friends with a ghost named Clockwork; a ghost that could control time. It sounded cool, when he thought about it, but the problem was that Danny had absolutely no memory of ever being friends with a ghost. He may have been fourteen, and, admittedly, yes, he had gotten himself zapped by his parent’s Ghost Portal last week, but he wasn’t an idiot. Who actually believed someone when they told them they had amnesia, after all?

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Relationship: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom & Clockwork

Characters: Danny Fenton | Danny Phantom, Clockwork

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 3,472

Transaction Amount: $10 (USD)

                   memories were made to be forgotten (but you weren’t)

                                                              ⁂

Danny Fenton had, like every bored teenager before him who had too much free time during study hall, daydreamed unlikely possible scenario after unlikely possible scenario to try and alleviate at least some boredom until it was time for lunch. Nowhere in his daydreamed scenarios, however, had Danny imagined that he would be held captive by a ghost called the Master of Time who claimed that Danny had amnesia and that they were actually ‘good friends.’ Danny may not have been the top of his class, but he had seen basic safety videos like every other fourth grader. 

He had also been brought up on his parents and their research and stories and knew how dangerous ghosts, and anything associated with them, could be. Danny had learned that well enough last week after his parents’ Ghost Portal and his… accident with it. He hadn’t gotten in trouble for it, though, and he was perfectly healthy, so he was taking that as a win! 

No, the real trouble for him was the fact that he was facing down a ghost after waking up somewhere he had never seen before with absolutely no memory of why he was there or what he was doing or what was going on. His parents, his sister, his friends, absolutely no one was nearby, so that left Danny to try and bullshit his way out of the situation as best he could because otherwise he was probably going to be the next ghost his parents studied. 

“Look, man, I’m not saying I don’t believe you, here, but…” There was absolutely no way Danny believed a single word out of the ghost’s mouth. Really, though? Him? Friends with a ghost who claimed to be able to control time? As if. “Look, it’s, uh, it’s cool, and all, I guess, to know that ghosts are real, but are you sure you don’t want to talk to my parents or something about all of this?”

“Well,” the ghost said – ‘Clockwork’ he had said his name was, which, right, totally fake name. “At least you haven’t lost all of your memories… Can you tell me the last thing you remember, Daniel?”

Danny immediately made a face, because Daniel, before shaking his head, denial and a refusal to answer anything at the tip of his tongue before he paused and thought that maybe arguing with a ghost wasn’t the best of ideas. He would just have to comply until his parents rescued him, although… It could take them a while to notice he was missing… 

Gathering his thoughts and shoving down his panic with enough force to make him feel exhausted already, Danny crossed his arms. “I remember I was just sitting in my room, er, doing homework, and then suddenly I wake up here.” At least, if anyone asked him he had been doing his homework. “You know. Kidnapped. And in danger-”

“Daniel, if I wanted to harm you then you would already be dead.” That was supposed to reassure him?! “The fact that you are here, unharmed and not even bound, should, at the very least, dissuade you from the idea that you’ve been abducted, yes?” Oh, god, this ghost was worse than his sister. 

“Yeah, so, uh, I understood all of those words separately and junk, but-” Danny cut himself off as he saw the ghost moving towards him. Danny’s immediate reaction was to raise his arms, squeeze his eyes shut, and pray for a miracle, but instead he felt his body move before he could even think, rapidly stepping back and to the side and dropping into one of the defensive positions that he half-remembered his mom maybe teaching him years and years ago. 

The ghost stared at him, looking as caught off guard as Danny felt before he was moving back and away from him, looking at him curiously and oh, god, Danny hated when people looked at him like that. It meant they were studying him. Maybe Danny could pretend he was just… stretching? 

Before he could rush to defend himself with an excuse, though, Clockwork made a soft, curious noise, “Only the memories, then, but not the instincts…” Oh, god, Danny was in a horror movie about to be sacrificed or cut to ribbons, wasn’t he? 

After dropping his… whatever he had been doing, Danny moved jerkily a few feet away, at least getting a piece of furniture between them as if that would help matters. “Look, just… what do you even need me for?” 

“Ah, I had wondered if that paranoia of yours was developed or innate.” Was- Was the ghost taking shots at him after kidnapping him? What a jerk. Danny would be so glad when someone showed up with some kind of plan to get him out of there - hopefully soon. “If you’ll recall, I informed you that we have a positive relationship and you have amnesia. It’s safest for you here-” 

“Why would it be safe here and not with my family?! Or in a hospital?!” Actually, Danny should definitely be in a hospital if he had amnesia or something, so the fact he wasn’t meant this ghost was definitely lying. “No offense, but I’m not a big fan of believing in something that’s obviously a lie. Now let me go.” 

The last few words echoed for a few seconds, Danny trying to keep his glare up as mentally he panicked because what had just happened with his voice? Instead of even so much as cracking, which Danny admitted, at least to himself, sometimes happened when he was emotional, his voice sounded like it had gotten deeper and it sounded… menacing. Like Danny could actually back up whatever threats he made - a good thing, but also a weird thing. 

“Daniel,” Clockwork sighed, sharp and tired, as he met his gaze with a frown, moving forward again. “I only have your best interests in mind.” The ghost hadn’t even fully finished talking before Danny was scrambling back and grasping at something - anything - to protect himself because he was suddenly filled with the overwhelming urge that words like that only came before pain and- 

It was as sudden and shocking as the Fenton portal had been, Danny feeling like the breath had been stolen straight from his lungs as ice crawled through his veins, something in him building and building before snapping out, Danny staring with wide eyes at the sudden dome-shaped wall of green that appeared between him and the ghost who looked as surprised as he did. 

“Well, I suppose that’s proof enough that your memories were merely suppressed instead of erased altogether,” Clockwork said cheerfully, as if Danny hadn’t just- Just- He didn’t know! Danny didn’t know what he had done, but suddenly there was this thing between him and Clockwork and Danny somehow knew, with everything in him, that he had caused it and how had he done that? “Daniel…?”

“I just…” Danny stared at the green-tinged ghost, just on the other side of the shield, or wall, or something that Danny had made. “I… What did I just do?” 

Looking down at his hands, because he somehow really had done that, Danny froze at seeing he was wearing gloves where a second ago there had been nothing. What’s more, he realized, the gloves were a pure, bright white that looked to be glowing and, after twitching his fingers, Danny realized they were his hands. They also weren’t the only thing that had changed. 

While Danny didn’t exactly have a mirror to look in, he didn’t need one to see that everything he was wearing was different. Whereas before he had been wearing jeans and one of his shirts, now he was wearing what looked like one of his parent’s hazmat suits only it was pure black with white boots and it, like the gloves, were glowing a soft white. 

“What…” Danny swallowed sharply, looking back up at the green thing he had made that slowly seemed to fizzle out and fade away to reveal Clockwork staring at him as if afraid of him. “What happened to me? What did you do to me?”

Clockwork was silent for a moment - which meant he was thinking up a lie Danny would believe. Well, if Clockwork thought that was gonna work on him, then he had another thing coming because everything was- It was insane. “Daniel… do you remember your parents’ portal and possibly an accident involving it?” 

“I- Hang on, what?” Danny blinked, some of his panic draining out of him at the question that had taken him completely off guard. “How… how did you know about that?” Because no one should have really known about that. Yeah, sure, his family technically knew, but his friends had been the only ones to be there. 

“Well,” Clockwork chuckled, as if Danny wasn’t questioning everything he thought he had known about the world. “I did introduce myself as someone close to you, didn’t I? You’ve talked to me of that incident yourself, Daniel.”

“Yeah, nice try, buddy,” Danny scoffed, shivering as something about his voice sounded wrong. It sounded like it had… echoed. “You-” What was wrong with his voice? “You introduced yourself as the Master of Time. No way you didn’t use some weird ghost power to see what happened yourself because there’s no way I would ever trust a ghost.” 

Clockwork sighed, something fond and amused as if this was all some sort of game to him. “You were very untrusting at this age, weren’t you?” 

Danny felt a spike of anger because was this guy fucking serious?! Danny was stuck in a place that he had never seen and had been kidnapped by a fucking ghost! This was the opposite of just simply being ‘untrusting.’ “If you think for one second that I would ever trust you, then you don’t know me at all.” 

What broke up the suddenly tense silence between them wasn’t Clockwork, but a loud snapping sound that reminded Danny of ice breaking and cracking near the beginning and end of winter. It also sounded like it had come from him, and Danny couldn’t help his startled glance down, eyes wide as he saw that ice had formed around him.

Except… Saying that ice had formed around him seemed too simple. No, instead it looked like it was coming from Danny, ice rapidly spreading out from around his feet as frost climbed up his arms in spirals and loops that almost distracted him from the fact the ice at his feet acted as a mirror. He half wished that it had distracted him completely, but instead Danny was staring down at what was basically a mirror that showed he… didn’t look like Danny Fenton. 

His eyes were flickering between a toxic green color and a bright, icy blue and his hair- His hair was a bright snow white that matched the frost crawling up his arms; frost that was starting to spiral and wrap around his shoulders and sides.

“I’m…” The glow around him wasn’t from the suit, Danny realized slowly, and then all at once; as bad things always were. “I’m a…” It was from him. The glowing, the ice and snow, the shield, all of it had come from him. 

Snapping his head up, Danny looked at Clockwork, hating how his voice came out weak and scared, but unable to help his question of, “Am I dead?”

“What?” Clockwork blinked, as if surprised Danny would ask that and maybe that was why Clockwork thought Danny trusted him if he really had lost his memories; because he was a ghost, too. “No- No, no, no, Daniel, you aren’t dead-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Danny shouted, hating at how the sound was almost a scream more than anything else. “I’m- Look at me! I’m a ghost, and I don’t know what kind of world you’re living in, pal, but if I’m a ghost then I-” 

Danny’s words tangled around a hitch of breath, the realization hitting that… he had died. That was the only explanation as to what had happened to him. He had somehow died and become a ghost and maybe he really had lost his memories or this ghost was just trying to use him, but either way he had died. 

“Daniel.” There was something in Clockwork’s voice, something soft and caring and enticing enough that Danny found himself looking at him before he could realize it. The ghost’s expression matched his voice. “Daniel, if you believe nothing else I say to you, then believe this. You are not dead.” 

“But I’m…” The words died on his tongue, Danny to scared to say them. It was obvious enough what he had been about to say, though, Danny thrusting his hands out as if to emphasize the point. Spirals of frost had near overtaken his body, at that point, and the ice cracked again as it grew more at his feet. For the first time in a very long time Danny realized he was absolutely terrified. 

“You, Daniel James Fenton, are something very different,” Clockwork said gently, floating a few inches closer slowly and gently. “Listen carefully to me?” It sounded like an order as much as it did a request, but something about the way it was said had Danny nodding shakily, latching onto the words as if they could make him stop feeling like he couldn’t breathe- Could he breathe? Did he need to? 

Clockwork nodded back, voice still soft, “Thank you. Now, you don’t have to close your eyes, but it might help with what I’m about to tell you to do. There should be this feeling of warmth in your chest, somewhere close to your heart. Do you feel it?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, hundreds of arguments and words dying in the back of his throat before he shivered as he felt the frost reach the back of his neck. It started to look and feel more like ice than it did frost, and it was terrifying enough that Danny shut his eyes on instinct. 

“Ssh, it’s alright, Daniel. You’re alright.” Years and years of his parents’ lessons screamed at him to not trust a thing the ghost in front of him said, but something deeper had Danny relaxing just the smallest amount, even as he hated himself for it. “Do you feel that warmth?” 

“I…” Danny didn’t open his eyes, terrified at the spreading feeling of ice, but he did try to feel for whatever Clockwork was telling him about. A feeling of warmth near his heart sounded impossible with how cold he felt, but slowly, slowly and surely and deeply, Danny felt something inside of him that he could call nothing but warmth. “I think I do.” 

“Good. That’s good.” Clockwork’s voice was still soft, and something about it made Danny think he was relieved. “I want you to visualize yourself holding that warmth and then clutching it with both hands. Do you think you can do that?” 

He wanted Danny to what? “I- I can try?” Even if nothing happened it was still a distraction from whatever was happening to him and, well, how hard could it be? Danny was good at daydreaming, after all, and it was easy enough to picture that feeling of warmth as if it were a small, glowing ball - something orange, maybe. It would be something orange and yellow with maybe a few red tones thrown it. 

Danny could picture holding something like that easily enough, and while it did take some focus, he could picture clutching it within both of his hands and squeezing- 

Danny’s eyes snapped open as he felt the warmth suddenly crash over him like a bucket of hot water, bright light flashing in front of him and forcing him to blink his eyes quickly before he looked down and saw the ice that had been climbing up his body was gone. The suit or whatever he had been wearing, as well as the glow, were also gone, leaving nothing but human skin and his typical outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. “I’m…” 

“You’re not dead, Daniel, and you are also not a ghost - at least, not quite,” Clockwork laughed, something in his tone that made Danny think he really had been worried for him. Looking up, and slightly startled at seeing Clockwork so much closer, Danny stared at the hand that was held out to him. 

Danny took it hesitantly, surprised when Clockwork pulled him forward and out and away from the pile of ice that had been building up around his feet. “Did I… really cause all of that?” It looked like that one small part of the room had gone through winter itself, covered in ice and bits of snow. 

“It’s a long, long story,” Clockwork chuckled, this time his laugh soft and barely there before he was moving Danny’s hand, gently, to rest over Danny’s wrist. “You know how to find your pulse?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” Danny frowned, fingers searching out his pulse absently for a few seconds before he was nodding to himself as he found it. “See? It’s right…” Danny trailed off, blinking as he realized that he had a pulse. To have a pulse, though, he needed to be alive, which meant he wasn’t- He wasn’t dead. “I have a pulse.”

“You have a pulse,” Clockwork confirmed, smile flicking into something larger for a moment. “Do you still believe you’re dead, then?” 

“I mean, it feels slower than it probably should, but, uh… it’s still there,” Danny admitted, letting his hands drop to his sides as he stared at Clockwork, who had just helped him through what would probably become a metaphor for a panic attack. “So, you, uh… You really aren’t here to hurt me or anything?” 

“No, Daniel,” Clockwork said, slowly and gently setting a hand on his shoulder. It felt familiar. It felt nice. “I’m here to help you if you can finally believe that.” 

Danny would never be able to explain it to himself or anyone else later if he tried, but in that moment the only thing he could think to do was rush forward and throw his arms around Clockwork, hugging him tightly as his hands buried in the cloak like it was second nature. 

Clockwork, on his part, didn’t even hesitate, arms sliding around him in return and making him feel safe. “I know this is difficult for you, Daniel, but you will be safe. You’ve lost quite a few of your memories, but we, both myself and your friends, are working hard on getting them back for you. I imagine it can’t be easy to believe me… but can you try?” 

“I…” Danny swallowed, feeling his throat working in silence for a few moments before he pushed himself back just enough to see Clockwork’s face. Danny couldn’t see a trace of a lie or anything else. If anything, Clockwork looked more worried than Danny did. “I don’t believe you, but…” 

This was someone he knew. Now that his panic and fear had faded away, Danny could tell that this was truly someone he knew; someone who cared for him and wanted to help him. That- That had to be more than enough, right? 

“I don’t believe you,” Danny said more firmly, hands clutching tightly at the other’s cloak. “But I trust you.” It was the first thing Danny had said that felt true to him. “Is that enough for right now?” 

“Oh, Daniel…” Clockwork said his name softly, like it was something important. “That is… That is more than enough, Daniel.” 

Danny smiled, ducking back in to hug Clockwork tightly for another minute before he finally cleared his throat and stepped back out of the, admittedly nice, hug. “Okay- Okay! So, uh, obviously this is pretty crazy and weird, so can you maybe explain a bit more about that whole amnesia thing and maybe why I can do that?” Danny asked, gesturing towards the pile of ice that didn’t look like it would be melting anytime soon. 

Something he said must have been funny because Clockwork was laughing, but he did lean forward to ruffle Danny’s hair in a motion that felt as familiar as the hug he had given him. “Yes, Daniel, I can explain why you can do that. It might take a while, though.” 

“Good thing you’re the Master of Time and all that, then,” Danny joked, staring at Clockwork and giving a wider smile because, well, maybe ghosts weren’t as bad as his parents had made them out to be. 

Somehow, Danny thought to himself, even if these supposed memories of his never came back, well… He had a feeling that everything would be okay. 

It was a good feeling.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

obi finding kiki's scars, like under her arm braces, or wherever you like (big eyes emoji)

Prompts are currently closed while I catch up. I will announce when I am open! :)

A/N: Again, I am here, trying to work through my promptpile by offering you another sneak peak of a WIP. This time, it’s from a futurereveal or hidden scene of Best Laid Plans. 

Pairing: Kikiobi

Content warning: Reference to sex, adults making stupiddecisions while drunk, and frank discussions of past self-harm/cutting.

Mornings, as her father would tell anyone, have never beenKiki’s strongest suit. For a girl raised in the country, she was downright allergicto them, thriving only when her father sent her to the city or adjusting thewhole households schedule for her benefit. The days seemed brighter when shecould stay abed until noon, the nights more tolerable when she could hone herblade by moonlight.

Come dawn, though- Well, the early hours were made for the birds. And she was no bird.

She had gotten better with age, though, much to her father’s and Izana’s pleasure. Mitsuhide’s Sereg upbringing and total patience was capable of training even an owl to rise with the sun. He kept his voice soft, prompting both Zen and her into quiet contemplation, prodding them with the simplest of questions until they fully awoke, but still-

She hated them.

This morning might take first place for the worst among them, though. Groggy, her eyesbarely open through the crust of sleep gluing them together, only to slam shutthe moment light meets them.

Mother’s milk and father’s porridge, what was in that drink last night?

Moaning, Kiki rubs her face against soft bedding, handstangling in her own hair and finding a mess. Flopping, she turns on her side,away from the window, and glances down at her body.

Her clothes are gone.

Obi must’ve been here, then.

He’s not here now, though, and both her bed and her fireplaceis cold. Squinting at the clock ticking far too loudly upon the mantle, shegroans at the thought of waiting for two more hours for the maids to show upwhen all she needs is a simple drink of water. So she gets her arms underneathher, pushes herself up-

-and hisses when she’s rewarded with a sharp painshooting straight from her wrist to her elbow.

She’s already lowered herself back to the bed when shehears a familiar voice drawl, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You weren’texactly kind to it last night.”

Dragging her head across her pillow, Kiki flinches whenlight briefly blinds her, the familiar silhouette of Obi crawling through herwindow coming into relief.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice more muffled cloth than actual human words.

“Helping!” he chirps, grin on his face and really- Hermemories are a fog, broken pieces scattered by sensation and noise, but eachone that floats to the surface tells her that her behavior was barelyacceptable last night, even by Obi’s feeble standards. And yet still, he wavesa bucket and a nondescript bag of… something in her direction like he’s nothere to dispatch her. “I am a decent hand at first aid unless you want to explainour little adventure last night to Miss.”

Wincing, she flops her hand in his general direction.“Close the window. You’re letting in a chill.”

His smile thins, but he pullsthe pane shut, closing the curtain so the room reaches a level of dark that istolerable. Her eyes flutter shut gratefully. “Thank you.”

As always, he is quiet, crossing the room with thatunearthly silence that makes him more ghost than flesh and blood. It would bedisconcerting if she did not know him. Even more if he did not make apoint to allow the bucket and bag to make something of a sound when he set themon the bedside table.

“How’s your head?” he asks, hushed.

“Horrible,” she replies, and is pleased when that earnsher a little laugh.

“Yes, well,” he sighs. “Next time get something a littleless poisonous.”

“I was going off the seller’s recommendation,” sheprotests.

“For what? An early grave?” Liquid sloshes into acontainer somewhere near her head. “Water?”

“Oh gods, yes.” Peaking a single eye open, Kiki wraps herhand around the cool glass being pressed to her. She sips, careful because she’s not such a fool that she thinks her stomach is in muchbetter shape than her head. “Thank you.”

He hums, pulling the cup from her hand, and she is justdrifting off, just being pulled back under when her wrist jostles, the tug oflacings being pulled through leather straps loud in her ears, and she- shepanics.

“Don’t!” she snaps, fully awake as she yanks her handaway. It’s too fast and it jars, white hot pain lacing all the way to hershoulder this time; through each and every finger, too. It, embarrassingly enough, pulls awhimper from her.

The sigh registers through her pain, as do Obi’s mutteredwords about how no wonder miss complains.

“Fine,” he says, and when she opens her eyes again, he is settinga prepared ice pack back in the bucket. “But when your wrist swells up to thesize of a grapefruit and you have to be cut out of that wrist guard, I don’twant to hear any complaints.”

Kiki stares at him, frowning. His profile is sharp, noteven watching her out of the tail of his eye, and she wonders about the natureof words, how people abandon their vocabulary and adopt another’s. Just how manyare his, and how many- how many are- are hers.

Slowly, carefully, she uncoils her arm from itsprotective hold against her chest. “Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s habit.”

He stares at her, the pupils of his strange eyes bleedingwide in the dark, and it’s hard to meet them. Even now. But he doesn’t sayanything. For once in his life, he is silent. Instead, he just reaches out,tugging on the laces. “Let me know if it hurts.”

She doesn’t, even when it does. But he is being gentle with her, moving her arm no more than necessary until he peels the leather backand she lifts so he can pull it out from underneath her.

Cool air touches sweaty skin and Kiki cannot meet hiseyes so she stares at the pale skin, the rooms shadows and little hatch marks ofpink somewhat hiding the silvery lines of white scratching themselves up and downthe soft of her forearm. It’s been a while since she’s seen them last in full light. She wonders if she should count them like prisoner countshis days.

How long will it take him to notice? To say something? Although maybe- maybe he’ll explain it away in his head. Or yell. Or scold. Or leave. Or maybe-

Maybe he just won’t care.

“Sorry,” Obi begins, sitting on the edge of the bed. Takingahold of her elbow, he leads the bone of her forearm to lean against his thigh.And he is silent, spreading some sort of minty poultice leaves warmth over all it touches.

“Does that burn?” he asks.

Slowly shaking her head, Kiki replies, “No. It’s justwarm.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Riffling through the pack, he pulls out a roll of gauze, unspoolingit before twisting it around her arm. This way and that, smooth and practiced,until her wrist is snugly wrapped.

“Has Shirayuki been giving you lessons?”

He doesn’t flinch at the mention of her name. His faceonly softens in that fond way that has always revealed his deepest secrets.“Not really,” he laughs. “More like I’ve been giving her reason to practice.”

“You should be more careful with yourself,” she tsks, notthat she has any room to judge. It just seems right to say so.

His smile grows more. “You don’t say.”

She watches him work. “You know,” she begins. “You’regood at this.”

He grunts, taping the binding into place. “There we go!”he quips, taping her once on the nose. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

Going cross-eyed for a second, she rolls onto her back, andstares at his handiwork.

“When the warmth wears off, you should switch over toicing it, but keep it elevated as much as possible,” Obi says, pulling out the ice pack again toillustrate the point. “I don’t think you’ll need to go to the pharmacy, but ifyou do-”

“You’re not going to say anything about it,are you?”

Obi’s eyes pull wide, mouth dropping into a frown. “Asmuch as I love Miss scolding me, I don’t actively seek it out, no.”

“No,” her lips twitch, before settling once again intosomething more sober. “That’s not- that’s not what I meant.”

“Kiki-jou.” Eyes sliding from her face, Obi lingers atwhat the bandages once again hide. “I’m the last person to judge someone fortheir scars.”

Kiki stares at him, suddenly breathless, and it’s- it’s like the first time she took a punch to the gut. The light headedness. The disorientation and the not-quite pain. How easily he had delivered it, how flawlessly, like he didn’t now hold her darkest secret in the palm of his hand.

“I’m just-“ He coughs, turning to stare at her headboard.“I’m just glad you’re still here. It would have been boring if I never had the chance to meet you.”

“I wasn’t-“ Kiki swallows, searching for her courage andfinding so very little. “I didn’t want to leave,I just-”

He’s staring at her now, and no longer do those eyes lookstrange, something foreign and terrifying like a creature you never would wantto meet in the wood. Instead they look just… curious. Just like she’sexplaining the movement of sword or a formation of an army and it makes iteasy, for once, for her to open her mouth. To give her voice the air and lightneeded to speak it.

“All my life,people have controlled me. My hair. My dress. My posture. Even the cadence and clip of myvoice.” Her throatfeels tight and she wishes he hadn’t taken that water away so quickly. She would like to hide behind it. “Even-even who I was to give my body to, who I was to marry wasn’t mine to choose, not at first. Not until-”

Kiki gestures with her arm, her tongue failing her. Ormaybe her throat just stings too much to allow herself to continue.

“I just- I wanted to be in control. Of just… one thing.”

She represses the urge to flinch when she feels Obi shift onto the mattress, but she jolts when his thumb drags beneath her eye. It pulls back and she’s shocked tosee them come away wet. Just a little.

“Did it work?”

The question gives her pause, more liquid leakingpainlessly from her eyes. “I thought it was, in the beginning,” she admits, surprising herself with her honesty. Tracingthe length of a scar from memory through the gauze, her lips tremble. But thenshe shakes her head. “But no. It didn’t.”

Sighing, Obi pulls himself the rest of the way up and into her bed, propping himselfagainst her headboard. She waits for the longest time for him to speak, andwhen he does, it’s with a level of lightness that she does not expect. 

“I guesswe’re not too different after all,” he says, scratching absently at his chest.

She doesn’t know what to say to that, but one of thoseclever hands of his finds her hair, picking at a gnarl they both earned her in the training yard last night.

“You’re a mess,” he mutters.

Her lips twitch, and her chest is… surprisingly lighter. “My problem seem like less of one whenI look at yours. Or Shirayuki’s,” she says, halfheartedly attempting to bat away his hand.

He bats her back. “Miss would say-“ Obi coughs out a laugh, a wet thingwithout humor. “Miss would say that it doesn’t matter. Our problems are ourproblems. If they’re big to you, then they’re big.”

Kiki looks at him, the softened lines of his face as he bringshis other hand to work on her hair. “That does sound like something she wouldsay.”

Obi peers down at her, his mouth settling into itscustomary grin, and it’s- nice. It’s nice to know that she didn’t ruineverything. “You’re still have to answer for last night, you know.”

Face falling, Kiki swallows a sigh. “Can’t I just blame it on the drinkand be done with it?”

“Kiki-jou,” his voice is thick with censure, tugging alittle harder than necessary on a knot. “I never pegged you for aheart-breaker.”

She smiles, a weary thing. 

If only he knew.

[in-the-grip-of-depression]

In The Grip Of Depression Chapter 17: Bittersweet

Chapter 1|Previous Chapter|Next Chapter Trigger Warnings: Mentions of blood, vomiting

Prestons eyes fluttered open and he held back a small groan as he felt the pain in his head from where it had hit the tree he was now slumped against.

He could see Virgil and the others over by the barrier, they hadn't noticed he was awake just yet because they were more focused on Virgil.

Deciding that he didn't want to hang around until they did notice, Preston slowly began crawling into the trees until he was out of sight of the others. Only then did he stand up and start walking.

He was curious if his tree house was in the barrier so he set off in that direction and a pleased smirk twisted onto his face when it came into view.

He slowly pulled himself up the ladder, wincing and grunting from the aches and pains in his body.

He flopped onto the balcony with a loud sigh and lay there catching his breath for a bit before standing up and heading into the tree house.

He began searching through the house for anything useful and grinned as he pulled open a draw and found a ton of his favourite torture tools.

He pulled out a long sharp hunting knife that made his old knife look like spoon and closed his eyes as he imagined all the ways he could get back at Virgil with it.

He let out a small sigh and set it down, searching the rest of the room and coming across his hidden stash of cigarettes and lighters.

He ripped open the carton and stuffed one of them into his mouth, lighting it and letting out a contented sigh as a cloud of smoke burst from his lips.

He felt the stress of being trapped in this hellish barrier thing melt away and he could actually focus on a plan of action now.

He stuffed the packet into his pocket and toyed with the lighter in his hand thoughtfully as a thousand different ideas ran through his mind. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan sank to the floor with a small groan of exhaustion as he finished healing Virgils back.

It had taken a lot of intense concentration but he'd managed it and now Virgil wasn't going to bleed out.

Virgil had fallen asleep leaning against the barrier and Patton quietly said "I'll take Logan to bed and you can keep an eye on things tonight. Is that OK?"

Roman nodded and replied "That's fine by me, just make sure Thomas doesn't have another one of those nightmares. That's the last thing any of us need right now."

Patton shuddered at the reminder as he gently helped Logan up. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he has a peaceful sleep. If anything major happens let me know."

Roman watched as Patton coaxed Logan into walking and the two disappeared back to the main part of the mindspace leaving him alone with Virgil.

Roman turned back to Virgil with a sorrowful expression. He wasn't sure how long this process was going to take but he was quite certain that it wouldn't be pretty and the one thing he wanted more than anything was to embrace Virgil and tell him it would all be OK.

Roman slumped forward with his head in his hands as he was overwhelmed with the daunting truth; nothing was going to be OK anymore, he wouldn't ever be able to even hold Virgil in a hug because of everything that had happened and the barrier.

It was as if something within him broke and suddenly his body was wracked with sobs, hot floods of tears running down his face.

He was supposed to be the strong one, the one who dreamed big and never let anything put a damper on his hope of reaching his goals, but he didn't feel like that at that moment. He felt lost and hopeless, like anything he thought about would be pointless.

His sobs mustn't have been particularly quiet because a soft voice from nearby said "You know, I never thought I'd ever see you cry like this."

Roman raised his head and found himself looking at a now awake Virgil.

When Roman raised his head and showed Virgil his tear streaked face Virgil inhaled sharply. It was such a bittersweet image because all the raw emotions in Romans eyes made them sparkle so beautifully.

Roman opened his mouth to try and explain himself but all he could produce were more sobs.

"There's no need to say anything, just let it all out and you'll feel better." Virgil said in a comforting voice.

Roman let himself cry for another half an hour before he started to try and calm himself down. He felt much better at having let it all out but there was still an overhanging feeling of despair.

"I'm sorry for waking you, I didn't mean to be so loud." Roman muttered with a sigh.

"there's no need to apologise, there are much worse ways to be woken up." Virgil replied, trying to make light of the situation but failing as it reminded both of them of Preston.

Roman wiped his face and said "You barely got any sleep though and I bet you don't get much when in this thing." he gestured to the barrier which both of them were now leaning against.

Virgil was leaning on the barrier sideways his head resting against it as he surveyed Roman. "It was probably better I was woken up after a little bit of peaceful sleep than having to go through hours of nightmares and agonising sleep paralysis."

Roman frowned at that and felt another wave of sorrow flow through him at how much he wished he could save Virgil from all this suffering.

"This is actually a welcome change. I got enough sleep that I don't feel like I'm going to collapse and I woke up to a lovely sight." Virgil said casually before freezing as he realised what he'd said.

"A lovely sight? What do you mean?" Roman asked.

Virgil opened his mouth and nothing came out as he tried to think of a way to respond.

"are you talking about me crying?" Roman asked with a confused expression.

"yes and no, it was just kind of breathtaking seeing you crying because your eyes were so.... Pretty and... Stuff..." Virgil managed to stutter out lamely and looked about ready to bury himself in the ground to hide from the shame and regret.

Roman was stunned into silence before he managed to ask "you think my eyes look... Pretty?"

Virgils cheeks burned as he stared at anything but Roman. He mentally cursed himself for making the comment about waking up to a lovely sight and regretted everything he'd said to try and explain.

Roman noticed the reddened cheeks and felt a jolt of hope which was promptly squashed as he remembered the situation.

"Pretty isn't quite the word I meant." Virgil eventually mumbled "I was just so caught off guard at the amount of raw emotion in your eyes and the way they sparkled while filled with tears... Ugh I'm just going to shut up now and contemplate removing my tongue so I stop embarrassing myself like this." Virgil hid his face in his hands and fought the urge to headbutt the barrier.

Roman was lost for words as he processed what had just been said but when Virgil made another comment, this time about wanting to just disappear, he managed to say "If you disappeared I wouldn't get to say something equally embarrassing back."

Virgil raised his head and peered at Roman from between his fingers. "what?"

Roman swallowed nervously and said "I... I might have a small amount of feelings for you, which you probably don't return and you don't have to at all I just felt like I needed to say it so now you're not alone in your embarrassment and now I'm starting to understand the wanting to remove your tongue thing because I can't seem to stop talking right now."

Roman clapped a hand over his mouth to force himself to stop speaking and fixed his eyes on Virgil who had yet to respond.

Virgil was dumbstruck at Romans words and was struggling to comprehend just what had been said. He just about managed to become cognitive enough that he realised Roman had admitted to having feelings for him.

Panic surged through Virgil as he tried to force his sluggish brain to form actual words in response. "I.... I.... I think I'm going to be sick." Virgil spluttered before retching.

Roman winced and looked away as Virgil vomited, this didn't appear too promising.

When Virgil had finished puking he started laughing hysterically. "This whole situation is so fucking typical. Of course it's when I'm behind an impenetrable barrier, ready to sacrifice myself for everyone that I'm suddenly aware of you having feelings for me. This sums up my life so perfectly, I eventually find love and I'm in a situation where it's impossible to have a relationship."

Romans jaw dropped at Virgil mentioning love but sobered up quickly as Virgil let out a weird half laugh half sob. "Even if this barrier wasn't here, we wouldn't be able to be together either."

Roman, who had rested his forehead on the barrier, looked up at Virgil questioningly "Why not?"

Virgil took a few gulps of air and replied in a subdued voice "The medication is changing me, taking away all the limits and rules I've created for myself so I don't become a monster. I've become more violent and angry while I've been in here and I never used to be able to physically manifest my anxious energy. I'm changing and if the barrier were to come down now I'd probably become more of a threat than Preston is."

Roman opened his mouth to protest but Virgil looked him right in they eyes, his hands pressed against the barrier. "Promise me you'll keep making Thomas take the medication. Even if Preston dies before me, even if I ask you to make him stop. He must keep taking them until both me and Preston have gone."

Roman stuttered "I... I don't know... If you asked me to tell him to stop why wouldn't I listen to you?"

Virgil closed his eyes for a few seconds as he unblocked his anxious energy until it was a huge mass of black smoke swirling around him and his eyes were glowing eerily. "Because right now I'm pretty much fully in control but the longer I'm in here the harder it is to stay in control. If in the future I ask, or even beg to be let out you can't listen. If you were to let me out I could utterly destroy Thomas."

Roman stared at the black smoke with a tinge of fear before locking eyes with Virgil. "I... I promise Virgil. I'll make him keep taking them no matter what." Romans voice wavered slightly but Virgil smiled and carefully brought the energy under control again until the black smoke had gone.

"Thank you Roman. You'll have to convince the others but knowing you that won't be very hard."Virgil said with a sad smile.

They sat staring into each others eyes for a bit before a few tears trailed down Romans face. "I wish I'd said something sooner, I can't even hug you or hold your hand and the thought that I'll never get to hold you again is killing me inside."

Virgil felt tears of his own run down his face as he smiled bitterly "Unfortunately life's unfair Roman but at least we said something now so we both know. It would have been worse if you'd never said anything."

Roman took a few gasping breaths to calm himself down then said "It seems like it was years ago that I was threatening to stab Logan for getting drunk and kissing you."

Virgil snorted at that "Now there's something I'm not surprised about. I did always peg you as the jealous, possessive type."

Roman managed a small smile at that "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Virgil rolled his eyes "actually I didn't say it was a bad thing, it's fine by me, but threatening to kill someone? That seems a bit overdramatic."

Roman let out a light laugh "But I'm the Prince, it's my job to be overdramatic."

Virgil let out a small snicker as Roman gestured wildly and felt the urge to shove him playfully but he was quickly bought back to reality as he remembered the barrier.

A sad sigh passed his lips and he leant against the barrier with his eyes shut. "All this is fun and everything but don't you think this will just make everything worse in the long run? The more time we spend talking and getting closer is just going to make it hurt more when I become a monster."

Romans hands fell to his sides and his head hung slightly as he absorbed what Virgil had said. He'd waited so long to admit his feelings and he just wanted to know everything he could about Virgil.

Romans expression turned determined as he said "It may hurt in the long run but I don't care. I want to know everything about you, what you like, what you dislike, everything. Surely this will help keep you as yourself for longer and it's better to have experienced this and then lost it than to have never experienced it at all. I don't care how much it will hurt, I'm not abandoning you."

Virgils eyes shot open and he stared at Roman in astonishment. He hadn't expected any of this and he knew he should say no, that they shouldn't indulge in their want to get closer but the expression on Romans face and the words he'd just spoken had made any argument Virgil had melt away into nothing until he found himself saying "OK, fuck it, let's do this."

Roman grinned and they sat there all night talking, neither of them even noticing the absence of Preston.

[emilyplaysotome]

DTRH - Part 29 - All the Feels

My post got flagged for some reason...thanks to @full-of-obsessions for the heads up. I’m going to change the link on my master post so it’ll link to this one without shirtless cartoon man pics that flagged the algorithm 🤦🏻‍♀️

I noticed that Zyglavis was a bit red upon approach, but couldn’t figure out if the color in his cheeks was from the heat of the bath or some latent attraction towards me that caused him to be bashful. I obviously hoped it was the latter, but with the words of the fortune teller still fresh in my mind, I told myself not to read into things.

He did not seem rustled in the least to be sharing a bath with a woman who wore nothing but a towel, and took a seat next to me a comfortable distance away. He gently splashed water on himself, without a thought as far as to how it could be interpreted, rubbing his chest and biceps while speaking to me unfettered.

“No one at Sanno or Long Island recognized you, nor did they find a girl. How was it at the matchmaking event? Did you stick to the plan?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“No leads.”

I was trying to be as professional about this as Zyglavis was, but unlike him my face was burning and it was obviously not due to the heat of the bath.

I tried to keep my eyes locked on his, and not allow myself to be overtaken by the lascivious thoughts swirling around my head but it was short lived as I found myself glancing down when he finally broke eye contact. It was the moment when he looked away from me, and spoke about what our next steps should be that I gave into my baser instincts and realized that he was as naked as the day he was born.

Upon realizing this, I immediately became dizzy and backed away from him towards the edge of the bath. I attempted to excuse myself under the ruse that I had merely overheated and needed a moment to myself. Even though the water in the bath provided some coverage, it surprised me how little Zyglavis seemed to care, which only hammered home the point that he was so utterly uninterested in me that nothing about this situation was remotely sexual to him.

As I climbed out, I hoped that he would let me leave in peace, but instead he snapped his fingers and got out of the bath with a towel now covering him from the waist down in an attempt to help me. Even though the gesture was sweet, I cursed him under my breath.

For a God he was such a clueless idiot, but not wanting to give myself away, I forced myself to try and play it cool.

“Just let me sit here,” I said fanning myself as I lay down on the marble tile, “I just need a moment. I’m fine...really.”

“You do not appear to be fine Ami Mizuno and I will stay with you until you are feeling better. It is no bother. We have much to discuss.”

“No, no! I think you should go!” I urged. “I’ll get to bed on my own and we can speak about everything in the morning.”

“Absolutely not! I insist.”

I sighed, realizing that Zyglavis truly had no idea what I was thinking or feeling. Despite the inklings I’d had earlier on in the day (where I suspected that he might be aware of how I felt and was trying to let me down easy), at the moment he was insisting on staying by my side. He kneeled down beside me and pressed his fingers to my wrist, taking my pulse which I’m sure accelerated upon feeling his touch.

The room spun thanks to a combination of exhaustion, alcohol, and anxiety, and to make matters worse Zyglavis was not leaving my field of vision. Being blissfully unaware of what I was thinking, he continued to rile me up as let go of my arm and casually went to tie his long hair back up, all the while droplets of water running down his picture perfect body.

All the men in this world had muscular, male model-esque physiques yet somehow I was always caught off guard upon seeing them in the flesh. With Zyglavis, I hated how casual he was about it all, continuing to speak with me uninterested in the fact that our bodies were very much exposed to each other.

The towel that currently kept me decent, covered me starting at my breasts and ended a few inches below my butt. It was shorter than even the shortest miniskirt, and with only a thin piece of fabric around his waist, I couldn’t believe that he was so unaffected by it all. His cavalier attitude towards the situation only made me feel ashamed at that fact that I couldn’t seem to control my lustful thoughts towards him.

To make matters worse, he kept touching my forehead intermittently as he tried to determine if I was feverish or not. Every time his hand came in contact with my bare skin, I felt a my temperature spike once more and my heart rate increase. I felt as if I were being punished for my misdeeds with the men in this world, and after what felt like an eternity, I finally had to put a stop to it.

“Dear God, please stop touching me!” I exclaimed, not being able to endure his platonic touch for a second longer.

I’d meant “Dear God” in the sense of “Jesus Christ” or “Good Lord” as I’d often said back home, but my outburst was interpreted incorrectly by a man who was in fact a God.

His eyes widened and he pulled away, clearly blushing as a result of what I’d said. It was as if he finally saw things the way I did, and with a snap, we were both fully dry and clothed, and with another we were back in his room.

“I apologize Ami Mizuno,” he said standing over me as I lay in his bed. “It did not occur to me that you consider me so dear that my touch would trouble you.”

“I didn’t…”

He ignored my attempt to cut him off and continued to chastise himself, “I’d all but forgotten about your confession the other day. It was cruel of me to toy with you like that but I was truly unaware as to how you felt.”

He bowed before me and I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

My poor choice in phrasing had caused me to accidentally confess my love for him. I figured that since it was out in the open, there was no real point in backtracking. Even if I were to deny how I felt about him, it wouldn’t really accomplish anything. I did in fact like him, and at least now maybe he’d exercise a bit more restraint in my presence, at least for my sake.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I know you’re not interested in me.”

“You’re a human. I’m a God.”

“I know,” I said sadly as he confirmed everything I already knew, “and soon enough we’ll be out of each other’s lives. Let’s just forget this ever happened and we’ll talk in the morning.”

I couldn’t bear to look at him, so I just rolled over and squeezed my eyes shut.

I heard a snap and the light in the room faded, followed by another snap which indicated to me that Zyglavis had left the room without saying so much as good night.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit lonely knowing that the night before he’d stayed with me until I’d fallen asleep, and in the course of a day I’d managed to ruin everything. It was comical, really, that it had only taken me a day to fall for him the amount that I had. If a day of ambiguity caused me to like him this much, two or three days would certainly have led to heartbreak.

It was for the best that I knew how he felt, even though my stupid heart didn’t seem to know that.

The speed in which this world caused me to fall for the men who inhabited it had me tossing and turning into the night.

Truthfully, my pride was a bit wounded, and I was incredibly embarrassed by my sophomoric behavior towards Zyglavis. I’d handled the situation immaturely, and I tortured myself by replaying the events of the day over and over again in my mind as I forced myself to relieve my own bad behavior. I couldn’t imagine how Zyglavis must have felt when he realized how much of a lech I was. I’d been so overtaken by lust that I couldn’t handle having him touch me (albeit completely non-sexually) while engaging him in simple conversation.

I let out a loud audible groan as I covered my face with my pillow, not wanting to think about how he viewed me, yet unable to escape my negative thoughts.

Finding myself wide awake and wanting nothing more than a distraction from how utterly humiliated I was, I sat up and took out my phone that was in my clutch on the nightstand beside me. I hadn’t checked it for hours, and was surprised to find that I had TalkTime messages from Sakiko and Shunichiro.

Sakiko’s message informed me that Eisuke had been asking about me, and that she had let him know about the event. She apologized in advance, clearly worried that she had caused a bit of trouble for me. Her text also indicated that she was under the impression that Eisuke and I were romantically linked, which caused me to chuckle as I thought about how obviously incompatible we were with each other.

I responded by squashing any lingering ideas surrounding Eisuke and I being affectionate with each other, and let her know that I appreciated the heads up and hoped to see her again soon. Considering it was one in the morning, I wasn’t surprised that my message went unread, and opened Shun’s next.

“How was your matchmaking party? Did you meet prince charming?”

I couldn’t help but smile. If only Shun knew the disaster my night had been.

That said, I obviously wasn’t about to tell him anything and instead wrote, “Boring. How was the rest of your night?”

I was going to open FriendFind, under the assumption that he too was asleep, but saw that he was typing a response and waited patiently, happy to finally have a distraction from the horror film that was currently looping in my mind.

“Boring,” he replied. “I’m selfishly very happy to hear that no one swept you off your feet.”

My deflated ego was starting to recover, and I found myself holding my breath as I waited for his next message.

“I guess that really does make me a bad boss…”

Shun had skillfully left the ball in my court as he danced around what we both knew he was saying.

That message was the kind of message a man sends early in the morning, when his bed is empty and he’s looking for someone to fill it. The ellipse in his message was an open invitation to make him the bad boss he was implying he already was, and admittedly, the part inside me that currently felt undesirable was urging me to play with fire a bit in attempt to feel better about myself.

My impulsive side took over for a moment, and I found myself standing at my underwear drawer looking at the tiny, silk thong Tauxolouve had gifted me a few weeks back. I could change into this, call a cab, and spend the night in a room that was void of the man who moments earlier had wounded my heart.

Conflicted, I stood there holding the thong, and had it not been for that stupid knit hat, I probably would have gone. After all, Shun was incredibly attractive, but seeing that dumb hat I’d brought with me to this world reminded me that I had to resist his advances.

Tonight was simply not the night for that.

Regardless of how bruised my ego was, I’d made myself a promise to try and get home before I resigned to living the rest of my life here. Part of that meant following through with my plan, and if I were to bed Shun it would no doubt distract me from my main purpose.

I still didn’t know if Iori had been the one to find me, nor if the place I’d arrived in this world could help me get home. There were still questions that I needed to answer, and until I did that, I had to behave myself. After all, should it become clear that I was indeed stuck in this world, there’d be plenty of time to engage in a downward spiral with as many men as I pleased.

I put the thong next to the knit hat, so I’d be reminded of what mattered the next time I wanted to pursue a bad idea, and decided to send an ambiguous reply back to Shun that walked the line of flirtatious but also polite.

“Don’t you have work tomorrow? You really will be a bad boss if you don’t get enough sleep...”

I half expected him to reply with some over the top response about how if we spent the night together there’d be little sleeping, but instead he just sent, “You’re right. Very responsible ;) Good night.”

I wished him a good night as well, and put the phone away before I could change my mind.

In addition to not pursuing things with Shun until my future was a bit clearer, I still clung to the one in a million chance Zyglavis might one day feel the same way I did. Since getting home was my first priority, I planned to work with him as professionally as I could with the hope that if I did end up stuck here, I’d have weaseled my way into his heart during our time together.

I had decided that I would not push him to like me, or try and be someone other than the person that I was. I promised myself that if I did end up finding my way home, I would try and remember all of this fondly and settle for whatever the reality was between us upon my departure from this world.

As I crawled back into bed, the worst case scenario flashed through my mind.

I closed my eyes and pictured a life where I was trapped in this world, working at Addison & Rhodes, and using the severance from Soryu in order to move out of the God’s mansion. Being apart from him would help me get over my crush on Zyglavis who (worst case scenario) saw me as nothing more than a friend. As I realized that this potential future didn’t seem that bad after all, I found myself feeling surprisingly peaceful.

It was yet another reminder that no matter what happened, I would be ok and before I knew it, the fatigue I felt earlier in the night returned, and I was fast asleep.

“Ami Mizuno.”

I groaned, not wanting to wake up.

“Amy Mizuno!”

“Go away…”

I kept my eyes shut, as I rolled away from his voice and heard him let out an irritated groan. I listened to his footsteps which came closer to the bed. I opened my eyes a crack and in my peripheral vision watched as he reached out to touch me, before pausing and then retracting his outstretched hand. He sighed once more and his footsteps retreated.

“Five more minutes,” he muttered, “but then I’m expecting you to get up.”

He snapped his fingers, and I knew he was gone.

Even in my partially conscious state, it was clear that Zyglavis was worried about touching me. His actions made my heart hurt a bit, and I felt more grumpy than usual after not getting enough sleep. Involuntarily I found my bottom lip was quivering as it sunk in that I still really liked someone who didn’t like me back.

Using the five minutes of solitude that he’d gifted me, I fought the urge to cry and made the decision that I was going to be mature about the situation. I would be on my best behavior, and would dedicate myself to getting the answers I needed.

I quickly got dressed in the clothes that I’d arrived in, including the knit hat which had acted as an anchor of sorts when it looked as if I were about to lose my way in this world.

Zyglavis returned exactly five minutes later and seemed surprised when I’d greeted him with a cheerful, “Good morning”.

He watched on with a dubious expression as I excused myself to go to the bathroom and freshen up. Upon returning, I managed to keep the charade going, happily accepting another of Zyglavis’ lattes before sitting with him in Operation GTFO HQ as we filled each other in on what had happened the previous day.

Before long I found that I’d forgotten I was pretending, and just spoke with him normally like I had in the past.

I filled him in on Eisuke crashing the matchmaking party as well as the note and check Soryu had left me. I made it clear that none of the liars at the party should have any inclination that I liked them in return, and that I had done as he’d instructed and rejected all of them from the onset.

The last thing I knew I needed to confess was the fact that I’d run into Shun and the other men from Addison & Rhodes. I assured him that while I had in fact engaged in a bit of harmless flirtation with Shunichiro, I hadn’t allowed it to escalate. I even went so far as to offer to show him our TalkTime messages from the early morning in which I’d managed to gracefully remove myself from what was usually a precarious situation for me.

He seemed to be pleased and he expressed that he appreciated the fact that I was cooperating with him to the extent that I was. I was just about to reveal the fact that I suspected Iori Enjo was the key to finding out where I’d appeared in this world when he changed the subject to a topic I was certain he’d avoid entirely.

“About last night,” he said avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” I said, quickly cutting him off. “I meant what I said though - let’s pretend it never happened. After all, we’re trying to get me home. That’s what matters right now.”

Zyglavis smiled at me in a way which indicated he saw right through me, but appreciated what I was doing nonetheless.

“That’s surprisingly reasonable of you.”

“Hey! I can be reasonable.”

He continued to tease me, but forgetting his concerns earlier, reached out and gently removed my knit hat so he could tousle my hair affectionately. I was happy that he touched me once more without trepidation, and I selfishly knew that even though it would soon come to an end, I wanted just a little more time with him like this.

So with that in mind, I held out my hand and said, “Shall go to Maison du Mont?”

I could tell him all about Iori Enjo and Revance later.

At this point, so much time had passed since my arrival that I found it unlikely a day or two would be the reason I was unable to return home. I would stand beside him, until ever suspect (excluding the men of Revance) was checked off my list, clinging to the hope that he might change his mind about me during our time together.

Zyglavis put my stupid knit hat back on my head with a small smile. From there, he gently took my hand in his, and with a snap we were on our way.

[welcometoyournewhell]

What Family is For

Well that was a waste of time. Not many people read oc based stories but I was hit with the inspiration this morning. I promise I'll get my ass going on the prompts I owe!

WARNING: Contains violent themes, talk of PTSD, gore, and other relating themes. Also contains tickling and fluff.

"People die because you want them too. You kill for pleasure. " The room went silent. It was as if time it's self had come to a standstill. "You call me a monster," The Galran general Voltron had captured spat at Allura. "You've been letting one live with you the entire time! "

Jerome felt sick. He felt like he was going to puke to be exact. His body felt cold, and his eyes burrned with tears that threatened to pour put. "That little fuck has taken out how many people huh? How many?! "

The sound of two hard objects colliding filled the room. The eighteen year old dared to look up to see his uncle looking over the general, a Galran gun in his hand. He had bashed the back end I to the man's face.

"Shut. Up." Adam's orders were simple. The general spit out a wad of blood and a few teeth. "Buddy your attacking the wrong man, " he croaked. "That boy has killed planet leaders. He's killed innocent people, good people! Yet you defend him? " His eyes narrowed at both Allura and Shiro now.

Adam bashed him with the him once more. "I said enough! " Voltron was out on another mission, lucky for the the prisoner. "You think you have any right to cast judgement against me? " Adam looked up at his husband. If he kept beating the guy he may cause some more damage, meaning getting information from him would be a lost cause.

Shiro shook his head before looking at Allura. "Should we put him in a freezing pod until he's needed? " The princess thought for a moment before casting a glance at her nephew. He looked mortified. His face was filled with horror.

The team knew what he had done to an extent, but maybe it was revisiting all the memories that was causing this reaction. "Probably for the best, " she nodded. Shiro walked down to help Adam lug the guy away, leaving Allura, Coran, Krolia, and Jerome alone.

Jerome felt as if his feet we're cemented to the ground. He felt so sick and cold. He wanted to cry, but he also wanted to lash out. He wanted his dads.

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. She wasn't his father but she was a close substitute. Krolia gave her grandson a loving smile trying to reassure him. However Jerome wasn't having it.

He looked down before finally feeling the urge to move. Biting back his gag reflex he thanked his grandmother for the encouragement before leaving.

The three exchanged looks of concern before returning back to their stations, after all... they had a job to do.

Not long after Jerome had curled up in his bed, his baby blanket held to his nose. He was such a child at times but a comfort item was called a comfort item for a reason. Stompers curled up behind him for the warmth radiating off his body.

Flashbacks of his time away from home flipped though his mind as he quietly started to shake and cry. His first time meeting Asmar, the take down! He was resourceful and used the "handcuffs" to his advantage! Because of that he was sparred, but at a cost.

Their next show down the shark-like creature destroyed everyone else in the arena, everyone but Jerome. In the midst of battle the other prisoners thought a sacrifice would calm the beast.

They pinned him down, allowing easier access for the beast. It backfired greatly as Asmar went for then first, but after he left a mark Jerome would always remember.

He clutched his metal arm, the burning sensation returning from the memory. His teeth slowly piercing the skin, breaking the bone and flesh. It was so slow, so agonizing.

They didn't pull him out of the arena either. They all watched as he went for the boy's leg next. Fitting from the foot to mid thigh in his mouth he closed in for the chomp.

Jerome screamed in pain. It was bloodcurdling, however it was unheard over the masses cheering in entertainment. However they stopped once Asmar retreated to his water bed under the arena. After what felt like hours the Galran guards brought him to the infirmary.

The rest was a blank. Just like when he disappeared. The last thing he remembered was saying good night to everytime, when he woke up in the morning he was in some motel room with a dead man in the bathtub. The man turned out to be the king of that planet. He was a small creature, he looked innocent.

Being charged for his death Jerome was locked away until the Galra invaded and dragged the prisoners and civilians on board.

He had no memory of killing him, nor did he have any for the other crimes he had committed. He'd stopped getting of the ship when they would land. Aliens wpuld riot accusing him of different things that he had no recollection with, making it harder to form alliances.

He was broken. He'd been put into so many screwed up situations, like being strung up and fed only vitamins in a dungeon waiting for his marriage to Lucius.

He was strung beside Lotor, the prince's father. He was to be sacrificed the night of their wedding before Lucius became emperor of the Galra empire he had remade in the name of his grandfather, Zarkon. Haggard had taken him in after Lotor tried to recreate the thrown.

She pulled the strings behind the puppet show, buts till catered to the boy's wants and wishes. Despite being his grandmother, she acted as a mother for him. A mentor. She took him in when the world had turned against him at a young age.

But being g locked up for days just hearing the annoying man beside him squeal and whine about everything imaginable, even trying to tell him stories of Voltron; it was a lot.

Killing the prince, and saving his family was the easiest of events so far. Being a hit man living with Asmar. All his memories we're flashing by so quick that he didn't hear the panicked calls.

He was shaking so badly that Stompers had jumped off the bed in annoyance. The skunk now watched as Shiro and Adam tried to pry the boy's arms away from his face.

Shiro felt his heart breaking at the sight. He'd gone through hell and back, he'd never wish it on anyone else. But watching his nephew crumble before him? It was awful. He couldn't help him, especially when the kid refuses to open up anymore about things.

"Jerome." Adam had crawled behind the boy, trying to cuddle. He hoped that it would calm him down. "Jerome it's okay. Daddy and papi are coming back soon. Okay? " Still nothing. The sobs became louder, he was stuck within his own head.

Something the team had grown used to. Shiro would go into similar fits. However, Keith or Adam could usually bring him out of it. It took a while, but they could. Jerome however was a bit more difficult.

Adam pulled the shaking form into him as he started to hum softly. As his husband did they, Shiro started combing through the dark locks of hair. "It's okay, we're here now, " he whispered softly.

The sobs became less patterned and more heartful. The shaking had slowed slightly as two blue eyes peered out from behind the limbs. Jerome whimpered slightly, but his eyes pleaded for help.

Crawling under the covers as well both uncles held their nephew trying to sooth him before his parents returned. "It's okay.... Shhhh... It's alright, " Shiro couldn't bounce him as he did when the boy was just a babe. More often than not he found himself stepping in to help like a father rather than an uncle. But they were a close family.

Finally the shaking ceased. Looking down both men noted how exhausted the boy looked. He needed sleep. But sleep was where the memories laid. Keith could tell what nightmare he was having based on his scream and body action at this point.

The boy was broken. They all knew it. But they didn't stop their love.

After fully calming down the boy nuzzled into Shiro. Something he'd done since birth when Keith or Lance was absent. "I'm sorry, " he whispered softly. "For what, " Adam asked as he leaned his head on lazily.

"For being a damn child, again. For having to bother you to help me as I sob like a five year old. " Shiro furrowed his brow. "Your not acting like a child Jerome, " Adam had beaten him to it.

"Just don't worry about how others see you, alright? There's no need to be ashamed of this. It's something your going to need help with. Your uncle still does. Your parents go through similar things as with everyone else on this ship." He looked over at his husband while speaking.

"It's not a burden on anyone. We're family, we want to help. " Shiro blushed slightly. He had similar insacurities and would try to hide his panic attacks from Adam.

Jerome nodded silently before letting out and 'okay'. Shiro had wanted to ask him about the general but decided now wasn't the best time. "I don't want to sleep, " Jerome mumbled with thick, heavy eyes.

"I know you don't, but you really should. Uncle Adam and I are right here, we'll protect you. " Jerome shook his head. "You can't protect me from things in my head. You can't protect me from stuff in the past, " he argued.

"But we can protect you from things in the future. " Shiro suddenly came up with an idea. He smirked mischievously at Adam who looked a bit wary. "Everything except well... The tickle monster, " he spoke calmly before Jerome dissolved into giggles.

It was a cheer up method he'd used on Keith growing up, it worked pretty well in his nephew too! Adam ran his fingers up and down the small back, as Shiro played with his ear.

Jerome giggled happily and sleepily, not putting up much of a fight. "It tickles, " he squeaked as Adam began to trace his side, he stopped when he felt a bump under the thin shirt. "You weren't going to bed were you? " Jerome shook his head.

"Good, you should sleep with this on," he lectured as he pulled on the bottom of the binder softly. It was like having four parents, it really was. The eighteen year old squirmed slightly, as demanding more physical attention.

His uncles gladly gave into the request tickling under his arms and his belly. "Nahahah, " he squealed happily. "Does it tickle? Huh, " Shiro teased. Jerome nodded happily, exposing more of his body for acsess.

Both adults chuckled briefly before tickling their nephew to tears. By the time they stopped loud foot steps could be heard echoing down the hall. The door slammed open revealing both Lance and Keith in their armor.

They were panting heavily, a look of panic on their faces. "Jerome, " they exclaimed in sync. The boy remained against his uncle as he put his hand up to slightly wave. Adam and Shiro gave a smile before allowing the parents their rightful places.

"Sleep tight kid, " Shiro said before ruffling the boy's hair. Adam copied the motion before they left the room.

"Baby, you okay? " Keith was practically smothering him. "Yeah dad, I'm okay. " Lance was quietly holding him. Whenever it came room the six month absence he got like this. His depression just came rushing back.

"We love you, " he spoke softly.

"I love you guys too. "

[pearlsplaidspistols]

Chapter Six: Tuesday’s Child

Happy Mother’s Day! I’ve had this chapter written and ready to post for a while ... and then I realized I could post it on Mother’s Day! What’s Mother’s Day without a good birth scene? I’ve watched WAY too many seasons of Call the Midwife for the stereotypical hysterical-screaming/ jump-cut editing crap, so this turned out kind of long. I could be persuaded to write Jamie’s perspective as well, if there’s an interest. ;)

Monday, November 22nd, 1543; Beauly, Scotland. Claire.

Mid-day.

Jamie entered the room with our lunch and a cheery greeting. I arched my aching back as I reached my arms over my head and stretched in the large, feather bed. I mumbled something in reply, not fully awake yet from my third nap of the day.

At least, I thought it was the third. I wasn’t entirely sure if I fully woke up from the second. I certainly hadn’t left the bed between naps two and three.

The muscles of my abdomen cramped and a wave of nausea rolled over me. I had been having false contractions for a while now, but something had been off all day today.

This growing feeling of discomfort urged me to speak.

“Are you within the castle this afternoon?” I asked, trying to sound normal.

Jamie’s back was to me as he placed the tray on the table and began to set up our meal. “Nae, back to the stables wi’ me as soon as we’re done eatin’. Shall I bring ye anything special from the kitchens for dinner?”

Damn.

If the Laird had needed him within the castle, I could easily send for him if these mixed signals turned into anything of substance, but he was entirely too far out of reach in the stables.

I wasn’t sure how to ask him to stay without triggering some sort of childbirth panic alarm in my husband. Jamie had been hypersensitive to me this last week, ready to spring into action as soon as I gave the signal. If this wasn’t the beginning of my labor, I’d have a hovering husband and, quite possibly, an entire castle waiting for something to happen.

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” I sighed, while trying to think of a way to phrase ‘I think I’m in labor’ without actually saying ‘I’m in labor.’

“No’ hungry?” He turned, giving me a concerned look. “Ye should eat somethin’, mo nighean donn, or the bairn will complain, aye?”

The cramp strengthened, edging its way towards my lower back.

My voice shook as the feeling of discomfort within me inched closer and closer to pain. “I don’t think he’ll complain, he seems to be packing his bags at the moment.”

Jamie’s eyes grew large as understanding took hold. He stared at me, his mouth opening and closing silently like a fish out of water.

When he did find his voice, it was a good octave or two above normal. “Sh-should I fetch the midwife?”

“No!” I all but shouted. The last thing I needed right now was that decrepit old woman watching my every move.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I curled my legs up as far as they would go and pulled the blankets tighter around me. I heard him cross the room and kneel down on the floor beside me. His hand trembled as he tucked a curl behind my ear. Cracking my eyelids open just a little, I could see the panic in Jamie’s eyes. His chest heaved as he tried to remain calm.

“I think I’m having contractions, but I’m not really sure.” I whispered and brought my hand to his.

He leaned close, his nose brushing against mine, asking “Wha’ can I do, Claire?”

“Will you hold me?” All I wanted was to lay here and shut out the world, to feel his arms around me and take strength from his presence.

He crawled around me, easing himself into bed. I could feel every ounce of tension leave me as his body curled around mine. His arms, now steady and sure, gathered me close and I melted into him.

…

Dusk.

“You're pacing, Jamie.”

“Hmm?” He turned to me, mind somewhere else. “Oh, aye. I suppose tha’ I am.”

I hid a smile. My contractions were more than fifteen minutes apart and the pain was still manageable, but Jamie was coming apart at the seams.

His eyes refocused on the present and he grinned sheepishly at me. “Am I botherin’ ye, mo nighean donn? Should I pace in the other room?”

“If you so much as touch that door handle, James Fraser…” I threatened, not entirely sure what I would do.

The smile broadened as he held up his hands surrender. “I willna.”

A spasm began and I realized we hadn't really talked about his part in these proceedings.

“Promise?” I begged.

“I promise I willna leave until ye tell me to.” He vowed as he bent forward to kiss me. “An’ even then, the midwife will have to tear me away from yer side.”

The idea of giving birth without him in the room had never crossed my mind. Even in my time, husbands rarely attended the births of their children and I expected it was even more rare in the sixteenth century.

“You won't really leave, will you?” I asked, dodging his caress. ”I need you to stay with me.”

He looked entirely skeptical, “Ye willna want me here when--”

“I'm can’t do this alone, Jamie, not again. I can’t -- I won’t -- do this without you.” Cutting him off, I grabbed hold of him, desperate to make him understand. “Please don't ask me to.”

“If that is what ye wish, mo chridhe, nothing on this earth will move me.” He assured me, his face held a hint of doubt that I would really still want him at my side a few hours from now.

I let him kiss me then, his touch full of support.

We would do this as we did everything: together.

…

Around midnight.

“What are we at now?” I asked as a contraction gained momentum, trying to breath normally. They were in a definite pattern, each one a little closer to and stronger than the last.

Jamie checked the small pocket watch that miraculously had been in his sporran when we went thru the stones. “Tha’ was ten minutes between,” he answered as I gripped the back of a chair.

Swaying my hips slowly side to side, I tried to find relief from the pain. Jamie came up behind me and started to massage the spasming muscles of my lower back.

“Mmm,” I encouraged him. “Right there.”

The baby shifted suddenly and I desperately reached behind me for my husbands hands. I half pulled him in front of me, half turned turned towards him and buried my face in his chest.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Fucking Christ, this bloody hurts.” I groaned.

Jamie's head lowered to mine, gently kissing the top of my head. “I'm sending for the midwife after this one is done, mo nighean donn.”

I nodded but didn't speak.

We began to sway again, Jamie half singing, half speaking a sort of lullaby to me in Gaelic.

“Jamie?” I interrupted. “I love you, but you are a terrible singer.”

…

About 4:00 am

“Damn,” I muttered as a stream of amniotic fluid ran down my legs. “Here we go.”

“Ye havena used that one in a while, Sassenach.” Jamie commented, nodding with approval as he stepped out of the way of the growing puddle on the floor. The midwife came over to inspect the discharge and clean the mess, moving us to the side.

Having just come out of a contraction, I was taken completely off guard as another followed quickly on its heels. “Fuck,” I groaned and pressed my forehead into Jamie's chest.

He dug his thumbs into my lower back, rubbing slow circles into my taut muscles.

His voice was low and soothing, “I ken, a ghraidh, I’ve got ye.”

Like hell he knows.

I grabbed a fistful between his legs and squeezed hard. Jamie yelped, sounding something like a teenage boy going thru puberty. This made the midwife cackle with glee and my esteem for her rose about tenfold.

She spoke to Jamie and he muttered something in response as he held me at arm's length.

“What was that?” I asked when I could speak again.

Jamie’s eyes, still wide with surprise, flicked from me to the midwife and back again. “She says she's surprised ye havena done tha’ wi’ every pain.”

“You hadn't said anything stupid enough to warrant it before now.” I cocked an eyebrow at him.

Another comment came from the midwife and I watched as my husband slowly turned pink with embarrassment.

I tried to smile, “You have to tell me what she said to make you blush like a schoolgirl.”

“She said tha’...” He paused, shifting from foot to foot, one hand going to the back of his neck. “Tha’ I must be a verra good lover for ye to want me here an’… tha’ I must have bawls o’ iron for no’ runnin’ for the heather a’ my first opportunity.”

I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him, the midwife sounding her approval from somewhere behind me. “She’s got one thing right. You are a verra good lover,” I mimicked his burr and he grinned, “but it’s your heart of gold that’s keeping you here.”

…

Around 6:00 am

“Jamie,” I moaned, “I think want to lie down.”

We slowly made our way towards the bed, each step an effort. I leaned into Jamie as a contraction tore thru me. He held me steady at the side of the bed while the midwife prepared it.

I tried to find a comfortable position against the pillows, shifting this way and that, but was quickly becoming more and more agitated instead of relaxed.

“Sit behind me,” I implored Jamie. He carefully crawled onto the bed and I melted into him.

Perfect.

His arms came around me as he whispered in my ear, “I'm here, mo chridhe.”

Each contraction was bringing the baby lower and lower, the reality that I would have to push soon was beginning to sink in. Panic surged thru me and I tried to move even further backwards into Jamie, away from the midwife at my feet.

“I don’t want to do this, Jamie!” I cried.

He helped me move into a different position, but didn’t loosen his grip even for a moment.

“Aye, a ghraidh, I ken ye dinna, but ye must,” he crooned in my ear.

“No!” I shook my head, every fiber of my being rebelling against the growing swell of another contraction.

He shifted me in his arms until I could see his face One hand caressed my cheek as he kissed me. It wasn’t long, but filled with the assurance of his presence. The tip of his nose brushed against mine as he spoke, “We’ll do this together, aye? I’ll be yer strength when ye need me.”

“I always need you,” I whispered.

…

“I need to push,” I panted as the urge suddenly overwhelmed me.

Jamie translated for me and I saw the midwife shake her head, motioning for me to wait.

Damn it, I couldn’t wait.

“No with this one. She says ye are’na” he hesitated, trying to find the correct word in English. “--open-- enough yet.

I groaned, the sound almost a growl at the back of my throat, and dug my fingers into Jamie’s leg as I tried not to heed to my body’s command. He pried them free and entwined his fingers in mine. I pushed against him as I felt the baby descend further into the birth canal. “Fuck!” I shouted.

He smiled, “Tha’ is wha’ got us into this mess to begin wi’, aye?”

“You bloody Scot,” I moaned as the contraction eased.

…

I had been pushing for what felt like hours and the baby still wasn’t here.

“He’s too big,” I whimpered. “I can’t push anymore.”

Jamie crooned in my ear, “Aye, mo nighean donn, the bairn is big, but he is almost here. All is well.”

All is not fucking bloody well.

“I want to be done.” I begged. “I just want to hold my baby, Jamie.”

He brought my hand down between my legs, brushing my fingers against the emergence of our child’s head. “Soon, mo chridhe, ye will hold him soon.”

As if his words triggered something deep inside me, a contraction started up and I gave it all I had left and then some. The midwife said something in an encouraging tone, helping me position my legs to do so again. Her voice rose in urgency as she nodded with approval.

Another contraction came on the heels of the last and I cried out with the force of it. The burning sensation between my legs turned knife-like, pulsating as the baby’s head began to crown.

“Wait, dinna push.” Jamie relayed the midwife’s instructions, his head next to mine. “Let the contraction do the work on this one, she says.”

I threw my head hard against him, digging my heels into the bed as I felt the baby’s head slowly leave my body.

“Well done, verra well done!” he praised. The midwife’s hands brushed against me as she said something and Jamie translated, “Jest one more an’ the bairn will be here, a ghraidh,”

With a final heave, my baby slipped into the world.

All the pain of the last twenty hours was gone in an instant, replaced with indescribable joy as I heard my baby cry for the first time.

The midwife chattered away and Jamie’s voice caught as he translated, “She’s a lass, Claire.”

“Shh, love. Mama’s here,” I whispered in awe as the midwife handed me my squalling, slippery daughter.

Jamie brought his hand along side her plump cheek, fingers hovering a thin, translucent membrane that covered her face. The sense of wonder and excitement heightened as I realized what it was. She’d been born in a caul. I didn’t know the statistics, what did numbers matter anyway, but I knew this was an incredibly rare occurrence.

A warm tear dropped onto my shoulder as I heard Jamie murmur in amazement, “A dhia, Claire, she’s beautiful.”

[holisticdeductions-blog]

I saw a text post about Dirk refusing to let the Blackwing people take his Mexican Funeral shirt and I wrote this

"Not now." The auburn haired man groaned, as his eyes met those of the new face of Project Blackwing. He bit his lip, as the other man hadn't moved yet, he just stood and smirked. Dirk had to decide if he was going to run, and he had to do it quick. Without much more thought, the holistic detective took off into the opposite direction, and just as suspected the CIA agent was quickly on his tail. It didn't take long for Friedkin to catch up to Dirk, and he grabbed the lankier man. "I don't have time for this today, please leave me alone." He almost begged, trying to get out of the stronger man's grip. The agent just laughed, and half dragged him down the sidewalk. The holistic detective felt his heart rate increase, he was terrified, he didn't want to /ever/ go back to HQ, especially now. "Todd! Farah! Anyone!" He yelled, still attempting to squirm away from Friedkins' hold. The CIA agent chuckled, and Dirk felt the barrel of a gun poke his ribs. "If you don't shut up, I will not hesitate to shoot you." Friedkin mumbled, just loud enough for him to head. The psychic gulped and nodded. Friedkin then held Dirk against the van, easily cuffing his hands behind his back. "Ouch." He mumbled, as the agent pushed him into the back of the van. He heard a click, and his cuffs were attached to the wall. "Guess these guys are rouge wall enthusiasts." The holistic detective chuckled to himself, earning weird looks from the other two agents who were sitting in the back with him. Friedkin got up in the drivers' seat, and they were off. Dirk could feel panic bubbling inside his body, but one of the things being a detective taught him that freaking out isn't a smart move, he held back the urge to completely lose it, stuffing old Blackwing memories back into the basement of his brain. Maybe if he was annoying enough they'd let him go. "You know this is a mistake." He began, and cleared his throat. "The universe isn't going to be happy with you, it'll send you bad karma." Dirk added, in his best attempt to sound tough and assertive. The van took a sharp turn, he yelped and fell back on his bum, and he didn't bother to try and reposition himself. "When my friends notice I'm gone they'll call the police, cause you bloody wankers just hauled me off the street! Yeah that's right, they know about you. I have no secrets with them." He said, then remembered that these guys are CIA so that wouldn't actually work, but they didn't need to know he bluffed. His stomach twisted and turned with anxiety, but he had to keep it down, and continue being assertive. "You know, taking people into vans against their will is a huge turn off to ladies." He laughed, and gave himself a high five through the cuffs. Dirk saw Fridkin's eyebrows rise from the rear view mirror. "Oh my god do you ever stop talking?" He half growled. "Um no not really, you're not the first person to ask me that." The holistic detective replied with a chuckle. Friedkin gave one of the other agents a look, and they nodded. The female agent took out a roll of duct tape and quickly placed it over Dirk's mouth. "Much better." The agent driving laughed. The psychic's body began to shake, he was now disarmed. Flashbacks that he had managed to push away for sixteen years came flooding into his brain all at once, and they fought for a feature. Images of Dirk's past at the HQ flashed into his thoughts. He knew he couldn't panic, especially since they were almost back. He had to look and feel courageous, so that once he was armed again, his weapon of wit was ready to fire again. He felt a lump in his throat. /c'mon Dirk fight back./ He thought of Amanda, Farah, switching Lydia back, escaping a burning house, hugs, laughter, playing music., crawling in windows... Todd. This time going into Blackwing, Dirk Gently wasn't alone, and he knew that his friends would come find him, and get him out of that hell hole for good. Dirk felt his anxiety decrease, though it wasn't fully gone. He felt the van stop, and two sets up hands dragging him out of the vehicle and up on his feet. Friedkin ripped the tape off. "Ow, do you enjoy hurting others?" The holistic detective asked him, as the agents lead him towards a door. "You're just a wimp." The 'macho' agent scoffed in reply. "Am not." He pouted. "I honestly feel bad for Riggins, cause he got stuck with you." The female agent laughed. "You're a funny man, Icarus, but Riggins is no longer with us." At that, Dirk felt his stomach drop. If the old man wasn't leading the project, than who was? "How many times do I have to tell you, that's not my na-." He was cut off by the opening doors. His blue eyes scanned the area, and his body started shaking again. The bad memories Dirk has been working so hard to erase all came back in a storm of furry. He tried to break away from the agents, but they just held him tighter. It was useless. He then came face to face with a woman. "Hello, welcome home Project Icarus." She greeted with a grin. Dirk shook his head, this place was and never will be his home. "It's hardly a welcome or a home, and my name is Dirk.... who are you?" He tried to keep his voice from cracking, but he failed. The strange woman smiled in response to the lanky male's fear. "Yeah whatever Icarus." She completely ignored what Dirk said. "I'm Wilson, and I'm now in charge of this project." All of a sudden, the holistic detective felt like he was shrinking. "Wilson please, this project has failed and I'm not causing any harm, just let me go." He fell into panic mode, and was holding back tears. "I can't do that." The boss replied with a smirk, then nodded to the agents and they dragged Dirk towards a cell. When he got out sixteen years ago, he was under the impression that he'd never have to see this place again. "Let me go! I'm harmless. Please, I have friends now! And work to do! I have a life! Let me out of here!" His cries were useless, and the agents took off his cuffs, and pushed him into a cell, locking it quickly. Dirk was terrified, he hasn't felt this scared in sixteen years, even when the Rowdy 3 used to feed off his psychic energy, or all the times he almost died during the Lydia Spring case, or when Todd said he didn't want to be friends anymore. He sat on the bed, and brought his knees to his chest. "You'll be okay Dirk, it'll be fine." He told himself between sniffs. "Look at little Icarus all alone." Wilson taunted, looking into his cell. "Where's your group of stupid weirdo friends now?" She laughed, and ran a hand through her hair. "They'll find me, and destroy this place once and for all." He replied, his voice a mixture of yelling and crying. "No they won't!" The boss answered in a sing song voice. A pair of clothes that looked like something a hospital patient would wear dropped from an opening in the ceiling beside him. "Since you're staying for a while, you might want to get comfortable". Wilson laughed. Dirk shook his head, there was no way he was changing out of what he has on. He's wearing Todds' old band shirt, and it gave the psychic an odd sense of comfort and hope. "No." He replied, and tried to look the evil woman in the eyes. "Or else." Wilson chuckled, and grabbed some kind of metal pole thing. She clicked a button, and bright blue sparks came out of the top. The holistic detective gulped, he's already been thrown around enough today. He sighed in defeat, and took off his pants, jacket and shirt. He was now standing in his boxers and undershirt. He put on the other clothes, and looked in the mirror with a sigh. "Good boy." The boss smiled, and in a moment of anger, Dirk gave her the middle finger. /something he learned from Amanda./ "I'm a human, you wanker." He spat. Wilson gasped. "You can't throw such gestures and speak like that to me, Icarus." A vacuum from the ceiling sucked up his clothes, but he just grabbed Todd's shirt and held onto it tightly. "Let it go Icarus." "No." "If you don't, I'll..." "I don't care. Dirk moved away from the vacuum and sat on the floor. His eyes filled with tears again. Blackwing had already taken him away from his new life, he wasn't about to let Todd's shirt, the one thing that gave him an odd sense of comfort and hope, be taken too. "Okay then, I didn't want to do this the hard way but." Wilson said, and Dirk's cell door opened. Two muscular security guards came in, one grabbed the holistic detective by his waist and the other tried to pry the shirt out of his hands. "Stop please, I need this." Dirk felt weird saying that he needed an old shirt, but if he was to keep his weapon (his chatter and wit) full of amo, he needed this hope and comfort. The guard shook his head, and kept pulling on the shirt. He didn't care that tears were falling, or that the guards and Wilson are witnessing him cry. He wasn't about to give up this shirt without a fight. He kicked the guard. "You'll. Have. To. Take. This. From. My. Dead. Body." He sniffed. The guard quickly regained a hold of the shirt and it ripped. "You cock!" Dirk cried, as he used all his strength and energy to try and keep the guard from taking the other piece of Todd's shirt. Wilson and Friedkin were watching from the other side of the glass. "What's with Icarus and the shirt?" The boss asked the agent. "It's his friend, Todd Brotzman's." Friedkin answered. "Todd Brotzman huh? Interesting." Wilson chuckled, and with that they went to her office, while Dirk was still panicking and fighting for the old band shirt.

[sunflowersupremes]

The Mutiny: Chapter 3

Anger over the exile and lack of payment for Peter caused Yondu’s crew to consider mutiny. By the time Peter was ten, tensions were at a boiling point, finally spilling over just like the soup pot the mutineers planned to stick him in.

Yondu hadn’t felt so helpless in years, not since before his rescue. But with his arrow out of commission and his implant overheating there was little he could do to prevent his former crew from selling him back to the Kree.

Stakar was conflicted. On the one hand, it served Yondu right to have his crew turn on him after he had turned his back on the code. On the other, it was a little too ironic that the man whose action had saved him from slavery was going to condemn him to return through inaction.

An AU in which the mutiny happens much, much earlier and help comes from the most unlikely of places.

Characters: Peter Quill, Yondu Udonta, Stakar Ogord, Taserface (Marvel), Gef (Marvel), Martinex T'Naga, Aleta Ogord

Additional Tags: Cannibalism, Child Abuse, Death, Suicidal Ideation

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“You gonna come out of there kid?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

Peter and Stakar stared at each other, the former wedged safely out of reach of the later in the Starhawk’s vents.

Almost as soon as Peter had placed the call to Martinex, the Pluvarian had gotten to the Elector’s brig with a medical crew, and Yondu had been stabilized. Peter had lost track of everything that had happened since, all he knew was that Stakar had kept ahold of his shoulder as they left the Elector and drug him aboard an M-Ship to Stakar’s warship, the Starhawk. Yondu had been taken away from them immediately upon arrival, and Peter had taken the few seconds of confusion when Stakar had been explaining why his implant was in pieces to run.

Although the Starhawk seemed much newer than the Elector (it was certainly cleaner and a lot more sparkly) it had a pretty similar layout and he had no trouble at all finding a vent to cram himself in. Unfortunately, he had picked one that abruptly got smaller about 20 feet in, and so his escape was cut off. Stakar had found him pretty much immediately after, now the two were having an intense standoff.

“You hungry?”

Peter’s stomach turned, the last time he had even thought of food he had almost become the main course. “No.” He had hardly spoken to anyone since the whole ordeal had started, only answering Stakar’s numerous question with monosyllabic grunts or simple yes and no answers. He wasn’t sure what he thought of all the new people they were subjecting him to, but he was certain he preferred Yondu and his Ravagers. At least with them, he had known which ones were friends and which ones were enemies. With these new Ravagers, he had no idea.

Stakar sighed, clearly unused to dealing with kids. At least he didn’t have a magical arrow to force Peter out of the vents. “Please come out?”

“No.”

They lapsed into silence again. After a short while, Stakar’s comm buzzed and he clicked to answer it, clearly pleased by the interruption. “We’ve found Obfonteri.”

Kraglin! Peter sat up, more attentive than before. Stakar didn’t fail to notice, still watching Peter as he asked, “He alive?”

“If he’s not, Yondu’s gonna gut someone!” Stakar ignored Peter.

“More or less.”

“Bring him on board,” Stakar said, “and send someone down to watch the kid.”

“I can watch myself!” Peter shouted, wishing they would just go away and let him find his way into a more useful vent. Preferably one he could use to sneak to the medical facilities to check on Yondu.

Stakar ignored him, still speaking with whoever was on the other end of the line. Peter curled miserably in on himself, wanting to disappear further into the vents, or just disappear completely. Try as he might, he couldn’t rid himself of the things Taserface had said to him, once they had drug him from the ventilation shafts.

He squeezed his eyes shut and slid his hand into his pocket, grabbing ahold of one of the metal chunks Stakar had removed from Yondu’s implant. He ran his fingers across the metal, whimpering slightly. He barely noticed when Stakar switched off his guard with another man, this one staring down the shaft at him intensely. Instead, he pulled several of the larger pieces of Yondu’s implant out to stare at them, running his grubby fingers over the rough edges curiously. When he’d first been captured by the Ravagers he had wanted nothing more than to touch Yondu’s implant, thinking it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. Yondu hadn’t allowed it of course, and somehow it wasn’t as fun while he wasn’t sure if Yondu was alive or not.

He needed to get to Yondu. They needed to get off this ship.

Shoving the shards of implant back in his pocket, Peter finally moved his head to survey his new guard. After a moment’s hesitation, he crawled forward, scrunching up his face as though he was about to cry. “I gotta pee,” he told the man.

“If you come out, I’ll show you where the toilet is.”

If Stakar was so determined to think Yondu was hurting him, then his crew probably thought that way too. Peter figured he might as well give them what they wanted. “Do you promise not to grab me?” he whimpered, managing to force a few tears into his eyes. “I- I don’t like being grabbed. It hurts.”

Predictably the man’s face softened. “Sure thing kid.” It seemed Stakar’s crew - or at least the man he’d handpicked to guard Peter - was just as soft as he was. Yondu always said that showing emotions was just baiting people to take advantage of them.

Peter edged out of the vent, his guard giving him a wide berth as he pointed him down the hall toward the toilets. “Just over there,” he said soothingly. “Then we’ll get ya cleaned up and something to eat.”

Whimpering a soft thank you, Peter edged into the bathroom, watching his guard the whole way as though afraid of turning his back on him. As soon as the door shut behind him he snapped into action, standing on top of the toilet and using it to access another vent, one that should be larger than his old one if it were anything like the Elector.

He pulled his thin frame inside and grinned when he saw the long expanse of the tunnel ahead of him. Bingo. As Peter crawled over the head of his still oblivious guard he felt a twinge of guilt for tricking the man.

“I ain’t tellin’ ya.”

Stakar resisted the urge to groan, biting back the noise in frustration. He’d never particularly been fond of Kraglin Obfonteri, the man had been Yondu’s pick to be First Mate, not Stakar’s, and he was fairly certain Yondu had picked him just to annoy his mentor. When he had followed Yondu into exile, seemingly never having questioned trafficking kids, Stakar had decided he liked him even less. Martinex, whom Stakar had left in charge on the Elector, had sent the man aboard the Starhawk in cuffs and Stakar had removed them, hoping it would gain him Obfonteri’s trust. It seemed it hadn’t.

Leaning back against the wall, he folded his arms over his chest. He was all too aware of how imposing his posture was, looming over Obfonteri who was sprawled comfortably at the table. The jackass didn’t even bother to seem intimidated, more annoyed. “All I’m asking is what Yondu is doing with that kid.”

“Ain’t my place to ta say.”

Alright. If he wasn’t going to get those answers then there were others he would be just as happy to ask for. “What caused the mutiny?”

“Capt’n’s business.”

Fucker. Stakar was through dealing with him, it was clear the man was loyal to a fault. “Alright,” he said after a pause. “You can sit in the brig and think this over.”

Obfonteri had the nerve to look offended, so Stakar continued, “I don’t give a damn if you were involved in this mutiny or not. The way I see it, the First Mate’s job is to question the captain. Tell me: you ever try and stop Yondu from trafficking kids or try and let any of us know before it was too late? Before any of them died?” Ignoring the other man’s glare, he turned to the man who was tasked with watching Obfonteri. “Arket, you think Martinex would let me get away with breaking the code?”

“No, sir!” Arket shook his head quickly. Stakar smirked at Obfonteri.

“Get him out of my sight,” he said to Arket.

“One thing,” Obfonteri said as they started to put the cuffs back on him. “Whats you savin’ the cap’n for if ya’s so mad at us?”

Stakar bristled. Then he shoved by Kraglin with a snarl of, “No funny business. You aren’t Ravagers anymore, cause any trouble and my men are authorized to shoot on sight.”

Apparently, the man didn’t know when to stop. “Ain’t outta the goodness o’ yer heart, Cap’n reckons you ain’t got one.”

Stakar turned sharply on his heel, fully prepared to punch Kraglin in the face, but before he could the man’s head jerked back and blood spurted from his nose. Arket at least managed to look slightly apologetic as he pulled his fist back from the now unconscious man. “With all due respect, he had it coming.”

The admiral shrugged. “The way I see it, it’s easier to get him to the brig this way.”

He waited until Arket was out of sight with Kraglin’s limp body - he’d be fine, Stakar had seen him take a hell of a lot worse - to pinch the bridge of his nose and groan. This day just can’t get any worse, he thought bitterly, wondering at what point he could dump all his duties on Martinex and get himself something to drink. Not soon enough.

His comm buzzed. He clicked to answer it. “Kid’s missing,” said the voice on the other side. Oh hell.