#she is warm enough and her heartbeat is strong enough to make up for many kinds of absence

[hauntedfalcon]

("make the au more fucked up, I dare you" you say? well, who am I but to oblige)

marion hid the scar from his father for an entire year. a physical mark can be covered up, but how do you hide the absence of a daemon? a little kid wandering around, a dead canary clutched in his hands, and suddenly there's no more birdsong following him about. he has to hide her, because even if she's not moving she's gotta be alive, because he's alive, and he knows with a seven-year-old's certainty that if the adults notice then they might get rid of her. he finds an empty matchbox for when she's a butterfly and tries to keep her in his biggest most comfortable shirt pocket when she's a bird and he tells the finnerty boys - all three of them, with their shepherd dog souls nipping at their heels - that they've made a game of seeing how long she can stay hidden for, or that she's asleep in his pocket, or that she's right over there but she's pretty small so maybe you just can't see her, and ignores the sensation, the creeping dread, that something vital inside him is rotted. (sean finds out, and so do his brothers, and he swears them all to secrecy. in the end, it's his own slip-up that gets him caught.)

jinnah watches her father cut the boy away from the dead bird, and tries to remember the feeling of insect's legs walking along the back of her hand. he kicks and screams in all the ways she didn't, watching it turn from avian to insect to avian to nothing but dust, and she wonders - only for a moment - if the empty hole in her would have finally settled into a beetle, or a spider, or a maybe even a snake, like the great python winding about her father's neck.

okay all right okay you know what

I was just thinking about how maybe in this universe, maybe the first time Sean understands that a soul isn't the same thing as a conscience

isn't necessarily all the times that his Saoirse doesn't keep him from getting into trouble, what kind of daemon would she have been if she stopped him from doing stupid stuff

but maybe it's the time that he looks up after finishing that mission for Dr. Nero, and sees Saoirse returning to him with the remnants of blue and gold Dust on her jaws, already fading away to nothing

[newwritergirl]

Starting over | Part 21

Masterlist

Summary: Thanks to the Admiral pulling some strings y/n is discharged from the hospital right into the care of Bradley and Jake.

Trigger warnings: 18+, minors DNI, mentions of death, nightmare, injuries, soft Jake, crying, throwing up, pain

A/N: It took me very long to get this one out and I'm very sorry. Had an operation on my eye and I felt very exhausted for weeks. But enough of me: HERE IT IS! Thanks for reading and supporting my silly little story <3 I didn't read it very thorough for detecting mistakes, so sorry when there are too many.

Word Count: 6.7k +

The smell of the room is the first thing y/n notices when she slowly comes to. It's a clean odor with a hint of alcohol and gauze. Y/n knows that smell, she knows the feeling of the scratchy sheets, she's familiar with the noises coming from the busy hallway. The bright light hurts her head when she finally blinks her heavy eyes open. Is she back in the hospital when her ex tried to stab her to death? Was it all a dream and she's still in her hometown, in the hospital where she was some kind of regular, afraid Michael will step foot into her hospital room any minute? A moan is tumbling out of her sore throat. Her whole body hurts. Y/n's head is throbbing painfully. She still feels a painful tightness around her neck like there are still hands wrapped around it. She takes stock of her other injuries. Her lower back is on fire, like the first time when she woke up from the operation she had on her kidney. Her whole side hurts like hell like she was overrun by a truck. Blinking her eyes she tries to focus on her surroundings. She sees a figure in the corner of the room. He is here. Michael is here. Once again he plays the role of the caretaking boyfriend and told the story of the clumsy girlfriend. Probably she fell down the stairs. She knows these kind of stories he always tells the hospital staff. Another whimper can be heard in the room such as the heart monitor's beeping which is alarmingly increasing, signaling y/n's elevated heartbeat. The dark haired figure approaches the young woman's bed. Y/n can't help it but tries to sit up, she feels to vulnerable in the laying position. Probably Michael will give her an earful for being so whiny that he had to take her to the hospital for the ridiculous scratches he inflicted on her. Out of pain she pinches her eyes shut. Y/n doesn't accomplish to sit up in the hospital bed, too weak and the pain too prominent to make a proper move.

"Hey, Princess. It's okay…" She can hear the dark figure talk to her. The voice so soft and warm. This can't be Michael, he would never call her Princess or talk to her in such a caring voice. Cautiously she opens her eyes when she feels a warm and strong hand softly stroking over her hand which doesn't has an IV in its vein. Bradley, the dark figure in her hospital room is Bradley. She isn't back in the hellhole of her hometown.

"Roo-y…" She breathes out, nothing more than a painful hoarse noise.

"Yes, Princess. I'm here." The taller man towers over her but not in a scaring way. She feels safe with the brunette aviator by her side. He bends down and places a soft kiss on y/n's head before he takes the place in the uncomfortable chair beside her bed.

Slowly but surely the memories are coming back into the young woman's mind. The reason why she's in the hospital. Welsh assaulting her, driving home, laying on the cold bathroom tiles, Jake and Bradley finally being back home.

"You're home…you're finally h-home…" y/n whispers before a painful sob escapes her mouth and tears immediately wetting her pale face. Without any words Bradley sits down beside y/n on the hospital bed, taking her in his arms, as cautiously as possible afraid he could hurt her. Bradley cradles y/n's head into his chest, breathing in the scent he fell in love with the first time he stood close to her. She fists his shirt into her hand afraid he would disappear any second, with her other arm she holds the side of the broken ribs. The slightly elevated position of her upper body is hurting her but she needs to feel the safety of Bradley's warm and broad chest. He lets her cry for some minutes until her breathing is slowly going back into a normal pace. He gently lies her back down against the pillow but stays seated beside her on the hospital bed.

"You scared us, Princess!" Bradley speaks with his voice full of emotion and eyes filled with unshed tears. He will never forget the moment he and Jake saw her laying on the bathroom floor, unmoving and pale like they were already too late.

"s-sorry…" The young woman slurred clearly exhausted even after she rested the last two hours.

"WE are sorry, Princess. Get some more sleep." The brunette says while stroking softly over her cheek.

Her eyes start to flutter but she fights against the exhaustion.

"Jakey?" Y/n asks in nothing more than a whisper. She misses her other boyfriend and starts to worry where he might be.

"He's on a coffee run, Princess. He will be back when you wake up."

In fact Jake talked to the Admiral and to Mav and is now outside to cool off. His rage is over the roof, he's never felt this huge desire to kill someone. In case he gets this Welsh guy into his hands, the perv is not going to last long. He touched, harassed and hurt their girlfriend. He tried to rape her and now she is in the hospital with severe injuries. He has no right to live any longer if you ask Jake.

---

Y/n tried to fight off sleep for nearly ten minutes but the pain and exhaustion are clearly visible on her pale face. But she needs to see Jake. She needs to know that he is okay. The overwhelming fear to lose Jake because he can't handle the situation or worse, he is distgusted with her, is keeping her awake.

"Brad- Roo…" Y/n whispers to get Bradley's attention.

"Hey, Princess. You still with me?" The brunette pilot looks up from his mobile and directly in the painfilled eyes of his girlfriend. "You okay? Are you in pain?" Bradley slightly starts to panic when he sees y/n's shaking hands which are resting on top of the scratchy hospital blanket.

"J-jaake…" Pain and exhaustion and the fear for her other boyfriend are too prominent in her brain that building a coherent sentence seems too difficult for the young woman. She just needs both her boyfriends and she wants to go home. Too bad are the memories she has from her last stay in the hospital. The sterile white room in the hospital in her hometown was a lonely jail cell for her. The nurses, doctors and her boss were her only visitors. The trauma of being hurt and alone is making her increasingly panicky.

"Please…" Y/n whines. It brakes Bradley's heart even more to see his girlfriend so desperate and in pain.

"I go get him, okay Princess?" Despite Bradley's grasp for the situation, hell he is just in as much rage as Jake, but he needs to get Jake's ass in this hospital room before y/n works herself up even more.

Pain and exhaustion is quickly replaced by pure fear. Y/n eyes always seem to be the key to her soul and Bradley and Jake learned to read her easily over the last two years they lived together but now it's like her eyes are screaming agony and fear. He feels a cold and shaking hand grips his wrists tightly.

"D-don't leave me, please. Don't leave me too…" y/n begs him with her eyes wide open. Does she really think Jake left her? Just another reason for the brunette aviator to find their partner and bring him to their girlfriend before this situation gets out of hand.

"Princess, hey look at me." He softly puts his thumb under her chin and strokes her pale cheek. "We're not going to leave you. We are here for you, no matter what! We love you."

"J-jake went away…" She looks confused with her eyes now glazed over, the fever hitting her full force one more time. Bradley feels the heat radiating from her face into his hand. Y/n clearly thinks Jake left her after what has happened to her.

"Oh baby. He didn't left us. He just had to take care of some things. I'll be back with him okay? I hurry up…" He slowly stands up and strides to the door like a man on a mission.

---

In the distance Bradley can make out the tousled blonde hair, which is under normal circumstances perfectly styled. Today it looks like it has been attacked by all ten fingers of the aviator pacing in front of the glass doors of the ER.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bradley's harsh words interrupting the pacing pilot. Bradley understands the turmoil Jake finds himself in right now. He feels the exact same but Bradley accomplished to prioritize and puts y/n first and didn't let the rage he feels become the better of him.

Jake immediately turns around when he hears the strained voice of his partner.

"Is Y/n okay?" Is the first thing Jake has in mind. Why is Bradley here and not with their girlfriend? Something must've happened that the brunette pilot left y/n's hospital room.

"No, she's not okay, Hangman. She is exhausted, in pain and traumatized and she thinks you left her. So instead of swaying your cocky ass out here you could be with your girlfriend who is on the verge of a panic attack." Now it was Roosters time to blow off some steam.

Jake drops his gaze, his shoes now the most interesting item in the waiting room. He knows he has to be with her. He wants to be with her, but his rage was so overwhelming that he thought he couldn't stand the sight of their girlfriend, hurt and in pain.

Bradley takes a step closer to his partner and squeezes his shoulder in a soothing manner.

"Hey. I'm sorry… I know you're just as concerned as I am. But please, she needs us both right now. Let the team and the military police look for that son of a bitch."

---

The guilt really hits Jake hard when he opens the door to y/n's hospital room and sees his girl silently crying. Her wet cheeks flushed from fever her eyes glazed over. With shaking hands she tries to dry her wet face but she is startled when she hears the door to her room close. She sees the blonde aviator drawing closer to her. But she can't believe her eyes. By now her feverish brain told her the story of her being alone again, Bradley and Jake away living their peaceful life without her seemingly increasing baggage.

Y/n looks like a dear in the headlight when she finally feels the comforting touch of the blonde Navy man.

"Cupcake. I'm here now, I'm not gonna leave you." He grabs the hand without the IV line and places a soft kiss on her warm skin. Y/n shudders from the soft touch of Jake's lips. Behind the blonde man slowly approaches Bradley, relieved to see his two partners now finally together and y/n calmer than previously without Jake. 

"Sleep, babygirl. Roo-y and I will be here when you wake up." Finally y/n can let the exhaustion and the medication take over and her glassy eyes fall shut.

---

"She still asleep?" Bradley whispers when he enters the hospital room with two steaming hot cups of coffee. Jake and Bradley were allowed to stay the night in y/n's hospital room, after the Admiral pulled some strings at the military hospital. It was absolutely not negotiable that either Jake nor Bradley leave y/n alone in the night. Due to the heavy medication to keep the fever and the pain in check y/n slept rather deep despite waking up from two nightmares and the fear of being alone in the sterile atmosphere of the unkown hospital. Fortunately both pilots were able to calm her down quickly.

Now shortly before the medical round of the head physician and the assistant medical directors they have to wake y/n up to check if she's more coherent than yesterday.

"I talked to the doctor and the Admiral just now, we can bail her out when her fever is down. They want to keep her for more days but the Admiral gave us the support to take her home. For the sake of her recovery and for her safety. I made it clear that she will be safer at home with us than here at the hospital." Bradley talks in a hushed tone not to disturb the sleeping woman.

When both men hear a faint whimper and the rustling of the sheets they both turn to look at y/n. She nearly looks lost in the hospital bed. The stark white sheets give nearly no contrast to her ghostly white face and her pale lips. Jake is the first she sees when she blinks her eyes open. A soft smile forms on her lips. Jake kept his words from the night. He is still here and behind him she can also make out another familiar figure. She is not alone like the other times in her past that she woke up in a hospital bed. But this time she is not alone. Jake and Bradley are still with her.

"Good morning." She whispers with a smile on her lips despite her still aching throat.

"Good morning, baby." Jake says between the kisses he places on her small hand. "What's that smile?" He asks in his cocky and flirty tone she loves so much.

"Missed you both, now you're back and I'm happy." Y/n croaks out, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence. Jake bends over her laying body and places a soft kiss on y/n forehead and lingers there a bit longer than necessary to feel her temperature. She seems more coherent than yesterday and her temperature also seems to be down. Jake wanders further down and places his plump lips cautiously on y/n's. He feels her smiling into his lips and hears a faint giggle. How he loves the way she giggles shyly when he kisses her.

"Hey, getting cozy without me?" Bradley talks rather amused and strokes his warm hand over y/n's tousled hair.

---

"Mrs. Y/ln due to the blunt trauma you suffered from a kidney contusion, blood in your urine such as nausea and pain is highly to expect in the next days and weeks. Fortunately your fever is currently down but you still have a slightly elevated temperature which is also common with your patterns of injury. Your broken ribs stay taped to keep them in place and reduce the pain. But I recommend regular intake of pain medication. The CT showed no bleedings, but the minor concussion can trigger headaches and dizziness. Your bruised throat will be uncomfortable for the next days but fortunately there is no damage to the vocal cords or the trachea." Y/n tries to listen carefully to the doctor who explains the extent of her injuries now that she is conscious and fully awake. Her whole body aches but there's nothing more than the wish to be discharged. She wants to go home, to feel the safety of their cozy house. That's reason she puts on a brave face.

"Under other circumstances I would keep you here, Mrs. y/ln, for at least two more days, but the Admiral and the two Lieutenants talked to me…" the doctor looks up from y/n and over to the two fidgeting and attentive listening pilots, "…and they all assure me and my colleagues that you will be in good care at home. Still we will stay in contact especially due to your kidney damage. So the nurse will get your discharge papers, medications and instructions ready and when you finish the IV you're free to go." The doctor explained politely.

---

Even though y/n wants to leave the hospital walking with her head held high she knows that it's either the wheelchair or one of her boyfriends carrying her to the car. Getting dressed in her own clothes, a soft leggings and one of her favorite hoodies from Jake or Bradley, she doesn't care, was her first obstacle. Her whole body hurts, the broken ribs screaming in pain and her bruised kidney is giving her a burning pain in her back let alone the dizziness from her concussion. She feels like her body is betraying her, it's a long time ago that she felt so physically weak. Even with a bad migraine attack she has some strength in her but now she feels like she could sleep for weeks, walking for more than some shaky steps seems too far away right now. Fortunately Bradley helped her with the ordeal of getting dressed while Jake organized a wheelchair and got some final instructions from the treating physician.

When she finally is fully clothed Bradley softly sits y/n back on the bed, waiting for Jake and the wheelchair. Before he can turn around and gather her personal items and the flowers and cards the Daggers send her, y/n grabs the brunette's hand to gain his attention.

"Thank you." She croaks out, "for taking me home. I know it's a lot and I'm so sorry…that you two have to deal with my mess after coming back home from deployment." Bradley softly shushes her by putting his forefinger on her plump lips. He lowers himself down, kneeling down in front of his smaller girlfriend.

"Princess, we would move Heaven and Hell for you. We are happy to take you home and take care of you. We love you!"

The door quietly opens with Jake stepping into the small hospital room. "Going down on your knees, Rooster? You couldn't wait until I'm back with both of you?!" The cocky pilot chuckles and squeezes the other man's shoulder.

---

"You wanna ride shotgun, shortcake?" Jake asks as he stops the wheelchair in front of his truck in the hospital parking lot. They finally managed to leave the hospital, excited to drive home to their cozy and warm house.

"Ehm, can you- can you sit with me in the back?" Y/n whispers afraid she would claim too much. Just getting ready and sitting in the wheelchair drained her to her limits. She feels her head swimming and pain radiating from her chest travelling in every fiber of her body. The young woman needs the physical contact right now and someone who gives her the safety she craved for the last two weeks.

"There's no place I'd rather be, my love." Jake kisses her head softly. The last thing the blonde aviator wants is to leave his girlfriend out of his sight. He already noticed her glazed over eyes which seem like they would fall shut any second. In the back of his head he asks himself if this was the right decision to take the injured woman home with them, but she will be comfier at home and they can keep a closer eye on her at their own house. In addition to that the Admiral positioned two Sergeants from the military police to observe their home until Welsh will be found and locked away, just in case the maniac chooses to come back and finish what he started. The Admiral was devasted when Mav called him and told him what has happened at the base during his absence. He felt and still feels a huge amount of guilt that something horrible happened to his IT-specialist at his base. So he pulled every string he could as a damage control even if he knows that he will never be able to make this unhappen.

"Rooster, you heard the lady. You're driving." Jake tosses his car keys in Bradley's direction.

---

The drive from the hospital to their shared home is not long but Jake immediately notices that it is stretching y/n to the limit. Just minutes after Bradley sets the truck into drive the woman starts to shake in Jake's arm. He sits in the middle of the bench seat y/n tucked into his side. He supports most her weight but still it seems to be more than exhausting for her to stay seated.

"You okay there, y/n?" The blonde looks down at her shaking body asking concerned.

 A quiet "mmh" Is the only thing he can hear as a reply from his girlfriend.

"Just five more minutes, Princess. Then we're finally back home together." Bradley shoots a worried glance at Jake in the rearview mirror.

Sitting in the back of the moving car hasn't ever been so exhausting for y/n than today. As much as she wished to be home in one of her boyfriends beds, the car ride is getting more and more painful. Her ribs screaming in agony and her swimming head is making her nauseous to the point where she is sure that she will puke into Jake's lap in the next two minutes. She pinches her nails into Jake's thigh to ground herself. Just some minutes and she will be home.

"You heard Roo-y? Some more minutes cupcake." Jake places a soft kiss on the younger woman's now sweaty forehead.

He lets out breath of relief when Bradley finally parks the car in their driveway. Getting y/n into their house is now the only left challenge before they can finally be together. He holds the shaking woman longer in his arms and waits for his partner to get out of the car and open y/n's door.

"I got her." Bradley mumbles when he gathers his girlfriend into his warm arms ready to carry her inside the house. With no complain from their girlfriend of being carried he knows that she is in real agony right now.

---

When her dizzy head hits the soft pillow and her aching body sinks into the most comfy mattress she's ever slept on she knows that she's finally home, safe and sound in Bradley's bedroom. The mattress dips and she feels a familiar hand stroking softly over her pale cheeks. Her tired eyes opening just a little bit.

"Princess, I know you're tired but before you can go to sleep you have to drink something and you're also due for your medication. Are you in pain?" The brunette asks in a loving tone.

Y/n opens her eyes fully, but hisses when the bright light which filters through the windows feels like hot iron in her head.

"I guess that was a yes. Jake is just preparing everything for you." She feels the mattress dip and a soft but big hand which is stroking over her hurting head.

 "-m dizzy and nauseous…" Y/n mumbles when Jake makes an appearance in Bradley's bedroom.

"Sweetcakes, just a glass of water and your medication. After that you can rest." The blonde aviator says.

---

The bedroom door is slowly opened with a creak. Faint lightning shining from the living room illuminates the otherwise dark room creating a ray of light like a dim spot light. Jake wonders why the bedroom opens when he is blinded by the light falling directly on his face until a dark shadow appears in the doorway. Immediately he looks to his right side. Bradley and y/n are sleeping peacefully beside him. An intruder. There's someone in their house and this stranger is now creeping into their bedroom. The blonde aviator feels his heart quicken its pace hammering painfully in his ribcage. But his body feels like frozen on the spot, he can't move. He has to stop whoever intrudes their personal space, the peace of their home. His limbs are too heavy to move. The stranger takes a step closer and now Jake can see his face. It's Welsh. This bastard is brave enough to break into their home and comes back now that Bradley and him are already back home. Jake keeps struggling but he feels like glued to the mattress. He shout over to his partner. He needs to alert Bradley. They have to keep y/n safe, at all costs. But the brunette aviator just keeps sleeping peacefully and also y/n doesn't wake up from Jake's panic-stricken screams. Welsh looks him directly into his eyes, showing his teeth in an ugly smile looking like a predator eying his prey.

But he is not there for Hangman or Rooster. He is there for her. He is there to end this whole ordeal. He is going to end her. After all she is responsible that he is banned from a Navy Base once again.

Jake screams and struggles to free himself of the invisible power which seems to hold him in a vice grip. He sees Welsh's big hands embrace y/n's delicate neck. His fingers looking like small but dangerous snakes enclosing around her neck his big thumbs are pressing on her throat. Y/n's eyes fly open when she feels two strong hands cutting off her oxygen feed. Desperately she tries to shove away the big hands which are suffocating her. She struggles, kicks but the young woman grows weaker every second she can't take in a proper breath until she is not moving anymore. The intruder slowly releases his deathly strong hold he has on her throat and admires his handywork. Y/n's head falls onto her side directly looking at Jake. Her eyes staring deadly into his. He couldn't safe her.

---

A hard kick hits y/n on her shin and wakes her up immediately. She lays curled into herself on her left side. Her eyes fly open from the sudden pain in her leg and she is greeted with a kicking and struggling Jake. His limbs are tangled completely in the covers. A chill runs over y/n body. Jake must've stolen the blanket during the night is now tangled in it. The three always sleep with just two blankets, at least one of them is always sharing his blanket with their girlfriend. She never wakes up chilly without a blanket draped over her body. This night was a first. Another blow just misses her concussed head. She needs to wake Jake up before he hurts her or himself. With her cold hand she touches his bare shoulder softly stroking up and down. She ignores her stiff body and the still lingering pain in all her limbs and especially her lower back and closes the space between them to whisper into Jake ear. 

"No, STOP!" The blonde aviator shouts which finally wakes up Bradley who slept peacefully through the night mere seconds ago.

"Jakey…" she starts but when his knee hits her directly into her stomach she lets out a loud painful moan. The wind is suddenly knocked out of the young woman completely. In pain she pinches her eyes shut too weak to create more space between her and the trashing pilot she sinks back into her pillow breathing rapidly.

Bradley needs some seconds to gain his bearings. Jake is shouting, y/n is moaning in pain, what the Hell is happening? When he hears the heavy breathing of his partner and the faint shallow attempt of a breath from his girlfriend in their middle he immediately turns around. His eyes are landing on the trashing and kicking blonde. He jumps out of the bed and sprints to the other side of the bed falling onto his knees with a loud thud. His hands immediately holding Jake's shoulders in a tight grip to prevent the blonde pilot from trashing and hitting further.

"Jake. JAKE!" Bradley talks in a loud voice. "HANGMAN!"

With a loud gasp Jake finally finds an exit out of his night terror. He is breathing heavily on the verge of hyperventilating. He looks directly into his partner's face which calms him down just a little bit before the vivid memories of his dream crashing back into his conscious mind.

"It was dream. Everything is okay! We are at home." Bradley doesn't know what demon had Jake in its claws but giving him the information that they're at home was the first one that came into his mind to calm down his sweating partner.

"Y/n." Jake's eyes grow wide and he turns his head around. He needs to make sure that this was just a dream that his girlfriend is still alive and peaceful sleeping in their bed.

"Hey calm down, okay. Shhh, we are okay." Bradley soothes Jake. He doesn't want to y/n getting scared by Jake's outburst. In that moment he remembers her painful moan and her ragged breathing from prior. So he lets his eyes wander from Jake's slowly calming face further over onto the middle of the bed.

She still hasn't moved from her fetal position eyes still pinched shut.

The blonde pilot cautiously sits up to also check up on his girlfriend. His first priority is always y/n. After checking up on her he has enough time to process his nightmare.

"B-baby?" He talks into her direction still a bit out of breath but immediately calmer to not scare her even more.

The young woman is shaking violently in her fetal position her arms cradling her body, her trembling hands on her abdomen. A moan is tumbling out of her slightly open mouth.

Bradley crawls on the other side of their girlfriend stroking gently over her back after he turned on the lamp on his nightstand. Jake tucks some loose wisps behind her ear to get better look at her face.

"Cupcake. Are you in pain?" Jake asks in a low voice when he sees her pain stricken face.

---

The blow to her abdomen was really powerful. Her lingering nausea now back full force. She feels Bradley jumping out of the bed and sprinting to Jake's side. Good. He can calm him down in the meantime she can try to breathe away the pain in her abdomen and lingering her nausea. Felling the bile creeping up her sore throat y/n completely blocks out the commotion beside her.

She doesn't know how much time ticked away when she feels a tender hand tucking loose hair behind her ear. "Cupcake. Are you in pain?" y/n hears the soft voice of the hand's owner.

"I-I…throw up." Are the only words she can come up with when the remains of the last drink she had is slowly creeping up her throat.

"Gonna pick you up, baby." Jake warns her before he picks his shaking girlfriend up. With Bradley in front of them he cautiously brings her into the master bathroom and slowly letting her down in front of the toilet.

---

"Here, some ice water. Slow sips, Princess." Bradley hands her the glass with the cool liquid. Throwing up is always an act of unpleasantness but with a concussion raging in her head and her beaten und bruised body throwing up was excruciating. Y/n is more than thankful for Jake holding up her upper body and now supporting her back with his warm chest while she's sitting on the cold tiles and sipping the cool water her other boyfriend just handed her. With her other hand she still cradles the place where Jake's knees made contact with her abdomen.

When she finishes the half full glass of water Bradley is quick to take the glass from her smaller hand.

"Are you in pain, Princess? You still holding your hand over your tummy." Of course Bradley doesn't miss her cradling the painful spot in her torso. Both men know the exact amount of injuries she has, they both seem like to have studied her medical report and the discharge papers. So both aviators are clearly aware that y/n hasn't issues with her abdomen when she was discharged earlier.

The young woman moves a bit in Jake arms to be able to look at her blonde boyfriend, completely ignoring Bradley's question. She needs to make sure Jake is okay. He had a bad nightmare, she's never saw him that agitated during his sleep. Normally he is calm but light sleeper. It's easy to wake him up and he never moves this much. It must've been a really bad nightmare, maybe from one of their former deployments?

"Jakey, " y/n starts to talk the blonde man who held her in his arms and lays the hand which is not holding her painful abdomen on his chest, directly over his heart, "you had a nightmare. Are you okay? It was really bad, I wanted to calm you down but you didn't wake up. I'm so sorry, I really tried…"

Jake can't hide the astonishment in his eyes when y/n tries to make sure HE is okay. He only had a nightmare, she is the one hurt after all.

"Baby, I'm okay. Please tell us if you're in pain. Do we need to take to the hospital?" Jake shifts her body in his arms to get a better look at y/n's face and to look her into her eyes.

"You screamed and you kicked…it was bad, wasn't it?" In that moment something klicks in his Jake's still muddled brain. He kicked and hit, he lashed out. Of course, in his dream he wanted to protect their girlfriend. While his body was frozen on place in his dream, it was well functioning in the real world. He gasps when realisation hits him.

"Did I hurt you, y/n?"

Bradley watches the exchange with an anxious feeling in his stomach. Hopefully Jake can keep his cool despite him instantly blaming himself for hurting their girlfriend even if it was unintentionally during a nightmare. He strokes softly over Jake's bare back to give him some soothing support.

"Baby?" Jake tries again to get an answer out of his girl.

"It's nothing, Jakey. Please don't be mad. I tried to calm you down and well my stomach connected with your knee."

Despite the serious situation Bradley lets out a small chuckle. This is typical y/n, of course she would  never admit that one of her partners is to blame for a situation in which she is involved. Even if Jake kicked her with his knee she turns it around making it look like she is the one to blame.

Jake feels his heart make a summersault and he feels it instantly dropping into his stomach. He hurt the most precious girl he has ever seen. Fuck.

"Baby…" he breathes out, "please let me see." As tender as he can he peels away y/n hand and starts to pull up the shirt their girlfriend is currently wearing to inspect the place where he accidently kicked her. Bradley also bends over Jake's shoulder to get a look at the injured woman in his partners arms.

A sigh of relief can be heard in the otherwise silent bathroom when there's no bruise to be in evidence.

"It's nothing. It was just the shock and my sensitive stomach. I was nauseous beforehand and that was just the catalyst." Y/n tries to downplay the whole situation and before Jake is able to stand up and give her chilly body over to Bradley she lets herself fall into his chest embracing him in a tight hug. "I love you Jake. I know would never intentionally hurt me."

Bradley places a soft kiss on the blonde aviators head and envelopes him from behind. The three don't know how long they enjoy each other's closeness when Bradley speaks up.

"Let's take this into bed, my loves. You're both are going hypothermic on the cold tiles."

The brunette stands up and rounds the bundle of human body in front of him.

"Let me take her…" He hushes to the blonde man still sitting on the floor.

Rooster bends down and presses a tender kiss on the other man's lips before he picks up y/n and carrying her back to his bed.

Finally back in the warmth of the bed Jake is still deep in thought, the dream, him hurting their girlfriend, her getting hurt during their absence, until he feels a familiar cold hand stroking over his chest.

"Jaaakey…" y/n dramatically whines. She feels Bradley spooning her smaller body from behind, his broad chest deliciously flush against her back. But she needs Jake just as much.

"Please come over to us. We miss you and I'm still cold…"

"Yes, Jakey. You heard the lady. We're cold." Bradley teases his boyfriend. He is not going to give the blonde the chance to disappear into his head and brooding for the rest of the night.

Jake huffs annoyed but turns around either way and finally closes the distance. He presses y/n's head softly into his chest and kisses her on the top of her head. Reality settles its ugly face deep into his bones. He feels his throat closing and the first tear falling from his eyes on top of y/n head. Bradley props himself up on his elbow and catches some more tears which make their way down Jake's face.

"We love you, Jakey!" Y/n slightly slurs, visibly exhausted from the events of the night. Her head is swimming and pounding but she stays still, buried into Jake's chest. His nightmare clearly shook him to the core whatever it was about it must have been cruel.

Jake tightens his hold on their girlfriend. "He killed you." The blonde aviator mumbles into her soft hair.

Y/n gathers all her strength which is left in her exhausted body. Jake needs to talk about his nightmare, she understands that he is somewhat traumatized. She knows this kind of dreams. They can feel so real that it's difficult to separate them from reality even if you're already awake for some time. The pictures are still coming back and talking about it is the best way to store the cruel pictures into the last corner of the mind.

"We're here, love. Y/n is here, we're back home. And we protect each other. We are not alone." Y/n is relieved that Bradley rises to speak. Her throat burns from Welsh's attempt to strangle her and throwing up earlier made the pain only worse. She feels Jake shudder and releases y/n's body out of his tight embrace to look into her tired face. He cups her still flushed cheeks but looks up to Bradley wo lays propped up on his elbow behind their girlfriend.

"My dream…in my dream he…" Jake has to swallow, he doesn't to say the name of this bastard in their cozy and safe bedroom, anyhow both his partners know who is meant by 'he', "he broke into our house. He came into our bedroom, you both were asleep. But I- I heard him, I tried to jump out of bed, but I couldn't move…" his voice cracks a bit but he continues, "I couldn't protect y/n. I screamed for you, but he didn't hear me. And then he strangled her. Fuck…" Jake looks down into the eyes of their girlfriend, which are slowly overflowing with tears. Her heart is breaking of the blonde aviator. She doesn't want him feeling like this because of her. Jake gets lost in y/n's eyes. They're full of life and emotions, unlike her dead eyes which looked at him in his dream. "You died, right in front of me and I couldn't do anything."

Y/n is shocked how distraught Jake looks at her. Despite her being in pain right now she moves her right hand to grab one of his and slowly bringing his hand to her chest.

"Feel my heart? I'm here. I love you." Y/n wants to say so much more but she is growing weaker every second her sentence nothing more than a whispered slur.

"I love you, too Cupcake. Come on let's catch some sleep." Jake kisses takes her hand and kisses her fingertips and helps her to lay down properly. The blonde pilot tucks her into their shared blanket but y/n is already fast asleep.

"We're okay, Jake. This never going to happen again." Bradley whispers and places a soft kiss on the other man's delicious looking lips, he tastes hints of the salty tears which are already dried. They're going to protect their girl at all costs. Welsh is the one who has to look over his shoulder, their prey.

@djs8891

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi love! Could you please write something about Rowan as a girl dad?

Breathe life into me

Rowan took great pride in being a father. A dream that seemed unreachable for so many decades. To the point where he had told himself that it was impossible. It would never happen and dreaming of it would only make him suffer more. But now more than ever he was so glad that he didn’t kill that hope. That he let in kindle deep within his heart. Even more so Rowan was so proud of being a girl dad. While many males made their life’s goal to grow sons. He couldn’t imagine his life without his little girls. The happy squalls making him long to get back home after a long day.

“Daddy, daddy”, the voice of his youngest Rony filled the fields as he flew back home. “that’s daddy up there”, with her tiny finger pointing up to the sky she ran as fast as she could in hopes of matching her sister. “Dad”, Sloan his oldest waved up at him, laughing as Rowan let out a shrill chwirk. Turning circle after circle over the roof of his house.

He wasn’t one for theatrics, you often told him he was getting too old for that, but he enjoyed the big eyes that watched him as he shifted midair landing on the rooftop, and sliding down the tiles. The happy and amazed shrieks made his heart so warm. With both of his hands outstretched Rowan lands smoothly, wrapping both of the girls in his arms before tossing them up on his shoulder. “Daddy”, Rony chuckled, her tiny palms pressing onto his forehead as he spins them both around. “How are my two beautiful girls doing today?”, Rowan muses letting them slide down his arms before kneeling in front of them. “We helped mommy loads”, Rony mutters, moving to snuggle back into her father’s embrace. “Yeah, we planted flowers and made bread”, Sloan nods along, pushing her white loose curls away from her face. “Kept mommy off her feet?”, Rowan questions, referring to the deal he had with his daughters. “We tried”, his eldest shrugs, “Mommy stubborn like Uncle Lor”, Rony chuckles, clasping a hand over her mouth. Rowan lets a laugh ripple through his chest, “You’re not wrong there, my little cloud”, he cups both of their rosy cheeks before ruffling their hair, “Come on now, let’s find mommy”. Both of the girls quickly slips their hands into his, pulling him towards the house.

His shoulders instantly relaxed once the familiar smell of home fill his body. Rowan had built it all for you. Tending to any and every wish you had. Creating that perfect place for you to nurture. And nurture you did. The girls take off running once inside, leaving Rowan to chase after them. And then here you are humming lightly as you butter toast for pre dinner snack.

“My love”, Rowan muses and it’s enough to make you turn to him. “You’re home early, I was wondering what all the noise was about”, you beam up at him. Rowan reaches for you in a heartbeat. “Hi”, he breathes into your hair, swaying slightly. “Hey”, you lean back to smile at him. “How are you feeling?”, he softly brushes his fingers through your hair. “Officially can’t see my feet”, you chuckle running a hand over the swell of your stomach.

“Hey, little bug”, Rowan lets his hand run over your bump as well, “Been good to mummy?”, his question is met with a strong kick. “Daddy, try the bread”, Rony pulls at his tunic practically climbing his leg. “Give daddy a chance to wash his hands”, you cut in, “Get his plate ready, girls, he had a long day”, and they don’t need to be told twice as they rush to push the chairs together so they can make his plate. “I love you”, Rowan leans in nuzzling his nose against yours, “You breathed life into me”. You smile up at him, before leaning in as much as your round stomach lets you to kiss him.

[blueraineshadows]

Part Eleven

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

MC turns to Sebastian in search of answers, but can she trust him? He might ask the same of her. Their relationship turns a full circle as they try to figure out the path they are on, whilst Leander meets a new face.

13.4 k words. Tags: NSFW / angst / trauma / sexual tension / jealousy / possessiveness / love triangle / death reference / hints about murder and torture

Chapter master list and Ao3

Eleven: Loving You Is A Blood Sport

MC

In the deepest well of her memories lingered hazy flashbacks of hard, uncomfortable beds, cold feet, and the echoing loneliness of being one amongst many in the cramped rooms of the orphanage. Other children would come and go, either by death or taken in by some kind soul. Some would just disappear never to be seen again, but not MC. She remained. A constant in a world where you learned fast, eating what you were given as quickly as possible before it could be taken by another, sleeping with one ear and eye open lest a chancer came to steal your socks in the dead of night. It was an unforgiving upbringing, ruled over by a matron who used a cane to keep the children in line.

Always different, always an outsider, MC kept her silence and observed. There was no point making friends when that child could be gone the next day, and even if she did dare to befriend someone, her unusual gifts would chase them off eventually, the quirks of her magic sometimes appearing when her desperate attempts at control would slip.

As she grew older, boys began to take an interest, and she was grateful for the segregation fences that gave her space to remain hidden from their attention. Her unusual abilities were hard enough to keep a secret without all the extra focus, and so she remained distant, building the barriers that would help protect her in later life when she found herself behind bars.

Discovering that her magic was not a flaw, but in fact, a very vital and powerful part of herself, had felt like a homecoming of sorts when she entered the wizarding world. There had been no need for fences anymore, and she had allowed daylight through the cracks of her barriers, opening herself up enough to let a few people come close. Whilst easing the longing for intimacy that consumed her, it was also painful when you allowed people in. Caring for another opened you up to both the warmth of acceptance and the crushing pain of loss, and sorting through that tangle of emotions was hard. The temptation to immediately seal up the cracks was strong, and hiding would be all too easy, but the glow that came from being close to someone was very powerful and addictive. It surprised her how much she longed for even more of it, to be held and told that everything would be alright. It eased some of the heavy weight she carried when she could lay her head somewhere warm and safe, hear another's heartbeat thudding a comforting rhythm, and feel hands smoothing over her skin, evoking fire and abandon that distracted and sated.  

Once you let the first person in, it became a landslide as others joined the circle, and now she was spinning in bewildered shock as that circle now enlarged to include blood relatives. She had a family in the world. Real people. They had names, faces, lives…and what was even more shocking. She knew who they were.

Did they know who she was?

She suspected they did not, and her heart thudded painfully as she thought of the hours spent in the company of one who was blood, someone she had allowed to become close. All that time they had shared together, and they had been family all along. The need to see his face was overwhelming, and yet, she feared he would reject her, unable to accept that she was a relative. In order to get answers, though, she would need to confront that fear. In order to find her true self, she needed to step out beyond the barriers she still held tightly around herself.

Twilight shadows lengthened as the sky morphed into darkness, her boots stepping lightly across the cobbled street as she made for the door of the Black Rose pub. There was no point in hesitating outside and chewing her lip, worrying about the consequences of entering the establishment this time. Tired of lurking and waiting on the sidelines, MC pushed the door open and crossed the threshold, her hood pushed back to reveal her face. Holding her head high she scanned the room, her face carefully blank as her gaze landed on the small group of familiar Ashwinders seated in a far corner. The bar room was busy, the hum of chattering customers adding to the feeling of the walls pressing inwards, but she fought to ignore the imposing sensation of eyes on her as she crossed the space.

Rosier noticed her first, recognition dawning on his handsome face as she strode towards their table, swallowing down the gentle nervous flutters behind her ribs. He nudged Sebastian with his elbow, garnering his attention away from Luella, who was seated beside him. Ignoring the clench of envy in her stomach, MC remained determined as Sebastian’s eyes lifted towards her, a flash of delight appearing in the chocolate depths before he masked it with a similar cool indifference to her own stony facade. Despite her efforts to remain focused on her task, clearly there was a game to play here in front of everyone. Steeling herself, she kept her chin tilted upwards as she glanced around the table. 

She had turned down Leander’s offer of help earlier today, concerned that he was risking himself enough by digging up buried information for her. Rather than let him get into trouble, she had come here to seek out someone who could easily point her in the right direction without the added risk. Gazing upon Sebastian’s freckled face, she wondered if he knew the truth. Did he know what his uncle had done when she was a baby? Did he know the blood he had bonded with ran strong with a power other than her ancient magic? Could it be his reason for wanting her in the first place, and not because of deeper feelings brought on by their time together?

“We meet again, sweetheart,” Rosier said, that disarming smile of his drawing her attention away from Sebastian. “Are you planning on sticking around a bit longer this time? You seemed in rather a hurry to get away at our previous meeting, and just when I was starting to get to know you.” 

“Good evening, Mr Rosier,” MC said coolly, trying to ignore the way his smile widened at her formality. There was something in his eyes that told her he liked a challenge as he lazily surveyed her. “I'm actually here to speak with Mr Sallow, if he wouldn't mind.” 

“He wouldn't mind at all,” Sebastian said, placing down his whiskey. Luella was watching with narrowed eyes, her shoulders tense as Sebastian looked expectant. “What can I do for you?”

“I believe we can help each other,” she said, playing the game. “I hear you have been looking for me, and I find myself in need of some information. Perhaps we could strike up a deal.”

The slow smirk that spread across Sebastian’s face made the flutters behind her ribs twirl downwards, pooling dangerously in her lower stomach. She could feel the heat spreading, making the back of her neck warm up as she forced herself to appear calm and in control. 

“I’m all ears, sweetheart,” he purred, lounging casually back in his seat, a dangerous and knowing glint in his eyes as he repeated words he had spoken to her on a hillside in Scotland mere hours ago. A shiver whispered down her spine, the memory of his arms holding her still fresh, the soft tendrils of flame at the feel of his mouth on her throat invoking anything but calm control over her senses.

Bastard.

Clenching her hands into fists as she maintained her tenuous grip on her control, MC glanced from Rosier to Luella and let her lips twist into a slight smirk. “A private word, if you would be so kind.” 

Rosier threw a grin Sebastian’s way. “Look lively, Sallow,” he said, nudging him again. “Don't keep the lady waiting.” 

Sebastian threw Rosier a warning look before standing, Luella reaching out to place a rather possessive hand on his forearm. MC felt herself stiffen at the touch, and noticed Sebastian did the same, although he looked down at Luella with surprising patience. 

“A private word?” Luella asked, one eyebrow arching upwards in a perfect curve. “Is that wise?” 

Sebastian shrugged, subtly slipping his arm free of her touch. “I'm sure I can handle it.”

Luella’s cheeks darkened with a flush, her eyes flashing as she glared at MC. It was all too clear that MC had stepped into this witch’s territory and was luring Sebastian away, Luella’s envy creeping over her face as Sebastian stepped out from the table to join MC. It was interesting to note that Sebastian barely gave Luella a second glance, turning to Rosier rather than the beautiful witch as he took his leave from their group.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” he nodded, and then turned his gaze onto MC. While his face portrayed his typical casual confidence, there was a hint of something darker and far more dangerous in the depths of his eyes. “I’m ready when you are.”

MC chanced one more glance towards Luella, the fury in the depths of her blue eyes hinting that Rookwood was likely to hear about this. Good. MC dared to smirk, her lips curving upwards in a cold, but pleased expression as she stepped aside to let Sebastian lead.

Feeling Luella’s gaze like daggers into her back, MC followed Sebastian through the bar, not failing to notice the broad expanse of his shoulders and the steady way he held himself. Tearing her eyes away from him, she let her gaze wander around the busy bar, but soon enough, she was drawn back to him as he held the door open for her.

“After you,” he said, gesturing towards the street outside. So much weight carried in two little words when you combined them with the way he looked at her, but MC fought against the urge to smile, remembering the possessive way Luella had touched him.

“Such a gent,” she quipped, tilting her chin upwards as she strode past, the chill evening air kissing her cheeks.

“How private does this need to be?” He asked quietly, appearing close to her shoulder. 

She gave him a sideways look, her pulse flickering into a faster beat at his proximity. “Very,” she murmured, the weight of her truth bearing down on her.

He nodded and she felt his hands slip about her waist from behind, her lungs drawing air in sharply as he held her tight against his chest, his breath hot on her neck. “Hold on, sweetheart.” 

As her hands clasped over his, Knockturn Alley swirled out of view. They landed on grass, his hands still holding her about the waist as they steadied their footing, her eyes darting about at their surroundings and realising they were in some kind of park.

“You need to stop doing that,” she said breathlessly, turning her head to look up at him.

“Spoil sport,” he smirked, his touch lingering at her waist. “We are still in London. Crystal Palace Park, to be exact. We should be able to enjoy some privacy here.”

His hand sought hers and he grasped it firmly, leading her across well kept grass towards a tall hedge, the breeze sighing softly through some nearby trees. Looking down at their clasped hands, she couldn’t help but be taken back five years, gallivanting across the Highland landscape with him and beginning to believe she had found her forever. The pinch in her chest was sharp as the shadows loomed over her head, the idea that nothing good would ever find roots in her soul making her eyes sting with lonely tears. What if she couldn't trust Sebastian again? It would cut out the closest thing she'd ever had with anyone.

They rounded the hedge only to be confronted by more of them, the night sky above sprinkled with early stars as Sebastian led her into the foliage tunnel, her head swivelling as she realised what it was.

“We’re in a maze,” she said, her brow furrowing as he continued to lead her deeper.

“That we are,” he said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as he made a turn, and then another.

“Do you even know the way?” 

He turned, stepping backwards as he smiled down at her. Damn him, and his charming smile. “Isn’t not knowing all part of the fun?”

“That all depends on the details,” she said, irritation sparking along her veins. She tugged her hand from his grip making him stumble slightly as they came to a stop. “I haven’t got time for your games, Sebastian. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to talk.”

“Alright,” he said carefully, pushing his fingers through his mop of hair. Shadows cloaked them, and his eyes glittered in the darkness. “What did you want to talk about?”

Where did she start? How to find the words and begin? Now that they were here, her mind was spinning from the last 24 hours. Tracking Sebastian into the tunnels, McKinnon’s death, her conflicting emotions after being reunited with Sebastian, and the revelation of her birth mother. It all spun in circles, suspended in her thoughts and making her chest tighten as she stared at him.

“When you first met me, did you know who I really was?” She asked, her voice trembling slightly, her fingers grazing softly against the scar on her palm. “I told you about growing up in an orphanage, but did you have any idea of how I got there in the first place?”

He stepped closer, and she could make out the confused frown on his brow through the darkness. “How could I possibly know that? The first time I saw you was in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. I had no idea who you were then.”

She nodded, dipping her gaze as she took a steadying breath. “What about after you took me to meet your family? What did they say about me?”

“MC, what is this?” He asked, stepping even closer, his hands reaching to take hold of her elbows, drawing her into his space. She met his gaze and saw the worry there, the confusion. “Where is this going?”

“Tell me the truth,” she whispered, her lower lip wobbling as she rested her closed fists against the expanse of his chest, his hands cupping her elbows. She wanted to believe in him so much it made her ache deep inside. “Do you know who my mother is?”

He stared at her, his eyes shifting as he studied her carefully, and his grip on her tightened. “I have no idea who your mother is, MC. I promise,” he said, shaking his head. “But I get the impression you do. What happened? What makes you think I would know? Tell me.”

“I…,” she faltered, her throat closing as she teetered on the edge of her trust. She wanted to believe him, but Solomon’s name on that paperwork was as clear as day. The link of her childhood to the Sallow name was shocking. Her feet had taken her straight back to the man who had placed her into care, meeting Sebastian had put her right in front of Solomon without even realising his connection to her. Doubt tugged at her, and as much as she could feel the longing to be held by Sebastian, she stepped back, removing her arms from his grasp. The walls around her heart closed in, shutting down the gaping maw in her chest that screamed to be made whole.

“You can trust me, MC,” he said desperately, reaching forward as though to touch her, but he hesitated. “Whatever this is, whatever you need, I’m here. I promise. No matter what.”

“Leander found my birth records,” she began, her hands unfurling and clenching tightly, over and over. “He gave them to me earlier today. I know who my mother is.”

Her chest tightened, and the very air she breathed felt too thin and full of his scent, distracting her. Taking another step back from him, she considered running and not telling him anymore. Knowledge was power, after all, and how much did she want to give him?

“Who is she?” He asked, his voice strained. “Why would you think I know her? You’re worrying me, MC.”

She could hear it in his voice, see it in the way he was looking at her. In all honesty, it worried her, too. The weight that came with her birth name hung over her head, another shadow to carry along with all the others. Sebastian shared so many of her secrets already, and she knew most of his up until the point they had been forced apart. Maybe it wasn’t so wrong to share more. After all, he was the first one she had come to after declining Leander’s help. She was beginning to wonder if everything would always come back to Sebastian in the end. It was almost as though fate had cast her onto his path, a pre-written clause that she would enter the house of Slytherin and find exactly who she needed to all those years ago. Sebastian and his best friend. Their trio of darkness sealed by those who came before.

Like his uncle. Like her mother. 

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, shaking her head, still maintaining a distance. “I will be fine. I just need to find... I need…”

“Anything, MC,” he promised. “I’ll do anything.”

Staring into those molten chocolate eyes, it was so easy to believe that he would. Every cell in her body seemed to tremble with the need to feel him, the desire to press so close until their bodies blended as one seemed to almost obliterate everything else, but she couldn’t let herself get distracted in such a way. Closing her eyes, she took a steadying breath, her fingers stroking against the scar on her palm.

Not two hours ago she had been held by Leander, her face buried against the warmth of his chest, his graceful fingers soothing against her hair and back. He never asked anything of her, merely gave all that he could to ensure that she was okay. That kind of safety was foreign and felt completely undeserved, and she felt guilt tear and slide through her stomach. Her fondness for the tall Auror had grown, and she did not want to hurt him. The confusion of her feelings choked up the truth that she had come here to speak. 

Looking at Sebastian in the dark of the maze, feeling the pull that he had on her body, the magnetism that seemed to keep them locked in each other's orbit, she battled with the guilt of giving herself to another man. A man who was the light to Sebastian’s shadow. 

“Why do I always end up alone with you in the dark, Sebastian?”

The pain she tried so hard to bury echoed through the whisper of her voice. Would she regret coming back to him? Would he take what he needed and then leave her to face the dark alone?

“I'll always find you in the dark, MC,” he promised. “And you will always find me there waiting for you. It's just what we do, you and I.”

“What if that isn't enough?” 

“What more do you want?” He frowned, capturing her hand in his and holding it, his thumb grazing against her skin in a caress she could feel all the way to her bones. His gaze was intense, a muscle working in his jaw as he stepped closer. “Whatever it is you want to tell me, it won't change how I feel about you. Nothing will. I will always choose you above all others.”

Staring back at him, she wondered if he was referring to Luella, the question burning her tongue. If she asked him outright, she might not like the answers he would give. His words seeped through her thoughts, the years of solitude still making her cling to her barriers, her trust wobbling back and forth regarding him. They could love each other as deeply, and for as long as there was time on earth, but to make it work she had to choose this. She had to fight for it. Did she want that? How deeply was his family involved in her shadowed past? What secrets hung over them, and would they rip whatever remained of them apart?

Leander was the light to Sebastian’s darkness. She knew she would cast shadows over that light and smother it out eventually, and she couldn’t bear to do it to him. Sebastian had his own darkness, and together they would be reckless and dangerous. Maybe neither of these men were right for her, and the path she must walk could prove to be a lonely one after all. The ache of that possibility swelled behind her ribs, and it was crippling.

Squeezing his hand she took a breath and looked up through the gap in the maze walls to the sky above. So many questions, so many secrets and truths, and they all clogged up in her throat. She couldn't tell him. She wasn't ready. The fragility she shielded from him was held back by a cracking wall, and she needed a stronger foundation before she began to build back what they had. 

If there was anything left to build with, of course. She wasn't the only one who had taken comfort in the arms of another. Bringing her gaze back to him, she felt herself hardening as she thought of who they had left behind at the pub.

“I want to trust you, but I'm not sure I can,” she said, shaking her head. “Luella. How long has it been going on?”

She tried to pull her hand free, but this time he didn’t let her go, his grip tightening into a vice grip. Any softness she had been feeling evaporated, and a slithering, dark part of her began to creep out to play.

“I don’t know what it is you think you know, but Luella and I are not courting,” he said firmly. “She is a gang member that I must appear loyal to, that is all.”

MC felt every muscle tighten with envy, her words bitter sounding as they slid from her tongue. She was done being trodden on by anyone. “But you have fucked her, haven’t you?” 

Unable to forget the expression on his face when she had thrown Luella’s name at him on that hillside in Scotland, she let her envy get the better of her, watching him carefully in the dark of the maze as she awaited his answer. He looked down at the ground, her stomach sinking as he gripped her hand, stopping her from being able to run or Apparate without him. He nodded, and she felt her stomach cave with a sickening lurch.

“I did,” he confessed, lifting those big, brown eyes her way again. “MC, I’m sorry…”

“Let me go,” she demanded, her voice cracking. Eyes burning, she yanked her hand, but he stubbornly refused to release her, taking hold of her other arm to keep her trapped in his space. She twisted in his grip, but he held firm. She glared at him, forcing the softness from her eyes. “My memories of you kept me sane in that place, and you were out here bedding the daughter of my enemy…”

Her words choked out of her throat at the end, her chest squeezing as she bent over, gasping for breath. Her head swam with the thought of them together, his confession compounding her fears and turning them into a reality. Daring to trust him again made her a fool. Doubt clouding her thoughts, she pulled against his firm grip as he tried to stutter out an excuse.

“I don’t want to hear your apologies, Sebastian!” She snapped, her body going rigid as rage swept through her. The burn in her eyes manifested tears that began to scald her cheeks, but the rage woke the ancient magic that always lurked beneath the surface, flickering dangerously in the depths of her eyes. “And to think I felt guilty about where I lay my head at night. Well, no more.”

The remorseful expression on his face morphed swiftly into one of stony suspicion, his mouth forming a tight line as he spoke with a cold fury. “Please, don’t tell me you’re sleeping in Prewett’s bed.”

The telling blistering crackle of a bond being tested began to seeth in her blood, but she laughed, the need to bite back so strong she could almost taste it. A heady and reckless daring flooded through her with the scalding burn. She could see the rage building in his eyes, feel the tense way his body was responding to her taunt. The need to lash out and sting him the way he had ripped through her was very real, her own guilt conveniently forgotten as she let her temper get the better of her. 

“Oh, trust me, there hasn’t been much sleeping going on if you catch my drift,” she chuckled darkly. “You're not the only one who knows how to play, Sebastian, and Leander proved a most willing and satisfying accomplice.” 

“I will end him,” he hissed, his face dark and tight with fury as he gripped her harder.

Something hot and fierce bloomed behind her ribs, her cheeks flushing as she pushed back against Sebastian, her own anger ablaze in the depths of her eyes.

“You dare do anything to hurt Leander, and you will never see me again,” she warned, her words deathly cold despite the burn of her temper. Surprised at the wave of protectiveness that had flooded through her, she saw the dismay dawn on Sebastian’s face, her guilt seeping back to curl around her anger.

“You…you would do that,” he said, his brows drawing together. “You would abandon me for him?”

“You don’t understand what he did for me,” she said, her voice hushed. “What he still does…”

“He touches you,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes scanning her body as he tried to process her words. “You let him touch you.”

“And you let Luella touch you,” she said, some of the hardness in her voice cracking to reveal a slither of her pain. “What does that say about us?”

His hand gripped her jaw, tilting her face up to his as he fought against the fury flaring in his eyes. “She is nothing to me. Nothing!” He hissed, those dark eyes burning into hers. “What about him? You feel something for him, don’t you? I saw the way you looked at him in those tunnels. You were muttering his name in your sleep, and now you dare to threaten me to protect him. Look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing for him. Go on!”

Coming here for his help had turned into this. Instead of keeping a grip on her control, she was lashing out and trying to hurt him. Maybe she was trying to push him away deliberately. It sounded like something stupid she would do, slam those barriers up and kick down anyone who dared to try and breach them. Just as she had warned Leander not to get too attached to her, she was striking out at Sebastian, too.

She felt heat burn in her cheeks upon discovering she spoke Leander’s name in her sleep, that he had noticed the softness she harboured for the Auror in her eyes. Despite her fury that Sebastian had taken Luella to bed, she felt guilt curl tightly in her stomach, and she let her gaze dip away from the intensity of his eyes. Her blood crackled and burned at the thought of denying her feelings, the very notion of trying to lie to Sebastian searing her heart through a promise given.

“You can’t, can you?” His voice dripped with disbelief. He let her go, his hand sliding from her jaw as he stepped back. “You have feelings for him.”

She shook her head, but the truth couldn’t be denied. “I can’t explain it…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Sebastian roared, the tendons in his neck standing rigid as he clenched his fists. The rage on his face was absolute. “Leander Prewett will regret the day he dared lay a finger on what belongs to me!”

Sebastian

The burning in his blood was spreading like wildfire, out of control and consuming him faster than his rage, and he could physically feel the tremble all the way to his fingertips. The rage he could understand, his mind screamed with the knowledge that MC felt something for that damned Gryffindor.

His girl, his precious, precious girl. 

He blinked slowly, gritting his teeth against the crackling fire that lit his blood and scorched his heart, the sensation new and shocking. Pressing a hand to his chest, he wondered if this was heartbreak, could this be how he would die. His whole body erupting into nothing but ashes and fires of fury because she was slipping out from his reach.

The first time he had kissed those lips, the first time she had touched her fingers to his skin in a way that meant more than friendship, the breath-stealing whirlwind of falling for her…it all seemed to flash behind his eyes, like those stories you heard about facing your death. His thoughts flickered and danced like a picture book of memories, all of her, and a fog darker than death himself was striving to steal them away. He could only shake his head in denial of the fact, his own misdemeanour forgotten as he stared at her beautiful face. A face that Prewett had now touched, kissed, that prick had seen her laying against his pillow when she should only be with him.

That coiling, dark snake of his evil began to slither around his insides, seductive and alluring. The darkness lingered at his shoulder, whispering its taunts and urging him to answer. He could see the tall, redheaded figure of Prewett in his mind. The smart suit and fine robe, the healthy glow of his skin, the unwavering loyalty and truth of his eyes. A proper gentleman and an Auror, fucking perfect Prewett, always showing up and spoiling the fun. 

Why did it have to be Prewett that got her out of Azkaban first? How was it fair that he got to play the fucking hero when Sebastian had been waiting years to see her face?

He would start slowly, cracking the bones in his legs so he couldn’t run, snapping his wand so he couldn’t cast. Ropes to bind his hands, a gag to silence him, but his eyes he would leave free. He wanted to see the pain in that bastard’s eyes as he was punished. He wanted Prewett to see the face of the one he owed, and his debt of pain was a colossal one.

The thought of Prewett’s hands on her skin, his lips tasting what Sebastian hungered for…

Her laughter snapped his train of thought and he stared at her, the bitterness in that chuckle threw ice over the burn. How could this possibly be funny?

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She said, nodding. “I know what you’re doing, Seb. You want to destroy Leander, don’t you? Perhaps you have failed to realise that by hurting him, you will also hurt me, and you can’t do that. You can’t betray me like that, because you made a promise. Trapped by your own pact, Sebastian.”

She held up her left palm, waving it in his face, her blood scar vivid against her pale flesh. “It makes your blood boil, doesn’t it? Does your heart feel like it’s going to burst in your chest?”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, love?” He said, his voice low and dangerous as he spoke through gritted teeth.

“You do have a habit of giving me reasons to be mad,” she huffed. “You, and that bitch of a sister of yours. I won’t deny that I have considered my revenge, no matter who she is.”

She winced, sucking in a breath and pressing a hand to her own chest. Interesting…

Looking at his own scar on his palm, he pondered the burn, the wicked pulse of his heart as he seethed. The blood magic was strong, their connection absolute. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the success of it. He tilted his head, his body slipping into that sleek and alert mode he so enjoyed when faced with a challenge. Blood thrumming with anger and a promise made, he realised his wand was already in his grip. He couldn’t recall slipping it from his holster. So intent was he on his rage, his blinkers over her betrayal cancelling out everything else, he even allowed the slur against his twin.

“Hurting Prewett might just be worth the pain,” he said, the coiling darkness so seductive and alluring. Dare he add another dark mark on his arm, another soul for his little collection. He licked his lips as he fought back the idea of the auror’s hands at her waist, her thigh, her pretty little neck. He would snap every bone in Prewett’s hand for daring to touch her.

He watched her eyes flare, her soft lips parting slightly as she stared. “You would die,” she rasped.

“Would you even care?” He asked, his feet shifting position, his fingers flexing around his wand handle. His eyes narrowed, envious and raw. “Does he please you, MC? Does he give you what you need?”

Her throat worked as she counter stepped, her own wand in her hand now, but it was aimed towards the ground and not him. His lips almost twitched into a smirk of satisfaction, the hours spent sparring with her when they were young still so ingrained into her body that she moved without thinking. Their steps like a dance, he raised his wand arm, and she mirrored his move.

“Do you really want to know the details, Sebastian?”

The hedges rose up in the dark around them, shielding them from the London park. The night sky stretched above them, the smog thin this evening, allowing the stars to peek down upon their heads with the gentle glow of a half moon. The air was chilled, but his blood was enough to keep him warm as he faced MC down on the maze path. His hand shook with the effort of holding his wand pointed in her direction, his veins pulsing and burning as a sweat began to break out across his forehead. He didn’t want to know the details, and yet his head was taking him there, imagining her moaning Prewett’s name while her cheeks flushed pink with her pleasure. It was a torment, a nightmare sent to rip his rational mind into tatters.

The darkness offered to swallow his pain, a tempting cloak as he stared at her, shaking as he fought the rage that boiled in his chest. How easy it would be to let the dark curl around it all, envelope him completely and leave him a shadow of himself. Cast off the pain and rage, and succumb to the icy depths of the bleak and empty landscape of cold terror. He could become a weapon, unfeeling and uncaring, carving through this life intent on nothing but destruction. What point was there to anything without her?

The loneliness of it all yawned like a maw before his feet, just an easy reach to cast himself into the dark and leave behind everything else. Maybe it would be easier. He was just so tired of fighting, so tired of cradling the pain. Succumb and be done with it.

Other memories began to seep through the shadow, dragging him back away from the drop, flickers of candlelight and her soft smile. Her fingers swiping the tears from his cheeks as he sobbed in the cold of the Undercroft, the tremble of their bodies after they had given themselves to each other for the first time, the familiar and safe glances over their textbooks in the library… her laughter as he chased her across the beach near Feldcroft under a summer sun.

The roaring throb of his pulse in his ears mingled with the rapid fire of his heaving lungs. His feet were backing up, the scratch of the hedge branches caught against his jacket and hair as he all but sagged against the foliage. Hand shaking so hard, he had to grip his wand tightly to avoid dropping it, he felt as well as heard the harsh sob that left his mouth.

“You can’t love him,” he croaked, shaking his head.

“You can’t control everything, Sebastian,” she said, lowering her wand. “We are already bound by blood magic, you cannot seek to control how I feel towards others. I am not an object to master. I have a mind of my own.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to deny what lay hidden in her words. She did love Prewett. He was losing her. He could feel her slipping through his fingers, and she was right. He couldn’t control it. The fate of continuous failure seemed to truly be embedded into his soul, and this, this would be his ultimate loss. His very reason for everything was scooped up and carried away in the arms of a white knight in Auror robes.

The old crone in the prison cell had choked on her own blood and spit, cackling at the notion of him losing her to another, the pain he had inflicted on her neither easing his agony or changing the fact. How many times would he lash out and try to smash something in his attempts to fix what was broken?

It was him. He was the broken one.

Aiming with wild abandon, he cast Confringo, the blast of fire erupting from his wand and scorching the hedge to the side of him as he cried out in a sound that was more agony than rage. The blaze caught, devouring the branches and leaves in a crackle of flame that seared his eyes against the darkness of the maze. The heat of it against his cheeks had him scrambling backwards, tipping sideways onto the dirt path.

“Sebastian!”

The fire began to spread, the pungent scent of scorched fir trees filling his nose as he leapt to his feet. He felt a hand grip his arm, pulling him backwards away from the chaos of his reckless fury, just as a blast of cool blue shot past him, banking the flames back with the power of her magic.

“You’re an idiot, Sebastian,” she muttered near his ear. “Get us the fuck out of here.”

Turning to meet her gaze, his eyes stinging from the fire and tears, the streaks of which coursed through the ash on his cheeks, he almost choked on his breath. “Us?”

Her hand gripped his arm tighter as she nodded. Just like that, a flicker, a glow like the light of gods ignited in his chest. Us. She wasn’t going to leave here without him. Clamping his hand firmly over hers where she held him, he focused his thoughts and felt the pull of Apparation take them away from the flames.

…*...

The opposite of heat and flame was cold and water. The expanse and depth of the limitless ocean. They hit the sand with a thump, their booted feet sliding on the softness and making them tumble over. He immediately braced himself, trying to avoid crushing her as they rolled on the sand, but he didn’t let her go. Her grunt of pain made him fight her flailing arms, pinning her to the beach as the cool freshness of salty air filled his lungs and the roar of the waves reached his ears.

She glared up at him, resisting his grip. “Get off,” she snapped.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes scanned over her, ignoring her command.

Her mouth tightened. “Only where it counts.”

It was like a knife of ice slicing through him, his eyes turning bleak as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never want to hurt you.”

She blinked rapidly, turning her head to the side as she glanced around them, taking in the wild and abandoned landscape that was the Scottish coastline. Her brow furrowed slightly. “Is this…this is Feldcroft.”

He sighed, head dipping as he fought down the anxiety that only this place could pull out of him. Of all the places in the world, he had brought her home, if that’s what he could still call this place.

“Why here?”

He met her gaze in the moonlight, the ebb and flow of the waves, the only sound in the vicinity. “I feel like we need to go back to the start,” he said, his voice tight and pained. “This place doesn’t just hold dark memories. It also gives me some of the best memories I own. Our memories. We can make amends, MC. Despite everything. I am yours in the end, so we need to find that path we once walked. Together.”

The silence stretched as he tried to calm the burning anger, steadying his breathing as he prepared to fight for her rather than against.

“Why her?” Lips trembling, MC sank back into the sand, her hair pooled around her head like a dark halo. “Why did you do it?”

Wincing at the question, he pushed up to his knees, one each side of her hips. He released her arms and put his hands to his face, scrubbing at his cheeks with his palms as he tried to find an answer for her. Luring Luella into his bed had been a means to an end, a devious way to keep her sweet and gain access to what he wanted. So very Slytherin of him, but at what expense? 

Looking down at MC he realised just how much he stood to lose for his selfishness and it twisted his heart painfully. All those nights he had tried to find sleep alone, clutching the amulet in his hands and desperately clinging to the memory of her face. Luella had eased that ache, she had made him forget, even if it had only been for a brief time.

“I was lonely,” he sighed, turning to look out at the heaving mass of the ocean, dark and restless and stretching out towards nothing. “All I cared about was getting my revenge, finding a way to stop Anne’s curse, and perhaps seek out some way of getting you out. The nights were the worst. I missed you so much it was like a physical ache. Luella was there. She was a key to getting in closer to Rookwood’s nest, and I…I was weak.”

The sting of tears returned and he wiped his sleeve across his eyes, shaking his head at the pathetic sound of his words.

“I want to fix it,” he said, his voice beginning to shake as he looked back down at her. She was utterly still, her eyes locked on him as she listened. “I want to be forgiven, but I know that’s not something I can force or control. But, I promise you, I only want you. You are all I have ever wanted. When I arrived at your cell door and you were gone, I felt like you had been ripped away from me like that night when Harrington came for you. I can’t do that…I can’t lose you again. I will do anything to put this right.”

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed, her eyes closing as she brought her hands together as if in prayer. She held them against her mouth, her breathing shaky. “You can’t look at me like that, Sebastian, not with those big, bloody, brown eyes of yours.”

“That depends. Is it working?”

She sighed harshly and frowned, covering her face with her hands. He was pushing his luck and he knew it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, that flicker of hope in his chest striving to remain alight.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, her gaze still had the power to rob him of breath, his lungs tightening as she sat up, her face tilting towards his.

“I’m sorry, too,” she said softly, her fingers reaching up to brush back the wild tumble of his hair. Such a gentle touch, yet it made him shiver, goosebumps spreading along his arms.

It felt like a tightrope that they were balanced on, alone here on the beach with only themselves to contend with. Laid bare, vulnerable. He wondered what she was sorry for, perhaps laying in Prewett’s bed or for loving him. Sebastian felt cold fear seep through his bones as the possibility emerged that she could be sorry about having to leave him, despite his plea to try and fix this mess. 

Unable to stop himself, his hands cupped her face, his fingertips seeking out the delicate bones of cheek and jaw. “I love you,” he whispered, the words a ghostly plea in the dark.

Her hand slid deeper into his hair, pulling him down towards her, and then her mouth collided with his, making him breath in sharply through his nose as her softness enveloped him. Grunting at the urgent pull of his hair, his arms encircled her immediately, crushing her against his chest as he kissed her back with a fierceness that made his blood hotter than any urge to betray his bond. 

The taste of her obliterated all else as he took advantage of her parted lips, kissing her so deeply as though starved, and maybe he was. The scales of rage and passion swung wildly, one flame consuming the other until it flared with white heat. His hands roamed down her back, seeking the curve of waist and hip, relearning the shape of her under his palms. That ache that lived in his chest sharpened, chasing back the shadows and dragging him screaming into the light of the moon, into the light only she could give him. It felt like belonging, so perfect, so right. 

When she pulled back from him, he moaned in protest, urging her closer as they both breathed harshly. She whispered his name, her hands still on him as she studied his face with heavily lidded eyes. He still had a hold on her. It was in her flushed cheeks and blown out gaze, the seeking caress of her hand through his hair.

“This is so confusing,” she said, her brows drawing together as if pained. “I don’t know what to do.”

His fingers ghosted against her cheek, his thumb lovingly stroking the damp fullness of her lower lip. “Stay,” he begged. “Stay till the morning.”

“I can’t,” she breathed, closing her eyes, leaning in to his touch. 

He pressed gentle kisses around the edge of her mouth, watching her through his lashes as she shivered, her lips parting with ragged breaths. He sucked gently on her lower lip, trailing his tongue with aching slowness, watching her reactions all the while, stroking her back with long, easing caresses.

“Stay with me,” he repeated, his words breathed into her mouth before he claimed another long kiss. He could feel her melting, sense the pull of longing that might just keep her here with him. So strong was his desire to keep her right here, he felt all his willpower flow out of him, resorting to begging to keep that warmth in his arms. “I just want you close, that’s all. I need to feel you there. I have longed for this…please.”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding as he pressed his forehead to hers. Elation swelled in his chest as he held her close, his eyes closing in utter relief. “I’ll stay with you.”

MC

Standing side by side, hands clasped, MC and Sebastian stared at the headstone, the weeds of the garden beginning to stake their claim over Solomon’s resting place. It felt surreal to stand here before it after everything that had passed, reading the name of the man who sent her behind bars with his death and Anne’s cunning, a man who had signed her over to a children’s home when she had been a toddler. Seeing Solomon’s grave was a reminder of why she had sought Sebastian out in the first place and her anxiety swelled.

“I’ve not been back here in years,” Sebastian said tightly, his thumb tracing circles against her hand. “It’s just too hard.”

“Why now?” She turned her head to look at him, watching the way the breeze tugged at his mop of hair, locks of it tumbling forward over his forehead.

He squeezed her hand. “You,” he said, turning dark eyes her way, eyes that were always her undoing. “I can do it with you beside me.”

Heart twisting, she couldn’t deny the doubt that lingered as they entered the cottage that had been Sebastian’s home. The blend of emotions she carried left her feeling drained and exhausted, her limbs heavy as they removed the dust sheets from the furniture and lit the fire. A search of the cupboards turned up a bottle of spiced rum and some old potions that looked past their prime. Dusting of the bottle of rum, Sebastian opened it and took a swig, wincing and coughing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He held the bottle out to her. “Here, it’s strong and will take the edge off.” 

The air was loaded with tension, her doubt making her eye the door and consider leaving. There was a Floo in the hamlet. She could go back to London and Leander. Swallowing the rum down, she winced at the burn, remembering the feel of Sebastian’s kiss, his hands on her body. The craving had overcome all else, her resolve weakening under that irresistible pull that only he had. Despite the fury and the envy, she had pressed her mouth to his as though staking her claim. 

It was all too easy to succumb to her desire for him, with that she had always been weak, but the matter of trust was another beast entirely. As much as she longed to believe in him again, she held back behind her barriers and kept her heart in a jar of glass with the lid tightened. She may have agreed to stay with him until the morning, but this was by no means fixed.

With no food, they sipped from the rum bottle and made up the bed. Her eyes meeting with him as memories flooded her thoughts, summer nights spent entangled with each other, naked and lost in their own little world. It made her chest hurt to remember how she had been torn from him, the agony of that night returning as he put out the lamp and removed his jacket. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come here,” she said, hesitating about removing her own clothing. Her throat felt thick, restricted, and she tucked her hair behind her ears as she fought against the anxiety.

His hands smoothed down her arms, his eyes dark and soft as he looked at her. “Believe me, I can’t believe I’m here either, but as I said on the beach, I want to remember the good things we found here. I want you to remember what it felt like for us here before…”

She closed her eyes, fighting back the shadows of the past. She felt his lips on her nose, pressing soft kisses on her cheek before holding her close. His scent filled her up, the thick press of his arms enveloping her in a cocoon of warmth that she couldn’t help but lean into. 

Guilt twisted her stomach and she tensed, Leander on her mind, easing out of his embrace as she dipped her gaze towards the bed. “We should try and get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but I’m shattered.”

Removing her boots and jacket, MC kept her clothes on as she lay down on the bed, Sebastian removing everything but his shirt and undershorts, opening his collar before laying beside her. Turning to face her, he gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her head before smiling softly.

“Finally,” he murmured. 

The reflection of the crackling fire danced in his eyes, his unruly hair dark against the white pillow. The sheets were a bit musty from being in storage, but the intoxicating scent that was Sebastian held her attention more than anything else. 

“Won’t you be missed?” She asked, trying not to think about the press of his thick thighs against hers. 

“No,” he said, stroking her hair. “Rosier will cover me, and besides, this is where I want to be. I don’t care what they say.” 

“And Luella? She clearly didn’t want you to leave with me.”

He shook his head, his fingers curling through her hair. “Then she is going to be disappointed. I made no promises to her, and I have no desire to be with her. She needs to accept that.”

Lowering her gaze, MC bit her lip, knowing that in London, Leander would be likely thinking of her. He wouldn't want her to be here with Sebastian either. Lying here beside him, letting him hold her, it made the guilt tear through her. How tangled their paths had become, swiftly moving streams that linked and flowed around each other, and it was hard to choose the right course. MC felt caught in the tide, her arms seemingly reaching out to grasp at something to keep her steady, but which bough would be the best choice? 

As Sebastian sought her lips, kissing her softly, she felt her barriers weakening, and she couldn’t let that happen. She knew how dangerously slippery this slope could be, her body so in tune with his that it was already calling for him. Bringing her hand up between them, she pressed her fingertips to his mouth to halt him, their eyes so close she could almost feel the burn of his gaze. 

“I’m here, and I will stay, but this doesn’t mean that everything is fixed,” she said softly, focusing on the steady intake of her breaths. “It will take time, Sebastian. I hope you understand that.”

“Is this because of Prewett?”

She winced slightly, his grip tightening subtly in her hair. “No. This is about learning to trust you again.”

“Can I trust you?” He asked, his eyes dark and brooding. “You are here with me now, but how do I know that you won’t crawl back into his bed once you leave here?”

She met his gaze, the pointed question slamming into her like a rock, because the thought of making a clean cut from Leander actually made her pause and think. The slow patching up of her wounded soul had been rooted in the gentle affection Leander had bestowed upon her, and to rip away from that would likely tear at the fragile healing she was still going through.

“I guess we both need to take a chance if we are ever going to work,” she said carefully. “Like I said, this is going to take some time.”

“That wasn’t a no,” he said, his mouth tightening. 

Swallowing down her apprehension, she leaned to press a kiss to his cheek, unable to summon the will to fight this out right now. “Goodnight, Sebastian.” 

….*….

It wasn’t quite dawn, the fire long since burned low, and a chill had settled over the cottage. Sitting empty for so long, the damp had encroached, and the house no longer held any of that cosy charm it once had. Sebastian was asleep, his lashes dark and thick against his freckled cheekbones, his hair a riot of tumbled locks. It needed cutting, and there was enough growth on his jaw to almost be a beard. He was a man now, no longer the damaged boy she had first fallen for.

Taking a moment in the dead of night to study him while he slept felt like a luxury after the years spent yearning for him in the thick dark of Azkaban. She still felt like a pinch on her arm would wake her up, and all of this would turn out to be a fever dream, and she would still be in that cell, cold and alone.

Tears stained her cheeks, her eyes tight and aching from the silent crying she had been unable to stop as she lay staring up at the thatched worked ceiling. Sitting up with her arms wrapped around her knees, MC tried to process through the tangled mess of her feelings. It was impossible, none of it made sense, and it made her chest ache to think of losing either of these men who had snuck into her heart. For her own selfishness, she knew to stand without them would take a summoning of immense courage, and she feared she had lost some of that whilst drowning in the dark sorrow of Azkaban.

How to be whole again? 

Slipping quietly from the bed, she took out the secret message parchment and wrote to Leander, hoping he hadn’t lain awake all night waiting for her to come back. The tether of their bond was stronger than she would ever likely admit to anyone, and she hated the thought that she would be worrying him. Tapping her wand to her message, she watched the ink fade to nothing before she returned to the bed, taking a steadying breath before gently climbing back onto it.

Perhaps finding her mother would shine a light on things. Taking a look at her past, unravelling some truths and hoping they showed some clues for her future. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she looked down at Sebastian, her hand drifting to gently stroke back a lock of hair from his forehead. He was so very beautiful. Beautiful and fractured, stumbling around in the dark like she was. 

Sliding down onto the mattress beside him, she dipped her hand beneath the blanket and found his, clasping it gently. He shifted in his sleep, eyelids fluttering, but he didn’t fully wake. Snuggling closer, MC closed her eyes as she leant her head against his chest to feel his heartbeat, her lips almost curving into a sad smile as his arm circled around her and pulled her closer. Lips pressed against her hair, his fingers squeezing her hand as though in reassurance. For her, or for himself, she wasn’t sure. 

Leander

The sun’s morning rays had crept across towards the bed, the glow of the golden haze that came from autumn filtered through the smog of London’s bustle and warmed the bed through the glass window. Leander had blinked his tired eyes and tried not to feel the vacant spot beside him in the bed. Waking up alone felt so hollow now. It was cold and quiet, the bed felt so big and empty without her warmth there beside him.

Dressed and drinking his morning tea, Leander unfolded his secret parchment and tapped his wand to it, putting down his tea cup as MC’s script appeared. 

I’m alright. Luella Rookwood clearly doesn’t like me, and I hope this doesn’t pose a problem. I am in Scotland, but I will be back in London soon. I will be in touch once I have faced Rookwood.

Stay safe, Lee, please. Sebastian knows. I’m sorry.

MC xx

Sebastian knows.

She was with him. There wasn’t even a glimmer of smug satisfaction to be found knowing that Sebastian was aware that he took MC to bed. If anything, it merely highlighted the point that she was in deep with the Slytherin, deeper than she probably even realised. He could imagine the way that conversation had gone down, but the lack of her return proved that in choice, she had stayed with Sallow. Clearly, those bridges were still fit for mending.

The office was busy, Aurors and researchers alike working to file reports on some raids that had taken place over night. Leander arrived at his desk and paused, staring in surprise at the blonde girl unpacking a box of personal items onto Odessa’s desk. Her sleek hair was twisted up into a neat knot, exposing the slender column of her neck, skin like porcelain, her movements suggesting grace and confidence as she placed a framed photograph before adjusting its position slightly.

On turning her attention back to her box, she glanced up at him, pausing as a smile spread across her face. Leander could only stand and stare, her smile lighting up her eyes and making them sparkle. “Oh, hello!” She said, brightly, her eyes shifting towards his desk as she stepped closer. “Tall, red hair, and impeccably dressed. You must be Auror Prewett.”

Apparently, he could neither confirm nor deny her observation, his lips parting as though to speak but no words actually forming. He felt the slow burn of his cheeks flushing pink, his hand nervously smoothing his tie as he couldn’t help but admire the slope of her nose. It was a very cute and pretty nose, rather fitting for her lovely face. As for her eyes, well, it was very difficult not to stare at them. Framed with dark lashes, they were a soft brown, large and captivating. There was something rather intriguing about them, in a fiesty and fun way.

“I’m Auror Montgomery,” she said, holding out a slender hand towards him. She grinned. “Gosh, that still sounds so formal and strange to say. Seeing as we are to be colleagues, perhaps it might be alright for you to call me Ivy. I certainly wouldn’t mind, but I suppose that all depends on how much of a stickler you are for the rules.”

Leander looked down at her hand, her cheerful words filtering through the haze of shy insecurity he suddenly felt himself under. “Ivy,” he said, slowly, his gaze returning to her face. 

Her smile seemed to lose some of its shine as she studied him, a crease of worry appearing on her brow, her arm going a little slack. “Oh no, have I been too informal already?” She cringed, moving to tuck hair behind her ear despite it being so effortlessly neat already. “I have been known to be a little too forward sometimes. Do forgive me. I was hoping to make a good first impression on my first day, especially to you.”

“Really? Why me?” Genuinely baffled, Leander tilted his head as he considered her more closely. She seemed to be not much younger than himself, bright eyed and keen. A new graduate by the sounds of it, a new Auror in their ranks, and taking the seat of one so recently deceased. 

“Am I not to be mentored by you, Auror Prewett?” She asked, turning to ruffle through her box of possessions and pulling out a rolled parchment. Unrolling it, she scanned the note and held it up. “I was told to report to Auror Harrington, which I have done, and then seek out my mentor for further instruction. Auror Harrington confirmed it would be you. You are Auror Prewett, aren’t you?”

His blush darkening even further, Leander looked to his intray on his desk, spying a similar roll of parchment issued by the Head Auror’s office and he winced. It wasn’t like him to slip up on his paperwork, and he cursed himself for allowing a certain ex-convict to distract him so thoroughly. 

“Forgive me, Auror Montgomery,” he said, finding his manners. He straightened his perfect tie and held out his hand. “Let’s start this again, shall we? I am, indeed, Auror Prewett. It’s lovely to meet you. Welcome to the office.”

Her smile of delight was so very warm, and she slipped her hand into his, shaking firmly despite her slender fingers being completely dwarfed by his grip. “A pleasure,” she said. “I can’t wait to get started.”

….*….

Sweating and out of breath, Leander pressed a towel to his face and glanced into the locker room mirror, noting the darker shadows under his eyes from too many late nights. Whilst he couldn’t regret his reasons, he felt the drain of tiredness pulling at him after that workout. He couldn’t afford to slack off. 

Gathering his things for a shower, he paused as Harrington entered the locker room, robe billowing as he strode towards him.

“There you are, Prewett,” he greeted, nodding once as he came to a pause. “I was hoping to catch you. Have you met our new recruit?”

“Auror Montgomery? Yes, I have. She introduced herself this morning.”

Harrington nodded, pleased. “Excellent. She is a promising young thing, excellent grades, and plenty of ambition. She comes from a good family, too. I think she will be an asset to the team, and that’s why I thought she could shadow you for a while.”

“It would be an honour,” Leander said. “I take it she will be on the Ashwinder case with us?” 

Harrington nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yes, I thought it would be best to place a fresh face in McKinnon’s seat. A new start, so to speak.”

Harrington hesitated, giving Leander a careful look. “A snitch on the team is always bad for morale, and I know you were disappointed, to say the least. I also warned you about the emotional downfalls of this case, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar our little prisoner had become with you. I hope you are being careful, Prewett.”

Leander felt his cheeks warm and he shifted position, clutching his towel and shower things a little tighter. “I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he said, lifting his chin in an attempt at confidence. “I won’t deny it can be difficult, but I understand the job.”

“Just so long as you do,” Harrington warned, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re a fine Auror, Prewett. Don’t let one girl mess that up for you. Taking young Montgomery on field work with you will hopefully remind you about your responsibilities, and being her role model will pay off handsomely in the end.”

Leander wondered how transparent his emotions really were on his face for Harrington to have noticed how much MC had gotten under his skin. So, the new recruit had been placed to distract him, to give him a focus other than their ex convict turned spy. With Montgomery hanging around all the time, there would be less opportunity for him and MC to be alone. Especially if she ceased coming to the flat at night. 

“Message received,” he said carefully, his pulse firing rapidly as he thought of all the rule breaking he had been indulging in of late. “I shall aim to be the best of role models.”

“Good man,” Harrington smiled, clapping his shoulder firmly before turning for the door. “Oh, and some of us are heading to the Cauldron for a few beers this evening. You should come along. Perhaps invite your new partner?”

Harrington’s eyebrows twitched suggestively and he grinned before exiting the changing rooms. Leander watched him leave, sighing as the door closed and pressing a hand to his forehead, fingers pinching slightly in pained anxiety.

Auror Montgomery was a very pretty young lady, of course, but his whole body and soul burned for MC. The suggestion that he could turn his affections towards another seemed impossible. He didn’t think he could handle the trappings of it all, his emotions stretched to the limit already. Perhaps he would merely suggest the drinks meet up to Montgomery as a group activity rather than cordially invite her as his guest. It wouldn’t do to start off on the wrong foot, after all. 

Sebastian

The return to London had been a dismal one, the skies overcast and the breeze carrying a damp drizzle that seemed to seep into one’s bones. Despite the weather, he felt surprisingly rested considering he had slept in that cold cottage last night. Perhaps the word ‘slept’ was the key factor in things, for he had indeed slept rather well. Glancing beside him at MC, smirking at the way her nose was slightly wrinkled against the tickle of the rain, he knew she was the reason for his deeper rest. Despite the lingering tension over Prewett and Luella, she was still with him, and he almost dared to believe that he could glimpse a hint of something promising in her eyes when they lingered on him. Even if she did skip her gaze hastily away when she caught him staring back.

“Does he always keep you waiting like this?” She grumbled, her head glancing up and down the lake’s edge as she rubbed her hands together. She seemed tense, on edge, but had refused to give a solid reason to explain her request for this meeting. He had the distinct feeling that it was a lot more than just missing an old friend that had made her ask for the owl to be sent first thing this morning.

“You know Ominis,” he smirked. “He is a law unto himself.”

She scoffed, eyeing him in disbelief. “That is rich, coming from you.”

His smirk widened and he pulled the collar up a bit higher on his jacket against the damp. “He will be along, don’t worry. He is a busy man you know, and we did send the owl rather short notice.”

She began to pace again, twisting her hands, her eyes dark and wary as she scanned the London park for any sign of their fellow Slytherin. “I just need to see him.”

“You never really said what it was about,” he probed, head tilting curiously.

Her eyes flicked his way and she seemed to curl in on herself, her teeth pulling at her lip. His eyes narrowed, his brow creasing in thought as he watched her. Something was afoot here, something was bothering her, and he had the strange feeling that it was something about these birth records Prewett had given her. Last night in the maze she had started to talk about it before closing up, the conversation turning to subjects much more volatile, their attention focused on the chaos of their relationship.

“It’s complicated,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I need to ask him a favour.”

“Complicated, you say? Hmm, I do like a challenge,” he said, stepping towards her.

She looked up as he approached, her throat working nervously as he gently cupped her face. He’d always loved intense eye contact with her, he sought it as much as possible, yearned for it even. Even now under the miserable clouds of London, her eyes darkened, the depths expanding to let him in and he savoured the sight, his thumb teasing at her chilled cheek.

“Perhaps I can help,” he whispered. Her soft lips parted and he lowered his face, hungry to taste what he craved, but the distinct tap of a cane and the clearing of a throat interrupted their moment.

“Ominis,” she said, turning from him, stepping out from his touch and heading towards their old friend.

Impeccably presented in expensive black robes, his blonde hair swept fashionably back, Ominis stood proudly under a black umbrella. The epitome of an English gentleman. His head bowed slightly, his lips curving with a hint of pleasure as MC stepped up before him, his eyes shifting from side to side as he subtly aimed his cane in order to seek her out.

“We meet again, my dear,” he greeted. “When Sebastian said you wished to meet with me, I couldn’t help but be curious. The last we spoke, you seemed rather set on your goal. I trust things are running smoothly, despite your obvious proximity to the lord of chaos over here.”

Sebastian frowned as he joined them, hands flexing. “You’re not funny.”

Ominis twisted his mouth in amusement. “Oh, I don’t know. If the cap fits, and all that.”

“I’m still set on my goal, Ominis, and I heeded your words,” MC said, her face rather earnest as she stared at him. “However, this meeting is for another matter entirely. You see, I need your help with something. Something…personal.”

Sebastian stilled, noticing how intently MC was staring at Ominis, free to study him without worry of being caught. Her eyes held a fascination that burned vividly, and if he hadn’t known her better, he might have thought to be envious of the rapt attention she had focused on him.

“Oh? This sounds interesting. How may I be of service, my dear? It must be quite something to haul me out into this awful weather.”

“I’m looking for someone,” she said, her hands twisting together again, a flush staining her cheeks. “You are the only person I can ask this of, Ominis, and I am placing all of my hope onto the possibility that you can help me.”

Something icy began to trickle down Sebastian’s spine, a thick and choking realisation of where this could be headed. He looked at Ominis, saw the curious tilt of his head, and then turned to the anxious plea on MC’s face.

“I see. Well, who are you looking for?”

MC took a steadying breath, and to Sebastian’s surprise, her shaking hand reached out for him, her fingers like ice as she grasped hold of his hand. He wrapped his hand firmly around hers, waiting for the next words out of her mouth.

“I’m looking for Elizabeth Gaunt,” she said, her voice so strained it was breathless.

Sebastian felt the quickening of his pulse, his ears roaring in the silence that followed that name. Ominis went rigid, whatever colour he had in his porcelain complexion faded to a waxy white, his mouth parting in stunned disbelief. 

Looking at MC, Sebastian could see the tears welling in her eyes, the savage grip she held on his hand conveying the stress she must have been feeling in that moment. The shocking realisation swept through him and he stared at her with new eyes. She couldn’t be…

Ominis made a choking sound, clearing his throat as his hand gripped his cane with tight control. “And why would you be looking for her?”

“You do know her, then?” MC asked, hope flaring in her eyes. “She is a close relative of yours?”

“She is my aunt,” Ominis said tightly, his face ashen, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “My estranged aunt, I might add. None of us have seen her for many years. What do you want with her?”

A tear escaped and rolled down MC’s cheek, her lips trembling as she stared at Ominis. “Elizabeth Gaunt is my birth mother,” she said, her voice wobbling dangerously. Sebastian gave her hand a squeeze, his other arm swiftly wrapping around her waist as she swayed. “If she is your aunt, then…then that means we are cousins.”

Ominis staggered slightly, his head shaking in denial, a shocked gasp escaping his lips as he began to back up away from them. MC was shaking in Sebastian’s arms, and he held her up, her knees caving as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks, shuddering at the look on Ominis’ face.

“No…that’s impossible…” Ominis muttered, a gloved hand pressing to his mouth. “The only child Aunt Elizabeth ever had died. The child died when she was a baby…”

MC sobbed and Sebastian held her against him, trying to grasp this information himself as he turned a pleading look towards his shaken friend. “Ominis, please,” he said.

“Don’t plead with me,” Ominis snapped, his mouth tightening. “Did you know about this? Where in Merlin’s name did you get this information?”

MC dug into her pocket and retrieved a file, holding it up with a shaking hand. Sebastian took it from her, trying to look reassuring as he pressed a kiss to her head, whilst his mind and heart raced with a million thoughts and feelings. Opening the file, he needed to see this with his own eyes, the inked words confirming the birth record for MC.

“MC has a document from Ministry archives recording her birth,” Sebastian said, maintaining control over his voice as he tried to make sense of it all. “Here, you can check for yourself. It says she was born to Elizabeth Gaunt and a man named William.”

“William Brierley,” Ominis choked, shaking his head. He took the parchment file, daring to slip his wand free in order to read it. “Gods…”

“You know of him? So, it’s true,” MC sobbed, staring at Ominis. “You’re really my family.”

Ominis turned away from them, pacing on the path as he gathered himself, rechecking the evidence he held in his hand. The rain fell softly around them, but none of them paid much heed to it any more, their minds too full of what was unfolding between them. Sebastian held MC in his embrace, soothing a hand against her head as she trembled, crying freely now. When she looked up at him, the fear in her eyes staggered him. 

“He hates the very idea of it,” she rasped painfully, wincing.

“Give him a moment, MC,” he urged, his chest tight with worry. “Let him process it. I’m in need of a moment myself.”

“Do you hate the thought of me being a Gaunt, too?” 

He stared at her, tears and raindrops dripping from her pale face, her dark hair hanging limply in the cold breeze. He couldn’t help scanning her features, searching for any resemblances he may have missed before, but all he could see was the face of the girl he loved. It mattered not what blood flowed through her veins, a daughter of Slytherin, a witch most powerful and utterly beautiful.

“I could never hate you,” he promised, shaking his head. “So, you’re a Gaunt. I already love one member of that gods forsaken family, perhaps I was destined to love another.”

Sagging against him in relief, she buried her face into him, his arms holding her tight as he glanced across towards Ominis. He seemed to have gathered himself, and he turned, cane angled so he could move towards them. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers gently seeking out MC. Touching her shoulder, he grasped it, and she looked up at him.

“So, cousin,” he said, his pale ethereal eyes shining with unshed tears. “May I call you that?”

As she whimpered, Ominis appeared to reach for her, and Sebastian manoeuvred her into his embrace. Ominis usually wasn’t one for too much physical interaction, so to see him like this pulled at heartstrings in Sebastian’s chest. At Ominis’ gesture, he moved closer to them, joining the embrace so that the three of them stood together, wrapped in each other’s arms. It reminded him of that terrible day when they had discovered Slytherin’s Scriptorium, the dark terror of having to inflict pain in order to survive had bonded the three of them in ways that nobody else would ever understand. They had held each other like this that night, bound by the horror, the secrecy, the shared pain of their memories.

Now, they were bound by something even deeper. They were family, and once again, he felt certain that nobody else would understand it.

Ominis held the birth record, and Sebastian took it, looking down to read the truth of MC’s bloodline again. Realising there was another parchment tucked behind it, he turned the paper over, a curious frown dipping over his brow as he read the details of the orphanage she had grown up in. 

As his eyes read the details quickly, Sebastian felt his blood freeze in his veins when they landed on a name that was all too familiar to him. His lungs screamed for air, but it was as though his mind had forgotten how to control his basic bodily needs. He stared and stared until the name and signature blurred out of reality. No wonder she had asked him if he knew about her mother, if he had known who she was all along.

“What is it?” Ominis asked, frowning in his direction. “I felt you tense.”

Blinking through his shock, Sebastian stared at MC, barely managing to draw the breath required to speak. “MC, why is Uncle Solomon’s name on your orphan paperwork?”

Turning her head slowly to look at him, her eyes dark and pained, she fixed him with a look that made him shiver. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me,” she said.

Fate, it seemed, enjoyed kicking the shit out of him far too much.

To be continued...

Ivy Montgomery is an OC character created and owned by @eternalremorse Used with her kind permission 💜

Taglist: @eternalremorse @slytherin-paramour @evaslytherpuff @marketfreshfics @writing-intheundercroft @sevprince-91 @loving-him-was-red13

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

With the last breath II

Word count: 1200+

Warnings: none I can think of

Part I || Part III

This was supposed to be just a short paragraph of Azriel's POV, but on Saturday's night I sat down and started to write. And it turned into a whole chapter. Well such things happen 🤷

English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes 🙏

Azriel didn't bother to think things over. Not now. Y/N was safe in his arms, but it meant nothing. It could be late.. He didn't want to think about it because it would mean a great pain. Because it would shatter his whole being. He pulled her closer to his strong chest and rather concentrated on flapping his wings. He flew up back to the balcony she fell from. Anxiety was eating him alive so he couldn't wait any longer and needed to make sure. Slowly and carefully he put her on the floor while making a list of necessary steps to follow.

First step: check her vital functions. Holding his breath he lightly pushed two shaking fingers to the pulse point on her throat, soon moving them under her nose. When he was sure she was breathing and her heartbeats were steady, he sighed with relieve. Y/N was alive. Still alive. He felt a big stone falling off of his chest, suddenly feeling bit lighter. Azriel closed eyes for a moment exhaling shakily. He took several deep breaths trying to calm down the shiver and his too rapid heartbeats. He had to concentrate.

Second step: look for injuries. For who knows what reason she was unconscious. Y/N could have been hurt before she fell or during it. Carefully touching her body he checked her for injuries and fractures.  Another sigh of relieve left him as he didn't find any blood, lumps, bruises nor broken bones. Shallow breaths was the only abnormality he detected. After considering everything possible Azriel came to the conclusion that there is only one reason for this. Y/N had to pass out because she was scared. But why was there a smile on her face? It was so long since he saw her smile like this. It didn't make sense. Pushing it aside he decided to think about it later.

Third step: get her warm. Gently Azriel picked her up in a bridal style and took her into the House. He couldn't help it. His arms tightened around her flabby body. He always thought Y/N was petite, but holding her like this she seemed even more fragile and smaller. During joint dinners she ate so little that it made him worried whether she was enough fed. And now Azriel could clearly state that Y/N certainly wasn't. She was so light he could hold her in one arm without any troubles.

Standing in the corridor he hesitated. Azriel wanted to take Y/N to her room, but just then he realized he had no idea where to go. She lived together with priestesses above the library, but he'd never let himself nor his shadows enter their private part of the House. He also didn't want anybody to find out what happened to her for understandable reasons. It was up to Y/N to decide if she wants inner circle and others to know about it.

After debating with himself whether he should take her to his or some vacant room, Azriel decided his room would be better. Despite everything, nobody ever dared to invade his privacy without his permission. Not even his brothers.

He struck down the corridor while the shadows helped him opening the door and then closed it silently. They even rolled the covers on the bed aside and took out a blanket from his closet. They seemed to be just as worried as their master, lightly touching her skin and caressing her forehead. Usually Azriel would hold them close to his body, afraid they would scare Y/N or make her feel uncomfortable, but now he just let them do as they pleased.

Carefully Azriel laid Y/N on the bed and pulled the covers up, wrapping her tightly in. He stopped to look at her face. Y/N looked so beautiful and calm. How many times he imagined her in his bed.. Watching her peaceful sleep.. Touching her delicate skin.. Pressing her body to his.. And now she was here right in his bed, her scent mixing with his own. Azriel noted to himself to make sure the House doesn't change the sheets until her scent completely fades out and maybe not even then.

He reached out and tucked few stray locks of hair behind her ear. They were so soft, much softer than he imagined. Suddenly the realization of what he had just done hit him hard. After long years of dreaming he touched her. For real this time. And he even held her in his arms. Shocked Azriel retreated few steps from the bed, bumping into an armchair under the window. Slowly he sat down. His mouth went dry and his heart pounded like crazy. In disbelief he gazed at his scarred hands. As he finally processed that information, a small smile found its way to his face.

A glass of water appeared on the nightstand next to the bed. The House sent him a reminder.

Fourth step: hydrate. Even unconscious Y/N might be in shock and in need of water. He stood up moving back towards the bed and hesitantly sat down on the edge of the mattress next to her. Slowly Azriel lifted up her head, this time being well aware of every little touch. With heart thundering in his chest he enjoyed the sensation of her smooth skin and soft hair in his rough palm. Azriel wanted to memorize it all, so he could replay these feelings later. This was the first and most likely the last time he can touch her. Once Y/N awakes she would leave and avoid him as before.

He reached out for the glass and halted thinking about the best way how to get the water into her mouth. As unusual as it was, Azriel was nervous which caused a slight tremor of his hands. He didn't want to pour out the glass on her. If only there was a spoon. But it wasn't the only way. His gaze settled on her full lips. Sweet, lovely and gently rounded like two petals of pink rose. Breath caught in his throat as cold sweat ran down his spine. He felt torn. Should he ask the House for spoon or.. Azriel swallowed decided the guilt can torture him later.

He took water into his mouth, but ended up drinking it himself. He was too nervous. Taking several deep breaths he tried it one more time. Leaning over Y/N his lips pressed into hers. Little by little he let the water flow into her mouth. His eyes closed. 'Oh, Mother,' he cursed mentally. Literally everything about Y/N was much better than he'd ever imagined. Her sweet floral scent mixed with smell of old parchment and ink messed with his head and senses making him stay in this position even after all water was gone. Gods, if he could.. If only she allowed him.. Azriel rather pulled away before doing something really bad.

It was too many feelings and thoughts at once. He needed more space and time to think this all over. He didn't believe that he would be able to keep himself under the control near Y/N, so he retrieved back to the armchair under the window. There had to be some way. No way he could continue to live like before, to keep the distance. Not after he got to touch her and taste her.

The shadows swallowed Azriel leaving him to his thoughts.

[bradshawsbitch]

winter blues | rhett abbott x gn!reader

my masterlist | my ko-fi

synopsis; rhett had never cared much for christmas. and it seemed that no one really cared for him. except perhaps you.

warnings; gender neutral reader, fluff, no use of y/n, mentions of old norms of raising boys, mentions of belt, ideations of toxic masculinity, repressed emotions, firearm mention (very brief), me once again somewhat waxing poetic about horses, l-bombs, mentions of christmas morning alone, rhett abbott wants love and he wants to be cherished okay

disclaimer; this can be read to be a part of the horsemanship universe, but there is no need to read that to get the ropes of this one.

word count; 2K. short n' sweet.

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

There were many things in life that passed by Rhett. Things that he shrugged off, things that he fought for, and things he simply let go. It had been long since he’d given up fighting for recognition or thanks for his actions, when it had dawned on him that those things were expected of him. Rhett was expected to wake up early on Christmas morning to feed the horses and check the cattle, because Perry had Amy. Perry had Amy, and Royal had Cecilia - meanwhile Rhett didn’t have anyone who needed his presence during those early morning hours. No one who cared if he was out in the bitter snow, making sure the animals were safe and fed. 

It had been like this for a few years now. For some reason, Royal had come to the conclusion that Rhett could shoulder more than his older brother could. Rhett was made of something sturdier, he let things go - he shrugged it off. Truth of the matter was that Rhett cared. He cared so much. Royal had noticed it when his son was younger, in the way his son cared so deeply for the animals - he’d cry if Royal had to put any of them down. Rhett would ask questions, he was curious and inquisitive as a youth. Full of life, and full of emotion. As a child Rhett had cried freely, and often - something that Royal could not quite comprehend nor completely accept.

Royal had made it his mission to toughen up his son. Make him ready for the harsh and rugged reality of the world around him, and he had done so with gusto. He’d usually only tell his son to bite the bullet, or shake him slightly if that didn’t work - and only when Rhett was little would he ever use the belt on him to make him understand.

In Royals’ eyes he’d done Rhett a favor. He’d prepared him for taking on the responsibilities of being a man. In Rhett’s eyes, he’d been muted almost - thrown aside and been branded as ‘useless’ unless he proved his worth through strength and stoic bravery. 

Rhett had shouldered the responsibilities his father had deemed him strong enough to bear. He’d protect his brother, he would protect his niece, his father, his mother - anyone, really. He would do it in a heartbeat if he felt it necessary, and he wouldn’t ask for much back.

Furrowed brows almost disappeared beneath the brim of his hat as he stood by his red mare, her soft neigh and snorts of appreciation enough to bring a smile to his face. His father had once threatened to put the mare down if he didn’t stop crying. That was the only time Rhett had told his father to 'fuck off' before vibrating with anger and storming off so he didn't get physical with his father. 

His long fingers smoothed over the neck of the mares thick winter coat, his fingers almost disappearing from view in the soft red. Cayenne turned her head towards Rhett, letting her muzzle rest against his stomach as she exhaled loudly. The sound made Rhett smile, reaching up to scratch softly behind her fluffy ear. 

“I like you too, sweets,” he murmured softly. The mare had almost finished up her breakfast, and the other horses were chewing peacefully in the stalls around them. It was still pitch black out at this early hour, and Rhett had begrudgingly pelted on layers of clothing to keep himself warm as he hauled bales of hay into the barn. Perry was supposed to have done it yesterday, but Rhett was never surprised anymore when it wasn’t done. Just another thing to let go and let pass by. 

Giving his mare a quick brush, with only one temper tantrum from her side, Rhett swiftly made sure the thick blanket under her saddle was comfortable for her before saddling and gently warming the bit of the bridle in his hands before slowly easing it into her mouth. 

“C’mon, Cay, time to make sure the others are doing alright out on the pastures,” Rhett mumbled softly, leading the mare out of the stables and hauling himself into the comfortable seat of the saddle.

Quickly adjusting the reins, and his thick jacket, he gently smacked his lips to make Cayenne set off in a brisk walk to warm her up. An electric lantern hung from her saddle on the one side, and Rhett held another in his hand on the opposite side - raising it every once in a while to see clearer. 

Suddenly, Rhett’s mare came to a halt, her head held high as her ears clipped nervously, before focusing on being pointed straight ahead. A millisecond of fear rushed through Rhett, and his spine straightened subconsciously to ready himself to be bucked off should Cayenne spook. It was cold out, and he knew any old horse could get fresh in the winter cold - but Cayenne even more so. 

“What do you see, girl?” Rhett grumbled out loud, squinting into the distance to try to catch sight of what his mare had already seen. There, in the distance, a soft red light could be seen dancing against the treeline in the darkness of the morning.

Rhett knew his father had let some crazy girl stay on one of the pastures during the summer, but surely it wasn’t this pasture. Rhett couldn’t help the annoyed sigh that tumbled from his lips as he spurred Cayenne on, wondering briefly if he made a mistake in leaving their firearms at home. No, he figured he was a fair enough talker to be able to manage should things get hostile. 

As he neared the figure by the fire, he squinted to try to see any features in the dark. Cayenne let out a welcoming neigh into the silence, which was answered by the buckskin that Rhett had missed. A very familiar buckskin… a smile began to play on his lips as he urged Cayenne to go faster the last bit. 

“Sunshine,” Rhett breathed out, his small smile having turned into a surprised grin. You were sat by a small fire, a tonne of blankets around you and beside you, a thermos laying beside you and a steaming cup held between your hands as the light of the fire danced over your features. You looked beautiful. 

“Hey there cowboy,” you replied, small smile and heavenly voice welcoming him into the warmth. “I’ve checked the cattle for you. Made sure they had enough to eat and drink,” gesturing to the spot beside you, you continued softly “Come. You must be cold. I brought us some breakfast,” the softness of your voice, paired with the look in your eyes had Rhett weak in his knees as he swung his leg over his mares back, to land on the frozen solid ground with a wince. 

“What are you doing out here in the cold, sweetheart?” Rhett murmured as he sat close to you, his jean clad thigh brushing against yours as you draped your thick blanket around his shoulder. As your arm was slung over his back, you stole a chaste kiss from his cold lips, making his already red cheeks even more flushed. 

“Figured you’d be the one to tend the animals today,” you said, a small, sad smile on your lips. It wasn’t pity that swirled in your eyes, but a look of devotion and admiration. A look that took Rhetts’ breath away. 

“And I didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas morning,” you continued, gaze flitting down to the fire you had started some time ago. “I missed you,” your soft whisper almost echoed through the mountains, shaking Rhett to his core.

Every time you confessed any of these feelings towards him, it took everything in him not to let tears seep from his eyes. It was almost overwhelming how freely you shared your love for him, with him. It made him dizzy to think that someone could care as deeply as he cared. 

Rhett inhaled a shaky breath, tilting the hat that was set firmly on his head a little back before burying his face into the warm patch of skin that was exposed at your neck. Tears were burning in his eyes, and he didn’t want you to see him cry.

Cry because you loved him. Cry because you cared enough to meet him out there, when he hadn’t even asked - when he never expected you to. Cry because you were the only one who he felt truly appreciated him as he was. 

“Oh, Rhett… baby,” you murmured, your hand finding the hairs at the nape of his neck, curling your fingers around the soft strands. 

“Merry Christmas, my love… even though I would hate to see you cry, you have to remember that it’s always okay to let go with me. I can carry some of it, too,” you whispered softly in his ear as you sat in a close embrace.

The words made Rhett inhale sharply, before the tears that burned in his eyes slowly rolled down his cheeks. He felt shame burning in the pit of his stomach, and the urge to clear his throat and bottle it up was so strong - but he knew he couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t shrug it off. He needed to let himself feel, and you had time and time again proved that you thought the world of him when he did. 

Some time went by, you holding him as the weight seemed to roll off his shoulders - years of tension suddenly easing out of his body - almost as if it leaked out of his ocean eyes. After a small hiccup, Rhett sat up to gaze into your eyes, a sheepish smile adorning his handsome face. 

“There he is,” you murmured fondly, reaching out to softly swipe away the remainder of the wet tears that lingered on his cheeks. 

“Merry Christmas, sunshine… you have no idea how much all of this means to me,” he confessed, looking at the effort you had made to meet him so early that the sun hadn’t yet managed to permeate the horizon. You smiled softly, reaching over to the weaved basket on your side, pulling out the breakfast you had prepared, along with some pastries you had spent yesterday evening baking for the two of you to enjoy. 

“You mean the world to me, Rhett. It’s as easy as that,” you smiled, offering him a steaming cup of hot cocoa. The two of you sat in silence for a while, before you leant closer to him, relishing in the way you could feel his sturdy chest through all of his clothing. His lips pressed against the top of your head, and you could feel as he inhaled your scent, further relaxing into your embrace. 

Tilting your head up, you softly nudged at his jawline with your nose, a soft noise between a whine and a hum vibrating in your throat. Rhett tilted his face towards you, and his soft smile could barely be seen before his slips connected with yours in a deep kiss - his free hand gently cupping the side of your face before it traveled to rest in your hair and on your neck.

“God, I love you,” Rhett groaned between kisses, his words rolling onto yours as he took your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling softly as a breathy whine left you. His tongue softly caressed your own before he leant his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he continued breathlessly

“I can’t wait until I can have a home with you. I’ll love you so good. Take care of you, I promise… I promise I’ll cherish you every day,” the end of the sentence almost came out pleading, as if he was scared you would disappear if he uttered his vulnerable words.

It only made your heart swell, as tears burned in your eyes now, a happy smile on your face as you rested your hand against his cheek as the light of the fire illuminated and danced over his handsome features. 

“I can’t wait to share my life with you, either. You always take good care of me, Rhett. Always make me feel so safe and loved,” the end of your sentence was accentuated with the soft kiss you pressed to his lips. 

Rhett smiled, and as the two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, waiting for the fire to burn out and pack the Christmas morning breakfast up, he figured this was probably the best Christmas he could ever remember having.

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

eek!! hope you liked this little short one! please let me know what you thought?<3

tagging people who might like; @lt-bradshaw @rhettabbotts @rassvetsky @roleycoleyland @theharddeck @sebsxphia @floyd-luvr @mothdruid @hangmanapologist

[starrystevie]

part one

nancy wheeler has fought beasts and monsters unknown to mankind, demogorgons and dogs and bats and vecna himself. she’s grown strong in more ways than one over the years. she’s always been smart enough, but now she has muscles and she has guts and she can face anything she needs to with her firearms and her brains. 

which is why it feels so stupid that she can’t bring herself to knock on robin buckley’s front door. 

it’s warm outside in that not quite summer way where the air is sticky but isn’t suffocating. they sky is clear, the stars and the moon shining overhead with just enough moonlight to guide her to the buckley’s house after she leaves eddie’s. it feels like all she did was blink and she got there, too wrapped up in her determined thoughts to even remember her feet carrying her to robin. 

but she’s too afraid to knock. it’s silly, nancy knows it ridiculous, that it’s just a door she’s knocked on a million times before when the two girls hung out together. it’s a door that mr. buckley answers to greet nancy with a grin, opening the door wider to let her in. a door she watches robin bounce through after she drops her off, waiting until the lock clicks and the light is on robin’s room before driving away. 

mrs. buckley is going to hate nancy for stealing the pebbles out of her rose garden because with the door out of the question, she has to get robin’s attention somehow. she’s good at aiming with her gun, can shoot at soda cans and monsters in different dimensions so it shouldn’t be that hard to hit robin’s window. 

winding her arm back, the pebble hits the glass pane of the window with a soft ting, not nearly loud enough to wake her up if she’s sleeping. the lights aren’t on in her room so nancy tries again, this time hitting the window with more force than she intends, but it does the trick. she watches as warm yellow floods the once dark room and she waits with baited breath to see if robin will pull open the window. 

nancy can feel her heartbeat in her ears, her lungs tight with anxious nerves and her jaw protesting as she grinds her teeth together. she forces her face to fall into neutrality instead of being pinched in like she knows it is. it would be just her luck that robin would see her with a set jaw and furrowed brows and think the world is ending yet again instead of realizing that nancy is head over heels for her. 

it happens in slow motion. nancy tosses another pebble and as soon as it’s left her hand, robin’s face appears as she throws open the window, the rock hitting her square in the forehead. 

“ow! what the- nance? what are you doing down there? it’s the middle of the night.”

robin’s rubbing her forehead and squinting down at nancy to look at her in the dark and suddenly even monster fighting nancy wheeler is frozen in place. 

“i’m... uhm.” nancy unclenches her fists, sending the remaining pebbles tumbling to the ground and tinkling against the stone of the driveway. “just uhh, came out for a walk. it’s such nice night!” 

it sounds fake even to nancy’s ears and she has to force herself not to roll her eyes at her own inability to make up a convincing lie or talk to a pretty girl like she’s done so many times before. robin’s face scrunches up as she slowly nods like she doesn't believe a word nancy said. 

“...sure, okay. yeah, nice night.” robin pauses and nancy feels like her heart is going to explode in her chest, ending her misery then and there. “is there a reason you didn’t want to use the door, romeo?” 

and the thing is, nancy knows she doesn’t mean it that way. knows that robin isn’t condemning them to be star crossed lovers who should stay away from daggers, knows that it’s just robin’s sense of humor that she normally loves, but it still sets something ablaze underneath her skin. 

“can you come down?” nancy asks, suddenly so sure of herself. 

she sees robin hesitate, looking back and forth between where nancy is standing and her hand that’s holding up her window. but then she’s nodding, her short waves falling into her face before shooting nancy a grin that has her practically melting into the aggregate. 

“just let me put on some clothes and i’ll be right down.”

nancy’s stomach flips, skin growing hot as she pictures things that she shouldn’t be picturing at robin’s mention of putting on clothes. she knows she just means she’ll change out of pajamas, but it still sends nancy’s mind wandering into dangerous territory, a place it shouldn’t be going if she wants to be clear-headed before baring her soul to robin. 

the seconds pass like hours. nancy looks between the ground and the front door, the moon and the front door, the tree line and the front door, robin’s window and the front door more times than would ever be considered normal until said front door is suddenly opening and there robin is, bathed in the same moonlight that brought nancy to her. 

“hey,” robin says simply, like she isn’t her moon and nancy isn’t a wave being pulled to her. 

nancy can only smile back, her feet stumbling the smallest bit as she walks towards robin. she can feel the knot that was forming in the pit of her stomach unraveling the closer she gets to her, like being near robin could do away with her every worry. and maybe it could, maybe all nancy wheeler will ever need to fix her problems is robin. maybe all nancy wheeler will ever want to fix her problems is robin. 

“hi,” her voice feels too small for the moment when she steps in front of the other girl. 

they stare at each other. it’s not a normal occurrence; they hardly ever find themselves without something to say between the two of them. if watching your friends almost die and fighting off monsters and saving the world was good for one thing, it was giving them each other. giving them a shoulder to lean on. giving them someone to talk forever with. 

“nance, what’s up?” robin’s face is open, teetering on worry, as she looks at nancy. her eyes flit down for the briefest of moments, glancing over her face down to where nancy’s hands are fidgeting and then back up. “and don’t tell me you just had a sudden desire to walk to my house at one in the morning because it’s a nice night since that is not a normal nancy thing to do-”

“swing set.” nancy cuts her off effectively and begins to walk backwards to the playset in the buckley’s backyard, laughing at the way robin comically lets her jaw drop open. “i think we should swing.”

eventually, the only sound between them is the creaking of the swing chains, the wind rustling the treetops, frogs and cicadas and owls in the distance. the air breezes through nancy’s hair as she keeps a slow but certain pace and robin keeps her feet planted in the dirt, pushing herself slightly. 

“you know,” nancy starts, breaking through the still of the night, “we never had a swing set growing up. my mom was always too afraid i’d hurt myself, i guess she knew even then that i’d try to swing too high and then jumping off just because i could.” 

robin’s laugh is like bells twinkling. “you, nancy wheeler? i guess i thought you’d be afraid of heights or something. never really pegged you for a jumping from swings girl.” 

“oh definitely. i’ve always been good about going after what i want even if it was scary.” she shoots robin a grin, one full of controlled mischief in the way she had perfected. “but by the time mike was old enough to start asking for a swing set, i was already in middle school and there were more important things to focus on. school, friends-”

“-boys.”

the swing chains rattle and nature moves on around them. 

“... boys.” 

nancy lets the tip of her shoe drag through the dirt to slow herself down. she looks over at robin, takes in how her eyes shine even in the darkness, how her cheeks looked flushed, how she’s biting at the corner of her lip in the way that nancy knows she does when she’s nervous and, god, it takes everything in her not to kiss her silly right then and there. 

“nance,” robin questions, but then stops when nancy gets out of her swing to stand in front of robin, bracketing her in with her arms on either swing chain. 

“i’m sure some poet out there could make you my swing set.”

robin takes in a stuttering breath and nancy watches as her hands tighten where they are around the chains. without thinking, she lets her own hands travel down to cover robin’s, fingers slotting between the tops of her knuckles. 

“is this okay?” nancy breathes out. 

“yeah,” robin breathes back. 

“i think i’ve been scared for a long time. i wanted to swing really high and jump off but i had my mom or something in my head telling me that i wasn’t brave enough. but you,” she lets out a stuttering laugh, watches it ruffle the waves around robin’s face. “you make me feel brave. brave enough to try, at least.”

“... we’re not talking about swings anymore, right?”

it’s so intrinsically robin that it startles a real laugh out of nancy, something she can’t behind a dainty hand. it’s loud and sudden and has them both clutching at their sides as the regain their breath. 

“no, we’re not talking about swings anymore, oh my god. i’m trying to tell you i love you and of course you have to interrupt me!”

robin’s smile is damn near blinding, big and wide and so full of something that it makes nancy’s heart squeeze painfully in her chest. she’s sure the smile she’s giving robin in return is nothing short of the same. 

“sorry, sorry, keep going.”

robin mimes zipping her lips shut but nancy couldn’t keep going even if she wanted to. she looks at robin’s cheeks, the way they’re pulled up from her smile and tinged with pink. her eyes, the way they sparkle underneath the stars. her fingernails, the way the blue polish is chipped at the edges. nancy can’t talk, can’t keep going, because all her brain can supply her with is the need to touch. 

she swings a leg over robin’s and settles in her lap, hooking her hands around her neck, and pulling them closer. 

“no, the moments ruined now,” nancy whispers. 

she can hear the smile in robin’s voice when she replies. “go back to the part where you love me.”

she smells spearmint toothpaste and something so specifically robin before she presses their grinning lips together. they can talk later, she’ll wax poetic about how much robin means to her when the sun is awake to hear it. 

tags of people who asked and some of my usual suspects! @buckleydiaz @thefreakandthehair @fairysteve @hotluncheddie @henderdads @stevethehairington @toburnup @henrystars @kingofscoops @letmeplaytheliontoo @kkpwnall @through-thick-and-quinn @sharpbutsoft @yournowheregirl @mysteddiebrainrot @riality-check @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @awkwardgravity1 @grimmfitzz @4nemo1egend @pluto-pepsi @butterflysandpeppermint @theamericanjewitch @doyoumindifislytherin-1 @negativityrules

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Drugged Hero Whumpee used as Party Favor at Villain's Party part 6

Warnings: drugged sedation, torture, blood, severe whump/intimate whump, restraints

For a heartbeat she thought about bashing Archenemy in the face with her bound hands, but she knew resistance was pointless. She was hardly a threat in her terrible state of health anyway.

Archenemy spun and beckoned silently with a hand, and Ava strode purposefully after him, a strong hand splayed across Shadow's back to keep her from sliding off her shoulder. Shadow twitched and winced every step Ava took, her wounds rubbing in so many places. And her nose – possibly fractured or broken, judging from the blasting heat radiating from it. She knew that if that was the case, she'd have to reset the bone for her powers to heal it right, a task that made her nauseous even thinking about it.

Shadow tried to pay attention to every hall she was carried down, tried to memorize the route and store away those tidbits of knowledge for later. Until finally, Archenemy pushed open a door, and Ava padded into what Shadow realized was a giant bathroom. She let out a surprise yelp as Ava leaned over and half-dumped half-dropped her onto the cold tiled floor next to the giant bathtub.

Archenemy was hovering in the doorway, expression dark and calculating. “I will give you two some privacy while you get cleaned up – but try to run, Shadow, and Ava has my permission to use any means of force to stop you. This will be your only warning. Understood?”

Shadow’s only form of acknowledgment was a hateful glower, but apparently it was enough for Archenemy, as he stepped out of the bathroom and shut the door. Only when his footsteps had gone out of earshot did Shadow let her guard down a fraction, a racking cough escaping her as she doubled over and spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor before she could stop herself. Ava frowned down at it.

“Sorry,” Shadow mumbled apologetically. Ava didn't say anything, and Shadow flinched when her once-friend tugged her bound wrists into her lap. She instinctively jerked out of her grip.

“W-What are you doing?” Shadow growled uneasily.

Ava cocked her head to the side, a few long seconds of stillness passing like she was processing the question word-by-word and calculating how to best answer.

“...I was going to remove the restraints, so that I can help you undress and clean yourself,” she finally said, the first time Shadow had heard her speak since she'd been introduced. Maybe that was part of her programming, or whatever, to not speak unless spoken to directly. It was sickening to think that Archenemy could break someone so thoroughly they became a mere puppet in his twisted games.

Shadow reluctantly held her wrists out, waiting as Ava unlocked each cuff. Ava did the same for her ankles until Shadow could finally move freely again, sprawled awkwardly on the floor.

The faucet was turned on, slowly filling up the large bathtub. Light hands grabbed at Shadow’s clothes, carefully tugging her shirt off first. Shadow bit her lip hard to keep herself from crying out as the shirt peeled away from wounds it had gotten stuck to with dried blood, making them bleed anew. She shivered as the cold air hit her exposed skin. It felt too open and vulnerable, making her skin crawl with anxiety as bit by bit other articles of tattered clothing were removed, revealing more and more vicious gashes and lacerations alongside old scars permanently etched into her flesh. The entire time Ava was silent, working skillfully and swiftly.

Shadow was a little startled when Ava unexpectedly scooped her up like she weighed nothing and set her down in the tub of warm water. But secretly she was a little grateful; she was pretty sure she was too weak to climb into the bath on her own. A sigh escaped parted lips as she let the warmth seep into her tired, aching bones, dulling the agony. But she tensed up as Ava took up a soapy sponge and started delicately scrubbing her blood-stained skin, cleaning grit and grime out of the worst of the wounds.

Shadow gritted her teeth and groaned as she pressed on a particularly deep gash right below her ribs, before the silence became unbearable. “...Ava?” She croaked hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Are you… Are you still in there, somewhere?” It sounded stupid even to Shadow’s own ears, she knew better than to hope. But still, the truth stung.

Ava cocked her head to the side, the corners of her lips twitching into a puzzled frown. “I’m… not sure I understand the question, Miss.”

Shadow wrapped her arms around herself miserably, watching blood-tinted foam float atop the bathwater. “Why did you call me ‘Miss’? You know my name.”

“...Because that's how Archenemy prefers me to refer to people. Sir or Miss.” Ava looked even more confused now.

“And do you always do what Archenemy tells you?”

“...Yes?” It was said with an almost undetectable hint of hesitancy, like Ava was trying to see if that was the answer Shadow was searching for.

Shadow grabbed a spare bar of soap from the side of the tub in frustration and dug her nails into it until it cracked into smaller pieces that she dropped into the water, watching the chunks sink to the bottom through the red haze of the bloody water.

“How did Archenemy get into your head like this?” Shadow muttered, half to herself.

“He didn’t,” Ava argued almost instantly, robotically, eyes glassy. “Unlike you, I am not a prisoner. I am choosing to be here. I'm allowed to go wherever I want, as long as Archenemy approves.”

“So you're still on a leash, then,” Shadow snorted. “It's not freedom if you have to check in with your master every time you want to go somewhere new.” That one seemed to catch Ava by surprise.

“I mean, do you even hear yourself right now?” Shadow scoffed, lip curling in disgust. “Archenemy is the enemy, he's not your friend. He's using you.”

Ava shrugged, completely unconcerned. “I'm sure that given time you'll start to enjoy it here too – it's not that bad once you stop fighting.”

“Does that mean you remember the times before you stopped fighting? Shadow held her breath hopefully, searching for a lead, anything she could use to get Ava back, the real Ava, if only she could find a way to trigger her memory.

Ava’s brow furrowed with concentration, her face wrinkling, but eventually she shook her head. “I can only remember small bits here and here… Archenemy says it's not healthy to dwell on the past, that we should look at the bright future instead. It's a waste of time to think about… before.”

Shadow’s blood boiled with rage, but she kept her mouth shut. It was clear nothing she said would get through Ava's thick skull. She was beyond reason.

Ava resumed cleaning Shadow with the sponge, pausing with a frown when she reached her face.

"Is your nose broken?" She asked suddenly. Shadow yelped in pain when Ava unexpectedly reached out to touch and examine it, reeling away from the contact hard enough that water splashed out of the tub.

"Looks like yes," Ava noted. "I'm going to have to re-set it for your powers to heal it right."

"No way," Shadow growled defensively. She knew how much it would hurt.

Ava sighed patiently. "Come on, you know I have to. Don't fight me on this, please."

And Shadow knew the only way out of this was by accepting the help when it was offered. Ava would force her if she resisted too much.

Shadow hesitated, then nodded, leaning toward her and screwing her eyes shut as she braced herself for the excruciating agony.

Ava gently grabbed her jaw with a hand to hold her steady, and before Shadow could flinch or pull away, she grabbed her nose and gave it a sharp yank, sliding it back into place.

A strangled scream died in Shadow's throat as black spots danced in her vision, eyes watering at the blaze of pain that shot through her face.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal

[ravenkinnie]

The crux of the matter is: Vi loves her sister.

She painted her love in blood on the stone walls in Stillwater; red and dark like fresh blood from scraped knees she patched on Powder so many times before, like the blood soaking the blanket they wrapped her sister in her first moments alive, before being laid in Vi's arms. In those days, the bruises on her ribs and her chest, her sides and her jaw, were still in the shape of a P, in the shape of her name as Vi repeated it to herself over and over, take care of Powder, get back to Powder, where is Powder-

It wasn't soon enough, it was eventually but they changed shape, into a baton, a boot, a fist, the blood soaking into the spaces between the stones, where Vi couldn't see anymore. Her chest hardened with it, the name harder and harder to dig out through the stone.

Until. The crack seeing the scribble on Caitlyn's report, the break, the shattering, at Jinx's wide eyes that Vi would always recognise in a face that she did and didn't at once. The quiver in her sister's voice when she asked are you real and how Vi didn't even think because hasn't she thought she's seen a flash of blue in the dark those first months, a voice calling her name in the days spent in isolation? She couldn't have known, not until Jinx ripped into herself on the floor of the cannery, she couldn't but she should have.

The smell of gunpowder is still heavy in the air, but Jinx's sobs stopped. She's eerily quiet, a more terriying feat than her anger, than her tears and her begging and apologies, her face broken up, features contorted into pain, into grief Vi can't see but she can imagine easily.

The ropes tight against her chest and arms dig painfully when Vi tries to breathe in, to calm her racing heartbeat, to hear anything over the roaring thrum of her pulse in her ears. She can smell blood, but she doesn't know where from, whether it's Silco's, mixed with the scent of gunpowder, whether it's her own from the gap between her teeth, the small open wound she feels tender on the back of her head. She thinks it's dried blood, matting her hair, not fresh, but the smell is so strong, metallic and nauseating, and Vi isn't sure.

Or-

Her eyes fall on Caitlyn, on Caitlyn's still form stretched out on the grimy floor and Vi can't look, she doesn't want to. Because when she does, she can't tell whether Caitlyn's chest is rising at all, whether the darkness around her head, the part of the floor hidden in the shadows, is her hair spread out across the concrete or a puddle of blood. The rope cuts into her muscles because Vi can't help the strain, she can't help pushing herself to the edge of the seat, the need to get up, get out, to check whether Caitlyn is breathing, whether she can feel that warm breath against her hand, rising goosebumps on her arms like Caitlyn's closeness does.

Her face is turned away, hidden in the dark, so Vi can't even see her softened features, lines she thought sharp at first but can't call them that in her mind now at all. All of Caitlyn is gentle, too tender to be laid out on the cold filthy floor amongst the iron scent of blood and the heavy smokey fear dripping off the walls, she should have never been here. But she was, because of Vi, because everything comes back to the stone in Vi's chest, to the crack inside it that she will never patch up, that she refuses to patch up.

A scrape of a chair against the floor; Jinx drops on it heavily, only the glimpse of the pink letters painted on the back before she's there, before Vi can't look away. Her sister looks empty, with hollow gaze, drained and exhausted like a child after a tantrum, but the toxic glow of her pink eyes makes the image more insidious, more sinister.

Vi should be shocked, she should be crushed, conflicted. And she is, her mind works so slow, the shock and stupor jammed between the cogs, and the bile on the backs of her teeth is so thick and bitter with fear, with Caitlyn's still chest, with the pulse in her ears making it impossible to hear whether there are any soft, quiet breaths coming from her direction.

But then there is something missing - the conflict.

"Jinx," she says, thick saliva coating the insides of her mouth. Jinx flinches at the name; it doesn't change anything. "It's okay. We can leave. We can."

Her eyebrows scrunch, a line between them that Vi knows means Powder would be holding back tears, the twitch in her cheek that means the same. But then she flinches again, more abrupt and harsher, the turn of her features becoming angrier as she looks to the side at something Vi can't see. "I don't." Her voice is angry, spitting out the words, but when she turns back to Vi there is none of that anger there. Her pink eyes glow with something deep and dark, tendrils of despair. "I can't trust you."

It hurts, the words hurt, but so does Vi's hand, as if it could still burn painfully from the contact with the soft skin of her sister's cheek, the force of the slap making her own palm sting. "No," Vi agrees.

Jinx looks at her with wide tearful eyes, the hurt and the hope hidden in those tears, her lip giving the tiniest tremble. Vi should think she looks like Powder, that she still hurts the same, the same scrunch in her forehead, the same twitch in her cheek. She doesn't look like Powder at all, not with the hollowness and the pink glow.

But she still looks Vi's sister. "I love you. Whatever you do, I love you." She lets her voice shake at the end but makes sure Jinx hears, that she understands.

Jinx doesn't turn her eyes away but Vi can't look into them anymore, she can't see whether they will flicker away again or remain. She shuts her own, tight, until fireworks burst underneath her eyelids, blue like smoke from a flare. She still can't hear any soft breaths through the thunder in her ears. She does hear the grating noise of the chair scraping against the floor as Jinx gets to her feet, the steps that move closer. Her hands and her eyes sting as Vi waits for whatever follows.

The start will always be the same as the end: Vi loves her sister. Somehow, it feels like the worst thing she's ever done.

[jakexneytiri]

hey dani.. this is my first time writing a fic. i'm not sure if i'll continue, but wanted you to read it since i'm trying hard. okay here we go OOH BTW it's jeytiri

Jake and Neytiri were lying down and listening to Pandora's night sounds. They held each other tighter and looked into each other's eyes. Then Neytiri pulled her husband's head down and kissed him lovingly. ''You are my world.'' She held his head in her lap and petted his hair. ''I love you so much.'' Jake smiled and looked at her lovingly. ''You are my everything. My universe.'' He held her hand and put it around his neck then kissed her. ''I would give my life for you in a heartbeat.'' He kissed her deeply. One small movement and they would end up cuddling with each other. Their breath were touching each other as they talked. Jake had his arms around her and he was caressing her body and kissing her on the throat. They were almost falling asleep but the passion in them was not letting them go.''I love you and only you.'' Jake said between kisses. ''You are the mother of my child.'' Neytiri smiled, she was feeling loved and protected. She was looking into his eyes and felt the warm and passionate emotions between them. ''I don't need anybody but you. I only had eyes for you.'' She was caressing his neck gently. They kissed again deeply, but this time their passion went deeper. Jake was holding her tightly against his chest, she liked to feel so small in his big strong arms. As they kissed and touched each other softly and deeply, the silence was broken by Jake's voice. ''My beautiful wife, my love, I want you now, I need you.'' His voice sounded like a deep thunder. Neytiri was getting overwhelmed from the emotions rushing throughout her body. She was smiling. ''Yes, I need you.'' She was panting, her breath was heavy and her heart was pounding. ''Let's go to our room, my love….'' Jake was holding her by her waist, it was as if they were dancing together. Neytiri was biting her lips as she looked at him with her big yellow eyes. Once they got inside the dimly lit room, Neytiri could feel the heat rising. Jake was removing her outfit. She liked the way he was looking at her as if she was the most beautiful Na'vi in the entire Pandora. She liked how he appreciated her beauty and how he desired her. ''Let me take a good look at you.'' Those few words were enough to make Neytiri shiver. She knew what he wanted and she was feeling extremely nervous. Jake was touching her body and kissing her on her neck. He was moving his body closer to her. She was feeling his breath on her neck and her heart was pounding. Neytiri was feeling overwhelmed by too many emotions at the same time, it was almost too much to bear. She wanted him, she wanted him badly. ''Do you want me right now?'' Jake was caressing her body and looking at her in the eyes as he was saying that. Neytiri was feeling overwhelmed by the emotions she was feeling. Her breathing was heavy and her body was trembling. ''Yes…. Yes…. I want you right now.'' She tried to hold herself together. The passion was eating away at her. Jake was kissing her neck and her chest, the feelings she was experiencing were all new and intense. Jake was making her feel things she had never felt before.

hi!! omg i feel so honored you want ME to read this first 🥹 oh i LOVE a good jeytiri fic, we can always use more of these two!!! 💕

now WHERE’S THE REST OF IT 💳💥

[2catsinaboat]

Some of my POTC fanfic...I can never seem to get a proper grasp on this story but am constantly obsessed with writing it lol.

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

Elizabeth Swann is fourteen and in love with her best friend. She would hardly dare to even think such a thing for years to come. But she is in love with him all the same. Heartbeat quickening when he is near, face heating when he smiles at her. And when they part, Elizabeth can never seem to stop her thoughts from drifting to him and his too kind eyes.

He’s always been too kind for this world.

Elizabeth Swann is fourteen and rebellious. She thinks herself knowledgeable of the world. Thinks that the tutors and books she’d gleaned her lessons from, hold as much fact as they do fiction. Thinks herself strong enough to bare the harshness of humanity. Thinks herself cunning and brave like the pirates in her dreams, their sharp blades and glorious freedom sending a bubbling excitement through her chest.

Tonight, Elizabeth thinks while slipping on her well-worn boots, is bound to bring such delights. It is very late now; night having truly settled into the island hours ago. It’s the first time she has dared to sneak out. Spurred by the hunger for danger and freedom that she cannot shake, no mattr how many times she stares wistfully out at the sea and daydreams about a different life. There are no good clothes in her closet to attempt this activity, Elizabeth realized earlier so she is still wearing the same silk dress, she had on during the day. Standing, Elizabeth paces towards her window, pausing near her chair to slip on a jacket and collect her coin purse.

The latch of the window clicks open easily, the panes swinging open with a low screech when she pushes. Sea air ghosts over her face, stoking the excitement she feels. On the ground, there lies a garden, full of various flowers that are all closed by now. Below the window, the outer wall is a rough brick, having been scaled upwards by Elizabeth on a few occasions already.

Going down turns out to be much harder.

Wrestling her skirts out of the window, Elizabeth grips the sill and attempts to find footholds. Which are much more difficult to find in complete darkness. Carefully, with her feet unsteadily perched on the worn bricks, Elizabeth lifts a hand, searching for the crack she knows is nearby. Finding it, she lifts her other hand, slowly climbing her way down. And, after a few terrifying mishaps, Elizabeth reaches the ground, dress only a bit worse-for-wear.

It is a fine walk into town, warm air making a giddy feeling rise up inside. Once Elizabeth reaches the cluster of shops and houses near the blacksmith’s, she searches the streets for any sign of Will. Shadows twist and leap after her as she walks, clawing at her hem, begging her to join them. Keeping her eyes and feet planted in the light of the oil lamps, Elizabeth pretends she does not notice.

Peering into the alleyway behind the blacksmith’s, Elizabeth startles when she notices a slumped figure in a dark doorway a few feet away.

“Will?” she asks in a hushed voice, trying to make a face in the darkness.

“Elizabeth?” A voice calls back, the figure stumbling closer until she can finally see him clearly.

“What on earth are you doing here?” Will asks, stepping fully into the light to face her, wearing a confused expression. He is dressed as usual, shirt, doublet, and breeches all stained with ash. A bit of it is smudged on his cheek and Elizabeth’s heart leaps at the sight. Cute, her heart hammers and she glances away.

“I could ask the same of you Will,” Elizabeth responds instead of answering, dragging her eyes away from the brick wall of the alley and back to at Will, “why are you out here asleep?”

Will winces slightly expression flashing into something stony. At the sight, a darkness howls inside Elizabeth, hungry for revenge against those who have caused Will harm. Before she can dwell longer on it, he says, “I was just taking a short break from my duties, the night is quite pleasant.”

His blatant lie irritates her, but Elizabeth is not about to waste the precious time she has arguing. So, she instead, she pushes any lingering unpleasantness, steels her courage and grabs Will’s arm, tugging him out of the alley. Once on the street, she lets go, face hot.

“It is quite pleasant,” she says quickly as they begin to wander down the deserted cobblestone, much too close than what is proper. Inside, her gut is currently mimicking the feeling of a ship being tossed about in a storm despite Elizabeth’s attempts to ignore it.

“Yes!” Beside her, Will is matching her pace with an awkward, stilted sort of stride, as if he forgot exactly how to walk. Their shoulders brush and they both jump, goodness is this awkward.

“…Do you enjoy the book I gave you last week?”

Will nods stiffly, “it is fascinating to read of about Alonso Quijano’s perspective on reality.”

“I thought he was quite ignorant and annoying,” Elizabeth says with a huff. Honestly, she’s been eager to discuss Don Quixote with someone other than her father who has already exhausted of her rants about her thoughts on the protagonist. They turn down another street, nearing the outskirts of town, passing a drunk man staggering towards a nearby pub.

“Really?” Will quirks an eyebrow up, shoulders finally relaxing, “I would have predicted you would think the man sympathetic.”

“His insanity seems such an easy lie for him to tell himself in order to not face true danger. He could have pretended that he was crazy and had freedom to do whatever he desired.”

Will hums, shrugging at her response. The cobblestone street has changed into a dirt road now, winding out of town and down to the shore then into the rest of the island. Beside them, the horizon is impossible to see, ocean and sky blending in a dark, stary abyss. Salt air brushes past them, carried up and over the cliff from the sea below. It is nearly perfectly quiet now, only the distant howl of a dog and rhythmic sound of the ocean lapping at the rocks below. Will pauses for a moment, Elizabeth following suite, staring at him, confused.

“Do you ever wish to leave?” he asks quietly, stepping towards the edge of the cliff where a small patch of grass overlooks the harbor.

“Often,” Elizabeth says, joining him in sitting down upon the dew-damp grass. He’s warm beside her, she notices, mind tripping over itself as she tries to find an answer, “I always wonder…. Do you?”

“Yes,” his dark eyes are fixed on the horizon and Elizabeth inhales quickly, suddenly feeling as if he is caught a thousand leagues away, drowning in some half-forgotten memory. Drowning on seawater and blood alike as he always does in her dreams, no matter how hard she tries to rescue him. Its futile she realizes when she wakes, the sea keeps her dead.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth turns back towards the horizon. In her chest, a hunger gnashes against her ribs, pressing harsher than ever for her to abandon this rock for something more. Something bloody, it whispers but Elizabeth drowns such utterances with ease. They are both aware that this question is just a fantasy. As soon as the light drifts over the horizon, they will return to the lives they are meant to lead, all thoughts of freedom pushed aside for reality. Alas, Elizabeth thinks snidely, neither of them can follow Don Quixote’s example.

“My father was a sailor,” Will says. Of course, she knows this already, but Elizabeth still nods, “my mother said that I was born with saltwater in my veins because of him. I think she secretly resented him for it as she never allowed me near the sea. No matter the instance, she would ensure that I never set foot in the water.”

Elizabeth stares at Will and his too kind eyes and open expression, perhaps his mother was right to protect him in such a way. The sea is too harsh and unforgiving for someone like him to survive.

“Once, my father sent a medallion to me, a present for my tenth birthday. He said it was from a pirate’s treasure,” Will face quirks up into fond smile and a brief wave of guilt washes over Elizabeth as she remembers said artefact now hiding in her dresser drawer.

“The moment she saw it, she made me swear on her grave to never let it touch a drop of saltwater. Whatever her reasoning, she was correct in being afraid.”

“Why?” Elizabeth voice is barely louder than a whisper. Will turns to face her, brow suddenly furrowed, smile slipping from his face.

“For the first time I broke my promise was on my passage from England. It was an accident, but it mattered not for the moment saltwater dropped onto its surface, our ship was besieged.”

Around them, the sea air whips past, harsher than before, tousling their hair. And Elizabeth can suddenly imagine Will, years older than now, perched at the helm of some ship, scarred by battles that have not yet come to pass, ocean rising to his command. He looks at home there, in the clutches of the sea once again. Brighter and more alive than she had ever seen him before.

“I believe I was supposed to die that day.” Will says then, breaking Elizabeth loose from whenever she had drifted to. She shakes her head, focusing on the present once more.

“I remember drowning, the water in my lungs and burning my eyes. Then I drifted into darkness, and nothing felt real anymore.” He pauses for a moment, absently fidgeting with his hands, an act Elizabeth knows he commits when he cannot find the correct words for what he wishes to say.

“I remember waking on a beach and I thought that I had surely just fallen unconscious and drifted ashore. When I began to walk inland, I found no one and the habitat only became stranger. The plants grew larger, trees soaring taller than I’d ever seen. The animals would pause to stare at me, never running even when I approached.”

Will huffs a laugh and a smile crawls onto Elizabeth’s face at the peculiar details of Will’s tale. “Perhaps you wound up on some crazed merchant’s island.”

“That is what I told myself as I walked back to the beach, wondering if I could find anyone else from the wreckage. When I returned, I realized that there was nothing on shore, no scrap of wood that I could have clung to. And then, as I reached the surf, I stared down and saw a thousand crabs crawling out of the foam.”

He ducks his head, “I startled back, into the waves, and when I rose once again, a woman was standing in front of me. She was young, with dark skin, and an accent that I had not heard before. She spoke my name and when I asked who she was, she laughed. She said she was the sea, giving me a choice. Said my soul was promised to her since I was born, but she could return me, reanimate me now, with the promise I would return when she demanded. And when I asked what she meant, she ignored me, distracted by the medallion hanging around my neck. She added it to her choices, oddly entranced by it, as payment for draining the water from my lungs. The tide started coming in then, too fast for it to be normal, swirling around us and dragging me further out. She said I had to choose.”

“And you chose to live?”

[sweetsapphicpeach]

She is perfect to me,

I want to lay her down and tell her it all, gentle not to overwhelm, but strong in my sincerity.

I'd like to kiss her forehead, tell her how smart she is, how much I admire her drive and intelligence and the care that she puts into everything.

I'd trail kisses down to her cheeks, appreciating her cute freckles and blush and warmth.

After getting lost kissing her pretty lips for a while, I would tell her how much I love her smile, how much I love the noises she makes and how her tongue feels on me, and how I adore it when she wears lipstick and it leaves marks all over me. It's also just hot, her lips are such a pretty shape ♡

Trailing down to her neck, I'd tell her how much I love marking it up, how it makes her look like mine <3 It's such a nice place to tuck away into when I'm overwhelmed too, very safe and comfortable.

Then I'd move onto her shoulders, which are GORGEOUS! Pretty freckles, such a lovely shape and so nice to hold, nice to kiss.

I'd leave a line of kisses all the way down her perfect arms, appreciating how secure I feel when they hold me.

Then I'll reach her hands. Gosh, her HANDS. They're so hot. I love when they're in me, when they're on me, when they hold and pet me kindly. I love how they're adorned with rings, how eye catching and personal that makes them. I would suck on her fingers too, being sure to worship her hands fully.

And her chest. It's perfect. It's so warm, I love laying my head against it, I love listening to her heartbeat and feeling so close and taken care of. I love playing with her breasts, both as a comforting closeness to help us both relax, and in a sexual setting. They're so hot, I love when they bounce as she rides me or when I have her on my fingers ♡♡♡ I still can't help but stare every time she takes her bra off, no matter how many times i get to see. She's perfect.

My hands and mouth would work down to her waist, drawing pretty sounds out when I bit down. It's so lovely to hold. She has a beautiful figure, I can't help but want to touch her all the time.

I'd move to kiss over her stomach. I'm a tummy girlie it's one if the most attractive body parts to me. Hers gets marked up so easily and so pretty, love seeing blooming signs of my love on her. She looks like such a goddess, I will never be over the fact that I get to look at and touch her.

I'd make my way down to her hips, though I'm sure my hands have already kept ending up here all night. Her hips are wonderful, perfect for me to hold ♡ I can't get enough.

I would kiss down to her thighs. Gosh! Her thighs!!!! Prefect!!! I love when I lay on them and she pets my hair, I love when they're wrapped around my head, I love when she let's me knead her like a kitten. They bruise so starkly and its such a cute reminder that she's mine. I love when she lets me get off against them, cooing encouragements. She's so hot.

Finally, finally, I would press a kiss to her dripping pussy. She's so pretty, she tastes so good. I love to feel her wetness on my fingers, love to feel the softness of her in my tongue. I would tell her how lovely she is, how much I love every single inch of her, and then I would busy my mouth with drinking her up and drawing out sweet sounds.

[videcoeur]

“ let’s go for a walk. staying here is the worst thing we can do, right? “ to our local birbman

The sour taste won't leave his mouth. Hawks can click his tongue to the roof of his mouth as much as he wants; it doesn't change anything. This awful flavor of disappointment was there to stay.

Looking at the villain's body on the ground, he heard the voice in the back of his mind- too fast, too strong, not careful enough. The way the man's body is bent is clear, even to the passerby that's standing at the furthest observation point. The one on the ground will not be able to walk, most likely ever again.

Hawks made another careless mistake, one of many that will likely be covered up. He did his job without killing, but without maiming is another story. Some would say that he did it diligently, and the villain got what he deserved, a broken spine, but Hawks isn't satisfied.

All of these years of training, and he couldn't avoid permanent injury? Bullshit. It was entirely his fault. Even with the blunt of a feather, he could have angled it differently. Okay, the man moved last second, and it threw him off, but it was HIS job to calculate those probabilities.

What kind of hero disabled people permanently? Lame, untrustworthy heroes, that's who.

And then, a small, delicate hand grabbed a hold of his arm, and Hawks's gaze had to tear away his eyes from the unconscious, mangled body on the floor. When his eyes settled upon her, his heartbeat picked up a faster pace, and a soft smile graced his lips, if only for a second before his dark thoughts returned.

She was warm, kind, and that man tried to mug her. It wasn't even the worst of crimes. There were plenty of muggers around. Those were generally dealt with by the police. But Hawks had seen him grab her wrist from his aerial standpoint, and he panicked. All he could think about was, What if he hurt her? What if he stabbed her just to get her purse? What if she died because he wasn't fast enough to save her?

And then, before he could think about anything else, the blunt edge of a feather was slamming way too strongly against the non-powered-up civilian, leaving him with what might turn out to be a lifelong disability.

Some would say Hawks needed a crash course in anger management- but it wasn't anger that moved him. It was something far more twisted, something that would make a hero like him seem utterly pathetic and vulnerable if it was revealed.

FEAR.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Do you want me to bring you back home? You must be tired after all this."

He was the tired one, and he knew he had work to do. On himself.

[spaceman-earthgirl]

Kara is steadfastly not looking at Lena as she greets her family, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t aware of Lena in the room, her heartbeat loud and fast, filling Kara’s ears.

She knows, once she sees Lena, there will be nothing to stop her crossing the room and sweeping her up in her embrace, holding her tight and vowing to never let her go again.

But her friends deserve a hello, and she wants it too.

J’onn’s arms are strong, making her feel safe and protected as he hugs her.

She’s surprised by the amount of emotion there is in Brainy’s voice when he speaks, and she hugs him close as their bodies collide.

Nia holds her so close, fingers curling into her suit to hold her as tight as possible as Kara holds her back, smiling into the hug, so happy to see her, to see them all.

And then there’s Lena.

The way Lena’s lip quivers, the way tears shine bright in Lena’s eyes, nearly breaks Kara’s heart when she finally turns to her.

She did that, she hurt Lena once again.

Lena steps forward, arms opening at the same time as Kara’s do and then their bodies are crashing together, Kara’s arms holding her as tight as she can without hurting her.

Kara breathes in, smells Lena’s perfume and shampoo mixed with something sweet that Kara’s never been able to identify, but it’s what one of Lena’s shirts had smelled like that she’d left at Kara’s apartment, one Kara had worn until it didn’t smell like her anymore.

She has to choke back a sob as emotions swell in her chest, a confusing tangle of fear and hope and love that has Kara pressing her face into Lena’s neck for a moment as she tries to center herself, get her emotions back in check.

“It’s only because you’re on the team that I’m here,” Kara manages to get out, something Alex had told her, something Alex had confessed after, tears in her eyes and a shake in Alex’s body when her sister had told her they could’ve gotten Kara back sooner, how Alex had chosen to save thousands of people but Lena fought to save her instead.

Fear and hope had collided in Kara’s chest then, too, because she’d made that choice with Mon-El, sent him away, to save Earth. Kara’s not sure she could’ve made that same decision if it had been Lena in his place, and that scares her.

Lena gasps at the words, and all Kara can do is hold her as she feels Lena’s arms tighten around her.

And then all too soon, Lena is pulling away but Kara can’t let go, not yet. Her hands slip over Lena’s biceps, down her forearms to grip her hands. She squeezes Lena’s hands, Lena smiling at the gesture, and something clicks in Kara’s chest.

Kara swallows, tilting forward before she even realises it, drawn to Lena, eyes caught on her smile.

Lena freezes, and it’s that motion, or lack of motion, that stops Kara, makes her realise what she’s doing, what she was about to do.

Her eyes flash up to Lena’s, confusion now swimming in wide green eyes as she remains frozen on the spot.

She was about to kiss her best friend, her very platonic best friend, and even if her feelings for said best friends certainly aren’t platonic, she still knows you’re not meant to kiss your best friend.

(You’re not meant to fall in love with them either but that’s another issue).

Kara glances to the right when movement draws her attention and now Kara feels frozen too as she spots Alex, glancing between them, an all to knowing look on her face.

That’s not good, because if Alex knows, knows what she’s thinking, knows what she was about to do, that means Lena might too, and that’s altogether another scary thought.

Her father stepping into the room breaks the moment, saves Kara from having to say or do anything and Kara feels relief course through her body, both because it means she doesn’t have to deal with this right now and because he’s actually here, alive, it wasn’t a dream. The relief loosens her limbs, lets her move once again as she crosses the room to hug him, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as she does.

She can feel two particular sets of eyes burning a hole in her back, like they’re the ones with heat vision, but Kara ignores them, hardly even pays attention to what is being said as she points to the balcony.

“I’m just going to…” she doesn’t even finish her sentence as she walks off. It’s dark out, so she doesn’t have the excuse of wanting to get some sun as she steps on to the balcony, but it gives her a moment to breathe.

She focuses on the sounds around her, the street below, cars honking, people laughing, the noise of the city filling her mind, leaving little room for anything else.

“Kara?”

Kara knew someone would follow her, but she jumps at the intrusion, so focused on the rest of National City the noise from the tower had gotten lost in it.

Alex steps in close, arm going through Kara’s as she leans into her sister’s side, head falling to rest on Kara’s shoulder.

Kara sighs, leans into Alex’s touch, knows her sister needs this contact just as much as she does.

They’re silent for a while, and Kara’s starting to wonder if Alex will actually say something when she finally speaks.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kara swallows. She knows exactly what Alex is talking about. “Talk about what?” she asks anyway.

“About how you nearly kissed Lena.”

Alex’s words are quiet, soft, like she knows how Kara will react, but that doesn’t stop Kara’s intake of breath and the sudden desire to just leap from the balcony.

Alex’s arm tightens around hers, like she knows exactly what Kara is thinking.

“Alex-“ Kara starts, the name half choked out, but Alex interrupts.

“I know,” Alex soothes, lifting her head so she can look at Kara. “I know.”

“Do you...do you think she noticed?” Kara asks. She’s not sure why she’s so scared when she wants nothing more than to pull Lena back into her arms and hold on forever. Maybe it’s because she’s hurt her so much already, or maybe it’s because she’s already lost her so many times and if she truly opens her heart to Lena and she loses her again, it will destroy her.

“She did,” Alex nods.

Kara presses her lips together and wills herself not to cry as she looks back over the city.

“Hey,” Alex says, hand against Kara’s cheek, bringing them face to face again. “She wants that too, okay? I was with her while you were gone, I saw how much she cares about you, I saw that she’d do anything to get you back. Trust me. You two have been through so much and you deserve to be happy. You don’t have to talk to her now, but you should when you’re ready. She’ll understand.”

“But-“

“I promise,” Alex says, her voice strong. Kara believes her. “She’ll wait as long as you need her to.”

Kara lets the words settle over her. The air is cold but she fights away the chill, focuses on the warmth of Alex’s body instead, focuses on her heartbeat to keep her grounded.

“I love her,” Kara whispers after a long moment. She glances back inside as she says it, heart getting caught in her throat when she sees Lena watching them. Lena quickly turns, feigns doing something on the computer, but the jump in her heart says she knows she’s been caught.

Alex doesn’t seem surprised by the admission. Kara wonders how long she’s known. 

“And she loves you too,” Alex says with a smile and a kiss to Kara’s temple.

Kara lets the words wash over her, something warm settling in her chest as her sister gives her arm one last squeeze and leaves.

Kara turns and watches her go, hears the anxious, “Is she okay?” Lena quietly asks Alex as she walks by.

“I think so,” Alex says and Kara’s not sure if that’s true as she shivers, the cold air filling her lungs and reminding her too much of the Phantom Zone that she breathes out, trying to focus on the sounds of the city again to push it all away.

She’s about to go back inside, see if she can’t get another platonic hug from Lena because that’s the warmest she’s felt since she returned, when a voice behind her startles her again.

“Mind if I join you?”

It’s hesitant, unsure, Lena twisting her fingers together as she says it.

“Please,” Kara says, sounding a touch too desperate as she nods to the space beside her.

Lena steps in close, but not quiet touching as they stand side by side, her hands falling to rest on the rail beside Kara’s.

“I missed you,” Lena says into the silence, quiet and honest.

“I missed you, too,” Kara replies, eyes darting sideways. Lena’s face is half shadowed in the dark, but achingly beautiful in the dim lights of the city.

She glances back out over the city, wonders if Lena will bring up what happened. Or what almost happened.

But she remains silent, and Kara realises that Lena is just going to let it go, let Kara do things in her own time, when she’s ready.

Kara shifts her hand closer to Lena’s on the railing, fingers brushing slightly. She almost stops there, almost pretends it’s an accident but the little sigh Lena lets out at the contact has Kara giving up any pretence as she threads her fingers through Lena’s.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” Lena swallows. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if-” She cuts herself off, the words getting caught in her throat, sounding close to tears again. Kara gives her hand a squeeze, and then realises that’s not enough so she turns, pulling Lena into a hug once more.

Lena sags against her, feels the shake of Lena’s body as Kara holds her.

“I’m here,” Kara promises, pressing a kiss to Lena’s hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” Lena asks, pulling away. She’s not crying but tears are shimmering in her eyes and she hates once again that she’s hurt Lena.

“I promise.”

They stay like that for a long moment, in each others space. Kara uses a great deal of self control not to glance down at red lips again.

It’s Lena that steps away first, again. Kara almost chases the contact but she stops herself this time.

“You didn’t get any of the cake before, and I heard a rumour that it’s your favourite.”

Kara’s eyes light up. “Is there any left?”

Lena laughs, eyes lighter than they have been all evening and something in Kara’s chest settles, feels almost normal, like it hasn’t in a long time.

“Duh, no one gets between Kara Danvers and food.”

Kara pokes out her tongue, which Lena responds to with a poke in her side and everything just feels right.

“Hey,” Kara says, catching Lena’s hand as she’s about to walk inside. Kara’s not sure if it’s because Lena looks so beautiful or if it’s because she wants no more secrets between them or she just doesn’t want to wait anymore but the words tumble from her lips with none of her previous fear. “I love you.”

Lena’s sharp intake of breath says she got Kara’s intended meaning.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Kara continues. “Not yet, or ever, but I want you to know.”

This time it’s Lena who’s leaning forward, crowding into Kara’s space. Kara doesn’t miss the way Lena’s eyes fall to her mouth, in a complete role reversal from before.

Kara is the one that crosses the final distance, tilts her head to capture Lena’s lips in her own.

Despite knowing it’s about to happen, Kara still gasps when their mouths meet, heat flooding through Kara as Lena’s fingers tangle in her hair, hold her close as their lips move together.

“I love you, too,” Lena says into the kiss, but the shock of the words are enough to make Kara pull away.

“You do?” Kara breathes, voice filled with awe.

Lena looks slightly dazed, her lip stick smudged and it makes it very hard not to kiss her again.

“I do. I have for a long time. Even when...” Lena trails off, Kara knowing exactly when Lena was referring to, something they still need to talk about.

“Me too,” Kara says, swallowing down the emotion building in her chest. She hadn’t realised, all this time, Lena had felt the same way.

She’s about to lean in, to kiss Lena again, because Lena’s lips are so soft and she wants to show Lena exactly how she feels about, but voices inside pull her attention away.

“Are you thinking about cake?” Lena asks, misinterpreting her distraction.

“No,” Kara smiles. “Nia is excitedly telling Alex that we just kissed.”

“Oh,” Lena says, cheeks going red. Kara’s not sure if it’s the word ‘kiss’ or the fact that they’ve been caught that causes it though. Lena swallows. “Do you want to go and get some cake?” Lena asks as she glances inside, sees they’re being watched, but she makes no move to pull away this time.

Kara shakes her head. “No.”

“Are you okay?” Lena asks, jokingly bringing a hand to her forehead as her attention returns to Kara. “I’ve never heard of Supergirl passing up cake before.”

Kara rolls her eyes with a shrug. “Some things are better than cake.”

“Oh really?” Lena asks, a smile playing on her lips.

Kara winds her arms around Lena’s neck, tilts forward, her lips brushing Lena’s when she speaks. “Really.”

A call from Alex pulls them apart not long later and Kara turns to see her sister’s nose scrunched up in disgust as she looks at them, but she can also tell Alex is trying not to smile.

“Are we allowed to eat this cake yet? I’m starving.”

Kara smiles as she reaches down to thread her fingers through Lena’s hand, tugs her towards the door.

There are knowing, and very amused, looks when they return inside, but they all look happy.

Kara’s happy too, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel again.

It’s her father’s comment that makes her laugh again as they’re all eating cake, Kara managing with just one hand because she’s not ready to let Lena go yet.

“Is Lena not your wife?”

Kara presses her face into Lena’s shoulder, cheeks red when Alex’s response is, “not yet.”

Can also be found on ao3

[neoculturetravesty]

Rough but soft

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Johnny x Reader Genre: smut, pwp, romance, angst Warnings: 18+, soft dom Johnny, oral (female receiving), protected sex, rough sex, fingering, anus rubbing (female receiving), mild choking, hickeys, lots and lots of angst. Reader wants Johnny to have at her but she also wants so much more. Readers comes with lots of self-doubt, baggage and insecurities. Word Count: 8.2k+ words of straight up filth and angst aka my fav combo

Summary: You’re so tired of trying to find a man who would understand the deep complexities of what you need, sleeping with him, being utterly unsatisfied and then spending the next few weeks avoiding him because you were too ashamed. You were tired of baring your soul, your body, the inner workings of your mind to yet another man who couldn’t satisfy you. So when you meet Johnny Suh, you know right away that he would be the man that makes all your wet dreams come true. But you shouldn’t want him. He’s an idol, and you work for him. You have no right to want him, to lust after him... and you definitely have no right to catch feelings for him.

A/N: This one is for all my Johnny stans! I didn’t plan for this one-shot to get so long but ugh, once I started writing, all my demons were unleashed. Hope you like it! 

You could’ve sworn your apartment was the hottest it had ever been. You didn’t remember messing with the thermostat or closing any windows. You weren’t exactly dressed warmly, either. You were just in your underwear with a pretty spaghetti sleeved top on. Perhaps the heat had more to do with the fact that you were sat on the lap of a man you really liked or the fact that the two of you had been furiously making out for the past ten minutes. 

Johnny’s hands were all over you. They were in your hair, pulling you towards him, angling your head every which way to get more purchase with his tongue. Then his hands were on the small of your back pushing up into your top to feel your bare skin. And when his hands had enough of the skin there, they were up and down the curve of your legs that were curled up into him as you sat side saddle. While your pants laid discarded on the floor, his clothes were still fully on but you supposed there was some use for that by how strongly you were clutching onto the lapel of his jacket. 

Your brain was so fuzzy with the scent of him that you couldn’t even remember what had brought this on. The last thing you remembered was Johnny showing up at your door unannounced, a couple of bottles of soju in hand. Your past few meets had been similarly unplanned, so for convenience’s sake and definitely not anything else, you just went ahead and gave him the code of your apartment. Yes, it was way too early on in the relationship--if you could even call it that, whatever the two of you were doing. You could sense that he was taken aback by it. Whether he was moved by it, or whether to be polite, he had pulled you into him and kissed you.

Now the soju laid abandoned on the table as you drank one another in. He kissed you deeply now, as you sat on him on the couch, like he had been thirsty for days and your tongue quenched him. He was taking the lead in this unrestrained makeout session. But you knew that. He knew that. It’s what you had wanted. It’s what you had asked of him.

You were really putting yourself out there, sharing your deepest secrets and unholy desires with a man you weren’t supposed to be with. But the moment you had met Johnny, you could tell that he felt your energy and you certainly felt his. You knew right away what the both of you had wanted from one another, even if you didn’t say it. You knew it in the way he would entrap you with his gaze when you talked to him. You knew it in the way his arm would pull you in when someone passed by you. You knew it in the way he would let his touch linger any time his hands accidentally brushed against you. It had taken a few dates for you to get to this point, but now this… this was the point of no return. You had to be brave and finally get what you had always craved; or chicken out and go back to being unsatisfied as ever from yet another relationship.

Other men did not give you what you wanted, what you truly wanted; which was to feel a controlled loss of control, not just of the body but also of the mind. You wanted someone who could, quite crassly, hold you down and have at you, but also whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he did so. You wanted a cerebral connection of the souls and you wanted an animalistic gratification of the bodies at the same time. You wanted to have your cake and eat it too. You were so tired of the cycle--of trying to find a man you thought would understand the deep complexities of what you needed, sleeping with him, being utterly unsatisfied and then spending the next few weeks avoiding him because you were too ashamed. You were tired of baring your soul, your body, the inner workings of your mind to yet another man who couldn’t satisfy you. 

When you first met Johnny, you knew right away that this man had what it takes to make all your wet dreams come true. Like his presence validated all that you felt without having to use the words. You felt it in your gut, even when you hadn’t been with him. Your gut could very well have been wrong, because God knows you’ve been wrong so many times before. But your feeling was strong this time... and you just had to find out. So you had approached him.

You knew you were being reckless by being with Johnny in this way. He was, obviously, a famous person, but also--you worked for him. You were a young professional who had finally landed a job in a big company. If someone were to find out, that would mean the end of your career. Johnny could possibly get away with an apology letter that his team would help him curate. But you would be done for. You knew it was risky the first time you slept with him. You knew it the second time. But now as you met for the third time, hungrily kissing one another, you knew things were different. Because, finally, the two of you had been honest about how you wanted one another.

Over the past couple of weeks, you had finally started to communicate in words what the two of you had already felt in one another’s energy. He admitted that he craved you in a much coarser way than he had let on the first couple of times. And you had told him about all your indecent fantasies and how wilfully you wanted to be used, to be claimed, to be made to feel something. 

“It’s always the quiet ones.” Johnny had chuckled back then and you supposed he was right. That’s how people saw you. The quiet one, the determined one, the one that gets her work done on time, the one that never breaks the rules. Onlooking men thought you were some sort of a righteous Virgin Mary because of the innocence on your face. Part of you wondered if being with Johnny was a rebellion against all those men who had ever put you on that unwarranted pedestal. But you also knew that it wasn’t. Because you didn’t just want a body to unleash your lecherous demons on. You wanted it with him, with Johnny, with the man who was slowly lighting your fire, no matter how much you told yourself that it was a bad idea.

That man in question was now softly panting in your face, because his lips had finally unlatched themselves from yours for the first time in 10 minutes. He smiles at you and then buries himself in the junction between your shoulder and neck, kissing and sucking and talking.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I couldn’t get any work done because I kept thinking about you.” He says into your neck, sucking down on the skin and you knew he was marking you because it makes you moan out. There is a smile on his face as he pulls back to look at you. He takes your hand in his and leads it to the inside of his thigh, making you feel his hardness through the rough fabric of his pants.

“You feel that? I’ve been like this all day thinking about you.” he says while you look at him with your lips parted. He kisses you again, making you lean back, feeling his heat build under you. 

“I want you to feel the same. I want to make you feel exactly what you do to me.” He says and now his warm hand is slipping into the front of your underwear and you feel the quickening of your heartbeat. You begin softly moaning before he’s even done anything, simply from the anticipation. But then his fingers are flush against your warmth, rubbing up and down, no purpose yet, just feeling.

He’s close to you, too close, you can feel the heat coming off his face on your own skin, you can feel his breath fanning against you. His lips are close enough that they brush against yours as he coos at you “My pretty girl is so wet for me.” The heel of his palm is steady on your clit, pressing down but not giving you as much friction as you need, while his fingers move over and between your folds, feeling your warmth, your wetness, spreading it around as if to see how slick he can make it. His lips have found their way to the base of your throat now and he’s kissing, he’s nipping and he’s sucking and fuck your life because it is turning you on so much you feel like you would spontaneously combust. You’re melting against him at the same time you’re tensing and Johnny can feel your want grow on his fingers. He pulls back to see his work on your skin.

“Mmm, are you going to spend the next week hiding this away, baby?” He asks while his palm keeps cupping your sex, fingers feeling you up, overheating your flesh. It’s rude, the way his hand is down your underwear, the way he is marking you, the way he is talking to you. But your skin is on fire and you’re putty in his arms and fuck, you wouldn’t mind if he were ruder.

“Let me mark you where it would be easier to hide.” He says sweetly and suddenly, his hand that was cradling the small of your back is at the delicate strap of your top and his fingers are looping at your neckline, gently pulling down till he’s made your breast bare and he’s bowing into it, sucking on the first spot of skin his lips could find. Your own lips part and your fingers find his hair as he makes quick work of you, pulling away with a wet, vulgar sound, smiling down at the growing redness on your smooth skin. He blows on it, making you shiver.

“There. Fuck, baby, you look so pretty wearing my marks.” he sighs and then fixes your top over your shoulder so you’re covered again, and somehow, that chivalrous act makes you more bashful than being exposed did. His lips are back on yours and his arm is behind your neck, supporting you. His fingers in your underwear are becoming bolder, circling your needy hole, loving how the more he rubs it, the more you leak out your need onto him. He enjoys having that control over you for a moment, breaking the kiss just so he can watch the contorts of your face as he continues his slow torture. But seeing you like this stirs something more feral in him and suddenly his hand goes lower and starts to rub you where it feels forbidden. You freeze. 

For a moment, your breath hitches in your throat and your eyes shoot open. Fuck, you can’t think. This man has actually put you on your wit’s end. He’s rubbing you there like he knew how you’d react and he just wanted to have this power over you. A display of his claim over your body. You suddenly feel impossibly shy, though the emotion is too mild to truly describe the storm that’s building in you. Your mind is racing, wondering fuck, fuck fuck, do you want this? Do you really want this? Was this something you had talked about with him? Fuck, you can’t remember. But if you’re not sure, why the fuck is it making you so fucking wet?

His lips pressing into your forehead bring you out of your commotion. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to.” he says gently, like he read your mind and Jesus Christ, you almost come from the striking contrast between his soft words, his nurturing kiss and the absolutely filthy action of his fingers on your pucker, rubbing not to pleasure but to feel, to claim, almost as if to say ‘Look, I can touch you here.’

“Johnny, please, do something.” you plead at him because frankly, you’ve had enough. Now you just want him to rip away at your remaining clothes and have at it, to have you, to fuck you like he was too polite to do the first couple of times.

But one thing you’ve learnt in the time you’ve been working together (and also the time you’ve spent under him between the sheets) is that Johnny is a patient man. He’s smiling when he looks at you and his voice is so caring in contrast to his presence when he says “Does my baby want more?”

“Yes, please, Johnny, please.” you’re pulling onto his jacket because your hands can’t find purchase anywhere else and you’re whining because you’re needy and the anticipation has been building up for a couple of weeks and you’ve had enough. You want him and you want him now.

Thankfully, he doesn’t tease you any longer because he withdraws his hand from your underwear, hooks his arm under your knees whilst the other cradles your shoulders and he’s lifting you off bridal style and making his way to your room. It blows your mind how Johnny can be filthy and romantic at the same time. He sets you down politely and you prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he takes off his jacket. You’d be lying if you said that Johnny simply taking his jacket off wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You had yourself a fine man in front of you and he had made it tonight’s mission to please you. Your eyes were hooded as you looked at him lustfully. He notices and sinks to his knees, pulling your legs till you were on the edge of the bed.

“My girl’s been waiting for this, hasn’t she?” he says and peppers kisses on the inside of your thigh before he loops his fingers around the band of your underwear and slowly slides it down your legs. He looks at you lying bare for him, basically nude and he inhales. “What a pretty sight.” he mutters and then his lips finally go straight for your clit, his tongue rolling over it and over it, his hands holding your legs apart and you let out a deep exhale because yes, yes, yes, this is what you wanted. He’s wasted no time because you told him you needed more and he was all too happy to oblige. So you lay back into the sheets, taking deep breaths, being fascinated by the rise and fall of your own chest. Johnny had learnt early on that you were the quiet type in bed, but tonight, he was determined to make you moan more than you had before. 

You let your head fall back and your eyes close as you feel his warm tongue roll generously over your nub, his mouth servicing you till your hips are grinding against him. The need builds and now you want an erotic visual to help you along so you lift up and tug on his shirt and he understands because he straightens up and pulls it off of him. You see the beautiful caramel planes of his toned chest; your mouth waters. He’s hovering over you now, kissing you with lips that are still covered in your scent till you’re crawling back into the bed. He adjusts your head onto the pillows, making sure you’re comfortable which tells you that he’s not nearly done. 

He puts another pillow under your hips and settles between your legs once more. He holds your gaze as he lowers himself and slowly spits down onto your clit. He looks at you, as if challenging you to stop him and uses the pad of his thumb to rub the slobber around. The sight is as vulgar as it is titillating and suddenly you find yourself thanking the heavens above that you found Johnny Suh. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks with a voice like honey and you look down at him.

“Yes. More, Johnny, please, I want more.” you tell him because fuck, you need it bad, and he nods. He brings his hand to your opening then and gently rubs till he is covered in your slick, then carefully eases his middle finger into you. You’re impossibly wet and he likes it. He wants you to be this turned on. 

He starts to move his finger, slowly fucking you with it then brings his mouth hot on your clit, licking deep, luxuriously strokes onto it. “Is this better, baby?” he asks but you reply with a pent out moan, your hands instinctively going to clutch your breasts, squeezing them through your top that isn’t doing a very good job at covering you. 

Johnny watches and he is pleased with himself. Pleased that he is making you this way, that you’re getting what you want from him. You both shared in your greed of a very similar sexual palette. Lately, you had been open to him about it and Johnny was so grateful to have met you. It turned him on to be with a woman who was so in tune with her needs. It turned him on more to know that he was the one fulfilling them. 

“More, Johnny, please… faster…” you guide him and he hurries to add another finger inside you and suddenly you’re smiling wide because it feels so fucking good. Your hands go to his hair, tugging on it, pressing his head into you even more and you’re grinding up into his face like a harlot, because frankly speaking, you don’t remember being this fucking horny in a good while. You can’t bring yourself to be self-conscious in this moment because it feels so good, so decadent, so freeing, and you can’t tell if you’re being louder than usual.

Johnny can. Because he’s not stopping and now he’s moaning into your slick warmth and his entire mouth is sweet with your taste and he knows you’re close so he only lifts up briefly to say “Come for me, baby.” and you’re pulling his hair, biting your lip, digging one heel so far into the mattress your leg is numb and you’re coming apart on his fingers. Johnny doesn’t stop through it, prolonging your orgasm while your entire body tenses, then comes to life before you let out a deep, happy exhale and Johnny finally lets go, rubbing the insides of your thighs to calm you. 

You grin at him and sit up to kiss him, your fingers splayed behind his neck, kissing him in gratitude for making you feel good, tasting your nectar on his lips, then rubbing your palms on his firm chest. You look down towards what could only be his growing need and your fingers fumble to undo his fly. You begin to get on your hands and knees but he stops you.

“Johnny, let me--” you begin wanting to reciprocate the favor, looking up at him but his expression makes your voice get caught in your throat. His eyes are hooded, dark, lustful.

“No. I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you, right here in your pussy.” he said shortly, and you think you might die. How could those curt, pornographic words turn you on so much? It’s not like you hadn’t heard them before from several other men. Perhaps it was the fact that this particular man had only ever spoken to you with polite respect before. To hear such filthy words from his handsome mouth was an experience you were never going to forget. You wanted him with all the heat that was building up between your legs. But, also... there was something else that you wouldn’t allow yourself to think. That you wanted him because perhaps, you were falling for him, no matter how much you tried to stop yourself.

Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He finds a condom and holds the foil between his teeth while he gets off the bed to rid himself of his pants. Suddenly, and without any sort of a warning, your heart begins to sink. 

You don’t know what it is, but while you sit there watching Johnny strip himself, you feel something deep in the pit of your stomach. You don’t recognize this emotion… this sinking feeling. Is it despair? It can’t be, but it comes close. Is it fright? No, that definitely wasn’t it. You try to think back to all the times you’ve had this feeling in your belly and finally, you identify it. This feeling felt a lot like heartbreak.

You couldn’t understand what was going on inside your head. It was as if behind your crazed sexual want for Johnny in your conscious, your subconscious was fighting you with another, more pressing craving. Like watching him pull out that condom had confirmed some sort of a fear, but you simply couldn’t put your finger on which one it was.

You’re confused. All this man did was extract a condom from his wallet. Why did that break your heart? Shouldn’t you be happy that for once in your sexual escapades, a man had been the one to be prepared? Shouldn’t you be relieved that the man you were sleeping with was putting your safety first? Then what was this strange feeling in the pit of your stomach? You’re still pondering it over whilst Johnny rolls the culpable rubber onto himself and makes his way to you. And when his lips are on yours again, you finally work it out. Your traitor mind had had a thought that broke through the giddiness of your happy orgasm and put a stinging doubt in your heart: ‘He brought a condom because he only came here for sex.’ 

Johnny notices a change in your demeanor by the way your kiss is less present. He pulls back and strokes the top of your head. “Are you sure you still want it that way, baby? We can go easy if you’ve changed your mind.” He kisses you again as if to tell you that he means it.

“I don’t want you to go easy. I want you to show me how far you can take it.” you say resoundingly. You’re not sure why you’ve said this despite the tempest in your mind. Maybe your fucking libido is betraying you again. 

He looks at you for a moment as if trying to read your face, then kisses your lips once more. “Okay, baby. But remember, you can tell me to stop any time, okay?” he assures you and you’re reminded that he really has the patience of a saint. Because his cock is thick and angry with want yet he’s still taking the time to communicate the logistics of what you’re about to do. 

“I will.” you nod. “Johnny, please… just… just fuck me, please.” You beg because you’ve decided… this is what you want. You want it this way at least once, because you won’t be able to stand not knowing. If your heart breaks at the end of this, so be it. You were used to it. And if this would be the last you would see of Johnny, you wanted to make it count.

He doesn’t need telling twice because now that you’re begging, his mind is clouded with the need to own you. So he pushes your legs back into your chest, laying you bare and open for him. You feel vulnerable in this position, too vulnerable, especially with what your mind is doing to you. Usually, it would take you some time to build up to this stance but he wants to start here, where he’s in control and that’s the shit you signed up for. Your breath is quickening in your chest from nervous anticipation and you cry out when Johnny makes his first, unforgiving stroke straight into your core. 

Your eyes close and you’re not sure if you moaned out from pain, pleasure, frustration, emotion, or everything rolled into one. Johnny stills, bracing himself on the backs of your thighs. His own eyes are closed as well and you’re both getting used to the sensation, the fullness, the tightness. He exhales, and brings his lips to your forehead and then to your lips and then he stays there.

His left hand keeps holding onto your leg but his right hand creeps up your body till it softly closes around your throat. You feel the effect of this simple action in your core and in the way it squeezes around him, making him hiss.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay baby?” he says to prepare you and you nod and suddenly he’s slamming into you and it’s pulled such an infernal keen out of you that you’re sure this is it. This is what you’ve always wanted, this is the feeling you’ve been chasing all your life. Your head had rolled to its side, your cheek pressing into the pillow to absorb the intensity you feel while Johnny is hovering over you, hand braced around your neck, pumping into you right from the start.

Your body is jolting up in time with his thrusts, your breasts lewdly moving under your top. Johnny is looking down at you in wonder, timing his movements to his grunts and watching your face through all the emotions. It’s too much too soon and your hands are flying meaninglessly to grip at something, something that would anchor you because fuck, Johnny has set a pace that you can’t possibly match right from the start. You try to grip at the sheets, or the pillow under your hips but you finally settle on Johnny’s arms. You’re pulling at him as if you want this to end, as if you’re telling him to stop but you don’t want him to stop. You never want him to stop.

“Is this what you wanted, babygirl? Is this how you wanted to be fucked?” Johnny asks as he keeps slamming into you. Why the fuck did it hurt so good? You usually liked there to be a build up, to have it start low and slow and build to it’s crescendo. So how come you were allowing this man to use your body like this and how come you never wanted this moment to end?

“Yes, yes, yes, Johnny, please… don’t stop, don’t stop…” the sound of your own voice shocks you, almost like you’re having an out of body experience and you’re actually dismayed by how manic you sound. Your voice is thick with lust, it is breathless, your pussy is the wettest it has ever been because you can feel your own slick running down your cleft. You can feel Johnny stirring places inside you you weren’t sure existed. His own moans have picked up and his hand around your throat has tightened, as if he were truly using it to anchor himself.

“Can I go faster, baby?” He asks with a strained voice and you take no time in answering “Yesss!” even though your eyebrows knit together from how much this is already.

His eyes close and he bares his teeth, almost like he was in pain and was trying to absorb it and then he lays over you, his head is by your shoulder while his hand never leaves your neck and suddenly, he’s moaning out, going faster, fucking you into the mattress.

The carnal sounds of your skins slapping and Johnny’s deep moans probably mask the fact that you’re crying out. Your hands are around Johnny’s wide back, your head is pressing into his shoulder, you’re clinging onto him with everything you have… you’re almost hanging onto him while he fucks you down, going so fast you feel lightheaded.

“Johnny please, I need to come.” you whimper and you’re not sure if you’re sobbing or not.

“No, no, baby, just let me go a bit longer.” he whines into your neck like he was in heaven and never wanted to leave. So you take deep breaths, you try to lay back and let Johnny have at it, give him what he needs because he was giving you what you needed. But his moans are hot in your neck, his weight is luxurious over your body, his length is so good inside you that you can’t really hold out any longer, no matter how much you’re trying to let him have his time.

“Johnny, please, I need to come or I will die.” you all but growl at him. You’ve never heard your voice sound like that but you can’t bring yourself to care.

He pulls back and then brings one hand to the top of your head, cradling it, stroking it. “Look at me, baby.”

You try, you really try but he’s giving you so much pleasure, it feels almost sinful to take it with eyes wide open but his hand on your neck has come up to grab at your jaw, holding your chin.

“No, no, no, baby, don’t hide from me. Look at me. I’m not going to let you come if you don’t look at me.” he says and now he’s using his words to own you, too, not just his body and this doesn’t help the matter. You get so fucking turned on that you want your release now and you realize that the only way you’re going to get it is if you obey. That thought alone is as profane as it is freeing.

So you look at him, and you’re worried about how wanton you look, how disheveled you look, how disoriented you look. But he’s holding your head prisoner, grabbing your chin, cradling the crown of your head, looking down at you so tenderly while he fucks into you.

He pecks your lips romantically and says “Come for me now, pretty girl.” and you finally meet your sweet, sweet relief. You’re whining, you’re panting, you’re frowning, every single muscle in your body is tensing against him, but you dare not look away. You don’t even realize how deep your fingertips are digging into both his biceps while you come on his cock and he moves in you through it all, holding your gaze. 

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you...” he keeps assuring you, stroking your head while you shake and quiver under him.

It’s the first time you’ve done this, looked at your partner through your orgasm, being made to keep your eyes open just to connect with him in a moment of complete and utter vulnerability. It is godless. It is liberating. It is the most erotic thing you’ve ever done.

You didn’t realize you were straining your neck till your head falls back into the pillows and you feel the tension subside. You feel spent and you thank the heavens above that Johnny has stilled in you. In your euphoria, you didn’t register whether Johnny got to finish or not. He’s kissing you in a way that is--dare you say it? So loving. You push that thought away to let your mind ponder over something else: damn, Johnny Suh is a talented man. He’s smiling when he looks at you and kisses you deep.

“You look so beautiful when you come for me like that.” He strokes the side of your face sweetly and then his hands are tugging your top off of you, making you completely exposed to him. The hickey he gave you earlier is blooming now and he hums deeply in his chest as he sees it. 

“You need a matching one here.” he says and begins to mark you on the other side, but it doesn’t extract quite the same reaction from you as the first one had done because you’re too spent. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind because he’s letting you lay back as he kneads at your breasts, tongue circling over your peaks. You lazily run your fingers in his hair. He comes up and kisses the side of your face.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks kindly and you nod, pulling his head into a slow kiss as your answer. 

“Mmm, okay, good. Because I’m not done with you yet.” he says in between kisses and that’s when you realize he’s still hard. So he hadn’t, in fact, finished. 

He brings his fingers to your clit and circles gently but you jump away from his touch, grabbing at his wrist. “No, I don’t think I can take that anymore.” you tell him desperately and he takes mercy on you. 

“Then flip over for me.” He pulls out of you carefully and it’s then that you realize how swollen you are. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you know it. When you take too long, he grabs at your waist, turning you on your belly and swats at your ass. You gasp, more at the sound of the impact than the impact itself and then your motivation is back. You want to please your man. You want him to come for you. 

Johnny takes a pillow and places it vertically and lays you on top of it, giving you something to hold onto. It feels soft and comfortable. He’s been chivalrous so far. He’s been taking care of you and so he feels like he’s earned his keep. He can have you any way he wants. So he spreads your cheeks with both hands and licks at your hole a few times, just to make sure you’re still wet enough for what he’s about to do. He takes his hardness in his hands and lays himself on top of you carefully, not with his entire weight, though… he’s still supporting himself on his free arm that’s on your side. He rubs his tip against you a few times and you gasp with how swollen and sensitive you feel.

“Ready, baby?” he says in your ear and you can hear him so much more intimately in this position. He listens for your approval and then he pushes into you so fast, it has you yelping, it has your chest lifting off the pillow you’ve been hugging, it has you panicking, saying

“Johnny, wait, wait, wait, wait, please…” your sentence ends in more gasping sounds of discomfort. Johnny snakes an arm under you, holding onto your shoulders and his lips are on your temple, kissing over and over.

“Shh… baby… shhh, it’s me, it’s only me…” he reassures you and you know in your heart he’s never going to hurt you, but you simply couldn’t have held back your visceral reaction. He feels it, feels the anxiety in your body because he’s easing your head into the crook of his elbow and his lips are kissing at your temple and your shoulder so tenderly, you feel like you’re going to cry. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” he tells you softly. He cradles you with his arm that’s around your shoulders and snakes his other arm under you, his hand splaying out over your abdomen. He pulls you up into him, kissing your skin repeatedly to communicate care and then he starts moving into you, slow.

You whimper, but there is no pain now, only pleasure. You’re biting your lip because somehow it still feels intense, even at this pace. Rough or soft, this man was making you feel things you had only ever fantasized about. ‘Is it always going to be like this?’ you wonder, but you stop yourself. You didn’t have the luxury to have such thoughts because there wasn’t going to be another time. The thought has tears stinging in your eyes and you hide your face in Johnny’s forearm that’s encasing your chest. 

Thankfully, it works because Johnny is cooing in your ear again “Does it feel good now, baby?” and it does, fuck, it does, but you don’t want him to be this nice if it’s going to make you have such treacherous thoughts. So you say,

“Faster. I want it hard.”

Johnny turns your head with his hand so he can look at you when he asks “Are you sure, baby?” 

You nod and while he’s not totally convinced, it’s what you’ve asked. It’s what you’d been asking the past couple of weeks. So he has to oblige. He strengthens his cradling arms and pulls you into him tighter as if to buckle you up and then he lifts his hips and starts moving into you faster and you hear the slapping of his skin on yours once again. 

His forearm moves higher from the planes of your chest to your neck and suddenly, he’s holding you in a headlock, and even if he’s not applying any pressure, it’s enough to make you moan. His breaths are more labored now and so he talks.

“Fuck, Y/N… I think about you all the time. All I ever do is think about you. Did you know that?” he groans right in your ear and your heart swells. You feel hopeful again, like you were before he had pulled the condom out. Your moan comes out in a broken laugh, like a sound of relief but you’re pleading at him again.

“Faster, please, please…” you beg and he wants to give you everything so he lays his entire weight on top of you and really pins you down. It takes a lot of effort, but he wants to please you and soon he manages to build a rhythm that’s so impossibly fast that you feel nothing but him, hear nothing but him, think nothing but him. You don’t realize that you’re chanting his name over and over, you don’t realize that you’re pulling onto his forearm around your neck as tight as you can, you don’t realize that you’re writhing so much under him that you’ve exploded on him, you don’t realize that you’re not falling for this man. You had pretty much already fallen for him.

“Ahh… Y/N…” he gasps and he’s said something else as well, but the ringing in your ears made it difficult to hear it.

You feel the absence of him when he pulls out of you abruptly and he’s sitting up, urgently stroking himself, groaning as he finally finds his own release. 

A moment of stillness hangs in the air. Like the calm after a hurricane. The telling sounds of your impieties have ended, leaving only your breaths in their wake.

Johnny leans over you, combing your hair away from your face as if to check on you as you lay on your stomach unmoving. He kisses your cheek, then strokes the spot tenderly with the backs of his fingers. Your eyes close because you don’t know what’s going to happen now. Johnny moves away, sitting on the edge of the bed to discard the condom and you sneak a peek at him. You watch the muscles in his broad back protrude and you miss him already. He lifts off and walks away for a moment and your heart yearns for him. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to him next to you. You close your eyes again because his words from earlier are still ringing in your ears ‘I think about you all the time.’ They sounded so sincere, though men would say whatever you needed to hear during sex. But they came from him, and he’s never made an empty promise.

You feel the warm wetness of a washcloth being carefully dabbed on your skin, between your legs, over your sex and suddenly your heart is so full. He’s softly turning you around and easing you into a shirt he probably found in your closet. How could you not fall for such a man?

“Come here.” his voice says and you open your eyes to see that he’s laid down again, wearing only his boxers and he’s pulling you into his chest. You lay your head over his heart and listen to it thrum in his chest. This moment is surreal and you can’t help but feel like this is where you belong, and that feeling is solidified when you feel his arms wrap around you, his lips on the crown of your head. You’d never had afterglow feel this sweet, perhaps because you’d never had sex that felt this good. This is what you had wanted all your life. This feeling right here. No one had understood your needs better than this man. Johnny knew perfectly how to take you rough but soft. To make it coarse but sweet. To make you feel used but safe. To make you feel docile yet liberated. And he had told you that he thought about you all the time. You feel a smile grow on your lips as they pressed against his chest. This moment felt absolutely perfect.

“I have to get back to the dorms.”

And there it was. 

You turn your head to the sound of his voice and he slowly sits up. “I’ve got an early morning schedule tomorrow and I don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t come in with the guys.” He says as he gets off the bed and starts dressing himself. You nod because, well. What did you expect? You stand up as well, picking up your discarded underwear and sliding it on, keeping your back to him because you couldn’t stand to see his face.

“I’m going to see you there, anyway, right?” He asks and you try to keep your face as devoid of emotion as possible.

“Right.” You reply because you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. You feel like your chest has been hollowed, like someone has sucker punched you in the belly. You had promised yourself you wouldn’t hope. You had told yourself that you just wanted to see if Johnny could give you what you liked in bed. That was all. He hadn’t promised you anything else. He wasn’t obligated to stay. And what he was saying made sense. You both had the same appointment tomorrow, both for different reasons, but you both had to be at the same place at the same time. You knew everything in this situation was logical. So why was your heart shattering in your chest? 

He’s dressed now and he’s looking for his phone, his keys and his wallet outside in the living room. You follow him slowly, wrapping your arms protectively over the shirt he put on you. He gets everything he needs and heads for the door and you walk him out only because it feels like the right thing to do. He turns to look at you at the door and you look at him. Words remain unspoken. You’re not sure what he reads on your face because he looks like he was going to say something but he changed his mind. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says and he’s polite enough to smile. He turns on his heel, and is out the door that closes with a finalizing shut. And just like that, he’s gone.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, looking at the broad expanse of wood he’s just disappeared behind. You’re not sure why your shoulders are shaking or why your breath keeps choking your throat. You turn around because what’s the point? You’ve done this before. This has happened to you before. Why should this time be different from any of the other times?

You don’t know how you make it back to your room because your legs are so weak and your vision is so blurred. You really thought it was going to be different this time. That he was going to be different. But once again, your heart has been broken. He had used you good, left his marks on you so you would see him, feel him for days, and just like that, he had left. 

Why did no one ever stay? What was it about you that made men look at you like a pump and dump? Why did you bare your mind, your soul, your body in front of yet another man when you knew what was going to happen? Why did you never learn? Why did you keep hoping that things would be different? Why did you give yourself so easily when no one ever wanted you? Why were you so unwanted? 

You’re pretty sure you’re sobbing because your hand is instinctively clutching onto your heart. The heart that had already been broken too many times, but this time, the injury felt much, much worse because you were in love. You were in love with Johnny. You knew that now. You know you were foolish to have fallen for a man you weren’t allowed to want. You had known it all along. You had never meant for things to go this far. No, you had hoped that things would go this far. Hoping was, in fact, the biggest sin you had committed in this strange tragedy. And you had paid the price for it. He didn’t want you, he could never want you. Why would a man like him want you? What were you to him? You were just another willing girl that threw herself at him. The man had been happy to sleep with you like normal people did, but no. You asked him, practically begged him to take you like a back alley whore. So of course, he was going to fuck you into oblivion and when the blood wasn’t rushing to his cock, he would realize how fucking deplorable you were as a woman for allowing this to happen to your body. Of course he couldn’t want you. You were unwantable. Suddenly, you can’t hold yourself up anymore… it was too much, it was all too much. It hurt so bad. You didn’t expect it to hurt so much that your legs couldn’t hold you up and you were sinking to your knees.

Strong hands grabbing at your shoulders, turning your around. 

You look up, tears blurring your vision, your breath hitching faster than your heartbeat, like you’re hyperventilating. You’re still clutching onto your chest like you’re trying to hold yourself together but failing. And he’s the one holding you, the one who caught you before you could fall to your knees. It’s him. He’s here, right in front of you. He’s looking back at you, with eyes intense, nostrils flared. And you’re looking back at him, unable to hide the outpour that he had left when he walked out that door. And you remember--he had your code.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?!” he asks urgently, holding onto your shoulders tight.

“I didn’t know I could.” you reply truthfully, your voice shaking and it makes you cry more and you can’t fake it anymore. This is what you feel and he’s seen it now. There was no point in hiding it.

“Y/N…” he takes your face in his hands strongly and kisses your tears. “Y/N, can’t you see? Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?” he says at you with such a burning intensity that it puts a halt to your tears.

“Huh…?” you look at him with round eyes, your self-doubt making it so hard for you to take in his confession.

But he makes it clear. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I think I’ve been in love with you for a while. I didn’t tell you because… I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted. If that’s how you wanted to be with me. But I see it now, Y/N. I know you’re in love with me, too. Am I wrong?”

You can’t find your voice because the emotion is welling up inside you again. So you shake your head furiously. You weren’t like Johnny--you never could find the right words at the right time. You communicated everything physically. That’s why you pull him into a kiss and though your face is streaked with tears, you can’t bring yourself to care. 

He pulls you in strongly, kissing you like a victory, kissing you like a promise.

You don’t believe this. After years and years of searching, trial and error, getting your heart broken and doing it all over again, you finally got the man. You finally got a man who wanted you in the same way you wanted him. You had yourself a man that cared for you and loved you. You had yourself a man that was willing to be patient with you when you couldn’t put in words what you felt in your heart. 

You had yourself a man whom you could ask to stay and he would.

So tonight, you laid on his chest and he held you impossibly close. Telling you that he won’t go anywhere as long as you wanted him. Telling you that he loved you exactly how you were, broken pieces and all. Telling you that you were worth the effort he would have to make in the morning to seem unsuspicious to prying eyes. Because in exchange, he got to hold you close into the night. Tonight, you prayed for sleep to take you quickly because you were excited to wake up. Because in your heart, you knew that when you did, he would finally still be next to you.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[waitimcomingtoo]

I Got You, Babe ~ T.H

chapter six: home again

series masterlist

Tom practically ran down the hospital hallway and followed the nurse to your room. When he walked through the door, he saw you lying in a hospital bed with several machines hooked up to you. He immediately rushed to your side and dropped to his knees beside your bed.

“Darling. Oh my God.” He slipped his hand into yours and kissed it. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m okay.” You smiled weakly. “I’m just a little banged up. I tripped down the stairs of my apartment.”

“You did? I hate those stairs. They’re too steep. This is my fault. I should’ve been there.” He frowned and kissed your hand again. “I’m so sorry about our fight. We don’t have to move anywhere.”

“We can talk about all of it later, okay? I’m just glad you came.” You said as you squeezed his hand.

“Of course I did. I came as soon as you called. Is the baby okay?”

“I’m not sure. The doctor ran some tests but she hasn’t come back in yet.” You gulped as your eyes drifted over to the many machines you were hooked up to. You had an IV in and two different heart monitors, one of you and one for the baby. Tom looked at the machines and gave you a smile so you wouldn’t worry.

“Tom, what do you do if….” You trailed off and looked at him with terror in your eyes. You didn’t have to say it, he knew what you were thinking.

“Shhh.” He shook his head. “Don’t think about that. The baby is fine.”

“What if she’s not?” You teared up. “I landed on my hip but who knows?”

“I know.” He said firmly. “You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because we had a one in a million chance of making this baby. Nobody gets pregnant from a one night stand, but we did. We were destined to have a baby together. I know we were.”

“What if this is the universes cruel way of punishing us for being apart?” You gulped. “I haven’t called you on 4 weeks. I didn’t stick by your side like I promised I would. This could be my reckoning.”

“Hey.” He smiled softly and cupped your chin as you started to cry. “I love you, okay darling? Nothing changes that. Even if, God forbid, something happens to this baby. We will still be a family and I will still be by your side. I promise.”

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks and you found yourself speechless. You nodded to let Tom know you heard him and pressed your forehead again his. The doctor came in suddenly and you both sat up.

“Oh, good. Dads here.” The doctor said as she shut the door behind her.

“Is everything okay?” Tom asked. “How’s the baby?”

“Relax. Your baby is fine.” The doctor assured you. “The heartbeat is regular, you haven’t had any contractions, and the placenta is still attached. Falls are scary but this was minor. You got lucky. You don’t have to worry.”

“Are you sure?” You didn’t relax yet. “I was bleeding.”

“That was just some spotting.” She shrugged. “It’s normal. Nothing to worry about.”

“Thank God.” You sighed in relief. “I was so scared.”

“Don’t be. Clumsiness is normal for the third trimester. Take a look. You have a healthy baby girl in there.” The doctor pointed to the screen as she pressed the wand to your bump. You and Tom looked at your baby and immediately felt the tension leave your bodies. Tom kissed your shoulder before resting his head down on it.

“Look at her.” He sighed. “She’s beautiful. Beautiful and strong just like her mom.”

“No. She’s evil. How could you scare me like that? All I’ve done is keep you warm and safe and this is how you repay me?” You playfully scolded your bump.

“We should go home and get some rest. You’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Tom said as he stroked your hair.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after this.” You admitted as the doctor unhooked you from the machines.

“I figured. Your heart rates still a little high so I’m prescribing some medication to help with your anxiety. Take one tonight. It should help you fall asleep.“ The doctor said as she wrote something down on a prescription pad.

“Thank you. For everything.” Tom said and took the prescription. He wheeled you out of the hospital in a wheelchair, despite your many protests. You stopped by the pharmacy to pick up your prescription before driving to your apartment. When you walked into your bedroom, Tom noticed Infinity War was paused on your TV.

“You were watching my movie?“ He said softly and looked over at you. It made him feel good to know that you were still supporting him even when you were fighting.

“Yeah.” You smiled shyly. “I wanted to see what you could do.”

“What did you think?” He asked coyly, making you playfully roll your eyes.

“I still don’t like superhero movies. But I think you’re really talented.” You said as you walked over to him. He put his hands on your shoulders and rubbed them up and down before touching his forehead to yours.

“Thank you. So are you. You’re an incredible baker. I never should’ve said that you should give up your career. Your work is just as important as mine.”

“Thank you for saying that.” You smiled softly. “I’m glad you came around. Having a bakery is non negotiable for me.”

“I understand. Of course.”

“But being with you is also a non negotiable.” You continued, making him smile. “And I guess the location doesn’t really matter. I could open a bakery in London and let Leo run the one here. They’ve been doing a really good job lately. I think they could handle it.”

“That sounds like a great idea.” Tom encouraged you. “Leo would be a fantastic business owner.”

“You were right about a lot of things.” You admitted. “Moving to London is the most obvious choice for us. It makes perfect sense. I shouldn’t have fought you on it. I was just scared.”

“Scared of what?” He wondered.

“My whole life is about to change once this baby is born. And if I sell my apartment and my bakery, I won’t have any pieces of my old life left.” You smiled sadly. “I guess I wasn’t ready to give it all up yet. But I am now. I’m a mother now, and I have to do what’s best for my daughter.”

“Are you sure?“ Tom asked. “I don’t want you to have to give up anything for me. Especially not your home.”

“I’m sure.” You nodded. “I want our daughter to grow up close to her family. It’s not like my family is gonna be there for her.”

“I never should’ve said anything about your family.” He sighed. “It wasn’t my place. I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I want to be where your family is because they’re gonna love and support the shit out of this kid. That’s all I could ever want for our daughter. Hell, that’s all I ever wanted for myself.”

“I love and support the shit out of you.” Tom smiled and cupped your chin.

“You do? Still?”

“Always.” He promised. “My love isn’t conditional. No matter what we do or say to each other, I will always love you. Nothing changes that.”

“I love you too.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back before putting his hands on your face to deepen the kiss. It had been weeks since he kissed you last and he seriously missed you.

“Let’s never fight again.” He said when he pulled away.

“I love you, but we are 100% going to fight again.” You chuckled and kissed his face a few times.

“Yeah. Let’s just pretend we won’t fight again for tonight.”

“Sounds good to me, love.” You smiled and leaned in to kiss him again.

“You’ve had a long day. Let’s go to bed.” He said and took your hand. You both changed into pajamas and got into your bed. Tom bought you a bed frame early in the relationship, insisted that sleeping on a floor mattress could not be good for the baby. You laid in bed together with your head on his shoulder and caught up on the last few weeks of your life.

“Would you still love me if I wasn’t having your baby?” You wondered as you traced patterns on his chest.

“Yes. I’m sure of it.” He said as he looked at you. “I liked you from the moment we met. And I loved you as soon as I got to know you. I think we would’ve been together even if I used protection that night.”

“How romantic.” You furrowed your eyebrows and laughed.

“You know what? Let’s get a place in New York.” He decided. “I’m here all the time for work anyway. We can get a big apartment with lots of space for our daughter to play. And you can stay there when you’re feeling homesick.”

“Really?” You smiled hopefully.

“Really.” He nodded. “Your needs as just as important as mine. If New York is important to you, then it’s important to me too.”

“Thank you.” You put a hand on his cheek and leaned in to kiss him. “I really appreciate that. And so will our daughter when she has her first taste of New York candied peanuts.”

“You know, we should probably start thinking about names.” He said and tucked your hair behind your ear. “We can’t call her “our daughter” forever. Do you have any that you like?”

“I really like the idea of naming her after a song.” You told him. “When I was a little girl, I always wished there was a song with my name in it so I could pretend was about me. And I want our daughter to have something in the media that will always remind her of herself.”

“That could be cute.” He nodded. “Give me some examples.”

“Lots of songs mention girls names. There’s Delilah, Eileen, Roxanne, Beth, Rosemary, Betty Caroline, Georgia Rose, to name a few.”

“What song is Georgia Rose from?” Tom wondered.

“Best Song Ever by One Direction.”

“Oh. I never really listened to One Direction. What’s the song called?”

“Best Song Ever.” You said again.

“No I know it’s their best song, but what’s it called?”

“Best Song Ever.” You repeated and looked at him strangely.

“Yes. I understand.” He smiled tightly. “But which song is their best song ever?”

“I already told you! The title of the song is Best Song Ever.” You shouted.

“We said no more fighting!” He shouted back.

“Oh my God.” You covered your face and let out a laugh. Tom laughed as well and pulled you closer to kiss your head.

“We could name her Stacy.” He suggested. “And then you could fulfill your childhood dream of having a song about you.”

“How so?”

“Stacy’s mom has got it going on.” He sang softly, making you laugh.

“Aw. That’s a cute idea.” You smiled. “Oh! Jolene. That’s another one.”

“Doesn’t Jolene kinda have a bad reputation? She stole Dolly’s man.” Tom reminded you.

“It’s never confirmed whether Jolene took her man or not.” You shrugged. “All we know is that she could’ve taken Dolly’s man. Maybe she heard the song and decided not to take him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I listen to it.” He chuckled before looking over at the dresser. “Oh, here. The anxiety medication.”

“Thanks. Do you have any names you want to add to the list?” You asked as you took the medication.

“I don’t know. I just like alliteration. If we’re giving her my last name, an “h” name might be cute.” He suggested.

“Don’t you like Harry Potter? We could name her Hagrid.”

“We’re not naming our baby girl Hagrid.”

“But we can’t name her Harry. You already have a brother named Harry.” You pointed out.

“That wasn’t the issue.”

“Hospital.” You snapped your fingers. “We could name her Hospital Holland. It’s an homage to where she’ll be born.”

“I think the medication is kicking in.” Tom realized. “That stuff works fast.”

“Huckleberry.” You continued. “Aw. That’s such a pretty name.”

“It’s just not.”

“I’m putting it on the list.” You typed it onto the list on your phone. “What else? Hereditary, hollandaise, hot sauce, Highway to Hell, Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Okay. I think it’s time for bed.” He took your phone and set it down on the dresser.

“HBO Max sign in. That begins with an “h”. That could be cute. I bet no one else in her class will have that name.” You continued to list off.

“I’m sure they won’t, darling. And neither will she. How do you turn this thing off?” He pointed the remote at your TV to turn it off. He hit a button and accidentally changed the channel to Modern Family.

“I love this show.” You gasped and grabbed his arm. “It’s my favorite show.”

“I like it too.” He smiled. “I haven’t seen it in a while.”

“My sister and I used to watch it together all the time. The Dunphy sisters reminded us of our relationship.” You said as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Who was who?” He asked you.

“She was Haley. I was Alex. We used to call each other that as nicknames. Nobody understood why except for us.” You smiled at the memory as you watched the TV. Your smile fell suddenly as your eyes glazed over.

“I miss my Haley.” You whispered. Tom turned and looked at you, unsure of how to navigate this situation. You rarely opened up about your family so to hear you be vulnerable about it made him determined not to drop the ball. An idea came to him suddenly and he sat up straight.

“Haley’s Comet.” He gasped.

“What?”

“I know it’s not a song, but it’s still a part of popular media. We could name her after Haley’s Comet.”

“Why would we name her after Haley’s Comet?”

“Think about it. If the comets orbital path is once every 75 years, seeing it is a once in a lifetime experience. Well, I think conceiving this baby after meeting one time was a one in a lifetime experience for us. The way we came together as a family is rare. And so is Haley’s Comet.”

“That’s true.” You agreed. “Our story is pretty unique to us.”

“Exactly. And when Haley’s Comet comes back to earth one day while the whole talks about how excited they are to see it, she’ll feel special and know that she’s just as rare as that comet. Plus, it reminds you of your sister and your favorite show.” He explained as he pointed to the TV.

“Haley?” You cracked a smile. “Haley Holland?”

“Haley Holland.” He nodded, liking the way it rolled off his tongue.

“And it’s alliteration.” You realized. “Like you wanted.”

“Did we just name our kid? In like ten minutes?”

“I think we did. Did we name you, Haley?” You asked as you rubbed your bump. Tom put his hand on your bump and felt a kick.

“She kicked me.” You gasped. “That either means she’s excited about her name or she hates it and wanted revenge.”

“I think she liked it. Didn’t you, baby girl?” Tom asked the bump. The baby kicked you again and you and Tom shared a smile.

“It’s not just gonna be the two of us for much longer.” Tom said softly. “Haley’s gonna be here in like three months.”

“I know. We need to get started on her nursery.”

“Yeah.” Tom smiled tightly. “About that.”

“Ta da.” He said weakly as he showed you what he did to his guest room. It was a few days after your hospital visit and you’d flown back to London, where you planned to stay for the remainder of your pregnancy. Your jaw dropped as you took a step into the former guest room. In the time since you’d last been there, Tom turned the guest room into a nursery. The walls had been painted pink and there were daisies painted around the rim of the room.

“Woah. You did all of this?” You asked as you touched the white crib in the corner.

“Before you touch anything, nothing was built properly.” Tom admitted. “Harry helped me assemble it and he’s a box of rocks.”

“Did you paint these?” You pointed to the daisies with a smile.

“The boys helped me. We didn’t open a window when we were painting and Harrison slept for like 17 hours straight afterwards.”

You laughed and continued to look around the room. He had a poorly assembled bookshelf with baby books already lined up. On top of a lopsided dresser was a picture of you and Tom from the night you met. He watched you as you looked around the room, trying to gage your reaction.

“We can finish the rest together.” He offered. “I’m sorry I did so much without you. I didn’t know what to do with myself when we weren’t talking. I threw myself into the nursery to remind myself you’d have to talk to me eventually.”

“Oh, Tom.” You smiled sympathetically.

“Are you mad? I know we planned on doing this together.”

“No. I’m not mad.” You walked over to him and cupped his face. “I love it. I love all of it. You did a great job.”

“Really?“ He asked and put his hands over yours.

“Really. And I’d love to finish it together. And by together, I mean I’ll sit in that rocking chair and tell you what to do.”

“Sounds good to me, love.” He smiled before leaning in to kiss you. You kissed him back for a long time before resting your foreheads together.

“I really missed you.” He said softly.

“I missed you too. I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

“It was all my fault.” He shook his head. “I lost my cool on you and it was totally unacceptable. I can’t believe I called you a bitch. I’ve never done that before. And I promise, I’ll never do it again. I called my mom and told her what I said and she drove straight to my house to hit me with a magazine.”

“And that is a perfectly valid reaction. But you can’t take all the blame. I was being unreasonable. You were right for us to move here. Look at this place.” You gestured to the room. “It’s perfect. Haley’s gonna love it here.”

“I hope so.” He nodded. “I’m just glad we’re a family again.”

“Me too, Tommy. Me too.”

“Come take a ride with me.” He squeezed your hands. “I have something else I need to show you.”

“Okay.” You looked at him skeptically and let him lead you out of the room. He drove you to a nearby vacant space and let you in the door.

“Wow. This place is huge.” You commented as you walked through the space.

“Yeah. I figured you’d need more space now that you’re so popular.”

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him. Tom smiled sheepishly and went over to the register. He took a small black box with a red bow out from under the register and handed it to you. When you opened it, you found a deed to the property and a key.

“It’s yours. Surprise.” He smiled weakly as he waited for your reaction.

“Oh my gosh.” You covered your mouth with your hand. “Tom, are you serious? You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes I did. I squashed your dreams when I should’ve been encouraging them. A baker as amazing as you needs a bakery. You shouldn’t have to put your dreams on hold for anything.”

“But the baby is coming so soon. Who’s gonna run the place until I’m ready to come back?”

“My brother Sam offered to take over for a while.” Tom told you. “He said he’s gonna need a few lessons from you, though.”

“I can’t believe you did this for me. This is gonna be amazing. Thank you so much.” You put the box down before pulling him into a hug.

“You’re welcome, darling. But there’s one more surprise.” He pulled away and went over to the refrigerator.

“Tom, you’ve already given me so much. What else could you have possibly done?” You asked him. He pulled a platter with a silver dome on top of it out of the refrigerator and brought it over to you.

“Ta da.” He took the dome off. “I came over here and baked them while you were napping before.”

“You made cupcakes?” You gasped when he revealed what was underneath.

“Yep. They’re red velvet.” He nodded proudly. “I wanted you to be the first to eat a baked good in this bakery.”

“They look beautiful. Good job, honey.” You cupped his chin before taking a cupcake.

“Thank you. Cheers.” He clinked his cupcake against yours before you both took a bite. You chewed for a few minutes before both your faces contorted in disgust.

“Oh my God. This is disgusting.” You cringed as you swallowed.

“That is completely inedible.” Tom agreed and put the cupcake down. “I thought I could make them from memory but I guess I wasn’t really paying attention when you made them. I was distracted. You’re really pretty.”

“You’re so cute. But why didn’t you Google a recipe?” You laughed and set your cupcake down.

“I didn’t think of that. Never leave me again.” He sighed. “I can’t make it without you. Look at what happens when you’re gone.”

“I appreciate the effort. But I think you should leave the baking to me, lover.” You smiled and took a swipe of the frosting to put it on his nose.

“I can do that.” He laughed and put some frosting on your nose in return. He cupped your face and kissed the frosting off the tip of your nose.

You stayed in London the next few weeks as you got closer to your due date. Leo ran the bakery in New York so you could focus on yourself and the baby. You were fully moved in to Tom’s home in London now and spent your days living as functioning couple. You sat in the rocking chair in the nursery one day, reading baby books as Tom rebuilt the crib.

“Does this go in here?” Tom asked as he held up two pieces of the crib. You looked up from the book and nodded.

“Should we have been playing her Mozart?” You asked as you skimmed a page.

“This does not seems structurally sound.” He mumbled and wobbled the crib.

“This book doesn’t say anything about ferberzing.”

“That book?” Tom looked up. “Yeah it does. Chapter 17. Towards the middle.”

“Wow. You had that memorized.” You smirked. “I’m surprised you knew what ferberizing was.”

“Oh, you mean the Ferber Method?” Tom asked suavely. “Also known as teaching your child to self soothe by letting them cry it out at night. I know all about that, darling. I’ve read all those books cover to cover at least three times now. It was the hardest I ever studied for anything in my life. And the most books I ever read.”

“Don’t make me laugh.” You whined through a chuckle. “I have to pee.”

“So go pee.” He said as he tightened the screws of the crib.

“It takes so much effort to move.” You groaned. “And I’m so comfortable.”

“I’d offer to carry you but I think it would make us both feel bad about ourselves when we inevitably find out that I cannot pick you up.”

“Stop making me laugh.” You laughed and chuckled a stuffed animal at him.

“I can’t help it. You’re dating a comedian.” He shrugged. “The baby is gonna come out with natural comedic timing, just like her daddy. She’ll be straight out of the womb like “what’s the deal with baby food?” and it’s gonna bring the delivery room to tears.”

“What comedian sounds like that?” You laughed again. “Tell me.”

“All of them.” Tom said quietly.

“Oh yeah? Name one comedian.” You challenged him.

“My dad.” Tom scoffed.

“He doesn’t count.” You giggled. “I knew you couldn’t name one.”

“Yes I can.” He whined. “What’s that American guys name? Jimmy?”

“Who’s Jimmy?” You laughed harder.

“You know Jimmy.” He insisted. “He has a TV show. They’re always drinking coffee on it.”

“Jimmy Fallon?”

“No.” Tom waved his hand. “Not like a host. He’s a stand up comedian and his name is Jimmy.”

“I don’t think he’s real.” You shook your head. “I think you made Jimmy up to win this argument.”

“Jimmy is real.” Tom insisted. “I am a Jimmy truther. He exists. I know he does.”

“Then what does this Jimmy look like?” You asked him.

“He is white. And a man.”

“Oh, he’s a white man who does standup comedy?” You laughed. “Why didn’t you say so? That narrows it down.”

“I don’t know. I can’t explain Jimmy to you. The girls who get it get it and the girls who don’t, don’t.” Tom shrugged.

“Are you talking about Jerry Seinfeld?” You realized.

“I have never heard that name in my life.”

“This man?” You pulled up a picture on your phone and showed Tom.

“Jimmy!” Tom lit up when he saw the picture. “See. I could name a comedian. I win.”

“You didn’t know his name and couldn’t tell me a single thing about him.” You pointed out.

“Yeah well. Shut up.” He mumbled, making you laugh even harder.

“You have the giggles tonight.” Tom smiled as you got out of the rocking chair. You felt a sharp pain suddenly and rubbed your bump. The pain went away so you brushed it off.

“I know.” You snorted. “It’s your fault. You keep making me laugh.”

“Aw. Poor you. Having a loving boyfriend who makes you laugh? That must be really difficult for you.” Tom said sarcastically. You laughed at his tone but stopped suddenly when you you felt a wetness between your legs.

“Oh God. I think I peed myself. Why did I wear a dress today?” You whined and looked down. Tom looked over at you and saw a small pool of water on the ground beneath you.

“Darling, I think you peed the entire house.” He furrowed his eyebrows. “That sounded like a bucket of water being poured out. How long have you been holding that in?”

“Tom, I don’t think that’s pee.” You said as you stared at the puddle you had made.

“Um, it’s liquid that just gooshed out of your cooch. I think pee is the only option here.”

“It doesn’t look like pee.” You pointed out. “And it didn’t feel like pee when it came out of me. And don’t say cooch.”

“Then what else could it have been?” He frowned. “Bottled up tears?”

“It wasn’t tears, dummy.” You laughed. “I think my water just broke.”

“Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes. “And I’m Jimmy Seinfeld.”

“No, Tom. I’m serious. I think my water broke.”

“Wait, what?” He quickly got off the floor. “If your water broke, does that mean…”

“Yeah, Tom.” You gulped. “The baby’s coming.”

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