#she refused after literally twenty feet

[theasylumchild]

Crying because today was shit, but I have to cry quietly because if my dog hears my crying she’ll become distressed and have another hyperventilating episode, which is one of the things that made today so shit

[alchemistc]

It's not something he thinks about terribly often - no real reason to, until this moment, with an arm slung over Evan's waist and a pair of eyes blinking at him out of the darkness.

Maddie and Howie are significantly smaller than Buck and Tommy. They are. There's no denying it. The bed that probably fits the two of them neatly with plenty of room to spare is just no match for Evan's mile-long legs, their broad chests and wide shoulders. Evan's tendency to kick one leg out from under the duvet and Tommy's habit of sprawling are just no match for this perfectly normal sized bed.

He'd said so even as they were turning out lights, voices low as they bypassed the frankly laughable double in the spare room in favor of the master, and Evan had joked that it wasn't like they didn't end most nights practically on top of one another, anyway, so what did it matter if they were a little cramped?

And he'd been right - at the time. In a California king they barely used half the bed - some combination of torsos and limbs always sliding together, heads tucked under chins and legs tangled together, arms slung over waists and pillows shared between them. Six months past the argument that had tipped them straight out of the honeymoon phase and firmly into 'actually we're just like this and that's clearly not going to change' and Tommy can't think of a single night they've actually laid down to sleep and not ended up a sprawl of interconnected pieces.

And they'd made it work, even though Maddie and Howie's bed is not large enough for two 6'2" men.

It wouldn't be a problem, except for the shadow hovering just a few feet in front of a softly snoring Evan - wet eyes and messy hair and a trembling bottom lip that Tommy is sure other people also find as devastating as he does, in this moment. "I sleep with you?" Jee Yun murmurs, wiping at her snotty nose and blinking her eyes like she doesn't already know Tommy would do pretty much anything to wipe the sad little frown off her face.

It's just.

There's no fucking room in this bed. Sure, if she'd had a bad dream and gone to seek comfort from her parents, there'd have been room, but, as Tommy has come to understand, her parents are significantly smaller than he and Evan and if Tommy shifts his weight in the wrong direction the both of them are tumbling off one end of this bed.

Jee's lip trembles.

"Did you have a nightmare, bug?" Tommy asks softly, and Jee shakes her head fiercely, tucking her chin towards her chest, a hand reaching out to dig tiny hands into the duvet. Stubborn, like the rest of her family, a refusal to admit weakness he's been in an uphill battle to stomp out of her uncle for going on a year now. Evan mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, and Jee turns still-wet eyes on Tommy.

"I sleep here with Uncle Tommy?"

Which is not playing fair at all.

When they'd all but shoved Maddie and Howie out the door to go enjoy a long weekend, insistent that it would be easier on Jee if they watched her in her own home, Jee had been ecstatic. She'd bounced off the walls for hours, dragged Tommy around with all the resolve of a child aware she had him wrapped both figuratively and literally around her tiny little fingers (her whole hand could wrap around two of his fingers at a time), insisted on piggy back rides when it became clear that riding on either of their shoulders was just a recipe for bonked heads. She'd tired herself out before the sun had even set, and passed out with her head pillowed on Evan's thigh and one foot tucked in Tommy's armpit, the other shoved under his knee on the couch.

She'd barely stirred when Tommy swung her up into his arms and tucked her into bed, and Tommy had spent a good twenty minutes after the fact furiously reminding Evan that they were not having sex in his sisters bed.

("The biological impossibility of knocking me up aside, you know what it does to me when I see you with kids, Tommy."

"Yeah, well, let your non-existent ovaries quiver with excitement for a few more days and I'll make it up to you.")

The Uncle Tommy thing is new. As in, she's never used it before this evening, nodding off in her seat while she picked at her chicken nuggets, and maybe Tommy had gone so still when she'd murmured it that Evan had actually been a little concerned, and maybe he'd indulged her request for a third episode of Bluey because of it, but he's a grown ass man who can surely let her down gently - sweep her off her feet and tuck her back in to her own bed and sit with her until she passes out again.

Or Jee can employ an absolutely deadly combo of trembling lip and tears at the corner of her eyes and Tommy can cave like the idiot he is.

Tommy assesses the scant space on Evan's side of the bed - knee curled up towards his torso and ankle dangling off the side of the bed, a hand under his cheek as he continues to snuffle in his sleep. No go there. Tommy's flush against him, knees tucked behind Evan's, arm still settled against his waist, and at his back there's plenty of space but if Tommy rolls sideways he's got maybe six inches of leeway between himself and the end of the mattress.

Tommy sighs and rolls. Jee's face lights up. Evan snorts awake and grunts in pain as he gets an elbow to the sternum and a knobbly knee to the give of his stomach when Jee climbs right up over him to shove into the newly opened space between them.

"Jee?" comes the tired voice as Evan shuffles onto his left side to face Tommy and their new company, rubbing at his eyes and smacking his lips like he's thirsty.

"Bad dream," Tommy intones softly even as Jee settles herself between them. There's a sharp knee dangerously close to his groin and a tiny little hand fisted in his sleep shirt and a face shoved into his rib cage, and Evan is giving him that look again.

Evan rests a hand against Jee's back, fingers shifting back and forth across her shoulders while she shifts her weight to find the optimal position. Jee sighs into Tommy's shirt, hot wet breath fanning out over the little spot, and kicks a leg back at an angle that must just miss something soft of Evan's, if the look in his face is anything to go by.

She's asleep before Tommy can count to ten - out like a fucking light in the space between them.

Evan's eyes meet his. It's a conversation they've had in fits and starts for months, now - since the first time he caught sight of Evan holding a baby and nearly had a meltdown in aisle three of Trader Joe's because he'd tucked that idea away years ago.

It's one they really need to have in full. Soon.

Evan's hand shifts, fingers reaching for the bolt of Tommy's jaw, thumb pressing into his cleft and then shifting sideways. "She played you like a fiddle," Evan says, voice soft, grin going wide, and Tommy glances down at the shock of dark hair tucked between them with the sudden realization that of the two of them, Evan is gonna end up being the disciplinarian.

Christ, they're fucking screwed.

He breathes, rubs his face into the pillow, reaches up to cup Evan's hand in his palm, enjoying the stretch of heat across his cheek and jaw.

"Go back to sleep," Tommy tells him, and doesn't fight the pull of a few more hours for himself when Evan sighs and lets his eyes drift closed.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Violence, suggestive content

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Two months. Two. Fucking. Months. Cassian shook his head, almost impressed.

Quite literally two fucking months. 

Cassian’s breath caught in his throat. He half-coughed, half-laughed up the wine he’d been drinking. Nesta thumped his back, a mischievous smirk plastered on her normally severe face. 

Rhysand had finally gotten word that you and Azriel would be arriving… well, anytime now. Everyone had piled onto the House of Wind’s roof to await your return, the taste of new gossip already in the air. 

Nesta lounged in Cassian’s lap, searching the horizon line for the tell-tale flicker of Azriel’s wings. Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor were too busy placing bets on which of the males — if any — would come out of the fight unscathed to stare at the sky. 

“Fifty on Azriel.” Emerie said without hesitation.

There was a clatter of coins. 

“I’ve got a good feeling about Helion. The paternal protectiveness might make him especially vicious.” Gwyn reasoned. 

“Brotherly protectiveness may prove just as strong. If not stronger.” Was Mor’s opinion. “Lucien and Helion both won against Azriel last time.” 

“Az wasn’t trying then.” Emerie argued back. “Sad male that he was.”

The father-son pair tried not to let their egos grow or be injured by the conversation happening so close by. Instead, they engrossed themselves in their third chess game of the morning. It was becoming rather tedious by now. Being the early risers — and overprotective males — that they were, they’d been waiting for hours in the training ring for the first sign of your return. 

Alas, nothing so far.

A spread of breakfast plates cluttered the table they played on, silverware stacked neatly on porcelain plates. Save for the knives. Those were kept in close reach.

Rhysand tried to join in on the game, but the two males refused him time and time again. They knew better than to play with a daemati. 

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred. “Won’t you indulge me?” 

She smirked, but slid into her chair beside Nesta and Cassian, and across from her mate. She folded her finger neatly beneath her chin, her wall of adamant strong and impenetrable. 

Rhys was about to make his first move — pawn to E4 — when a twinkle in Feyre’s eye told him they had visitors. 

Cassian stood up straighter, a shit-eating grin already plastered on his face as he cupped his hand to his mouth and whooped.

A full house. You remarked as the House of Wind came into view above the city. Its red stone spires crawled into the sky. Reaching like outstretched fingertips.

The wind sang in your ears, ruffling your hair as you clung to Azriel. 

Lucky us. You teased.

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched at the flash of red hair and crown of black locs waiting on the roof. 

Helion and Lucien rose slowly, twin smirks gracing their lips as they started unclasping necklaces and tying back their hair. 

Is it too late to go back to the Cottage? Azriel growled, dropping to his feet on the House of Wind’s roof.

I’m afraid so. We’ve committed. 

You slowly untangled yourself from Azriel’s hold and planted both feet on solid ground. He caught your arm before you could stray too far, tugging you back to his side and wrapping a wing around your shoulders. 

“You’re baaaaaack!” Cassian sang, throwing his arm out in a gesture of welcome. “Gods have we missed you both. You especially, Y/n. You look lovely. The mating bond suits you.” 

He winked seductively, blowing a kiss in your direction. 

Azriel figured Cassian could do without his remaining arm. 

“I hope Azriel sufficed for your first time.” Rhysand chimed in. His voice was liquid velvet. By now, Azriel had gone stone still — a dangerous look for the Shadowsinger. “But if you’re ever interested in sampling better fares, Cassian and I—” 

Helion slammed into Azriel’s side before he could reach Rhysand, wrapping his powerful arms around Azriel’s middle and throwing him across the room where Lucien waited with fist pulled back. 

Remember what we talked about. 

Azriel was slippery and cool as he wove in and out between Helion and Lucien’s bodies. He threw out a collection of strikes that had blood splattering on the ground.

Nothing permanent. He growled.

Thank you. 

“Did you see that?” Rhysand looked aghast as he settled deep into his seat. “He was going to hit me!” He flipped his cane end over end. 

“He has no honor, brother.” Cassian agreed. But both had to admit, there was some satisfaction in getting to watch the fight instead of participating in it. 

You slunk around the edges of the training ring, trying to avoid getting too close to the tumble of bodies that were being thrown around like rag dolls. 

It would seem there was someone else trying to escape notice.

You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here, High Lord?” 

Eris Vanserra leaned against a stone pillar, foot propped up against the wall as he swirled a glass of wine between bejeweled fingers. Aside from the gold glittering on his knuckles and along his ears, he was dressed like a commoner. His brown riding boots were well-worn with love and his shirt was left open at the top to reveal scarred and freckled skin. He chuckled when Lucien slammed his fist into the side of Azriel’s face with a growl that rattled the columns.

“None of that High Lord business.” He said, swatting the air like the very term offended him. “Call me Eris.” He smiled sideways at you, never taking his full attention off the fight. “Lucien asked me to come as backup, and I would never pass up the opportunity to help my brother,” he glanced down at you and cocked his head to the side, “And my sister.” 

“Is that what we are now? Siblings?”

He shrugged. “We always did want a girl in the family.” 

You were about to ask who Eris meant by “we” when there came a loud bang. 

Azriel held the shattered legs of a chair and Lucien kneeled on the ground, spitting splinters from his mouth. 

“You’re doing your brotherly duty wonderfully.” Your words were drier than a desert. 

Helion came to Lucien’s aide and used those powerful legs of his to drop kick Azriel in the chest and crack a rib… or two. 

“I’m also here for the entertainment.” Eris winked. 

When he turned back to the fight, Azriel was already staring at him, and he was livid. 

“Ahhhh, that’s my cue.” He tousled your hair, earning a roar from Azriel as Lucien and Helion latched onto his arms and held the Shadowsinger back. “We’ll talk again later.” 

He sauntered over to the trio, reared back his fist, and punched Azriel in the stomach. 

Nesta waved you over from her spot at the table with Gwyn, Emerie, Mor, and Feyre. It was a safe enough distance away from the brawl, even if the glasses shook every time a body hit the floor. 

“Leave the males to their fighting and eat. You must be starved.” Nesta slid over a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast slathered in a healthy amount of butter. 

You hated that Nesta was right. The frenzy had left you with little patience for eating most days. You descended upon the food. 

Gwyn was still watching the males. There was a strange fascination in her eyes as Helion spit out a mouthful of blood and Azriel punched Eris in the teeth. “I wonder how many wars could have been prevented if the males simply gathered in a room with their right hands and a ruler.” 

Emerie snorted. “I reckon at least ten.” 

Gwyn shook her head. “So.” She turned her attention to you and leaned in close. “How was it?” She did not speak the words quietly.

You blushed through a mouthful of eggs. “It was… very nice.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Nesta shook her head so many times that flyaway strands of blonde hair escaped her coronet. “How was it?”

Cassian moved in close, resting his head on Nesta’s shoulder. “We want details.” 

“Oh, stay out of this, Cass.” 

The Lord of Bloodshed huffed when Feyre enclosed the females in a wall of silent air. He settled for laying his head against Nesta’s back, feeling the vibrations of her body as she spoke.  

“We do want details. Spare us nothing.” 

The females hovered, breaths held in their chests for every salacious detail you were certain to tell. Their excitement made them forgetful of one very important fact — you had always been, and likely always would be, very private.

You looked at Feyre and swallowed. “We um… We broke the windows at the Cottage and need them replaced.” 

The females blinked. 

“Which ones?” Feyre asked, arching a dark brow. 

Azriel smiled at you from across the training ring, a trickle of blood spilling out from the corner of his lips as he wrestled Eris to the ground with his legs locked around the redhead’s neck. 

“All of them.” 

It was near noon when the fighting started, and the males still hadn’t ceased though the sun had set hours ago.

You walked onto the roof smothered in one of Azriel’s sweaters to escape the air’s chilly bite. This high up the mountains, the wind always whisked away heat like the sea to sand. 

Scraps of fabric littered the ground. Bloodstains lay sprinkled across stone floors like salt. It was all to be expected after a mating frenzy, and it did not surprise you that Azriel had kept up with your father and brothers for so long, but, enough was enough. You wanted your mate back.

“Ahem,” You coughed loudly. 

Azriel’s eyes flickered to you before you even opened your mouth. He had felt your presence before you’d even walked up the stairs and stepped onto the training mats. 

My love. He sighed.

Eris got the last swing in, but he missed the Shadowsinger by a half-margin. Poor Lucien, who’d been holding back Azriel’s arm, got a fistful of gold rings instead.

Lucien’s head snapped back. “What the fuck, Eris?!” He stood grasping at his nose. Blood spilled out from between his fingers. 

Eris winced. “Sorry, little brother.” 

You made another little noise and the males shoved each other away, bodies sweaty and bloodstained. Eris’s shirt was ripped to shreds, barely hanging onto his narrow shoulders as he wiped the blood from his lips and grinned like a fox. Helion was missing a nose ring and the top tip of his ear. A bruise sprouted along Lucien’s cheeks courtesy of his brother. 

But Azriel? The only evidence he carried of the fight was the thin line of dried blood between his lips. It was not unpleasant to look upon.

Less than ten seconds ago they’d been at each other's throats with tooth and nail. But as males were ought to do, once the fight was over they were quick to grumble half-hearted compliments and began picking jewelry and abandoned blades off the floor.

Azriel tipped his head towards you in the smallest of bows. When you held out your hand for him, he didn’t even bother walking to close the distance between you two. He winnowed directly to your side.

About time you finished. I’m ready for bed and I’d like to have my mate beside me.

I like it when you call me that. I like it when you call me yours.

You smiled softly at him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of smiling at his hazel eyes. 

You looked to the rest of your family. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t pretend to worry about us, dear Y/n.” Eris snorted. The smirk on his face was a friendly one, highlighting his handsome, but impish, features as he gathered his cloak from the corner of the room. He swung it around his shoulders, magically repairing his clothes with a flutter of red velvet. “We’re fine. And I would never pass up an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with the Shadowsinger.” He winked at Azriel, who only scowled in return. 

That scowl turned into a barred teeth snarl when Eris brushed past you both.

His warm, amber eyes betrayed what you already knew from that brief moment of contact before he went off to his room — he hadn’t been lying when he said they always wanted a girl in the family. 

“Goodnight, sister.” Lucien said, kissing your forehead. It took everything in Azriel not to pummel Lucien once more. Your brother’s eyes flickered up to the Shadowsinger. “And congratulations on your mating bond. Truly.” 

You mouthed the words, Thank you, before accepting a final goodnight embrace from your father. 

“It’s good to have you back.” He smoothed back your hair. Then Helion clicked his tongue and thumped Azriel on the shoulder. “Greedy little Shadowsinger. Keeping my daughter away for two months.” He shook his head in mock disappointment.

The pair soon disappeared down the hallway leaving you and Azriel to linger in the night’s silence alone.

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitched — the only sign he was in any pain when you gently brushed against his ribs. 

You smirked. It would seem that your family members had done a number on the Shadowsinger. He’d just been hiding it beneath layers of leather and male pride. What a shame that the females’ bets had been for nothing.

My Y/n, whose side are you on? He asked as you began unbuckling the gauntlets on his arms. Piece by piece, leather armor fell to the ground as steam curled up into the air. It never failed to amaze you how large Illyrian tubs were—and how long they took to fill. 

I’m on both your sides.

That is a very noncommittal answer. 

It’s a very judicious answer. 

Azriel smiled, cheeks brushing against yours as he kissed the curve of your ear. I do agree you are anything if not sensible. 

Azriel hummed in satisfaction as the last of his Illyrian leathers dropped to the floor. You knelt beside the tub, pouring in a concoction of oils as Azriel stretched out his wings. It was easy to admire the curve of his neck and the muscles of his back as his wings flexed open and close. 

When he was deep beneath the waters, eucalyptus and lavender opening up his lungs, he asked you to clean his wings. It was heaven whenever you touched them. Your soft fingertips seemed to hold all the power in the world — the power to light his blood aflame like whiskey or to soothe him like a sleep draught. Tonight your touch was peaceful as he wrapped his mind around the bond and felt your souls melt and mix like gold. 

This is to be our lives now. Azriel reminded himself once again. 

You buried yourself beneath the covers and made a little noise of contentment that never failed to make his chest grow warm. 

It is. You agreed. Would you like me to remind you? 

It was a pattern of words you’d grown used to while at the Cottage. Azriel would marvel at the mating bond—the peace that came with it—and you would take to carefully kissing the expanse of his chest, his neck, his collarbones, until there wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been painted by your gentle lips. 

You began that ritual now, winding your way up his chest and ending at his eyelids. Black eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you finished performing the magic that was your love and devotion. 

I love you, Azriel. You reminded him. You would remind him of that truth every day of your lives. 

I love you too, Y/n. I adore you. 

You settled into his side and Azriel draped a wing around your shoulders in a move that was as natural as breathing now. Heads bowed together, shadows curled close by, and scarred hands met scarred skin as he traced the curve of your spine.

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird. 

Together. 

As they were always meant to be.

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______________

Author's Note:

This is the last chapter before the epilogue y'all. I don't think I can say anything right now because it feels weird to be saying goodbye to this story so... I guess I'll save my thoughts and emotions for another time...

[lethalchiralium]

Happiness [26]

chapter title: Burial Plot

a/n: i literally got the fucking writing worms the last few days. i have been non-stop. missus deserves everything because i say so and i love her. (i love you) 4.7k words

warnings: missus’s trauma and her reactions because of it. UNEDITED.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s been at least two days, you were certain of that. There was a tiny window near the ceiling, shining light from dawn to dusk - the only light you were allowed while you sat in the cold basement, holding and taking care of a sick Mellie. You only slept for a few hours, wanting to listen and learn your captor’s patterns, which was what Simon always said to do.

One had heavy footsteps and didn’t do much, only went outside to piss and to smoke. Two liked to pace, he had lighter footsteps, he talked on the phone for at least twenty minutes every hour. Lloyd had loud footsteps, he was constantly talking to his henchmen or on the phone, the only time he wasn’t upstairs was when he came down to make sure you were still stuck with a miserable baby. Anger festered in your chest when you saw him, always bleeding through to the rest of your body.

The only route of escape you had was up the stairs and through the locked door. Then, you had no idea where to go from there.

Would it be better to follow the drive they take up to wherever you are? No, they could easily get in a car and grab you again. If there’s woods, you need to go into the woods.

You wiped at your face after you washed your hands in the sink of the tiny bathroom, it was nestled in the corner of the basement. It was getting darker in the basement, you had already changed Mellie again and tried to feed her but she refused. You were grateful that you were given more diapers than which you started, even if Lloyd handed them to you himself. You were more than desperate to hit him in the face, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. You gazed at yourself in the mirror, recognizing your face but not your eyes - fear had made its home there, terror a weight that has drowned many and you weren’t sure you were safe from that fate.

Footsteps above you again, it sounded like Lloyd. You moved out of the bathroom, the concrete beneath your feet was freezing to the touch but you barely acknowledged it, your eyes gazed upon the broken bookshelf beside the staircase. There was only two shelves, one broken and left inside of it. You’ve been looking at it during the day, thinking it may be loose enough to break free and be a weapon.

Creak, creak… click.

The sound of the lock on the basement door made you panic, you darted to your bed to pick up the sleeping Mellie - she barely stirred as you sat on the bed, holding her to your chest and watching your only exit. Your stomach knotted with anticipation, knowing Lloyd would be coming down to “chat” - to pry information about Simon out of you with a cigarette stained smile. Your hands shook, you were desperately gripping Mellie’s little onesie to try and stop it as Lloyd walked down the steps, his wickedly cruel painted on his face.

“Hello, sweethear’.”

A hand on your face made your eyes rip open, the roar in your throat grew louder and your weak arms instantly went to throw the touch off.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s-“

Your push was met with a grunt, “Get off me!”

You threw more of a struggle, you could hear thundering footsteps and you pushed harder. Fight, push him off, keep Lloyd away, away, away-

“Get her on her side-“

“I’m bloody tryin’, Price, she’s not exactly workin’ with me-“

A large hand pushed your hip down, your stomach pressed into the mattress and the same hand on your face cupped your cheek. Paralysing fear pulsed in your chest, your hands were wrenched behind your back. “Get off!” You tried to throw your elbows back, kick your legs, but another pair of hands held your legs down. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Darling, wake up, it’s me.”

All you could feel were burning hands, disgusting sweat against your face that were merely phantoms compared to this, but it was still terrifying. Your eyes screwed shut as if to hide from your attackers. This wasn’t something you could come back from, they’d tear your limb from limb and pluck the meat from your bones like the starved coyotes they were. Always staring, always wanting to poke, prod, and gnaw on any sliver of skin. “Please-“

Lloyd will kill you. He tried so hard, he’s trying again, he’ll do more than almost slit your throat in half, he’ll stab you, he’ll shoot you, he’ll-

“Watch it, Simon-“

Ice cold water splashed against your face and your eyes shot open, head twisted at an uncomfortable angle and all you could see was Gaz, kneeling beside your bed with a half empty glass of water in his hand. Pressure came from your back, your face, your legs, and you couldn’t move your head to look.

He leaned back on his legs, the sigh that escaped him sounded relieving. “She’s awake now.”

“Kyle?” The hands on your legs disappeared, the pressure on your back slid away, the hand on your cheek went from rough to soothing - it curled around your hairline and brushed the sweaty hairs back. You tilted your head a little to look back, a glimpse of blond hair entered your view. “Simon?”

“Right here.” So he’s the hand on your hair.

The water settled into the sheets before your face, the muscles in your body began to constrict and become almost brittle. The fight in your chest and mind was now long gone, a fleeting exposure to the normal fight or flight response. Fear nestled so deeply in your brain that it bled like a river when you were locked in that basement and nearly tortured. Muscles stunned into paralysis, tears flooded the plains of your cheeks. The nightmares kept getting more vivid, even worse each time, and you weren’t scared by the task force holding you down. Simon’s earned a myriad of scratches, you’ve punched Soap in your sleep, even cut Price’s face with your nails. Gaz was wise enough to be the one to wake you up, after many days of Simon doing it and you screamed so loud every time that the girls were terrified. Ice water was your idea, constraint was your husband’s - you didn’t blame him, the shock of the water would freak you out and you already feel horrible for the damage you’ve caused the family.

You’re already well aware of the exhaustion you bring too. Simon can’t leave you home alone anymore, the rest of the 141 sleep in the empty rooms in the basement just in case your husband needs help with you. Walking was difficult, eating hurt, your lungs out of breath at every turn, even thinking made you ache. He had to be nearly full-time care while he split his time up to take care of the girls, but his friends had stepped up there. It’s temporary, you kept telling yourself. You’d pay them back tenfold someday.

“Jesus, she got you good, man.”

“S’alright.” His gentle hand fled to your shoulder blades, shapes softly rubbed into them. “You alright, sweetheart?”

The sob escaped your lips before you knew it resided there, your eyes screwed shut as tears escaped. You couldn’t roll over to unpin your arm from your chest, your lungs couldn’t rise, and all you could see in your head was that room with the mold, the dirty sink, the bloody quilt, and the box you kept Mellie hidden in. Simon’s gentle rubs on your back did little to help, but it was something nonetheless. Nimble fingers tugged your hair from your face and curled it around your ear, soft words left his mouth as the sound of the bedroom door as it closed made you wince.

“It’s alright, love, you’re home.”

•••

He’s still breathing after you check for the hundredth time. A finger beneath Simon’s nose, his eyelashes fluttered as he dreamt peacefully. He’s tired, you can see it in the way he’s grown sluggish the past few days. Your fingertips ghosted over the bruise on his cheek from where you hit him in your sleep, believing he was your kidnapper and attacker then trying to fight him off. His left hand was settled on his chest, his right arm nestled around you unconsciously. Peace was only afforded at night when you were awake and watching him, crying under the moonlight when you look at all the scratches and bruises you leave on his body. He never deserved this kind of cruelty; it was one you had vowed to protect him from. Yet, the same could be said about him to you.

Your cold hand cradled his jaw, your head finally rested against the pillow again. It’d taken so much of your energy to stay awake, to try and fight the nightmares off, but as you watched your husband sleep, you wondered if you could too.

Except, your bedroom door creaked open and your head snapped to look at it. The shadowy figure held the handle with one hand, the other arm held a shadowy lump. Your hackles relaxed, knowing just how tall your daughter was and you reached an arm down the side of your bed.

“Daddy?”

“It’s just me awake, baby. Come here.”

Winnie shuffled herself into your room, you could recognize the silhouette of her favorite teddy under her arm as she took your hand. You could barely make out her face, but the moonlight reflected off of her tears. Instantly turning on your side, your hand brushed them away.

“What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?”

“You were yelling earlier.”

Your answer was immediate. “I just had a bad dream, Daddy took care of me.” An absent movement of your hand curled a lock of her hair around her ear. “I’m alright.”

She sniffled a little, her hand squeezed yours with urgency. “I had a bad dream too.”

Your heart sank, guilt began to gnaw again at your nearly empty insides. Soon it would have nothing left to digest. “C’mon, baby girl, lay up here with me.” You picked Winnie up with what strength you had left and pulled her into bed, nestled on your side. Simon needed his sleep, you decided, so you could handle this. Not that you have been lately, but you still could. Laying around and doing nothing for your children felt painful.

Winnie was quick to dig under the comforter and you nearly tucked her underneath it, and moved more towards Simon so she could have more space. Her hands gripped your loose shirt, her little face nestled on your shoulder and her bear uncomfortably shoved into your side.

“Did you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know… It was scary.”

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, “I’m sorry, baby. Was there a monster or was there-“

Her little hand reached up and touched your face, the numbness in your skin dissipated. “You were gone again, Mama, and-and I got really scared.” You met her eyes in the dim light, your hand brushed her tears away. Even now, you could see the true fear on your baby’s face.

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

A little cry came from her lips, “I thought you-you were gonna be like Mum Gr-Grace.”

The implosion of your heart in your stomach sounded like a thousand trains roaring right beside you, it made you nauseous. “No. No, baby, I’m not dying anytime soon. It seemed like it though, huh?”

A little nod.

“And I’m so sorry that it happened. Daddy did everything he could to keep us safe, but sometimes the bad guys are too sneaky. That’s how he got me and Mellie.”

“Uncle Koko got hurt.”

It wasn’t a good moment when König had come to see you in the hospital, his loud limp and hard time bending over. He had been shot three times in taking down a majority of the intruders and narrowly escaped death to try and protect you, which had failed. You had cried and apologized over and over, Simon squeezed your hand and the Colonel left swiftly. You cried for hours after that, sick to your stomach that he could have died for you - and it could have been in vain.

“I know. But he’s gonna be okay, just like me. I’m going to the therapist for help, you remember what a therapist is, right?”

“Yeah, they’re-they’re a doctor for your feelings.”

“Good job, duckling. And I’m getting better every day, even though I have those scary dreams too.” You took her chin in your grasp, “Winnie, I will be okay. It will take time, but I will be okay soon. Healing takes its time.”

“But… But what if Daddy gets taken too? What… What happens if Daddy can’t protect us anymore?”

“Well,” Your hand cradled her cheek as you rested your head against hers. “We have Uncle John, Soap, and Kyle. And if they can’t protect us anymore, I will. I protected your sister the same way I would protect you.”

“Then who protects you?”

“I will. Sometimes you don’t need anyone to protect you, but it’s nice to have it. It’s nice to know Daddy does everything he can.”

“But he…” Failed. Betrayed you. Left you to die.

“It was not Daddy’s fault, do you hear me? Get that out of your head. If he knew, it wouldn’t have happened.” You placed a kiss on her head. “You don’t need to think about that right now, Win. Your dream was just a dream, I’m home with you and Mellie and Daddy now. We can talk more about it in the morning, alright?”

Your daughter sniffled a little before she pulled her bear from between you, and tucked him into her elbow. “Promise?”

Your eyes fluttered shut, your nose nestled in her curls. “I promise. Go to sleep, Daddy and I’ll protect you.” Winnie nodded a little before she moved to kiss your hand.

Sleep didn’t evade you then, your dreams were fleeting and unmemorable.

•••

Almost every surface in your house is covered in flowers. Wives of soldiers who served under your husband sent them, Hell, even a few of the nice crystal vases came from König’s wife, Karo, with a beautiful handwritten note expressing her relief in your return and dismissal of your guilt. My husband does everything for his friends and their families, you are and will be no exception. The card is kept on the side of the fridge with a magnet from London.

Speaking of plants, you have three extra houseplants that come and go at all hours of the day. You were grateful for the basement, you didn’t have to displace your children so the 141 could operate out of your home. Instead, they worked out of your way; always checking in on you and your daughters, which were often met with a wave and a simple “I’m fine.” You were sure Price hasn’t seen the inside of his own house since this whole ordeal started. There was never a moment where you were alone, at least two of the task force stayed home with you. Simon hadn’t been alone in days, you’re sure of it. Taking you to and from base for the military funded therapy they so graciously provided you, you suspected he had pulled many strings to get you in somewhere as quickly as possible. It’s a toll on him, he liked to be alone sometimes and there was nowhere he could hide - not that he wanted to, it seemed. He always had to be near you, touch you, something to make sure his presence was known.

You knew it well. It wasn’t hard to miss Simon’s lurking if you tried, nor was it easy to ignore his tired and injured face. Winnie found it entertaining to decorate his scratches and bruises with her Hello Kitty bandaids and kisses pressed to them, to which he smiled after every one. She’s five and smart, the biggest heart you’ve ever seen, and it almost makes you sick just how much like Simon she is. Kind, caring, expressive, and an overall love bug. It made you excited to see if Mellie would be the same, or the baby.

That’s right. The baby.

A back burner topic that you couldn’t think about too often since everything else felt more important than your pregnancy, like your life or Mellie’s. Your hand settled on the plush of your stomach below your belly button, unknown to Simon. He hasn’t mentioned anything since they ran tests in the hospital. Maybe ignoring it would make it easier if you miscarried, which you were almost sure of when you were in that basement. There was a lot of blood and you… the blur of it made your head hurt. Mellie cried, you… You believed the baby wasn’t definite, even when the doctor told you it was - with twelve weeks under your belt to prove it. There was no point for it to stay when it had every reason to leave, when you had every reason to say it wasn’t safe for your family anymore.

Someone had added newborn diapers and clothes to the weekly grocery run by Kyle, they were both quick to hide them away as if it would set you off. You found your gaze rarely moving from the show on the TV, kept warm by your blanket and Mellie. Exhaustion crept in every moment but you fought it, you could barely eat, barely exist without help. The only thing you were good for now was comforting your children and overthinking to Hell and back.

Mellie sniffled against your chest, you looked down at her to see her swiping at her little eye. You were quick to brush her hair back, her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at you, tears in her eyes. A kiss to her forehead and she hummed contently, her hand going back to holding her pacifier that she continued to suck on. Just a quick glance to you always calmed her down and any attempt for Simon to hold her ended with ear-piercing screams. Sometimes you felt bad for him, for everything he’s enduring for the sake of taking care of the family - but the little itch in the back of your mind couldn’t care at all. The hour of need he vowed to be there for came and went with no sign of him until it was completely over and you had saved yourself. Saved the child you had without him, then his friends had saved you. Not him. And that betrayal felt like your teeth that chewed your nails down to the quick - harsh and painful.

His hand is on your ankle, his thumb rubbed tiny circles through the blanket and a part of you refused to acknowledge the comfort it provided. At least just for this moment, your husband was in no way a traitor but in the dark recesses of your mind, he was enemy number one - the most wanted man, ready to be hanged for his crimes as if he had stolen the crown jewels. The piece of innocence you once had was now shattered into a million pieces and the irrational side of your brain only had one person to blame.

The rational divide in your body craved the sanctuary of his presence, knowing there was nothing he could do - stuck on base, running interrogations in Price’s stead. He didn’t even know anything had happened until Price called him from the hospital, which a part of you was angry at Price for. The blame shifted like branches in the wind, one could not exist without the other.

The peaceful side of your body craved normalcy. The broken and bleeding side wanted to break your hand in the wall and scream at them until your throat became raw.

The gentle rubbing on your ankle turned to a soft pat, your eyes refocused on your husband as he leaned forwards, peering at you. Your face began to heat as he stared at you, like he was able to claw his way into your head and hear every word you said. “What?”

“You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re staring at me.”

A sigh escaped your nose. “Didn’t mean to.”

His head tilted just a little, a couple strands of hair fell away from his face as he began to study you for just a moment. He sighed too, gently rubbed your leg and looked down at Mellie. “Not nauseous or anythin’?”

Your hand instinctively went to Mellie’s back, your fingers splayed out as if to make her look smaller. “No, Simon.”

His body minutely moved back, he sat up straight and wiped at his nose. “M’gonna go shower. Be right back.” Simon quickly stood and walked away, but not without gently patting your head as he did.

His footfalls were replaced by the sound of the front door closing and heavy boots, you craned your neck to see Soap appear. The paper bags he had were shoved onto the counter, he ripped his hood off of his head and wiped his eyes, blinked a few times, then looked at you. “It’s pishin’ a doon out there.” A slight tilt to your head and he sighed, “It’s raining very hard.”

“Why didn’t you say that then?”

“Ah did.” A chuckle left his lips as he peeled off his coat, placing it on the counter. “Ye 'n' yer Simon are too alike.”

“Why?”

Soap began to dig in the bags, “Ye both ask too many questions. Him more than ye, since I like ye more than ah do him.”

You hummed, your gaze moved down to Mellie again. She’d gotten bigger since the incident and her stay in the PICU; the cold didn’t hurt her much, thanks to the flannel you wrapped around her, as well as how fast Price and his small temporary team found her and then you. The image of the rock face still hadn’t left your nightmares and neither had Price’s terrified scream for a medic.

Sometimes it felt like he was your only friend in this birdcage that was once your home. The only one who understood because he was there, he wrapped up your injuries as they bled and oozed, he stared at what you did to your kidnapper. He saved your child’s life, he saved yours, and ferociously defended his decision to keep Simon in the dark. Price was your friend. Sometimes you hated him too.

A pan clanged against the stove and you flinched, Mellie grumbled a loud and angry, “Mama.”

You pulled the blanket farther up her back, even when it freed your freezing feet. “Sorry, honey. Go back to sleep.”

She shook her head, her button nose pressed awkwardly into your chest before she looked up at you. “Seep?”

You knew better than to get her to nap on you, a particular little thing she was. It took a lot of energy to push yourself up and stand, all while still holding Mellie. The tingling in your hands grew worse with every moment, so you needed to get her upstairs to bed before you could accidentally drop her.

No, you wouldn’t drop her. You can’t drop her. She can’t walk, she can’t do much of anything other than babble, she can’t…

You inhaled through your nose before breathing out. The pungent smell of the candle in the kitchen invaded your nostrils, it made you nearly gag at the smell you once loved. You remembered lighting it that night, you remembered…

“Are ye excited for the parties?”

A look to the kitchen was met with a smiling Soap, your eyebrows furrowed and your chin instantly tucked into Mellie’s hair. The bags were gone, he was starting to cook something.

“Parties?”

He held out a spatula towards you, pointed down towards your daughter. There was no look of confusion on his face, only excitement. “Mel’s birthday party and the baby shower. We’ve been workin’ on ‘em for the past few weeks-“

“Johnny.” Simon’s voice echoed from the stairs as he suddenly made his presence known, quickly shucking on an old black t-shirt.

Soap, the ever present beacon of excitement, chirped, “Hi, LT, I’m makin’ dinner-“

But you didn’t even look at Johnny when he spoke, your eyes bored holes into Simon’s wet hair. “I didn’t know you were throwing parties for that.”

Simon’s glare was harsh before it moved to you, softening immediately. “I was going to tell you when you were feelin’ better.”

Feeling better. Feeling better? For fuck’s sake. You’ve been ushered around this house like a 98-year-old grandma with a fall risk, you just minorly damaged your hands and one of your legs, you were fine. Why couldn’t they see you were fine? Price could. Price was your friend, he could see you were fine. Why couldn’t the rest of them? Why doesn’t Simon know? Why does it seem like he doesn’t know anything?

Your voice instantly rose, anger fire balled at him. “You know I don’t like surprises, Simon!” Does he? Does he know? What does he know?

He winced a little, his hand outstretched as he slowly walked towards you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be upset since you were-“

Think. Know. Understand. Notice. Does he do those things?

“That’s the problem.”

No.

“Come again?”

If he did, he’d have noticed the way you leaned back a little, half a step away as he grew closer. He would have noticed the way you held Mellie tighter, the way she squawked in annoyance as you did. He should have noticed the rage in you.

“I said, that is the problem.”

“What is?”

“You don’t think. You never think! Of course I’m not gonna get better with the lot of you hovering over me! I can do things on my own, I’m strong enough! I’ve been fine for weeks!”

Simon was a strong man, he didn't back down. That you knew, you expected his quick quip, “Your doctor said you should be takin’ it easy, love, that’s why-“

“I’m not weak, Simon! I’m passing all the tests with flying colors!” Spit flew from your mouth, your fingers gripped Mellie’s onesie like it was a lifeline.

You stared at Simon with wide eyes, ones that threatened tears. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the bruises you accidentally left him look so much worse in the light of the window. At any other moment, the sight of what you did to him would’ve made you look away. Now, you stared at him, made him look at you and what his broken promises have done to you.

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I don’t need your fucking help! I didn’t before and I don’t now!”

“What the Hell do you mean by that?”

“You know what?” You looked towards Soap in the kitchen, who seemed to look frozen by your gaze, his eyes wide and shocked. “Thanks, Johnny, but I’m not hungry anymore. I’m going upstairs.”

“Sweetheart-“ His hand grabbed your wrist without warning, the one that held Mellie’s back. You almost instantly screeched as your brain went into shutdown - protect Mellie, protect her, protect her-

“Don’t touch me!” Simon ripped it from your wrist so quickly that it almost took you with him, but you kept your balance and held your squirming toddler closer to your chest. The air in your throat constricted, you struggled to breathe as you whimpered, “Don’t… Don’t touch me. Stop.”

Simon shrunk to a size that was too much like a man you didn’t know, a shadow of something inside his brain that made him seem like a frightened child. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t care at that moment. That little itch in the back of your mind became a gaping gash, and you could only see him as the man who let you get hurt. Who chose his work over your child’s life. Over yours. By God, you were allowed to be angry now. Your jaw clicked with how hard you pressed it together.

“Don’t.”

[ettraxx]

Kidnapped 3

The dying light of the evening accompanies the strong burst of cool salty air. Lena refuses to allow herself a respite before they can fully escape. She scans the corrugated metal roof looking for any other kidnappers. She glares down the sights of the riffle her finger trained and ready.

She sees no one in their immediate vicinity, and relaxes slightly. Turning to look at Kara she spots a glint of metal in her hand. The blonde smiles nervously and holds up the doorknob in her hand. Lena glances to the door and sees the surprisingly perfect break.

“I guess the door was worse for the wear than the stairs.” Chuckles Kara nervously. “Hopefully that might buy us a minute.”

“Convenient.” Responds Lena barely above a whisper.

She recognizes the faint shudder from Kara in response to her words. With the added noise of the wind, it could be almost impossible for Kara to hear her. If not for the rest of the evening’s events, maybe she could have dismissed it as the chill of the air. Maybe. Before she could find the words to broach the subject the radio chirped once again.

“Hans, they got out!” Responds the voice of a woman in her mid twenties. “They locked Karl in the cage and bent up the lock. I can’t see em on the cameras.”

“Damn it Marko!” Responds the man the heard before. “They didn’t get out through one of the doors, that leaves… the roof! Get up there after them! Theo, Uli, get your eyes on the roof!”

Lena instinctively reaches for Kara once more and pulls her to the far end of the roof. Kara follows never more than half a step behind. A pair of shots ring out, and the sound of ricochet’s cries out from around them. Kara actually throws her self on top of Lena to protect her.

“Idiots!” Shouts Hans over the radio. “I said eyes on them, not bullets in them! They are useless to us dead!”

Kara scrambled off of Lena and looked her up and down. The woman had literally thrown herself at Lena playing human shield. And here she is acting like her safety doesn’t matter. Lena wanted to yell at her, scream that she isn’t worth this kind of reckless behavior.

But as soon as emerald eyes meet cerulean, she can’t maintain her anger. To her surprise, her thick glasses fell off, and for the first time she is looking in to those eyes unobstructed. As she looked deeper and deeper, she started to think something impossible. The smile that Lara flashed her, stalls her mind until the banging on the roof door snaps her back to the present.

Kara reluctantly pulls herself from Lena and helps her back to her feet. Once more Lena’s eyes scan the roof and surrounding buildings. The nearest buildings are too far to reach, and behind the building is a short pier, before the ocean. If they are very lucky, and the wind was at their backs instead of in their faces, they might make the jump.

A series of slow and heavy thuds against the roof door tell her that it won’t last much longer. Lena contemplates just shooting through the incoming Marko. But two snipers with itchy trigger fingers, are too great of a risk. Instead she positions herself between Kara and the door. Her right arm extended out telegraphing her plan.

“Lena, you don’t have to protect me.” Sighs Kara her hand resting on Lena’s shoulder.

“Just like you didn’t need to shield me from sniper fire, darling.” Counters Lean with a smirk that Kara couldn’t see.

“Lena, answer me one question.” Sighs Kara loud enough for the raven haired CEO. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” Answers Lena not missing a beat.

“Good.” Sighs Kara, wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist.

As the roof door finally tears open, Lena is pulled back with impossible strength. The soft and powerful arms around her lifting her as if she was a doll. Lena watches the roof fall away as she tumbles over the side. A decidedly familiar sensation of weightlessness overcomes her as she is pulled over the edge of the pier.

In a matter of seconds she is spun under the thick wooden beams of the warehouse. Somehow Kara manages to spin her around, and her back is held by the strongest hands on earth. Her eyes are staring into Kara’s once more but now she recognizes the eyes of Supergirl’s too. Kara’s distinctive ponytail suddenly looks almost silly on her.

“Well, I guess I can understand why you never thought about dating Supergirl.” Breathes out Lena trying not to scream. “You are most definitely not that narcissistic.”

*****

[seenoversundown]

For Death Or Glory : Chapter Thirteen

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (a small amount of masturbation) Alcohol / Drinking, Suggestive conversations, dicking around on the job, Mentions of Sexual preferences, Flirting, Fluff, terrible dad jokes, and unfortunate amounts of pirate comments.

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Jake is still reeling from the events of the night before, when Charlotte rolls up with a wonderful proposition that he could NEVER refuse. Leading them into a fun game that helps him get through the rest of the night.

Author's Note: THE GAMES HAVE BEGUN. They really are so precious and watching them learn how to interact with each other has me giggling and kicking my feet. (even though I'm quite literally in charge of them 💀) Can't wait to hear how you guys feel after this one!! 💕😍

Bathroom Light - Mt Joy "So, come on, baby, let's do this right, I think I like falling in love in the bar bathroom light."

“I feel like we should talk.” 

Not my favorite thing she’s said to me, if we’re being honest. Charlotte’s leant against the doorframe to my office, her hands are busy playing with the dainty rings she has on. 

“Okay,” I say, “you can come all the way into the room though.” She scurried in, shutting the door quietly behind her. 

“I don’t know how to say this,” she starts, sounding timid, which is unusual for her. 

I can’t stop myself from speaking up, “Did I overstep?” 

“Oh my god, no. No, not at all,” she spits out. “I actually.. um.” She looks back down at her hands, a small grin grows on her face. 

My eyebrow pops up, waiting for her, “What?” Comes out with a slight laugh. 

“Maybe we could be friends who, like..” her face turning red as she whispers, “maybe hook up sometimes..” 

We’re friends? She wants to - with me? I- oh my god. 

“Oh,” I can hardly form words with the speed my brain is moving at, “Oh, uh, we can. Yes. I would be okay with that.” My eyes finally met hers, knowing full well that I probably look far too excited. 

“Really?” 

I watch her chew the inside of her lip and see her hands shake slightly, which honestly makes me feel a bit better. At least I'm not the only one who gets nervous. I reach out, grabbing one of her hands with both of mine, which gets her to look back at me. 

“Really,” I say quietly, “Whatever you're comfortable with.” Finally standing up from my desk, she just looks at me, and I can’t quite tell what's going on inside that pretty little head of hers. 

Suddenly her arms are wrapped around my neck in a hug, catching me off guard. I let my arms sit around her waist as she lets out the sweetest little laugh next to my ear. 

“You’re sure about this?” she asks, leaning back to look at me. I get to spend more time with her and possibly get laid once in a while? YEAH, I THINK I’M SURE. 

“You can be the Captain of this ship,” I tell her, choking back a laugh as hard as I can. 

She does not; she drops her head, leaning against me as she barks out a laugh. Her small frame just shook against me, but at least this time, it was happy. 

Still laughing, she looks back up at me, “You’re so dumb,” she manages to get out before leaning forward to press a sweet kiss on my lips. I could get used to that.  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I didn’t anticipate the torture that I would endure after that conversation, having to be around her in the bar and stay normal about it. She already made me feel on edge, in a good way, before the last twenty-four hours, but now it’s ungodly how tense my body feels. 

I try to spend as much time cleaning and talking to the regulars that have come in, but I continuously find myself looking at her. I just want to talk to her. 

I pull out my phone, quickly type out a message, and slide it under the bar in front of me. 

Me: so.. does this mean I can just.. kiss you if we’re not around people?

My hands sweat at the thought, but god, what I’d give to kiss her again right now. I glance over as she picks her phone up, seeing the smirk creep onto her face. Looking around the bar to see if anybody might need something until my phone lights up. 

Charlotte: I'd like that. 🤭

Charlotte: You have a pretty mouth, so I think we should. 

Feeling warm at the compliment. A pretty mouth? I had been told on a multitude of occasions that I’m a bit more feminine, but given that my counterpart is Josh, who keeps his hair short and has facial hair, I don’t think I had much of a fighting chance. But I’ve never been complimented like that before, and I think I liked it.  

Me: play along 

I walk over to where she’s sitting, and her eyebrows pull in for a second looking at me. Sliding carefully behind Mel and Josh, I lean against the bar facing her. 

“Can you come with me? I need your opinion on if something is up to code,” I tell her, my voice at a normal volume but giving her a slow wink. 

“Oh, absolutely,” she replies, “Mel, I’ll be right back.” 

I meet her at the end of the bar, gesturing toward the hallway and leading her to our cooler. Once we’re out of sight, sticking my hand out behind me for her which she immediately grabs. We round the corner into the back room, and I turn to face her, pulling her into me. Tilting her chin up with my free hand, seeing her smile as I do. 

“Hi,” she mumbles, pressing a kiss against my lips. 

Letting out a small ‘mmm’ as my arms rest around her waist, “Let me just—“ Leaning in, noticing the way she doesn’t actually close her eyes. She just watches my mouth. Feeling her hands find their place on my stomach as I take her bottom lip between mine, making my heart shake. I wonder what makes her feel like this. Pulling my arms back slightly, letting my hands hold her waist, lightly squeezing her when I feel her hands grab my shirt. That must be something. 

“So, about that opinion,” I whisper into her, making her giggle. She reaches up, wiping the smudge of lipstick she left on me, and my stomach turns at how gentle she is.

Her eyes slowly look up, meeting my stare as she lets out a quiet, “I think that exceeds the standard, for sure.” 

We both hear footsteps in the hall; backing away from her quickly and folding my arms across my chest as she nods when Mel rounds the corner into the cooler.

“Jake, the POS is living up to its name.. Can you help?” she rolls her eyes, clearly frustrated. 

“Shit, yeah, I’ll be right there.” 

We both watch as Mel quickly turns, leaving the room looking fairly defeated. Standing there in silence for a matter of a few seconds before we both let out a quiet laugh. 

“I guess I need to do my job,” I whisper to her, making her smile. She turns to face me, fixing my shirt for me and moving a rogue hair back into place. Her hands linger on my chest as she looks at me, which only makes the butterflies in my stomach go wild. 

The smirk on her face is killing me when she says, “Go save them, boss man.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bar continued to get busier, making it harder and harder for me to not actually do my job. Almost as if flirting with pretty girls isn’t in my job description or something. Stealing little glances at her any chance I could while we quietly texted each other random things. 

Charlotte: You have to stop looking at me like that 

I grab the empty glasses from a table, walking back towards the bar but sneaking up behind her. 

“Like what?” I whisper next to her ear, setting the glasses on the bar top in front of her. Giggling as she jumps slightly, scowling at me, but that doesn’t stop my stare. It would be easier if she wasn’t gorgeous. My eyes fell between her lips and holding eye contact.  

“That,” she whispers back, “whatever that is.”  She leans into her hand while the other falls into her lap. 

“You don’t like it?” I ask, forcing myself to stay focused on her eyes. Leaning onto the bar next to her, letting my hand hang over the edge. 

She smiled softly, “No, it’s terrible,” oozing with sarcasm fell from her lips, feeling her hand graze mine. 

My head tilts slightly as my eyebrows raise, “and why is that, honey?” I whisper, pulling my bottom lip in with my teeth, watching as her face flushes. 

Forcing myself to back up, grabbing the glasses as I go, what I wouldn't give to just spend the night with her instead? 

Me: do you like being called honey? 

I set my phone under the bar, pouring a few drinks for the regulars sitting there, trying not to look over at her, but it’s impossible. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see her pulling up her phone. What if she hates it? 

Charlotte: Mmmm I might 🤭

I'll never be sure what possessed me to call her that the first time. I've always just used ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’ because they feel safe and really can’t be taken too out of context. Also, to be entirely honest, I typically don’t get far enough with a girl to give her a cuter pet name than those.  It just sort of came out when I saw her start to melt down, and it’s stuck. 

Charlotte: Do you like that I use your full name? 

Her sweet voice calling me ‘Jacob’ plays in my head on a loop, so it’s safe to say I don’t mind it. Although, the way she called me ‘baby’ made me want to crawl out of my skin. She had me wrapped around her finger in that moment.  

Me: you can call me whatever your heart desires 

I looked over at her, saw her smile at the response, and quickly started to type. This game of twenty questions is definitely making tonight go by a little faster. 

Charlotte: That doesn’t really roll off the tongue nicely- I think I’ll stick with calling you by name or baby 😉

I audibly laugh at her text, unprepared for her to get me with a classic dad joke. It was almost enough to distract me from the last part, but no such luck as my heart fluttered at the pet name. I could go for hearing that a little more often. Wandering over towards her, I lean down as I grab the glass from in front of her and whisper, “You’re more than welcome to slip a ‘Captain’ in the mix as well, yknow?” 

She leans into her hand, propped up on the bar, “So, you do like that, huh?” 

“Felt a little different coming out of you,” I tell her, shrugging as I back up a little and biting the inside of my lip as she watches me. 

Her eyes rake down me before letting out a quiet, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I help Josh for a few minutes, pouring a handful of drinks for some regulars and running to grab orders from a few of the new tables that just came in. Rounding back behind the bar, I slide my phone out of my pocket quickly. 

Me: since we’re doing this- do you have questions or shall I continue 

Tossing my phone under the bar, turning to wash a handful of glasses for them. I try to just focus on what I’m doing. But I just want to pay attention to her. I turn around as I’m drying and putting away the glasses, doing my best to scan the room for anybody who may need anything. My eyes fixate on her as she sets her phone down and looks over at me. I pick up my pace drying, sliding the glasses onto their shelf quickly so I can grab my phone, needing to know what she said. 

Charlotte: I’m assuming you’re a physical touch person? 

Me: you would be correct but I’d like to say I can cover all the bases if you like something else more. 

I’ve always been a touch person, especially given that I’ve spent my whole life with Josh. He can’t go two seconds without grabbing your arm if he’s telling you something. So, it’s definitely something I’d developed over time and also suffered from; the lack of physical touch I’ve had in the last couple of years is contributing to the urge to ask her every two minutes to meet me somewhere hidden. Even though I would do whatever she prefers, I just hope she enjoys physical touch because I don’t know how I’m supposed to avoid it. 

Charlotte: Oh, touch is near the top with words of affirmation for me, so I think you’re doing just fine 

Knowing she likes words of affirmation makes my stomach knot up, the amount of things I’ve held back because I don’t want to overwhelm her. But I’ll tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen every day if she’ll let me. Despite the fact she was just being open, I decided to test the waters on this situation we’ve put ourselves in. 

Me: soo.. does that mean you like to be..reassured or no?

Hitting send, I immediately feel like I’m sweating. I pour a few beers waiting for her reply, hoping that she knows what I meant and that she doesn’t take back everything she said in my office today. 

Charlotte: A little praise never hurt anybody.

I whip my head over to her, and my hand wipes over my mouth as she smiles at me. The fact I’m blushing over the answer to the question I asked feels ridiculous. Why did I think this was a good idea? Making eye contact with someone at the bar who wants to order, I walk over to them. Taking their order and turning to grab all the bottles needed for it, I slide my phone from my pocket, setting it on the counter as she texts me again.  

Charlotte: Do you always like to be the Captain? Or do you like to let others assist? 

My eyes shut while I take a deeper breath; why is she doing this to me? Forcing myself to focus on mixing their drink, but my brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. She did have a little dominant streak in her yesterday. I grab a napkin and bring the drink back over to them, nodding as they thank me. 

‘All for me, baby?’ plays in my head, and I guess I had never thought about preferences like that before. Most girls I had been with at this point wanted nothing to do with being in control. I also was typically not the most sober in these instances, so it’s debatable how dominant I even was. They just wanted me to do the work, which in the grand scheme, was fine. 

The way that she wants to have control makes my body tingle. Something about the idea of her telling me what she wants me to do is kind of hot. She basically had me begging for her yesterday, so maybe I’m a bit more submissive than I thought. I get head one time, and I’m reflecting on my entire sex life. Jesus Christ, chill out. 

Me: I’ll gladly let you steer anyday, don’t have to ask twice 

I wipe down the back counter, reorganizing a bit, anything to keep my brain from spiraling out of control over her. I wash some glasses in painfully hot water in hopes that it’ll prevent anything uncomfortable from happening to me while I’m just trying to get through this shift with her. 

After a few minutes of torture, I pick up my phone again. 

Charlotte: In that case, meet me in the bathroom? 

I’ve never replied faster.

Me: 🫡  ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Couldn’t wait any longer?” Winking at her as I lock the door behind me. 

Her smile is devious as she runs her hands up my chest, “When you look like this? Not at all.” Tugging me closer by my shirt, tilting her head back as I lean in to kiss her. 

All I can think is how lucky I am that I’m in this weird little situation with her. The fact that she’s communicating things to me, even if we’re doing it in a kind of vague way, makes me feel a little more confident with anything that’s potentially going to happen. 

Pulling away from the kiss for a second, I gently move some hair away from her face, just taking her in. My other hand is holding her lower back, keeping her close. The way she’s looking at me makes my heart pound. 

“Can I ask you something while we're here?” I mumble, watching her eyebrows pull together. 

“Obviously.” 

“I just want to hear your response to this one,” I start. “Can you promise me that if I say or do something that you don’t like, you’ll tell me?” 

Her eyes softened at the question. Her hands grabbed the sides of my face as she pressed a soft peck against my lips.

“Of course, I will. Promise.” 

“I never want to make you uncomfortable,” I mumble against her, “okay?” 

Her soft laugh against my lips before pressing a few sweet kisses into me, I swear this girl could get me to fold so easily. 

“You really are something, Jacob.” 

My stomach flips as the sentence leaves her lips. My heartbeat felt stronger than before, and my mouth basically ran dry; what is she doing to me? The look in her eyes as we stared at each other in the subtle glow of the light, even after the past few days, I’d be lying if I said she didn’t still make me nervous. Every kiss makes it feel like there are fireworks in my chest and a ton of excited butterflies in my stomach; my entire body gets warm, and I have to fight the slight tremor in my hands, so she doesn’t know. But god, this girl has me stumbling over myself every day.

“What if we just stay in here for the rest of the night?” I whisper into her.

Her hands slid down onto my stomach, “I think they might notice we’ve disappeared.” 

“Unfortunate, innit?” the English accent sneaking out of me, making her laugh. If that’s all it takes, I’ll use it more. “Why don’t you go back out there first? I’ll go to the backroom first, so it’s more convincing.” 

“Sounds like a plan, Captain,” she winks as she pats my stomach and then quickly sneaks out the door. Leaving me there, speechless, staring at the door for a moment. I think I just tripped.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

I hid in the backroom for a few minutes, bringing out a handful of things to restock with. I try to wipe the smile off my face when I can feel her eyes on me. I have Mel run to the tables and get some drink orders taken care of; she’s been trapped behind the bar all night, at least get her a few minutes of a new scenery. 

It feels nice to make drinks mindlessly for customers sometimes. The muscle memory starts to kick in, and I can just go for a while. It’s just a bonus having Charlotte sitting at the end of the bar, intently watching every move I make.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching Melody?” I tease, sliding a drink to her. 

Her hands rake through her curls, softly laughing as she says, “Well, she isn’t making drinks right now, is she?” 

“So you’re making sure I know what I’m doing then?”

“Something like that,” she says, biting her lip subtly. The goosebumps erupt on my arms instantly when she does that. 

Folding my arms across my chest, I look at her to ask, “Anything notable?” 

She slides her paper out for a second, quickly tucking it away so I can’t see what she’s written down. Sneaky little thing.

“You seem good.. with your hands,” she tilts her head slightly, slowly blinking at me. I can’t stop myself from smirking at the comment. I had noticed before that she watched my hands, but nothing was more validating than that comment. 

I step closer to the bar, leaning towards her a little so I can whisper, “Guess you’ll have to find out.” I watch her jaw slack at my comment, chuckling to myself. Seeing her flustered makes me feel less insane for being so antsy all night. The way she shifts in her seat as I look at her, I don’t think someone has ever reacted to my stare like this before. 

We spend the rest of Mel’s shift making unbearably tense eye contact, which makes me want to get her alone even more. She stayed for a little longer after Melody left, but I practically begged her to get home before it was too late. Something about the thought of her trying to drive in the Old Port when all the late-night bargoers are out just makes me nervous. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After what has seemingly become our nightly routine of walking her to her car, with the new bonus of getting to kiss her before she leaves, I’m met with an empty apartment. 

She won’t be home for a little bit. I pull open the fridge staring mindlessly, realizing that I’m not even really hungry. Taking the opportunity since Josh isn’t home, I wander into the bathroom, starting the shower. 

I stood under the hot water, letting it beat against me for a moment. My brain runs rampant with thoughts of her, still unable to process that she’s giving me any time, let alone wanting to spend more time with me. 

My eyes close as I think of the way she touches me; her hands are so delicate, and she’s so careful. Her hands always find a spot on my chest or stomach when she kisses me. Grabbing fistfuls of my shirt when we make out. Her lips though— those are something to write home about. God, I really was touch starved. 

My heart flutters at the thought of her kiss and how good it felt with her. Even when she was just leaving tiny pecks down my neck, I swear I could get goosebumps just from the memory. It had been so long since I even had the option I forgot how exciting it was. 

The thought of her sitting on my lap, her hands tangled into my hair, god. I feel the twitch, trying to ignore it. No, don’t be weird, Jake. Just think about something else. Rinsing the shampoo out of my hair and trying to refocus, but all I can hear in my head is, “all for me, baby?” A small groan comes from me, and I can’t stop myself from sliding my cock through my fist to relieve some of the tension. 

Her lips wrapped around me, the way she seemed like she was enjoying it, and her little moans as she slid me as deep into her mouth as she could. 

“Fuck,” I mutter, stroking myself a little faster. The visual of her on her knees for me has me reaching out to hold myself up. How is she real?

My hips jerked forward as I heard her voice in my head saying, “Come on, Captain.” 

Another moan sneaks out, my eyes fixed shut at this point, wishing she were here. God, she was so good. The way she swirled her tongue around me, her hair wrapped around my fist. Her green eyes look up at me as she takes just about all of me into her mouth, holy shit, I’m–.

“Fuck me, Charlotte,” I quietly groan as my orgasm washes over me. The water is hardly even warm at this point, while I frantically clean myself off to avoid a cold shower— that’s five minutes too late. 

Tapping my phone as I’m drying myself off. One Missed Call. Unlocking it instantly, seeing her name sitting there, I call her back with no hesitation. Is she okay? She hasn’t called me until she’s home before. 

“Hiii,” her soft voice dances around in my ear. 

“Hey, are you okay?” I spit out, knowing I probably sound insane. 

“Oh! Yes, everything’s fine! I'm just still driving,” she replies; a sigh of relief escapes me, grateful that she’s okay. Until all my nerves come flooding back when she says, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

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[sl-newsie]

Proud To Be American (Dr. Spencer Reid x OC Coworker)

Summary: A BAU coworker is feeling down after a less-than-exciting 4th of July and Spencer schemes with the team to try and cheer them up.

“Welcome back!” 

Penelope gives a big wave and the rest of the BAU joins in from where they’re standing at their desks. Usually I join in with their back-to-work celebrations but my holiday weekend didn’t go exactly as planned. 

“Hey, guys.” My attempt to sound optimistic slides by Garcia but the profilers pick up on it right away.

“You alright, girlie?” Morgan asks. “Where’s your patriotic spirit?”

I walk past their section of the office to the break room. Sorry everyone but I’d rather just get through this Monday without wishing my plans weren’t interrupted. 

“Hi?”

At least there’s one person who can lift my spirits.

“Hello, Dr. Reid. How was your weekend? See any fireworks?”

The kind man offers a cup of lemonade. He’s only been here a few seconds and I’m already forgetting about why I’m upset.

“Actually I didn’t do much for Independence Day,” Reid replies. “I took the time to catch up on some reading and watched some TV.”

“Oh? And how many books did you get through this time? Twenty?”

“Thirty five, actually.” His gaze narrows and I can feel him analyzing me. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

There’s no trying to lie to him. Even if I refuse to say anything he’ll pry it out eventually.

“I- Everything changed.” I take a sip of lemonade and let its sour sweetness trickle down my throat. “Last weekend I was supposed to celebrate with my family. You know, the usual barbeque. Swimming, watching fireworks. But then some family drama happened and I spent the weekend stuck going through furniture.” Another sip. “Not exactly how I wanted to spend my holiday weekend. Instead of watching fireworks I reminisced through old memories.”

“Reid!”

Spencer looks back where Hotch is calling his team to the bullpen. 

“I’ll catch you before we head out,” Reid says and walks off to the meeting.

I appreciate all that they do but each case does take its toll. Every time Spencer comes back there’s always something new. Another death. Since I only work in the office I never see any carnage. He’s thanked me before for giving him an excuse to talk about things other than work.

The new case must have little to discuss because the meeting’s already over. Prentiss and Morgan walk past my desk to grab coffee and JJ’s already going through paperwork.

“Hey!” Spencer comes over and bounces on his feet. “This case is only a few hours away. When we’re done Rossi is planning on having a small get-together at his place. Wanna join us?”

“She is joining us,” Rossi speaks for me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “No Fourth of July celebration? We’ll fix that.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, no. That’s not-”

“You need some of my Nero d’Avola. You prefer wine, correct?”

This man is so Italian it’s not even funny. “Yes, sir. But it’s really-”

“Wonderful! You’re going.”

He walks off to join Hotch. Reid and I exchange looks.

“Guess I’m going,” I shrug. “Did you put him up to this?”

Spencer shakes his head. “I just told them why you were feeling upset and he suggested a party.”

“Party? You said this was a ‘small get-together!’”

“Yes. You, me, and the rest of the team. It’s always a party when Rossi is hosting.”

The doctor gives me one last smile and grabs his satchel before heading to the door. 

“I’ll await your triumphant return, Dr. Reid! Good luck.”

Good fortune does smile upon the BAU because the case is closed in a matter of days. The second the team walks back through the office Reid heads straight to my desk.

“Ready for tonight?”

I smile and start putting away today’s documents. “That's all I’ve been thinking about!” And you too. 

A pair of hands grabs my shoulders and suddenly Penelope is steering me out.

“Time to clock out. Let’s go!”

Half an hour later and I’m literally forced to sit down in a lawn chair. Everyone's still in the Fourth of July spirit because we're all wearing star-spangled swim attire. It’s how I imagined a party with the BAU would look. Hotch and Rossi watching everyone like concerned dads. Morgan and Garcia having a drinking session. Prentiss and JJ sunbathing. And of course Spencer telling me all about a new topic. Today’s is the danger of sun rays. 

“Exposure to sun increases melanin, which causes darker skin. Thus creating a sun tan. Too much sun exposure is an easy cause for melanoma. Everyone should wear sunscreen regardless of skin color.” He picks up my tube of sunscreen and examines the contents. Then- And then pats up my arm. 

“Wh-What are you doing?” We both notice my arm tense up.

“Seeing if you rubbed it in thoroughly,” Reid explains. “Then it won’t wash off in the pool.”

Hm. I know he’s not exactly the most touch-friendly person in the world. So this must be a thoughtful gesture for his standards.

“Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate it.”

It’s no secret to the team that I consider Spencer more than a friend. But the key secret they don’t know is that a month ago we both finally broke down and went on what some would call an interview. We call it a date. It went very smoothly and we both agreed to begin a reasonable courtship without massive commitment. I guess that’s transitioned to worrying about my skin care.

“Is this what young people do?” I ask out loud, looking out at the team. “Hang out with other young people on sporadic occasions?”

“Yes.”

“Hm. I think I skipped that part.” Spencer laughs and I nudge his shoulder. “Hey! You have an excuse. You were graduating college when I was graduating high school! My lame excuse is that I like hanging out at home too much.”

“Speaking of which, when should we discuss meeting arrangements?” Spencer asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean do we hang out only at your place, my place, both places? We could maybe do a colored chart or specific weekly pattern-”

“Let me pause you right there.” I hold up a hand. “Spencer, your organization skills are next to perfect. But we don’t have to have everything planned by the book. Feel free to stop by whenever you like.”

His chocolate eyes have never looked so bright. “Oh, thanks! I was worried our relationship might be too sporadic, with my job taking me all over the country, and didn’t think-”

“Hey guys!” Morgan waves from across the yard. “Get over here!”

A smile spreads onto Reid’s face and he grabs my hand. “This is the best part.”

I’m pulled to the other side of the pool and there’s a lounge chair set up for me.

“What’s this for?”

“Just wait!” Penelope giggles and refills my glass.

What on Earth? “Wait. Where’s Hotch-?”

Kaboom! Weeee! Boom!

A palette of colors explodes across the darkening sky. Sparklers, firecrackers, fountains, roman candles! 

“Oh my goodness!” I gawk at the magnificent patriotic display.

“We’re part of the FBI!” Rossi shouts over the noise.

“Of course we can find ways to obtain fireworks!” Hotch adds.

I turn around and the BAU leader steps out from behind the fence.

“Happy Independence Day!” Prentiss and JJ cheer.

Reid squeezes my hand and I’m still staring at the awe-inspiring explosions in the sky.

“You did this for me?” 

“Everyone deserves to celebrate being an American,” Morgan inputs. “She’s our employer! And what better way than to legally blow stuff up?”

“Thank you all so much!” I gush. “This is amazing!” 

Spencer leans in and whispers: “What do you say to watching The Patriot with commentary at your place afterwards?”

All disappointment from last weekend is obliterated. “It’s a date!”

Hotch disappears again and another round of fireworks lights up the sky. 

Boom! Wizzz! Ka-bang!

"And I'm proud to be an American...!" Morgan begins to belt loudly.

God bless this country!

[padfootastic]

Also incredibly sad that what other anon pointed out is true. Potter inner circle = marauders because lily was just. never given any friends other than snape? Are we supposed to believe that if they had a fallout in their 5th/6th year Lily just didn't befriend any of the other students in her year? What was she DOING between graduating from Hogwarts and dying? Are we supposed to believe that Lily (whose only screentime was 1. yelling at boys in her year and 2. defying voldy himself) was just sitting at home twiddling her thumbs while her bf and his friends tried to safe the world? We know that she went to meetings cause of that picture Moody showed Harry. Did she not make ANY friends?? you cannot convince me Lily didn't have at least one close friend by the time she and James had to go into hiding. jkr i'm in your walls and spiteful

god EXACTLY!! lily literally only exists as a trigger for james’ maturity and that’s just. so offensively ridiculous i refuse to touch it with a twenty five feet pole. i just cannot. the deification of lily must stop!!! she was more than just the Sacrificial Mother!!! (we do not know what ofc but she had to have been)

my personal hc is that lily spent years alienating her housemates and other muggleborns/halfbloods but even that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t have friends, especially after she cut things off w snape. and the order? war leads to strong bonds,,,,where are hers? the whole thing is just so sad man.

[sunlightmurdock]

katie, do u have any thots about tip rooster and hawaii babe ? literally anything pls i miss them so much 😭

hear me out hear me out… in a universe where Trouble in Paradise Rooster made good decisions, there’s this one night where he has managed to get on her nerves about something minor. So, she tells him that the only way he can make it up to her is to come dancing with her and her friends.

Of course, he feels a little awkward about it, but he goes — because she asked him to. Even worse, he agrees to be designated driver.

And she is on her absolute worst behaviour, all night. Grinding up against him, giving his cock a gentle squeeze through his jeans every time she leans against him to give him a kiss.

She markets it as a good thing when everyone decides to throw an after party at her place. Rooster will only have to drive everyone back to her house instead of to their own homes — that’s a good thing. But, she knows that he wants nothing more than to get her alone and she’s playing on it.

Refusing to go to bed once she gets home, instead planting herself down on the couch in the living room, perched against his knee. She giggles with her friends for almost an hour, trailing her fingertips discreetly along the inseam of his jeans. Finally, she asks if anybody wants another drink and is met with a round of eager yeses.

“Roo, come give me a hand.” She’s slipping her palm into his and tugging him up with her, pulling him down along the hallway and closing the kitchen door behind her.

“Are you having a good night?” Rooster asks, stretching his arms up above his head as he waits by the door for her to finish pouring drinks.

“The best.” She answers, grinning with amusement. “How about you?”

“Yeah, baby,” Bradley smiles amusedly, folding his arms across his chest as he leans back against the closed kitchen door. “I’m having a good time.”

She knows it’s a lie for her benefit. Still, she grins at him anyway. She’s certain that he would paint the sky for her if she asked him to. Bradley watches as she pushes herself up onto the kitchen island and curls her index finger, beckoning him playfully closer. He chuckles, wandering over and settling between her parted knees.

She lifts her chin and kisses him slowly, letting the tips of her fingers breach under the hem of his t-shirt. Bradley slides his hand around to cup the nape of her neck, holding her close against him. Kissing slowly under the kitchen lights, his hands skimming along her thighs and hers trailing under his shirt.

“Alright, we should head back.” Bradley hums, leaving her with one last, chaste kiss.

“Or we could…?” She nudges the hem of her skirt up just slightly, giving him a peek at her clothed core. Bradley’s brows draw together, almost sternly.

“Baby — there are eight of your friends like twenty feet away.” Bradley groans, nudging the bridge of his nose against the curve of her jaw.

“Better make it quick, then, Flyboy.” She grins, leaning back on her palms and parting her knees further.

[purplegn0mes]

Before seeing Gnomeo and Juliet: "Daww its just a little gnome movie" After seeing Gnomeo and Juliet: "Oh its actually f**ked up ;;"

No fr, everything in this movie is fucking dark once you look past all the corny jokes and puns

Gnomes can only die by being shattered to pieces or even melted by fire

Featherstone not only had his wife taken away from him but his owner proceeded to lock him in an empty shed where he was trapped for TWENTY FUCKING YEARS (and would’ve stayed forever if it weren’t for Gnomeo and Juliet)

The characters openly talk about death/suicide, repeatedly

Some lawn ornaments can’t even fucking move from their spots or are forever attached to their props making it hard to walk or do other actives

Honestly the environment they live in is fucking toxic. Constantly hearing the humans argue and insult each other, to which that behavior rubs off on them and they do the same to each other

Juliet’s relationship with her dad. He doesn’t even treat her like his daughter or even a person. He treats her like a literal object, keeping her trapped on her pedestal like a bird in a cage. He goes so far he literally GLUES her feet so she can’t ever leave

Juliet’s response to Gnomeo’s false death is just heartbreaking. After spending much time crying she just shuts down, accepting the fact she has no freedom now and that the love of her life is dead and there’s nothing else for her to live for

Gnomeo refusing to leave Juliet to die…they love each other so much they’d rather die together than live on without each other (pretty dark thing to establish in a kids movie)

Benny being a homicidal maniac, willing to kill an entire clan of people for revenge while destroying everything they love in the process

Oh and in my Gnomeo & Juliet series, it gets even darker

[hiccup-queen]

I have three cats. I love them dearly.

But all these posts about being woken up when a bit of their food bowl is empty, or their water is still? All these comics about how cats will follow you to another room just to ignore you where they can see you?

Cant relate. If the food bowl is empty, they'll rip a hole in the bag. If they're out of water, they'll find it somewhere else (a used pot I'm trying to soak clean, the bathroom sink after I brush my teeth...). If they follow me to another room, they are on top of me - literally, if I sit down, or metaphorically, if I'm moving. If I get up to get a glass of water, one of them will follow me (even if she can see me the whole time!) because twenty feet is too far away. My girlfriend will send me pictures of them sitting by the door after I leave. I call out "bye-bye" before I leave for work and they come charging at me for goodbye pets.

My cats are cuddlebugs who refuse to tell me they need food or water. Ridiculous things.

[spidori]

TW, implied animal death. Nothing shown, but I know that hits some people particularly hard regardless so heads up.

I Want Danny to be revealed to someone because of this!

Imagine Redeemed!Valerie, having realized that she was wrong and starting to work through her legitimate trauma and misdirected response to that trauma, gets a job at the shelter instead of Nasty Burger.

Let's say she learned what happened to Cujo and wants to make amends to the cute little ghost puppy as well as Phantom. So she's joined the shelter and is now working her already overtaxed ass off to try to make sure the shelter euthanizes as few animals as possible. Salem is her Everest, kinda, and she's starting to really worry she won't be able to help the little terror; she can't even take her home since the apartment her and her dad are living in refuses to allow pets of any kind, much less one like Salem.

She probably catches a break when Sam hears about all of this. Sam may not trust Valerie yet- or possibly ever, depending on the story/headcanon- but saving a bunch of defenseless animals is still something she can get behind. She would absolutely front whatever funds Valerie needs now that she knows she has an ally at the shelter who not only seems to actually give a shit about the animals, but who she knows is capable of fighting way harder than the less passionate management of the shelter is prepared to stand firm against. Give it a couple of months, a few well timed/placed donations, and Sam going to school in a completely socially acceptable getup for picture day to bribe her parents into abusing their connections for her a little, and Val is now running the shelter.

So She's the first one in to unlock the doors, meaning she also gets a much stronger ghost proximity alert than the usual one and goes sprinting into one of the cat rooms. It takes all her effort not to go in with a gun out but, to her credit, she's been doing this long enough to keep her wits about her in a sudden situation, and thinks it through enough to realize that this could easily be the ghost of an animal who would only be spooked if she went in with an obvious threat display. Still, she has to evaluate the situation to know how to respond, so she peaks out from hiding to see Phantom, standing in front of a very open Salem cage, holding a contentedly rumbling Salem. A Salem who fights literally tooth and claw not to let anyone get within twenty feet of her, yet is seemingly perfectly content to let Phantom sniffle into her side.

Because he is, the ghost boy is clearly crying, and not his usual banshee-like wail either. Those are the same kind of tears she cried every time an animal was put down and she couldn't save them, the same tears she also cried the first time she saw Salem.

Well... she's not sure if this is better or worse than an excitable ghost animal situation, but at least he's definitely not a threat. She might as well keep it that way.

"Hey, Phantom," She said as gently as he could manage around the fading adrenaline, "I see you noticed her too."

"You know?! What am I talking about, you have scanning tech, of course you know... Wait... You know, and you're in charge of the shelter, and you're still trying to help her. You really are making an effort to change."

"Of course I am! How could I not after learning what actually happened to poor little Cujo?! No animal deserves that! Living or not!"

"Good. I'm really glad I don't have to try to protect her from you. I don't think I could deal with another misunderstanding if you thought I was going to try to destroy the animal shelter because I was trying to save one of the cats."

Oh good, the quippy banter was back, so the ghost boy was going to be ok... or, as ok as a the spiritual remains of a dead teenager can be anyway.

"She seems to really like you, not even I can get that close and I'm her favorite person in the shelter." Valerie said as she took a step closer, earning a growl from Salem and proving her point.

"Yeah, well, don't take it personally, she just knows that I Get her."

Valerie could hear the capitalization, and instincts honed by over a year of paying attention while fighting (occasionally to survive even) told her there was something there she was missing.

"It's not just because she's a ghost, is it."

"...No... But that's all I'm going to tell you. It can be really uncomfortable for ghosts to talk about their deaths... or to hear about similar ones for that matter."

"It's ok, I don't need you to tell me anything else to see that you'd make a great home for her."

"Wha-Really?! ME!? You'd trust ME with a cat who was in a cage practically made of warning labels?"

"Setting aside for a second that I'm well aware of how tough you are and are actually probably the best equipped to take whatever she could dish out... yeah. I've seen how you are with Cujo now that I've finally gotten over myself, and she's clearly picked you already."

"The cat distribution system at work, huh?"

"As the one running the place now, I have the authority to tell you, it's a definitely a thing. C'mon, I'll get you her paperwork and a pen."

"Uhhhh... I don't really have the stuff I would need to take care of a cat, and I don't want my reputation as a menace to come back to life if I had to steal food for her or something."

That didn't seem to be keeping him from following along behind her with Salem in his arms. Yeah, they both knew where this was going to end up.

"Oh, that's not a concern. The shelter has a new benefactor who has been trying to help me adopt her out for almost a month now, they provided her with alllllll the necessary care stuff to try to make people look past her terrible behavior. Top of the line kind of stuff too. She even comes with a food package."

"What, like a bunch of cans? They better not be a literal package, or at the very least not in a box, Sam knows better than to provide Boxy with ammo that heavy."

"...I'm not gonna ask how you're up-to-date enough on current goss to know who the donor is."

"Hey! Still a ghostly teenager. I'd die for a juicy piece of drama if I could!"

*snort* "So talking about death is off limits, but joking about it is fair game. Got it."

"Uh, I'm kind of a special case there. Probably best not to try joking about dying with many other ghosts."

"Not like I really banter with many others, too busy trying to help you keep them from wasting even more money on repairing city infrastructure. Anyway, here." She said as she handed him a tote bag along with the adoption forms to fill out.

"Wow. You weren't kidding about top of the line stuff. Awwww, you even got her a little witch-hat collar. That's adorable! Is the food in a different bag?"

"Nope. It's in there."

"Not trying to start a fight or anything here, but I'm pretty sure there isn't any cat food in here."

"That's because it's not literal food, I said Sam paid for a food package. There's a card in the envelope at the bottom that gets money added to it every month to pay for quality cat food. I'll warn you though, she put enough on there for the quality stuff, so she definitely expects you to use it to buy the quality stuff. And that girl will know if you try to cheap out and feed your new fur baby junk food. She's exactly the type to find out somehow, and also the type who will try to fight you about it without caring that it's you."

"Oh, you have no idea!"

"She's fought you before?"

"She's pretty high up on the leader board of women who have tried to kill me, right along side you and the Mrs. Dr. Fenton." Phantom said as he handed back the filled out forms.

"Really? Where does she rank?"

"Depends on how you're scoring. But anyway, do I have a cat now?"

"Seems like it from the forms I just filed away. I don't think you need it from the way she's still behaving for you, but I wish you luck with her anyway."

"Huh. Not how I expected patrol to go today, but there are worse ways to catch a ghost."

"I think she caught you, actually."

"You know, I think you're right. Peace." Danny said, throwing up a peace sign and fading into invisibility.

The effect was only slightly ruined by the fact that Valerie didn't even need to use her ghost gear to track him walking out, she could do so easily from the sound of purring alone.

*Two Weeks Later*

Val happens to catch a snippet of conversation about something cute that Danny's cat has started doing.

When did Fenton get a cat?

She turns and catches a glimpse of the picture and blinks in surprise, which automatically triggers he suit's inbuilt optics in her nanotech contact lenses to capture a picture so she can better analyze whatever surprised her.

Well, at least it's a cute cat, clearly quite happy with her human, and well fed judging by that long silky white coat.

Wait! Isn't that the Mayor's old cat?

Wait! Again! Isn't that Salem's collar on her? Why would she have Salem's collar? Does Danny know Phantom?!

Questions for later, she has class to get to right now.

Regardless of the answers, it is a cute picture. Plus, he's clearly a good cat-dad; it takes a lot of trust for a cat to be comfortable just curled up on the top of someone's head like that, and his cat is straight up asleep on his head. It's adorable. You can barely even see his jet-black hair underneath all of that silky white, makes him look just like Phantom.

...

...Wait a second!

Amity Park has an animal shelter.

Well, obviously. Lots of towns have those.

And like most animal shelters, there’s this one animal who hates everyone. A black cat. A very fluffy black cat named Salem, and she’s constantly hissing and swatting at people. That is if she doesn’t bite.

One day, a worker comes in early to find the infamous ghost boy holding Salem in his arms and petting her, talking softly to her in ghost speak, and Salem is nuzzling his face and purring like an engine.

I made this just because I think it’d be funny if a ghost hunter got a little too close to an injured Phantom and a black cat came out of nowhere and started attacking the ghost hunter, so Phantom has to pull the cat off and is trying to calm them down.

He’ll be carrying Salem and she’s the most peaceful cat you’ll ever see, but as soon as someone reaches for him, she starts acting like a demon.

[m3dardas]

WHISKEY SOUR.

modern!violet x fem!reader

warnings: mild angst, dejected vi, friends to lovers? (idk lmao).

blurb: you present your favorite regular with an offer she just cannot refuse — hopefully she doesn’t refuse.

authors note: i literally can’t get modern vi out of my mind. i’m obsessed w her. this wasn’t intentionally the direction for this, BUT I WENT FOR IT and it might be multiple parts bc i want smut lol. also i kinda hate writing in third person, but i certainly tried :D

mini series: part one, part two, part three, part four

Between the two cities that majorly differed each other, sat the Whiskey Lantern. A bar that gathered lots of traction from both cities — bringing two different types of people together for a good ‘ole drink. And, maybe, even a laugh. It was the mediator between the Piltovian’s and Zaunite’s. Sure, fights and arguments still occurred, but it wasn’t as frequent as people would believe. After all, a bar’s a bar. There’s going to be fights.

It’s popularity was good for business, as much as it was for you individually. When the richer customers gradually became intoxicated, it was easy for you to mooch some extra cash out of them. You were native to Zaun — it was simply second nature. But it was all in good fun. You were one of the few gifted bartenders.

You truly had a knack for it. With efficiency and precision, you managed to woo the consumers — which earned you regulars and recommendations. People would come into the bar, simply asking for you specifically. It could’ve been your beauty, gift of gab, or the obvious talent you had for making drinks. You didn’t care as long as you had gotten the money you deserved.

Tonight, it was just you and another girl — her name was Elora. She had flustered energy when things would get hectic at the bar top, but she wasn’t too prideful to not ask for help. Easily, she was given grace because, after all, this was her second job. Elora was an assistant to a secretary of Piltover, but it wasn’t paying as much as she’d hoped. She didn’t work as often as you, but she managed quite nicely. And she was quick learner, which was a breath of fresh air for you.

The atmosphere of the bar was a little busy, but not unbearably busy. Elora took to one side of the bar, and you did the other side.

You poured the ingredients into the shaker, listening to the live music that played on the platform many feet away from you. Carrying out the orders you’d taken, as quickly as possible. You weren’t the type to leave people waiting — and you also preferred to make solid drinks. So, you had to be quick and accurate.

Humming along to the rehearsed tune playing, you poured the drink into a short glass. Garnishing it with mint leaves and a thinly sliced lime. “Here ‘ya go, sir!” You announced, loudly enough to be heard over the loud instruments being played. He took it, taking a sip of the mojito as soon as it was placed into his fingers. He nodded at you, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two twenty’s, smacking them on the bar top. “Oh, no- you already have an open tab.” Her waved his hand, pushing the bills towards you. “It’s fine! You deserve a forty for this masterpiece!” With that he took his drink walking away from the bar.

Gotta love Piltovian’s.

Shamelessly, you slide the bills into your fingers, tucking it into the back pockets of your shorts. You snickered, taking the damp towel off of your shoulder. Working in sticky areas was never your forte, so you tried to clean as much as could. You wiped down some of the leaky bottles and tried to clean some of the extra glasses. The music entrancing you as you kept your workspace tidy and ready for the next customer.

“You come here often?”

You looked up at the sound of a familiar voice, a smile slowly rising onto your lips. Tossing the towel into a laundry bin under the bar top, you turned towards the voice. Her longer magenta strands were pulled back with an elastic, her shorter pieces framing her heart-shaped face. An oversized sweatshirt covering the top of her body — hiding the evidence of her strength. “Very funny, Vi.”

Naturally, you leaned your palms on the wood across from her. Violet leaning forward on her elbows, looking up at your taller frame. “I know. I’m hilarious.” She shrugged, shutting her grey eyes briefly. You just snickered, pushing off the bar reaching for the glasses. “You want your usual? Or something different tonight?” You asked, polishing a short glass between your hands.

Violet happened to be one of your regulars — one of favorites. Actually, your only favorite. It wasn’t because of of what she paid you, because frankly, it wasn’t that much. You always discounted her simply for being a friend and not just a customer. And because you’re familiar with her money situation. It was very tight, but you found it endearing that she wanted to come and see you. Sometimes she wouldn’t even buy a drink. She’d just come to talk until closing.

She’d always get a whiskey sour — every time. If not that, then a fireball shot. That was if she was there to really have a good time. Or she was trying to destress and suppress. “The usual... Maybe with a fireball shot on the side?” Violet batted her thick eyelashes, a slight curl at the edges of her lips.

“That kinda night, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, immediately getting to work. Eyes flickering from the pending drink in your hands, and the girl tiredly leaning against the bar. She nodded, tapping her fingers against the sticky wood. “Well, a whiskey sour and a fireball coming right up... Make that two fireballs.” You hummed, shaking the mixture over your shoulder.

Her smokey eyes lit up, looking at the girl behind the bar. “Woah, I never asked for two shots.”

“Yeah, because one’s for me.” The corner of your lips curled, glancing at her with amused eyes.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?” Vi inquired, wearily. Her bottom lip going between her teeth.

It wasn’t that you were technically allowed, but it was always a rule to engage with your customers. As long as you didn’t get drunk, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. “As long as I don’t get drunk, I’ll be fine.” You informed, pouring the mixed alcohol into the short glass that harbored a block of ice. You garnished the drink, placing it in front of her with a skinny straw. “I would just hate to be the reason behind you getting fired.”

“Vi, seriously, don’t worry about it. If I get drunk off my ass on the job — it’s my fault, not yours.” You placed two fireball shots in front of her, giving her a humored gaze. Violet takes a sip of the whiskey sour, pushing it to the side to grab the shot glass. You take it between your fingers as well, winking at the pinkette. The two of you clink the glass, just before downing the intoxicating substance. You coughed lightly, pulling an ugly face. “Whew.” You breathed, placing a hand your chest.

Violet exhales, slamming the glass back onto the wooden bar top. You remove the glasses, placing them in the rapid cleaner. “Now, tell me... Why the long face?”

She inhales, sipping her whiskey sour slowly. A look of dejection appearing in her smokey eyes. Your own soften, leaning on the counter, getting closer to the young woman. “Why the long face? Heh, I wouldn’t wanna take up your time.” Vi dryly chuckles, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact.

“You wouldn’t be taking up anything, because I asked you.” She looked up, pushing the stray pieces of hair back behind her pierced ear. “Ugh, I got laid off, okay?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m sorry, Vi. That really sucks.” You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the skin of your lip. “Is there anything that I can do?”

Violet shook her head, taking a big gulp of the whiskey from the glass. You and her had only really talked during your shift — well, you were always working. And if not working, then sleeping. Working late nights at a bar really tired you out.

What you knew of her, is that she did competitive boxing. It wasn’t as lucrative to begin with, because she didn’t have much promotion. Her trainer was a family member, and she just didn’t want to let him go. It wasn’t your place to advise her that she should have, but... She probably should have. “If I don’t get a job in the next two months... I’m probably gonna be evicted. But, hey, no worries.”

“I think I need another shot...” Vi downed the rest of the whiskey sour, tapping her fingers on the bar top. You chuckled halfheartedly, removing the glass and beginning to make another fireball shot.

While making the easy shot drink, you couldn’t help but think. Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she lived with you for awhile. Until she got back on her feet, at least. Sliding the filled shot glass towards her, you shuffled on your feet. Leaning your forearms against the sticky edge of the wood, your eyes intently looked into hers. Violet didn’t pay much attention, too busy on downing her second shot.

“Why don’t you... Come and stay with me for awhile? Until you can get another job and get back on your feet.”

Again, the two of you haven’t hung out beside during your shift, and after hers. Her grey eyes bulged, instantly causing her to choke on the alcohol. She coughed roughly, struggling to take a breath. You immediately poured her some water, placing it in front of her. Reaching your hand across the bar top to rub and pat at her back. “Sorry...” You mumbled.

She took the glass, drinking the water like her life depended on it — which it nearly did. After gaining a higher oxygen percentage, she looked up at you. Her face flushed as red as a tomato — probably from the choking. “Like...” Violet cleared her throat. “Move in with you?”

Your lip fell between your teeth, shrugging. “Yeah. I mean you could save more money — find a job. I’m not gonna charge you for rent.” It was pretty generous to give her a free stay. But why would you have her live with you to save, but she’s giving you rent money every month. Sure, you work a lot, but it ensures that you can pay your bills. You really don’t need the extra help.

“I can’t do that... I don’t know... Are you sure?”

Despite her stunning good looks, muscular capacity, and way with her words — she was very doubtful in leaning on others for help. She almost refused to do so. But, if you had to knock her out and pack all of her stuff for her to move in with you... You would. However, that would be kidnapping, and that’s illegal. “Why wouldn’t I be sure? You’re my friend, Vi. I can’t have you sitting out in the streets jiggling a cup for spare change.”

Vi snorted, sipping the cool water some more. The only flushed parts of her face were her freckled cheeks. “Look, you don’t have to answer now. Just think about it, and let me know.” You walked over a few seats beside her, to grab two empty glasses at the edge of the counter. “This offer isn’t temporary.” You walked passed her, placing the dirty glasses into the rapid cleaner.

A wedge of silence was placed between the two of you. Elora had called you over to help with a drink she hasn’t learn to make yet. While you assisted her, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Violet was in thought, playing with the rim of her glass. Once you were done, you approached the pinkette again. Her hand was digging into her pocket for her cash.

“Woah, woah — hey, don’t worry about it. Those were on the house.”

“I can pay for it.” She still dug into her pocket.

“Well, it’s on the house. Unless, you want to give me a generous tip — which I’m totally not asking for!”

Violet giggled, pulling out a twenty and slapping onto the bar top. “Thanks, y/n.” Delivering a tight lipped smile. You took the twenty, pocketing it into you shorts. The pinkette stood up, revealing the sports shorts she was in. “No problem, seriously. And, do me a favor... Really think about my offer, because I want you to take it.”

She only nodded, before placing a pair of headphones into her ears as she exited the bar.

[pillow-anime-talk]

i love girls month ; twenty-fourth day.

synopsis: The sumptuous ball was a great opportunity to meet new personalities. 

# tags: scenario; strangers to ?; flirty!irene & shy!reader; romance; fluff; bit of drama; gross man; sfw

includes: female reader ft. irene adler {mtp}

You looked more beautiful than usual that cold evening; your body was adorned with a long silver gown, you had high heels on your feet and diamond hair clips adorned your head, and almond-shaped nails wore a French manicure that blended perfectly with the rest of your outfit and your overall appearance.

The ball you were currently at was your friend’s twenty-third birthday party. You knew a lot of people (from other parties, shops, from the street), but most of the guests were completely strangers to you. Especially all uncles, aunts, grandparents, grandmothers, other cousins, small children... You didn’t really know who you were dancing or talking to.

Now, however, instead of taking your seat in the middle of the dance floor, you were having a good time at the snack table. There was a glass of champagne in your right hand, while your left one occasionally touched the colored cookies, which quickly landed in your mouth and then in your stomach.

(You fell in love with the peach cupcakes and shortbreads filled with apple mousse.)

“Ma’am, you look so beautiful.” You heard to your right and immediately looked at the man who was standing quite close to you. Literally very close; you could feel his expensive perfume in your nose and on your tongue. “Are you alone here?”

“W-Well... Yes. Nice to meet you.” You smiled and nodded, and the stranger smirked at you right away.

The conversation between you two was not very sticky; the guy kept asking weird questions in your direction, and you didn’t know what to do on average. At the end of the conversation, he also offered you one dance, but you declined, complaining of pain in your both feet (which of course was a lie). The older man, however, didn’t give up so easily, because a few more times he asked you for a moment on the dance floor or a walk in the garden.

You were about to say ‘No’ again, but suddenly you felt a hand grip on your hip. A blonde-haired woman in a beautiful blue dress was standing next to you.

“I think this sweet Lady is fed up with your company. Let me spend some time with her now.” She smiled stiffly at the dark haired male, then looked warmly at your surprised face. “Maybe we’ll dance, Cutie?”

This time you couldn’t refuse. Contrary to the previous interlocutor, Irene – as she introduced herself after a short second – was not pushy towards you and was simply polite.

And dancing with her... Too perfect and one of a kind.

previous day ; hanako koyanagi from wotakoi ♡ next day ; tachibana hinata from tokyo revengers 

[lady-wallace]

For the Sake of the Mission: Whumptober Day 4 (Spy x Family)

Some Spy x Family for today! 

Prompt: Dead on Your Feet (hidden injury, waking up disoriented, can’t pass out)

Fandom: Spy x Family

Character: Loid

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

Masterpost

~~~~~~~

Loid supposed that he should not complain about being overworked. After all, his profession was quite a bit different than the typical office worker or store clerk. The safety of, well, the whole world was quite literally on the line if he failed to show up for his job. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel that pressure.

Still, he would quite enjoy a full night's sleep sometimes, or even to finish a meal while he was out with his 'family'.

He had barely taken a bite of his food before the server—one of WISE's agents—showed up.

"Mr. Forger, sir? There is a call for you."

Loid shut his eyes briefly, and set his fork down. "Very well."

Anya and Yor watched him curiously as he stood and went to the front desk, answering the phone to receive his mission.

With a weary sigh, he returned to the table to retrieve his hat.

"I'm afraid I have to leave—business," he told Yor.

"I thought you had the day off?" Yor said, and the concern in her eyes told him how exhausted he must look.

He forced a smile. "Ah, an emergency patient. I shouldn't be more than an hour. Take your time here and I'll meet you at the park across the street when I'm done?"

He didn't give Yor time to protest before he turned and left the restaurant.

Twenty minutes later he was fighting for his life, vastly outnumbered by the smuggling ring he had been sent to take out. Couldn't they give him backup once in a while?

He took a heavy blow to the head before freeing his gun arm and shooting his opponent. Then before he could turn to take the other out, another gunshot rang out and something slammed into his side, driving him back.

Loid staggered, choking back a cry before he took out the remaining smugglers, standing there for a long second, pressing a hand to his wound.

"Damn," he swore through gritted teeth, kicking the gun away from a man he hoped was dead.

Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his shirt and waistcoat. He had to stop it before he went back to collect Yor and Anya. He couldn't let them see this. He might be able to explain away a few bruises, but a gunshot wound?

He found some stray cloths to make a makeshift bandage out of, tying it tightly around his waist, gritting his teeth against the pain and the dizziness. Blood loss, plus the blow to his head, coupled with his overarching exhaustion were not doing him any favors. He would be lucky if he made it back.

He would, though. And there was no point worrying about it further. He would see to the wound properly once they got back to the apartment and that would be that.

He tugged his coat on, buttoning it to hide the blood, and straightened his tie and hair. Time to go pick up his family.

Loid drove back to the park, hands gripping the wheel tightly, almost bracing himself on it. Everything was fine, he would not pass out. He refused—really, he couldn't. He'd had worse.

He arrived at the park and sat in the car for a couple minutes before summoning the strength to get up and leave the vehicle. His head spun, and he held onto the roof firmly.

"Papa!"

He looked up, forcing a smile on his face as Anya ran up.

"You wanna play with us?" the little girl asked.

"You're back earlier than expected," Yor said with a smile.

"Ah, yes, it didn't take as long as I thought," Loid told them, resisting the urge to brace his injury. God, his head was pounding…

Anya's face suddenly dropped and she stared at him. "Papa…"

He frowned before forcing another smile. "What is it, Anya? Don't you want to play?"

She looked conflicted, but Yor took her hand, leading her back out to the park. "Come on, Anya, you wanted to play on the swings, remember?"

"Mama pushes too hard," Anya muttered, casting one last glance back at Loid before they all made their way over to the playground.

"I-I promise not to push you out of the swing this time, Miss Anya!" Yor called after her.

Loid hung back by a bench. He didn't sit down for fear he wouldn't be able to get back up again. He watched with growing wooziness as Yor pushed Anya on the swing. He clutched the back of the bench, using it to prop himself up, trying to breathe through his nose. The inside of his shirt felt wet. He must have been losing more blood than he thought. He hoped it would not be visible.

"Anya!"

Yor's cry proceeded the little girl jumping off the swing and turning to Loid, hurrying over to him.

"Papa, I want to go home!"

"Are you sure?" he asked with a frown, but didn't exactly feel like protesting.

Anya nodded with wide eyes, staring at him.

She was way too perceptive sometimes, Loid mused, shaking his head. "Alright, I do have some paperwork I need to finish."

As they moved back toward the car, he stumbled and felt Yor's hand suddenly on his arm before she quickly pulled away.

"Loid, are you all right?" she asked softly. "You look so tired…"

He sighed, forcing a weary smile. "I am," he admitted. "But I'll be all right. I'll try to turn in early tonight."

Neither Yor nor Anya looked convinced and as they made it back to the car. Loid was eager to get back to the apartment so that he could hole himself up in his room and properly care for his injury before he bled to death.

He fumbled with the keys as he tried to put them into the ignition.

"Loid, are you sure you don't want me to drive?" Yor asked.

"I'm fine," Loid insisted and started the car, pulling onto the road.

It was a feat to even sit up straight. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles whitened. The feeling of dizziness only increased, and he bit the inside of his mouth.

You will not pass out, Twilight, he commanded himself. You will not…

Reality slipped and there was a scream.

"Loid!"

The wheel was wrenched out of his hands and the sound of horns and screeching tires could be heard.

Loid startled back to full consciousness and slammed the brakes, taking the wheel from Yor again as she practically sat in the middle of the car, staring at him in shock.

"I—I'm sorry," he breathed and swiftly pulled off to the side of the road, putting the car in park.

"Let me drive," Yor insisted, already getting out of the car. "You're too exhausted for this, Loid."

He didn't protest, simply pulled himself out of the driver's seat as Yor came around to switch with him.

He sagged, leaning against the car with a barely cut off gasp.

His coat had opened and Yor's eyes were instantly on his side, wide as saucers.

"Loid…" she breathed. "You're…"

He pushed himself off the car and tugged the coat around him further. "Don't tell Anya," he whispered before he made his way to the passenger seat, slumping inside as carefully as he could.

Anya's face was teary from the backseat. "Papa, are you gonna die?" she sniffled.

"Of course not, I just need to sleep," he managed to assure her, forcing a smile before his eyes slid shut against his will. Don't pass out, he tried to tell himself, but, of course, there was only so much willpower, even a great spy like Twilight could muster when faced with the body's natural weaknesses.

XXX

"You might be strong, Twilight, but we have ways of making you talk!"

"You think you can hold out forever? You won't be so tough when I'm done with you!"

"Let's hear how loud you can scream, hm?"

Pain lanced through his body and Twilight tried to remain silent, but eventually a scream bubbled up in his throat and tore out of him…

"Ahhgh!"

He flailed, catching something solid with the back of his arm and taking the opportunity to shove the figure away as it reached for him. There was a startled yelp and a crash and he was up, surging to his feet, only for agony to shoot through his side.

He staggered, grabbing the nearest item—a chair—which only kept him up for a couple seconds before it toppled and sent him to his hands and knees.

"Loid!"

The frightened voice had his eyes whipping to one side to see a female figure climbing to her feet from a pile of file boxes that had been upturned. He shrunk back at the blood on her hands, but as she hurriedly settled a lamp back on the side table, fully illuminating herself, Twilight saw a familiar face.

Yor, was the name his muddled mind put to it.

"Please don't hurt yourself anymore," Yor pleaded, taking a step closer to him with one hand held out like he was a wounded animal.

Twilight—Loid—was coming back to himself, mostly thanks to the agony tearing through his side. What a mess. How could he have let his guard down so thoroughly?!

"Y-Yor?" he finally managed, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."

She looked relieved to hear him and hurried over to help him up. "I'm all right. It's you I'm worried about. I was just trying to get the bullet out. Oh Loid, how on earth did you manage to get shot?"

She carefully helped him back onto the bed that Loid saw was covered in, now bloody, towels.

"Patient," he gritted out.

"You really do have a dangerous job," Yor said, sounding worried. "I wanted to take you to the hospital, but you said no, why?"

He had? At least he'd had that much presence of mind. "I can do it myself if it bothers you," he said, not answering her question.

"No, I don't mind!" Yor said quickly. "Only…er…" she blushed slightly, looking away. "I'm not so good at fixing people," she murmured.

Loid didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but he decided to let it go for now, head pounding. The blood loss was making him nauseous as well.

"Just take it out," he said wearily, putting an arm over his eyes as he braced himself.

"If you're sure," Yor said hesitantly.

Loid hummed in affirmation, trying to stay still as Yor reached for the pair of forceps. He tensed as she began to fish for the bullet, gripping the sheet with one hand.

"Ah," Yor gasped as they both felt the clink of metal and she pulled the bullet free.

Loid groaned, back arching off the bed as agony shot through him, breathing slowly out through his nose. He let the arm over his eyes slide off, swimming through a pool of agony. It took him a long moment to realize Yor's hand was firmly planted in the center of his chest as if to steady him, while her other held a wad of gauze over his wound, pressing to stop the bleeding.

His eyes slid open and he saw her looking down at his bare torso, taking stock of each scar there with an unreadable expression. Her thumb carefully traced one across his ribs before she realized he was watching her.

Her cheeks heated and she swiftly took her hand away. Loid realized he missed the contact.

"I'm going to keep pressure on this for a little bit longer," she told him, swiftly ducking her head to one side so her hair mostly hid her face.

"Where's Anya?" Loid murmured finally.

"Watching television," Yor said. "I…told her you needed to rest, that you'd overworked yourself. But she looked very worried."

Loid felt a slight pang at the thought of worrying Anya. He knew how imaginative she could be. "I'll make sure to show her I'm not dead later," he murmured before glancing back up at Yor. "Thank you."

"I don't even know if I'm doing this right," Yor protested, and Loid reached out to set his hand on top of hers where they pressed against his side, holding his blood in. Yor's cheeks heated again, as she stared at his knuckles.

"You're doing enough," he told her sincerely. It was rare he had anyone to even do this much for him. Usually his medical care involved giving himself a cursory patching up before he passed out for an indeterminate period, lucky if he could make it to somewhere safe first. On a better day, he might endure the cold, efficient care of a WISE medical staff member. Genuine care beyond the fact that he was a useful tool that needed repair so it would work properly was not part of his existence. Yor's concern was like a breath of fresh air. Something he very much should not get used to.

Perhaps when he was in a better headspace and not so woozy from blood loss, he would be mortified at how badly he had hidden his mistakes this time. Was it possible he was slipping? Growing too comfortable?

With good reason, he realized wryly as he watched Yor peek under the cloth and finally remove it, turning to grab a clean towel and some antiseptic to flush the wound. Regardless of the nature of their relationship Loid had come to care for Yor and Anya—they had all come to care for each other.

He knew he couldn't allow himself to slip, but maybe…maybe just for today, he could allow himself the small luxury.

Once he was completely bandaged up, Yor began to clean up the medical supplies.

"Is there anything I can get you?" she asked worriedly.

Loid smiled slightly and shook his head. "I'll be fine with some rest. Just look after Anya, please."

"Of course," Yor promised, as she gathered the bloody towels into a bundle. "Don't worry about anything but recovering."

Loid nodded, already on the verge of unconsciousness again and dangerously comfortable with it.

"Loid?"

He opened his eyes briefly to see Yor turned around at the door, one hand on the knob.

"If…You can always talk to me. If you need to," she said softly, earnestly.

Loid offered a small smile. "Thank you, Yor."

He would not take her up on the offer, and he didn't think she expected him to either, not really. And maybe Yor knew more than she was letting on. Maybe there was only a matter of time before all of this came crashing down.

But, frankly, Loid couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. He felt oddly safe here, safe enough to pass out and know that he could recover in relative peace.

He was completely unaware of the small figure who crawled under his arm later that night, and the assassin who diligently kept watch to make sure that he would truly be able to rest in peace and safety.

~~~~~~

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[bellatrixobsessed1]

Skin & Scale (Part 4)

An old man punches a woman in the face. Her brother slugs him back. The apple that they had been bickering over bounces to the floor and rolls to the feet of a street child. A whole swarm of them flock to it and become a tangle of limbs and cussing. Caldara City is in disarray and the burning retribution hasn’t even begun.

Azula massages her temples. “This is why you should have let me do the talking, Zuzu!” She drums her fingers upon the table. “The whole city is in a state of panic because you don’t know how to choose your words.”

“I–”

“The dragons won’t even have to lift a claw at this rate. It’s embarrassing.” 

“Look, I’ve never handled a situation like this. The Fire Nation has always been…”

“Untouchable?” Azula quirks a brow. “So was Ba Sing Se, but it got breeched. An admirable job if I must say.”

“Admirable…” Sokka grumbles folding his arms across his chest. 

“I’m am pleased to know that you agree.” Azula smiles. 

“I was being sarcastic.” 

“Noted and promptly disregarded.” Azula shrugs. She turns her attention back to Zuko. “Luckily for you, you have someone who knows the right words to choose and the correct order to put them in.” 

“If you want to try addressing them, be my guest. They won’t listen to reason!” 

“Because ‘reason’ has been delivered with a shaky voice and an uncertain tone of voice. You need to be firm and decisive but with a careful measure of sympathy and understanding. They’re afraid, which is a useful tool in some instances but not this one.” 

“So you offering a demonstration?” Toph leans back in her chair. 

“Indeed, I am. So pay attention, Zuzu. You’ll want to learn this for next time.” 

“Next time!?”

“There will be a next time. You didn’t think that being Fire Lord would be an easy thing, did you?” Zuko opens his mouth to respond but Azula continues. “Did you know that most Fire Lords die in their late 40’s. There are a few exceptions, of course, but a lot of them…” She pauses. “Stress tends to do that.” She suspects that she probably won’t make it past 39. 

Given her body’s refusal to bloom, she might not make it to her twenties but for an entirely different, less literal reason. 

“Call a meeting with the general public and I will reassure them that they have nothing to worry about.”

“But they do have something to worry about.” Sokka counters. “You said it yourself, we need to prepare ourselves for a dragon related doom.” 

“Yes, but they don’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, I guess that panic doesn’t really help.” He mutters. 

“Avatar, you will make the speech with me. My words will be enough, but it would add an extra layer of comfort to have the Avatar emphasize as much.” She stops her pacing to stand directly in front of him. “If you can stomach a fib.”

“I’ve like before.” He confesses. “Asks Katara, it was a whole thing. I don’t mind lying for the greater good as long as we tell the truth in the end.”

“I have more important things to attend but you can feel free to tell the truth after we sort our dragon problems out.”

Katara bristles at this. “Since when are we letting her run things?”

“Since Zuzu lost control.” 

Admittedly it kind of stings to still be treated like the enemy even when she is trying to help. Perhaps it is the price of her disposition. 

“It’s fine.” Zuko mutters. “She can have this one.”

She is almost certain that she will have more than just one. Zuzu doesn’t have the personality type to do some of the things that it takes. At least this time the thing is a simple public speech. At least this time she won’t have to get her hands dirty. 

Sometimes she gets tired of doing the hard and gritty work. 

Maybe one day she will say no, tell them to handle their own problems. 

But, then, some of their problems are entertaining. She supposes that they can’t use her if she doesn’t mind the tasks. She supposes that she does volunteer to do a good majority of it. She just wonders how they would react if she stopped being so helpful.

.oOo.

“I think that we did good today.” Aang smiles. “Lychee juice?”

Azula considers before taking the cup. “It wasn’t terribly hard, Avatar. Fire Nationals are rationally driven people…most of the time. Sometimes they just need a stern reminder to get it together. A touch of intimidation will do the trick.” She shrugs.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” Sokka shrugs.

“Do what?” 

“The whole intimidation thing. Not with us anyways. We know the truth.” 

“The truth.” Azula furrows her brows. 

“You’re actually kind of a nice person.”

Azula sniffs and takes a drink. “Hardly.”

“Let her keep her walls up, Sokka.” Toph puffs a strand of hair out of her face. “She’ll get tired of it eventually.”

“You didn’t.” Katara quirks a brow. 

“I did so!” Toph declares. “Sort of…”

Azula rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what I did to give you any indication that I care about any of you. I just want to ensure that I get to be Fire Lord every now and again.”

“That’s why you always join us for dinner?” Sokka points out. 

“I don’t know if you are aware, but having meals is a basic human need and it would be quite inconvenient to have to rush through my meals before you get here or wait until afterwards.”

“If you say so.” Sokka helps himself to a dinner platter. 

“You work pretty well with Aang.” Zuko points out. 

“Aang annoys me the least.” She glances over at him as he silently picks away at his cabbage stew. “He knows when to keep quiet and not push matters. All of you are dull minded and deplorable and…”

“That’s why you can’t get enough of us and enjoy helping us so much?” Sokka slings an arm over her shoulder. 

She rolls her eyes. “I help you all because I need something to do. It is that simple. And in this case I am rather fond of not getting clawed apart by a vengeful dragon or two. We have a common enemy.”

“If you didn’t like me, I would be on fire right now.” He taps his fingers against her arm. 

“That’s a splendid idea.”

“But I had to suggest it first.” He quirks a brow. 

“You’re very smug right now, Sokka.”

“Smug and still not on fire. Admit it, you’re warming up to us.” 

From across the table, Toph snickers. Toph and Zuko both. Her cheeks warm ever so delicately. “How many sticks of jerky will it take to keep you from talking?”

“How many do you have?”

Azula shoves the whole platter of some thirty jerky sticks at him. His eyes light up. “You can’t say that you hate me and then give me thirty jerky sticks! That’s just contradictory!” 

She clears her throat. “We’ve wasted enough time, having to deal with mild hysteria. Tomorrow we should set out to look for signs of dragon habitation on the off chance that it is still alive. And I would like to emphasize just how minimal that chance of finding signs of life are…”

“You can’t just change the subject like that!” Sokka protests through a mouthful of jerky, just distinguishable enough for her to understand and just indistinguishable for her to pretend to not have.

“Even so, I suppose that the smallest leads are worth looking into just to tie off any loose ends. There are several caves and volcanoes worth looking into. They are all located on the more remote Fire Islands. With the bison they are only a day’s trip away each, two days at worst.”

“And if we can’t find any signs of dragon life, then what?” Katara asks. 

“We can just hand Azula over to them. Close enough right?” Sokka chuckles. 

She folds her arms across her chest. “Hilarious.”