#sorry guys Henry is my son now

[a-single-tulip]

Guess who's been playing Kingdom Come: Deliverance

[withasideofshakespeare]

Have you ever noticed that pretty much everybody in Shakespeare's histories is an awful parent? Now you can rank them according to your tastes in (bad) parenting with my tier list maker:

I probably forgot somebody (please tell me if I did) and also all of the parent-adjacent characters are included according to my personal tastes (mostly because Falstaff does a LOT of (weird) parenting and deserved a spot and then pulled a bunch of other people along with him).

Here's mine:

[quietwingsinthesky]

I would take five more seasons of Samuel and his shiny bald head over the men of letters is what I’m saying

[amiableness]

ummmmmmmmmmm the jealous james in the grocery store??? OMFG R U KIDDING IM GOING FERAL IMAGINING IT

Jealous james at the park when people think reader is single mum and try hitting on her

Jealous james watching reader all giggly by someone so he sends Henry to distract her

Jealous james watching the reader getting eyed so strolls over henry on his hip, making it seem like they are a couple "He wants you darling"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHh

also also i could just imagine that whenever reader is talking to someone else both James and Henry get pouty because her attention is not on them

Just imagine james chilling out with the boys henry with him when he looks at his son and sees the most upset, angry look on henrys face and follows his gaze to see reader talking to somebody now they are both just watching all pouty and sirius and remus are laughing their heads off

or Henry being possessive over reader just like his daddy

Reader sees kid looking sad and goes over to try and help and henry just tugging on james' sleeve pointing "go get my reader"

or shes pushing him on the swings and another child wants a push "NO! my reader!"

or like whatever nickname he'd have for her because i imagine he would

like calling her love or something cuz he heard james calling her it

her boys just being obsessed with her

woah that was a lot sorry not sorry

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 762 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

James narrows his eyes, focusing intently on you as you stand beside a man he doesn’t recognize. Your laughter carries across the lawn, a sound that usually belongs to him, and it drives him crazy. The guy next to you seems to revel in the effect he’s having, his gaze fixed on you with an admiration that makes James bristle. The way he looks at you—like you’re the most captivating woman in the room—doesn’t escape James. While he can’t deny that you’re breathtaking, the idea of another man gazing at you with such intensity unsettles him deeply.

“I don’t blame her, honestly. Corey’s quite funny.” Sirius says, reclining in the chair next to James with an easygoing air. His eyes are shielded by dark sunglasses, and he sprawls comfortably, like a content cat basking in the sun. His relaxed demeanor contrasts sharply with James, who is sitting upright, shoulders tense, and gaze fixed intently on you.

At their feet, Henry occupies himself on the patio, diligently pushing his bright red toy car along the pavement. The small wheels click rhythmically against the concrete, and Henry makes enthusiastic vrooming noises, his face scrunched with concentration. The late afternoon sun casts a warm, golden glow over the backyard.

Lily Evans is hosting the backyard get-together, blending friends from school with those she’s made as an adult. Though she is his ex, James is grateful they parted on good terms. He still considers her a close friend and values their continued relationship.

“Corey.” James repeats, his voice laced with a sharp edge of irritation. Sirius shifts his gaze from you and Corey to James, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s not at all surprised by the undercurrent of jealousy in his friend’s tone.

Sirius observes James’s clenched jaw and the way his eyes narrow at the sight of the blond. “Yeah, Corey Cartwright,” he says, his tone teasing. “Real funny guy. And single, too.” As James’s gaze snaps sharply to Sirius, the latter cackles, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s elicited.

“What the fu—” James starts but cuts himself off, glancing down at his son, who is intently focused on his toy car. He then turns a sharp glare at Sirius. “Are you serious? Because this isn’t funny.”

“You know what is funny?” Sirius says, casually pointing in your direction with his bottle. “If you don’t make a move soon, Y/N might end up with this guy.” James watches, his stomach churning, as you begin to hand your phone to Corey. Corey takes it with a smooth, confident smile, the conversation animated and easy. The interaction only fuels James’s unease, making him more anxious about the situation.

“Henry!” James says, his voice tinged with urgency. “See Y/N over there? Why don’t you go show her your car?” Henry looks up at his father with wide, curious eyes before scrambling uneasily to his feet and darting toward you, clutching his toy car tightly.

James watches as Henry tugs at your jeans and raises his arms, a clear signal he wants to be picked up. His gaze softens when you bend down and lift Henry effortlessly, settling him comfortably on your hip. You still clutch your phone in your hand, but your attention is entirely on the three-year-old now. Henry’s face lights up with a delighted smile as he nestles against you, and you respond warmly as he shows you his car.

The man standing next to you frowns in confusion, clearly thrown off by the abrupt change in the dynamic. He looks between you and Henry, trying to make sense of the scene, while James’s unease resolves itself.

“Pathetic,” Sirius sighs, his voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and amusement. “You should ask the poor girl out instead of scaring off all her options.” He stands up, stretching before heading into the house. As he walks away, James watches him go, his mind racing with scenarios of confessing his feelings to you.

That’s a problem for another day, he decides.

Turning his attention back to you and Henry, James takes in the sight of you gently cradling his son, your face softened by a loving smile. The way Henry clings to you, completely absorbed in the moment, makes James’s chest tighten with a mix of longing and protectiveness.

Corey remains beside you, still looking confused and shifting uncomfortably, clearly feeling out of place. James notices and decides to step in. “Sorry to interrupt you two,” he says, giving Corey a brief, blank glance. “He really wanted to see you, darling.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[supercap2319]

"You know it's bad enough that there's a possible attempt on my life, but being sardined canned into a closet with you two is punishment enough. Y/N grumbles. His foot is in a mop bucket, and it's still wet from the mop water. "I think I'd rather be shot. Would be less painful than feeling Claremont's elbow in my ribs and your majesty's foul breath down my neck."

"Are you quite finished?” Henry said. "Can you perhaps stop putting all our lives in danger with your incisive tirade?"

"Why do you hate us so much, Y/N?" Alex and Henry turned their heads to squint at him. This close Y/N could see the flecks of blue in Henry's eyes and the soft black curls of Alex's hair.

"You guys really want to go there?"

"Maybe we do."

Y/N tried to un-sandwich himself between the two boys, unsuccessful in his mission as he huffed and looked at both of them. "Olympics 2016." He looks at Henry. "I went to introduce myself and was excited to meet you, but you looked at me like I was the antichrist and told Shana to get rid of me."

He turned to Alex. "2018. Your New year's party. My dad insisted on getting to know you, Nora, and June. So, I went to one of the rooms and when Nora asked if you were going to invite me, you laughed and said 'fuck no! Fuck that cocksucker' and started to laugh."

Alex and Henry looked down. "I didn't realize you'd heard that." Henry said.

"Is that your douchey-prince way of apologizing? Because you sure suck at it."

Henry looks at him and pauses. "I could have been nicer."

"And I can be a big mouth when I'm drunk and you're right. I should have invited you in the first place. I don't think you're a cocksucker." Alex said.

"And you think that makes it okay? Half-assed apologies and everything is fine?" Y/N said.

"I'm sensing there's more to your dislike of us." Henry noted.

Y/N sighed. "It's just… it's not fair. You guys make it look so easy. Everyone loves you and thinks you're sexy and the greatest thing since sliced bread. Me? I feel like I'm always being compared to Prince Henry and First Son Alexander Claremont. I feel like I have to struggle to catch up to you both to prove I'm worth it too. Now can you understand why I'd rather be shot than spend another minute in this janitor closet with you both?"

They're both quiet for a while. "Well, I can't change that, but I can tell you that I was, in fact, a prick that day. Not that it excuses my behavior, but my father passed away fourteen months back and I wanted everyone to suffer like I was suffering. I'm sorry."

"And I'm the son of the first female president. And I'm not white like she is, so I understand the struggle to prove yourself to the world. And it may seem like I have it all figured out, I don't. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Y/N." Alex apologized.

Before Y/N could reply, Alex's bodyguard opened the door. "Threat neutralized. Some kid brought fireworks for his friend."

Alex looks her. "When you say 'neutralize…'"

"It's a good thing he's already in the hospital." She winks at Y/N.

[froggerland]

"send me a character and I'll give you my opinion on them" henry peglar!

First Impression: I'm gonna be so fr with you and say that I didn't clock he and Bridgens were a thing basically until the final boat scene bc I thought they were father and son sggdhshsu (I'm so sorry, I did my first terror watch with 20% attention max, many more such cases). I liked him well enough tho, he has sad puppy energy but in a very different way than Ned

Impression Now: My God homosexuals are real. I adore Bridglar, I honestly can't believe it's canon and not just vaguely hinted at but no they are real and they're fucking tragic. I gotta say besides his dynamic with Bridgens there isn't much to him in my eyes, I'm not in deep enough to recall every scene hes ever in, he's really just a side character but that's totally fine with me

Favorite Moment: The frightened puppy eyes he gives Bridgens after showing him the bruises from his scurvy onset and the way he clings to him. They share the most "romantic affection through physical touch (as much as victorian society would allow even at the other end of the world because its chokehold is THAT tight)" moments in the whole show and it just kills me. I feel like they both know Bridgens is lying but what else can he say, all they have is hope and each other

Idea For A Story: I want to see him and Bridgens being domestic. Idk if Stewards got their own quarters but I want to see them nestled under 726362 blankets and furs, drinking tea and reading something together. Let them be happy and touchy with one another in PEACE for once

Unpopular Opinion: I don't think there's any hot takes out there about this little man lmao. Too little screentime to be problematic

Favorite Relationship: Bridglar obv

Favorite Headcanon: In a modern setting he would either be the sweetest guy ever, that brother/uncle who everyone loves who is super good with kids and loves to babysit OR he would be the biggest incel bc of his height (Bridgens would un-incel him <3)

[juxtaposed-nerd]

aapi heritage month headcanons pt. 3 !!!

just in time for s3 of dndads, let’s get into it! this one will probs be a lot but so much has happened in the past year 😭

- taylor LOVES chinese new year, he looks forward to it every year as the favorite (only) child and he eats all the dumplings he could ever eat and gets tons of red envelopes

- cassandra and morgan become best friends/mother-daughter relationship vibes post-doodler, like they are the most badass and cool women in the world and i do think taylor grows to love morgan so much and even though his relationships with nick/glenn are strained, at least he has the best mom and grandma

- as a voice actor for anime/cartoons i think cassandra really did fall in love w the art of anime and i’d love for her to guest at a con (make her the j michael tatum of her world PLEASE) and taylor gets a free ticket to weeb out as much as he wants <3

- in my heart glenn is trying his best, like he really wants that closeness (haha) and i think now post-doodler it's like literally what started as a father/son duo of him and nick now is genuinely a huge (kinda fucked up) family that is trying to mend itself and i do think it starts with chinese takeout !!!

- sidenote i think the close/foster/swifts etc are a great example of how freddie has subverted asian stereotypes fr and also how a family stuck in an absent/neglectful cycle has the ability to come together again

- the mending includes hermie too, hermie definitely deserves something more in his life and the chance get to be a kid w a home in the form of a big family w his bio dads (his normal parents are invited too) (and i also love the idea of normal being like 'grandpa henry! this is the guy!' and hermie being an honorary oak would be so cute 😭)

- hermie went and saw joy ride (2023) bc it was marketed as a comedy and came out bawling his eyes out from that one scene y’all adoptees know what im talking about

- tbh thinking about taylor's closeness w his mom and francis's w kimon wan literally asian moms are holding this show together

- the farnsworth’s are thai and german and they came to peachyville at a young age to give their newborn son a better life very starting nuclear family vibes, ed definitely learned thai for her, and now their son is a bowling champ!

- francis farnsworth and taylor swift are lowkey the spectrum of asian upbringing where it's like midwest asians vs socal asians 😳🤭 they live in different worlds

- kimon wan is an immigrant mom just trying to raise her family and her damn son wont stop being a loser 🤦‍♀️ literally milf w a shotgun (ed is a lucky man FR) (sorry anthony burch)

- when francis is having a really tough day then kimon wan will leave a plate of cut up fruit at his door so he knows he's still supported

- luo's golden wok is the first and only chinese restaurant in peachyville and they have to have the best pepper steak ever im calling it now

- tony collette would love and hate both jodie and glenn i think for different reasons but instead of calling them formosans he’d call them orientals 💀

- also tony collette is 0.0001% asian (chinese) and tyrus luo either DEFINITELY knows which is why he puts up w all the bullshit tony does or tony is determined to make sure that tyrus NEVER finds out ever

- they have a 'throwback' silent movie night at the drive-in and they show a meryl streep film and literally everyone falls in love w him 🥰

- billion millions was a crazy rich asian and he was an icon

- once again they mean the world to me! might end up posting more at some point who knows lol

-

checkout past headcanons: 2022! 2023!

[soupmanspeaks]

Miketrap AU (listen you gotta just trust me on this one) where Michael gets got in the springlock suit on night 4 of Sister Location trust trust trust

What was the Spring Bonnie suit doing at Circus Baby's? Uhhhh, trust it was Williams hiding spot for it or smth

I'd like to think how the actual springlock failure happened is that Lizzie's ghost manifested in front of Michael all like, "Haha! We finally got you now, father!-" only to see that it, in fact, is NOT Father, and just be really confused

Meanwhile, the springlocks are going off on the boy in the suit because he got spooked coz "IS THAT MY DEAD SISTER?!?!?!?-"

And then idk, girl puts the suit with the now-dead Michael in it back in the main control room because someone's bound to come down here and find himmmmm surelyyyyyy.....yerpppp

But I think she would still tell him that he won't truly "die" because she knows that him and her are kinda in the same boat now 😭

And ykw, maybe then boy wakes up feeling all mechanical and stuff and he decides to leave a message for dear old Father--(listen if I was William and a 6ft 300 lbs robot version of my son who I hate and who hates me told me he was going to "come find me" I would start running dawg)

Maybe his time working in FNaF 1 & 6 (and at the end of 2 if you're a fritz = Mike sorta guy) has him wearing an illusion disc so that in the job offer interviews, the interviewer doesn't get spooked by a literal robot in the room with them 😭

Nononono see, and this is why the animatronics go after him--because it would be kinda funny if the disc made him look like regular old Michael, yes, but it puts him in a suit that William would wear back in the hayday of Freddy's 😭

Maybe the same exact suit that he wore under the Springlock suit to...yk 🔪 (something something like the ballpit where the remnant of the suit retains memories and it's projecting onto Michael via the illusion disk)

Oooh wait this just made me realize that this au allows William to be actually alive for most of the FNaF games--which also makes FNaF 3 fun, because if you think Michael's usually the frightguard, in this AU, William could be working there in a nice inverse of fate!

As for Pizza Sim? It would be kind of funny if they just

Made it so Spring Bonnie was an attraction/performer animatronic--so to say Henry was the one mostly doing the Pizza Simming and upgrades and boy was there to....idk stand and look pretty /j

(I also feel like since he and the MCI spirits are on more common ground, he could reason with them quicker--so to say that the fake pizzaria was mostly to lure William in if anything 😭)

Not to jump the gun a bit, but I personally think this makes Glammike funnier--

Picture this, the souls are free but can still linger around the place, William Aftons back, and Michael's spirit needs a way to fix all this--so what does he do?

....

"CHARLIE PLEASE DO YOUR THING AND MAKE ME THE COOL SHINY FREDDIE MERCURY ANIMATRONIC PLEASE PLEASEE PLEASE IVE BEEN STUCK IN THAT STUPID RABBIT FOR 50 YEARS MATE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLE-"

And what would be infinitely funnier is that even after possessing Glamrock Freddy, anytime boy puts on an illusion disk or manifests his spirit, he's still got on the same William-esc suit on

(Sorry boy, you died in the Bad-Man's suit and your spirit has to remind you of that 😭😭)

[scarletqueenx]

chapter two - i miss you, i’m sorry

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Dean knew, from the state they had found you, that you were in serious condition. So waiting for the doctors to update them on your state was getting frustrating.

He couldn't ask about your either, as he wasn't your family. And if he showed his real concern, Henry and Peter would start to ask questions. Sam was trying to distract him, telling him about possible cases, but Dean was barely listening. He hadn't even been able to kill whoever or whatever had done this to his ex-girlfriend.

"Holloway?" The doctor's voice pronouncing your last name brought him out of his thoughts.

Henry quickly stood up, while Peter closed the comic book in his hands to pay attention to the doctor's explanation. Sam and Dean remained seated, listening closely.

"Yeah. Hi. It's me, I'm her father." Henry answered, approaching the doctor. "Is she okay?"

"Mr. Holloway. I'm doctor Ross." The man introduced himself, shaking his hand. "I am the one who took care of her." He explained. Henry nodded in silence. "She had a head concussion. But the CT came back negative. There is no sign of brain damage. She also has a couple of broken ribs and lost a lot of blood, so we've had to give her some transfusions. All of that said, we think she is going to be fine." Henry sighed with relief, while Dean felt how his breathing became normal again. Beside him, Peter could sense his relief, squinting his eyes at him in confusion. "She is still asleep. We're waiting for her to wake up, hopefully it won't be long. Everything seems normal. She's been lucky."

"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you so much." Henry said. "When will we be able to see her?"

"I will have a nurse take you. Although only family is allowed at the moment."

Dean was afraid he would say that, but a part of him already knew. He wanted to see you, but he also knew he had no right to.

"Guys, I haven't had a chance to thank you yet." Dean and Sam stood as Henry approached them. "I am very grateful that you found her. We both are, aren't we, Peter?"

"Yeah, of course." He nodded. Sam gave him a little smile. "Although I'm actually the one who found her."

"Peter."

"What? It's true."

"We're just happy she's okay." Sam interrupted their little discussion. Feeling secretly jealous of the father-son relationship the two seemed to have.

Henry smiled at him in appreciation.

"Do you think maybe we could see her?" Dean asked, drawing the man's attention. "To know what she can tell us about the thing that attacked her?" He quickly clarified.

"I'm sure she'll want to hunt it down herself." Henry answered.

"No. Yeah. Of course. But she's hurt, and that thing can still hurt people."

"Yeah, you're right." He admitted, thoughtfully. "When she wakes up I'll ask her. I'm sure she would like to thank you too."

"Thanks."

"In the meantime, you can go back to our house." Henry declared, pulling the keys out of his jacket and holding them out to Dean, who looked at them in confusion. "If she tells me anything I will let you know. It's late, you should rest."

His concern for them was rare for the Winchester brothers. Although deep down they appreciated it.

"You should take Peter with you. If it's no problem."

"No. It's okay." Dean answered.

"Wait, wait, wait." The boy exclaimed, looking up at his father. "No. I want to see her."

"Peter, it's late." He answered. "And you have school tomorrow."

"Do you seriously think I'm going to class after today?" He asked in disbelief. "She needs me by her side."

"She is in good hands." His father assured him, crouching down to be at his level. "The doctors will take care of her. I will take care of her."

"What if that thing comes after me?" He then asked.

"I doubt it. But if that's the case, that's what they're here for, isn't it? To hunt it down." He said, pointing to the Winchester brothers.

"Because they've been doing so well so far." He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, cut the attitude." His father requested, frustrated. "They've come here to help without expecting anything in return. Be a little nice to them, okay? "

"Whatever."

Henry rose back up, giving Dean and Sam an apologetic look.

"Hey, kid." Dean called him. "How about a pizza? We can stop and get some on the way back to your house."

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

"You're not buying me off with food. I'm not that easy." He assured him.

"Unlike you, Dean." Sam muttered with amusement.

"Shut up." He answered, but Sam keeps an amused smile on his lips.

"All right. I'll go with you." Peter finally accepted with a sigh. "But I won't go to class tomorrow. I want to be with her." He looked back up to his father.

"We'll talk about it later." He answered him. "Thanks guys."

"Yeah, no problem."

Peter didn't went to school the next day. When he woke up, his father still hadn't come home. Henry had spent the night in the hospital, in an uncomfortable chair next to your bed, waiting for you to wake up.

That morning Dean had been the first to get up after sleeping only a few hours. As the younger Holloway went into their home kitchen, Sam was reading on his computer looking for possible cases for him and his brother. Meanwhile, Dean was reading your hunting journal looking for any clues about the man who had kidnapped you and Kaila.

"If it was a demon it will be gone by now." Sam said, looking up at his brother.

"Unless he's still hell-bent on following her." Dean answered. "If we find him, we could finish him off."

"You can't kill a demon." Peter's voice drew the attention of both brothers as their gazes traveled to the kitchen doorway.

Looking at him, Dean took a sip of his coffee cup before answering his statement. "Yes, you can. If you have the right weapon."

"Like what? The Colt?" Peter asked, frowning.

"You know about the Colt?"

"My dad wrote about it in one of his books." He shrugged his shoulders as he walked toward the fridge to pull out a carton of milk. "He thinks I don't pay attention, but I do."

Sam and Dean shared a look.

Walking past Dean, Peter grabbed your diary from the counter and a box of cereal from the nearest cupboard before sitting down next to Sam.

"I was reading that, you know?" Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"It's private." Peter said, fixing a bowl of cereal. "Read a newspaper. Or a book. There's plenty of them on every shelf in this house."

"It's a hunting journal. There's nothing private about it."

Peter squinted silently, watching him closely for a few seconds. Dean turned to his brother, confused.

"You know, my sister knew a Dean once." Peter then said, gaining back the attention of both brothers.

"She did?" Dean asked.

"Yeah." He answered with a nod, looking down at his bowl of cereal. "He was a jerk. Well, I never met him, but he dumped her in a motel near Chicago. He never called or gave any explanation. "

"Yeah, that sounds like a jerk." Sam whispered, turning his attention back to the computer in front of him as he earned an annoyed look from his brother.

"Sharing a name with him doesn't help me like you." Peter admitted, pretending not to notice that little interaction between the two of them.

"Maybe he had a reason for leaving." Dean said, looking back at him.

"Maybe." Peter repeated, staring straight into his eyes.

Dean gulped harshly at his watchful gaze, feeling as if the boy could see right through him.

"You know." He noted after a few seconds, not taking his eyes off him. "You've known since we got here, haven't you?"

Sam turned his head to look at the boy.

"I know my sister like the back of my hand. I know where she keeps everything. Of course I knew." Peter answered, placing on the counter one of the photos you had saved from your time with Dean. "So, what exactly are you doing here? Trying to make up for what an idiot you were?"

Dean sighed, taking the photo in his fingers to look at it carefully.

"Bobby sent us here. I didn't know she was the one we had to look for until we got here." He explained. "I was trying to protect her, you know? When I left."

"You don't have to give me any explanations. Although leaving in the middle of the night seems like something an asshole would do."

Dean didn't know how to answer that, and he was thankful he didn't have to when the phone started ringing. Sam was the one who answered the call, getting up and approaching the phone placed on one of the kitchen walls. Peter looked at him with interest, hoping it was news from his sister.

"It was Henry." He announced, as he hung up the phone. "She woke up."

"Great. I'll wait for you in the car. Be quick or I'll go alone." Peter exclaimed, rising to his feet and leaving the kitchen in a matter of seconds.

"Don't... touch my car." Dean warned him, leaving the coffee mug on the counter as he followed him.

Sam smiled in amusement, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Dean could feel your eyes on him as he enter the hospital room after his brother. You didn't seem surprise or confuse to see him there, which funny enough made him more surprise and confuse.

"My father said you saved me." You smiled politely, shifting your gaze to Sam.

"I wouldn't say that much." He answered. "We couldn't finish the guy off, he left pretty quickly. We didn't even saw him."

"It's okay. I think I scared him."

Your response brought a smile to Sam's face. While Dean didn't know how to act now that he stood in front of you.

"I'm glad you're better." Sam said. "I'm...

"Sammy." Your completed, looking at him fondly. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Right." He nodded. "So have I, about you."

Your gaze then turned back to Dean, whose eyes had been locked on you since he had enter the room. A sense of familiarity filled you as your eyes finally met. Part of your was still angry at him for leaving without explanation, another wanted to hug him and tell him how much you had missed him. Dean felt an ache in his chest, as if this meeting was just the beginning of another goodbye.

"I should... leave you two alone." Sam's voice brought you back to reality, reminding both of you that he was still in the room. "It's good to meet you."

"Likewise." You responded with a kind smile.

As Sam left the room a heavy silence settled between Dean and you. His eyes had drifted away from your, looking everywhere and nowhere in particular. But now it was you who couldn't stop staring at him, trying to read his body language.

"I should have known." You were the one to break the silence. Dean's eyes fell on your with a sense of confusion.

"What?"

"That you were a hunter." You clarified with a nervous smile peeking through your lips. "It was pretty obvious now that I think about it."

"That you were wasn't." He admitted, feeling slightly less nervous in your presence. "I really believed the whole 'art student traveling the country' thing."

"That wasn't entirely a lie." Your assured. "I was an art student, but that's not why I was there."

Dean nodded slightly, his eyes dropping to the floor before he spoke again. "Listen, I'm sorry... I left the way I did. I really thought it was for the best."

"For me or for you?"

"You know how this job works. If anything had happened to you... it would have been because of me. I couldn't have that."

"Yes, I understand." You nodded with a slight tone of bitterness in your voice. "But you could have said goodbye, don't you think?" Dean opened his mouth to answer, but you were quick to cut him off. "It doesn't matter now, Dean. I'm over it."

"Right." His voice came out as a whisper. "I'm glad you're okay." You looked away from him, feeling that same pain you had felt when you had woke up that morning years ago without him by your side and no explanation. "I'm... I'm sorry."

As quickly as Dean left the hospital room Sam approached him, following him down the hallway.

"Did you tell her?" He asked him.

"Tell her what, Sammy?"

"Are you kidding? You know what."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, not bothering to look at him.

"Oh, I don't know. Because you've been wanting to call her for months." Sam shrugged. Dean stopped in his tracks, turning around to look at him. "Yeah, I pay attention too. You think I haven't seen you looking at her number in your phone? Well, I have. You want to tell her."

"No, I don't." He assured. "Why would I what to? Tell her I was an idiot back then, that I don't want to leave her again, but then do that exactly in a few months? No, thank you. She doesn't deserve that."

"She deserves the truth."

"Well, I was never good at giving her what she deserves. I'm back to being the jerk who leaves without explanation. I can live with that." He declared, turning away from his brother.

"Dean, you're dying. It's not the same..." Sam insisted, but Dean had already walked away far enough not to hear him.

"He is dying?" Peter's voice caused Sam to turn around quickly.

"What?" He frowned. "It's complicated."

"Listen, I don't even like him." He admitted. "But I know my sister and she loves him, I think. At least she deserves an explanation."

"I know she does. But I'm not the one who should give it to her."

"She's always wanted to get away from here, you know? To travel. She did a job once near Chicago. The only one she's ever done outside of San Francisco. That's where she met Dean." He explained as Sam listened carefully. "You guys do that, you travel around hunting monsters. I think she'd like something like that."

It wasn't hard for Sam to understand what Peter was asking. And the idea of you traveling with them didn't bother him at all. Part of him hoped that you wanted to help Dean as much as he.

"You know that would mean you may not see her for a long time."

"I don't care. I want her to be happy."

One thing that neither Peter nor Dean nor Sam knew was that you already knew about the deal Dean had made to save his brothers life. You knew Dean had little time left before he would be sent to hell. That demon had told you everything, with the sole purpose of hurting you. Because that's what that demon had been doing since you turned 10.

Your battle with that demon was yours alone. That was why you had lied to the Winchester brothers when they had asked you about your attacker. And it was also one of the reasons why going with them and leaving San Francisco seemed like the best idea. So you could hunt him down.

Except for the fact that it would mean spending a significant amount of time with Dean.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

You left the hospital the following day. You had to rest and take some medicine, but the injuries weren't too serious and your ribs would heal on their own. Besides, you were already used to the bruises.

When you and your father arrived at the house, the Winchester brothers were still there. Dean wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Sam had insisted on waiting for you to return. So while Dean was gathering his things, Sam was with Peter. At the younger Winchester's request, the boy was showing him some of the books on supernatural history that his father stored.

Their conversation got interrupted when the curly-haired blond rushed into your arms, happy to have you back home. A groan of pain left the your lips at the jolt, but that didn't stop a loving smile from appearing on your lips.

Dean heard you from upstairs, but he made no effort to join you. Minutes later, he was too focused on his own thoughts to notice your presence in the doorway of the room where he and his brother had stayed over those last couple of nights.

"A deal with a demon, Dean, really?" He turned around at the sound of your voice, meeting your gaze.

"How did you...? Did Sammy tell you?"

"No. He didn't tell me anything." You quickly assured, which only made him more confused. "I lied before. When he asked me about the man who'd attacked me and kidnapped Kaila." You admitted, sitting down on the edge of one of the beds. Dean watched you closely, listening to your words. "I lied. I did knew him. Not with that face, though. He's a demon I tried to hunt down a few months ago. I didn't succeed and since then he's been after me. He told me about it. Somehow he knew about... us. And he wanted to hurt me."

"So you already knew I was a hunter."

"Well, he wasn't the one I wanted to hear it from. But yeah, he told me." You nodded, looking up at him. "Why'd you do it, Dean?"

"Sammy was dead. I didn't have a choice." His response surprised you. Although it was the only logical reason why anyone would make such a deal. "You would have done the same thing for Peter."

He was right and you knew it. But that didn't stop your heart from shuddering at the mere thought of losing Dean again. After just a few exchanges of words and glances, you felt once again so connected to him that the thought of losing him hurt just as much as the first time.

"They really only gave you a year?" You turned to look at him once again as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed. Dean sighed and nodded. "How long do you have left?"

"A few months." He answered. "And if I try to find a way around it, they'll kill Sam."

"Is that why you came here?" You asked with a frown. "You wanted to apologize before it was to late?"

A sigh left Dean's lips as he turned to look back at you. "I've wanted to apologize from the moment I stepped foot out of that motel room. I cared about you too much. I didn't want you to get hurt."

You didn't know whether to believe him. The last time Dean had said something like that to you it had ended with you waking up in an empty room. But at that very moment, looking into his eyes, you knew he was being completely honest.

"I forgive you, Dean."

"You're just saying that out of pity." He said, turning his gaze away.

"No, I'm not." You assured him, gaining enough courage to take his hand in your. That gesture made Dean flinch, but the familiarity of your touch quickly put him at ease. "That's not the reason. I cared about you too. I still do."

"I don't want to drag you into this."

"You're not. I want to help." You said. "I may not be able to break the deal, but you guys can help me kill this demon that's after me. Peter told me about the Colt. And if you're gonna die, I want to spend whatever time you have left with you. That's of course if you wan-"

"I don't know..." He cut you off, rising to his feet.

"Come on, Dean." You insisted. "We can help each other. Or are you gonna leave Sam just like that?" Dean remained silent, pacing up and down the room. "You were right when you said I'd like him. And if he were Peter... I wouldn't want him to be alone. Plus, I might be able to find a way..."

"You're not going to look for anything." He interrupted you. "I told you, if I try to find a way around it, Sam dies."

"All right." You sighed. "I won't do anything. But..."

"You're won't take 'no' for an answer, are you?" You shook your head. "We leave in 20 minutes." He then said, making you smile.

But, before you could go anywhere with the Winchester brothers, you had to convince your father. Despite being a grown woman of twenty-four, you didn't want to leave without talking to him. You would rather leave things on good terms and discuss the situation.

You knew your father wouldn't be thrilled with the idea, but you had always been good at getting what you wanted from him. Henry also knew you could take care of yourself.

What really worried you was leaving him and your brother alone. Henry was no hunter, he could barely shoot a gun. And even though you had trained Peter to defend himself and they both knew enough about supernatural creatures, you were still worried about leaving them.

"You're not going with them." He answered as he closes his office door.

"Why not? I'll find-"

"It's dangerous." He said, cutting you off.

"I wouldn't hunt alone anymore. And I'd help more people than here." You answered, watching as he walked around the desk to stand in front of you.

"You're hurt." He noted.

"I'll stay out of the fight for a while. I can do research."

"I don't know..."

"I'm going to find that demon, dad." You stated. "They have the Colt, I'll be able to kill him."

"If there's any bullets left. They could have used them all."

"They haven't."

"I hope you're right." He sighed, sitting down. "But I don't want you to put yourself in danger again for this revenge."

"It's more than that and you know it." You answered, sitting in front of him. "I'm doing this to protect us. All of us."

"I know." He whispered, watching you closely. "You won't listen to me, would you?"

"I've never been good at it." You shrugged with an amused smile on your lips.

"No. Neither you or your brother." He sighed. "You two are just like your mother."

"I'll call every day." You promised him.

"You better." He said. "I love you."

"I love you too." You smiled, standing up. "I'll go get my stuff."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Sam was glad to hear that you would be joining them from now on. Part of him hoped you could help him save his brother. Another part of him was just relieved that if Dean finally ended up in hell, he would no longer be completely alone.

He liked you. Without hardly knowing you, he could already see what had made his brother fall in love with you. Aside from being beautiful, you seemed to be a sweet, caring, strong and intelligent person. He honestly couldn't wait to get to know you more.

"Call me anytime, for anything. Seriously, Peter, anytime." You said to your brother as you crouched down in front of him.

"I will. Don't worry about it." He answered, his eyes traveling behind you, where he could see the Winchester brothers leaning against the car, waiting for you. "I've packed a couple of comics in there, in case you get bored and so you don't forget me." He said, handing you a backpack.

"As if I could." You smiled.

"Dad has also put a gift in there. I think it was something from Mom." You looked down at the backpack.

"Would you thank him for me?" You asked, trying not to show the sadness in your voice. Peter nodded.

"Sure."

You nodded slightly, looking back at Sam and Dean.

"Remember, salt, holy water and silver knife under the bed." You said, looking up again at your little brother. "You have the key to my guns and you know where to hide."

"Relax. I've got it." He assured you, as he had already heard you say that just a few minutes before.

"Okay." You whispered.

"We'll be all right."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You nodded. "I know."

"I'll miss you." He said, wrapping his arms around you.

"I'll miss you too, buddy." You smiled, hugging him back. "I love you."

"Love you too."

You had never spent that much time apart from your brother. Peter was like a son to you. Sure, Henry was a loving and caring father, but he was also a very busy one. You had always felt like a mother to him. Every time he had a nightmare, Peter would appear in your bed. Every time something exciting happened to him at school, you were the one he told. You just hoped that the distance wouldn't break the bond between you two.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you broke away from the hug, getting to your feet to join Dean and Sam in the car.

"Ready?" Dean asked as he saw you approaching him.

"Yup." You nodded.

"All right. The back seats are all yours. You won't be driving anytime soon, so make yourself comfortable." He said, opening the driver's door.

You frowned as your hand gripped the door handle. "Why not?"

Dean looked back at you. "Remember the last time I gave you Baby's keys? I won't make the same mistake."

"I've learned since then, you know." You answered. Dean raised his eyebrows, giving you a serious look. "Fine." You sighed, getting inside the car.

Imitating your action, Dean got behind the wheel. His eyes taking one last glance at Peter, who was waving goodbye to you.

"Come on, Dean, stop frowning." You leaned over the back of the front seats, resting your arms on it and placing your head between both brothers. "We might make a good team." You smiled, before slightly nudging the youngest's shoulder. "Right, Sammy?"

Normally Sam wouldn't let anyone besides his brother use that nickname, but he liked the way it sounded when you said it. So with an amused smile he turned to Dean.

"Yeah." He replied, receiving a not-so-amused look from him.

"Is the rule still the same?" You asked, gaining his attention back as he started the car.

"What rule?"

"You know 'driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole'"

"Right." He nodded.

"Well I'm not riding shotgun and I've got some pretty good cassette tapes here." You informed, looking inside the backpack your brother had given you.

"You're not the driver either." He pointed out.

"Come on, Dean." You insisted. Sam smiled in amusement, looking over at his brother. "I've got good taste in music. You said it yourself."

"I must have been drunk."

"Very funny." You rolled your eyes. "But, seriously, we can't listen to the same four albums all the time."

"I've been telling him that for years." Sam commented.

"Maybe on the next stop."

"Really?" They both looked at him with surprise. You with a gleam of hope in your eyes while Sam did with disbelief.

"I said maybe."

"I take that as a yes." You smiled, leaning against the back the seat.

Keep Reading: Chapter 3

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[thearcherprentiss]

Criminal Minds as things my friends have said pt. 2

Emily: "At my funeral I'm going to raise up out of the coffin and say 'you didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?'."

Hotch: "No you will not. I will double kill you if you do that."

(This one is way funnier in the context of Lauren)

Reid: "Why are there no freaking tortillas in this entire goshdarn kitchen?!"

Rossi: "Woah, watch your language there."

*Henry jabbering on about something*

Emily: "Sorry, I can't focus on what you're saying with all of that Cheeto powder on your face."

JJ: "EMILY!"

Emily: "WHAT? You try listening to someone talk when they're Donald Trump orange!"

JJ: "I'm not going to fight Derek, it's beneath me."

Morgan: "The only thing beneath you is some children. Not all of them though... get it? You're short."

JJ: "Derek, I'm literally 5'7"."

Morgan: "I don't like tomatoes."

Emily: "Do you like salsa?"

Morgan: "Yeah of course, who doesn't?"

Emily: "So what I'm hearing is you're a fucking liar?"

JJ: "What did everyone do this weekend?"

Reid: "I wrote a paper on the orbitofrontal cortex of the brain!"

Morgan: "I don't know how much longer I can defend you when you act like this."

Reid: "I wish we had food here like they do in Greece. It's so much better."

Morgan: "At least we still exist. Greece isn't even a country anymore."

Reid: "Yes it is? Do you actively say these things to make me worry about you, or are you just oblivious?"

JJ, eating a microwaveable macaroni cup: "Something is off about this..."

Hotch: "Did you check the expiration date?"

JJ, emotionlessly: "*checks* It expired last year. That would explain it. *takes another bite*"

Hotch: "???"

Tara: "I think I'm telepathic."

Matt: "Why do you say that?"

Tara: "Someone was tailgating me on my way here today, and I was like 'sir I will fuck you up' in my mind, and he stopped immediately."

Luke: "Woah, maybe you are telepathic."

Tara: " That or he saw me flip him off."

Matt, facepalming: "I- nope. Never mind."

Morgan: "Well?"

Rossi: "The dog was cute, but the video was weird."

Morgan: "Your face is weird!"

JJ: "Wow, did my son teach you that burn?"

*Emily glaring at JJ*

JJ: "Why are you looking at me like that? You've been doing it all day."

Emily: "I had a dream that you had sex with Morgan last night!"

JJ: "And you're mad at ME? I should be mad at YOU for conjuring that in your subconscious!"

Morgan, playing with the kids: "Touch your nose! Now touch your ears! Now touch your hair!"

Jack: "You don't have any hair."

Morgan: "Hotch... come get your son right now."

Emily: "I don't like that guy."

Luke: "What'd he do?"

Emily: "He gave himself the nickname 'possum', and while that's not outrightly bad, it's highly questionable."

*Reid comes in with a broken bone*

Morgan: "This wouldn't have happened if you'd had more milk as a kid."

Reid: "Morgan, I was allergic."

Morgan: "Dairy allergies are fake. Just produce lactase. It's not that hard."

Reid: "I am both impressed that you know what lactase is and offended that you think I would choose to not eat cheese."

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

[c-m-stuff]

Safe Again

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

-Description: You and Spencer are married. You two have a beautiful son, but suddenly he is involved in a school shooting.

-Warnings: Angst, having a child, school shooting (no one gets hurt, except the shooter)

-Word count: 1318

-Note: (Repost from Wattpad!) It's horrible this happens often, and I'm so sorry for the ones who have experienced this. I hope, everyone is okay and safe. Also, let's say this is around season 7 referring to the kids age. Much love <3

Masterlist

Y/N POV:

'Admit it, pretty girl. I won the game.' Derek stated, while we all were sitting in the conference room.

'Yeah, only because you cheated!' I said back, with a chuckle on my face.

'No, I didn't!'

'Yes, you did.' my husband confirmed, while the others nodded.

Just as Derek wanted to argue back, Aaron came in with a rush. We all got quiet, looking at his concerned state. It made us also worried.

'We need to leave, now.' he spoke in a serious voice, meaning it.

'Hotch, what's wrong?' Emily asked, as we all looked up at him, confused.

'There is a school shooting.' he started, as we all got up immediately, but he stopped us.

'In the school of our kids.' he finished, all our eyes wide, full of fear and concern.

Our son, Henry and Jack, went all to the same school. However, they weren't the same age. Jack is a little bit older, while Henry and (Y/S/N) are almost the same age. But, they were best friends, which is great.

We took as quick as we could our stuff, running towards the black SUV's. I sat next to Spencer, holding his hand tightly. I looked him in the eyes, with concern and fear. Spencer looked at me the same way.

_________________________

Finally, we all made it into the school, already wearing our bulletproof vests. Just as we stepped out of the SUV's, we heard the loud sound of shooting. My heart went faster and faster, worse scenarios taking my thoughts over. A single tear, escaping my eye.

'HOTCH!' suddenly Derek yelled, as just on time, he shot.

The unsub, collapsed on the ground, while crying it our from the pain. He tried to shoot at us, the first thing when we arrived, but luckily Derek didn't let him. Derek ran over to him, making sure his weapon was out of sight, and cuffing the shooter.

There was standing an officer, who probably made the call, waiting for us. We all walked, with high speed, towards him.

'Is there another shooter?' Aaron tried to ask him as normal as possible, but we could hear his shaking voice.

'That was the only one. We all heard shots a few times, but I don't know if anyone got hit.'

'Alright, Reid, Prentiss, Morgan and I, are bringing the kids in safety downstairs. JJ, Rossi and (Y/L/N), you do that upstairs.' Aaron ordered, as we all nodded, before entering.

Just like he had said, me, JJ and David, went upstairs. We first called all the children with us, saying they were safe, and that they needed to go outside. As we had all the kids, and the classrooms were empty, David offered to bring them, together with the teachers, outside. JJ and I, thanked him, and went to look for our own children, as they weren't with the rest of the kids.

We both went different directions, calling out their names, looking in every classroom. My heard raced as crazy, as I tried not to breakdown, from fear and concern.

I went inside a classroom, seeing nobody.

'(Y/S/N), Henry, Jack!' I called out, as suddenly I heard footsteps running towards me.

'Mommy! Auntie (Y/N)! Aunt (Y/N)!' the three familiar voices, making me sign out a breath of relief.

To be clear, I wasn't technically their aunt, which I don't mind. But, I've spent a lot of time with them, and they started to call me also "auntie (Y/N)" or "aunt (Y/N)", making me really happy.

I squatted down, while spreading my arms open, as the three boys ran into my arms. I hugged them tight, and pressed a kiss on each of their heads.

'Omg, there you are. We all were so worried. Are you guys okay? Are you in any pain?' I asked them, slightly releasing them from the hug.

'We don't have pain, mommy.' my son said, as they nodded their heads in agreement.

Their eyes were still filled with fear, and I could see, that they have cried.

'Everything is okay now. We have the bad guy, he can't come anymore. You are all safe.' I assured them, as they calmed down.

'Let's find your mommy, Henry, and you daddy, Jack. They are really worried about you.'

'Do you want to hold my hands?' I asked them, as they immediately took them.

I stood up, (Y/S/N) holding my left hand, while Henry was holding my right. Jack, holding Henry's hand.

I walked out of the classroom, as I just saw JJ across the hallway, leaving a classroom, only to quickly go to another. She was with her back towards us, causing me to call her.

'JJ!' she turned around, as a weight fell off her shoulders.

'MOMMY!' Henry yelled, as he let go of my hand, running in the arms of the blonde.

'Henry, I was so worried. Are you alright? Oh, come here.' she lifted him up, hugging him.

She thanked me, with appreciation on her face. I smiled, happy the two had reunited. In the meanwhile, I was holding Jack's hand with my right, as we walked closer to them.

'DADDY!' Jack yelled, as he also let go of my hand, running towards his father, who just took the stairs.

Aaron immediately lifted him up, hugging him also closely.

'There you are. Is everything okey? You're safe now, buddy.' he reassured his son, also whispering a "thank you", as I replied with a smile.

'Hotch, have you seen Spence?'

'Yeah, he's looking worriedly downstairs.'

'Thanks.'

I squatted down again, meeting our beautiful son.

'Let's go find daddy.' I said to him, as I lifted him up. I pressed a kiss on his head, still so relieved he is okay. Relieved that everyone is okay.

I went downstairs with him, as I saw, Derek, David and Emily, just leaving a classroom, still looking for the missing kids.

'Oh, you have him.' Emily breathed out a sigh of relief, they all did.

'Yeah, Henry and Jack are also fine.' I answered, as they relaxed more.

'That's good. No one got hurt, by the way.' Emily spoke out, putting a smile on my face.

'That's great. Do you guys know where Spencer is?'

'He's looking here somewhere.' Derek answered, as I thanked them, before leaving to find Spencer.

'Sweetheart, do you want to call your daddy, please?' I asked our son, as he nodded.

'DADDY!' he yelled, as Spencer rushed out of a classroom. Once he saw us, he ran towards us.

'Gosh, are you both okay? Are you hurt, buddy?' he said, worriedly, as I handed our son to him.

(Y/S/N), shook his head, while his dad hugged him tight.

'I found him with Henry and Jack, they're all fine. No one got hurt.' I assured him, as I planted a kiss on his cheek. He did the same with me, before my phone began to rang.

Seeing who was calling, I answered my phone, and putted it on speaker.

'Finally, someone picks up. Please, please, tell me the children are alright.' I heard Penelope, concern raising her voice.

'Everyone is fine, Penny. No one got hurt, and we found (Y/S/N), Henry and Jack.'

'Thank goodness, you all need to bring the kids to here, I need to cuddle them.' she joked, but deep down, she meant it.

'Will do, Penny.' and, with that, everyone went back to the BAU, with the kids.

_________________________

[resowrites]

Rogue’s Company - oneshot.

Summary: Henry and his wife become parents…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC

Warnings: fluff, mention/some detail of birth (I’ve tried to write as sensitively as possible but please avoid if you’re unsure), banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2095

A/N: This was supposed to go up next week but I’ve just got too much on. There are a few more pieces that I can post asap but I’m also happy to leave the story here - let me know if you want more.

Please note: as I've tried to write this story as both standalone oneshots and an ongoing series, I now have to use more imagery to flesh out this arc and I'm aware this may disappoint some of you. But I want you all to know, whether you're a regular reader of mine or not, I will always adore and support you no matter who you are or what you look like. Please also note: this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. Love you guys ~ R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Rogue's Company.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the soft but unnatural light. At first, she didn't recognise the off-white walls, punctuated at intervals by bland pictures. After a while, she could hear a strange muffled sound. She realised someone was speaking. "Ollie? Are you awake?" It was Henry.

"W-where… am I?"

"The hospital, darling. You've been asleep the last six hours." Then it dawned on her. She'd given birth that morning.

"Where… where is he?" He smiled softly.

"He's fast asleep, as you should be. Come on, close your eyes." Henry smoothed her hair and hushed her softly, but a burning desire stopped her from slipping back into the depths of sleep. She had to see him.

"Where is he?" His brow furrowed slightly.

"He's just over there, darling. Don't you remember? He guzzled a whole bottle of milk and fell right to sleep…”

"Need to see him--" she tried to sit up slightly but pain shot through her stomach. Her grimace made Henry hold her down by the shoulders.

"Oh no you don't. You've got to try and relax for me darling, or you'll hurt worse." He eyed the buzzer above the bed, wondering if he should call the nurse. That morning suddenly flooded back to her. She remembered the high blue screen, the nauseating sensation as her stomach was pulled apart until… cries. Soft at first and then harder, stronger. They'd had a son. Her need to see him grew desperate.

"Darling, please. I must see him." Henry bit his lip but decided the only thing to do was to wheel the trolley over to her side. He did so painfully slowly, eager not to wake the little bundle wrapped within it. When Henry finally came to a stop, a smile spread across his face. Her eyes were glued to him immediately. Swathed in a white blanket and fitted with a tiny knitted hat, their baby boy was divine. His small fists were bundled up by his cheeks but his bottom lip stuck out, making his expression carefree.

"He's so lovely, isn't he?" He whispered though she could hardly find the words. Instead, tears filled her exhausted, heavy eyes. Henry gently wiped her face as her eyes screwed shut. "Oh darling, you're in pain aren't you?" When she didn't respond, he pressed the red button to the top left of her hospital bed. Moments later, an older woman in bright blue scrubs breezed into the room.

"Good afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Cavill! I was just about to check on you both. How are you dear? Is your stomach giving you grief?" But Ollie couldn't tear her eyes away from the small bundle to her left.

"Sorry, she's a bit preoccupied…" Henry nodded toward their son.

"Ah, well that's alright. I just need to do a couple of checks and then I can bring you both up some dinner if you’d like?" He tried repeating the offer to his wife but her attention was still fixed solely on their little boy. The nurse went about checking her as quickly and carefully as she could. She also gave her some stronger pain relief. But instead of feeling sleepy, Ollie rallied and became fully aware that she was now a mother. Her sobs came hard and fast.

"Darling, what is it?" The nurse patted Henry gently on the arm.

"It's alright, it's just overwhelming isn't it?" Ollie nodded, somewhat embarrassed that she was feeling so overcome. "I just need to take him for a few minutes so I can see how he's doing as well?" She felt reluctant for anyone to go anywhere near him, but she was hardly in a position to resist. He stroked her hand and reassured her when she could hear their little boy stir the minute he was placed on a table at the other end of the room.

"Is he alright?! You're not hurting him?!" Henry and the nurse chuckled.

"He's fine darling! And I'm sure once the nurse is done she'll let you hold him?" He looked over at her for confirmation.

"Yes, of course! But you'll have to support his bottom, she won't be strong enough just yet to hold him by herself. Let me see now, he's still six pounds, three ounces, and eighteen inches long…" Ollie craned her neck to try and get a better view.

"Has he still got two balls?" She swatted Henry with her hand but immediately regretted it when the sensation reverberated through her stomach. She gathered her strength to try and sit up properly. He dashed to help her.

"I'm fine love, stop fussing over me… are those measurements okay? It seems pretty small." The nurse smiled softly as she put their son back in his babygrow.

"It's somewhat on the small side but he's all good, you've got a very sweet little boy. Well, I'll leave you three to it. I'll be back with dinner in about half an hour, if you need help using the bathroom just buzz. For now, try and get some rest and when you're ready with a name, just let me know." She then smiled, handed their son over to Henry, and made her way from the room. For a while, he just stood holding him, rocking gently back and forth. His whimpering hadn't quite died down but Ollie couldn’t stand it any longer.

"Henry, I can't see him! Please, put him on my chest--"

"Alright, alright, here he is…" Henry ducked down, careful not to put too much pressure on either her chest or stomach. Immediately she was struck by his eyes - bright blue like his father’s. She felt her lip tremble. He just chuckled softly. "So… what do you think? He woke up an hour after you fell asleep and just gurgled away happily in his cot. He hasn't cried once!" She stared down at his little face and felt a strange sensation spread through her chest. It was pure, unconditional love.

"He's… glorious. Even though he looks just like you!" It was true. From the dark tufts of hair on his head to the strong jaw and double chin, there was no denying who his father was.

"Yeah, but he's got your ears, look," Henry rotated him slightly so she could see the side of his head.

"Well that's a relief…" They both laughed. “Wow. I can't believe we made that…" He laughed again.

"I know, I still can't even believe he's here! It feels like only yesterday you told me you were pregnant…" Henry kissed her cheek for what felt like the hundredth time that day. But her eyes were still glued to their son who was cooing to himself.

"Bloody hell… he's chatty like you as well."

"You should have heard him earlier, he was having a whole conversation with the nurse--" He lifted him up to place him back in the cot.

"No, don't. Don't take him away!"

"But darling my arm's going dead! I'm just putting him back down for a little while so you can rest…"

"Fine, but pull that trolley down a bit so I can still see him…" Henry did as he was told, smiling at her enraptured face.

"So, I take it you're pleased then?"

"Pleased? I'm besotted. I never want him out of my sight again--"

"You know you cried and cried when they had to take him away to clean him up?" Her eyes narrowed.

"Really? I have no memory of that…" A pit opened in his stomach.

"Do you remember him being born?" She tried to think.

"Only in fragments. I remember his cries, and that he was all slippery. Apart from that my head's still foggy." Henry crouched over and stroked her head.

"It'll probably come back to you as you recover. The surgeon also did a great job, the incision wasn't that big as he's only a wee thing--"

"It certainly doesn't feel small…" She winced as her mind fell back to the soreness she could feel at the base of her stomach.

"Well, give the drugs a chance to kick in, and if you don't feel better in a little while I'll call the nurse back. So, do we have a name?" A small smile curled her lips.

"Yep. Hal."

"Hal?"

"Yeah, don't you like it?"

"Of course, but why that name?"

"Don't you know your Shakespeare? It's short for Henry. You know, as in Henry IV? And you call yourself an actor—"

"You… you wanna name our boy after me?"

"Well, technically Henry V…" She smiled mischievously but he was too choked to speak. "What I also like is that it rhymes with Kal." Henry snorted.

"Hmm, are you sure you don't want to wait until the morphine wears off?" She gave him a knowing look. "Fine, Hal it is! But if he's named after me then it's only fair he's named after you as well--"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean his middle name should be Oliver. What do you think?"

"My name isn’t Oliver, you little shit!" She went to thwack Henry only for the pain to pull her back to the bed. He smirked.

"Mmm, it’s gunna be a fun couple of weeks… and technically it is! You were named after Oliver—"

"Yes, yes, alright. Hal Oliver, it is. Poor little sod. Well, in for a penny, in a pound, let's use another of your names—"

"What, you mean Dalgliesh?"

"No, you twat, William." Henry snorted but felt pride swelling in his chest once again.

"Hal Oliver William. You know that spells 'How?' He could go by Howie—"

"Yeah, no." He laughed.

"Well 'Hal's' perfect, just like him. And his Mum." Henry leaned closer to kiss her on the forehead. "Well done, darling. I'm so, so proud of you."

"I'm just grateful he's here and doing okay--"

"Me too. Can you believe we're parents? It feels so weird!"

"It does. But in a way, it also feels like he's always been here, as a part of us… I know that doesn't make sense."

"No, I know what you mean. I just couldn't imagine life without him now. We're a family of five! Oh my God, my mum and dad are going to be so thrilled—"

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yeah, though I haven't sent a picture. I wanted to wait until you were awake. Shall I take one of you holding him? That way we can send it to everyone?" She smiled and nodded. But just as he went to pick up their son, the nurse shuffled back into the room wheeling a tray of fresh sandwiches and a bowl of strawberries. "Oh, great, I'm hungry." Ollie giggled and the nurse smiled in her direction.

"Well, I'm glad to see you looking a bit brighter! Just let me quickly check you over again and then I'll get out of your hair. How are you feeling now?"

"Elated," she sighed.

"He is a gorgeous little thing. The spitting image of his father, right down to the chin!"

"It's alright, I still love him…" Henry and the nurse burst out laughing.

"So, have you settled on a name?" They smiled at each other.

"Yes, our son is called Hal Oliver William," her voice broke.

"What is it, darling?!"

"It's nothing, it's just… that's the first time I've ever called him our son." He brushed the tears from his own cheeks and gave her another kiss.

"Aww, that's wonderful! I'm so thrilled for you both. And it looks like you're recovering well, your blood pressure's good too. When you're feeling a little stronger, you can have a walk around and take a shower. All being well, you can all head home in the next day or so. Well, I'll leave you three in peace. Just buzz if you need anything." In a whirl, she was gone. Henry began breaking the sandwiches into smaller pieces so he could feed Ollie directly. Normally she'd have fed herself but she was grateful for the help as her whole body still ached from the procedure.

"There we are, just try and have a little bit for me." He beamed at her, still feeling shocked and relieved it was all over. Henry knew their lives would never be the same, but already parenthood was proving to be so much better than he'd expected. He felt like the three of them could take on the world. "Well, my darling girl, are you happy?" She swallowed her small mouthful and gazed up at Henry.

"The happiest I've ever been in my whole life."

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[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 7: accidental cryotherapy @whumperless-whump-event

this one is a bit longer than i usually write but i had so much fun writing it I LOVE THESE GUYS

falling through a frozen lake / hypothermia / “hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake."

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Simon

whumpee: Archie

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Archie really should have been used to the cold by now, considering he’d lived in the city for his entire life. Despite that, he couldn't help that it somehow seemed to catch him by surprise every year.

The snow fell gently around him, making the usually bustling streets seem just a little bit calmer. No one wanted to be out in this kind of weather, after all. He could even see his breath come in puffs every time he exhaled. It was kind of.. mesmerizing.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a sweet voice coming from below him.

“Thank you so much son!” The little old lady he had rescued from a mugger said, while viciously shaking Archie’s hand. It was gloriously warm, a welcome contract to his numb fingertips. Still, the strength behind it was surprising for how frail the woman looked.

“Oh, it’s really no problem ma’am, none at all! Just doing my part!” He said cheerfully. “I can escort you home if you’d like—”

He was cut off by police chatter coming in through his earpiece. He listened in with a grave expression for a few moments before his jaw set in determination. There had been an accident. One involving the frozen lake in the city park.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, but I have to go, I’ll make sure one of the officers escorts you home, okay?"

“Oh that’s alright dear, you’ve been more than enough help.. you get on home and warm up, okay?” She hummed, patting Archie’s cheek.

Archie laughed a bit before setting off. He wouldn’t be warming up anytime soon, that was for sure. Still, at least that lady would be able to. That was what made the job always worth it. Someone got to go home safely now because of him, and that was enough.

Now, back to the issue at hand.

He ran the situation through his mind as he began his sprint to the city's park. Luckily the mugging had happened only a few blocks away, so he would get there before emergency services.

Apparently, a couple of high school students had been messing around by the lake and one of them had fallen in. None of the others were able to get him out and he was trapped under the ice. The kids said it had only been a few seconds before they called the police, but still, the thought of a kid losing air while simultaneously freezing to death disturbed Archie deeply. It made him run just a little bit faster.

It was actually getting rather difficult to run. Archie's Vigil suit wasn't very weather friendly, and he found himself faltering every few steps from the lack of feeling in his toes. Still, he braved the cold and soldiered on.

Eventually, 2 silhouettes came into view as Archie approached the lake. The 2 kids were scrambling at the river bank, panicked, and he could hear their argument from twenty feet back.

“You were the one who dared Henry to do it!”

“Yeah well you egged him on! You encouraged it! It's both of our faults!”

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for this!”

Archie walked right up to them, holding up a placating hand.

“I don't care who's fault it was. I need you to show me where your friend fell through. Now.” He barked. Usually. he’d take the time to calm the bystanders and reassure them that everything would be okay, but the seconds were precious and there was a kid drowning.

Both students shut up and shakily pointed to a spot about 8 feet from the river bank.

Archie sucked in a breath.

He quickly scanned the area for anything he could use, but unfortunately he was quite ill-equipped. He knew it was dangerous to go out on the ice, lest it breaks again, but it was looking more and more like it was his only option.

With a sharp exhale, he got down on all fours, then lowered himself to his belly as he began scooting across the ice towards the break. It was times like these that he was immensely grateful for his heightened vision, because he was able to see the outline of a squirming body through the ice. Good, he thought, he’s still partially conscious, at least. It's not too late.

Finally, his fingers found purchase at the edge of the ice, and not a moment too soon as his front was starting to sting from the contact with it. A shudder his frame as he inhaled deeply to steel his nerves.

In he goes.

He slipped head-first through the hole in the ice and immediately his vision when white with the sheer cold. He fought the urge to gasp. God, who knew the cold could hurt this bad. It was like every cell in his body started seizing up at once, and his head was going to explode.

He clenched his jaw and brought his focus back to the present. He didn’t have time to dwell on the pain. He had a job to do. 

He forced his eyes open, which stung viciously from the frigid water, and scanned the murk for the kid. Henry, he heard them say. He saw a limb flail from a silhouette a few feet away.

He kicked towards Henry and reached out. His stiff fingers wrapped around the thrashing arm and held it steady. Got him.

He pulled Henry tight to his body, and looked down to see wide eyes looking up at him. Despite his own compromised state, he forced himself to flash the kid a soft smile to put him at ease. Henry vaguely returned it.

He kicked up towards the surface, again, using his enhanced vision to scan for the hole they both came in through. He reached up and finally found the jagged edge of the ice. Bingo. He and the kid breached the surface with a gasp.

Archie coughed wetly as he pushed Henry up onto the ice.

Henry coughed just as violently, letting out a weak cry as he scrambled for the edge, trying desperately to pull himself up. Archie had to physically restrain his arms to keep him from breaking more ice and drowning them both.

He wanted to explain that the ice would only hold one of them, so they had to be strategic about how they got back to the bank. He tried to explain that the kids on the bank had to grab Henry’s feet and pull, but his teeth were chattering too violently to even form a word. Not to mention the bitter, unrelenting cold was all his mind could focus on. If things weren't bad already, he was treading water to hoist the kid up but his legs were rapidly losing feeling. He had to act fast.

“Pull!” he managed to shout, shoving the kid up and onto the ice. With an adrenaline-induced feat of strength, he managed to slide him across the ice and towards the bank.

Luckily, the students were able to catch on. They grabbed Henry’s ankles and dragged him to the grass, all collapsing in an exhausted and shaken heap once he was on solid ground.

The ambulance sirens rang through the night air a few moments later, and Archie vaguely felt panic bubble up within him. If the ambulance found him, they would take him to the hospital. At the hospital, they would take off his mask and people would see his face. His identity would be revealed. He couldn’t have that happen.

But he was still halfway in the freezing pond and rapidly losing sensation all throughout his limbs. He needed to get out fast.

With fleeting strength, he managed to yank himself up onto the ice as wheezing coughs wracked his body once again.

The adrenaline must have had a second wind, because he was able get himself to his hands and knees and shuffle across the ice. Once he made it to the riverbank, he hauled his himself to his numb feet and began staggering towards the trees.

He kept going until he was sure he was out of view. Those boys would never know who really saved them, but maybe it was for the better. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this anyways.

He vacantly wondered if he should be shivering.

Things started happening in short bursts. He was so cold, and his vision was starting to blur at the edges. His suit was sopping wet and his feet were completely numb as he trudged through the falling snow. Suddenly, his foot caught on a divot in the ground and it sent him unceremoniously crashing to his knees. He couldn't even register the pain of the bones knocking against the pavement.

His entire body was numb. He wasn’t shivering. Snow was falling on him and stayed perfectly intact, not even beginning to melt.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that this was bad. Very bad. Needed-to-call-someone-or-he’d-die kind of bad.

It took great mental effort, but he somehow pulled out his phone and watched as it nearly slipped from his clumsy hands. He wasn’t even registering the feeling of the phone in his hand at this point. This confused him.

It was painfully slow, but he managed to open Simons contact. If anyone knew how to help him, it would be Simon. Simon was always there for him. He was steadfast and warm. Yeah, Simon could help him.

He tapped out a message that simply read, “cold. help” before letting his phone fall to the ground.

He sank to his knees and hugged his arms close to his body, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. Everything was viciously numb and he felt himself blink dizzily. His mind suddenly felt as if it was moving through molasses.

..What was he doing out here again?

Oh right. Highschoolers. Frozen lake. That was stupid of them. He remembered his mother's voice telling him to stay away from the edge of the riverbank when he was a kid.

He distantly wondered if their mother's told them the same thing.

He missed his mom. She would always make him hot cocoa and puff warm air on his hands and fluff his blankets in the drier when he came in from playing in the snow.

Why wasn't she here now?

Was anyone coming for him?

Was he going to freeze to death in this park? Alone and scared?

He was starting to regret hiding from the paramedics.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, mind a million miles away, but suddenly, he heard the rapid crunching of snow in front of him. He wanted to look up, he really did, but he found his muscles wouldn’t respond to his demand. He must have been dreaming.

“Archie! There you are!” Simon breathed, kneeling beside his friend. "Shit.."

Simon fumbled with his gloves, but eventually worked his hand out and pressed his fingers to Archie’s neck to gauge his pulse. He nearly gasped at how cold the skin beneath them were. He gently lifted his face to get a better look at him. His pulse was there, but it was alarmingly weak.

His lips were sickly blue and his eyes were hazy and unfocused. He didn’t’ even seem to recognize Simon right in front of him. The worst part, though, was the eery stillness. Archie was too silent and too unmoving. Simon needed to get him shivering and quick.

Simon brushed his fingers across Archie’s cheek, to which Archie let out a pained gasp and recoiled away.

“Burns..” He slurred, letting his head loll to the side.

“You’re just frozen, Archie..” Simon muttered, shrugging off his own coat and buttoning it around Archie’s limp form. He chafed up and down his arms, attempting to coax warmth into his frozen friend.

“We need to get you to my apartment.. can you walk?”

“Simon..” He finally whimpered, blinking blearily at the other. Simon could have sworn he saw a glint of desperation in Archie's eyes.

“Right, stupid question. Onto plan B,” He huffed, hooking his arms under Archie's legs and around his shoulders. He let out a stifled gasp at just how cold he really was.

As soon as they were in the car, Simon blasted the heat as high as it would go, and he still saw no improvement in Archie’s condition. On the contrary, Archie just seemed to grow even more drowsy. Simon gently shook Archie’s knee, hoping to get him to stir.

“Hey, c’mon.. you gotta stay awake.. at least until we’re home..” He pleaded, speeding up the car just a bit.

Archie gave a wet cough and let his head fall forward, still seemingly unaware of his surroundings.

“We’re almost home.. I promise..”

Once the car was parked, Simon made quick work of carrying Archie up the stairs and getting him situated on the couch. He helped him peel off the wet clothes, and then covered him with mounds and mounds of blankets. He then plugged in every space heater he owned, safety concerns be damned, and pointed them right at the heap of bedding. 

He recalled everything he had ever learned about treating hypothermia.

Bring out of the cold. Check.

Remove wet clothing. Check.

Insulate with blankets and towels. Check.

Apply warm compresses.

Right.

Simon jogged to his closet in the hallway and rummaged around before finding some old hot water bottles. They were a bit rudimentary, but they would have to do. He left Archie on the couch while he swiftly boiled water and filled them. He then wrapped them in hand towels and returned to Archie with his arms full of glorious warmth.

Archie blinked up at him, and Simon noticed, with great relief, the tremors that wracked his body. They were violent and all-consuming, but at least he was shivering.

“C-Can.. can I t-take a hot ba-bath..” He slurred, looking up at Simon with pleading eyes.

The sight shattered his heart into a million pieces. Simon sighed softly.

“I’m sorry.. we can’t risk you going into shock.. we’ll warm you up other ways, okay?” He murmured, carefully peeling back the layers of blankets.

At that, Archie gave another intense shudder as his pale skin was exposed to the air. A soft cry escaped his lips as he instinctively curled in on himself.

“H-Hurts..” He whimpered, clawing at the blankets.

“I know, I know..” Simon whispered, leaning over to place a heat pack on Archie's chest. He then laid one on his neck and groin and replaced the blankets around him.

"There.. that should help you feel a bit warmer," Simon explained softly, giving Archie another once-over.

The shivering only got more vicious as Archie seized up with every small movement. His teeth were chattering violently and the force of the trembling even shook the couch.

“S-Simon.. Simon I’m so cold.. c-can’t.. can’t take it,” He sobbed, trying to sink further into the fabric around him.

Simon felt his heart shatter even more. He’d seen Archie come back from having a building collapse on him, and he still didn’t look as pitiful as he did now. Even though he was more lucid now, his eyes still had that far-away look at made Simon just want to hold him close and tell him he'd be alright.

So he did.

He vaguely remembered hearing in one of his classes that body heat could be effective at warming someone up and.. well, no time like the present.

Simon lifted the covers and carefully slid in beside Archie, getting himself settled before turning towards him and opening his arms.

“C’mere.. this will help..” He muttered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feign annoyance. Not when Archie was looking at him like he just told him he’d won the lottery.

Archie immediately latched himself onto Simon’s side, and now Simon could really feel how much Archie was shaking. His entire frame was convulsing with ferocious shakes that had to hurt. Archie would definitely be feeling it in the morning.

Still, Simon wrapped his arms around Archie and drew him closer. He gently smoothed a hand up and down Archie’s back in an attempt to soothe him, and if the way Archie leaned into it was any indicator, it was working.

After a while of comfortable silence, save for the soft chattering of Archie’s teeth, the shivers finally began to ease up. They were still there and rather exhausting no doubt, but they weren’t so intense anymore.

Simon thought of his mental checklist again, and recalled something about a warm drink to help with the chills. He'd been laying with Archie long enough, and surely he would appreciate a steaming cup of chamomile.

Simon moved to get up, easing Archie off his arm, to which Archie let out a panicked yelp and all but yanked him back down.

“Woah! I’m just gonna go get you some tea! It’ll help! I promise!” Simon pleaded, huffing a soft laugh.

“No! No.. p-please just.. just stay for a f-few more minutes..” Archie begged, weakly grasping at Simon’s sweater.

Simon playfully rolled his eyes and leaned back, letting Archie snuggle right back up to him.

“Alright.. just a few more minutes..”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 631 words | briefly 18+ and a comment that implies henry looks similar to reader

series masterlist ; main masterlist

“Your wife is gorgeous!” Exclaims Cassie, a girlfriend of one of Sirius’s school friends. She’s had a bit too much to drink, her cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glazed as she sways unsteadily in front of James. He worries she might topple over at any moment.

“I don’t have—” James starts to correct her, his voice tinged with awkwardness. He knows she’s talking about you. Youtwo have been inseparable all night, except for now, as you dance with Sirius across the bar.

“Oh! And your son!” Cassie interrupts, her voice loud and enthusiastic, waving her drink around dangerously. “You two make the most beautiful babies!” She beams at him, her grin wide and tipsy, clearly not registering the odd look on James’ face.

The statement hits him like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of his lungs. It takes him a moment to regain his composure and remember how to breathe. 

You two make beautiful babies.

Without warning, his mind flashes with a vivid image of you in his bed. He sees you lying there, hands gripping the sheets, legs bent and spread open. Your lips are swollen and darkened from his kisses, your eyes filled with a wild, intense longing. He can almost hear your voice, and the way you’d moan so sweetly for him. The way you’d beg him to fuck you raw, to fill you up and make you his. 

Cassie’s words echo relentlessly in his mind, looping with a relentless intensity. 

He takes a deep gulp of his whiskey, hoping the fiery burn will drown out the swirling thoughts that keep resurfacing. The more he tries to push them away, the more vivid they become. He doesn’t need to be consumed by these thoughts right now, but they keep intruding, making his heart race and his mind spin.

“Do you think you’ll have more?” Cassie asks, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. James’s gaze snaps to her, noting how eager she seems to dive into the details.

James’s mouth parts, and he flounders for a moment, struggling to find an answer. He had never considered having more children, especially after the difficult experience with Henry’s mother. But if you were the mother of his children, he could be convinced to have one more.

Or five.

“Hey, uh, babe,” her boyfriend says, wrapping his arm around her waist. She leans into him affectionately. “They’re not together, and Henry isn’t her son.” 

James racks his brain, trying to remember the guy’s name. He only knew Cassie because she had introduced herself so enthusiastically.

Cassie gasps and slaps her hand to mouth, “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s alright, really. A lot of people mistake her for my wife,” James says with a smile, trying to ignore the clench in his stomach at the thought of calling you his wife. And fuck, he wishes you were.

He needs to get out of here. For a fleeting moment, he considers calling Henry’s babysitter to let her know she can head home, as he’s on his way to take over.

“Really, I’m sorry,” she says, her words slightly slurred. “I tend to ramble after a drink.” Her boyfriend catches James’s eye over her shoulder, raising an amused eyebrow. They both know it’s more than just one drink.

The couple strolls away, and James watches them until they disappear into the crowd. He lets out a weary sigh, leaning heavily against the bar as he stares down at the whiskey in front of him. Despite his strong urge to turn around and search for you in the crowd, he knows it won’t ease the dirty images of you in his mind.

He feels a pang of guilt, knowing that you’re his best friend and he can never have you in that way.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[eunchancorner]

You're Safe Here (Tiny Triple Threat)

I love little Ellie. As such, she must be tormented

-

”We’ve identified the parents’ bodies. Josh and Mary Rose, Ellie’s parents, or more specifically, Ellie’s father and step-mother. Her real mother divorced her father, didn’t even fight for custody. She didn’t answer when we tried to contact her. Then there’s Charlie’s parents, Tessa Calvin and Andre Jones. Turns out, Charlie’s real name is Charles. Recently married, from the files we have. Then Henry’s mother, Molly Stickmin. Father died when he was young. No next of kin for any of them, it looks like… We’re contacting the foster systems nearby, but it’s going to take a while. Keep a close eye on ‘em.”

“I will, sir. Goodnight.”

“Night, son.”

“They’re not gonna get better, are they?”

“JESUS- Ellie! What are you doing up so late?”

“I can’t sleep… But… Dad and Mary aren’t gonna get better, are they? Or Charlie’s mom and dad… or Henry’s mom…?”

“I… they… I’m sorry, Ellie…”

“I-it’s okay… I don’t think Dad and Mary liked me much, anyway…”

“Wh-... why’s that?”

“Dad always spends more time with Mary… And Mary gets mad when I call her ‘Mom’... and Dad gets her lots of expensive stuff and yummy, special food and I get little microwave meals… He doesn’t talk to me much… well… he didn’t…”

“Ellie… I-I… I’m sorry…”

“I… I kinda thought something happened to them when they took them into that room…”

“That room? What room?”

“A few weeks before you guys came… they took Dad, Mary, Charlie’s parents and Henry’s mom into a room… and then they came back without them. It made Henry really mad… He got loud… h-he yelled and called them names… th-they got really angry, and took him into the room, too… w-when he came back, h-he was crying, a-and there was blood coming f-from his mouth, but he- he wouldn’t talk… He couldn’t talk a-anymore.”

“I… oh my god, Ellie, I… I’m so sorry… I…”

“D-don’t tell Charlie… h-he really l-liked his parents… I-I don’t want him t-to know yet… H-he’ll get r-really upset…”

“I won’t, don’t worry… I… I didn’t really want any of you to know, yet. I didn’t know that you’d be so… perceptive, or that… Henry had- had seen them… I… didn’t think you guys could handle it yet.”

“Is th-that why we’re really s-staying with you…? B-because they’re gone…?”

“Yeah… That’s the real reason, kiddo… But I promise that I will keep you safe. All of you. At least until we can get you into real homes. You’re safe here, okay? Make sure you and the boys remember that.”

“O-okay… Thank you, Mr. Rupert…”

“Anytime, kiddo… do you need any help getting to sleep?”

“N-no… I-I don’t wanna sleep right now… C-can I stay up…?”

“... Sure, kiddo… Just tell me if you wanna go to bed, okay?”

“Okay…”