#the fucking hug the tenderness the whimpers the choked back sob the everything of it aaaaaaaa

[transgender-rex]

I will not hit post limit Izzy posting I will not hit post limit Izzy posting I will not hit post limit Izzy posting I will not hit post limit i will not i will not i will not

[rcksmith]

Beautiful - Kaz Brekker.

Requests: “Also, the image of Kaz comforting with soft aftercare sobbing hot tears reader after being immensely physically and emotionally overstimulated - lives in my head rent free. Just saying. 💁💁💁”

“29 smut and 4 fluff with the Kaz AU please? Your writing style is ✨immaculate✨”

“hey there! may i request a smut fic on Kaz Brekker x reader with 43, 48 and 54? obviously everything else is your choice :)”

Fluff prompts:

4. “Sweetheart, you’re my entire world”.

Smut prompts:

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

43. “When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”

48. “I only want to please you.”

54. “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, nsfw, dirty talk, overstimulated, Kaz!soft dom.

Word count: 2k.

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake

Requests are closed. Love you❤️

— — — —

Your chest rose and fell frantically, your mouth half-open in a moan or silent scream, your head thrown back on the black pillows, one hand clutching the sheet with the despair of a shipwrecked at sea. The air was hot and heavy and sizzling, the scent of sex and lust had long time flooded the room and now the fragrance only deepened.

His hot tongue licked your most swollen and quivering spot, his lips closing on your absurdly wet crest and sucking with sensual hunger. The electrifying sensation made you want to close your legs for the pleasure and pain of overstimulation. But Kaz kept both hands firmly on your thighs, separating them precisely, allowing him to eat you like a starving man for years. As if he hadn't already fucked you intensely minutes ago.

“Sir!” You moaned loudly, your back arching and hot tears streaming down your eyes.

You sobbed, the sounds already mingling in your stuttering mouth, reducing you to a tearful mess. But Kaz didn't give you relief. His mouth dipped deeper, his lips eating you adoringly, his hands curling around your thigh and pulling you closer. As if it were still insufficient.

“F-fuck-! S -...” Your incoherent scream was lost in throat, sounding absurdly submissive, innocent and desperate.

Brekker chuckled a little arrogantly. The vibration of his laughter hitting your walls so swollen and wet was enough to push you over the edge. The explosion of artifice behind your eyelids make your heart to pound wildly in chest.

Kaz lifted his mouth minutely, looking up at you, his cocky smile still gracing his lips swollen and wet from your orgasm. “ I didn’t know you were so sensitive."

It was a mockery, of course. And you would have rolled your eyes at that bastard if you had the strength. But you were just a mess that was pushed to the bottom of the well, so you just ran your fingers through Kaz's hair, the tears still flowing and the breath coming in a gasp from your lips.

Brekker has always had an overwhelming hunger, especially for you. He already had a controlling and dominant personality, always seen in the highest positions of command, always the boss, and being able to bend you at his feet was such an intense feeling that you never thought it possible for anyone to feel. He was careful at the beginning of the relationship, testing the limits, asking if you were okay and giving you the security password. But as time went on, when Kaz realized that your limit line was too far away, that you loved being tearful mess for him, things got really intense.

And you loved every second. And that's why you provoked so much tonight.

Your smile was mischievous, filled with that facade of fake innocence and prickly puppy dog ​​eyes. Your dress was tight and silky black, hugging your curves the way you knew Kaz couldn't control himself.

You were excited to overwhelming levels. Kaz had been traveling on business for the past three days and you felt much more needy than usual. And he had rules, explicit rules that involved you not can’t to touch yourself alone, your orgasms were his, so seeking relief with yourself wasn't an option.

And now he had arrived and needed to prioritize what the Crows were telling him about what had happened while he was gone. Normally, you would have understood. Kaz was an absurdly busy man, but you couldn't wait any longer. When he called you saying he was arriving at the crow club, you dressed immaculately and went to wait for him there, like just a like a girlfriend who was missing him. Not like a little devil who had much more impure intentions.

You realized that had successfully carried out your plan from the way Kaz looked at you the second he saw you. With hunger, visseral desire and sinful lust. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you. Brekker and you tried to keep up appearances for the rest of the gang, in a fiery game that only the two of you knew. But his hand was glued around your waist the entire time, in a possessive touch.

You had even been distracted a little more by Jesper's jokes when a voice, warm and sinful, whispered huskily in your ear: “When we get home I'm cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”

The two of you already lived together, and Brekker lavished himself on that luxury by banging your back on the door when getting home. In an aggressive kiss, permeated with lust and longing, your body was already hot and you could feel panties wet without him even touching you right.

"I missed you." You whimpered into his mouth, your arms wrapped around his neck as you purposely pressed your breasts against his male chest. "I only want to please you."

"You have no idea how much I missed you." His mouth dipped into your once more, his hands roving possessively over your body.

“I doubt.” You stubbornly teased, just because you wanted more attention. More attention from him.

Kaz smiled that dissolute sideways smile, bringing a hand up to your throat and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

He had already made you come three times. Fucking you and eating you like an insatiable man, never feeling satisfied to see his own cum ooze out of you or feel you cuming.

"Fucking good slut." Another slap was delivered to your left thigh, followed by a possessive squeeze.

Kaz was on top of you again, slamming his mouth into yours in a fierce way, making you taste your own taste. It wasn't a pretty or elegant kiss. Tongues danced at once and your cum mixing with saliva. You sobbed loudly, your hands on his chest, the tears running hot and mixing with your smudged mascara. You were a tearful mess, exuding that submissive innocence. And the way you were vulnerable and at his mercy only fueled his hunger.

Kaz Brekker wanted more.

"Are you going to take my cum inside you like a good girl?" His voice was warm and lusty.

You stuttered, your breath burning in your chest and your pussy swollen with aching clit.

"D-daddy." You whimpered “I-I don't know if I c-can.” Your waist moved to his, and a broken moan escaped as your rubbed against his throbbing cock.

“Oh my poor baby.” His mouth was on your again, his cock rubbing against slippery entrance and swallowing your moans and sobs.

You two had a security password, and Kaz knew damn well you remembered and were perfectly lucid to say it. But the truth was, you didn't want to. You liked hunting, you liked the game, you liked being helpless in his arms and being used like a doll. And you knew Kaz knew that.

"Can't you handle my dick?" He tasted you, the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance.

You threw your head back, a moan along with a loud sob escaping your mouth and hot tears flowing in a steadier rhythm. Your hands were trembling against his chest, breasts rising and falling desperately with your panting breath. You shifted your waist, and Kaz used it to sink deep inside you.

Your scream came broken and fighting breath. Brekker bit his lip hard for the overwhelming pleasure it was to see you like this, feel you like this, enter your pussy and feel you throbbing strongly and sucking his cock inside.

"Fucking hell!" It hit your G-spot, and you felt a sob choke in throat.

Kaz hit again and sank down as far as possible, touching the tip of his cock to the mouth of your uterus and pouring all the hot cum there. For the second time that night.

"Fuck- Daddy!" You squinted your eyes and the scream was caught in your throat by your panting breath.

You pussy burned from overstimulation, her clitoris extremely sore and swollen. The hot tears flowed continually, and you buried your face in the crook of Kaz's neck, whimpering.

"My little princess." Kaz's warm arms encircled you, tracing lazy circles with his thumbs across your warm skin. “You did so, so good. Taking it all like a such good girl.”

You hiccuping. Your legs and hands trembling, your pussy swollen and throbbing. You breath burned in chest and you could have sworn your womb felt filled with Kaz's cum. As if the deep he poured into you, as deep as possible, had reached his goal and filled you up. Completely.

Kaz pulled his dick out of you gently, but pulled your panties back between your legs to keep his cum from leaking out. A realization that made you both moan softly.

“We don't want it to drain do we?" He sprinkled a little kiss on your trembling lips, his right hand wiping the tears from your cheek and holding your face sweetly. “Will you hold my cum inside you like a good girl?”

Even weak and sobbing, you nodded, bending your head to his touch and rubbing your cheek in his hand. Kaz lay down beside you, wrapping his arms around your shivering body and pulling you lovingly into his chest, brushing the strands of sweat from your forehead and wiping away your hot tears with his thumbs.

"My beautiful girl."

Kaz ran his hands over your body in a tender, gentle touch, soothing the trembling in your legs. Pampering your warm skin with loving sweets, splashing a few kisses on youd cheeks and gently nuzzling your hair.

"Sweetheart, you’re my entire world" a kiss to the bridge of your nose was poured "You know that don't you?"

"I know, Kassy." Your voice was low and tired, breathing starting to settle.

You and your body both protested when Kaz got up from the bed and picked you up. His warm arms accommodated you like they were the best refuge in the world, and you were already dozing off when you realized you had been placed in a tub filled with hot water.

You let out a loud moan of complete satisfaction, and Kaz laughed.

“Yeah, I thought you might like that." He played with you and you chuckled softly.

Your eyes remained closed throughout the process. Kaz's hands slid the soap over your skin with such care and affection that you felt a huge wave of love settle in your chest. He kept going through the process, shampooing and creaming your hair and placing his flap-shaped hand over your eyes, preventing the water from falling out when he rinsed the products.

You opened your eyes a few seconds after your hair was clean, and his gaze shifted to your face.

“Hey you.” Kaz smiled and you smiled back.

“I love you.” It was the only way you could find to express everything you were feeling right now.

Kaz sensed the intensity of your feelings by your gaze, and dropped a small kiss on the tip of your nose as he said, “I love you too, Dear. Now let me dry you.”

A/N: what can i say? i am a whore. HAHAHAH anyway, besties, i've opened the tag list now so let me know if you want to be added. Requests are closed. Love you.

Tagged: @glowingatdawn

[cherryjuicegf]

death of a poet

for @whataboutthebard september 16 whump prompt: major character death || geraskier, T, 1.8k, angst, implied/referenced suicide (kind of)

ao3

The greatest act of love, they say, is to die for it.

Jaskier laughed, always laughed at this concept. There’s no doubt, of course, one’s whole life lost as a declaration of love, the highest sacrifice. But not the only one. And it amazed him, how people never seemed to acknowledge anything else, how fairytales of noble knights ended with them throwing their lives away, and for what? For love. Always for love. There was no doubt, and if there was, who was he to utter it?

Still. He wondered, the roots of the poet he was meant to be growing inside him, blooming since childhood. And he wondered, why, why die for love, why not live for it? Why waste this blooming of hearts in the eternal darkness, in grief and the wailing complaint of what could have been? Why, when there is so much beauty in the love of living things? He wondered, always wondered. And his mother smiled, with this faint bitterness of unexpected knowledge, and whispered, you can live for love if you want, sweet child, but one day you’ll understand.

Yet he didn’t understand. And he hated it, hated that he didn’t. Hated that he couldn’t find anything to try and understand in the first place. One day he would understand, yet people smiled at him, flowers bloomed in spring, birds sang on the branches, the wine tasted so sweet and the strings of the lute sounded so magical in the evening hush. And he wondered, always wondered, when would the day come, and what greater love there is, that you’re willing to die for it, even if you don’t lay eyes upon it ever again?

The fire in the hearth suddenly goes out.

A tragic fate, the mage had laughed. True love’s kiss. No one could ever love a monster.

I love him. He’s not a monster.

He’s not?

Geralt’s eyes are glowing in a light Jaskier hasn’t seen before, in a light he never wishes to see again. They’re glowing, and something unworldly glows with them, laughs with the evil memory of fairy tales, and evil sorceresses and true love’s kisses. As the blade glistens dangerously close to his eyes, as he walks backward in trembling steps, he thinks they’re so far away from what would make a beautiful fairytale to tell children before sleep. There will be no happy ending here. Somehow he knows.

There’s a tickle on his fingertips, burning.

The sword whips beside his ear and he stumbles back once more, panting, breath coming out strained. He raises his head, looks at Geralt. Or what he remembers was Geralt. Because now what he sees seems foreign, cold, and the amber in his eyes doesn’t warm him like the sun anymore, instead burns, like a fire which he willingly, inevitably steps into. There’s a lump caught in his throat, a sob screaming to get out. And, as though on instinct, with the strongest pang of guilt numbing his bones, he has to remind himself. He’s not a monster, he’s not a monster. He’s not Geralt. Geralt is not a monster.

For a moment, for the barest of seconds, he meets Geralt’s, no, the man’s eyes and, like the fool, like the poet he is, he hopes. “Geralt,” he says and his voice shakes weakly with the terrifying hint of denial, “Geralt, it’s me, please.” The air is ripped by the blade once again, he steps back, eyes still locked with amber. A whimper. “Come back to me, love, please. I love you, come back.”

For a moment, for the barest of seconds, the sun entering from the narrow, stained window reflects on Geralt’s eyes and something familiar glints behind them, a distant scream of a heart wailing to get out. But it’s only for a moment. Because Geralt growls and lowers his sword again with maniacal force and Jaskier screams, ducks and falls on his knees in an ironic parody of a plea for mercy. There’s a feeling of wetness on his bicep and he hisses as crimson blood stains the white sleeve. Not his fault, Jaskier reminds himself, not his fault.

It’s not his fault, yet he wants to cry as he stares into his eyes, cold like the blade that threatens to tear him to pieces, cold like the countless winter nights he’s spent without him, cold like his hand as he grasps it desperately, pushes him back in a failed attempt to trap him, in a foolish, hopeless hope of making him throw the sword away.

A true love’s kiss, he thinks, and almost laughs, because it sounds more like a death wish. And he’s starting to think it will be.

And then he sees Geralt raising his hand and before he has time to think about it, he’s being swept back with the most violent wind, and falls head first on the wall behind him. And slumps to fall on his knees. But there’s a sudden sting on his abdomen and he opens his eyes just in time to see the silver blade pointed on tender skin and jolts back with a gasp, stuck on the wall. “Fuck, Geralt,” he pants and looks at him and, for some reason, he expects his stare to be requited. It is. But it’s empty. It’s empty, and the sword on his stomach tickles painfully and the room is whirling. He blinks hard, gasps again. He can’t hold on, he knows.

And as he gazes at Geralt, he remembers. Warmth. Faint smiles, fingers down his back. Lips tasting of sweet wine, and flowers on his hair, and sleepy eyes staring at him before dropping, and love, and safety, and home . And finally, finally he understands.

He hates that he understands. But then again, the blade is cold like a hug full of regrets and Geralt’s eyes are empty and, oh, what he wouldn’t give to see those eyes, familiar and warm and looking at him again, even if it’s for the last time. He hasn’t much left to give, truth be told. Only his hope, and his life, and he feels them both competing for which is going to reach the end of the line.

“Geralt,” he whispers, again, and that spare root of hope he had starts to rot. “Geralt, please, don’t...” Are those tears? His eyes are burning. “Wake up, love, it’s me.”

What hope? He knows there is not. He knows, because it’s empty, forever empty, and the blade stings deeper and he pleads, Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as if it means anything anymore, as if it’s Geralt.

He understands. And knows, if he’s to die, he has to die the way he lived, by love, as a poet. For love, then. As a poet, and for love.

So he straightens himself, eyes steady on Geralt. And takes a step forward against the blade.

It’s numbing, the pain. Another step. He gasps, chokes on his own blood. Another step, and Geralt stares, empty, blade steady in place as though on purpose, but there’s a familiar glint somewhere in there now, a familiar fear. Jaskier is close. His feet are giving in, his breath is shortening, and it’s a pity really, such a torturous death.. He’s close. So close that he can rest on Geralt’s shoulder, and he feels the blade ripping his flesh, his insides, his everything. He coughs up blood, chokes, eyes rolling to the back of his head. And he feels the blade dripping behind him. And he feels Geralt’s breath on his skin. So he cups his face in a shaking hand, and leans in.

It’s nothing. A brush of lips, tender in all its agony. It’s nothing. The world is blurring. It’s love.

It’s nothing.

The sword slips away as he falls, leaving behind nothing but a puddle of unending blood and slowly consuming darkness and he thinks, it’s supposed to be bright, it’s supposed to hurt less now.

He thinks, he’s supposed to spare himself from Geralt’s anguished look when he comes to, and realizes.

Instead.

“Jaskier!”

He doesn’t feel the pain. Only his body, lifted from the floor, and the scorching blood and the arms, those arms that hold him so tight he wants to scream all the apologies, all the regrets of the world. He doesn’t need to. They all echo in Geralt’s eyes.

It’s sweet, the pain. It’s melodic, the plea. Jaskier, please, stay with me, you fool, you’re alright, stay with me.

He wants to laugh. He’s long gone.

The greatest act, to die for love. A fitting ending, for a poet. He wishes someone will write it, this story, their story, and maybe give it a happier ending. Maybe they will go to the coast. Maybe they’ll end up closing their eyes together, holding each other tight, and maybe there’s no blood, only bitter tears of happiness.

It’s a fairytale. It can’t be tragic.

I love you, you’ll be alright, please, please don’t leave me alone.

A forehead pressed against his and he stares at Geralt and, oh, how he misses him already, and how bright he looks in his sorrow, how beautiful behind the veil that slowly falls between them. Jaskier parts his lips, chokes. “Geralt,” he croaks and it sounds like a sob uttered by every single wilting flower in the world. “Geralt, look at me.” He raises a trembling hand on his face, his fingertips leaving smudges of blood over the falling tears.

Geralt doesn’t look. Only stares at the wound, and back at Jaskier, unfocused, horrified, numb, as though it won’t happen if he doesn’t acknowledge.

It’s darker now, and there’s a last grip holding him back, and Jaskier knows it’s the warmth of Geralt’s hug, always is. “If I die for you, will you live for me, love?” he whispers and finally, finally Geralt turns at him, eyes wide, and Jaskier smiles, something close to a wince, as though it’ll hurt less like that, letting go.

Geralt shakes his head. “If I refuse will you stay alive?”

A huff. Painful. “No. No, I don’t think so.” It’s silent like the breeze now, his voice. Jaskier wipes the rivers of tears on Geralt’s cheek and smiles again, and this time it’s genuine, probably because it’s the last one. “It’s alright, hush. You’re not alone.” Shaking, he removes silver strands away from Geralt’s eyes, and slumps, leans on his shoulder as though finally resting. “Hush now, my love. Let me look into your eyes one last time.”

He does. He looks. It’s the same eyes, same as always, warm and loving, like a tender caress.

To die for love. How tragic. But what is a poet’s love, if not the most heart-wrenching tragedy?

The bloodied hand gently falls on the floor.

There’s a streak of red light coming through the stained window, and rests on blue eyes, mistaking them for the peaceful sea after a storm in their stillness.

They stare, forever open, and somehow forever warm.

They stare, and Geralt finally stares back. And slowly, agonizingly, like a sob echoing in eternity between the pages of every promised fairytale, he screams.

[lonely-lost-soul]

First Lady of the Court

Part 3: Ghostbur (C!Wilbur Soot x reader)

A worn journal was opened, the pages faded and yellowing, a pen was placed on the parchment and the owner began to write. The sun rose over the horizon, and the wind nipped at the writer's skin, but they didn’t feel it. They didn’t feel many of life's sensations anymore, sometimes he felt warmth but it was always fleeting. He titled the page:

"Things I Remember", by Ghostbur

-The smell of bread

- L'Manberg

- The Revolution

- Bullying Tommy (he's a child)

- Sparring with Techno as a kid

- The wind

- Being president

- People cheering for me

- Fundy growing up

- Niki

- (Y/N) becoming my first lady

- The van

- Tubbo building everything

- Phil protecting me

- Sally the salmon

- (Y/N) the new love of my life

- (Y/N) adoring Fundy and treating him as her own

- Philza stabbing me to death with a sword

- A large explosion

-(Y/N) crying for me, I don’t like when she’s sad

- The taste of salt

- Air in my lungs

- Winning the election

- A ravine

- Techno's armory

- Books

- Tunnels

- Arrows

- ./..

-

- I don't know

The ghost’s head snapped up to attention, up until a few months ago he was lost in a void of darkness. Pieces were coming back together for him, he was once Wilbur Soot the president of the country he fought and died for, but now he didn’t have a purpose. He wanted to find Fundy, Tommy and Phil let them know he was here and alright, well alright for a ghost. But most importantly he wanted to find (Y/N), her cries wouldn’t leave his head. It was bad, a bad, bad memory, he’d taken to holding pieces of blue to make him feel better, but even that didn’t help his mood.

Eventually, Wilbur had found Fundy, who wasn’t that thrilled to see him, much to his disappointment. When he found Tommy he was slightly more thrilled and Phil seemed to be relieved yet mournful, Wilbur didn’t understand why, he did a good thing. However he had yet to find her, Phil seemed to be the only one who knew but he was giving him nothing. He didn’t know why was it because you didn’t want to see him? The thought made him want to cover himself in blue and beg for forgiveness. He managed to find a brand new buddy in his mourning, a blue sheep he had dubbed Friend. You would love her, (Y/N) adored sheep she would love Friend, she could be a forgiveness gift. Yet, nobody would tell the ghost where you were no matter how much he begged and pleaded, he watched as his once-prosperous country got rebuilt. Tubbo was doing a fantastic job as president, everyone seemed happy and Ghostbur accepted that fact.

A few days ago, Ghostbur sensed something was wrong. Phil was acting weirdly distant and even though Tubbo was trying to dodge his questions, he couldn’t fathom what was going on, until he saw you. You had come in wearing Alivebur’s old jacket and Ghostbur immediately froze, your hair was slightly messy and you looked tired. You were still you, same gorgeous, beautiful you, if his heart was still beating it would’ve skipped a beat. The only difference he could find was that your eyes looked deader than his own, and he was a ghost, it made him ache terribly. He wanted to float towards you, to welcome you with open arms but for some reason, he hesitated. He watched as Phil made his way over to you, he wrapped you in a hug and you hugged him back, the two made some small talk before Phil rubbed the back of his neck. Your brow furrowed and he watched you blink in surprise, you looked over Phil’s shoulder and right through Wilbur. The ghost would’ve flushed if he had blood, instead he settled on fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater before holding up a hand in a wave. You stumbled back away from him looking over at Phil who gave a little nod, Wilbur watched you shake your head and his heart sunk. His father reached out to you and your face scrunched up, you were hissing at him, clearly pissed off. Phil whacked you on the back of his head and you glared at the older man, Wilbur felt a small nudge on his arm, it was Friend. He took a shaky breath and ran his fingers through her wool, at least she had his back, when he looked up again you were marching over to him.

God, you were hot when you were mad.

“(Y/n)! Darling! It’s good to see you-”

“You son of a bitch!” You spat at him, eyes suddenly blazing with life and fire, Ghostbur felt himself falter and shrink into himself. “You think you can just come back here after what you did to us! How you treated us, how you treated me!” Ghostbur’s face fell, he didn’t remember hurting you, he refused to remember that memory, but the way he clutched his blue said enough. “I loved you! I wanted to marry you!” You choked out suddenly deflating as tears began to well in your eyes, you cursed and covered your face with your sleeve. “I cannot believe I’m crying right now.”

“You need some blue?” Wilbur said in a soft, tender voice different than you last remembered. You looked out over your sleeve finally taking in his ghostly appearance, he was wearing his big, round glasses, eyes a soft grey. Blue seemed to be pooling in the edges almost like tears, he had a shaky smile on his features, the yellow sweater he wore was one you’ve never seen before, a large red gash sat on his chest. He watched you swallow thickly and take a step back from him, “I don’t remember what happened to make you hate me so dear.” His voice quivered and he heard you whimper, “But I am so sorry...you can call me Ghostbur, I want to be different from Alivebur. Though his love for you still lives in me.”

Ghostbur watched you let out a heart-wrenching sob as you fell to your knees in front of him. You were clutching the L’manburg pin on your lapel, knuckles white, hands shaking in petrification. He floated beside you and wrapped you up in his arms, the hug wasn’t unwelcome but it was cold, Wilbur knew you’d feel no warmth from it but he hoped it’d bring you some form of comfort.

“I missed you. So much,” You admitted with a sniff, and Ghostbur couldn’t help but smile sadly.

“I missed you too,” He ran a hand through your hair and you leaned into the apparition's ghostly touch. Ghostbur glanced up at Phil who had a tense smile on his face as he nodded slightly at the ghost, it read don’t hurt her again, and Wilbur nodded. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you, you need to meet Friend!” His eyes lit up a little as he looked around for his blue sheep, “You’ll love her!”

“I’ve been living with Fundy,” You answered his question and his brows furrowed, but Fundy had told him he had no idea where you lived. “We’ve been taking care of one another, just like I promised you we would,” You responded flatly, your voice had a flat affect and Wilbur shuffled uncomfortably in the air.

Where was your spark? Your lust for life and the good things? Was this his fault?

No. No, it couldn’t have been, he refused to accept that outcome.

Alivebur loved you just as much as Ghostbur did, he felt that love so deep in his being it was almost suffocating. So, he’d never hurt you, you don’t hurt the people you love and that’s a fact. So why were you so sad?

“That’s weird. Fundy said he couldn’t find you!” Ghostbur huffed, shaking his head at his son's actions, “My silly, little champion.”

“Ghostbur don’t call him that, he doesn’t like it.” You stated gruffly crossing your arms and his frown only deepened,

“What do you mean he doesn’t like it? Of course, he likes it, he loves it!”

“No Wil he doesn’t. Stop it.” You hissed and he flinched, your face fell a little and you turned away from him. You shoved your hands in the pockets of the jacket, “I need a smoke.” You muttered and his jaw dropped,

“That’s bad for you! You know that!”

“So what? It makes me fucking feel better. You’re not my Wilbur. Stop pretending you give a shit about me.”

“I do care! I love you!” He argued desperately, “I know I’m not him. I can never be him but that doesn’t mean I love you any less. His love transferred to me, please...give me a chance.” You looked at him up and down and he’s never felt more terrified in his entire existence, he needed your hope, he could fix you.

“You don’t understand how much he hurt me.” You whispered completely vulnerable, “he went crazy, blew up a nation, and left me alone.”

He. Meaning Alivebur, Ghostbur was glad he was distinguishing the difference between the both of them. He didn’t remember doing that to you, after all, Ghostbur didn’t do that to you.

“I’ll never leave you alone. I can promise you that, with my whole heart I swear it.” He took your hands within his own, he knew you could barely feel his touch. You closed your eyes for a minute before reopening them,

“I’ll give you one chance. One. So help me god, if you ruin that chance I will never speak to you again. That’s a promise.”

Ghostbur swallowed thickly, nerves prickling at his entire being, “I won’t waste that chance, my dear.” You gave a stern nod and rubbed the back of your neck with a tired sigh,

“So...Friend?”

Ghostbur’s entire demeanor changed as he introduced you to the blue sheep that had taken a rather strong liking to him. The sheep nuzzled at your chest sniffing at your clothing choice, you hesitated a little before running your fingers through her wool.

“She’s very soft.”

“I know right!” he chimed wrapping his arms tight around his sheepy buddy, he buried his face in her wool. Ghostbur saw a weary smile spread across your face which made him smile back at you in return.

Maybe this could still work out for the both of you.

Months went by and you had set up residence outside of New L’manburg, everyone understood why you couldn’t make a permanent home out of the new country after everything that occurred there. In between watching over an exiled Tommy, Ghostbur would come by and visit you, even though you hated to admit it the ghost of your former lover had won you over. He was just so innocent so unlike the man who blew up his own country, so much like the goofball you had originally fallen in love with, you were enraptured. When New L’manburg blew up you weren’t surprised, there was a dull ache in your heart when you heard the news from a sobbing Ghostbur but you couldn’t feel sympathy. What you did feel sympathy about though was Phil’s uncaring attitude towards Friend, it was the first time you heard Ghostbur get legitimately angry.

It scared you more than you wanted to admit.

Even so, you confronted your former lover; he didn’t like sadness and tried to push the feeling away. You tried to comfort him the best way you could but he insisted he was fine opting to take his blue and forget his sadness. That was another thing, his quote on quote blue, it never did sit right with you. Hurt, sadness, and pain are hard emotions to face but they create character and depth and ultimately shouldn’t just be forgotten so easily, after all, how will you ever learn from your mistakes if you don’t experience sadness. Ghostbur didn’t want to hear your reasoning and still took towards using the blue, you eventually gave up trying to convince him otherwise.

You were sitting outside on your porch, rocking on your porch swing a cup of cocoa in your hand. Ghostbur was sitting beside you, head on your shoulder humming a soft tune to himself,

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Ghostbur had asked so innocently it made your heart leap into your throat. Thoughts of Wilbur and his betrayal flashed across your mind, you wanted to scream and say no. That you’ll never let someone like that hurt you again, you were too strong, you opened your mouth but the hope in Ghostbur’s eyes made you close your mouth. This wasn’t the Wilbur you knew, this was Ghostbur, sure he was the ghost of Wilbur but they were so different. Ghostbur made you happy, he made you remember what it was like to be a good person, made you remember what it was like when you first met Wilbur. He made you smile and laugh, and he genuinely adored and cared for your happiness. You found yourself uttering a soft okay before your brain could comprehend your decision, the smile that lit up across Ghostbur’s face was illuminating. He floated over to you and cupped your cheeks, his pale hands were freezing, but it felt good against your scalding hot cheeks. Ghostbur’s eyes softened as he stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a soft kiss, the kiss was cold but not unpleasant. You felt him melt against you, and press desperately on to your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle you felt him pull away. He had the cutest pout on his pale lips,

“Don’t giggle at my kisses!” Ghostbur sounded so offended, you only laughed harder. “Stopppppppp,” he whined leaning against you dramatically.

“I’m sorry Ghostbur.” You covered your mouth with your hand, “You’re just too cute.”

You watched him freeze at your genuine compliment, a smile broke across his features,

“No, you’re cute!” Ghostbur cooed floating around you and wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You leaned into his touch with bright red cheeks,

“You’re a goofball,” You whispered softly, he nuzzled his face into your hair,

“I love you.” You froze in his arms and tensed up, reality crashing back onto all at once. Did you really kiss your dead lover's ghost? The lover who was a fucking asshole to you and blew up an entire country.

Not a girl boss moment.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Ghostbur was quick to add, “I know how hard this is for you. There’s no pressure with me my dear, I just want you to know how I feel.” He pressed the sweetest of kisses to the side of your head. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes, not out of sadness, out of shock. You couldn’t believe Ghostbur was once Wilbur, the same man you yelled and screamed at you before his death, Ghostbur was wonderful. Ghostbur was kind and sweet, gentle and tender, one day you’d be ready to say you love him, just not yet, not when everything is so fresh.

“Thank you Ghostbur. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Anything for you my dear.”

Months turned into years and you had officially fallen in love with your clingy ghost and his blue sheep. You knew he loved you to absolute bits, there were many occasions where Phil and Technoblade came up to you and begged you to get Ghostbur to stop gushing about you. You only turned red and smiled fondly, they scoffed but ruffled your hair, overall both were happy to see you smiling again. You hadn’t kept up with the dramas of the SMP, all your information was from Ghostbur, which happened to be not all that reliable.

You loved him but he was so naive, Tommy and Tubbo had defeated Dream, taken two of his cannon lives, and locked him in Sam’s prison. When Ghostbur told you a smile overtook your features, finally the bastard was getting what he deserved.

Isolation.

Tommy was growing closer with Ghostbur again too, which you couldn’t help but be happy about, he too deserved to heal from the trauma Wilbur had inflicted. You trusted Tommy, even when everyone else didn’t you tried to have his back and showed you he cared in his own weird way. Which mostly meant not stealing your shit, which you weren’t complaining about, today, however, he seemed tense. You both were walking the Prime Path on your way back to your abode, Tommy was loud and rambling, but they were different from his usual ramblings.

“Tommy?”

“What is it, women? I’m in the middle of my heroic story!”

“Are you alright?” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and saw him go rigid. He cleared his throat shaking away his nerves,

“Fuck you talking about? Of course, I’m okay bitch. Don’t interrupt me again!” He scoffed nose high in the air, you narrowed your eyes and he shrunk under your gaze. “I just…” He rubbed the back of his neck, you thought about his resurrection and assumed it had something to do with that, your gaze drifted to the white streaks littering his hair.

“Hey...it’s okay. Just know I’m here for you,” You assured with a smile. You reached up to squeeze his shoulder, he looked shocked at the affectionate gesture,

“Obviously I know that! Don’t assume things bitch!” Tommy shouted shaking off your hand, you shook your head with a smile and let Tommy continue his story. If the young boy wanted to tell you, he would on his own terms. That night Ghostbur had come home absolutely shaking with excitement,

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo said we’re going on an adventure tonight!” Ghostbur was absolutely glowing, you couldn’t help but smile faintly at his antics.

“Don’t have too much fun.” You chastised teasingly, ghostbur giggled in delight as you pressed a kiss to his cold skin. “Stay safe, don’t let them bully you too much.”

“They don’t bully me,” he huffed but he leaned in for another kiss. Ghostbur had discovered he loved your kisses, even though they were probably cold to you all he felt was warmth. If he was a hybrid like his son his tail would be wagging, and if he was alive he’d be bright red. “I love you (y/n), of course, I’ll stay safe. I promised you I’d never leave you remember?”

You flushed and nodded, “I remember. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Until then my dear!” He took your hand within his own and kissed the tops of your knuckles. You flushed pink and he sent you a cheeky grin,

“Get out of here loverboy! Don’t keep the children waiting!” You shouted as he floated out the door with a giant wave,

“I’ll be sending you kisses!”

“Ghostbur oh my god, go already!” You giggled with a fond roll of your eyes, he laughed loudly and floated out the door.

You should’ve told him you loved him. It’s okay, there would always be tomorrow.

You were getting ready for bed when Tubbo called you over the walkie-talkie, he was frantically apologizing and pleading for you to come to the crater that was L’manburg. Tommy then stole the walkie talking and started shouting about Ghostbur and your heart sink into your chest. He didn’t make a whole lot of sense but you put on a coat over your pajamas and ran in the direction of the once-prosperous nation. When you got there Tubbo and Tommy were a mess, Ranboo was trying to calm them down and Friend looked uncomfortable.

Where was Ghostbur?

You opened your mouth to call out to the boys when a pair of arms snuck around your waist. They were warm and real, pale hands caressed your abdomen,

“Hi, darling. Did you miss me?” Warm lips handed on your neck, “I missed you.”

Wilbur was back.

~~~ @blossom-702 @mayempress @thatguythatsshy

[thatgoblin]

RE Crack Drabble 42 C

A/N: Because I can and because I need more Carlos smut in my life, here you go.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex [afab and amab receiving and giving], over stimulation, oral fixation.

Squirming in the cuffs, you grunted and glared at Carlos. "This isn't fair!" You cried.

"You brought a bear into the house," he laughed. "I don't think fair applies here."

"His name is Gary and he's a nice bear!" You snapped, trying to keep Carlos at bay with one of your feet. Not that it would work, but you were trying. Carlos just snickered as he grabbed your ankles and pushed them up towards your head. "Excuse me! Now is not the time for sex! I have a bear to save!"

"Darling, sweetie, light of my life, that bear is not going to get hurt by fellow bear Chris Redfield," he said, leaning in to kiss your pouting lips. "If anything it'll happily be lured out of the house and back into the woods with a full belly."

"Why can't I have things?" You groaned as Carlos settled onto his elbows above you, your legs hitched over his shoulders.

"Well, maybe a large predator is not an ideal pet. Maybe we get dog or a hedgehog instead?" Carlos suggested, humming as he kissed over your jaw and neck.

"What the hell is a hedgehog?" You asked with a frown. "Not the point. I found Gary though. He's a sweet boy, I think he's a boy at least, and he likes sandwich meat and crackers and belly rubs and hugs."

"Babe, you just described Nikolai. I don't think you need a bear," Carlos snickered.

"Nikolai is not a sweet boy. That man is menace to genitals everywhere," you snorted.

"You're not wrong, but you still can't have a bear. Pretty sure it's illegal and we don't need anyone coming here to find out we have illegal animals. Chris will have a stroke," he said, pulling back as he worked your shorts and underwear down your hips and legs to toss them to the side. The cool air hit your sex, making you squirm a bit in your vulnerable position. "Now, I'm supposed to be distracting you," he said, pulling your shirt and bra up off your chest. Leaving the shirt just over your nose and eyes, using your bra to pin it in place.

"Carlos," you whined, unable to see what he was doing as he moved back to let you squirm under his gaze. His weathered hands pushed on your soft, inner thighs to spread them as he leaned down to press hot kisses to your hips. Unable to see and only feel, you were getting wet from just how near his mouth was to that sensitive mound. His humming only made you throb as you started to wriggle against him.

Of all your partners, Carlos was the only one to make you so wet and hot so quickly. You weren't sure why, but there was just something about him that made you melt.

He nipped at the soft skin of your thighs before finally, FINALLY using that magic tongue of his to lick a broad stroke up your slit to that tender spot that had you gasping.

"Sir, please," you whimpered, shaking as he slowly pushed his tongue between your lower lips to slide up again.

"So it's Sir now, huh? What happened to you arguing with me and calling me Carlos?" He asked, pulling away as you cried out. His hands pinned your hips, keeping you still despite your want to thrash in protest.

"I'm sorry Sir," you said, licking your lips. "I'm sorry I argued with you."

"Good," he said, moving back down to continue giving you slow licks that only served to get you wet further, your mound swelling at the attention. You bit your lip as he pushed his tongue further into you, pulling your folds apart with the tips of his fingers to get at the more delicate parts of you.

"Sir," you grunted, struggling to keep yourself from bucking up. "Please, Sir. I-I'm close."

"I want you to come on my face like a good doll," he groaned against you. Gasping, you let out soft twittering noises as he began to suck on your clit, massaging it with the tip of his tongue. It was when he press two, thick fingers into you that you lost it. Letting out a guttural groan, you shook as you came hard on his face and finger.

"Thank you, Sir. Thank you, Sir," you whined as he kept moving. Carlos didn't let up, forcing another orgasm from you as he curled his fingers to rub against that sweet spot he always knew to hit. Your toes curled as you tried to shut your legs, tears pricking your eyes as he still kept going. His strong arms kept you open for him, coaxing another orgasm and then another. Sobbing, you were blubbering nonsense as you tried to plead for respite from that wicked tongue of his.

One more orgasm had you shaking harder than the first one as he lifted his face to show how covered in your slick he was. Not that you could see, but you could taste when he crawled up your body to kiss you hard, shoving his tongue into your mouth. Moaning softly, you relaxed at the pause your overworked sex was given. You were more than happy to make out with Carlos, letting him rut against your belly with his hard cock.

Part of you hoped he would ask to do anal or for you to suck him off just so you didn't go numb.

"You're so gorgeous when you're wrecked," he groaned between kisses. "It's not often I get to do this to you and have you all to myself. I should really take more time in the afternoons like this with you. I'm sure you would agree."

"Yes Sir," you moaned as he shifted his weight to his hands and feet before adjusting his body to straddle your chest. Groaning in anticipation, you open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out for him.

"I knew you would remember what to do," he said with a chuckle. You could feel him lean forward to tap his heavy cock against your tongue, groaning as he pushed the head past your lips. Wrapping them around him, you moaned as he moved forward, swirling your tongue around him as he let his hips drive his prick further into your mouth. When the soft head hit the back of your throat, you gagged, but Carlos kept going. He was long and thick and you always felt like you would choke to death on him, but what a fucking way to go.

"My best doll, always willing to suck me off," he grunted as he pressed till your nose was buried in his curls. Slowly, he pulled back, letting you breathe before repeating. Being unable to see his face, to witness the pure pleasure you were giving him was frustrating, but you knew his exact expression. It was your favorite one.

His hair hanging in his heavy lidded eyes with his face flushed and his lips either partially open or biting his bottom lip. Any time he looked at you and bit his lip, you were done for.

His rhythm didn't stay slow and steady, in fact he began to speed up after just a few thrusts till he was practically throat fucking you.

"Oh fuck," he moaned as he gripped your hair tightly. "Best mouth I've ever had." The praise was wonderful, going to your head even as you were being used. Easing off of you, he let you gasp for air as his cock bobbed and hit your chin. "You look so good like this. I love seeing you so thoroughly fucked."

"Thank you, Sir," you moaned as he shifted down your body. Pulling the shirt off your face, he unlocked the cuffs from your wrists as well, allowing you to push yourself onto his lap.

"Come on baby," he groaned before your lips collided in a hungry kiss. Breaking away, he moved you to your elbows and knees. Cock in hand, he ran it over your still slick entrance a few times then began to push into you.

Carlos was big and knew it, letting you stretch slowly as he entered you. Whimpering softly, you twitched around his girth as he took his time in bottoming out. Once he had, you couldn't help how your eyes crossed in pleasure at feeling so full. Biting your lip, you whined as he wrapped his hand around your throat as he began to thrust. Each one stole your breath as he slammed into you. It took everything not to scream as he sped up.

Sex with Carlos was always intense. It had been since the beginning and you loved it. Grunting, he held onto your throat with a firm grip and an even harder one on your hip as he began to pound into you.

Sobbing, tears running down your face, you could only take what he was giving you.

"So pretty when your so drunk on my cock," he growled as he kept his harsh pace up. Your next orgasm was getting close, but you couldn't get the words out as Carlos gave you no mercy. Pulling you up to your knees, he kept the hand on your throat, but wrapped his other arm around your wait to keep you up. It felt so much deeper and you swore you were seeing stars as you clung to him. His fingers went to your clit and began to rub it as he turned your head for a messy kiss, forcing you to look over your shoulder at him.

He swallowed your scream as you came hard around him, shaking and nearly blacking out out. Carlos was close behind you, growling into the kisses as he slammed into you with stuttering thrusts before painting your insides with his cum. Quivering and whimpering, you could only kiss him back as your body refused to do anything else. You were jelly in Carlos' arms and he knew it.

Carefully, he pulled out of you so that you could lay down next to him. You pressed close to him as you felt him already begin to leak from your sore mound, but you didn't care. Your brain was fucked silly, just like how he wanted.

"Let's get some rest," he said softly, pulling the blankets over your quickly cooling bodies in the air conditioned room. All you could do was hum as you laid your head on his chest to listen to his rapid heart beat slow down.

With heavy eyes, you mumbled an 'I love you,' earning a kiss to the head and a returned 'I love you, too.'

Sleep pulled at you, but a sound beyond the closed door brought you out of your exhaustion.

"What the hell? How does the bear know to knock on the door!?" Chris cried.

Master List of Drabbles

Tag List: @abysswhiskey11 @interviewedchicken @lonely-af-fangirl @girl-obsessed-with-things @mmmm----15 @depressedthebluefox @whimsywispsblog @singingsiren98 @parkerschurros @chrissyreid

[luminousscammer]

all for myself

Midari Ikishima x fem!reader

note: i was doing another thing but this idea screamed at me to be written, i just know this b would get off with this. also this is self-indulgent lmao.

I'm aware that the fandom is kinda dead here but i wanted to post this anyway.

Warnings: smut duh, yandere-ish, slight dumbification and overstimulation, gunplay, i can't believe I'm saying this but POSSIBLY snuff? lmao

Wc: 1.3k

tags: @interstellarpumpkin

The first time you met Midari it was kind of… strange. She had already seen you before, gambling against other students who you almost always beat, you also had your losses but not enough to have a debt. From that moment on she couldn't take her eyes off you.

She would follow you to your classes and she even sent members of the beautification group to you, just to make sure you’re staying safe. You "accidentally" bumped into her in the hallway at school, she took that opportunity to say all kinds of compliments, she said that she always watched you from afar, she knew your schedules, even your favorite food, where you spent time when you wanted to clear your mind, etc.

For other people that would have been a red flag, that they should run from there as soon as possible!

But you didn't think that, on the contrary, you thought it was considerate and thoughtful on her part. She was completely stunned when she heard your response, it was the first time someone accepted her. From that moment on, you two became inseparable, her carefree and impulsive nature when gambling fascinated you, although, there were moments that made you worry, for example that time she played with Yumeko. When you saw the state in which she left her, you felt… jealous? But why?! If you two were only friends!!

The truth is that you developed a crush on her, everyone said that she was a freak, weird and obsessive, but that's why you liked her. You wanted to make her feel what Yumeko did, you wanted to hear her pathetically cry your name.

“If I manage to break you, you will be my girlfriend,” That took Midari by surprise, but didn't stop her from nodding like an overexcited puppy in less than a second.

XXXX

With hands tied at the wooden headboard and her legs around your hips, she whimpers as you ram into her, not even waiting for her to adjust to the strap. Bottoming out, she throws her head back and cries out your name, the sound of her whines drowning out your own moans. She can feel her heart rate pick up as you pull out almost all the way before sinking back into her cunt in one fluid thrust. Sobbing and wrapping her legs around your waist tightly, she raises her hips to meet each of your thrusts.

But this wasn't enough for you, coming to a halt, you reached out to open the drawer of the bedside table, Midari was about to yell at you to continue but as soon as she saw what you took out she swallowed her words.

“Let's make this more interesting, shall we?” The smile on your face was as twisted as any of the girls knowing that they had the upper hand, “Where were we?” Putting a single bullet in the revolver barrel, you gave it a spin and with a flick of your wrist you put it in its place.

Midari was speechless, from the moment she saw the gun, her mind and breath quickened, but this wasn't a bad thing, she couldn't wait for what was going to happen, thinking of all the possibilities her pussy clenched around your cock. Slamming back into her, you started a brutal pace, seeing her tits bounce up and down, her flushed face and teary eyes, and oh, don't get me even started on the sounds she makes, it was fucking music to your ears, so desperate and sinful.

With the hand that is holding the gun, you put it right above her temple, the coldness of the canon made her let out a pathetic whine. The sound of you pulling the hammer back, makes her keen into you, noticing her reaction makes you let out ragged breaths. At first you were wondering if this was a good idea, what if I accidentally killed her? ... It wasn't normal, but the way she squirmed under you, and the faces she makes, made you forget everything. Plus, you would be lying if you said that you didn't want to pull the trigger to see what the result was.

In an impulsive attack, you pulled the trigger.

Clank.

The sound rumbling in the dorm.

Her face screw shut, tears littering her lashes. “Y/N! Yes! Do it again! Fuck, do it again!” she cries out.

And you did, you did it nine times more, but you lost the count in that moment.

“Look at you, getting off to having a loaded gun to your head while being fucked dumb. You can't even talk properly anymore. Are you having a hard time, baby? Do you wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes! Please yes! I’m so close.” She moans like a slut for you, her words hitting something deep and fucking feral in the pit of your stomach. She's babbling nonsense as you hit her cervix over and over again, her walls clench and unclench around you, pulling the trigger one more time, with nothing but the clank sound coming out again, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and combined with a few more thrusts against her spot she cums. Her nails bite into the heel of her palms, body going taught as her cunt flutters against your cock.

Your hips stutter hard as you chase your own high. Her pussy gushes warm around you, muscles spasming rhythmically despite the stretch of you filling her to her limits. She chokes out your name with a final gasp. You pull out before the oversensitivity can become too much, you crawl down her body. She's too tired to check what you're doing and assumes that you're just trying to get off of the bed to grab a rag.

You don't make a move to leave her side, though, and when the rough texture of your tongue draws a long line down her pussy, her eyes go wide. You repeat the motion once more before pushing your tongue into her and lick her cum out of her until she's all clean. Taking off the strap and straddling her stomach, you untie her hands with care, the skin of her wrists was red. When you were about to apologise, you didn't expect that she still had enough strength to throw herself into your arms with your back hitting the bed to hug you really tight.

Wrapping one of your arms around her naked waist, you let out a content sigh. “You know what this means right?” looking at you with an almost confused face, her cheeks suddenly tinted a vermilion color and showed you a smile that it wasn't like her. It was sweet, her eyes full of adoration, you could swear that if you stared a little longer you'd see hearts in her eyes. She lets out a little laugh and attacks you, peppering your face with kisses, it makes you feel full, wanted. You laugh at the ticklish sensation, happy that your work has paid off.

“I want you to myself,” placing both of her hands on your cheeks, she confessed. “I like you, I love you. I want to do everything with you, I never want to leave your side, if I ever died because of you I wouldn't even care, because dying by your side would be such a heavenly way to die.”

Now it was your turn to look at her, the tenderness in your eyes was the enough acceptance and confirmation that she needed. Without a single word, she places her head in your chest and closes her eyes, your arms cradling her like a baby. In that position, you both fall asleep with the security that both will be there for each other in the morning.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 8 "Apartment Sweet Apartment"

CW: hospital setting, medical whump, injury description/mention, PTSD themes, past noncon/abuse mentions, tics/tourettes, death mention, strangling, panic attack, aftermath of noncon, August mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias was incredibly vigilant and on edge the next twenty or so minutes, flinching and ducking away from doctors at every motion towards him, scrambling away from any instrument they shoved at him, afraid of any pain they inflict. Even after they repeatedly assured him that they weren't going to hurt him, they were only there to help, he couldn't help but cower away from them. It was understandable, and they were patient with him, considering the very last thing he remembered was being strangled to death by someone who had already hurt him more than should be possible. So of course he was afraid, he had every right to be, that's what they kept telling him. And even though he mostly believed it when they said he was safe now and he was thankful he was away from August, he couldn't help but wish for his small, comforting touches, or his reassurance that he was doing ok, or a slap across the face for speaking out of turn. What was wrong with him? He was finally away from the nightmare, he had literally died to get out of it, and he was disgusted in himself for even halfway wanting August to be there.

"Alright Elias, I'm just gonna get a quick look at your throat, ok?" One of the nurses asked, as she walked in. She didn't give him a second to prepare, her gloved hands already reaching for his neck. He shrunk away from her, even with the warning.

"Oh, sorry," he whispered, leaning back towards her.

"That's ok." Her fingers danced gently against his skin, and even though she was soft, his skin was tender enough for it to hurt. He let out a soft whine as she touched one particularly sensitive spot, trying with everything in him to not pull away from her. It was difficult, every bone in his body was screaming for the pain to be over, he couldn't stand another second of the exhausting aches and stings and burns. He felt like he might pass out if he had to feel another second of it. "How badly does it hurt, scale of one to ten?"

Before Elias could answer, there was an outcry at the door, and he looked up to see Tyson standing there, watching him with a look of mixed horror and relief. "Oh, Eli, you're ok!"

The nurse pulled away from him, excusing herself from the room with a promise to come check on him later. Elias looked down at his hands, choking on his tears already. Tyson approached him rather quickly, frowning when he flinched back.

"Sorry, sorry," he rushed, his voice softer now, "I'm just... God, I'm so glad you're alright." Every word he said was absolutely dripping in relief, but Elias felt like if he were to look up at him he would be able to tell that he was faking it.

"Yeah? Are you?" Elias shot back, keeping his head ducked. He knew, if this were August, he would be hit as soon as his tone was even the slightest bit off, and he relaxed a bit when he realized Tyson wasn't going to hit him.

"Of course I am, baby," Tyson whispered, rubbing his thumb against Elias's arm, "I was so fucking worried."

"Yeah, if Allen's nick name is 'worried' then you definitely were fucking worried."

Tyson was silent for a second, pulling his hand away. "What are you talking about?"

Elias huffed, shaking his head. He was in so much pain, he was so incredibly tired, everything was still in ruins even though he was away from August. He wished they didn't save him, that way he could have just escaped all of this new turmoil. "I don't want to see you. Please get out."

"What? No, Elias please. Please don't shut me out, let me be here for you." Tyson grabbed his hand, frowning when Elias gasped in pain and pulled away. He didn't notice the horrible bruising and swelling, and he only took it to heart when Elias jumped away from his touch. "Elias why are you upset with me?"

Elias was really crying now, still refusing to look up at Tyson. He wanted so badly to be held, to find some sort of comfort in Tyson's arms, but he couldn't stop thinking about the pictures of him with Allen and all the harsh things August said about him. "I know you got rid of me to be with Allen. I saw the pictures."

"I didn't get rid of you, how could you say that? What pictures?"

Elias sobbed, shaking his head. His throat tightened at the pain the movement caused, and he wrinkled his nose as tears slipped down his cheeks. "Please get out. Please."

"Elias I swear I didn't do anything with Allen. Look at me." Elias shook his head again, so Tyson tried to make his tone softer, despite the panicked desperation he was feeling. "Eli please look at me."

Tyson looked so tired. His eyes were darkened by sleeplessness and his clothes were a mess and he was staring at Elias with a sad hope to his gaze, a hope that Elias had lost some time ago. He cried harder, which only hurt his throat and chest more. "I was so scared." He heard himself whimper. "I was so scared and you weren't going to save me and I just wanted to die, Tyson. I want it to stop."

"I know, love," Tyson hushed, placing his hand against Elias's cheek and swiping his tears, overjoyed when he let him, "I'm so sorry I couldn't help you." Elias frowned when he saw that Tyson was also crying.

"He told me you gave me up so Allen would be safe. He showed me pictures of you hugging him." He sniffled a little, groaning when he ticced. Tyson was quick to grab onto his wrist softly, stroking his skin gently to calm him down. This was the comfort Elias missed so badly, Tyson knew how to calm him down in almost unnoticeable ways instead of just allowing him to flail about like August did.

"That's not true. Elias, I didn't spend a single waking minute doing anything but worry for you and try to help find you." He leaned closer as he spoke, trying to get Elias to open up to him, to drop some of the tension from his shoulders and turn toward him fully. "Nothing happened. August lied to you."

Elias looked him over, at the way his hand fit loosely around his wrist, the tears cutting down his dark cheeks. Everything about him was begging for Elias to trust him, his face and posture screaming "You have to believe me, you have to."

"You promise?" He finally whispered. His voice was so soft and close to the edge of cracking that Tyson sighed heavily at the absolute brokenness of the question.

"I promise baby. I swear." He was flooded with relief as Elias leaned toward him, resting his head against Tyson's shoulder. He stayed still, not wanting to move and scare him away, but he was insanely pleased at the touch. Elias was ok, he was alive, and he was touching him.

When Elias was allowed to leave the hospital, he ended up back at Tyson's place. It was clean, with some Christmas lights strung up despite it hardly being fall, and bouquets of flowers scattered around. Elias sat on the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"It looks pretty in here," he remarked, his voice quiet and nervous. Tyson offered up a friendly smile as he set his things down before moving to sit next to Elias.

"All these flowers are for you. People kept dropping them off." He took Elias's hand in his own, as if he was afraid that if he wasn't touching him he would have a meltdown.

Elias nodded, chewing on his lip nervously. He stared hard at the lights because he could feel Tyson's eyes on him and he felt like if he looked back at him he would see contempt. Or maybe disappointment. He wasn't Allen, he had unfortunately survived and now he was a burden to him again. He wasn't wanted here, he could almost feel it, in the way that Tyson grudgingly sat by his side and held his hand, like he was putting on a show of his affection.

"You alright love? You're so quiet." Tyson's voice was honeyed, coated with a layer of artificial sugar. It reminded Elias of August, when he would use that sickly sweet tone as he said something horrible. It almost sounded like a compliment when he called him an idiot, like a poem when he told him no one but August cared about him, he sounded genuinely loving when he told Elias he looked better bruised and bloody than when he was ok.

"I need to use the bathroom," Elias whispered, pulling his hands away from him as he staggered to his feet. He bit back a whine at the pain that shot through every atom of his body, his head fuzzy from standing up. His vision was darkening and his head was spinning again, it caused an almost familiar anxiety to grab at him. He was being strangled, he was going to die, he could see August's face as his vision faded to black, he was dead. Elias was dead.

He felt arms around him as he swayed, and he couldn't help but clutch at Tyson's clothes as he gasped in panicked breaths. He didn't realize he'd started sobbing hard until Tyson was trying to calm him down. "Hey, hey," he hummed, rubbing his back, "you're ok, love. It's ok."

"I don't want to die!" Elias cried, and he really meant it, even though he didn't earlier, even though earlier he was peacefully accepting the warm blanket of death. "I'm so scared, Tyson! I don't want to die anymore!"

Tyson pulled him back onto the couch and sat him down, holding him close against his chest. "You're safe, Elias. I've got you, you're gonna be alright. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He stroked Elias's back gently, then his hair, then pulled away to look at his tear stained face. "It's over now, baby. No one's going to hurt you anymore." He was whispering now, gentle and quiet with his fragile Elias.

Elias sniffled, searching Tyson's face for something. When he seemed to find it, he closed his eyes and nestled his head against his shoulder to find comfort. It felt so good to be held so gently, without the looming threat of pain or fear. "Death is so scary, Ty. It's so dark and it feels like...like the world just swallows you whole. It's so scary."

Tyson was quiet now, merely holding Elias and allowing him to speak. "I was so angry that the last thing I was gonna see was his stupid fucking face and I tried to look out the window but I...I..."

"Elias, listen to me," he ran his hands over Elias's small frame, pleased to feel his breathing had slowed a little. "No one's gonna hurt you anymore. I'm here, I'm not gonna let anyone touch you." He sighed, and Elias sat up to look up at him, sniffling softly. Tyson reached up to wipe his tears, moving slowly so he wouldn't freak him out all over again. "I hate to see you so scared and hurt. I just wanna hide you away and make you all better."

"God, I missed you. I didn't realize how much I missed you cause I thought you hated me." Elias timidly reached up to take Tyson's face in his hand gently, sighing at the forgotten familiarity. "Oh, Tyson. You're so perfect. How could I forget..." He trailed off as Tyson's hands dropped comfortably to his waist. This was familiar too, but in a sicker, more upsetting way. This touch was less innocent, it had hidden motives that Elias knew all too well by now. He didn't want that pain anymore, he didn't want to be praised and fawned over when it was only going to hurt in the end anyway. It didn't feel good when he was sober, at least when he was high he couldn't feel the pain. But now he was sober, and in a gruesome amount of pain, and Tyson was touching him in that way that meant he was going to take what he wanted any second and Elias knew he wasn't supposed to argue or it would be worse but he didn't know if he could stomach any more pain-

"What is it?" Tyson asked him, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. Elias was surprised to feel he had started trembling, and when he did realize, he ticced. "Hey, you're ok. What are you thinking about?"

"I...I really wanted my first time to be with you," he choked out, looking away from Tyson. He was ashamed, he felt used up and disgusting and discarded, why would Tyson want him now? "Or at least someone who cares about me. I mean really cares about me, not a liar like August."

Tyson frowned at him, realizing what he was trying to tell him, that August took his virginity. He must've not known about the couple videos they were sent, the gut wrenching ones fill with sobbing and pleading and typically a fair amount of blood. Tyson's heart broke for him, he hated that August had to be the introduction to all of it, that his first experience with sex was tainted by violence and deceit and pain, not love or lust or understanding. The more he thought back to those videos, the more it shattered him, ate him alive. Elias was an innocent and clueless little lamb and August was a relentless, bloodthirsty wolf. It was nothing short of a slaughter, every video. He wondered if, almost hoped, Elias was treated differently outside of them. For his sake, he wished that August had at least shown him an inkling of softness every now and then.

"I'm so sorry he ruined that for you, Eli." It was all he could manage to say, and it hardly came out in one piece over the thick hatred and disgust for August he felt. He pulled him back to his chest, placing soft kisses into his hair. "Maybe one day, when you're all healed, I'll show you how it's supposed to be."

Elias hummed softly, his fingers tugging at the buttons on Tyson's shirt mindlessly. "Yeah, I'd like that I think."

"Ok," Tyson sighed pointedly, "what do you wanna do? Are you hungry?"

"Uh... Can you just hold me for a bit longer please?" Elias whispered. Tyson nodded, his grip tightening.

[sickfic-with-kiko]

hey i love your writing and i was wondering if i could get a flu-y oikawa who is super nauseous but can’t get anything up. cue iwaizami coming and saving the day 🤗. can in have that with lots of burps and fluff ❤️

Take all the time you need I know you’re busy right now! Could you Maybe write something with a sick oikawa? And he hides it from iwa? But then just feels so awful and ends up going to iwa? I’ve never asked something before so I’m not sure How this works? hope this is ok? (｡•́︿•̀｡) I LOVE SICKFIC could you do an iwaizumi one? I don’t care if he’s throwing up or the reader is, or Oikawa is, I really don’t care as long as he is involved haha please I can and will die for any and every oikawa sickfic. all i ask is for emeto and a comforting Iwaizumi :,)

Everything is burning. And for once, Oikawa isn’t exaggerating. He feels like the world is actually on fire, but no. The only thing doing that is his own body, which is arguably the same thing. 

He’d finished his report the day before, thank goodness. But that relief does little to help the pain in his… everything. It all feels awful, from his head to his stomach. He hopes he won’t have to throw up. 

“I’m going to finish my assignment soon. I’ll be free in a few hours.” 

Iwaizumi had said to him, and retreated back into their room to focus on his work. And Oikawa had smiled and waved, ignoring the strange ache in his stomach. 

Ten minutes after, Oikawa’s head had started feeling warm. And when another ten minutes had passed, he was certain he had a fever. There was nothing he could do except curl up and wait for it to pass. 

After an hour, Oikawa is certain the sickness isn’t going to pass. It’s worsening, for certain. He can feel the queasiness in his stomach pushing and pulling, his breathing hot against his lips. 

He wants to go to Iwaizumi, and cling to him for comfort. But he’s busy with his college assignment, and had respected Oikawa’s space when he was cramming words into his report. Oikawa can’t disturb him just because he’s feeling under the weather. 

Oikawa grabs a blanket and drapes it over himself, curling against it to get whatever warmth he can out of it. Sleeping on the sofa isn’t exactly comfortable, but it’s the softest surface he can lie against. 

A groan slips past his lips. Drops of sweat begin to gather on his skin, and a shiver passes through his spine. His upper stomach feels like it’s being stabbed with a blunt object. Tears begin to form in his eyes. 

The dizzy feeling in his head presses against his eyes, until it begins to hurt. Before he can do anything about it, it develops into an awful headache. It spreads into his eye sockets and down into his jaw. He squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face against the cushion. 

Oikawa wants to cry. His condition has worsened exponentially in a matter of minutes. His stomach is gurgling painfully, and his head pounds periodically, different from his usual migraines. He can barely move without his head swimming. 

He attempts to get down from the sofa, and the moment his feet touch the ground, something shifts in his stomach. A dry heave escapes him, leaving his stomach cramped and sore. He crawls onto the floor, still tangled in the blanket. 

The trip to the bedroom seems too long, as he drags his feet across the ground. The door is right in front of him. The sudden overwhelming urge to cry strikes him. He’s going to disturb Iwaizumi and ruin his grades. He’s an awful boyfriend. His head hurts so much. 

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa calls out, pushing the door open slightly. He sees the back of Iwaizumi’s head, as he works away at his laptop. A stabbing pain in his stomach makes him whimper and crumple onto the ground. 

Whether it’s Oikawa’s miserable voice or the thump that gave him away, Iwaizumi stops what he’s doing. He turns around, and sees the normally sturdy Oikawa in a heap on the ground. “Oi, what’s wrong?” He tears himself out of his seat, making a run towards him. 

It’s a moment of acknowledgement for Oikawa, and he breaks. “I feel really unwell,” he sobs, as Iwaizumi puts his hand on his forehead. “My head hurts. And my stomach.” He leans into the touch, not needing to play up his symptoms like he sometimes does. He’s actually sick. 

“Shit, you’re sick. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Iwaizumi’s voice is rough, in contrast to his tender touches. Oikawa only manages another choked sob, which resonates like a steel ball banging against his head. His skin is boiling, and he still can’t stop shivering. 

“I’m sorry. Didn’t want to disturb you.” Oikawa sniffles, hugging Iwaizumi to keep him within reach. He’s on his knees, barely able to stand up. 

Iwaizumi picks up the blanket tangled around Oikawa’s limbs, and wraps him up. “I wasn’t trying to blame you, idiot.” He lifts him onto their shared bed, pulling the covers up over his warm body. “Sleep it off for a bit. You probably have a fever.” 

“I can’t,” Oikawa whines, wrapping his arm around his stomach. “I feel nauseous and my head really hurts.” 

Iwaizumi huffs, stroking Oikawa’s hair. “I’ll get some painkillers for you. Try not to puke until I come back, if you can.” 

He leaves the room, and Oikawa shifts on the bed with a groan. His stomach feels bloated, despite the lack of food put into it. An airy burp escapes him, worsening the sickly feeling in his stomach. 

“Still feeling crappy?” Iwaizumi asks, coming back into the room with a plastic basin and a glass of water. “If you feel like throwing up, you should probably take care of that before having any medicine.” 

Oikawa nods, keeping the basin within a safe distance. His stomach tugs at him, gurgling ominously. “I feel sick, but I don’t know if I can throw up. I just feel queasy.” 

A hand is on his back, rubbing firmly up and down. “You won’t feel good if you’re just sitting there nauseous all day.” Iwaizumi says, and Oikawa lets out a hiccup in response. “Try and get it up.” 

“I don’t know how to.” Oikawa holds the basin, wishing he could hurry up and get the nausea out of his stomach. His stomach is queasy and bloated enough to make him burp a couple of times, but nothing more happens. 

Iwaizumi hands him a glass of water. “Have a drink. I’ll press on your stomach, maybe that’ll help.” He suggests, and Oikawa gulps. Iwaizumi’s sheer strength would probably make all of his internal organs rise to his mouth. The mental image isn’t very pleasant. 

Oikawa gulps down the water, and immediately feels a change in his body. His stomach is trying to reject it. A wet belch passes through his lips, and Iwaizumi pats his back to try and coax more out of him. 

“It’s okay, Oikawa. It’ll be over soon.” Iwaizumi says, hand slipping down to press on his stomach. “Get it all out, okay?” He gives a few comforting rubs, before applying enough pressure to make Oikawa gag. He doesn’t throw up, but comes close to it. 

Oikawa shivers underneath the blankets, waiting for the inevitable to happen. “Fuck,” he spits into the basin, shoulders rising and falling. His stomach feels like it’s being churned. 

Iwaizumi presses inwards on Oikawa’s stomach, moving his hand upwards. That combined with a firm rub on his back seems to have done the trick. A gurgle comes from Oikawa’s throat, and a splash of vomit lands into the basin. 

Oikawa lets out a shaky breath. Another wave of nausea makes his stomach clench, and he feels the vomit rise to his throat. Iwaizumi pats his back gently as he pukes, urging him to get everything out of his system. 

“It’s all right. I’ve got you.” Iwaizumi holds him as he throws up, stroking his hair. Oikawa sniffles, gagging once and vomiting a thin stream of liquid. His mouth feels disgusting, and his stomach heaves even when there’s nothing left. 

Iwaizumi offers him a glass of water, to rinse out his mouth. Once he gets rid of the bitter aftertaste, he feels a little less awful. His stomach feels empty, and although his headache is still there, he feels marginally better. 

“I wanna sleep, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa murmurs, curling up into the pillow. He feels Iwaizumi’s hand on his head, stroking his hair. 

He closes his eyes, knowing Iwaizumi is there for him. He’s okay. He’ll feel better soon, and he’ll ask for as much attention he can squeeze out of him. 

[amazingdriverfics]

Surprise

Here’s some domestic Flip fluff to warm our hearts in such difficult times. I want to thank all of my followers once again for dedicating a part of your day to read my works. Hope you like this!

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: just a mention to sex 

Pairing: Flip Zimmerman x reader 

Summary: you get home earlier and make sure that everything is perfect for you to surprise Flip with your news.

My masterlist

Cleaning your hands - dirty with pie dough and cherry filling - you turn to the wood table in the middle of the kitchen making sure the white tablecloth was perfectly sitted of the surface, you wanted everything to be perfect. You had gotten home earlier, after closing your coffee shop two hours before you usually finished attending, with your arms full of groceries for dinner, the menu was ready in your mind: steak with mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes on the side - his favorite - and for dessert cherry pie - an homage to your pet name -. 

Now, at 7 pm, it was a matter of time before Flip got home from the station. Your present for him was hidden in the middle drawer of the kitchen stand. Excitement pumping in your veins as you finish setting the table, candles burning in the middle of it giving the environment a more intimate sensation - you had big news and the ocasion deserved the amount of effort you put into making everything perfect -. 

Hearing the sound of his truck engine dying, you prepare yourself quickly checking your figure in the hallway mirror just to make sure there wasn’t any trace of food in your face or even a hair out of place. Thankfully, your reflection showed that everything was in order.

Just in time to catch your husband coming into your home, you walk to the kitchen, a smile already adorning your features and a happy glow lighting up your eyes. 

“Cherry, I’m home” Flip’s baritone voice echoes through the house instantly meeting your ears as he takes his shoes off letting his brown leather boots by the door. “Is this steak I’m smelling?” he says already in the kitchen giving you a tender smack on your lips with his as his strong arms cage you into his hold. 

“Yes it is, hope you’re hungry” the words leave your mouth as your eyes access his features, even though you met Flip years ago, his beauty never failed to impress you, the constellation of freckles adorning his skin, his facial hair trimmed to perfection - now by you -, his dark hair framing his face, his strong nose - which he frequently pressed into your neck smelling your skin -, his dark brown eyes in which you lost yourself almost everyday and his puffy red lips that often took you to heaven. 

“Oh Cherry I’m starving, but if you keep looking at me like that I’m going to have a different meal”  your lover states, mischief already finding its way to his face, but there was no time for that now, you had planned everything and no matter how much you would like Flip to bend you over the table and fuck you until you were reduced to a mess of sobs and whimpers, you had to keep up with the schedule. 

“No, no, big guy. Today it’s an especial occasion” you say, head pointing to table forcing him to take his eyes off your figure to look at the set table shining with the fire on top of the beige candles. “What is this big occasion, Cherry?” he asks, confusion printed on him, visible from his frown. 

“You are not forgetting anything, relax” you calm him down as your hands travel in his muscular arms “It’s a surprise”, you resume your smiling as you picture his face when you told him the big news. “You know I hate surprises, Cherry. Will I have to punish you for this?” he teases you, voice becoming deeper. “You’ll like this one I promise, now head to shower” you say right before patting his butt a sign for him to get going. With one last look showing how much he suspects your attitudes, Flip turns around making his way to the bathroom as you stare to his wide back covered in a blue flannel shirt falling graciously on top of his dennin pants. 

As you hear the sound of the shower running you make the final preparations for dinner, turning off the stoven heating up the food after seeing that everything was cooked to perfection and lowering the heat of the oven since your cherry pie was almost done. Afterwards, you check one more time the middle drawer finding the white box with a yellow ribbon just where you placed it. 

By the time Flip gets to the kitchen once again, his plate and yours are filled with the tasty meal you prepared as you sit in your usual chair humming songs from your favorite vinyl. “This looks so fucking good, cherry. Almost as good as you” he says giving you a quick kiss in your cheek - a way to say thank you - before sitting in the chair in front of you. “Bon appetite” you say with a smile in your face as you start eating, watching your husband eating like a starved man, filling his mouth with steak and smashed potatoes over and over again in a pace impossible for you to keep up with. You choose to take his caveman style as a compliment chuckling between bites. 

“Are you laughing at me, cherry?” he asks in a malicious tone almost causing you to choke on your food. All you did as a reply was nod already knowing where he wanted to get to. “I guess I have two things to punish you for, isn’t that right?” he says in the same tone, but, on the contrary of what he was hoping for, you shake your head before your voice echoes in the kitchen “I cooked your favorite and you’ll love the surprise, I have nothing to be punished for”.

Flip humms pretending to be thinking, “We’ll see about that, but you’re right, this is delicious. Thank you, cherry” he thanks you voice becoming sweeter as his long hand find its way to yours to rub his fingers on the back of it. “No need to thank me for, I love spoiling you” you state shrugging. It was true, whenever you possibly could you found a way to spoil the man you loved - taking a pack of his cigarettes to the station, buying Coors on your way home, massaging his back after a long day of work - and he did the same for you - washing your hair in your shared showers, ordering food when you were too tired to cook, bringing your favorite chocolate home-.

“Talking about spoiling” you remember, getting out of the chair and making your way to the fridge coming back with a freezing coors in hand, placing it in front of his now clear plate as you sit once again resuming eating your final bites. “You’re too good for me, cherry” Flip’s voice meet your ears as he uses the bottom of his tank top to take the top off of it. “Not true, we are perfect for each other” you answer putting your silver fork and knife down. “Are you ready for dessert?”. 

“I sure am” he says back taking a sip of the cold liquid. Nodding satisfied with the reply, you get up once again gathering the used plates and silverware letting them on the sink as you set the table with dessert dishes. When you take the pie out of the oven after turning it off, you can see the dough is perfectly golden and crispy.

After you place a piece in your plate and on Flip’s you ask him to be careful “If you eat like that again you’ll burn your mouth, honey”. Halfway through his beer your husband smiles at your request setting a bit of the pie aside letting it cool down. “Can you tell what this is all about now?” he asks looking directly into your eyes a trick he knew made you weak, but this time you were too determined to be stopped by anything at all. 

“After we eat” you shrug and look away shaking the effects of his piercing gaze out of you. 

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

When all the dirty dishes are in the sink, you get the box in your hands and after sitting back on the wood chair you hand it over to Flip. Without saying anything, he starts to undo the yellow ribbon placing the silky material on the table. When the box is finally open and the gift inside is revealed to him, his eyes instantly look for yours which are already glossy. 

“This means you are -” he starts voice a little bit hoarse from emotion, “pregnant” you complete standing and making your way to him ready to celebrate. He takes one last look at the yellow baby shoes in the box before hugging you closely and kissing the top of your head. 

You and Flip had been trying to have a baby for a year now, but there hadn’t been positive results until a week ago when a pharmacy pregnancy test you did - after having morning sickness for a week straight - pointed that you were pregnant. But before telling Flip you did a blood test just to be sure, the results had come in the mail this morning while you were cooking breakfast, you almost passed out when you read it, but after putting yourself back together you came up with the dinner plans. 

“I love you so so much, Cherry, I’m the luckiest guy in the planet” he says, tears adorning his eyes too as a smile cracks in his face. “And you’ll be the most loved being in it” he talks to your soon to grow belly as his hands leave your back and find its way to it. “We are the luckiest parents in the planet, Flip” you state giving him a sweet kiss which tasted like your tears, but you couldn’t care less, in the moment there was only you, Flip and your baby. 

[sarah-snook]

di’s masterlist

main ❀ ko-fi ❀ ao3

♡MULTICHAPTER♡

«Burn, Crash, Romance (I’ll Take What I Can Get From You)» AO3 ↬ word count: 2919 | rating: E | WIP - 1/8 chapters | collab with @richietoizer

Richie didn’t know Eddie very well, not that he would want to, and even just looking at him now, he knew that Eddie Kaspbrak was exactly all the things that Richie had tried to tell Stanley that frat boys were. His brown hair flopped into his brown eyes, pressed down by some red snapback worn backwards and beige khaki jeans that looked glued to his legs. He was hot and the smirk on his face showed that he knew it.

«How to Bring Someone Back from the Dead» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 6496 | rating: T | WIP - 3/5 chapters

He finds it in the library. The book is tucked between a couple of self-help books that Mike told him he should look into reading. It’s out of place—doesn’t belong there—but the title peaks his curiosity. How to Bring Someone Back from the Dead. He grabs the spine of the book and gently holds it in his hand, inspecting it. There’s no author, no other information, just a title and a short dedication of sorts on the first page. “For those that have hope still lingering in their hearts…” He looks around, making sure no one is watching him before he swiftly hides the small book in the pocket of his jacket.

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡ONESHOTS♡

«Brave» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 809 | rating: T

He was trembling. Despite the darkness surrounding them, and the shitty dim light of the flashlight he was holding, Richie could tell that Eddie was trembling with fear. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, touch him, hold him. He wanted to tell Eddie that everything would be alright, that they would get through this.

«Coffee Shop Angel» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 2218 | rating: T

“Wow, I’ve never been called a literal angel before.” He’s no longer laughing, but his smile is wide and his eyes were still bright.

“Baby, that should be considered a damn crime,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You deserve to be worshipped.”

«Cold November Rain» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1512 | rating: T

He was an idiot. A stupid, cowardly jerk. Why had he run away? That kiss had been everything he could have ever wanted. It was soft, tender and loving. Richie had put so much emotion behind that kiss. So much, that it had scared Eddie. Scared him so much that he made himself believe it was all some kind of joke.

«Don’t Monkey Around With My Heart» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1228 | rating: T

«Forget the Past, I Want You In My Future» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 3477 | rating: T

He quickly pulled on his coat, making his way through the radio station with a smile as he waved to everyone who greeted him. ‘Keep smiling. You’re almost out of here. Just a couple more steps.’ Richie thought to himself as he pushed open the front doors and stepped outside, cold air hitting him and a chill running down his spine. He hugged himself, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying to warm himself up.

He made his way down the stone steps of the station entrance, fishing through his jacket pocket for his car keys. The last thing he thought, as his fingers made contact with the cold metal of his keys and his foot slipped on a slippery patch of ice, was how much he really fucking hated Christmas.

[or: radio DJ Richie Tozier slips on ice and has to spend Christmas in hospital, with trainee Doctor Kaspbrak looking after him.]

«Habeas Your Corpus» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 6654 | rating: E

A beautiful blond between his legs was not the direction he thought his Monday would be going, but he wasn’t going to question it. Even if a part of him knew that doing this in a courtroom, where anyone could walk in on them at any moment, was a horrible idea. Then again, Richie wasn’t known for his good ideas, much less for his common sense, and so he shrugged away any lingering doubt as he surrendered to the feeling of Eddie’s hands.

«Held In Contempt» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 3044 | rating: E

Richie and Eddie resolve the sexual tension between them after arguing about one of their cases.

prompt: “okay but reddie au where they’re rival lawyers and court is really tense bc eddie goes by the books and richie is Richie and ofc they end up fucking after a particularly heated case…or 6…”

«How to Know If You’re On a Date With Your Best Friend» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 2213 | rating: T

He could see the way Richie looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, eyes slowly widening as he realized Eddie was coming over to sit next to him. Plopping down on the seat, he pushed Richie further into the booth, making himself comfortable. Without breaking eye contact, he placed his straw in Richie’s milkshake glass and asked, “Are we on a date right now?”

«Kiss Me By The Firelight» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1247 | rating: T

“Alright trashmouth, truth or dare?”

He looked over at Beverly, who had plopped down next to him, with a weary expression on his face. He studied her, the mischievous grin on her face not going unnoticed by an already alert Richie.

“Dare, obviously. Only pussies choose truth.”

«Kissed the Mark» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 3975 | rating: E

“Sorry, but you’re gonna have to tell me more than just your name before I let you put your hands on me.” Eddie jokes as he nods his head at Bev in thanks for their drinks. “I’m not that easy.”

“Oh ok, hmm let me think…” Richie says as he pretends to think about what he’s going to say “I like long walks on the beach and being the little spoon, plus I’m a total bottom.”

Eddie flushes at this, turning his head to avoid eye contact with Richie, and takes a sip of his beer. Richie continues to look at him, enjoying the way he continuously makes the other man blush. “What about you?”

«Love Me (If That’s What You Wanna Do)» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1286 | rating: M

It was hard to say who exactly started it. After all, both of them were slightly tipsy the night The Kiss happened. All Richie could say—as his hand slowly slid down Eddie’s back, causing him to let out a faint whimper—was that he was very happy with the outcome of it all.

«Make It Up To You» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 4612 | rating: E

Maybe it was a little fucked up that he took considerable pleasure in watching his boyfriend of almost ten years cry as Richie denied him what he wanted most, but he couldn’t bring himself to care so much. If Eddie had caught on to his little guilty pleasure, he never mentioned it to Richie, and if he had an issue with the way Richie teased him in bed, he would have definitely called him out on it by now.

«Snowed Inn» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 4612 | rating: E

Richie and Eddie are carpooling home from college for the holidays but a snowstorm hits on their way there and they have to stay the night at a b and b.

«The Future Freaks Me Out» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 932 | rating: T

“I’ll tell you one thing and one thing only spaghetti. I don’t want to think about a future where you’re not in it. I don’t want to think about you being on the opposite side of this country from me. I don’t want to think about any of that because I love you and it hurts. So please, shut the fuck up about college applications already!”

«Until I Hear It From You» AO3 // tumblr ↬ word count: 1599 | rating: T

“M-my parents sucked.” Bill said as he choked back a sob. “I mean… my own father hit me with his fucking car and then barely batted an eye. I’m terrified that I’ll fuck this up, Eddie. I don’t want to be a bad father, I want Ellie to have all the love and attention that Georgie and I never got growing up. You and Rich have two adorable daughters that have everything they could ever want…That’s what I want for Ellie. Please, Eddie, tell me how to be a good father.”

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡PROMPTS♡

Hanslon ↬“I finally found you”

Reddie ↬ 🎉👄🤒 ↬ 🐿🍌👙 ↬ “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” + 2. Road Trip AU ↬ “H-How long have you been standing there?” ↬ “You’re sick, let me take care of you.” ↬ “You make me want things I can’t have!” ↬ the gang is playing a drinking game and Eddie wins, and he wants a lapdance from Richie ↬ “You know you don’t have to try so hard with me, right?” ↬ “Are you jealous? That’s cute.” ↬ “Oh, God. We broke it–dude, he’s gonna be so pissed! This is all your fault–it was your idea!” + “… Is that my underwear?” + “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.” ↬ “they said that broken mirror equals in 7 years of bad luck”? ↬ “It’s three in the morning!” ↬ “just because i love eds it doesn’t mean i want to be with him,” eddie heard richie say. «2» ↬ “you know I love you, right?” «2» ↬ “Do you want me to?” «2» ↬ “And what exactly do you think you’re doing, my love?” ↬ You’ve literally dressed as __ for __ years, shouldn’t you change it up? ↬ You drank the punch at the halloween party and made yourself sick so I’m taking care of you ↬ excuse you, i will never be too old to go trick-or-treating and i hear the house down the street gives out full sized candy bars ↬ In the bedroom + Confessing feelings ↬ in the snow + relief ↬ claws - as an apology here’s something I wrote for you ↬ Okay but like Richie finally comes out by writing his first comedy special on his own as like therapy to work through what happened and the whole thing is about the dumb annoying hypochondriac that he was in love with as a kid. “He put his feet in my face and kicked of my glasses and I said to myself he’s the fucking one.” ↬ ficlet for my moodboard based on “he knew well enough” ↬ “I may be short, but you could at least try to make kissing you easier!” ↬ “One baby won’t hurt.” ↬ “I could spend hours just looking at you.”

Richiepat ↬ “you asked me out and I didn’t have time for dating between a full-time course load and my job(s), so I know it’s two semesters later but I’d really like to take you up on that date” + “we always end up eating alone in the school cafeteria at the same time, so when you ask me if you can join me, I’m surprised” ↬ chaotic best friends (platonic with stanpat/reddie) ↬ “My hoodie looks comfy on you.” (platonic with side reddie)

Stanpat ↬ you’re obsessed with my homemade soup that I serve at my cafe and I’m too embarrassed to tell you that I’ve only been trying out new recipes to see you get excited for the soup of the day.

Stanpatchie ↬ “a kiss as a promise”

Steddie ↬ “I catch you yelling at the printer in the library for not working and I don’t mean to alarm you since you’re clearly stressed, but I think you accidentally unplugged it”

Stozier ↬ “some idiots decided it would be funny to mess with peoples’ laundry so now we’re sorting through our dryers and you’re holding up my pink underwear” ↬ “I know you’re mad at me, but will a kiss change your mind?” ↬ “Nothing is going to happen to you.” ↬ can we talk about how “it takes hours to look this good richie” is followed by richie winking at stan

Streddie ↬ A cat followed me home and won’t leave me alone even when I put a little hat on it so I guess I have a cat now AU

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡HEADCANONS♡

↬ Ben // The Sims ↬ Reddie // Sunflowers ↬ Reddie // Chapter 1 End Scene ↬ Stozier and Reddie // Stanley and Richie dated at one point

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 23 Pt 1

The work week was a blur. A normal blur of work, court, kids, hockey, indoor soccer as the weather turned frigid, with the occasional painter and furniture delivery thrown in for good measure. Gustaf stood at the door to Sildie’s office and grinned, it looked great. The boys were busy putting her books in the bookshelf and having a blast. He’d talked to Brendan on the sly and she had all her law books in storage downstairs so there was no need to buy them. While Sildie was plowing through work the kids were “out” with Gustaf. They’d spent the entire morning finding what he was after in their storage room downstairs.

“These were dad’s.” Brendan said quietly, running a finger along the spine. “I remember them from his office.” He watched the teen place the books on the shelf with a heartbreaking tenderness. “She’s going to love this Gustaf.” He said softly. “She’s gonna cry and be angry at you for spending money on her for her birthday but she’ll love it.”

“Yeah I’m preparing myself for the shitstorm.” He chuckled. He knew she’d be angry because she’d specifically said she didn’t celebrate her birthday, but this was important, for her and for the kids.

“Can we put a frame on that wall?” Finn asked. “One like Lily’s?”

“You think she’d like that?” Gustaf asked, the kid nodded.

“We could put goofy photos in it so she’s happy.” He said quietly and hugged Gustaf tightly.

“I think we could manage that.” He said and saw the other two smile at the idea.

“We could start with all the photos from that day in the snow.” Brendan suggested.

“I have some from the twins birthday and yours B.” Gustaf added as Liam put more books on the shelf. “I know Ama has more on her phone, ones from Lily’s birthday.”

“I’ll text them to you.” Brendan said slyly.

“Weren’t these grandads?” He asked Brendan.

“I think so, her dads, I think. I know she had them in America when she was over there.”

“Those would be special to her.” Gustaf said softly. Maybe this would be too much for her, he thought, too many memories shoved in her face all at once.

“They are, I know she’s used them, or use to use them. I think she had a couple next door that she kept out. There just wasn’t enough room to keep them all out.”

“So B can you do a photo slideshow on the sly?” He asked the teen.

“Cakewalk.” He grinned.

“So what else should we get for Ama in here?” He asked and helped Finn put some books on the top shelf.

“I think we leave it.” Brendan said honestly and shrugged. “I know she has some personal stuff in storage that she might want to put in here herself. And she’s gonna flip her shit enough when she sees this.” He grinned.

“Fair enough.” Gustaf chuckled. “Ok, is that all the books?”

“I think so.” Liam said and picked up some of the packing paper that had ended up on the floor.

“Alright then, let’s get back home before Ama suspects and remember, not a word.” They all grinned at him.

She was a little lost with an empty house on a Sunday. Even though she was reading and taking notes, the endless silence was strangely uncomfortable. She found by two, she was actually missing the kids, Gustaf, the comfort of family and the ruckus that went with it.

He’d be gone tomorrow night, back on Wednesday morning, she wasn’t looking forward to the empty bed, to companionship she’d become accustom to. She worried about him, he was still so fragile, his emotional state so brittle. She’d finished reading his notebook and felt slightly sick about giving it back to him, she didn’t want it to spiral him again.

The sound of the boys and the key in the door made her smile. The noise she’d missed earlier was back and filled the apartment. They looked happy, well who wouldn’t with ice cream, even Lily had some and it was all over her, and Gustaf which made her giggle.

“You’re supposed to eat the ice cream love not wear it.” She chuckled moving to him to take the bag from his hand.

“Lily had other plans.” He grinned and kissed her, that slow burn melting her heart. “Hi.” He said softly.

“Hi yourself.” She was still chuckling. “You two are a sight.”

“I’ll be right back, she needs a bath, and I need a clean shirt.” He laughed and kissed her again. “There’s some ice cream in there for you.” He added as he went to bathe Lily.

She pulled out the tub of chocolate mint chip and groaned, the man just knew. It was these little things that absolutely melted her heart, the man paid attention to everything. Grabbing a spoon she sat with the entire tub and continued to read.

“I don’t know how you can eat that.” He joked, grabbing her spoon and eating the mouthful she had scooped out.

“Hey, that’s mine.” She growled. “You’ve had yours.”

“No, Lily had mine.” He corrected and grabbed his own spoon after placing a now clean Lily on the floor to play with her toys. “And painted me with it.” He added as he sat.

“Who says I’m gonna share.” Her grin was playful as he as he went to scoop out a spoonful for himself and cocked an eyebrow at her as she moved the tub to the other side of her book.

“I have the wingspan love and you’ll lose coming between me and ice cream.” He played, she’d been in a better mood since they cleared the air a week ago. He was relieved they’d got past it, a chance now to heal and move on. She hadn’t spoken of him leaving her since and he wasn’t going to bring it up again even though he still felt like an ass for ever putting her through it.

“It’ll cost you.” She quipped facing him.

“Will it now?” His eyebrow shot up.

“Mmm hmmm.” She kissed him slowly, tongue teasing.

“How much ice cream does that get me?” He asked softly.

“This much.” She put a tiny piece on the end of her spoon and fed it to him.

He paused for a moment watching her. That slight grin, the mischief in her eyes. Cupping a hand behind her neck he drew her close and kissed her until her moan made his cock twitch. She was breathless and slightly dizzy when he pulled away.

“I’ll give you the entire tub for another one of those?” She murmured.

“Now that’s a bargain I can’t pass up.” He growled and kissed her again. Her whimper as he pulled away making him smile. She set the tub down so he could enjoy it too and debated whether to give him back his notebook now or hold off.

“I’m going to miss you.” He said, that low timbre soft and quiet.

“I’ll miss you too love. We’re only a call away though.” She said smiling at him.

“Can I come to your office tomorrow for lunch before I head to the airport?”

“You want to?” She was a little dumbstruck and he nodded. He showed more interest in her career than any man before him and it still floored her. “I’d like that.” She flipped her laptop around to check her calendar and nodded. “Lunch for me is at twelve, I have a meeting at one. Bring lunch to the office?”

“I can do that. I’d like to see where you work.” He kissed her quickly and spooned some more ice cream out of the tub. He wanted to get a feel for her office to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Maybe rock her world quickly before he had to board a plane.

“You ok?” She asked gently.

“I’m ok. Better than last trip.” He looked at her and saw the concern.

“Were only a call or text away ok?” Her hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into it, her touch settled him. “You’re enough.” She said gently.

“I’ll be ok, I feel better this time around and it’s only for Tuesday, and I have the weekend to look forward to.” He kissed her sweetly and dug out another spoonful of ice cream.

“I can’t wait for Friday.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, the same sweetness filling his heart. “Where are you taking me?”

“Away.” He grinned when she pouted playfully. It was tormenting her not knowing. “Pack light.” He growled. “You’re going to be naked most of the weekend.” His kiss held the taste of that promise mixed with smooth chocolate and a spike of mint.

Their evening with the kids was the routine grind and Brendan sat with the twins when Gustaf was reading to them. They’d become closer the past few days, like something had shifted. Gustaf didn’t know what, but it had shifted in their favor so he wasn’t going to question it.

He came out to Sildie sitting at the table reading with a very overtired and fussy Lily.

“She still up?” He asked gently.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Little miss cranky pants. I bet she just knows you’re going away.” Lily sobbed curled into Sildie’s shoulder not wanting anything to do with Gustaf. Each time he rubbed her back she pushed him away with a sobbed cry of no.

“I’ll be back Lily bear.” He soothed and went to make a fresh pot of tea. “You know it’s your birthday in a week or so.” He said carefully. He was tempting fate but he didn’t want to blindside her.

“I’m aware.” She said, her tone unmistakably said, drop it.

“Would you be ok for birthday pancakes?” He was walking a fine line because she’d made it well known at the very beginning she didn’t want anything to do with her birthday.

“Do I have a choice?” She said crisply. She didn’t want it, nothing at all to do with her fucking birthday but it was apparently going to happen regardless.

“Yes, you always have a choice, however before you put the kibosh on it I’d like to add the kids want to do something for you.” He sat the teapot down and pulled the chair over to sit close to her. He brushed his finger against hers and her hand stopped writing mid word with a flinch.

“Can I ask why you don’t want to celebrate it when I know from the boys you always did?” He asked gently, he had his suspicions but he wanted to hear it from her.

Her pen hand twitched like it did when she was stressed or thinking, this was probably a little of both, he thought.

“How can I celebrate when I can’t celebrate with Quinn?” She said, that steel edging her voice. “I know you have siblings Gustaf, but he was my twin, he was a part of me as much as I was of him. It’s like I’m missing a vital organ, a part of me and...” Her voice choked. “I just can’t. I’m still trying to get used to living life without him here, without feeling him here, sensing him here. It’s something you’ll never understand.” It was blunt and harsh, but she hoped it would get him to just fucking leave it alone.

His thumb brushed away the stray tear and he kissed her gently. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll do breakfast pancakes because the kids need it. They need to say their happy birthday to their father, they need to grieve, to heal. I’m not there yet, that wound is far to deep for me to handle.” She said trying to stay calm. She couldn’t have a fucking meltdown tonight over it. “Please.” She said softly. “Please don’t force me to deal with this yet, I’m not ready.”

“Ok.” He wouldn’t push but he also knew the books in her office were going to tear her apart. Maybe it was best to leave that for Christmas? It was only another two weeks after her birthday but if he added it in with the rest of his gift it might soften the blow? Fuck he thought, he just wanted to see her happy and yet he had a knack for making her miserable.

“You’ve arranged something haven’t you?” She asked and he saw the anger flicker in her eyes.

“The boys and I have arranged something yes, but I’m having second thoughts as it’s likely to upset you.” Which was the truth.

“I told you I didn’t want anything Gustaf.” She said exasperated, Lily letting out a quiet sob at her raised voice as she was almost asleep. Sometimes the guy just didn’t listen she thought.

“I know.” He said calmly.

“Well if you know then why...” She spat as he gripped her chin and kissed her hard letting all the love he knew she could feel pour out of him, those words were right there but they wouldn’t come out.

“Because the kids need it. That’s why.” His own irritation flaring, not only at the woman in his arms but that those three little words still didn’t want to come out. “I swear, sometimes you are infuriatingly stubborn.” He kissed her again and she softened, it took the wind right out of her sails. “I know how you feel about me spending money on you and the kids but damn it Sildie, let me fucking spoil you for the one day of the year that’s actually yours.” He breathed out. Damn she could get under his skin sometimes, hard headed, stubborn, and he fucking loved her.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured. “I just don’t know how to handle getting older without him.” Her voice was tiny, so lost, he thought. “It just rips me apart all over again.”

“Together, with me.” He kissed her, lingering, soothing. “I can’t bring him back love, fuck I wish I could do that for you, but I can’t.”

“He was always the bigger older brother, and he’s gone.” She sniffed.

“He protected you, took care of you?”

“Yeah.” She leaned forward to lean her head against his shoulder. He was her home now and she had to let him be that for her if this was going to work, but fuck it hurt like hell.

“I know it’s not the same but let me do that now.” He murmured kissing her hair. “Let me be the one to protect you, take care of you.”

“I don’t want to dump that on you too. I can’t be a fucking mess all over you all the time.” She muttered and huffed out a sigh. She was being needy and she fucking hated it.

“You’re not, I want to take care of you Sildie, but you have to let me.” He murmured.

“I’m trying.”

“I know you are love.” He kissed her temple as she sat back against her own chair. “How much more reading do you have for tonight?”

“I can be done.” She huffed out, not really in the zone anymore anyway.

“Go put Lily down, I’ll run you a bath, and then you can soak in the tub. You’ll feel better after a soak in the heat.” He kissed her and stood, taking the cups and teapot to the sink to rinse out.

He walked into the bedroom a little later to find Lily in the crib and Sildie sitting on the floor soothing her to sleep. By the time he had the tub filled and a fresh pot of tea made, Lily was out cold and Sildie was just sitting there lost in thought. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.

“Go soak.” He murmured.

“Sometimes I think I’m taking advantage of you.” She blurted out.

“Why because I draw you a bath and make you tea?” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her longingly. “I do it Sildie because I want to, because I care.” And because I love you, it almost came out. Almost ain’t the words though is it chicken shit, he thought.

“I don’t want you to ever feel like I’m doing that ok? Tell me if I am.” She said softly. She knew these thoughts were from reading his notebook, but what he’d written in there, what Ana had put him through, had rocked her to the core.

“You’re not love and I’ll tell you if I ever feel like you are.” Highly doubtful he thought, and he knew where these dark thoughts were coming from. She must have nearly finished reading it. “Go soak, relax that wicked smart brain of yours.”

“Thank you.” She said, starting to strip.

“Anytime love.” He poured the tea for her and let her be. He wouldn’t be surprised to come back in and find her asleep.

He carefully tidied her work trying not to get things mixed up and stacked it in a neat pile next to her bag. He’d seen her clean up enough to know her routine and the way her organizational mind worked. He couldn’t help the grin, sure she’d be upset, maybe even a little irritated at him but Brendan was right, she’d love the office, her own space.

He sat and read through his schedule for the trip away and smiled. He just had to get through this and he’d be home until the shoot in February. Time, he thought, good quality time with Sildie and the kids and hopefully his family. Have her move in. He knew Christmas would be rough even with the heads up he was giving his family, he only had to get a hold of Sam and Alex, but it would be brutal on her.

The rest of them were understanding and just happy she was coming. They would welcome her with open arms and support her and the kids as they healed. Bill had already offered to take the four of them for sleep overs so she could have a break.

He came in to see her zoned out and relaxed, head resting on the edge of the tub, those long long legs poking out of the bubbles. He knelt down leaning against the tub and kissed her, lips he craved, soft and sweet. Those eyes of glacial blue fluttered open to look into his, damn he was so in love with her.

“You look all warm and soft.” He murmured.

“Iyam.” She slurred.

“Do you need help getting out?” He chuckled as she tried to sit up and flopped back against the edge.

“Oh gravity sucks.” She huffed as she struggled to sit. “I don’t think I have any bones left.” She giggled as his arms came around her to help her stand. “They’ve all melted.”

“Just stand a second love.” He grinned. “Get those fabulous pins under you.” It was just what he was hoping for. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, breathing in the scent of him which would be gone tomorrow night and Tuesday.

He helped her step out and wrapped a towel around her. Her mouth finding his, that slow, seductive burn that he drowned in.

“Sildie.” He breathed as her hands drifted under his shirt. He bent down quickly to pull the plug on the bath, and when he straightened he bundled her into his arms and devoured her mouth.

He walked her back toward the bed, quietly shut the bathroom door, and let her towel drop to the floor. Her hands busied with the zipper while his hands tenderly cupped her breast, he’d take her slowly tonight, savor her.

Her head was swimming from the heat of the bath, his clever mouth, and those hands. Those hands that aroused her like no other, touched her like no other. She pushed the dark blue denim from his hips as he sat her on the edge of the bed while he stepped out of them, her lips never leaving his.

She released his mouth and he stood to his full height. There was something so erotic about the way he gazed down at her. She kissed his chest as his hands disappeared into her hair. The light tug as her hand drifted to stroke him, the groan as she kissed her way down until she was on her knees.

She savored those powerful thighs as her hands wandered, fingers gripping his ass as her mouth kissed everywhere except his erection. She could hear his unsteady breathing, his hands gripping tighter in her hair. She grinned as she licked his manhood from root to tip before swirling her tongue and taking him in her mouth, the growl guttural.

He looked down at his goddess as he slowly rocked his hips, hands still fisted in her hair gently. He loved the feeling of her mouth around him, that talented tongue destroying him. He kept his movements slow, determined to savor the feel of her.

She felt him tense, the struggle to stay in control. His hands pulled her head back enough for those seductive eyes to find his, his body remaining still. She released his cock seeing the unspoken request in his gaze and kissed her way up his body as his hands urged her to stand.

“I want to be in you when I come.” He kissed her, slow and erotic. “I want to feel you come around me.” He stepped toward the bed and she sat when her calves met the mattress. He leaned over her, his towering presence making her feel so safe as she lay back. “My turn.” He growled and ghosted her lips before kissing her with such longing.

He kissed his way down her torso, stopping at her breasts and gently sucking her nipples, that clever tongue flicking. Kneeling between her legs his huge hands flexed out over her thighs to bring them up and open before resting them on his shoulders. He feasted slowly, drawing her release closer and closer to the edge.

“Gustaf.” She sighed when his tongue swirled at her entrance before dipping in and licking her all the way up to her clit. He took his time making her wetter for him before her orgasm crested, her hand diving down to caress his head. He slipped two long digits inside her and watched her come, his gorgeous woman writhing in pleasure. He slowed and kissed his way up her body to devour her mouth, her own ravenous for him.

“Hold onto me.” He murmured and carried them both up the bed, he wanted her comfortable, slow, erotic.

Her hands wandered, drawing lazy patterns against his already aroused skin, the shiver not lost on her. That clever mouth found hers and kissed her so her mind blanked. She whimpered as his cock brushed her thigh, moaned as he took it in his hand and rubbed the tip against her clit and down along her wet folds.

“Roll onto your side.” His voice was husky with need as she did as he’d asked. He knew this was a new favorite and tonight he wanted her comfortable and slowly. He came to his knees and straddled her lower leg, bringing the top one up to bend against her side, her knee almost under her armpit. He lowered himself to kiss her, envelop her with his massive frame, breathe her in as he made love to her.

He kissed her, tongue teasing hers as his tip slipped inside her. The gasp into his mouth was more a purr. He slowly tip fucked her, drawing that purr out of her as he began to bring her undone.

“You like that.” He murmured, kissing her tenderly.

“I like you.” She moaned as he stretched her.

His mouth stayed on hers as her hands cupped his face keeping him close. She was already lost to him, relaxed, aroused, and so ready for him to take.

“Look at me.” He whispered, those stunning eyes finding his as he inched inside her.

“Gustaf.” She choked as he filled her, his girth stretching her beyond what she thought possible. His mouth claimed hers as he started to thrust. The slow destruction of her entire being.

He thrust slow and deep making sure she felt every ridge, every inch of him. Her breath mixed with his as her climax built, the sensations sparking an inferno within her. Her kiss was desperate as she crested, her soft cry as he held her on the edge for a moment before watching her fall.

“Gustaf.” She choked as he kept the pace brutally steady.

“Let go. Let me watch you come again.” He murmured as her body tensed as she peaked again. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as he swallowed her cry, her pussy gripping him tightly. “You’re so beautiful love.”

“Harder. Please.” Her whimper made his cock twitch.

“Not tonight.” He growled. “I want you slow, to feel every gorgeous inch of you against me.”

They took each other, bodies entwined, moving together in an erotic pace bringing them both to the edge.

“Sildie.” He choked as his own release peaked.

“Give yourself to me.” She breathed, her own climax making her tremble.

His long deep strokes into her set her body alight. The feel of him against her, inside her, such pleasure. He watched her teeter on the edge, denying herself the plunge into euphoria until he was there with her. With swift fingers he tormented her clit, slow circles the gentle push she needed.

Her soft cry of his name so full of love, of pleasure made him fall with her. With a barely there groan he followed her into bliss. He rode them down from the high, the gentle thrusts until they were spent. Curling her leg around him he lay there with her in his arms.

“I’ll miss you.” He said softly. “I know it’s just for a day or so but I’ll miss you, miss this.”

She smiled as she snuggled into him. “Same goes love. We’re only a call away. I’ll set the laptop up tomorrow and you can call whenever, if that’s what you need.” She looked up at him and his gaze melted her. So much love there, she thought.

“I’d like that.” He kissed her with that sweet tenderness that always floored her. “You though, need sleep.” He said gently.

“Always taking care of me.” Her smile was one of mild annoyance.

“If I don’t you’ll work until you’ve run yourself into the ground.” He trailed a finger down her jaw and hooked it under her chin firmly. “I don’t like seeing you like that, those dark smudges under your eyes, the stress.” He kissed her. “Promise me you won’t do that while I’m away.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“That not what I asked you.” He chuckled.

“I know.” He could feel her grin against his bare chest. “I don’t sleep well when you’re not here.” She said quietly.

He bundled her in closer, kissing her deeply. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for having a career and doing what you love.” She said softly. “I like sleeping with you, having you next to me every night, but I also like seeing you happy because you’re doing what you love.” She’d miss him but there’s no way in hell she’d guilt trip him. “I’d be very angry if you gave any of that up for me or because of me. That’s not what I want.”

“I know.” His smile set those crows feet crinkling and she couldn’t resist the urge to rub her thumb along them.

“We’re making it work, I’ll just miss you.” She shrugged.

“Thank you.” He sighed and kissed her sweetly. “Thank you for being the incredible person you are.”

“I just want you love. You’re more than enough for me.” Her hand stroked down his jaw playing with his scruff before she kissed him so his mind settled.

“Sleep now.” He kissed her quickly. “Asses to kick tomorrow.”

“Not too many.” She yawned and giggled.

“As long as it’s not mine.” He quipped under his breath and he snuggled her close as she huffed a chuckle.

Sleep took her under quickly. He was content to stroke his fingers along her body as if committing every dip and curve to memory. He wasn’t as anxious at leaving them this time, it seemed like another normal day at the office, life had let them settle somewhat.

His thoughts drifted to her office and the potential grief it would bring. He expected it, he just wondered if it would send her further down into a grief spiral like the anniversary. But the fact was it would hurt the kids regardless of whether they celebrated her birthday or not because it was their fathers birthday as well. They had jumped at the opportunity to do something really thoughtful for her when he told them about the office. Fuck me, he thought, this was gonna suck, damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

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

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

Chapter: 15/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E 

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Mention of violence, language, description of injuries.

~~~

I had become quite used to waking up from my nightmares.

I wasn’t accustomed to waking because of Loki’s.

At least that’s what it appeared to be. His fingers twitched against my bare stomach, tugging and pushing on the soft flesh, rousing me from my deep, dreamless sleep. Cold lips formed silent words against the back of my neck. I shivered from the goosebumps the tickling touch created and placed my hand over his on my stomach, squeezing gently.

“Loki. Sweetheart…” I whispered, carefully rocking my shoulders back against his chest to try to rouse him.

When he didn’t respond I rolled over in his grasp to squint at his face in the moonlit room. The faint light was enough to see the furrow in his brow and the frown tugging on his thin lips. This was not the contented face I was accustomed to admiring as he slept peacefully. I smoothed the pad of my thumb over the crease in his forehead while my other hand came to rest on his chest, rubbing against the firm flesh in what I hoped was a comforting manner. His muscles were taut beneath his skin and told of the tension that lay within his dreams.

His eyes opened suddenly and he sat up in bed, chest heaving. I pulled the sheet up to cover my chest and mirrored his position. My hand automatically found his spine and traced the length of it. His eyes were wild as they darted erratically around the room. He lurched out of bed, grabbed his discarded underwear and slipped them on before walking across the room to stare out of the window.

“Loki?” I asked softly, staring worriedly at his still silhouette against the glass. His shoulders were hunched and his head hung down to his chest. I could practically feel the tension vibrating off of him. With a muffled hiss of pain I crawled out of bed, picking up his shirt from where it had fallen and pushed my arms through the sleeves. Thankfully he had rolled them up earlier, otherwise they would be comically long on my shorter arms. It wasn’t much to fend off the chill of the room, but it’d have to do because Loki looked like he needed me--or at least a hug. Hopefully I could soothe whatever was wrong with him and convince him to come back to our nice warm bed. I padded over to him and wrapped my arms snugly around his waist. My forehead naturally settled into the dip of his spine between his shoulder blades.

“Go back to sleep, little one,” he said, not unkindly, but without the warmth I had come to expect from him when addressing me--especially in the comfort of the bedroom. But even as he said it his hands went from where they had been propped on his hips to cover mine, entwining with my fingers. His words and body didn’t align, and I trusted his body’s signals more in this instance. One talent that the God of Lies excelled at was lying to himself more than anyone else.

I left a light kiss on his back. “You’re obviously troubled over something. I can’t go back to sleep knowing that you're upset.”

He rotated in the circle of my arms so that he was facing me, and his face was unreadable, completely devoid of emotion. Which is the exact expression he always wore when he had emotions that he didn’t want to reveal or he was feeling something he wanted to stifle. He wasn’t fooling anybody, let alone me. “I’m fine.”

Bullshit.

I leveled him with a firm stare. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”

He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead before turning back around in my arms, setting his hands on mine to hold me to his stomach and chest once again as he stared out into the night. I was acutely aware of his heartbeat racing beneath his skin, but at least his breathing wasn’t as erratic as it was when he first woke. It was better than nothing.

“I’m here for you, just as you are for me. It’s a two way street in this relationship, sw-”

“It is nothing,” he cut me off with the hoarse whisper.

“No, i-”

“It’s nothing!” he roared, throwing my hands off of his body forcefully.

At the sound of his voice--deafening in the silence--I jerked back from him, his force and my shock sent me stumbling in my haste to get away from him. I clenched my eyes shut as I tumbled to the ground. A soft cry left my lips from the impact, but I didn’t care about the pain. It was inconsequential compared to the panic that gripped at my thundering heart. When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t Loki who was standing over me, but Malfoy. He wore an evil grin that chilled me to the bone and stole my breath away.

“No, no, no. Not here,” I whimpered, shaking my head and curling my legs up to my chest. I tasted salt from the hot tears that streamed down my face. My fingers tangled in my hair in a futile attempt to block out the endless soundtrack of familial betrayal that I knew awaited me once I was done being punished for my disobedience. I couldn’t protect my whole body, but in this position at least the most important organs and my face were relatively safe from any blows he would have Brawny inflict upon me.

I didn’t know where Loki was. I didn’t know how Malfoy had gotten into the Compound, let alone into my bedroom. This was supposed to be my one safe place. Shouldn’t Loki have heard me sobbing? The damned rooms were next-to-soundproof, of course he couldn't hear me. But he couldn’t save me then; why would he save me now?

At the first touch on my shoulder I flinched away, my escape foiled by the bed behind me. I couldn’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears and my choking sobs. The second touch made me rip my hands from my head and my eyes slammed open to stare at the silhouette crouching over me.

Maybe they forgot to give me that medicine that runs cold through my veins. Maybe I was too well-rested or they fed me too much. But this time, when I called on my powers, they responded. Even in the darkness, I was able to feel about mentally for anything I could use as a weapon, and a broken shard of wood would do the trick nicely. I would pay for it later, most likely with my life, but maybe a stake to the heart would at least get rid of this bastard. It worked for vampires; it’d work for sadistic torturers with terrible fashion sense.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I screamed, fear turning to anger as I opened my hand to call the wood into my palm. Forgoing my powers--I wanted to feel the asshole die by my hand--I scrambled to my knees and lunged toward him with the makeshift weapon raised above my head.

Cold fingers encircled my wrist and ducked beneath my open shirt to splay across my stomach. The frigid temperature and fragile strength behind the touches weren’t what I expected and it shocked me enough to get through the haze blanketing my mind. I leaned back on my heels and blinked several times at the figure restraining me. Slowly, after a few deep breaths, I could make out long dark hair, luminescent fair skin, and the deepest look of sorrow glittering in emerald eyes.

Loki.

The broken table leg clattered to the floor from my slack hand. I had tried to attack Loki. I had gotten so lost inside my head that I didn’t recognize him and I had tried to hurt him. What if I had succeeded? What if I woke up from a nightmare and he was asleep and unable to defend himself? It wasn’t safe for him to be here with me. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to him.

He must have come to the same conclusion because he released me and stalked out of the room without a word.

~~~

To say that I didn’t get much sleep after he left would be an understatement.

Three sleepless nights later and I was an exhausted wreck.

I had driven him away. He had been hurting from what had to have been a nightmare and I had pushed him too far until he had no choice but to snap. I knew that he had a volatile temper. I shouldn’t have been so shocked that he would respond that way eventually. Admitting to having nightmares, to that supposed weakness, was beneath an Asgardian Prince. He was too prideful.

I should have been stronger. I should have been able to snap myself out of it. I shouldn’t have pulled away from him. But he hadn’t been him. He had been my captor, my torturer, and then he was a faceless man who I had been convinced was there to finish what Hydra had started.

And I was too weak from my stay in that hellhole for my normal routine of jogging to the point of exhaustion to do the trick. Didn’t stop me from trying.

At least until another member of Asgardian royalty decided to interrupt me.

“Jen!” Thor’s voice boomed out over the Compound.

I ignored him and continued jogging until I reached the edge of the lake that formed part of the border to the property. People in movies always stared off into the ocean or lake or whatever body of water they had on hand when they were upset and needed clarity. Maybe it’d work for me, too. If nothing else I could push Thor into the water when he inevitably caught up with me.

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, not even panting as he stopped his lazy jog to catch up to me. Was that a testament to his strength or my weakness?

“The entire state heard you.” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my stomach. It took everything inside of me to not run away from him. I didn’t know if I could trust him. Hadn’t he used me, too? Loaning me his clothes on the first day that I became… this and joking around with me. Treating me like a friend, and eventually, a little sister could have easily been an act that Stark convinced him to partake in.

He reached out to me and I took two big steps away from him, ignoring the painful stitch in my ribs and the shaking of my legs as I stared cautiously at him. I wouldn’t show him how exhausted I truly was if I had any say in the matter. Although my pale skin didn’t allow for hiding the dark circles under my eyes, or the bruises and healing wounds all over my face and neck. He may take those as signs of a battle won, the foolhardy warrior that he was; he may see them as worthy battle scars that told tales of my bravery. That sounded like him. Not worth the risk, though.

He sent a warm, hopeful smile my way. “How are you feeling? I have been concerned for you.”

I couldn’t contain the scoff that demanded to be set free from my burning lungs. “Peachy-keen, Captain Sparkles.”

“I see that spending time with Loki has added to your sarcastic wit.” The light behind his smile faded a little, but it was still plastered on his face nonetheless as he mimicked my pose and crossed his arms over his chest.

I bristled at the mention of Loki, AKA the whole reason I was being broody in the biting cold upstate New York outdoors. My sneaker-covered toe kicked a few loose stones into the frigid water in front of me. “Did he send you out here?”

A chuckle erupted from him and he shook his head good-naturedly. “We both know that my brother would not stoop to such measures.”

I hated that my heart dropped from that statement. But why would I expect Loki to ask Thor to do anything for him? It wasn’t like they were super close, although they had grown closer since losing Asgard. It still wouldn’t change the fact that Loki would never admit that he needed help in any situation, especially to Thor. The wounds between them ran too deep to mend so quickly.

“Then why are you here?” I tried to keep the curiosity from seeping into my voice, but even I could tell that a little bit had still seeped in.

Did all Asgardian men tower over people avoiding them to force them to anyway? Or was that an Odinson thing? Thor walked around so that he was only an arm’s length away in front of me and stooped down so he was at my eye level. I tensed up and closed my eyes, banishing the terror that threatened to slither into my thoughts and sink its teeth into me like a snake. I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding in my chest, but I could blame that on the jog that I had just attempted, and I would continue to do so if anyone questioned me about it. With monumental effort, I opened my eyes to stare up at his earnest expression.

“My relationship with Jane was the only romantic experience that I’ve had with a mortal woman, and Loki did not approve. Compared to us, your lives are but a heartbeat. It is foolish for us to grow attached to something that will be so easily taken from us and will cause us so much pain in the end. And ye-”

I cut him off with a snide, “Gee, thanks.”

“Let me finish!” he raised his voice, face contorting with rage.

I swiftly widened the distance between us, the edges of my vision dimmed and my breath caught in my throat. My arms closed over my stomach and I bent over them. He put his hands up in the air in apology and widened the distance between us even further and plopped down on a large boulder. It lessened the menace of his large frame considerably.

Don’t run. Don’t run. Fight it.

After several moments, I was able to breathe as deeply as I could manage with my busted ribs, and my vision had cleared. I didn’t step any closer to Thor as I straightened up and planted my hands on my hips. The water lapping on the rocky shoreline was also incredibly interesting and I couldn’t imagine looking at anything else at that moment.

“I reminded him of these words when your dalliance was revealed to us. He said that the greater pain would be living the rest of his days without knowing the breadth of your love. He has never made an admission similar to that in all the time that I have known him,” he stated, so sincerely that it lifted my piercing gaze from the water to his face.

Exhaustion weighed down my words when I asked, “What’s your point, Thor?” My fear had died down enough so that I could think relatively rationally, but it didn’t mean that I wasn’t stressed from being alone with him.

“Loki needs you,” he insisted bluntly. “I know that you are both far too headstrong for your own good. Both of you have suffered too greatly to let a misunderstanding get between something that could be great.”

“You don’t know what happened between us,” I hissed. Seeking a release from the turmoil inside of myself, I lifted one hand away from my body and a pebble from my feet floated into it. It took almost no concentration to use my abilities to put a little more oomph behind my throw as I tossed it toward the lake. It plopped into the water so far away that the sound of the impact didn’t even reach us on the shore. "Besides, I'm not... I'm not safe right now. I couldn't live with myself if I lost it and he got hurt as a result."

Thor's brow quirked in a surprising impersonation of Loki's distinctive expression. "You and I both know that that would never happen. You love him too much to ever hurt him, and he's strong enough to stop you if you attack him for failing to recognize him."

To be honest, I knew Thor was right. We were both being stubborn assholes to each other. I needed to realize that he hadn’t meant to lash out at me, and he needed to realize that I hadn’t been afraid of him. But he hadn’t approached me to talk it out. With each hour that passed, the more the doubt grew inside of me. He’d probably already thought it out and realized that tying himself to a broken human was a big mistake and gotten the heck out of dodge.

“I know that he is miserable. And he’s too prideful to come to you.” Thor stood up and carefully approached me. Thankfully he stopped several feet away from me, arms open at his sides in a show of trust and peace. “You both deserve to be happy. I know that you will not believe me when I say this, but I have grown to see you as a close friend, perhaps even a sister. You are good for him, and he is for you, and it pains me to see you both avoiding the other for no reason.”

I hated when other people were right.

~~~

One thing I was incredibly good at was stalling.

It was of great importance that I didn’t miss a single hair while shaving in the shower. Then I needed to moisturize thoroughly. Then my sketchbooks needed organizing, and that made my bookshelf look incredibly disorganized, so that needed fixing. Then I needed to do the stretching the doctor Stark hired recommended to keep my muscles from turning into tense wasted cords until I could begin training again. I wasn’t going to be doing that with Natasha again, so then I had to sit on the bed and worry about how I was going to get into fighting shape just going against Loki. It wasn’t like he was even close to an equal opponent to me.

By the time I was done doing all that I definitely needed to do, it was time for dinner and the sun had fallen from the sky.

I paced a track in the floor of my room, delaying the inevitable.

My heart hurt. It hurt so terribly to have Loki on the other side of the wall and yet feel so far away that he may as well not be here at all. It hurt to know the sound of my name on his lips and long for it. I missed his embrace, his smile, his touch. Him. It was an actual ache in my chest that I hadn’t even begun to feel since the loss of my family.

And it hurt to admit that I wasn’t strong enough to keep on this road to recovery without him. It was too difficult to pull myself out of the darkness of my mind, to discern what was real and what wasn’t, and to remember how to be a functional human being. I needed his help.

I was punishing both of us for what few scraps of dignity I had left.

Because I’m a dumbass.

I pulled together every bit of false bravado that I had tucked away in the recesses of my mind, marched out of my bedroom, ignored the din that I heard coming from the dining area, and banged my fist on Loki’s door.

To be met with silence.

Well, that’s awkward.

I quickly scurried back to my room and leaned against the door after it was closed. I didn’t want to linger in the hallway and give the others an excuse to extend another olive branch. They had been trying so hard since I returned. I found my iced coffee waiting for me in the fridge when I foraged in between meals. Another ‘sterile’ sandwich had been left outside of my door the day before. Tense, anxious smiles greeted me whenever I ran into someone else. Banner had left books for me to read about surviving trauma. Stark even hired a doctor to see after my recovery, and that was the only offer I had accepted thus far--out of necessity more than anything else.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., where's Loki?” If she didn’t have an answer, I’d have to ask the others, and I’d almost rather chop off my hand than ask them for help with something.

“He’s in the rooftop garden..”

Figures.

~~~

I never thought that I would think of Loki as anything but devastatingly handsome, but there’s a first for everything.

He looked absolutely terrible as I walked toward him across the softly lit rooftop. With his back to me, I could only tell his mood by his posture, but that was a huge giveaway in itself: slouched shoulders, elbows propped up on his knees, his face cradled in his large hands. That was not how he normally carried himself.

There wasn’t a universe that existed where he didn’t hear me walking up to stand behind him. He was too observant for that. Especially after I stood there for long enough that, staring at him in silence, unable to breach the distance separating us like it was the greatest canyon, my teeth started chattering in my mouth. Perhaps I should have thrown on more than a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, but it was too late to go back now. If I left this rooftop without talking to him I wouldn’t have the nerve to do it again.

“Loki.” I was surprised that my voice sounded so hoarse, so weighted. It was as if uttering those two syllables had ripped my heart in two.

No, the thing that truly broke my heart was the look on his face when I knelt in front of him after my calling to him garnered no response. I delicately traced my fingers up his arms to tangle my fingers with his, and he didn’t fight me when I tugged his face from the sanctuary of his hands. His beautiful eyes were dull and bloodshot as they searched my face hopelessly. I couldn’t see the faintest glimmer of mischief or wickedness or arrogance in their depths, only despair and fatigue. The dark circles shadowing them seemed to only have deepened since I had seen him last. His elegant locks that he always seemed to keep perfectly maintained now hung limply to his shoulders, mussed from what had probably been his hands running through them repeatedly. He had even forgone his usual elegant attire for a simple black zip-up sweatshirt, matching sweatpants, and bare feet.

So, of course, the only thing that I can think to say when confronted with the miserable sight is, “You’re going to freeze to death out here.”

That pulls a mirthless chuckle from him, the sound harsh and cruel on my ears. “Oh, love, it is nearly impossible for me to meet my death in such a way.”

His fingers are ice cold in my grasp, so I begged to differ. “Come inside, Loki. Please.”

His lips twisted into a hollow cruel sneer. “Why do you care?”

“Because I love you, dumb-”

My words were cut off by him falling to his knees in front of me and yanking me into his chest. He clutched onto me like he was a drowning man and I was his life raft, all desperation and fear. Panic rose up within me at the suddenness of his actions, but I fought it. I fought the trembling in my body, from both the cold slowly seeping into my bones and panic rising within me. I fought the terror of feeling like I was trapped in the iron grip of his embrace. I fought the fear that he could very easily squeeze just a little bit harder and my life would be over. I fought the pain in my ribs from his tight embrace and around my eye from being smashed into his chest. I fought. I fought.

I fought.

Because this was Loki. He smelled like spice and leather and home. He was agonizing over a stupid misunderstanding we’d had not even a week ago. He protected me when I needed it most, even if he had temporarily failed to uphold that promise. His being an ass didn’t change the fact that he was mine and I was his.

“I do not deserve it,” he whispered, his low voice muffled by his lips pressing into my hair.

When I tried to pull away so that I could address him face to face, his hands only tightened around my waist, so I spoke into his sweatshirt. “You’re right. You don’t. Nobody deserves having a broken, violent, mess of a woman like me as their partner.”

That did it. He loosened his death grip on me to hold me away from him just enough so that he could take me in. I pulled my hands from where they had been pinned between us to cup his strong jaw and stroke the edges of it tenderly.

“And I don’t deserve an arrogant prince who has anger management issues and is slowly freezing me to death on this rooftop.” A small smile crept across my lips. “But you deserve love, and so do I. And that’s what I can offer you. That’s all I can offer you, messed up as I am.”

He shook his head even as he leaned into my touch. “I raised my voice at you.”

“You did, and you will again. And it did scare me, because I stopped seeing you and I started seeing him. But that isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known I would react like that,” I murmured, a shiver ran down my spine both from the flash of my captor’s face across my mind’s eye, and the combined chill of his skin and the breeze.

Concern tightened the corners of his eyes, and Loki wordlessly removed himself from my grasp to lean back and unzip his jacket, revealing the thin white t-shirt he wore underneath. He draped it over my shoulders and I gratefully pushed my arms through the long sleeves. It smelled heavenly and the extra layer of plush fabric provided the protection from the cold that I had unwittingly forgone.

“You’ll get cold,” I protested weakly, not really wanting to give up the jacket, but I had to say it nonetheless.

A frown settled on his lips. “I will not,” he insisted. His tone made it clear that he would accept no further argument on the subject.

He stood up and managed to find my hands buried within the too-long sleeves of his jacket and pulled me up by them. When I gritted my teeth from my still-healing body protesting the action after kneeling on the cold, hard roof for even that brief moment of time, he slipped his supportive grasp beneath my upper arms to further support me until I plopped less-than-gracefully down on the bench he had just left. He settled down next to me and took one of my hands in both of his so he could rub it between his in an attempt to warm them. It only made them colder, if anything, but I would never complain about that.

“I was…” He stared down at our joined hands, indecision written in the furrow of his brow and the lines around his eyes.

“It’s okay, love.”

His limp hair danced around his head as he shook it furiously. The hunch in his shoulders lifted as he sat up straighter to face whatever information he was so conflicted upon giving me. “No. You deserve to know this. I should have foreseen how you would have reacted--and deep down I did know this, my temper just got out of hand--because I have been in a similar situation to yours. Thanos, the Titan that you and your Avengers are trying to stop, and The Other…” he trailed off with a haunted, far away look in his eyes.

I leaned forward enough to prop up my elbows on my knees so that I could comfortably lift his hands to my lips and dot his knuckles with soft brushes of my lips while he spoke. I didn’t want to interrupt him while he was trying to say something so important and obviously difficult. It brought the barest uptick of the corner of his lips for just a brief moment, but it was enough to convince me to continue the tender gesture.

“Knowing from a first-hand basis what you were experiencing while I was powerless to do anything to take you from them.” He lifted his heartbroken gaze to meet mine with a deep breath. “The driving force for my existence became finding you, protecting you, and I failed on both accounts. I know what it is like to be tortured and beaten and… broken and I couldn’t protect you from it. You bear these wounds because I failed you.”

A small noise of disagreement came from my throat, but I didn’t offer him any words of solace. Not yet. I needed to process what he had just unloaded on me. Thanos had tortured him? We knew that he was incredibly powerful, but how powerful would he have to be to hold Loki captive and beaten for a year’s time? What would that do to someone’s mind? I was barely scraping by after a much shorter stint in my own Hell. Loki had to be incredibly strong to be keeping as calm and measured as he had been. Maintaining any semblance of normally must take such a large toll on him.

And it explained how he had become so adamant in caring for me since I came back to the Compound. Before our fight, if that’s even what that was, he had been making sure I’d eaten, reminding me constantly that I was safe, standing up for me against the others, and so much more. It was all because he had to face the same struggles in the past, and he didn’t wish that for me. It was both heart wrenching and incredibly touching at the same time.

“When?”

“Before New York,” he answered tightly, his cheeks colored with shame.

“Oh.” That explained so much. Who could be held responsible for their actions after living like that for so long? I certainly couldn’t, even with how much pain that day had caused to myself and countless others. He had been hurting just as much. Really, it seemed like what Hydra had planned to do to me, Thanos and whatever The Other was had accomplished in him. “Does anyone else know?”

A sarcastic laugh burst out of him, cold and humorless. “Would anyone else care?”

I left one last kiss on the back of both of his hands before lowering them to my lap. Carefully, I trailed my free hand up his arm to cup the back of his neck and rub at the tension I found there gently. “So that was the cause for your nightmare the other night?”

He tugged his hand back into his lap, but he didn’t move away from my hand working at the stiffness in his neck, which was better than I’d hoped for. He needed distance, but not complete separation. I could work with that.

“It was. It is a weakness that I have not yet managed to overcome,” he muttered with disgust.

Oh, that does it.

I crossed my arms over my stomach and leveled him with my best ‘do-not-bullshit-me’ stare. “Am I weak?”

His eyes widened and he cupped his hands over my knees, leaning forward slightly so that he could look into my eyes to convey his sincerity. “Of course not, little one. You have been so strong and brave for what you endured. Those-” he took a deep breath and a muscle in his jaw ticked, “those monsters did their measure best to break you. If you had come away from that traumatic situation without any residual struggle I would have questioned your sanity.”

I quirked my brow at him and tilted my head forward. I could wait all night for him to get my point. Even disheveled as he was, the view was unbeatable. Unless my bare feet froze off first.

Realization dawned on his elegant face, but he crushed it with that same look of disappointment I was growing to hate and he leaned back on the bench with another shake of his head. “It is not the same for me. I’m-”

I cut him off by touching my frozen finger to his lips. “You’re as Asgardian Prince and held to a higher standard than us lowly mortals? You were raised in a warrior culture that worships brutes like Thor who charge into battle with little regard for whether or not that is the right move? You were taught by Odin and Thor that you were lesser than because you weren’t always so gung-ho about jumping into conflict without putting some thought behind it? I know that your asshole of a father made you feel like you weren’t good enough because you would rather use words, or cunning, or even magic to get out of a situation rather than brute force.” I softened the harshness of my tone with a small smile. “Loki Friggason is allowed to have a heart. Loki, my love, is allowed to show that he has more emotions than arrogance or sarcasm. He is allowed to be soft and loving and sad and kind.” I lifted his hand to my face and molded it to cup my cheek over the bruise that still lingered on my skin. “I’m in love with the man who draws me closer to him in his sleep, who smiles at me with nothing but warmth when we wake up tangled together in the morning, who pulls me back from the brink when it seems all I can do is descend into the darkness of my memories. That man is so much better than the one your father was so disappointed that you weren’t.”

As I spoke, the hardness slowly seeped away from his features. The harshness around his eyes faded away to reveal glittering, tear-filled eyes. The firm set of his mouth became a small, hopeful smile that was barely discernible, but it was still a far sight better than the frown he had taken to wearing. His thumb lightly caressed the yellowed skin of my cheekbone as he gazed down at me.

He crashed his mouth into mine without warning. It was a desperate, hungry kiss of teeth and lips and tongues that barely scratched the surface of the emotions boiling inside of him. I met him breath for breath. My hands clamped into the fabric of his shirt to hold him to me as we leaned over our knees on the bench. A low growl came from his throat when I nipped lightly at his bottom lip, and his tongue dove into my open mouth to tangle with mine relentlessly. Each touch of his mouth on mine sent waves of heat through my frigid body, warming me and waking me against the fatigue and cold I had been fighting against only moments ago. He was everything and I still craved more. I would never get enough of him for as long as I lived.

We were both panting by the time he broke the kiss. Our exhalations swirled in the air between us in small clouds as he let his forehead rest against mine and brushed our noses together. I expected to find happiness in his eyes when I opened mine, but instead complete anguish had fallen over him instead. His lips peppered over my cheeks, my eyelids, my forehead, and then he pulled away from me completely to stand up and move a few paces away from me, leaving me to watch him breathlessly as he paced before me.

After several moments of watching him fight with himself mentally, I broke the silence with a worried, "Loki?”

My voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts and he stopped pacing to turn to face me, his bare arms crossed over his chest. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but only closed it again with a harsh exhale when nothing came out. I was afraid to break whatever train of thought he was working through, so I sat there silently, the only movement I dared make was to curl my legs up to my chest and wrap his hoodie around them so that I could tuck my feet beneath its edge. My poor toes were slowly becoming popsicles, but I would stay outside for however long he needed.

“You are always so perceptive, and you are right about quite a lot when it pertains to me. But you’re missing one crucial detail. The reasons you listed are not the only justifications for my father’s disappointment or my brother’s lack of respect for me. It is much deeper than that. Thor speaks of how I was adopted, but I was not adopted from an Asgardian mother. Oh, no,” he laughed bitterly, a familiar sound for the evening and one that I am growing tired of, “I am not Loki Odinson or Loki Friggason.”

I didn’t know where he was going with his speech, but my stomach was rolling inside of me. I yearned to reach out to him and stop his hands from fidgeting in front of him. Every part of me longed to soothe the agitation pouring off of him in droves, but I was rooted to the spot by the dread taking root in my heart.

I knew that he was adopted, everyone knew that, but that didn’t make him any less Frigga’s son--I refused to claim Odin as his father. I needed him to just spit it out before I jumped to what would probably be a far worse conclusion that what he was trying to say. “Loki, you’re scaring me.”

Abruptly, his hands seized the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, dropping the discarded item of clothing to the ground next to him. His piercing gaze commanded mine, and I watched dumbstruck as his frightened, anxious emerald eyes melted into a startling bright red. I was only vaguely aware of my jaw-dropping as his exposed skin shifted from the pale porcelain that practically glowed in the moonlight and turned into what looked like a light blue--it was difficult to tell in the odd mixture of moonlight and warm lamps dotting the garden. Lines appeared to etch themselves in a symmetrical pattern across his forehead and cheeks. Similar lines traveled down his arms and across the defined muscles in his chest, down his abdomen, and disappeared into his pants. He no longer looked like the Asgardian man that I had quickly grown to love over the last few months, but something more, something inherently alien.

When I was able to lift my exploratory gaze back to his blood-red eyes, I found him looking at me with such self-loathing and anger and torment that tears gathered in my eyes and dripped down my cheeks.

“I am Loki Laufeyson of Jotunheim, and I am a Frost Giant.”

[littledreamybeth]

Lost Angel

A/N: Hey guys this an editted reupload from a work that I had shared over two years ago! I’m gonna rewrite some stories from time to time :)

Warnings: act of violence, mentions of blood & death 

-edited-

I slam the door behind me as I enter my bedroom, leaning my back against it. My entire body feels numb and I have no power over myself anymore. My eyes are red and swollen from the uncontrolling tears that I’ve shared not a very long tim ago, and all I do feel is pain. An unimaginable pain that kills me from the inside. An unimaginable pain that stabs my heart like thousand knives. An unimaginable pain that tears me apart. My legs can no longer hold me steady, resulting in me sliding down the door, wrapping my arms around my knees and starting to sob again. How can my day end like this?

My happiest night has turned out to be my worst nightmare. I still cannot process everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Everything has gone so fast and I couldn’t prevent it from happening. I treid fighting , but I wasn’t strong enough. My struggles were not enough to protect him and to keep him safe. I have failed him.

Why? Is all I can think about. Why did it happen? Why did I lose him? Why? Why? Why?

My throat begins to ache as I scream out this question over and over again, until I cannot handle it anymore, and my vocal cords begin to ache. I weigh my body back and forth in order to calm down, but I can’t. The pain-  the pain in my chest is too unbearable. I feel like I’m dying. I feel like someone knocked the air out of my lungs. I feel as if someone ripped my heart out of my chest, stomping on it in front of my eyes.

I want him back- I only want him back. His kiss, that he has given me for the last time, still lingers on my lips. The feeling of his arms wrapping around my waist is still present. His beautiful scent- I can smell it as if he’s right next to me. But he isn’t- not anymore. I will never see him again.

I will never have the chance to kiss him one more time. I will never be able to hold him or to talk to him again. All these chances are now taken away from me. No more hugs, no more late night calls, no more “I love you’s” escaping from his beautiful lips.

If I had known what the night would turn into, I would have never agreed to go to this fucking party.

The darkness of my room is a perfect contrast to what I feel now. Emptiness. My other half is gone, leaving me alone in void and with a broken heart.

Still sobbing and choking, I tug at my hair. I try to erase the memory from this night, but I fail. That moment- that horrible moment is burnt deep in the back of my head. I blame myself even though I know that it’s clearly not my fault.. I take the whole responsibility for that terrible event of the night even though I shouldn’t, because I had no control over it.  When I open my eyes, I can see his lifeless and motionsless body in front of me once more. This picture is so vivid.

“No!” I shake my head heavily in denial. “No! No!” I want these images to leave my mind and never return. I never want to be reminded of this night. Never!

“Marcel…” I whimper out, my heart feeling thousand times heavier. “Please come back to me… please baby…”

-Few hours ago-

“Look at the stars. They’re shining very bright tonight, don’t you think?” Marcel pointed to the sky. We were strolling over the huge football field of our school, enjoying each other’s presence. His warm hand was intertwined with mine as we walked around. Marcel’s always been a fan of the stars and  the galaxy in general.

I looked up, staring at the tiny dots that decorated the dark sky, illuminating the large black layer with their light. The wind blew lightly at our faces, and the atmosphere fitted perfectly to the moment that I was able to spend with Marcel.

“They’re beautiful,” I commented.

“Just like you, sweetheart,” he answered, kissing my temple. Why did I see this coming?

“Aww, stop Marcel.” I pushed him gently away, my cheeks turning red from his compliment.

“I’m just telling the truth, darling!” He laughed and pushed me back against his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nestling my face into the crook of his neck. If you  had asked me;  we could have stayed here, in the middle of the huge football field, all night long, just like this- being in each other’s arms. Having Marcel in my life made a lot of things easier for me.

I felt his strong heart beat  drumming against my ear. A wonderful sound that always calmed me down when I had to deal with anxiety or stress. My fingers wandered up his neck, playing with the tiny curls that he couldn’t treat with hair gel. I didn’t really comprehend why he prefered to use that shit, his natural curls looked much more better on him than his slick hair combed to the side.

A pleased hum came out from his mouth. “Do you want to go back to the party?” He asked.

I shook my head no. I’d rather spend more time with my boyfriend here, where no single soul could disturb us. Also, I  really had no desire to see all those people who had fun making Marcel’s life a living hell. We had been there already, but when some of those arrogant people spotted us and started to insult Marcel, I couldn’t hold on anymore and asked my boyfriend to leave. I knew he didin’t mind these words being thrown at him, but to me they were like a spear through my heart.

A few of those people were supposed to be my best friends, and I felt disgusted that I used to hang out with them in the past. I had belonged to the famous cirlce of popular students at our school, but traded that label against going out with Marcel. One they had found out about it, they immediately had excluded me from their group. I didn’t mind if I’m honest. I didn’t care for fame. I didn’t care if the other’s described me as the nerd’s girlfriend. I was totally satisfied with that name, and I couldn’t complain about it. I loved Marcel and stood up for him, and that was the most important thing.

“Come on, let’s take a seat,” Marcel suggested, leading us to the benches. As we sat down, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, keeping me warm at the same time. I’ve already gone out with many boys, but no one ever made me feel like Marcel did. Special.

He treated me like a gentleman- with care, respect and love. Not even my ex Jason, who also had a reputation at our school, could manage to give me affection. We had dated, yeah, but I think as for him, it was more about being the hottest couple at the entire school. He never gave me the feeling that he was really interested in me. I suppose, I had worked more for our relationship than he did.

“I can’t wait to graduate,” I sighed, leaning on his shoulder. In a few months, we would finish school. I couldn’t wait any longer for it. Marcel and I decided to move in together and to study at the same university. I was so eager to leave everything of this life behind and to start a new chapter. I was looking forward for our common future. One day, I would marry Marcel, and we would have lots of children playing in the backyard of our huge house. Just the plain thought of it let my heart doing flips. A smile crept its way on my lips, and Marcel noticed.

“What are you thinking about?” he inquired, giving me a tender kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his sweet gesture.

“I’m just imagining our future life. You and me as a married couple with little children. I’m really looking forward to that moment.”

“Oh, my pretty angel,” Marcel spoke lovingly, “I can’t wait for it, too. If you ask me, I would want us to marry and have babies now, but we’re too young. We have to concentrate on our career and education first. And when the time has arrived and we both feel ready for it, I will go down on my knees and ask you to marry me. It’ll be special, I promise.”

“Marcel…” I whispered, tears threatening to fall down my cheeks. Sometimes, he made me so emotional that I couldn’t help but tear up to the promises he would make me.

“Don’t cry my, love,” he responded, wiping away the single tear that had escaped my eye.

“I love you so much, Marcel,” I mumbled, bending forward to capture his lips with mine.

“I love you too, my angel,” he murmured before our lips met to a passionate kiss.

Thousand butterflies erupted in my stomach, and I felt tingles running through my entire body- every single part of me felt alive. Words couldn’t describe how much love I felt for this young man in my arms. How much I admired and adored him! He was my everything. The air for my lungs. The reason why I woke up every day and endured my not so spectacular life. The reason for my smile. I would never be able to love somebody else as much as I loved Marcel. As long as we were together, everything else didn’t matter for me.

As we pulled back, a genuine smile decorated our soft lips.

“Do you want to go home?” he asked and I nodded. It had become very late already, and I felt a huge load of exhaustion weighing on my shoulders. I only wanted to go back home with Marcel, who would be sleeping at my place, and cuddle against him. We stood up, his body pressed to my side as we walked along the entire field to the gate.

And that’s the moment where the nightmare began. Fate took its course.

We noticed someone shouting in the middle of the night, probably some drunk ass students from school. Like mentioned before, there was a party taking place, and everyone was invited. As we saw them coming towards us, my nails dug into Marcel’s arm, an uneasy feeling was overwhelming me.

And as I realized that it was Jason and two of his pals, I felt more insecure. Normally, I wasn’t afraid of Jason, but when he was drunk, he completely changed and became unrecognizable.

“Look who we have here!” Jason slurred, he seemed to be completely drunk. “(Y/N) and Marcel! What a lovely surprise! Haven’t expected you guys to be here! What were you doing?”

His two friends laughed, and I rolled my eyes, clearly not having desire for his stupid behavior.

“Hey Jason,” Marcel said confidently, standing in front of me like a shield and trying to protect me from my ex-boyfriend. “We were about to go.” Just as we tried to pass the three wasted boys, Jason pushed us back.

“But we just came!” he whined. “Why don’t you guys stay here and have a little bit fun with us, huh?” His eyes wandered down my body while he was licking his bottom lip. I felt disgusted and uneasy under his gaze. Marcel held me closer to his side.

“No thank you,” he spat.”We are going now.” I admired Marcel’s braveness. I was ashamed that I couldn’t form a single word.

Jason’s eyes turned into a darker shade, and it scared me. He still couldn’t bear the fact that I had dumped him for Marcel. His stupid, big ego didn’t understand, and he had refused move on from our breakup. Even though he knew I had another boyfriend, he still chased after me. I knew he wanted a pay back. He wanted his revenge. And now, with his veins filled with alcohol, he made a dangerous appearance.

I felt a firm grip on my wrist that pulled me away from Marcel. “You can go, nerd. We will have fun without you, right (Y/N)?” Jason growled.

“Let me go, Jason!” I ordered, trying to get rid of his grab. But he refused to take his hand off of me.

“Leave my girlfriend alone!” Marcel interfered, pushing Jason hardly away from me. Jason stumbled back, almost falling to the ground, but managed to keep his balance.

“Look at that!” Jason laughed. “The nerd finally showing his balls! Very cute.”

“Stop it, Jason!” I shouted. I wanted to prevent a fight between them and just go home as soon as possible.

“What?” Jason laughed. It was obvious that he found it amusing.”C’mon (Y/N), you know I’m better than he is and he’ll ever be. Come with me and I will make you feel good.”

“It’s not the way you treat a woman, you asshole!” Marcel screeched, anger was boiling in his veins I could tell. “She’s not a fucking object!”

“What did you just say?” Jason shouted, triggered by the word.

“Asshole. You’re an asshole. That’s what I’ve said. You’re sick, Jason. You have no respect for woman or for anyone else. You just care about yourself! And you shall be man? I feel sorry for you!”

And that was a moment for Jason in which exploded. No one was ever allowed to insult or underestimate his masculinity. “You’re going to pay for this, you fucking loser!”

Jason took us all off guard when he punched Marcel on his nose very hard, making him fall to the ground. I could practically hear it crack. A thick layer of blood trickled down his nostrils.

“Marcel!” I screamed, moving forward to help, but suddenly, I was held back by one of Jason’s drunk friends. He held me so tight, I couldn’t escape out of his arms. I could feel a bruise forming on that particular spot.

I had to watch how Jason and his other friend began to beat my boyfriend. They wouldn’t stop kicking him. “Stop!” I cried. “Please stop!” I couldn’t bear to see him getting hurt. Tears wouldn’t stop streaming down my cheeks, and no matter how much I struggled to get to my boyfriend, it didn’t worked. So I screamed.

“Help!” I hoped that someone would hear my desperate cries and come to the rescue. But no avail.

One of them hit Marcel on his chest, whereas a suffocated sound passed his lips. That sound agonizingly pierced through my ears. I watched as his upper body lifted and fell slowly. His limbs began to become weaker and weaker. He struggled to breathe. His terrified eyes met mine, begging me to save him, however, my hands were tied by this god damned fucker. I stepped on his foot, and with a scream he shortly released me, only to catch me again. He slapped me hard.

“Y/N!” Marcel croaked. He raised one arm as if he was trying to reach out to me. “My..my…” was all that he waerily whimpered. I struggled to decipher his message as suddenly it began to hit me. Marcel had a fucking heart issue! How could I forget?! How often had I went to the hospital with him, where doctors had ordered many times that Marcel should take it easy on himself and spare himself from trouble.  

He would die if they didn’t stop instantly. “Jason! Please stop! Stop! You’re going to kill him! Please stop!” I pleaded, but they ignored me totally.

“That happens when you mess with me!” Jason growled, keeping hitting on my boyfriend. Marcel tried to weakly fend off the kicks. His moans and groans burnt themselves into my mind.

Jason hit his chest again, so hard that Marcel screamed in pain this time. “Jason! Stop! Please, I’ll do what you want, please!” I would do anything he wanted me to. He just should get away from Marcel.

As the two guys kicked him for the very last time, Jason’s final blow hit Marcel’s chest right were his heart was placed, my boyfriend’s eyes meeting mine as if he wanted to appologize, his lips breathing “I love you”. Then he closed his emerald green eyes and stopped moving, laying motionless on the ground. I screeched so loud that the whole world  probably had heard me.

Jason looked at me, clear confusion written across his face.

And as he and his friends realized that Marcel wasn’t moving anymore, panic arose in them and  they cowardly fled.

“Fuck, let’s get out of here!”

The boy, who had hold me back the entire time, pushed me to the ground and ran away. I landed hard on my knees, tears streaming uncontrollably down my cheeks as I crawled my way to Marcel on all fours.

“No… No.. no no no.” I sobbed when I reached him. His beautiful face was covered in blood and bruises. His glasses  and his nose were broken. He looked terrible. “Marcel…” I whimpered, shaking his body, but he didn’t respond. I tried once more. Again, there was no reaction.I prayed from the bottom of my heart that he was only unconcious and not what I thought he would be.

My trembly fingers went to  check his pulse. My heart dropped and a cold shiver ran down my entire body. I couldn’t find it. There was no pulse anymore. I was paralyzed for a moment. This couldn’t be true. So, I checked it again but I didn’t feel it. “No…” I shook my head in denial. He couldn’t be gone. He couldn’t be dead. This was just a fucking nightmare. If I closed and opened my eyes again, Marcel would be standing in front of me, all alive and smiling. He would embrace me and tell me that he was fine and that I had no need to worry about him. However, as I did, nothing that I hoped happened. Marcel’s corpse still laid in front of me.

“No, Marcel! Don’t do this to me, please!” My hands went down to his chest to give him a heart massage. That’s what I did. Pushing on his chest and checking up his pulse. I never received a response. No matter how much I tried. “Don’t do this to me, Marcel. Don’t die on me! Don’t die on me! Come on! Please!”

I was a crying mess, not wanting to believe that I’ve lost the love of my life. I had watched him die, taking his last breath in the worst way ever. “Marcel, baby, don’t do this to me! Don’t die on me baby, please!” I kissed his forehead. His cheeks. His lips. Hoping he would open his mesmerizing green eyes again. “You promised Marcel, we were going to marry! You wanted to propose to me one day, asking me to be your wife. You can’t let this go! Don’t leave me alone, my love, I’m begging you!” I buried my face in the crook of his neck, my eyes wetting his soft  and smooth skin. “Marcel… What am I going to do without you?! Baby, you can’t die, you can’t leave me alone! Wake up please!” I repeated over and over again. “Please, Marcel!”

As much as it hurt, I knew he would never come back to me again. My baby, my Marcel had become an angel now.

-Present-

“I love you… I love you so much, baby,” I sob, staining my pillow with my tears. It hurts. It hurts so fucking damn much. Even lying in my bed hurts. Macel and I have made so many memories in here and now, I feel trapped in my own bedroom, sulking in the remains of the past. If I only had the chance to rewind time, then I would’ve never left my house. I would’ve asked him to come over, so we could have a date night at my place. I could slap myself. Why did I suggest to go to that stupid party? Why?

“Look at what you’ve done!” I shout at myself. “He’s dead. He’s dead because of you stupid bitch!”

I scream loud. What will I do now? Everything is going to become different.

Without Marcel, my life will make no sense anymore. Without him, living will not  worth anything. Without him, I will never feel love again.

[castielsgal]

Supernatural S13 E5  Advanced Thanatology / The night Castiel returns 

Credit to Writer: @angelofthequeers  / Credit to Artist: myself / Castielsgal<3

The drive back to the bunker was…surreal. Dean’s eyes kept flicking to the rear-view mirror, watching Cas slump in his seat, eyes watching his dark surroundings fly past outside the window in a blur. It almost felt like he was making sure that Cas couldn’t just disappear again.

No, that wasn’t going to happen. Cas was here. He was safe and sound. Here in Baby, with Dean. But that didn’t mean that Cas couldn’t still vanish again. Rule of thumb with Dean’s life: anything normally impossible was certain to happen to him.

Man, he should’ve let Sam drive back. Right now, all he wanted to do was imprison Cas in his arms and kiss the breath out of him and make sure that he couldn’t go anywhere ever again.

And okay, the meeting between Cas and Jack was actually kinda sweet. Dean would deny it until his (permanent) dying day but seeing Jack hug Cas and finally knowing for sure that Jack saw Cas as his dad and not Lucifer…it warmed Dean’s cold, dead heart, especially when Jack admitted that he’d begged for Cas to return and had possibly been the reason for Cas’ resurrection. And the kid was so eager to please, even having found them a case out in Dodge that they were going to head out for in the morning.

Which was how Dean found himself in his bed, wide awake at ass o’clock in the morning, unable to sleep despite being physically and emotionally drained after that ghost house case, his confrontation with Billie, and Cas coming back from the dead. It was the Cas part that was especially getting to him. Cas was right here, in the bunker, and all Dean had to do was go and see for himself that Cas was really alive…but he just couldn’t. There was still a part of him that was terrified that this was all a dream and he’d wake up with the taste of regret on his tongue and a pit of despair in his stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had this dream, though it’d never felt so goddamn realistic.

“Fuck it,” Dean muttered. If it was a dream, it was a freaking dream. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stumbled over to his door, and opened it…only to end up face-to-face with Cas, who had a fist raised to knock.

“Dean.” Cas lowered his fist. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me so soon after –”

“Get the hell in here.” Dean reached out to grab Cas by the tie, then yanked the angel into the room and closed the door by shoving Cas into it, sealing their mouths together like he was dying of thirst and Cas was his oasis. Which, okay, was the sappiest fucking thing he’d ever thought, but it wasn’t actually that far from the truth regarding how he was feeling.

“I’m happy to see you too, Dean,” Cas said breathlessly when Dean retreated for air. Dean let out a funny laugh-cry and rested his forehead on Cas’ shoulder, his own shoulders shaking with the sobs he was trying to contain because goddammit, Dean Winchester did not fucking cry. Even if his boyfriend slash love of his life had just come back from the dead.

“You died.” Dean slid his hands under Cas’ trench coat – Trench Coat 3.0, wasn’t it? Whichever cosmic being had sent Cas back had given him a trench coat eerily reminiscent of the first – and pushed it off his shoulders. “You fuckin’ died.” Off came the suit jacket. “Again.” Then the tie. “And I – I freaking prayed to Chuck. But he ignored me.”

“I didn’t think Dean Winchester was the praying type,” Cas said. But the joke died as soon as it crossed his lips.

“Shuddup.” Dean fumbled to undo Cas’ shirt buttons, resisting the urge to just rip Cas’ shirt open and tear it off him. “I never pray. But you – you’re different. I hate it. I hate what you do to me.” His breath hitched. “I fucking hate you, Cas.”

Cas reached out to cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the skin. Dean fought back the choked sob that threatened to break free.

“I love you too, Dean.” There was so much damn tenderness and understanding and affection in Cas’ voice and shit, shit, Dean couldn’t take it, he needed to touch Cas right now, ground himself, reassure himself that Cas was here and alive, because if this was a dream or if someone was fucking with him, he wouldn’t be able to take it –

“Dean?” A hand grabbed his and squeezed, anchoring him against the flood of thoughts and fears and just everything that was threatening to overwhelm Dean and sweep him away. When Dean’s vision refocused, the first thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes crinkled with concern and fixed right on him. “Are you okay?”

Fuck it. Dean ripped Cas’ shirt apart the rest of the way, causing buttons to scatter across his bedroom floor and Cas’ shirt to slither off, and then grabbed Cas by the hands and tugged him backwards towards the bed. Dean fell back on the mattress and pulled Cas on top of him.

“I love you.” Dean’s voice cracked. “I love you so goddamn much. And it terrifies me. You fucking terrify me, Cas. This – this power you got over me –”

“Is the exact same power you hold over me,” Cas said, brushing strands of sandy hair out of Dean’s eyes. How was the son of a bitch so damn calm about all this? “I’m just as scared as you. But I’m back, and I won’t let Lucifer take me from you again.”

“You left!” Dean let out a small sob and wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck to bury his face in the angel’s shoulder. “You left me, Cas!”

“But I came back,” Cas countered. “I always come back to you. I always come when you call, Dean.” He ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, sending a thrill of sensation shuddering through Dean’s body. “I know what will help.”

Dean untangled himself from Cas so he could ask what exactly was happening. But as soon as he caught sight of the look of concentration on Cas’ face, he knew. “Cas, no, you don’t gotta bring your wings out, I know you hate how they look –”

“Hush.” There was a flash of lightning and the shadow of Cas’ wings appeared on the wall behind him. But – holy shit. They weren’t torn and bedraggled and broken like before. They were…

“Your wings – they’re – but how?” Dean spluttered as the shadows solidified. Holy shit. No longer were Cas’ feathers limp and a dull, lifeless black. No, they were healthy and shiny and glossy, silky smooth when they brushed against Dean’s arms and sent an electric shock arcing across his skin. “Oh my god –”

“God had nothing to do with this,” Cas said, watching Dean’s reaction with a small smile. “It was Jack. Back when we were confronting Dagon and he used me as a conduit to channel his power and destroy her. He…well, he restored my wings. I was just as surprised as you are.”

“Why didn’t you just flap around, then?” Dean said in a hushed voice, running his fingers along the feathers and causing Cas to shiver violently, feathers fluffing up. “You coulda come back here when you got back.”

“I still can’t fly. Not until Metatron’s spell is reversed, which won’t ever happen unless God decides to intervene. My wings may not have been burnt off, but I still don’t have my full grace back. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back from the spell he used to close the Gates of Heaven. But…it’s nice to have my wings restored, even if they’re mostly for display.”

Mouth still hanging open, Dean continued to stroke and pet Cas’ wings, nearly unable to comprehend the enormous difference between Cas’ old, broken wings and…these. He really did have Cas back. The reminder that Cas had died was a bucket of icy water over his head, and he made a small sound and sat up to frantically shrug his plaid shirt off. He needed to be naked, preferably yesterday. Even if they didn’t do anything, he had to feel Cas’ bare skin against his own, even if just to ground him in the fact that Cas was here and alive.

Five minutes later, Dean’s clothes had been deposited on the floor in a heap, Cas’ shoes and socks joining them, and they were making out frantically. Cas hadn’t even bothered to remove his slacks, so the material rubbed against Dean’s hardening dick every time Cas shifted, and the sensation plus the knowledge that Cas was back, he was here, not going anywhere were so utterly maddening that Dean was already struggling not to blow his load. The way Dean was slumped against the headboard, legs loosely framing Cas’ hips as they kissed and groaned and whimpered, was just further proof of how damn out of his mind Dean was now that he had Cas back.

Cas was back. Cas was back. Back, back, back, back.

His brain replayed that on a constant loop as he tightened the arm around Cas’ neck and gripped a fistful of Cas’ dark hair with his other hand, using the slick slide of skin and fluffy, ticklish locks to ground himself in the moment so he wouldn’t have to remember how it had felt when Cas had been stabbed, and he’d been dead, a corpse on the ground, and Dean had had to burn him –

“Dean,” Cas murmured against Dean’s lips when Dean made a small, strangled sound. “I’m here, Dean. Focus on now.” As though proving this point, he brushed his wings down Dean’s legs, the feathers zinging whatever inch of skin they touched, and Dean let out a tiny little sob.

“You were dead,” he said thickly against Cas’ mouth. “I lost you again.”

“And I’m here now,” Cas said. The sight of him on his knees between Dean’s legs, hands braced against the wall behind them, biceps bulging, made Dean tighten his grip on Cas’ hair and drag him back in for another sloppy, furious kiss.

ce cracked. “Want you, Cas. Need you.”

“You have me.” Cas kissed Dean on the lips, long and sweet. “You always have me.”

They rearranged themselves, Cas reclining against the pillows and Dean straddling his lap. Cas’ slacks had disappeared at some point during this process – probably zapped away by angel mojo, though Dean didn’t really care to spend a brain cell wondering about that. Not when Cas was wrapping him in arms and wings and kissing the oxygen out of his lungs, circling his hole with one finger and loosening it with warm bursts of grace. Dean shuddered violently at the sensation. There was something…both so pure and so dirty about Cas using his heavenly power to quicker prepare Dean for this kind of physical, earthly, completely unheavenly thing. Well. Not that it didn’t feel heavenly.

Dean didn’t last long once Cas was inside him. At any other time, he might have been embarrassed; maybe even cracked a self-deprecating joke about stamina and being a teenager again, while Cas just regarded him with amusement and no judgement whatsoever. But this wasn’t one of those times. Dean was already on a razor thin edge when Cas entered him, and Cas wasn’t in the mood for fast and dirty; instead, he thrust up slow and deep, hands gripping Dean’s hips, wings cocooning Dean in a silky black embrace.

“Cas –” Dean cupped Cas’ face, drawing him in for a frantic kiss, thighs trembling with how close he was as he met Cas halfway in thrusts. Cas found his prostate on the next thrust, sending heat jolting from Dean’s gut, and it took one – two – three more hits before the warmth in Dean’s belly overflowed and coursed through his body, while he buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and spasmed and grabbed handfuls of the angel’s hair.

He was oversensitive as he floated back down from his high, come smeared between his and Cas’ bellies, but he just couldn’t ask Cas to pull out. He had Cas back. Cas was inside him, and if Cas was inside him then he couldn’t be gone. Simple logic.

With a grunt and a gasped, “Dean!” Cas came, filling Dean with wet warmth as he gripped Dean’s hips so tight that he was certain to leave bruises. But that was good. Bruises were physical. Physical was grounding. And grounding meant that Dean could actually be happy. When Cas died, he’d taken Dean’s soul right with him, and he’d just given it back and fuck, Dean was definitely going to cry any second now, why was he so goddamn sappy?

Dean grimaced when Cas pulled out, both mournful of the loss and a little squicked out at the sticky stuff leaking down his thighs. But Cas easily cleaned them up, then flopped back on the bed and tucked Dean into his side, wings forming a protective blanket around him. Dean shivered and nuzzled into Cas’ neck as the feathers idly grazed across his skin, leaving tiny sparks of grace as they went. The grace in Cas’ wings reacting with the tiny bit of grace in Dean’s body from when Cas had raised him from perdition and rebuilt him. At least, that was according to Cas, and Dean didn’t even care if Cas was lying because that was sweetest fucking thing he’d ever heard. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.

“‘M glad you’re back,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ sweaty skin. Yeah right, didn’t sweat under any circumstances, his ass. More like didn’t sweat for anyone except Dean.

“I’m glad to be back,” Cas said, carding a hand through Dean’s hair. “Contrary to popular belief, being dead is really boring.”

Dean couldn’t help it. He snorted, then snickered, then chuckled, then burst into full-blown hysterics, burying his face in Cas’ shoulder to muffle his laughter. Cas’ chest rumbled underneath him as the angel laughed too, but Dean was so far gone it wasn’t funny. Blame the orgasm endorphins. Dean was always an emotional son of a bitch after sex.

“Don’t ever fuckin’ leave me again,” Dean said when his laughter had died down to the occasional hiccup. “Christ, Cas, I can’t live without you. I don’t mean that in some ‘I’m gonna bump myself off way’ – I literally feel dead when you’re gone. I wanted to die, but Billie wouldn’t let me.”

“Billie?”

“Oh yeah, she’s the new Death. I’ll tell ya later. You’re – shit, man, you’re so goddamn important to me and I – I freakin’ love you.”

Cas leaned down to kiss Dean, hidden in the curtain of feathers shielding them from the world. “I love you too.”

“You leave me again and I’m gonna handcuff you to me. You capiche? You’re sendin’ me into an early grave.”

“I capiche. And my apologies. I didn’t think you needed any help with dying early.”

Dean snorted loudly. “Smartass. Now shut the fuck up and lemme sleep. We still got that case tomorrow. And don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“Of course not,” Cas said, now running feathers and fingers down Dean’s back. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Good.”

Sure enough, when Dean groaned himself awake the next morning, Cas was right there, singing an Enochian song under his breath in his gravelly voice while running fingers along Dean’s scalp and twirling strands of hair around his fingers. Holy shit. Dean didn’t think he could love the guy any more than he did, but that moment absolutely smashed that assumption to pieces.

When Cas noticed that Dean was awake, a wide, soft smile spread across his face. “Good morning, Dean.”

Dean just grinned foolishly back and pressed a deep kiss to Cas’ lips, losing himself in Cas’ fingers and lips and wings and warm body and just Cas. This was heaven right here, and if Dean didn’t have other responsibilities and a brother he also loved and wanted to see, he’d stay right here and never get up. “Mornin’, Cas.”

[twowritingdisasters]

Take Me There (Take Me Home): Arthur

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Don’t catch me don’t catch me please don’t catch me--

Arthur darts in and out of the legs of his father’s employees, heart pounding with terror as he chances a glance over his shoulder. Maybe he shouldn’t have run from his tutors--I’m gonna get punished so badly later, they’re gonna hurt me, please don’t hurt me--but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle being stuck in that room, too scared to do anything but listen and try not to mess up, too scared to be anything but perfect. He dives into a cubicle as his math tutor’s voice echoes down the hall-- “Young Master Pendragon”, they say, as if he’s master of anything, and he tucks his legs to his chest with an involuntary whimper. He clutches the small notepad and pencil he managed to get against himself, pressing himself into a corner as he curls beneath a desk, shifting behind a chair to hide better. 

His tutor’s shoes clack on the impeccably clean floor, passing him by, and he stiffens, biting down hard on his palm to stifle another whimper of fear. Please don’t find me please please don’t find me please--! “Young Master Pendragon, if you don’t come out...” There’s a sigh, before they change tactics. “If you come out now, you won’t be in trouble, I promise.”

Liar, liarliarliar leave me alone I don’t wanna learn taxes and economics I wanna draw please... He bites down even harder to keep himself from making noise, fighting back a shudder as his teeth manage to break the skin. The sound of shoes on polished hardwood fades out, and he dares to close his eyes--only to open them as the sharp, clear sound of heels draws closer, terror washing over him anew. A woman, probably, and he watches a pair of sleek, elegant black heels pause in front of where he’s hiding next to someone he recognizes as one of Father’s assistants; his tongue starts to taste of iron, the icky tang familiar to him now, and he feels like crying. 

“What’s all the ruckus about?” The voice is unfamiliar, warm and soothing, like honey and sunshine and things he only gets if he’s very very good, very very obedient. There’s a scary edge to it, though, and he feels tears well up as he tucks his legs closer to his chest. 

“Ah, Ms. Ljon!” someone responds, their voice dripping false cheeriness. “So good to see you! Mr. Pendragon’s meeting with you won’t be hindered, I assure you.” He recognizes that voice, it’s one of his father’s aides, Miss Iolanthe--one of the nicer ones, who sometimes doesn’t tell Father when he’s been bad. Still, running from lessons and work is Really Really Bad and she’d have to report to Father and then he’d be locked up and hurt and thrown out and no one would ever love him and--

The choked whimper escapes him before he can stop it, and he clamps his hands over his mouth in horror, shaking. The first voice--Ms. Ljon?--doesn’t react, though, simply shifts her stance as the aide’s shoes shift toward the desk. “That’s not what I asked.” The scary edge is definitely there now. “I wanted to know why Uther’s right-hand man is parading through the halls calling for a ‘young master’, and why the fuck there’s a frightened child hiding underneath this table--and most importantly, why the hell no one seems phased by it.”

Arthur’s lip wobbles--this Ljon person is scary, and once she finds out how bad he’s been she’s gonna bring him to Father and Father would punish him in front of everyone again--and he bursts into silent tears, crying quietly. The aide stammers something, but Ljon must do something, because he sees her feet move and a noise like a wildcat’s snarl comes from her, and the aide tells her everything, just how bad he is, how many times he’s been punished, how willful and disobedient he is. His entire body shudders as she says helplessly, “I try to keep him safe as much as possible--but Mr. Pendragon’s other aides and the tutors he hires, they all believe the same stuff. It’s like they want to break him so they can mold him into the perfect heir, the stuff I’ve seen some of them do, it’s--”

“And this happens in front of his employees?” Horror chases away the scariness in Ms. Ljon’s voice. “They know, and they haven’t called--they haven’t done shit?”

“You think people haven’t tried?” The aide’s voice shakes as she speaks and Arthur trembles at it, trembles at the fury there. It might not be addressed toward him, but it’s still terrifying when grown-ups get mad. “Mr. Pendragon is highly respected and incredibly wealthy. People have tried to break contract, to involve the police, but he buys them off, them and the lawyers, and ruins the lives of anyone who tries to stop him. He could beat the poor thing in court and no one would say a word because of how powerful he is.”

“I want to see Uther.”

“Ms. Ljon--”

The growl that comes from the woman is petrifying, and Arthur sobs aloud as the aide, similarly frightened, spins on her heel and hurries off. A sigh follows, the woman slipping off her heels--and she sits, and he gets his first good look at her. Her eyes are bright gold, her hair sleek and black, a scarlet tattoo inscribed on her pale neck. Father said that only delinquents and hooligans got tattoos, but the aide had said that he wanted to meet with this lady, which means that he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care. He knows the light in her eyes--anger, rage, hurthurthurt--but her lips are curving into a gentle smile. “Hi, baby,” she whispers, and her voice doesn’t have that angry, frightening edge anymore. “My name’s Merlin.”

He stares at her, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he hiccups, before shaking his head, bringing his hands up to cover his eyes. “N-o-o-o-o...”

That angry light flashes in her eyes again--he can tell without even looking--but the honey-warm tones of her voice don’t change. “I’m not going to hurt you, darling, I promise. I’m just going to stay here with you until you feel a little better okay?” Despite himself, he peeks through his fingers at her. She’s still smiling gently, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him. She’s not yelling or hitting or pinching or grabbing, she’s just...watching.

He nods. Her smile widens a bit at that, soft and warm. “Can you tell me your name, darling?”

Name. He’s “Young Master Pendragon” to the tutors and aides, “Sir” to the workers, “brat” or “boy” or “Heir” to his father. He doesn’t want to be any of those, has wanted to be anything but those for so very long. All he wants to be... “A-Arthur,” he whispers, his voice trembling and making the words shake too. 

Her eyes soften, the light in them almost tender, and he lowers his hands slowly, sets his notebook down. Merlin’s eyes dart to it and she tilts her head at him. “Do you want to tell me what that’s for?”

If she finds out she’ll take it drawing is bad drawing is useless not allowed-- He shakes his head wildly, a soft “uh-uh” escaping him as he scrubs at his eyes. She makes a sympathetic noise, soft and warm. “Okay, baby, you don’t have to. Can I give you a hug?”

A...what? He’s been hugged, of course, but just for cameras, and it was always too tight and a little frightening. Merlin’s gaze is warm, though, and she’s not standing to try and make him quiet or forcing him to do anything, so he shifts a little closer. She pats the ground encouragingly, and bit by bit, Arthur finds himself inching close enough for her to reach. He lets her loop an arm around his shoulders, steadying him as he trembles violently before pulling him against her side. The warmth feels...good, and he huddles against her side, feeling safe for the first time in ages.

Then his father storms in and it all comes crashing down.

Father is a big man, with wide shoulders and sharp eyes that always seem like knives, piercing whatever he decides to turn his gaze upon. Terror washes up and over Arthur as his sharp eyes flick to him and then back. “What is the meaning of this, Merlin?” His voice is That Voice, low and pleasant like he always makes it right before he hurts him, and Arthur whimpers, pulling free of Merlin’s grasp. He inches back toward the safety of the desk, but Father’s gaze pins him in place and he shudders, bringing his hand toward his mouth subconsciously to bite down on his palm. Good boys don’t cry in front of their betters, after all, and bad ones get punished and Arthur doesn’t want to get punished again. 

Merlin stands, all slinky and graceful like a wildcat, and despite the fact that she’s shorter than Father, she seems bigger--the first person he’s met who doesn’t bow her head or move away from him. “I was hoping you could tell me, Uther.” Her voice is equally low and pleasant. “Miss Iolanthe was kind enough to inform me of your actions toward a six-year-old.” She began to circle him, her eyes drifting to Arthur’s own. 

“I am a believer in corporal punishment, yes, but I have never--”

“Shut. Up.” And Merlin halts in front of him, her teeth bared in a snarl. “Emotional manipulation, psychological manipulation, neglect, public humiliation, and enough physical punishments that he’d rather hurt himself than draw or write or do whatever it is he wants to do with that notebook. People treat their pets better than this, and here you are, abusing your own son freely in your own. Damn. Office.” He watches in awe as Father opens his mouth, only to be cut off by Merlin’s hand. “Don’t. As if that wasn’t enough, you’re teaching him how to manage a company at six fucking years old. Six. He doesn’t even have a decade’s worth of life on him yet and you’re pushing this shit like it’s the end of the fucking world if he doesn’t learn how to balance a checkbook, physically fucking abusing him if he messes up.”

Father’s eyes glint with rage, as they always do when he perceives a challenge. “It’s not abuse if will make him and the company stronger.”

At that, Merlin laughs, and Arthur stares at her in shock. “Stronger. Yeah, right--I’ve seen what abuse--and that’s exactly what it is, you delusional nutbag--can do to someone. I see the traces of physical abuse every day in my sons, verbal abuse in my daughter and child. And yes, they’re resilient and strong, but kids aren’t like swords. They don’t get stronger when you shove them through the fire, they burn, because they’re flesh and blood and too young to know that you’re a complete and utter FUCKWIT!”

Father snarls at her and he bites down harder, the iron tang of blood filling his mouth again as he shuffles backwards. “Even if all this was true--” It is, Arthur thinks, wants to say, but the pressure of that terrifying gaze is too much-- “you have no proof.”

“She has my testimony.” Miss Iolanthe’s voice trembles, but when Arthur whips around to look at her, her eyes are bright with anger. “I’ve watched you hurt that child since he could walk. No more.”

“No more,” one of the employees calls in agreement, another echoing the sentiment, and Arthur stares in blatant shock as nearly the entire floor starts chanting together, slowly and raggedly at first before speeding up. “No more no more no more no more--”

Father growls as Merlin lifts her chin, the light in her golden eyes smug. “What do you want, Ljon?”

“No more no more no more no more--”

“Don’t you get it, you imbecile?” He stares at her in awe as she steps closer, her eyes flashing. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what he wants.” Abruptly she turns, and he flinches back in surprise as she kneels in front of him, extending her hands. “I can get you out of here,” she tells him softly. “I can get you away from him--from them. Permanently.”

“Arthur, I forbid it!”

“No more no more no more no more--”

The look in her eyes is warm, hopeful, trusting, and he hesitantly takes her hand, flinching as Father roars in protest. Merlin smiles, warm and gentle and bright, bringing his attention away from the angry monster of a man behind her and back to those kind eyes. “What do you say, baby?”

“Don’t you dare,” Father hisses. “Arthur--”

But Arthur doesn’t want to be like Father and he doesn’t want to be strong and he just wants to feel better than this, so he nods. “Y-yes,” he chokes out, and she smiles, and--

A hand clenches around his arm, pulling him violently back, and his father’s voice hisses in his ear, something about how bad he’s been and how ungrateful he is, how dare he--and the painful grip suddenly vanishes with a shocked yell. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s screaming, wails of terror coming from his throat. In front of him, Merlin draws her fist back before shaking it out, teeth bared. “If you’d let him go, I would’ve let you sign over custody quietly and fairly,” she says, and her voice is back to low and pleasant. “But I’m glad you didn’t, because now I have an excuse to tear you to shreds.”

She picks him up despite his sobs, strokes the back of his head gently before kissing away the tears. “I’ll see you in court,” she purrs to Uther Pendragon, satisfaction dripping from her voice at the sight of the steadily-forming bruise on his face. 

The destruction of Uther Pendragon is a court spectacle talked about for months afterward. Merlin’s accusations revealed a host of corrupt dealings, harassment charges, bribes--nearly everything a person could think of when it came to the words “corrupt CEO”. Still, the Ljon family ignored it all as Uther’s world came crumbling down, their eyes fixed on the sweet violet-eyed boy with a sunbeam smile.

“Arthur, careful you don’t get crayon on the rug,” Merlin admonishes; her youngest son looks up at her and beams shyly, the picture he’s been steadily coloring balanced on a lap-desk in front of him. Already he looks healthier, happier, a new light in his eyes and a bouncy cheeriness to him that hadn’t been there before. Next to him, Meliodas gives her a thumbs-up, flipping through shows on Netflix before settling on Big Hero Six; the others had all taken to Arthur immediately, adoring the boy as much as she and Escanor did and doting on him utterly. He’s latched onto the rest of them as well, slotting into their family with the greatest of ease.

Arthur Ljon.

She likes the sound of that.

[floraljoonie]

Debut // Lim Changkyun (I.M)

Pairing: I.M (Monsta X) x Reader

Genre: Angst/Bits of Fluff (No. Mercy AU/Era)

Word Count: 2k+

Author’s Note: I watched No. Mercy recently and it killed me. I saw Monsta X live in Dallas. Rip. I’m dead inside.

You were awoken from your slumber when you heard knocking on the door to your apartment. It was the middle of the night and a storm was brewing outside, who could possibly need you right now?

You quietly walked over to the door, with your trusty baseball bat in hand in case it was some sort of maniac.

As you slowly cracked the door open you gasped. It wasn’t a maniac, but he certainly was crazy for coming here.

“Changkyun? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Starship?” You rambled while shuffling his cold, wet body into your house, dropping the bat on the floor behind you.

“I- I-” He stuttered, eyes shaking as he looked at you, and that’s when you noticed he wasn’t just shaking from the cold, but he was also in a fit of tears.

Your eyes widened even more, scanning over his face, not sure what was happening.

Questions could come later, he was shivering like crazy and your protective girlfriend instincts kicked in. You walked him to your bathroom, grabbing the large shirt and shorts that he had left here a while back. He always left them “in case of emergencies”, and I guess this situation kinda fell under that idea.

You grabbed a towel and rubbed his hair dry, brushed away the streams of tears that had rested on his cheeks, and got him to change out of his soaked clothes into the dry ones. All the while trying to calm him down, telling him that everything will be okay, that you’re here for him, anything to get him to calm down.

But the tears wouldn’t stop, he just covered his face and shook his head. You’ve never seen Changkyun look so… distraught. You’ve seen him cry a couple times, but nothing too serious. This was alarmingly different.

“Baby, please tell me what’s wrong… you’re scaring me.” You whispered, sitting the two of you on your bathroom floor. You took his head in your hands, peppering comforting kisses on his forehead and temple, even on the back of his hands that were still covering his face.

After a few minutes you decided to just let him cry, realizing that he might’ve just needed your comfort in the midst of a breakdown. You wrapped yourself around his large frame, cradling him as his head rested on your chest, gently rocking him back and forth. Brushing his hair with your fingers, rubbing his back and shoulders, humming softly, you did everything you could think of to help him relax.

While trying to coax your love from his distress, your mind wandered, thinking to what could have possibly happened to put him in this state. He left for training at a new company, Starship, and he was going to be apart of this trainee show. Something must have happened there. He couldn’t have been kicked out yet? He hadn’t been there a whole day!

The heavy sobs slowly started to turn into soft whimpers and sniffs. You sighed in relief, happy to see him relax after the past 20-30 minutes of weeping. Softly, you brought your hands up to move his off of his face. He let you, and as they fell in his lap you tangled your fingers with his. He wouldn’t look you in the eye, he just looked towards the ground.

This was the first clear look you got of his face. His eyes were red and had circles around them, cheeks pink from the tears, mouth downturned. He looked so rejected.

“They… hate me.” Changkyun sniffed, looking down at your hands with his.

“Who does baby? Starship?” you questioned, speaking softly as if he would crack if you spoke any louder.

“No…the trainees,” you tilted your head a little in confusion,

“The company brought me on the show right after their friend was eliminated. The trainees didn’t know I was coming either, it was a surprise and they-” he spoke, choking a little at the end.

“They didn’t like that you were practically replacing their friend,” you confirmed, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand, soothing him a little.

He nodded, “They all looked at me like I was...  an enemy. One of them, uh, Kihyun, told me what had happened. I was just as shocked as they were,” he shook his head, “The trainees… they’ve been through alot together. And then this new guy just comes in and wants to steal a spot from one of them? I would hate myself too,” he sniffled.

“Did any of them talk to you? Like try to get to know you or anything?” you questioned, finding yourself angry at the horrible trainees, but trying to hide it from Changkyun. You could understand why they would be upset at the company, but they shouldn’t be mad at Changkyun, he did nothing wrong.

“Not really, they’re all so mad. There were a few that tried to talk but... well… it wasn’t working.”

He brushed a stray tear from his cheek, taking a shaky breath,

“They were all sitting in one of the dorm rooms, and I wasn’t sure if I should go in… so I stood by the door. And they were all talking about me… and saying how upset they were… and I just didn’t know what to do,” he mumbled the last bit. You were about to say something but he continued.

“One of them told me to go in and sit with everyone, so I did. But over time they just all left. As if my presence was toxic or something,” he threw his head back in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut, you watched him, not sure of how to comfort him in this instance. You rubbed one of his shoulders helping him physically relax.

“How did you get here? I thought you couldn’t leave,” you whispered.

“... I snuck out. I couldn’t breathe in there. I was being suffocated by their anger.” He looked up at the ceiling, you saw the pain in his eyes as they glossed over.

“I had to see you.”

This was when he finally turned his head and looked at you, right in your eyes. Your heart fluttered, feeling proud that he would turn to you first out of all of those he loved. There was also a pang of nervousness because now you had to find the right words to say.

You caressed his cheek and gave him a chaste kiss. But you didn’t let it last long, you knew you had to set him straight. This was too important for him to leave at the first sign of difficulty.

“Listen to me, okay?” You took his hands in yours again.

He nodded.

“You are going to debut. With Starship. You are going to be the next big thing in K-Pop. You are going to share the amazing music you’ve made, while performing your heart out again and again. Like you’ve always dreamed. Understood?” You spoke seriously.

The corner of his mouth smiled a little, so you continued.

“So what, the guys are being dicks now,” he laughed slightly at that, “but they’ll get over it once they get to know you. Have they even heard you rap?”

“Well, uh, they’ve barely heard me talk…” He mumbled, playing with your fingers in his hands.

“Well for fuck’s sake, bust in there and show ‘em what you’re made of! You’re I. Fucking. M.”

You yelled slightly, which just made him look up at you with a bright smile that reached his eyes.

You tilted your head at him and smiled back, softening yourself a little bit. “Just talk to them, okay? Even if it’s not the most pleasant, or deep conversation. They all have the same dream as you. And they’ll grow to like you, alright?”

He nodded, squeezing your hands a little.

“Our next mission is a group one, where we work with idols... “ he said, and you cut him off before he could continue.

“Perfect! Make an impression, show them that you mean business and that you have just as much potential as the rest of them.”

He nodded, smiling down at you. “Baby… what would I do without you…” He spoke deeply, still playing with your hands.

“Probably get hypothermia from standing in the rain. You couldn’t grab an umbrella?” you joked. He laughed and pulled you into a tight hug, squeezing you before letting your bodies snuggle together comfortably.

You sat there for a while longer, just letting him breathe and relax.

“I have a mission for you.” You chirped.

“Hm?” He looked down at you with big eyes.

“Tomorrow. Talk. To anyone. Serious or not. Just get yourself out there.”

He nodded, and you could tell he was trying to figure out who, so you made it easy for him. “Another rapper, one that you think you could get along with.”

“You’re right.” He chuckled.

“I know, now let’s get you back to the dorms, okay?” Of course you wanted him to stay here with you for tonight, but you had to get used to the bit of separation.

He pouted and kissed the top of your head, “I have never missed you more than I did today.”

You gave him a slow, tender kiss, full of love and compassion. Man, were you going to miss having him around.

[a few months later]

Changkyun’s manager allowed you to watch the final selection for No.Mercy, and you were extremely grateful. You had complete faith that he would be chosen, and you wanted to be there when it happened. You watched backstage as other members got chosen: Jooheon, Shownu, Kihyun, Hyungwon, Wonho. Two spots remained.

“C’mon baby…” you said to yourself as your nerves started to kick in.

In a blur, (you nearly blacked out from sudden excitement) Changkyun was standing on one of the pedestals, he made it.

You jumped up and down and tried to contain your excitement, but you were just so proud and happy for him. He went from a mess on your bathroom floor, feeling worthless, to a trainee about to debut!

The rest of the show went on in another blur, some of the trainees were crying for different reasons. But the second the camera’s stopped rolling you ran out there, as Changkyun ran to you. He swiftly picked you up in a tight hug, repeatedly saying “thank you” into your neck as he spun you around.

“I’m so proud of you baby,” you spoke into his ear.

After what seemed like an eternity in his arms he set you down. You smiled up at him, as he smiled down at you.

Jooheon approached the two of you. Wordlessly, he pulled Changkyun into a tight hug, showing that he was happy that he made the team with him. You smiled at the two of them, glad to see that he had made a friend.

“Hey, he’s mine,” you poked at Jooheon, and they both chuckled at you. The air in the room was a little somber, it was an emotional night.

You spoke up again, this time the whole group was watching and listening to you, “Seriously though, please take care of him,” you rustled Changkyun’s hair as he blushed a little,  “I know he’s new to Starship, but he’s your maknae now. That means you must love and protect and support him. Just like he will with you guys,” you spoke all while looking at your man lovingly.

You snapped your head to the direction of the rest of his team and smiled brightly, “Got it?”

They all nodded with smiles stretching across their faces. You knew this was going to be a good group of guys, they all seemed very sweet and caring. Perfect for your Changkyun.