#woke up at 2 in the morning and had this dire need to write something cliche and fluffy apparently

[imaredshirt]

Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.

Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.

"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.

Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."

Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.

Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"

Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"

"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.

He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.

"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."

Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."

"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"

Fidds nods. "Sure do!"

"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."

Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"

"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"

The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"

This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.

"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."

"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.

"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"

Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"

"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.

He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.

"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"

"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"

"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"

Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.

"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"

"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.

Instead he riles him up.

"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"

Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."

"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"

Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"

"You're gonna defend us?"

"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"

"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"

"What!? No!"

"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"

The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.

"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."

Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."

"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.

"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.

Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"

"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"

The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.

Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.

He can't wait to teach him wrestling.

[gaiaseyes451]

New WIP Tag Game!

thank you @malachitegrey !

Give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you love [fiction, non-fiction, from different works or the same, from completed stories or poems or WIPs, from yesterday or ten years ago]. If that seems hard, even one will do. It doesn't have to be perfect. It can just be something silly that gives you joy.

And give me three lines/paragraphs that you've written that you dislike and find shitty. Anything at all as long as you wrote it. If you think it's ridiculous or absolute fucking garbage, even better! That's the point of this game. To see that we all write good things and bad things. Yeah? You can do this. And remember that both these categories are subjective.

Ok, let's start with the ones I don't love. These aren't polished, they haven't come out right yet (2 WIPs and bloody hard to pick without giving major spoilers):

When the alarm buzzed at 10 a.m. on 25-May Ezra was already awake; thankfully Anthony had awoken naturally a bit before the alarm. That boded well for the day, it was always easier when Anthony woke of his own volition and today would be challenging enough. The hope was to keep their routine at home as consistent today as possible until they had to get ready for Adam’s wedding. It was one of the reasons Evelyn had suggested setting the ceremony for 3 p.m., an unhurried morning for Anthony to give him the best possible opportunity to be able to attend and enjoy the wedding. They would miss getting ready at the hotel with Adam and the rest of the wedding party, they would miss the photographs before the ceremony and getting to spend the last few hours with their son before he embarked on married life, they would miss the last chance to give fatherly advice.

“Get out of there! I don’t need you mixing things up. If you can’t keep track of your own things I’d thank you stay out of my personal effects!” He shoos Anthony away from his desk as his phone in his trousers rings. He checks the name on the screen - Tracy - probably looking for Anthony.

Heaven largely didn’t concern itself with Hell’s organogram, but Aziraphale knew even Hell followed the idea that the punishment must fit the crime. A demon found to intentionally have aided and abetted in Good would be severely reprimanded. Crowley’s role in saving Elspeth’s life must have had dire consequences. What did they do to you? He wanted to demand an answer, to know what his role had been in this change in his companion’s countenance. But he remembered the withering glare, the venom in Crowley’s voice earlier in the evening. Careful. Don’t push, don’t demand. Careful.

The ones I do love (3 different WIPs):

It was the sorrow that overwhelmed Aziraphale, that drew the air from his lungs and forced his eyes open. He had felt others’ sorrow many times before, he knew the way it spread like oil over water, leaving a film on everything it touched. The surge and swell before it receded again to the edges of consciousness, not always demanding attention but omnipresent nonetheless. That was not this sorrow. This wasn’t an insidious oil slowly coating every surface. It was an inferno consuming every molecule of oxygen, stoked by every breath taken in vain attempts to smother it. It was keen and blinding and new and it needed to be contained before it reduced everything else to smoke and ash.

“’Magine my surprise, seeing a streak of black and red flash past my office door. No ‘hi Tracy’, no stopping by to complain like you usually would on a Friday, not even frustrated mutterings!” She affects an air of obviously feigned concern. “I’da been worried ‘bout ya if I weren’t so stunned by the peaches ‘n’ cream flash that wasn’t two steps behind ya.”

[This is technically in verse, formatting be damned] He is my after life and my liturgy. I seek not Heaven nor Hell. Valhalla nor the Elysian Fields. I worship him alone and he sanctifies me. He exalts in me as I debauch him. I am his salvation and he my damnation. Together we are Balance. Look away, heavenly hosts, for you cast him aside as wicked. Look away, legions of Hell, you sought to destroy him as righteous. You shall never know a love such as ours.

@hakunahistata, @kotias, @paperclipninja, @the-literal-kj and anyone else who wants to, come play!

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan - Chapter 6/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 6: A Few Stolen Moments

Emma woke with an excitement she had never felt before. Sure, she was excited to go home, she would get to see her parents again, but more than anything, she would be traveling with Killian. She hadn’t stopped thinking of him since he left her room the evening before. She knew it was wrong, she couldn’t act on her feelings, but she enjoyed having them all the same.

Liam would be departing for Locksley this morning, leaving her alone with Killian, and of course, Ruby, obviously she would not get to spend the entire trip alone, but something stirred in her chest every time she thought of having him across from her in the carriage.

Nothing would change her situation; she was to marry Prince Liam. But there was nothing that said she was bound to him right now.

The moment she met him at the carriage, her body almost hummed in response to his touch. It was nothing scandalous, a simple hand at her back as he helped her into the carriage, but the reaction was immediate.

“M’lady.” He sang as she entered the carriage.

“Thank you.” She said with a smile, meant only for him.

What was she doing? Overnight she had turned into some brazen whore who could only think of tearing the brother of her future husband’s clothes from his body to find out exactly what kind of desires he could take care of for her.

She had never behaved so abhorrently before, she had always been a good girl, abiding by her father’s wishes, never laying with a man alone, barely even letting the first boy she liked to kiss her. She intended to save herself for the man she fell in love with, the man she would marry. Only now, those may be two different men.

She sat on her bench, watching the man in front of her as her tongue traced across her lips, her thighs squeezed tightly together. To her annoyance, he was not making eye contact with her, staring instead at the book in front of him as he wrote frantically on the pages, frustrating her every sense that he wouldn’t instead drink her in, allowing her to know his thoughts.

Had he changed his mind overnight, realizing the situation they were in and abandoning his quest to have her in his arms? Had he abandoned desire for responsibility?

For a moment he looked up, his blue eyes capturing hers for a single second, the skip in her heart causing her to sigh out loud. “Is everything alright?” Ruby asked beside her.

“It’s a bit warm in here, don’t you think?” She asked fanning herself as she watched Killian settle further back in his seat.

“Not warmer than usual, are you sure you aren’t coming down ill?” Ruby asked with concern. “Does she look pale to you?” She asked Killian who gave her nary a glance before responding.

“She looks fine to me.”

Frustration filled her stomach, a sense of dread consuming her thoughts. She would not see him for a fortnight, and he had spent the entire trip writing a monologue. When the carriage came to a stop in front of the welcoming sight of the Misthaven walls, Emma tried to feel elated to be home, but instead she only felt rejected and alone.

Killian jumped from the carriage, escorting Ruby down the stairs before turning his attention toward her. He reached out and took her hand, his eyes finally meeting hers. “It was a pleasure to escort you home, M’Lady.” He bent his head, pressing his lips to her hand, looking up and locking eyes with hers.

“I shall leave our guide, Sir William Scarlet with you, until my brother’s return.” The man approached them from the front of the carriage. “He will ensure you are safe until Liam is able to visit.”

Emma stared at the man in confusion, they had not mentioned leaving anyone with them.

He bent his head, his eyes remaining on hers before leaning toward her ear. “Not a single moment.” He whispered, pressing something into her hand as it lay by her side. She glanced down to see paper folded in her palm. She returning her gaze to his before he shut the carriage door and began his journey to Lockley.

Emma pressed the paper against her side, turning toward the castle to greet her approaching parents.

“Emma, thank God you are home, we got word of the attack on your journey to Jonesboro and were worried sick.” Her mother wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m alright mother, they took good care of me.”

“We have food prepared, are you hungry?” Her father asked, examining her from all angles.

“Mostly tired from the journey, I’d like to retire if that’s alright.”

“Of course, we can catch up in the morning.” Her mother said softly, and Emma sprang toward her room, her heart pounding as she closed the heavy wooden door behind her. She hurried to her night table, lighting the candle that sat on top of it and opening the pages Killian had given her. Her eyes grazed over the delicate scroll of his handwriting, eager to read the words.

My Dearest Emma,

I have not stopped thinking of you since I held you in my arms last night. Every part of me craves to be with you, to devour you. Not as a conquest, but as the owner of my heart.

I can barely sit across from you in this carriage without wanting to take you in my arms, to kiss you with every ounce of desire I have in my being. I do not trust myself to look at you for even a second without alerting Ruby to my affections.

I do not know how my heart can be without you for even one day much less the many nights and sun rises I must brave without your face. I know you belong to my brother, but if you’ll have me, if even for a few stolen moments, I am yours.

I am leaving my trusted friend, Will Scarlet behind with you, he knows where to find me in case you wish to write back. If you don’t, I will understand.

Just know that I am thinking of you, always.

Yours,

Killian

Emma could not contain her emotions as she read the letter over and over again, carrying it to her bed as she fell back into the expanse of the fabric and pillows.

The owner of his heart, she thought.

It was undeniable, she was falling for Killian Jones. There was no stopping the desire of wanting him, and she was irrevocably destined to break his own heart once she married his brother, but there was no denying him until that day happened.

She tore through her drawers to find a piece of parchment at the bottom of her things, she didn’t know what she wanted to say, only that she needed to tell him she felt the same way.

Killian, my love,

I assumed that your silence on the ride home meant that you had changed your mind, my heart soared with joy when reading your letter to know that you felt as I do.

I must marry Liam, our Kingdom’s futures depend on it, but I cannot deny the feelings I have for you or the way you make my body sing when you are near. I have wanted no other man until you. A fact that seems almost cruel considering our current situation.

I have never been with another, I have remained pure for my future husband, but how can I give myself to him when all I want is you? In every way imaginable, I am yours.

I fear I will go crazy waiting for you to return knowing that it will be with the man I am to marry. I wish for so many reasons that our situation were different, but alas I am cursed with obeying my father’s wishes for the sake of our people.

If all we have are stolen moments, then I wait for you like a thief in the night.

Yours eternally,

Emma

Emma folded the letter, burning the wax to seal it closed.

“Are you writing to the Prince?”

Emma jumped in her seat as Ruby approached her. “Yes, that is the purpose of Will, so that we are able to converse during this time apart.” She said, knowing that she was lying. But she never did say which Prince she was writing to. A simple misdirect.

“Well, I think that’s sweet, have you changed your mind about the wedding? Perhaps this isn’t as dire of a situation as you feared?”

“I think that this letter explains exactly how I feel, conflicted, excited, full of woe, and yet perhaps something else.”

“What?”

“Perhaps the beginning of love.” She smiled brightly.

“Oh Emma, I’m so happy for you.”

Emma sighed, knowing that the happiness her friend had for her was misplaced but genuine.

She sought out Will Scarlett the following morning.

“I don’t know how this works.” She said nervously as she approached him.

“Oi, either you have something for me, or you don’t. If you do, I’ll return it to him with great haste, if not, I shall remain at your side until he returns.” He paused and then smirked. “Broken heart an’ all.” He laughed.

She smiled, handing the letter to him. “I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a broken heart, now would I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll be breaking his heart anyway. But he seems intent on letting you do it so ‘ere we are.” He took the letter from her hand, placing it into his pocket. “I shall return soon. I’m a fast rider and Locksley is not far from here.”

“Then I eagerly await your return.” She said with a grin.

And thus began their routine, as Emma waited for Will to return every other day, a letter in hand which she read immediately upon her return to the safety of her room.

My Dearest Emma,

I was beyond overjoyed to receive your reply. You have no idea how much I agonized over how you would react to my letter. Knowing how you feel makes my heart soar.

Though I do take pause at your admission. I cannot bear to think that you will give yourself to Liam. Not when you belong to me. My brother has been afforded so many things that I have wanted, but you are unmatched in my want and desire.

I count the days until I can return to you, to see your beautiful face, my body aches to touch you, to feel you beneath my skin. Without you, the sunlight pales, the scent of flowers dim, but my need for you grows as the swell of the ocean crashes against the shore.

I crave you, Emma, like a man in the desert craves water. I need you, like I need air to breathe, I want you, like nothing I have wanted more in my life.

Yours,

Killian

When she received the letter from William she nearly cried in anticipation until she was able to read it after dinner. She cried tears of joy and longing, as well as sadness from the situation. She had waited so long for a man to say the words that Killian had written and yet she was destined to another.

Life was truly unfair.

~*~

Killian worked hard to repair the damage Regina’s minions had done to the town of Locksley. The village had been razed to the ground, nary a cottage surviving that was livable. At night he read the letters from Emma. Wanting the time to speed up so that he could be nearer to her.

He tried to speak to Liam about Emma, wanting to know how his brother felt toward the woman who held his heart without rousing suspicion.

“Why are you asking me all these questions little brother?”

“You do know that I’m only two years younger than you? That does not make me little, just younger.” He corrected. “And I am still older than your bride to be.”

“If I did not know any better, I would say you are jealous.” He teased and Killian felt his mouth go dry.

“I’m…I’m not…” he tried to cover his tracks, to deny his feelings for his brothers betrothed.

“I know that you wish that you could be King, but one day you will find your place in all of this.”

Killian breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course.” It was William approaching on the road to the South that caught his attention. “I do live to serve.” He said with a bow, excusing himself to meet with the man dismounting his horse.

“What news do you bring?” He asked excitedly as the man pulled the letter from his bag.

“She misses you and cannot wait for your return.” He said, his words causing his heart to soar. “Are you not concerned that this will not turn out well for you?” He asked.

“I do not care; she is all I think about.” He said absentmindedly, staring at the letter in his hands.

“I shall feed the horse and return before dawn.” He excused himself, walking the horse toward the well.

Killian rushed to the cottage where he was staying, tearing the seal on the parchment, and sniffing the paper before he opened it to read.

Killian, my love,

I feel that I shall be burned at the stake if anyone could hear my thoughts. You occupy every space of every moment of my day. I need to see you, I feel like the moment I lay eyes on you, I will know the truth of my heart.

I do not want to give myself to Liam, for every part of my body and soul belong to you. I await your return with a renewed excitement. While I do not know what my future holds, I know how much I want to share this moment with you, even if it is wrong.

My ears long for your voice, to hear the words I have wished you to speak since we parted. Even if they break my heart.

Yours eternally,

Emma

Killian raced to find Will as he watered his horse. “Do you have something for me?” He asked as he approached.

“No, I’ll deliver my sentiments in person. Let her know that we return in two days’ time.”

“Aye. I will relay your message, but my hope is that you protect your heart.”

“I cannot protect something I do not possess, for it is in her hands.”

“Oi, you really are in love with your brother’s wife.” He joked and Killian knew it to be true. He had never loved a woman the way he did Emma.

“She’s not his wife yet.” He reminded.

“She will be soon. Your father sent word that the wedding it to take place once Liam returns to bring Emma home.”

Killian’s heart sank, he knew things were moving quickly but suddenly the excitement of returning home brought with him the realization that it would be short lived. Soon she would be his sister-in-law, and he would have to decide whether to commit treason or live his life without her.

He didn’t know how to surrender her to Liam, not when he had already surrendered his heart to her himself.

~*~

Emma sat stoically at the end of the table as her father and mother talked about the wedding plans while they ate their food. Based on the length of time it took William to arrive and announce that Liam would be returning she was sure that they would be arriving any day now.

As if they had read her mind, her father was summoned to the gates to welcome the arrival of Prince Liam. Emma paced nervously in the dining hall, awaiting the two of them to enter the room. Her mother watched her from the table.

“Emma, I’ve never seen you like this before, are you quite alright dear?”

She turned anxiously toward her mother, “I suppose I am slightly nervous, mother.” Her mother stood and smiled.

“So, you do like the Prince?” She asked with hope in her eyes.

“The Prince is very kind and noble, I expect that he will be an honorable husband. Living in Jonesboro will be very exciting.” Emma felt the guilt at the back of her mind as she spoke, indecent thoughts of torrid trysts with Killian swam through her thoughts. Emma knew the truth though, she knew the moment she married Liam, any thought of Killian would need to be banished from her mind. Living near him when she couldn’t have him in the way her heart ached to possess, would be misery.

“I’m so happy, Emma. You will see, you and Liam will be able to form a friendship and perhaps it will grow into something more. I know it is not what you wished for yourself, but I hope you can find a way to embrace it as a possibility.”

Emma smiled half-heartedly; her lips turned up partially. “Of course, mother.”

The heavy doors breached open, and Emma’s heart stopped when the men appeared. Her father and Liam had entered first, talking excitedly about his journey, but Emma could only see Killian, entering anxiously from the back, his eyes darting around the room until they found hers.

Emma could barely contain herself being this close to him without being able to speak freely. Liam explained that they had assisted Robin Locksley with rebuilding much of the town, those that could return safely had left Jonesboro to return to the small village, helping to restore order to their peaceful town. Jonesboro had left guards behind to help protect the village, but Regina’s forces had been seen amassing in the forest.

The wedding would need to take place urgently in order for the Kingdom’s to bring their people together to show a strength of force that was strong enough to deter the soldiers from advancing further.

It was decided that Emma and her family would travel to Jonesboro in the morning to prepare for the wedding. Henry had groaned when learning that he would need to travel with the family, her brother had never been one to enjoy the formality of being royal. He had no interest in following in his father’s footsteps, no interest in succeeding to the throne. Henry was only 12, he wanted nothing more than to be a child. He was creative, passive, and Emma knew that he would eventually have to lose all of that to rule.

Emma could feel Killian’s eyes on hers the moment the King arranged the travel. Things were progressing faster than either of them anticipated.

His desperate pleas through silent glances were driving her mad. She needed to speak to him urgently, if only to hear his voice, feel his arms around her, making her forget that she was about to give it all away, to lose everything she had sought and finally found.

“I’m happy to see that you have healed.” Killian said softly, bowing to take her hand in his, placing a kiss to the top of her hand. “You look well.”

Emma could feel her heart racing, trying not to appear overzealous in her response to the Prince as her brother looked on. “Thank you, I have found that even riding no longer hurts.” She said with a smile. “I go riding most evenings, as the sun begins to set.” She added softly. “In case anyone is interested in finding me tonight.” She bowed her head and stepped away from him, urging herself not to look back over her shoulder as she approached her betrothed.

“I am feeling most tired this evening. I shall get some rest before the journey tomorrow.” She announced. “Goodnight.”

Liam smiled. “You will need your sleep if you are to rise before the sun, M’Lady. Though I doubt we will be able to rouse Killian before the sun is high in the east so there may be no need to rush.”

“I shall do my best.” She grinned and tried to slow her steps as she raced toward her room. “I am taking my leave now, Ruby. I will see you in the morning.” She announced to her maid as she entered the room.

“You do not require my assistance tonight?”

“I’m sure you need to pack, I can assist myself, I assure you.” She said with a smile, removing her gown.

“Then I will see you in the morning.” She retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.

Emma changed quickly into her darkest riding frock, pulling the cape over her head as she slipped quietly from her room, peering in both directions through the halls. She crept down the stairs, exiting into the kitchen.

“Oi, you shouldn’t sneak up on a man like that.”

Emma jumped, holding her hand to her mouth as she looked at the man standing at the table, his mouth full of food. “William.”

“Aye, you bloody scared me, Princess. What are you doing out at this hour, sneaking about the castle?”

She rushed toward him. “I do not know what you speak of, I am merely here to collect some grapes in order to drift off to sleep with a full stomach.” She reached for a handful of grapes, stuffing them into her mouth and walking backwards toward the outer door. “You never saw me.”

“Saw who, M’Lady?” He shrugged, sinking his teeth into the sandwich he had built.

Emma escaped down the path toward the stables, closing the wooden door behind her as she saddled her horse, mounting the steed, and speeding off into the woods.

When she got to the clearing she dismounted and paced nervously beside her horse. Moments later she heard the hoofs of an approaching rider, peering into the shadows until Killian came into view. He was off his horse and in her arms in a few sweeping steps.

His lips bruised hers, soft yet firm as he wrapped her in his embrace. The kiss was desperate yet full of emotion, pouring all the feeling into the moment that they had been writing about for weeks. When they finally parted, her hair wild from the grasp of his fingers, she panted against his chest. “I thought we would have more time.” She cried.

“We have all the time in the world, love.” He spoke into her hair.

“Do not speak of things you know not to be true. I’m to be married in a few days’ time.”

“How can you marry him when your heart belongs to another?”

“Killian, affairs of the heart matter not in the face of annihilation.”

He pulled back, staring down into her eyes. “Do you love me?”

“Please do not ask me that.” She protested.

“Run away with me. Run away with me and we can be together.”

Emma pushed him away from her. “How can you ask me that?” She yelled. “How could you do that to your people? Without this union, they will surely die.”

“I cannot bear to be parted from you. To have you near me in the castle with every passing day as you lie in my brother’s bed. I will not survive that torment.” He said with a growl. “I would rather die than imagine you in another’s arms for even a single second.”

“Do not say such vial things.” She sprung froward, placing her hands on his cheeks. “Without you there, I will be in misery. Knowing that you will be with me, regardless of our situation, is the only reason I have even an ounce of courage to go through with this.” She placed her lips on his cheek. “Do not abandon me.”

“You do love me?” He questioned.

“With every beat of my heart and each breath of air that I take. I love you without remorse, as if the sun would surely not rise if I could not admit it even into the depth of my soul. I will love you until I cease to exist, Killian Jones.”

“Emma.” He panted, pulling her against him, his lips crashing against hers in a fury she had not experienced in her lifetime. “I love you.” He breathed against her neck, the heat of his mouth causing her skin to pebble and her knees to weaken beneath her.

“Then take me and I will always be yours.” She moaned against his ear, feeling his hesitation as he stilled his movements.

“You belong to my brother, I could not…”

“I belong to you, Killian Jones. Always.”

Without pause, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the center of the meadow, he placed her on her feet, removing his cloak and laying it out on the ground below them. He glanced nervously toward her, stepping closer as his hand gently brushed against her jaw. “I do love you Emma Nolan. Know that I will always be by your side, I will never abandon you.”

She felt the tears sting her eyes as he kissed her forehead, his fingers toying with the string of her cloak as he pushed the garment to the ground beside them. She was lost in a sea of blue eyes that beheld a man that she trusted more than anyone in the world. She felt the nervous jitters in her stomach, the anticipation of what was to come, knowing that she wouldn’t change this night for any in all the realms.

Without taking his eyes off her, he pulled the cloth over her head, the cool breeze dancing on her bare skin. His jaw was set firm, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, glancing at her in the moonlight as she pushed her pants toward the grass below them, standing naked in front of him.

Before meeting Killian Jones, she had never stood naked in front of a man in her entire life. She had only known him a short while and she had already presented to him twice now. The first he had stared at her hungrily from his place in the lake, but tonight, she felt as if he was memorizing her body, an appreciation of her that made her feel as if he thought she hung the very moon in the sky above them.

She had seen him naked before, the night in the lake she had been so stunned by his sudden action that she barely had time to register that he was suddenly naked and entering the water. But now, as he removed his clothing, standing bare in front of her, she found herself admiring the man in front of her. His body taut, the hair that grew along his chest that she followed lower, below the hip line until she found herself gulping at the sheer size of him.

Before she could allow the panic to set in, the knowledge of what was about to happen, he gathered her into his arms, lowering her down to the ground as he held the back of her head with his hand. His blunted arm holding himself off the ground. Looking into his eyes she knew she wanted nothing more than to experience this with him, to share this bond that no other man could ever take from them.

When his lips touched hers, his hand slipping to her breast, all other rational thought extinguished and all she could feel was the desire that had built between them. She clung to him, her hand shaking, her body shivering as he entered her for the first time, the shock of pain causing her to cry out. His attack on her neck stilled, his eyes anxiously seeking hers. “Are you alright, love. Does it hurt?”

She shook her head, unable to put into words how she was feeling. “Please,” was the only word that would leave her mouth as she urged him forward, pulling his mouth to hers in order to put out the fire between her legs. As he began to move above her, the pain subsiding and replaced with a sense of wonder and enlightenment, she cried out, their bodies drenched in sweat, his mouth on hers, moving together in a rhythm that increased steadily with each moan and silent plea. When her head fell backward against the grass, an unfamiliar feeling building in her stomach, she saw stars explode behind her eye lids, the throaty moan in her ear causing her body to clinch around him as he bruised her hips until his body stilled above her. He slumped against her as they lay in the tall grass, breathless panting the only sound she could hear around her until she felt his hand in her hair, his lips press softly against her forehead.

“You are my forever.” He whispered, pushing the strands from her face. “I will not lie with another woman for as long as I shall live.”

She stared at him. “Killian, no. I cannot ask that of you.”

“You did not ask.” He said with a small smile.

She sat up, staring down at him, her fingers playing mindlessly with the hairs on his chest. “This is not fair.” She said as a tear slipped from her eye.

“Aye, that it is not, but this is our duty, remember.” He said sadly, reaching up to wipe the offending drop from her cheek.

“It is our duty.” She repeated sadly, lying next to him, and closing her eyes, wishing more than anything to never wake up from this dream.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Pact - Part 6

Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

Gothic AU

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

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

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

WC: 5K

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

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Crowley’s Daughter!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean? Is he okay? Is he… dead?”

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

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

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

“What? No hello for your big brother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tread easy boy...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, it seems insane.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” Sam 

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

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

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

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

“Magic? Like… magic, magic?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So why the push towards family planning?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dean… dad would never, what?”

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

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

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

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

Sam Winchester:  @buckyscrystalqueen / @unabashedsoul97

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

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

[friendlylocalwriter]

Chapter 2 of The Quiet Stranger

Pairing(s): Geralt of Rivia x fem!reader

Warnings: None

Requested: No

Prompt: You live a quiet life in the forest with your mother after the fall of Cintra, selling grains and produce to keep enough coins for survival. When your mother leaves for a long journey to the market, you're surprised to meet a white-haired stranger in dire need of help, and even more surprised by how you feel about him.

Word Count: 2916

Chapter: 2/?

Previous Chapters : Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys! I had so much fun writing this chapter, and I’ve already started planning the next one which’ll be much longer and spicier ;) I have a Superman request that I will hopefully be filling next week, and I want to write a Mando fic while we get tortured wait for the s2 trailer to release! As always, reblog + comments are so welcome, and this is posted on my AO3 @/violettaren. Love you guys <33

Geralt slept for the entire day and through the night. 

You weren’t surprised, though. You assume that whatever fight he had gotten into, which he seems intent on not telling you about, must’ve been intense if they were able to get that good of a gash on him. So you let him rest. And, you weren’t averse to stealing a few glances of his bare chest rising while he slept on your cot. You spent the first day of his arrival tending to the garden and trying to ignore how your mother would feel about you housing a stranger in your shack. The guilt only increased when you slept on your mother’s cot, tossing and turning in your sleep as you remember all your mother told you about not letting anyone in. 

You woke up the next morning before him, and rushed to change out of your nightgown. You chose a linen white skirt that hit just above the knee and a long sleeve off the shoulder black sweater that was a bit too thin for the humid Spring weather, but you’d make do. As you take your hair out of your ponytail and attempt to tame it, you wonder why you’re putting so much effort into your appearance, since he’ll be gone tonight anyway. As you pass by his sleeping body, your eyes focus on the gray pendant around his neck and creep forward to try and get a better view. 

A wolf. Interesting.  

You jump when he shifts slightly and immediately move away, not looking to be caught in such a compromising position. As you clean through the cot, you try and rack your brain to see if you remember ever seeing that necklace when you were in Cintra. But, like most things, you simply cannot recall much of anything from your childhood. 

Maybe it’s in the books.

After you glance over to make sure Geralt is still sound asleep, you tip-toe to the back of your shack where a large, old locked box resides. Your fingers toy with the lock and you make sure to get it just in that right position to…

You sigh in relief when you hear the quiet click of the lock opening. You lift the lid and remove the many tablecloths to find what you were looking for - the mangled brown leather journal with your father’s initials inscribed on the bottom of it. Your father, a sorcerer, compiled an anthology of all the monsters and non-humans that he came across, and it was the only thing of his that you and your mother still had. You trace the indentations with your finger, ignoring the heavy pull in your chest. You lock the box again and make your way to the main table, making sure to sit with your back to Geralt. 

It only takes a few moments of you thumbing through the yellowed pages of your father’s anthology to find that same design that’s on Geralt’s pendant, and the words above it scream at you. 

WITCHER . 

Of course. The secrecy, the wound, the swords, the hair . You read through the paragraphs on the page that describe the process of becoming a Witcher, and the effects of it. You can’t tear your eyes off of the underlined portion at the bottom, describing how Witcher’s no longer feel emotions after they consume the mutagenic compounds and complete their grueling training. It doesn’t take a scientist to understand why your father wrote that. He thought Witcher’s were evil.

“What are you doing?”

You immediately shut the notebook and launch out of your seat to see Geralt standing in front of you, his right eyebrow raised and his arms pressing folded over his chest, his biceps bulging underneath the pressure. 

“God, Geralt, you scared me,” you place your hand over your heart as you try and catch the breath that was shocked out of you. “I thought you were still asleep.”

“I wasn’t. What are you doing?” he repeats, unrelenting.

You quickly run through the possible outcomes of what could happen if you tell Geralt that you know he’s a Witcher. Surely, he wouldn’t wear his pendant if he was that intent on hiding his identity, right? But, then again, he could easily kill you if you try and be more invasive than you already have been. I mean, you just read about how Witcher’s are soulless monsters who only exist to take lives. 

You try to think of something, but you remember that you couldn’t lie to save your damn life. With a sigh, you pick up the notebook from the table and thumb through to find the page about Witchers. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you are a Witcher, Geralt?” you shove the notebook in front of you, and Geralt takes it from you, scanning the pages. You fumble with your hands, hoping Geralt didn’t notice how fake the confidence in your voice was. 

“I assumed you already knew. Is it not quite obvious?”

You scoff, surprised at how easy Geralt’s few words made you feel so naive and stupid. You snatch the notebook from his hand and brush past him, walking back towards the box. 

“You could’ve at least told me,” you close the lock with more force than you mean to, eliciting a loud bang as it comes in contact with the aged wood. 

“Why are you so upset?” he asks, and the simpleness of his question makes you even more pissed for some reason. 

“I’m not,” you retort, standing up and away from the chest. “I just wish you told me.”

“Would you have not treated me? Had you known I was a Witcher?”

You turn around sharply and don’t attempt to hide the confusion on your face. Geralt’s face was tight, the same it always was, but his voice was strained and his eyes were narrowed, the bright amber of his irises much more intimidating than they once were. 

“What? No, that’s not - that’s not what I meant. Geralt!” you call him after he walks away from you, grabbing his bag of weapons. He nearly makes it out of the shack completely until you yell his name again and he stops in his tracks. You flinch when he turns around to face you with one of the venomous expressions you’ve ever seen, his golden eyes boring into you. 

“What?” he spits, his mouth in a snarl. “You read that book. That’s what you all think of me, right?” 

You can’t help the tears that begin to pool in your eyes at the venom in his words. No one has ever yelled at you - even when your mother scolds you, she never raises her voice even slightly. You hated that Geralt was so upset at you for something you didn’t even mean. 

“Geralt, I promise you, that isn’t what I meant. I’m sorry,” you drop your head, sniffling. If he was going to leave, you wanted him to know you didn’t think anything lesser of him. You would never do anything like that.

You hear the clink of the bag of metal hitting the floor and an exhale come from the man in front of you.

“Stop crying. Please,” he folds his arms over his chest, and you can’t tell if the statement comes from guilt or annoyance.

“Of course I still would’ve treated you, Geralt,” you whisper, breaking the silence that had fallen. “I- I know what that feels like - to not be liked for something you can’t change. I’d never wish that feeling on my worst enemy.”

Geralt says nothing, his eyes locked on yours. 

“If you wish to leave, I won’t stop you,” you empty your chest, trying to convince yourself that you’re okay with that. “But I want you to leave knowing that. I was just scared, I guess. I have not seen anyone in ages, let alone someone like you - but that isn’t a bad thing. Not to me.”

Geralt still doesn’t speak, but he tears his eyes off of you to sit down on your bed.

“Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he murmurs, wincing as he tries to move without tearing the stitches. “I’m not.”

“Good,” you move forward and crouch in front of him, picking up the bottom of his shirt so you can take a look at the stitches. You look up at him to make sure he’s okay with it, and you take his stoic expression as a yes. You see that the stitches are healing quite nicely, but you also notice the dirt and grime that has gathered around it and on the rest of his stomach.

“When was the last time you bathed, Geralt?” you graze your fingers across his abdomen, cringing at the dirt that gathers under them.

“Bathing is a luxury for me. I do it when I can.”

You kiss your teeth and stand up, shaking your head. “A luxury? Nonsense, it is integral. A basic human right.”

“Well, I’m not exactly human am I?” Geralt counters, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“If you are implying, Geralt of Rivia, that you do not need to bathe simply because you are a Witcher,” you pause to dramatically sniff him and make a sour face, “Then you are terribly, terribly mistaken.”

“Alright, enough.” he waves you off as you snicker proudly at your joke. “There’s no bath in here anyway.

 “I know a place.”

••••••

 You focus on the crunching of your feet on the leaves as you lead Geralt towards the river that you use to bathe. The moist dirt tickles your bare feet and you move the tall green weeds out of the way as you breathe in the fresh air, letting it fill your chest.

“The air is so clean because of all the trees. I love going back here.”

“Hmm,” is the only response you get from the man behind you. You briefly look back at Geralt with a smile.

“Such a man of few words,” you say after a few moments, your voice low. You’ve begun to not let the lack of detail from Geralt sting, since it seems that he won’t be opening up to you with his life story any time soon. In fact, you found an odd bit of comfort in his presence - somebody who doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with empty talk. So you accept it and make your way to the river with the quietude heavy between you.  

Even though you’ve been to this river so many times, it never fails to take your breath away. The water is a remarkable pale blue color, and it’s so clean that the light reflecting off of it is almost blinding. Old, decaying logs are littered throughout the bank of the river, spotted with green moss. As you get to the end of the worn trail where the rocks leading to the body water begin, you look up at the blush pink early morning sky and bask in the soft hum of various insects. 

“It is nice.”

Realizing that Geralt talked to you of his own volition and not just because you spoke to him., you feign surprise and look at Geralt with an exaggerated face of shock. “Wow, he speaks!”

Geralt rolls his eyes but you catch the smile on his face when he drops his head. A grin involuntarily makes its way onto your face, and you gesture towards the beautiful river.

“Well, here it is. I’ll go back to the garden and come get you later, alright?”

“You’re not going to bathe?”

Your cheeks and chest immediately get hot as you think of the idea of being so close to Geralt in such an intimate position with no clothes on, imagining the water droplets trailing down his chest and onto his-

You clear your throat and try to remember how words work.

“I was, um, just going to bathe after you were finished. So, uh, yeah.”

“Wouldn’t it just be quicker to bathe together? Wastes less time,” Geralt shrugs, placing his bag with his sword on the ground and reaching to pull off his shirt. “And I’m not sure of this road. Wouldn’t want to get lost.”

Huh. I guess that makes sense.  

“Well, only if you’re okay with it.”

“I proposed it, why wouldn’t I be?”

Not knowing what to say, you nod in agreement and watch him peel off the rest of his clothing. When he looks back at you, you don’t have a chance to explain why you were staring before he asks why you aren’t undressed.

“Uh, close your eyes, please,” you ask, toying with the waistband of your skirt.

Geralt laughs, like really fucking laughs, after you say that, but you can’t seem to find the humor in what you said.

“Geralt. I’m serious.”

“Fine,” he says with a chuckle, making his way towards the river and, after testing the temperature with his foot, glides in with his back facing you. Relieved, you take off your top and skirt, deciding against removing your undergarments, which included your underwear and a light tank top. You’re suddenly very conscious of your body and the way that it looks - no one has ever seen you like this. You force the anxiety out of your head and join Geralt in the river, giving him permission to turn around once you’re submerged up until your shoulders.

“Have you still got a shirt on?” he gestures towards the white strap that is peeking out from the water. “Is that not uncomfortable?”

“No,” you shut down any attempt at continuing that conversation, running your hands over your forearms to scrub off any potential gunk. The two of you naturally fell into another silence, enjoying the cool water as the sun started to rise, glaring down onto the river. The silence permeates for God knows how long until Geralt asks you a question.

 “What did you mean earlier?”

“Hm?” you turn at the sound of Geralt’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you know what it feels like. To be judged.” Geralt moves closer to you, causing ripples in the water. 

“Oh,” you sigh, mentally preparing yourself to tell a story you’ve never spoken about with anyone after it was relayed to you.

“My father,” you start after some moments, “He was a sorcerer - he was born with magic inside of him and had no proper training, but he was still incredible at his craft. Instead of working for the royal family, he decided to help the impoverished who lived near our home. He would heal them, mentally and physically, for quite little money. He took a few jobs under Queen Calanthe that granted him the coins to feed us, but that wasn’t where his heart was. He wasn’t interested in pointless politics,” your voice starts to break as you blink rapidly, attempting to keep it together. You notice Geralt’s expression soften, his jaw releasing from the clench it always seems to be in.

“And when Nilfgaard attacked, he didn’t fight. He stayed in burning buildings and ashy rubble, looking for anyone who needed help that wasn’t a priority to Cintra. And when he was found, he was trying to help a young girl whose leg had been caught under steel. He didn’t even flinch when he was struck, he just kept trying. He never stopped, never - it wasn’t in his blood,” your mouth opens to continue but nothing comes out except for a sob that racks your whole body. Your head falls in your hand and you cry and cry, forgetting that Geralt is standing in the water in front of you until you feel two large arms wrap around yours, enveloping you in a tight embrace. You stiffen instinctively at his tight grip, but let yourself melt into his arms and the water, grasping at his biceps. 

“He sounds like he was a good man, Y/N. You should be proud,” he reassured you, releasing his tight grip and lazily running his hands up and down your forearms. You nodded, not wanting to remove your face from the crevice in Geralt’s neck

“I understand the - the pain of loss,” Geralt says quietly, and you look up, expecting to hear more. Yet you see Geralt staring out straight in front of him, his expression unreadable, and you know that’s all you can squeeze out of him. You're okay with that, though. 

"I feel like I've cried more in the last few days than I have in years, Christ," you laugh, trying to wipe the tears off of your face but realizing the effort is futile as your soaked hands make your face even damper. 

Geralt says nothing but he brushes his thumbs across on your arm, and you register that he's still so close to you. You tilt your head up to look at his face and your eyes fall on the red scar on his cheek, the skin around it slightly raised from the inflammation of the cut. You slowly bring your hand up to his face using your index finger to lightly ghost over the cut, tracing the shape. Geralt closes his eyes as you continue running your finger over the left side of his face until the pad of your finger gets to his jawline, and you pull your finger away to point the pad of your finger in Geralt’s face.

“See?” you prompt with a smile, waiting for him to open his eyes. “All clean.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

This is how I got myself stabbed, yea I'm a dumbass.

So I couldn't resist writing a "prequel" to the How'd you get yourself stabbed, you dumbass?! Fic that I wrote.

I really hope you guys like it!!

And honestly by this point I'm really just writing Jercy fluff but don't tell my denial that

Masterlist

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

Percy Jackson knew he was in trouble when he woke up this morning.

His alarm was blaring Led Zeppelin, his bed sheets were wrapped around his legs and his arm felt like dead weight after sleeping on it all night.

But none of these were actual problems. No, the problem was that Percy woke up with an ache in his chest. That ache that told you something was going to go very very wrong today.

He squeezed his eyes shut and splayed a hand over his chest; his heart was beating normally, ribs expanding and contracting with each breath.

He could never really explain this feeling but he had a routine whenever it came about.

Step 1: breathe. Long, deep, unhurried breathing

Step 2: call everyone you love. Just a hi, and an I'm thinking about you, and a soft I love you.

Step 3: face the day with as big a smile as you can muster. No point in walking on egg shells.

Twenty minutes, and a dozen phone calls later Percy stepped out into a bright blue morning. His mom had managed to whip up Blueberry pancakes before rushing off to work and Paul, as always, had left a delicious cup of coffee on the breakfast bar.

Estelle had already been dropped off at day care but she had left souvenirs around the house as she did each morning. Her blanket over the chair, her toy wind-up car in the passage and her rattle on the couch. Percy smiled at the evidence of his little sister, and the ache in his chest loosened ever so slightly.

He left the house with his headphones in, a spare pack of ambrosia, and his mom's note in his pocket— see you later, have a good time at the movies. I love you.

He went to the beach, and walked up and down the streets of Brooklyn, and avoided Times Square at all costs, and stepped into Grand Central Station because the busyness calmed him in some odd way.

Finally it was time to meet the gang at the movies. Percy was excited to see them; they hadn't hung out in weeks and he missed having them close. It was a heady feeling to know they were still together, still alive, even after so many near-death and literal-death experiences.

The movie, as expected when they were all together, was chaotic and loud and full of laughter. The only person missing was Jason, who had some project to finish before class started on Monday. Percy walked home feeling infinitely lighter.

He should have known better than to fall into a false sense of security. He also shouldn't have been surprised at how well the monsters could still hide in New York.

The thing came upon him so suddenly he didn't have time to react before he was being hurled into a brick wall.

Groaning he pulled himself up and unleashed Riptide.

"Percy Jackson," A voice hissed in the dark

"Oh so you've heard of me. Can't say I've had the same pleasure in regards to you," His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"You don't need to know who I am, just that I'm very happy to be the one to take the great Percy Jackson down," The hissing was closer now.

"Wait hold up, they think I'm great? Wow you think you've heard everything and something always comes along and surprises you huh?"

His teeth flashed in the gloom and he swung Riptide straight into the source of that hiss.

A screech that could shatter glass echoed through Percy's head and before he could blink, a hot searing pain slashed across his abdomen.

"Not so great now Percy Jackson,"

Percy didn't bother to reply and instead swung Riptide again. He missed. Again. Hit. Again. Slash. Again. Miss. Again. The creature turned to dust.

"Feeling pretty great now," He smirked, breathing hard.

And now that the fight had ended he was painfully aware of the stab wound in his side.

Before he had time to think any further he was stumbling towards the street, trying to make it to a familiar building of apartments.

He was in too much pain to get to the ambrosia in his bag, too much pain to even think about it.

Sweat covered his neck, all his concentration narrowing down to putting one shaky foot in front of another, a single thought racking around in his brain.

Just get there, everything will be fine if I can just get there.

And finally the familiar block came into sight and Percy nearly cried in relief. He tried to move faster, tilting and swaying as he rushed towards the building and then up the stairs. Even now, in his dire state he wouldn't risk the elevator. Small spaces were never an option, small spaces that played bad music were worse, and small spaces that represented the in and out of literal hell was an absolute hard no. So up the stairs he crashed, breathing hard, hand holding his side, eyes blurry from pain.

He reached the sixth floor and knocked on apartment eighteen. He gripped the doorway to hold himself steady, the adrenaline rushing out of him all at one go.

Soon enough he heard soft footsteps, then the lock was clicking and the door opened.

"Jase, hey bro," Percy Jackson grinned.

He didn't remember much after that. But he had seen those electric blue eyes and knew he would be safe. The last thing he felt was strong hands holding him up before he allowed himself to succumb to the darkness.

Jason Grace was here.  Percy knew he would be fine.

[junionigiri]

Just Another Secretary Story! Chapter 2: What Else I Can Do With My Life

Chapter Summary: Director Todoroki confronts Secretary Uraraka about her reasons for leaving. (Midoriya tries his best).

Rating: T

“Y-you’re kidding,” Midoriya stammers in awe.

Shouto shakes his head. “Have I ever lied to you before, Midoriya?”

“Never, since I’ve known you in UA,” his former classmate agrees.

It’s the morning of the day after Spiral’s fundraiser. While he expected to have a better morning because of all the successes last night, he woke up with a terrible headache that neither Victoria, his vitamin-infused shower, nor Sato’s award-winning gâteaux minute au yaourt were able to soothe. Because Uraraka requested to come in to work at noontime for her personal matters (whatever they were), Shouto has had to pick his own suit and tie his own tie and review his day’s agenda by himself.

“So the Bodhisattva of Endeavor Inc, the most patient woman in the world, the angel at the demon Director’s side��� Uraraka-san’s finally resigning. Wow. It’s really the end of times.”

Midoriya’s smile is too amused for the dire situation at hand.

“How are you feeling about that?”

“Neutral.”

He’s a capable young hotshot, independent and mature, and he can do everything he needs without anyone’s help. He’s not going to throw a tantrum over anything just because his absent secretary won’t be there to assist him anymore.

“That so? Well I’m glad you’re taking it so well.” Midoriya doesn’t appear too convinced, though. “Did she tell you why she was resigning?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t understand the details but that’s all she said.”

Midoriya ponders about this briefly. “Well, personal reasons are personal reasons. I take it you didn’t ask her what they were?”

“No. I didn’t expect a satisfactory answer.”

Besides, asking for reasons might be mistaken as asking her to stay. A thing he will never do. Todoroki Shouto doesn’t beg.

The green-haired executive shrugs. “Maybe? But I think after nine years of working together, she’d give you an honest answer to it. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

That’s just it. It’s nine whole years from age twenty to present. Nine years of good, hard work, sleepless nights, and successes one after the other. And she ends it all in one night with a smile on her face.

But she’s acting within her rights, so he shouldn’t complain. Whatever those personal reasons are, he doubts he would be very interested in them. Anyhow, “What personal reasons could there be to quit a good, stable job you’ve had for nine years?”

“Oh, plenty,” Midoriya answers with a patient smile. “Health, family, a sense of fulfillment.... Maybe she wants to write a novel. Or get married to a nice guy.”

A muscle twitches under his eye. “Those are unacceptable reasons. She has the best health plan any company can offer, she doesn’t have children, and her work--our work--is fulfilling. World-changing. As for the other reasons--”

He pauses. Does Uraraka like writing? He’s never seen her read or write anything except things related to work. As for marriage, well. His sudden annoyance at the idea of her marrying an unexceptional man aside, married women are allowed to work at his office, so he doesn’t see why that is a problem.

Midoriya only laughs. “But they’re personal, so you have to accept them. You understood it last night pretty well.”

Maybe he did because his guard was so down with his elation from their successes and all that whisky, but now that he’s sober he struggles with the sheer absurdity of it all.

“Anyhow, since she’s leaving, you have to be prepared for a new secretary. It’ll be shaky at first, but I’m sure Uraraka-san will train her well before she leaves you.”

Besides the time it will take to find her replacement, Secretary Uraraka is given two weeks to a month to turnover her duties to the new hire. A blank slate prone to mistakes. Already Shouto is dreading going through the process.

Things would be simpler if Uraraka didn’t quit and nothing changed. Change is awful. Why must he be subjected to this again? Does he deserve this turmoil?

“So, that’s some time to find out what her reasons are,” the freckled executive continues brightly. “And maybe, if you find out what they are--”

The little Archimedes sitting dormant in Shouto’s brain suddenly screams, Eureka!

“Then she doesn’t have to quit being my secretary anymore.”

“Then you can support her in--huh? Come again, Director?”

That’s right. If it’s health, he’ll offer her the best treatments that Japan has to offer, overseas if he has to. If it’s family, he’ll compensate her more than enough to support them. If it’s work, or a novel, or travel, or whatever, there’s always money he can throw to solve those.

If it’s marriage, well... that might be difficult, but Shouto has solved every problem that came his way, and this will be no different. There’s no reason for Uraraka to throw away nine whole years of good work for any silly personal reason she might have come across.

Best of all, it won’t be begging if he has something to offer. How could he have missed it?

“As expected from you, Midoriya. Talking to you in your much smaller office has unexpected productivity benefits. I’ll talk to accounting to give you further compensation.”

Midoriya falters, a flabbergasted expression on his face. “Th-that isn’t really necessary, Director.”

“Nonsense. You’ve earned it.” The most pertinent problem of the day addressed (somewhat), the young director stands up from Midoriya’s couch and moves to leave. “Well then, break time is over. We should both be attending to our duties now.”

“Director.” Midoriya bows, strangely defeated. “Nice talk.”

Feeling less gloomy than he felt this morning, Shouto returns to his office with a new sense of purpose.

 *

 Meanwhile, Ochako wakes up the same morning feeling more refreshed than usual.

The sunlight hits her face as she sits up from her tiny bed. It’s bright out, she’s still in bed, and she has places to go. It’s gonna be a great day.

She moves about in her messy little apartment, being careful not to trip around her discarded clothes and things as she readies herself for the day. She puts on light make-up, silver earrings and a simple necklace, and puts on her favorite peach silk blouse and pencil skirt. She fixes her hair until the end result of it is respectable but not too flashy. Director Todoroki never likes flashy.

She’s amazed that she’s able to ask for a few hours off in the morning from Director Todoroki. She’s glad that she did such a good job last night that he had no room to say no, and that she plucked up the courage to say that she wants to resign. All it really takes for him to say yes to anything is good results. She didn’t think she’d get here, but she finally has room in her life for important things.

So, on to personal reason number one.

With a sense of confidence she’s never had before, she enters the bank to fill out a few forms. Her heart is light as she signs her name and date on it and passes it on to the clerk.

“Thank you. Um,” the clerk says in mild confusion. “Sorry, your name is Uraraka Hisho ?”

She blushes furiously and takes back the form with an awkward laugh. “No… it’s Uraraka Ochako.” Fumbling momentarily with her pen, she erases the characters for secretary and replaces them with the ones for tea and child-- her proper legal name. 

It’s a mistake she makes more commonly than she’d like, but not for long since she’s resigning. She’d brag about it to the stunned clerk if she could.

After a few stamps, signatures, and computer logs, the clerk hands her copies of her forms and a receipt. “Your debts have been paid in full. Congratulations, Uraraka-san.”

Ochako might have smiled a little too brightly, judging by the way that the clerk and the others around her are visibly taken aback, but she couldn’t help it. “Thank you so much,” she gushes, and after shaking more hands than necessary, she greets the rush morning traffic with a brightness to her soul.

Nine years of hard work, sleepless nights, blood and tears amounted to this. It cost her her youth and a lot of heartache, but she can look back at all of that without regrets. She can finally call Ma and Pa back home and tell them that she took care of things and there’s nothing to worry about anymore.

And she is about to do just that, except her phone vibrates impatiently before she gets to it with a familiar name flashing on the screen. “Director Todoroki,” she answers in her business voice.

“Secretary Uraraka. Where are you? You told me I can expect you back at work by eleven.”

As blunt and intense as ever. It’s ten-thirty according to her wristwatch. “I am on my way back to Endeavor Tower, sir. I will be at your office on schedule.”

“You did not answer my question,” he replies, to which she gives an impolite grimace through the phone.

Suppressing a sigh, she gives the name of the bank and the exact address. “It’s ten minutes away by taxi,” she adds, knowing very well that the Director has no sense of the parts of the city he does not frequent.

“Don’t move. Shoji is on his way.”

“No, that isn’t necessary--” Ochako begins, but the line is cut off before she can put in another word. Honestly, would it kill him to say goodbye like a normal person?

Ten minutes later, the Bentley comes by the curb. The back door pops open to reveal the Director in all his glory. “Get in. We’re going to be late for lunch.”

Ochako slides in the back seat with an incredulous look on her face. “You told me you didn’t need me to accompany you there, Director.”

“Now I need you to,” he replies bluntly. “Will that be a problem, Secretary Uraraka?”

Hiding the twitch under her eye, she answers, “Of course not, Director.”

Shoji catches her eyes through the rearview mirror. The sullen expression in the quiet bodyguard’s face tell a detailed story of the demon Director giving everyone a hard time in the office. Simply put, she just had to do what he says to save both of them the trouble. 

Noted, Shoji-kun, she replies silently. He appears grateful for it.

And so begins their awkward ride. As they speed off, she decides to adjust the Director’s tie for him--it’s been a while since he wore one on his own, and it shows. This should be routine, nothing special, but today it was just weird. Todoroki’s glare is a thousand times more intense today and he won’t stop glaring at her right in the face and it just makes her feel like her face is too close to his.

Feeling like she’d catch fire if she took too long with his tie, she fixes it in a hurry and sits at an arm’s length away from him.

The strangeness doesn’t stop there. She expects to spend the hour drive to the Todoroki estate in their usual, comfortable silence, but somehow the stretch of silence seems a little strained now, and in the middle of it the Director clears his throat and asks, “So. How was your morning? Did you spend it well?”

Is this…. small talk?

Nine years of complaining about small talk and he’s suddenly engaging her in small talk??? She sees that even Shoji is taken aback by this. “... Yes. I was finally able to finish some personal business that needed fixing. Thank you for generously giving me the morning off.”

The Director hums thoughtfully. “Your personal reasons, ” he confirms. When she nods, he adds, “I’m glad that went well, then.”

There’s a little smirk on his lips when he says that. What is going on with this guy? She doesn’t wonder about it for too long though as they make it to the Todoroki Mansion outside of the city.

It’s big, sprawling, and overall intimidating. An ordinary person wouldn’t know that an estate as big as this existed close to the crowded city, but Ochako knows this place well thanks to the Director and Chairman Todoroki’s whims.

At the door, Todoroki Fuyumi welcomes them in with a graceful smile. “Oh, you brought Uraraka-san as well,” the older sister says in surprise. “You told me it’s just you.”

“She was with me. It was merely convenient to bring her along.” Ochako tries not to puff her cheeks in offense.

Knowing her baby brother very well, Fuyumi doesn’t seem that convinced. “Well, I always like having you here, Uraraka-san. At least Shouto's going to behave better," she adds with a teasing smile directed at her brother, who obviously does not appreciate it. "Let’s go, father’s waiting.”

In the dining room, Todoroki Enji, Chairman of Endeavor Inc, is fuming in his seat. But that's not surprising. Ochako has never seen the older Todoroki wear any other expression for all the years she's known him. “Shouto, what’s this I hear about you and the Yaoyorozu girl?”

“Hello, Father, it’s nice to see you too,” the Director drawls, taking his seat across him. Ochako sits next to him just as the servers place all sorts of entrees in front of them: traditional Japanese food, plus an inordinate amount of zarusoba and kuzumochi. Typical Todoroki household fare.

“Answer my question,” Chairman Todoroki rumbles.

Director Todoroki slurps his zarusoba in response.

By now it’s easy to imagine fire coming out of all of the holes of the Chairman’s head. “Here I took the trouble of finding an appropriate spouse for you, did all the negotiating and all the bothersome work, and you end up wasting my efforts in the most shameful way possible.”

“I thought you’d be used to it by now,” the Director answers easily. “Yaoyorozu’s wasted on me. I did her a favor.”

“You don’t get to decide,” Todoroki Enji says bluntly. “Her father’s a good friend of mine who the company owes a lot of favors since I started it. I won’t be able to face him after that stupid stunt you just pulled.”

The younger one sighs. “I’ll make it up to her,” he relents.

While the Chairman gives him a barely-satisfied grunt that comes with the expectation of his son getting back together with Yaomomo, Ochako knows that the Director is likely going to send her an apology bottle of wine or something similar. She hopes that he sends Shoji for that errand instead of her for a change.

The Chairman unexpectedly turns to her as she places kuzumochi in her mouth. “And you. Don’t just do every single shameless thing that my son asks you to do. If you want to keep your job, you’d do well to use your own discernment and not just his.”

That shit stings to the highest level, and if it were any other secretary than her, she would have burst into tears. But she’s Secretary Uraraka, and she is better than that. “Thank you for your kind advice, Chairman, but you don’t need to worry about me. This is my last month of work in your company, so--”

All manner of cutlery falls noisily on their plates. Todoroki Enji and Fuyumi are staring at her in plain shock. Well, she expected this. This is the first time she mentioned her resignation to them after nine years of serving Todoroki Shouto and his family after all.

But Todoroki Shouto also seems to have dropped his chopsticks on the floor in favor of staring at her like she just stabbed him the gut. What did she say that was so surprising to make him turn blue in the face? Did she mispronounce anything again?

Fuyumi speaks above the violent coughing fits that come after. “Uraraka-san, do you have a minute? I want to show you something in the sitting room.”

Trying not to appear too stunned, Ochako mutely follows Fuyumi out after a brief and deep bow to the shocked father and son combo. 

 *

The drive back from his father’s house is uncomfortable. That’s to be expected after coughing out cold noodles from his trachea while watching his father do the same thing with a mouthful of chewed kuzumochi. Then there’s the heavy air of betrayal coming from the person sitting on his left.

“I didn’t know you were still quitting,” he manages to say in a calm, albeit very strained voice. “And to announce it in front of the Chairman like that.. that’s as good as making it final.”

Uraraka looks at him as if she said nothing out of order at all. “Yes, sir. I don’t recall saying anything otherwise.”

“You said your personal affairs were all resolved.”

“One of them, sir,” she answers in a careful tone. “But that does not change my decision. I still plan to resign for personal reasons.”

Again with those reasons. Whatever they were, they can’t be as important as her work with Shouto. He’s sure that they’re easy things that can be resolved, like the thing she resolved in just a few hours.

“So tell me about them,” he tells her, trying not to appear as menacing as he felt. “What are these very important personal reasons that will make Secretary Uraraka abandon all that she’s built with Todoroki Shouto for the past nine years?”

Maybe it was unfair to phrase it like that. Shouto doesn’t know where all the negative emotions are coming from, to be honest, and he doesn’t know why he’s reacting this way to her. He considers taking it back and rephrasing his question in a more professional way, especially when Uraraka’s brown eyes darken with something that makes him want to retreat.

But he doesn’t take anything back--if this candor is what keeps Uraraka from running out on him, he’ll give it to her.

Uraraka takes a deep, calming breath. “It’s nine years, as you said. Good, productive years where I gained valuable skills and knowledge by your side. I’m grateful for all the experience.”

As you should, Shouto thinks smugly, before she continues.

“But I’m already twenty-nine years old and I live alone and I don’t want to be anymore. I have to work hard and make up for lost time if I want to get married and have children.”

What a mundane reason. Doesn’t she know that the company gives certain perks to married people and their children? “So find someone, go to city hall, and marry them. I’ll give you a day off for that. You can have one tomorrow if you want.”

Uraraka stares at him incredulously. “It doesn’t work that way, Director.”

“That’s how people are legally bound in marriage according to the laws of Japan. Am I mistaken?”

“No, but--” she pauses, laughs in frustration. “Marriage doesn’t work that way for ordinary people like me. Especially with so little opportunities to meet someone worthwhile to marry.”

“Really.”

“Yes, really.” Uraraka’s tone is stiffer than usual. “May I remind you that for the past nine years, my work starts before the sun rises and ends right before midnight with no days off. There’s no way for me to meet anyone if I keep up that schedule.”

Shouto gives her a look that confirms that indeed, he doesn’t understand why it’s a problem. Isn’t it all on her if she can’t manage her personal life? But instead of looking apologetic about it, she gives him a pitying look. “It’s all right Director, I don’t expect you to understand. You are far from ordinary, after all.”

“I am,” he tells her without boasting. “So don’t underestimate me.”

“I’m not, sir.” Uraraka looks at him, eyes wide and bright. “Director… I’ve given nine of the best years of my life to you and your company. I don’t regret anything about it. But don’t you agree that it’s time to see what else I can do with my life?”

The silent plea in her eyes makes the air around Shouto feel like lead.

No, it can’t be true. Nine years of her being at his side, nine years of good hard work, blood sweat and tears. Do they mean nothing to her? Was it all a waste? Did he really force her to waste her life on him?

Why did it feel so terrible to realize this?

All the snide remarks die in his throat. Suddenly it’s hard to look at her. Suddenly it’s hard to focus on anything except the rushing city past the window beside him. In the glass, Shouto sees her reflection staring at his back quietly.

It’s not long before she looks forward to a place far away. 

 *

 “And that’s the gist of it,” Shouto says, nursing a cup of tea as he looks out at the veranda. It’s full of plants as green as Midoriya’s head. He wonders how the marketing chief doesn’t lose himself in it.

Clad in a T-shirt that says shorts and a pair of sweatpants, Midoriya tries not to laugh at his plight, and fails.

“I don’t appreciate that, Midoriya,” he warns him. Even though he invited himself to the other executive’s home, it doesn’t give him the right to laugh at a superior officer.

“Sorry.” He controls the smile on his face expertly and continues with a cough, “It’s just that it’s all that the company is gossiping about all day long. To think that the Chairman choked on his lunch over it… it’s bigger news than I thought.”

“A bigger problem,” Shouto corrects him sternly. “It’s a bigger problem for the company than we thought.”

Midoriya gives a high pitched eeeh. “Is it, though? She’s going through the proper procedure before she leaves work. And she gave you a sound reason for quitting, so…”

“It’s not reasonable to quit a good career just because she wants to get married.”

“It sounds pretty reasonable to me. Lots of people want to prioritize relationships over their careers and the other way around. Neither one is the only correct thing to do. It’s simply a personal decision.”

And here he thought that he worked so well with Uraraka because she belonged in the second group like him. For him it wasn’t a matter of prioritizing career over anything because there was nothing else. Since when did Uraraka want a relationship? “I thought we were on the same page all this time. Before I knew it, her mind’s already made up and there was no room for me to change her mind.”

It feels unfair. He’s likely being immature about all this, but Uraraka’s worse, because she’s stubborn.

The other man shrugs. “At the end of the day, it’s not your decision to make.”

“Well, it should be.”

“Director… it doesn’t work like that.”

Uraraka is his employee. His. And nobody else’s.

Green eyes look him over carefully. “But you know, there’s only one reasonable thing to do about this, right? And that is to--”

Shouto can’t say that the gentle, hinting smile on his best friend’s face is his favorite. It’s much too patronizing and it reminds him how emotionally inadequate he is. But then again, every time he does it, enlightenment follows and a solution appears.

“--marry her.”

“--wish her well in her--wait, what?!!!”

He stands up more unsteadily than intended as he listens to sound of the universe clicking things in place.

How could he have missed such an obvious solution? The old man wants him to marry someone. Uraraka wants to marry someone. There’s no rule in the company that spouses can’t work in the same office. If they don’t take too long with prenuptial agreements, they can get married in no time. It all works out.

“Midoriya, excellent job. Expect another call from accounting,” he says, finishing the rest of his tea in one swallow. Midoriya has a face that can’t be read, but it doesn’t matter now that he knows the precise, exact, correct answer to this previously unsolvable situation.

“No, that’s not--” Midoriya stammers, following him out of his house. “Todoroki-kun--I mean, Director, are you serious? You’re going to propose to Uraraka-san? Because that’s definitely not what I meant when I said those things…”

“Maybe not,” Shouto says, “So that means I came up with the perfect answer on my own, doesn’t it?”

Midoriya gives him an uneasy look. “Director, this isn’t going to work.”

“Hm,” Shouto says doubtfully. “In the unlikely event that it doesn’t, I’ll come back to you for analysis.”

Midoriya looks like he has an hour’s worth of mutterings to say in this regard. Shouto can try to listen to that, but he’s already wasted enough time.

Leaving the flustered Midoriya on the curb, he speeds off into the night, an address in a middle-class area of the city his target. 

  *

 Because Director Todoroki unexpectedly cut their work short in favor of consulting Chief Midoriya in his home, Ochako finally had extra time to do some shopping.

Grocery shopping is a simple joy that she doesn’t take for granted. Today she made it before the afternoon sale on eggs closed. It’s been a while since she last enjoyed a good home-cooked meal, and she’s looking forward to all the things she can cook for the next couple of days.

“Let’s see… tonight, omurice sounds great,” she says, singing a little song to herself. “Oh, and I have some time to check out that k-drama Tooru-chan told me to watch!”

There isn’t much to see in the neighborhood she lived in. Most of them are apartment complexes with affordable rent. She managed to score the cheapest one. The street is narrow, which isn’t usually a problem since most of the residents there don’t own cars. And it may be too quiet, but quiet is good. Quiet means she can take it easy, and...

An all too-familiar Bentley takes up the entire street in front of her apartment. Gods, nothing in this life is ever easy.

Director Todoroki is leaning against the hood of the car, intently watching the door of her apartment like a cat waiting for a mouse to come out of a hole in the wall. That’s strange enough, but stranger still is the fact that he evidently drove there by himself, didn’t get lost, and didn’t seem to have run over anything or anyone on accident or otherwise.

“Director?” she calls out experimentally, on the off-chance that it’s all an elaborate hallucination.

The curt executive turns to her immediately. The familiar severe look on his face tells her that this absurd situation is happening for real. “You’re finally back. It took you a while.”

His blue and grey eye run over her in a flash. This might be one of the few times he’s seen her outside of her work clothes. It shouldn’t bother her since she’s off duty, but suddenly she’s self conscious of the old teambuilding exercise shirt and gym shorts she opted to wear to buy her food.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, not willing to prolong this awkward moment any longer.

“I was waiting for you,” he answers, as if it’s obvious. “There’s something that I need from you. And from my understanding, there’s something that you need from me, too.”

She tells him plainly, “I don’t follow.”

“It’s all right, Secretary Uraraka. It took me a while before I caught on, too.”

He steps forward, ever impressive in his tailored suit, striking eyes almost glowing in the dark with purpose. It's been a while since she feels the boggled feeling ordinary people feel when seeing his disconcertingly handsome face. Maybe because it's so dark and it's just them and why the heck is he in such an ordinary part of town anyways?

She really, really, really doesn’t understand what is going on, and so she responds to him in the way that works on him--bluntly. “Director, please let me know what you want,” she says, struggling to remain professional in her shorts. “I’ll do my best to comply.”

He nods, satisfied. “Good.”

Without warning, he drops to one knee, awkwardly gathering the hand that’s not carrying two dozen eggs, and pretends it isn’t awkward at all. As if this isn’t awkward enough--

“I want you by my side forever. Marry me.”

All her plans of making omurice are instantly obliterated as the bag drops on the concrete beside them. 

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Big Spook (Peter Parker x Reader -  Part 1)

Synopsis: Aged Up!Peter thinks he’s done well with leading a double life. He’s studying what he likes, he has his own place, he’s dating the girl he loves... but that doesn’t mean life is easy all the time. Even superheroes have bad days - and sometimes worse days.

Tags: Aged Up!Character, College AU, Established relationship, Whump, Angst. Does not take FFH into account. SPOILER FREE.

Word count: 2k

A/N: I decided to write a shorter piece since my long ones don’t get a lot of attention. I don’t know why... Do you guys prefer short imagines? Do you get discouraged when you see “word count: 9k”??? Please tell me in the comments so I can adapt my writing :(

>>> Part 2

MASTERLIST

Any twenty-something will tell you that life is a roller-coaster. One minute you’re on top of the world, the next you’re plummeting down, plunging towards the cement ground at a hundred miles an hour with no means of pulling the breaks of your own demise.

But if you asked Peter Parker, twenty-four and currently balancing out a post-graduate and superhero life, it was far worse than that. The highs were higher – as high as space, actually – and the lows were…

Actually, he didn’t like to talk about the lows. They were the kinds of lows he sometimes couldn’t remember, and that said it all. He could deal with those, but it killed him to see the effect it had on (Y/N), the way she worried herself sick over his well-being.

They had been dating for a solid five years now, and lived together in a small, grimy apartment – the only thing they could afford – near NYU, where they both studied mechanical engineering. It was how they met, in freshman year, and slowly became permanent features in each other’s life.

(Y/N) was strong and steadfast, though she often gave the appearance of a delicate slip of a woman, Peter had discovered it was no were near her true self. He knew she could take whatever life threw at her, and that was why he didn’t push her away when things started becoming serious between them, and he realized it might one day put her in danger.

He had once told her she was like a river: calm and steady on the surface, but intense and full of life deep down. It had made her smile and she had called him silly, then kissed him. Peter loved the way she loved him, and he loved to love her too. It was easy, like second nature really. There was no fighting it, and to be honest, Peter didn’t even try because turning away from her radiant presence was the last thing he wanted. However, that didn’t mean that he could impose his alter ego to her.

Therefore, he had decided to tell her about his double life, to give her a chance to back out of their relationship if she decided it was too much. He never got the chance in the end, because the day he finally worked up the courage to talk to her was the first day he got seriously beat up by a villain since they started dating.

(Y/N) had found Peter in the alley next to her shared apartment, limping in the shadows and calling her name in a whisper. He had collapsed and lost consciousness before she could reach him.

That day became a turning point in both their lives, but not necessarily for the worst. (Y/N) had carried him – hell knows how – up to the fourth floor where she lived and smuggled him in her room without her roommates noticing anything, and she had tended to his wounds after establishing that he wasn’t in any life-threatening condition.

Peter woke up two days later, the morning sun hitting him in the face, his Spider-Man suit hanging on the back of a chair next to the bed he laid on. He recognized his surroundings immediately, sending his heart into a frenzy, but when he tried to stand up to leave, the pain knocked him down again and he fell back into the pile of pillows on (Y/N)’s bed with a grunt, the air sucked out of his lungs.

(Y/N) had burst into the room, an apron tied around her waist. When she saw him awake, tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away, one trembling hand covering her mouth.

“(Y/N),” Peter breathed out, still struggling to catch some air. “I can explain…”

               She didn’t let him. Instead, she lurched forward and threw her arms around him, crying into the crook of his neck. She tried not to hold him too tightly, but the relief was too great to just stand there.

“You could have told me, Peter,” she sobbed against his skin. She had undressed him to dress his wounds, Peter realized. “I was so scared, so scared…”

               Her entire body shook against his, and Peter could only wrap one arm around her while he supported himself with the other, but he too was relieved to see her. She knew the truth now, though he would rather she discovered it another way.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized, planting a kiss on her temple. “I was going to tell you, I swear. This isn’t how you were supposed to find out.”

               They held each other for hours, quietly crying and whispering sweet nothings, until (Y/N) was all out of tears and Peter’s stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t eaten in two days after all, and he was in dire need of a shower and a warm meal. He promised to tell her everything over breakfast, and after he made a quick stop at the bathroom while (Y/N) prepared some eggs and bacon, he came out of her room, limping but very much alive, wearing the spare clothes he always left at her place.

               Those were the best scrambled eggs he had ever eaten.

 *

               Flash-forward three years, (Y/N) didn’t have to drag Peter’s limp body out of an alley and sneak him into her shared flat. A little over a year ago, when they graduated, they decided to try for a master’s degree too and moved in together.

               It wasn’t much, they basically lived on top of each other, but it was theirs – and neither of them really minded having to live on top of each other. Peter liked to think that if Tony was still alive and saw where he lived, he would forcefully drag him out, have the entire building demolished for not respecting the most basic health standards, and buy him his own private penthouse overlooking central park on fifth avenue.

               (Y/N) told Peter she would have personally overlooked the demolition, because this place was truly not sanitary in any way. Still, they made do, and after thoroughly cleaning, sweeping, scrubbing and swabbing, it started to look like a place human beings would live. It became their home.

               Peter waited until dusk to go on his daily patrols, so no one would spy Spider-Man lurking around their living-place. The last thing he wanted was for someone bearing ill-intentions to lay a hand on (Y/N) while he was gone.

“I can see you vibrating from here,” (Y/N) commented with a giggle, looking up from her manual and momentarily stopping scribbling down notes.

               She was sitting on the far end of the couch, legs tucked under her, while Peter was kneeling next to the window, already wearing his suit, though he still held his mask in his hand, and waiting for the moment the streetlights would turn on – his signal that it was dark enough to leave.

               When she spoke up, Peter froze and realized his left leg had been hopping nervously, and he was fidgeting.

“Can’t help it,” he said with an apologetic glance. (Y/N) only smiled in return. He knew she had trouble focusing on her work whenever he was in the same room, being a nervous wreck about one thing or another. “I hope I can find him tonight, before he makes more victims.”

               His gaze was trained on the streets down below, but he heard (Y/N) put down her pen and shut her book. A new villain had been terrorizing people around town, targeting small, family-owned businesses with no security, not even cameras. The police couldn’t find him because they had no idea who to look for, his identity remained a mystery, for all they knew he might not even work alone.

               Peter had almost tracked him down last week, but he managed to escape in the night, and had kept popping here and there to do his misdeeds every night since. Peter felt responsible and grew antsy knowing he was still out there. The other reason why no one knew what he looked like was because he never left survivors. The victims were found in truly gruesome conditions.

               Peter hadn’t seen for himself yet, but even the police reports sounded awful, and they always toned it down for the public and tried to keep everything objective. Reports talked about massacres. Blood everywhere.

“I know how much you want to catch him, Peter,” (Y/N) started, sighing deeply. She stood up and joined him by the window, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Please be very careful.” Her eyes glimmered with worry. “I don’t want to see your name in tomorrow’s headlines, understood?”

“I have to stop him, I’ll do whatever it takes,” he argued. “I should have caught him long ago, no one’s managed to elude me for so long. If only I knew how he always managed to disappear-“

“Peter!” (Y/N) cut him off. She knelt down to be at eye-level with him and took his chin between her fingers. “I’m afraid your eagerness will lead you to making a mistake. Be smart about this, don’t just rush into a fight and risk your life.”

“I risk my life every day, (Y/N), there’s nothing new about this,” he protested, shaking his head. “What’s the matter now? Why is this guy any different?”

“You know why,” she snapped, standing up again and crossing her arms. “I heard the reports too, Peter. You’re not the only one who can connect to the police frequency, I know what he did to those people. He’s a butcher.”

“Which is exactly why I need to stop him!” He didn’t see what (Y/N) expected him to do. “Who else is going to do it? The police are clueless, and I’m much stronger than them anyway.”

“But you’re not invincible!”

               It came from a good place, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now. Peter yanked his head back so (Y/N) would let go of him, and he turned away, making her sigh again. They rarely argued about anything, at least nothing of real importance. Sure they disagreed on stuff, like what movie to watch, whether to order Thai or Indian, what to get May for her birthday – but they always found common ground when it came to grave matters.

               (Y/N) always knew that Peter Parker would be the death of her, even before finding out about his double life. From the very first time he had laughed at one of her idiotic science puns, she had known. During their first tutorial class, the teacher had paired the students randomly together, and they had never again changed partners since.

               But having to watch him fly into the night, not knowing when, how, or if he was going to come back, was something (Y/N) never thought she would have to bear with. Most girls only had to worry about not being cheated on or keeping things spicy in the bedroom. (Y/N) had to worry about her boyfriend never coming home, about Peter going MIA. Each goodbye kiss could be the last, and she was aware of that, she made them all count.

               But not tonight.

“It’s time,” he said before she could go back on her words. She regretted them the moment they crossed her lips. The streetlights were on. “Don’t wait on me.”

               And just like that, he jumped out of the window, disappearing out of sight. (Y/N) leaned on the frame to see him off but he didn’t turn back at all. She couldn’t remember the last time they parted ways on such bad terms.

It was starting to rain, too.

.

.

.

.

Comment if you wanna be tagged on part 2 :)

REBLOG TO SAVE A WRITER

[breazy18]

Frailty III

Story Overview: Roman Godfrey is owner of The Godfrey Institute (The White Tower) is forced by his mother Olivia Godfrey, to be with a woman, to not only make upir, but create offspring with.

--

“Oh, I didn’t know you were home Roman.” I sat the book down and turned to face him. “Clearly.” He extended his hand pointing at me on the couch. “I’m sorry.” I sighed standing up. “I am going to run out and buy groceries so you can eat. I know you know why I do not have much food or drinks in my house, so I do not find it necessary to explain.” He spat jingling his keys around. “I will work out a situation about your transportation until I get you a car.” He turned and walked out of the door. I sighed and fell back on the couch, my eyes wandering the room. Romans desk sitting in the corner of the room with his computer sitting on it, papers neatly placed in a corner and books placed in the other. This room was beautiful, the black velvet couch and chairs, the floor to ceiling bookcases, the stone fireplace in the corner.

Roman returned and I helped him unload the groceries in the kitchen. “Thank you for going to get me food.” I spoke softly to him and he looked up. “Sure.” “Roman, can I ask something?” I mumbled putting away a jar of sauce. “Hm?” I turned to face him, making sure to keep my distance. “Why do you hate me so much?” I sighed. Romans fingertips pressed against the marble countertops. “I don’t hate you, I don’t particularly like you, but I don’t hate you, I am used to being alone, your presence in the house makes me uncomfortable, and I just don’t want to be loved, why be loved when everyone turns on you, and when everyone leaves?” He spat. “I get it Roman.” I sighed. “I’m sorry I asked.” I turned around to grab one of the protein bars he picked up at the store. When I turned around my face was in his chest. “Roman.” I sighed looking up at him. “Why do you care if I like you?” He spoke quietly but with no expression. “Because I want to get along with you Roman, you know, we are forced to be married, but we could at least try to communicate every once in a while, as civilized people.” I stared deep into his eyes. “Got it.” He turned away grabbing a glass of water. “I will be in my office if you are in dire need of anything, unless it is a emergency I see you stay out, I have work to do, and I know you love that room since you are always in it, but tonight I need no distractions.” He began walking away his back facing me.

The majority of the night I just sat out in the living room watching TV until I got tired. I walked past Romans office. I looked at him and then he looked up. “Hey.” He spoke. “Hey, um, I guess I was just coming to see if you were still up.” I sighed. “Yeah, I am, it is supposed to storm tonight.” He looked back down at his computer screen, this man was certainly all business. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. Goodnight.” I turned to walk away. With a strong tone of voice Roman spoke again. “Y/N?” I turned to face him. “Yes?” “Goodnight, remember we have dinner with Olivia tomorrow.” He reminded me. I nodded and turned away again still feeling his eyes burning holes in my soul.

That night the wind was whipping around the house, lighting casted shadows of the trees in my room, lighting and thunder cracked against the sky causing me to jump out of the bed. Roman had lit oil lamps around the house tonight, probably for the sake of the power going out, there was light leading all the way down a long hallway where two double doors were, the doors cracked where you could see a little bit of yellow light pooling out onto the floor. I made my way down the hallway knowing that I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway. I cracked open the big doors more and I saw him. Roman in his four-poster canopy bed with a fire place in front of the bed, his pale skin looked like silk at this moment, his hair ruffled around and his face relaxed and calm. I turned to walk back out, embarrassed that I had even come down this way to him. I turned to walk out of the room and went to crack the door. “Y/N? What are you doing?” He sighed. I turned back around and cracked the door so I could talk. “I know I shouldn’t have come in here; I am sorry, I was scared.” I mumbled suddenly scared remembering what he said about if he caught me over here. “Open the door.” I opened the door more and I saw him, propped up on one of his arms. “Come here.” He moved over in his bed and pulled the blankets back. I walked closer standing at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry Roman, I know I shouldn’t have come-“ He cut me off by grabbing my hand, the first physical contact I had made with him. He was gently pulling me into the bed and thunder smacked against the sky causing me to hurry into the bed. We were facing each other and he moved his hand off of mine and touched my cheek. “It is just a storm, go to sleep.” He whispered running his fingers up and down my arm then came closer and kissed my lips softly. I pulled away shocked. “What was that for?” I gasped shocked. “Just wanted to know what it was like, now sleep, don’t get too much in your head, this doesn’t mean anything.” I laid there that night pressed against Romans body.

The next morning when I woke, I was back in my room. I spent the day organizing my belongings and then got dressed. Before too long there was a knock on the door. I hurried down the stairs to catch whoever it was. I opened the door to a man with blonde hair and a scruffy chin in a suit. “Hello, can I help you?” I pressed. “Um, no, I am a driver for your husband Mrs. Godfrey, you are wanted up at the Institute.” He smiled gently. Being called Mrs. Godfrey gave me chills. “Okay.” I locked the door and walked out with the man.

There it was the tall building you could see from all of Hemlock Grove. The man parked and did not come in with me. I walked in the building and an officer came over to me. “Who are you?” “I am Y/N, Roman Godfreys wife.” I stumbled over the word wife. “Okay, top floor, you will be greeted and led to his office.” The officer smiled. I walked to the elevator, pressed the highest floor and waited. Once the elevator came to a stop I stepped out and saw a man sitting at a desk. “How may I help you ma’am?” “I am here for my husband, Mr. Godfrey.” He looked taken back but came from around the desk and led me to an office with two glass doors. “He is in there.” I opened the doors and began making my way in the office. Roman looked up at me through his lashes then stood suddenly. “You needed to see me?” I stopped walking. “Yeah, um, my mother had this waiting with Norman today.” Roman handed me a big box that was wrapped in white wrapping paper. “What is it?” I took a seat in one of the chairs. “No idea, it is addressed to you.” I opened up the box and there was a white dress sitting in it with a note. “Wear this to dinner, tell Roman to wear a suit, the two little boxes are your rings, I suggest you wear them, see you tonight.” I handed over the note to Roman and sat the little ring boxes on his desk and pulled out the white dress. “Is that a wedding dress?” Roman growled. “No, I think it’s just a simple white dress.” At the bottom of the box there was a shoe box with a pair of white heels. I pulled them out. “I think she things I’m too short for you.” I giggled, but Roman said nothing, I looked up and found him staring at one of the ring boxes. “What is it.” I asked slipping the shoes back in their box. “I guess this is yours.” He turned the ring to face me, a small emerald cut diamond ring and a wedding band below it. I gasped. “It is beautiful, its such a shame.” I whispered. Roman grabbed the other ring box and in it sat a small silver wedding band. I went to slip on the ring but Roman stopped me. “Wait.” He sat down his box. “Let me do it?” He asked. I was taken back but handed him over the ring box and he slipped on the two rings, then he slipped on his. “Why did you do that?” I asked confused. ‘’Well, we have to give my mother some sort of satisfaction, but as soon as we get home from dinner, we aren’t wearing them unless we absolutely have to.” He sighed.

I changed into the white dress and shoes and sat in Romans office the rest of the day until it was time for us to go to dinner at Olivia’s.

--- 

Here is part three, If you want to read part one and two I linked them below.

I have really enjoyed writing this story and would be open to writing more, If you guys want more let me know and I will continue writing it.

Frailty Part 1

Frailty Part 2

-NEW-

Frailty Part 4

Frailty Part 5

Frailty Part 6

Frailty Part 7

Frailty Part 8

Frailty Part 9

[00sheven]

655321

hello all. good day.

I guess it's been a relatively regular sort of day.

I have not worked on any insurance stuff as of yet.

however.

well let's begin at the beginning.

my sister clomped ( is that a real word?) he way into the outpost at 11am this morning.

she called up stairs to tell the kids she had "hot coco" then proceeded to clomp up and down the stairs.

I woke up, and got my bearings, put my sleeping bag in the wash and proceeded to start my day.

I've been sleeping later these days because I dread waking up and having to deal with all the unpleasantness that comes with trying to get your life back on track after the nuclear holocaust that we've gone through the first few months of this year.

as I said in earlier posts. 2020 has been a real kick in the balls.

as always the video games fired up immediately.

I guess the goose had got up early to do his homework.

he walked up stairs as I was putting away the remnants of my sleeping apparatus away.

the first thing that I witness was my youngest nephew benny have a complete meltdown because he was stuck in a spot on a video game. ( he just didnt want to play that part. it was kind of a puzzle. he wasnt down with that.) he got his older brother " billy goat" ( I have nick names for all the kids.) to get him through it. apparently billy goat wasnt going fast enough for him ( he is 7 by the way. I'm talking about benny. billy goat is 17) so he starts complaining and telling him to hurry up. billy goat gets pissed off and tells him to do it himself. at this point benny throws a bolt, his face turns beet red and starts screaming "you do it" over and over again until my sister interceded. I called him a spoiled brat. I think at that point of the day I was just checking my email. it was one of the first experiences I had today.

next

I decided to try and tackle my health insurance problem. I called medical and they gave me option of a call back which I took. the called me about 20 minutes later the woman I spoke to got me sorted on my medical benefits. she told me to start an online account to send in some paper work that they need from my employer, unemployment, and a statement I have to write out regarding being laid off. after we got done with medical I inquired about calfresh and we started the application process. then the call dropped. there was a call back but it dropped again when I picked up. I decided to start the process of creating my online account. ( *rant alert* the people at social services are unsung heroes and on the front lines everyday. they save people's lives. and they get yelled at and treated badly. I dont envy thier jobs. imagine to have to tell some one who is in dire need and at probably one of the most desperate times in thier lives that they cant be helped because of some regulation or guideline that some rich Republican made to keep people from getting assistance. we are all moochers in thier eyes.)

I'm getting off track.

next I try and create my online account.

1. enter name

enter user name

enter email

enter email again

enter password

enter password again

enter security question 1

enter security question 2

enter security question 3

enter next

somthing goes wrong please re enter password.

re enters password

next

somthing goes wrong please re enter password

re enters password

next

something goes wrong.

removes unacceptable character from password

next

2. enter first name

enter middle initial

enter last name

enter mailing address

select security picture

name security picture

next check e mail

3. select link in email to activate account

enter user name

there is no account with that user name

enter user name

there is no account with that user name

repeat steps 1 and 2

repeat steps 1 and 2

repeat steps 1 and 2

calls social services

although you can read through that rather quickly. it took much longer than that.

it's nice when you fumble through things that you have never done before with virtually no instruction. I may just have thick skull syndrome.

in the mean time the aural assault continues.

I get my call back maybe an hour later and after much explanation i finish my application via phone.

I have to be transferred to another social worker to swear that I have told the truth. they recorded me swearing that I have told the truth. I was terrified that I would be disconnected at the transfer and made the social worker swear that she would call back to see if everything went okay.

she did.

I love her.

as that was going on my sister and the kids went to pick up a pizza order.

they came back with pizza and at that point I say "fuck it" I blow my whole diet to hell. if your gonna die, die with your boots on, right!? that's gonna be hard if I dont have any god damn feet to put in the boots. right?!? (that was rhetorical)

I do it anyways.

I then proceed to have 2 big glasses of coke.

I'm spiked.

I'm like a junky rushing on my run. ( a serious lou reed bite)

I dont care about all the noise or my nephew telling my sister that he isn't gonna spend an hour on his home work.

or the fact that goose doesn't even acknowledge the fact that I'm alive today.

yeah that happend too.

what's up his ass.

I got a good mind to adjust his attitude.

a hi dad, I love you dad would be nice. maybe even to venture as far as giving me a hug would be greatly appreciated.

it's not like I dont need one.

so now I'm going to force my sugar junky emotionally broken ass to start working on my insurance class.

the sonic reducer ain't no fuckin loser mother fucker.

if you dont understand what that means.

figure it out, tough shit.

sincerly

me.

king of the dogs

3/24/20

[ghostinthebau]

GhostInTheBAU’s Fic Masterlist - Criminal Minds, Teen Wolf, Lucifer, and Iron Dad

One Call Away series - Criminal Minds

One Call Away 

Spencer Reid/OMC, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid endgame, 203k words, 32 chapters.

Summary - When Reid's boyfriend attacks him, leaving him broken and bleeding, he calls the first person he thinks of for help. 

He calls the only person he really wants to see. 

He calls Hotch.

Warnings for graphic violence, domestic violence, non-con.

A slow burn recovery/healing fic that has it all: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, sex, and a happy ending. It’s my pride and joy, to be honest.  :)

Unsteady

Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 8.3k words, one shot.

Summary - Spencer feels himself beginning to spiral after the case in Texas, and receiving a subpoena in the mail did nothing to ease his anxiety. He knows he needs help, so he asks Aaron to take him to his first victim support meeting with Carlyle Boone and the Finding Solace group. But will he be able to face the man who reminds him so much of his living nightmare, or will he crumble under all the pressure?

One thing is certain: Aaron will be there for him every step of the way.

Warnings for graphic violence, domestic violence, non-con.

The Honor if Stargazing

Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 9.1k words, one shot.

Summary - Aaron takes Spencer out on their first date—a true and proper date—and shows the genius exactly how he should be treated.

Warnings for mild PTSD symptoms.

Rise

Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 6.1k words, one shot.

Summary - It's been nearly a year since that painful morning when he'd called Hotch, asking his boss for help after waking up in a pool of his own blood; and now that the trial is over and the jury has deliberated, Spencer Reid will finally learn the fate of Parker Simmons, the man who brutally attacked him, raped him, and tried to break him.

Warnings for graphic violence, domestic violence, non-con.

The final installment of the series.

All Night Long On My Bed series - Criminal Minds, Teen Wolf, Lucifer

***** THESE ARE ALL STAND ALONE PORN WITHOUT PLOTS *****

A Virgin, You Say?

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 3.6k words, one shot.  

Summary - “I’ve heard rumors floating around the bullpen lately. People say you’re still a virgin.”

“Maybe you can help me with that….Daddy.”

Under the Pale Moonlight

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 5k words, one shot.

Summary - "Spencer, Love, if you keep teasing me like this I'm just gonna take what I want from you and you won't get to play."

"Oh, please Aaron....do you promise?"

The Genius and the Morning Star

Criminal Minds/Lucifer, Spencer Reid/Lucifer Morningstar, 5k words, one shot.

Summary - “Do you want me to take you right here, Angel?”

“Yes, please. Show me what the devil can do….”

All of Me

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 7.1k words, one shot.

Summary - “I wish you could see yourself right now....”

“Do you like what you see, Aaron? You want me like this, don't you? I think you want me helpless and spread out just for you....”

“Only for me.”

Better Than Fiction

Criminal Minds,  Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 4.3k words, one shot.

Summary - "....W-What?" he gasped, his eyes quickly scanning the words in front of him. "It, it can't be," he shook his head in disbelief, mumbling under his breath, "Is this....is this porn?!? Did Garcia write porn....about me?!?"

Penelope Garcia has a naughty little hobby, and Reid's lucky enough to stumble upon it.

He and Hotch may never be the same again.

Working Lunch

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 5.4k words, one shot.  

Summary - “Tell me what you want. Would you like me to make it hurt more?”

“Y-Yes....please, Aaron, more....I want so much more. I—I want it all....”

“Oh come now....I know you can do better than that. Beg me for it.”

Or....

The one where Aaron and Spencer decide to stay in for lunch.

His Boy

Teen Wolf, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, 2.2k words, one shot. 

Summary - “Come on, Big Bad,” he purred, voice lilting, teasing, taunting, “Is this really all you got? The best you can do? Everything you can give me? Hm?”  

Derek went stone-cold rigid at the provocation, his Wolf clawing at him, snapping just below the surface of his skin, itching to be released, longing to show this boy—his boy—exactly where he belonged.

“Because, silly me, I thought you were supposed to be something scary,” Stiles continued, “Something cold and deadly—violent and dreadful and feared.” A huff of laughter leapt off his sharp-wit tongue; and a smirk danced shrill and cunning through the flow of his sultry voice. “Hell baby, I thought you were supposed to be a fuckin’ Wolf.”

And that was it.

That was the end of Derek’s self-control.

In the Mourning series - Criminal Minds

This House

Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 2.7k words, one shot.

Summary - He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

He was never coming back.

The love of his life had left him, and it had completely shattered his heart….

Warnings for major character death, angst.

Immeasurable Joy

Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 6.3k words, one shot.

Summary -  It's Spencer's first Valentine's Day since Aaron's death, and he finds himself alone in the house he'd shared with his lover.

Warnings for major character death.

Sex Sent Me to the ER (no, seriously) - Sterek (Teen Wolf)

Teen Wolf, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, 21.2k words, 7 chapters.

Summary - “So, what’s going on tonight, Mr. Stilinski?”

“I woke up coughing.”

“Blood,” Derek cuts in, oh so helpfully, “He was coughing up blood.”

“There was a little blood,” he concedes.

-----

Stiles loses his V-Card, and it lands him in the ER.

Derek worries.

Warnings for character injury, medical procedures, a little bit of blood.

Permanent - Sterek (Teen Wolf)

Teen Wolf, Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, 9.7k words, 2 chapters.

Summary - One of Stiles' worst fears comes true, and in his shock he shuts himself off from the rest of the pack. But when a certain moody alpha shows up at his house, worried and a bit annoyed, he breaks down, clinging to the wolf for solace and comfort.

The sort of comfort, it seems, only Derek can provide.

Warnings for terminal illness, underage sex, angst.

For Want of a Dad (in need of a son) - Iron Dad (MCU)

Iron Dad, Peter Parker and Tony Stark, 24.9k words, 7 chapters.

Summary - Peter longs to have a deeper relationship with his mentor, a more meaningful connection; but he's managed to convince himself that the only reason Tony Stark spends any time with him at all is purely because of his enhancement.

Because of Spider-Man.

Warnings for violence, character injury, blood, angst.

Angels on the Moon

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 8k words, one shot.

Summary - “I'm fine, Aaron,” Spencer reassured, turning his hand over and threading their fingers together, “Besides, it's not time yet. I don't wanna go until....”

“Until we see the sunset,” he finished for him.

Reid softly chuckled, “Yeah. I just don't wanna miss any of it.”

Warnings for major character death, angst.

In the Sky of a Million Stars

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 12k words, 3 chapters.

Summary - “It helps.”

The words startled him into silence; and the new voice had his head snapping up, eyes wide, frantically searching the shadows until they landed on a shaggy mop of messy blond hair. Familiar blue eyes stared back at him, and the man they belonged to smiled softly, knowingly. “What?” he asked, wiping at the tears obscuring his vision, “What....what helps?”

“The bullet,” Tobias quickly answered, “It helps to quiet the voices.”

Warnings for mental illness, suicidal ideation, suicide attempts.

Who Let the Genie Out of the Bottle?

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 6.2k words, one shot.

Summary - Aaron Hotchner has had a rough few months, what with his wife leaving him and having to move into a new apartment. He just wants to spend a quiet weekend at home alone.

What he gets is something so much better….

His Familiar Reality

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 1.9k words, one shot.

Summary - He's stopped sweating altogether now. That's probably the most worrisome issue at the moment. Heat stroke has definitely arrived. And as if he wasn't suffering enough, his mind begins to mock him, running through everything he should be doing in order to not die.

Warnings for mental illness, hallucinations.

How an Angel Dies

Criminal Minds, one-sided Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 8.9k words, one shot.

Summary - “Spencer, I'll give you one warning, and I want you to listen very carefully. Don't struggle, don't scream, and most importantly, don't try to run.” He stared down into wide, hazel eyes, misty with unshed tears, and allowed his voice to soften slightly, “This will be far less pleasant for you if you fight me, Sweetheart. Do you understand?”

Warnings for graphic violence, abduction, non-con, mental instability.

Finding Solace

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 13.6k words, 8 chapters.

Summary -  After the Mr. Scratch case, Aaron's having trouble coming to terms with what he saw while drugged. He can't get the sight of Spencer Reid lying dead on the ground out of his head. Will his downward spiral lead to dire consequences for those he holds most dear, or will he be able to pick up the pieces and turn his life around?

Warnings for non-con, drug use, major character death.

My very first fic, and it really shows!  Eeeek!

Fright Night

Criminal Minds, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Remy LeBeau/Spencer Reid, 17.1k words, 4 chapters.

Summary - He’s a hunter, and this boy with the golden brown curls and brilliant hazel eyes is his prey. It’s fate, and it’s love….and it’s forever.

Warnings for graphic violence, vampires, blood drinking, mental coercion, abduction.

Call Me Spencer

Criminal Minds, one sided Spencer Reid/Aaron Hotchner, 17.9k words, 6 chapters.

Summary - Spencer Reid has a crush on Aaron Hotchner. He knows his boss feels the same way. When Spencer gets Aaron alone, he may never let him go….

Warnings for graphic violence, mental instability, captivity, non-con.

Another of my first fics.  Double eeeek!

[blodkru]

Possible Bellarke Story

Hey so this is an excerpt from a story I was considering writing. The basic premise: Bellamy Blake is a cop who’s dealt with the law in more ways than once. More than he’d liked before he joined the force. His social worker sister Octavia can attest to all of it. When a girl, Madi, comes into his precinct begging for help, he has no choice but to enlist the help of his estranged friend Clarke Griffin. They haven’t spoke in over a year and it’s tense. But a girl’s life is in danger and they need to work it out for her sake.

Here’s part of a chapter I wrote at like 2 am. Would anyone read the story?

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

“It is three in the fucking morning, Blake. What do you want?” Maybe calling her wasn’t such a good idea.

“Hey now Princess, I thought you said I could call whenever.” Bellamy grits his teeth at that. He knows he’s already pushing it. Before Clarke can even utter a threat to him, he gets right to it. “Look you’re still a registered foster parent, right?” His eyes drift over to the sleeping preteen at his desk. Her matted hair covers her face as she breathed slowly.

Clarke takes a few seconds too long to answer. “I am. Why, what’s going on?” He can hear her sit up and rustle around. She really must have been asleep for once. “Bellamy?”

He sighed. “I have a kid here. Long story short, what was supposed to just be a domestic call turned into something worse. Kid was caught between parents and I need to find her somewhere to stay tonight. I already called Monty and Harper, but they have their hands full with Jordan and two other kids.” He knows she knows he wouldn’t be calling if he had anyone else. “Octavia is taking on the kid’s case first thing tomorrow but needs to fly in from Polis still. I just need somewhere for the night.” Clarke would never turn down a kid, he knew that. She knew he knew that. Even at three a.m.

“Yeah. My guest room is still being renovated but yeah I can take her.” She’s slightly muffled as she talks. He assumed she was walking around her house with the phone on speaker. A habit that still got on his nerves.

Bellamy slumped against the wall and sighed. The slightest of smiles graced his face. “Thank you, Clarke. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

Which is how Bellamy Blake ends up at the doorstep of a friend he hasn’t spoken to in months. Almost a year, really. The lights are on in the small house. He shifts Madi in his arms carefully. She had been awake for the ten minutes it took to collect her and take her to the lot where his car was. She knocked out the second the engine started. He couldn’t make himself wake her up; after what she’d seen today, the kid had earned the right to sleep as long as she wanted. Though she was small, Bellamy’s arms were hurting just a little when Clarke finally opened the front door.

It really had been a while since they’d seen each other.

It struck him in that brief moment he allowed himself to look her over. Her hair is shorter. Much shorter. And apparently, she’s figured out how to properly put color in her hair. Not like last time when she dyed her whole head red. And her hands. And face. And about everything white she had owned. But she’s still Clarke Griffin. He can see it in her creased eyebrows and the bags under her eyes. In the way she steps aside without a thought and looks worried at the sleeping girl in his arms.

She ushered him inside. Her place looks just about the same as the last time he was there. A year ago. Except now there’s less pictures and she painted the once bright walls. Now they were all white. He tries to dismiss the discomfort it gives him as he follows her. He knows they’re going to her bedroom and wastes no time laying Madi down into the bed. She makes no sound or movement as he settles her into the bed. If anything, she finally relaxes a little. Her face relaxes and she looks like the kid she is. Bellamy can’t help the sick feeling in his stomach. He can’t even begin to imagine the horrors this girl had seen before. All because of her parents.

Clarke, always the caretaker, pays him no mind as she took off the girl’s shoes. The shoes are worn through and the laces are breaking. They look too small for the girl’s feet. Clarke sighed as she tossed the shoes to the ground and does the same with the obviously dirty socks. She’d have to wash them before the teen woke up. Or maybe give her a new pair and burn the old ones. A once over of the girl gives her the answer she needs; new pair. New pair of everything honestly. It looks like there’s a layer of dirt on all of her clothing. And now on Clarke’s bed. She’d have to wash those blankets ASAP.

“Thank you, again.” Bellamy tugged the comforter over Madi and looked at Clarke. “I had no idea what I was going to do, and I couldn’t take her to my place. Not with Miller and Murphy there.” She nodded and looked again at the girl.

“What’s her name? And how old is she? She can’t be a day over eleven, she’s so small.” The urge to brush the girl’s hair from her face hit her. She resisted and clenched her fists.

Bellamy ran a hand over his face. “Madi. We aren’t really sure her last name since her parents weren’t married and we couldn’t find any school records for her. Or any really. And she’s thirteen. Well, she told us she was thirteen but could be off.” Clarke immediately hates the situation. She looks down at the girl again. Her heart clenches and she can’t even imagine what all she has gone through. “This is her file.” He held out a small manila folder she hadn’t seen him holding. “It’s got what everything we know so far and how she ended up at the precinct.” She hesitated to take it.

“Bellamy you know I’m not suppose to look at that.” She’s supposed to be an unbiased party. Only knowing what is essential to keep the child safe. The look Bellamy gives her makes it clear she needs to see it all.

“I wouldn’t have taken this if I didn’t think you needed to know. We need to find a permanent place for her or she ends up in a group home.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Likely remembering the ones he had endured. “I can’t let that happen to her. Not after what she’s been through. I need you to read it all and decide if you can help. I wouldn’t be asking you this in a million years if it wasn’t dire.” He offered her the folder again. This time she took it, her hands clammy. “Call me when she wakes up. I told her she was going somewhere safe, but I doubt she won’t freak out when she realizes she’s somewhere foreign.” Clarke nodded. With that, Bellamy made his way to leave the home. Clarke listened as he walked to the front door and the quiet click of it shutting.

She was alone now. Alone with this kid she knew absolutely nothing about. She held onto the folder just a bit tighter. Who was this girl? What had happened to her?

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

So would anyone be interested in reading?

@and-now-youre-home @bellarke-stydia-olicity @clarkgriffon @ehmori @captainwilldameron @gardenofstories @youleftme-clarke @madigriffen @bellarcat

[leviathanpotato]

She’s not your type - Young!Remus Lupin x oc

Part 2. 

Tag for @imalostredheadinablondeworld

Potential link to part 1 here. I’ve never done a link before so this might not work.

Young Remus Lupin imagine kind of based off ‘You belong with me’  by Taylor Swift. I think i can actually condense this into 4 or 5 parts rather than 6 or 7.

Thanks again to @tooinlovewithfictionalpeople for encouraging me to post this. This is my first Tumblr Fanfic.

Slight language warning

The nightmare lasted three weeks.

In the beginning, each morning Sadie would come down to breakfast to the same scene. James would be snuggling up to Lily as she stared blankly forwards. Sirius would be lounging dramatically as he gossiped to James. Peter would be doing last minute homework as he nibbled on his toast. Then there would be Remus, huddled with his hot chocolate as Harriet jabbered on about herself on his lap.

She used to run right up to them and join them for some last minute toast (she had a habit of getting up five minutes before breakfast ended) but since Remus started going out with her, she slowly began to edge away from them. Harriet’s gang of followers had started to fill the empty space, giving her an even bigger reason to leave. None of them seemed to notice her withdrawing. Each of the five was always preoccupied with something else.

Eventually, she got up well before they did and ate with the Hufflepuffs, finishing her food with enough time to run back to her dorm and avoid them entirely. She attempted to make up for lost time by chatting to them more often in class. Even then, Harriet would still be there to ruin it. A typical conversation would go somewhere along these lines:

She would approach Remus, awkwardly playing with her robes. “Hey Remus, how are you?”

Remus would up and smile softly. “Hi, Sadie. I’m fine thanks.” He would then run his hands with his hair.

She would giggle, mentally cursing herself. “I was wondering if she’d want to hang out sometime in the library.” She’d ask hopefully.

Remus’ eyes would light up and he’d begin to nod.

Enter Harriet.

“Reemy” She’d drawl as Sadie cringed. “Come help me with my work.” She’d say, when she basically meant ‘do everything for me’.

“I was just talking to-” Remus would start to protest, his smile sliding off his face.

“Baby, please.” Then, without giving him a choice, she’d grab Remus’ arm and drag him away, giving her a knowing black glare as he shrugged apologetically. Sirius would roll his eyes next to her.

End scene.

After several attempts at conversation she gave up.

After further isolation, she found herself glancing towards them more often than usual. They were all joking just as much as they used to, but something just seemed off. Remus would be laughing along with them, but with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

That’s because he belongs with someone else, her brain piped up, like yo- FOR FUCKS SAKE WHY?

“MISS JACKSON”

She jumped, flailed, then toppled out of her seat.

Having scrambled to get back up, she were met with the eyes of the entire class and an infuriated Professor McGonagall.

“Yes miss?” She mumbled nervously, scratching the back of her head. She pointedly stared anywhere but her face, but found that even worse as she noticed the marauders barely containing their laughter.

“I am astounded” She seethed, her voice calm but trembling with suppressed rage. “In all my years of teaching, never have I heard such language in my class, let alone shouted as I was talking.”

Her face paled, her mouth falling into a small ‘o’. Whoops, her brain taunted.

“I didn’t intend to say that out loud, miss.” She sheepishly looked up at her, subconsciously starting to tear at her robes.

“Then you weren’t paying attention.” McGonagall snapped, getting all the more impatient and shocked. “You, my top student? Sadie I have no option but to give you a detention, stay behind after class.”

She hung her head, her cheeks pink, and slumped back in her seat. She glanced at the marauders and flashed a smile they all returned. She couldn’t help but notice how Remus’ beam was a little dead eyed and forced.

During detention, she had a lot of time to think - primarily about Remus. Maybe if she just ignored them, her not-crush thing would simply dissipate. Or, her brain added, wait until Harriet leaves him and then you two can live happily ever after.

She clenched her fist and slammed her head on to the desk. She really hated her mind. Maybe if she hit her head hard enough she’d stop thinking altogether.

“Sadie” A stern voice echoed across the room.

She blearily raised her head from the desk. She was meant to be writing lines, but somehow the page was filled with senseless squiggles. Rubbing her aching eyes, she heard the snaps of McGonagall’s heels coming closer. When she lowered her hands, McGonagall had drawn up a chair and sat down in front of her. This time, her gaze was less furious and more motherly.

“I have been a teacher for many years, Sadie, and I’ve seen many students go off the rails. But very rare is it that my most well behaved start failing papers, lose concentration and shout profanities mid lesson.” She raised an eyebrow at her and she squirmed uncomfortably. “There’s always a reason behind such behaviours, is something troubling you?” She asked.

She sighed. “There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

McGonagall raised her eyebrow higher than Sadie thought possible.

“You know, stuff, people, there’s nothing deadly serious. I’m not…” She flapped her hands, in some way hoping that she could convey her thoughts through what was borderline interpretive dance.

McGonagall smiled and nodded in understanding. “Ah, something is stirring up strange emotions.”

“Yes.” She nodded eagerly, thank goodness she got it.

“Or perhaps another student?” She added with a slight smirk.

She knew. Of course she knew. When doesn’t she know?

“Don’t worry professor. I’ll have it sorted, I promise.” She beamed as she waved her out of the class. Upon exiting, she noticed Sirius flouncing nearby in the corridor as she left. Remus was sighing exasperatedly with his hand across his face.

Right, she thought, Sirius hasn’t been eavesdropping at all. She frowned, wondering what his intentions were. She’d always been close and he had this uncanny ability to tell exactly what she were thinking about at all times.

He turned and noticed her, acting so melodramatically shocked she wondered if he was taking the piss.

“Oh good heavens, Sadie! What a surprise!” He flung his arm across his forehead like he was in a Shakespeare play. “Why don’t you walk with us on this fine evening?” He finished with a flourish, ignoring Remus groaning behind him.

She bit back a smile. Clearly this boy had never heard of the words ‘act natural’. “Can’t. Homework.” She responded.

He grinned with a look that clearly said ‘I know your darkest secrets’. “Ok, see you around, my fine friend.”

She waved goodbye to the pair, feeling the pang of guilt that this was the beginning of her very meticulously planned and definitely well thought out plan to avoid four of her closest friends.

However, she was useless at sticking to any plan, and this one was no exception. A few weeks later, she overslept badly. She woke up on a Saturday dazed with just over an hour until breakfast ended. Her hair was a frizzy mess and in dire need of washing. By the time she dragged herself down to breakfast, there was only fifteen minutes to go and the hall was swarming with students. She glanced across the tables, realizing with a sickening jolt that the only space left was in between Sirius and Peter, right across from Remus and his beloved Harriet.

She sidled awkwardly into the gap, slipping her hand across Peter’s textbook to grab the jam and praying that they were too busy to notice her.

“Oh hello Sadie” Peter piped up with a mouthful of toast.

For once, she cursed Peter for being so sweet and quirky. He’d glanced up from a rushed overdue essay with a small smile.

Sirius stopped talking to James, who was too busy nuzzling Lily’s arm to notice. He looked at her with an odd glare.

“Nice to finally see you again, Sadie.” He sat up and folded his arms, raising an eyebrow as he took in her sleep deprived, dishevelled appearance.

“I’ve been having issues.” She tried to explain, nibbling on a croissant that she suddenly decided she couldn’t eat. The food seemed to stick in her throat.

Sirius’ frown softened. Truth be told, she hadn’t kept her promise to McGonagall. She found herself getting more and more sick with worry over Harriet’s controlling nature over Remus. Concentration became even more of a struggle that ever, sleep and schoolwork was going down the drain. All this over a boy? What’s happened to you? She thought.

It was clear as day something was up, Sirius had a sixth sense for his friends emotions.

“Why don’t you join us for Hogsmeade today, before the quidditch final? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” He dragged out the ‘ages’ as he took a large bite out of a muffin.

She were about to agree, but then remembered that by ‘us’ that included Harriet and her harpies.

“I have some essays to catch up on.” She mumbled, not meeting his eyes. Strictly speaking, this wasn’t a lie, she’d been ignoring a lot of her essays for weeks and they’d been piling up drastically. However, she had no intention of completing them.

Sirius saw right through her bullshit. “Why don’t you hang out with us anymore, do you hate us or something? You’ve been ignoring all of us for weeks.” He snapped.

All eyes turned to her and she fidgeted in her seat. She could feel their glares on her skin, prying at her for her secrets. There was a long pause. Anticipation hung in the air.

“Because of me.” A smug voice piped up from the swarm of preening bitches. Sadie flinched.

“You don’t like me at all” She drawled, in a silky tone. Harriet had propped herself up, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised at her and a subtle sneer on her cherry lips.

The other four glanced between both their faces; their hostility towards each other was evident.

“No.” Sadie mimicked her smooth breathy tone. “I guess not”

Her cold voice surprised the others, unused to seeing her seethe with rage whilst remaining eerily calm. Sirius looked mildly amused, Peter was eagerly hanging of each word and James was too busy playing with Lily’s hair. Remus, on the other hand, was pale and his eyes kept flitting between the two of them.

“Why?” Harriet simpered. “You’re the one who stopped hanging round them sweetie, why wouldn’t any of them pick me over you. Are you jealous?”

Warmth crept up Sadie’s neck but she supressed the flush. She steadied her breathing and unclenched her fists. “Remus is just a friend.” She responded with gritted teeth.

Harriet burst into those bubbly giggles Sadie found so grating. She flashed a pitiful smile as though Sadie was a dog about to be euthanized. “Did I say Remus?” She simpered, running a finger along Lupin’s jawline. “I thought I was talking about all of your friends.”

Numbness spread through Sadie as she realised in horror what she’d done. She noticed the shuffles beside her but couldn’t bring herself to look at them. If she did, she felt she’d probably sink into a deep pit of regret.

“My my.” She breathed. “You really are jealous.”

She grasped her chin with her pointed nails and tilted her face up to look at her.

Sadie slapped her hand away. “At least I’m not a slag” She spat, never breaking eye contact as she grabbed her bag and leapt to her feet. “See you, sweetie” She hissed, before turning and marching out the hall, leaving the others to sit there and mull over what the heck just happened

Still to be continued.

[xxx-cat-xxx]

I don´t need to be the hero tonight

Another Iron Man Sickfic. This time he´s in a pretty bad shape both physically and mentally due to a battle lost, but, being Tony, tries to pretend that all is well in front of May and Peter. Set sometime after Spiderman: HC, assuming that May knows about the true nature of Peter´s internship by then. h/c, emeto, that´s it. For anyone wondering, the title is from a song I was listening to while writing (as in the first two fics I wrote).

I´d love to hear what you think about it.

Tony was mentally done with the day before it had even started. But he had promised Peter to accompany him and May on a picnic, and Tony Stark took pride in being man who kept his promises. So, he limped into the elevator that brought him down to the garage, dragged himself into one of his sports cars and set off to pick up his protégé .

He groaned when he left the highway and turned into a road filled with potholes that marked the entrance to Peter´s neighbourhood. Tony was hurting all over - nothing too serious, but enough to make him more than uncomfortable, especially when the car wanted him to witness every bump in the pavement.

He had taken heavy hits in the fight the day before, was covered in bruises and still bleeding from small to medium-sized wounds in several places. He was probably lightly concussed - at least the pounding ache in his head and the slight nausea in his stomach told him so, but he couldn´t be sure since he had not bothered to consult medical after the battle had taken a turn from bad to worse.

But to be honest, the headache might also stem from the indecent amounts of scotch in which he had tried to drown his anger after reaching back, or from the fact that he had just completed his third sleepless night in a row. He had actually planned on getting to bed early yesterday, not wanting to show up all zombie-like on Peter´s doorstep, but the debrief-turned-lecture had taken till 2 in the morning, and then his armour had been in dire need of repair, which was something he never, ever put off to later.

When he had been done mending the suit, the sun had already been up, and weighing the benefits of two hours napping against the amount of energy it would have taken to drag himself out of bed, he had opted for a long shower and a few cups of coffee in front of the TV instead. Which had done nothing to improve his mood, since footage of the inglorious battle had been playing up and down on every single channel in the country.

When he pulled up in front of May´s appartment, Peter was already waiting outside, and he couldn´t help but smirk at the happy smile on the kid´s face. He tried to get out of the car as smoothly as possible, but his swollen left knee protested at the movement and he couldn´t suppress a wince when he stood. Peter noticed and opened his mouth to ask, but Tony cut him off when May appeared.

“Pete, you never told me you were hiding a secret sister somewhere?” he joked, waving at May.

“And he never told me that you left engineering and are doing professional boxing now?” she rebutted, taking in the impressive shades of red and blue that decorated Tony´s face, before giving him a tight hug. “It´s nice to see you, Tony.”

As soon as they were sitting in the car, Peter started questioning him.

“What happened yesterday, Mr Stark? You got pretty beaten up, didn´t you?”

Tony frowned while turning down the heavy metal blarring from the car´s speakers. “Ya, kid, not really our most glorious moments. Would rather we don´t talk about it now?”

“But you should have called me! I could have helped, I-”

“No way, kiddo.” Tony gave him a serious look through the rear mirror. “That yesterday was NC-17, that was way above your paygrade. Apart from that, you had an exam, didn´t he?” He nodded in May´s direction for confirmation.

“Phh...” Peter blew out air angrily.

“Still, Tony”, May said in a softer voice, “you look pretty pale, are you alright? We saw you being thrown into that building on TV, Peter was worried all night you wouldn´t show up...”

“Hey, I wasn´t  really - that´s not fair,” Peter interrupted her, his face flushing red.

“I´m good”, Tony said, blinking away his ever-growing headache “Have a little faith, it takes more than a few criminals gone wild to bring down Iron Man.”

---

May and Peter had tried hard to produce a perfect picnic, and Tony felt guilty about how he just couldn´t really bring himself to enjoy. He pretended alright, chatting away, cracking jokes and having a competition with May about who could embarass Peter the most. He complimented May on her dress (which was in fact very nice) and the homemade food she´d brought (which was not). But in between, he could feel his mind drifting back to the battlefield, replaying the scenes, thinking about what he could have done different to yield a better outcome.

But the truth was, with a team that practically only consisted of him, Nat and his armours, with Rhodey on comm duty since he still hadn´t been cleared to fight, there was only so much he could do in a situation where they were significantly outnumbered. He didn´t want to admit it, but they would have needed Steve Rogers out there. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He felt himself grow more and more tired over the course of the morning, the lack of sleep finally catching up with him. Every muscle in his body was aching, the bruises and cuts throbbing in the rhythm of his heartbeat. His head was definitely hurting bad now, the too-bright summer sun constantly sending jolts of pain through his brain, and he wished he´d brought some Excedrin. He briefly considered asking May whether she carried any painkillers, but he didn´t want to give himself away, didn´t want to ruin the lighthearted atmosphere by getting them worried over him.

When they finally made to leave, he stood up too fast while trying to help May fold the picnic rug, and the world suddenly dissolved into pixels of blackness. Tony felt himself swaying on his feet, grasped for something to steady himself and only found Peter´s arm. He held onto it tightly while the ground tilted away from him and reality took too long to reassamble in front of his eyes.

When he could see halfway clearly again, he was on the ground, May and Peter hovering over him, their faces tainted with concern. So much for not getting them worried.

“Tony? Can you hear me?” May asked.

“Yeah, I can. I´m sorry, I´m alright”, he breathed while slowly sitting up, feeling shaky and stupid.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Peter asked, his voice high and shrill in Tony´s ears.

“I just, kind of, got dizzy for a moment.” He took the hand Peter offered to pull himself upright, trying to look like he didn´t need it, trying not to let vertigo bring him down again, and trying not to put too much weight on his bad knee.

“You didn´t sleep last night, did you?” the kid asked.

Tony´s silence was answer enough.

“Okay, we´ll get you home and then you rest, Tony.” May said with an authority in her voice Tony hadn´t noticed before. “Just get into the car, I´ll drive us back.”

“Hey, this is a very expensive model, dont break anyth- ” he was cut off with a glance that made him understand why Peter would sometimes be afraid of that woman. He briefly considered insisting that he should drive - it was is car, after all - but then deemed it not worth the argument. Also, he had to admit that he was probably not in the condition to walk a straight line right now, let alone operate a vehicle. He was seeing everything through a blurry haze, and things seemed to be moving at a lower speed than they usually did.

They drove in silence. Tony was too exhausted to come up with anything to say, and Peter, who was sitting at the back with him, was evidently unsure about how to behave. He kept on shooting him worried glances every few seconds until Tony had enough of it.

“Geez, kid, stop glaring. I´m not gonna pass out on you.” It came out harsher than intended. God, he was tired. And nauseous. He was starting to taste May´s homemade blueberry cake at the back of his mouth, and he desperately wished that they would make it back fast.

Peter just looked at him, a little sadness in his eyes. “That wasn´t what I was thinking about. It´s just...you need to start taking care of yourself, Mr Stark. You just keeled over and I, I-” he broke off, looking at May for help.

“Noone would have been angry if you had called the picnic off today, Tony.” she said quietly. “Of course we want to spend time with you, but we would have understood if you had taken the day off to rest.”

Tony knew they were right. But he also knew that the person they were talking about, a person who would cancel commitments just because he´d taken a few hits and hadn´t slept a while, was not and never could be Iron Man. So he didn´t reply, instead opting to lean his aching neck back against the headrest and close his eyes.

---

He woke up to his stomach turning over when May took a particularly narrow curve. “Shit”, he cursed under his breath. That was definitely not how the day was supposed to go. He fought down a gag, tasting bile at the back of his mouth.

“May, pull over, please - “ he urged, swallowing heavily. May took only a few seconds to bring the car to a hold at the side of the forest road. He scrambled through his brain for a viable excuse while unbolting his seat belt with shaky fingers, but he couldn´t find any. There was no time, anyways. He felt cold sweat breaking out over his brow while his stomach went into contraction.

He stumbled out of the car and limped a few meters into the forest as fast as he could, desperate to get out of eyesight, before he bent over and retched violently. He brought up undigested food he had eaten at the picnic, the smell of it making him even more nauseous. He heaved again, pain zig-zagging through his body, his worn out muscles protesting against the strain. His head was threatening to burst into pieces.

It took what felt like years for his stomach to empty itself, and Tony was trying to catch his breath when he heard Peter´s voice hesitantly calling out from behind him.

“Mr Stark, do you need help?”

“I´m good, kid” Tony croaked, his voice hoarse from retching. “Be right back, don´t come he-”

“Oh. Yikes.” Peter stepped out from behind a tree, cringing when he saw the mess on the ground.

“Told you not to come here.” Tony said weakly, wiping a shirt sleeve over his mouth and leaning heavily against a tree when vertigo made the world sway again.

“I´m okay, just, give me a minute.” he breathed, “and please don´t let May see me like this, seriously.”

“Ya, she´s not stupid. She sent me to check you´re not dead.” He took in Tony´s trembling form, frowning. “Not sure what to tell her, though.”

“I´m just....” he trailed of, unable to bring himself to lie to the kid again. “Fine, I´m not okay right now. But I will be, I promise.” He breathed in slowly. “Just took a bad beating yesterday, and I´m not good at losing. But it´s not the first time, and I´m gonna get over it. Just please don´t worry so much, Pete.”

Tony glanced over at him, trying for it not to look pleading. He was hurting everywhere, feeling like he might pass out or puke again any minute, couldn´t get that god-damn fight out of his head, and on top of it all, he had managed to get the kid genuinely upset over his lack of self-care. He had failed on all levels, and he just couldn´t handle all the emotions raining down on him right now. 

Peter seemed to look right through him for a minute.

“You want some water?” he offered finally, and Tony gratefully took the bottle to rinse his mouth. He allowed Peter to put a supporting arm around his shoulders while they slowly made their way back to the car.

“You know, Mr Stark,” Peter said when they had nearly reached the street where May was waiting, “I get it that you are upset about that battle. But... I saw the footage on TV. And if I just one day in my life put up a fight like you did yesterday, I´d be really proud of myself.”

And for the first time that day, Tony felt himself hiding not only his pain, but a genuine smile from Peter Parker.

[dezembergirl]

Hangover

the last part of the Paradise Series (prior part)

I really want to continue writing, especially now that I have more free time, so if you have a prompt, idea or wish for something you’d like me to write drop by in my Asks and I’ll make sure to write more stories!

Also, this is not limited to the Norwegian Skam, I’d love to write something for Charles/Manon, Incantava or any of the other!

as always dedicated to @nonibanoni‘s idea <3

Fandom: Skam

Pairing: Noorhelm

Summary: the morning after William’s night out ended on Noora’s dorstep; featured Noora, Pancakes and a hell of a hangover

originaly posted to AO3

Sunday came with clear skies and a headache the size of five rounds of shots paid for by Chris. He rolled onto his stomach and padded the nightstand for his phone. In the darkened room the brightness of the display felt like a stab to his skull and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

The pounding in his head kept at a steady pace and pulling one of the pillows over his ears only intensified the sensation. His mouth tasted like a badly mixed cocktail of vodka, gin and the lingering stench of cigarets. In conclusion, he felt like a piece of shit and the thought of doing school work, which he had delayed until the last weekend, made him want to curl up in bed and stay there for at least another 12 hours.

He let his heart rate calm down before he attempted sitting up and risking another glimpse at his phone to look at the time - ten past eleven. He ran his hands through his hair, getting rid of the worst of the tangles and deciding that he was in dire need of a mirror and a toothbrush. And he must have really been out of it because it was only when he pressed his head against the pillow in one last attempt of blocking out his hangover that he finally noticed the familiar note of lavender. Dumbstruck, he inspected the other side of his bed and although it was subtle, there was a slight indentation in the mattress. It made sense now, she must have closed the blinds and been the one to plug in his now fully charged phone either last night or after she woke up.

On that thought, he jumped out of bed - if you could call stumbling onto one’s feet jumping - and the sudden flight of panic carried him down the corridor and toward the main living room. His mind was already flashing back to the first time she had slept over at his apartment and fled without so much as a note the next morning. The fact that he was not entirely sure how she had ended up in his bed in the first place did nothing to calm the rising sensation of dread in his stomach. He might have done or said something incredibly stupid.

Thankfully, that particular train of thought did not continue because when he stepped into the kitchen there she was, bent over the opposite counter scooping flour into a measuring cup. She had twisted her wet hair into a bun and he recognized the t-shirt that clung to her hips as one of his. He slumped against the door frame and traced her movements while she mixed the flour and milk. Now that the pounding in his head had receded he was left with a sensation of numbness that gave this whole experience a surrealistic touch. Noora was actually here, preparing pancakes in his kitchen and humming a tune he could not place at that moment. He would have most likely remained like that for longer, had Noora not turned around with the mixing bowl in her hands, ready to start pouring the batter into the pan.

Her eyes widening slightly and she stopped mid-motion, almost as if she had forgotten she was not alone. And for a moment, William felt the panic reignite before her open mouth curved upwards and she crooked her head to side.

"Good morning,“ Noora tugged at her bottom lip and he felt his head spin.

"You’re still here.“

"Yes,“ she said matter of factly and moved to set the bowl down next to the stove top.

Deciding not to push his luck with whatever stupid thing he would come up with next he pushed off of the door frame and joined her at the counter. Noora turned to face him and obliged a little peck before pressing a firm palm to his chest.

"You definitely need a toothbrush,“ she tapped the glass and packet of Aspirin next to her on the counter. "And this.“

He dissolved the Aspirin in as little water as he could manage and drowned the whole thing in one go. His face must have shown his disgust before he could fill the glass with more water to wash away the vile taste because Noora giggled and gave his cheek a pinch. He chuckled and despite her protests pulled her into an embrace to kiss both her temples. "Thank you for this.“

"Well, you still had flour and one carton of unexpired milk. So yeah, I had to take advantage of that, especially since Eskild hasn’t gotten groceries since Wednesday and the shops are closed until tomorrow. So not that selfless, really.“

"Still, this is really nice.“

"But,“ she angled her head away from him. „You'll only get some if you go take care of this,“ her fingers pushed along his jawline and into his hair „situation first.“

He leaned his forehead against her collarbone with a muffled groan. Defying his expectations she did not smell like her usual lavender body mist but the much darker sent of his own body wash. He liked that smell on her, he decided. But when he nuzzled his nose deeper Noora squealed and pushed him away before he could attempt to put another kiss on her exposed neck. "I said toothbrush.“

The tiles in the bathroom were coated with water drops and the humid air clung to every surface and his skin. Noora could not have been up for long as the mirror was misted over and he grabbed a towel to get a better look at his reflection. He supposed it could be worse, his skin creased around his eyes but the dark circles should be reversible with some moisturizer and hydration. In his haste to get to bed yesterday he had not bothered to brush through his hair before showering and now the longer strands had tangled into a sizable knot in the front. He grabbed his toothbrush from next to where the one, he had given Noora to use a week ago, lay and went to work.

Now that his mouth tasted more like peppermint than cigarets and his hair had conformed to an acceptable shape he threw on a fresh hoodie and checked his phone. There were no unread messages and only two new emails with his Uber receipts. He pushed it into his hoodie’s front pocket and joined Noora in the kitchen. She had turned up the radio to the morning program and flipped the last pancake over in the pan.

"Feeling better?“ she added the thin piece to the stack of already cooked pancakes and flicked off the stove.

"After a kiss, I will,“ she raised her eyebrows but allowed him to press her up against the counter. His hands found her waist through the t-shirt and he moved to kiss her.

"Did you brush?“ she tilted her head to the side.

"Of course,“ William took a deep breath in and breathed the resulting air into her face.

"Oh my god,“ her mouth dropped open and then quickly closed as she pushed away from him with a flash of laughter. "You’re disgusting.“

He took the plate of pancakes and the only jar of jam in his cupboard - strawberry - and joined her at the table. She had already set out the plates and a glass of orange juice for each of them.

They ate in relative silence except for her protests when he would reach to squeeze her thigh and she would swat him away with a playful smile. William was by no standard a slow eater but he had barely finished his first pancake when Noora was already spreading the jam and folding up her third one. She had strawberry marks in both corners of her mouth that strangely enough reminded him of her red lipsticks.

"Are you in a rush?“

"Huh,“ she looked up and darted her tongue out to clean the jam off her lips. "I just have to write the article that’s due tomorrow. And I didn’t even finish the introduction yesterday. So yeah, kinda.“

His expression dropped and he swallowed the piece of pancake to cover of his disappointment. "You didn’t have to stay you know.“

"Well, you were so disappointed last time,“ he bit his lip.

“I didn’t mean to pressure you into staying or anything,“ he said.

"It’s not like that,“ she dropped her fork and gave him a smile. “I just didn’t think it would have been smart to leave you alone last night.“

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad. I can remember most of it.“

Now her smile had turned into a full-blown smirk. “So you do remember drooling onto your pillow?“

“I did not do that,“ he felt the heat turning the tips of his ears red and rearranged his hair accordingly. Most of last night had come back to him, but there were blurry spots left. He just had not expected to hear something like this.

“I mean, it was kind of cute,“ she was tugging at her lip again and twisting the sleeve around her wrist. “But I’m guessing, this not how you usually get girls into bed?“

He groaned and rubbed at his temples. „What else did I do?“

The crumbs and bits of jam left on his plate suddenly became very interesting. He knew Noora was enjoying this and he supposed he deserved that. He remembered driving home with her and getting into bed but god knows what else happened before and in between that.

“Well, for starters you drunk texted me,“ he scoffed and Noora only laughed and ticked each event off on her fingers. “Then I found you half passed out on my porch at like 2 am and you called an Uber. You showered and we went to bed.“

“That’s all? We didn’t like, you know …,“ he trailed off not sure how to properly mold his concern into a question. He would not be able to forgive himself if he had fucked it all up after weeks of being so careful. She did not want to take whatever this was between them any further than making out in his bed and though he admittedly desired more of course, he would always respect her wishes. He loved cuddling with her, kissing her senseless and making her laugh. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction.

“Oh umm, not really. You were out in seconds and yeah you drooled but I already told you that.“ Noora had pushed the sleeve of his shirt all the way up around her elbow and her complexion had turned from pale to light pink.

His chest deflated with relief and he pushed the last piece of folded pancake into his mouth. Noora took the plates and put them in the dishwasher together with the mixing bowl and measuring cups. Despite the Aspirin he still lagged behind in speed as he helped her clean up the kitchen and start the dishwasher. After making sure the surfaces were spotless Noora got her bag from the sofa and made to lace up her shoes.

“You’re leaving?“

“The essay thing, remember. I sadly wasn’t joking about that,“ she fiddled with her hair ties and pulled the knot on her head apart to let her still damp waves fall down past her chin.

“I mean I did offer to help you with it yesterday. I wasn’t joking about that either.“

“I’m serious William I need to finish this today.“

“I am too. You can write it here, I have some work to do as well. So as long as you don’t distract me I won’t keep you from your work either.“

“I didn’t even bring my laptop or anything,“ her backpack already swung over one shoulder, Noora stared at him with that familiar look in eyes that could pass for annoyance. She was seriously debating his offer.

“You can use mine, for now, I won’t need it until later. And then mail it yourself when you’re done.“

Noora stayed quiet and pushed her bottom lip in and out of her mouth.

“What’s your assignment?“

“Heart rhythms.“

“Okay, so my brother went through a couple of months was he was dead set on studying medicine. Because you know it’s very prestigious to be a doctor and whatnot. Anyways, he bought a couple of books he never opened and they're still around here somewhere.“

Noora considered him with narrowed eyes for a moment, probably deciding that this was way too elaborate to be a lie and finally lowered her backpack back down.

“Okay,“ she drew the word out and William wasn’t sure if she was annoyed with him, herself or the situation in general.

“Great,“ he reached for his laptop on the coffee table and put it down next to her.

True to his own word, his brother kept a small collection of medical books in one of the half-empty storage cupboards. He surveyed the titles and picked out a 2014 edition human physiology textbook.

Noora had settled down on one end of the couch, encircled in an impressive amount of paper and markers she must have produced from her bag in the two minutes he had been gone. She was bent over a black and white copy of different EKGs and a heart diagram.

“So, you are staying then?“ William dropped onto the couch next to her.

“I guess so. But you’ll have to make me hot cocoa later,“ she looked up from her notes and he was relieved to find any traces of her prior annoyance wiped from her features.

“Of course.“

He cupped her jaw and pushed his fingers into her loose hair before dipping down for a kiss. It made his chest swell with heat and his skin prickled with the excitement of having her all to himself for the rest of the day. Noora hummed against his lips and laced her hands around his neck to pull her body closer to his. In the end, she was only inches away from fully straddling his lap and the kiss had turned from innocent to something completely different in a matter of seconds.

One of his hands rested on her hips and the other had pushed his shirt halfway up her stomach before he pulled away with a painful groan. His own body protested when he gently disentangled himself from her and she came to rest on the couch next to him with an exasperated sigh.

„Why did you stop?“ Noora combed through the mess he had made of her hair and wiped over her pink and slightly swollen lips.

„Because,“ he reached over for his laptop and typed in his password before handing it back to her. „We agreed on no distractions, and you,“ he gave her one last peck „are extremely distracting.“

„Ass,“ she made a show of swatting away his hand, but ultimately did not protest when he pulled her legs across his lap and started to trace patterns against her bare skin.

He had never thought it possible that a Sunday filled with school work into the late evening hours could be this enjoyable.

[the-jade-cross]

The Lannister Wolf - Part 2 Chapter 2

Day 1

Zinzi perked her head up. The sun was not yet up, but she felt that something was off. She set off a soft growl in her throat and Lady woke, perking her ears up. She heard it too…. The silence. Usually when they woke up, they would hear the steady breathing of Evelyn or they would feel her feet moving under her. When they both lifted their heads and looked around, they remembered where they were. They were not laying on the king-sized bed in King’s Landing. They were in the middle of the wilderness.

The two wolves were on their feet in an instant and smelling around the camp. The spot where Evelyn had fallen asleep the night before was empty and her bedroll was rolled up and ready to go. The scent of her was still there but the warmth that the girl had left behind was long gone.

Lady stuck her nose in the air and smelt the air. Her smell still lingered but didn’t say where she had gone off to.

Suddenly, they heard a twig snap behind them, and both turned to see their mistress standing there. She was panting, having just come back from an eight-mile run. She was sweating but she had a smile on her face.

“Morning Zinzi, Lady,” she greeted, coming to pet both of them. “Sorry if I worried you.” Zinzi gave her owner a look as if to say ‘Nah, you didn’t worry us in the slightest’. Evelyn smiled.

“Come on, we should at least try to get seventy miles in. That will give us about a three-day journey to mother and Robb.” Both wolves looked at her skeptically at this, but Evelyn just shrugged, “What? The average person can travel fifty miles a day. The extra twenty are partially because we are running for our lives, we’re fugitives and there are only three of us…. Well technically only one because you two aren’t humans and you could travel a hundred miles in a day if you wanted to. We could make ninety miles, but I have a tendency to slow down when I’m hungry…. Or tired…. You get my drift.” Zinzi huffed but Lady nuzzled her white nose against Evelyn’s hand to show her support which brought a smile to the girl’s face.

“Come on.” With that, Evelyn grabbed her satchel, swinging it onto her hip and pulled her backpack onto her back. She was about to load the sat that contained the lightweight leather but Zinzi approached her, giving her a firm look. Evelyn didn’t need to understand dire wolf to know what she was trying to say.

“Thank you,” Evelyn said, tying the sack to Zinzi’s back so that it wouldn’t wobble and cause issues. “Let me know if you want me to carry it.” After scuffling the leaves in their campsite so no one would see that they had lain there, the three headed back through the woods, heading due Northwest.

*******

They stopped after about thirty miles to stop for a midday meal. Evelyn had eaten a light breakfast while walking and had stopped a few times to water and to let the wolves run off and catch a squirrel to eat.

Now, Evelyn sat leaning against a tree, enjoying some bread and salted ham Shae had packed her while the wolves took a nap. She finished her meal before leaning back. They could spare thirty minutes of rest before they traveled the last leg before nightfall. It was barely noon anyway.

Reaching into her pack, she drew out the three knives that Tyrion had given her to pack as well as her dual swords. She couldn’t risk anyone recognizing them. The daggers held the Lannister crest etched into the metal and the golden, red hilts gave them away immediately. The same went for the swords. They had been gifts from her father and were Stark weapons to the hilt. The hilts were silver and blue while the blades were etched with the Stark sigil.

Evelyn glanced over at the wolves. It would be better to make a small fire at night. That way no one would see the smoke and she could use stones and logs to ensure that no one saw the light.

Sighing, she stuffed the daggers away and slipped the dual swords onto her back before grabbing the sack. She laid out the leather she had procured and pursed her lips. It wouldn’t be enough to make all the elements of an outfit. She would need an inner layer of black as well. A thought came to her and digging through her backpack, she drew out one of the extra pairs of pants, shirt and an extra cloak that were all black. Perfect!

She laid out her articles before standing up and circling them. What was the style going to be? The outfit had to make sense. She couldn’t use leather for the pieces that needed more flexibility, but she needed to make sure it was weatherproof and protected her from unwanted eyes. Also, it couldn’t be too similar to a Lannister, Baratheon or Stark outfit…. Or any other style for that matter. It had to be foreign… its own genre and race.

The girl searched through her bags but realized that the only form of writing she brought was a notebook and charcoal pencils but that wouldn’t do because the things she needed to write on were black! Standing up, she began to scan the ground carefully. They were near a riverbed. Maybe there was a rock nearby that gave off a white pigment. She searched for what felt like forever until she located two small rocks that gave off a thick, dusty white color when she rubbed them hard.

Rushing back to their rest stop, she saw that the wolves had roused themselves and were gorging on a rabbit. Sitting down opposite them, Evelyn sat cross-legged until she realized that it strained her stomach and actually hurt so she sat with her legs underneath her. Leaning forward on one hand, she began to lightly draw on the black material, trying to visualize how it would look. After a few tries, she wiped the articles clean and grabbing a piece of paper and charcoal, she began to sketch. Soon she had a small collection of rolled up paper that had been failed attempts. Finally, she groaned and sat back.

“What do you think girls?”

Lady rose to her paws and sniffed at the failed attempts. She rolled the balls back over to Evelyn before peering at her with a question in her big eyes. Evelyn reached down and grabbing up the balls, unrolled them and looked at them each in turn. She then looked at Lady who was watching her intently.

“Use all the ideas?” Evelyn asked.

Lady nuzzled her nose into Evelyn’s lap and the girl smiled, “When did you get to be so wise?”

Evelyn then set back to work and soon she had the sketch she wanted. She realized that they had been there longer than they intended and quickly packed up everything carefully into the sack, putting the drawing and white stones in her satchel before they set back to the road.

That Night

The wolves’ eyes glowed in the faint firelight as Evelyn stoked it cautiously. She had piled stones all around the fire and made a sort of cave over it so as to hide the flames and also to keep the heat as close to the fire as possible. When she was sure it was hot enough, Evelyn grabbed her daggers. She knew for a fact that Starks and Lannister’s built swords so that there was metal in the hilts to prevent the hilts from snapping. She carefully used her hunting knife and pried the small pieces of metal that wound around the hilts so they wouldn’t be lost in the fire. She placed them in her lap before carefully removing the small gems on the hilts as well. When she finished, she tossed the two daggers into the blueness of the fire.

Turning back to the hilts of her dual swords, she saw that there were small droplets of silver that lined the hilt as well as some thin, light metal and gems. It took her longer to pry those off but soon she finished and placed the swords in the flames as well.

While waiting for the weapons to get soft, she looked down at her lap where she now had a collection of small gems, droplets of silver and small strings of metal. A thought came into the girl’s mind and she grabbed the notebook again, turning to a clean page and began to draw more ideas.

It was well into the night and the wolves were sound asleep when Evelyn grabbed two nearby sticks and used them to pull the daggers out of the flames. They were both red hot from the flames. Carefully she placed them on a pile of stones she had piled together and reaching into the sack, drew out the hammer and the shears. Using the shears to hold one of them still, she used the hammer to pound the daggers until she had folded the knives in quarters and hammered them so hard that they were basically just small blocks of steel.

Grabbing the two blocks of metal with the sheers, she dug a shallow hole in the earth and buried them so they would cool without catching anything on fire. She placed a white rock over them so she would remember where she buried them before she returned to the fire.

Drawing the swords out, she saw that the wooden part of the hilts had burnt off and now, just like the daggers, she was left with long sharp pieces of steel. It took longer to pound the swords into blocks but soon she did and had to dig a bigger hole to bury them. When she was done, she covered the flames with earth to extinguish it before she fell off to sleep.

She felt Lady curl up on her left while Zinzi took up the right, laying her head on Evelyn’s stomach.

“We have to put the past behind us girls,” Evelyn breathed. “All we have left is about seven more months until this child is born…. After that…. To man we will not be seen as humans…. But as spirits.”

******

Day 2

Evelyn woke up later than she had the day before, which she blamed mostly on her staying up rather late melting down her weapons. She was glad though she still had the wooden longbow and quiver of arrows. She wasn’t going to do anything to them even though they screamed Winterfell and Stark. She needed something to hunt with and protect herself. Once she got to Robb and her mother, she would find something that wouldn’t appear suspicious.

The girl relit the small fire she had made the night before after Zinzi and Lady returned from morning hunting with a rather large carcass of a deer and two bunnies. She left the bunnies to them while she skinned the deer, cooking the meat over the fire and washing the skin in the river. She used the skin as a second sack and separated the contents of the first sack between the two, giving one each to Lady and Zinzi so that Zinzi didn’t have to carry the one sack all by herself.

When they finished the first twenty miles, Evelyn picked up the pace to a slow jog and to the wolves’ puzzlement, ran the next ten miles before they stopped for their midday rest. Evelyn had set to work sketching out the smaller pieces of her outfit from her cloak and chose where to take the seams in on her shirt and pants, so they were snugger.

That evening they stopped just short of sixty-five miles but both wolves could tell that Evelyn was exhausted and the girl couldn’t go any further.

The girl fell asleep instantly against a tree, dozing off easily. Several hours later she woke to the sound of Lady digging at something. She had been chasing a squirrel, only for the critter to take refuge under a large slab of rock nearby. Rising to her feet, Evelyn walked over and lifted the rock for the wolf, only for Lady to discover that the squirrel had found a backway exit.

As Evelyn dropped the stone back to its position, she noted how the rock wasn’t iron hard but almost soft and smooth. Running her fingers over it gently, a thought came to her.

Grabbing her hunting knife, she began to carefully chisel into the stone, only to realize that it wasn’t brittle and didn’t flake…. But was actually rather decent chiseling stone.

Sitting down next to the rock, she began to chisel away at the rock to pass the time, only to realize about an hour later that she had built a rather intriguing design. Grabbing her notebook, she opened to a new page and sketched the thing she had chiseled onto the page and held it up. She looked over at Lady who was watching her and held the book out to the wolf. Lady eyed it suspiciously, not sure what Evelyn was trying to say.

Evelyn looked around before turning to Lady, “Can you find another one of these?” she asked, holding out a handful of the rock’s fragments.

Lady sniffed the rock before she dragged her nose along the ground, sniffing out any similar smells. While she was doing that, Evelyn returned to her chiseling to take care of the fine-tuned parts and to ensure that everything was even.

Soon, Lady returned and began to tug at the girl’s jacket with her teeth. Evelyn followed the white wolf, only for Lady to lead her about ten meters out of the camp to where the wolf had indeed found another similar slab of stone, but this one was thinner and smaller in diameter but that did not cause an issue.

Evelyn tested out the weight of the rock and realized it wasn’t more than her own weight. Carefully she pushed the rock back into camp and over to where the other rock was. Lady laid down next to her sister while Evelyn returned to her chiseling. She didn’t care that her eyes were getting tired, she needed to finish this tonight for they would be moving on in the morning.

Lady fell asleep to the sound of her mistress chiseling away at stone. She only woke up again about an hour later when Evelyn began to build another dome of rocks, building a small fire inside and making sure it was as hot as magma inside.

Shuffling through her bags, Evelyn drew out her two largest blocks of metal which had once been her dual swords. She went hunting through her bags until she came upon the small cauldron that Shae had packed her. Evelyn had told her that the chances of her needing a cauldron were slim, but the maid had insisted that you never knew when you needed a good pot of soup. Now, Evelyn was glad she had packed it.

Stuffing the metal blocks into the cauldron, she placed the thing in the fire, right in the center and using a stick, pushed the fire red coals all around it till it surrounded the cauldron.

“I’m a regular witch brewing a magic potion huh?” the girl asked Lady who was looking at her with interest.

While the metal melted into goop, Evelyn headed back to the two slabs of stone. Since the second stone was thinner than the first one, the design she had etched into it was shallower than the first stone. With minor difficulty she lifted the thinner stone onto the first one and using markings on the side of the stones, ensured that the two designs she etched into the stones were lined up perfectly. When she was sure of this, she grabbed the hammer and an arrow before carefully chiseling out a hole in the middle of the top slab. When she hit home, she blew into the hole, so no rock particles got in the way.

Soon she heard the metal in the cauldron popping from the heat and rushing back, she lifted the cauldron out with the end of her bow since she trusted it to not snap from the weight.

Careful so as to not spill the metal, nor to burn herself, the girl carried the cauldron over to the two rocks. Placing the cauldron on top of the slabs, she used two shorter sticks and tilted it till the liquid metal poured into the hole. Evelyn waited with bated breath until the last drop of metal poured out of the cauldron into the hole. Grabbing a nearby stick, she lit it on fire and hovered it over the hole, peering down. She smiled when she saw that there had been just the right amount of metal: not too much and not too little.

Finishing that up, she grabbed the cauldron and turning it upside down, placed it back in the fire so that the excess metal would melt and drain out of the cauldron. Evelyn packed up the things she wouldn’t need in the morning before falling asleep with herself smushed between Zinzi and Lady. She fell asleep to the sound of the fire crackling whenever the metal dripped into the flames. She hoped it would be a cold night.