#woke up with a cramp on my legs and my toes curled so i knew it was a sign he was doing something iconic and ground breaking.

[hyunpic]

press photos of hyunjin at the airport

[hurting-fictional-people]

Sooo, I think this is turning into an actual story guys. I have ideas for where this can go and one of them needs names to work so... yeah they are becoming OCs... Whumpee, Caretaker and Whumper are getting names next part because I’m indecisive and need to think on it lol but for this one, since I’ve been giving them more thought and shape: they are all men and the pronouns are ‘he’ now, okay? 

CW: needle mention, medical setting, infected wound, restrained and collared, held hostage, lots of angst because this is what this whole thing is about in the end, isn’t it?

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer @swift-perseides @whump-it-like-its-hot (please tell me if you want me to stop or start tagging you <3)

Continued from here

-

There was a time when Whumpee could move and not feel pain because of it. When it didn’t hurt to do so much as breathe. There was a time when time didn’t blend together in an endless daze of please help me, it hurts.

He knows exactly where the pain comes from, that spot a knife had gone inside of him… days before? Weeks? But by now, it has spread along his entire body, and it all just hurts so much.

If only he could press his hands against the wound, see if it looks as ugly as it feels. If only he could curl up and sob. If only his hands weren’t tied above his head and he could move at all, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

His fingers have gone cold and numb what feels like hours before. He shifts and squirms but it only makes his wound burst in pain and barely anything for his aching arms. After some time, the pain is in his legs as well and if only he could move, just for a moment, it would be so much better. 

His head hangs awkwardly to the side, unable to move more than a few inches, kept close to the wall by the metal collar around his neck. He can’t sleep with it, because each time he does, his head hangs and he wakes up suffocating. He can’t move, because it hurts. All he can do is hope Whumper doesn’t forget he’s here.

So Whumpee just stares at nothing, wondering if the pain will ever fade, and only when it gets truly unbearable does he allow himself to think of Caretaker.

He’s left him here to rot. As he did before, as Whumpee should’ve known he would. 

But this pain is a lot deeper than the stabbing could ever be, so Whumpee closes his eyes and tries to focus on breathing through the molten lava seeping into his bloodstream.

Time passes, or maybe it doesn’t, and Whumpee can’t focus on anything for long enough to know anything but pain. 

It’s a strange combination, the desperate need to move his cramped arms, restless legs, but also the bone-deep weakness he feels, the certainty that even if he wasn’t chained to the wall, he wouldn’t have the strength to do more than curl up on the floor. 

It all comes back to murmured pleas for mercy that are never heard, until even his voice is raw and aching and he just goes back to leaning limply against the wall and relishing the few minutes he gets of sleep.

Eventually, his tiny cell fills with noise and his eyes flutter open to find Whumper towering over him.

He’s only half awake, the other half refuses to swim out of the deep waters of troubled sleep, but as if through a thick layer of glass, Whumpee manages to discern a few words.

“…infection,” someone says, somewhere distant. “Shit, get the doctor, I–“

He only truly wakes up when the chains are unlocked and he’s hauled up, the only thing keeping him standing the unforgiving hands gripping his arms. People keep speaking, but he’s so consumed by pain that all Whumpee can hear is his own desperate whimpers as they move his inert body. 

-

Whumper isn’t smiling when Caretaker enters his office, for once.

“Took you long enough. Do you have what I asked for?”

“What you bribed me for, you mean?” Caretaker bites back, clutching the drive filled with information his team never expected him to leak. “Let me see Whumpee first.”

“We had a bit of a situation while you were gone.” Whumper sighs, getting up and nodding toward the door for Caretaker to follow. Two security guards walk behind them, and Caretaker’s stomach churns when he sees the others standing at each corner they pass. If it was only two, he could take them down. Surrounded as he is, his only hope is to play the game long enough for Whumper to slip up first. “So, apparently having his wrists chained above him wasn’t particularly good for a nearly closed wound. It got infected.”

The world stops for a moment, pauses in horror. And yet it keeps moving, somehow – Caretaker’s legs keep driving him forward, even if his heart turns into stone in his chest, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing with fear.

“He’s fine, though,” Whumper continues as if his last words hadn’t frozen Caretaker inside out. “I’ll let you see him, as a treat, before you give me the drive, just because this was not supposed to happen.”

There are no words, no nothing as Caretaker keeps walking, the motion automatic, hammering heart the only sound he hears.

They enter the medical wing Whumpee had been in before he left, and stop in front of a white door. Whumper is frowning when he opens it, but Caretaker only has eyes for the tiny figure lying on the bed.

He was always so stunned by how big Whumpee looked, even though he was always a few centimeters shorter. Loud laughs, passionate ideas, all love and wildness that could never be contained – it all made him so much bigger than anyone else.

But under white sheets, a needle stuck to his vein, and beeping machines all around him, Whumpee looks so small. Vulnerable. Alone.

“See, still breathing,” Whumper huffs behind him.

“If I give you the drive, will you let me take him away?” The question is low, whispered not to wake Whumpee up. Or maybe not to reveal how tight his chest feels. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Just hand it over and I’ll even let you hang around for a while.”

It isn’t reassuring at all, but Caretaker doesn’t even look at Whumper as he hands him the device, eyes still locked on each shallow breath Whumpee takes.

“Don’t do anything stupid. The room is filled with cameras and my men will be waiting outside,” Whumper warns before leaving.

Caretaker is beside the bed before the door is even fully closed. 

His eyes travel down each centimeter of Whumpee’s body, head to toe, from the way his eyes move from side to side underneath his eyelids to the padded restraint around his right wrist to the slight bulge of new bandages covering his stab wound. The wound Caretaker is guilty of.

He sits at the very edge of the bed, leans closer. Whumpee’s hand is cold when Caretaker holds it, but his cheek is warm under his fingers.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, tracing his thumb along Whumpee’s jawline. “I’ll get you out of here, okay? And then I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”

He closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling as the words bubble up, escaping the dam Caretaker had built so long ago, through the cracks Whumpee created with each trustful smile, each careful touch and disarming gentleness. The cracks Caretaker did his best to close, thought he did for a while. And then he woke up to Whumpee tied behind his back and found out his heart had never stopped bleeding for him.

“It should’ve been me. It should’ve never been you. I was the one supposed to be hurt, not you. Never you. I am so sorry, Whumpee, so, so–“

A sharp intake of breath makes Caretaker’s words die in his throat.

He cracks his eyes open and freezes when he finds Whumpee’s green gaze locked on him.

They stare at each other, one instant that lasts one thousand, a million words Caretaker wishes to say but knows he won’t. And then Whumpee’s eyes wander around the room, aimlessly stopping here and there, going back to Caretaker, half-lidded and lost somewhere else.

“I ha– I hate it,” Whumpee mumbles, “that you’re still… in m-my dreams.”

Its low, weak, and Caretaker side-glances the bag filled with clear liquid dripping into Whumpee’s veins before looking back at him and smiling faintly. “I know. It’s okay. I deserve your hate.”

“No. Not you. I hate me.”

“What?”

Whumpee blinks slowly, so slowly opening back drug-addled eyes that strain to focus on Caretaker’s face, and leans his cheek against Caretaker’s palm. “I hate me… for still… still… caring.”

And just like that, the world stops in its tracks again. A sob gets caught between Caretaker’s teeth, and he just stares at Whumpee as either exhaustion or medication takes him away again, and his head lolls on the pillow.

When Whumper comes to pick him up hours later, Caretaker is still standing on the same spot, still holding Whumpee’s limp hand, still staring at the peace sleep brings to that beautiful face. The peace he hasn’t seen since Caretaker himself took from him.

He doesn’t complain when he’s told to leave the room. Caretaker simply squeezes that tiny hand that hides under his and obeys. 

They go back to Whumper’s office, and Caretaker strains to focus on now, here, not the man lying on a hospital bed one floor above.

“Good visit?” Whumper teases.

“I did my part. Now let us go.”

There’s a weight inside of Caretaker’s stomach, and it is tied to that sleeping figure, to that lost gaze that’ll never leave his mind.

“I have a new offer.”

He knew this was coming. Caretaker hoped it wasn’t but he knew it from the moment he looked at Whumper’s ambitious eyes.

“I want you to work for me.”

A humorless laugh escapes his lips, and Caretaker crosses his arms over his chest. “In your dreams. Now do your part and let me grab Whumpee and go.”

“Um no, I don’t think I will.”

“Why should I trust you when you haven’t been true to your word twice now?”

A snorted laugh, a raise of brows. “Isn’t it obvious? Because I have Whumpee. He isn’t in shape for traveling right now, y’know? I’m doing him a favor keeping him here, giving him top-of-the-line medical care. You should be thanking me.”

“What do you want now, Whumper?” Caretaker sighs. Exhaustion is curling around his very bones, helplessness snaking up his throat, and he is just so tired of this. Of being sad and scared and guilty, even if he deserves every single drop of it.

“Go back to your team and feed me relevant information, and I’ll keep making sure that nasty infection doesn’t hurt Whumpee anymore than it already has. Do as I say, and he stays alive. You know the drill, don’t you?”

Caretaker doesn’t have the willpower to do more than close his eyes and fall into a chair, waiting to hear the details of one more betrayal he has no way to avoid. 

-

It makes no sense, truly, but when Whumpee wakes up, he is surprised to find himself alone. There was no one in the cell with him, there’s no reason to expect someone to be with him in the hospital-like room, but a part of him expects a warm hand on his either way.

Pieces of dreams float around his mind, barren rooms with monsters waiting in the dark, a crimson puddle of his own blood, familiar and unknown faces blurring together. And the one that felt the most real, the one dream he holds close to his heart even if he doesn’t want to.

Caretaker’s face, worried eyes, gentle touches, soothing and painful all at once. Murmured words, tearful apologies. A dream he wishes was real, knows it isn’t.

Whumpee closes his eyes when tears blur his vision, and brushes his fingers along his jawline in a phantom touch he hasn’t felt in so long but wishes he had.

(next)

[fanficshiddles]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 11 (Final Chapter)

The following morning, Kelly woke up after a horrible sleep trapped in Loki’s arms, it had been laden with nightmares. But when she woke, she wished she had been back in one of those nightmares, as the one she was living was much worse.

Loki had kept her prisoner in his bed for a while that morning, petting her and toying with her body. He made her cum a few times and then took her again. Now he was just chatting away to her as if nothing was wrong while he got dressed, she lay shaking in his bed still. Curled up.

She wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he had raped her or the fact he was acting as if it was all normal, that they were a happy couple. It made her feel sick to think about either way.

Loki turned to face her and frowned. ‘Come on, get up. I’ve got a job I need to do, to let the world know exactly who is in charge. And you are coming with me.’ He snapped his fingers impatiently.

When she got out of bed, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood there awkwardly. She didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing. Loki opened the door, then looked at her expectantly.

‘Let’s go. Don’t think you’re getting clothes, if that’s what you’re waiting for.’ He said firmly, making her stomach drop.

Kelly knew there was no point fighting or trying to get away, so she submissively followed Loki to his throne room as he called it.

‘Get under my desk and use that pretty mouth of yours to keep me satisfied.’ Loki pointed towards said desk that was on front of his throne-like-chair. The desk was pretty big, so Kelly was a little relieved that at least she wouldn’t be too cramped.

She was resigning herself to being Loki’s slave. It was her own fault, after all. She blamed herself, and would every single day.

Before Kelly went over to the desk, Loki gripped her chin and had her look at him for a moment. He studied her closely, then smirked and brushed his thumb up over her lower lip.

‘Mmm, yes. You are going to make this job much more exciting.’ He purred, his smirk growing larger. ‘Now be a good girl and get into position.’

Kelly meekly crossed the room and crawled underneath the desk. Loki sat down on his throne, legs spread wide and he looked down, grinning at the sight of her down there.

‘Get started, darling. I have some business to attend to.’ He urged her.

Wanting to get it over and done with, Kelly began the difficult task of getting his cock free. It wasn’t easy with his armour that he was so adamant on wearing all the time. But she eventually got his cock out and reluctantly started stroking him.

‘Use that mouth of yours, pet. Don’t disappoint me.’ He growled with a quick glance under to her.

She really didn’t want to, but she knew she had no option. So she leaned in closer, hands on his thighs and she wrapped her lips around the tip of him, then slowly began sucking.

Loki let out a sigh of pleasure, but he was still able to focus. Only just. Her mouth felt so warm and lovely around him. He cleared his throat and clicked his fingers, a screen appeared up on front of him. It was recording him, broadcasting to every single TV in the world and appearing on everyone’s smartphone in an emergency video.

Kelly paused when she realised what was happening, Loki began a big speech about being ruler of the world. How many countries he had and which ones were under threat if they didn’t yield to him soon.

She carried on sucking his cock when she felt a sharp pain in her neck, it was Loki using his seidr as it felt like a collar was wrapped around her neck again. Hollowing her cheeks, she tried to work harder to get him to cum sooner than later, to get it over and done with. But Loki seemed to be lasting quite a while…

Then she felt dread run through her veins.

‘But of course, I wouldn’t have been able to be in this position if it wasn’t for this lovely little thing… Let me introduce you all to her.’ He said wickedly and tugged on her invisible collar, dragging her up out from under the desk.

Of course she tried to flee, but Loki kept a tight hold of her and hauled her onto his lap. Forcing her to face the screen, he had her sit over his cock and she felt him at her entrance as he leaned round and gripped her chin, keeping her head in place so she couldn’t look away.

‘Smile for the camera, darling.’ Loki hissed harshly into her ear and he then pulled her down onto him so his cock pressed painfully into her, forcing her body to accommodate him once again. She was mortified to find she was a little bit aroused, enough to make it less painful than last night’s first time.

The entire world could see her naked upper body, and most of them were able to know what was going on from the way her body flushed red in embarrassment and Loki’s breathing deepened.

‘That’s it, my pet. You belong to me just as much as your whole world does now.’ He growled and then winked at the screen before it cut out.

‘Mmm, such a good girl. MY good girl. And now the whole world knows it.’ Loki purred and began toying with her nipples as he thrust up into her, making her mewl.

His praise was making her wetter, Loki could feel her contracting around him hard. He grinned and bit down on her shoulder, chuckling against her.

‘You can deny it all you want, pet. But we both know you’re my good girl and always will be.’

-

That same evening, while Kelly was still reeling after everything that had been happening, she finally had some alone time when Loki went for a bath.  

When Loki disappeared out of the room, she waited a few minutes until she heard the bath water running enough, then she grabbed a blanket to wrap around herself, as there was no sign of her clothes anywhere.

She scurried to the door, but it was still locked as she had expected. So she ran to the large window and felt such relief when it opened and she stepped outside onto the balcony. But then she realised she didn’t know what to do next, it was really high up and all that was down below was the concrete roads and pavements, there was no way she could jump.

‘Come on, think. Use your brain, Kelly!’ She hissed at herself as she stepped back inside.

Looking up, she spotted the smoke alarm. If Loki hadn’t changed much of the initial security system in the building, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. So, with a quick glance around the room, she came up with a plan.

Grabbing one of the pillows off the bed she ran to the fire place and put it in enough to set it alight. She then went underneath where the alarm was and held the pillow up towards it, just as she had hoped, the smoke was enough to go up to the alarm and set it off.

Normally, when the smoke alarms went off in the tower it was set up so all the doors would unlock for people to get out safely, and it would set the sprinklers off.

But not this time. While the sprinklers did go off, wetting everything in the room, when she ran to the door it was still locked. She let out a sob as she banged hard against it in frustration and fear.

A dark chuckle came from behind her, making her jump out of her skin. ‘Did you really think that little plan would work?’

Kelly shook in fear as she slowly turned around to face Loki. She was a little surprised for a moment because he only had a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair was still wet too and dripping down his chest. He smirked when he saw her checking him out, but her eyes quickly shot back up to his face.

‘How stupid do you think I am, pet? That I would allow you to escape so easily? I don’t know whether to be angry that you tried to run away from me, or angry that you thought I’d be so stupid. Not to mention the state of my room now.’ He growled as he started walking towards her formidably.

She attempted to run to the other side of the room, but Loki grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back into him, making her cry out in pain. He put his arm around her middle and held her tightly to his body as he snarled into her ear. ‘You are going nowhere, pet. You belong to me, like the rest of the world does. And you only have yourself to thank.’

He dragged her back towards the bed and when she was thrown onto it, invisible restraints instantly trapped her, making her immobile and sending her panic levels sky high again.

Loki could clearly see she was distressed and panicky, but he was about to make her worse. He stood at the side of the bed and held his hand out, palm up. A jar formed in his hand and Kelly let out a gasp in horror at what was inside it. It was Thor, but he had been turned into a frog. He was jumping at the glass, trying to escape.

‘If you aren’t careful, I will get you your very own jar.’ He snarled in warning. ‘No more stupid escape stunts. You do as you’re told. Do I make myself clear?’

Tears fell down Kelly’s face as she shook from head to toe. She nodded quickly, feeling a horrible stabbing feeling deep within her at the sight of Thor like that. Though she had thought he was dead too, with the others. Even though there had been no sign of his body.

Loki had the jar with frog Thor vanish, then he prowled onto the bed over the top of her and grinned. ‘Now, now. There’s no need to look so scared, pet.’ He cooed and stroked her cheek gently with the back of his hand. ‘If you’re my good girl, which I know you can be, you will have absolutely nothing to worry about ever again.’

He leaned down and stole a kiss from her lips.

[nehswritesstuffs]

Clara is on her period and is miserable and 12 although awkward with these things tries to be a good boyfriend/husband and help her relax.

1518 words; I’d expect Twelve is less awkward with these things than some of the Doctor’s other incarnations, but that’s neither here nor there; don’t read if you’re squeamish about periods, I guess, although there’s not a lot of graphic stuff, just more like what you’d experience if someone in your house was menstruating

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was summer, and summers meant more Clara Time, so it was decidedly Tuesday from the Earthen London perspective. The Doctor was tinkering underneath the TARDIS’s flight console while Clara read a book on the upper level, one leg swung over the arm rest while the other dangled down to tap her toe against the floor. Things were peaceful, quiet, ready for the next adventure to begin at a moment’s notice. Clara looked up from the book, snapped it shut, and audibly groaned.

“Leave the dryer on again?” he asked idly.

“No,” she grumbled. “I started.”

He poked his head out from the console. “Started what?”

“My period—menstruating—you know…” She stood and made her way down towards the door to the corridors. “Let’s hope I find the bathroom before I bleed through the liner I have on.”

“How can you tell?” He was fully divested from the console and on the way to his feet now.

“Sometimes, I just can,” she said.

“That doesn’t make sense. You either can or you can’t.”

“This time I can. With as many women as you’ve traveled with, I’m surprised no one else has done so and let you know about it.”

“Many of them were decidedly uncomfortable talking about it; different social morays and all.” The Doctor watched as she rolled her eyes and disappeared into the corridor, which left him scratching his head.

Oh well—at least Clara’s period never got in the way before.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The Doctor woke up the following morning with Clara in his arms, though she was curled up into a ball so tightly that only his arms and a small part of his chest touched her body. He wrenched his arms from her and let her be, finding a robe to throw over his shoulders before he padded out of the room, headed straight for the kitchen. It was time for a good omelette, he decided, and began to gather together the appropriate fixings. He had finished the omelettes, as well as some tea with toast and jam, and placed them on the table when he noticed one crucial thing: Clara wasn’t there yet. Nodding, he piled everything onto a tray and carried it down to the bedroom, where the Human in question was still laying in a tight ball.

“Clara, it’s time for breakfast,” he stated, placing the tray down on the mattress as he sat. “We can get in a whole day yet if we hurry, where we can ponce about the Andromeda System, have afternoon tea in pre-colonial Hong Kong, and even possibly even figure out the mystery of why one of my past traveling companions knew an ancient Aboriginal Australian dialect despite not being of the time period, and all her great-grandparents were from Europe.” He picked up his plate and began to eat, using the side of his fork to slice off bits of omelette.

Chew, chew, chew, swallow… she remained in the same position.

“Clara…?” He placed his plate down and gently shook her shoulder. She rolled over and glared at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel like shit,” she grumbled. “Andromeda and Hong Kong and ancient dialects will have to wait.” She saw the food and it seemed to take a moment to register that it was even real, let alone for her. Taking the mug of tea first, she sipped at it experimentally.

“What is it?” he asked. He could smell hormones flooding off of her, and it was difficult to even catch a whiff of the aromatic omelettes and tea without having them directly under his nose.

“My period.” Clara grimaced as she placed down the cuppa and began to eat the omelette. “I’m not nauseous this time, thank goodness, but I’ve got bad cramps anyhow and I’m sore in other spots. It’s not usually this bad, but when it is, it’s bad.”

“Then adventures can wait until you’re not feeling like you’re run over by a bus and about to regenerate,” the Doctor nodded. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I thought you’ve only been a bloke so far.”

“We were all given instruction in the Academy on the varying differences in gendered physiology and what that might entail… or not entail, for if or when we might need the knowledge post-regeneration,” he nodded. “We were all subjected to a false jolt of pain that was meant to represent a mild menstruation cramp and… well… let’s just say it made more than one lad regenerate.” He rested his fork on his plate long enough to free his hand to drink his own tea. “There’s lots of things about Gallifreyans and Humans that are disturbingly similar, and reproductive health lines up like many of the other topics, and it’s helped out on more than one occasion.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you’ve had to buy Time Lord pads?”

“More than that,” he shrugged vaguely. He finished off his omelette and slathered some jam on a wedge of toast. “I’ll make sure this passes with as little fuss as possible.”

“…and then adventure…?”

“All the stars and yum cha you can handle,” he grinned. He took his plate out of the room with him as he continued to munch on the toast.

It was going to end up being a very different sort of day, but that he didn’t mind.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

When Clara had fallen back asleep, she had half her omelette and the dregs of her cuppa sitting next to her on the tray in the bed. She wasn’t a particularly active sleeper, so when she woke up to find that they were not there, it did concern her a bit.

Taking a quick look around the room, she saw that there was no one else there, meaning it was at least possible for the Doctor to have taken the tray while she was asleep. Instead of investigating, Clara went to the bathroom, changed her pad, and took some of the painkillers that were set out on the counter. She had nearly shuffled herself back to the bed when she saw the Doctor unloading the contents of another tray onto the bedside table.

“What are you doing…?” she asked.

“I took note of the sort of things that you tend to favor during times like these and found a bunch of them,” he explained. “We’re out of Cadbury Milk, for whatever reason, so I got you De Heer…? I don’t know… it’s shaped like a C… though there was a whole alphabet to choose from in there...”

“It’s fine, Doctor,” she assured, popping up on her toes so she could peck a kiss on his cheek. She climbed back into bed and examined her newly-gathered supplies. There was the aforementioned chocolate, as well as some crisps, tea in the stay-hot-pot that the Doctor had fiddled into inventing during the school year while waiting for Wednesday to come about, and a wee shot glass filled with what smelled like an energy drink. A moment later and he had an electric-powered heating pad, and a moment after that he had a television on a wheely cart that he positioned on her side of the bed.

“You really must want to talk dialects over dim sum,” she chuckled. She watched as he fussed over the state of her bedding before he grabbed the remote and joined her, positioning himself snugly along her back. He draped an arm over her, holding not only her close, but the heating pad in place. After tucking her head under his chin, he used the shaky hold he hand on the remote to turn the television on.

“I’d say there’s anything you could possibly want to stream on it, but it’s not streaming—I just have an impressive digital collection.”

“What is copyright law to someone who existed before the author was born and a hundred years after they were gone?” She watched as he scrolled through some of the offerings before chuckling weakly. “I thought that they stopped the Dark Universal Cinematic Universe after that wee nit crashed the Mummy reboot.”

“I might have some extra-dimensional versions of certain films thanks to the nature of the TARDIS,” he shrugged. He put on Creature From the Black Lagoon and settled in, allowing the opening credits to roll over panoramic shots of the Amazon rainforest.

“I guess I’ll get to see whether or not I prefer this or Shape of Water.”

“The mam from Paddington is still in this, so I don’t know.”

“You are the worst.”

A capybara was dragged underwater by an unseen force.

“No I’m not.”

A local child finds remains of the animal and alerts the other members of the community. Via subtitles, they marvel at the state of the bones—no animal is able to pick a capybara clean and precise as this did—and put the rest of the people on high alert. The child glances towards the water, only to catch the last of something quickly ducking beneath the surface.

He does not think anything of it.

“Okay, yeah. You’re not… at least not on-purpose.”

[imagine-loki]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 11 (Final Chapter)

TITLE: Tear You To Pieces CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 11 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was sent to make up for his deeds by helping out The Avengers at the tower. Everyone thinks he’s changed, but he is just biding his time. He manipulates and uses someone who works there, who has a crush on him, to get exactly what he wants.  RATING: M

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: DARK LOKI, RAPE/NON-CON, MANIPULATION, MURDER, VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, KIDNAPPING

  The following morning, Kelly woke up after a horrible sleep trapped in Loki’s arms, it had been laden with nightmares. But when she woke, she wished she had been back in one of those nightmares, as the one she was living was much worse.

Loki had kept her prisoner in his bed for a while that morning, petting her and toying with her body. He made her cum a few times and then took her again. Now he was just chatting away to her as if nothing was wrong while he got dressed, she lay shaking in his bed still. Curled up.

She wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that he had raped her or the fact he was acting as if it was all normal, that they were a happy couple. It made her feel sick to think about either way.

Loki turned to face her and frowned. ‘Come on, get up. I’ve got a job I need to do, to let the world know exactly who is in charge. And you are coming with me.’ He snapped his fingers impatiently.

When she got out of bed, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood there awkwardly. She didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing. Loki opened the door, then looked at her expectantly.

‘Let’s go. Don’t think you’re getting clothes, if that’s what you’re waiting for.’ He said firmly, making her stomach drop.

Kelly knew there was no point fighting or trying to get away, so she submissively followed Loki to his throne room as he called it.

‘Get under my desk and use that pretty mouth of yours to keep me satisfied.’ Loki pointed towards said desk that was on front of his throne-like-chair. The desk was pretty big, so Kelly was a little relieved that at least she wouldn’t be too cramped.

She was resigning herself to being Loki’s slave. It was her own fault, after all. She blamed herself, and would every single day.

Before Kelly went over to the desk, Loki gripped her chin and had her look at him for a moment. He studied her closely, then smirked and brushed his thumb up over her lower lip.

‘Mmm, yes. You are going to make this job much more exciting.’ He purred, his smirk growing larger. ‘Now be a good girl and get into position.’

Kelly meekly crossed the room and crawled underneath the desk. Loki sat down on his throne, legs spread wide and he looked down, grinning at the sight of her down there.

‘Get started, darling. I have some business to attend to.’ He urged her.

Wanting to get it over and done with, Kelly began the difficult task of getting his cock free. It wasn’t easy with his armour that he was so adamant on wearing all the time. But she eventually got his cock out and reluctantly started stroking him.

‘Use that mouth of yours, pet. Don’t disappoint me.’ He growled with a quick glance under to her.

She really didn’t want to, but she knew she had no option. So she leaned in closer, hands on his thighs and she wrapped her lips around the tip of him, then slowly began sucking.

Loki let out a sigh of pleasure, but he was still able to focus. Only just. Her mouth felt so warm and lovely around him. He cleared his throat and clicked his fingers, a screen appeared up on front of him. It was recording him, broadcasting to every single TV in the world and appearing on everyone’s smartphone in an emergency video.

Kelly paused when she realised what was happening, Loki began a big speech about being ruler of the world. How many countries he had and which ones were under threat if they didn’t yield to him soon.

She carried on sucking his cock when she felt a sharp pain in her neck, it was Loki using his seidr as it felt like a collar was wrapped around her neck again. Hollowing her cheeks, she tried to work harder to get him to cum sooner than later, to get it over and done with. But Loki seemed to be lasting quite a while…

Then she felt dread run through her veins.

‘But of course, I wouldn’t have been able to be in this position if it wasn’t for this lovely little thing… Let me introduce you all to her.’ He said wickedly and tugged on her invisible collar, dragging her up out from under the desk.

Of course she tried to flee, but Loki kept a tight hold of her and hauled her onto his lap. Forcing her to face the screen, he had her sit over his cock and she felt him at her entrance as he leaned round and gripped her chin, keeping her head in place so she couldn’t look away.

‘Smile for the camera, darling.’ Loki hissed harshly into her ear and he then pulled her down onto him so his cock pressed painfully into her, forcing her body to accommodate him once again. She was mortified to find she was a little bit aroused, enough to make it less painful than last night’s first time.

The entire world could see her naked upper body, and most of them were able to know what was going on from the way her body flushed red in embarrassment and Loki’s breathing deepened.

‘That’s it, my pet. You belong to me just as much as your whole world does now.’ He growled and then winked at the screen before it cut out.

‘Mmm, such a good girl. MY good girl. And now the whole world knows it.’ Loki purred and began toying with her nipples as he thrust up into her, making her mewl.

His praise was making her wetter, Loki could feel her contracting around him hard. He grinned and bit down on her shoulder, chuckling against her.

‘You can deny it all you want, pet. But we both know you’re my good girl and always will be.’

-

That same evening, while Kelly was still reeling after everything that had been happening, she finally had some alone time when Loki went for a bath.  

When Loki disappeared out of the room, she waited a few minutes until she heard the bath water running enough, then she grabbed a blanket to wrap around herself, as there was no sign of her clothes anywhere.

She scurried to the door, but it was still locked as she had expected. So she ran to the large window and felt such relief when it opened and she stepped outside onto the balcony. But then she realised she didn’t know what to do next, it was really high up and all that was down below was the concrete roads and pavements, there was no way she could jump.

‘Come on, think. Use your brain, Kelly!’ She hissed at herself as she stepped back inside.

Looking up, she spotted the smoke alarm. If Loki hadn’t changed much of the initial security system in the building, perhaps she could use that to her advantage. So, with a quick glance around the room, she came up with a plan.

Grabbing one of the pillows off the bed she ran to the fire place and put it in enough to set it alight. She then went underneath where the alarm was and held the pillow up towards it, just as she had hoped, the smoke was enough to go up to the alarm and set it off.

Normally, when the smoke alarms went off in the tower it was set up so all the doors would unlock for people to get out safely, and it would set the sprinklers off.

But not this time. While the sprinklers did go off, wetting everything in the room, when she ran to the door it was still locked. She let out a sob as she banged hard against it in frustration and fear.

A dark chuckle came from behind her, making her jump out of her skin. ‘Did you really think that little plan would work?’

Kelly shook in fear as she slowly turned around to face Loki. She was a little surprised for a moment because he only had a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair was still wet too and dripping down his chest. He smirked when he saw her checking him out, but her eyes quickly shot back up to his face.

‘How stupid do you think I am, pet? That I would allow you to escape so easily? I don’t know whether to be angry that you tried to run away from me, or angry that you thought I’d be so stupid. Not to mention the state of my room now.’ He growled as he started walking towards her formidably.

She attempted to run to the other side of the room, but Loki grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back into him, making her cry out in pain. He put his arm around her middle and held her tightly to his body as he snarled into her ear. ‘You are going nowhere, pet. You belong to me, like the rest of the world does. And you only have yourself to thank.’

He dragged her back towards the bed and when she was thrown onto it, invisible restraints instantly trapped her, making her immobile and sending her panic levels sky high again.

Loki could clearly see she was distressed and panicky, but he was about to make her worse. He stood at the side of the bed and held his hand out, palm up. A jar formed in his hand and Kelly let out a gasp in horror at what was inside it. It was Thor, but he had been turned into a frog. He was jumping at the glass, trying to escape.

‘If you aren’t careful, I will get you your very own jar.’ He snarled in warning. ‘No more stupid escape stunts. You do as you’re told. Do I make myself clear?’

Tears fell down Kelly’s face as she shook from head to toe. She nodded quickly, feeling a horrible stabbing feeling deep within her at the sight of Thor like that. Though she had thought he was dead too, with the others. Even though there had been no sign of his body.

Loki had the jar with frog Thor vanish, then he prowled onto the bed over the top of her and grinned. ‘Now, now. There’s no need to look so scared, pet.’ He cooed and stroked her cheek gently with the back of his hand. ‘If you’re my good girl, which I know you can be, you will have absolutely nothing to worry about ever again.’

He leaned down and stole a kiss from her lips.

[xwing-baby]

Pull Over (Frankie Morales x gn!Reader)

Warnings: Fluff!! description of a dead bird, swearing, not edited

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: On a cross country road trip with your boyfriend Frankie, you wake to a beautiful sight...

A/n: I’ve pining for Frankie all week, add this gorgeous prompt photo and this is the result

---

You woke up slowly to the sound of Frankie mumbling along to the radio, as he had been when you fell asleep. Blue sky was all you could see out the window as you slumped in your seat, it wasn’t until you sat up properly that you saw the majesty of your surroundings. You gasped at the sigh of the expansive red dirt, sun dancing on the endless road ahead in mirages. The last time your eyes were open you were driving through concrete suburbs, a far cry from the desolate and beautiful desert you drove in now.

“Holy shit, Frankie!” You exclaimed, choking up in emotion at the sight through the windshield. Frankie startled at your sudden proclamation, “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” Tears streamed down your cheeks, happy tears, shocked and amazed tears. You wiped them quickly from your eyes hoping your fiancé wouldn’t see.

“Are you crying?” Frankie laughed, turning his head for a moment to look at you properly. He didn’t miss the tightness in your voice.

“Shut up,” You sniffed, wiping your eyes, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I didn’t know you’d react like that!” Frankie continued to laugh at you, “And besides you looked cute!”

“That is not an excuse!” You exclaimed, cheeks heating up at his compliment, “Oh Babe, it's so beautiful,” You sighed happily. You pulled your phone from your jeans and took pictures through the truck window. They’d come out blurry and scratched, Frankie knew that. Then he had an idea.

“Do you want to pull over to take a proper photo?” He asked. Your mom had recently given you her old polaroid camera, the one she used when you and your siblings were younger. Having been there as a stop on the road trip already, it was sat in your bag waiting to be used. Here would be the best location to start, he thought. 

“Really? What about your schedule?” Ever the military man, Frankie liked to have a plan and stuck to it religiously. You’d been on the road for two weeks, he had planned every moment down the minute. He’d refused to stop at rest stops, despite if he himself needed to pee, all in the name of the schedule. You were surprised he was allowing the break. 

“Baby I can allow five minutes for a photo I’m not a complete hard ass,” He chuckled, “there's a stop point up ahead, I’ll pull over there and you can take some,”

You cheered and began to root around the stuffed backpack in the footwell to find out the camera. Frankie pulled the truck up ahead a few meters, parked and you jumped out eagerly.

“Fuck me it’s hot,” Outside of the cool AC in the vehicle, the air was dry but scorching hot. You could practically feel the soles of your shoes melting to the tar as you stood on the road. 

“It is a desert,” Frankie said, looking around at the expansive nothingness.

“Really? Would never have guessed!” You stuck your tongue out at him, he copied and you quickly snapped a photo. Frankie pouted and reached for the paper as it printed but you were fast and slipped the photograph in your pocket before he could get it and ruin it. 

Frankie wandered around the truck, you walked a few paces in the opposite direction enjoying stretching your legs. You’d been driving for eight hours, even if you had been asleep for the last two hours, your legs were cramped up. You stretched them out as you walked through the red dirt, watching your sneakers slowly become red stained too. You snapped a photo of Frankie leant against the truck staring off into the distance, a photo cliffs in the distance and then...

“Ah gross there's a skeleton!” You exclaimed. A half rotted carcass lay on the side of the road, bones pale under the beating sun it had been there for a while. It used to be a bird, though its feathers were gone. You stepped closer to it to get a better look.

“Don’t go closer to it!” Frankie said, walking over to you to look at it too.

“What? It’s already dead, it’s cool!” You peered at it, gagging as the smell of rotting flesh hit you. You retreated back to him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you took in the expansive desert surrounding you. 

“I do worry about you sometimes,” He teased you. 

“As you should, baby,” You grinned and kissed him quickly. “Take a picture of me, I’ve got loads of you,”

“Watch for cars,” Frankie warned as you stepped into the middle of the road. 

“Somehow I think I might see them,” You joked, it was clear from miles around you. You stood in the road and posed for the photo, waiting for a moment before calling back, ”Did you take it?”

“If you stop moving!” 

“I’m posing!” You laughed, Frankie raised a brow. “Fine I’ll hold still for you, slow poke,”

“Got one,” He said after another couple seconds. You sighed and jogged back over and took the developing photo from his fingers. You smiled, it was a really nice photo actually. 

“That’s cute! You are a surprisingly good photographer,”

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents,” He smiled proudly. 

“That you are,” You pressed up on your toes and kissed him on the lips again, “I’m going to take a couple more and then I will be back in the car and we can get to Vegas!” You sang, doing an excited dance at the thought of finally getting to your destination. Frankie cheered too and laughed heartily before giving you ass a little tap and letting you go. 

He watched you wander about in the wilderness ahead, ever the adventurer. Unlike him, you didn’t really know the harshness of the world. You knew the things he had done, the things he’d seen, but only through stories. You weren’t hardened to the world like he was, like he used to be. Pope always teased him that you’d turned him soft but Frankie couldn’t find fault in that if it meant he could have moments like this. Usually a small reminder in his head would tell him to watch the back mirror, to watch for people hidden on the side of the road. Now, he didn’t think about any of that and instead watched you stride fearlessly into the unknown, smiling at the wildness taking photos as if you belonged among the rocks that surrounded you. 

Your smile was his favourite thing in the world. He would rather die than never wake up to see it again. You brought so much joy into his life, even when things were tough to hope that you would stick around long enough to smile again helped him through. Through fights, through low moments for the both of you the smile always sat as the prize for getting through the dark. It was what he dreamt of stuck in the Andes, it was what drove him home when he wanted to run away from everything. You.

The question had been his head the entire trip. He wanted to ask at a good time, a romantic spot meant something to the two of you. One memorable and meaningful. His plan was to take you out to California, where you’d met, and propose on the same beach. But each day with you in the truck was making him impatient. He nearly slipped it out when you had sex in the horrible motel you’d stayed at the night before. He was desperate, couldn’t wait another day to ask you to be his for forever. Now, watching you and your reaction to seeing it waking up from your nap. Maybe he didn’t need California, and past memories. Maybe he could make new ones here in the middle of the desert.

He watched you walk back to the truck, slipping the last polaroid into your back pocket. You opened the door and smiled at him. That smile. The decision was made. He had to ask now.

“What?” You asked, with an awkward laugh. You could tell he wanted to say something. He didn’t so you began to pack up your camera, putting it and the polaroid photos you’d taken away safely.

“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?” He asked, you stopped fiddling with your backpack and looked back up at him. Your heart fluttered in your chest. 

“What?” You were surprised. You had spoken about marriage with him, from the beginning of your relationship you had joked about being grumpy grandparents on a porch swing together. You just didn’t think Frankie was the type to just ask like this. You sat up and looked at your boyfriend. He was staring directly at you, he cleared his throat and readjusted his shirt. 

“Marry me? Tonight. In Vegas,” He said with more confidence, “Our friends are already there, I don’t have ring but we can go get one when we get there and I-,” He stopped, catching himself rambling, getting excited at the idea, “I would like to marry you,” He admitted, with a hopeful smile.

“You’re serious?” You asked, shocked at his words in the best way. Francisco didn’t speak, looking back at you with hopeful eyes. He needed an answer, “Yes of course I’ll marry you! Yes!”

“Thank fuck,” He gasped as you leaned over the console and kissed him hard. You’d kissed him a million times, but this was special, a new spark. 

“I have one condition,” You said as you pulled away. 

“Anything,” He smiled, eyes starry looking at you, so full of love.

“I want an Elvis impersonator to officiate” You tried to remain serious but couldn’t fight the grin on your lips. Frankie laughed and shook his head, “And you need to call my dad,” You said seriously, “I know it takes away from the spontaneity but he’d be-,”

“Already asked him, two weeks ago,” He interrupted you. Your jaw dropped, shocked.

“We were at their- Oh my god that’s why Dad had that stupid grin on his face when we left, isn’t it?” You gasped, hitting his arm playfully.

“Maybe,” He smirked, proud of himself now his plan had fully worked out. You gaped at him, 

“So you really planned to propose next to a decaying bird?” You looked at the skeleton again, curling your lip at it.

“The bird wasn’t in the plan,” He chuckled, turning your attention back to him with his hands on your cheeks. You smiled and leant into his touch, affectionately. 

“I love you Frankie Morales,” you whispered. 

“I love you too sweetheart,” 

---

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ the wonderful host of this awesome game

@hunters-heathen​ @peterssweetpea​ @beskarbabs​ @this-cat-is-dea​ @wille-zarr​ 

[hopelikethemoon]

Muted Worries (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Muted Worries Rating: PG-13 Length: 1900 Warnings: Post-Partum Depression, discussion of post-pregnancy body changes, and lots and lots of ANGST.  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in 1997 about two weeks after Sofía‘s birth. I literally wish I could see this chapter as a scene, because the emotions hurt while writing this.  Summary: Reader grapples with her emotions and worries. 

@grapemama​​ @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @beccaplaying​​ @thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​ @fioccodineveautunnale​​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​​ @lukesrighthand​​ @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​​ @awesomefandomsunited​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @u-wakatoshii​ @space-floozy​​ @cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​ @frietiemeloen​​ @arrowswithwifi​​  @cinewhore​​ @random066​​ @uncomicalhumour​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​​ @cyarikaaa​​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl​​ @yabby-girl​​ @xqueenofthecraziesx​ @punkass-potato​​ @coredrive​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​​@seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie​​ @jaime1110​​ @katlikeme​

Josie was obsessed with her sister. If Chucho was holding Sofía, Josie was perched on the chair beside him; if Javier was carrying her around, Josie was right underfoot; and if you were feeding her, Josie was there asking you to hold the bottle. 

You wished you could harness her enthusiasm and feel something. But you couldn’t. You brushed it off as lingering exhaustion, a sort of fatigue that ran straight to the core of your being. 

Everything hurt. Worse than it had with Josie. Or at least, worse than you remembered. Sofía was smaller than her sister and yet it felt like you’d given birth to a water buffalo, instead of a baby. 

No one ever talked about how miserable women felt after childbirth — and it wasn’t like you could even complain about it to Connie. You already felt guilty enough for feeling miserable. Like you were a bad mother for being disinterested in everything. 

Maybe it was the medicine they had you on. You’d tried to avoid prescriptions your entire life — for obvious reasons — but this was one you couldn’t avoid. 

The fact that you couldn’t feed your daughter was probably another part of it. And pumping a dozen times a day, only to send it down the drain was a depressing venture. No one talked about how much this shit fucked a woman up. No one. 

“Hey—“ Javier started as he walked into the bedroom. 

“Knock much?” You snapped. 

Javier froze and you watched as the warmth faded from his expression, “Shit. I’ll come back.” He muttered as he moved to retreat from the room. 

“Just stay.” You said with a beleaguered sigh as you shut off the machine, unscrewing the full bottle and sitting it aside on the nightstand. “Sorry.”

“I can go.” Javier offered, not quite meeting your eyes as he looked across the room at you. 

“You’re already here, just stay.”

You readjusted the pump on your other breast, attaching the second bottle before turning the machine back on. The quiet whirring filled the uncomfortable silence that had settled between you. 

Javier lingered by the door, like he was planning for a quick escape. You couldn’t even blame him. None of this was worth the hassle. 

“Pops thought it might be nice if we got out of the house and went to the beach this evening.” He suggested, rubbing his lips together as he glanced at you. 

“I’ll see if I’m up to it.” You winced when the suction of the pump pinched your skin. “Shit.”

“Do you need—“

“I’ve got it.” You waved him off as you shut the pump off and pulled it off your breast, causing a little milk to spill. “Actually, can you grab me the towel?” You pointed to the hand towel sitting on the foot of the bed. 

Javier closed the distance between the two of you, snatching the towel off the bed and passing it to you. “How are you feeling?”

You rolled your eyes, “Like shit.” You wiped off your breast, sitting the towel aside as you gestured to the full bottle. “Can you throw it away? I don’t want to see it.”

“Of course,” He said softly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head, before taking the bottle into the bathroom to get rid of it. 

It was fucking defeating. 

“Are the stitches still bothering you?” Javier questioned as he stepped back into the bedroom with the empty bottle. 

You shrugged, hooking the machine back up to finish pumping your left breast. “They’re itchy.”

Javier hesitantly perched on the edge of the bed, reaching out to rest his hand on your leg. “That means they’re healing.” He reminded you. 

“I know.” You nodded slowly as you watched the milk drip into the bottle. “I hate this, Javi.” 

He squeezed your leg, “You still gonna try to hold out until you can breastfeed?”

“I don’t know,” You admitted, chewing on your bottom lip. You hated feeling weak and this shit made you feel like you were frail and stupid. Crying over not being able to feed your child. No one understood. “We’ll see.”

“I’m, uh… I’m sorry for barging in.” Javier said quietly, his brows drawn together as he looked down at where his hand was resting on your leg. “I should’ve knocked.”

“It’s fine.” You told him with a tightlipped smile. “It’s not really that big of a deal.” You reached down to catch his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “The beach sounds nice. Even if I don’t go, you and your dad should go. He’s been cooped up here for too long.” 

“He’s gonna stay another week,” Javier informed, his jaw working slowly as he looked down at where your hands were. “Then he’ll be out of our hair and things can go back to normal.”

Normal. 

Did you even remember what normal was? Had you felt like this with Josie? You didn’t think you had — you hadn’t exactly had the privilege of falling apart when you were in Colombia. 

What was normal? 

“Yeah.” You nodded, sitting up a little straighter then as you held out the second filled bottle, “Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and took the bottle from you. He was in the bathroom longer this time — quiet. 

When he emerged with the rinsed out bottle, his eyes looked red, but you didn’t have the energy to care. You barely had the energy to care about anything these days. 

“You gonna stay in here?” Javier questioned, shifting anxiously from foot-to-foot as he stood at the end of the bed, not quite meeting your gaze. 

“I need my heating pad.” You answered, sliding your legs over the side of the bed, wiggling your toes as you pressed your feet to the floor. “I’ll come out there.”

Javier pulled open the door and held it open for you as you wrapped your throw around your shoulders and made your way towards him. 

“Hey,” You whispered, stopping in front of him. 

“Yeah?” He arched a brow. 

“I love you.” You told him gently, reaching out to brush your knuckles against his cheek, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, before making your way out the door. 

“Mommy!” Josie cheered, as you stepped into the family room. “Sissy burped big!”

“Did she?” You laughed softly, summoning as much enthusiasm as you could for her benefit. “Did your abuelo feed her good?”

You caught sight of the wary look Chucho gave Javier as his eyes shifted between the two of you. But he was quick to put whatever that was aside when he met your gaze. 

“She ate like a prize calf,” He remarked, cradling her to his chest as she fussed at the new commotion in the family room. “How are you feeling, chica?”

You sank down on the sofa and adjusted the heating pad over your stomach, “Cramping.” You offered with a shrug. “And tired.” 

“Can I kiss it better?” Josie asked innocently as she crouched down next to the sofa. 

“It might work,” You intoned, playing with her curls. 

“O-Tay, mommy!” Josie leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your stomach. “All better!”

You smiled at her and echoed, “All better!” 

Josie giggled, before prancing across the family room to the armchair where Chucho was sitting. “Sissy! You gots to get bigger so you’re more fun.” 

You tilted your head to look behind you, catching Javier’s gaze. You wished you knew what was going on behind those stormy looks, but you weren’t certain you could stomach more guilt. You knew it wasn’t fair to make him bottle it all up — but you couldn’t do it. 

Javier rested his hand on the arm of the sofa, leaning over you. 

“What are you doing?” You laughed, a genuine laugh that made your heart warm. You reached up and played your fingers through his hair. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He breathed out as he peppered a line of soft kisses along your jaw, before his breath warmed your cheek by your ear. “I love you too.” Javier murmured and you swore you felt a tear slide down his cheek and land on yours, before it fell into your hair. 

 ——

 “How was the beach?” You questioned sleepily as the bathroom light cut into the darkness of the bedroom and woke you up. 

“Good.” Javier offered, shutting off the light and making his way through the darkness. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright.” You assured him, rubbing at your eyes as they adjusted to the lack of light. “What time is it?”

“Just after nine.” He answered as the bed dipped behind you. “I fed Sofía.”

You reached out and ran your hand down his back, “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” Javier sighed heavily and you listened to the sound of his watch dropping onto the nightstand, before he settled down on the bed beside you. “How was your evening alone?”

“I got two children cleaned, dressed, and down before eight.” You grinned, even though he couldn’t see you. “An achievement.” You stretched your leg out beneath the covers, running your foot along his calf. “What’d you do?”

“Let Stevie run around the beach,” He explained, shifting closer to you. “Took pops down to the icecream shop on the boardwalk.”

“Ohh. Now you’re making me sad I didn’t go.” You shifted closer to him too, draping your arm over his chest. 

“It was good.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Pops used to take me out on this one stretch of road when we had our serious talks. Beach doesn’t have the same feel.”

Your heart clenched in your chest. “Is Chucho alright?” You remembered all the times Javier used to talk about those long talks with his father. 

“Hmm?” Javier sniffed. “Yeah, he’s good. Fucker’s gonna outlive both of us and the girls, I bet.” 

“Oh.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Well that’s good.” 

Javier curled his fingers around your hand, squeezing it three short times. “There’s nothing to worry about, baby. We just used the time to talk. Father to son.”

“That’s good.” You mustered up just enough conviction in your voice to mask the way your nerves were settling in. You remembered Javier telling you about the time Chucho took him out on a drive to talk about how foolish he was for asking Lorraine to marry him. 

Were you some mistake Chucho wanted to lecture him on? The thought didn’t make sense — you were pretty sure Chucho liked you more than Javier. But those fears still crept into your mind, nevertheless. 

“I bet Stevie enjoyed getting two hours of free beach access.” 

Javier hummed in agreement, “She crashed on her bed as soon as we got home.” 

You smiled to yourself as you molded your body against the side of his, wanting that skin-to-skin contact wherever you could get it. To hold onto him as tight as you could. 

“Javier?”

“Hmm?” He ran his hand down your back. “What is it, baby?”

“We’re good, right?” You whispered so quietly you weren’t sure if he could even hear you or not. 

Javier pulled you in even closer to him, wrapping both of his arms around you. “Of course we are, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead at your hairline. “You should go back to sleep. Two will get here soon.” 

“Yeah.” You breathed out, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. How were you supposed to sleep, now that you had something new to worry about? 

But even then, those worries felt muted in comparison to everything else. 

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot “No Longer Us” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt is awoken late at night by a phone call from Blaine with very important news. But it's news that drudges up old memories of the life Kurt had once wanted, and the boy he'd wanted to live it with. (1506 words)

Notes: The sequel Special Delivery is going to include a Blaine redemption arc. This is part of that. Warning for mention of Blaine, mention of past Klaine, Blaine friendly, angst, anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort, and brief mention of Kurt’s abuse from the original story.

Read on AO3.

Bzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzz

In his sleep, Kurt scrunched his nose at the vibration tickling his ear.

Bzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzz

He rolled over, trying hard to ignore it, but it felt like it was coming from underneath his skull.

Bzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzz

Kurt swatted the air, then his pillow, with a limp, tired hand ... and smacked himself on the nose. He jerked awake, peering into the darkness with bleary eyes.

Bzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzz

"All right, you pernicious little asshole," he whisper-hissed, searching for the mosquito disrupting his sleep. Do mosquitos live in Colorado during the winter? he wondered. Meh. Anything's possible.

Bzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzz

Propped up on one elbow, the fog in Kurt’s head cleared enough for him to realize the obnoxious buzzing was coming from his phone and not an insect.

And he was grateful.

Bzzzzzzz

Bzzzzzzz

Kurt fumbled beneath his pillow, feeling around for the offending phone. Kurt found it, wrapped his fingers around it. It buzzed again, and he stuck his tongue out at it. He was tempted to ignore it - turn it off, curl up under the blanket, and go back to sleep. But when he caught sight of the caller's name, he knew he had to answer it.

“Hey,” Kurt whispered in a gravelly voice, cupping a hand over the receiver so as not to wake Sebastian sleeping soundly beside him.

“Hey," Blaine replied, voice strained, broken, as if he had just spent the last hour crying. “Did I wake you?”

Kurt looked over his shoulder, past Sebastian’s unconscious body, to the digital clock on the bedside table.

“It’s three in the morning. Of course, you woke me.” Kurt said it, hoping to lighten Blaine’s mood, but it had the opposite effect.

“Oh. Yeah. Right. I … I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I shouldn’t have called. I should have waited …”

“Blaine." Kurt sighed. "We promised not to do this, right? I told you to call whenever you needed. And that includes the hours between midnight and five a.m. So, what's up?”

Blaine exhaled. His breath shuddered, and Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, tried to picture the man on the other end of the line, his puppy-dog eyes forever pleading for forgiveness. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “I need to leave Eli.”

Kurt smiled. Finally. “Yes. Yes, you do.”

“W-will you help me?” 

Kurt sat up straighter to head off a cramp threatening to blossom in his side and leaned back, resting against the cold, hard wall.

“Of course,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Whatever you need. We’ll help you out. No problem.”

Total silence answered him, and Kurt thought Blaine might have hung up. Maybe he hadn’t told Eli yet that he was thinking of leaving, and the man walked into the room. Kurt considered hanging up, too; let Blaine call him back at a more convenient time. Then he heard Blaine take another deep breath.

“Don’t you miss me, Kurt? Don’t you ever wonder what things would be like if we were together now - a little bit older, a little bit wiser?”

“I used to,” Kurt admitted. “When I was with Dave, and he would …" Kurt stopped short, more out of shock than fear. When did it become so easy to mention it? When did he get so nonchalant about it? He'd like to believe that was a sign of growth. He'd mention it to his counselor the next time they talked. "When I realized he didn’t really love me, I used to miss you. So much.” Kurt didn’t want the memory of that time to affect him, but he felt a tear roll down his cheek anyway. “I used to dream of you running to my rescue.”

“I wanted to, Kurt! I wanted to! You have no idea!”

“I do,” Kurt said. “I do have an idea. Sebastian told me. He told me what you said, and I believe you. I believe that you did try, and for what it’s worth, I thank you.”

“But ...” Blaine said tightly.

“But that was a long time ago. There is no us anymore. And to tell you the truth …” Kurt swallowed hard. He didn’t want to hurt Blaine any more than he already was, but he needed to hear “... I don’t want there to be. What you and I had was beautiful while it lasted. But it was also naive and immature." Kurt looked over at Sebastian, still dead to the world, a crooked smile twisting his lips, smug and cocky, even in sleep. "I have new love in my life.”

He heard Blaine sigh.

“Sebastian.”

“Yes.” Kurt smiled. “He has my heart, Blaine, and I don’t want it back.”

Blaine laughed bitterly but not cruelly so. “He’s a lucky man. You’re pretty amazing. You can’t fault a man for trying.”

“Thank you."

Another silence. Kurt was afraid Blaine would withdraw, not go through with his plans to leave out of shame.

Go back to punishing himself the way he had for so many years.

“Blaine, I meant what I said. We’ll do whatever we can to help you. You need to get out of that toxic place. That goes without saying.”

“I know I do,” Blaine said. “Don't mind me. I'm just ... look, I should let you get back to sleep. I’ll call you at a more reasonable hour.”

“It’s fine. Call any time. But I thank you.”

Another sigh.

Another uncomfortable silence.

“I love you, Kurt. Do you ... love me? At all?”

"I ..." Kurt's voice hitched. He wanted to cry. How was he supposed to answer that? He had an answer, but he wasn't ready to give it. It required a level of maturity, forgiveness, and being okay with himself that he could see clearly from where he stood, but which he hadn't arrived at yet.

"I'm ... I'm sorry," Blaine backpedaled. "That wasn't fair. I shouldn't ask ..."

“Once you’re out of that house and somewhere healthy, I promise, I’ll answer your question.” Kurt’s voice was thick with emotion, a well that he'd been filling since high school, so deep that there was no dipping his toes in it. If he so much as swiped a hand across the surface, he'd fall in and drown. 

He desperately wished Sebastian was awake to hold him.

“Fair enough.” Blaine sounded defeated, but Kurt couldn’t help that. Even if Kurt were available, leaping from one relationship, especially one as destructive as his current one, straight into another wouldn't work. Even with someone he was convinced he loved. Blaine had a plethora of first steps he had to take. And, for the moment, he had to take them alone. “Good night, Kurt.”

“Good night, Blaine.”

Blaine ended the call before Kurt could say his name.

Kurt held the phone in his hands, staring at it with watery eyes. So many memories. So many emotions he hadn't entertained in ages. All of them just shadows. 

Fading shadows, disappearing with the light.

He saw them for what they were.

Nostalgia. Nothing more.

Kurt swore once, lying on his bed, drugged up and beaten to a pulp, that if he got a second chance, he'd jump at it - wrap his legs around it, hold on with both hands, and never let go. And he did.

Only that second chance didn't come with Blaine.

Kurt felt for Blaine. He really did. And as angry as he could get at him some times, Blaine didn't deserve the hand he was dealt. 

Kurt didn't see the life Blaine had suffered through as vengeance.

The two of them had more in common than Kurt would like to admit. Blaine had locked himself in his own prison, too. The difference was, where Kurt's had bars on the windows, Blaine's had flesh, blood, and a name.

But Kurt had found his freedom when Sebastian showed up on his doorstep. He hoped and prayed that however it came to him, Blaine might find his freedom again, too. And soon.

Kurt scooted towards the sleeping body of his boyfriend and curled against him. Sebastian hummed in his sleep, rolling over to gather Kurt in his arms. But sleeping against Sebastian wasn’t enough. Not right now.

“Sebastian?” Kurt murmured gently, coaxing him awake. “Sebastian? Could you please wake up?”

Sebastian groaned, then opened his eyes.

“What is it, gorgeous?” he mumbled, seeking out Kurt’s forehead and placing a kiss to the smooth skin.

“Can I be needy and clingy for a second?” 

“Of course.” Sebastian buried his nose in Kurt’s hair, breathed in deep. "What's up?"

“Don’t … don’t ever leave me. Please? I know that's not a healthy thing to ask. People change, they fall out of love, and that's completely natural. But ...”

Sebastian put a finger to Kurt's lips, quieting his anxious rambling. “I’m not planning on it.” Sebastian rolled on his back, taking Kurt with him, settling Kurt’s weight over his naked body. “You have my heart,” Sebastian continued with the slyest of grins dancing on his lips, “and I don’t want it back.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 105 prt 1

105

Lance felt as if he’d died all over again. He and Keith had spent the night under the stars after the opera, feeling like he’d died of happiness with Keith, before his boyfriend suggested they head home for the night as the first rays of morning started to creep across the sky. This was not the same kind of happy pleasant death thanks to Keith’s love. The Blades had had a successful mission, according to his boyfriend, but Lance felt too sick to care. This was the “Death warmed up” kind of death that really, really sucked balls. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, only able to reason it was a batch of bad blood, because it was definitely not the nice new slow release birth control capsule that sat in his arm. Keith had held his hand as he’d had it done, Coran springing it on the pair of them the day after the opera. Flushing the toilet, he was in the process of pushing himself off the floor when Matt came to his aid. Pulling him up on his feet, Lance nearly fainted at the change in sudden position

“You need to see Coran. It’s been a week, Lance. Keith is worried”

A whole week without Keith. After spending the night he’d spent the day with his Mami, then headed home. Keith was off desk duty, onto helping in the labs, between surveillance missions . His boyfriend could do anything he put his mind to... apart from be there with him.

“Mmm... I’m fine. Coran said there were side effects”

He was lying poorly. He wasn’t fine. Matt knew it. He’d been on his case about his scent being wrong when he’d come back home

“There’s side effects and then there’s this!”

“Just back off! Go fuck something or... something! Just get off my back!”

Starting to cry, he felt awful for what he’d said to Matt. He didn’t like his moodiness being directed so outward-sly when Matt only wanted to help

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that... I’m sorry...”

“Lance, you’re being stupid. You need to talk to Coran”

“I’ll... I... this was supposed to work...”

“And it’s not. You’re miserable. You’re barely eating and barely leaving your room”

“I’m sorry... I... I need to lay down for a bit... Can I call him once I’ve taken a nap?”

“Can I talk to him when you call him?”

Lance nodded, regretting doing so. He felt faint, but worse still was fact he threw up in his mouth as he nodded. His stomach was so fucking sore from all the vomiting he’d been doing

“Alright. Two hours. If you’re not up in two hours, I’m calling Coran”

“Okay... I’m sorry... This was supposed to work!”

Matt tried to hug him, Lance feeling sicker at the touch, forcing himself back from him. It wasn’t just with Matt. Anyone, other than Keith, made him feel physically revolted

“Coran might need to adjust the dose. It might be something as simple as that”

“I can’t think... I’m really... I need to lay down”

“Do you need me to get you anything? A bucket? You look pale as fuck, man”

“No... I need my bed... and my soil”

“That’s already on your bed, isn’t it?”

“Yeah... I’ll be okay... just give me a bit”

Lance left Matt for the safety of his bed. Blue had been by his side almost nonstop, as if she knew he really needed her and her toe beans. Crawling under the covers, he was buried under his blankets. Barely able to function, he’d been limited to messaging Keith, or falling asleep with Keith on the other end of the phone. His boyfriend was stressed over the side effects, that Lance was hoping would kindly go away before Keith’s birthday weekend. Keith’s present had finally arrived, the blade looked incredible, and well worth it’s price tag. He was super excited about giving it to Keith, knowing his boyfriend would love it.

Sleeping fitfully, Lance woke in a sweat. His clothes clinging to him as his stomach rolled and cramped. Downstairs he could hear Rieva scolding Matt, Curtis laughing at the pair of them. He must have come back from seeing Shiro in Platt. Curtis had been keeping a record of Lance’s condition, and reaction to the medication in his system. As far as they knew this was the kind of reaction to be expected initially. When his body got its shit together, they’d know more. He simply had to hang on until then.

Climbing out of bed, Lance held his stomach as he shuffled from his room. He’d promised Matt two hours, but now he was feeling even worse. The world was spinning. Everything stank like mould and dust. The light in the house was too bright... and his skin was itchy. Making it to the stairs, the room swayed heavily to the right, Lance going to the left to correct the feeling, foot missing the top stair...

*

“Keith, it’s Lance. Matt’s just rushed him in from Garrison. Something’s happens”

Whipping around to where Allura stood in the doorway of the lab, Keith was signing off on the trace reports from their clothes. The Blades had no use for them now that all trace had been collected. They were set for disposal, unless he wanted them, which he did. Not Lotor’s pet get up, no. These were clothes he’d worn as Lance’s pet. Letting the datapad slip through his fingers, his body started moving without thinking, until he was grabbing Allura by the shoulders

“What do you mean something happened to him? Where is he?”

“I don’t know. Coran’s rushed him through for emergency treatment. You’d been come”

Jogging through the halls, VOLTRON’s main infirmary was on the same level as the labs. What was only a few minutes walking felt somehow longer as Keith panicked hard. Lance had only just started on the contraceptive Coran designed for him, and somehow he couldn’t help but feel it was related to that. Reaching Matt, the werewolf was sitting on the floor crying. He’d never seen Matt cry like this... his alarm at the blood over Matt’s hands sent goosebumps across his skin. Whipping his head around, he found blood on the doorframe a little past Matt, feet carrying him towards it, before he was bursting into the medical room.

Laying limp on the bed, Coran and two others worked around Lance. The inside of Lance’s sweats dyed a deep red, blood smeared across his feet

“Allura, get him out of here!”

Keith flinched, pulled backwards from Lance at Coran’s command. His legs giving out in the hall, as the door between him and Lance was snapped closed. What was happening?! He could smell Lance’s blood. His stomach rolled. His lover was far sicker than he’d let on. Anger flaring, he wanted to move to Matt. To grab him by the shoulders and shake the truth out of him. He couldn’t. Allura draping herself around him, softly asking as she sniffled

“Matt, what happened?”

“I don’t know. He’s been sick for days. Throwing up nonstop. Barely eating. I... he wanted to take a nap. He promised we’d call Coran when he woke up... He... This is all my fault. I... I left him to nap... because he needed rest, and I... I heard him get up and then... then he fell down the stairs... There was so much blood. He wasn’t bleeding before. He was just feeling sick. I knew that... he... he smelt different lately... and I... I should have made him come sooner... this is my fault”

Matt started crying harder again, his hands in his hair as he curled in on himself. Keith shaking. He knew there were side effects. He knew it. Lance had been so happy, that he’d agreed. So happy that finally Coran had good news for them. He felt like he was finally going to be in control of his body, despite Keith not minding how he was already... unless there were vampires close to him.

It was a sickening long wait in the hallway. He and Allura curled up waiting with Matt, and Allura had taken Matt to clean the blood off him. There’d been so much... too fucking much. Bringing back watching Lance dive across to save them when Matt wolfed out. Finally the door opened, the three of them looking to Coran who stepped out with a weary sigh

“He’s going to be okay”

Coran was haggard, as if years had been stripped off of him, or his long life had finally caught up with him. Relief flooded through his body, as Keith used the wall to push himself up

“Can I see him?”

“He’s groggy, but awake, yes he’s stable. I’ve removed the capsule from his arm, and I have to warn you, he is extremely weak. I’ll analyse the capsule. I was sure the dosage was correct... Keith, can I speak with you for a moment?”

That didn’t sound good. Looking to Allura and Matt, they both nodded, Matt smiling through his tears

“We’ll wait here, man. Go see him, he’s been missing you”

Heading into medical room, the nurses finished up with Lance, before excusing themselves and closing the door behind them. The bed moved from the middle of the room, to jut out from the right side, Lance hooked up to too many machines. Rushing to his boyfriend side, Keith buried his face in Lance’s hair, wrapping his arm around his chest as he did

“Hey... mullet”

Slurring the words out, Lance was conscious enough to know it was him. Keith couldn’t help but hug him tighter

“You scared the fuck out of me you, dick”

Laughing weakly, Lance’s laughter broke off with a hiss of pain.

“I’m afraid he’s going to be staying with us for the next week. I have something very important to talk to you about”

Keith didn’t particularly care, as long as Lance was alright

“You said he was going to be okay”

“He is. But... I still need to monitor him closely. You see... how should I put this...”

Keith forced himself off Lance, hand sliding down to grip his boyfriend’s hand

“Just spit it out”

“I suppose I should say, I have to monitor them carefully”

What now? He didn’t get it. There was one Lance, not two... He could barely handle one Lance...

“You said you needed to monitor him...”

“Yes, well, you see...”

Lance got there first, slurring again, Keith jumping at his voice. His boyfriend really should be sleeping things off, he was a stubborn little bastard

“I’m pregnant?”

“At this stage. You and Keith are generally quite careful with the use of contraception, though that isn’t always effective. I look the liberty of running the test while the nurses made Lance comfortable”

Keith went wobbly at the knees. Air knocked out of him. Coran sadly continuing

“I can’t say how far along you are, and for today you need rest. I’ll organise an ultrasound for the first thing tomorrow morning so we can get a better view of the situation. I was stupid to accept that you’d been careful and not administer the test before implanting the capsule. For that, I cannot apologise enough”

Hold up. Just. Wait. What? He knew he sounded dumb, but... What?

“How?”

Coran sighed at him tiredly

“I know you know how sex works by now. Pulling out and use of condoms doesn’t guarantee that conception will not occur. In fact, I’d advise against the pull out method entirely, though... I expect you two need a moment to adjust to the news. For now we will keep this amongst ourselves. Lance lost a lot of blood, the pregnancy may no longer be viable. Keith, I’ll leave him in your hands. I want you to monitor him for any bleeding, or unusual behaviour. I need to run tests on the capsule and his blood, but he absolutely needs to stay in bed, no matter what he may say, or how he may act. Matt saved his life today. Had the bleed been sustained, he may have lost control of himself entirely”

Coran was talking a lot at him. The words lodging in brain without processing. They liked them. As them. Babies weren’t a thing they were ready for. That he was ready for. They didn’t even live together and they might as well be on different planets given how much they missed each other when they were apart. Coran moved to fetch over the examination stool, Keith sank heavily on to it. He literally no longer had the strength to remain standing. A baby... They’d been careful. He didn’t know how... He didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll leave you two for now. If anything happens, press the red buzzer above the bed. It’ll alert the staff. Don’t worry, my sweet boys. We’ll work this out together”

What about the fall? What about all the blood? There’d been so much blood? Keith felt numb. Someone had once said that humans only have three main emotions; happiness, anger, and sadness. Every other emotion was like a colour on the spectrum, made from those three emotions. What a load of crap. He didn’t know where his emotions apparently fell, but he did know he wasn’t any of them, and all of them at the same time.

Left alone with his boyfriend, Lance watched him. Keith holding his hand tightly as he had been when he’d first taken it in his

“Babe... dun... worry... ‘m okay”

“How is any of this okay?!”

Lance was hooked up to monitors, two IV’s running into his left arm. His face was bruised, and there was a light weight casting around his left wrist. He looked how Keith had expected him to look after he’d fought Lotor. Not fallen down a set of stairs. Fucking stupid stairs. What was Matt thinking leaving Lance like this?! He’d been so ill. Did Matt not care about Lance?! Was all of this some fucking joke? He should have brought him in sooner. Lance... was having a baby... their baby...

Wearily, Lance squeezed his hand with all the strength of a human, proving how weak he was

“I’m... sorry... I thought... It’d pass... in a few... days”

The words were taking so much effort on Lance’s part. Chest heaving as a machine beeped at them, Keith softly scolding his boyfriend

“You should have told me sooner. You never tell me”

“Got worse today... Keith... I... don’t know what to do... a... baby... I...”

Tears rolled down Lance’s tilted face. His boyfriend sniffling, he didn’t have the strength to wipe them away. Keith knew he probably shouldn’t climb up next to him, but Lance really needed him right now and needed to hold his boyfriend... despite the part of him that wanted to run until his head had cleared and the whole thing had sunk in. It felt so surreal. It wasn’t a near miss. It was the real thing. Letting go of Lance’s hand, his boyfriend whimpered softly at the loss. When he moved the blankets, Lance scrunched his eyes closed, as if he expected Keith to turn on him, or throw him out the bed.

Settling carefully beside Lance, Keith laid on his side, forehead against his boyfriend’s. He knew Lance was trying to work up the strength to apologise again, his hand coming up to cup Lance’s cheek as he rubbed at the tear mark with the pad of his thumb

“You need to rest. Then we can talk about this”

“I’m...”

“You’re exhausted”

And Keith needed to think. He’d been planning on surprising Lance dressed in the same clothes he’d worn as a pet for a laugh. Not having Lance rushed here by Matt, and having to be made to feel useless at the sight of all that blood

“Baby...”

“We’ll work it out”

“I... sorry...”

“Shhh, enough apologising. You can apologise when you’re awake enough to know you don’t need to”

*

Lance fell asleep next to him, Keith unable to sleep. Somehow his hand had found its way to Lance’s belly, his boyfriend whining softly in his sleep when he caught himself and went to move it. A baby was not part of their plans. Not in the middle of all this shit. He wasn’t father material. He didn’t know how that worked. He’d enjoyed having what he had with Lance. He couldn’t be like Krolia. He couldn’t leave Lance with the responsibility of raising a child alone, but he couldn’t turn his back on what was happening.

When Shiro finally arrived, his brother had brought flowers. Keith wondering if Coran hadn’t been able to keep the secret over their news. Matt had probably heard everything. What was he doing now? Telling everyone? Laughing at them for getting themselves into the situation? He couldn’t work out when it would have happened. He prided himself on his ability to take care of Lance through his heats. Carrying the flowers over, Shiro placed them at the end of Lance’s bed near his feet

“Hey, kiddo. Is he going to be okay?”

How was Keith supposed to know? Lance was male, turned breeder because of him. Surely there was bound to be all kinds of complications

“I don’t know”

“Matt told me he drove Lance here. Something about having a bad reaction?”

His brother was probing for information. Keith had the answers but not the desire to disclose them

“Something like that”

Shiro sat on the opposite side of Lance’s bed. Keith nearly slapping his hand away as his brother felt for signs of a fever

“Coran mentioned he’d be here for a few days. Did you know he was sick?”

“A little... Coran said there’d be side effects and Lance just thought it was normal...”

“Krolia’s worried. She got the call before me and left the mission ahead of time. She’s sitting in the hall, no ones allowed in without going past her”

What right did his mother have to be there?

“The flowers are actually from her. She didn’t want to upset you by coming in. She offered to pick up Miriam if Lance was up for visitors”

“Not today. Maybe tomorrow”

Tomorrow when they’d have a clear idea what was going on... hang on

“You saw Matt?”

“Yeah. He said Lance wanted to lay down, then got up again and fell down the stairs. He was burning up, crying for you”

Keith wished Shiro hadn’t told him that. He wasn’t there when Lance needed him... It felt fucking awful. No wonder Lance had made a huge fuss over his accident

“Did he say anything else?”

“Lance was bleeding, and pretty out of it... I know you’re probably angry at him, but right now no one is angrier about it all than Matt. Coran’s got Allura staying with him until Rieva can come up from her shift. Did Coran say anything else?”

More than Shiro could imagine. His brother’s hand had gone from Lance’s forehead to resting on his hair

“We won’t know more until tomorrow”

“Alright. Would you like me to stay?”

No

“Yeah... just... I don’t think I can leave him..”

“You don’t have to. As Lance would say, “I’ll punch anyone in the dick if they try to make you leave””

Keith snorted wetly, appreciative of Shiro’s attempt at humour

“He’s strong, right?”

“Yeah. He’s strong, and he’s going to be okay. The blood bag is a little low, I might let the staff know”

Keith hadn’t noticed. He was supposed to be monitoring Lance’s condition. How could he be a dad if he couldn’t do this one simple thing?!

“Hey, I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now, but this isn’t your fault. Not everyone has extreme reactions to things. Lance is different and he’s special. This won’t keep him down, you know that”

“I’m not so sure”

“I’ll have to be sure for all of then”

Over the night, Keith had too many visitors. Matt came with Allura. Coran popped in like clockwork, insisting he rest or eat. Keith moving off the bed to sit on the stool, falling asleep with his right hand on Lance’s belly and his left holding Lance’s hand, his cheek laying against it. Waking to fingers playing with his hair, he yawned as he blinked, back protesting the awkwardness of his sleeping position. Staring across the room, Lance was the one playing with his hair. Shiro was snoring where he sat against the wall with a blanket up to his shoulders. His brother staying as he said he would

“Babe?”

Shifting his gaze down to him, Lance’s blue eyes hurt to see. He seemed so utterly defeated. Rising from the chair, Keith climbed back into bed beside him, pulling him close. Any other time he’d be making a joke about his coordination without coffee. Yet somehow, he was more awake than he should be. That look in Lance‘s driving away his fatigue

“I’m sorry...”

“Shhh...”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t even suspect. I’ve gone and ruined everything”

“No. No, you haven’t”

“Did... did I lose it?”

How long had Lance been awake wondering that?

“Coran won’t know until he does an ultrasound”

“I’m so fucking scared. I don’t know how... we... were careful”

“I know we were... I know, babe”

“You must hate me... but I didn’t know... I didn’t”

Lance started to weep, drawing his knees up as Keith kissed his hair

“I know. I believe you”

“How could I not know?!”

“Shhh... Stress isn’t good for you...”

Keith swallowed hard, forcing out the words that felt weird in his mouth

“... or the baby”

“I don’t know how to do this”

“You think I do? Fuck. When Allura came to get me... I get how you felt now... not being there. I should have come when you first started feeling sick”

“It... wasn’t... that bad until yesterday...”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I thought it was just the side effects... then I woke up feeling wrong... I went to get Matt...”

So Lance had tried to do the right thing? He’d recognised, all be it late, that something more was going on

“Shhh... okay. I get it”

“I’m sorry...”

“You don’t need to be sorry. Coran’s going to come check on in on you. Allura and Matt visited. Shiro slept here. None of them think you did anything wrong”

“But I still made everyone worry”

“Idiot. We love you. Of course we’re going to worry”

Lance sniffled

“I’m being so selfish. I haven’t even asked if you’re okay”

Keith could lie. He could lie and comfort Lance by pretending to be strong... yet he couldn’t do that. He had to be honest with the man he loved

“I don’t know what I am... other than confused and scared”

“What do we do?”

“We wait. We see what the ultrasound says... and we figure it out”

“And what... if they’re...”

“Either way, we’ll work it out”

Lance clutched up at him, Keith relieved his lover’s strength had started to return

“I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think... I want to lose them”

Keith swallowed down the emotions choking his throat. He didn’t know if Lance meant it or not, and Lance wasn’t in the right frame of mind to question him

“Okay... okay... I’m here. I’m staying. We’ll figure this out”

“I love you... so much... I wanted this in the future... I feel so guilty for it happening now”

“You’re getting worked up again. Coran wants to you stay as calm as you can. We can’t do anything for now”

“I’m still really tired”

“You nap. I’ll be here holding you”

“You really are the best boyfriend ever...”

[yn-dreamlife]

Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader Part: 1

This Chapters Warnings: angst, violence, heat, pain, friend fingering (consensual), friend giving oral (consensual female receiving),

Description: You thought the day you met your true mate would be the best day of your life but turns out its the worst. While your best friend Sam try’s to help fix the problem his brother caused another unwanted alpha comes around. 

Part one

{Your P.O.V}

In all my years I never thought I would find him. Let alone on a hunt, but here I am standing in front of him, his scent smelling like leather apple pie and hints of whiskey. It was the sent of home. He was so close but he didn’t move nether could I.

I took a step forward but he quickly took two back. I could help the pang in my heart as I watched the green eyes I’ve seen on dreams fill with fear. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Watching as he continued to back away slowly as of afraid I was a animal ready to pounce.

I sniffed the air I could even smell the fear, the discomfort. I didn’t move an inch as I watched the alpha walk away from me. My heart felt like it was ready to explode. But not the way all the people described it when first meeting there person, there true mate.

I imagined it so many times. We would see each other and feel the unstoppable pull. He would smell like home, wed instantly click and we’d be together forever. But now here he was getting into a car and staying as far away from me as possible. I used al my willpower to rip my eyes off of him onto my best friend.

Sam Winchester. I smiled at him walking over him letting the cool night air be the thing to blame for the tears. I walked two paces before I sprinted to his open arms. He knew exactly what had happened and hated his brother for it. You both had been hunting all your lives and both your parents left you with Bobby. You two bonded, grew very close.

He put together you and dean weren’t meant to be by certain things you both said. Both mentioning a lingering scent that was unlike anything you ever smelled before. It being so close but so far. Always having it be at Bobby’s. He wanted so badly to see you both happy, so badly he forgot that his brother was a stubborn asshole. He knew Dean would do anything to stay away from love.

“I’m sorry y/n/n.” Sam whispered softly.

“What can I say. I wouldn’t want me ether...” I sniffed. “I think I should just go back to the motel, try and forget about this. I’ll see you around Sammy.” He felt his own heart ache, your words hurt him. He knew that in your heart you truly believed it was something you had done.

He watched you walk away and drive off towards your hotel. But knowing you you wouldn’t go there at least not yet. He hated seeing the pain written all over your face. He knew you hated showing the omega in you but all he could see was that small omega and how she was now broken. Broken at the thought of her alpha rejecting her.

I pulled over to the side of a road my black car easily being hidden in the night. I sobbed, whimpered and begged. It got to the point i even prayed. Prayed for the pain to leave but it never did. My alpha rejected me, and there was no fixing that pain. Well there was one way but I knew it would never happen. After an hour I got back into my car and drove to my motel. What made it worse was when I saw the beautiful black impala dean had been sitting in hours before was parked in the parking lot.

I ignored the pull I felt and locked myself away into my room. I ignored the way my heart clenched when even the faintest smell of him was wafted in by the cool night breeze. I ignored my body’s begging for basic things like food and water. All I did was lay in my bed emotionless and numb. Because by now I shed all the tears I could.

I woke up to the ringing of a phone. It was my phone it was laying merely inches away from me but I couldn’t get the strength to pick it up. After it rang three more times you heard a knock on the door. The familiar scent of Sam wafted under the door. I just curled in on myself even tighter.

I heard the familiar sound of a lock being picked and suddenly the door opened. I felt the bed dip and a gentle hand was placed on my shoulder. I didn’t move an inch, nor did I protest as Sam lifted me up onto his lap.

“Y/n, I know it hurts but you have to eat.” Sam spoke as he now tried to feed me applesauce and Mac cheese. I just shook my head slightly my lips staying together.

“Eat,” Sam spoke using his alpha voice. He hated using it on me but he knew it would work. Obediently I opened my mouth just enough for him to slip the spoon in. I chewed and swallowed it fell into my stomach like led. “Thank you.” He whispered. I cuddled into him the way I had a million times before.

We both knew we were and never could be more than best friends. It just was how we where. Sams phone rang and he answered as he continued to hold and feed me like a small pup.

“I’m fine, I’m taking care of the mess you made.” Sam growled lowly. I felt it in his chest. I knew who he was talking to, it was Dean.

“Alpha.” I whimpered. I knew he heard it. I knew the second Sams arms tightened around em that dean did not answer in kind.

“She is dean and you know it! You just won’t admit it!” Sam hung up the phone and I whimpered again. Fresh tears sprinting to my eyes.

It felt like he rejected me all over again, because he did. This time it was worse. A headache so bad I almost passed out suddenly found its way into my head. My stomach cramped and I felt as if I was shot. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like when heats start but 10x worse now that I knew my alpha didn’t want me.

“Why dosent he want me Sam? I just want him to want me, he can still be with as many other omegas as he wants. I just want him to want me.” I whimpered.

Sams hand moved into my hair which he began soothingly petting. “Because he’s a stubborn bastard y/n.” Sam solemnly spoke I cried. Never in my life had I felt so weak. I cried to the point of exhaustion and I finally passed out.

I woke up alone once again. Part of me was happy, as much as I loved Sams presence the lingering scent of Dean was always on him. Suddenly I realized why all the symptoms of a heat came up yesterday, it’s because today it was here.

It started as just me begging hotter than usual the thin band T becoming a bit warmer than I liked and the cotton shorts sticking a bit to much. Then the cramps hit, feeling exactly like they did yesterday but even worse they weren’t just in my stomach they where all over. The swarmed through my body going from my toes to my neck. I whimpered when a fresh wave hit me.

I couldn’t think of anything I heard a knock on the door I knew it was Sam I had texted him the morning saying to meet me for lunch hoping to talk. Without thinking I opened the door completely bare.

“Help,” I whimpered. As I fell into him. He quickly closed the door laying me in my nest. “Hurts.” I whispered.

“I-I know I know I’m gonna help you okay?” He thought for a long moment I knew he could smell the wave of slick that rushed down my thighs. “Y/n I need your permission before I do anything,” I nodded knowing what he was asking. He had done it before during one of your first heats.

He quickly slipped in between my legs and began lapping at my folds. I moaned slightly but it wasn’t enough and Sam knew that he moved to my clit while inserting two fingers inside moving against my g-spot. He moved quickly and precisely, he may be an alpha but his need to protect you was stronger than his partial need to want to knot you.

He watched as you grew closer and closer not being able to help the small satisfied feeling he got as he made you orgasm. My eyes rolled back as pleasure came over me. He quickly grabbed a cool wet wash cloth wiping me clean.

“T-thank you Sam...” I whispered embarrassed. “I’m sorry you had to do that again.”

“Don’t be y/n/n I’m always gonna help you. And I’ll be here through your whole heat if you need me.” I nodded moving to bathroom to take a long cold shower.

{Sams P.O.V}

I watched as y/n moved to the bathroom quickly heading back to my room to grab my things when I entered I found dean sitting on his bed. He quickly got up pinning my to the wall his hand on my throat.

“What did you do.” He growled.

“I took care of her!” I yelled back pushing him off me. “Unlike you!” I spat. I quickly began packing up my stuff.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He roared.

“Going to help my best friend because her true alpha won’t!” I said back just as loud. He bared his teeth at me growling again.

“Mine.”

“No dean she’s not! Because you won’t let her! If I don’t help her she. Will. Die.” I knew it was true, after finding her alpha and not being able to have him, it would kill her.

Dean said nothing as he quickly left the room. I saw him walking to y/n’s room and quickly followed.

{Deans P.O.V}

“Fuck it” I growled as I knocked on y/n’s door. When she didn’t answer I quickly moved to pick the lock.

“What are you doing?!” Sam growled behind me I turned and hated my teeth at him again showing him to back off.

“Taking care of my ‘mega.”

When I came in the room I instantly growled. There was another alpha in here and in wasnt Sam.

[bowieandqueen11]

Underwater / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Request: May I request an Adult Ben Hanscom imagine where the reader, who is married to Ben, is down in the sewer with the Losers and gets pulled under water by Penniwise? Our man Ben needs some reassurance from his wife that she's okay. Fluffyness! 🥰 

@may85 eek thank you darling!! <3

Warning, some swearing!

You wished, with all your heart, that you never had to smell the stench of this place again.

When you all finally arrived into the depths of the sewer, Mike and Bill leading the way as everyone else trailed so slowly, so unsure, behind them, that’s when you finally allowed your heart to sink.

This was real. This was actually happening. You’re no longer thirteen, you no longer have an excuse, a way out, a way to forget this. You either die here, or you die out there. 

The water the gang jumps down into is a turbid brown, the colour of sewage, or as Eddie fondly calls out again,

‘It’s still the same old fucking grey water.’ 

Branches have been blow in by the storm, and you gag a little, pressing your face into your husband’s thick back as he raises his eyebrows, wrapping one arm around your own as the two of you watch a small, glittery pink shoe swirl pass, like a relic from a time long forgotten as it floats by without a ripple.

‘Was that- was that Betty Rip-’

‘Don’t think about it hun’, Ben whispers, his thumb trying to tenderly stroke against the goosebumps that flash painfully against your arm, but his grip is tighter than he realises and he ends up digging in a small welt. The water eddies around them, but not that relaxed way water usually does: harshly, more like mini vortexes. You can hear Richie swear softly in front of you as Eddie bumps into him, loud ‘ah-ah, nope nope nope’s escaping his mouth as a half chewed teddy bear floats by his chest.

‘Come on guys, we need to get out of the water, it’s n-not f-far now.’

‘Is that supposed to reassure us?’, Richie whispers with a sigh, slapping his wet leg up onto the jagged stone mound as Eddie reaches down to help him up, his flashlight bouncing around on his head and illuminating different patches of the water in a shimmering light that reminds you of-

the deadlights.

Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat you know. It takes what it does not need. The water surges around your skin, rising up my leg on one side, making tiny eddies on the other the further you follow your friends. The weight of the water is almost enough to topple you, the temperature a dare, as if you were racing hypothermia with each wade through its murky depths. In front of you, your husband shivered against your arm, the water so cold it stung into his hips and flattened his shirt against him painfully. Every touch stole another part of his heat, leaching away a few more fractions of a degree. It crept up the fabric of his pants, clamping the icy fibres to his already frigid skin. But he kept going, because he knew in doing this, he could save you. And if killing a clown meant your nightmares would end, that you would be safe again, he would take on the universe one monster at a time.

Sensing your hesitation as the two of you finally start approaching the giant wall of rock where Eddie and Richie stand, brushing each other off with grimaced faces, Ben slowly turns around and pulls you slowly to him, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around your shaking body. The world around seemed to melt away as you squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through your veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside you.

‘I can’t do this Ben, not again, not after last time. What I saw-I saw-’

‘You are so brave, sweetheart, but this time, I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Plus,’ he says, elbowing you slightly with the biggest smile he can muster at the moment, ‘if you see the deadlights, I’ll just have to kiss you again to pull you out and back to me.’

‘Ben Hanscom, I swear!’, you mutter with a hoarse laugh, pulling your arms around his neck and burying your head into the curve of his shoulder. You just needed a moment, just one more moment with your husband in your arms, his hands tight against your hips, safe. 

Everything was okay.

Through the darkness behind your head came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground, if only Ben’s had been open to see them, and if only Richie and Eddie hadn’t been having a mock fight over who’s married to who’s mother.. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The monster advanced on them, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the sewer. With each slow movement that belied the speed it was capable of, slime dripped, oozing great globs of phlegm and depositing them with light splashes into the water; it’s skin was gnarled, but crumpled and folded as if in the midst of changing form. Over it's belly lay crusty flaps of concave skin. The beast reeked of raw sewage and rotten fish. A smell that hit your nose with a rancid pang only a few seconds before it had reached the edge of your shoulder, and Ben had drawn himself away from his warm daydreams of you to open his eyes.

In a split second, it had torn you from Ben’s grasp and dragged you down into the depths with it.

Darkness enveloped you. The water closed in around, filling you with a deep dread as you kicked out against it’s knobbly arms and screamed against the claws that dug into your cheek and left bubbling scratches. Red and black splotches danced in front of you as you gave the clown one final desperate kick in the shin, wiggling out of its grasp as a desperate hot wave enveloped you, warming even your frosted toes. Your heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was apparent than ever. There weren't red blotches in your field of vision anymore. It was all black. You opened her mouth, gasping for air, fighting until you feel like your head is about to explode. You have to take a breath. So you do. For some reason it doesn’t hurt like you thought it would. You’re not scared anymore, it’s almost peaceful actually. 

You begin to fall, dropping further and further into the darkness until it threatens to swallow you whole.

Ben knows he’s scared when those old fears run through my head, when he hears the taunting laughter of years past, when he was the ‘fat kid’ and punchline of teenage jokes. He knows he’s scared when these bad memories cut loose their chains and invade his confidence, eroding the person he had built since those dark days. 

But this time was so much worse.

The adrenaline flew over his veins like licks of fire, but he couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralysed him, and the more he thought about losing you, the more he thought each straggling breathe he pulled in as he dipped his head up above the water would be his last. If you died, he was going to die too. He didn’t remember being that scared in his life.

The rest of the group jump in after you with desperate cries, not one of them caring in the smallest bit for their safety as their stomachs and heads hit against the cold with tumultuous crashes and wake Ben from his nightmare, his own head being pulled down by his brain to desperately search for you in the darkness. Even Eddie dipped his legs in, not really swimming to search for you  so much as drowning slowly. Every few strokes he was swallowing the shitty water and within metres he was fully submerged, the light dying out with him.

It took you a few moments to register that there were other shapes, big square blocks floating around in the water with you. Something in the back of your mind seemed to recognise the sandy curls that brushed against your forehead, the callused and raw hands that grabbed at your biceps, every pinprick touch registering a shock to your skin as you allowed yourself to be taken away. You thought, as you see the face of your husband warp in front of you, that angels had finally come to take you away.

As the two of you break out of the water, Ben taking in a massive, gasping breathe, his shouts echo around the cavernous walls as the other’s begin to rise up one by one with shaking cries.

‘She’s here! She’s here, I’ve got her! I’ve got you.’

In that simple moment he wrapped his arms around you and you let your head rest upon his chest. All your thoughts stopped as if your heart took over from your head, your breathe beginning to catch itself as water spluttered up from your lungs and escaped in gasping coughs out of your lips. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check you were really there with him, really there and really real.

You looked sharply up as he took your hands into his. They felt like sandpaper or perhaps stone, rough and unfinished. It suited him, you thought, looking into his deep eyes, his hands warm in yours as he brought them up to his lips, your nerves tingling at the harsh comfort of contact, your body melting into his hard chest, his heartbeat comforting, if a little rushed for your liking.

‘It’s okay, Ben, I’m okay.’

You pull your head back to look at him, your heart sinking as you reach up with a shaking finger to wipe away the tears that littered down his cheek, his lips twitching as your touch brings more relief than his heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he can't quite believe you’re not part of an almost forgotten dream. When he leans down to kiss you, it's sweet, gentle, and it tastes of his salty tears as he laughs against your warm mouth.

‘Hey, what did I say about not leaving you alone ever again? Please, don’t go, don’t go ever again, I couldn’t take it.’

[adrenaline-roulette]

Love of My Life

This is a cute little one shot that I uploaded to AO3 ages ago. It only just occurred to me that I never posted it here, so here ya go, I hope you all enjoy  a little bit of soft domestic Rog!

Word count: 2k +

❤❤❤❤❤

You wake up to a red-hot pain searing through your leg, the muscle spasming and cramping against the soft mattress you had been sleeping comfortably on just moments ago. “Fuck!” You screech, sitting bolt upright against your pillows, suddenly wide awake, tears springing to your eyes. The body sleeping beside you stirs as you jostle them in your sudden movement, though they remain asleep. You breathe deeply as you reach your arm out to massage your calf, though it’s difficult to bend that way when you’re seven months pregnant. “Roger… Jesus Christ Roger, wake up!” You hiss, smacking his shoulder none to lightly in order to wake him.

“Huh? Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it the baby? I’m not ready! We haven’t packed anything yet!” Roger all but cries, as he too sits up in a flash, surely giving himself whiplash as he does so. He looks around in the dark, fumbling his hand over the nightstand until he connects with the lamp, switching it on and allowing for a warm glow to chase away the midnight shadows of the room.

You want to laugh at his panic, want to reassure him that you still have time before the baby arrives, though you stop short when another spasm shoots through your leg. “Rog, it’s a cramp not the baby. I just can’t reach to massage it out!” You whine, throwing your head back and frowning, as your toes are stretched into an en pointe position. Sweat beads form on your brow as you breathe more deeply, if anyone were to walk in on you now, they would likely think you had in fact gone into an early labour! “Just, ugh! Please help!” You whimper, as you feel him moving next to you. This wasn’t the first time this had occurred, in fact this was the second time this week! It seemed the further along in your pregnancy you got, the worse the cramps became. The one earlier this week had been utter torture, it had been a cramp in your thigh, something you had never experienced before, and it left you stiff for days afterwards. At least this time it was just another calf cramp, those you could deal with,

Roger slides off his side of the bed, shoving his glasses over his nose. He was adamant that he didn’t need glasses to see, though you knew better, and created the rule that when he was home with just you, he was required to wear his glasses, in an effort to at least somewhat preserve his eyesight. “Alright I’ve got this.” He mumbles to himself, as he kneels down beside the bed, wrapping his warm hands around your straining leg. “Drink some water, I read that it will help with the cramps.” He suggests, as he rubs his thumbs against the muscle. It had taken him a few tries to know exactly what would help you in these situations, though after the fourth cramp, he knew where to apply pressure, and how much pressure was beneficial to you.

Diligently, Roger sits by your side for around ten minutes, massaging your leg, then helping to stretch out your foot once the initial cramping had ceased. It felt wonderful to be able to bend your knee again, a luxury you would never take for granted again. With the sweat now gone, your tears now dried, and your leg now once more mobile, you look at Roger, offering him a weak smile.

“Thank you Rog. I- I don’t know what I would do without you.” You murmur, as you move to swing your legs off the side of the bed, your feet resting against his knees as he continues to kneel on the floor beside the bed.

He grins his cheeky face up at you, blonde hair a mess from sleep, though it only added to his overall appeal. “Hey now Y/N, it’s what I’m here for. Besides, if you’ve got to grow this baby, the least I can do is massage your leg!” He chuckles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your ankle, causing your toes to curl in appreciation.

You reach a hand down to him, and his fingers hook between yours as he pulls himself into a standing position. “Are you worried?” You ask with a gentle smile. He frowns at your question, unsure as to what you were referring to. “About the baby I mean. You uh, seemed a little panicked when I woke you up before. I mean, we still have time to get everything ready, but about not having packed anything. At the end of the day, if the baby decides it’s ready to be born, I don’t think our number one priority should be bringing the perfect outfit.” You smirk, as you rub a small circle into the back of his hand.

He looks down at his feet, shuffling them against the carpet, before meeting your eyes once more. “I think I’m more excited than nervous.” He finally says, squeezing your hand once. “It’s just that, I want everything to be perfect when she arrives. I suppose I keep thinking that when the time does come, I’ll forget something. Probably something important knowing me, like the car keys.” You roll your eyes at that, wanting to shake some sense into the silly man.

“Rog, we won’t forget anything, I promise. If it makes you feel any better, we can pack some essentials in the morning, just in case?” You suggest, and you grin as his face lights up eagerly, all signs of worry and stress leaving his soft features. “Now come here.” You command, patting the empty bed space beside you. “We have roughly two months until this little one is born, and we still haven’t decided on a name yet!”

Roger launches himself onto the bed, flying over you and landing heavily on his side, the entire bed moving as he lands. You frown as you wobble unsteadily, the baby kicking your stomach in annoyance at her dad. “Alright, names, this I can do!” He promises, as he leans his head against his hand, propping his elbow up on his pillow and facing you. You slowly move down onto your side, mimicking his position and grinning at him.

“Well then, let’s hear what your suggestions are then. And no, before you ask, we are not naming her Rogerina.” You can see he’s about protest your decision, though you raise a challenging eyebrow, and you watch as the fight quickly leaves him.

“Fine, how about Galileo? I never did find out who Galileo was…” He trails off, and you smack his bicep, at a complete loss for words at his stupidity, surely Brian had told him exactly who Galileo was?

“Galileo Galilei, was for starters a man, and is one of the most famous astronomers to have ever lived! Honestly Roger, did you pay any attention is school?” You groan deeply, pressing your palm over your eyes.

Roger looks at you seriously for a few moments, your explanation did sound oddly familiar, and he found himself remembering Brian all but yelling at him in the recording studio after having asked who Galileo was, he felt he had a right to know who he was considering he had been singing his name non-stop for the past hour! “Alright fine then, so you don’t like Rogerina, and you don’t like Galileo, I’m running out of names here Y/N!”

“How about we compromise hm? If we ever get a dog, then we can call him Galileo or her Rogerina, how does that sound?” He’s going to drive you insane at this rate, the temptation to just leave and live out the rest of your life in Antarctica was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

“Sold!” He cheers, as he leans over and presses a soft kiss against your lips, pulling away before either of you can take it any further. You pull your hand away from your face, eyes falling on his as you both just lay on the bed together, neither talking, just enjoying the comfort of being close to one another. “On a serious note, how about Lillian? Or Charlotte?” He smiles, reaching out and resting a hand against your rounded stomach, rubbing your bump through your cotton shirt, which was at least three sizes too big for you, but was ever so comfortable to sleep in.

“Where did those names come from?” You tilt your head slightly to look down at his calloused hand against you stomach, placing your free hand over his.

He looks up at you, shrugging his shoulders in response. “Honestly I’m not sure. I think there might have been a Charlotte at the studio we last recorded in, and Lillian, well I know you love lilies, so it seemed fitting.” There’s a blush creeping up his neck, and slowly spreading over his cheeks as he explains his name suggestions, and you can’t help but smile, feeling your heart flutter in your chest. Sometimes you forget just how romantic Roger can truly be. He always puts on such a tough exterior, but every now and then he does something so extraordinarily sweet and thoughtful, that you almost forget that he’s the same person.

“Both names are beautiful Rog, maybe she could be Lillian Suzanne Taylor? My Nana was named Suzanne, and I wouldn’t mind incorporating a name from my family.” You bite your lip as you wait for him to mull over your daughter’s future name.

“Taylor? We’re going with my last name?” He asks, eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

You frown in confusion. “Of course Taylor, I mean I know we aren’t married, or even engaged. But I figured one day we might be, and I thought it could be nice to have our daughter have your last name, that way in the future we will all be Taylor’s…” You ramble, feeling your face flush in embarrassment. Maybe this was the wrong assumption to make? The pregnancy itself had been a bit of a surprise, though you had both decided it would work out for the best. Marriage, however, hadn’t been mentioned in anything other than fleeting conversations about the distant future. Roger’s lips are covering yours suddenly, both of his hands cupping your cheeks as you feel what you assume are tears running down your cheeks. They aren’t your tears though, these are all Roger’s. He pulls away from your lips, his baby blues swimming with unshed tears, before he moves down the bed somewhat, resting both of his hands on either side of your stomach.

“You hear that, you’re going to be Lillian Suzanne Taylor! And when you’re born, I’m going to propose to your mother, and then we’ll be a family on paper as well as in practise! And then when we get the dog, we’ll be a perfect family!” He gushes, pressing kisses to your stomach, as you run your hand through his blonde locks.

“So, you’re going to marry me, are you?” You tease, as he finally pulls away from your stomach, where he had been mumbling sweet nothings to your unborn daughter. He looks up at you with a shy smile playing on his lips.

“Well, I had planned on doing so. I don’t have a ring or anything at the moment, but say for instance I was to propose to you, would you say yes?”

You grin at him. “Of course I would say yes you idiot!” You giggle, as your lips meet once more, his hands resting against your hips as he slides you closer to him.

“Cool, good to know, I’ll keep that in mind.” He smirks, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I love you Y/N, I love you with my entire being.” He whispers, holding you closer, pressing soft kisses to your nose.

“I love you too Roger, and I know you’re going to be an amazing father when the time comes.” You assure him, as you scrunch up your nose at his kisses.

You lay in his embrace, both dozing on and off until the early hours of the morning, neither of you bothering to crawl back under the doona covers you had stripped off earlier, and despite the bedside lamp glaring into your eyes, you didn’t want to disturb Roger and ask him to turn it off. “Psst, Rog are you awake?” You murmur against his ear, watching as a sleepy frown slips over his brow.

“Mhm, I’m awake.” He all but yawns in response, his arms instinctively pulling you closer to him. He blinks his eyes open, searching for you for a moment, his glasses askew on his face from where he had pressed up against the pillow.

“Do you know if we still have any mint ice cream in the freezer?” You ask, the question catching him off guard, and you watch as the confusion crosses his face. “It’s not for me, it’s for Lillian!” You quickly defend, knowing he’s only seconds away from moaning about your ridiculous cravings. He rolls away from you to face the edge of the bed, pushing himself up to stand, all the while muttering under his breath about the injustice of the world. You close your eyes as he shuffles out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“Stop complaining! Do it for your daughter!” You laugh out to him when you hear the freezer door close rather sharply.

“If my daughter isn’t careful, she will be called Galileo and the dog can be Lillian!” He calls back.

“Not gonna happen!” You giggle, as you wriggle up into a sitting position, tapping your fingers lightly against your stomach, feeling Lillian kick at the sensation. “We’re so excited to meet you Lillian, and you’re going to have the most amazing daddy in the world.” You whisper, as you settle back with a content smile on your lips, knowing that your little family was going to be just perfect.

My Masterlist

[ddaeng-181338]

Cold | 12

Wolf! AU

☾ Min Yoongi x Reader

☾ Enemies To lovers

☾word count: 3.3k

Yoongi hated you the moment you joined the pack and that was that

Warnings: explicit sex - Heat Day 1 — tub sex, rough sex, messy? Lol uhh lots of swearing? Jk only a little. Basically this is some filthy shit and I’m not even ashamed 😂

A/n: it’s been months since I’ve last updated this story. I’m sure a lot of you have probably forgotten about it lol. But it’s here now, and it’s here to stay for a while. Weekly updates are going to *attempt* to be a thing again so please look forward to that! Enjoy~

Sun was filtering through the curtains when your eyes opened, you groaned inwardly as your whole body felt on fire, hormones through the roof as you wanted nothing more than to be relieved of the pressure. “Yoongi.” Was all you got out, arm reaching behind you awkwardly as you attempted to wake the sleeping man up. A muffled groan left him as you rolled over , eyes opening slowly as a low growl left his lips. You could see the hunger in his eyes, his nose twitching as he took in your scent.

“Already?” His voice was groggy, body reacting to your needs before his mind could even process being awake. “Yes…” you huffed, turning over so you were facing him “help me please.” His eyes were barely open but that didn’t stop him from pulling you closer, hand gripping your hip as he brought his lips to yours.

He moved over so he was hovering over you, your legs opening without thought so he could fit easily between them. You nipped at his bottom lip, tugging at it as you wrapped both arms tightly around his neck. It was easy with him, surprisingly easy. As if you had known him your whole life. You two fit together like puzzle pieces.

“I love you.” Despite the cramping in your abdomen, despite the sweat covering your skin. You felt compelled to tell the man you loved him. “I love you too baby.” His moved from your lips to your neck, nose brushing against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. “Is it too soon to mark you?” His lips nipped softly at the sensitive skin, the feeling sending sparks through your whole body.

“No… never…never too soon… please…” the words tumbled off your lips in a plea. Hormones clouding your mind alone with need. You needed him. Now. He didn’t bite, however he moved his lips back up to yours, a smile gracing his lips as he looked at you. “Okay, I will, just not yet.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, He was the one that just asked if it was too soon. “But…” He shushed you with a kiss. “Soon.”

You were about to protest more, instead all words died on your lips when you felt him position his own length at your entrance. “Jesus y/n, were going to have to change the sheets.” He sat up on his knees, taking in the slick that was coating your thighs, the sheets and now him. “Worry about that later cat eyes, get in me.” A deep rumble of laughter left him, eyes lightning up in a way that made your heart stutter. “Cute.”

You rolled your eyes at that, if you could reach him you probably would have slapped his hip. “Yah Min Yoongi don’t tease me these cramps hurt…” you whined a little, as if on cue a sharp pain came from your abdomen , slick gushing out in response. Your nose scrunched in discomfort and Yoongi’s expression changed from teasing to concern. “Sorry Sorry…” he leaned down, lips connecting to yours as he attempted to soothe the pain.

You felt the head of his member brush against your folds before finding your entrance again. Your hips were greedy, moving forward to push his tip in before he could do it himself. “Please, make it stop.” You groaned out as another painful cramp twisted your insides. “Of course.” With That he pushed himself all the way in, a long sigh of relief leaving you. “Ahh, move...slowly please.” Yoongi nodded, brows furrowed in concentration as he buried his face in your neck. Taking long inhales of your coconut scent.

Had he not had a task at hand — making you feel better — he’d probably be fast asleep. Truly your scent was intoxicating to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck loosely, embracing him in a warm hug as his hips moved back and forth. You felt a moment of clarity then, the cramps gone for the time being as Yoongi did his thing. A sigh of relief left you. “A little faster, please…” you felt the familiar spark of arousal shoot through you, the cramps had ceased as he thrusted in a bit quicker.

A sigh of relief left you as you nuzzled your cheek against his head. His face still buried in your neck as he moved. Truly you’d be shocked if if he ever unburied his face from your neck. He seemed far too content to even move more than his hips. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, his tip brushing across your most sensitive spot. Your toes curled with each movement as he reached his goal.

“Don’t fall asleep…” he merely grunted against your neck as he picked up the pace. “Look At me Yoongi, I don’t need you falling asleep…” he groaned this time, laughter bubbling in your chest as he finally pulled himself away from your neck. Lidded dopey eyes started down at you as he moved. He looked unbelievably cute with his messy hair and you cooed. “Aww look at my baby…”

His nose scrunched at the comment and he picked up his pace. A startled moan leaving your lips as he smiled in satisfaction. “Not so much of a baby now, am I?” He seemed smug as he rendered you speechless. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you looked up at him, his face blank. Had you not known him well enough you’d think he wasn’t enjoying himself. However the way his lips were parted and the blush on his cheeks told you the truth.

“You’re close aren’t you.” Your words came out as pants. There was a scarlet blush creeping up His chest, blotchy in some places but you knew it meant he was close. He merely grunted at you before capturing your lips in a rough kiss. He sucked on your bottom lip harshly, nibbling at it a bit as he did. Your hands slid down his back, nails raking up the soft skin as you slid them back up. In those few moments you forgot about your heat. You forgot about the cramping and sweats that would inevitably come back in an hour or two. And instead you relished being with Yoongi, the intimacy that you are sharing.

You clenched tightly around him, your orgasm bubbling in you as you tried to keep time with his thrusts. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as wide as possible as he searched for a new angle. His hips were restless and sloppy — he was closer than before. He brushed your spot again and you moaned, walls clenching around his length as your orgasm began to wash over you. Your body felt as if it was doused in cool water as the heat faded. “Fuckin...finally.” You felt him smile against your skin as he buried his face in your neck once more.

His hips thrust forward a few more times before coming to a stuttering halt. His fists gripping the sheets so tightly that they tore slightly. “Fuck.” Was all he could muster as he came. His high crashing over him in blissful waves. His breath fanned across your neck as he sluggishly pulled out of you. Flopping sleepily onto his back beside you. “You’re feeling better?” You didn’t have enough energy to even roll over. “Yes, I should be fine for another hour or two.”

“That short?” You chuckled at yoongi’s exasperated question. “Yes cat eyes, it’s only day one. It only gets worse from here.” You both groaned at that. The realization that the cramps and hot flashes would only get progressively worse over the next 24 hours made you wanna curl up and sleep forever.

“Get some sleep y/n, you’ll need it. When you wake up again I’ll make us some food hmm?” You turned onto your stomach, head burying itself in your pillow before you mustered up a response. “Yeah that sounds good.” You heard Yoongi chuckle slightly before you began to drift off again. Only slightly aware of his release seeping out between your thighs.

—

You were warm when you woke up. A thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. You forced your eyes open to take in the room around you. Yoongi wasn’t next to you anymore, instead you laid in the middle of the large bed. The sheets tangled around your knees having kicked them off while asleep.

Despite the cool air of the room on your bare skin — you were still sweating. Body heating up with what felt like every passing second. “Seriously…” the cramps weren’t as noticeable yet. Only slight pain radiating from your abdomen. You sat up, hair falling around you as you listened for any sign of Yoongi. After a few seconds you recognized the sound of something frying — the mouth watering aroma following.

It had to be breakfast foods. You could smell eggs, bacon, sausage, and some pho. A rather odd combination for breakfast but you weren’t complaining— you were starving. You slipped out of bed and winced. Your joints stiff and a bit sore from all your “activities”. You were tempted to just walk out fully bare but figured you needed to eat before tempting Him. Instead you opted for one of his shirts. Throwing it over your head and sighing as it loosely covered your frame.

“Good afternoon princess.” The nickname never failed to make your nose scrunch. “Afternoon?” You took a seat at the small table and rested your head on your hand. “It’s 12:30 pm y/n, you slept for like 4 more hours.” You laughed at that, combing your fingers through your hair. You watched Yoongi moved about the kitchen, grabbing plates from the cupboard.

You smiled as he placed a full plate of food in front of you. A moment later he took the seat opposite you with a steaming bowl of pho. “Interesting Choice.” He smiles at that, stirring the contents of the bowl. “I knew you’d want breakfast and I wanted lunch. So I compromised.”

You both ate in peace after that — small talk about random things. By the time you finished eating however you were dripping sweat. The pain in your abdomen becoming stronger with each passing minute. “I’m going to take a bath. You can… join me if you want.” You tried to be suggestive but you choked a bit as a cramp twisted your insides.

“We’ll See.” You saw a smirk forming on his lips and you felt your abdomen cramp harder. “Damnit Yoongi.” He chuckled at that, picking up your palate and bringing it to the sink as you waddled into the bedroom. The second the door shut behind you, you pulled his shirt over your head and headed for the bathroom. The previous cramp finally subsiding as you reached for the tub faucet.

You settled on a cooler water — turning the metal faucet to the middle — and plugging the drain. You would have added bubbles or some salts but you were slipping into a more Delirious state. Sweat sliding down your temple as a new wave of cramps hit you. “Ah fuck.” You clutched the edge of the tub and squeezed your eyes shut. This cramp being the most intense yet. “Fucking hell.” You turned off the water after a moment, sitting in your knees waiting for the cramp to pass. After a minute it began to subside — taking that as an opportunity you got into the tub.

Your eyes watered in relief as the cool water helped the pain subside. “Fuck…” you sunk down until your body was submerged to your chin. “Yoongi come join me!” You eyed the open door and waited impatiently for the man to appear. After a few minutes he did. “C’mere please I need you.” You watched his eyes dilate a bit, eyes shining brightly as his scent seemed to engulf you. “You’re entering your Rut aren’t you.” You sunk your teeth into your lower lip, arousal making your body react in excitement.

“Maybe I am, Maybe I’m not.” You snorted at that, sitting up in the tub as Yoongi striped. “My favorite show.” He turned to you and scrunched his nose. “You’re such a perv.” You smiled, leaning over the tub slightly and smacking his thigh. “Takes one to know one cat eyes.” He froze half way into the tub. “touché”.

He sunk down into the cool water and sighed as well. “Come here.” You smirked as he settled down, arms open for you to join him. The water sloshed around you as you straddled his lap. Arms coming up to wrap around his neck as you studied his face. “Are you going to stare at me or are you going to kiss me.” You flicked his nose at the comment before kissing him. Sucking on his bottom lip slightly as his hands slid down your back to rest on your thighs.

You moved your hips slightly, water sloshing around you as you tried to grind down on him. “Fuck this should be interesting.” You smirked against his lips. Pulling away from his lips you began kissing along his jaw, nipping at the sensitive skin and smiling when his nails dug into your thighs. “Did I find your weakness min Yoongi?” Goosebumps ghosted across his skin and you kissed right below his ear. “I...I don’t know what… oh—“ You nibbled On his ear lobe and smirked at the power you felt. An omega dominating her alpha? How fun.

“It seems I have. Damn I must say you’re really cute when you’re moaning like an omega.” His nails dug Into your thighs and you hissed with satisfaction. “Aww did I hit a nerve baby.” He opened his mouth to speak but it only came out as a jumbled mess when you sucked along his neck again. Grinding your hips against his erection — not caring about the water splashing over the side of the tub. “Fuck...off.” You smirked “you mean “Fuck me” don’t you?”

His nose scrunched in frustration as you teased him. God dammit it felt good okay? What was he supposed to do, tell you to stop? You reached below the water, lifting your hips up as you wrapped your fingers around him. “You got excited pretty quickly huh?” Yoongi chuckled , hands moving downwards. One resting on your ass while the other joined your hand on his shaft. “Seems you’re eager too baby.” You took the hint, letting go of him and wrapping both arms around his neck.

You felt him position his length right at your entrance. A second later he forced your hips down with one hand. Making you take his whole length all at once. You gasped loudly, digging your nails into his back as you struggled to adjust to his size. You could already tell he was getting rough— a huge difference from your earlier activities. “Fucking hell Yoongi.”

“What? Can’t take it brat?” You clenched around at his words, arousal making your body react just how he had hoped. “Try me cat eyes” you nearly instantly regretted that. Because within seconds he had your back pressed against the opposite wall. Water sloshing up and over the side of the tub, cascading down to the tile floor. “Is that a challenge?” You swallowed at his words, your throat suddenly drying up. “Cat got your tongue baby?” He hiked your legs up around his waist as he spoke, the cold tile on your back becoming warmer with each passing second.

“And What If It is?” Apparently you never learn. “Well then I’ll just have to accept it.” Before you could reply Yoongi pulled out until only his tip was left inside. Waiting for a second before slamming back into you. You gasped loudly, digging your nails into his back for support. He moved swiftly, hips shooting back and forth at a brutal pace. Whimpers And moans left your lips and you were rendered speechless by his actions.

He bit down on your shoulder, hips thrusting ruthlessly as you struggled to even make a coherent plea. “Fuck...fuckin….Christ...Yoongi.” You barely registered that the bathroom would be a bitch to clean up after. Half the water in tub flooding out onto the floor with each movement of yoongi’s hips. “On your hands and knees.” You slide down the tile wall and yelped as Yoongi roughly took your legs off him.

You obeyed wordlessly, too needy to even make a joke about his commands. He was thrusting into you again without so much as a warning. That’s when you vaguely registered just how much water had been forced out of the tub. The water only came up to just below your elbows now. Well that’s not good — but you didn’t care the second

He brushed spot that had you screaming his name.

You felt your orgasm bubbling up in you again, The all too familiar clenching of your walls around

His length signaling to him just how close you were. “Fuck…” From behind you Yoongi grabbed a fistful of your hair,m. Yanking it back roughly as he pounded into your hips harder. “You’re close huh baby, you like how rough I am hmm?” His lewd comments only made you clench around him harder.

A smirk forming on your lips as he groaned. “Come On Baby, I know you’re close.” You whimpered loudly as you finally came, your release washing over you in waves. Your arms shook with its intensity as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Yoongi’s hips never slowing as he chased after his own release. “I think I just may knot you this time baby, you’d want that wouldn’t you. You’re sadistic enough that you’d Like the pain.” So this was rut / sex crazed Yoongi. He was definitely a sadist it seemed.

“Yes I would…” you groaned out. Barely aware of what crap was spilling from your lips. He only thrust a few times more before burying himself in You. Grip on your hips tightening to the point you knew you’d be bruised after. “Just breathe baby…” you nearly snorted at his words, the sudden switch nearly throwing you for a loop. After a moment you felt him begin to knot — your Waldo stretching in the process.

“Oh...ow...fuck….” you could barely breathe, the stretch burned, but it kept going. For a second you nearly blacked out. The pain surprisingly too intense for you to bear. “Yo..yoongi...I…” you felt distraught for a moment. Not knowing what to do. “I know, I’m sorry, it’ll be over in a minute.” You nodded, attempting to even your breathing. After a few more painful seconds it began to subside. “Christ yoongi….” he chuckled breathlessly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it after time. And it’ll become significantly Less painful. After a few times it’ll probably be enough to make you come.”

You would have yelled at him for the lewd comment — knowing just how smug he was when he said it. “Okay lover boy i need yet another nap. I’m about to collapse.” Yoongi laughed this time, a light and airy sound. Then pulled out. The contents of his release followed and ran down your thighs. You grimaced as the sticky substance slid down to the bath water. “Ew.”

“You asked for it!” You stood up on your knees now, arms practically weeping in relief. “Doesn’t mean I can't be grossed out after cat eyes.” He looked like he wanted to say something but changed his mind. Instead he got out of the tub and went for the towels. “Come On, Let’s Sleep Baby.”

[astralshipper]

HEY GUYS so I wrote out one of my old sam dreams and it’s one of the ones that messed me UP bc it was super meta so this isn’t like... all of it obviously bc dreams are weird and don’t stay in ur head but this is as much as I remembered...yes it’s cuddly clingy sam and yes it’s way ooc but i didnt do this ok my brain said this had to happen so-

Pairing: Sam x Astra

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

Astra found herself standing off to the side in the slightly cramped elementary school art classroom. Her plans to help her friend with her classes was turning out to be a terrible idea. Her hair was in a mess of a bun atop her head, she knew she had at least two colors of paint on her face, and she hadn’t gotten enough sleep last night. Or… wait, when had she… when had she woken up? She remembered going to sleep but, the waking up part… That was…

“Missing,” a familiar gravelly voice spoke. Her head shot up from her place cleaning paint brushes at the sink. With one look, everything slotted into place. Sam, Dean, and Castiel stood in front of her friend dressed head to toe in their fed threads, though Castiel’s were simply his normal clothes sans the trench coat. The reason she didn’t remember waking up is because she never did. The first Supernatural dream she had ever had only happened a couple weeks prior, and she remembered exactly what happened last time. Sam had proposed last time - on accident, to be fair, but he went for it in the end. She knew the idea of her dreams connecting was a ridiculous idea, and that wouldn’t carry over at all. That’s not usually how dreams work, so she just watched, thinking back and yearning for that same look in Sam’s eyes to meet her again.

Dean held up a photo of a young teenage girl, along the top of the page spelled out in red letters was the word ‘MISSING.’ Tragic, she thought to herself. Shame on her subconscious for hurting that girl, she’d done nothing wrong. 

Something Astra’s friend said clearly affected Sam, as he began rapidly turning his head on a swivel in search of something important. As soon as his eyes locked onto Astra’s a smile bloomed across his face. He bounded towards her like an excited puppy meeting a new friend for the first time, big smile, floppy hair and all. “Astra!” He greeted happily. He took the girl into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he rocked them both back and forth. Astra took no time to wrap her arms around Sam’s torso. “I’ve missed you, you haven’t been back since… well…” He trailed off as he trailed his hand along her left arm and pulled away to tug her hand in between their bodies. On her ring finger, she realized, sat the same ring from her dream a couple weeks prior. A soft gasp left her lips, and Sam chuckled. He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I still can’t believe it,” he murmured.

Astra peered up at him in wonder. “You… That… You remember that too?” She asked in curiosity. Sam gave her a soft, understanding smile.

“Don’t remember again, huh? That’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here. These past couple weeks have been rough without you,” he admitted. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand as he held onto it. His feet shuffled awkwardly on the tile floors and he bit his lip in thought. “Do you… I know you don’t remember what we are, but you… Could I…” He broke off with a sigh and hung his head low.

Astra furrowed her brows in confusion. “What? Sam, what’s wrong? How can I help?” She jumped to action right away, not wanting the sad puppy look to appear in a situation that she could stop.

A smile once again tugged at Sam’s lips, much to the woman’s delight. “I just… God, this is always really hard to ask about on these days… Okay, so we’re… together, I think you’ve gathered by now.” He paused to wait for her nod, and as soon as he got it he continued. “I just… get affectionate sometimes, especially if I haven’t seen you in a while, and I wanted to make sure that was okay…” He shrunk down slightly as though trying to make himself appear smaller. 

Astra beamed at the question, almost bouncing on her heels at the idea of getting to be near him for longer. Even though this was all just a dream, she wanted to soak it all up while she could. Her mind flickered back to the blog she ran back in the real world, all of the posts she’s made about this man and how much she always wanted to talk with him and be with him. Her face was instantly overtaken by a blush.

Sam interlaced their fingers and turned to Cas and Dean, who were still speaking with Astra’s friend a few feet away. His brother and best friend glanced over at the couple and both offered their own smiles and waves in greeting to Astra. “We’ve got this, Sammy. Go be all gross. It’s good to see you, pipsqueak,” Dean called over to them in an exasperated tone, though the grin and wink he flashed to Astra insisted that he was far from annoyed. Cas remained silent, but he made sure to lock eyes with her and give her a soft smile as well as a nod.

Sam tugged Astra away to the other side of the room and sat down up against the wall. Astra took a moment to settle down next to him with a few inches of space between them. This clearly wasn’t what Sam wanted, because he let out a huff and pulled her into his side. He pressed a kiss to her temple and allowed his lips to linger there for a moment before letting out a soft sigh and raising his head back up. Astra felt herself missing the contact and, sucking in a breath for bravery, she settled her head down on Sam’s shoulder. Sam hummed in contentment and allowed his head to rest atop hers. 

Sam slid one of his legs under one of Astra’s bent legs so her limb was slung over his, making them feel even closer than they already were without having to move anywhere. “I’ve missed you,” Sam muttered, so softly that Astra could hardly hear it.

“I hope I remember this when I wake up,” Astra pleaded with her own brain. She felt Sam’s rumbling chuckle.

“Even if you don’t, you know I’m there for you, right?” He asked her. She paused for a minute, and he sighed. His head turned to press a soft kiss in her hair, and the girl curled into his side melts at the contact. “I am, you know. I can’t be with you, and trust me, I know how much it sucks, because I miss you like crazy, but I know you’re out there and you love me. And with that, I know everything will be okay.”

Astra took in a shaky breath and burrowed her face into his neck. “You’re too good…” She muttered. Astra chuckled.

“Says you.” He allows her to drop the subject and grabs her hand closest to him, pulling it up and playing with her fingers for a moment. Astra’s brows furrowed.

“What are you doing?” She asked in curiosity. The hunter splayed her fingers out and held his hand up against her own. His hand dwarfed hers by a long shot, and Sam couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips. 

“Dean’s right, you are a pipsqueak,” he teased. Astra faked an offended gasp and lightly smacked his arm in retaliation. A fit of laughter left him as she scolded him and he wrapped an arm around her to pull her back into his side. She huffed and took up her previous position with her head against his shoulder. Sam held out his hand again and wiggled his fingers in request.

“No way! You’re just gonna make fun of me again,” Astra pouted. 

“Aww, angel,” Sam cooed teasingly. “I won’t make fun of you, I promise, little bit.” 

Astra groaned in annoyance, much to his delight, but placed her hand in his anyways. He interlaced their fingers together and placed his free hand on her leg slung over his own. They pair sat there for what could have been minutes or hours, it didn’t really seem to matter to either of them. At one point, though, Astra felt the usual pull that precedes waking up from a dream. She let out a whine at the realization that this was all almost over.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Sam asked in worry, pulling away to look at her.

Astra sighed. “I’m about to wake up from all of this,” she muttered in a downtrodden tone. “I don’t wanna leave you… I’m gonna miss you, Sam…” She felt a sob bubbling up in her throat, and the tears would soon follow. She tried her best to swallow it down, but Sam knew her all too well. He frowned and pulled her into his chest in a hug.

“Shh, it’s okay, Astra. It’s okay. You’ll be back soon, alright? I’ll see you again. You’re okay. I love you, alright? No matter how long it takes you to come back, I love you, alright?” He assured her. His thumb stroked her temple as he cradled the side of her head. She nodded furiously and placed a hand over his own, leaning in and pressing her forehead against his.

“I love you too, Sam,” she stated with confidence. His smile was enough to get her to grin, even in this state. 

“Okay, Astra. I’ll see you soon, promise you.” He pressed his lips against hers in a quick kiss, a kiss of which she tried to soak up as much as possible, and pulled away just enough to press a kiss to her nose. “Til next time, little angel.”

And then she woke up. In her own bed, in her own house, in the real world. A moose plushie sat clutched in her arms, and Supernatural merchandise lay about the room where she remembers leaving it. Sam wasn’t real. None of that was real. No matter how real it felt. She took in a deep breath and dropped back onto her pillow. 

Just because it wasn’t real didn’t mean her mind won’t let her see Sam again… right?

[moonlightchess]

On Lesser Ghosts, my perpetually in-progress novel, a cast of current characters:

Brandon Graham: 30 years old, police investigator for the Dorset Police Department of Dorset, Vermont. The sole survivor of serial killer Seth Morgan, active throughout the bulk of the 90s and all the way through 2003, when he was captured shortly after a 15-year-old Brandon escaped his nightmarish year of captivity in the Morgan house. Casually alcoholic, gay, entirely jaded and weary of the world, but stronger than he appears at first glance. Recently assigned to the case of Cora Tycho, a promising young physics student from the Lower Prince area of Vermont who has gone missing.

Dr. Casey Tycho: 30 years old, and Dorset PD’s newest medical examiner. A British expatriate originally hailing from north London, Casey is the antithesis to the human disaster of Brandon. Sharp, extensively educated, responsible and diligent, he wears silk-lined suit vests and ties to work and has been sleeping with Brandon for six months in an arrangement that Brandon refuses to acknowledge as any sort of relationship. He’s quietly accepted this, both out of respect for Brandon’s boundaries and because being black and openly gay in a small Vermont town may not be the most desirable situation. His sister Cora has gone missing, and he hates how little he wants Brandon on the case, but he knows better than anyone how unstable the man can be.

Sara Graham: Brandon’s younger sister at 27 years old, a folk musician and “crafty mess” by her own admission. Bright, curious, extroverted and warm, much of her life has been dedicated to worrying about her brother. She makes beaded jewelry and pottery on the weekends, collects coffee mugs, and is a driving force in Brandon’s life, though he occasionally wonders if she doesn’t resent him at least a little for the way his kidnapping and subsequent fame as Seth Morgan’s sole surviving victim dominated her younger years. The two are very close, and she’s determined to not allow him to lie down and give up on the Cora Tycho case, no matter how much tension and distance it’s created between he and Casey.

Sasha Prescott: Brandon’s boss, police chief of the DPD. Tough as nails, but she harbors a soft spot for Brandon in spite of his sporadic displays of instability and recklessness in the past. Especially protective of Casey, having long since come to the conclusion that Dorset’s black community is small at best and they have to stick together - the disappearance of Cora, a young black woman in her town, has been keeping her up at night. Her hawk’s stare and firm hand keep the entire department in line, but this also means that she has a constant target on her back.

Kris Alden: A mystery. Was with Cora Tycho on the night she went missing during a camping trip in the woods. Claims he went home early, a result of stomach problems. Not much intel on him yet.

Audrey and Stephen: The forensic lab techs, working directly under Casey. Odd, dreamy types, ensconced in their own little world much of the time. May know more than they’re letting on.

Read the first few pages below!

                                                   🔍🔍🔍

09.12.19:

A burning and industrious early-morning sun insisted upon bullying the pleasant warmth of Casey’s skin into something too harsh to ignore as Brandon groaned, rolling over onto his stomach in bed.  Beside him, Casey stretched, languid as an enormous cat, his sleep likely having been far more restful. Still, his smile was tender as he reached for him, and the scent of coffee brewing from the kitchen suggested that he’d already been up once to make it for him. The sweetness of the gesture hurt, and he curled away from his touch. “Too fucking hot.”

“It’s only going to be about seventy today.” Because of course Casey knew the day’s predicted weather already, of course he was as on top of it as he was everything else in his life. Casey, with his autumn-brown skin and gentle, fox-gold eyes like candlelit amber, of course he was ready with coffee brewing and the forecast on his phone. They were the same age, thirty, but Casey was one of those rare people who had been an adult since twelve. He’d probably delighted in collecting school supplies for a new year when none of his friends gave a shit, he was the type of person who always knew where his keys were. He had a set-in-stone laundry day, which had blown Brandon’s mind when he’d first learned of it. Even now, at six AM, he smelled like fresh fucking bread. Literally the worst human, Brandon had long since concluded, but the sex was fantastic.

Wordlessly, he rolled over for his first cigarette of the day, ignoring Casey’s softly disapproving sound behind him. He briefly considered reminding him of his total lack of access into his personal life, that whatever happened between them sexually meant ten kinds of nothing outside the bedroom, but Casey had never pushed or questioned his boundaries. He kept his distance as Brandon rolled naked out of bed, ambling to the window to shove it open before disappearing into the bathroom without further comment. He gave him time to shower before following, tapping his fingertips against the glass shower door with a quiet, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Want company?”

“Oh, uh. No.”

There was a pause, and then Casey’s silhouette nodding silently, turning to go. He was unique in that Brandon never felt so much as a semblance of guilt about bluntly rejecting the affections of anyone but him, and now it felt sharp. The hot spray of water went needle-harsh against his skin, but he still ignored the coffee Casey had left on the counter for him, as well as the text blinking on his phone. Eat something. Don’t be too late for work, Sasha will have your ass. Even now, he did his best to take care of him as much as Brandon would allow, but he rationalized that he’d never promised the man a damn thing. In fact, he’d made his limitations abundantly clear on the first night they’d tumbled, panting, into bed together, roughly six months ago. The problem was, there was another man. He was persistent and jealous, and he was always around. He was sitting on the edge of his bed right now, in fact. Late forties, moon-pale skin and sleek, ink-black hair, his deceptive youthfulness undercut by the coldness lingering in his dark eyes.

Seth waited, silent, watching Brandon dress. The most attention he ever paid to his honey-blonde mess of hair was a quick tugging of his brush, and the woodsmoke cologne his sister had given him for Christmas last year was left mostly unused on the dresser. His morning routine had long since boiled down to a quick shower, shave, and brushing of teeth and hair before throwing on whatever happened to be clean regardless of its fashionable implications. Today, Seth watched him button up a loose black Oxford over a pair of battered jeans, before embarking upon a ten-minute search for his keys because he wasn’t Casey and never would be.

A light drizzle began to dissolve the heat of the day like sugar in warm coffee once he was on the road, clouds going dense and dark with the sweet threat of a proper rain. Sasha had already texted him - 9:10, Graham. Late again. Casey had tried to warn him, but then he always did, and Brandon never listened. Elgar helped to swallow Sasha’s nearly tangible contempt for his time management skills as he drove, and beside him, Seth settled into the passenger’s seat to stare thoughtfully out at the increasingly heavy rain.

10.4.2003:

This far north into Vermont, where Seth’s house teetered on the border into Canada, winters descended early and lingered long. The ceiling-to-floor steel and rebar support pipe Brandon had been handcuffed to by the wrists for the past two weeks had absorbed the seeping chill, and Seth had only dressed him in a filthy, tattered wifebeater and a pair of old blue flannel pajama pants that smelled suffocatingly of mothballs. He woke every few hours with numb, stinging toes, shivering and dripping. The handcuffs Seth had restrained him with had to have been ordered from somewhere - there was no soft pink fur lining to suggest an intended use of foreplay, and instead they were solid in a deadly way, a way that thunked every time he slid them locked with a firm sense of finality. 

A fever burned through his bones overnight near the middle of October, and finally some part of Seth seemed to awaken to his basic human needs. He was provided a deeply itchy wool blanket that felt woven from canvas and sandpaper, but it did the job of keeping him warm. Every few nights, his worn boots would thud down the basement steps to offer him a plate of cold, congealed noodles that he’d clearly been keeping in the fridge. His wrists went raw and scabbed with the endless scrape of the cuffs, his knees cramping in their bent position. Stretching his legs was possible, but uncomfortable. The days began to melt together, the constant darkness of the basement transforming time into a static thing. He slept when the wave of exhaustion became too much to fight, he woke and watched the shadows when sleep eluded him. He lost all sense of night or day, the passage of hours.

Three weeks deep, the frantic hope that he’d be found began to fade. The basement began to feel like his place, and he began to forget what it felt like to not fall asleep hugging a metal pipe. Seth was strangely reassuring, an exponential effect that seemed to correlate with his slow acceptance of his situation. As time dissolved and desperation waned, Seth’s approval bloomed. Sometimes, now, the noodles were warm and slick from boiling water, fresh. His blanket was replaced with a less abrasive one, albeit filthy. At fourteen years old, Brandon learned that life began and ended here in his cold, dark basement. The memory of the day he’d been taken seemed irrelevant now, the faces of his parents to whom he’d clung so desperately in those early days.

“I know that you don’t understand.” Seth’s voice was soft, gentle more often than not, sedately erudite like a classics professor on vacation in the woods for the holidays. He was quite articulate, expressing himself fairly eloquently whenever he came into the basement to speak to him. “It sounds trite, like something Keats might have written, but believe me when I say that this is your chrysalis phase, Brandon. It’s tight and uncomfortable and emerging will be a painful struggle, but I want you to trust me. I know it’s asking a lot of you right now, but I also know that your eyes are open and you’ll get there. I trust you already.”

He wore a lot of high-collared fleece sweaters in earth tones and he kept his silky hair longish, framing his face in a soft sort of way that left him mild and relaxed to the eye. Brandon learned to crave him, the only human voice, presence, that he’d experienced in a month as the end of October approached. He couldn’t express this yet, but Seth would smile down at him, bending at the knees to wrap him in a new blanket or to offer him the day’s plate of noodles. Sometimes the blankets were splattered with fresh bloodstains and sometimes the noodles were wrapped around bullets of sausage that tasted blandly wrong, but he was there.

Once, shortly before Halloween, the burgeoning bond between them inspired him to blurt, “I wouldn’t say anything, you know. You could just let me go, you wouldn’t even have to drive me home. I’d never tell anyone, I understand your work here--” because Seth had often referenced his cryptic “work” without elaborating. “I won’t try to stop you, you could just--”

Seth’s open hand slammed into the side of his head, smacking his skull into the metal pipe with a gut-churning clang. The world exploded into white fire, his vision briefly going dark as his brain struggled to retain consciousness. A thick, hot ooze of dark blood began to gush from his nostrils, but he was too resigned at that point to so much as scream. Instead, he moaned softly, sagging forward as his head began to throb in time with his heartbeat. The agony was blinding, but he didn’t pass out, which came as something of a disappointment.

A month and a week passed.

09.12.19:

Dorset’s PD’s station was one of the lingering bastions of old-school police architecture, all museum-high ceilings and wooden desks arranged in rows. Brandon wove his way between them on his way to Sasha’s office, set high above the ground floor grunts and their ancient desktop computers. He’d always respected the way she’d left the glass panels that made up the front wall of her office intact, leaving her visible to her officers and techs alike. She was typing on her own laptop when he tapped his fingers against said glass, waving him inside. A still-steaming paper cup of Two Brews sat on her desk, littered with loose papers that themselves were littered with her scribbled notes. My office, whenever you decide to show up, she’d texted him.

Sasha Prescott was forty-four years old with dense, dark curls clipped short and precise. With her high cheekbones, full lips and velvet-dark skin, she could easily have been a model even in her middle age, dominating an industry obsessed with youth. And dominate it she would have - there was a carefully cultivated air of laser focus that she wore like armor wrapped around her, her narrow, jewel-black eyes piercing through lies and alibis like a hot knife through butter. She and Brandon’s mutual respect had led to a highly efficient and successful working relationship over the years, and they both appreciated that neither was in any way interested in developing any sort of personal friendship outside of work.

Now, he dropped into the Quaker chair in front of her desk and considered making an attempt for her coffee, which she didn’t appear to have started drinking yet. Her signature plum lipstick had not yet stained the rim, but she zeroed in on his intent with her standard razor perception and shook her head. “I will literally stab you,” she said casually, and he let his hand fall to his knee instead.

“What’s up?”

“First off, roll in here late again and I’ll write your ass up. Secondly, we have a delicate situation in our laps right now and I want some input on how to deal with it.”

Arching an eyebrow, Brandon kept his tone as nonplussed as possible. Too much visible interest might have convinced Sasha to change her mind, one of her stranger quirks. “I’m listening.”

“Cora Tycho is missing, as of somewhere around midnight last night.”

He nearly rose to his feet despite his resolve, an icy fist punching straight through his ribcage to seize his heart. “Casey’s sister?”

Sasha confirmed this with a short nod, her lips pressed tight. “She was out camping with a friend near the Lower Prince quarry. Her friend, Kris Alden, fell ill shortly after they ate dinner and decided to go home. Cora wanted to drive him, but there was no one available to take her back once he was home and he claims he felt guilty about making her miss some super-moon or whatever the hell it is, told her he could make it home on his own. She never came back from the woods, the Alden kid shared a class with her that she skipped this morning and no one has been able to reach her via call or text. It’s not enough to assume that she’s officially a ten-fifty-seven just yet, but people are starting to worry. She’s never been someone to just bail on everything like this, Kris described her as very thoughtful and responsible.”

“You’ve already sent someone out to talk to him? Does Casey know?”

“Not yet. That’s actually what I wanted your input on - obviously he’s not getting anywhere near this case, but given the personal nature of your relationship with him what are your thoughts on his capability to handle the work environment in general as it’s investigated? Should I just send him on a vacation until this is cleared, or is he frosty enough to stay professional here at the station while his sister is missing? You know him better than any of us.”

Brandon’s brain reeled. “Personal nature? I don’t know what sort of relationship any of you are under the impression that we--not that any of you should have any impression of our relationship, I mean. Shit. We’re not in a relationship! I barely know him!” His voice was raising in pitch while he remained completely unaware, his knuckles going white around the armrests of the Quaker chair. Sasha exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Jesus. Do I need to send you on a vacation too? Get your shit together.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, he exhaled. “Casey is one hundred percent able to handle working while this is being solved, but that doesn’t mean he should. I doubt he’ll let you send him on a vacation, but try anyway. He doesn’t deserve to be here all day, trying to focus on other shit while half of Dorset is trying to figure out if his sister’s body is rotting in the woods somewhere. He should be with his family.”

“I’ll do my best. I’m giving this girl until tonight to turn up, and then I’m issuing a gloves-off ten-fifty-seven.” Sasha’s voice went to iron, and it occurred to Brandon that she cared for Casey as much as anyone at the DPD did. He was the lifeblood of the forensics labs, their unflappable new medical examiner whose lingering British accent left over from a youth spent in west London had a way of soothing even the most panicked and horrified relative of one of his corpses. 

“I need you to go into far more detail about the supposed “nature” of my relationship with Casey, up to and including just how the hell you even knew about it at all. Not that it’s anything. At all.”

“Would you kindly climb off my dick, Graham? I’ve got enough shit on my plate right now.”

“Sasha.”

“Settle down. No one else knows anything, even though according to you there’s nothing to know. It’s just that a lifetime of police investigation have left me a highly observant person--”

“A lifetime? You’re in your forties, don’t start writing your memoirs yet you drama queen.”

“...And as such, I’ve noticed you two leaving work together occasionally, showing up around the same time in very deliberately separate cars but sometimes accidentally wearing each other’s shirts, things like that. Things only I would ever notice, I promise. No one else has mentioned anything to me, and you know they would if the rumor mill was running about it.”

“Fine. Whatever. Any more intel on Cora?”

Wordlessly, Sasha slid a manila envelope across her stately desk. Opening it, Brandon was confronted with a glossy photo of a beautiful young woman, all sparkling honey eyes and rich dark skin like a sunset’s sweet glow, thick black hair meticulously oiled and wrapped and beaded into immaculate dreadlocks that she’d pulled back with a sky-blue silk scarf for her senior high school photo, Cora wore her brother’s beauty as elegantly as he did. They shared the same royally rounded nose and high cheekbones, full lips and dimples. His chest ached, and he brushed his fingertips against the photo thoughtfully without realizing he was doing it. Sasha had compiled everything - her academic records, notes on her hobbies and habits, her generally expected whereabouts on any given day. She had no legal record to speak of, her profile speaking to a bright, clean-cut girl with a gleaming future in physics.

“She was a student at NVU,” Sasha supplied. “Is a student. Solid grades, a quiet type, well-liked by her peers but not known to be a partier. Close with her family, especially our Casey. Loved to cook, according to reports. She entered several baking competitions last year, even won a couple. Played the violin all throughout high school, but turned down a suggested spot on NVU’s student orchestra. Said she didn’t want it to interfere with her study time, according to the orchestra leader I called. She seemed laser-focused on her goal of working for NASA someday, had a whole vision board about it on Pinterest.”

“I’ll start with Kris Alden. I’ll head out to his place today.”

“Start with Casey. I don’t want him to hear about this on the news, and my official statement on the case is going live tomorrow morning.”

“Shit. Okay.” Scooping the file up under his arm, he rose to his feet. “I’ll go talk to him, he down in the forensics lab?”

“With Audrey and Stephen. See if you can get him alone, he won’t like his techs seeing him break down in front of them if he reacts poorly.”

“How the hell else do you expect him to react to the news that his sister is missing?”

“I’m just saying, let’s be conscious of how difficult this is going to be for him. You’re not exactly known for your tact, but you have the best shot at holding him together here. You know as well as I do that the longer we go without finding this girl, the less of a chance we have.”

Brandon paused at her office door. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Took me a year to get out of that basement.”

He hated the way her gaze softened, and so he made his way out without a goodbye to make a point, ignoring the irritating hiss of her compressed-air door mechanism that refused to let him leave with a satisfying slam. The forensics lab and department morgue was located in the basement of the station for obvious reasons, a narrow elevator depositing him into the DPD’s underground two minutes later. The temperature dropped by a few degrees once the doors slid open, the stone all around them cooling the air. He couldn’t hear the rain anymore, down here, and he found Audrey and Stephen hunched over a severed hand on a sleek chrome examination tray in the lab.

Audrey was tall and willowy, twenty-six with ice-blonde hair wound into a messy braid that she’d draped over one shoulder, so pale and slim that there was something ghostly about her, especially when taking into consideration her gray eyes so light and translucent they were nearly colorless, like a mirror or a deep-sea creature. She wore a white lab coat over a pair of black jeans and a loose, baggy gray sweater - she wore a lot of gray, black and white, and she always looked like a spectre, an overcast ocean. The selkies would have accepted her as one of theirs upon sight. Stephen was only barely as tall as her, with a much friendlier face, soft freckled cheeks and tanned skin suggesting a childhood spent outdoors working off baby fat. He had peanut-brown curls tumbling over his forehead and round, intelligent hazel eyes, a sharply defined mouth and an easily cheery demeanor. Oddly enough, he and Audrey were quite close.

“Hey guys. Anyone seen Casey?”

“Down in the morgue.” Audrey pointed to her feet, indicating the sub-level beneath them. “He left this hand with us and told us to collect data samples and disappeared. He’s been down there all morning.”

“Do you know whose hand it is?”

“Pretty sure it belongs to that wheat farmer who turned up in the hospital last week missing one. I mean, how many hands could there be unaccounted for in Vermont right now?” Stephen grinned, snapping his gum. He took a kind of morbid glee in his work, something Brandon had always suspected Audrey shared with him.

“Left hands, to boot,” Audrey added, shrugging. “How are you, Brandon?”

“I’m fine. I’d love to stay and um, look at the hand with you guys, but I’ve got to talk to Casey. Have...fun?”

Stephen’s grin widened. “Oh, we will, friend.”

“I hate the way you say things.”

Stephen’s laughter followed him back into the elevator, which delivered him to the bottomost floor of the DPD headquarters. Casey was there, bent over his own work, having forgone his stiff lab coat in favor of his neatly tucked-in dove-gray button-down, black silk tie, charcoal dress vest and matching creased slacks. His leftover British sensibilities were evident in his crisply classic style, always semi-formal and expensive even when he dressed “down” in Burberry cashmere sweaters and custom-tailored jeans. He looked so unflappable that Brandon’s faith in him was stirred anew, and he approached with more tenderness than was normal for him. His aura alerted Casey to something amiss upon impact, and he narrowed his eyes at him before saying a word. “Don’t see you down here often, love.” The last word slipped out before he could stop it, and Brandon watched him flinch minutely, almost imperceptibly.

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (7/?)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: what i'm saying is - Bran does slam poetry. that's it. that's the chapter. anyway......enjoy 👀👀👀

He swallowed. He swallowed hard. Gendry couldn’t believe he even fucking said it. And now, it was out in the open. His jaw clenched tight, shoulders straightening as his whole body went tense. With the stunned way she stared at him, he really wasn’t sure what the hell was going to happen.

“What?” Arya said, her voice a whisper. The anger that had once taken her by storm was gone, and what remained was a girl - beautiful and struck by his words. It broke him. He wanted to fall to his knees and confess it all again for that voice. But in the end, his suit kept him in position, hard clenched hands stopping him for faltering.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied back sternly.

“Did you just say you -”

“It doesn’t matter what I said,” he snapped. Arya stook a step closer to Gendry. He didn’t have the strength the step back, no matter how much he wanted distance.

“It does to me,” she said, voice so soft, it was almost begging him to say what he needed to. Instead, fear took its place.

“Listen to me, Arya,” he said, looking down at her with as much malice as his body held - looking at her made it so fucking difficult, “you’re the princess, everyone is looking to you to be strong. I’m here to protect you, that’s it.”

“But you’re in love with me,” she said, hand on his cheek. Gendry reached up, trying not to shake. He took her fingers delicately and pushed them back to her side.

“So are thousands of other people,” he replied weakly, looking down at his shoes. “Princess. I know my place. Know yours. Get back to the palace,” he said, gesturing his hand back to the street where the car was waiting. There was silence before Arya moved, her feet crunching on sticks and branches. Gendry tried so hard to move, but his body needed strength. He felt so weak after what he said - the words of a man that hated himself...and put it all on the woman he loved.

*~*~*

The night felt like it dragged, stuck in sinking earth that wouldn’t let loose. Arya tossed over again and again, wondering what the hell happened that afternoon. His words echoed in her mind, badgering her until she curled her pillow around her head to silence everything. The tension in her body was too much - mind working when she wanted it blank.

In a huff, she shoved the pillow from her head and chewed on her lip. She slowly snaked her hand passed the waistband of her pajama shorts and underwear. If her mind was completely taken over by bliss, than that was what had to be done. As she stroked the bundle of nerves, her toes curled and she became more confident and comfortable with her own touch.

The confusion of her mind had finally caught up to her, as she imagined Gendry in between her thighs, face hidden behind the crest of her body, eyes staring back at her with desire that made her heart clench tight.

Arya’s hand stopped, a huff falling from her lips.

She shouldn’t be thinking things like that.

But desperation for sleep kept her fingers tentatively between her legs.

And instead of fighting her mind, she let it slip into where it wanted to land, his hand in her place and the man that loved her doing whatever he wanted to her body. As her body came apart - thigh shaking and toes curling so hard she wondered how they remained that way without cramping - she tried to ignore the thoughts that had sprung up in her desperate daydream. Instead, she focused on the remnants of her orgasm, riding it out slowly until sleep came far easier than before.

However, she dreams provided no escape from the wandering thoughts. Gendry taking her in all the ways she wanted, the guilty pleasures she kept to herself. She woke with a feverish need and her face felt flush. In the end, all she could do was wait in her room, pretending she didn’t feel the slight aching in between her legs where he could have been.  

In a text, she messaged Gendry, asking about coffee. But as hours ticked by, no knock at her door, she cradled her legs and rested her cheek on her knees, waiting for her phone to go. She didn’t pine. She didn’t long for him. Arya was just frustrated. Why would he say it and act so cold? Why would he do that when he knew she was hurting?

Arya stayed in bed, watching as the day came in and the afternoon went - scrolling for hours on social media and trying to find joy without leaving her room. In the end, she felt her stomach turn as she saw the photos of her sister. Arya wasn’t sure why, but she felt sick, as though something were missing from her belly. Sansa looked happy as she was out for brunch, Theon smiling with her as they joked over coffee. And Arya felt empty.

Throwing her phone to the other side of the bed, Arya wanted to scream into her pillow. The reality was, Arya was lonely - ignored and left to be alone. She didn’t deserve this, stuck with the comfort of her bed that still left her cold amongst the sheets.

In the night, there was a soft rapping at her door. Arya perked, watching as the door opened up. Instead of the suit that had become more routine as of late, she saw her tall redheaded sister. Arya sighed, retreating back into her bed as Sansa moved into the room. Over her shoulder, Arya saw Gendry standing guard, not even looking into the room - to see if Arya was even there. It made her want to claw at the walls, and rip apart the room - who was he to act like he was so above her all of a sudden.

“So, I heard you haven’t left your room all day,” Sansa said, moving into the room cautiously, “you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Arya grumbled, tucking her legs up to her chest again.

“I wanted to complain, can you listen?”

“Sure,” Arya said, shuffling along in her bed, but not paying much mind to her sister. Sansa moved under the sheets and groaned as she managed to get comfortable. Then, Sansa started to shuffle through her phone, looking at text messages and showing Arya quick glimpses.

“The boy, you know, the boy. He’s being all distant now, and I thought we were just getting things exactly where we needed. I’ve been trying to talk to him, be all nice and understanding but he’s all -”

As Sansa rattled on, Arya felt her teeth clenching tight and her hands binding in her sheets.

“You’re complaining about your love life that isn’t even in trouble cause he’s standing right in front you. You’re both just being twats,” Arya huffed, facing towards the windows. Sansa smacked at Arya’s thigh, shame and guilt forcing Arya to stay focused on the window. It was raining. When wasn’t it, these days?

“Ok, there’s something up with you, spill,” Sansa urged. Instead, Arya held herself closer. “Is this about dad?” Arya huddled herself closer.

“Don’t pretend you understand. I’m the only one he’s forgotten and I’m the closest to him,” Arya replied in a rush, feeling Sansa’s hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to face her sister. But Arya pulled back in on herself.

“Arya, dad remembers me as a fifteen year old. He asked me how my exams are going,” Sansa explained, but that didn’t mean shit. Arya was only a year or so younger than Sansa, and yet, he had forgotten Arya out of all of them? It wasn’t fair.

“Can you just leave? I’m not in the mood,” she muttered, keeping herself coiled like a snake, ready to attack again if her sister talked. For whatever reason, she felt angry - an anger that was fueled by nothing other than happiness. She thought she had it for a split second, and then it was snatched away by the person giving it.

Her sister mumbled under her breath, ripping the blankets from her form and going towards Arya’s bedroom door. Sansa paused at the threshold, the door creaking as it opened. Arya wanted to turn to see Gendry, to know what he was thinking. Instead, she kept watching her eye on the falling water, watching it drip down from the top of the window to the bottom of the frame. “You can talk to me, you know?” Sansa said, voice soft - caring.

“Whatever,” Arya replied. Sansa sighed and shut the door behind her.

Arya was alone for the rest of the night, getting food to her room from Hot-pie because he was worried. Unlike someone. She supposed, after her mood, she was jealous of everyone in her family. She felt like they got everything she didn’t - she was missing the master plan of happiness within the confines of royalty.

Why couldn’t she have that - just a small thing that meant the world to her, even in the sad times. Now, it was just torture, a way for Gendry to have the upper hand and taunt her.

She hated him for making her feel like that. That she wasn’t allowed to say or do what she wanted. All because he was afraid. What a bastard.

The next day, Arya refused to stay in her room. She went around the palace grounds, Gendry on her heels and not even saying a word. He just kept up with her and made sure she wasn’t doing anything - he refused to let her go on a certain trail, and he was beginning to wear suits like they were always his uniform. Made her roll her eyes. Like an idiot, he was following the rules.

Arya then sat in meeting with Davos, where he explained that her proposal meeting would be pushed back due to Bran and her father being the centre of the news cycle. It also meant that Robb had a chance to breathe - giving him time in the spotlight without having him completely take over the reigns of king. Arya could only think how much stress he was under, but she didn’t feel it her place to speak with him just yet.

As she left to head out again, she ran into Jon. He came bounding towards her, pulling her into his arms and holding her as tightly as he could. It took Arya a bit too long to realise why he wasn’t letting her go. Pity did that to him - made him friendlier. Arya hated that, scowling at her brother. He didn’t even seem to notice that she was recoiled by him in that moment.

With his hand on her cheek, he looked down at her, pleading with just a look in his eyes.

“Hey, have you considered going to the hospital?” he asked, and Arya scoff.

“Why? I’m fine,” she shrugged, trying to play off the question. Maybe he would drop it then.

“Arya,” Jon sighed. She didn’t like that. He always had a way of making her feel small, that she’d always be little in his eyes. “You have to go visit dad.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Arya snapped, shoving Jon’s hand away. He looked shocked, that she would ever be as spiteful as that moment.

“He’s getting better, surely you could -” Jon tried, but Arya chewed on the inside of her lip.

“I’m going for a run,” she replied, fixing up her jacket and looking at the floor. Her sneakers squeaked against the tiles, the only other sound radiating in the area besides for the three of them breathing.

“It’s late,” Jon replied, his tone harsher than before - as though he were truly looking down on her now. Jon wasn’t like that, but neither was Arya. They were never going to see eye to eye on this.

“Then I’ll go to the gym downstairs, gods,” she huffed, going down the stairs. Jon and Gendry had a silent conversation - she didn’t pry, she just wanted to get away. It was easier, why should she be the one to get hurt when everything else was against her. She could stay at home, or go into town, and nothing else even mattered.

As she started to go towards the palace gym area, her arm was wrenched back, forcing her to collide with Gendry behind her. He started down at her angrily.

“Regardless if he knows who you are or not, you still need to go see him,” he said, some of the only words he had said to her in days.

And Arya felt spiteful. Who was he to say what she should do when it came to fathers? How would he know a damn thing. “Speaking from experience, are we?” she barked back, watching as his face contorted uncomfortably. She had wounded him deeper than she anticipated. Served him right.

“Get back to your fucking room, you’re not going to the gym,” he said, taking a firm hold of her arm and taking her back up the stairs.

“Don’t treat me like a child,” she said, clawing at his hand as best she could whilst trying to drag her feet against the tiles to no avail.

“I can if you’re acting like one,” he snapped, and Arya kicked at the back of his knee, making him buckle down to the floor before shooting back up to face her.

“I’m going to get you fired for talking to me like that,” she scowled, trying her best to sound like anything but a spoiled child. She knew she did anyway, though.

“Be my fucking guest. Gets me away from you,” he replied harshly.

“Fuck you,” she spat, Gendry letting her go, a hard shove of her arm and he moved ahead of her. His shoulders were tense, and hands were bound so tight, Arya could see his fingers were white.

She moved slowly behind him, making her way to her room and watched as he never once turned to see if she were behind him.

It occurred to her that he might not even have cared.

Gendry stood against the frame of her door, watching the opposite windows and not glancing once at her. Shutting her door, she touched at the frame, the closest thing to him.

All that was left between them now was spite.

And even when she hated him; she hated that she hated him.

Within the next few days, they didn’t talk. Arya went to the kitchen, she talked to Hot-pie. He asked her questions about the proposal. Gendry stayed outside. He followed wherever she went, but neither of them spoke.

Maybe it was for the best.

Arya knew that whenever he spoke to her, all she wanted to do was scream - to yell about how much he could be saying without being a twat about it. But instead, silence was the next best option.

Nothing came easy for Arya, it seemed.

As she was hauling some books from the family library to her room, she spotted her brother being wheeled in. Bran’s smile was so wide, it filled Arya was a joy she couldn’t describe. She went running to him, not caring about the books that fell from fell from her arms - they were on building organisations, and running successful businesses - they meant nothing compared to the brother in front of her

“You’re home!?” she shouted as she reached him. Bran smiled, taking the books from her hands and placing them in his lap. He didn’t say anything, just wheeling himself off as Gendry caught up to her. He handed her the remaining books, only for her to hand them to Bran. The two siblings kept their pace with one another, as Bran lead his way around the bottom floor of the palace.

It made Arya sad - the palace wasn’t designed to be accessible - or widely accessible - to the disabled. Maybe they were already organising new things, plans to make it easier for Bran to move about? She wasn’t exactly in contact with her family a lot these days, she wouldn’t know.

Bran suddenly stopped at the edge of the back porch, looking out onto the back garden before he flipped through one of Arya’s books. “You know, you would have found out I was coming home if you visited the hospital,” he said, and Arya turned to him.

It felt like he was reading her fucking mind.

As her brow furrowed, she shook her head and scoffed at his words. “I had other shit going on, why do I need to baby you?”

“Arya, cut the bullshit. You’re blaming yourself for what happened to me. Which, you shouldn’t.” Bran continued reading the book, as though he hadn’t just dropped the biggest fucking bomb on her.

He was right, and she disliked that he was being all insightful now.

Arya sighed, combing her hair out of her face and settling down on the first step next to Bran’s wheels. “Bran, I was the reason -”

“I took my seat belt off,” he started, finally looking at Arya. He leaned forward, hand on her shoulder. “I wanted to sit in the back away from mum and dad to watch one of my lectures. If I had stayed in my seat, I wouldn’t have lost the use of my legs,” he said, patting at his knee. It barely budged. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother Bran in the slightest. He had seemed to be completely calm since waking up. It worried her.

“But…”

“Arya, it’s okay. I really don’t mind. Nothing truly changed, I’m still me,” he said, smile weaker than it was before, and Arya could feel her heart sinking into her stomach.

“I know, I just -”

“While I can not change what was my decision, it was my decision nonetheless and I am content to learn about the newest stage of my time on this land.” He sounded completely different, gaze drifting off to the garden, as though he saw something far wider and more beautiful than she did.

“I’m sorry you were in there in the first place,” she said, reaching out and taking his hand. Then, suddenly, he did a finger gun with his free hand.

“Bruh, this’ll be so good for disability services now we can get some key problems through parliament,” he said, nodding confidently to himself.

“Are you seriously making this into a thing you can campaign with or something?” she laughed, trying her hardest not to, but Bran was a hurricane of happiness, flipping back onto his wheels, and tilting back in his chair like the teenage boy he was. He acted as though he were a teenage boy that saw an abandoned wheelchair and finally got the chance to perform all the stunts he always wanted to. Somehow, he seemed to be enjoying it far more standing.

“Well, yeah. I’m a fucking genius,” he scoffed, leaning back into his chair.

“Idiot,” Arya scoffed, standing up and taking her books from Bran’s lap.

“I know you wanted to talk to your bodyguard, I was fine with it,” he whispered to her suddenly and Arya paused taking the last book.

“What are you -”

“Our little secret then, I guess,” he shrugged, wheeling himself back quickly and tilting himself on one wheel. “I’m already great at tricks, watch!” he said, spinning around and the lifted wheel hit back down on the ground hard and Bran grunted at the shock before trying it again.

Arya rolled her eyes. “You’re the biggest idiot I know.”

Bran smiled, wheeling himself around when Rickon came out onto the porch. “You think you can get another chair here? I wanna play wheelchair football in the ballroom,” he said, completely out of breath.

“Oh fuck! I didn’t even think about that,” Bran said, fiddling with the pockets on his chair until he came back with his phone. “I’m calling Davos,” he said and Rickon cheered. Arya watched in amazement as the pair waited intently for Davos to answer the phone.

Okay, Arya knew two of the biggest idiots in the world. And they were her brothers.

Arya hitched up her books, walking back inside. Gendry had been stood at the doors, barely even looking at her as she came back inside, but following after her as she walked back to her room.

He picked up all the books she dropped, eventually holding a majority of the stack that Arya had struggled with. At her desk, he set them down, pausing for a moment in her room before walking away and shutting the door behind him. She was getting more used to seeing his back than his face these days, and it made her heart lurch.

As she settling in at her desk, opening up her book, she laid her head in the mess of notes, struggling to think about anything other than that stupid man that stood on the other side of her door.

The next day, Arya was ready in her gym gear, tying up her hair when she met Gendry in the hallway. He looked at her strangely, which was different than his clear determination to ignore her.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, voice deep and darker than normal. Arya ignored the way her heart skipped, simply heading towards the staircase. Flicking her pony tail as she finished tying it, she looked back to him.

“I’m going out today,” she said, hitching up the bag on her shoulder. As she went to go, Gendry put out his hand, stopping her in her tracks.

“Unless it’s for events, or you’re seeing friends, you’re not allowed out of the palace,” he said, his chin raised and eyes focusing past her - she wasn’t even there to him, was she?

“What the fuck is this new rule?” she said, pushing hard into his chest. He didn’t budge. And she wanted to kick him in between the legs to get any kind of response out of the bastard.

“I made it because I let you have too much leniency. You can’t just do whatever you want, your life could be in danger,” he said, and Arya groaned, kicking at his shin, only for him to dodge it this time.

“Why should you care? Tell me,” she said, stepping into him. Gendry stepped back, and part of her wanted to follow, be within his gravity - just to understand what he was thinking.

“Just go.” He pointed over her shoulder, making her go back towards her room. Instead, she stayed put, scowling hard at him. “And don’t try the exits, they’ve all been sealed.” He warned.

“I hate you,” she said, and Gendry turned, walking off. Always walking away.

“Good.” Arya stopped. She wanted to call out his name and ask what he meant. Could he be…

No.

It was stupid.

Gendry knew who he was - he was not only a commoner, but personal aid to the royal family. He didn’t have the right to confess what he meant. And Arya was a fool for falling for it all - her heart striving for something she couldn’t have.

He was doing this all for the two of them.

She needed to know that.

But there was still a lingering part of her that wanted to ignore it all and give into it.

She didn’t know what side of her would win out in the end.

A week had gone by, Arya’s proposal date was now set, and she was studying up in her room. Her hair was up in a messy bun, her jeans were black to hide all the stains from her dripping foods, and her shirt kept them from being secret with the white colour and graphic print on her Sigrid shirt.

With a pen in her mouth, muttering to herself, Arya was going over it with the speech she had written, when she heard a loud commotion outside. There was part of her that was willing to ignore it - put on her noise cancelling headphones, and keep up her practicing - but there was a pull in her gut that said something was wrong.

Arya put her notes back down, moving to her door. Outside, she saw all the security talking into their comms, shouting out and covering up all windows as quickly as possible - whilst also checking they were locked. Arya chewed on her lip, catching Pod as he passed her. She caught onto his arm, for him to turn in a frantic mess. Arya looked around to find Gendry gone. He wasn’t even at her door anymore. Something didn’t feel right.

“We’re on lockdown everyone!” Pod said into his comms, as though he were repeating a message over and over until everyone was getting it.

“What’s going on?” Arya said.

“Someone’s broken past the gate, sensors are catching him near the residency,” he said, and Arya wanted to launch from her room - find her family, keep them within arms reach, but Pod stepped into her, pushing her back into her room. “Everyone remain in your rooms until we give further notice,” he explained. But, she was alone. And she felt scared

“Where’s Gendry?” she asked, voice soft and hand binding tighter into his arm.

“Gendry’s not…” Pod said, looking around and huffing, changing his channel over quickly. “Gendry! Get to your po-”

Static came in when a ragged voice came back over, completely out of breath. “I’m running, Pod! I’m fucking running!” Gendry sounded like he was worried - beyond what worried could hold as a word. But Arya wasn’t sure if he was worried for her or his job. Was she even worth the word?

“He’ll be here in a sec, don’t worry,” Pod said, before whispering under his breath, “idiot.”

Arya waited at her door, the silence on the other side far more daunting than the hurried steps and yelling from just a few moments before. Before she knew it, a knock came to her door. Arya sucked in a breath, opening the door - met with a man she was not expecting. It was Pod again, smiling easily now. Arya sighed, smiling back briefly.

“It was only a university student,” he started, letting his tie loosen around his neck as he continued on. “He was dared to scale the fence and didn’t know the way out. Everything is fine,” he let out a shaky breath and Arya laughed, almost shutting the door when Pod made a strangled noise.

“There’s something else?”

“We’re stay on lockdown just in case. Everyone will stay put until morning,” he said, nodding to make sure she knew. Arya gave a nod back. “Sorry for the inconvenience,” he apologised.

“Thanks Pod,” she said, watching as Pod walked off, heading towards Sansa’s room further down the hall. Arya kept her gaze on the hallway for a few more moments, wondering if she’d see her bodyguard come bounding around the corner, apologising to her for leaving her alone.

In the end, she just shut her door.

Where the hell was he? And how could he just...leave like that.

As she sat at her desk, another ten minutes went by before she heard a faint knock on her door. It opened, for Gendry to step through, barely even looking concerned. “You alright?” he asked, nodding as he took her in. Within a second of his question, and not waiting for an answer, he started to leave. Arya kicked her chair out from underneath her, hitting at her desk as hard as she could with all her frustration going into the force of it.

“How can I trust you to do your job when you can’t be alone with me for five minutes?” she yelled. Gendry stopped, turning back into the room and slamming the door behind him.

“How can I trust myself to do my job if I’m alone with you for five minutes?” Out of everything, this was when he was being honest? How long had he been holding onto those words? Or was it all just an excuse?

“Oh, so you love me but also can’t stand me. Is that how it is?” she said, getting into his space again. Gendry didn’t budge, tongue poked into his cheek.

“This conversation is over.” Gendry turned to the door again, and Arya couldn’t watch those stupid shoulders again.

“Why would you risk losing everything over this? If things get worse between us you could lose your job. What about your mum?” She was desperate. She didn’t mean to say it like it was a threat. Arya was just…

Everything was too much.

Gendry whipped back around, hands bound like they had been when she brought up his father.

“Thats a low blow, your highness.” He warned her a gravel to his voice. Arya stepped away, hand to her head before the words could come to her. She felt like yelling, and crying, and fighting him all at the same time.

“Well, am I wrong? We're fighting all the time and you can’t stand my presence. I’m so tired of you walking away from this and from me. How the fuck can I trust you to protect me?” she asked. Gendry hands raised up high, gesturing between them as his voice raised higher than before. Arya didn’t think either of them realised that they were in the palace. Everything else was just a void.

Whenever they were around each other, it was only ever them.

“How am I supposed to protect you when I’m in love with you?! It’s protection 101! I’m about to lose it all anyway because I broke the first rule so it doesn’t matter, does it?” he snapped, going for the door handle again, and the distance made her scared. Arya dashed for him, following after as the words came out - so desperate and longing, she was surprised it was only coming out then.

“It doesn’t matter?! Have you bothered to stop and consider I might love you back?”

Gendry stopped, turning back to her in one sharp movement. Arya was right behind, almost caught off guard by his sudden turn.

Her chest heaved, the air going in, ragged and painful. She was still trying to catch her breath, and it didn’t help when Gendry was looking at her like that. She wanted to ask it again - does it matter then? - but words were caught in her throat. All she wanted to do was kiss him, show that idiot what he meant to her - but for the first time, she knew, above everything that her royal blood kept them apart. His job was on the line. Her confession meant nothing.

That didn’t stop him. In a split second, he bent down, crowding her space with his form and kissing her so quickly, the breath she was trying to catch was given over to him. His arm snaked around her back, pulling her flush against his chest. She stared, wildly unprepared for him - he stunned her, for the first time. Arya was used to being the one to shake him down, rattle him until he laughed. Now, he was using his height to leverage her off balance, for each kiss she chased, he leaned forward, knocking her back a few steps.

Arya reached up, tugging his jacket from his shoulders, and heard the door slam behind them. Peeking, she saw Gendry’s foot keeping it shut as he tried to find the lock. Arya huffed, shoving him to the door, allowing her to lock it in his stead. Gendry barely even acknowledged that she had done it - other than his hand moving from her waist to her ass, gripping into the soft skin with a roughness she didn’t even realised she liked. Arya bit and nibbled at his lower lip, making him moan into her mouth, and Seven Hells, the sound was intoxicating.

They tumbled off the door, Gendry kicking his shoes and socks off as they roamed the room in a desperate kiss. They kept knocking into furniture until they finally found the safety between her chest of draws and the wall. A few things were knocked off, but it wasn’t a problem at that moment - it was just them, they were the only thing that mattered. Gendry put Arya against the wall, and she tried to fight it, his touch and kiss kept her subdued, completely under his spell.

Gendry fumbled with his hands, roaming down her body until she felt his hands wrench at the button on her jeans. He was rough, tugging her completely off balance and throwing her into him with every pull. She didn’t care, snatching at his tie as hard as she could and unbuttoning his shirt. As he hurried her jeans and underwear around her thighs, she kicked them off as best as she could, only to stop when his hand went directly between her thighs.

Arya whined, the sudden touch so jolting, she had to clutch at his shoulders to steady herself. Delving one finger inside her, Arya tried not to make too much noise - it had been a while since someone else had touched her like that, and when he slipped a second inside, she could tell he knew what he was doing. With his thumb circling her clit, she finally let out a whimper that was far more guttural than she meant it to. And with that, Gendry smirked, his other hand going around her waist and pushing her right up against him. With that, she could feel the hard length of him on her thigh, begging at his trousers for freedom. But it seemed like his only concern was torturing Arya in his own special way.

Gendry suffocated her whimpers and moans,  keeping them as close as possible as he got her off. Arya’s hands curled over his back, clawing at his shirt and dragging it up his back as his pace was unrelenting. When Arya had first had sex, she was abroad studying in Bravos - and from her experience with the guy she hooked up with was nothing like this. He was fumbly, and wanted to touch her, but only really cared about getting himself off. Gendry was well and truly fucking her from start to finish, making sure she knew - he was the only man that was ever going to make her feel this way.

As her nails bore down in his the skin of his back, her orgasm rounding so quickly, she wanted desperately for him to slow down - she knew he wouldn’t. Her brow furrowed, and she had to stop kissing him just to pant. As her cry almost rang out in her room, Gendry sharply kissed her again, his fingers moving fast to get her to the edge. Arya felt her knees tremble, Gendry keeping her upright with his free hand around the back of her waist. He brought his fingers that were just inside her to his mouth, sucking on them, his hips unconsciously rubbing against her thigh. Arya whined, moving his hand away, kissing him again as his hands went back to her body.

“You got anything?” he murmured, in between kisses, trying to hold onto her waist whilst also struggling with his belt.

“Hm?” she hummed, a little dazed, before she decided to help him with his clothes, finally getting his shirt over his head as he finally freed his belt from his pants.

“Condoms?” he confirmed. Arya looked to her side, patting the chest of draws, fumbling for the draw she could reach.

“Top draw, under my underwear,” she said, and Gendry was quick to reach over and find the stack under all her things. Arya undid the button of his pants and unzipped everything. Arya kicked off the remainder of her pants as Gendry let his pants and underwear slip down to his midthigh.

Arya didn’t want to gawk, didn’t want to stare - but fuck, he was big, and he was going to fuck her? That seemed impossible, but there was also a spark of determination in her - that it was going to be good from start to finish. Exactly how he planned, she guessed. Gendry put the condom on, then as they came eye to eye again, he smirked, a devilish look hidden within the blue that stared back. He bent slightly, taking the back of her thighs and hoisting her up against the wall.

Gendry ran his length over her entrance, running it slowly and deliberately over her clit. Arya held onto Gendry’s shoulders as he guided his length inside her. They both moaned, clutching tighter to one another. Gendry collapsed against her, a fist hitting the wall a little too hard. But neither of them cared, Arya’s legs tight around his waist, and Gendry finding his rhythm within her in a matter of moments. He started slow, drawing himself out before pushing his hips up against hers with a force that made Arya gasp.

Gendry had drawn himself out, barely leaving the tip inside before thrusting hard until there was nothing left of him to give. Arya moaned, her pleasure a small cry into the void of the night. With a soft chuckle, Gendry took up the bottom of her shirt, finally removing the fabric and his mouth descending to her breast, moving her bra out of the way so his teeth could nip lightly at her nipple. Arya whined loudly, clawing at the back of his neck.

“Shh, stop making noise,” he warned, thrusting into her as her hips came down at the same time, “ah, fuck!” he groaned into the crook of her neck. Arya tried not to make a sound, mewling when he thrust in another time.

“Don’t tell me what to d-” she started, only for Gendry to buck his hips harder against hers, making her cry a little, “shit,” she gasped, her voice squeaking as sucked on her breast again. He nipped at it, just to see what would get a rise out of her. Most of the time, he was able to do it.  

“Be quiet. I’m fucking royalty here, it’s technically treason,” he reminded her, and Arya dragged her nails down his back, making him hiss then moan.

“Oh, fuck you,” she moaned, fingers combing through the back of his hair.

“You are,” he scoffed, his pace no longer slow and torturing. He came unravelled with whatever was holding him back. He went over and over again, pulling her flush against him every time, panting into her chest, kissing at her skin as she became more desperate for a release. It was building at the very pit of her stomach, legs tightening and loosening around his waist as her body rocked against his.

As her pace unlonger matched his, desperately racing after the lust that was with her, trying to release the coiled mess of her orgasm that was brewing - Gendry continued, grunting a little harder, pace becoming a little more wild along with her.

Her voice was rising in pitch, panting becoming even more girlish than she realised it could. Arya clutched to him, head thrown back as she felt her release coming. Then, Gendry brought his hand to the back of her head, forcing her down to him and kissing him with a force that he wouldn’t relinquish. Gendry was good at that - kissing her to silence the loud noises she was definitely going to make at her ecstasy. She didn’t know how experienced he was - but he was fucking good.

Her orgasm was blissful, and Gendry let her lips go, panting into her chest, as he slowed down his pace, allowing her to ride out the remnants of her climax.

Gods, she hated him.

*~*~*

Arya stepped down from her position on the wall, tugging his neck down to kiss her again. But she wasn’t done, and Gendry could tell he had wildly over stepped. Because she pushed on Gendry’s chest, urging him back until his legs hit her bed. He sat down, and Arya took off her bra before she took off Gendry’s pants that had yet to fall from his thighs.

Climbing on top of him, Arya hooked her legs either side of his hips as she bent over him, catching his lips with her own. Her hair fell around his face. He didn’t realise how much of a mess he put her in - but knowing how hard she dug her nails into his back, he wasn’t unscathed either.

Arya relaxed back onto Gendry’s thighs, stroking his shaft, lying it against her belly before letting the lips between her thighs run delicately over it. The two of them panted, looking the slow way her body moved over his. He wasn’t going to say it, nor would he let himself, but he was ready to come at any moment. All of this had happened so quickly, his heart was in his throat the entire time.

Leading up to this moment, Gendry was trying to distance himself - he knew it was foolish to fall for a princess. But it was different when the princess wanted him too. He took her with all the harshness he could, knowing he couldn’t handle the tenderness after the anger that was charged between them. Arya didn’t relent or ask to stop, in fact, she seemed to be revelling it as much as he was.

Then, Arya guided him into her, the warmth of her making Gendry roll his head back into the mattress. “Fuck,” he murmured, looking back to watch Arya bit her lip, her hands running up and down his bare chest. Then, she started to move, her rhythm was steady, grinding on top of him as she got used to his length. It was clear from the heaving of her chest that she was still trying to get familiar with it within her.

It was as though she became more confident in just a matter of seconds, because she sped herself up, twisting her hips to circle up and down his cock. Now he realised what she was doing. She was going to torture him - for everything that had happened, for all the fights, for the words they spat at each other. He was making him pay. And what a perfect way to suffer. Gendry looked up to the ceiling, praying any god to listen to, and let him last longer, because he wasn’t done cherishing this moment.

Arya lent down, kissing him again and her pace started to become hurried, pushing up against him, and allowing him the chance to finally thrust in deeper than before. He cupped her breast, biting at the slope, making her mewl and throw her head back slightly. She smirked into her next kiss, but Gendry knew why she was being cocky; he could feel her walls tightening down on him. Her orgasm was so close, a desperate tugging of her body against his cock was intoxicating.

That’s when she became needy and hungry, thrusting hard against him, desperate for a climax that is just around the corner. Arya clutched to him, and he grabbed ahold of her hips, hands binding into anything he can purchase. He rocked her hips down harder onto his cock, making sure he filled her as completely as he could, and before he could catch it - Arya moaned, breathing out harshly, and making tight little squeaks as she held onto his body.

Gendry shot up from his back, holding her in his arms, and making her cry a little more, panting a little more heavily - trying her best to catch her breath. Her body arched into his, riding out her climax, her beautiful body sculpting itself to his every time they met in each thrust. Yet, Gendry got lost in her eyes, the grey and captivating - utterly tender as she came apart. He watched face, a fierce woman turned into a tender mess in his arms - all her features soft and begging for him. Only him. She dove back into him, kissing her with a moan on her breath, and her body straight up to his as she hugged around his shoulders. Her kiss was passionate and all consuming, and Gendry loved it, his hand on the back of her head to keep her there. And He couldn’t help himself, he gripped into her ass, bucking up into her as she whimpered again, tight little cries as she was climaxing.

Arya’s skin was more tender than he realised, her climax coming far quicker that time than it had before. And he felt confident in his own way. Gendry couldn’t help himself, tossing her onto her back, and hovering over her as he gripped his shaft back at her entrance. Taking her leg up, he allowed himself better access, driving himself forward in one hard thrust. Arya arched off the mattress, her chest against his for a hard intake of breath before she fell back down on the bed, clutching into the sheets.

With her leg hooked at his elbow, Gendry bent over her - forehead pressed against hers. They watched as their bodies moved against one another, thrusting until they could no longer keep the pace, tiring themselves out quickly. It repeated, slow and fast then back again, drawing it all out and Gendry was in love with it all. He was in love with her so much more than he ever had been before. Arya’s hands went over his back and neck again, keeping herself to him as she moaned, kissing at his shoulder as her body was responding well against his.

In the end, Gendry knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, she was gorgeous beneath him, but he had been wearing down, holding onto a threat of his willpower and was finally near the end of his rope. Gendry let go of her leg, letting it  fall to his hip, and holding himself up just to try and make himself last a little more. He wanted to tell her, to let her know that he wouldn’t be any use in a few moments, but Arya’s legs locked around his thighs, pace speeding up without prompting, and he could feel her walls clenching down again. With her breathing becoming heavy and ragged, he knew she wasn’t going to last much longer.

Her hands went to either side of his face, dragging him down and kissing him. He indulged, letting himself taste her, tongues moving against each other - everything felt perfect. Arya cried out again, and Gendry let out a guttural moan as he finally let himself go. He stilled, his body shaking as he fell into her. Completely weak. Arya’s arms traced into his back, as he got back onto his hands, looking down at her.

In her bliss, she was glowing - like a kind of beauty that no dress could ever add. It was just Arya. Perfectly Arya in utter pleasure. And it was all because of him. And he just couldn’t seem to catch his breath as he looked down at her panting body.

Words were lost between them, and all she did was kiss him - sweet and making him a mess. He buckled down to his elbows, kissing her over and over again, knowing he could keep doing that all night long if he wanted.

And Gods, did he want to.