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beelsjuicytitties · 3 years

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Hunted for Sport

Now to do a complete 180 from my Mammon fic, here is predator/prey Lucifer! this is suuuuuper self indulgent bc i was looking for stuff to read, but nothing was really scratchin the itch yknow? so i wrote this at like 5am

Warnings: NSFW, DUB-CON

Pairing: Lucifer x GN!MC

Words: 2339

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Dubious Consent, Implied Consent, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aftercare, Primal, Predator/Prey, Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, S&M, Injury, Fear Play, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Biting, Kissing, Dark, Rough Sex, Not Beta Read, Sleepy Cuddles, Bubble Bath, Edgeplay, Smut, Possessive Sex

Summary: Please make sure to read the tags before reading! Hunted and fucked in the forest by Lucifer, followed by fluffy aftercare because he has class

Note: Like my last one, this is also on my ao3 which is linked in my bio!

Fear. It was all you could feel as you ran through the forest outside the House of Lamentation. Your chest heaved and your lungs were already starting to burn. ‘How long has it been?’ You managed to think, had it been hours? Or merely minutes? The pain in your ankle pulled you from your thoughts as you crashed to the ground. You curled into yourself as coughs wracked your body, the wind having been knocked out. Your ankle throbbed and you could feel dull stinging from almost every inch of exposed skin, scratches from the foliage marring your skin.

That's when you heard him. His sonorous voice filled your ears as he sang, your brain too foggy to make out the words. The sound grew as his almost casual steps grew closer. ‘Gotta run, gotta escape’ You repeated the thought in your head as you struggled in the underbrush, sucking in a breath as you forced yourself to your feet. You kept moving forward, after all, what else could you do? Give in? No. No matter how nice it might seem to just give in, to surrender and finally be at rest you couldn’t keep yourself from limping on. The pain in your ankle was getting unbearable, aggravated by your desperate attempt at survival. Your vision was getting hazy, and your blood was rushing in your ears, and yet, you could still hear him sing. It was like he was all around you, his voice swirling around and pressing into you.

“Y/n.” Directly behind you. You whip yourself around and hiss, not a good idea as your ankle screams. “Look at you,” Lucifer regarded you, “how pitiful.” Tears were streaming down your face as you backed away slightly. Lucifer matched your movements, keeping the short distance between the two of you the same. You were hyperventilating, your heart was racing, your eyes flicked about quickly, looking for a weakness, a chance to escape, anything. Alas, no such opportunity provided itself, as he quickly closed the gap and grabbed your chin with a gloved hand, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. Hunger, amusement, and arousal swirled in his crimson eyes as he gave you a much too gentle smile. Lucifer leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re not even worth my effort.” His voice was essentially a growl, low and sharp sounding in your ear. “Why don’t you keep running?”

Before you even had the chance to register his words, you were on the forest floor once again. Lucifer had pushed you there. You stared up at him for what felt like forever, he was standing over you, his hands casually resting in his front pockets. “What are you waiting for? Run.” You snapped back to reality. He was letting you go? That didn’t seem right, but you weren't about to wait around and question it. You once again clambered to your feet and took flight, ducking under branches and barreling through bushes. He had started singing again. How far could you go? How much farther would you need to go? Your mind raced as you free your shirt that had caught on a branch. It didn’t matter, you would keep going, you would make it. ‘Dear god let me make it.’ But no god could hear you.

You realized this as you ran headfirst into Lucifer, he wrapped an arm tightly around your waist and clasped a hand around one of your wrists. He was in his demon form at this point, sharp horns protruding from his hair, soft wings fluttering against his back. His grip was tight, like he was trying to squeeze the life from you just like this. “Tsk tsk little lamb, running right into the waiting arms of the one chasing you? I had expected better.” You struggled weakly, your body beginning to give up. Every muscle in your body was weary, unable to do anything against the demon that hadn’t even broken a sweat. He buried his face in your neck with a deep laugh. “You know you can’t go on, don’t you lamb?” He took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with your scent. “Just give into me.” His breath was somehow cold against your flushed skin, and your knees gave in, causing you to slump in his grip. Another laugh rumbled his chest, this time much more wicked. “Wonderful.”

You suddenly felt a sharp pain in your neck, your tired brain taking a few moments to realize Lucifer had bitten into you. A choked whimper escaped your lips. Blood trickled down from where his mouth still sat, the metallic taste filling his mouth, causing him to let out a moan. It was a shallow bite, not something you could bleed out from. He greedily lapped and sucked at your neck as the bleeding began to slow. His hand released your wrist, opting to instead explore your thigh, hips, and ass. He squeezed hard on your ass, earning another whimper from you. He swiftly turned you around and pushed you to the ground, your knees, chest, and face all making contact with the hard ground. Lucifer pressed himself against you, grinding slightly against you as he growled in your ear, “You. Are. Mine.” His words filled your mind, repeating over and over.”

You felt his weight pull off of you, before he ripped what was left of your top off, leaving you cold and shivering. Lucifer pulled his gloves off, and threw them to the side. He raked his claws down your back, small crimson beads forming along the bright burning scratched he left behind. His hands reached the waistband of your bottoms, and he swiftly rid you of them along with your underwear. He let out a deep growl as he kneaded your ass, staring hungrily down at your fully exposed body. Suddenly, you could feel his mouth on your ass, his tongue skillfully swirling and prodding the tight hole. He tongued your ass with vigor, claws digging into your ass cheeks as his grip tightened. Small moans began to fall from your mouth, just loud enough that he could hear them. He pulled back much to your.. Disappointment? Surely, you couldn’t be disappointed that he had stopped rimming you.

You heard the pop of a lid, followed by a cold, wet finger rubbing against your ass. Had he brought lube? Huh. Lucifer began to press his finger into you, easily slipping the whole finger in. He wiggled the finger inside you for a moment, before he began to push a second finger into you. This finger was met with slight resistance, taking a tiny bit longer to fit inside you. Once both fingers were full inside, he began to scissor them, opening and stretching you out. He pushed them in and out as well, curling his fingers as he went. Your legs were shaking, and your sex was dripping from the stimulation. He hummed as he added a third finger, really making sure to prepare you for what was next.

Just as you felt you could take no more, Lucifer pulled his fingers from you. You whined and your ass was gaping slightly from the loss of his fingers. “Oh?” his voice was filled with amusement. “Could it be that you’re wanting this?” He chuckled, which was shortly followed by the sound of a zipper. His thick cock rubbed between your ass cheeks, he drizzled more lube across the top of his cock as the bottom got coated by what was already on your ass. “I can’t wait any longer.” You felt the head of his cock press against your ass, and quickly pop in, eliciting a moan from you, and a deep groan from him. He pressed deeper, stretching and filling you more than you could’ve imagined.

As he bottomed out, he placed a hand against your back, and his other hand on your hip. “F-fuck,” he swore as he pulled back slowly, before quickly snapping his hips foreward. He began to set a pace, not very fast, but his thrusts were rough, pushing you forward each time. His claws dug into your skin as he quickened, letting his moans and groans fall freely. His hand shifted from your hip to your sex, long fingers moving defltly and driving you insane. You were close and he could tell. “Are you going to cum?” he panted out. “What a filthy slut, going to cum out here in the woods.” His fingers and thrusts pushed you over the edge, and you let out a strangled moan that was on the verge of sounding like a scream. As your orgasm wracked your body, causing you to shake all over, you tightened on Lucifer's cock, basically sucking him in.

Lucifer did not let up, his fingers continued working your sex, his thrusts remained as quick and rough as they had been. The sensation was overwhelming, your vision was spotty and it was all you could do to manage to breath. He followed close behind you, groaning as he released his cum deep into your ass. His thrusts continued though, slightly more erratic, but not slowing down. “You really think im -mng- finished with you?” He leaned over your back and kissed at your neck. “As if.” He pulled out of you momentarily, and flipped you onto your back. He swiftly reinserted himself and leaned over you. He rested on his forearms, framing your head as he caught your mouth in his. He thrust slowly now, grinding himself into you as he messily kissed you. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed back. “Mmhh, what a sweet little lamb you are,” he purred between kisses.

He kept going like this, slowly fucking you, almost passionately. Alternating between kissing your mouth, cheeks, neck, ears, anywhere he could reach. It was almost as if you were making love in his bed at home, the way he treated you now. You could feel yourself grow closer to orgasm again, and you clamped down on his cock. He smiled against your skin upon feeling this. “Close again, little lamb?” his voice was still rough in your ears, but there was a small hint of sweetness to it. “I’m close too.” You tangled a hand into his hair at those words, running your nails against his scalp and tugging gently. He shifted his weight to support himself with one arm, and slid a hand between the two of you to rub against your sex once more.

His thrusts quicked slightly as his orgasm built, and he gently moaned your name in your ear. “I want you to cum with me lamb, fuck I’m so close.” You weakly moaned his name in response, your voice thick in your throat. He suddenly thrust hard into you, and filled you once more with his cum. The warm feeling combined with his fingers pushed you over for the second time, you continually moaned out his name as you rode out your orgasm. Your breaths began to slow as he brought his hand up to your mouth. You opened your mouth and cleaned yourself from his hand. He caressed your cheek with his now cleaned hand. “Such a good lamb for me.”

He pulled himself from you, zipping his softening cock back into his pants. He helped you sit up and kissed you sweetly, before wrapping you up in his coat and picking you up. “Let’s get you home, hm?” He whispered as you settled into his arms, head resting on his chest. You nodded and closed your eyes as the two of you walked in a warm silence to the House of Lamentation. Before you knew it, you had reached his room. He gently set you on his bed. “I’ll run a bath.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, before retreating to his private bathroom. You sighed happily, cuddling into his coat and breathing in his scent. It wasn’t long before sweet floral scents began wafting from the bathroom. Lucifer emerged from the bathroom with a first aid kit. “Time to clean up lamb.” You begrudgingly shed his coat, moving as he instructed to give him better access to the various scrapes, cuts, and bite marks. He whispered praise as he cleaned you up with an antiseptic, peppering in plenty of ‘I love you’s.

He gets to your ankle and you winced. You really managed to do a number on that one. He had used a small amount of magic on the larger of the cuts, but he used more on your ankle. The swelling immediately reduced, and the pain lessened and dulled. “Thank you love,” you managed to croak, your voice not quite ready to be used much. He kissed your nose.

“Of course, now, I think the bath is ready.” With that, he picked you up once more, carrying you into the bathroom and helping you into the warm bubble bath he had prepared. He quickly shed his own clothes, and slipped in the tub behind you, wrapping his arms around you. You lean back into him, resting your head against his shoulder. The two of you stay like this, holding each other as he hummed gently. As you felt the water start to cool, you took turns washing the other, gently cleaning off your skin, and massaging your hair. Once you were both clean, Lucifer helped you out of the tub, wrapping a fluffy towel around your shoulders. He drained the tub as you worked on toweling off, he followed suit once he was finished with the tub.

Now dry, Lucifer returned to tending to your wounds. Applying ointments and bandages, then gently wrapping your ankle. He let out a yawn, and laughed lightly at himself. “Time for bed it seems.” You nodded, giving a yawn yourself. You shimmy under the covers, Lucifer laid himself next to you and wrapped his arms around you. “Good night lamb, sweet dreams.” He kissed you once more, before you both drifted off to sleep.

#obey me #shall we date obey me #lucifer #obey me lucifer #luci #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #smut #obey me smut #obey me fanfic #obey me one shot #fluff #angst #dubcon #blood #aftercare #predator prey #adrians writing

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heyitsyn · 4 years

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Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 5

a/n: ong this is going to be a bit of a crack episode w a tiny dash of flirty manager

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

anon:

-Watch the boys be all dramatic when yn misses a few days of school and suddenly show up with a broken arm😭✊🏻😔

- Dunno if this is a dream or not but i think you mentioned that yn is clumsy. Just imagine her carrying those cute band aids around for when she gets hurt. But what if she uses them on the boys when they get hurt

tumblr moot:

- She is looking down at the boy who is checking her scrap on her knee, when she smiles all cutely and shit "I fell for you" And cue the boy having a heart attack because she is way to cute

im totally not running out of seijoh gifs or anything

anyways!!

lets start!!

okay as mentioned before and as read above,,

you are quite clumsy

like there is a normal level of clumsy

but you are just on another level

like in manager part 2, your mom ltr was not shocked when you said you fell up the stairs like ‘oh okay. the weathers nice today’

lmao what

and youre also the type to not even know you got hurt like youd just be scratching your arm and youd find a bruise

‘how did that get there?’

so it was common to find you with band-aids on you and bruises all over

like you entered the gym for practice and you were just doing your normal manager tingz when our meme bois saw you and zoomed towards you

‘y/n-chan!!! we missed you!!!!

makki screeched which scared you so you dropped the crate of bottles onto your feet

‘owie’

you mumbled, the pain settling in at an overwhelmingly quick pace so there were tiny tears in your eyes

the duo gasped and quickly kicked the crate to the side like they were angry at it for hurting you

uwu omg thats so cute

or the one time you were wiping the sweat from kyo’s forehead

he had a small soft smile that could only be seen by you as you got rid of the sweat

but that smile turned into a frown when he got a glimpse at the discoloration on certain parts of your arms

‘y/n’

he whispered

you blinked up and he gently grabbed your arm, fingertips ghosting over the bruises

‘how could you do this to your beautiful skin’

he mumbles and you shrugged

‘hmm,,, i didnt even know they were there’

kyo shook his head with an amused chuckle and iwa, who was drinking water at the side, noticed you two

then he noticed more at your other arm and baby boi hurriedly ran over to you

next thing you know, you got best bois fussing over you always hurting yourself and kyo gently headbutts you to tell you off while iwa flicks your nose

‘honestly, we cant trust you by yourself’

you just giggled at them which caused them to stumble and fluster

THESE BOYS ARE SO SOFT LIKE PLEASE

its quite normal for you to look like you just fell down the stairs and be so surprised whenever the boys point it out

like youd have this confused pout and tilt your head ‘hm? hello. how did you get here’

its kinda cute

and ofc you would naturally have your ointments for bruises or a first aid kit at all times bc you never really know when it happens and you need to treat it quickly

the boys always count on you for medical tape when their fingers bleed or whenever watari gets bruises all over his legs bc of too many flying dives

the bench was a common place for you to treat the others and our libero babie was sitting there at one practice

you were kneeled on the floor and gently applying ointment on the growing colors on his skin

‘hmm,,, wata-san, be careful next time, okay? your skin is really soft and pretty. its a shame to ruin it’

he wanted to scoff at the irony and the hypocritical comment but your worried and concerned eyes made him softly smile and nod

‘mhm. i will’

even though it was uneeded on reddened places, you would dig in your bag and fish out a gudetama bandaid on it

it was like a doctor’s signature for you and it makes the boys ltr fall in love with you all over again

ororororor that one time where kindaichi accidentally got a papercut during your study sessions and he was tearing up slightly at the pain

LMAO YALL REALLY OUT HERE TOUGHING OUT PAPERCUTS LIKE ITS NOTHING BUT I ACT LIKE I GOT STABBED 10 TIMES

you grinned at him to show that it was going to be okay and he let you sit on his lap so you could treat it

he still had a pout and you were giving him forehead kisses to calm him down

‘see? its going to be okay. nurse y/n-chan is the best out there and she’ll take care of you!’

he laughed slightly and you victoriously smiled

once it was all wrapped up, you placed a kiss on it

‘ya gotta kiss it to make it better’

not saying im doing a kindaichi route or anything but he may or may not tackled you with kisses with that comment

but sometimes, they would have to be the one to put that bandaid on you

like one day, you were walking down the stairs to go to the changing rooms for practice and humming softly when you caught sight of the tall volleyball player mattsun at the bottom of the stairs

he was just passing by and you noticed him, waving your hand and shouting his name

‘mattsun-san!’

you greeted and he turned and he smiled brightly at you

you excitedly increased your pace going down the stairs, not noticing that you stepped on the edge of the step and caused your foot to slip

unfortunately, mattsun was too far away for him to catch you so you tripped and scraped your knee

he flashnyoomed over to you and kneeled in front of you to examine it

ofc it hurt like hell but you put up a brave front

‘its okay, mattsun-san’

his adorable eyebrows scrunched in concern and he quickly shook his head and gently picked you up to sit 2 steps up

you watched silently as he grabbed ahold of the familiar blue first aid kit from your bag and he opened it to take out alcohol and other treatment things

his fingers worked to open the bottle and pour a little bit of alcohol before he gently reached out to grab your leg

but before that, our babie mattsun is a gentleman and looked up for a permission to help you

‘its okay, mattsun-san’

you giggled and you booped his nose

he was slowly cleaning the wound and you could still tell he was worried with how his brows were still furrowed

‘mattsun-san’

you called out and he looked up

you smiled cutely and looked down, flustered, then met his eyes again

‘i fell for you’

mattsun.exe stopped working

like deadass he blanked for a second then his brain processed what you said and when he did, he dropped the cotton ball and his face blew up red

this babie grimaced, eyes shutting tightly and head leaning on your thigh

you giggled at him and ran your hands through his hair

‘i swear, y/n, i swear’

he kept mumbling and his heartbeat quickened to the point he felt faint and he felt light-headed

you were just too cute

too damn cute for his heart

too damn cute for this world

just too cute

and thats not good

mattsun quickly regained his senses and hurriedly placed the ointment and the bandaid on to finish the job

you reached out with your hands for a hug and mattsun gladly leaned in and you clung to him like a koala which made him hold you tightly against his chest

‘hmm~~~~ thank you, mattsun-san’

you appreciated and gave him a kiss on his cheek in gratitude which made him hide his face in your neck

‘im going to get a heart attack, y/n. take responsibility’

he mumbled, nipping your neck

you chuckled and played with the hair on his neck

‘hm~ okay~ i take responsibility~’

I SWEAR MY MATTSUN SIMP IS NOW PEAKING THROUGH

that was only one of the accidents the seijoh boys went through with you and i swear those boys have superior intelligence in medical care just because you get hurt so much

until that one faithful day

you werent there

you werent at school or at practice

ofc you texted the coaches and the team that you werent going to be at school for a while and they spammed you asking what happened or if you were okay

but you didnt want to worry them so you just said that you were okay and it was just something that happened

ONG OIKAWA ACTUALLY CAME TO YOUR HOUSE BUT YOU TOLD YOUR PARENTS AND NATSU TO TELL HIM TO GO AWAY BC IF HE FINDS OUT WHAT HAPPENED, THE CHILE WILL STORM INTO YOUR ROOM AND LECTURE YOU

HE ONLY WENT AWAY WHEN YOUR DAD CAME OUT WITH A BROOM AND THREATENED TO HIT HIM IF HE CONTINUES TO BOTHER YOU

UKAI VIBES HONESTLY

IS UKAI YOUR FATHER?

CONSPIRACY THEORY?

BUZZFEED UNSOLVED COME SOLVE THIS

then you finally appeared

dear god

kunimi saw you enter the classroom and he almost shot up to saturn when he saw your cast

‘y/n!’

he shouted and kindaichi heard it from his classroom beside yours and he also usain bolted towards your classroom to your desk

the boi texted the team you were here and they all raced to your classroom

EVERYONE WAS HAVING A FIELD DAY WITH THE APPEARANCE OF THE BEAUTIFUL VOLLEYBALL TEAM LIKE THE BOYS + YOU?! GODSEND

oikawa screeched at the sight of your arm and everyone was firing questions at you but you couldnt focus on one so you just sat there sheepishly smiling

‘Y/N! WHAT DID-’

‘I SWEAR ITS LIKE WE HAVE TO-’

‘MY HEART ALMOST DIED!! I THOUGHT YOU DIED-’

thank god your professor entered the shooed them out with a large textbook but your teacher smiled at you

‘l/n, good to have you back’

at lunch, dear god there was a riot

kunimi strong man kunimi hoisted you in his arms and walked over to the hidden team stairwell where everyone was waiting

they all had narrowed eyes and crossed arms, with iwakyo tapping their foot

you did the 🥺👉👈 and their eyes softened at that sight alone

‘you see,,,, i had a,,, concert,,, in the shower,,, and slipped’

they blinked, confusion swirling over everyone’s head

‘excuse me? you said you slipped in the bath?’

‘for a concert?’

‘you sing?’

the team facepalmed at the reason you came in with a broken arm and you pouted at them

‘sorry, captain, everyone. i didnt mean to’

you mumbled but the others couldnt blame you so they pulled you to a group hug

‘i swear, y/n-chan, you will get yourself killed one day’

‘sorry’

you apologized again but oikawa flicked your nose

‘no dont apologize. we’ll just have to be there for you constantly to look out for you’

and he stuck to that word

like oikawa came over to your house early in the morning to pick you up from school and your dad thought it was just him bothering again

so he sighed, placed his newspaper down, took a sip of tea, then stood up to go to the closet for his broom

this mans took a deep breath before opening his door and shouting and waving his broom around maniacally

‘SHUT UP!!! YOURE DISTURBING THE NEIGHBORS!! I WILL BEAT YOUR LOUD CRUSTY DUSTY-’

that woke up everyone in the house and you bolted down the stairs, terrified yet chuckling at the sight

then something happened for everyone in the neighborhood-or Japan- to wake up

yanno the drill ladies and gents

oikawa screamed

a/n: sorry i disappeared for a HOT SEC but im back!! and we finally going back to the groove!!! and uwu thanks for sticking by and waiting for another update and the next one might be my first not-seijoh work in a LONG WHILE so look forward to that!!!

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steepgan · 3 years

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someone dear (ii) - d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

diluc pov... im practicing writing for this fic im writing so sorry if its BAD... also TW BL//D ..!! hmm i definitely drew inspiration from pride and prejudice while writing this LMFAOOO um <3 sry jane austen for ruining ur book >,< also i did not edit this either um.

Diluc had always known that [Name] was committed to money, if not her job. He didn’t know why. It was obviously something very personal to [Name], and he didn’t have enough time to meddle into his employee’s affairs. If he questioned her about it, she might’ve felt compelled to tell him. Or she’d request him to pay her for the secret.

He was more than willing to give [Name] a little money. She was a hard worker as well as a young woman of excellent tastes. Given her personality, he would have thought her as a bartender for Cat’s Tail—a rival of his with excellent drinks that was taking Mondstadt’s wine industry by storm. But [Name] was here, working diligently with the same old grin on her face.

There would be some days where she’d request the bard to play a somber song because she thought it was fitting for her mood. Diluc’d overheard her complaining to Charles about getting a cut on her hand from picking up shards of glass.

She worked so frequently that Angel’s Share wouldn’t be Angel’s share without her. Perhaps she’d been saving up for something big, like a trip. Diluc could see her roaming around the seven nations with no clear destination. She had a wanderer’s soul, really. If she ever left, would Diluc be able to find a replacement?

Certainly he would.

[Name] was just a worker, and it was Diluc’s duty to see to it that he had excellent employees. And if she was good and brave, then the rest of the city could be good and brave.

“Charles,” Diluc called out. The Abyss Order was still at large. Tonight he’d roam the city streets to keep the people safe. “I can take tonight’s shift for you.”

The bartender bowed graciously. Days off for him were very rare. “Thank you, Master Diluc,” he said before casting a side glance at [Name], “although have you thought about taking [Name]’s shift instead? She’s been working lots lately…”

[Name], who’d overheard them, lifted her head up from the cupboard beneath the bar she was cleaning. She hit her head on the counter and wobbled over. Scratching the crown of her head, she chuckled nervously. “Oh, I’m all right! I’d be happy to work a little extra anyway.”

Diluc furrowed his brows. It’d be better if he had the tavern to himself so his identity wouldn’t be exposed. Unfortunately, [Name] was such a good worker that she’d seen him come back into the tavern after a good fight one too many times. Firing her was out of the question because she did her job well, and it would be terrible of him to get rid of her because of his bad blood with the knights.

However, [Name] didn’t really care, which was good. He didn’t give that raise to her for nothing. Diluc said, “[Name], are you sure?”

“No worries, Master Diluc,” she said.

And then it happened to be that night where Diluc stumbled back to Angel’s Share with his arm noticeably limp and his black clothes damp with blood.

It was just [Name] sitting at the bar, flipping through a magazine of catalogs Diluc couldn’t be bothered with. His arm was searing with pain—to the point where he could feel nothing at all. Numbness. It wasn’t too bad; he’d dealt with worser injuries.

He considered himself lucky enough to find Angel’s Share in the first place, even with the lanterns lighting up the road. Diluc had to avoid all the usual patrols of the Favonius Knights.

Diluc was blinking through sweat, trying to register the bright lights of inside the tavern. Everything was so spotty and brilliant with gold explosions. He shouldn’t have decorated the inside so lavishly. [Name]’s head jolted up at the sight of him. Had she been falling asleep on the job? How unprofessional… but there were no people in here, so Diluc didn’t care.

With the decorations so shiny behind her, she looked like a fancy chandelier. Like the one at Dawn Winery. So shimmery.

[Name] rushed to Diluc’s side. “Master Diluc? Are you okay? You’re—you’re severely injured!”

“I’m fine,” he gritted out.

“You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not the end of the world, is it?” Diluc snapped. [Name] was taken aback. He sighed. “Sorry. Just leave me be. I’ll go upstairs and—”

His world started spinning. [Name] caught him.

She looked frantic. “I’m not the best at wrapping up wounds, but I know a trick or two from Lisa!” Diluc’s disdain must’ve shown because [Name] immediately added, “I know she’s a part of the knights, but healing is healing. Let’s get you to the bar.”

[Name] was probably curious. She might’ve wanted to know what Diluc was doing out at night and how he’d gotten himself injured. Diluc tugged himself away from [Name]’s grasp. “No,” he said. He could heal himself. He could handle it on his own. “I got it.”

“Let me do this,” she insisted, “temporarily.”

Diluc had always been alone. He worked on missions by himself. He protected the city of Mondstadt by himself. The Knights of Favonius were no good, really. It was up to him alone. Just Diluc. It's always been just Diluc. It was just Diluc when he left the knights, and it was just Diluc when he insisted that Inspector Eroch take his father’s death more seriously.

“I’m okay,” he said. “Leave me alone. Pretend you saw nothing.”

I’m injured, he thought. I need medical assistance. I know some medicine. No, I don’t. There’s painkillers upstairs. Yeah… painkillers upstairs.

[Name] made up her mind and grabbed Diluc’s good arm. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re very hurt. And I know you told me to leave you alone, but you look like you’re in pain. I can’t do much, but at least let me help you just for a second.”

No, I’m doing just spiffy! Diluc wanted to say. But that wouldn’t help his case. He’d gone through worse alone. An arm cut was nothing compared to his past. This wouldn’t kill him, but it hurt so, so bad. He’d live, though, and as long as Diluc had all his limbs intact by the end of the day, he’d still protect Mondstadt.

[Name] took advantage of Diluc’s internal struggle to sit him down at the bar. She ran to the back to grab supplies before coming back out. She dropped a pair of fine scissors, swore, and then picked it back up. [Name] forced Diluc’s coat off of him, tossing it aside.

Diluc had seen [Name] eye his nice coat from time to time, and he had half a mind to give it to her just for fun. But she paid no mind to it now. Blood was smeared over his arm.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “It matches the color of your hair.”

“Thanks,” he said. The pain spiked. “I don’t suppose you want financial compensation for taking care of me.”

She shook her head. [Name] is good and brave, Diluc had thought then. She snipped a certain length of a linen bandage she’d brought out from the back. “I’m still working within work hours. The usual pay is enough for me.”

Diluc had a lot to say.

“But I’m not the best at wrapping wounds,” [Name] admitted. “Promise me you’ll see a professional after this. Hopefully one of your personal assistants?”

“Okay,” he said.

“This might sting,” she warned. She dabbed a clean cloth into alcohol before wiping it gently over his arm. She held his arm gently, her cool hand keeping him steady while she cleaned away the germs and infection. Compared to the searing pain of the cut, the alcohol was nothing.

I don’t like this, Diluc thought. [Name] knows too much. I’m no longer alone. I don’t like this at all.

The night was silent, only filled with [Name] working with her limited materials to patch Diluc up. It was awkward, and the tension was as thick as burnt steak.

For his pride and for the livelihood of Mondstadt, [Name] could not know that he was protecting the city at night. She was too friendly with the knights. She talked way too much. She could accidentally spill Diluc’s secrets. This was not good.

“Have you ever thought about working at the winery itself?” Diluc proposed. If firing her wouldn’t do the trick, then maybe sending her away from the city would.

[Name] looked perplexed. “Why?”

Diluc tried to imagine [Name] as a maid at his winery, keeping the interior clean. [Name] could drag a drunkard outside no problem, but could she clean the fine, delicate decorations that made the inside of the winery so neat? Could she be happy working there? Frankly, Diluc couldn’t imagine [Name] as someone who’d enjoy working at the winery at all.

“You wouldn’t make a good maid,” he said out of the blue.

“What?” [Name] furrowed her brows. “I’d make a great maid. I’d be the best maid ever.”

“Prove it,” he said. “You should work at the winery. It’s a bit of a distance, but I could pay for your travel fare.”

“Same wage?”

“Same wage.”

[Name]’s fingers held the bandage as she began to wrap it around his arm. She worked quickly with the skill of a bartender who had plenty of customers and little time. Her touch danced over his skin, and he was fighting the rising urge to blush.

“Thank you, Master Diluc, but I’m okay. I like working here. I’d imagine it’s more fun,” she said. “If it’s the same wage, I might as well enjoy being here in the city while working.”

“You care about fun?” Diluc was surprised. Given the last six months, he thought all she cared about was small talk and money. “All right, then.”

“I can’t believe you got hurt,” she said. [Name] almost sounded mad. “It’s not so bad to ask others for help when you need it.”

You should be mad at me for other things.

“I can do things alone,” Diluc said. “I don’t exactly need anyone, really. This is just a one time thing. I could have healed myself on the second floor, but you had to interfere—”

“Master Diluc,” [Name] said, “I don’t know what failed you or who let you down, but we do need people.”

Diluc was growing cross. His ugly pride poked his chest. “I know that.”

People needed each other! It was how civilizations came about, and it was how empires fell. That was why he protected Mondstadt. That was why he prowled the streets. He did it because the people needed someone competent, and he did it because the knights would let the people down just as they did he.

People needed him.

“Dependency isn’t bad,” [Name] further added. “One day, you will find people who helped you, and you will help them in return. It’s only natural to need people, Master Diluc. We all need people. We all need company.”

“Too much dependency is—” The pain ran up his arm.

“Well, of course,” [Name] said. “Independence is a good thing, too. It’s highly sought after. Maybe being a lone wolf is exactly up your ally, Mr. Diluc, but the idea of a lone wolf is somewhat of an oxymoron. Wolves always prefer to travel in a pack.”

Do I really want to be alone all my life? Diluc thought. “I guess you’re right,” he said instead. “You have my thanks.”

“You pay me,” she pointed out cheerfully, and Diluc’s heart panged.

“[Name].” The words left his mouth before he could even think. “Why do you work so hard? Is there something you work toward?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “Being financially stable has always been a dream of mine. As well as putting enough food on the table and buying all these nice clothes.”

Diluc was surprised. “No family?”

“I do have, but they’re in Liyue as of now. We talk occasionally, but I like to live my own life how I like it.” [Name] nodded. “If I work for anything at all, I’d have to say I work for myself. I like working here, and I work because the journey is just as fun as the destination. A cozy retirement is not worth enjoying if one didn’t work hard to get there. Is there someone or something you work for, Master Diluc?”

Many gods ran through his mind. Deities upon deities. Alters upon alters.

“Mondstadt and its citizens,” Diluc responded. “The knights are the definition of inefficient. I clear up a few enemies on the streets sometimes”— he’d realized he essentially spilled his secret hobby to [Name]—“but it’s nothing big.”

“Take pride, Master Diluc,” [Name] said. Had she figured it out? Diluc felt small underneath her working fingertips. “I take it you’re a nocturnal vigilante?”

Diluc swore internally. “I suppose.”

“So did you choose the name Darknight Hero? You’re the talk of the town.”

It was good that the people were romanticizing his adventures. It gave them a sense of peace and normalcy. However, the name was absolutely atrocious. “I don’t like that name,” Diluc said.

“What do you prefer they call you, then?”

Preferably, nothing. Diluc did not do this for attention. He was supposed to be one with the shadows. But [Name] made him feel seen. He felt exposed to some terrible light.

Diluc had to remember that [Name] was an employee under him. She was one of the many citizens he had to protect. She shouldn’t be wrapping up his arm like this. Diluc should be writhing in pain alone upstairs with [Name] none the wiser.

Her touch was soft. Her fingertips barely touched the surface of his skin. Her hands were no longer cool but warm and alive. She took care of him so gently that Diluc forgot he was a weapon and felt like a cherished object.

For someone who claimed she wasn’t proficient in wound-wrapping, she did a decent temporary job. Of course, a visit to Diluc’s private doctor was still necessary.

Though her company was nice, Diluc was accustomed to flying solo.

“You must really love Mondstadt,” [Name] said. “You’re a very good man.”

Diluc opened his mouth and then closed it.

[Name] finished wrapping his wounds. The bandage was snug around his arm, and Diluc found comfort in its presence. It was far too bad someone would take it off later to properly inspect Diluc’s cut. “Well, that's about it for my medical expertise which is ultimately none.”

“Thank you,” Diluc said.

“I would advise you to return to your winery, but it’s nighttime, and there’s monsters prowling about,” [Name] said. “I don’t doubt your athletic abilities, but you’re hurt. You should maybe eat something and rest. Early in the morning you can leave.”

[Name] was in no position to tell Diluc what to do. Diluc was her employer, her—Diluc looked at the time. [Name] was technically done with work. Technically speaking, Diluc wasn’t the boss of her as of right now.

And Diluc knew that [Name] was simply offering suggestions. Good suggestions. His pride as a hero told him to refuse and make the trek back to the winery by himself. But his reason pulled him back to her.

“Would you like something to eat, Master Diluc?”

“All right.”

Soon, Diluc’s arm was noticeably better. After consulting a legitimate professional, Diluc took great care of his arm and trained it back to health. His days were moreover the same after that. He swept the city streets and night and returned to his winery every so often, as he couldn’t let sales go down while he was playing hero.

Though, what kind of hero gets injured? Diluc thought to himself bitterly.

[Name] had called him a good man; well, of course, he was. The knights were anything but good and competent. But was he a good hero? What sort of hero spat swears and curses at the knights? What sort of hero harbored a deep, festering hatred for the very institution that supposedly protected the people?

She was the only one who’d touched him like that. She touched him so softly when wrapping him up that Diluc felt more a man than a hero. It wasn’t good. Diluc needed his priorities straight. He was grateful for [Name] and for that night, and this new feeling of gratefulness was lodged in his throat.

He’d offered to financially compensate, but [Name] turned the offer down. She was weird. She salivated at the thought of money, but when Diluc put more money on the table, [Name] refused to eat.

Diluc was not used to feeling owed to anyone but himself. He had a feeling that he’d feel more gratefulness to others in the future, and that scared him. If they were as stubborn as [Name], then how would he pay them back?

Did he need to pay her back? Was it only natural for people to rely on each other? Did he always have to be alone? Could he really move forward without the feeling of solidarity?

It was all right to be alone. But it was not so bad to rely on other people once in a while.

Some days, he’d see [Name] feeding a dog leftovers through the window of his tavern. She’d be crouched over, whistling and patting the ground to get the dog’s attention. The dog would wag his tail delightfully and trot over to her. And Diluc had half a mind to warn [Name] about infection, but the dog seemed awfully fond of her.

Then there were some days where she was so happy that you could clean the tavern free of charge. While money was a prospect to her, she seemed to act on her own whims and happiness. If that happiness was to clean the tavern without pay, then she would.

She was strange. An enigma. She was the most magical a human being could get.

Diluc and Charles were once sitting at the bar while [Name] was dusting the nooks and crannies of the stairway, humming to herself.

“She ought to be happier more often.”

Charles raised a brow at Diluc’s words. Could the impassive Diluc be feeling love? “Why?”

“So she can clean my tavern for free more often.”

“Sure, Master Diluc.”

PART I - PART II - PART III

#jane austen from the dead reading this bad rendition:#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact #fluff

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ladybugsfanfics · 4 years

Text

The Case of the Blue Sweater | Tom Hiddleston

Pairing: Mob!Tom Hiddleston x cop!reader

Style: one shot

WC: 10.7k

Warnings: crime, alcohol, drinking, implied sexual content (very much so), uhh, theres no blood, also NB: THIS STORY IS INCOMPLETE AND I WONT BE THE ONE TO FINISH IT! (story is also unedited to please dont hate me for any mistakes)

Summary: Hey so I read your Mob!Tom x reader and it got me thinking.. Could you write a Fic where Tom is in the mob but the reader is a cop? And like they’re secretly dating but technically the reader has to make it look like they’re hunting him down but they really aren’t? (If that makes sense) Idk I feel like I just need this in my life rn 😂😂

A/N: i got this ask back in january i think and i jumped on it right away, but at some point tumblr deleted it so i cant tag who asked (and i know this wasnt anonymous bc i remember but i never put it in the doc annoyingly). anyways, i started writing it, got to 10k words and lost motivation and never finished it. i really like the AU but nothing ever really happened.... im so sorry. I hope you enjoy what i have ^_^

A loud ringing paired with the loudest on and off buzzing from your phone vibrating on the nightstand is what pulls you out of your slumber. The sounds screech in your ears and you reach over to stop it, to just slide the button over so that your ears can stop bleeding. However, as you lean out of the arms wrapped around you, their grip strengthens and you’re dragged back into the chest of the man sharing your bed.

“Tom,” you say. A smile plays on your lips, the set of events not unusual for an early morning.

He nuzzles into your hair, places a wet kiss at the base of your neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbles into your skin.

You shake your head slightly, as much as you can with the limited space. “Can I at least turn the sound off?”

His grip slackens, making you able to reach the little way over to turn off the blaring alarm. The silence that comes with is welcome in every way, but the relief isn’t long-lasting when Tom drags you back into his chest, his nose quickly nuzzling back to where it was.

Two seconds is what it takes before he’s pressing kisses to your neck. Rough, slender fingers graze up the side of your body until they reach your neck, where they brush away your hair. With Tom’s easy access, the soft kisses slowly turn into something more, something rougher, and the use of his tongue causes a slight tickle to trail through your body.

“Tom.” You shift a little where you lay, taking away his access as you turn your head. In the shift, the man easily moves to trail kisses up your jaw, and as you whisper his name again, his lips connect with yours.

It’s a hungry kiss. He sucks at your bottom lip and his hand grabs your jaw, holding your head in place. You lean into him, kissing him back with equal fervor, however, you’re quickly dragged out of the bliss, when your phone goes off again.

There is no mistaking the death glare Tom sends the mini-computer. You chuckle slightly and push him off you to reach it. This time, it’s not an alarm, but a phone call.

Your boss’s call ID lights up the screen, and you give Tom a stern look as you press to accept the call. With the phone to your ear, Tom shrugs and moves under the covers. His hands trail down your body, teasing you as his fingers trace up your inner thighs.

“Y/L/N,” you say.

A grunt is heard from the other side first, then, “I need you to come in ASAP.” Your boss’s voice sounds urgent, desperate.

You check the clock. “I’m not supposed to come in in another hour,” you reply. “Is it that important?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” It’s like you can hear him nod and roll his eyes at the same time. “We got a lead in the case.”

“What kind of lead? And which case?”

As your boss answers, you can feel Tom’s tongue on the inside of your thigh. In surprise at the feeling you barely manage to suppress the squeal that works up in your throat, and you miss your boss’s reply. (You don’t miss Tom’s smug laugh from under the duvet, nor how he continues to work his way closer to your clit.)

“Y/L/N?” comes from the other end of the line when you gain back… well, really some of your dignity, but mostly your mind.

“I’m here, sir.” You sigh. “Just something that happened that caught my attention. Cat nearly knocked down something made of glass.”

(You don’t have a cat, why was that the first excuse you could come up with? Your boss doesn’t know that, though, so it’s safe.)

“Didn’t know you had a cat, but that could happen to the best of us.” Your boss clears his throat. “The lead’s pretty good, but can’t say it over the phone so you gotta come in. It’s on the case about the Blue Sweater.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname of the case. One of the major criminals you were trying to take down is often seen wearing blue sweaters, and at a briefing you’d offered it as a code name; who knows who listens in on phone calls―they do seem to have a knack for being one step ahead of you, too.

But you don’t mention that to your boss. “Alright, sir, I’ll be on my way as fast as I can.”

“Make it less than half an hour and we’re good.”

“No problem, sir.”

Your boss is the one to hang up, and as you throw your phone down on the bed, Tom peeks his head up from under the covers. You send him a glare. “You should be happy you didn’t get started whilst I was on the phone.”

Your boyfriend smirks up at you. “Oh, you wouldn’t have liked that?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t like it.”

Tom shrugs. “You got time, right?” Though before you can answer he slides back under the cover, uses his hands to steady your hips and dips his head low. God, if only you had more time.

The moment the elevator door opens and you step out into the crowded office space of the police station, you hear your name being called. You wish you weren’t the head detective on the, currently, biggest case pertaining to crime bosses. Just once you wish you could come to work and not have at least five people at a time want to ask you a question or pepper you with information you already have.

You kind of wish you weren’t the head detective for another reason, too, but that’s a minor detail. Actually, that might be the reason you need to be the head detective; way easier to steer an investigation when you’re leading it.

Nonetheless, you have no choice in which cases you lead or not. And that’s usually the reason why there’s three people cluttering your desk as you sit down. You’re not entirely sure that’s the reason today.

You plop down in your chair and stare up at the talking men in front of you. The three of them notice you quickly (after all, it was them that yelled your name) and the chatter dies out.

“I’m here half an hour early and I would love to know what made me skip my morning shower.” (It would have been morning shower sex, and you are a little very annoyed that you had to skip it.)

Your boss coughs, gaining your attention. “Briefing room. Five minutes.” The man looks slightly uncomfortable, but that’s not a big surprise. You’ve been told many times that you have that kind of face that makes people squirm; just something about you is, apparently, intimidating.

“Okay.”

And he walks away.

“You two doing at my desk then?” you ask your coworkers. The two men are your right and left hand in most cases, but this one especially. You wouldn’t even be half the way you are now if you didn’t have them. (Though how much that says, you’re not sure, because you really have nothing.)

“Well…,” starts Mackie. His hand goes up to scratch his neck. “...really we just naturally gravitate here.”

You squint at him, and divert your gaze to Evans (who you know is a shitty liar). Even though you’re not opening your mouth to say anything and he isn’t looking at you, you can see the big man trying to make himself smaller.

“We were gonna try and see if you’d left a hint to who you’re sleeping with,” he says, and despite the way he doesn’t meet your gaze, he says it so casually you’re actually taken aback.

“Excuse me?” You let out a huff, and shake your head. “My sex life is my sex life. You two” ―you point at both of them― “have no business with it.” You stand up from your chair and shake your head yet again. “And if you really think I’d leave evidence lying around, I gotta figure out how to let you know that’s not something I’d do.”

(And if you had, well, your career would for sure be over. If not worse.)

But with that out of the way, you make your way to the briefing room. Captain Cheadle, your boss, stands at the head of the table. In his hand, he holds a wireless presenter, and a few papers are scattered on the table in front of him. You take your place at the table, and as you do, your phone buzzes to signal a new message.

The captain gives you a shrug and that’s all the permission you need to fish your phone from your pocket and check the text.

[08.38] twh darling, you left something at your flat

[08.38] you you talking about yourself? that doesnt count

[08.39] twh that too but no, you left your keys

[08.39] you you doing anything today??

[08.39] twh you know i am, but i can get them to you

[08.40] you gtg but yes please or there are other solutions…

You let out a slight groan knowing you’ll have to figure out how to get your keys without actually meeting Tom. You can’t meet in public, and there are few places where you can meet without being discovered; there’s a reason you’re always at your apartment and never at his house. (well, you’ve been there once, but that was with work and it doesn’t count.)

Whatever his reply is to the latest text you sent, you don’t get to read (though you do feel the vibration on your thigh). Captain Cheadle has called for your attention, Mackie and Evans having seated themselves in the room as well, and you can’t do anything but pay attention to your boss.

“The tip we got is an inside tip.” The captain steps aside to let the projector show a photo of the biggest crime boss currently in New York City, Tom Hiddleston. As with every other photo he’s in, he’s wearing a fucking blue sweater. “The source is reliable, as we know of their work with Hiddleston, but we’re not sure if the tip is.”

He clicks to another photo, which is of the same man getting into a car. Only, he’s getting into the driver’s seat, something that is unusual for someone that has his own driver. “We can’t know if the tip is true or not, but we’re guessing there’s some truth to it.”

You roll your eyes slightly (not enough for the captain to notice). “Can you tell us what it is yet?”

Captain Cheadle nods. “There’s been a mystery woman in his life. None of his men know, but based on a lift in spirits and an increase in nights gone from his own house, they believe he has to be seeing someone. Rumor amidst his men, according to our tip, is that it's been going on for a few months.”

A knot tightens in your gut. A few months is a little less than correct, but yeah… It’s been six months since you started dating Tom Hiddleston. Off work, on a weekend, you met him in a bar, you got drunk and your mind didn’t work in any other way than tell you how hot he was and how good he made you feel. There was little persuasion needed for Tom to get you in a bed, naked, and screaming out his name. And so far, he’s managed to do it most nights since.

(The case had been assigned to you a month after your first encounter. You’d known his name well before you met him, but that hadn’t stopped you. And, even as his girlfriend, you had no evidence on him whatsoever.)

Yet, after six months of no one knowing anything, you’d been fairly certain you’d get away with it. At least until either one of you got enough of pretending. Tom has enough money for you to quit your job should it come to it, the only problem being that you don’t want to because you love your job.

“Did your source say anything about who the woman could be? Where to find her?” asks Evans.

You wait patiently for the reply. Your gut stirs with the thought that they’d know, that just your face (usually a poker-face no one could read no matter how much you panicked on the inside) would reveal you. But you aren’t revealing anything but being deep in thought, as you can feel Mackie’s eyes on you as your own flicker across the room and a frown has pronounced itself on your face.

“The tip was slight, but the source believes that there might be something to check at a bar. It’s one Hiddleston frequents, High Rise.”

Oh, if only the name didn’t chime with recognition at the back of your mind. There isn’t much to do but accept your fate and follow up on the lead, only try your best to avoid being recognized as the girl who left with Tom Hiddleston half a year ago. That could be rather easy, seeing as the bar was dark and you’d been wearing more make-up than usual and the dress you wore hadn’t stood out in any way, and it being six months ago.

You nod at captain Cheadle. “Anything else we should know?”

He nods slightly. “There came one more thing with the tip, but this wasn’t a written message.” He roams around his papers for something and eventually fishes out an evidence bag. Inside is an envelope and something small you can’t see from far away. He slides it across the table to you.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of what lies in the bag. The envelope easily recognizable as one you’d written yourself (though you’d used a typewriter―fancy―so there isn’t any handwriting to check), and the content a barely visible silver and gold wristband inscribed with a phrase Tom has whispered time and time again in your ear (the most intimate you’ve been outside of sex); my safe spot is with you in my arms.

Your fingers graze over it as you look at the inscription. “That’s pretty intimate,” you say, and an agreed murmur comes from your captain.

“You traced it?” asks Mackie.

“Untraceable. Paid in cash, no receipt, and might even have been done illegally.”

At least you know that that’s not true, and if they’d tried just a little bit harder, it wouldn’t be that hard.

“Fingerprints?” you ask, though not sure exactly where it comes from. (Or, well, it comes from the fact that you’ve touched the wristband on several occasions and that, unless wiped, there should be fingerprints all over it.)

You look up from the evidence bag to see captain Cheadle shake his head. “A few around the clasp, but none enough to make a full print, and any other we could find are only Hiddleston’s. The envelope’s the same”

“The question is whether Hiddleston sent it to someone or if someone sent it to him.” Evans motions for you to slide the evidence over to him, and you do.

“He’s the biggest crime lord in New York, he’s gotta be real smitten if he’d make that to send to someone.” Mackie shrugs, not sold on the idea that Tom Hiddleston, crime boss extreme, could be sappy enough to send it apparently.

Well, if only you knew what Tom would do for the one he loves, if only you knew.

“Well,” you say and clap your hands together, “seems we have more to do today than reports.”

A slight chuckle comes from the three men in the room with you.

“I want you, Mackie, with me on a trip down to High Rise. Captain, is it possible to talk to our source other than written communication?”

A nod.

“Then I want you, Evans, to have a little chat with Hiddleston’s ex-buddy. Let’s see if he doesn’t have more information, and if you can’t get much, try a little harder on the wristband. There’s gotta be something to look for there, maybe mention it to our source?”

“On it.” Evans gives you a thumbs up, grabs the evidence and walks out the door. You and Mackie move to do the same, and on your way there, you fish your phone out from your pocket.

[08.41] twh i’ll have to get back to you on that, but you can probably count me in have a good day, darling

[09.27] you sounds great but, on some not so good news, you got a snitch amidst you and i have smth that belongs to you in evidence

You don’t wait for a reply, certain he’s busy and also because Mackie is a nosy asshole and you’re not gonna get caught on a text message.

“You know where High Rise is?” asks Mackie as you make your way to your desk.

“GPS exists, but I have a hunch,” you say as you grab your jacket. Unfortunately, that hunch is more a hunch that your relationship is getting threatened by your work.

(“A hunch. Yeah, right, you’ve probably been there.”

“Careful what you say there, kiddo.”

“I’m older than you!”

“And yet, I’m driving.”)

[09.53] twh name? and what might that be?

[11.16] you i didnt get one but one of my guys is questioning him smth i bought you

[11.17] twh ill figure it out, and that has to be my wristband. how?

[11.17] you you tell me

Mackie nudges your arm with his elbow as you make it inside the bar. It’s mostly deserted, highly unlike the life that was there the last time you set foot in the place. A man sits in the booth in the back sipping what looks like whiskey based on the glass and the brown liquid inside. By the entrance, a woman and a man sit across each other at a table. Each of them have a beer, though only the man looks to have touched his, and the woman doesn’t look too happy with him.

However, you turn your attention to the bar, and the bartender behind the counter. Fortunately, he’s not the same one that was here when you were. Making your way over, you note the exits (the one you came in through, a backdoor in the kitchen, and―one you noted the first time you were there―the window in the ladies’ room). You also note the man sitting at the edge of the bar counter, back hunched over and an old fashioned placed in front of him. Untouched.

“How can I help you?” asks the man behind the counter. A bushy beard covers his chin, ruffled brown hair the top of his head, and tattoos cover his upper arm, visible where his t-shirt sleeve ends. In his hands he holds a cleaning towel and a glass, but as you sit down, he slings the towel over his shoulder and puts the glass down. “Guessing beer for you, sir, and maybe a scotch on the rocks for the lady?”

You shake your head, and roll your eyes at Mackie’s almost nod. You’re at work, you’re not gonna drink. “Sorry, mister, but we’re here on other business.” You pull out your badge and give him a peek.

The bartender’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t know. You could've fooled me.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Tom Hardy, co-owner of this shithole.”

“Shithole?” Mackie eyes the man.

“Can’t say there’s a lot of good going on in here, really. Nothin’ illegal, though.” Hardy winks at Mackie and you roll your eyes. The last thing you care about is the tiny illegal things going on at the bar. “What can I help you with? There’s not been any complaints, right?”

Mackie shakes his head. “Relax, man, it’s got nothing to do with you. We’re looking for information on a man, also named Tom, but with a different last name. Hiddleston, heard of him?”

The scoff Tom Hardy comes with is barely audible, but you catch it and cock your head to the side.

“Who hasn’t heard of Tom Hiddleston? Supposedly a big mafia boss, but the police has got nothing on him.”

“We got word he frequents this bar. That true?”

Hardy nods. “He’s by at least once a week, sometimes more.”

You try to drown the ache that falls over your heart knowing he still comes by. “You know what he’s here for?”

The bartender shrugs. “Don’t get into that shit, but I know he has a deal with my co-owner, Luke Evans.”

Mackie pulls out a pad and a pen and writes down the name. “Hiddleston ever leave here with a girl in the last few months?”

Hardy shakes his head. “Nah, leaves with the same men, though he has gotten different. Before he used to indulge a little more with the women, but now he seems to not want to. They want him, though.”

The ache fades a little at that. He’s loyal, he’s trustworthy, he’s yours. “Did he use to leave with girls before?” you ask.

“Dunno. He’s usually here when Luke works, only some shifts we got together.” Hardy shrugs. “Though the times I have been here, he’s never left with a girl. He’s followed some into the bathroom, but never left with one. Gotta be some special girl for him to leave with her.”

You suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, mister Hardy. Could you get us in touch with your co-owner? We wanna have a little chat with him, too.”

“He works tonight. Sorry, can’t give you anymore.” The man picks up a glass again. “But if we’re done here, you’re gonna have me excused. I have a job to do.”

“Thanks for the cooperation,” says Mackie and pushes away from the counter. “We might come back for more.”

You say a small goodbye as you follow after your coworker. On the way to the door, your eyes stray to the man in the back of the bar. Something about him seems off, and even more so when he holds up his glass and tips it your way with a slight hint of a ‘cheers’. The creepy smirk that places itself on his face sparks no comfort, and you let out a sigh as you walk through the door Mackie holds open for you.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Got a weird feeling from one of the dudes in the bar. Might be nothing, might be something.” You shake your head, slowly, as your thoughts whirr around in your head. “Doesn’t matter. If he’s here tonight, I might check into it, but it’s probably nothing.”

Mackie shrugs. “We didn’t really get that much here either, though. Hope Evans got better luck.”

“Yeah, gotta hope. But I have a feeling our source might’ve changed his mind on talking.” You open the car door and get in, Mackie following your lead. “I have a feeling Evans might not have been very lucky.”

“You thinkin’ we might end up with… homicide?”

You shrug. “Can’t be sure, but wouldn’t be surprising. Don’t believe we’re gonna be able to connect it to Hiddelston, though.” You start the engine and pull out on the road. “Don’t believe we’re gonna have any connection other than the guy’s snitching.”

“Good enough to talk to him.”

“Good enough to blow what we have if we do.”

The police station became a place of chaos in a matter of seconds. One moment, you’re talking to Evans on what he could find (the source had disappeared without a trace), and the next, it’s like the station is on fire.

Evans, Mackie and yourself are out of the loop. You lean against your desk, your coworkers leaning against the neighboring ones, and look at the chaos erupted around you. People run from one place to another, screaming for help or otherwise.

Then silence consumes the crowd as someone turns up the sound of the TV in the background. You turn to see the screen. On it, there’s a picture of a fire and countless dead bodies, burnt crisps until there is nothing recognizable left to see.

“In just a few minutes the house, that belongs to the infamous crime boss Tom Hiddleston, went up in flames. Whether the man himself was in the house or not, we do not know. Police have yet to arrive at the scene, and the firemen are doing their best to put out the blazing fire. So far, we have no witnesses and no way of knowing what caused it. We’ll be back soon with more updates.”

You lock eyes with Evans and Mackie.

“Our source was in that fire, wasn’t he?” Mackie makes a grimace, and then shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air. “You called it. You fucking called it.”

“I didn’t want to call it.” You shake your head. “And we’re not the force to go out there either, so we’re gonna need someone to talk to Hiddleston about this, about his source, without it being suspicious.”

Evans gets up from his place. “I’ll ask Sebastian.”

“That buddy of yours?” you ask.

“This is the kind of case he gets called out on.”

“Go ahe―”

“Y/L/N!” You’re cut off by the sound of your captain yelling your name. “You’re going out with the team. Take one of the boys. Don’t alert Hiddleston, but he’ll know why you’re there.”

“You got it, sir.” You turn to Mackie and Evans. “Looks like we got some luck after all. Which one of you wanna join me?”

When you pull up to the scene, the fire has been put out. But the fire that is the press and the countless people that’ve decided this is something they need to see live, that has yet to be handled.

You and Evans walk up to the police barricade tape and shove it aside. An office tries to stop you, but you easily walk past after a flash of your badge. The head officer on the case is easily recognizable where he commands what looks like some junior officers.

“What’s the deal?” you ask.

He turns to you, and there you find Evans’s and Mackie’s friend, Sebastian Stan. He smiles at the two of you. “Got five casualties, one critically hurt on his way to the hospital. Medics think his fate’s been sealed. Other than that the fire’s been put out, and the owner of the house arrived about five minutes ago.” Sebastian points to a male figure pacing up and down the sidewalk. “Don’t know if I’d wanna talk to him though.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “We haven’t got much choice.” You’re about to walk from the officer, but you have one last question. “You got any identities on who died?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, and so far it seems the fire was an accident. No fuel used of any kind, nothing weird about the source, and the six that were in the house weren’t close to it. Three of them were asleep.”

“Didn’t the house have a smoke alarm?” asks Evans.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Nope. And you’re not gonna believe what they, as of now, believe to be the source.”

“What?”

“A hair dryer. Wasn’t turned off.”

You frown. “A hair dryer? Nothing else? It’s a pretty big house. Seems like a long shot.”

Sebastian shrugs. “So far we’ve ruled out arson, and seeing how annoyed the owner is over there, safe to say he wasn’t planning on burning his house down.”

Don’t say that. He wouldn’t care, seeing as that isn’t the house he uses mostly―that’s just the public one.

Even Evans knows that, and you give him a look as you move away from Sebastian and towards said owner of the house.

“Hiddleston,” you say as you near him.

The man turns around. His expression is curious rather than angry, but something tugs at his lips as his gaze flickers over to Evans. “Miss Y/L/N, what do I owe the lovely pleasure?”

“Your house burned down. Five of your men dead, and a sixth one just holding on. We’re thinking he’ll die, too, medics said it was critical.” You shrug. “But you already knew that, right?”

Tom smiles, and takes a step closer to you. You have to hold out a hand to stop Evans from coming in between, knowing you have somewhat of a bodyguard in the man. “Darling.” Tom’s hand comes up to cup your cheek and you have to fight the urge to lean into his touch. “How could I know that? No one wants to tell me a bloody thing.” His voice changes fast at the last sentence, the annoyance creeping in.

“Did you set the fire?” asks Evans.

You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t mean to ask that. But we would like to know if there are any of your acquaintances missing?”

Tom nods. “There’s one I wanted to talk to. Name’s Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Haven’t been able to contact him since last night, and that’s unusual.”

“You think he was in the fire?”

The male shakes his head. “I don’t believe he was there at all, but I do believe he would do this. I got the impression he isn’t quite happy with me, or my decisions lately.”

He’s the snitch.

“We’ll let you know if he was in the fire.” You use your hand to push Tom’s hand away from your face, his touch lingering a little too long to be a play (but you weren’t going to complain.) “I have one other inquiry.”

“Go on.”

You take a deep breath before the words leave your mouth. He should be prepared, considering you told him what was in the evidence bag, but you can’t be sure. “Any girlfriends or women in your life we should know about?”

He smiles (god, that smile). “Other than you, love?”

Smooth. You can practically hear Evans roll his eyes behind you.

“Yes, other than me.”

“Then no. I have a far too busy life to deal with girlfriends,” he says, and winks, “though you shouldn’t hesitate to contact me.” Tom leans in close, his lips grazing your ear and his hand taking yours―something cold grazes your fingers. “I can give you a night you won’t forget.”

You don’t let the hitch in your breath show, and when he places a kiss to your cheek, you only stare at him as he pulls away (and let your hand find comfort in your jacket pocket where you let go of your keys).. “Don’t leave town, Mister Hiddleston.”

“I won’t, darling.”

And then you walk away together with Evans. He keeps glancing behind him, and the confusion is written on his face.

“Just ask,” you say as you reach the car.

Evans opens the door. “How are you not fazed by that?” he asks.

You get into the car and shrug. “Because I don’t let it. He thinks it’s fun to play with me because I don’t have a reaction―” (ehehe, yeah right) “―I think it’s fun to let him. Eventually, something has to slip and we’ll be able to catch him on the spot.”

“But you gotta allow yourself to be harassed to do so?”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t call it harassment, hon. I call it work.”

Evans frowns as you start the engine and pull out of the parking spot. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed? When it comes to sexual harassment, Tom Hiddleston is the least of my worries.”

It’s supposed to be a brief stop; get into your apartment, change into something that doesn’t drag attention at a bar on a Thursday night (probably not going to be too crowded anyways), and get out.

But when you walk in through the door, you see a pair of shoes kicked off in the entrance hall. A coat lies draped over your living-room armchair―a coat easily recognizable.

You hurry to close the door, and kick off your own shoes. The trail of clothes leads you further into the apartment. A dress shirt folded together and placed on the cupboard in your living room. Pants lie discarded on the floor in the doorway to your bedroom. And the man who it belongs to, you find tangled in your sheets, buck naked with the exception of the tie around his neck.

“What do you want?” you ask him, an amused smile plastered on your face as you shake your head.

Tom lifts his head a little. A smirk colors his face and he shrugs. “Thought I could surprise you a little, before I have to get going.” He checks the wristwatch on his arm (which you first now noticed he hasn’t taken off either). “But you’ve used quite a lot of time to get here, and now we barely have time for anything.”

You shake your head, smile gone. “Sorry, babe, but I haven’t got the time.”

“What? You have plans for the evening?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but it still slightly hurts seeing as you barely get out of the apartment when you get time off. Really, six months ago was a chance meeting unlike any other.

“I have work.” You move to open your wardrobe. “But if you want, you can help me figure out what to wear.” You turn your head to cast Tom a glance, eyebrow raised.

He turns a little, enough for the sheet that had covered him to fall off and leave him fully exposed. And with just the tie as a piece of clothing, you have to turn back around. God, what that man can do. You grit your teeth as you open the door and file through the few dresses you own, patiently waiting for his response.

“What is it for?” he asks, and his velvet smooth voice does nothing to ease the growing arousal in your gut, not with the image of him and that tie the only thing on your mind.

You swallow before you reply, but you don’t dare turn around. “Gotta talk to the owner of a bar, and don’t wanna drag attention with people there so we agreed to act less like police. Might have to have a drink or two.” You sigh, and close your eyes. “You should have waited with this until then.”

“What?” His voice is in your ear, warm breath fanning your neck. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “You don’t like it? You’re not enjoying it?” His hands find the hem of your shirt. Fingers graze up along your skin and you find yourself complying when he makes a move to drag it off.

“Tom,” you whisper. You lean into him, into the fingers tracing along your bra and the way his lips ghost over the skin on your shoulder, up your neck. “I don’t―” You shudder as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Ba― Babe, I don’t have―”

He tips your head back and his lips find yours. Barely touching, you close your eyes, and the image of Tom in bed and you using the tie to drag him to you has you swallow, almost succumbing to the pleasure you know you’ll get. His voice is low when he speaks. “Don’t have what?”

You don’t answer as your hand shoots up to press his head closer to yours, to push your lips together. Everything you can think about is him, your boyfriend, and in a matter of seconds your clothes are off as well, and you sink into the mattress as Tom throws you down on your bed. Your eyes open briefly, to see him study the contours of your body and, even as you do give into Tom and your desire, the haste is still on your mind.

With determination etched into you, you drag him to you with the tie and capture his lips in yours. There is no limit to what this man does to you, and there is no limit to what you let him.

With the already extra time you used with Tom, you didn’t have the time to shower. You’d tried your best to fix your hair and do something extra with your make-up, but Tom didn’t have it in him to let you dress and time was wasted.

Evans and Mackie pick you up outside your apartment complex in Evans’s car. As you approach, the two of them lean against it, deep in conversation. They barely notice you coming, but when they do, both give appreciative looks.

“Looking good,” says Mackie, eyes travelling up and down your body. Evans remains quiet, the way his eyes dance over you the only comment you get (and you have to admit, you’re not really complaining.)

You’d opted for something nice, but nothing too much. A skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee high boots with a thick heel, and a slightly revealing shirt. (You’d also opted for a thigh holster so that you could still bring your gun.

“You’re wearing that.” It’s more a statement than a question from the naked man resting on your bed.

You nod, and glance his way. “Problem?”

Tom’s eyes graze over you, hunger evident in them. “I would certainly like to take it off.”

You lift the hem of your skirt, revealing the thigh holster with your gun. “This too?”

“Yes, and right now.”)

In your hand, you have a clutch and you’re also wearing a coat to keep some warmth in the cool evening air. “Shall we go?” you ask.

And the two men both get off from where they’re leaning against the car. Mackie easily offers up the passenger’s seat to you, even though whenever it's him and Evans fighting over it, it’s first come first serve. You smile a thanks and then you’re on your way.

Evans parks a few blocks away from the bar (his expensive Audi with tinted windows certainly drags some attention), and you use the walk there to go through the course of action.

“Mackie’s the cop-cop. He’ll talk to Luke Evans, try something else. We try to talk to some of the people there. Whether that’s as a cop or not, I don’t really care. All we really need is a lead. If anyone sees any of Hiddleston’s associates, please alert the others.”

The two nod. “Sure, but before we go in there, you have to fix your hair.”

You raise your brow at Mackie. “Excuse me?”

“You got sex hair.” He gives you a ‘sorry’ smile and a shrug. “Like, we’re not judging you for having it, but if you’d told us you had a visitor we would’ve waited to come to give you more time.”

“Fuck.” You shake your head and stop. “One, help me fix my hair. Two, I wasn’t planning on it. I was ambushed.” Something that isn’t really that far fetched, it’s not like you knew Tom would be there when you came home.

Evans stops in front of you and asks with his face if he can help, and you nod. His hands move to brush a little through your hair, and fix a little on what probably stands out.

“How could you get ambushed?” asks Mackie.

You roll your eyes. “I got home, there were some clothes lying around, I followed the trail to a naked man in my bed and seeing as it’s the guy I’m currently seeing it wasn’t a bad sight. I tried to tell him I didn’t have the time, but he can be quite persuasive.”

As you talk, Evans tugs a little harshly on your hair and you let out a pained sound. He apologizes, but continues to try and fix your hair.

Mackie shrugs. “How long have you been seeing him?”

You shrug. “Few months.”

“How many months are a few?” asks Evans, his hands letting go of your hair and an approving smile on his face. He steps away to get Mackie’s blessing and the man nods affirmative.

“Uhh, six.”

Both Mackie and Evans stare wide-eyed at you.

“You’ve been dating a dude for six months and not told anyone?!” If you didn’t know better (and you’re not always sure you do), you’d think there was a layer of accusation in Mackie’s voice, but you don’t believe there is.

You shrug and begin to walk again. “What does it matter? It’s not like there’s a need to know about those things.”

“I thought we were friends.” Mackie shakes his head, a small friendly glare sent your way.

“What made you think that?” you ask, but the same friendly feel to your words as there was to his glare. “But can we let it go? I don’t want to talk about my private life.”

Evans nods. “We’re here anyways.”

And you sure are. You look up to see the blinking neon sign of the bar. The bass from the music drifts to where you stand by the door, and with a quick glance inside, you can see it’s fuller than you expected for there to be another work day of the week left. Though you do notice the age of the people; it's possible the college kids don't have class tomorrow, or don’t care.

The three of you make your way inside, gaining a few glances as you step in, but everyone quickly turns back to their own lives. You give a small sign to the two men you came with and move away from them.

It’s easy to step up to the bar, and you easily recognize the bartender as the one who was there when you met Tom. You’re guessing he’s Luke Evans, and you take a breath before you signal him for a drink. Hopefully, you won’t be recognized.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“A whiskey, thanks.”

He pushes away from the counter, and easily grabs a glass and a bottle and pours. When he puts it down in front of you, his gaze lingers. “Have I seen you before?”

You shake your head. “Has to be somewhere else than here in that case.”

“First time?”

You nod.

“Recommend not drinking a lot. We get some sleazy people in here.”

“I hear you also get crime bosses. This the place to meet the Tom Hiddleston?”

Luke chuckles. “Hon, if you want to meet Tom Hiddleston, I suggest you start being careful what you wish.” He nods to the back of the bar. “Best luck is sitting down in that reserved booth. It’s his usual.”

You cock your head. “He’s coming here today?”

The bartender nods.

“Ain’t I lucky,” you whisper and smile at him. You easily get away from the counter and make your way to the empty booth in the back.

Sure enough, a sign reading reserved is placed on the table. Who it’s reserved for doesn’t say, nor is there a time stamp. You make for sliding into it, but a hand grasps your wrist and pulls you away.

As you fall into the chest of the stranger, you turn your head. The man who you’d seen earlier today is the one holding you back. Up close, you notice bags under his eyes and he reeks of alcohol. You pull away from his grip and raise a brow his way.

“I wouldn’t sit down there if I were you,” he says, and slides into the same booth he had earlier.

“Why?”

He shakes his head. “Tom Hiddleston isn’t a man to mess with.”

“And how do you know so much about Tom Hiddleston?”

The man pats the seat next to him. “Sit and I’ll tell you.”

You hesitate, but eventually slide in. You leave room between yourself and the stranger. If anything were to happen, you do have a gun.

“You got any relation to Hiddleston?” you ask (you have to admit, no matter how much you want your boyfriend not to be caught, you wish you knew more about what he did do).

“Name’s Aaron.” The snitch.

You motion for him to go on.

“I was hired by him three months ago. He felt the cops were gaining and wanted something, or someone to try and put a stopper to it.”

“So, Tom Hiddleston hired you to snitch on the cops?” You want to laugh, seeing as you snitch enough for Tom to never know exactly what you know, but enough to cover his tracks.

Aaron shakes his head. “He hired me to snitch on a cop. A specific one.”

You frown, sure if he was hired to snitch on you you’d know and he would have recognized you. Perhaps he had.

“The cop’s here today.” Aaron’s gaze travels into the crowd of people in the bar. You see where he looks. Evans. “His name is Chris Evans.”

“Why did he want you to spy on him?”

Aaron shrugs. “He never said. And eventually, I got sick of it. The guy’s obviously not a threat to Hiddleston and his business. Y/N Y/L/N is, but it’s impossible to find out anything about her. Don’t even know what she looks like.”

You try not to let it show that you flinched at the mention of your own name. And you find it weird that he can’t find anything on you. Tom did so, easily. But there’s no need to dwell on that. You glance at Aaron again, unsure how to ask.

“You say you got sick of it. What did you do? Just stop doing his bidding, or something else?”

A smile colors Aaron’s face. “Snitched to the cops. Left a message. Anonymous, but I gave them a way to contact me for more information.” He shakes his head. “Got contacted today, but never replied. But I saw you here this morning, talking to the bartender.”

You cock your head. That could be an easy way to draw the connection to you as a cop, not necessarily as Y/N Y/L/N, but you had been seen with Mackie, and usually Mackie and Evans were seen with each other.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says. “One that means getting close to Hiddleston, and that includes spying on him. Mics, cameras, whatever. I need him in jail.”

“I’m gonna have to say no. I was just hoping for a night, a friend of mine told me he was real good in bed.” You shrug. “But if you have angered him, I got told by the bartender that Hiddleston comes in today.”

Aaron smiles. “You’ll have to excuse me, then. I hope you don’t anger him with only the intention of a one night stand. Based on how you look, I’m pretty sure you’re his type.” The male slides out of the booth, downs his drink in one go, and waves goodbye. You watch as he moves to the restrooms, and you roll your eyes when he winks.

[10.47] you snitch is alive, in the restrooms hiddlestons supposed to come in today

[10.48] evans no snitch in the restrooms, window’s open tho guessing it was the guy that slipped past me just now

[10.48] you guess so mackie u got anything from the bartender

[10.50] mackie that hiddlestons coming in that their deal is just renting of the venue from time to time

[10.50] you well just have to do the best of it then im sitting in his booth so if he comes hell notice

[10.51] evans sure thats a good idea??

[10.51] you would very much like to know why he put someone to spy on you evans snitch was hired to keep tabs, got annoyed he wasnt keeping tabs on me

[10.51] mackie dam i wanna know that too be careful

You look up and meet the gazes of your coworkers. Evans looks uncomfortable, worried almost, judging by the crease between his brows. Mackie gives you a look of understanding and a pair of thumbs up.

You down your drink, try to cover the hiss as pain sears down your throat, and make to sit down in Tom’s booth. On the way in, you knock over the reserved sign, making it fall to the floor. Now, it’ll look like you didn’t know.

[10.57] mackie Incoming

The front door opens slowly. Heads turn to look who comes through, and unlike when you arrived with Mackie and Evans, everyone’s eyes stay on the man who weaves his way through the crowd.

Tom stops by the bar, has a small chat with the bartender and turns his head to look your way. A smirk grazes his lips as your eyes lock, but he quickly turns back to the man he was talking to.

You swallow. You have to steady your beating heart, have to shove the thought of the night’s previous events to the back of your mind, and kill the deep swirling feeling in your gut at the sight of Tom in that blue fucking suit. God, if there was something Tom Hiddleston was made to do it’s wearing suits.

The blue color suits his very being. It’s tailored to fit him perfectly; long legs encased in blue fabric that shows off his bum, suit jacket that fits his shoulders and back in a way that has you swallow. You can see his broad shoulders and some of the tightness that drags at his muscled arms. What you can’t wait to see, is how well the shirt underneath fits him. You simply can’t wait for him to pull off the jacket.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wait very long. With two drinks in hand he makes his way up to where you sit. He doesn’t say anything as he places them on the table, nor does he say anything when he pulls up the reserved sign from where it lies on the floor. He places it back on the table, eyes you warily, and sides into the booth.

Long arms grasp for the drinks. He pulls them in and pushes one to you. “Can you drink, darling? You’re working, right?”

You take the glass and swirl the liquid around inside it. “I can, actually.” And you take a sip. “But I won’t drink a lot.”

Tom moves closer to you, knocking his thigh against yours. You take a deep breath at the touch, the only one you can return―Tom flirting with you whilst you work is no news, but it would be quite different if you did the same. “Have you been waiting long, darling?”

“No, I haven’t. I managed to preoccupy myself.”

“Oh, can I hear?”

You shake your head. “What good would you have of that?” you ask. When you get a shrug in return, you roll your eyes and take another sip of the whiskey. “I have a question for you, though.”

Tom cocks a brow.

“Why did you need someone to spy on Evans?”

Your heart beats fast as Tom moves even closer, lips coming up to ghost across your cheek. You can see that the two in the crowd of people keeping a close eye on you flinch, but you don’t make a gesture to show any discomfort. “Have you not noticed, love?”

You push him away by placing a hand on his chest. “Noticed what?” You try to pull your hand back but Tom places his over yours and keeps your touch on him. A small hint of the love he usually offers you shows through the blue of his eyes.

“The man likes you, darling. A little too much. Can’t have another man try anything with my woman.” Tom’s gaze flickers out to the crowd, and as you follow it, you see how it lands on Evans and how your coworker squirms. “Now, if only I could show him.”

“Tom,” you say, voice bordering on affectionate. His eyes flicker to you in surprise; he’s only ever been Hiddleston in public. “There’s nothing to worry about, and if you try anything, anything at all, you will have a gun to your head.”

Tom chuckles. “Are you threatening me?”

“You know where the gun is.” And the hand that travels up and under your skirt, grazing by the thigh holster, has you swallow. You take a deep breath as his hand travels a little further, and the only way to stop him is to grab his hand. “I didn’t say you could check.” You push at him a little, creating more distance between you two (even though you would like to sit close to him).

“I didn’t think I needed permission, love.” He smirks and you shake your head.

You smile innocently at him. “Usually you don’t.” You go to slide out of the booth. “Bye, Hiddleston.”

Tom grabs your arm and pulls you back to his chest. “Have you really made that big a dent in the case of the Blue Sweater?” he whispers in your ear. You writhe in his grasp, but a firm hand turns your head to him and his face draws closer to yours. “Tell me what I need to do to have the lead again, darling. I’ll do anything.”

And you can’t stop the sound of surprise that escapes you when Tom presses a chaste kiss to your lips. The surprise is so big you only stare wide-eyed at him, not able to kiss him back (and good is that seeing as you’re in public), and when he pulls back, you push away from him and shake your head.

“You’re an idiot,” you say (no teasing or play in your voice), and then you walk away. You rush out of the bar, feel Evans’s and Mackie’s eyes on you, and when you get out of the front door you lean against the wall. Your heart hammers in your chest. You’re panting, and you can feel the rush of adrenaline making its way through your body.

You may like to play with fire, letting him flirt and show affection in public, but you wouldn’t ever go this far. You wouldn’t ever think he’d even risk it.

“Are you okay?” comes a voice from next to you. Evans and Mackie have made it outside, and you push off the wall to start walking to the car.

“We’re not talking about it,” you say.

Neither of them make a move to say more, and you can hear them follow after you. Tom might be the worst person in history to be in a secret relationship with. Or maybe the best. You haven’t decided yet.

It’s no surprise to see the people surrounding your desk when you get to work. Your two usual pests sit at their own, and though not a part of the group waiting for you, they shoot you glances as you sit down.

You try not to glare at the group, but when they all just quietly stare at you, the anger bubbles. “What?” you ask.

A small murmur goes through them, until your impatient glare becomes too much and one voice squeaks out, “did Tom Hiddleston kiss you?”

He has more than once, you think.

You don’t reply, only giving them an unamused look in return. They quickly scatter, and you can hear the chatter that bubbles up amongst them.

Not only do you not have the patience for stupid pestering (and annoyance at Evans and Mackie for spreading the word), but your morning was the worst in a while. It’s almost become a usual for Tom to sleep over, whether because he falls asleep after sex or if he just wants to cuddle, but when you came home yesterday, there was no Tom.

And no Tom means no morning cuddles, or a goodbye kiss as you leave out the door. On top of that, he hasn’t texted either. No saying why he didn’t show. No explaining why he risked a kiss in public.

A text you did get in the morning, was a journalist asking for an interview. Especially interesting was the lack of respect for an ongoing investigation, and the bold way to ask whether or not you were secretly helping Tom not get caught (you want to know how they would even guess it. That’s a pretty bold assumption to make about the lead detective on a case).

Tired, you rest your elbow on the desk and lay your head in your hand. You massage your forehead slightly, and there’s no mistaking the groan that leaves your lips as your thoughts swirl.

A knock on your desk pulls you out of it. You look up to see Mackie leaning against it. “You okay?” he asks.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. We gotta talk about what information we got, though. But I don’t trust… I don’t want to talk out here, so, briefing room in five minutes. I don’t know if Evans heard, but make sure he did.”

Mackie scrunches his nose slightly and presses his lips together.

“What’s wrong?”

“Briefing room’s occupied.”

You curse under your breath and shake your head. “We got a meeting room, that occupied?”

Mackie shakes his head. “Not that I know.”

“We’ll meet there.” And as he gives you a thumbs up, you get up from your desk and move to the captain’s office. With a knock and a mumbled ‘come in’ you walk into the room and close the door behind you.

Cheadle looks up at you. “I heard what happened.”

You nod. “Yeah, but there’s something else I’m here about.”

He quirks a brow. “Oh? Important?”

You pull out your phone, ignore the new message you’ve gotten and find the text from the journalist. You hand the captain your phone. “Got this this morning. I want to know how they got my number, what made them think I’m colluding with the guy I’m trying to catch, and what the hell made them believe I’d ever talk to a news source about an open investigation.”

“That is weird.” Captain Cheadle hands you back your phone (just in time, too, because a message chimes in from twh). “When you have time, come back in here. I know you’re gonna talk to the guys now, but I’d like for it to be soon. And check if they haven’t gotten the same one.”

“Yes, sir.” You sigh and walk out again. You head for the meeting room and on your way you pull open your text thread with Tom.

[08.18] twh darling we need to talk i think i have some information you’d like to have

[08.23] you gonna talk about smth else too or just your problem??

[08.23] twh im sorry, darling, i got caught up in work we can talk about both tell me when you have time and ill show up at your flat

[08.23] you tonight, 8

The reply goes by you as you open the door to the meeting room. Evans and Mackie already sit down, Evans with papers in front of him and Mackie with his phone out on the table. You frown, but sit down across from them.

“I don’t know who wants to start.” You look between the two men, and when neither say anything, you shrug. “Guess I’ll go then.” You take a deep breath. “Our snitch’s name is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, the man Hiddleston mentioned yesterday when we questioned him about the fire. He isn’t dead because he was in the bar. He says he was hired a few months ago to keep tabs on Evans, but he got sick of it because, according to him, you’re not the threat. On the other hand, I am, but he didn’t know he was talking to me.”

“Did you find out why Hiddleston got him to spy on Evans?” asks Mackie.

You shake your head. “Hiddleston didn’t answer that. Snitch didn’t know himself, but he said he tried to keep tabs on me, too, only he couldn’t. He didn’t have anything to go on, no information, no way to know what I look like. And I find that interesting. Why would Hiddleston go out of his way to make sure they couldn’t do anything to make me a culprit or anything?”

“Maybe because Hiddleston has the biggest crush on you?” asks Evans, and there’s no mistaking the hint of spite in his voice as he says so. “Or, he finds you that big enough a threat he can’t have his guys going around doing stuff to hinder you because you’re smart enough to be able to connect it to him?”

“I hope the last,” you mumble. “But there was definitely something he wasn’t telling me. He seemed to know more than he let on, but I couldn’t push like I usually do because then he’d know. I want to see if we can contact him again, because he knew we tried yesterday without luck.”

“We’ll try, but I don’t think we’re gonna get much either.” Evans nods, and all three of you let out sighs.

You motion for them to start talking instead. Evans slides you a piece of paper. Not much is on it, but the words are clear. You look up at him.

“There were some regulars there that have witnessed Hiddleston many times. The man I talked to said that.” Evans coughs. “‘He’s always alone, at least when he sits, but he leaves with men. Never has a girl around him unless they come up to him, hasn’t had one in a long time. Only once did he leave with one. She was pretty, looked rather intimidating, actually. Don’t think it lasted.’ The man also went on to ramble about how after that, Hiddleston hasn’t been seen with a girl. Well, before you.”

“So he has left with a girl once.” Mackie confirms. “Luke Evans said the same thing. A pretty little thing that edged in on the man unlike no one he’d seen before, and that surprisingly got to leave with him. He’s never seen the woman again, and he found that odd. He doesn’t believe Hiddleston’s got someone in his life, though.”

You bite your lower lip. “Well, that is something. Any descriptions?”

Both shake their heads.

“There is one thing I noted, though,” says Mackie. “If Hiddleston does have someone he likes, is with, whatever. He so openly flirts with you that that woman has got to be furious, and he probably wouldn’t have kissed you either. I think the wristband was sent to him, not from him.”

You nod. “I believe you’re right there.” You know he’s right, but that’s details you’re not sharing. “But I have something more interesting.” You fish your phone out of your pocket (ignore the new messages from Tom) and open up the one you got this morning.

“What’s going on?” asks Evans as you place your phone in front of them on the table. They read over the text and cast eyes up to you. Something in the look both send, they’ve seen something similar before.

“Got it this morning.” You snatch your phone back, seeing the almost pop-up about a new text and not risking who it’s from. “I need to know who believes I’m colluding with the enemy.”

Mackie nods as he opens up his own phone and slides it across to you. “We got the same text, though slightly altered. They’re asking if we know anything about you colluding with Hiddleston.”

[06.53] unkown Hi, I’m a reporter from New York Times. I was wondering if there would be released more information pertaining to the Hiddleston case, and what you know about Hiddleston and Detective Y/L/N’s relationship to the man. I heard last night that they kissed, and maybe the reason you haven’t caught him yet is something entirely else than him being good at what he does.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. You slide Mackie’s phone back to him and let out a loud sigh.

Things are not looking very bright.

A/N: thats what i have. if you want to, reblog this with a continuation, but please dont steal any of this and act like it’s your own. i worked a lot on this when i still had motivaton but i wanted to at least share it even if i wont finish it, to which im deeply sorry

would always want to know what you guys think...

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #twh #thomas william hiddleston #reader insert #x reader #unfinished #tom hiddleston imagine #imagine

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Cruel Dreams (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Cruel Dreams Rating: PG-13 Length: 2800 Warnings: Angst Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set November 1991. Set directly after Stircrazy. Summary: Reader has a dream.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @beccaplaying @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex@ham4arrow��@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @u-wakatoshii @space-floozy@cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @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 @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110@katlikeme

Sometimes your dreams were cruel. Sometimes your dreams took you back to your childhood, to evenings spent hiding from your mother, summer days in the park with your father… Sometimes you even dreamed of Lance, which almost always filled you with a sense of regret, because you used him to fill a hole you knew he couldn’t fill. He fell for you and you were just passing the time.

But the worst dreams were the ones that were about Javier. Because those weren’t fragmented dreams of past follies — they were almost always dreams about what could have been. A better world than the one you lived in.

There had to be something wrong with you. You kept dreaming about him and it did nothing to help that deep sense of longing you felt for him.

“You asshole!” You shouted with a laugh as you swung open your apartment door, relieved to see him waiting on the other side for you. “You gave me a fucking heart attack.” You informed him as you hobbled forward, without hesitation, and threw your arms around him.

Javier hesitated for a split second, before he curled his arms around her, running his hand up and down the length of her back. “Hey, hobble horse.” He murmured, leaving her feeling warm all the way to her core.

“Oh, fuck you.” You laughed, punching him in the arm lightly, trying to shake these new feelings you felt.

“How are you feeling?” He questioned, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Better now,” You pulled back, grinning up at him. “Much better now.” It had been three days since you’d last spoken to him — he hadn’t called like he promised.

“Yeah?” Javier mirrored your grin, his gaze flickering to your lips for the briefest moment, before he shoved his hands into his leather jacket and stood awkwardly there in the hallway. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Come in,” You offered, grabbing ahold of his arm at his elbow, guiding him inside your apartment. “Sorry about the mess…” You scrunched up your nose as you gestured to the empty beer bottles and the take out boxes sitting on your kitchen counter.

“You got shot, baby… No one’s expecting you to clean your apartment for the likes of me.” Javier assured you, keeping a hand at your back as he helped you over to the sofa.

“Just don’t tell Steve… he’ll tell Connie that I’m drinking with my meds and…” You pushed your fingers through your unbrushed hair, “Well, I’m not taking the Percocet.”

Javier nodded his head understandingly, “You taking anything?”

“Ibuprofen.” You shrugged, adjusting the pillow on the coffee table as you lifted your leg and carefully placed it there. “It works well enough.”

“As long as you’re not in pain,” He said, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he sat down in the chair across from you. “So… how is it really?”

You laughed breathily, rubbing your hand over a spot above the bandage. “I’m miserable.” You admitted. “I miss work. I’m constantly tired, no matter how much sleep I get.”

Javier frowned, “When do you think you’ll be back in the office?”

“Probably after New Years.” You shrugged, rubbing at your forehead as you sank back against the sofa. “I’ve got some PT in a couple weeks. I’ll probably have a week or two of desk duty, but I’ll be back eventually.”

Javier scratched at the back of his neck, “Murphy’s great and all, but… The office fucking sucks without you.”

“I’m flattered,” You grinned. “I’m officially more important than Steve, but still not important enough to call.”

“Fuck.” He breathed out, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs, staring at a spot on the ground. “I know.”

“Three days and only Connie has called.” You informed him, shaking your head. After waking in the hospital with Javier there, you had stupidly convinced yourself that this had been the precipice of something else. That all these stupid feelings you harbored for him would come to a head… but that meant, he had to reciprocate them, and maybe he didn’t.

Javier dragged his fingers through his hair, exhaling heavily. “I haven’t got an excuse, baby. I know I fucked up.”

“Big time.” You retorted, pursing your lips. “You’re also too far away.” You gestured to where he was sitting. “Is my hair that bad?”

He arched a brow.

“I haven’t washed it since I got home,” You admitted with a grimace. “I’m sure there’s an aroma.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to get the bandaging wet and I only have a shower.” You shrugged. “I could do the kitchen sink trick, but my balance isn’t the best currently.”

Javier nodded his head, resting his palms against his knees as he stared across the room at you. His expression was unreadable, but it made a heat bloom in your lower belly that you were quick to tamp down.

It was a Friday night and he was with you.

“I could help.”

“Help me shower?” You snorted. “You’ve gotta buy me dinner before you get me naked, Javi. Sorry to break it to you.”

Javier’s eyes widened and he laughed nervously, “Your hair.” You caught the way his tongue darted out over his bottom lip, the way he shifted in his seat. “I could help you with your hair.”

Fuck.

You smiled warmly at him, “I’m gonna take you up on the offer. My hair is driving me crazy.”

He rose to his feet then, shucking off his leather jacket and tossing it into the seat of the chair. “Shampoo in the bathroom?”

You nodded, “The two-in-one.”

“You’re one of those people?” He snorted, giving you a look before he headed down the hallway to your bathroom. “I don’t know if I can be friends with a two-in-one user.” He remarked as he returned with the bottle and a towel draped over his shoulder.

You flipped him off, “I like the smell.”

Javier popped the lid open, sniffing it. “Smells like cherries.”

“Precisely.” You retorted as you peeled yourself up off the sofa, “And it’s cheap.”

He offered you his arm, letting you lean on him as you limped your way into the kitchen.

“Don’t get shot. It’s not pleasant.”

“I’ll try not to,” Javier chuckled humorlessly as he sat the bottle on the counter beside the sink. “It’s not pleasant seeing your partner bleed out either.” He sighed, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he glanced back at you.

You ran your hand from his forearm, up to his shoulder, “I can’t even imagine.” You whispered, letting your fingers stray higher so you could casually brush them against his cheek. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your quick thinking.”

Javier smiled a little, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Your lashes fluttered as you let your hand fall away from his face, turning towards the sink. “Try not to drown me.”

“I won’t.”

You reached out and turned the faucet on, holding your hand under the flow as you waited for it to get to the right temperature. “Thank you for this.”

“Whatever you need, baby.” He drawled out as you leaned forward beneath the water, gripping the edge of the sink to brace yourself, taking some of the weight off your leg.

Javier stood beside you, cupping his hand beneath the faucet to splash some water onto the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers playing through your hair, before he squirted some shampoo onto your head.

It felt like heaven. You should’ve prepared yourself for the sensation of Javier’s fingers playing through your hair, the way warmth fanned through every limb, making you ache in a distinct way.

A soft moan escaped you as he massaged his fingers into your scalp. It felt ridiculously good to be touched like that. You managed to stifle the sound — at least you hoped you had.

Javier worked his fingers through your hair, lathering it up before rinsing it clean. You mourned the loss of his touch the moment he shut off the faucet.

You leaned your weight against the edge of the counter as you lifted your head, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your hair. “Now I won’t be an offence to your senses.” You teased lightly as you turned to look at him.

Javier was painfully close to you — so close you could practically feel his breath on your skin. You exhaled shakily as you kept one hand gripping at the counter.

“Javi—“

“We—“

Your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. “Am I crazy Javier? I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…” You closed your eyes for a moment, “Humor me for a moment. Pretend I’m still drugged up, that I won’t remember any of this and just…” You met his intense gaze once more. “Is this all in my head?”

“You’re not crazy.”

You leaned in to him, “I thought I was going to die in your arms and… I was glad it was you.” You admitted, “And then you were there when I woke up and I felt like maybe something had changed.”

“Nothing’s changed.” Javier told you and he reached out to curl his hand around your hip as you shrank at that admission. “I’ve always felt this way about you.”

You inhaled shakily as you looked up at you, “This isn’t just because I almost…” You swallowed your words. Didn’t people feel something profound for the person who was there with them when they almost died?

Javier gave your hip a squeeze as he leaned in closer. His nose brushed against yours, lips so close to yours that you were certain he was going to finally kiss you.

How many times had you pictured kissing him? How many times had you dreamed of moments just like this?

“We shouldn’t.” Javier whispered, pressing his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “Work—“

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Screw work.” You tilted your head, letting your lips gingerly brush against his. It felt like sparks were tingling through your veins.

Javier canted his head to the side, his lips dragging over yours. Your arms slid over his shoulders as you rose up on your toes and sank into the moment.

He pulled you towards him, supporting your weight for you as he kissed you with a quiet desperation that made you wish your fucking leg wasn’t cramping up on you.

“Fuck—“ You tore your mouth away, grabbing at his shoulders for support. “I’ve been upright for too long.”

Javier stole another kiss, before he swept you into his arms, “I’ve got you, baby.”

You pressed your face against his shoulder and laughed as he carried you back into the family room, your wet hair dripping all over his shirt, turning the pink fabric red.

“You’re not going to run now, are you Javier?” You questioned as he helped you get comfortable on the sofa, propping your leg up on a pillow.

Javier hesitated, “Do you want me to stay?”

You gave him a look, “If you know what’s good for you, you should stay.” You patted the sofa beside you. “Please.”

Javier scratched at his jaw, hovering above you for a moment before he sank down onto the sofa beside you. “I don’t know how to do this.” He admitted, rubbing his hands together.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be in the office for the next two and a half months.” You remarked, scraping your teeth over your bottom lip as you studied him. “What do you want?

Javier cleared his throat, his eyes flickering towards you, “You.”

Your heart skipped a beat, “Good.”

“I don’t…” Javier sighed heavily as he reached out and curled his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb along the side of your hand. “You know I’m not a relationship type, baby.”

“Did I say anything about a relationship?” You arched a brow. “But I’m not going to keep pretending that I don’t have feelings for you.”

He squeezed your hand. “Yeah?”

You grinned at him, nodding your head. “I don’t need a relationship, but I think we should atleast see what’s here.” You gestured between you.

Javier’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, “I think I can do that.” He rubbed at the side of his neck, shifting on the sofa. “It’s why I didn't call. I didn’t know…” He looked away, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “I clammed up.”

“Well, no more clamming up.” You laughed softly, trying to mask a grimace of pain as you shifted yourself closer to him, turning your leg wrong. You turned towards him, brushing your fingers over his jaw as you nudged him to face you. “No one has to know.”

His eyes searched yours for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed you again. That first kiss hadn’t been a fluke, you felt like every nerve in your body was reacting to the feel of his lips against yours.

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, practically crawling into his hold — it was awkward and uncomfortable, but worth every second of it.

Javier reluctantly pulled away, breathing heavily as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You’re hurt.”

“I know.” You brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, grinning at him. “But if you only knew how long I’ve waited for this…”

“I bet I could guess.”

“Oh?” You snorted. “Try me.”

He gently dragged his knuckles over your cheek, meeting your gaze, “Records room… after you broke up with Lance.”

Your brows shot upwards, “Then why didn’t you kiss me?”

“We were at work… Steve was right there,” He shrugged a shoulder. “And you were sad and it felt like… I didn’t want to take advantage.”

You rolled your eyes, “You are a good man, Javier.” You told him, stealing one more kiss before you readjusted yourself so you could lay back against him. “I think you’re sitting on the remote.” You told him.

“Sure you don’t want me to leave and give you a call instead?” He teased as he fished the remote out from beneath him, turning the TV on. “What’s been on?”

“The Past Does Not Forgive has been on every night.” You told him, tilting your head to look back at him, “I’ve been dying to hear your thoughts on it.”

“Last time I checked in, I thought Esteban should cut his losses and get the hell out of that situation.” He curled his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You turned your head and kissed his cheek, “He’s a fool blinded by love.”

“Aren’t they all.” Javier murmured, nuzzling your shoulder. “This feels right.”

You rested your hand over his, sliding your fingers in between his. “I don’t know what took us so long…”

A phone started ringing, preventing Javier from responding to you. Jarring you awake.

Awake.

You groaned as you pulled yourself upright, your neck aching from the awkward position you’d been laying on the sofa.

You twisted around and grabbed the phone off the cradle, pressing it to your ear, “Hello?”

“Hey—“

“Javier.”

“Did I wake you?”

You grumbled, “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“You should sleep.”

“I’m awake now.” You snapped, squinting your eyes as you looked across the room and glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost midnight.”

Javier cleared his throat, “Yeah…”

“Asshole.” You huffed. “Did you have fun?”

“No.” He sighed, “Went for a drink and came back home.”

“At midnight.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You pinched at the bridge of your nose, “Nothing. I’m just jealous that I can’t go out.” In reality, you felt a spike of jealousy go through you that was centered around the idea of anyone else being the one to kiss Javier.

That dream had done a number on you.

“Are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, tucking the phone between your shoulder and ear. “Maybe.” You parroted back. “Can’t give me a definite?”

“I’m gonna try.”

“Alright.” You wished it didn’t come off so harshly, but the undercurrent of annoyance was there. Your stupid dream had left you wanting something you couldn’t have.

There was nothing you wanted more than to be curled up on your sofa with Javier. To spend the next few weeks recuperating with his arms around you. Stealing kisses, savoring moments, and having what you wanted.

You stuffed those emotions back into the box they belonged in.

“Sorry.” You offered gently.

“It’s all good, baby.” Javier murmured. “I’m here for you.”

You smiled to yourself, “I’m here for you too.” And maybe you wouldn’t always be, but at least you were right now.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For a writing prompt, Indruck post apocalyptic au (preferably everyone is human?) Indrid is infected by some sort of alien parasite, and the only way they can save him is to cut it out of him without anesthesia? Feel free to be as graphic as you want, but if it’s too whumpy for you, no pressure to write it! Thanks as always!

Here you go! It’s mid-level graphic: if it were a movie, you wouldn’t be seeing guts everywhere, but you would see the wounds. Also, content warning for body horror, namely the kind where a fungus takes over your body, and referenced suicide (no suicide actually occurs, don’t worry)

He should have seen it coming.

The tell-tale dampness and smell in the air, like battery acid and rotten milk, the fact that he’d made it the whole trip without seeing any Mycilioptera (that was, according to Joseph, the scientific term for the for the cat-sized, skittering alien creatures looking for someone to sting).

The creature was on him with a droning, high whine, scratching his face, smearing stinging mucus across his eyes and mouth. He made a rookie error, following his instinct to rip off the the substance dulling his senses, rather than feel sweep his arms over his body, locate the creature, and hurl it as far away as he could.

When the stinger hit his stomach, he screamed. The noise was useless; this quadrant of the city was abandoned months ago. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his sides as the pain seeps through them. His eyes cleared enough that he forced his fingers to work, grip the handle of his hatchet, and cleave it with a crunch.

Now, clutching the steering wheel of the Winnebago (in this world you do not need a fast car; you need something with thick sides and room for supplies and friends), he knows there are only two ways this can go.

If he is lucky, the parasite will be slow acting enough and he will stay lucid enough to reach the ranch in time for someone to remove it.

If he is unlucky, he will run out of time, and the parasite will take control of his body, manipulate him zombie-like to an advantageous location, and burst from his chest, mouth, and eyes in milky-white stalks, sending spores into the air, which will either grow in to adults or be inhaled by any other humans in a two mile radius, subjecting them to a prolonged version of Indrid’s fate.

He leans on the gas pedal, hurtling down the empty backroad. They found an abandoned, un-pilfered gas station and filled all the vehicles, with some left over for scouting and supply runs. And, if it came to it, an escape.

From the passenger seat, his backpack meows. A familiar black and brown head pokes out, the ratty collar still reading “Winnie.” Winnie, the reason he ran into that abandoned parking garage during a salvage mission in the first place.

Because she’s Duck’s cat, the one he thought he’d never see again after she fled out the door when the city evacuated. And Indrid loves Duck Newton more than anything in the world.

They’d been friends before everything went to hell, inching towards a confession of deeper feeling and Indrid still remembers the way his heart felt when he spotted Duck at the evac staging shelter. He hadn't even opened his mouth when Duck was hugging him, holding him tight and saying he was so fucking glad he was okay.

When three, then five, then ten infected humans burst in the evac center, Duck had Indrid’s hand they were running before almost anyone else knew what was happening, bandanas over their mouths because Josephs last message before the cell towers were overloaded was to keep their noses and mouths covered.

They made it, against all odds, out into the countryside, Thacker’s Quonset hut and Mama’s farmhouse as safe as they’d hoped. The others trickled in one by one or two by two; sometimes bringing other survivors with them. Other survivors found them later, though the humans they saw became fewer and fewer with each day.

Mama took in everyone who wasn’t infected, while Joseph, Dani, Duck and Thacker operated and sewed up the infected who could be saved (if removed before it takes over the host, the parasite will die when exposed to air). Those who could not were given choices; most chose a swift death, especially when they learned that dying before the parasites emerged would kill the alien inside them.

And every night, Indrid and Duck shared a small bed, clinging to each other and telling jokes or stories until they could sleep. Two months in, Duck kissed him in the dark and Indrid kissed back, and when Duck asked if it was only the end of the world driving Indrid’s affection, Indrid shook his head

“I’ve wanted this for awhile. And I don’t know what’s coming. All I know is I want to be with you when it does.”

At the front of the Winnebago Indrid wipes his eyes; what a foolish thing to say. He doesn’t want Duck here for this, that’s for damn sure, and yet he drives towards him anyway,

He’s feverish, sweat running down his face and arms shaking, and while his veins are still blue, he can see the parasite rippling under his skin; it’s not wasting any time.

He’s not going to make it. And if he tries, he’ll put all his friends in danger

There’s no choice but to pull to the side of the road a few miles from the farm and step from the trailer, leaving the door ajar so Winnie can escape into the wild. He’s crying all the while, breath coming in shaky gasps; just because he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable and terrified.

Indrid pulls out his pistol. He won’t be an incubator, he won’t spread this, he won’t help the things that took so much of his world from him.

He won’t ever see Duck again.

He sobs, once, then wretches as the fever grows and his vision goes spotty. He has to do this, even though every time he looks at the weapon his whole body shakes with fear.

“‘Drid!”

Duck’s voice, just audible over the thrum of an engine. Then tires screech into view, Aubrey piloting a jeep. Duck jumps to the ground before she’s even stopped.

“‘Drid, don’t you fuckin dare-”

“Nono, stay back!” He scrambles on his hands and heels, slamming into the side of the trailer, “I got stung, I already have a fever, I can feel it moving-”

Duck drops to his knees, lifting Indrid’s glasses.

“Your eyes are still brown. It ain’t too late.”

“But the veins near the wound are going white” Joseph stands behind Duck, “we won’t be able to get him back in time.”

“Th-that’s why I pulled over, I, I can’t get the rest of you infected, please, please just go-”

“You got the field kit?”

Aubrey tosses it to Duck.

“We can still save you, sugar. And I’m sure as hell gonna fuckin try.”

Duck and Joseph haul him to his feet and carry him inside, laying him on his back on the table. Aubrey follows him, sitting down on one bench and taking his hand.

“We got no anesthetic, so this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but you can do it. Okay?”

Indrid nods weakly.

“We’re gonna get you through this. You’re” fear flickers across Duck’s face, “you’re gonna be okay.”

Aubrey braces Indrid’s upper body, Joseph his lower, as Duck cleans around the puncture in his stomach and sterilizes his tools. Aubrey holds up a hand,

“We need something for your mouth, right?”

“Good call” Duck retrieves a wooden spoon from a drawer, setting it between Indrid’s teeth.

“Okay” Duck takes a deep breath, meets Indrids eyes, “okay. I’m gonna start cuttin. Ready?”

Indrid just manages a thumbs up.

It hurts, because a blade cutting into your skin will always hurt. And because it hurts Indrid screams.

“That’s good” Joseph is trying to sound reassuring, but even he looks worried, “scream if you need to, research suggests it helps with the pain.”

“It’s not too deep, thank fuckin christ.”

Indrid stares at the ceiling and yells when Duck widens the incision.

“Almost can see ‘im. Yeah, there, he’s startin to shrivel already from the air.”

Relief mingles with the pain in his tears. Aubrey pets his head, “you’re gonna be okay, see?”

“C’mere you, you fuckin monster, you fuckin think you can take him from me” Duck hisses, then says gruffly, “Joe, need you to hold it open, go wash your hands.”

Once Joe is in position, there’s a horrible, wet sound as Duck places his hand inside.

Searing, blinding pain as he pulls the parasite free, Indrid’s blood running down Duck’s arms. He bites the wooden handle and it cracks. The creature wrinkles and dies in Duck’s hands and he hurls it outside.

“Shit, shit you’re bleeding a lot. Okay, fuck, okay, that was the hard part, this is just stitches. Just stitches.”

Indrid whimpers, clinging to Aubrey’s hand and scraping his nails against the formica table. Duck hits too deep on a stitch and Indrid winces and cries as his boyfriend curses.

“Here, Duck, trade with me.” Joe holds out his hand and Duck passes him the needle. The shorter man settles by Indrid, taking his other hand. He’s still bloodstained, and Indrid can feel him shaking, but he brings Indrid’s knuckles to his mouth and kisses his knuckles again and again.

“I’m here, darlin, I’m here, I got you, it’s almost over.”

Indrid focuses on his voice, pretends they’re in bed together, counts the kisses on his hand and wrist while the pain fades to the background. Dimly, around kiss number thirty-five, he hears Joseph sigh in relief.

“Done.”

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

Indrid curls up under the covers, clothes sticking to him with sweat and his stomach throbbing with pain.

“Easy, sugar, easy” Duck sits up from a makeshift bed on the floor, “here, lemme get you some painkillers.” He comes back with a glass of water and two white pills. Indrid swallows them, lets Duck help him from his shirt and wipe the sweat away with a cloth.

“How did you know to come look for me?”

“Just had a feelin. I kept lookin out at the road, saw the ‘Bago weavin, goin a million miles an hour, and just knew somethin was wrong.”

“Thank you. For coming for me.”

“I always will. Thanks for not deckin me or kickin me while I was workin on you.”

“Duck you saved my life, kicking would be rather rude.”

It’s a weak goof, but Duck smiles and kisses him.

“Oh, uh, here, someone else wants to say thanks.”

“Mraoow?” Winnie stares at him from Duck’s arms.

“We scared her burstin into the trailer. Poked her head out right after you passed out. So you, uh, missed me bawlin like a baby seein her again.”

“Awwww” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, ruffling Winnie’s fluff.

“I mean, that and it hit me how close I came to losin you. Poor Aubrey was tryin to comfort me in the Jeep while Joe drove you back here in the ’Bago.”

Indrid strokes his cheek. He understands; the thought of never seeing Duck again was the worst thing to happen to him all day, sting included.

“Come to bed?”

“You sure? Might not be too comfortable.”

“I want to be held by you. I want to remember we’re both still here.”

Duck joins him under the blanket, Winnie curling up on their feet.

“Yeah, yeah we are. And I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too. And I promise to cut a parasite out of you if the need arises.”

“God I fuckin hope not.”

“Me too. There were...fewer of them this time. I think they may be dwindling.”

“Fingers crossed. But even if we got a long ways to go towards rebuildin a world, I still got you, and you still got me. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.”

Indrid kisses him, inhaling the smell of clean skin and scratching his cheek against Duck’s stubble.

“You’re right, my love. It is.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #taz amnesty #whump #reader requests #post apocalyptic au #body horror

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the-darklings · 4 years

Note

can i request for march blurb night in advance?? like a santi/v au where they meet after a few years of v being manager and santi being married (and expecting a kid)? im really curious about how the conversation would go down👀👀

—IN MY PLACE;

⤫ pairing: santino x reader!V

⤫ wc: 2.9k+

⤫ notes: BRO. For context, please read this first. Also, blast “In My Place” by Coldplay for extra feels.

“I’m afraid that I cannot—”

Your head snaps up, the pen in your hand stilling as you raise your head towards the door of your office. Charon’s voice is familiar to you but you rarely hear it anything other than soothing monotonous. The unease, the reluctance—those are not things that you hear often, if at all.

Has that dreadful individual arrived already?

No—no, Charon would have rang to inform you first. The Adjudicator is distant in their ruthless professionalism, but they won’t force their way into your office. They better not.

The door slams open and your fingers rest against the comforting weight of a sharpened blade, tensing. Your role now may be to keep order but very few do it as efficiently as you do. There is a reason why you have become such a renowned manager and it has little to do with kindness.

But—

Something clenches around your heart, your spine, dragging you years back at the sight of the face in front of you.

You haven’t seen him since—

Since Santino came to you personally after the news about his engagement broke—not since you told him face-to-face that the only way to keep his power was to follow through with it. Camorra council was getting antsy for heirs, for the security that comes with a continuous line of succession. He could not delay any further without risking an outright rebellion or attempts to take his power.

The power that’s been in his family since Camorra was founded centuries ago.

He hasn’t changed. Same hair, same irritated expression, same arrogant posture, same fancy suit.

Same intense eyes that latch onto you like he’s been starved for the sight of you.

You try to ignore the stab right into your heart at the glimpse of a golden wedding band around his finger.

You try to ignore the way he exhales slowly, like some invisible weight has dropped away from his shoulders now that he’s in front of you.

“My apologies, Miss,” Charon begins and you drag your eyes to your right hand, rising to your feet. “But I’m afraid Mr D’Antonio was rather…insistent on seeing you. I told him you were busy and unavailable—”

Santino’s lips part, his expression dark, but you speak before he can. “Don’t worry,” you reassure Charon, giving him a measured look. “This will not take long. Please continue with the preparations.”

A polite dismissal.

Charon hesitates. Behind his glasses, his dark eyes slide towards the Italian—one of the most powerful men in the world, now—and if you didn’t know any better you would say that Charon gives Santino D’Antonio a warning look before he nods at you.

He obeys without another word, closing the office door softly behind himself and all is silent.

You have no idea what to say to him. You told him that he should never see you again. That it would be for the best; a clean break. His presence here, now, is like a knife—a slow, dull, searing knife you could spend days twisting inside your heart. Always just a bit more, just a tiny bit longer; you would hold onto him till you can almost pretend that you’re both happy and free.

“(Name).”

He seems to choke on your name; exhale it from deep inside his chest, soft and loving and hungry. His eyes journey over your features and you see, feel, taste his longing for you in that simple gesture alone. In turn, you chain your own longing tighter. Chain that part of you that wants to do nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and—

I’ve missed your stupid, sleepy face.

“Congratulations,” you whisper gently instead, trying to keep the pain from your expression and voice by injecting coolness into your words. “It’s wonderful news. I hope it’s an easy pregnancy—”

“Don’t,” he snarls, his expression twisting with rage as he cuts the distance between you but you step back before he can touch you. “I am not here because of that. I’m—”

“Then why are you here, Santino?”

He exhales loudly, the frame of his body restless as it is tense. Upon closer inspection, you realise that you were wrong. He looks miserable. The bags under his eyes are so deep and dark, he looks at least ten years older. Like the cocky ease with which he’s always held himself has crumbled away into nothing.

“Why?” he breathes unsteadily, and tries to reach for you again but you pull back again, the back of your thighs almost brushing against your work desk. “Why won’t you let me touch you, amore? Let me. Let me.”

His voice is a wrecked whisper as he steps closer, leaning his face closer while his fingers come to cup your cheeks. He’s as frantic as he is hollowed out, unsteady, and you both exhale when your skin meets his. A shudder rolls across your limbs and you have to swallow down your own relief. You know him intimately; the heat of his palms, the tickle of his breath, the scent of his cologne and the security of his presence by your side.

For a moment you simply stand together, your foreheads almost touching, your breaths mingling. You breathe. Deep, haggard breaths. A part of you wonders if this is the first time in a year since either of you has been able to breathe properly.

“Mi manchi,” he exhales in the space between you, his voice thick, warped. His fingers trace over the curve of your jaw, breathless, and your palm settles against his chest and the thundering beat of his heart alone betrays him. “So much I can’t sleep at night. Every minute, hm, every minute of every day, you haunt me. Tell me—tell me I am not alone in this sickness. This longing. Please, amore.”

Your fingertips hover over the round curve of his cheek, his chin, and you only offer him a pained, “You’re not.”

You’ve been just as sick with longing for him as he’s been for you but—

He slams into you. The back of your legs crash against the desk but you don’t care because he’s kissing you and god—

It tears through you like a bolt of lightning, just like the first time you’ve kissed and all the times that followed. All those secret, stolen moments between you. The overwhelming heat that explodes through you every time.

His hands are cupping your face, his tongue eager and desperate as it refamiliarise itself with the taste of you and you lean into him too. Your nails scratch against his neck and he groans—that deep, rumbling sound—his hips pressing against yours and you can feel every inch of him. Every exhale and the heat and the taste of him—

You’re burning. You’re not drowning. You’re burning and you want to burn till there is nothing left of you at all. Till you’re both ash and can blow into the wind together, never to be controlled or dependant on the wills of others ever again.

Your fingers slip into his hair, and he caresses your cheek, jaw, neck. His other hand trails down your neck and the curve of your breast before settling against your waist, greedy and selfish. His movements are barely controlled—like he wants to rush but knows that he needs to savour this—and you grind yourself into him, making him hiss out a breath when you break apart for a second.

His self-control has snapped long ago, and his fingers snake around your thighs, coaxing and sensual, and your body knows his, so you obey. With his help, it takes only a tiny boost for you to settle on top of your desk. His slender fingers trace up your skin and your legs part for him, making all the room he might want or need. He slips between them easily, without hesitation; a dance and a play you have done a thousand times before. An effortless shifting and coiling of your limbs and—

And his lips are on your neck, the hollow of your throat, the cut of your collarbone. His burning fingers rest against the back of your neck and you sigh at the hotness of his mouth on your skin. Ravenous. His lips and tongue turn the blood in your veins into liquid flame as he explores. Your own fingers are in his hair again and that welcoming, warming heat in your lower stomach blooms—

“Ti amo così tanto.”

You crash back into reality.

And with it, you push him back so hard, he stumbles.

You get off the desk at once, smoothing your clothes as you gasp for breath, trying to not look at him.

“We can’t—” it sounds like you’re talking through a mouthful of crushed glass but ignore the weakness of your own heart. “We can’t do this anymore, Santino.”

“Why not?”

He barely sounds coherent, but you still don’t look in his direction. Because he has such a way of ripping those walls down. Ever since he’s found a way to do it, he can do it with a blink and you hate him for it. You have to be strong now, more than ever, and you resent the fact that it’s you that has to be strong for the two of you.

You douse the heat in your veins, the inferno in your heart that only he has ever managed to ignite to such a degree, and lift your head.

Santino is breathing so heavily, his shoulders are moving with his inhales and you ignore the wild look in those green eyes of his.

“Because you’re married,” you spit out, pained, forcing the words out even as they shred your heart into ribbons, leaving a gushing, bleeding mess behind. “Because you’re expecting a child. Because there are lines we can’t cross anymore. I’m not that kind of person. We—we can’t be together. It’s time to accept that. Let me go. For your own sake just—”

But he’s shaking his head, his fingers flexing, and he approaches you purposely. Fury deepens the line of his face, sets his jaw into a rigid line. “Never.”

“Please, Santino. You have a wife—”

“I don’t love her,” he snarls lowly, and stalks even closer, his eyes flashing. His gaze is merciless, almost cruel, as he murmurs his next words to you like a confession. “I will never love her. I can’t stand the sight of her, do you understand that, hm? She repels me in every way. On our wedding night, I imagined it was you.”

God, you don’t want to hear this. You can’t—

“Stop.”

Your plea goes unanswered as his digits settle on your forearms, and he stares at you imploringly, still effortlessly cruel.

“When I kissed her, I imagined that I was kissing you, tasting you,” he continues softly, and you shake your head, your eyes squeezing shut like you can block his words out if you don’t see the despondent look on his face. “When I fucked her, I imagined that it was you underneath me, amore mio. I imagined that it was love when I forced myself to touch her and make her feel good. And when I came it was with your name on my lips, not hers. How lucky for me that it only took once, no?”

“Stop,” you growl harshly, and shove him away from you again, your blood roaring in your ears. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear this. I—”

Your eyes burn as you turn your head away, trying to control the tsunami of emotion battering against your heart.

You don’t want to know about a woman—his wife—who exists in your place now.

Santino is silent, his expression drawn, empty.

It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Do you still love me?”

Your heart stops in your chest for a second, your throat closing up as your head jerks back towards him.

“You know that I do.”

But it doesn’t make a difference. How you feel never makes a goddamn difference. Life never allows you happiness—not really. It throws you scraps of something good before its torn away from you again and again.

Alone. Always so terribly, awfully alone.

“I don’t want to see you again,” you tell him quietly, and you feel your heart tear itself into tiny pieces. But it needs to be done. It needs to be. “And I forbid you from ever touching me again.”

He’s so still, he doesn’t look like he’s breathing. His expression frozen, his eyes wide, and lips parted in disbelief.

You place your hand against the back of your desk, gripping it so tightly your fingers ache. Something to anchor you to reality, something to help you ignore the lost look on his face, the bob of his throat as he forces himself to swallow.

“You have your new life, and I have mine,” you tell him, your words devoid of emotion. “We finally got what we both wanted. Power. Don’t you think we should stop ruining each other’s lives? We should both move on and be happy.”

His gaze is frantic.

“Don’t do this—”

A sharp knock interrupts him. Santino’s mouth snaps shut and you turn towards the door.

“Come in.”

The door swings open before you’re even done speaking and Charon’s guarded stare goes straight to Santino as he enters. The tall man regards the Italian coolly for a moment before his head tilts in your direction respectfully.

“Miss, the Adjudicator has arrived and wishes to see you at once.”

Santino is still staring at you, and every second of silence that stretches between you just leaves you colder and colder.

You both have power now. But there is a price to pay for everything as he’s always been so fond of reminding you.

Santino straightens, his chin tilting in that painfully familiar, proud manner and you almost crumble then. He empties his features of that longing and desire. Empties himself of everything till you’re left staring at the shell he projects.

“This is not happiness, amore,” he says, his voice tinted with resentment, and his hands slip into his pockets. “This is not—”

His eyes go to Charon and he looks up the silent man up and down before his eyes cut back to you.

“Lo sceglierò sempre te,” he states coldly, and you suck in a breath, gripping the table tighter. “Keep that mind, cara mia.”

With that, he turns around and stalks out of the office, taking your heart with him.

His footsteps disappear down the corridor and the silence left behind is so dreadful, you can’t bear to look at Charon.

Minutes drag, but you can’t seem to get rid of the burn in your eyes. You hiss an angry breath from behind your tightly clenched teeth, and press your palm over your eyes.

“Am I—”

The lump in your throat won’t let you speak, and you work to get rid of it for another few moments before you finally articulate your thoughts.

“Am I really that undeserving of happiness, Charon?” you wonder in a fragile, wet whisper. “First John, now Santino. Am I really that awful that I can never be h-happy?”

Crisp steps draw nearer and you lower your hand, staring at the floor. Charon pulls out a serviette from his pocket, offering it to you but you only shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“You more than deserve happiness, Miss,” he says quietly, almost kindly, and your watery stare raises to his face. “After all you have been through, it is not selfish to desire for such a thing.”

He puts the serviette back into his pocket and seems to hesitate. “Permission to speak freely, Miss?”

Your eyebrows knit. “Always.”

Charon sighs faintly, his head tilting slightly as he gives you a piercing look. “I do believe that if Sir were here, he would tell you to the hell with the rules. Go with your heart as they say.”

You chuckle weakly, glancing towards the floor before your eyes lift back to the man before you again. “Winston cared about rules above all else.”

Charon’s eyebrow arch into a pointed line. “I do believe, Miss, that it would not be presumptuous for me to say that he cared about you even more. This hotel has always been more than a job, more than a duty to him—it was Sir’s legacy and he entrusted it to you because he believed you could lead better than anyone. But not at the expense of your own happiness.”

Inhaling deeply, you clear your throat, pressing your fingertips against the corners of your eyes.

“Would you like me to contact Mr D’Antonio—”

“No.”

Charon’s expression slackens with surprise, and you give him a firm look.

“We have business to attend to,” you tell him resolutely, wiping your face of emotion, of vulnerability you showed him because you trust him just as Winston once did. “Like you said, we have a legacy to uphold. Let’s go and show that terrible, annoying Adjudicator what we’re made of.”

Charon stands taller, his posture ramrod straight, and he inclines his head with that cool professionalism. “Of course, Miss,” he says, but you see the sadness buried deep in that dark stare. “As you wish.”

Santino has his new family.

And you have yours.

It’s time to wake up and live in reality.

…

an: AS IF I WAS GONNA WAIT FOR A MONTH FOR THIS PAIN FEST. I would have written this sooner but this ask came through in the middle of my 48 hour COA 11 lockdown and then I had work. But maaaaaan. The pain of this AU………it hit differently. We are here to suffer and suffer only. Hope you “enjoyed” it!!!

#santino d'antonio x reader #santino d'antonio #john wick fic #john wick imagine #john wick #riccardo scamarcio #fanfiction #fic: children of ares #s: i can wait

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justauthoring · 4 years

Text

I Don’t Wanna Die Alone [Xavier Plympton]

Request(s): I would like to request a Xavier Plympton x reader kind of angsty. So for plot I would like of Xavier and the reader had a pre-established relationship and it's a healthy relationship. They get along well and genuinely love one another. I would like the reader to get killed or seriously hurt and for Xavier to find them. Xavier desperately trying to help but knowing there is nothing he can do. If the reader is just hurt maybe he can lay with them as they hear jingles walking towards them. Thanks!

can you do one with xavier where the reader hits her head badly trying to run and dies in xavier’s arms at camp redwood. idk if you’ve watched teen wolf or not but maybe like vibes from the scene where allison died. ???

Hi hello I would like to request an Xavier/Reader fic where Xavier witnesses reader’s death, and how that affects him when interacting with reader in the camp as ghosts. Relationship is your choice but my vote is on romantic :)

Requested by: @redama

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

Word Count: 1,974

Notes: ya’ll, as much as i will always love evan, seeing an edit of this dude is what made me wanna watch ahs in the first place and i feel so fucking satisfied to finally be able to write for him lol. i literally just finished 1984 and i cannot help but write right now even tho im sick and have work early in the morning. so appreciate my dedication here :)

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

It felt like your lungs were on fire. Your body was screaming at you to stop, but your mind kept reminding you of why you couldn’t -- because if you did, he’d find you and kill you.

You just had to have a shower; you couldn’t just listen to Margaret and wait until the morning. Or at least, accept Xavier’s offer to join you. That way you wouldn’t be alone right now, running from a crazed murderer. And Jesus, you barely had time to even get dressed. Your hair was a soaking wet mop on top of your head and all you had on was your shorts and bra; the fucking asshole didn’t even give you time to put on your shoes.

All you wanted was Xavier. Part of you, maybe you were going crazy, would be satisfied dying if it meant getting to die with Xavier. Not alone. If you were going to die, which it really felt like you were going to you, you didn’t want to do it alone.

You’d tried screaming, louder then you ever had before. Your throat was raw but it seemed no one could hear you; which sucked ass. You hadn’t thought you were that far from the cabins, but apparently you were farther then you thought because there was no one coming to save you. Absolutely no one. All you could count on was your years of track in High School and pray that got you far enough that you could at least find someone.

Or out run Mr. Jingles. That’d be great to. Find a place to hide, something.

Taking a sharp turn to the right, you hiss lightly at your arm scraping against a branch. It stings and you allow yourself a moment to glance down at the now bleeding scratch on your arm before pushing it to the back of your mind, focusing your attention on your steps and where to take them. The entire forest felt like a damned maze and you were clearly lost without any knowledge on how to get to either the road or back to Camp Redwood.

You were starting to feel like you were going crazy. Insane. Something of the like. Your heart was beating a mile per minute and your skin was clammy with sweat and you just wanted to sleep. You wanted to be in Xavier’s arms, laying comfortably against his chest while he held you close.

A sudden scream pulls you from your thoughts. It causes you to halt, coming to a sudden and sharp stop as you turn your head sharply over your shoulder. You expect to hear footsteps, another screaming, something but for a moment, it’s just silence. Complete and utter silence. All you can hear is your own rapid breath and the sound of the adrenaline pumping in your veins from the absolute terror running through your entire body.

And then, it’s just faint, you hear your name. Someone’s calling out for you.

“Y/N! Y/N! Where are you! Are you okay?”

That’s... That’s Xavier!

Eyes widening with hope, you feel your lips twitching into just the faintest of smiles, thinking that if anyone will be able to save you, it’ll be him. You move to turn, your lips parting to call out for Xavier in return. However, you don’t hear the approaching footsteps or notice the figure that falls to your left. You don’t, at least, until there’s a sharp pain in your left shoulder. Your lips part, a gasp falling past your lips as you start up into the face of none other then Mr. Jingles.

He rips the knife out of your shoulder, and you stumble back in response, your hand shakily raising to fall over the wound. You glance down briefly, watching the blood pool your skin, before turning back to Mr. Jingles.

“Please...” You breathe shakily, “don’t--!”

You never get to finish your stomach before he stabs you again; this time directly in your stomach. Your knees grow weak beneath you and as he mercilessly pulls the knife from you once more, you no longer have the strength to hold yourself up. You hit the ground with a thud, a whimper leaving your lips as your vision blurs.

Mr. Jingles crawls over you, knees on either side of you as he easily pushes your head to the side, revealing your ear to him. With a almost mocking gentleness he brushes your hair back, taking the top of your ear and slicing it right off. Somehow you have the strength to scream; it piercing the silence of the forest as Mr. Jingles simply stands up, with his price, and stalks off.

He just leaves you there.

It feels like hours, but can’t be more than a few moments, you just graveling on the ground, before another figure falls next to you. You assume it to be Mr. Jingles, coming to finish the job quicker then he’d originally intended and you don’t have the strength to fight or scream or even really cry. But then warm arms are pulling you into a lap and you blink, glancing up to meet Xavier’s piercing blue eyes staring back down at you.

Except, his eyes are flooded with welling tears as he gets a good look at you.

“X-Xavier...”

“Y/N... Oh, God... Oh, God, Y/N--!”

Shaking your head, your lips part to speak, but you find yourself choking on your own blood, it pooling around your mouth. Your body jerks in response, Xavier desperately attempting to apply pressure to your wounds but you know it’s useless.

You raise your hand, settling it over his own with a shaky determination. Your action pulls his eyes on you and with your eyes glossing over, you smile up at him. “I... I love you...”

Your body falls limp in his hands then.

“Y/N... Y/N, Y/N, wake up!” Xavier finds the words pouring from his lips, unable to think rationally as he desperately tries to shake you back awake. But, of course, nothing words. And eventually, he ends up just pulling you close, curling you up against him as a sob breaks past his lips.

Montana finds him moments later.

“Xavier, we have-- oh, shit, Y/N! No, no, no!”

Finally pulling his gaze up, Xavier meets Montana’s gaze through a blurred vision. “I was too late,” he whispers, voice a raspy imitation of how he normally sounds. “He got to her before I... I couldn’t save her...”

Montana’s lips part to say something, but she finds herself speechless. Her heart wrenches at the thought of you dead, given that the two of you had always been close, and she’s never quite seen Xavier so... helpless. She wants to say something to comfort him, but doesn’t know what. And seeing you, lifeless in his arms, hurts her just as much.

However, before she can dwell on it much longer, the sound of keys jingling echoes.

“Oh, fuck!” Montana curses, pushing herself up to her feet desperately and latching onto Xavier’s arm. “Come on, Xav. We got to go. We got to go!”

“No, no!” Xavier cries, holding onto your body tighter. “I’m not leaving her here.”

“We have to go!”

“I’m not leaving her here!”

“Look at me, look at me!” Grabbing Xavier tightly by the cheeks, Montana pulls his gaze sharply on her own. “Y/N wouldn’t want you to die like this, okay? She’d want you to live! She’d want you to survive. We both know it!” Breathless, Xavier stays silent, unable to argue with Montana. “So, we have to go!”

One glance down at you and Xavier knows she’s right.

Shakily, he eases his grip on you, setting you gently back on the ground and moving to stand up. However, before he does, he slips his jacket off, placing it over you as to cover you the best he can. “Okay,” he whispers, voice broken. “Let’s go.”

“You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.”

Xavier stays silent, back turned to you as he stares out blankly in front of him.

Sighing, you shake your head, daring to take another step forward. “We are stuck here for eternity, Xav.” You remind softly, continuing to walk forward more and more. You don’t stop until you’re directly behind Xavier, making sure he can’t run off like he has all times before. You’re desperate for him to finally face you. “You can’t just ignore me.”

“Why do you even want to talk to me in the first place?”

Jerking your head back in surprise -- at both the fact that this is the first time Xavier’s spoke to you since you’d woken up from death and his actual words -- you blink at the back of Xavier’s head. However, soon enough he’s spinning to face you, his eyes finally meeting your own as he shakes his head at you. You find yourself also surprised at the tears in his eyes.

Gathering yourself, you shake your head; “what’re you talking about?”

“You died!” He calls out, causing you to furrow your brows. Huffing, he clarifies himself; “you died because of me.”

Lips parting, you move to respond, but find yourself unable to. Is that what he thinks? That he killed you? He must’ve lost his damn mind because you know for a fact that it was Mr. Jingles who killed you. The fact that he actually blames himself... you feel your heart twist uncomfortably, shaking your head desperately as you reach out for Xavier. He only steps back from your touch causing your arms to fall by your side helplessly.

“Is that what you think?” You whisper, never tearing your gaze off his own. “Xav, you didn’t kill me... Mr. Jingles did.”

“I let you go off on your own! I... wasn’t quick enough!” Inhaling sharply, Xavier wipes at his cheeks desperately, trying to hide the tears that profusely fall down his cheeks. Then, he gathers himself enough to utter one last sentence, a broken whisper. “I didn’t protect you.”

You step forward, reaching out for Xavier. This time he doesn’t pull away, shoulders slumping as your hands move to cup his cheeks, shaking your head repeatedly. “You did protect me,” you whisper, “you always did. And I didn’t die because of you. I died because of some pathetic man. I ran off to have a shower, I didn’t let you come with me... So, please,” letting your thumb stroke his cheek softly, you smile up at him. “Just... kiss me.”

Xavier’s resolve slowly falls with each word. By the end of it, his tears have halted and he finds himself stunned by your forgiveness. He finds his hands reaching out for you, desperate for your touch as his hands fall on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“You want me to kiss you?”

“I’ve never wanted you to kiss me more than I have now.”

A smirk crawls onto his lips and slowly but surely, Xavier leans down, pressing his lips against your own. The kiss is short, chaste, but it means everything to you. Able to hold Xavier like this again means everything to you. Your arch into his touch, your hand sliding up the back of his neck as you moan into the kiss, Xavier returning it with just as much ferocity.

It’s been so long since you’ve been able to kiss him like this.

Pulling back, Xavier leans his forehead against your own, breathless. “I’ve missed you...”

“Well,” you smile lightly, leaning back to meet his gaze. “Like I said, we have all of eternity here... You’ll never have to miss me again.”

Xavier’s faint smile turns into a grin.

“I like the sound of that.”

Let me know what you thought?

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meetthemoosemonster · 4 years

Text

Glowing Eyes and Shimmering Scales

Introducing: Layla, Sam, Lonna, Jay, and a fuck ton of other side characters, places, and organizations that i didnt really explain, but im to lazy to write something that will explain everything, which will become relevant in the future! Maybe! If I summon the will to write!

also, sorry that I don't post consistently at all, but I hope you enjoy the writing, under the cut.

This is probably going to be a part one for a certain chain of events, and then ill disapear for months agian, so sorry ahead of time, lol.

Tw: abusive parents, torture, emotional breakdowns

Layla's wings flapped as she landed on the training area platform, and saw the instructor stride up to her, looking concerned.

“Layla, you have to leave. Your father is coming, and what he's bringing is not suitable for you to see.”

“Come on Lonna, can’t I stay? I'm going to be of age soon, I need to know what Kron is dealing with.”

“May i remind you that you are not of age yet, and the king still has control over you. Please go back to the cave, its safer there.” Lonna pleaded, fear lighting up her eyes.

“Ok, fine.” Layla grumbled, and started to shift into a dragon in order to get across the castle quickly. But just as she started to flap her wings, a thud was heard behind her, followed by shouts and faint whimpers. Which sounded familiar. Layla turned around to look back at the platform, and saw Sam laying on the ground, shackled, bleeding and shaking violently as the guards sent shocks through his body with wires attached to his temples. Next to him, her father stood, glaring at the child on the ground.

“S-Sam?” Layla could barely breathe, stopped in her tracks as she saw what was happening to Sam only a few feet away. Lonna started to push Layla away, trying to get her to leave, but the king looked up anyway.

“Layla? What in the hell are you doing here?” Laylas fathers voice boomed as he advanced upon Lonna and Layla. “I told you to make sure she wasn't here? You will regret this.”

“O-ok your highness, I'm sorry, I should have-” Lonna stuttered, shaking in fear.

“Dad? What the hell is happening? What are you doing to Sam? Is this why you never tell me shit? Because you're torturing him? Is this-” Layla was cut off by the kings tail slapping her across her face. The tip of his tail scratched at the skin around her eye, leaving blood to trickle down her cheek. She could hear Lonna gasp as the sound of the slap echoed around the training platforms walls.

“Don't speak of things you'll never understand.” the king growled. Layla just stared at him in shock, holding her cheek. He turned to Lonna, who was trying to not glare at him “Why is she still here? I thought I told you to make sure she was long gone.”

“Oh! U-um, I'm- I'm sorry your highness. She came late, and I didn't have time to make sure she had left before you got here.” At the shaky words of Lonna, the king turned to his daughter. “And why were you late?”

“I-I,” Layla was shaking. She was still clutching her cheek and eye, her mind reeling. She knew that her dad had just hit her. She never thought he would go that far. She started thinking about the time that Jay had come back to the cave with a swollen cheek. Anger flared in her chest, her fists tightened, and her skin turned scaly. Her nails grew longer and sharper and cut into her palms. “Did you hit Jay too? How much do I not know about you? And what the HELL are you doing to Sam?” Layla was still shaking, but now she was angry.

“He is a prisoner, and he is treated accordingly. You have no business questioning my authority.” The King returned her glare, then snarled. “You need to leave. Lonna, Make sure she goes to the cave, and doesn't leave. We will talk about this later. Remember, you aren't queen yet Layla. Not for a long time. If I have to correct you all the time, there will be consequences.” Layla started shaking from fear at the word ‘consequences’. Lonna grabbed Layla's arm, and started to pull her away. Layla looked back at her dad as he turned around and advanced on Sam. Sam looked over at Layla in the midst of his pain, and they locked eyes. Layla tried to give Sam a look, hoping Sam would understand what she meant. Sam nodded everso slightly before being shocked back into the torture. Lonna made sure Layla was turned around before she could see Sam again, and they both jumped off the cliff, transforming into their dragon forms in midair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they reached the cave where Layla, and her little sister, Jay lived, Layla turned back to her human form right before she landed, and Lonna shook her head at the young girl. Usually Layla would have done a flip, or rolled her eyes at Lonnas disapproval, but her eyes were still red, tears ready to fall from her eyes. Once she noticed Lonna looking concerned at her, Layla wiped the tears and blood away, and shook her head, trying to return to normal.

“Oh honey,” Lonna said, and hugged Layla. “I'm so sorry you had to see that. You are ok, right? He didn't hurt you too bad?” Layla remembered her cheek and eye, and felt it throbbing again.

“Oh, I guess I forgot. I’m ok Lonna, I swear, stop worrying about everything, god.” Layla tried to cover up her choked voice with teenage annoyance. But Lonna saw right through it.

“Come on honey, let's get you inside, and take a look at your cheek.” The two of them walked into the cave, and Lonna had Layla sit down on the couch in her room. She started to take care of the swollen skin, grabbing a box of magical ointments from the kitchen. Lonna started to hum childrens songs about ghost stories and dragon legends and such and Layla started to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. But then she heard her sister land on the ledge, and run through the door.

“You won't believe what Mica got me!” Jay ran into Laylas room, a wide smile across her face, but it faded when she saw Layla. Layla sat up. “Oh no, are you ok?”

“Yeah, im ok Jay, dont worry about it, training just got a little too aggressive today, that's all.” Jay gave her a weird look.

“Ok, if you say so. Anyway, look at the necklace Mica got me!”

“OoooOh, so Micas giving you necklaces now. It's almost like your, um, DATING?” Layla fake gasped, and started laughing with Jay. Lonna smiled, but then got serious.

“Jay, you have to be careful, you know your dad doesn't want you dating a citizen, much less Mica.”

“I Know, he wont find out, it's all good. Please, just let me have this Lonna?” Lonna nodded, but still looked worried. Jay continued to talk about her day with Mica, and after a while, layla zoned out, and began making a list in her head of the things she would need, and her plan to get Sam out, and FAR away. Shed never really liked him, but she couldn’t let him suffer like that, not now that she knew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Layla was packing her bag, going through the list she had come up with earlier.

“Ok, i've got a change of clothes for me, and for Sam, warmer clothes for when it gets cold at night, the straps and blankets for my back that sam can stay on, blankets for when we sleep, enough food for 2 weeks, a water filter, some matches for Sam, and a map. I think that's everything-” Layla stopped when she heard Lonna in the doorway. She threw the bag under her bed quickly, then looked up to see that Lonna had been there the entire time.

“Don't worry, i won't tell your dad, or anyone else, i promise.” Lonna said before Layla could even open her mouth. “Take it from someone with a history of running away, don't expect that anything will go as planned, make sure you have something from the people you're leaving behind.” Lonna threw a necklace over to Layla, who caught it, then turned it over in her hand. “It's a scale from each person in your family. Jay, Me, Mica, Nao, your mom, and your dad. And one of your scales too. I thought you might want to have something to have from us when you're gone.”

“No, I can't take this, I'll be back right away, I just need to get Sam out, I'll be back before they even realize what happened, so you should keep it.” Layla held out the necklace for Lonna to take, but she just shook her head.

“Even so, keep it. I made it for you. regardless of whether you leave or not, I want you to have it.” Lonna smiled sadly at Layla. Layla looked down at the necklace as the six scales shimmered and clinked together.

“Ok, I guess I’ll keep it, but I'll be right back, seriously.”

“Ok honey, just be safe for me, ok? Promise me that you'll be safe. And give me a hug before you go.” Layla nodded, and hugged Lonna tight.

“I promise, I'll be safe. And thank you Lonna, thank you for everything.” Layla felt Lonna nod, and tighten her grip before finally releasing.

“Is there anything you want me to tell Jay? Just in case I mean?”

“Um, I actually wrote her a note already. Can you give it to her if i don't come back?”

“Of course honey, I'll give it to her.” Layla handed the folded up piece of paper to lonna, and then clasped the necklace around her neck.

“I'm going to go hang out with Jay now, bye, I love-” Layla stopped herself, but then noticed that Lonnas eyes were tearing up, and she was looking at her so tenderly. “Um, I love you Lonna. Thank you for basically being me and Jay's mom when Mom died. And sorry for all the times I messed up, I know I'm kinda a lot.”

“Oh baby, you're not a lot, it's an honor to be your step in mom for you and Jay. I love you too honey, come here.” Lonna hugged Layla again, and Layla hugged back. They stayed like that for a while, then Lonna let go, and wiped the tears off her face. “Ok, go say bye to your sister kiddo, and remember, i love you.” Lonna walked out of the room and went to the kitchen.

Layla took a deep breath before going into her sisters room. She listened to Jay talk about the karaoke date that she was planning for her and Mica for their anniversary, the big test she had coming up next week, and her concert.

“Hey, you'll be there, right? Dad obviously doesn't want to go, you know how he is with that stuff, it's next weekend, and you don't have training that day, so you'll be there?” Jay looked at Layla. Layla's breath caught, and her heart dropped down to her stomach.

“Oh,...um, yeah, i'll be there.” Layla tried to remind herself that she would be back before the concert, she would be right back. There was no reason to worry.

“Awesome! We sound really cool, we've been working on this set for a couple months now, it's not easy AT ALL.”Jay looked over to see her sister looking like she would throw up. “Hey, you sure you're ok? You've been acting weird ever since you got home, and so has Lonna.”

“Oh, it's ok Jay, I'm fine, just tired, long day, you know how it is.” Layla yawned, trying to act tired.

“...Ok, if you say so, but somethings up, I know it. You don't have to tell me, but somethings up.” Jay hugged Layla. “Hey, whatever is happening, please just be careful, you know how dad is.”

Layla chuckled. “Yeah, I know, don’t worry about it.” Layla hugged Jay back. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Yeah. I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually Jay had fallen asleep in Layla's arms, and Lonna came and stood in the doorway and whispered, “You should go now, I'll make sure she's safe.” Layla nodded, and gently moved her little sister off of her, and under the blankets. She kissed Jay's head, hugged Lonna again, and slung the straps with the bags and blankets attached across her body. Once she was outside she took a deep breath and then jumped silently off the ledge, wings sprouting from her back, scales raising across her skin, claws growing from her fingers, and her tail slicing through the air. She felt the straps slide into place as she turned. She began gliding silently toward the dungeons, hoping that Sam had used Sight to see the plan she had written down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the dungeon Sam was shivering in the corner. He dug his fingernails into his palms hard, and his eyes began to glow white as a vision triggered.

The wind was roaring past his head, and he heard the flapping of wings. Panicked he looked around, expecting to see the king. Instead he saw the mountains in the distance, and bursts of light coming from Layla's mouth as she breathed fire for warmth. He noticed he was sitting on the dragons back, on top of blankets, and surrounded by a couple bags of supplies. He looked behind him, and saw the Gorge and castle falling away behind them as the distance grew. Sam started to turn back around, but his vision flared white, then black.

Sam returned to the dark, damp cell, his heart beating fast.

“It's ok, you're ok, you're getting out.” Sam whispered to himself trying to calm down after the vision. He would panic after even good visions because of how defenseless he was after them. “At least I was able to control it today. I didn't See until I wanted to, which is progress.”

“Yes, it is” Sam jumped when he heard someone else whisper next to him. A burst of orange fire sparked near his head, illuminating the cell with dim light for a second before it died out. Sam saw Layla's face before the light faded.

“Oh, Layla, you scared the shit outta me. Are we going now?”

“Yeah, come on, the guards are sleeping, but now for long, we have to go right now.”

“Ok, cool.” Once they had escaped the dungeons, Layla turned back into a dragon, and Sam climbed on her back and sat down on the blankets.

“I packed you some new clothes in the green bag, and some food and water that you can eat, cause I bet you're hungry.” Layla growled to the best of her ability in dragon form.

“Oh, you think?” Sam immediately started rifling through the bag, pulling out the clothes, and a container of food. “Thanks dude, I owe you one.” Layla just snorted, and took off, causing Sam to get jolted back, and nearly drop the clothes and food. “Hey! Warn a person, for the love of Sight Layla.” Sam changed into the new clothes, ate a sandwich, and drank some water. He saw his vision carry out in real life, and breathed a sigh of relief. Eventually he patted Layla's neck, then tied himself down so he wouldn't fall off, and went to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a long day of flying non stop, avoiding all towns and traces of dragons as to not be seen, Layla eventually reached the forest that bordered Kron and Verlorn. She landed in the forest, and let Sam get off her back before she transformed back to human form.

“Hey, Sam, we're going to rest here for a bit, then you can go off on your own to Verlorn and meet up with the travelers there, they should be able to help you. I'll see you to the border, then make my way back to the Gorge. It'll only be two days, so hopefully my dad will think that i just needed a break and went to the woods for a bit.” Layla started to take off the straps and bags, and started to set up a little lean-to for her to sleep under for a bit.

“Wait, hold up dude.” Sam was looking at Layla, concern etched across his face. ‘Your telling me that you think you can go back? He hit you! And he’ll do it again. You can't go back, it's so obvious that you got me out, if you go back, you'll be killed, 100 percent.” Layla looked at Sam, starting to panic. “Even Lonna told me to make sure you make it to the Resistance base in Verlorn, she said that you had to get out and stop your dad? You didn't know?”

“L-Lonna? But- But she wouldn't do that. She couldn't.” Layla was hyperventilating. She looked down at her necklace, and grabbed lonnas scale remembering what lonna had said to her before she left. “Is that why?”

“I'll take that as a no…”

“I-...I have to go back, i have to go back, right now. He- he wouldn’t hurt me again, he cares. Yeah, he gets angry sometimes, but that-” Layla's eyes filled with tears, and she felt like she was being punched in the gut.

“And I thought I had issues, my god. Dude, he doesn't care about you, he's kinda evil if you didn't notice? How do you not see that?” Layla didn't even look at him, but her breathing got more rapid.

”I have to go back, I want to go back. I can't leave him, I can't leave them.” Layla was full out sobbing now, hunched over as if her stomach hurt, and to be honest, it did. “Oh no, Jay, i cant- i cant- I have to go back, i can't leave her, i promised her, I PROMISED HER. I can't just leave. Oh my god, no, nononononono. I have to go back, i have to go back now.” Layla forced herself to stand up straight, and began to walk toward a clearing so she could fly back. Sam ran in front of her, and grabbed her arms.

“You can't go, he’ll kill you Layla. We have to find my brother, then we’ll be safe.” Layla started to push past him, still sobbing, but he wrapped his arms around her. Almost immediately Layla sunk to the ground, sobbing and screaming.

“I have to go back, i have to, i should have never left, it wasnt supposed to go like this, this wasnt the plan, THIS WASNT THE FUCKING PLAN.”

“I know, but you can't go back.” Sam looked around, unsure how to deal with the situation. “Layla, do you trust Lonna? She seemed to care about you alot, she wouldn't let you do something that she didn't think you needed to do.” Layla was still sobbing on the ground, whispering ‘i have to go back’ under her breath over and over again. Eventually she nodded a little, but then closed her eyes. Sam held her for a while, before getting her to move under the lean-to, and wrapped her in a blanket. Layla drifted off to sleep, exhausted, and Sam just stood watch, occasionally looking over at Layla, worried, and confused at her response.

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