#he NEEDED to let go of all his 'what ifs' and learn to live with 'what is'

[lisbonsteresa]

oh god

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - warning: postpartum depression requested by multiple: mama's family

"Where's my baby?!"

You can practically hear your teeth grinding together as you give your aunt a tight lipped smile. "He's due to get up any minute." She sighs, like it's an inconvenience, your mom hot on her heels.

"Hi honey," she says, glancing around your now pristine flat, "how are things?"

"Oh, fine." It's the same thing you've been saying this whole time. I'm fine. I'm good. Everything is great. "Went to the pediatrician the other day, Ry is perfect and healthy." You omit the rest of your news, the sudden reappearance of Simon, the stable, consistent presence in your life, the man who was supporting you in anyway he could.

Even though you absolutely do not want your mom or your aunt to meet him, let alone know about him-

you still kind of wish he was here.

He told you yesterday, regretfully, that he had meetings on base all day today, and you told him your mom and aunt were coming by, but probably wouldn't stay long. It was good, that he wouldn't be around.

Before he left for the night, he made you promise to call if you needed him. Text him to check in. You did as he asked, but didn't hear much. Not a surprise, since he said he wouldn't have a lot of time to respond, but still wanted updates.

"That's great honey." Her smile is genuine, and you know she means it. She does mean well, mostly. It's not her fault you're bad at asking for help, or that since you left home, you've become stubbornly independent. You even spent a few years "gallivanting across the globe" as your sister liked to say, shirking responsibility after uni.

Your family was used to you being a bit of a ghost.

"- don't you think?" Your aunt's voice brings you back to earth, and you nod robotically, unsure of what you're agreeing to. You're about to apologize for missing the conversation when the baby monitor on the kitchen counter lights up, Orion's fussy 'I just woke up mom, come get me' cry crackling from the speaker.

"That's for me." You joke half heartedly with a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. You know the battle with ensue as soon as you come back into the living room with the baby, and you dread it.

"Hi baby." You bend at the waist, scooping him out of his crib. "You're gettin' too heavy for mama, big boy. Don't know what I'm gonna do when you're older." The thought stops you in your tracks, the acknowledgement that he'll get older, that soon he'll be six months, and then a year, two. He'll learn to crawl, to walk, to speak. It's exciting, and anxiety inducing. What if you mess him up? What if you don't give him a good life? What if you're not a good mom, or he gets sick, or there's an accident, or an attack or-

No. You're not going to do this. You're not going to fall into these obsessive what ifs. It will only make you sick to your stomach.

You get him into a new nappy and clothes before slinking back into the living room, cowed with your head down. His head turns against your chest, seeking, and you know he's starting to realize he's hungry.

But the vultures don't care.

"Bring that boy over here, let me hold him." Your aunt croons, syrupy sick voice conjuring a roar of nausea.

"He's probably hungry." You start to warn them that this won't last long as you lower him into her arms, but you know it will fall on deaf ears. "So-"

"Just get a bottle from the fridge dear, I can feed him no problem." You fight the urge to to snap at her, unreasonable rage swelling inside your heart. No one feeds him except you, and Simon. Bottles are fine when you're asleep and can't nurse, or between feedings, but he doesn't eat as much from them. Of course, you've tried to tell them that, multiple times, but it never seems to stick. Your mom knows, but she never stands up to her older sister.

Like mother like daughter, you guess. You've never been a doormat per se, but you don't have a strongest backbone, and becoming a mom has changed you, a lot. You've become even more soft, more sensitive. It's... a problem.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You know she's asking mostly about your body, your stitches, your physical aches and pains, which were plenty considering what you went through when Ry was born, but your mom's voice is gentle, like she senses you frustration, and you give her a weak smile. It's nice she's expressing interest, but that's usually as far as it goes, unless you count the meals she's brought over that you barely picked it, not having enough energy to even feed yourself, or shower, or the suggestion that you give her the baby all the time so you could 'take a break' even though he screamed the moment he was separated from you. Not helpful. Nobody cared that you had scary thoughts, scary moments, scary days. Nobody offered to be here at night with you, when you were all alone with the baby after dark, terrified, crying in the bathroom with your face buried in a towel so you wouldn't wake him. No one was here when you were afraid you might hurt him, or yourself, and no one seemed to hear you when you shrugged over and over again, your lack of interest in everything explicitly clear.

You sucked at asking for help, so you didn't. And when you did, you never got it right, or got the right answers, so you stopped asking. Everything became fine. Good.

"Fine, good." She opens her mouth to say something, ask some question, probably about Ry, when your blood goes cold.

The sound of your front door opening rings out like a bang, your eyes widening in panic, and you nearly run to the kitchen.

Oh fuck. Oh no, no no no-

You turn in slow motion to see your baby's daddy, the man who has a key now, stepping through the doorway. As soon as you lay eyes on him, you split down the middle. You're horrified, because of what's about to happen with the two hens on the couch and-

your libido roars to life. Simon's not wearing his usual jeans or joggers and black hoodie, but a camouflage military uniform. One that he fills out, broad shoulders and broad chest fitted snug inside the material. You think you're staring. Or drooling. Or both.

His lips quirk up on one side with a secretive, almost seductive smile, and he peeks over your shoulder before turning his attention back to you. "Hey mama."

"H-hey. Uh. Hi." Your hands uselessly flit around, like you're trying to swat some invisible bugs away or something. "My mom is still here. And my aunt," you can't help yourself, you take him in from head to toe one more time, "you look... nice."

"Price makes me wear my BDU for on base meetings." He grunts, slightly exasperated. Who?

"BDU?"

"Battle dress uniform. It's... the approved, standard uniform. I don't wear it... in the field." His lips press together, and your mind wanders, curious questions about 'the field' popping up like fireworks, but you push them away. Now is definitely not the right time. His thumb brushes your cheek, under your eye, and he frowns. "Everything alright?"

You step to the side, motioning to the living room, where your aunt and mother are whispering fiercely. You roll your shoulders, and take a deep breath. "Do you... want to, say hi?" The question is weak, your voice small. His brow furrows. He looks hesitant, and you don't blame him. They're a lot. It's a lot. He glances down at you again, head tilted in consideration. "Or you could just go. If you ran out that door... well I'd only wish I could come with you." You whisper, and he cracks a smile.

"No. 'm not runnin' from any part of you, sweetheart. C'mon. They can't be worse than..." he trails off, odd look in his eyes before it clears, "they can't be worse than a lot of things."

He follows you around the corner of the kitchen, crossing the threshold of the living room with two large strides.

Your mother gasps. Your aunt makes a sound that you can only describe as a goose being strangled, and Orion starts to cry. Perfect.

"Oh, oh shhh, shhhh." Your aunt tries to soothe him, but you know it won't work.

"Mom," you call over the noise, gesturing to the giant man standing next to your coffee table, and you, "Mom! This is Simon." She stares at you, confused, shocked even. You never told her your one night stand's name, just that you couldn't track him down, so she doesn't make the connection.

Still, she gapes at him. Clears her throat with a question.

"Is this... your boyfriend honey?" Your aunt's expression is not much different, and you freeze. Is he? Is that what this is? You half expect Simon to reject the term boyfriend flat out, but instead-

"Something like that." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, and you lean into it, relishing the comfort. Just the presence of him in the flat is enough to soothe you, lessen the tension you feel building in your chest. "Sounds like he's hungry, mama."

"Yeah, I think he's more than ready." You reach for Ry, eager to pick him up, but your aunt shifts her body, shying away, turning her shoulder to you. You're used to this, the keep away, the way they always try to convince you he'll calm down, to let them hold him for too long, to get him a bottle... but Simon is not.

He goes rigid at your side. You can feel the muscle in his arm turn to stone, and his eyes narrow, upper lip curling. Your mother's eyes go wide, but your aunt remains oblivious. "I can feed him, dear. Go get a bottle warmed up and-"

"No." Simon snaps, rough pitch of his voice dipping deeper into the manc accent, and she bristles. This bitch wouldn't be scared of the devil himself.

"Excuse me?" You watch the muscle in his jaw flex with fascination, wondering what he'll do next. You're brought back to when you met, when he stared down the guy who pushed you out of the way at the bar like he was going to murder him, before calling you over to settle next to his thigh. He put his hand on your waist, shielded you from everyone else for the rest of the night.

You were a goner before you ever had a chance to begin.

"Orion wants his mother. You can hand him over without a fuss, or I can throw you out of this flat. Your choice." His words are hard, cold steel, a sharp knife slicing away, exposing vulnerable parts and smashing them to pieces.

Your aunt has the gall to look scandalized, but when you glance at your mother, she has a different expression. It's warm. Approving. She mets your eyes with a small smile as you scoop Orion up, and then she stands.

"We'll get out of your hair, honey." She tugs you into a half hug before looking over. "Nice to meet you Simon." Your aunt is ranting and raving all the way to your front door, but once it's shut...

"Bloody hell." He mutters, and shakes his head. "I won't let anyone push you 'round like that, sweetheart. Family or not. Especially not in your own home, I-"

"Thank you." It's all you can say. "I um, kind of suck at sticking up for myself, sometimes. It means a lot, that you would do that. For me." He steps close, hand covering Orion's belly and chest, even though he's still crying.

"Kitten doesn't have any claws," he murmurs against your ear, and your eyebrows knit together. Uh... what? "Don't worry, you won't need 'em. Not now that you have me." There's something dangerous in his tone, something lethal and profound. It’s as fervid as his proclamation about his commitment to you, to Orion. Like dark water, bottomless and black, it draws you out deeper, sends shivers up your spine, but doesn't turn you away. It makes you curious, intrigued, desperate to peel back his layers, to dig into him until you know it all, inside and out.

Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that what they say?

You weren't afraid of him that night, and you're not afraid now. You know Simon is not an ordinary man. You know you've bitten off a lot, by having his baby, rekindling this connection, giving him a key-

but you plan to chew.

[leviismybby]

If only I knew

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader, angsty angst, slight fluff but not too much

With the titans being gone and the world healing, people move on Levi Ackerman is no exception, he sits outside on the balcony, his eyes looking at people who pass down below. Every single one of them has their own story, their own struggles and challenges. He wondered sometimes what the story was of that old baker down the street that sells those sweet pastries he brings to the kids he is helping sometimes or that woman who always went on evening walks. He sees families, couples, mothers with their children, all of them with a different life than his own. 

Levi wasn't going to complain, this was the peace he fought for, he wishes sometimes that the people he cared about were still here but he learned to accept his freedom and stop feeling guilty about it, this is what they would want for him. As he looks at a young couple pass by, his thoughts wander back to you. How were you? Have you been doing good? Have you moved on from him? He thinks about you way too much and wonders if you think about him too. What if it was different? What if you were here with him? Enjoying the morning air just like he is....

He shakes his head and takes the now cooled-down cup of tea on the table next to him, he catches himself doing what he told himself not to do, going through all of those what-ifs that do nothing but put him in a spiral of thought. It's a habit he is working on getting rid of, there is nothing he has if he keeps living in the past. Levi has no regrets, that what he tells himself but, you were his regret, he regretted not going back to you and if he could go back in time for only one minute, he would go back to you.

His memories of you are still crystal clear, he hasn't forgotten what you looked like, how could he? You were his first and only love.

The underground wasn't a pleasant place to live, Levi scoffs as he cleans the floor, he tries to be quiet not to wake you up as you're still sleeping. His eyes look at the clock from time to time, he wonders if Furlan and Isabele have managed to get themselves a decent breakfast, he left them a note where hid some of the food supplies. He spent the night at your place, recently finding it a guilty pleasure of his. Does he feel bad for lying to his friends about where he is? Yes, he does. Does he feel like it's a need to keep you safe? Yes, he does. Both of them know about you and that you're Levi's girlfriend but Levi likes to keep your relationship a secret as much as he can.

As he continues to clean the floor, he eventually hears footsteps coming his way and looks up to see you leaning against the doorframe watching him clean. Your place wasn't big, you had two rooms, one was used as your bedroom and the other as your kitchen. "Well good morning, handsome." You smile as you speak and Levi rolls his eyes as he stands up. "Didn't I tell you to stop with the nicknames?" The smile doesn't leave your face, you can't help but tease him, it's your favorite thing to do. "No, you're handsome."

He approaches you and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. "Since you're already trying to suck up from the early fucking morning. Have about you make the bed while I make breakfast?" You groan. "Fine, we did leave it a mess." Levi can't help but let the side of his lip quirked up slightly, you two were rather intense any time you made love, he enjoyed it thoroughly. "Of course we did, you're a wild one in the sheets."

That morning when you two were eating breakfast, he noticed a discomfort on your face. "Name, what's the matter?" You rub your neck, feeling nausea again, the fourth morning in a row. "I am...fine just.." You stop for a second taking a deep breath. "I feel like I have to throw up." Quickly you stand up from the table and bend over the skin to throw up, Levi follows swiftly behind you, holding your hair and rubbing your back gently. After you're done, he reaches for the napkin and wipes your mouth before cleaning the sink as you sit down. "It's most likely a flu, Furlan had it last week." Levi says as he kneels before you and puts his hand over your lap. "Rest, I'll take care of everything."

Levi's memory trip is interrupted by his doorbell ringing, he stands up and takes his cane and makes his way to the door, cursing his leg. Opening the door, his eyes go slightly wide as he sees Jean and Connie, now both even more mature than the last time he saw them. They were in their early twenties now, both mature men, well as mature as Jean and Connie can get anyway. "You two...this is a surprise." Levi says and steps aside to let them in, usually when any of them visit they sent a letter prior so something must've happened for them to come all the way here.

"How's your leg, ca- Levi?" Jean almost face palms at Connie's slip-up, he didn't blame him however, it was a force of habit and long years of Levi being the Survey Corps captain. "It has its days. I don't need the shitty wheelchair today, at least not yet." He says as he leads them into the living room to sit down, they sit down on the sofa opposite Levi who sits down on a chair. "Do you two want something to drink?" Levi asks despite the fact that he can see that the two were in a hurry to tell him something. "No thank you. We won't be long." Jean says and takes his hat off. "We uh, the reason for our visit is tho." He pulls out a photo from his coat pocket and puts it on the table in front of Levi.

Levi arches an eyebrow for a second before taking a look at the photograph. There's silence for a few moments, this time it's Connie that speaks again. "We got it from Historia, she got the file for the newest recruits who just signed up for the military and when she came across the photo, she immediately called us." Of course, the new rule on Paradis is that you have to be 16 years of age to sign up to train for the military, Historia can't do much about the tight grip that the new regiment has on people but she made sure that kids no longer have to train at early age.

Silence falls over the room again as Levi observed the person in the photo. “This boy…..he looks familiar…” Levi takes a look at the photo better, thousands of questions going on through his mind. Jean and Connie look at each other, not knowing how to approach the situation, Jean clears his throat before speaking. “That's why we brought you that picture, we thought you might be able to tell us who it is.”

Levi keeps looking at the photograph. “And how old is he? Do you know?” He looks up, his face showing curiosity. “He is 16.” Connie’s words seem to leave Levi thinking even more. 16 years old…he saw you last 16 years ago. “16….” Levi sighs and looks at the photo again, his eyes pay close attention to the boy’s hair, jaw and eyes. His eyes darted over the mirror in the hallway then back at the image in his hand. 

Dammit name. Levi says in his head, this boy had his features, his gray eyes, his sharp jaw, the dark hair, those nose all of it, his. He looks at Jean and Connie who are both waiting for an explanation, an explanation that Levi does not have, he does not doubt that this is his kid but he cannot tell them something he didn't even know about. Now he starts to feel stupid, no wonder you were having all of those sick mornings and suddenly started to crave food that you usually had a dislike for, you were pregnant, pregnant with his baby. Another money creeps into his mind...

"Be careful." You say as you watch Levi put the gear on. "Why are these people after you anyway?" He doesn't answer you as he focuses on strapping his gear on the right. "I don't know. All I know is that I have to go above ground to kill that blondie." Blondie? He must be referring to that tall blonde guy, the one you saw last week wearing a dark green cloak with wings of freedom on it. "I am doing this for us. If I get my hands on those papers we can finally go live above ground." He approaches you and wraps his hands around your waist, his eyes locked with yours. "I'll be back." Levi says, taking your face in his hands when he notices your eyes get watery. "When?" Your voice is shaky. "I'll be back." He repeats his words before kissing you passionately.

"We just, never saw you with anyone that way so it was a surprise to see the photo." Jean's voice interrupts Levi's train of thought, he sighs putting the photo on the desk. "There was someone before I joined the Survey Corps....Name." The way your name rolled off his lips after so many years makes it almost painful for Levi, as much as it's hard for him to speak, he continues. "She was someone I met when I was young in the underground, we were together for a long time before I went above ground with Erwin and Miche."

Connie knows that he should let Levi speak but his curiosity gets the best of him. "What happened? Did you not go back for her?" That question hurts Levi, not because he didn't try to go back to you but because he did and when he went back, you weren't there. "I did, so many times. I let myself be stopped by the suffering of my comrades too many times but I did. About two years after writing letters to her and her never responding, I went back and she...was gone. Her stuff was still there, most of it scarred across the floor like someone had broken in. I went back above ground and accepted two options, one that she was either dead, killed by the criminals in the underground or that she parished into the dirty streets and died of illness.....she was feeling ill before I left and of course, it never clicked in my mind that she was pregnant with my child."

Jean and Connie listen as Levi talks, even they can feel the dread and longing from his voice. "So I left it. Buried it deep in me with only memories of her to hold. But this.." He takes a photo of his son in his hand again, he closes his eyes for a moment trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. "Changes everything. Do you know more about him? His name?" They shake their heads, maybe Historia did tell them a name but they were too in shock from seeing the photo to react. "I think Queen Historia would be welcome to speak with you over the telephone, the problem is it's hard to reach her."

"No." Levi says. "I will speak to her personally, I need to know more." It was a sentence Levi didn't think he would ever say, going back to a place that considers him a traitor. His son may be one of those people for all he knows, he did grow up on Paradis but he has faith in you, that you told him about his father. He would understand if you didn't too, you had every right to after how he left. "Are you sure that's smart? People on Paradis are rather hostile with former members of the survey corps." They were telling Levi what he already knew, he reads the newspapers and listens to the radio, he knows better than anyone the injustice the new regiment does to him and his fallen friends and comrades however, it's his son, his flesh and blood. As much he wishes that he was strong enough to let it go, he can't, even if you remarried, even if you forgot him, he had to see you again, to meet his he didn't know even existed until about thirty minutes ago.

"I know and it probably isn't smart. That won't stop me, now that I know about him...I can't let it go."

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

Levi can't move, it's like he is stuck in one place. He holds onto his cane as he watches from afar, his breath hitches in his throat. His son is just a few steps away but it's like something is holding Levi back as just stands there, looking at him. Regret starts to creep in again, he was 16, and Levi has missed so much of his life, he missed his first steps, his first words, his first day of school. Leo, that was his name, Armin told him when he came to Paradis.

It has changed a lot, there are a lot of familiar places but yet they seem so foreign, he can see his comrades in every corner, hear their laughter. He can see himself in Leo as he trains, very clearly skilled and fast. Levi wanted nothing more than to talk to him, what would he say if he does? He was 41 years old now, will his son hear him out? Does he ever know about him?

There's a loud whistle suggesting that the training is over, Levi's eyes follow Leo as he walks over to the bench and drinks some water. It's like looking in a mirror a few years back, they looked so much alike, it wouldn't take anyone who knew Levi personally to figure out who Leo was. Levi looks away for a moment thinking to himself. If he goes over there and talks to him, he will figure out everything. What happened to you, he would hear his son talk, get to know him if he lets him to.

Instead, Levi turns around, he gulps, trying to surpass the tears in his eyes. Or maybe it's better that his son doesn't get to know him, that you don't see him again. Maybe Levi isn't as strong as he thought he was, he looks back and sees that Leo is talking to his peers, clearly enjoying the company of his friends. That makes Levi smile slightly, he seems like a good guy, he didn't expect otherwise, you raised him. Levi was about to call out but then he sees someone approach Leo again, this time he knows who it is, it was you.

Levi's eyes go wide and he moves a little closer, not enough for you two to see him but enough for him to hear your conversation. "Hey ma." Leo smiles at you as you sit next to him. "Here you go, now remember to return the basket after you're done." Levi watches as Leo takes a look at the basket, his hands going through it. "Ma, I told you not to bake. I can't have too much sweets in my diet." Despite his words, he takes a bite out of a cookie, Levi knows himself how good of a cook you are, he can almost taste the flavor in his mouth.

You were stunning, you matured and Levi couldn't find you more beautiful. He is happy for you, happy that his son has so much respect and love for you. Leo finishes the cookie and then takes the basket from you, his mouth full of food. "Leo, slow down." You scold, putting your hands on your hips. "Sorry ma, missed your cooking." There's something that you feel on your back, like someone is looking at you from afar and what's worse is that it feels like deja vu, like you have felt that type of stare before.

You turn around and Levi is quick to hide behind a wall, he sees that you keep looking for a couple of minutes. "Ma? Is everything okay?" Leo asks his mother, trying to see what she is looking at. "Yes, it's all fine...I just felt someone looking at me is all." You turn back to face your son and Levi finally sums up the courage, he comes around the corner slightly and starts walking towards you until....

"So ma, how is dad doing?" That stops Levi in his tracks, dad? But he...he was- "He is doing good and remember that next time he will be the one visiting so try to act more.... Like a soldier." Leo rolls his eyes at that. "Like hell I will, I am the most skilled one here, it's not like I can't act human just because I have duties to attend." Levi hears the words, unlike him, Leo is putting the people dear to him over duty. You laugh a little and then pinch Leo on the cheek. "Alright now, don't be rude to dad he cares for you."

It was like a dagger to Levi, you did move on, and you did forget him. He turns around not wanting to listen to that conversation anymore, it was killing him inside. His son...doesn't even know about him. If only he knew, if he visited you earlier all those years ago. If only he stayed...while you would've been in the underground, you would've been together and he would have a son that knew him.

-------------------------------------------------- Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @mrsackermannx @sixpennydame @svftackerman @hhighkey @cometlevi @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @randomlevithoughts @ackermendick @saenora @loveackermannn @levismylover @laurenzitaa @missyasma @sad-darksoul @thebobaprincess @la-undercover-latina @levilxvr @bpdtistic

[soapybutt17]

Coldest Night

Summary: What if your worse nightmare has come to life?

Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. John "Soap" MacTavish.

Word Count: 1,702

Chapter Warnings: Angst. Character Death(s). Life threatening injuries. Mentions of blood loss. Mentions of violence. Major Spoiler for MW3.

A/N: To the anon that sent me the request, just know that i know you had good intentions, but i am not over mw3 and what they had done to my boy Soap and now i'm just down right sad again. didn't go into too much detail for soap's part cuz the wound is still fresh and my boy did not deserve what happened to him. :'(

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

John “Soap” MacTavish

The day that you had learned Soap was KIA, you had fallen to your knees in the middle of the base and had sobbed your heart out. Johnny had always had a special place in your heart. Out of the three, you had worried about Soap the most knowing how his tendency to act brashly had ended with him more injured than he needed to be.

You mourned his death worse than anyone else in the base. You were the one that had to make the call to his family, letting them know about Soap’s passing. How it had been so hard for you to hold the tears as you listened to his parents crying through the other line. You still held a level of professionalism as you explained to his family the next step that was needed to be taken and you would be helping them all throughout wherever they may need you.

Early on, a part of you would begin to blame each and every single one of the boys. They had made a promise to you that they would keep an eyes on each other. But they broke it, you had unfortunately displaced most of your anger towards your husband, who’s already filled with guilt knowing Soap had died under his command, Soap had died saving him from Makarov.

But slowly but surely you began to heal, learning that you should not have blamed anyone of the boys for what has happened—especially your husband. The man was already plagued with his own guilt, Survivor’s guilt as the therapist you had forced all three of them to take had explained. You had your own guilt, knowing if only you had been there for the mission, you could have made difference. But at the end of the day, there was no use thinking of the what ifs. It was about learning to move on.

It was in Soap’s death that you and your husband have decided to retire. The fear of having to lose either Gaz or Ghost haunted you both. It was no a decision either of you would be willing to make any longer. You couldn’t in your conscious allow another meaningless death because of a war be on either of your hands.

Even as the years has passed since Soap’s death, you had never forgotten the man and all the memories that you had shared with him in your time as part of the Taskforce. You were still mourning just as much as your husband, but it was slowly but surely getting better. It had also become your mission of constantly checking up on the two boys, proud that they’ve gotten themselves promoted as Captain and Lieutenant respectfully. They had both deserved it, more than either of them would believe, Soap would have been their number one support should he still been alive to witness it all.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Don’t you fucking die on me, Riley!”

Even as hard as you try to keep the wound covered, Simon was losing so much blood that you were slowly but surely doubting if he would be able to make it. It was stupid of him to take the bullet to save you. Completely and utterly stupid of him to do this to you now when he finally has a life to live.

“You deserve to live, you’ve got the Captain and the little princess waiting for you back home.” Simon gasp, even as hard as he tries to be strong, pain was very well written on his masked face.

Your hands dug further onto his stomach where the bullet wound resides. All of your medical training has faded from your mind as panic continued to settle. Tearing your sleeves off, you placed it onto his stomach, hoping it would add to the gauze stopping the wound from bleeding further out.

“You fucking deserve to live too.” You snapped, radioing back up again. A single tear was shed as you were given an ETA of an hour.

Simon might not make it in an hour.

“I want you to promise me something, Rookie.” He coughed, his shaking hand slowly pulled off his mask revealing his pale face, and blood loss was slowly but surely manifesting. “Promise me that you’ll bury me in my home town, not as Ghost, but as Simon Riley.”

You sobbed, knowing what his request had entailed. His past that had once haunted him all throughout his life and his career. He was ready to leave it all behind and live and die finally as the man behind the mask.

“Bury me with me Mum and brother.”

“Okay.” You nod, sobbing now as he clasped onto your hands pulling it away from the wound on his stomach.

“Thank you for being the Mum I thought I could never have again.” He whispered cupping your cheeks with his bloodied hand before his hands fell and his eyes closed.

Death had taken him from you and all you could do was sob, shaking him awake, ignoring the voice of your husband and the rest of the team that had grown concern that your sobs would notify their enemies of your whereabouts, but it truly didn’t matter. You’ve lost Simon, your boy. The man that you had loved like he was your own, and the man you had promised your husband to protect when you had agreed to go on this mission with him.

You had failed Simon, just as much as you had failed to keep your promise with John. You would never see yourself ever stepping back onto a mission again after this. You had vowed to yourself never to because of it.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

“How is he?”

It’s been three days of no sleep for you. You had refused to leave the confinements of the cold plastic chair that was situated outside of the hospital room where Kyle was in. No one, not even your husband could coerce you into leaving your place outside of the room.

John, Soap, and Simon had begun taking turns in giving you food, coffee, or change of clothes. But nothing could truly make you leave your position until you were sure that Kyle was stable and as far away from any sorts of danger.

But you should have expected something like this to happen. A mission gone wrong would always end with someone getting compromised. You were thankful that it was just an injury—as severe as it had been for the past few days, it was better than dealing with a funeral and paper works that come along with it.

You were still shaken up after you’ve been notified that Kyle was compromised. You dropped everything and made your way here in the hospital. All thoughts of work and your obligations were placed in the backburner until you were certain he was going to be alright.

“Stable.” The Doctor’s single word had washed all the relief onto your body. It was all you needed to know.

“Damages?” You inquired.

“Broken collar bone and hairline fracture to the skull, but they will heal. What I want him to focus more on is healing the few bullet wounds to the stomach he dealt with. We were able to remove most of the bullets and fragments, but we will not be certain about any underlying damage until after he wakes up.”

You nod. In the years of knowing Kyle, you know he would be able to get back from this, but knowing the damages that he had to endure because of this mission, there was this fear that just doesn’t seem to leave you. What if there was something wrong that would change his life in a way that no one would help him with.

“When will he be able to wake up then?”

“When he is good and ready.”

You nodded, thanking the doctor for the update. Slumping back onto the chair, you sighed resting your face onto your hand. Only now did you feel the fatigue and lack of sleep finally get to you.

“How are you holding up, Darling?”

Looking up, the sight of your husband was a welcome comfort for you in this very moment. He sat beside you with his arm immediately wrapping around your shoulder. Only now did you also come to realize the shiver that run through your body at the lack of coat.

“Better than Kyle is.” You muttered.

“He’s gonna be alright.” John’s reassurance did nothing to you in the moment, but you held onto it still. Every single reassurance that was given to you, you would take.

“I hope so,” You muttered. “He was supposed to be on drill duties next week.” You hoped a little humor could ease away your worries.

“And he still will when he wakes up.” John reassured with a chuckle. “I’ll make sure of it, My Love.”

“What if he doesn’t come out of this the same way?”

“Then we will help him adjust to the civilian life should it be the choice he makes for himself.” He answered immediately. “We will not know for sure, but whatever happens, it is our duty and our responsibility to make sure all three of those Muppets are well taken care of whether they still work for us or not.”

You nodded understanding very well what he was trying to say.

“I just can’t stop worrying about him. I don’t know how he’s doing right now and what he’s feeling.”

“I worry about him too.” John admits sighing. “But we will resolve nothing if all we do is worry about him and the other two.”

You nodded. Only now did you realize that for the past few days, your husband had allowed you the time to take it all in. How one member of your team being compromised as Kyle was right now would not be the first time that it would happen and you were certain it would not be the last.

You had your duty just like John did. With Kyle now in the clear, it was only time for you to regroup and deal with the mess you’ve left behind in the base.

[laundrybiscuits]

(Continued from Part 1)

Steve’s first thought is that he’s died and this is the afterlife, which makes no sense. But it makes a hell of a lot more sense than Eddie Munson, frozen in the doorway of the bar, staring at him.

Another patron pushes past Eddie, because he’s kind of blocking the entrance, and Eddie stumbles a little. It seems to shake him out of whatever stasis he’d been in, and he turns back towards the door.

Steve fucking vaults over the bar. Even lunging full speed, he barely manages to grab Eddie’s jacket in his fist.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls, dragging Eddie back inside. “I swear to god, Munson, I will track you down like it’s 1986 all over again.”

Eddie lets out a choked little laugh. “Okay, okay, Harrington. Cool your jets. I’m here, you got me.” 

His voice is a little different. Rougher, maybe. He still sounds like himself; he still looks like himself. 

Steve clamps a hand on the back of Eddie’s neck like he’s scruffing a cat, and hauls him stumbling along to the back room. “Taking my break, Laurie,” he calls on the way. It’s a slow night, and Laurie likes him. He’ll have as long as he needs to deal with the Eddie Munson Situation.

He lets go of Eddie once they’re in the back. He doesn’t want to. He can’t stop staring. The idea of Eddie has followed Steve around since he was 19. Having the flesh-and-blood guy in front of him is tripping him out. It’s like double vision, the way he sees Eddie and also all the Eddie-related thoughts he’s had over the years all at once, all crammed into one space. 

Eddie’s visibly uncomfortable, shifting his weight. His eyes are darting around like he’s scoping out exits. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. 

“I don’t forgive you,” Steve says. It feels like the words are being scraped out of him with a butter knife.

“I…” Eddie hesitates. “Yeah, I get it. Okay, I’ll just. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Steve’s reaching out before he even realizes he’s moving, grasping tight at Eddie’s shirt like a child and crowding close. “No, no, I don’t want—you can’t do that again. You can’t leave again. You don’t get to fucking leave like that.” 

“Oh, Harrington,” says Eddie. He folds Steve into his arms, so carefully, and then Steve’s clinging to him, head tucked into his shoulder, shaking like a tornado. 

It’s fucked up, but this might actually be the first time they’ve ever touched in a deliberate kind of way, aside from the kind of shoulder-slaps and awkward jostling that teenage boys do when they don’t know how to be in each others’ space without it being some kind of fight. Steve doesn’t live like that anymore; he thinks nobody should have to live like that. Now, it’s so easy to curl into Eddie and soak up every little thing, the way his skin and hair smell a little bit like sweat and smoke, how all of him is here under Steve’s hands. 

Steve wants to crack open his own ribcage and stuff Eddie inside. 

The thought is so sudden and solid that it snaps him out of his little breakdown. He needs to stop thinking about Eddie as a defining moment of his youth and start thinking about him as someone who probably has plans for his life that don’t involve being clung to by Steve Harrington for all eternity. 

It’s just that he’s had his whole adult life to let the what-ifs and possibilities ferment in him, shaping who he is, and there’s just no way he can ever be even a little bit normal about Eddie.

He’s got to try, though. Steve pulls back and clears his throat. Eddie’s eyes flick down to where Steve can’t quite make himself let go of the grip he has on that stupid leather jacket, but Eddie doesn’t say a word. It might be a kindness, or Eddie might’ve just learned some tact in the last decade.

“So,” says Steve. “Explain.”

Eddie starts talking right away, no hesitation, like he’s been waiting to be asked.

“Okay, so, after everything went down, the feds took my body back and kept it for a couple years to run their creepy little tests on. Normal fucked-up government stuff. Got the shock of their lives when I started thrashing around all monster-y, very Night of the Living Dead. And then by the time they figured out I was, y’know, coming back, we figured it’d be kinder to just let you all get on with your lives. I wasn’t even talking like I was human for a few years, and by that time, the kids were practically done with high school, so. That was pretty much that.”

“How long,” says Steve. An awful image is starting to take shape behind his eyes.

“How long what?” Eddie tilts his head, looking confused.

“How long were you alone. How long were you locked up.”

“Oh. I dunno. Are we counting from, like, when my body first regained consciousness? Or when I first remembered who I was?”

“Either. Both.”

“A while, I guess. It really sucked, I’m not gonna lie. But…they didn’t even know I was me, so I can’t really blame them.” Eddie huffs out a croaky little laugh. “Harrington, you gotta understand. I didn’t know I was me. They basically had a wild animal of unknown demonic origin for their little menagerie, so they weren’t too psyched about me starting to be, like, a person who might possibly have rights again. I think I really messed up some of their research.” 

“I wish—they should’ve told us. They should’ve told—we would’ve helped. We would’ve done something.”

“It wasn’t so bad. Four walls and a roof, got my Fancy Feast twice a day.”

“Fucking hell, Eddie. How long have you been out? Wait, how long have you been in Chicago?”

“Not that long. They ran out of funding a few months ago, so now I’m kind of a tag-and-release deal. Wound up here a couple weeks ago, just trying to figure out what comes next.” 

So at least it's not like Eddie's been running around just existing in the world for years, and Steve missed it. He feels relieved, and then he fucking hates that he's relieved, because at least Eddie wouldn't have been a damn lab rat. 

He wants Eddie to be happy. he really does. He's just greedy, is all. He had all these scraps of Eddie that he hoarded jealously through the years, thinking there'd never be any more, and now it's overwhelming to be able to look and touch and breathe the same air. 

Steve just needs to keep remembering that Eddie's his own person. But maybe it's okay that he's going to be weird about Eddie, because Eddie is looking back, taking in whatever there is of Steve to take in. The glasses, maybe, or the earring. 

“What happened to you, Steve Harrington?” Eddie’s voice is quiet, like he’s talking to himself. Maybe he is.

“You did,” says Steve. 

Eddie looks up, almost cartoonishly surprised. His mouth actually drops open. 

“We weren’t friends or anything. You didn’t know me.” Even as he says it, Eddie’s wincing like he knows he’s wrong, or maybe just like he knows he's being cruel. He doesn’t take it back, though.

“Fuck you, Eddie. Christ. If you think it didn’t fucking kill me that you died, fuck you.” 

“You’re still kicking, ain’tcha?” But Eddie’s already jostling close. He’s like a cat, trying to comfort Steve by climbing all over him. 

It’s fucked up that Eddie is having to comfort Steve about his own death, when Steve’s had a whole life in the years when Eddie was lying alone on a government slab somewhere. He’s said yes and yes and yes to Robin, to chances, to the Eddie he’d carried around in his head like a song that won’t let you go. Steve went to London with Robin, and walked through Camden Market in the sunshine thinking Eddie would’ve loved this, all while Eddie was getting hooked up to monitors underground. Steve went dancing in Paris and kissed a beautiful man with dark, curly hair who spoke almost no English by the Seine, while Eddie was clawing his way back to humanity.

Steve’s had every good thing because of Eddie, because he wanted to live the kind of brave and colorful life that Eddie'd had stolen from him, and now Eddie’s rubbing his back gently and going, “Hey, it’s okay, it all worked out fine. You’re okay.”

“I grew my hair out for a while,” says Steve. 

Eddie audibly gasps, clutching at his heart and reeling dramatically. “Tell me there are photos, Harrington. You can’t just say that and not show me photos.”

“Yeah.” Steve finally lets go of Eddie’s jacket. “I can do that. Give me a second to talk to my boss and we’ll go see the photos.” 

He pauses before he opens the door. Eyes fixed firmly ahead, he says quietly: “Eddie. Um. You should know. If you pull another runner on me, I’m—I’m not gonna survive it, man. So just…promise you won’t leave without telling me first.”

“I won’t,” says Eddie. “Promise.”

(series tag)

[nyasiaaaaa]

In the Bleak Mid-Winter

In the Bleak Mid-Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse)  

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him. 

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: Cursing, blood, Slight smut ( hand job), Kissing, angst, hurt/ no comfort Tommy Shelby, ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually. 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 5  part 6

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

Week 1: 

 The first 72 hours after surgery were rough; everyone was waiting around to see if he would slip in the night. He made it through. Well, he started breathing on his own, so that was good, but he still hasn't woken up. In the mornings, you would continuously walk past his room, peaking through the window, seeing if he was still alive, seeing who visited him. You always watched, but you never went in. During the day, you worked with other patients, and at night, you would sit by his bed and watch him sleep every night. 

Week 2: 

Tommy was still in a coma, and every day, your fears worsened. All the what-ifs ran through your head; what if he never woke up? Still, every night, you were by his side waiting, watching. 

Week 3: 

Two nights ago, Tommy woke up; you were "talking" to him, which you did most nights to help with the silence and pass the time. You were busy ranting about your day and this horrible patient who had come into the ER as you knitted a sweater. 

"So then she yelled at me, telling me I'm a stupid bitch who needs to go get a real doctor to check her out. So then, you know what I did? I gave her a piece of my mind," you said, pausing to focus on the sweater for a second. 

"You did, eh?" 

If it wasn't for the fact that you could see his eyes open, you would've thought you had hallucinated. You rushed over to him, dropping the sweater on the floor.

"Tommy, are you ok? How do you feel? Do you need some water? Hold on, let me go get the Doctor." You were about to rush off when you felt yourself being pulled back slightly

"Let another nurse get the doctor; you didn't finish telling me your story." His words came out rushed, almost as if he was pushing them out so he could take a breath. 

"Ok," You laughed as you wiped the tears on your face and held his hand tightly. 

Week 4:

   Tommy was getting better every day; he wasn't making huge milestones, but he was meeting his goals. 

   You walked in to check on Tommy during lunch after finishing up with most of your work for the day. You caught him trying to bring his head down to his hands so he could put the cig in his mouth. This might not seem like much, but the fact that he could get the cig out of the box in the first place was huge.

 You walked up to him, taking the cig out of his hand before licking your lip and running the cig across them. You held the cig between your lips as you reached down and got a match from the box; you lit up, taking a drag before placing it in Tommy's mouth.

"Thank you"

"You welcome." 

You walked towards the end of his bed, picking up the paper for Today and walking back up towards him, pulling a chair with you along the way. You placed the chair next to him, taking a seat as you flipped through the paper. 

You stopped flipping to reach up and take the cig from Tommy to ash it before giving it back to him.

"Anything interesting," he asked. 

"Nope, the only thing is that it seems your horse came in 3rd place at the derby; congratulations, Mr.Shebly." 

Again, you reached up, taking the cig from his mouth, ashing it, and then giving it back. Tommy rested his head back and closed his eyes as he finished his cig.

"What else does it say?" he turned to look at you. "Read it to me," he asked, and you did; for the rest of the afternoon, you sat there reading the paper to Tommy as you lit and ashed his cigs for him. 

Week 5: 

 It didn't take long for you to catch on that Tommy couldn't read. Well, it's not that he couldn't read, but he couldn't see. Tommy was on a load of medication, and you couldn't even remember everyone, let alone the dose of each one. You were getting his medicine ready for him, but you could only remember three out of six of the medications, and you didn't read the doses for them.

You looked around for Tommy's chart and saw it was on the nightstand across the room next to him.

"Tommy read the medicines and doses out loud for me; I can't remember if I'm doing this right, so just read them all, please,"

Tommy grabbed the clipboard and looked at it; you waited a bit, giving him some time to locate the information.

Seconds turn into minutes, and Tommy still hasn't said a word; you turn around to catch him holding the clip close to his face, moving it far away, and then back close up. 

"Tommy"

He looked over the papers one more time before handing the clip out to you; you walked up, took it out of his hand, and then walked back over to the medicines; you fished up and brought them all over to Tommy.

"I'm going for lunch with the other nurse. I'll be back." You walked toward the door, opening it before you turned back toward Tommy. 

"I'll send for the eye doctor to come about." You gave him a tight smile before closing the door and heading out for lunch with your friends.  

Week 6: 

Tommy started his physical therapy a couple of days ago, and every day, you accompanied him. You didn't have to be there for his physical therapy, but you wanted to, and you had the feeling Tommy did, too. 

You sat at the opposite side of Tommy, who stood at the end of parallel bars; he held himself up as the physical therapist told him what to do. 

"Ok. Now, Mr.Shelby, when you are ready, start walking down to her; take your time. Don't rush." 

Tommy started to walk towards you. It wasn't the most stable, and it was very slow as he basically dragged himself along the bars as he walked. He only made it a few steps before taking a break to catch his breath. You could tell he was embarrassed if anyone saw him right now….

It's been a few minutes, and Tommy still hasn't moved; you don't know if he's in pain or if his mind is racing with fear of the future.

You pick the newspaper up next to you and quickly glance over.

"Tommy, I knew you had a horse racing this weekend, but you didn't say it won first place." You held the newspaper up, covering your face as you spoke. Your poker face wasn't the best, but you needed to get Tommy out of his head.

"Bring it here." 

You knew you had him, seeing as it was early in the morning, and neither John nor Arthur had been by to tell him the actual placing of his horse.

"Wow, won by an Inch, a close call, they say. Hey, what's the type of payout from a win like this?" You Ignored him as you continued to "Skim" through the paper.

You peeked around the paper to see Tommy walking towards you. He was still struggling, but his steps had much more determination behind them. 

He reached the end of the bars and leaned on them as he held his hand out. 

"Oi, give it here."

"You can't even see the words on the paper, Tommy."

"Don't care" 

You handed him the paper, and even though Tommy couldn't see, it didn't really matter; on the cover of the newspaper was a big picture of a gangster who had been killed. 

Tommy's horse had raced the other day, and the papers had the result, but it would be on Today's paper, and Tommy was holding yesterday's. 

He let out a puff of air as he read over the paper. He looked up at you raising the papers, and he did,

"Where's today's paper?"

"I don't know; I think the mail boy is running late." You glanced over your shoulder as if you were looking for him. "He should be here soon, maybe even by the time you finish your therapy," you gave him a smile with a thumbs up.

"Now, going on, turn around; you still have about an hour to go," you said, cheering him on.

He looked at you briefly before Turning around and walking back towards the Doctor. 

You watched Tommy continue on the bars before switching to some weight lifting and more. Today ( Monday) was the start, but by Friday, you could already see the difference in his steps and how confidently he took them; he was getting better and stronger every day. 

Later, you learn that his horse did, in fact, win first place. 

Week 7:

Tommy has been doing very well in physical therapy to the point where he is off the bars and is now walking around with a cane; he can't go far, but it's a start. You still go to every appointment even though no one asked you to; you still go, just like how you still sit with Tommy through the night even though he's been out of the woods for weeks. You don't know why you are doing this, but you can't stop. 

Week 8:

You were exhausted; you had been doing this for eight weeks now, and to be honest, you were surprised you had been able to keep this up; you hadn't spent a night at your apartment in weeks. You were always at the hospital during the day and night; you slept next to Tommy at night but only caught a couple of hours if you were lucky. 

And your body ached in places you never knew could hurt; sleeping in that chair every night started to make you have bad posture. You had to stop; you had to start going home, getting a good night's sleep, and taking showers in the comfort of your own home; you need rest and space. 

You decide that starting Today, you will go home instead of staying with Tommy for the night; you finish your shift like usual, but instead of heading towards Tommy's room, you head outside to head home. You decide not to tell Tommy that you aren't going to be "staying the nights" anymore; you don't see any reason to. Tommy is usually asleep by the time you come, and you are gone by the time he wakes up, so he wouldn't know the difference anyway, and you feel like if you did say something, he might see you as…… Creepy. 

Week 9:

You ended up taking three days off. That first night you got home, you slept the best you have in your whole life, and the following day, you couldn't get up, so you called off; you stayed home relaxed, read, and just spent time with yourself. You didn't realize how bad you need this until day two came, and you called out again because the idea of returning to work makes you sick. 

Again, you rested, cleaned, and just spent time with yourself; the quiet is what you enjoyed the most, and the smell of anything other than chemicals and bleach. Again, on the third day, you called out, but you told yourself that this would be the last day; after this, you would head back to work, so you needed to enjoy it while it lasted, and you did. You went to the market and shopped for food, went out to the pictures during the time, so it was empty and quiet, and even went to a boutique in town that you've always seen but never gone to. By the end of your day, you were tired, but in a good way, you felt good enough to head back to work. 

The next day, you headed to work with a bit of a skip in your step; you missed Tommy; you would never say that out loud, but you did. 

You walked in and said a quick hello to the other nurses before. Heading off to Tommy's room, as soon as you entered the room, you smelled opioids. You looked around the room for the source and found a pipe next to Tommy on the bed. You picked it up and turned it over in your hands as you studied it.

You reached down and pushed Tommy. 

"Wake up, Tommy. Wake up." You pushed him again; he was lying on his stomach, and his arms circled his pillow. You pushed his once more as you yelled, "TOMMY!"

He began to stir as he lifted his head up to look at you; you looked at yourself dazed before darting his eyes to what was in your hands and then back to your face.

"What?" his voice was raspy. 

"W-what is this, Tommy? This is bad for you, and especially with your injury, you have no business doing this; the damage it could cause is irreversible.” You were upset. You had gone over everything Tommy could and couldn't have, what he could and couldn't do. 

"I needed to sleep," he said before laying his head back down. 

"You sleep fine; if you didn't, you could've asked for some tablets to help."  

You guess he was tired of hearing your voice cause he covered his ears, letting out a groan; he Lay there for a second before turning and sitting up; he looked at you and nodded his head toward the cane, leaning up against the wall.

You walked over, got it for him, handing it to him as you still awaited an answer for why he was smoking this.

"Tommy, you don't make sense; I've been watching over you for weeks; not once have you had trouble sleeping; every night when I'm here with you, you've fallen asleep like a baby full off milk. Smoking this can cause brain-" 

You stopped talking as you realized what you just said. He didn't wait for you to continue, and he stood up, putting all his weight on the chain as he pushed himself off the bed. He starts walking, and you let him pass with a word as he heads to the bathroom. 

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

You haven't talked to Tommy all day, you've been avoiding him, and you're unsure what to say. 

You've walked past his room a couple of times, and every time you peak in, it's like he can sense you cause he immediately stops what he's doing and turns to catch your eyes. You quickly turn away and rush off to do nothing, nowhere. 

Nightfall came, and you couldn't go home; you didn't want to. 

You walked towards his room slowly; you were nervous.

You enter the room and is relieved as you see Tommy asleep; you pull up a chair next to the bed. You rest your legs against his bed as you slide down in the chair, trying to get comfortable; you close your eyes as you try to call to sleep.

"The bed would be more comfortable."

If he could see in the dark, he would definitely know that you're awake. Your body practically flinched at his statement; your eyes remained closed, though, too scared of what you might see when you open them. 

You lay as still as possible, hoping that he would think you were sleeping.

"You can sleep there if you want, but if you don't," he trailed off as he pulled back the blanket and made space for you.

You remain quiet not because you still want him to think you sleep but because you don't know what to say or what to do. Getting in bed with him would be highly inappropriate; he's your patient, and you're his nurse.

But your body was already starting to hurt from this chair, and the night had barely begun, and besides, it was just sleeping. 

You crack your eyes open to get a quick look and find Tommy already lying back down with the covers still thrown over, making a spot for you; you get up slightly before sitting back down; you couldn't do this; there's no way you should just g- 

You got up so quick that you didn't even realize that you had started to walk towards the side of the bed where Tommy had made space for you; you slipped your shoes off as you slowly crawled into the bed. 

You were glad that Tommy had his back towards you; you couldn't even begin to imagine what might happen if he watched you crawl up next to him. 

You lay down, slipping your legs under the covers as you pull the top half over your body. You also decide to lay with your back towards Tommy, leaving plenty of room between the two of you. You snuggled up in the cover and let out a sigh of relief as the aches your body felt started to go away. 

You close your eyes and again called out to sleep.

You felt the bed shake, and you froze.

You were already warm, but now you felt hot.

Tommy had pressed up against you and put his arm around your waist, tugging you back closer to him, 

"Tommy wh-"

"Shhh," he whipped softly. 

He had nuzzled his head in between your neck. He molded his body to fit yours. You just lay there, unsure of what to do, but as soon you realized that his body stilled and his breath evened out, You knew that he was sleeping and that you were stuck. You lay there for what seemed like forever till, eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you fell asleep.

Week 10:

Things between you and Tommy were…… something. It wasn't awkward, but a lot of things went unsaid. You were grateful for the lack of conversation; nothing ruins the moment more than asking what this was. Though you fought it at first, now you can't imagine a night that doesn't end with you in his arms. To say you're conflicted doesn't even come close; every night, you're one step closer to doing something you can't come back from, something that would be hard to regret. 

Week 11:

You were trying to do paperwork at the nurse's station when you heard your name being called by a fellow nurse; you looked up, giving her your full attention.

"Mr.Shelby refuses to let me give him a bath and request that you come see him." 

"Ummm, ok, thanks." You slowly get up and head toward Tommy's room

Tommy hurt himself a couple of days ago. Because of his incident, he required help doing things like using the restroom, putting on clothes, and showering. You had helped him with the clothes but had been off shift when help with the other things was requested. 

You entered the room and headed to the bathroom, seeing as you didn't see him anywhere; once you entered, you saw him sitting in the tub with his back facing you. As you slowly walked closer to him, you saw that he was smoking; as soon as you were in his peripheral, he turned his head to meet your eyes. He took a long drag as he looked you up and down; you stood there uncertain, hopping from foot to foot; your discomfort was written on your face, clear as day. You couldn't help it; Thomas Shelby was sitting In front of you in a bath, fully naked. 

"You asked for me?" He just looked at you, eyes skimming your body repeatedly as he finished his cig. 

"Doc says I need help, can't do much, hate to tear my stitches." 

"And what was wrong with the other nurse?"

"I don't know her." he struggled his shoulder and put the cig out, looking up at you. 

You tried to take a deep breath, but it got cut short once you remembered the situation you were in. Your throat felt as if it was closing with every step you took toward him. Your hand fidgeted by your side, grabbing your dress and trying to ground yourself. You took one final breath as you reached him. 

Deciding you couldn't look him in the face, you got behind him on your knees. He sat up straight in the tub, and you reached towards the wall to grab the sponge from the hook. You dipped the sponge in the water and started washing his back. 

It was painfully quiet; all you could hear was the water splashing and your shaky breaths. 

You finished with his back and put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards you.

 You're so close that his back rests against your chest; you press your hand to his chest to keep him in place as you continue to wash his chest. 

He stares up at you, but you keep your eyes focused, 

because your eyes are glued to his chest, you can't help but notice the scars littered across it. 

You let go of the sponge and began to trace every scar that you see across his chest, 

You know there's a story behind everyone 

And you want to hear it. 

Suddenly, he reaches up and grabs your hand; your eyes snap up to look at his, and his eyes dart down to your lips before looking back at you. 

You were barely breathing before, and you're certainly not breathing now.

He let go of your hand and reached up to grab your face; he brushed his thumb across your cheek before pulling you in. 

Your lips brushed against his playfully, almost as if you were hesitant,

But you weren't 

You crashed your lips into his

He grabbed your head in between his hands, pulling you closer. His lips were rough against yours, and he tasted slightly of tobacco, but you didn't care.

You were close but felt the need to be closer. You reached your hand down in the water and grabbed him; you gave him a slight squeeze before stroking him. 

His cock twitched in your hand, and his breath hitched. 

 He let go of your face as his head fell against the rim of the tub; his breath quickened as you increased your pace and bent down to kiss his chest and up his neck. 

You stop at his jaw, nibbling along it before going back down to the base of his neck and slowly licking up; you lick up till you reach his lips, pausing and hovering above them. 

You slow down your pace and stroke him slowly as you kiss him.

Suddenly, Thomas places his hand on top of yours, stopping your movements; he pulls your face back from his and just stares at you. 

You're not sure what the look is, but the feeling in your stomach tells you it's not good.

You pull your hand away from him and sit back on your knees. 

He gives you a look over once more before clearing his throat and turning away from you.

He grabs a cigs and lights it before putting his head back and closing his eyes.

You just sit there.

You look down at the floor, your eyes shifting back and forth as your eyes begin to fill up with tears.

Your throat starts to burn as you hold back your tears.

You get up almost in a panic; you refuse to cry in front of this man. 

You walk out of the bathroom, and you don't run. 

He can't know. 

The door barely closes behind you before you let the tears fall. You wipe your face fast with your hands. 

Your walk slowly turns into a jog before you start running towards the nearest bathroom. 

You push open the door, shutting it and locking it behind you.

You take deep breaths to calm yourself down; words can't describe how you feel. 

Why

Why

Why.

Millions of reasons and insecurity raced through your head, you felt sick to your stomach. 

You've never felt so stupid in your life; of course, ...... of course, he would never. 

You kept saying to yourself, but you couldn't even think of a real reason as to why. 

You felt someone knock on the door and yell something, but you weren't listening; you were trying to get out of your head.

You pushed yourself off the door and walked towards the mirror. You gripped the side of the sink as you stared yourself down. 

You took one last deep breath before standing straight and fixing your hair and clothes. 

You grab a couple of paper towels, cleaning your face up. 

You stand there looking at yourself in the mirror, making sure you look presentable. 

You nodded towards yourself before heading out of the bathroom and back towards your station. 

You sit back at your desk and begin some paperwork. 

The rest of your day goes smoothly, Thomas never rings, and you never go in there. 

You finish up your day and head home. 

Once you arrive home, you grab the bottle and take it to bed with you. 

You lay in the bed, all bundled up, taking the occasion swing of your drink.

Staring at nothing. 

Till you fall asleep 

Week 12:

You haven't seen Thomas since that night.

Not because you've been avoiding him, but when you came to work the next day, he was gone.

An overnight nurse said he checked out a little after you left. 

You don't know how you felt about that, honestly. 

You aren't conflicted between feeling happy or sad about it.

Honestly, you feel sorta relieved, 

Now you don't have to decide whether you could be with a man like him. 

You felt free, 

from him 

And from being honest with yourself about how you feel about him. 

The only thing that you know for sure is that you'll pray that you never run into Thomas Shelby again. 

Because honestly—

Despite everything

You're still hooked.

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

Tag List:

@fannibalsrule @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts

[thoughtfulchaos773]

Carmy's anxiety

My favorite thing to obsess over and that I don't write about enough is the show's depiction of anxiety and Carmy's struggles with it as his anxiety creeps into his ability to make decisions.

With anxiety, there's a lingering doom that you'll make the wrong choice, and it's paralyzing. Also, with decision-making, there's the fear that the decision could hurt someone. Along with the discomfort that everything will fall on you. You'd rather someone else make the decisions because if the other shoe drops well, it's not your fault.

We see this anxiety and the inability to make decisions specifically with claire.

In episodes 1 and 2, Carmy starts making progress in managing his anxiety. He's beginning to understand how his brain tends to focus on feelings of dread rather than joy. Despite his distress, he agrees to help Sydney get the star. He's consistently going to al-anon, and we also learn that Carmy's family inadvertently affected his ability to experience joy, which has contributed to his ongoing struggle with anxiety. Carmy also shares some mindfulness techniques for managing it, such as staying present, focused breathing, and reminding himself that everything is okay. But, this mindfulness is interrupted when Claire calls him, and his anxiousness is through the phone as he struggles to make decisions about whether to tell Claire that he can't go out and instead needs to be with Sydney.

Since getting involved with Claire he has been avoiding making decisions, delaying them, and putting everything on Sydney. He even let Claire make the choice for the chaos menu. It's easier for him to have Richie, Mikey, and Fak tell him how to feel about Claire rather than coming to his own conclusion. Because what if he doesn't make the right decision? What if he hurts her? What ifs... what ifs - dread.

I don't believe it's Claire's fault or that she has any nefarious intentions. I think one part of her role is to show what it's like to function in a stressful job without suffering from anxiety, while Carmy is dysfunctional. She seems out of place because the audience is following characters who are barely holding on while trying to live out their passion and purpose while being kind to each other, all while processing their trauma.

For claire, it seems too easy and that she doesn't need to wait for the other shoe, and it's weird to witness.

Although not evil, there is something about Claire triggers Carmy's alarms/anxiety to go off, and it could be the past. It could be Mikey. I just wonder if season 3 will we get more understanding of Claire's role in Carmys story, and will Carmy finally make a decision?

[underdark-dreams]

Hello! I would first like to thank you for getting me into the Rolan boat, this arrogant emotionally-constipated (affectionate) wizard has taken over my mind and he is all I think about now.

That being said, I was wondering if you would be able to do a rolan x tav like a few years or even a decade into their relationship? Does settling into Sorcerous Sundries and becoming a better mage make Rolan softer? How is he connecting with the rest of the magic community (I am personallya Rolan and Gale rare books reading club supporter) What would be some of the major long term disagreements in their relationship and how do you think they would work through it? What would this man's ideal 'happily ever after' look like?

Thank you so much!

This was great food for thought! 🖤 Thank you so much!

I kind of want to work on future Rolan x Tav as its own little standalone fic, because that idea is so sweet—but here are some headcanons on that & all these other what-ifs. Apologies that they're a bit jumbled, I can't concentrate when Rolan

Rolan loves his tower! He definitely feels the weight and responsibility of being the new steward for all this collected research and knowledge. But he also loves that he can go through his books and satisfy his curiosity whenever he wants, after so long yearning for someone to teach him and nurture his magic. He learns to do that for himself

I think the big thing that will soften and kind of humble him over the years will be once he accepts that personal growth will never stop. There is not a mystical point X where he could stand and say, did it, I have reached the pinnacle of archwizardry. He learns how to stop rushing forward and enjoy other things in life, most of all his relationship with Tav.

Once all the Absolute business is finally settled, Rolan will definitely want to lock that down. It doesn't need to be a legal marriage per se, but he is extremely committed to the relationship & wants the same from them. If he had his way Tav would have moved in yesterday. He's ready to wake up next to them for the rest of his life. Buys a house in the city right beside his old place where Lia and Cal still live & can't wait to merge his found family with his new family. His happily ever after is being surrounded by the people he loves and watching them thrive, especially when it's because of him. Having the capacity to care for Tav and Cal and Lia makes him incredibly fulfilled.

Some big potential sources of conflict in his and Tav's relationship:

Jealousy and insecurity. Rolan has some deep abandonment issues from his past, so if he ever felt like Tav was straying emotionally or making him jealous on purpose, that would really hurt his trust. Deep down he needs to know they love him, and hear it once a day preferably

Control issues/willfulness. Older brother mode activated. Rolan likes to do things his way and is very stubborn and proud about conceding to others. He does see Tav more as his equal, unlike his little siblings, but it's hard for him to translate that into actions. There will be a lot of fights over any big decisions where he & Tav disagree. Part of working through it would probably mean Rolan confronting why he needs to control things so badly (growing up without much control over anything in his life maybe? Hmm). He would genuinely benefit from therapy & from learning how to translate all his feelings into constructive words. Being with someone who would stand up to him would really benefit Rolan in the long run, though.

In the magical community: He's got a reputation as a rebel amongst the wizarding community, because 1) he's very much self-taught which is pretty unusual, and 2) not everyone approves of how freely he hands out information about the Weave, casting, etc to the curious younglings who visit his tower. Of course he'd never let anyone get into anything too powerful unsupervised, but after his experience with Lorroakan and realizing that this famed so-called archmage was actually just an idiot who stole everything from more powerful mages, he's like. The strict apprentice system can kinda get fucked honestly. He just doesn't agree that the basics of magic should be kept behind lock and key. Becomes a sort of magical literacy advocate. Let the children read

You might be surprised at how patient this man can be with children by the way! Lots of little magical prodigies hanging around Master Rolan's tower whenever he lets them. He'll kind of scowl to intimidate them into behaving themselves, but inside he loves to see curious minds reading and learning. As a primarily self-taught wizard, he also has an excellent grasp of pedagogy and how to describe concepts in a way a beginner would understand. He puts together his own beginner's magical textbook over the years. Holding the first printed copy in his hands is probably one of the proudest moments of career

To Rolan, Gale's reputation definitely precedes him at first—even before the events at the Grove he knew the name Gale of Waterdeep. Rolan is younger and admires Gale's skill a lot, so in the beginning of their professional relationship he's a bit intimidated. But you know Gale, he is friendly and endearing from the get go. Rolan often thinks if he'd had a teacher like Gale in his youth, he could have nurtured his magical skills much earlier.

Definitely, definitely also subscribe to the Rolan/Gale book club! They become kindred spirits in that regard over the years. Gale makes a visit to Rolan's tower to inform him of this fascinating manuscript that has just surfaced in Evereska, and Rolan is like "Really? I thought the Fae destroyed that centuries ago…" and the two of them just sort of wander off in conversation. Not to reappear for hours. Probably plotting like naughty children over a bottle of wine about how they are going to get their hands on the Ancient Forbidden Book without Tav finding out

[2baddiesfanfics]

I'll Catch You When You Fall From Grace

Pairing: Furina x Arlecchino

Tags: Rescue, Rescue Missions, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

In the aftermath of Furina's fall from grace as the Hydro Archon, she faces the challenges of adapting to a mundane human life. As she navigates the complexities of being a regular citizen, she learns that with former fame comes potential danger. When she finds herself in trouble, who will be there to answer her call for help?

Read on Ao3

It had been nearly a year since Furina had fallen from grace as archon and began living her life as a normal human. The events of her trial had come and gone, and she was trying her best to adapt to the mundane banality of what it took to make her way in the world not as the God of Hydro, but as plain and simple Furina.

“Lady Furina…”

“Neuvillette, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you. It’s just Furina now. There’s no need for formalities. I’m no different than any other citizen of Fontaine.”

“Fine. Furina. You must listen to me. Just because you are no longer archon, it doesn’t mean you can go about your business and throw caution to the wind,” he chastised as he threw down that morning’s copy of The Steambird.

“Have you seen the front page today? I’m doing my best to bring these criminals to justice, but few seem to respect me as much as they once revered you.”

She had indeed heard the rate of petty crime had increased in the wake of her reign. Chalking it up to the growing pains of a nation looking to find its footing once more, Furina didn’t have time to worry about maybes and what-ifs. It wasn’t her fault the only time she could take care of her errands was after the sun went down. In a way, she was still a celebrity and found it awkward and difficult to turn people’s requests for a photo or autograph down.

“I sincerely appreciate your concern, oh great Hydro Sovereign,” she said with a sad smile. “But I need to learn how to navigate my new normal now. I’m tough. I’ve been through so much this past year I’d feel sorry for the sad sap who decided to test me on my weekly grocery run. Please. Take heart. I’ve got this.”

Neuvillette heaved a heavy sigh. “I understand that, Lad-…Furina. But I need you to be about your senses, do you understand me? I cannot always be there to protect you.”

She gave his hand a reassuring pat. “I’ll do my best, friend. Now if you’ll excuse me, macaroni is on sale today and I’d be livid if I got to the food merchants after they closed up shop for the day. Good day.”

Furina exited his office, waving to the few remaining melusines on duty, and promptly realized she had left her wallet at home. Cursing herself, she made her way back to her apartment in the dark, streetlights flickering with a flame that made her heart flutter.

Surprisingly the first person to come visit her after all was said and done was the Knave. Now that she had nothing to hide from Arlecchino, she was no longer frightened by her. What was the worst she could do? The answer, as it turned out, was fall in love. Furina was tired. Tired of the theatrics. Tired of putting on a show. Tired of pretending to be something - someone - she was not.

It had started as nothing more than a one-night stand. The Knave was in Fontaine on business and Furina was lonely. She had come to apologize for how she had treated her without knowing the full story. The former archon was desperate to feel something, anything, and Arlecchino carried herself with such confidence there was no way she could fight the desire to let someone else take control for a change.

Standing in the sparse glow of the window of her apartment, she felt her cheeks warm as she remembered the events of that night. How big her hands were compared to her own. The way she held her with such grace while still vigorously taking what she wanted. The heat of her lips searing into her skin, her teeth marking her possessively.  She swallowed hard as she replayed the events like a film in her head.

And then everything went dark.

Arlecchino sat in her office at the House of the Hearth, a steady throbbing growing in both of her temples. Physical work was fine. She actually relished any chance she got to shadow those who were of interest to the Fatui. What she couldn’t stand was paperwork. So much so it tended to pile up on her desk when she was out doing said physical work.

The scratch of her pen as she signed her name time after time after time was starting to drive her mad. Her hand moved on autopilot, her head elsewhere. How she wished the sound could be replaced by the sweet innocence of Furina’s whimpers caused by her touch. The way she looked at her with those doe-like eyes so trusting and vulnerable. Her mouth moving on hers so eager to learn and please.

The nib of her quill was finally disrupted by the slam of her study doors. The Knave looked up angrily, her eyes burning with irritation. She had specifically requested she not be bothered unless it was a life-or-death situation.

“Lynette…I thought I told you-“ The look on the girl’s face took her aback. She was never one to get overly emotional about, well, anything.

“Father! Lady Furina’s been kidnapped!”

The irritation borne from interruption had evolved into pure rage. “…what?”

“Lyney and Freminet just came back from shopping and said officers were stationed everywhere. They ran into Clorinde and she said they’ve been searching nonstop!”

Snatching her cloak from the rack behind her chair, she rushed out of the office without a word.

————————

Furina could hear the deep whispers of her captors as they discussed plans she couldn’t quite make out. She concentrated on regulating her breathing as she tried to remain calm. Without a vision, she was powerless. Never had she lamented her lost status as archon until now.

The back of her head was tender. One clean hit and she went under. Straining her senses, she tried to determine through sound, smell, and feel where they could have possibly taken her. The distant crash of waves and the salty scent of the sea hinted at the fact she must not be too far from home.

Surely they’ve noticed I’m missing by now…right? Someone…Neuvillette, Clorinde, even Navia…certainly someone must have sensed something wasn’t right.

Immediately she jumped to the conclusion her life was over. Perhaps it was overzealous fanatics who felt betrayed after they discovered the truth about her godhood. Regardless of whatever the situation was, there was no way she was making it out of this alive. And then…her frantic thoughts were interrupted by an earthshattering explosion.

Bloodcurdling screams echoed through what she could only guess was a cave by the ocean. What she heard next made her heart soar.

“Don’t you fucking touch her, you piece of shit!” She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Even after only one night, the unique timbre of Arlecchino’s words shook her to her core. The Knave snatched one of the men by the collar of his shirt.

“Please! Please, no! Have mercy! We only thought we might be able to get some ransom money for her. I swear to the archons we haven’t done anything to her!”

“Shut the FUCK up you useless excuse for a human being,” she spat venomously. “I don’t give a damn what your plan was. Where. Is. She?”

“Just a bit deeper. Keep going, we’re not hiding anyth-“ His answer was cut short as she bashed his head against the wall.

“A-Arlecchino? Is that you?” As hard as she tried to keep her voice steady, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking. “Arlecchino! Please! Help! I’m here! Hurry!”

Swift footfalls thudded against damp stone. The Knave gingerly undid the knot of her blindfold, careful to avoid her injury, and her vision exploded with light. Her tears obscured the face of her savior.

“Furina, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re ok. Nobody’s left,” she explained. Under her breath she muttered, “I made sure of it.”

She tumbled forward into her arms, her tiny, frail body shaking. If the Knave had gripped her any harder, she feared she might break her. “H-h-how? How did you find me?”

Arlecchino let out a wry chuckle. “My dear,” she said as she propped her chin up so she’d look her in the eyes. “I’m a Fatui Harbinger. Do you honestly think anything gets past my network of informants? Now, there will be plenty of time for questions later. Let’s get you home.”

——————

Back at the House of the Hearth, Arlecchino reported to Clorinde the coordinates of the hideout where she had discovered Furina. Closing the door behind her, the sound of the special forces marching off trickled away. The Knave turned to face her.

“Thank you…for saving me,” Furina murmured.

“No need to thank me, Droplet,” she said with a tenderness that surprised the former archon. Arlecchino winced noticeably as she made her way closer. While she was an accomplished and fearsome fighter, her emotions had gotten the better of her this time around and she had suffered a few hits due to the distraction of her search.

“You must let me tend to your injuries,” Furina chastised as she pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.

“That’s not necessary. Just a few scratches. I’ll have Lyney assist me later.”

Furina pouted, her blue eyes shimmering intensely. “I insist. It’s the least I can do.”

The Knave let out a sigh of “fine” before shedding her coat and doing as she was asked.

The girl tended to the scratch on her face, carefully cleaning the area and placing a small bandage to mitigate any risk of infection. Arlecchino could feel her fingers trembling as her adrenaline was still in overdrive from the earlier encounter. While she’d never take advantage of her vulnerability, the Knave would be lying to herself if she had said she didn’t find her defenselessness arousing.

“Oh, your leg!” Furina pointed to a stain on Arlecchino’s slacks. A light blush colored her cheeks. “Would you mind removing these so I can patch you up?”

The Knave swallowed reluctantly. Allowing someone else to be in command was an entirely new sensation. Her heart pounded in her chest. Unzipping her pants, she slid them down and stepped out of them. The former archon once again treated the area with shaking hands.

Grabbing Furina’s wrist (perhaps a bit too tightly), she calmly stated, “Furina, darling, you’re safe now. Please…try to calm down. I’ve told the police force everything and ensured I…eliminated any immediate threat.”

Arlecchino looked her in the eyes and was perplexed by the emotions she sensed. Wait…this isn’t fear…this is…

Her contemplation was interrupted by a soft pair of lips attacking her own. There was no sign of hesitation in her movements as her mouth collided against hers. “Archons…I want you…so badly Knave…”

Fuck self-control. Arlecchino growled in response as Furina deepened the kiss. Her lips danced clumsily down her neck, the Knave tilting her head to give her clearer access. “Droplet…are you sure?” She asked breathlessly.

Furina moved to straddle her lap. “Yes,” she breathed before crashing into her once more. Sliding her tongue across the Knave’s, her nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt.

“Would it kill you to dress a little less, oh I don’t know, fashionable? Too many fucking buttons,” the girl huffed between kisses.

Arlecchino chuckled in response. “My, it’s certainly easy to get you riled up, hmm? Next time I’ll keep the jacket on and make you really work for it.”

Heaving a sigh of relief as she undid the last latch, Furina tossed the shirt aside and trailed her lips to her breasts. She savored the taste of her skin, licking her nipple and then blowing cool air across it to get it to rise.

Her hand slid down Arlecchino’s toned stomach and into her lacy black panties. Tracing her lips, she gathered her arousal on her fingertips and glided them gently across her clit. The Knave bucked her hips in response to Furina’s delicate touch.

“Seems I’m not the only one the adrenaline was getting to,” Furina chuckled as she brought her soaked fingers to her lips and sucked.

Arlecchino moaned in response to the wanton action. What’s gotten into her? Surely she hasn’t had much practice...The thought of anyone else laying a finger on her made her seethe with jealousy. Although they had only been together like this once before, Furina was different this time and it was driving her mad with lust.

She hopped off her lap and dropped to her knees in front of her, slowly spreading her legs to kneel between them. Gingerly kissing the scratch on her thigh, the Knave flinched before she felt her move to do the same on the other. Furina pulled her panties to the side before swirling her tongue on her sensitive bud.

“Ah…Furina!” She stifled herself from letting out an embarrassingly loud moan through gritted teeth.

Pleased with the response, she continued to suck as she slid two fingers into her. Arlecchino bucked against her face in rhythm with her movements. Sliding her hands into Furina’s hair, she pulled her as close as she could. The former archon could feel her contracting against her, pulled out her fingers, and replaced them with her tongue. Grabbing the Knave’s hips, she drew her closer as she darted her tongue in and out of her. With a few more thrusts, the woman crumbled under Furina’s ministrations.

Slick covered her face as she watched Arlecchino breathe heavily. Her gaze snapped back to Furina’s and there was something about the situation that made the girl feel as if she were a rabbit cornered by a starving wolf.

“While that was delightful, you must tell me - where did you learn to do that? Surely you haven’t been using your newfound freedom to go around fucking anything you please?”

Furina was taken aback. “H-how could you think that? I only wanted to thank you for what you did. And for your information - not that it’s any of your business - I haven’t been with anyone since that night…”

Arlecchino relaxed noticeably. Get ahold of yourself, woman. You didn’t have an agreement of exclusivity. She’s an adult and can do what she wants.

A peal of high-pitched laughter echoed through the room. “Oh my archons! Are you…you’re jealous, aren’t you? Oh, that’s rich!” She grabbed her stomach as she tried to stop herself from cackling. “The big, bad Fatui Harbinger is afraid I might have learned a few tricks from someone else, hmm?”

The Knave stood abruptly and gripped her by the neck. “I’ll take that to mean you’re just well-read. Perhaps some new light novels imported from Inazuma? You must have a lot of time to kill now that you’re free.” She forced the girl to walk backward until she was caught between her and the bookshelf in her study.

“Let me make myself clear,” she whispered, deadly serious. “You. Are. Mine.” Wedging her leg between the girl’s thighs, Furina panted heavily. “You say you want to thank me? Then be a good girl and fuck yourself.”

“…w-what?”

“Did I stutter, Ms. Furina? You’ll shove your panties to the side and ride my thigh until you come while I watch. Understood?”

Furina swallowed hard before nodding her head. Lifting her skirt, Arlecchino was rewarded with the sight of sky-blue silk lingerie. She licked her lips hungrily as the girl moved them, a wet line already staining the front and dripping onto her exposed skin.

She’s not fooling anyone. She wants to be wanted. I’m simply giving her what she needs.

“Very good. Now…move,” Arlecchino commanded.

Furina began to rock back and forth against her while keeping eye contact. The steady rhythm she created moved in time with their breathing, connecting them in a way so intimate it made the Knave shutter. It was her turn to feel fear…the fear of ever having to share her with anyone else. Furina was submitting herself, obeying completely. It was like a drug to Arlecchino and she would never be able to live without it again.

The Knave closed the distance between them, capturing her lips. Furina moaned into her mouth as she increased the speed of her hips. The groan the Knave let out betrayed her feelings as she bit her bottom lip.

“Fuck…Knave…are you…happy now?”

“I won’t be happy until I possess you, body and soul,” she replied, her hands now gripping her hips. Arlecchino took over, moving her at a pace she alone controlled. “Didn’t I tell you you’re mine? You’ll come when I say you can.”

Furina whined in frustration. “Please…”

“Please what, Droplet? Ask properly.”

“Please…Father.”

Arlecchino almost forgot to breathe.

“Good girl. Lose control. You have my permission.”

Her hips jerked wildly, bringing her to orgasm fast and furiously. Spent, she collapsed against the Knave. Arlecchino lifted her small body with ease and brought her to the bedroom adjacent to her study. Laying her down on the plush mattress, she covered her with blankets Furina surmised must have cost more than what she personally made in at least a month.

Kissing the top of her head, the Knave stroked her hair as she sat next to her. “You’ve had quite the day. I think it might be best for you to get some rest now.” She was surprised to feel the former archon’s hand reach for hers.

“I think I’d be able to rest better if you’d join me. Am I not yours now?”

An uncharacteristically warm smile graced the woman’s lips. “Touché, Droplet. I suppose I could use some sleep myself. It’s not every day one rescues an archon, after all.”

“Former archon,” Furina corrected her somberly.

Arlecchino looked deeply into her eyes, as blue as the Fontainian ocean. “You’ll always be my archon, Furina.”

[lovegoodskies]

curious a/n: written for the @wolfstarbingo2024 (prompt: Peter Pettigrew)

Harry sees an old photo.

ao3

“Don’t forget to unpack that box,” Remus told Sirius as he picked another box up. “Before Harry comes back.” 

Sirius nodded, and Remus left the room. Sirius stared down at it, a burning sensation behind his eyes. While he was in Azkaban, he lost everything—his sanity, his closest friends, his family. Remus managed to keep hold of some of the only happy memories they had left from years ago. 

The two promised each other they would show Harry the items inside one day. Unsure of when they kept it hidden, Harry was now living with them instead of the Dursleys. After Sirius’s innocence was proven at the end of Harry’s third year at Hogwarts, the two could take him in. Sirius refused to let him go back once he learned how they treated him. He was appalled and deeply hurt by it. He swore to himself, to Lily, and most of all James that he would protect Harry. Keep him safe and happy as long as Sirius still walked this life. 

That was two years ago, and Harry is happy and full of life. Remus and himself taught Harry about James and Lily. They answered anything he wanted to know, except for what really happened. They had no idea when Harry would finally ask them or what they would say exactly. It was sometimes hard for them still. Those days were a rare occurrence, though. 

The front door opened, and Sirius cursed quietly at himself. Harry walked into the room with a smile and a bag in his hand. The three of them lived currently in Diagon Alley. He was always wandering off and coming back with whatever he fancied. 

Sirius looked over, and a sad look washed over his face. Harry looked so much like James and acted like him a bit. It was hard to see him sometimes, but deep down, Sirius knew James wasn’t gone. Remus walked back into the room and made a startled noise. 

“Harry, son, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, and Harry pulled out a book he had bought to show them. It was one he was going to need for next year, but he had a few months before school started. The two of them were confused but ignored it. Harry was a strange child at times. 

Remus and Sirus knew that Harry was struggling to figure out what to do with his newfound free time. When he was with the Dursleys, he was made to do all their dirty work, so they never had to lift a finger. With Remus and Sirius, Harry simply was a kid. For the first time in his life, he could have a normal summer vacation. 

That evening, Sirius and Remus sat together on the couch. Both were tired, but they wanted to enjoy some time together. Harry was up in his room, or so they thought. Sirius lifted his head from Remus’s shoulder as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

“Sirius? Remus?” 

“In here, son,” Sirius said. Harry walked in and sat across from them. They noticed that Harry had something in his hand—a photograph. They watched Harry fiddle with it before handing it over to them. It was a photo of a younger version of themselves. James and Peter were also in the photo. 

“I was curious what was in the box you had earlier, and this was the first thing I saw.” Remus and Sirius looked at each other and then Harry. “That’s him, isn’t it? Peter.” Sirius shook his head yes. Harry hadn’t seen a younger version of any of them. But he knew it had to be based on seeing his father. 

“Curious about him?” Remus asked. He wasn’t a foolish man. Remus knew that look anywhere. James had the same one on his face when he was confused. “It’s normal to be. I think about him a little bit every day myself.” That wasn’t untrue. But many of his thoughts related to many what-ifs that he had, and ones he never got answers for. Peter betrayed everyone that night. None of them would ever be the same again. 

“I just don’t understand why he did it.” 

Sirius sighed and stood up from the couch. He walked over, stood behind Harry, and placed a hand on his back. They truly didn’t have an answer as to why Peter did what he did. He was a coward who betrayed his family. Remus believes that Peter was cornered by the dark lord and forced to make a decision. Spare his life for the lives of James and Lily. Peter didn’t want to die. So he ratted them out, sacrificing their lives for his own. 

“Peter was a” Remus paused, “cowardly excuse of a man.”

“Don’t let him take up space in your mind, Harry. It’s definitely not an easy task. I know this, but he did an unforgivable thing to your parents and you. He betrayed them most unforgivably by letting  him know where your parents were.” 

Harry sat quietly for a moment, thinking over everything he knew and what he could piece together. He couldn’t understand why, and he was starting to think others couldn’t either. No one ever talked about it head-on. Calling Peter a coward was the most he ever heard. 

Sirius noticed the frustration on Harry’s face, and Remus came and sat in front of Harry. “None of us will ever know the true reason as to why. It’ll only eat you alive if you try and search for an answer.” 

[bibliophilicstranger]

Imagine an AU where Lily dies but James lives. Snape will be a dead man once James learns he technically was responsible for leaving him a widow and Harry without a mother

Snape is dead and James killed him, but there's no court in the land that will convict him for it, not when he used the Wizengamot as his murder weapon.

Sirius had wanted to do it himself. James had to physically and then magically restrain Sirius, who'd simply wanted to hunt Snape down and AK him, even if it was in the middle of Diagon Alley. Oh it was tempting but it would do Harry no good to have his father and godfather in Azkaban. Lily would have returned from the grave to kill them both.

No, it had been better to do it legally. To drag him before the Wizengamot, lay out his crimes (and oh, had they rooted into his life to find plenty, from illegal potions to specific acts committed as a Death Eater, before and after he'd turned to Dumbledore), and then deliver a carefully crafted plea for conviction as a man who'd lost his wife.

Even Dumbledore couldn't save him. Nothing he could say about Snape's past or reform could overcome his betrayal of a man who'd saved his life and a woman who'd done nothing more to him than try to be his friend before he'd repudiated all she was. Nothing fixed that he'd contributed to leaving the savior of their world motherless. Even the 'reformed' death eaters had to convict, the evidence was so strong.

(Dumbledore had tried to claim Snape loved Lily, that he'd actually tried to save her, but when it came out that he'd thrown James and Harry under the Knight Bus in exchange, that hadn't helped his case a whit.)

They sentenced Snape to the Veil. It had taken work to get that proposed by a seemingly neutral party. Even Bellatrix had gotten only life in Azkaban and she was as unrepentant as they came. But James and Sirius had wanted a more permanent solution. Death by the Veil was an ancient punishment, but one still on the books. The sentencing vote was narrower, teeth-grindingly narrow, but the Veil won.

James and Sirius are there for the execution, standing shoulder to shoulder. Sirius' expression is as black as his name; James' is no lighter. He doesn't regret saving Snape's life-not when Moony's would have been forfeit otherwise- but there are times he struggles to remember that. The what-ifs pull him under sometimes: what if he'd let Snape die, what if he'd never trusted Peter, never befriended Peter? Sometimes all he can do is lock himself away and sob, until the thought that Harry needs him drags him out again.

Snape's face twists into a snarl when he sees them, anger breaking through the dementor-heightened fear. His last words are insults but they slide off James without effect when Snape is forced through the Veil.

Dumbledore too is there, a disappointed, grandfatherly look on his face, but James can't bring himself to care. This doesn't feel sweet but it is a victory. The world feels a little safer with one fewer Death Eater in it, and James wants his son to be safe more than he wants anything else, including having Lily back. Harry is safe with Aunt Minnie right now, having a sleepover.

"I've got every type of alcohol there is, magical or muggle, back in the house," Sirius wraps an arm around James' shoulders. "Let's go get wasted."

"Yeah, alright," James agrees. Oblivion, if only for a few hours, beckons.

Tonight they'll get drunk and mourn.

Tomorrow they'll get Harry and go see Lily, lay flowers on her grave and catch her up on things.

And maybe the day after that James will figure out how to make the emptiness in his heart stop aching so much he thinks it will consume him alive. Maybe.

[malum-forev]

The Prodigal Son: Chapter Two

Pairing: Mafia!40's!Bucky x MobBossDaughter!Reader.

Prologue Chapter One

You tapped your nails on the white tablecloth, scooching your chair as close as you could to the edge of the table to avoid a waiter hitting the back of your head. You’d been taught to not draw too much attention to yourself.

But this is too much. You thought as a waiter’s tray barely cleared over your head. 

William had made the reservation, he’d obviously given his name, months ago. The place had been packed full ever since a popular jazz singer had been discovered at the restaurant. 

You could hear the jazz singer but you might as well be in a different zip code at this point. You huffed, considering leaving your boyfriend since he’d already been late but you soon felt a pair of lips on the back of your neck. 

“Gosh, William!” You jumped in your seat. “You just about gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry I’m late, Darling.” His blue eyes twinkled in the restaurant’s dim lighting but it wasn’t the same, it would never be the same.

You curled up under your bed, bringing your hand up to your mouth to stop your giggles from letting him know where you were hiding. 

“I guess no one is in here.” Bucky said, you could see his boots walking the length of his bed.

He stopped right where you were and sat on his bed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” 

One single giggle bubbled from your lips and his head close to yours. “Found you!”

Bucky dragged your body from under the bed and threw you over his shoulder. Bucky plopped you down on the living room couch, bringing his face close to yours. “When are you going to learn you can never hide from me.”

“One of these days I’ll win a game of hide and seek.” You laughed. 

Bucky’s lips twitched upwards, he brought his hands to your stomach. “You know what the punishment is.”

He looked at you, but not a simple glance. With one look you could feel every single emotion coursing through his body. In happy times like this one, his eyes almost turned clear. Only one thing running through his mind, joy. But you’d seen other times, where his mind was filled with problems and what ifs, his eyes looked like a turbulent sea. Waves crashing over and over on the rocky coast. 

Bucky tickled you until your stomach hurt from laughter. 

You shot up from your seat and William placed his hand on the small of your back.

“Have you come down with a fever.” He asked, bringing the back of his hand to your forehead. “I will ask for some water.”

You shook your head. “No need, I just need to visit the powder room.”

You evaded his body, his touch, as you hurried to the bathroom. You kept your eyes glued to the floor, concentrating on the beautiful music and the way your heels clinked on the veneer floor. But you were too much in your own world to notice when you found yourself clinging onto a wall of a man. Your heel had slipped on someone’s spilt drink, you were just about to fall to the floor when someone lifted you up. 

Thunderstorm, that was the first thing your brain registered. A deepened blue with rays ripping through the dark field. 

“Please say you’re okay, Princess.” Bucky’s husky voice sent shivers down your spine. 

His worried stare made you roll your eyes, suddenly anger filled your body. Were you angry that he- of all people- caught you before your fall? Were you angry that he was at the restaurant? Or were you angry at him?

“James” a posh voice came from behind him. “must you stop? People are staring.”

A pop of red looked at you from behind Bucky. 

You ripped your arms away from him. “I was just about to go to my table. Sorry for interrupting.”

Bucky finally saw William hidden in a corner next to the kitchen door. 

“Please, join us.” He gave a waiter a few hand gestures which effectively sent the people in the table next to his far away. 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make this a big deal.”

“I don’t think we’re allowed to do this.” The redhead hissed, annoyed that people from society were now gawking at the three of them.

Bucky made eye contact with William and flagged him over, you unintentionally cringed at the way your boyfriend- who you soon wished would turn into fiancé- ran over like a lapdog the second Bucky called. Whether it be out of fear or out of respect you didn’t know but it sure didn’t make you want him more. 

“Of course it’s allowed.” Bucky took out a check and slipped it into the waiter’s blazer pocket. “I just bought the place.”

“Will you be honest with me?” You looked at him through your lashes as you twirled the ice in your short glass.

“Always.” Said Bucky, not looking up from his notebook. 

“Is it wrong?” You asked quietly. 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed and relaxed twice.

“What you and my father do for work, is it bad?” You continued.

“Princess-“ Bucky sighed. 

You weren’t young, at least not young enough to not see what your family was doing, how people in the streets looked at you, how some even closed their stores as your father passed them. You’ve been wondering for a while why Bucky always came home late with dark stains adorning his custom-made suits. 

You brought your chair closer to him and lightly traced his knuckles. Bucky sucked in a deep breath as your delicate fingers made contact with the freshly healed skin. 

“Whatever you say,” You assured. “I won’t think of you differently.” 

“What we do,” Bucky was careful with his words. “is something to help the people who didn’t get a good deal in life. We help them, and helping is never wrong.”

You rushed to the door as you heard the doorbell, a nervous William thrusted a bouquet of flowers towards you. 

“I need to go back-“ he said flustered. “I should have gotten some for your mother but I forgot. Gosh how can I-“

You laughed, pressing your lips to his cheek. “Don’t worry, we’ll say you brought these for her.”

William nodded with a gulp, letting out a shaky breath as you guided him to the dinner table. 

Dinner was awkward and quiet, just like you’d expected it to be. 

“How are your parents?” Your mother asked your boyfriend, trying to find a way to ease into conversation.

“They’re-“ William tried but was quickly interrupted.

“I would appreciate if you reminded your father of the pending conversation I have with him.” Bucky said sternly, driving his knife into the steak with excessive force.

A bead of sweat dropped from William’s forehead as he nodded. 

“Can we not talk about work at the dinner table?” You pleaded.

Your father sighed. “My daughter tells me you work at the bank, financial consultant?”

Again, before William could answer, Bucky interrupted. “But you didn’t finish your college studies, did you?”

“You see, my mother was ill at the time so-“

Bucky hummed. “I would think you could work and study, if you had wanted to.” 

“Sir, I heard you’re quite a movie fanatic.” William looked your father in the eye. “They’re showing Casablanca in the theater and I’ve heard it’s quite the motion picture.”

Your father smiled at his attempt to make light conversation.

“You have time for movies I see.” Bucky said. “But not to study and work.”

You shot up from your seat. “May we be excused?”

Your father bit the inside of his cheek and nodded, waving you off. 

“Thank you for the lovely dinner.” William said as he followed you out the room.

Sometime later, after you’d escorted William out the back door. You heard someone walking towards your spot by the tree stump. 

“You were always terrible at hiding.” Bucky said in a light tone but it brought you no laughter. 

“I came here to be alone.”

Bucky sat down next to you. “You must know I only want what’s best for you.”

You scoffed. “You know nothing about what’s best for me.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.” 

“I’ve spent a long time listening to what you think is best for me, and I’m done with that.” You clipped your words. “Your advice has gotten me nowhere.”

“Everything I do,” Bucky looked at you. “I do for you, and you know that.”

“I used to believe that to be true, but now I don’t.” You stood up and walked into the house. 

You rushed from the kitchen out to the garden for the fourth time in an hour. You heels had been killing you but you were smiling through the pain. All the guests had arrived and you’d been told that the birthday boy would be here any second now. 

Before you all took your places, you took a few deep breaths in the mirror and fixed your hair. Your makeup had worn down from the day’s activities and the dark circles under your eyes had shown. 

After your twentieth birthday, and after a lot of begging, your father had finally agreed to you working in the family business. He decided the casino was the easiest place to start. You had completely underestimated what it was like handling one of the casinos. 

The manager, an old man, had been a constant pain in your ass. Always giving you wrong information, making you look sloppy in the monthly meetings, always flirting with you and making your job overall feel like hell on earth. 

But today wasn’t about you, it was Bucky’s thirtieth birthday and he deserved the big party you had planned. 

You heard his car approach and told everyone to hide, waiting until he came in to turn on the lights and yell happy birthday to him. 

Bucky came out to the garden and everyone surprised him. Well- it was safe to say the guests were the ones who were surprised. Bucky’s eyes widened and the unlit cigarette fell from his bloody mouth. 

His white shirt was covered in blood and his knuckles were badly bruised. 

You gasped and took his hand, leading him back inside. 

“Thank you everybody.” Bucky turned his head back. “Enjoy the party.”

You sat him down on your bed and brought back the first aid kit. 

“Princess, you should have told me you had something like this planned.” Bucky hissed as you pressed the soaked cotton ball to his cut lip. “I would have changed in the car.”

“That would have defeated the point of a surprise party.” You smiled. “How’d this even happen?”

Bucky shrugged. “Someone needed their manners reminded.”

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t worry yourself, Princess.” Bucky told you with a smile. “He’s still breathing.”

“I don’t need you fighting for me.”

Bucky shook his head. “No one is allowed to disrespect you. Not as long as I’m alive.”

You smiled to yourself as you tended to his wounds. 

You did your last check around the casino, getting ready to leave for the night but the light you’d previously turned off in your office caught your eye. 

You gripped the gun strapped to the top of your thigh as you entered the room, only to find Bucky half asleep at your desk.

You clutched the left side of your chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

He threw his head back on the chair with a loopy smile on his face. “My princess shouldn’t have anything near a heart attack.”

The empty bottle of whiskey gave you more than enough explanation as to why he was at your office this late at night. 

“C’mon,” You sighed, giving him a hand to help him up. “Let’s get you home.”

“Home.” Bucky chuckled with his eyes closed. “It’s not home without you.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I don’t have time for this.”

You came closer to him, trying to lift him up but all he did was wrap his arms at your waist, bringing his face to your stomach. You furrowed your brows as you saw his shoulders rise and fall. 

Bucky lifted his head, revealing his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You filled with worry. 

“What’s wrong?” You kneeled to be at eye level with him. 

Bucky brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “I want you, I need you.”

“Buc-“

“But the worst of all is I will never have you.” He hiccupped, a few more tears fell from his eyes. 

“Why do you do this to me?” Bucky continued. “Why if it’s so clear I cannot move on you continue to make it clear you will. You bring your boyfriend over and expect me not to hate him- hate the man you settle for. The man who cheats on you. I loathe him. That garbage of a man is what you think you deserve?”

“You think there’s a long line of men who want to be with me?” You whispered. “William is my only option.”

“Stop!” Bucky cried, lifting himself up from the chair. “I cannot keep being reminded of it- I don’t want to think that even if you don’t wed William, there will be another one.”

Bucky clutched your face in his hands. “I yearn for you, for you to give me even an ounce of love I know I don’t deserve. I’ll give you the world if you do, anything you want.”

Bucky stumbled and fiddled with his hand. Placing your family’s gold signet ring in your palm. 

“Please don’t settle for him.” Bucky begged. 

Please let me know if you guys like it! Remember to comment like and reblog! <3

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[lieslab]

The depths between: Chapter nine

Trigger warning: Animal death

Intro

Chapter eight

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Deep in the woods, it finally sunk in. It was a baseball bat to the pit of your stomach. You were on some sort of island all alone. You didn’t have another human around and the truth? You had no idea how to survive. 

Sure, you had learned about shipwrecks before becoming a crew member on the ship. You learned about survival, but you barely paid attention. It was rare, people had told you. The ship is so big and with radio signals and fellow boats, there’d be nothing to worry about. 

The ship had life vests and extra boats. Ever since the Titanic, and with the help of modern innovation, protocols were put into place. You knew how to help rescue someone who had fallen overboard, but you never thought it’d be yourself. You never thought you’d be the one lost at sea. 

Tropical plants were overgrown. Out here, they received plenty of sunshine and rain. You glanced around, but nothing caught your eye. Even if you managed to gather sticks to start a fire, you didn’t know how to. It was a lie, you knew how, but you didn’t have anything to start it with. 

Sure, you could try classic friction and rubbing two sticks together, but you doubted it. Felix was a siren who lived in the water. There’d be nothing to help you on his end. 

A siren. You blinked your eyes, trying not to cry. You tried to seem so put together, but it was so bizarre. Sure, you knew so much of the ocean was unexplored and you knew that people talked about them, but to know they truly existed? It was flabbergasting and beyond your capabilities of knowledge. 

Were you sure that you weren’t dead? The more you thought about it, the more it made your stomach twist. Stuck on a physical island and a metaphorical anxiety island, you were doomed. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach. 

Even if you wrote a signal for sos, how many planes had you seen on the cruise? Barely any. They all had their own paths and not every plane soared across the ocean, there was always a hint of danger. 

“It’s okay, just breathe,” you mumbled out loud. “You’re perfectly fine and just stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. Surely, someone will realize you’re missing and alert the captain. Someone will have to find you.” Your hands reached up and rubbed your face. 

In a time of terror, you needed to be optimistic, for your own mental sanity. If those what-ifs flooded in, you’d break down. You needed to focus on the positives and try to stay upbeat. Sucking in a deep breath, you were about to walk further into the forest when something slithered across your bare foot. 

In response, your foot jerked. A blur of green and a small hiss filled the air. When you saw the green begin to slither towards you, you shrieked, spun around, and ran for your life. 

On the shore, Felix was pinching the heads off shrimp. Maybe fish was a bad idea and shrimp were simpler. Without you being around, he was popping off the heads, consuming them, and placing the meaty tails in a pile. It was going well until your shriek caught his attention. 

He looked up with wide eyes to find you rushing from the treeline. Still screaming at the top of your lungs, you rushed across the sand and dived headfirst into the water. From the distance, Felix’s body tensed up. He waited for a person or an animal to rush out from behind you, but nothing happened. 

“Are you okay?” He called out and shifted to glance over at you. 

You were breathing heavily with your wet hair sticking to the sides of your face. You frantically shook your head and paddled in the water. 

“What happened?” 

“Snake!” 

His eyebrows furrowed and he pushed his pile of shrimp off to the side. “Did you get bit?” 

You shook your head and swallowed. “I don’t think so, it just…” You trailed off realizing how foolish you must have looked. You shut your eyes and let your body sink into the weightless water. “It scared me.” 

“As long as you’re not injured, that’s all that really matters. Did you find sticks for a fire?” 

“Screw that! I’m not going back there! That thing was huge!” You shivered just thinking about it. “It ran over my foot and I kicked it accidentally.” 

Felix had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. You must have been terrified, but your fear paired with the image of a snake soaring through the air made him want to laugh. What a sight it must have been to see. 

“Well, I’m sorry. Are you okay now?” 

“Yeah, but I suppose I’ll just lay here on the beach or whatever.” You sighed and began to swim back towards the shore. 

“I made you some shrimp! Well, it’s more like I collected them for you. They’re not cooked, but you can eat raw shrimp.” 

“Doesn’t that risk food poisoning?” 

“You are stranded on an island with nobody around. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” He shrugged and held up one of the pale pink creatures. “How bad could it really be?” 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Next part: Chapter ten

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Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

[effervescentdragon]

Bestie i was thinking of and hot take to disagree about but it's difficult we usually agree on literally everything!! I cannot come up with anything hahahahhaha. So i'll try to stay generic. If i exclude Lewis and Nando to me the strongest drivers are in this order:

Charles

Max

Lando

Yuki (he desperately needs a chance nobody wants to give, it's frustrating)

George/Carlos equally

About oscar.... Well, for sure i expected something more.... Idk how to define it tbh

That said idk, do you agree or not? Hahahahha

Ana i fucking adore you this is SUCH a good ask! Okay okay i think i see what you mean and i do agree to some extent, however not with it all!

Id put max above charles on account that he still has 3 wdcs, however charles has never driven a reliable car at the same time max did. So i think two of them are more evenly matched because of max's experience in a reliable and unreliable cars both, plus i think you become more certain in yourself after you win. I dk think charles is the only guy who can actually challenge max, which i am hoping happens soon, so charlie boy's generational talent doesnt flicker away into nothingness.

Now. As for the rest. I agree with lando actually, out of the british ot3 aka 2019 rookies id say lando has the most chance to win a wdc. HOWEVER. idk what these long years in mclaren have done to him. Lando drives more instinctively imo, and has more raw talent, but george is really, really good at calculations. I think georgie might end up being better than lando if he just learned how not to fuck up the moments when he lets instinct overtake. Idk if that makes sense. Idk if this will make sense but to me, lando drives kinda like.lewis drove at the beginning and george drives like nico did. Ifs just the vibes i get from them, and its not a 1:1 comparison at all, but thats the closest i can come to explaining what i mean with a similar case.

Yuki is the only guy that deserves a no.1 red bull seat out of their whole lineup (excludong max obvs) and their whole academy. I will die on this hill and idgaf who says what. I used deserve on purpose (hehe) because i think he is the only one who has the determination, the talent, and the je-ne-sais-quoi (its the bastard. the bastard gene) to be rbrs no. 1 driver. I will gladly fight anyone who disagrees. He also needs a more reliable car to prove that and when he gets it, imma be decked out in proper rb merch w tsunoda on my back :)

Carlos... see, the thing is. He is good. He is really, really good. Reliable too. But i just genuinely dont believe hes wdc material. Not when hes going against max and charles and hell, even lando and george. Thats the tragic part for me. Hes been told his whole life hes good, and he really is, but.. these guys are just better. I hope he can prove me wrong, i hope its just a series of bad decisions to drive for "bad" teams, but idk. Lets see what he does in the future.

As for oscar.. im excited to see what he will do. He is INSANELY good, ive watched him in f2 and caught some f3 highlights too, and genuinely if it wasnt for lando's primary position in mclaren, i think oscar will still, despite that, give him a run for his money. Bcs i think he can only improve for here bcs from what ive seen... oh boy. Genuinely. Oooooh boy. I am super excited to see if he lives up to his potential. I think that might be what youre missing w oscar, this like, fight for being the 1st driver. Which i think isnt possible w how tightly lando is entwined w mclaren. Maybe? Idk.

So id accelt your sorting grid actually, because all of my adjustments are based on the best performance of all the boys. But there is some room for shuffling there. In the end i did agree w you. Damn. We did it again 🙈💜

[thescrapwitch]

4, 14 and 27 for the fic writer asks!

asks from here

Thank you!

4. A story idea I haven’t written yet:

I'm sure no one will be surprised to learn that I have, like, a million ideas in my head that have yet to be written, so I can answer this one more than once :)

Bright Hearts of Numenor, also known as I will find a way to write a found family AU-fic set during the fall of Numenor featuring: a "reborn" (aka Sauron necromancy) child Celebrimbor who has no memories of his previous life, Tar-Miriel doing her best to navigate the viper nest the court has become, best dad Elendil finding himself the leader of a rebellion, Anarion deciding that Celebrimbor is perfect little brother material, and Isildur, who would love to take a fucking nap but his family keeps getting into danger and this magic sword he found named Anglachel will not shut up.

This will probably be another series, so I absolutely need to finish a lot more of my one-shots/multi-chapter fics before I commit to it. I don't like having too many long projects on the go at the same time (it stresses me out), but once I start I have some fun PLANS for these characters. Plus, it will be my first time writing a Numenor focused fic, so that'll be a fun challenge!

14. Where do I get my inspiration:

Lots of places! Daydreaming mostly, I like to listen to music as I walk and just let my brain run wild with possibilities. Throw the characters into "what ifs" and see what my brain does.

I find interacting with other people in the fandom give me some great ideas too. The Maglor is an Eldritch Horror series never would have gone past the first fic if one person hadn't asked if an overprotective, spooky Maglor meant that Celebrian might live. That sent my mind dreaming up what could happen, which lead to Lindir, which lead to almost 90k more words.

27. My favorite part of the writing process:

There's a moment I find when the fic starts to click. I'll be writing - and it takes me a bit to start, a lot of circling around the fic and writing nonsense lists in my notebook and trying to get comfortable - and finally I'll just sink into it. That doesn't mean that the words will always come easily, but I'll want to fight to get them out. I just sort of drop into whatever I'm writing and want to see it through to the end (or at least to the end of the scene). Its such a great feeling, watching the fic start to build, watching the sentences assemble into something you're proud of, fighting and then getting just the right line to end a fic on. Its so much fun and makes all the hard parts worth it.

[tasteleeknow]

not people being so distraught about reader and hyunjin not getting together that they are essentially missing the entire purpose of the series and the themes you are trying to explore? the character development arc between ALL THREE MAIN CHARACTERS is so crystal clear to me and has been from the start. do i think hyunjin and mc's dynamic is beautiful and wonderful? yes. in another world maybe they would have fallen in love. in another world maybe hyunjin would allow himself the opportunity to try to fall in love with someone who wasn't his soulmate. in another world where mc never did the soulmate test or met their soulmate and was rejected maybe hyunjin would have been who she ended up with. in another world WITHOUT MINHO. but we simply are not in another world in this fic. in this fic minho exists. in this fic minho is the catalyst for why hyunjin and mc ever met in the first place. in this fic minho is so deeply ingrained into the fiber of who hyunjin is that there simply was never a possibility where hyunjin would betray his closest friend and take minho's soulmate from him??????? like what series have they been reading?!?! especially when we know for a fact that this whole soulmate thing is IMPORTANT to hyunjin. important enough that even though his own soulmate died before they could met, he still went out of his way to force minho to sign up for the app because just because hyunjin was soulmate-less didn't mean he wanted minho to be as well. hyunjin has been for this union from the very start. even before MC and minho!!!!!!!!! even before he knew who MC was he knew that person would be important to minho and wanted them to meet. if you're a reader who is mad that hyunjin and reader aren't ending up together....i think you need to read the story again. because you've been reading wrong. you've deeply mischaracterized hyunjin. even if minho and mc decided to hate each other for the rest of their their lives. in this universe where minho was hyunjin's rock after his soulmate died....there was never ever ever ever a chance that hyunjin would do that to his best friend. if anything i think meeting reader was never romantic for hyunjin but more so healing. like getting to meet MC and getting to get to know her and getting to watch her interact with minho and slowly get closer. it was all a journey of healing his inner what ifs. what if i'd met my soul mate. what would she have been like. would we really have gotten along and been happy? etc etc. IDK SORRY FOR RAMBLING JADE BUT I HAD TO DEFEND HELLO STRANGER BECAUSE IT'S SO GOOD AND I FEEL LIKE PEOPLE ARE MISSING THE POINT!!!!! yes this is a romance series and a soulmate AU but iT IS ALSO SO MUCH MORE!!! justice for hello stranger minho!!!! justice for my new mr. darcy!!!!!!! SORRY NOT EVERYONE IS AS IN TOUCH WITH THEIR EMOTIONS AS HYUNJIN!!! IT SHOULDNT BE A SIN TO NOT KNOW HOW TO EXPRESS YOURSELF!!! HE IS LEARNING!!!! LET MY BOY LEARN AT HIS OWN PACE!!!! IT'S WHAT YOUR PRECIOUS HYUNJIN WANTS FOR HIM!!!! (also i'm saying this as someone who was willing to root for the poly route if you decided to go that way but i agree with you jade. reader x minho being endgame just thematically makes the most sense! the slowest and hottest of slow burns!!!!)

i love when you guys drop essays about my creation which is the best fucking thing i could ever ask for and then go 'sorry for rambling' like no please never shut up ever

i dont know how much to say without spoiling the ending before we get there ya know what i mean but so many of you really seem to be grasping the emotional complexity im trying very very hard to convey and its very very comforting for me so thank u for sharing, really