#i dreamt i had a baby once and i Understood. like i remember holding my baby and thinking I Get It Now. i Get It All now

[thatlittledandere]

I remember getting into Persona 4 and thinking man am I glad I don't find Dojima attractive. Well

[ruminate88]

How I got my start in life

I was born in August of ‘88. I had one older brother whom was 9 and a half years older than me. I had swallowed fluid and had the umbilical chord wrapped around my neck. My mom claimed she had an easy birth with me but I was born septic. I could not hold down any baby formula and therefore, I was not allowed to leave the hospital. My mother had to leave without me. Having that rough start in life made me behind others my age. I was very weak and once I made it to school, they were already labeling me. They suggested I be held back in kindergarten but my father wouldn’t accept my battles and insisted nothing was wrong with me and to push me into the 1st grade. It wasn’t until 2nd grade that school labeled me as one with a “Learning Disability” and I was then sent to the resource room with others like me and some even worse off than me. We were taught that we couldn’t read on our own without an aid read to us. We couldn’t test on our own nor did most of us feel capable of doing much on our own without an “adult” to help us. That label became my biggest battle and a mountain I never dreamt I could climb. The one silver lining for me, was that, my mother was told I could “out-grow” the disability but no one told me. I walked through my childhood feeling so “small” and “weak”. I was very afraid of so many things and sensitive too! If my mom or anyone at school raised their voice towards me, I would fall apart! Many occasions teachers or bus drivers had to raise their voices and it always made me nervous. I believe because this was such a trigger for me growing up, that’s why whenever I went through narcissistic abuse, it was somewhat normal for me but put me back in the negative mindset I had as a child.

Also at a very young age, I believe at about 5 years old, I began to “touch myself” constantly and although I had no clue what I was doing, I learned how to make myself pleasure. I did it repetitively, anywhere, even in front of family. My mother would insist I had to stop or I’d make myself sick!! I didn’t stop till I was probably in the 3rd grade? I can’t really remember. However, I knew something was wrong with me then. Other kids around me never did it and always questioned me why I did but I had no explanation other than I knew in my head that it “felt so good”. I started that sickly habit back up privately in the 5th grade when I started to have periods and become hormonal. By the 5th grade, I was getting very curious about “sexuality” and wanting to know how to have sex.

my father was always unaccepting of me “struggling” or “not being smart”. He did not fully accept how hyper I was or that I had any problems of any kind. Instead, he treated me the way he was treated. My father was of 7 kids. He grew up somewhat poor and didn’t get his way ever, as he had to share everything with his siblings. Me, only having one older sibling, I didn’t have to share hardly anything. My mother always gave me what I needed and even the things I wanted (within reason). My parents weren’t rich but we were middle class. Since I was born septic and was so small for my age, my mom was very protective of me and stayed very involved with my life, whereas, my dad, couldn’t accept my reality and he would even get defensive towards situations I had to face. He also gave me things I wanted since I was the only girl. I wasn’t a materialistic person though. I just wanted to be “understood” and “accepted”. I always believed stuff was wrong with me and I was different than normal kids.

Finally, I grew up in a huge family, with both my parents being born of 7 kids equally, I was surrounded by countless grandparents, aunts and uncles, and plenty of cousins to play with. My cousins always accepted me, however, there was moments they knew I was struggling but couldn’t understand or help me. Also, both sides of my family were all Christians and extremely empathetic and giving. I only grew up knowing to “put others before yourself”. Especially “weak and needy people” even though I was made to feel weak in school!!

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 4/?

Hey loves! Sorry it took so long for me to write part 4, I’ve had school and band. I like this chapter, so I hope you do too!

Word count: 1566

Warnings: Really un graphic violence, mentions of undiagnosed PTSD, OCD, and depression, and my inability to write good endings

The last 30 minutes on the Quinjet were pure hell. Tony kept trying to grill you, and you didn’t respond, which motivated him to ask even more questions.

Finally, he rolled his eyes and asked, “Where are your parents?”

Hundreds of locked-away memories flooded your mind. Your parents had sold you to HYDRA at age 5. You didn't know much about your parents or their identities.

After he asked about your parents, you broke eye contact and looked anywhere but into someone's eyes.

“I see.” Tony scowled but continued asking more questions, but you weren't in the mood, even more now than before.

You eventually drifted off into a daydream as Tony’s questions slurred together. You dreamt about what your life could've been if you had parents and weren't mutant. You could still have parents; you wouldn't have sustained all of that torture at HYDRA, and you would've gotten to go to school!

School, something many take for granted. You didn't have any higher education, and being 15 and more innovative and 99.99% of the world, it was a moot point. Still, being among everyday people, having friends, and discovering your passions, would be amazing.

Snaps in your face brought you back, courtesy of Tony.

“Kid. Kid! Hello?” He snapped in your face.

You had returned to Earth and- hey, look at that! Tony is within head butting distance. Maybe it'd get him to shut up, or would Loki attack again? He was staring at you from the back of the jet, unmoving, eyes trying to predict your following movements.

“KID!” Tony shouted.

You'd had enough of hearing him in your face, so you turned back to him, made eye contact, and-

“Don’t do that, girl.” Loki snarled from his seat.

Tony turned to him and cocked his head.

“She was going to headbutt you, obviously. Don't get within 5 feet of her.”

Tony thanked him quietly and sat in his seat, glaring at you. You made eye contact with him once more, and you smirked.

The rest of the ride was quiet, save for a few tiny pockets of conversation and Tony coming up with more dumb questions, which you elected to ignore.

——————————

You had finally reached the compound, and all you could think about was your impending doom.

Steve picked you up again, as your restraints render you immobile. You fell limp in his arms, head dangling. You were so tired and so worried.

Steve carried you into the compound and to a room, or rather, a cell. The space was empty except for a cot in the corner and a sink. The wall next to the door sported a one-way mirror.

“You’ll stay in here; Stark wants to ask you more questions; he’ll be in here soon.” He put you down on the floor, and you looked up to him. He uncuffed you and swiftly ran out in fear of you trying to bolt again.

Little did you know, he and many of the other team members were staring at you from the other side of the glass, observing you in attempts to understand how you worked and your erotic behavior.

The room was made of something that made you powerless, and the walls were a blinding white. There weren’t any windows, and a single notepad and pencil lay on the bed.

You sat in the center of the room for 5 minutes, staying stationary. Once more, scenarios of what the Avengers might do to you crowded your mind. Tears came again, and you sobbed quietly. Everything hurt, and you were once again reminded that you'd been awake for almost 24 hours. So you carefully laid yourself out on the ground, being mindful of your bruises, and cried there.

—————Avengers POV—————

“So- uh- what do we do now?” Steve pointed to you, still crying on the floor.

“Poor thing,” Wanda remarked, frowning.

“Poor thing? She may be a child, but she's evil!” Tony scoffed.

“She could be a beneficial asset to the team,” Nat suggested.

“I don’t trust her.” Tony crossed his arms and looked back to your shaking figure.

“Tony, I kinda volunteered to go talk to her.” Steve turns back to him. “She's got a notepad, and if she doesn’t open up, we’ll send someone else in.”

“Why the hell did you volunteer me? Kid hates me; it's obvious.”

“Just go see if you can get anything out of her, Tony,” Natasha ordered.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, stepping into your cell.

—————Your POV—————

Tony Stark stepped into your cell, the door shut with a loud ‘thud.’ His intentions were unclear, so you backed into a corner. He crouched in front of you and looked into your puffy, red eyes.

Now that the two of you weren't fighting, he noticed how truly young you were; you still had that childlike glimmer in your bright blue eyes. You had been turned into a villain, but it wasn’t your fault.

“Hey, kid.”

You didn’t respond, just blinked. He grabbed the notepad and pencil on the bed.

“Since we haven’t heard you speak, we put this here for you to write on. Do you know how to write?”

Of course, you knew how to write. You stared at Stark, annoyed that he thought you couldn’t write, and slowly nodded your head.

He handed you the notepad and pencil and asked your name, which he knew. He was trying to create a sense of normalcy for you.

“(Y/N)” You wrote.

“You have great handwriting and a beautiful name (Y/N).” He said, reaching for your hand.

You winced when Tony touched you and quickly brushed him off.

“Understood.” Tony moved back and asked you, “Did HYDRA give you your powers?”

“I don’t think so. I was young. I don’t know.” You wrote. You did know, however. You were born with powers, and that’s why your parents sold you. You were too much to handle, and many people were willing to pay hefty prices for you.

You weren’t fond of visiting HYDRA memories, let alone talking about them. Memories of being tortured plagued your dreams every night, and it seems that HYDRA had found a way to torture you even after you escaped.

Often loud noises would bring back memories, as would needles and human contact.

“I want my clothes back.” You wrote. You thought they might bring some semblance of home, a piece of you to hold, and you’d be able to smell your apartment and yourself.

Tony nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Do you need anything else?”

You shook your head and wrote, “Please leave now. And don’t stare at me from the window. It's creepy.”

Tony chuckled. “Ok, Banner is going to come to check on you at some point.”

You nodded and waved your hand towards the door, signaling him to leave.

Tony slowly got up, and you stared silently as he left the cell. Before he shut the door, he looked back to you, stationary on the floor, staring up at him. Once he was gone, you stared into the mirror, not at yourself but any unsuspecting souls behind it.

Once you thought the sufficient amount of staring was reached, you got up and went to the bed at the far corner of your cell. It was perpendicular to the door, so you could see if anyone entered and be ready to defend yourself.

–—————————

It must've been an hour or so until Banner walked into your cell. You jumped up from the bed and pushed yourself into a corner. He frowned and set down what he was carrying, which was a tray of food and your clothing.

He stepped away from said items, and you scrambled to grab them, scared he’d take them back. You backed yourself into your corner once more, shielding yourself with your clothing.

“Hey, (Y/N). Remember me?”

You scowled. You remembered him, and you weren't very fond of the memories you shared with him.

You didn't move, eyes still trained on him. He kneeled about 5 feet away from you, not wanting to startle you.

His voice was low and soft when he asked, “Can I come closer?”

You stared, not knowing how to answer. Would Bruce hurt you again? Could you trust him? It didn’t look like he was holding anything more to hurt you. You allowed yourself to creep closer, slowly inching towards him.

“See, baby steps.” He looked towards the window. You assumed some people were still watching the two of you.

You let yourself come closer, until you were about a foot away from him.

“Can I touch your hand?” He reached out and touched you, but you winced and pulled your hand away. You still didn’t trust him, you would need a whole lot more prof before letting him, or anyone for that matter, touch you.

“Ok, I’m going to go now, get some sleep.” He stood and turned away from you, heading to the exit.

He stepped out, and turned off the lights in your room. It was almost pitch black, except for a dim light coming through the window. You climbed into the bed, and stared up at the ceiling. You were exhausted, but sleep refused to come.

It must have been 45 minutes when you finally drifted off to a restless sleep. You dreamt about what would meet you in the morning.

Tag list: @sweetpeaflower01 @kinny-away @mangobangi @cumulonimbus34 @oakiedokie @moonbaejpeg @coollemonsaresour @screechingshepherddeputygoth @trinity-1002107 @padmoonyfeorge @laurenced1l @vaaalexandra

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1

Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes?  A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+

Chapter 1

The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.

Today was your first day at your new job-  you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.

No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.

You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.

You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.

After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”

“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.

“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”

You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”

“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”

After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.

“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.

With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.

With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.

“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.

“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.

“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.

You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.

“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.

“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”

You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”

Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.

“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”

You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”

“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”

“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?

“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.

You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.

Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-

“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.

You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.

Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.

Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.

As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”

Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.

“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.

Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”

Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.

“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.

Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.

“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.

“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.

You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.

“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.

Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.

Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.

“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.

“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.

“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”

He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”

“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.

Next chapter

[dollfaced-erin]

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!Reader)

 A/n: I would say that to all the townspeople (Y/n) has met before her parting, she’d have at least 4 hearts with everyone, (minus the bachelors and bachelorettes who were not in the timeline) and 6 hearts with Robin, Sebastian, Abby, Caroline and Jodi. 

(Lets just say Robin was good friends with grandpa and found his granddaughter a favorite)

(Caroline found her as a well-mannered and kind child when she was younger. She surely hasn’t changed her thoughts about the girl)

(Jodi always wanted a daughter and found (Y/n) a cute little baby, she really liked it when (Y/n) would come over to play with Sam and help her around the house, teaching Sam to do some housework) (the woman is fond of her)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Harvey grabbed (Y/n)’s wrist and felt her pulse. “Based on the blood she lost, she’ll need a blood transfusion! And the equipment is in the clinic!” the older male said, hoisting (Y/n) into his arms. 

“I’ll need a person with her blood type or an O positive!” Harvey said as they rushed out of the cottage. “Does anyone have that blood type?”

‘Shoot!’ Sebastian thought to himself. He’s a darn A! They had no time to scan for her blood type. But he knew who has an O. “I know someone! !’ll go!” he called out before parting from the group.

The dark haired male was running down the stairs near the river before heading to the bridge near Joja mart. During certain days, the person he was searching for would be on the bridge till late. 

And thank Yoba, these were on of the days.

He didn’t really want to talk to anyone, but he really didn’t have a choice.

‘But why are you doing this? For one girl?’ a voice at the back of his mind whispered. ‘You really aren’t like this. Why are you panicking so much?’

Sebastian stopped in his tracks, thinking about the voice. That was true. He isn’t one to help others. He mainly kept to himself. He’d usually be cool and wouldn’t talk much. Why was he panicking? 

Was it because he hated the sight of her limp body?

Probably

He didn’t want to be burdened for his faults if he didn’t do anything but just left her body there.

Yeah, that was it.

“Hey, Seb!” Abigail called from the bridge, raising a hand to greet him over. “What’s with the frazzled look? You look like someone has been chasing you.”

“Abby,” he said as he came over. “You’re an O positive, right?” he asked, grabbing her arm. 

The girl nodded, her face slightly flushing over the hold he had on her joint. Sebastian didn’t think much of it and immediately pulled her with him without an explanation. 

“H-hey! Where are we going?” The purple-haired girl began to panic, but still followed the pace the male ran, keeping up with him easily.

This really wasn’t like him. He wasn’t one to panic. Why was he so energetic and loud today? He hasn’t been like this in....Abigail bit her lip as she thought. ‘In such a long time,’ the voice in her mind responded.

But taking in the sight of the clinic, she knew this wasn’t good. Did something happen to his mom? Did something happen to her family? Did...is this why he asked for her blood type?

She kept rambling all the possibilities until she never realized that they had burst into the clinic. But her thoughts stopped as she saw the new farmer on the hospital bed.

“Abigail!” Harvey called out, surprised that Sebastian knew her blood type. “Thank Yoba your blood is compatible with hers!”

Abigail stopped. Her hand falling limp from Sebastian’s grasp. Tears welled in her eyes.

“(Y/n)...?”

The said girl was laying motionless on the hospital bed, her skin pale as snow. Her eyes closed and breathing shallow. Her hair was out of its usual hairdo, leaving the strands of (h/c) messy around her face and head. Her shirt was removed to expose the the wound to Harvey, leaving on her underwear to preserve her modesty and also exposing the bruise she got from last night.

But the scar on her right shoulder,

It unlocked her self-sealed child memories.

Tears escaped her green eyes. “She’s alive...? After the accident? It’s the same (Y/n)?” she sobbed. Sebastian placed a warm hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s her. She came back,” Sebastian said, a somber look crossing his eyes. “And this time, you need to help her.”

Abigail nodded as she stuck out her bare arm to Harvey. “Hook me up,” she said with determination, eyes still dripping with tears.

Abigail and Sebastian was sent to another room as the operation took place as everyone else was sent home since she needed to donate her blood. Sebastian was allowed to stay since he needed to accompany the purple-haired girl. Abigail was given a box of apple juice to help increase her glucose levels as she donated her blood to her former best friend.

Sebastian sat on the chair next to Abigail, is eyes blurred and tired as he looked down at the floor. The silence between them was heavy. Since Abigail had just remembered the dark tragedy of Pelican Town. Tears began to drip from her eyes once more.

“When did you know?” she asked Sebastian, her eyes looking down at the crisp white sheets of the clinic bed. He shrugged. “I...saw her scar, and at first it made no sense to me why I suddenly reacted to it. But then I think I thought of it too much, and...I dreamt of it,”

“No way. Did you like...have a nightmare or something?” Abigail told him, but he shook his head. “It’s not impossible if I woke up and everything rushed to my head in that instant,” he told her. “Plus, mom told me that it was true.”

“No way,” she chuckled. “She really came back, huh? At first I thought it was just...a person with a name that sounded familiar, but I thought it was just a common name. But that’s not the case anymore, it seems,” Abigail said with a smile. “After all we’ve done to her, she still came back here? Not to mention that we’re the ones that caused the accident.”

“It wasn’t you. It was me,” he said with a deep frown. “I really thought that she died, and I never registered what happened after. I even dared forget about her.”

“It’s not forgot. It’s...repressed memories and stuff when we were kids,” Abigail said, referring to one of the books she read during her classes. Sebastian nodded. “Extreme trauma would block out the memories in a way of coping with it.”

“But,” she said, clutching onto the hospital sheets. “It doesn’t make me feel less guilty,” tears collided with the white sheets as a green bow clip was in her sight. “She even gave this bow to me. I can’t believe I still forgot her.”

In normal circumstances, Sebastian would’ve felt awkward, but he understood the feeling. He put a hand on Abigail’s back, running it up and down as he tried to calm her. It was true, however. Knowing that they had forgotten their friend who had saved Sebastian, the person who had always made Fall better, matching their clothes during Spirit’s eve, who brought them little things to enjoy together during their visit,

The guilt was truly unbearable.

After a few hours after Abigail was released, she and Sebastian stayed to wait for the (h/c) haired girl. Both of them wanted to see if she was okay or not. Sam came bustling in soon after. Then Maru came out and gave them the thumbs up, all three of them jumped out of their seats to burst into the room.

“She’s been stabilized, thanks to Sebastian’s quick thinking and Abigail’s generosity,” Harvey said after cleaning all the blood. “She was in a dehydrated state and heavily injured. It was a wonder how she managed the strength to move with those injuries.”

“She’s fine, but she needs to stay here for the night so I can monitor her,” Harvey said again before looking up at the clock. It’s 9 pm. Three hours after Sebastian brought (Y/n) in. “It’s late, you all need to go home.”

“But can we stay with her? I asked mom if I could,” Sam started. “We’re staying just in case she wakes up,” Sebastian butted in, earning an eyebrow raise from Harvey. But the older male just chuckled.

“I suppose it won’t do any harm,” he started, “But please not make any noise before and after she wakes up. It might surprise her and raise her blood levels,” Harvey said before leaving the room with the three and one unconscious girl.

Sebastian turned to look at the girl who looked eerily peaceful, her hands placed above her stomach. Her right hand was attached to an IV drip, and her vitals were steady. Her clothing had changed to a hospital gown, probably not to put any pressure around her waist here the injury was.

“Lets grab a seat,” Sam said, removing the partition between (Y/n) and another hospital bed. “Are we even--” “It’s alright! We’ll put it back tomorrow!” Abigail butted in before helping Sam push the bed together. 

“You guys really like her, huh?” Sam started, making the two freeze from what he said. Hasn’t he-- “Oh, I know she’s the same person from the accident,” Sam said as he removed his shoes and sat down on the bed.

“I realized it long ago, actually. When Abigail mentioned it at the Saloon, I just went with it since I thought the both of you actually forgot her,” Sam confessed, leaning against the headrest. “It was hard for me to talk to her, I was the reason she got hit in the first place.”

“But when Abby told me to just talk to her, I realized that you guys probably forgot,” Sam said, bringing his knees closer to his chest. “I remembered when she first came. Mom was careful to never trigger anything, but when she introduced herself to me, I saw the mark on her forehead. I excused myself when everything started coming back to me.”

“It’s hard, to look at her without remembering the hit. I feel like she’s been hating me, never forgiving me,” Sam said. “But when I saw she was rushed in here, I was hesitant. Mom told me to go, but I didn’t want to face her,” Sam looked at the resting girl. 

“But she told me (Y/n) came back to see all of us, I bolted,” Sam chuckled as Abigail and Sebastian sat on the same mattress. But tears began to fall from his eyes. “I-I thought she would never want to see me ever again, not after what I’ve done to her,” he sobbed and Abigail slung an arm across his shoulders.

“Never really thought she’d come back,” Sam sniffled before gazing over to (Y/n). “I’m just happy she’s here.”

“Hey, Seb,” Sam called, the dark haired turning his head to face the blonde. “Yeah?” he answered. The latter gave a loopy smile, and even though he just cried, his eyes were bright of mischief. 

“Do you still like (Y/n)?” he asked, making the other two freeze in place. Abigail slightly retracted her arm and Sebastian’s shoulders went tense. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he asked.

“You know what I’m talking about. Do you still like--” “Wh-where am I?” a groggy voice spoke, quietly, but loud enough for the trio to jump to the bed next to them.

(E/c) eyes started to open slowly, but squinted from the bright light. There were blobs of shadows in her sight, slowly clearing to reveal the trio before her eyes. All of them had worried expressions, eyes either red or still filled with tears. 

“Abby?...Sebastian?...Sam?” the girl choked out as she slowly tried to sit up. “Wh-what happe--” Before she could finish her sentence, she was tackled back down by a force, pinning her back to the mattress. “Abby?” 

“You stupid, stupid girl! How dare you get yourself so hurt again?!” she cried, burying her head in (Y/n) shoulder, trying to hide her sniffles as the girl slowly got up again. 

Sebastian tackled her left side, wrapping his arms around the (Y/n) and Abigail. “You have no idea how much I panicked when you came out like that!” he shouted in frustration. 

“You had us so worried!” Sam said as he hugged (Y/n)’s right side, careful to mind the injury she got. “Never do that again!” he cried out. 

“I lost you once, I’m not losing you again!” Abigail cried. (Y/n) looked at Sebastian, her hand slowly coming up to brush his dark locks.

“At least I saw you at 6, right?” she chuckled, earning a glare from the male. He hit her back, harshly before hugging her again. “Yeah, but that’s NOT what I meant!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry guys,” she laughed lightly as they all clung to her.

The next morning rolled around, and when Harvey walked in, he chuckled at the sight. (Y/n) was laying down since her sides hurt to sit up, Sebastian was sleeping sitting up as he held (Y/n)’s left hand in his own. Abigail was cuddling her on her right, clasping her right arm with both of her own. Sam was similar to Sebastian, but had his arms crossed over his chest.

‘These four really have a special bond,’ Harvey thought, smiling to himself. They didn’t look like young adults anymore, but more like children who wont let their friend go.

Of course, Harvey knew that almost all the singles around (Y/n)’s age suffered from Dissociative Amnesia from extreme trauma as children. And (Y/n) herself has been a victim in the accident that caused it. He knew since he saw her medical records and he looked at her nicely healing scars. But the affect strongest was the ones surrounding her. The sisters just haven’t remembered just yet. 

7 AM rolled around, and (Y/n) stirred to wake up, pulling those around her away from their dream lands too. Harvey had just left the room to set up his clinic for the day. 

Harvey had agreed to let her out, and asked them to keep an eye on the healing girl. Se got 7 stitches and she had to be very careful. Abigail happily volunteered to assist (Y/n) on the farm and Sam and Sebastian would check up on them every so often.

Little did they know, Harvey had taken a photo of the quartet, sending them to their families. Of course, being the lovely mothers they were, they framed the photo and hung it around somewhere in the house.

[dinamitae]

i'm yours | ksj

part of the life goes on series

pairing: seokjin x f. reader genre: modern/quarantine!au, established relationship!au, fluff, slice of life word count: 2.5k+ girl what happened to drabbles??! rating: pg15 warnings: set during quarantine, talk of the pandemic, mentions of sex, suggestive comments, a gross amount of affection, literal tooth-rotting fluff summary: this is the second birthday you’re celebrating in quarantine and your boyfriend, seokjin, vows to make it even more memorable than the last.

a/n: uhh surprise!!! i planned to have jungkook's out next but i somewhat spontaneously got inspiration for this one and ended up cranking it out in about a week. but tbh this was so fun to write and i hope it shows :))

one more thing - this is the ring i used for reference ;) happy reading!

The lingering warmth of your boyfriend beside you slowly dissipating is what wakes you up this morning.

Previously beside you, actually, and you’re only about half awake at the moment. You’re vaguely aware of the comforter being pulled back, the chilly morning air tickling a sliver of your now-exposed back. You roll fully onto your stomach and fold your arms above your head as you listen to the soft rustling of fabric, your boyfriend quietly getting dressed. “What time is it?”

Seokjin chuckles, voice deep and still a little rough with sleep, and ignores your inquiry. Instead, he puts one knee on the bed so he can lay his head right by yours, nose centimeters from brushing your own. “Good morning, birthday girl.”

“Morning,” you rasp, eyes still closed. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles softly, tilting his head up to kiss your nose (you scrunch it almost reflexively, and he chuckles again). “Go back to sleep, angel.”

You pout at that. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I need to...run an errand.” You manage to pry one eyelid open to glare at him suspiciously. “Since when do you run errands?”

“Okay, your first birthday gift from me is that I’m not going to retaliate to that. I’ll be back in a bit.” The one eye you have open rolls ever-so-slightly at his wit before fluttering shut.

“Whatever,” you playfully sigh, reveling in the way his soft lips feel on your forehead. Completely oblivious to the adoring expression that your boyfriend wears, the last thing you hear is his receding footsteps before sleep overtakes you once more.

You wake up again about an hour later to the aroma of coffee wafting into your bedroom.

After slipping one of Seokjin’s big t-shirts and a fresh pair of panties on, you pad into your bathroom to brush your teeth, blankly staring at yourself in the mirror and watching the minty foam collect around the corners of your mouth. You’re turning 25 today. This is the second birthday you’re celebrating in quarantine, which at this point just feels...normal. You remember how sad you felt during your 24th birthday, how uncertain you felt about the state of the world around you. It almost felt wrong to celebrate anything, even your birthday, while there were people out there dying. Luckily, Seokjin was there to very level-headedly remind you that the same can be said for just about any point in time, and that you deserved to celebrate your birthday regardless of the circumstances. And so, albeit a little reluctantly, you did.

Honestly, being with Seokjin has been your saving grace during quarantine. The two of you had only recently started living together when everything shut down, and you’re both fairly busy (you recently started your last semester of law school, Seokjin is the co-editor in chief at a local newspaper), independent people— needless to say, there was definitely some trial and error when you first had to work from home. But you eventually fell into a nice rhythm that suited both of your work and solitude needs, and for that you are so, so thankful.

You finish the rest of your morning routine before heading downstairs, where you’re greeted by a box of pastries, two cups of coffee, and your boyfriend leaning his hip against the counter. He looks up from his phone with a smile when he hears you approach. “Good morning...again.”

“An errand, huh?” You eye the baby pink and white stripes lining the box on the counter, indicating that they’re from your favorite local bakery. You raise an accusatory eyebrow at Seokjin and mirror his stance.

“Yup,” he gives you a tender kiss on the lips. “Only for you. Happy birthday, babe.”

You smile and thank him softly, standing on your tippy toes to peck him on the lips again before grabbing an apple turnover. Seokjin takes that as an opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder. You sink your teeth into the pastry that’s still warm on your tongue, then you blindly try to offer your boyfriend a bite. Giggles escape both of your lips when you miss entirely and some jelly ends up on his cheek— you dutifully turn your head to kiss it off of his face before actually putting the treat in his mouth.

“As much as I love my apple turnovers,” you loll your head to the side so your face is half buried in the crook of his neck, “I’m a little disappointed that morning head wasn’t my first present.”

You feel just as much as you hear his rumbling laugh behind you. “Don’t worry,” he plants a kiss on the side of your head with a smirk, “I’m saving that for later.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

So far, the day has consisted mostly of responding to a gracious amount of birthday text messages, phone calls, and even a few brief but heart-warming facetimes. At around noon, you and Seokjin pick up some fried chicken takeout for lunch, talking and laughing and eating in the safety of his car, before making a brief trip to the grocery store to get some ingredients for dinner along with a small birthday cake.

Evening rolls around, and Seokjin’s stomach grumbles impatiently while you’re cuddling on the couch— with a laugh you take that as a sign to start making dinner. As you’re opening a can of tomatoes for the vodka sauce you both love, your boyfriend puts on some music— more specifically, the playlist he curated for your birthday last year. You cook in comfortable silence alongside each other, save for the occasional “‘scuse me” when you maneuver around one another and the sound of your voices softly singing along to the lyrics. You’re just about to turn the heat down under the sauce so it doesn’t burn while the penne finishes boiling when one of your favorite sappy songs, Sunday Morning by Maroon 5, comes on shuffle.

“Awe, ‘cmere,” Seokjin coos and gently tugs you into his arms with the hand closest to him, holding it right above his heart while his other arm wraps around your torso. You snake your free arm over his broad shoulders and rest your cheek on the other side of his chest. The two of you resume your comfortable silence, basking in each other’s presence as you sway to the jazzy tune.

Sometimes you can’t believe that this is your life. Slow dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life was something you honestly thought was an exaggheration— just one of the many ways people romanticize love and all that it entails. Finding someone that understands you like no one else and loves you for all your flaws was something you merely dreamt of, something that seemed so unattainable. But here you are, dancing in the kitchen with the love of your life, feeling understood and loved and cherished in every way imaginable. And it’s all because of Seokjin.

In light of your thoughts, you let out a blissful sigh. “I love you, you know that?”

Your boyfriend peers down at you fondly, taken aback by your seemingly random proclamation. “Gee, after dating for three years I would hope so.”

You smack his shoulder with a tsk despite the warmth creeping onto your cheeks. “Shut up, I’m just feeling...soft. And it’s your fault, by the way.”

“Is it, now?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest, before looking up to meet his eyes. “You just...make me feel so loved— so special, even when it’s not my birthday. And I hope I make you feel the same, because I really do love you, Jinnie. So much.”

Seokjin rubs a soothing hand on your back as he sucks in a breath and gives your hand, still in his, a reassuring squeeze. “Well, I hope you know that you make me feel the same and more, y/n. You make me so happy and I— I fall more and more in love with you everyday.”

You struggle to find the words to describe just how greatly you reciprocate his sentiment, so instead you pull him impossibly closer, your lips meeting in a languid kiss. Seokjin moves to deepen it, his hand gently cupping the side of your face while one of yours slides into his hair, when the timer set for the pasta rings through the air.

You reluctantly pull away, a faint smile on your lips. Seokjin huffs in mock annoyance as you wipe some lip gloss off of his bottom lip. “Sorry, I love you but I love properly cooked pasta more.”

After finishing your delicious homemade meal, you find yourself sitting at your kitchen table once again, your store-bought cake with mismatched candles lit on top sitting in front of you.

(“There are only five in here!” Your boyfriend calls to you from the kitchen, as you’re currently in the bathroom.

You bark out a laugh, unable to contain your amusement. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, leave it to us to forget to buy candles while we’re literally at the store getting a cake.” A pause. “Don’t worry, each candle can count for 5 years!”

“...Fuck off!”)

Seokjin hurries back from the light switch to sit across from you so he can properly sing you a happy birthday before the wax melts onto the cake. You listen intently, mesmerized by your boyfriend’s singing voice that’s just as beautiful as everything else you love about him. When he finishes, your eyes flutter shut, both out of serenity and obligation.

This is the part where you usually pretend to make a wish, but this year you feel like there are some important matters to be wished for. World peace, maybe? The pandemic ending soon would be nice— for everyone but especially for you being able to kick some attorney ass in person and not just on a zoom call. Happiness...is that too basic? Oh, also—

“Yah, are you writing an essay to the birthday fairy in that head of yours?”

You open your eyes to shoot him a glare that’s met with an amused smile from Seokjin. “That hardly makes any sense,” you weakly rebut, though you concede that you did have your eyes closed for longer than probably necessary. You extinguish all five candles in one blow.

While you cut two generous slices of your cake (red velvet with cream cheese frosting, your favorite), Seokjin goes into your bedroom to fetch your gift, flicking the lights back on as he exits. He returns with a small purple gift bag that has white tissue paper peeking out of the top and hands it to you, sitting beside you this time instead of across the table.

You open the card first (like the polite person that you are), which reads “Happy Birthday to my main squeeze” with lemons wearing sunglasses on the front. You’re still giggling at the pun when you unfold it completely, a few slips of card stock falling out as you do so.

“Coupons…?” Your voice trails off as you read the hand-written tickets. “One free chore, one free tickle attack— ooh, a free kiss! I think I’ll cash that one in now,” you wiggle our eyebrows comically at your boyfriend. He lets out a hearty, window wiper-esque laugh before leaning in to give you a peck on the nose, positively endeared.

You bite your lip in excited concentration as you flip through the remaining ones, before releasing it into a fond pout. “Thank you, bubs, these are so cute.” You’re still admiring your boyfriend’s doodles while he takes a deep breath in lieu of a response. “There’s one more thing in there.”

Your eyebrows pinch a bit in confusion at his sudden nervousness, but you don’t question it just yet. You put your hand back into the bag and fish around in the sea tissue paper until your fingers land on a small, velvet box. You freeze, wide eyes immediately flitting to meet your boyfriend’s. “Jin…”

“This is not a proposal I promise,” his words jumble together in his rush to calm your nerves. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, before pulling the box out of the bag. Opening it up, a small gasp escapes your lips at what lay inside. The ring is delicate in every sense of the word; a thin, gold band holds a total of seven gems, three small diamonds on either side of a stunning, oval-shaped emerald. “O— oh my god, this is beautiful, I’m— Jin, I’m at a loss of words…”

“I’m glad you like it,” he hums, taking another deep breath. “I know we agreed that we don’t want to get married just yet, but I...I also know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Like I said earlier, y/n, you make me so happy— happier than I’ve ever been— and living with you during this stupid pandemic only solidified that.” He looks up to see you already admiring him through teary eyes, the enamored smile painting your features giving him the confidence to say his next sentence. “So this can be your reminder that I promise to marry you one day, and that I’ll do anything in my power to make you just as happy, if not more.”

You sit up a little straighter, caressing his cheek lovingly. “God, you already make me so incredibly happy...and you remind me every day that we’re in this for the long run— all the little things you do for me, every time you’re patient with me, constantly talking about getting a dog,” he lets out a watery chuckle at that. “I love this...so much, don’t get me wrong— but I don’t need a ring to remind me, you know?”

“I know, baby,” he turns to kiss the palm of your hand, “but I’m also tired of fending off guys at the bar. Now you’ll have a pretty little ring on your finger to let ‘em know you’re mine.”

The combination of his words and the playful, yet sincere grin on his lips strikes a chord within you, and not just in your heart; he is yours, and you are his. This isn’t exactly news to you— you’ve had this conversation with him a handful of times before, where you both agreed that you weren’t ready for marriage just yet. And while you were truthful in saying that you don’t need a ring to remind you that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you, it’s still one of the most thoughtful gifts you’ve ever received (it also makes you want to jump his bones...and soon).

Despite your racing heart and your thoughts that are far from innocent, you opt for rolling your eyes and inching closer until your faces are mere inches apart. You feel your eyelashes brush his cheeks as you briefly look down at his lips, then back up into his warm, inviting eyes. The same warm, inviting eyes that you’ll happily gaze into for the rest of your life.

“Yeah, I’m yours.”

a/n: if anyone happens to recall, this one was originally titled "a promise" on the series masterlist, but i decided to change it after writing that last bit :,) i hope you enjoyed reading, & feedback/comments are always appreciated!!!! <3

[navegandoaciegas]

Happy Early Birthday!! ❤️ I would love to ask for a bucky mobster AU. Ill leave the idea up to u 💖

Our forever begins now.

Pairing: dark!Bucky (mob) x reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, obsession, kidnapping, somnophilia, loss of virginity, breeding kink, set in the 20s, smut, explicit language.

Summary: You turn him down every occasion you get, but Bucky knows the only way to make you his forever.

Hues of orange danced in the fireplace besides him and cast a soft glow on your sleeping form, eyelashes resting against your cheeks and lips parted as you snored softly. You looked ethereal, sprawled on the pillows like that, the hem of your baby blue dress rising dangerously close to your knees, your chest heaving with even breaths.

Bucky sighed and sat besides you, hand slowly reaching out to trace the lines of your collarbones, up to your neck, sofly grazing your cheeks. So peaceful, so beautiful. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips at the thought of waking up everyday with your soft, warm body besides his, your gentle smile greeting him, your shy caresses grounding him when the horrors of his life become too much.

A frown marred his face when he realized you’d eventually wake up, and put up a fight like you always did whenever he got near you, talked to you, or asked you out. He shook your disgusted looks out of his thoughts and focused on your peaceful form.

After all, once he put a baby inside you, you’d have no choice but be his, forever.

-

He knew he should’t, because even a man like him understood where the line between bad and evil stood, but he couln’t help himself. Not when you looked so pretty, not when you could’t sneer at him, tell him how disgusting men like him were.

He swallowed the knot in his throat, shakingly lowering his face to yours, his lips grazing your plump ones. For years he dreamt about how you would taste, how well your body would melt into his, how nicely your moans would resonate in his ears. And finally he had you in his arms like you were meant to be.

His heart beat out of his chest as his hands roamed over your body, trembling hands reaching to undo the buttons of your dress, exposing the silky skin of your breasts. He flushed, feeling his cock stir in his pants.

He worshipped your sleeping form, tracing your curves with his fingertips, nipping at the skin of your throat, kissing every inch of you until he was sure he’d marked you whole.

His, only his. Now and always.

You didn’t react, barely groaning when he reached for your undergarments and slipped the off you, exposing the velvety hair on your mound, his mouth watering at the sight of your juices gathering on them.

He’d never done this before, but he felt the impulse to kiss your glistening folds as if he was kissing your lips, and so he did. He dug in like a man starved, swirling his tongue around and drinking up your arousal. He revelled in the way your body jerked involuntarily, a light sheen of sweat gathering on your forehead.

-

There was heat pooling in your lower belly, new but not unwelcome. You stirred in your sleep, your bed more comfortable than you ever remembered it to be.

A wave of pleasure startled you awake, and you recognized the jolts of electricity you’d only ever felt in the privacy of your room, when your fingers found their way into your undergarments, and you furiously rubbed your little pearl trying to release the coil in your belly.

You were still panting as your last memories rushed back to you, the skinny blond boy luring you into an alley with his pained cries, the hand that closed down on your mouth, a thick golden ring pressing on your cheek as your vision grew spotty and you lost consciousness.

You weren’t surprised when the first thing you saw as you opened your eyes was James Barnes, the bane of your existence, the man whose family owned New York but who could’t resign himself to the fact that he could’t own you. And his face was hovering over your spread legs

“Goodmorning dollface.” He greeted you, a toothy grin on his face. If he weren’t worse than the Devil himself, you’d have found his smile pretty.

“What-“, you croaked, but your throat was so dry you could barely get a word out. You flailed, attempted to scream and push him off, but he was too strong for you to fight him.

He shushed you, his loving gaze terrifying you more than anything else in the world. “It’s okay my love, it’s you and I, the way it’s meant to be.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m not. You don’t see it yet, but you will. You’ll love me as much as I love you.”

“Please.” You whispered, tears blurring your vision, holding onto the small beacon of hope that he’d be moved by your cries, “Please let me go Buck, I promise I won’t tell anyone, and I- I’ll go out with you, just like you asked me.” You begged him, hoping he’d listen to your desperate pleads. “We’ll go get milkshakes and then we’ll go to the pictures, yes? And we’ll go dancing, and you’ll leave me at my doorstep at 11, yes?”

You recited the words he’d told you a thousand times before and managed a pained smile, nodding furiously and clutching his pressed shirt. “Anything but this, please.” You sobbed.

What did you do to deserve this?

He cooed you, that deluded look never leaving his eyes.

“Don’t cry my love, I’d never hurt you.”

You heard the clattering noise of his belt and began struggling again, trashing underneath his body, desperate to get as far away as possible from this unhinged maniac.

“Just be a good doll.” He grunted, a hard thing poking your untouched entrance, “And you’ll like it too.”

“Please Bucky, it’s not too late, we can start over agai-“ you were interrupted by him slanting himself inside you all at once, and you felt like he’d knocked all the breath out of you.

An agonizing sound escaped you, your lips wobbling and hands slapping his away as he pounded into you, the pain of it all too much for you to bear.

“Stop please, stop. It hurts, Bucky, please.”

“So perfect.” He moaned in your ear, “Made for me.”

The more he thrust inside you, the more the pain subsided to a dull ache, and you felt the tell tale tingle of your walls as they fluttered around him, your own body betraying you.

You cried and sobbed and cursed yourself for being so damn weak.

“I can feel your cunt clamping down on my cock, sweetheart. I know you like it too, no need to lie.” He purred, his hips snapping faster against yours, “I’ll make you cum on my cock and then I’ll fill your pussy up with my seed.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, a sense of doom overcoming you as you felt the coil in your belly get tighter.

“I’ll fuck a baby inside you, you’ll be so pretty all round with our child.”

Air couldn’t reach your lungs anymore, your chest heaving heavily as you gasped. Not a child, anything but a child, you wanted to beg, but you knew he would’t listen.

A hand snaked its way to your bud, and began circling it as his thrusts became sloppier and your walls clamped down on him.

“Cum, cum all over my cock. Let me hear you.”

You came together, and you emitted with a strangled moan, jolts of electricity shooting from your core to your limbs, white hot pleasure engulfing you whole. Shame burnt hot on your face as you stared at the ceiling. His hot release spilled inside you, and you felt warmth and fullness in your stomach like you’d never had before.

“I feel your cunt milking my cock, doll.” He smiled at you, clinging to your body, fingertips leaving feather like touches on your belly. “I know you wanted it too.”

You had no strenght left in you to fight him, exhaustion and humiliation having tired you out.

“I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my child, and then I’ll fuck another into you, and you’ll always be heavy with my children.”

He nuzzled your cheeks, words and affection of a lover, a stark contrast to the barbaric actions of a monster.

“Why?” You whispered, voice feeble and defeated.

“Because you won’t ever leave, babydoll. You’ll always be mine.”

He kissed your cheeks and raised the blood stained covers over your naked bodies, his limbs tangled into yours.

He was right. No respectable man would want a woman defiled by a mobster, and your parents would throw you out of the house, thinking you were whoring yourself out to the Devil.

“Our forever begins now, doll.”

-

I hope you liked this! Please let me know what you think of it!!

Reminder that my requests are open!🤍

[bangtansbun]

Endgame || End This Way

pairing: jeongguk x f. reader

genre: just sad :(

word count: 2,011

warnings: mentions of hypothetical alcohol use, just grab the tissues

a/n: and this is it. the last part (part 19) of past yn and guk. in a way, i feel really sad leaving these sweet babies behind, but there’s so much to come (some good things too!!)

It’s the morning of your graduation ceremony. You knew this day was coming and you should be feeling excited, right?? Finally getting to leave the hell that is high school and move on to bigger and better things. But you’re not excited. You’re not even the tiniest bit happy. The reason being that you won’t be celebrating this momentous day with your best friend and love of your life.

You’d both dreamt of this day. You’d planned to have an innocent sleepover with movies, popcorn, sweets, and maybe the tiniest bit of alcohol mixed in with your soft drink of choice (sprite for you, coke for him) to celebrate. You’d wake up together, not even hungover because neither of you like to go past tipsy, and have a large breakfast courtesy of your wonderful mom. You’d get ready together and then head for the ceremony. It would be long and boring but you two would entertain each other by making faces at one another through the rows of chairs. You’d both have your names called, being handed over that coveted diploma, and the rest of the day would be filled with graduation parties and laughter.

That wouldn’t be the case, though. Instead, you’d woken up alone, sent a text to Guk asking if you’d be able to see him today (even though you knew it would likely go unanswered), and ate your mom’s delicious breakfast sadly. You really weren’t sure if you’d get to talk to him at all today, but you still held out hope.

Your mom helped you get ready for your walk across the stage, but your sadness was palpable. You tried to keep your feelings at bay, though, because you knew this day would be much worse for Guk than it would be for you.

It was three weeks ago that you got the call. It was just past five in the morning, and you knew the saying: bad news was the only news that couldn’t wait until morning. You picked up the phone with dread, already knowing what it would be about.

“She’s gone.”

Within seconds you had leapt out of bed, threw on your hard-sole slippers and went straight to his house. Guk was inconsolable, understandably so. His whole world came to a stop that day and there was nothing you could do to help. Sure, you could be there for him, but that didn’t change the fact that is mom was now gone and his family forever changed.

The funeral was just a few days later, on the weekend and you had never felt so sad in your life. His family was basically like your own. You can’t remember your childhood without his mom in it - always feeding you guys snacks or making you picnics in his back yard. Jeongguk was brave, though. He kept it together for the most part and you had never been so in awe of him. You knew he’d break down later, in the quiet of his bedroom, but for now he needed to be strong for his dad.

To your surprise, Guk asked to stay the night with you that night. He said he couldn’t bear to be in his house after everything that day. People were still there from after the funeral and he just wanted some peace and quiet. The couldn’t stand the thought of having to hear one more “I’m so sorry about your mom” or have to stomach the food provided after the funeral (how could anyone eat after that??). You held him in the dark and he cried into your chest. Long drawn out sobs, the kind that can only come from someone in mourning. The two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms, Guk’s cheeks stained with tears as his breathing evened out. You were glad you could do something, anything for him that night.

When you woke up the next morning he was gone already. He’d left a post-it note on your desk thanking you for the night before, and that was the last you’d heard from him despite your attempts to reach out. You understood for the most part. You couldn’t imagine losing your mom at such an early age and you didn’t want to push him. He needed his time to heal and you’d give him that, save for a few texts here and there just so he knows you’re still thinking about him. Still doesn’t change how much you miss him.

You arrived at school with your family and you felt utterly lost once they left you to find their seats in the audience. You were supposed to be doing this with Guk and now you had to figure it all out on your own. It made you feel sad, but even sadder for him because he’s having to do it all alone too.

You desperately wanted to find him, even if he didn’t respond to your text this morning. You wanted to see him, hold his hand, and have him know you were there even if he tried to distance himself. You knew he didn’t mean to, Guk had always been sensitive and he tended to shutdown when wrought with emotion.  

You showered the crowd of students all in the same outfit. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Your head kept whirling around in every direction, searching with no luck to find your love. Did he even come? you thought to yourself. He doesn’t technically have to walk across the stage to graduate. They could just mail his diploma to him. Maybe he just decided not to show up, the event too much for him without his mom to be here. That honestly made a lot of sense to you. You probably wouldn’t have come either if you were in his situation. Unfortunately for you, the announcement was made that you’d have to take your seats before you were able to find him.

You sadly trudged to your spot, but you felt a tiny flicker of happiness when you saw Guk sat in his seat. This was good. You’d easily be able to get to him after the ceremony now that you knew where he was. He turned around in his seat and made eye contact with you. You gave him a wave and a weak smile appeared on his face. He was definitely sad. You could tell that much for sure. All the signs were there in the way his smile was barely there, his eyes not creasing like they normally do, a glassy quality to them now.

The ceremony was long and boring, just as you expected it to be. You were beyond ready when they had gotten through all of the formalities and started actually calling out names.

You’d never yelled louder than you did when they called Jeongguk’s name. Jeon Jeongguk, they announced. He stood proud and tall as he walked across and received his diploma. A firm handshake given to the head of your school and then he took his seat once again as the other students’ names were called.

Soon enough, your own name was called and you felt a wash of overwhelm come over you. High school was over and your life was about to become so different. Again, you were supposed to be happy, but you weren’t prepared  for the future and you certainly weren’t prepared for one without Guk.

The head of your school gave a final speech, you all stood up and cheered, this was it. You quickly made your way to where Guk was seated, hoping he hadn’t already bolted. Amazement written all over your face when you finally spot him.

He saw you, and although you expected him to ignore you and run, he didn’t. He waited patiently for you to make your way through the crowd.

“Hey,” you say to him, feeling unsure of what to say in this moment. You really didn’t care what was said, you just wanted to be with him. “Hi,” he supplies back to you. You both stand there awkwardly for a moment, and then he surprises you by bringing you in for a tight hug. You’re quick to wrap your arms around him. Taking in his clean, fresh linen scent one more time. Wanting to commit it to memory just in case. It takes you a moment to realize he’s started crying, but you just continue to hold him. Soothing circles being rubbed into his back.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to you, his voice sounding wet. You know what he means even without context. He’s apologizing for not answering you back and practically not seeing you at all. “No, don’t be sorry. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” you try to comfort him. Then, “I miss her so much.” That absolutely breaks your heart. Lost for words, you give him a comforting squeeze.

He doesn’t let go for a while, but when he does his face devastates you. You wish you could change everything, take all of the pain away, make everything better. Anything to not have to see him like this. But you know you can’t do that.

“You’re leaving soon aren’t you?” he asks you. You both had to get comfortable with the idea that you wouldn’t be going to college together anymore, therefore seeing less and less of each other. You would be leaving in a week to get settled in your apartment near campus and start your summer job there. You nod your head, not wanting to say a word because that would make it too real. “I don’t want you to leave.” God, you would drop everything for him if you could. You would risk it all for him if it wasn’t for the fact that your parents already took out student loans for you to go to the school of your choice. You feel tears starting to well in your eyes. Your emotions starting to get the better of you. “I’ll visit you as much as you want. Just tell me,” you try to reassure him with a shaky voice. A small smile creeps on to his face at that.

“Will you be able to make it to my graduation party?” You knew he had decided not to have one, but your parents insisted that you did and you hoped he’d come. “I’m not sure, I was thinking of just having a quiet dinner out with my dad. This is hard for him too.” You smile at him in understanding. However, the realization that this might be one of the last times you see him hits you like a truck. “Well, if you need anything tonight, let me know.” He nods at you and brings you in for another hug. You finally let the tears fall and he pulls you tights against him when he realizes you’re crying. Let’s you nuzzle into his chest. He gives a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you.” You sniffle before pulling away from him, “I love you too.” He knows the weight behind this moment just as much as you do, but he knows you have to part ways now, your families waiting for both of you. He gives you another kiss, but to your cheek this time and he walks away. Just like the night he told you about his mom, not looking back because he doesn’t think he’d be able to walk away from you if he saw your face again.

Neither of you wanted it to end this way.

The rest of your day should have been filled with party after graduation party, excitement, and laughter. Instead, it’s filled with fake smiles, moments of crying in the bathroom between saying “hi” to guests, and dread enveloping you as the day comes to an end and you have to start packing up your things. The week would come and go quickly and soon enough you’d be hours away from your hometown and the love of your life. This was it.

taglist: @ggukkieland​ @hecticwonderer​ @kookiepout​ @koochiekoo​ @secretlycrazyhummingbird​ @imluckybitches​ @madaboutjeon​ @mybiasforsure​ @thequeen-kat​ @betysotelo18​ @scentedsope​ @apollukee​ @nightapple4jk​ @xtrataerrestrial​ @peachthi​ @pimpnameyannie​

[janeofcakes]

Soulmates: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 3

Hello, my friends! It’s been a busy weekend and I’m more than a little sunburned (grrrrr), but here it is! The next chapter is ready and waiting for you all. I hope you enjoy it and had a great weekend!

---

The next two Saturdays come and go with Olive and Gracie no closer to getting their fathers to meet. The one following their first would have been perfect, but Sherlock had a case on that did not finish as timely as he had hoped. Mrs. Hudson was out of town with Mrs. Turner, so he called in his own babysitter. She and John had a pleasant enough conversation on the park bench from what little Gracie and Olive overheard. It didn’t really matter that John had been told Sherlock’s name was William because Annie had always called him that anyway. From what Olive understood, it was an attempt to protect both Sherlock and Annie’s privacy. She could reference him as her employer with ease while avoiding the inevitable ‘Yes, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he does have a child.’ conversation. It was also better that Sherlock not advertise the fact.

Olive and Gracie’s anticipation of the following Saturday grew with John’s answer to the playdate at Olive’s flat question. He had said it would likely be fine, but he needed to meet Olive’s parents first. When Saturday came, John was called away on an emergency and Candace took Gracie to the park AGAIN. After the two girls pouted a bit, they cooked up a scheme wherein Candace gave her impression of Sherlock to John so they could move things along. The girls thought this would suffice, but John still insisted upon meeting ‘Will’ himself. Gracie tried to argue that he trusts Candace and should just go along with it. She had a good, long strop on Sunday when he refused. 

Gracie’s class sits together in the smaller of the school’s two gymnasiums when they arrive individually before the day begins. Every class has its place so each can rise and file to its room when the bell rings. Olive and Gracie love beginning the day this way because they have a chance to talk before having to sit quietly for lessons. It makes it much easier to pay attention. This particular Monday morning, however, is not going to plan.

Gracie glances up to the clock on the wall impatiently and begins to worry. Olive is not in the gym yet and it is not like her. Sherlock always has her to school at exactly eight minutes before the bell rings and it is now five minutes to the bell. Gracie lowers her eyes again and bites her lip. She knows her concern is ridiculous at this stage. It’s probably just traffic or something, but her protective side won’t let it drop. Could Olive and her father have gotten caught up in a case somehow? Gracie furrows her brow as she considers what that might mean when a pair of red shoes comes into view. She lets her eyes focus on them a moment before lifting them to see a girl from one of the other grade three classes standing before her nervously.

“Hi, Grace,” she says quietly. Her name is Julia and she usually keeps to herself, but Olive has built up a report with her. She says Julia sees and knows everything and is really nice, just a bit shy. Knowing this, Gracie is surprised she has left her own class group to come over to Gracie’s and talk.

“Hi,” Gracie mutters and then adds, thinking it the most likely reason for Julia’s visit, “Olive isn’t here yet.”

“I know. I just wanted to tell you,” Julia casts a slow side glance to her right and then back to Gracie, whose curious eyes follow the other girl’s. “Jones is planning something for lunch today. I’m not sure what, but she wants to embarrass you. She’s still mad about that punch on your first day.”

“Oh,” Gracie replies, not knowing why she expected anything less. Jones hadn’t said word one to them since that day and Olive kept saying it was only a matter of time. “Thanks. I’ll watch out for that.”

“We all loved it, you know,” Julia carries on swiftly. “Jones has been a pain in everyone’s side forever. She deserved it.”

Julia glances away again and takes a step back. Her brown eyes are intense when she returns them to Gracie’s and she angles her head closer.

“We’re all with you in this,” she almost whispers. “We’ll help anytime you need it.”

“Thanks,” Gracie doesn’t try to stop the small smile on her face. “I’ll remember that.”

Julia nods once and hurries back to her class’s spot. Gracie watches her go, feeling a bit lighter than she did before. She doesn’t know who is encompassed in the word ‘we’ at this moment, but it must be more than just grade three, right?. She had gotten quite a lot of attention from the other kids after the punch. More had greeted her afterwards or thrown a smile her way. Gracie wouldn’t say they all wanted to be friends or anything, just that they knew of her and liked what they knew. Very different from her old school where she was virtually unknown outside of her own grade.

Gracie thinks back on the friends she left behind in Bath and resolves to zoom with them soon. Turning her head to check the clock again, she nearly jumps out of her skin when Olive plops down right in front of her. The brunette is breathless, obviously having walked as fast as possible through the school halls to get here. Gracie cocks a brow and crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Where the heck have you been?” she nearly scolds, secretly eyeing her friend for any signs of injury. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Pfft,” Olive makes a dismissive sound and waves a hand. “We still have two minutes.”

“Well, where were you?” Gracie fidgets, feeling a little exposed, but wanting to say this nonetheless. “I was kind of worried. Like maybe you ended up on a case or something.”

“Oh, no. Dad never takes me on cases,” Olive tells her in a very serious tone. “Well, only once when he absolutely had to and only because he knew there was no danger.”

Gracie releases the lip she’s been chewing on and lets the tension drain from her body. Seeing her friend relax, Olive smiles and lightens her tone.

“Dad did get a call for a case though and Mrs. Hudson had to bring me in. She’s never as fast as dad is,” Olive’s whole face lights up then and she hops up to sit on her knees for a change of subject. Gracie knows what it is too. It’s the reason she has waited for her friend so anxiously. “So did you ask him? What did he say? Whaddid he say?”

“He still needs to meet your dad first,” Gracie sighs with disappointment.

“What?” Olive blurts indignantly. “But he trusts Candace’s judgement.”

“That’s what I said, but he says he still has to meet your parents before I can go to your flat,” Gracie huffs. “It’s like he thinks he can tell they aren’t axe murderers with just one look.”

“You can, you know,” Olive replies suddenly in a calmer voice.

“What?”

“Tell someone isn’t an axe murderer with one look,” Olive sounds very pleased with herself for knowing this bit of information.

“What are you on about?” Gracie shakes her head. “That’s not even important right now.”

“No. You’re right,” Olive concedes. She touched a finger to her lips to think and then groans loudly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “We have to make sure they meet this weekend. I’ll tell Uncle Greg not to even call Dad if I have to.”

“I’ll do what I can too, but there’s no way I can stop another emergency,” Gracie grumbles and wrinkles her nose.

“Any chance of a baby again?” Olive asks, trying to plan for any contingency. 

“I don’t think so,” Gracie shrugs. “Dad usually tells me to be ready when it’s something he can anticipate.”

“Hm. Then we’ll just have to hope for a slow weekend,” Olive mumbles, touching a finger to her lips again.

“Right,” Gracie agrees, leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Something interesting happened right before you got here.”

The bell rings and teachers begin to call out instructions as Olive opens her mouth to respond. The two girls rise with their classmates, Gracie shouldering her backpack. Their line starts moving almost right away. Olive puts a hand on Gracie’s shoulder and leans in, the shorter girl turning her head to hear better.

“You can tell me at lunch,” Olives says, “and we can decide what to do on our first playdate.”

Gracie grins and agrees as they walk into the hall to their classroom.

***

“And then I’ll show you our latest experiment,” Olive had started listing the things she and Gracie would do on their first playdate the moment they walked into the lunch room. Olive puts a spoon full of yogurt into her mouth triumphantly.

“What are you working on now?” Gracie asks, snapping off a piece of her carrot and chewing. Her face is bright and open. Thinking about her first time in Olive’s flat is her most fun pastime these days. She has even dreamt about it: what she pictures it to look like and what they will do. It is the most excited she has been about something in a while. She was excited to move to London and start in a new school. Of course she was, but this has none of the uncertainty or anxiety those did. It is all pure anticipation and Olive feels it too, which makes it all the harder to wait until their fathers meet.

“The effects of cola on raw meat,” Olive answers Gracie’s question while dipping her spoon for more yogurt.

“What?” Gracie frowns and cocks a brow. “Why?”

“You don’t want to know,” Olive eyes the mound of yogurt on her spoon. “We’ve also added other stuff, like poisons and things to see if it makes any difference as far as how quickly the meat deteriorates or absorbs the poison. It’s for a homicide case.”

“What’s homicide?” Gracie asks curiously.

“Murder,” Olive whispers and closes her mouth smoothly around the spoon.

“Wow,” Gracie looks at her with wide eyes, carrot still in hand.

“I can’t guarantee we’ll still be doing it by the time we have our playdate though,” Olive tells her almost regretfully, holding the spoon to her lower lip. “There’s no way it could last two weeks. Dad never takes that long to solve a case.”

“That’s okay. It sounds kind of gross anyway,” Gracie pops the carrot into her mouth and grabs another. “What else could we do?”

“I want to show you my room. That’ll be the best part,” Olive declares, shifting from side to side in her seat eagerly. “It’s the upstairs bedroom. The only room upstairs.”

“Oh my god. Your flat has an upstairs?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide. “Ours have always been all on one floor.”

“Sometimes I pretend it’s a castle on top of a huge mountain and I have to climb it to search for prisoners or treasure or villains,” Olive is waving her spoon around now, gesturing enthusiastically.

“That sounds brilliant!” Gracie bubbles. “We could climb it together.”

“And, and!” Olive gasps, grabbing Gracie’s wrist and holding perfectly still. Gracie freezes too, but nearly vibrates with the anticipation of what she will say. “You can bring Pandy and we’ll save her and Wellies.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s perfect!” Gracie shoves a carrot in her mouth. “I can’t wait.”

“We have to get our dads to meet this Saturday,” Olive says emphatically, nearly in a whine as the bell rings. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Around them, Miss Chapel begins rounding everyone up. Olive and Gracie both shove what’s left of their lunches into their bags and hurry to stand.

“Hey, wait. We forgot. What were you going to tell me?” Olive asks, pushing her chair in.

“What?” Gracie replies, not sure what she means.

“From this morning,” Olive answers as Gracie picks up her bag and milk carton. “I got so excited about our playdate, I forgot to ask.”

“Oh, that,” Gracie starts toward the door, but her foot catches on something and she falls flat on the floor. Throwing her arms out to catch herself, she drops her lunch bag and milk carton and then lands right on them. Both smash flat, the half full carton soaking the front of her uniform.

“Gracie, are you okay?” Olive darts around the table to help, but Gracie is already getting to her knees.

“I’m fine,” Gracie mutters, looking down at herself and grumbling. Olive follows Gracie’s legs to find the sources of her fall and her eyes settle on a black size six. She knows who it is without even looking, but raises her angry gaze nonetheless and rests it on the smug face of Samantha Jones.

“Your friend had best watch where she’s going, Holmes,” Jones sneers, her two lackeys grinning behind her. “She could get hurt.”

“You’re a coward, Jones,” Olive scowls. “She faced you straight on and bested you, and now you hide in the corner waiting to catch her off-guard.”

“Olive,” Gracie cautions, standing next to the taller girl now.

“You watch yourself, Holmes,” Jones steps up close and stares Olive down. “Your pet won’t be with you all the time and that’s when I’ll find you.”

“Girls,” Miss Chapel calls sternly from behind Olive and Gracie, “what are you doing? Did you not hear the bell?”

“Just coming, Miss Chapel,” Jones replies pleasantly, side-stepping the two younger girls while staring at them menacingly. “Wouldn’t want to be late to class.”

After the three grade sixers are gone, Olive takes Gracie’s lunch bag and goes to class while Miss Chapel helps Gracie clean up a bit in the loo. She isn’t too worried about missing anything. Olive will fill her in on the lesson later. What Gracie has on her mind now is how to get back at Samantha Jones and really put her in her place so she doesn’t bully anyone in the school again. If anyone can do it, it’s Gracie Watson and Olive Holmes. 

***

“Just the two of you against the world then, eh?” John chuckles as he drops Gracie’s soiled uniform into the washer with some other laundry and closes the lid.

“The world of bullies, yeah,” Gracie answers as if there is no way it could be questioned. “You should see her, Dad. She pushes everyone around and steals the good stuff from their lunches as a ‘protection fee’.”

John flips the dial on the machine to start the cycle and turns to his daughter with a both bemused and amused expression. She wears a look of determination that only furthers his pleasure. Gracie looks nothing less than adorable. Her brow is furrowed, her eyes deadly serious and her mouth purse into half its usual size. With a hand on one hip and her other arm wrapped around Pandy, she stands strong with her feet planted on the floor. The smiling panda t-shirt, her favorite one, looks up at him with friendly eyes that contrast with his daughter’s.

“Protection fee?” John laughs because he just can’t help himself at this point. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“That’s what Olive calls it,” she informs him in a tone that is all business. “Jones says she won’t bother them if they give her the treats from their lunches and they do it because they’re scared of her. She’s mean and you say I should stand up against bullies.”

“True, but…” John cuts in, seeing where this is going and not sure it’s the best course of action for Gracie to take.

“You don’t want me to stand back and let her bully little kids,” Gracie continues. “Kids in my class, even the ones who are younger than us. Why shouldn’t I stop her if I can?”

“Gracie…” John begins again, gathering his thoughts quickly.

“I thought you’d get it,” Gracie’s voice is insistent, but has a touch of pleading as well, and even some disappointment. “You fought in a war.”

“This is hardly war, Gracie,” John says a bit more sternly than he meant to . She snaps her mouth shut in a thin frown and the furrow of her brow deepens. She tilts her chin down and looks up at him with frustrated eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and pressing Pandy against her body. John sighs and squats down before her, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

“Gracie, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he tells her in a soft tone of concern. “I love that you want to help the other kids and don’t want to back down from a fight. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Gracie takes a deep breath through her nose, shoulders straightening and her chest puffing out. The corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly.

“You’ve only been at the school for a few weeks,” John carries on carefully. “I don’t want kids that could have been friends to steer clear of you because they think you like trouble, or will get them in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Gracie questions, obviously finding the idea unbelievably stupid. “They seem to like me more because I stood up to Jones in the lunchroom. Like Julia said.”

“Oh, right,” John lifts his chin and raises his eyes briefly as he remembers. “The informant.”

“She knows everything,” Gracie lowers her voice and glances to her left before leaning in conspiratorially. “She lays low and hears all kinds of things. Olive can always go to her if she has questions about stuff that’s going on.”

“Just like Billy,” John mutters to himself with a quiet laugh.

“Who?” Gracie asks, looking a little confused.

“Nothing, sweet pea. Someone from another life,” John deftly pushes away his past. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to help you any way I can to be a good person and get on with other kids, or with schoolwork and whatever, yeah? I’m a lot older and have done a lot of things. It’s called experience.”

“Okay,” Gracie says slowly like she is beginning to see his point. She watches him thoughtfully.

“Sometimes people just think you’ll be the next bully when you stand up to one,” John explains. “You have to be careful kids don’t get the wrong impression and assume they should avoid you too.”

“I don’t think that would happen,” Gracie shakes her head. “Not with Olive on my side and Julia talking to everybody.”

“Well, good,” John straightens his legs to stand. “I’m glad you have such good and supportive friends.”

Gracie follows him as he walks to the kitchen to check the lasagna baking in the oven. It smells delicious and is one of their favorite dinners.

“Did you and your best friend help people?” Gracie asks curiously, lagging behind a little to stay away from the heat of the open oven door.

“Oh, yes,” John replies without even thinking as he lifts the aluminum foil from the casserole pan to look at the bubbling cheese. “Every case we solved helped people and even saved lives. It was an amazing time.”

“You solved cases?” Gracie asks after a brief pause. John’s eyes widen as he realizes what he just said and he hurriedly grabs for the oven mitts on the counter.

“Medical cases, sweetie,” John pulls the lasagna from the oven and moves across the counter. “Will you close the door, please?”

Gracie pushes the oven door shut and steps to the counter next to John. She picks up the first plate and hands it to him when he turns to retrieve it.

“Thank you,” he says warmly, taking it and dishing up the lasagna, some vegetables he had kept warm and a bit of salad. He tries not to look at Gracie for too long as he hands her the plate and she passes him an empty one. After all these years it is still too easy to read his expressions and he knows his daughter will know immediately that he’s hoping his lame explanation will suffice. John does, however, have to get it together before he sits down to eat with Gracie or he will spend the rest of the night telling her how the beloved characters in her bedtime stories are real and one of them is her own father. Will she feel betrayed? Like he has kept a huge part of himself from her? Do eight year olds even understand that concept? Gracie is fairly mature and advanced in her thinking, but enough to feel wronged or just to think her dad has this cool, secret past?

Finished filling his own plate, John schools his features as he turns to the table to see Gracie watching him expectantly. She has not only gotten the glass of milk he poured for her from the fridge, but his ice water as well. As he moves to sit opposite her, John wonders just how long it took him to dish up his own food. Gracie doesn’t look the least bit suspicious though, which is definitely a good sign. John really doesn’t want to spend the night dwelling on his former best friend. He has patently tried not to do just that since the day he agreed to take over the practice.

“Daddy?” Gracie’s voice interrupts his thoughts. John looks across the table to see her staring at him with a very deliberate expression as she chews. “You have to come to the park this Saturday and meet Olive’s dad. We’ve already planned what we’re going to do on our first playdate and it’s going to be amazing.”

“I’m sure you have,” John almost sighs in relief, picking up his glass for a drink. “You both love your master plans.”

“I’m not kidding, Dad,” Gracie says plainly. “This is very important.”

“Well, I don’t anticipate any emergencies, so it should be fine,” John answers. He replaces his water glass and scoops some lasagna onto his fork. “You’ll get to have a playdate soon enough.”

***

After dinner and the washing up, John and Gracie play a few card games until bedtime. Gracie beats him twice at Old Maid and once at Go-Fish, but John wins both games of Gin. John picks up and puts away the last deck of cards while Gracie brushes her teeth. He makes himself a cup of tea while she runs to her room to change into pajamas.

When John appears in her doorway, cup in hand, Gracie is lying down with the covers pulled up to her shoulders. He walks in, sets the tea on the bedside table and grabs the chair from her desk. Pulling it up to her bed, he sits and grabs his mug again.

“So,” John sips the tea, “what would you like tonight? Another chapter of the old Nancy Drew you and Olive are reading?”

“Actually…” Gracie’s tone is slightly higher than usual. A clear indication that she is going to ask for something she thinks he will say no to. “I was hoping for a Sam and Dean story. One you haven’t told me before.”

“Just how many of those stories do you think there are?” John asks good-naturedly after a quick bark of laughter.

“Hundreds!” Gracie answers with a sparkle in her eyes that John can never resist. He looks  down at her with a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t say that,” John tells her, “but I do still have some you don’t know.”

One leaps to mind. Why, John doesn’t know, but it is suddenly the only one he can think of. It isn’t a pleasant memory, but is certainly a case that pulled him and Sherlock closer together.

“I was going to save this one for when you’re older,” John pauses to wet his lips as Gracie’s eyes go wide.

“Please, Daddy, please,” she throws the covers off her arms, sits up and grabs the arm that doesn’t have a mug of tea at the end. “I’m old enough, please.”

John studies her for a moment and then sets down his tea.

“All right, all right,” he puts his hands on her shoulders, “but lie down. This is bedtime after all.”

“Yes!” Gracie declares in triumph and lays back quickly. John pulls the covers up to her chin and begins to tell her the story about pips, hostages, explosions and Moriarty, who he calls Chuck instead. Gracie listens with rapt attention, only really getting nervous when they were staring at that damn painting and the voice on the phone was a child. John has not told anyone, or even thought of this case, for over ten years and a feeling like exhaustion settles over him as he reaches the pool.

“The door opened and Dean walked in wearing a thick parka,” John says as Gracie gasps in horror. Her eyes are wide with shock, her mouth drops open.

“Oh my god, it was Dean?” she whispers, scarcely able to say the words. John’s heart sinks when she makes the same assumption Sherlock did, but rebounds when she quickly takes it back. “No. No, it can’t be Dean. He would never do that.”

“Right you are,” John commends her. “Dean pulled open the coat to reveal a waistcoat of explosives.”

Gracie lets out a huge gasp, her hands shooting from under the covers and over her mouth.

“No! What did he do? How did Sam save him?” Gracie demands in a hushed voice, unwilling to take her eyes off John for even a moment.

“Dean couldn’t say or do anything but what Chuck told him and Sam… He didn’t know what to do,” John shakes his head, remembering Sherlock’s face. He had been so frightened and vulnerable for that split-second before he schooled his expression, but John had seen it all. Unfortunately, so had Moriarty. John flinches as the words echo through his mind for the first time in years.

I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.

I have been reliably informed I don’t have one.

We both know that’s not quite true.

“All of a sudden, Chuck appeared and started telling Sam how he needed to give up, let him carry on with his plans,” John continues, trying not to see Sherlock’s face and hear the words again.

Gracie’s eyes are glued to John as he tells her how he had grabbed Moriarty and told Sherlock to go, but that he wouldn’t leave. John had known there was no way out when he saw those damn red dots on Sherlock’s forehead and throat. He had released Moriarty and swallowed hard in resignation, but then the little devil had left. Gracie breathes a sigh of relief when the semtex came off and then screeches quietly, full of fear again when Moriarty returned. 

“Sam looked Dean in the eye and it was all Dean needed to know what he was thinking.” John’s voice is hushed, the only sound in the room. “He was going to shoot the bomb and cause an explosion.”

“Oh my god, no!” Gracie mutters, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching Pandy to her chest tightly. “He can’t.”

“It would’ve killed the two of them, but would also put an end to Chuck’s plans,” John says, trying to keep his tone even as the past floods back to him. It wouldn’t have stopped Moriarty. If they had survived somehow, he still would have ruined Sherlock’s reputation, threatened the three people most important to him and forced him to jump. You owe me a fall. Moriarty would have gone to any lengths to see that happen and must have had the pieces in place even then. God, how that man had fucked up their lives.

“What happened?” Gracie’s voice, thick with anticipation and dread, breaks John free from his thoughts. His gaze comes into focus again and he looks at his daughter for a moment before finding his voice.

“His phone rang,” he says simply.

“What?” Gracie blinks her eyes wide, her whole face rife with disbelief. John allows himself a small smile. 

“Someone gave him another way to end the detective and make him useful in the process,” John says grimly. “So he just left. So did his henchmen, but Sam and Dean knew he would be back.”

“Wow,” Gracie breathes in utter amazement. “What an ending. I can’t believe he got away. Did he come after Sam and Dean again?”

“Unfortunately,” John gives her a shallow nod, knowing he cannot tell her that story anytime soon. Maybe never.

“Oh my gosh,” Gracie mutters. “When? How? Did they get away? Do they beat him?”

“Oh, no,” John shakes his head. “You get one story and that one was much longer than it should have been.”

“What? Dad!” Gracie cries, disappointment coloring her face and tone.

“You know the rules, Gracie,” John tells her firmly. “It’s late enough already. You need to sleep.”

“Fine,” Gracie grumbles after studying him long enough to see there is no hope of John changing his mind. She snuggles Pandy close to her cheek as John bends down to kiss her head.

“Good night, sweet pea,” John says into her hair and then sits up again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Gracie replies, already looking sleepy. John stands and replaces the chair by the desk. He turns off the lamp on the bedside table as he picks up his mug, leaving only the dim night light to illuminate the room.

“Good night,” John whispers. Gracie’s eyes are closed and she does not open them. John slips from the room and heads for the kitchen. It’s still fairly early, but John will only think of Sherlock if he stays awake. Even crap telly or a book will not distract him at this point.

John sighs and sets the mug in the sink. He goes to his bedroom and into the ensuite, cleans his teeth and readies for bed. Once his pajamas are on and he is staring at the ceiling in the dark, John allows his mind to unveil that portrait of Sherlock he keeps so tightly covered and looks at it for a long time. Being in London again and not even that far from Baker Street, John has resolutely kept the man from his thoughts and will not entertain the idea of going anywhere near his former flat, even just to see if Sherlock is still there. When John left with Mary, there were too many things left unsaid. It is too late to say them now.

John turns on his side with a sad sigh, closes his eyes and pulls the curtain over Sherlock’s ever-changing eyes once again.

---

There you are! Complete with a vision of creepy Moriarty and the pool. Incidentally, I have a great idea for a one shot involving the pool and what follows that strays wildly from canon (infamous eyebrow waggle). Hopefully I can start on it soon. In the meantime, feel free to let me know what you think about chapter 3 or teasers or any ideas that might be running through your heads. Have a great week, my friends, and thank you so much for your support and love. Makes my heart glow.  Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[thestyleswritings]

Restoration of Faith

REQUEST: (this may be triggering, so i'd understand if you chose not to write it). first-time consensual sex. Y/N lost her virginity in a sexual assault but has been to therapy. It took her a while to be comfortable with sex, but now she decides she's finally ready to have sex with Harry for the first time. He know what happened wants to make it a positive experience for her so he's super gentle and attentive.

  "I'm... Nervous," she admits, biting her lower lip once again and truly testing his resolve. Her lips were always a key part in his fantasies. Contrary to her words, she rocks herself onto his growing length, making the pair of them shiver.

 "You don't need to be nervous, princess. This is all you. We can do whatever you want and nothing more. The ball is in your court." Harry tells her softly, though now his voice has a gruffness to it that she's only heard early in the morning.

Or

Harry meets a girl who’s been through something awful and falls deeply in love with her.

Warnings: Smut, TW // Mentions of abuse and self-harm

4k+ 

  Therapy had saved her life. She was ready and willing to admit that. After her attack, she stopped texting, calling, going out. She wouldn't make contact with anyone for anything, even her professors had thought she'd dropped off the face of the planet. She wasn't eating, she wasn't sleeping, and she wasn't showering. She also had a very nasty habit of hurting herself, even if only a little bit, just to feel something. The sting of a cut, the scorch of a lighter. It took her somewhere close to 3 months to even get out of her head and call a therapist.

 It had been another 6 months into therapy that she'd met Harry. Before he arrived in her life, she always kept the same routine to feel as if she had more control over her life, never failing to tick every box to the letter on her list of daily activities. It helped her feel like she was really in charge of her life, an exercise her therapist taught her, and consistently praised her for continuing on her own.

 The day she met Harry, everything she had structured in place for herself shifted. It started when she missed the bus she normally took to her weekly appointment, kicking herself for snoozing her alarm one too many times. She typically didn't even take advantage of the function on her phone, only she'd been feeling hazy for a few days prior and figured a moments peace couldn't hurt anyone. With a scowl on her face, she decided she'd just hoof it there and apologise profusely for her tardiness once she arrived.

 Only she never made it that day. One blasted thing after another got in her way, making it nearly impossible to get to her destination. Pavements were closed on one road, traffic being directed in a never-ending stream on another. It was maddening. She could almost feel herself unravelling towards a breakdown when a man spoke to her left, nearly causing her to jump from her skin.

 "Sorry love, was only asking if you knew another way 'round this intersection. I've got an appointment at a quarter til, and it's just about half-past now. I didn't mean to give you such a scare," the man sounded sincere, honest, apologetic. She felt the very corner of her lips raise at the notion. An honest man? Unfathomable.

 "S'alright, I'm just a bit caught up in my mind, innit?" She offered, tone teetering on cheekiness.

 "I must be too, s'why I'm on my way to therapy. Though it seems like every bloody traffic cop in London would rather I didn't make it there." The man scoffed lightheartedly, dramatically rolling his eyes for her amusement.

 "Oh, that's actually where I was headed." She offers, not exactly sure why. She didn't owe him any further explanation of her presence on the street, but here she was, still giving one. It felt nice. She hadn't so much as double taken a man since what had happened to her, but there was something so welcoming about him. So she dared to ask his name, creating an inevitable conversation. She made a note to let her therapist in on this major break in her recovery realisation.

 "'M Harry. You?" He said, glittering eyes gazing into hers.

--

 Another 6 months down the road, she felt her throat close up as her heart sank to her stomach. She and Harry had laid down a sturdy foundation together in the time leading up to then, strong as mountains. They'd quickly become the best of friends, laughing at all the same corny puns and jokes and learning every little quirk that made the other up. She knew things like how he took his coffee, and what kind of jam was his favourite. She knew where he'd grown up, who he was friends with in another life, strange dreams he had, what sort of dumb things he and his sister fought over when they were young. But she also had more intimate knowledge, things like his deepest fears regarding his family, his future, if he'll have a family of his own, his regrets. And he knew those same things about her. She trusted him by showing him what she'd done to herself when she needed to bring herself back to reality. She told him what she was ashamed of, both things she had done and what had been done to her. She spoke openly about how her purity had been snatched from her grasp, although kicking and screaming. She cried to him when she felt small. They had even told the other they were in love.

 That's what scared her half to death. She knew she loved him with the entirety of her soul, but she was afraid, almost petrified, to take her clothes off in front of him. She had a few unwelcomed touch-memories when he'd come up behind her and laid a hand on her hip innocently, or when he'd spontaneously kissed her neck and she nearly lost her mind.

 And he understood that. He couldn't imagine the kinds of trauma buried beneath her skin, the levels of paranoia that were bestowed upon her. From the nights she spent at his flat, he knew she sometimes would even jump in her sleep. It made him upset. Not because she was subconsciously jumping from his touch, but because someone made it that way. He would never forgive himself, even if the thought was beyond irrational, for not meeting her sooner. He wished more than anything to take that pain off her shoulders. To erase the searing memory she was still so harshly burdened with. Of course, he desired her physically, but he would never be able to live with himself if he made her feel pressured or uncomfortable. What kind of monster couldn't wait to be intimate with her? It kept him up some nights, but he'd never tell her that. She felt guilty enough as it was during their waking hours, he couldn't add to her burden by telling her he couldn't sleep sometimes while thinking of the horror she went through, cuddling her to his side deeper as she slept soundlessly.

 So when she went to Harry and sat on his lap, curled up like a kitten, he was a bit taken aback. He loved a cuddle and was one of the snuggliest creatures she had ever had the pleasure of meeting, but they usually only cuddled once they were in bed, where she felt the safest. He didn't dare protest, silently complying and raising a hand to get lost in her hair, petting his fingers against her scalp lightly.

 "What's on your mind, pet?" Harry rasped quietly, voice tired from the full day he'd had at work. She had been home all day, thinking of ways to break the conversation, fibbing and telling him she was skipping the day's class to stay at his flat and complete her essay, bringing her one step closer to her master's degree.

 "Just thinking. I love you, I've just been thinking about you all day." She admits softly, pressing a kiss to his neck just below his ear.  

 He feels a blush run over his cheeks, feels himself inflate with affection and giddiness, much like a puppy getting its belly scratched. He couldn't help the goofy smirk adorning his lips, he just felt too good not to.

 "Yeah, baby? I love you. I'm so crazy about you. You're always on my mind." He tells her, not caring how utterly lovesick he comes across at times.

 She flushes, though it comes with a tingle that travels from the top of her head to the tips of her fingertips and toes. It's almost like she can physically feel his soul in hers and she feels alive. She truly can't help but give his neck another kiss, wetter this time, and joined by several others. He shudders and she feels it, making her blood sing in her veins. She couldn't remember a time where she felt so in love, so safe and so free. She felt like she and Harry could soar the greatest heights together, the pair of them unstoppable when they were together. It was an incredible feeling.

 "What are you after, baby?" He questioned, not wanting her to stop but also wanting to see where her head was at. He didn't want her to make a rash decision if she would end up regretting it later down the line.

 Instead of answering outright, she removes her face from his throat with one last kiss. Her eyes are doe-like and Harry's heart stutters. She'd never looked more radiant or confident than in that moment. Taking her lip between her teeth, she looks down between them to catch his big hand in her smaller ones. The air thickened instantly, the pair of them seemingly holding their breath.

 "Just.. wanna be close to you. Wanna love on you, if you let me," she purrs, causing the hairs on Harry's neck to come to a stand and his tummy to flutter. She can't be implying what I think she is? He thinks to himself. It's not that she's never shown her attraction to him, he just can't believe today could be the day he's finally allowed to touch her. He's thought about it countless times, dreamt of it even, and it nearly brings a tear to his eye that she finally, finally feels comfortable and safe enough to physically show him love.

"Yeah? Show me how you wanna love on me, princess." Harry breathes, light filling his green eyes. He wants her to show him exactly what she wants, willing to go to the ends of the earth for his girl to be whatever she wanted.

 She's back to feeling shy, not really knowing how to initiate this. She knows he'd take the ropes if she were to hand them over, but they both know how important it is that she takes control at this moment. This is her choice.

She looks into his eyes and her breath stalls at the look of love he's sending her. She dives back in, kissing Harry with a fervour he's never felt from her. He can practically taste the lust dripping from her tongue onto his. Gingerly, she presses herself against his lap where he's already sporting a mainly solidly stiff prick. As silly as she feels for it, the presence of it shocks her, ripping a gasp from her puffy lips. The feeling sends her into a frenzy, pulling back with wide eyes and a rapidly rising and falling chest to meet his gaze once more.

 "Mhm, you feel it? 'S for you. Always is," Harry admits with a blush. He's no stranger to dirty talk, but he wants to take precautions with her. He doesn't know how filthy he can be without sending her back into her shell.

 "I'm... Nervous," she admits, biting her lower lip once again and truly testing his resolve. Her lips were always a key part in his fantasies. Contrary to her words, she rocks herself onto his growing length, making the pair of them shiver.

 "You don't need to be nervous, princess. This is all you. We can do whatever you want and nothing more. The ball is in your court." Harry tells her softly, though now his voice has a gruffness to it that she's only heard early in the morning.

 "I want you, in every way. Stayed home to pluck up the courage to do summat about it. And to take a very, very thorough shower that involved a lot of bending and twisting to get everything shaved." She tells him, a raspberry blush appearing beneath the skin of her cheeks. He's in awe again, of his darling girl.

 "Cheeky thing. Lied to me about why you stayed home just so you could strategise how to jump m' bones?" Harry chuckles, grabbing her waist delicately before making the motion to stand.

 "Gonna bring me to bed?" She asks breathlessly, nerves still getting the better of her. But she won't let her fears and self-doubt get in the way of another night she could've spent wrapped up in her love. Not anymore.

 The moment she feels the plush mattress beneath her, she can breathe a bit steadier. Even if they hadn't used the bed for its extra-curricular purpose, it was still a major staple in their relationship. She knew this place, and she felt safe here.

 "Take off your clothes." She instructs simply. If she were to get through to the rewarding bit of this, she had to hurry and get to it already. The build-up was the worst part. His lip curls at the command as he does what she asks. He leaves himself in nothing but his tight black boxer-briefs, kneeling on the bed before advancing. Watching and waiting to see if she would ask him to do something else.

 "Come here, please," she begs of him, reaching an arm out to grasp the back of his neck. He's awfully careful as he crawls up the bed, hovering over her much smaller body, not putting an ounce of pressure on her.

 "I love you. I love you so much. I-I wish you could've actually been my first," she begins, but he stops her.

 "I will be." He assures her, "If you didn't say yes, it wasn't your first, princess. I know I've told y'that. This is what you'll think about when you think about your first. I promise you I won't let any other thought come up." His voice breaks as he cradles her face, finally dropping his body to rest against hers. The kiss he lands to her lips shatters her and mends her at once, feeling the love and healing he put into it.

 "Please, I don't know what I'm doing yet," she mumbles against his lips, grazing her hand along his length. He draws back to look at her once before he's moving down the bed again, placing kisses to her neck and gripping the bottom of her shirt. She can faintly hear him asking to undress her through the blood rushing to her ears and she nods. She may be inexperienced, but she isn't naive. She knows exactly what he's headed down to do, and more than anything, she's excited.

 "Aw, princess, s'this all for me?" Harry coos his rhetorical question softly upon seeing how incredibly aroused she'd become, kissing the softest and squidgiest bit of her thigh; right up top.

 "You know it is," she whimpers, threading her fingers through his thick strands. Before she's even finished her sentence, her panties were pulled from her hips. She ignores the unpleasantly familiar sensation of someone that isn't her taking them off. Harry. It's Harry.

 "God princess, might be down here a while..." Harry breathes, voice drunk. She peers up at him quickly enough to catch the strong drag of his tongue against her slippery lips. The noise she makes would've made him laugh in other circumstances, a squeak, instead he grunts and grinds his hips into the mattress. He might not even make it inside her before he's tapped out.

 The movement of his tongue picks up each time she squeezes the handful of hair in her grasp, which is quite often, and he's loving it. He doesn't think he'll ever get enough of her sweet peach now that he's had his tongue inside her. She can't describe the feeling, she just knows that she would be asking him to replicate his actions often. She tenses up as her clit makes its way into his mouth, hearing the filthy slurps and moans coming from his lips. She could finish just from the sound of him. She thrashes when she feels a finger tease the rim of her opening, subconsciously kicking at Harry's shoulder before he grabs her ankle and kisses it.

 "I's me, princess. S' just me. Let me make you feel good, sweet girl." His voice calms her immensely, shaking her head and focusing back on him. He's so good to her, it feels like karma's personal apology to her.

 "Sorry," she says sheepishly. She knew it would happen, she just hoped she hadn't ruined the mood. As if she ever could.

 No more words are spoken as she feels his finger back at her hole, lips leaving kisses to her lower tummy. He slides it in further than the rim this time, sucking her clit into his mouth to alleviate any discomfort she may have felt. He thrusts his finger in steadily, not too hard but definitely not as soft as he'd been at first. She appreciates him attempting to keep some normalcy.

 "Wait- Oh! Feels good, really good. Wanna feel you now, please-Please!" She nearly surrenders to her pleasure when he adds another finger, curling them right up against her spongy wall.

 "Gonna make you come first, princess." He tells her, not bothering to break away from her clit. The vibrations in combination with his unrelenting fingers send her spiralling over that edge she'd wanted to fall over with him. Her moans are strangled as she reaches her orgasm, the sound bringing Harry to a pile of mush below her, still working her through it.

 "Mmm," she tries to form words as he hovers back over her, but she can't seem to find any. She's overcome with a multitude of emotions that she suddenly can't convey. She feels loved, she feels proud, she feels safe and she feels clean.

 "Can pick this back up tomorrow, my love. You seem sedated." He jokes, kissing her lips and leaving behind a lingering taste of herself. She shakes her head, grabbing at his hips and pulling them down to her own.

 "Want it now," she breathes, kissing his neck where she knows he's the most sensitive. And who is he to argue with that? He's about to stand to get an emergency condom he keeps in his closet before she clears her throat. His attention is back on her immediately, looking for any signs of hesitation.

 "M' on the pill," she mutters shyly and Harry's jaw drops. He gets to have her and she'll be bare? This day could not get any better.

 "God, you're perfect. I love you," he reminds her, peppering kisses to every inch of her face possible before reaching down to take her hands and guide them to his pants. "You do this bit. You've waited long enough," Harry encourages her, slipping both their fingers into the band before letting go of hers.

 When she yanks them down, she's floored. That's what I've been missing? She thinks. It's thick and tall, standing between them with a certain strength and glory. He doesn't miss the look in her eye, but he doesn't call her out on it. He has all the time in the world to tease her about her awe of his cock another day.

  "Sure you want to do this?" Harry checks for the hundredth time. She kisses his nose and nods before taking a deep breath.

 "I'd never regret this. I'd regret if we didn't." She assures him, gripping his torso in one hand as to brace herself. He nods, knowing her word is final.

 He's gentle as he strokes himself and even gentler as he lines his cock up with her delicate little hole. He cannot believe he's about to have sex with the love of his life. He can't believe how lucky he is to be her first. Her real first. The first lover to have her this way, the only man who gets to say she's his.

 The initial push causes a sting to shoot through her lower half, throwing her mind to the last time she'd felt it, but she powers through. It's Harry. It's her lover. The man she trusts with her entire life. She hears his breath hitch instantly, only having pushed the tip and a bit more in. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, indulging in the feel of his girl before opening them to check on her.

 "You okay, beloved?" He asks, voice beyond strained. When she gives him a nod, he pushes more of himself into her until she's hitting his side. His head snaps to the side, expecting a look of fear or pain, but to his utter surprise, he sees a look of pure bliss. He knows he's up against her spot, feeling the rough patch massage his tip. He uses this knowledge to his advantage, bottoming out at this angle, catching the spot the entire time he glides in and sending her into a frenzy of sorts. Her legs instantly locking onto his hips, giving him little leeway to do much else but fuck into her right onto her spot. She clenches around him as he pulls back, almost like she didn't want him to move his hips away from hers for even a moment.

 "Feels, god! Feel so good, angel. My sweet baby, yeah? Feel good for you?" Harry rambles, nipping the skin of her neck to distract himself from blowing his load right then.

 She's a mess, physically unable to stay put for more than one thrust. She never thought she'd be doing this, never thought she'd even make it through the year last year. The fact that it's her Harry just pushing her further and further into space.

 "Mhm, so good. What, what are you doing? S' really nice. Does it always-?" She's a moaning mess as she replies, feeling a particularly solid strike at her beloved spot that she didn't know existed until now. He chuckles at the unintended compliment to his performance.

 "Feel this good? Nah, s' because we're in love," Harry begins, but the feeling was too overwhelming, causing the word 'love' to come out as if he'd been hit in the stomach with a steel baseball bat. As if the spoken emotional intimacy turned him on to a point he couldn't stop himself from coming. He couldn't help it as the feeling travelled from deep in his belly, shooting out all the love he could produce, spilling into his princess.

 "Mm, fuck Harry, I'm about to-" She moans at the feeling of his warmth spreading inside her and he cuts her off with the rapid movement of his nimble fingers down to her clit, still pistoning his hips into her, prick softening but still effective as she came.

 Harry collapsed on top of her, wrapping an arm around her back to press their bodies even closer. He was still inside of her and she could feel the spurts still going as she came down.

 "I'm so sorry... I literally couldn't stop myself from-" Harry begins, but she laughs. Laughs like she hadn't laughed in a year. A genuine laugh that drew tears from her eyes and an ache to form in her belly. His cheeks and ears grew red as she continued to laugh, thinking she was laughing at his premature end.

 "Hey, it happens to a lot of guys! And I got you off again, don't make fun of me," he pouts, beginning to retract his arm from around her before she grabs a hold of it.

 "Not laughing at you, doughnut. I love you so much, and you did get me off again. I'm laughing because I feel, I don't know. Clean." She admits, kissing his temple.

 "After that? Should feel right sticky, I know I do," Harry gests, leaving her a kiss to her own temple before pulling out slowly. She gasps at the hollow feeling, but she has an inkling he may not mind filling her right back up whenever she wanted.

 "You know what I mean." She rolls her eyes, allowing his arms to encompass her.

 "I know, baby. I'm glad you found the strength in yourself to do this. And not just because you let me shag ya." Harry hums, kissing the crown of her head.

 "You're an idiot," she teases. She couldn't be more in love if she tried.

"'M your idiot."

 And yeah, maybe the idiot had a point.

-- 

Thank you for reading! This was a little difficult to write for personal reasons, but I hope this piece was alright! Please share your feedback/thoughts!

[allegra-writes]

Just my type

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

Peter Parker x Villain!Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

The request:

This is actually a combination of two different requests An anonymous reader who asked for a dominant reader and @asuperconfusedgirl who wanted an imagine about the "let's try that again" gifset, because, I quote: "Damn!". I wholeheartedly agree. This might be a little darker and shorter than you're used to from me, but I wanted to do something different. Hope you still like it🔥

“More than meet the eye, to tell the truth would be a lie”

Just My Type - The Vamps

Peter didn't know how he had gotten here: One minute, he was just dodging another one of Flash's caustic remarks, minding his own business, just trying to get out of one field trip unscathed; and the next he was here... With you, the new girl, on his lap bouncing on his cock, in broad daylight on the top floor of the bus. Where anyone could come up at any minute. Where anyone could see.

It was wrong. It was dangerous. It was insanely hot.

And you were relentless: Labored breath, fine sheen of sweat covering your face and your breasts, but you still showed no sign of being tired or slowing down, chasing your release. Riding him, using him, mercilessly. And he knew he didn’t have any experience whatsoever so his input would probably be useless, but there was still one thing he could do.

He put his hands on your waist, to help you ride him faster, bunching the fabric of your pretty dress a little, making it ride up your thighs just enough to give him a glimpse of his thick cock disappearing inside you. He moaned at the sight, but you quickly slapped his hands away.

“Remember the rules, Peter…” You reminded him, breathily, “touch me, and this is over…”

“No… no, please!” He begged, pathetically, “please, I’ll be good… I promise!”

“Atta boy” You approved, leaning over to place a little kiss on his lips, surprisingly chaste for your current activities, “And good boys get their rewards…”

You tighten your pussy muscles up, tearing a groan out of his throat. You pushed him around until he was lying flat across both seats, his head pillowed by the window. Satisfied with his new position, you leaned back a little, reaching behind you to cup his balls under your dress.

“Fuck!.. oh fuck! Right there!” he sobbed, “right there!”

“Shh, I know, baby,” You cooed, soothingly, “I know…”

“I-I’m gonna…”

“Oh no, Spidey. You are going to wait your fucking turn” You reprimanded him, turning your massages into a hard squeeze that had him crying out. An alarm went off inside Peter’s head at you calling him 'Spidey', but soon your punishing rhythm and strong grip on the base of his cock had him rolling his eyes inside his skull, brain melted into a useless puddle of goo.

You weren’t any better, jumping up and down his hard length, your clit hitting your knuckle every time you took him in all the way, the sharp sting of the head of his cock colliding with your cervix giving you the extra edge you needed for the tight coiled spring inside you to finally snap.

You could have ended it right then, after all, you had already gotten yours. But he had been so obedient, so good… He deserved a reward. Besides, it was going to be easier if you tired him out. Yeah, those were the only reasons.

Or at least, that’s what you told your self as you braced yourself placing both hands on his muscular chest, drool worthy even hidden as it was under his plaid shirt, and rocked your hips in short quick strokes, your sensitized walls fluttering around him in the tiny aftershocks of your orgasm.

Peter’s hands were blindly searching for purchase, and one of them found it on the edge of the seat he was lying on. You heard it crack under the force of his grasp and knew that, as reckless as you were being, you had been smart in not letting him put his hands on you.

“So good… you’re so good… oh, fuuu-“ His voice was pitched high and you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. You leaned over him to whisper at his ear,

“Come for me, baby” Baby? You frowned. Where had the endearment come from? He wasn’t your baby. He wasn’t yours, period. You would do better to remember what you were doing this for. “Come on Peter, come all inside me…”

It was all it took, almost as if he was waiting for your order. You felt his hips involuntarily thrust up into you as he came with a final curse.

“Woah… Oh God!” He was breathless, completely spent, melting into the seats, “That was… let’s… let’s try that again!”

That made you chuckle despite yourself. You hated to admit it, he was cute. And that debauched, fucked out look was really hot on him.

Peter’s brain was trying to get through the fog, trying to pin point exactly what felt wrong, you saw it on his eyes. It was a shame, really, you could have bask in the afterglow for a little longer if it wasn’t for your earlier slip-up. You probably didn’t have more than a few seconds before he remembered you calling him Spidey, so you reached for your backpack under the seats and pulled a small golden cylinder out of it.

As you opened it and applied your lipstick, you noticed Peter’s eyes on you.

“What?” You asked a little harsher than you probably needed.

“Nothing, it’s just… God, you’re so pretty!” Peter reached for your face, cupping your cheek and you allowed yourself to lean into his touch a little.

“Really? You like me?”

Peter nodded. Your smile turned a little sharper,

“And what about my lipstick, you like this shade?”

The question struk him as a little weird, but, whatever, it wasn’t as if he actually understood girls most of the time.

He nodded again,

“It’s almost as pretty as you”

Your smile was definitely wolfish now.

“Thank you! It’s vintage, you know?” You commented casually. He perked up at that; he liked vintage things too. Granted, he liked vintage computers and videogames, but maybe you guys could find something in common.

Emboldened by that thought, he chanced snaking his arms around your waist. His heart did a little jump when you didn’t immediately removed them.

“Really? That’s pretty cool!”

“Yes, it’s from the forties, actually” You explained, “This specific shade was a favorite amongst the female agents of the SSR. You know, the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Later known as SHIELD…”

Peter’s blood turned to ice, and his grip around your waist, vicelike. There were no traces of the lazy, spent smile on his face, or of the adoration that up until two seconds ago had shone bright in his eyes.

“Who are you?” He demanded, tightening his hold on you minutely. To his surprise, you didn’t struggle or tried to get away: You did the exact opposite thing, wrapping your own arms around his neck and leaning in closer.

“Wanna know the name of this shade?” You breathed against his lips, right before capturing them in an open mouthed kiss, slow and dirty, and by far the most sensual one you had ever shared.

By the time you released his lips, his head was spinning. No, wait, it wasn’t his head, it was the whole bus. Scratch that, it was the whole world. Your smirk as you looked down on him, the only thing on focus, everything else was blurring, shifting and twisting fast.

“It’s called 'Sweet dreams'…”

Realization dawned on him as the blackness overtook him, you had drugged him. With your lipstick.

“Who are you?” The demand came out as more of a beg. You sighed.

“I'd tell you the truth, Peter, I'd do” You confessed, “But even that would be a lie”

The last thought on Peter’s disjointed mind before succumbing to unconsciousness was that at least now no one could make fun of him for being the last virgin on senior class anymore.

You knew it was a mistake, letting him live. Just as you knew it was a mistake as you were climbing into his lap in the first place. Your soft spot for Peter Parker was a weakness, a dangerous one that would surely come back and bite you in the ass some day. But he wasn’t the enemy, not really, and your mother had thought you to minimize the casualties anyway; people weren’t numbers, they weren’t “collateral damage”, they were sons and daughters and brothers and mothers, they were someone’s whole world.

Just as your mother had been your whole world, before she was taken away from you.

And now, thanks to Peter Parker, you had exactly what you needed to find the real responsible for your mother’s death, and make him pay. You took the glasses from his face and put them on. They remained unresponsive but it didn’t matter, you were a hacker the likes of which the world hadn’t seen since Daisy Johnson, your мамочка had said so herself. If there was anyone in this world capable of hacking into the interface, it was you.

You finally stood from Peter’s lap, letting him slip out of you, and tucking him back into his pants, cause you figured he was going to be plenty humiliated once he woke up, he didn’t need the losers of his school to make fun of him anymore than they already did. You hurried to get your things and jump out of the bus, knowing that with his peculiar metabolism, he was going to burn through the narcotic a lot faster than a regular man.

And if you felt the smallest pang of regret as you saw the bus driving away, or if you dreamt about Peter Parker for weeks after your little encounter, well, no one actually needed to know.

To be continued...

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

A Letter from Home: Utivich x Fem!Reader

Requested by @jiejie-eonni-onee-sama

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tammykelly @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho @spookybearlandtaco

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

************** April, 1943 ************** The basterds had been a team and off the grid for nearly a year. Still, those months seemed like a lifetime, being so far from home, and without even a letter or phone call to make their days a little warmer. It had been a harsh winter, but the snow was clearing away now. In its place came the spring and its rains. The basterds missions were successes. Day in and day out, they were the best soldiers no one had heard of. They were changing that. Soon, the nazis would shake just from hearing their names. But, there was a name that Smithson Utivich had yet to hear, from a letter that was accepted only by fortune's hand. 

The boys were sneaking through a small town at the edge of France, where Aldo was receiving top secret documents from a nameless, faceless contact from the OSS. "Oh and uh," the agent held up a small envelope between his two fingers. It wasn't sealed anymore. It had been opened, its contents examined through lines of top agents, just to make sure it was safe. "This is for one of your boys. Utivich." Aldo raised an eyebrow. He didn't think they could get letters all the way out there. The agent nodded once, confirming the thought. "Just this once, lieutenant." Aldo nodded, and looked down at the papers in his hands. Men had been killed for that information. There was no indication that would stop. Before Aldo even had the chance to give the letter to Utivich, shots were fired. Nazis wanted those classified documents, and they were willing to do anything to get them. Smitty turned around, "O-OMAR!" But he wasn't quick enough. He wasn't able to push his friend out of the way before a bullet hit him. By the time it was all over, the basterds had been able to rush to one of their hideouts, and Wicki was able to stitch Omar up. Smitty was standing outside, under the rusty tin roof as water dripped from the roof, and the sun set behind the gloomy clouds. "Got sum' here for ya, son." He was startled at first, then confused. "A letter? But-" "I know, I know. Must be important," Aldo handed it over. Smitty studied it. There were blots of raindrops still drying out. It got a little crumpled up in all the commotion. And...it wasn't sealed, but he understood why. He turned it around, and his heart skipped a beat. He recognized that handwriting. It was from you... He loved you, and missed you with all his heart, but what could possibly have been so important that the OSS allowed him to get the letter? "What'cha got there?" Donny stepped outside, slicing up an apple with a pocketknife, followed by Hugo, Wicki, and Hirschberg. "It's a letter. It's from Y/n." "Y/n? Ain't that your girl?" Hirschberg chuckled as he pulled up a chair and sat, watching the rain slow and the night set in. Hugo frowned, not having received a letter from his wife, he wondered if the rules had changed. "Why'd you get a letter?" Wicki sighed, "Well, give the kid a chance to read it at least." He read it. He read every word as if it were the last thing he'd read. He could almost hear your voice. He missed it, more than he ever thought he could possibly miss anything. But, now he'd realize there was something else he missed. Something he didn't even expect. The letter was three months old by the time he got it.

"I'm..." "Well shit, son, si'down!" Aldo basically kicked Hirschberg off the single chair they owned, and carefully pulled the pale, panicky Utivich down. "C'mon! What's it say?!" Hirschberg at least wanted to know why he'd been kicked off the chair. Donny took the letter and skimmed it. "Fuck a duck..." But it wasn't the letter that had knocked Smitty down. It was the picture he was still looking at intently, trying to memorize every detail, the glimmering eyes, the smiles... He hadn't been able to breathe since he saw it. But he hadn't stopped smiling since. "That's your girl?" Hirschberg peeked over his shoulder, shocked that Smitty could do that well. "Hey cute kid! Wh....WAIT A MINUTE. IS THAT-" Smitty nodded, smiling, still in shock, "That's my son..." He never wanted to let go of that picture. He thought he only had one reason to go back home. Marrying you was something he'd dreamt of from the moment he met you, way back in high school. But now, he had two. His baby boy, and you. His name was Joseph, but you called him Joey. You had to name him on your own, and you hoped Smitty liked it. He couldn't wait to tell you he loved it. The basterds loved it too. Donny, frankly, was already planning on teaching the kid how to be the best damn batter anyone ever saw. Wicki laughed and said, "The kid's gotta learn how to walk first, you know." They didn't have champagne and cigars to celebrate, but rationed cigarettes and stolen beer was the best they could do. They didn't have something special to drink to very often, but this time, this letter, this photograph, was the exception. But to Utivich, it was more than that. Late that night, it was his turn to keep watch, and keep an eye on Omar. Smitty was standing by the entrance, gun at the ready in one hand, but his eyes, and mind on the picture in his other hand. "Smitty?" He cleared his throat and quickly slipped the picture into his chest pocket. "Sarge?" "You're uh, gonna have to stay awake plenty now that you and the missus got a kid at home. I'll take over." "Ah, Donny, you don't have to. I uh.." "Hey, what's the matter, kid?" Donny frowned as he sat by his friend. "I uh," Utivich shook his head, "I just never seem to be where I need to be." "Hey, kid," Donny sighed, and set his hand on Smitty's shoulder, "Don't worry 'bout Omar. He's fine. These things happen." Donny knew Smitty had a lot to think about in a single day. He was sure Smitty was worrying about you, how you'd handled it all alone. Donny had a niece, and he remembered how worried his sister was, "Hey, I mean...From what you told us about Y/n, she's doin' fine. Her and Joey are safe cause of guys like you, alright? You'll be home some day." Smitty nodded, wondering when some day would come. ******** 1945 ******** The basterds got their medals of honor. After all this time, it felt strange to go their ways, but it was still a wonder they made it so far. Utivich ran to you the moment he saw you. He held on tight for what seemed like forever. When he finally did pull away, he opened his eyes, and saw the face of his son for the first time. You were holding Joey, he was two years old now. He was a shy kid, maybe even a little scared. All the fireworks, all the photographers' flashes of lights, all the crowds probably played a part. When Joey cried, it broke Smitty's heart. "Hey, " Smitty thought he'd cry himself for a moment, "Hey Joey..." Your son looked up at his father for the first time.  "It's ok, Joey..." Smitty let go of you slowly, and wrapped his arms around his boy for the first time, and picked him up. Joey stopped crying, and even smiled after a bit. He recognized the man in the uniform. He'd seen the picture every day, after all. It was the only picture of Smitty in uniform that you had. It was by the radio in the livingroom where you and Joey sat in, every evening. He didn’t pay attention much, but you listened carefully for any signs or clues about Smitty’s whereabouts.   "Dad!" That was when it hit Utivich. He teared up a little, his hug got a little tighter. He glanced at you, and murmured, "I'm a dad..." You nodded, as you held Smitty and Joey. Your cheek rested on Smitty's, "You're a dad." By the time you flew home, it was well past Joey's bedtime. Smitty put his duffel bag on the ground of the apartment he'd never been in. It was the place you and Joey had called home for two years. It was small, but it was enough. Utivich looked around, having dreamed of marrying you, bringing you to a big house. Things didn't go exactly his way, but for now, this was more than enough. He'd sleep in a real bed. He was surrounded by family, not enemies. He wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night to an alarm and boots on the ground, but you did give him a fair warning that Joey was an early bird, and would probably waltz into the room along with the sun. Smitty was ok with that. Still, he only watched you give Joey some juice, give him a bath, and help him into his pajamas, and tell him a story. Smitty felt like he was behind a mirror, far from you and Joey. He worried for a moment that there really was no place for him. As he settled back into life outside of war, that feeling would chase him. After some time, he'd realize only you and Joey could help him outrun it. "Smitty?" He snapped out of it, and looked at you. You recognized those eyes, though they were clouded with worries that were unfamiliar to you. You walked toward him, your hand rested on his cheek, and he felt his heart slow down for the first time since he was deployed. He took a breath, and your kind smile warmed his heart as you whispered, "Joey wants you to tell him a story." "M-me?" You took his hands in yours, and laughed as you reassured him, "He's getting a little bored with mine!" Smitty laughed as he sat by Joey, "Boring? Your mama? Never!" Joey smiled a little, though he wasn't very talkative with Smitty yet. "Once upon a time, there was a group of friends who went on adventures, and saved the world. There was a bear, a little man, an Apache, and-" As he told his son a story, Joey's eyes lit up, he smiled, and then the long hours reeled him in and carried him off to sleep. You kissed Smitty on the forehead, "You did it." He nodded, though you could tell he still nervous when you both stood at the door. Smitty was an only child, he never really had younger cousins to look after either. Taking care of a kid was brand new to him. And on top of that, after the war, after all the blood and the scalps, he didn't know if he could really handle something so small, so fragile. "I haven't been where I needed to be, Y/n. I'm sorry." "No, no..." You shook your head, and held him. "You have always been where you had to be." Your hands rested on the side of his face, and he sighed with a soft smile. Your hand rested on his chest, over his medal of honor, "If you weren't, the war might not even be over now. But it is. It's all over now. You're here... you're home." "Home..." He smiled, and he meant it. He hadn't seen you in years, and he'd never known his son. He knew what he did in France changed history, but his story would never have been the same without you. You and Joey were the only reason he was still alive. He'd never been in that apartment before, but he'd seen you and Joey in his dreams every night. Wherever you were, it was the place he'd call home. And now, as he kissed you, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

[takadasaiko]

Natalie (a Superman & Lois oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Clark didn't realize how difficult it would be to meet her, even if she wasn't their Natalie.

Natalie

He had dreamt about her over the years. Sometimes she was a newborn baby in his arms, looking up at him with all the wonder that Jordan and Jonathan had had when they were born and other times he caught glimpses of her moving in and through their lives as if she'd been there all along. She had her mother's smile and his eyes, dark hair that she wore in braided pigtails. She would laugh and play and take him by the hand and pull him along. A ghost of the little girl he'd never gotten to meet that echoed through his dreams so full of life that it left him with an ache deep in his chest when he woke. Lois had only asked once and he'd brushed it off as best he could. He hated that. They had a marriage where everything was shared, but this… he didn't think he could ever really understand the weight of the burden she felt in the wake of their daughter's death and he couldn't bring himself to add to it. He didn't think he had that right.

She had faded over time, that laugh that he had never actually heard dwindling into the background of their nonstop existence. Of the boys and work and a world that needed Superman. Clark still thought about her - he would always think about her - but as the years flew by it had become…. maybe not easier, but he'd be one accustomed to the ache. It was just a part of life he'd lived, much like his dad's death and like his mom's was slowly becoming. She'd always said that sometimes you had to sit with the pain, and he had for over twelve years. It had become part of him, and he thought he understood what it meant.

Until John Henry Irons had come crashing into their lives with his world following like dangerous shadows at his heels. A dead wife that looked like Lois and a child…..

Natalie.

Clark hadn't realized how hard it would be to see her. She wasn't their Natalie, he knew that, but he saw Lois in her and traces of her family in the same way he could spot the lineage in their boys. She had her father's eyes - John Henry's - and - even if not his Lois - Lois' smile, just as his dreaming mind had always thought she would. There were mannerisms and word choices, pieces of her personality that broke his heart in ways he couldn't have predicted. After the hell they'd all been through with Tal-Rho and the Kryptonian consciousnesses, one of the silver linings that had emerged was that the teenager was as resilient as her father and had made it out alive even when their world was destroyed. They were stranded on this earth, but at least they weren't alone. That should have been cause for celebration. It was in a way, but in the wake of nearly losing everything, Clark couldn't quite muster the strength to push the bitter out of the bittersweet.

"John says that he should have the trailer repaired by tomorrow."

Lois' voice startled him out of his thoughts and he looked up from his seat on their porch to find a glass of wine extended. He managed the smallest of smiles as he took it. "The boys aren't going to be happy to hear that."

Lois hummed a soft agreement as she took her seat to his right and set the bottle down on the table between them. "They've really warmed up to her. Jon referred to her as their sister earlier."

"I heard."

"She's a sweet kid."

It was Clark's turn for the non verbal reply as he tried to hide it behind a long sip from his glass.

"You were my rock when we lost her," Lois said quietly, drawing his gaze to her. She wasn't looking at him, but instead those sharp hazel eyes were fixed on the shadows in the fields. "I know I… withdrew a lot. I know I didn't want to talk about it. You never forced it, but you were always right there when I needed you to be. Ready to catch me when I fell." Her voice trembled and Clark reached out with his free hand to touch hers. She readily took it and squeezed before turning to look at him. "How did you do it?"

"I didn't do much. Just listened," he answered softly.

"Dr Wiles thinks I haven't processed my grief fully. I talked to her about it a few weeks ago after Jon nearly…." She squeezed her eyes closed and Clark steeled himself into patiently waiting for her to find the words. As he waited, he lifted her hand to press a kiss to her knuckles. Lois choked out part laugh, part sob. "See? You always know just what to do, but I can't remember you ever talking about it. Just listening."

"Some things hurt too much to talk about." The words had escaped before he'd realized they were on their way and he swallowed the newly forming lump in his throat down hard. He had wanted to listen, wanted to ease her pain in any way he could, but somewhere deep inside he'd known why he didn't want to focus on his own thoughts. They swirled now, darker than he liked, and he focused on the sound of Lois' heartbeat and the way her skin felt as he traced his thumb over her knuckles. Anything but the building sadness that threatened. "What did Dr Wiles say?"

"That it wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't."

Her heart beat sped up and she adjusted her grip on his hand as she spoke quickly, the words crashing together like a pileup on the freeway. "It was. She's living proof it was. Her mother took care of her, protected her. She—"

Clark set his wine glass aside. "Most miscarriages are a genetic issue."

"That's what Dr Wiles said."

"Losing Natalie wasn't your fault."

"So what, she lives and our daughter dies? Why?"

"Because of me."

The words that he'd never dared to voice hung sharply between them and he loosed his grip on her hand, reaching to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Was that what a headache felt like?

"Clark… it's not—"

"Don't," he managed, his voice more desperate than he would have liked. "Don't say it's not my fault. Please. I'm the different genetic factor. We didn't even know if we could… and then the boys. I just thought…. I thought…. I was wrong. I was wrong and she's gone and that's my fault, not yours. It's never been yours."

He heard her stand, even if his mind didn't fully process it until she was kneeling in front of him so that he was looking at her. She reached up and snuck her thumb under his glasses to catch an escaped tear. "Hey."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Lois, it's —"

"I watched you give up your life for us when Edge found us, and I know you would have protected her the same way if you'd had the chance. Losing Natalie was something that happened to us, not because of us. We have two healthy teenage boys as proof of that."

Clark pulled in a trembling breath and reached out, finding her hands instantly latching onto his own.

"Hey."

He blinked, clearing his vision so he could meet her eyes.

"New promise, okay? On top of the one we made years ago about being honest."

"What's that?"

"We don't hold anything back, especially when it hurts too much to talk about."

He quirked a dark eyebrow at that and Lois' lips tilted at one corner.

"Okay, so you're going to have to hold me to that more than I will you, but let's try. Okay? We shouldn't have to feel like this alone."

He gave a small nod. "I love you."

"I love you too." She stood, but only long enough to take a seat in his lap. Clark wrapped his arms around her to pull her in, but she was already reaching for their discarded glasses. "And you thought we were done with these."

He chuckled, taking the offered glass and feeling her lean back into him. The ache would never fully go away, but somehow it felt lighter than it had before. Less overwhelming. He wasn't sure Lois was right, but she believed it, and sharing it with her gave him hope that maybe he'd taken the first step to work through it. They had always been stronger when they faced the fight together.

End.

----

Notes: When Dr Wiles told Lois in 1.08 that most miscarriages were a result of a genetic issue, not something she had done, I couldn't shake the thought that the major genetic difference between John Henry's Natalie and Lois and Clark's Natalie was in her father, especially considering the fact that Clark isn't human. The thought resurfaced in 1.11 in the flashback of Lois telling Clark that they were pregnant and how they hadn't known for sure it was possible, and here we are, just over 1400 later.

[blu-joons]

Finding Out You Can’t Have Children ~ Kim Taehyung

The card ride was silent all the way home, neither of you had the strength to speak, your cheeks were stained from tears, your bodies were numb from the turmoil of it all, barely able to carry yourselves into your home.

You sat on the sofa whilst Taehyung sat at the dining table, brushing his hands through his hair several times. “I wish I knew what to say right now, but I don’t think I’ll be able to say the right thing.”

“What is there to say, there’s nothing we can do to change what we’ve been told.”

“There’s got to be something we can do, maybe they’ve made a mistake or something, I refuse to believe just like that we can’t have kids,” he spoke, slamming his fists down on the table.

You jumped, turning back at him as he leaned back in his chair, his tears fell once more which he quickly wiped away with the sleeves of his jumper, it shattered you seeing him in such a way.

“I know that you want to have children,” you whispered, taking a steady breath, “and I would understand if you wanted to walk away because of this.” His head shot up, eyes wide, staring at you as you spoke. “We’ve always dreamt about having kids together, and just because I can’t anymore doesn’t mean I want to hold you back and stop you having children too. We don’t both have to miss out, there would be someone else who could give you what you want, someone a lot better than me. I can’t hold you back now Taehyung, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and now we’ve got a definite answer, I know it’s the right thing to do.”

As soon as you finished speaking, he was out of his chair, running to join you on the sofa, wrapping his arms tightly around you, his tears rolling down his cheeks, landing on the top of your head.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he sobbed, “there’s no way I would ever leave you, I can’t do it.”

You shook your head, staring down at his hands that clasped around your waist. “Taehyung, we have to face reality, I’m infertile, we’re not going to be able to have children together, you can’t stay, I don’t want you to be here just because you pity me or feel trapped.”

He couldn’t leave you, not because of this, or anything else, regardless of the situation you faced, you were his. He didn’t want to leave, because he loved you, throughout it all.

“I’m staying because I choose you, if we can’t have children, it’s just the way it was meant to be,” he told you, kissing the top of your head, “we’ll find a way to get through this in time, together we’ll figure it all out.”

“I always thought having a family would be easy, all the conversations we’ve had about what our kids will be like, look like, and now all of those talks were in vain, for nothing.”

Slowly, it was becoming harder and harder for him to keep himself strong, the light sobs that came from you in his arms were horrific, nothing was worse than listening to that sound, all he wanted to do was make things right for the two of you.

It was a harsh reality, one the two of you didn’t deserve, but you had to face what was coming to you, nothing could be done to change it. “I feel empty Tae, I don’t know what to do now.”

“Neither do I, but over time, we’ll learn. It’s just going to take a bit of time for us to get adjusted to this news, we’ll figure things out, it’s going to involve a lot of talking, but I promise that in a million years I will never leave you, we’re married for a reason, I made my vows to stick to them, nothing is going to change that.”

You turned in his arms so you could look up at him, feeling his arms unwind from around you, the pads of his thumbs coming up to wipe away your tears. Your frame was cold and shaken to the core, bringing a weak smile on his face.

“I love you Tae,” you whispered, stretching up to peck his cheek. “You’re the best.”

“I love you too, always remember that. There are loads of different routes we can take from here, adoption, surrogacy, this isn’t the end. We could be one of those lucky ones too that defy the doctors and end up pregnant, I’ve seen it happen.”

You adored his optimism, but you couldn’t feel the same, if, you were incredibly lucky to have your own baby you would be thrilled, but as the doctors had told you, the chances were minimal, there was no reason to even imagine that something like that could happen.

“Why do we always get the bad luck? Why can’t something good happen to the two of us?” You questioned, tucking your head under his. “What did we do that was so wrong?”

“Nothing, we’ve done nothing wrong,” he comforted, “sometimes the world is just cruel, we’ve been dealt a horrible hand, but we’ve got to make the most of it.”

You nodded, resting your legs over his long limbs. “I just wish that things could be different, it hurts knowing that I’m the problem, I am the one that has bought this to the relationship, I’m the one that isn’t good enough to be able to have a baby.”

“You’re more than good enough?”

“Am I?” You cried out, “because according to those doctors, clearly I am not. My body isn’t capable of having a baby, I’m infertile, there’s nothing I can do, and that’s what hurts the most knowing that this is down to me.”

“Please don’t beat yourself up,” he hushed, shaking your body lightly to calm you down. “You didn’t ask for this, this is by no fault of your own, you are incredible, just because this has happened, doesn’t change any of that.”

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I know what you’re saying, and it’s easy for you to say, you could still have children if you want to, but for me, it’s impossible, zero chance of it ever happening, I feel like a huge part of me has been taken.”

He understood, he had no idea how hard it was for you, you were right, he did have the chance, but he was never going to take that chance because he wanted to be with you, a part of him had been taken too, especially seeing you so hurt.

“Do you think some day we’ll have a family? However, we can have one?”

“Definitely,” he smiled, “we don’t need to have that conversation now, that’s something for another day. Right now, I think the two of us just need to take each day step by step, it hurts now, but I promise that it will get easier.”

“We’ll get through this Tae, won’t we?”

He nodded, kissing the top of your head, “we will. I’m right by your side, through the good days and the bad, we’ll overcome this together, just like we always do.”

---

Masterlist

[unholyplumpprincess]

Sunny Side Up

For my baby @kiwi--bot ! It’s a lil late Valentine’s gift of our Destiny ocs :D

Summary: Honey knows Apollo, she’s so sure of it. She knows that voice, she knows their eyes, she knows their warmth. Yet Apollo strains away, seeming to toy with her it feels like- a possible misunderstanding that can be solved with a bit of sunshine and conversation.

Fandom: Destiny 2

Relationship: Honey (Oc)/Apollo (Oc)

Warnings: SFW, hurt/comfort-esque situation, soulmates, mentions/hint of Apollo getting frisky with people but nothing explicit

Words: 3k

________________________

Apollo was damaged. 

That much Honey understood. She’d worked with Exos near all her life, working alongside Banshee in her own shop- she knew the first signs of memory loss and corrupted internal workings. Of course, Exos were just as alive as she was, just as alive as an Awoken, just as alive and breathing as anyone else. Honey had taken to putting sticky notes up for Banshee to ensure he remembered things, jotting notes down and helpfully reminding him whenever she’d pass by. 

Apollo? Apollo had been different than just reminding them of things. They seemed attached at the hip to Honey, not that she really minded, company was fine in her book. And having someone so chatty to fill the quiet air while she worked on her mods was rather nice. Especially looking over and seeing them sat up on one of the counters, swinging their legs in their expensive outfits and happily chatting of a story she’d already heard once or twice. 

They were flirty, that wasn’t missed by Honey. How their hands would slide into Honey’s curly hair to absentmindedly push it behind her pierced ears, or they’d take her hands and bounce up and down in excitement about buying her new things. Or how sometimes they’d stand a bit too close, not quite looming despite their tall height, but being close enough it made Honey’s cheeks flush beneath the dark grease when she was working. 

But. Honey was no fool. 

~Rest under the cut~

Apollo flirted quite openly with anyone they found attractive. Hook ups that Honey got to hear of as they happily chatted and swung their legs and Honey could feel the ugly sharp fangs of jealousy enclose around her heart. “That’s nice, sugar.” She’d say while torching a piece of metal and thanking that her blast shield was down to hide her furrowed brows. 

Love was...absent from Honey’s life. Getting her heart broken wasn’t on her To Do list. Oswald, her beloved ghost- may the light bless him always- was her companion. When she’d go to sleep, Oswald was right next to her on her nightstand on his own specially made pillow. Often times she’d fall asleep with her hand curled around him lightly, as if afraid he would ever leave her in the night. 

Honey didn’t quite tend to take the hints from people if they did like her, and when she did, when she finally gave it a shot, there was always complaints. She worked too much, she didn’t spend enough time with them, she was out on missions, how come she always followed Cayde’s orders to a T? And then the worst was when he...when he passed. A person she’d been seeing at the time had brought up how she had no right to be grieving that long. 

So now. Love was absent from Honey’s life. No one ever fit, no one clicked quite that well with her, and she started to believe that her need to work hard would always get in the way of any sort of relationship. So, she didn’t. Happy to just be with Oswald and surrounded by her plants and get up and go be a Guardian where she was needed to lead. 

And yet. Apollo was always there. Even if Honey said she was busy, they’d happily twirl in their cute new expensive cloak, “Don’t be silly!!!! I’ll come sit with you- I HAVE to show you all my new cute outfits! Look at this one already!” And they’d follow her, working with her schedule just to spend time with her. 

Boreas, Apollo’s ghost and glorified babysitter- according to him- took quite nicely to Oswald in turn. Allowing them both to mingle off to the side. Although Honey is pretty sure Oswald has a crush on the poor ghost, often times hearing the quick shushing of Boreas and Oswald’s soft, whispery laugh. 

Honey had awoken in this life with a mission in her heart she never understood. This frantic feeling and whispering in her body of ‘Where are they?!’. All her life she thought this was her need to keep Oswald beside her. And now when she looked at Apollo, she wasn’t...so sure. 

They shouldn’t have crossed her mind as a potential romantic partner. They were everything she was not. Loud, excitable, always wanting to shop and never having to work. Able to flirt and go out. But ever since she’d found them with Calus, it’s like she knew them. Anytime they said her name, it was like her first time hearing it be said. When they chirped their various pet names for her like calling her a flower, how if anyone else were to say those things to Honey, she’d brush them off. 

And then just last week, what was putting Honey through all this turmoil, was Apollo showing her a symbol they drew. Explaining fondly that they’d always dreamt of this symbol and that they thought it was pretty. Going so far as to pull their choker from Calus aside to reveal the symbol of a sun on their upper chest. 

The exact. Same. Symbol. That Honey had woken up tattooed with on her upper spine. 

The same sun. The same pattern. The same one that Honey saw whenever she’d try to dig up research on her old life, assuming it had just been associated with her tattoo. And then she was looking at the exact same shape on Apollo’s chest. 

It could have been coincidence, Honey tried to tell herself that day, only offering a few words. It could have been coincidence; She tries to tell herself as she desperately searched through her numerous journals that night of what she’d written down of her findings. Staring at her underlined notes with question marks when she’d found words hinting that she was married to someone in her old life. All the curious articles implying she’d been married to someone just like Apollo. 

Apollo liked her, that much Honey understood. Apollo flirted with her just as much as anyone else, but then would go in seek of someone else to have a fling with. Something that always hurt Honey quietly. 

And they couldn’t have known- could they? What if Honey was just hopeful? What if her findings weren’t entirely accurate? But a remark from Oswald confirms that she had always triple checked her findings. But if- if Apollo WAS that person she’d been married to- that was the past. That was the past, she’s sure tons of other people walking around had been married in the past and just didn’t know. 

Night after night of trying to explain these thoughts to herself, tearing herself apart over it and Oswald pressing his shell to her cheek fondly as she’d let tears spill down her face. Soulmates were just a concept; They were Guardians for goodness sake! She just wanted to know her past for herself. And yet... 

Now she’s looking at Apollo twirling their long cloak in their fingers and leaning on a wall as they giggle at some cute titan. Honey has seen this song and dance before, where Apollo bats their pretty eyes and talks someone into something. She’s seen it after they’d tried it on her, where it made her feel like she was just going to be another fling, another story in their book. 

It hurt. 

It hurt for Apollo to flirt with her, to convince her to go out with them for a few hours of relaxation from work. It hurt for Apollo to flirt, to make her chest flutter, only for them to turn back around and act like it never happened. It hurt, it hurt to be so confused of her own emotions and to have them play with her like that. 

They didn’t mean to, that much Honey is sure of. They were forgetful and clearly trying to hide from something in their own mind. They maybe were using handsome and pretty Guardians around to leave those feelings behind. But were they honest with Honey? Was she something they considered special like they said, or was she just someone they wanted to fuck? 

Honey doesn’t realize she’d been staring until Apollo’s violet gaze turns to her and she sees them light right up, watching as they totally ignore the titan who was clearly into them as Apollo comes skipping towards her. “There you are, fire flower!!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What were you doin’ in your room for so long, huh? You have guests over?” 

It’s spoken with a smile, but even Honey can see the way Apollo asks that question. It’s insinuating something, something that makes Honey glance back over to that titan Apollo just abandoned just to wrap their arms around her arm and speak so excitedly. How Apollo would leave anyone just to come chat with Honey, to wrap around her and gleefully talk about their day. 

Were they lonely just like her? Did they feel the same but instead of hiding, they sought company of others out? Was...Was Honey just hopeful? 

“We need to talk.” Comes spilling from Honey’s lips in a breath before she can even ponder her worries any longer. Almost regretting it the second it passes her lips and Apollo seems to pause. They normally don’t pick up on serious hints, but maybe those words strike something in them, feeling the familiar fidgeting on her arm. 

But before Honey can swallow down her pride and retract on her statement, Apollo oh so cheerily agrees and starts walking with her towards her workshop. Once inside, it’s quiet for once as Apollo releases her to stand closeby, fidgeting with their cloak and a tic forcing them to do a quick jerk of their head in a little shake before they pipe up. “Have I done something wrong?” 

“No,” Honey answers quickly, a heavy sigh falling from her lips as she takes a few steps back to rest her lower back on one of her countertops. A hand runs through her curly white bangs, her fingers brushing her bandana tied around her head to hold her puff in place. Her honey golden gaze lifts to look at Apollo staring intently at her, and she feels her heart twist at their soft expression. “No, sugar, ya’ haven’t done a thing wrong.” 

Honey must look distressed, her eyebrows knitting and her hand resting on her forehead as her eyes close and she tries to focus on all this information she’s learned. How her feelings for Apollo weren’t just looking at them and thinking they were pretty, but the high sense of longing. That high sense of ‘I found you’ finally coursing through her veins. Did they feel the same? Was she just another thing to flirt with? 

Hands rest gingerly on her waist and make Honey hum soft in her throat in a way that makes her throat feel heavy when she swallows. Apollo was rather physical, always touching, and now it hurt even worse to feel them trying to comfort her without invading her space too much. “Honey...?” 

The way they murmur her name, their voice box wavering in a way she’d never heard. They were always so cheery, to hear them sound like that just because of her- 

A tightening of her already closed eyes forces the tears to spill down her round cheeks. Her throat is tight as the words ache to spill out but all she can manage is her full lips parting, only for them to quiver as she shuts them again. When was the last time she had cried? She couldn’t remember- Oswald always insisted it would make her feel better. One too many times of going ‘I’m fine’ and sucking it up. 

“I can’t do this, Apollo,” She finally breathes out, her hand falling from her forehead to wipe at her tears before her eyes open to look up at them. Their violet optics make her heart pound with how gently they look at her, confusion on their features as her fingers wrap lightly around their wrists where they hold her waist. “I can’t take not knowin’ if you’re playin’ with me. If ya think I’m just some fun toy o-or-” 

Honey’s voice quivers when their eyes meet, swallowing harshly as she tries to figure out her words correctly. Emotions always got the better of people, no longer allowing rational thought. She was no stranger to natural human emotion. “What is it ya want? Ya have everythin’ ya could ever desire, ya have playmates for days, ya have Calus under ya thumb.” 

Apollo’s head tilts in that cute little way they always do, furthering Honey’s distraught emotions. They look so confused looking over her face, their hands lightly squeezing her waist and one coming up to brush the new tears from her cheeks. “I want you, silly! Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” They just sound so honest, only furthering Honey’s frustration. 

“Ya say that an’ then go off an’ come back tellin’ me stories of how ya got friendly with someone else. I like you, Apollo, but I’m not some one-night stand o-or toy, I ain’t gonna be someone you just toss aside-” Fresh tears spill down Honey’s cheeks without her wanting them there, feeling ridiculous for crying about a person of all things. But all the information she found out- her feelings, that feeling of ‘I found you’, even now coursing through her in hot waves when they touch her. 

Apollo is quiet as their hand cups Honey’s cheek, stroking their thumb across it to wipe her tears, and Honey is helpless but to lean into their grasp. Her own hands shake as they hold weakly to their wrists, unsure whether to push them away or draw them closer as she gathers her breath and her thoughts. 

“I messed up didn’t I?” Comes so softly from Apollo that it seizes Honey’s heart. She goes to say something, to calm them, to ensure they don’t fall into another episode, but Apollo continues with something that makes Honey’s eyes shoot open and up to look at them. “I thought you knew.” 

“Knew...what?” 

“That you’re mine, silly,” Apollo says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. They cock their head again, a twitch in their shoulder when Honey looks at them with what must be a surprised look. “Uhm- I think like. We are- or, were, together at some point? I mean, I don’t think, I know, but I thought you felt the same and I thought you were trying to take it slow-” 

“What did you just say?” Honey breathes out, cutting them off as her eyes flicker back and forth between theirs, reaching up to cup their cheeks almost frantically as Apollo’s eyes light up in surprise. 

“You were taking it slow?” 

“No- no, no, we were together at some point- what do you mean by that?” 

“Oh! When I first saw you when we were with Daddy! I knew who you were! I don’t remember things very good,” They pause there to kind of giggle, as if their own memory troubles could be funny to themself. “But I remember you! Or, well, another version of you! I thought you just wanted to take it slow, but I kinda still wanted to, ya know, have sex! So I didn’t wanna pressure you and tada here we are!” 

Just like that, they’re back to chipper, only to pause again when they see Honey’s look on her face as if recognition crosses her features. Apollo seems to pout, not having the mouth to do so, but they still try. “Oh, boo! Did I make you upset again?” 

Honey chokes out a laugh through her tears, dropping her hands to their shoulder to press her forehead against their chest with this loud feeling of relief coursing through her. And confusion- recognition? Oh, she couldn’t understand her own emotions. ‘I found you’ rings in her head again, surrounded by glowing hot light in the form of a celestial outline of a sun. Her sun-  

Their sun. 

It’s like their light twirled together in a stream of intricate ribbons that drew them back to each other. And it all makes sense now- the news articles she had seen and read. She’d been married in her old life, to someone she only saw clippings off. Someone who was dressed in the most beautiful of outfits, intricate rings along their nose connecting to their ear, beautiful gauzy hoods, beautiful saris. The face always blurred out or almost burned out. 

Honey doesn’t realize she’s crying until Apollo’s arms finally slip around her waist to hug her tight. Something Honey did when Apollo became overwhelmed and incoherent. So many questions ring in her mind, but all leading back to the curiosity Apollo mentioned. 

They wanted intimacy with other people because she wanted to go slow- they wanted physical touch, that much Honey understood with how touchy they were. They were never good at wording things quite right, so even Honey understood they didn’t mean they were upset she wasn’t ‘putting out’ so to speak. They just wanted to be physical. Honey couldn’t help but feel the same way. 

When the hug is parted and things have settled down, Honey offers for them to sit down and talk about where they want to go from here. They both agree for a relationship, Apollo about near bouncing out of their seat until Honey sets her hand gently on theirs to soothe them. Honey gently mentions that she doesn’t mind Apollo seeing other people, but maybe when she’s a bit more comfortable with them so they can talk more about terms. 

It’s the first time Apollo is allowed to stay the night. With the sun carving on their upper chest fitting perfectly against Honey’s upper back sun tattoo when they press together with Honey wrapped in their arms. Finally able to get her first wink of restful sleep. 

Honey was just as damaged as Apollo was. 

But, together? 

They could become whole. 

[ardentmuse]

for your 2k maybe harry potter with #34? ♥️💖💕

Divine Interpretation 

Harry Potter - Harry Potter x Reader

34. Yep, shouldn’t have said that. Regretted it immediately.

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: talk of death, talk of sex, general teenage awkwardness

Masterlist

A/N: Ugh, I love Harry. My poor sweet baby boy. I hope you enjoy, love! Thanks for sending this through! 

Harry had lost your trail somewhere in the courtyard. A crowd of third years returning from Care of Magical Creatures blocked his path. He had only seen the top of your head start into the castle before you disappeared. And now he was thoroughly lost.

It had been quite the sprint after class was dismissed to find you at all. You ran out of the Divinations classroom before Trelawney had even begun to assign the homework. You had been sitting across from Lavender, reciting to each other from your dream notebooks and taking turns interpreting their contents. All Harry noticed from where he and Ron sat as Lavender snatch your notebook, lean in close and whisper something and before she could even finish, you slammed in your stool and ran out the door.

And so now Harry stood outside the one place he really didn’t want to look for you, but he hoped if your friendship with Hermione meant anything, it was that you both might enjoy the same places to hide from prying eyes.

“Y/N?” Harry whispered as he slipped into the second floor girl’s bathroom. The stone sinks bore the destruction of three years earlier and Harry swallowed hard at the memory of those events. This school, this place that was home and happiness in so many ways, also never failed to remind him of all the pain, too.

A whoosh of cold overtook Harry’s body as he slowly stepped into the corridor of stalls.

“Harry Potter is looking for someone?” Myrtle asked as she stopped in front of the boy, batting her eyelashes in a way that was much more creepy than it was seductive.

“Uh, yes. Hi, Myrtle. I was wondering if you had seen someone come in here. About this tall and –“

“You didn’t come here to see me?” Myrtle asked. The waterworks were already starting and Harry was quickly remembering why he didn’t want to look for you in here in the first place.

Myrtle threw herself back into her stall, her titular moaning growing in strength by the second.

“No, no. Of course, I’m here to see you. But I’m also looking for Y/N so if you could help me—“

“Do you like Y/N?” Myrtle asked, her cries turning to sniffles as she watched Harry closely.

Harry was finding it hard to figure out what exactly Myrtle wanted, but Harry needed answers. You had never been the type to storm off before, always poised and patient and just a little bit too willing to accommodate others. You were a constant. In a school that looked at him with a mix of awe, wonder, and outright fear, you looked at him with kindness. And to see you hurting, it was honestly a little too much for him. Harry knew a thing or two about hurt, especially now after Cedric. You had sat with him in the courtyard while he recalled his nightmares of seeing his lifeless body on the ground, the searing pain coursing through his body and the hands of Pettigrew, the guilt and anger and doubt that accompanied so few people believing him. You were there, you were kind, and you always knew what to say. Or maybe you didn’t and Harry just liked hearing anything from your mouth as you ran your fingers through his hair and smiled at him. If he could offer you even the tiniest bit of comfort the way you had him, he was going to do it.  

“Um, yeah, I like Y/N. A lot. That’s why I need to find—“

“YOU DON’T LIKE ME!” Myrtle screamed, the nose deafening and sending alarm bells firing off in Harry’s head. “Nobody likes Myrtle. Stupid Myrtle. Silly Myrtle. Ugly Myrtle.”

“Of course, I like you, Myrtle. We’re friends, remember?”

“But Harry Potter is dating –“

“We’re not dating. I mean, I’d like to be but—“

At that, Myrtle completely lost it. She dove into her toilet and her cries resonated through the pipes in a way that Harry thought could be heard for several floors above and below. Harry moved forward to try and comfort the ghost, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him out of the bathroom.

When Harry got his bearings, the screams a little diluted now out in the hall, Harry turned to see your face holding back a tiny smile.

“That was a silly thing to do, you know.”

“Yep, shouldn’t have said that. Regretted it immediately,” Harry confirmed with a nervous chuckle. You were standing just a little too close and your eyes were scanning his face slowly. And Harry was only now realizing that you might have heard the thing that set Myrtle off, a nervous confession of his heart at a flustered and infuriating ghost.

“It may have been unwise but I’m glad you said it.”

Harry’s gaze flicked up to meet yours. You were smiling full now and inching just the tiniest bit closer to him. He really was a goner if the soft curl of your lips and the scent of your robes were clouding his head already.

“Re-really?” he whispered, his eyes unable to pull themselves away from your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, “It’s good for Myrtle to know where she stands. I wouldn’t want any extra competition.”

Harry’s mind was having difficulty processing everything. Maybe Myrtle’s screams had rendered him stupid, but he was getting the impression that you felt the same way he did. But that couldn’t be right. Who would willingly sign up for the lump of baggage and confusion that he was, especially someone was breathtaking and clever as you?

When Harry didn’t respond, you pulled away and turned your head down.

“Now I’m the one who regrets saying something,” you said to yourself before meeting Harry’s gaze once more. “Just forget it and –“

Harry’s brain short-circuited at your confusion and all he could do was kiss you.

Those lips.

Those lips had been taunting him for months, and for the entirety of this conversion. Those stupid, beautiful, kind, kissable lips. And god, were they just as sweet and supple as he had dreamed – though he’d left those details out of the diaries for Divinations. No, those dreams were his alone.

When Harry pulled away, the taste of you upon him lifted a bit of the fog of his mind. This was real, you were here, and you weren’t running away.

Your fingers came up to caress your lips and Harry watched, enamored.

“Just how I dreamt it,” you said.

And Harry laughed, not at you dreaming of a kiss – he did that every night with you when he could push the dark thoughts away long enough to enjoy himself – but because he now understood exactly what sent you running out of the Divinations classroom. Lavender was the worst place to get advice on such things.

“You could just leave those parts out of your dream notebooks,” Harry said, catching your chin under his fingers, hoping you’ll look at him again. “That’s what I do.”

“You have a lot of these dreams?” you asked.

“Too many.”

“Maybe we can get it out of our systems together during the day? That way we don’t have to lie in our diaries?” You were biting your lip now and Harry found himself overjoyed by the sight of you just as vulnerable and awkward as he was.

“I doubt I’ll ever be able to get you out of my system. I’ll probably just end up having more detailed dreams about you and fail Divinations for submitting erotica as homework.”

You spit out your laugh as Harry’s face turned cold.

“Shouldn’t have said that either,” Harry whispered to himself with a shake of the head but your hand found his wrist tucked into his robes and soon your fingers were intertwined.

“Do you regret it?” you asked as you pulled Harry down the hall. To where, he wasn’t sure.

“If it makes you laugh and has you holding my hand, then I don’t think so.”

You turned over your shoulder and smiled at him. And as your eyes scanned around the corridor, Harry was unsure what you had planned. But soon he found himself lightly pushed into a supply closet, the door shut behind him. A broom hit the floor as your body became flush with his own, the darkness only adding to the details of your touch that he was determine to memorize. Myrtle’s cries were but a soft whisper in the walls now.

As you lips gently found his own once more, he held softly to your hips. And Harry knew for sure he’d have quite a few more things to leave out of his dream journal tomorrow. Maybe he’d make up something about death. Trelawney always liked that.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt,  @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts

Harry Potter tags: @tessimagines, @0-lost-in-stereo-0, @whysoseriouspadfoot, @eldritchscreech, @luckyvirgo, @hellizhelusive2, @lexrius, @sapphireorchid