#i sat on the 'i wouldn't have done it if the tables were turned' choice for so long&then went with 'i think forgiveness is always an option

[eccedentesian]

what’s your underlying motif?

the orange. whether it’s your warm embrace, your unwavering reliability, your smile that says “welcome back”, your motif is the home. your the equivalent to coming out of the rain to the fire on and your slippers waiting by the door. your uncanny way of making people feel alright, you’re treasured in these trying times. i respectfully request you take care of yourself, the world will never been as kind to you as you are to it. anne lammott said “lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining” and though unconventional, lighthouses are inhabited and your cup runs over with generosity. because you probably don’t hear it enough, thank you.

tagged by: @redeulogy thanks this hurt a lot tagging: @firemourn @saintsdawn @viilein @longerhuman && you !

[wholoveseggs]

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

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[alexa-fika]

Claws Down (Thatch x f!cat!reader)

Pt 1

AN Omg guys back to back posts? It had been a hot minuteee since I managed that! Idk what came over me I just came across Claws out and I was like man I have the perfect thing for this plus someone expressed they were interested in so ha perfect! Two birds one stone

Here Reader is replaced by dokucha which stands for reader in japanese

Dividers by @/drinkthesky and @/firefly-graphics

"Come on, Kitty, Don' look at me like that." Thatch laughed as he continued to chop the carrot in front of him.

"Why am I here." she sneered, pulling at her hands, the restraints clinking against the table as she did

"Why, it's my Kitty Watch."

"I don't need to be watched over like some toddler, and Don't call me that," she snapped back.

"Oh, come on, don't get your feathers ruffled. Besides, you really gave us no choice. We can't have an aggressive stowaway runnin’ around the ship as we sail, much less you, who seem to love tryin’ to claw at people."

"I don't even have my nails out; you guys made sure of that," she growled, gesturing at the sea-stone bracelet that hung on her wrist.

"Ya sent a crewmate to the med bay cause you clawed at him even with that on," he reminded her, snickering as she continued to glare at him.

Why so mad, Kitty?" he teased, sliding his chopped vegetables into a pot as he stirred it.

"I told you to stop calling me that, and you tell me why would I be mad about being stuck with a bunch of sweaty pirates cuffed to the damn counter?"

"Gee," he said as he scooped some of the soup into a bowl and put it in front of her.

"Here I am making your food, and you're just being mean to me, and besides, Marco warned ya that if ya hurt someone, the cuffs go back on; it's not on me," he pouts.

She rolled her eyes and sent him a mocking smile as she put her restraints up and jiggled them.

"You goin’ to be nice?" he asked as he made his way around the counter, taking a key from his pocket.

"Just get them out."

He shook his head but did as she asked, pulling the restraints off her with a slight 'clink.'

"Finally," she huffed, turning back to the plate in front of her, grabbing the spoon provided, and beginning to eat slowly.

"See, I knew you would come aroun’, Kitty!" he said, sitting on the stool beside her.

She simply glanced at him, taking him in, analyzing him as her hold on the utensil tightened.

"Kitty..." He warned

She looked up at him with a slight glare and lunged at him, smashing the spoon against his hand.

He let out a hiss at the action but quickly extended his other hand to catch the fleeing girl and dodging her attempt at clawing his face off.

"Now wait a cotton pickin’ minute, Little Lady, I thought we were making progress," he said, pulling her back first into his chest as he held both of her wrists in a hugging fashion as she attempted to dig her nails into him, much like their first encounter.

"Like hell we are," she cried struggling against his hold, quickly realizing she was no match for him in strength, so she changed her tactic, digging her heel into his.

"Whoa there," he called as he avoided her stomping attempts ad he quickly wrapped one of his legs against hers, trapping them against the stool he sat on.

"You insufferable fucking hair for brains," she wailed as she tried to buck him off as he struggled to keep her restrained against him.

This continued for a while until she eventually tired herself out, and only the sound of their heavy breathing echoed in the kitchen.

"Ya done with the hissy fit?" he muttered.

"Let me go."

"Please, just don't try to run away again."

"Or what, you will cuff me again?" she glumly replied.

"Again, Kitty, we don't want to; in fact, we wouldn't mind havin’ a stowaway walkin’ around; we've had a few, and they are free to roam around. The reason you have restraints is because you keep hurtin’ my brothers; you will hurt yourself, too, eventually," he explains, looking down at her.

"If you can promise to stop hurtin’ them and doing reckless stuff, ya’ are free to roam aroun’," he finishes.

"If that is the problem, why did you stop me from leaving the first day you saw me?"

"Because ya were going to steal our boat!" he exclaimed baffled.

"Oh please, you guys can handle missing one junior boat" she called, rolling her eyes.

"It aint about that; it's about the principle!" he cries.

"You're pirates!"

"Listen, just promise ya won't hurt anyone or steal from us and ya are free to go." He pleads

"Fine," she hollered, stumbling her way up as he suddenly released her. She turned back to glare at the man, who stared back at her with an innocent look on his face.

"For now," she added, much to his disappointment.

"I'm sorry, kitty, but if ya hurt someone, the cuffs are coming back on," he warned, shaking said restraints in the air

“So mind your P’s and Q’s darlin”

"And the sea stone?" she questions

"Sorry, that stays kitty. Like I said, you have already sent a couple of my brothers to the clinic with scratches without the seastone, so we can't risk letting your Claws out."

She let out a grumble but left it at that, glancing at the counter.

Thatch notices her stare, and he grins as he realizes what she had set her sights on

"So ya did like the soup!" he grinned.

"Shut up, don't let it get to your head. I just haven't had a decent meal in a while," she snapped as she climbed back to the stool and resumed eating.

"Don't worry about tha’." he smiles, leaning against his hand and watching her gulp the soup down.

"We will keep you well fed here, even if only until our next stop; you will not go hungry."

She paused her eating to look at him, mouth agape, only to shake it moments later and continue her previous task.

"Thank you."

"Na problem, Kitty."

"Stop calling me that."

"Awe come on!"

What we thinking? When I was writing this it gave me the idea that maybe I could do a chapter for each member, thoughts?

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@acpola01

[bldhrry]

A Court of Passion and Daydreams

Chapter Seven | How Did It End? Azriel x OC!Reader Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Series Masterlist | General Masterlist

word count: 5.7k

warnings: cursing, sexual innuendo, perpetual sadness, suicidal ideation

author's note: sorry this took me longer to do; work was super stressful last night and i immediately went to bed. feedback is appreciated! / theme of the chapter inspired by "How Did It End..?" by @jswizzlewrites

Azriel had been waiting for her at the restaurant, his broad back facing her.  She practically skipped in and touched the back of his head, planting a kiss on his cheek.  

“Hi handsome.”  She whispered.

A deep chuckle rumbled his chest and he lifted his head, grazing his lips along her jawline.  “You’re late.”

“I took a nap.”  She said sheepishly.  He started to roll his eyes but she grabbed his shoulder.  “But,” she beamed, “I got you something.”  She placed a gift bag on the table and sat down across from him.

He gave her a skeptical look and took the bag in his hands; his shadows saw the gift first and started to swirl around him in excitement.  It was a silver chain.

“I know it's not much, but I saw you looking at it the other day, and I don't know I just thought-”

He cut her off.  “I love it.”  He blushed and bit his lip.  “Thank you.”

She shrieked and clapped her hands.  “Okay good.  I was worried you wouldn't.  I know you're not materialistic, but I just thought it’d look nice on you.”  Her face flushed.  In all honesty she had spent the past week imagining the chain over her face as he buried himself in her and grabbing it to pull him to her and connect their mouths.

She brushed the thought away and watched as he put the necklace on, adjusting it around his neck.  Gently touching it, he smiled and said thank you again, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

They ate dinner and went home together, swinging their arms as they walked.

“Celestia?  Celestia!”  She blinked and saw Nesta kneeling in front of her.  She was gripping her shoulders and her eyes were wide with worry.  “What happened?”  Her eyes searched Celestia’s for any sign of life.

Celestia focused her eyes on Nesta, exhaling.  She looked around slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of her apartment.  She hadn’t noticed the sun had set.  She looked back at Nesta and furrowed her brows.  “I don’t really know,” she murmured.

Her voice was completely broken and distant, like she was not actually present.  Nesta could tell she hadn’t really processed what happened.  She put her hand on Celestia’s cheek and sighed, grabbing her hands and squeezing them.  Her face was dry and cracking from the tears and her eyes were bloodshot.

Nesta and Cassian had just returned to the House when Azriel flew in.  His shadows seemed to have doubled in size and they laid stagnant around him resembling a blanket.  He moved through the House, towards his room, slowly not meeting Cassian or Nesta in the eye when they greeted him.  They both could see the tears on his face and they exchanged a look: something had happened.   Before they could question him, Azriel slammed the door of his room and they began to hear thuds and crashes as he destroyed it.  

He was angry with himself for what he had done, but he had no choice.  Lovers or not, she deserved more and he was just not that.  His chest hurt so bad he felt like he would faint and his heart hurt so bad he feared it would stop entirely.  He could barely feel the tether in his gut, its glow was barely existent as the time apart from her grew longer.  He felt like something in him had been physically removed and he clutched his chest, taking deep and unsteady breaths.

Cassian didn’t bother to knock on the door as he let himself in, stumbling back at the sight before him.  Azriel’s furniture was strewn across the room, all of it broken.  “What the fuck?”  Cassian breathed and Nesta peered behind him, gasping quietly.

Azriel had his back to the pair and he turned around slowly, still clutching his chest.  His eyes were wild and the hazel that decorated them could barely be seen for his pupils were blown; he looked crazy.  Cassian repeated himself asking what happened but Azriel couldn’t hear him through the roaring in his ears.  His body was failing him, his soul was leaving him, but he could do nothing but stand there with his fists balled up at his sides.  Slowly, he raised his eyes and locked eyes with Cassian, his shadows had nearly engulfed his form and Cassian took a small step back.

“What did you do?”  He gasped.

Celestia hadn’t spoken a word to anyone in three days.  The Inner Court took turns visiting her in the apartment; they would sit with her on the couch and talk about their day or their plans or the latest gossip they had heard.  She never responded or took her eyes off her bedroom door.  She studied the way the grain of the wood moved around the door; her eyes traced the lines up and down and side to side, never once hearing a word that was said to her.  She felt bad she couldn’t engage, but something had been taken from her and she wasn’t sure how to move forward.  She was missing something integral to her being that made it so she couldn’t function; she couldn’t breathe or think or eat or sleep and it was wearing her down.  

The day he left, she had thrown up immediately after.  She laid on the bathroom floor screaming and crying, hugging her knees to her chest.  If she didn’t know any better she would’ve thought someone had ripped her heart out with their bare hands.  She knew who: he had.

“Rhysand and I are trying for a babe.”  Feyre said.  “We haven’t told anyone; you’re the first to know.”  

Celestia’s pointed ear turned towards her and her head soon followed.  She gave Feyre a soft smile and glanced between her stomach and her face.  “I’m happy for you Feyre.”  She was being genuine. 

Feyre beamed at her and Celestia envied her happiness.  She was able to go home to a male that was genuine in his affections for her, not someone who hadn’t truly cared.  She balled her fists at the thought, her arms shaking slightly.  Had any of it been true?  She was angry; she had wasted three years of her life that she could’ve spent doing literally anything else.  None of it made sense to her; they spent an appropriate time together, they had sex regularly, they had deep conversations, and they displayed their affections.  What was missing?  What signs had she missed?

Feyre noticed her agitation and reached her hand out to touch her arm.  “I’m so sorry.”  She was.  Imagining Rhysand being taken from her made her entire body shudder and she would start crying uncontrollably.  She knew heartbreak and heartache and she empathized with Celestia’s sorrow.  The rest of the group were trying to push her to do things to occupy her time and avoid what was inevitable: her coming home, alone, and falling to pieces.  Feyre insisted she just needed to be alone and to be with company that would keep their distance.  Feyre wiped a tear from her face and sniffed; oh how she wished she could do something for her.

Nobody saw Azriel for the next few days, but Cassian and Nesta heard him as he continued to trash his room.  The noise of things being thrown and breaking masked the noise of Azriel’s sobs and screams.  He was miserable and felt like his spirit was fighting to leave his body.  He struggled against it, grasping onto the memories of her.  Every time he thought of her and her smile and laugh his gut would hum and he felt at peace.  But then he remembered what he had done, and it would go away and his violent crusade would resume.

Despite it all, he didn’t forget his duties to his Court.  The day of his weekly meeting with Cassian and Rhysand, he got ready, going through the clothes that were thrown about his room.  

Cassian was surprised to see him at breakfast.  He hadn’t eaten any of it, just pushing the food around on his plate.  Cassian greeted him but Azriel said nothing.  He had tried speaking to him for the past three days; he would knock on his door, a plate of food in his hand and beg him to open the door.  He would pleadingly remind him that he needed to eat and he should talk about whatever happened between him and Celestia.  

“I’m sure you guys can work it out,” he kept repeating every time he would knock at his door.  This made Azriel even more angry and his only response was to break something else.

They flew in silence to Rhysand’s Manor.  Azriel wasn’t even worried about what lay ahead; he hoped Rhysand would kill him.  When they entered the office, Rhysand had his chin on his hand, staring into space.  He looked up from his trance and he narrowed his eyes at Azriel and scowled.

“What the fuck happened?”  He growled.  

Nesta had been the first to go to Celestia’s apartment and find her in a catatonic state.  She had figured out the separation from the look on Azriel’s face and demanded for Cassian to take her to Celestia’s.  Finding her on the table, Nesta had tried to rouse her, shaking and rubbing her face, but Celestia made no move to react and despite being moved she never took her eyes off from the window and the view that laid ahead.  Nesta left Celestia after an hour, seeking help from Feyre.  Rhysand had been out of the house and Feyre went alone.  She fought back a sob when she looked at Celestia; her face was gray and her eyes were lifeless.  Rhysand simply shook his head when she told him the news.

Azriel’s eyes were tired and emotionless as he met Rhysand’s stare.  Absent mindlessly, he shook his head.  He couldn’t bear to say it because if he did then it would make it more true.  It would cement what he had done.  Slowly, he moved to his seat and took his time to sit down.  Cassian did the same, eyeing him and Rhysand all the same.

They all sat in silence for what seemed like hours.  Cassian glanced between Rhysand and Azriel, Azriel stared at the floor, and Rhysand glowered at Azriel.

Azriel broke the silence by clearing his throat and shifting in his seat.  He bit his lip, willing the tears to go away.  He took a breath and let it go.  “She’s my mate.”

Even though it was just Cassian and Rhysand in the room, an audible hush spread throughout the room.  The two couldn't help but gape at Azriel whose eyes remained on the legs of the desk and his face was blank.

Rhysand kept opening and closing his mouth to speak, struggling to find the words.  Cassian didn't even try to speak, he just kept staring at Azriel with wide eyes.

“She’s…” Rhysand started and then flexed his jaw, cracking it.  “You’re mates?”

“Yes.”

“And you left her?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”  Rhysand was losing his patience.  Not only did he know that his sister had been in absolute shambles for the past three days, but Azriel was not being cooperative in sharing information, and he was still considering the promise he had made to Azriel three years ago.

Azriel clicked his tongue and pulled himself up, straightening in the seat.  He looked at the males, his brothers, and let out a quiet sigh.  

“I think it's a mistake,” he said softly.  “I don't think we should be mates; I don't deserve her or deserve to be her mate.”  His voice stayed quiet during his confession; it almost sounded like he was talking to himself.

The words hung in the air and Rhysand couldn't help but feel sympathy for his brother.  He knew exactly what he meant.  Every day he felt and knew in his bones he didn't deserve Feyre; she was too good for him and this world, but yet she chose him again and again and again.  Nothing could come between them and everything they had been through reflected that.  The only gripe Rhysand had with Azriel’s statement was the fact that he had left Celestia.  Rhysand couldn't even fathom leaving Feyre; the thought seemed incomprehensible for him to even consider.  The day Feyre died, Rhysand had felt it in him and he had fallen to his knees and couldn't find the strength to breathe; he could feel her slipping away and the pain was as real as someone punching him.

“If you're mates, then how did you…”  Cassian’s sentence trailed off and he gave Azriel a puzzled look.  Cassian, like Rhysand, knew what Azriel was saying and maybe even sympathized more.  Cassian was a brute and uncoordinated and crass and Nesta was, albeit a bitch at times, poised and calculating and incredibly intelligent.  Never in his life could he imagine his mate to be someone worthy of a crown.  But, like Rhysand, he had never considered leaving her.  In fact, when she had disappeared into the Cauldron he became physically ill and thought he was dying, his entire body twitching and jerking like he was the one being Made.

Azriel knew what Cassian was asking: how did he leave her?  How did he break her heart and still remain sane?  How was he even managing being away from her for so long?

“I don't know.  Everything hurts and I am so angry, but I know this is the right thing to do.”  Azriel’s chest heaved and he gripped the arms of the chair, the wood creaking under his hands.  “You've seen what I’ve done.  You've seen me brutalize people and kill them without asking any questions.  She's too good for me.”  He could feel his entire falling world apart as he spoke, his crimes becoming too real for him to handle.  “I love her, I’m in love with her you have to believe me,” he pleaded with Rhysand, extending a hand, “I’m doing this because I love her.” 

After a few moments of silence Rhysand spoke.  “Does she know?”

“I don't think so,” Azriel sniffed.  “I don't know if it ever clicked for her.  I don't even know if she feels the same.”  He choked out a sob.

“She hasn't said a word to anyone in three days, Azriel.  I think she fucking does.”  Rhysand fought the urge to smack him; he was being ridiculous.  An Illyrian baby as Feyre would say.

Azriel shook his head in disagreement.  She was probably just upset like anyone else would be in this situation.  Had she felt the same, wouldn't the bond snapped by now?

“How long have you known?”  Rhysand looked at Azriel, his gaze contemplative.  As angry as he was about what Azriel had done, he found it difficult to be entirely angry with him.  Azriel had always had self doubts and insecurities and it was only a matter of time before they showed themselves, but he just didn't picture it happening in this way.

“A couple of months.”  Azriel revealed and the males in front and beside him looked at each.  

So Azriel told them as vaguely as he could about the time during sex when he felt the tug that he was so familiar with become real and sneak its way to her.  

“Probably your orgasm,” Cassian pointed out.

Rhysand rolled his eyes and groaned, drawing out his name.  “Cassian.  Please.”

Cassian just shrugged and Azriel continued.

“I always have this strange feeling when I'm around her like we're tied together and if she is too far, it grows tighter and I have to go to her.”  

Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a knowing glance.  

“Before it never went anywhere, it just seemed to move throughout my body, but that night I felt it come out and go to her like it was a physical rope.  And then at the dinner with Lucien when I sat next to her the entire room sounded like it was buzzing and the only thing I could hear, feel, and see was her.  She asked me to sit with her and I wasn't the one that got up by myself, like something made me do it.  And that's when I knew.  Everything seemed to fall into place all at the same time and like I was seeing everything for the first time.”  Azriel let out a sigh as his eyes moved about the room remembering the night.  

It felt yesterday when he was sitting next to her with his arms draped across her shoulders and her head on his chest.  It felt like yesterday he was watching her as she was leaning over the railing and looking into the Sidra, watching the fish swim.  It was only the other day when he looked her in the eyes and told her that he didn't want a relationship with her anymore and that it was time for them to move on and find other people.

“She always looks beautiful, but that night she looked even more so.  Her body looked like it was glowing and her smile made my chest,” Azriel pointed to himself, “hum like it was singing a song.  She was like something I made up in a daydream.  I can't explain it but I just knew she was my mate.”  He cried as he spoke, ringing his hands together.  His horrible hands; he hated himself for touching her with them.

“Don't tell her,” he whispered, looking up with glassy eyes.  “I don't want her to know; especially if it hasn't happened to her yet.  I don't want to force her to be with me when I know she hates me.”  The thought of her ever looking at him without love made him feel sick.

Cassian agreed.  He knew this was business between his brother and now his mate.  Plus, what good would he be doing in meddling in their affairs?  He didn't see any positives that would come from forcing her to be his mate.

Rhysand took his time to think.  His sister needed to know the truth and he was sure she would forgive him if she understood the entire situation.  But he was worried what would happen if she was told; she could either accept and forgive and all would be well, she could accept but never forgive or love him the same which could kill them, or she could reject him effectively signing a death sentence for them both.  His sister had a mean temper and a tendency to hold onto a grudge and he wouldn't put it past her to enact that on her mate.

“I don't think it's fair for you to decide what's best for her.”  Rhysand finally spoke after minutes of silence.  “I know how you feel because I feel that way about Feyre even after all this time together, but what you may think is best for her may not be what is actually best for her.  What if you are what she wants?”

Azriel shook his head.  “No.  I know this is the right thing to do even if it hurts and I feel like I’m going to die.  She deserves to be with someone who can give her more than me.  I am too damaged and too ruined.  No,” he repeated, “it can't be.”

Rhysand sighed and gave Azriel a sad look.  Nothing he was going to say would change his mind. 

It had been a week and Celestia was finally eating without being prompted.  The Inner Court still took turns visiting her, but soon the amount of visits dwindled until it was just Rhysand bringing breakfast and the Archeron sisters taking her out for lunch.

Mor left for Vallahan, giving her a kiss on the cheek and promising to be back soon.  Cassian found it difficult to be there knowing the truth, so he occupied himself with training Nesta, Emorie, and the Priestesses.  Amren visited periodically, but found herself too angry with Azriel to give Celestia the peace she needed. 

Rhysand kept his promise to Azriel and he and Cassian made it a point to not tell either of their mates.  

The sisters had taken Celestia for coffee and a sandwich, now strolling through the town square window shopping.  Celestia walked ahead of the group, peering at the displays every now and then.  The sisters walked with their arms entangled with each other's, a few feet behind her.

“How do you think it ended?”  Elain asked.  She always liked Celestia and felt sorry she was so sad.  She missed their baking sessions and piano lessons.

“I don't know but I hope that fucking bastard dies.”  Nesta snapped.  Celestia was the only one to look past Nesta’s many transgressions after she was Made and pushed for a genuine friendship.

“Nesta don't say things like that.”  Feyre chastised her sister.  Feyre knew this wouldn't last; she had seen the pair together too many times to know that this was their real ending.  Azriel adored Celestia and despite his stoic appearance, he softened in her presence and her presence only.  She knew that Azriel didn't think highly of himself and she figured it played a part in the demise of their relationship.  She just hoped he would accept that Celestia was willing to take him for all that he was.

She looked lost as she walked aimlessly around the shops.  She had no end goal in mind, no point in which she would stop and decide she's had enough and she needed to go home.  She would walk the entirety of Velaris if it meant not going back to her apartment.  It reeked of Azriel and he had accidentally left some of his things.  She couldn't bear to be inside; it made her skin crawl and every time she breathed she felt nauseous.  The tether in her stomach would rouse when she would pad around her home, pulling her in the direction of his scent or to the table where his notebook was laying or towards the front door where his shoes still sat.  She hated it but she didn't have the energy to do anything about it and she was scared too.  She was scared that if she cleaned him away from her mind and body and home that he would disappear altogether and she wouldn't remember the past three years.  She would forget the way that he looked at his reports, scribbling notes here and there; or forget the way he would sneak into her bed after she'd already fallen asleep and hold her like he would never let her go; or forget the way he looked at her with pride when she fought in the ring.  

Lost in thought she stumbled on a loose rock and caught herself on the railing of an outdoor dining area.  She stood there, catching her breath and silently cried.  She remembered it all and she feared she would never forget it.

Once Feyre’s pregnancy was announced, Celestia moved into the Manor.  Rhysand had become overcome with obsession of keeping Feyre and the babe safe, banishing almost everyone from the house.  Everyone except Celestia who was the only one trusted enough to be with Feyre with and without the shield.  They spent their days lounging around the house, reading and responding to inquiries and congratulations.  She accompanied Feyre to her paint classes, the only outdoor event Rhysand allowed.  She never painted, but watched the class.  She loved art but the only mode of it she was remotely good at was playing the piano.  She enjoyed the classes though; the way the children’s faces would light up as their imaginations came to life and the way Feyre seemed to beam with confidence as she overcame her trauma with each brushstroke.

The further along the pregnancy went, the less public outings they had.  Feyre was becoming too tired to even walk more than 10 feet and the risk of an early birth due to the babe’s wings was too great to even risk it.  So, the pair would sit in the living room talking, crying, gossiping, reading, or playing the piano.  Feyre was a great friend in Celestia’s grief; she let her cry and wail and moan about the loss of Azriel.  She told the same sob story over and over; how he left, how she didn’t understand why, how she couldn’t understand how he seemed so aloof, and how it physically pained her to be away from him.  Feyre listened to it all, holding and rubbing her back until she stopped and asked to switch topics, apologizing for her dramatics.

If Feyre was too fatigued to talk, she would ask Celestia to play the piano for her.  She had learned it as a child, her father pushing her to "learn at least one lady-like thing," he had said when he visited the camp and saw her sparring with Rhysand.  He wasn’t opposed to the lifestyle and even wanted her to be close to her Illyrian side for her mother would’ve wanted it, but he knew she would never be truly accepted and figured she should occupy her time with something else when the rejection of being a warrior inevitably came.

The melodies she played were dark and haunting, but beautiful all the same.  Forfeiting the sheet music she had learned over the years, she toyed with the keys and made her own music.  Listening to the dying hum in her gut she translated it to match the language of the keys, alternating between sharps and minors.  Later she would back the melody up with words that made Feyre have to continuously wipe tears from her eyes.  Her pain and longing and yearning for her lost, beloved ghost echoed the walls of the Manor and all in the house would stop and listen, pitying the female but always waiting for more.  The more she sang, the more they understood.

Despite her outward appearance of talkativeness and smiles, Rhysand still heard her weep in her room when everyone had gone to bed and pace the long, empty halls.  She struggled to keep food and drink down and when nobody looked, her eyes would become hazy as she recalled whatever memory haunted her that day.

Feyre had been taking a nap, when Rhysand walked into the sun room, finding Celestia wrapped in a blanket, staring out the window.  He walked up to her and squeezed her shoulder in silent greeting and kissed the top of her head.  She didn’t move, her gaze still transfixed on the ocean waves that were crashing onto the beach.  He silently took a seat beside her; she would talk when she was ready.

“I think I am going to die Rhysand.”  Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he could still hear the agony.

“Why do you say that?”  He looked at the beach too.

“My spirit is dying and my soul is begging to be released.  I can’t fight it anymore.”

Now, he turned to look at her.  She had been at the house for 6 months now, Azriel had left her 8 months ago, and yet her cheeks had not gained their previous fullness and the bags under her eyes were dark and hollow.  She had become slender overall, and her usual tan and radiant skin was gray and tight around her bones.

“Why does it hurt so much?”  She looked over at him, tears silently falling down her face.

He searched for an answer and even pondered telling her the truth, but instead he reached over and grabbed her hand, stroking his thumb over the top of it.  

He sighed, “because you loved him.”

She cried out.

Azriel had not been faring any better.  He had returned to his dark and brooding nature, barely speaking a word to anyone and when he did he kept his answers short.  He watched and listened from the outside, observing everything but never letting anyone know.  He was angry and sad and desperate for an escape of the anguish he felt coursing through his bones.  The only answer was going back to her but he would be doing it for himself, and not for her for being with her would ruin her and he needed to preserve her.

He still attended training, silently instructing the females on what to do and what to not do.  She came too, never missing a session.  Usually they would work together and train the Priestesses, but now she had moved to work with Cassian, Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn.  He hated being so far away from her.

The female trainees all knew what had happened; they could see it written in the air as they avoided glances and getting too close to one another.  The energy was somber and wet with suffering.

“Did you hear?”  Gwyn practically squealed.  Nesta and Emorie looked at the red head.  “They called it off; they’re not together anymore.”

Emorie looked at Celestia and Azriel.  The former was gathering swords and daggers for the next section of the training and the latter was still with the other Priestesses, reviewing the proper foot stances to have during combat,

“So?”  Emorie didn’t understand what the other female was getting at.

“So,” Gwyn dragged out, “he’s single.  You know I’ve liked him for a while now, but they were together and now they’re not.”  She said matter of factly.

Nesta narrowed her eyes at her friend and sneered.  Triumphing over the failure of a relationship was not admirable and said as much, making Gwyn’s face flush with embarrassment.  Despite the floundering with Nesta, Gwyn was not undeterred from her new found mission to court Azriel.

Celestia had seen Gwyn’s interest in Azriel grow from the day the news broke.  She wasn’t stupid and knew the incessant questions and excuses to be near him, touch him, or have him touch her were not because she actually needed to know or be shown something.  Since the day he left, she had no energy to damper her power, so it flowed freely behind her, vibrating with strength and shaking the ground she walked on.  It was an excuse to hide herself from him, not that she thought he would be looking anyway.  But as she watched him hold her waist while Gwyn successfully acted like she couldn’t straighten her back and point her feet the right way, her shadows became darker and thicker and thunder boomed across the ring despite the clear skies.  She didn’t look up, she just kept organizing the weapons station, then the supplies station, and then the drinking station, her power growing more and more agitated.  Her heart was pounding in her chest and she felt like she couldn’t breathe as she kept watching the scene before her unfold: him holding her waist, her moving in front of him trying to position herself in a fighting stance, and when they were done she grabbed his hand and bowed in thanks.

“You seem to be getting a bit hot headed there Princess.”  Cassian remarked, filling the pitcher with water.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She snapped and another roll of thunder could be heard across the ring.

Cassian just snorted and shook his head.

Everyone was watching her but she didn’t care.  Let them learn who she was and what she was capable of: the half High Fae, half Illyrian princess of the Night Court; the first female to enter and win the Blood Rite; the Killer of Sons.

“This is not a good idea,” Celestia muttered while watching Cassian arrange the obstacles around the ring.  Azriel hadn't been there for training and she was glad for it.  Every time she thought she was starting to feel better, with one look at him or a whiff of his scent she would spiral like it was the day he left her all over again.  She was trying to find purpose without him but her spirit had died and she couldn't find anything to keep her motivated.  The only thing that helped was the routine of the training sessions.

“I just want to show Devlon and the rest of those bastards that they're wrong about females not being and to train and fight,” he grunted as he moved a rubber mat.

“He's going to make you regret it.”  She was standing with her arms crossed casually moving in between the obstacles, observing them. The one he was setting up was the same one she did that qualified her for the Blood Rite. 

"You do this and he'll think they can do the Blood Rite, which you know they can't.  And if they get called in there's nothing any of us can do about it.”

He said nothing as he laid out a rope ladder.  “Doubt it.  They're terrified of Nesta and then there's the rest of us,” he gestured around.

She rolled her eyes.  “If I can do it then they will think they can.”  She pressed and Cassian waved her off.  Idiot.

Azriel landed moments later, but Celestia had felt him before she had seen him.  The air became thick with static and she felt the hair on her arms rise.  Her gut hummed and glowed slightly and she found herself humming along, angling her head towards the skies.  She walked across the ring following the tether all while scanning the clear, blue sky for him.  There; he was circling the ring dropping lower and lower to make for a smooth landing.  Her wings twitched and she smiled, closing her eyes and letting the sun wash over her face; maybe just for a moment she can pretend it never happened and he will swoop down and greet her, kissing her like he always did when he came home.

She felt a rush of wind behind her as he landed, his wings flapping to steady himself.  She turned around and they locked eyes but he quickly looked away with what he thought was shame and what she thought was indifference.

They finished the obstacle course and she surveyed it, nodding her head slowly.  

“Same one as your’s Princess,” Cassian clapped her on the back and grinned.

She rolled her eyes.  “You think they'll beat it?”

“I hope so.”

[candywife333]

Hey can u write a Professor Jimin fvcking slutty student(like with some degrading and blackmailing shit), Jimin blackmails oc with her naked videos which he secrectly filmed?

PART 1

Don't Test Me

Thank you for the request! Sorry it took a while to get to it. Will be posting daily from now on. Finished all my major exams and am ready to write limitlessly now. As usual , not proofread.

chubby insecure student y/n x Professor Jimin (nasty yandere-ish).

WILL HAVE ONE MORE PART (SMUT)

Triggers: eventual smut, dubcon, blackmail

"Y/N, stay back. I have a few things I need to discuss with you".

I stood there shell-shocked. Had no idea why Prof. Jimin would want to talk to me. I did my work silently, maintained a consistent B+ in his class, and made sure I never caused any disruption. He had a fan club filled with some of my most beautiful classmates that fawned all over him at any given time of the day. So what would he possibly need from me?

Most people in school acted as though I were invisible. And as much as others may hate it, I loved being a loner. I didn't want to be noticed. Didn't want to take up space. My life's goal is to be forgotten. Probably had to do with the fact that whenever I was noticed, it was never a pleasant experience.

I turned back to face Professor Jimin. He had a quizzical arch to his brow, almost in a questioning manner, as thought to ask why I kept so much space between me and him. If I didn't know any better, I would say that his plump lips were lifted up in a slight smirk, defiantly arrogant. Black eyes glinted back at me with an unrecognizable solemnity. Sent shivers down my back , an emotion akin to fear. He had never come off this scary before. Prof. Jimin was usually stern within good reason, but never this outright intimidating.

As though he knew something I didn't. He grumbled in a rather sharp tone of voice, "Close the door behind you Y/N. This is to be a private conversation. And come closer to my desk so I can talk to you without literally having to shout at you".

I gingerly closed the door behind me and walked over to his desk, dreading how up close I would have to be to face him. I hated invading people's personal space and I felt the same about other's encroaching on mine. Made me dicy and uncomfortable. Yet, I had no choice. I reluctantly sat in the chair right in front of his desk while he occupied the chair on the other side.

How did he even know my name? I never answered in class and was mostly just silent. The TAs usually graded all papers and assignments. He wouldn't know me, unless he made it a point to know me. This made me even more queasy. Sweat lined my forehead, droplets slowly sliding down the nape of my neck.

His face relaxed into a grin, white teeth encased by soft fluffy pink lips. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, he calmly implored, "Are you feeling alright Y/N? You seem a little nervous". I shook my head side to side rapidly as though I were a mute, gulping down my trepidation. "Nothing at all Professor Jimin, just a little stressed out with the work load in other classes", I managed to whisper out in a rush.

He laughed, his entire body shaking with laughter, tears dripping down his angelic face. Wasn't this a bit excessive reaction to what I had just said? Was he mocking what I had expressed?

The atmosphere strangely enough took on a sinister air. His black bottomless eyes, empty of all humor stilled on me. He grabbed my hand in his, a rather sudden motion, making me freeze in confusion. As he traced the lines of my hand, he hissed, "Of course you would be the only student worried about assignments, when you have grave issues of much more dire proportions to contend with Y/N".

I withdrew my hand from his warmth in bewilderment, muffling out , "I don't think I-I quite understand Professor. Have I done something wrong in class? Do I need to be punished for some mistake I made"?

My brain mindlessly droned on in a convoluted mess, calculating what I could've possibly done wrong in his class. Before I could even process it, Prof. Jimin was on the side of his table, leaning down towards my face. I flinched at his proximity. But he didn't let me get much further away.

He grabbed the nape of my neck as his breath ghosted across my lips. "Since we are in math class Y/N, what do you think about this angle"? My eyes focused on the phone screen placed in front of me. It showed a girl, chubby flesh overflowing , steam rising up all around her, completely naked bathing. As I looked closer, fear clouded my mind. Terror gripping my bones. That was me in the video.

My flushed skin, all red and blotchy from the steaming water of the shower was shown in perfect clarity. The only thing that couldn't be viewed in this video was my face, obscured by the steam. All my other body parts--droopy breasts , jiggly arms, bushy p**sy-- were visible on screen. The video was in perfect line with my frame, as though a voyeur were looking in through a keyhole, holding a camera.

My face whipped to view Professor Jimin's face. I was disgusted. Did he do this? No boy in this school would ever bother to do this. I was not attractive. Me and pretty didn't even run in the same circles. Heck she wasn't even a distant relative of mine. Why would anybody bother to take a nude video of the university's chronic loner?

Professor Jimin looked unfazed as he coolly calmly stated, no quiver in his voice, "Do you want this leaked to the university admin"? I felt like I was dying internally, squeaking out in a watery warble, tears streaming down my face in torrents, "No Sir. I-I don't. Please I beg you to get rid of this. I don't know who could have p-p-p-ossibly have done this".

I stammered out in a panic, getting on my knees on the floor below, holding his legs with both hands, begging him,"I am not even pretty. I don't have a clue who would take videos of me like this. I would never send anyone anything like this. P-please help me professor".

I looked up at Professor Jimin, expecting the cold expression he had on through this entire interaction. But what I saw in his face didn't make any sense. He seemed indignant. In fact enraged. I don't think I ever see him like this even in class. He grabbed me in an abrupt motion, with a strength I didn't think he had in him for how lithe he looks to be.

He pushed me against the wooden table, bellowing in my face, "Who told you that you weren't pretty"?

He held my wrists in his hands, restraining me in such a manner that I could not move them. I scoffed as tears stained my face, " Professor, who would even care to see me naked? This must be some horrible prank. It looks like a video of me taking a shower in the university gym after dance practice. But honestly, I don't get why it was even taken. You can see how unappealing my body looks".

I continued to sniffle in silence, till I was yanked back by the back of my hair. My eyes met his head on as he proclaimed rather bluntly, "I would. I would care to see you naked. In fact, I called you to my room to tell you that I took the video. And if you ever want it deleted, never to be seen by any other person's eyes other than mine, you must do as I say".

I crumpled in resignation, back slouching , defeated. Why would he even do this? I never did anything to him to warrant this type of blackmail. But I met his gaze that glimmered with something warm. I couldn't name it yet. I felt his left arm curl around my waist, pressing me closer to him, my clothed clit pressed against the front of his trousers as I set on the desk. I croaked out blankly, " What do I need to do Professor. What should I do to get rid of this video? I don't understand why you took it in the first place. But what can I do to never have those shown to anyone else"?

A victorious smirk filtered onto his otherwise angelic face as his finger rubbed against my clothed clit , an unyielding metal ring prodding against my hardened bud. I tried not to moan as he whispered into my ear, "All you have to do is be mine. Let me have my way with you forever. That is all".

[cheollipop]

chicken rice porridge

navi | taglist | pt.1

pairing: choi san x gn!reader

w.c.: 2.2k

tags: FLUFF, seriously so fluffy I could cry, non-sexual nudity (<;3)

After catching his cold, San laboured to make sure you didn't have to lift a finger, holding you so tightly in his warm embrace that the sniffles had no choice but to go away.

A/N: I cried, giggled, blushed, then threw up writing this. Also, thank you so so so so so much for all the love you guys gave me on pt.1, I appreciate you all sm! I hope you like this one as well! :")

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

The bags crinkled as San hauled them through your front door, knuckles white as they bore their weight. He nudged the door with his hip, waiting for it to click shut before slipping his shoes off and turning the corner into the living room. 

"No, no! What are you doing?" He whined, rushing to the kitchen and dropping the heavy bags on the island before speed-walking towards the couch where you sat, working on the document your boss had sent you earlier. "Babe, you need to rest!"

"I'm almost done," you kept your eyes fixed on the screen, bloodshot and teary, burning as the bright light hit them. "Wait-" You gripped the width of the device as San ripped it off your lap. 

"No. No more working." 

"Sannie, please. Just five more minutes," you pouted, tugging the laptop towards you; his grip around it did not budge.

"You already took the day off, you can do it when you feel better." 

You huffed, knowing that he wouldn't relent, and your fingers eased around the laptop, allowing San to slip it out of your hands. He quickly saved the document before shutting the lid, gently setting it on the coffee table, away from the pile of tissues you had been collecting. 

He had felt guilty for making you sick, but seeing the soft pout adorning your lips, he felt slightly better. You were so cute. Taking your appearance in – greasy hair tangled and disheveled, red nose sniffling while you wiped at your teary eyes, lips cracked and dry, your tongue peeking out to wet them every so often – he couldn't help but smile. Even now, he still found you beautiful. It was almost sickening how infatuated he was with you. 

"Let's get you washed up," he spoke, voice sweet as honey, a fond smile on his lips.

–

Submerging yourself into the steaming bath, your muscles relaxed as warmth engulfed your body. Your head rested on the edge of the tub, San behind you, hands running over your shoulders and softly squeezing the soft skin. You hummed contently, sinking further into the water, your eyes fluttering shut. 

San worked silently, palms rubbing up and down your arms, then back up your shoulders, massaging the back of your neck, gently digging his fingers into the stiff muscle.

"Feels good," you muttered, melting into his touch.

San leaned forward and pressed his lips to your temple. He turned on the shower head and pressed it to your scalp, waiting until the water saturated your hair before turning it back off. With one hand running through the wet strands, his other reached for the shampoo bottle next to him, opening it and squeezing some into his hand. Rubbing the shampoo between his palms, he watched the suds form before spreading them onto your hair, the floral scent permeating the air around you. Your eyes remained shut as you breathed out a sigh, reveling in the scratch of San's blunt nails against your scalp.

You didn't feel yourself slumping down until his breathy chuckle echoed in the room. "Babe, you're going to drown." 

You pulled yourself up, giggling as you rested your head back, safely situated in the tub again. He held your face in his hands, thumbs brushing against your cheek and coating them with the leftover soap before leaving you to grab the shower head again. He turned the water back on, making sure to flush out every last bubble, running his fingers through the now-clean locks. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, your eyes opening to meet his, cheeks blushing at the way he was looking at you – the corners of his eyes wrinkling, dimples peeking out to greet you, his smile so warm it made the bath water feel icy against your skin. 

"Don't stare too hard, you might fall in love," he teased, dimples sinking further into his skin, eyes almost forming perfect crescents. 

"It might be a little too late for that," a shy smile tugged at your lips and his finger booped your nose, pinching your cheek gently before pulling himself up.

He simply stood there to admire you, hands at his hips with nothing but fondness gracing his features. You instinctively curled in on yourself, suddenly feeling exposed. San picked up on your timidness, letting his head drop so he could hide the grin splitting his face. You were so cute. He chose not to comment on the bright red coating on your cheeks, moving towards the door after placing a fluffy towel next to the clothes he'd set out for you. 

"I'm going to change your sheets," he put his palm out to dodge your incoming complaints. "Call me when you're done, I'll be happy to help you dress." The wink he sent your way almost gave you a heatstroke. With a breathy chuckle and dimples on show, he walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

You sat up, sighing and slapping your hands against your heated cheeks. Sickness was nothing compared to having to deal with your boyfriend. Choi San will be the death of you.

–

Walking out of the stuffy bathroom, dressed in a clean set of clothes – a hoodie you'd stolen from San and a pair of sweatpants – you made your way through the apartment, peeking your head into the kitchen where you’d heard your boyfriend clattering around. 

San stood behind the island, hands working on tying the apron strings behind his back, ingredients scattered over the marble. Your eyes zero in on the rather huge knife – your sharpest one – sitting on the wooden cutting board in front of him. 

"Sannie?" 

His head jerked upwards, features easing when he saw you practically swimming in his clothes, a smile instantly curving the corners of his lips. "Feel better?" 

You nod, stepping towards him slowly, eyes fixed on the knife. "What… are you doing?" 

"Making porridge for my sweetest (Y/n)." 

Your heart did a little jump at how easily the words rolled off his tongue, heat rushing to your cheeks. You got distracted by his words, too busy calming the butterflies in your stomach to notice him reaching for the knife. It scraped against the wood as he lifted it, startling you back to the present. 

"No!" Your hands reached out to hold his wrist, untangling the knife from between his fingers and safely depositing it back on the wooden board. 

He looked at you, eyebrows raised and his mouth forming a surprised 'o'. "Baby?" 

He had seemed so excited to cook for you; you almost gave in and left him to do as he pleased. But then you remembered the last time he wanted to make you a meal, having to evacuate his apartment as smoke took over the rooms; he had to buy a new stovetop. And the time he decided it would be a great idea to use the biggest knife he could find to chop an apple and had to get seven stitches. Moral of the story: Choi San should not be allowed in the kitchen. 

"Let's just order in." You wrapped your arms around one of his, feeling his biceps flex against your chest. 

His bottom lip jutted out, eyebrows drawing in. "But I want to cook for you. I even asked your mum for the recipe." 

Your heart clenched so hard at the visual of San putting his phone on speaker to write down the recipe your mother was dictating to him, his tongue poking out the corner of his lips in concentration. You almost doubled over simply imagining it. Looking up at him, your heart did that funny thing again as you met his sulky expression – eyes staring off to the side, wrinkles between his eyebrows, fiddling his fingers where they sat on the island. You wanted to kiss his pout away but held yourself back – you didn't want to start a cycle of germ-sharing (again). Deciding to spare him from the harsh truth – that his cooking might send you to the afterlife before any virus could – you tell a little, white lie.

"But I reeaaally want tteokbokki," you mirror his pouty lips, tugging at his arm. "I haven't craved anything in days, Sannie, pleease?" 

You smiled to yourself, sitting on the couch, huddled between three different blankets, pillows surrounding you from every direction. San shut the front door, carrying the bag of takeout into the living room and setting it on the table in front of you. 

"Okay! Let's eat." He rubbed his palms together, untying the plastic bag and taking the containers out.

He sat on the table in front of you, breaking apart the chopsticks and balancing the container on his knees. Scooping up a rice cake, he rolled it in the sauce and brought it to your lips. "Open up." 

He looked overjoyed, like a puppy who finally got to go on a walk after having to wait all night for his owners to wake up. You did as he said, biting on the chewy rice cake, sighing as you swallowed, warmth spreading through you.

"Sannie, come sit next to me," you patted the cushion next to you, tugging on his sleeve from where you were, drowning between the fleece blankets he had wrapped you in. 

"But I want to feed you!" He complained, already working on grabbing more food with the chopsticks, stuffing it in your mouth before you could argue.

"Fine," you pouted as you chewed. "But you should eat too," you spoke, words muffled as San continued to shovel tteokbokki into your mouth. 

He only smiled, grabbing his own chopsticks and taking a bite from his portion, turning back around to feed you like God himself had ordered him to. 

"Shlow down-" You sucked in desperate breaths through the food blocking your airway, almost choking, San rubbing your back until you swallowed it down. You smacked his arm and he yelped, rubbing over his bicep. "I can't breath through my nose, are you trying to kill me?"

He muttered a quiet sorry, but the restrained smile on his lips, threatening to erupt into a whole-hearted grin, made you believe otherwise – that he wasn’t as sorry as he had claimed to be. But you couldn't be mad at him, secretly enjoying all the attention he was so generously giving you, not allowing you to lift a finger, showering you with his never-ending love. How could you ever complain? 

After San finished feeding you your portion of tteokbokki – and half of his – you finally managed to pull him onto the couch with you. His arms circled around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. The Greatest Showman played on the TV across from you, and you settled on listening to San’s soft voice as he hummed along to the songs, his chest vibrating against your temple. His fingers ran through your now-dry hair, the back of your neck tingling at his ministrations.

Your eyes began to droop as the credits rolled in, blinking quickly to stop yourself from falling asleep. San twisted his neck to peek at you, trying his best to remain still in case you had fallen asleep. He breathed out a laugh through his nostrils, squeezing your shoulder and effectively pushing you closer into his chest. 

“Does my darling want to sleep?”

You hummed, nuzzling your face into his neck, the skin warm against the tip of your nose. "Just want to cuddle," you slurred.

San's smile threatened to split his face in half. “Not that I’m not enjoying being your pillow, but I think we’d be more comfortable in bed.” He poked at your sides, making you squirm in his arms.

“Shhh, you’re hurting my head,” your fingers pawed at his face, trying to manually shut his lips, only to be met with his toothy smile.

Your hand dropped onto the shoulder opposite to the one your head rested on, eyelids falling shut despite your attempts at fighting your drowsiness. Inhaling the soft scent of bergamot diffusing off San’s skin, his fingers never ceasing their ministrations in your hair, you felt yourself slip into much-needed slumber, the fatigue encircling your body fading away as you lay within San’s embrace.

San felt as your body slumped against his, the steady rise and fall of your chest. He unfurled his fingers from your soft locks, wrapping his arm around your middle-back. With the other secured behind your knees, he rose to his feet, cradling you against his body and making his way to your bedroom. He made the fatal mistake of looking down at your resting face, noticing the smudge of tteokbokki at the corner of your parted lips, soft puffs of air blowing against the cotton of his shirt. He stood there, head tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut, holding himself back from smothering your face with kisses.  

You were so cute.

San forced himself to move, walking into your room and setting you down on the mattress. He pulled out a wet wipe from your drawer, wiping the remnants of your dinner from your lips, his eye twitching as he stopped himself from placing a kiss against the plush of your lips. Climbing into bed with you, he moved you into his arms again, wrapping you up in his warmth and pressing his lips against your forehead. San relished the feeling of the warm puffs of air against his neck, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo while sleep tugged at his eyelids. He held you tightly, nuzzling his cheek against yours as he felt himself being dragged into slumber, hoping to meet you in his dreams.

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Take Me On A Joyride

Bradley Bradshaw x Penny’s niece!reader 3k words

summary: After two months of successfully sneaking around with Bradley, things finally kick off.

a/n: because who wouldn't want more fucking rooster bradshaw???? i personally always want more of him so. fair warning, this is like, practically smut? not really but this goes further than allusion, i'd say. idk. maybe part four will actually be smut, who kows?

sequel to "Tuesday Night", “Not A Coincidence” and “Rooster At 5, Bradley At Night", can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

The soft hum of boiling water filled the air, sunlight dripped through the window down the kitchen counters as you rested your head against a cabinet and listened to the old-school radio Bradley had thrifted from some flea-market a few weeks ago play softly in the background. You turned with a yawn and poured two cups of tea, traipsing back into the bedroom on tiptoes (you were barefoot and the laminate floors were colder than you'd thought when you had rolled out of bed).

"Here", you muttered, carefully handing one of the mugs to Bradley. He'd sat up while you'd been in the kitchen and the covers were pooling in his lap, leaving him with an adorable bedhead and an incredibly bare chest that had you practically drooling. You could just so resist reaching out and touching him - letting your fingertips skip over his skin, brushing along his collarbones, his abs...

"Thanks", he said, already blowing air into his cup while you settled back into bed next to him, pressing your side into his just slightly. He was warm, so unbelievably warm, like he always was. You let out a tiny sigh of content and closed your eyes, resting your head against the back wall and relaxing. Because you could relax here, wholly and absolutely. With Bradley next to you, the scent of him on every pillow, every blanket, every shirt, even the one you were wearing right now. Especially the one you were wearing right now, because he'd worn that yesterday and you'd picked it off of the ground this morning when you'd got up to go to the bathroom.

You heard Bradley shuffle around, his cup clink to his side table and felt the mattress shift before he dropped a soft kiss to your shoulder. You smiled, deep and genuine, but kept your eyes closed. He'd have to do a bit more than that to get your attention. But he knew that, of course, and he was only just getting started.

He brushed another kiss onto your skin, a little higher up, and one more and one more and one more - trailing a line of kisses from your shoulder to your neck, reaching one hand around to put on your thigh, stroking softly up and down and oh yeah, he had your attention now. He definitely had your attention now.

You could feel his grin against your skin when he realised it too, his thumb grazing the hem of your shirt (his shirt), raising it up just a little, making your breath hitch. He chuckled at that.

"Are we a bit sensitive?", he whispered against your skin, pressing a few more open-mouthed kisses against your jawline. You took a deep breath in and out and opened your eyes again, tilting your head to the side so he could reach the sweet spot on your neck as you carefully put your cup onto the side table, just to be safe.

"You should know that by now, Lieutenant", you muttered, a small grin on your lips because you knew very, very, very well just what you'd done right now.

If you'd learnt anything about LT Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, it was that he had a name kink. You'd found that out the second ever time you'd kissed him, on the fateful Thursday morning in Penny's bar two months ago, and had ever since used it against him whenever you'd been able to. Which had been a lot.

And it proved the right choice once again, because that absolutely animalistic grunt left his throat that had you going feral every single time. So admittedly, maybe the whole name kink thing wasn't just for him, maybe it was for you as well. Maybe when you brought it out, that was always the exact moment when you decided there should be no going back anymore, because after that Bradley would not go back anymore. Or maybe you'd made that choice two months ago because by god, you would never be going back ever again either.

"You're a menace", he murmured against your neck before pushing away, his fingers digging into your thigh to pull you down. You squealed, reaching up to claw at his biceps as your head hit the pillow again.

"Bradley!", you laughed, winning at least a grin from him before he leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss, finally. You sighed into him, pressing your nails into the bare skin of his arms, combing up into his hair to tug at his roots as he pushed himself onto one elbow and brushed his hand up your thigh, raising the hem of your (his!) shirt over your hips, his thumb stroking over bare skin... Your breath hitched for the second time this morning.

Bradley moved down to your throat again, to your collarbones, to just where the collar of your (...his) shirt began, pressing open mouthed-kisses everywhere, biting down on your skin when he realised he couldn't go farther down, soothing the sting with his tongue, biting, kissing the same spot again and again.

"Roos", you sighed, already regretting the words before they'd left your mouth.

"Can't leave marks, I know", he muttered before you could as much as finish - you'd said it so often by now that you weren't even surprised. But you and Bradley had managed to keep this whole... relationship? you hadn't yet put a name on it, but whatever it was, you'd managed to keep it a secret from the squad so far. You weren't about to risk that for a hickey, however insistent Bradley was.

But it was difficult. It was so incredibly difficult to say no to him, with his fingers sneaking up your stomach and his lips just above your collar.

"Yeah", you breathed, sinking one hand further into his hair and tossing the other one up to clutch at your pillow as he pushed your shirt up, up and up, and moved down, down and down your body. You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp and threw your head back at the feeling of his moustache against the inside of your thigh, his fingertips dancing down the skin of your stomach, anticipation building higher and higher, an open-mouthed kiss pressed to your bare skin, a bite an inch higher, the same again, again and again until-

"Bradshaw! Emergency, you've got a shaker, right? Mine broke and I need one for the party tonight and-"

It was Bradley's fault, definitely, that you hadn't heard the key being turned or the door being opened. It was Bradley's fault as well that you couldn't scramble up and try to hide nearly as quickly as you wanted to - the very second you heard Jake's voice call out in the hallway, you were sitting up, raising yourself up on your palms. Just that Bradley was kind of in the way a bit and had wanted to sit up at the same time and now your knee bumped right into his temple.

"Shit!", you cursed as Bradley groaned, raising a hand to press it to his head and sitting up on his knees. You had a little more room now, a little more room to rush to get up as well, Jake pushed into the back of your mind because hell, you'd just maybe given your boyfriend-situationship-whatever-thing a concussion. "Are you okay? Oh my god, Bradley, are you alright?"

You reached out to take his face in your hands, to turn his head and try and see if you'd actually, seriously injured him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, I'm fine, I-"

"Oh hell no."

You froze at the sound of Jake's voice. Bradley did, too. Then you turned your head just the slightest bit, as if in slowmotion - yes, there he was, Jake Seresin, leaning against the doorway with an unmistakeable grin.

"You're hooking up", he said, with an astoundment in his voice that you'd never ever heard come out of his mouth ever before. "You're hooking up. I should have known! Of course you're hooking up. Phoenix will kill you guys when she finds out I knew first."

"Hangman-"

"I'll just text her. I'll just text her right now. You're hooking up, Bradshaw, wouldn't have guessed you're actually getting any! And Junior too, aren't you basically family? I mean, if Maverick ever decides to marry Penny-"

"Jake! Oh my god, stop talking!"

You took a deep breath in, closed your eyes, ran a hand over your face and then looked at him again. You'd known Jake could talk, he'd always talked annoyingly much, but he'd never talked this obnoxiously. He did, however, always have that horrible fucking grin on his face and right now, you could have strangled him for it.

At least your shirt (Bradley's shirt) had fallen back down. You didn't think you'd have survived this encounter if you'd been naked.

You threw one exasperated glance at Bradley, who took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it and alright, maybe you would be fine. You'd kept this a secret for two months, but... Maybe you'd reached the point where the squad could know. After all, you had been dating for two months now. That had been quite enough time to get to know each other, privately, on your own accord, without any pressure from outside, from any other people.

"Yes, we are hooking up", you said, and if you hadn't deemed it impossible before, you would've said Jake's grin deepened even further. "But kind of... not only that. We've been going on dates, too."

This wasn't the perfect moment to talk about it. By god, this wasn't even a good moment to talk about it. But you knew Jake - he'd probably already texted the group chat about you and Bradley, you'd rather he spread the truth than some run-down version of what the last two months had been. Even if you weren't that sure what exactly the last two months had been.

Jake whistled appreciatively.

"So this is actually happening then", he laughed. "Good on you Bradshaw, who would've guessed. Got yourself a girlfriend."

Your eyes widened at that. Bradley was still holding your hand, resting on the soft covers, but he wasn't moving, wasn't brushing over your knuckles or dancing his fingertips along your wrist, staring down Jake with almost a scowl. You knew when Bradley stopped moving, that was when it got real.

Oh lord, hopefully he wasn't scared off now.

You hadn't kept it casual the last two months, of course. You hadn't started a whole "friends-with-benefits" situation, no, you had in fact been going on dates, had spent most of your nights in the same bed, had woken up in the morning to eat breakfast together and drink a cup of tea, had kissed each other good bye when you'd had to go to work and had flirted over the bar counter at the Hard Deck when you'd been sure none of your friends were around. But you hadn't yet put a label on it. And until just now, it hadn't felt that necessary.

But the silence stretched for two seconds too many and you were just about to open your mouth and deny that you were Bradley's girlfriend in any way, shape or form, when he took it upon himself to speak up.

"Yeah, Bagman", he sighed, clutching your hand tighter, "She's my girlfriend, cat's out of the bag. You satisfied?"

Jake raised his hands and chuckled, taking a step back into the hallway.

"Me? I don't give a damn. Just hope you're satisfied, Junior, otherwise, you know..." He winked and was out the door then, disappearing around the corner and into the kitchen before you could even begin to roll your eyes at him.

"Shaker's in the right cabinet and then get the fuck out of my house, Seresin!", Bradley called after him, tilting his head back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as you stared at him. Stared at this hunk of a man, all broad shoulders and rippling abs and the strength to throw you over his shoulder, the skill to sing and play the piano like an absolute god, the looks to kill about three people every time he walked into a room, who you'd been hooking up with for two months now... Stared at this man who was your boyfriend, apparently.

Before he'd even fully turned back to you, you were already pulling your hand from his and straddling him and pushing him back onto the mattress. He let out a choked gasp, then his hands found your waist and he was pulling you onto him like you were magnets, drawn together like some invisible force, unable to be without each other ever again.

"Girlfriend, yes?", you asked, your voice a bit too breathy to sound quite normal and your lips tugging into a grin you simply couldn't push back down.

"If that's what you want, yes, absolutely", he nodded - you couldn't help but notice that his voice sounded a little husky, that his eyes traveled down, that his hands brushed just high enough along your back to still be decent. God damn it, this man would be the death of you. And it seemed like he felt quite the same way about you too. Maybe that was part of his charm - that he always let you see how much you affected him.

You bit your lip to stare at him for just a second (at his hair and his eyes and his nose and his lips, his lips, his lips) before leaning down and finally kissing him again. You didn't think you would ever get enough of kissing him.

"Roos", you mumbled, pulling back, eyes still closed, breaths still mingling, foreheads still pressed together, "Bradley, baby. I want to be your girlfriend so badly."

You leaned back in then, desperate, starving and frenzied, digging your teeth into his bottom lip, swiping your tongue along his, sighing into his mouth, scratching your nails along his collarbones, shifting just the slightest bit down his body, your naked thighs against his waist, against his hips...

You let out a soft moan, pushing away from the kiss just to breathe against his lips, your eyes squeezed shut and your skin burning up. Bradley pulled one hand away from your hips to cup your face, to brush your hair behind your ear and run his thumb along your cheekbone.

"Look at me", he murmured, in that soft tone that you couldn't ignore even if you wanted to. Your eyes fluttered open all of their own accord - you had to blink once, twice, before you could actually focus on him, before the haze disappeared and before you could see the faint bits of red on his cheeks, the way his pupils had widened. A grin spread on his lips when you finally looked back at him. "Good girl."

Good girl.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to ignore the shiver those words sent down your spine.

"Jake's still somewhere in the kitchen", you muttered (you could distantly hear his footsteps and the sound of a cabinet closing now that you listened for it), because as much as you loved Bradley, you were not about to sleep with him with Jake in the next room.

"Bagman", he groaned, clenching his jaw and soothingly moving his hand up your back, away from the risk of staggering into the indecent. "Hasn't stopped annoying me since we got here and just cost me a joyride."

He did have to smile a bit at that, leant in, pressed his lips to yours for a moment and then let his head sink back into the pillow. You had to grin as well.

"Well don't worry", you promised, bending down to nuzzle his nose with yours. "Now that I'm your girlfriend, you can get a joyride anytime you want."

With that, you pulled your legs from him and rolled onto the colder, less comfortable side of the bed, laughter dying on your lips and Bradley groaning next to you. Your chest was still heaving, your shirt ridden up almost to your stomach now, the covers messed up and tangled around Bradley's legs and you were feeling incredibely mushy inside. You wanted him between your legs again, wanted to straddle him again, wanted to feel him everywhere, on every inch, every curve of your body again, but you couldn't, not right now, not here, not with Jake in the kitchen, not when he'd already almost seen you naked.

Bradley made some sound of approval and reached for your waist again, to pull you into his side, to drop an innocent kiss to your clothed shoulder and smile at you.

"That's true", he muttered. "Now that you're my girlfriend, I've got everything I could ever want."

[adalricus]

Infatuated with you pt.3

Pt.2 Pt.4

Cw:Yandere Themes, mafia themes, gn reader, reader is a model, power imbalance,manipulation,blackmail, stalking

It was reaching 6 pm, and you were horrified when the chauffer arrived. You adorned a silk, red dress with a slit on its side. You pondered how you got yourself into this mess and somehow continuously worse. Just then, you heard a knock on the, and you just knew it was the chauffer. As you reached for the door handle handbag clutched in your other hand, your heart sunk as you opened. The chauffer was a comforting friend, Anthony, the agency's secretary. "You look ravishing tonight, my dearest (y/n). Are you ready to leave?" He said, reaching his hand out towards you .You took his hand and nodded. The car ride was silent and seemed to stretch into an excruciatingly long one, "You know, you remind me so much of my dear late sister." The sudden statement that flowed from Anthony's lips shocked you. "I do?" You reply, " Of course, young, beautiful, kindhearted, she passed when I was 20. In a burglary incident, if I was less incompetent that night, she would still be here." Anthony said with a somber tone, and after he said that the air felt thick and stuffy, the only thing you could mutter was a sympathetic apology. "Don't worry about it, I feel as though you just being around is healing me enough. I consider you to be a younger sister figure to me. This time, I'm not losing you, though." He states, "What?" You ask him to interpret further in surprise. "You are my little sister figure now. That's what I consider you as, and I will do what's needed to protect." The gall he had while making that profession, the silence that befell you both as you as you sought-after word to say was interrupted by the sound of a gate open. You felt your heart sink to yours, and you felt like you wanted to vomit, yet your stomach was empty, and you simply gagged silently. The mansion was dark and beautiful yet elegant you saw multiple men dressed dark and dapper, and in complete contrast freelance thugs were doing favor after favor like washing cars and doing the yard was being done for the boss. Anthony opened the car door for you, and you walked out he held you as he walked you to the mansion. The men in suits and the thugs looked at you, and felt in tranced by you and your allure, I mean, you were a model for reason, weren't you. "Boss, me and (y/n) have arrived." Anthony announced. He turned to you and spoke so unbelievably sweetly. "Go ahead and sit on the couch, sweetheart, I'll get you some juice," He said before leaving the room. You walked towards the couch and took a seat. You took in the surroundings maroons, golds, and hints of blacks with white being the main color, so the house felt more open. You looked down at your phone before you heard 2 sets of footsteps and chatting "(y/n). Here you go, sweetheart, your favorite." Anthony said before giving you your drink. You looked up at him and took it before glancing at Victor. "Well then, I'll leave you two to it, and Victor, kindly remember what we spoke about." Anthony said before leaving, Victor sat down next to you while making direct eye contact. "(y/n) do you know what I've called you here for?" Victor said, his deep voice almost rumbled. You shook your head slowly, "Well I want you to be mine." He announced, and he observed the shocked look on your face. "I, of course, will give you your freedom and want you to continue modeling, but I want you to come home to me and me to you." You were flabbergasted "I-I honestly wouldn't want to I-" He interrupted you "You don't have a choice, after we both have dinner Anthony will take you home to that dingy studio apartment of yours, I'll give you 2 days to pack your things as you'll be living with me from here on out." The both of you at dinner both across the dining table, opposite each other. The food was delicious, but the thick tension in the air almost completely ruined that. You finished your food quickly, almost gobbling it down. Anthony took you to the car as requested by Victor. "(y/n) sweetheart, just stay in the car. Me and Victor are going to talk for a bit." Anthony says before closing your door and leaving . What did they say

[jedipoodoo]

We Should Stick Together (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: Based on the Whispers of Ghosts Series by @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender. A semi-sequel to my previous vignette "Safe Haven". Reader is nicknamed Bright Eyes and formerly worked as a Social Worker on Kamino. Takes place between 03x09 "The Harbinger" and 03x11 "The Point of No Return". Slightly suggestive at the end there.

It had been several hours since Ventress's visit had drawn to a close. Omega was sleeping over with Lyana, recounting every detail of her brief training with the former assassin, and Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair sat around the table on Shep's porch, talking intently in hushed voices. Bright was curious, of course, but she let Hunter talk with his brothers as she helped Shep clean up from dinner. Shep insisted she didn't need to help, her legs were still sore and she had dizzy spells from time to time, but Bright liked feeling useful. Shep and Pabu had done so much for her, it was the least she could do. 

The dishes were almost done when the whispering on the porch ceased. Bright recognized Wrecker's heavy footsteps leading away from the house, and assumed they were all retiring to the ship. She quickly finished, made sure to say goodnight to the girls, and left. She was surprised to find Hunter waiting for her on the porch.

"Hunter, you didn't have to wait for me." she sighed, but smiled. She knew even with all the stress Ventress had given him, he wouldn't miss out on a chance to spend time with her. It was a luxury Kamino, the war, and her work on Alderaan had never afforded them.

Hunter rose from his chair and leaned over to press a kiss to her forehead, "I wanted to walk you home."

His voice was heavy with exhaustion, and Bright's heart fluttered. Hunter laced his fingers through hers, and waited for Bright to start walking before he followed. 

"I was hoping you'd come out and join us on the porch," Hunter said. Was that... Disappointment in his voice? 

Bright shrugged and rubbed her hands along her arms to warm them up, "I didn't know you wanted me there."

"I want you with us. With me." Hunter squeezed her hand. 

Bright pressed her arm against his as they walked. Hunter took smaller strides to keep their pace even. 

"What did you talk about?" Bright asked as they approached Phee's house. Phee rarely ever used it, and she insisted that Bright stay so that she would have privacy while she recovered from her recent kidnapping. Bright didn't mind the privacy, and neither did Hunter. 

"Ventress's warning," Hunter opened the door for Bright, "She said it would be too easy for the Empire to find us here."

Maybe Shep had been right that cleaning would exhaust her. Bright's legs started to buckle, and she sat down on the couch to take a deep breath. 

Hunter turned on the lights and sat next to her.

"Crosshair and Wrecker agree that the best thing to do is to leave." 

Bright's heart fell. Leaving again. Hunter and his family had lost every home they'd ever had, they didn't deserve to be chased all over the galaxy like this. Why couldn't the universe give them a break?

Tears began to well in her eyes as her thoughts turned more selfish. She didn't want Hunter to leave Pabu because she didn't want him to leave her. Of course, she'd been the one to leave the first time, but not because she had another choice. Then again, she supposed Hunter didn't have a choice here, either. There wasn't a thing he wouldn't do to protect his family, especially Omega, and now that they'd gotten Crosshair back....

She couldn't keep Hunter to herself. She knew that when she first started to fall in love with him. 

Hunter cradled her chin in his hand, "Oh sweet girl, we'll come back of course. Once Echo and Rex figure out where Tantiss is, we'll help them destroy it. Then we'll be free, we won't have to worry about them coming after Omega anymore, for whatever reason."

That eased some of the ache in Bright's heart, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, "Good, I'm glad to hear that."

Hunter gently pulled her onto his lap, massaging the sore muscles in her thighs and lower back. He buried his face in her neck, and Bright felt his smile against her skin. 

"Where will you go?" She asked. 

Hunter paused, and lifted his head to look at her. 

"'You'?" he asked, confused. 

Bright blinked, and her lips pursed as she wondered what he meant. Now she was confused as well. 

"Bright, you're coming with us." Hunter said.

If his hands weren't supporting her back, Bright Eyes would have gotten whiplash. 

"What?" She stammered. 

Hunter placed his hands on her arms, gently grounding her. 

"Bright, I want you to come with us." He insisted.

Bright tried to say several things, but none of them made it from her brain to her mouth. 

"Do you not want to come with us?" Hunter's eyes reflected the lamplight, making him look like a kicked massif pup. 

"N-No!" Bright blurted, "I-I mean yes- no, I mean, yes, I want to come with you." she finished with a breathless gasp. 

Hunter's eyes shone, lifting his entire body with a smile,"Good." He pressed his lips to hers without another question. 

"I've almost lost you twice now," He murmured in between kisses. His lips brushed her cheek, her nose, her forehead, "Both times almost destroyed me. I won't leave you again." 

Bright sighed into the last kiss as Hunter's hands slid down her back, wrapping around her waist. Her earlier worries sounded so stupid now, of course Hunter would want them to go together.

She laced her fingers into his hair, bringing his head to rest against her chest

"I never want to be without you ever again," Hunter said.

Bright's whole body felt electric, like static primed to leap to the nearest metal surface. "Hunter, are you asking me to marry you?" Bright whispered. Her whole body tingled in anticipation, waiting for his answer. 

Hunter looked up, studying her. He was absolutely quiet, and Bright was worried that wasn't his intention at all. 

Before she could panic, Hunter pressed his nose against hers and took a deep breath. 

"When I propose to you, it's going to be just about the two of us. No Empire, no brothers, not even Omega. Just you and me. It's going to be on a day that only has happy memories for the two of us, something romantic, something you'll look back on and giggle like a child."

Bright ran her tongue over her lips. 

"I like that idea," She said. Hunter chuckled. 

"I thought you might, mesh'la." 

Bright felt like crying all over again, but now for an entirely different reason.

"I'm with you, Hunter. Now and forever," she whispered.

"Now who's the one who sounds like they're proposing?" He teased. Bright smacked his arm and Hunter's laughter rang out in the small hut regardless.

Before Bright could scold him, Hunter kissed her again. His hand slipped under her legs as the other flattened against her back, and Bright knew neither of them were going to get much sleep that night.

Hunter lifted her into his arms, and Bright diligently wrapped her arms around his neck to keep her balance.

"I think I need to make sure you know that I never want to leave you again."

[chiefdirector]

Noticing | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Act One | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

The walk to the interrogation room was short, (Y/N) followed Lopez, hot on her heels, as she tried to mentally prepare herself. Sure, Lopez would be taking the lead but (Y/N) always disliked interrogating suspects. It was too unpredictable and she had had enough unpredictability for a lifetime.

As they approached the door, (Y/N) held her hand up to stop Lopez for a moment. Quickly she whipped out her phone, shooting a quick text to Tim.

"You alright?" Lopez asked, looking for signs of hesitation on Bradford's face.

"Yeah, I just don't know how long we will be. He worries a lot still."

Angela just nodded, "I mean, can you blame him."

Instead of replying, (Y/N) moved to open the door for her and Lopez, closing it behind them as they entered the far to cold room. She held her breath to stop herself from shivering as she sat down on the metal chair.

On the opposite side of the table was a dark haired man, his grey hood covering most of his face. He looked down, refusing to acknowledge the two women. His clothes were nothing to marvel at, they weren't scruffy but were nowhere near neat, almost as if they had been scrunched on the ground after they had been washed.

His sleeves were pushed up his arms, revealing his tattoos. They were mostly dragons and other types of script work. There was, however, one tattoo that stood out from the rest.

It was a snake, wrapping in and out of his fingers and up his hand, connecting to the dragon on his wrist. It had aged somewhat, the delicate lines almost blurring together. The black in took up almost all of his hand, the only colour was the deep red eyes. (Y/N) could almost feel the thing looking at her, although she wouldn't have blamed it if it did because she was staring just as intently.

She had seen it before, not in the same placement, but it sure as hell was the same snake. It was the eyes that gave it away, it wasn't something she was likely to ever forget. It had seemed strange for a waiter in a high end restaurant to have such a tattoo on display, but maybe it wasn't just a tattoo, maybe it was a symbol of something more.

"What are you staring at, lady?" he grumbled at (Y/N), snapping her from her thoughts. "Something you like? Because I can show you a good time if you ask me nicely."

Angela rolled her eyes as (Y/N) spoke for the first time since they had entered the room. "Your tattoo... Mean anything?"

"Nothing that a pretty thing like you need to know."

"We are asking in a law enforcement capacity. Non-compliance can add to a sentence if you're charged. Now, does she need to ask again" Lopez said, redirecting the attention back to her, noticing that the other detective wasn't quite with it.

"It's a pact. Me and my brothers got them. Show loyalty."

Lopes scrawled down his words in her notepad. "And why a snake?"

"Wasn't my choice. I just got it." He leaned back in his chair, "Now are we done here, lady, because I've got places to be"

"Yes. You're free to go, but don't leave the city in case we have any more questions." Angela snapped her notebook shut before guiding the man out.

———

"What got into you then?"

(Y/N) didn't need to turn around to know it was Angela behind her. After spending so many years working with her friend, she had come to tell when she was near, and slightly annoyed. "I've seen that tattoo before."

Lopez finally caught up. "Is it like a gang one? Something to look out for?"

"I'm not sure," (Y/N) stopped in the corridor, lowering her voice slightly. "Look, I'm sure it's nothing. It's just when me and Tim went out the other night, the waiter had the same tattoo on his neck."

"Could it not just be two men with snake tattoos."

"Yes... no. Maybe." (Y/N) rocked back on her heels as she considered her answer. "It was the eyes that were the same. I didn't see the tattoo in whole, like I said. It's probably nothing. I'm just being paranoid."

"We'll tell Grey, get it into a report. Better safe than sorry." Angela held her hand out, gesturing for (Y/N) to walk alongside her to the Watch Commander's office.

(Y/N) looked down at her feet as she walked, a sad smile adoring her face. "Thanks Ange, it means a lot. But do you think you could do me a favour; don't tell Tim. There's nothing to know at the moment."

"Are you-" Lopez began to say, only to be cut off from a voice behind her.

"Don't tell Tim what?"

Both detectives turned around to be greeted by Tim, standing strong in his blue. His face was hardened , eyebrows raised in questions, and his arms crossed along his chest.

"About our super secret love affair, Timothy." Angela said, quickly making her exit. She had learnt long ago not to get caught between the two Bradford's, especially since they were both as stubborn as each other.

"Do I want to know?" He asked after a moment, moving forward to place a gentle arm on (Y/N)'s. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked to feel her, it was a reminder that she was here and she wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Nope!" (Y/N) just laughed again, knowing that it would annoy Tim somewhat. She knew that he didn't need to know all of her hunches but it didn't mean that she couldn't have some fun with it at the same time. "Although..."

"Although what?"

(Y/N) pulled back from her husband, taking a few steps as she turned back to him, shooting him a wink. "The dude we had in interrogation. Totally into me."

Before he could respond, (Y/N) had turned on her heel again, moving down the corridor. Leaving Tim no option but just to shake his head at her.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Chen asked, as she walked in from the direction (Y/N) had just left in.

"Sure boot. Let's go."

Chapter 17 | Chapter 19

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh  @kmc1989  @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @hufflepuffwhore13 @agentred27

Tags are open :)

[ravennaortiz]

Summary: After recently rekindling your love for one another the two of you navigate a surprise. This takes place after The One.

TW: child death, high risk pregnancy, brief mention/implication of termination.

Tag List: @darqchilddaydreamz

Gilly was sitting at a table in the clubhouse laughing and playing cards with Coco and Angel when you walked in. One look at your red rimmed eyes and mascara streaked face had his smile wiped completely off his face. It never failed to amaze you how fast the bear of a man moved. He had you in his arms quicker than your brain could process anything.

"Are you hurt? What is wrong?" demanded Gilly in hushed whispers as he held you tightly to him. You shook as the tears started to cascade down your raw cheeks again. You never imagined this moment to be anything but happiness, butterfly and rainbows, but life had already played a cruel trick on you once before. Every time you moved your mouth to speak only a strangled sob escaped.

"Here sit" offered Angel as he pulled a chair over to where the two of you stood. Gilly nodded his thanks as he eased you gently into the chair as he knelt in front of it too look at you. Gently he lifted your chin so that your eyes met his worried ones. Glancing over his shoulder you could see the rest of the club was watching. Ready to go to battle if Gilly gave the signal.

Digging in your pocket you pulled out a box. Gilly watched you and his eyes caught on the word pregnancy and his heart faltered before looking back to your face. When you simply nodded he let out a shaky breath as he worked to get anything to come out of his mouth. "I love you. We will figure this out" he finally stated gently but firmly as he buried his face in your lap.

He couldn't believe he had put you in this position. He should have been more careful. He knew the risk of pregnancy for you was life threatening. How could he be so stupid he thought to himself as he held you tighter. He couldn't lose you. Not after he had just gotten you back.

A few days later the two of you sat holding hands while you processed what the doctor had told you. You felt so overwhelmed and scared as you tried not to dissolve into a puddle of panic on the floor.

The news was as expected. You would be extremely high risk given your history. Not to mention the damage done to your heart with your first pregnancy with your precious Sofia gave you the potential to drop dead at any time. Even if you made it through the pregnancy, labor would be the next issue. You would have to have a C-section, the doctor wouldn't want to risk the strain of a long labor and delivery.

If you were being honest your worries were less about if you survived and more if your child would. Could you stomach another devastating loss? Could you live with yourself if this child died? Would you be selfish to continue on? If you terminated this pregnancy you were denying the man next to you a chance at a child. What if he didn't want to be with you anymore? You felt like you were losing someone no matter what choice you made.

"Mi Corazon. Whatever you want. I will support no matter what. I'm not going anywhere ever again." stated Gilly as he squeezed your hand. He could feel and see the storm brewing in your mind. You were such a sweet and loving soul and he knew this was weighing heavily on you. He couldn't deny he would love another chance at building a family with you. If that meant you wouldn't survive though he could live without it because he knew he could never live without you.

"I would like to try Gilly" you whispered as tears welled in your eyes as you turned to face him. "I love you so much. I'm scared but I feel this is the right thing to do.

Gilly swallowed hard as he nodded. "I love you too. We will be scared together then" he replied trying to be light hearted but you could see through it.

***

"Morning Mama Kay." stated Gilly as he knelt next to your mothers tombstone with his weekly flower bouquet. He was silent for several minutes as he set to cleaning up the gravesite.

"I don't know what to say. The last few months have been a blur. I know you are watching over us though. Keeping your arms wrapped tightly around your baby girl." started Gilly as he felt tears pool in his eyes.

"I'm always amazed at how easily she accepts challenges head on. She is so damn brave and I can't get over how lucky I am. I haven't told her yet but I'm still terrified I'm going to wake up one morning and find her dead. Get a call and be told she has died." sobbed Gilly as he cried openly.

"I know that isn't the way to live. I'm trying to keep it together because I don't wanna add any stress to her. You raised a true solider Mama Kay, but I know you know that" stated Gilly with a small chuckle as a breeze whipped around him.

"We decided to wait until birth to find out the sex. I am secretly hoping its a sweet little girl though between us. I'll be happy of course if its a boy, but the world deserves more women like you and your daughter in it" he added before wiping his eyes and leaning forward to kiss the gravestone. After a couple minutes he got up and made his way back to his bike too head back home.

***

"What's happening?" demanded Gilly as his heart pounded in his chest as he heard machines start to alarm. The grip of of your hand in his released as he watched your eyes flutter closed. "Dad. We're going to have you step out okay?" comforted a nurse as she escorted him from you as he watched the doctor give orders. Tears sprung to his eyes as he let the nurse pull him out of the OR. He dropped to his knees and prayed in the hall as people bustled in and out. The cry of your new born baby couldn't even bring comfort to his aching heart.

***

Gilly knelt next to the tiny bear tombstone like he had been doing every week since he had found out about his sweet Sofia. The little angel he never got to know. "Good morning my sweet angel" he murmured as he tidied up the gravesite. "Your momma is doing well. Shes sorry she couldn't make it." continued Gilly as he smiled softly. "But I brought your little sister today." he added as he picked up his newborn from her car seat. "She's named after you and your grandmother. "Katiana this is your big sister Sofiana. She is your guardian angel and will always look after you." murmured Gilly as he rocked Katiana in his arms as he knelt in the grass.

Gilly sat in silence as he considered how truly blessed he was to have you. That your mama had helped him and brought you two back together. That you had given him to beautiful little girls. One an angel up above and the other an angel walking earth. He closed his eyes as he felt the gentle child like hand on his face. He smiled as he heard the baby coo and giggle at something he could not see. Lucky. He was lucky he thought.

Return to Series Masterlist

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

Evermore: Part. 2: Chapter. Three

Hello everyone! I hope all is well with everyone and that everyone is having a good week so far. Work is work, and I love it!

2 Months Later

Andy pulled up to the base, flashed his ID to the guard, drove right through, and was still driving his best friend's truck. As he drove, he looked down and smiled.

When he came home from his morning run, he saw a note on the table indicating that you had made him coffee and packed lunch so he wouldn't have to grab food. Since living alone, he has been used to not cooking for himself and just eating out. He only knows how to cook instant noodles, Rice, and Eggs. Now that he’s back home, just having something like this made him happy, especially since it came from you.

Once Andy parked at his designated spot, he got out, grabbed his things, and headed into the law offices. Saluting some people on his way, he walked into the building and was greeted by his secretary. She stood up quickly, and before she could say anything, Andy opened the door and was greeted by a man sitting on the opposite side of his desk.

The man turned around, and Andy immediately recognized him. He turned back to his secretary and signaled that it was okay, and she closed the door.

“Major Navon, what brings you here?” Andy asked, taking a seat at his desk.

“Well, General Barber. I’m not quite sure.” Sam said, placing the thick concealed file in front of Andy. He frowned and glanced back at Sam.

“What’s this?” Andy asked. Sam sighed and wiped his face.

“Look, I know it’s been five years since your friend's death, but something came up, and I didn’t have a choice but to dig up his files.”

“What do you mean? Ari died in a Humvee accident.” Andy asked, knowing for sure that’s what happened.

“Just recently, more like a month ago, there’s been talk about that incident. So I asked one of the lawyers and the MPs.” Sam paused and leaned forward.

“Someone has been messing with the reports. Ari Levinson and part of the platoon in the car were murdered.” Sam said. 

Andy stared at Sam for a moment, almost wanting to laugh. But Sam was serious, and he quickly dismissed that thought.

“Sam, I don’t. This can’t be true, Sam.” Andy said, trying to process the information.

“Okay, but we both know the explosion that happened, right?” Andy added.

“Yes, that is correct. The Humvee exploded, and the driver lost control. That’s what his files say.” Sam said as Andy opened the confidential documents. 

Andy read through the files, and seeing Ari for the first time tore his heart away. Seeing the gruesome way he passed hurt him. Andy closed the file and looked over to Sam.

“I have to look this over with my team. I assume you want me to take this case?” Andy asked. 

Sam sighed and crossed his legs over, “Yes, nobody wants to take it. They all assume it’s a complete accident, and there is concrete evidence. And knowing you and your reputation? You can get this done.” 

Andy thought for a moment and leaned back into his chair. “Only on one condition.”

“Anything,” Sam responded. 

Andy sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Y/N cannot l know about this until I get enough evidence.”

Sam sat up, and the same with Andy. Sam then held out his hand, and Andy took it.

“A deal. If you have any questions-“

“I got it, Sam. I'll have my team come as soon as possible,” Andy said. 

And with that, Sam left. The moment the door closed, Andy sat down and leaned back into his chair. He sat there for a moment and then reached for his office phone.

Yes sir?

Hi Margie, I need you to gather the team and get them to Bedford as soon as possible.

Was there a reason, sir?

I have a high-profile case that is a high priority.

Okay, and was there anything else, sir?

Yes, give any case that I have to the Jr’s. I need my full attention on this one.

And with that, Andy hung up and went to work.

**

After a long day, Andy found himself driving home. You had called him earlier to say there was dinner at the house, and Jake was home, too. That put a sour taste in his mouth. He shouldn’t be jealous or upset. You deserve to be happy, but there is something about the man that he doesn’t like. By the time Andy had arrived, Jake’s car was in the driveway. Andy parked Ari’s truck next to Jake’s.

As he entered, he could hear conversation and soft responses from Chloe, and Andy sighed.

“Hey, Bug!” Andy called out, putting his bag down. The sound of the chair moving and little feet were heard.

“Uncle DeeDee!” Chloe yelled as she ran towards him, and he picked her up.

“Hi, Chloe. Did you have a good day?” Andy asked. 

Chloe wiped her hair away from her face and smiled. 

“We played in the park, and I did many pictures!” Chloe said with excitement.

“She indeed had a good day.” Andy heard that beautiful voice. He looked to the kitchen entranceway, only to see you and that bastard. Andy smiled and headed over to you.

Jake was about to shake his hand when he noticed the pin on his jacket. Jake raised his hand and gave him a salute.

“General,” Jake said. Andy gave a half smile and saluted him back. You rolled your eyes, and Chloe laughed.

“Anyway, Andy, you must be hungry. Have a seat, and I’ll make you a plate. It’s linguine and fettuccine Sauce, with a salad and bread.” You said, turning around and towards the kitchen. Andy placed Chloe down, and she ran to her seat, taking him with her. Once he was down at his seat, Jake sat before Andy. It was quiet for a moment.

“I hear that you and Y/N have been friends since she was five,” Jake said. Andy nodded. That is true, along with my best friend.”

Before Jake could respond, Chloe was by Andy’s side, tapping him on his arm. He looked to his side and saw she had a cold brown bottle.

“Uncle DeeDee, here’s your drink!” Chloe said. 

Andy smiled and took the cold beverage from her. “Thank you!”

**

After dinner, Chloe was sitting on the couch watching TV, and your phone rang while you were cleaning the kitchen. Andy was in the bathroom, washing his hands. You looked all over the kitchen for it until you realized that it was in your bag.

“Jake, can you get my phone? It’s in my bag in the living room.” You said. 

Jake nodded and headed to the living room. As he got to the table, Jake opened the bag, and a thick folder came out. Jake frowned and opened the file.

Ari Steven Levinson

Deceased

US ARMY CAPTAIN, 501st AIRBORNE DIVISION

Jake’s whole body drained of blood, and his body started shaking.

KILLED IN ACTION. A CAR EXPLODED IN FRONT OF HIS JEEP, CAUSING HIS DRIVER TO LOSE CONTROL AND SLAM INTO A BUILDING.

“That’s my bag.” 

Jake heard and turned around to see Andy standing behind him. Andy showed no expression as he snatched the file from him and placed it back into his bag. Then Andy grabbed Y/N’s bag and shoved it against Jake’s chest. He looked at Andy and quickly went back to the kitchen. Andy placed the file into his bag and closed the clasp on it. Before he headed back into the kitchen, Jake walked past him, and you followed behind.

“Is there something wrong?” Andy heard Y/N, and Jake sighed.

“I got a random important call from my major. I don’t know what it is, but it seems urgent,” Jake said, and Andy turned slightly. He knew listening was rude, but he couldn’t help it. The way Jake acted, and his body language told him he was lying.

For as long as he’s been a lawyer and the fact he’s damn good at it, he knows when someone is lying. And Jake is one of them.

The front door opened and closed. Andy then turned around to see you stumped.

“What happened?” Andy asked, placing his hands into his pockets. You sighed and shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know. He went to get my bag, and when he returned, Jake looked like he had seen a ghost,” you said. 

Andy looked at you for a moment. “Are you worried? You look concerned.”

You sighed again and shook your head. Before Andy responded, Chloe came in and hugged her mom’s leg. The two of you knew that it was her bedtime. You then picked her up and placed her on your hip.

“Sleepy bug?” You asked. 

Holding onto her Pua, she nodded and laid her head on your shoulder.

“Okay, say good night to Uncle DeeDee.” You said. Chloe lifted her head and held out her arms towards him. Andy then scooped her up and placed her onto his hip.

“Good night, Bug! Sleep tight and-“ Andy started.

“And no, let the scarwy monsters eat me!” Chloe said, giggling. Andy kissed her cheek and placed her down. Chloe ran to her mom and brought her upstairs.

“I’ll finish cleaning up here,” Andy said as he returned to the kitchen.

“I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.” You said.

**

30 Minutes Later

Andy sat in the family room with two glasses of Sweet Pinot Grigio. He looked behind him to see you taking a seat next to him. You smiled while picking up the glass.

“Before we start the movie, tomorrow is Saturday, Andy. Do you have any plans?” You asked. 

Andy knew why Saturdays were important. Even when he was deployed in Germany, you would video call him and spend a few moments with his best friend.

“I’m free. What time do you want to leave? I’ll drive. I was also thinking of spending the day there, too.” Andy said.

You smiled once more. “Oh, that’s a good idea. Let’s have a picnic at the beach, and Chloe wants me to teach her how to skate.”

Andy laughed as a memory came to him. “You remember when Ari tried to teach you?”

Your face started to blush, which made Andy laugh even more.

“Yeah, and that ended up being our first kiss.” You said.

[jellyfishsthings]

Warnings: this is going to be a multi part series and it's going to be angsty cause I am in my feels. Female reader, Padmé and Anakin were together but had a healthy break up, Jedi reader so forbidden love

This story takes plays in Clone Wars yet many events have been changed (like the meeting of Ashoka and Anakin... don't worry the sibling energy is still there.)

series masterlist

The meeting ended way faster than it was planned due to… you guessed it, a surprise attack. Both me and Anakin fought with great intensity and when it was over, we had won every Senator over. Our job was done. And so after bidding goodbye, we headed towards our ship. Anakin sat in the driving compartment ready to pilot the ship back to the Temple and I joined him.

A comfortable silence enveloped us, safety and protection radiated from him and sooner than later I felt myself slip into a much-needed slumber.

A set of plain dark grey doors stood tall before me, and as I reached to open them my hand came short several centimetres under the handles. A tall black man called Windu stood beside me, silently assessing me. I stood on my tiptoes and opened the doors. Several pairs of eyes turned towards me and I felt myself shrink back. Master Windu placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a slight push while whispering "It will be alright".

My feet carried me to the buffet of the cafeteria and my mouth watered at the sight of the plethora of food. I wasn't used to it and my stomach growled as the minutes flew by. In the end, I chose rice with some chicken because I knew that even though I could eat anything on the table my stomach wouldn't be able to handle more than that. I headed towards the far side of the room, where next to no one was sitting.

A blond boy suddenly appears in front of me, startling me. He has a kind face, that is framed by shortcutted hair and a small braid, a padawan. He smiles at me as he examines me.

"Hi, I am Anakin. You can join me and the rest of the padawans if you want to."

"No thank you."

"Are you shy? Or just really stuck up? Because there is this girl Jade…" He says maliciously. "Well let's just say that no one likes Jade."

I snort a small chuckle and he laughs at me.

"Is it okay if I come and sit with you?"

"Sure," I said back to him.

He simply rushes back to his table and grabs his lunch before coming back to the table. He lets his tray down with a thud and he beams at me with a toothy smile, some of his teeth are missing, as he sits down. He must be older than me by a year or so or two.

"I see you chose the chicken. Good choice but it is a bit like a tyre you know, probably overcooked. You should try the roasted beef next time. It is simply great."

The ship rocks side to side being caught in a star storm, a hushed curse sounds as I shift my position trying to get comfortable.

My body is covered in sweat and I pant like crazy. My sides burn like there is no tomorrow.

"Again?" Anakin asks with a smirk.

"I hate you"

"Oh come on, trouble. I am sure you will beat me next time."

I roll my eyes at the nickname. You crash five fighter jets and set only two fires and suddenly you are a pariah. Anakin was the only one who defended me because somehow he had figured out that I wanted to go home or to what was left of it. He stopped me at the last minute and he crashed three out of the five jets.

Training with Anakin late at night when the whole Temple rested. When the nightmares started nothing could calm me down. The sleepless nights started to catch up with me, and the dark circles that adorned my eyes were prominent. After a while, he suggested joining me when trying to fall asleep like we used to do when we were little. And for a time it worked and then they got worse. He believed they were just nightmares but they were memories of the abuse and the destruction.

Then Master Obi-Wan said that we had both fallen back on our training and that we should be focused only on that. That was our priority. And so one late night in the training room turned to hundred and to thousand. We would fight to the brink of exhaustion and then we would turn off like lights.

In the meantime, we have both grown. My body started to turn more feminine, and curves showed up, attracting creepy stares from the boys and glares from the girls. Anakin on the other side gained a lot of height, surpassing me by a full head. His once lean body slowly became more muscular, and his shoulders were broadened.

I examined him as we both tried to gain our breath.

As he was still trying to calm down, I lunged at him. Raising my lightsabers, trying to disarm me. His quick reflexes were his saviour. Our sabers clashed as we attacked and defended ourselves. It was like a dance, a brutal one and we matched each other. No one could know for how long we stayed there until he missed a step and went down like a sack of potatoes.

"That … was not … fair. I was caught off guard." He says breathlessly.

"Say that… to your enemy… next time." I say to him smirking and I grab his outstretched arm, pulling him up.

"I miss the days when I did all the talking. You were less mean." He says with a pout and I laugh at him. Little did I know that would be the last time I would see him for six months.

I feel someone move me from my sitting position and being laid down on the reclined chair. A light duvet covers my body. His familiar scent fills my nostrils and drifts me back to sleep.

Master Windu watches me from the top of the stadium and his encouragement comes to me in waves through the Force. Today I gained my knighthood. And after all of the struggles and challenges, this moment of that day is not my favourite.

I found myself unable to sleep so I took a walk through the Temple. I tried to meditate. Still, I feel on edge, some would say that it is because of my achievement of becoming a Jedi Knight. I wander in the aircraft zone, his favourite place. I need to feel close to him, now more than ever. A few months ago he left for the war front with some other padawans and Jedis, for some reason, I was not approved to follow. At least not yet.

I see a craft landing and I hide behind a pillar, holding tightly one of my lightsabers in my hand, ready to attack.

A deep voice sounds. "I already told you, Master. I didn't not hint that-"

"That is the problem with you you never think." A familiar voice said. Obi-Wan's voice sounds tired and full of panic. "You could have been killed."

"Don't say that Master. I didn't do anything wrong." The deep voice says mischievously, his voice laced with mirth.

"Oh really. Well, I guess there is nothing wrong with jumping off of jets, and completely trusting your life on a droid, no offence Artoo, or challenging your opponents. You are being reckless."

I slowly pull myself out from my hiding space trying to get a better look at the two approaching figures. Obi-Wan is the same, only his robes are more tattered and he looks bone tired as he moves at the pace of a sloth.

The figure next to him wears dark clothes blending in the dark night sky. Yet I am able to make him out. His blond hair has grown from his short spiky haircut. He seems even taller and his body more muscular than it was. It fits snuggly against his armour. Ani, he is here, he is back.

Without a second thought, I sprint towards him and jump on top of him. He staggers back by the force of the sudden impact. His arms shoot out to catch me as he gains his footing.

"Hey, trouble. I missed you." He whispers into the skin of my neck as he buries his head in the crook of my neck, breathing me in. His arms tighten around me and I wrap my legs around his waist. He is solid, covered in hard muscle and almost double in size. His voice is several octaves lower than it used to be. Everything about him makes my stomach roll and coil into a knot. That's when it all started. Since then I could not pull my eyes from him. Since then I could not stop thinking and fantasizing about him.

I am woken up by the rumble of the edges shutting down. I blink the sleepiness away and pull myself up ready to head towards my room. A hand grabs mine, stopping me on the spot.

"You look beautiful, you know. You should wear dresses more often." He says as he looks at me with a loving gaze. I blush harshly as he walks away, only turning his gaze back to me to say "Goodnight, trouble."

My eyesight finds the first reflective surface and I take a long look at my appearance. My hair had fallen from the messy curled bun Padmé had somehow made at the top of my head. The dress truly compliments my figure, making every curve stand out, daunting every man to take a look. Yet my strong arms stand out, in contrast to the soft aspects of my body making me look like a true fighter. Making me look like a Greek goddess.

words: 1.622

[lazybutsmexy]

Infused

Alejandro Vargas x f!reader (Avispa)

Masterlist Prologue Ch.1

Chapter 2: Mate amargo: Indiference

Warnings: none

A/N: another update so soon?! Don't get used to that.

Sargento Mayor Rodolfo Parra watched pensively at Alejandro as he recounted his meeting with Avispa. The Colonel was incensed, gesturing wildly with his hands as he paced around the barrack they shared when they had no time to go home and rest.

Alejandro had very strong opinions about the woman, although he kept himself from calling her vile names. Even in his fury, he had his limits. Besides, his catholic mother would never forgive him for talking ill of a woman, no matter how frustrating she was.

Rodolfo noted that and kept it at the back of his head, while he listened to his childhood friend turned superior vent about Avispa. He kept quiet for most of the interaction, besides humming and assenting to show Alejandro he was paying attention as he unfastened his boots.

Alejandro had a lot to say, even after they were both laying down on their cots, looking at the ceiling. Whenever Rodolfo thought he was done, Alejandro would break the silence with another remark.

“As if I'd let a fucking killer for hire use the Fuerzas Especiales as a crutch to complete her assassination job,” Alejandro grumbled mostly to himself, but loud enough for Rodolfo to hear.

“So, you wouldn't even consider it?” Rodolfo sighed, the only sentence he uttered since they entered the barrack.

Alejandro sat up on his cot, glaring at his friend in disbelief, “would you, pendejo?!”

Rodolfo simply snorted a laugh, having expected that reaction from him. “It wouldn't be the first time we've worked with PMC’s or contractors from other countries. It's kind of part of the job, Ale.” He stretched over his cot, groaning softly as he relaxed. “You mentioned she had a Southern Latin American accent, didn’t you? She’s probably a part of that group…” He trailed off, remembering an old report on the Amazonas.

“It's not the same thing, those collaborations were approved by legal organizations, like the CIA,” Alejandro sighed, rolling his eyes, “she's not. What if she makes shit hit the fan, eh? Who could we report that to?”

“I hear you on that, hermano,” Rodolfo sighed, turning to his side to look at Alejandro sleepily, “on the fact that no legal responsibility will tie her or restrain her actions. However, since she’s trying to collaborate with us, it means she also won't have anyone come help her if shit hits the fan. If she fucks up, we could just drop her to the wolves, pretend we never worked together, and fix it.”

Alejandro stared at his friend, his frown softening just a fraction as his words echoed in his head. He watched Rudy yawn and fix a blanket over himself, and laid himself back down. He stared at the ceiling in silence, reflecting on his options.

Rodolfo was right. Los Vaqueros were the only insurance that Avispa would even survive squaring up to el Sin Nombre, and they could deny her support if he so wanted it. He spent another half an hour weighing on the pros and cons of allowing her in their circle, and the thought of having the choice of backing out made him think more about the positive outcome it could bring.

“... Maybe.” He spoke in the quietness, Rodolfo’s soft snores the only reply he got.

Bar Marcela was once again the chosen venue for the meeting, but this time Alejandro got there first. He had sent Ricardo a coded message to set up another meeting with Avispa, and now he only had to wait. He nibbled on his nachos without hurry, making sure he tasted them thoroughly to compensate for the last time. He could practically feel Marcela’s eyes on him, even though she was in the backroom at the moment.

Avispa met his eyes the moment she walked in, and her quiet steps led her straight to his table. She sat down wearing a knowing smile on her face, and it ticked Alejandro to see it.

“I knew you would reconsider it, Coronel,” was her greeting, helping herself to one of his nachos. She ate it and hummed at the taste, while Alejandro’s glare was fixed on her. “What are your conditions?”

“You turn in every information you gather to us, no matter how small it may be, before you act out on it,” he began, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll facilitate a quarter at my base so you can lay down and lick your wounds if needed, but I won’t insure your safety out of it.”

Avispa watched him thoughtfully. Of course, she always knew she wouldn’t depend on him or the Special Forces to keep her safe from the cartel. There was no way in hell a legal, government-backed military would publicly endorse her.

However, she was a big girl, and this wasn’t su primer jineteada. She was confident she could take care of herself.

“Muy bien,” Avispa agreed with a small grin, offering him her hand to shake it off.

Alejandro didn’t take it. Instead, he stood from his seat, staring down at her as he handed her a scribbled piece of paper. “Go to this address tomorrow, be ready to move into my base.”

He wasn’t particularly happy to take her in, and his face showed it. Despite this, he had preemptively chosen a private room in a corner of the barracks. Long ago, it was used by drill sergeants to watch over the recruits. But after the transformation into the base of operations of the Special Forces, it had been modified to house soldiers with disciplinary issues, and hidden cameras had been installed. It would be perfect to keep an eye on her movements in and out of the barracks. Of course, that information wouldn't be passed down to her.

At 0900 hours sharp, Avispa walked into the Vaqueros’ base of operations. Her eyes darted around as a guard led her to the women's barracks, partially to create a mental map of the installations, but also to admire the sheer size of them.

She could spot a few soldiers looking at her through the windows and she wondered how many others were not in her line of sight. She knew it was a tactical decision, to make her know she would be constantly under surveillance. That thought followed her as she entered her private quarters.

Her eyes studied her provisional accommodation, moreso trying to locate hidden cameras than checking out the bland bedding and the too-small window that looked out into the internal patio. Resigned to not being able to pinpoint the surveillance, she put down her duffel bag on the bed and opened it, pulling out a change of clothes and a smaller backpack.

As she's about to take her t-shirt off, she looked over her back, raising an eyebrow at the guard whose eyes were still fixed on her. “...May a señorita have some privacy?” She questioned, her voice almost sickly sweet.

The guard stared at her for just a moment longer before stepping back, although Avispa predicted he would only be one or two feet away from the door. She rolled her eyes, changing into a pair of jeans and a breezy top.

It was only moments later that Alejandro walked in, knocking twice on the door frame to announce himself. “How's your suite, princesa?” He greeted her in a teasing tone.

“Like a dream, Coronel,” Avispa matched his tone, flipping down on the cot and taking her tablet, scrolling through it, “good job hiding the cameras, I couldn't find them.”

Alejandro snorted, a sneer stretching his lips. Of course she would be smarter than to assume he wouldn't have an eye on her at all times. “Breakfast is at 0630, lunch is at 1400, dinner at 2100.”

She nodded at the information, glancing at her watch before sitting up and tilting her head a little. “I suppose I can get hot water at the kitchen any time of the day, right?”

Alejandro blinked at her and nodded slowly, slightly intrigued at her reason to require it. “Fancy a coffee, then?”

Avispa grinned and shook her head, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and sliding her chanclas on, before pulling out a thermos from her duffel bag. “No, mate.”

The bitter taste of the yerba was thoroughly enjoyed as she slipped on the metallic straw. It had been a few days since she had been able to lower her guard enough to give herself time to enjoy a good mate. The beverage woke her up more effectively than a cup of coffee, and she took her sweet time browsing through her tablet as she drank it.

She scribbled down some words on a notepad, and later laid down on the cot, staring at the ceiling. That's all they could see in the footage. They saw no signs of her trying to install boobytraps, or hiding weapons, or anything else. Just a woman by herself, watching the time pass.

It all changed about an hour before dinner, when she took her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She followed her mental map of the base expertly, tracing her steps back to the entrance and walking out, not a word heard from her lips to the guards who questioned her where she was going, or when she would return.

A/N: the worst crime commited by the COD fandom was to forget how unhinged Rudy can be.

Taglist

@warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring @wolfyland07

[mrsstarkey1]

sick day - jj maybank

summary: JJ takes care of you when you’re sick

word count: 0.9k

warnings: none

You'd been laying on the couch for hours, removing your blankets and pulling them back over you every two minutes. Your head was pounding, your nose was stuffed up, your whole body ached, and it exhausted you to even open your eyes at this point.

In the middle of what felt like your millionth coughing fit, you heard your front door open and close, "y/n, are you here?" a voice called from the other side of the house, and you immediately recognized the voice as JJ's.

"In the living room," you called out as loud as you could, your voice low and raspy.

JJ looked at you with a frown, curled up on the couch, tissues all over you and the coffee table. Your hair was all over the place, unwashed and tangled. You looked absolutely miserable.

"Baby why didn't you call me?" he sat on the edge of the couch by your stomach and placed his hand on your forehead, checking for signs of a fever. "Y/n, you're burning up," he said, concern laced heavily in his voice.

"I didn't want to worry you," you said, sitting up as much as you physically could. "I'm fine, JJ, " you said with a forced smile.

He tilted his head, giving you a look. You both knew now that he was here, he wouldn't leave until you felt better, "have you eaten anything?"

You shook your head and he stood up quickly, “does soup sound good? Maybe some crackers too?”

You nodded, giving him a real smile this time, “sounds perfect.”

JJ came back a couple minutes later, worried look still plastered on his face. “Want me to turn on the TV?” he offered, searching for any way to make you feel better.

You nodded weakly, “sure. Vampire Diaries?” you suggested with a small smile.

JJ chuckled, picking up the remote, “always.”

JJ pressed play on episode one and pressed a short kiss to your head, “I’ll be right back with your soup, baby.”

Only a few minutes later, he brought the soup to you on a tray, setting it down on your lap carefully. You sat up and your whole body ached from the movement. You hated feeling like this; so sick and helpless. You had to admit though, JJ being at your beck and call wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“Thank you, JJ,” you said with a grateful smile, bringing the spoon-full of soup up to your lips.

As you ate your soup, JJ grabbed a trash bag and silently picked up all the dirty tissues. You smiled to yourself as you watched him. He grabbed you a new blanket, and put the other one in the wash along with the basket of dirty clothes that was in your room. "You didn't have to do that," you told him as he exited your laundry room.

"I wanted to," he said sincerely.

After he’d cleaned up your space and done what he could to make your life easier, he sat down on the floor with his back against the couch.

You frowned at his choice of seating, “there’s room on the couch, you know,” you said, an asking tone in your voice.

JJ turned back toward you and grinned, “I didn’t know if you’d want me all up in your space.”

You gave him a look and held out your arms to him, "do you know me? Come here." JJ obliged immediately, positioning himself behind you, arms wrapping around you comfortably.

You stayed in the same position for hours, watching Vampire Diaries when your eyes were open. Your head began to hurt after staring at the TV so long, and you turned yourself around to face JJ. “You okay?” he asked worriedly, eyes scanning your face, mere inches from his.

“Mhm, just tired,” you mumbled, shifting in his arms to get comfortable. You rested your head against his chest, eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you, JJ. For being here for me,” you said into his shirt, squeezing him tightly.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “no where else I’d dream of being. I just hate seeing you feel bad,” he said softly, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice.

"You being here has improved my health already," you said, leaning up to kiss his jaw instead of his lips, not wanting to get him sick.

You spent the rest of the day with JJ cuddled on the couch, feeling better with every passing minute.

The night came quickly, and you had been drifting in and out of sleep for hours already. “You should sleep in your bed, baby,” JJ spoke softly in your ear, rubbing your back.

You nodded against his chest, pushing yourself up off the couch with every ounce of strength you had. JJ helped you up, wrapping an arm around your waist for support. He took you upstairs and put you in your bed carefully, pulling the covers over you. He flipped your lights off before climbing into bed with you. You wrapped your arms around him instantly, burying your head into his neck.

"Thank you for today. Don’t know what I’d do without you,” you mumbled into JJ’s skin after a couple moments.

He ran his fingers up and down your arm mindlessly, “good thing you’ll never have to find out,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

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You owe me at least three days of rest in the infirmary - Solangelo

Masterlists

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

Pairing: Nico di Angelo x Will Solace

Warnings: nightmares, think that's it

Word count: 1233

Summary: The three says in the infirmary with some change.

SEVEN | NICO

- I like being alone 

but I hate being lonely -

Nico woke up in the infirmary in the worst way possible. The 4 hours of sleep he'd gotten had been filled with nightmares and flashbacks of the worst parts of his life. The walls of Tartarus and all of the things that had bruised him down there, both physically and mentally. The claustrophobic walls of being locked up in the jar, Persephone turning him into a dandelion. The last memory of Bianca flashing in front of his eyes, Percy coming back with the statue of Hades, telling him how his sister was gone. The soft eyes of Maria di Angelo looking down at him as they walked through Venice. Camping with Minos along the river Styx and Cupid manipulating him in his cave with Jason. He still hadn't told anyone about that. Jason and himself were the only ones who knew what really happened there.

With gasp Nico sat up straight in the hospital bed. Cold sweat was running down his face and his hair was damp and messy. A few tears ran down his cheeks and he furiously whipped them away with the back of his hand. His breathing was uneven and his throat felt sore. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump and Will immediately took it away, looking a bit offended. He offered Nico a glass water which he gladly took and gulped down the cold, calming liquid. Definitely better than liquid fire from the River Phlegethon. He mumbled a weak 'thank you' as Will softly took the empty glass from Nico's hand. The soft thud from the glass made him jump again. Everything felt off. Nico was more tense than usual and he was easily frightened which he definitely usually wasn't.

"You okay, Nico?" Will asked and squatted down beside the bed, resting his arms on top of the mattress. Will's eyes were worried when they met Nico's and judging by the worry in his voice and the wrinkles between his furrowed eyebrows the son of Apollo was very worried.

"I'm fine, Will," Nico snapped at him and turned away. The dark hair hiding his glossy eyes.

"I can see that you're not. You can talk to me, Nico," Will said softly, reaching out to push away the dark hair from Nico's face but he moved out of the way. Will let his hand fall and Nico could sense the disappointment and worry in the air.

"Please... Just, just leave me alone," he stuttered and turned away from Will. He was still wearing Will's too big clothes but Nico didn't have much of a choice. They were comforting and still reminding him that Will wanted to help even if Nico wouldn't let him. The soft material smelled sunshine just like Will and as Nico breathed in the sent he calmed down. The thought of Will's sent calming him down irritated him but couldn't help but feeling a bit graceful for his kind gestures.

"Okay... Tell me if you need anything," Will answered quietly and then he stood up from the floor and walked over to his desk again, leaving Nico to himself. Nico looked up, shocked that he'd done as he asked. Will was stubborn and Nico was shocked that he'd left without so much of one single argument. He shook it off. Nico reached for the glass again only to realize it was already empty. His head was full of things and it made him lose concentration on every little thing and that annoyed him. He was always on point, ready for everything and anything. Now he couldn't even remember how he'd swept down his water just minutes earlier. Nico placed the glass on the table again and when he looked over he saw the drawing of Bianca lying there. Will had given it to him at 5 am and it was the most beautiful drawing Nico's ever seen.

He was thankful for it and would probably even ask Annabeth for a frame for it later, when he got out of here. This was his last day and Will had promised to let him go in the afternoon at 6 pm. Now the clock was standing at almost 9 am so he still had a few hours left here.

"You want anything to eat, di Angelo?" Will asked. He was standing in the door, resting against the doorframe. The sun shone behind him, making him look like he was glowing himself. Nico couldn't say something, his eyes stuck on the son of Apollo. He managed to look away and a faint blush came to his cheeks.

"It would be nice with some fruit or pasta," he mumbled. Will nodded and walked out, leaving Nico alone in the infirmary. The silence gave him time to think clearly again. He'd pushed Will away again. The trust, friendliness and care was okay but when things like this happened, when his past haunted him in his dreams. He couldn't lean on Will with all that. He'd gone through Tartarus alone; he could manage through this alone too.

The sound of the door opening made him cut his thought and meet the gaze of Will Solace. He had brought a plate of pasta and a bowl of fruit to the infirmary. Nico smiled softly. Will placed it all on a small table and placed it beside Nico's bed. Out of habit, Nico jumped back a little to make place for Will on his bed. They'd eaten every meal like this, in Nico's bed facing each other. And Nico enjoyed it. Having this little thing with Will they always seemed to do. Will looked shocked at the gesture though. Nico had pushed him away, not even meeting his eyes honestly. Now he wanted Will to accompany him while they ate. But he still smiled at the gesture and placed himself on the end of Nico's bed.

"Sorry," Nico started and looked down. "I didn't mean to push you away but... it seemed easier that way. To not let you in and have you deal with all the stuff that runs my mind. It's not very pretty, if I do say so."

Will softened and reached out to take Nico's hand in his and this time he didn't pull away. He didn't know why but it felt right.

"It's okay Nico, I understand, I get it. But I want to help you. I want you to know that I'm here for you. No matter what it's about, I'm here. You can talk to me or not talk to me, that's up to you. But I'm here," the blond boy smiled softly and Nico felt a bit more at ease in his chest. The anxiety from his dreams was still there but it seemed to lighten up at Will's words. Once again he had to thank the boy in front of him. He pulled a hand through his dark curls.

"Thank you, Will," Nico pulled his hand from Will's but kept a small smile on his lips. He reached for the pasta Will had brought him and stuck a fork in it. Will shook his head at Nico but smiled with him. The tension in the room eased and Nico seemed quite happy with himself. Another thing to thank Will for, he thought and put the pasta in his mouth with a smile.