#mama's shred all the hearts challenge

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Charming Her Dad

Part 11 of Sometimes All You Need (A Getaway Car)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Jake Seresin's faced the worst things a man has ever had to face, both in and out of a jet. But staring up at the glossy wooden doors of Gorgeous's childhood home, he's sure he's never faced anything scarier. How's he going to convince her dad that he's the man his daughter deserves?

Disclaimers: Smut

Warnings: Female Reader

Word Count: 4439

Author Note: So for Chapter 11 I decided to venture into yet another perspective that I've never written before - Jake's. His voice was surprisingly challenging to capture, and I hope I did it justice. All my love to @desert-fern for beta-reading this chapter! Sorry this chapter is out a bit later than what my schedule started - life happened.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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What’s that old adage they say about too much of a good thing? They say that it’s bad, right? You’ve never once believed it. You love your job and your life in San Diego couldn’t be better. You’re in the same place as your best friend for the first time since she joined the Navy, and you now have Jake. Jake Seresin, the love of your life. Your fiancé. The man you are going to marry. The man you can’t wait to marry. So all in all, life is looking pretty good.

In the months since that disastrous Christmas Dinner at Seresin Ranch, you’ve come to feel like a part of the Seresin family. Mama Georgie treats you like one of her brood and each time you talk to her you feel a little like you're levitating. You've never been so accepted and appreciated by a partner’s family before. It makes it all the more special that it's Jake's family who loves you, too.

But at the same time, you can't help feeling just a little guilty. Jake's been nothing but welcoming, but you haven't told him much about your family. In part, that's because in comparison to the multitudinous arms waiting to welcome you home to Seresin Ranch, there is only one set of arms waiting to welcome Jake home. You're not sure about the reception he'll have, though.

Your dad, the closest thing you have to one, that is, may not like Jake very much at all. He's only told you a million times to never fall in love with a Navy Man. The emphasis has always so clearly been on the word never. He's said it so vehemently and forcefully that it may as well be written in bold red with pen lines scored through the sheet. You'd successfully abided by that one rule all of your life.

Then Jake waltzed into your life, demolishing that rule into shreds of confetti as he did so. It's not going to matter one whit to your dad that you didn't know Jake was Navy until your first date. You'd found out and then agreed to go out with him again anyway. That those events happened nearly a year ago doesn’t help. You gave your heart to Jake, completely. But now you have to introduce him to your dad. Not your birth father, but your father nonetheless.

Your mom and dad had a fairytale kind of love. Sparks flew and it was really, truly, love at first sight. The two of them and their love story were the literal legends that you remember hearing about when you were still small enough to sit in your godfather's lap. The way he told it, they loved each other enough to have you. Then their love was tragically cut short, leaving you all alone at only two years old. That's when your Uncle Ron stepped in. He was probably your favorite person other than your dad. He bought a small house in Maine and devoted his life to making yours as full and rich as your parents would have wanted it to be. Even spending a childhood on Naval Bases across the country had been fun with your dad around.

You can still remember the look on his face the first time you called him dad. The way his eyes had seemed to go gooey and soft when your still chubby fingers had splayed over his cheeks, trying to brush away the tears dripping from his eyes. Since then he's been your dad in every way. The only way he isn't is in your name. He'd adopted you six months after he became your caregiver, but left your name as your parents gave it to you, knowing you'd want to feel the love they felt for you every time someone said your name.

It's probably a bad thing that you haven’t told your dad about your very serious relationship, right? He's just been so busy. First he was still flying for an airline, working crazy hours at airports all over the world. Then after he'd retired six months ago he'd been settling back into the big house in Maine, completing much needed repairs and falling asleep exhausted in his armchair with a beer dangling from his fingertips. You can't count the number of phone calls you've gotten from the housekeeper, Mrs. Mayfair, when she'd found beer on her immaculate floors.

Of course, just as you're thinking about him, his profile picture comes up on your phone along with the buzzing and ringing of a phone call.

"Hey, Kiddo." He sounds gruff - gruff, tired, and so fond all at once.

"Hey, Dad." Just hearing his voice, crackly and deep through the phone makes you feel at home. But he doesn't call very often. The last time he'd called was over Christmas, when you'd told him about Jake. He still doesn't know what Jake does, but he knows who Jake is and what he means to you. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up, Honey Bee. Do I need to have a reason to call my only kid?"

"No, sir!" You don't think his laugh could ever keep you from laughing a little too.

"Honey Bee, when are you going to come home and bring your boy home to meet your old man?"

You try to dissemble, really you do, but no matter what you do, he's adamant.

"I have to check with Jake, daddy. See when's the earliest he can take some leave."

His grumble at your words has a cold sweat dripping down your spine.

"Taking leave, huh, sweetheart? So you ended up with a military man after all, did you?"

"Yeah, daddy, I did." The picture of Jake you keep on your desk fills you with so much joy as you trace your finger over his smiling cheek. "I know you told me not to, but I love him, daddy. So much - and he's good to me. So good to me."

"Sweetheart, that rule was just to keep you from getting hurt. But you're a thirty-year-old adult. I trust your judgment. So talk to your Jake and we'll set something up. I love you, honey bee."

"Love you, daddy." Time to text Jake and see if he’s ready to meet your dad, you guess.

Jake agrees, the two of you make plans to fly to Maine in the spring. But, you can’t get a read on how he truly feels, his agreement is less than enthusiastic. In truth there is a sick pit at the base of your own stomach. Will your dad like Jake as much as you do? Will he be able to see how wonderful your fiancé is despite his reputation?

Maine is different. Jake’s had postings all over the world over the past decade. Texas has always been home and now San Diego feels like home too. Especially now that he has his gorgeous girl. But, Jake’s only been in and around cities. So the sleepy little town they got off the ferry at in Maine feels like taking a trip back in time. It’s an idyllic little town, complete with little white washed houses and fenced gardens. There are houses dotted up a hill at the center of town, the vista wind-swept and green for miles around them. The early spring air brushes past his face with little bursts of cool salty air and the ocean is an unreal, crystal clear blue. Everyone knows each other and it seems like everyone knows Gorgeous by name.

Speaking of Gorgeous, Jake’s never seen her this nervous. His beautiful gorgeous fiancée, Jake’s never seen her scared about anything. Even when he woke up in that hospital room all those months ago, she hadn’t looked scared. She’d been worried, angry, and relieved all at once. He can still remember how it had felt to hold her when he was sure he’d never get the chance to ever again. That day he’d promised himself to never take her for granted. And that he was going to marry her someday. They’re one step closer to the day he’s going to marry her, but now that Jake’s in Maine, he has to ask her dad for permission. Not permission to marry her so much as permission to take care of her. He has to promise that she’ll never be without a thing she needs so long as she’s his. Jake needs Gorgeous’ father to know that he loves her and that he’ll treat her as she deserves and that he will love her the way her parents loved each other.

Even now, when he’s tired and hot and hungry and he knows she is too, she’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Her hair’s in a loose messy bun at the back of her head and the golden summer sun catches on each glistening strand until she’s framed in gold like a priceless painting in a museum somewhere. But it’s her smile, tremulous and small but still so perfectly gorgeous that takes his breath away. He steals that moment to get right into her personal space. Jake’s sure he’ll never get tired of how she responds to his touch, like he’s everything she’s ever wanted, that he’s all she’ll ever need. Her lips when he captures them taste like cherries and as her arms wind around his neck, it feels like the world falls away. This is it, the world screams, every cell in his body sure, this is her. The one.

“Not that I mind, Jay, but what was that for?” Her chest heaves softly and while Jake would love nothing more than to kiss the soft skin, he settles for taking her hand.

“Because I love you, gorgeous. No matter how this meeting with your dad goes, it’s not going to change a thing. I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried.” Her eyes mist up, and that’s enough to have him tug her close again.

“Now take me home, pretty girl.” He grabs the one big suitcase from her hand and tucks her under his arm, shifting the duffel to the shoulder of the arm pulling the suitcase. “It’s real pretty here, baby doll. Is this where you grew up?”

As he chatters away, Jake slowly sees her relax. She’s smiling and laughing and as she leads him up the hill, telling stories at a mile a minute, he can almost see her tiny baby self ricocheting up and down this very hill. He’s not seen any pictures, but he just knows that she was a tiny little thing, all mischief and big grins. The closer they get to the big white house, nearly at the top of the hill, the more tense Jake can feel himself get. There’s an imposing aura surrounding the property, something which sends prickles of quasi-recognition through him. He hasn’t felt like this since the last time an admiral made the rounds at Top Gun when he was there the first time.

That feeling compounds as Gorgeous opens the gate and pulls him towards the big shiny Oak doors. She lets his hand go, and he wants nothing more than to drag her back into his embrace again. His fingers itch with the feeling, because she’s not in reach anymore and that means that she isn’t keeping the nerves at bay. He’s faced down literal missiles and gunfire, SAMs and anti-aircraft munitions, but he’s never been as scared as he is staring the glossy wood down.

When it opens, Jake can barely breathe, because there is a man standing on the other side, dark hair melting into white at the sides. He’s grim and taciturn, a frown curling the corners of his mouth down at the sight of Jake standing there. That frown turns into a huge grin at the sight of Gorgeous, which Jake understands. He can't hide his smile around her either. So maybe he has more in common with Gorgeous’ dad than he thinks?

But more than his smile or obvious love in his eyes for Gorgeous, there's something oddly familiar about him. Jake's seen him before. He's sure of it. As sure as he is that he could pick out his mama blindfolded and that the sky is blue and that his Gorgeous Girl is the prettiest woman in the whole wide world.

"I'm Ron, c'mon in." Jake grabs the suitcase and pulls it and his duffel in, grateful for once that he's never needed much baggage.

"Jake Seresin, sir. Pleased to meet you." He holds his hand out for a handshake, his body as tense as it was for his first flight inspection. But the answering shake never comes. He's left standing there and Gorgeous is glaring and Ron is staring into his eyes. In that moment Jake is sure he's lost Gorgeous when he thought he finally had won her heart. It's obvious from everything she's ever said that she loves her dad. She adores him and believes that he strung the stars up in the sky just for her. If Ron doesn't approve, this relationship is sunk. Jake’s sweating under the strain, he can feel the sweat droplets dripping down the back of his shirt.

“I wish I could say the same, Hangman.” That tone, the way Gorgeous’ dad says his callsign. That strikes a chord. Where the hell has he heard it before? That’s a wholly disapproving tone, something which makes every muscle convulse into a salute rather than the relaxed stance he was in before.

“You’ve got quite the reputation, son.” He feels like he can barely breathe, focusing instead on the rage on his beautiful fiancée’s face. The problem is, he can’t quite tell if the rage on her face is on his behalf or if it’s because he’s pissed her dad off on the first day of their visit. His nod is abortive, quick as he focuses on the wall between father and daughter. “Why the hell should I let you marry my daughter? When, based on everything that I’ve heard, you’re exactly the kind of Navy pilot that I would never have wanted her to end up with?”

“Admiral,” Because he knows exactly who this is, suddenly, like a missile getting tone-lock. Retired Rear-Admiral Ron ‘Slider’ Kerner. “I’d be lying to you and your daughter both if I said that I haven’t thought about exactly what to say to you if you asked me that question. And the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t know why your daughter, your beautiful, sweet, kind, lovely daughter decided to give a womanizing idiot like me a chance. You have to ask her why.”

His throat is tight and it feels like he’s barely breathing. “But I know why I love your daughter. Sir, she’s the only person in the longest time who’s seen Jake and not Hangman. She’s the only person who’s ever been willing to find out who Jake is. And I love her for it. Your daughter saved me. She didn’t save my life, though I know she’s more than capable of doing so.”

Gorgeous’ watery giggle makes a fleeting smile flit across his face. “She saved the man I was. The one before the Navy, before the air-to-air kill. She saved that man, brought him back to life. She does it every time she smiles. I can’t promise you, sir, that I won’t act like Hangman ever again. He’s saved more lives than he’s taken. But I can promise you that your daughter will never see Hangman. Because she’s too good for him, and both of us know that.”

For several moments, all Jake can hear is the thudding of his heart. Then Admiral Kerner turns and walks away without saying another word. He can’t quite believe that he’s going to be allowed to stay in the house, not when things are so indescribably tense.

“Darlin’ let me take your bag upstairs for you.” She’s quiet as she leads him up the wide white stairs to her childhood bedroom. And somehow, that one bright little room is exactly what he expected it to be. He can see his Gorgeous Girl all over. He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see the sweet little girl she was, or the sassy teenager or even the college-aged woman ruling this house with her little, deceptively strong fist. But when he’s set her bag down and turned to head back downstairs, still holding the duffel bag, he’s a little shocked to see tears in her eyes.

“Where are you going?” Her voice is soft as she wraps her arms around him. His arms open to let her in like there is nothing they’d rather do other than have her pressed up against his heart. “Are you leaving already? Jake, my dad didn’t mean that. He’s just got this thing against the Navy. It’s not against you. Please don’t leave. Don’t head back to San Diego without me. Or if you want to head back, we’ll go together.”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not leavin’ town. I was just going to find an inn or hotel with a room I can rent for the week.” Her skin feels like silk against the pads of his fingers as he brushes a stray tear away. “I’m not leaving, baby doll. I love you. You and only you.”

Her eyes flutter closed at the gentle press of his fingers across her cheeks. In that moment he can’t resist kissing her again, slow and sweet until it feels like he’s bitten into the sweetest of cherries and all he wants to do is chase that tart sweetness on her tongue for the rest of all time. But he doesn’t get the chance to, because before he can blink, she’s out of his arms and leaning against the wall.

“You are not leaving this house, Jake.” There’s a stubborn set to her body posture. From the look she’s giving him alone, he sits down on the bed. “For one, the Bed & Bread isn’t open yet for the season. And I don’t want to fight with you, handsome, but I’m marrying you. No matter what my dad says, I’m marrying you. But you need to get along with him, Jay. He’s my family - the only family I’ve got left, mind you.”

When she steps forward and settles into his lap, his hands fly to her hips like they're magnetized to the feeling of her supple skin. Her tiny soft hands cup his cheeks, her ring pleasantly warm against his cheeks as she runs her fingers over his face and into his hair. His eyes keep finding her plush lips, pleading for a kiss when he’s at her mercy. What he’s not expecting is the way her crimson tipped nail taps against his nose.

“So you are going to get along with my dad, every day for the next week, and if you’re good…” Her voice drops to a sensual murmur into his ear. “I’ll give you a blowjob right here and you can pretend you’re taking my virginity right in my childhood bedroom.”

He can’t control his immediate physical reaction to Gorgeous, not anymore, not that he ever has been able to. He can feel himself plumping up in his jeans just at the thought. But just when he’d like nothing more than to lock the door and get his beautiful, gorgeous, perfect fiancée on her stomach on her frilly white bedspread in her childhood bedroom, she’s gone. Left him alone in the bedroom with a painfully hard dick and the scent of her perfume.

If only it were as easy to get Admiral Kerner on his side as it was to charm Gorgeous on that first date. Not that it was easy to charm Gorgeous. On the contrary in fact. But he’d made her laugh. The first sight of that beautiful smile had nearly knocked him on his ass. Getting Admiral Kerner to smile at anything but his daughter is like trying to move a mountain with a shovel. Three days, Jake has been trying. Three full days. No matter the jokes or how helpful he is, Slider Kerner has the same expression at the sight of him.

At least they’re halfway through this visit. Halfway, though it’s felt like years. Is it bad to want it to be the night before they get back on the ferry to go home? At least then that means that the torture is over. Jake's lying supine on the floor, and it's because everything hurts. He's been up since four in the morning when Admiral Kerner had knocked on the door. It had been torture dragging himself away from Gorgeous, all sleepy and soft in just one of his soft t-shirts, the supple curve of her hip exposed as he’d dragged the sheets off to get out of bed. To add insult to injury he hadn't seen her all day. Admiral Kerner had dragged him all around town, having him help whitewash houses and fix fences. There's an aching stitch in his side and a bruise somewhere on his back from when a wheelbarrow had barreled right into him. He's also covered in mud and flecks of paint, hence why he's on the floor. Gorgeous would murder him for getting her pretty lavender-smelling sheets dirty.

He must doze off because it feels like he just blinked yet the room is dimly lit by a lamp and he's looking up into Gorgeous' pretty eyes.

"Hey, Jay." His hand cups her cheek, tangling in the soft cascade of her hair. "Why're you sleeping on the floor, silly? You're covered in paint and mud, too. C'mon handsome, let's get you all cleaned up, yeah?"

He only manages a grunt in response, his limbs uncooperative as he lets her manhandle him into the bathroom. It's even worse in the shower. The last time he felt this tired was that first shower after he was released from the hospital. He'd stayed wrapped around his girlfriend, his beautiful heart and she'd done all the hard work. Tonight goes a bit better at least, in that he at least gets his hands on her perfect tits and can help wash himself. What can he say? Jake knows what he likes and with his Gorgeous Girl, it's everything about her. Were he fully awake, he’d have that pretty mouth parted in an O of pleasure because of him.

So naturally, he doesn't fully wake up until he's standing shivering on the bathmat and sees the mountain of bubbles taking over the bathtub. Gorgeous is facing away from him, her beautiful hair in a bun on top of her head and there’s droplets of water sliding down her back. All he wants to do is trace the path of one of those drops down her skin. It’s enough of a thought to have other parts of himself take notice. But before he can act on that urge, she’s slipping beneath the bubbles and looking up at him. Her lips are slightly parted and with the steam sticking her hair to her skin, she’s never looked more beautiful. Sue him, he loves this woman so much that he thinks she’s never looked more beautiful in basically everything she’s ever worn or not worn. But he can pick a favorite look on her. Nowadays, that look is when she’s just wearing his ring. Of course, tonight the ring is on the nightstand, but this is his second-favorite look.

It’s not a decision at all to settle into the bath in front of her. Her hands are incredibly soft and gentle trailing through his hair and over his pecs as the hot water soothes each aching muscle. He dozes, cradled in her arms, hypnotized by the slow drag of her fingers across his skin, smiling dopily as they pet the sparse hair carpeting his chest. He probably purrs outright at the scratch of her nails across his scalp. This is relaxation - he’s probably closer to a melted puddle than a man at the moment. What he doesn’t expect is the hand which wraps around his length, pumping it languidly beneath the bubbles.

“Darlin’?” His voice is a slur, because just tonight, he can’t take any teasing. Not when he’s been living with blue balls at the sight of her pretty body showcased in those floaty sundresses every day since they got here.

“Hmm?” Her voice is gentle and sweet, hypnotically so. If he didn’t know exactly how well her hands were working him over, he’d think she wasn’t up to anything at all.

“What’re you doing, baby doll?” His voice slurs even as he tips his head back so he can see the concentration on her face. Her nose is scrunched and her lips are parted just a little.

“I’m making you feel good, Jay.” His growl at her words turns into a near whine as her hand tightens just a little. “You’ve been so good for me, after all. I just want to show you how much I appreciate that.”

Just like that, he’s captive to the slow glide of her skin against his. Enraptured by the flutter of her eyelashes while wholly unprepared for the heat rising in his gut. Each soft loving word and sweet murmur into his ear has his balls tightening. Eventually, all Jake wants, all he needs, well other than the obvious, is a kiss. He breaks her concentration by tugging her in, her hands leaving his skin and cupping his face. When she pulls away, her eyes are molten and her hands a bit more forceful as she wraps them around him again. All too soon, the slap of water against the edge of the tub harmonizes with the sounds of his moans ricocheting off the tiles.

“Shit, sweetheart.” The words leave him in a harsh hiss, barely words at all. “Y’keep putting those pretty hands on me like that and I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“Who said I want you to stop yourself, Jay?” Those honeyed words have him grunting his orgasm into the delicate column of her neck, his body twisting as he moans. When he comes back to himself he peppers kisses across Gorgeous’ flushed skin. But sadly, he’s too exhausted to return the favor. All he can do is paw gently at her skin as she drains the tub, rinses him off, and helps him dress. Sleep when it tugs him under is even sweeter when he’s got his fiancée in his arms. Maybe in the morning he can return the favor? And later, much later, mind you, win her dad over?

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@love2write2626 @little-wiseone @eli2447 @f1maverick @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @abaker74 @marvelouslyme96 @daddymack01 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @roosterforme

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[wooobuddyletsgetnasty]

naruto characters that would manhandle you w/o a second thought— pt 2

kekekeke so sorry (no i am not)

⚠️: consensual manhandling, reader gets rag-dolled, slapping, reader gets tugged around by the hair, use of mean names, spitting, all these men have hands and you are welcome to them if you really wanna try it

ft: sasuke uchiha, shikaku nara, and hidan

S.U:

~bro don’t even play w/ me

~you know the mfer has hands

~he knows you know he has hands, but you still out here running your mouth tho???

~you’ll have to excuse him if he is a little heavy handed when he slaps you in the mouth for sayin sumthin’ smart— you always look so shocked afterwards even though you asked for him to do it

~now you out here looking at him while your teeth rattling in your skull like ‘maybe one more please’

~he isn’t gonna deny you— the thought of you not being spry enough to catch the hand flying right at your face gets his rocks off man (he also like the little gasp you make when he taps you in the cheek when you get distracted— an the noise you make when he hauls off and slaps you in the coochie wheeeewww)

~bro he will tug you around by your bicep an it’s just you tripping over your feet to catch up to him while he’s hissing about you needing to learn your place

~slap me in the tit i double dare you

example:

he’s normally so composed— the years of traveling making him master patience in a way that is utterly impressive, but you won’t lie—your favorite pastime is watching that composure slip away.

you’re watching the clench of his fist, eyebrow raising in the way you know sasuke finds fucking vexing. there’s a moment of silence that passes slowly, and for a second you think you’ve actually managed to get away with what you said.

the second passes quickly, his hand moving quick enough you barely have time to brace yourself— and your ears ring, mouth parting in a whine that lights something in sasuke’s stomach. you don’t waver when his hand moves again, this time to soothe the blooming red on the chub of your cheek— you relax into the touch, mouth parting in a sweet noise that gets stuck in your throat when his grip tightens, fingers digging into the blooming color on your face.

“thought you’d know better by now,” a pause, his fingers tightening against your chin, heavy gaze surveying the imprint of his hand against your cheek, before leveling with you, a hunger in his gaze that makes your heart drop to between your thighs, a chord of need thrumming deep, “guess i was wrong, huh?”

S.N:

~sir???

~punch me into another universe???

~bro you know peepaw has hands and he will use them on you if you ask nicely

~you cannot tell me this man would not punch you in the face if you asked for it with a cute little ‘please’ at the end— he is so soft for you

~he doesn’t like to mess up your pretty face though— his favorite is to tug you around by your hair

~don’t worry if your hair isn’t long enough— shikaku will just put his big ass palm on your nape and with enough force— you’ll be moving wherever he wants in no time

~it is so uncomfortable when he does it, but you can’t say you don’t like it— because why would you tell him,‘ ‘s okay, commander— i’ll be good— ‘m good,’ if you didn’t want him to slap you around a little???

~bro you call him commander while he’s muscling you around an he’ll do whatever you want (whatever you want mama)

example:

your lips curled into a snarl, body language challenging him in every way— no matter how much the nerves pooling in your tummy made you quiver under his sharp gaze.

he was losing patience quick— and part of you hopes that this will push him over the edge; your lips pull into a smug grin, body weight shifting on your feet in a way that screams ‘make me.’

when you speak, you use the tone that tics away every shred of shikaku’s self control, “what’s the matter, commander? feeling slow today?” he shifts his weight, matching your smug look— and before you know it, his hand is tangled at your nape, the pain that blooms hot in the base of your skull mingles with the arousal that shoots down to the tips of your toes— it’s delicious, and you fight the urge to preen for him.

you’re on your knees before you register it, the floor unforgiving against your bones, until you feel like they’re creaking under the pressure of his grip— he looks good like this, that’s all you can think, teary eyes looking up at him in the way that makes him feel syrupy inside, “easy now, little one— i would hate to have to hurt you.”

H:

~idk man— this mfer would beat you straight the fuck up an call it foreplay

~did you ask for him to call you a ‘whore’ and spit in your eye?

~no— but you aren’t complaining

~hidan is so mean??? but it’s kinda hot??? like are you gonna stab me rn??? how sexy of you??

~literally just crazy but you have to like it a little you know?

~like he’s just straight up batshit and you’re along for the ride like ‘i wonder what he will do today’ and then it’s just him literally wrestling you to the ground an digging his fingers into your thighs until they bruise (and he’s just cooing in your face about how he’s going to mess your shit up and then you’ll ask him to do it again, won’t you?)

~hidan will hit you in the face full strength an then make fun of you when you whine about how much it hurt

~he’s just like??? yeah bitch, it was supposed to, now shut up and sit on this dick???

example:

you aren’t sure how it escalated this quickly, but when hidan’s hands dig into your bare thighs hard enough you wince— you find you don’t care.

you keen up at him, hips shifting— pleading— for him to touch the part of you that’s gone slick from his treatment. one of his hands moves from the plush of your thigh to grip at your chin— the pressure enough to make you whine his name, saliva thick on your tongue, “please— jus’ want you to fuck me.”

the look on his face is nothing but mocking, the words that follow are in the same tone as yours, pitched high and slurred, “please, hidan— please! wanna get fucked like a whore,” a pause in his sentence, as he shifts to bare his full body weight against you, voice returning to it’s normal tone, “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.”

your eyes water, fat tears lining your lower lashes in a way that hidan would call truly pathetic, and his palm makes contact harsh enough they begin to fall in heavy rivets, “poor little bitch, huh? gonna be good now, aren’t ‘cha?” you nod, mouth parting in a heave at the first drag of his cock against the insides of your thighs, “yeah, that’s it— now open your fuckin’ mouth.”

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Swept Away, Part 1

Characters: Dean Winchester (23 years old, so preseason 1), Reader. (future x reader) mentions of John, Sam and Reader’s family.

Warnings: ANGST, Dean’s self worth problems, severe injury, canon level violence. Mention of medications for pain and anxiety. Also, abuse of John Winchester’s parenting skills. This part is PG-13 but will be at least R in future parts. (Also credit to whoever made the gif, its not mine. I found it on Google.)

Summary: John sends Dean to the mountains of Agness, Oregon alone to track a possible werewolf. What he finds turns out to be a little more than he can handle. Dean is left wondering if his father set him up to fail.

A/N: So, this was written for @mamaredd123‘s Angst Appreciation Day Challenge, Shred All the Hearts. My prompt was to use the song ‘Listen to Your Heart’ by Roxette and to rip peoples hearts out. I hope I deliver on this request. I’m late as hell and I deeply apologize. This is only the first part, but there is plenty of angst here to enjoy.

I know there's something in the wake of your smile. I get a notion from the look in your eyes, yea. You've built a love but that love falls apart. Your little piece of heaven turns too dark.

 It was a sunny, warm day in Agness, Oregon, and you couldn’t get a Roxette song out of your head. You had no idea why it was stuck on replay, but it wasn’t unusual for your brain to taunt you in this way. Wisps of thin clouds that look like they've been painted on a bright blue sky float by on a cool breeze. A promise that the temperature will drop nearly thirty degrees when the sun goes down due to the proximity of the mountains. You like the feeling of freedom that the place gives you, but you could do without the dramatic drops in temperature.

 Your house sitting while your grandparents are spending the summer touring Europe. Being a junior in college, and accepting anything that would give decent pay, you are actually enjoying your alone time. Whether you are home in Seattle, Washington or at school at Washington State in Pullman, you are constantly surrounded by people.

 Out here, in your grandparent’s cabin on the bank of the Rogue River, it's peaceful. You found yourself sitting on the deck most days, typing away at the book you've been writing for a year now. But, you can't expect much else from an English major with aspirations of publishing your many adventures one day, can you?

 You don't really want for anything out here, except for maybe a Starbucks. You drive an hour out to buy a couple of weeks’ worth of groceries and that is your quota fill of socializing. If you are feeling extra adventurous, you stop at the Olive Garden on the route back home.

 Agness is a small town, filled with mostly retired couples and the occasional tourist. From your trips into the quaint downtown to get your Starbucks fix in the form of a glass bottled Frappuccino, you’d met pretty much everyone in the neighborhood.

 The residents all treat you like you are their own grandchild, dropping off meals and baked goods regularly. There is also Dr. Marjorie Foster, a divorcee who likes to pop by after crazy days at the hospital to share a bottle of wine and sarcastic banter. So, although you are technically alone, you feel rather safe and spoiled.

 Listen to your heart when he's calling for you. Listen to your heart there's nothing else you can do.

That's probably why you were drawn to the black Chevy Impala parked to the left of the small parking lot. It was parked beneath a copse of trees, like the big black beauty could ever be inconspicuous. Add that to the silver scratches all along its side and hood, plus the flat tire that was sitting on its rim, made it even harder to miss.

 Maybe it's your insatiable curiosity that makes you walk a little closer to the damaged vehicle? It does tend to get you into a lot of trouble. You'd probably never know for sure. But you won't forget your first look inside.

 The upholstery is slashed open, bits of yellow foam and tufts of heavy cotton are strewn about. But what catches your attention is the motionless heap in the back seat that you know, just by the sinking feeling in your gut, is a person who needs help.

 You won't remember how you closed the distance between you and the car so quickly. Or your train of thought when you try to open the door only to discover it locked. You wrap your over shirt over your arm and put your elbow through the window without hesitation. You'll question your strength later.

 By now Gregory, Matilda's husband (the one who makes incredible venison stew), stops pumping gas to see what all the commotion is about. You are already digging through the seat stuffing and blankets by the time he arrives behind you.

 You faintly hear him speaking to someone on the phone, reporting in a panicked yet succinct tone to emergency officials, when you finally find bloody, pale skin. Luckily, it's attached to a person who is unfortunately torn to shreds.

 “Hey!” You don't dare move him. Isn't that one of the basic rules in case of a back or neck injury? When the final blanket is pulled back you see the sharp jaw and hint of rose gold stubble. “Sir, can you hear me?” Your only response is a growled groan muffled by the seat where he has his face buried. But, at least it's something, right?

 You take a quick survey of the inside of the car, noting used bandage papers and an empty bottle of cheap whiskey. When you climb into the car and sit down, your foot kicks an old bottle of pills. Was the man suicidal? All of this blood loss, whisky and upon looking at the label you discover that it is Darvocet. That stuff had been pulled off the market for years now!

 “Hey, you with me?” He eases himself painfully slow into a sitting position, causing him to cry out hoarsely in pain. His voice already shredded like he had already done some screaming. He's panting in loud, painfully abrupt breaths through his open mouth. Everything about his boyish face is pinched with pain. Your heart squeezes with sympathy and absolute helplessness. You should've gone to med school like your dad wanted you to. Then you'd know exactly what to do.

 You note then that his front side doesn't look any better than his blood soaked back does. It also revealed how his left leg is mangled and twisted in unnatural directions. Some of the blood is dried, making his skin stick to the seat. There’s no telling how long he'd been in this car bleeding and in pain.

 “T’ll S- S’mmy, ‘m s-s’rry.” When you finally lock onto his ghost pale face, the expression there kicks you right in the stomach with a steel toed boot. His split bottom lip and chin are quivering with repressed emotion. His voice comes out shaky and raspy because he's vibrating with shivers that you know probably mean that he's in shock. He's probably been in shock for a while.

 I don't know where you're going and I don't know why, but listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye.

 This guy, because man seemed like a bit much since he couldn't be much older than you, may very well have been trying to end it all if the pain openly displayed on his face is anything to go by. Through the black, crusted blood you can tell with startling clarity the difference between the physical and emotional pain on his expressive face.

 You fight the urge to push his hair out of his eyes, which is obviously overgrown from a short haircut. It appears that way, anyway, judging by the shaggy and uneven ends. He looks like even his hair follicles hurt, caked in crusted and congealing blood, so you refrain.

 “You're gonna tell him yourself.” You answer firmly as you wrap the scratchy, stiff blanket back over his shoulders when he shivers again violently.

 Even that small movement prompts deeply hurt, wounded noises that get caught in the back of his throat, but you can tell that he's trying to hide just how much pain he’s in.

 It makes you briefly wonder how someone who should be going to college or discovering themselves learned to be that damned stoic. “Hang in there, helps on the way. Is there anyone I can call for you?” You plead, wishing that the ambulance would hurry so that there was a way to eventually rectify the abject misery on his face. He's looking at you through his pain filled gaze as he softy answers ‘no’ and it rips your heart out. You feel inept and helpless.

 Sometimes you wonder if this fight is worthwhile. The precious moments are all lost in the tide, yea. They're swept away and nothing is what it seems, the feeling of belonging to your dreams.

 “An’ m’dad, too. T-t’ll m’s-srry I c’dn’t f-finish th’ j’b.” Liquid that has been building up in his eyes soon gives way to fat tears that tracks strange patterns through the new and old blood when he can't hold them back anymore. As he confesses what he thinks are his last words through busted, numb lips, it makes an icy shiver skip down your spine. “…’ts m’ f-fault… p-people ‘r g’nna die ‘causa m-me…” Tears progress into hiccupping sobs that make him squeeze his eyes shut against what you feel he thinks of as weakness and pain.

 You look briefly for a wallet or phone, finding the latter on the floorboard. You get two seconds to feel victorious before you discover that there is a giant tooth mark in the middle, cracking the small screen into unusable pieces. “Shit.” Just what the hell had he gotten into that would cause so much damage? “What's your name?” You look for somewhere uninjured to rest a reassuring hand but can't find anywhere promising.

 “Dean W’nchester.” You'll realize later how profound it is that he gave you his real name. That it was because all of his layers and walls were stripped down to nothing.

 You know his bottomless green-hazel eyes will haunt you for the rest of your life if he doesn't make it. There was no other ending that you can bear to imagine for him. You know it sounds so naïve, but someone with this much soul can't just die such a horrific death all alone. You feel a small amount of relief when you can finally hear the sirens of the ambulance in the distance.

 “They'll be here any second.” As you say the words you're not sure who you're trying to console more.

 There's an hour drive to the nearest hospital in Gold Beach in his future. It's a small hospital that is the size of maybe two Costco warehouses shoved together. But surely, amongst their few floors of equipment and educated staff, they can fix the broken pieces?

 In the two seconds of silence you decide that you can be positive enough for the both of you.

 “Dean Winchester?” You rest your hand lightly over the one he isn't using to prop himself up. It startles you when his cold sweat covered hand grasps yours back painfully tight. The way he clings to you like you're a lifeline make tears pool in your eyes. “You're gonna make it. I promise.”

 Dean’s POV:

I wake up suddenly, claws and massive, drooling jowls snap viciously at me from behind deep, shifting shadows. It feels like the beast is sitting on my chest, making it cave in. It's putrid, hot breath on my face. My ribs barely put up a fight before they snap like twigs beneath its weight, white hot, stabbing pains through my belly.

 I try to struggle free but my arms and legs won't obey my commands for them to move. To fight back. So, all I can do is wait for him to consume me for dinner. All I hear are growls and distant shouting that are drowning out a strange, tinny beeping noise in the background. It reminds me of the sound of its claws digging into Baby’s quarter panel as it tried to peel her open and drag me back out into the dark of the mountain. Of the liquid heat of pain as it's claws raked through my skin like I was soft butter.

 But then I hear, “Dean.” It kind of sounds like Sammy before his voice changed, soft and kind, if a little static and warped. But that can't be right. I hope that it means that the past few years were a nightmare, but it's only a slight hope. Good things rarely happen to a Winchester.

 It's probably some newly created fresh hell conjured to torture and destroy me in my last seconds on earth. The thing I was hunting was a were wolf, I was sure of it. He looked normal, all wolfed out with gray, wiry hair. But when it found me… It was like his senses and strength were beyond what a normal were was capable of.

 But it's too tempting not to answer, even if it's not real, as the tinny noise gets louder and more frantic. I'd give anything to be able to talk to Sam and tell him how sorry I am. I'd kill to tell him that I would stand up to Dad more so that we don't have to move around so much. So he can go to college close by. Anything. I can be better so he wants to come back.

 The crushing weight of remembering that I'm alone nearly drowns out the relief of hearing Sam's voice. But I'm just that delirious to believe.

 “S’mmy?”

 I gag, choking on something that tastes a lot like old blood and cotton balls stuck in my throat. I finally get my arm to move so that I can remove whatever is clinging to my face. So that I can catch my breath but something heavy slams into my forehead.

 “Dean. Hey, Dean! Please stop, you're gonna hurt yourself.”

 And just like that all the fight drains out of me, envisioning a young Sammy with his stupid floppy hair and worry bright little kid eyes that are way too smart for his own good. “K, S’mmy. M’ s’rry.”

 “You're okay. Everything's gonna be okay.” I feel the softest pressure against my temple and fingers brushing through my hair before I tunnel into nothingness.

 When I wake up the second time the beeping doesn't sound so tinny. With the way my body and head aches, it actually sounds like its right in my ear. Fuck. I hope Sam got the license plate number off the damn truck that mowed me over. We were gonna sue the hell outta that bastard.

 But what if he ran over Sam or Dad?

 At that thought, my eyes shoot open and I'm moving before I even know what's weighing me down. I manage to drag my legs over the side of the bed just as a nurse comes running in.

 “Mr. Winchester, please! Stop-“

 However, I've already got the momentum going apparently and drop like a bag of damn rocks to the hard linoleum floor just as I realize my leg is encased in a large, heavy cast and incapable of holding my weight. Ugh. I didn't even want to know what kind of germs I was sitting in!

 Belatedly, like a flame starting as a tiny spark only to turn into licking blaze-like pain engulfed me for an undeterminable amount of time. Like it had fought through the pain killers just for the joy of kicking my ass. I made sure not to panic. I had been in this headspace before, and nothing could be gained by losing my shit.

 The first thing I vaguely noticed as the pained haze started to morph into a deep chasm of an entire body ache was a strange warmth crawling down my arm and thigh. Upon further investigation I discovered that I had managed to pull out both my iv catheter and my pee bag. Just fucking lovely.

 The nurse with the pretty milk chocolate skin and curves enough to make a grown man weep had a look of deep sympathy on her doe features. “Well, welcome back to the world Mr. Winchester. Let's get you cleaned up, huh?”

 I was beyond grateful that she didn't coo or fawn over me, saving what was left of my pride. However, there wasn't going to be much left for long.

 What’s more embarrassing than getting a sponge bath from a beautiful woman in a totally not sexy way? It's having those same color rich eyes look at you with pity when you tell her for the millionth time that you don't have anyone to call while reinserting a catheter. Into your dick.

 If I was hunting with Dad or Sam it would be up to me to sneak outta here and meet up at the first motel in the phone book. But that was why I was laid up in bed, wasn't it? Because Dad trusted me with a job and I'd gotten myself taken outta the game in the recon phase. Pathetic. It kinda makes a person unmotivated to move at all.

 Honestly, I can't even remember how I got my dumb ass back to the Impala. 23 years of following my Dad around and apparently I had learned nothing from him. Even my memory was shot to hell, fuzzy and useless.

 I drifted in and out as Octavia, who turned out not to be a nurse, but a third year intern, filled me in on my injuries. I lost count of how many stitches they'd done and how aggressively they'd had to treat my wounds with heavy iv antibiotics. She wasn't telling me anything I hadn't been through before, but I nodded along like I was concerned just the same.

 Which, to be honest, wasn't all that hard because the memory of how these injuries were given to me appeared in flashes of red and black.

 It wasn't too damning until she told me about my leg being broken. Which, hello! Cast! They'd been able to put a regular bone pin in my tibia, and she assured me that I'd be transitioning into a weight bearing boot in a couple of weeks.

 Then, there was my right arm. Ha! They had to reset my shoulder (but honestly the damn thing had been out of joint at least three times already. No big deal.) there was a single break in my fore arm, which alright, no big. But it was just my luck that my trigger finger and thumb had been heavily bruised and had tiny hairline fractures on both of them.

 Fuck.

 Where was I gonna go? What was I gonna do when they inevitably kicked my homeless ass out of here? I didn't have enough money for pain meds, much less heavy duty antibiotics! And I'd be damned before I called my Dad to tell him how epically I failed at the hunt. At being a human being in general.

 How was I gonna finish the hunt?

 And my trigger finger was fucked!

 Distantly I registered that stupid heart monitor beeping shrilly. God damnit, how could I have gotten myself into this mess?

 “Calm down, Mr. Winchester.” Octavia sounded infinitely patient but firm as she adjusted the drip rate on my iv bag. I instantly start to feel calmer and I couldn't drum up enough energy to be indignant, sure that I was being given a sedative. If anything, I'd embrace the big black nothing just to not have to feel.

 After a few moments I felt my heart rate slow, a cloud of comfort falling over me and making my problems a distant memory even though I knew they were right on the surface.

 “Well, sugar, you do have a visitor. Now that you're back to your handsome self, do you want me to bring her back?” Her tone of voice was warm as she regarded me with her hands on her hips. I so wanted to say something flirty, maybe flash her a grin like I'd done to win over many a witness. I just didn't have the energy.

 Sam had called it disgusting. I'd said flirting was my super power. Then Sam had said that ‘being a manwhore is not a super power.’

 Aside from that, I couldn't figure out what she meant by visitor. Was it possible that Dad or… or maybe even Sam? But he'd have to be damn psychic.

 She must've read the confusion all over my face. I could hear my father’s voice right in my ear, ‘Need to work on that poker face, son. You're gettin’ sloppy.’ Yeah, if he only knew.

 “I would make time in this busy schedule of yours. Another couple of hours in that car and you wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for Y/N.” She was somehow stern while maintaining a kind face that I was afraid to cross. At my nod of agreement, she smiled wide. “Good boy.”

 I vaguely remembered a girl climbing in Baby and helping me to sit up. Which had caused a whole hell of a lotta unnecessary pain if you asked me. But she had spoken in a soft voice and held my bloody hand. Maybe she'd even promised that I would live after I'd sat there and blubbered like an infant.

 Still, no matter how relaxed I was, I wasn't prepared for the amount of beautiful that breezed through that doorway behind Octavia. In fact, I'm pretty sure my mouth was hanging open when Octavia spoke to me again in an amused tone.

 “You just use that call button if you need anything, okay?” And then she was backing out with a smile and leaving me alone with… God, it was juvenile to think, but how could she be so striking? I was all for appreciating natural beauty, but her features stood out as exotic. Like she belonged in the wild with her long, wavy hair flowing behind her.

 “Hey, Dean Winchester. You look a little better than you did a few days ago.” Her smile was warm and a little flirty as her lips formed the words and I struggled to comprehend them for a moment.

 “A few days?” I managed to get out through my scratchy throat.

 The smile fell as she bit her bottom lip when she nodded to confirm my fear. “It's actually been a couple of weeks. They were worried you wouldn't wake up again. That maybe you'd lost too much oxygen to your brain and caused some damage.”

 Ha, now Dad could officially call me brain damaged! If he ever managed to find out about this little accident. Which he wouldn't if I had any say in the matter. It's not like he checked in very often nowadays. He was still brooding over Sam leaving and being stuck with the stupid son.

 In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to have sent me out on my own in hopes that I would get eaten. “Sorry to disappoint, Dad.” I muttered and felt the sardonic smile curl a side of my lip upward before I realized she was still here. “Sorry.” There was nothing left for me to do but close my eyes and feel my face flush in helpless embarrassment. Because that's just what I was. Helpless and in a medicated fog. I didn't even have the energy to pretend, not enough brain power to say ‘sorry, sweetheart’ with some kind of move to make her forget she ever saw me like this.

 “Well, anyway.” I heard her steps move closer and opened my eyes to watch her swap out some dying flowers for a fresh bundle of purple like she'd been doing this all week. Maybe she had? The renewed scent of lavender filling the room and blocking out some of the hospital antiseptic was familiar. “I'm glad you're awake and getting better.”

 She then sat down on the chair that was already perched close to the side of the bed with even more familiarity than the flowers. My mind immediately jumped to the Sammy-like voice that I'd heard before. “You were in here the first time I woke up.” I didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did, but I was horrified that this girl kept seeing me in a vulnerable position over and over.

 “Yes.” She didn't sound the least bit remorseful, maybe she was even a little defiant. “You were dreaming about being attacked. I felt so bad when they came in to sedate you, but you were gonna tear out your stitches.” She actually did look like she'd been worried and I couldn't figure out why she would be sitting at some strangers bedside wasting energy on worrying over them.

 “How are you allowed in here anyway? Isn't it family only or some crap like that?” I was clearly lashing out and defensive because I was uncomfortable, but that doesn't mean I could stop it.

 “Well, sorry to break it to you, but this place is smaller than Mayberry and I happen to have some connections.” She obviously meant that to be funny, but as the tone of my face didn't change, she straightened up in her seat. “I can go, if you want.” Why did she have to look so earnest and sweet, flashing puppy dog eyes so much like my little brothers? Only, they were the wrong shade of brown. “I actually used to volunteer here for a few summers. So, I kind of know everyone.” Her eyes brightened a little, “but that means I know where they stash the extra jello.”

 “Well, I guess you can stay then, sweetheart.” The meds were messing with me, but I did manage to flash her a grin. If I were a stronger person I would've turned her away, but just a little human contact couldn't hurt, right? My father already thought I was a failure, might as well go for broke.

 So, she stayed. Since I wasn't much for conversation, she mostly told me everything about herself. About college, what she was studying and summer break. (And didn't that hurt, thinking of Sam preferring to hang out with kids his own age instead of contacting me) About house sitting for her grandparents and what a ‘lovely’ little town Agness was.

 Despite being on the knifes edge of explicit pain, I found her voice calming. I dozed off a few times, much to my embarrassment, but she didn't seem to mind. She only picked up where she left off.

 When my first meal since I couldn't even remember arrived in the form of cream of wheat and beef broth, she got up to leave. She patted the top of my head softly, a move I would've found irritating if it hadn't felt so good. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

 I even let her get close enough to kiss my cheek before she left and it was a pattern she continued to follow. I let her smooth down my hopeless hospital hair because it felt so damn good to be touched. I didn’t trust that I would see her again. But, I did.

 Every few days she would replace the flowers without question and smuggle in extra Jello in her bag. I got used to her coming and was horrified that I looked forward to listening to her banter on without asking me 20 (painful) questions about my life.

 The one day she didn't show up was actually a little devastating. The only thing that rectified the whole ordeal was that she'd texted Octavia to tell me she wouldn't be in. Octavia was the one to sneak in an extra pudding that night. I appreciated it, even though she brought the sugar free kind.

 On top of being denied what I'd started to affectionately call my ‘candy striper time’, I was bombarded by financial services. They were looking for identification and insurance. Which I had neither.

 The white haired, plump representative lady had left very disappointed. And I started to feel even more antsy. They were weaning me off of the iv pain killers onto pills with less strength. I could still feel the hum of muted pain through my body, but I couldn't bring myself to say a word.

 The lady returned with another clip board later that day and I felt my face flush red as my blood pressure sky rocketed. She must've seen how irritated (anxious) I was because she explained immediately.

 “Well, I had no idea you were a cousin of Y/N’s!” She paused for a moment, watching me expectantly for a reaction. When I gave her none, which what was I supposed to say? Yeah, being cousins is great! Did I even have real cousins?

 She handed over the clipboard and pen and pointed out what I needed to fill out and where I needed to sign. Ha, like my signature actually meant anything! When I was finished with that, she flipped the page over and instructed me to fill out the form beneath it.

 “The Y/L/N’s are very influential around here in the West Oregon and Washington areas. You're very lucky to be a part of that family, young man. All of your medical services will be covered. So, you make sure you keep those recheck appointments.”

 I gave her an attempt at a smile, but I'm sure it fell flat. The best thing about it was that she didn't stick around for long.

 After she left, I passed the rest of my time going between wondering how Sammy was doin and why Y/N had really picked me as a charity case. Which, come on, it wasn't like she picked me for my swollen face and sexual prowess. There had to be a catch.

 It was somewhere around day 21 when Y/N came wheeling in with a wheel chair and an expectant look on her face. The days had been slipping by in a blur of all manner of people poking and prodding. If it weren’t for the open blinds on the window, I wouldn’t have a clue.

 “I'm springing ya, Winchester.”

 I'd spent the entire day in fear of those words. Where was I supposed to go? The impala wasn't moving without a lot of tender loving care and she was parked right in the middle of town. I couldn't just stay there and wait it out until I could move again.

 “Already?” I managed, my voice was still scratched all to hell. It made me sound like I was going through freaking puberty again. Oh well, just add that to the list of shit happens. “I haven’t even called my ride yet.”

 She smiled brightly, like seriously, how were her teeth so white? “I’m your ride.”

 And how could I argue with that? ‘No, that’s okay, my Dad’ll show up. I promise?’ Or maybe, ‘Hey, my brother isn’t too far south from here. He could totally be here in a day…’

 So, against my better judgement and all of my instincts telling me that this was ridiculous… I let her lead the way for better or for worse.

Tagging: @mamaredd123, @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyxx , @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @tas898, @wheresthekillswitch, @glendagiggles, @mandymoiselle1970

If you would like to be on this list (or off), let me know! Also, I’d love if you took the time to let me know what you think so far. This story will have at least one more part, possibly two.

[lightsinthedistancee]

Under the Cover of War: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Pairing: FO!Poe Dameron x Resistance!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: “‘Let’s go,’ he murmurs. ‘Let’s run.’ His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. ‘Please.’”

Following the destruction of the Hosnian System, a promise and a dire decision are made by you and Poe.

Warnings: Language

“Why?”

The single word is clipped, volatile, dangerously soft in nature. It’s a question, a plead, an accusation, all at once. It seems to scream in the silence, to imply a million other queries that Poe doesn’t want to answer.

He simply remains quiet as he stares at your back turned to him. You sit on the edge of the bed, breath shaking, refusing to even look at him.

He inhales, blinking rapidly. “Sweetheart—“

“Why?” This time, it’s a scream. The sound is ragged, painful, your voice cracking. It makes him flinch, makes him draw into himself.

The loud cry echoes, disintegrates as the seconds pass.

He wishes he could transport himself back to five minutes ago, before either of your holos had rung. Before the First Order had reported a victory to him, before the Resistance had reported a devastating, unfathomable loss to you.

He wants to return to when he’d laid beside you, running his fingers down your sides, when the memory of pressing you into the sheets was still fresh in his mind.

But somehow he knows that whatever the two of you have will never return in any way.

“How could you?” you whisper, the shock of five of the galaxy’s most populous planets being obliterated in mere minutes still in the process of shattering you to pieces.

Poe wants to shrink into the air, disappear in moments. He knows you’re crying, that you can’t handle it. He’d be lying if he said he himself was handling it at all.

“I…I don’t know what happened.” He stares at the sheets, tears running down his own face. He can’t imagine it. The deaths of tens of trillions. Their screams, the pain they must have felt in the blinding light of imminent death.

Your hands tighten into fists as you shake. Your form is locked in tension, perhaps about to abruptly turn around and strike him, perhaps about to break and collapse into a distraught pile of bone and flesh. “You’re a liar.”

The words are akin to a strike itself. He near hisses, unstable in his new knowledge. “Why the fuck would they tell me? I’m not even a colonel.” His volume rises, swirling in the atmosphere, ready to completely burst free. “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it—“

“But you certainly have something to do with those who ordered it!” You finally turn to him. You’re livid. Eyes red with tears, lips in a tight line, a glare that threatens to break him.

And your statement is not something he can deny. He deflates, silent. He can feel your eyes on him expectantly, but nothing comes.

When enough time passes, you stand from the bed, grabbing your things from the bedside table. As your fingers delicately wrap around the blaster you regularly carry around, he briefly thinks that perhaps you’re about to turn around and shoot him.

But you don’t, and something new finds home beside your anger: a heartbreaking sense of disappointment.

It’s on instinct when his hand shoots out, grasping your arm. “No, wait…please. Don’t go,” he says quietly.

You’re all he has. There’s nothing more to say other than that. Life in the Order is a cold one, always has been. While he may not agree with the side you’ve chosen, you’re the sole warmth in his life, the sole radiant light.

You jerk in his grip, but he tightens it, eyes unashamedly pleading with you, begging you to not leave him.

Even in the place you always meet him, buried beneath layers of rock, surrounded by passages of clandestine activity necessary in your illicitness, his meetings with you never fail to be the only times he’s truly happy.

“Please…,” he pleads once more, thumb running over your knuckles.

A debate takes place on your features, and he can read you better than he can anyone else. He’s the person you’d let into your heart, the person you’d revealed every personal secret to. He’s the one who’d whispered ‘I love you’ one fateful night, the one to whom you’d whispered it back. He’s the one that had challenged your blind loyalty to any ideology, the one to whom you’d done the same.

He can see all those things viciously, ruthlessly grappling with the horrifying events that had just transpired: bodies being ripped to shreds, building being reduced to dust, life being annihilated in fire.

And in an act of emotional obscurity, the two opponents are shockingly close.

It’s evident which wins out when you limply fall back to the bed, body slumping to lie down, eyes tiredly closed.

“Then tell me why,” you whisper, barely audible.

“Why what?”

“I want to know why you joined the people who did…this.”

And at that simple request, he feels his walls rise. Even if they’d fallen long ago when he was around you, they’d never truly disappeared.

“I thought we don’t talk about stuff like that,” says Poe quietly.

“Well, I changed my fucking mind.”

He gazes around the room, reminded of the sole thing that prevents full, unconditional commitment to the other. The space they are in is a brutal reminder of the fact, for it presents itself in sets of two, an embodiment of duality.

Two blasters on top of the bedside table. One polished and new, the other dull and thoroughly used.

Two sets of boots clumsily scattered by the door. One shiny, lacking a single scuff mark, one that’s appearance suggests it’s been passed through several owners.

Two jackets. One with the hexagonal, sixteen-rayed symbol of the First Order, one with the starbird of the Resistance.

It’s a glaringly horrid representation of the two of you, never destined to be the same.

“Did your tongue also vanish along with the five planets?”

He slowly comes back to the present with your words, forcing away his disconnect.

It’s not something he can afford right now. Maintaining his privacy, hiding the events of his past, concealing the cause of his motives—he can’t afford any of that if he wants you.

And somehow, all he does want is you. You, you, you—to the point that he wonders if it’s unhealthy, if it’s even real and true, but that’s something he refuses to consider in the moment.

Even though you’d seen some of the darkness through him, he is certain that your loyalty to light is stronger, if only marginally, and that means he has to tell. He has to reveal.

“My mother,” he simply says, gaze unfocused. “She was a rebel pilot. She died.”

The slight stirring of your body freezes. He’d never talked of his family’s loyalties; he’d always given the impression that they’d passively existed in the deluge of light and dark that had overtaken the galaxy.

“She’s why I joined.” He flinches at the memory, grimacing at the pain he’d felt as a boy. “She died because of rebellion recklessness. Because of belief in blind hope.”

The anger—it’s simmering once more, bubbling higher, inching further and further to the edge of his chest.

And he can tell yours is too. Your fingers grip at the sheets as your eyes narrow. “Reckless…blind…hope?” He’s questioning your belief, accusing it of something dangerously irrational, and you yearn to lash back on instinct, to defend the beliefs you’d lived your life by—even as your own doubts of it conceal themselves in the background.

He laughs bitterly, his voice rising again. “Don’t kid yourself. That’s what the New Republic lived off of, and it was a fucking mess.”

You tense up, practically shrieking your next words, wholly, viciously attacking him back. “Who are you to say that—“

“There were people revolting in the streets!” he yells, his voice perhaps even louder than yours had been. “There were people in the Outer Rim starving! It was chaos—“

“And the First Order is what? Orderly?”

“They’re better than you and your—“

And he falls silent all of a sudden. He stops himself.

He knows where this is going. It’d happened and been resolved before, but he has a sneaking suspicion that that won’t be the case if the two of you continue down this road.

“Fuck,” he groans under his breath, his back slumped as he rubs his face with his hands.

“Me and my what?” you ask quietly.

He just shakes his head.

You fall back to your laying down position, head burying in the sheets, trying to block everything out. He’s right. He’s entirely right. The flaw in the Light, the flaw in the Republic, but you can’t bring yourself to denounce the loyalty you’d inherited.

He sniffles, hiding his tears behind his hands, and his figure—he knows it’s one of pure pain. As good as he’d gotten at hiding his emotions, they always seem to show themselves in your presence, no matter how hard he tries to defeat them, and it’s undeniable that you feel them to the fullest.

“You say ‘mama’ in your sleep sometimes,” you whisper all of a sudden.

At the revelation, he goes still. It’s an unsettling thought…that perhaps you’d known of his weakness long before he’d willingly showed you, long before he thought you deserved to know.

That maybe you’d heard the words of him crying out for his mother before you’d even known the slightest deeply-personal thing about him, when you’d only known the feeling of him inside you and the feeling of his lips on yours and the weight of his body as he slept beside yours.

His reluctance to look at you only increases tenfold when the shame floods in. The shame of a lifetime at this point—of weakness regarding his family, of putting blaster bolts in people who didn’t deserve them, of not being able to let go of his past, something he’d been striving for his whole life.

It all externally devolves into a mere fit of subtle trembles.

“Poe?” Your tone is soft now, gentle. You’re on your knees, sitting up, a single hand on the side of his face joining the space between the two of you. A certain mixture of concern and inquisitiveness finds home in your eyes, and for a second, he thinks your expression reflects one of a person staring at a beaten-down, once-aggressive animal.

“I regret it—joining the Order,” he simply says, voice cracking. The gas, plasma, fire, flesh, and bone of the destroyed system fill his imagination. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Only if you mean it.” There’s still no sympathy to your voice, but there’s a softer edge to it, the kind that’s always existed but disappears in every fight.

“I do.” He leans back into the pillows, forearm over his eyes. It feels as if this has been going on for far too long, for he’s exhausted.

Your hand finds its way into his curls, tracing from his hairline to the base of his neck. It’s hauntingly reminiscent of what he’d felt so passionately and tenderly before the conflict had even begun.

“All darkness dies in the light,” you whisper.

It’s an ambiguous statement to many, but he automatically knows what you’re asking of him—you want his darkness to die in your light.

And while part of him begs and yearns to submit to your wish, something about your words perturbs him—the words unsaid. His darkness…the one he’d held for so long, you don’t want it to disappear, you don’t want it to transform, no, you want it to die. You want him to kill it.

“I can’t,” he says softly, fingers fumbling with the sheets, almost hoping to blindly find you.

“The Light Side’ll—“

“I’m done with the fucking sides,” he interjects, his words lined with a sharp edge. A puff of air leaves his lips as he desperately wishes for calm, one with at least some semblance of permanence. He finally looks at you, eyes now completely devoid of any anger or menace they’d held before, just the sadness of someone who’d made one too many wrong choices. “It’s just pain either way, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” you admit, a brief expression of hesitance crossing your face. “But you have to choose.” The hesitance turns to anguish, a revelation in its most subtle form. “There’s more pain if you don’t, and perhaps…perhaps that’s why I chose my side.”

He props himself up on his forearms at the mere implication—the implication that your unwavering loyalty to the light is not so unwavering, that you’d gone head in like he had with his loyalty and was now beginning to doubt things.

“Some don’t choose—“

“And they suffer for it,” you interrupt, finishing his statement with your own thoughts. It’s something you’ve seen your whole life: those who don’t choose being made to do so—often in violence.

He laces his fingers with yours, delicately wrapping each of your digits around his palm.“We’ve suffered our entire lives, darling,” he muses. “Born into a galaxy at war, a brief respite, and then yet another one…just suffering, suffering, suffering…within us, around us…what’s a little more?”

The whole room seems to freeze as you peer at him, part curiosity, part doubt, part disbelief. “What are you suggesting?”

“I think you know,” he says softly. The warmth staring back at you is undeniably something you would die for.

“Say it.” Your whisper is said with the deepest conviction, awaiting the words that would cement your decision, perhaps a decision you won’t know until you hear the offer leave his lips.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs. “Let’s run.” His gaze is fixed on you, begging for this. He needs you—he needs you to be there for him so that he has a place in the galaxy, a place he would never have otherwise. “Please.”

Your breath shakes, just barely, contemplating, debating. There’s an inevitable weight to war, the kind that crushes people to pieces, and the temptation to run from such a force—it feels right. It feels right to be free, to live safer, to be with whom you want. “There’ll be sacrifices to make.”

“There’ll be sacrifices either way,” he insists, and you’re certain he’s right. “Darling….” His words fade off, and he surges forward, gently locking his lips with yours. It’s tender and pleading, the ultimate question asked once again through touch.

“Poe….” The way you say his name is filled with something decisive, something deliberate. The seconds pass. He waits. “Let’s go.”

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

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[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 33

Pairings: Sirius B, F!Reader, Remus L   Warnings: Swearing, unhealthy defence mechanisms

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Chapter 33: Betray The Moon as Acolyte

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 8th, 1976

Remus peered up to the night sky, resplendent with a coruscating kaleidoscope of stars and the full moon. He yawned, acutely aware of his bones shifting, aching and cracking. Resting on a small cot pressed against the wall in the corner of the shrieking shack, Remus felt his temperature rise and skin stretch too thinly across his body.

“I’ll be back once the sun rises, dearie,” Madam Pomfrey called out, the door millimetres from locking shut.

“Wait,” he said and Madam Pomfrey re-opened the door with a warm, motherly smile.

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For always helping, I know it can be… tiresome.”

How long has it been? That Pomfrey had been helping him out, every full moon — had known of his affliction and been there to assist? It was years now, countless hours of her time wasted on him.

Was he that much of a burden? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, that made his face pucker and heart lacerate itself in fresh wounds.

“Don’t concern yourself with me, honey.” Then the door clicked shut and he heard her utter a spell; to confine the beast within the four walls.

The tormenting plague increased every minute as the countdown to his transformation loomed. His heart thudded stridently and his breathing was ragged and strained. His teeth grinded against each other and his tongue swept across them, feeling them elongate and reshape in preparation.

Remus grabbed the hem of his jumper, exasperated by the overwhelming heat and because he didn’t want to shred it in the process. As he slipped out, feeling the adored red fabric, tattered with holes and frayed yarn in his hands, the door opened and he could already smell Peter and James. Subconsciously, he shielded his body from them, to avoid them from seeing all of his scars.

Remus became dizzy instantly. James wore a particularly strong perfume that day.

More than anything, over the pain and hint of repugnance, he was nervous. It would be the first full moon since… the prank that the Marauders would be together for his transformations. Or all the Marauders aside from one and nobody wanted to address it.

A sharp pain thundered through his skull and he knew time was slipping from him. Remus couldn’t recall the last time the moments before his transformation were that painful.

“You okay, Moons?” Wormtail asked, dropping down beside him. Prongs followed in suit, taking his sweater and folding it neatly.

“I’m fine — umph —”

“Shit! Prongs, get back and turn. Now!”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

After a week of lessons, there were considerable adjustments to the curriculum. Everyone noticed and it quickly dispersed a sombre milieu on all of Hogwarts.

Classes were smaller, many parents deciding to transfer their children to other magical schools around the world. Y/N even received a few worried letters from Matthew that there was an abundance of new British students attending Ilvermorny.

In his worried letters, Matthew informed her that the MACUSA and French Ministry of Magic had been stepping in, fighting forces against the wizarding war. It was all news to her. Ever since James’ parents cancelled their subscription to the Daily Prophet after their beliefs that they were biased, she hadn’t been able to catch up.

More defence and attack spells were taught and everyone became well aware of why someone of Professor Elway’s reputation and skill was there. The same went for the Duelling re-opening and even Flitwick initiated small tutorial sessions for students of all grades to teach them defensive spells.

Defence Against the Dark Arts became nothing more than a Muggle military camp. Elway drilled the students; attack and defence spell after the other, never stopping for a second. Transfigurations focused more on concealment and vanishing charm and every day McGonagall looked as if she aged a decade by the solemn, haunted look that nowadays was permanently carved into her.

Herbology went over a vast majority of life-saving plants, herbs and how to make their own medicine. And Potions heavily focused on identifying spiked potions with poisons and how to create reversal serums in case of emergencies.

The students of Hogwarts weren’t brainless. They knew they were training them for war.

She tried to ignore it, but if anything Y/N felt foolish. The magical world was meant to be an escape, not a guardhouse.

It didn’t help that the murders from the summer played heavily in her mind along with the rumours of Voldemort recruiting students from Hogwarts, prompting a spike of distrust to spread rampantly. It wasn’t time to fight or lose people but to keep those you trusted and loved close. So Lily keeping her distance had her worried.

Sorted into the same dorm as last year, she reckoned she would have some time with Lily but every day it seemed like she was busy with prefect duties, or had homework, or reading, or a new study group she needed to rush off to. She and Lily hadn’t resumed their usual nightly routines either, hadn’t sat with her in the Great Hall since the welcome back feast and hadn’t said more than a word to her.

It was evident that Lily was avoiding her and only her.

Maybe Y/N had gotten clingy, got too close too hastily because it felt too similar to how her mother treated her. It caused the imminent, spine-chilling feeling of wanting to push everyone away.

Extreme distress was starting to pile up.

Luckily, James stayed a constant consistency in her life and a lot of her pent-up fears dissipated by his presence. He never ignored her, if anything he went out of his way to be nearer. Even Peter and most notably, Remus, had become part of her daily life more than ever.

It was terrifying and everything told her to run. Don’t get too close, don’t get too comfortable. But it was hard not to.

That morning, James crept up to her dorm, knocking softly as she popped out, ready for the day. He looked exhausted; his eye bags were prominent, darkened and cradled in his arm, he held Remus’ rabbit.

“To keep him company,” James explained, yawning while escorting her down the staircase, passing the rabbit over. “It was a rough night.”

It would be the first time they would try to incorporate Y/N into replacing Black and balance out James’ other priorities with Remus’ moon cycles. And unable to reschedule Quidditch try-outs to another morning and James forced to leave prematurely, she would have to step in.

But her fears skyrocketed. Were they pushing it? She was only visiting him… It wasn’t out of pity and she genuinely wanted to be there to support Remus.

“What if he doesn’t want visitors?”

James rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. He’ll appreciate it more than he’ll let on.”

But then a faint floral and citrus smell flowed through the distilled air as she took a deep breath.

“James, you smell really good... Are you wearing perfume?”

His frown transformed into a prideful simper. “Bought the same perfume as my mum. Helps when I miss her.”

She gasped. “A mama’s boy!” And then pinched his cheek.

About to step out of the portrait, James must’ve accidentally activated a prank because the moment his hand brushed against the portrait, four Muggle stereos floated above his head, blasting break-up songs on the highest volume. It rattled the walls and made their ears bleed.

“Fucking hell!” James shouted, his wand swishing around to stop the music while Y/N stuffed Remus’ rabbit inside her bag and bewitched a silencing spell around it.

“Students are sleeping!” Lily shrieked, rushing down the stairs and charmed away the stereos.

“Oi! You think we don’t know?” James retorted, a hand clutching his ear. “Emmeline…”

“Emmeline?” Lily repeated, shaking her head. “May Merlin himself save the poor girl daft enough to end up with you.”

The only enlightened that took away from the war and recent murders was Emmeline and her friends pranking and wreaking havoc like the Marauders onto James as a punishment.

He deserved it and even James agreed.

“Where are you two headed?” Lily inquired and for the first time since the train ride, she addressed Y/N head-on.

A glimmer of hope.

“Aw, finally starting to care about me, Evans?” James joked although it’s laced with uncertainty.

Y/N cut off Lily before she had the chance to speak, eager to answer her question. “It’s Remus.”

Recognition filtered through her, gaze shooting up to the large grandfather clock beside the bookshelves. Lily’s head bobbed repeatedly, pressing her lips together sympathetically. She considered James for a moment.

“Will you be back in time for lessons?” Lily then whipped her hands around. “Y’know what, forget it. I’ll take notes for… both of you.”

Y/N felt James nudge her foot, simultaneously forcing out a cough. His hand went to scratch behind his neck. “R-right. Erm, I — we appreciate it, Evans, but ugh — we have a free period this morning.”

Lily’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Sorry.”

“NO!” James said a little too loud. “I mean, no. It’s fine. Thank you.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her neck bending as her shoulders tensed while watching their interaction play out. “Alrighty, we should go. Thank you, Petals.” She interjected. Her hands spun James around as they walked out of the common room and to the hospital wing.

Both students groaned out loudly. Black was there, sitting on the ground and back pressed against the wall to the wing.

“He doesn’t want to see you,” James challenged. His feet pivoted to Black, before her hands pressed against his chest, preventing him from touching Black and starting yet another fight. “Leave it.”

His eyes flickered from her to Black. Sighing, he made a slight rearward movement and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.

“Just don’t follow us.”

They walked inside without sparing him another glance.

“Here comes the fucking sun, Moons!” James chirped, his mood altering drastically. But she staggered behind a beat.

Remus was already awake, quietly chatting to Peter. His bed curtains were half drawn and she took his rabbit from her bag, pulling it close to her chest.

His head snapped in their direction, but instead of his eyes landing on James, it went squarely to her. She smiled, eyes analyzing every ripple of expression. He didn’t seem angry. No, not at all, but stunned.

Once James realized she wasn’t by his side anymore, he turned and looped an arm over her shoulder. He whispered, “Moony won’t bite. It’s okay.”

“I wasn’t expecting you.” Remus finally said, smiling.

“Of course I’d come.” Confidence now circulated her body as she approached him, handing over his rabbit. James was delighted at his response while the rabbit nuzzled its way into the crook of Remus’ neck, tickling him. She murmured into his ear, not wanting to peer pressure him by others' wants, “You don’t mind me being here, do you? I’ll leave, no hurt feelings.”

Remus shook his head, petting his rabbit. “No, please stay.” He croaked, voice deep and tired.

“Oi!” James said, albeit quietly.

“Flirt somewhere else,” Peter added with false annoyance.

James nodded. “So, little Moony —”

“Little Moony?” Remus groaned. “What?”

“Aw,” she teased, “Is moody Moony making an appearance?”

“Did you come just to make fun of me?”

But then Peter grinned cheekily, moving to softly slap his hand down on his thigh in the same tempo as Here Comes the Sun. Y/N and James immediately caught on, ready to chagrin while Remus shook his hands in front of his face to get them to stop.

“Don’t you —“

“Here comes the sun, moody Moony —“ “Crikey.”

“Here comes the sun, and we say it’s alright!” They sang, keeping their voices to a minimum to not worsen his potential headache. They had to hold back their laughter as Peter began to replicate the horrible instrumental with his voice. James sang the loudest. “Little Moony, it’s been a long cold moon cycle.”

Madam Pomfrey poked her head from her office, ready to tell the visitors to be quieter than a mouse — or kick them out in favour of Remus’ rest but she froze. Remus was poorly attempting to cover his smile, his cheeks burning a bright red and she hadn’t seen him that happy after full moons. And after what happened last year, his happiness was all she wanted. So she sat back down, smiling to herself at the horrid sing.

“Little Moony, the smiles returning to the faces —”

“Guys!”

“Little Moony, it feels like years since it’s been here.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

James eventually left, rushing to tryouts with Marlene with a great deal of apprehension. When the bell rang, students rushing down for breakfast, both Y/N and Peter departed momentarily to the Great Hall, grabbing a few snacks and tea Remus requested.

But the moment Peter stepped foot outside the hospital wing, it was as if any sort of energy left his body. He became sluggish, moving slowly and yawned multiple times.

“Pete, go back to him, I’ll get everything,” she implored. “Or get some rest. I can’t imagine staying up all night can be good.”

“It’s —” A yawn. “— Sorry. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t push. They made their way around fast and exited quickly before a group of seventh and sixth years swarmed Peter. A few even greeted her, attempting to strike a conversation.

Peter sent her a dejected look, passing her the rest of the snacks and teacup.

“I’ll meet you there.”

She rushed back in record time. Black was still sitting outside the wing and she could faintly hear him muttering her name but she disregarded him wholly.

But the sight inside the hospital made her heart shatter.

Remus was haggard, dishevelled and face screwed together in pain. He tried to push himself up multiple times to reach behind his head, to his pillow. But it was futile.

The crinkling of the wrapper in her hand made her wince; it became the loudest object in the world at that moment. It forewarned Remus and she gently padded over. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, setting down everything on the metal tray.

“Don’t push yourself — here, let me.” Remus visibly reclined into himself, covering his scarred arms with the blanket coiled by his side. But he listened without complaints as she reached behind his head, fluffing his pillow and helped him lay back down gently. “Not feeling too good?”

“Like shit.”

It became awkward fast.

“Um… Peter’s coming. Was held up with a couple of seventh years.” “You can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Remus blurted out, “I won't force you —”

“Woah there!” She felt as if she was slapped by him. The sudden change had her wheeling. “Who said you’re forcing me? You’re my Moony, no?”

He breathed out a chuckle and shifted towards her. She glanced at the tray with a few potions. What he said stuck to her.

“Do you mind if you can pour those into my tea? Thanks.” Remus croaked.

She nodded, unscrewed the cork to the vials and mixed it into the drink. The clinking sound of the spoon tapping against the porcelain cup.

“What is this?”

“Um… a mixture of powder silver and Nightshade,” grumbled Remus, trying to push himself up as she handed him the cup. “Helps with the pain and fogginess.”

Her mind was restless. “Can I ask some questions?”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Questions?”

“Y’know, about being a werewolf.”

He took a giant gulp. “Did you just skip all the Werewolf questions on the OWLs?” Remus laughed.

“I bet half of it’s false.” She admitted truthfully. “Besides, how am I supposed to help next time if I don’t know?”

Remus stayed quiet for a long time after she said that and she wondered if she pushed a boundary. But then he nodded, urging her to continue.

“Okay… so silver doesn’t hurt you, right?” She watched as Remus sip his tea before having to put it down to laugh.

“Myth.”

“So all the silver bullet stuff..?”

He gave a full-body laugh. “Myth. Sorry, not what you were expecting?”

“No,” she admitted after a bit, embarrassed. All those children's stories were false…

“Silver can’t hurt me, I don’t grow hair rapidly. I like eating rare meat; I have trouble sleeping, I don’t have curved fingernails or low-set ears. I can’t run super fast but I can see better in the dark, can hear, smell and am stronger than the average Muggle or Wizard.”

“Can you always smell or hear better? Or does it increase near the full moon?”

“It becomes stronger near the full moon and after for a while.”

“Wait… Does that mean you can smell people. Like me?!” She was appalled and crossed her arms over herself as if the action would suddenly cover any scent.

Remus barked out laughing before wincing as a dull pain shocked through his system. “You smell fine. Don’t worry.”

Her hands found their way to cover her mouth. She was mortified. “You have a way with words, Lupin.”

Remus was on the verge of tears, nearly choking on himself to prevent laughing. He endured the deep bruise on the side of his ribs digging into him but he couldn’t stop.

She slapped his arm playfully and took the now empty teacup from his hand, setting it down on the metal tray and ushered him to slide over in his bed. He doesn’t hesitate.

Y/N slid beside him, and she could feel the fluctuating rise and fall of Remus’ chest as his chuckles came to a slow halt. She took the rabbit from his lap, holding it in her arms carefully.

“Does she have a name?” She questioned, scratching behind its floppy ears. Remus chose the least threatening rabbit.

“No.”

“We should think of one then.”

Remus watched her, listening to the words pouring out. But then he cringed inwardly, reminded of his cruelty to her a couple of months ago. He wasn’t expecting her to visit and it came as a pleasant surprise. It made his heart flutter. She wasn’t scared. She hadn’t been lying that night. He was accepted.

He tuned in to her heartbeat: steady and calm. Slow.

Her words echoed in his head. I feel safe with you.

Safe.

Remus felt a whisper of a smile worm it's way onto him. As soon the realization came, the dull ache in his body subdued, the burning in his throat faded and the hollow ache in his heart filled with a golden glow. Just a bit.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

September 10th, 1976

“I’m sorry,” Black said, his eyes wide and pleading as he sat beside her in the Great Hall. She ignored him.

“I need to explain, please,” Black begged in a hushed voice while she searched the library’s premises for Regulus. She ignored him yet again.

“Tesoro mio,” Black flirted, both sitting in the common room as she added notes in the werewolf section in her textbook. His new tactic caught her off guard but she prevailed, getting up and leaving.

“Talk to me,” Black whined. “Please.” She ignored him, continuing to walk to class calmly and held her head high. She just left the hospital wing and Black was trailing her.

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a nearby broom closet and closed the door.

“Get off of me!” She nearly screamed. Thankfully, he was smart enough to keep a healthy distance away. She kept her hands balled into a fist, preventing herself from taking one of the dust brooms and smashing it on his head.

“Sorry! But you won’t talk to me any other way!”

Darkness enclosed them, only the light seeping through the cracks of the old wooden door illuminated Black as every ounce of restrengthen was pushed to the edge.

A flurry of apologies fell from his lips but she wouldn’t have it. Simply looking bored at her nails and tapping her foot against the ground.

“I know you’re mad — you have every right to be! I get that, I understand.”

“Then leave me alone?” She jeered sarcastically, handing grazing the doorknob.

“Wait! Please, just hear me out — let me explain —”

“Explain what?” She lashed out through gritted teeth. “You should count your stars that you don’t have an attempted murder charge.”

Her heart thumped rather fast and would have been distressing had she not been controlled by anger. Everything was overshadowed by a grim penumbra sweeping over them, closing in on her and Black and it wasn’t because of the lack of light in the dingy closet.

She was revolted by him. Sick of seeing his sad face, moping around the hospital wing or looking at her or the other Marauders in yearning.

“Do you think I’ll care about what you want to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology not accepted, dipshit.”

His head bowed. “I deserved that.” “You think?”

“It’s just that —”

Her temper spiked to the highest level and her hand drifted to her back pocket and grazed the tip of her wand.

“I —”

Something in her snap. “Shut up. Shut up! Stop trying to defend yourself! Stop it! I don’t want to hear it!”

Black was visibly shutting down. “Please, just calm down…”

And then everything poured out.

“Calm down? Calm down?! I gave — I put my trust in you and you immediately ran with it, breaking it twice and then broke everyone else’s! How am I supposed to talk to you like everything’s okay? I get that you don’t like me, that you don’t like Snape, but really? What do you not understand?!”

He was nodding his head, taking it, never once trying to defend himself. His head hung similar to a child being scolded, hands curled around himself.

“You must have never cared for them.”

Black went oddly still. “That's a bold lie and you know that.”

“Do I?” She ridiculed. “Do you want to know the funny part? I was starting to care for you. Apparently, you never did.”

“That’s not true.”

There, a flicker of rage. Finally a reaction other than pathetic regret and guilt. Something cold crept into his eyes, hardening and entirely stormy and silver, reminding her of last year where they constantly fought. But then, it was washed away with a blink.

“I was nothing but a toy to you!”

“Y/N...”

“You. Never. Cared. About —”

“Stop it! Of course I —”

“— Me. Or. The. Other —”

“— fucking cared —”

“— Marauders —” “ — about you!”

Her eyes stung with bitter unshed, frustrated tears and her throat burned, constricting together. Emotions she hadn’t taken a moment to consider hit her within seconds and everything was too overwhelming.

The material of her shirt suddenly turned itchy. Her skin was too tight and she felt herself rock back and forth in a way to calm down.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer as it fell silent but she struck a nerve.

“Stop saying that!” He shouted. Now not breaking her stare and took a step forward.

“You’re fucking selfish. You betrayed them.” A step forward.

“You only cared about yourself.” Black shook his head. Another step forward.

“If you ever cared about me — about anyone else you’ve hurt — you wouldn’t have done… that.” A step forward.

They were the closest they had been in months. Their breaths were laboured and ragged. Being that close to him raised all the hairs on her neck in a way she used to love but now hated herself for.

The very notion made her nauseous. Disgusted.

She missed him. Truly. It was such a profound hurt and longing that ran deeper than wanting a quick snog or shag. But that was her problem that she was going to have to hide, bury in an air-sealed chest and throw away.

He opened his mouth and he leant forward inappreciably. But whatever words he was about to spew, he stopped himself. She could feel his breath fan her face, both of their chest raised and fell rapidly.

They stayed like that for a while and she held back from crying, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” He asked dejectedly.

Why did you have to be so stupid? We could’ve… you could’ve had everything.

Do you miss me?

Did you ever care, even a little?

“This time,” her voice was no louder than a rustle, “I mean it. I hate you. Truly.”

Lie.

Black gave her one last glance through heavy, desolate, half-lidded eyes, closing them shut. “Ti voglio bene.”

Her frown doubled, wondering if he mocked her. Why did he always do that?

“At least you’re consistent in one thing.”

She slipped out, her hand on the door and cracked it open, leaving him there.

“Being a fucking liar.”

She slammed the door shut with so much violence that it made a couple of bystanders passing by yelp and stare. The shattering of glass from within the closet echoed and it made her breathless.

She had to lean against the stone wall, her body buzzing and numb from the adrenaline.

Sometimes everything in her life seemed so… random. What if everything could have been avoided? One simple word, maybe if she said something different, or did something different, would the outcome have been better? Or worse?

What if she had two parents? What if she had been raised by a loving mother? Would she have been that hurt by his actions if opening up was less… impossible?

What ifs…

She stumbled her way to class mindlessly, horribly late. The floorboards creaked, cutting Slughorn off while she lurked in the doorway. The teacher’s head, along with everyone else in the room, snapped up.

Lily looked at her worriedly and concern was written in every inch of her face. James had a double-take and became alarmed while Marlene on the other side of the class looked around nervously.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No worries, m’girl!” Slughorn smiled. “Please, take the seat next to… Severus! Now, I was saying, I have a small tradition I’d like to do every year with my students.”

Y/N didn’t even interject; too drained after what happened and sat by Snape.

“Can anyone tell me what this is?” The professor held up a tiny bottle. “Or can anyone tell me what Felix Felicis is?”

Lily raised her hand, casting a concerned gaze to her before answering. From the corner of her eye, she could see Barty and Avery, along with a few other students whispering to each other as Lily spoke; all of them forcing down a smile. Y/N vaguely sensed herself prickle.

“It’s known as Liquid Luck. As the name suggests, it makes the drinker lucky.”

“Beautiful answer! Quite right! Ten points for Gryffindor! Now, whoever brews the Draught of Living Death the closest will win this prize at the end of this lesson. Off you go!”

The class was scurrying off quickly while she made her way around leisurely. Snape’s sopophorous bean had been hitting her multiple times.

“Would you fucking —” she grabbed the bean with her hands and threw it at Snape and he hissed at. “Just take your knife blade and squeeze it down on the side with your dagger.”

Snape scoffed. “That’s not going to work you d —”

Snape shut up immediately as she crushed the bean with a sharp knife and flicked the juice into the cauldron.

“Now stop hitting me or I’ll pour your potion on the ground.”

Snape’s attention wasn’t on her, instead of trying to decipher her scribbles before taking her book away from his eyesight. She hit him with her book.

She completed the rest of the potion with ease. Snape was nearly done with his potion, she could tell he was on the right path before Slughorn sauntered around the classroom to observe the students. At James’ cauldron, he made no comment but instead helped stir his potion. Lily was given an approving nod, announcing to the class that she earned Gryffindor a few house points until making his way over to their table, peering into the cauldrons. At Snape’s concoction, he gave a bright smile and opened his mouth until he saw hers and a look of pure delight spread over him, his hands clapping together.

“Oho! Excellent! Miss L/N has done it! We have our winner!”

A small round of claps went around meanwhile James and Marlene cheered loudly, effectively embarrassing her.

“Show off,” Snape sneered. She ignored him.

Once the bell rang, Slughorn called her over to collect her vial of Liquid Luck. She slipped the bottle into her pocket for safekeeping.

But before she left, she stopped and spun around. “Professor Slughorn?”

“Yes?”

“I read in my Advanced Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, but I found that there’s no Potion to help Werewolves. I was wondering if that’s still true? I know books can be outdated.”

Slughorn gave her a pensive look. “I think that’s a matter for Madam Pomfrey. Is there a reason why?”

“It’s just —” She made up a lie quickly. “I’m nervous about NEWTs and how I’ll do in my studies and it’s merely an interest.”

“Oh, my girl! You are excellent. By far one of the best students I’ve ever had. You don’t need to worry!” Slughorn cheered. Slughorn seemed genuine and she smiled at the praise. “And for your question, no. Sadly there isn’t.”

“At all?”

Slughorn thought for a while. “If I recall, there have been recent developments with stewed Mandrakes. It’s rumoured to help lycanthrope individuals ease their way back into the original human state.”

Y/N stored the newfound information in her head. She thanked him, turning to leave until calling out again. Slughorn twirled his head.

“I was wondering if I could practice more — like I said, I‘m nervous about my NEWTs.”

There wasn’t even a delay and Slughorn beamed. “Of course! As long as you clean up after yourself, you may come and go as you please. I’ll make sure to leave the doors open until curfew.

“Oh! I’m planning to host another Slugclub dinner soon, I expect you to be there?”

“... Of course, sir.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

【 Next Chapter 】

Translations:

Tesoro mio = My treasure or 'honey'

Ti voglio bene = 'I love you' but its not like what you think. It's more of an unconditional and selfless love that means 'I want you to be well.' It places an emphasis on the tender and affectionate feelings you have for the other person. It's the safer option to say to your significant other if it's a very new relationship.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

© gotkindabored 2021. Do not repost or modify

[mamaredd123]

“Shred Some Hearts” Master List

Here’s the complete list of super angsty, rip your heart straight out of your chest and then shred it into a trillion pieces, make you drown in rivers of your own tears, fics.

I can’t thank everyone enough for joining my challenge. I was moved, pissed off, depressed, sad, angry through each and every one of them (of course, all in a good way!!). You all deserve awards for writing such heart break and making the Shred Some Hearts Challenge a sucess!

Come celebrate Angst Appreciation Day that our lovely @percywinchester27 and @thing-you-do-with-that-thing have hosted. Come celebrate all these wonderful fics and make sure to bring a case of Kleenex!!!

And please, for the love of all that is sacred, leave some feedback for these writers!!!! Tell them how much they hurt you, made you cry, tore your heart apart! As a fellow angst writer (or a wanna be angst writer) I relish in the comments when y’all tell me how much the fic moved you or how it made you feel. I know, for me, that is the ultimate inspiration to keep writing!

@ithinkimadorable-67      Even If

@revwinchester    Dean’s Note

@hannahindie    Hard To Say I’m Sorry

@winchesterhunters67   Now or Never

@relmi-llorrac    Watch the pieces fall 

@kael-the-author    The End Of The Line

@wi-deangirl77   Tin Man

@authoressskr   It Ain’t Me

@marvelbase001   It's Always Been You

@katymacsupernatural    Scared To Be Lonely

@docharleythegeekqueen    What You Lost

@deanandsamsbitch     Grenade

@demondeanismybaby      Those Eyes

@roxy-davenport       Better Now

@wordstothewisereaders     Even If

@mamaredd123     You Might Be Sorry

@skyewrites-maybe  ( @youre-my-grxvity )     Grenade

@evansrogerskitten   Like I’m Living

@crowleysdemonknight      Failure

@samanddeanssiren    Here Without You

@hollygopossum    Swept Away (part 1)

@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    Stay

Thank you all for joining and writing such heartbreak!! You all rock!!!!!!! 

[hayleyb100]

The Misconstruction

It was an uneasy day. 3 days passed from when Aliyah promised to come home from Crown Tundra, but she did not. She may be passionate and outgoing, but she was considerate enough to call when she thinks she will be late. So I started to feel anxiety twinging from within.

"Where's mama, daddy?" Raihan asked in frustration. It was not a surprising question, as my wife was a superhero and role model to my dear son. Raihan was working on his new battle tactics that he was willing to show his mother when she returned.

"I am not sure, dear." I shook my head. How I wish I could tell him.

Just then, the phone rang. I was certain it was Aliyah, but to the great disappointment, it was an unknown number.

"Hello...?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Richard?" an extremely depressed voice came through the phone.

"Yes, I am. How may I help you?"

"Well... It's about your wife Aliyah." that person took a deep breath and continued.

"She went missing in the snowy mountain."

That was as far as I could hear. No, it cannot be. An ominous atmosphere engulfed me and my whole body trembled like a dry leaf. I immediately tried to go there to look for Aliyah after leaving Raihan with my parents, but they detained me by the sleeve. They freaked out saying there is no way my lungs will withstand the coldness of the Tundra. They told me to calm down and wait out, as Aliyah is a strong person who can survive even in an extreme environment. And so I did since I might scare my son if I get flustered.

But...

Aliyah and I reunited in a mortuary.

"I won't forgive you if you pass away before me! Promise we will pass away at the same time, same date, and same year! You copy me, Richard?!"

That is what she said to me. Since I was so sickly, she was always worried if I would pass away before her.

Then... How did this happen?

I felt numb upon the cruel reality. Even when I tried to turn away from reality, the wedding ring I shared with Aliyah screamed that it was a truth. With shivering hands, I held her icy hand close. It hurt so much, as Aliyah was the one who always warmed up my hands.

"No, don't!! Don't let them bury mama!!"

A few days later, Raihan yelled desperately while I held him back and people buried Aliyah. Raihan fought throughout the whole funeral to go to Aliyah, so I had to stop him. I restrained my tears with everything I have got because I know that Raihan will crash when I start crying as well. It felt like tearing my heart to see my wife get buried while my son weeps, but there was no other way.

After a long day of sheer torture, I came home with Raihan. It was clear that he was worn out after all that fight we had.

"Raihan..."

I gently called him. I wanted to do anything to calm my boy, but Raihan refused to give me an eye-contact.

"Raihan, please look at me, dear..."

I called him once more, but Raihan snapped while still avoiding my eyes.

"Why did mama die?"

The question completely caught me off guard. But I tried to keep calm and explain it as much as possible as I stroke his cheeks.

"Honey, it was... It was an unfortunate accident. Mom was caught in a natural disaster and..."

"Liar!" Raihan cried, shaking off my hands.

"Liar, liar, liar! Mama is tough!! She never dies in a stupid natural disaster!! She can beat anything! She... She's the strongest person out there!!"

"I, I know, darling, but..."

I had to pant a little. My chest felt like it was tightening up, and I was starting to lose breath again. I could not believe I was at loss of words, despite I am a father. I should comfort my son. He must be terrified. But my silly mouth did not know what to say. I hated myself.

"Bring her back, bring her back!!" Raihan started to pound my chest with rage.

"...Raihan, somethings cannot be changed."

"No!! You should have!!"

I gasped and looked up.

"...Excuse me?"

"You could have saved her, right?? Why didn't you?!"

"I..."

I could not believe what I was hearing from my son. And while I was stammering in complete perplexity, Raihan shouted.

"It's because you're WEAK, right?!"

SLAP

Human beings are so strange. They despise when someone hits their head with the nail. Sadly, that is exactly what happened to me - an embarrassing father who hurt his child when he was in fear, depression, and sorrow. I should guide him out of the darkness, but I pushed him deeper into the cavern of despair instead.

"R... Raihan..."

".........."

Raihan wiped his cheek off with his hand and glared at me like never before. His eyes were burning with hatred.

"...I hate you."

Those words just shred my heart.

"I'll never be a weakling or coward like you. I'm going to be the strongest person and trainer Galar has ever seen so that I can protect who is precious to me."

After gushing out those painful words, Raihan ran into his room and locked the door.

"Raihan, wait...!"

I never once hated myself for being born with a sickly body thanks to all the love, support, and trust my parents gave me. 

But now...

I absolutely detest myself.

Raihan was right. I am weak. Weak both physically and mentally.

I could not save the love of my life due to this useless body, and could not soothe my son when he needed it the most. I felt like someone was ripping out my heart. It was as if my whole existence is denied, both as husband and father. I had to bury my face in my knees while crouching on the floor and wept silently alone for a long, long time.

________________________________

Ever since that incident, Raihan never talked to me. He avoided seeing my eyes and getting into contact at all costs. It hurt, but I endured it. One mistake is enough. I will not make the same mistake of gushing out my foul emotions to my boy. And besides, Raihan is the one who is the most painful here. I can handle it. I have to, for the sake of Aliyah. She must be feeling awfully sorry for leaving our son so suddenly and unprepared. I have to protect Raihan. I constantly smiled and tried to apologize to Raihan in hopes to get our relationship back.

But perhaps it was just a one-sided wish. For two whole years, Raihan never talked to me until he turned 10 and set off his journey. I honestly was very uneasy when my son was setting off on a journey in the thought of putting him in danger as well, but I was glad on the other hand because my boy was healthy enough to enjoy the journey that I could not.

"Did you forget anything, dear?"

No answer.

Raihan wore his shoes to finally depart. Until that moment, I hesitated to say it. But I thought if I do not say it now, I might never get a chance.

"...Raihan. I am... I am sorry about what I did when your mother passed away..."

Raihan still did not look back. He just tightened his shoelaces and walked out. 

I bid him goodbye one last time with a gentle grin. He did not reply to the end, but it was alright. I knew he would thrive. He has his mother in him, who is the fighter.

________________________________

Years passed and now Raihan is a young man who is addressed as the strongest Gym Leader out there in Galar. I could not be more proud of my boy. I followed every step of his gym challenges through newspapers and televisions and scrapped it. 

I cheered him on with my whole heart. Even after he became a Gym Leader, I never missed his battle. Sadly, I could not watch it in the stadium. Raihan would get distracted by my presence. But still, keep all the records safely in the scrapbooks.

I also sent handwritten letters to him ever since he set off his journey. I knew he would never pick up his phone since he did not want to hear my voice, but I still had to prove my love somehow. I sent the letters that would cheer him up when he lost a battle, the letters that would encourage him when he is doing well, and the letter saying how proud I was to have such a determined son. The letters also contained how much I wish to apologize and how much I miss him. And... How much I still love him. 

I never got any replies from any of the letters yet, but I hoped that my mind would reach him.

[thxlassophile]

🍬 + 😡 + 🌼 + 🏡

rue wants me to talk about moroha!

send 🍬 for a family headcanon

if you’ve read any of my writing, then it goes without saying but when moroha talks about her family? she means her WHOLE family - yes, her parents take top of mind and will always come first to her. but there’s her uncle and her two cousins too, and all the higuarshis in the modern era. there’s shippo, her adoptive older brother who taught her all his best tricks. AND there’s her uncle miroku and aunt sango, uncle kohaku, and her three human cousins. not to mention kaede, who always filled the role of grandmother that circumstance had stolen from her two biological ones.

moroha’s family is HUGE, and she likes it that way. hell, to be honest she kind of needs it to be that way - she’s got so much energy that more than half the family is exhausted by her at any given moment, so she’s gotta go find someone who isn’t. but they’re ALL important to her, and trying to divide them into different groups because of blood bonds vs bonds of love feels archaic and stupid. 

her brother is her brother, shared bloodline or not. her cousins are her cousins, no matter their species. and anyone who tries to challenge that can meet the business end of her SWORD.

send 😡 for an anger headcanon

oof, what a prompt for a HOT HEAD like her. 

wanna know a quick way to make her BOIL OVER? call her short. when it comes to just about everything else you could insult her with, she knows she has a chance to prove you WRONG - that quarter demons aren’t weak, that she’s not an idiot, that she can do something, that it isn’t impossible, that she will be the victor. 

but ... she IS short. nothing to be done about that. and it drives her fucking INSANE.

send 🌼 for a happiness headcanon

nothing makes moroha as happy as fast as FOOD. screw the whole dainty daughters thing, she’s more of a bottomless pit. she loves ninja food, just like her dad, but honestly anything with plenty of spices that’s nice and warm is GOOD in her books. she’s got zero table manners and an appetite built for someone twice her size, but hey - can’t fault a girl for knowing what she likes. 

send 🏡 for a home headcanon

this is cheating but idgaf this is my page and i can CHEAT if i wanna

when moroha is old enough to begin traveling alone with her cousins on adventures of their own, she makes herself a necklace and hides it under her robes. The ‘chain’ is two braided strips of fabric - scraps from INUYASHA’S robe of the fire rat (which she took the last time he’d gotten it torn to shreds in a battle and mama had to stitch it back together) and the hem from the skirt KAGOME was wearing the day she returned from the future for good. she’s got her grandmother’s rouge hanging from the center of it, so she can keep it closer to her heart and feel like wherever she goes? her parents, her HOME, is there with her.

[howfarethestars]

All That is Due (Will be Due in Due Time) 

read on AO3 

Thor’s nursery had a wide, circular window on the far wall that bathed the room in sunlight during the day and moonlight during the night. Creamy white curtains framed the edges, giving the room a heavenly glow. It had been Frigga to request it. She had always preferred natural light, she felt it connected indoors and out in a way nothing else really could. 

She was with him there now, under that same window. Frigga watched, a smile dancing on her lips, as Thor toddled across the floor in front of her. She sat with her legs thrown out beside her, the flowing blue fabric of her dress pooled around her leg as if it were liquid. Her son giggled as he stumbled towards her. He reached out with chubby arms and fingers. Frigga’s hands met his. Thor gripped her fingers as tight as he could manage. 

“Mama,” he said, bright eyes trained on his mother’s face. A toothy smile lit up his sweet face. In fact, Frigga was hard pressed to remember a time when her boy wore a frown. “Up?”

Frigga obliged him and lifted him into her arms. Pressing him against her chest, she wrapped him in her embrace. Her slim fingers threaded through his blonde curls. Her eyes drifted shut as she idly hummed an old shanty she knew from days she could not quite remember. Her fingers stilled, and her voice fell when she felt magic buzz in the air. She tilted her head. Thor was young to have such a strong seidr, was she sensing something else? Someone else? 

With Thor still nestled in her arms, she prodded the energy. Her brows furrowed deeper. It was Thor’s seidr she felt. The power was so similar to her own. It was more…rambunctious than that of the queen’s, more wild. Untamed like the lightning she knew Thor would one day command. But underneath all that there was a calm—the steady pulse of seer abilities. 

Frigga smiled to herself. Her golden boy, a seer. Odin wouldn’t be thrilled, no, but she was. Oh, she was. It was no matter what her husband would say or think. She would just have to convince him that Thor’s abilities would only help him and Asgard, not harm them. So long as Thor was able to grow in his abilities, he would be safe. Frigga shuddered to think what would happen if Thor’s powers went unchecked, untrained. But she wouldn’t let that happen, no. She would train him and keep his powers from hurting him or others. 

She hoisted Thor over her head. “Ha! My boy,” she said, bringing him down to kiss his cheek, “you’re going to be such a great seer. I know it. I feel it.”

Thor giggled again, just happy that his mum was tossing him about. His hair a halo around his head with the sun beaming down on it, Thor plopped his hands on his mother’s cheeks, delighting in the squish against his fingers. Frigga pressed her lips to his curls. The joy in her chest bubbled like champagne. 

There that joy stayed, unmovable, lodged in her chest, until the news crossed her lips to Odin’s ears. 

She might as well have told him Thor had pledged his loyalty to Laufey himself. 

The throne room was silent save for the thunderous pounding of Frigga’s heart in her chest. The sliver of light that lived in the Allfather’s eyes burned out. Anxiety twisted like a dagger in Frigga’s belly. Odin hadn’t yet spoken a word, and still Frigga felt the need to protect Thor. 

“Thor will not practice anything but battle,” Odin barked, his voice like a sharp breeze. In a flash, he was on his feet and heading down the stairs of the throne room to stand in front of his wife. He grabbed Frigga’s wrists and squeezed just a little too tight. “I’ll see to it.” 

Chills swept over the all-mother’s arms as Odin pushed past her. But, she would not stand frozen. She rushed after her husband, her arms outstretched in a vain attempt to stop him. With a flick of the king’s wrist, two guards stepped in front of the exit, blocking Frigga’s way out of the throne room. 

Tears stung her eyes as she thrashed in their arms. “Let me go, I demand it!” she shouted, beating her fists against the impenetrable armor of the guards. 

Odin disappeared down a corridor, far from Frigga’s reach and sight. The queen slumped to the ground, her cheeks wet, hands shaking and bruised. Physically, Thor was out of her reach, but maybe not magically. She shut her eyes and called on her seidr. Frigga was a powerful witch, but not powerful enough to stop Odin entirely. She could, however, weaken his spell so that one day Thor’s powers might return to him. 

The guards, loyal to the king but sympathetic to the queen, stood by without challenge when Frigga’s hands started to glow. She whispered spells in her native language, letting her seidr flow through the air to where Thor played with his nanny. 

“I’m sorry I could not do more, my son,” Frigga cried, her voice hoarse and quiet. 

“I can only hope you one day find your abilities on your own.” 

A millennia later… 

The quinjet was the height of luxury, top of the line, the most advanced aircraft Midgard had to offer. Or so Thor was told. It seemed crowded to him. Maybe it was because the Avengers were so tightly packed into the small area outside the cockpit. Thor longed for a bit of solitude, even if it meant hiding in the restroom for hours on end. Thor was considering it, actually. He turned his gaze to the little room in the corner, then back to his teammates. 

Bruce was lying on the floor shivering despite the loose sweatshirt he wore, Natasha was sitting with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped tight around her shins, her eyes far away and clouded with tears, Steve paced the short distance from wall to wall, wringing his hands together. 

So much pain. So, so cramped. 

Thor took a gulp of oxygen and rushed to the bathroom. A hoard of buzzing insects swarmed under his skin and in his head and across his vision. His whole body was on fire. He leaned against the sink, his hands gripping the sides hard enough to bend the metal. 

This was that witch’s doing, Thor guessed. Her powers had done this to him. But no one else seemed to be so affected. Perhaps he was cursed. He looked up at his reflection. He didn’t look cursed. What does one look like when cursed? 

Turning on the faucet, Thor sighed. He dipped his hands under the cool water and splashed it on his face. It didn’t do anything more than soak the front of his uniform. His whole body was still abuzz. 

Three short knocks came in rapid succession at the door. 

“You okay, Thor?” Steve asked, his voice muffled. 

Thor stepped back, dragging his hands down his face. “I’m fine,” he lied, staring at himself in the mirror again. He was shaking from head to toe, sweating bullets, looking like he could collapse at any second. “I’m coming out now.”

There was a shuffle behind the door; Steve stepping away, Thor guessed. Pulling himself together as best he could, he opened the door. Steve’s arms were folded over his chest, his brows drawn, his lips pursed. 

Thor flashed a shaky smile. “Did you need something?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay,” Steve replied smoothly, “You don't look okay.” 

Thor’s face fell. There was no fooling the captain, it seemed. “I’m sure it’s just a side effect,” he said, shrugging. 

Steve’s face twisted in confusion. “What’s a side effect?”

“The shaking...are the rest of you not shaking as well?” 

Steve grabbed Thor’s wrist and lifted his hand up to his face. It trembled still, even locked in Steve’s grip. Worry swooped in Thor’s belly. “Thor, how long have you been like this?” 

“Since the witch attacked us.” Thor tugged his hand away from Steve and wrapped his arms around his middle. Heat rushed to his cheeks, but not from embarrassment. Fever, maybe? “Is it hot in here?” 

“No,” Steve said flatly. “When we get to the safe house, you need to be checked out.”

Thor gave a hearty chuckle, the kind to make the vikings of old proud. “It’ll pass, Steve. I’ll be f—“

A blizzard flashed across Thor’s vision. Whatever forces holding him up vacated the quinjet, and he collapsed. Steve yelped, struggling under the sudden weight of a thunder god. His boots slipped back, but he righted himself. 

“Tony!” Steve shouted, “Come quick!”

Tony appeared in the corridor in a flash, his eyes wide. “What happened?”

Thor wondered the same thing. His vision grew steadily worse, clear sharp imagery faded to a blurred reflection of reality. There was an invader in his mind, clawing Thor’s control to shreds. Something wished to take over as desperately as Thor wished to hold on. 

His gaze turned up to Steve, but instead of finding the captain staring back, an entirely different scene appeared before him. 

The sky exploded above him, white hot flames and metal shattered the quiet calm above the alps. The air, once cold with altitude, was a furnace on Thor’s skin. It burned, Thor screamed. Shrapnel, rocks, dirt, cement fell around him. Thor tumbled from the sky like Icarus. Unconsciousness settled in on him. What had he done? 

The vision was over just as abruptly as it began. Steve and Tony hovered over Thor once more. The former gently lowered Thor to the floor. Thor’s head lolled to the side, his flushed cheek pressing against the cool metal. His vision was blurry, head swimming, and limbs useless. He managed shallow and shaky breaths but little more. 

Tony cupped the back of his head, his thumb gently massaging Thor’s temples as Steve rummaged through a bright red medpack at his side. Thor shut his eyes, focused on breathing. He saw destruction, death, last resorts. A whimper escaped his lips. 

“No,” he mumbled, his brows drawn. Tony shushed him, then told something to Steve. Thor couldn’t even hear. Those images, they matched onto his soul,siphoning his strength and sanity with reckless abandon. “No, please, no.”

A sharp prick in his arm, a drug that could fell a full sized bull flooded his veins. Thor didn’t struggle. The shaking didn’t stop until darkness replaced the visions in his mind. The sky fell in shards around Thor as he collapsed to the ground. He saw Steve above him, and then flames licking at the clouds, and then nothing. 

…

Electric blue lightning clouded his vision. Shouts echoed in the air, but Thor paid them no mind. Mjolnir slammed into the metal beneath him, charging the chamber with unmatched power. Something lied below the chamber with crimson skin and a jewel embedded in its forehead. Thor looked up to see his teammates, joined by the witch and a boy with silver hair, staring in horror at what he’d done. Tony looked shocked but not as angry as the rest. He stared, not at Thor, but what Thor had created. Despite the team’s stares of indignation and anger, Thor felt zero remorse. Light burst from the chamber, and—

Thor awoke with a startled gasp. His breath caught in his throat as the vision shook him loose. The scene melted around him, revealing an unfamiliar room with soft pink walls filled with late golden afternoon light. His brows furrowed. Confusion replaced terror. He turned his head. Tony sat slumped in a chair beside the bed, snoring softly, looking a few seconds away from falling to the floor. 

Thor sat in silence, in thought. The sun was warm on his skin, despite the chill in his soul. He was plagued by visions of haunting futures. He wished with everything in him that these visions were simply tricks by an evil sorceress. But, deep down, Thor knew they were not. They were real, tangible, unchanging promises of what was to come. 

Thor remembered his mother well. Her laugh, her smile, the way it felt to be held in her comforting embrace. His mother had been a seer, one of powerful Venir ancestry. While her power was more often used in solitude, when war might come or when other threats awaited Asgard.

But Thor remembered one instance. He’d been small, though he couldn’t recall his exact age. His mother had a vision. Her whole body had gone stiff, her skin was cold, her eyes were glassy. It had frightened Thor deeply, to see her space out the way she had. The way she looked at him after it passed frightened him deeper still. He wondered now if she’d seen his future, perhaps her own. 

Maybe she’d seen this exact moment, of her son contemplating his own abilities. Maybe she’d seen what would come after. Maybe she’d seen something else, something more terrifying than this moment or any of the ones that had come before. Thor shuddered to think of it. To think he’d inherited her terrible, beautiful curse of a power. 

But though he feared it, he knew that he had. The power lived in him, buzzing under his skin, pulsing in his veins. As foreign as the power felt, Thor knew it was just unsettled. For whatever reason, Thor had not shown the abilities early. 

Wait. 

The witch. Her powers. Whatever she’d done, it unleashed Thor’s own abilities. Thor swallowed thickly, a frown on his lips. He’d heard of magic being bound before, but normally for small children who couldn’t control it yet. If his own magic had been bound, too, then that begged countless questions. If Thor’s abilities had been repressed, who had repressed them? And more importantly—why? 

Thor could’ve sat on that bed for hours had Tony not woken. A little indignant noise made its way from his throat, like he was annoyed with himself for waking up. His big brown eyes popped open, and he stretched his whole body like a cat, arms raised over his head and toes pointed as straight as a ballerina’s. 

“You’re up, I see,” Tony commented as he retracted back into himself. “Feeling better?”

“I had another vision,” Thor said instead of answering the question. “I saw you in it.”

Tony straightened in his seat. “Oh, yeah?” he asked casually, but Thor heard the slightest waiver in his voice. 

“Nothing bad,” Thor said, shaking his head. He shifted in the bed, pulling his knees close to his chest. “I believe we had made something together.” 

“Like an arts and crafts type deal?”

“Like...a weapon.”

“Oh, lovely.”

Thor ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t describe what I saw, not well. It was cloudy, fuzzy. But you were there. All I know…” Thor sighed, “Whatever I did. Whatever we did. I didn't regret it. Even though the team didn’t seem thrilled about it.”

Tony was quiet for a moment. Thor didn’t press him. It would’ve been strange to be told you were a part of some future you had no control over. So Thor let Tony think. After a while, Thor guessed Tony was not going to speak, so he changed the subject. 

“Where are we, anyway?” Thor asked, glancing out of the window above the bed he’d woken in. Beyond it there was a bright green landscape of long grass and wildflowers. Goats grazed in a pen beside a faded red barn. A farm, then. But who…

“Clint’s brother’s farmhouse,” Tony explained, though it wasn’t much of an explanation since it only raised more questions. Tony was a smart man, though, and he answered Thor’s next question before it had even crossed his lips. “No, I didn’t know Clint had a brother either. And no, I don’t fully trust the guy. But here we are in his house, and I don’t think we’ve got room to complain.”

Thor hummed. “Does Clint’s secret brother have food on his secret farm?” 

“He does indeed.”

…

The following days passed in a blur. Thor fought through his waking hours to not succumb to his uncontrollable powers, and tossed and turned through the night when he couldn’t stop the visions from coming. He helped the team as best he could with planning their upcoming battle, and forced himself to ignore what his visions told him about the future. They did not need to know every detail of how the young quickster would die, nor did they need to know that Nick Fury would be their surprise savior in the end. Thor lied and told them that his visions were hard to understand and not worth examining. It shut them up, at least. 

The battle came. Thor’s many visions came to fruition. Ultron was defeated and the team regrouped and settled in at the new compound. Tony offered Thor a room, but Thor declined with a promise to return whenever he could. With a sharp crack of thunder and an explosion of color, Thor left Midgard and headed to Asgard, where he could find his long-awaited answers. 

“Heimdall!” Thor shouted before the warm glow of the bifrost had even died around him. He rushed towards the gatekeeper, his arms open wide. Heimdall locked him in a tight embrace. Thor felt as if he were a young child again, finding comfort in Heimdall’s presence after his tutor was too boring or Odin had scolded him too harshly. “I’m so happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, as well. At least in person, anyway,” Heimdall laughed. His eyes softened as he took in Thor’s weary appearance. “We have much to discuss.”

Thor‘s face fell. The air shifted; the reunion was no longer as happy. “Aye. We do.”

Heimdall and Thor turned towards the rainbow bridge and Asgard beyond it. Shivers ran down Thor’s spine. Hard as he’d fought to ignore them, Thor still had to blink away the visions he’d seen of his beloved home up in flames. He saw the pristine bifrost beneath his boots turn blood splattered and cracked, he saw the distant golden palace fall to fire and ash. 

Thor shook his head, pulling his focus back to the present. He desperately hoped that Heimdall would have answers for him, ones that meant the visions he’d seen were just his imagination, that there was nothing to fret about. But even as he thought it, he knew that it was wishful thinking. Half of his visions had already come true: Sokovia’s destruction, Vision’s creation, and on and on. This was his life now. His abilities had been unlocked. Wild and uncontrolled as they were, they were his. He would have to take them and adjust to them just as he would to anything else. 

“I must warn you, Thor,” Heimdall said, breaking Thor’s rather dark train of thought, “The Allfather will not be pleased with your rediscovered abilities. It will be wise to avoid him, if possible.”

Thor nodded. He’d already guessed as such. His father, though he was sensitive to Seidr himself, did not look fondly on magic users. He much preferred battles of blade or fist to those of spell or potion. Thor had once been like him, but time had much changed the prince. He now saw the value of magic—his own and others’. 

“Noted. How has Asgard been, then? With the...affairs and such.” 

Heimdall stopped. The action itself demanded Thor to stop alongside him. Thor’s words died on his lips as a calm hush fell over the two men. They stood in the middle of bifrost, a sharp wind billowed their capes and hair, the sea below them crashed and made hearing difficult. Heimdall spoke nonetheless. 

“Thor, we’ve known each other for too long for small talk. I know why you’re here.” Heimdall shifted his weight and folded his arms over his chest. “You want answers.”

Thor nodded. “I do.” 

“The answers you seek will not be easy to hear. Your magic was bound for reasons that won’t be easy to explain. Do you understand?”  

Thor’s stomach clenched, but he agreed nonetheless. “I do.”

“Then let’s go somewhere we will not be heard.”

…

The deepest vaults of Asgard’s libraries had likely not been touched in centuries. A thick layer of dust, cobwebs, and dead insects coated the tables and shelves of the abandoned study. Thor grimaced at the sight. Heimdall didn’t flinch. He moved through the freezing halls with precision and decidedness. 

“This study was not always abandoned,” Heimdall began. An air of solemnity fell over his face, his tone shifted from conversational to something much more serious. “It was once home to the royal sorcerer. Can you feel the seidr in the air, boy?”

Thor paused. He let his eyes drift shut, his mind clear, and yes, there it was. Pulsing steady underneath the age and decay. Magic. Thor’s eyes popped back open, and he grinned. 

“I felt it,” he said, as excited as a young boy being presented a gift, “I felt it, Heimdall.”

Heimdall’s smile was brief. “Odin decided the sorcerer was unnecessary, and banished him from the palace,” he continued. He walked to the back of the room, where a bookshelf, loaded so that the wood had begun to bow in the middle, stood. His eyes roamed the shelf, his fingers running gently over the spines. He pulled back the thickest book, and the bookshelf spun to reveal a hidden room. This time, the room did not appear abandoned. The seidr pulsed as loud and present as a heartbeat. Eternally burning torches cast long shadows on the small room. In the middle of the room, there was a soul forge, much like the one the sorceresses used, but different in a way Thor couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“It was crafted for Bor himself,” Heimdall explained, brushing his hand over the cool stone of the top. He looked back at Thor. “It works only for those of his bloodline.”

Thor stepped forward. “Right, well,” he said, his voice shaky. The bookshelf slammed shut, and he jumped a foot into the air, muscles taunt, breathing heavy. 

Heimdall chuckled. “Relax, Thor,” he said, squeezing his shoulder, “Have a seat. I’ll explain everything.”

Eyeing the bookshelf warily, Thor made his way to the soul forge and sat on its edge. Heimdall rested his weight against a table top across from Thor. For a second, neither spoke, then Heimdall cleared his throat and began to give Thor the answers he wanted. He told him of Frigga’s elation at discovering a young Thor’s abilities, of the excitement that Heimdall hadn’t needed Allsight to see. Thor smiled at that, even though tears stung his eyes. Anger quickly replaced that bittersweet warmth in his chest when Heimdall explained how Odin had taken Thor’s abilities, despite Frigga’s demands. 

Anger flashed in Thor’s eyes. He slid off the soul forge and slammed to the floor. Fists clenched at his sides, he growled, “Where is he?” 

“Calm down,” Heimdall ordered, his hands outstretched in front of his chest to stop Thor if he needed to. Thor was wound up like a spring, with fury coursing through his veins. Heimdall pressed his hands against the prince’s chest, forcing him back to the forge. “I know you’re angry, but going up there now with your magic so unstable and dangerous would only prove Odin’s point.”

Thor felt himself deflate. His anger simmered and fall flat. Heimdall was right, and Thor told him as such. He sat back on the soul forge, letting his feet dangle over the edge. “What should we do, then? How do I control my…”

Thor’s voice broke off. The warmth in his cheeks drained, and chills swept over his arms. He cursed as his body began to tremble. He turned tired, scared eyes to Heimdall, who rushed to his side. 

“Breathe, Thor,” Heimdall said, guiding him down against the soul forge, “Just breathe.”

Thor did that, focusing on inhaling and exhaling and not on his complete physical discomfort. Over the past few days, Thor had taken to letting the premonitions come as they like instead of fighting them. No matter how deeply they terrified him or how desperately he wanted to avoid what they entailed, it was less painful to submit. 

He slipped into lucidity, resting on the edge of conscious and unconscious. He was only just aware of Heimdall powering up the soul forge before his vision pulled him completely under, and he lost touch with the present. 

The infinity stones again, this time drawn with a cartographer’s precise hand. They were painted nicely, the colors not as faded by time as the other maps Thor had come across. Sadly, Thor was not evaluating the map for beauty, he needed it for legitimacy. In his search for the infinity stones, he’d come across countless false maps. This one was promising, though. It had the locations of the mind, space, and reality stones correct. The power stone, it claimed, was being held on Xandar. If true, Thor didn’t have to worry about that one. The soul stone’s location was listed simply as unknown. Thor slid it back to the merchant and shook his head. 

Thor returned with a sharp gasp. His heart beat erratically in his chest, but one look at Heimdall’s calm and focused expression, and he felt his nerves calm. His apt fingers shifted matter above Thor’s head. 

“You alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Exhaling long and slow, Thor reached up and ran his hands over his face.He lay there for a moment, washed in the soft amber glow of the energy that swam above him, thinking that the color reminded him of Heimdall’s eyes. Heimdall didn’t bother him. Instead, he worked in silence, poking and prodding at the light. Thor was grateful for the momentary reprieve. 

“I’ve never understood how these things work,” Thor said after he’d recovered, “Are you...reading all that?”

Heimdall smiled. “I’m examining your seidr,” he explained. He pointed to a strand of mist that wasn’t orange like the rest, but instead an electric blue. “That’s your ability to summon lightning. And this grey bit is weather manipulation.”

“What’s my seer abilities, then?”

Heimdall moved the mist around a bit, then revealed a shifting mass of deep red, angry magic. Thor’s eyes widened at the sight. His heart plummeted. The crimson energy infested everything around it, violently turning the warm and gentle orange to furious garnet. 

“This is what uncontrolled magic does to your soul,” Heimdall almost whispered,  “You’ve never had the time to learn the limits of your magic. You don’t know how to control it, which is why it so violently takes effect.”

Thor swallowed the lump in his throat. Fear pooled in the pit of his belly like lead. His voice wavered when he spoke, “Am I going to be okay?”

Heimdall powered down the forge. He took his time. With slow, precise motion, he took Thor’s hands in his. “I promise you, you’re going to be just fine. Even I know that, and I can’t see the future.”

Emotion bubbled up in Thor’s chest. He sat up and fell into Heimdall’s arms as he lost the fight to keep from crying. Face buried in Heimdall’s shoulder, Thor felt himself relax for the first time since his power had been awakened. He took a shaky breath, and shut his eyes. 

And, he noticed with a smile, he only saw darkness. 

[windup-dragoon]

【Ｏｍｅｎ】

30 Day WOL Challenge 

I’m really late to this party, oof. But the idea abruptly came to me and I just had to use the word omen. 

Prompt list here 

Tiny fingers searched for purchase on his jacket. She clawed and reached. A scrap, a frayed thread, a shred of fabric. Anything. All she needed was something tangible. Something real. To know he existed and not simply in her memories as he had threatened. 

“Papa...” A whimper, a plea from a frail little voice. Tears welled in her ruby eyes and burned streaks down her plump cheeks. 

Her cry was met with a dismissive snort and a guttural snarl. The towering figure she so desperately clung to brushed her off as if an unwanted fly to decaying fruit. 

“Get’cha grubby hands off me,” A growl. 

“W-Why’re ya’ leavin’, Papa?” Her small voice broke like glass, peppered with hiccups. She couldn’t stop the tears, even if she tried. It was all too much for her innocent mind to understand. Was he not delighted to have another daughter? Would he not miss his family? Miss her? What about Mama? He had left her weeping over her newly born sister. How could he break her heart like that? 

“Lani, yer too young ta’ understand.” 

“No! That’s stupid! Tell me!!” 

Another snarl gurgled in his throat. The Roe whirled on his heel, frightening the small child with his quickness. And the hatred that filled his glare, looking down at her over the bridge of his nose. 

“Hells, Lani, you wanna know so badly?! That sister o’ yers! She’s a curse on our family! It’s an ill omen ta’ have different colored eyes! And I ain’t stickin’ ‘round for that rotten creature to curse me! We should’a left it in a ditch!” 

Tears poured down the crests of her cheeks as her father stormed out the door. It slammed shut behind him, leaving her in a cold darkness. 

“Kilika is... bad?” 

When she had first seen her sister, she couldn’t contain her own happiness. Her joy. She would have a friend in the world! Oh the things she would teach her! They would hunt frogs together! Explore the hills and mountains and any forests they came across! They could have been unstoppable. 

But now, seeing her mother cradling the small bundle, using the knitted blanket she had helped make, her heart felt distant. Cold. Her sister, with mismatched eyes of crimson and cobalt... 

What an omen indeed. 

[morbid-n-macabre]

Mountain City, Tennessee

2005-

For a lot of people social media simply enhances their lives, they don't take it too personally; Jenelle Potter was not one of those people. She didn't have any sort of a life at all outside of social media, meaning Facebook was her entire world. Jenelle was a grown woman of thirty still living with her domineering parents, Barbara and Marvin "Buddy" Potter, who still treated their daughter like she was 10. That's not just a random number, 8 - 10 years of age was what Barbara and Buddy told everyone their daughter's mental capacity was. Jenelle did not drive, she didn't hold any sort of a job nor any real responsibilities; the woman was treated as a small child, complete with a set bed time and all.

When Jenelle met Tracy Greenwell, a young woman who worked at the local pharmacy which the Potters frequented to fill Jenelle's diabetes medications in 2009, Tracy took pity on the sad shut-in. In Jenelle she saw a lonely young woman and Tracy took it upon herself to include Jenelle in her own group of friends; her biggest mistake was introducing this woman to her brother, 36 year old Billy Payne. Soft hearted like his sister, Billy decided to take this girl under his wing, he even took Jenelle rock climbing and to the county fair. But you know that old saying: no good deed goes unpunished. Though the man of her dreams always kept the friendship platonic and did his best not to send out the wrong signals, Jenelle fell hopelessly in love.

When Billy first began seeing 23 year old Billie Jean Hayworth, he still did his best to include his female pal in his life; this wasn't an easy feat as Jenelle was mighty jealous. Though she had, without her parent's knowledge, been dating Billy's cousin, Jamie Curd, Jenelle was still fixated on the man who had been so kind to her. Jenelle felt that Billy was hers before Billie Jean showed up; she treated the woman she deemed to be her adversary like dirt! When Billie Jean came up pregnant, Billy did what most honorable men would do: he realized it was time to put an end to his friendship with a woman who refused to respect the mother of his unborn child.

Billy was so happy with his beautiful new life; he and Billie Jean became engaged, moved in together, and soon they were blessed with a perfect baby boy named Tyler. The young couple dreamed of a wonderful future as a family, a dream which they would never be allowed to fulfill. While the happy New family were living in bliss, Jenelle was beside herself; she was obsessing, and she was plotting.

Sometime during Billie Jean's pregnancy Jenelle began to complain that she was being cyber stalked, threatened, and harassed. At one point a stone was found in the Potters yard; on this stone were written the names Billy Payne and Billie Jean, the pair who Jenelle claimed to be behind the hate campaign against her. In turn, Jenelle's online pals began leaving threatening messages for Billy and Billie Jean. There had been so much tension between Billie Jean and Jenelle that the real life group of friends who had recently taken her under their wing completely stopped talking to her; Jenelle was alone with her parents again. Just one person remained by her side: Billy's cousin, Jamie Curd.

Throughout all of this drama, Billy and Billie Jean had kept Jenelle on their Facebook friend's list, until this point. It was finally just too much drama for the happy couple; Jenelle was now unfriended. This was absolutely catastrophic for Jenelle, and she had no intention of letting anyone move on with their lives! Sadly Billy, Billie Jean, nor their friends had any inking that they were in danger; why would they? Jenelle seemed physically harmless, at best she could inspire some hate from strangers via the interwebs. The happy couple believed they were strong enough to weather Jenelle's storm; sadly, they were dead wrong.

When Jenelle's cyber stalking began, a man who identified himself as Chris came out of the woodwork; he began writing to Jenelle's mom, Barbara, online. Chris claimed to have known Jenelle from school, and he was now a CIA agent. Though Barbara could not remember ever meeting this strange man in person, the two became fast friends; they grew so incredibly close that Barbara began to refer to Chris as her son. Chris was supposedly keeping an eye on Billie Jean and her friends, and he was growing more concerned by the day; Jenelle was in imminent danger. He stated that the happy couple had been abusing hard drugs, Billie was a known sex worker, and they planned to kidnap and rape Jenelle because she was a virgin and she was so very pretty. If all of this weren't bad enough, Chris claimed to have proof that this evil couple were planning to cut off Jenelle's beautiful head! Upon hearing this, Barbara panicked; Buddy, Jenelle's Marine corps Vietnam veteran father who had some serious health issues, was brought into the conversation.

Now, if you're a parent you can probably imagine how Barbara and Buddy felt after learning that that there was a plan to kidnap, rape, murder, and decapitate their mentally challenged daughter; it must've been sheer panic! Most of us would be livid, but as adults we would probably still run to the police right away; Buddy and Barbara didn't do that. They were told by CIA Chris that time was running out: if they wanted to save their sweet, innocent daughter's life, they had to act right away! At this point Jenelle's close friend, Jamie, was brought into the fold; the white knights who loved Jenelle quickly formulated a plan to save her.

In the early morning hours of January 31st of 2012, Buddy and Jamie entered Billie Jean and Billy's home. Billy was shot on the head and his throat was slashed as he lay in bed; Billie Jean was shot in the face while holding her infant son on the couch. Baby Tyler was not harmed, but he was left alone in the home with his murdered parents, covered in his Mama's blood. Just before fleeing, Jamie planted drug paraphernalia at the scene in hopes of throwing the investigation off. It was several hours before the corpses were discovered, and the poor baby was rescued from his dead Mama's arms.

Since everyone in town knew of the ongoing war between Billy, Billie Jean, and Jenelle, of course she was an immediate person of interest. Not that anyone believed the childlike 30 year old was capable of anything like this, but police still had to question her; maybe she knew something that could lead them to their killer. Investigators visited the Potters home for a quick interview; Jenelle and her parents claimed they knew nothing of what had happened to the murdered couple, only that they had been harassing Jenelle because they were jealous of her beauty. The family played it cool, and it's very likely they would've gotten away with it all, were it not for Jamie.

Upon hearing through the grapevine that Jamie had been dating Jenelle, the man was brought in for questioning by police. Now Jamie was not an accomplished liar; he failed a polygraph test, and soon confessed. He admitted to entering the victim's home with Buddy Potter; Buddy had been the one who slashed Billy's throat then shot both the man and woman in the face. According to Jamie, he was merely guilty of planted drugs at the scene to throw the investigation off. Once Billy and Billie Jean were good and dead, the two men left their victim's baby alone with his murdered parents. Buddy, who police had originally believed to be physically incapable of committing the crime due to a myriad of health issues, was brought in for questioning. A few hours later he placed a phone call to his wife in which he admitted, "I did it". Even now still had no clue exactly what they were dealing with, or how strange this case would become; not until Jamie asked if the CIA was there to talk with him yet. Police were taken aback; why in the world would the CIA be involved in a small town murder case like this? Then Jamie dropped a bombshell: the double murder had been completely planned out by a CIA agent named Chris.

Upon a search of the Potter home police seized many items, including the family computer and Buddy's truck. In the bed of said truck were hundreds of papers which had been shredded up and thrown in a trash bag; these papers contained printed conversations between the Potters and CIA Chris. But who exactly was this Chris guy? Investigators tracked down a man named Chris Tjaden who had gone to school with Jenelle; this Chris was not a government agent, but a police officer. Though the mysterious CIA Chris had used all of Chris Tjaden's photos as his own, the officer was completely unaware of the situation; matter of fact, he barely even remembered a Jenelle from high school! It was obvious that someone had been impersonating this officer online. When investigators began looking at the Potter family's computers, lo and behold, they discovered CIA Chris's messages had been sent from Jenelle's IP address, and she'd contacted this man by writing to her very own email address! But that's not all they found: remember all of that harassment which Jenelle had suffered through, all of those threatening messages sent by Billie Jean and her friends? Every bit of it had been sent by Jenelle to make her look like a victim! And all those messages which Billie Jean had been receiving from Jenelle's online friends? Every single one of them had been sent from Jenelle's computer as well. Jenelle had created dozens upon dozens of false profiles; she spent a good deal of her life pretending to be fake people, and creating a feud in which no one besides herself truly partook in. Upon feeling slighted by Billy, Jenelle had come up with a plan to get even; this plan included catfishing her very own mother! She invented lies about her targets, and began harassing herself to make it look like she was being victimized. In one online message Jenelle, using a different name, wrote, “F*ck you and Bill and your f*cking so-called little baby. F*ck them. I hope they die, die, die, and that baby”. Jenelle mentioned baby Taylor's death quite often, she wanted this innocent baby dead. Jenelle was really nothing but a master manipulator.

Upon her arrest, Jenelle just couldn't comprehend why she was in trouble. She didn't personally kill anyone, how could she possibly be held criminally responsible? Jenelle had truly believed that she could trick everyone who loved her into committing cold blooded murder, they'd pay the price, and she would walk away scott free! Thankfully the law saw things differently.

Jamie took a plea deal: in exchange for his testimony against Buddy, he received 25 years; Buddy was given two life sentences. Jenelle and her mother Barbara both loudly proclaimed their innocence; they seemed to believe they could manipulate their way out of their legal trouble. Barbara swore that she would not lie for anyone's sake, not even her daughter's! Jenelle's defense was that it would've been impossible for her to mastermind this sort of a crime with her 4th grader mentality; she continued to claim that she'd truly suffered bullying by scores of people online, and that CIA Chris was really real! When it was mentioned that she'd been not only receiving messages from but also contacting CIA Chris by sending messages too very own email address, Jenelle retorted that this was possible because CIA Chris had continuously hacked her account no matter how many times she changed the password. When it was proven that the real Chris was not involved in the scenario at all, Jenelle said she wasn't sure of CIA Chris's true identity, but that she had a good feeling it was someone she'd attended school with him. It was all so far fetched, and the jury saw right through it. Jenelle and her mother are both serving 2 concurrent life sentences for 1st degree murder and conspiracy to commit 1st degree murder. Jenelle will be 80 years of age when she is finally up for parole.

*About the drugs which Jamie planted at the scene, I read that in a book years ago. I wanna say that it was a crack pipe left on the porch. Though I definitely remember reading about it, I can not find a citation to back this up; please take that fact with a grain of salt.

There is another player in this scenario, though very distant she may hold some insight: Jenelle's estranged sister, Christie Groover. Christie says that her sister was always socially awkward. Their parents forced her to make friends, but they were forever going on about how "different" Jenelle had been. Christie got the hell out of Dodge more than a decade before the murders, and she completely cut her family off. After losing all control of Christie, mother likely began to focus all of her attention on the other daughter. To say that Barbara was over protective would be an understatement; by treating Jenelle like a 10 year old forever, she would always have control. The spoiled Jenelle was never going to abandon her parents. When someone threatened to take away the only child they had left, Barbara and Buddy flipped; Buddy did the unthinkable. That's my take on it anyhow.

Oh. And baby Taylor is being raised by his parent's family, he's reportedly doing very well.

[morphituu]

Milagro

Chapter 4: “Manifest”

Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 

In uncertainty, he ran his tongue over his clipped tusks, reading each seed packet critically, but this had been the third time he’d done so and he still wasn’t any closer to deciding on one. It wasn’t that he worried about the possible challenges with growing watermelon, it was the damn brands; two of his favorites.

Nick chuffed, shuffling the packets with averted eyes a few times before dropping one into the cart filled with large potted plants Callie had chosen, and placing the other back on the shelf. He looked down- nope, that wouldn’t do. He switched his selection, fighting the impulse to shuffle all over again.

He looked up from his dilemma when Callie turned the corner, a hand on her ever growing stomach and less tension in her shoulders.

“Much better,” she sighed, reaching for the water in the cart.

“At that rate you’re gonna be back in 10 minutes,” he avoided eye contact when he said that, knowing she’d have a placid stare ready for him.

“Or cause your monster baby is sitting on my bladder,” she piped, fiddling with the long, spear like leaves of the plant she’d chosen and delicately tucking in the star like one of the other two she planned to hang from the ceiling beside the sliding glass door.

“Which is why we shouldn’t’ve bought those newborn onesies…” he trailed off, an irked groan coming from her.

“Oh my god here we go again,”

“She’s not gonna fit in them,” Nick argued, firm on this side of the debate they’d had countless times.

“We don’t know how big they will be, so shut it, chato,”

“Keep callin’ me that and I’m gonna stick somethin’ in your mouth.” he said against the shell of her ear, but a quick swipe of her hand pushed his face away before he curled a strong arm around her neck to pull her back in, half-hearted shoves against his chest doing nothing.

Callie only allowed them to complete their purchase until after an associate had guaranteed none of the plants they were buying were harmful to a dog that had an odd obsession with chewing on flowers or greens, even though Nick had assured multiple times he’d Googled it before they even made it to the store.

Walking became a little slower every week that passed, not only because of Callie’s sore back, but for the impressive size of her 17 week belly that had her officially waddling beside him through the parking lot. That also meant when she hoisted herself into the truck now, his hand stayed on her back, ready to catch her if she tumbled. Being so small never posed such a threat.

“To T-Mobile?” he asked as he turned the engine, grinning at her sheepish nod.

“Hopefully it’s just the screen,” she mumbled, looking at the poor state of her shattered phone. “Guess I should invest in one of those Lifeproof cases,”

“Callie proof,” he ribbed, but she couldn’t really disagree with that. Throwing her phone across the room in attempts to simply pull it from her back pocket was an everyday occurrence.

A clustered fluttering stirred in her stomach, and a stifled groan snagged Nick’s attention as she shifted in her seat. “I’m gassy.” she admitted shyly, so he rolled her window down.

↠

Nick eyeballed the shredded, frying tortillas she flipped and stirred, his mouth watering even with lime and tajin coated jicama between his jaws. Just the smell of the blended tomato, onion and garlic was enough to make him groan in anticipation, and he’d even laid the eggs out beside her when the time came to fry them for the chilaquiles.

He popped another piece of jicama in his mouth, wincing at the particularly sour piece.

“Can you start making this everyday?” he inquired over her shoulder, offering her a piece.

“I’m already getting too chubby,” she chewed, pouring the contents of the blender into the pan. Nick’s excitement was evident as he observed, nearly done with his bowl. “I thought my jeans didn’t fit because of my stomach, but I think it’s my ass,”

“I like your big ass,” he kissed her cheek, and she snorted.

“Pervert.”

↠

She could sit and watch this for hours.

Callie never grew tired of watching Nick work on his garden, especially under the sun, shirtless and wearing those old stained and faded jeans he’d had longer than she was around. They hugged those toned thighs deliciously and hung low on his hips, effectively dampening her panties everytime he wore them. Add in a little bit of sweat shining off those chiseled muscles across his back and arms he worked so diligently to build up the past few years, and she had her very own private show from the comfort of their backyard.

Nick liked lap dances, and she loved watching him garden.

She sipped her iced tea, finding herself unbearably thirsty when he stood and walked to the shade of the overhang she laid under, eyes roaming his brawny body up and down as he stuffed his gloves in the pocket of the jeans.

“Should have watermelon in a few months,” he informed, reaching for her cup before sitting by her legs.

“Just in time for summer,” she noted, sliding down her seat when more gas fluttered through her stomach. He hummed as he drank, rubbing her thigh when it stretched across his lap.

“Still feeling dizzy?”

“Only when I stand up too fast,” she soothed, her hand falling to his shoulder when he leaned in towards her stomach.

“Why you harassin’ mama? Huh?” he interrogated playfully, her stomach bumping his nose when she stretched to alleviate more gas that never seemed to actually pass. “I was ready to know what the sex was yesterday,”

“Getting impatient?”

Nick nodded, half a frown curling his mouth. “I wanna meet her already,” he mumbled a little sadly, his palm drawing wide circles over her distended stomach.

“I want her to cook as long as she needs to,” she played along.

Nick grinned. “I’m kind of excited you’ll pop earlier than expected,”

“That’s not a for sure thing,”

His brows perked up, his fingers drumming against her stomach when he said, “Tell that to the little thing 4 weeks ahead of schedule,”

The probe had made multiple passes over the same spot, effectively panicking Callie when the doctors eyes stared unblinking at the monitor, her expression a look into her thoughts she couldn’t decipher.

“Is it alive?” Callie blurted, and Nick grabbed her hand when she tried to sit up.

“Yes- oh goodness, I apologize. Yes it’s alive,” Dr. Sangui assured, pausing to rest a hand on Callie’s thigh. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,”

Callie’s head fell back, hands cupping her head. That engulfed her so rapidly it made her lightheaded. Nick also- his forehead dropped to her shoulder, squeezing her arm in comfort as that momentary torment drained from their system.

“After all the time it took to find you I thought we’d been too late,” Nick exhaled, holding his head in his hands, then holding Callie’s as she slipped her palm into his.

“Oh I understand, it’s hard to find high-risk OBGYN’s that specialize in halflings,” Dr. Sangui sympathized, taking a few shots of the ultrasound. “It’s been about 3 weeks since you’ve seen the doctor that referred you?” she asked, and they both nodded.

“Why the concern?” Callie asked, looking back to the doctor who was still circling in tight swipes over her stomach, her Doctors neat brows curling critically.

Dr. Sangui’s lips curled up in a tender grin. “Your little one looks to be about 4 weeks ahead of schedule,”

The couple studied her words a moment before Callie sat up on her elbows, head tilting before finally saying, “What?”

She turned the monitor, revealing an impressive full body side profile of their baby wiggling in her stomach, and Callie’s restive expression softened before the doctors long, thin finger started pointing to the fuzzy image.

“You can see here- see? Those little hands and fingers? That level of development is normally a milestone at 21 weeks, but the biggest indicator is it’s size. At 17 weeks we’d expect about 5 inches in length, but this little ones already at 9 and around 13 ounces,” she explained, dragging the probe to highlight the little hands they could see curling into fists.

“Does that explain why my back hurts so much?” Callie was distracted when she asked, admiring her lively baby.

“You’ve definitely got a big baby coming your way. At 21 weeks you’d see babies at around 10 ounces,” she reflected out loud, her other fingers tapping thoughtfully against the carob skin of her chin.

“But, it’s okay? Even though it’s growing fast?” Nick asked.

“So far so good. It’s growing closer to the rate of an Orc which is expected since the father is, but I don’t see anything out of the usual even for a halfling. I think an ultrasound next week will solidify my assumption that you’ll have a sooner due date than expected,” she elaborated, helping her sit up. “That being said, this adds a little more caution to be had since you’re already a high risk pregnancy,”

“How’s that?” Nick asked.

“Labor will be something up for discussion,”

“I wanted a natural birth,” Callie reminded.

“Which I’m not against at all, cause, goodness- more power to you, but with halflings, medical intervention may need to be taken. I’ve had many patients who’ve tried delivering vaginally and the baby’s become stuck in the pelvis because of their size. That being said, a woman's body is capable of amazing things, including natural births to large babies,”

Nick cringed a little; imagining a baby that big was… scary, honestly. “So this is… generally normal?” he asked, and she nodded encouragingly.

“Normal Orc gestation is only 7 months. It doesn’t surprise me that the baby is growing faster, I just didn’t expect to be doing a scan on such a developed one when the chart said 17 weeks,” she laughed, her voice harmonic. “But it's a common hiccup in changing doctors. 12 week scans don’t give all that much insight, especially under a nurses scrutiny,”

Callie back tracked, her hand raising. “You said growing closer to the rate of an Orc? I thought they aged slower,”

“Adults age slowly,” she rolled backwards to reach for a laminated chart from the counter, wheeling back before Callie and swiping her coily hair from her cheek before pointing to the illustrations that timelined an Orcs pregnancy. “Orc growth in the womb is rapid if you take into account the shorter pregnancy terms and size at which Orcs are born, but after birth they age relatively close to humans but reach sexual maturity much sooner than humans. 9 or 10 is the normal age for their first heat cycles to start, and the progression of their aging drops dramatically in their early 30’s,”

“You didn’t know that?” Callie poked Nick, but he shook his head.

“I knew pregnancies were quick but I didn’t think it’d equate to you,” he shrugged.

“What about halflings?” Callie turned back to Dr. Sangui.

“Genetic testing after birth can tell us at what percentage they inherited and in turn be able to give us more insight to how they’ll age,”

The couple nodded thoughtfully, taking in all the information they’d been withheld from in their search for a specialist. Neither knew there was such contrasting differences in a crossover pregnancy, but above all, it gave them peace of mind knowing what to expect.

“I always thought I was bigger than I was supposed to be,” Callie mumbled, Nick nodding in agreement. Both of them had noticed that but figured it was just because he’d make big babies. “But everything is okay? It’ll all be okay?” Nick squeezed her thigh reassuringly.

“From what I see, everything is moving beautifully, so I have no reason to be worried about your progression even if you’re ahead of schedule. If you don’t have any further symptoms out of the ordinary, I’d say your body is handling it very well,” her doctor held her hand, reassuring Callie with a gentle smile and honest words. “We’ll start ultrasounds for cervical length next week. We might as well keep them weekly- you know you’re high risk for gestational diabetes or preeclampsia, and we also don’t want the baby to have developed rapidly and your body overfiring and sending you into preterm labor or struggling to catch up if it reaches term sooner,”

“What would happen if any of that happened?”

Her doctor sighed, clasping her hands. “If you went into early labor, there’s medications that would hopefully halt it, but you’d likely be kept in hospital for observation,”

“What if I went into labor tomorrow- I’d have to stay till it’s fully grown?” Callie barked, but she raised her hands calmly.

“Like I said, it all depends on how the pregnancy progresses. Above all the baby decides when it’s done cooking and every halfling is different. So stay calm, drink lots of water and keep exercising. I have no reason thus far to think you wouldn’t go home with a healthy baby and a somewhat decent recovery at the end of a seemingly normal pregnancy,”

Callie’s brows rose unenthusiastically. “Somewhat decent?”

“First time recoveries are always tough. Add in a big baby, it gets tougher,” she explained, lips quirked to the side.

Nick ran his hand over his head, suddenly having multiple things to keep him paranoid at work instead of just one. “So we’re just playing the waiting game?”

“More or less, which in that sense isn’t any different from other pregnancies. You’re doing good, Callie. Everything is normal so far,” Dr. Sangui encouraged, handing off their fresh batch of ultrasound scans.

That eased some of the couples momentary concern, and then Nick’s head perked up. “Does that mean if we wanted we could know the sex?”

Callie’s doctor nodded, one eye closing as she pondered. “You technically could’ve known 3 weeks ago.”

Nick looked to Callie, but she shook her head, turning his hopeful smile into downcast brows and a deep frown.

“Still might decide to cook longer,” she reiterated, smoothing her hand over the back of his head while he placed long smooches against her stomach. Inwardly, she hoped for that. She didn’t know if she could stand seeing their baby in the NICU hooked up to endless wires if her body betrayed her again.

He shrugged. “Either way, as long as it’s healthy,” he turned his head to rest his cheek there, looking up at her. “She’s gonna be so pretty. Just like her mama,”

Callie blew a short raspberry, giggling when he leaned up to press his mouth softly to hers again and again. She held his face, thumbs tracing his handsome cheekbones as he caressed her lips delicately, moaning softly under her delicate touch.

“You tryin’ to be all sweet and stuff?” she whispered against his eager pecks, noticing the shift from tranquil to starved in his amber eyes, the soft scrape of sharp teeth across her lips when he opened his mouth wider to taste her tongue stirring a low moan. Splayed fingers traced to the back of his head, keeping him locked against her.

“Tryin’ to get in your pants is more like it.” he slurred, conjuring seductive giggles when his touch traced upwards along her inner thigh.

↠

“I did! I swear I did,” she laughed, pushing against his bare chest as he looked at her suspiciously.

“And you never said hi?” he teased, earning another attempt at a smack on his chest, but he caught the blow.

“Well you were working so excuse me for being polite, officer,”

“Mhm,” he exhaled, an arm draping under her bare breasts and half his face disappearing beside hers in the lush pillow. “What kinds of calls were these that you stalked me on?”

“Mm,” she pondered thoughtfully, the plump bottom lip she worried between her teeth making Nick lick his own. He wanted to nibble on that lip again. “The one I remember best was at Fifth and Westlake, and the dude had an entire intersection stopped because he was throwing a sword around,” she explained, fingertips tracing the muscle of his forearm. Nick’s interest pulled from her mouth to settle on her sleepy caramels, recalling the start of that strange day years ago.

“You were there for that?” he asked.

She nodded. “I was with my mom next door getting tortillas,”

He adjusted his head. “You saw me arrest him?”

“Mhm. And I remember thinking, damn that ass looks good,” She laughed when he pinched her naked hip, pulling her writhing body closer to his. “And I remember how out of place you looked,”

His brows wrinkled drowsily.

“Like, you wanted to fit in but couldn’t just walk up and join a conversation, not even with the other Orcs around,” she said plainly, turning and stuffing a pillow under her stomach so she could face him and draw the pad of her thumb back and forth across his chin.

Stirring those repressed emotions from lonely days made him shift uncomfortably.

“That was the only time you saw me?” he asked.

“A few other times here and there, the occasional YouTube video. Not constantly until you started coming into the store though. Otherwise you never would’ve noticed me,” she smiled.

“Oh I noticed you. If we would’ve bumped into each other during work I probably woulda been fired trying to track you down,” he chuckled.

“What if you would’ve been cuffing me when we met?”

“Woulda fucked you in the back seat,” he sneered, blocking her hands when she swatted at his face playfully. “Look at us now,” he added lovingly, tracing the curve of her side down to her hip, squeezing as her knee slid up his bare thigh.

“You fit in the world now,” she said softly. Her caresses had already been beckoning him towards her, electrifying his body that’d seemingly just been spent minutes before.

“Only cause I found you in it. I couldn’t have kept going without you,”

“No, you got up everyday and did it. You started it and you’re finishing- I’m just here to cheer you on,” she insisted, and he found himself drowning in the sincerity of her balmy caramel eyes as he kissed her, sitting up on an elbow to lean over her deliciously writhing body.

“Still,” he argued, dragging his fingertips from her knee down her inner thigh as they spread, smirking at the soft shake of her whimper. “Everything was because of you.”

↠

He stood after he finished pulling his Nikes on, returning to their room where she was still sprawled naked across the bed, pillows stuffed around her stomach and limbs with hair fanned around her head like wild vines.

He peppered kisses across her face until she stirred, her hands finding him.

“I’m leaving,” Nick finally placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“Be safe,” she mumbled sleepily, her cheek squished when he gave her another hard one. “I love you,”

“Love you.” He stood straight with a groan, leaving her to melt back into the blankets and pillows as he headed for the front door with his bag in hand. Pucca was given a few messy face rubs when she stretched upwards onto his stomach at the door, and sweetly instructed her to watch over mama while he was away.

At the precinct, he always parked farther from everyone else. A far corner where no one else preferred to leave their vehicles because of the distance to walk, but after years of people opening their car doors into his and riddling his truck with dents and scratches, he now carried the habit with him everywhere he went unless Callie was tagging along.

He made idle conversation with a few friendly officers at the front desk who asked how Callie was doing, one of the men who was an impressive father of 6 daughters offering that if he should have a girl, he could have the mountains of hand-me-downs he and his wife didn’t know what to do with. Nick considered it, and would most likely take him up on the offer. He couldn’t be convinced otherwise that they weren’t having a girl at that point.

Walking into the lockers, he found Sergey, already clad in uniform and tying his boots. His nose scrunched when Nick walked by.

“You did not shower afterwards?” the young Orc griped.

“Says the one who came in for a week smelling like a closed room after an orgy,” Nick retorted snootily, rousing a loud chuff from Sergey, but Nick threw one right back at him alongside a cocky grin.

“Could y’all stop flirting please.” A sour officer commented as he walked by them, smirking to himself.

But the Orcs had the last laugh when they both chuffed loudly in unison, startling the paler man who turned to glare at their toothy sneers.

↠

“No listen,” Nick interrupted, holding up his green tea smoothie. “People that go for Chivas are always fucking hot heads,”

“The hell you say!” Sergey defended heatedly.

“Case in point,” Nick noted, slurping the drink as he sat deeper in the seat, the two waiting for someone to whip around the corner of the street frequented by speeders.

“Oh shut the fuck up, how does Callie put up with your bullshit?” Sergey lamented, staring at Nick critically.

“Cause we like the same team,”

“Which is?”

An arrogant smirk was his answer, but it took Sergey a moment to decipher the expression, and it was a long eye roll when it finally clicked.

“You are not for América,”

“Got an official jersey at home,” Nick boasted, his smug smile from ear to ear. “My baby’s gonna have a little one just like her daddy,”

“You’re a fucking disgrace,” Sergey took a hearty bite of his chicken wrap. “It’s not too late to convert, you know,”

“Callie’s father would murder me if I came over wearing an opposing team's shirt.”

↠

Their nightshift consisted of a few speeding tickets and nothing more by the time their clock ran out, and they were sat back in the locker rooms, changing from their finely ironed attire. Nick always enjoyed taking the vest off; even upon requesting the next size up when more muscle bulked his form, his dimensions didn’t work well with the constricting material.

“Take it easy, old man.” Sergey patted his shoulder after he’d finished changing, but Nick only chuckled, finishing pulling off his boots.

Your mom wants us there by 11 on sunday, read the message from Callie, pinhead sized sprinkles falling onto the screen of his phone once outside. Nick dug in his bag for his beanie, slipping it over his head before replying.

Wear sweats so you can pig out then. my dad's gonna expect your salsas too

He shoved his hand into the pocket of his shorts, pressing the unlock button on his car keys, but his truck didn’t chirp when he did so.

Nick stopped once he looked up from his phone.

The drivers side door was thrown open, the hood popped, and anything inside had been thrown about. Papers, wires, anything that could fit into a compartment was tossed into seats or on the floor, and upon stepping closer, the car seat had also been knocked off its base and was on its side.

Nick spun, wide eyes glaring over the parking lot, anywhere a head could’ve been secretly watching him.

Cautiously he approached the truck, leaning to look in the just under the driver's seat. The aluminum bat was still there. Cold flashbacks of being attacked just outside his truck quickened his heart, his hands fisting and ready to swing this time around.

He leaned farther in- he stopped, stepping back.

His nostrils flared, second guessing his own ability to identify scents he’d picked up years ago. But this one… it was so distinct. It made his stomach roil uneasily like the first time when he inhaled it all those years ago when he’d draped a heavy blanket over her shoulders, trying to make sense of her jumbling words.

Hesitantly, he craned forward, taking deliberate breaths.

Sickly sweet that coated his tongue like syrup.

It was Tikka.

More spins, frantically looking, and waiting for her to pop out and stare at him with those lightning blue eyes, but all was quiet in the parking lot besides the thunder of his heart in his ears.

All the times he’d convinced himself she would never come back- the years and weeks proving that were thrown aside, and he was left standing there in orbiting disbelief, and panic slowly creeping its way into his chest.

His hands were unsteady when he texted Callie that someone had broken into the truck, but even in his distressed state, he absolutely dreaded making the phone call to Kandomere.

↠

Side to side he swayed, face hidden in his palms, it being the only thing that was harnessing his irritation. The varying size of the raindrops pelting against him was one thing, but this being the 3rd time he’d gone over every miniscule detail with Kandomere leading up to this incident was close to sending him over the edge, ready to say fuck it and take the truck before his team was done dusting for fingertips and observing for any small evidence.

“And you found it in disarray?” Kandomere asked again, flipping the small booklet he’d sketched Nick’s statement into.

“Yes, like the first 30 times I told you,” Nick grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How’re you so sure it’s her?”

“If you’re going to grill me about the certainty of my sense of smell…” Nick started, but Kandomere’s raised hand stopped him.

“I’m not, but could you have mistaken it?”

“Not unless by some coincidence someone smells exactly like her, no,” he near hollered, uncaring of the other elves that looked on at Nick’s impatience with disgust. Nick only had loud growls for them, lips pulled back to bare his pointed teeth.

“Concentrate,” the blue haired elf snapped his fingers, barely fazing Nick. “What else could you have missed? Anything that could’ve been any kind of indication she was nearby?”

Nick’s eyes fluttered as he inhaled; he was seconds away from exploding. “Nothing,”

“Is that certain? Or were you too busy staring off into nothing to bother keeping an alert eye open?” Kandomere asked bitterly, equally annoyed.

“If I wasn’t working today I was balls deep in my girlfriend, and I definitely didn’t see any familiar faces in our bedroom,” Nick snapped back. That silenced the elf, but to what level of discomfort his words caused he couldn’t tell. Enough for him to close his notebook and stuff it into the inner pocket of his pinstripe suit, turning to watch the team continue their inspection.

Nick glanced at him, stood fixed like marble, and couldn’t help but feel a little pleased with himself. Were raunchy outbursts like that what got him to shut up?

It stirred curiosity; a few times Nick and Daryl had pondered over Kandomere’s personal life, but had ultimately agreed that there was no way anyone could put up with his cold exterior, just as they were certain no one could meet up to the high expectations they assumed he had. At the mention of Nick’s sex life, it seemed to make him further reserved.

“Shield of Light has gone dark,”

Nick’s head snapped in his direction. “Dark? Like-”

“They’ve disappeared. Headquarters, outposts, recruiters- they’ve all been wiped off the face of the Earth,” Kandomere explained, his sunken eyes tireder than most days. “We can’t find any trace they’ve even existed except for a few bodies that have been scattered across LA,”

That sent an alarming chill down the back of Nick’s neck and through his spine.

“She’s bringing something with her. I need your full cooperation,” Kandomere stated, but not harshly like he’d had the habit of doing before. There was an air of desperation in his voice, and it got Nick wondering. If they reported to him, who did Kandomere report to? What kind of repercussions did he face when results weren’t yielded?

“You act like we haven’t cooperated in the past,” Nick mumbled, still sour.

Kandomere nodded, more in the swaying motion of his shoulders before he started turning. “More or less.”

And he moved away, passing words between the head of the team that was finishing with his truck after a couple hours of intensive inspections.

They left it with all the doors open, and almost messier than when he’d found it. Scraps of red tape and sterile utensils were discarded inside the truck, fingerprint powder dusted all over the place. The car seat was completely flipped and covered in it.

Nick huffed, pulling it out and using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe it down.

He did so bitterly, but when adjusting the small straps, his fingers were gentle as he centered it, and placed it back in it’s base still buckled into the seat. Papers and cords were wound and stacked, placed back in their appropriate compartments, his battery hooked up once again, and thankfully his truck roared to life with only a few sputters. He didn’t want to be stuck here anymore.

↠

Pucca barked and jumped excitedly behind the door, knocking Nick loose of his immersive thoughts enough to notice the kitchen light was still on. Once in and pushed past his bulldozer of a pitbull jumping almost as high as him, he found Callie leaned against the counter, chewing a banana.

Immediately, his world stopped spinning as madly, and he could focus on the beauty before him, cloaked in one of his long sleeve thermals that wasn’t loose enough to conceal that impressive belly that held their baby.

Exhaustion flooded him, and he could let go of the breath he’d unknowingly been holding.

“You’re still up?” he asked, setting his belongings down.

“I was worried about you. And I got the munchies,” she said with a cheekful, kissing him after he dragged his feet to her and hung against her loosely. She encircled his broad shoulders when he hid his face against her neck, groaning loudly at the soothing sensation of her hand massaging away the last of his qualms.

“How’s the truck?” she asked, taking another bite behind his head.

“Nothing was taken,”

“Nothing to take,”

“Except that $400 car seat,” he mumbled.

“Must’ve been after electronics then,” she decided, placing her peel down to better hold her clearly agitated companion who was boneless against her, yet felt the slightest of tension in his frame, like he couldn’t fully relax. “Did you have a bad day?”

He nodded, lying. At what point he would tell Callie about what was happening he wasn’t sure, but that night didn’t seem like the right time when so much was still up in the air. If he fessed up, he’d have the same amount of answers for her that Kandomere had. A whole lot of nothing.

“I have something that’ll make you feel better,” she grinned, and reluctantly peeled himself from her when she pushed back on his shoulders.

Up came the shirt, stuffed under her bust, and a short pause before she grabbed his hand and rested his fingers flat on the left underside of her belly. He rocked onto one leg when another pause came, but then his eyes shot to hers, meeting her wide grin.

“Is that…?” he asked, his other hand joining.

“I thought I was feeling gas all day but they’re little kicks,” she smiled, pulling his hand beside her belly button to follow the soft tapping below his touch.

He watched, waiting to see if he could catch the visual of the little thumps he felt drumming under his contact, but after he followed the baby’s small steps a full orbit around her stomach, he figured it wasn’t yet big enough to make such an impact. Either way, it left him breathless, and in complete awe. It had always amazed him how far along Callie had come in her pregnancy, but feeling the tiny life prove its existence was overwhelming, and beautiful.

“What’s it feel like?” he asked, his earlier grievances lightyears away.

She thought about that for a moment; such a tricky thing to explain. “Sometimes like gas bubbles, but you know when you’re on a roller coaster and your stomach flips during a drop? That’s kind of what these ones feel like,” she explained as best she could.

“How’d you figure it out?” More kicks, and he could almost cry.

“Gas eventually comes out,” she chuckled, and he did in return. He took his wide hands to lay flat over her belly, admiring the swirls beneath his touch.

“Active little thing,”

“Tell me about it. Got a feeling I’m not gonna be getting too much sleep anymore,” she drawled, and he chuckled sympathetically, pulling her in for a warm hung, his face buried close to her neck.

“I guess I’m obligated to give you more back rubs then.” he admitted, and she agreed wholeheartedly, rubbing his back as he caressed her entirely, astounded by the miracle she was growing, and already loving so extraordinarily. It brought everything into a more manageable perspective, too, somehow. As he held her, he understood then that he’d deal with Kandomere, and any grueling process to make sure no harm would befall Callie or their baby. If he could keep this bottled, there’d be no overflow.

He stepped back to hold her belly again as their small miracle danced beneath his palms.

↠

The worn, battered laptop barely functioned enough to carry on the task of scrambling the lockscreens of the stolen phones, and it took some hard slaps against its surface to even get the program running as the fan spun loudly inside. Most of these phones had been put through the ringer already, many having cracked screens and slow startups, but he’d still carry out the task at hand until something decided to crap out on him.

He didn’t turn his impressive head of platinum curls when heels approached behind him, instead asking in his lurid voice, “How’d it go?”

A black heel stepped mercilessly on one of the phones, ending it’s ability to assist them any further.

His lips pulled into a straight line as he calmly detached it and tossed it into the pile of other broken, useless phones.

“Not good then?” he added, and Tikka opened her bag to drop another handful of phones and a laptop beside him with no regard to their well being.

“Waste of time,” she remarked vehemently, clopping to an adjacent wall to slide down, her fingers sliding into her long locks that were knotted and tousled around her shoulders. She couldn’t stand to look at the state of her dirty hands, or equally messy clothing, and instead closed her eyes to try and search for any moment of peace she could hold onto.

“I told you,” he intoned, and was met by lightning blue eyes glaring him down.

“I assumed they’d still be friends,” she argued, crossing her ankles. Everything on her felt heavy, and dirty. Like she’d become a giant scab.

“You can be friends and not keep extensive information about one another,”

“Fero,” she sighed his name, rubbing her palms over her eyes.

“I’m just saying-”

“You’ve said enough!” she snapped, dazzling fangs flashing. “I don’t want to involve Jakoby anymore than we have to,”

His already curved brow arched upwards. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Her head hit the wall behind her, letting go of a long breath as she said, “He had a baby carrier in his car,”

Fero sucked in air between his equally sharp teeth, his luminescent eyes squinting. “Yikes. Doesn’t the Bright have a daughter?”

She nodded with her face in her hands. “He’s our only choice now. Without him, this whole journey is pointless,”

“If he doesn’t agree then this is all pointless, you mean,” he simpered, but she didn’t look up. Her head remained hung, picking grime from beneath her nails and the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Fero looked over her, sympathy stirring in his heart at the sight of his emotionally and mentally wounded lover. He left the laptop to finish its task, scooting before Tikka and drawing her hands into his to place sweet kisses across her knuckles. She watched him, unmoving, unable.

“Why don’t we go into hiding with them?” he asked, again, for the hundredth time. Her eyes rolled back with her head, groaning tiredly. “Why does it have to be us? You say you don’t blame the others for scattering so why don’t we, Tikka? Why should we have left our lives in Brazil for this blind mission?”

“Because I knew from the beginning there was darkness in Makhel’s heart and I remained silent. It’s my fault so many have died,” she spoke sadly, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s not-”

“It is,” she looked up, bringing forth the slightest of her relentlessness. “I thought we would see miracles from this new worlds first Orc Bright but we’ve only seen genocide. I taught him everything he knows. I have to finish this,”

Fero only nodded slowly, dropping his head to her hands cupped in his. Her forehead dropped to his curly locks, the both of them tired, and hungry, and dirty, and scared. Again her eyes closed, searching for the smallest amount of rest she could wrap herself in, but his eyes were trained to the years old leather bag stuffed into the corner of the ratty motel they seeked shelter in, a low hum emitting from it.

“When we return home, I never want to see a wand again,” he mumbled, and she tittered.

“I never want to leave home again after this.”

Tikka didn’t know how well she masked her dread in that statement, but when he nodded in agreeance, she assumed he didn’t catch onto the impending doom she knew was lurking over them. After this- all the battles she’d waged and the ones coming for them in the night, she knew there’d be no returning home.

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

don't @ my Chivas 😎

OOOOOOOO trouble is stirring in LA again!! slice of life nick and callie are fun to conjure up and write. thanks for reading! i always appreciate feedback 🖤

[anastasiaskarsgard]

So here’s AU single dad Mark, you can see the vibe his picture inspired here (who is inspired by a real person loosely)

Warning: cursing, mention of drugs and sex. Mention of violence.

“Doctor, you have one last appointment and then you’re free! New puppy needs vaccines and looks very healthy. The guy is seriously dreamy so just mentally prepare yourself for that.” My receptionist Ashley said as she handed me the file. “They’re in number 2.”

I glanced over the file and audibly groaned, drawing both receptionists attention. “I know Mark! Shit! I hope he didn’t recognize my name and come here on purpose. To be quite honest though, I don’t think he’ll even remember me.”

Ashley leaped from her chair to get close enough to whisper, “I need the deets Doc! Did you have a one night stand with him? Or lose your v card to him at prom? Or oh my gosh! did you choose your career over him and left him behind for vet school?”

“Stop reading smut on the internet, and come back to reality. He was 2 years older than me and talked to me one time at a party, informing me that I had potential if I would dress more like a girl, and less like a veterinarian. I doubt he’ll remember it tho.” I chuckled, shaking my head, “Get back to work.” I said as I walked over to room 2, taking a deep breath before opening the door, coming face to face with Mark. He was still drop dead gorgeous.

“My bad, I thought you’d come thru the other door. Dakota, Danielle. Please sit down nice for the Doctor, so your puppy doesn’t get nervous.”

Mark tried to wrangle his two small children to sit down, but at around 2-4 years old, that wasn’t gonna happen. I wondered what girl had snatched up Mark as I checked the puppy out.

“Oh my — kids earmuffs— “ Mark verified both children were in fact covering their ears before turning back to me with a big cheesy smile on his face. “No fucking way! You seriously became a veterinarian!” He exclaimed chuckling.

“Well you gave me the idea, so I just ran with it, “ I said with a smirk.

“Oh my God. You remember I said that? I was a punk, I’m sorry. I just had a thing for you and you’d always ignore me or blow me off, every time I tried to get your attention.”

“I don’t recall you ever trying to get my attention. I do recall you ignoring me.”

“No. I didn’t even have any classes in the portables and I’d go hang out over there and always say what’s up as you’d walk by. I went to all your basketball games and you never once acknowledged my existence and I tried to talk to you in the library a couple times and you would always shoosh me.”

“ well that’s what you’re supposed to do in a library. Also, going into the general vicinity of someone, and expecting them to know somehow that you’re there for them, isn’t very obvious, especially considering the one time you speak to them you tell her that she has potential but dresses like a veterinarian, which is pretty cool if you ask me.” I giggled. Oh sweet mother of God, I giggled. He was so hot, my brain was malfunctioning. Eventhough he was most likely full of shit and trying to get a discount or something, it was wild to think, I was so intimidated by him, I refused to entertain the idea that he might actually like me. It was pretty hilarious. “Looks like you found your happily ever after anyways. Who’s the lucky lady? Anyone I know?”

“Huh?” He looked confused for a few couple beats and then it dawned on him. “Oh yeah I got two awesome mini mes.”

“We’re the 3 musketeers!” A little voice squeaked out.

“Oh sorry. I just figured 2 kids that use ear muffs and the designer dog, someone had domesticated you.” I said looking up to see Mark blush.

“Remember Anna Winters? That’s his mommy and—“

“I don’t mean to interrupt Mark, but could I borrow your little musketeers to feed some newborn puppies that were dumped here? Then we can have a few minutes to catch up. I think you’re my last appointment. Do you mind? The girls and I do it, but they look like they’re good little helpers.”

Both children leaped out of their seats and started jumping up and down pleading to let them help so Mark agreed. I called Ashley in and she was super enthusiastic about having helpers, till she realized Mark wasn’t coming too. As soon as they closed the door, I turned to Mark.

“Thought it would be best if they didn’t hear adult conversations, especially involving their mother.”

“Mothers.”

“I kinda figured since your little girl looks possibly Latina?”

Mark nodded his head. “Yeah So Anna is a full fledged crackhead out in LA or something last I heard. Who knows? She might even be dead. She left him with me when he was a week old and never came back.”

“Wow! What a deplorable human being! But then you had naked time with a lady again, and she got pregnant too huh?” I teased. “Maybe no one told you how this works...”

“No I get it. Danielle’s mom was Dakota’s babysitter, and she just never really went away and it was convenient, and she cleaned and took care of Dakota. But she stopped taking birth control unbeknownst to me, and she winds up pregnant, wanting to get married.”

“So Wait! I know this part! You being the most romantic motherfucker on the planet, was like let’s go to Disneyland and get married in the castle right before the fireworks go off!” I had to give him some shit. He was such a cliche.

Mark laughed his same dorky weird laugh, and I couldn’t help but to laugh too. “No I told her I’m not marrying you. I don’t love you, and she’s like well then as soon as I have this kid, it’s all yours. If you don’t want me, I don’t want your ugly baby.”

“I’d be like ‘it got it from its mama’. She’s adorable though, so you really came out ahead there. What are the odds you’d get two deadbeat moms in a row?”

“Don’t remind me. What’s your story? You married? Kids?”

“Well I went to school and graduated top of my class, so i got into vet school, which is way harder than regular old medical school since there aren’t as many options. Plus it’s pretty challenging. With people you just got to figure out people. I have to know the dogs, cats, horses, goats, birds, lizards pretty much anything that’s alive and not from the primate family, i gotta figure it out. Last week somebody brought in a damn baby kangaroo, trying to tell me it’s a wallaby, and I was like where did you get a Kangaroo in Salt Lake City? Sorry, to answer your actual questions, No baby daddy’s cuz I’ve never met anyone that’s as awesome as I am, so until then I’m just saving the world, one litter at a time. Let’s go peek at them, come on.” I tiptoed out the door, over to the batch of kennels I had them living in, and we peeked around the wall, to see both kids feeding two puppies each, smiling from ear to ear.

“What kind of puppies are they?” Mark whispered.

“Go back in the room and I’ll tell you the story.”

He looked so adorable tiptoeing along, trying to be sneaky. He was like that one part of Fantasia where everybody knows but him that he’s too big to be sneaky.

We get back in the room and he sits on the little bench, patting the seat next to him, looking up at me all sexy like. He knows what he’s doing. “Come sit. I won’t bite.” He said with a lustful tone. Or maybe I just wanted to jump on him and any tone would be lustful......

“You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna squirt you with the spray bottle,” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke. He found it less funny. “They’re all Blood Hounds. The mother got shot by the owners worthless boyfriend, claiming she attacked him, when I have a strong suspicion she was defending the woman from him. The mama dog did get ahold of the guy and shredded his arm up bad enough, it’ll never work again. The woman dropped the puppies off saying he’d kill them when he got home, so that’s how I got nine Bloodhound puppies that have to be fed every few hours. I didn’t have the heart to put them down, and the shelter would of killed them.”

“Aren’t Bloodhounds expensive?”

“Well yes. And they’re actually AKC, but I’m going to fix them all before I adopt them out. I rescue, I don’t profit off animal sales. Just maintenance. I actually offered them to the police since they’ve got the best noses in the business. They’re trying to get the money together to train them. Las Vegas wants two of them, but they got that casino money.”

“How much does it cost to train a dog?”

“Like $22k I think it is. Takes a few years depending if they’re looking for people, drugs, bombs... ”

“Wow. How are you not taken?” He blurted out.

“My bullshit tolerancy is almost non-existent, I work a lot, I’m the only one that thinks I’m funny, i dress like a veterinarian and I’m shallow. How are you single? All that man pretty and diaper changing skills.”

Mark looked down and blushed again. “Ok I’m just gonna go for it. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” I swear he is holding his breath. Dammit. So cute.

“How about now? When they’re done feeding the puppies, you wanna go feed your rugrats?” I inquired.

“I meant like on a date, just you and me.”

He was so pretty, I wanted to sit on his face, “Oh ho! I cant be alone with you, I’ll get pregnant. Even now, I’m at risk. I need tiny chaperones.”

“Is that so?” He said rising to his feet with a mischevious look on his face, glancing between my eyes and lips. I took a step back and the wall was there. I was trapped. I tried to look oblivious but when he leaned against the wall behind me, with an arm on each side of my head, leaning in so his lips lightly brush my ear, he whispers; “where’s your spray bottle now?”

Oh fuck it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft and he was surprisingly gentle and not trying to be handsy. What the fuck was I doing!? I pulled away scanning his face for I don’t know what.

“What?” He asked all breathy and desperate, rubbing his perfect little nose on my cheek, getting almost close enough to kiss me, wanting me to close the gap.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know when I see it.”

“Shut up and kiss me....please?”

Fuck. Anyone else I would have sent packing, but Mark was so tall, and beautiful, and confident, and took care of his kids, and God he smelled good, and if he fucked as well as he kissed, then I might just keep him. I pushed my lips into his and he kissed me a bit more aggressive biting my lower lip.

This was either a really great idea, or the worst idea I’ve ever had, but either way, I was gonna see how it played out.

[panda-noosh]

tbh every time i get a notif when you wrote something, my heart sings and i don't even notice i've been smiling lmao. i have a request! let's say that the paladins and their s/o somehow got to meet their future grown child for a little bit. now, the kick here is that they only just realized they love their s/o. how would they react? do they see their s/o in a whole new light? too baffled? or are they too caught up with the thought of "holy shit we made -that- and they're gorgeous"?

Here you go! x

Shiro:

He wouldn’t really believe the sight in front of him atfirst.

Of course, nobody really would. It’s a sight to behold, andwould definitely be a shock to the system.

But he recognises the person in front of him almostimmediately – his son looks a lot likehim. To the point where it’s kind of spooky.

Nobody else seems to care at first. They’re all running pastthe strange boy, making their way to the place they actually need to be, butShiro stops in his tracks, gawks for a little bit longer.

Honestly, he feels excitement.Excitement that this part of his future is confirmed now, that he won’t besome travelling astronaut for the rest of his life, and that you two will takethings to the next level eventually.

And obviously, he’s a little bit nervous.

Whenever he and his future-son finally get to speak, his sonprobably says something like, “God, I’m exhausted.”

And you all know Shiro can’t help but whisper to himself, “Helloexhausted, I’m Dad.”

Keith:

He’s so??? Unbelievably??? Happy???

Happy to the point where he genuinely has to lean against awall or something to stop himself from collapsing at the sight before him – of thelittle girl who is looking right back at him in awe, only after saying the word“Daddy?”

His world kind of comes to a stand-still for a moment,because he sees your features in the girl standing before him, but she has his violeteyes and there’s truly no mistaking who her parents are.

Keith can’t believe it.

He tries to deny it, but everybody is aware of him wantingto be a father. He truly believes that it is a challenge to raise a child, andhe’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

But he never thought he would be capable of doing such athing. Not with his emotion outburst and his mood swings and his past whichalways comes back to haunt him sometimes.

He wants nothing more than to have a family with you,though, so whenever he sees that that is, in fact, something that is going tohappen, it takes everything in his power to stop himself from crying tears ofabsolute joy then and there.

Lance:

He’s going to try and hide the fact that he’s shocked, buthe really is shocked.

Obviously.

But he doesn’t want everybody else knowing that, becausethat takes away from his aura of being the guy whose prepared for anything, andhe can’t be having that.

Whenever he first lays eyes on his son, everybody elsefalters because it’s so obviously Lance’sson that is standing before them. He’s built like Lance and he has that cheekygrin that Lance has – he has your hair, though, which makes Lance’s entire bodyfeel like he’s getting tickled by butterflies or something, because he’s alwaysloved your hair.

At first glance, it’s kind of hard for Lance to hide hissurprise, but he does a pretty good at it. There’s a moment that only somepeople catch onto where his smile kind of wavers and his eyes go wide and hischeeks flash a bright red colour, but it’s over as soon as it arrived.

Then he’s walking towards his future-son with thatswagger-like walk and he’s clapping him on the back like the two of them havebeen best friends since childhood.

Even though he’s giving off this aura of confidence,whenever he gets any snippet of time alone, he has to press himself against thewall and hold his hand to his heart, just to make sure his heartbeat isn’trising any further than humanly acceptable.

“Just wait until I tell Y/N about this.”

Hunk:

“Oh God. Do I invite her out to get ice cream with me? No,wait. I should just tell her where getting ice cream, right? That’s what dadsdo, isn’t it?”

Panicked little boi.

He thinks he has to be a dad then and there, in that verymoment, on the spot.

He seems to forget that, in the present, he isn’t even marriedto you yet.

He also seems to forget that, where he is now, his daughteris a full grown adult who has already been through life and has already got icecream with her father on multiple occasions.

The thing that really shatters Hunk, I think, would bewhenever his daughter looks at him. He doesn’t think she’ll recognise him, justbecause he’s so young compared to the father she knows, but her entire facefalls and tears are welling in her eyes.

“Dad?”

Oh, sweet Lord have mercy on my soul, because Hunk crumbles.

And the two of them hug so tightly, even though theybasically don’t know each other but as soon as Hunk wraps his arms around herwaist and tugs her into his embrace, it just feels right.

Like he was meant tohug his daughter.

“I’ll see you in a few years.”

Pidge:

Like Lance, she’ll pretend it doesn’t affect her all thatmuch even though it is completely ripping her insides to shreds because of theflaming anxiety ripping through her body in that moment.

She lays eyes on her son – who is most definitely her son,holy shit, look at how his hair grows if that isn’t Pidge Gunderson – and her world comes to a stand still atthat moment, but she hides it.

She shrugs whenever everybody turns to her with wide eyes. “Weexpected this kind of thing. Let’s get the job done.”

But all throughout the job, she’s sharing glances over hershoulder, making sure her son is okay. She tends to forget that he’s been doingthis very job for a few years now.

She just gets protective.

And everybody sees it. She does a God awful job of hidingit. It’s every few seconds she’s looking over her shoulder, making sure he’sokay and that he’s not getting injured.

Mother instincts, honestly.

There’s even a moment where she thinks his hand is gettingtoo close to the conveyer belt in a moving machine and she deadass leaps awayfrom her station, snatches his hand away and basically scolds him for not beingcareful.

And everybody is like “Aw, mama Pidge.”

By everybody, I mean me. I said that. Because Mama Pidge iseverything.

[naruto-ninja-imagines-blog]

So neji is introducing his s/o to his clan & they be gettin grilled. Right when they think their goose is cooked one of the colic-y toddlers of the hyuga start up & before mama can get to them s/o's already calmed them down and now they have approval

Here you go! Maybe not my best work, I think I made the m/c  a bit too dense but I hope it still works for you. :)

Neji remains a challenge to write. Gotta practice him more.

~Mod Whipski

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Well…wasn’t this a rather sticky situation. You’d always imagined tea rooms to be warm and friendly places to be, surrounded by open people and delicious drink. Now, however, you are starting to think the Hyuga clan had a completely different idea. Casting a worried side-eye to your boyfriend your fear is met with his normal indifference. Seeming totally comfortable under the harsh, scrutinizing stares and barbed questions.

Sitting in front of you, framed by the rest of the clan members, is Haishi. Not that you would ever think of calling him that. His rigid, professional demeanour an exact mirror of Neji’s when you’d first met the man. In fact you’d believe the entire clan must have had that posture hammered into them at some point, if not for the two toddlers that padded around behind the two of you.

“y/n, I’ve not heard of your clan before. Tell me about your family.”

And, there it was, the final nail in your proverbial coffin. You wonder how long he had been waiting to finally ask you that question, having let the rest of his family tare your social standing to shreds. You’d told Neji this was gonna happen. You told him!

With hands quivering in your lap, you can’t bring yourself to keep eye contact any longer with the man set on putting you back into your place. The implications of his words hanging heavily over your heart. “You are not worthy of associating with our clan.”

“Um, m-my fa-families not really a ninja clan you s-s-see, more…um…more…” You can’t stop your voice from being strangled in your throat. The heavy lump of tears snuffing any words you attempt to make. Not now. You can’t cry now y/n!

As if your emotional vulnerability had triggered a chain reaction, one of the children behind you falls silent. And, as everyone knows, a silent child is never a good sign. Then comes the sniffles, the squeezing of fists and the slurping of spit.

The room is morphs into a different form of tension. Attention shifting from your quaking form to the tiny child beyond.

And then all hell breaks loose. The whining, the screaming! Oh god the snot! It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Without so much as a thought to the company you find yourself in, you swivel your body around and scootch on over to the blubbering mess.

The child latches onto you the second you come into grabbing range. Huddling up into your stomach and bawls in your arms. The beginnings of your own emotional breakdown now completely forgotten, your hands stroke down the childs head and back soothing his own quivering shoulders.

“There, there little one. It’s alright. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

As if by magic the little boy seems to calm himself. He’s still crying and no one really understands why but at least he’s no longer hyperventilating. His mother, who’d jumped to her feet at the sound of her sons distress, seemed rooted in place. Her child…tended to be weary of strangers.

You, having realised that you were essentially coddling another woman’s child in her presence, peeked over your shoulder and offered an apologetic smile. Against all odds, she smiles back. Finally making her way over to you and gingerly gather him from your arms.

“Thank you, I’ve never seen him trust someone so quickly.”  

“Ah, well, children can be rather unpredictable.” You chuckle, unsure of how you should be conducting yourself, hands fiddling with the damp fabric of your clothing.

She smiles again, bows, and hurries out of the room to attend to her baby. The remaining people are silent and you return to your seat next to Neji who seems to be smiling, if only just a little. Had you…done something right?

“Y/n,” eyes snapping back over to the clans head. “May I offer you some more tea?”

Huh? Wasn’t he…more concerned about your bloodline before? In fact…why had the atmosphere gotten so much lighter. When had those scrutinising gazes turned so welcoming?

Why was Neji chuckling at your confusing!?

[yoiotdfics]

Fic Recs for the Month of November 2016

Triple Axel  by  terunakamura

Summary:

Yuuri is so in love with Victor that he gets too distracted to do his jumps. What better solution than to avoid the problem?

fight for you, write for you by  third

Summary:

The thing is, Yuuri had completely forgotten about his account on Figure Skating! until he sees the email in his inbox. He doesn’t know how he ends up awake at 3 AM defending Victor’s reputation from strangers on the internet.

Melting Point by  cirrus (themorninglark)

Summary:

Katsuki Yuuri waves an awkward greeting at him. Yuri feels his blood rising, whirls and whips away. He’s definitely out of step now. Not that it matters. Not that he needs any more practice to beat Yuuri to a pulp.

In which a conversation takes place off the ice, and Yuri Plisetsky considers fragments, shards, and space to breathe.

Looking for a clue by  neerappi

Summary:

It takes one touch and Yuuri’s head goes haywire.

Dear Mama by  Ferrero13

Summary:

In which Victor writes letters to his mother, who is fifty percent of his rationality and self-control.

Cheering for You by  gawsoloy

Summary:

The tissue box cover shielded his face, as if it was an impenetrable barrier to keep the stunning man in front of him from starting into his soul.

Learn to Love Yourself by  SocialDegenerate

Summary:

Victor teaches Yuuri to become more attuned to his sexual side.

“Tonight,” Victor said, and his thumbs were rubbing little circles on Yuuri’s hips, making him painfully aware of the slight layer of fat that still padded some of his stomach, “I want you to become more comfortable with your body.”

Lift Me Up by  ca_te

Summary:

Before Victor came barging into his life, Yuuri didn’t know what love was. Then Victor arrived and lifted his heart up. Ep 5 reaction ficlet!

Iced by  Sandyclaws68

Summary:

A hard fall, ice packs, the Cyrillic alphabet, and Viktor all combine into one oddly comfortable situation.

Ice Posters,  Warm Pictures by  StorySongs

Summary:

Yuuri’s walls don’t stay blank forever, but this time he fills them with pictures of the real Victor.

What are we? by  angel_ponders

Summary:

The media picks up on the close relationship between Yuuri and Victor, which forces Yuuri to confront him about the nature of their relationship.

And then cuddles, because we need cuddles.

What do you Want from me? by  Goombella123

Summary:

The one in which they’re dating in all but name.

Mild spoilers past episode 3.

Hold my Heart by  Gilrael

Summary:

Yuuri can see Victor’s mouth move, but he might as well be speaking Russian – all Yuuri can think about are the three words he’s been practising in his rare moments of privacy. He’s this close to saying them, they are burning on his tongue, filling his mind…

Sparks in The Snow by  nuclearchinchilla

Summary:

Guang Hong Ji peeled Viktor’s thong off his head, throwing it aside, along with any remaining shred of his dignity. Honestly, he was just here to pretend to like hotpot, and he was feeling so traumatized right now.

Out in the cold, the red of the restaurant’s lanterns shone like large beads against the white streets and black-framed snack stands.

Sexy and I Know it, But Not by  InsominiacArrest

Leo and Guang-Hong end up trying to increase their ‘sex appeal’ after seeing this year’s competition, they laugh, they cry, they look silly in a local park

Show Me by  actualgayrobot

Summary:

Yuuri finds himself hot and bothered after his most recent Eros performance, wanting nothing more than some alone time in a private room to sort out his problems. He doesn’t plan to drag Viktor with him, it just kind of… happens.

A sister knows by  preciousbunnynoiz

Summary:

Everyone says that Victor is a terrible flirt but Mari isn’t convinced.

Off the Ice by Lirillith read by  Rhea314 (Rhea)

Summary: Guang-Hong Ji saw a lot more than naked Victor at that restaurant.

Old Wounds by  YuYam

Summary:

It’s when Viktor takes off his shirt to change when Yuuri notices a small scar he’s never seen before on his upper back. He reaches a hand forward, his fingers lightly brushing the shiny pink skin, and he blushes when Viktor turns to acknowledge him. “Would you like to see more?”

stranger in the shell of a lover by  astralelegies

Summary:

“Victor Nikiforov had always been just the right level of unattainable—an international skating celebrity who was close enough to dream about but remained constantly out of reach. Yuuri would see him at competitions, hoping for a chance to meet, praying that they wouldn’t, and thus a reasonable balance between reality and his own wilful illusion was maintained. Now Victor was his coach, his reality, and the balance was changing. He was on thin ice.”

For You, For Me by  Val_Creative

Leo shares his headphones with Guang-Hong, making him flustered about how close they are. Having an unrequited crush feels disappointing, until maybe it’s just not unrequited at all.

Masquerade by  Ashida

Summary:

“Just say the word.” came the whisper as Victor stepped close, behind them Yuuri was aware of guns out and at the ready, of confused men and questioned loyalties, here Victor was offering, and Yuuri was too selfish to say no.

“Ok.” Yuuri smiled as this game of masquerade came to an end, what would happen now, he didn’t know, he would probably die, his family would come after him and try to put a knife in his back or a bullet between his eyes, none of it mattered, because together they would fight, and the rest of the world would finally burn.

a single vowel in this metallic silence by  100demons

Summary: “Kissing you still feels like a surprise,” Yuri says thoughtfully.Post Episode 7.

Slow it down  by  SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)

Summary:  "At first, he looked at Yuuri and he just wanted.But then he started looking at Yuuri and wanting to protect him, to make him happy.Now he looks at Yuuri and he wants everything with him.It’s terrifying.“Or…people have always been easy for Victor. Yuuri is the exception to the rule.

When Everything Calms by  lizo1294

Summary:  After the kiss on the ice, Yuuri needs to be alone with Victor. But he’s also exhausted. He really should have taken that nap before the competition.

After the Free Skate by  Arisprite

Summary:  After everything that had happened, Yuri’s exhaustion is catching up to him. Victor’s arm is warm around his shoulders.

Strictly Professional by  sqbr

Summary:  Yuuri is deeply scandalised when he finds out everyone thinks he’s dating Victor.

The Aftermath of Sleepless Nights by  JDGambit

Summary:  Agape, eros, he felt it all and more and, he knew, with certainty that Yuuri felt the same. And wasn’t that just amazing?

AfterShocks by  trixiechick

Summary:  the reactions to The Kiss™ Seen Around the Skating World

In All of Creation by  flyingcrane

Summary:

Yuuri knows everyone - friends, rivals, coaches, even strangers - have given Victor the “don’t break his heart” speech. He’s not surprised when it’s his turn, but he doesn’t expect to get it from his own mother.

Some Tender Love and Care by  Momus

Summary: Victor tends to Yuuri after a long day of competition.

if only by  nsykdk

Summary:

What if Victor never meant that kiss?

The Trouble With Boyfriends and Dogs by  Wolfs_Ayame

Summary:

Makkachin is a boyfriend thief, Victor just wants to sleep, and Yuuri is a sass master.

Based off a Tumblr prompt challenge given to me by my friend Sachiro: “You can’t banish me, this is my bed too!”

Tomorrow the world breathes again by  perennials

Summary:

“Can I touch you?”

“We’re holding hands. You already are.“

“Then, can I touch you more?”

Thunder comes after by  calciseptine

Summary:

“Touch me,” Victor demands.

For Makkachin by  anomeganeyatsu

Summary:

The moment he hears the words Makkachin, hospital and not gonna make it in the same sentence his mind flashes back to Vicchan.

Bridge-Passage by  Eithe

Summary:

Yuuri and Victor are figuring out how to build a partnership, but it’s hard when their best common language is nonverbal.

When He’s Not Even Trying by  qwartooty

Summary:

“Do you have any kinks?”

Viktor looked down at Phichit, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Fetishes. Turn-ons. Things that make you go, ‘Oooh! Wow! Yeah!’”

“I know what a kink is. Why are you asking me that kind of question?”

“Don’t look so scandalized. It’s for my psychology project. Which I just told you about, but you were too busy drooling over Yuuri to listen,” Phichit said.

(post episode 7 - In which Viktor is enlightened, Phichit is a little shit, and Yuuri frantically searches for ways to keep surprising Viktor)

Momentum by  YankingAwry

Summary:

Here was how the scene went in Yuuri’s head:

Victor, frozen, clueless: the ruins of a smile on his face. But Yuuri, I thought you knew! It was only to surprise you. It meant nothing more-

Yuuri: spine limp, head hanging, tears streaking down his face and collecting at his chin, dripping like an old faucet onto the ground. Words exploding out of his mouth, wet, glottal: Then just stop! Stop doing things that mean nothing to you, and everything to me!

Too Much, Not Enough by  iceprinceofbelair

Summary: Viktor cuts his hair.

Sunrise and Winter Snow by  Crimsonpheonix271

Summary:

Sometimes Yuuri just wants to enjoy his only day off, and sometimes Makkachin disagrees with that plan. Victor just wants to stay warm and comfortable, and attached to Yuuri.

A Member of the Family by  TheUnforgivables

Summary:

Victor returns to Japan to check on Makkachin. While traveling, he muses about family and how Makkachin is pretty much the only family he has.

One Surprise after the other by  shimazakis

Yuri didn’t expect a quiet birthday, not when Victor Nikiforov was his boyfriend.

We’ll call this place our home by  perennials

“What do you want for your birthday?”

Yuuri averts his gaze, cheeks rosy-red. “You, I guess? Forever?”

Forever. Forever.

Viktor buys a ring.

-

Or, The Big Day approaches, and Viktor seeks advice from various members of the Katsuki family.

Pieces Of Me Pieces Of You by  Sandyclaws68

Birthday cake, sake, and one special present have Yuuri and Viktor crossing one more threshold in their relationship.

Savor the Taste by  RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)

Everything was sinfully good sensation under Yuuri’s palms until he couldn’t quite tell if the silk he felt was the lingerie or Viktor’s own skin. It was surreal and beautiful and made Yuuri’s head spin all bubbly like champagne.

In which it’s Yuuri’s birthday and Viktor’s eager for him to unwrap his presents.

For Good Luck by  StorySongs

Victor puts his own twist on a traditional Russian birthday tradition.

To be selfish by  shiromantic

Yuuri is turning twenty four. He starts to think about his life up until this moment and how much he’s grown. Victor listens and tells him how important he really is.

On Pirozhki and Katsudon by  Zelinxia

Summary:

Yuri knows what Agape is, but not what it means to him. As his motivator for the Onsen on Ice competition, Yuuko comes up with a solid idea that helps him find inspiration.

“What is your favorite comfort food?”