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queenshelby · 3 years

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The Singer – Part Two

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 7,970

Warning: Lots of Smut, Some Swearing

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee @cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey

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@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @chocolatehalo

***Drinks and Secrets***

Seven days after your last encounter with Kurt, you finally had his desk delivered back to his office which was located at the Dublin theatre and music district at the back building of a large venue.

Next to his office were several recording studios which meant that, whilst you were recording your new album, you saw him more frequently than you would have hoped.

In addition to working on your new album, you were working on an advertising campaign for the upcoming arts and music festival. As part of this campaign, you were recording a song with Amanda and another Dublin artist named Jeremy who gained a lot of popularity lately.

He was a nice man, in his late thirties who had a lot to offer. He played several instruments and it was easy to work with him and Amanda, at least until Amanda tried to organise a date between you and Jeremy.

She told you about it over some drinks on a Friday afternoon following a day at the recording studio.

‘I have two tickets to see the new play at the Abbey. I was going to see it with Cillian but, since we broke up, this isn’t going to happen. I thought that, perhaps, you could go with Jeremy’ Amanda said with a big grin on her face as she handed you a pint of Guinness.

‘Jeremy? Why would I go with Jeremy?’ you laughed, somewhat surprised by Amanda’s suggestion.

‘He is handsome, a real gentleman, funny and defiantly not a douche like Kurt. Despite, you said that you liked older and more mature guys’ Amanda laughed.

‘Well, perhaps you should ask him out yourself then?’ you giggled, causing Amanda to sigh.

‘I am not ready to date anyone Y/N. In fact, I don’t know if I am over Cillian yet’ Amanda said somewhat disappointed, causing you to take in a deep breath as you thought about your recent encounter with Cillian.

You were overrun with guilt as Amanda continued on, talking about her breakup with Cillian. You knew that you shouldn’t have slept with him, but then again, you didn’t know that you and Amanda would be working together again until three days ago when one of the other musicians dropped out of the project.

‘So, do you think you will give it another chance?’ you asked curiously.

‘I don’t think so. I think he made up his mind. To be honest, I don’t know if I still have feelings for him or if I just miss the sex’ Amanda laughed just before she ordered another drink.

‘Right…that good, eh?’ you said as your face turned red almost immediately. Of course, you knew the answer to your own question.

‘That’s probably too much information, I am sorry. The beer is getting to my head’ Amanda said with some embarrassment.

‘It’s fine, seriously’ you responded before telling Amanda a little bit about your relationship with Kurt.

In turn, after Amanda had more beers, you learned that Cillian liked to take control in the bedroom and you weren’t surprised about this in the slightest, thinking back to the night at your apartment where he took you over Kurt’s study desk. The same study desk that was now in Kurt’s office once again. The thought of it made you giggle internally.

But then, the conversation changed and became more serious when Amanda told you the real reasons behind their recent break up. She believed that she was at fault, pushing him away slowly over time with her jealousy and trust issues, trying to prevent him from socialising and leaving him no space for himself. She accused him of cheating several times but later found out that there was nothing behind the rumours. Cillian eventually had enough of her antics and broke it off again.

‘Oh my god, I am sorry. I usually don’t drink’ Amanda said as she observed your facial expression when she continued to talk about Cillian. She was certainly more direct and open about her sex life than you had hoped.

‘I think I should get you home’ you said with a warm smile, feeling a sense of responsibility, and Amanda nodded in agreement.

Since you only had two beers over two hours, unlike Amanda who had at least six or seven, maybe more, you were still able to drive and you helped Amanda to your car, hoping that press wouldn’t notice her state. After all, she had quite a following herself.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s house which was where she was still living at the time as the settlement of her property was delayed.

Supporting her, you walked towards the front door and rang the doorbell. Within a minute, Cillian opened and couldn’t believe his own eyes when he saw you with his completely drunk ex-girlfriend.

‘Hi’ Cillian said somewhat surprised as he took hold of Amanda. She barely managed to walk by herself.

‘Hi’ you said, your eyes avoiding his.

‘Uhm, thank you…’ Cillian chuckled, not knowing what else to say to you, before asking you whether you wanted to come inside.

‘I would love to use your bathroom, if I could’ you laughed as you had to pull over earlier when Amanda got sick and your clothes smelled like vomit.

‘Sure, common in’ Cillian said just before he pointed you to the bathroom and helped Amanda getting out of her vomit-stained clothes.

You left the bathroom door open slightly as you cleaned yourself up and observed Cillian getting a bucket from the laundry before telling Amanda to have a rest.

After he helped her to lie down, placing the bucket next to the bed, he came into the bathroom to speak to you. He left the bedroom door open slightly so that he could hear if Amanda was getting sick, worried that she might miss the bucket in her state.

‘What happened? It’s only 6 o’clock’ Cillian asked almost amused.

‘She just kept drinking Cilly…I don’t know’ you said with a chuckle as you tried to wash the vomit out of your expensive vintage blouse.

‘Beer?’ he asked curiously, causing you to nod.

‘Fuck. I am in for an interesting evening then’ Cillian said somewhat irritated, causing you to laugh out loud.

‘So am I because I meant to see my sister and her husband for dinner at 7 o’clock and I smell like puke now’ you giggled, seeing the humour in all of this.

‘Have a shower here. I will get you a clean t-shirt’ Cillian suggested and you accepted his offer gratefully.

A minute later, Cillian gave you a towel and one of his black t-shirts. You closed the bathroom door behind you and got undressed.

When you stepped into the shower, you were slightly confused by all of the buttons. You never saw anything quite like this. You pressed one of the buttons and nothing happened. Then you pressed the next and, finally, water came rushing out from the top like waterfall but, it was cold.

‘Dammit’ you said loudly as the cold water came rushing down over your body, barely managing to wash away the little bit of soap you had placed on your chest and breasts earlier.

‘Having problems with the shower?’ Cillian asked from outside the bathroom door a few seconds after he heard you yell.

‘There is no hot water’ you said as you stepped out of the shower, wrapped the towel around you and opened the door.

Cillian stepped inside, gazing over your semi naked body for a second or two, before turning on the shower for you.

‘Wow, that’s high tech’ you giggled as you stood right next to Cillian, his body awfully close to yours.

‘Isn’t that usually how you young people roll?’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to give him a slight nudge and, in the process of it, loosing hold of your towel on one side.

Cillian noticed immediately and his jaw dropped as he drew a deep breath.

‘Cillian?’ you whispered as you noticed him looking at the ceiling, purposely trying to avoid eye contact with you.

‘Yeah’ he said with a low voice as he looked back at you but, instead of saying anything else to him, you pressed your lips onto his tentatively.

Cillian gave into the kiss and parted your lips with his slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth in order to meet yours.

Your hands reached for his cheeks and the back of his head while your towel dropped to the floor.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this Y/N’ Cillian whispered as your lips drifted apart after what seemed like an eternity.

‘No, we shouldn’t’ you responded despite the fact that you wanted him, right then and there.

But, his lips landed on yours again almost instantly, ignoring the interfering thoughts in your heads.

As you were kissing, Cillian’s hand wandered over the back of your body and then in between you, immediately finding your wet mound.

You let out a low moan as his fingers began to gently massage your clit before one of his fingers dipped inside of you momentarily.

On your left upper thigh, you could feel his erection press against you, restricted by his tight and ripped jeans.

You pushed your mound against his hand as much as you could while he swallowed up your moans, continuing to kiss you passionately.

But, as he began to apply more pressure against your clit, you had to pull away from his mouth and moan escaped you.

His speed increased and you let your head fall forward against his chest and shoulder, taking in the scent of his aftershave and moaning into the thin black cotton of his t-shirt.

Your legs began to quiver within minutes and his magical fingers on your clit brought you over the edge fairly quickly.

You held onto Cillian, continuing to moan against his chest as your orgasm washed over you and he finally slowed down his movements.

‘Fuck’ you whispered as Cillian chuckled at the fact that he just made you cum within less than five minutes.

‘You should have a shower now or you’ll be late for dinner’ Cillian winked before pressing his lips onto yours again.

‘What about you?’ you asked quietly as you ran your hand over his crotch.

‘I better check on Amanda’ he said somewhat reluctantly before leaving you by yourself in the bathroom.

After a quick shower, you got dressed and returned to the living room where Cillian was sitting, watching a documentary.

When you approached him to give him a kiss, he pulled away.

‘We cannot keep doing this Y/N’ Cillian said quietly and it was obvious to you that he had been doing a lot of thinking while you were in the shower.

‘You are right’ you murmured, upset by his response.

‘Are we okay?’ he asked and you nodded.

‘Thanks for the shower’ you said a little upset before grabbing your keys and phone and returning to your car.

***Family***

Later that evening, at dinner with your sister and her husband, your sister asked you about your music projects and, of course, your love life.

She knew that you had separated from Kurt and, even though you called it a break, it was obvious to her and anyone from your family that this was final.

She was glad that it was over. Finally, you were free from him.

When she asked you if there was anyone else, you couldn’t help it but tell her about Cillian. But you didn’t tell her his name, nor did you tell her how you had met.

All that you told her was that there was a man who you had slept with and who you think you might like and this was the first time that you admitted your feelings for Cillian to yourself as well.

It felt strange to you as, initially, when you met Cillian, you couldn’t stand him but now that you got to know each other more intimately, this changed.

When you told your sister that he was 43, making him exactly twenty years older than you, her jaw dropped.

‘Forget about him Y/N. Honestly’ she told you, thinking that he was too old for you and the press would rip you to pieces about it, just as it happened with your ex-girlfriend which emotionally destroyed you at the time.

‘I’ve grown since then, emotionally and mentally and I cannot help it. His presence does something to me and, currently, I work with him all the time’ you said with a deep sigh.

‘Is he a musician?’ your sister asked curiously and you shook your head.

‘He’s an actor’ you admitted but went no further than that regardless of how much your sister was poking around, asking you for his name.

‘It doesn’t matter because it isn’t going anywhere with us and you are right, it’s probably better that way’ you said when she asked you for his name for the third time.

Your sister gave up eventually and, after several glasses of wine, you decided to stay at her house for the night before a big day at the studio finalising the schedule for the music festival.

The next morning, when you tried to start your car, the engine had stopped working. It was a brand-new car and you were extremely irritated and contacted the car dealer immediately.

The car dealer advised you that they couldn’t get the car in for repair until Monday and your sister luckily offered to drive you into Dublin city.

‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ she asked as she pulled up in front of the studio and nodded. You still had twenty minutes before your meeting with Cillian and Kurt.

You sat down at a booth table in the small café beneath the theatre and the waitress was quick to take your order and bring you some water.

‘The coffee here is really good’ you said to your sister but she seemed somewhat distant and unresponsive.

‘June? Are you with me?’ you chuckled and, suddenly she looked at you with wide open eyes and whispered ‘Cillian Murphy’.

‘What about him?’ you asked absolutely flustered.

‘Over there, at the counter’ your sister then whispered with excitement, causing you to take in a deep breath. He wasn’t the person who you wanted to see right at this moment, especially after what you told your sister last night.

‘He is my cheat pass’ your sister then said, causing you to inadvertently spit out some of the water in your mouth.

‘You are joking?’ you asked, causing your sister to shake her head and continue to stare at him.

‘I am going to say hello’ she said determined and you took her hand quickly and responded ‘no you are not’ which was when Cillian noticed you and walked over towards your table.

‘Morning Y/N’ he said with a smile before giving you a friendly kiss on the cheek.

‘Hi Cilly’ you said before introducing him to your sister with some embarrassment.

Your sister was quick to move to one side, indicating for Cillian to sit down next to her and he didn’t think anything of it and joined you both for coffees and a snack to eat.

The three of you engaged in some small talk and Cillian informed you that Kurt had called him earlier that day telling him that he was sick and wouldn’t be coming in.

You were glad about it in a way but it also meant that it was just you and Cillian working on the schedule which might be a problem after last night.

After you drank your coffees and engaged in some more conversation, each of you went your separate ways. Cillian and you had a days’ work ahead of you and your sister had to get back home.

A few minutes after you left the café, you got a test message from your sister. ‘Fuck he’s hot. Can you invite him for drinks with me or something’ it said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Cillian asked as he observed your facial expressions and small giggles.

‘Nothing’ you responded before putting your phone away, ignoring your sister’s text message.

***Working Together***

The day went by quickly and you managed to be quite productive, finishing the schedule for the festival by 4 o’clock. There was no arguing anymore between you and Cillian and, with Kurt not being there, there was also no shouting.

As you were working together, you and Cillian kept your distance from each other, trying as hard as you could to stay focused and professional.

You sent the schedule off to Kurt for consideration and communication to the artists and Cillian offered you to drive you home after you told him about your car.

You agreed reluctantly as it was raining but all of your focus and professionalism went out of the window as soon as Cillian pulled up in front of your apartment.

‘Uhm, would you like to come up for a drink?’ you asked, knowing exactly that you shouldn’t have asked him that after last night.

‘I shouldn’t’ Cillian responded reluctantly. He knew he couldn’t get involved with you again. Another relationship was not what he wanted, especially not with someone as young as you.

‘I know, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s fine. Thank you for driving me home. Have a good night’ you said before giving him a friendly kiss on his cheek before getting out of his car.

As you reached the front door of your apartment building and searched through your bag for the key, you heard the door of Cillian’s car close.

You looked back and saw Cillian approach you with a hesitant smile.

‘Changed your mind?’ you smirked as he walked up the pathway leading to the front door of your apartment block.

‘Yeah, I suppose’ Cillian smiled with his hands in his pockets like a shy schoolboy while he was waiting for you to open the door.

You finally found your key and you both took the elevator up to your apartment, keeping your distance from each other.

You opened the door to your apartment and Cillian followed you inside almost shyly, remaining standing in the doorway and asking ‘before I do anything stupid, it isn’t really a drink that you are after, right?’

‘No. In fact, all I’ve got is tap water’ you said almost embarrassed and, just after you did, you found yourself pinned against the wall and Cillian crashed his lips onto yours in a haste.

You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore yours in a passionate kiss.

With one foot, you pushed your apartment door closed behind you before you gave into the Cillian completely.

‘Not fire safety compliant’ Cillian murmured as your lips drifted apart, causing you to look at him with some confusion.

‘The door. It’s opening into the wrong direction’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to raise your eyebrows and start to laugh.

‘You are weird’ you chuckled before you pressed your lips back onto his, thinking why on earth he would have noticed this in the heat of the moment.

‘Coming from the woman with a Harry Potter tattoo beneath her left breast’ Cillian chuckled after your lips drifted apart again momentarily and he began to unbutton your mustard-coloured vintage shirt.

‘What can I say…I am magic’ you chuckled before you pulled him closer again for another kiss.

Each and every kiss was passionate and urgent, full of desire for each other.

‘Didn’t we say we wouldn’t do this again?’ you asked as your shirt landed on the floor.

‘You are the one who initiated it by asking me upstairs for a glass of tap water’ Cillian chuckled. ‘Do you want to stop?’ he then asked, causing you to shake your head and pull his t-shirt over his head exposing his bare chest.

‘Didn’t think so’ Cillian smirked before he trailed kisses over your breasts, which were still covered by a black lace bra, and then all the way down to your stomach. He dropped to his knees slowly while his lips explored your body and his hands began to fondle with the button and zipper of your jeans, pushing them down gently.

You let out a soft moan as his hands ran over the front of your treasure. His face was awfully close to your most intimate area and you could feel his hot breath on your wet mound, fanning through the lace of your panties.

With your jeans stuck over your ankles, Cillian pushed your legs apart with his hands as wide as he could.

‘Don’t move’ he instructed, causing you to take in a sharp inhale and, just as you did, he hooked the index fingers of both of his hands into the hem of your panties and pulled them down all the way to your ankles.

You wanted to push your legs together, feeling vulnerable now that he got such a close look at your wet mound. But, Cillian’s hands wouldn’t allow as he held your thighs in place while pushing you all the way back at the freshly painted wall of your apartment.

Cillian then moved to your inner thighs and his soft, wet tongue administered little licks, alternating with kisses, as he moved back and forth between your left and right thigh, ascending higher and higher as he did.

‘Hmm….fuck’ you moaned in anticipation, causing Cillian to smile against the flesh of your right thigh before looking up at you for a brief moment, his blue eyes meeting yours.

You bit your lip suggestively and then watched as that pink, wet, soft tongue of his slid out of his mouth in a flattened state and land on the right outer lip of your wet mound.

A loud moan escaped you as soon as his tongue moved closer towards your centre, giving your slit a very long, very slow, torturous lick.

You placed your hands on his head and ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue licked up and down before sinking it into your entrance once slightly, making you squirm.

‘Hold still’ he instructed as he pushed your thighs apart again with his hands.

With both outer lips equally swollen, you watched as he made his tongue pointed again, spreads your swollen outer lips and then licks both of your inner lips from back to front at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. He then ran his tongue over your clit hood and gently pulled the hood back, revealing your swollen, throbbing, pulsing clit.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as he continued to lick you. He took his time, slowly licking all of the surfaces of your clit.

Unlike most men you've been with, he knew what he was doing and you soon began to shudder and shake as he covered this territory.

After as little as ten minutes, you could feel yourself getting close to your high.

‘Cillian, don’t fucking stop’ you moaned as your hands held onto his head firmly as he continued to suck on your clit gently.

Your orgasm washed over you almost instantly and you lost all of your self-control while Cillian kept pushing your legs apart with his hands and stimulating your clit with his mouth.

Your legs wanted to give way shortly after you came down from your high and Cillian got off his knees quickly before pressing his lips onto yours in a haste, wanting you to taste your own juices that had pooled across his lips.

You moaned into his mouth while your hand reached between the both of you, running over his erection which was trapped beneath his tight jeans.

‘I am not done yet’ Cillian said as he moved your hand away from his crotch and pinned you back against the wall, kissing you again passionately.

While he was kissing you, he ran his hand over your wet mound, collecting your wet juices with his fingers before bring his finger up to your mouth.

You took his fingers into your mouth, licking them suggestively until he pulls them away from your mouth again.

Without words, his blue eyes starred into yours, full of want and desire and, without you noticing, his hand returned back in between your legs where he now, effortlessly, slid both of his fingers into your warmth.

You let out a loud moan, while Cillian looked at you, taking in your facial expressions. His lips were parted slightly as he observed your moans and you leaned forward to kiss him, but he wouldn’t allow it.

Within a few seconds, he found the magic spot inside of you and proceeded to tease it with his fingertips.

‘Holy Fucking Christ’ you screamed in shock. No one, not even yourself, had found this spot before and your legs were ready to give in right then and there.

‘Oh my god, stop…I mean don’t stop. Fuck, this is intense’ you said with laboured breathing as you starred at Cillian who responded with a satisfied grin.

‘Just relax and let go’ Cillian said before he pressed his lips back onto yours.

The pressure he used was gentle at first until he could feel you relax, which is when he increased his movements. You were already wet but, when his fingers massaged your g-spot, you began dripping on to the dark wooden floor.

‘Cillian, fuck fuck fuck, oh god’ you moaned as you felt a sensation you never felt run through your body. It was more intense than anything else you had ever experienced and, without being able to control yourself, you screamed loudly as your walls began to tighten around his fingers.

‘That’s it baby’ Cillian said as he watched your eyes close shut and listened to your loud moans while another orgasm washed over you.

As he did, he could feel a gush of wetness run over his hand and down to the floor, But you didn’t notice, you were in a trance, your legs were shaking by that point and you were entirely consumed by the most intense orgasm you ever had.

As you came down from your high, the wall behind you preventing you from collapsing to the floor, you looked at Cillian in disbelieve before noticing the puddle of clear liquid that had formed on the floor.

Cillian grinned, his tongue running over his lips suggestively as he watched your embarrassment.

‘Oh my god, what the fuck. This never happened before’ you said somewhat embarrassed when you noticed the puddle.

‘I am good then’ Cillian said before he pressed his lips back onto yours and wiped his hand on his jeans.

‘I am so sorry’ you said as your lips drifted apart, your mind filled with embarrassment about the mess you just made.

‘For this? Don’t be ridiculous’ Cillian said before kissing you again. ‘In fact, I think it’s sexy’ he added after your lips drifted apart.

‘Would you like to break in my new bed?’ you smirked as you took off the remainder of your clothes and indicating to Cillian to follow you.

‘It would be my pleasure’ Cillian smirked before he quickly kicked off his shoes and picked you up, remembering the location well from the last time he visited you.

As he held you against him and walked, you could feel his hardness pressing into you through his jeans and throbbing against your wet and naked mound.

He carried you to your bed and, with one swift movement, you found yourself with your back on the mattress.

As he took off his jeans and briefs all at the same time, Cillian couldn’t help but stare at your naked beauty, right there in front of him.

You could see his body respond as his hard member twitched and a few drops of precum escaped and fell to your bedroom floor.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to join you on the bed, hoovering over you and planting kisses over your body before meeting your lips again.

Then your lips were sucking and nibbling on his as he pulled away after each kiss, teasing you and occasionally your tongues would meet and fight each other.

No one ever kissed you quite like he did. It was intense and full of desire. Each kiss was different, new and exciting.

After your lips drifted apart again and while Cillian once more tried to take control, directing you to the position he wanted you in, you pushed him beneath you instead, catching him by surprise.

‘Do you have condoms?’ you asked as he was lying beneath you, thinking that you should have thought about this much earlier.

‘What happened to the ones from last time?’ Cillian asked as his hands continued to trail over your body, paying particular attention to your breasts.

‘They are in Kurt’s desk which is now in Kurt’s office’ you said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I can get dressed and walk to the shop. It isn’t far’ Cillian suggested before letting out a deep sigh knowing that his erection would defiantly not come down if he had to walk to the shops.

‘I am on birth control and, after Kurt, I just had all of my check-ups done’ you said, causing Cillian to nod in agreement before trying to take charge once again. But you wouldn’t budge and held him down against the bed playfully.

‘You really don’t like to give up control, do you?’ you grinned, causing Cillian to respond with a quiet chuckle.

‘No, but I am willing to try if you manage to tame me’ he winked jokingly before trying to pull you closer for another kiss.

‘I think I might just have the right thing for you Mr Murphy’ you grinned as you pulled away and reached for your bedside table.

From your bedside table, you pulled out a pair of leather handcuffs and held them up suggestively.

‘Do I get to use them on you some time?’ Cillian chuckled before he willingly put his hands above his head, ready for you to tie him against the metal frame of your bedhead.

‘Maybe’ you smirked as you secured the cuffs against his wrists and the bedhead, leaving him completely at your mercy.

By this time, the windows of your bedroom had become foggy, with precipitation running down the inside of them and the room was starting to smell like two people in heat, lust filling the air.

With Cillian’s wrists tied to the bedhead, you were now the one who hoovered over Cillian, planting kisses over him and rubbing your wet folds over his upper thighs suggestively. Random drops of his precum were caught by your skin and you got intermittent glimpses of his cock, still rigid this whole time.

He hated and loved the way you were teasing him all at the same time until, finally, you made your descent over his perfectly shaped chest and stomach and all the way down towards his hard member.

Cillian inhaled sharply as he watched you lick his precum of his cockhead, using your tongue only.

He pulled on his restraints, desperate for you to take his rigid member into your mouth as you continued to tease him with only small licks.

‘Patience’ you whispered before, finally, you took all of him deep into your mouth, making him groan loudly as he bottomed out in your throat.

Whilst your hands paid attention to his balls, you began to bob your head up and down before taking his hard shaft into one of your hands and licking around his tip only.

After about ten minutes, Cillian’s breathing soon became laboured and you knew that he was getting close as you could feel his cock pulsate inside your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned until, eventually, your motions came to a halt and you shifted your body back up towards his until your lips met his once again.

While you exchanged a passionate kiss, you swung one leg over Cillian’s waist and reached between you, holding his hard shaft and carefully guiding it inside you.

‘Jesus’ was all that escaped him after your lips drifted apart and you lowered yourself onto him, taking inch by inch of his cock inside of you until you sat flush against him.

‘Hmm yes’ you moaned as you could feel all of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you completely.

‘Fuck you feel good’ Cillian moaned, trying to pull against his restraints in order to touch you. But his efforts were futile.

His warm cock felt amazing inside you and, once you adjusted to his size, you began to move, up and down, backwards and forwards.

You flicked your head back, riding him fast and hard. His breath was laboured and it was obvious to you that he was enjoying it, no longer trying to get out of his restraints.

‘God damn Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he watched your breasts bounce slightly up and down with every movement and it wasn’t long until your fingernails dug down into his chest, leaving some visible marks.

‘Come inside me’ you moaned, turned on by the thought of it and this was all he needed to hear in order to let go completely.

‘I am so fucking close’ you moaned and Cillian groaned in sync with you as he tried to thrust back up into you despite the restraints.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned again, his cock beginning to throb inside of you and, just as he groaned once last time, you screamed his name as your third orgasm washed over you.

Cillian and you came together, in sync, and your walls contracted just as he filled you with his warm cum.

After you rode out your orgasm, you slowly uncuffed him before lifting your body up slowly, allowing his cock to slide out of you.

You could feel his cum leak from your core and down your thigh as you got up.

‘Oh wow’ you grinned sheepishly as you noticed the large amount of cum on your core and thigh.

‘Yeah sorry, it’s been like a week’ Cillian chuckled but you didn’t mind at all and collected some of it with your finger. You brought your finger to your mouth, licking it suggestively.

Your actions caused Cillian to raise his eyebrows and stare at you in disbelieve.

‘Well, I wanted to see what you taste like’ you smirked before you collapsed next to him.

You curled up against Cillian’s chest while he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers gently tracing over your back.

You pulled the sheets over you, feeling the cold air passing through the room, the heat of Cillian’s naked body radiating to yours.

‘I don’t really want to get up’ Cillian said, half covered by your sheets, starring at you with his deep blue eyes.

‘Then don’t. Stay here tonight’ you smiled before pulling him close for another kiss.

‘It’s only 8 o’clock Y/N. I probably should go’ Cillian said, causing you to pout.

‘I could order some chinese and a bottle of wine…we can watch a movie and then we can fuck again’ you suggested, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I didn’t think that you could handle any more’ Cillian chuckled as he could see the exhaustion on your face.

‘Oh trust me, I can’ you said.

Cillian reluctantly agreed and you got up from beneath the sheets to get your phone to place the order.

Luckily, your apartment was a loft style studio penthouse and your large bed was in the middle of the large room, right in front of your flat screen TV.

‘What do you want to watch?’ Cillian asked as he flicked through the movies on Netflix and you finally agreed on a scary movie you had heard about from your sister.

But, neither of you paid much attention to the rather horrible movie. You enjoyed your chinese food and wine and joked, talked about almost anything and everything until, finally, the credits came on.

‘That was terrible’ Cillian laughed and you agreed and apologised for your choice of movie.

‘At least the main actor was hot’ you giggled as you got up and placed the chine food containers into the bin in your kitchen area.

‘Do you want me to introduce you?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Nah, I don’t get involved with actors’ you said as you sneaked back under the covers. You were both still completely naked, covered by the doona.

‘Is that right?’ Cillian laughed before his lips crashed back onto yours and you quickly found yourself beneath him.

‘I can’t believe you can actually go again’ you said delighted as you could feel his hard member poke against your upper thigh, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Well, I am in bed with a very sexy woman…one who doesn’t get involved with actors apparenty….so maybe I should leave’ Cillian joked as he ran his hand through your hair gently.

‘I will make an exception for you’ you smirked just before Cillian got up from the bed and walked to your bathroom ensuite.

Seconds later, he returned with a large white towel and placed it onto the bed, causing you to look at him with surprise.

But, before you could put any more thought to it, he kneeled on the bed and took your legs, putting them over his shoulders.

‘Uhm…’ you said, somewhat surprised by his choice of position and, before you could say anything else, he interlaces your fingers with his and you felt the head of his cock rest against your entrance.

Cillian shifted his hips back and forth, running the length of his shaft and head over your wet folds and then pushed the head into your already soaking entrance.

You take a deep, shuddering breath as you felt his swollen cockhead push your lips aside and stretch you.

Your walls relaxed while you felt even more wetness flowing from you as Cillian gently pressed forward and you could feel your walls stretch around him once again.

Cillian leaned forward, bending at the waist while he entered you slowly and fully until he bottomed out inside of you and there it was again, this unfamiliar feeling.

You let out a loud moan as you could feel the tip of his cock press against your g-spot which was when you began to realise why he chose this position and why had placed a towel beneath you.

‘You are so fucking beautiful’ he whispered while you watched as he started to pull out again almost all the way before pushing back in and pausing when his cockhead hits your g-spot again.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as, with some subtle movements of his hips, he rubbed the head against your g-spot, making your fingers and toes curl.

Then he pulled out again almost all the way as he waited a few seconds for you to swell tighter. During that time, he ran his fingertips up and down your thighs and gave you grin before he started thrusting back into you again. He was slow and gentle, similar to when he his fingers first stimulated your sweet spot.

Once Cillian felt you relax completely and give in to the sensation of being penetrated this way, his thrusts became more forceful and fast.

The temperature of your apartment had increased significantly as sweat starts pouring down your bodies. Your juices once again started dripping from you and down his shaft. Your wetness was pooling underneath you two.

Cillian watched your toned stomach muscles flex as you cannot stay still as he reached down to rub your clit in circles, clockwise and counterclockwise while continuing his thrusting. Your breathing, which had started to become irregular, was now erratic. He smiled and enjoyed watching your breasts jiggle everywhere as you squirmed, trying to hold still.

Most of your body has now become a little numb, and as you felt him pulse and throb deep inside you and hear him moving in and out of your wetness, your eyes start glazing over a bit and rolling back into your head.

And then the intense feeling started again, at the top of your head. You couldn’t completely explain it and it was the most calm, relaxing feeling but with an undercurrent of tension that just gradually builds as that feeling flows over your face, neck, breasts, stomach, arms, and legs. When the feeling hit between your legs, your walls clamped down as hard as they could on his thick shaft.

‘Cillian, fuck…please don’t stop’ you moaned and with a loud cry, your body began to shiver, quiver, shake, bend, shudder, and contort as a multiwave orgasm rolled through you. Each wave feeling like a lightning bolt from head to toe as your tension lessened with each episode. Cillian pinned you down as you could not possibly stay still as he watched you writhe in ecstasy.

You almost blacked out as your whole body couldn’t stop coming. Just like the last time when Cillian massaged your g-spot, the pool of juices beneath you had quickly become a puddle and you could soon feel his balls swell up against your mound.

When your walls tightened around him, you could feel his cum rising within his shaft just before, with one loud groan, he filled you again with his warm seed.

Small tears fell from your eyes as you finally came down from your high and Cillian carefully pulled out of you, allowing you to rest your legs on the mattress.

‘Fuck Y/N, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ Cillian asked as soon as he noticed your teary eyes and flushed face.

‘No, it was just…’ you said as you took a deep breath before continuing your sentence. ‘It was very fucking intense’ you said, your breath heavy.

‘In a good way I hope’ Cillian chuckled before pressing his lips onto yours.

‘In the best way’ you giggled before you curled up against him.

After several gentle kisses and your hands roaming each other’s bodies, you eventually both drifted off to sleep.

***The Watch***

The following morning, you were both woken up by Cillian’s phone ringing at 8 o’clock. It was Kurt and he was persistent after Cillian didn’t pick up the first time.

Half asleep, with your head still resting on his chest, he answered the phone and talked to him.

‘Hey Kurt, what’s up?’ Cillian asked as he was waking up slowly while you began to trace your fingers over Cillian’s chest, playing with the little bit of chest hair.

‘I got the schedule last night and wondered whether you want to talk about it’ Kurt said politely just as Cillian wiggled around, stretching himself while you planted small kisses over his chest and down towards your stomach.

‘Uhm, talk…yes’ Cillian said as he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that you disappeared beneath the doona, your hands running over his upper thighs.

‘Could you come to my office in an hour?’ Kurt asked as Cillian took in a deep breath as your hands ran over his hardening cock.

‘Fuck’ was all that escaped him as he suddenly felt your warm lips wrapped around his base and he instantly went completely hard in your mouth.

‘Cillian?’ Kurt asked surprised by Cillian’s response.

‘Yes…fuck…sorry…9 o’clock?’ Cillian asked as he tried hard not to moan while you began to bob your head up and down, occasionally twirling your tongue over his head.

‘Yeah, if that’s alright?’ Kurt asked again, somewhat concerned by Cillian’s strange responses.

‘Yeah…’ Cillian responded before holding his breath, a deep groan stuck in his throat.

‘Can you call Y/N? She is being a fucking cunt not picking up my calls even though we need to work together on this’ Kurt complained.

‘Mhhm…’ Cillian said, pretending to listen to what Kurt was saying while you swallowed his length whole, moving your head up and down over and over again.

‘I actually think she is seeing someone’ Kurt went on to say as you ran your tongue piercing up and down Cillian’s shaft.

‘Aha’ Cillian responded trying to hold back his release, so close to coming.

‘I have to go man’ Cillian barely managed to say as your hands wrapped around his tight balls.

‘See you soon’ Kurt said before hanging up and just as he did a loud groan fell from Cillian’s lip.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned just as his shaft pulsated heavily and he filled your mouth with his warm and sweet cum.

You looked up from beneath the doona, opening your mouth slightly and suggestively before swallowing all of it with a grin.

‘So, what did my ex want?’ you asked sheepishly, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘You are so fucking bad’ he laughed before pulling you close for a kiss and telling you about the meeting.

‘You didn’t last very long despite your conversation with Kurt’ you giggled as you jumped up, walking towards the shower.

‘What can I say, blow jobs are my weakness especially coming from someone so talented’ Cillian smirked before he grabbed you from behind, kissing your neck and following you to the shower.

‘But, that’s not to say that we can’t keep going in the shower’ he grinned and so you went, spending twenties minutes making love while streams of hot water ran over your bodies.

After you came out of the shower and starred into the mirror you noticed that both, Cillian and you, were covered with small little bruises, scratches and bite marks.

You never quite had a night like this with anyone before and you weren’t ashamed. Nonetheless, you opted for a turtle neck jumper and some tight jeans.

Cillian had no choice but to wear the clothes he wore the night before, including the pair of jeans which had some obvious stains.

‘Sorry’ you chuckled as you noticed the stains.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll throw them in the wash and they’ll be grand’ he chuckled before you both walked to his car.

Ten minutes later, you arrived at Kurt’s office together and you felt the need to explain to him that your car broke down and Cillian was kind enough to offer to pick you up.

Kurt wasn’t suspicious by the fact that you arrived together, nor was he suspicious about the little bruises on Cillian’s neck. It was something else that, during your meeting with him, caught his attention and this was Cillian’s watch. It looked awfully familiar.

An hour into your meeting, rewriting half of the schedule because of Kurt being difficult and Cillian continuing to argue with him, Amanda and Jeremy arrived as well to finalise the advertising campaign for the music part of the festival.

Immediately, as soon as Amanda walked into Kurt’s office, she pulled Cillian aside.

‘Where the fuck were you last night?’ she asked quietly but everyone heard it, causing Jeremy to laugh.

‘I don’t think I have to answer that Amanda’ Cillian responded with some irritation before taking the paper schedule off Kurt and walking to the utilities room. Of course, she noticed the small bruises on his neck. It was obvious to her that he’s been with another woman.

You and Jeremy followed Cillian knowing very well that, the last time he tried to use the copier in the utilities room, he almost broke it and one of the administration assistants had banned him from ever touching it again.

As you were gone, Kurt had time to speak to Amanda in private.

‘I think I have an idea as to where Cillian may have been last night’ he chuckled, catching Amanda’s interest.

#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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cartierbin · 3 years

Note

pls could you do a dilf!minho smut? haha your dilf ones are so good

ofc baby. tysm.

『 pairing — minho x reader

genre — smut, + dilf!minho but sex therapist type shit

word count — 1.532k 』

smut under the cut !

“I don’t know what it is to be quite honest with you”. you muttered, fiddling your fingers and hastily checking the clock every five minutes. it could’ve been any minute until your husband came home, and you knew he was going to ask you where you were. the last thing you wanted to say was that you were out in the late hours of the night, seeking help from your therapist. especially your sex therapist.

dr. lee minho shifts a little his seat, his muscular yet lean body complimented his grey suit perfectly, and his circular lenses made him look that much more enticing. his jet black hair was parted to the left without flaw. your therapist was sexy and he knew it. and most importantly you knew it. It was hard to believe this was a man with three children. he glides his tongue over the span of his parched lips and continued scribbling in his notes. when his eyes focused back on you they were serious. for some reason whenever he gazed at you it almost looked as if he was reading you, like he was prepared to tell you your future out of a crystal ball. he held knowledge and wisdom in his eyes even if he didn’t say much of anything. “what you have to understand is that communication in the bedroom is really essential. if you and your partner are not communicating then you will never get what you need”. he always talked with his hands too, he was confident with every word and it’s clear that he knew what he was talking about. and if he wasn’t he was for damn sure good at hiding his uncertainty. “that’s the thing I don’t know where to start. I ask him if he wants to try new things but he turns all of my ideas down and I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’m afraid if this continues I don’t think this relationship would last. does that sound childish of me? shifting away from him because of the sex?”.

“baby what I need you to do first is stop tearing yourself down with this. don’t invalidate your feelings. sex in a relationship is just as important as everything else and we’re only humans, we have needs. and we want our partners to be able to meet them. I think your dilemma is stemming from the fact that you think you’re being too pushy if you ask for more. and you need to stop that”. it wasn’t until you started coming to his sessions where you realized someone could talk in such a demanding tone but yet so loving. he never spoke as if he knew it all even though he did, but he spoke as if he sincerely loved you and only wanted the best for you. you nod at his response taking heed to his advice. he continues, “and once you stop that you’ll be able to ask without that weighty feeling on your shoulders”. you nod yet again, all of a sudden feeling kind of fidgety and anxious. “so where do I began?”. he places his notepad on the table beside him and stands to his feet, ushering you over with a hand. when you stood up you were fairly intimidated by his austere demeanor. you knew he was probably a playful man outside of the office but in it, he was much different. he guided you to the long mirror between two potted plants, making you stand right in front of him. you practically shuddered once you gazed right past your reflection and directly at his while he was standing directly behind you.

“loosen up a little. we’re going to do an exercise”. you nod, “what is it?”. he licks his lips again and makes a ponytail out of your hair, bringing it all behind your shoulders so you could get a clear view of yourself. you grew hot in the face from his gestures. “I’m going to be your husband. and you’re going to look into this mirror and tell me what you want more of. no matter what is it I’ll have to listen to you. this will help you gain confidence in yourself so when it happens in real time you’ll be prepared and not embarrassed when you hear yourself”. your heart steadily pounded at his request. you kindly obliged to his orders. “before we start I’d like to know if it’s okay to touch you?”. you agreed to that request as well, not really caring where and how. you weren’t prepared for him to immediately attached his lips to your neck, peppering specks of kisses along the coast of your shoulders. his lips were so gentle and heedful, kind of like the way he spoke. you stood there for a while tensed, not knowing what to do and being absolutely frozen on the tingling feelings his lips left you with. he spoke into his next kiss, “go on, tell me what you want”. your eyes fell to his veiny calloused hands and you couldn’t believe what you were about to say but you had to say it. it was apart of the exercise after all. “I want you to touch me”. you admitted weakly, your voice going hoarse between syllables. you were nervous and you didn’t know what to expect. his mouth moved further up your neck and you could see his arm slither around your waist to the front button of your jeans, undoing them and zipping down your zipper. you stopped breathing completely once he crammed his hand inside the front of your panties.

“stop sounding like that. control your voice”. he demanded, you gulped hard and twitched when you felt his fingertips rub the surface of your already moistened folds. “rub my clit please”. you sort of whined. he followed suit, circling it around lazily. your heart was throbbing in your ears. he wasn’t even doing much and it felt fucking good. you drew in a sharp breath, realizing that watching yourself get touched in a mirror was ten times hotter than you thought it would be. he swivels his head over to the other side of your neck, catching abandoned spots of skin in between his lips to suck. “this is all you want baby?”. he spoke in a tone so dark you wanted to just fall to your knees. you were already starting to throb at his gestures. “can you rub it faster please?”. you stutter, mentally cursing at yourself for doing so and being oblivious to the fact that minho thought it was kind of sexy. he does so. “don’t leave it at that. tell me how wet you are. tell me what your pussy feels like”. he could feel his fingers becoming slippery with your slick, it was getting harder and harder to rub you. It turned him on but it was only obvious, you felt his bulge poking you from behind. you breathed, “my pussy is throbbing so hard I’m getting so wet-“. he languidly tongue kisses your jawline and an overwhelming wave washed over your body. “mm what do you need?”. electricity courses through your torso. it was hot the way his mouth moved passionately against your skin as if he’s known it for years. “I need you to stick your fingers inside me please”. with no hesitation he sunk his fingers into your hole going a bit deeper than he intended, but nonetheless proud of himself for making you arch your back against him. he could feel your slick sliding down his knuckles. “shit”. he unexpectedly groans, revealing to you how much he actually enjoyed this.

you shut your eyes tight while his fingers delve inside you steadily and pulled out at a measured pace. you began to whine and rub your ass against him in the process. “open your eyes for me. I want you to see yourself”. his voice made you want to collapse and his fingers moved so smoothly inside you you were starting think that he went to school for this. they were magic in between your legs and you didn’t want him to stop. your eyes fluttered open, one after the other and your mouth hung open. “tell me how it feels”. by now his lips was so close to your mouth you just wanted him to kiss you already. it was a tease the way his mouth ran over everything but your lips. but it was hard to ask for that when you were prompted with another question. you could barely think with him touching you like this. “it feels— it feels so fucking good oh my god”. the whimper in your eyes is what drove him insane. you looked so needy and burdened with want he wondered how and why your husband wasn’t doing this to you already. your thighs were threatened to clasp around his wrist, you didn’t know if you could take much more. his other hand snakes up your shirt and grasps your naked breasts, massaging one and pulling and tugging on your nipples. the feelings were foreign, your husband usually filled one night with one of these motions. It was never everything happening all at once like this. your pants became quicker, “faster”. you hummed, becoming more confident with your demands. you watched the outline of his fingers in your panties hastening their pace, finger fucking you at an intensity that had you reaching back just to clutch the fabric on his shoulder. you could wrap your mind around how perfect and skilled he was at doing this, well you couldn’t wrap your mind around anything for that matters. your head falls back into the crook of his neck and you reached down the grip his moving wrist. “fuck I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum so hard”. he sticks his tongue in your mouth and performs the hottest kiss you’ve ever felt in your married life. “yes keep talking like that”. he exhales sounding just as winded and breathless as you were. “I don’t think I can take it please my pussy is throbbing too hard”. you whine at the top of your lungs feeling his fingers deeper inside you. you could feel the palm of his hand rubbing your ass a little. “there you go, cum down my fingers”. he demands licking and sucking the skin of your neck until your eyes rolled to the back of your head in a mind blowing orgasm.

you were still bucking inside his hand as he rubbed all of the aftershocks right out of you, enjoying how much you were cumming especially since it was the first time you’ve came like that in years. you were limp and weak, and you just knew that your husband probably already texted you about twenty times trying to figure out where you were but you didn’t care. minho sneaks kisses to your hot earlobe. “from a professional standpoint I’m proud of you for speaking up for what you wanted. but aside from me being your therapist that was so fucking sexy”.

#Minho smut #lee Minho smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines

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xoxo-nikki-xoxo · 4 years

Text

Oh darling

Kol Mikaelson X Female human reader

prompt #36,17,29: “You are so beautiful to me” “Your safe with me, I promise” “Your soulmate, my one and only. How could I ever leave you”

Warning: SMUT

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

You knew from the beginning getting involved with one of the Mikaelson was going to be bad. But never this bad, you are just a human. Being tied to a chair with some rusty handcuffs was not what you expected. Being the blood bag of some random vampire, you never recognized was not fun either. You knew he was going to be looking for you. Your husband Kol, and if you knew anything about the family. It was that all of them were looking for you. Because one attack on one of them, is an attack on everyone.

Your heads hanging, your so drained of energy that you cant lift your head up.. Just when you are about to give up you hear a voice. It is quiet of course, but wait I think its 3 voices. They sound familiar but you cant pine point from where. You minds so fuzzy its hard to focus on anything but staying alive for him.

“Kol! I have found her!” a female yells as I hear the sound of heels making their way over to me. Her hands come up to the chains that where holding me to the chair. With one simple tug she rips them off.

“I'm going to tear whoever's head off for doing this to her” Kol spit as he speeds over to you. He is crouching down in front of you taking in your whole appearance. His hand comes up to your soft check, caressing it gently as he brings your face up with his thumb.

“O darling. Your safe with me, I promise. I will never leave your side again. I'm so sorry...” Kol says as he continues to caressess your face in his hand. There's more footsteps heading towards both of you, but you couldn't focus on anyone else expect the man that was in front of you

“Whoever did this to her will pay for it Kol, you have my word I will make sure of it. But please I advise you think whatever plan that is running through your head threw. Don’t act irrational because of your anger it could cause more problems then good.” He sounds vary formal; it must be Elijah. He is the only one that advises anyone to do anything wise really.

“Whatever Elijah. I'm going to kill the bastard that decided to hurt my wife. She is what keeps me from going back to a psycho maniac! So no Elijah I'm going to kill who did this to her, you can either join me or stand against me.” Kol says as he picks you up, your head automatically resting on his chest as he walks away.

“Then I give you my word brother, we will find who did this to y/n, and they will pay with their life” You heard Elijah say. Kol nods his head than bites into his wrist feeding you his blood; but the vison in your eyes starts blur, the last thing you remember was him coming to rescuing you.

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

You don’t know how long you were out for, but when you finally gained conscience again, you where in a bathtub. You could feel his finger in you y/c/h hair gently messaging some conditioner into it.

“Kol?” you weakly say to him as you lay your head on his chest again.

“I'm here darling... I'm so happy your are awake; I was getting worried about you again....” He says as he gently kisses your shoulder.

“What happened... I just remember leaving the compound then the next thing I knew I was waking up with someone torturing me.. It was terrible *cries* he...he bit me a few time Kol it was... It was probably the scariest thing I ever had to experience. I was his own personal punching and blood bag.” You said starting to cry. He clenches his jaw very upset at whoever hurt you but he doesn't want you to worry about him.

“ Darling I promise you that I well deliver his head on a pike to you or a silver plater which ever you prefer.” Kol states. He wraps his arms around you giving you a soft squeeze as he kisses your temple.

“ I know, you always fallow through with your promises” You say weakly looking up at him. That's when you notice the bags underneath his eyes. Has he been sleeping? “ My love, you don't look to well either” You hummed out reaching a hand up to his cheek. Your thumb running over under his eyes

“ Don't worry about me y/n, I’m more concerned about nursing you back to health” Kol says as he moves your body so he can start rinsing the conditioner out of your hair. “Have I ever told you, that you are so beautiful to me?” Kol says cheerfully as he finishes my hair.

“ever chance you get you remind me” You replied his comment bring a soft pick blush to your face.

“ Now then lets get you to bed my love.” Kol says as he stands up fetching myself and himself a towel. He wraps his towel around his waist then helps you up and out of the bed. He smiles giving your lips a soft peck. with a arm around your wasit he picks you up bridal style carrying you to your shared bedroom.

After getting situated in bed it began to grow quite. The tension growing to thick to bare made you perk up.

“Kol, just because I was tortured doesn't mean you have to baby me” You complained looking up at him having a small smirk on your face. “Come on.. lets have some fun.. I'm pretty much 100% after some of your blood you gave me and that warm bath” You tried to convince him. So you moved over which allowed you to sit up and crawl onto his lap. He shakes his head his smirk on his lips growing to a smile.

“Now, now my darling wife, who told you that you are in control? Last time I checked I was the one to call the shots in the bedroom.” He commented, his hands resting on your hips messaging them just the way you liked.

“But Kol... You of all people should know a happy wife is a happy life.” You whisper softly as you lean closer to connect your lips with his.

“You got me there” he mumbled into your shared kiss

The kiss is soft, gentle almost as if he was afraid of possibly hurting you. You hum into the kiss completely content with where the kiss was going to lead. Telling by the way his hands moved to your ass told you just how your night was going to end. And the best part of it, you didn't mind at all and neither did he. The way his hands trailed up your torso taking his shirt off of you set your skin on fire. The desire in your eyes as you parted your lips enjoying the feeling of his lips on your neck. His fangs gently grazing your main artery on your neck ,but not pricing your skin, at least not yet. You let a soft moan escape your lips as you felt his lips traveling down your collar bone, down to your chest as he kisses your ever so perky boob. He growls softly when he hear another moan escape your mouth.

“Darling if you don't stay quite I don't know if ill be able to control myself” He teases looking up at you. He kisses you again laying you down on the bed. Your hands rest on his toned abs as he deepens the kiss. You moan again feeling his hard on pressing again your inner thigh. He groans into the kiss when you move one leg on either side of him his dick now able to slid right into you.

Once he slides inside you, he moves his face into the crack of your neck. “Fuck, why are you always so tight all the time?” Kol asks you as he starts to thrust in and out of you at a slow but pleasurable pace. Your moaning, one hand digging at his shoulder while the other one is in his hair giving it soft tugs. His pace has picked up he groans into your neck. You can feel the pleasurer all the way into your stomach. It makes you squirm a little and moan louder. You know what's coming, he can tell too by the way your body is shaking. He sits up onto his knees so he can get a better angle as he fucks you harder.

The veins under his eyes came back he groans as he goes faster, the only sounds he could focus on were your pulse and the way your pussy sounds as he pounds it.

“Kol..*moans* I’m close... I cant ho-”

“Let it go y/n” He growls at you leans down again to kiss you. Your moaning, legs trembling as you come. And when you do cum that's when his fangs come out, pricing your neck like he always dose as he cums too.

You moan softly as he pulls out of you due to being sore now. He lays next to you panting a little from all the work he did. Your wounds on your neck heal from the vampire blood that was already circling threw your bloodstream when he saved you. You smile turning your head to look at him admiring his stone like features. The way his chest rises up and down, the hair that was on his torse all the way up to the he smiles lazyly at you.

“Go get some sleep darling. I well be right here when you wake up” Kol whispers looking at you the same way you where just looking at him.

“Promise you wont leave my side once?” You hum back your eyes getting heavy.

“Your soulmate, my one and only. How could I ever leave you” He smiles tucking a piece of hair behind you ear. His arms are wrapped around you as he kissing your entire face. You drift asleep in his arms shortly after.

#the originals #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson smut #the vampire diaries #kol mikaelson fluff #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson

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malecsecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, incorrect-malec!

For @incorrect-malec. This is the first part to a larger fic which will be updated sometime after the reveal, as the plot ran away from me! I tried to incorporate as many of the proposed likes as I could to make this an interesting and fun gift! Happy holidays, dear giftee, I hope you sincerely enjoy your present ❤️

Minor content warning for some cursing and small mentions of blood.

*****

find me here (amidst the chaos)

“Mr. Lightwood-Bane? You have a special visitor.”

Alec glances up from the spread of ridiculous red tape sprawled across his desk. An antique grandfather clock nestled in the corner behind him ticks away the idle seconds.

“Ah.” Alec leans into the high-backed support of his office chair. “Mr. Lightwood-Bane, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

Magnus glides into the room, shutting the ornate door behind him with a heavy thud. “You forgot your lunch. I assumed it was all a simple ploy to trick me into bringing some for you.”

“A reasonable assumption.”

“I probably shouldn’t be indulging in such skulduggery,” Magnus skirts around the desk, his magic tidying the paperwork into neat piles off to the side. “Alas, it has been some long six hours since I last saw my husband, and I’m little other than a fool for love.”

Alec stands and sways into Magnus’ space. “It is known to be a great weakness of yours.”

“Love?” Magnus wraps his arms around Alec’s neck, soothing his fingers against the nape. “Hardly. Love is too often fleeting. You, however?” He brushes the ghost of a kiss against the corner of Alec’s mouth. “You have always been my greatest weakness.”

Alec kisses Magnus, because it says more than words ever could, because there are no words in any language that he knows which could be enough to express how he feels, how his core is alight and burning hot, how he can’t get close enough without knocking them both over, and even that wouldn’t soothe the ache.

“You didn’t even bring any food with you,” Alec points out, pressing a fleeting kiss to Magnus’ temple, lest he kiss any lower and come away with a shimmer upon his lips. His hands are broad and firm against Magnus’ hips, drawing him close until the ornate buckle of his belt is nestled against Alec’s belly button. He’s slouched, relaxed and calm.

“An easy fix.” Magnus pecks the very tip of Alec’s nose, grinning easy at the way it scrunches. “What are you in the mood for?”

“I really want to visit Sky,” Alec sighs, his shoulders drawing up. “I miss their chebureki. I’m craving their chebureki. But I have to file through this paperwork, or the Clave are going to be breathing down my neck.”

Magnus traces the love rune against the nape of Alec’s neck. “I mean this with every breadth of my soul.” He pulls back, drawn to the mirth that draws Alec’s brow together before staring into hazel eyes which have always held his own gaze with such resolve it’s a wonder he ever questioned them. “Fuck the Clave.”

Alec laughs, hearty and full. Magnus kisses the lines of his eyes, warmth cloaking him like a homemade blanket. This, right here. This is all he needs.

“Is that a proposition? I think I have a form somewhere for interdepartmental relationships, I’d be happy to sign it for you.”

Alec feigns to pull away, his hands falling to his sides. Before he can even turn his body, Magnus takes both of Alec’s hands in his own, kissing the space on his ring finger above his wedding band and the ridges of his knuckles while the other intertwines their fingers, squeezing tight and holding their joined hands against his heart - or, rather, a rough estimation of where his heart is, hidden beneath his unbuttoned silk shirt and floral blazer.

“Burn it.” Magnus insists, resting his chin on the back of Alec’s hand, still held tight within his own. “Or shred it. Do you have a paper shredder? We can start a recycling plan! Saving the planet is really something the Clave should care about. Maybe they can investigate that, and then while they’re busy saving the world - I know that you Shadowhunters love that - we can steal away and pretend you never insinuated that I would ever break our sacred marriage vows for the Clave.”

Alec leans back, tapping the side of Magnus’ sleek ankle boots. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even joked about it.”

“I wouldn’t break our vows for anything.” Magnus pulls a face. “Suggesting I would do it for the Clave is just insulting, Alexander. I have far better taste than that.”

“Is that so?”

Magnus hums, turning Alec’s hand to kiss down his wrist. “I’m pretty sure I have a certificate somewhere that proves it.” He murmurs, tilting his head into the cup of Alec’s palm against his cheek. “Unless that’s how you tested out your paper shredder? We haven’t cleared up whether it exists yet.”

“Your environmental concerns are heard and are being considered by the Inquisitor at present” Alec teases, before adding. “I’m pretty sure that Aline has a paper shredder in her office. It’s definitely the kind of thing that Helen would have gifted. Probably wrapped in a bow, too.”

“That does sound like our Helen.” Magnus steps forward into the gap of Alec’s thighs. “I’m afraid that all I am hearing is that there is in fact no reason why you can’t take an extended lunch break.” He leans forward, teasing a kiss along the cut of Alec’s jaw. “Perhaps we can even enjoy it in the comfort of our own home.”

They would have, Alec prepared with a half-hearted protest that Magnus would just as quickly swallow, bending the pretence of Alec’s revolve before whisking them away in a portal that would have to be created on the balcony to protect the furniture. They would have enjoyed a lovely meal, and each other’s company, and Magnus would have sent Alec back with a sweet kiss and a promise of reservations for some late night ponchiki, conveniently forgetting to mention that he’s missed a button of his shirt.

Unfortunately, none of that happened.

“Inquisitor Lightwood-Bane? High Warlock Lightwood-Bane?”

Magnus rolls his eyes and steps away from Alec, although his hand skims Alec’s hip. The shadowhunter at the door seems familiar … Montclair something, maybe … yes, Eva Montclair. A sort of glorified P.A for various members of the Clave. Her sudden appearance in Alec’s doorway is not a terrible thing by nature, but Magnus has a feeling given the tightness of her knuckles around the hilt of her seraph blade that it is not good news that she couriers this time.

Eva inhales deeply, her shoulders curled in defensively. “I was told to come and tell you both immediately, I’m sorry if I’ve interrupted anything.”

“What’s wrong, Eva?” Alec asks, kind but firm.

“There’s been an instance near Piccadilly. A warlock appears to have recently come into their powers and is struggling with gaining control over them. The Head of the London Institute called them ‘rogue’, but I personally don’t think that’s fair. From the descriptions received all the magic seems to be defensive rather than offensive. The High Warlock there is currently unavailable but suggested that you, Mr. Lightwood-Bane, would be a … ‘fitting substitute’ in his absence?”

Magnus fixes a pleasant smile even as a laugh hiccups in the back of his throat. Ragnor truly says the kindest things. “If this is as you describe, Eva, I’m sure there won’t be any further problems.”

“Please alert the London Institute that we are on our way.” Alec requests. “And please make it clear to them that they are under no circumstances to harm the young warlock. This is no longer any of their concern.”

The hint of a smile toys at the corner of Eva’s mouth, and it’s then that Magnus remembers that she’s married to a warlock herself, and in fact he has met Mars on a few occasions as part of the Downworlder council. Small world.

“Absolutely.” Eva nods, curtly, and ducks out of the room.

Magnus nods towards the balcony doors. “Portal?”

Alec sighs, reaching for Magnus’ hand. “This has to be the fifth call this year alone. I’m starting to think those pamphlets aren't working.”

The balcony doors swing open with a flick of Magnus’ hand.

“Maybe the Institute Heads are just environmentally conscious.”

---

“Angels,” Alec whispers, when they come through the other side of the portal onto a wet cobblestone side-street, the air heavy with unshed rain. “They’re so young.”

The warlock couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen. Their torn jeans are stuffed into worn and muddy old boots, their denim vest is missing sleeves, torn at the shoulder, and the faded band tank underneath looks far too thin for a London evening. Thin, white lines stand out against brown skin, forming stars on their arms like tattoos of varying size, a mark unlike any that Alec has ever seen before and given the slight furrow to Magnus’ brow, it’s not a common one. Their hair is cropped short and pink, which could be a warlock mark, although Alec has his doubts.

“Their mark is glowing.” Magnus comments. “It pulses, see. It’s directly connected to their magic.”

“Is that unusual?” Alec asks, casting an eye around for anything to gain the warlock’s attention without spooking them. “Your eyes glow.”

Magnus drops his glamour. A point is being made, but it isn’t Alec’s. “The pulse is frantic, like their magic, their emotions. Their powers are so new that they haven’t figured out how to control any of it yet. Warlock marks, although rare, do sometimes come with the magic itself. That’s a lot to discover about yourself at once. No wonder they look so frightened, poor dear.”

Alec’s throat tightens when the warlock grips their head and folds over. “We have to help them. I don’t even know how but … we have to help them.”

Magnus grips the back of Alec’s neck, turning him until they’re facing each other. “We will.” Magnus says, firm but kind. “We are their best hope right now, Alexander, and we will help them.” He grazes his thumb along the column of Alec’s nape. “We’re good at this.”

Alec nods, rolling his shoulders back as Magnus’ hand falls away. Magnus gestures and Alec follows his gaze, towards a portable store sign advertising 25% off coats and knitwear - it’s not terribly wide or tall, but if he’s careful he should be able to hide behind it, if temporarily. The last thing they need is for the warlock to feel as though they’ve been trapped, so letting Magnus talk first and providing support without being obvious about it is their best chance at this point in time.

The first time they talked a warlock down Alec had gotten his eyebrows singed off for getting too close, too fast.

“Excuse me?” Magnus has procured a coat, probably from the store behind Alec, his hands shoved into the pockets.

To the unassuming eye, he probably appears to be a concerned citizen, his eyes glamoured once more, although there is an undeniable electricity to him that couldn’t be mistaken by those who know for a thunderstorm. There is a chance that the warlock, although presumably new to their powers, will be able to sense it as well. If that’s the case, their reaction is anyone’s guess. Alec tightens his grip on his bow.

“I’m Magnus Bane.” The warlock glances up with lightning speed, their arms wound tightly around their chest, as though doing so would keep everything in place. Alec is familiar with the feeling. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m like you, see?”

Magnus must have dropped his glamour, for the warlock takes a step back, but they lose some of the tension around their shoulders. “May I ask for your name?” He asks, rocking back on his heels.

The warlock hesitates, the stars on their arms pulsing even faster. “Nova.” They say, after what feels to be an hour. Alec lets out a heavy breath and relaxes onto his haunches. This is good.

“Hello, Nova.” Magnus flattens his palm against his chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions? You don’t have to answer any that make you uncomfortable. My only motivation is helping you if I can.”

“What makes you think that you can help me?” Nova spits out. They’re shaking. “I don’t even know what’s happening to me. The other day I was fine, I was normal and then I woke up yesterday and I have these weird tattoos on my arm and today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts - and none of it makes any sense! None of it!”

Magnus takes a lone step forward, but Nova doesn’t appear to notice. Alec feels a chill crawl down his spine. “You don’t know me, so what I’m about to ask of you probably goes against every instinct you have. Nova, I need you to trust me.”

“Why?”

Magnus takes another step. The hairs on the back of Alec’s neck stand to attention. “Because I’ve been where you are.” Magnus explains. “Lost. Confused. Angry. I was a child when I discovered my magic, what I could do with it. I didn’t have anybody to help me, and I always vowed that I wouldn’t let that happen to others, if I could help it. I want to help you.”

“What am I?” Nova furiously shakes their head, gripping at their elbows so tight little pinpricks of blood skate down their arms. “Why is this happening to me?”

“I prefer to call myself a warlock. Many of us do.” Magnus explains. He holds out his palm, letting a blue flame collect in the centre. “You can refer to yourself however you like. You can just be Nova, and nothing more, if you want.”

“But the magic … that won’t go away?”

Magnus shakes his head. “No. Take my word for it, you will only cause yourself more harm if you try. It’s not all bad.” The flame in Magnus’ hand turns into a cupcake, with a small sugary rainbow on top of the cream white frosting. “Once you learn how to control it, the things you’ll be able to do are incredible.”

“I lost a mug.” Nova laughs, a fragile thing. “It’s so stupid. I just threw it at the wall, but it didn’t smash or anything it just … disappeared. I looked for hours. It’s not even important, it was a quid or something but it … it’s gone. I did that. I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me. What if - what if I do that to somebody? Make them … disappear.”

“I don’t think so.” Magnus is a few feet away now if that. “The kind of power that takes is … astronomical, not to mention the technical restraint. The worst you might do is cause some minor injuries, but even that is rare.”

Nova’s stars are glowing steadily. “Have you ever made someone disappear?”

“Not without the intent to do so.”

The answer seems to appease Nova. Alec stays hunched down, it doesn’t look like Magnus needs his support, although it would be nice to stretch his back soon, although he still trains from time to time, he isn’t exactly as young as he used to be.

“Magnus Bane. Step away from the rogue warlock at once. This is no longer an issue for the Downworlder Council to handle, this has become an Institute matter and will thus be handled by Shadowhunters. Your services have not proven useful, and this warlock must be subdued before any harm is caused.”

The electricity in the air gets sharper. Alec hesitates but eventually rises slowly from his crouched position. He catches the minute the Institute Head, Stephen Highsmith, sees him and the flood of blood to his cheeks and forehead. A second later, his head whips towards Nova, who is clutching at their head, their wide eyes caught between the three of them. Alec doesn’t have the time to search for the Shadowhunters positioned around them, knows on instinct that they’re surrounded, that the only way out is through talking and, if that fails, a little violent liberty.

“The warlock is a child.” He states, stalking out from behind the sign. He grips his bow tight and positions himself diagonally from Magnus, firm in his defence. “Surely you have higher morals than that, Stephen.”

Highsmith, a weasely man riding the coattails of his family name, sneers and draws his seraph blade. He’d never been too good as a Shadowhunter, from all accounts, but power is a currency and money talks. “It was very honourable of you to leave your post and flock to my streets, Inquisitor Lightwood, but I’m afraid your presence is simply not necessary. My men and I have it handled.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable of handling precarious situations, Mr. Highsmith.” Butter wouldn’t melt in Magnus’ mouth. “However, as High Warlock Fell is currently out of the country and has given permission for Alexander and myself to fulfil his duties in his place, I do believe it is a case best left to us. We don’t intend to intrude upon your delicate sensibilities, I’m sure you’re a very busy man who has much better things to do than to waste your time on such a small affair.”

“For the record.” Alec smiles with no heart. “It’s Lightwood-Bane. A simple mistake, I’m sure, but an important thing to rectify. Names carry a lot of importance and weight, you know.”

Highsmith splutters. “I do not have time for this!”

“Neither do we.” Magnus stalks closer, until he’s within arms distance from Highsmith. Alec inches closer to Nova, now bent over with their palms pressed against their eyelids. “This is a matter for the Downworlder council, and as it’s representatives, we will take care of it. The longer you argue and fight with us over this, however, the longer it will take until we are out of your hair.”

The back of Alec’s neck prickles with heat. Magnus continues to admonish Highsmith. “Neither Alexander nor I will budge until Nova is safe. Believe me when I tell you that there is nobody more equipped to handle this than us, and if you don’t take your leave quietly and with what little grace you can summon, you will be responsible for whatever harm or damage is caused.”

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Highsmith’s face is blotchy and red.

“Quite easily.” Magnus twists his fingers, a white-hot blast landing at Highsmith’s feet. His shoes turn into fluffy bunny slippers. The ears flop when he pounds his feet. “Respect is earnt, Mr. Highsmith, and quite frankly you have done nothing worth receiving mine.”

A low muttering draws Alec’s attention. Nova has sunk onto their knees, the heel of their palms digging into their eyes. Alec quietly side-steps closer, holding his bow behind his back so as not to terrify Nova even more.

“I just want to go home. I just want this all to end. I want to go home.”

Alec sneaks a glance towards Magnus, still holding defence against Highsmith, who has acquired shocking green hair and a yellow high-visibility vest alongside the bunny slippers. Perhaps it won’t go as smoothly as if Magnus were the one talking Nova down, he can connect with them in a way Alec never would, but he can offer support - just as long as he can calm Nova down, draw them away from the conflict, that’s all … then they can dismiss Highsmith because there would be no ‘warlock problem’ and Nova’s safety and comfort could once again take priority.

“Nova?” Alec crouches down, rocking back on his heels. “My name is Alec. I’m a friend of Magnus’. We’re going to do our best to get you home, okay?”

Nova starts rocking back and forth. Their tattoos glow brighter than before, a luminescent blue that pricks at the back of Alec’s eyes. “I want to go home.” They continue to murmur, in a voice that takes on a warbled effect, as though they were speaking underwater. “I just want to go home.”

“Where do you live?” Alec asks. “Do you live in London?”

Nova falls to their knees. In the distance, Alec hears Magnus’ tone getting sharper, although he can’t make out exactly what is being said, it doesn’t fill him with much confidence that a productive conversation is being had. Nova keeps rocking, folded over into themselves. Blood streaks down their forearms, small droplets collecting behind their ears from where their fingers had dug into their scalp.

“Enough is enough!” Highsmith shouts. Shadowhunters spill out from the dark, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons, seraph blades and a few staves, the odd throwing star attached at the hip. Archers are scattered across the rooftops around them, arrows notched and aimed.

“Highsmith.” Magnus’ hands crackle as blue flame licks at his fingertips, wrapping around his arms. “I’ve made an attempt at civility, but you are clearly not interested in politics. Fine. Take this as a warning. Recall your soldiers. Stand down. I cannot guarantee everyone’s safety if you do not heed this warning, and the dangerous consequences your refusal could inflict are limitless. This young warlock is frightened. Let us look after them, and I assure you, nobody will get hurt.”

“I have had enough of your whining.” Highsmith spits. “This is now Shadowhunter business. Perhaps a few days in a cold cell will teach this young warlock how to control their powers.”

It all happens in a flash. Literally, an actual flash.

Alec rushes forward to protect Nova, futile as it might be, his bow poised towards the nearest threat - a Shadowhunter only a few feet away with a seraph blade drawn and pointed at the back of Nova’s head. A static roaring fills his ears, but he pushes through, hardly aware of his own body as an arrow is sent flying into the Shadowhunter’s shoulder. His skin starts to prick and burn, from his hands up to his neck and rushing down to his ankles like a wildfire coursing through a forest. His heart beats in tune with Nova’s words, I want to go home, thud thud thud thud thud.

Alec shuts his eyes against a luminescent white light, stumbling as the ground falls out from beneath him and an echo calls out for him, a desperate plea of his name shouted underwater.

Magnus?

I just want to go home.

---

Alexander? Alexander!

---

The air smells like metal and thunderstorms. Magnus whirls on his heel, angry tears racing down his cheeks. Hell, hath no fury like a warlock scorned.

“Listen to me you weasely git.” Magnus spits. “I’m done playing civil. My husband is missing because you wanted to play hero for the first time in your poor, forsaken life. Sad you never got to play soldiers with the big boys? Well, guess it’s your lucky day. I am going to take Nova with me back to Alicante, and while I’m there, I’m going to ensure that my lovely friend Consul Penhallow is updated with everything that occurred here today. Unfortunately for you, her wife has family in the area, some of whom I am sure wouldn’t mind stepping up to keep an eye on you. I’ve seen how you conduct yourself, and if it is any indication of how your Institute is run, I guarantee it is not a position that you will retain for much longer.”

Magnus raises a hand. The Shadowhunters flanking Highsmith sheath their weapons. “Withdraw your forces and go slinking back. This is not a request. You did not heed my warning, but you will weather the consequences.”

He turns, uninterested in sparring Highsmith another second of his time. Magnus didn’t see the flash, but he recognised the sign of a portal, although … there’s something about this one that is bugging him.

Today I’m sending things into different rooms with just my thoughts … I don’t know how but wherever it’s ended up is because of me … what if I do that to somebody? Make them disappear?

“Fuck.”

Nova is sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring at their hands as though they’re something alien. Magnus collapses in front of them, a mirror-reflection. They’re shaking, tremors like the ground before an earthquake.

The earthquake has come. This is the aftershock.

“I don’t know what happened.” Nova whispers, harshly. “I just wanted everything to stop. I kept wishing that I could go home, and everything got really muffled, like I was wrapped in cotton or something, but I was still here and there was so much noise, so much shouting and I was so scared-”

“Might I reach for your hand?” Magnus asks. Nova glances up, their cheeks stained with dried tears. They nod, wordlessly. Magnus turns their palms over, tracing the lines with his fingers where they glow intermittently, as though a light was shining from beneath their skin.

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” Magnus’ smile is a little thin, a little bittersweet. “Not at you. I know that Alexander is okay, wherever he is, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Nova shakes their head. “He could be dead, I could have-”

“You didn’t.” Magnus assures them. “I would know if he was, as sure as you knew when your magic appeared. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was behaving volatile today?”

Nova’s fingers curl against Magnus’. “That flash. I felt like an exposed wire. I felt…” Nova frowns. “Right as it happened, I felt really calm all of a sudden, but also … like my magic? I guess? Was being pulled out of me. I wasn’t scared anymore, though, I felt … comforted. Safe? But then I opened my eyes, and everything was the same, and all that fear came flooding back.”

Jagged pieces are coming together in Magnus’ mind. It’s a working theory, and a weak one at that, but it’s something and that’s enough for him to cling onto, to keep his sanity.

“Nova. I don’t mean to pressure you, so please do not take it that way, you are of course free to go wherever you please - I promise the Shadowhunters, the lot dressed in all black with their pointy egos, won’t cause you any harm, but … if you’re willing, I could use your help.”

“My help?”

Magnus wicks a portal into existence. The wind around them picks up leaves and twigs but in the little bubble he creates for them, they are safe. “This is a portal. I sort of invented them. I have a feeling that what you did is not all that dissimilar, but I need your help to figure that out. I hope that I’ll be able to help you better understand your own powers, and get my husband back, but only if it is something you are comfortable with.”

Nova stares at the portal in wonder. They nod, hesitant at first and then firmer with every movement. “Whatever happened … it was my fault. I know you don’t blame me, somehow, but if I can help … I have to. You and your husband were willing to do anything to help me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It only takes a word, if at any point you want to bow out, or you don’t feel comfortable or safe, your commitment ends. There’s no obligation here, okay?”

Nova nods. Magnus stands gingerly, wiping the dirt of the back of his pants and extending a hand to help pull them up. “You’ll need to keep tight hold of my hand.” He instructs. “Don’t let go until I say it’s safe, otherwise I could lose you too.”

Nova squeezes Magnus’ hand. “We’ll find him.” They promise.

“Of course, we will.” Magnus smiles, wishing he could even half-convince himself.

---

Alec focuses his landing on the balls of his feet, leaning back to distribute his weight to his heels to cushion the impact. It’s fortunate that, despite the length of time he’s spent behind a desk instead of in the field, he’s managed to keep up with his training. That fall could have wiped him out.

He takes a few seconds to focus on what he can hear, smell, see; the floor beneath him is a dark mahogany, freshly polished, the sunlight leaking in from the north facing window between drawn burgundy curtains. Outside the window echoes a busy street, tolling bells and warm chatter and … horses?

“Quite a grand entrance. Most people just use the doorbell.”

The voice, familiar in the wrong ways, sweeps under his feet and knocks him backwards, scattered along the floor. It’s only magic, which he recognises beneath its coldness, that saves him from knocking over a beautiful porcelain vase sat precariously atop an equally beautiful, engraved end table.

“Then again, I’m not sure I would have invited a Shadowhunter into my home.”

The voice belongs to Magnus, but he is … not himself. At least not the one that Alec knows. It’s rather like seeing a distorted mirror image for all that stands out to him as wrong.

The hardened glaze of Magnus’ glamoured eyes. The sneer of his mouth. The white of his knuckles curled around the top of a hardback novel. The muted colours, from his hair to his makeup-free face, to the dark pants with thin silver lines and matching suspenders over a plain black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The line of his body along the gilded lounge is carefully constructed to suggest a nonchalance which is betrayed by the tension Alec can see in the rigidity of his limbs; he’s poised to attack.

This is not the Magnus that Alec recognises, this is a stranger with his husband’s face, his history, and his memories but not his present - or, rather, as Alec is quickly coming to suspect, his future.

“I’m sorry.” Alec tries to stand up, but as soon as his hands touch the floor, they become stuck, as though someone has glued them to the wood. His feet too are rooted in place.

“Oh, no. Please don’t apologise. It’s not as though you barged into my home, my private sanctuary, with no warning.” Magnus purses his lips. “You did not pull a weapon on me. I will admit that is a nice change.”

Alec can’t feel along his back for his quiver, but he’s fairly certain his weapons hadn’t travelled with him. Magnus had cloaked them to appear when he needed them, but it’s unlikely they were spelled in preparation for a situation such as this. Not that he is 100% clear on what this even is.

“Who are you?” Magnus waves a hand dismissively. “Please don’t say ‘Shadowhunter’, I am quite aware of that much, even if your runes weren’t visible only child soldiers hold themselves with such rigid arrogance. I will concede the outfit is quite out of the ordinary, however.”

Alec clears his throat. He has to be delicate about this. “My name is Alexander.” He shifts his weight and draws his shoulders in as best he can. “Alexander L-uh, Wayland. Alexander Wayland.”

Smooth.

Magnus hums, folding his book and letting it fall onto the glass table in front of him. “I had suspected for a fleeting moment that you might have been a Lightwood. No matter.” He elegantly sweeps his legs over until both are flat on the ground, his hands clasped between his knees as he leans forward with a seamless, lethal grace. “The real question I need an answer to would be how a lanky Nephilim such as yourself made it past my wards to crash into the very room in which I had been trying to enjoy some peace and quiet. London isn’t exactly known for such these days.”

“London?” Alec echoes, without quite thinking much of it.

Despite his foolish hope that he might have been wrong, the evidence was insurmountable and quite literally staring him in the face - however it might have happened, when he’d moved towards Nova he’d been sent falling and inevitably crashing into 1884. Magnus had only stayed in London for a year, hadn’t been back since, and Alec has seen the photos of him, Ragnor and Camille, recognises the darkness in Magnus’ gaze as when he first talked about Camille, and how she had torn him to pieces, discarding him without a thought after she was no longer satisfied with him.

“Magnus, Archibald has two extra tickets for tonight’s - oh. I do not recall you informing me that you were intending on having company for the night.”

A tall, slender blonde man hovers in the doorway, staring at Alec with equal parts vague intrigue and thinly veiled distaste. Everything about him exudes taste and elegance, but there is a familiarity to his features that itches at the back of Alec’s mind. He knows the man’s face, has never met him, he doesn’t think, but knows him in the distant way that one knows legends and heroes.

“The tickets are all yours, Woolsey.” Magnus doesn’t take his eyes off Alec. “I am afraid it appears I will be a little preoccupied, I have some unexpected business to take care off. Enjoy the play on my behalf.”

Woolsey Scott. The founder of the Praetor Lupus.

This isn’t funny anymore.

“Of course.” The corner of Woolsey’s mouth ticks up. None of the documentation around him could have ever come close to capturing the real thing. Magnus had mentioned him a few times, off handed, but Alec can see how they would have gotten along. “Don’t wait up, my dear. I certainly won’t be.”

Just as quickly as he had come sweeping in, Woolsey is gone, and Alec is left to sit glued to the floor while Magnus picks him apart by gaze alone. After a few uncomfortable minutes where the distant ticking of a grandfather stirs Alec a little mad, a chair slides across the polished floor, coming to a stop seamlessly next to Alec. The magic around his hands and feet disappear. He can wiggle his toes again.

“I kindly suggest that you take a seat.” Magnus states in a tone that leaves no room for a refusal. “I have a few questions that need answering.”

TBC on AO3

#incorrect-malec #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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feymaid · 4 years

Text

Hey guys! I wrote this a million years ago to fill the angst hole in my heart over what happened at the Lazaret and the drama of it all especially during Lucio’s route. With that being said, please read at your own risk since this deals with some heavy stuff from my apprentice’s past as well as the scary emotions that come after discovering the guy you’ve been actively flirting with indirectly killed you and your loved ones. :D

TW: *abuse. blood. death*

She’s shaking. It is only when they reach the shoreline that she takes a deep breath and gives herself a brief embrace. It takes everything in her not to jump into the boat and start paddling away on her own. She can’t do that. She steadies her body as she moves a foot into the boat. She hesitates and retracts her step. She needs to wait for him. The sun begins to set and darkness slowly creeps over the island, the dead trees above their heads cast spindly shadows on their faces. She had barely spoken to him since they had arrived at the Lazaret and she doesn’t know if she would ever be able to find her voice to express what she was feeling. Every time she thinks she can form words, her bottom lip starts to tremble and it takes all her strength to not start crying.

In that moment, Pocus had never looked so small, or so far away. Even when they’d been in the palace, even then, she had been close. Bright, full of life and burning. But here? With her trembling fingers, her expression void of emotion? The way she curls in on herself? The sorrow that fills her stomach makes her want to vomit.

For the first time since they had met, Lucio was silent. She had walked off ahead of him before he probably had processed what was going on. He was only a few strides behind her but even he seemed to know better to keep his distance. She didn’t break her eye contact with the ocean even as she felt his presence stop just behind her. She waited for him to move towards the boat. They would be silent and never speak of this again. He would take her home and she would never seek him out. It would be easy and she would forget this. She would forget him.

Instead there is a pause. When he doesn’t move to help her push their boat from the sand her blood runs cold. She can’t hear the sound of the waves crashing over the blood rushing through her ears, the pounding of her erratic heart. She can feel his eyes on the back of her neck and she shudders. She keeps herself in a tight ball, but turns her body to face him and lifts her chin to look at him for the first time.

Lucio stands with his hands crossed in front of him, his metal fingers nervously drumming against the hem of his sleeve. His white collared shirt is stained with the ashes of the island and she has to fight to keep her eyes on him. The ashes of his own destruction. She swallows back the lump in her throat. Despite it all, he holds himself high, a painful smile plastered on his face. His hair is messier than she is used too and he keeps running his fingers through it, trying to hold in his unease. His eyes betray him, holding a pain she can’t quite place. She waits for him to move, instead he speaks.

“Pocus...what you saw back there was not what it looks like. Er... I didn’t ever mean for it to go this far. You were an unfortunate result of my mistakes…” His eyes look everywhere but her face. He scratches the back of his neck and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I really didn’t mean for you to get hurt in this.”

She says nothing in response. She doesn’t know what he wants her to say.

He squirms at her silence. Her eyebrows furrow in disgust and she turns away again. He immediately breaks. “Pocus what can I say to make it better? I’m sorry alright?! I really didn’t mean for you to d-”

“Don’t,” she says and the ocean is loud enough to swallow her words. The sun hasn’t yet set over the horizon and the ruby sky is just bright enough for him to see her mouth form the single word. He cannot hear how her voice shakes, or how there is doubt and fear and a terrible tremor tied in a large knot in her throat.

He pauses but he is as unshakable as she is shaken. He gently grabs her wrist and her breath catches. She rips her hand away.

“Touch me again and you’ll be sorry,” she says, loud enough this time. He hears everything in her voice now. He doesn’t reach for her, but she can see that he wants to.

“Why would I be sorry?” he asks.

Her throat feels raw, her voice threatening to break. “You know why,” she says.

He considers her for a moment before stepping closer. She reacts with a step back, almost tripping in the sand, almost reaching for him to steady her. “I know you’re upset with what we saw back there but that’s all in the past!” He says. She shakes her head as he speaks. His voice rises and tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. “Pocus you know that I care about you! Why would I do this all on purpose to hurt you? I only want to make you happy!”

Her chest heaves and she bites down on her lips to hold back a sob. She shakes her head again. His hands hang empty in the air, waiting for her to take them.

She makes no move towards him.

The ocean breeze makes her skirt flutter, her hair sticking to the tears that start to spill. She wants to say, “I can’t let myself forgive you because I wouldn’t forgive myself.” Instead, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and tries not to feel the knot tighten in her throat.

“You knew.” She chokes out her words. “Y-you knew about this. You lied to me….about everything.” She hugs her body to keep herself grounded.

Lucio’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Lied? I never lied! I feared that if I told you that you would hate me like everyone else! I was going to tell you eventually!”

Like everyone else.

She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I’m such a fool! I played right into your game! It was always your plan to use me for your own benefit!”

“No! I never wanted you to feel that way! Pocus I care-”

“You’re a liar!” She sobs. She backs away even further from him. “You killed everyone I ever loved! You killed me! How could you possibly hope to gain anything from me after what you have done?!”

Thoughts tumble, her stomach rolls, guilt along with the satisfying bit of relief of admittance floods through her. His fault. His presence had brought the plague. The hurt on Lucio’s face still comes as a shock to her even though she means to hurt him. After a moment he speaks again, his voice hoarse.

“What do I have to do?”

“Take me home.” She pleads earnestly.

“No, Pocus wait! ” He strides towards her, nearly closing the distance between them and she flinches but can’t walk further away for the risk of walking into the water.

“Pocus there has to be a way to prove that I am sorry. We haven’t known each other that long but I swear, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are too precious for me to lose.” His eyes are genuine, his plea desperate. She tries to ignore the ache in her heart at his words but can’t deny the truth behind them. It only makes it harder.

“Don’t say that Lucio.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Please stop. Stop breaking my heart. I-I can’t take it.”

“I-... You said before...y-you said that you liked me. Did you mean it?”

“Stop. Stop trying to take more from me.”

“Pocus, darling I only want to show you how sorry I am!”

“Lucio, whatever you think we had is finished! You can’t expect forgiveness in this!”

“Pocus, you can’t push me away forever. You know that we can’t give up on this!”

He reaches for her hands again and she snaps.

“I told you not to touch me!”

Something in him breaks too.

“You are determined to hate me!” He hisses, his demeanor shifts and his eyes darken. “Asra has too much of a hold on you for you to form your own opinions! You are right, you are a fool!” He is so close. He is too close. Terror shoots through her like a bolt of ice.

The next thing she knows is the feeling of the sharp contact of his cheekbones against her hand. She watches his head snap to the side.

Her heart is beating so fast that she can’t breathe.

Her vision goes white.

Rikard’s lips curl in disgust. Her husband turns to face her and spits out blood. He had tried to touch her. He had tried to kiss her. She had slapped him. Hard. He wipes his bloodied hand on his suit jacket. She kneels on the ground before him, pathetic and weak, and trembling. She holds her hands to her chest as she slowly turns her gaze upwards, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. The strike is swift. Stinging against her cheek, promising to bloom a sickly deep purple like the rest that litter her body. “Never raise your eyes to me,” he tells her. “You will learn your proper place wife.” He spits out the last word like it’s poison. “Stand up,”Rikard demands. She does as he asks. Her legs will not be steady, one of them is hopelessly infected, the metal shackle cuts deeply into her thigh. Her spine will not straighten. The ache, the pain, the hurt, the agony and the misery. Shoulders hunched, staring at her own feet as she sways. There’s fog in her eyes, spinning in her head. She staggers as she struggles to stay upright. He sharply pushes against the bent line of her back and she hears her bones scream in resistance. “Stand up.” Parts of her flicker, a trickle of blood falls into her blackened eye.

She blinks and Lucio is in front of her again. She sees the bright pink flood his cheeks and the tear trickle down his jaw. She’s trembling and waits in fear of his retaliation, frozen in place. He slowly angles his face back towards her. He sniffs and wipes his nose. She drew blood. Regret surges through her.

“I-I.” She stammers through her tears. “I didn’t-”

“I’ll take you home.” He whispers. He walks away from her and heads towards the boat.

She stands staring at the sand. Her chest heaves, her fingers clench and unclench. She keeps her eyes on the ground as she slowly trails after him. He’d finished untying the boat. His eyes look everywhere but her and she does the same as she braces the sides of the boat. They find opposite seats from each other and she hugs her knees to her chest.

A long, tortuous period of quiet passes, the waves have calmed and Pocus trails a finger in the water, her reflection staring sadly back at her. It’s a lie. Those memories of her life before don’t belong to her but a tragic force of a woman by which she clings to. She isn’t real. But Lucio is. She winces as she slowly angles her face towards him. Her eyes are still puffy from crying and she must look as exhausted as she feels by the way her body aches. “Does... it still hurt?”

Lucio flinches and tenderly rubs his cheek. “Um... It’s fine.”

She wipes her face with her hands and sighs into her palms.

“I’m sorry.” She says, her voice slightly muffled.

“ I’m sorry too.”

“I know.”

#have fun with my shitty writing ya'll!#there's more where that came from i just dont wanna post in a heap lol #my writing #pocus #lucio #count lucio #pocus x lucio #mc x lucio #apprentice x lucio #fan apprentice #arcana fic #tw: abuse #tw blood #tw death #the arcana #the arcana game

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forever--darling · 4 years

Text

not too far away - s.m. (part ten)

a/n: where the truth comes out

warnings: 6k words of emotional conversations and secrets being revealed

X. cat’s out of the bag

her

Your dad stood tall as everyone stared at him. He looked nervous, you could tell by the way he kept wiping his sweaty palms on the back of his jeans. A soft smile pulled at his lips as he adjusted his button up on his chest. He sent you a look and even though you had a feeling that he was about to ruin everything you sent him an encouraging smile. He was going to get it all off his shoulders right now and let the truth surface during your once happy day. Everything you were scared to do was about to happen and instead of it being done by your hands it was going to be by your father’s. Clearly even at twenty years old, he wasn’t done taking care of you.

“I just wanted to thank you all for coming to celebrate our little bug’s birthday, who clearly isn’t so little anymore,” he paused chuckling to himself, “In fact, she’s not. My girl is twenty today and what a lot of you probably don’t know is that we never thought we would see this day. Around four years ago, when Y/N was just sixteen, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She was going through surgeries and chemo and upon her request, we decided as a family to keep it from almost everyone we knew. Which means keeping it from all of you.”

He was getting choked up and at this point, tears were gathering in your eyes and if anyone knew your dad he didn’t cry. He was a strong man who hated crying because he thought it made him weak. You had never seen your dad cry until you were diagnosed with cancer. After that, he became a machine that produced tears every few days. After you were cancer free and discharged though, that soft side and that crying Bradley Y/L/N went back to where it belonged. Inside of him. Now here he was resurfacing, except this time, he was being shown to not only your family but all of your closest friends.

“I know this is probably hard to hear, trust me I understand. Hearing that your kid has cancer is probably the worst news any parent can hear and I’m sorry that we kept this from you. You are our closest friends and it was hard what we had to go through without any of your support. Some days seemed impossible but we managed and here we are almost a year after hospital visits and casual chemo appointments, Y/N is healthy again and back to being that bubbly ball of joy we all love. Since we are in the clear, I thought there was no point to keep this from all of you anymore. Today, I am standing here thankful for all of you and all the things you have done for my daughter and I am beyond thankful that I still have my beautiful little girl.”

It was silent. It seemed no one knew what to say and you didn’t blame them. Besides your extended family who obviously knew about the condition you went through, all of your parents family friends and neighbors had not a clue. Even their very best friends Karen and Manny didn’t know. It was a knock to anyone’s chest who probably just found out that for four straight years you were sick and battling for your life and honestly thought that you had just been too busy for any of their time. It was a shock and you had a feeling the rest of the night would be spent with people coming up to you to talk about your bravery and strength.

Your dad may have just ruined the rest of the night for everyone else because it all of a sudden had gone from being a lighthearted and fun birthday celebration to a confession about how you almost died. A part of you didn’t care though because your dad just put himself out there for you. He spoke from his heart and you loved him for it.

Finally finding it in yourself to move, you walked over towards your dad and brought him into a tight hug. “I love you,” you said earnestly.

“I love you so much,” he replied placing a kiss on your forehead.

You smiled weakly as you pulled away turning to see all eyes on you. To some people, it was like they barely could look at you while others were desperate to hug and hold you. You sent a small look towards your mom and James before you walked away from your father towards the family that looked the most devastated.

A sad smile graced Karen’s lips as she pulled you against her, “Oh honey, I am so sorry you had to go through that.”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you instead of ignoring you guys all together. It’s just I knew you already had so much going on with Shawn leaving Pickering for the first time I didn’t think I should put any more stress on you,” you explained pulling back to look at her.

“We understand, completely. It was your business and keeping it personal was your decision,” Karen said giving your hand a squeeze as her husband took your attention.

Manny placed a hand on your shoulder, “Y/N, you’re such a strong girl and we are so relieved that you are okay.”

Your shoulders dropped in relief and you offered them a large smile, “Thank you so much, for being so understanding.”

They both nodded as you looked to their right, eyes falling onto the younger Mendes sibling. Aaliyah stood, eyes downcast on the ground, fingers fiddling against her stomach. A frown was etched across her face. Your hand reached out to grab her arm gently.

“Aaliyah,” you sighed, “I’m sorry. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you and it killed me every day, that I couldn’t see you.”

Before you could say any more, Aaliyah leaped forward pulling you into a tight hug. Her head found a place in your neck and you could feel her tears against your skin. “Thank you for not dying,” she cried.

“Well I couldn’t leave you now, could I?” you replied, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

Releasing her from the hug, with both your thumbs you wiped the tears from under her eyes. She smiled at you and instantly you felt a small amount of guilt. Your father had just admitted that you had beat cancer and that you were now fine but that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t beat cancer and all these people were relieved that you were alive and that you were okay but there was a chance that in a few days you might not be either of those things.

You were a liar, you knew that because though your father may have told the truth he didn’t know the full truth. Your parents had no idea that you had gone to the doctor and no idea that you weren’t cancer free anymore. Though a little of the weight had been lifted from your shoulders there were still lies that were present around you. You still had more truth begging to be spewed from your mouth.

After one more hug, Aaliyah moved away to be engulfed in the comfort of her mother’s arms. You sighed and ran your hands through your short hair as you shared a look with Demi who had her arms around James. A part of you wanted to question her about it and what her relationship was with your brother but you knew that wasn’t what was important at the moment and she knew it too. Demi was the only person who knew about your surgery and about the reality that you were no longer healthy. She could see your guilt and you could tell by the way she was looking at you that she thought that you needed to bring your reality onto everyone else. Most importantly your parents and probably to Shawn, if you wanted to start a relationship, he needed to know everything.

Shawn. Your head instantly snapped in the direction of the small stage to find that he was gone and the only thing that sat in his place was his guitar. You had forgotten about him as soon as your dad started to talk and now to see that he had left made your stomach drop. God, you couldn’t even think about what his reaction might have looked like to hear all the reasons why you had ignored him for years and why your friendship had been on pause. He had just learned the truth that had been hiding from him, worst of all though he didn’t hear it from you.

Instantly, without another second to think, you bolted up the hill towards the porch steps. You sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, still barefoot. You pulled open the glass door and shoved yourself inside. The kitchen was empty and frantically you moved to the living room. “Shawn?” you called out gaining no response.

You began to check every room in the house, from the bathroom to the storage closet. With no such luck, you moved upstairs and made your way towards your bedroom. Storming in through the doorway, you froze near the door as your eyes landed on Shawn’s back.

“Shawn,” his name fell from your lips sounding breathless.

He was stood by your bed, staring at the nightstand where a bunch of framed pictures were. Multiple ones being of you and him. You could see how his shoulders were tense and he remained motionless with his arms limply at his sides.

“Shawn,” you repeated taking a step forward noticing his head turn to the side and drop towards the floor.

You couldn’t pinpoint how he was feeling. He could be mad, upset, or maybe just frustrated. You had lied to him and kept things from him you never did before. You had caused him such pain to hide how the sickness you were dealing with. For minutes, it was silent. You stood waiting for him to say anything and finally as if in slow motion he turned around and you felt your heart break at the sight before you.

His hair was messed up and his shirt was wrinkled. His eyes were rimmed with tears and they were red and puffy. His cheeks were flushed and his bottom lip was swollen from him chewing on it so much. “You were sick,” his voice was raspy and sounded completely broken.

And just like that. The cat was out of the bag.

You nodded ashamedly that he had found out this way and knew by the end of this conversation you would probably look just as disheveled and upset as he was. If you knew Shawn like you thought you did, he wasn’t going to take this well at all.

“How did this happen?” he asked tugging at his curls.

You let out a small shaky breath as you felt your chest tighten, “It was months after you left-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” he questioned starting to raise his voice, “How could you not tell me?!”

He was starting to react exactly as you thought and you knew if you didn’t stay calm this would end with you yelling at each other loud for the rest of the party guests to hear, “I knew that if I told you, you would have came home to be with me.”

“For fuck's sake,” he shouted hand raising and falling back to his side letting out a loud slap, “Of course I would have. What’s wrong with that?”

“If you would have came home you wouldn’t be where you are now. You would have missed so many opportunities just to sit next to my bed all day,” you explained taking a step closer to Shawn.

“I don’t fucking care!” he yelled.

“You don’t mean that, Shawn,” you said softly, eyes beginning to fill with tears, “You love your job. You love singing and performing.”

He ran his fingers through his hair again, tugging at the ends, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as he stared down at you. A look of anger across his beautiful face, “Yeah, but I love you more!”

Just like that, you felt the air had been knocked from your lungs and you had lost this small argument. In all of the years you had known Shawn, you had never seen him look so sad and so in pain until now. His lip was curling as more tears streaming down his face. Snot was gathering at the edge of his nose and he kept making noises as he sucked it back up. You had caused this. You had hurt him so deeply and in a way, you had no idea how to fix it. This was all your fault.

He shook his head, not bothering to wipe away his tears from you. “All this time, I thought there was something wrong with me to cause my best friend to disappear from my life. I thought I did something to drive you away but now to find out that while I was having the time of my life creating a name out of myself, you were stuck in a bed sick and dying. And if you had been taken from all of us, I wouldn’t have even known. Probably would’ve found out by a sad voicemail sent from your parents. It’s a good thing that your ass pulled through because I would have not been able to deal with that. You should’ve told me, and you know that. Fuck my career and fuck whatever opportunities I was being given at the time because I should’ve been there. Y/N, I needed to be there.”

You could feel the tears that were falling down your face like a waterfall at this point as small whimpers fell from your lips. Your hands were balled into fists and you could feel your nails digging into your palms. You could feel them cutting through your skin but you didn’t care because the pain distracted you from the one coming from your chest.

The pain that was only there because of the destruction you had caused. Shawn’s lips were trembling and his hands were shaking and you knew he was out of words and wouldn’t be able to get any more out even if he had. They wouldn’t be able to pass by the sobs that were being wrenched from his chapped mouth.

It was over, finally, your walls were broken and now you were exposed. He now could see you for everything you had been trying to hide from him for the past four years. Your high and mighty walls had failed to keep him out because somehow he had wiggled his way into your heart. He had found a way inside and just like a storm turned to a monsoon that crack in the stone widened causing the whole damn wall to crumble.

And though a part of you, a large part of you, begged to stay where you were. Pleaded for you to stay away from Shawn as he stood fuming, chest raising, with fresh tears falling from his eyes. That part of you, that small tiny part, told you to turn and run out of the room, away from him and away from dealing with this once and for all. It told you that he was angry and not calm enough for you to get closer, but somehow you ignored that small voice in your head because you found yourself crossing the room to fall into his strong arms.

Your body connected with his, and in an instant, it felt like all tension in the air drifted vanishing from the both of you. His arms encased you providing a place of warmth and safety. It was familiar, and in a lot of ways, it was home. You hugged him back just as tightly as he hugged you hoping you could give him that same sense of protection he was giving you. Your tears continued to fall as his voice filled your ears.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” he whispered repeating that statement over and over again, his cries dying out with each time he said it.

It was a relief to hear. To know that after it all, his feelings towards you had not changed and that he still wanted you as much as you wanted him. This man brought something out of you, you had never felt before. He was a drug in so many ways. All you could see, feel, and smell was Shawn and it was making your head dizzy. And all you could think about was how your heart screamed for him, and how you were too choked up to return those three little words.

It was around eleven o’clock and you stood near your bedroom window, in your parents' house, admiring the stars in the night sky. Your short curls had faded, and you had tied the top pieces back into a small bun to keep them out of your face. Your makeup has been washed away and your skin was moisturized and ready for bed. You were wearing an oversized baby blue tee and white pajama pants, the same thing you had been wearing the morning Shawn showed up at the house with tickets to the Maple Leaf game. The day had felt like forever ago, though it had only been no more than a few weeks. So much had changed in such little time and you weren’t sure if you were ready for any of it.

The party had ended an hour or so ago but the Mendes’ had only just left about fifteen minutes prior to the time now. Shawn and Demi were the only other two people who were still at the house besides your family. He was helping your dad put away the tables in the yard and Demi was in the living room talking to James, and about what, you didn’t have a clue. Honestly, you didn’t want to know. If she was going to try and engage in a relationship with your brother, you weren’t going to stop her, but you also weren’t going to be around to hear about it either. The whole day had been a whirlwind and you could feel the exhaustion creeping in on you.

After what happened with Shawn, you hadn’t talked much for the rest of the party. You had spent a good ten minutes calming down and cleaning yourselves up before you returned back in the yard. No one seemed to notice the change between you two or maybe they did and just decided to not acknowledge it. Either way, you were grateful. As the evening went on, you made your way around to everyone listening to what they had to say and answering whatever questions they had about your treatment and your cancer.

You also were roped into very long hugs, the longest by far being from Loretta, but you didn’t mind at all. The end of the party had in no way been like the beginning or the afternoon. It wasn’t filled with laughter and fun but rather an emotional revelation that made everyone appreciate the life they had. In your opinion, it still ended on a good note with every single person going home with a smile on their face and at the end of the day, that’s all you could have ever asked for.

As you gave the black sky one more glance, your hand reached up to fiddle with the necklace, Shawn’s necklace he gave to you, like you had been doing all day. You turned around on your heels and jumped as you noticed Shawn leaning against the doorway, curls disheveled and shirt loose around his torso, top button undone.

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there and it had startled you a little bit. Your hand laid flat across your chest as a small laugh passed your lips, “Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he replied, voice low as his eyes fell to the floor, “Uh I finished up helping your dad.”

Nodding, you moved closer to him noticing the way his feet were shuffling against the carpeted floor. “Are you going back to your parent’s then?” you asked his eyes instantly moving back up towards you at the question.

“Well, I was hoping you’d let me stay,” he mumbled, fully stepping into the room.

Almost if on cue, you could feel your heart speeding up in your chest. Sometimes it felt like you had a string attached to your heart and on the other end, Shawn stood pulling on it to get it to beat for him at all the right moments. But you knew, that sounded ridiculous because he didn’t need a string to do that - with just a simple look or a few words he was able to make your heart move a little faster and beat a little louder.

“I’ll go get some clothes that you can borrow from James for the night,” you replied, hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze as you passed him. Without a response, you were out in the hallway making your way towards your brother’s room.

It was on the other end of the floor you were on which wasn’t such a bad thing except that you had to pass the stairs that lead down to the living room. You moved as fast as you could past the stairs but as you did, the loud laughter from your best friend was clear in your ears. Rolling your eyes, you ignored it and continued down the hall. You pushed open James’s door to be met with an unmade bed and a floor that was littered with a few pieces of clothing.

Typical, you thought, not clean. It was funny whenever you told people that you had your own apartment and James didn’t and he was the older one out of the two. They would always have the funniest reactions about him living with your parents but then you would go on to explain that he had been in Venice the last year and had just gotten home. “He’s searching for a place, don’t worry,” you would always tell the person reassuring them that your twenty-five year old brother wasn’t going to be living with your parents the rest of his life. Who knows maybe at this rate he could move in with Demi. You rolled your eyes at the idea.

With a huff passing by your lips, you moved towards James’s dresser and pulled out a pair of black basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. As soon as you had the clothes in your hands, you basically sprinted back to your room, gagging as the laughter only seemed to be louder than the first time you heard it as you passed the stairs. Walking back into the room, you closed the door behind you and leaned against the doorway a sigh escaping you.

Shawn turned around from where he stood by your bed, more buttons undone on his white polo. He looked towards you with confusion as you generally looked disgusted. “I don’t know how you think it’s okay that Demi and James are downstairs flirting heavily on the couch.”

Though things were far from perfect, Shawn still laughed, “I think they’re cute.”

You practically gasped at the sentence as your finger came up and pointed in his direction. “Don’t do that. Nope, not going to happen, mister. My brother, Demi, and cute are not all allowed in the same sentence.”

He laughed again causing your chest to warm at the sound as you lifted yourself off the door and approached him. “Here,” you said smiling up at him as you handed him the shorts and shirt.

“Thanks,” he smiled taking them, hand brushing against yours in the process.

You stared at each other for a few seconds, before you brushed by him and over to your side of the bed. Sitting down on the edge, you looked back towards your window, away from him so he could change without your eyes staring at him. It was funny how you two were acting like earlier hadn’t happened. It was like he was denying that he had found out you had been sick and you were ignoring that he said he loved you. In your mind, it seemed like if you just passed by it without acknowledging it, it would all go away, and you weren’t sure if you were supposed to let it or not.

“Should I take the guest bedroom?” his voice broke through your thoughts and when you glanced over your shoulder, you found him dressed and hand gripping the doorknob to your door.

You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips, “Shawn, don’t be ridiculous. You can sleep here with me. It wouldn’t be the first time we slept in the same bed.”

It was funny to you, how he couldn’t be away from you at the moment but offered to sleep in the guest room.

“I just wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not,” he mumbled hands gripping the jeans and shirt he had been wearing all day.

“Shawn?”

“Yeah?” he replied.

“Just shut up and get over here,” you chuckled pulling the covers back on your bed and crawling in.

Dropping his clothes to the floor, near your nightstand, he slipped into the other side of the bed and without him even touching you, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He laid on his back, hands clasped across his stomach, and eyes staring at the ceiling. You were on your side, hand propped under your head, as you looked at him. Turning his head, his gaze met yours, and a pleading smile formed on your face hoping he would finally stop acting like earlier hadn’t happened.

You wished that he would start asking you questions about what it was like the hospital or even better, kiss you and hold you for the rest of the night. But he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, his hand moved towards your nightstand where he turned your lamp off engulfing the room in darkness.

You sighed, disappointingly, falling onto your back on the mattress. Your head sunk into the pillow, and your eyes locked onto the dark ceiling with one thought on your mind as silence filled the room. Maybe this was the end. Maybe you and Shawn were a mistake and it was best to stay just friends. You hoped that wasn’t the case but as of the moment that’s what it was looking like was going to happen because he wasn’t acting like the man who claimed that he loved you. No, he was acting like the best friend who was sleeping in your bed and was too scared to move in case he would end up accidentally grazing your thigh giving you the wrong idea.

You didn’t know how much time had passed. Was it an hour? Two? Or had it only been thirty minutes? You weren’t sure but what you were sure about was that Shawn was still awake too. His breathing wasn’t light and steady like it would be if he was sleeping and every couple minutes you would hear him sigh which gave it away that he wasn’t asleep.

Not able to take it anymore, you leaned over his body and turned your lamp back on. You sat up in the bed, knees to your chest, to meet his tired eyes that were very much open. His eyes locked with yours and within seconds he was sitting up too, covers falling down his chest and into his lap. He looked at you worriedly, that single ‘s’ shaped curl hanging across his forehead.

“I can’t sleep,” you mumbled simply.

“Why? What’s the matter?” Shawn asked either acting clueless or in reality, happened to be so dumb that he was that clueless.

“What’s the matter,” you retorted sending his words back at him, “What’s the matter is that we’re lying here and you can barely say more than four words to me. A few hours ago you say that you love me but now it’s like you’re scared to even touch me.”

Your hands found their way to your face, covering your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at Shawn. It falls silent for a good thirty seconds before you hear a deep breath from Shawn and then feel his warm palm land on your knee. He scooted closer to you too and you could feel how warm he was as his skin touched yours.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized chin falling onto your shoulder, “It’s just I can’t stop thinking. Can’t stop picturing you in that hospital bed without me there by your side. You told me and that should be enough but I guess it’s not if that’s all I can think about.”

Hands falling from your face, you heard turned to him. His face was only inches away from yours. His eyes were wide and no longer looking droopy and tired and his lips were puffed out almost asking for you to lean over and kiss them.

“Please just tell me something,” he begged to give your knee a light squeeze, “I know it’s probably hard to talk about but I need to know something. Anything about what it was like in that hospital.”

You nodded, forehead bumping his lightly, as you reached forward to brush the curl back and out of his eyes. Sitting back against the headboard, your hands fiddled with the comforter in your lap. He laid on his side, hand running up and down your thigh for comfort as his amber eyes were zoned on you.

“I don’t really know where to start except that it was hard,” you sighed, head falling back against the wood frame, “The chemo was probably the worst part. It does a lot to a person. You’re constantly dizzy, you don’t ever feel like eating, and always think you’re going to vomit. Honestly the only thing, I can think about that wasn’t completely horrible about it all is that during chemo they would give us these cancer popsicles that tasted like oranges. That wasn’t so bad I guess. Oh, and in the spring, sometime after I had been given a room when the cancer started to get bad, Patty, the sweetest nurse at that hospital, would sneak me outside in a wheelchair so I could enjoy the fresh air. I would just sit there soaking up as much sunlight as I could as the breeze danced across my dry skin. Those were the best days, I think.”

You smiled softly at the memories, of Patty and how she had always managed to balance out those bad days with some good ones. She was a light of sunshine who cared about every single one of her patients and at the top of her list, a spot had been created for your name.

Eyes looking back towards Shawn who laid silently watching you, you knew there was more you should say. So reaching down, you lifted your shirt revealing your stomach. his orbs followed the movement and widened as they locked onto the three pink scars. Two of them were small and on your waist, either side of your belly button while the third was large and extended below that horizontally, a few inches long.

“The worst day, I would probably have to say is when they told me I would have to get a hysterectomy if I wanted to survive,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes, “They took my ovaries, uterus, and my fallopian tubes and I remember after it happened, I remember the only thing I could think about when I woke up was that I was never going to be able to have any babies. This plan that I thought I had for my life had changed and I realized that I would never be able to do the one thing that a woman’s body was made to do. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to give, the man that I would someday spend the rest of my life with, a child and that alone is so unfair.”��

At this point, tears were slowly falling down your cheeks, as you stared at Shawn. His eyebrows were furrowed and a frown played on his lips as he looked at your sad state. Slowly without a word, he leaned forward, and his lips found a safe place along your stomach. He kissed softly at the left scar on your waist, and after a few seconds switched to the other.

A sad sigh fell from you, hand moving up to knot in his curls as his warm plump lips moved lower towards the largest scar, the one you despised the most. “I really wanted to have a baby someday,” you cried as he kissed at the sensitive skin gently.

After another minute he sat up and you let your shirt drop, recovering your stomach. Both of his hands cupped your face where his thumbs went to work wiping underneath your eyes until there were no more tears staining your skin. Then he wrapped his left hand around the back of your neck and pulled you closer to him. Your face sat along the dip of where his neck and shoulder met as your arms wrapped around his strong torso. Shawn’s nose nestled into your hair and for the next few moments, you both sat there enjoying the comfort that was brought to the both of you.

“I knew that I was right,” his voice rang through your ears causing you to sit back so you could look at his face as he talked, “I wish I hadn’t been but I knew that I was right.”

You were confused, “About what?”

“The hair,” he answered simply and you gave him a small look that said you were thankful he changed the subject, “I knew that you were too crazy to ever cut it.”

“You’re right about that. Too bad it wasn’t my choice,” you admitted hand slipping under his, James’s, t-shirt. Your cold hand splayed across his lower back, the warmth instantly spreading across your palm.

“Eh, I like the short hair,” Shawn admitted reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

A soft smile rose to your lips, as your other hand found a place near the collar of the white shirt, where your thumb began to swipe across the skin on his neck, “At least you didn’t have to see me bald.”

“I bet you were beautiful,” he responded, gaze falling down to your lips.

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his words. Your breathing was getting heavier and at first, you didn’t know what to say in response. It was silent as Shawn sat, hand cupping your cheek while the other moved to your waist. His eyes were locked onto your lips and the only thing you wanted at that very moment was for him to kiss you. It was killing you the longer you waited and you were practically squirming under his touch. You could smell the remains of his cologne and the cinnamon that always clung to his skin. He leaned in closer the smell invading your senses as his forehead leaned against yours.

“Shawn, please kiss me,” you whispered and without a second to waste he obliged.

You sighed happily, eyes fluttering to a close as you fell back into the mattress, Shawn falling on top of you. Your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him in closer towards your body as his lips molded with yours. Your body reacted instantly, melting against his. His thumb stroked your cheek lovingly and all you could think about was how soft and warm his lips were against yours. It made you realize how in many ways it was like the first kiss you ever shared. Sweet. Soft. And all around life changing.

next part

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #my writing #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes angst #shawn #mendes #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you #shawn x reader #shawn x y/n #shawn x you

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televisionrulesthenation · 3 years

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S1E8 - “To Tell or Not to Tell”

Original air date: November 14, 1961

Episode recap

The Petries are hosting a dinner party. Buddy and Sally do a sing-songy comedy routine while Rob plays the piano. Rob gets up and does a physical comedy routine. Laura gets up and does (what I assume is) some sort of ‘60s-style dancing. Cut to the end of the party, all the guests leave, Rob is tired, Laura goes on and on about what I wonderful time she had dancing.

Next day at the office Rob talks about how much fun Laura had dancing for the dinner party audience. Buddy is worried. Apparently non-homemaking interests from the wife should be worrying to the husband. Mel comes in and asks Rob if Laura can fill in as a dancer on the show this week. Buddy gets more worried. He thinks being married to a career woman is bad. Rob calls Laura to see if she’s interested assuming she won’t be. She’s interested.

Back at home Rob and Richtie are having dinner together because Laura is still rehearsing at the show. He fails at making a TV dinner. They eat bananas instead. Later that night Laura comes home tired. Rob has questions about how to operate the washing machine. Roles have become reversed. Rob is not happy but keeps it to himself.

Next day at the office the snappy service guy is dropping off lunch for Rob, Buddy and Sally. Laura comes in on a break looking hot in her leotard. The lunch delivery guy gawks over her.

After Laura’s successful week as a fill-in, Mel tells Rob he wants to offer her a permanent contract as a dancer on the show. Rob is worried but delivers the news to Laura at home that night. Laura is happy. She had a fun week proving to herself she could do it. But her body can’t keep up. She wants to be a homemaker not a career woman. Rob is relieved.

Everything is about me

Ostensibly, we can make it on my salary alone. But then she went back to work part-time, and the budget balanced a little more easily. We were able to move into this bigger house. There was a little money for some fun.

But she wasn’t happy working, and we figured she didn’t need to work, so she quit.

And the budget got tighter. We can make it. But there’s not a lot of room for fun. Or all those finishing aesthetic touches on our new house.

Her going back to work part-time bought me some peace if I’m being honest.

In the back of my mind I figured as the kids got older, she’d be able to work more, and that be our money boost. I didn’t need to obsess over getting promoted to make an income leap. That leap would be solved for organically by her eventually working full time.

And I still sort of feel that way. But her quitting is a temporary blip. Like I said, she wasn’t happy. She was feeling stressed and not operating in a position of strength to be the best mom she could be. She wants to focus on her health and happiness and kids’ health and happiness.

She wanted to figure out what the heck she wants to do with the rest of her life. She wants to take an art class and find the right exercise program and start a garden and do whatever else projects.

Problem is all that figuring out costs money and there isn’t a whole lot of it to spare in the current tight budget. And my attitude is probably putting pressure on her that some sort of clock is counting down until she figures something out and gets back to work. I keep saying “this year” or “these two years” like there’s a cliff at the end.

And she really doesn’t love doing some of the things she would need to do to truly make this work. We backed off some expenses, like housecleaner and dog groomer only once per month. But haven’t gone truly all in.

To truly make this work, we would need no housecleaning, no dog grooming, no pool cleaner, no yard guy. Her do all that stuff, work it into a schedule. Do whatever the 2021 version of clip coupons is, and really lock down our grocery budget. Essentially do all the homemaking things.

Our kids’ soccer training schedules are brutal Monday through Thursday evening and we still haven’t figured out how to do dinner those nights in a healthy and cost effective way with our sanity in check. That would take effort that she doesn’t want to put forth.

So it’s been four months, and she is not any closer to figuring out what she wants to do, she is not any healthier or happier. The trade-off was supposed to be less money for more time and happiness. But I’m not sure we are getting what we paid for with the forgone part-time dollars she was bringing in.

I am not sure where that leaves her or us.

Episode observations

Life before cell phones

No major changes to the plot except I reckon many of these Rob/Laura conversations--both the routine and the difficult--happen via text not phone.

Clothes and fashion

Rob’s cardigan and polo shirt and slacks house wear, he looked like Mr. Rogers.

Richtie’s robe and button up pajamas, he looked like Hugh Hefner.

Laura’s leotard, she looked hot.

Vocabulary lesson

Someone, I think it may have been buddy, said something along the lines of, “give him a rap, right in the mouth.” I assume raps means punch/hit/strike. I feel like I’ve heard this usage before but can’t think of where.

OK, wow, just Googled it, and this usage is the first definition in both noun and verb form, while rap as in the music is the second definition.

Best joke/funniest moment

Clearly, the funniest moment of the show was Buddy’s. He was funny throughout. But one moment in particular stood out. He’s talking to Rob about how to get Laura give up on a career in dance and says to take her on a skiing trip. Rob replies that Laura can’t ski, she’ll break her leg. Buddy gets this evil look in his eyes and says, “yeah” with a dramatic pause. The “yeah” was good enough, but he tags on, “you catch on fast.” They call back to this at the end of the episode when Laura mentions maybe she could dance on the show one week per year then Rob asks if she’d like to go skiing.

But I have to give honorable mention to a not as funny but just so well written joke. Rob is about to call Laura about her career prospects. Buddy says, don’t do anything rash. Sally says, leave him alone, it’s his rash.

(Dishonorable mention to Sally’s jokes about needing a husband. They are getting old and I would like them to stop.)

Assorted thoughts on life in the 1960s

Laura’s dancing at the beginning of the episode was odd looking to me. I guess it’s just dated. I kept waiting for it to be a comedy setup. That she’d get injured or something. Not that it’d be interpreted as good.

People watched sing-songy variety shows on TV backed then apparently. Up until this episode--or maybe the previous episode--I hadn’t put much thought into what the fictional Alan Brady Show was supposed to be. But I guess it’s a sing-songy variety show. And I guess people liked that sort of thing. I haven’t done a “checking in with my mom” section on this blog recently and probably should have on this topic. Maybe in upcoming posts I will get her take on ‘60s variety shows

The 1960s attitude on traditional gender roles were on heavy display. Buddy was laying it on thick about disdain for working women, e.g. “losing a wife, gaining a roommate.” (Buddy has plenty more borderline sexist analogies about working women sprinkled throughout.) Mel checks with Rob first about career decisions concerning Laura. Rob can’t cook, even a frozen dinner. Eventually Laura conforms to this too, admitting she’d wants Rob to take her away from all this, doesn’t want to be a dancer, she wants to be a wife.

Final thoughts

Sometimes I question if were are splitting the baby to some extent when it comes to working. At least at this point now that our youngest is less than a couple years to middle school. That is should we go full traditional model or full dual income model not this mixed economy model we’ve got going on? And sometimes I think maybe we’re doing exactly the work-life integration model that 2021 calls for.

#s1 #e8 #the dick van dyke show #sitcoms #tv #dick van dyke #mary tyler moore #1960s #work #marriage #happiness #money

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theladyofdeath · 5 years

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Rags & Riches {4}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: If you don’t like smut, don’t read this.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

Feyre was pissed the fuck off.

She hurried through the manor, completely over the ball. Once she found her room, she locked herself inside and plopped herself down on her bed.

Who the hell did Rhysand, Lord of Velaris, think he was?

He was so cocky, so entitled, so ridiculously suave that Feyre wanted to break something. Anything would do.

His wife?

Did he truly think she would want to be his wife?

Then again, what choice did she have?

She was the youngest daughter of Isaac Archeron. Very few of such a status paid attention to her. And even though she would rather spend her life as an adventurous nomad, she did not have such a luxury.

Rhysand’s proposal, if it could even be called that, was the only one that she had ever received and the only one that she would probably ever receive.Yes, she was lovely, but men wanted a woman with status. Being the youngest daughter, there was only so much that Feyre had to offer. And yet, it was not his arrogance that made her so infuriated.

He was right.

She was drawn to him, and she wasn’t sure why.

He was handsome, of course, but was she so shallow that she only thought about his appearance? I mean, it was nearly all she knew about him.

He was handsome, and a total prick. And completely convinced that Feyre would become his wife.

Feyre didn’t believe that she would become his wife, and yet, there was a tingling in the pit of her stomach every time she thought about it. Their offspring would surely be beautiful. But that was beside the point. Feyre wondered if her father knew, if Rhysand had approached him before he had approached her. She doubted it, although the thought was rather charming. With a deep sigh, she took off her boots and slipped off her gown. It had been a long night, and she could no longer deal with the suffocating apparel she was forced to wear. As she dressed herself in her nightgown and pulled the pins from her hair, all she could think about was him. And it was shit, because she knew that was exactly what he wanted.

As she closed her eyes, she infuriatingly knew that one thing was certain.

Violet eyes would haunt her dreams.

~~~~~~

“I think you’ve had enough,” Cassian muttered, but Nesta wasn’t listening.

She hadn’t been listening from the moment they stepped into the tavern. Except for the fact that Cassian had told her to remove the pins in her hair, which she had, and brought her hair back into a tight braid, instead, that could be better hidden beneath her hood - which she was to keep up at all times. Although they gained some suspicious glances, no one seemed to notice the eldest daughter of Lord Archeron. Cassian was certain they looked like common travelers, as long as no one studied the bottom of Nesta’s skirts poking out of the long, simple cloak.

“One more,” she begged, words slurring as she took the full tin cup of ale to her lips. “Have you ever tasted anything so glorious?”

Cassian couldn’t help but chuckle. “Most think it tastes like piss.”

“And what do you think?” she asked, brows wiggling beneath her hood as she chugged.

“Definitely piss,” he said, nodding, agreeing with his earlier statement.

“Well, I’ll let it slide that you keep saying piss in front of a woman of my stat-status because I feel so lovely.”

She broke into a fit of laughter as Cassin took the cup from her and set it on the bartop in front of them.

“Should I pour her another?” the barmaid asked, leaning across the table to Cassian to the point in which her top slid down and gave him a glimpse of what laid beneath.

Cassian’s eyes drifted from her breasts to her eyes, where he found she was glad he had noticed what he had. “No, thank you, she’s had enough.”

The barmaid ran her fingers gently over the back of Cassian’s palm. “You know, if you would leave her be for a few moments, there is an empty room up above we could-”

“Although a very generous offer, Miss, I’m spoken for,” he said.

“Miss?” she repeated, cheeks growing pink. “You speak very nice.”

Nesta stopped laughing, as just noticing what was taking place beside her.

“EXCUSE me,” she said, hopping off the stool to her feet. “I would ask you to kindly take your hands off my escort.” Without waiting for the barmaid to do so, Nesta took it upon herself to take the maid’s hand off Cassian’s. “And cover your breasts! Do you have no shame?”

The barmaid leaned further over the bartop as if to say no. Nesta scoffed. “How appalling. Cassian, we are leaving.”

“Sorry,” Cassian apologized, sympathetic eyes finding the barmaid. “She gets...entitled when she’s drunk.”

“I see,” the barmaid said, eyes grazing over Nesta, who was now clapping along to the fiddles playing in the corner and the elderly man doing a step dance in the middle of the tavern. “A sloppy drunk, she is.”

Cassian snorted, agreeing as he pushed himself off his stool. He fished his hands into his pockets and cursed, realizing he had no coins. He leaned to Nesta and whispered into her ear. “Do you have the means to pay for your ale?”

Nesta snorted. “Oh, no, ladies do not carry coins.”

Cassian’s eyes landed on the slim silver bracelet that dangled from her wrist as she clapped. “Do this have any significance to you?”

Nesta looked at the bracelet, then to him, before ignoring both entirely and continuing to watch the show.

Cassian took her wrist, slipped off her bracelet, and continued to make a fool of herself as Cassian turned back to the maid. “Here, hope this covers it.”

Her blue eyes grew wide as she took the bracelet. “Thank you.”

Cassian gave her a nod, realizing the bracelet was worth enough shitty binge drinking for a month and took Nesta’s arm to drag her out of the tavern. She was still dancing as they entered into the dark night, the music growing muffled as the door closed behind them.

“How marvelous,” Nesta said, spinning around, holding her cloak out as if it was the world’s grandest skirt. “Wasn’t tonight just lovely?”

Cassian raised a brow as she stuck her arm through his. “I believe you are quite drunk, my Lady.”

“I love those words coming from your mouth,” Nesta slurred, as they walked back in the direction of Marigold. “My Lady. You have a very beautiful voice, stableboy.”

“It is kind of you to think so.”

“You are very handsome, too. Much more handsome than all the men my father wishes to court me.”

Cassian looked down at her, her arm still looped through his. “Don’t you wish to be courted?”

“And become married?” Nesta laughed. “No. Absolutely not.”

She said the words so harshly that Cassian believed they weren’t true.

“What of the man I saw with you the other night?”

Nesta’s eyes cut to him. “Tomas.” She spat the name. “Yes, I thought he would offer marriage. How foolish I was.”

“Why is that?” Cassian asked, seeing how much the ale would allow her to spill.

“I have given myself to that bastard continuously for years,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And, of course, he was not all that bad at it, the love making. Great? Certainly not, but adequate. Not that I have any other man to compare him to. Anyway, after all that I had given him, I suspected he would offer marriage. Until tonight. At the ball.”

“I’m not following, my Lady,” Cassian said, attempting to show no surprise at what she had confessed in her drunken state.

“He is now engaged,” Nesta slurred. “He is now engaged to a young, beautiful, proper woman, and I was just a toy he used. Although, I cannot say he was not a toy I used, as well.”

“Ah,” Cassian said, finally realizing what Nesta had been needing to get away from tonight. The only man she thought would offer her marriage was now engaged to another. In the eyes of her peers, if anyone were to find out she had already been with a man, she would be ruined.

“Surely another man will offer marriage soon,” Cassian said.

Nesta cackled. “I am not actively seeking a husband, stableboy. However, my father would protest. He wishes to see his three daughters married to rich men. He is a man. We are women. Our word means shit next to his.”

“A Lady should not curse.”

“I am not a Lady at the moment,” Nesta said, using the arm that was not looped through Cassian’s to gesture to the ghost town around them, as everyone was either in their home or at the tavern behind them. “I am but a low born woman without a care in the world.”

Cassian did not bother to correct her. Surely, the lower class had many problems, most of them financial. But, there was a certain freedom to it, especially for women. Many of the girls Cassian had grown up with were allowed to marry for love, his sister included when she became of age. He could easily see how a woman, such as Nesta, in the higher class would feel trapped.

“Well, let us get you back home,” Cassian said as they reached Marigold. The mare huffed as Cassian pressed his forehead against the side of hers. “Yes, Mari, I missed you too. Take us home?”

The horse huffed once more as Cassian helped Nesta onto the saddle. She scooted forward, and Cassian mounted himself behind her. His broad arms wrapped around her and grabbed the reins. Nesta fell back against his chest, utterly exhausted, as Marigold began her trot back to the manor.

~~~~~

Elain had never been with a man before, but she had dreamt of this moment for so long, late at night, when the taste of his lips from their goodnight kiss still lingered on her tongue. Elain knew of Azriel’s past, of how he had been raised, and knew that the scars that covered his hands beneath those gloves, that covered his arms beneath his shirt sleeves, had come from the horrid man that had raised him throughout his young childhood. Elain’s delicate fingers trembled as they brushed those scars, first on his palms, then up his arms, across his chest, his back.

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch, as her fingertips explored the beauty of his pain and how he had overcome it. Elain’s heavy gown had long ago been dismissed, and she felt vulnerable in her thin underskirts and corset. Elain hated corsets. She only had to wear them for the grandest of occasions, but she was thankful for it now, as it was yet another piece of armor that shielded her body. She had dreamt of Azriel exploring her body, but had never dreamt it would truly happen. Now that the moment had arrived, knowing that he would see her in her truest nature had her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

She sat on the edge of her bed as Azriel knelt before her. He took her hand in his and kissed her palm, gently, before untying the silk ribbon that had been snuggly fit around her wrist. Once it fell loose, Azriel took her other hand and repeated the process. Then he took her foot and sat it upon his lap before reaching under her skirt and slowly slipping off her stocking, then the other. His eyes connected with hers with a question, and with a nervous nibble of her bottom lip, she nodded.

“If you want me to stop at any time,” Azriel whispered, “say the word, and I will.”

Elain nodded, feeling more love for him than she ever had, which she truly hadn’t thought was possible. Azriel was a great man, a gentle man with a good heart, who had lived a life that none should have to live. He rose to his feet and held out his hand, which Elain accepted without hesitation. They stood together in front of the crackling fire, so close they could feel the heat of one another’s breath as Azriel’s scarred fingers reached for the lace bow, tied together perfectly at the top of her corset. He did not rush, but for the entirety of it, Elain could not breathe. Those fingers took their time as they pulled the laces out of the hooks, and with each one being freed, Elain’s heart beat faster. With her corset removed, Azriel stepped back to admire her in her thin, white shift. Elain took no movement to hide, and all fear faded as she gingerly reached up to pull her shift down from her shoulders. Azriel watched, perfectly still, save for his chest rising and falling, as the shift fell to the floor and she stepped out of it, that step taking her another step toward her beloved. Azriel reached out to admire her clear, ivory skin. The back of his fingers brushed down her cheek before pushing a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Elain watched him as his eyes hovered over her, his breathing heavy as his fingers trailed down to her shoulders, her collarbone, between her breasts.

Elain shuddered as Azriel stepped closer, his thumb brushing over her nipple, his warm, rough skin making contact with a part of her body in which no one had touched before sending a jolt to her very core. Elain didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move, didn’t dare do anything to break his concentration. She watched him, quietly, as his eyes, soft and full of adoration, followed his fingers as they trailed to her waist, and back up her side.

Hazel eyes met brown, and Azriel took a step closer to her, but Elain quickly took a step back.

Azriel froze, eyes growing worried, as if he had done something to offend her.

Elain couldn’t help but smile, the reaction so like him that Elain couldn’t help it. She had no idea how a man such as he, whom she loved so adamantly, could possibly think that he could do wrong in a moment such as this.

“I believe we should be equal,” she said, voice quietly above the cackling flames. When Azriel raised a brow, she glanced at his trousers, still hanging loosely from his hips. A small smile appeared on his thick lips as he nodded, meekly, before undoing the rest of the buttons and allowing his trousers to fall to the wooden floorboards. Elain knew her eyes widened but tried not to gawk at the hardened length of him. She had seen many paintings, of course, and even they had made her blush throughout the years. But here, a real man, a beautiful man, stood before her, completely bare, ready for her. And Elain had never seen anything so pure, so lovely, as he.

He took a step forward, tentatively, as if he was not quite sure how she would react. But she did not move, did not falter.

“If at any time you wish for me to stop-” Azriel began, once more, but Elain shook her head.

“I do not wish for you to stop,” Elain said, taking a step forward of her own, meeting him halfway and taking his face between her palms.

She looked up at him and held his gaze. His eyes were so soft, so full of joy and love and bewitchment, that she had no doubt that he was the other half of her soul, given to her by the gods themselves.

“If this shall be our only time, then let it be one to remember.”

Azriel let out a long, loose breath before a rare, genuine smile escaped him and those lips that she so lovingly admired pressed against her own. And as if they had been caged, parted for too long, that gentle kiss pressed into something more, as his broad arms wrapped around her slim waist and brought her closer. Her body pressed against his, and she could barely contain her hands from shaking as her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers burying themselves into the dark, messy mop atop his head.

Azriel grinned against her mouth as he lifted her up, and Elain couldn’t help but throw her head back and giggle as her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Shhh,” Azriel reminded her, laughing quietly himself, as he laid her down atop the rug in front of the fireplace in her bedchamber. Without putting on her his full weight, Azriel hovered above her, his elbows resting on each side of her head. They watched each other for a moment, their smiles fading as the silence resumed. Azriel shook his head, only slightly, as he brushed her wild hair back from her face.

“What?” she whispered.

Azriel’s lips pressed against her forehead before he leaned back up and said, “I love you.”

“And I love you,” she replied, her voice shaking - not because she did not believe that statement in her heart and soul, but because she knew what was coming next. Azriel pressed his forehead against hers. “If at any time-”

“If you tell me one more time that you will stop, I will throttle you,” she said, and he laughed, breathlessly, as she said, “I want you, right here, right now, and only you forevermore.”

They did not allow themselves to think such a thing was impossible, for the future did not matter. All that mattered was the here and now, was the moment they were about to share. A moment that could never be taken from them, no matter the future. Her mouth found his, urgently, because waiting any longer was something she simply could not bear. Elain’s hands shakily trailed from his shoulders, down his back, to his firm backside where she tugged beckoning him forward. His breath became heavy against her mouth, his teeth grazing along her lower lip, struggling to contain himself.

Don’t, she thought, reaching between their bodies to stroke him, softly, teasingly.

A low growl tumbled from his mouth into hers, and Elain thrived on it. The only instruction she had ever had in this area came from a book that Nesta hid deep within her most personal belongings - a romance novel which she had purchased in town and kept out of the library, in case it had ever been discovered by their father. The girls had huddled into Nesta’s room one night, a rare night that they had spent together, reading the book and giggled and blushed at the pages’ descriptive scenes.

Now, she was not giggling at all. Blushing, perhaps, but there were many reasons for that. Her fingers wrapped around his cock and that growl returned as his tongue slipped between her lips, no longer gentle but longing, wanting, needing. Elain let the sounds flooding out of him guide her as the hand that held him moved, slowly but confidently. His hand soon found hers, and he guided her, moving faster, until his mouth pressed too firmly against her own, his tongue dancing so quickly alongside her own, that Elain was not certain where her mouth ended and his began. Azriel suddenly took himself off her, beckoning her hand to stop. She opened her eyes, and his own were wild, his cheeks flushed, as she was sure were her own. Azriel guided her hand up above her head, and did the same to her other, until she was lying flat on the floor, sprawled out like a masterpiece for him to worship. He leaned down to press his lips softly to her neck, just below her jaw, and down to her collarbone, where his tongue trailed to her shoulder, and back, until his trail of kisses fell lower, between her breasts, then his mouth found her nipple, his tongue circling the tender skin until he felt the other was left out, and happily and equally obliged. Elain’s fingers twisted into his hair as he trailed lower, the throbbing between her legs growing nearly unbearable as he spread them further apart, pressing his lips softly to the inside of one thigh, then the other. There was a pause in which he pulled away, though not very far, Elain still felt cold from the absence of his lips. But then his fingers softly felt her. He would be gentle, of course, knowing full well it was her first time. Yet, a part of her didn’t want him to be gentle at all. He stroked her with those beautiful, scarred fingers, once, then once more, before slipping one inside of her.

Elain gasped, but he went slow, was gentle. He pumped his finger inside of her, then added another finger alongside the first, and Elain’s breathing quickened, deepened, her arms falling back behind her head as he pleased her. But then his fingers fell away, and she nearly protested, until his mouth replaced them. This was not in the book, but Elain had no idea why, because the feeling nearly had her floating on air. A long, deep moan tumbled from her lips that she could not control as his tongue swept between her folds in a slow, repetitive movement. Her back arched, and her knees began to shake as that tongue circled her clit. The moment he began sucking was the moment Elain Archeron became completely undone. She had not realized she could feel so free, had not realized such pleasure existed. When his mouth left her sex, she nearly whimpered, but he crawled back up her body, only stopping once his cock was perfectly in place, the tip pressed against her opening.

“Please,” she begged, hiking her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, to pull him closer.

Azriel pushed himself into her slowly.

Elain gasped, eyes flying open as he continued to push, until he couldn’t fall into her any farther. He stayed like that a moment before slowly pulling himself out, then pushing himself back in with just a little more force. His eyes remained on hers, but Elain couldn’t help from closing her eyes, from dwelling in the pleasure of her love inside of her, from whispering his name, over and over again.

Azriel. Azriel. Azriel.

He thrived on it, unable to stop his own sounds from breaking the quiet. They were meant to be keeping silent, but it was impossible. Azriel bit down on his lip as Elain pressed her hand against her own mouth, muffling the moans that she could not keep within. Elain had imagined many times what sex would feel like, what it would be like. She had dreamt of sharing this moment with Azriel, but none of those dreams had her thinking it would feel so good, would be so beautiful. They had become one. There was no Elain and Azriel, but a new being in which they had shedded their old selves and created a new one together. The future did not matter when they were in that new self, the future did not exist. All that existed in all the world, in all the realms, was the two of them, bodies intertwined, hearts and souls connected.

And when it was over, that bond did not break.

They laid together, beneath a quilt, next to the fireplace as the early hours of the morning approached and went by. He stroked her hair as she grew tired, smiling faintly, unable to do anything else.

“I love you,” she whispered, barely audible above the flames.

“I love you,” he repeated, in equal quietness.

She knew he would have to leave soon, and that thought lingered in the back of her mind, but she tried her best to push it away.

And yet, when she awoke the next morning as the sun was rising on the horizon, completely unaware when she had fallen asleep in Azriel’s arms, woke up alone. Her body still bare, the fire had died down long ago, the absence of him was agonizing.

But a small glimmer of hope sparked when she noticed her name written sloppily atop a note, sitting where his body had been lying only hours before.

She gathered the quilt against her body as she opened it up and read what was inside.

I love you, now and always. If that would be our only time, I shall never forget a moment of it.

Elain neatly folded the note and ran it to her bedside table, where she hid it inside of her journal.

Now and always.

If only always were as easy as it had been the night before.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725 @musicmaam

#r&r #tacmc #tara writes #elriel #feysand #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm

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letaliabane · 5 years

Text

I Still Care

summary: Even after your breakup, you can’t help but feel protective over the man you loved so much.

warnings: a bit of angst, gunfire

prompts (If you would like to request a prompt, please include the name of the list and the number of the prompts)

19. I’m going to kill you! (angst list)

19. I can’t stand the thought of losing you (love list)

I entered the meeting room, juggling folders of paperwork and wandering through the room full of officers and coworkers. The first face I just happened to look up towards was Javier, and I couldn’t help but let out a groan under my breath.

Let’s just say Javier Peña and I had history, and not one i enjoyed retelling. We had been together for about six months. In all honesty it wasn’t his fault our relationship ended, it was mine.

One night when we had laid together after one of our many heated moments, as his head rested against my chest, lax and worn out, that I couldn’t help but gaze down at him.

His breath brushed against the skin of my breast, eyes occasionally twitching as he dreamt, a snore leaving his lips every so often. His arms unconsciously tightened around me, his warmth wrapped around me, making me feel safe but also suffocating me.

It was the same warmth that had become so familiar from deep inside me whenever he smiled at me at the office. When he’d check on me, when he kissed me.

That one feeling that I knew would be our downfall.

So I ended it, blaming it all on the idea that ”we would be ruining our livelihoods and be shipped back to the Unites States all because of a fleeting romance.” I would never forget the pain that cross his features that day. And all because of me.

He made his way towards me, pushing through the other men that were in his way.

‘Y/N-’

‘Peña,’ I addressed him, brushing past him. From afar, Steve shook his head, sipping from his coffee cup intently.

He knew the reasoning behind why I had broken up with Javier thanks to Connie unable to stop herself from gossiping to her husband. He never questioned it, but I knew by the way he looked between us that he didn’t agree with it.

‘Okay listen up all of you!’ Colonel Martínez clapped his hands together, gaining the attention of the officers around the room.

‘We just received a tip that could help us in the chase of Escobar! Though it’s not ultimately about chasing him this. We have news that La Quica and a few others of Escobar’s top men are transferring goods just outside of Bogotá. If we can capture them and get them to talk, we can get information about Escobar that will definitely help us.’

I looked around at the men who muttered between one another and nodding before I spoke up, ‘Can we trust this tip?’

He sighed. ‘We have no other choice Y/L/N.’

‘We do! Instead we could send a recon team to scout out the situation and then-’

‘We don’t have time for that!’ I pulled away from the table as he slammed his fist onto it, shaking the glass furniture, seething, ‘you would know that if you were involved in more fieldwork.’

“I would if you gave me the chance dipshit” I thought to myself, digging my nails into my palm to calm myself as many of the other officers chuckled.

I was the first to leave the room, ignoring the looks I got as I made my way down the corridor, Steve catching up to me, ‘You think it’s a trap?’

‘Of course! An unknown tip with no motivation behind it? The Colonel is getting desperate at this point because he hasn’t had anything come up since Carrilo’s passing. But thats not going to stop me from coming out with you guys.’

We began grabbing out gear from the locker room, Steve deciding leave ahead to check on the unmarked cars that were being chosen for the job. I was just choosing a gun when I heard footsteps enter the room.

‘Y/N?’

I looked up to see Javier, his gear on and ready. I couldn’t help but avoid his gaze, busying myself with the rest of my weapons.

‘I know what your going to say Peña. That I shouldn’t be out in the field because its too dangerous but I’ll never learn if I don’t-’

‘I wasn’t going to say that, we need you out there on the field. Especially with a big headed idiot like Martínez out there calling the shots.’

I sighed, slamming the door to my locker before making my way towards the door just behind him. However I was stopped when he grabbed my arms, firmly but gently.

‘Just … be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.’

I couldn’t help but look up at him, and I knew then he wasn’t faking. His eyes were filled with care, his small smile loving, one that I was very familiar with.

I gave him a small smile, even gripping his hand. ‘You too.’

It had been a trap. The tip we had received was nothing but a hoax, a trick leading us to the outskirts of Bogotá where a number of Pablo’s men had been waiting for us.

I ducked my head as the gunfire flew overhead, leaning against the police truck that was getting vandalised by the bullets that flew through it. I couldn’t help but glance around quickly, and my stomach dropped at the sight of one missing.

‘Steve where’s Peña?!’ I screamed towards him on my left, raising my gun quickly, and shooting a few shots before ducking down again.

Steve cursed beneath his breath, also landing beside me in a heap, heavily breathing. ‘I don’t know! I saw him last going in with the other officers to scope the site.’

My stomach dropped as I peaked back towards the hideout, the one that was currently on fire, thick black smoke billowing from the tops of the towers.

‘I’m going to fucking kill him,’ I muttered before I grabbed my radio, screaming into it, ‘All units, eyes on building, Agent Peña is missing. I repeat, keep eyes on building, Agent Peña is missing!’

I watched as some men broke off from the group and head towards the building on the south side before leaning over the hood of the car, shooting as many of Escobar’s men as I could. Steve, also at my side, doing the same. Once they were all clear, I made my out of cover, running towards the base.

‘Colonel, do you have eyes on Peña?’ Steve yelled into his radio as we ran towards the building, ignoring the bodies that lay across the grass.

Just as we pushed past the fences, however, we were thrown backwards, hitting the concrete ground hard. I grabbed my ears once I blinked away the white spots away from my eyes, the ringing drowning out the sound of the officers around us, Steve gripping my arm as we sat up.

Flames engulfed the building before us, the smoke now filling the sky with ash and darkness, debris scattered across the driveway and lawn. A choked sob left me as I shook my head, gripping a hand over my mouth. I felt Steve grip my arm, pulling me into him.

Suddenly a yell rang out, ‘We need help over here!’

We both turned as officers began to emerge from the smoke on the left side of the building, many of them burned or shot, screaming out in pain. And at the back of the group, was Javier, holding up another officer.

I hobbled to my feet hurriedly, stalking over to him as he handed over the injured officer to some others. He looked up just in time as I threw myself at him. It took him a moment to register my arms around him before he pulled me in tight, pressing his face to my neck.

‘Goddamit Javier!’ I cried, running my hand through his hair desperately, pressing my lips to his neck, feeling him tremble beneath me, ‘why didn’t you get help through the radio?!’

I felt him sigh against my neck, gripping my hip. ‘N-No signal. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t get through!’

I pulled away, gripping his face in my hands to inspect him for wounds. I couldn’t help but smile as he leant into my touch, caressing his cheek gently.

‘You checking me out Y/L/N?’

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at the smirk he worse, only to frown when I saw the large tear in his shirt on his arm, revealing a nasty burn. The same with his waist, skin red and scorched.

Javier looking down at the site, eyebrows furrowing as the pain began to register through, gripping his waist.

‘I didn’t even know I was burned ...’

‘You should get that checked out Javier!’

I turned towards one of the ambulances that began to arrive in large groups, surrounding the area. Just as I let him be handed over to the nurses, he tugged me along, keeping me close.

As the nurses looked over him, cleaning up the wounds, he kept my hand in his, firmly squeezing it at times when they applied the antiseptic the burns. Finally when they had wrapped up the wounds in gauze and bandages, they left to attend to the rest of the wounded.

As he rested against the inside of the ambulance, I couldn’t help but run my fingers over the bandages, barely applying pressure to the cotton beneath my fingertips.

I looked up to find Javier’s eyes on me. I sighed. ‘This is ... probably the stupidest time to do this, but ... you did nothing wrong Javier. You did nothing that made me want to end what we had-’

‘And yet you did,’ I closed my eyes at the coldness of his words.

‘I-I was afraid, of this,’ I said while pointing between us, ‘and I thought that I could at least save us the hurt it would bring us-’

‘By making a decision for the both of us?’

‘I get it Javier! You despise me! And I can never take back the mistake I made! And it’s dumb that it took me this long to realise how much I love you and need you because in all honesty knowing you had gone in that building without even able to tell you how much you meant to me killed me! And I-I can’t stand the thought of losing you! But-but I understand if-’

I whimpered as he pulled me towards him, pressing his lips firmly against mine as he threaded his fingertips through my hair. I gripped his back, wrapping my hands around him as I held him close, my tears warm as they touched his cheeks.

‘Javier-’

‘Sometimes, you need to shut up,’ he gasped against my lips, pulling away with my lip between his teeth. I gasped softly, pressing my forehead to his, and I couldn’t help but smile.

He thumbed away the tears that strayed from my eyes, shaking his head, ‘I never stopped caring Y/N and I’m not about to give up the chance to try this again.’

Steve smiled from afar, pulling the cigarette from his lips with a smirk as he shook his head, heading back towards the car.

Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Tagged: @pascalisthepunkest

A/N: Yes I’m pulling these out of the bag one by one, hope you all are enjoying it! Feedback is always appreciated!

Remember requests are open for Pedro Pascal characters! Check it out and request whatever you like!

#javier pena #javier peña imagines #javier peña x reader #javier pena imagines #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #javier peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader imagines

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thetravelerbewithyou · 4 years

Text

I Knew Love’s Perfect Ache

Read on AO3 // Read from the beginning

Chapter 9: I’ll follow you then.

Clarke had known there was a possibility for Bellamy and her to fix things between them, but she had not allowed herself to be hopeful about it until the night she confessed to Bellamy why Finn was here.

He had been so understanding, so much his caring self, always the protector, it had made something inside her burn and flutter. As hopeful as she was, she was scared. Terrified actually, for Finn to ruin things, for her to be too closed off, because she was still quite weary of the Club and their way of earning money. Though every time she now saw Bellamy waiting for her at home after a long shift, or in Madi’s room, all her fears disappeared. She yearned to touch him, when she was close to him, to snuggle herself into his strong arms, when he was sitting on her couch, telling her about his day.

He had been over to her house almost every single night. Keeping her company. It was almost like in the old times, when they just were friends. However, there was a twinkle in his eyes now, every time he looked at her, as if Bellamy could sense where this could be going.

His gaze was so intense sometimes, she squirmed in her seat, turning away from him.

The memory alone made her blush and grin like a little school girl, while she walked through the halls of the hospital.

“What’s so funny, there, Darlin’.” Bellamy’s voice ripped her out of her daydream and she almost stumbled out of surprise.

“Bellamy, I didn’t realize you were coming in today.” He had told her as much a few days ago, if she remembered correctly.

“I wasn’t, but things changed and I wanted to see my favourite girls.” He smirked and Clarke’s blush returned as Bellamy went in to hug her tight to his chest. Her eyes fluttered close, as she breathed in his scent. Their embrace being too long to be interpreted as platonic. Out of the corner of her eyes, Clarke saw two nurses, watching them, giggling, so she pulled away from Bellamy, although reluctantly.

“So you are here to see Madi,” she inquired, standing close enough still, to see her favourite constellation of freckles.

“I already have.” Her eyes followed his right hand, as he raked it through his wild curls. “I’m here to take you home, if you want. We could watch a movie or something.” It was really cute how flustered he was all of the sudden.

“That sounds lovely, Bell. I can’t ride with you, though, because of my car.” He nodded, understanding.

“I’ll follow you then.”

Together they walked to the parking lot, their shoulders occasionally touching each other. When Clarke got to her car, she stole a last glance at Bellamy, as he mounted his bike, which was parked on the opposite side of the lot.

She noticed how controlled his movements were, as he threw his leg over the seat, how his jeans stretched over his muscled thighs. Clarke felt the need to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. With a light shake of her head, she tried to pull herself back into reality and got into her car.

The way they had walked out together of the hospital and how she had stared at him from her car, were unacceptable. How could she do this to him? TO HIM. Finn’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel of his car tighter. His breathing came faster, as white anger took over him. Blake was probably following her home, as he had the last whole week.

All of this was getting out of hand. Blake’s constant being there kept Finn from knocking at her door and confronting her. It probably wasn’t his smartest move, but he needed to talk to her again to see how far she had fallen for that filthy criminal, so unworthy of her.

The files he had ordered weren’t helping him as much as he wanted. There were no new leads, nothing he could pin on Blake - for the moment. He would find something, anything, to get the man out of the picture. He and Clarke would be happy again, Finn was certain of it.

Slowly and with a respectable distance he followed her car and the bike, accompanying her.

Marlise Griffin’s old house had not changed, despite Clarke living there for several weeks now. It kind of smelled like the old men still. Here and there she had given it her own touch with pictures of herself and her mother. Abby Griffin had been a bitter woman, after her husband had died and her daughter left town.

Bellamy never liked her, if he was being honest, but he respected her. The photo he was looking at, pictured a younger and softer version of the hard woman she had been, with Clarke on her hips, both of them smiling at each other.

“I miss her sometimes.” Clarke voiced right behind him, so he slowly turned around. She was wearing a soft t-shirt and black leggins now, gone were her scrubs and the all professional exterior.

“I miss my father sometimes, too.” He confessed. Bellamy never really talked about his father. Did not see a point in doing so. Especially because he had Charles, who had stepped in. He trusted his step-father, respected him, so it felt like a betrayal talking too much about his own old man.

Clarke acknowledged his admission with a quick nod.

“Do you want to order something to eat? I’m feeling like seafood pizza.”

An hour later, Bellamy was seated very comfortably on Clarke’s couch, the blonde right beside him, not quite touching, when he heard the delivery guy approach the door. Before Clarke could even move, he got up, signaling her that he got it.

One of Raven’s little birds was delivering Pizza today. It was a good way to keep track of the people living in Arkadia, when you had the food delivery drivers in your pocket, without the people actually knowing. So Bellamy smirked at Fox, who turned a little red.

“Thank you for the tip, Bellamy,” she said after handing him the carton. “I might have information for you.” Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up.

“What kind of information?”

“Well, Raven said to keep a lookout on a silver Prius, and there is one parked a couple of houses up the street. It seemed worth mentioning.” With a nod he thanked the girl and went back inside the house, locking up the door behind him. Either Collins was not done stalking Clarke or he was observing Bellamy. In the end it did not matter. If Bellamy were to test out which of the two options it was, he would have to leave Clarke alone and that he would not risk.

Back in the living room, Bellamy sat down the pizza on the coffee table, and peaked out of the window. Fox had been right. The car was parked not far from the house. Worry and the need to protect Clarke filled him.

“Everything okay, there Bell?” Clarke asked, as she came back from the kitchen with two plates in her hand.

“Collins is watching the house.” He watched her carefully and if he didn't know her as well as he did, he would not have noticed the change in her body. How she suddenly seemed smaller, more unsure and afraid.

“I’m afraid of him, Bellamy. And not just a little and I really don’t want to feel this way but I can’t help it.” Clarke’s voice was quiet and shaking.

Within seconds Bellamy was in front of her, taking the plates out of her hand, and grabbing her shoulders in his hands, gently forcing her to look up at him.

“Nothing is happening to you, Princess. Do you understand? I will not let anything happen to you. He will not touch you, or threaten you. I will take care of him, if he dares to come too close to you.”

The insistence in his voice must have calmed her down, enough, as she nodded.

“I trust you. But please don’t do anything he can use against you, because he will,” she said with a slight panic in her voice. “He is capable of so much, Bell. Please do not underestimate him.”

Bellamy nodded.

“Alright. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But I think it would be safer if I stayed on your couch tonight, that alright with you Darlin’?”

With a deep, calming sigh, Clarke agreed.

The next day, Bellamy drove to the clubhouse after having breakfast with Clarke. Seeing her in the morning, all adorable with her bed hair and bad mood, just made him wish to wake up next to her instead of her couch. He missed sleeping beside her, missed the intimacy of it.

He had not even parked his car yet, when Raven came out of the house, walking right towards him.

“Bellamy. Didn’t see you at breakfast. You finally convinced the Doc to let you warm her bed again?” She sneered.

“Petty and jealousy does not suit you, Rave,” he replied. “But if you have to know, I was at Clarke's. That asshole Collins was parked at her house last night.”

“You sure she isn’t in cahoots with him?” Bellamy made a beeline towards the house, Raven not leaving his side.

“Fuck yes Raven, I’m sure. And my word should be enough, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but Octavia had a point last night.” Bellamy stopped in his tracks.

“What did she say now?”

“First, your mom told us about her run in with Clarkey and the ATF idiot in the supermarket and Octavia did some digging last night. Did you know the princess was in a lovey dovey relationship with him? She probably transferred here, to make you fall in love with her again, to gain your trust and then sell you and all of us out.” Raven started gesturing widely, her voice raising. “You should not trust her, Bellamy. I certainly don’t, Octavia doesn’t either. And you mother…”

“My mother,” Bellamy interrupted his friend’s tyrade. “does not know everything. Neither does Octavia, nor do you.” Raven just stared at Bellamy with hard eyes.

“Tell me then, what I don’t know.”

“Collins is here for Clarke. Not us - we are just collateral damage, a way for him to get her back.” He would have to tell Clarke that he had to tell Raven and in extension the club.

“Why would he want Clarke? No offense Bellamy, but she’s just a Doctor.”

“Don’t talk about her like this. O had it right, they were together when she was in Boston. However the relationship turned sour, he even locked her inside her apartment. I don’t know what else he did to her. He has been stalking her since - that’s why she left Boston and came back here. Because she is afraid of her life, Raven.”

The woman before him, turned white, knowing he was telling the truth.

“That does change the situation.”

“I don’t know how to handle this, Rave. I want her safe, but I cannot do anything, like I want to, because he would use it against me. Even Kane couldn’t help me, if he arrests me. That goes for all of us. My hands are fucking tide.”

In his desperation, Bellamy kicked one of the barrels next to him, startling some of the other members sitting on the picnic table 15 feet away.

“We’ll find a way to keep her safe. But you should tell you mother and Octavia. Hell you should inform Pike about this situation. We all need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

“I know. I’ll talk to them. Do you know where my mother is by any chance?”

“She said she was going to your house to oversee the renovations.” Bellamy nodded in thanks. He had completely forgotten that his mother had his house done up, so Madi had a home to come to, when she was released in a couple of days.

With a last thankful smile in Ravens direction, Bellamy headed to his room to change his clothes. He would talk to his family. And Raven was right, they would find a way to keep his princess safe. There was no chance in hell, he would let that rat hurt her.

He had stayed the night at her place. Slept in the same house, used the same shower, ate at her table. Blake had not understood the rules. So if he wanted to play dirty, Finn would too.

I’m just tagging some people because I haven’t updated in forever: @carrieeve @junebugninja @justalittlebluetiefling @bees-for-the-wildmother @captainmmarvel @parapluiepliant @thelittlefanpire @nvermindiseeyou @lunakom-floukru <3<3<3

#bellarke fanfiction #my idiot writings #bellarke #bellarke fan fiction

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irwinkitten · 4 years

Text

men of mayhem | a.i

notes: i had a few people yell at me for part three and this isn’t going to be any nicer. sorry. warnings: mentions of death word count: 3.5k

donate to my ko-fi

part one, part two, part three

Anne-Marie had managed to negotiate a smaller price of the remodelling by mentioning it was for the last member of the Morgan family. The town obviously knew Michelle and knew her ties with the Irwins, but also they understood how devastating this was for her and the community wanted to help.

Whilst they were getting measurements of the house for the redesigning and rebuilding, Michelle had gone to collect her parents and brothers' belongings from their workplaces and school respectively.

Ashton had stayed by her side, unwilling to let her too far out of his sight, but he also knew that doing this alone wasn’t fair on her. She’d taken the words of sympathy easily from her parents' coworkers. She knew them growing up and they understood what she was going through. Ashton had to tell them about the funeral time however—she’d been unable to get the sentence out from her lips—she’d choked on her words but they understood.

When she’d gone to Matty’s school, it was much harder. Seeing the fifth graders look at her with such sadness nearly broke Michelle to tears. Seeing his class sat silently, waiting for her to talk was something which made the situation so real for her.

There were faces she recognised, their own older brothers and sisters having gone to school with both her and Ashton, and she briefly wondered if this was making it worse. In a small town like Charming, you knew everyone or at least their families.

“I wanted to thank all of you, for the cards that you’ve been sending me. I know that Matty was popular, and for a popular kid, he really loved you guys. Every time I came home from University, he had new stories to tell me every summer.” She could feel the first tear fall. The fact that these children were dealt with facing the prospect of their classmate dying so young, it hurt her.

One of the girls—Lana, she remembered—raised her hand.

“Will Matty be happy where he is now? Even though we miss him?” God she wanted to hug all of them, seeing the tearful faces. Even the boys.

Ashton had been lurking in the corner. He’d ditched his club jacket for his plaid shirt and black muscle tee, knowing that the last thing he wanted was terrifying the children. A lot of them had seen him pick Matty up from school, so he knew that some of them had seen him in his full gear. But this time, it was a time for comfort.

He moved from his spot to take a seat next to Michelle, his hand in hers as she took in a slow, steadying breath.

“I know that he’d be missing all of you. But he’s gonna be happy and safe, and when you’re sad and miss him, write a letter. You don’t need to post it, you can just keep it safe. But he’ll see the letter and know you’re thinking of him.” Her voice held a tremble and Ashton squeezed her hand gently.

“You’ve also got to remember it’s okay to cry. Even the boys. Your best mate is gone, and you’re allowed to miss him.” Ashton spoke quietly and he knew that the children were listening.

“It’s really okay to cry?” One of the smaller boys asked quietly and Ashton nodded.

“You guys have probably seen me pick up Matty from school right? When I’ve got all of my biker gear on?” Lots of the children nodded. “And you probably think I’m a real tough guy who doesn’t cry?” More nods. “Let me tell you a secret then. I cry when I need to. If it’s too much for me, I’ll cry.” This earned amazed looks from the children and Michelle gave off a watery chuckle.

“He’s right. When we found out about Matty, he cried that night. If you miss him and you’re sad don’t think you’re not allowed to, okay?” She was met with more nods and the teacher, Alanah, gained her attention gently.

“We got a lot of Matty’s things together for you, but we wanted to ask if we could keep a few pieces of his work?” Michelle wiped a few tears away before nodding her head.

“I’m sure Matty would forgive me for letting you guys have some of his work.” This earned a few giggles from the children and Ashton kissed her cheek.

Lana had gotten up at the nod of Alanah and Michelle’s heart sank as she realised that Lana must've sat next to him and been his partner throughout the school year. She picked up the pile that had been put together nicely, tied with a small ribbon to hold it together.

“We wanted to make sure that it would be safe.” Michelle gave her a gentle smile as she took the package. “Would it be okay to hug you Mrs. Irwin?” She could only nod as Lana wrapped her arms around Michelle’s neck, and she held onto the young girl as tight as she dared.

“He couldn’t have asked for better friends.” Michelle finally got out when Lana had stepped back. The young girl gave her a watery smile in return before going back to her seat just as the bell rang.

“How about you all head out for recess and when you guys come back, we’ll make more cards to take to the funeral. I’ve spoken with your parents and what we’ll be doing is your parents will bring you into school and then we’ll be heading to the church so we can say our goodbyes to Matty.” Alanah explained and the children—despite the solemn mood that had settled—chattered about what they would each put in their own cards as they headed out of the classroom, each of them stopping to give Michelle another hug.

Only Lana was brave enough to hug Ashton as well.

Once the door was closed, Michelle couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, her hand covering her lips as she tearfully gazed down at the package in her lap.

Alanah made her way over.

“The children have all been so good about this. Obviously they don’t know why Matty died, but they know that there was an explosion and that he was in it.” Michelle could only nod.

“What were the pieces of work you wanted to keep?” At this, Alanah smiled.

“A few pieces. You have the original works, but we’ve got it photocopied. The children want every future class to see the work that Matty did. Alanah held her hand out towards Michelle and she took it gratefully, standing up from her seat and allowing the young woman to guide her to the wall where there was a section that she hadn’t paid much attention to when she’d arrived.

The header—in bright colourful letters—read ‘Matty’s corner’. Underneath, she recognised the handwriting immediately. Various headers caught her eyes, moving onto each piece. It seemed that they had not only some of his essays that he wrote, but they kept some drawings he did, scattered between them. And she noticed small notes which told her that they were passed between him and his classmates. She giggled as her fingers traced one of them. When she reached the centre essay, Michelle had to pause, a gasp of air leaving her lips in shock.

‘Why My Sister Is My Hero.’

“I know that he looked up to you a lot, Michelle. When he handed this in, I had him read it out to the class because there were a few older children who made fun of him that you were never around anymore. After that, everyone in the class seemed to take a personal offence to those children making fun of him.” A smile tugged on the corner of her lips.

“Thank you Alanah. And thank you for what you’re arranging with the class for his funeral.”

“He was a good boy. I put the point across to the parents of the class that this was not negotiable. They need to say goodbye to him because he was taken from their lives so very fast. When the parents realised that it meant that they wouldn’t have to take time off their jobs and take that stress away, they agreed it was beneficial for the children.”

When they’d gotten home, it had taken all of three seconds before everything that she’d been holding back came flooding out. To see his entire class, be so accepting but to offer their own ways of comfort and remembrance, it was a lot for her.

The funerals rolled around soon after that and Michelle was reluctant to face anyone. To her knowledge, it had gotten to the Bulldogs of the plan for revenge, and so the club set up the newer members around the building to keep an eye out for any kinds of trouble.

Ashton had coaxed Michelle into eating some toast at least as they got ready. Bert and Anne-Marie had asked where she wanted them and she asked if they would sit behind her. She knew Ashton wouldn’t leave her side and she knew that Calum would take spot on her other side.

They had gone ahead and eventually Michelle pulled herself together, stepped out and met the hearses which held her parents and brother. It would be a procession through the town to the church and she nodded her head.

“We’re just waiting on one one more thing and then we’ll be off.”

She looked to Ashton at the funeral director's words, confusion in her eyes and he could only shrug in return. And then the noise reached them before she saw them. In pairs, the club members drove past the hearses, and she could do nothing but lean into her husband, his arm wrapping around her as she let out a sob, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“It’s what they deserve. They’re family.” He whispered to her as they looped around and came up to the house and she realised that they were escorting them all to the church.

Once they were in the car that would take them, Michelle could only lay her head on his shoulder, tears already falling. She knew that today would be long.

When they reached the church, they were just waiting on her. They’d already explained to her that they would let her brother's coffin rest in hearse for the first part, which would mean that she would have to make this trip twice. But she could only nod and go along with it as she led the procession behind the coffin. Ashton had wanted to be a pallbearer, but she’d all but begged him to stay with her.

And he couldn’t say no to her at all.

Her parents' service was slightly easier. She’d requested their friends to speak their eulogies, to tell everyone else of their achievements. They’d obliged easily and taken that weight off her shoulders.

Once more she returned to the front of the church, but this one was harder for her to witness as she welcomed his classmates into the church.

Her parents' coffins were already going to head towards the graveyard where they would have to wait for Matty’s service to be finished.

She’d quietly requested Lana to sit with her, now knowing that the girl had been his best friend. She was almost certain that in another life, they would have emulated her and Ashton had he gotten to live past his eleventh year. But life was cruel.

Lana had accepted the request and hugged both Michelle and Ashton tightly as they waited for the pallbearers.

It looked so wrong, seeing the pure white coffin being carried in by four people. Lana’s hand gripped hers tightly stepping closer to Michelle as they carried the coffin past the trio.

She carefully guided Lana behind the coffin, briefly wondering if she had any more tears left to cry. She had a brief moment of amusement as Lana stared at Calum for a solid moment before taking the spot next to him and holding out her hand.

“Did you love him too?” The question very nearly set Michelle off as Lana asked Calum. He gave her a sad smile, nodding his head as he took her hand and squeezed it.

“I did. His sister is like my sister, so he turned into my brother too.” Calum explained it softly as they waited for everything to get set up. Lana nodded once, her doe like gaze returning to Calum after she’d glanced to the coffin.

“I’m sorry you lost him too.” Ashton had a tissue for Michelle as more tears fell, answering her silent question if she had any more tears to cry.

That answer was yes.

Lana very bravely stood up to the congregation, not only of her classmates, but complete strangers. She told them all how he was her best friend. How they traded flowers and cards every year. They’d made it a tradition when they both had gotten nothing the first year of school. That was when their friendship had been born.

When she returned to her spot, Michelle wrapped the young, tearful girl in a tight hug.

“He’d be so proud of you Lana.” She whispered. The young girl could only nod as she stayed like that, her hand searching out for Calum’s. Part of her mind wanted to tease her best friend, to crack a joke. But she knew she couldn’t. Everything hurt too much to even try.

At Michelle’s request, she’d asked his classmates to come with to see him being put to rest. She wanted all of their cards to go with him. And Alanah had obliged easily. Lana had been reluctant to leave Michelle’s side and with Alanah’s permission, the young girl went with the couple.

Ashton went ahead to the car with Lana whilst she stood with Calum for a moment, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Someone’s got a crush.” She finally muttered, a few laughs escaping before they turned into sobs. Calum held her tightly as she let it out, unable to even try to hold herself together. She knew there was no judgement from anywhere because the last thing anyone would want would be to bury the last of their family members.

“I’d take an adorable eleven year old crushing over me than some of the older women making moon eyes at me.” He muttered and it caused an almost hysterical giggle to fall from her lips as she managed to calm herself down enough to make her way to the car.

Once more they had the bike escort to the cemetery and Lana watched amazed from the car as they drove there.

The last part of watching her family get lowered seemed to be her breaking point. Michelle leaned heavily on Ashton once the children had all placed their cards on Matty’s coffin and he’d been lowered into the ground.

Lana had hugged them both and had bravely hugged Calum as well before she returned to school with the class.

All too soon, it was just her and Ashton with the remaining club members scattered. She remembered that Bert was going to make apologies on her behalf so that she wouldn’t have to go to the wake. And part of her was eternally grateful to them as she allowed Ashton to guide her back to the car that was waiting.

By the time that they’d gotten home, she was half asleep and it wasn’t much longer until she was passed out in her husband's arms, exhausted and drained.

The following week she’d been walking around in a daze until Bert had sat down with her. They’d been waiting for the contractors to start building and she knew that it was most likely not going to be ready before she left for her final year of university, but she’d accepted that with ease.

“I’m going to hand over the reins to Ashton tonight. I want you to be there.” Bert’s words had pulled her from her stupor and after a moment, she smiled at Bert.

“Finally cashing in on the retirement fund, old timer?” She knew it was a weak joke, but the grin she got in return said much more. They knew she’d get better, but she just needed time.

“Since most of us old folks don’t get that retirement fund, absolutely. When can I expect grandchildren?” That had made her laugh, the giggle sharp and almost filled with relief. It’d been the first time she’d laughed since the funeral.

“Both you and momma are after grandbabies. Be patient! They’ll happen when they happen. Now, I’m not dressing up for this shindig tonight, but I swear to god Bert if you’re pulling in the other patchovers-”

He knew the threat was empty but he laughed anyway.

“No, it’s just us. He’s ready. We all are.”

And she couldn’t argue that at all.

Watching him receive the President patch, it was a moment of pride that made her heart swell as he selected Calum as his VP. Chibs didn’t argue this as he handed his own patch over. They’d already assumed that Ashton was going to have the mantle passed on, but Chibs also knew this wasn’t retirement for him like it was for Bert.

“If you all think that just because Bert here is enjoying the rest of his life with his lovely lady, that I’m gonna do the same, you’re in for rude surprises. Mostly caps to the asses and maybe a bottle over the head.” Michelle let loose a laugh with the others, and she knew that the sadness wouldn’t hurt over time.

And being able to laugh with her family felt wonderful.

Ashton had toasted to her for his successes, making the other club members laugh when she flipped him off in return.

“Does this mean I get a shot?” Calum teased and Michelle had snorted before taking a swig of beer.

“The only shot you’re getting is something for any disease you might carry.” She fired back, and the mock look of hurt crossed his face despite the flush of his cheeks.

“You wound my heart and my ego, my lady.”

“Not your lady.” She pointed out and he grinned as he raised his beer in salute and surrendered. Ashton had laughed before slinging his arm over his best friends shoulders.

“Trust me mate, she keeps me out of enough trouble as it is. I reckon if she had to deal with you, you’d send her grey a lot quicker.” This had earned more laughter and Michelle looked thoughtful at that before nodding her agreement, to the laughter of the club members and embarrassment of Calum.

Even with all the plots of revenge and the plans to get payback on her behalf, Michelle took that moment to appreciate that they had her back no matter what the others said or complained about. She’d grown up with these misfits and she knew she’d be keeping her promise to make sure that they kept out of the system now that Ashton was taking over.

It was that feeling of family that stayed with her as she said her goodbyes a few months later. It was time for her to return to university and work, as much as she was hesitant to do so. Ashton had already promised to visit her the following weekend and it was something small that brought a gentle smile to her lips as she kissed him softly.

The boys had clubbed together and gotten her her own car. It wasn’t much, but it was a nifty little thing that would get her there and back safely. It didn’t stop the fact that Ashton had pleaded with her to let a couple of them be back up just in case.

“Luke and Micheal. I would say Bobby, but he’d complain.” The tease was loud enough for the older man to roll his eyes, giving her the two finger salute. Michelle laughed in return.

“Chibs.” Ashton finally spoke up and she sighed before turning to Chibs who knew what was coming. The look on his face was apologetic at least, or so she thought.

“I was already prepared for it. He’d warned me a couple of days ago.” This earned Ashton a stern look and he held his hands up in surrender.

“Until they’re either behind bars or dead, it’s going to worry me. Just, humour me till you’re back home for good.” And she could see his genuine worry and concern, his eyes searching her face.

“Fine. But you owe me next weekend for it.” Ashton grinned at that as he dipped his head to kiss her softly.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, doll.” His words were for her and her alone, but the wolf whistles still came, making her giggle.

“Alright ya big lugs, time for me to get going or I’m never going to leave.” She finally called and Ashton followed her out. It was with another kiss that she finally pulled away from Ashton and climbed into the car, waving as she and her escorts made their way back to the big city.

She knew that when she returned, she was going to come back fighting.

taglist: @sexgodashton, @goth5sos, @malumsmermaid, @empathycth, @wildflowergrae, @calpops, @rosecolouredash, @cakesunflower, @loveroflrh, @clockwork124, @cal-puddies, @stellar5sosrecs, @ashtoniwir, @cthwldflwr, @cthla, @calmlftv, @spicycal, @liketheydidwithyou, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer, @bluehairedtracii, @drummerboy794, @feliznavidaddycal, @ukulelecal, @thecurlsofgod, @converse-luke, @madbomb, @ccnicole02, @youngblood199456, @megz1985, @lukesidentitycrisis, @snapback-irwie, @neonweeknds, @666yourwitchyfriend666, @clffrd, @cashtonasfuck, @ashtaway, @conquerwhatliesahead92, @itjustkindahappenedreally, @kchillout, @damselindistressanu, @colormekaykay, @findingliam-o, @sublimehood, @singledadharrington, @sugarcoated-pain, @singt0mecalum, @calumspeachy, @colourfulcalum, @lostincalum, @burncrashbromance, @asht0ns-world, @flusteredcliffo, @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave, @fangirl-everythang, @lashtonswildflower, @lashtondaddies, @calumssunshine, @ambskiwi, @abundant-stars, @myescapefromthislife, @lmao5sosimagines, @beyoncesdragon, @jae-writes-fanfiction, @cxddlyash, @tresfandom, @niallisworld, @lietomevalntyn, @babylon-corgis, @monochrome44, @behind-my-hazeleyes27, @ghost0fy0u, @lyllibug, @bloodmoonashton, @ghostofmashton, @summerellaz, @a-little-less-sixteen, @cashworthy, @smokeinherlungs, @longlastingdaydream, @h0tsos, @sadistmichael, @sugar-nico, @sunnysidesblog, @angel-cal, @samros95, @maluminspace, @lukeinblue, @britnicole11, @gigglyirwin, @everyscarisahealingplace, @loverofcashton, @iovehemmings, @g-l-pierce, @jannimoeller3, @wildmichaelflower, @lukeskisses, @youngbloodchild, @abb-lan-5sos, @calumsbub, @flameraine, @here-for-the-uproars, @mateisit-balsamic, @ilovelukey, @castaway-cashton, @musiclover1263, @alloutofcashton, @tobefalling, @sarahshepherdblog, @cassie-sos, @possesedperson, @treatallwithkindness, @thesubtweeter, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles, @ashtonlrwin,

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

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How about a continuation of the MafiaAU where most people just see Steve as Billy's arm candy, his weakness but he is really the more ruthless of the two or the power behind the throne? Like Steve has been learning the business his whole life and takes advantage of the way people talk more freely around him because they see him as too dumb to understand. Billy gets it though and loves his pretty little viper.

So in my little brain, the mafia au was modern, but I don’t think i ever specified that, so yee.

More murder boyfriends, some fucking, this is also totally based on that quote from My Big Fat Greek Wedding where the mom says something like “The man may be the head, but the woman is the neck and can turn him any which way she likes.”

They also fully use torture (of another person) as foreplay.

Under the cut.

Read on ao3

When Billy and Steve got married, they merged their power completely.

Billy was the de facto head of their new combined assets, the cities the Harringtons had control of, as well as the front businesses, and of course, the Chicago branch that Billy owned.

Billy gave Steve many wedding presents, would shower him with clothes and trinkets, ornate knives and guns. But he surprised him, on their wedding knight with one perfect one.

“Bill, you shouldn’t have.”

Steve’s father was bound and gagged, tied to a chair in a warehouse on the edge of the city, close to the docks of Lake Michigan, ready for the body to be dumped.

“Wanted to get you something special, Kitten.” Billy was running his fingers along his tools, the knives and saws he used for his art. Steve was pressed against his back, peppering kisses to his neck, eyes dark and trained on his father. “You wanna help, or just wanna watch.”

“I think I’ll watch, for now. Wouldn’t mind finishing him off, though.” Billy turned around, connecting their mouths, one hand roughly holding the back of Steve’s head, the other holding a sharp knife.

They spent the whole night in the warehouse, Billy carving patterns into Mr. Harrington’s flesh, Steve whispering to him all the reasons he deserved it, the way he peddled his own son to make his connections, how the Harrington name was built on Steve’s body.

It was a slow death, Steve only dealt the final blow as the sun was threatening to rise. They walked to the car, bloody hands intertwined as they let their men deal with the body, dispose of the evidence.

The next day was spent making love, slowly, passionately, as their own free agents, neither of them having to answer to anyone, wanting to answer to each other.

When Steve’s father was the head of the Harrington estate, he would often talk loudly and freely about how disappointing his son is. He would call him an idiot, a good for nothing child. Would say the only thing he was good for was being bent over. Would send him city to city to let potential allies do just that. He would give him to his henchmen, the cronies he sent out on runs and jobs, would let them have him for a night as a treat.

But Steve let this happen.

He wanted everyone to think he was dumb, because that was his access. People did a lot of talking around him, always figured he didn’t understand the codes they used. He would steal documents off of desks when the man who owned it would be too busy to notice him slip it into his discarded pants. He knew everything about everyone, and Billy Hargrove was the first person to see that.

After their marriage, after the Harrington-Hargrove mob was created, was built, Billy was only more feared.

He had extreme power, and has used dirty tricks to get it. But Steve, not many people gave a second thought to Steve. He was the beautiful arm candy. Always had been, so why wouldn’t that be his role here?

Many thought Billy had only married him to gain the Harrington power, some decided Steve was being held against his will. Some figured it was all a front, an arrangement for Billy to get more power, and they wanted little to do with one another.

The people who said that, almost always wound up dead.

Steve would be an integral part to every meeting Billy had. He would come in, would perch on the arm of Billy’s chair, and would say very little. He would give tittering laughs and throw love-struck looks to Billy.

But when everyone cleared out, he would give Billy everything he knew.

Steve was always in tune with any gossip. He knew people, and never forgot a face. He would tell Billy which men were trustworthy, who was waiting to double cross them. He would point out who had hit on him, and who he had to let fuck him before they were partnered.

Billy always took Steve with him when he was eliminating these men. He wanted them to know exactly who had condemned them, told them they had underestimated Steve in a big way, always let Steve take the kill shot.

Billy is seen to have all the power, but Steve calls the shots, standing behind him, whispering in his ear.

Billy was the first to know about the Bonanno family’s plans to kill Billy. Had heard a few Bonanno lap dogs talking about it as he made his way to Billy’s office, had heard them say Hargrove won’t fuckin’ know what hit him and once he’s out of the way, I’m takin’ that pretty little piece of ass for myself.

He had fluttered his eyelashes as he passe, offered them a simpering good morning and entered Billy’s office.

He leaned down to Billy, pretended to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Four attack dogs, waiting for signal to ambush.” He groped for the gun Billy kept under his jacket the silencer screwed on tight. He whipped around and shot the head of the Bonanno family, one bullet, right between the eyes.

“Good shot, Princess.” Billy admired his handiwork, always so proud. He directed his own lap dogs to take care of the four in the hallway. They were brought into the office, hands cuffed behind their backs, guns pressed to their temples.

“Heard them say when their boss came out, they were gonna run in here, gonna take you out. Steve stood in front of one, let his fingers drift over his jaw. “This one said he was gonna take me for himself.” He kneeled in front of him, one hand gripped roughly in his hair. “Go ahead, tell my husband what you said. I’m sure he wants to know.”

The man’s eyes were panicked, shifting between Steve’s sweet smile and Billy, leaning against the desk, gun held lazily in his hand.

“Please, share what exactly you said.” Billy’s grin was viscous.

“I, uh, said I’d take him for, for myself.” Steve tutted.

“Pretty sure there was more you said.” Steve stood back up, moving to Billy, giving him his best doe eyes. “He said I was a pretty little piece of ass. Said I’m probably real tight. Said he’d love to,” he took a breath, one finger curling in Billy’s belt loop. “Force himself in.”

Billy shot the first man, one bullet straight in the face. He was seething. No one was allowed to talk about his baby like that. He shot the next two, leaving the one that had spoken of last, nodding at his guards to take the rest of the bodies out of here, to throw him on the chair across for Billy’s desk.

“So, what do you think gives you the right to say those things about my husband.” He brought out a flat box, the velvet insides holding his blades, the sharp silver ones Steve had given him as a wedding gift. “You plan to kill me, and to rape my sweet baby.” He tutted. The man in the chair was sweating, his eyes wide. Billy held the box out, standing to the side. “Kitten, I think you should have the honors.”

Steve had watched Billy work a hundred times. He knew where to cut, which tendons to sever to cause the most pain. He was as artful as Billy, less practiced, but still sure.

He didn’t make too many cuts, didn’t want the man to bleed out. He situated himself on the desk, in plain view of the man and his own husband.

“I think we should give him a little show. What do you think, Darling?” He was looking at Billy through his lashes. “Let him see what he’ll be missing out on.” He took off his jacket, undoing the buttons on his shirt slowly, revealing soft, pale skin.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Kitten.” Billy stepped in to undress Steve the rest of the way, using their belts to strap the man down to the chair, making sure he couldn’t escape while they were wrapped up in one another.

Steve stared at him darkly, really made a show of fingering himself, opening himself up for Billy. The man obviously didn’t know where to look, wanted to watch the three fingers disappearing into that dusky pink entrance.

“You’re allowed to watch. We’re putting on a show, just for you.” Steve purred out, standing to turn around, bend over the desk, whole exposed, wet with lube and stretched out.

Billy shifted him around, spread him out on his back, legs spread open, giving the man a side view of their fucking.

Billy didn’t hold back, was rough with Steve, yanked his hair and bit at him, leaving marks in the spaces between fading ones.

Steve was arching, his noises high-pitched, breathy, loud. He kept his eyes open, trained on the man beside them, as if to say this could’ve been you.

He came quickly, bent up and hard from the events of the day, the way they were being watched. He begged Billy to touch him, to let him cum. Billy obliged, as he always would, stroking him fast and hard, fucking him through it as his back drew tight, as he screamed, as he shot off all over himself.

Billy forced him to his knees, finishing all over Steve’s face. Steve stayed there, breathing heavily and naked, face covered in thick white cum, blinking slowly at the man, licking his lips.

Billy retrieved his gun and the man could feel it against his temple.

“Next time, don’t forget who the real boss is.”

Steve grinned as the shot rang out.

#don't know WHERE this came from #honestly im kinda shook #i need to turn inward and like #study mysefl a lil #yikes write #harringrove #mafia au #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

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voidingintotheshout · 4 years

Text

December 2nd: Two Sizes Too Small

“Gavin’s annual 12.12 Halloween party is starting in a half an hour babe, you just have to accept that you’re just not going to be able to fit into your Christmas suit this year.” Every year for Gavin’s annual party that was on December 12 every year, regardless of where that date fell on the calendar, Trevor would wear a pinkish-red suit with understated pastel green accents that always served to highlight all of the time he had spent at the gym. Unfortunately, over the last year Trevor had been spending more time at the dinner table, So that suit was far from fitting.

Jack felt a sense of pride and ownership over Trevor’s filled-out physique as his husband struggled to get his slim fit suit pants over his tree trunk thighs and seemingly ignoring the fact that even if he could get his pants up past his thighs, they were never going to be able to contain his thick, round ass. “I just don’t get it. It shouldn’t be this small. Are you sure you didn’t do something to it?”

Jack burst out laughing. “The only thing I did to that suit was feed you seconds at dinner every night. You have never looked hotter babe, but you need to accept that you have just gotten a little too round to be able to fit into that suit this year. You’re just gonna have to go in something else. Why don’t you wear those reddish orange pants you got a couple of weeks ago with your green polo shirt and you can throw on a red ascot, the one that you wore for your Valentine’s Day Cupid costume? The wild west themed one?”

“God, why don’t I just wear a red sweatshirt and green sweat pants. Maybe they’ll still fit.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. That other outfit I suggested will totally fit. Well, at least I don’t think you’ve gotten too fat for that ascot.”

Trevor laughed so bright & free that his laughter lit up the room. “Oh my God babe, would you stop?!?” Trevor said, throwing his hands in the air and frustration at his needling husband. In doing, so he was expecting the pants to fall down around his ankles but they were wedged tight on his thick frame.

“It’s time to give up on that suit. We need to leave for the party soon and we’re definitely going, because we’re bringing a dish.” Jack looked at his chunky, manly husband, belly spilling out of a shirt that had no hope of being able to fit. He was only able to get the buttons around his pectorals button and even then, the fabric was stretching quite a bit, below his sternum, the buttons weren’t able to come within two or 3 inches of each other and his jacket look like it would never be able to even get past his lovehandles, let alone be able to button. He had already complained last year when he had bulked up and gained a lot of muscle that the very thinly cut suit jacket was already starting to really constrict. That along with all the weight he put on this year, there was no way that jacket was going to get across his middle.

Jack saw his husband huff and puff ever so slightly as he struggled to get the suit off as quickly as possible. He sat there, in only a somewhat tight pair of underwear as Jack heard the timer in the kitchen ding, announcing their dish was ready. Brownies, à la mode. he looked guiltily at the kitchen and then back at his husband. “It’s OK.” Trevor said, sitting on the bed, slumped forward ever so slightly, hands on his stomach. I did promise to try one of your Brownies, à la mode before the party. I’m honestly looking forward to it. That suit is in the past. We can get another one that’s in my size for next year.”

You mean it?!? It’s okay?“

“Yeah.” He got up off the bed instructed towards Jack, eyes smoky with desire. “I was a big sexy man before when I had muscles and abs and I’m a big sexy man now with my extra size and curves. I know I’m sexy, you always make me feel that way. It’s just clothes. Now I’m going to get dressed while you take care of the food. That way, you can get dressed while you’re watching me eat my sundae.”

“Oh my God! I totally forgot to get myself ready! I don’t have anything as nice as what you’re wearing.” Jack seemed to remember some thing and rummaged around the back of the closet “I was going to give this to you soon, but I think now is a better time. I got you some underwear in the next size up so you’ll have a little bit more room under what you’re wearing. I hope you’re not mad.”

“I’m guessing you were waiting until I figured out that I’ve been fattened up?”

“Fattened up? I don’t know what you—”

“Come on. All the fattening food? Always bringing me snacks and desserts? I figured out what you were doing, but I liked being pampered and I found that I didn’t mind putting on weight… but being reminded of how much weight I’ve put on, can be tough sometimes. Besides, I already have the perfect thing for you to wear at the party. Nobody will be able to keep their eyes off of you. You’re going to be the talk of the party.”

Jack’s eyes grew wide as he looked at his sexy, thick husband, grateful that their daughter was with relatives so they could just focus on getting ready. “Am I going to regret agreeing to this?”

“I hope you don’t regret it any more than I’m going to regret asking for a double portion of that sundae before we even leave for a party that is going to be buried in food.”

“I see a belly rub in your future.“

“You better. Because I see a belly in my future.”

“Future? I see a belly in your present!” Jack said, and motioning to Trevor’s midsection.

“Bitch! How dare you imply that I am getting fat, now hurry up and get me that serving- platter- sized portion of dessert that I can wolf down before I spend the next three hours eating. The nerve.” Trevor muttered in mock-outrage as he grabbed his clothes for the party, including the larger size underwear which he smiled slightly at the thoughtfulness of, as Jack made his way to the kitchen to get the food out of the oven before it became too dry, as well as the other things he needed to get ready for the party.

He pulled the two trays of brownies out of the oven. They were Ghirardelli’s Triple Chocolate brownies. He had to quadruple the recipe so that there were enough brownies for Trevor and the guests at the party. He let’s letting one tray cool on the oven with some tin foil loosely placed on top and from the other one, he cut a block of brownie the size of a paperback and grabbed one of the two gallon containers of vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer and put two generous scoops of vanilla ice cream on top. He then grabbed one of the two containers of hot fudge, microwaved it for about 20 seconds just to soften it and drizzled it all over the top. He smelled it and it smelled delicious.

He then turned to get ready. He put the unopened ice cream, hot fudge, walnuts, and the six-pack of their favorite beer into one of the bags and he left the uncut tray of brownies to cool on the stove. He took the tray of brownies that had the giant block cut out of it and wrapped it in tinfoil and put it in the fridge, making a note to encourage Trevor to eat more leftovers between meals to make some room. “I’m ready honey! I’m dressed! You need to get ready. We have to leave in five minutes. Even if we are fashionably late we still need to leave in 10 minutes and you’re not even dressed yet.”

“Coming!”

“Not till after the party. We’re running late.”

“Funny.” Jack grabbed Trevor’s pre-dinner dessert, needing to double back halfway out of the kitchen to get a fork with which he would eat it. There was a time in the future where it might get sexy to see Trevor eating with his hands because he was just so hungry but that day was not today. Jack brought the desert into the bedroom in there, on the bed next to his beautiful husband outfitted in a gorgeous suit, complete with the red ascot with Valentine’s Day hearts on it— was Trevor’s Christmas Suit. “What—what is this? You always wear this.”

Well, I’m glad to see that I’m still just as good an actor now as I was all those years ago back in college. I took one look at that suit two weeks ago and when I realized there was no way I was ever going to be able to fit my fat ass into that, but then I realized that you’ve been working out a lot and you now have the muscles to be able to wear that thing. While you were in the kitchen taking care of the food, I did a quick and dirty cuffing of the pants, to make up for the fact that you’re a couple of inches shorter than I am so the whole thing should fit you really well.”

“But it was always too small for me. I was never as toned as you.” Jack said, as the reality of their new situation dawned on him.

“It was, but you have been working out consistently over the last year as I have been, well, pigging out on your food. You are now the lean, trim one in the relationship and I’m becoming the fat one. I have so many amazing clothes in that closet that are made for someone with your exact physique and I don’t want them to just sit in the closet collecting dust until I eventually I donate them. I’ll feel a lot less bad about all of this weight that I’m probably going to be putting on over the next year if I know that someone is at least enjoying all of those amazing clothes that I’ve collected over the years. I want you to wear my Christmas suit this year and, probably next year because, if I can’t be the one everyone is staring at because I’m the hottest guy at the party, then I want everyone to be staring at me because of how lucky I am to have that hot piece of arm candy next to me. Now give me that damn dessert so I can eat it while watching you slip into that sexy suit.”

Jack watched as Trevor dived into the desert with gusto, a small way of saying that Jack should do the same and so Jack, fearlessly shucked his clothes and gingerly put himself into the Christmas suit which, did fit slightly differently, being more snug in some places and looser in others but it was a custom tailored suit with Trevor’s exact measurements in mind, but when Jack got dressed and looked at himself in the mirror, he was surprised that he didn’t see that chunky dude he remembered in the mirror. He saw a hot guy looking back at him.

He heard a fork clatter on a now empty plate and he glanced behind him to see his chunky husband using a finger to lick up the last of the chocolate sauce as he got up off the bed the stand near him at the mirror. “You’ve got to remember babe. I fell for you in that bar all of those years ago because I thought you were cute, the jelly roll around your waist didn’t matter any more than the jelly roll around my waist matters now. We love each other for who we are. I’m proud to have you be the one getting all of the stares and hungry looks because it makes me feel really good to have such an awesome and hot dude coming home to me every night. Think you’re you ready to go to this party? I just got a message that the Uber’s going to be here in two minutes.”

“I’m definitely ready. I’ll get the food, you get the doors?”

Good plan, I can’t eat doors on the way to the party.”

“Unless they’re made of gingerbread.”

“If only!” Trevor replied, laughing as they made their way into the kitchen to leave for the party.

#25daysofchubmas #original fiction #gainer fiction #chubmas #trevor and jack

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vernonfielding · 5 years

Text

No pain no gain

Missing scene fic from Jimmy Jabs 2! This is shameless hurt/comfort (and some mild Jake/Amy Being Serious). Thank you to the lovely and super smart @fezzle and @feeisamarshmallow for the fantastic beta!! Title is more Bash Brothers (from Let’s Bash).

Read on AO3.

First, Amy runs up to Jake and throws her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly, right in front of the entire squad and the staff and the civilians mingling all around the bullpen. She kisses him until he’s breathless and she can feel the too-fast flutter of his pulse in his neck (which could be from the kiss or the adrenaline, impossible to know).

Second, Amy pulls back and grabs his hand and drags him up, arm circling his waist when he stumbles a little. She takes him straight down the garage, to their sensible and very boring Champagne-colored sedan, and drives him to the closest emergency room.

It’s busy for a weekday afternoon. Every seat is taken, mostly by people coughing behind surgical masks or clutching barf bags and sweating in a way that makes Amy’s own stomach turn a little. A woman in a chair just behind them is pressing a bloody towel into the palm of one hand. A little boy two chairs over has an icepack pressed to his nose and blood all over his white T-shirt.

The nurse at the registration desk glances up as Amy approaches with Jake. The nurse’s eyes flit down to the NYPD logo on their matching shirts and she says, “Injured in the line of duty?”

She’s holding a pen in one hand, poised over a clipboard, and Amy knows her answer now will determine the rest of their day: If Jake was hurt on duty they get a free pass back to the ER. If she says Jake was competing in the Nine-Nine’s version of American Gladiators-

“Yes,” Amy says. “My husband was on duty. He fell.” It’s not really a lie.

The nurse hits a buzzer, and five minutes later Jake’s in a bed, plastic wristband on one arm and blood pressure cuff on the other. The adrenaline’s fully kicked in and he’s gone all pale and sweaty, his blood pressure is alarmingly high, and he can’t stop fidgeting when the nurse tries to put an oximeter clip on one finger. Amy feels a twist of guilt in her gut and chews on a thumbnail.

+++

Amy loves Jake. Full stop. No reservations, no conditions, no exceptions. She loves every part of him -- his kind and generous heart, his ridiculous curls and goofball grin, his exceptional detective brain and his remarkably robust digestive system (given his eating habits). She loves his recent addiction to corn nuts, and she loves that his new favorite beverage is boba tea from the shop around the corner from their apartment. She loves that he didn’t learn the months of the year until he was 12 and that he activates his animatronic fish at least once a week, just to make sure it’s still “alive.”

She loves that he’s going to be the father of her child. She knows he’ll be incredible -- she feels it in her heart and her bones and her blood and and her brain and all the spaces in between.

(And she still really, really loves his butt.)

But damnit if the man isn’t absolutely infuriating sometimes.

“So, what happened here?” says the doctor, pushing aside the curtain at the foot of Jake’s bed. The doctor is very tall and her hair is pulled into a tight braid that falls halfway down her back. Amy’s glad she prepared for this moment.

“My husband fell out of a ceiling,” she says, throwing just the right amount of sheepishness into her tone. “Also, I used an EpiPen on him.”

The thing is, this is almost too easy, striking the right balance between telling the truth and fudging the embarrassing details in these situations. Amy smiles pleasantly at the doctor when she raises a questioning eyebrow.

“What is he allergic to?” the doctor says, looking between Amy and Jake.

“Bees,” Amy says, “but he wasn’t stung. I had to give him the adrenaline so he could break down a door.”

“I see,” the doctor says, though clearly she doesn’t. But she refrains from asking follow-up questions, which is all that matters. “You know that’s not really how EpiPens work.”

Amy does not tell the doctor that, in fact, the EpiPen worked exactly as they’d hoped. Instead she shrugs and says, “We didn’t have a lot of other options.”

“Well.” The doctor frowns and looks Jake up and down, and makes a note on the tablet she’s carried in with her. “Let’s take a look.”

The nurse who got him settled took off Jake’s sweatshirt, but he’s otherwise still in his tactical uniform, boots and all. Amy notices there’s a bruise blossoming along his jawline and another high up on his forehead. It’s amazing that he didn’t get any cuts or badly broken bones when he fell, but she suspects his ribs are bruised, at least. She hopes it’s nothing more serious, and she recalls one morning years ago, when he came to work the day after hurting himself so badly after chasing a perp through traffic and falling through the open sunroof of a car. He’d insisted to everyone that he was fine, when he clearly wasn’t; at the time, Amy had brushed it off as typical Jake: brash, impulsive, foolish and still weirdly endearing.

She would have said earlier today that Jake wasn’t like that anymore -- that he wouldn’t participate in the Jimmy Jabs, of all things, if he was truly injured. But after everything that he’s said and done today, she’s not sure that’s the case. And anyway, she was pushing him, telling him they couldn’t lose their ridiculous (boring) car to a ridiculous bet in a ridiculous game.

Jake hisses when the doctor bends over and prods gently at his left side. She lifts his T-shirt and Amy winces at the mottled blue and purple bruising. His shoulder is similarly bruised, and swollen, and Jake can’t reach his arm up over his head when the doctor asks.

“I’d like to get some X-rays,” the doctor says. “How’s your head?”

“Hurts,” Jake says. He’s gritting his teeth and has wrapped an arm around his middle.

“Did you hit it in the fall?” the doctor says, taking a penlight out of her coat pocket.

“I don’t think so,” Jake says. The doctor shines the light in his eyes and Jake frowns but endures it. She asks his name, if he knows where he is and what year it is -- all the usual stuff.

“The headache is probably from the EpiPen,” the doctor says. “But we’ll keep an eye on it.”

+++

The doctor leaves and a nurse returns with a gown and offers to help Jake change. Amy says she’s got it.

“You’re a mess,” she says, quietly, as she takes off his shoes.

She helps him strip off his pants and they both pause to look over the bruised bumps on his legs. A particularly angry-looking lump the size of a baseball is forming on his right thigh, and when Amy brushes the spot with a finger the skin feels hot. Her eyes fill with tears and she blinks and looks away, tugging the pants off his feet when they get stuck.

“I’m sorry,” Jake says, so soft she hardly catches it.

Amy sighs and helps him sit up. She peels off the blood pressure cuff, and slides his T-shirt as carefully as she can over his stiff arms, up and over his head. She unfolds the gown the nurse left them and helps him pull it on, then takes a seat on the bed, at his hip.

“I’m not mad at you for getting hurt,” she says.

“I know I was being reckless-”

“Jake, last month you climbed onto an overturned wastebasket on top of a skateboard so you could hang the new curtains in our bedroom,” Amy says. “And you know what my first thought was, when I saw you up there like two seconds from falling through the window?”

“That you married a moron?” Jake says glumly.

“No -- I thought you were right, that the teal stripes match our bedspread really well,” Amy says. “Don’t get me wrong, I also wondered why you hadn’t just climbed on a chair like a normal person. But I wasn’t mad about it, and I’m not mad about this now.”

Jake looks so relieved, his face going soft and smiley, that she almost feels bad when she takes his hand in hers and adds, “But I’m still pretty pissed that you bet the car. Our car.”

+++

Amy hated Jake for the first two weeks after she started at the Nine-Nine. After everything she’d been through at the Six-Four, Jake came across as just another fucking bro-cop, with his dumb, disarming smile and flirting with witnesses and constant boasting about his detective skillz-with-a-Z. He never crossed any lines with her, but she didn’t peg him as an ally, either.

Then he’d said something, something that should have been totally ordinary but wasn’t.

A man in a suit had walked up to Jake’s desk in the middle of a quiet afternoon, just Jake and Amy and Rosa in the bullpen, and he’d said, “What’s up with all the chicks working here, dude?”

Jake, who’d been leaning far back in his chair, feet up on his desk, eating a microwave burrito for lunch, had said without pause, “Dude, they’re women, and they’re detectives. Now go away.”

They’d never found out if the man was a witness or a lawyer or there to report a crime -- he’d just stared at Jake for a moment, cheeks turned bright red, and walked right out. After that, everything sort of tilted a few degrees for Amy. Jake was still immature and boorish and flaky, but he also became someone she thought she could trust.

In the emergency room, Jake’s palm in her hand is clammy, and when she presses her thumb into his wrist she can feel his pulse still racing from the adrenaline shot, but maybe also because she’s made him anxious.

“I know, the bet was dumb,” Jake says, but Amy can tell by the edge of exasperation in his tone that he’s thinking they’ve been through this already and he thought they were good.

“Yeah, but you know what really pissed me off?” Amy says. “Hitchcock.”

“Hitchcock? You’re mad about Hitchcock?” Jake says. “But he’s always an ass.”

Amy sighs and pulls Jake’s hand into her lap. “I know, but this time you were kind of an ass too, babe. He was so dismissive toward me, and whatever, it’s Hitchcock. But you went right along with it, and that hurt. It really sucked.”

She can feel Jake’s gaze on her face, and Amy looks up to find him wide-eyed and appalled. She debated all day whether she should say something about how that had felt, because honestly, Jake is good. She doesn’t believe he needs to be reminded that women -- and especially his own wife -- should be treated with respect. But at the same time, she thinks he’d be pissed if he knew she was annoyed and not telling him.

It’s obvious that this particular hit has landed. He looks away from Amy and bites his lower lip, and she knows he’s feeling devastated. Literally nothing wounds Jake more than knowing he’s hurt or let down someone he cares about.

“Jake-”

“I am so sorry, Ames,” he says, eyes locked on the hand that Amy isn’t holding. “God, I’m such a jerk.”

“You’re not,” Amy says, and when Jake shakes his head, she adds, “I mean, okay, you were jerk-ish. But look, you were freaking out a little and not thinking clearly and it probably didn’t even occur to you how rude that whole conversation was.”

“That just makes it worse!” Jake says.

Amy frowns to herself, because- yeah, it kind of does. “Fine. You were a jerk.”

“And then you had to spend the whole day helping me win,” Jake says, “when you totally could’ve won the whole thing.”

“Well, obviously,” Amy says. “It should be noted that I had fun today, babe. I don’t get to goof around like that as much as I used to, and you know how much I love a competition.

“It’s just- I would have preferred to skip the Jimmy Jabs entirely and go to my seminar.”

Jake winces. “Yeah, I’m the worst.”

Amy laughs at that, because it’s so far from the truth. “Jake, I love you, so much. But you’re not perfect. You’re allowed to make mistakes, even kind of shitty ones.”

“Ames-”

“Also,” she says, talking over him, “I stabbed you with an EpiPen so you could win the world’s dumbest obstacle race. I think that makes us even.”

Which is exactly when their nurse reappears.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” she says, and helps Jake into a wheelchair to take him for X-rays.

+++

Nothing is broken, and Jake’s head is fine.

The doctor makes them wait around awhile anyway, and after five hours in the ER the adrenaline is finally wearing off and the pain pills are kicking in and Jake is dozing. Amy sits in a chair one of the orderlies brought in, filling out crosswords, and secretly she’s loving all of the uninterrupted downtime.

It’s long past dark by the time they’re free. Jake shuffles to the car and it’s obvious he’s still in a lot of pain despite the Norco. He grunts as he falls into the passenger seat and Amy helps him with the seatbelt when he struggles to reach across his own chest.

Amy sends him straight to bed, and while the soup is heating up she texts Terry that Jake won’t be in the next day. She thinks he’ll be okay at home alone, but wonders if she should use a sick day too. Except they really should be saving those up now.

Jake’s passed out again when she carries dinner to the bedroom. She sets the bowl of soup and the glass of orange soda on his bedside table and nudges him awake. He’s still pale and his eyes are red with exhaustion, blinking up at her slowly, and she swears more bruises have bloomed on his face in the 15 minutes since she saw him.

“I’m a mess,” Jake says, and she thinks he’s deliberately echoing her words from earlier. He sounds tired and pathetic.

She sits beside him on the bed and runs a hand through his hair, nails scratching a little against his scalp. Jake’s eyes flutter closed, and she leans forward and kisses each eyebrow, and the outer corners of his eyes, and the tip of his nose. She kisses him on the mouth. His lips are chapped and the stubble on his cheeks tickles her own smooth skin.

Amy pulls back and Jake opens his eyes, looking up at her with something like wonder.

“You are,” she says. “But you’re my mess. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

#b99 fic #missing scene #jimmy jabs 2 #jake peralta #amy santiago #jake/amy #hurt/comfort

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