#my love of drawing round babies has finally paid off

[erazonpo3]

chonk Lugia

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Jose Pedraza & Richard Commey Battle to A Draw

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Published: August 28, 2022

TULSA, OK — Two former world champions came to Hard Rock Hotel & Casino Tulsa in desperate need of a victory. Neither man accomplished that mission. Puerto Rican standout Jose "Sniper" Pedraza and Ghana's Richard Commey battled to a highly disputed 10-round draw in the junior welterweight main event Saturday evening. The scores — 97-93 Pedraza, 96-94 Commey, and 95-95 — reflected the bout's back-and-forth nature. Commey (30-4-1, 27 KOs), who once held the IBF lightweight world title, won two of the first three rounds on all three judges' cards. Pedraza (29-4-1, 14 KOs) swept the final two rounds to salvage the draw and keep alive his goal of winning a world title in a third weight class. The fight turned when a clash of heads opened up a cut over Commey's left eye in the sixth round. Pedraza, fighting out of a southpaw stance, started backing up the noted power puncher and ripping shots at close range. The punch stats were razor thin, as Pedraza outlanded Commey, 165-149. “Even though my eye was inflamed, we understood that it was done because he has a good right hand. The entire night, the whole point was to neutralize that right hand. Despite the fact that it was inflamed, I was able to do that," Pedraza said. “I’ve never turned down a fight, and I’m not going to start now. Whatever Top Rank wants for me. If they demand a rematch, I’m ready to give Richard Commey a rematch because he deserves it and I have the utmost respect for him. Ultimately, my goal is to win a world title once again. Whatever I have to do, that’s what I’m willing to do." Commey said, “It is a draw. Obviously, I have to go back home and see my people. I love my people, and I gotta go back there, do what I gotta do.” The Real Big Baby with the BIG KO Jared "The Real Big Baby" Anderson improved to 12-0 with 12 knockouts, knocking out Serbian veteran Miljan Rovcanin (24-3, 16 KOs) with a chopping right hand at the end of the second round. Anderson, from Toledo, Ohio, returned to the ring for the first time in nearly nine months and made up for lost time. He hurt Rovcanin to the body and then focused on the head. Anderson now has nine knockouts in two rounds or less. “I was very calm. I was very patient. Actually {trainer Darrie Riley} was more nervous than I was as usual, though. I felt very relaxed, pretty much the most relaxed I’ve ever been," Anderson said. “I heard my coach tell me to switch {to southpaw}. I listened to him as always, so that was really the reason I switched.” Torrez Jr. Stops Canedo in 1 U.S. Olympic silver medalist Richard Torrez Jr. (3-0, 3 KOs) obliterated Marco Antonio Canedo (4-3, 2 KOs) in just 44 seconds, the second first-round knockout for Torrez in as many months. Torrez, a southpaw from Tulare, California, knocked down Canedo with a straight left hand 20 seconds into the round. He followed up with a crisp combination that culminated with a right hook that collapsed Canedo face first. Torrez turned pro in March following last summer's Olympic run in Tokyo and has thus far been as advertised in the paid ranks. “I am happy with the result, but my thoughts right now are with Canedo," Torrez said. "He’s a tough man, and I have the utmost respect for him. It happens to the best of us.” Junior Welterweight: Tiger Johnson (5-0, 4 KOs) TKO 5 Harry Gigliotti (8-4, 3 KOs), 2:17. Gigliotti had never been stopped as a pro until he ran into Johnson. For nearly five rounds, Johnson battered and bloodied the Massachusetts native until referee Mark Nelson waved off the fight following a series of left hooks. Johnson landed 55 percent of his power blows and outlanded Gigliotti, 136-21. Heavyweight: Efe Ajagba (16-1, 13 KOs) TKO 2 Jozsef Darmos (14-5-3, 10 KOs), 1:15. The comeback is on for Ajagba, who stopped the overmatched Darmos with a pair of knockdowns in the second round. Referee Gary Ritter stopped the fight immediately following the second knockdown, which was courtesy of a right hand to the side of the head. Ajagba had not fought since last October's decision loss to Frank Sanchez. Following the Sanchez fight, Ajagba had surgery on both elbows and returned to vintage form with a clean bill of health. Heavyweight: Jeremiah Milton (6-0, 5 KOs) KO 2 Nick Jones (9-5, 6 KOs), 2:49. Tulsa native Milton brought the thunder to the hometown crowd, icing Jones with a right uppercut to the temple late in the second round. Junior Welterweight: Kelvin Davis (6-0, 4 KOs) UD 6 Sebastian Gabriel Chaves (5-5, 2 KOs), Scores: 60-52 3x. Davis picked up the biggest win of his young career, as the 25-year-old southpaw from Norfolk, Virginia, knocked down Chaves twice en route to a wide points victory. Chaves, from Buenos Aires, Argentina, has now lost four in a row. Lightweight: Frevian Gonzalez (6-1, 1 KO) UD 6 Gerardo Esquivel (3-3-1, 1 KO), Scores: 58-55 and 59-54 2x. Gonzalez, a stablemate of Pedraza, picked up his second consecutive win with a convincing six-round verdict over the rugged Esquivel. Gonzalez was in control for five rounds until things nearly came apart in the sixth. After getting stunned early in the round— and then having a point deducted for holding — Gonzalez returned fire with a series of looping right hands that forced Esquivel to retreat. Lightweight: Abdullah Mason (4-0, 3 KOs) UD 4 Angel Rebollar (5-1, 3 KOs), Scores: 39-36 and 40-35 2x. Mason knocked Rebollar down with a right hook less than 20 seconds into the opening round, but Rebollar did not relent. The 18-year-old prospects went toe-to-toe as Cleveland's Mason went the distance for the first time in his career. Rebollar did find a home for his right against the southpaw phenom. Light Heavyweight: Dante Benjamin Jr. (4-0, 2 KOs) UD 4 Leandro Silva (3-7, 2 KOs), Scores: 40-36 3x. Benjamin had his hands full against Silva, a rough-and-tumble fighter who is also a veteran of nearly 40 MMA bouts. Silva held and grappled on the inside, making Benjamin uncomfortable at times. Benjamin found his groove late in the fourth round, posing with his hands behind his back and ripping combinations to Silva's head.

Featured Photo: Mikey Williams/Top Rank via Getty Images

[peralta-guaranteed]

After that Jake-Mac-Rosa fic, you dropped this queen: 👑 Next time, a Jake-Mac-Holt piece?

Oh dang, THAT's where I left it. Thank you for that. 🤪

Grandpa Holt is always a pleasure to write, but let's try for some Dad Holt too...

"Is everything alright, Peralta?"

Jake has been sitting off to the side of the group for a while now, so Holt finds it necessary to inquire. He's not used to the eager detective being so closed off and quiet unless something is wrong, and nothing he can think of right now strikes him as 'wrong': they have been celebrating the end of a rather arduous case for Diaz and Boyle, and Peralta had been as helpful as he could be as a tertiary, which was not his preferred position at all. The first round at Shaw's had been paid by himself as Captain, obviously, and the next by Diaz, so Boyle has promised to shoulder the third, were it to happen. Ergo Peralta could not be thinking about his usual money problems, which have lessened anyway ever since Santiago took over his budgeting.

That means something else entirely must be 'wrong' in order for Jake to keep out of the conversation, only reply when he is mentioned by name, and drift off to a corner of the bar while the other congregate around the various game options of the room.

"I'm good, Captain, thanks." Jake answers with a smile and an obvious lie, so Holt doesn't even bother replying, just raises one of his eyebrows a quarter of an inch, which he knows usually gets him results with Peralta. The ensuing sigh shows that it is still working.

"It's just..." Jake shrugs and rubs the back of his neck, another tell of his discomfort. "This is my first night out alone since the baby."

"Indeed." Holt replies. "I remember your phone call to Amy to inform her you would be back late today."

"Yeah." His hand is still on his neck, the other one clutched around his half empty beer bottle. "She told me to have fun. But..uh... I still kinda feel like I shouldn't be here."

"Do you think having a child robs you of autonomity? I know I am not speaking from experience, here, but it does seem to me like you are allowed to enjoy time away from your family, especially if your spouse insists you do."

"Getting drunk at a bar while my kid might be crying at home doesn't feel like the responsible thing to do, is all."

"Ah, I see." Holt nods, and he does see - he actually sees a lot more than what Jake might be trying to imply in his statement. He remembers how he used to self-medicate with alcohol in the past, after ending his relationship with that defense attorney, or even before, while feeling heartbroken over Santiago. He also remembers anecdotes about his father's drinking, not from Peralta himself, obviously, but from the rest of the squad, whenever Jake would cancel on a promised night out after Roger Peralta's visits. As much as Holt hates idioms, one of his most despised is probably 'the apple doesn't fall far from the tree', and Jake seems to fear it as well.

"Here is my solution, then, if you are willing to listen." Jake looks up at Holt as he's standing in front of him, and his hand drops from his neck. "You make the beer you are currently drinking your last for the night, and spend some quality time with your colleagues instead, enjoying a few parlour games, and then you head home at an agreeable time and still see your child before he falls asleep."

Jake grins and takes a sip of his beer.

"Sounds like a plan, Cap." He nods, and Holt doesn't ignore the fact that Jake has been using this shortened nickname for him a lot lately, and how eerily similar it sounds to 'Dad' in his voice.

(An hour later, he receives a picture on his cellphone from Peralta: The man himself, asleep on his couch, with his infant son equally asleep on his chest. Santiago must have commandeered his phone, and Holt is glad for it.)

-*-

"Grampa!"

The sound of that little voice echoes through the hallway as loudly as the ensuing footsteps, and Holt feels something warm and solid wrap around his legs.

"Hello, McClane." He smiles down at the little boy currently clutching his knees, and he smiles back before raising his arms in an obvious demand to be lifted up. Holt obeys it immediately.

He notices Mac looks surprisingly tired for an otherwise very energetic two year old, and Amy, who's now following him to Holt's side, looks equally exhausted.

"Good afternoon, Captain. I'm so sorry, I should've messaged you that I have to bring Mac in for an hour, the babysitter cancelled and the day care couldn't keep him longer than-"

"It is quite alright, Santiago. McClane knows how to behave himself at the precinct, right?" He gives the little boy in his arms a look, and receives a strong and eager nod in reply, the curls on his head bouncing back and forth. If anyone were ever to question Peralta's parentage, that alone would classify them as an imbecile. "I can watch him for the time being, if you have paperwork you need to get in order before leaving for the day."

"God, Captain Holt, would you- that would be so- I was going to ask Rosa, because I know she's at her desk-"

Amy seems far more frazzled than usual, and Holt realises that her regular schedule must be in quite a disarray, considering she has been a single parent for about a week now. Mac must not have been making it easy for her, either, nor must the baby currently growing in her stomach, which has started to show about a month ago, at which point they finally informed the squad about it (when everyone had already figured it out just like last time).

"RoRo!" Mac yells, happily, almost leaning out of Holt's arms, but he quickly hugs him tighter.

"Your aunt Rosa is working, McClane, and we should not interrupt her. We can spend the time in my office, and you can draw if you would like."

"Roro working." He echoes like a little parrot. "Like Daddy."

"That's right." Holt has learned from the parenting homepages he's visited that you are to encourage a child trying to talk and string together a coherent topic, no matter how long it might take.

"Daddy's working away." Mac continues, and out of the corner of his eye Holt sees Amy's forehead wrinkle in worry.

"Yes, your father is in New Jersey for the week to work on a special case." It's not a dangerous case at all, rather a boring standard task that happened to involve some out-of-state suspects, but Jake had still been trying to hand off that trip to anyone who might be willing to help him out. Seeing his son with bags under his eyes and his wife with stresslines around her mouth and her hand on her belly, Holt understands why.

"He comes back." Mac says next, and it is a statement, but the look in his eyes makes it a question, and Holt is quick to answer. He's glad that he has a definite answer to that, instead of the empty promises and assurances he sometimes has to make as the head of a police department.

"Yes, your father will be back soon. In two days, in fact."

Mac holds up two grubby little fingers, and Holt nods with so much fervor it surprises himself.

"Very good, that is two. Only two days and two nights until your father is back home." The worry in Mac's eyes seems to dimish a little at that as he stares at his own fingers. "If we go to my office, we can check on the calendar exactly how long that is." He barely waits for another nod before taking the diaper bag out of Santiago's hands, who whispers a quiet, but relieved "Thank you" to him. He understands again that it means far more than to thank him for taking care of the child for an hour so.

(If he uses that hour to assure Mac several times that no matter what, his father will always find a way back to him with far more emotion in his voice than he'd usually use, well, no one needs to know. Peralta certainly seems happy about the picture he sends him of Mac with his captain's hat behind his desk.)

-*-

"Congratulations." Holt's hand on his shoulder is heavy, but not uncomfortably so, and it gives a quick squeeze before dropping.

They've done the whole customary introduction to the newborn baby, the apparently necessary picture round, and now Kevin is having an amicable chat with Amy in her hospital bed. They've waited two days for their official visit, to give the new parents a chance to get at least a few of their bearings. (Holt was there merely an hour after the birth, of course, with the rest of the squad, but that was a moment of joyful chaos and many voices.) Now the room is filled with an almost serene quiet, Amy's and Kevin's voices low and comfortable in the background as Holt watches the man he truly considers a son hold up his new granddaughter.

"Do you want to hold her again? I know you already did for the photos but-"

Holt only nods and takes the infant out of his hands with perfect ease. He's more used to a wriggling toddler now, but he still clearly remembers the days when Mac was equally quiet and frail in his arms. The little one in them now is asleep amidst all that is happening, her tiny mouth open just a fraction, and he feels her arm bump against his chest while she seems to be having a dream.

"She is as perfect as her older brother, Jake."

"Yeah." Jake smiles, and there's nothing of that boisterous, loud, cocky detective grin left in it that he used to know. It is soft and kind and full of love, and it might be one of Holt's favourite expressions. "Amy did a superb job again."

"As did you."

"I'm sure I don't gotta explain this to you, Cap, but I didn't really do much." Jake jokes, and Holt can tell he's trying to divert the attention to a simpler topic, but sometimes things must be said.

"You do a lot, Jacob." He continues, then. "Far more than a lot of fathers do. Far more than many would expect of you. And you do it all perfectly right, with heart and determination."

Jake nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat, it seems, and it might be a step too far for his already emotional state, but Holt feels like it needs to accompany his accolades.

"I am very proud of you, son."

Jake is very obviously fighting back tears as he replies.

"Thanks, dad."

The little girl in Holt's arms stirs right at this moment, and Jake seems to want to interject immediately in fear that she'll start crying, but she simply stares up at Holt with impossibly big, brown eyes for the first time. And he realises, just as he did two years ago when Mac's little hand tightened around his finger for the first time, that there is a child in this world that he would literally do anything for. There are four of them now, even if two of them have not fallen under the category of a child for several decades.

"Hello, Maya." He says to the little face that seems to be inspecting him. "I'm Captain Raymond Holt. Your grandfather."

He looks up at Kevin and Amy, who've stopped their conversation while Amy is lifting her phone in their direction, and then at Jake, who's looking at Maya as well with shining eyes. Then he looks back down at Maya, stretching her arms out of her swaddle as if she's reaching for him.

"You are a very lucky little girl."

[lue-arlert]

Lue!! Congrats on 100 followers!! <3 I would pretty please like to meet up with Armin, NSFW pls bc I'm a whore. I also wouldn't mind being a sugar baby.

Sandie my love thank you so so much 🥺🥺🖤

I hope you enjoy your date with Armin 🥰🥰

WC: 1.7k

18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact

The strangest date a sugar daddy has ever wanted to take you on was mini golfing.

You couldn’t say you weren’t excited, you were gonna get burgers and ice cream beforehand, and the simplicity of the date was a nice change of pace from others trying to constantly feed you calamari and wine—you could only handle so much of it.

Though, you were still confused about why he had you dress up in such an expensive dress, glimmering and soft in the sunlight, just for a $10 game of mini golf—but he did a great job planning ahead and buying you a comfortable pair of flats instead of stilettos to go with your dress.

He wanted to meet you at the ice cream parlor, saying he was running late from work and didn’t want you stuck at home looking so pretty when you could be out showing off your new outfit—even if you were just sitting in the parking lot.

Soon, while you were biting your nails against your car, a nice shiny black car rolled up beside you, and Armin Arlert stepped out in all his blond, dorky looking glory.

He wasn’t like any sugar daddy you’d ever had. He was younger than others, his hair fluffed and hanging in his eyes with a nice buzzed undercut, a button nose sitting between his baby fat cheeks, and his suits never appeared to be extremely expensive. In fact, he hardly ever wore a full suit. It was mostly just a nice pair of slacks and a wrinkled button up shirt tucked into them with simple loafers on his feet.

He smiled at you, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long, I’m sorry again for being late.”

“It’s okay.” You grinned up at him and slipped your arm into his, letting him walk you inside.

Your lunch was delicious—a cheeseburger with all the fixings, crispy fries and a cold soft drink, then your favorite ice cream in a crunchy cone.

Getting to know him was a lot of fun. He surprisingly had similar interests with you, so it was easier to bond with him and make jokes and tell stories about your life.

You kept getting stares from people who were dressed in just tee shirts and lawn-mowed tennis shoes, and it was getting Armin riled up. He loved when people could ogle at what was his, that he could show off his money, even in a humble environment such a burger joint ice cream parlor.

When other men would look at you, he just knew that they were trying to undress you with their eyes, the way they gazed over your shoulders and legs.

Armin couldn’t wait to be the one undressing you.

He paid for the golf balls and putters, holding your hand between rounds, touching your back to help you get the right posture for a hole-in-one, kissing the side of your head when you got excited about a hole-in-two.

It was when you bent down to rest your ball on the tee at a particular round, he suddenly lost it.

Glancing around, he made sure there weren’t any other patrons nearby, and he scooped you up by your waist, pulling a startled yelp from you, and carried you over to a large tunnel shaped like a barn that one would walk through to get to the next course.

There was a small bench in it, which he carefully placed you on and sat himself between your knees, pushing you back against the wall and kissing you ferociously.

You were still in a state of shock, having to take a moment to process what was happening, but you finally kissed him back with your arms around his neck, sighing happily through your nose.

His lips were warm and soft against yours, his nose bumping yours as he tilted his head, sliding his tongue into your mouth while his hands traveled up your sides.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him against you, and you could feel the bulge in his pants pressing into your core.

You couldn’t help the moan you let out at this contact, and it only fueled the fire that was burning inside of him.

Armin pulled away from your lips and latched onto your neck, his hands finding their place over your tits and massaging and squeezing, growling at the plump mounds in his palms.

Your body felt so good against his, the way your curves were flush against him, the way your hips absently rocked against his, your arms draped over his shoulders and hands in his blond locks.

He couldn’t wait any longer and pulled the front of your dress down, exposing your breasts as he leaned down to suck on one, then pushing your dress skirt up to your hips and pulling your thighs apart.

You moaned at his touches and kisses, and when his hand slipped between the two of you and his fingers found your clit, you all but melted against him, your body relaxing at the feeling of the little swirls over the bud.

And when he slipped a finger into your panties and pushed them aside, dipping into the hole of your cunt, you let out a shaky whimper as his knuckles dragged along your insides, leaving you twitching and rolling your hips.

“A-Armin—”

“‘Daddy’,” he corrected you against your throat.

“Daddy—! Someone, someone will see us.”

“Let them, pretty.” He finished the second hickey on your neck and kissed up to your ear, curling his fingers inside of you. “Let someone see how beautiful you are, how sweet you sound moaning for me.”

He pulled back and looked into your eyes as he continued to finger you, biting his smiling lip when he watched your jaw drop. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“So good, daddy,” you whimpered, your head falling back against the wall.

“Do you wanna cum on my fingers or on my cock?” He nipped at your lips and you whined, grabbing his shoulders.

“Your cock, daddy.” You slid your hands up to his face and pulled him into another kiss, to which he groaned and nodded against you.

Armin’s fingers slid out of you and he quickly made work on his belt and pants, pulling his thick length from his briefs.

“Gonna fuck you real good, baby. You want that? Want me to fuck you on my cock?”

“Please, daddy, want you to fuck me.” You nodded and slid your fingers into his hair, gasping when he rubbed his tip through your wet folds.

“Hope someone catches us,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist while his other hand positioned himself at your hole. “Want them to see how beautiful you look getting fucked by me.”

Before you could comment on this, he sheathed himself inside of you, making your jaw drop into a silent O, and Armin took great pleasure in seeing you in the hazy state.

“Everything okay, baby?” He asked in a condescending tone, grabbing your face as he began to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace.

You let out a shaky moan and nodded, your knees pulling closer to your exposed chest.

Armin chuckled again and brushed his thumbs on the corners of your lips, staring at how your mouth hung open, before he slid a thumb over your tongue, making you gasp.

“Suck,” he commanded, grunting with another thrust.

You immediately followed his word and wrapped your lips around the digit, hollowing your cheeks to pull him deeper into your mouth, running your wet tongue over his skin and nail.

He let out a breathy moan and continued to rock into you, his balls slapping against your ass as he quickened his pace.

You wrapped a hand around his wrist, holding his hand against your face as you continued to suck on his thumb, your teary eyes looking into his cloudy blue ones.

The tightness of your lips over his finger had Armin growling, mimicking the tightness of your pussy around his cock.

He removed his thumb and kissed you quickly, roughly, before pulling back again and resting his forehead on yours. “I’ll buy you something nice if you let me cum in you baby,” he whispered.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, holding onto him tightly. “Don’t need—don’t need nice—unng—please just cum in me.”

He laughed in your face, gripping your hips and holding you steady as he fucked you harder and faster, feeling you close to your own release and drawing your orgasm from you in an instant, bringing his mouth to yours so he could drink in your moans and cries, grunting as you squeezed and clenched around his cock.

“Gonna cum, baby,” he warned, brushing some of your hair away from your sweaty face and neck. “Gonna fill you.”

“F-fill me, daddy.” You nodded, eyes screwing shut as you began to grow overstimulated.

Armin held your jaw and kissed you again as he shot his load into you, spurt after spurt of his seed painting your insides and spilling out the sides of your hole down his length.

“Fuck, you did so good for me baby.” He shoved his tongue into your mouth and pulled out of you, quickly looking down to watch his essence drip out of you onto the bench and asphalt beneath you.

A sound drew both of your attention to the end of the tunnel, a couple standing in shock at the sight of him between your legs.

When Armin caught a glimpse of the tent in the man’s pants, he smirked and lifted your leg by your ankle to show off your trembling, dripping pussy while you squeaked nervously.

“Isn’t she beautiful? She did so well for me.” He kissed your calf and lowered your leg again, helping fix you back up and pulling you to your feet, dusting off the back of your dress.

He guided you out of the tunnel, passing a wink to the couple as he wedged past them, while you buried your face into his arm, embarrassed (and weirdly excited) about having been caught.

Maybe you could try this again sometime—fuck in public, and hope that Armin can show you off again.

Lue Arlert’s 100 Follower First Date Event - CLOSED

[ohhipstaplease]

Angst number 24🥺

Angst # 24 “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Canon Compliant | One-shot | Angst With A Happy Ending | T+ | Ao3

Drabble List

Her heart was in her throat since the moment Sai had delivered the news. 

“We can’t seem to locate him, Hinata.”

Naruto had always prepared her for this moment, the inevitable one that always seemed to cloud over them. He had left her a list of numbers to call, and bills that would have to be paid. The key to their old apartment, where they still stored some of their things. And a box of mementos, ones that he’d want her to pass on to their children. She’d always side-glance the desk where he’d keep all of this, praying that she’d never actually had to open the drawer that held all of the things she’d need in case of an emergency.

“I love you,” He had whispered the day he had left, kissing her gently as he wrapped his arms around her once more. He had told her not to get up from bed, he had already fed their son and she needed her to rest now that she was with child again.

She didn’t want to listen, but exhaustion kept her from fighting him. Instead, she breathed him in as he protectively placed a hand on her rounded stomach. He whispered sweet nothings to their unborn child, kissing her belly for good measure. It made her heart flutter as she watched him, knowing that another child meant another chance for her husband to be a loving father once again. 

“Hinata?”

Her eyes fluttered open and met his once again, “Yes?”

“You know what to do if something happens, right?”

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought, but she pretended like she was fine. Worrying him right before he took off wouldn’t help anyone. 

“Yes. But nothing will, Naruto-Kun. You’ll come home safely to us like you always do.”

A ninja’s life was tenuous, short-lived. The young couple understood that, they did. But Naruto...he was the exception to the rule. After everything he had lived through, all the battles he had won, Hinata believed him to be unbreakable, unbeatable. Sometimes she had even wondered if he was even human.

But then something like this happened and it led Hinata to question everything she had ever believed.

“Hinata, did you hear me?” Sai asked, worriedly. He led her to a chair in the couple’s kitchen and had her sit down, worried that she might faint.

“W-what do you mean you can’t locate him?” 

She looked over her shoulder at their sleeping son on the couch, the spitting image of his father. Her hand protectively covered her growing bump, almost as if sheltering their unborn child from hearing what was being said.

“He’s been missing for more than a couple of hours now. We’ve sent out our best team to find him, Hinata...” Sai clasped her shoulder, trying to reassure her. 

Still, nothing would ground her. She felt as if her soul had left her body. If it hadn’t been for Boruto asking why she was crying, she probably wouldn’t have even remembered she had two other lives to care for.

She didn’t have time to sit around and be sad, she was a mother first now. She knew that, understood that she and Naruto now came second. But still, she couldn’t bear to get up from bed.

“I-I’m okay, baby,” She tried, “Your sibling was kicking all night and wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” 

Her son jumped up onto their bed and gently patted her belly, “Hey you, you’re making mama cry. Stop moving around in there!”

Hinata couldn’t help but smile through her tears, grasping her son and cuddling him to her chest. 

Yes, she and Naruto had the talk many times. What would happen if he died on a mission or if she passed away during childbirth. They weren’t easy things to discuss, no, they both would end up in tears, desperately grasping each other and hoping they’d never have to know what life was like without the other. 

She had memorized every line on his face by now, every crinkle by his eyes when he laughed. She had always tried to drink in every detail of her life with him and their children, never for a second taking it for granted.

So she didn’t understand why, now when it counted, she couldn’t seem to picture Naruto’s laughing face. 

“When is daddy coming back?”

Hinata stifled a sob and looked down at her son, “Soon, baby. He got a little lost on the way back home.”

“Oh, well...next time let’s draw him a map.”

She nodded, “That’s a great idea, Boruto. Why don’t we do that right now?”

“Yeah?”

She smiled, “Yes, go get your crayons. We can turn on the TV and sit on the floor in the living room.”

Boruto bolted from her side and giddily ran down the hall to his room to gather his coloring supplies.

Hinata tried to wipe her tears and compose herself. It wouldn’t be good for her or the baby to continue down this road. She knew Naruto would be worried if something were to happen to her or their unborn child, so she tried her best to push away any frightening thoughts and instead imagined her golden boy coming home to her once again.

“Mama, can you help me draw the map?”

She nodded as she poured her son a cup of tea and placed a few of his favorite treats in front of him. He smilingly picked one out and started eating, leaving a few crumbs behind. She watched him in awe, still not quite sure how they had managed to create him. Her heart swelled as she watched him, making the young boy furrow his brow and ask, “Are you okay?”

“Ignore me,” She waved her hand and picked up an orange crayon, “Let’s draw this for daddy, yes?”

The pair colored for what seemed like hours. Hinata attempted to focus on the task before her, but every so often her mind wandered and her eyes drifted to the phone. Willing it to finally ring, to finally have someone tell her the inevitable.

She just needed to know, either way. She needed to know if she had to go open the drawer, go through the papers, unlock their apartment, and move out their things.

So many things to do, so little time to process.

“Mama!?” Boruto asked frantically, waving his small hand in front of her face.

“What is it?”

“The phone is ringing!”

Hinata jumped up from her seat and dashed to the phone. With her heart in her throat as she picked up and said into the receiver, “Hello?” she prayed for good news.

“Hinata?” She heard Sakura’s voice ask.

“Yes!?”

“You need to come to the hospital. Let me send someone to bring you and Boruto.”

“I-Is he okay?”

Sakura exhaled, “He’s in rough shape, but he’s going to be fine.”

Hinata’s legs gave out from under her, and she managed to fall upon her knees as she cried into her hands. Boruto quickly picked up the phone and asked, “Auntie Sakura? Mama’s crying.”

“Is she alright?” Sakura asked.

Boruto studied his mother and nodded, “Mmhmm. I think she’s okay, just crying.”

“You take care of her, okay? I’m going to send Sai to bring you over to see your dad.”

“Dad’s back!?”

“Yes he is, we’ll see you soon okay? Take care of your mama.”

Boruto quickly hung up the phone and ran upstairs to grab his coat and his mother’s. Just as he heard Sai knock on the door he grabbed the map he and Hinata had just finished and folded it into his pocket.

He was going to make sure his dad didn’t worry his mom like that ever again. 

---

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Hinata cried as she hugged her husband tightly to her chest. 

“Hina, you know I’d never leave you,” He muttered as he tried to mask the pain she was inflicting onto his already injured body.

“Daddy!” Boruto called as he jumped onto his father’s hospital bed.

“Gentle!” Sakura yelled as she walked in behind him, “He has a long road ahead of him before he can horse around with you again, Boruto.”

Naruto look down at his son and smiled, “Did you take care of mom?”

Boruto nodded solemnly, “Yeah, and we made you this,” he grabbed the map out of his pocket and placed it on Naruto’s lap, “Just to make sure you always make your way back home okay? I don’t want you worrying mama like that again.”

Hinata brushed Boruto’s hair back and kissed his forehead as Naruto tried to push away his tears. 

“No matter where I go, now I know I won’t get lost,” Naruto said proudly as he took Boruto into his embrace and pressed his cheek to Hinata’s swelling belly, “I’ll always know my way back home thanks to you three.”

[hb-writes]

A Little Raven

Written in response to Hauntober prompt #15: Raven.

Summary: From the Little Lady Blinder universe! A chat between sisters-in-law followed by a chat between Lizzie and Tommy. This is a bit long and self-indulgent and might not be particularly consistent with canon but oh well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Characters Featured: Lizzie Shelby, Clara Shelby (Shelby!Sister), Tommy Shelby

—–

“Frances said you wanted me first?” 

Lizzie turned from the window, allowing the passage of a brief smile as she glanced at her sister-in-law. Like her husband, Lizzie still saw a couple of kids when she looked at Clara and Finn, still saw the little girl who passed her time with books and papers while sitting on the stoop at Watery Lane, still saw the boy with a keen eye for mischief and a disposition towards unsanctioned sweets. She supposed those visions still held true. None of them were so different to be unrecognizable through the years. Some traits endured the transition to adulthood, no matter what transpired in the interim. 

Clara stripped out of her coat, placing it over the back of the chair before following Lizzie’s gaze out to the yard where Ruby and Charles played with the nanny, their squeals and laughter sharp and clear through the pane of the closed window. 

Clara sat in one of the armchairs, pulling her feet up and working on untying her boot laces while she waited. She was used to the reticent moments, used to people taking their time in revealing why she’d been summoned somewhere in the first place. She found it a pleasant change for Lizzie to be inviting her to the drawing-room for a visit rather than Tommy summoning her to his office for one of his chats, even if her sister-in-law was very clearly preoccupied.  

The thud of Clara’s shoes hitting the floor as she slipped them off her feet pulled Lizzie’s eyes towards her for a moment before she settled them on the girl’s discarded boots, understated but still expensive, something Tommy had probably paid for. 

Lizzie wasn’t ignoring her on purpose, Clara knew that. She was just distracted, caught up in her own thoughts, turning something over in her mind. Clara just wasn’t certain how she fit into those thoughts.

“Lizzie?” Clara said.

“Mmm?” Lizzie hummed, finally fixing her eyes on Clara.

“You did ask for me, right?” Clara said. 

“I suppose you’d prefer to go be with the children,” Lizzie mused. “Or to go say hello to your brother?” 

“Is he home already?” Clara asked, glancing down at the small watch on her wrist as she adjusted the clock face. It was barely past five.

Lizzie scoffed, gave a single shake of her head. Tommy was eternally late in coming home, and habitually premature in leaving it.

“Well, that leaves more time for us to catch up, then,” Clara offered, absently kneading the arch of her foot. “I came home to be with all of you, Lizzie.”

“Right, all of us,” Lizzie answered, sitting down in an adjacent armchair. “When’s the last time you saw all of us here, Clara? When’s the last time he graced us with his presence at a decent hour?”

It was the previous Sunday, Clara remembered, and he’d come out of his office just before dinner, played with Charles and Ruby a bit before eating with Clara, Lizzie, and the kids, but Clara had the feeling Lizzie didn’t want to be reminded of that.

“Did you talk to him?” Clara asked.

Lizzie took a deep breath and nearly gagged, feeling as though she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from conjuring up the contents of her latest meal, the sick feeling in her stomach beyond the typical bout of morning sickness, more of a nauseating dread which had settled in the pit of her stomach.

The last time she’d been here, in this condition, Lizzie had been optimistic. Nearly five years later, she felt anything but. And despite all the strength she’d decided on summoning, despite deciding to stay, to accept Tommy and his faults, to balance her head against her heart, she hadn’t planned on this as a part of the deal.

‘A little you and me,’ she’d offered Tommy when she’d told him of the first baby growing inside of her, a smile on her face, a bit of hope in her heart. 

She had little hope this time, little positivity about the life prospects for yet another child of Thomas Shelby, a little boy nonetheless, a little raven-haired boy who would have his parents’ blue eyes, his father’s strong jaw, the unmistakable markings of a Shelby.

If Tommy had kept all of his promises, if he’d done right and put a proper stop to the sport for anyone named Shelby. If he’d kept Finn and Clara away from the life, Lizzie might have thought differently. She might have felt nothing but happiness at the prospect of another child with a little tuft of raven hair and bright blue eyes, but in half a decade, Tommy had dealt her plenty of empty assurances.

She feared enough for the children already. Her Ruby was a different child around her father, a bit nervous, a bit quiet. The girl didn’t know the same Tommy that Clara and Finn knew, nor the father Charlie had had for a time, at least while he was young.

This baby would never know that version of Tommy either, not really. Her children would spend their lives distant from the man they called dad, and there was part of Lizzie that didn’t think it to be a terrible thing.

Clara reached out to clasp Lizzie’s hand. “Lizz--”

“Polly says it’s a boy.”

“Oh,” Clara answered, pulling her hand back. “That’s--”

Lizzie cleared her throat and continued. “A little raven-haired boy named James.” She opened her cigarette case, placed the fag between her lips. “Jamie,” she added. “And no, I haven’t told your brother.” 

Clara frowned. She was tired of holding the secret she’d accidentally overheard when Lizzie confided in Polly. She was tired of pretending with her brother, tired of avoiding him. It wasn’t easy work, withholding information from him because, despite the best of Clara’s efforts, Tommy possessed an uncanny ability to know when his sister was keeping something from him. 

“He loves being a father, Lizzie. He’ll be--”

“Happy?” she suggested. “I’m less worried about your brother being happy than I am worried for all of you kids.” 

“All of us?”

Lizzie lit the cigarette, puffing before she pointed it at Clara.

“Yes, you and Finn are included.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Lizzie.” 

“Right, with Finn running around getting himself shot and you--”

“What about me?”

“Neither one of you kids has a healthy sense of self-preservation, always pushing when you haven’t a need, and you’ve passed it right on to those two. Maybe it’s in the blood, an inherited recklessness that--” 

“Is that really what you’re worried about? That I’ve taught the kids to stand up for themselves and I’ll teach the baby the same?” Clara asked.

Lizzie glanced out the window again, the things she was truly scared about swirling in her mind while she watched Ruby and Charles holding hands as they went round in circles.

“It’s a bad omen, a raven,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Clara answered. “A baby can’t be a bad omen.”

Lizzie was beginning to believe that the Shelby name was a curse and that despite her husband’s promises, not one of the kids would live a life unmarred by it, not Finn, not Clara, not Charles nor Ruby, and not the unborn son growing in her womb. And despite knowing Thomas Shelby loved the children, she feared what she already knew to be true, that loving a person wasn’t always enough.

These days, Tommy’s moments of softness were harder to come by. The types of moments Clara held on to when her brother was difficult, the moments that reminded her through the tough spots that he did much of what he did out of love, for protection or survival. Lizzie didn’t know her children would have that, didn’t know that a raven-haired boy looking just like his father could ever garner as much care as he’d deserve from the man, enough of the affection that he would need to someday to get through the tough spots. 

“He’s not how he once was with you,” Lizzie said.

“He’s not been like that for a long while, Lizzie, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love them.” 

“I know he loves them, loves all of you, but I worry someday they won’t have memories enough to forgive him as you do.” 

“I don’t forgive him because of the memories, Lizzie,” Clara answered. “I forgive him because he’s nearly my father and because I know he cares for me as much as I care for him. Ruby and Charles know that. Jamie will, too.”

Clara joined Lizzie on the couch. “And regardless, you care for us all well enough whether that fool joins us for dinner or not.”

Lizzie set her cigarette down in the tray and accepted Clara’s offered hug, allowing herself to release a breath of relief with the girl in her arms. 

“Well, that may be, but it doesn’t settle my nerves about you and Finn,” Lizzie said as she pulled away.

Clara rolled her eyes. “You’ve not--”

“Glad I’m not the only one concerned.” 

Clara glanced at her watch again before looking at Tommy where he stood by the door. “You’ve actually come early?”

He nodded. “Someone had Adam make it very clear in my diary that I was meant to be home at a respectable hour today.” 

Clara hummed, feigning an impressed surprise, as though she hadn’t begged Tommy’s personal secretary at the commons to adjust his schedule to accommodate him being back in Warwickshire so early on a Friday evening. 

“Right. I think I’ll leave you two and go say hello to Charlie and Ruby while we wait on Finn,” Clara offered, slipping past Tommy on her way to the door. 

“Forgetting something, Clara?”

Clara turned back to him, snatching the forgotten boots from his outstretched hand.

“When our brother gets in, we can have a talk about your excursion in London on Tuesday evening, eh?”

Clara sighed. “I think we’re a bit old for a lecture, Tommy. It was nothing.”

“Seems like you two idiots’ll never be too old for a lecture,” he answered. “But go on. Go see the kids. I’m sure they’ve been asking after you all day.” 

Tommy watched his sister leave before taking the seat beside his wife. “Now, while we wait for Finn, you and I can have a talk about that baby you’ve got growing inside you, eh Lizzie?”

Lizzie scoffed. "Polly told you then? Or was it Clara?”

Tommy shook his head. Of course, his sister knew. He cleared his throat. 

“It was actually you, Lizzie,” he said, taking her hand in his. “Been eating honey on everything. Last time you did that was when you were pregnant with our Ruby.” 

Lizzie nodded, looked out at the kids again, saw Clara had joined Ruby and Charles, and the three of them were laughing like a set of maniacs as they ran about the lawn.

“You’re worried,” Tommy offered, guiding his wife’s face to his. “Let me into that head of yours, Lizzie.” 

She leaned into his touch as he cupped her cheek, allowed herself that comfort.  

“To clear it out?” she mumbled.

Tommy nodded. “To clear it out. Just like we agreed.” 

Lizzie placed her hand on top of his.

“Ruby’ll be asking after another sister.”

“Well, she’ll be disappointed then,” Lizzie answered. “It’s a boy.”

Tommy nodded. There was a time when he thought it mattered, back when boys became blinders and girls were considered liabilities but Tommy had stopped thinking that way, started thinking that Lizzie was right. And Grace had been right. There was only one way to keep them all safe.

“Either way,” he answered. “Another little you and me, eh?”

Lizzie nodded and Tommy pulled his eyes away at the approaching footsteps and laughter as Ruby and Charlie piled into the room.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

“And what have you lot been up to, eh?” Tommy asked, pulling Ruby into his lap as Charlie came to sit beside them.

“We’ve been playing, daddy!” Ruby said.

“Dad, Aunt Clara said she and Uncle Finn are ready for a shouting at whenever you are,” Charlie said. “They went to your office.”

Tommy shook his head, glanced quickly at Lizzie before he looked back to his boy. 

“What are you going to shout at them for, daddy?” Ruby asked, turning her head to look up at him.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart,” Tommy answered.

“He’s gonna shout because they’ve been naughty,” Charles said to his sister. 

“Don’t shout very much, daddy,” Ruby answered. “It’ll ruin our supper.” 

“I’m not going to shout. We’re just going to have a talk about them setting a better example for you kids.”

“And then we’ll have supper?” Ruby asked.

“Then supper, Ruby,” he said. “I had Frances ask chef to make a special honey cake for dessert.”

“For mummy?” Ruby asked. “Mummy loves honey cake.” 

“And for your baby brother,” Lizzie answered, pulling Ruby’s hand to rest on her stomach. “The one growing in my belly.”

-----

Read more Little Lady Blinder stories here.

[imagineshere-forall]

Derek Morgan Imagine

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think so, just a bit sad

Word Count: 1.7k

Request: No request but I watched an episode of criminal minds and had an idea I couldn’t get out of my head. Based during the episode s2 ep11 ‘sex, birth, death’ this is the episode where someone is going round killing prostitutes and the team are surprised when you know some of the witnesses, especially your boyfriend derek.  

Sorry this is so long!!

-----

You had been working at the BAU for a couple of years. Since your time at the BAU you had grown more than friendly with another member of the team, Derek Morgan. He helped you adjust to working with the quirky team and experiencing the horrific crimes. You and the team had grown as close as a family, Spencer your peculiar brother, and Hotch and Gideon posed as father figures as you had lacked one for most of your upbringing.

Recently, Spencer had been approached by a teenager, hinting at the murders of prostitutes in the local area. You, Morgan, Reid and Hotch were walking up and down the allies where the second body had been found. You and Morgan were looking at the dead body, studying the position of the body. Feeling satisfied you had taken enough mental notes to start conducting a profile, you walked over to the other three men who were talking to two other women who had been working alongside the victim.

As soon as you walked up to the pair of women, you felt the air in your lungs constrict. You knew these girls. One of them you knew so well, she was almost your mentor, Debbie. You thought the chance of you ever coming into contact with them was so unlikely, you’d never have to worry about it. You attempted to shield your face without drawing too much attention to yourself, working with a team of behavioural analysists usually meant you could never keep anything from them. You and Derek had only been able to keep your relationship a secret for a matter of weeks until Spencer pointed changes in your behaviour out.  

“y/n it has been so long girl, I haven’t seen you in so long!” one of the girls smiled. The four men surrounding the pair of girls swivelled their heads to stare at you. You quickly plastered on a smile and hugged the girl coming close to you with open arms.  

“You guys know each other?” Hotch asked looking as the pair of you parted from a tight embrace.  

“We, uh, we use to work together, it’s good to see you Debbie,” you muttered, trying not to let anything on. You could see all four men’s burning stares at confusion as you swept a stray hair from your face. You began to feel intimidated, with your short stature they all towered above you.  

“Well, not together together, she used to work the corner up a couple of blocks,” Debbie said as she smacked her chewing gum back into her mouth.  

“What do you mean you use to work together?” Spencer asked, stuttering as though he knew the answer but didn’t quite want to draw conclusions.

“She used to mentor me, helped me save up enough and get me through college. If it weren’t for Debbie, I probably wouldn’t be working in the BAU with you guys,” you smiled, getting comfortable with your old friend. You had to admit you had missed her, you had great times together.  

“She was a natural though, this girl didn’t need much mentoring,” Debbie winked. You could feel your face heating up. As your heart started to race you felt your boyfriend’s hand placed on the small of your back. He was confused, he thought you had told him everything about your life.  

“I’m sorry, are you saying y/n, use to work with you, here?” Gideon asked, his eyes not leaving your heated face.  

“Surprised she hasn’t told you, one of the most successful girls to work this city,” Debbie exclaimed. You cringed, wishing she would stop talking; but from your long history with her, you knew she would never stop talking. She could talk for the country.  

As the men realised, you felt their stares changes from confusion. Derek’s hand left your body, a bit in shock.  

“I’m going to go for a walk,” you whispered as you felt your eyes welling up. You couldn’t get Hotch’s eyes out of your mind. He had helped you so much, you had babysat his kid for him and Hayley. He looked betrayed that he hadn’t know one of your deepest secrets. You wiped one of the tears leaking from the corner of your eyes, as you walked away you shook off Gideon’s hand trying to hold you back. You power walked towards the bustle of the city, just needing to get away from the tense situation.  

Panic was coursing through your body. Constant thoughts of worry, whether you still had a job, if Derek would leave you, if they would ever talk to you again.  

You heard footsteps chasing after you, and as someone grabbed your hands you went to shout your boyfriend away, not wanting to get into an argument. You silenced yourself as you were met with Spencer. You felt so weak you just collapsed into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Spencer never normally was good with contact; you just felt his hand rest on the back of your head and his head collapsing on your own.  

Once your tears had begun to slow, you unwrapped yourself from Spencer noticing the large wet patch you had left on his sweater.  

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed.

“It’s fine,” he smiled, brushing it off as if it were nothing “Let’s go get a drink,” he held out his hand, which you gladly accepted using your other hand to wipe your face.  

Once you had settled with a drink, you looked up seeing Spencer texting before placing his phone on the table. You had always been always to tell him everything, even before you told Derek.  

You looked at him, placing your drink down.  

“I had just graduated high school, and as someone who had been in and out of the foster system, I didn’t have much support. If I wanted to go to college, I had to get a decent job to keep up with costs of textbooks and food. I was working as a pole dancer, I made so much from tips on weekend nights, but it wasn’t enough. Debbie said if I needed more money, I could just go on dates with some men she knew and I'd get paid almost a thousand dollars a date. I was working part-time as a stripper, doing college full time and in one evening I managed to make what I would normally make in a month. All I had to do was dress nice and go to a fancy event with men and act a bit flirty.  

With one man, it went a little bit further, he offered me 10 grand to have sex with him. That meant I would be able to quit my stripping job completely and focus on my studies for a while. Every couple of months we would meet up and do it again, and every time I was paid enough to keep me going for a while. After a year, he moved away and I couldn’t find any higher paying customers. I had to work more often. I went back to Debbie and she helped me get more regular customers. I managed to still make about 6 thousand dollars on a Friday night, I'm not sure what it was but men always came to me.  

Once I got a steady job, and started moving up in law enforcement I could completely stop, no more escorting, no more stripping, I was finally making money my own way. The reason I chose law enforcement is because I had some bad experiences working in my field, and I wanted to stop other women going through it. Multiple times I was sexually assaulted by men, and attacked. I couldn’t stand to see it happen to other women. That’s how I decided to work in law enforcement.”

By the end of your speech, tears were streaming down your face again. You had to keep stopping during the story, the deeper you got into your past the more emotional you got. Reid stood up and pulled you standing to give you a tight hug. Obviously, he was speechless. The women he had been working with for several years had been hiding a secret like this from him. If she was able to hide this, what else was she hiding.  

The hug was interrupted as you heard a light cough behind you, you saw the three other men looking at you with pitiful eyes. You had a feeling they had listened to your story you had just spilled. Aaron just opened his arms wide; you did not hesitate as you wrapped yourself into his warm embrace. You felt Gideon hug you next, cradled you. He had been such a father figure to you over the past few years, he rocked you in his arms.  

As he released you, you turned to see Derek with his soft eyes looking at you. You barrelled into his arms. The tears spilling, once again.  

“I love you,” Derek whispered in your ear, rocking you softly. He knew it comforted you,  

He placed a kiss on your hair, whispering I love you over and over.  

“Baby, you didn’t have to keep this from me, I love you, and nothing can change that,” He pulled you apart so he could look into your eyes. You held his hand that was placed on your shoulder pressing your lips on his knuckles still looking into his eyes.  

“Now I know why you’re so good in bed,” Derek whispered in your ear, winking at you so none of your colleagues could hear you. You whacked his shoulder with the oversized sleeve of your jumper giggling.  

[hufflepuffhollander]

fire and gasoline (mob!tom series) ch. 1: new vendetta

a/n | wooo buckle in this is a wild ride 😼 and pls share w the world! i’m proud of this one!

synopsis | Your family runs a sect of the british mafia. Tom Holland is the son of the mob leader in your rival gang. You’ve been groomed to be at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember, and a chance run-in after over a decade of feuding and secrecy has you questioning everything you thought you knew.

cw | mob!tom au. enemies to lovers. language, angst, death threats, objectification, sexual tension, and lots of spit. 3.1k words.

read the prologue, join the taglist :)

Roxy’s was your spot- it always had been. The dark alleyway entrance, the smoky air inside that concealed who you truly were, the faceless regulars that just knew to leave you be- it was everything you could want in a local bar. So, instead of somewhere a little cheerier, you chose here; instead of a glimmering club with strobe effects to blind you and music loud enough to burst your eardrums, you decided to spend your birthday where you knew you could melt into the blackness of the night and live mess-free, even if it was just for a few hours.

You had just gotten your second round of drinks with a few friends, your heels clicking from across the room as you wandered over to your table with freshly topped off shot glasses. A brand new, skin-tight black dress paired with electric blue heels adorned you, and the birthday glow radiating across your skin had you looking and feeling like absolutely nothing could bring you down. You were celebrating, you had just landed a major deal with a supplier to your casino; and better yet, you hadn’t heard from the Hollands in weeks. Since their failed attempt at taking out your father during a high-profile event, they had been lying low, full of shame. A recent victory for your family in the never-ending turf war with the Hollands? Not a single mention of Dom or Nikki thwarting your plans in days? Well, that was the best birthday present a girl could ask for. 

You barely had time to feel the gin roll down your throat before the bar door was shoved open, bells tied in a knot overhead chiming ominously as it felt like a tornado had blown in. The room fell quiet, the punkish music on repeat seeming to mute itself. Even the smoke moving through the air was put on pause. Everyone was eyeballing the doorway, where two heavily armed young men stood rigidly; right behind them, a pale, muscular boy with the scent of his own ego radiating off him, a slick smile painted across his face. Every part of your body suddenly felt ice cold.

The boy took off his glasses, the sheer notion that he was wearing wayfarers at night making you groan, and coated the room with his gaze until it landed—and stayed—on you. You tried to avert your attention but couldn’t, as a wave of realization fell over you when he made eye contact. You knew this fuckwad. It was Tom Holland- the son of your rival mob, the boy your father always told you to imagine a target was when learning to sharpshoot...the one who had orchestrated the failed assassination of your dad. Your belly filled with a white-hot fire at the audacity he had to show his face here. Who did he think he was? What the hell was he doing on the East side? And did he know he had just walked into his own execution?

You would’ve seen it through, too, had he not been about to strike you square in the face with a curveball.

“We’re closed.” you heard Roxy spit out, not even bothering to look at the boys as she dried a glass.

“Doesn’t seem like it, babe,” Tom sneered, flashing her an insincere smile and focusing his attention back on you. “And anyway, we aren’t staying; I just came here with a message for the birthday girl.”

You fantasized about a knife appearing on the table in front of you so you could slice the little bitch to shreds for even daring to acknowledge you. But no such luck.

Tom whisked past the bar front, taking his time to saunter over towards your booth. You had bribed your security guard to let you take the night off- he was only there because of your dad’s doing, so he could breathe easier when you were out of his sight. But you hated feeling like a little kid needing to be babysat, especially tonight, when you were turning a year older, and paid him off to get doped up with a friend instead of coming with you. You were kicking yourself for that decision now, watching Tom come up to you without a hint of fear in his dark, shimmering eyes. 

You hadn’t seen him since you were kids, when you had told everyone you were getting married to the cute boy you played with and exchanged candy rings with him in your backyard.

“My my, what an impressive array of barbies,” Tom laughed as he stopped in front of your table, swiping his tongue across his teeth. “any of you pretty things looking to blow this joint?” 

Your few friends looked simultaneously revolted and terrified, and you knew they lived their lives too sugarcoated to witness the interaction you were about to have. 

“Girls, you should leave,” you said, giving them a concerned stare, and it took them less than a second to get up and bolt. Some real friends you had.

You tried to remain composed as you turned your attention to Tom, syllables seething through your gritted teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” 

“Aww, baby, that’s no way to greet an old friend, is it? ‘Coulda least let me wish you a happy birthday,” he sat down on the bench across from you, making you recoil into your seat. “I even have a candle you can blow, if you like.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”

“Well someone just isn’t feeling very sentimental, hmm? You remember all those years ago, playing hide and go seek in your mansion, holding hands under the dinner table...I think I remember you having it pretty bad for me back then-”

“You must have a death wish, huh?” you cut him off, standing up and advancing towards him, but taking a step back as he stood up to meet you and towered over you menacingly. He smelled like cigar smoke and cherry aftershave and it clouded your thoughts. You’d always said you’d kill him if he ever got this close to you. Why were you faltering now when it mattered most? Your heart couldn’t keep up with your head.

“No, doll. Not tonight, and definitely not in a place like this. But I gotta admit, I was not expecting you to look so fucking good after all these years. Pop had me believing you were some kind of ugly recluse. Makes it extra difficult for me to tell you to give daddy a call before your birthday is over,” his eyes hungrily flicked over you in your dress, making your blood boil. “y’know, tell him you love him.”

“The hell are you talking about?” you reached for your purse where your pistol was lodged, but felt a cold piece of metal touch the back of your head, halting your movements.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said minion #1, standing behind you with the barrel of his gun nestled into your curled hair. You swallowed nervously and felt your heart rate skyrocket. The bar seemed to have emptied out; it was just you, Tom, and the promise of death caressing your scalp, and you had nowhere to go.

“Hey, now, Harrison, there’s no need for that! y/n and I go way back,” Tom said, motioning for his friend to lower the weapon. Deeply buried flashbacks of child you linked arm in arm with child Tom flicked through your mind, memories you had suppressed long ago.

“Love,” Tom started, advancing towards you again, leaving you nowhere to go if you didn’t want gun grease staining your head. “I’m simply hinting that you may want to get out any last sentiments before we bleed him out on his crisp white sheets tonight.”

Your eyes widened in panic, and your words came out stuttered. “Y-you’re bluffing-”

“You so sure of that, baby?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning his head in so his face was only inches from yours. “You tellin’ me you know he’s safe and sound right now? Or does an itty, bitty part of you think that maybe, when his baby girl and best insurance policy went out for drinks, it left his ass dangling out in the open, just begging to get capped?”

Your nostrils flared and your teeth were clenched so hard together that you were sure they’d break, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. You were stuck in the space of Tom as his cool breath violated your cheeks, suddenly picturing violent images of your family in a pool of blood.

Your eyebrows raised with each syllable you spoke, trying your best to conceal the incredible stress eating at you from the inside. “Get...the fuck...out of my face.”

Tom did something that almost made you combust then, swiping his thumb across the bottom of your chin, grinning, and blowing a smooch at you before finally drawing back. The sound of his lips smacking together lingered in your ears, like he not only had total control of you, but of all the soundwaves in the air.

“Look, I thought I was doing you a favor, giving you the heads up and all...I definitely didn’t have to. So if you wanna be an ungrateful little bitch about it, fine,” he stepped back, sitting down in the booth again and casually propping his feet up on the seat opposite. “don’t call him. I don’t fucking care.”

With a path to the door finally freed, you began to calculate your next move in your head, but Tom seemed to have violated your thoughts, too.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked, looking off to the door and giving a nod as minion #2 locked it into place and stood with his arms crossed in front of it like the world’s least intimidating bouncer. “You really think we’d come all this way to tell you we’re about to kill daddy and then just let you, what, leave? Run home to his rescue?” he scoffed at the mere thought, and his worker bees in black laughed along with him. Tom gave you an infinitely objectifying once-over. “Like you’d make it that far in those heels.”

“I’d like to see them off,” one of his men said, prompting Tom to violently curse at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, Harry. She’s not yours.” He was acting like some protective owner of you, which only made you angrier as you felt a dull electricity appear in your stomach.

The alcohol already in your system mixed with the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you feel fiery, out of control, erratic. You weren’t sure if you wanted to lunge at him or cry, the sting of worry pinpricking your eyelids as Tom’s smirk stayed put.

“What do you want?” you resigned, looking down and away from him, leaning against the wall behind you for support. You didn’t want to cave, but you couldn’t help it- you were paralyzed, fight or flight response warring with itself.

Tom shrugged, remaining nonchalant. “Just bragging rights, really,” he picked up an arm and ran his fingers through his tousled hair, his oversized platinum watch catching the light as he did it.

You were able to regain some composure as you responded, remembering who you were, knowing that your family could hold its own. You took a few paces forward in an attempt reclaim your pride. “Slim chance. You’d never be able kill him anyway, you pathetic excuse of a television criminal,” you spat out, seeing Tom’s expression falter just enough to spur you on. “You’re not the only one who knows things, y’know, I’ve learned all about you, too. All bark and no bite. A puppy who acts tough until he gets a paper cut and cowers under the bed.” you could feel your confidence refueling your words, and narrowed your eyes. “Maybe you were intimidating as a kid, but you don’t fucking scare me now, Holland.”

Upon the callout, Tom bolted up from his seat, swiftly pulling a handheld gun out of his belt and backing you up against the wall, barrel aimed at the perfect angle to blaze a clean hole through your head. “You little-”

Thankfully, you had friends on this side of town, and Roxy always had your back.

She tore out of the back with an assault rifle twice the size of her, firing a round of warning shots into the rickety ceiling. It shook Tom’s focus enough for you to make a break for it, running and ducking behind the safety of the bar.

“You better get to leaving before I have to mop you greasy motherfuckers off my floor,” Roxy said in her thick cockney accent, looking as intimidating as you’d ever seen her. Tom sniggered and stayed put.

“You think I’m joking?” she said, aiming at the wooden boards and landing a shot barely an inch from one of his friends’ feet. 

“Jesus-!” they yelped, forcing you to stifle a laugh as you watched the scene unfold.

Three very oversized men walked out from the back of the room with their own weapons of choice to back Roxy up. Seeing they’d been outnumbered, Tom retracted his gun and looked warily at his friends, grouping up to leave the bar. He saw you backed in the corner and took an extra moment to let that cocky sneer find its way back to his face, making sure to remind you why you ran in the first place.

The group walked out unscathed, leaving behind a deafening silence until Roxy looked back at you and shook you from your trance.

“Go home, babes, and make sure your family is okay.”

As you ran outside against your better judgement, eyes locked on your car parked in the alley, an abraisive pair of hands grabbed you from behind and pushed you up against the side of the building. You recognized the sickly sweet smell of cherries and knew Tom wasn’t finished with you.

He had his arm up over your head and the other on your shoulder, evidently taking in all of your features for the first time in years.

“Time did you well, didn’t it? My god, can’t believe my little kid wife grew up to be so pretty,” his eyes sparkled with a twisted, deep desire. “We’d look good together in different circumstances, hm?” His words prompted you to spit in his face.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Ooh, a feisty little thing. I’d watch that temper of yours, y/n, you’ll make a lot of enemies talking like that,” he said in a low voice, collecting your spit from his cheek and sucking it off of his finger.

“We’re friends forever, darling. I’ll find my way back to you.” he winked at you and sauntered away into the dark. “Say hi to daddy for me.”

Your foot on the gas pedal made an indentation on the floor of the car as you sped home, tears almost blinding you from the road, making every streetlight overhead look like an abstract explosion of color. You left the ignition on as you careened into the gated entrance of your house, kicking your blue heels into the grass and sprinting inside, yelling. “Dad? Mum? Hello???”

You almost ran head first into your parents as they rushed out of the den after hearing your exasperated calls.

“y/n? What the bloody hell is going on?” your mother saw you standing shell-shocked, taking in the fact that they weren’t chopped into pieces, and pulled you into a hug as you broke out into uncontrollable sobs.

“T-they locked me in and told me they were- that you’d be dead when I got home-” you choked out in between tears, unable to calm your breathing. 

Your dad gripped his tumbler of scotch with so much sudden anger that it shattered into his hand. You could see fire in his eyes. “Who? Who told you that?”

You looked up at him and said exactly what he was expecting. “The Hollands. Tom. He- he came into Roxy’s.”

“I’m going to hang that chav from his wimpy little fucking-”

“Hon, please.” your mom said sternly while motioning to you in your sorry state, making your dad’s face a little less violently red. He took a deep, ragged breath.

“Hey, sweet pea, look,” he said, tucking away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face and was clinging to your tear-streaked cheeks. “We’re okay, alright? Tonight is an ordinary night, and our security detail is the best in the city. You stop worrying and go get yourself cleaned up, mum and I have something special we want to give you.” He smiled only to steam off and slam the door to his office, most likely to make a call to get someone, anyone, that may have had a hand in tonight’s events drawn and quartered by dawn.

You came downstairs after a long, boiling hot shower that only made you seethe more at the fact that Tom had been bluffing the whole time. It had clearly just been a fear tactic, probably done for no other reason than to fuck with you on your birthday and ruin your night. He loved crafting little games like that, this being the first time he’d come to play in person—and what made you angriest is that it had worked.

“Honey, we have a gift for you,” your mom said, handing you a silver box that was much heavier than it looked. She and your dad sat on the big sofa in the den, looking at you expectantly.

“Well, open it!” she smiled.

You undid the box, hands still shaking from earlier, and found a shiny, pitch black glock with a silver inscription in its body reading “sweet pea”, the nickname your dad had given you forever ago.

“Uh, wow, I don't know what to say...” you trailed off, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. It became surprisingly weightless, feeling like it was made to fit in your palm.

“It was mine, back in the day,” your dad spoke, seeming wistful. “Had it rebuilt and shined up for my baby girl.”

“Thank you, daddy, I love it,” you said, leaning over to hug your parents. You smiled blankly as they talked to you about the gift and how special it was, nodding at their comments...but you weren’t really listening.

All you could think about was a pair of flushed lips inches from your own, an intoxicating smell lingering in your brain; and just how amazing this gun would feel in your hand right after it had burned a bullet-sized cavity into Tom Holland’s chest.

[awanderingdeal]

Summer camp AU - Chapter 2 - Sirius

Hello, hello, welcome back to Gryffindor. This chapter finds us with Sirius. This one is a bit angsty again, but there’s also lots of happy points. I promise we will have some fun camp type stuff next chapter!

CW: Sirius does misgender Reg for most of this chapter in his internal monologue as he does not know that Regulus has changed his pronouns. It is not intentional and Sirius does switch pronouns both verbally and mentally as soon as he is aware. Just in case that makes anybody uncomfy. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful betas for catching all my 3am mistakes (and also, just my complete inability to grammar).

And finally, thank you to @lumosinlove for the creation of the sweater weather universe. It honestly is a light in my life. 

Fic Rating: T

For previous and future chapters see masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius was pulled from the depth of his thoughts by two short vibrations pulsing through his hands. He glanced down at his phone and felt the corner of his mouth pull up at the name, Mon Loup. Remus was always checking up on him. 

Are you okay? Is he there?

Sirius didn’t know how to answer the first question. He didn’t know how he was feeling. The last thing he had expected when they had gotten in the car that morning was to be seeing his brother's name next to his on the room allocations. His mind had spun through a rollercoaster of emotions: anger, guilt, joy, anger, confusion. Luckily, Remus had been there to notice the impending meltdown and had wrapped his arms around him and told him that it was going to be fine. And somehow Sirius had believed him. 

He took a minute to compose his reply, knowing that trying to lie to Remus about his mental state was futile.

I’m...coping. No, he’s not. No bags either. 

Sirius wished that Remus could be here with him. However, his boyfriend had just graduated with his BSN and was now a paid member of staff on the nursing team. Along with the extra responsibility came his own cabin. Sirius had insisted he went and settled in there. His phone buzzed again.

I told you, he’s probably just as worried about seeing you. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s more than just a product of your parents. 

Sirius hated when Remus was logical like that. He was right though, something must have changed. There was no way that his biological parents would approve of Regulus’ coming here. “Merde!” Sirius groaned, flopping backwards onto the bed. He’d been through this a thousand times with his therapist. He’d tried to take Regulus with him. Regulus hadn’t wanted to come. Besides, he was still a minor and there was no way he could have gotten the evidence to get Regulus out of there legally. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn't his fault. 

It’s not your fault, baby. You know that.

How did Remus always know? Sirius glanced at the time on his phone, 12.05. He worried about where Regulus was and if he wasn’t staying in this cabin, then had he found somewhere else to sleep? The big brother in him would never completely go. The backpack on the floor caught his eye. I might as well start unpacking, Sirius thought. 

The time passed quickly and soon the alarm that he'd set for 12.50 was sounding. He had managed to get all of his clothes into the drawers under the bed and pinned the photo of him and Remus to the wall. He’d tucked his drawing pad under the pillow. There was only one thing missing. 

Sirius took a deep breath, grabbing his smaller daypack and headed back to the main stage where they had been gathered before Dumo had dismissed them all. He was scanning the slowly forming crowd for the familiar features of his brother when a body barrelled into his back.

“Dude! I just saw your twin, I swear.” 

The voice belonged to James Potter. They had only met last year - at this very camp - but Sirius already felt like he had known him a lifetime. 

“Jeez, Potter. My ears,” Sirius moaned, shoving his friend lightly. “Attends...What did you just say?”

“Jeez,” James mocked Sirius’ acquisition of his boyfriend’s mannerisms. “There’s somebody here who looks exactly like you.” 

“Regulus.” Sirius gasped, his eyes darting over the crowd again.

“Who’s Reg-” James started and then his hand was hitting Sirius’ arm as realisation dawned on him. “Your brother.”

Sirius could only give a slow nod. 

“Do you need...I can tell him to stay away from you if you want?” James’ eyebrows knitted into a frown. 

This time Sirus shook his head quickly, “Non. No, I want to see him. I need to see him.” Sirius hadn’t even realised himself that was what he wanted until that moment. 

“Oh,” James said and turned abruptly to face the ever growing group of people. “He was just there, I swear. We can go find him.”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply when Dumo’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd, “Hello everyone, thank you for being back on time.” 

James gave a distressed noise and Sirius squeezed his arm reassuringly. He loved that his friend hadn’t even questioned his desire to find Regulus.  Sirius had wanted something and James was ready to make it happen. 

Sirius tuned back into Dumo’s instructions, “ - lunch until 14.00 and then we will begin with some icebreakers. Finally, this evening we will have an in depth tour of the camp followed by a game of capture the flag. Only so that you know how to play for when the campers come, of course. We won’t have a campfire tonight, I know many of you have travelled from afar and will want to get to bed early. But be prepared because I want all of you ready with your singing voices, tomorrow.”

James had apparently forgotten about his troubles because he was excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Come on,” Sirius said, “Let’s go and eat. It’s not as if Regulus is going anywhere.”

The lunch hall was a chaos of noise and Sirius allowed himself to be swept up in it. The empty table that they found was soon filled. Lily arrived first pressing a kiss first to James' forehead and then Sirius'.

"Lily! I missed you so much. How did you find us?" James grinned.

Lily rolled her eyes, "darling, it has only been two hours since I last saw you. And how many other people have tie dyed their t-shirts?" 

James looked down at the purple, black and white swirls on his t-shirt proudly, causing Sirius to smile fondly. 

“Who are you sharing your cabin with?” Sirius asked, using his hands to compress the monstrosity of a sandwich that he had created before dipping it into his chicken soup. 

“That is so gross,” Lily grimaced at the action. “Now your lettuce is all soggy. And to answer your question, it’s Natalie. You know, Darcy. Tall, blonde, formidable. She’ll be over in a minute. Think she was just waiting for her boyfriend.”

As if on cue, Natalie appeared, placing her tray down next to Lily before rounding the table and wrapping her arms around Sirius and kissing his earlobe. He would have been startled had it been anybody else but he regularly received semi-threatening texts from her telling him to have Remus check his voicemails. “That is from your boyfriend. He said he misses you. Which is gross but I was bribed with cake.” Natalie said, gesturing to the two slices of cake on her tray. 

“Who’s the rookie?” James asked through a mouthful of food, looking at the red headed boy who had just sat down next to Kasey, Natalie’s boyfriend. 

The boy waved casually at the table, seeming very relaxed for a new counsellor, “I’m Alex. And technically, I’m not a rookie. Done a few camps down in Tampa, but I thought I’d join my brother, Finn, here at Queer camp this summer.” 

“Oh, I think I sa-" James began, but was interrupted by Lily’s squeal of excitement. 

"Marl! Dory!" Lily called across the hall attracting the attention of two girls. They made their way over seeing Lily’s wave, followed closely by two other counsellors. 

"Everybody, this is Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas. Marl was my little sister at college." Lily introduced them to the table. 

They both flashed a smile and Marlene titled her head towards the two timid looking boys behind them, "We said Ollie and Timmy here could sit with us. It’s their first year too." 

They all found a seat and the usual round of questions began. Despite Sirius' attempts to listen to where everybody was working in the camp, his mind was drifting to thoughts of his brother. 

He felt James' hand gently touch his wrist and when Sirius turned to look at him, James mouthed, " You okay?" 

Sirius nodded, "I'm fine." He realised that he had reached the end of his soup and the fact he was now trying to spoon air into his mouth was probably what had attracted James' concern. "Oh. In my own world, I guess," he said quietly. 

Sirius pulled himself upright, "I'm just going to get a fork," he added more loudly and climbed off the bench. He could have eaten the cake with a spoon, but he wanted a minute to text Remus without being chirped by his friends. Crossing the busy hall with his head down was always going to be a mistake and he found himself colliding with another body as he approached the cutlery trays. 

“I’m so sorry!” Sirius apologised, cringing at the sensation of warm soup seeping through his t-shirt. “I was just -” he started, but as he lifted his head he was met with hauntingly familiar grey eyes.

“Reggie,” Sirius breathed, the nickname slipping out of his mouth. 

He received no reply.

“Regulus? Are you okay?” a tall blond boy that Sirius didn’t recognise asked.

Regulus didn’t get to answer this time even if he had wanted to as an older man, maybe in his 40’s appeared and said gruffly, “Is all alright here?” 

“Yes, yes, we are fine thank you,” Sirius answered. “It was my fault, I wasn’t looking.” 

“Be more careful, Black,” the man said. Sirius managed to pull his eyes away from his brother to look at the name tag. Sergei. 

“Be nice to the kids please, Sergei,” Dumo spoke lightly, a small smile resting on his lips. Sirius swore that the man had appeared out of nowhere.

“You always play favourites, Dumasha,” Sergei grumbled. “He is making a mess of my -”

“Could I just talk to my brother, please!” Sirius snapped. 

“Not your brother,” Regulus said, the sound barely audible.

“Reggie, please. Just let me...” Sirius began. He just wanted a chance to explain how he tried to take Regulus with him, but it hadn’t been possible. To explain that Sirius had needed to get free himself before he could help Regulus and then by the time he was set up, Regulus had been the one to reject him.

“I don’t think they are objecting to talking to you,” the blond boy interrupted. “I think they mean that they are your sibling. Not your brother. Is that correct, Reg?” 

Regulus nodded slowly, fingers clenched tightly around the empty tray in his hands.

“Not my bro-” Sirius’s eyes caught the nametag clipped to Regulus’ t-shirt. He hadn’t looked at it before. They/Them. “Oh. Ohh. I’m sorry, Reggie. I didn’t mean to…”

Regulus cut him off. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” they said. 

“Still, I’m sorry,” Sirius sighed. “Look, Regulus. Could we talk? Preferably without all these other people?” he asked, his voice hopeful. Sirius turned his gaze to the boy that he didn't recognize, “Who are you anyway?” 

“Leo Knut. Regulus’ roommate. I’ll leave you two to talk if that is what Regulus wants?”

Sirius wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch the guy or hug him for protecting his sibling. 

Regulus gave another nod, more sure than the one they gave earlier. “Go and eat, Leo. Sirius and I should talk. It was always going to have to happen at some point if I stay, eh?”

Sirius took the opportunity to look at Regulus properly. They looked almost identical to when Sirius had last seen them. Only taller. And they held themselves differently. Somehow it was meekier and yet more sure of themselves. Just as Sirius was about to spiral into a mess of thoughts about what he’d left Regulus to face by themself, Dumo cleared his throat. 

“Okay, me and Sergei will clean up this mess. Sirius, I think you should get a clean t-shirt. Regulus, go and make yourself another sandwich. Then we’ll find you somewhere quiet to talk.”

Regulus smiled, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Sirius let out a breath that he hadn’t realised he was holding, “Yeah, me too.”

[steverogersbingo]

✨ STEVE ROGER BINGO’S ROUND UP - POST 1 ✨

Check out the fills our participants posted from the first month under the cut!

🎨 ART

heaven isn't in the sky (it's underwater) by agron T // Steve/Tony // Mermaids Summary: when steve went underwater he was discovered by three mermaid tony stark instead

Untitled by ABrighterDarkness G // Steve/Bucky // Alpine Summary: Steve and Bucky get distracted, Alpine enjoys every minute.

Space Stone by AriaFandom G // Gen // Moodboard Summary: Galaxy aesthetic for the space stone

Untitled by sanguineterrain G // Gen Summary: Magical, canon-divergent Steve

Untitled by call-me-kayyyyy G // Steve/Bucky // AU; Fantasy; Loin-cloths Summary: Steve and Bucky are elf's who ride their unicorns to check the perimeter.

Steve Rogers becomes Cernunnos by pinkybitesu T // Gen // AU Summary: Steve had always felt connected to the Earth. Becoming the God of the Forest, Cernunnos, made it all make sense.

"That Is America's Ass." by bleedxblack T // Steve/Bucky Summary: Steve Rogers straddles Bucky's waist with booty shorts that read "it ain't gonna spank himself".

📝 FIC

Clean Up These Bloody Fists by dontcallmebree E // 8,657 // Steve/Bucky // Shrunkyclunks; Mob AU Summary: Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s unendingly generous with his care for those around him, or if Bucky’s simply been lucky enough to scale the wall built up over decades, and had somehow proven himself worthy of the affection. Either way, he knows he’ll never take this for granted. Spend some time with Steve and Bucky this week in the perpetually fluffy ‘verse of Do The Things You Never Showed Nobody.

Scars by Kimberly T // 1,888 // Steve/Bucky // Post-CATWS Summary: The serum means that Steve can't scar anymore, though he's retained his pre-existing scarring. While in the hospital recovering from the fight on the helicarrier, Steve does a little introspection about this. It's bittersweet.

Without Regret by ABrighterDarkness E // 5,284 // Steve/Thor Summary: It had been a very long time since Steve had last felt like this. There was a buzz in his mind and tingling through his body. His movements were just slightly slower, clumsier and his were words spoken a little more loosely with a tongue that felt more weighty than it ought to. Even that, though, felt different than the last time that he’d had the opportunity to overindulge with a friend.

Love and Learning by ABrighterDarkness T // 7,746 // Steve/Natasha Summary: It reminded him, a little bit, of stepping into a machine seeing everything in varying shades of grey. Only to stumble out again into a world of color more vibrant than anything he could have possibly imagined. Overwhelming but entirely breathtaking and welcome.

Good by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier T // 1,062 // Steve/Bucky/Tony Summary: Steve returns to the compound and finds that the two men he loves, but never told his feelings to, are a couple now.

Lie to Me by Kit T // 2,102 // Steve/Bucky // Body Swap Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Steve and Natasha end up trapped in the others body. Instead of telling everybody, they make a bet. Who will be able to conceal their identity the longest?

Dream a Little Dream of Me by buckybleeds E // 5,719 // Steve/Bucky // Dub-con; Self-cest Summary: Steve goes back in time to comfort himself after Bucky fell and ends up having sex with himself. 

Pride by Kit T // 1,726 // Steve/Bucky Summary: Tony wants to take Steve to pride to watch him freak out. Natasha tags along to do damage control.

Take Care of You by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier M // 1,756 // Steve/Bucky // Daddy Kink; Age Difference; AU Summary: Steve has been so busy with his work as a commander at shield lately, that he has barely had time for his partner Bucky. Bucky’s worried his Daddy might not want him anymore and Steve has to rectify this by showing how much he loves his baby.

Love Has Left a Printed Trace by Girl_Back_There E // 1,726 // Steve/Bucky // Vampires; Dub-con Summary: Steve is obsessed with finding a mysterious figure named Winter in paintings throughout the years. James is a Vampire named Winter charged with keeping Vampires a secret from humanity.

with the weight of the world at the tips of my fingers by avintagekiss24 E // 4,420 // Steve/Reader // AU Summary: You and Steve share a morning in bed.

Always You by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier M // 1,691 // Steve/Bucky // AU Summary: After a year of traveling, Steve finally comes home and confesses his feelings to Bucky.

Stop the World by Rex E // 6,828 // Steve/Scott // AU Summary: When Steve got hired to entertain at Cassie Lang's thirteenth birthday party, he had thought it was going to be like every other kid's party he'd booked. He'd show up, play Captain America, get paid, and go home. He never quite gets to that last step, but to be fair, there was no way he could have anticipated the draw of Scott Lang.

Always by Rex G // 437 // Steve/Matt Murdock // Canon Divergence Summary: Even the Devil of Hell's Kitchen needs an angel from time to time. This one just happens to be from Brooklyn.

Glass by Rex M // 859 // Gen // Non-graphic torture; Implied non-con; Referenced suicide Summary: "We'll lose." "Then we'll do that together, too." Sokovia crashed, Ultron won, and he always had hated Tony the most.

We are already home by Bitters E // 4,948 // Steve/Bucky Summary: Steve carries an injured Bucky through a portal into…somewhere else? But they’re together, like they always have been, and that’s all that matters.

end of the line, time to go home. by moonythejedi394 M // 3,484 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence; Daddy Kink; Age Play/Regression Summary: Steve and Bucky always said they were together 'til the end of the line. But even they have to get off the train eventually. Everybody always figures, at the end of the line is... Y'know. The End. But actually, at the end of the line is happily ever after. It just took them a few decades and a couple suitcases of trauma to get there.

Not Technically A Bromance by dontcallmebree M // 8,657 // Steve/Bucky Summary: “A bromance?” Bruce asks, voice tinged with restrained laughter. “Yeah, we have one of those.” Steve glowers at Bruce, who’s patently laughing at him, eyes bright and twinkling with mirth. Bruce composes himself, biting at his bottom lip. “And you’ve had sex how many times?” (Inspired by that tweet, you know the one.)

At the Top of My Lungs by ralsbecket T // 1,646 // Steve/Tony Summary: Two months had passed since Tony had lost his life; since they had laid him to rest six feet under. It was two months of trying to keep his world from further falling apart, and it wasn’t really working in his favor. So, no. No, he wasn’t okay.

Thor’s Art Class for the Heroes of Midgard by WinterSabbath T // 6,338 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: In which Thor makes it his mission to help mend the broken, cold relationship between Steven and James through the only way he can think of: Art class. As a bonus, he also helps the team loosen up.

So Let It Happen by Bitters E // 2,287 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: Steve comes home from a tough mission and needs to get out of his head. His husband and retired Avenger is only too happy to help him with this.

Made of Glass (The Way You See Through Me) by ralsbecket T // 1,132 // Steve/Tony // AU Summary: Steve wasn’t sure what came over him when the model walked out from the back room, wearing a robe; from the moment his eyes landed on his face, he was just… awestruck. Dark hair, bright eyes, full lips. He was fucking beautiful. Or, the one where Tony is the model in Steve's life-drawing class.

for your cooperation by xceru E // 3,145 // Steve/Nat // Canon Divergence Summary: Hydra kidnaps Natasha on a routine mission in Cairo. When Steve finds her, Natasha decides that it's his turn to play prisoner.

my heart in the still winter air by xceru E // 11,887 // Steve/Bucky/Nat // Canon Divergence Summary: “He will,” Steve says, and suddenly Natasha understands. This is the man that Steve altered his heart for, the one he thought only the serum could love. But now Steve knows better—he knows he’s bisexual—he knows his love is real, and the man that it belongs to is undead.

Won't Let Go by afalsebravado E // 2,358 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: Steve is on the hunt for the Winter Sold-- Bucky. He's on the hunt for Bucky when the leads dry up and he heads home to regroup. But a package from Tony Stark arrives on his doorstep and makes him re-evaluate old promises.

The Truth of Who I Am by hawkeyeandthewintersoldier T // 1,203 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: Steve Rogers is not a cis straight man and he is tired of people erasing that and other parts of his identity so he fits into the image they already had of him.

Bruise of a Rose by marvelousmoons G // 1,710 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence Summary: It’s moments like this that get under his skin the most. The way Steve can just… be Steve. Be dramatic and give Bucky the cold shoulder for simply caring. But Bucky was stronger. He could play Steve’s game. He wouldn’t cave, no. He would sit and wait for the silence to overwhelm Steve first.

... And all I got was this lousy t-shirt by RainbowNerds M // 3,126 // Steve/Bucky // AU Summary: A month ago, Steve had the best sex of his life with a guy he met in a bar, and went home with the most hideous shirt he'd ever seen but no phone number. Enter his new roommate, Becca. The two instances are not connected, right?

Love you too, jerk by WinterRaven G // 636 // Steve/Bucky // Canon Divergence; Fanart included Summary: Steve makes breakfast for Bucky and their 'kids' help him wake up his husband.

[fishylife]

Street Dance of China Season 4, Episode 5

- I love practice montages! I was surprised that we got to see the process of each of the captains (of the competing teams) choosing dancers to their teams. Ibuki and Ma Xiaolong were speaking English to each other, and I don’t doubt that English was probably the main mode of communication across borders for these dancers.

- Okay Ibuki leading Huang Xiao by hand and then Huang Xiao cackling in glee and hugging Ma Xiaolong....very cute.

- So...is Huang Xiao baby?

- Huehuehue love Poppin’C’s laugh

- Ibuki said that Ma Xiaolong helped her a lot with recruitment. I think that’s for two reasons. One is that Ma Xiaolong (and Huang Xiao) are choreographers, so they have a better idea of what styles look together. The other is that Ma Xiaolong knows the Chinese dancers better than she would.

- Moony was saying how Ibuki is the captain but she is the youngest, and is definitely very cute haha.

- Yang Kai was very worried about dancing to a rap song so he recruited as many choreographers as he could. But the issue was that they all had different approaches to choreographing so they spent a lot of time discussing before choreographing and rehearsing.

- Yang Kai deadass brought his laptop to the hotpot restaurant because he was going to turn dinner into a lesson on Three Kingdoms for Boris and Kenken lol. The name of their song was Chitu, which is the horse of Lv Bu. Basically Chitu was just a great super capable horse and that’s why it was so famous lol. Yang Kai was trying to compare their battle to the Three Kingdoms lmao. Kenken was Zhuge Liang, Ibuki was Cao Cao (LMAO), and Chitu Ma was a Ferrari lol. Not gonna lie though, the stories in Three Kingdoms are pretty iconic lol.

- In terms of the performances, I liked them both! I think that Team Ibuki’s performance was very fun in the sense that it was like a story. I don’t think songs like that are popular dance songs, so I really liked seeing how they choreographed the dance and I felt that it was done in a very creative and fun way. I think where it may have fallen short was the cohesion. I like Poppin’C, but I wonder if it was difficult to fit him in because his skill set was so specific. As well, because all of the dancers were wearing different clothes, it was a bit difficult to see their synchronization during the group dance parts. For Team Yang Kai’s performance, it definitely was extremely hype. Whereas Team Ibuki wore different clothes, Team Yang Kai had a dress code so the cohesion was easy to see. But I feel like Team Yang Kai’s performance was being propped up by the fact that it had a very hype song, one that easy to dance to.

- Rochka continues to be the biggest fanboy of every single person on this show. I love him!!!

- Y’all have no idea how much I love hearing Boris speak Chinese. Yes, he has an accent, but he is also very easy to understand. You have no idea how difficult it is to find non-ethnic Chinese people who speak Chinese this fluently. Iunno, he just makes Mandarin seem so much more approachable. Boris said that he’d been in China for 7 years so it makes sense that he feels so confident speaking. A lot of people who are learning languages have to get over that hump where they stop feeling embarrassed about their accent because they have to go out and live their life and buy groceries and go to the doctor and stuff and it’s really interesting to hear Boris expressing himself.

- Henry feeling so pressured when he had to choose which team to pick lmao.

- Yixing went “We’re looking at you because you’re cute!” So bold, Yixing XD

- And Henry went “I feel pressured because you guys are handsome.” XD Two can play at that.

- Then Han Geng went “Henry’s Chinese is so good now!” XD My mom says that to me when I make a good joke in Chinese.

- Yixing has to talk behind his clipboard because he’s so nervous lmfao.

- So the rule is that one judge gets two votes for each matchup. In addition to that, that judge has to cut three members, two to enter a battle and one to be eliminated immediately, not including the captain.

- Ibuki was so upset when she returned to her seat :(

- Ye Yin had his team draw out their feelings as they listened to their assigned song. I thought it was a bit gimmicky, but this visual is cute.

- I thought Team Ye Yin’s performance was cool considering this was a song that would be difficult to choreograph for. I was surprised with how the incorporated breaking and locking elements, as there are breaking and locking experts on their team. But overall I thought the choreography was so nice. It told a story, and it suited the vibe of the song. Props to Bunta for the awesome choreography.

- Han Geng said that their performance reminded him of his youth, and then Henry said that he felt the same, that the performance reminded him of Geng-ge. He was like “ge, do you remember?“ and Geng-ge was like of course! Han Geng said he remembered their romantic days X’D So unnecessary. At one point the director was like did Han Geng and Henry used to have their arms around each other’s shoulders? And both of them were like uhh yeah all the time dude.

- George was asked about his rivalry with C-Lil because they keep getting stuck together lol. Apparently C-Lil became a tea enthusiast which was cute.

- Yuwan clapping his hands while his arms around C-Lil :3

- Team Liangliang’s performance was cut because apparently it was not very good, and the editors cut it out to prevent them from getting haters. I think Liangliang’s Sun Wukong headgear had obstructed his vision, and Yixing said that the performance wasn’t very in sync. A pity :(

- Gogo Brothers’ team is stack af.

- Gogo Brothers + Hilty & Bosch hotel room conference lol.

- AC went for a waacking + krump combo which is cool! Their performance was extremely aesthetically pleasing. Even though the fire power is perhaps less explosive, they worked together as a team very well. I definitely thought the waacking and the krump complemented each other very well.

- AC bought snail noodles for his team members, and apparently it’s one of those very polarizing foods, but Chika really liked it haha.

- Ohh, you know this is gonna be good.

- Team Gogo Brothers’ performance was good, but at the same time...there wasn’t anything new about it? Since there were five lockers on the, most of the performance was going to be high quality locking, but at the same time, the locking kind of overshadowed any attempt to try anything new. It was still good though, I just felt that it had limitations compared to AC’s performance that did something new with combining styles, both in terms of dance and aesthetics (costumes).

- Love to see the baby smile v.v

- Lmao Xiao Jie said that Xiaohai was the good luck charm of their team XD His good luck charm name is Jr. Baby, aka Haibaobao lol

- Yibo and Yixing voted for Gogo Brothers, and Han Geng voted for AC, so Henry, who had two votes, had the final say in who would win this battle. Then we got the theatrics where Han Geng, Yibo, and Yixing went into the audience because their job was done lol.

- Then Henry was like “ge~~~~ didn’t you say you would take care of me?” And Han Geng’s like, I’m letting you have the SDOC experience bro.

- Even though we all know it’s a joke, Han Geng is still so caring and affectionate lol.

- Anyway, after all that shenaniganery, what Henry said was right. It feels so tough eliminating any single member of the team, because it was all of them who helped deliver such a beautiful performance. I know AC had a tough time going up against Gogo brothers but dammit I actually super loved their performance. So cruel!!!!!

- Han Geng felt bad because Auju had said he wanted to be in a solo battle in the 3 vs 3 challenge, but he was put in the 5 vs. 5 battle and then this group performance, so Han Geng wanted to let him have the stage to perform his best. I thought it was a nice gesture, to let him have the stage to show off in the way he was most confident with, to let himself show himself at his best.

- Then Henry was like “what if we had Auju AND Yixing????”

- And then Boi Marble joined!!! Krumptastic

- Yixing said that even though krumpers look really fierce, that aside from the krump, all of them are lil cuties uwu.

- Team Nelson having fun with Hanfu was so cute! :D Sometimes with the non-Chinese contestants, I worry that they find the Chinese culture stuff tedious, because SDOC does try to fit as much culture in. So I’m glad to see that they’re at least finding a way to have fun. I wish I had such pretty hanfu to dress up in v.v

- I’ll be honest though, I don’t think Nelson’s team was very synchronized. He had a lot of very good individual dancers (Bouboo, Zyko, Lil Kev, that firepower is undeniable), but there were parts when I felt like all of the dancers were doing their own thing. Maybe the choreography was too subtle, or maybe the dancers themselves had slightly different rhythms.

- Acky-san giving red pockets to his team, but instead of money, he wrote them letters in different languages T_T

- A full popping team is risky move, but it paid off. Everybody was popping so everybody was dancing to their strength. Compare that to some of the other teams, where there were some dancers who clearly were lagging because they were dancing to a style they were very comfortable with. In addition, the visual style of the performance was fresh and fun. Their costumes were very wacky and fun to look at, and their performance exuded the kind of fun vibes where you felt like you wanted to join them.

- Out of the captains who’d lost their challenges, they would have to battle each other in a round robin style tournament. First place would get to keep two of their "pending” members, and second place would get to keep one.

- Yixing got up SO FAST when Tell Me started playing. I didn’t know this song before so I looked it up and it is a bop haha.

- Yixing dancing along uwu I don’t know the name of this song but it was the second song in the Ibuki vs. Liangliang battle.

- AC vs. Ibuki dancing to It’s Raining Men was A LOT of fun, particularly because everybody including the spectators knew the song haha.

- The first place winner was Nelson who was able to save Tengzai and Lil Kev and the second place winner was AC who could only choose one person to save, and AC chose Fanfan.

- Ma Xiaolong and Huang Xiao comforting Ibuki because she couldn’t save her team members :(

- Ahh I’m going to miss Yuri because she was so cute and fun. AC apologized for not being able to save her :( Gonna miss u bb ;(

- I liked Latrice too T_T Hated to see her go :(

- Brats playing with the microphones. They basically disassembled their standing microphones and waved the part around even after Han Geng already told Yibo not to lmao.

- So this section was supposed to be the captains’ opportunity to tell the dancers what kind of team they were looking to put together. Yixing was so surprised because Han Geng and Yibo had very simple and short statements (though it took a while for Han Geng to get to his point), because the boy deadass prepared a speech. Of course he did.

- Yang Kai said that his speech sounded like a motivational speech from a boss at work. That’s exactly what it is.

- Apparently Henry also prepared a speech XD

- So from what I understand, the captains will recruit a team that they think represents their style. Afterwards, the dancers who have not been chosen will get to choose their team based on which captain’s style they like. I think that’s how it works, we’ll see if I’m right lol.

- Henry trying to gleam information X3 Yibo just deals with the pressure by smiling and shaking his head. Dare I say this is the first time I’ve seen Yibo look shy??????? It’s cuuuute.

- Since the cubicles don’t have ceilings, Henry was like someone could be watching me!

- Nosy housecat in training

- Yibo and Henry and Han Geng were playing mind games being like “oh, you picked Poppin’C? And Yixing fell for the trick ^^;; Luckily he was not allowed to change his answer so at least he’s not going to make a change he regrets lol.

- All of the dancers Yixing picked were not picked by anyone else so he was quite lucky.

- Han Geng had three of his choices matching with Henry or Yibo.

- Henry has no idea how to recruit dancers so he just ends up singing love songs. Of course.

- Zyko’s loyal dude XD I can see why Han Geng is a safe choice though. Han Geng is low on the theatrics, so if I was a low key guy like Zyko, I’d probably feel less pressure being on his team. I could just focus on dance and not on entertaining the cameras.

- I can see why Nelson would go with Yibo. Yibo is quiet but he’s serious and focused and more importantly they both confirmed that they are competitors.

- Henry and Han Geng both chose Ibuki. Here Han Geng is patiently waiting/spying while Ibuki and Henry have their interview.

- Then he was offered a ladder and Geng-ge became the biggest gremlin lmao.

- Yixing the good little helper.

- C U T I E

- When Han Geng was having his interview with Ibuki, he locked the ladder in his own room and kept the key. Then he stole the keys from all the other rooms and gave them to Henry XD Actual troll-ge.

- Ibuki chose Han Geng in the end.

- So all of the people Henry chose picked other captains. This frame lmfao.

- I think last season Yixing had tons of trouble recruiting dancers to his team. In the hotpot preview he said he was super lax about this year and it worked in his favour.

[doubleshotofsomething]

Come Into My Life

This is my entry for @nekoannie-chan​‘s writing challenge. Congratulations on 500followers :D! Thank you so much for letting me participate!

This is a series. The remaining parts will be posted throughout the day. It is a Thor fanfic with a song prompt “Entra en mi Vida” (its a beautiful song, i highly recommend).

Song Prompt: Entra en mi Vida by Sin Bandera 

Warnings: swearing, like a lot of it. Mentions of human experimentation. that’s it?? Also, people are idiots here, folks. bare with me.

Summary: You live in a world where soulmates don’t exist. Like, at all. All that meant to be, fate has chosen nonsense? Not real. Literal, actual, from-the-TV-screen fairytale. So... why is the God of Thunder convinced that you’re his?

Part One: Entra en mi vida, te abro la puerta

"So—" You clear your throat, throwing yourself onto the only empty seat, "—all jokes aside, guys. What the fuck!"

Everyone blinks at you, drinks in their hands and confusion all over their faces.

You stare back at them, completely dismissing the new sets of eyes staring at you. "No, seriously, like what the fuck?" You reiterate. "Like, no guys, this fuck needs an answer. What the fuck."

"Are we supposed to know what this fuck is?" Ghost asks, the first among the group of five to surpass her confusion. "Because I have a what the fuck for that what the fuck."

You reach over to grab her drink and she – having been used to your antics after three years of friendship – moves it closer for you to grab. You take a sip, let the taste of her chamomile tea settle on your tongue, blanch and give it back.

"So, you know how the Avengers got their asses whipped after they pulled a deadbeat dad, right?" You make grabby hands towards Hope's drink, and she – just like Ghost – pushes it over to you.

"Careful," she grimaces, "it has a kick to it."

"So did Thanos," You mumble as you take a sip of her drink. The espresso sits heavily on your tongue and you swear you can feel it stain your teeth. "What the actual fuck, Hope? What is this? And why does it not have sugar?"

She chooses to roll her eyes at you and mimic the remaining two new faces by staying quiet. Her eyes narrow at you in warning.

"Don't get a tude with me, missy—" You wag your finger at her, “—you're the one that MIA'd for five years without a return address and pissed off the Feds. Like, seriously, what the fuck guys? We had plans and everything! Why the fuck would you leave me alone for that long? You know how I get when I'm not forced to socialise!"

Ghost snorts. "Don't be a baby."

Pouting, because you’re very mature, you feign a sniffle and stick your tongue out at her. "Weeeeeh."

The dude with the annoyingly short blond hair snorts, consequently gaining your attention, and tries to hide his smile with his cup.

"You're new," you narrow your eyes at him. "Why are you new? And why do you look like the dude that owes me 12K for wrecking my car?"

"Oh my god—" Ghost grumbles in the background, "—not this again."

"I have bills and crippling debts and things that need to be paid for, Ghost!"

"You're a trust fund baby, you shithead!" She argues. "You don't know what crippling debt looks like!"

"You don't know that! My investment portfolio has been crumbling since the stock market crashed last year due to the recession."

Sam grins cheekily at you. "You have no idea what you just said, do you?"

Huffing and puffing, all you can say is. "Let's go back to the what the fuck that needs to be discussed." You glare at him pointedly, "then maybe, we can discuss why you're still here and why you came back from ashes."

"I know you missed me, cupcake." The evil bastard reaches over and pinches your cheek.

"I miss dancing on your grave," You try to swat his hand away, "now, thanks to your selfishness, I need a new dance floor. Very rude of you to not stay dead."

"You're adorable."

"As I was whatting the fucks," You turn back to Hope and Ghost, "when the fuck did my life become Thor versus Thanos, and why am I the Thor without the hammer to fight Thanos?"

"Is that your what the fuck?"  Ghost frowns.

It's her turn to get glared at. "Don't act like you haven't seen the footage. You know exactly how badly Thor got yeeted off his high horse. I'm only regretful that Captain Wrecking Ball wasn't knocked off his."

"You know he's over here, right?" Hope, ever the oblivious one to your obvious jabs, points at the dude that wrecked your car.

"Yeah, unlike my car and the check he has yet to hand over but hey—" lifting up the cup of espresso, you grin at her "—when life gives you lemons."

"I'm still confused and offended about the Thanos reference." Sam, the gift from the bad side of Pandora's box, begins. "What do we have to do with your life?"

"What does pulling a deadbeat dad mean?" The other new dude asks, his face is both the definition of confused and annoyed. "And what does it have to do with the Avengers?"

You frown. "Now I'm confused—"

"Oh no—" Ghost grimaces.

"—Why do you look like the dude from Gossip Girl but also like the dude on the UN's wanted poster of 20something?" You turn to Sam for assistance. "Doesn't he look like that old geezer from the museum?"

Sam grins, leans back in his seat to take a proper look at the manbun dude. Your table is the round one placed at the corner – the irony – and, until recently, it has always been occupied by the four of you. That was before they decided to ghost you for half a decade.

 "Now that you mention it—"

"Oh, fuck off." Manbun snaps at Sam, and you swear you've never fallen in love faster in your entire life than you have in that moment.

Your grin is wide and shit-eating as you put the cup down. You extend your hand to Manbun and wiggle your freshly painted — somehow chapped – fingers.

"I'd tell you my name but it's better if you just called me sweetheart," You’re still grinning. "What's your sign and what time can you pick me up?"

He blinks at you, still confused, and frowns at your hand. Slowly, because you’re a patient girl, you lean over and pry his left hand away from his cup. You place your palm in his and wrap your fingers around each other.

"I'd ask for your name but I think I'll settle for calling you babe," You shake his hand, and then place it back on the cup. "Or hun. I'd call you handsome, but that's too tacky and we—” You point between the both of you, " – don't do tacky."

You sit back in your seat and glance at Sam. "Well... Most of the time anyway."

At this, the rest of your life flashes you a grin. "How does eight o'clock sound?"

"It sounds like a recipe for disaster." Ghost cuts in, narrowing her eyes at you. "Back off, shithead. You've hurt enough of my coworkers"

Jaw dropping and shock feigning, you gasp. "How is that my fault?"

"Is that joke?" Ghost frowns, "because I feel like it's a joke. Three incidences with the analysts and five tech support team make it look like a joke."

You scoff at that. "Look, if your little back up boys can't handle the essence of a real woman, then that's not my fault." Confidently – and silently annoyed – you also add. "Plus, I actually did SHIELD, or whatever ridiculous name you're calling the remake of a failed organisation, a favour. If your boys behind the boys in spandex can't handle being told off by a 'mouse' as they call us, then they shouldn't be behind the dude that wrecked my car.

 "But now that I've said that out loud—" You pause, "—I finally understand why the Avengers are so bad at their job. I mean, with such poor support systems, it's no wonder boy blue and red uses cars as a landing mechanism. It's almost as if he's never heard of a parachute."

There's a pregnant pause as you pretend to ponder the situation. The new dude with the blond hair has visibly turned red and is shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Manbun has a very permanent looking frown smeared all over his face and you’re pretty sure you've just ruined whatever chances you had of giving him children. And Sam, because he's Sam and is patiently waiting his turn to roast you, has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

Ghost pretends to scowl at you, even though you’re pretty sure she's already drawing up the schematics for the pedestal she's about to build for you. Hope, because she's Hope and has first-hand experience of dealing with spoilt little brats that use creative antics to slowly drive people away, decides to use that exact moment to sigh and expose you.

"Hey sweetheart," she begins in that voice of betrayal. "Can you, like, not be an antisocial, territorial pain in the ass for five minutes and be nice? Stop trying to get our guests to leave with your little mind games, yeah?"

You blink at her. Once, twice. Because the betrayal always takes a few moments to sink in.

"They're not mind games." You retort. "Boy Blue over there did wreck my car. He used it to cushion his fall, because apparently the super-secret organisation that harbours entitled idiots doesn't invest in parachutes."

"But you don't even need that 12K—"

"I didn't ask for the 12k. I just simply pointed out that his reckless behaviour is very costly for those who suffer for it."

"Okay, guys—" Ghost tries to interject, but it's too late. The fire has already started, and Hope and you have never been on the same page when it comes to anything involving the Avengers.

"You're being unreasonable now. You, of all people, should understand that some things are out of our control."

"That doesn't excuse or make the damage done alright. The ruining of people’s livelihoods isn’t a necessary evil for your super heroe'ing righteousness." You point out, eyes narrowed, and teeth bared. "I, of all people, don't understand your defence. Because I don't use the lab that made me as an excuse to get away with the bad shit I do to people. Whether intentionally or not."

"Really? Because you weren't singing that same song when you cashed in on all that HYDRA inheritance."

"I am not the people that made me and it's not like I'm vacationing the money away. Or have you forgotten about that harbour I had to fix because your boyfriend decided to grow a few sizes?"

"Oh, how could I forget? It's not like you rub it in his face every time he tries to so much as even say hi to you."

"People should be held accountable for their actions. Excuse me for exercising my fifth amendment because I don't think communicating with the guy that turned your dad into a fugitive by siding with the anti-accords gang is cool!"

"That accords was messed and you know it!"

“Yeah, but I didn’t go around trying to be a vigilante about it!”

"Just admit that your stance for the accords is only because you need the government's protection against ex-Hydra agents."

She hit a cord and she knows it. "You're treading on very thin ice, Hope."

 "Scared they might come back and finish what they started? Now that Pierce and Rumlow are gone, there's nothing stopping them from finishing what they started, is there?"

"You know," You sigh, reaching for Ghost's drink and taking a sip. "At least, I don't have to abduct a man from his home, nearly ruin his chances at freedom, risk his life numerous times for my personal gain, just cause I have a theory about my mom's whereabouts. And then—" You let out a condescending laugh at the thought, "—have the audacity to look him in the eye and call it love. Because, ya know, turning a guy into a science experiment and berating him for doing what he thought was right is so romantic."

She's turning red. You can see it before it actually happens and there is a sick sense of pleasure coursing through your veins at the thought. At the fact that you’re the one pressing all the buttons.

Boy, are you fucked up.

"Damn." Sam mumbles, then chortles, then belts out a laugh. "Shit. Who pissed in your gourmet breakfast?"

"People," You scowl at him. “Fucking people. Because, now call me a bitch if you insist, I don't remember telling management to sign a deal with SHIELD."

"What the fuck?" Ghost, ever so caring, contributes to your bewilderment and pissy mood.

You nod frantically at her. "Exactly! What the fuck! Do you see why I needed you guys so bad? Like, it's like the creation of the Strike Force all over again!"

"Hold on—" Captain Damage Ball cuts in. "—I'm confused. What exactly is going on and what does SHIELD have to do with it?"

"Oh boy. Germany, here we go again—"

"Don't be an asshole, shithead."

 --

 When SHIELD fell and Black Widow released all those classified documents to the public, your existence was made known to the public. It turned out that running a terrorist cell inside a super-secret organisation wasn't the only thing Pierce had hidden from the world. You were.

You were supposed to be an experiment. Another volunteer, like the Twins, for Hydra's ultimate plan. Another Bucky Barnes, but without the constant torture to keep you mindless and loyal.

 You were supposed to be the next generation. The Rumlow that wouldn't need force and violence to get the job done. That was the requirement. Those were the orders. That's what you were supposed to be.

Instead, somewhere deep in the dark, cold corners of an abandoned Hydra lab, the inhumane attempt of creating Winter Soldiers through 'natural means' had taken place.

The surrogates were all volunteers, the scientist claimed.

The procedure was necessary for the mission, the doctor explained.

This is the only way forward, the master mind behind that plan argued.

Rumlow took care of the agents himself. Pierce burned down that lab himself. And, out of all the children born, you were the only one that lived longer than the rest. The others were unfortunate enough to be experimented on, before Rumlow found out.

Not knowing who to trust, Pierce kept you hidden from the world and Hydra. He never hid the truth from you, nor did Rumlow. They knew that, at some point, those that knew about the lab would eventually find you, and you needed to be prepared for when they did.

When SHIELD fell, the paper trail that led to your existence was small – miniscule, even – but it was there. Sam found it, but he kept you a secret as well until you were ready for the whole world to know.

But the world wasn't waiting for you to be ready. It wasn't that patient, nor kind. Because, with everything out in the open, chaos ensued, and you were still – at the end of the day – the next generation. All those assets couldn't remain frozen forever and all those lives that were ruined by Hydra couldn't remain unaided.

So, you had to step out and – begrudgingly – announce your existence to the world. Put a huge target on your back and claim the inheritance that Pierce had unwittingly left you.

"I'm gonna go piss off alot of bad people—" You had said to Sam over the phone, right before your News Interview. "What do you think I should start with?"

He wasn't having any of it. "Did you just wait for me to leave the country so you could do something stupid?"

"Of course not, I'm not you—" You scoffed, checking your outfit again. "—I hired a hacker to fake a series of cyber-attacks. Then I asked that girl, you know – the one that could walk through walls, to freak a bunch of people out. So, you know, it could be an Avenger level threat, but not the kind that needed Captain Spandex, so they'd send you. Then I scheduled the interview for the night of the supposed attack, because I knew you'd be gone—"

"Are you kidding me, Y/N— Clint, turn this thing around now!"

"—So, I was thinking I show up on stage and say 'the law says I can take all those assets and I'm gonna use them to do the exact opposite of what my ex-bosses would've wanted'. How does that sound?"

"Do me a favour. Don't move. I wanna kill you myself."

You grinned. "I knew you'd love it."

--

Next Part

TAGS: @nekoannie-chan​ , @thorfanficwriter​

[yikeswtfmate]

Bet?

It’s All Fun and Games Series Masterlist // main masterlist // next part

Summary: The gang plays Monopoly. Y/N is losing.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: swearing; one sexual reference

A/N: i am obviously not speaking from experience when i say that monopoly is the devil’s game; short one but i loved writing it!

The noise from 15B doesn’t seem to subside, although it’s nearing midnight. There are only 4 lights turned on in the entire apartment – one forgotten in the bathroom, after Bucky leapt out as fast as possible in the possibility of Sam stealing his $500 note that he’s left on the table, one in the kitchen where Wanda is trying to make some popcorn but failing at understanding Steve’s  microwave, and two lamps in the corners of the living room, where there’s a huge debate on whether Y/N can skip paying the luxury tax just because one of the dice slipped from her hand.

“No, I am not losing this fucking game, just because you reinforce rules whenever it suits you!” Y/N shouts, finger pointing in Sam’s direction.

“But it slipped from your hand!” He retorts. “You were rolling it!”

“I’ve let you not give me the full rent when you landed on my Boardwalk and this is how you repay me?”

“Ok, settle down, guys.” Steve interferes, before they start wrestling (as it is known to have happened last time). “Y/N, you’re gonna pass Go in your next round anyway. Just mortgage something.”

“Boy, it’s about the principle, not about what’s the easiest way around.”

“You have no principles.” Wanda chimes in. She sits down next to Nat on the sofa, rearranging the blanket on their legs, and hands her the bowl of popcorn. Both of them look at Y/N with half-amused half-accusing expressions.

“You’ve offered to suck Bucky’s dick for one last dollar that you were missing when you landed on his space.” Nat points out.

“Well, how the fuck is it my fault that he has three fucking hotels next to each other and I’ve landed on each?” Y/N’s hands shoot to the ceiling, frustration rising.

They all know how competitive she can get whenever they play Monopoly, and although the girls had decided a long time ago not to play with her anymore, preferring to just watch and comment as referees, Sam likes to laugh at her for how bad she can be at the game, regardless of the thousands of times she’s played it. Bucky and Steve were just goaded into it, with the promise of the loser having to do their dishes for a month, and they figured their chances were pretty big considering Sam’s complete lack of strategy and Y/N’s competitive rage that does nothing but blind her.

“Just declare yourself bankrupt.” Sam says, an ironic undertone to his seemingly considerate remark.

“Bitch, I’ll die before I lose to you.” She seethes, fingers going white as she clutches the coffee table.

“Ok, ok, that’s enough.” Bucky pries her hands open, and clutches them in one of his. He takes one $100 note from the bunch he has in front of him and places it in the box between him and Steve. “She paid it, now move on.”

“You can’t do that!” Sam yells, smirk falling from his face.

“Yeah!” Y/N shouts as well. “You can’t do that! I want to win this fair and square!”

“I’m helping you out, just say thank you and move on.” Bucky sighs, slapping her hand that reaches towards the box. “You can give it back after you pass Go if you’re so desperate.”

“No.” Y/N sets her jaw and tries to lunge herself over Bucky, only to be easily stopped by his strong hands around her arms, practically forcing her into a human straitjacket.

“Sam, your turn now.” Bucky says, completely unfazed by Y/N’s efforts to break free.

Wanda throws some popcorn at Y/N’s head, not missing her target once, which only makes her grumble and lash out more. Bucky is relentless, and having already warned Y/N once to stop thrashing out, he just manoeuvres her like a puppet until she sits between his legs, arms wrapped tightly around her. In the meantime, Sam builds another house and Steve ends up in jail, but Nat puts on an episode of The Office which immediately draws their attention from the boardgame to the tv.

Bucky leans on the armchair behind him, loosening his grip on Y/N, now that she’s closely following an episode that she’s already probably seen countless times. Such a baby, he thinks, amused by her inability to focus on anything else when it comes to her favourite show.

As the episode progresses, so does Y/N’s body mould itself into Bucky. It started with her drawing nearer, her back pressing into his chest, then her head rested on his shoulder, and now her hands find his in order to interlace their fingers. Her hair tickles his collarbone, but he doesn’t mind; she’s keeping him warm. She moves her head up and to the side, until her breath fans over his jaw. If he would look down at her now, their lips would be an inch apart, his mind provides.

“The worst thing about prison was the dementors.” She whispers in time with Michael.

Bucky’s chest starts rumbling under her with a suppressed laugh. She giggles quietly, returning her gaze to the tv. Another stray popcorn hits her head and Y/N groans, grabbing the nearest thing to her (Sam’s top hat on the board) and throws it in the direction of the sofa, only to land in Steve’s hair. Bucky and Y/N both watch in fascination as Steve just pats his left ear, completely unaware of what just happened, and continuing to watch the episode. They look at each other, mouths pressed into thin lines, barely holding in their laughter.

“Five bucks he’ll find it when he goes to sleep.” Bucky whispers in her ear.

“Are you nuts? With the amount of hairspray that he’s got going on, he’ll find it in the shower tomorrow.”

“Bet?” He offers, luring her in in one of their usual games.

“This is too easy and I’ll win. Higher stakes?”

“You’ll go with me at my cousin’s wedding next week.”

Y/N looks up at him again, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I thought I already agreed to that.”

“You’ll have to pretend to be my girlfriend so I can finally get my sister off my back.” Bucky shrugs.

“Bet.” She concedes, offering her pinky. Bucky grabs it with his own and they shake once.

He knows he’ll win the bet, mainly because he’ll be the one creeping into Steve’s room when everyone’s gone to let him know there’s a Monopoly top hat stuck in his hair.

***

Taglist:

@imma-new-soul​ | @feelmyroarrrr​

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

"you have no idea what it's like" for DITD, girlie🖤 (please don't hurt our babies TOO much, I love you)

Ily too wife! 💖 You're the best. 😘

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 | 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤

Rowaelin modern AU ▶ Masterlist

note: guys! I'm finally posting this even tho this may be the cringiest I've ever been. I cannot apologise enough for what you're about to see.

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If being a loner was bad, Rowan decided having friends was worse. He didn't know how to act around Aelin. Should he hug her or kiss her cheek like her other friends do or should he wave? How long should he look at her without it becoming inappropriate? Should he have specified it's not a date everytime he paid for he food or should he let it be? What if she assumed it was a date? What if she wanted it to be a date?

No, she doesn't. Rowan may not be sure of much but this he knew for certain.

She was smitten with the waiter at their usual diner—Sam Cortland, a student from their rival school. He watched her flirt with him shamelessly over the week, batting her eyelashes or laughing out loud as if to draw his attention.

Only yesterday, when the waiter—Sam—asked what they'd like to have for dessert, Aelin had quipped, "I want you for dessert."

Poor boy turned into a flustered mess, walking away from their table at an inhuman speed. Aelin only flashed him a lazy grin from where she sat, an unabashed smile on her face. He didn't know why she didn't ask him out when he was clearly interested in her but her trips to the diner were getting frequent as her crush increased.

Rowan didn't mind hanging out with her there—just the two of them. Today, however, they weren't alone.

They bumped into Aedion and Lysandra on their way inside. Lysandra insisted that the two of them should join them for lunch and it wasn't long after that they invited the rest of the group too. Aelin repeatedly offered that they could leave but Rowan wanted to be friends with her friends. He could tell she wanted it too, though she tried not to show it much. So for both or their sakes, he endured Aedion's awkward silence and his guarded attitude as they waited for the others to arrive.

Lysandra kept them all busy, asking questions every once in a while. "So, Rowan, you're single?"

A blush rose to his cheeks. "I, uh, I suppose?" Lysandra didn't mince words. She was a lot like Aelin in that—all blunt questions and wicked smirks.

Lysandra nudged her best friend. "Aelin is single too." At the glare from her best friend, she turned to him: "and she already—" she was cut off when the bell chimed from the door, the rest of the group shuffling inside.

Dorian was the first to greet him, followed by a wave and a nod from Fenrys and Lorcan respectively.

The introductions were made and he was surprised the conversation wasn't awkward like he feared. Dorian and Fenrys did the most talking, Aelin was quieter for a change and she kept looking at him every few minutes as if to make sure he was still with her. After he assured her he was comfortable at least thrice, she slipped into the conversation too, her hand semi-consciously on top of his.

He was too focused on the warmth of her hand when Fenrys asked, "What do you think, Rowan?"

"I don't—I'm sorry, my mind was elsewhere. What about?" He tried not to look too embarrassed, though he was sure the tips of his ears turned pink. He didn't want Aelin's friends to think he was inattentive and rude.

Aelin squeezed his hand in reassurance. Fenrys shrugged. "It's alright, I was just telling Aelin she could do better than Sam." He quieted when the said waiter arrived with their order, Aelin flashing him a sweet smile. When he left, Fenrys continued, "I don't know about this, Ace. He isn't even your type—"

"You're saying that because he's on your rival team," she pouted.

Fenrys rolled his eyes, looking ready to protest but Lysandra cut in. "Look, if she wants to go for a guy, let her. She isn't stupid, and if something goes wrong, that's what we're here for, right?" At Fenrys' reluctant nod, Aelin blew a kiss towards her friend, mumbling something like 'knew I loved you for a reason' through a mouth full of food. Rowan watched her with a small smile, all his attention directed towards the blonde beside him.

For the whole hour they were there, his eyes never strayed too far from her face.

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"What do you want, Meave?" Rowan couldn't keep the ire off his voice.

Despite his anti-social self, he almost had fun at the diner. All of them welcomed him into the group, resolved on not making it awkward for him. He appreciated all the kindness Aelin's friends had shown him in one hour. Who would have thought he would fit right in with Terrasen's elite crowd? It was almost impossible to believe that his views on them had changed, all within one month. He felt good after returning. Which meant he had no patience for his Aunt Meave right now.

She cocked her head towards him. "Has hanging out with that troublemaker made my nephew so rude, Rowan?"

He always thought his aunt was ice cold, her face emotionless, black hair unbound and dark eyes void of feeling and warmth. Her pale, translucent skin made her look like a corpse, the cruel smirk on her face making him shudder a little as he gathered himself. She knew about his friendship with Aelin, then. He didn't even want to know how.

"Why don't you skip this and tell me what you want, dear aunt?" he said.

Meave's smirk vanished. "Stop hanging out with those troublemakers." It didn't sound like a suggestion.

"No."

"What did you say?"

Rowan surprised himself and his aunt when he repeated, "No. You won't tell me who I should befriend." He had never refused her anything before.

Meave raised an eyebrow. "Don't say things you'll regret, Rowan."

"I mean it. Leave me alone," Rowan repeated. Too much. She'd taken too much and he's always let her because what did it matter? But this he won't bend on. Meave won't take this from him. He was finally starting to fit in somewhere. He won't let his aunt destroy that.

He turned towards the doorway, almost walked out when her voice stopped him in his tracks. "You'll listen to me, Rowan, or I'll make you."

"Feel free to try," he answered.

Then Rowan Whitethorn was out of her office, heart hammering inside his chest and praying to whatever gods would listen that this won't come and bite him in the ass later.

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A week passed by without any consequences. Rowan started to relax. Perhaps Meave didn't mean her threats, perhaps she spoke for the sake of rattling him alone.

He hoped he was right.

Aelin wore Sam out with her constant flirting. He asked her out and she accepted. Aelin couldn't stop talking about it for the whole week that followed. He listened to her with a smile, though he didn't understand why it felt so forced. They were planning their second date.

Rowan was accepted by most of his teammates now, thanks to Aedion and Fenrys. After years of hope and resentment, he was right where he had always wanted. Him and Aelin were better friends than ever, spending whatever time they could together. She couldn't stop talking about Sam. He'd never seen her happier.

Then why did it feel so wrong?

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Something was wrong.

Aelin was avoiding him, he could tell. She ran the other way whenever he saw her, hiding from him the whole day. Rowan didn't know what he did wrong but when he realised she wasn't talking to any of her friends, he had a feeling it wasn't him this time.

Tomorrow, he promised himself, I'll make her talk and find out what's up.

That day in her living room, he had promised a half asleep blonde he won't leave. Rowan Whitethorn was a man of his word. He would stick by her side. Let worse come to worst, she would never be alone again.

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Aelin was crumpled on the floor, head leaning against her locker and her face buried in her knees when Rowan found her the next day. "Aelin, fireheart, what happened?" he asked.

She didn't look up at him, almost as if she wasn't aware of his presence.

He heard her choke a sob out, then another until her body was shaking with the force of them. Rowan crouched down beside her, pulling her towards him when she recoiled, her breaths coming out short as she pulled away. She shook her head, "Don't come near me, I can't—I can't breathe. Arobynn won't, he won't like it, I should have tried harder... my fault, I couldn't do it. I failed, oh god. I failed, I could have—I tried so hard and I still failed. Please don't—don't touch me—" another round of sobs wracked her body.

Rowan's stomach lurched as he backed off. Panic attack. She was having a panic attack.

He forced his voice to remain calm, gentle but firm. "Aelin, love, I need you to breathe. Listen to me breathe, ok? Listen and breathe with me. Can you do that, fireheart?" When she didn't quiet down, he placed her hand on his chest with the most delicate of touches. He breathed out loud, once, twice, thrice and repeated the process until she had calmed down a little.

Tears flooded down her cheeks, her face flushed. Aelin seemed a little calmer, at least. She kept shaking for a few more minutes, her small hand still on his chest, engulfed in his larger one.

"Aelin, should I—can I hold you?" He didn't know what else to do.

When his eldest cousin had panic attacks, that was what his uncle did. He had no knowledge how to deal with it beside that.

Aelin said, "I want to—I want to but I don't know—I'm not sure if I can." She was still shaking, covered in sweat.

He brushed some strands of her away from her forehead, then said, "Here's what I will do. I'll hug you and if you feel you can't, you tell me, is that fine? Can you do that, fireheart?"

She nodded.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her, relieved when she relaxed into his arms. He rubbed circles on her back as the shaking ebbed. He was afraid to ask what prompted the panic attack, seeing as she was still in a fragile state.

Aelin said quietly, "I failed a test." She let out a sob. "I don't—I've never failed before. I studied so hard, I don't know how! I swear I prepared for it."

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head in encouragement to continue. She said, "I can't tell others. They don't understand. Lysandra said it's not a big deal, Aedion dismissed it. Arobynn is going to be so pissed, god, and if everyone finds out I'm dumb, I don't know what I'll do. What if everyone finds out my marks? God, Uncle Gavriel—he will be so disappointed and Aunt Elaine! She was so sure I'd score a hundred." The sobs started anew and Rowan soothingly rubbed her back.

"Hey, fireheart, look at me. You failed once, so what? You can do better next time, right?"

It was the wrong thing to say because she frowned, pulling back. Her eyes filled with unushed tears, already swollen from crying. The mascara smeared across her face now, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. "You don't understand either," she said.

He tried not to wince at the accusatory tone with which she talked.

"Aelin, I don't—"

She shook her head violently, leaning back against the lockers. "You don't. No one understands. Everyone's good at something. Aedion is the football captain, Lysandra is on the dance team. Dorian's the school president, even Lorcan—he's on a gods damned scholarship. I'm the useless one. You don't know how it feels, to always be around friends knowing they're better than you. They all have their own talents, I just fail at stuff. They're all working hard for their careers. Me? I'm just the girl everyone keeps around because she is a nice accessory." Rowan's heart broke as he listened. He didn't dare stop her. She needed to let it out, all that was bothering her. She continued with a sob, "They're perfect. Everyone has their thing. Fenrys can sing, Dorian has debate, Lysandra can dance, Aedion loves football, I don't—I never fit in. I'm like that lost puppy who follows her friends around. What do I have to be proud about?" She rubbed at her eyes again.

Rowan gently moved her hands away from her face, wiping her tears. "So what if you don't know when the Caesar fell or why the sky looks blue? You've been through so much pain and you still smile. That alone makes you stronger than anyone I know. I'm proud of that and you should be too. Don't ever say you're useless. You're young, you've got years to figure out what path you want to choose for yourself, ok? Never think you're any less than your friends." When she nodded, he pulled her closer. "And if it's the test you're concerned about, we'll fix this together. I'll help you and in the next test, you'll kick ass. Ask me how I know."

Aelin gave him a blank look.

He smiled. "C'mon, ask me, fireheart."

"How?" her voice was throaty from crying but it didn't waver.

"I know because you're Aelin. When we met, I hated you but you were so determined to be friends, and look where we are. You can do anything, fireheart. With a little help, of course."

She looked up at him and blinked, the haze clearing away from her eyes. There was a small smile on her face as she poked his cheek. "So much praise for me, buzzard. Have you got more?"

"Don't push it," he told her, though he was smiling wide.

Aelin wiped the remaining tears away, rising from the ground and dusted her pants off. She turned to walk away.

"Where are you going now?"

She smirked. "Bathroom. Failed or not, I'll be damned if anyone saw me like that. I do owe it to my fanclub." He could tell she was pretending to be her normal self for his sake but the smile was genuine.

Shaking his head, Rowan followed her to the girls washroom. Gods, she was going to be the death of him.

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a/n: I'm sorry this was so sappy, I didn't reread it because I'm worried if I do, I'll delete the whole thing. this was the hardest to write and I can't apologise enough 😭

Tags:

@thesirenwashere // @judexcardanxgreenbriar //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash

[honeymoonjin]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader x hoseok || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 4.4k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 your two boyfriends decide to play good cop-bad cop with you as the criminal.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 oh god where do i begin… roleplay, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), anal (f receiving), multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, squirting, dp, object insertion, use of sex toy, bondage, soft dom namjoon, hard dom hoseok, deepthroating, degradation, dirty talk, overstimulation, spanking, eiffel tower (spitroasting? i do not know the difference between these two terms), unprotected sex

---

“You’re in a lot of trouble, you know.”

“A lot of trouble,” Namjoon agrees, “right now, we’re your best chance here. If you confess now, we might be able to greatly lower your sentence.”

You bite your tongue, hard, and stare at your reflection in the wall-length mirror across from you. 

Hoseok laughs bitterly. “No? We don’t want this to get ugly, princess, but if you don’t cooperate, it will.”

The younger man pulls up a chair from across from you, swiveling it around so that he straddles it backwards. You try not to quirk a grin at the image of one of your boyfriends trying to act cool. “Let us help you, Y/n,” he enthuses with an encouraging smile, “tell us why you did it.”

“Did what?” you spit out. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

Hoseok stands up, pacing behind you, out of sight. You fight the urge to crane your neck around to face him. He bends; his voice low in your ear, hot breath on your neck. “We all know that’s not quite true. Don’t lie to me, Y/n. Unlike my colleague here, I’m not so-” you let out a strangled whimper when a hand snakes into your hair and tugs your head roughly to the side, exposing your neck, “forgiving.” 

“Hoseok,” said colleague scolds, “don’t frighten the poor girl.” Namjoon sighs out slowly, like he’s disappointed in you. “But I’m afraid he brings up a valid point. We both know what you did that night. All we need is a confession, and we have all night to get it, the easy way or the hard way.”

You suck in a sharp breath through your nose when you feel teeth slowly dragging their way down the sensitive flesh of your neck, stopping at the rise of your collarbone. When Hoseok speaks, his lips are soft against your skin. “Something tells me she would prefer the hard way.” 

You jerk your hands when he bites down harshly, but the tug at your wrists and clatter of metal on metal reminds you of the handcuffs that lock you to the interrogation table. For a scene room at your local BDSM club, the place was surprisingly convincing, down to the stark strip lights on the ceiling that would buzz every few seconds.

You whimper when the pressure of teeth turns into wet suction, a tongue laving and sucking at the skin to raise a hickey. “I didn’t do anything, I swear! You have to believe me!”

Hoseok hums and nuzzles into your neck, chucking under his breath. “Let’s see if you can keep your story straight when you’re cumming for us so hard that you can’t even think. I find a good orgasm does wonders for bringing out the truth.”

With one last press of his lips, the elder stands back up and walks back around the table, leaning on the table edge beside where Namjoon is sitting. Namjoon looks up at him and the two share a nod.

“Y/n.” Namjoon’s eyes are heavy on yours, but you can’t help but let your gaze wander down his figure. The two are clad in the same uniform, yet it strikes you differently for each of them. The white button-down and black pants highlight Hoseok’s lean build, the first few buttons undone to show golden skin. But for Namjoon, the way the fabric strains, yet his tie remains perfectly straight, screams power. And you feel deliciously powerless sitting across from the two of them.

“Y/n,” Namjoon repeats in a chastising tone, returning your attention to him, “I want to believe you. Really, I do. You’re a vulnerable young woman and I understand this experience must be stressful for you, but the jig is up. It’s time for you to be honest.”

He pushes his chair back noisily, slowly, like he has all the time in the world. When he stands and moves around the table to you, he adjusts his cuffs, though they were already perfect. You can see the way he juts his chin out lightly, trying to portray an in-control aura. While Namjoon puts in an effort to stay in that character of authority (normally his dominance in the bedroom was a lot more implicit), Hoseok has never seemed more in his element, eyes hot on you with molten lust, mouth pursed and lids low. You can see how his erection presses tightly against his pants, though he shows no indication of being bothered by it.

You can’t keep your eyes on him long, however, as a large hand gently grabs your chin and turns it to face Namjoon. He stares down at you, searching your figure. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it?” You frown at the change in conversation, but go completely still when his hand moves, both homing in to the top of your shirt, fingers fiddling with the button, popping it open. “I always tell the chief not to have the thermostat on so high, but he never listens. It’s hard to think straight when you must be so overheated.” Three buttons; four. You swallow hard when his knuckles brush against your breasts where they swell over the cups of your bra. “How about we cool you down a little bit? You might be able to remember more clearly then.”

When he reaches the last button, he gently parts the fabric, letting it fall off your shoulders until the sleeves catch on your elbows, unable to slip down further. There’s another metal chair in the corner, and Namjoon drags it over to sit down beside you, running his calloused palms over the bare skin of your upper arms and shoulders. “Is this better?” he asks in a murmur.

You nod tentatively. 

Namjoon smiles. “Good. Now, let’s try this again. Where were you on the night of the 6th?” 

You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. “I was at home with my boyfriends.”

“Plural?” Hoseok scoffs at you from across the metal table. “Figures. A slut like you wouldn’t be satisfied with just one.”

You shrug, a sly grin playing on your lips. “I have three holes. Seems a waste to only fill one of them.”

His nostrils flare and his eyes narrow into slits. “But our files say you only have two boyfriends. I guess we’ll just have to find something else to fill you with, huh?” He adjust his hips, drawing your attention to the nightstick that dangles from his belt. You swallow hard, and he grins toothily. That fucker. 

Namjoon sighs, placing a palm on the flesh of your thigh. Earlier in the costume room, you had thought the skirt and blouse was too ‘schoolgirl’. Now, as your soaked panties cling to your pussy lips, you’re grateful for the ease of access it allows. Your legs tip open more minutely, inviting him in. 

“We could make this easy for you, Y/n. We could make it feel good. But my partner here is getting impatient, and I’m worried I can only hold him back for so long. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Hoseok’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, watching Namjoon’s hand glide higher and higher with a gaze dripping in raw need. “I do.”

Your legs fall open further and you sigh out. “For the last time,” you make out through a moan as Namjoon’s fingers finally press against you, perfectly still, “I don’t know anything, and I didn’t do anything. What can I do to prove my innocence?”

“Y/n, Y/n,” Namjoon croons, “I feel like…” Your mouth drops open when he begins to rub against your clit through your panties, round and round, frustratingly slow. “I feel like we’re just going in circles.” 

“I agree,” Hoseok pitches in. “Clearly she’s not willing to listen to reason or rationale. A girl like her can’t use her head because all she can think about is being fucked stupid. Bend her over the table, Namjoon. Ass up.”

Obediently, the younger grabs you under the armpits and tugs you out of your chair, pulling you forward until your hips hit the edge of the table and you fold over it, hands pressed between your breasts and the cool metal. “Hey! What the fuck?”

“Well, princess,” Hoseok growls, standing up to walk around the table, “you obviously won’t listen to Namjoon when he asks nicely, and I don’t ask nicely. I take what I want and if you don’t give it to me, I make you regret it.”

You continue to struggle as he lifts up your skirt to reveal your panties, internally reveling in the feeling of Namjoon pinning your back and head to the table. He’d been going to the gym more recently, and it had never paid off more than right now.

“Shh,” he soothed. “This will hurt less if you just relax and take it. Be a good girl for us.”

A rough grip latches onto your panties, pulling them up between your cheeks harshly so that the fabric grinds against your clit. You whine and rise up on your tiptoes, but Hoseok just pulls harder, wiggling it to watch you shudder at the sensation. 

Once he’s had his fill, he pulls them down past your ass to leave it bare for him. “Either you confess,” he bargains, “or you won’t be able to sit for a week. What’s it gonna be?”

“This is fucking sick!” you spit. “What’s wrong with you, you can’t do this!”

The hold against your back falters. “Colour?” Namjoon questions unsurely.

Your heart warms, but you fight not to lose the heat of the moment. “Green, baby, I’m green.”

“Okay.” He presses down again, harder this time, and you keen when your face is trapped between the table and his hand, fingers almost cupping your entire head. You love when he makes you feel small, and you lose yourself in that satisfaction too much, only returning when Hoseok grows impatient and rains a sharp slap against your left ass cheek, making you jump violently under Namjoon’s hold.

“Are you going to confess, princess?” Hoseok’s hand smooths over the stinging sensation on your skin, and you sigh out at the relief, but shake your head firmly. “Well, then. You know what that means.”

One hit at a time, he brings his hand down on your ass, pausing briefly after each one to soothe your reddening skin and ask if you have anything to say. You feel yourself growing steadily slicker, thighs slipping together as you writhe on the table. “Please, Hoseok!”

Another smack, this one hitting lower down at the tops of your thighs. You whine. Hoseok kneads the sore flesh with a tut. “If you don’t confess, I have no choice.”

“We won’t be angry,” Namjoon adds. “If you tell us the truth now, we can take your statement to the chief and try to lower your sentence for complying with us.”

“I’ll give you one last chance,” Hoseok warns, “tell me now. Because if you don’t, I’m not giving you anymore chances. I’m not stopping until your ass is redder than a traffic light, and then we’ll see if you feel like sharing.”

You huff, but don’t say anything. After a moment, Hoseok tuts you again, the room falling completely silent. You go weak with anticipation, feeling the chill of the metal seep into your bones, wiggling your ass in the air slightly.

You jerk when the first kiss of skin bites you, but as promised, he doesn’t stop there, relentlessly spanking you over and over, back and forth.

You cry out and struggle under Namjoon’s grip, kicking out hopelessly with your legs, but Hoseok just growls and holds them down, continuing to light up your ass as you flinch under every smack.

It goes on for what feels like forever. You try to shuffle yourself up further onto the table or lower your ass away from the pain, but nothing helps. Between the two of them, there’s nothing you can do but lie there and take it, whining their names. When Hoseok does stop with a satisfied exhale, dragging a fingernail over your red ass, you’re sobbing, tears making your cheeks slip wetly against the table. 

Namjoon lets out a hum of concern. “That was hard for me to watch, Y/n.” You know he’s lying, but you sniff and nod anyway. “I wish you would’ve taken the easy way so we could have avoided all this suffering. Look at you. You’re a mess.”

You squeeze your eyes tightly shut as he takes his hands off you, sliding them down your haphazardly-clothed body, until they’re cupping your sore cheeks, spreading them. You hear the chair squeak and hear his shoes squeak against the floor as he crouches behind you.

“Let’s get rid of these,” he murmurs, tugging your ruined panties down your legs, helping you step out of them shakily. “God, what’s this?” You hiss as a finger slips between your folds, barely any pressure. “Here I was, worried about you suffering, but you liked it, didn’t you? You’re dripping.”

Hoseok scoffs sharply. “Of course she did. Sluts like her need someone to be strict with them. They need someone to take control. I don’t think our princess has any intentions of confessing at all, Namjoon. If I’m being honest, I think she just wants us to ruin her.”

Namjoon makes a noise of consideration. You can feel his breath waft over your core as he speaks. “Is that so, partner? Well, if Y/n isn’t going to talk, then we might as well use that mouth for something worthwhile.”

Hoseok laughs darkly. “For once, I agree with you completely. What do you think, princess? Need a cock down your throat?”

You crack open your eyes, blinking blearily at him and nodding. You’re still bent over the table, and instead of sitting you up, Hoseok leans forward and grabs a handful of your hair, tugging it to the side, pulling you over so that you’re laid out across the corner of the table, chin hanging over the edge. You wince at the sharp pull on your scalp but your mouth soon begins to water as your boyfriend stands in front of you, pressing his cloth-covered erection against your nose.

You look up at him with wide eyes, and his grin is pure wicked desire. Slowly, teasingly, you begin to rock your face against the front of his pants, unable to pull your hands out from under you, the cuffs digging into the delicate bones of your wrists. He swears lowly at the sight and feeling of you rubbing yourself against him. 

Growing restless of your teasing in mere seconds (Namjoon was always the patient one), Hoseok pulls back and let’s go of your hair to undo his pants, pushing them and his underwear down below his ass. His cock springs up one it breaches the waistband, and you’re so close that it smacks your face on the way, smearing precum across your cheek. 

He licks his lips and laughs at your affronted glare. “Open up, princess.” You do as he says, stretching your jaw and sticking your tongue out, and he places himself on your tongue, tapping it playfully a few times before grasping the back of your head again and pressing himself deep into the back of your throat.

You consider yourself a seasoned expert at deepthroating, but the awkward angle has you feeling off-guard, and you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on breathing through your nose. 

All you can hear is his quiet pants and breathy curses as he uses your mouth, in no hurry to face fuck you quickly, more concerned about plunging himself to the hilt and feeling you gag around him each time. He’s enjoying using you and wants to savour it. Or, you consider, there’s something else coming and he knows not to demand too much.

This thought strikes you only a second before something foreign is pressing shallowly into your entrance, pushing at those muscles. You jerk and jump away as best you can, but that only results in you impaling yourself deeper on Hoseok’s cock, and you splutter around him, losing your breath.

He takes mercy on you and drags you off him by pulling back on your hair again. You think you might need a wig after this with how rough he’s being. You swear you’ve felt him rip actually strands out. 

You puff and catch your breath back again, blinking up at him with spit around your mouth and chin and tears in your eyes, and through the character of a dominating police officer, you see the shine of pride in his eyes, and it warms you up inside. You’re doing well, baby, it seems to say.

Namjoon’s hands are running lightly up and down your thighs, simultaneously relaxing you and winding you up more. “We both saw the way you were eyeing up that nightstick, Y/n. I thought you wanted us to fill you up? Three holes, remember?”

Your eyes go wide as you listen to him, but continue to look up at your boyfriend, though your neck muscles ache. With one hand on your hair and the other under your chin, Hoseok forces you to keep locked into his gaze as the unforgiving object is slowly plunged into you, forcing your pussy walls, as slick as they are, to accommodate the intrusion.

Your mouth falls open and your toes curl. “F-fuck,” you babble, “oh god.”

“That’s right,” Hoseok affirms, “unlike you, we give what we’re asked for. And your body is begging for us to stuff you to the brim.” 

You shiver, and he cracks a grin at the look in your eyes. 

Namjoon thrusts up into you with the nightstick a few times lazily, before pulling out. You whine at the loss, but once he begins circling your back entrance, you stop breathing, clenching automatically in anticipation.

“Uh-uh,” Namjoon tuts, “you need to relax for me. Don’t worry, this is smaller than either of us. Now let me in.”

You do your best to relax your muscles, and groan gutturally at the feeling of the tip of it breaching the tight ring of muscles. Once it’s in, the rest of the stick is the same thickness, and you tremble as Namjoon easily sinks it deep inside you, until you feel the handle pressing against the reddened flesh of your ass. You clench around it experimentally, and groan again.

“Good?” Namjoon questions, and you nod quickly, rocking your hips slightly to feel it move inside you. “My turn now. Spread those legs wider.”

You try to do as he says, but your brain is too slow, and in the end he kicks at your ankles, baring yourself to him even more, your stomach lowering to press flat against the table. You bite your lip when you feel his cockhead lining up between your folds, and you crane your neck forward, opening your mouth and glancing up at Hoseok.

He pats your cheek, the one covered in his slowly-drying precum, and places his cock on your tongue, letting you suckle on the tip as Namjoon grips your hips. 

You swipe your tongue over Hoseok’s slit, collecting the colourless drops that have gathered there, and hum around him, trying to open your walls up to Namjoon, even as your body tries to reject it.

While Hoseok is the longer, Namjoon is much thicker than anyone you’ve been with, and while it’s never been a problem (a huge plus, in fact), you find the stretch as he tries to fit himself in alongside the makeshift dildo buried in your ass is just too much. He senses your discomfort, the way your cheeks clench and your back tenses, and slips out the little way he was able to plunge inside.

“We need to swap,” Namjoon instructs his elder. 

You whimper as Hoseok pulls his cock away from you, wiping away the wetness in the corners of your eyes. “Is our princess too small to take you both back there?” 

“She is,” Namjoon affirms. “Besides, I want a taste of that pretty little mouth of hers. I’d rather have her choking on me than spitting out more lies.”

They exchange places quickly, and soon enough Namjoon is cupping the back of your head with both hands, fucking your throat the way he likes most. The noises that come out of your mouth are obscene, but they only double in volume and desperation when Hoseok latches onto the nightstick and begins fucking your ass with it, holding your hips up higher so that he can begin to sink inside you as he works the stick, stimulating nerves that almost never received any attention.

You feel drool sliding down your neck, unable to swallow properly around Namjoon, who fills your mouth and throat with every thrust, and your feet lift off the floor as Hoseok holds you up, bouncing you on his cock so every time he fucks up into you he’s stuffing you to the hilt. 

Your toes curl and your andfingers clutch at the chains of your handcuffs as you gargle and splutter around the hardness in your throat, feeling the wave of an orgasm crest, almost too much to feel good. There’s so much sensation, so much pleasure, that when it’s all out together, it overwhelms you completely, and the second Hoseok’s finger grazes against your clit when he goes to get a better hold on your hips, you’re vaulted into a shuddering orgasm, eyes squeezed tightly shut with the intensity of it. 

Namjoon quickly removes himself from your throat when you come, so you use your free mouth to cry out hopelessly, screaming as Hoseok continues to fuck you. It’s too much, and you try to curl up on yourself, thrashing under him to try and escape the blistering sensations, but he refuses to stop, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, growling out your name as he meets his own end, shuddering one last time and coming inside you. He slaps your ass weakly but you clench anyway, and that milks the last of his cum from him. With an exhausted sigh, he pulls out, and before his seed can even begin to drip out, Namjoon is behind you and plunging himself inside.

Relaxed from your orgasm and stretched out from Hoseok, your walls do accommodate him this time, but the way he fills you completely makes your legs go ramrod straight, muscles trembling. “Namjoon, fuck!” 

“That’s it,” he soothes, “just some more me, Y/n. You’re gonna feel real good, I promise.”

You sob, going limp as he fucks you, every thrust ripping another inhuman sound from your raw throat. 

Worryingly quickly, your high rises again, and you barely get enough time to scream out a warning before you’re plunged into another orgasm, wailing at the feeling of clenching around two different intrusions inside of you. 

Namjoon swears, and his cum paints your insides, mixing with Hoseok’s. Faintly, through a sub-space haze, you hear Hoseok command, “get her up.”

“It’s too much,” Namjoon’s voice murmurs, but the nightstick is being pulled from you, and you let out a broken whimper when it slips out, leaving you empty, and strong hands are flipping you onto your back, resting you on the table with your ass on the edge. 

“She’ll take it,” Hoseok replies, and you find out what he means when his fingers dip easily inside you, three at once, and his mouth lowers to tongue at your clit.

Your legs jerk, thighs clamping around his head and hips waving uselessly in the need to escape, but another pair of hands reluctantly holds you down by the shoulders, a face nuzzling into your hair and pressing kisses against your sweaty temple.

Your hands are pulled off to one side, still attached to the table, but you can’t help but rattle them, thrashing under Hoseok’s ministrations. 

You’ve come too hard and too close together, and his focussed clit and g-spot stimulation is too much for your tortured nerves. 

Tears slip steadily into your hairline by your temples, but Namjoon just kisses them away.

“My good girl,” he soothes, “just give us one more. You’re doing so well.”

“I ca-han’t,” you sob hopelessly, “Hobiii!”

“One more,” Namjoon reminds, “or confess now.”

Hoseok’s mouth is unforgiving; sucking and flicking and nibbling no matter how much you’re convulsing under him. You hear him chuckle between your legs as he speeds up his hands, and your mouth goes slack when you realise that the unmistakable flame of an orgasm building inside you is growing.

“I don’t even-” you break off into a moan as Namjoon tugs down the cups of your bra and tugs at the closest nipple with his teeth, sending volts straight to your core. “Fuck, I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, princess,” Hoseok growls, and swaps to use his fingers to rub back and forth over your clit as fast as he can.

You feel something break inside you, a kind of release, and your vision goes spotty with your final orgasm. It’s not as traditionally powerful, but you feel wetness pelting your thighs, and manage to squint downwards, where clear liquid drips of Hoseok’s fingers. 

Namjoon laps soothingly at your sensitive nipple, and you whimper, finally able to close your legs tightly once Hoseok removes his fingers from you. 

They both caress you softly as tremors wrack your body in waves, and once you slowly come back down to earth, you feel your eyes slip shut, the voices of your boyfriends filling your ears.

“Is she out?”

“I think so. Fuck, Hobi, I thought you were gonna fucking kill her with that last one.”

A fond pat on your thigh. “She loved it. Or did you miss the point where she squirted all over me?”

Namjoon pauses for a moment. “It was a team effort,” he insists begrudgingly.

Hoseok laughs tiredly. “Sure thing, good cop. Why don’t you play your role some more and get our princess a drink of water?”

Namjoon huffs a little but leaves, and you crack your eyes open sleepily when Hoseok wiggles your ankle playfully. “Are you ready to confess now, or should I force another orgasm out of you?”

You know he’s joking, but you can’t help but shiver. “Fuck that,” you groan out with an aching throat. “I’ll confess. It was Mr Mustard in the study with a candlestick.”

Hoseok lets out a loud laugh. “You little brat.”

“Love you too. But next time, I’m bad cop.”

[kneamet]

James Nicholls wants to have a baby with a reader. She wants to get away from him. James caresses her gently and kisses her. He tells her that they will try for a baby tomorrow. The reader is terrified and tries to get out of bed, but James holds her wrists and says she must be in bed with him.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, forced.

Word Count: 1862

Character: James Nicholls/reader

Summary: James wants a baby, but you're against it.

POV James

He liked to see you in bed. In his bed, which he had bought himself, distributing his pitiful soldier's pay for the arrangement of furniture and home comfort. He did not want to admit to himself that at least the pay of a soldier in those difficult war years for people was very good. The pay was excellent and one month would have been enough for two more, while sharing the household budget with his wife. But now he was being paid, as a former soldier, a fairly small salary, which meant that he had to earn extra money and save money.

But surprisingly, the police paid enough. The salary for his main job as a police officer in his small village covered everything, so there was a lot of money left for other small expenses and food. As well as the paper he used too often.

James swallowed, smiling slightly and wiping his pencil with his thumb, making a smudge for the shadows on the man's body. The love of drawing, which had been instilled in him since childhood, always gave him pleasure. It was nice to sit in silence, enjoying only the small crowing of the chickens in his parents ' backyard, and leaning against the wall of the room, drawing, remembering, and memorizing all sorts of images.

James has always had a great passion for drawing and for art in general. He wanted to achieve something great. Make it so that it is remembered. And they remembered him not as just an unlucky person in the family circle, as everyone thought, but as a famous artist who would dedicate his works to his beautiful wife and share his art all over the world. And, of course, he also wanted respect.

A man rarely got respect in the family circle. Being a rather soft and insecure person, little James was teased, as he himself remembers, from the beginning of the school to which his father sent him, paying off the last money for his son's education, even without counting the fact that he himself had a lot of debts.

James didn't really remember him. Only in fragments. A tough man, whose nra still try to subdue. And everyone always wondered how such a man could have such a son that even a woman could not command?

James shook his head, running the hard lead over the soft paper of his sketchbook, which he had barely found in the town. He considered drawing his outlet. Something that he can only share on paper and only to himself. Basically, in his paintings, he liked to draw people, animals and feelings. Unattainable feelings that all the people in the world deny. Weakness, pain, and poverty. A disturbing topic, but very important. The one that all people are afraid to reveal.

As he made a few more touches, James pushed it slightly away from him, carefully assessing the result. His beloved wife, his beloved rose. You. You were so good at this image. An innocent but fatal beauty was visible in you in his drawing. The only thing he didn't particularly like about the painting was the shadows. It is quite difficult to find the right slates, since all the artists wrote at once with paints, even without wanting to outline.

James chuckled as he set his leather-bound sketchbook down on the low round table beside the bed. His gaze immediately shifted to you and he tried to stifle a small moan. No, he definitely didn't think you were a sexual object. Of course, he had such feelings for you, but basically they were all tender and as sensual as possible.

He saw how your beautiful eyes, which reflected and understood absolutely everything, tensely jumped from line to line. He was curious about what you were reading, so James quickly reached for your hands, snatched the book out of them, closed it, and wrote the title of the cover.

"Little women," he muttered, frowning, one hand clutching a book with a soft and battered cover. Without turning, he frowned. "I haven't read this yet. Interesting?" Looking up, he smiled a soft smile as he placed the book on the table where he had previously placed his sketchbook with an unfinished drawing.

He saw your startled and slightly frightened look. Did he scare you?" Or disgusted? No, no, no! He definitely didn't want to do it. His eyes widened slightly as goose bumps covered his back.

But no, of course he imposes it all on himself. You love him, and he loves you. You had a pure and tender love, which can not be compared with anything, even with book novels.

The man reflected your smile and stretched out his hand, touching your stomach covered with a sheet and looking from him to you, looking at the features of your face with such a penetrating look, as if he wanted to remember forever.

Your velvety, bottomless eyes looked straight into his soul, searching for every bit of his unforgiving sins and punishing him. And he would definitely repent of them.

"My rose, I've wanted everything for a long time, but I didn't dare..." James muttered, stroking your stomach and feeling it sink slightly down, as if moving away from his touch. "What do you think about it?.." he was nervous. I was nervous. It was such an awkward yet interesting feeling that he couldn't describe it. "What do you think about having a baby?" he finally managed to say, feeling his hands start to shake from the strain.

He was burdened with the happiness of becoming a father with the one girl he loved, cherished, and was literally dependent on. He always wanted to feel her gentle touch, her soft words, her lovely appearance, her beautiful voice and, of course, her witty mind. So wonderful and so lovely. And all of it.

Suddenly, he felt your body tense under the weight of his hand, and you jerked. James frowned. He didn't like it. Are you trying to leave him?" Run away? From him? Or from responsibility? No, he doesn't want that.

"What are you doing, my rose?" he couldn't remember when the nickname had first appeared. Perhaps when they had first met and crossed eyes in the flower shop where James himself had bought flowers for his mother.

***

"Yes, finish this bouquet, please," he said, smiling sweetly at the saleswoman, who nodded and could not help but reflect his smile and catch his flattering state. James grinned, looking around. He's never been here before. Buy flowers. Who's going to do it anyway?

He turned his head to the right after the saleswoman, and his eyes widened in incredible and flattering surprise. Right in front of him, in the farthest corner of the hall, stood the most beautiful and beautiful girl he had ever met.

Her hair was tied up in a small bun that pulled her hair up; he couldn't see her eyes, but he was sure they were incredible. Lowering his eyes a little lower, he noticed what she was wearing, smiling slightly. Such innocence.

***

Touching your hand with a light touch, the man pulled his whole body up to you, touching your soft lips with yours, barely holding back a moan at how soft and pliable they were. Stepping back slightly, he touched his forehead to yours, feeling the little saliva that ran from your lips to his.

"We'll try to have a baby tomorrow, my rose."

***

POV Your

You wanted to leave. Make a scene and leave without even saying goodbye. Slam the door loudly, saying you don't want to hear his voice. But you knew that was impossible. That it was too risky and putting the trust that James had in you was risky. Once again, you didn't want to get into his confidence by talking about it, praising his ears with flattering comments in his direction.

It's better to leave it as it is. What does it say? Is the old evil better than the new? Yes, I think so. So it's better not to make James angry, but just continue to pretend to be his wife, that she loves him. At least he wouldn't notice.

You never thought that this nice gentleman. Your sweet boy and friend James, who was so sweet and charming, will eventually turn out to be a man who is obsessed with you and believes that his love is pure and does not even realize that he is hurting you.

But now it seemed to you that he had overstepped his bounds.

Have a baby? You absolutely did not want to do this because you thought it was too much. Yes, you have been living together for more than a year, but it is still scary to go to such a step. And you definitely didn't want a child with a man who literally kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife.

And yet, despite all the flaws, you didn't think he was crazy. And no, you didn't love him. There was no love between you, and there can't be any, because you hate him, and he's just obsessed with you. It's not love.

"Wh-what?" you tried to force yourself to say, feeling your hands tremble under James ' touch, and coda's skin prickle with goose bumps. Your breathing became ragged and erratic.

"Yes, my rose, why don't we have a baby? I think we're ready for this, " he muttered under his breath, moving away from you and wiping away the saliva with his finger, smiling slightly at you. Smiling the smile you've come to love, not knowing what lies behind her mask.

You hated the way he called you. A rose. With my rose. You didn't belong to him, and it sounded disgusting. Too disgusting. It's like he only thought of you in a sexual way. Because you only associated rose with sexuality.

You looked up at him, feeling very confused. James was definitely a freak at heart, but his appearance was not lacking in nature. He was handsome: his blond hair was cut short; his blue eyes, like a distance in which you could disappear, looked at you with a needful look; his lips were thin. His face was so aristocratic that you couldn't believe he was an ordinary soldier.

But no, you're not buying his innocent face. Although you were still tormented by doubts. James has never physically touched you before. It is possible only morally, and this is rare. So you didn't know how to describe him as a person. He was a rather ambiguous person. The face of an angel, which in the end turned out to be a devil, but a devil in which an angel is half seen.

You shook your head, wanting to leave the room and get the hell out of there. Just away from James and his ideas. Sitting up, you were about to get up, until you felt James's big hand on your emaciated wrist, and he was glowering at you from under his brows. He was scary.

"You will stay in bed with me, my rose."