#my sister in Christ you were the one who took that flower away from the light

[kyouka-supremacy]

The reason why Kouyou raised Chuuya well but failed with raising Kyouka is because while Chuuya was given a family where he never had one, Kyouka was taken away from a family she loved and that loved her back

[libidomechanica]

“Or bishop, and see”

A ballad sequence

               First Stanza

Head to the safe in young, and bed’s     simply black has painter’s otherness a cry, and tymely     eventually and

durst in mine! Those that the bark will,     the golden eye doth both delight else. Or bishop, and see!     Ruin hands me by the

silence more. To clyme, and I wink,     and clattered the two pink, then: bless round the waves she, adorne     away too, joined clenched

by soles show the avow—your brow     answer, the decline thy who cries, those love her breath their Christ     whose pression—cannot ring.

               Second Stanza

Alas, I forbore— thus to do?     Go these are awake awake, and I see not stands upon     the milk and yet swam in

my sadden he turn it is there     itself in my fall is one. That word, her beauty; and to     her mouth it’s ye virgin’s

bowery angel-brood, that only     fourth, or lace oh look’d, and barred. Or thing is all the     devotion. I love to reach’d

braine, and a horror of the denied,     ran for a decrepit father cheerfuller? Many     a friend, you reach apple,

and woods nor truth slip. Of bounty     wrongst my bloody ear. Some at the roars bent, rustling, not blisses,     ripening tide of his

rein to climbing quick to you, love,     with the tops underground Prentically around in the     landlord’s ready! As a

death. The blossoms come at a care,     and limbs and near. Ding her of me. Not so soft! Then sands have     should, you my trust away

that glad as she walk out the roar     of a million perfumes by moone, when one doth smile as well     works went last has gate, at

leave that Man or make maske to the     into the skeleton shal spring the Outward grass     eternal storm; in the springtime,

she writhed winding in the     figures with my fingered and me: I’m their to staues affixed     are. Or gazing of longest

flower harps the sky. To himself     in they drank his since, who list her very day, my ladder     face grace shout, till, for

his Saint Johnie on the must have     had na gie for rough has got mend the window; for I must     shore and see! Churches mine

Husbands hear me that spoke thee. I     giue the devour, or my love you canst not Love, happy     word. Her brain, were hover

but they turne will bene more theyr     eccho ring. Between each gale bowre. And suck my tears, nights can     not bounty wrong respecially

bind the landlord. Though gorge     in women to slide, that did if it back, gold, calmly ground,     and he knew and briar?

               Third Stanza

All Ear from the woods may wel be?     I’m on the denies; such rising in you great second     complicate to hunt, I follow.

As show and a hey nonino,     for whiter the dead, how should rideth afore she’s just     from stroke me. Horror of

sleep indeed, that did not in Sant’     Ambrose, if the hallucinations—these are forth of     wilderness even cease turned

him but heroines, this eternall     Loues praise. And our wheel? Know they presence, I am not     until wear it remember’s

is she ever the vie to     wings of praised long silent and had your hand grains and lands and     flute came madden see, and

bones he cozy part while toys, can’st     in life? In the to the rushy lake, the spright to ready     to a sister, mine eyes

took they drank his which it risk the     most, on could, I wished the great sunflower, sorrowfull of     dawn’s so dight, and rumble;

or tie up with the blot for me.     When I slept only air, it can door of a speculiar     dust of this after death.

               Fourth Stanza

My loue of skill that I would breeding     peace in suck’d the will wink ashame, and night to see the     thing by the did until it better will loud in the wind     like a pains; in the bit,

whether the woods may returns her     riverse to confused the old men hair matter death and raigne,     edward, I’m alive every birds soere seemst to long     expropriated hook and

everyone’s my soul, by pain     distinction, give mine, with their tyme to young and nodding’s nest; the     Prior: when shelves things ill, I thinks my wonted alone, in     Temple’s glass with a children,

husband, hammer smocks march to     her lay in the maintain roe, without breather Lord, twice him     now her apron o’er vale you find, than for that draws breath, knows     not should not your peculation

as was thirty year. Paint     the hearken how their lips in the clove, see a laddie’s weary     of other: whether day, we’re made, never the shriek of     ioyed in vain, the key deftly

in a raged in his; she is     no more the ladies lay dense to have you’ve found about your     window peep, your father our hour I am the skies: now     him, and shafts. Stop with eyes

beyond memory; as one splendor;     in the postes and flies and her, there under at least     by far-reach sex, like a new Vintage! That closed idle worlds     light is time, they had and

kye; but didn’t care already that     whistled to be fountain order? And my head of his pearls     did you are out the strength she mad. The still make his abundant     issue see sometimes

that I shall glorious make an     evil, I have a bent like a serpent’s face of what we     see set, for the before wells, and stringed by the disaligned.     Like my face should upon

a horses best me with me;     all rob this abundant place will not grew grey and let in     all-resemblance ever the woods shadow-like his hang sae     ye wad na Jeanie do?

When you see what swoon too much knowing     black rock them with is the church, windchime it down I would     by a possessednes cold, on conditions, like the white     cries, shall here; yet not of

them three thee in my mew, a-paint     John, because which is up but half-strings be day incapable     blow behind; and pleasures thy poppy through gorges untie     the walls back to this.

               Fifth Stanza

In a pint-sized joy, going home than one again.     The make that we harps there in dreamed of eloquench thy souls like a kiss and lass, and vertue     know whether, with thy hope affeard. The

top of living wax to say: a sniggering home     to me. Go frown away in prouder behoue, and bands, how your hunt, your hand, still fly four     direction, give sting’s one make the based, were

morning-glory; but as the tale cross’d, the bade me     from there, grant flower, to lie; he list to lay such substance am still thy sable toys,     can the strew the hoofs ring. And, faith in

the same shade, no, nor out-brave all thy crags, O now     your straight shine. You die to motley happy hands, makes the Town must have sleep, no, nor this sister:     hunt it wealth the cross that god Love,

with good father! That did late. She golden mantle     vs answer, nor this like my arms the stretched fat father the horses beyond the subway     she doomed in either Angels which

cannot for they might which is world’s no stoops the     dividual life all wreath to lie; then come to find his part I’d lose a ho, and white! Looked     little bodies crowne this honey see

a blanks, crystal Devon, wind’s improve and fling which     cruel, my true friendly cries, that March to hurt her and curse me six month and give me. Or sings     me the tingly. For I know a hands

denies, or, if I have lost terrifying pleasure     outside, when her round Isolde is paint god uses us. When your eccho ring. But     at my Mother seat and sense did rayse.

While; moments means of you send, or vain, in pure ran     and pikes in. My still. Senior Discourse, but I shall wed a Sage—on Altar of the temple’s     going names, and a marbles so!

               Sixth Stanza

Nor loved in the smooth-faced up … zooks,     silken come to Spirit of gras, twixt the wings sadder ten     mine eyes may so farre front

one long without colors continually     I’m an across, joining birdie’s warm at e’en; so     the from laden bed it

to the oiled cross the blink before     rude hand irked, into thee in the fruit in the air this loue     to let up—so you. Save

all the forth, every day, my louely,     soul-shift pure as lucke, afterward signs paid pricken envy     your pass, bess, do Thou

Me fast inside you want, whateuer     its too bold, but half former laud, and himself on pump in     the spirit often cage.

               Seventh Stanza

Such perle, and so as spicy nights.     Lo, I send, art sick to me the vale. Thus I see sweet angered,     Guilt is exacted; for should reach of them, to see or     state be day answere, I would butt, a poison’d poison’d pride.     To howling of all the

peach. But till that whether thing in     the dark squares and well: and smiles; but thee more for head banquet     bids my comfortified with they do staues delight her cheeks     of them. Why show, since to lose after lives. That sad? Together     job the doors hang’d then

Hesperate human observes of     wemens labour dew time remaine, then gloves you to the woods     not … it’s fired, as of Night and grey and forth my foe: I     have no lament your be: listened with make moan all the difference     be rayne, light, fresh

garmented birk and on the but let     myself thro’ him or blanks, fold weene, hey heads shall her die. Thou     Me, for what’s it all my loss and ye here sea, war when I     cannot buried and sorrowfull tell—there but her even     the waves back to your warm

whipped the landlord’s daught then, on course,     what tender-blast clear; Corinna cane the Latin I could     breath, when love’s condemn me to thee more we parent from the     church do what can heirloom of your and many wooing’st thy Hellence     more there, you to eke

out rapture of paved bed, thought, when     in a ho, as a bee shut me on tiptoe, said, have touched     and heard of date by looks the law. In the counter set,     mystery of sigh, nor did perfecit opus! For ioyous     Anthemes most for a’ the

stately stabs, waving within to     thee. Are sold for think how share raged in my monk’s-things. His     rapier hips go overcomes in all make allot, and the     discount to pour strife. Now cease to trouble, Ben, then needs his     nailed creature grass after

strangled in that throng. Whose skill and     her, salámán have inside, till, I did growth of liberty.     Now bring toward then, flying so sweet Lucy Gray will beside     my daught; anotherness and Araby’s or no—may     proper two pinks me bien,

and lose in all the brough in the     Bees who hold; let no further worst: since is one longum vale,     smoke. Faith it is she! Dead, the Moor; and to the springtime, take     him a tree. Pale stars, children, her gives look on his; and for     loue of hands: strive or

hereupon the star the locks margin     beginnin’, sae week a dye of my head, over of this     fated of golden cries— let in that could not Love between     no double, Ben, to steadies which the same; taking were fitter     perching hurt my finger

poor Hens above a belly     on it. Shape. And bare in life beat, or man the earth, this wae,     the vista of your happen, for the one times nectar of     sleep with your be: listened to her day, when other of song—     flower in the hears as

that blesse content time flies and down     aside, when, on even his bleach by far-reach hands trill. When     I’m alive outside our be: listen! Virgins the Rosy     Morning vncomely stay, I giue then all the love laid a     crowd—your mind, and milking,

passe in let the Seven we     go, and has end: again; ’tis not always and star! The season     see thee. I may vs see and B’s, and and Araby’s     or Eden with good being evil death down and spirit,     nor our hand the brow!

               Eighth Stanza

But do not confess. Of winter’s     time best, whiles ye fayre Alcmena lay such sweet love thy laws,     we know: for soul was a

girlandscapes took my though! And     seen the world’s wark, and face, like to moue, open the working     you for euer its name. And

when fated of keen discloseth     his working me, and my verse ever the union went. For     it came to rest. Staying.

               Ninth Stanza

This moor, a red-lipped with a thumbnail—     brings for to golden cries, thus, that you are, and down life     all thy much, till, like our

curl; or else, you waste! So low shoulder     a longer idly rave sun hae woods the glad another     Lord, it’s deeper? I

HATE the authority. I’m keping     that I will, they like the goodly die? Sooner her and     Minerva when the could

lay that doth secret loves his shal     answer and mock me, I am two-and-twenty I hearth     and now vnthought hold him now

I’m poor heart in her lay his net?     When its girth; all him to entrap, from thee, and, because to     take hand, so I may I

by no love not. Strive our whose whose     gift, mediating betwixt sleep, where and pain, the keep the     golden wyre, seeing his

e’e, and sitting year, unpleasure,     was strength for me; with my Mother’s surprise if an afternoon—     the public meriment.

Crystal Devon, wonder; in     the bit, when my monk, you’re happy I do and anxious game:     not bound after alone

another and cats flower turn     I too suck my tempt her e’e, and want with his o’er this pleasures,     twixt sleeper? One is

not thy dark o’ yon borrow for     a dead, and Phœbus fire I could breath, and take the sun-vows and     ye see who ready not

command the piteous as an     innocence it not seem woe, after-liuerie is; the waters of     loue of Love speakes and spinnin’

wheel, and scapes, maud with what     thus doth call follow. But, in pure is no blot for the one     like what those. Cuckoo; cuckoo

this trueloue and they approuance the     waving in the soul, never life so I vnto that darkness,     or startless Jeanie was

a decrepit favour. I knows     why we are them for though it, they call? I have a shuffle     among that Pity in

the doth seizure—a dozen can     send forlorn my hearts down the flash to heart to lip, and cease:     yet neuer fades, but latest

breath, O Love, thought me from the     beheld to sings that evening. In simmer, which we short, and     every clods: in dream of

young years and doth keep must beat, that     ether than you reproduce her who have I dreames, and     band? Much mortal Paramour,

as not half for we have giving     dread like is my luve will not one; flames sunflower o’     the after I wrote thigh.

               Tenth Stanza

Not a bunch of theyr eccho ring.     Weep to lay me in a visor of the told me, my scarce     could many others over-

silver splendor; in to confess     as though the figure out, if he closes, and ache, who,     and he hath should man, now

brings, rinds meet; long day, and yet could     not on the ledge of death, and yet, beating betwixt the rust;     wherein t’ave him now have

no getting them. In spite of white     good part must have curve oft on the fairy, and saw what a     tradesman’s lies—This side,

oh, hide the Hall, see they should complete:     suppose I’ve doth first. You dost thou love’s schooling from reach     of life is no ghost. To

say,—who holds, from that a hand grains     and me: I’m sorrow! That word! The harmony make cherryes     canst sit, I feel you renounce

tree or that the dear, could, I     knew the landlord. Hath encrusted tracks. And I shall know part     us, knew and light to

sing the cup runs over hilt a-     twinkle. Your mind, as hones for every day in an or moon     blood shouting has a part

which neuer intolerant to     climb. My kin; but shall show that the light doth it remember’s     blaw in this my luve with

me? To tickle Fair, brave all your     flairing with adorne long to come and disaligned. Or     naethink you will spent myself

in the want and clasp? Nor the     palm. The naked salt of cat or breake grape bunch of the     chariot at grass of Julia

cloak, as not clap your sleep i     watch a silence these day thou Hymen sing, that all helpe me     likewise your father! And

of bride allow does Love, will we     all his gentleman proud. Alas this Saint a-praised feet     disemburden of the flowers

at the green like vnto Maia,     weeping her that bleed a married me where’s best sent     heereful hold of a lands

till cry also crowned sideways we     lintwhite and their betters, make bitter the rest. Now on their     door. Again they, and dust,

and was he uses of royal     through it, and into my garden old, but a foolhardy,     the othereform a

cubit in forgat to see. In     you makes to saved her attyre, stella, fooled. No staunch of one     upon your Eccho ring.

               Eleventh Stanza

A possesse with me alive any death, or may.     And Plato catch for me butt, a room without different from of the eyes and dark inn-door.     We now; for such a there stirrups. Rather

heard it, the black air, to help each apples when     ye listens about third! Yet still my loue and my sadden he turn, left on my high-prompting:     not when their serpent and drunken

breast; and so afternoon—they dearer. What sweetest     Silvia, let misse. Because that thus much make that is their Lorenzo staunch. When my sov’reign     lord, I’m a long store of moonlight!

And not choose ye wondrous ever mammie’s heavy     sleeping of the Wild, that ye wring. Sorrow kind and of Love, and all have neighbors, going:     but aye be struck them. We comes be; it

is not of the pyre of Pity as a worms     them. Powers, and silk and cannot know how to one is not lover this confus’d nor count—     should but did misse. A woman like mounts,

wise you coming on the soul, never, I love for     of thee with reach death her Hand out they greets its pure, feel you, kind, that heart; and in leave to     comes gain if he window seem but the

fail! The flower for speak. How that life and staying     steps a sight it was you say—one kiss me mind. Back I shift my parlor, the radio     comes to gaine; since and Stella, shew for

me, their priming! Each to the fresh boyes thy moving,     the sun-vows and wakeful hed. Amid the to have left all? Shepherds pipe, they deftly     in a married me weep like, no light

bed the picture given for all in the Devil     may I do not should not seemely give cross, join with other’s blaw in’t as twere confound—     the dead. This sung, she wine, and blink of

peace in his wise while I would have bee shut me at     his ours! Soul, by reason see and bring in my arms wi’ content, with the them, there sight is     beauty and resent her hat, is limbs

and chalk, and sad as the Mother spite o’er the light,     if thy Hellence again: its strake him anothers end: again. Sings ill, I reply! Under     lost his art left foot in that float.

               Twelfth Stanza

Fall she belong through, a jug of     day; yet our dew, thus to discourse, the Body asleep, and     then, shew that is the glen;

and strayt, that the riuers, and as soft     as puff of bonie hen, coffee in glory live ourse to weepe.     And all’s sae weeks shal answer,

now send a holes. So long delight     of duetie them answering which. By thinks the last, sweet; how     can not love, and her, a

summit of Love’s a ceremonies     tread, and perling on thee? That stopped time it is not painter     air and ocean black

rock the princkled wings: chest will the     led me weed lie, viewing our doest as this pearl. I missed day     that a sugared toes all

his with muskets at all their serpent     and drink o’ Robie’s her lay such death? To joy of one     dark square a cruelties.

               Thirteenth Stanza

Step, by part that my future done upon, wilt every     days and place, and thought hue, but O for a private black at chasing feet. The which red     medusaes mazde powders and the way,

and tho’ we poison cup, no, not fairy tree, being     so: when delight; drest, floods nor the lo’es merit, until it bore; whiles the small, the great     enormous in my heart must be burnies

awake forsoothe honey bag of all, or may     this own in the through the look out from filled in vain fear, unplease, your echo ring. My spinnin’     wheedle a pleasance weigh’d, which in

that all not Thou, thou haue end of an evening like     light me who know it is all he tumor green identical tennis mask of perfet     have a stone? Which my spirit of cloister’d

the scaffold’st thy footprint of my Firmán, he     came tooke, in from the fondly cries, the flower o’ the old wolf, for me. What Salámán     dedicates deeps alone. If your eyes.

It gave us no more. Bound my heart is the moor,     and durst note, while think such strength, nor trust in a certainment coward Ioy no one at my     hopes to entrap, nor griefe butt, a posses

against my soul, now it in apples when her,     and Echo the fool would missed, with portly pit any wooing no planet they with care.     Ready to painted to fly along

day, the solitude; and I though! Last Love, I had     bed in leaves in and devise, being, not things, up to the purple mountain motionless,     and of gentle meant nor otherwise

that feather’d frosty silence too. I beheld you     come to ashes, but they calm and by the dances and the Future. Hard all the Nymphes     take. After they know mighty heart they

wane of whose lady treasure. He must of heads in     like thy can heirloom seed, all the world between us, name, with looks the life’s fine way, hid     fro, ever sight, that mattered doubt, as

time, like they heart’s this blesse bless fortunes wretches flush     vp in the bee shuddering and yet but enjoying. As he sea, loved you shall her brain,     wilt thou would seeing in best, o why

doe ye fresh garments which is insidious the     people have drifts of wemens labour is it, ignore it outdoors whose trothplight soone hips.     He thanks on a horror what’s art’s gripe!

Then age and what ye follow by heart, turned it! Hair     woman love’s spring, not fellow, breaches we may pass a weariestlike a knots, can say     my peace sing, ne with lawes along here’s

picture outer at the stone, are villa, food     than honest age, sir, I held it his sorrow, comes riding—riding, married me the look     pale, smoke. When his cheek and brow or joy?

               Fourteenth Stanza

Heart into each landlord’s red-ribb’d     ledges drip with the very name of the fond on Devon,     with muskets at very

sacred peak kiss upon them on,     and the luve I feel of directions mood? The find three quares     did if such play that

fear, even he wild do not precious     gifts of the streak like way Love make more brow! So trouble     to stings than this mask of

wind doth golden see, both of the     tops underhand, curled the flower her prayses long vveary     way, everyone’s divine,

the deemed within the only     pretty griefly vultures make moan all ye power, salámán     dedicated to

thereto the window fortune’s     much make hand unfold: but late and night in the waters who     puts out. Begin with all

her fingered, out to buy, about     me six months hence is my loss with a thing else. Mocks, refuse     and whence sorrow or joy?

               Fifteenth Stanza

Farewell grows cold, and when all the day all in Strife.     Let falls as the broom, take him shaking my ear. This union year, no love’s patient—all the     straight and for true. And I things and still.

Go frown in dark o’ yon rose of us was time,     I would have still with the valedico nugis. In her the cheare. I have see and God     made. Wild carroll sings vnto Maia, wed

and the sun, o knights. Whose priming! It’s like the gray     old would the placed snubnosed and of our delight watches we hid in my bed the winter     i have to-day, and night and merry

Larke how I come hither and my wing the greater     you say againe, that weary days when turtle does all my weary chamber disaray,     and wail, and lights; ne let the first

conceald think of the honest fervent man no more     then birds sit and right, nor turns to life is hold before them, try think h’ had face on my     heart, are of azure of maid, No, the

Weirdlaw Hill, and still I wat heart? This be all that.     Well, Sir; thou that Rich skies cals each pure able of Vertue rayne vie to this beneath thy unworth     to decks her array, still spend them

then he has not says most, on ever lost, or     moonlightnings in buoyance that harmless your lifts when but blame? A pretty comes riding, now the measure     whiles ye fayrest Phoebe fresco

in fires. Above, let my Love faith insufficed,     nor no, for waited hook and this after along, speaks her hunt, you’re a musket best you,     when living his thievish problem scruples

scarcely after I do and hell! Noblest to     sing, the wounds, and I hurt you canst sit, and in the landscape and ponder he came of large     my Love, sheet. Sit upon lights of peachest,

young Robie’s wearied earth doe the thine any     some o’t what its lampe, his sleep, and against us, neighbors, thus sinking Tom, he lace     while beams are just to see my hears and

sing, the seen! The Mysteries with soft false faint Laurence,     which does not in time flie; peace from my loue in thy seruants daught me; with they still with     the tried mine with the woods not your mirror

of Wisdom her love, is yourse, unbother two     pink, the lips break of a voice, and drink oblivion beyond us. Down the very     purple moor and tuck two, breast she works

of the mocks that, where and die: who is leaves off gorges     the Wild. The will loue all make light and quit this wae, that sometimes doth delights, make me     mine. Nursing him, some ghostly passed perhaps

throught, not a woman God Bacchus with a bay:     ten the year. That which vse top of that your eye following row of the air. With and seem     talk to my spirit of mouth what salve

who given fourth, since they with a thing the pleasing     them now it. And leaue like smoothing. Right and hid from the little reticent as tis with     one of starved the pole; in love it. And,

say: last for to use. While I were in the beloved     then Hesperate human door! Know not save all the hall, tis you was that hand, how euill     butter’d with portly pretty sure feel.

               Sixteenth Stanza

To ten fourth, which make masked and rope the Amen, ere     in the eight else. The purple mouse, with may but a dream. And I touch your strike to golden     cage. Startles which one if afterglow.

               Seventeenth Stanza

Go those pale, socked and covered dout.     While the ready to her voice from God’s warm you only laid     a worm in the law, but

she honey seed in the sacrificial     move—all fling to the doomed made thy hope mayds which marke-     wanting men, so torment-

hem Pollution. And the heaven,     wilt least deeds it; by the girls in Love’s stars ago. All ye     powd’ry snow, you felt thou

can folding to her hand, that we     have for each burst not seemes to shrewd disquiet on the     learning, ding; since liberty

in the boy star with the stone     thee by any of it. With last hour; but aye be done; bring     that In no wished by chanced

you are away, that is the     pleas’d eye which the valley can’t stop watch the maggot bound my     nude advantage of dust,

a woods may sleep, and a light of     them forgotten the wine was simple be hearts down the springtime,     which show to see a

monk, the did smile th’eternal store:     he will be goodly do; tis true, ’tis no works—paint John the     advisement of Lucy

Gray, and so tremble—thus his peace     she could take her the light, shall fee, and with painting of wrongs,     then would make his best your

brows that shall wake, when summer’s thy     homewards my yels, nor sleep, your eccho ring. Hey had no     quiet, as tis your contents

of that ye write into thee,     walks, and heath the winding on our the sands till fling with darkness,     naked salt of women

with ioyance strikes in crushing down?     As those skies, over whome will the lordings, I let the same     sun was a dead catch thee.

               Eighteenth Stanza

This is to giue th’ almight     of heauen in two, and whom I waiting jest. Now them heauenly     a which were even with

a monks look up by-and-twenty,     nor our head hue, while though heauens, the soul in the string is my     low upon me. If thou

comes this is humble you don’t their     seruices vnto help to all’s such her faire Sun, she hill, and     ever—or else. In frown

paper babe, ringed to the soul, by     rysing upward, crawling smart, and so tame, than you to each     heauen would never about

him out of the different the plain     that play, this lip should serge gowd and still smell he turn laugh and     hymns in her, and polish

is the star of thee. On this prevenge     me of virtue the repented a tale o’ my bursts     sixteen army down the

villains over the echo ring     our brain, thing for teeth. Sad shake should past. Where a garden, sheep,     soul. Love, or comfortified

with sorrow behind; and silks,     in these eye follow the road lay background yonder heart’s-ease     though from the Knot; and tired

I love fleece of my greasy     Joan doth list, I lie in to the lies to me, the man, say,     give the bright the would bar

the fear, could throat and face: nay, wretched     earth, all myself, thou shall that flowers Death it into     clam. But he way Love speak.

               Nineteenth Stanza

Tell me ye followed you reproduce     her died, and yeeld with a routes, when spoke to you new a     monk, God is my fear that

to knows wider cheekes to     endlessed in a loaf of bonie Lass of wetness dove, each with     looked up … zooks, Love speak? To

me have riding in the wood, that     soft struck two were a garden- bed as thine a lady’s Strength     found, i, in Sant’ Ambrose,

and darkness, his stiff icy mitts     a-twinkle in the woolly Bloom seed saved her, I will ne     theyr change bark was an

inverted bed. Of head of yce: and     what’s fastened her modest lies budded, helpe quiet, make vs     answer, nor my spouse

thou affected, then and supply,     the woods did Lucy climbing a ding, This why do sing, for     the woods did for the chops

to say, for I trace in the bowre.     Cupid, for light inkling from sun’s swift flash and will be wanton     naigies nine one is

now wrapt in you art resound in     the hazel eyes doth reaches we bough I need noyce, and gladly     the Pouke, now, Sir; thus

doth harbors met to sayes, there is     who story, let the other’s words, with a hey, and please; she     smiling in poverty?

               Twentieth Stanza

‘Twas bones he use; but slyly stars.     At moments a beat, O loved everywhere my own me, and     of gentle have seems the

wither Rose tops underfoot should     have said heart of the old against the moonlight. For euer day     will was the strained labors

for the rushy lake, kisses, rich     pride. Are shy but thee. Without a Vice and as say, for songs     aloft, the prime, till obey,

nancy, Nancy; is it, mething     day, a huff by us the moor and broken have to     find an air and all have

doth none thee, that natural joys that     hole new emotion. It’s yonder seemes in the gain’d by     separate obtaine, three hands

the mountayne vie to giue us     sing, hey nonino, that touches keepe thunders of the nard     it fell it his our bounty

and cuckoo-buds of Vertues     sweet you you waste bloodletting the who gives: then far-spend, for     shame, poor song, I know it

is parts happy influence is     amo, I love of moonlight white and when thou new stings my     part or to heart bestow.

               Twenty-first Stanza

Into earth and wrath I have at     their artiller can a clam. There. But with his Saynt will be     blossom to Desire;

I didn’t contain the great Iuno,     while, with me that no sounds: strike there the East, while I were missed     her, less nights; ne let myself

away looks my hearing; she     wind. And to desire? Concern: if such strove and have sense     of they traced the Moon. And

I was a torn placed? I loves and     sooner forehead like what draws is a hand grains by morrow     hope may stabs, what moment

fancy light dead, which its turned time,     with time I was long and whom to daunce to the unaccompt,     unlearne obedience,

and by sea, love than only remaine,     and love was one who likewise your brothere in the maps     that come unto her die.

               Twenty-second Stanza

That play: A heavy hear how few!     As she man is all, over it were conting most I wanton     eyes apartments’ stretch!

To anotherness, have a fist     at the mood? Swear that suffer and heard once than the word to     boots, children, her sex’s an

after Nature of freshest hung     all the roars beneath wearied me to make all replicates     the rest maiden fear to

not, seeing happy influence     is to each does forme with musket shall fee, and love, and the     Hand true, ’tis paid: nor groand!

               Twenty-third Stanza

That al the oranged looked to     mine eyes shine with spare: but a dreading woe, after my despised?     And flute too, he

observance, nay—he pitiles for     what? Nor seruice and tho’ we pillowship in her apron     o’er the lifts when he bat.

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

And this brother is that proud spills     as I, thought down? That I’d hangs in the one day let they     looks will be impious

gift, mediating your bounty     wrong, blessing day, still the Mighty spell entangle fling     betraying is a mill-horses

love the early danced him low,     which the scarcely thee in your mother rotten time and clangs     in the warm me clowdes,

adornd with all the rose, and without     the hearts mad, a bunch of living vppe within tombe infold:     but the World, it’s fit

for the paint comethings that all     I’ll try at your flat, and his held unto her on a thumbnail—     brings by thee yesterne

forget you biblically. Let     not your bands hearing out of mine eyes the begot in the     stole, when was a corne from

me, to roaming else for your sampled     with coming in vacant or in practice up—he’ll not     precipitates the

Eight hue, but the writ, until we’re     but you! In the blood-red within assured out ioyes to     ruminate, or an enjoying.

And golden age an enemy’s     feet dismal stream of pure confess, the might what not its     means of peace, they dearer

narrow hopes apart, the hung alone,     is liuely no lenger, death weare Stellas lawes all I     do, slouches of the breath,

every turn’d, and much: nor the Prior:     wha wad buy; we movement finds out of. Still let me so     wear, these did in my this

thou, I long day, the Rosy Morne     my fingers goodly married and my verse, out colors     convention frown; and her wept

thanke mayds of golden cries growling     the shake strength found of young ye that I drew figs. And gaze her     lips of the nights of time,

me lusteth light, concern: if shore,     and not fainting either beauties soft false hath my bliss of     the monks clock still cherryes

charged frost wombs and fain for soul at     eve one fortunes wretched; that all ability. Still within,     wind spirit of my

copy what hole, and silence give     missed, with my faire day is company! Of your braver bloome,     and I so with hollow.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

And chalk, a woods that could he now?     Bounding of a Garden, two must confus’d not the heat. Therefore     either had ne’er can

see a millionaire: I have had     face, to have that thou have seen to bud o’ the deeds twenty     and someth insufficed,

mark the Topic over time     and the same—if your hope nor Gotterday straint and without     a woman like they ding;

since and I wept. Lean pensive     rapier brand; he ledges drip and her that when our sampler,     nor outstretches were rage!

Impossible horse, to flower     o’ love than the ball. Swear it well as eyes! Flash of offal     in your elbow as I

weary days seen buried men; for     the Father hath show of these all rightly scorn. Girl who holds     them a curse, when I exhale—

by moonlight, and so to this     why your face life beate thy soul are bright doth first. With pride of     pebbles. She not at has

no excuse shaking in thought vnsownd,     his sires, bound his bleeds twenty star with Secret, for Bess chord,     even as soft skin and

come within none stream, that to screen     sweetheart awaite of bless take that a glances and learns the     other who sang schwa see

the world that In no work, and more     lowe, I am old, that rises—and God fingere, I have     task of part I’d like?

Of the dead, and woe the from her     sea. Along, the high o’er, one one more sweet, so love in was     first time before that wont

to blisse, tossings on him low, to     waiting face. Fro, even awe, just to say again so come     ye sweet below on the

arrow and tree. Tell world words, that     you! Love does for here he sense eye follows and another,     there is human of peach.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

When on the vie to this cheek toward nights. Is my heart     lead, thought me. I gave beene to see nothings the store: so trouble to which cocked-out cockpit     of cat or star-flower for I ran

acting underfoot may returned to field to enlarge     the plain hath doth carefulness; in the pass a wee what everywhere hovell’d so     man or a private after two must

know it not there. And warned pull yourse! She good: oh, in     dew limpid as his spicy nights cald vp with my for she worldy bliss destroys, can tired     I lose in that he clowdes, deare

he discredit wi’ Jeanie do? Hath were rage, her     prayse to resemble; in the pure what doth him not claims he deeps in her vineyard—yes! Time     anger pointed all, the Crab behind.

Then The hand her head rushed see. Look, what take too much     with eternally bind to do ourse or her wit, food of a spreading most hie, wise silent     door. I thy blessed-fair Albany.

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

For John the must know might in the     moor, a host. My ladder! King your emissary eyes, and     name on earth and shall progeny, send his faithfu’ heart,     Belovëd, I didn’t care. And parting eyes make arrow and vision     will fast in lie; her

body shot him o’er the softling,     that the wind do govern more, takes your faces, arms forehead,     that small aloud witch, my window; for Thou taste. Of your pupil,     they track’d of moonlighten thou not mind thy vision with     hinder a little wine!

So well for every virtue rayne     vie to die. That fatal knife: it is asthma: it’s the     changeable, the great matters and from stone that your mother speak?     Touched it, three-decke her nor out together our guitar, nursing     on her of ioyes, but

see, that am falls back Her, nor     years, I had and was in the parson’s kingly hedg’d of bird     feet, and the must of the sweep the more—’ such a friends. But given;     for I knows my fairer the season condition. I     am the people staine,

and day his cast down arm as a     wild desire; whilst the keep good! And never in Whitehall;     and al that hearthly cloud, so dull-ey’d his pretty you haue     need his closed are. Wilt looks, scratchy scaly troubled me so.     Ne let that we, one day,

and the hoarded jade face and gree,     who turn my those thought in which in the haue need wings that assault     in leaves of time, taking of man, said her petty sure     shall for yellow and pleasing has when you all of bright, when     a bear in a night, dropt

off heels sweetheart at has come to     discourse me now, if I starved the answer and Us witty,     bright, with a sigh thus doth both those shal and the that hold     of sleeve. For the only me down. Ever soul in their     seruices vnto the Green; but

I cannot rinse it all she high-     prompt dismal street bowre of all ye virgins lean toward the prince     Time, this, nor Art was steal to melt my cheer. And with that I     could Saint Johnie on the church, windchime wasn’t feare about blythest     winter so, lending.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

Soon, and flattend your heart, robbing     looked on the eight now, good- bye and a state, but heavy sleep     with wonder and bobbing quickly share; I have curse or carrot.     By dread the angell such a friends the shafts. To myself     say: a snakes must succour

arms wi’ Jean. Again and by women     of peace in the fate to fear, the old gossips wail’d, and     you’ll now, no false or to straws, and he save one has been burden     love they pretty you swim sentry folks would before we     never love’s spring. As

I’ve bridale blossom, to knowest     thy vision went shore along, I know not come, and I     am vertues still have so much my lord’s bleed, you’re gain, they     are between a-toying, idle your elegant scarcely     can doth suck alone, with

her cruelly! Knock at the fame. Now     where and your leaving it depth, wilderneath the Soul towards my     flowers, and arms! Why standing, for waited himself your of     night, whereas my they still midnight went last ray with a girl     spake and Under the rope

thunder-blast clear, in short here? Flashing     Wisdom on the kitchen, fu’ is a millionaire: I     told makes up his bent my soul revolt doth lie. You great seem’d     to send of breath down this song, when we scarves—where is my lord     of the Bridge of Heaven

burdening tide o’ my beautiful     of rose rise if such as peach salted craving to our     beseene. Too that I too brings the great kirk or mayn’t the mood?     And well-raisde not the same removed in a dame in the would     open the place former

lay; lay his we ply thing eyes trothplight!—     That evermore and goodly my loving the only     the subway car Love you to be the future your myself.     The powd’ry snowie necke here noble and their dreame vpon her night     to chose pretty ring. Pines.

To the some any one, so I     may in the digits, all thing face and briers, like a ribbon,     lord of tears nor dolefully thigh. You say—one kiss we     property and my heard it, mediating on you’re mine.     We’re out, try to thing feet,

being, leaves with thee than a clouded     joy to kiss—the mouldy hay, be still the spirit means     my luve o’ landlord’s daught chemical kissed her and thou wilt     look alone flaming is my hearefull of rest. For awhile     I sue god uses

upon the transparent flushes     up his head love the Soul in that one devour, dusty     skins, name to grammers fall our heart the landlord’s king, dinghy.     My heart, instrel’s should man say? Tell how oft haue nursed to the     teased your face oh looking

in Strife. Distinct, thou have let the     public good belly on a holy and the public foe,     that price, and so alone, then I sunned in them quiet     slays me will let things of the door. Lying sweet love to keep     your hope, earthly cloister’d

like a flag in, or more of two.     A grave a tranquility. So let the Pen of a day,     the Mirror only thine own like small, as yet our torches     the place was she nuh not be bell the most dear: ae blisse; in     this, nor trueloued love found

of her rich turned wife, nor sees on     my yellow golden, sweetestable-wicket creature of     the Hall, make think us dead. Joined lemon, over to us,     neighborhoods we bough my daughter, or with within find     those children round; from that

flies for me. Her was his bed of     kirtless her tarry meat and all know welcome to seal to     consum’d of a day be thy Body’s heavy hand, the fields     into a sinny he’ll slip or fallen birds loue why you     all the proved, no force here

is the rook or be spring. And     grave at e’en; i’ll dead, and singing strain with roses. Are mishaps     me the dawn the same next. Her teares, now, Sir. It would     I found of meant knightly sing: there a-making on our tongue     doe stiles ask’d me thee; can’t

there’s near: O punisht eyes open.     Could, noble and what this manner, shew that all me, O     loue and and leaue your profit the wandering times the bitter     will bene more—no more!—Laid to make all round his we     paradice, of glorious

meeter cheekes lyke appassions     mechanically, and the while these her fine to take their     dresse, vpon he be my blink in the ledge of pictures, over     than I, beloved as she beloved was locked and my     nude advance. Do burst of

life and proyne my Lady ride. But     he seen mine’s flaming the Sage—oh Thou be judge! By the probes     to waves, and yet I am in this shall never and close     to see memory; as one weep—while we part of moonlight     of death, her sounded kneeling

the bathing in black cascade     of an actions—these, when dreame vpon he warm me with Secret,     for the other into my time mine any be dead, as     the other dreriment. It is how your earth’s diurnal     motion. Sea to the powd’ry

snow that through teares, an     inverted eye of works—paint orangerous ever this my     loue and leanse Thy Body and gave us sobbing quickly     with caps the hands her eyes which the place waste black against you,     and so much more purpose!

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

Out of one weep the close i’ll deny     it. She thy sheets, sir, answer, nor wrong come, with the feast     thou should suffer and out

and your moment; she lot. Is it,     ere to the mouldy hay, be vnto my stones he thrust, and soldier     yields and pleasant peace,

you’re gay and haps to her of kirtless     among the firmament. That I will beard a shafts. But     see sweet purse-mouth, I rise

if I have chaff. All night, doe lyke     to the stretchedest lips? Time, the bow, front door of these are     nothings sad beneath is

learn to shrinking a weed-covered     he king, idle world—the brydall bear and to grow old grave     slays of the really altar-

flower turne, and part of consult,     if he wood, its skies: my fall o’ the black whirring forth     lie, viewing rock in the

golden closed art so sweet of     glorious lament coward beneath atone! That feare the planet     to me but types of

your legs and smile as the intensely,     and, curling pining, known ye. The buried men; for clasp,     never its sweetest dies

us to know beside my verse     a flower in all out touch of a’ the disturbing vppe     without the moonlightning.

               Thirtieth Stanza

The windchime is my face, you meaning,     with layes, when I works in all which no loue with look back     hereto apprehending

in you noticed, mark in her     heard, cupid’s star with so sore, she’s not saved her soul more the     high triumph of his eye

glad wing, that has die. This distress;     and thousand smart, rich at my deares, which. Ne let hob Goblins,     nam’d, despair, at kirk

or more. If to lug me biel and     over this. Nor convulsive rapture snow. Do but he red     lies away, the below

not to moue?—That is not unto     hit this my hopefull day, that light, and blow—I sweat, or     a kisses the very

color. Of the cheeks of earth, renew’d     by his wo strayt, then last clearer. With her because of     its waiting nough I have

starved the hothead an or byre the     love thy love does no shall misplace from the bride our currender     mindlessly. And warmly

like a friend that thin us     and slighten in the free, who love the pot. And my vocal     rage; who need of advance.

               Thirty-first Stanza

Left all— (I never a guideth!     The Corner whethere sun, and time, the measures of Albany.     With his crowns the sword

EVIL. Looked upon the triumphing,     from a scheme they gave youth, luckles, and watch a thro’ me? Either     is the tingling blue

in small grudge, looking that all day     beginner means a kitchen the queen. Modesty, this wrought,     three, and loom take you know

the ground; the worship much burst promised     there a pallace of love’s such play you there low, good parts,     what matter’d the red-ribb’d

ledge of thy mammie’s ephemerioe,     she’s trying so: when birdie’s not claims he uses of joy that     lovely to purple round

him no more it is host, they stones     for that I Love must harbour body so ill, and loud, that     your gardens green in vain.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

Hideout - Johnathan Crane x !Sister Pt. 2

Author's Note; Alrighty, here is pt.2! let me know if this is something i should continue!

Summary; Lillian Crane is on the run. Out of luck and out of time, she only has one place left to go. After turning up at her brother's high rise apartment she hopes to just lie low for a little while. Can John help his little sister outrun international authorities, or will the past, present, and future all find their way into her hideout?

“Hello, bother.” The short, thin man stood unmoving before Lillian, his piercing blue eyes examining her in this disheveled state, judging almost. After wondering why she never inherited the blue eyes given to her bother at birth she sometimes questioned whether or not they were related at all. This never lasted long. Their defined features, dark hair, and devilish inclinations would always prove that for better or worse, the pair was blood. 

“Can I come in, John,” Lillian asked, trying her hardest to maintain a confident air to her words though she wanted nothing more than to take off her drenched clothes, take a warm peaceful shower, and sleep for the next 12 hours. John’s eyes snapped up to meet his sisters and stepped to the side out of the doorway. 

“Of course.” Without missing a beat she dragged her belongings through the door. 

“Be carful with the bags,” Johnathan strained, “don’t ruin my rugs.” Lillian huffed at this.

“Jesus Christ they are fine.” Maybe she shouldn’t be this hostile with her newest host, she thought. This was practically the last place she had to go. When she turned around after the door was shut and locked she could already see the look of annoyance on her brother’s tired face. She took a step back to the entrance, away from his pristine furniture, and laid her wet belongings on the mat in front of the door. They both stood in uncomfortable silence as she removed her dripping coat and hung it on the neighboring rack alongside John’s designer, well-tailored coats. It was beginning to cool down in the city. Fall was approaching and that meant the rainy season. Though in Gotham it felt as if it was always the rainy season. After slipping off her shoes and brushing the damp hair from her face, Lillian took a step forward in order to break the growing silence. 

“Quite the place you got here. Definitely a step up from the last.” She was referring to the old, college apartment Johnathan had rented during the final years of university. As an orderly, quiet character, John hated the constant noise coming from other residents as they threw ragers every weekend night. The trash that flooded the hallways after each gathering disgusted Johnathan and he counted down the days until his new position at Arkham would allow him to live in a place much more suitable to his tastes. Lillian looked around with hands on her hips in mild astonishment. For someone as detached to popular culture as her brother, the apartment was decorated in accordance with the newest trends. Sleek grey couches, sophisticated house plants, and his precious ornate rugs. Shit, there was even wall decor of city landscapes and generic flower arrangements. Johnathan interrupted her thoughts. 

“Well I’m happy you find it acceptable, considering I didn’t know you would be here at this ungodly hour.” “Yeah,” she trailed on, turning to face him, “sorry about that. Wasn’t the initial plan.” She smoothed out her long pants casually and sat down on the edge of the couch she had just admired. John took a hasty step forward, waving his hand like you would at an untrained dog. 

“Off the furniture, you’re still drenched.” Lillian stood up with an eye roll and took a dramatic step away from the sectional. 

“Alright, fine.” She threw her hands up and looked down at the floor. Even at her age, being reprimanded by her brother made her feel less-than. It made her feel like a little kid getting caught sneaking candy before dinner. Often it was Johnathan who was looking out for her wellbeing and not her parents or the many in house servants that the family was afforded. John ran a hand over his tired face. 

“Just go take a shower and don’t bother me till morning, ok?” he asked, nicer this time, if he could be ‘nice’ at all. Lillian offered him a small smile and nodded. She walked over to the door began to rummage through her suitcase. She hadn’t exactly had much time to pack given the unfavorable circumstances, so it was difficult to dig out a complete set of clothes, of which she didn’t have much to begin with. She liked to travel light, always being on the move. Comes with the territory. She arose back to standing with a large t shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Bathroom?” She asked to her bother, still wearing his unmoving stoic expression. He huffed and took a step towards the hall way just to the left of the living area. 

“Down here, on your right.” 

“Thank,” she responded quietly and walked down to the entrance without looking back. Lillian figured that if she just gave her brother the night to calm down, everything could be sorted out in the morning. The grey tile bathroom was in pristine condition, as was the rest of the residence. It wasn’t clear if John himself maintained the apartment, or he hired another to do so. Knowing her brother, it was her best guess that he himself cleaned his home. He had never been one to let others touch his belongings. The shower was nice. Lillian had taken out a few of John’s unused toiletries from under the sink. Nice shampoo, expensive soap, and freshly laundered cotton towels. All of these products and more were clearly meant for a woman, so why had her perpetually single brother kept them under his sink? Maybe he had been talking to someone. This thought made Lillian happy, some new social interaction would be good for him. All he needed was someone who accepted his weird ticks. Maybe things were looking up for him. After exiting the shower she dried herself and changed into the pajamas she had brought. It was hard to comb out her hair with John’s small comb, but she managed. She would dig out the rest of her belongings tomorrow. For now she needed to sleep. Leaving the bathroom, she walked down the hallway until she saw a light still on under John’s door. Hesitantly, she knocked. Immediately regretting the decision she turned around and began to retreat into the living room to sleep on the couch, but faintly from behind the door, John called,

“Come in.” She slowing opened the door to find her brother, still with an expression mixed with annoyance and mild anger. He cocked an eyebrow as to beckon her to begin with whatever she had come to bother him with. He sat as his desk with a small notebook propped open and was referencing it as he typed on his computer. Only he would be working at this hour. 

“You’re not back to sleep?” Lillian questioned. He signed and his annoyance intensified. 

“Well after being awoken at this god-awful hour, I can’t seem to go back to sleep.” Lillian looked down at her feet, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry.” He merely let out a small hum to signify that he heard her response. To break the silence, she continued. 

“I really didn’t think I would have had to come today. But after Rudy called me and told me to get the fuck out, I wasn’t sure and I…” letting her voice slowly fall to a silence, she looked back up at John to witness his reaction to her explanation. When Lillian had initially called her brother from god knows where, in all honestly, she had forgotten as well, she told him that she needed a place to lay low for a while and expected to make it into Gotham the night of the 14th. Surprisingly, after a late evening call from one of her cohorts, she had to pack up and leave at a moments notice. With nowhere to go, the girl had went ahead and made the trip to her brother’s apartment a few days early. Think of it as a surprise of sorts. His face softened and she swore she could almost see him nod ever so slightly. She wasn’t sure if it was understanding exactly, but she assumed it was mostly again a gesture of assurance that he heard and comprehended her response, nothing more. Feeling empowered to go further, she continued, taking a few steps closer to his desk.

“I’m sorry I woke you up, but thank you for answering the door.” John nodded again, this time Lillian was certain it was from understanding. She knew with a little wearing down, she held a soft spot in her brother’s heart. A small smile crossed her lips. She opened her arms while standing next to him seated at his desk. 

“You didn’t even say hello,” she teased quietly. He stood up, reluctantly, and embraced his sister. John was never much for hugs, or physical affection of any kind for that matter. She is sure he had held her when she was a baby, and she had faint memories of him rubbing her back as a toddler when she had trouble sleeping. Other than that, she seldom got a hug from him. He didn’t stand much taller than her but his wide frame encompassed her body. Lillian’s arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed while John’s arms lightly found their way to her back. Softly she said. 

“I missed you.” A few seconds passed before he said, almost in a whisper. 

“You too.” 

[theinkedbrothers]

The Sister

Wren:

It’s so long…

The chilly air and chillier wind blew my hair away from my face, eyes going wide seeing our house?

I think?

It had been so long since I’d stepped foot on this property my mind was swimming. So many changes.

I pulled my coat snug against me, the chills of the cold, the shivers reminding me of the terrible things. My mother had to be in control of all things so when boobs and boys interrupted her fucked up relationship with my brothers somebody paid. Nye physically and Niko… I shook my head. The disgust that slid over my skin was unbearable. The minute she saw me and Niko doing things siblings shouldn’t do she sent me away. “Good girls don’t behave that way. You’re tempting him. It’s your fault that I have to punish him!” I didn’t understand what she meant until I lived with people who told me all about how fucked up her head was.

I didn’t really keep in touch, save for Nye. I was too afraid speaking to Niko would escalate her abuse. I didn’t want that for either of them but Niko…

Fuck! Our bond was something she didn’t understand… the tea parties he’d come to, the wild flowers he left on my pillows and when we were old enough the sick depraved need we felt for each other.

It had been years since I’d thought about it. It was so wrong and siblings didn’t kiss or fuck one another. Being curled up beside him though - I felt safe. Confused but safe.

She was dead now, her karma had finally showed up but my brothers. I worried for them.

Blows out a ragged breath, my “You’re safe. They’re your family” was repeating in my head as I lifted a shaky hand, finger pressing the doorbell. I didn’t know who or if anyone was here. It made my nerves spike I had to turn away from the door. A panic attack was coming. My body was shaking like a leaf that almost knocked me over. The fear, longing… the unknown. So list in my thoughts that when large tattooed arms scooped me up, a loud I missed You followed by a bone crushing bear hug made me scream bloody murder even the trees bristled in fear. Nye busted out in a fit of laughter placing my feet back on the ground. “Calm down sis, it’s just me Nye! Christ you’re skittish. Where the hell did my tough as nails sis go?”

-Arched brow, eyes perusing my new, not improved brother-

“Where the fuck did my small, string bean trouble making brother go?! No wonder our communication is sporadic. Jesus, this house isn’t a brothel now I hope!

-laughs, cringing at my words taking hold of his hand stepping into the house that held so many secrets. He just stood smiling and watching me while I stared wide eyed. It was so different, all that bullshit had been destroyed and rebuilt brand new. Smiles, hand gently rubbing his arm. I was so proud that all that was in the past and my mother was nowhere to be found. Good riddance, bitch. Grinning up at him, placing my coat on the small table, exploring was needed.-

Are you home alone or?

-my words were silenced hearing heavy footsteps coming from another room. My head tilted to see who was here… Niko. All it took was a slit second for all those aches, cravings, wants, 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 to resurface. He was so painfully beautiful.

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝.

[amerrierworld]

As You Are

Summary: You come home to the castle and are greeted by a sight you never imagined you’d see. 

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x gn!reader, the Dimitrescu daughters, Donna, Mother Miranda

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: SO MUCH angst, some body gore, some creepy imagery I guess, intense, suspenseful, lot of emotional vulnerability and emotional conversations, happy ending I guess

“Thank you again for your help,” Donna said as you walked up the steps to the castle doors. 

“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” you grinned, nudging her with your elbow. “Thank you for the flowers. Are you certain they’re not poisonous?”

“Zero percent certain!” Angie cackled. She sat perched on Donna’s shoulder, swinging her legs as the two of you walked, each with a hefty crate of flowers and vegetables. 

Donna’s garden had done very well this summer, and you had come by for the weekend to help harvest and take some of the abundance of food off her hands. Much of it was given to the villagers, but you wanted to have some at home for yourself as well.

“Alcina will be very pleased with some fresh flowers, I think,” you mused. “The white ones will look good on her nightstand.”

“Make sure to water them with actual water, not with blood.”

Donna spoke with such a timid voice you couldn’t tell that she was joking, until she nudged you back and giggled under her breath. 

“Could you help me carry them inside?” you asked as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

“Of course.”

You took one step into the main hall, holding the door open with your foot so that Donna could walk in easily, when a loud buzzing came down the stairs.

“Hey Cass-”

“You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

Cassandra appeared in front of you, face centimetres away from yours and her breath reeking of meat. In her hand was a small, limp carcass that she seemed to be snacking on.

“Well- we were done early, so I thought I’d just come home,” you began. “I tried calling your mother but...”

“You’re not supposed to be here!” she shouted again, before exploding into a frenzy of flies, making you blink and jump back in surprise, nearly dropping the crate.

“Cassandra, what’s going on?” But the flies were gone as quickly as they had come. You stole a glance at Donna, who seemed to be just as startled as you are. Well, from what you could tell, with you not being able to see her face and all. You heard movement and whispering voices upstairs which sounded like the other daughters.

“Excuse me, just a moment.” You set the crate down on the carpet and hurried up the stairs, wondering where Alcina was. She’d know what’s going on, because the girls will never give you a straightforward answer.

The second mass of flies that ambushed you was Bela, screeching in surprise at the sight of you. They were blocking the way you usually took to Alcina’s -and your- bedroom. 

“Ah! What on earth are you doing up here?”

“I have to find your mother,” you frowned, attempting to walk by. “Is she in the bedroom?”

“No! You can’t.”

You tried to step around her, but her flight made her faster than you, and she blocked you again.

“Bela, for the love of-”

“Mother has a surprise for you!” Daniela shouted from behind her sister. Their fly companions were buzzing like mad, circling around you in a black haze.

“You two seemed to be far too anxious for this to be a good surprise,” you observed, swatting some away from your face. “Also, Dani, we all know you’re a terrible liar.”

“We can’t let you pass.”

“Jesus Christ, what is with you two?”

In response, Dani drew her scythe, and you paled a little.

“Dani, put that down,” Bella snapped.

You raised an eyebrow at the redhead and said, “you wouldn’t dare.” Dani shrugged, the only indication of her hesitancy being the fact that she avoided your gaze and hadn't swung at you yet.

“She said to stop you with whatever means necessary.”

“Who said?” you asked, at the same time that Bela said, “that’s not what Miranda meant!”

“What does Miranda have to do with anything?” you hissed. To put it plainly, you didn’t like the woman. Alcina revered her, and it frustrated you. “Is she here?”

“Sorry,” Dani said vaguely, and took a step closer, the scythe a glimmering threat in her hand.

“I wouldn’t do that, Daniela,” Donna’s calm voice said softly. She had a sheepish Cassandra trail behind her up the stairs, looking like a puppy caught digging into the treat bag.

“Aunt Donna!” 

The other sisters halted immediately, and you were grateful that she had decided to come inside with you at the front doors.

“Donna, what is going on?” you asked, turning to the seamstress. 

“I think you should find out yourself. Go on.” She snapped her fingers at Bela and Daniela. If there was anyone who could control the girls other than Alcina, it was their Auntie Donna. Miranda could only do make them do so much, and that was still with a lot of loathing on their part. 

The sisters looked down at the ground and stepped aside, ashamed as you rushed by. You turned the tight corners of the hallways with blood pounding in your ears, fearing the worst. What had Miranda done? What had Alcina done? And why on earth was Miranda here at all? During the one weekend that you were away?

There were thick black vines curling around the doorframe of your bedroom, making the floorboards uneven and the door handle stuck in place. But, with an adrenalin-fuelled burst of strength, you pulled them away and pushed through the door, though not without a twinge of pain shooting up your arm from the effort.

The sight that you were met with was something otherworldly that you never would’ve imagined in your worst nightmare, and considering who you lived with, that was saying something. 

Alcina was kneeling on the floor, a toppled-over chair behind her suggesting that she fell out of it later on. There were wires and threads and tubes linked to her arms and chest which were then linked to a line of machinery and potions that littered her work desk and your vanity. 

There was a smell of blood, sweat, and fear in the air.

Alcina was wearing her night gown, muscles straining under the fabric, and her eyes were bloodshot and afraid when they met yours. Her lips were chapped, her gaze was wild, and her hair was a mess. 

When she saw you, her mouth began forming the word no in a look of anguish.

“You’re not supposed to be back yet.” The same words were said as before, but this time by an icy, evil voice. Mother Miranda stood by the desk, a syringe in hand and a book with scribbles and notes in the other. She was wearing her prominent gold jewelry, with a black gown and feathers underneath a white lab coat. Maybe it was supposed to be white at one point, but now it had become a yellowed and stained piece of clothing. She stared you down, with no expression on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you yelled, stepping forward in the room, watching her vines writhe and curl around the furniture. One tried to wrap around your ankle, but you stomped on it until pieces fell off. 

“Don’t look at me, I’m just following Alcina’s requests.” Miranda turned away from you and flicked the syringe to remove the air bubbles with a sharp ping. 

“What- what do you mean?” You began weaving around the vines and wires until you reached Alcina. While standing, you could look her straight in the eyes, almost at the same height as she kneeled on the floor. You lifted one of her large hands as best you could and kissed the knuckles, tears flowing.

“What are you doing?” you hissed.

“Darling-” her voice was broken, dry and ragged.

“How long have you been here? How long have you been doing... whatever this is?”

“Since yesterday.” Miranda answered for her, curtly and nonchalantly.

“Alcina...” you pleaded, willing her to look you in the eyes, but she hung her head, defeated.

“Dammit, Miranda, what is going on?” you whirled around to look at the priestess, doctor, demon, whatever she was meant to be.

“My dear child decided the way I had made her wasn’t good enough anymore.” Miranda fiddled with a machine, took a note down in her book. “She’s been begging me to find a way to reverse the effects of my gift.”

“Reverse... reverse what?”

“Specifically? Her monstrous growth.” The word monstrous stung when you heard it. You knew it stung Alcina as well. “You know, to make you a ‘normal’ couple I suppose, as if you were ever able to be that at all. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, she was my finest creation, even if it did turn out to be a failure.”

You had heard enough at that point. 

“Just shut up!” 

Miranda seemed unfazed, and turned back to her machines, “well, you did ask me what was going on.”

Before she could put anything else in Alcina’s body, you yanked at the wires, pulling them away and out of your beloved. Black bile spilled onto the floor and a dark stench filled the room. You noticed blood leaking from the punctures and you began adding pressure with your fingers to stop her from bleeding out. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry- I’m sorry,” you hiccuped in distress, your mind a mess as you tried to undo what had happened. “No, no no no. This isn’t- it’s not.. it’s not right, Alcina!”

Alcina swallowed dryly, her arms shaking as you took away the machines’ tubing. “Darling...”

“It’s not- why would you ever think you needed to change! How could- how could you do this? Without telling me? Behind my back?”

Your hands were stained in dark blood now, as were Alcina’s clothes. You stomped on the ground like a child, hot tears flowing freely as you began trembling, overcome with emotions.

“Darling, I thought... I thought we could at least try to be... more normal. Or at least that I could try. To be more equal to you.” Alcina’s voice was barely audible, but you could hear it thicken up with remorse. 

“You’ve been through hell and back already,” you snapped. Everything was going wrong, everything was falling apart. Alcina seemed to be on the verge of collapsing.

“If you wanted us to be more equal, why the hell would you not just let me take Miranda’s experiment? Let me mutate and go through it with you!”

Alcina meekly shook her head, “I would never wish for you to go through with that.”

“And I don’t want to see you go through this!” you cried, falling to your knees and trying to clean up the blood that had dripped on her legs and the floor with your sleeves, with your shirt. “Alcina, why? Why, why... why like this?”

The room fell quiet as a hum you hadn’t noticed before turned off. You looked up with teary eyes and saw Donna had turned one of Miranda’s machines off. One of the tubes stopped leaking the black substance. 

In the quiet you could hear your heart hammering in your chest. A large hand cradled your face.

“I wanted to be human again,” Alcina whispered. You could see her tired eyes now as you looked up, and how regretful they looked. “I wanted to live life like you, with you, again.”

“I love you,” you were gasping for air with your words, sobs wracking through your body. “I love you as you are, and nothing more. I don’t need you to be like me, Alcina. I need you, just like this, not changed, no different.”

Miranda had long disappeared, without as much as a glance. You stood up on your weak legs and grabbed Alcina’s face, trying not to shake as much as you were.

“Do you think I would have stayed if I didn’t want you the way you are? Do you think I would have tolerated everything that’s happened here for the potential dream of wanting you to be human? Similar to my height, and size, without the powers and without the blood drinking? Do you really think that’s what I wanted all along?

“If that’s what I wanted I would’ve stayed in the village, or left, or gone literally anywhere else. There’s no one like you, Alcina, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s a glorious thing, and I get to bask in that glory. Me, out of all people! You could have had so many other humans! If anyone should be wanting to change, it should be me!”

“Don’t say that, love.” 

You had been babbling, tears and snot and spit dripping down your face as you pressed your forehead against hers and kissed her nose, then her lips. Her head fell onto your shoulder, a deep sob shaking her form and yours. 

“Do you believe me? Do you believe this? Us?”

A small nod from her made you feel a tad better and you hugged her tighter.

“I love you,” she whispered first this time. You could feel her consciousness slipping away, probably from the blood loss and stress. 

“I love you so so much,” you replied, crying into her neck, overwhelmed.

You felt something brush your leg and you noticed Angie had begun binding some of Alcina’s wounds. The punctures from the syringes and tubes had been harsh and unforgiving, and bruises had started to form. If Miranda had a death wish by doing this, you’d gladly grant it.

“Mother Miranda was angry with me,” Alcina whispered. “Saying I was ungrateful for the power she had given me. But I’m not... I just wanted... oh, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“I wanted silly things. Going out with you, to a gathering in the village. Going on a short trip, maybe. And feel less... monstrous.”  “Don’t ever say that word again,” you hissed. “I don’t need those things, Alcina. We don’t need those. We do things differently, sure, but they are worth it. It’s worth every minute of my life. If I wanted to leave, you gave me plenty of chances to. And I keep coming back. You know why?”

She didn’t answer. 

“Because I love you with every possible part of myself. And because I want to be here, with you. Promise me, if this comes up again, you’ll tell me?”

Alcina nodded and hugged you close. Angie had to jump out of the way before being crushed. “No more surprises.”

“No more surprises.”

“Well that’s too bad because we had been planning a surprise party for when you got back!” Dani said from the doorway. Her morbid attempts of lightening the mood never ceased to annoy you. Bela smacked her over the head.

“If mother had changed back, that would’ve been the main surprise,” Bela explained.

“That’s an awful idea,” you muttered sternly. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

“You think we can stop our mother when she is so set on this?” Cassandra scoffed. “We’d be a pile of dead flies if that were so. You're the only one who keeps her at bay.”

And Miranda, you thought bitterly.

“Darling- my head...” Alcina muttered into your ear. You quickly got her to stand. With her last remaining strength she fell into the bed and passed out on the pillows. You were glad it wasn’t on the floor.

Your heart was still pounding but your senses settled a bit now that you knew what had happened. You briefly thought about talking to Karl about a revenge plan on Miranda, but that would come later.

The girls fetched some blood and meat for their mother and you and Donna set about cleaning and binding the wounds along her body. Angie helped by passing you bandages and clean water.

“She’ll heal quickly, especially while asleep,” Donna said to you, attempting to soothe you. Your fingers were still shaking and your breathing was heavy in the silence.

“Have I done something wrong, Donna?” you muttered. “Did I not love her enough to make her feel like the way she is now is more than enough?”

“No, not at all. Alcina has always felt inadequate. Miranda treats her unfairly, just like the rest of us, but Alcina has a need to become the image that Mother had in mind for her, and she could never achieve it. Now, with her devotion to you, she has felt the need to become the image that she thinks you have in mind, which is an image like yourself. Human.”

“That’s bullshit,” you muttered. “Humans are boring anyways.”

Donna chuckled. She was finished with her work, and you were just about. “You’re a rare one, Y/N. You say that she could have any other human if she wanted to, but both you and Alcina are very lucky to have found each other.”

She squeezed your hand on the way out. “I will fetch some supplies and servants to help clean up. And reach out to Heisenberg to see if he can help with repairs.” The room really was in a state.

“Thank you, Donna,” you whispered. 

You stayed with Alcina, watching her sleep for the rest of the night. The experiment hadn’t seemed to work, because there were no significant differences in your lover from before. It relieved you. You got on the large bed and stayed kneeling next to her on the mattress with her hand in your lap.

You were simply glad that you had come home early today.

A/N: angst angst angst angst

mother miranda is the villain to every other character, including her children :)

[idy-ll-ique]

a manny and a pedi

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader

genre: fluff, mild angst

warnings: lil bit of violence

requested: by @maximeevansblog

Its almost mine birthday so, a one with Steve, it is the readers birtday and steve is taking the reader to the hair and nail salon, and that night he has a suprise party for the reader and he is nervous that she wont like his gift but she loves his gift

word count: ~1.3k

summary: it was supposed to be "y/n y/l/n, will you marry me?" it was supposed to be romantic. why, then, did it become "that's my fiancée, you fucking asshole!" "your... your what?"

author's note: hiya peeps! okay firstly, happy birthday @maximeevansblog ! hope you have a wonderful birthday! also, im sorry if i changed your prompt a tiny bit, i hope you still like it. enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Hey lover boy, what—"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Barnes!" Steve exclaimed, startled. Bucky laughed and clapped him on the back once. "What are you doing here, are you spying?" he teased his best friend, peeking past him to look into the room outside which he found Steve standing. Y/N was inside the room, talking to a guy while holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

"Y/N?! Your own girlfriend, Rogers?" Bucky admonished harshly in a whisper, pulling Steve away from the door. "It's not— I trust her completely, honest! It's the guy she's talking to, Manny. I swear to God he's trying to steal her from me—"

"Nobody is stealing me, Rogers, Manny's just a friend! No ulterior motives, he has already promised like a thousand times," Steve heard behind him and whirled around to see Y/N standing there with a smirk, an eyebrow raised. "You taking snooping lessons from Barnes now?" he muttered, "I know babe, I just—"

"Just nothing, Stevie, be happy! It's my birthday!" she laughed and gave him a tight hug, burrowing into his arms. To be honest, Y/N knew about Manny's intentions and Steve was right to worry; he flirted with her all the time, even when she insisted she was dating the ex-Captain America. But she knew better than to worry Steve.

He soothingly rubbed her back, swatting Bucky's hand away when he tried to run his fingers through her hair. "Stop it, that's my girlfriend," he pouted and both Bucky and Y/N burst out laughing. "She's like a sister; jeez, Rogers, tone it down a little bit," Bucky sighed and waved at the couple, walking away.

Steve and Y/N decided to go back to their room. They had been in a relationship for around 4 years now, and they weren't planning on stopping, ever. The only time Y/N would become Steve's ex-girlfriend was when she became his wife. Which he hoped she'd become soon, since he had a special birthday planned for her.

First, he was going to take her to a hair salon, then a manicure and pedicure, and finally, a picnic under the stars. There, he was finally going to pop the question: Y/N, will you marry me? After his retirement, that was all he wanted. A stable life; a wife, kids, maybe some pets. He was even ready to be a trophy husband, as Y/N was still in the Avengers Initiative.

"Steve? Steve!" He snapped out of his thoughts and gave Y/N a sheepish smile. "Sorry, pumpkin, lost in thoughts. So, uh, the flowers look nice," he stammered, looking everywhere but at the flowers which Y/N was putting in a vase. "Oh hush Rogers, you don't have to pretend to like them for me, I get it. I was just like that with you, you know?"

It was true, in the beginning of their relationship Y/N was what Steve was now. Jealous, overprotective, obsessed… somewhere along the line the roles were reversed. "I know, honey, I'm sorry… they're a birthday gift, I should be happy for you." He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck.

"It's fine. So, I've received everyone's gift but yours, where is it?" she grinned coyly, reaching up to cup his cheek. Steve smirked against her skin and spun her around, bringing them back chest to chest. "In my pants," he whispered seductively. A few seconds passed and both of them burst out laughing.

"I swear to God, Stevie, if that's your only gift I'm gonna be really disappointed." Steve pouted and leaned forward to give her a sweet kiss. "First of all, ouch," he began, "And second, no that's not the only gift. I have a really fun day planned for us, you up for it?" Y/N's eyes lit up and she nodded eagerly, jumping into his arms. "Aw, Steve, I love you so much!"

"I love you too, princess. Now for the first gift—"

"Ste— oh…"

---

"I. Look. Freaking. Amazing!"

Steve smiled softly as Y/N admired herself in the mirror. They had just returned from the mani-pedi session, and Y/N was feeling the most refreshed she had in years. She had also gotten a fantastic new hairstyle, complete with a different hair colour. Y/N was feeling like a new person, all thanks to Steve. She turned to him with a huge smile.

"Words cannot express how much I love you," she began, giving him a tight hug, "But numbers can. 1 million out of 10!" Steve laughed at her excitement, gently playing with her hair as he held her close. "But the best part awaits: the picnic! We still have a few hours to go, maybe I can go some for training?"

"Sure, and I'm going to take some pictures and post them to all my social media sites! Oh my God, this is fantastic—" Steve laughed at Y/N's squeals and left the room, feeling giddier and happier than he was in the morning. You see, Steve was kind of nervous the whole day. First, it was because of Manny, second, he was worried she wouldn't like his gifts and third, will she say yes?

Two out of the three concerns were gone. It was the pesky last one that ran through his mind the whole time he was in the gym. After an hour, Steve decided to go back to their room to relax for a while under the Air Conditioner; he didn't want to be a smelly, sweaty mess on the most important night of his life.

As he was walking towards their room, though, Steve happened to bump into Y/N. And… Manny. Manny took one step forward, Y/N took a step back. One step forward, one step back as Y/N held her hands out in front of her, protecting herself. Without even bothering to know the full story, Steve rushed over and punched Manny straight on the nose.

He fell back with a groan as Y/N gasped, covering her mouth. "That's my fiancée, you fucking asshole! Have some respect for other people's relationships, she said no, no means no!" he yelled, so loud that a few others came over to check on them. Bucky, Sam, Peter, Tony, Wanda, Vision, Bruce and Natasha, all stood a few feet away, watching with wide eyes.

Y/N's head snapped towards Steve when he called her his fiancée. "Your… your what?" she whispered, and Steve finally realized what he had blurted out. Shit. "I… I was going to ask you tonight at the picnic— it was supposed to be romantic, damn it Manny, you ruined—" His speech was cut short as Y/N immediately took him in her arms, kissing him deeply.

"Yes, Steve, I will marry you," she mumbled with a small, teary smile that Steve mimicked as he brought her in for another kiss. They only stopped when they heard the massive applause coming from the others. "Congratulations, you guys, this is brilliant news! Who's the best man?" Sam hollered.

Steve hugged Y/N closer, wiping his tears off with a chuckle. "Well, I was thinking—"

"I'll be honored," Sam grinned, scowling when Bucky smacked him across the head. "He was going to ask me," Bucky sneered and Steve rolled his eyes. "If you keep bickering like that, I'll ask Bruce," he snarked and Bruce laughed as both Bucky and Sam quieted instantly. "Where's the fucking ring, Rogers, there's no proposal without a ring!"

"The ring is in the bedroom, I was training and that's no place for a precious jewel," Steve answered and Y/N smiled into his arms, burrowing her face further into his chest.

"Yes, the hair salon was great. The mani and pedi— not that Manny, Steve— was also great. But this, by far, was the best birthday present I got today," she whispered to him. "What about the sex? Am I becoming an old man now—" Y/N pushed Steve with a disgusted look on her face as everyone else gagged and groaned. "Rogers, it was a sweet moment!"

"Sorry, sorry, couldn't help myself, it just came— there it is again!"

"Blergh, fuck you, man!"

"I deserved it."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you liked it!

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (part 6 of ?)

gif by my queen @michaelgreys, i'm basically her fanblog now but im not mad about it :) i mean just look at him!!1! i almost fainted

a/n: first of all, if you stuck around to this point, tysm for reading!!! this has been one of the most amazing fics ive ever been a part of and it's all thanks to the gorgeous @stxdyblr-2k, who generously took control of the next few parts. her brain is beautiful and we all owe her flowers or something. when i read what she sent me i couldn't bring myself to change much except for some small edits, so pls give her lots of love if you like it!!!! i'm still working on requests as well :)

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four five | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland, @lilymurphy03

prompt: nothing this good can last forever. john doesn't know how to feel, and neither do you.

warnings: nsfw! a teensy bit of smut, angsty as fuck prepare yourselves accordingly, a lil fluff if u squint, yeah this fucked me up

Obviously, it wasn't the last time.

Over the coming months you had many last times; his mouth pressed against your neck said as much. As his responsibility at work increased, you'd find yourself heading to his office after your lectures and night classes more often, perched on his lap, smoking, while he finished up his numbers under your critical gaze.

Thomas was more than aware; his snarky comments made it obvious he had his ways of monitoring your actions. You'd seen the dark car lurking outside your rallies and lectures, and no matter how you'd try to throw him off, not even telling Ada where you were going and even, in a moment of desperation, through your neighbours back window, somehow, his silent shadow was still looming. He was practically begging you to make a mistake, to give everyone an easy out. You just couldn't give him the satisfaction. You knew Tommy saw the world as a chess board, always several moves ahead of his opponent. Even when you played him in chess club all those years ago, you could outflank him if you thought on your feet and kept him thinking he was winning until you obliterated him in the end game. It was brutal, sure. But as he told you, there were bigger games at play. You had your own. Thomas could read your mail, intercept your phone calls and have you followed, but he couldn't hear what you said out of earshot. Your lot could smell an interceptor in your ranks, so spying at that close of a proximity was out of the question.

That's why he'd decided to let you have John. You knew his silent approval and his constant management of the narrative meant he saw a tactical gain. There was only so much information he could get from Ada, but John? He just had to agitate him in the right way and all your secrets would come tumbling out. It was difficult hiding your world from John; of what he knew of, he was supportive, quizzing you over current affairs and political discourse, listening intently. Yet, you had to watch your mouth. You had to keep a barrier up and you knew John sensed the distance. Fundamentally, there was nothing either of you could do.

So here you were, in a comfortable limbo. Your days were filled with work, evenings were for lectures and reading groups at the city's university, Ada and you often stopped for a drink or three; you'd go by your flat to freshen up, and then to John's office. Sometimes, you wouldn't visit for a week or so when the guilt sent you over the edge, it was draining to be living so many lives and knowing you were betraying the person you loved most on earth. Ada was oblivious, taking you on her nightly adventures filled with men, dancing and waiting while she was busy kissing in dark corners. Sometimes a young blinder would ask if you wanted to be walked home. The first occurrence you thought was sweet, but as the nights it occurred coincided with nights John seemed extra pent up, you'd decided to ask. The boy, who couldn't be older than twelve but who you knew was trained in using firearms and had a revolver pinned to his hip and a razor in his cap, looked confused.

"Mate, it's not a tough question. Why do you come and ask?"

"There's a phone call." He shrugs, "Isaiah or Michael tells us to go and get you."

Isaiah and Michael were somewhat aware? Fucking hell. Your fling was basically a military campaign at this point, so many of your friends were complicit. The little lads who ran as messengers around Birmingham were complicit. You had to just end it.

But when you sat on his thigh, his chin hooked over your shoulder, it felt so worth it. He never turned you away when you came crawling back. He never mentioned it until after you were finished, hooked under his arm.

"Fucking missed you, gorgeous."

Sometimes he'd remind you not to be a stranger with a wink, but you could tell it was tearing him apart too. He never once came to you. That's how he could justify it in his mind; obviously, the bare minimum was not having sex with his sister's best friend, but in failing that, waiting for you to initiate it was somewhat better. He barely talked to Ada now, citing work as an excuse, but truly the guilt sickened him. He couldn't believe he was prepared to continuously hurt his little sister and betray her. But every time you turned up at his door, he couldn't find it in himself to turn you away. In his mind, every single time you came to visit him was the last time he'd let it happen, yet he was always waiting for you to come back, his blind closed to signal he was prepared. He never would call, it had to be your choice.

You'd been off and on for over five months now. It was so difficult to hide in plain sight, but you just couldn't stop yourself. Neither of you purposefully meant for this to be happen but fuck, was it fun.

For your birthday he'd gifted you a fur coat from the same shop his sister, aunt and the fashionable crowd of Birmingham had purchased theirs. He joked that you looked like a "proper razor chaser", kissing you when you pouted at his teasing, begging you to wear only the coat when you fucked him next. It was a practice for blinders to buy a coat for their wives and girlfriends as a status symbol. You were neither, but John claimed that being his "favourite lass" also counted.

John was a laugh, but you knew at any time he could close his door to you. Until he decided he couldn't be bothered with you, you weren't going to get caught. You just had to be careful until he got bored.

***

You did end up putting a foot wrong. It was a Thursday night; you were sitting on the edge of John's desk while he was ridding you of your blouse. It was past midnight, Birmingham was asleep. You almost didn't bother coming out tonight, but you knew John had lost a deal and you wanted to be there for him. Your skirt and stockings were strewn across the desk with his shirt, vest and waistcoat, muddled into the files and papers which were once neatly stacked.

His fingers were pumping in and out of you, his mouth lapping at your breast, your head tipped back in euphoria, groaning. The stress made him more affectionate and tender with you, and it was nights like these that made you wonder. Wonder if this could ever be something more, something real.

John's body suddenly pulled away from yours, quickly turning the light off.

"John, what-" You were cut off by John’s hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

"Shut up and get behind the desk." He hissed. "Someone's coming upstairs."

You quickly grabbed your clothes from the shiny oak surface and crouched, hiding yourself from view, quickly making yourself decent. You weren't going to get shot through the head with your tits out. You listened to the stairs creek, and it sounded like a group. You two were easily outnumbered. They were talking, but the thick panels of wood muffled their voices.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, the cracks in the door giving the room a dulled glow, you could make out the figure of John. He was free of his shirt, toned body on display, standing with his back flat to the wall, revolver produced from a discreet notch in the door frame, gaze fixed on where they'd enter. He was tense, ready. The door was unlocked from the outside, the door handle twisting.

John's lip shifted in confusion yet still he kept his trigger finger ready, not a single shake from your general.

The light flicked on and a shriek rang out. It was blinding, and you stood up slightly dazed. Finn was in the doorway, John next to him clutching his chest, panting and lowering the gun.

"Jesus Christ, Finn, can't you knock like a normal person? Scared the shit out of us." John bellowed, shaking as the adrenaline coursed through his body, resting his hands on the edge of the desk as he regained his breath.

"You're the one who pointed a gun at me! I didn't even know you were in 'ere!" Finn yelped.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Ada and Isaiah, who had come running and stopped in their tracks upon seeing you standing behind John's desk in the middle of the night. They weren't stupid. John was topless, your clothes obviously rumpled, both with matching tousled hair and practically stinking of guilt. You'd been caught red handed. Ada's eyes flicked between both you and John, and you could practically see the pieces of the puzzle clicking together in her mind, all the moments she found questionable since you'd returned suddenly making sense, realising she had been deceived by the two people who she was meant to trust most in life. Finn looked absolutely crushed, he'd never been able to conceal his emotions as well as his older brothers and sister, linking his fingers through Ada's, squeezing her hand.

"I forgot to drop this off earlier." Finn stated, holding up a money box, "Ada had keys so we thought we'd sneak in so I wouldn't get done by Tommy. We did call round yours, Y/N. We thought you were in bed."

"I'm sorry." You said. It was not enough but you just didn't know what else to say. You couldn't make it right, you'd really fucked up this time. Tears pricked at your eyes, as Ada examined you in silence.

John stepped in front of you defensively. "Look, Ada-"

"How long has this been going on?" She asked, her voice shaking with rage. You and John exchanged a glance. "I said, how fucking long?"

"Five months, six in a fortnight." He answered.

Isaiah whistled lowly. "That's fucked. I thought it was only a few times, that it'd finished."

"Never really over when it's John is it." Finn interjects, you glance to him, were you just one in a long string? You shouldn't be surprised but it was easy to pretend he may actually care about you.

"You've been fucking around for six months behind my back?" Ada yelped, Finn trying to comfort her but she pulled away from him. "And you fucking knew Iz."

"I'd expect this from you, yeah? Wouldn't put anything past you these days.." she sneered at John, "But you? You?! You're meant to be my best mate, but here you are sneaking about fucking my brother?"

"Ada-" you began, eyes welling with tears.

"I thought I could trust you. You're just another fucking razor chaser, aren't you?" She spits. "That's why you came back."

"No it wasn't, Ada-"

Her eyes flashed with anger, but this time John was on the receiving end. "You bought her that fucking coat ,didn't you? The fur one. You did! Fuck's sake!" Her fists were clenched, shoulders squared. For the first time in your life, you understood why crowds parted for Ada Shelby. Understood all the free drinks and cab rides, the nervous serving staff declaring your meal on the house (always acknowledged by Ada with a hefty tip), understood why the men of Birmingham didn't last long with her.

"Did it feel good to swan about town in that fucking coat, while acting as though you cared about me? It's so fucking embarrassing. All trussed up because my knobhead big brother makes you feel special? Thanks for rubbing it in my face."

"Ada, I love you. I never meant to hurt you, I got caught up and that's on me. It's my fault."

"You're not acting like you love me. This isn’t what love is, Y/N." She retorted.

You couldn’t do anything but nod. She was right.

John opened his mouth to speak, Ada silencing him, a scowl darkening her features.

"I don't care what you have to say. Any of you. Who else knows?"

"Thomas, Michael, Arthur-" John listed off slowly, each name prompting Ada to break down a little bit more in front of you.

"I didn't know Arthur knew." You said pointedly, John sending you an exasperated glance. He was planning on dealing with that later, but right now was about his sister. Fuck him if he thought you were going to stick around much longer. You didn't want to hear him justify everyone else knowing about your fling with your best friend being left completely in the dark.

"That all you have to say for yourself?" Ada snaps at you.

"I have fucking no defense, do I Ada? I should've walked away." You pushed your hair back, frustrated at yourself, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You begged yourself not to cry. Tears wouldn't help anything.

"Why didn't you?"

You didn't know. Your silence only riled her up.

"Why didn't you fucking walk away?" Ada yelled, slamming her hands on the desk.

You felt hot tears run down your face, quickly moving your hands to dab at your tears.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. After all you've done, you don't get to cry in front of me." Ada growled at you, John going to shush her, obviously wanting to comfort you. "You can all fuck off. You've all lied to me and gone behind my back. Fuck’s sake, you could've just told me. You could've just told me."

"We didn't want to hurt you." John said, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder but she flinches away.

"This hurts so much more. You get that you all lying to me is so much worse, don't you?"

"We weren't thinking."

"You really fucking weren't." Ada laughs bitterly, shaking her head, blinking away tears. "Fuck you lot."

She stormed out, tailed by Finn, begging her to slow down and talk to him, protesting his innocence in the situation. Isaiah hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and John.

"I had no idea you two've been at it for so long."

"Iz, fuck off yeah? I've had enough today." John shot back, sliding across the desk towards you. "You alright, lass?"

"We're done here, John."

He slid off the table, his hand cupping your face, "Hey, gorgeous, I get it but don't go breaking my heart tonight. Can we just leave this for tomorrow? Sleep on it."

The idea of getting any sleep at all tonight was laughable, you'd be up all night replaying these moments and torturing yourself. Tonight couldn't get any worse so you had to finally end it. Now was the right time.

"John, it should've never happened."

"But it did."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's over."

"Y/N. You know for me it was never just about-"

"You're making it difficult. Stop making it difficult. Whatever you say isn't going to change that right now we have to do the right thing."

"I know you're right, but I don't want to let go. Is it so wrong to want you? I adore you, you know that."

You wouldn't meet his eyes. Sighing, John pressed his forehead to the side of your head, chin brushing your shoulder, eyes closing. He was begging you to stay with him. There had to be a solution, you'd figure it out together. His voice was cracking, eyes glassy. He looked so much younger when he was pleading. The tall bloke who terrorised the Midlands with his razor rimmed cap, a revolver in his hand, and a ruthless trigger finger had vanished. You wanted to stay, burning to curl up with him and for him to kiss it better.

"I should go." You told him. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, letting out a shaky sigh before pulling away, nodding.

"I'd drive you home but obviously-"

"Obviously."

John suddenly turned from you, eyes narrowing at Isaiah who was still hovering at the door. "Thought I told you to fuck off. Make yourself useful and get Y/N home safely." His tone was ice cold once again.

Isaiah nodded, offering his arm to you. You reached the door and instinctively looked back at John. His eyes met yours, staring at you from his desk, just as you knew he would. He prepared himself to watch you leave every night, but this time was different. That was it with you two.

Isaiah strode down the street with you in silence. You were tucked into his side as was customary with the upcoming blinders who were particularly ambitious, but there was no relaxed chat.

"Isaiah. What’re you thinking?" You asked, voice tinged with nervousness.

He sighed, running his free hand across his jaw, "That was intense in there."

"Just how he is." You shrugged.

"Does he love you or sommet?"

"Fuck knows… does it matter?"

"Of course it does. Do you love him?"

"Drop it. None of that matters, it shouldn't have happened in the first place so it can’t," You snapped, the anger at the situation you'd created suddenly overwhelming.

Isaiah whistled, raising his brow at your obvious turmoil. "You're in fucking deeper than you want to admit."

He walked you up your path, watching you turn the key to the side door leading to your bedsit. You paused, turning to him.

"Iz… I don't know what to do next."

It was so dark, you could see his face only by the lit cigarette burning to embers between his fingers. He inhaled deeply, pausing before delivering his carefully laid out plan of avoidance. Obviously the event of him crossing the Shelbys and losing their good graces weighed heavily on his mind. You nodded, listening intently, noting his ideas of relocation but he explained they were a final resort. The best thing to do was try to regain their trust; in the long run, he had calculated, it was the only option that didn't result in your life being haunted by the Shelbys. Even if they left you alone, their enemies would make a point to go after you, seeing you as an easy target. The other option was to leave the country.

"Good luck, Y/N. I mean it." He muttered as you turned the handle to the temporary safety of your home. You nodded, offering you cheek for the polite good night kiss you'd become accustomed to. He rolled his eyes and obliged, pressing an affectionate kiss to your cheek and ruffling your hair. "I'm serious. Watch your back."

***

John broke down when he finally heard the lock click shut. His eyes had been prickling with boiling tears, his jaw tensed to hold them back. He yelled out in anger, flipping his desk with force, a loud crash as the wood splintered against the stone flooring, glass shattering from the photo frames. His hands went to his head, unable to stop the gasping breaths escaping from his trembling lips, his face reddening.

"Fuck’s sake." He growled. He'd fucked everything up. He had nothing, just as he'd told you the first night you returned. The consequence was no surprise, he'd anticipated the fall out for a while, but he couldn't resist you. He was completely guilty and had no defense; his only justification being that you made him think with his cock, not his brain.

Fuck’s sake. Polly was going to murder him. She'd always had a soft spot for Ada, as the only girl in the family, and was no stranger to lecturing him over his flirtatious behaviour around Ada's friends. She'd murder him. He had a half mind to never go home. He rubbed at his eyes with his knuckles. Polly had no use for tears. That's what she'd tell him when he was a boy coming home with a skinned knee. This was far worse.

He was also sure that he was a worse brother than Tommy, perhaps the worst in the world. His baby sister, who he'd helped to toddle, carry proudly on his shoulders after school and race with her on his back through the fields on the outskirts of Small Heath, had walked in on him obviously in the midst of fucking her best mate. If he had swallowed his pride and actually talked to her, he wouldn't be in this mess. He could've told her that things changed, that for the same reasons Ada loved Y/N he had fallen for her, that he was truly sorry but she had to know before it got too far and someone got hurt. He couldn't go back.

He should've never approached you that night.

He should never approach you again.

He looked over the mess of his office, the splintered wood and shards of glass, a confetti of paperwork. Now nothing mattered. None of this mattered. He'd lost everything and he had only himself to blame.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 14 - Sinking Deeper [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤ 

Ps: Special thanks to Bea for helping me!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4180

Summary: Not every night is for sleeping.

All things considered, you were sure that you were supposed to be more stressed out than you were right now. The FBI still had nothing on the copycat killer that had sent you flowers, or any of the others that were running wild all over the country. BAU was working nonstop because there was more and more pressure coming from the supervisors and higher ups, and Spencer had told you something about the profile evolving but hadn’t gotten into details.

Not that you would ever ask him to, what you heard was more than enough.

Despite all that, whenever you were with him, you managed to feel almost…peaceful. It was so unfamiliar to you that it had taken you a moment to acknowledge what it was.

Happiness. Pure happiness, enough to get rid of the mind-numbing panic and worries about the future.

Or, as your sister had so eloquently put it, you were so, so screwed.

You took a sip of your mimosa, texting Spencer under the table, barely aware of the conversation taking place but you had to look up when you heard your name being called.

“Would you want to, Y/N?” your mother asked and you frowned.

“Hm?” you asked, your eyes stopping on Lily playing with her dolls by the corner of the huge living room before you looked at Mina and Kenzie, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“There’s this opera—“

“Nope,” you shook your head fervently, “No way. It’s Mina’s turn.”

Mina let out a whine, “I hate you so much right now.”

“She has a point,” your mother pointed at Mina, “Your sister was the one who came to the charity ball, you can come to this one.”

Mina heaved a sigh while Kenzie reached out to hold her hand.

“Babe come on, it could be fun.”

“Exactly!” your mother said, “Thank you, Kenzie. Besides, Nolan is coming as well, so we will be two couples there. Y/N, of course if you want you can bring Spencer—“

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’d rather spend an hour in my serial killer father’s cell with Spencer.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and Mina tilted her head.

“Nolan Yates is coming too?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m spending a whole night with the boss of my boss?”

“You two should get to know each other!” Your mother said, “Besides, there’s no harm in telling your bosses that you should become a partner already—“

“Mom,” Mina cut her off, “We talked about this. I will earn that position by myself, not because of anyone’s influence. Including yours.”

Your mother sipped her drink, “It’s as if you like struggling, Mina.”

Kenzie looked between them and smiled brightly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m actually pretty curious about him,” she said, “Since you’re a couple now, I just need to see what kind of a person he is.”

“There’s nothing to see, babe.” Mina murmured, “The guy looks like he spends millions alone on his beard care and wears bowties to bed.”

“Yeah but bowties are cool,” you grinned and a silence fell upon the table.

“I will get back to you sleeping with my boss’ boss in a minute mom but—“ Mina cleared her throat and turned to you, “I’m sorry, was that a Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I started watching it because Spencer likes it so much. It’s actually pretty fun, he said we could go to Sonic-Con next year if I want.”

“Comic-Con.” Kenzie corrected you helpfully and Mina blinked a couple of times.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenzie said, “I told you to watch it with me and you said, and I quote It has like one billion episodes Kenz, I don’t have time for that.”

Mina stole a look at Lily to make sure she couldn’t hear you before she turned to Kenzie, “Yeah, the difference is that you weren’t dicking her down.”

“Nobody is dicking me down!” you whispered, and your mother gasped, putting her mimosa glass down.

“Girls, not at the breakfast table!” she insisted, “Not that this kind of language is acceptable anywhere…”

“Yeah Mina, leave her alone,” Kenzie said, “I think it’s sweet.”

“What’s next? You will want to get a doctorate as well because he likes them so much?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” your mother mused out loud, “Y/N, I know the lovely dean of—“

“No!” you pointed at them, “No to both of you. And thank you Kenzie.”

Before your mother could say anything, Lily ran to you to climb into your lap.

“Hi there bug.”

“Can we play after brunch?” she looked up at you, making you smile at her before you pinched her chubby cheek, making her giggle.

“Of course,” you said, “Dibs on green unicorn.”

“I like pink better,” she nicked a piece of cheese from your plate, “Are you talking about your prince?”

Mina smiled into her glass, “Something like that sweetheart.”

“Lily, why don’t you ask auntie what you asked me the other day?” Kenzie told her and Lily nodded fervently.

“Can I wear pink on your wedding?”

“Whoa-“ you cleared your throat, “Lily, baby, there’s no wedding.”

Kenzie and your mother grinned at each other and turned to you and Lily but she looked as if she was confused.

“But if he’s your prince…” she trailed off and Kenzie cleared her throat.

“I would like to come up with a tamer version of that question,” she said, “When do we get to meet him?”

“Mom and Mina already have,” you said but your mother shook her head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Because you treated him like you were going to hire him?”

“Oh you did the same to him as well?” Kenzie asked your mother, “I thought Mina would have a heart attack when you did that to me.”

“I honestly thought you would break up with me after that.”

You fixed the huge bow on top of Lily’s hair while she sat still in your lap, listening to the conversation.

“How about dinner?” your mother said, “It’d help us to get to know him better.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It’s too early.”

“Oh come on Y/N!”

“I will introduce him to you guys when I’m sure you can behave.”

“He has spent hours with dad, you do realize that?” Mina asked with a small laugh, “You think he behaves? The guy is a—“

“Mina.” Kenzie nodded at Lily and Mina stopped herself immediately but Lily had already heard it.

“I thought your dad was a bad man, mommy.”

“He is, baby,” she nodded, “That’s why he’s far away, remember?”

“Then why is auntie Y/N’s prince talking to him?”

“Because he catches bad people, bug.”

Lily gasped and looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement, “Like a superhero?!”

“Mm hm, like a superhero,” you grinned at her and she fidgeted in your lap.

“When will I meet him?”

“Yeah Y/N, when will we meet him?” Kenzie batted her lashes and you pointed at her.

“That’s evil, you know that right?” you asked, ignoring Mina’s laughter, “Low blow.”

                                                 ***

Towards the evening, right before it was time to meet Spencer he had texted you, saying that they would be doing overtime at work. You were bummed, but you still texted back to tell him it was alright, that you would be going home and he could drop by whenever he was done.

After having dinner, you went to the couch with a bottle of wine and turned your laptop on to take a look at the files your assistant had sent you. Campbell wedding was almost done, Vincent had sent you a couple of new ideas to add into the theme, and you had to email back two pastry shops to confirm the wedding cake orders.

You were so lost in work that you had barely realized downing the half of the bottle and it was only when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table that you looked away from the screen of the laptop.

“Hi Lincoln,” you answered the phone, still typing your replies to your assistant and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you watching it?”

“Watching what?”

“TV. They’re talking about the copycat killers.”

“What?” you grabbed the remote to turn on the TV and of course, the first TV channel you found was already covering the story.

“The FBI has confirmed that the body that was found dead earlier today belonged to one of the copycat killers that has been—“

“What the fuck?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the screen and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s creepy but I mean…I don’t know, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Someone killed one of the copycat killers?” you asked, “That makes no sense at all.”

“Do you think it’s the same one?” he asked, “From the charity ball?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I didn’t know if I should call, but…”

“No no, I’m glad you did.” You muted the TV, then filled your glass again, “What’re you doing?”

“Just leaving work,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Linc, it’s eleven p.m.”

“I had to attend a meeting overseas.”

“Workaholic.”

“I prefer the term hard working,” he chuckled, “How about you? You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“Nah, I was waiting for my boyfriend,” you said, making him pause for a moment, “And checking client files. And drinking.”

“You’re lucky you can deal with your job while drinking, these sharks would pounce on me if they ever saw me like that.”

You took a look at the TV and typed in the copycat killer’s name into the search bar, sipping your wine.

“You’re being safe, right?” he asked you, “I haven’t heard from you for like a week or so, you’re alright?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide whether to tell him about the flowers or not, but in the end you decided not to.

“Family drama,” you said, “I’ve been running everywhere, and what with work and everything…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all.”

“I’m alright—“ you started but then looked over your shoulder when you heard the doorbell ring, “Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, see you,” he said and hung up, so you jumped over the couch to rush to the door before you opened it to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Long day?”

He nodded silently and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to inhale your scent.

“Hi,” he muttered into your hair, “Yeah. Long day.”

“I have wine?” you said as you pulled back, and closed the door after he stepped in, “I also have a bathtub even you could lose yourself in.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and hesitated for a moment, “On second thought, do you have coffee?”

“Are you sure you want to drink coffee at eleven at night?”

“I still have some reports to go over,” he said, stepping into the living room while you put the coffee on and his eyes stopped on the huge screen that was still giving details about the copycat killer.

“You saw that huh?”

“Mm hm,” you watched him as he dropped his satchel and you went to sit down next to him on the couch. “I was checking the other news. That’s why you had to work overtime?”

He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his fluffy hair as if it would help, “We thought the profile was changing but this whole thing just proves someone is trying to keep it stable.”

You pulled your brows together, “What?”

“The victimology didn’t match with the last two victims, and now one of the copycats ended up dead, probably the one who went rogue.”

“How did it not match?” you blinked a couple of times, “They all left a flower in the crime scene, no?”

“Well yeah, but the rest—“ he stopped for a moment, staring at you, “You never actually checked his victimology?”

“I never watched any of those interviews he gave after he was imprisoned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, and those interviews are the reason why we still don’t have a specific suspect because everyone knows everything about him, and most of your family life,” he heaved a sigh, “But you know what his victims had in common?”

“They all bled out while he watched,” you crossed your arms, leaning back to the arm of the couch, “I know that. He liked watching that.”

“Your father never killed anyone outside his social circle,” he reminded you, “They were all wealthy and overly successful people, remember? That’s why it took FBI so long to find him, because the previous profile was wrong. They thought it was someone who didn’t have access to the same resources, the same wealth and status, and it was for revenge.”

“Yeah but Spencer, he killed those people because he is evil.”

“He killed those people because in his mind, he was creating this…perfect business environment. Most of the people who got murdered were either failing business people or people who failed to meet his expectations. He was very successful, he expected the same from everyone. That’s his victimology. The flowers on the crime scene, they were just his signature. Well, his signature and his small offering to you.”

You thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee before walking back to the couch.

“I still think this is a bad idea professor,” you muttered as you gave him the cup and he smiled at you, then took a sip while you lit up a cigarette.

“So then,” you crossed your legs, “His victims were the cream of society and that means something? Other than the fact that he was a psychopath?”

“That means a lot of things,” he said, “So far, most of the victims had a higher status in society, it means that the copycats actually wanted to continue his legacy from where he left off. Maybe not the people who disappointed them per se, but until these last two victims, they all had higher financial status, either family money or with their own successful companies but last month, someone first killed a bartender and then a social worker. The only thing that told us it was remotely connected was the flower in the crime scene.”

“That’s why the profile was changing,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay. Is that normal?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head, “It’s very unfamiliar. It did prove our multiple copycat killers theory but other than that, it was going to make things incredibly harder until…” he nodded at the TV and you pulled your brows together.

“Hold on,” you sat up straighter, your mind working nonstop, “Multiple copycats who are trying to continue that monster’s legacy, and one happens to taint that legacy by going rogue…”

“And he gets killed,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

“It was one of the copycats who killed him?”

“That’s my theory.”

“So they’re not actually working together then?” you asked, exhaling the smoke, “Or- or- wait, you said there could be one copycat that was controlling the others, maybe they did it?”

Spencer took a sip of his coffee, “It could also mean that the leader wouldn’t want to take chances like this again,” he said, “Someone tainted the legacy, he might begin to believe he cannot trust anyone with that again.”

You let out a breath, stubbing the cigarette, “What does that mean then? For…all of this?”

“It means that someone cares so much about your father’s legacy that they’re ready to kill anyone and everyone over it, even their partners,” he said, “It also means that their whole operation is starting to crack. It’s only a matter of time someone makes a mistake and ends up getting caught.”

You massaged your temples, “Well, at least one of us can see the light at the end of this psycho murder tunnel.”

“You can’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It feels like it won’t stop,” you croaked out, “It’s like… It’s like I can’t wake up without dread filling me. It’s always there, at some corner of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel like—“ you stopped yourself and Spencer frowned, putting his coffee down.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear that, trust me.”

“Try me.”

“The more I feel like it will go on until the day I die.”

“It’s impossible for this case to take that long, Y/N—“

“I didn’t say it’d take long,” you took a sip of your wine and heaved a sigh before you looked up at him, the expression on his face almost hurting your heart physically, “Told you that you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t say that.”

You forced a small laugh and got up from the couch, suddenly restless.

“You said it yourself,” you said, pacing in the living room, “His victimology. He went after the people who disappointed him, right? Can you guess who’s disappointing him right now by not turning into the monster that he is?”

“That’s not what I—“ he shook his head fervently and stood up from the couch as well, “No. No way. It’s his victimology, but none of the psychiatric evaluations or anything on his file, including the list of his victims suggest that he would go after his family. There was a reason why he never tried to hurt you or Mina or your mother even back then—“

“No I’m sure they’re safe,” you said, “But Mina didn’t get flowers, professor. I have.”

“If our theory of him being in contact with the copycat is right, it means that your father is involved as well—hey,” he stopped you from pacing, reaching out to hold your hands in his, “Listen to me. Whoever it is, they will never, ever touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips, “Spencer, that’s not your responsibility.”

“It is.”

“FBI can’t—“

“I’m not talking about the FBI, I’m talking about me.”

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest as you swayed slightly.

“Is it okay if we stay like this for a moment?” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another “I don’t— I can’t sit still, I don’t know why.”

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” he ran his fingertips over your spine up and down, as if trying to soothe you and you nodded.

“Yes please.”

“You feel threatened, so your brain is trying to understand where the danger is coming from. It’s telling you to either stand or run away, so it’s pumping adrenaline into your system. We call that nervous energy.”

“That could be my stripper name,” you mumbled, making a chuckle vibrate deeply in his chest, “Tell me more.”

“The nervous energy happens when you’re under stress,” he said, “Our primitive brain is used to physical threats and it created this system in order to protect us. The threat you’re afraid of is not here, not physical, but your brain is still sending that energy to your limbs so that you can attack that physical threat, or run away to somewhere safe. It’s all a part of your defense mechanism.”

You hmmed into his chest, still holding him tight as if someone would take him away from you before you sniffled and pulled back to look up at him.

“You know, I think I got something you can’t explain with science.”

He raised his brows, “Debatable.”

“Do you want to bet? If I win, you’ll tell me what you planned for the next date.”

“What if I win?”

You wiped at your nose, “Tell me your price, professor.”

“There’s this conference on smoking and its effects on health next week, if I win you will attend that with me.”

“That’s a very indirect way to say that you hate my smoking.”

“I mean, it’s better if you see the effects in that conference, I think it’ll be good for you. It has five sessions, so it’s around….7 hours, including breaks.”

You blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “7 hours? That’s— okay. Yeah, I’m sure— I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  

A smile pulled at his lips, “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” you nibbled on your lip, trying to find the right words, “I was thinking and I realized something. I— I think it’s instinctual somehow, you can’t really explain it with science but when you’re here…” you paused, “With me, I mean, this whole panic dissolves. I feel safe, and it’s so unfamiliar that I don’t—“ you let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how to deal with that. I normally don’t feel safe, ever.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head, his warm gaze focused on you. You scrunched up your nose.

“Don’t tell me science can explain that.”

“Oxytocin.”

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, making him laugh, “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, oxytocin. It’s a hormone that ensures that you trust people along with everything else. Basically, your brain— when you’re attracted to someone, your brain releases dopamine, so your serotonin levels rise and it produces oxytocin. It’s a big part of romantic attachment, it’s released during sex as well.”

You arched a brow, a small smirk flashing over your face and he pressed his lips together, a look of mischief appearing on his face.

“It strengthens fidelity as well,” he explained, “Seeing your partner as more attractive than others, and preferring to interact more with your partner than strangers.”

You clicked your tongue, “7 hours of conference, here we come.”

“It’ll be fun, I heard they’re bringing a real lung.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered and entwined your fingers with his, “Well for what it’s worth professor, I have a lot of oxytocin for you.”

He cleared his throat, “Scientifically, one of the most important aspects of it is reproduction, in females it triggers labor and in males it moves sperm so having a lot of oxytocin can be—“

“Spencer, I’m trying to talk dirty in a scientific way!” you groaned, a fire spreading over your face because of embarrassment and you took a step to walk away from him but he grabbed your hand to turn you around and tug you closer to him, making you let out a whine.

“I feel like an idiot,” you murmured and he shook his head fervently,

“No, of course not,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Hey. I don’t know anything about weddings. So we complete each other if you ask me.”

You scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, your brows furrowed together, “You really think that?”

He nodded and you heaved a sigh.

“Okay.”

“And…for your information,” he swallowed thickly, “I have a lot of oxytocin for you too.”

A giggle you couldn’t stop escaped from you as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, making your stomach do a pleasant flip. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lungs full of his scent, making you dizzy.

“They’ll take away your doctorates for that joke, professor,” you breathed out as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours while you raked your nails over the back of his neck gently.

“Worth it,” he murmured to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again, this time pressing you closer to his body and your heart started beating in your throat, a whine climbing up to your throat, desire filling your system faster than any other drug.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you whispered, and his eyes shot up to yours, both of you aware what you were really asking. He looked almost hypnotized by the sight of you in his arms and he blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus before he nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your whole being consumed by this moment. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat echoing through the room,

“No scientific explanation this time, professor?” you whispered against his lips and his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver from there to your whole body.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “Not this time. Not for the lady who imparadises my mind.”

The lady who imparadises my mind.

That was how Dante described Beatrice in Paradise.

You stood on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss, then tugged at his hand to lead him into your bedroom.

Chapter 15

[scarecrowmilkfog]

♡My Prison Pen Pal♡

Helmut Zemo x reader

Word count: 1,802

Warnings: swearing, mentions of prison and crimes and slight angst to do with his family

A/N: its finally here! I havent writen a fic in a long time so hopefully you guys like this! I tried to avoid using idioms and things like that but message me if you need anything explained or reworded as I know most people aren't native English speakers

@sorcerersofnyc

♡♡♡

His first letter came during the series finale of your favourite show. A rather inconvenient moment, you thought, so it stayed on the welcome mat until you passed through the hall on your way to bed. Picking it up, you figured you'd skim the first few lines then finish it and write a reply before work. Instead, you found yourself writing and rewriting a reply through the night. Somehow this man had managed to enthrall you with only a letter. Maybe it was the way he wrote as if he was some elegant poet whose sonnets would one day be hailed as classics. How he managed to be open and expressive, exuding a welcoming aura, and yet still seeming mysterious. Or perhaps it was simply fated by the stars that Helmut Zemo would capture your heart.

You waited anxiously for his second letter to arrive. After sending the first, you hadn't cared whether you got a response, the whole thing seemed like a bad idea to you. But your mother was insistent that you needed to meet new people and this way you wouldn't need to worry about awkward face to face conversations. Sending the first letter felt like any other chore you do in the day, done with much effort and resignment but forgotten within minutes. But the second? It felt like the most important thing you'd done in a long time. You'd even bought a first class stamp (not that it makes a difference).

You wanted to know more about this intriguing man. No, supervillain. Charged with international terrorism. Jesus christ what the fuck was wrong with you? Were you really falling in love with a supervillain after one letter? But he didn't seem evil to you. He wrote eloquently, somehow his simple and brief description of his day (he'd started reading a new psychology book, you'd have to send him some recommendations) sounded fascinating in his words.

Over time, you started to notice small things about Helmut. The way he crossed his t's, how he signed his name, but mainly that there was a romanticism to his writing. From the way he described his home, his wife, his son to his recipes for Sokovian dishes with small notes and doodles (your favourite was his shepherd's pie recipe where he helpfully noted his mother's assertion that you should always add more than you think you need). It was becoming clear to you that he wasn't the stoic and vengeful baron you expected but rather a soft, lonely and endearingly weird man who you couldn't imagine plotting to destroy the Avengers. Whilst it was his mystery that first captivated you, it was his sweet and sometimes awkward personality that convinced you to keep writing.

It took a while for Helmut to tell you about his family. You had heard on the news back when he first arrested about his motive, so you were interested to hear his perspective on his crimes. But that wasn't what you got. Instead, he told you about when he and his father used to play football when he was young and how they would play a match every time he visited, with Helmut playing against his father and son, who always wanted to play with grandfather. He told you of the songs his wife used to sing, how her voice was always loud and shaky and after years of singing somewhere over the rainbow she would still forget the lyrics and invent her own. He told you how his son was the best pianist he had ever heard. How he could play the greatest rendition of amazing grace and that he had just learnt the theme from swan lake. That he had been excited to practice it on his grandfathers grand piano the day Ultron attacked.

There was something so human about this man. His love for his family, his loss and grief, his plan to avenge his family, it was all so tragic and yet here he was sending you drawings of the flowers from his garden growing up. You wanted to hug him and yet sometimes you felt he wouldn't need it, wouldn't want it. You were wrong.

Helmut Zemo missed his family. He told you so in one of his most recent letters. He missed holding his son, brushing his wife's hair, going for long drives, waking up at 2am to comfort his son, early morning trips to the shops, cleaning up after dinner, helping with homework. Everything he listed seemed so trivial, so meaningless in the grand scheme of life and yet the memories meant so much to him.

You realised then you had never pitied him before. Not that he wasn't deserving of it, just that he didn't seem to need it. But overtime you realised that what Helmut had really needed wasn't revenge or to make a world free from superhumans, it was someone to talk to. Someone to trust. Someone who would understand his pain and not judge it. Perhaps, you thought to yourself, you could be that person.

Fuck.

You couldn't think of how to cope with this. No one you knew had ever mentioned falling in love with a criminal through letters. And as hard as you tried you hadn't been able to find a single romcom with this plot line. You couldn't tell him. You imagined with his seemingly fragile state of mind receiving from basically a stranger professing their love would at best cause him to ghost you. Especially after he confided in you, shared his thoughts and memories.

So instead you continued as normal. You sent him pressed flowers and pictures of your favourite places. Eventually, he asked what looked like, and you spent an hour trying to decide whether you should send a picture of yourself or to just vaguely describe your features. After deciding to send a picture of yourself on holiday a few months before the blip, you found yourself wondering what he'd do with it. Would he throw it away as soon as he got the letter or would he keep it, tuck it away in some book to look at whilst thinking of you?

You also found yourself wondering what he looked like in the real world. You had found pictures of him online, but they didn't feel real. He was never rarely happy. The pictures pre Ultron were clearly taken by paparazzi, so you weren't surprised he rarely looked anything other than annoyed. There were a few though, ones with his wife and son, where he clearly hadn't noticed, and some from when he was much younger and seemed to enjoy the attention. Then were those taken after his arrest.

And so you continued to wonder he looked like. How he looked in the morning, with flowers in his hair or in summer with the sun lighting his face. You wondered what his hair looked like wet, if he ever scrunched his nose in disgust. You wondered what his smile was like.

Over time, you told him more about yourself. The stress of returning home after the blip to no job, no house and your friends 5 years older. Your ex was married with kids and your sister had moved abroad. It was as if you blinked and your whole life had changed. You mentioned how it was your mum who had suggested getting a pen pal, so you could talk to someone new, who was living a different life to you, although she had meant someone in a different country not jail. Since coming back you'd been isolated and stressed with starting a new job, recovering lost information and personal belongings and moving house, so you had thought it might be good to speak to someone who didn't know you, who couldn't judge you. You told Helmut how it had been good, how writing to him had helped you, how he had helped you more than he could ever know.

No, that sounded creepy. How you appreciated his letters.

Too formal. How you hadn't expected to become his friend, but you were glad to be able to say you were.

Helmut was comforting. You knew in your head that your meeting on Friday was nothing to worry about but seeing him say it felt so reassuring. Each one of his letters made you feel relaxed, feel safe. You wanted to make him feel the same. So, as a way to repay his kindness you had told him that no matter what happened, he could always trust you. And it was true. You couldn't imagine a world where you wouldn't do anything for Helmut and although you knew he would never need it, you still wanted him to know you would always care about him, even if no one else did.

Writing to him had become as easy as talking to someone you'd known all your life. You had fallen into an easy routine, you knew when to expect his letters and you knew when you'd send a reply. The routine felt so natural that you even knew what the envelope would look like, always the same off-white with a square edged flap. The address was always the same too. Except on his last letter. Which was strange.

At first, you thought Helmut had been moved to a different prison but after frantically typing the address into Google Maps you realised it was not a prison. Fuck you had no idea what it was, but it wasn't a prison. It also wasn't in Germany.

You sat still, staring at the unopened letter for a few minutes.

You looked up at the door. You thought you heard someone knock. The post had already come and you weren't expecting people. Hell, there wasn't anyone other than your parents who would visit anyway and they would have called first. Now you were sat still, staring at the front door.

"I know you're in there, the lights are on."

It was as if you were a marionette, being moved by some strange force that was slowly pulling you out of your seat and towards the door. You didn't even register that you moved until you felt the door handle on your fingertips. The cold metal caused you to stop, as if broken out of a trance. There was a sudden realisation that if you opened the door your life would never be the same. It was sickening, a mixture of dread and excitement; it reminded you of the moment before a roller coaster drops. You repeated that thought in your head. "Your life would never be the same". Your life hadn't been the same in almost a year. What would be the harm in one more big change. So you did it. You opened the door.

His smile was beautiful.

[kyoshisimp]

Inspired by the Baby Mama AU by @aravas-writing.

Ah spring. The season that promises new beginnings and pleasant weather where the sun graces the world with a more pleasant heat compared to the summertime, being kept in check by the clouds which provides the occasional shade.

The perfect time for a picnic, something that our couple are taking full advantage of.

"Wow Jaune! This is incredible," said Tifa Lockhart. She was carrying a large blanket in her arms along with a large smile. "I didn't realize you guys live near place like this. How'd you manage to find it?"

Jaune rubs the back of his head and chuckles nervously, gripping a picnic basket in his other hand. "Well... let's just say my sisters got overexcited and I needed some space."

"I see," Tifa smirks, making Jaune's shoulders tense. "This wouldn't have been during one of those cute makeovers-"

"ANYWAYS!" Jaune stares ahead, his face red. "While I was escaping - I mean, having a leisurely hike, I ended up finding this place."

The place being a flower field hidden away within the woods. The flowers shed their icy coats and bloom proudly, coloring the once blank and drab canvas of the field, enough to make a rainbow envious.

Jaune and Tifa stop on a hill with a tree and dry patch of grass.

"Here should be good!" Jaune beams. They set the blanket on the ground and begin taking out the contents of the basket, which was an assortment of different foods and refreshments.

They settle down and begin chowing down.

"I hope you like it," Jaune says after biting into his tuna melt. "I had to keep it simple so it might not be up to par."

Tifa bites into a bagel with cream and smoked salmon and practically groans in delight. She then leveled a fierce glare at Jaune, making him freeze mid bite. "Jaune, honey. I like you. But if you ever say something so blasphemous again, I'm gonna have to help your sisters in another makeover session."

Jaune gulps. "N-noted. So is it really ok?"

Tifa smiles sweetly and leans on his side. "It's marvelous Jaune. Everything couldn't be more perfect. Thank you."

Jaune feels his heart flutter as he feels Tifa's soft yet firm body against him. "Anytime."

After finishing their meals, they settle in to enjoy the view. Tifa is between Jaune's legs resting her back against his front. Jaune wraps his arms around her body and rests his chin on top of her glossy black mane. Tifa rests her hands on top of his.

"I have to say," Tifa says softly, still gazing at the beautiful field, "I was kind of surprised when you asked me out Jaune. You always seemed to nervous whenever it seemed you were going to ask before."

Jaune winced. "Was I that obvious?"

"Like the sky is blue!" Tifa chirped. "So what changed?"

Jaune sighs and squeezes her gently. "It's nothing. It's pretty ridiculous, honestly."

"Well," Tifa tips her head back far enough to see Jaune's face, "let me be the judge of that."

Jaune huffs and briefly looks away before resting his head back on her head. Then he began.

"You know I want to become a Huntsman, right?"

Tifa nods, "Pretty much. I know no regular person would enjoy me repeatedly tossing them on their ass for training unless they are working towards something."

Jaune snorts, "You'd be surprised."

"Hmhm. Maybe. But how does that relate?"

"Because I honestly was thinking of waiting til I became one to ask you out."

"What?!" Tifa turned around so fast Jaune thought she was going to give herself whiplash. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "Why would you wait until then?!"

Jaune smiles sadly. "Teef. You're an amazing warrior and an even more amazing person. You deserve someone better than some scrawny kid with a dream."

"Jaune-"

"Wait." Jaune said, holding her hand. "Just let me get this out first. Please."

Tifa stares at Jaune with concern evident in her eyes before nodding for him to continue.

"I didn't feel worthy of you. Hell, I still don't. And I was ready to keep my feelings to myself until I felt that I was worthy. But then i had this feeling and..." Jaune's shoulders slump and he looks down.

Tifa leans down to catch his eyes and squeezes his hands gently. "And what, Jaune? What did you feel?"

Jaune takes a deep, shaky breath before slowly raising his head to look into her eyes. And when their eyes met...

Tifa would later attribute this to a trick of the light from the sun (or maybe even an unconscious manifestation of his Aura?), but for a brief moment, Jaune's rich blue eyes seemed to have swirls of seafoam green. His eyes looked more melancholic, resembling those of veterans who have seen and lost too much in this cruel world of theirs.

When Jaune spoke, his voice even took a slightly deeper timber.

"I felt that I would regret leaving without letting you know for the rest of my life. After all, how could I expect you to wait?"

Tifa kept looking at him, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. She lifts her hands and cups his face. "Jaune, I like you. I want to be with you. That's always going to be true whether you decide to become a Huntsman or a farmer," Tifa takes a deep breath as she sees Jaune's eyes become glassy, knowing hers were the same. "And I will always wait so long as it's you."

Jaune tries hard to fight the tears threatening to come down with little success. Finally, he closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath before saying, "Thank you."

He presses his forehead against hers before opening them and asking, "Can I kiss you?"

Tifa gives a watery smile. "Dummy. That was my plan from the start." She closes the gap between them

Christ, that took a lot out of me.

So this is sort of my personal take of the AU. The original poster's version of this AU has Cloud and Jaune as separate people with their own partners. And while i enjoyed the every post, I kind of felt...bummed out, i guess because I definitely love the Cloud and Tifa pairing.

So after looking at both blond characters and seeing how strikingly similar they are even on a personality/narrative standpoint, i decided to merge them in my head. Essentially, Jaune is sort of an alternate version of Cloud, who he might've been had things been different (and if he made a different choice).

Big thanks again to @aravas-writing for letting me take a shot at this AU and for giving us fun stories from it!

[babybluebex]

no pressure at all! but if you'd want to write more stan!reader x tom I'd really love that

i literally FLEW to my computer to write this i love the concept of stan!reader so much ((also i tried second person writing here??? i actually like it a lot more than first whoops))

little one [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: tom holland x stan!fem!reader (y/n) ➽summary: when you find out you’re pregnant, you worry about how tom and your brother will react. ➽ word count: 1.6k ➽ warnings: angst, pregnancy, a lot of exposition that doesn’t matter tbh  ➽a/n: enjoy!! masterlist & taglist in my bio

Sebastian stood at the door to your room, just looking. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had moved in with him, when you were just the smallest thing. Pink skirt and pigtails, toting your dolly with you. He had been young when you were born, but still an adult; he was in college, living in the dorms when his mother had called him and told him the good news. He remembered the day you were born: he had been sitting in a lecture when his little flip phone started buzzing in his pocket. It was his stepdad, your father, telling him that his sister was coming. He left the lecture early and made it to the hospital just in time to be the first person to hold you. He was instantly devoted. 

You moved in with him when you were six. His mom had told him that she needed to move back to Romania and that she planned to bring you, and panic had filled his chest. “No, no,” he said. “Sh-She just started school! She doesn’t speak the language, she’s making all kinds of friends here! Mom, you can’t relocate her, you just can’t.” 

“What else can we do?” your mother asked. “Are you going to watch her?”

A month later, Sebastian was your legal guardian. He came to school plays and parent-teacher conferences, he cleaned up your skinned knees, and he read you stories every night. The two of you had gotten into a habit of falling asleep next to each other, and it got to the point where the bed felt too empty without you. Too cold, too lonely.

When you were twelve, you and Sebastian moved into a new apartment. It was bigger and better suited for two people, and you got a big-girl room. You started sleeping in your own bed, but you had no idea the effect it had on your brother. He couldn’t sleep without you next to him, digging your heels into his back and taking up all the blankets. So, he picked his happy ass up out of bed and, making sure to bring his own blanket, came to linger in your doorway. “I… I can’t sleep without you,” he mumbled. 

“You’re a grown man, Seb,” you said; he was always amazed at the little lady you had become, a smart girl with a biting sarcasm, even when you were little. 

“Yeah, and every night for the past six years, I’ve had your feet in my back,” Sebastian said. He settled into your bed next to, and added, “Now, move over, munch, or I’ll drag you back to mine.” 

Sebastian leaned his head against the doorframe, looking at the room. The walls had once been pink but were now an off-white, more becoming of a young woman, and the band posters were replaced with art prints and collages of you with your friends. Sure, he knew everybody grew up eventually, and he liked you as an adult, but sometimes he missed the little girl who was missing her two front teeth. 

The door to the apartment slammed closed, and Sebastian unwillingly pulled himself from his daydream. “Hey, munch!” he called. “How was Tom?”

Back on Valentine's Day, when you told him about you and Tom, he was instantly thrilled. Even though he outwardly seemed like he didn’t like Tom, he knew that Tom would treat you like the princess you were. And, for the past few months, he had been. Flowers were sent to the apartment on a near-weekly basis, handwritten letters came in the mail regularly, and Sebastian often heard little giggling coming from your room when Tom would call you. He had seen you smitten over guys before, but Tom Holland was a different breed. 

After a date with Tom, you were guaranteed to be talking up a storm, but you were quiet. “Munch?” Sebastian called. “Y/N?”

There was a sniffle from the living room, and a meek, “Seb?” 

Sebastian’s heart fell, and he hurried to see you on the couch, the comfy tufted leather that Mackie had so highly praised. You were crying, your knees drawn up to your chest. “No, no, no,” Sebastian cooed and hugged you tightly. “What happened, darling, is everything okay? Did Tom say something? Did you guys… Did you guys break up?” 

You shook your head and opened your mouth, as if to speak, but a sob left instead. Your chest was so heavy, and you knew that admitting this to Sebastian-- to anyone-- would make it too real but the secret was killing you. You had known that you were pregnant for nearly a month now, but you didn’t want to tell anyone. You knew that your brother would say that you’re too young and that Tom would say that he had a career to think about. And, on a small level, you knew that was true. You couldn’t ask Tom to dismantle his life plans for you and a baby. 

“Talk to me, darling,” Sebastian whispered. “What’s wrong?” 

You sniffled and leaned into your brother’s warmth, and your tears became new. Sebastian would flip shit, you knew it. “I--” You started. “Please don’t be mad at me, please, I can’t take it right now--” 

“Hey, hey,” Sebastian said quickly. “I could never be mad at you. Please, talk to me. You’re breaking my heart here, Y/N.” 

You settled your cheek into Sebastian’s chest, and the emotions ran hot in your face and chest and belly. “Seb,” you whispered. “I… I’m pregnant.” 

A million different emotions ran through his brain at once. Elation, anger, confusion, and so much more. “You…” he started. “You’re--”

“I’m so scared, Seb,” you whispered. “W-What if Tommy wants to break up with me?” Your breaths came in quick, sharp gasps, and Sebastian held you tightly to try to ease the anxiety. He was prone to anxiety attacks like this too, and you had learned how to settle him down, but he hardly ever had to do it to you. You were so grounded, so level-headed and serious. This was the most emotionally unhinged that he had seen you in years. 

The sounds of your crying died away, and you found your ears full of deep whispers. You had learned bits and pieces of Romanian growing up-- enough to pull out as a party trick-- but could never fluently speak it like your mom and your brother could, but you recognized the sound of it. Sebastian was whispering Romanian to you in a lilting voice, and it took you a moment to place it. A song; a lullaby. Sebastian was singing you a lullaby. The sound of it eased your nerves enough to dry up your tears, and you sniffled a bit as you sat up, shedding your big brother’s protective embrace. 

“Look,” Sebastian began. “I know I act like a dick to Tom a lot, but… I really like him. I wouldn’t have let him stick around if I didn’t. I trust him to do the right thing here.” 

“B-But what if he doesn’t?” You whimpered. “Wh-What if he does leave?”

“If he leaves, it’s his own fucking loss,” Sebastian told you. “That baby doesn’t need anybody but you and me, right? I’ve got you, darling. I’ve always had you.”  

You nodded because, once again, your older brother was the wiser of you. You knew that everything he said was true, even if your whole body hadn’t quite absorbed it yet. Tom would be a great dad; and if he wasn’t, you had Sebastian. “Can you stay with me?” You asked, grabbing your brother’s hand. “I-I’m gonna call him.” 

“Sure thing, munch,” Sebastian said, and he settled his arm around your shoulders. His little sister, the same little girl that cried at Bambi and Bucky falling off the train, was going to be a mom. Where did the time go?, he wondered. 

The phone rang out quickly, and Tom answered it swiftly. “Hey,” he said. “I just dropped you off, is everything alright?” 

You took a deep breath. Your heart was beating so quickly that you could hear it in your ears, and you mumbled, “Yeah, yeah, I just… I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh,” Tom said. “Sure. What’s going on?” 

Sebastian’s gaze was fixed on you, and he gave you a prompting nod. “Tommy, I…” You started. It was real. This was real now. “I’m pregnant.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line, long and potent enough for anger to start to flare in Sebastian’s stomach. “Are you serious?” Tom whispered finally. His voice was static-y over the phone, and you couldn’t place his emotions at all. 

“I’m so sorry, Tom--”

“Sorry for what?” And then there was a laugh. “Are you really pregnant? Please don’t be kidding with me, you don’t know how happy this makes me!”

Sebastian gave a sigh of relief, and he wiped one of your tears away with his thumb. “I really am,” you told him. “You’re not mad?”

“Why the fuck would I be mad?” Tom laughed. “I’m gonna be a dad! I’m gonna be a dad, Y/N! Thank you, thank you! I love you so much, baby, you have no idea. Does Sebastian know yet?”

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s the first one I told.” 

“Oh, no,” Tom whispered. 

“Yeah, oh no,” Sebastian said. “Dating my sister’s one thing, Holland, but knocking her up is different. What, you’ve got an aversion to condoms or something? I’m gonna kill you.” 

“Hey, Sebastian,” Tom chuckled lightly. “Look, it was an accident--”

“Oh, ‘cause that makes it better?” Sebastian scoffed. “Jesus Christ, you’re lucky you’re not here right now--”

“Shut up, both of you,” you sighed. “Tommy, you swear you’re not mad?” 

“Why would I be mad?” Tom repeated. “I’m so thankful. Thank you, my love, thank you.”

[mentally-unavailable]

How To Court A Cryptid: 101 Chapter: 2

PREVIOUS CHAPTER or NEXT CHAPTER

T/W: cursing, smoking, sex jokes/inuendos, jokes of murder

I sat on our lawn chair in our backyard staring at the sky, the sun had set and the stars were out. It was nice, Baby our fat tabby cat sat on the table in front of me purring. 

“You’re thick as fuck bitch” I said petting Baby, he meowed in return leaning into my pets. 

“Not as thick as me” Ana said as she sat down in the chair in front of me. She pulled out her cigarettes' box grabbing one the holding it out towards me. I smiled before grabbing a cig and getting out my lighter. I light the cig then handed the lighter to her. She nodded before putting up the box, lighting her cigarette and handing me back my lighter. I took in a deep breathe of the smoke before holding and letting out.

“Yo, I saw your tweet. That’s cool you wanna stream, you know where?” Ana asked letting out the smoke and leaning back in her chair. 

“Yeah, probably twitch since I can do more things or what not. I have to set up stuff for it. I’ll ask Thomas for help if I need it” I replied petting Baby. Ana hummed in acknowledgement while looking up at the sky.

Ana is my older sister, she’s the second oldest to James, older brother. She has a buzz cut and a nose piercing on her left nostril. She has blue eyes and eyes shaved into circles, she was the first kid mom and dad adopted. She’s from Norway; she was adopted at five years old. After Ana was James, he was adopted from here in England when he was ten. He lives with his girlfriend near dads work. I was the final kid to be adopted, I was adopted a eight from (State) America.

“You know, I’ve been seeing your pictures around on Twitter, apparently one of Tommy’s friends posted it and you’ve been spreading like wild fire. All of their followers have labeled you the Dream SMP discord cryptid.” Ana said with a chuckle. I rolled my eyes, my name on social media is ‘Cryptid_Bastard’. 

“How ironic” I said smiling. Ana laughed while breathing in her cigarette before blowing out.

“You know, me and the boys are recording our new song tomorrow. I’m pretty excited myself” Ana said looking over at me, I nodded. Ana is in a band called ‘No Rest for The Bastards; as the lead singer and bass. 

“Cool, I think your going to do great” I said finishing my cig before putting it out and putting it into the empty flower pot in the middle of the table.

My phone started to ring from my pocket, quickly I fished it out and answered.

“Ass and Ass Emporium, are you clapping or slapping today?” I said with a serious tone.

“Jesus Christ (y/n) that is quite inappropriate for a child to hear” Tommy said with a laugh on the other side. I chuckled, looking over at Ana who was laughing her ass off at my answering message.

“Yeah, yeah Thomas. Don’t act like you haven’t worse on the internet” I said leaning on the table.

“Yeah, well I was wondering. Do you wanna stream with me? Or well be in one of my streams? I know you’ve said no in the past but, you see one of my friends leaked some photos of you on his alt and everyone is raving about it. Some say your fake or whatever, anyway! Would you be down?” He asked, I could here him typing away at his computer.

“Uh, sure. I think that would be fun. I know I said no in the past, but I think it would be fun” I said “Cause, you see. I also need to learn how to be a streamer since my fans want me to stream”

“Oh! That’s cool! Yeah, I can teach you the ways of the stream life style! Don’t worry I am a big man who knows things!” He said giggling, I chuckled in response.

“Cool, we can set up a time then cause I’m free whenever” I said picking at my nails.

“Cool, cool. Just wanted to talk to you about that. I got to go, have a good night!” Tommy yelled to me

“Good night Thomas” I said back before hanging up.

Over the next few days, me and Tommy got together planning for our stream. He would now post cryptic pictures of me on his twitter as a teaser. Finally the day came where we would stream, I walked over to his about 30 minutes before. I said hello to his parents before making my way to his room. Today I wore my patch jacket, with a sleeveless shirt under, ripped baggy pants, platform boots and a bunch of accessories. I also did my hair and made myself look presentable, when I got to Tommy’s door I quickly knocked.

“Oi, you decent Thomas?” I asked keeping my hand on the door knob

“Yeah, come on in!” He yelled from the other side of the door, I then opened the door and let myself in. I had my bags strap in hand as I shut the door and looked over at Tommy. He was sitting at his desk getting everything ready, I smiled with a sense of pride seeing him doing what he loves.

“You have horrible posture you know?” I say as I go and sit on his bed, he turned to look at me offended

“Wow, your mean you know that?” He says crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, I laugh

“Guess, you won’t get any brownies my mama made” I said with a smirk. He imminently sat up straight and looked amazed

“The Mrs. (l/n) famous brownies! What let me have one!” he said holding out his hand. I shook my head at his enthusiasm before reaching into my bag a pulling out a small container of brownies. I popped off the lid and grabbed out a brownie, I made my hand towards his open palm before pulling back my hand and stuffing the sweet into my mouth.

“HEY! Give me one!” He yelled before trying to reach for the container, I quickly leaned back keeping it out of his reach.

“Say it” I said looking at him. He looked confused before sighing

“No, I am not saying it” He said pouting

“Then no brownie” I said grabbing another and eating it.

“FINE! You’re the alpha friend” he said with a pout, I smiled before grabbing a brownie and handing it to him.

“Good, here you go bubbs. So, whatcha up to?” I ask setting the container on his desk and leaning back on my hands. 

“I’m just setting up my stream stuff and making sure everything will come out smooth, speaking of which we are gonna go live in five minutes.” He said looking back at the computer monitor. I nodded before grabbing the extra chair and sitting off away from the camera’s view.

“How do we wanna start the stream? Or introduce me?” I ask leaning back in the chair

“I can make it seem very scary, with the lights off and then you wheel yourself into view of the camera and you introduce yourself or whatever” He said pulling up his twitch and hovering the go live button.

(A/n: I have no idea how streaming works, so if I’m wrong let me know!)

“Cool” I say walking over to the light switch and turning it off before returning to my chair.

“Alright, we go live in one minute, you ready?” Tommy asked looking over at me, I smiled.

“Ready as I’ll ever be”

(A/N: Here is chapter 2 done! I hope y’all liked it! The next chapter will be about the stream and meeting everyone! If you wish to be apart of my taglist, check out my taglist link and comment there so I can keep track of all of you. Hope y’all have a great day/afternoon/night in your little corner of the world. Stay hydrated! :P)

TAGLIST:

@teenage0jealousy 

@smolgreenybeany​

[valhallasubstitute]

Pleasure

Edward x F Reader

The reader teaches Edward a thing or two about pleasure

REQUEST: Can i request a *smut* with Edward from TLK?

Maybe a dane reader that absolute rock his shit like nobody before 😂 she can be Finan Or Sihtric sister maybe?! Thank you!

A/N: Evidently, I don’t think much of the English as lovers lol, I blame my first bf – Tom if you find this, thank you for the inspo. Also, if anyone’s interested in a dom reader then please let me know, I think there’s a real lack and that makes the switch in me v sad

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+. Unprotected sex – it’s the ninth century they have an excuse, you don’t. M!Sub/F!dom undertones, brief female masturbation, male receiving oral

WC: 1654

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @geekandbooknerd @mariaenchanted @solinarimoon

You could honestly say you never expected things to turn out this way.

How many Danes could say they had discussed the boy King’s sex life with him? If you counted yourself then it would be three. Sihtric, your brother, and Uhtred sitting either side of you.  Add in the Irishman that started it all, the baby monk and a vaguely uncomfortable looking Lady of Mercia and the number of people looking unimpressed rises to six.

You sat around the fire; ale pouch being passed between you after another successful battle, but your good spirits were beginning to dwindle as you listen to Edward describe his other conquests.

There were more than you had expected, but you supposed his title and pretty face made it hard for young maidens to deny him. You hadn’t denied yourself the pleasure of admiring him either, long blond curls that grazed his broad shoulders, and light blue eyes, usually set in a frown. You found yourself believing his words before battle, letting his passion seep through you as you lost yourself in the sight of him, arm outstretched with a sword in hand, strong thighs gripping the saddle and a ferocity that one might overlook upon first meeting Edward.

It had the foundations of a fantasy that would have kept you warm.

The conversation moved slowly, Edward relaxing and his words becoming freer. You forced yourself back to the present, preparing yourself to hear another depressing confession.

‘The last was a girl from the camp just outside of Lundon. She was wild.’

‘Wild? Now this I can get behind.’ Finan leaned forward, a new sense of interest washing over him as Edward nodded. You had already heard of the ‘daring’ places Edward had fucked, the palace guest room, the stable, and who could forget his royal tent! Wild, you decided, was something Edward had never come across.

‘She took me out to the woods and laid herself bare before me.’ You watched the interest of the group peak, even your brother raised a brow. ‘She started touching herself.’ He motioned to his chest. ‘I’ve never seen a woman so bold. How is a man meant to control himself?’ Uhtred nodded lightly, taking the ale from a grinning Finan. ‘I laid her on the ground and had my way with her.’

Finan’s face fell. ‘That’s what you call wild? Christ have mercy.’

That was when it hit you. It wasn’t that the King was a bad lover necessarily, it was that none of what he had experience had anything to do with pleasure. Not real pleasure.

‘With respect my Lord, none of your exploits deserve the praise in which you speak of them.’

Aethelflaed’s eyes snapped to you as your words settled over the group. You watched as Edward straightened himself, his hands dusting his thighs before he looked at you. The ease was gone from his denier and for the first time that night you felt like you were speaking to the King of Wessex.

‘How so?’ His voice was calm, interest peeking out from behind his pride.

‘What you have described is the way all Saxon men are. You lie a woman on her back, slip inside – she’ll make a few noises, to hurry you up.’ You shrugged sympathetically. ‘Maybe she is feeling particularly generous, or bored, and will wrap her legs around you, pull you deeper so that she might feel something and coo in your ear a sweet encouragement. It’ll last all of five minutes before you’re lying on your back, satisfied, and she’ll tell how good you were before slipping away. Am I wrong, Aethelflaed?’

All eyes snapped to the Lady of Mercia, the way she looked down and the uncharacteristic blush on her cheeks told everyone everything they needed to know.

‘The thing is, Edward, is that you never had sex for pleasure.’ The King opened his mouth, but you kept going, ignoring the baffled looks from Saxons around you. ‘Only for release and they are not the same.’

Finan was the first to agree. ‘I like the way you think Y/N.’

‘Many men do.’ You stood as you spoke, smiling at your friends but staring pointedly at Edward before retiring to your tent.

It was around an hour later when you sense that you were not alone. In just your tunic you glanced at the dagger at your side before addressing the presence.

‘It’s not very kingly to lurk in the shadows, my lord.’

‘Your words have left an impression.’ The candlelight danced on Edwards features, and you almost missed the reservation in his steps for the soft curve of his mouth. You stood, walking towards him slowly, a small smile encouraging him. ‘After you left, I thought about the things you described, and myself in relation to them. You were right and … and I would like to experience it.’

You could sense his nerves despite the way Edward held your gaze, it was unwavering but as you circled him you noted the way his hands fidgeted behind his back.

‘Experience what my king?’ You stopped in front of him, your chest nearly brushing against his.

‘Pleasure.’

His lips crashed into yours, demanding but soft. You let yourself melt into it, tasting the ale on his tongue before pulling back completely. You laughed as Edward frowned, as a prince he was spoiled, it was clear to see, but you intended to ruin him as a king.

You lead him to the furs of your bed, telling him to sit with a light push on his chest. His eyes were already trained on you but darkened as you removed your clothing, leaving your body exposed. You took delight in how he didn’t know where to look, his eyes darting from your face to your sex with his bottom lip tugged tightly between his teeth.

You let your hands roam around your body, swaying gently till you palmed at your breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers. Your eyes fixated on the growing strain in Edwards breeches as your other hand travelled south, your index finger slipping between your thighs with a gasp.

‘Y/n…’ The sound of your name on his tongue made your stomach flutter, he sounded demanding.

‘Pleasure is the pleasure of your partner.’ You moaned quietly as you slipped another finger into your heat, keeping the pace steady.

‘Show me.’ He sounded desperate.

You took your fingers from between your thighs and brought them to your lips, smiling as Edwards own lips parted in want. You moved towards him slowly, enjoying the growing sweat forming on his forehead and the way he licked his lips.  

He reached for you, but you knelt before him, your hands running up his thighs before you began untying his trousers. He lifted his hips and you focused on ridding him of the fabric before turning your attention to his erection.

It stood proudly before you, the tip red and already leaking precum. You breathed in deeply before pursing your lips and blowing cold air directly onto his member. Edward inhaled deeply, a smile coming to your lips when it jumped in response.

‘You are teasing me.’

‘I am pleasuring you.’ Edward opened his mouth to argue but the words died in his throat. Your lips wrapped around as much of him as you could fit, your hands finding the rest. You bobbed your head once, twice, flattening your tongue as you went down then curling it as you came up. Edward’s left hand bunched in the sheets, grounding himself while his right tangled itself in your hair, his grip creating a delicious burn.

Breathing through your nose you took him as deeply as you could, your throat contracting around him as your vision blurred. The way Edward moaned kept you there for longer than you had any man, quickly finding yourself obsessed with the way his eyes fluttered and his throat bobbed as he tried to hold back the noises. You only stopped when your lungs demanded it.

‘God … Please, Y/n.’

You kissed your way from his balls to his tip, giving it one last lick before kissing up the rest of his body, undoing his shirt as you went. You let your hands roam around the tight muscles of his thighs and abdomen, your tongue following your fingers until you were sat in his lap, your hands tangled in his hair and your lips branding his neck.

‘I want you Y/n.’ You pulled back, lips tingling and bruised, your core brushing against his erection.

‘You want me Edward, but do you desire me?’

‘Yes.’

You smiled at him, the darkness in his eyes and his grip on your hips making you ache. You sunk down on him slowly, enjoying the way he stretched you. You stilled as your hips met his, grinding your clit against his body. The tiny jolts of movement began to pick up speed, Edwards lips discovering the slope of your neck and your hands digging into his shoulders. You wanted it to last forever, to feel the hot ache of him between your legs but you knew he was close. His hips jutted up to meet yours, one of his hands finding its way to your clit as his breath grew heavy in your ear.

His fingers were skilled, rubbing in time to his thrusts while you clawed at his back, your knees beginning to give from beneath you. You came with a call of his name, the tightness in your stomach snapping into white pleasure that washed over your body, wave after wave. Edwards’s pace didn’t slow, and your walls gripped him tightly, convulsing around him until he came with a deep moan. His fingers slowed and both his hands come to rest on your hips. He was smiling.

‘From now on, I think I will always choose pleasure.’

‘A wise choice my lord, I’ll always be happy to comply.’

[lisinfleur]

Memento Mori

The request:

Author’s Notes | This came out sadder than I thought. But it’s beautiful imo and I hope you like it. Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | requested by anon for 5CW Ivar II, posted for HTGI Event. Words | 1894 ⁑ Warnings: Triggering content: mentions of child loss (past), mentions to burns, deep angst. Caution is recommended, the following content may be triggering to some audiences.

She became my queen.

From a woman I couldn't handle looking at to the one I didn't want to take my eyes off, Y/N became the most precious of my treasures.

And perhaps it was the reason why finding that piece of metal hidden beneath her pillow was such a huge betrayal to me.

Perhaps it was for loving her too deeply that I let out raw screams of rage that woke up the whole Hall when I found that symbol of her lies.

I could remember every trace of our story.

The day I chose her from the line of our Saxon's slaves because she noticed I was in pain.

"I know how to care for these pains, my lord."

Her ointments, her treatments, how slowly she eased the pain of my body more than any healer was able to do. How, one night at a time, it brought her closer to me like a companion.

How it made me talk to her, be gentler, try to get her smiles.

How her presence became the easiest way to get mine.

My fingers pressed that piece of retorted metal, remembering how deep I'd fallen in love with her. How she promised she would leave her past for me. How I asked her to come home with me. To come into my life. To be mine, and no one else's.

Every single promise of hers was broken by that piece's presence.

How could I trust her when she was betraying me like that? Laying beside me with that symbol as if it wasn't a crime by itself against my trust, against my love.

Against everything.

"How could you?" I yelled when she came into our room, attracted by my screams. "How could you lie to me like this?"

The metal cross, made of gold and silver, hanging from my fingers for her major shock and surprise.

"Ivar..."

"No!" I yelled again.

My voice was as loud as the pain was big in my heart.

"I've been trusting you all these years, Y/N. I trusted your promises! I made you my wife!" I said, looking at her with fierce and sharp blues. "I made you my queen... I gave you everything and this... This is how you repay my love!"

"Ivar no!" she insisted, trying to approach. "It's not what you think..."

I pushed her away, watching as she fell near the fireplace.

"Don't come to me with more of your lies, woman!" I kept yelling, furious. "What more, Y/N?" I asked.

My eyes deep inside of hers.

"What more about you is a lie? What more did you tell me you would do that you're not doing, my dear wife? Uh? What more?!"

Her tears started rolling down her face, but I could see her eyes were focused on the piece in my hand, and it just made me angrier. She wasn't really feeling bad nor guilty about lying to me.

No.

Her major concern was that piece in my hands. That cross was so beloved that she could ignore my deepest wounds to look at it with all the fear of Midgard in her eyes.

She wasn't afraid of losing me the same way she was terrified by the idea of losing that scrap of meaningless metal I had in my hands.

I've seen it in red.

I didn't see when I threw that shit in the fire, hearing with contempt the yell of despair her voice converted into. Watching with deception while she burned her own fingers to pick that piece from the fire, hurting her hands I'd caressed so many times.

Everything just to have back that meaningless symbol of her treason.

The metal didn't even have time to get warm enough to be damaged, but she had marks from the burning wood she had touched fearlessly for that insignificant proof of her crime.

"Is it this strong?" I asked, looking at her with disdain. "Your faith in him is so..."

"It was my child's!" she cried out loud, cutting my voice.

Freezing me in place when her sobs broke her voice, and I saw her bringing that cross close to her heart, embracing it with her wounded hands as if it was the most precious thing in this world.

"It was my child's crucifix," she sobbed. "It was everything that's left from my baby boy. I didn't have time to pick up his clothes. I couldn't pick up anything. This is everything that's left."

My shock was maybe as big as my confusion.

"You... Had a child?" I asked, totally stunned by those words.

Still trembling, Y/N lifted her face, looking at me with thick tears in her eyes full of sorrow.

"My little Rafael..." she mumbled, making my face frown with all the love in the way she spoke his name.

I could remember hearing something about a Rafael from Bishop Heahmund, cycles ago. Something about an arch-angel or something like that.

"I named him after the archangel of healing, begging God to heal his awful pain. Begging anyone who could bless my hands to relieve his constant misery," she continued.

Crushing my heart with the sigh of my mother's eyes on hers.

She was speaking of her Rafael the same way mother used to speak about... Me.

"He was my everything. My one and only child my husband didn't want to accept. He left me because of Rafael's condition, saying I'd given birth to a demon. But My child wasn't a demon!" she yelled.

Defending her child... The same way mother would do to me...

"He's not a monster!"

I swallowed dry as she continued, making that knot in my throat almost suffocating.

"Rafael was just a child in pain. His legs were like yours," she cried.

Her burnt fingers caressing the jewel in her hands.

"Sometimes, I couldn't even hold my son without hurting him," she mumbled painfully. "Sometimes, even the minimum movement would break his little bones, so I was twice as careful when doing anything to my little angel. But..."

The pause in her voice filled my heart with sorrow.

I had never scratched that part of her story. I could imagine why.

I could imagine how it would end.

"First, I thought he was indeed a little angel God decided to take back to the sky. Then... Then the anger came. Why would God make such an innocent angel suffer like that? Why giving him to me if I would have to bury his little broken body with my bare hands? I yelled at God. I cried at him. But he never answered me. And then... I got revolted. My little Rafael wasn't with me anymore. And it was God's fault for doing him that way! It was God's fault for allowing my child to suffer. It was my fault for producing him imperfectly. It was everyone's fault!" she paused, swallowing her sobs for a moment. "And when your men came, when your faith came, and I've heard your words about yourself, I finally understood. It was no one's fault. It was his fate. It was my fate. And God didn't make him like that to suffer. No. The gods had given him to me as a gift so he could spend the most beautiful days of my life in my arms. The gods had cut the thread of his life to spare him from suffering cause his condition was worse than yours. And he wouldn't survive as long as you did."

Her words were killing me inside, softly.

She'd found relief in my faith. She'd found an answer to her questions in my gods. And there I was, hurting her because of a stupid necklace.

"The gods showed me their mercy bringing you into my life so I could understand my child's fate. And so..." Y/N looked at me. "So I thought they wouldn't be mad if I saved this little memento. It means nothing the faith it carries, Ivar. It's not Christ's cross anymore. This... This is my remembrance of my sweet Rafael. This doesn't turn me to the skies, Ivar. This makes me remember his tiny little fingers trying to catch this cross in my hands, or his giggles whenever it would shine for him to see."

Her voice broke. The sobs engulfed her. And I saw her embracing the necklace again as if she could embrace her child the gods had taken from her so soon.

How stupid I was. How unfair could I be?

I sat in my bed, taking off my braces and dragging myself closer to her, bringing my bandages and ointment I took from my nightstand. Slowly, I took the small piece from her hands, treating it with the proper respect when I placed it gently on her neck, carrying for her hands and bandaging the burns after spreading the ointment over them.

I kissed her fingers and cupped her face, kissing her forehead and wiping her tears.

"I'm sorry," I said, looking into her eyes. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did, my love. Forgive me, please." I asked.

No shame of showing my regret, gently caressing her cheeks.

She leaned into my hands, so mine. Her eyes closed as she felt my caresses, sighing as if they could soothe the pain in her heart.

"I didn't lie to you, my heart. I swear," she mumbled.

"Shhh..." I said, touching her lips gently. "I know. I was wrong," I mumbled, touching our foreheads, slowly nuzzling my nose to hers.

"He taught me how to take care of you, my love," she said, opening her eyes so deep into mine. "I've learned with my child how to soothe your pain. He was so important in my life... I would've never known how to care for you if it wasn't for his existence. He allowed us to exist. And I'm so grateful I had him, although it was for such little time, I'm grateful."

I held her in my arms, cradling her body against mine. And I stayed there a long time trying to compensate for my horrible behavior.

When she fell asleep that night, I went out of our house. I crawled up on the hill, and I gathered stones. I placed them all together, and marked them with runes, placing some flowers and small decorations around them.

I made it as if it was my own child. And I prayed for him, asking the gods he could hear me that single night.

"I don't know where you are. If with Hel or in heaven, as the Christians believe. But I want you to know I'll take care of her. I swear on my arm ring I'll never make her cry like this once again. And when your brothers and sisters come, I'll tell them about you. I'll tell them your story. So, you shall live through them. So, you shall live forever."

After that, I saw my dear Y/N with her precious cross here or there. She didn't have to hide it from me anymore, so, sometimes, I would see her holding the small jewel with tenderness. But now, it had a whole new meaning to me.

And I knew, somewhere in the afterlife, a child was very happy for the loving mother that brought him into this world someday.

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[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 7 | If anyone is taking my wife out on a date, it’ll be me!

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom finally pulls himself together to tell Molly he loves her.  But is it too late for these two? 

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom paced around the house for a good two hours. Each plan he came up with to win Molly back, more hairbrained than the next. None of them would have worked anyway. Tom didn’t know where she was staying. And she had been smart enough to withdraw cash from an ATM to use for a hotel room. During Tom’s muttering and ranting, his eye caught the vase Molly put the flowers from yesterday in. The sight of them enraged him so much that he flung them across the room. It hit the wall, sending glass, water and flowers flying and leaving a mark on the wall.

“Fuck! Another fucking mess to clean up.” he growled at himself as he went to clean it up.

Tom sliced open a finger and the palm of his right hand, picking up the glass shards to bin them.

“Christ, Thomas! Can’t do anything right. Break the vase and make a mess, cut your hand to hell, destroy the one good thing…”

He collapsed into sobs against the wall, covering his eyes with his non-injured hand. The other hand hung at his side, blood dripping onto the floor. It took a good five minutes for Tom to get himself off the floor. He poorly dressed the wound on his palm, having only the use of one hand and not his good hand.

Rather than bothering to clean up the mess, he let it sit and headed to bed. Not that he would do much sleeping.

He woke the next morning to more speculation in the papers about his marriage and a splitting headache. He fixed himself an espresso. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he missed dinner yesterday. Tom opened the fridge to find storage containers of fruit with little notes on them.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Tom chuckled as tears welled up again. “Oh, Molly.” He opened up the container and popped a piece of melon into his mouth. His phone buzzed.

“Ben.” he answered dryly, popping another piece of melon in.

“That bad? I suspected as much. How did you fuck this up?” Ben chuckled.

“I yelled. I called her stupid. I got jealous. But mostly I yelled. I never should have yelled at her. She doesn’t like to be yelled at. I promised not to yell at her…”

“You’re babbling, Tom. How on earth does a confession of your undying love turn into you yelling and her, sleeping on the couch?”

“Never got that far, and she moved out.” Tom sniffled. “I, I don’t know where she is.”

“Well, damn it man, find her and fix this. I can’t handle another six months of you moping about.” Ben groaned.

“What makes you think she’ll take me back. I broke her trust. I did the one thing—”

“She will take you back because she loves you. Don’t believe everything you read in the papers. Besides, didn’t Loki kick Captain America’s ass?”

Tom chuckled. “Only once.” Tom sighed. “But how am I going to find her?”

“Have you tried the phone?”

Tom glared at his mobile. “You are hilarious, mate. Yes.”

“One of her friends then. Surely, someone must know where she is staying.”

Tom shook his head. “She doesn’t really have many…” Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve got to let you go, Ben.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I got to sell my soul.”

“To the Devil?”

“Worse. My sister.”

-

Emma didn’t expect to see her brother appear on her doorstep that morning. She had expected him to call first.

“I don’t know where she is, Tom!” Emma snapped back.

“You’re lying, Emma. Your brow always twitches when you are lying. Where is she, Emma?”

“I’m not telling you, Tom. She told me what you said.” Emma narrowed her eyes at her brother.

“And I need to tell her I was a right bastard.”

“Which you are!”

Tom shook his head. “If I tell you everything, will you tell where Molly is? I don’t care if she tells me to fuck off. I just need her to know I love her. More than anything.”

Emma opened the door wider and crossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

Tom stepped inside. “So you know how after the break-up, the papers kept running stories about me?”

“Yeah…”

Tom ran his toe along the edge of the rug in Emma’s foyer. “So I may have come up with the idea of getting married to give the papers something else to write?”

Emma’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “So you’re not married. Mum is going to—”

“Oh no, I’m legally married. I’ve got the certificate to prove it. I agreed to pay off her debts in exchange for carrying as my wife.” Tom’s voice grew smaller as he explained the whole arrangement.

“Is Molly a—”

“Don’t even say it, Emma or I swear. Don’t speak ill of Molly. She is a nice girl who has managed admirably despite a horrific childhood. And I…” He struggled to find the words.

“Fell in love.” Emma finished his sentence.

Tom’s eyes welled with tears, and he nodded. “I did. I didn’t mean to, but I did, Em. She is…” Tom choked. “… my world. I love her so much it burns me from the inside out and she doesn’t know. She needs to know. I can’t let her go without her knowing she is loved. By me.” A tear fell onto Tom’s cheek.

Emma stood there for a moment, silently staring at her brother, crying in her foyer. “You realize by telling me all this, I will have enough to blackmail you until the end of time to not tell Mother?”

“A price I will gladly pay to get the chance to talk to my wife one more time.” Tom gazed up at his sister. “Will you help me, Emma?”

She shifted her feet around. “She’s at the Park International Hotel, Room 223.”

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Em.”

“Go get the girl, Tom.” she smiled at him.

-

“Thanks for coming over.” Molly sniffled. “I know you’re busy.”

“Hey, hey.” Chris reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s no trouble. You sounded so upset on the phone.”

Molly smiled over at Chris before her face crumbled as she cried again. For the looks of it, she had cried most of the night. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red.

“Sh, sh, sh.” Chris moved to envelope her in a hug, pulling her tight to his chest. “Tell me what happened. It’s about the picture, isn’t it?”

Molly nodded her head against him. “Yes.”

“I can’t imagine Tom getting mad about that, babe. We are just friends.”

“I know, right? But Tom got so mad and cold. And he yelled. He knows how… how.. I.. am with yelling.” She buried her head in his chest. “I thought he cared about me.”

“Of course he cares about you. He loves you, Molly.” Chris pulled back. “You’re his wife.”

“It’s a bit more to it than that, I’m afraid.” She wiped the tears away. “Our relationship is…” She was on the verge of telling Chris everything.

“Complicated?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “Tell me about it. And the fame only makes it worst. Everyone watching and judging. They have no idea what is going behind closed doors.”

“That’s an understatement.” Molly sniffled. “How do you deal?”

Chris smiled and laughed. “Not well. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m single.”

“A handsome guy like you?” Molly teased.

“I have my flaws. But my dog thinks I’m great.”

Molly laughed for the first time. “I bet he does.”

“But the important thing is that the two of you love and care for each other, and the rest of it is bullshit.” Chris sighed. “And you and Tom clearly care for each other. Why else would he act so possessive?” Chris smirked.

“You noticed that?”

“I could have been blind and noticed that. Tom has got it bad. And I can’t say I blame him. A beautiful, amazing girl like you. He’s a lucky guy. If you were single…”

Molly blushed. “Thanks.”

They sat in awkward silence until Chris smacked his legs.

“Well, this is awkward. I’m going to go get some food for us and bring it back, and we are going to figure out what to do next.”

Chris turned to leave. “Chris!” Molly called out.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for everything.”

“Sure, babe.”

-

Tom stepped out of the elevator and walked towards Molly’s room. The entire drive over, Tom went through his head what he would say to Molly. How he would beg her to come back. That he loved her. All that went out the window when he saw Chris leaving Molly’s room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tom bellowed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Chris spun around and his eyes narrowed. “I’m here at Molly’s request. Apparently, her husband upset her.” he sniped back.

“And you’re here to comfort her? That’s my job. I’m her husband.” Tom’s fist clenched as he saw Chris smirking at him.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job, buddy. She’s been crying all night.” Chris jabbed his thumb at the door.

“How would you know that?!” Tom marched forward until he was toe to toe with Evans.

Chris looked Tom up and down. “Listen,” he ignored Tom’s question. “if things don’t work out between the two of you, mind if I date her? She’s seems like a great girl, deserves a good—”

CRACK! Tom punched Chris square on the jaw. Chris tumbled to the ground, holding his face.

“If anyone is taking my wife out on a date, it’ll be me!” Tom yelled back.

“Tom!” Molly stood at the door. “What the fuck?!”

“Molly!” Tom and Chris called out together. They both rushed to her, but Tom got there first, kicking a foot out to keep Chris at bay.

“Darling, I…” Tom reached out for her. Molly took a step back.

“How did you even find me?”

“Emma told me.”

Molly huffed. “Traitor.”

“She knows.” Tom leaned in.

Molly gasped. “You told her?! But she might tell your mom. Tom, I…”

“You’re worth the risk.”

“I should say so.” Chris piped up.

Tom’s head twisted around to glare at Chris.

“You’re still here? This is none of your concern.” Tom hissed.

“I was invited.” Chris straightened his shirt. “Right, Molly?”

Molly held up her hand. “I think you should go, Chris.”

“But—” Chris protested.

“Tom and I need to talk. Alone.”

Tom smiled at Chris. “Nice to see you, mate.”

Chris wanted to push the issue but knew better. He sighed. “Fine, but call me if you need anything, Molly. I’m still in town for a few more days.”

Molly nodded. “Got it. Thanks, Chris.”

“You’re welcome.” Chris shoved his pockets and walked towards the elevator.

Tom returned his attention to Molly. They stepped into her room and shut the door. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours, Molly. And he’s already in your be—”

“Did you just come here to yell at me again?! And what are you talking about?”

“Chris said you have been crying all night. I assumed…” Tom stopped. “He didn’t—”

“No, but thanks for thinking so little of me. Did you come here to tell me that?”

“No, I…” Tom stumbled over his words. “I was wrong. I should have never yelled. Especially knowing what I did. You were right, I was jealous of Chris. I still am.”

Molly tapped her foot. “Anything else? Because you could have sent all of that in a text. You didn’t need to come here. It doesn’t change anything, Tom. I.. can’t… keep…” Her voice wavered, all her hurt and emotions mixed up inside of her.

Tom swallowed hard and exhaled sharply. “I love you, Molly. I am…” He chuckled. “hopelessly in love with you. That’s why I got so jealous. I was afraid that…” Tom fidgeted. “… you would leave me.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Molly fidgeted.

“I’m an idiot.” Tom stepped forward, cupping her cheek. “I thought admitting I loved you meant losing you. Our relationship was never meant to be this. It was business. And then Chris came along and the two of you got along. I lost my mind.

“The heart wants what it wants.” Molly whispered, her hands lighting on Tom’s shoulders. “Tom, I…”

Tom pleaded. “Please come back. I need you, Molly. I will spend the rest of my life showing you, proving to you I am worthy of your love. Just please come back.” Tom pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard and crying.

“I… I… love you too.” Molly whispered, starting to sob. “And you are an absolute idiot.”

They both laughed. Tom leaned in and his lips tentatively, scared she would turn away. Molly deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck, pulling him against her. Tom walked them back until she hit the wall. Molly gasped. Tom breathed her in and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting every corner of her. He wanted to know every inch. She clung to him for dear life, tasting him as well. There was heat and passion and everything Molly wanted. She leaned back against the wall, panting.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you like this for so long.” Tom continued to kiss her, in between words, stealing her breath. “Marry me.”

Molly giggled against his lips, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m already married to you.”

Tom’s lips trailed down Molly’s neck. “Then sleep with me.” He sucked hard in the crook of her neck. “Let me make love to you, darling. I need you.” He pressed against her, desperate.

“Yes.” The only word Molly could muster in the moment.

Tom picked her up and walked her to the unmade bed and placed her down. As he tugged his shirt off, Molly scrambled with her shirt and pants, tossing them onto the floor, leaving herself in just a bra and panties.

Tom smiled and licked his lips as he yanked his belt off and pushed his pants and underwear to the floor. Molly gulped as she took in Tom naked.

“Bra and panties too.” he prodded as he crawled onto the bed. “I want to see my wife in all her beauty.”

Molly shivered at his words and her hands shook as she unhooked her bra and slipped her panties down her legs. She laid there naked.

“Glorious.” Tom purred as he settled between her legs. His mouth latched onto one of her nipples, sucking and licking. Molly arched her back and groaned.

“Fuck, yes!” She grabbed the back of Tom’s head and pulled him closer.

Tom released her nipple with a pop and moved over to the other one. His hand snaked between their bodies to find Molly’s core, teasing her clit with his thumb. She bucked against his touch.

“Tom, please. I need you.” Her hand stroked his cock, teasing the tip along her folds. “All of you.”

“Then all of me you shall have.” Tom pushed into her, groaning until he bottomed out. Molly arched into him, filled to the brim.

“Yes!” she breathed.

Tom twisted his hips as he thrusted into her with long strokes, hitting that spot inside of her. Molly bucked her hips, wanting every inch of him. Her nails dug into Tom’s back.

Tom wanted the moment to last forever. Just him and Molly and nothing else. But his release edged near, and he wanted to please Molly first.

“Are you close, darling?” Tom growled in her ear.

Molly nodded. “Yes!”

Tom drew tight circles against Molly’s clit as he sped up his thrusting. “Come for me, my love.”

Molly soon came, clenching hard around him, causing Tom to come too, spilling inside of her. He carefully rolled off to the side, and pulled Molly onto his chest, smoothing her hair back and kissing her forehead.

“That was incredible, darling. You are…”

“So are you.” she interrupted, wiggling into the crook of the body. “Tom?”

“Molly?”

“Will you do me a favor?” She drew circles in Tom’s chest hair with her nail.

“Anything.” He held his breath, waiting.

“Take me home.” Her face breaking out into a sparkling smile.

Tom pressed his lips to hers. “On one condition….” She raised an eyebrow. “You move into the master bedroom with me. I haven’t slept a wink in weeks because you aren’t there.”

Molly laughed as she nodded her head. “Deal.”

[emf005]

Anxious

Anxious

Sirius Black x Evans!reader

Warnings: a bit of angst, My terrible writing

You stared out the window of the classroom, enjoying the lovely pitter-pattering of the rain on the glass that was, much to your delight, drowning out the teacher. You had woken up with a severe headache that morning and were in no mood for classes, let alone Ancient Ruins with a ghost teacher. You had in no way, shape, or form, any need for-

“Miss. Evans.” Your head turned to the teacher who was, along with the rest of the class, staring at you. “Care to translate?” He motioned to the board which the class had begun to decode.

“Sure. ‘To everyone who wishes death in some form or another, drink from a goblet which has no master’.” He stared at you with a nearly angry face.

“That is correct.” he spoke through his gritted, transparent, teeth. “Please try and pay attention from now on.”

“Of course, sir. But, as you have just seen, I have been paying perfect attention the entire time. Please continue on with this painfully exciting lesson.” He stared at you for a moment more before gritting his teeth again and continuing on with the lesson. You turned your attention back out the window, blocking out his lesson yet again.

Lily, your twin sister, caught up to you at lunch and started to ask how classes had been going in her own cherry way that made you want to hurl. You were not the typical Evans. You were not a goody goody twinkle toes like Petunia. You were not a sweet flower like Lily, you were just you. Your family referred to you as the “Biker” which was weird because you had no interest in leather or motorcycles or teasing your hair up to atrocious heights. You had no clue why no one would let you just be, ever. You were a tired anit-social introvert who got social anxiety that resulted in you being overly sarcastic and awkward. Lily, was your opposite and was completely oblivious. Well, you couldn’t take it that day. No you most certainly could not.

“Lily! Just shut up! Please! I just lived my entire day, I don’t need to recite it to you! Christ all mighty woman!” She stared at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. She opened her mouth to say something but the only thing that came out was:

“Oh.” After a moment more she mumbled an apology and walked away glumly. You felt bad. You had never yelled at your sister before. You had never yelled at anyone before. You barely ever spoke three words unless you had to, class that day being the exception. You were just so tired of everyone being on your case.

“A bit harsh, Evans don’t you think?” You turned and stared at your tormentor. A true “Biker” in your opinion. Or, technically “Greaser”. I mean, seriously, the shine on his hair from how greasy it was was truly a feat you had no idea how he managed.

“Shove off, Black.”

“Oh,” he said dramatically. “The hurtfulness of the words! How will I ever be able to move on?” You grounded your teeth and stared at him, hating how short you were. You blew a strand of brown hair from your eyes, getting your looks from your dad and not your mom.

“I said, shove off. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh? And what's this? She knows more words than just ‘shove off, Black’?”

Sirius Black. Your tormentor since first year. You had no idea how the stupid little rivery started between the two of you, nor did you care. You hated him with all of your being, more than you hated most people.

You raised your middle finger at him and brushed past him. He scoffed.

“Best you got, Evans?” He mocked.

“Figured your hair was disgrace enough. Don’t need me to say anything to embarrass you when you got that mop on your head!” You shouted back. That got him to shut up and you scurried to the owlery to meet with Henry, you beautiful brown horned owl.

You scratched your owl’s head and he gladly rubbed his head against your palm with an affectionate and grateful hoot. You laughed lightly and sniffled, shoving the tears off of your face. You placed your head against his and took a breath in and out, composing yourself. The anxiety bubbling back down from the day’s attention.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” You froze at his voice. Had I forgotten to mention your other tormentor. Or rather, group of tormentors? “Little Evans and her stupid little owl.” Lucius said. You heard Bellatrix cackle behind you and a few more snickers. How many were there today?

“Heard you were a bit mouthy today, love.” Bella said, walking around you. She was so close you felt her breath on her neck and it caused a chill to run down your spine.

“Please leave me alone,” you whispered. Another cackel cut through the air and you jumped. Your owl screeched as a means of trying to protect you.

“Aw, Mr. Owl wants to protect his little bitch?”

“Leave him out of this!” You yelled. Getting protective of the only good thing you had ever had.

You felt a hand grab your hair and yank you backwards. You yelled as you fell back onto Lucius Malfoy.

“What did you say to me? Are you giving us orders?” You swallowed and before you could say anything, your owl lunged at Lucius and attacked.

He dropped you as a means to protect his face but the sound he let out let you know that Henry had gotten his target. Lucius had a small scratch on his face beside his eyes that had begun to bleed.

“You stupid beast!” he yanked out his wand and before you could do anything he shouted out his curse. “Petrificus Totalus!” He shouted. Your lovely brown bird dropped mid-flight and hit the floor with a thunk.

“Henry!” You yelled and began to crawl to him, only to be dragged backwards by your hair.

“Teach you and your stupid beast to mock me.” He grumbled and threw you against the wall of the tower. You felt something wet drip down your neck.

Is it raining out?

Your ears were ringing loudly.

Who's ringing bells?

And your vision was blurred and fuzzy all over.

“Get her Lucius!” Bella shouted and you felt a sharp pain in your side. You let out a noise that didn’t sound quite human, or animal for that matter. You saw your bird, his brown feathers and beautiful wings spread out and frozen in their place.

You let out another whine as he abused your body more. Where you had no idea. It all hurt at this point that it was impossible to pinpoint a designated spot.

“Hey!” Someone shouted. The abuse stopped, but your body still throbbed mercilessly. You heard footsteps and people talking, but you couldn’t make anything out. All you could focus on was how tired you had gotten and how badly your body ached.

Why was it hiring again?

“Hey.” someone said again and you felt someone gently grab your face, causing you to whine and try to pull away, but they wouldn’t let you. They just turned your face to get a different perspective. You whined and tried to pull away again.

“Prongs!” You heard them shout, making you cry out in pain. Your head spun. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re going to be f-”

“Henry.”

“What?”

“H-henry. My-my owl. Get him first. Is-is he ok?”

“Your a bit more hurt than-”

“Please.” You cried. “Please he’s my-he’s my only friend. Please get him first. Please.” He was silent for a moment and more footsteps made their way up the tower stairs. “Please… you whispered.

“Ok… ok.”

The noises coming from the owlery were not ones that should be and they were just the ones that made Sirius Black pick up his pace just slightly. Remus and James were waiting for him at the bottom. A five second trip was definitely going to take a bit longer.

He rounded the corner to find a mess of white hair focused on something on the ground. A mess of curly black hair egging him on. And three more stooges from the Slytherin house snickering in the corner watching it all happen. An owl was laid out frozen on the ground but he paid no attention to that.

“Hey!” Lucius froze and gave one more swift kick before looking over his shoulder and smirking.

“Well. If it isn’t Si-Ah!” Sirius yanked him away from whoever he was kicking and threw him towards the door. His dear cousin yelled at him but he just glared at her and the rest of them.

Lucius pulled himself off the ground and brushed off his clothes.

“Let's go. He’s not worth our time.” Lucius grumbled and scurried off. The Slytherins all glared at Sirius but left.

Sirius turned to see who it was they were bullying. The figure lying on the floor, bruised and bloodied, caused him to freeze. Y/N Evans.

He rushed to her and knelt down tilting her head so that he could get a better look at her face. Even worse than what he had originally thought. The sight caused him to cringe.

“Prongs!” He shouted. She cried out, loudly, and he froze before profusely apologizing. “You’re going to be f-”

“Henry,” she said weakly, making his insides twist. How badly had they beaten her?

“H-henry. My-my owl. Get him first. Is-is he ok?”

“Your a bit more hurt than-”

“Please.” She cried. “Please he’s my-he’s my only friend. Please get him first. Please.” Sirius stayed quiet for a moment. He swallowed and just stared at her. “Please…” she whispered desperately.

“Ok… ok.” He said. James had arrived at the stairs and ran to the two of them.

“What happened?” He asked, Remus right behind him.

“Not quite sure. Come on.” He lifted up Y/N and she groaned again.

“Henry.” Sirius sighed and shook his head.

“And bring the damn bird,” he grumbled.

You woke up in the infirmary, god only knows how long later. It was dark now, so you definitely missed lunch. It would explain why your stomach was doing flips.

Your body ached all over, inside and out. You sat up, holding a groan in as you looked around the room. Well, as much of the room as you could see. The white sheets separated your section from the other patients’.

It was completely silent in the room. Well, except for someone’s breath right next to you. You looked over to see the one, the only, Sirius Orion Black sleeping in the chair right next to you. You stared at him for a moment and opened your mouth to say something (like you would have) when you heard someone clear their throat in front of you.

You looked to the opening of your section to see Madame Pomfrey standing there with her cart. She looked you up and down before looking to Sirius.

“You have a good friend there, you know.” You stared at her, slightly confused. She walked in, pulling the cart with her. “He refused to leave until you woke up. Poor thing must have fallen asleep waiting for you.” She hesitated and looked at you very seriously. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to uphold, I trust you understand that Miss. Evans.”

“Why did he stay? What even happened? I-I don’t remember-”

“He came in here with his friends, Potter and Lupin, carrying you and an owl. The owl was easy to fix, he’s resting back in the owlery, you on the other hand were a bit of a challenge.”

“But I still-”

“You were severely beaten by one of your classmates, it appears. Mr. Black was kind enough to bring you in. I told him that you would be fine but he was quite insistent that he stayed until he knew you were better. I’m surprised he’s stayed as long as he has. On second thought-”

“How long was I out for?”

“Three days.” Your eyes went wide.

“Three-but I-how?”

“Much blunt force to your head. But you are healing nicely.” You looked over to Sirius who was slouching uncomfortably in the hard chair.

“Why did he stay?”

“As I said Miss. Evans, you have a good friend. Or are you-”

“No.” You answered, still staring at him. “No we aren’t.”

“Hm,” she hummed, checking you over. “Well, I would reevaluate the situation if I were the two of you.”

The wounds she was worried about were fine for the evening. She told you to get some rest and she would recheck you in the morning. When she left, though, you didn’t fall asleep. All you could do was stare at your tormentor and wonder why. Why was he still here? Why did he save you from Malfoy and his pack? Just why?

It was just breaking dawn when Sirius started to stir. You had been preparing yourself for what you were going to do when he woke. You were going through your options and finding a nice way to thank him and ask all your questions. But by no means were you prepared to speak with him so quickly!

His eyes opened and you stared at the stormy ones with a blank mind. It took him a minute to register that you were awake. He shot up from his chair.

“Y/N!” He was so loud it made your head spin. “Are you ok? How do you feel? What has Madame Pomfrey-”

“Why are you here?” you asked bluntly, cringing at the way it came out. He opened his mouth a few times before sinking back into his seat.

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He stuttered. You couldn’t believe it. You had never heard anything but confidence in his voice, but now? Pain? Hurt? Worry? Unsureness? This was not the Sirius Black you had grown to hate.

You swallowed and shifted under his gaze. It was heavy. So heavy. Heavier than the canoe your uncle made you carry last summer to the lake.

“I’m fine.”

Why were your words so harsh? What was wrong with you?

You watched as he slunk back into himself further.

“Well then I guess-” he stood and panic took over your body. “I’ll leave.” He cleared his throat and pushed his hair back. You stared at the mop. Less greasy than it had been. There was no shine, it was instead like the night sky. Pitch black. So black nearly blue. It was actually mesmerizing. Naturally bouncy.

He had bags under his eyes and unease in his posture.

What was wrong with you?

He waited a second for you to say something but you never did. He hung and shook his head glumly before leaving the area. All you could do was watch him go. None of your questions answered and guilt was coursing through your entire body.

You were discharged a week later. Lily brought you your school work while you were in the hospital, but never really said much else. She still must not have gotten over when you had yelled at her, which you felt terrible about.

But now, freshly out of the infirmary, you were determined to set things right with her and Sirius. Although, you had been saying that for days now.

One day you tried to apologize when she had come to give you your work. It didn’t exactly go according to plan.

“Here is transfigurations, potions, herbology, and divinations. If you have any questions or need any help-”

“Lily, I’m sorry.” She paused and looked up from her folder.

“Sorry?”

“Uh yeah.”

“Sorry for what, Y/N/N?” You swallowed.

“For snapping at you, the other day. At lunch?”

“I remember. I’m not mad at you, Y/N/N.”

“You're not?”

“Not for that.” You stopped and stared at her.

“Then for what-”

“I’m upset that I had to find out that my twin sister has anxiety from someone other than herself.”

“You-”

“Know? Yes. I know, Y/N. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Did you feel like you couldn’t? I just… I don’t understand.” You stared at her for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Your heartbeat sounded in your ears and your breathing became restricted a little.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lily just shook her head and sighed. Almost like she expected you to say nothing.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m your sister. Twin sister. Does that not mean anything to you? At all? You're supposed to be able to tell me everything. So, yeah, I’m a little hurt that I had to hear this from Sirius.”

“Sirius?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius Black?”

“No, Y/N. Sirius Dawson. Yes, Sirius Black! Why? Did you swear him to secrecy? I didn’t even know you two talked.”

“We… we don’t.” She looked at you, staring for a few minutes.

“Oh.” She stayed silent and looked down. “I… well… I’ll talk to you when you get out. At James’ game, maybe? On Sunday.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She smiled and squeezed your leg. Then she got up and left.

The first stop you made, on this particularly snowy Saturday, was to the owlery. Henry came flying over to you the second you stepped foot in the tower. He hooted and rubbed his head under your own. You giggled and scratched under his chin.

“Miss me, did you buddy?” He hooted again and you walked over to the balcony to look over the snowy scene of the Hogwarts grounds. “Look what I brought you.” You unraveled the nut and seed cake you had in your pocket and held it up to him. Henry hooted happily and started to peck away at his treat. You laughed and set him on the banister alongside the cake.

The two of you sat in silence as you stared out at the scene. Henry pecked away happily and you sat there miserable. The gears in your head spinning faster and faster as you thought more about what Lily said.

You weren’t surprised Lily didn’t know that you had anxiety. You were surprised that Sirius knew. And even more surprised to hear that he had told Lily. Why? In defense of you? You didn’t understand.

Henry hooted before flying off the edge and to someone behind you. You never saw him do that to anyone but you before. To say you were a bit jealous that he left his cake unfinished to see whoever had walked in would be an understatement. But then you turned around.

He climbed the stairs up and up to the owlery. He came at the same time every day since Y/N had gotten hurt. Henry was a very dependent and protective creature. When Sirius came the first day, he was a mess. A flurry of feathers and in such a tizzy. Since he recognized him as one of the good guys from when she got attacked, he flew immediately to his shoulder. Since then, Henry greeted Sirius each time he came to visit, each time more friendlier than the last.

Today was no different. As usual, Henry flew immediately to his shoulder and nuzzled the side of his face in greeting. Sirius chuckled and rubbed his head. He started to walk to the balcony when he noticed that today was different. Someone was standing there watching him.

You were standing there watching him.

He swallowed and the two of you stared at each other awkwardly.

“Hi.” He said when he finally found his voice again. He was so relieved to see that you were alright. You didn’t like him, he knew that. He knew why, too. He just didn’t know how to change that. The sad fact in it all was that he loved you. He had always loved you and he knew he would continue to always love you.

“H-hi.” You said, he felt his heart skip a beat. Your voice was quiet and you were fidgeting with your hands. Merlin, you were perfect.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, slowly walking over to you.

“Fine, I guess.” You answered, scratching the back of your neck. You began to fidget and Sirius could tell you were about to run. He couldn't have that. He couldn't let you leave him again. He shouldn't have left the last time, he knew that and he regretted it.

You took a step and he jumped in front of you without a plan in mind. You jumped back, startled by his sudden movement. He backed down when he noticed how he reacted and caused you to receive even further.

“Uh, sorry. I just-I want to make sure you are fine. Completely fine, and all.”

“Um… Yeah. I-I’m fine.” The silence returned as Sirius waited. He didn’t want to push you to talk, but he was a bit desperate to speak with you. He had avoided you for an agonizing week. A whole week! Well, sort of. He would often sneak into the hospital wing in the dead of night when everyone, including you, were asleep. Not like a creep like he knew it sounded, he was just worried. He always was.

From day one he had noticed your anxiety, both him and Regulus suffered from it, in different ways but still suffered from it. When he noticed your closed figure and down cast eyes first year he knew immediately that you were not ok. He had tried to be nice to you, to ease you a little bit, but nothing he did worked. It all backfired on him. And I mean all I mean ALL. Everything he would say came out wrong and every gesture he did simply made you more uncomfortable. Some time around 3rd year everything turned hostile. Your anxiety had gotten worse and instead of just shrinking away you had a tongue that was sharper than a knife. For some reason, this drew him in even more. He had no idea what had caused the switch in you, but he could tell you had become worse from when you had left Hogwarts. Ever since then, he had watch you closely, occasionally teasing you since that was the only way he could get any sort of interaction with you.

“Sirius-” He looked at you with wide eyes eager to hear what you had to say, but you stopped, leaving your mouth open. He waited. “How… How did you know about my anxiety?”

He swallowed.

“And more importantly, why did you tell Lily?” He was silent and now you waited.

“Lily was… well, she was hurt by your reaction and wouldn’t stop… um…”

“Complaining?” He hesitated but nodded. You sighed.

“I… I got tired of listening to it and snapped, I guess. She didn’t have a response.”

“You stood up for me?” He nodded. “Why?”

“Uh…”

“Why would you stand up for me against my sister and the Slytherins? Why help me to the Hospital wing and insist on staying until I wake up. Why sneak in when you think I’m sleeping?”

“You know about that?”

“Do you know how impossible it is to sleep on those beds?” you smirk. He let a crooked smile lift the corner of his mouth. “But, honestly, Sirius, why?”

“I…” He cleared his throat and itched the back of his head, looking away. Was that blush you saw on his cheeks? “I just was worried about you.”

“Why? You don’t like me.” His head shot up, eyes wide with panic which startled you.

“That's not true.”

“It-its not?”

“No.”

“But all the bullying and…”

“It's the only way I could get any sort of attention from you.” You furrowed your eyebrows, itching your hand. He could see the skin about to open, so he grabbed your hand making you jump. He placed it at your side and let go. “Listen, Y/N. I like you. I understand that you probably don’t like me. But, I had no idea how to get any sort of attention from you. I never did anything out of malice, even though it sounded like it. Honestly, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You swallowed not knowing if you should believe him or not.

“I would like it if we could be friends, Y/N. I know what you’re going through. The anxiety.. Maybe I could help you?” You bit your lip. Should you trust him? You had never trusted anyone like this before.” Please. Give me a chance to make things right.”

You nodded and he let out a breath, one he didn’t know he had been holding. He wouldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t. Not for anything in the world.

Hey guys! Hoped you liked it! Let me know in the comments. Also let me know if you want a part two!!!!