#the ginger ale….has betrayed me?

[romijuli]

I miss when I could have literally anything in my stomach without it making me force everything out

[heroloverangel]

Good Morning

Ingenium remains #1 on the list of characters who deserve more screentime.

You’ve never been a morning person, but this is ridiculous. For weeks now, you’ve woken up every day feeling nauseous beyond belief. Every meal has become a 50/50 chance of your stomach rebelling and sending you running for the nearest bathroom and you’re rapidly getting tired of it. You knew pregnancy wasn’t going to be easy, but you assumed you’d get to enjoy at least a little bit of those wacky cravings instead of gagging at the sight of most normal foods.

You stagger out of bed this morning, just like every other morning this week, into the kitchen and drop heavily into a chair at the table. Tensei’s been awake for awhile; coffee is just the latest item on the list of smells that make you queasy, and he’s been great about drinking it as far away from you as possible. “Hey,” he smiles over at you from his place at the stove and you groan back weakly. “You having another rough morning?”

You give a dismissive shrug. “I still feel like garbage, but it’s better than yesterday.”

He nods and reaches for a pan. “At least that’s something. Think you can handle some breakfast?” You weren’t hungry a minute ago, but your stomach rumbles at the suggestion and he laughs. “I take it you want your usual?”

Your usual at this point is just plain eggs with no seasoning. There aren’t many foods you’re able to reliably keep down when you wake up, but a boring plate of eggs is certainly the most convenient. You’re not unreasonable enough to demand freshly grilled salmon every morning, and you’d just feel bad sending him out for those chocolate-stuffed croissants from the cafe a few blocks away that always has a line out the door in the mornings. You’re more than happy enough with your bland scramble made with love by your adoring husband.

Or at least you would be, if your stomach didn’t choose today to betray you yet again. One moment you’re sitting peacefully at the table watching Tensei stir a spatula around the pan, and the next moment you catch the scent of the frying eggs and have to actively fight your gag reflex. Without a word you lurch out of your chair and rush for the bathroom, illness rising higher in your throat with every second. “This sucks,” you wail to him across the house between heaves; you know he’s busy with the fire hazard on the stove and only vaguely hear him yell back a sympathetic response.

After twenty minutes you pry yourself away from the anchor that is your toilet, gargle half a bottle of mouthwash, and then collapse back into your bed. Tensei reappears soon enough with a tray for you, only toast and ginger ale, and you sulk as you pick at your new breakfast while he rubs your back soothingly. “I wish I could do something to help.”

You relax into his touch and sigh. “I wish there was anything you could do. The doctor said it should pass in a couple more weeks and we’ve just got to wait it out.”

He runs a hand through your disheveled hair. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job handling this. I know it can’t be easy.”

You smile faintly and cuddle closer against him. “Oh no, it’s awful. But I’ve got the best hero in the world giving me plenty of support.”

“Best hero, huh?” His grin matches your own, and you can feel his stubble when he leans over to kiss your cheek. “If you’re already that impressed, I guess I didn’t need to call the cafe and order some of those croissants.”

You force yourself to swallow the bite of toast you just put in your mouth. “Hey now, I didn’t say that.”

You’ve always loved his laugh. “Think you can wait about thirty minutes for them?”

“That’s a big ask,” you tease and take a small sip of your ginger ale. You know it’s supposed to help with nausea, but you drink so much of it you’re starting to hate the taste. “I’m guessing your brother wouldn’t be willing to speedrun them over, huh?”

Tensei’s eyes crinkle with happiness at your joke, “You know that sense of humor is just one of the many reasons I married you.”

“Oh really? You know we’ve got thirty minutes, we’ve got time for you to tell me all the other reasons.”

You’ll be the first to admit that this morning didn’t exactly get off to a great start. Now though, as you curl up in your husband’s arms with his pipes positioned safely out of your way, your mood’s improved significantly. There’s a cool breeze coming in from the window with the morning sunshine, and you get the feeling you’ll doze off before the food arrives. You don’t mind that idea, you know your precious croissants will be waiting for you when you wake up.

You let out a yawn and blink up at him. “Love you, Ten.”

“I love you too. Go ahead and get some rest, you two need it.” His voice is soft, and the last thought you have before you fall back asleep is that no one else in the world could ever make you this happy.

[big-bad-a-detective-story]

Chapter 05

I had been giving my next clue, I knew the what, I even knew the when and where.

(The answers being, in this order: information, now, and at the bar.)

It was, upon arrival of the establishment-- casually listening to the waves behind me as I stood dumbly on the pier-- that I realized I didn’t have a ‘who’. As in ‘who I was supposed to be shaking down for clues’. The kids had been right when they mentioned Larry had a lot of friends. As much as I was loath to admit it, the guy had a voice like honey-- drip drip dripping until you were stuck in his sticky mess. That was to say: people liked him. They liked being around him.

It made everyone a suspect, and what’s worse… highly unlikely to spill anything. Either from being his pal, or being one of the one’s he was selling up the river.

I sighed, putting on my game face, and walked inside.

The Ugly Duckling continued to live up to its name: pipes sticking out from walls, what looked like years old grease stains covering the floors…. Or at least I HOPED they were grease stains. There was no way of knowing. But either way I made sure to dance around them, lest they somehow were diseased.

My destination was the counter, the hub of hubbub. The barmaid, the same ugly sister I had met before, was busy entertaining guests upon my arrival. Her smile seemed to fall some, as she didn’t seem quite as jovial as the last time.

“Oy, you again. ‘Swhat you doing around here? Wasn’t locking Larry up enough trouble?’

Ah, right. Her disdain was expected, I was speaking to the captain of his little fanclub, after all. I didn’t have time for her games, and I knew darn well our missing miss didn’t, either.

“As it turns out, in fact, he may have even worse enemies out there than the likes of me.”

This seemed to get her attention. She paused and regarded me with a raised brow.

“Yeah? How so?”

Gotcha. I slid up onto the bar seat and leaned an arm on the bar top. I made a mental note to get my coat washed at my earliest convenience.

“Have you happened to overhear anyone mention nanny nabbing a certain Ms. Maeiz?”

The barkeep actually looked concerned, not a reaction I’d have expected from someone who frequented a place like this, let alone worked there.

“Someone swiped Larry’s girl? Aw no. What about the kids, they alright?”

“Ah, yes. I have my partner-- the foxy fellow from last time-- keeping an eye on them.” I blinked away my surprise, getting back my interrogation mojo. “They’re safe, ma’am. But enough about them, it’s their mother I’m worried about. Do you know anybody who might be miffed at maws muttering mention of others’ crimes?”

The barkeep opened her mouth, obviously she was about to say something in regards to what she may or may not know… when it was one of the men at the counter who interrupted by slamming their drink. Frothy copper brew sloshed about, as the man’s temper made itself known.

“Yeah, I can think of a few, me included.” The burly man growled. “That wolf plans on stabbing my brother in the back!”

I gasped.

“He does?!” I was amazed, I knew Larry was planning on selling people out… But to go as far as order a hit? Oh, that was low!

“Yeah, metaphorically!”

“...Oh.” 

Admittedly, that made more sense. 

“Yes, well, do you know if your betrayed bitter brother is the type to justify seeking grievances against our unjust Judas?”

Boy, try saying that three times fast.

Nothing of the sort happened, however, as this caused the man to grab me by the cuff of my collar, pulling me into his face. He had a look so sharp, I swore it was giving my eyes a lashing just from looking at them!

“What, wolf, you planning on selling out my brother too?”

His breath has a sour scent of someone who couldn’t hold their ginger ale, and I scrunched my face in disgust.

“No, but might I recommend selling you some advice? Breath mints exist, pal: use ‘em.”

My words, while true as day, weren’t what this guy wanted to hear, and he let me know it. The puff of rancid breath he snorted into my face made my stomach roil.

“A smart guy, huh? A real comedian! Get lost.”

Here’s a fun fact I learned that night; wolves can fly. But only briefly. I was flying across the bar before I knew I’d been thrown, and smacking into the back of another sizable bar patron. I bounced off and landed on the floor, the new guy spinning  around to glare daggers across the room.

“Hey! Who’s throwin’ stuff!” He bellowed. A part of me, and not a part I’m proud of, was glad the guy wasn’t yelling in my general direction.

I pointed towards the direction of the man who had decided to turn me into an oversized frisby.

“Him.” I meeped, perhaps a bit too pathetically. 

But, that didn’t matter much, as that caused this Paul Bunyan of a fellow to stand, taking his chair he had been sitting on and slamming it into the floor. Wood shattered into splinters upon impact. I scurried under the table, watching this behemoth of a being prepare to swing his home crafted baton at the man who had assaulted his person.

I flinched as the joint turned into an all out brawl. Mugs were thrown, friends were picking sides as they started throwing punches with everything they had. I swallowed down my dread as a tooth bounced on the floor and rolled under the table where I laid. 

WELL, clearly this was a sign I needed to skedaddle.

Before I got thrown into the mix once more.

I was sneaking towards the side of the room, the closest door being on the same end as the bar counter. Assuming this headed towards a back exit, it seemed safer than making a mad dash towards the front door. I ran on all fours, fear truly bringing out the animal in me. I could see it, just a few strides more and I would be safe! Now all I had needed to do was stand up, stretch out my paw…

The door was slammed open violently into my snoot, as somebody came barreling through the door.

“ALRIGHT, knuckleheads! Do I need to call the cops, or what?” The voice boomed, stomping out from the shadows of the backroom. 

Stepping into the light, slamming the door behind them, I took in who it was. 3 foot 2, balding male of later years. Molting, but tried to have some sort of decency by putting on a tie. It was clear to me, even in my compromised state, just who had calmed the disturbance with his presence alone: the Ugly Duckling himself!

The Ugly Duckling eyed the mess and patrons alike, tapping his cigar as ashes fell to the floor. He must have been considering something, as he finally spoke up in that gruff voice of his.

“So, I’m only gonna ask this once. which one of you sad schmucks started this, huh?”

Imagine my surprise when the collective pointed in my direction with a thunderous cry of: “The wolf!”

By this point I had clambered back onto my feet-- looking as beat up and bruised as if I had been a part of the scuffle, no doubt. I tugged at my collar, as the duck waddled closer towards me-- scrutinizing all the while. I didn’t know why, but something about the guy caused my insides to tighten and coil-- like a rubber band about to break from the tension.

Which let me tell ya, there was plenty of it. I was sweating bullets, and the owner still hadn’t said a word!

Right when I was about to say something, ANYTHING, just to try and dissolve the anxiety… I was saved when the Ugly Duckling opened his bill to address me:

“Alright, I’ll bite.” This was said with a puff of smoke in my face, causing me to cough from the assault. “ Who are you? You’re not one of my regulars, I know THAT much.”

While I certainly wouldn’t call this guy good company, he at least didn’t seem to want to use me as a furry punching bag, which was more than I could say for the rest of the inebriated patrons. I decided to take my chances with him ... after all, who better to hound for information than the guy who probably sees more wrongdoings in a week than most do in a lifetime?

I steeled my nerves, stood up straight, refound my courage ... and my dignity.

“You may call me Wolf. ... Detective Wolf. Big Bad Wolf if you feel so inclined. But the point is, I’m here looking for answers. It appears we have a missing mother...”

I patted my pocket for the wallet, only to blanch as I realized Larry still had it. Fantastic. I’d have to do without.

“.. A um, Ms. Maeiz. I was--”

“Hey. Wolf. Shut your yap for a minute, would ya?”

I did just that, if only to give the man a disapproving frown. That had just been plain rude.

“Good job. Now follow me, this ain’t no place for that kind of chitchat.”

I didn’t really have a choice in the matter, as he turned then and disappeared back through the door from which he’d come. I gave a quick glance around and then followed behind.

We ended up in a small back room, full of organized clutter, a desk, a few chairs, ceiling fan. I made the quick assumption this must be his office. He sat behind his deck, stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, and reclined with his feet resting comfortable atop his desk. He waved a flippant hand in my general direction.

“Alright, you were sayin’?”

I blinked a few times, the guy’s behavior having completely thrown me off my game. I couldn’t seem to get a good read on what the duck was about, and this agitated me. I loomed over the desk, being sure to avoid web toes, as I continued my questioning from the top.

“Alright, Ugly Duckling, I-”

More like attempting to continue my questioning, as I was interrupted yet again!

“My name’s Carl.”

The simplicity of the response caused me to fumble.

“I, what?”

“You called me ‘Ugly Duckling’. But my name’s Carl Duckling.” At this the older duck gave a shrug. “If you’re gonna talk down t'me, I at least want you to know whose feelin’s yer hurtin’. Now go own, you were at the part where you were bein’ a jerk.”

I could feel my eye twitching. Throbbing to the same rhythm of the pulse aching near said eye. Alright, no more Mister Nice Wolf then. If they wanted Big and Bad, then that’s just who he was GOING to get! All cordiality was thrown out the window as I growled, slamming my fists onto the table.

“We don’t have TIME for any games! A mother is MISSING! And unless you want her life resting over you for the end of your days, you WILL help me!” This certainly got Carl’s attention, as the duck sat up in his seat. GOOD. “ Now, Mr. Duckling, what can you tell me about who’s mad at Larry Lemonade for throwing them under the bus? And just which persons might be proficient in pilfering his petite paramore?”

Carl sighed and hung his head, removing his feet from the desk and bending down to rummage through a drawer. For a moment I thought I was being ignored ... but then he spoke.

“Look, Mr. Wolf. There’s a golden rule amongst the type of people who frequent my bar, and it’s this: y’don’t mess with anyone badder than you are.”

I watched him carefully, hoping this was going somewhere. He sat back up and stuck a new cigar into his bill.

“Most of those guys out there?” He removed said cigar to point at the closed office door with it. “They’ll punch your lights out, no problem. Rob you blind? Absolutely. But none of ‘em are in the people-swipin’ business. Not like Larry.”

I could tell this was going SOMEWHERE, but I couldn’t see just where. I got the feeling I was gonna be here for awhile. I stepped away from the desk and slumped in the chair in front of it, instead, letting my posture and bored stare let him know I was waiting for the point.

“There’s only one guy I know crooked enough to steal a poor mother of seven, ‘least the only one Larry might have ‘thrown under the bus’, as you so eloquently put it.” 

I waited, expecting more. But when Mr. Duckling, instead, started lighting up his cigar and puffed as he gave me a pointed look… I then realized I wasn’t getting anymore without my own prodding. What was WRONG with the people around here? If they weren’t throwing punches, they weren’t finishing their thoughts! I would say I didn’t know which was worse… But being left clinging to cliffhangers clearly got top billing!

“WELL,” I prodded, trying to keep my  tone even. “Are you going to say who?”

Carl puffed his cigar, looking parts annoyed as well as disappointed. I didn’t know what HE had to be annoyed about, I was the one getting half answers!

“I did, Wolf.” He said, at this point swiveling his chair around with an air of finality. And ooooh, I was chewing fire by this point. Positively choking on my own fumes! Face no doubt red, I jumped up and threw my hat onto the floor with rage.

“No. No you did NOT. You haven’t given me ANY information. Not a lick! Nadda! Zilch! DIDDLY-SQUAT, EVEN!” I stomped on my hat, needing to take my frustrations out on something! “I don’t ask for much. I practically came at you on my knees, not something I just do, ya know! And WHAT do you tell me, hmm? You won’t give names, you just say that Larry has double-crossed some crooked man!”

It was at this point my eyes went wide as I heard what I said. Crooked… Man. CROOKED MAN! As in THE Crooked Man, known for shady dealings with smuggling, forgery, and rumors of bribing officials to look away from his building code violations. But nowhere had I heard anything about potential kidnapping charges…

I looked over at the older gentleman from across the desk, who had turned slightly in his chair. He must have been a mind reader as he scoffed, turning back away with a shake of his head.

I bent over to pick up my hat, giving it a good wave to pop some life into it before plopping it back onto my head. Sheepishly I cleared my throat.

“Yes… well. Ahem. Thank you for your help, Mr. Duckling. You’ve given me my next lead.”

I started strutting towards the door, feeling that our conversation was at an end. My hand had just reached the handle, when I heard a gruff grunt from behind.

“And Wolf,” Carl said, all amusement gone from his voice. “DON’T pull another stunt like that again.”

Something told me, as conducive as his consultation was to my case… that he meant whatever unsaid threat hung in the small space between us.  Luckily for me, I didn’t plan on getting the stuffing beat out of me anytime soon. At least not in HIS bar.

And it was with a scoff of my own that I left the Ugly Duckling-- both the bar and being alike-- to their own sleazy devices.

[jaimebluesq]

Okay, Jaime, I have my request! (I have 10, actually, but I'm leaving this one now 😆). I wrote this, but I want YOUR version bc... it's YOU sjksjsksj: Sangcheng and Nieyao living in the same house, other people (you choose who) say each couple should get their own house, but they just don't feel like living apart. They reach a point of annoyance with their friends saying this over and over that one of the four just finally goes ape and let it all out!

All right, here's my take on it - my boy didn't quite go ape-shit but he did do what he does best. I hope you like!

~~~

Nie Huaisang's belly felt full after an evening of barbecue steak and homemade macaroni salad. Most of their guests had left once the sun had set, but the most important people in his life remained behind, enjoying the night sky under strings of patio lanterns.

“My feet hurt,” he pouted, lifting a bare foot and slipping it into his live-in-boyfriend's lap. “Jiang-xiong, give me a foot rub?”

“Why do you always stick your smelly feet in my lap?” Jiang Cheng protested even as he began rubbing at Nie Huaisang's ankle.

“You like my smelly feet in your lap,” he murmured contentedly.

“Considering Da-ge was the one cooking all afternoon at the fire,” Meng Yao spoke up from his spot in a rattan chair, his hand running idly through the head of hair in his own lap, “perhaps he's the one who should be getting the foot rub.”

Nie Mingjue snorted while staying still enough to keep Meng Yao's fingers in his hair. “Does that mean you're willing to give me one later?”

“... I would be happy to pay for a full-body massage and pedicure at my favourite spa,” Meng Yao replied with his patented customer service grin.

Jiang Yanli giggled, having evidently had one too many glasses of prosecco. “A-Cheng, is that how you pay your keep? Offering foot massages?”

“I hope not,” Wei Wuxian countered. “Not unless you want him to break your legs. And they're definitely not keeping him around for his winning personality.”

Jiang Cheng grabbed a nearby cushion and threw it at Wei Wuxian's head. It would have hit had Lan Wangji's hand not grabbed it mid-air, then tucked it under Wei Wuxian's head to keep his husband comfortable.

“I'm certain everyone has their own quirks and things they bring to the home,” Lan Xichen said, ever the peacemaker.

“I still don't understand why some of you haven't moved out yet.” Jin Zixuan replaced his wife's glass of prosecco with ginger ale, hoping she wouldn't notice. “I couldn't imagine living with my family at your age.”

“For the first time in my life,” Wei Wuxian said, “I actually agree with the peacock.”

Jiang Cheng groaned. “Now you're sounding like Mom.”

“And if I'm agreeing with her, you know something is wrong,” Wei Wuxian said officiously. “Come on, you can't tell me the four of you actually like living in each others' laps all the time.”

“A-Xian, behave,” Jiang Yanli partially slurred.

“You've said it yourself!” Wei Wuxian gave her a betrayed look – perhaps he'd had a few too many drinks as well.

“Behind closed doors,” she stage-whispered.

“This is ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng grumped.

“Like, don't any of you actually want some privacy?” Wei Wuxian continued, not willing to let this one go. “I can't imagine anyone else being in our house when we pa-pa-pa."

“Your whole neighbourhood hears whenever you pa-pa-pa,” Jiang Cheng countered.

Lan Wangji's lips turned up just the slightest at the corners.

Nie Huaisang lifted his glass of wildberry cooler, using it to point at his friend. “That is why we invested in excellent soundproofing, Wei-xiong.”

“And why I make them live in the basement,” Nie Mingjue continued.

“It's nice and cool in the summer, too,” Nie Huaisang grinned. “And I don't get woken up by the sun.”

Jin Zixuan wrinkled his nose. “It still sounds crowded. What benefit is there?”

“Well,” Meng Yao offered, “whenever A-Jue and I have car trouble, Jiang Cheng takes care of that for us.”

“Meng Yao handles all of our expenses,” Jiang Cheng explained, “and our taxes.”

“And makes sure we get to appointments on time,” Nie Huaisang added. “And Da-ge cooks and does all the house repairs.”

Wei Wuxian finished his glass of beer in time to begin laughing. “And what about you, Nie-xiong? What the hell do you bring to this arrangement?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Nie Huaisang countered. “I force everyone to relax and take it easy before they have an aneurysm from working themselves sick.”

Wei Wuxian looked about to laugh even more, but stopped when Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao, and Jiang Cheng all nodded in agreement.

“I still think the arrangement is ridiculous,” Jin Zixuan muttered.

Meng Yao let out a loud sigh and placed his glass of merlot on a nearby table. The moment the glass hit the metal, Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang all lifted their heads to look at him.

“I can understand your confusion, brother dearest,” Meng Yao began, a deceptively calm look on his face, “considering your own in-laws want to murder you in your sleep. Have you ever had a good night's sleep while visiting the Jiang home?”

Jin Zixuan shut his mouth with a snap and Wei Wuxian began snorting.

“And as for you, Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao continued, “are you actually confused and concerned about our living situation, or is it that you simply can't think of an inoffensive way to ask if our sleeping arrangements switch up from time to time? That is what you've been tempted to ask, is it not?”

Wei Wuxian's eyes opened wide and he looked from Jiang Yanli to Lan Wangji, both of whom shook their heads as if to say I didn't tell him.

“So,” Meng Yao concluded, “ are we really going to ruin a lovely evening with this kind of nonsense? If so, I might need to ask some people to leave. Otherwise... would anyone like some cake?”

“I would,” Lan Xichen replied quickly. “Perhaps I could help.”

Meng Yao nodded and stood up, receiving a final loving look from Nie Mingjue before he led Lan Xichen to the kitchen. Together they collected the cake from the fridge and a handful of plates and forks. “You were rather silent during the discussion, Xichen-ge.”

Lan Xichen shrugged. “I believe I'm the only one with the opposite point of view.”

“How so?”

“You know I appreciate living alone, having my own space and nobody making demands upon my time,” Lan Xichen began. “But I will admit to feeling lonely from time to time. I admire how the four of you have made things work. You're all quite different in your own ways, but somehow you compliment each other. We should all be so happy.”

Meng Yao smiled and tried to ignore the choked up feeling in his chest. It was times like these he remembered just how much he appreciated having a friend like Lan Xichen. He opened his mouth to make some sort of reply-

“-It was just a joke!!!” Wei Wuxian shouted.

“Wei Wuxian!!! I'm going to break your fucking legs!!!” Jiang Cheng roared.

“Why don't we settle this the old fashioned way,” Nie Huaisang piped up. “I'll get the kiddie pool and the baby oil and you two take your shirts off-”

“Not in my back yard!” Nie Mingjue shouted.

“He didn't mean you, A-Li,” Jin Zixuan hissed. “Please put your shirt back down.”

Meng Yao traded a look with Lan Xichen and they both had a good laugh. When they returned to the back yard, it was in complete chaos, but Meng Yao couldn't deny that he loved everyone there, and that despite their various attitudes and biases and combative personalities... he wouldn't have them any other way.

“Though I will say,” Lan Xichen whispered into Meng Yao's ear, “I have wondered the same thing as Wei Wuxian. On occasion.”

Meng Yao shot him a glare. Lan Xichen simply smiled apologetically and carried the cake out onto the backyard's picnic table.

[jamespotterthefirst]

Morning Sickness (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart, beyond Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 400 Warning: None Prompt: Thank you, Anon! 

Premise: She has to stay home from work. Doctor’s orders.

“Yes, boss?”

The peculiar greeting doesn't even faze her anymore.

“Ethan's holding me hostage.”

There is a small pause, then Tobias's characteristic laughter rings out from the other end of the line.

“I told you not to marry him, Allende.”

Strong hands gently pry the cell phone away. Then Ethan's deep (and unamused) voice replaces hers.

“My wife is sick. Can you take over her meetings?”

“Not a problem,” Tobias returns, jaunty as ever. “I got it covered, like old times.”

“On second thought,” Ethan says, ignoring his wife's glare. “I can see why Lilac is worried and insists on going in this badly.”

Tobias makes a show of acting offended, commenting on Ethan's less than stellar comedic skills. He encourages Ethan to take pointers from him before sending the missus well wishes. When they hang up, Lilac greets her husband with a rather meek scowl.

“There's no need to stay home. I feel absolutely fi—”

The sentence is interrupted by an earthquake. 

At least, that's what it feels like as the world trembles around her, sending her stomach into chaos. Ethan's strong hands steady her, gently pushing back against the couch's backrest.

“Rest, love.”

Lilac opens her mouth to argue but Ethan strokes his thumb across her cheek.

“Doctor's orders.”

Despite the nasty bout of morning sickness, Lilac smirks wickedly at him.

“Bossing me around is what landed us in this situation,” she comments, rubbing her tiny baby bump.

Much to her delight, her husband matches her playfulness with practiced ease. “I seem to recall it was something you demanded of me.”

“You were far too eager to obey, mi vida.”

The words dwindle down to a weak mumble and she snuggles deeper into the mountain of pillows her husband arranged on the couch for her. Ethan, meanwhile, strides around their apartment, gathering things for her comfort: ginger ale, B6 vitamins, her favorite neck pillow. He moves with the efficacy of a doctor, but when he sits by her side minutes later, he holds her hand with the tenderness of a husband. His other hand falls on her stomach with the wonder and devotion of a soon-to-be father.

“You're staying home, too? What about that proposal you have to finish this week?”

Ethan leans in to kiss his wife's forehead then the top of her stomach.

“You come first.”

Lilac snorts and Ethan rolls his eyes, though a smile betrays him. 

“We’re going to make excellent parents.”

Ethan begins massaging her shoulders. 

“We have roughly six months to get our act together.”

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading this. I needed to write some senseless fluff because I was too depressed from writing the next chapter of YBF

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Concussion- Prompt Fill

Jon falls out of a Kayak

CW nausea, concussion, hospital mention

Thanks for reading! I am still accepting bingo prompts (Bing card by the wonderful @celosiaa​)! Tell me a character and which prompt, and let me know if you want art or writing! The starred prompts are ones I already have received, and probably have outlined! (I am much faster at art just fyi).  Sorry this one took so long, I wrote it a week ago and hated it! 

Jon doesn’t like the outdoors.  In his experience it’s loud or wet or sandy or bright or crowded or filled with bugs or hot or spider ridden or just generally uncomfortable.  

But that doesn't matter, because he needs to prove that things are alright with Tim.  He has finally earned enough trust or goodwill or something to be invited on a kayaking trip.  

Even back when things were good, Jon rarely got invited along to these things.  Tim knows Jon isn't the outdoorsy sort, but occasionally invites him so he doesn't feel excluded.  

A traitorous part of Jon thinks that he was only invited as a joke.  But more of Jon doesn't care if that is true.  He earned that invitation, and it doesn't matter that he is baking in the heat or that driving to the lake made him carsick or that he already has 30 mosquito bites and counting.  He.  Does.  Not.  Care.  

It doesn't matter because he is here with Tim.  And Tim is having a good time.  

They paddle around the secluded lake for a couple hours.  Jon almost has fun.  He isn't having a bad time.  Tim has been cracking jokes, and Jon is having something adjacent to fun.  Not to mention... it just feels damn good to be included.  Usually it's Tim and Sasha, or on occasion Tim and Martin.  Not that this is the first time since... everything that Tim and Jon have been alone together... it's just.... Kayaking is important to Tim.  And Jon rarely merits such a heartfelt invitation.  And even if it isn't really his scene.  It's worth the itchiness, and sore muscles, and carsickness and oppressive heat.  It is all worth it.  

Jon doesn't really know how he ends up in the water.  One minute he is breathing hard, his back and shoulders burning after all that paddling, trying to convince himself that he probably doesn't need his inhaler (that he left in the car in any case), the next... he is in the water.  Life vest dragging him towards the surface... or where the surface would be if the kayak wasn't in the way.  

He cracks his head on textured, blue plastic, and it doesn't even have time to hurt before Tim is hauling him out of the lake.  

He can't say it really hurts.  Just the surprise, and  the moment of timelessness and involuntary tears when something smacks a person from nowhere.  The brief moment of everything being a little too sharp and a little too blurry all at once.  

He coughs as he breaks the surface and Tim's strong arms lift him back into the kayak as if he weighs nothing (which... Martin would say is the case).  It's probably the firefighter training.  

Water is streaming off him, and there is some sort of weed tangled in his hair.  

"Boss, you alright, there?" Tim clapping him on the shoulder, almost knocking him out of the kayak again.  (Jon isn't sure if the fact that it is a two seater is better or worse).  "Whoa there!"

Tim is steading him again.  He's honestly feeling a little dizzy and a little distant.  But that's probably just the surprise, right?  Probably.  

"Not your boss," he grumbles, trying his best to scowl despite how Bright everything is, and how he really is very very damp and how maybe jeans weren't his smartest move today.  He lets that hang for a beat.  "...Thanks Tim."  

He offers a tiny smile, trying not to shrink in on himself, like he did... back then.  

"Fine, you alright, buddy?  What even happened?"

Jon shrugs.  "I'm in one piece, I think."  

Tim fishes in the water for Jon's dropped paddle.  "Maybe it's time we head back, wouldn't want that to happen again.  I need you in top form if you wanna come out again with me!"  

His head is starting to hurt.  

Jon flushes slightly.  "I'd... really like that, Tim."

Tim hands him back the paddle and they head back towards shore, and the car, and their respective domesticities.  

The headache isn't exactly gone by the evening, but it isn't bad.  Not worth telling Martin about, although he couldn't escape Tim telling Martin how he fell out of the kayak, and having Tim show Martin the pictures of one very damp and disgruntled Jonathan Sims dripping in the kayak, and Jon in Tim's spare workout clothes in the car.  And Jon looking faintly ill with ginger ale clutched tightly with eyes closed on the way back.  And of course the selfie with Tim giving him a sloppy cheek smooch while Jon wears a truly terrible hat that he has no idea why Tim owns.  

Tim stays for dinner.  

By the time that Jon wakes up, Martin has already left for work.  

His head hurts.  Not migraine bad, but he makes a mental note to tuck some excedrin into his bag just in case.  Best to be prepared for these things.  

He drags himself upright with a groan, trying to ignore the way that the room tilts for a few moments as he gets up.  

School.  

Right.  

He's got work today.  And as long as Martin isn't there to be disappointed in his decision making, a headache is not going to stop him.  

It's too bright outside, and Jon isn’t hungry for breakfast.  Tea counts as breakfast, right?  That's good enough.  There's milk and sugar in there... that has to have enough calories to count for something, right?  It's fine.  

Halfway through class, Jon has to sit down.  Abruptly.  His lecture trailing off into a dizzy silence.  

The headache has become too distracting, the tilting of the room around him making it hard to stay tethered to the Earth's gravity.  He presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids, trying to stop the listing of the room.  

He hears a student calling his name, but he can't make himself parse out who.  And the Eye doesn't seem inclined to tell him.  

Which is probably for the best, because he is beginning to wonder if he can take much more headache.  

He doesn't know how long he's been down, but Martin is there now.  

Fluttering hands, checking him for a temperature, coaxing him to look up, shielding him from the fluorescent lighting.  

Jon leans into the cool of his hand.  

Martin's hands in his hair, smoothing away the bedhead, Jon forgot about before leaving the house.  Jon making an embarrassing sound as he relaxes into the touch.  

Until Martin reaches the crown of his head, and Jon hisses in pain.  

Martin has been talking to him the whole time, but the ringing in his ears has been too distracting to make out words until now.  "Jon?  Love, did you hit your head?  Can you look at me?  Tim said you fell yesterday, did you hit your head?"

Jon struggles against the painful light to meet Martin's gaze.  

Martin is shining a pen light in his eyes.  

Jon tries not to feel betrayed.  But the light Hurts.  And he just wants to go back to bed, and be held, or maybe have Martin bring him an ice pack, and he's starting to feel sick as well as dizzy.  

"Jon-love, we should get you to a hospital.  I need to get you actually looked at."  

Jon whines in complaint, but doesn't have the energy to argue as Martin guides him up, folding against Martin's chest, when his legs try to give with the pins and needles of inactivity.  

He doesn't want to go to the hospital.  It's bright and he is very tired.  And he feels so guilty that someone... probably one of his students called Martin in when Martin had likely just gotten off his shift and should be at home and sleeping and not scraping Jon's ass off the floor again.  

It hadn't been this bad earlier!  He's fine!  Really!  

"Jon-love, why didn't you say something?"

And Jon tries not to cry.  "I was fine... didn't hurt then."  

Martin tuts over him and holds him close.  

The hospital is just as bad as he fears, and he's pretty sure he guilty cried on Martin at least once, and possibly also took a nap in the waiting room, but when it's over, Martin shoos Jon into a waiting cab, and trundles them both home.  

Jon is dozing on the couch, because Martin is making dinner and he can't bear the thought of being farther away than one room over, and Jon has never been comfortable about the idea of eating in bed.  Breakfast in bed (Or dinner in this case) sounds good in theory, it just sounds messy and awkward in practice.  His phone has been confiscated after he sent a brief email to his students.  Martin wasn't happy that he already was ignoring the don't look at screens and don't think too much instructions.  

That will be an argument for tomorrow, and the next day until they eventually reach a compromise.  One Jon knows Martin won't be happy about, and one Jon will feel the bite of guilt over, but his students need him, and it really isn't a bad concussion.  He might let Martin fuss over him a little more than normal, but only until the extra work catches up with Martin.  Then it will be Jon's turn to look after him.  

“Jon, Tim just texted.  He says he’s sorry he didn’t know you were hurt, and that you don’t have to go with him again.”

Jon wants to cry again.  He breathes as deeply as he can, trying to draw courage into his lungs.  “Could you… tell him I Want to go?  I promise this won’t happen again?  I… had fun… and I want to go kayaking with him.”  

Martin enters the room with his phone in one hand, and a spatula in the other.  He kisses Jon’s forehead softly, and starts to type one-handed.   

“And please tell him to not feel badly?  I didn’t really notice until …well until you got called.  It was just a headache until then.  Not even a bad one.”

“Of course love, just tell me if it gets worse, alright?”

Jon hmms in agreement.  

[thewrittingworldofeva]

"God or Gods, does it matter?" PART.9

MASTERLIST

Base of the story:

“York is envied by the vikings and during the battle Ivar sees a Saxon girl fight with one of his warriors. The protagonist has a brother with the same disease as Ivar.”

N/A: Well, I have nothing to say... I am still surprise that I finish the part nine that fast, so I am happy ! ☺️ Hope you enjoy it ! 💕

The night as come, Ligeia did make everything possible to be as far as possible from Ivar or even King Harald. She doesn't trust him, and it seems that Ivar either doesn’t trust the King. The moon high in the sky, glowing on them, Ligeia carefully walks to the prison where Bishop Heahmund is detained, without being seen. There are no guards. Probably they were at the feast. The key was hanging on a hook next to the door, she took it and quietly entered the cell.

“Lord, deliver me in thy righteousness, and cause me to escape.” He kneeled, making his chains clanging. “Incline thine ear unto me and save me. Deliver me, O Lord, out of the hands of the wicked, out of the hands of the unrighteous and cruel man.” He joins his hands together in a prayer position. “For thou art... For thou art... For thou art my hope, O Lord.” He traces his face with his indexes, and lets them rest on his thighs.

Silence fills the room. Ligeia, who was hiding in the dark, stepped out in the light and clapped her hands. Heahmund raised his head, without showing his surprise to see her, alone.

“Well, well… You are pretty convincing, I almost felt pity for you. I was that close...” she says showing a little space between her thumb and her index. “...That close! To believe you!” exaggerate Ligeia. “What are you doing here?” He simply questioned. “I needed to know something.” she said leaning against the wall. “And what do you want to know?” he added. “I want to know what decision you are going to take.” she acknowledged. “Ivar the boneless and you, are difficult to…” she hesitates to what word she is going to use. “Read.”

“Why do you want to know the decision I will take ?” She looks away, playing with her hands. “If you choose to fight for him, you will be untouchable. Which, means that I can't take revenge on my family.”

For the second time the silence takes place. They just scan each other, trying to find their deepest and darkest secret. But the only thing that Heahmund it’s the crack sadness. She looks strong but she is broken inside. He broke her. Seeing the sadness taking his eyes, Ligeia ends the eye contact, breathes sharply and proceeds to leave the place furious. Furious against her, that she let him see her weakness.

When she arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, she took a deep breath, realizing that she was holding it all her way up here. She puts her hands on her face, breathing slowly, trying to calm her heartbeat. Her siblings don't need to know that she is struggling with the presence of the Bishop. They don’t know what happened that night, and who did it and why. And she thinks this is better that they don’t know the full story.

Ligeia pushes the door and enters the room crowded with people eating, drinking, laughing, and dancing. After just putting a foot in the room, Hvitserk stands up quite a bit drunk. “To the overthrow of the witch, Lagertha, and to the liberation of Kattegat!” All are cheering his words. “Skol!”

Astrid smiles immediately when she sees Ligeia and signs her to come next to her. When she sits down, the Queen serves her a drink. Rosalia instantly climbs on her laps. Ligeia kisses her on her rosy cheek and passes an arm around Apollo and also gives him a kiss. Holding them in her arms, she smiles looking at them. When they are all together she feels whole. Ivar looked at her speaking with Astrid over his glass of ale.

Her smile captivated him. She never smiles like this, since when they kidnapped them. A real true smile, that makes your eyes closed, raises your cheekbone and shows your teeth. He looked away and talked to Harald.

“So, when do we attack?” announced Ivar. “I will summon my jarls. And my ships still need to be repaired and made ready, as do yours. But when all this is done, we should have a fleet of at least ships.” wisely advised Harald. “There's a full moon tonight. Let us say that we will attack in two moons' time.” proposed Ivar. “I agree.” accept the King. “Skol.” cheers Ivar bringing his glass close to Harald’s. “Skol.”

Ivar, Harald and Astrid toast to this and take a sip. Harald leans closer to his wife, smiling. “It will be strange for you to return to Kattegat as a queen. Skol.” Ivar looked at the royal couple, the same as Ligeia, waiting for her reaction. She doesn’t answer, she just gives him a small smile and makes their cups clinking. “And here's to our sacred agreement.” he continued standing up getting everyone's attention. “Which if any man breaks, he will deserve to die. Skol!” Harald looks straight to Ivar pronouncing the sacred agreement. Ligeia looked at Ivar who didn't show anything, just looking back at the King. “Skol!” cheered the whole crowd. Harald starts singing and everyone knowing the lyrics follows. “♪ My mother told me ♪ ♪ Someday I would buy ♪ ♪ Galley with good oars sail to distant shores ♪”

Ligeia can feel tension between the King and Ivar, they seem to have been betrayed or betrayed. Which is not good at all. Ligeia sighs and decides that tonight she is enjoying herself and the moment with her siblings. Cheeks turning red because of alcohol. Alone, she is watching her brother talking with a young lady and at the same time she is keeping an eye on Rosalia who was dancing and giggling with Hvitserk. She looked at him and beamed proudly, seeing he isn’t aware of his charms.

Someone takes place next to her, but she doesn't care about keeping her eyes on Apollo and Rosalia. “If it’s to know if I participate in your war, the answer is still the same.” began Ligeia, sipping her cup. “Why not?” droned Ivar, tired of hearing her say the same thing. “First off, it is not my business. Secondly, I only fight for my family. And lastly, how am I supposed to protect my family on the battlefield, miles away from them?” spoke the Golden eyes lady finally looking at him. Ivar seems to be at a loss of word.

Ligeia brings back her attention to Apollo. The ginger head girl, lean closer to him and whisper something in his ear, making him blush lightly. She cracked a smile, the vision, lowering her head. Ivar, not having let go of his gaze, didn’t miss her smile. “It seems you know the Bishop?” he threw, waiting for her reaction behind his cup. “I wish I didn’t him…” she whispered more to herself. “How did you know him?” He interrogates her.

“He killed our parents.” She confesses without thinking twice. The viking wasn’t expecting this news. He was just sitting here, looking at her, not knowing what her next move will be. She stands up facing him. “Don’t worry, if he accepts your offer, nothing will happen to him.” she concludes before down in one of her drinks, sets down the cup on the table and leaves him alone.

tags : @youbloodymadgenius @al-lwiisa @funmadnessandbadassvikings @akaward-potato @otakufrenchfries @hugopowell @heavenly1927

[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

Anyone can betray anyone

Synopsis: While Ivar is away, Vanya does everything to keep her mind off his possible death, meanwhile Aslaug faces an enemy from the past.

Warnings: fluff? (Aslaug + Vanya), betrayal, character death, angst, slight anti-Lagertha (she deserved it), talk or revenge

Tags: @shannygoatgruff @queenbeeta @lol-haha-joke​ @xbellaxcarolinax @youbloodymadgenius @chynagirl13 @didiintheblog @astridbaby @heavenly1927 @thereareendlessopportunities

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it. If you want to be tagged please write me<3 

It was the middle of the night as they sat in a circle; some of the women were familiar, others weren't, but they all shared the same goal. They all prayed for their families to return from raiding alive and well. No matter if they went to the Mediterranean with Bjorn and Hvitserk or to England with Ragnar and Ivar, the women of the family prayed to the gods.

Hoenir sacrificed a goat and smeared the blood over their faces as they prayed to Thor for strength. Ever since the Ragnarssons left, Aslaug has been distant, and Vanya feared the Queen felt Ivar die.

And so distracted herself from these thoughts by spending time with the common folk. Prayer circles, visits to the orphanage, or just strolls through the marker, Vanya was always surrounded by people. But inside, she felt hollow just like the rest of them, Aros being her only source of joy.  

Ubbe joked that the babe would be able to walk by the time Ivar came back, as he's very eager to stand. Of course, he can't do it independently, but he has no problem holding himself up if you hold him. And Vanya was very proud of that.

Right now, the Ivarsson is with his grandmother, who asked to look after him for a little bit. The request was sudden, but Vanya was very happy that the Queen was feeling a bit better.

"Are you alright, Princess Vanya?" questioned an old woman, she had gray hair and looked worn down, but she came to every prayer circle. Her two grandsons left with Bjorn, and her son joined Ragnar.

"Of course, a little bit dizzy from the sigh of blood. But I am alright." The woman didn't believe her at all and put her withered hand on top of Vanya's.

"The gods aren't always just, but they listen to the prayers and act on them if they are pleased. You have pleased the gods since the ships left; you should rest a little bit too. Or you will wear yourself thin."

Vanya chuckled and shook her head at the answer. "I will be fine. The gods will hear our prayer and help us. Everything will be alright."

Not so far away from Vanya's place of blissful denial, Lagertha was hatching plans. "I am taking Kattegat back. Aslaug isn't fit to be Queen."

"What about Ragnar's sons?" Astrid asked her lover, curious about what will become of the boys.

"Born of a witch." The shieldmaiden replied simply, stroking her own like a conversation about the weather and not about usurping a Queen.

"They are still his sons."

Lagertha looked at Astrid with solemn eyes and stood up from her seat. "Bjorn, Hvitserk, and Ivar are all gone."

"But Ubbe and Sigurd remain. Are you going to kill them too?"

Luckily for them, Torvi had the perfect solution in the form of Margrethe. But one thing remained unclear to Astrid. "What of Vanya? What will happen to her?"

"We can't hurt her. She is the sole heir to a kingdom in England. If she dies as well, they will sail to our shores and demand vengeance." Lagertha's words held a tone of anger in them. They tried to pull the Princess to their side on the feast, but her mind was too warped by Aslaug's witchy ways. Just like Ragnar's had been.

"She will remain where she is, we just have to make sure she won't interfere, and no harm comes to her or Aros," Torvi suggested looking at her mother in law for approval. When Lagertha asked for an explanation, the younger blonde was happy to provide. "For leverage against Ivar."

Margrethe nodded at this and looked at Lagertha unsurely. "When Vanya went missing, he lost his mind. If she and the babe are safe, he won't be so angry. She calms him sometimes."

"Then it's decided. Now, enough questions. I have to talk to Torvi."

Vanya entered the Queen's chambers to retrieve Aros right after the prayer circle. When she saw Aslaug sitting on her bed, holding her grandson close with sad eyes, she didn't know what to say. "I always wanted a daughter. I am thankful for all of my sons, and love them very much. But sometimes I wondered what it would be like to have a daughter."

Vanya walked closer to the bed, sitting down next to Aslaug to watch Aros sleep. He looked just like Ivar when he slept, serene and innocent with a little frown and scrunched up nose. At least he slept easier than before.

"When the marriage offer came in, and it said they choose Ivar, I was worried. I wanted him to find somebody worthy of him, who would love him just as much as I do. And then this little scared Christian came in, and I was so angry that he would have to marry her. But she showed her true colors little by little. Suddenly there wasn't a scared girl who would bring his boredom and misery. The Princess didn't judge him and even grew to love him over time."

Vanya smiled at the Queen's kind words; no matter how much it hurt to remember Ivar and his possible fate, it warmed her heart to hear about him nonetheless. "I gained a daughter thanks to a monster from another place far from here. A daughter I grew to love even more when she gave me a grandson. Even if I lost a son, I gained two more people to care for. And I am very thankful for that."

She looked up to show her tearstained face and laid her palm against Vanya's equally teary face. "I want you to know that you are a part of this family, blood or not. You are my daughter, and Aros is my grandson. And nothing can or ever will change that."

"Why are you saying all this?"

Aslaug smiled and hugged her close, hiding her face in Vanya's neck.  If it weren't for the closeness, she wouldn't be able to have heard the Queen's next words. "I thought it needed to be said. We never know when we might draw our last breath. Ubbe and Sigurd went on a visit, and you are the only family that remains here. We should stick together."

Vanya nodded and hugged the woman tighter. "Of course. Do you want me to stay the night?"

"I would love that."

Hoenir walked the path around the village with a horn of ale in one hand, his other resting on his new sword. His morning walk towards Ivar's and Vanya's hut was always pleasant. Usually, he took a walk around town first, but today something felt off. So he chose to go straight to their home.

The atmosphere around him made Hoenir uneasy and on edge. He felt like prey in the lion's den, just waiting to be swallowed by the bigger animal lurking around the corner. His visions have been horrifying for some time now, and he couldn't make sense of them.

Yesterday he came with his worries to Aslaug waiting for an explanation, but the Völva told him not to worry. The Seer wasn't of any help either, and so he was left to solve it on his own.

The visions of blood and carnage weren't anything new to him. Destruction was where he was, or better said, he followed it. The Gods sent him where blood was shed, and he did what they asked. In some places, he helped the sick; in others, he slaughtered enemies. Here, he protected a Princess.

Not his most admirable work, but the easiest so far. Looking after Vanya was a challenge, and unfortunately, he was more used to a routine. The ginger preferred to vary her tasks between charity, sewing, or visiting Helga and Floki. She liked to do things spontaneously, and he had to follow. So he implemented routines where he could, morning walks at dawn, a tavern in the evening, training before bed.

But these visions were foreign to him; never before did he dream of owls on thrones or burning ships. He tried every approach to deciphering the pieces he had, but the meaning was still unclear.

He entered Vanya's hut without knocking; without Ivar home, the chances of his seeing something he wouldn't want to see are slim. But the house was empty, and the fireplace was cold. "Fuck."

He runs out of the hut, making his way to the Great Hall, but the snapping of a twig startles him. "Who’s there? I don't have time for games, so show yourself."

Eight women with shields and swords walked out from behind the huts, glaring at him as if he offended them. The shields were painted with the colors of Lagertha's Earldom. "I would say I am shocked, but that would be a lie."

The women charged at him as he drew both of his swords, fighting them off. He cut through two easily, but an arrow flew from somewhere, hitting him in the shoulder. The remaining six women used the opportunity to disarm him, another well-aimed arrow to his knee, putting him to his knees.

Hoenir looked up to the rooftop from where the arrow came from to see a blonde woman standing there, notching another arrow. "Torvi." A shield hit him over the head right after he felt a pain in his tight and a hit to his jaw. And then everything went black, he collapsed into the mud.

Aros whined in Vanya's arms as Aslaug got dressed for her meeting with the Usurper Lagertha. The woman invaded Kattegat to become Queen, and Vanya would rather they escape than face the shieldmaiden that could kill Aslaug in the blink of an eye.

But Aslaug was determined to face her husband's first wife; she could see it in her stance and eyes. This made Vanya wonder if yesterday's sentiment was because of today's situation. Aslaug turned to Vanya with the sword of Kings in her hands and walked towards the shaken ginger.

She pulled Vanya to her, a hand on the back of her head, and leaned closer to her ear. "Be brave, Vanya. If you let them see fear, you let them win. Be invincible." With that, Aslaug pulled away and kissed her forehead, leaving the Great Hall surrounded by warriors with Vanya and Aros in the rear. Hoenir was gods know where, which made her worry for his safety.

Maybe he was fighting outside, and they will arrive to see Lagertha's corpse in the middle of the street. With unsure steps, Vanya walked behind the confident Queen, praying for everything to end soon. They stayed behind as Aslaug walked through the cheering crowd to the blond shieldmaiden.

The sight behind Lagertha made Vanya's breath hitch. Some shieldmaiden's had Hoenir captured, his face bloody and body impaled by three arrows.He was breathing heavily, kneeling in the dirt with a pool of blood under him. Tears gathered in her eyes when she saw him; he looked half dead.

They pulled the hood of his head to show Aslaug what happened to one of her best fighters. But to their surprise, Aslaug stood her ground, looking at the seasoned shieldmaiden before her.

"How strange Lagertha, that you would play the usurper. One woman against another. It doesn't quite fit with your reputation."

"I was never the usurper. Always the usurped." She put her sword away, watching the other Queen with determined eyes. "You took my husband, my world, and my happiness. The fact that you are a woman is neither here nor there."

"I didn't take your husband. He chose to be with me."

"He didn't choose. You're a witch. You bewitched him." Even from afar, Lagertha's serious face and tone made Vanya take a double-take. What's more believable, that the Völva used magic to make Ragnar sleep with her, or that he cheated because he met a pretty girl far away from his wife? Honestly, Ragnar didn't strike Vanya as a man who would fall for magic. The pretty girl was more believable.

Even Aslaug couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity of the claim. "If that's what you want to believe, it's up to you. I don't disagree women can have power over men. But it's not always magical, is it, Lagertha? In any case," Aslaug looked around the crowd and raised her voice so they could all hear her next words. "Ragnar is dead."

The crowd gasped and talked among themselves in a mix of confusion, shock, and disbelief. "You don't know that." Lagertha accused Aslaug, not wanting to face the possibility he was actually gone.

"I dreamed it. I warned him about his journey. In my dream, his boats were sunk in a storm. Ragnar died." The Queens face saddened, and Aros whined in Vanya's arms. "So did my son, Ivar."

"But you don't know that." The desperation on Lagertha's side was obvious. Aslaug averted her gaze as if she was thinking before looking back up at her with a tilted head.

"No. I don't know that for sure. It was just a dream." The people whispered while Lagertha glared at the woman who taunted her in a dire situation. Hoenir looked towards the direction where the crying of a baby came from to see Vanya. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but Torvi dug her nails into his shoulder wound, silencing him.

Lagertha's eyes were tearful, and her voice honest as she steered back to the topic at hand. "And I have dreamed of taking back my home. I have dreamed it for a long time. But if I have to fight for it, then I will."

Aslaug smirked in amusement. "Don't worry. I could never fight you, Lagertha. I am not my mother, nor yet my father. I would never win." She threw the sword of Kings to the ground, raising up the murmurs once again. "But still, I have fulfilled my destiny. The gods foretold Ragnar would have many sons. And I have given him those sons. I am as much a part of his saga, Lagertha, as you are. But now I renounce everything."

The crowd kept getting louder as Aslaug continued her jabs at the usurper, finding the whole ordeal amusing in a sense. After all, when Ivar was born, they seemed to have made up, only for Lagertha to change her mind seventeen years later.

"All I ask is safe passage. All I ask is that you let me, my daughter Vanya and my grandson leave here in peace, to go wherever the gods decide. And you shall have back your hearth and home..." Aaslaug preened at the shocked shieldmaiden. "With my blessing. And my sons, when they hear how it was done, will be grateful for the manner of it... And not seek revenge."

Lagertha nodded at the reminder of Aslaug's three living sons. "I understand." She moved out of Aslaug's way, Vanya running up behind her so they could leave together. Aslaug motioned for the ginger to walk in front of her, thanking the new Queen of Kattegat.

The two women and babe walked forward bravely; heads held high. A swissing sound and Aslsaug stopping made Vanya halt as well. She turned around to see Aslaug collapse to her knees with a smile on her face, Lagertha standing behind her with a bow in her hand.

"NO!" Vanya run towards her mother in law, catching her in her arms, Aros crying hysterically in his sling. She pulled the Queen tighter to her, laying her head against her shoulder as she tried to put pressure on the wound in her back. "No, no, no. You can't die, you can't die."

But she could feel the lack of heartbeat and the sticky blood on her hand, the dead weight of her mother figure a painful truth. "No." Vanya sobbed into her shoulder, raising her eyes to meet Lagetha's, the satisfaction in the blue eyes the last nail in her coffin.

She watched the blonde with disgust and hate in her eyes, wishing she would burst into flames on the spot, giving her the most painful death imaginable. "You..." She spat the words out, tears streaming down her face, failing to hold up the corpse any longer.

Carefully she laid her down on the ground, guards running up to her to haul her away from the body. Vanya struggled against them, screaming her throat raw, just like her son against her chest. But it was no use as they dragged her away, Aslaug laying on the cold ground, alone.

Vanya did as Aslaug ordered her to do; she hid her fear and resentment under a mask of power and pride. Lagertha watched her walk to the shore; the ginger had her hair loose and was dressed in black from head to toe. A golden crown rested on her head, big dangly earrings, and a golden necklace around her neck.

The funeral was a miserable affair; the moment they lit the boat, it felt like a part of Vanya died. As if she crawled into the ship and curled herself around the horse head, burning alive alongside Aslaug's corpse.

The Queen looked as magnificent as she did while alive, finally free of all the burdens that came with marrying Ragnar Lothbrok. Vanya stood alongside the shores, surrounded by shieldmaidens, a prisoner. Brynja was forbidden anywhere near her, and she never felt more alone. Hoenir was being taken care of by some healers; the only one she had left was Aros.

Her son hated the scene as much as her, clutching her black dress in his tiny fists, hiccuping in between sobs. Humming a lullaby into his ear didn't help either. She wondered if he understood what happened or what danger they were in now.

She may have walked onto the shore surrounded by Aslaug's guards, but a nod from the new Queen made them abandon her, Lagertha's warriors surrounding her instead. Their loyalties lay with the new ruler, which meant that if she ordered Vanya's death, no one would try to stop her.

Vanya's head was on the chopping block, the axe dangling over her head. But she had to hide her fear, look as if she was at peace with death, or hid an ace in her sleeve. But she was powerless; the only thing she has is her courage.

Lagertha stood away from her, smiling in satisfaction, unbothered by Vanya's hateful stare. This time, Vanya didn't pray for her demise; she wished she could kill the bitch herself. An eye for an eye, a life for a life.

By the time Ubbe and Sigurd returned, everything was in chaos. Asluag was buried, and Lagertha sat on her throne. "Where's our mother?"

"She's dead, Ubbe." She replied nonchalantly, causing the two brothers to look at her in shock. They refused to go to England with Ragnar to protect Kattegat and their mother and failed both. "I killed her."

"Why?" The question was soft and laced with confusion and hurt. Despite being the oldest, Ubbe felt useless, helpless. He left her and signed her death sentence in return.

"She took Kattegat away from me. I wanted it back." Torvi and Astrid watched the Ragnarsson curiously, waiting for them to attack. Ubbe drew his weapon, and just as fast, the rest of the hall did as well.

Sigurd tried to hold him back, knowing it would be futile and would probably result in their deaths as well. "Where's Vanya and Aros? What did you do to them?" He asked, looking around the hall for his nephew and sister in law, but couldn't see them.

"They are alive, but not here. I do not know where they are."

"Why didn't you also have us killed?" Sigurd asked again, trying to make sense of Lagertha's plan. Did she really think they wouldn't avenge their mother? No matter how strained his relationship with her was, Lagertha's actions would hold consequences.

Sitting on her throne of lies, Lagertha smiled somewhat smugly. "This was nothing to do with you. You are Ragnar's sons. It was not your fault that your father was bewitched."

Ubbe pointed his dagger towards her, spitting words like venom. "It was a mistake not to kill us."

"That's a chance I was prepared to take." Ubbe turned his back to the new Queen, dropping his coat and charging towards her. Sigurd was held back by numerous warriors with swords to his throat as his brother fought his way to Lagertha.

He would have made it if it were not for Astrid stepping in and the others using the chance to pin him to the ground. Lagertha watched the Ragnarsson growling on the floor like a feral beast, worry evident in her eyes.

Sigurd and Ubbe left the Great Hall, the older of the two beaten up pretty badly. Brynja watched them go, taking the dark alley's between the houses to stay out of the usurper's sight. Striding after them, she picked up a pebble and threw it at Sigurd's head, startling the young Prince.

He turned around in shock to see her red hair in the alley, mentioning for him to come closer, he pulled his brother after him. "Brynja? What do you want?"

The ginger rolled her blue eyes and took both by the hand, leading them through the less crowded ways, taking various turns to shake off any followers. In the end, they reached a farm on top of a hill, hushed voices spoke inside the hut. "We were worried that they killed you too. Luckily, the Gods heard some of Vanya's prayers."

"You know where she is?" Ubbe questioned the servant earnestly only to ear a shushing sound and a nod. When the door opened, they were greeted with a bearded man with a bow pointed at that.

"Put it down, father. The Ragnarssons are back."

"Thank the Gods." He lowered the weapon and allowed them in. Behind a curtain in the kitchen were hushed voices by candlelight. One belonged to their sister in law, which made them sigh in victory.

"Vanya!" Sigurd called out, pulling back the curtain to see the Saxon Princess on her knees with an older woman by her side, tending to someone on a bed of furs. The someone was barechested, with bandages over his shoulder and pants ripped in some places to give access to his other wounds. "Is that Hoenir?"

"Arrow wounds, bruises, a broken nose, and two broken fingers, cuts, and scrapes all over as well. They beat him in the morning, left him on the ground to bleed out." Vanya explained, wringing the bloody cloth in a basin of water.

"Will he be ok?" Sigurd questioned, walking closer to his friend's bedside. The two men grew close over time, bonding over their love for music and Vanya. Hoenir was a good listener and gave wise advice when needed; it would be a shame if he died like this instead of the battlefield. A man like him deserved Valhalla.

Vanya bandaged another wound on the knee as the older woman wiped his face clean, and Brynja moved to find him some new clothes. "If the Gods's will it. We gave him tea to put him to sleep. But it's up to his strength and the Gods if he lives."

"We should move him." Ubbe declared, looking down at his sister to see her crying, eyes bloodshot, and Aros sleeping on another fur next to Hoenir. "I am sorry we left."

"She shot her Ubbe." Vanya sobbed out, looking at the beaten-up man in desperation. As if Ubbe could bring Aslaug back from the dead. "After renouncing everything and asking safe passage! Lagertha shot her in the back. I felt her die in my arms..."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .1.

saturday

Warnings: non/dub con sex 

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader's vacation doesn’t go as planned.

Note:  Okay, so my dad!Steve fic turned into a gd series, but it’s gonna be short (six/seven parts) and it’s gonna be posted all this week (exception for wednesday for obvious reasons). The fic takes places over a week and so each chapter is a day.

We get a sexy dad!Steve who’s a bit more devious than dark and well...I’ll let you guys figure it out for yourselves! I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think!

...

One week. That was your summer, truly. The rest you would spend working at the banquet hall, serving drunken guests at birthdays, weddings, and anniversaries. At the end, you would return to the sleepy lectures and all-nighters which defined university living.

Six hours in the car and a pit stop or two and you were on official vacation. Kylie was waiting. A pool, too. That was the real attraction. The moment she mentioned that, you were sold. It was surely preferable to spending your only week off alone in the town you grew up in. 

Google led you to a long driveway. At the end stood a house three times as big as yours. By the look of it, the pool must have been massive. You couldn’t wait.

There were two other cars in the driveway. The cherry red Mercedes Kylie had bragged about but her dad hadn’t let he take with her to uni, and a Range Rover in pristine white. Both sat outside the double-door garage just off the side of the cobbled walkway.

You pulled up behind the Mercedes and climbed out with a groan. Your legs were cramped and you were sorely in need of relief. Your bladder was full from the ginger ale you gulped after the last rest stop. You grabbed your purse from the passenger’s seat and the compact luggage from the trunk. 

The small suitcase rolled over the bumpy cobbles and you lifted it up the steps. The wooden door was wide enough for two to go through at once and the wrought iron hinges gave it a vintage feel. You raised a fist to knock but paused. You supposed the doorbell in the middle of the ornamental sun was a more effective route.

You rang and waited. You gripped the handle of your suitcase and pulled out your phone. A whole two minutes and you pushed it again. Still, nothing. You swiped up and began to type out a message to Kylie. She was probably already floating in the pool, sunglasses on, the world blotted out from her mind.

You jumped before you hit send. The garage door jerked and the electric motor slowly lifted the folding door. The sound of a radio came faint from within. A man peeked around and you were ready to kick yourself. Google had taken you to the wrong house. Fuck.

“I thought I heard something,” He said above the radio hosts as they announced the weekend top ten throwbacks. “You must be Kylie’s friend. I told her to wait, but…”

“Stubborn,” You finished awkwardly. You gave him your name and looked around. “Um, so she told you about me?”

“A little. Mentioned a friend.” He shrugged. “I’m Steve...her father.”

His greying blonde hair caught the sun as he smiled. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he reached to his belt to loose the rag there, wiping the grime from his hand. Kylie’s dad was suppose to be out of town, or so she said. It seemed, however, he was very much in town. So much for a vacation.

“Door’s unlocked,” He shaded his eyes, his bicep bulged. He was in good shape for his age. Good shape for any. “Pool’s right through. Past the foyer and into the kitchen. Sliding doors are right there.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glued to the unseen interior of the garage. “Drag her out and get her to give you the tour.”

You nodded and he disappeared back into the garage. He left the door open. You pushed down the lever and stepped inside. You slipped off your sneakers, afraid to mess the sparkling floors, and left your bags beside the mat. Just past the large curved staircase was the door to the kitchen.

This wasn’t just a house, it was a mansion. Kylie seemed the well-to-do type but you hadn’t expected this. The kitchen was just as grand. Pale checkered floors, marble counters, glass cabinets and fridge. Sleek but classic.

Kylie didn’t notice the door as it slid open. Didn’t notice as you approached the pool, the mosaic of dark blues, teals, and white formed swirled waves around the edge. Beach loungers lined the side and a round table with tanning lotion and an empty glass stood between two cushioned lawn chairs.

“Hey,” You neared the edge. She lazed by in a floatie, pointed sunglasses over her eyes, a skinny red bikini betrayed her confidence. “Thought you’re dad was gone for the week.”

“He got cancelled on,” She didn’t move, didn’t even open her eyes beneath the shades. “He’s cool with it though. Says he’ll give us our space.”

“Great, I’m sure he won’t mind the sixer in my bag if he’s at a distance,” You said dryly.

“Pfft, he’d rather I drink here than somewhere else.” She replied, “He’s always offering his beer but you know me, I don’t do beer.”

“Oh,” You wouldn’t guess a man like him with a house like this would be anything but strict. “It does preclude us from our little midnight trip to the beach. Mercedes has to be parked and polished by ten.”

“I told you, I’m not skinny dipping,” You grumbled, “I don’t care how dark it is.”

“Well, now it’s not an argument because we can’t go,” She stopped herself with a hand on the edge as she floated close to the ladder. “Tell me he wasn’t an ass.” She climbed out with a splash. “He didn’t tell one of his jokes, did he?”

“He was...nice,” You answered vaguely, “Why didn’t you tell me you lived in a palace?”

“Whatever, dunno why dad kept the house,” She grabbed the towel from over the closest chair, “Him and my mom built it but I don’t think it’s so much sentiment as spite now.”

“Your mom?” You wondered.

“She lives a state over now. Bigger house actually.” She wrapped the towel around her as she led you back to the sliding doors. “Richer man.”

“Sounds like the life,” You kidded. She laughed.

“Trust me, I know,” She guided you through the kitchen and to the base of the staircase. “Once I’m out of school, I’m gonna find me a good daddy. Maybe in L.A.” You giggled and she climbed the stairs lazily. “As you can see, this place is massive. “Not to hard to guess that upstairs are the bedrooms and downstairs the rest. Living room, dining room, kitchen, office, gym.” She listed, “My dad’s room is just down there,” She pointed to the end of the east hall. “Mine’s complete opposite. Thank god.”

“You can stay in the nice guest room.” She led you to the door two from her own. “The rest look like my grandma decorated them and this one has a full bath.”

“I’d sleep on your porch and be comfortable,” You scoffed and she rolled her eyes. “Better grab your stuff and get changed. Vacation starts now.”

“Sure,” You turned back down the hall. It wouldn’t be very relaxing with the unexpected third wheel. Or were you the third wheel?

-

You floated around the edge of the pool. Kylie had found a second floatie but it took ages to blow it up. She didn’t help. She went back to her own and swiped through instagram. Oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

In your flowered one-piece you even looked like you didn’t belong. Of course Kylie was tall, blond, and perfect and made anyone seem the opposite. You read the novel your sister had lent you but found yourself closing your eyes beneath your round shades. She hadn’t warned you it was a romance.

It was getting late. The air cooled and the sun was on its decline. You dipped your fingers in the water. Even with the heater on, it made you shiver. Of course, you'd been baking for hours now.

You paddled yourself to the side of the pool. You tossed your book up and carefully pulled yourself close. You hooked a leg over and were halfway onto solid ground when the floatie began to stray. In your struggle to keep aground, your lost the floatie and found yourself plunging into the pool.

You came up for air with a gasp. You were surprised by the two sets of laughter that greeted you. Kylie was at the ladder, holding her own floatie steady as she giggled. You turned as her dad stood just outside the open sliding doors. He had seen everything.

“Girls,” He cleared his throat, “I was just coming out to ask what you wanted on your pizza?”

“Pizza,” Kylie repeated. “I’d prefer sushi.”

“You’d prefer the world,” He returned. Kylie climbed up the ladder without a splash and you waded over to it. “Or you guys can fend for yourselves. I was just trying to set a good impression for your friend, but--”

“You know what I like, dad,” Kylie whined.

“Ah, only children,” Steve sighed and looked to you as you climbed out of the pool. 

The water dripped from your suit as it clung to your figure. You quickly crossed to the beach chair and pulled a towel around you. You nearly slipped as you came to a stop. 

“Careful,” He warned. You could feel him watching; was it concern? Amusement? “So, any preferences?”

“Um, not really. Don’t really like meat on my pizza but I’m not picky,” You tried to smile as you wiped your face dry. “Always considered myself lucky to get a slice with my siblings.”

“Alright,” He said, “I’ll go order. Kylie, close the pool up before you come in.”

“Yes, Dad,” She huffed and he pulled shut the door behind him. “You know he was supposed to go see some friend in the city but he’s out here making my life miserable.”

“Oh?” You didn’t wanna be ungracious to the man who had so far been rather nice. You also didn’t want to feed her only child syndrome. “He’s all paranoid because I had Taylor over without telling him and he walked in on us making out.”

“I’m sure it could’ve been worse,” You mused.

“Yeah, he could’ve walked in a few minutes later,” She shrugged and took the key from the glass table. She crossed to the end of the pool and knelt to open the lid of a box set into the stone. She shoved the key in and turned. The pool cover slowly whirred and unfolded across the pool. “I don’t think he believed you were real, to be honest.”

The pool cover finished its journey to the other end and she snapped the lid shut. She strode around the pool and slipped on her sandals as she grabbed her phone from the table. You hugged your own towel to you as she carelessly rubbed dry her body with one hand. She led you inside and barely acknowledged her dad as she walked through the kitchen.

You glanced over at Steve and he smiled. Caught, you tried to smile back and carried on. He didn’t seem the type to put up with Kylie’s attitude but he also seemed to have a way with her. She was snarky but she did as he said.

“Pizza’s due in twenty minutes,” He called after Kylie. “I’m not gonna wait for you.”

“Sure, Dad,” She shrugged and started up the staircase. You followed and resisted the urge to look over to the kitchen door. You swore a shadow filled it as you began your ascent.

-

You changed and followed Kylie down to the dining room. The table was more appropriate for a dozen than the meagre three who sat along it. The pizza had already shown up and Steve had stacked plates beside the boxes. He had taken two slices for himself. You sat beside Kylie and she took a single slice. You did the same and her dad chuckled.

“Come on, it’s a vacation, help yourself,” He caught the lid before it could close. “Take a second. Hell, a third.”

“Dad,” Kylie scowled, “We’re adults. We can feed ourselves.”

“I know, I know, but you should enjoy yourself,” He countered, “You’re not on another cleanse are you?”

“No, I learned my lesson,” She nibbled at her slice.

“An unpleasant one,” He laughed and took a bite. He swallowed as his blue eyes wandered over to you hiding behind your slice. “So, Kylie said you two are in the same program.”

“Yeah, uh,” You took a napkin from the pile and wiped your mouth. “For now, at least.”

“For now?” He asked.

“I’m trying to transfer. I don’t think Lit is for me,” You explained and watched the drops of grease trickle along the cheese. “I’m waiting for an answer from the head of the journalism program but...well, deadline’s well and passed and I thought I’d know by now.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it. If it’s what you really want, I can’t see why they’d turn a smart girl like you away.” He took another bite.

“Smart? How do you know that?” You raised a brow.

“Kylie mentioned something about honours. Also a little study session that saved her from a summer semester.” He chided and Kylie rolled her eyes.

“To be fair, that was a hard course. I barely eked out a low A and the drop rate was almost sixty percent,” You tried to help as best you could. You wouldn’t mention that Kylie had been hungover during the exam or that you hadn’t even been in that course. “And, well, I’ll at least know before we return to campus...I guess.”

“Looking forward to it?” He asked. “I know Kylie is. What’s not to miss in the city? All those boys.”

“Dad,” You chewed your pizza as Kylie cringed. “Don’t start on that.”

You hid your discomfort and focused on swallowing. Unlike Kylie, boys had not been the best part of your undergrad experience. In fact, they had been more stressful than classes. University had turned out little better than high school on that front.

“You’re young. This is the time to get your kicks in,” Steve laughed.

“Stop it, Dad!” Kylie griped.

“Don’t act like you’re not with that Taylor boy,” He jabbed. “No judgment, just be safe.”

“Please stop before I lose my appetite,” Kylie stared at her pizza in disgust.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to tell me about all your illicit lovers,” Steve turned back to you, “Just one.”

“Dad!” Kylie dropped her crust. “Keep it up and she’s going to leave.”

You giggled nervously. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t want to admit that you weren’t very experienced, though Kylie already knew. It was almost flattering that he would think you were more than a clueless girl.

“Only if you tell me yours,” You kidded and finished your crust. You reached for another and Steve opened the box for you.

“Don’t encourage him,” Kylie grumbled, “He will, you know? He’s not subtle.”

Steve chuckled at his daughter and met your eyes. He lifted his brows before he looked away. He lifted his second piece of pizza and chewed. You did the same. You always over-thought these things. 

Surely he had only been joking. Had to be. Afterall, you were entirely ignorant of the other sex. You were quick to read into every word and gesture. This was English Lit. There was no symbolism here.

-

tags to be added in reblog

[nitewrighter]

Ripping Off Bandaids

I started writing this back when I got that ask about heart-to-hearts between Mercy and Hanzo. Here’s some venty, angry angsty Mercy and Hanzo who’s honestly kind of relieved to hear his horrible internal monologue coming from outside his head for once.

----

McCree shivered and pulled the infirmary sheets up around himself in a half-asleep haze. “Fish tacos...” he said deliriously, a clammy, feverish sweat on his forehead, “I can’t believe I was betrayed by fish tacos...”

Mercy was nonchalantly looking over his vitals on her tablet, the lower half of her face covered by a surgical mask, “Well, with all the traveling Overwatch does, I figured something like this would happen sooner or later,” she glanced up from her tablet at his IV’s, “But you seem to have... uh... purged the worst of it from your system. At this point it’s mostly a matter of resting and staying hydrated.”

“Mmh,” McCree curled up a little bit more.

“How would you say it? ‘Rest easy, buckaroo,’” said Mercy, with a weary smile, as she closed the blinds of the infirmary.

“Merce, if I hear the word ‘buckaroo’ outta you I may just start spewing chunks all over again,” said McCree, his voice half-muffled into a pillow.

Mercy snorted slightly, glad McCree had the strength to call her out on it, “I’m just a button press away,” she said, stepping out the door. It closed behind her with a whoosh and she rolled her shoulders slightly, looking forward to getting out of her sterilized gear--when she nearly bumped into Hanzo. Hanzo was carrying several bottles of sports drinks and cans of ginger ale and nearly dropped one.

“...Doctor Ziegler,” Hanzo said, awkwardly readjusting the bottles and cans in his arms.

“...the intent is appreciated, Hanzo,” said Mercy, “But he already has a saline IV. He should be fine.”

“Yes--well... I thought.. the option might be appreciated,” said Hanzo.

“It’s probably best you keep your distance in case there’s still risk of contamination,” said Mercy, stepping around him.

“…would it be too risky to leave a bottle or two on his table?” asked Hanzo.

“Well… probably not, but he needs his rest,” said Mercy.

Hanzo gave a single nod and stepped into McCree’s room. Mercy was pulling her mask and gloves off and washing her hands and wiping down her tablet at a disinfecting station when he emerged again. He waited patiently to use the sink after her.

“He, um…he looks well,” said Hanzo, washing his hands as Mercy looked back at her tablet, “Well… better. He looks better.”

“He’s over the worst of it. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your concern,” said Mercy, not looking up from her tablet.

A long silence passed between them. Hanzo dried his hands.

“...was there anything else I could help you with?” said Mercy, glancing up from her tablet.

“I thought... perhaps... we should talk,” said Hanzo.

A pall seemed to pass over Mercy’s face as she lowered her tablet to her side. She took a steadying inhale. Hanzo wondered if she had picked up the habit from Genji from the meditations their father put them through when they were small. “What did you want to talk about?” she said, looking at him.

“I know you hate me—“ Hanzo started.

Mercy’s mouth twisted down at the corners.

“Okay--I... probably could have started better than that,” Hanzo admitted..

“I don’t hate you, Hanzo, I don’t have the energy to hate you,” said Mercy, flatly.

Is that worse? thought Hanzo, That feels worse.

 “I’ll look after your physical wellbeing,” Mercy went on, “Both here on the watchpoint and during missions, as part of my commitment to medicine and the health of this watchpoint as a whole. That’s the only relationship we need to have.”

“I... understand your feelings,” said Hanzo. Mercy gave him a calm ‘you can drop it right now and get out while you still can’ look, but Hanzo continued, “But... I believe, at least for Genji’s sake, we should at least try to have more, um... rapport.”

“For Genji’s sake,” Mercy repeated flatly, “Did you come here for Genji’s sake or for your own?”

“I--” Hanzo’s voice faltered.

“Because according to your exchange with Jack, you came here because you had nowhere else to go, because Genji was all you had left,” Mercy’s words were clear and sharp and tight, something she had bundled up tightly inside for a decent amount of time, “And who am I to deny you that? Who am I to deny you your family? Who am I to deny Genji his family that he has wanted so badly for years, even though there are still nights where he wakes up, hyperventilating in a cold sweat from what you did to him? He loves you. He still loves you. McCree even loves--” she caught herself, closed her eyes and tightened her lips, tensing her shoulders before taking another calming inhale through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Her eyes opened, a half-squint half-glare at him, expecting him to cut in, but he said nothing, looking at her placidly. “This was a bad idea. I appreciate the intention, but this isn’t helping. You should--”

“You’ve sent me off before,” said Hanzo, folding his arms, “I’d... rather you complete the thought than let it fester.”

“Fester? Fester?!” Mercy repeated incredulously, “You want to talk about festering?! Against all my better thinking, I let this place, these people, become a family to me, because my family was torn away from me by forces well beyond my fucking 5-year-old self could control! And then I felt this place, and this family crumble through my fingers. And I was soft. I was kind. I was patient. Even when they let me down. Even when they betrayed my few conditions I brought with me when I started working here. I kept hoping that maybe these people I trusted, these people who brought me in and gave me purpose would do the right thing--but no. I had to watch them all fucking implode!” A shuddering breath escaped her. “So then I spend five fucking years trying to heal by helping everyone I could. And how did you try to heal after dragon-blasting the closest family you had left? 10 years wandering, drowning your problems in blood and sake,” she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her fingertips to her temples for a few seconds before her eyes flicked open at him, “So I could be soft now. I could be kind. I could be patient. I could say ‘Oh Genji, I’m so glad you’re bringing back your brother who murdered and traumatized you into this fragile life we’ve built together.’ But I’ve felt this family crumble before, and I won’t let it crumble again. Can you understand those feelings, Hanzo? Can you respect those feelings?” She was breathless now, fingers shaking slightly in front of her. 

Hanzo looked at her with that same level gaze Genji would give her sometimes. Not pity, but trying to puzzle out how to pull her from her pain. “...I can,” he said after a long time, “I do.”

Mercy made a wincing face and Hanzo brought his hands up in a calming motion.

“During one of my first nights on the Watchpoint,” he went on, “McCree asked me if... everyone here other than Genji was just background noise to me. He... said something similar to what you said--that I was just here so I could, quote, ‘stop kicking my own ass over Genji.’ That the people Genji cared about, the people who cared about Genji, didn’t matter to me.”

Mercy let out a scoffing chuckle, glancing off, “That sounds like McCree.”

“When I responded ‘I don’t know’ he said, ‘Figure it out before you hurt him again.’ That... that is what I’m trying to figure out now,” Hanzo glanced down, “Admittedly I was operating under the assumption that Genji has spent this past decade as isolated as me. If not dead, then surely alone.” He sighed, “And from my own solitude came the assumption that Genji’s pain was Genji’s own... that there weren’t other people it was affecting. That there weren’t people who loved him. That there weren’t people like you.”

Mercy’s expression softened slightly, but she folded her arms across herself to try and get the shake in her fingers under control.

“...You don’t have to like me,” said Hanzo, at last, “As you said--being a doctor to this Watchpoint is the only relationship we absolutely need to have. But I want you to know that you have my deepest respect and thanks for saving my brother from my own rage and pride. And while I know there’s nothing I can do that can ever repay you for that act, if there’s any way I could help you in the future... I am at your service.”

Mercy’s eyes widened. “Did... did McCree--”

“McCree did not ‘put me up to this,’” said Hanzo, with a slight wry smile, “But... he holds you in very high regard. So that did help push me towards the decision to discuss this with you. I know he means a lot to you as well.”

“...You mean a lot to him,” said Mercy, glancing towards McCree’s door.

“He believes in redemption,” said Hanzo, following her line of sight. 

“...I don’t think any of us would be here if we didn’t believe in redemption,” she bit the inside of her lip, “What I said to you earlier--the ‘blood and sake’ and--and you threatening this family--”

“I understand completely,” said Hanzo.

“It was horrible of me,” Mercy tried to go on.

“Those words came from your need to protect Genji. I can assure you, I’ve done a lot worse,” said Hanzo.

Mercy huffed a little. “Terribly competitive, you Shimadas.”

“Oh I’m even worse than Genji,” said Hanzo with a slight smirk, folding his arms.

“You’re even competitive about who’s worse about being competitive!” said Mercy with a scoffing chuckle.

Hanzo chuckled a bit too. “Yes... I suppose so.”

A long, somewhat awkward pause passed between them.

“I--I should probably let you...” Hanzo trailed off, stepping backwards.

“Yes, I should be closing up here,” said Mercy, picking her tablet back up.

“Right,” said Hanzo, turning around, “Have a good evening, Doctor Ziegler.”

“You as well,” said Mercy.

Hanzo made it down the infirmary hall a ways before Mercy’s voice piped up. “Oh--and Hanzo?”

He stopped and turned to look at her.

“I’ll let you know when McCree’s ready to see you,” she said, tucking her tablet against herself.

Hanzo gave a quiet “Hm,” and a  small nod before walking off again.

[weathergirl8]

Pranks and Tempers (3/3)

I thought about adding more to this, but for now I like where it ended. Enjoy! I’m in college and working fulltime, but trying to work on a sequel to my story Always the Hero. I’ve also got another disaster angsty Alan and Gordon fic in the back burner that hopefully some day I’ll finish.

Part 1 | Part 2

~~~~~~~~~

Jeff sat quietly at his desk as he tried to process the morning’s events. Running an exasperated hand over his face, he composed himself. Turning to the computer monitor, he initiated a line with Thunderbird 5.

“Hey, Dad,” John’s cheerful image appeared upon the screen before him. “A little early for our noon update, aren’t we?” the blonde inquired as he noticed it was barely eleven o’clock in the morning Tracy Island time.

Jeff chuckled. “Got anything to report?”

“Not much,” the astronaut informed. “There’s a typhoon off the coast of the Philippines heading for the open ocean, and a 2.1 magnitude earthquake hit Japan, but the authorities have it under control.”

“Looks like our quiet streak continues for now,” Jeff acknowledged.

“It does!” John smiled, watching his father. Hidden lines of worry were etched upon the patriarch’s face. “This isn’t just a formal call, is it, Dad?”

Jeff smirked at his always insightful second born. “No, John. It isn’t.”

“What happened?” John frowned.

Jeff sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time this morning. “Gordon is on medical leave for the next twenty-four hours at least, and then light duty for a few days after.”

“Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Jeff reassured as he met John’s concerned features. “He has a mild concussion. He and Alan got hurt during an altercation.”

“Altercation?” John asked, confused. “Between each other?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have all the facts yet, only Scott’s account of things,” Jeff explained. “It appears Gordon pulled a prank on your older brother, and as you can imagine, it wasn’t well received.”

John gave his father a curious look. “What’d the little creep do this time?”

“Paint in the showerhead,” Jeff chuckled, unable to hide his amusement.

“My new paint I just ordered, I might add,” Virgil’s voice suddenly echoed as he walked up, joining them.

John shook his head, picturing the image. “Let me guess, it was yellow?” the blonde said, putting a hand to his face.

“How’d you know?” Virgil questioned from behind Jeff.

“While you were heading to the cockpit on the last call, Gordon was securing the equipment. I might’ve allowed him to vent about Scott’s nit-picking on the previous rescue. He was pretty adamant about making our older brother pay for his remarks about Four and his criticizing.”

Virgil groaned. “Of course, he was.”

“So, what happened, and how did Alan get involved?” John asked, still trying to understand the situation.

“Well, as Dad had Scott’s point of view, I got Alan’s,” Virgil said, putting a hand on his father’s chair. “Alan told me Scott confronted Gordon right outside his bedroom. When Alan opened his door to see what was going on, Scott started in on the two of them. Words were said, and Scott shoved the two of them on his way to tell Dad. Both were standing on the ledge of the landing and lost their balance. Gordo smacked his head on the old armoire. Alan hit his back on the edge of the other table and has some cuts and scrapes from a glass vase that broke.”

“Wow,” John whistled, amazed. “That definitely could’ve gone better. How are Scott and Alan?”

“I had to separate them,” Jeff said. “Both were ready to go at each other.”

“They’re too much alike,” John replied, rubbing his neck.

Jeff nodded in agreement. “I’m giving everyone a moment to step back, and then we will talk about what happened. You boys know I don’t like violence. This can’t happen again.”

“Do you want me to talk to Scott?” Virgil asked, looking down at his father.

“No,” Jeff shook his head. “Let’s just let them be for now. Both Scott and Alan do better if you just give them space to cool down.”

“Gordon say anything to you, Virg?” John wondered.

“Not much. Gordy’s feeling pretty guilty, and dare I say stupid at the moment,” Virgil answered honestly.

“Never a dull moment around here is there?” John said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Never,” Jeff exhaled, grinning.

“This too shall pass, Dad,” Virgil said, squeezing their father’s shoulder.

“It’s been a rough week and a half of tough rescues. Tensions are just high. These last few days have been our first real break in some time. Something was bound to happen,” John said. “We’ll be laughing about this by next week.”

Jeff allowed a small smile to graze his features, grateful for their words. “I can only hope.”

-TB-  

Alan walked along the beach, taking in the warm late afternoon breeze as he was making every effort to distract his mind. He watched each wave roll toward the shoreline, it’s sound relaxing him.

As he strolled along the sand, he felt his foot land on a rock. Pausing, he went to reach for it but stopped as he looked at his bandaged hands. Groaning in annoyance, he kicked the object instead, knowing Virgil wouldn’t be happy with him if he got his hands infected with sand.

Noticing he was approaching the path that led back to the house, the youngest Tracy followed it. He’d spent a solid hour wandering the island, and the blonde knew that if he didn’t return soon, Virgil would send a search party.

It had taken some coaxing and sneaking to get his older brother to allow him out of the house. Alan knew Virgil was just overcautious and concerned. Whenever the medic went into doctor mode, nothing was safe from scrutiny. Alan loved his brother for caring, but as he calmly tried to explain, his injuries were superficial. Just a bruise on his back and a few small deep cuts on his hands and knees. He wasn’t dying anytime soon, and a walk around the beach wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He was fine.

Gordon was the one Virgil needed to fuss over. Alan had only been allowed to see Gordon once since the early morning events, and it frustrated him beyond words. It was no secret how close he was to the swimmer of the family, and Gordon was the main person he went to when he needed to vent. Unfortunately, his person was off-limits right now as the ginger’s aching head needed some peace and quiet.

Sure, he could’ve reached out to John as a substitute. John was a great listener and generally had a way with words. An asset the youngest Tracy had utilized often while he had been away at school. Today, Alan didn’t feel like troubling John with his issues. He didn’t need another brother getting drawn into it.

Walking up the steps that led to the pool deck, Alan froze as he came face to face with his eldest brother. The pair stared at one another, unsure who should speak first. Alan made a quick decision and moved to side-step Scott, intent on heading inside without a word.

“Alan, wait,” Scott pleaded.

“Not now, Scott.”

“Alan, would you just quit and listen for once?” Scott cried in frustration.

Alan stopped and immediately turned around. “I’m the one that needs to listen?” the youngest scoffed. “That’s really rich, Scott. Especially coming from you on today of all days.”

“I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me? It’s not like I did it on purpose!”

“No, but it happened didn’t it,” Alan muttered.

“If you two would just grow up and quit your stupid immature games, maybe it wouldn’t have,” Scott fumed.

Alan walked toward his oldest brother, meeting him head-on. “Don’t tell me I’m immature and need to grow up, when after today you are no better. I might get angry and blow up, but I’ve NEVER hurt anyone.” Alan clenched his fists in an effort to keep himself in check, backing away marginally from Scott. “You always do this, Scott! You’ve always made it us against you. Gordon and I labeled just too young and immature to ever understand or be on your level when something doesn’t go your way. I’ve been putting up with it for years, and I’m done!” Alan yelled.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Scott seethed.

“It means I’m sick of it! I can’t speak for Gordon, but something has to give. All I’ve ever wanted is to be seen as your equal and damn it all if I haven’t tried, Scott. I’m definitely not perfect, and I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but you can’t always hold them over my head. I might be the youngest, but I’m not an idiot. I’m not a kid anymore, and you can’t keep treating me like I am.”

Scott remained silent as he took in his baby brother’s words. Relaxing his body, he ran a weary hand over his face. “Is that what you really think? That I think so little of you?”

“Why not?” Alan scoffed. “Ever since I returned from college, you’ve made it hard not to see otherwise. Almost every decision I’ve made on a mission you’ve shot down, rebuked, or called crazy. For the record, there’s more than one solution to a problem. I might not always be right, but haven’t I earned the right to at least be heard?”

“Does Gordon feel the same way?” Scott asked quietly.

Alan shrugged. “I can’t say for certain, but he’s vented to me after a few calls when I was at Harvard.” Alan watched his older brother as Scott took in his words. “Look, Scott. I’m not trying to make you feel like an ass, but I’m just stating facts. You tell me I need to listen more, but so do you. You accused me of being apart of Gordon’s prank this morning when I didn’t have a single hand in it. You wouldn’t even let me get a word in. You had your mind made up, and that was it. What happened after that was well…” Alan paused as he fiddled with the bandages on his hands. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt Gordo and me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I feel betrayed.”

“I feel horrible, Alan. I would never intentionally hurt one of you, but it appears I’ve been doing just that for a while,” Scott said solemnly. “Allie, I had no idea you felt that way. I’ve been an idiot.”

Alan looked up at Scott in shock. “Scott…”

“No, Al, I have,” Scott started, meeting Alan’s eyes. “You’re right, this is all my fault, and I need to listen more. I need to step back. It’s not easy...”

“Believe me, I know how hard it can be,” Alan smirked.

“When did you get so wise?” Scott said with a suspicious stare.

“I’ve always been, you guys just never let me show it,” Alan chuckled.

Scott studied his baby brother’s features once more. Closing the gap between them, he placed a hand along Alan’s left shoulder. “Allie, I guess it boils down to the fact that it’s hard for me to accept that you are as old as you are. That you’ve become an adult and that Gordon is an adult.”

“Sometimes,” Alan laughed.

“Yeah, sometimes,” Scott smirked, returning the laugh. “To me, you’ll both always be my kid brothers - especially you, Allie. I just want to protect you at all costs, and in doing so, I lose sight of what’s standing right in front of me. It’s my job as field commander to make sure all of you make it home from a rescue, and sometimes that blinds me. I’ll work on it, okay? It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll try. Deal?”

Alan smiled. “Deal.”

“Come here,” Scott said as he enveloped Alan in a hug. “Thanks for giving me a kick in the pants and sorry for hurting you guys.”

“It’s okay, Scooter,” Alan replied, returning the hug.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” the brunette asked, as he pulled Alan away to get a good look at him. “Dad forced me out before I saw the rest of the damage I inflicted.”

“It’s nothing but a raised bruise that Virgil is making a thing out of,” Alan laughed. “I’ll live.”

Scott scowled. “Hands?”

“Again, I’ll be fine,” Alan said, swatting away his brother’s hand as he reached for the bandages. “Honestly, there’s maybe four or five cuts that are worth all this white gauze. If you ask me, it’s overkill.”

Scott smirked. “That’s our Doc. Virgil is anything but not thorough.”

“Yea. Um,” Alan paused as he looked at his watch. “Speaking of, Virg. If Gordon is feeling better, he should be released from the infirmary by now. If you wanted to see him, that is.”

“I need to talk to him too. Clear the air, you know,” Scott acknowledged.

“I could go with you,” Alan offered. “Maybe help keep the peace for once.”

“Now there’s a first,” Scott bellowed, ruffling the youngster’s blonde mop.

“Fine, I take it back,” Alan pouted.

“Thanks, kiddo, but I think this is one I need to handle on my own,” Scott said, putting an arm around Alan’s back as they headed inside the house.

“Okay, well, you know where to find me,” Alan said. Both looked up to see their father approaching them with a questioning gaze. “Hey, Dad!”

“Everything good here?” Jeff questioned warily.

“All good, Dad. Sorry again about all this,” Scott said.

“Me too,” Alan agreed. “Won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” Jeff said sternly. “I won’t tolerate violence in any form from any of you. Especially at home.”

“Have you seen Gordon?” Alan asked.

“I just came from the infirmary. Virgil allowed him to leave the infirmary as long as he took it easy. Gordon said he was headed to his room for a bit. He wasn’t too keen on the pool being off-limits to him until tomorrow,” Jeff said. “I’ve got a business call in my office if you need me. Be good, boys.”

“No pool, huh?” Alan grimaced as they approached their bedrooms. “Are you sure you want to go it alone?”

Scott playfully shoved his little brother into his room. “Don’t rub it in, brat. I’ve got this.”

“Alright,” Alan smirked. “But if I hear shouting, don’t expect me to come running this time.”

Scott glared at him as Alan quickly shut his door before he could comment. Taking in a deep breath, the brunette knocked on Gordon’s door. “Gordon?”

After a few seconds, the redhead opened the door. “Scott?” he asked, surprised.

“Hey,” Scott greeted. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, I guess,” Gordon responded, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m not here to yell,” Scott tried to reassure. “I’m here to apologize and to check on you.”

Gordon took a seat on his bed, remaining quiet. He was unsure of how to respond. “Have you spoken to Alan?”

“I have,” Scott said, leaning against Gordon’s door. “We’re good, Gordon. Now I need to make it up to you. I never meant to hurt you, kid. I never should’ve reacted that way.”

“It’s not entirely all your fault,” Gordon added, studying his brother.

“No, but I’m the reason you’ve got that headache,” Scott replied. “Alan also made sure to remind me how much of an idiot I’ve been.”

Gordon looked up at his eldest brother in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that I’m a horrible listener,” Scott smirked, earning a chuckle from his brother. “Allie pointed out I’ve also been a tyrant in the field lately.”

“What else did Alan say?”

“He made it pretty clear I’ve been a jerk all around, Gordo. To you and him,” Scott said, as he moved forward to join Gordon on the bed. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel anything less than a valued member of the team. That was the last thing I meant to do.”

“The rescues over the last few months, unfortunately, have required a lot of tough calls on my behalf. It’s not an excuse, but it’s my job to make sure you make it back here, Gordon. In performing that job, I also got in my head. Bottled a lot of the bad stuff up, and it just exploded. Sadly, you bore the brunt of that. I can’t tell you how sorry I sincerely am for hurting you and Allie.”

“I accept your apology, but only if you’ll accept mine as well,” Gordon replied, meeting his brother’s sapphire eyes. “Wow, that must’ve been some talk the Sprout gave you,” Gordon chuckled.

“More screamed at me, but he opened my eyes,” Scott sobered. “I mean it, Gordon. I’m going to try to be better at listening to you guys. I never want you to feel like your opinion doesn’t matter on a call. I might not always see the merits to your perspective, but as Alan pointed out, you deserve to be heard.”

“Even when you’re an asshole?” Gordon asked, honestly.

“Yes, especially then,” Scott simpered. “I’m sure you’ll be the first to remind me.”

“You bet I will,” Gordon smiled with glee.

“How’s the head?” Scott asked as he placed a gentle hand on his younger brother’s forehead.

“Throbs every once and awhile, but I’ve dealt with worse,” Gordon confessed. “Quit beating yourself up about it. What’s done is done. I’ll be good as new in a day or so, and this will just be another cherished memory.”

“It could’ve been worse.”

“Scott, just let it go,” Gordon groaned. “Or do I need to find Allie to knock some more sense into you?”

“No, I’m good,” Scott laughed. “Can’t let Alan get too big a head, now can we?”

“I think that ship sailed long ago, big brother.”

Scott chuckled and stood up from the bed, making his way toward the door. “I’ll let you get some more rest. Need anything?”

“No, I’m good. Besides, I give Virgil an hour before he checks in on me,” the redhead reassured.

“Take it easy and don’t give Virgil too hard a time,” Scott ordered, giving his brother a knowing look. “I’m headed to do some work in the silos. Never know when we’ll get our next call.”

“F.A.B,” Gordon saluted, earning an eye roll from his older brother. “Oh, and Scott? Just remember who has the better Thunderbird,” the redhead winked as Scott left his room, muttering about him being delusional.

Maybe another prank was in his future….

FIN 

[lisa-wayne-verse]

( this is a long post)

Oc : lisa wayne

( this is way different than the one on wattpad)

Mention of murder and some other stuff.

Face claim : Madelaine Petsch

ंFull name: Lisa May Quinzel Al Ghul Wayne

ंNickname(s): L, Harley.

ंPlace of birth: South Carolina, USA

ंAge: 20 in season 1 of gotham, 24 by season 5. Immortal

ंBirthdate: 1996/ DC comics don't really have a year it takes place so that was a random guess

ंSexuality/ gender : Pansexual / demi girl

ंReligion: Catholic-Christian

ंSpecies/Race: East Asian,Scottish, Irish

ंZodiac: Leo

ंStyle: Bold, Striking, Strong, Confident, Attention Grabbing

ंHair color: Ginger ( when using her Shadow powers, her hair is jet black. Her hair is also sometimes temporarily platinum blonde)

ंEye color: light blue until she gets the demon heads powers, She would have dark brown eyes. ( She also has plant Powers similar to poison ivy. When she's using her plants, her eyes are green)

ंSkin complexion: as white as a sheet

ंBlood type: O-

ंHeight: 5'6

ंWeight: In kilograms- 60 kg In pounds- 132 lbs

ंPersonality: Though at first she seems sweet, giddy, and girlish, that's just one side of Harley's personality. She's also vicious, violent, and a fierce fighter. There's little rhyme or reason to Harley's moods, which makes her impossible to predict. But above all, Harley strives to enjoy life. ( Im in the middle of improving her personality)

ंNormal mood: happy

ंLikes: Being queen of Gotham, not being in Arkham Asylum, being treated as a wayne, her friends, and much more

ंDislikes: being arrested by commissioner Gordon, her friends betraying her, most men, Much more

ंStrengths: Her powers, Friends, gymnastics, Speed,Durability

ंWeaknesses: some of her powers, insanity, the people she loved the most, love.

ंFavorite color: Red or Black

ंHated color: brown or Orange

ंFavorite place: the iceberg lounge

ंHated place: Blackgate Prison

ंFavorite music: Pop/Rock

ंHated music: country

ंFavorite animal: Dogs/ Cats

ंOptimist or Pessimist?: Pessimist

ंDaredevil or cautious?: Daredevil

ंLogical or emotional?: emotional

ंDisorderly or neat?: Disorderly

ंWorking or relaxing?: Relaxing

ंConfident or unsure?: Confident

ंIntelligence: 5/10

ंConfidence: 7/10

ंWisdom: 4/10

ंAgility: 10/10

ंStamina: 10/10

ंCooperation: 6/10

ंFather: Ra's al Ghul

ंMother: Martha Wayne

Foster mother : Nicole quinzel

Foster father : Nick quinzel

ंHalf-Brother: Bruce Wayne

ं Older Sister: April Wayne

ं Younger Sister: Valentine Wayne

( all of Ra's daughters are her half-sisters)

ंBest friend: Oswald Cobblepot

ंChildren/Pets:

She has a lot of pets and kids. I'm not going to explain that now.

( please ask questions on what Lisa Wayne has done throughout the season of Gotham and other batman media. Remember Lisa Wayne is supposed to be a Harley Quinn type of figure)

[Romantic relationships]

{Jerome Valeska. They were childhood best friends. They started dating before they was even 14. He helped him killed his mom. They had one daughter together before jerome's mom died. She was deeply saddened by his death. She became the leader of his cult and health brought back him to life. After they have their first and only son together, jerome dies. Lisa Wayne starts dating Jeremiah Valeska but never gets over him. She will always remember him.

Couples theme song : gangster by kehlani}

{ Edward Nygma. They met back when Lisa Wayne was working for GCPD. They became best friends. They dating temporarily until she cheated on him with this girl named Alex. Didn't see each other again until they start working for oswald when he became mayor. After Ed shot Oswald into the water, they started dating again. Eventually Lisa Wayne betrays Ed for Oswald. During season 4, they date again but break up because ed cheated on her with lee. In season 5, They end up having a one-night stand. Lisa Wayne find out she's pregnant with him or jeremiah being the father. Jeremiah ends up being the father

Couples song: moral of the story by ashe }

{ Selina Kyle. Selina once tired to steal from the circus that jerome Valeska and lisa Wayne was raised in. They became best friends. Eventually Selina Kyle confested her feelings to Lisa. Their relationship is long and complicated. They are more of a off and on relationship

Couples song : we fell in love in October by girl in red}

{Jeremiah Valeska. All you need to know about their relationship is that's abusive - toxic}

( she did had way more relationships. Please ask me about it}

Also you can ask me questions on my Instagram: gothamfangirlharleyquinnjoker1

[carygrantsbeard]

Anti Vaxxer’s characters rated on how much I want to date them :

Jake Lamotta : 1/10 he would try to kill me after i make eye contact with the cashier and would insist I delete every man’s number from my phone even though they’re all my uncles. The 1 is bc he’s a boxer and has curly hair that’s hot

Vito Corleone : 10/10 A hard working family man, a loyal man who provides and cares for his family first. I don’t like to deal with mothers in law and he’s an orphan, too bad for him but a bonus point for me. We’d all be lucky to have a Vito <3

Johnny Boy : 4/10 He would only go out with me to steal money from me and he wouldn’t even pay his debts with it. I would get killed hanging out with him bc he’d piss someone off and they would shoot me to retaliate. Also he’s gay

Travis Bickle : 7/10 I want to date Travis so bad. I love it when men are sick and twisted. He’d take me out on weird dates and order the most disgusting things. He’s also strangely romantic and absolutely clueless. He would try to psycho analyze me all the time and I love that.

Jimmy Conway : 6,5/10 Jimmy would definitely take care of me and I would be rich but he’s very paranoid and he would end up killing me bc he thought I’d snitch say something to the police. I don’t wanna die.

Ace Rothstein : 10000000/10 THE MAN OF MY DREAMS. HOT GIRL FASHION ICON ACE. Not only is he devoted and in love but he also gives you everything you could ever dream of. He’d let you do anything as long as you love him and make you the richest happiest woman. I would never betray him and we’d live happily ever after bc i am not a stupid woman named ginger in love with a pimp.

Neil McCauley : 2/10 makes nice romantic speeches but would kidnap me and in the end would leave me stranded just to go fight with Al Pacino and LOSE. Weirdly obsessed with the detective that wants to kill him and would rather get shot by him AND DIE than to stay with me. That’s gay.

[avengerscompound]

Like Rabbits - Chapter 7

Like Rabbits:  A Black Widow/WinterHawk Fanfic

Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Rating: E Square:  none

Word Count:  1224

Warnings:  Pregnancy stuff, mild angst, talk of past miscarriage

Synopsis:  While you and Natasha are contemplating starting a family together, Bucky and Clint are doing the exact same thing.  So two couples go take the same path to parenthood together.

A/N: This is a Natasha/Reader

Chapter 7

It wasn’t long between the positive pregnancy test and when your nausea started setting in.  Natasha took the role of doting wife very seriously and was quick with saltines and ginger ale and cool compresses.  She’d even rub shea butter into your breasts when you started to complain about them aching.  She wasn't sure if it actually did anything but the sounds you made when she did it were always so good.

While the symptoms of your pregnancy came on quickly it was another three weeks before you were able to see an obstetrician, and for some reason, Clint didn't seem to be able to deal with it.

For some reason…

Natasha knew the reason.  As Clint Barton’s card-carrying best friend she knew everything about him.  He shared things that he wouldn't even tell Bucky.  So she knew about Bobbi’s miscarriage.  Outside of Clint and Bobbi and Bobbi’s doctor, she was probably the only person who did know.  So Clint's concern that something was going to go wrong was understandable.  The truth was, that had been something she had gone through too, once upon a time.  So long ago it wasn't even something Clint knew about.  Because it wasn't so much that the Red Room had made it impossible for her to get pregnant it has just made it impossible to carry to term.

So she was determined that now you were pregnant and carrying the baby that was here despite there being no biological claim, you weren't ever going to experience that tragedy.  She would fight the gods themselves to protect you from that grief.

So every time she got a call or a text from Clint asking how things were, if you were okay, did either of you need anything, Natasha knew the question was, ‘are you still pregnant?’  So she's always made sure the answer she gave was ‘yes both you and the baby are doing just fine’.  That way he knew.

Besides, saying those words out loud was like a mantra.  If she said it, it was true and you and she were going to be parents.

Finally, the day came where the question could be answered definitively.  On the day of the first ultrasound, Natasha woke up both anxious and excited.  She so very much wanted to see that weird little shape that was going to be her son or daughter but she was more than a little worried that they weren’t going to find anything or worse, there would be no heartbeat.

“You sure you’re going to be okay with an internal if the boys are there?”  Natasha asked as she pulled her car into the carpark.

“They’ve both been in there.  I think I’ll be okay.”  You teased.

Natasha snorted and covered her face.  There were three people in the world she’d ever allowed to hear her snort-laugh and they were about to all be gathered together looking at a dark screen to see that their baby is okay.

You smiled and leaned over and kissed her.  “You ready to see your progeny?”  You asked as you took her hand and put it on your stomach.

She took a deep steadying breath.  “Yes, I think I am.”

She took your hand as the two of you went into the hospital.  Clint and Bucky arrived just as you were filling in the paperwork at the check-in.  Clint was obviously worked up.  He perched on his chair, rather than sat and he clung to Bucky’s hand like it was a lifeline as he stared at the screen that currently was just a blur of static as the ultrasound technician moved the wand inside you.

She didn’t need to imagine what he was thinking.  She was thinking the same thing and every second it took to find that tiny little peanut-sized embryo the feeling was stronger.  The pregnancy hadn’t taken.  As each second passed she squeezed your hand tighter.

“Tasha, you’re starting to hurt me.”  You said.

“Sorry, zaika.”  She said, forcing herself to relax her grip.

“Huh…” The ultrasound tech said as she finally stopped moving the wand.  “You used Clomid, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.  We aren’t together, so we wanted to put the odds in our favor that it would work.” You explained.

“Is something wrong?” Bucky asked.  Beside him, Clint has turned white as a sheet and Natasha wondered if her own fear was betraying itself.

“Quite the opposite,” the tech said.  “You’re having twins.”

Clint nearly fell off his chair while Natasha sat up straighter.  “Twins?  Really?”

“Yes.  There is a much higher rate of twins when you take Clomid.  You can see one here -“ she said circling one strange little peanut-shaped blob on the screen.  “- and the other one is here.”  She added circling another one.

“Oh my god!  Natasha!  Twins!”  You said excitedly as the tech started to do a series of measurements.

“They’re okay, right?”  Bucky asked.  “There's nothing wrong with then, is there?”

The tech didn't say anything for a moment, she just continued her measurements.  Natasha thought Clint was going to pass out the longer the tech went without saying anything.

“Everything looks fine.  The babies are the right size going off when you said you conceived.  Their heartbeats are strong.  Nothing to worry about.  Being pregnant with twins does up the risk factors but your ObGyn will go over everything with you.”  She explained.  “Did you want to hear the heartbeats?”

“Yes!”  All four of you said at once making the tech laugh.  She flicked a switch and the room was filled with the woosh-woosh sound of the babies' hearts.

As the sound of their hearts echoed through the room it felt like Natasha's heart had stopped.  She's gone from not thinking she’d ever get to have a child to expecting two and she had never been happier in her life.  It was a feeling that so strong she didn't quite recognize it and it hurt a little because she knew how fragile it was.

“Oh my god, Tasha!  That's them!” You said.

“I know, zaika,” Natasha said, pressing her lips to the top of your head.  “I love them already.”

The tech took the wand away and printed out some pictures to take home.  They really didn’t look like much, but Natasha had never wanted to protect something as fiercely as she did right now.

“They look like little peanuts,”   Bucky said, looking at the photo.

“And I’m the oven that’s roasting them.”  You joked.

Clint chuckled.  “Two little oven-roasted peanuts.  “Seeing them is surreal, huh?  I was so happy to hear their heartbeats.”

Bucky wrapped his arm around Clint's waist and kissed his cheek.  “Yeah.  Me either.  It’s exciting.  I wonder if they’re boys or girls or one of each.”

“We’ll find out eventually.”  You said, getting down off the table.  “Gonna have to be patient.”

Clint let out a strained laugh.  “Yeah right.  Oh man, we are gonna need such a big house.”

Natasha smiled.  The image of their big farmstead with their twins running around with a cat and a dog filled her head.  This time that self-doubt about deserving it didn’t even enter her head.  She just let herself have it.  She was happy.  Really happy.  It was new and she was going to just enjoy it for a bit.

// NEXT

[gucciwins]

Te Esperé

Harry and you love each other but sometimes it is not enough

Word count: 4673

A/N: I heard this song Te Esperé by Jesse y Joy and I just loved the lyrics. This is filled with fluff and angst. I do present and flashbacks(italics mean flashback). A bit different but I loved how it turned out. This is my first time writing smut. It was a bit hard but I got through it. Writing is about always getting better. 

Hope you enjoy !

You let out a sigh as you fall onto the couch. Harry could not help but settle on top of your top of you, seeing how comfortable you look. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with this giant laying on you.

“Are you trying to kill me? It’s our first day here, and I want to live to see tomorrow.” You say in short breaths.

Harry lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” He sits up goes to sit on his own. “I’ll snuggle myself.”

“Go for it. As long as you’re not smothering me.” You tell him with a big smile.

Harry pouts and lays down gently his head on your chest. “You don’t mean that. Love my arms wrapped around you.”

He’s not wrong. You bring your hand to his and begin to run your hand through his hair. He lets out a small purr that makes you stop because Harry is just the softest human around. 

Sitting on the worn-out brown couch, you look to your left to see Harry leaning back, scrolling on his phone. You are there next to him reading Sara Gruen’s book Water for Elephants to distract you from the silence that fills the air.

Sitting next to Harry feels cold. It feels like sitting next to a stranger, and you hate it. You wish for him to cuddle you and hold you close, but it is just not the same anymore. Over time I guess your love just ran cold. It wasn’t like this. It was never like this.

You’re picking up the empty plate to take to Harry that is washing the dishes. He said he cleans because you cooked a delicious dinner. Well, you had made your famous lasagna and thought it was a big treat. He was feeling extra kind, and you decide not to argue. As you wipe the table down, you approach Harry and smile, watching him hum a song under his breath. You hop on the counter because if he is washing dishes, the least you can do is keep him company. 

“Sing for me, Harry,” You tell him with a beautiful smile on your face.

Harry has not learned to say no to you and begins to sing the familiar lyrics of your favorite song. Landslide, this song is the one you were singing in the car when he knocked on your window to tell you that you had a flat tire. You like to say that the power of Stevie Nicks brought you together. 

Harry turns off the water and dries his hands a bit quickly. Before you know it, he has his hands cupping your cheeks, and he is kissing you with so much passion you can’t help but let out a low moan that changes the calm mood you once had before. It turns passionate and needy. Not that either of you would complain.

You look down at the cup in your hand. It’s the one Gemma gifted you when you spent your first Christmas with them. It has flowers painted all around. You know you can’t give this one away. Clearing up some of the stuff slowly because you know it’s the right thing to do but it doesn’t hurt any less throwing out memories. You love Harry with everything in you, but why doesn’t it feel the same. Why does it feel as if you’re sinking, but you can only save yourself?

Harry walks in the kitchen and stops in his tracks. “What are you doing?” He says panic evident in his voice. 

“Nothing, we have too many plates and mugs. I was thinking of taking some to Goodwill.” You look at him, and he seems a bit more relaxed. 

“Oh, love. That’s fine. I thought-” He cut himself off before he could say more. 

You know what he’s thinking. You’ve thought about doing it before. It sucks that you’ve thought that but how do you make this work. The love is there, but how does one begin to show it again. 

The kitchen was one of your favorite places to spend time with Harry because you always fill it with music and laughter, but now it’s quite as if someone died. In this case, it feels as your love has. You both are just too stubborn to let go

You get up from sitting on the couch with Harry and move towards the window. You gently push the white curtain aside and see the two young boys who live next door playing catch with each other.

It brings a smile to your face because you know that one day you’ll get to have that. You want that with Harry. As you keep looking, Harry finally gives in and approaches you from behind. He wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you tight. He leans his head on your shoulder and looks out as well.

 “Peter and Steve are very nice to each other.” He says 

“Yeah, but May said they still fight over who showers first which ends in a mud war between them both.”

You and Harry chuckled at the thought of the two boys getting filled with mud. That would be a sight to see. Getting to see Harry play and shower your kids with love is something you look forward to in your future together. You hope he does as well. 

Standing by the window hurts because you know what used to come, but now all you do is stand here alone. The neighbors moved to a different state because May got a better job offer and her husband agreed it was too good to pass up. You wanted what they had, but you don’t always get what you want.

You know Harry is watching you because you feel his eyes on the back of your head. You want him to come over and wrapped his arms around you. To remind you he loves you and cares. Too bad your left there hoping and dreaming for something that will not happen. He stands, and you tense for a second. He walks down the hallway and up to his room. 

You make your way to your bedroom when a photo on a drawer captures your attention. It is Harry and you. You are smiling at the camera, holding a bouquet of pink camellias, and Harry has a massive smile on his face look over at you. This photo is full of love, but where is it now.

"The bed is amazing. I dread getting up from it in the morning," Harry says.

You sit up and look over at him. "I thought I made it hard to get out of bed."

"uh.." Harry stutters for a few seconds. "You're always included when I talk about the bed."

You move and straddle his lap one leg on each side. You lean down close nose to nose. Your lips are brushing gently. "Am I or am I not included because it would hurt my feelings if you just missed the bed." You say softly moving your hips over the hardening dent in his shorts.

His breath cuts short because he knows the game you're playing, and he loves it. Loves when you take control and make him earn your attention and affection in the places he wants it most.

"Well, love my place in life, will always be right next to you." Harry closes the gap between your lips. You forget everything as you get drowned in the love that is filling the air.

You lay on the left side of the bed, ready for bed questioning when was the last time he cuddled you. Was it just last week, or has it honestly been months? When did you stop craving each other? 

Harry rolls into bed not long after and shifts so he's not facing you. You're tempted to turn over and pulled him close. He has always loved being the little spoon. You know you don't have the guts to do that, so you close your eyes, hoping your heart doesn't betray you and let you start crying. 

It's a new day you repeat to yourself over and over again hoping that when you wake up tomorrow, it'll be as if nothing has changed, but you know better. Tomorrow will be the day you leave. You hope you both can heal with time.

As you walk through the hallway of your shared home, you stop to look at the pictures that have been put up. Each one always makes you smile. One of your favorites is from Anne's birthday where Anne smiled with frosting over her lips and right behind her; you stand with Harry. Your left hand is reaching up to feed him a chocolate cake. Instead of getting his mouth, you get his nose, and he has the most shocked face, it makes you laugh. Your eyes crinkled and nose scrunched up. Harry swears you have never looked more beautiful.

Each picture tells a story, and you're glad Harry insisted on putting up many around the house. You hear Harry yell your know name from the kitchen which causes you to freeze for a few seconds.

"You drank the last Ginger Ale!" Harry exclaims his steps are getting louder.

"Oops" You reply not feeling sorry.

"I'm going to get you." He shouts with no real anger in his voice.

You start to make a run for it too late because you hear his steps. You are about to go up the stairs a hand wraps around your waist and spins you around. You can't help the yell that comes out that quickly turns into laughter. He sets you down gently and leans you against a wall.

He leans in close like a predator who was about to devour his prey. His places gentle kisses on your neck that stop you from moving. You feel your breathing get heavy. He bites a mark in your neck, and you let out a moan that sends chills through your entire body.

Harry leans down and picks you up. He holds you tight by your thighs and keeps kissing down your neck. He stops right above your breast.

"Oh, darling. I want to eat you up" His words are meant to be sexual, but you can't help but let out a giggle.

Harry pouts at you because he wanted to hear another moan and not a laugh although you have the best laugh in the world.  

"Baby," He whines.

"H, let's go upstairs, and I'll give you everything you want."

Harry smirks and pulls away from the wall, still holding you. He walks toward the living room and not upstairs.

"Our couch is looking a little lonely, so I'm going to take you right here."

You’re walking away from Harry. The once filled hallway is now empty. The pictures have been taken down over time and never got replaced. It makes you want to cry, but why waste your time on that. 

Harry yelled your name, asking you to stop walking away from him. You stop but don’t turn around. If you turn around, you’ll cave, and you’ll stay more time suffering in this hurt. Your love has stopped, but your heart feels like it’s on fire.  It’ll take time. You both need to heal.

“Why do you want to leave?” He asks harshly 

“Look around you. This house doesn’t feel like home anymore. It lost its color, the spark.” You cry, wanting him to listen.

“We can fix it. It’ll take time, but we can do it.” Harry pleads. 

“This has been going on for too long.” 

“I love you, isn’t that enough.” He’s crying now.

You turn around no point in hiding your tears. “It is not anymore. We’re broken, and we don’t know who we are anymore.”

“Let’s talk,” He sighs. “Let’s really talk.”

He takes your hand and guides you to the couch. Except you don’t make it there. You collapse in each other’s arms right in front. You both feel the pain and love. You turn your head to the left, and your eyes see the couch. The couch holds the most special memories. 

“I can’t believe your mom bought us a couch,” Harry exclaimed.

“She said it’s a gift. One that she hopes is but to good use.” You laugh looking at the note with it because in small letters she wrote a tip for stain removal and underlined on working on everything.

Harry wasted no time before laying down and sighing because it felt excellent on his back. He motions for you to come as well, and you try to tell him no. If you say yes, you’ll never make dinner. You begin walking away when Harry let out the most prominent pout.

“Love, your mom bought it for us to share. It’s not comfortable alone.” He makes grabby hands at you, and you sigh.

You go to sit on the couch when Harry grabs your waist and pulls you to lay on top of him.

“Harry, this isn’t the couch.”

“No,” he answers, “It’s better.”

You’re not going to argue with him because he is right. He’s the most comfortable person. Makes you feel safe and warm wrapped up in his arms. You lay your head on his chest, and you’re lulled to sleep with his steady heartbeat.

You slept although the night safe and sound in each other’s arms.

You pull away. You’re not sure after how long, but you both stopped crying. The room is silent as you both listen to your quiet sniffles. Harry squeezes you tight. 

“We love each other.” He whispers, voice a bit raspy. “I know we can make it.”

You don’t want to say anything. You can’t give Harry false hope. What you can give him is one last sleep in your shared bed. The bedroom that was once filled with love, lust, and custom Gucci. 

You stand up and offer him your hand. “Let’s go to bed. Please.” You beg him.

Harry takes your hand leads the way up the stairs. He pulls the covers back and lays on his side. You make your way to lay next to him when he pulls you on top of him. 

“Keep me warm.” 

That small sentence cracks your heart. It’s what Harry would tell you when he had been away for a while and wanted comfort.

Friday, after a long week of work, you drag yourself up to the bedroom to undress and get ready for a bath. Harry should be home in two days, and you want to be relaxed and available for him meaning you are getting work for the next few days out of the way. 

Just as you’re settling in the bathtub your phone rings, you let out a groan because you left it in the bedroom hoping to use this time to do some reading. You decide you’ll get up to get it if it rings two more times. 

Waiting to hear the sound but all you hear is the tiny sound of a message coming arriving. You settle back and enjoy the warmth of the water. 

“Baby, no wonder you didn’t answer my call.” Harry’s sweet voice breaks the silence you had in the bathroom.

His voice startles you, and you drop your book to the side of the bathtub. You are stunned to see him but also a little upset you got your book a bit wet. 

“H, you’re home early.” You look up at him with a big smile.

“Decided I comeback since everything got done quick. If I got time to spend with you, I want as much as I can get.” You blush at his kind words.

“Get in with me.” You tell him. “I just got in, so it’s still warm.”

He kneels and presses his soft lips to yours. You let out a sweet hum as he pulls away. 

“You enjoy this. I got a few things to unpack.” 

He gives you one more kiss, but before standing up, he gives you breast a gentle caress. It makes you let out a small giggle. “Stop that. Don’t play with me. They missed you.”

Harry smirks at your words. “Oh, darling, I know they did. I’m going to take good care of them once you’re out,”

You finished your bath and got out feeling fresh and clean but also a little excited about what was waiting for you in the bedroom. 

Harry was lying in the center of the bed, scrolling on his phone until he heard you come in. He placed it on the brown new nightstand on his side of the bed that hadn’t been used much since you moved in.

“Well darling, aren’t you a beauty to look at.” He flashed you that dimpled smile that always left you blushing. This time no different.

You looked at yourself in a small mirror you were standing next too and gave a small smile. Your hair was a mess. Currently looked messy and full of knots. You wrapped yourself in a pink towel that Anne gave you as a housewarming gift it was soft and your new favorite. 

Harry was quick to get up and stand behind you. He put his hands on your hips and moved his hands towards your chest as if warning you; he was going to take off the towel and giving you a choice to stop him. You smiled at the mirror, allowing him to carry on. The towel fell to the floor without a sound. Harry didn’t bother to try to hide the smile that came on his face as he saw your naked body.

He wasn’t even touching you, and you felt like you were buzzing. He was admiring what was his. 

“As much as I want to touch you in front of this mirror, I would prefer you on your back, screaming my name.”

You let out a moan at his words. “Gosh H, know exactly what a girl wants to hear.”

He leans in close. He gently bites your neck, making sure to leave a reminder. A reminder that you were his as much as he was yours. “Not any girl, baby. Just you.” 

In the next few seconds you’re laying on the bed, and Harry is crawling on top of you fully naked but very much ready.

“As much as I want to slip myself right in, got to get your tight hole ready for me.” You moan out his name, just wanting him to do something, anything at this point. 

Harry wants to give his girl the pleasure she deserves, but he is craving release as well. He slides his index and middle finger into your aching heat. Harry lets out a small growl when he feels how wet you are for him. A cry falls from your lips, as he works his fingers in and out of you. He curls his fingers in deep, and that makes you arch your back. You want to let out a moan, but it dies on your lips as Harry adds a third finger. The pleasure is too much. You know you will explode soon if Harry doesn’t slow down. Harry knows your body, every stretch mark, every cure, and he is not stopping until you come.

“Let go for me, baby. Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“Shit, Harry.” You whisper. “I need you to fuck me.”

Harry stops making you feel disappointed as the pleasure has stopped. He wants to bring you to your release, but his and your needs are louder and stronger.

“I promise after I am finished loving on you, I’m going to love you a bit more in between these beautiful thighs.” He places a small kiss on your stomach that makes you let out a soft giggle. Harry brings his hand to his mouth and sucks each finger one by one. 

“Oh baby, always taste so sweet.” He smirks at you. “Have some pineapple, lately.”

You smack his chest lightly but have to laugh because he knows your body well. “It was a kiwi. Have craved lots of it lately.”

“My sweet girl, always thinking of me.”

The talking is over as quick as it started. Harry spreads your legs a little further, and he guides himself right into your heat. You never forget how big Harry is because the stretch he gives you is one that always leaves you craving more.

Harry lets out a satisfied groan. You can’t remember the last time you and Harry were this intimate. The last time you spent time together, it had been minimal that only allowed you to give Harry a gift of your mouth and he was deeply disappointed he didn’t return the favor. 

Harry kisses you. It’s a hard kiss, one that says I’m home and I will always be yours. You reach your left hand to rest on Harry’s short curls. As Harry gives you a hard thrust, one that leaves you gasping you pull his hair. He stops for a second, then gives it to you even harder. 

“Again, baby.” He’s out of breath, but he is nowhere near stopping. “You know how much I love it.” 

He brings his left hand down to your center and begins to rub your clit. He knows your close but lets you know he wants you to hold it. You don’t know how much resistance you have left. You pull Harry down towards you, his lips on your neck. Your nails are digging into his back, leaving red, angry marks behind. You release a soft moan. A tell sign to Harry that you won’t hold on much longer. 

You raise your head to bruise Harry with your lips. His hold on you tightens. Your arms wrapped around him; this is it. 

Against your lips, he whispers, “Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You’re both on edge. It washes over you as your back arches and forces you to be closer to Harry than you already were. Harry lets out a groan one that leaves you smiling, knowing this was fast and hot, but it was exactly what you needed. 

Harry rests his head on your breasts, making sure to slip out of you slowly. You run your fingers through his hair, making him let out a deep sigh. He knows he has to clean you up but wants to enjoy this moment. The moment of two people in love syncing up their heartbeats as if there was no time away. 

“Keep me warm, my love.” He whispers.

“Always, Harry. Always.”

Laying in bed with Harry, his arms wrapped around you. It felt nice as if nothing had been going wrong between the two of you. You lay there awake knowing tomorrow would but it would not be a resolution Harry wanted, but it is the one you needed. 

You got out of bed and looked at Harry. He looked beautiful, young, and full of life. Maybe, you were the problem. At this point, you didn't know what your downfall was. You did know you will have to step away for some time.

You walked into the closest and made as little noise as possible. You were packing, you weren't sure for how long but gathered your necessities. Your hand hovered over the sweater Harry gave to you the first time you visited London. You know Harry wouldn't know what you left and took but leaving it behind felt wrong. This relationship has not reached its end, or at least you hope it hasn't.

You held hope for you and Harry, but the timing is wrong. You zip up the suitcase and a duffel bag and take it downstairs. Within the next ten minutes, you're all packed and ready to go.

Go where? You still didn't know.

Maybe Oregon, like you dreamed as a little girl. 

You were changed and ready to go when Harry made it down to the kitchen. 

"Mornin' love," He speaks softly.

"Harry, I'm leaving." You don't beat around the bush.

He looks confused. Heartbroken.

"But, we said we'd work it out."

"I feel that we aren't giving each other the love we deserve." You sigh, wanting to go over and comfort Harry.

He stares at you. He knows he won't be able to change your mind. He wants to make you stay. He wants to scream at you not to leave him. 

"You're it for me. You know that." His voice cracks. "You've always known that." 

You nod and step forward. You step as close asHarry lets you. Harry doesn't stop you; he craves your touch right now. You lift your right hand gently to rest on his cheek. He's looking at you heartbroken but with so much understanding. 

"Our love is written in the stars. I know you will always be the one for me, but we need time away to be that person we fell in love with." He nods. A tear runs down his cheek.

"We'll find our way back to each other." Harry lets out a small whimper as if your words hurt him. 

"And if we don't." He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight. He knows when he lets go, you'll leave. 

"Amor," At the special nickname Harry knows he can't stop the tears. Amor, the nickname that holds precious memories. Your first trip to Mexico together after a few months of dating because the taxi driver said your love is beautiful. The moment when you introduced him to your family as Amor. "Soulmates, that is what we are." 

He nods, knowing it's true. He knew it the moment he met you. You're his, and he is yours — time apart to find yourself because somehow you managed to lose yourself while being here the whole time. 

"I don't know how long it'll be. It could be days, weeks, or months but I promise we'll both feel it in our hearts when it's time." You don't do anything to stop your tears. 

You hold him tight. You don't want to let go, but you do. You pull away. Enough to have him pull you back in and you give yourself this moment.

He pulls his head from resting in your neck to bring his lips to yours. This kiss is full of promise and love. You feel it in your bones. You feel that bond that ties you together. You can't pull away. Harry pulled away very slowly where you feel your breaths on each other's lips. 

Eyes closed but a heart open. 

"You'll always keep me warm no matter how far I am." He cries. 

You step back. You turn your back to Harry and open the door. You don't turn around to face him because you know you'll stay if you do.

"I love you." Strong and loud. Not like anything, you are feeling right now. It's what you both need to hear. 

You walk straight to your car, and as your about to get in, you hear it — a shout.

"I love you!" 

Stay safe. Stay strong. I miss you. I need you. 

You wrap those words tight around you. 

Seat belt. Turn the car on. Put it in drive. Accelerate.

Harry watches you drive away. His heart is going with you, but yours is staying with him. He doesn't move to go inside the house. His car keys in hand. He sits on the steps that lead to the front door. He doesn't want to go back inside because that house is not a home without you. 

Harry knows you're not coming back; he wants to sit there all night. Harry knows he shouldn't. So, he doesn't. He gets in his car and drives. 

Harry drives away from the memories of you and your home. 

When the time is right, you'll both return and fill that home like it deserves to be.

Full of love, laughter, and life.

~~~

Read part two here <--

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED AND APPRECIATED

[jiminiessipabo]

I, Spy (Series, AU)

Chapter Two: The Interrogation 

Pairing: CEO! Park Jimin x reader Word Count: 1.9k Genre: au, ceo!, action, heist Warnings: explicit, smut (eventually), language, violence, drugs

Jimin could feel the smooth, velvety feel of a blindfold tied around his head, blocking any light and sight. He tried to get a bearing of where he was but it was hard without his sight. There was no smell in the air other than metal. He tried to move his hands from his awkward position but found they were chained up and resting on a cool, metallic table. The chains were loud as the clanged against the table. He couldn’t hear anything else. There was no one in the room with him. He was alone.

There were a rush of memories from the night before, or perhaps it was still the same night. He had no idea how long he was unconscious for. He could remember the beautiful red dress he saw you wearing last night. He remembered how he followed you around, danced with you, drank with you and laughed with you. It was one of the best nights of his life. He felt as though he couldn’t get enough of you, but evidently, that was his biggest downfall, trusting a stranger. Moments before he became unconscious, he remembered the look of concern on your face, your hand in his. The alcohol was making him feel hot all over. He remembered looking up at you with a dizzy yet euphoric feeling, you were so beautiful to him and he knew everyone at the event agreed with him, he had watched how their eyes had followed you, just as he had. When you looked back at him, just before he fell, you had given him a smile. He didn’t recognise the type of smile at that moment, but looking back now…He knew you had given him a smile filled with guilt and pity.

You seemed so good, so why were you doing this to him? Why did you drug him? Lie to him? What did he do to deserve such cruelty?

Jimin’s thoughts were broken as he heard the creaking of a door open before a loud slam followed. He jumped, his senses heightened, he listened carefully as he heard the pair of feet tap against the floor, walking closer to him. The second pair of steps belonged to someone wearing heels. He tensed, he could smell a familiar smell, almost rose scented with a hint of ginger. It was you.

“Park Jimin, 23, CEO of Park Enterprises, successor to his father, Park Jaehyun. He has an older brother who works in the Armed Police Force as well,” said a male voice, if he wasn’t in this position then Jimin would suggest he sounds like a man who was earthly, with his deep, guttural tone that was oddly calming. He heard the heels walk around the back of him, two hands resting on the back of the metal chair he was sat on. “I think he is the perfect candidate to use, Y/N,” said the man and also confirming Jimin’s suspicions that it was you. At least you gave him your real name. “He has connections that could make this whole operation quick and easy. It’ll be a simple mission for our team.”

Jimin frowned as much as he could at the man’s words. He was part of a mission now? Were these people part of law enforcement? It couldn’t be the police or he wouldn’t have mentioned Haechan, his brother, the way he had. Jimin wanted to speak up, but the threat that you were giving off, even from silently standing behind him, was enough to keep him from talking.

“Thank you, Taehyung, I will take it from here,” you replied, your voice solemn. You waited until Taehyung exited the room before ripping the blindfold from Jimin’s head, the light immediately hurting his eyes. By the time he had blinked enough to adjust to the sudden lighting he found himself staring across from you, who was now sat down opposite him. His eyes scanned your face, from the minimal makeup, to the now tied up hair, to the black, formal dress you wearing. You cocked a perfectly arched eyebrow at his scrutiny before smirking, amused at the expressions on his face. “Hello Jimin,” you said.

Jimin clenched his jaw, leaning forwards in his seat. “Let me go, now, I am not getting caught up in any schemes you criminals are trying to force on to me,” he said with clear venom in his tone. He scowled as the smirk on your face turned into a full smile. “What is so amusing to you?” He snapped.

You let out a small chuckle and brought his attention to the files on the table. “Haechan knows you’re here, we have surveillance on you 24/7, he watched as you slept in that chair, with no one else in this room to cause any harm to you,” you said, pointing to the left of you and sure enough, in the left corner on the ceiling was camera with a flash red light, showing it was recording. “There were certain rules we had to abide by to make sure your kidnapping went smoothly. I am aware of your allergies, I am aware of any mental health disabilities you have. Your brother is surprisingly very helpful, considering back in the day when I went to high school with him, he was a huge jerk,” you said with another chuckle at the end. Your eyes were narrowed down at the papers in the manila file.

Jimin was stumped by this knowledge. He didn’t know whether to feel slightly safer that his brother was watching him or betrayed that his brother would put him in this position. There is obviously the other thought that this could all be an elaborate lie and his brother has no knowledge of his kidnapping.

“I’m not lying, Jimin, I would never betray your brother like that,” you said as though reading his mind. “Now, I am Y/N L/N, my official title is Recruitment Officer and I work for ARMY, Advanced Reconnaissance for Mistreated Youths. You are still in Seoul, and you were knocked unconscious with a normal sedative, there are no weird enhancements like I know are going through your head-.” Jimin was astounded at how well you knew him after those short hours. “-and you are completely free to go once this meeting is over with.”

Jimin scoffed and lifted his arms up. “I attend a lot of meetings, even at my young age and never once has anyone been chained to a damn table in a containment room,” he replied, his tone edged with plentiful sarcasm.

You smiled and took a key from the manila folder, reaching over to unlock his chains. You sat back and watched as he rubbed at his wrists. You sighed, hating how your firm thought things through. “Jimin, look, I am going to be very honest with you, there is a bad man you are connected to and we need an insider for us. All you have to do is wear a mic piece and a body camera, both well-hidden and continue being nice with this man until we can gather enough evidence on him,” you said, your joyful façade breaking into one of weariness.

Jimin frowned, still looking down at his wrists. “Who is this man?” He asked, his tone betraying his curiosity.

You pulled out a few papers from one of the other manila folders, unclipping two of the pages before turning it around so he could see the face of the man he had come to trust. “Rufus Conway, the American,” he muttered under his breath before looking back up at you. “Why do you want him?”

You pursed your lips, turning the page and pointed at three photos. Jimin gasped, they were photos of- “He is a Kingpin of sorts, he deals in drugs, ammunition, and to our disgust, slavery and prostitution,” you spat out. “That’s three girls that we have recovered from them, two of which are now working with us. They have allowed us to share their identity in order to capture and imprison Rufus Conway,” you explained. You turned the page again. “We have suspicion that he is about to use your company to smuggle more girls over, I would rethink your plans to go ahead with your project, Jimin,” you said.

Jimin gulped and nodded, his eyes still reading the words on the pages. He felt sick, that he was about to embrace a man like this into his company. He looked up at you and saw the sadness on your face as much as you tried to hide it; you weren’t fond of looking at this file. “If I were to help you, what would be in it for me? Safety? Anonymity? Because it sounds like you’re asking me to risk a lot of things for this operation, my money, my company, my legacy and my life.” The entire time Jimin spoke he watched how you took his words deeply, nodding where appropriate and not once arguing or cutting him off. He felt equal to you, almost comfortable with you, just like before.

You placed your hands flat on the table and leaned forwards. “I am prepared to make sure you come out of this unscathed and with a clear conscience Jimin. I don’t want to involve you but we need you, now more than ever. We just need that little push to finally prosecute him. We have the lawyers working on cases already. It’s all ready to be launched. We just need you to be there when he confesses,” you explained as gently as you could. “You won’t be alone either,” you added, smiling at him.

Jimin furrowed his eyebrows, taking your words into consideration. “I won’t be alone?” He parroted, with a tilt of his head. “Who else is going to be with me?” He found himself asking, as though he had already agreed.

“You’re going to hire a new assistant, and you’re going to need a bodyguard. You were just kidnapped, by a man named Al Bbeck, it’s all over the news,” you said, a smile now on your face but Jimin wasn’t laughing.

“You think kidnapping me is funny, uh uh, I am furious that I am even in this position. I want proof that my brother knows I am here, I want to see him,” Jimin demanded, slamming his palm on the table making you jump, he almost felt guilty but his anger was getting the best of him.

You sighed and shook your head, collecting the manila file up also picking up the handcuffs and key. “I hope you agree to do this,” you murmured, not quite looking him in the eye before banging on the door. You looked back just as the door opened, not acknowledging the man on the other side holding it open. “For what it’s worth Jimin, I really would have loved to go back home with you, to really get to know you,” you said with a sincere smile before bowing your head.

The man holding the door open narrowed his eyes at Jimin before slamming the door shut, leaving Jimin to stand in the cold room alone. He eyed the room and saw a bed with a blanket and small pillow on it and huffed. “This is just great, who the hell is Al B Beck as well?” He questioned out loud before snorting at the famous Terminator quote. “Definitely youthful,” he grumbled before sitting on the edge of the bed, his head hitting the wall as he slumped back.