#the noise i made when i realised she'd done it

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Seven - No Weaknesses

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.7K words

Because of how I've made the character of Carlos' mother, I didn't want to use her real name. That is why she is called Mrs Sainz (or Señora sainz)

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Oscar had his own room in Carlos’ house. He had yet to actually sleep in it though.

So far, Oscar had just used his room to store his clothes and to get changed. The bed was perfectly made from where he hadn’t yet slept in it. When Y/N found this out, she assumed it was unintentional, that he just fell asleep while he was watching over her.

And that was partially true. Oscar did fall asleep while he was protecting her. But he allowed himself to. he let himself fall asleep while he was in Y/N’s room. Carlos had brought it up to her over a game of chess, he knew, and had told her that he had men stationed outside of her room.

Well, that didn’t help to comfort her. It didn’t comfort Oscar, either. On the rare instance that he left Y/N’s room (which would only be for twenty minutes, at most) he made sure to level Carlos’ men with a piercing stare.

After two weeks of being in Carlos’ house, a week after Lando had flown home, Y/N had an unexpected visitor at her bedroom door. She’d knocked before with Carlos and Oscar had answered the door then. The stare she gave him was more terrifying that anything Carlos had done to him, and Oscar found himself stepping to the side. “Good choice,” Carlos mumbled as he walked past him.

This time, Carlos’ mother came alone. Oscar didn’t know how to address the woman, so he just stepped to the side and let her into the room.

“Who is it, Osc?” Asked Y/N when she didn’t hear him say anything. Sat at her vanity, she had a book open in front of her. It was one she had brought with her from the UK.

Mrs Sainz cleared her throat. That was how she was known in the family, just as those who worked for the Norris family called Y/N’s mother Mrs Norris when she was alive. Y/N looked up at the mirror. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t Carlos’ mother.

Suddenly Y/N was on her feet. “Mrs Sainz!” She said, in way of greeting. Mrs Sainz didn’t smile when she looked at her.

“We have work to do before the wedding,” she said, hands clasped together. “You are spending the day with me.”

Y/N nodded her head. “Come,” said Mrs Sainz. She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving Y/N to follow her. Oscar went to follow as well, but Mrs Sainz gave him a look and he stopped. She kept staring at him until he retreated back into the room.

“He follows you around like a dog,” Mrs Sainz spat as she led Y/N through the house.

“He means well,” Y/N replied. “He’s just doing as Lando asked him.”

Mrs Sainz made a noise of disapproval as she went down the stairs. She didn’t say more on the matter as she took Y/N into a room that could only have been called the parlour.

The chairs in the parlour were covered with white dresses. Wedding dresses, Y/N realised as she looked at all of them. In the middle of the room was a seamstress, setting up her things. "Today we are going to find you a dress," said Mrs Sainz.

"But I already have a dress," Y/N said, somewhat timidly.

Mrs Sainz made that same disapproving noise. "Not good enough for my son," she muttered and walked over to the first dress, picking it up.

Y/N had never been to a Mafia wedding before. They'd happened in her lifetime, sure, but she'd never been. She didn't know what to expect on her own wedding day. She knew she'd have very little control over the wedding, but she thought she'd be able to control the dress.

Suddenly Y/N began welling up. She sank to her knees and let the tears flow freely. "Enough of that, stupid girl," said Mrs Sainz as Y/N continued to cry.

But she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop the sobs as she furiously wiped under her eyes. Her breathing was becoming difficult as she pulled her legs closer to her chest.

Arms grabbed her own and Y/N was forcibly pulled to her feet. "Oh, estúpida y estúpida!" Shouted Mrs Sainz. Her hand was raised and, for a moment, Y/N thought she was going to slap her. "You are going to be a part of the Sainz family! You can't be seen showing weakness!"

Y/N wiped away her tears and tried to suppress her sobs. Mrs Sainz grabbed a hold of the nearest dress and passed it to Y/N. She gave her no choice in the matter, making her try on every single one.

None of the dresses were close to the dress Y/N had chosen for herself.  When Y/N tried to voice her opinions on the dresses, Mrs Sainz would quickly shut her up and turn her attention to the seamstress. The women spoke in Spanish, leaving Y/N standing there without an inkling as to what was going on.

Mrs Sainz had her wearing every single dress. If she gave her opinions, they were in Spanish. The seamstress worked on every dress she tried on, often times poking Y/N with the sharp needles. If she expressed pain, Mrs Sainz would sharply shut her up. Whicher dress was her favourite, Y/N wasn’t sure. After Y/N had tried them all on Mrs Sainz pushed her out of the room, shutting the door in her face so that she could discuss things with the seamstress alone.

As soon as Y/N was out of the room, she leaned against the nearest wall and let out a breath. She’d been poked so many times with a needle she didn’t know how she wasn’t bleeding. She threw her head back and shut her eyes, savouring the moment alone.

Y/N pushed away from the wall and walked down the corridor. She just wanted to get back to her room and sleep until tomorrow.  

As Y/N walked past the doors that led out to the patio, Y/N stopped. She couldn’t help but watch him as he swam in the pool, wet hair pushed back on his head and his tanned skin glistening. She didn’t know what it was, but something compelled her to walk forwards, to push open the doors and step out onto the patio.

Carlos stopped swimming. He rested his arms on the pool ledge. Neither of them said anything, Y/N waiting for Carlos to say something and Y/N not sure what to say.

As soon as she stepped outside, Y/N went to turn back around. “Wait,” came Carlos’ voice, stopping her in her tracks. “Stay.”

Y/N did just that. She pulled off her shoes and socks and sat on the pool ledge, her feet in the water. Still, they didn’t say anything. Y/N watched him as he went back to swimming, doing laps up and down the pool.

Was this what the rest of her life was going to be? Sitting there quietly while Carlos did what he wanted? That wasn’t the life her mother lived and it wasn’t the life Mrs Sainz lived.

Y/N played with the skin around her nails, in her peripheral vision she watched as Carlos pulled himself out of the pool, muscles visible to whoever might have been watching (aka, Y/N). She kept her legs in the water as Carlos walked behind her and grabbed his towel.

“Can I ask you something?” Asked Y/N in a moment of bravery.

“Of course,” said Carlos as he sat and used the towel to dry his hair.

Y/N sucked in a breath. Brave. She needed to be brave. “I… What’s expected of me?” She asked. “When I am your wife, what is expected of me?”

Carlos looked across the patio at her. His towel was around his shoulders, and he ran his fingers through his hair. Carlos had taken time to think about it since his father told him of the marriage, since it was purely to benefit the families. There were a few things expected of every mafia wife. She was expected to stand by her husband’s side and give him children. Whether this went to the point that it did with Y/N’s mother, where she was as in charge as her husband was, that was yet to be seen.

“Once we are married, we are to have children,” he answered.

“Oh,” Y/N mumbled before he could continue with his listed. She hadn’t thought about this, hadn’t thought about having his children. Maybe Y/N didn’t realise that this was a part of a mafia wife’s life. She had never had sex before, and the thought was giving her enough anxiety already. But, you throw children into the mix? That was a whole different kettle of fish.

Carlos continued. “You will no longer be loyal to the Norris family and your loyalties will lie with me.”

Y/N knew this bit. She had been mentally preparing herself for this, for when she was to say goodbye to the family she had grown up in. “Will I get to visit my brother?” She asked and kicked her legs slowly, moving them through the water.

He took his time answering this one. With the declining health of Norris, it was something he and his father had been discussing. As Carlos had said at the dinner in the Norris, he was happy for Y/N to go home for her father’s funeral for a week or two. Of course, he was going to have to send one of two of his men with her, to make sure she stayed safe and didn’t… slip up.

“Yes,” Carlos answered. “You will join me on… business trips. Your brother will be attending this business trips and that is when you will see him,” he said.

“What about my father?”

“We will discuss this when the time comes,” he said.

“But-”

“When the time comes,” Carlos said and stood from his seat. With his towel still around his shoulders he walked into his house, pulling the doors shut behind him.

Y/N stayed in the pool, hot sun beating down on her. But Y/N didn’t care. She looked down in the water, at the colourful tiles at the bottom of the pool. If she wasn’t already terrified for the life of a Mafia wife, she was now.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @ashy-kit @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

[thelov3lybookworm]

Nothing Like I Do

Summary: Y/n and Azriel have been friends for centuries now, having run away together during his escape from his father's house. She had been his neighbour's daughter, whose father wasn't much better. They had talked and met on various occasions before, having understood each others pain.

As she returned from the last mission that Cassian had given her in the stead of Rhys, she had decided that she was going to confess her feelings for the Shadowsinger. But when she returns, she realises that even though he has moved on from Mor, he isn't without someone. As she tries to navigate her way to telling him of her feelings, she wonders if she's risking her friendship with him.

A/n: I really like how this came out, feedback is always appreciated. Also, this is my first time writing Y/n instead of a name, so let me know if theres some need of correction.

And the lines written in blue are the lyrics which made me want to write this. I've honestly been waiting to write this since the song came out, but as i was writing you deserve better, I wanted to wait. And the lyrics aren't in chronological order, just placed where convenient.

•○🌑○•

As she flew over the glittering Sidra and the colourful lights lighting the shops, Y/n took a deep breath in an attempt to settle her nerves. She'd be returning home after almost a decade and she'd finally be meeting her friends.

She was half Illyrian just like Rhys, her father being the one with the wings. He and her mother had wed when his father had arranged a marriage for them.

As she landed on one of the balconies of the House of Wind and vanished her wings away, the nervousness came back with a vengeance. Walking in, she heard noises coming from a nearby sitting room. She smiled. They hadn't changed one bit, being as noisy as ever.

Y/n knew that the High Lord had found his mate, and that, after the war, the they had been blessed with a son. Other than that, she knew nothing about what had happened during the time she had been away.

Her heart beating in her ears, she slowly pushed the door open, poking her head in. Rhys was already staring at her, having known someone had entered the shield around the house. But this, he hadn't expected.

"Hello." Y/n squeaked, before clearing her throat and entering fully.

Hit me like a shot in the heart

Never should have played you so hard

Guess I played myself, that's my fault

Azriel was out of his chair and tackling her in a hug before she could blink. The breath was knocked out of her from the force of his body colliding with hers. It took her a moment to wrap her arms around him as well, mindful of his wings. She smiled at the ceiling.

She had missed this.

When he finally pulled away, grinning, she was yet again pulled into another hug, this time by a laughing Cassian. She nearly lost her footing. When he let go, Rhys smiled at her, giving her a far more gentler hug than his brothers.

As she finished hugging him, her eyes found that of Mor's, shooting an instant spike of self consciousness through her.

As always, Mor was dressed immaculately, with her hair done as if she was attending some celebration. While Y/n looked just out of a battle. In her fighting leathers, her hair almost completely out of the loose braid hanging down her back.

And all of that reminded her of the fact that the male she had always been in love with was in love with Mor.

Hit me like a poisonous dart

You wеre trouble right from the start

Should havе ran, I guess it's my fault

Her spirits were already down as Rhys introduced her to the new additions to the family. She excused herself, saying she wanted to take a bath, but before she left, Y/n crouched in front of Feyre and baby Nyx, who was trying to grab a piece of her hair.

As he babbled at her, she babbled right back, making him exclaim in happiness, trying to jump around on his mother's lap. When he started making grabby hands at her, she was shocked because as far as she knew, it takes quite some time for babies to get used to strangers, let alone pick them up.

She stared helplessly at Nyx. Sure, she was good with kids, but only when she wasn't holding them, never really having held a baby. The one time she did, everything went wrong.

She stared at her new baby brother with wide eyes, before looking up at her mother. "Can I hold him?"

"Yes Y/n." Her mother instructed her how to sit on the bed,placing the little bundle in her lap. Little Y/n couldn't look away, her jaw open in awe.

"He's so small." Y/n mumbled when the door flew open, loudly crashing against the wall, making her jump, jostling her brother in the process. She turned to look at who it was, the colour draining from her face.

Her father.

He looked furious. He had wanted her to stay away from the little boy, and when she had begged to know why, he had hit her. She still didn't understand why her father had wanted that. She also didn't understand why he hated her so much. Maybe it was because she asked too many questions? Whatever the reason, he didn't like her and had told her she was to stay away.

In her haste to get off the bed, she forgot, for a moment, that a baby was in her lap. Before he could get hurt, though, both her parents were there, her mother cradling the baby to her chest, trying to get Y/n behind her. It didn't help as Y/n's father had already grabbed hold of her arm, dragging her out of the bedroom and the main door, out in the cold. When she realised where he was taking her, she started crying and screaming, begging to be forgiven this one time.

It was obviously useless. Later on she would wonder why she even bothered, but at the moment, she would have done anything to be spared from the darkness.

She was dragged into the neighboring house, where a man was staring at her in disgust. She didn't hear anything that the two Illyrians talked about, the sobbing mess that she was. Then as suddenly as her father had stopped, he began dragging her towards the stairs leading down, before she was shoved into the dungeon and the door was slammed shut, leaving her in the darkness.

It was quite some time before she could breath without hiccups, finally quieting down.

A small body settled next to hers. "What happened this time?"

Y/n said nothing for some time, wondering how just wanting to hold her brother for some time could incense her father so.

"I was holding baby brother. He didn't want me to."

She couldn't see him, but she knew he nodded.

He was her only friend, Azriel. She was often times put here with him, both their fathers being friends and taking some sick pleasure in torturing the small children, locking them up in dark places. This wasn't the first time her father had done this. The sad part was that, as far as she could remember, this had been happening forever.

Y/n felt Azriel tugging her closer, hugging her close as they tried to go to sleep on the cold and hard ground. He was her only comfortin times as this, and he will be the only one, for quite some time.

Now, after centuries, she understood why he hated her. She was a female. No other reason. And the reason he didn't want her near her brother was because he didn't want her tainting him. Atleast, that's what he said when she and Azriel had gone near there for a mission.

Y/n took a deep breath, shaking those dark thoughts away and focusing on the happy baby in front of her. She won't let those memories ruin this happy moment.

She gently picked him up, looking to Feyre for guidance. As she stood with Nyx, her eyes connected with hazel ones, full of understanding. And when Azriel smiled, it didn't seem so bad.

Sometime later in the evening, after Y/n had already changed and freshen up, she found herself sitting next to the Shadowsinger with Nyx again in her lap, shaking and waving a stuffed bat toy.

As the night wore on, Y/n found her mind wandeing to her decision to confess her feelings to the Spymaster, and how she could do it. But then, soon enough she realised, with a burst of excitement, that Azriel had already moved on from his crush on Mor.

That happiness didn't last long as she realised that the subject of those longing glances and lingering touches had been changed to the middle Archeron sister, sitting on the other side of him.

I don't even know how to think

'Cause now she got your heart, so I feel stupid, foolish

'Fraid I'm losin' everything I thought I couldn't

My whole world is fallin' apart

And she couldn't help but wonder, would she again be too late?

•○🌑○•

As she stared at them from her place on rhe first floor balcony of the River House, Y/n couldn't help the ugly feeling of jealousy that reared its head. She didn't want to feel that way, especially as the person who held her heart looked so happy.

Azriel was standing behind Elain, who was tending to a few plants in her beautiful garden.

Azriel's head swivelled towards her, his mouth open as if he had looked up mid-sentence. He smiled at her before turning back to Elain.

"You should talk to him." Nesta murmured from behind her, making Y/n jump. While she was busy wallowing in self pity and jealousy, Nesta had somehow snuck up on her.

The two of them had become fast friends, finding they had similar interests. Especially those novels. And despite Y/n not telling Nesta about her feelings towards the Spymaster, Nesta had found out.

"I don't know what to say." Her voice wavered with barely controlled emotions.

Nesta leaned against the railing next to her. "I know. But try atleast. If possible, before the party tonight. If all goes well, you can have fun with him. If not... we can find someone for you tonight. Probably try to make him jealous."

It had been two weeks since Y/n had returned, and tonight was the party Rhys had decided to host in honour of her return.

Y/n nodded. It was time. To move on with him, or without. She couldn't waste her life trying to squeeze herself into other peoples lives, hoping someone would give her some affection.

•○🌑○•

Y/n bit her lip, wondering how to approach the topic. But no elaborate words found her, especially with the Shadowsinger's full attention on her.

Don't you go fallin' in love

Trust me, she's not the one

She won't ever love you like I do

Hold you like I do, know you like I do

There was no soft and subtle way to approach this, so she jumped right in.

"Do you like Elain?"

He blinked, taken aback. "Of course I like her. I like you too." There was something in his eyes that Y/n couldn't decipher as he said the last part.

"No like– like lovers kind of like. Are you interested in her?"

His eyes shuttered as soon as he heard the question. "That's none of your business."

"Oh? And since when did the two of us have different–"

"We're both grown up now, Y/n. You have your personal matters, I have mine. Don't snoop in my life. You are a friend. Act like a friend."

Y/n couldn't help but gape at him, wondering what the hell had gone wrong between them to make him so mad at her. It was a few moments before she could speak again. And when she did, she wished she hadn't.

"Forget her Azriel. Don't go falling in love with her. Trust me she's not the one. She'll never–" Y/nstopped herself from speaking, know if she continued speaking, she won't stop and confess, and then end up most probably rejected.

"She'll never what Y/n?" He stepped closer, so close that she could feel his breath, his voice dropping dangerously. When she said nothing, he continued. "And if she's not the one, who is?" Again, there was that thing in his eyes that she couldn't understand. He searched her eyes before stepping back, shaking his head. "Don't try to control my life Y/n. It doesn't suit you."

Tears brimmed in her eyes as she watched him step out of the room she had pulled him into. Just a few moments later, Nesta poked her head in, as if she had been waiting here all this time.

"Let's get you dressed and make him regret." She murmured, tugging Y/n out of the room.

•○🌑○•

Y/n swallowed her nerves as best as she could as she stepped into the ball room, her eyes trying to find the Spymaster without her permission. But before she could see him, Nesta called out to her.

The night fared on without any issues, accept for the fact that she still hadn't found the Spymaster, good at hiding that he was. Sometime ago, a fae male had asked her to dance with him, which she was forced to accept after feeling Nesta and Mor's glares on her.

"Looks like it's time to change partners." A deep voice from behind Y/n said, sending shivers down her spine. The male glanced up, packing a little before making his exit. Finally, she turned to look at her friend, understanding why the male looked scared. Azriel looked like he was ready to do someone's head off. Or probably chew it off. His wings were slightly flared behind him in a show of power and possession, his signature scowl on his face, making him look all the more scary.

Y/n frowned at him, pissed that he had yelled at her just a few hours ago and then had the audacity to scare people away from her.

"What?" He asked after he had tugged her closer and begun swaying, still staring after the male.

"What's your problem?"

He glanced at her before again his eyes began tracking the male. "You didn't know him. He could've been a secret murderer."

Y/n gaped at him. "And what if he was? You had no right to scare him away."

"I'm just looking out for you. Were you interested in him?"

"That's none of your business." She parroted his earlier words, but he didn't seem to notice.

Don't you go falling in love

'Cause I'ma break that shit up

I won't let her love you like I do

Touch you like I do, nothing like I do

Nothing like I do

"He's not the one, trust me." Finally, he looked down at her.

Y/n had to take a deep breath to stop herself from screaming in frustration. "Don't snoop in my life, Azriel. You're friend, act like one."

A muscle ticked in his jaw as she pulled her hand away from his and stepped back. "Don't try to control my life. Doesn't suit you." Y/n whirled, her dress swishing around her legs as she walked away with barley restrained anger.

She walked out into the balcony nearest to her, leaning against it, taking deep gulps of the fresh night air.

Some time had passed before she felt Azriel's presence behing her and she sighed.

He silently came to stand beside her. It was quite a few moments before he cleared his throat. "I– I'm sorry. I was being an asshole. But did you see him? The way he was looking at you– it made me want to rip his head off him. I'm sorry."

He was looking at her now, but she stared straight ahead. When she didn't say anything for a long time, he continued. "What– what were you going to say, when we talked before the party? She'll never what?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"She'll never love you... like I do." She needed to know, Y/n decided. If he rejected her, she could atleast have no regrets when moving on.

He started laughing, and she squeezed her eyes shut. "No way. You don't love me. You don't, do you?"

She pushed back from the railing, turning away fro him. "If you don't want me –which I know you don't– atleast don't invalidate my feelings by laughing–"

"Who said i don't? Hmm?" He caught her wrist, tugging a frozen Y/n back, flush against him. "I love you too, you dumb female. Have been in love for almost my whole life now."

"But– but you loved Mor–" She sputtered, turning her head to look at him.

"That was me trying to accept the fact that an amazing female like you would never want a bastard like me."

"You're mad if you thought that. Why would you even think that!" She turned to look at him fully, her wrist still clasped in his hand. He just smiled and shrugged, staring at her intently. "You're such an idiot."

"But–" He said after a moments hesitation, "I'm your idiot now?"

She grinned, the tension bleeding from her shoulders as she buried her face in the place connecting his neck and shoulder, his arms instantly going around her waist.

"You're my idiot now."

Little did they know then, that soon they'll realise he was her mate too.

•○🌑○•

[chelscait]

could you write a Laura Freigang blurb? Not sure about what though little low on ideas 😬

notice me. | Laura Freigang

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

You jumped slightly at the sudden noise, not allowing your head to turn from the view in front of you. The once calm quiet of the outside is now polluted with that one girl's presence.

You leant over the balcony of your shared hotel room, picking at your fingers as your thoughts ran wild in your mind, staying quiet to try and make her go away.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" Her voice was full of concern as you heard her feet shuffle against the floor towards you, only turning your head slightly when her shoulder brushes yours before mimicking your actions.

You sniffled next to her, your eyes turning away from the view in front of you to stare down towards the bottom. "I'm tired."

The blonde shuffled beside you before sighing, wrapping her arm around your back as she pulled your limp body into her warm one, rubbing your side in a gentle knowledge of comfort.

She cleared her throat because you didn't react. "Things will get better; once we get new management and can finally produce a flow in this team, we will win everything, I promise you that." She passionately spoke about the topic, and as much as you agreed with her, it was not the thing you wanted to hear- it was not the thing that you meant.

"I didn't mean that. I mean, as much as that is ideal, I didn't mean that." You whispered as you lifted your head up to finally catch her gaze, finding yourself with tears in your eyes as you stared at her.

"Then tell me, Y/N.. I'm always here for you."

"You won't get it, and don't tell me you will because I already have the idea and you have given it to me loud and clear without even speaking a word." You spoke in full resentment, wiping the tear that had escaped harshly from your skin.

"What do you mean? What are you talking about? Have I done something?" The hairs stood up at the back of her neck at your tone, distancing herself from your touch as she turned to lean on her hip.

"It's nothing you have done; it's everything you haven't done."

She stared at you in a state of confusion, your words somehow twisting into a rhyme in her head as she struggled to come up with a response, not knowing how you'd react to anything she'd say.

"Well, I'm sorry I have made you feel this way."

Scoffing, you stood up straight, now mirroring her own stance. "You not going to ask; are you not wondering what you haven't done? Are you not interested in knowing? Laura?"

"I, uh, I'm just confused.."

"I love you." You blurted, no care in the world with what her reaction could be, and once again, your anxieties were proven right as you were stared at like you had two heads. "I have tried so hard to show you that I did it for 2 years now; every single little thing I did, I was shut down by you. You embarrassed me; you acted as if you didn't notice, and I know for sure that you did."

"I didn't-"

"Shut up, let me speak, please." Your voice grew heavy as you held your hand up to cut her off, herself cowering slightly. "Every time I tried to make an effort with you to make you realise I am more than what there is, you took the other route and left me alone. Every time I spared you a seat on the bus and you go and sit next to someone else after looking right at me.. every time I buy you something and you give me nothing in return, like the one time I bought you a coffee and you took it with a 'thank you' and went and sat on a table without me.. what more do I have to do? What more do I have to do to get you to recognise me..?"

The tears now were broken free from their barrier as the sobs came up your throat, eyes desperately trying to catch hold of the girls in front of you as she struggled to even look anywhere near you.

"You're too high on the emotions of the loss, Y/N.."

"Fuck you, Laura.."

"I'm sorry, its..." She took a deep breath, and you heard the wobble that affected it, hands rubbing against her face as she heard you sob uncontrollably beside you, knowing that any of your teammates could probably hear you from their own balcony. "It's not you, it's me."

"I don't want that bullshit! I want a reason; I want an I love you too, but I know I'm not going to get that, so just tell me why."

"I love somebody else!" She exclaimed, the tears now flowing down her own face as she watched her broken best friend beside her. "Okay? I don't love you because I love somebody else."

sorry i made it angsty🤓

[baratiddyappreciator]

Giving the Baki Cast Massages

I read a fic and was hit by the inspiration beam, we are making men moan today folks! All SFW, but I could be convinced to make NSFW versions too.

Baki:

When you tell him you're going to give him a back massage, he's initially confused, because why would he need one of those? He's feeling perfectly fine. But he'll still humor you and lay down.

It's not until your hands start working on him that he realises that oh, he needed this, actually. Like, he really needed this. He's needed this for a long time. He's all tense and full of knots, though not as bad as some others would be. It takes you getting the first knot out of his back for him to start making noises.

At first he's really quiet with his noises, they're subtle, not immediately noticed, but they're there. Little groans and grunts, but once you hit the right spot, he lets out a full-blown moan. It will surprise the both of you, because it comes out of nowhere, but keep going, he's not done yet.

By the time you get half of his back done, he's gone completely limp and is just groaning and letting you do whatever you want to him as long as it keeps this feeling going.

Kozue:

Shoulder, back and hand massages are a godsend for her, she needs the relief, because while her posture is good, it's not the best at times. She's all for it, because she'd feel bad if she asked for it herself. Just walk up and start massaging her and it's like you hit her off button.

There's a few knots and stiff spots, but not a lot of them, she does take good care of herself, so you won't really have to dig in to get at the sore spots, they're in pretty shallow.

She is vocal. Whining, humming, groaning, she'll lean back into your hands while you work on her, and it's very obvious that she's just in pure bliss. If you stop before she's ready for you to stop, she'll give you the most bone chilling glare and demand you keep going.

Be the time you're allowed to stop, she's passed out on whatever surface you started massaging her on, and very deeply passed out at that, you'll have to carry her to bed so she doesn't get a back ache.

Hanayama:

It takes a shockingly short amount of time to convince him to let you give you a massage. You just have to ask and he's surprisingly open to the idea. Back and shoulder massages to this man some wonders, but if you can manage to get at his hands, he's surprisingly sensitive.

A lot of stiff muscles and knots, and you do need to dig to get a few of them out, but by far the worst for all the tension is his upper back and shoulders. His lower back doesn't have any issues, actually, he knows to take care of that, but it's the upper back he can't really do anything about, tension just naturally settles there.

Not very vocal at all, but once you get the first knot out and soothe a little bit of tension he'll visibly start relaxing. He's got a naturally upset expression on his face, but even that starts to ease up a little bit.

Be sure to get comfortable, or else you're going to wind up having to wake him, because this man will fall asleep. Use it as a chance to properly get all the stress out of him and take care of him, he deserves it.

Katsumi:

He's all about self care, he knows how important it is. Truth be told he has a masseuse of his own, but he won't turn down one from his beloved friend and partner. His lower back tends to give him the most issues, so if you can get at that, you're in for a treat.

Mostly just stiff muscles, but there are a few little knots here and there. He doesn't expect you to dig to get them all out, but if you do, that's entirely up to you. He just appreciates that your hands are warm and soft on his skin.

Vocal and shameless, he'll hum and moan the entire time. Don't worry, it's just for you, he tones it way down when he goes in to his actual masseuse, he's fairly sure that they'd kick him out if he made some of the noises he does with you there.

Probably won't fall asleep, but he absolutely will relax. And once you're done, he will, be returning the favour. You helped him relax, so he'll do the same for you!

Jack:

It takes actual months of begging to get this man to let you give him a massage. He doesn't see himself as worth the effort of massaging the tension out of his muscles, because he knows that he'll need a lot of work put in to get anywhere close to a relaxed level, but when you do finally manage to convince him, it's a matter of getting him to sit fucking still.

This man is the stiffest out of everyone on this damn list. Knots, stiff muscles, it's like trying to make a rock relax. It'll take hours to get even half of his back done, and you've really gotta dig to get the knots out. You're going to have to do this repeatedly to properly get him to relax, your arms will hurt.

Insanely vocal. He'll wiggle and writhe before you start, but the second you start massaging his shoulders or the back of his neck, he's outright moaning and groaning. Is he embarrassed? He would be if he was capable of coherent thought right now. Even rubbing his back lightly does miracles for him.

By the time you're finished, your arms are sore, your back hurts, and he's probably dead asleep. Don't tell him that you're sore, because he'll feel really bad and he'll never let you do that again because he doesn't want you hurting yourself.

Kosho:

Hand massages are big for him, he uses them a lot and sometimes he gets those deep cramps in his hands, but he's not opposed to a proper back or neck massage.

A few tense spots and knots, but not a lot, his brother taught him how to take care of himself, and he took that knowledge seriously, but there's still enough for you to work on.

He hums a lot. He's not afraid to direct you either. Dig in a bit harder under my shoulder, keep rubbing circles on my palms, stay shallow on my lower back. He knows what he wants and needs, and he's not afraid to tell you that.

He will be returning the favour when he thinks you need it, don't even try to stop him. By the time he's done, you're the one who's going to wind up falling asleep.

Kureha:

You want to massage him?! You? Really? He's almost as stubborn as Jack about this. Almost. A simple appeal to his ego is all it takes to get him laying down and letting you work on him. While you're at it, braid his hair and push it off to the side, because your hands will get tangled in it.

This man is in perfect condition, you think he doesn't have a masseuse? Wrong. He goes in and gets a full spa day. But he's not about to turn down the attention and admiration. Go for his hands and neck, he'll melt.

He's not above praising you when he thinks you're doing well, though he sighs a lot during the process, so he does sound incredibly annoyed, but you've really gotta look at him to see that he's very much enjoying himself.

Once you start you aren't going to finish, he'll have you go from one spot to another and then another until he's finally bored enough to let you go do other things. If you're going to spoil him, dedicate an entire day to it, otherwise he'll monopolize on your time.

Retsu:

He'll politely decline every time you offer, so don't offer and just do it. Walk up behind him and start massaging the back of his neck. He's not opposed to it, but he doesn't want to seem needy or rude by outright saying he'd like a massage.

Get after this man's neck and feet, his back is mostly fine, he's careful to not tax that too much, but his neck and feet tend to get ignored. He'll lean into you and he'll lean hard. He's not that bad, but you might have to dig to properly relieve the tension in his neck.

He lets out one moan, and then he's dead silent for the rest, because he knows if he opens his mouth to make even a single sound. He'll be bright red the entire time after that.

He's incredibly grateful after, expect him to be showing that appreciation in many different ways. You'll come home to find the house cleaned, the floor is so spotless that you'll be able to see your own damn reflection. Meal? Cooked. Bed? Made.

Doppo:

He's chill with everything, but he does tend to have a lot of tension in his shoulders. He'll gladly sit down and let you take care of him. Hell, he'll even tap out for a quick nap if you don't mind.

He's all for just letting you work on him, he loves the attention and the affection, and he absolutely will be playing up how bad his shoulders hurt just so you offer to give him a massage.

He's not afraid of letting you know how much he's enjoying it, lots of humming and groaning once you really hit that spot. You're going to have to dig in once you get to his spine though, those muscles are tough.

Have you seen that grip strength? He and Hanayama are some of the best at returning the favour, if only because they can really get in there and help sooth that tension. He'll make you feel brand new.

Natsue:

She appreciates it tremendously. Offer to give this woman a shoulder rub and she'll sit all pretty as she pleases while you work. There's not as much tension as the others, she doesn't stress nearly as much.

The most you'll have to do is dig when it comes to the base of her skull. That carries a lot of tension for her, and she greatly appreciates it being done.

Not super vocal, but she will smile and tell you how you're doing. Either way, she's super appreciative and loves that you offered to do this for her.

She's a professional at a hand massage. Seriously, if you think Kosho is good, that's because you haven't had your hand massaged by Natsue. She'll make you feel like your hands are back to being five years old, not a hint of stiffness in sight.

Shibukawa:

Oh please do rub his tired old man shoulders, he clearly needs it- Yeah no he's going to milk that for all it's worth. In all fairness, he could actually be sore. Could. He probably isn't, staying loose and limber is how he's avoided most major injuries.

Not much tension anywhere in this mans body. His back and shoulders are all calm and relaxed, most he'd accept is hand or neck massages, and even then there's not a lot of work to be done.

He's not afraid of messing with you. Did you use a little more force in one pass? Oh he'll act like he's been shot, stabbed and run over by a dump truck. Then he'll turn around and pat you on the thigh, tell you good job and to continue.

He's got that old man grip, so if he does return the favour, it's an oddly reassuring thing that makes you feel safe. He's not above pinching you when he thinks you're getting too relaxed though.

Tokugawa:

He doesn't need it, but he'll take it, he knows that a lot of people dote on him out of respect and concern, but he's a grown ass man, if he needs something, he'll go get it.

There's hecca tension in those tiny ass shoulders and his neck. All of his fighters make him worry since just about all of them are hell-bent on rushing head-first into a grave most of the time.

Lots of chuckling as you work, but he does appreciate it. Don't worry about hurting him, he's a lot sturdier than you think he is.

He won't return the favour himself, but when you finish up he'll hand you a voucher for a full spa experience and just sorta walk away. He's grateful, and he'll make sure that you get your chance to relax as well.

[veeluvss]

i love you more, mama

TW: self harm, an attempt

emily x daughter!reader

i returned home from a case, dropping my go bag at the door and sighing heavily. my word i was tired. i walked through to the kitchen and noticed the mess. y/n hadn't done her chores again. i was hardly home but the only thing i asked her to do was make sure the house was clean and tidy. there was plates piled by the sink, pans and food. the food stunk and it was going off. why was she making food if she wasn't eating it? i groaned and headed up stairs, calling her name. her bedroom door was open and that was just as messy as the kitchen, i couldn't see her floor. all the clean washing i did last week was sprawled all over her bed. her desk was full of crisp packets and rubbish. i was appalled. "y/n!" i shouted again, getting more annoyed. i scanned the rooms, even checking my room. the sheets were crumpled, the bed unmade - like she'd been sleeping in mine. i could hear the tap in my en-suite too. "y/n," i called, going over and knocking on the door. i heard a gasp, a weak one but a gasp and i grew confused. what was going on? "you in there babe?" i asked, knocking. i could hear her whimpering, like she was trying to hide her crying. i tried the door but it was locked. "baby," i said, growing more panicked. i knocked more and a pain grew in my chest. something was wrong. i bashed at the door, putting my fbi field knowledge to use but i couldn't quite prepare myself for what i saw.

blood. the room was dark but i could smell the metallic hint in the air. "y/n," i whispered. i turned on the light and the sight in the bath shocked me even more. she was slumped over, head against the side of the wall, legs cut open. i couldn't even form any words. my baby. her eyes were fluttering and she tilted her head back to look at me. seeing the single tear fall from her tired eyes made me break. i quickly scrambled into the bath behind her, taking my phone out my pocket. "come on baby," i whispered, cradling her. "stay with me. keep them eyes open for mama." i rang an ambulance.

the sound of the heart beat monitor was draining me. i couldn't listen to the noise any longer. i took once glance at my daughter laying almost lifeless in the hospital bed and went to throw up. i couldn't help but feel like i'd failed as a mother. the team had been calling me, texting me. the lot. i couldn't bare to answer. i was ashamed. how did i not see her get this bad? i knew she had issues, i adopted her from an abusive situation but - but this?

once i'd washed my mouth out and wiped the tears from my cheeks i headed back into the ward. however, the blonde hair made me pause. "JJ," i muttered. she was staring at y/n, not moving, seeing the bandages all across her legs and scars on her arms. "she?" she choked out, turning around to me. i just took her into my arms. we both needed the hug.

"how did you find me?" "garcia, she tracked your phone when you weren't answering. an fbi badge gets you through all sorts of security," she chuckled. i smiled softly. "why didn't you call us? at least text? we could have helped." i shrugged. "i just, i feel like it's my fault." i was honest. i wasn't used to opening up, especially about parenting but with JJ, the mother of the group, and my best friend, it seemed right. "because you weren't there for her?" she asked. she reached her hand over and took hold of my hand. i could only nod, looking over at my baby. lying there, her chest going up and down, up and down. "when roslyn died, i blamed myself for so long." she said. "i thought i had this obligation to look out for her because we were sisters but as i grew up, i realised the pain she felt. i understood that she didn't tell me because she didn't want to hurt me." i took a deep breath. "as well, she saw me as an escape. spending time with me was her way out of it all, it was all nice and quiet when she had me there. she couldn't ruin that by telling me what was going on." i nodded, understanding. "you we're her escape em, she didn't want to ruin that beautiful relationship." "she died." i told her. "but she's here now. thanks to you."

after some time, garcia called JJ but i told her not to tell them the truth. not only was i still ashamed of myself, i didn't want her pain and suffering to be shared everywhere. JJ agreed to go work on a case, telling the team y/n was just poorly and she'll be okay soon. which she was. not a complete lie. "text me, please. if you need anything." JJ whispered, grabbing hold on my shoulders. i nodded and blinked back tears, i wasn't quite ready for her to go yet. "can you erm," i muttered. "can you send someone to go clean the house?" i asked timidly. "the bathroom- it's..." "i'll get it sorted. don't worry," she whispered. she leaned in and kissed my cheek. she then leaned down to y/n and kissed hers, stroking her hair and leaving a lingering gentle touch.

a few hours of silence later, i felt her twitch in my arms. i'd managed to slide in beside her in the bed, cuddling into her side and holding her close, yet so gently. i sat up, just in time to see her flicking her eyes open. she looked at me for a second then around at the room before closing her eyes tight. "i didn't work," she muttered, more to herself. i felt my heart break then. "thank you." she said afterwards. i looked at her in shock, she thanked me? i couldn't say anything, i just felt overwhelmed with relief and love. i lay down beside her and held her close to me, a little tighter this time. "i love you." i told her honestly. "i love you more mama."

[whiskygoldwings]

The Tattooist: Chapter Two: Wrench

I won't lie, I've been kind of terrified of putting this out, in case it didn't hold up after the first chapter. Everyone was so amazing and writing such wonderful things about it; the fear of letting people down was very real! But, here it is, a very different feel for this chapter, but I hope you all like it too!

---

The second time she tattoos a clone trooper client, it is an act of defiance.

This time Trix reached out to her first, sending her a message asking for an appointment for one of his brothers. She'd asked if this man had any idea what he wanted in advance, and Trix had tentatively answered her that he wasn't sure, just that his brother was angry, and needed to do something to get the itch out of his skin.

Elaah had blandly pointed out that Trix now knew full well that tattoos actually made you itch, and he had blushed before laughing sheepishly, admitting she was right.

She'd accepted anyway, arranging a date and time. She'd slotted in a whole day session, figuring that if they couldn't work out a design together, she'd maybe be able to pick up some walk ins, or get some of the admin done instead. Trix had given her the name “Wrench”, and made a comment that he was a pretty great guy normally, just he might be on the frustrated side when he came to see her. She'd carefully selected a day when Cafas was in. She didn't think any of the troopers would be likely to get aggressive, but she'd worked in the lower levels long enough to not be willing to take the chance.

She was just enjoying the last few sips of her coffee when Wrench stormed through the door, a cloud of righteous fury blasting in with him, making the force smell like burnt rubber. She managed to catch her expression before she wrinkled her nose, getting the feeling he would have taken one look at her face and walked straight back out again. Calmly, she puts down her mug, and places her hands clearly on top of the counter in front of her, empty palms flat against the surface. “I assume you're Wrench?”

“That's me,” the man says, arms crossed and jaw taut. “Trix told me to come to you.”

Elaah smiles at him, hopping off the stool and waving him over to her workroom. “Trix is a man of his word. Didn't tell me much about you though, just that you were angry.”

Wrench strides after her, passing her where she holds the door open and sits down on the comfy sofa as if it is the most uninviting, hard-backed chair ever. She glances over at Cafas' workroom to see him stood in the doorway, one grey eyebrow raised at her. She quirks a smile back, then goes into the room herself, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. She doesn't get a sense of violence from Wrench, more bottled up rage and frustration that needs to find an outlet. Cafas will keep an ear out, but she doesn't need him in the room.

She grabs her pad and stylus, freshly wiped the evening beforehand, and sits down in her armchair across from him. For a moment, she just watches the stewing man then tilts her head at him. “So what are you here for Wrench?”

He laughs bitterly. “You know you've gotten my name right twice more than my bloody chief so far?” his fists clench. “It's not bloody hard! My name is Wrench. It's a karking tool! People across the galaxy use them every day. I didn't choose it for complexity. I like working on machines, it seemed logical and simple. Apparently kriffing not!” he gets up and paces infront of the sofa, face twisted in anger, and when she looks deeper, hurt.

She realises she knows what he's here for, and quickly sketches out the basic shape of a wrench. “Your chief doesn't call you your name?”

Wrench laughs again, a haunted, broken noise. “My chief can't tell us apart. He's natborn, doesn't lift a karking finger, yet he lords it above us all like he's some kind of gift to the universe. I'm not even sure the man knows what a wrench is, he clearly hasn't used one even once in his perfect life.” She feels bitterness and exhaustion in the force. This man has worked hard to get where he is, and the smallest bit of recognition would go a long way. “I want him to look at me and say my name. Not hey you! Or trooper! Hell, even my serial number would be better than being treated like the shit on his shoe.”

Elaah blinks, not quite sure what to make of the serial number comment, before focusing in. “You want a wrench tattoo somewhere obvious.”

He whirls to stare at her, clearly taken aback for a moment, before nodding sharply. “I want it on my kriffing face.”

They stare at each other for a moment, then she places the pad and stylus on the table and crosses her arms. “If that is what you really want, I'm not going to persuade you otherwise. How long have you been thinking of this.”

He stares for a second longer, than slumps onto the couch. His whole body seems to crumple, like he was geared up for an argument, and the strings of it have suddenly been cut and released him. “I didn't think you'd agree,” he glances up at her.

She nods. “That's part of why you're so angry isn't it? You thought I'd say no, try and convince you you didn't know what you wanted to do with your own body.” He shudders, and she has to fight with herself not to go over there and hug him. “I think you've had enough bodily autonomy taken away from you without me joining in.”

Wrench looks sharply up at her at that, before releasing his breath all at once. He sits back up, steadying his shoulders, and looks at her without anger for the first time that day. “Trix was right about you,” he says, then smiles at her. “You're right, I want a wrench. I want it over my left eye. I've been thinking about it since I saw Trix's tattoo. Hadn't really thought about it before that, I'll be honest with you. Hadn't really known it was an option I guess. But it hasn't left my mind since. Trix gave me his credits, and a few others who feel like I do have given me theirs. Trix made me promise to agree a price with you before you began,” she grins sheepishly as he fixes a stern look on her.

“Will it get you into trouble?”

“Probably,” he shrugs. “But I've made that choice. If they decommission me for this, I'll have still looked that man in the eye and made him recognise me.” His back straightens further, and she can see the pride and defiance in the tilt of his chin.

“Decommision you?” She asks, browridge furrowed.

Wrench shakes his head. “I shouldn't have said that much really. Just... Whatever happens after this is my choice and my fault.”

Elaah stares thoughtfully at him for a moment. She can guess what the word means, doesn't quite want to let herself believe that they would go that far. But Wrench had felt honest and passionate when he spoke, and she feels a hard lump forming in the base of her throat. She swallows round it, making her own choice. She had already told him she wouldn't take his bodily autonomy away from him. Denying him his choice now would be just as bad. She'll just have to deal with her own complicity if it comes to it.

He's watching her still, clearly aware she's having her own crisis of conscience, but not interrupting or trying to guide her to a choice. It settles her own decision further. This proud man, stripped of so many of his own options, has made sure she has her own, even if it will mean he doesn't get what he wants.

She clears her throat, and picks up the padd and stylus again.”I get the feeling you don't want anything fancy,” she says, glancing at his grateful expression before looking back at her simple sketch. “More something bold. Obvious. Unmistakeable.”

Wrench nods.

“Do you want it solid black, linework or colours” she asks, blocking in the lines of the tool more purposefully. She's going to make this the kriffing best wrench she'd ever drawn.

“Solid black?” Wrench queries, and she nods, quickly finishing the outline and filling it with the colour. She turns the pad around to show him, and he looks over it critically, before the corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin. “You didn't even use a reference for that.”

She hums. “It's like you say, a wrench is a universally known tool after all.” It gets a laugh from Wrench, and she bares her teeth at him in a smile. He laughs harder at that, and she stands up and goes to print out the stencil. “Lie on the bed if you would please, on your back and tilt your face to the right on the cushion.”

“Price first,” he raises an eyebrow at her, not moving, and she growls as he smirks. “Trix was very clear about making you agree to one first.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, placing the printed stencil aside and pulling out her black ink. “75 credits. I won't take anymore than that.”

“I haven't even said what size I want it” he protests, and she turns and raises her own eyebrow at him.

“What size do you want it?”

He indicates from his nose to just before his ear. “Basically as big as you can get it really. Karking obvious, like it's stamped across my force-damned face.”

She nods and turns back to her ink. “75 credits then.” It's the lowest price they quote, but she doesn't particularly want to take any of the hard-won money from these men. She'll figure out some way to feed it back into the GAR, though she suspects it'll be harder than it should be to ensure it will go to the men.

Wrench snorts behind her, clearly aware she's quoting low, but accepts it as a truce, and goes to the tattoo bed.

It doesn't take long to get prepared with only one colour on the plan for today. She carefully places the stencil, fitting the bottom half of the wrench on his left cheek and the upper half continuing on over his eyebrow, a gap for his eye. She slants it so the top fixed jaw skims below his regulation short hairline, and makes him to get up and check it before she'll begin.

He stares at it for a moment in the mirror, a fierce look on his face, before nodding at her and lying back down on the bed. She'd offer him some numbing spray, but she suspects he wants to feel every moment of this, and would resent any offer to ease the pain. With a tap of her fingers to the lower part of the wrench, she presses the tattoo gun to his cheek, and begins.

He can't talk during it, too much risk of knocking the gun out of place. But she can feel the edges of his emotions in the force, and the flow of catharsis through him. Every stroke of the needle across his skin feels like resolve, and she finds herself growing calmer as the tattoo takes shape. She lines it first, giving herself an edge to work against, then begins the careful shading in of the solid black. It won't be easy for Wrench to come in for a touch-up fighting in a war, so she needs to make this as uniform as possible. She slips into the focused meditation she usually finds in the hum of the tattoo gun, and the spread of ink across flesh.

Wrench doesn't flinch or move once during the entire process. He keeps himself rock still, in a manner that hits her all at once has been trained into him. What have they been put through, she wonders, to know how to remain unmoving in the face of constant pain. She has to set the thought aside, to be examined at another time, so her needle doesn't grow harsh and cruel in her grasp. There is, of course, plenty of pain, considering the location and simply the nature of tattooing, but she doesn't let it become any worse than necessary.

He sits so well that she finishes in record time. The solid black statement stares defiantly across his face, and she gently wipes it down as Wrench takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. She's not sure he actually blinked at all during the time she was tattooing, though he must have done. She gets close to his face, staring carefully at every endge of the tattoo, and the stretch of black at it's core, ensuring she hasn't missed a spot, or wavered in her lines. Satisfied, she leans back, stretching her arms above her, before patting Wrench on the shoulder. “It's done.”

He sits up, a little faster than she would have liked, but she gets the sense he needs to see. She's proven right when he swings his legs straight off of the bed, and marches over to the mirror before she can tell him to slow down.

Wrench stops, and stares at his own face. There's something blistered and painful in his presence in the force, yet also something wondering and cautiously pleased. She wonders what it must be like to be constantly surrounded by the faces of people who look just like you, looking for ways to make your own identity among an army of people physically exactly the same. She wonders if he's finally looking at his own face for the first time, and knowing it to be only his. A little part of her weeps for this man, but she doesn't let any of it show. This is not like Trix. Trix needed empathy and support. Wrench needed her to be quiet and to respect his choices.

Wrench takes his own time to examine his new face, and the line of his shoulders straighten as he takes on the aftermath of his decision. He turns to her, all the anger bled out of him, leaving only determination behind. With confident steps, he approaches her and nods. “Thank you,” he says, reaching into his pocket and counting out exactly 75 credits. No more, no less. He hands them to her, and she takes them with a nod of her own.

“It should be bandaged, to protect it,” she says, but is unsurprised by the shake of his head.

“I'll go to the medics on the ship if I need to, but I need to wear this openly.”

She doesn't argue, and as he walks out, she hopes she gets to hear the story of what happened when the chief officer saw it from him. She hopes she hears it from him directly, years down the line, when he's looking perhaps for a touch up.

She doesn't let herself consider what “decommissioned” may mean.

[julieverne]

"I don't understand why you're so scared of zombies," Maura said in a casual tone as she used the microscope. "You know the dead don't come back to life."

"Yeah, well, they did once, and see how well that turned out for us, huh? Found that damn hand when it was almost too late. I really-" Jane's voice cracked, and Maura looked up with curiousity. "I really thought I'd lost you that time."

Maura remembered the terror, the dawning realisation that yet another man she'd been attracted to was a criminal - a serial killer, that time - and then Jane's arms wrapped tight around her, the soothing little noises Jane made as she held Maura. The reassurances, the fierce press of Jane's lips at her hairline, the way Jane grasped her with hands that Maura knew hurt. The way she'd clung to her, aware Frost and Korsak were working around them, calling in paramedics and a different team from Maura's office than usual. People who wouldn't know Maura had been involved with Dennis. And even with the realisation that Dennis had intended to kill her for saving him, had intended to kill her for the symbolically mothering act of giving him life, intended to kill her because he'd kept killing once she'd brought him back, she felt a calm sense of safety in Jane's arms.

She always did.

Jane looked worried now, that little furrow in her brow when she thought she'd upset Maura.

"Shit, I didn't mean to bring it up."

"Actually, I think it does help to think of him as a zombie," Maura said smoothly, but not smoothly enough because Jane came around the desk then, one hand resting on Maura's back. It slid up to the tension between Maura's shoulder blades, then down, resting just above Maura's sacroiliac joint.

"I kind of wish I'd killed him," Jane admitted, her hand stroking Maura again, the lights low, only the night crew working. Dennis was dead, at his own hand, and Maura knew how it felt to want to have hurt someone who had hurt Jane. When Danny had bled out on the sidewalk, Maura cradling Jane's lifeless, leaking body, Maura had wished later that she'd given him a kick in the head before he'd finally stopped moving next to her. He was dead, but only because the bullet had gone through Jane first. She spent hours in the hospital, pacing the hallway. Angela had added her to Jane and Frankie's next of kin lists, but there were only so many hours she could spend looking down at a person she loved so much for her vitality lie completely still.

"I wish you had, too." In her nightmares, it was Jane who slayed Hoyt as she had in real life, Jane who untied her, Jane who held her as she shuddered from the muscular contractions from the aftershock of the taser. It was always Jane who saved her. And she had, in that loft. She'd shown up in time. She'd figured it out from the report Maura was too busy trying to hook up with a serial killer to receive. But she wished Jane had killed him, because she knows that would make them both feel better about it. He'd gone out on his own terms. He could have pulled Maura with him, but he'd chosen to let her go. He'd even pushed her at Jane.

He'd known.

And Jane had caught her and held her, even as the paramedics and crime scene techs arrived. She half-helped, half-carried Maura down and outside, then held her while the paramedics tried to check her over. They'd given Jane the sedative to give to Maura when they got home, and Jane had taken her home. She'd run a bath, and while she was usually a bit squeamish about Maura's nudity when it wasn't strictly necessary (for work or the gym), she sat on the edge with a beer and kept Maura company, keeping her mind off of what had almost happened to her. She'd fetched Maura's softest pyjamas and helped her into them, then warmed up dinner, holding out the sedative when Maura was done eating.

"I'll tell Ma," Jane had said.

"Don't." Maura grasped Jane's hand as she turned. "Don't leave me," Maura had whispered, feeling pathetic and needy as Jane bundled Maura back into her arms.

"I'll get Frankie to tell her," Jane compromised.

"Tomorrow," Maura insisted into Jane's shoulder. Jane was only ever like this when something bad happened. It wasn't the only time Maura needed her to be like this, and she felt sleazy for taking advantage of her trauma like that.

But she had needed Jane that night, even with the sedative calming some of her anxiety. Jane lay beside her as a sentinel, guarding her, comforting her every time she'd woken from sleep. The night had been a blur, but her brain knew she was safe with Jane. When she'd woken, daylight lazily creeping through the window, Jane had been watching her with such a fiercely possessive look on her face. A moment later it had been gone, Jane's features softening into the gentle eyes and soft smile Maura was used to seeing when they were alone. Jane's grasp on her had also softened, her hands smoothing over Maura's back.

"Hey," Jane had rasped, obviously unslept. She took her job as Maura's guardian as seriously as Frost called his blue robot an action figure.

Maura had wanted - she'd wanted something. Something she'd wanted for a while. She'd always known she'd felt safest in Jane's arms. Always known Jane loved her, would take care of her.

But she'd also known that what she wanted from Jane wasn't what Jane wanted from her, so she simply buried her face in Jane's chest and wept.

Not because of Dennis. Well, a little because of Dennis, but mostly because the people she dated because she couldn't date Jane never measured up. And they never would.

And Jane, not knowing any of this, soothed her. Jane held her close and rubbed her back, their bodies as aligned as their moral compasses. Jane, not knowing she was the cause of Maura looking for love in all the wrong men, comforted her.

And Maura had soaked in it, healing her dried roots - a family tree of criminals and their accomplices, a distance between her and Constance of Arthur's making.

And then Jane was touching her again, in real life, shaking Maura from her memories.

"You know I won't let anyone hurt you, don't you?" Jane growled, her voice low and fierce. Her hand gripped Maura possessively for a moment, then it was gone, Jane probably realising how intimate the moment had been and fleeing from the implications.

Maura looked up at her, hurt, then slid her eyes away, down Jane's torso.

"I think I'm more worried about ghosts," Maura said, to cover the awkward moment. She could feel Jane's surprise beside her. "Not literal - or spiritual - ghosts. But the ghost of the path not taken. I'm haunted by possibilities." Maura licked her lips, turning her face away. "Ian asked me to go with him. He always does, but that was the first time I wished I'd gone. And I wonder what my life would be like if I was with him. If someone else would have tried to kill me. It feels inevitable, somehow. But I'd have been working with live people. And you know how I feel about that."

Maura had thought about more than just that one moment. She though about all the ghosts of opportunities past, all the times she could have said something to Jane. All the worlds in which they could have been together.

Jane's surprise hadn't faded. There was an edge of disappointment in it, now.

"I stayed because - for so many reasons, including the legality of the work - I stayed because I love you more than I ever loved him. I would follow you into a collapsing basement, but I wouldn't leave the house for him. I would go with you to the prison hospital of a man who nearly killed you twice, even though you didn't ask me to. I would do anything for you, and you show up for me too. I couldn't trust that he'd keep me safe. But you do."

"I put you in danger." Jane's voice was strained. "I keep putting you in danger. You ran towards a burning car for me. You pulled me out of those tunnels when I would have waited for Tommy and... and Frost." Jane's voice broke again.

"You save me from danger, Jane," Maura insisted. Jane hadn't taken the bait. She'd ignored yet another confession of love from Maura, and it hurt. Maybe next time she should take that kind of chance. Maybe she should leave, and hope that whoever she found would step up for her the way Jane had.

Even if she did, she'd still be haunted by the ghost of what she could have had.

"I called him the love of my life. But I hadn't lived as much, then. I hadn't loved as much. And it would haunt me if I didn't - I have to tell you. It's been a lie I've kept too long."

Jane was fidgeting. Her thumbs under her belt, her fingers fiddling with the front of her pants until she could close them around the belt, drawing Maura's eyes down, then slowly up.

Jane was gorgeous. Maura had said as much, but it was still intimidating to have those scared, uncertain deep brown eyes focused on her like this.

"If there's one true love in my life, it's you, Jane Clementine Rizzoli." Jane rolled her eyes at the use of her middle name, but she didn't try to shush Maura. Didn't try not to hear what she was saying. "You show up for me, every day. You keep me safe. You're the first person to tell my parents how I need to be loved, and it was because you'd figured it own on your own and you were already doing it. I don't think I ever felt loved before I met you. Desired, yes. But you have seen all of me, and you have loved me anyway. And everytime I try to fool myself that some man could measure up against that, I fail."

"You had a bad run, but if you want to date me instead of the rash of criminals you find so attractive, then I guess you're in some desperate times."

"And they call for desperate measures, don't they? I can't live with being haunted by what we could have. I know you don't - I know you love me-"

"I do," Jane admitted quickly. Maura sighed; even after all these years it was a relief to hear Jane affirm it verbally.

"I know," Maura checked the level of her voice. The lab staff were still busy tonight, even at this late hour. "I know you don't want me." Maura felt her voice crack along with her heart now that she'd finally voiced the thought that always haunted her. "But it's been seven years and you deserve to know."

"I already said okay, didn't I?" Jane asked, her voice low and soft, her hands reaching for Maura and pulling her close. "I was trying to say you could do better, if you're this desperate, but I'm not - I won't complain."

"You complain about everything," Maura said, sagging in relief and being caught in the safety of Jane's arms.

"Not about being lucky enough - can we go home? Your lab gremlins are getting a free show and I'm not handing out MA+ tickets."

"Mature Audiences?" Maura asked hopefully.

Jane lowered her mouth to Maura's ear, her voice low and husky. "Implied nudity. Some sexual situations. Viewer discretion advised."

Maura swallowed and let Jane lead her out of the basement, into the parking garage, into the car and back home.

There hadn't been a question of where home was. It was with each other (but it was also, in a more practical sense, Maura's house).

---

Maura woke, the body next to hers familiar, even in its nudity. She ran her palm over the plane of Jane's shoulder blade and mentally calculated several of her vertebral angles, since she had the opportunity without the clothes in the way.

Last night they'd exorcised all their ghosts. All the pasts they'd wanted with each other; the baby they'd wanted to raise together, the yearning to adopt Tasha. It had taken hours to hash it all out, mostly because Jane kept doing the most delicious things with her mouth.

"I was going to say - I forgot to say," Jane yawned and kissed Maura's jaw. "That zombies should be your worst nightmare. You know, all the safe motionless bodies you work on suddenly coming alive. And you'd have to interact with them, like people. And people are your worst nightmare."

"They used to be," Maura said, absently using her finger to measure the curve of the dip in Jane's back. "But the thing I've always been most afraid of is losing you."

Jane looked up, sunlight caught in her hair, her skin bronzed in the dawn sun. Maura could see the guilt there - Jane had shot herself, jumped off a bridge, gone after a witness without backup. Jane had shut down any mention Maura made of attraction to her. Maura had faced her worst fear.

And she'd lived. They both had. Jane smiled uncertainly, as though she wasn't sure she was worth the amount of affection Maura had for her. Maura recognised the look; it was one she'd worn often before she'd met Jane.

She kissed it right off her face. Jane cupped her cheek and closed her eyes, scrunching her face up close against Maura's.

"Please, please let this be real this time," Jane mumbled, but Maura kissed away any doubts Jane could have.

The nightmare was over; there were no more ghosts, just the possibility of a beautiful future. Together.

[starpirateee]

Could you maybe write something Holloweane? They are my world 🤍

Of course I can, anon! I could've made this maybe the angstiest thing ever, because god only knows the two of them have potential for it,,, but let's save that for Holloweane week, shall we?

"Duke, good god, you need to rest."

Miss Holloway was starting to get the impression that Duke Keane didn't believe in sleep. He was the undisputed king of working himself to the bone, with the excuse that there was always something else to do, or someone else to help. He was in her diner for coffee every morning, and not only because he wanted a good chat with the famous Miss Retro... Because he'd come in groggy and lacking any of the energy he needed for the day, and she'd started insisting on giving him coffee to tide him over.

She was sure he'd forgotten about it, but there was one occasion she caught him sleeping in the backseat of his station wagon between hasty stacks of manila envelopes. After asking him about it, he'd admitted that he just crashed, and that was it for a good hour or more.

At the moment, he was sitting on one of the barstools at the corner of the counter, scribbling hurriedly into a case file and trying to update his notes on something that had clearly gotten his interest. She'd managed a glimpse at his notes, and they were just as haphazard as she would've come to expect from him. Clearly nobody else looked at these files, because his way of organising the notes and data within the file seemed to be... Unique to just him. If it wasn't, she'd be genuinely surprised.

He looked up at her, seemingly registering her presence for the first time, though she'd been standing there on the other side of the counter the whole time, for a lack of anything better to do. "I'm good, I'm on my way to finishing this stack."

She rolled her eyes. "That's not the point... If you keep going now these aren't going to make any sense to you when you next read em!" Somehow, she was going to play into a part of his mind where it made sense to take a break, because she was frankly worried that one of these days, he was going to work himself to death.

"I've gotta write this up again anyway, someone complained they couldn't read my writing, so eventually I've gotta go through this again and type it." he shrugged, looking back towards the paper. Her eyes followed his, like she hadn't already tried to decipher what he was trying to write. Was he seriously using a college notation method to write up official cases? Did she really recognise it as a college notation method?

Maybe this was on her.

"Isn't that all the more reason why you should save it? C'mon, Duke, when was the last time you got a good night in?"

"Why are you so bothered how much I sleep?" the question wasn't malicious in any way, merely Duke playing into his curiosities without looking up from the page he was scribbling on.

"Because it's been the same routine for months now? You come in here every morning before work, and I'm lucky if I actually get to see you alert and well rested before you order the coffee. don't you think there's even a chance you're working yourself too hard?"

His pen stopped. She hadn't realised how much she'd been relying on it as background noise until it stopped scratching against the page.

"Huh."

He was more than aware that she paid attention to him. The two of them had some rather interesting conversations first thing on a morning, but come to think of it, most of those had been fuelled by her absolutely heavenly coffee. At this point, it was a subconscious effort to keep himself going for as long as possible, because that meant he got more done. And if he got more done, then he had more of a chance to get to the conclusion of a case, to reach the point where he could stop and say... Yeah. He finally made a difference. A real difference.

"Y'know, maybe I am..."

Holloway's shoulders dropped with relief; she hadn't even realised there had been a tension there in the first place. Duke's eyes flitted between her, the notes, and an empty space on the desk next to him.

"Just let me-"

"Duke..."

Her hand fell on top of his, stopping him from witing another word (and bringing a sudden flush to his cheeks, but he elected to ignore that one). She gently shifted his hand out of the way, closing the file over the written notes with her other hand. He stared at the glossy sheen on her brightly painted nails until he snapped himself out of his working trance, at least for the time being.

"I'm gonna hold this file hostage if you're not careful, least that'll be one way to actually get you to sleep for once..."

After thinking about this, and coming to the realisation that he was likely going to be back in the morning anyway, he figured that there was only one way to keep him distracted from work long enough to get him to do anything else. "... Could you?"

"What?"

"Keep the file. I'll be back for it tomorrow morning, but you want me to sleep, and there's a bit of me that wants me to sleep too... So-"

She slipped the file under the counter without another word, a smile resting on her lips. "It'd be my pleasure. Now... I swear to god, if you don't sleep tonight I'm burning this."

A laugh escaped him, genuine as it was weary. "Fine, fine, I can take a hint." He stood up from his barstool and took a moment to grin over at her before he turned on his heel and headed towards the door. Before he could leave, he shot a final glance back. "Please don't burn it... That's a week's worth of work..."

"Get some rest, then," she teased, folding her arms.

"G'night, Miss Holloway."

"Goodnight, Duke."

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Eight - Save Me

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this! Talks of stalking (but in a non serious manner), talks of non consensual groping. she gets called a whore, choking, SA, 'missing' birth control, blood

Series Masterlist

Worried wasn't the word Bob wanted to use. He didn't know her plans, didn't know what she was going to do. He'd desperately hoped that she'd break up with Ken, that she'd call him to help her move out. 

But it had been three days and he hadn't heard anything. He'd called and texted, but nothing, no response. Alarm bells would have been ringing if she hadn't at least been looking at his texts. 

God, he hated how much he missed. All it took was seeing her in his house, in that old Star Wars shirt one time, and he was hooked. It was a sight Bob would never get enough of. And, after not hearing from her in a week, he couldn't think of anything worse than never seeing her in his house, in his clothes, again. 

A week and a half after he'd dropped her at her apartment, a week and a half since he'd heard her soft, melodic voice calling out his name, Bob was given a distraction. A welcome distraction in the form of Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. 

How long had it been since Bradley visited? Bob wasn't entirely sure, too caught up with other things. But, if Bradley was here, it was because Maverick was also here. 

They almost had all of the Squad back together. As much as Bob loved Jake and Natasha, Rooster and Maverick made a welcome change. Having them down at The Hard Deck while Slow Ride by Foghat, of all songs,  played brought back too many good memories, Bob could hardly grasp them all. 

They didn't even never to ask about her. It might have been one offhand comment about Bob's dating life and there he was, telling everyone about the girl he had fallen in love with. His cheeks were pink the entire time. 

It wasn't his place to detail the abuse, so he didn't. But he made it clear that Ken was an asshole, something that Phoenix and Hangman confirmed. Bradley's fighting spirit immediately came out to play. "Why don't we go jump the guy, get Baby Bob's dream girl back?"

But they all knew they couldn't. 

Until the next Saturday at The Hard Deck. Bob stared desperately at his phone as he waited for any sign of her. It had been two whole weeks since he'd last heard from her, abd he'd done nothing but mope around. It really was pathetic, wasn't it? But he couldn't help it. His dream girl seemed to be gone. 

And then Bob's phone rang. His breath hitched as her name appeared on the screen and he rushed outside to answer it. "Hey Doll," he said, holding the phone up to his ear. 

There was a noise, a noise like she wanted to say something, and then nothing. 

Muffled voices, that was all Bob could hear. He pressed his phone tighter to his ear like that would make any sort of difference. The voices muffled, but he could just about make out what was being said. "Barbie, there's still blood on the counter!" Roared a male voice. Kens voice. 

When she spoke, Bob could hear it a lot clearer. "I'm getting to it, Ken! I swear!" Her voice was hoarse, terror wrapped around her every word. 

The reply was muffled. There was so much happening in that apartment, and Bob didn't know what. It was so fuckibg terrifying.

The next sound he heard was a pained whimper. Natasha had come out to check on him, pausing and listening when she saw the look on Bob's face. Her eyes widened a the next noise, like something hitting the floor or the wall. 

Fuck, Bob couldn’t listen to this anymore. He said her name gently. "If you can hear me, lock yourself in the bathroom. I'm coming to get you."

There was no reply, the call just ending. 

Now, Bob wasn't stupid. He knew there was no way he could get in there and get her out without causing more harm. That was why he went up to Rooster, Hangman, and Phoenix. "I need your help."

That was all it took to get them into Bob's truck. He drove, knuckles white against the steering wheel as he headed to her apartment. The others found out what Bob wanted them to know, what he wanted them to do. 

It was a plan of sorts, but the word plan made it sound cartoon-y. Natasha was gonna keep the car running while they somehow got into the apartment. Bob was gonna get her while Jake and Bradley dealt with Ken. They didn't know what dealing with Ken meant, but they were prepared for anything. 

When they arrived at the apartment Natasha climbed into the driver's seat and Bob, Jake and Bradley climbed out. Bob led the way. He pushed into the entryway, but then he stopped. Which one was her apartment? Fuck, he should have asked on the phone. 

But then he heard shouting, loud and clear from the apartment on the top floor. 

Bob took off running, the others behind him. He took the stairs two at a time. At the very top of the stairs, he threw his shoulder against the door. 

When they met him at the top of the stairs, Bradley and Jake joined him, forcing the door open. It didn't take long before it gave and they were bursting in. 

"What the fuck!" Came the not so familiar voice of Ken. "Get out of my apartment!" 

Bob ignored him as he looked around. "Where is she?" He asked in a low voice, one the others hadn't heard from him before. 

Ken straightened up. "Oh. It's you." 

Before he could say more, Rooster strode forward. In an instant he had Ken up against the wall, holding him by the collar of his shirt. "Where is she?" He roared, spit flying into Ken's face. 

Bob left Jake and Bradley deal with Ken as he walked through the apartment. He ignored the broken glass on the kitchen floor and continued on. 

The first room he got to was the bedroom. It was a mess, sheets everywhere, broken photo frames and a smashed up phone on the floor. Paper everywhere, filled with writing but ripped up. But no her. Swallowing the lump in hid throat, Bob continued on.

There was just one other room. Bob tried pushing on the door, but it was locked. Knocking, he called her name. "Are you in there?" 

Pressing his ear to the door, he heard a muffled sob. "I'm here," he tried, pushing at the door handle again. "I'm gonna get you out of here. Can you let me in?" 

He heard the door unlock so he pushed his way in. He was slow, giving her time to move away from the door before he threw it open. 

And there she was, knees pulled up against her chest as she sat under the sink. The tears freely fell, but she didn't bother to wipe them. Didn't even bother to look up at Bob. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at her. When he held his hand out towards her, she flinched away. His heart snapped in two. 

"C'mon," he said softly. She finally looked up at him. "I'm getting you out of here." 

As soon as she placed her hand in his, Bob pulled her to her feet. Immediately she was against him, holding onto him, arms thrown around his neck. "I got you," he whispered again and again and again. 

He held her against him as he walked her out of the apartment. She had nothing besides herself, but that was more than she ever thought she'd make it out with. Her hand was against his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating in his chest. 

It didn't stop the tears as he took her down the stairs. He didn't know what Hangman and Rooster were doing, just hoping they were following. And, on the stairs, she slipped. She would have fallen to her knees and all the way down if it wasn't for Bob holding her. "I got you," he kept saying as he got her to the bottom of the stairs and out to the truck. 

Bob was a gentleman. He would have helped her in no matter what. But there was no way she would have been able to do it on her own, not in that moment. 

"What now?" Natasha asked as Bradley and Jake climbed in. (Jake climbed into the back with her and Bob, but Bob kept himself between the two of them).

"Drop me back at mine," Bob said quietly. She was holding his shirt so tight, it was almost like she was never gonna let go. "I'll pick up the truck tomorrow.”

The drive back to Bob's was silent. His arm stayed around her, large hand comforting against her back. It was only a short drive, Bob kept a hold of her the entire way. 

When they pulled up, Bob helped her out. The others were silent, only exchanging looks with him as he opened the door and helped her in. 

He heard the truck pull out of the driveway, but the wasn't what he was concerned about as he sat her down. She furiously wiped at her eyes with bruised hands. Hands that Bob gently took into his own and laid them on his lap. 

"What happened?"

She looked so tired, so goddamn tired as she looked up at him. There were bruises all over her skin, lip split open. She looked terrible. But she kept her mouth shut, didn't answer him. 

He could have begged, could have demanded that she answer him, but what good would that do? Instead, he stood, walked into the kitchen, and got her something to drink. 

When he came back with a steaming hot tea and a glass of water, she was already sleeping, face pressed pressed against the arm of the sofa. Bob lifted her ever so slightly, slipped a cushion beneath her head and threw a blanket over her body. 

He left her there, sleeping on the sofa. Now, don't get me wrong, Bob would have carried her to the bed. But he'd never seen her so scared before, didn't want to do anything would would scare her more than she already was. 

He kept his door open, though. Any noise that she made had Bob in the doorway, checking on her. But she slept right through, Frodo curled up against her.

Taglist: @nurse-sainz

@not-nyasa

@burningwitchprincess

@darksparklesficrecs

@primroseluna

@littlemsbumblebee

@wretchedmo

@imaginecrushes

@calpalsbestie

@hiireadstuff

@lyn-js

@emma8895eb

@teacupsandtopgun

@finnydraws

[resowrites]

The Fight Before Christmas (part 2) - oneshot.

Summary: All is finally revealed, but will Henry and his girlfriend’s relationship ever be the same? (follow on from this oneshot, but can be read as a standalone story).

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: 18+ only (adult themes), angst, fluff, relationship difficulties/argument, brief mention toxic family dynamics, brief mention of illness/end of life care, brief allusion to smut, dialogue heavy, time hopping/vignette style, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 4549

A/N: Phew, here it is folks. Sorry it’s a little rushed. This week’s been crazy and I ran out of time. I hope you all enjoy and as ever, please let me know your thoughts. This piece is a big bowl of happy/sad soup, please take care when reading as I know it can be a difficult time of year. I wish all of you a safe, peaceful Holiday - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

The Fight Before Christmas (part 2) - oneshot.

Saturday 12:38 am

Henry hurried back inside, dazed and confused about what just happened. A rhythmic thumping noise then stopped him in his tracks. It was Kal plodding down the stairs. He usually hid in Ollie's office during the colder months, the warmth of the radiator under her desk providing a cosy place for naps. He crouched down and cuddled his boy. He must have heard the arguing, gone into their bedroom like he normally did at that time, and found them both missing. He wracked his brain for what to do. If he did go after her, she might not come back at all. But he just couldn't fathom why she was so determined to get away. He knew it wasn't anything he'd done, it was now technically the weekend which also meant he was officially off work until January. He'd been so looking forward to spending Christmas with her. Kal nudged at the hem of her coat, which dangled from the hook above them and whimpered. She'd left without it.

He shot back up and tried to find his phone, eventually realising it was still in the kitchen. He knew she probably wouldn't pick up, but he had to try. "Hi, this is Ollie. I'm sorry I can't take your call. Leave a message and I'll get back to you, thanks!" Just hearing her voice made his stomach drop. He tried to stay calm and think logically about where she might be headed. The nearest hotel was only a b&b and took a good two hours to get to, even at that time. Her only friends within an hour's distance were Rachel, Laura, and Claire. Laura used to be a nurse, but she also had young children. Would she bother her at that time? What if Laura didn't pick up and he couldn't reach either of them? His mind carried on racing until he felt something warm slide across his hand. Kal had followed him into the kitchen and was licking his fingers. "What am I gunna do mate, eh?" Kal's head merely tilted from left to right. He sighed and noticed the glass still spread out over the counter. He'd tidy up, keep ringing round for a bit, and then make up the sofa just in case she came back. But his plan didn't reassure him for long. Not when he actually looked around and knew that, already, the house seemed to have changed completely. He stared back down at his phone and decided to try texting her as well.

***

Saturday 8:06 am

"Oh Laura, thank God. Is she alright?"

"She's fine, didn't you see my text? I'm sorry I missed your calls--"

"She needs to get her hand stitched!"

"Don't worry, I've already taken care of it--"

"Well where is she? Can I talk to her?"

"Henry, calm down. I promise you, she's alright--"

"Good, then I'm on my way now." She hesitated.

"I'm not sure that's the best idea…" Henry's hand hovered over his car keys.

"What do you mean? I need her home, Laura." The worry in his voice made her heart pinch.

"I know, but I think she should stay here for a bit. What the hell happened? She was in a complete state… are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine - and I still don't bloody know! She's been acting strangely and I pushed too hard trying to find out why. I think something's up with her job, but it's not like her to just run off… something else must have happened. I've never seen her like it before, she got so angry she smashed a bottle she was holding. Has she really not said anything to you?"

"No, but then you know how stubborn she is. Don't worry, she's welcome to stay but I'll try and get her home as soon as I can. Right, I better go ring round and see if I can get some antibiotics, her hand will be okay but I don't want it getting infected."

"Yeah, sure, sorry I'll let you go. Thanks for all of this though and I'm sorry you were disturbed so late. How are Jack and the kids?"

"Yeah, all good. He'll be back in time for Christmas so my mum's looking after them while I sort out the house."

"Oh God, I'm sorry we're bothering you."

"Nah, I'm enjoying the company actually. I haven't seen her in ages so it'll be good to catch up. Please don't worry yourself, though."

"Easier said than done. To be honest, I'm afraid she won't want to come back."

"Don't be silly, she adores you. All will come right eventually, okay?"

"I hope so. Please keep an eye on her though, I'm worried about her state of mind. She isn't eating, either." She hesitated again, wondering whether or not to tell him Ollie hadn't touched her breakfast.

"I will, and I'll keep you updated. Take care of yourself, alright? And stop worrying."

"Okay, you take care as well… and give her my love." She gave her assurances and they said their goodbyes. She then peered through the kitchen door. Ollie was still sitting in the armchair, staring into space.

***

Friday 8:11 pm

"Ollie? Wh-what are you doing here?" She was in no mood for stupid questions and quickly but carefully pushed past her mother. "Ollie, don't go up there… he won't want to talk!" She let her mother's voice bounce off the stairs. When she came to the right door, she found herself holding her breath.

"… Dad? Dad, it's me, Ollie." He lifted his sagging head from the pillow and blinked until his eyes came into focus.

"W-why… why are you here?! Get out… now! Go on, go…" His rage quickly dissolved into a coughing fit.

"Dad, please. I've been trying to see you for weeks. I even had mum leave the phone by your bed so I could ring. B-but that doesn't matter now, how are you?" For several minutes he didn't respond, choosing instead to keep his cold gaze fixed on her face. Eventually, she looked away.

"Thirty-three."

"… I-I'm sorry?"

"Thirty-three years of age… and what do you have to show for it?" Her mouth went dry. "You should be a director at that company, and what are you? A glorified calculator. Why don't you toddle on back to him, while you still can? He'll get bored of you eventually…"

"That's not true."

"Oh, but it is. He doesn't love you. You're a failure, my girl. My biggest disappointment." There was no use countering his words with the same arguments she'd made time and time again. Compared to her sisters, she'd always been treated unfairly. And that wasn't about to change.

"… I-I just came to say, I'm sorry. For everything. I forgive you as well. Please, be at peace Dad. I love you." She then hurried from the room, almost bumping into her mother who it appeared had been listening in the entire time. They stared at each other for a moment. "I… wish you could have done more to help us." Her mother went to speak, then stopped herself. Ollie looked to the floor, her tears blurring her vision. "Goodbye, mum."

***

Monday

"Are you warm enough, darling? Here, let me put the seat warmers on…"

"I'm fine, love. Honest." Henry stopped fidgeting with the dials and the pair locked eyes for a moment. She cleared her throat. "… Thanks for coming to get me. And I'm sorry, for all the… theatrics." He smiled softly.

"Don't be daft. I'm just glad you're alright."

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have handled things the way I did or said--"

"Darling, it's alright. And I'm sorry too. You said you needed space and I should have listened." An idea then popped into Henry's head. He didn't know if he could pull it off, but he'd look into it the minute they got back. "Christ, have you ever seen so much traffic on these roads? I'm sorry, I'll try and get us home as quick as I can."

"Don't worry, I don't need to be back for nine."

"Oh? Okay, well we should still be back before ten." Henry shifted awkwardly in his seat. It was less than a week until Christmas and although he was desperate to know more, he wasn't about to risk asking questions.

"It's fine actually, I won't be working again until January. I've… decided to go freelance." There was a long pause.

"Ollie… did you lose your job?" She sighed.

"Not exactly. Do you remember that presentation I had to give?" He nodded eagerly, trying to balance his attention between her and the road. "Well, it was to suggest some better ways to balance the books… the company's bracing for recession. Anyway, afterward, my new boss thanked me for my 'little talk,' but said he'd decided just to merge my department instead. I could either take a pay cut or redundancy. I gave notice right there and then. The cheeky fucker even asked if he could take me out for a drink and see whether he could find something else for me." She sniffed hard and wiped her face.

"Oh, my darling…"

"No, it's fine. Really. I know someone else in the company who went freelance about a year ago. They've already let me know they're happy to help me get set up. It'll be tough at first and I'll need to be close to my client base… but in the long term I should have greater flexibility." She tried to smile convincingly but Henry could see the fear in her eyes. At that moment, her phone pinged.

"Well, I'll be here for you every step of the way. I'll always support— darling? What's wrong?" She quickly shut off the screen.

"I, uh… nothing. It's nothing."

"… Ollie, what's going on?" She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat.

"It's nothing, darling. I mean, nothing that's worth discussing at the moment." The rest of the journey home was silent.

***

Boxing Day

Things had more or less returned to normal and they spent a lovely, if hectic, couple of days with Henry's family. They travelled back late Christmas day night so they could spend Boxing Day together. They even waited to exchange gifts. It was a tradition they'd kept from the beginning of their relationship. No matter their plans over the holidays, Boxing Day was just for the two of them. And this year Ollie was more grateful for it than ever before. She wasn't normally awake before Henry, but she took the opportunity to curl into his chest and feel the warmth of his skin against her own. "Mmmm g'morning… do I take it I'm getting my Christmas present before breakfast?" He growled into her neck, the sensation making her squeal.

"Oh behave yourself, I was cold… that's all."

"Mm-hm, I believe ya…" Henry climbed on top of her, pulling down the waistband of her pants while he smothered her with kisses.

"Henry! S-stop it!" He harrumphed, collapsed on top of her, and buried his face in her neck. "Er… what are you doing?! Get off, I can't breathe!"

"You said you were cold so I'm keeping you warm! Mmmm you've got your baby smell…" Henry breathed deeply, refusing to budge. She sighed.

***

"Hey, wait a minute, where're my bloody presents?" Henry's nose had led him straight into the kitchen, where she was making a cooked breakfast. He then tried to lift a slice of bacon straight out of the frying pan, causing her to swat his hand.

"OW! I only wanted a nibble… am I to be starved of a Boxing Day morn as well?"

"Oh shut up. How many times do I have to tell you? No eating until I've plated up. And your presents are under the tree, santa obviously didn't check his list twice this year." Henry smirked and shuffled off into the living room. "Hey! No bloody peeking!"

***

"There you are my sweet boy, is that good?" She watched as Kal dived into the bowl of cooked giblets, smoothing down the knitted Christmas jumper she'd made for him, over his back.

"Hey, why does he get to have his presents before me?"

"Cos he's not a whiney little shit. That's why."

"Well, it's a good job I'm the forgiving sort. Heads up!" Henry lobbed a present straight at her, almost conking her on the head.

"Jesus Henry, you almost took me out!" But he just grinned and carried on munching away at some leftover toast.

"W-what… what’s this?" She opened the box to find a large, plastic magnifying glass.

"Well, you know how you're really vain and won't get glasses--"

"I'm vain?!?!"

"… I thought it might come in handy," Henry then reached over and clicked a button on the side, "see? It lights up and look, it even folds in half…"

"Oh? Well then you know where you can stick it…" He struggled to hold in his laughter.

"What? That's a lovely gift! I bet you didn’t put as much thought into mine…"

"Well why don't you open it and see? I'm tempted to throw it but I might strain my wrist…" Henry lifted the heavy box onto his lap.

"Christ, what did you get me?" He ripped away the paper.

"It's a Hollywood mirror, like the ones you get in your trailers. Now you can be the star of the show, even at home…" Henry rubbed his jaw, trying to hide his smile.

"Well, d'ya like it?" He nodded, still unable to look straight into her deadpan eyes. "Oh good. You got any more for me?" Henry pointed towards another box. She gasped the minute she opened it.

"You got me new headphones?! Oh, Henry… these must have cost a fortune!"

"Do you like them? They're proper noise-cancelling ones."

"So I don't have to listen to you anymore?! Oh my God, I love them! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He chuckled.

"Well?!"

"Well, what?!"

"Where's my kiss?" She sighed and plonked herself next to him, pecking his fuzzy cheek. "Is that last one for me?" Henry eyed the final box beneath the tree. She gulped. Normally they promised only to buy each other a couple of joke presents. She reasoned that he spoiled her enough, even though they both knew that wasn't quite true. She'd never let Henry spend much money on her. She felt she had enough of her own and more to the point, it made her uncomfortable. But she hadn't anticipated the headphones. Uneasily, she watched as he ripped open the paper. Henry stared down at the gift for several moments. A boxset of Witcher books.

"I, er… thought you might want to double-check the source material." To this day, she didn't know how she managed to keep a straight face. He cleared his throat, put the books aside, and got to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"You've got a five-minute headstart."

***

Henry spent most of the next hour chasing her around the house, culminating in sex which lasted a further two. "Hey, do you remember our first Christmas?" He whispered eventually, his body still wrapped around her own.

"Mmm, you mean where you broke the oven door checking on the turkey?"

"I was just seeing if it was done!"

"… Or to make sure it was cooking evenly."

"Well what can I say, I'd yet to fully appreciate your culinary prowess. I think even my mum's turkey can't beat yours."

"It did that year." Henry chuckled. "But thanks for the bargaining chip. I've got something to hold over you now if ever you should cross me…"

"Ollie, look at me." She turned her head. "You've got to learn to be more forgiving…" She swatted him on the arm. "Right, come on, we can’t lay here all day."

"Oh, I thought you'd want another round?"

"Always. But come on, get dressed and then meet me in the car."

"Why? Are you throwing me out? On Boxing Day?! Oh, Henry. It was only some books." Henry ignored her deadpan face.

"Well, as deserved as that might be, it's actually so I can give you your last gift. Just put together a bag of any extra stuff you want to bring, your clothes are already packed."

"What d'ya mean? Where are we going?"

"You'll see. Come on, shift it." He spanked her backside and pulled her out of bed.

"Well hang on, I better get some knickers as well. I know you won't have packed them." Henry smirked.

***

She jogged downstairs, her rucksack already on her back, only to find Henry still in the living room. "Oh no, don't tell me the car won’t start? Didn't you only just fill it up?" The look on his face was unreadable and his arms remained crossed. "Henry, what is it?"

"Your mum just phoned." A pit opened in her stomach. "She's been trying to get hold of you since Monday. Your father’s been moved into end of life care."

"Yes, I know." She dropped her rucksack to the floor and began rooting around it, more for something to do at that moment than anything else.

"Apparently he's been sick for a while."

“I only found out last month."

"… And you didn't think to tell me?" She moved her chargers to another pocket, concerned they'd scratch her tablet. "Ollie?"

"What, Henry?" She snapped back up, exasperation now lacing her voice. He had to tread carefully.

"Why didn't you say anything?!" She sighed.

"Because you'd just given me the promise ring and found out you were playing Superman again! Things were so happy that I wanted to wait, but then they told you they were recasting, and after that came Christmas. When exactly was I meant to tell you?!"

"Don't make excuses Ollie, there's never a right moment for that sort of news and you know it. I mean I knew something was wrong, but I never suspected it was this. You've spent all this time with it weighing on you, and for what? If it was my father you wouldn't have been able to do enough for me!"

"Your Dad's not like mine!" She tried desperately to hold back her tears. Henry rushed towards her. "No, stop! I’m okay, really."

"For God's sake, stop it! No, you're not. None of this is okay! Is that where you were Friday? What the hell did he say to you?!" Relief washed over her. At least her mother hadn't told him that much.

"Nothing, we said our goodbyes and parted peacefully. I was just exhausted by the time I got back, it was a bloody long day."

"Stop lying to me, Ollie. And why aren't you talking to your mum? You can't just cut off your family— "

"Henry, enough. I'm not discussing it. Today's supposed to be our day." Henry sighed and bowed his head.

"… I just wish that, for once, you could trust me enough to be honest. That's all." He kissed her forehead, picked up her rucksack, and headed out the door.

***

For the first half an hour, the journey was mostly silent. Eventually, she couldn't stand it anymore. "I'm sorry, okay? I hate that part of my life, and I didn't want any more of it bleeding into everything we've built together--"

"Ollie, you never have to hide anything from me!"

"Just let me finish. I thought I was protecting us from all of it but… clearly not. So, in the new year, I'm gunna get some help."

"What, you mean like… therapy? Darling, I'm not going anywhere, surely you know that?"

"It's not just for us, I need some help trying to process everything better as well." Henry's heart sank.

"Okay… but please know that I'm here for you. I mean it Ollie, there's nothing you can't talk to me about. Will you let me pay for the sessions? What else can I do?"

"My savings will cover it, darling. And you do enough for me, you always have." Another silence descended over the car.

***

After an hour and a half, they finally arrived at a little cottage, perched along with its neighbour in the corner of a meadow that rolled down to a private beach. "Oh my God, is that the sea?!" Ollie clasped her hands together in delight. Henry just smiled, grabbed their bags, and led her into one of the most beautiful living rooms she'd ever seen. Low oak beams and a large, roaring fireplace framed the neatly whitewashed walls, all currently adorned with holly and ivy. "So… first impressions?"

"It's beautiful," She ducked in and out of the other rooms, her excitement only growing, "I could stay here forever!" His smile grew wider.

"Well that's lucky… cos it's yours." Henry winged a set of keys right at her, the shock of what he'd just said almost causing her to drop them.

"You what?!"

"I've still got some paperwork to sign, but it's yours darling."

"I, I…" She fell to the sofa, struggling to comprehend what was happening. He gently took a seat beside her. "Henry… you can't buy me a house!"

"Why not?" She jumped to her feet and quickly started pacing about.

"Because it's too much! We already have a lovely house! Oh my God, it must have cost the earth, at least me pay half--" Henry climbed to his feet and rubbed her shoulders in a vain attempt to calm her down.

"You're not paying a bloody penny. Consider it our holiday home if you must, but I wanted you to have a place to go when you need space. I know you find being at home tough when I'm away, so this can be a change of scenery. You love the sea and I'll feel a lot better if I know you're safe and comfortable here. And don't worry, there's a lovely older couple next door, they've already told me they're happy to help look after the place when we're gone." She was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak. He wiped the tears from her eyes and cradled her face, "will you please accept it?" She dashed back into the hallway and Henry could hear the unzipping of her rucksack.

"… Only if you accept this. It doesn't quite compare to a house, but I hope you'll like it all the same."

"You got me a Christmas card?" She ignored his deadpan face and snatched back the envelope. She then took a deep breath.

“Henry William - and one I still can't pronounce - Cavill. You live to irritate me," Henry's look of confusion was replaced by a set of pursed lips, "you somehow manage to make more mess than Kal, as well as shed twice as much hair--"

"Is this actually leading somewhere?"

"And I'll be amazed if I don't lose all of my hair by the time you lose the rest of yours. All that being said, I don't want to miss another second of any of it, ever again. Will you marry me?"

"… What?" His voice was small and confused.

"I said, will you marry me?!" Henry blinked a few times and took a couple of steps back, rubbing his forehead as he chuckled.

"Are you serious?" She nodded eagerly. "No… you want to marry me? For real?!"

"Yes!" He then rushed towards her. Before she knew it, she was in a fireman's lift being wildly spun about while Henry whooped and cheered at the top of his lungs. Poor Kal could only bark in confusion.

"HENRY! P-PUT ME DOWNNN!" By the time he stood her upright, she was close to falling down. Henry grabbed then her cheeks, which gradually helped the room stop spinning.

"Are you sure though, darling? You were adamant about not getting married. You're not just doing it because, well… I mean a lot's going on at the moment."

"Henry, whether it be love or demonic possession, I truly wish to marry you--"

"But you're not just asking because I bought the house, are you? Are these actually Playstation vouchers?" He picked up the envelope that had dropped to the floor in all the chaos.

"Oh… I thought you wanted Xbox ones?" Henry's mouth fell open, causing her to snicker. "Why don't you just open it?" He eyed her suspiciously before tearing open the envelope. "As I was the one to propose, I thought you'd probably want to pick out the rings. So… is that a yes then?" Henry's vision blurred as he looked down at the invitation for a fitting at a bespoke jeweller.

"Henry?!" She wiped the tears that spilled down his face as he nodded.

"… But what about our promise rings?"

"Well, they can be our engagement rings." Henry chewed his lip, still struggling to believe what was happening.

"So are you going to be a 'Mrs?' And take my last name?"

"Mm-hm."

"Are you gunna wear a dress?"

"Mm-hm."

"Can I call you 'wife,' now? All the time?"

"Mmm… let's say twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night. And only after we're married."

"Okay well let's circle back to that… can we have guests? Not too many but a few? Where are we going to have it? And when?!" His face was so eager and bright that she couldn't help but smile.

"Well… this place looks like it's got a nice little garden. Why don't we have it out there as soon as the weather's warmer? We could then go back to ours and have a garden party, that way more people could attend afterward--" Henry quickly pulled her into a tight hug.

"… You don't have to do this just to make me happy." She smiled against the middle of his chest, the weight of his arms around her only adding to her comfort.

"I'm doing it because of how happy you make me, you silly sod."

"I love you, my darling."

"Right up until you leave more for an eighteen-year-old?" Henry tutted.

"Look at me, I'm not going anywhere. How could I ever leave my wally Ollie?"

"But what if my arse gets bigger?"

"… How big are we talking?" She bopped him on the arm. "Well I suppose I can always have the doors widened," she rolled her eyes, "don't worry! As you said, I won't have much hair left by then, no one else will want me." She sighed. "I love you, my darling."

"And I, you. Fuck knows why."

"Well, maybe this'll also help. I'm not leaving in January."

"What? Why?! You said I could have this place to myself!" Henry roared with laughter.

"I thought you'd be pleased!"

"Well… I suppose. But what happened?"

"Filming got pushed back." She eyed him warily.

"Henry--"

"Darling, I want to be with you--"

"But you can't just turn down work! What will--" Henry gently clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Ah, much better. Now, are you gunna say it back or what?" She shoved his hand away.

"Say what, you arch idiot?"

"You know what!" She sighed again.

"I love you too. There, happy?" Henry tilted her chin and kissed her deeply.

"More than any man on God's green earth."

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond @fanfictionaddiction99 @caffeinatedfestivalsheep

[spnexploration]

Pack chapter 22

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Madison

Series summary: Omega!Reader is thrown into a world she's not expecting when her mate turns out to be a hunter, and she's not used to Alpha & Omega Pack dynamics.

Chapter summary: The morning after your night alone.

Chapter warnings: reader self-conscious including about her body, but nothing particularly detailed

Word count: 2.6k (long one!)

A/N: I forgot to add the last chapter to the masterlist when I posted it, which I have now done. Sorry about that! Make sure you read it first.

This fulfils the nesting square of my 2023 SPN AU bingo.

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 21 <- -> Part 23

“Good morning Y/N, how’d you sleep?” Sam asked as I trudged into the kitchen.

I just groaned in response.

He chuckled, “You really are perfect for Dean. There's fresh coffee if you'd like some.” I nodded and he fetched me a cup.

I was halfway through before I thought of sharing my news. “Dean messaged me when he got to Claire, at like 3am.”

“Yeah, he messaged me too. He said he's going to work the case with her today, then decide if they stay for tomorrow. I think he realises she'll rebel even more if he dismisses her work.”

I nodded, focused back on my coffee.

“So what are we doing today?” I asked when I was feeling more awake.

“That’s up to you. We can do some more lore if you'd like, you can spend the day reading or watching TV, or you can put yourself in Madison's hands and let her go crazy keeping you entertained.”

I laughed. “Maybe we can do some lore and then I'll see if I'm up for Madi entertainment.”

“Good choice. Grab some breakfast and then meet me in the library. I'll fill Mads in when she's out of the shower.”

---

Sam had me try reading some lore myself and try to make sense of it, all related to the topics we'd covered yesterday. I didn't realise how complicated killing monsters was!

After a while I was feeling tired and run down, so I headed off to Dean's room for a nap. It was probably just the poor sleep I’d had last night without Dean around. I snuggled into his pillow and fell asleep instantly.

---

I woke later. I was not feeling better. I felt so cold, but I was drenched in sweat. My joints ached, it was hard to move them at all.

It took a lot of effort, but I made it to the door finally. I was going to call out for Sam and Madi, hope that they had medication for whatever illness must've struck me down.

I opened the door but felt out of breath with the effort of crossing the room. I had to get my breath back before I could call out.

Suddenly, I heard hurried footsteps.

“Y/N?” Sam called, sounding worried. “We're coming.”

How did he know I needed him?

He rounded the corner a few seconds later, Madison hot on his heels.

“I think I'm sick,” I wheezed out.

“Omega, you're in heat,” he said gently. “I smelt it as soon as you opened the door.”

“But this feels- I've never felt like I was dying before!” I started to fall as I used up all my energy complaining. Sam quickly caught me and carried me back to Dean's bed. Now that he said it, I could feel slick gathering between my legs, but given how much sweat I was covered in, I hadn't really noticed before.

His phone started ringing. It said 'Claire Novak’ on the caller ID.

He answered and put it on speaker, “Hey Claire.”

“Sam! Dean just went into a rut and he is fucking mental! What the hell do I do?!”

I thanked my lucky stars that my body had settled on Dean, that our cycles had aligned. But now I just had to get to him, to be claimed. I shivered. What if my heat finished before I got to him?

“First, tell him Y/N is in heat,” Sam said to Claire. “It will reassure him some.”

“Sam says Y/N is in heat,” she said slightly muffled, like she'd turned the phone away. “He's growling, hang on.”

There were some strange noises and then Dean’s voice, much lower than normal, “Omega?”

“I'm here Alpha,” I managed.

“You... ok?” he sounded like speaking was hard for him.

“Yeah, I'll be ok.” I didn't want to tell him how unwell I felt.

Sam gave me a knowing look and said, “Alpha, can you put Claire back on? I'm going to work with her to get you two together.” Dean growled slightly throughout, but the sounds of the phone passing happened again.

“Sam?” Claire asked. “He didn't say anything, he just gave me the phone back.”

“Ok,” Sam continued, “The next thing you do is that you submit to him. If you start challenging him when he is in an unfilled rut, away from the Omega he is yet to claim, he is going to go feral. I recommend calling him 'Alpha’ and barring your neck if he gets antsy.”

“Great,” she deadpanned. The teenage sass was practically dripping.

“And then you get him back here, as fast as you can.”

“What about the case?” she asked petulantly.

“Claire, I promise, we will help you on this case. But this is literally the second time he has gone into a rut after finding his mate, their mating has already been threatened by factors outside their control. They cannot miss this opportunity. Plus I’ve got an Omega here who’s about to go through the worst heat of her life, she needs him.”

I gulped at Sam’s words.

“Ok, I get it. Sorry. I’ll get him back.”

“Thanks Claire.”

“Bye.”

Sam hung up and turned to me. “It's gonna be a while before they can get here, so we need to get you comfortable.”

“What- what if he doesn’t?”

“That's not going to happen. You've only just gone into heat, and even your normal heat probably lasts longer than one day?” I nodded. “This one is likely to be longer, and worse. Dean got to Claire in about half a day. There is plenty of time, Omega.”

I sniffled and he stroked my hair gently.

“How about we get you some painkillers and a cool bath or shower to try and drop this fever a bit, and then Madi can stay with you. I don't think you're going to want to be around another Alpha too much, but I'll help with the cooling down because I don't think you can hold yourself up right now. Does that sound ok?”

I nodded, too tired and achey to reply.

“I'm going to take off some of your clothes, ok?” I half-heartedly nodded. “Omega, I need your words. I'm not going to do anything you don't consent to.”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“Ok, thank you.” He started to pull Dean's flannel off me and I whined. “I know, I know, we’ll get back to Dean’s scent as soon as we can. Now, bath or shower?”

I shrugged. He kept gently removing my clothes until I was in just my underwear. I wished he was Dean. Partway through Madi had brought me painkillers and water, but I didn't feel any better yet. Everything ached and every so often I shivered, although Sam assured me I was actually hot.

“I'm going to carry you to the bathroom, ok?” I nodded and he lifted me up bridal style. I leant my head on his shoulder and, whilst he smelled reassuringly like Pack, I just wanted Dean. I started to cry.

“I know, I know,” he murmured reassuringly. “We’re gonna get Dean back as fast as we can, ok? And you're gonna feel a bit better soon. You're gonna be ok.”

He made it to the bathroom where Madi was standing next to the full bath. “Ready?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I mumbled.

He went to his knees and lowered me into the water. It felt strange at first and I clung to Sam's neck, but after a few moments it felt better and I let go of him.

“Now, ordinarily we'd leave you alone, but I don't think you're well enough for that right now.”

I nodded. I felt too weak to do much more, which was probably Sam's point.

Madi wet a face washer and put it on my forehead. I lay back and closed my eyes. I was starting to feel a little bit better. My joints weren't aching quite as much.

I relaxed.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said, tapping my face. I didn't know how much time had passed. “No falling asleep in the bath.” I blearily opened my eyes and tried to glare at him. He chuckled, “I'm not about to let you drown in our own house.”

I started to get uncomfortable, trying to find a way to position myself. And the water was starting to feel cold. Sam must've noticed my fidgeting as he said, “How about we get you out?” I nodded. “You wanna try standing up?” I nodded again and he reached in, lifting me out and gently placing me on my feet on the mat. Madi wrapped me in a towel.

I was still too sore to do much other than whimper as Madi dried me off. It was like having the worst case of flu ever.

Slick flooded out of me into my wet undies and down my legs. I saw Sam's nostrils flare as he smelled it, and he swallowed thickly.

“Are- are you ok?” I asked him, suddenly worried that he might be unable to control his reactions.

“Yes, sorry I scared you. I'm not going to hurt you. The scent of Omega in heat is just a bit, uh, overwhelming to Alpha senses. But it's fine,” he said with a reassuring smile.

I felt like I knew what he meant. His Alpha smell was starting to get overpowering. I scrunched my nose up a little as I smelled him and he chuckled.

“I think you're entering the horny phase of heat,” Madi observed wryly. “Let's get you back to your room and we can kick Sam out before you start scratching him for getting too close to you.” Sam laughed.

“Huh?”

“I might have clawed Dean when he came into the kitchen and surprised me when I was in heat one time,” she said with a smirk. “He was literally just walking past but I, uh, reacted with claws before my brain engaged. Anyway, enough about me, I think you're dry enough.”

“Are you ok if I pick you up again?” Sam asked me.

I was still feeling weak and shaky, so I nodded. He lifted me into his arms and my skin started to crawl. I didn't like Sam touching me, he was wrong, wrong!

“It's ok, I'm going to put you down and leave in just a sec,” he murmured. I was holding myself tense, probably having my facial expressions tell the story of my discomfort.

I suddenly realised I was starting to growl.

I couldn't stop.

He placed me on Dean's bed and hastily backed away. I grabbed Dean's flannel and rubbed it over my face, utterly enthralled with its scent.

“Message me if you need anything,” he said to Madi. “I'll keep you in the loop if I hear anything from Claire or Dean.”

He left. I stopped growling.

“Alright, let's get you out of those wet things,” Madi said.

I tried to reach behind me to unclasp my bra, but my arms were too weak to undo it. I started to cry, scared and annoyed about what was happening to me.

Madi sat next to me and wrapped her arm around my back. “I promise, it'll get better. I think you're feeling rubbish right now partly because of your massive fever, and partly because you're away from your mate. When Dean gets here, I promise it will get better.”

“Omega biology sucks.”

“Oh, so much! Ruts look way easier to get through than the shit we have to put up with.”

“Was it like this for you? I didn't expect to feel this much like I’d been hit by a truck.”

“No, I had Sam with me. So whilst I felt bad when it started, we pretty quickly got to dealing with it. And it sucks you don't have Dean, but he is on his way. You just gotta hang in there for a bit longer.”

I sniffled. More slick flooded out of me, for no apparent reason, and I felt weirdly like my skin was missing something. I started to fidget, trying to work out what I was feeling.

“Ok, ok, before you get all antsy, let's get you in fresh clothes.” I’d almost forgotten my bra and undies were wet from the bath, so distracted by the various painful and strange sensations from my body. I let Madi help me out of them and into a pair of summer pyjamas.

I grabbed Dean's flannel again, rubbing it over me. Then I smelled his pillow, bringing that to me too. I tried to wrap them around me, whining when it wouldn't work.

“You ever built a nest before, Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I think you’re trying to nest. Hang on,” she pulled out her phone and tapped away at it.

 I couldn't focus on what she was doing, I was too busy trying to work out what to do with Dean's things. I'd positioned myself over his side of the bed, throwing back the covers so I could smell it better. I kept moving his pillow and his flannel around, but it just wouldn't do what I wanted. I was starting to shiver again, and Madison held her hand to my forehead.

“Fuck,” she muttered, “you're burning up again.”

A few moments later there was a knock at the door and Sam pushed a laundry basket of clothes in. I growled at him. I didn't mean to, I just couldn't help it. He quickly shut the door.

I finally smelt the clothes, now that Sam's wrongness had gone. Dean!! I reached out weakly to the basket and Madi picked it up and brought it to me.

“I asked Sam to get all of the clothes out of the hamper that were yours or Dean's and smelled like Dean. I thought you might like to use them in your nest.”

I purred at her and set about arranging the clothes. I don't think I've ever purred in my life.

I had to admit, now that I was putting things where they felt most right, I was clearly making a nest on the bed. I was surrounding myself in Dean's scent, picking up each item and carefully deciding where exactly to put it.

Once it was done, I tried to position myself in it. It wasn't big enough. It wasn't quite right. I wanted Dean!! I whined.

My skin was feeling strange again. I tried to scratch it to make myself feel better. But it wasn't quite itchy? It was something else. I rubbed it. Yes, that was better. But it still wasn't right.

I moved my hands around on my body. It felt a bit better. But not enough. Now I was getting frustrated that it wasn't feeling better enough.

I whined again.

“Where are your toys?” Madi asked me.

“What toys?”

“Sex toys. Can't you tell you’re getting super horny?”

Oh. Maybe that's why my skin felt weird. And why it didn't feel like the right touching. It didn't feel like normal arousal, and I’d been so distracted by everything else, I hadn't even recognised it.

I moved my hands lower. I slipped my fingers under the waistband of my shorts and approached my clit. Fuck it was sensitive right now!

I tried to get Dean's scent. I tried to find the best way to be in my nest. I tried to rub myself, but it felt like trying to tickle yourself. I wasn’t getting anywhere. My skin was crawling again and my joints were aching. I was so annoyed!

Madi appeared in front of me. I had forgotten all about her. She held out her hand.

“Try this,” she said as she handed me a vibrator. “Trust me.”

.

.

.

Taglist:

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@lyarr24

@waynes-multiverse

@leigh70

@malindacath

@ellie-andthemachine

@iprobablyshipit91

@muhahaha303

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@supernatural--whore

@nerdymuffinbonkcloud

[leupagus]

It's all fun and games until Hardy reminds everyone he is an undead eldritch horror

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

She put Daisy's remark about "true love's promise" out of her head for the next few days, pushing hard against the case; against Katie Harford and her stupid certainty; against Tom and his stupid certainty; against Hardy himself, although that was about as effective as punching a brick wall. Besides, he was looking bedraggled enough without her nagging.

It was a different sort of bedraggled than she'd seen during the Latimer case, or Sandbrook. There was none of the stretched-thin-ness, as though he were about to give out at a moment's notice. Now it was a coiling sort of tension in his movements, as though he were waiting for the chance to strike. It might have bothered her once; but sat across the table from Leo Humphries as he proudly recalled all the women he'd terrorised, the brutality he'd forced on young Michael Lucas, she was almost impatient for it to start.

And then it did.

"Makes you feel in control," Humphries said, smiling and serene. Ellie watched him closely and hardly noticed the room darkening, as though the lights had been submerged. The shushing pulse of the sea, never far off, grew louder. "For that moment, there's nothing else. Just you in charge. There's a moment where you're in harmony with the world, and it's just… beautiful."

"It is, isn't it," said Hardy. Ellie'd been focused on Humphries throughout the interview, his lawyer and Hardy on the edges of her vision, so it wasn't until the lawyer gasped that she realised something was wrong. She looked over at Hardy, who—

But he wasn't a who, in that moment. The thing next to her shifted and pulled at Hardy's bones from within, skin stretched and sagging in ways no living creature could withstand. And then it stood up, taller than Hardy; taller than the ever-shrinking room, stooped and looming.

"Power over someone, it's such a pleasure," it hissed. The cups of half-drunk water began to bubble and seethe; the recorder made a ghastly hissing noise and sparked out. "Someone pathetic and helpless, who can't even scream for help."

The lawyer made a dive for the door but Hardy was too quick for Humphries, arms twisting as they stretched across the room to pin him into a corner with one blue-grey hand clapped over his mouth, its fingers blackened with rot.

"But there's greater pleasures than that, Leo Humphries," said Hardy, through a mouth ruined and twisted, the jaw hanging at an unnatural angle. (Not unnatural, of course — nothing more natural than than a corpse.) "You can have all of them. I'll show you every one. Do you want that, Leo Humphries? Just ask me."

The hand lifted away and Humphries collapsed to the ground. "Please," he babbled, trying to crawl still further away, though there was nowhere left to go. "Please, please, no—"

Ellie was on her feet, grabbing at the thing beside her; even as she did she wondered why. What she could possibly do? Did she even want to? Wasn't this what she'd imagined — the rapist forced to endure horrors, fear and pain, with no hope of escape.

But instead it was Hardy who pulled himself back. Slowly, like the receding of the tide, the room expanded and lightened until it was real again. Ellie now held handfuls of cheap suit jacket, and Hardy's form contracted and folded in on itself until he looked almost, very nearly, human.

The door, still open from when the lawyer had escaped, fell off its hinges and landed with a clatter on the floor.

"You just had to ask," Hardy said, as Humphries shivered in the corner.

It was well past dawn by the time the paperwork was done. IT assured her that the confession had been recorded, even if there'd been a glitch toward the end of the interview that fried the device. The accused had been remanded to custody and his lawyer had requested a transfer — she was moving to be nearer her mum and dad, she said, in Northumberland. "I don't think I'll ever be back here," she said, her smile waxy and fixed. "Not ever. My firm will be in touch to provide him with new counsel."

Ellie finally left the station with enough time to get home and help the boys get ready for school, before going over to Trish's and telling her the news. Instead she sat down on the front steps, breathing carefully in and out and trying not to cry, or vomit, or scream.

He followed her, of course he did. Was she supposed to be afraid of him now? She'd been afraid of people before, even with her badge and her taser. For the past few years she'd been afraid of her own husband, though not as afraid as she'd been of herself. But as Hardy came closer she felt her heart unclench, the furious grief in her stomach dissolve.

"Ed Burnett's gone," he said. "And Jim Atwood." He paused; she could picture him now, looking down at her. "You okay?"

What a question. "No."

Hardy sat beside her, uncomfortable and comforting. "We have him now. That footage will send him down."

He was right; even if the confession didn't hold, even if Michael tried to change his story, those horrific videos had a solid chain of custody. Leo Humphries would stay in prison a long time.

Not long enough.

"He is not what men are," Hardy said. "He's an aberration."

"Is that what you are?" she asked, finally looking at him. "In there. Was that the real you?"

He didn't seem angry or offended. "It's all the real me, Miller."

"Is that why you told me about the iron and the wood and the ashes and everything?" She curled further into herself. "So if you go too far, I can—"

"I'd hope you'd arrest me first," he said. "Or at least talk to the Chief Super." When she didn't say anything, he shook his head. "It's my responsibility to not go too far, Miller. Not yours or anyone else's. Just mine."

"Then why tell me?"

"Because I trust you," Hardy said, as though it were simple as that.

Perhaps it was.

She untucked her hand from under her arm. He didn't move away as she put her hand to his jaw; the skin was cool and damp, as though he'd been standing too close to the spray of the ocean. "I don't know if you should," she said, holding back a shiver. It was too cold for June. Hardy's doing, maybe. Summers before him had been warm and grey, full of lazy mornings on the beach interrupted by a friendly pattering of rain. But there wasn't a cloud in the sky today. "I don't know if I'm worth it."

"You are," Hardy said, his voice low and soft, barely louder than the wind. The stubble on his cheek rasped against her palm.

Ellie shook her head. "I would've let you kill him. I think I even wanted it." She let her hand drop. "But I trust you, too." It felt like a confession. Or a promise.

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (p.2)

mason and serena finally managed to find a middle ground in their arrangements. and it made them realise they could truly work together for the better.

playboy!mason mount x princess!OC

word count: 2.3k

tw: only what's mentioned in the masterlist

notes: as a compensation for the delay to the 1st chapter, here's some special double updates for this week! but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not yet beta-read.

tags: @missgaygurl @pingyu-in-wonderland <3 (lemme know if you want to be added!)

<<part 1 - part 3>> sweetest devotion masterlist here

despite his initial reluctance and annoyed mumbles, Serena managed to sit Mason down for a little longer. long enough to cover the basic terms of communication between them, because Mason was right—they at least needed to know each other's whereabouts in case the palace dropped sudden calls.

Serena, specifically, asked Mason to tell her if he's going over to his lover's house. in her defence, it was in order to prepare some cover-ups for Mason, no matter how bitter her tongue tasted as she spitted out the lies she'd cooked beforehand.

it was what you have agreed on, she thought inwardly after placing down her phone, done with another weekly check from the palace. ever since Mason’s private location were almost scandalised, the palace scheduled a weekly check if their good reputation wasn’t on the verge of being tarnished while promising a sudden call, should they see the condition fit—whatever the condition was.

Serena sent out a text to Mason, reminding him to be careful—which was the first—and of a banquet they needed to attend on behalf of the Eldorran palace in two weeks, as well as the information of the next doctor's appointment the following morning, should the footballer want to come. 

the same text was what ticked something at the back of Mason's mind. it niggled him, more so than any other time he received texts from Serena, that he had to scroll up their conversation window. 

Mason realised, after almost two full weeks now since they'd come to a truce to at least inform each other about their in-and-outs, that it was mostly him telling where he was going.

out of all things they'd exchanged one another, Serena only went out of the house a grand total of five times. those outings were also for shopping purposes—not even luxury shopping, but grocery shopping.

why she did that when Mason had hired a staff to take care of basic, simplistic errands was certainly intriguing, but at the end Mason decided to go against his instinct because why does he care?

unless it's of an urgent matter, he didn't care and he didn't want to care. he shouldn't care. they were strangers to begin with, and that was what they would end up as, unless where their child was concerned.

still, finding Serena unmoving from the kitchen stool, every time he passed down the living hall whenever he was home for some fresh linens, unnerved him all the same. 

“You're not going anywhere?”

Serena was honestly more used to being ignored while she scribbled something—the homemade recipes she magically managed to pull off from countless trials and errors, which lately was her hobby—in the kitchen whenever Mason was around only long enough for a cup of tea. So she looked up from her notepad, making sure she wasn't mishearing, and Mason couldn't help but feel weirded out because did I do something wrong?

“no, I do not have a place to go,” Serena gathered her stationery, realising they were all over the place. “Bar the monthly doctor visits.”

I must've done something wrong or else why would Serena tidy up the kitchen island?

“what about your study?”

the kettle made a whistling noise behind Serena's back. the woman stood up immediately and rushed for the brewing water. two of them? is she expecting me to stay over?

is she always like this whenever I come over?

“tea, perhaps, Mason?” albeit awkward, Serena offered him a small smile as she poured down the hot liquid. “to answer your query—it's been postponed.”

“why?”

“would you prefer the real reason or the one the palace releases?”

“both, if you can,” for some unbeknownst reason, Mason sat down this time. Serena had to hide her surprise behind her indifferent mask, the way she was raised. “may I?”

“this is your home, Mason,” Serena was merely stating a fact but somehow it kicked something inside of him. “it’s me that is rather intruding your space, no?”

Mason hissed at the first sip. he felt as if he was scolded by the scalding liquid.

“formally so I can focus on my pregnancy,” thankfully, the princess didn’t notice his discomfort and went ahead to gently shove his cup towards his direction. “but we all can agree that it would give them a bad look, would it not?”

everyone and their mothers could say that footballers are stupid people, having not gone through a normal formal education, but it didn't necessarily mean they were fools. Mason immediately caught on the implied meaning between Serena's line.

going around would jeopardise her life and would mean the opposite to the initial purpose of their marriage, which was to hide the fact that Serena was pregnant out of wedlock and to avoid being executed for that so-called mistake.

“how about having friends over?”

“Mason,” Serena sighed, a bitter smile making its way to her face. “you’re the closest thing I have to a friend.”

Mason couldn’t hide his surprise at her admission. despite being drunk, Mason did remember that she went to the club that eventful night where he was at, the night that led to their situation now, with so many people in tow. “didn’t you have so many friends when going to the club?”

bitter smile still intact, Serena looked up this time and levelled Mason’s gaze. “welcome to the lonely life of a princess, Mason Mount.”

“is that why you prepare 2 cups earlier, then?”

Serena's smile was still intact but her eyes had shifted the awkwardness somewhere else, now they were replaced by embarrassment, the emotion obviously present from the pinkish tinge on her cheeks.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

wishing Mason to stay over equaled wishing for the stars, so when Mason got up to go back to his girlfriend's house, Serena didn't waste more time to come back to reality.

she went on to tidying up the big mansion after finishing up her recipe of the day scribbles, then she made sure she'd left some portion of the dish for Mason, wrapping the plate with a foil so he wouldn't have a hard time heating them up if he felt like eating anytime he was home. 

none of the activities she did to pass up time in this humongous place was something of her routine—she was a princess, for God's sake. the palace might've enrolled her to basic life skills but that didn't mean she should be doing all this. Mason even had hired a helper for her but she let her go after the first week because Serena needed something to do while everything and everyone left her behind.

the only thing that kept her straying away from death caused by boredom was the thought of meeting her little one every month.

“it's just you and me, my love,” Serena liked to whisper against the cold air as she stroked the forming bump. up and down, up and down—just like her life, ironically. “you won't leave me alone, will you?”

just when she thought she was going to the doctor alone—like her usual days—the next day, Serena woke up to find Mason already sitting on the kitchen stool, stirring his morning coffee.

“Mason,” Serena couldn’t hide her surprise and she could only thank the heavens because if the palace’s head of PR was around, she would’ve spanked Serena by the butt for letting an emotion slip out of her. “you’re back early.”

Serena’s voice surprised Mason, too, in all honesty because he didn’t think. he didn’t think when he woke up this morning, he didn’t think when he drove to his house, he didn’t think when he boiled his morning coffee. he didn’t even think he’d stay this long—long enough until Serena woke up and found him back in the house.

he didn’t know how to respond to Serena’s reaction to finding him here, in the kitchen and supposedly her sanctuary, so he didn’t. it wasn’t like he owed her anything to say.

besides the fact that she was naturally a woman of little words, Serena didn’t mind the silence that followed after. she immersed herself in her daily routine, putting Mason’s presence to the back of her mind.

as she said yesterday, this house still belonged to Mason so the footballer could do anything he pleased. they’d only agreed letting her stay in this house for a façade, but if he wanted her out of here as soon as possible because he wanted her lover living here with him instead, she would do as he asked.

but Mason was the complete opposite. born an extrovert, he couldn’t stand the silence. “you’re going to the doctor today, right?”

“yes,” Mason watched as she navigated her way around the kitchen like a natural. so natural he didn’t notice the slight surprise displayed ghostly across her eyebrows because Mason had never asked about the child. not as far as she could recall anyway. “wha—”

“how far along exactly are you?”

his tone might still be clipped and his gaze indicated he would pretty much prefer somewhere else. Why isn’t he? Surely he’s not here because I implicitly told him I was pretty much lonely yesterday…

“entering five months today,” Serena answered and Mason concluded the woman had a dangerous knack to make his heart drop at every one of her revelations. had he been away that long? “I’m finding out the gender of the baby later.”

“can I come?”

“however put later on, this child is as yours as it is mine, Mason.”

Serena’s answer eased off something inside Mason because while her words were true, he didn’t want to come off as breaching her space. that was the least he could do when she’d been nothing but… civil and fair, for the lack of words, about the life he was living outside this house.

“you know I can always send the ultrasound to you so you don’t have to come,” Serena said as they waited side by side outside the doctor’s office. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

Mason didn’t want to jump ahead and conclude things himself but if he read the lines correctly, she was abashedly touching on the topic of her own shocking admittance. he’d like to clarify that he didn’t do any of this because she was feeling lonely—she knew what and where she was getting herself into—and that he was here because he truly wanted to see his own flesh and blood, which unfortunately could only happen whenever the expert physician was involved, but he decided against it because it wasn’t his place to explain anything the same way she didn’t have to explain explicitly why she’d always kept a pair of cups on the table.

“no,” Mason firmly responded, shaking his head. “I want to see how he’s doing.”

“you sound so sure it’s a him,” Serena spoke up again after minutes of silence between them. “what are you going to do if it’s a her?”

“humour me,” Mason glanced towards Serena, intending to confirm his suspicion, only to find her eyes were covered with teasing glint. he chuckled at sight. “i’ve always wanted to have a boy to play football with.”

“are you saying she can’t play balls?” the woman was now the one throwing a glance in his direction.  “with a father like you, she might be the next Sam Kerr, you know.”

Mason certainly didn’t expect her to know bits about football, especially about the women’s utterly skilled players that went under the radar because they’re simply women sometimes. “are you a fan of Chelsea or something that I don’t know of?”

“you’d be surprised I used to aspire to be a footballer if the occupation wasn’t deemed too dangerous for a princess,” and that was Serena’s genuine smile, to which Mason couldn’t help but smile back her way. that was also not the answer he was expecting from Serena, the well-known calm princess dubbed as calm beauty.

well, to be fair, Mason hardly knew whom she was marrying from the beginning.

but exactly at that moment, when Mason was about to banter Serena back, his phone rang. he pulled the electronic device out and saw his lover’s name splashed across the screen, the same time the nurse called for Serena’s turn.

the air now shifted back to a very awkward atmosphere.

“why aren't you answering that?” Serena commented when she noticed he put back his phone to his pocket. not because she was curious, but because it was out of place.

mason would go to the moon and back for that woman, there was no possible reason as to why he turned that thing off.

“she can wait—”

nope, she couldn't.

“you should take that,” Serena said after a full five seconds of not knowing how to handle it, both of them. “join us inside when you’re done.”

but he never did, and Serena, with the ultrasound already printed out in her hands, went out of the doctor’s office only to find Mason no longer occupying the ugly plastic chair.

we all know where he was headed.

next chapter contains:

“jaz,” and the closest sibling to Mason in terms of age, halted her steps away from him. “how do you know?”

“you reek of cheap perfume, Mase.”

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 0.4

"so eager to be in a headlock again?"

"only if it's by you."

he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble.

© 2023 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

Soyeon struttered with half-lidded eyes through the halway. Flinching when accidentally scratching her itching forehead, having forgotten about her covered wound.

A long yawn escaped her lips then. Not because she hadn't slept enough though. More the opposite. For the first time in weeks, she'd actually slept through without waking up panickedly at every little noise. It was also the first time in weeks she'd slept for more than just a few hours. For ten, in fact. Her body probably having been more exhausted than she knew.

Rubbing her eyes, still trying getting adjusted to the light, she passed by a door that was left ajar. Hearing someone moving inside. Now, Soyeon wasn't one to snoop around other people's business. She was, however, a curious cat and couldn't help but to sneak in a glance. Catching a glimpse of a dark figure and a sword reflecting the sunlight, being held horzontally behind his black waves. And Soyeon bit her lips, realising it was Yoongi who was standing with his back towards her and moving his katana against an invisible target, seemingly being one with the blade. Almost as if he was dancing with it. His back muscles flexing under his shirt with every step. 

He was training in what looked like a training room.

She swallowed, slowly backing away from the door. It was the first time she saw him with his sword and probably the most attractive thing she had ever witnessed. She could feel her pulse against her skin.

Turning around, she decided to quickly search the kitchen and perhaps some coffee instead, when the door behind her opened widely. Causing her to freeze. She slowly glanced over her shoulder, seeing Yoongi standing there. Sweatbeads running over his flushed face and arms, streaks of hair sticking on his forehead. Oh god.

He combed back his hair. A cocky grin spreading over his features then. "It's not very polite to spy on someone." He almost laughed out when seeing her flustered expression. 

"I-I wasn't.. how did you even hear me? I was super quiet and you were focusing on your training."

Her adorable confusion made him chuckle. "One should not only see with the eyes, but also with the ears," he simply stated, matter-of-factly before returning into the room. Sliding the sword into its sheath.

Even this simple move looked immensely attractive on him.

"D'you have coffee? Strong coffee."

He hummed, looking at her briefly. "It's on the upper cupboard, on the left."

She nodded, holding herself back from thanking him as his words from last night still rang in her ears. And suddenly she got reminded of her own little slip up when she'd kissed his cheek for a second time. Feeling her own cheeks blush at the memory, quickly making her way down the hallway and to the kitchen. The tension between them laid thickly in the air, in a way she could barely breath when he was in the same room as her.

She took a deep breath, opening what she assumed was the right cupboard. And indeed, it seemed right. Although the coffee was on the top shelf which was unfortunate for her as she wasn't the tallest person, not even when wearing her 10cm heels.

Nevertheless, she attempted to try as best as she could. Getting on her tiptoes and stretching her body. Her fingers lightly touching the container, but pushing it further away instead. She huffed and was about to look for a chair to use , when suddenly a toned armed appeared from behind, stretching over her head and reaching the container with ease.

She could sense his chest lightly touching her shoulder blades.

"Here." He held  the container out for her. His eyes smiling as he shook it, the coffee powder rustling inside.

"Thanks." She didn't intend to whisper but somehow her voice didn't want to leave her throat. Absentmindedly staring back at him when her hand reached for the coffee. Not having expected him to stand in such close proximity.

He nodded and stepped back, walking out of her view. And she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

After making herself a coffee, she took a seat on the large couch. Sitting cross-legged and glancing out at the sunlit buildings while taking a sip. And while staring outside and enjoying observing trees rustling in the  summer breeze she realised it had been awhile since she could take a breath and simply take in her surroundings and the outside world. She had almost forgotten the reason she had been in Yoongi's apartment in the first place. Her fingers wandering up to the wound, gently patting it over the bandaid. It hurt. She only hoped it'd heal soon.

Inhaling deeply, she took another sip and put the mug down on the table. Grabbing her phone then, she opened the photo she had previously shown Yoongi. The photo with that cursed necklace. A long sigh escaping her lips as her fingers traced over it. 

Just why? What was it about this necklace?

"You said your grandfather got it from a business trip. Was it maybe Europe?"

Startled, she lightly jumped in her seat. Almost throwing the device away. Yoongi was glancing from behind her shoulder, leaning over the couch with amusement in his eyes about her reaction.

"I-I got no clue, why?"

"According to my friend, the ornaments look like it."

"The.. what? Your friend?"

He walked around the couch, plopping next to her. Only now she noticed his wet strands and clean clothes. He had taken a shower. Sitting now next to her in a white shirt that had a few see-through spots due to water droplets falling onto it. His long hair curling at the tips, messily falling on the back of his neck and ears. Her cheeks were burning.

"Yeah, I sent Jimin your photo last night. Out of us three, he knows best about jewelry so I figured, if someone knew what's the deal with this necklace, it might be him."

Of course he had to involve Jimin in this. After all, he was the one always after the most precious gems in the world. He knew how to differentiate a real from a fake one and even their degree of purity. And of couse he also knew a thing or two about jewelry and the different styles and epochs around the world. 

And Jimin was of course willing to help, especially when seeing the photo of who he'd be helping out with his knowledge. It wasn't in his nature to ignore a pretty woman in need and on top of it, a pretty woman his friend was seemingly into.

His exact words being: "Is this her? She's hot! Good for you, man!"

Soyeon's eyes widened at the mention of Jimin. Curiosity filling her when she interrupted his train of thoughts. "And? What did he say?"

"He said the golden ornaments around the gem and the overall style remind him of 18th century european jewelry."

She mused over that information for a bit. "I'm not sure.. could be. I remember him saying he went to Italy once."

He simply nodded then, pointing at the mug on the table then. "You ate anything or is coffee your whole breakfast?"

She folded her arms in front of her and cocked a brow at him. "And what about you?"

"I don't eat breakfast."

She huffed under her breath, taking another sip from the brown liquid to hide the smile creeping on her features. It'd become lukewarm by now. "I'll eat later, don't worry." Another thought crossing her mind then. "Say.." she began then, unintentionally clutching her fingers tighter around the mug. Uncertain of how appropiate her request would be. "You're very good in sword fighting or fighting in general, right?"

"Quite a reluctant question considering you were observing me training," he chuckled with a small teasing smirk, making her gasp. "Yes, I'm very good. In both. Why?"

"Because-!" She abrupty paused, lowering her voice a little. Her eyes shy, falling to the side. "I was thinking, if you could show me a bit? I mean, for self-defense purposes. I know one day doesn't equal years of training but.." She heaved a sigh. "I just don't want to feel entirely helpless next time they show up.. Just some basics." Subconsciously, her fingers travelled up to the bandaid. She slowly looked at him then, fearing of his rejection.

However, Yoongi was simply looking at her with steady eyes. He nodded then and stood up.

"Follow me."

Shyly, she followed him into his training room. Him heading to a bag and grabbing a wooden sword, a bokken, out of it. Handing it to her.

"The most important part is that you see it as an extension of your arm, not an addition."

Soyeon looked at the object in her hand, her grip tightening around its shaft and she began to sway it around. Getting accustomed to its feel while he continued explaining.

"The main principle is one strike - one kill. That is to say, no wasted movement, total focus, and perfect timing to deliver a single, fight ending blow." Yoongi watched her nod with a focused expression. He stepped closer to her and held her hand that was holding the bokken, bringing the shaft to her attention. "You're holding it too tight. If it's a normal bat, you can hold it tighter. But with a katana you need to hold it like a tennis racquet," he said quietly and moved her fingers to the right positions. Brushing off the tingly feeling when guiding them as he was too immersed in explaining. Not noticing the way her brown eyes gleamed at him. And for a moment, she forgot to pay attention as she was simply absorbed by his soft lips moving. His voice getting drown in the sound of her quickened pulse ringing through her ears.

"-The feeling you should have is that it's kind of floating." He let go of her. And only then she snapped out of her thoughts, watching him taking his own sword out then and letting it glide through the air. His eyes moving along the blade, "The more you put a death grip on it, the less control you have. Grip it more like a paintbrush." He twirled it around, before cutting through an empty soda can that was on the small table by the wall. Slicing it into two. "And always pay attention to the edge alignment. That of course, if you use an actual blade."

Her eyes went round as she observed him in awe.

"The most basic way to use a katana properly is to cast it out like a fishing line and draw cut the blade inwards using the elbows close to the body," he continued, holding his sword up vertically over his head. Drawing it out in an abrupt yet easy way, pulling with the left hand at the base until it reached the head or shoulder of the invinsible target. "This move should be completed without the use of power, the right hand is only there to support and direct the direction of the movement. Nothing more."

He looked at her expectedly then and she took it as a sign to try it out herself. Straightening, she adjusted her grip into the same he had shown her. Trying keeping a relaxed grip, like a brush. And indeed, it felt easier to sway it like that. She saw him nodding in approval, taking a deep breath then she heaved it over her head, like a fishing line and threw it out. She immediatelly looked at him to see if he was content. "Not bad, repeat it a few more times until it really flows naturally."

As she did so, while he positioned himself in front of her. "Aim here," he said and tapped on his forehead. Soyeon's eyes grew wider. "I might hurt you."

"I won't let you actually hit me," he scoffed, laughing as if her worries had been ridiculous, "Just aim there."

She inhaled deeply and hesitately, tried. Failing a few times and getting irritated with herself, which amused him as he could see she was determinded and didn't like failing, which seemingly motivated her more. And eventually she did it. Well, almost. His hands stopped the bokken before actually hitting him, catching it in between his hands only centimetres away. "Good."

He stepped aside and let her repeat the movement a few more times. His eyes laying on her observingly with a fond almost proud look while she kept slicing through the air.

"Alright," Yoongi spoke up then, making her pause. He walked up in front of her again. "Now tilt it a little bit diagonally, steered by the left hand. Try hit my left shoulder in a way it'd cut to my right armpit." His finger traced over his chest, showing the way the blade should move.

She pushed back her hair, already feeling a few streaks sticking against her forehead. Taking a deep breath then, she tried relaxing again. Letting the speed, weight and momentum of the wooden blade do the work, not forcing anything. She only missed him by an inch and still, he didn't even wince - finishing in a position somewhat lower than horizontal with her elbows close to touching her body. It became easier the more she did it.

"Not bad." His nod of approval made her smile widely. 

Her arms were getting tired but she wanted to prove to him and herself that she could actually learn something from this. That next time she wouldn't be a little weakling. Even if she failed in the end, at least she wanted to be able to say that she tried defending herself and perhaps even actually succeeded.

And she continued practicing the move over and over again, not noticing Yoongi leaving the side and approaching her from behind. Until she felt a strong arm wrapping around her neck, while another went around her arms, pressing them against her torso. Making her unable to move them.

"Don't forget to keep an eye on your surroundings. Never let your guard down," he whispered. His voice vibrating low in her ear, his warm breath brushing over the back of her neck in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. And her legs grew weak. 

"Imagine one of these guys catches and holds you like this, unable to move. What do you do?" His question sounded more like a command and her mind went blank.

Yeah, what would she do?

She bit her lips, weighing out her options to free herself - not that she necessarily wanted to escape Yoongi's embrace. Hell no, if she could she'd stay like this forever. The close proximity, his body heat and his arms wrapped around her, pressing her back against his chest - ultimately clouding her mind. She was in a haze.

However, she had asked him to teach her self-defense and that was what he was trying to do. She knew that, so she had to stay focused and not get distracted by the smell of his scent.

"Maybe.." She sighed. She didn't know. She felt helpless in his grip. Now it was only him, next time it might be someone else. Her hands automatically went up, grabbing onto his arm.

"Good, now shrug your shoulders so you create a space where you can tuck your chin down to your body."

She did as he said.

"Tuck your chin into the crook of my elbow, that's where the most wiggle room is."

She obeyed.

"Now sink down in my hold by bending your knees. Literally drop all your weight."

She bent her knees, dropping her weight.

"Now you get a chance to get out of the headlock by either pulling at my fingers, stomping on my foot or do any other disabling move that you can." His arms loosened around her and let go, stepping back.

Soyeon inhaled deeply and turned around, locking gazes with him. "And what if someone attacks me from the front?"

Yoongi hummed. "There are four soft spots on someone's body that you can punch to hurt an attacker without hurting yourself, can you think of any?"

She squinted her eyes, looking him up and down when her eyes fell on one particular spot. Feeling her cheeks heating up, embarrassed of her own immature  behaviour. "Well, I think the most obvious one would be between the legs," she giggled then, peeking at his groin before quickly looking away with folded lips. And he chuckled.

"Right, that's one of them. Can you name another one?" She shrugged, unsure of which other parts there could be. He dragged a sigh. "The throat is one of them," he said then, instinctively holding his neck and rubbing it, "Closing their air pipe for a few seconds gives you time to flee." She nodded, understanding. "The others would be the eyes and the gut. If you kick or punch someone there, it should also give you enough time to flee. Don't go for another strike, though," he warned, looking at her urgently, "Unless you can't run away. Otherwise don't, just run."

She nodded again and looked down at her small hand that shaped into a fist. Her brows knitting together as she fell into deep thoughts. Only his laugh brough her back to her senses and she perked up. Seeing him grin teasinly.

"You wanna try it out on me or why do you look so mad?"

A smirked tucked on her lips. "Only if you give me a reason to."

Shaking his head, Yoongi laughed under his breath and grabbed his sword from where he had left it. Walking back to its sheath, sliding it back in. "It wasn't much, but I hope it'll help you in case I won't be there to protect you," he quietly said then. Not daring to look at her. Missing her lips parting at the mention of him wanting to protect her. Her heart fluttered. 

"At least I know more than before now," she quietly smiled, "Thank you. I know you said I shouldn't always say that, but I truly mean it."

He hummed, glancing at her over his shoulder. "It's okay. We can practice more at another time."

She nodded.

"I'd like that." 

»»»

"I'll be back soon."

That was all that was written on the note Yoongi had left her while she was taking a shower.

She huffed, letting herself fall onto the couch. Well, at least he let her know.

Her eyes wandered around the living room then, falling onto a bookshelf stacked with books. And instantly she got curious about what kind of books he might like to read. She herself wasn't much of a reader, besides mangas, but as she was bored and didn't know what else to do in his apartment, she walked up there. 

From the titles she could tell that they were mostly contemporary fictional works, but also some classics. One cover catching her eye then. So she carefully pulled it out and settled back to the couch, reading it to pass some time until he returned, wherever he had disappeared to.

Not knowing Yoongi was actually not that far away. In fact, he was still in the building.

Letting his eyes wander over the view from up the rooftop. The bright afternoon sun bathing everything in a burning hue. He stood there in the shade as he waited for the ringing dial tone to finally cut off and the person he was calling to pick up. A stern look on his soft features as he inpatiently chewed the inside of his cheek.

"Hello?"

He breathed, revieled his call got answered after all. "Hey, pops, it's been awhile.."

There was a small silence before Seokjin's jarring squeak echoed through the phone line. "Yoongi? To what do I owe the honour of this call? Last thing I know you were somewhere in the mountains."

"H-how did you know?"

"Please.." the older guy laughed out, "I got my sources. I'm an interpol agent after all. You might be in a non-member state, but I still get my info on you."

".. Jimin mentioned meeting you here. Is he your source?"

"Perhaps. But say now, why are you calling? Not that I don't appreciate you not having forgotten about me, but.. I know you didn't just call because you missed me."

Yoongi laughed under his breath. Sure, Jimin had been the one with the weird frenemy-relationship with Seokjin, however, him and Taehyung had also been quite involved in it. Always seeing the leader of the theft department as more than a simple antagonist, considering all the times they had helped each other.

"Actually, yeah. I got your number from Jimin because of a thing.."

Seokjin sighed dramatically. "Oh, no. Did you get back into the criminal life again? I knew Arabella and Jimin couldn't hold back, but I didn't expect you to leave retirement so early."

"That's not the case." He paused, contemplating again. "At least not fully. It's just.. this person I met -"

"I should've known," Seokjin exclaimed with an overdramatic sigh, cutting him off, "Obviously it's because of a woman. Although you didn't strike me as someone like that.."

Yoongi groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut. He had forgotten how noisy agent Kim could be. "Yes, it's a woman, but that's not the point. Some guys are after her or rather the necklace her grandfather left her. We don't know why, but there must be more into it since they're persistent -"

"So you're asking me to use my interpol database and connections and try dig some info."

He breathed out. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Hm, didn't Jimin tell you that I stepped down from leader and am rather a paper-pusher now?"

"He did, but I figured your little assistants, Jungkook and Skylar, who're in charge now, wouldn't be too keen in helping out a wanted thief in exile. That's why I'm asking you."

Seokjin hummed, not able to argue with that. He trusted his younger colleagues who were now the leaders of the department, but he wasn't so certain if they'd like helping out one of the thieves who, more or less, gave them the run-around. They knew and respected his unusual relationship with them, but they'd never participate in it.

"What makes you think I'd want to though?" he teased then. "Who knows, I may even get in trouble if it gets leaked that I'm in contact with you guys."

"I know. And I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important."

For a moment it was silent. The agent thinking about his sober words. "Alright, if it's for someone important to you, I'll do it." Before Yoongi could react, he spoke up again. "But only 'cause you saved my ass last year in Cairo. So we're even now."

"S-sure."

"Alright, send me all the info you got and I'll get back to you."

They hung up and Yoongi took a deep breath, quickly making his way back inside into the cool building, not able to stand any longer in the afternoon heat.

He stepped into his apartment, wiping the sweat from his face as he plodded into the open kitchen. Grabbing himself a glass of cold water and gulping it down in one go when the corner of his eyes caught a glimpse of the couch. He set the glass down and paused. Eyes widening when seeing Soyeon sitting there. Too immersed in the book she was reading, one of the novels from his bookshelves, to notice him. A sight he could get used to, having her sit against one side of the couch, knees bent and a book resting against her thighs while her feline eyes carefully glided over the sentences written with a light crease between her brows.

However, what had surprised him more was the sight of her in one of his favourite shirts, which was rather looking like a dress on her petite body. And she looked incredibly beautiful like that. Damp hair flowing over her shoulder and her body engulfed in that large shirt, in his shirt.

He coughed then as a flush crept up his face. "H-hey, sorry for randomly leaving. I had to make a call."

She raised her eyes from the page she was currently reading. Only now realising he had returned. "Oh, you're back!"

"Y-yeah."

She nodded, focusing back on the sentence she had been on. Sliding his note on the page then as a bookmark, she closed the book. Letting it rest on her lep. "Was wondering where you left to," she smiled.

He motioned at her then with his chin. "I see you found my shirts."

She looked down, tucking at the black shirt before folding her lips shyly. "Hope you don't mind. I don't have any other clothes after all. But I swear I didn't snoop around your stuff, I only looked for something to wear."

He simply nodded, looking away with a smile.

"Sure, no problem. It suits you anyway."

»»»

next chapter: 0.5 here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[smilingangel582]

Can I request a Ler Lyney x Lee Lynette?

Ohhhhooo, I've never done that beforeeee. I'm not really a lee!Lynette stan, but I can try... since she's a cutie and deserves laughter. Sorry if this is short. I usually am not creative with female lees! Cuz i believe they r toughies and amazing lers! hehehe, anyway, hope this is OK for u...

Enjoyyy~

Cats and tickles

"Lynette, how many times have I told you..."

The younger twin sister merely stared nonchalantly at her brother's strict lecture. She kept on sipping her tea, knowing he's disappointed by her extremely inconsiderate diet plan.

"If you eat like this, it might affect the show too"

Her purple eyes glinted. "Then why don't you do the same as me?"

He gave her a look now, and as she attempted to feast on her final dessert he poked her side "Don't. Take. Another. Bite!"

She anxiously felt his pokes rather tingly, and it was dangerous. Activate escape mode.

"No, no, no. " he was slightly playful as he knew she'd flee away from the living room and soon began to grab her sides.

She choked at this, the ticklish touch which her brother loves to exploit so much for punishments. She whined "Pleeease... noho"

"Dear sister, doth mine ears deceive me or did you just laugh?"

She looked away shyly. "Whatever... ahaha. " Soft giggles left her lips as she felt his assault more obviously. Indeed she wasn't the most ticklish, but she wasn't in the mood for revenge, or not yet at least. She wanted to at least let him have his fun. It's not like she hates it.

Although... her dessert is getting chilled...

Drat!

"Lynehehey, nohoho tihihickles..." she giggles as she tries to push his hands away, but he seems too engrossed on the spectacle happening in front of him.

"No way, you defy me and now have the audacity to say you don't want this?" He was being gentle but then again, not merciful.

Eyed widening, he targeted her hips and she was no longer playing nice. With a firm reach to get his wrists he was stopped instantly.

Though he was surprised by her new found strength, he tried to play along "Well? Do you regret it?"

She managed to keep her face cool now. "Hm... perhaps I was too rash. I'll keep in mind to have a better diet"

He smiled fondly now, but he lowered his guard when she pushed him back now pinning him instead.

"But I also plan on getting you back ten folds, my naive brother"

"H-huh? Ahahah wahahait" he was already giggling wearily, he seriously didn't expect Lynette to have strength to attack back, but being gullible he thought she was fighting to free herself.

Drat!

"No, no, no Lyney~"

Augh! That same teasing. Lyney felt insulted, but only louder and frantic giggles came. He can't let her get him as she always did... maybe...

Lynette for the first time shrieked so loud that she was surprised enough to even say anything. He was temporarily frozen by how she made such a loud noise. Were her ears that bad?

This is news...

He giggled mischievously "Whahat in the world was that?"

She was ashamed, her expression changing to a flustered blush, then looking down she was more quiet then ever "I don't know..."

She flinched now with streaming giggles as he was rubbing her ears. Suddenly feeling contented that she's actually feeling the pressure for once from his tickling. Rather than the other way around.

"aHahaha LYNEY! AHAHA..." She cried out now almost as loud as he is. It's a rare sight indeed. Her tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as he soon felt like easing up on the torture though... it was a mistake...

Too late though.

"L-Lynette...?" Her expression was too difficult to read. One minute she was embrassed meanwhile the other minute... she was plotting.

He knew he couldn't have won a tickle fight against her, but... he did realise her ears are bad and could've made it well less one-sided. He now debated whether he could take these chances this time-

"AHAHAHAH LYNEHEHETTE! I AHAHAH SORRY! SORRY! SERIOUSLY!"

Never mind, she's persistent. Of course, this Lynette is...

"Activate revenge mode... Lyney, it's over for you. " she sounded like the terminating robot and feirce at the same time. With that, her continuous drilling under his armpits intensified. Like he got her worst spot, she just did return the favour, so he's not exactly complaining.

"I won't D-DO IT! AHAHAHA, I SWEEEAHAHEAR!"

He did mentally cross his fingers, though, as seeing the adorable blush on her face was worth what he's paying for. Indeed the price is great but the reward is worth it. He might try tickling her ears again, though he should prepare a coffin the next time he does so.

Hehe, sorry for making it a switch... just that I love those two so much.

Ps. Lynette with sensitive ears is Canon! Neehehehe. It's cute! And Lyney's armpits, hahahaha