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chanfictions · 3 years

Text

Chidori

18+ CONTENT! MINORS DNI!

Kakashi x Reader

Part 2

Playing with electricity, mind games, smut, smut, smut.

2.4k

It's all fun and games until your boyfriend acquires intel that you have some unfulfilled fantasies involving his chakra nature.

You and your big fucking mouth.

You knew getting drunk and shmoozing with that old pervert was a huge mistake, but inebriated you was just a treasure trove of curative ideas for the raunchy author's writer's block, and he was footing the tab. One cup of sake after another and your most titillating fantasies just rolled right off of your twisted tongue in a drunken game of Never-Have-I-Ever, Kink Edition. Little did you know that your traitorous mountain of a drinking buddy would slink off to your boyfriend later with all of the intel he had gathered from you.

You made a mental note to sic Tsunade on him later. Now, however, you had more important things to worry about, namely the chirping cracks of lightning surrounding Kakashi’s hand as you shifted nervously in your rope bindings. "Babe, shouldn't we talk about this?" You squeaked nervously as you twirled in place like a little marionette with your arms bound above your head.

"What's there to talk about, hm? Jiraiya told me just how exciting you thought it would be to play with electricity." The eerie calm in his voice as he circled you, wielding that handful of sparking doom sent lusty shivers up your spine. You were a thrill seeking fear slut, and Kakashi knew it. The danger held in his palm twisted your insides into the most delightful knots and left you dripping with excitement.

"I meant… oh, I don't know, a violet wand or something designed for use on the human body, not an assassination jutsu!" You stammered and your voice climbed in pitch. Your eyes widened the closer he got to you. The scent of ozone filled your nostrils, and all of the little hairs on your body stood on end from the static beginning to collect in the air.

"What's the matter, kitten? Don't think you can handle it?"

"Do I think I can handle a jutsu you use to literally pierce people's hearts as FOREPLAY?!" Your voice entered the soprano register as you gnawed your lip and spun around him again, tipping about on the balls of your bare feet.

A chuckle purred deep in Kakashi’s chest as he pulled his mask down with a light curl to the corner of his mouth. "That is what I asked you."

Words failed you, and all you could manage was a high pitched squeal as he ghosted the edge of that jutsu around your exposed stomach, just barely kissing your skin with static. Your breath caught in your throat as your heart leapt into your mouth.

"You haven't forgotten your safe word, have you?" He mused while continuing to circle you like a silver-haired lion.

Another squeaky yelp that sounded like a 'no' slipped from your lips as your bugged out eyes followed the sparks and you twitched away from his hand.

"What we should talk about is your racy little conversation with Master Jiraiya yesterday." Kakashi’s dark iris glinted with the reflection of those chirping bolts as he traced a less dangerous finger along your trembling jawline, tipping your chin upward. "Naughty girl, telling that old pervert about your little fantasies before even I had the privilege of hearing them." His voice was a mere gusty murmur blowing beneath the deafening crackle humming right next to your face.

"We were just talking about his unfinished book," you insisted in a shaky chitter as your eyes locked on the blue chakra leaping from his fingertips. Boy, did Kakashi know how to push your buttons. The ache between your legs had you twisting your thighs as that knot of excited fear tightened in your belly. He had barely laid a finger on you since hanging you up, and you were just fluttering for some kind of stimulation.

Another dark little laugh rolled in Kakashi’s chest. "You should really know better by now, kitten," he purred, bringing the jumping bolts ever closer to your skin, letting little shocks nip and draw goosebumps on your waist as he trailed his sparking hand ever closer to your very erect nipples, making you squirm anxiously. "Master Jiraiya and I are very good friends. He tells me everything."

You swallowed hard, breaking into a bit of a sweat. "So… um… what else did he tell you?" Your voice cracked under the strain of the pitch you were reaching while you bit your lip. Keeping your heaving chest away from his hand was growing more difficult with the little slack you had in your rope.

"Now, where's the fun in giving up my leverage?" A sly smile tilted his lips. "You might want to stop squirming before this arcs… electricity can be so unpredictable, can't it?"

A high whine hummed in your throat as your eyes flicked from that devious smile back to his hand again. He wouldn't, right? Another hard swallow had you nibbling on your lip in hopeful anticipation and wringing your bound hands. That chirping sound terrified you, as you knew it all too well from fighting alongside the silver-haired jonin. Your heart raced in the best possible way, that fear leaving you aching and wet.

"Oh, but you'd like that, wouldn't you? I can see it in your eyes," he murmured in your ear, sliding behind you and pulling your body tightly against his with his tamer hand, tracing a line from your navel up to the breast he firmly cupped. You felt that bulge of desire for you straining the fabric of his pants when you were pulled in and gave your ass a little teasing wiggle against it. He trailed his lips along your neck up to your jaw. Deft fingers rolled a hardened bud, sending tasty jolts through your body, making you arch into his touch. The chattering spark in his left hand hovered inches from your skin. "Say it."

"K-kakashi, I--" you stammered nervously. He could no doubt feel your racing pulse beneath his lips as he kissed his way along your neck.

"It's simple. Either you want it and you tell me as much, or you don't and tap out, but we both know what you're going to say." How that man managed to maintain such an aloof coolness while terrorizing you like this was just beyond you.

With your blood rushing in your ears, you bit your lip and dropped your head back against his shoulder. "Light me up," you breathed lustfully before you even realized what you were asking for.

With a knowing chuckle, Kakashi obliged. The pitch of the chirping shifted, and hot points of light licked your skin, leaving you gasping in surprise. The little lightning strikes were fiery and felt sharp like the edge of a knife being dragged over your flesh. You had expected it to really hurt, but as usual, Kakashi had twisted your head around in a delicious mind fuck, letting you think he just might fry you up until the very last moment. The sensation beautifully toed the line between pain and pleasure, sending literal shocks through your body. Arching your back, you bit your lip with an excited squeal as his hand hovered just above your nipple, peppering it with a storm of static. "Did you really think that I would touch you with an actual Chidori?" The tone of his voice sent shivers up your spine.

"It s--ah-aaah-oounded like the rreeeal one," you gasped in a breathy moan as those sparks danced around your torso. Tiny bolts pierced your skin like needles without leaving so much as a mark in their wake. The most shocking aspect of this newfound kink was the smell. It never occurred to you that electricity had any kind of defining odor, but this did, and you couldn't get enough of it.

More soft chuckles hummed behind you as Kakashi’s breath fanned your neck. His sparking hand ran circles around your breasts, sending shocks straight through your body to your throbbing clit. The sensation was amazing and left you arching into his body, swaying your hips against his own waiting lust. "Are you trying to tell me something, hm?" He punctuated the statement with a nip of your neck and began trailing his new favorite toy downward.

"W-w-aaaait a minute!!" You squeaked in surprise at a dog-whistle pitch, wiggling your hips again in an effort to avoid that hand as you had quickly realized what he was about to do with it.

"You know the word to use if you want me to stop," he murmured, more and more amused by this. "Otherwise, I'm going to find out if I can get you off without actually touching you." He slid his feet between yours, prying your legs apart and stepping lightly on the tops of your now inward turned feet to keep you rooted.

The next sound coming out of your mouth was a shrill, giggling shriek that rolled into a loud moan. Kakashi brought those sparking fingers down to your slick clit, hovering just above it and sending little lightning strikes grouped in pulsing waves directly at the most sensitive spot. The electric chakra jumped around your dripping pussy, sending all new sensations ripping through your body. The inhuman noise you were producing grew loud enough that Kakashi had to muffle your mouth with his other hand to prevent the neighbors from thinking he was murdering you.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you let out another loud wail. Pins, needles, and precise strikes of heat from the electricity coursing through you sent your muscles contracting in waves in time with the pulses leaving his fingers. Your walls fluttered around nothing, absolutely starving to be filled. The intensity was unlike anything you had ever experienced. Your legs trembled as the pitch of your voice rolled chromatically skyward.

Kakashi hummed praises in your ear, kissing along your exposed neck as he kept that one hand clamped firmly over your mouth. With a sly smirk he whispered in your ear, "Let's turn things up a bit."

To say you saw stars as he did just that was an understatement. The heat and force applied by those biting strikes of sparking chakra increased, intensifying your involuntary muscle contractions. Your legs nearly gave way as the first heavy wave of the night crashed over you and stole the air from your screaming lungs. Your walls clenched desperately. The knot of heat in your belly finally burst.

"Mmm, so that does work. Good to know," he mused, turning up the power as you rode out that first release until you wailed again and bucked your hips into his hand. Cutting the chakra off for the moment, he pressed hard against your puffy clit, rubbing circles to keep you teetering on the edge of blissful insanity.

"Mmmfffff--K-kakashi, please," you begged desperately around his hand. You were throbbing, aching, pining to be filled. "N-need you, need you now--"

As swift as the bolts of lightning crackling about in his hand, Kakashi had you untied from the rope, stripped his own clothes, and pinned to the mattress just a few steps behind where you were hanging. With a bruising kiss and a hand tangled in your hair, he ground his hips against your throbbing pussy, eliciting a lewd moan from you into his mouth. Hungry, desperate, and needy for him, you snapped your legs around him, urging him to stuff you. There was no need for the usual prep with how wet that electricity had gotten you. You gasped with eyes rolling back into your head as he abruptly rutted his full length into your aching core, sending you right back into outer space, digging your nails into his shoulders and locking your legs around him.

A low growl rumbled in Kakashi’s throat as your walls attempted to crush his cock. He swallowed your moans and wails from his movements in equally ravenous kisses with one hand still tangled into your hair. As you rode out yet another blinding orgasm, he snatched one of your knees and pinned it to your chest to achieve more depth that left you teetering on the edge of blackout. It was so fucking good. You clenched around him again, finally with the satisfaction of being stuffed so full and babbled incoherently. "Fuck-- Kakashi, so fu-haaah-ah-big -- can't -- oh, gods-- I--"

Hearing you unable to string together a coherent sentence filled Kakashi with immense satisfaction as he ground deeply into your impossibly tight little hole. Picking up the pace, the force of his thrusts rocked the bed noisily into the wall, though it likely couldn't be heard over you. He smothered your rambling cries with his mouth, leaving trails of bites and hot breath down your neck before coming back for more. He groaned loudly as you bit his shoulder while fluttering around him yet again to stifle your own noise. Nail marks decorated his upper back from your desperate attempt to hold onto something as he railed you into oblivion. His breathing quickened before catching in his throat and erupting as a guttural growl when he delved into you to an impossible depth, painting your insides white.

You were nearly choking on your own saliva as you dropped your head back into the mattress beneath you, fighting to catch your breath. Kakashi buried his face into the curve of your neck, gripping you tightly and murmuring soft affections as you both slowly drifted down from that impressive high. You could hardly feel your legs from how hard your soul had been fucked out of your body. He remained there, buried in you with your leg still trapped, trailing his fingers along your cheek while you tried to remember your own name.

"That was… ridiculous," you breathed heavily, coiling your arms around his neck.

Kakashi just chuckled, trailing his lips up your neck to yours again. "Well, now that you can speak again, perhaps we can finish the conversation we started earlier," he mused, running his fingers along your side teasingly.

You were not running on full steam and just pressed yourself tightly against him. "Hmm?"

"Mmm, electricity wasn't the only thing you were talking about with Master Jiraiya…" Kakashi spoke in a husky tone and trailed off with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

You peered up at him, face beginning to flame with embarrassment and a slight hint of dread as you remembered the depth of your drunken chat with the sannin who was definitely going to get pummeled for this later.

Oh, shit.

"What's this I heard about shadow clones?"

#naruto x reader #kakashi x reader #naruto smut #kakashi smut #chanfictions

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sluttbuttsstuff · 3 years

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Not to spam you but…

Yandere la squada and a darling that’s a little pant-y mess on the occasion that she masturbates and knows a member of the team is home, but upon thinking she’s alone (unaware of her stalker) is masturbating REALLY FUCKING LOUD 🥺 👉👈 sorry if it’s too filthy but this thought will not let me know peace

I do NOT know how to write short pieces; sorry, but that's just not the kind of writer i am. That being said, i had a lot of fun with this, so thanks for the request!

WARNINGS: afab femme reader, Not sfw, dub/con, but reader strongly implied to be okay with everything, voyeurism, sex toys, fingering, blow jobs, intercourse, etc.

Why is it so hard to get some alone time?!...okay, when you’re living with 9 other men, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise to you, but STILL! Well, at least you were able to release some tension, late at night when everyone was too asleep to barge into your room to ask you for something, but you had to stay quiet. God forbid anyone hear the noises you make, so you had to get yourself off quickly and efficiently, without getting to really enjoy yourself. So when this week’s meeting left you free for a day at the base ALONE (even Risotto himself had to be out for a mission, which was rare) you intended to take advantage of it to the fullest.

First: You sang all your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, without fear of anyone hearing you go out of key, or judging you for your taste in music. Then, You took an extra long shower AND bubble bath, effectively using up all the hot water and pampering your skin and hair-which you never had time to when you had to share the bathroom with all the other members. You ate a ton of junk food and ordered delivery all for yourself, and watched all the shows and movies you didn't have the time to before because Formaggio would watch sports games all day.

Finally, you figured now was as good a time as any to....”relax your body”. You were so excited, it had been so long since you’d taken the time to really explore your body while you rubbed one out. You got undresses, rubbing your smooth, moisturized legs together while you turned on one of your favorite pornos on your laptop. You mimicked the motions onscreen, rubbing your neck, your chest, stomach, and finally the lower lips of your pussy. You were already warm and tingling with anticipation, and it didn’t take long for you to get into it. You let yourself moan freely, not saying anything in particular as you clenched around your fingers, lubing yourself up for your toys that were waiting to be used again.

Eventually, the porn ended, but you were just getting started, rocking yourself on your favorite dildo, circling a vibe around your clit and pinching your nipples. It was intense but slow, pleasure raising and declining like gentle hills you rode out. Still, you held off your orgasm for as long as possible, you were having so much fun you didn’t want it to end. You were so invested in the pleasure you were feeling, the rest of the world went away, you didn't even notice the crash of your laptop off the bed.

You were close now, like it or not, so you pushed your body faster and harder than you had in ages, despite the cramps in your wrist and hips. You couldn’t stop your body now, wailing out, tears streaming down your face as you begged yourself for release. Almost there, almost-!!!!

Formaggio: Of course Formaggio was able to finish his hit early- he’s good at his job and doesn’t like carrying things out needlessly! Besides, his favorite team’s playing tonight, he has to hurry home before Prosciutto claims the TV again for an old movie marathon, ughhh. He calls out to you when he arrives home, since he knows you were off this week, but didn’t hear you greet him. You must now have heard him, either, or you wouldn’t be making noises like that. Formaggio cackles to himself-of course you’re getting off, he does the same when he gets the day off too. He likes to do something more exciting than usual though, like leave his door open, or do it in someone else’s room. Yours, for example.

Stifling his own laughter, he uses his stealth skills to sneak into your room. You’re so out of it, you don’t even notice when he opens the door, or your overturned laptop at the foot of your bed. It’s pretty hot, actually, you’re usually more tight-lipped than this, refusing his advances and keeping to yourself when not at work. He likes this side of you a lot more; hair messy, gleaming with sweat, and moaning like a porn star. Yeah baby, let it all out! Formaggio knows he probably shouldn’t, that you’ll kill him afterwards, but Formaggio isn’t exactly a good guy per se so he forces himself on you and grabs the dildo from your hands. You gasp and make an odd, half-choking noise, shocked at Formaggio’s presence and trying to stop moaning in front of him while he fucks you on your toy at double speed.

“Yo, y/n, had a good day today without the guys around? IT’s about to be a lot better, now that I'm here~ why don’t you let me have a turn making you feel good? I’m sure you’re tired from doing this all yourself.” Formaggio teases you, as you struggle to find the words and hide the noises. Finally, you roll your eyes and give up; if Formaggio really wants to help you out so badly, then you’re gonna put him to work. The two of you end up fucking for the rest of the aftenoon and evening, until Proscuitto bangs on your door to keep it down, and even then you have another round or two while giggling.

The two of you are exhausted, but sated, afterwards, and you convince Formaggio to make a run to the fridge to pull out your leftovers, on the condition you share them with him. You spend the rest of the night eating in bed, watching Formaggio’s beloved game on your laptop, and falling asleep. It's an almost perfect end to your day, except for the fact that Formaggio snores louder than a chainsaw.

Illusio: unfortunately, this is not the first time Illusio’s heard (or seen) you masturbate, try as you might to hide it. With a stand like his, you know he not only has the means, but desire to snoop on others. Hell, half the time he doesn’t even mean to spy on others, he just forgets about other’s privacy when he’s in his mirror world. This is, however, the first time you’ve been so vocal, presumably because everyone’s supposed to be out right now. Poor girl, it must be hard to take care of your needs when you’ve got to stare at him all day. He’d be pretty flustered too, with his long chocolate locks and well-toned muscles. Illusio pities you, so he decides he’ll give you the help you clearly need. Jumping from the mirror in the hallway to the one in your bedroom (See? You don’t even cover it up, of course you want him to ravish you!) he watches and listens for a minute at the raunchy display before him. Despite you clearly doing this for quite awhile, judging from the sheen of sweat and heavy breathing, your movements were steady and rhythmic, almost like you’d been edging yourself for a long time. How cute. You must have wanted him to finish the job for you. You’re being very loud however, which Illusio likes, but you’re not saying what he wants to hear. So, he slinks over to you like a ghost, and puts his hand over your mouth to stop you from screaming.

“As much as I love coming home to hear you pleasuring yourself, I think we can do a little better than this. And also-” He kisses the side of your shocked face, “If you’re going to scream something, scream my name.” He picks up where you left off, edging you again and again until you’re so desperate that you beg him to fuck you, and say all the pretty words he wants you to. He fucks you so good you squirt when you come, and makes you come again after he finishes inside of you. It takes you a minute or two to recover, but when you do, and Illusio is bragging about what he did to you, you chase him out of your room with a pillow for being an annoying cocky bastard.

Prosciutto:

Hmmm, well, this is a bit awkward. He knows what the noises mean the minute he first hears them, but isn’t sure how to approach this without embarrassing both of them. If it had been one of the other men, he’d have just slammed their door until they shut up so he didn’t have to listen to their tug session, but Prosciutto prided himself on being a gentleman, and didn’t want to embarrass a lady if he didn’t have to.

He waited about 5 or so minutes, hoping you would wrap up, but when you only got louder and louder he decided enough was enough. After all, god forbid one of the other men hear you-like Illusio or Formaggio. So, steeling himself, he coughed loudly and knocked on your door. You must not have heard him, as your moaning didn’t stop, you were clearly enjoying yourself too much to notice or care about the other men in the base.

Prosciutto huffed, almost offended. Is this what he gets for trying to be polite? Jerking off loudly like a common whore where anyone could walk into you? He tried the doorknob, and was almost disappointed you were careless enough to leave it unlocked. Really, this was all your fault, so when your noises of pleasure turned to shock and embarrassment, he merely chided you for your carelessness, forcing his tongue into your mouth to shut you up while he took over. He took control and instructed you how to properly touch yourself, as well as jerk him off in appreciation for the self-love lesson. He decides to leave it there for the night, as motivation for a reward the next time you’re home alone. So you better work hard on your next missions if you want him to properly fuck you, got it?

Pesci:

Pesci was grateful Prosciutto was willing to finish up the job for him, since it meant he got to go home early. Heck, maybe he could even get a chance to watch one of his documentaries before Formaggio came home and the game started. However, he was growing increasingly concerned about the noises coming from your room. He didn’t want to pry or anything, but you sounded...almost in pain. Sometimes you worked out or did yoga though, and Pesci thought that’s what you were working on, so he decided to leave you be.

However, upon hearing a loud crash, followed by a particularly pained groan, he thought it was best to check in on you. He knocked on your door frantically, but you were unable to answer it. Oh no, maybe you’d hurt yourself so badly you couldn’t even move! Determined to help you, he opened the door, only to see you writhing on the bed, nude and in the midst of an intense self-love session.

Pesci’s mouth opened, and closed, but unlike you, he couldn’t make a sound at the sight before him. It’s true, he harbored a small crush on you, but he had hope he would see you like this under better circumstances. He wasn’t sure what to do, he knew the right thing was to close the door and pretend like this never happened, but you seemed desperately in need of help, not to mention Pesci’s pants were tented with his own sudden but no less intense arousal.

Thinking back to advice Prosciutto had given him about manning up and taking what he wanted from life, he creeps up to your still unaware body, crouching onto your bed with a squeak of the bed springs. This is enough to break you from your trance, and you jolt up, looking at Pesci in shock and embarrassment. Pesci shushes you before you can say a word, pushing a trembling, clammy finger to your lips.

“Please...Let me help you y/n,” He begs you, looking you in the eyes with more courage and bravery than you’d seen from the man since you first met him. Still wet and horny, and body growing tired, you lick his finger, earning an adorable squeak from Pesci; this is going much better than he thought it would. You pull him on top of you, and show him what to do.

What Pesci lacks in experience he makes up for in quick-learning and a massive cock with a short refractory period. You move his hands for him across your body, bringing yourself to climax finally, and return the favor with a blowjob. Pesci doesn’t last long, but he’s hard again very quickly, which you decide to use to your advantage. You ride him again and again, Pesci doing everything you tell him to, and making sure you come as many times as he does. He comes everywhere, inside you and out and on your chest, and makes quite the mess of you.

IT doesn’t stop him from pulling you into a passionate kiss and spooning when you’re both sated, mumbling his thanks and sweet compliments about you. You end up sleeping together that night, and in the morning the men tease him half to death about it, but you can tell Prosciutto's proud of him.

Melone:

Oh, he’s been WAITING for this day since you first joined the team, and now that it’s finally happening he can hardly believe it’s real. First he Manages to reactivate the babyface from today’s mission to grab his camera and record everything. Then, he grabs his chest of toys from his room to help you out. He has a hard time not just jumping in and screwing you into your mattress, but like everything in Melone’s life, he has a plan for this, and he intends to follow through with it. After getting a minute or two of just your moans recorded (just in case his “mission” is unsuccessful, at least he’ll have fap material for later, he decides to make himself known.

“You know, y/n, your arm’s are going to get worn out like that before you’re able to climax if you keep this up.” Melone chided you, sitting on your vanity stool, head in his hands like he wasn’t just watching you touch yourself. You scream, out of shock and anger this time, trying to cover yourself and yell at him to get out. Melone’s incredibly stubborn however, and the tongue of a snake, and is able to persuade you into letting him stay, be it from charm, blackmail, or perhaps tapping into your own dark desires.

He starts by merely watching you, taking pictures with his phone and directing babyface on angles to take video. He instructs you on how to touch yourself, and gives you free range on his collection of toys. It all feels good, and you are able to come, but you’re still unsatisfied, to your disappointment. As if knowing this would be the result all along, Melone plays dumb and makes YOU beg him to touch and fuck you.

Once you finally give in, though, he’s much nicer to you, and to no one’s surprise is an excellent lover. He licks your pussy until you come again, and then finger fucks you once more for good measure, before pulling out his copy of the Kama Sutra. He lets you pick out your favorite positions, as well as a few he thinks will give you the most pleasure, and you tire yourself out.

Ghiaccio:

Ghiacchio does NOT want to deal with your loud noises right now, and he ESPECIALLY doesn’t want to deal with the “problem” it’s caused him personally. He breaks your door down, fully intending to chew you out for being so….”distracting” but ironically enough, Ghiacchio freezes when he sees you. He doesn’t have the most experience with dating, especially not with women (I imagine what limited experience he has was with other passione members *cough* Melone *cough*) so seeing you fully bare in front of him is a lot.

The noises you made haven’t helped either, halfway pained and desperate, it makes Ghiaccio oddly jealous; he wants to be the one that makes you make those noises. So before you can chase him out, or cover yourself, he tackles you on the bed, sloppily kissing and touching you. He’s rough, as you could have probably guessed, but also weirdly shy and gentle? For example, he fingers you so roughly and quickly you cum squirting within minutes, but he’s looking you in the eyes the entire time and gaging your expressions/reactions. He’s got a giant blush on his face, almost like he’s ashamed of doing this, but then bites your shoulder while he spears himself inside of you with a snarl.

Good news: you are no longer the loudest one in the house, Ghiacchio progressively growling then shouting the closer he is to climax. He jackhammers you with incredible speed, and bends your body in half to suit his own purposes. It takes him a couple rounds until he’s fully sated, but then he gets really soft afterwards. He likes to spoon you from behind so you don’t see his face, but he holds you gently, rubbing your shoulders where he nipped you, and soothing your sore muscles.

Risotto:

Let’s be honest: this isn’t his first time hearing you masterbate, he’s heard everyone in the base do it at least once. Hell, he’s even walked in on Melone a dozen times, once with Ghiacchio, so that’s not the issue. What is the issue, however, is that you’re being so loud and obvious he can’t ignore it. Even putting aside his personal feelings for you (which he isn’t necessarily willing to do) it would be bad if you were keeping yourself pent up like this around the others. You could be distracted on missions and hurt yourself or mess up your hit. Or worse- you could go to the others for sexual relief.

Clearly, you needed help, and it was your capo’s responsibility to help you take care of it, and only him. He turns invisible and sneaks into your room, but he needn’t have tried so hard to be stealthy. You were clearly in your own little world, fucking yourself on your fingers, crying out over the wet squelching of your aching pussy. He touches you lightly, so lightly you barely notice, while he’s still invisible. Sure, Risotto’s more than happy to do this, and he doesn’t care if you or the others know about his feelings, but he’s still a little shy, and unsure how you’ll react.

He’s worried for nothing, however, when you unconsciously rock into his touch, palming your breasts and licking the sweat off your brow. You’re confused about the phantom touches lingering on your body and invisible force rubbing your clit, but too aroused to do anything about it. You merely relax your tired body, letting yourself be finger-fucked into climax, crying out in pleasure-pain from the large, rough hands raking orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

After Risotto’s able to finger you enough to (he hopes) sufficiently stretch you out, he repositions your limp body, fluffing pillows under your head and placing you to face his still invisible body. He rubs the head of his cock against your clit and entrance, collecting as much lubrication onto his cock as he can. At the last minute, Risotto turns himself invisible, and watches the look of surprise and embarrassment turn into red hot need as he bottoms out into your aching, tender pussy.

He doesn’t go easy on you, each thrust hitting the deepest parts of you, forcing squeals out of you every time. You wrap your arms around him, trying to take some sort of control of the situation, but Risotto doesn’t give you an inch as he fucks the daylights out of you. Your moans spur him on, having gone from non-specific mewling to begging for Risotto to go deeper, harder, “more, more, more!” Risotto likes this side of you best, completely under his control and telling him exactly what he’s doing to you.

Far too soon, you orgasm again, already sensitive from your previous orgasms. Risotto isn’t done though, and doesn’t finish for several hours. Even when the others go home, and are tempted to say something, they hear who’s name you’re calling, and think twice before interrupting their capo’s “alone time.” Finally, after finishing, You pass out almost immediately, too exhausted to even clean yourself off. So, Risotto takes care of you, cleaning up your mess, putting some comfy pjs on you, and fetching some water and painkillers (just in case).

When he walks out of your room, the Squad is silent, no one daring to say anything (Ghiacchio and Formaggio are physically restraining Melone from talking). Risotto sees no need to say anything to them either, merely gives them all an unreadable look, before smiling to himself and returning to your room. Tomorrow, he’s going to need to rearrange the schedule; you’ll need some time off to recover.

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99liv3s · 3 years

Text

Hanna's Incident

Hanna screamed as a contraction tore through her petite body, splashing water around as she thrashed about in the tub. Her long red hair hung over her face as she panted heavily, sweat falling down her lovely pale, freckled face. She struggled to keep her legs open as the pain of whatever she was birthing made it difficult.

She didn't even know how she had gotten pregnant, as she had refrained from having sexual intercourse with anyone in her life, and there were those that would have taken her up on it if she had offered!! Hanna was 19 years old, and was blessed with a petite but very attractive ginger body, complete with pale skin, cute freckles, and dark red hair. She could have easily been the most popular girl in her school growing up, if not for her shy and somewhat quiet personality.

But, she loved to swim!! Hanna's parents had joked that she had been born with a spiritual connection to the water, her mother having had gone into labor with her while in the pool. Four months ago, she had eagerly ran out from the beach into the water and had enjoyed a day of swimming. It was after that day when things seemed to start happening!! Her body had begun to change, as if she was pregnant, but she could not understand it. Hanna had panicked, because she knew her parents would never believe her and would lose their minds if they thought she had gotten pregnant. It was for this reason that she never visited any doctors or hospitals, and her parents were gone on so many business trips, she had very little trouble keeping her condition hidden.

Another thing that Hanna could not understand was that her belly, four months after whatever it was that had happened, looked already like she was about seven month pregnant. This shocked and confused her, and she was still toying with the idea that maybe she should actually go to a hospital when one day, the contractions started.

Hanna's first instincts were to run herself a hot bath in the large tub in her bathroom. The contractions had been intense and painful, but as soon as she had settled in the hot bath water, she felt content, and her pain had eased. She had therefore relaxed and napped for an hour, before being awoken by the worst pain and pressure she had ever felt in her life. She felt as if a huge weight had dropped onto her hips, and she was hit with an overwhelming urge to push.

Hanna had been moaning and pushing for a few minutes when suddenly, her desire to keep her legs closed disappeared and she stretched them wide, for it felt to Hanna as if something was getting ready to come out! She screamed, gripping the sides of the tub in pain, as what felt like a bowling ball moved through her pelvis, and then, she felt the crowning.

"OOOH GOD, I'M GOING TO DIE!!" she shrieked in agony, as her vagina burned. Looking in a mirror on the other side of the tub, Hanna could see her exposed pussy, and it was not a baby's head that was crowning. It looked like the tip of a white egg. Part of Hanna was curious about this, but that curiosity was quickly silenced by the painful contractions that struggled to get the widest part of the egg out of her. Hanna wailed as the egg slowly emerged, sending waves of pain through her body. She screamed at the top of her lungs and arched her back as she tried to push, thrashing around but managing to keep her legs open, though she was sure the egg was keeping her open all on its own.

Hanna's shrieks increased in pitch as she felt the body of the egg seem to get stuck in her. Panting rapidly, she gathered her strength and pushed, bearing down with all her might, trying to ignore the burning torture that was tearing through her. At last, she felt a pop as something heavy splashed into the water. With her pregnant bump now gone, Hanna could see a white egg, the size of a small melon, sitting in the water between her legs. Though sore, she was no longer in agony, and so her curiosity took over once again. Gingerly and slowly, Hanna moved around in the tub so she could get her hands around the egg and examine it. It felt hard, but strangely light, now that it was outside her body, and through the shell, she could feel something moving around inside. Hanna also felt liquid slosh around inside the egg, meaning that whatever creature was inside it was encased in a protective fluid of its own, which explained why Hannah's water did not break... there was no water to break, for it was inside the egg.

As soon as she felt she had recovered some of her strength, she dressed and brought the egg with her to the beach where all of this seemed to have first started, determined to find some answers. She was inwardly thankful that the beach was currently deserted as she brought the egg to the surface of the water. Hanna was reluctant to enter the water fully herself, given what had happened last time. She did not have long to wait, however. A crack broke the silence of the deserted beach as the egg hatched, and out came... a mermaid???

Hanna looked at the newborn mermaid with both shock and fascination. It clearly had some of her features: her hair was the same red as Hanna's, and she had freckles, but the mermaid's skin was clearly much more tanned than her "mother's" and obviously, Hanna did not have a tail fin like the offspring, who flapped her shining blue fin happily in the water. The mermaid child smiled happily up at Hanna, who could not help but smile back, and then the two of them were slightly startled as another, much more "adult" mermaid suddenly popped out of the water near them.

The mermaid explained everything to Hanna. The mermaids had been too close to the surface when mating was taking place, and some of the "sperm", for lack of a better term, had accidentally entered Hanna's vagina while she had been swimming, causing her to get pregnant and give birth to the first human/merperson hybrid. The mermaid apologized profusely for this, but Hanna found that she was not angry at all as she watched her newborn daughter play in the water nearby. What had happened to her, though an accident, was also a small miracle. She knew that her new mermaid daughter could not stay with her, for she needed to be underwater to survive, but the merpeople assured Hanna that she could visit her daughter anytime she wished, and that soon, Hanna would be the first human to see their secret underwater city.

Hanna was overjoyed, as her life was changed forever. Later, that evening, when she returned to her home after the explanations were complete, Hanna decided that she would volunteer to carry even more mermaid eggs inside her.

End!!

#birth #giving birth #pregnant

137 notes · View notes

herstroywritten · 3 years

Text

No, really. They’re just friends.

Ya, I have no excuse for this one either. But listen, I thought I got the Rivusa jitters out with that last fic and I most definitely lied to myself. I’m gonna be writing one of these a week at this point. Idk. Maybe I’ll take prompts. If this is how my brain has decided its going to deal with this obsession, I may as well share it. Enjoy this circus of angst and ~soft~ feelz, fellow clowns.

She felt it before she saw it.

It took all of her strength not to crumble to her knees and just throw up her dinner's contents onto the earth beneath her feet. She's not sure how long they had been fighting for, but she knows they've never gone for this long before. She can feel it in her organs and the thumping beat of her powers within her mind as she desperately tries to not let the agony of all the burned ones around them get to her. They're screeching and wailing in inhuman sounds as swords are buried within their bony chests and magic is aimed directly at their suffering bodies.

It's Musa's worst nightmare, standing here in the middle of a battlefield trying to direct everyone in the directions of the never-ending stream of monsters while wielding a small dagger tight enough that she swears her fingers have become one with the hilt of the weapon. She watches as another creature lunges for Terra who is currently preoccupied with the two burned ones in front of her, strangling them with vines and wrapping them in thorns. Before she really has any time to think about what she's about to do, she jumps the creature coming from behind, wraps her body around it as they both go tumbling to the ground and plunges the dagger in her hand into its back, piercing through the position where a heart once existed when the body this beast currently inhabits belonged to a human.

She's so caught up in the agony that radiates from the animal-like creature that she barely registers the tingle of rage and bloodlust the blooms in the back of her mind. When she finally forces her attention away from the burned one below her, that same feeling becomes much more prominent. She never gets the chance to warn the others, not before she hears Sky scream his name from across the field of burning bodies and barren wasteland.

"Riven!"

She whips around so fast that she loses her footing, falls flat on her face, and as she scrambles to get back up she realizes that the tingle of bloodlust she felt was so loud because the creature that was emitting it was right in front of her, charging at her full speed. She turned her gaze to the right of the field, watching as Sky ran past Bloom and Stella and Aisha screaming Riven's name in voice gone raw. She can't see where he's looking, where Riven is. All she can see is the burned one making its way to her and she remembers that she should do something but her brain has gone numb, finally giving up on her and it feels like her body is retreating onto itself as the noise around her slowly eats away at her soul.

She watches frozen in place as Riven comes up from behind her, pushes her to the side, and lets the creature run straight into him instead. It takes a swing at him, scrapes like wild at whatever part of his skin it can get its claws on. She watches in horror, hears a noise from outside her mind and for a second she thinks it’s the screech of another burned one lurching for her but then she feels her jaw stretch and her vocal cords strain against her throat and then it becomes so very clear that the noise she's hearing is her own scream sounding his name. And she's not sure if she imagines this last part, but there are waves of purple air passing through the space across the expanse of the field. A terrible blast sounds in the distance (or was it right next to her?), and her body finally gives in to exhaustion.

________________________________________________________________

She awakens with his name on her lips, dreams of his body curling onto the bloody grass beneath him fresh in her mind. As she moves her body into an upward position, she feels two pairs of steady arms on top of her, pushing her down onto the bed once more. She's struggling to open her eyes as there are bright lights above her and her neck feels too tight to twist in any other direction. When she finally manages, she finds Aisha and Bloom at her sides. Their eyes are filled with worry, as they exchange glances between the two of them.

"Do you think she'll pass out again?" Hearing Aisha's calm voice puts Musa in a better mood, reminds her that things can't be too bad if her suitemate is speaking in such a collected tone.

"I don’t know. She's woken up three other times before and then just knocked out right after. And she's been screaming for at least an hour now…" Bloom's reply takes her by surprise. She wants to tell them she's fine, they can stop worrying about her. She can feel their anxiety heighten by the second and her mind is too numb to try to block out their feelings, so instead she's bombarded with them in neverending waves. Her throat feels like sandpaper as she tries to speak, so she goes for a moan instead. Aisha and Bloom's heads snap away from each other and down at her form as soon as they register the sound.

"Musa? Can you hear me?" She turns to Aisha as much as she can in her state and shoots her a small smile.

"Yeah…" her voice dies as she attempts to speak again.

"Oh! Let me get you some water!" Bloom's sprints out of the room (her and Terra's bedroom she realizes now as she watches the plants that Terra so delicately hung from the ceiling sway in the silent motion of the air around them). Aisha stands by her side and grabs her hand. Musa can't really see her face from this position, but she can feel the relief and joy rolling off her suitemate. She tries to get up again, and Aisha is at her side in seconds, pushing pillows up above the headboard and trying to make the awkward position as comfortable as possible.

Bloom returns with the water and some hot tea, and she drinks both glasses without complaining about the fact that it's not the tea Terra usually prepares for them in the morning. She's just grateful to be able to feel her vocal chords functioning once again.

"Wow, you must have been so thirsty," Bloom chuckles as Musa drowns the last of her piping hot tea.

"You have no idea," she manages to finally croak out some words. "How long have I been out?"

"A day, give or take," replies Aisha.

"A whole day! Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Umm, we tried… but you were going through a bit of a magic stress-induced coma."

"A what?"

"Magic stress-induced coma, or at least that's what Dowling explained it to us as. You overexerted your powers to their breaking point and your body and needed time to rejuvenate itself," Aisha explained.

"Kinda like what happened to me last semester…" Bloom's voice grew thinner and thinner as she finished that line. Musa turned to look at her redhead suitemate, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

"But that happened when you got your wings… and I didn't even do anything out of the ordinary…" Bloom and Aisha exchanged looks at her comment, and she practically shivers at the intense emotions of caution and anxiety that her mind picks up.

"At least, I don’t think I did," she narrows her eyes at the two girls in front of her. "There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

There's an awkward silence as she watches Bloom and Aisha communicate through their eyes, as if deciding whether to tell her or not and how.

It's Bloom who finally speaks up. "Something did happen. A lot happened, actually. We're not sure how exactly, none of us were really paying attention because we were busy dealing with the burned ones. Sky probably saw the most out of all of us. He says he saw a burned one coming for you, and he tried to call your name but you didn’t hear. And then he saw Riven running toward you, but he realized too late that Riven wasn't holding his swords and that the monster was getting too close too fast for him to do anything but block the attack. Sky started running after Riven, but it was too late-"

"What do you mean, it was too late?" Musa's voice rises in pitch, her nerves fray at the edges as the nightmare she'd been having came to reality.

"It tore into Riven's skin. Deep." Aisha continues the story, and before Musa could open her mouth to ask something else, Aisha was talking again. "That's not the whole of it." That’s not the whole of it? What else could there be? Where was this going? Come to think of it, why did she remember none of it?

"As soon as Riven's body landed on the ground, there was a bright light and a sound that surprised us all. This is the part that we all remember… the sound was coming from you Musa. You were glowing, and the earth was shaking at the force of whatever noise was coming through. We couldn't see you for a few seconds, just a lot of light. I remember the burned one I was dealing with a the time fell backward on itself and, and… I don’t know, it, like, disintegrated. Without a sword through its chest or any outward magic. All of them just fell to the ground in pieces." By this point, Musa's mind is reeling. How was that possible? And why did any of it matter? Where was Riven? Where were Terra and Stella? Sky?

"I got to you first," continues Bloom. "You were in the air, and you had wings behind your back Musa. You got your wings."

"What?!"

"I know, I know. It's insane, but I swear you had them, and then when I finally got close enough to you to touch you, you were falling. The wings had run their course and your energy was basically drained. I managed to fly you back down to the ground but you were already passed out at that point."

Musa doesn't exactly know how to process all this information, but she doesn't give herself too much time to dwell on it. There are other problems at hand. "Where are Stella and Terra?"

"Terra is in the infirmary, helping her dad with some of the wounded. Stella broke a rib and sprained her ankle during the battle, so she's in the infirmary too but Harvey said she should be ok. We've been taking turns visiting her, making sure she doesn't somehow try to sneak out. She's been asking about you. Bloom was just there with her, and she left Sky on Stella duty. Honestly, that girl has all of Alfea watching her and making sure she doesn't do something stupid. Future queen and all-" Aisha's rambling. Her words are picking up pace, and even if Musa wasn't an empath, she would have been able to notice the unease in her emotions and the perturbation behind her attitude.

"And Riven? Where's Riven?" God, please let him be okay. That stupid, stubborn specialist who insisted that he train her when Dowling had asked Silva for a personal trainer for Musa a few weeks ago, right after they had managed to push Rosalind out of the school.

Her breathing picks up as she watches Bloom watch Aisha, who's now looking at the wall in front of her and frowning.

"Oh for god's sake, just spit it out! You're killing me."

It seems Bloom has finally worked up the nerve, as she catches Musa's eye and states in a quiet voice, "He's also in the infirmary. But, it's not good, Musa. The burned one that attacked him is gone, but it got him right in his heart. The poison already made contact. Professor Harvey is trying his best, and Dowling tried some magic healing too, but it's just not… it's not working. He's going into some sort of surgery right now. Harvey is going to try to kill the poison from the inside out."

Musa's world is spinning, and she feels her breathing quicken. Damn him, she thinks. Damn Riven and his stupid need to jump right into danger. She's furious at him for doing it, for jumping in front of her when that blow was so very clearly meant for her to take. Perhaps she would have been able to handle it better, she had magic and could likely recover faster. It should have been her on the surgery table right now.

"Musa, I'm sorry. We don't really know what's going on between you guys and we didn't want to say the wrong thing, so we haven't asked. But we're here if you want to talk, and we want you to know-"

Musa cuts Bloom off, "I want to go see him." Bloom and Aisha exchange another look, and Musa thinks she might actually lose her mind if they keep doing that.

"Stop that. Stop looking at each other like that, and stop looking at me like I'm a pity party you decided to attend. And for the love of God, stop talking as if he's going to die."

"Musa-" Aisha never gets the chance to speak.

"I want to see him."

"I don't think-"

"You're either going to help me get off this bed and to the infirmary, or you're going to watch me crawl my way there. Your choice." Musa narrows her eyes at the two girls, waiting to hear the answer she knows they'll pick. If there's one thing this semester has taught her, it's that she would do anything for these girls, and they would do anything for her. It's become an unspoken rule amongst the suite: One of them makes a dumb choice, they all make a dumb choice. Bloom wanted to go follow voices in the night, they all followed noises until the sun came up. Stella wanted to sneak out to spy on her mother in an effort to find the hidden secrets of Solaria, they were all ready to sneak into the royal palace and play dirty. Terra wanted to sneak in secret potions from her cousin into the school so that they can bring back Headmistress Dowling, they all offered to hide random potions in their sock drawers, in their purses, under their beds, between the cracks of their wooden floorboards. Aisha wanted to sneak into the East Wing to find the war room Bloom had stumbled upon last semester so that she could compare documents and find information while Rosalind's guards stood watch just meters away, the rest of the girls created a distraction. In other words, if one falls, they all fall.

And Musa had never asked for them to fall with her, had never wanted them to sink with her. Not when they begged her to let them follow her on her nightly walks after Sam and her had broken up. Not when the anniversary of her mother's death creeped up on her during Rosalind's reign of terror, and they asked if she wanted them to sneak her out and back home so that she could visit the grave. She'd never asked because honestly, she felt that if they were going to get caught doing anything, it should be something that was going to make the world better, not something that included her unresolved past traumas. But, fuck it, she was asking now. And she knew they would not say no.

"Musa, he's in surgery. Harvey is about to cut his chest open, I don’t think you want to see that." Aisha's words are gentle, carrying with them waves of concern and protectiveness. Musa knows that her suitemates are just trying to make sure she makes it out of this somewhat unscathed, but she also knows that Riven has already left his marks and scars all over her body. They may be trying to heal those same scars before they become too fully bleeding gashes, but she's trying to make sure they stay there, that he stays with her. That's the only way she's coming out of this without any wounds.

"I know. And I'm going to be there when they do it. I'm going to take his pain. He took that blow for me. It was mine to begin with. It's only fair."

"Musa-"

"They can't use painkillers on him. I know they can't. Harvey couldn’t use them on Sam when he was wounded at the end of last semester. The other mind fairies are not as advanced as I am, I've been practicing with Dowling since she got back. He needs me. And I need to do this. Please, let me."

It doesn't take too much to break them down. "Alright," sighs Aisha.

________________________________________________________________

Sky refuses to let her into the room.

Apparently, Stella was not the only thing he was on the lookout for. Silva and Dowling had positioned him outside the surgery door of the infirmary, telling him to make sure he let no one in until Harvey said so. When Musa had entered through the doors, holding on to Aisha and Bloom as she stepped her way through the room with as much grace as she could muster in her condition, Stella had called her name from her bed of bandages causing Sky to leave his post and run to help the two girls struggling to hold her weight beneath them. Terra, who had been across the room tending to a wounded soldier with Sam, left her brother to finish stitching up the cut and made her way to Musa.

"I need to get into the surgery room," she'd said before Sky and Terra got the chance to ask her how she was. And then Sky began his speech about how he couldn't let her in, and about how it wasn't something she would want to see and honestly, she wished she was able to control minds at this moment instead of just emotions.

In the end, it’s Stella who says, "Oh, for God's sake. If she wants to do it, let her. She'll get in there one way or another, the least we can do is make sure she doesn’t try to climb the window and break a leg or something." Her voice lilts in a sarcastic manner, but her eyes are steady as she catches Musa's eye and nods her head toward the surgery door at the end of the room. Musa steps away from Sky and the girls, stumbling her way toward that same door, and this time, Sky didn't try to stop her.

She cracks the door open, and finds Harvey holding a sterile knife to an unconscious Riven's chest as he lays on a cold, gray bed table. She made it right before the first cut.

"Stop!"

Harvey turns to her, surprised to find her up and about. "Musa, you shouldn't-"

"I'm going to take his pain." It's a statement that leaves no room for arguments. Maybe Professor Harvey realizes he needs to move quick before the specialist on the table takes a turn for the worst or maybe he's just finally stopped trying to pretend like he can control what hormonal and impulsive teenagers do, but he doesn't bother to try his hand at convincing her that this is maybe not the best idea when she herself is worn out. He just nods his head and lets her take Riven's hand.

And then she forces herself to watch as the knife cuts into his skin, below the black and red wound that adorns his chest. She doesn't flinch when his breath hitches in his sleep and she feels white, blinding pain fill her mind. She doesn’t back away as his body begins to shiver and her legs shake along with him. She simply locks her arms across his shoulders to stop his body from moving and let Professor Harvey finish what he started, lowering her head to the crook of his neck, lips brushing his ear. "Don’t you dare," she whispered, furious tears streaming down her face and onto his neck as her body takes the brunt of his pain. "Don’t you dare die in my arms."

She takes his pain even after Harvey is finished and Riven's chest is stitched back up, partially because she doesn't want him to suffer and partially because his pain has become so engrained in her mind that she can't seem to let him go. Before the professor leaves, he drags a chair to the bedside and pushes her onto it, her body still curled onto the boy on the surgery bed.

"Sit."

So she sits, and she cries, and she breathes in his scent, and she intertwines the fingers of her right hand with his, her left hand finding its way to his hair. She rubs circles into his palm, and plays with the tendrils of his hair as she watches his face and cries.

_______________________________________________________________

Six hours later, her cries have become hiccups and his eyes are fluttering open.

"Hello, gorgeous," he whispers, his green eyes focusing on her brown ones in the light of the rising moon through the windows of the cramped surgery room. She's relieved to see his usual smirk find its way onto his face.

She chokes on her laugh, and fresh tears start streaming down her face, these ones more happy than the last. "Hi," she whispers back.

They don't say anything else that night, both too tired and too elated to not be dead. And, perhaps, too scared to say what they both probably already know. So she sits next to him with her hands still all over him, and he watches her eyes until they close and she falls asleep beside him.

________________________________________________________________

He spends three weeks in the infirmary.

They situate him next to Stella, and the two of them spend the days and nights bickering humorously back and forth. He uses her title as an insult because he knows it gets under her skin and he might as well take advantage of the fact that she's bedridden and her powers are still weak so she can't blind him for the comments with either magic or her two bare hands. She digs into him about Musa, because she can and she wants to make sure that her friend isn't going to come out of whatever this is with a broken heart. And also, she's just nosy and wants to give her other suitemates some details when she finally gets out of the health wing. Too bad for her though, because Riven stands firm on the hill that they're "friends," a term Stella's never heard him use before and briefly debates if that's his equivalent for "girlfriend".

Sky and the girls visit every day before and after classes. They make sure Riven and Stella never eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner alone. They keep them up to date on the latest gossip. Terra and Bloom bring a bunch of bord games for them to play, and it’s the weirdest and most comforted Riven has ever felt. Sky even sneaks in his vape, which Harvey finds and immediately takes away, stating that he can't have substances in his system until he is fully healed.

But Musa, Musa never leaves. Not even when Stella leaves the infirmary and it's just Riven in there. Her friends have to force her out the door and to class in the morning, and to her bed when it reaches nighttime. She brings her headphones with her every day, crawls into his bed without asking, and slips one of the earbuds into his ear. They sit there and listen to music and just talk. He teases her about the songs he thinks are sappy, she dares him to keep making fun of her music taste so that she can push him off the bed.

"In my fragile state?! You wouldn't dare."

"Try me."

"Oh, I want to. Believe me, I want to." And she blushes and ducks her head below the hollow of his collarbone.

One night, when the girls come to pick up Musa and take her back to her room at midnight, as has become their nightly duty now, they find the couple snuggled into one another, headphone strings tangled between them. They can't bring themselves to tear the two apart, so after Bloom snaps a picture of them huddled up, they leave.

"Am I not catching something here, or are they still not a thing?" Terra asks as they exist the room, ever the confused one when it comes to these situations.

"As far as I know, they're still just friends and he's still an idiot, according to Musa."

Stella rolls her eyes at Aisha's response. "Yeah, sure. They're just friends, and Sky and Bloom are just acquaintances who casually make out in their free time."

________________________________________________________________

It's been two days since Riven was released from bedrest, and the whole gang is huddled around a picnic blanket between two trees on the far side of campus. It was Bloom's idea to have a "we made it to the end of the school year alive and in one piece!" picnic.

Sky and Bloom are sitting next to one of the trees that they've situated the large checkered blanket under. She's leaning against the tree, and he's laying down with his head on her lap. He laughs at her as she tells the story of her first picnic, his blue eyes following her every movement.

The rest of them are situated around the other edges of the blanket, listening to the story and laughing along.

"Ducks?!" exclaims Stella. "You were chased by ducks?!"

"Dude, don't laugh! Those things are scary! And when they're angry, they flap their wings at you-"

"Ah, yes," Musa jokes form her position next to Riven and against the other tree. "The wings are what really raise the fear level when it comes to ducks." She pops the last of her grapes into her mouth, and Riven watches her as she casually leans forward to grab some off his plate.

"Hey! Hands off, pixie. You have your own plate." She grabs the grapes anyway before getting back into sitting position.

"Ok, first off, it's fairy. Not pixie-"

"Not with your height, it's not." She punches his arm for that comment, the same arm she was practically sprawled over when he'd been dying on the surgery table, and he has to physically stop himself from shivering at her touch.

"Second, I'll trade you for the grapes."

"You don’t have anything I want, " he grumbles as he pushes her hand away from his biceps, only to have her slide her fingers between his and use him as leverage to pull herself closer to him. She's practically sitting on his lap when she leans in to his face, forgetting that there are others around them, eyes boring into his and whispers, "Are you sure about that?" No, he's most definitely not sure about it. And she knows it, so he just grumbles something about how he doesn’t really like grapes anyway and hands her his whole plate.

And if the rest notice that Musa never leaves Riven's lap, they don't mention it. The gang spends the better part of the afternoon sprawled out on that blanket and Musa and Riven spend it basically on top of each other. They're practically inches away from each other's faces each time he turns to make a stupid comment about the stories that are being told and they just get closer and closer each time she turns to chastise him about it.

And if the rest of the girls or Sky notice Riven's hand on Musa's hip as she leans into him, her left hand instinctively resting on the nape of his neck and twirling the ends of his hair between her fingers (a force of habit now), or the way his eyes follow her as she leans forward to shuffle the deck of Uno cards in the center of their little circle, or the undeniable heart eyes they throw at each other when they think no one else is staring… well, no one mentions that either. But the smirk Stella aims at the other girls and the eyebrow that she raises in their direction basically screams, "Yeah, right. Just friends."

________________________________________________________________

It's been one week since Riven was released from bedrest, and he's still not allowed anywhere near the training grounds for fear that his injury needs a little more time to recover. He showed up to combat class anyway, hoping Silva wouldn't notice or just wouldn't care. Silva did notice, and he immediately forced Riven off the training mats and on the benches. So that's how Riven ends up sitting on the sidelines, watching Musa spar with Tames, a third year specialist whose eyes linger a tad bit too long on Musa's legs as she twirls around and aims a high kick right at his chest, knocking him to the ground. Riven has to remind himself multiple times that Tames is nice guy, decent guy. He doesn't deserve a black eye. It's not his fault the Musa just so happens to have a great pair of legs and knows how to use them. A thought that then brings about an onslaught of fantasies to Riven's mind. And with those fantasies comes to mind another fact, that Riven should not feel so protective over a girl that's obviously not his girlfriend… Right?

By the halfway mark of the training session, he's pissed and has already considered sneaking off to the back of the school and smoking a joint or two. Maybe go for a walk, punch a wall, kick a tree. Whatever the hell. He'll do anything else than just sit here and watch Musa pin Tames to the ground with her legs and chest all over him one more time.

He's so frustrated that he doesn’t even notice as Musa leaves the mat mid-session and sprints to him, grabbing her duffel bag on the way.

"Wait up!" He slows down but doesn't stop walking. When she finally catches up to him, they're behind the school and he makes his way to one of the many pillars that surround the walls of the castle. As he leans against it and pulls out a joint, she reaches upward and grabs it from his hands before it reaches his lips. He feels the tips of her fingers brush against his mouth instead and wonders how the hell that gets him higher than any drug he's ever tried.

"You're not supposed to be smoking, " she states matter-of-factly, narrowing her eyes at him.

"And you're not supposed to be here. Seems like we've both some decisions." What he wants to say is, "Stay. Don’t go back to that training mat. Stay here with me instead."

She sighs. "Riven, Harvey made it very clear that you have to hold off on the smoking until he's sure your body is fully recovered."

"Not this again," he groans. "Don't tell me you're also going to make me sit on a bench and watch as Tames basically undresses you with his eyes-"

"What are you on about?" She's looking at him as though he's grown a second head.

"Oh, please. You can't tell me you haven’t noticed his eyes all over you in the past hour. It's honestly getting to be a little bit creepy." Her eyes flicker to his and she holds his gaze, a look of amusement on her face.

"Oh, and when you do it, it's not creepy?"

"At least I don't try to hide it." Her brown eyes gleam up at him as she presses herself and those heavenly legs against his form, perching herself on her tippy toes so that they're almost at eye-level.

"Clearly not. I mean, I guess Tames could have been staring occasionally, but Riven, your eyes didn't wander off of me once during that training session." He nearly chokes on his own spit as she smirks up at him. He'd really thought she hadn't noticed.

"I wasn't-"

"You were. That's ok, I do it too." The air around them suddenly feels heavier, and he watches as she pulls her eyes to his mouth, licks her lips with the tip of her tongue. He wants to kiss her, to test just how willing she is to practice all the things she's been implying for the past few weeks.

"Oi! Riven! Musa! Combat class is on the other side of campus!" It's Silva and he's clearly not amused at their run away from class. Riven questions for a hot second how bad it would be for him if he murdered a professor in cold blood, but then Musa's eyes give him a sultry little look as she presses herself just a little closer to him before pulling apart and turning to the combat professor.

"Sorry, Professor Silva. I forgot my duffel bag at the stone circle and Riven was just helping me grab it." Her words are smooth as honey and nonchalant, acting as if their teacher hadn’t just caught them in a very awkward position at a very awkward time.

"Uh huh. I'm sure he was. Get back on the mat, Musa." And then she just walks her way back to the grounds without even giving him a second look. But he watches her as she practically saunters her way back to Tames and he swears her hips have an extra sway to them.

"Damn it," he thinks. She's right, he does watch her every move.

________________________________________________________________

It's been three weeks since Riven was released from bedrest, which means it's been about a month of innuendos, not-so innocent touches, and downright dirty looks. At this point, the sexual tension has gotten to everyone around Riven and Musa. Bets have been placed on when the inevitable will happen and the Winx girls have become more invested in this particular progression of events than any of their coursework. Even Aisha stops stressing over exam season and joins in on the speculation.

So when it finally happens, Terra doesn't even blink when she walks to her room on a Sunday afternoon after a long day at the greenhouse, only to hear some very specific sounds coming from the other side of the door. She turns right back around and into the living room before the moans start.

She finds Stella on the couch filing her nails and Bloom sitting across from her flipping through a magazine lazily.

"Stella, I owe you 20."

#rivusa #fate the winx saga #musa #musa fate #riven #riven fate

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dfdph · 3 years

Text

Spotlight - Prologue

Author D.

Pairing Jungkook x Reader (female)

Warnings Mentions of cyber bullying

Word count 3.5k

Summary “Her stylist had chosen a wonderful black Elie Saab Haute Couture for the occasion. The gown was long, sleek and structured, with overlaying tulle and tafta, the top was semi-transparent, with long sleeves and padded shoulders, and the whole dress was adorned with an intricate golden embroidery that highlighted her figure craftily. Her hair had been pinned neatly in a bun on top of her head, with some twists and braids that she had no way of replicating on her own. The make up artist had played with golden eyeshadow and had drawn a strong and thick black line with the eyeliner, making her gaze sharper and sexier. Y/N looked like a chic princess warrior, ready for battle. And, somehow, she really felt like it. She wasn’t anxious only about the ceremony, she had read the lineup, she had read his name. She knew there was no avoiding him this time: her first love, Jeon Jungkook.”

Award season was the period of the year Y/N hated the most. Despite being in the entertainment industry since she was a teenager - and now being in her late 20s -, she still couldn’t get used to the stress it put her through. She actually looked forward to dressing up and posing in front of dozens and dozens of photographers at the beginning of her career, but now that she had made a name for herself, now that everyone knew who she was, Y/N would gladly stay in her king sized bed watching some movie instead. Unfortunately, even if she wanted to, there was no way she could avoid attending this season’s ceremonies.

The past year had been Y/N’s most rewarding yet. She had been in fact casted by a renowned and award-winning director as the main character of his new historical movie, which turned out highly successful at the box office - earning more than $110,000,000 on its opening weekend - and highly acclaimed by the critics who had praised, not only the cinematography and the intricacy of the plot, but especially Y/N’s performance - described as raw, heartbreaking and graceful. To no one’s surprise, she was soon nominated as Best Actress in most of the award events, winning all of them despite the high competition and enriching the collection of trophies she had displayed in her home office.

When she debuted ten years ago with a minor role in an episode of a television series she only dared dreaming of reaching such a peak in her career. She could have never imagined that she would become one of the highest paid actresses in the industry, that she would afford buying her dream car and her dream house in Los Angeles, and that she would have millions of fans supporting her all over the world. Yet, there she was, getting ready for ‘the dream come true’, the award of the awards: the Oscars. And she, Y/N Y/L/N, had been chosen as the strongest contender in her category: Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role. She had already been nominated twice before, but this time was different, this time she felt she could actually win. Hence why she couldn’t stop walking anxiously back and forth in the 5 star hotel room her staff had booked for the day.

Her stylist had chosen a wonderful black Elie Saab Haute Couture for the occasion. The gown was long, sleek and structured, with overlaying tulle and tafta; the top was semi-transparent, with long sleeves and padded shoulders, and the whole dress was adorned with an intricate golden embroidery that highlighted her figure craftily. Her hair had been pinned neatly in a bun on top of her head, with some twists and braids that she had no way of replicating on her own. The make up artist had played with golden eyeshadow and had drawn a strong and thick black line with the eyeliner, making her gaze sharper and sexier.

Y/N looked like a chic princess warrior, ready for battle. And, somehow, she really felt like it. She wasn’t anxious only about the ceremony, she had read the lineup, she had read his name. She knew there was no avoiding him this time: her first love, Jeon Jungkook.

Y/N was a completely different woman from who she was back in high school.

She had grown in a very poor family. Her mother had to raise her, alongside her older brother, all on her own, working long hours as a housekeeper for a rich and snob family who mistreated her and paid her just enough so that she couldn’t resign. She was a very sweet woman who had to struggle every day to give her two children the most normal life she could afford. Y/N’s father, on the other hand, was never present: an alcoholic who couldn’t keep a job for more than a month, he regularly failed to pay child support after the divorce and never once made a call to hear from them.

Y/N understood the importance of money early on, in elementary school, when her classmates started teasing her because of her hand-me-down clothes. She was used to wear her brother’s old t-shirts every now and then and never thought too much of it. She didn’t see any difference between the rock bands pictures or the flowery prints, she didn’t realize it mattered. And when she had told her mother that those girls had laughed at her, the woman almost cried, so Y/N decided not to mention it ever again.

Y/N grew up into a very introverted and shy teenager. She wasn’t good with socializing and generally preferred being on her own. Her desire for solitude was so evident that her classmates gave up on their attempts to befriend her and she soon became the lone wolf of their high school. By junior high, she became almost invisible.

Strangely enough, Y/N’s dream was that to become an actress, a profession that required a lot of things she lacked of. Confidence, to begin with, or charisma. The only thing she believed she could do was hide inside the unused storage room on the second floor and play with the old props left by the drama club.

She met Jungkook while doing just that.

The boy was just coming back from the first meeting of the Mathematics Discussion Club - of which he was the president - when he heard someone crying from a room he never noticed before. He opened the door quietly, peeking his head inside the dim lighted room, only to find the silhouette of a girl lying on the floor in a fetal position and seemingly crying her lungs out in pain. She had her hands clutching tightly her head and she was sobbing so hard that she was on the verge of hyperventilating. On instinct, Jungkook rushed to her side, his books, pencils and calculator clattering all over the floor.

“Are you ok?!” he screamed in worry, putting his hands over her shoulders.

Y/N jumped up, her wailing stopping so abruptly that it made Jungkook jump as well. As it turned out, Y/N was doing nothing more than acting the part of a terminally ill girl who was suffering intense head pains - a part she had invented all on her own to test her ability with dramatic scenes. it was something she did quite often. Just the day before she was performing Meryl Streep’s part in “Into the Woods” to an invisible audience.

“I-I’m ok.” she mumbled, drying the fake tears from her cheeks.

“What the hell?” Jungkook murmured, looking at her in astonishment. “What was that?”

“I was ... I was just pretending.” she replied, her voice horse from all the screaming.

“Pretending?” he repeated as he sat bewildered on the dirty floor. “You were pretending to be in pain? Why?!”

Y/N felt the heat rising to her face. This was the first time she had to explain her weird little secret to anyone. “Acting.”

“Acting.” Jungkook repeated once again. “And why are you doing it in here?” he asked looking around the creepy space, with its spider webs and abandoned miscellaneous objects. “What is this place anyways?”

“It was the old storage room of the drama club.” Y/N replied. “They don’t use it anymore. There’s no space left.”

“I can see that.” he said staring at the shelf just above their heads that looked about ready to collapse. “So, I guess you’re not in the drama club?”

“No.” Y/N answered looking down at her crossed legs. She wondered if he was going to snitch on her. She really didn’t want to get in trouble. Besides, it wasn’t like she was doing something that terrible.

“I could tell.” Jungkook replied. “I saw last year’s winter play and, let me tell you, you, crying on the floor 5 minutes ago, were ten times better than that.”

Y/N looked back at him with her mouth open in surprise. She had no idea who this boy sitting crossed legged on the floor with her was, with his white button down shirt and over washed jeans, but he singlehandedly gave her the best compliment she could wish for. “Right?!” she exclaimed sitting straighter. “I thought so too! But everybody else acted as if they saw the best performance of their lives! I knew I couldn’t be the only one who taught that their interpretation of Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra was nothing but underwhelming.”

“Damn right.” the boy nodded in agreement. “I actually looked forward to it because I prefer it over Romeo and Juliet, but I was so disappointed. You should have played Cleopatra!” he added in an afterthought. “Why didn’t you?”

Y/N felt herself blush once again. “I never performed in front of anyone.” she confessed. “Apart from my mother an brother, that is.”

“That’s a shame.” Jungkook murmured pensively. “You have real talent, storage room girl. Believe me, I’m an expert.”

Being friends with Jungkook was easy, falling in love with him was even easier. It came so naturally that Y/N didn’t even have the chance to fully realize it before they were officially dating.

He was everything Y/N wasn’t and everything she wanted to be. Even at 16 years old he already was a very confident boy. He was incredibly smart, funny and a little bit nerdy. He didn’t belong to the upper class of their high school social pyramid, nor the middle, but he had no care in matching those standards because he loved himself for who he was - Stark Trek t-shirts, consumed tennis shoes and all.

In the short year the two of them were together, from junior to senior year, Jungkook became the reason behind Y/N’s happiness. She wasn’t aware of how lonely she really had been while asking to be left alone. Jungkook taught her to be open towards the world, to be curious and to believe in herself and her abilities. Thanks to him and his never ending support Y/N came to realize that she wasn’t meant to hide inside the abandoned storage room on the second floor, but she deserved the chance to follow her dreams.

Together they filed their applications for college: Jungkook always wanted to become an aerospace engineer and had set the personal - and ambitious - goal to work for NASA; Y/N, on the other hand, had worked hard during her last year in high school to win a scholarship for whichever Performing Arts College was willing to take her in - it didn’t matter which one because she knew she started her acting career late. All she wanted was to study to become an actress, to perform on stage and bring to life incredible stories, to be someone one day and someone else the other.

But it was such a big dream, something so fickle and risky, that Y/N couldn’t help but being overwhelmed by fear, not only for her future but that of Jungkook’s as well, because after all, despite all the changes she had gone through, a part of her was still hiding from the world. So she did something stupid, something very cliché, that nevertheless seemed the right thing to do at that time: she broke up with him.

It’s for his own good, she had thought. He is brilliant, I don’t want to hold him back.

Jungkook fought her and for her. He was afraid something like this would happen, he was sure it wasn’t what she really wanted, he knew she was just afraid. But Y/N was a very talented actress indeed and for a moment, as she looked straight into his dark eyes and told him she didn’t love him anymore, Jungkook felt his confidence waver.

“I’m really thankful for what you’ve done for me.” she had said. “I wouldn’t be who I am today if it wasn’t for you.”

“Please don’t lie.” he had whispered, trying to stop the angry and disappointed tears from falling from his eyes. “Don’t pretend. Not with me.”

“I’m not.” Y/N replied, her voice firm. “I loved you, I really did. You’ll be my first love forever, Kook.”

And the very next day, just like in one of those cheesy television dramas her mother loved so much, she flew hundreds of miles away from him, trying to not looking back.

If she said she never regretted it over the following years, it would be a lie. As she started her new life, she never failed to think of him. She wondered how he was doing, if his dreams were coming true and if he ever thought of her as much as she did of him. As she grew up and matured, Y/N realized how stupid her choice had been and how important Jungkook’s role had been in shaping her personality and in breaking her shell. Y/N was sure of it: if he didn’t found her that day inside the storage room, she wouldn’t be who she was today.

Years after she broke up with him, Jungkook still popped up into her mind every now and then. She thought of him the first time she was casted for a walk on role in a movie; she thought of him the first time her name was credited in an episode of a TV show; she thought of him the first time she won an award.

She thought of him with regret and a little bit of melancholy. Y/N never forgot him. Not even when when became so famous she barely had the time and energy to think about herself.

The first time Y/N heard his name spoken by someone else’s mouth, three years ago, was a complete shock. She never talked of him to anyone, apart form her mother, her brother and Jimin, her best friend and manager, so he was supposed to be a nobody to everyone else but herself. As it turned out, with a very mysterious turn of events, Jungkook had left the path towards aerospace engineering and had decided to take his chance with acting. And from what Y/N gathered from the overheard conversation, he was starting to make a name for himself as well.

That night, back in her multimillion dollar villa, Y/N researched his name on the internet for the first time.

He was new to the industry and there wasn’t much about him, it was like he popped out of nowhere. But it was definitely Jungkook, Y/N recognized him from the pictures. He had grown into a beautiful man, so handsome that she did a double take and then had to stop herself from drooling. It wasn’t like he was ugly when they were together, but he was just a skinny teenager back then and this was a man, a real man who had lost all of his baby fat and now had a razor sharp jaw and a muscular body. Apparently, he was the protagonist of an ongoing TV series that was gathering a lot of success putting him in the center of the attention. ‘The new heartthrob’, that was how he was being called.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what happened after they lost contact with each other that made him change his career so drastically. Whenever she thought about him she imagined him working on some challenging project for NASA, never on a movie set. She remembered he was passionate about theatre and cinema, but never once he had expressed the desire to become an actor like her. Y/N didn’t know what to think.

As the years passed, Y/N watched as his acting career grew, as he starred in a success after the other and as he earned the respect of even the most strict directors and critics.

Y/N watched, yes, but from afar, never daring to contact him and secretly avoiding the chances to meet him again.

She had been successful, until now.

The drive to the Dolby Theatre went far too quick for Y/N’s taste. She could barely remember how she got from the hotel room where she had been preparing to the black luxury van. Before she knew it her stylist was taking away her favorite slippers and was putting on her dress-matching Dolce&Gabbana heels.

Y/N didn’t have the time to think. Three years of running away and finally the moment had come. Jeon Jungkook - her first love, her ‘the one that got away’, probably her biggest regret - was probably in the car behind hers.

“Y/N, two minutes.” Jimin called out, warning her to get ready. “You know the deal. Deep breath and own that red carpet as you always do. And-”

“I know.” Y/N interrupted him. “The left side is my best side.”

The man, dressed up as well in a black tux, gave her a wink. “I’ll be right behind you. You got this.” he declared, looking at her intensely. “This is the one.”

“Thanks, Chim. But from all we know I could be the next Di Caprio.” she joked, the roaring noise from the red carpet now deafening.

“On my dead body.” he smirked. “Talk to you later, princess.”

“Later.” she hugged him briefly. “Oh, can you please make sure my mom and Seokjin got in fine? I totally forgot to call them.”

“Of course. My assistant is with them, anyways.” Jimin said, putting a hand on the door handle. “Ready?”

Y/N took a deep breath, put on her best charming expression and nodded. “Ready.”

As soon as he opened the door, Y/N was immediately hit by the boisterous and echoing call of the fans. She wasn’t sure if it was only her impression but it seemed like every single one of them was screaming her name. She was, indeed, one of the biggest names of the night, there was no use in denying it, but Y/N couldn’t help but wish they stopped making her presence so obvious.

A young usher, pretending not so well to be indifferent and trying to be professional, guided her towards the beginning of the red carpet, hundreds of cellphones following her movements like magnets.

“Please, come this way, miss Y/L/N.” the usher instructed in a slightly trembling voice. “There will be someone from the staff signaling you were to stop to pose for the photographers.”

Y/N knew this already. She had attended countless of events like this, after all. Yet she didn’t say anything to the shy boy, preferring to smile at him sincerely. “Thank you very much.” she said, watching as he blushed violently.

Y/N started her walk, Jimin and her stylist following a few steps behind to make sure that everything went smoothly. The photographers went wild as soon as they saw her, the flashes of their cameras blinding her almost angrily. She was used to it now, she had mastered the trick: squinting sexily and blinking strategically.

As she walked slowly towards the entrance of the theatre, posing with confidence and channeling her best princess warrior, Y/N almost forgot the worries she had about Jungkook, until a new wave of screams echoed to her ears. She stiffened, even if imperceptibly. It was him, the line up said he would be walking right after her.

The time had finally come. Ten years had passed and she was seeing Jeon Jungkook again for the first time.

She continued to walk nonchalantly, every step confident and her chin up and proud. But once she reached the end of the red carpet and the photographers moved their attention away from her, Y/N couldn’t help but stop for a second, ignoring a fellow actress and ‘friend’ waving at her a few feet further.

She could feel him, she could feel his presence behind her back. She could either turn around and catch a glimpse of him, or resume walking and pretend he wasn’t there. It took her a couple of moments of indecisiveness, in which Jimin looked at her questioningly, before taking the umpteenth deep breath of the evening.

She turned, the hem of her $30 000 black dress brushing almost magically over the carpet, and there he was. For a moment the memory of the nerdy boy from high school overlapped the image in front of her. She was well aware of the fact that he wasn’t that teenager anymore, she had seen his pictures, watched his movies and interviews. The boy she remembered was long gone: standing tall and proud, more than twenty feet from her, was now Jeon Jungkook ‘the actor’, dressed in a perfectly tailored night blue tux that highlighted his toned body, black patent leather shoes and impeccably styled hair.

And he was staring - with his dark and deep black eyes - right back at her.

#bts #bts fanfic #purplearmynet #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bts jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook romance #dfdph #spotlight

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 3 years

Text

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Ch 9

Spotlight: A Life Of A Troubled Celebrity Heartthrob Chapter 9

Word Count: 3,432

We're going to skip the formalities Ashleigh," Colson strolled into the study and pushed Ashleigh's chair back, "Why did you you do it??"

"Colson I-" Ashleigh looked at him, frightened, "Slim said if I didn't do it then-it would have been me instead," she hung her head in shame.

"Hmm.." Colson held his chin and pretended to be in deep thought, "so you gave up Y/N instead..makes sense I guess," he shrugged.

"What?!" her head snapped up.

"Slim is a crackhead and is blazed half the time..what's your excuse for taking part in this Ashleigh," his eyes were fire and ice all at once.

"He threatened me-" she cried out.

"But you made conscious decision to help him f*ck my wife didn't you?!" Colson shot back, "you even spiked her drink with a double dose of the drug!" He shouted, "why did you do that? Huh?!"

"I was scared!" she said as the tears pooled her eyes,

"Ahhh..I see.." Colson stood up, " are you scared Ash?" Colson got up stared directly into her eyes.

"Y-e-ss.." she gulped and looked at the bodyguards that towered behind Colson.

"Good," Colson said with satisfaction, "it's good that you're afraid," he paced around her chair, "At least I've got the decency to plan this thing in front of you; and not behind your back like what you did to someone that considered you a friend," he stopped in front of her, "Now I'm going to get one of these guys to lock you in a tiny bathroom and have his way with you? How about that? Sound familiar?"

"Don't! Please! I'll do anything!" she fell at Colson's feet and grovelled.

"Guys can I have a volunteer to take this lovely lady into the restroom and do what ever you feel like with her? Actually I want you to go as far as Slim did with my wife..or further maybe? Rog? Andre? You're game?" Colson asked.

"Let me at her Col. I think I will do a good job than Rog over here," Andre motioned with his head.

"No, no, no. Please allow me Col? I will do a better job than Slim," Rog said smugly.

"Okay Rog you're our guy!" Colson patted Rog on the back, "don't worry Ashleigh I'll just turn a blind eye like you did and I hope, for your sake, there's someone that cares enough to come and knock the door down-like I did," Colson stepped away from her, "Hey don't forget to rough her up and spike her drink before-just like Slim did to my wife."

"Waaiiitt! Don't leave me! I'm sorry! Please! Slim made me do it-he-he threatened me," Ashleigh wailed.

"Why didn't you come to me?! You had a choice and you did the wrong thing Ashleigh! That makes you as bad as Slim!" Colson yelled at her, his blue eyes blazing. "By the way-enjoy your stay in prison," he informed her before he left the room.

"Take her away Rog and don't come out until she passes out just like Y/N," Jax looked down at her with disgust.

"Jax! Please don't do this!" she pleaded but Jax was having none of it.

"You saw it fit to do it to Y/N so why should I feel sorry for you? Take her away," Jax said.

"Noooo! Please!" Ashleigh screamed as Rog threw her over his shoulder; to carry out orders.

"How far do you want to take this Colson?" Jax asked as they walked to the car.

"As far as Slim took liberties on my wife," Colson replied tersely, "I want her to experience everything that Y/N went through. She should have a play by play version and we'll see how she feels being in the same shoes."

"So they're not going to actually...?" Jax raised his eyebrow.

"No! I gave them strict instructions not to take it that far," he reiterated.

"Okay," Jax opened the door for Colson and he jumped in.

"Please take me to the hospital? I need to check on Y/N before I lose my mind," Colson sighed heavily, "the doctor has assured me that he didn't..get very far."

"What a relief!" Jax sagged on the driver's seat.

"If he had-I was going to kill him with my bare hands," Colson clenched his fist.

"Not if I got to him first-with a bullet straight through his head," Jax said with conviction.

"I think we need to leave this place. Just me and Y/N," Colson said, "please make the arrangements?"

"Where are we going to this time?" Jax questioned, knowing he was part of the plan.

"Jamaica," Colson replied.

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

"Good morning baby," Colson sat on the hospital bed and held Y/N's hand. Her eyes fluttered open and she groaned.

"You told him," she snatched her hand out of his grasp and turned aside.

"What?!" Colson asked, confused.

"I told you something in confidence," she cleared her throat, "and you told Slim so he could use it against me," she sniffled.

"Sweets.." Colson jumped onto the bed and lay in front of her, "look at me? Please?" he held her face tenderly.

"I honestly have no idea what you're going on about" his blonde hair flopped over his eyes and he tossed it back, "can you at least fill in the blanks so that we can be on the same page?" he stared at her intently.

"He knew," she whispered, "he knew about Bobby," she dropped her gaze.

"Who's Bobby baby?" Colson asked gently.

"My ex," she gulped as she twisted her hands nervously.

"I didn't tell him anything about it sweets. I swear. Maybe he overheard me talking to Jax the other day..I wanted him to help find him so you wouldn't have to worry about him coming back-I didn't want it hanging over your head," Colson explained "plus you never really told me his name.."

"Oh," her eyes focused on chest.

"You like my t-shirt?" Colson joked.

"I've always found plain white t-shirts fascinating," she rolled her eyes.

"This isn't just any white t-shirt babe-it's an original Levi," Colson held out the hem of the t-shirt and grinned.

"I'm sorry for spoiling your night," Y/N apologized.

"Hey..don't do that," Colson held her chin up and gazed into her e/c orbs, "I should be the one apologizing actually. I was supposed to protect you but-"

"Can we not talk about this?" she frowned and looked away.

"Sure," there was an awkward silence. "I'll go and check with the doctor if he's done with your discharge papers," Colson hopped of the bed and left the room.

Y/N looked up the ceiling and sighed heavily. How did she end up in this situation for a second time? If Colson hadn't kicked down the door when he did then-she didn't even want to think about it. She would rather keep it buried in her emotional archives.

"Good morning!" Jax stood at the door with his hands in his pockets, "is there room for one more?" he smiled.

"Jax!" Y/N gave him a genuine smile, "come in!" Jax got to her in two strides and engulfed her in a bear hug.

"You okay kid?" he leaned back and examined her.

"Yeah," she grinned.

"Good. The doctor has given you the green light, you can go home" he nodded with satisfaction, "did your husband tell you that we're going on honeymoon?"

"No Jax," Colson cut in, "but you might as well tell her."

"Tell me what?" Y/N asked.

"We're going to the Caribbean baby," Jax smiled.

"What?! Really babe??" Y/N gushed and Colson nodded with a smile.

"Let's get out of here I need to pack."

***********************************

It was a beautiful day; the birds were singing, the sun was shining and all was alright in the world. For now at least.

Colson woke up early and went to take his usual swim. The beach was deserted as he walked towards the water, in his shorts and his towel slung over his shoulder. He loved to take an early morning swim as part of his workout routine because it helped him to think; and he had a lot of thinking to do this morning.

At the end of this week they were going back to reality and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. The press that constantly stalked him and pried into his private life unashamedly, his fake friends, the pressure of staying at the top and last but not least his dear mother in law. Mrs Y/M/F/N L/N had called him, breathing fire and threatening to castrate him as soon as his jet touched the ground of Cleveland. He would definitely chose dealing with the press over that any day.

While he understood that she had genuine concerns, Y/N was a grown woman and the only thing that mattered to him. The way he felt about her frightened him. After Dani he had promised to never fall in love again. Love was complicated, it was too intense and it made you vulnerable; but worst of all you could risk getting your heart broken. He had loved Dani more than was humanely possible-he could have done anything for her and he did, but after she slept with his best friend she did irreparable damage to his heart. He couldn't risk it again-and yet he found himself totally consumed by Y/N Y/L/N.

Her eyes captivated him and sent his heart spiraling to the ends of the unknown. When she laughed or smiled at him he felt like he could take on the world. Making love to her was an indescribable feeling..he couldn't put it into words even if he tried. She was always on his mind and he just wanted to be with her all the time. He was selfish when it came to her-he didn't want anyone else around when they were together; he wanted all her attention; all of her.

Colson swam back to the shore, his body was exhausted. He bent over and held onto his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Smile," Y/N said and as he looked up startled she took a pic with her iPhone.

"Hey sweets," his face broke into a smile and his heart skipped a beat.

"I could wake up to this every morning..some girls have all the luck," she sighed and took a few more pics of Colson in his swimming trunks, water dripping from his gorgeous body.

"You know what Bambi..I think you need to be in the pic as well-"Colson lunged at her and grabbed her, making her wet. She was dressed in a short floral caftan dress which did nothing to protect her.

"Baker!" she squealed, "you're making me wet!"

"Just what I love to hear sweets," he crushed her against his solid chest and their lips merged, melting into each other. He wove his fingers into her silky soft hair and she in turn slid her fingers into his wet hair.

Jax stood behind them clearing his throat and got their attention.

"Just on time Jax-please take a video and post it on Instagram asap okay?" Colson handed the phone to him.

"A video??," Y/N asked. Before she got a response Colson swooped her off her feet and threw over his shoulder. He ran back into the water amidst Y/N's screams and protests.

She landed in the water with a splash and Colson laughed at her as she spluttered in the water.

"Baker you are dead!!" she jumped onto his back and they both keeled over back into the water. Y/N tried to escape but he caught her foot and dragged her back in. They continued a full out make out session and would have taken it further if Jax hadn't reminded them that they were in a public area.

"That's enough you two!" Jax yelled, "breakfast is served, let's go."

"Let's get changed first. Come one," Colson put his arm around her shoulder as they walked back to the villa. They had a quick shower and dressed up before going for breakfast.

"Can't we go out somewhere for breakfast?" Y/N suggested, "We're in the Caribbean so we might as well take advantage of it."

"As mi 'lady wishes," Colson bowed.

"Baker!" Y/N swatted his arm.

"But I went all out and made breakfast for you two?" Jax grumbled.

"Sorry Jax. Guess we will have to stay and eat," Y/N said.

"Killjoy," Colson muttered under his breath.

"Don't worry babe, we can explore after breakfast," Y/N squeezed his arm.

"Ooh, I like the sound of that.." Colson murmured and leaned in to kiss her.

"Can we eat now?" Jax complained.

"I would rather eat what I'm looking at right now.." Colson continued to suck on Y/N's lips and she giggled.

"Gosh! I think I'm going to throw up," Jax rolled his eyes, "I'm going to eat at my villa. I'll leave you kids to it." He threw his napkin on the table and stood up.

"Hey Jax," Colson said, "You're officially off duty. We'll call you when we need you."

"Thank you!" Jax said with a sigh of relief, "at least I won't have to witness you two sucking face any longer."

"Makes two of us," Colson replied. They laughed as they watched him leave.

"You're not a nice person Baker," Y/N said as she nibbled on a piece of bacon.

"I know but I'm still yours," he tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Are you really?" she asked with uncertainty.

"Sweets-let's not do this? Please?" he raked his hair.

"So nothing has changed," she nodded and her gaze as she twisted her fingers nervously.

"I'm going for a walk!" Colson pushed back his chair and it screeched as he stood up.

"Fine!" Y/N shouted at his retreating back.

Y/N thought that things had changed. That somehow his feelings had changed and he was finally ready to admit that he loved her, that this was more than a casual fling, that they had passed the stage of testing the waters. She had hoped they had established their relationship on a solid foundation but his outburst had proved that they were still on ground zero.

Two steps forward. Two steps back.

**********************************

Y/N spent the day watching Netflix in the guest room at the villa. She had ordered room service because she didn't feel like cooking. She didn't feel like doing anything but wallowing in self-pity. Colson hadn't shown up for lunch or dinner and Y/N went into further depression. There was a fully stocked bar so she decided to take full advantage of it and drowned her sorrows.

She heard loud music coming from outside so she got dressed in her best outfit and headed out. There was no way she was going to sit at home while Colson was probably out there having a good time. She stumbled into a local club that seemed to be happening tonight and made a beeline to the bar.

"Can I have a cosmo?" she asked the barman and he nodded. She sipped on it slowly and watched the revelers grinding on each other; having a good time.

"Care to dance?" Colson came from behind and whispered in her ear.

"Get lost Baker," she retorted without swinging around.

"Look sweets, I'm sorry for walking out on you," he turned her around and he took her hands, "I shouldn't have done that-please forgive me?" he pouted.

"We can't make progress if that's what you going to do every time we have a fight," she said, "where have you been all day anyway?"

"I went scuba diving and surfing with Jax," he replied. "Can we just be Colson and Y/N tonight? For the rest of the week maybe?" he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, "No fighting, no arguing-no nothing-good vibes only. Just me and you enjoying each other's company? Can we do that baby?" he implored.

"Okay Baker. I'm sold," Y/N rolled her eyes and picked up her drink.

"I know we need to do grown up talk soon but can it be when we get back home?" he asked, "for now I just want to enjoy my honeymoon with my beautiful and sexy wife," he took her drink and gulped half of it down.

"Hey! Get your own," she slapped his arm. He ordered another round for them and then a couple of more. She was feeling light headed and her face was tingling. The alcohol had clearly kicked in and she could feel it.

"Let's go dance!" Colson pulled her to the dance floor.

"I don't even know how to dance to this music!" she shouted into his ear. She looked around her and all she could see was people gyrating on each other. If they didn't have any clothes on it would have been x-rated.

"There's nothing to it sweets. Just follow my lead," Colson started grinding against her and she followed suit.

They got lost in the moment as their bodies intertwined as they moved to the rhythm of the music. He turned her around and fitted her back into the contour of his body, his hands slowly gliding down her thighs. She weaved her hands in his hair and pressed her backside into him and he groaned into her ear.

"You're killing me Bambi," his lust filled voice whispered into her ear, sending chills down her spine. He gripped her hips tightly and sucked her earlobe and she gasped.

"I learnt from the best," she said breathlessly, as she continued to grind against him.

"Bathroom-now!" he growled.

"What?!" her eyeballs almost popped out. This was so hot but she had to be the voice of reason here. He grabbed her hand and led her to the ladies restrooms, "Colson-you can't be serious?!

"This is Jamaica sweets. We can't come here and not have hot, spontaneous sex in the bathroom," he slammed the door shut and made sure it was locked.

"What if we get caught?" she asked breathlessly, as he planted hot kisses on her neck.

"Too bad-they will just have to hear you screaming my name," he said in a husky voice, before he pushed her against the door and took her right there and then.

Welcome to Jamaica.

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

The rest of the night was a blur and just when Y/N thought she was ready to head home, Colson told her the night was only beginning.

"We've been invited to an after party at Sean Paul's and I have been trying forever to get a collabo with him. This is my chance," Colson said as they jumped into the limo.

"Can you maybe drop me off at home? I'm totally wasted," Y/N groaned and leaned back on the leather seat.

"Not a chance sweets," Colson leaned in and kissed her until she was breathless, "better?" he asked with a smile.

"Hmmm," was all Y/N could day.

"We won't stay long. Promise," he assured her but they both knew it was a lie.

Colson kept her entertained throughout the night and never left her side. They danced, talked, drank and danced some more. Finally she couldn't stand on her feet any more so they went to sit down again. The people at their table were smoking a joint an passing it around and Colson pulled on it a couple of times before passing it to Y/N.

"No way!" she pushed his hand away.

"Don't tell me you've never smoked weed sweets?" he looked genuinely shocked.

"Never..not interested," she slurred, "I don't smoke."

"This is different. Besides-we're in Jamaica sweets. You can't be here and not experience this," he looked at the joint like it was gold, "come on just try it. Just one drag," he coaxed and his new found friends cheered her on.

"Okay, okay" she relented. Against her better judgement she took it and smoked it until she choked on the smoke.

"Yeah!" everyone cheered for her.

"Well done Bambi," Colson chuckled and rubbed her back.

To this day Y/N couldn't remember how she got home that night.

Colson teased her about it the next day. Apparently she danced on the table and almost did a strip show but he had stopped her just in time. He even got a lap dance.

"You're a bad influence Baker," she groaned and went back to sleep.

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker x reader #colson baker imagine #fan fiction

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sheabuttahwrites · 3 years

Text

[ I Know ]

. one : truth hurts...

abstract & introduction

**tw // Domestic Abuse

“You don't hear me talking to you?” he yelled menacingly, demanding an explanation.

My brain immediately scattered and I gasped for air as he shifted his hips, snatching himself out of me. “Baby... wh—what are you talking about?”

“Jade, you know what I'm talking about. You called me some other nigga’s name!”

I opened my mouth preparing to speak, yet, again, words were beyond me. Out of pure desperation, I closed my eyes, hoping that it was all just a terrible dream. But it wasn't. Sure enough, he was still right there in my face waiting for answers... that I did not have. I had called him Omari's name and I couldn't deny it.

But that doesn't mean I wasn't about to try.

“Cam, I didn't. You're hearing things.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he began to shake his head. “Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not lying.”

He pushed himself up, hovering over me, and I watched his jaw tighten as he shut his eyes and took the deepest breath. He always did this whenever he was upset, but I don’t know why. It never actually helped calm him down. “What the fu—are you serious? I know what I heard. You think I’m stupid?”

“No,” I promptly corrected, leaving no room for assumptions. “But I didn't say someone else’s name, Cam. Why would I do that?”

He completely ignored me and left the bed, starting toward his clothes piled down by the foot. “...Yo, get up. I got something for your ass.”

At the sound of those words, I froze, paralyzed with fear. I already knew what he had for me, and I did not want it. I closed my eyes once again and filled my lungs, trying to figure a way out of this mess. I had seconds to save myself. I was in need of a literal miracle, therefore I could only take it to God. I prayed so hard, but nothing useful came to me, causing reality to set in. I had one choice, tell the truth or continue with the lie. “Cam…”

“Lying and fucking cheating? You know I don't play that shit,” he ranted, failing to even notice that I had just called his name.

“I'm not cheating on you, I swear,” I tried my best to reassure him. “I would never lie to you, baby.”

He turned to me and his glare cut into me like knives. “Bitch, I said get up.”

Tears pooled in my eyes as I slowly sat up and placed my feet to the floor. There was no way I was gonna change his mind. I was kidding myself ever thinking that I could.

He threw his t-shirt on and I reached down for my clothes as well, in hopes of curing at least a little bit of my vulnerability. “What you doing? I don't remember telling you to put shit back on.”

I swiftly opened my hand and let the shorts and cami fall back onto the carpet. “I'm sorry.”

“That means nothing,” he declared, walking over to me. All of those tears came crashing down; I was so scared. “You already know that shit don't faze me, Jay.”

“Cam, I love you! I'm not seeing anybody else! I don't even want anybody else! It's just you and me, baby. That's it,” I pled, but he ignored my defenses and raised his hand to me. Before I could even blink, it had landed on my tearstained face. I screamed as my neck violently twisted in the direction of his slap.

“Keep fucking lying!”

His volume had increased to new heights, and so did mine. “I'm not!”

Once I'd come to my senses, it was too late. I stared up into his eyes, so regretful for raising my voice, and he was looking back at me like I had lost my damn mind. It wasn’t my intent to be shouting at him, making shit worse for myself, but it was truly the pain talking. My skin was on fire. Within seconds, the same hand he had just smacked me with flew up around my neck. I instantly took hold of his wrist with both hands, shocked out of my mind. He had never gone this far before.

“Who the fuck you think you talking to? Huh?” He was standing right in my face. His tone was low, but still so intense. “Don’t you ever raise your voice at me. You hear me?” Terrified, I nodded to the best of my ability. “I can't fucking believe you! Everything I do for you, for us! I leave here for months at a time, working my ass off so your spoiled ass can have everything you want, and this is what I get in return?! You fucking around on me?” He looked so demented, watching me with narrowed eyes while I struggled to breathe and get him off of me. “You can't keep your fucking legs closed while I'm gone?” he questioned through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on my throat. My eyes doubled in size as tears continued to pour from them. I let him go and swatted at his hand crazily, my body begging for oxygen. I was beginning to panic. I never would've thought he’d have me in a situation afraid for my life. “What I tell you?! This shit is mine, you hear me? You are mine!”

“Cam... I can... can't bre...!” I honestly wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. I had only made a careless, stupid mistake and, damn, was I sorry. “Cam, please,” I mouthed to him. The edges of the room were starting to go dark.

“‘Please’ what? With your trifling ass!”

He slung my neck from his clutches and turned away in total disgust. I dropped to the floor, coughing and wheezing, trying to regulate my breathing. Foolishly thinking it was over, I put all of my attention on regaining some composure. I had to calm down. Losing the ability to breathe had always been a huge fear for me, and I didn't want to go into an anxiety attack. I had my hand on my chest, attempting to coax myself into taking deeper breaths, when I felt him grab the bun I had thrown to the top of my head.

“Get your hoe ass up!”

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, just above a whisper. I knew I was wasting my time, but I still had to try. Maybe he would realize what he was doing and feel something for me past the rage. And cut me some damn slack. I felt like I was about to pass out.

But he refused to let up, yanking me by the hair. I shrieked in pain. “Shut your damn mouth! Don't let me have to tell you again.”

I went against his wishes and continued to try and plead with him. It was my only option. I couldn’t be quiet and I was always too fearful to fight back. I just wasn't ready for the type of trouble that hitting him would for sure bring. His temper had become outrageous and he was so much taller and stronger than me. And, anyway, I somehow managed to piss him off just fine without having to touch him first. I started to feel the burden of his strength as my body began to slide across the floor. I threw my hand up to my head, kicking and screaming, hoping my actions would convince him to release me. I quickly accepted that it wouldn’t be so simple, so I just toughed it out until I was in the doorway. As soon as I saw my chance, I reached out and grabbed onto it with both hands, holding on for dear life.

“Cameron, no! Please don't do this to me! I'm so sorry! Just let me up so we can talk, please,” I shouted in one breath.

“Shut the fuck up! And let the door go!”

Again, I didn't follow his orders; which caused me instant regret. He snatched my hair so hard that I knew some of it had been ripped from my scalp. “Aaaaah, Caaaaam,” I wailed, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to tug my locks away from him. “Stooooop!”

“Let it go,” he roared. Then he bent down and pried my fingers from the moulding. He lugged me out into the hallway and I started to reach for the walls, railing, tables, vases, anything I could attach myself to. But attempting to grip things with only one hand proved impossible. I was knocking shit over and it was falling everywhere, tears were flying from my eyes, the hurt in my voice was undeniable and he didn't give a single fuck. His only care was getting me to his desired destination.

I was somewhat relieved when I saw that he wasn't going for the stairs, but it was no time to celebrate. The carpet was burning the hell out of my hips. Time seemed to lag behind, as those were the longest seconds of my life, being violated by something that was usually so soft and gentle to me. Cam, on the other hand, I was used to.

After what had felt like forever, he finally brought the torture to an end in the upstairs media room about thirty-five feet away from where we’d started. And, without a pause, he picked me up and tossed my naked body onto the couch.

“Don't move.”

I was so winded and trembling horribly, but I decided to do as told and remained as still as possible. He started to walk up on me and I just closed my eyes, sure I wasn't doing well enough for him. Terrified of what might've been coming next, I pulled my knees up to my chest and put my face down.

“I'm not cheating on you, baby, I promise. I wouldn't do that to us.” I peeked up at him and hated how familiar this was. I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore and say I didn’t recognize the person standing before me, but he was still so different from the guy I had met and fallen for all those years ago. This version of him just didn't give a fuck. I could easily see that he had absolutely no remorse for what he was doing to me; or all he had done before today for that matter. But, embarrassingly enough, that didn't change the fact that some variation of him still had my heart. “You gotta believe me, Cam. I love you.”

Something I said must’ve been the last straw, because he balled his fist and punched me in the face. Hard! The force even knocked me over. I screamed out, grabbing a hold of my jaw. His blow had made my teeth puncture the inside of my mouth.

“Do you not understand ‘shut the fuck up’?! It means close your damn mouth,” he yelled, answering himself. “Stop fucking talking! Just shut the fuck up!”

There was no more fight left in me. I was in agony. The inside of my cheek stung and I could taste the blood as I checked for broken teeth, my neck was sore from battling against his hand, I could feel about three separate areas where I was sure I had no skin, my head hurt where my hair had been so forcefully pulled, my hands were beat up by the things that had denied my grasp, my anxiety was in overdrive, and one side of my face throbbed as it tried to recover from a slap and a punch. I was done trying to convince him of anything. He was free to think whatever he wanted.

“And you tell that nigga I'm coming for his ass next, ‘cause I'ma find out who the fuck he is! I swear, you got me so fucked up right now,” he huffed, pacing the floor and massaging his temples. “I don't want your dirty ass in my bed either, so get comfortable. And don't move.” His voice was calm, but, the way he eyed me, I knew not to get up. “When I get back in here, you better be in this same spot. Think I'm fucking playing.”

After his threatening lecture, he turned away and started to leave the room.

“Cam,” I reluctantly called, in a whisper. Blood was filling my mouth and I needed to spit badly. I needed my clothes, too.

“You ain't had enough,” he asked, coming toward me at a pace that caused my already high level of distress to rise. I put my hands out, in hopes that he wouldn't start up again. I knew I wouldn't be able to take much more.

“Yes, yes! I just want some clothes and I need to go spit,” I exclaimed in one hurried breath. Thank God, he stopped and kept his hands to himself.

“I want you naked. And swallow that shit.”

I frowned at his response. “But I can't swallow all this,” I gently opposed, tilting my head back to try and prevent it from spilling out as I spoke.

“Swallow it... or you'll be picking up your fucking teeth.”

Pure shock took over my expression. I couldn't fathom that this was actually happening to me. At his hand. The man I loved, who I thought loved me. I didn't even know what to do with myself anymore. I just felt drained. Dealing with him had become exhausting for me, in every sense of the word. And things weren't getting any better. Instead, he was getting worse.

New tears formed in my eyes as I fought to rid my mouth of the most foul tasting shit I had ever experienced. They quickly ran down to my chin where they dripped steadily onto my lap. Once I had succeeded, I looked up at him, longing for something--anything--and his face gave me nothing. At that point, all hope was lost. I turned my back to him, curling up and comforting myself, because I knew his ass wouldn't. And he just walked away.

As if it wasn't me who had stood by his side, rooting for him, when his ass had nothing; me who overlooked all of the bullshit he dished almost daily; me who had been nothing but good to him, done nothing but loved and trusted him; me who had gotten the abortion because he said he wasn't ready to be a father; and me who cooked for him, cleaned for him, did any and everything for him. Taking better care of him than I was myself. With no ring on my finger. That shit hurt more than any blow to the body could ever. That was a fucking blow to my heart!

All I could do was lie there in the dark, giving in to the desolation, weeping silently and praying things would turn around the way I always did. I ended up crying myself to sleep.

#original fiction #original characters #black characters #black writer #romance #drama #oc #love story #i know #SheaButtahWrites

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jimlingss · 5 years

Text

The President’s Son [10]

Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 10.5 OR Chapter 11

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

Siren wails and deafening ambulance howls — putting arms over heads and getting to your knees — handcuffs clinking as your hands are restrained. You’re bathed in blue and red lights, eyes wearily blinking as your vision is blinded. Camera clicks — microphones shoved into his cheeks — questions spewed one after another, morphing to sound like the tortured in hell. Taehyung shields himself away from the white flashes as he’s forced to stand by his father’s side. Fear runs rampant, only partially subdued with a single press conference, tabloids and media outlets gathering as they try to figure out what happened, calling upon the police chief, your father, and Taehyung’s. Those responsible are taken into custody, under investigation, while another team tries to contain public hysteria from spiraling. “I’m sorry I snitched,” Jungkook tells you. “I didn’t want to.” “It’s okay,” you murmur as you stand at the back of the room, watching the President take a stand against terrorism. “You brought me backup when I needed it.” But just because everything’s said and done and everyone’s safe doesn’t mean there aren’t any repercussions. It’s the end of the line. From across the room, you stare at Taehyung intently, how disheveled and tired he looks, the spark in his eyes lost, knowing this is unfortunately the last. And you’ll accept it. When tomorrow arrives, you’ll go looking for other jobs to take on, accept whoever might want your selected skill set. There’s nothing to do but take responsibility for your actions and the damage done. But you don’t know why it feels so hard. Your whole life has revolved around indifference, acceptance, letting things roll off your shoulder and continuously moving forward. But for the first time, your feet feel too grounded to keep moving. “Come in.” You push the door, closing it gently behind you. His office remains ever the same, except for the new piles of papers placed all over his desk. The old man sighs, taking off his reading classes and rubs two fingers at his temple while you take a seat across from him. It’s more frightening when he isn’t outright angry. He begins, words heavy with exhaustion. “Did you think about what you were going to do?” “Yes,” you answer after a beat. “I knew it was going to take a long time—” “So you ignored all the plans that were being made? You ignored standard protocol and my authority as well as everyone else’s?” He asks you calmly, composed without a bite to his words, almost like he expected this. “I wanted to scope out the environment to provide more details.” “That’s out of the scope of your job. You went above and beyond. And you did so irresponsibly. To the point where it’s outrageous. You could’ve gotten killed. You could’ve gotten the President’s son killed.” “I’m sorry.” The apology doesn’t cut it, but it’s all you can offer. “I...saw a chance and I took it.” “You’re lucky that no one got more hurt than they did.” The old man sighs, leaning back in his swivel chair as he shuffles papers in front of him. “I’ll write you a recommendation letter before you go.” “There’s no need.” He raises a brow and halts his movements completely. After a second, he glances up at you again. This time, he speaks in a softer tone, not as a chief, but as your father. “Are you planning to stay in the capital?” “I...don’t know yet.” You came for a reason and yet you’ve done nothing for that reason — it’s still too difficult to approach, too awkward. You’re not sure where to begin or what to do. Your initial intentions have washed down the drain. “Let me write you a letter,” he insists. After all, despite recent incidents, the past three months have passed by without any qualms. It was the first time there was some semblance of peace and quiet. “It’ll help you in whatever you want to do next.” “What letter?” He’s interjected by a chiming timbre. The lithe woman shuts the door behind her before sauntering up to the desk, right beside you. Her arms are crossed, dark hair draping her backside, dark circles showing her fatigue, yet she doesn’t show any weaknesses. “You’re not going to write any letter, ____.” “Hyunjung...this is a decision that’s been in the making for a long time.” Taehyung’s stepmother is outright challenged, but she stands her ground, shaking her head, not amused whatsoever. “I know I have no part in this, but it’s my job to protect my son’s protector.” Her voice moves into a higher pitched, almost like a whine of disbelief. “I came here to get on my knees to personally thank Y/N and lo and behold, I find you not only reprimanding her but firing her? I won’t have it.” Your father lightly scoffs, looking away. “She isn’t suitable for this job…” “Then who is?” The middle-aged female asks, demanding an answer he can’t give. “She risked her own life to save Taehyung. We should be honouring that bravery. I expected you to promote her, y’know! Give her a better title! Give her a raise or a vacation!” Her rambling is childish and lighthearted, dissipating the tension in the room. While she’s not biologically related to Taehyung, she shares striking similarities to him. You’re not surprised that she suits the President well. “Or even put up a statue of her in the yard! I thought I would have to fight you against naming Taehyung’s firstborn Y/N!” “I acted irresponsibly,” you speak up, looking towards her. “I’ll accept whatever punishment—” “Tch.” She clicks her tongue in annoyance, shushing you harshly. She frowns in disapproval with her reddened lips pouty. “I’m trying to defend you. Don’t make it worse, young lady.” Taehyung’s stepmother turns to face the chief. “Look at what you did to the poor girl! She should be proud of her courage, but you made her feel ashamed. Have you ever praised her before? Or do you just criticize your best employee all the time?” There’s a long silence. The tables have turned. Now he’s the one being reprimanded and scolded. But he doesn’t protest or fight her on it, perhaps giving into the woman’s judgment. “Unbelievable,” she scoffs. “You are about to fire one of the nicest people of your entire team. Absolutely unbelievable. Come on, Y/N. Follow me. You don’t have to sit here any more and listen to this ridiculousness.” You turn to your father after looking at her. His expression is impassive, but you read it well enough. There’s no real anger. At best, he feels at a loss. You deliberate what to do, but the woman doesn’t give you a chance. She urges you one last time, heavily insistent, so you take her hand and she pulls you to your feet. “If you want to fire her, you’ll have to speak to me about it first.” She struts out, tugging you along and you look back to catch your father sighing, molded into his chair, head knocked back to stare at the ceiling. He can’t get rid of you even if he wanted to. Somehow, you’re protected by everyone that has the last name Kim. “You really didn’t need to….” “Hush, child.” She spins around, hands securing on your shoulders comfortingly. “I owe you my life. Taehyung owes you his life, okay? I’ll make sure he knows that too, but I think he already does. Don’t get too bothered by your old man. He was probably just worried about how you risked yourself out there.” Somehow you doubt that. Then again, even while growing up he had an odd way of showing his affection. “Which I don’t approve of either, but what’s done is done and all I can say is thank you. Truly.” “I was….just doing my job.” “You weren’t.” She smiles softly. “And you know that.” Taehyung’s stepmother tells you how you not only saved a life, but a family and a country from being thrown into chaos. While it’s a bit much, she emphasizes that you’re a hero. Your name was never disclosed to the public, but they know an agent single-handedly saved the President’s son and the public opinion has improved in the Presidential Security Service. The recognition is overwhelming and not something you ever intended, but not something you particularly despise. “If there’s anything that you ever need, tell me, okay? Remember to take care of yourself too. I understand if you want to take a break and rest up after all that. It must’ve been traumatizing. I’ll let your father know if you want to take a vacation….” You fiddle with your fingers. “Actually, I was wondering where Taehyung was.” For the most part, you were fine and if anything, you were more curious on how he was handling it all. The woman gently smiles again. “He’s at this hospital right now.” “Can I visit him?” “You most certainly can.” // He is a prisoner. And he doesn’t understand why he’s being punished. Kim Taehyung crosses his arms and pouts like a petulant child, sitting on the edge of the bed. He would’ve personally ripped out the IVs in his arms, but he doesn’t do needles, so he had wailed painfully until the nurse came and took it out for him. “Get me out of here!” he screams at the top of his lungs. The white walls and maybe the shadow outside hears his plea. “I’m more traumatized from being in here!” He’s been under intensive questioning, assessed both physically and mentally, forced to speak to three different therapists. Taehyung’s not as scarred as they think he is. He doesn’t need any recovery when there was nothing to recover from. He was perfectly fine, especially considering when deep down he knew you’d come for him. There was nothing to be afraid of. You always end up showing up again. He just has to wait. A few minutes….a few hours….or a few years. You always come back. But at the moment he’s too impatient. Enough is enough. Taehyung jumps to his feet and marches to the door, sliding it open. Park Jimin blocks his way. “Taehyung,” he whines his name, reluctant and timid with every movement. “You’re not allowed to leave.” “Just let me go!” he demands in exasperation. The dark-haired bodyguard is at a loss, trying to get the other to sympathize with his situation. “I…..I’ll get in trouble.” “No one has to know….” The two of them are whispering as if someone can hear, lingering in between the room and the corridor. The gates to freedom are so close, yet too far. “But they’ll find out. I’m sorry, Taehyung. I was given specific duties. You know that. I’m not allowed…..I can’t go against them.” There’s a held silence. Taehyung isn’t amused whatsoever and he narrows his eyes, words full of spite. “You know….you’re unbearable sometimes.” “Yeah….” Jimin’s head slumps like he knows, lips pulling to the floor. “I’m sorry.” “What...are you doing?” You’re standing at the end of the white hallway lit by fluorescent lights. Both Jimin and Taehyung whip their heads over, the former taking a sigh of relief at the sight of you and the latter with a grin expanding into his cheeks. “Fuck! About time, dumbo! Where were you?! I’ve been trapped for five hours!” You approach with crossed arms, peeking inside the room momentarily. Of course he has his own private hospital room on the highest floor of the entire building. But you notice that the bed sheets are crumpled, chair pushed over haphazardly, tissue box on the floor — evidence that he threw one hell of a tantrum. You give him an incredulous look. He smiles, suddenly on his best behaviour. “Are you gonna come in?” Jimin looks at you like you’re his saviour. The door shuts, finally just you and him. “Are you okay?” Your eyes sweep up and down his figure. He’d make a joke about your staring, but he’s too irritated by the question. “Yes, I’m fine,” he groans. “People keep asking me that. I’m not traumatized, okay? I don’t need any sort of recovery. I wasn’t injured. I’m not shocked or anything. I’m breathing, normal, alive.” “You were kidnapped, Taehyung.” “For like...two hours,” he points outs. “And they didn’t even do anything to me. I was going to talk my way out of it anyways. You don’t have to be so worried. I’m more worried about you.” He tugs on the hem of your jacket, pulling you gently until you give in, falling into the spot by his side. The mattress dips under your weight. “Doesn’t your wrist hurt?” At the mention of it, your own hand circles your other wrist, rolling it around once without feeling any aches or pains. “It healed weeks ago.” “Yeah….well….I was just...worried.” He gazes at you through his lashes. The soft lighting makes the edges of him glow. His voice is also strangely husky around the edges. You’re uncomfortable with how intimate it is. “You shouldn’t be. I’m used to it.” He scoffs lightly. “You always like to act like you’re tough — you know it’s okay if you aren't, right? It doesn’t mean you’re weak.” It’s quiet, the words sinking in. “Even if you’ve experienced worse things, it doesn’t make this one any less dangerous or scary.” You swallow hard, tearing your eyes away from him to stare at the door instead. “I’m sorry.” The corner of his mouth curls. “What for?” “I was supposed to protect you and I let that happen to you.” “You saved me, you idiot.” “I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first place. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight and I’m-….I’m….nervous,” you admit in a murmur and you hate it. You absolutely detest being this vulnerable when you’ve sworn to trample any signs of weakness. It goes against every cell in your body, but it’s the truth — a truth that you don’t want to shoulder alone. “I’m nervous it’s going to happen again. I keep getting startled at the smallest things. I don’t...think that’s normal.” “It’s okay.” His arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly hug. You don’t jump on instinct or lean back as you usually would. You allow yourself to relax into his hold, leaning against his chest, letting him close the distance between you two. It’s nice having this sort of comfort — you’re not sure when the last time you were hugged. “It’s okay if that happens. It’s okay to be nervous or scared.” But even so, it goes against everything you’ve been taught at a young age. “Aren’t you scared?” you murmur the question and had he not been so close, he would’ve missed it entirely. “A little,” Taehyung admits too. “It kind of felt surreal when it happened….my adrenaline was pumping. I think my survival instincts kicked in — I was talking a lot to them. But I don’t remember exactly what I said or what happened….it was kind of an out-of-body experience...you know?” “Yeah. I get that.” Taehyung smiles and pats your backside once. It’s the first time he’s comforting you and it’s odd considering when that was your job when he always cried as a kid. Granted, you never did a good job — having looked down at him while telling him to get up again and that tripping wasn’t going to kill him. It always made Taehyung cry harder. “You were so cool,” he hums like it even means anything. “When you untied yourself and stole the gun….I keep thinking your talent is wasted on me. You should be a spy or something. You’d be good at it.” “I’ve already done my part,” you tell him. “I wanted to go home.” He hums another soothing note from deep inside his chest and you hear how his heart rate quickens in pace. You finally pull yourself away before it gets too weird. He’s reluctant to let go, but does so anyhow while you compose yourself with a deep breath. “Hey…” Taehyung pipes up, staring at you with those intense eyes again. “If you ever wanna talk to me about something, you should. Don’t keep it inside.” “Yeah, okay.” “Or talk to a doctor,” he suggests with a smile. “They’re probably more qualified than I am.” Taehyung hops up to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, trying to act all casual after the heart-to-heart conversation. He groans, getting the kinks out of his shoulders before spinning around with a mischievous expression. “Should we ditch?” “You’re supposed to stay here for the night.” He pouts childishly, bottom lip jutted out when he doesn’t get his way. “I don’t wanna. They already poked me with a whole bunch of stuff and asked me a million questions. It’s suffocating being in here.” “What if—” “What if nothing. Nothing’s going to happen.” He shrugs. “You and I both know that. The entire city is on high alert and the perpetrators are already caught. No one’s gonna kidnap the President’s son twice in one night. And you’re off duty, aren’t you?” Taehyung’s eyes sweep you from head to toe, brow quirked at your casual attire as he discreetly smirks. “It’s not like you’d get in trouble if we hang out after your working hours.” “Me being off duty might be permanent at this rate.” He’s alarmed at your remark. “You’re getting fired?!” “No. Your stepmom saved me from that.” “She did?” You nod, much to his surprise. “She saved me, but I’ve been thinking about things and….maybe I should resign, Taehyung. I’ve caused a lot of issues and I don’t want to give...chief a headache. I want to be treated like everyone else and if I was, I think I would’ve been removed a long time ago.” The last thing you want is to be a burden and you don’t want to be saved anymore, to cheat the system for self-preservation when you’d rather accept responsibility. “If it were anyone else, they would’ve been at the podium at the press conference,” he says. “If it were anyone else, they would’ve gotten a metal. Your dad’s just really harsh on you to a point where I don’t even understand and it upsets me.” You look up at him, exhaling. Taehyung’s tone softens, eyes saddened. “Can I make a selfish request, Y/N?” “Depends on what it is.” “I know I said you’re better off somewhere else...but still...I want you to stay. Not forever. But just a little longer,” he asks and it’s shy and earnest. Taehyung’s hand drops to his side awkwardly after brushing back the blonde strands of his hair. He musters an embarrassed laugh. “Honestly, you’re my only friend and probably the biggest reason I haven’t run off yet.” You don’t get it. You’ve done nothing for him. You don’t even openly offer him the friendship that he so desperately desires — you can’t comprehend why you’re the reason he stays. “What’s so special about me?” “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “A lot of things. It’s not because we grew up together. Maybe a little has to do with that. But you just make it a lot more….bearable for me. I look forward to seeing you. Every day.” He’s ashamed, cheeks glowing pink, looking away. It’s the first time he’s shown you something aside from outright boldness. You muse that it’s a night of firsts and you savour the glimpse of sincerity that you see. “I don’t want to make this weird, alright, dumbo? And I’m not saying I like you like that. I just know that you listen to me and that you’re loyal. This might be a job to you and you probably think I’m annoying as hell on most days or that I’m a spoiled brat, but I know you actually give a fuck about me. You care. Unlike a lot of other people. And it’s all I...wanted. I like your company. And if you’re gone, I wouldn’t know what to do.” You stare. It’s another first — the first time you’re really seeing him. Taehyung’s not just a troublemaking boy who’s caused you a lot of your childhood gripes and headaches. There’s someone deeper in front of you, someone that’s not a chore or purposely a nuisance, someone human. You stand to your feet. “So...where are we going?” Taehyung grins. “I’ll lead the way.” Jimin is surprised to see the both of you exiting, insisting that he shouldn’t leave when it goes against the rules he was specifically instructed by Seokjin. But Jimin gives in when you convince him otherwise, easily giving up when it’s two pinned against one. He follows behind, ducking away into the stairwell when the police walk past. There are more guards lingering around the halls in case something suspicious were to happen. But luckily, Jimin takes one for the team and diverts their attention while the pair of you slip away. “For the record though, I don’t think you’re an annoying, spoiled brat.” “Really?” Taehyung chirps, turning his head as you walk down the street. Without bodyguards, suits, camera flashes, you’re just normal people. No one would notice that he’s a descendant of one of the most important people in the country. “Only sometimes.” Taehyung melts into another grin, curiosity making his irises glimmer. “Like when?” “When you give the bodyguards hell when I’m gone and you demand I come back.” “It’s a great strategy that has proven to work.” He winks and you scoff. “I’m not a toy, alright? “You’re not. But if you were, you’d be my favourite.” Your eyes roll, not taking it as a compliment and certainly not impressed by the lame pick-up line. “I think you know deep down how childish you are.” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s fun. Why not? Life’s too short to take seriously. You should take that advice for yourself, dumbo. I remember when you were just a wee-child—” “I’m a year older than you—” you interject. He outright ignores you. “—and you wouldn’t even join the kids on the playground. You were reading an instruction manual your dad told you to read and he only gave you that to get you to go away when he was doing work.” You can’t recall the memory, surprised that he does. But based on what you hear, you don’t really want to remember it. “Where are we going exactly, Taehyung?” There’s a sparkle in his eye that makes you want to sigh. “Go-kart racing. Ever been?” “No. And no. Do you even have a driver’s license?” The question is answered when he pulls it out for the teenager who’s working at the center. Your worries are at least eased somewhat when you see him get strapped in with a hard helmet and a proper seat belt. You’d sit beside him just in case something goes wrong, but he told you to get your own kart and wouldn’t give it up. It’s a terribly immature and childish game, but with Taehyung’s excitement, you let loose, allowing yourself to enjoy it. Even if it’s just for a second. The music blares above you. There’s two other adults here at this ungodly hour to enjoy their own fun, but Taehyung’s the loudest and most obnoxious person in the building. He hollers, firing up the atmosphere and his energy is infectious. The boy also ignites your competitive spirit after egging you on and you end up racing against each other. Taehyung turns around often to mock you, sticking out his tongue, and he swears when you overtake him. You start to laugh when he switches strategies and tries to crash into you, doing anything possible as long as you don’t win first place. “Hey! Excuse me!” The teenager is shouting at the rails. “You’re not supposed to crash into each other! This isn’t bumper cars!” “Sorry!” Taehyung yells back, but he’s not in fact sorry when he tries it again. In the moment, you’re reminded of something that you let slip through your mind. He’s not the President. He’s the President’s son. But even then, he’s just a guy — Kim Taehyung, who enjoys simple things, who doesn’t want anything to do with the limelight, who’d rather stay out of the spotlight and in the audience, sitting next to you. “Hey, dumbo!” “What?!” You scream, the roar of the motors and noise of the music too deafening. “I can’t hear you!” “Thank you!” “What?” While you can’t hear him, he screams it again. With all the sincerity he can muster. “Thank you!” Taehyung slams the gas pedal, going as fast as he can to let the wind blow into his clouding eyes, hoping it can dry them up before he starts to cry. Truth be told, Taehyung remembers everything. He remembers every word he said, every little action they did, down to the odor of the abandoned warehouse. More importantly, he remembers you appearing in front of him, staring at him, standing in front of him, extending an arm to help him stand again when he was going out of his mind, scared beyond belief. And he can still remember how his arm wrapped around your shoulders, how you leaned into his tender touch, how his own pulse mysteriously skipped a beat. It’s all still fresh in his mind. But he wishes it lasted longer.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung scenario #taehyung fluff #half way through the series!#finally like goddamn

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somedayonbroadway · 4 years

Note

about the newsies idea you said i would actually die if you did that but like in the good way- 😂

I am assuming you meant the one with Jack and Race being kidnapped. So... I wrote the scene I was talking about.

Sorry to ignore the 30 some asks I have and skip over to this one, but it was in my brain so I had to write it 😁.

TW: Blood, kidnapping, manipulation, abuse, torture

Silence had never been something that Race liked. In fact, it wouldn’t be wrong to say it was something that the boy tried to avoid. Jack used to tell him that it didn’t mean there was something wrong with him, despite what others may have told him growing up.

Now the silence was what the child preferred to the only alternatives that would be set in place.

He couldn’t listen to Jack screaming anymore.

There were chains around the child’s wrists, holding his arms behind the pole that he had been forced to sit back against, leaving him defenseless.

That wasn’t what scared him. Nor was it the horrid, intense visuals of the tools and weapons and cages that surrounded them. No. What scared him was his big brother. It was the way the young man was lying, sprawled out on the cold, unforgiving ground, where his blood was pooling from various different wounds that had been caused by Race’s own hands.

The boy let another tear trail down his cheek as bile rose up in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as the images flashed across his mind all over again. He swallowed hard, reminding himself to breathe as he blinked his one good eye open once again, watching his brother, trying desperately not to start sobbing again. He knew how much Jack hated it when he cried. It always broke the man’s heart.

He tried to calm himself by watching Jack’s chest rise and fall, no matter how shakily or unevenly it did. The man lay on his side, one arm stretched above his head and the other weakly clutching around his ribs that were turning too many different, awful colors. His face was battered, practically unrecognizable. Race tried to be grateful that his big brother wasn’t forced to stand anymore. But he knew Jack was still uncomfortable, and the chain around his ankle did nothing to help that.

The man had his eyes closed. He looked like he was intently focused on breathing. Race watched in horror as his guardian coughed, a slow, red substance slipping from his bruised, blistered lips. Jack’s forest green eyes fluttered open for just a split second before the slipped closed again. The boy prayed to any higher being that would listen to just ease the man’s pain. Jack had tried to pretend at first. He’d tried to convince himself and his little brother that it wasn’t so bad. That it barely hurt. The act was gone now.

Guilt ate at Race when he found himself wishing for the act to come back. For Jack to just pretend. He knew Jack couldn’t anymore. It was all too much.

Footsteps were heard making their way down the hallway that must’ve been just beyond the rooms only exit. Race tensed. His blue eyes widened as he looked down to his brother who tensed at the sound. “J… Jackie... I can’t do it… n-not again…” he breathed, only half expecting the man to answer.

His big brother took as deep a breath as he could and choked softly, trying to shake himself awake. “Five m’re m’nuz…” Jack ended up slurring. Race whimpered, sniffling to try and stop himself from making anymore noise.

His brother… his tough as nails, strong as hell, highly trained, experienced big brother was almost completely delirious. “Jack—“ the boy tried to call again.

But the door opened, and he cut himself off, pulling his knees close to his chest as the man in the mask calmly closed and locked the door behind him. The boy’s lip quivered as the man walked into the room, a key in his hand as he casually strolled passed the young detective still lying on the ground. Race held his breath as the man paused above Jack’s head. The masked man gently kicked at Jack’s shoulder.

Jack coughed and groaned as he was forced onto his back. He back which still had exposed, unattended wounds that were steadily bleeding.

Race felt his throat tighten. “Pl-ease… please let us go…” he begged, so unsure and frightened. His brother had known how to get to this man. But Race hadn’t the slightest clue how to seem unphased with his protector looking so vulnerable.

The stranger cocked his head to the side. And Race regretted speaking in the first place as his captor walked over to him.

It seemed to get Jack’s attention.

“D-don’t…” he managed to croak as the man knelt down to Race’s level, reaching into his pocket and revealing a small pocket knife, flicking it open. The boy’s crystal eyes widened as he pressed himself even further into the metal poll behind him.

The boy squeezed his eyes shut when the knife was directed at his chest, slowly trailing up his skin.

Jack could hear his brother’s breaths speeding up. And he forced himself onto his stomach, ignoring his screaming rib, clawing at the ground as he tried to get closer to the only family he had left. He couldn’t speak as he watched their captor lift up the fifteen year olds chin with nothing but the knife in his hand. The child’s beautiful blue eyes were tightly screwed shut and his body trembled with every ragged breath he took. His entire throat was tense with the sobs he refused to let out. “L-leave h-him…” Jack forced out, unable to move himself any further with the cuff around his ankle.

The stranger brushed at the boy’s curls. Race shivered. “Please… please don’t make me hurt him again…” he breathed, unable to stand the thought of raising any kind of weapon at a man he knew could never even dream of hurting him. “Please…”

The masked man chuckled lightly, tracing the knife over the child’s jaw before reaching around the boy, getting much to close for the teen’s or his brother’s liking. But soon, the cuffs around his wrists fell away.

The knife did not.

The key was dropped, almost like it no longer mattered. The masked man reached to tighten a hand in the child’s blond curls and forced him to his feet with no remorse as the child cried out in pain. Jack flinched beneath them both and hissed at the sudden movement.

Race let out a helpless wail as the man grabbed his arm and whirled him around, pulling him all too eagerly to his chest and wrapping his arm and his knife around the child’s neck. He began to tremble even more as he was forced to step forward, closer to his big brother who was still on the ground.

“Get him on his knees,” the man whispered harshly into his ears. Race didn’t move. So the man forcefully moved the boy’s body closer to the ground and tightened his gasp on the kid’s hair as the boy desperately grasped at the arm around his throat. “Grab him by the hair and get him on his knees!”

The boy jumped, feeling panic grip at him even tighter as it was getting a bit more difficult to breathe. Jack reached up with a shaky hand and grabbed his little brother’s wrist with all the strength he had left. And he brought the boy’s hand down onto his hair. Race sobbed. But he did as he was told.

Jack bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming. He ended up letting out a breathy whimper.

Race let go as soon as he could. As soon as Jack was sitting upright. He let out a sob as Jack hunched over, unable to sit up tall like the boy knew he wanted to. “Pl-please stop…”

The masked man released the hold he’d had on the child’s hair. The child reached back up to try and pull at the man’s arm. But the man grabbed at his right wrist. So the boy let go, his hand open as the man prompted. It was only a moment before the man reached back at his belt for something.

And Race screamed when a small pistol was pressed into his already shuddering hand. “No-no!” he cried, his knees giving out on him. The man forced the weapon into his hand and held it tightly to it, forcing him to remain upright as Jack looked up at the man with hopeless tears in his eyes.

Race couldn’t hold back his own. They began cascading down his cheeks as he screamed at the top of his lungs, begging the man not to make him do this. Jack watched as the knife pressed further into the boy’s neck. He swallowed hard.

“Stop screaming!” the man demanded, forcing the boy to tighten his fingers around the weapon. Race tried to catch his breath, letting out whined hum, trying desperately to do as the man demanded. “Aim it at his head—“

“No… no, please—“

“Now!” the man shouted, making the child flinch violently in his embrace. Jack couldn’t help his own jerk when the man raised his voice that echoed off of the walls that surrounded them.

Jack looked up at the boy he loved so dearly. He let the tears fall when he saw his broken little boy. “T-Tyler… it’s okay…” The boy tried to shake his head. The masked man held him tighter. But Jack nodded. “Tyler… baby, look at me…” he pleaded. The boy did so, reluctantly. And he started to cry harder. “I love you… it’s gonna be okay…”

“N-no…” the child moaned. “No…”

The man pulled the knife along the boy’s neck slowly, only drawing a small line of blood. Race let out a cry. And Jack panicked even more. “Do it, baby… it’s okay…” he insisted again, reaching up gently to his little brother’s hand. Violent tremors ran down the boy’s arm as Jack helped him direct the weapon right at his forehead, accepting his fate.

“You heard him, Tyler James…” the man whispered into his ear. “Do it. You can end all of his suffering right now.”

The child couldn’t breathe. Jack was completely giving up on him. He was just going to take it. Because it was one or the other. Either Race took Jack’s life, or their captor took his.

Race tried to steady himself. To be brave. But he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. “I c-can’t…”

The man growled, ready to demand more of the poor child in his arms. But an alarm went off. Like a fire alarm of some kind. The man looked around wildly and Race cried out once again, his legs trying to push him forward without his brain’s consent.

Jack only gasped and fell down to his hands and knees. He could hardly hold himself up anymore. It was hard to breathe. His head pounded against his skull. He felt nauseous. He coughed again as the man took a few steps backwards, taking the boy back with him. “Kill him. Now.”

“No!” the child cried, unable to make his finger curl around that trigger. “No! Let me go! Let us go!”

Jack coughed again. Blood dropped on the floor. He was shaking.

The man grabbed at the gun and fired.

Jack let his chest fall to the ground as the bullet grazed just over his right shoulder.

He screamed.

Someone banged at the door. The masked man tightened his grasp on Race for only a split second, drawing even more blood as the boy squirmed.

“Open the door! FBI!”

The knife was dropped and the gun was grabbed and Race was shoved down to his knees.

He rolled over, trying to figure out what the man was doing. He saw a part of the wall open up.

And then the masked man was gone.

Race scrambled to the detective on the ground. His brother. His only family. “J-Jack…” he whimpered. Before he could think, Jack had somehow managed to push himself up with one arm and clumsily take his brother into his beaten and battered chest. Race didn’t protest. “Y-you’re hurt…”

Jack’s hand curled into the back of his brother’s hair. He clung to the boy with all the strength he had left.

The door was kicked in. Race jumped. Jack held him closer.

That was when Jack allowed himself to stop holding back. The tears came. So did the sobs. Even as six or so FBI agents flooded into the room. Even as he caught a familiar face amongst the crowd. Jack convulsed with his cries and his little brother tried to calm him.

Jack looked up at David with pleading eyes, begging his partner to tell him that they were on the guy. That they knew who he was.

The man could only sadly shake his head.

And Jack’s heart dropped into his stomach.

As his baby brother lay him back to the ground, Jack coughed again, reaching out for the child’s hand as Race began to ramble out apologies and pleas not to take him away from Jack.

David took the boy into his arms, still letting him hold the young detective’s hand. “I gotcha, Tyler… I gotcha and we got Jack… we’re okay…”

“I-I h-hurt him… I h-hurt him… I did this…” the boy whimpered.

He’d done this.

Jack was hurt, possibly dying and it was his fault.

“I did this…”

#newsies #jack kelly #racetrack higgins #angst #whump #whump trope #whump talk #kidnapping #blood #torture #newsies live #newsies musical #modern au #modern era #anonymous #anon #anon response

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canid-slashclaw · 4 years

Text

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22

Chapter 23

"Out late again, huh?" She said in a sassy tone.

"Up late again, huh! Shouldn't you be in bed already?"

"Were you out with that charr girlfriend again? Getting some of that, rawwrrrr?"

Kaleb lost it.

“SHUT UP RACHEL! I'm sick of your nonsense!"

She screamed back. "Well it's true! You have been seeing her, haven't you?"

"It's none of your damned business who I see!"

The commotion woke up their youngest sibling, Katie. Within a few moments, she ambled down the stairs carrying her stuffed teddy bear as she looked at her big brother with a sleepy set of eyes.

"Why are you yelling?"

Kaleb ran to her and picked her up. "Sorry sweetie. Your big sister and I were just having a little discussion. Rachel - put her to bed, please."

"Why me? You were the one who woke her up by yelling at the top of your lungs," Rachel retorted.

"DO AS I SAY!" Kaleb erupted.

Forgetting that he was holding his little sister close to his mouth, the force of his shout hurt Katie's ears to the point she started bawling. The noise had finally drawn the attention of Mother Shirley who had come to investigate what all the hoopla was about.

"What in Dwayna's name is going on here??" Mother Grimwald said tersely as she strode over to comfort a wailing Katie.

"Sorry, mom. It's just Rachel being a little mouthy brat, that's all," Kaleb commented while trying to console his bawling little sister.

"At least I'm not getting pussy...cat late at night with a charr!" Rachel shot back.

Kaleb was now flushed with rage. "Don't you know when to cut it??"

Shirley looked her son in the eyes as the nature of her facial expression began to change. "Rachel - take Katie to her room right this instant! Son - that look on your face... I've seen it before."

"What are you talking about, mom?"

"He's in love with that charr. The two of them have been doing it with each other. I have proof," Rachel said as she carried Katie up to her room.

"What are Kal and the charr doing with each other?" Katie asked innocently.

"Nevermind sis. When you get older, you'll understand," her older sister said as she opened the door to her younger sister's room.

"Kaleb! Is it... is it, true? Have you actually been...?" His mother was at a loss for words.

"Mom. Rachel is trying to embarrass me, that's all."

His mother's look suddenly changed from shock to an expression of sadness mixed with rage. "No. Nooo. By Lyssa's mercy, it can't be!!"

Shirley began to bawl openly as she pointed towards her son. Within moments, the elder Grimwald, Daniel, stepped in from the back kitchen door while hobbling along using a crutch. As soon as she saw her husband, she walked over towards him, nestled her head into his chest crying then pointed towards Kaleb.

"Our son has been having relations with that female charr! I know that look on his face anywhere. It's the look of a forlorn lover, that's what it is!" His mother's bawling became even more intense.

"What's this all about? Shirley, what in the Sixs' name is going on?" Daniel said as he tried comforting his distraught wife.

"He is in love with that charr whose life he saved, that's what. Ever wonder why he packed so much meat during his picnics?"

Moments later, Rachel came down the stairs carrying a large book with a tan parchment piece of paper inserted between the pages.

"He has been screwing that charr too. Here - I have proof!"

His sister ran to the dining room table then laid out the book. She opened it to the pages displaying the explicit illustrations of charr engaged in mating positions. She also placed the letter on the table that Amalthia had written to Kaleb as well.

Both of Kaleb's parents saw the illustrations as Rachel stood back with a wide, sinister grin on her face.

"Son. Is this true?" The elder Grimwald asked with a voice of shock.

"What are you talking about?" Kaleb responded.

"Did you have carnal relations with a charr?" His mother asked pointedly. "Rachel - go to your room NOW young lady. I will discuss the nature of your possession of such a filthy book at a later time. For now, just go!"

The middle child ran back to her room but not before giving Kaleb a razzing before departing.

"Answer you mother's question, son. Did you have unholy relations?" His father asked in an even tone.

Kaleb stood his ground. "Father, there is nothing about our relationship that is unholy. She and I have been together for awhile."

"Answer the damn question, son... did you have this kind of relationship with her?" His father said as he pointed towards the graphic illustrations.

"What business is it of yours if I did?" His son spat.

His mother summoned the courage to read the love letter. When she did her expression turned to sheer horror. Father Grimwald read it as well. When he did, his face darkened with anger.

"So it's true... you are in love with this charr."

Mother Grimwald became unhinged as she ran over, grabbed the objectionable book and began tearing the pages to shreds. As she shredded the material, she began reciting every scriptural verse she was able to recall.

"This evil is to never defile our blessed house again! Such immoral filth has corrupted your soul, son. May Grenth have mercy on your misguided deeds," she said as she frantically began gathering up the hewn remnants of the book.

"Well, Grenth can just stick it where the sun don't shine! Same goes for the other Five. And yes, I am in love with Amalthia. She has a name in case you didn't comprehend that. Oh, and hail Abaddon!" Kaleb snarked as he gave a mocking ceremonial bow to a god he did not believe in.

His father had reached his breaking point. "Son. You do not blaspheme the Six and you certainly do not praise the Fallen One. What's happened to you?"

"I fell in love, dad. With someone I truly care about and who truly cares about me. Is that so hard to understand?"

"Patricia cares about you, about us, about this family!" His father shot back.

"She only cares about this land, father. You more than anyone knows this to be true."

"Why, son. Whyyy??" Shirley started to bawl again.

"So you leave a perfectly beautiful girl with a prosperous loving family to be with, to be with an animal?"

Kaleb's rage had tipped the boiling point as well. "If you weren't my dad, I would deck you for calling Amalthia that. Grow a godsdamn backbone for a change, father! You only approve of Trish because Mom is so desperate for a Grimwald to pop out some grandkids. She doesn't have any clue how much Trish's father, Milton, has been coveting this land and for how long."

"That's it, son! You've talked back to me, insulted your mother, blasphemed the Six and committed unholy relations with a beast. You Kaleb Grimwald, are no longer welcome to stay under this abode!" His father shouted in a raging tone that Kaleb had never heard before.

"So you're kicking me out onto the streets? Who’s going to run your business?"

"My brother, Bill, and his son will offer a hand. Either way, I'll manage. I just want you out of this house within the hour. Otherwise I will call the authorities," Daniel said as he gave his son a harsh glare. Kaleb sunk to the floor as a torrent of tears fell from his dark brown eyes. Everything that he ever knew and loved was collapsing all around him at once.

It took a little over an hour for Kaleb to pack his belongings. When he was finished, he wandered with only a backpack over his shoulders and his trusty weapons by his side. As he was heading down, Katie opened the door from her room then ran down the stairs to hug him.

"You have a nappie pack on. Where are you going?"

Kaleb knelt down and hugged her. "It's okay, sweetheart. Big brother has to go away for a while. Remember, no matter what happens, your big brother will always love ya."

"How long will you be gone?" His little sister asked.

"I wish I knew, Katie," Kaleb said as he leaned past her and looked at his father's stern expression.

I wish I knew.

He departed the one place he had called home his entire life. Once a promising son who was slated to take over the wagon making business, was now unemployed, destitute and - for the first time in his life - without a place to call home.

Kaleb knew the only place that was like a home away from home for him was the Jotun's Corpse tavern. Perhaps Ulfgar would offer him a place to stay. He had the skills to become a freelance bounty hunter along with plenty of local connections, so finding a way of earning income wouldn't be a problem. At least he wanted to believe that, anyways.

When he arrived at the tavern, it was already past one in the morning. By this time, the establishment would normally be closed. However, on this night, he found that the gaslights were still illuminated. As he reached for the door handle, he noticed a hand-written note that was stuck to the front window.

Kaleb:

A special someone has been waiting here for you for quite some time. Feel free to come in.

~Ulf

The bar was empty save for the massive norn who was wiping down the mahogany top. Kaleb walked forward and Ulfgar waved for him to sit down.

"Took you long enough to get here. What's with the long face, boy?"

Kaleb looked down somberly. "Long story. I got your note on the door. Who's this 'special' someone?"

The old norn looked at him, smiled then waved his hand as if gesturing for an unseen someone to come on over. "Who could be, eh? A mighty fine lass, she is."

"Kaleb?" Came the voice from behind the young man.

He recognized it immediately.

"Amalthia??"

When he turned around to look, he saw her standing there, head bowed, her somber amber eyes looking straight at him. As she approached, her facial expression changed to a much more joyous one as she opened her arms wide.

"Kaleb! Get over here, you!" The two lovers embraced and Kaleb's heart was filled with a measure of happiness once more.

"I can't believe you waited all this time hoping that I'd be here. Not that I'm complaining, mind you," he said to her as they held hands.

Amalthia's ears twitched while squeezing his hand hard. "I would have slept in the pouring rain next to a mucking stall if it meant you would eventually be there. Kaleb, there's so much I have to tell you..."

"It's okay, Ama. I'm in the same boat too."

Ulfgar smiled at both of them then offered each a stein of mead. "Yer two outliers if I ever saw 'em. These are on the house. Now tell your good friend Ulf what happened, lad."

Amalthia looked at him and was curious as well. "At the risk of sounding like a drunken parrot, what did happen?"

Kaleb lowered his head as he stared into his mug. "My parents found out about our relationship - no thanks to my backstabbing little twit-of-a sister. Anyway, I got into a heated argument with my folks and wound up getting kicked outta the house."

"Oh no!" Amalthia said as she tried to console him.

"That's terrible news, lad." Ulfgar shook his head.

"So now, I have no place to go."

"Lad. You'll always have a place here when things get tough. So long as you can earn yer keep, there's a room upstairs waitin' for ya. Both of ya, in fact"

"Ulfgar, that is too kind of you. Thank you!" She said as she reached over to give the old norn a hug.

"It's never a problem helping friends. Your sire and I go way back and the least I could do is help his only cub. Besides, I would very much like to get to know you better as you won over one of the best humans I've ever had the honor of serving drinks to."

"Thank you, Ulf. It means a lot. Kaleb - I wanted to tell you that my sire, um... father holds no ill feelings towards you. What he did was just an act to convince mother we were no good to her anymore. From now on, she should no longer pose a threat to you or anyone. For all intents and purposes, she's out of our lives for good," Amalthia explained.

"Thank you, Ulfgar." Kaleb, then, looked at Amalthia and said. "None taken. I probably would have done the same thing had I been in his paw pads. You are lucky to have a father who protects you the way he does."

Kaleb gazed into her amber eyes then kissed her on the forehead. Amalthia's ears twitched in gratitude.

"I'm assuming you are no longer working for your family anymore. If that's the case then how do you plan on making an income?" She asked.

A sudden flash of inspiration came into Kaleb's mind. "Amalthia. How about you and I go into the business of freelance bounty hunting together? We worked really well as a team before and with your skills and mine paired together, we could make a killing! Quite literally, I might add too."

She thought about it for a moment before smiling and nodding to him in agreement. "Funny thing. I was thinking along similar lines as well. But what shall we call our little enterprise?"

Ulfgar chimed in. "Um. Outliers sounds like a fitting name if ya ask me."

Both Kaleb and Amalthia looked at each other and smiled widely.

"Outliers!"

"You are an inspiration, old friend!" Kaleb said as he clapped the norn on the shoulder.

Amalthia had a flash of insight of her own as well. "We need a theme to go with our brand. Hey! I could talk to Ariyana. She does all kinds of custom outfits. I think I could talk her into designing us some."

"Good call. But we are going to need a catchy logo of some sort. Oie! My brain is exhausted from all of the excitement," Kaleb said as he tried to think of some interesting concepts.

"There's been plenty of excitement for both of us, Kal. Ulf - I'm still employed by my sire so I've got plenty of coin if you need a down payment for rent," Amalthia said as she pulled a leather coin purse from her pocket.

"Thank you, lass. But you and Kaleb have to get your house in order first. I'll quote you a very fair price once the two of you get things squared. Now get some rest, both you pups. Tomorrow is a brighter day."

Ulfgar showed Kaleb and Amalthia the upstairs room that was available. Once they were settled into their new surroundings, the pair mutually decided that donning garments of any kind was far too burdensome. Thus, they stripped down until both were lying on the large bed, completely bereft of clothing.

Amalthia nestled her head against Kaleb's chest as she purred in contentment. "My lower horns aren't hurting you, are they?"

"Nah. You're fine, honey," he said as he began stroking her long, golden mane.

"I'm just glad to be here with you." Her voice became a soft purr as she pushed her muzzle into the crook of his neck.

Resting his hand between her larger upper horns and stroking her lovely mane, something dawned on him.

"You know what?"

"What?"

"This will be our first night in bed together. I sure hope you have some birth control," Kaleb said in a tongue-in-cheek tone.

"Oh shut your hole, you! We are birth control together. Besides, it's not like my plumbing works down there anyway," Amalthia said as Kaleb rolled on top of her.

"Crap! I forgot about that. I'm so sorry."

She just smiled then slid her raspy tongue down his mouth for a moment before withdrawing. "I'm not. Now stop talking and make love to me, you big not-so-hairy beast!"

That night two souls from two different worlds shared their love together, for the first time, under the same roof.

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 23 is posted here.)

#gw2 fanfic #tyriaslibrary #the outliers #cw adult situations #kaleb and amalthia #human and charr #inter-species romance

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mushroommouth · 4 years

Text

The Good Mourning Part III

A/N: Haha, guess who’s not dead?

Anyway, happy we’re-done-with-January! Sorry this chapter is somewhat dialogue-heavy. There was a lot of resolution that had to be done and not much action to go along with it.

Additionally, there are some scenes missing/ things that weren’t addressed quite just yet. Some of them were removed for for flow purposes, and others. Well. We’ll get there when we get there.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy the finale of TGM!

-Skye (👻)

“Easy, easy—”

Aaron laughed and nudged his boss’s hand off his arm.

“I’m burned not busted. Besides, you’re the one a billion years old.” Aaron smirked and readjusted the icing bag. “I should be worrying over you, if anything.”

“Very funny. I’ll fire you any day now, I swear.” Aaron’s boss rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter. “Besides, you got burned on your dominant hand. Look at this frosting work. It’s- actually, It’s fine. But you’ve certainly done a lot better.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just kind of hard to get a good grip. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“And your leg?”

“Again, I said I’m fine. What the hell is your problem? It’s been almost three months.” Aaron rolled his shoulder and sighed before setting down the icing bag. “Also, I can’t work when you’re looking at me like that. Just…really. What is going on with you, Stanley?”

Stanley sighed and rubbed his face before nervously scratching at his beard.

“I…I don’t know. I guess I never really had a family and– c’mon, you little shit. Don’t make me say it.”

“Aww, boss. You never told me you had a heart deep beneath that gross crusty old man act.” Aaron laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Real cute. See if I sign your check next time, much less open up.” Stanley stormed across the kitchen to wash his hands. “You’re real charming, kid.”

“Oh don’t be like that.” Aaron picked up the icing bag and started gently swirling frosting onto each cupcake. “You know what I mean. When I was out, there’s no one else I woulda trusted to watch Tom ‘n the kittens…’n…I don’t know. If I could have my cat in here, with you guys and baking and all… I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

Aaron smiled slightly.

“Besides, you were there for me when I had no one and you hired me as a cashier, and then you gave me the chance at…this.”

Aaron froze before bursting out in laughter.

“Stan, are you-are you crying?”

“I’m just thinking about how terrible of a cashier you were.” Stanley sniffled and wiped at his eyes in the crook of his elbow. “You were friggin terrible. Got to me is all.”

He put gloves on and walked to stand next to Aaron.

“We lost almost as much money from you doing math bad as when you were out.” Stan grabbed a tray of red velvet and got started icing them. “We needed ya here. We were hit pretty hard without you. I…should have really kept my promise and made the big guy pay for it.”

“You mean Dan? I mean, they were hit pretty hard, too.” Aaron sighed. “I mean, literally, sure. He’s been in and out of the hospital since. I can’t imagine what his copay is, and if he didn’t step in front of it for me, I’d been finished for, I’m sure. But also… I dunno. I don’t really have a family either, but when I do it’s this.”

“You’re a good guy, Aaron.”

Aaron snorted. “You’re just saying that to make me feel good about myself.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of a jackass.”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah. No worries about losing the money though. People have been trailing in here non-stop because they thought we closed for a bit because something happened to you. Y’know, in your fragile, elderly state.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, it’s a shame the fire didn’t burn your hair off. You look like a frickin’ hippy.”

Aaron laughed harder. “Maybe for your birthday. You’ve only got so many left, after all.”

“Shame it didn’t burn your mouth off, too.”

They iced in silence for a moment before Stanley spoke up again.

“Hey, once we’re in the clear again and have enough money saved up, I think you gave me an idea for our next spot, Aaron.”

—

Cody cautiously opened the door.

“Hey Milo?” He asked. “Dad and Miranda want to know if you would rather have sparkling red grape juice or sparkling…red grape juice?”

Milo looked up from his project.

“…What?”

“We’re out of white, but the red are different brands.” Cody said.

“I… got that. I meant why, I guess.”

“Oh! Dad and Miranda, uh. Do this dinner thing on special occasions. They get Italian takeout and wine, light a bunch of candles and pretend it’s all fancy. They started getting the grape juice, so I feel included and junk.”

“Huh.” Milo picked up the duck tape. “Sorry, I…uh. Does this look right to you?”

Cody stepped into the room and flicked on the light.

“It looks like…holy cow, are you done?”

Milo held Jake’s guitar close, fidgeting with the neck.

“Almost, I think! The top part needs a little more tape and junk.” Milo set the guitar down gently on the bed. “How does it look?”

The guitar was, truthfully, an amalgamation of glue and tape, but it was the first time Cody had seen it in one piece in months. All the strings were fixed, the paint that could be reapplied was, and it seemed finally whole. Cody walked up and smiled, taking in the details of the guitar.

As soon as he looked up, though, the smile fell in an instant.

“Milo?”

“Hmm?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“For more than two hours?”

“…That’s not fair.” Milo rubbed his eyes as if trying to wipe away the bags. “’Sides, look how far I got!”

“Milo, that’s cool and all, but—”

“Cody, you know this is important to me.”

“Yes, but at our age we need ten-to-twelve hours of sleep.” Cody sighed. “Milo…I’m worried about you. You’re all pale, and…you look like you’re starting to get sick. Sleep is–”

“I can’t sleep, okay?!” Milo balled his fists. “I tried. I really, really tried. I know it’s important. I just…can’t.”

Cody grabbed some tissues and sat down on the other side of the bed, trying not to jostle the guitar. He reached over and handed a tissue to Milo, who immediately began wiping away the rapidly-beading tears.

“Not like I can tell Dad, right?” Milo laughed dryly.

Cody forced a smile.

“Well, you can soon, right? That’s what we’re celebrating. Dan is finally getting his wires out. He’ll be able to eat for real soon and his teeth were all fixed and the surgery went well-he’s in the clear! It’s your last night with us with Dan hurt. Everything’s going back to normal.”

“‘Cept it won’t.” Milo muttered. “One of my dads is still gone and hasn’t made even a little bit of a sign to say he’s out there. And I saw the other- Cody, I don’t ever want to see Dan like that again. I…”

“Daniel Fuller, sit down!”

Dan whipped his head around from beside his hospital bed, looking dazedly at the IVs he ripped out and back up at Reese.

“Whhh…” Dan’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton. That felt correct given the circumstances, but he couldn’t remember exactly why.

Reese sighed and began walking across the room to guide him back to the hospital bed.

She forced a slight smile as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“…Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Finally, it clicked as Reese began putting back in the IVs. If Reese was here, then he was at the hospital. And if he was at the hospital…

“Whirrrrrr…is Ja’e?” Dan asked. “Mi’o?”

Reese frowned and looked to the other member of the room. Milo was looking back at Dan with wide, puffy eyes. His cheeks were streaked and stained with tears. He was holding something up with his sweatshirt, keeping it tight to his chest.

Milo stood up, taking a step toward Dan, wanting nothing more than to lunge at his dad and cry for hours. However, the movement seemed to remind Milo about what he was holding onto and he tensed up again.

Dan looked at Milo worriedly. He moved to to get up again, but Reese gave him a stern look.

“That’s enough, Mr. Fuller.” She watched him as he hesitantly scooted back into the bed. “You were concussed something fierce, not to mention the broken jaw and fractured cheekbone. You are going to stay still until at least the swelling goes down so we can do surgery.”

That was right. He and Aaron went to Donna’s old house. The rest was kind of fuzzy, but Dan was pretty sure Jake ended up being there. Milo was left with Cody. And now Dan and Milo were both at the hospital.

“It’s weird treating you and not Milo. You’re usually the safe one,” Reese forced a faint smile. She looked at Milo for a moment and back to Dan. “I have to go do rounds, but I’ll be right back. Just- please. Stay still. There’s the call button if you need me.”

Dan absentmindedly touched the bandage around his face while looking over Milo carefully. Milo seemed beyond upset, but not physically hurt. Dan sighed in relief and sank back into the hospital bed. He closed his eyes without realizing it, and jerked back awake from the movement on the other side of the room.

“Dad.” Milo sniffled, holding on to what was in his sweatshirt in one hand and wiping tears and snot off his face with the other. “Dad, Dad, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t-“

Milo was cut off by Dan wordlessly cupping a hand (the free one, the other was resting with the IVs) on the side of his face, silently wiping some of Milo’s tears away.

“Mi’o.” Dan said again, this time quieter but equally as desperate. He looked at his son intensely, desperate to say more and comfort him but not about to test the waters with Reese any further.

They looked at each other for a moment before Milo ripped his gaze away. Without another word, he dumped the splinters of Jake’s guitar onto Dan’s bed.

To Dan’s credit, he didn’t scream or wail like Milo feared he might—or like what Milo felt like doing. In fact, other than a faint gasp, Dan was so quiet that Milo had to force himself to turn around from the comfort of looking at the wall.

Dan was holding part of the neck, eyes wide. Tears were pooling up and spilling down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to realize it. He gently nudged one of the pieces aside, looking at the scope of the damage.

The only response from the anchor- the thing keeping Jake with them- was a pitiful and faint cyan glow before fading out entirely.

Dan tightened his grip on the piece he was holding and began to tremble.

He didn’t scream or wail. Instead he cried quietly, holding the remaining pieces of his best friend. Milo wasn’t sure how long he watched Dan cry. Milo cried too, sure, but it felt strange. Dan, Dan Milo’s father, Dan the strong, Dan the one who had to keep it together so long for both Jake and Milo.

Neither talked much except occasional choked off apologies or reassurances. After awhile, it seemed to wear Dan out significantly. He fell asleep holding Milo’s hand in one hand and the same piece of the guitar in the other. Milo gathered up most of the pieces with his free hand, trying not to wake Dan up.

And when Reese came back, she didn’t comment on the broken guitar in the bed or report Milo staying past visiting hours, sleeping by Dan’s side.

And when Milo woke up with an additional blanket on his shoulders, his father fast and deep asleep still from painkillers, he didn’t say anything, either. But neither forgot.

“-ilo? Milo?”

“Hm?” Milo shook his head of the memory, trying to clear it like an Etch-a-sketch.

“I lost you for a second.” Cody offered more tissues, and Milo was shocked to realize how many tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Sorry, I thought I was done with…all this.” Milo scrubbed at his eyes and wiped his nose

They sat in silence for a moment. The only sounds were Milo’s stifled sniffling and the gentle hum of the heater.

“It’s…okay to be upset. It was scary.” Cody sighed. “But you can always talk about it, ya know? It’s been fun with you being here more– though the situation isn’t great– and I just wish… I don’t know.”

Cody scratched the back of his neck and looked away.

“Make sure to take care of yourself too, Milo.”

Milo was silent for a moment before picking up the tape again and pulling the guitar into his lap. He ripped off a piece of duck tape and firmly wrapped it around the neck of the guitar.

“I know.” He finally responded quietly. “‘Sides, even if I didn’t, I think you would- I don’t know.”

“Post a ‘Milo cringe compilation everyday until Milo eats like a human?’”

“I dunno, I’d have to be embarrassed first for it to be cringe.” Milo laughed. “I wasn’t eating like a human before, anyway.”

“What about a ‘Cody snitches and tells Tegan, who won’t leave it alone’ kind of thing?’”

Milo gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Nah, that’d be low. Even for me.” Cody leaned back before grinning. “Maybe…summoning an ancient god to hex you for your hubris until you get a full night’s sleep?”

“Actually, that’s your closest yet.” Milo smiled back. “But where’ll you get the tome?”

“Ah. Rats.” Cody snapped his fingers. “You got me there. For now.”

“You’ll find a way.” Milo yawned. “Always do.”

“Heh.”

The two sat in quiet for a moment as Cody watched Milo tinker with the guitar.

“I…think it’s finally sturdy.”

Milo gently handed the guitar for Cody to look over. Cody ran his fingers along the cracks and seems, before holding it as if to play. He then looked at it again before beaming at Milo.

“Milo, you did it!” Cody handed it back. “It looks great.”

“Thanks!” He took the guitar back and began gently picking at a piece of glue that obtruded above the crack it fixed. “All that’s left is tuning it, I think. I think.”

“Now would be a good time to take a break.” Cody got up from the bed. “Dinner’s been here and ready. I just came up here to ask about the grape juice.”

“I…either’s fine? I guess?”

“Does that mean you’ll come down?”

Milo looked away and held the guitar close.

“Milo-“

“I just need to tune it. I already found tutorials online.” Milo smiled tiredly. “I’ll come down when I’m done, okay? And that’s it.”

“…Promise?”

“I promise.”

Cody sighed and stood up. He hugged Milo briefly before heading to the door.

“…Your plate will be in the fridge.”

Cody stepped out of the room and headed to the kitchen. Cody couldn’t bring himself to meet Dom’s hopeful eyes.

“Milo’s not coming.”

—-

“-Then let’s hear how it sounds all together! If you don’t have a pick, for a gentler sound, strum your guitar using your thumb like this!” The grainy figure adjusted their camera slightly before demonstrating a simple thumb. “My dad taught me this trick when I was-“

“Yeuch.” Milo shut his phone off before the tutorial could finish and flopped back onto the bed.

He rubbed his eyes, wishing he shut the light back off when Cody left. He lay like that for a moment and counting his breath, hands gently pressed into his eyes until he saw the slightest bursts of stars.

Finally, Milo shot up and began flapping his arm nervously, trying to calm down.

“Okay, okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath and grabbed the guitar. “Dad, I dunno if you can hear me, but if this doesn’t work- if this doesn’t work, I’m going to take a break for a bit, okay? I’ll come back, but I’m beginning to think Cody’s right, and- okay.”

Milo held the guitar like how he saw in the video and took deep breaths in and out.

“Okay. On the count of three.”

“One-“ Milo lifted his hand shakily and held it just above the chords.

“Two.” He took a quick shallow breath, meaning to do the exact opposite.

“Three.”

Milo strummed the guitar. There was the sound of glass breaking and a bright cyan light engulfed his vision.

—-

The guitar was ripped away before Milo could realize what was happening.

It floated to the middle of the room, where it hovered before a figure formed around it. The figure, entirely blank other than vaguely humanoid, hesitated before quickly taking on their features. First was a neat burial suit, followed by tired eyes and a shock of blonde hair.

In a matter of seconds, there was Jake.

Jake collapsed to the floor, holding on to the guitar strapped to his chest like a lifeline, and took a deep and unnecessary breath. His hand moved from the guitar to grab at his unmoving chest. He gasped again before starting to get up.

“Dad?” Milo tried to blink some of the blotches out of his eyes.

“Milo-“ Jake started, but Milo had already jumped off the bed and bounded toward him.

Jake instinctively raised his arms to hold Milo in the embrace, but they phased right through Milo. The guitar stopped Milo from going through him entirely, which caused Milo to gently lay a hand on it as be began breathing faster and faster.

“Sorry,” Jake started. He cringed slightly at the echo effect of his voice. “I don’t think I’m all the way back yet-“

“Dad, I’m so sorry for fighting with you and saying you’re not my dad, and for making you feel like you can’t tell me stuff, and I’m sorry for taking so long to fix this and for the haunted house and for talking back to you and-“

“Breathe.” Jake smiled softly and got as close as he could to wrapping his arms around Milo. Milo shuddered for a second at the cold sensation rather than the feeling of touch. “Milo, you did so, so great.”

“But I- but I…” Milo trailed off and burst into tears.

The two stood in the mock hug for a moment, Milo’s hand not leaving the guitar. Jake waited until Milo’s breathing evened out somewhat into a quiet hiccup.

“You brought me back.” Jake reached up and held his hand as if he were cupping Milo’s cheek. “You put back together the guitar—that’s incredible! You’re incredible, Milo.”

“Yeah.” Milo sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah! Take that, Cody! Sleep is for the weak!”

Jake chuckled.

“I don’t know about that.“ He cleared his throat. “Im fact, I think sleep might be up there in the whole ‘human needs’ thing. When’s the last time you slept?”

He sighed in relief as the echo effect dissipated, pulling back slightly to take in Milo’s expression.

“Boo, not you too.” Milo pouted. “Cody and Dad have been getting on my case nonstop already.”

“Well, they’re right. I…” Jake looked away. “How…is Dan doing, by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s getting his stitches out today!” Milo smiled for a moment before his expression fell into confusion. “That’s why I’m at Cody’s. Uh, here at Cody’s. I guess.”

“Uh-“ Jake blinked in surprise.

“Did…you really were gone, huh?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor, still somewhat surprised by the realization he wasn’t in their house.

“Not gone. It was like-“ He shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe it, but not gone. And just now, Milo, you made the door to bring me back here.”

Jake held up the guitar and smiled.

“I could feel you, though. Whenever you touched this, Milo, I knew it was you. And Cody sometimes. But Dan…” He trailed off and the smile vanished entirely.

“I think he’s been having trouble.”

“Oh.”

“He missed you a lot.”

Jake laughed dryly and looked away again.

“Well, I missed him too. I missed all of you so much.”

Overcome with the need to ease the tension to the point he was nearly vibrating, Milo quickly replied.

“Not as much as Cody’s gonna miss his window!”

“What? Oh- oh my god.”

Jake stood up quickly to get a better look at the blown-out window.

“Did I do that? Or did you do that?”

“Definitely you. You know, this time.” Milo followed suit and peered around Jake to take in the scene. “You exploded before you came back. There was a bright light and boom, you knocked out the window. It’s…weird no one came up to check on the noise.”

“I will definitely make sure that gets fixed.” Jake walked over to sit on the bed. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before absentmindedly fiddling with the tuning pegs of the guitar.

Milo hesitated before sitting on the bed beside him.

“…Was I close to doing it right?”

“You were really close. It just needs a little more tweaking, but I can’t say it enough-the fact you fixed this without me teaching you about the parts of a guitar, the way you fixed all the pieces together- you’re incredible, Milo. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Milo yawned. “I think it’s dumb that you can sit on furniture but you can’t hug me after being gone for like three months.”

“It has to do with affecting the environment versus affecting a person.”

“Hmm.”

“Environment comes first.”

“You sound a lot like Cody.” Milo scooted back so his back was to the wall.

“He taught me everything I know. Which is pretty ironic if you think about it.” Jake stopped tuning and looked out of the corner of his eye at Milo. “You never answered my question. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Last night, technically.”

“I can’t say it enough how proud I am of you for this and being brave,” Jake fully turned to get a better look at his son. Milo turned away. “But that’s not the answer I was hoping to hear.”

“I know. I just haven’t been able to with, you know, everything going on.”

They sat quietly before Jake grinned.

“When you were little-really little, you’d fall asleep right away if I played for you.” Jake turned his gaze back to the guitar. “You’d always sneak out of bed and say you were going to get a snack, or use the bathroom, or get a glass of water, but instead you’d go play with your toys.”

Jake looked around the room and locked eyes with a video game ghost plush in the corner. “Now, you sneak out of bed and come here if you can’t sleep.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for tradition.”

Jake laughed and Milo cracked a tired grin back.

“You should play.” Milo said. “If you want.”

Jake hesitated before adjusting the guitar slightly as if to play it. He got his fingers over the chord and before stopping jerkily.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Milo quickly added.

Jake nodded and played a few chords, expression falling to that of focus as he tried to get the feel again. After some more nitpicking with the tuning pegs, he began to tentatively pluck out more notes.

He looked back over at Milo and the bags under his eyes.

“You’re sure it’s not going to make you fall asleep?”

“I promise it’s not. I’m fourteen, remember?”

Jake’s grin came back with full force.

“Oh, of course.”

Without another word, he began plucking out a lullaby from a decade prior. The room was silent save for the gentle music, the house almost seeming to have emptied itself to make room for the sound itself.

Learning an effective lullaby after the much louder and angrier Problem Sons was tricky. However, it was nowhere as tricky as an energetic toddler—or, beyond that, losing Milo Sr.

Once Jake was comfortable enough repeating the chords of the chorus, he began to sing. His voice soft and hoarse from disuse and his eyes never left the guitar as the melody played.

By the time he was finished, he took a breath and turned slightly to gauge Milo’s reaction.

Of course, it was an unnecessary measure. Jake chuckled and stood up, slinging the guitar around to his back.

“You shouldn’t make promises you don’t think you can keep.” Jake whispered to Milo’s sleeping form.

He gently brushed the hair out of Milo’s face and kissed his forehead.

“Goodnight, Milo.”

The young woman shuffled in the room holding two mugs, still shaking slightly from the events that unfolded months prior. She offered a cup to her guest and took the other before sitting on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call,” she said. She took a long drink from the coffee and took a deep breath.

“You’re quite alright.” The guest fiddled with an unlit cigar. “You’ve been such a help for us. I’d love to return the favor any way I can, though I can’t say the same for your husband.”

“I know, but you’ll do it for me, right?” The woman looked up hopefully, holding her breath for the response.

“Ghosts are typically not something the Church helps with. Demons, sure-but ghosts?”

The priest set down the coffee mug and stood up, walking around the room and looking at the pictures that hung the walls. He stopped at the painted portrait of the Virgin Mary and sighed.

“Even if it was something we normally helped with, it’s been months.”

“I know.” The woman sniffled and set down her coffee mug to grab a fistful of tissues. “It’s just- I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m still scared of it coming back-it used this fire, and while it didn’t burn anything inside, it still was bright blue and real and- did you know the house that used to be here burned down? What if it was the ghost? We can’t afford to move again-what if it comes after us this time?”

“Calm down. Take a deep breath. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

The woman obeyed, taking in a lungful of air and holding it until the priest spoke again.

“Your family has been in our church for decades. I cannot emphasize this enough- this is not something we can normally do. But-“ He sighed and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I will do it for you, just for you, and just because it’s you.”

“Oh, thank you-“

The priest interrupted.

“I fully believe the ghost is no longer within this building. However, for your ease of mind, I promise I will track it down if it’s still on this plane and send it to its rightful place.”

He stuck the cigar in his mouth, chewing a bit at the mouthpiece while thinking. “Therefore, we need to know more about it. You said this place burned down before?”

“Yes. It was completely destroyed. The owner sold the property immediately after. We bought it from her and built the new house.”

“She might know something; I’d be happy to reach out to her and get this started. Do you happen to have her name?”

“I took out the house information as soon as I heard you were coming.” The woman responded.

She went to the dining room before returning with a handful of papers. She dug through them before coming across the deed.

“Oh! Here we go. That’s right.” She looked up and smiled at the priest, waving the sheet of paper.

“It was Ms. Donna Pierly.”

#ASJFKLSDHFLSADHGLSADKFLKSDAHGASBFKDSAKLFHSITESABFJLVFSSAIUFALSBJFKLSAJFHSDAHFLSDFJsd #ITS HERE #ITS HERE AND MY HEART HURTS NOW THANK U SO MUCH #I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE YOU AND I M SCREAMIN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #WHAT A GOOD STORY DUDE LIKE...SERIOUSLY #but also how dare you end it like that you MONSTER #friend art #fics #ghost jake #submission

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eilonwiiy · 4 years

Text

Bookends ; a Witchlands AU

Chapter 4

Aeduan returns to a place from his childhood and takes a big step that could shape his future with Owl...

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

* . * . * . * .

The room smelled just as it had 13 years ago.

Aeduan was surprised to see how little had changed. He spent much of his childhood in this room. Hiding between bookshelves and pouring over books when he should have been out playing with children his age. The shelves were exactly where he had left them. The carpet was the same faded shade of gray and blue, worn down from years of foot traffic, and probably in even more desperate need of cleaning than it had back then. Even the quiet, that had once set his mind at ease, felt familiar.

The only thing out of place was him.

Or perhaps not the only thing.

Upon entering, Aeduan’s gaze instantly landed on the girl behind the children’s desk. It was impossible not to. She was a black cloud in a world of color.

And she was staring at him.

Aeduan paused midstep when his eyes met hers. From this far away, it was hard to read her expression, but her body noticeably froze like a deer caught in the headlights. He could have sworn he saw recognition flash across her pale face. It confused him, but the moment didn’t last long. She almost immediately turned away, drawing her attention to the computer screen in front of her and began typing, as though he did not exist.

Aeduan didn’t contemplate it. He didn’t particularly want to inflict himself with inane chit chat that would come with acknowledging the librarian anyway. Maybe she was concerned having a grown man alone, without a child in tow, in the Children’s Room. Or perhaps she was scared to be alone with him. She could think whatever she wanted, he thought as he turned down one of the aisles, vaguely perusing the titles along the book spines. He wouldn’t be alone for long.

Aeduan’s eyes instinctively went to the place on the wall where he’d known the clock to be years ago and found it still there. If the clock was as untouched in the last 13 years as the rest of the room appeared to be, he guessed that it was still 4 minutes fast. Either way, Owl would soon be done with his old mentor and then he could take her home and get them out of here. He could stand 10 more minutes of uncomfortable silence with the gloomy librarian. He was a former cop; he’d faced worse.

Aeduan wandered the aisles for a few more minutes, half-heartedly examining the shelves. The steady tap of the librarian’s fingers along her keyboard punctured the silence. It was non-stop. And hurried. It grated Aeduan’s nerves for reasons he could not pinpoint. He hesitated by the play area - then, spared a glance over to where the sound was coming from and found the girl staring at her desktop, face devoid of anything. And yet, Aeduan could feel the intense concentration radiate off her, that crackled in the air with the frenetic movement of her fingers. Aeduan glowered. Either she was writing the world’s longest email or she was trying very hard to ignore him.

A collection of footsteps interrupted his speculating and drew his attention to the entrance of the room. Evrane appeared, today donning forest green and her silver hair pulled back as usual. Her face brightened in acknowledgement when she spotted Aeduan and she made her way towards him. Although he couldn’t see her, he could hear the tell-tale march of obstinate little feet and knew Owl must be there too. For some reason, he checked to see if the librarian was watching with this new arrival, but she was still focused hard on her screen, typing undiscouraged.

When they reached him, Owl stomped past Evrane, past Aeduan, and in a display of dramatics that can only be summoned by that of a 4-year-old, fell face first onto the largest bean bag chair with a mighty fwoof.

Aeduan stared at the lump, then turned to Evrane. Her face was infuriatingly serene.

“Let’s talk,” she merely said, all business, and she gestured to a small tabled sitting area closest to them.

Dread pushed against his chest, but Aeduan followed. He contemplated the miniature chair for a moment, then pulled it out and lowered himself awkwardly into it, his long limbs not sure what to do with themselves. A quick glance at Evrane and he saw that she appeared perfectly at home in her own child-sized chair, legs crossed at the ankles and swept off to the side. There was no way he would be able to fit his legs under the low-sitting table, but extending his legs to their full length in front of him seemed absurd. So with a grunt, he scooted his chair back from the table and planted his feet firmly on the ground, legs bent sharply in opposing directions. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together.

Evrane gave him a soothing smile that he knew well enough to know was meant to placate him. The dread grew heavier.

“Owl is a very special girl.”

Aeduan drew back and crossed his arms over his chest, decidedly uninterested in whatever other vague assessments Evrane had to offer. The withdrawal was not unnoticed by Evrane.

“She spoke very little, but her silence tells a vivid story.”

“Does it?” Aeduan deadpanned, devoid of any actual curiosity.

“It does,” Evrane replied calmly. “I suspect you would not have taken her in if you had not heard it too.”

Aeduan’s jaw ticked. Evrane went on.

“There is trauma, I doubt I need to tell you that. And without any knowledge of her past, we can only rely on her for understanding. It will take time. Patience. But if we take care to listen, if we give her room to heal-”

“And schooling?” Aeduan cut in.

Evrane offered a patient smile. More placating. “Children will grow at their own pace if you allow them to. You need not worry yourself over her lack of speech. It will come with time.”

Aeduan inhaled deeply, nostrils burning with frustration and anxiety rattling his lungs despite the assurance. How was he supposed to not worry? Talking wasn’t the problem. Owl could talk. Small words and simple sentences, but still - she could talk. No, it was who she talked to that was the issue. Ever since the night he found her, Aeduan was the only person Owl would speak to. That was beyond concerning - it was confusing. Illogical, in a way that shook Aeduan to his core.

Domestic violence calls were not unheard of in Dalmotti - though, not so frequent in a city as well-off as Venaza. What was unusual was to respond to an anonymous call, only to find the location deserted, and in place of a quarreling couple, walk in on a deserted child huddled in a closet.

Aeduan had been the first one to find her. The first one to reach out his hand to her and feel her tiny little fingers wrap around his own. She never said a word, just stared at him with those big brown eyes of hers, unquestioning when he brought her into his arms. He’d felt the soft pitter-patter of her heart then through his uniform, steady and unafraid against his chest, and he carried her through the chaos of his squad swarming into the apartment and out into the night. Through it all she he never took her eyes off him. She never made a sound.

Until she did.

She had cried, screamed, a horrible anguished sound, when he gently forced themselves apart and handed her off to a female officer at the station. Time had seemed to have caught up to her in that singular moment, the experience of the night rushing out of her in a torrent of agony. Her wails echoed through the halls of the precinct and long after she and the officer disappeared into one of the rooms.

And that was that. His job was done. It was up to Child Services now. He’d write up his report and move on to the next assignment.

But for some reason, he couldn’t.

“You’ve taken on quite a lot in these last few months, Aeduan,” Evrane said softly as though reading his mind. “It is normal to feel out of your depth. This is uncharted territory for you.” She huffed a laugh. “I admit, I was surprised when you told me the news. More surprised than I was to actually be hearing from you.” She paused, perhaps giving him a chance to defend himself. He didn’t.

“Do you have any thoughts as to where her parents are?”

Aeduan glanced over his shoulder to check if Owl was listening. She hadn’t moved. He shook his head.

“Dead, probably. Or they abandoned her, in which case they’re as good as dead. Either way they’re out of the picture.”

Evrane nodded silently. “You should know,” she said, taking on a more serious tone, “that adoption is a complicated business. The child may not end up in your care - despite your best efforts. Ragnor’s standing in the community can only get you so far. ”

Aeduan chewed this over, and though it caused his chest to tighten, he eventually admitted, “Then I will know it was not meant to be.”

Evrane arched one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “My, how things have changed if you are suddenly a believer of fate.”

She was teasing him, something she had often done when he was a child. But something about they way she looked at him as she said it made it feel like a jab.

“Will Owl see it that way?” she pushed further.

“She will have to,” he stated plainly, as if it were that simple. He stared hard at a spot on a shelf opposite him. “She will… get over it. She is strong. I have faith.”

“A man of fate and faith. Interesting, interesting...” Out of the corner of his eye, Aeduan could see Evrane shaking her head, evaluating Aeduan like she’d never seen him clearly before. Still, he sensed she was wielding something much more sinister against him. He jerked his head to address her dead on.

“Not interesting. Just the truth. We can’t control everything that happens in our lives. I learned that the hard way and I got over it. So will Owl.”

This declaration did nothing to ruffle Evrane, though it did manage to wipe the playfulness from her eyes. She regarded Aeduan carefully. The words that came next made him wish she’d stuck with her teasing. “Perhaps you have as much to learn from Owl as she has to learn from you.

“There is nothing I can teach her that she can’t learn elsewhere.”

“Then why take her in?” Evrane asked sharply, her tone suddenly hard. “Why abandon everything - your job, your father, your life - for this child? Why come to me, begging for help-”

“I did not beg,” Aeduan snarled low.

“No, you did not. But you think as much.” Evrane’s eyes darkened. “You waste precious time stumbling over your own pride. First, recklessly leaving the force, your stability, your dream. Then, trying to get this child into a preschool program, even when it was apparent no one would take her, and more importantly, that that environment was not suited for her. Wasting all this time on anyone who would hear you out when you should have come straight to me.”

Aeduan’s nostrils flared. “So you’re hurt that I didn’t come running to you? As I would have when I was a boy?”

“Not hurt. Only sad. Sad that after all this time, you’re still running away when nothing is chasing you.”

Despite sitting proud, Evrane’s entire being seemed to deflate. There was no malice in her words, and that alone gave Aeduan pause. He swallowed hard, silently seething. Anger mounted against his chest, demanding release... but he couldn’t bring himself to unleash it. Not like this.

Evrane sniffed and blinked the sentiment away. “Perhaps I failed you, Aeduan,” she said, a stab of bitterness piercing through the regret in those words. “In which case, you may have been right not to seek my help.”

Aeduan stared at her as she gracefully stood from her chair and smoothed out her immaculate skirt. She looked down at him, and he was suddenly transported to his boyhood. Alone and scared. Lost to a father lost in grief. Lost to mother who was lost for good...

Then Evrane came along.

Aeduan’s voice scraped against his throat when he spoke.

“So that’s it? You… you will not help her?” Help me?

Evrane remained quiet for a moment. Distantly, Aeduan registered that the typing behind him had stopped.

“That is not what I said,” she finally said.

There was nothing he could do to stop it: relief washed over Aeduan. He pushed up from his chair, and in his haste, knocked into the table, bumping it noisily across the floor several inches. Evrane’s lips twitched, but Aeduan did not care. He quickened to set the table back in place and stepped around it so that he was standing in front of Evrane. She needed to raise her chin to peer up at him.

“So,” Aeduan stated. He needed to make this official. “You will help her?”

“Is that what you want?” she countered lightly, as though she had not made up her mind yet.

Impossible woman. She was going to be the death of him. “I would not be here if I didn’t.”

“Hm,” Evrane only hummed, glancing away. When she looked back, her eyes were carved in a new light, one that did not bring warmth, but sought to cut through darkness. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

Aeduan tensed, surprised by the abrupt change in topic. “Since I left the force.” He wasn’t going to elaborate more than that.

“And your sisters?”

There was unmistakable accusation in her tone. Aeduan’s eyes turned to slits. “Last week. I pick them up from school on most Fridays.”

Evrane nodded, though continued regarding him with a measured look. “Well,” she said stiffly, “I’m glad to hear you have not forsaken everything.”

Aeduan’s stomach roiled. That was too far. As if he would ever let Ragnor get in between him and Cora and Lisbet. “Evrane-”

“I will not be able to see Owl every day,” Evrane cut in over what was sure to be something he would have regretted saying later on. He should have been grateful, but he only glared at her. “Though, I think that will be for the better. Silence can be just as draining as talking, as you are no doubt well acquainted with, and it will take time for her to learn to trust me. I will call you with the details once I’ve looked over my schedule.”

Aeduan swallowed everything he would have liked to say, cursing the Moon Mother, and managed a curt nod. Evrane peered around him.

“Goodbye, Owl,” she called gently, so different from the tone she’d only used seconds ago. “Thank you for spending the morning with me. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

The lump didn’t respond. However, Evrane nodded as though she had. As she turned to leave, her emerald eyes skated over Aeduan, and without offering any parting words, stalked away. He watched her go, the earlier relief that had filled him dwindling fast under his irritation. He supposed he would not be the only one parsing exchanged silences in the upcoming weeks.

Pushing that foreboding thought aside, Aeduan turned back to Owl and took a couple steps until he was hovering over her. He knelt down, the leather of his jacket creaking with the motion, and rested a hand on her back.

“Owl?”

At his touch, Owl squirmed around to face him, the foam beads of the bean bag crunching underneath her. Her face was red, either from being face down in the pillow for so long or because of pent up agitation. Probably both, if Aeduan had to guess

Her big teardrop eyes blinked up at him, and if it weren’t for the tousled hair and flushed chubby cheeks, he’d say she looked comfortable. He faintly made a mental note to get her one for his apartment. Their apartment.

“Home,” she murmured.

Aeduan nodded. “Yes.” He looked around the room. “Would you like to pick out a book to take home?”

Without moving, Owl’s eyes slowly rolled over the room, taking in her surroundings. They stopped on point beyond Aeduan, her pupils widening slightly. Without a word, she rolled off the bean bag, crawled onto her feet, shuffled over to a nearby display, and grabbed one of the books. She turned to Aeduan and held it up for him to see.

Aeduan’s brow pinched at the big black cat staring at him from the cover with bright yellow eyes. “That is for Halloween.”

Owl held the book a little higher as though he was not seeing it properly.

“Wouldn’t you like to read about something else?” he tried again.

Owl ignored him and tapped an insistent chubby finger on the cat. “Blueberry.”

Aeduan sighed. If he had known his apartment had come with a relentless stray cat, he would have said, ‘To hell with the free utilities!’ and torn up the lease.

The furry nuisance had turned up at their door the day after they moved in, scouting out the area, spying on who or what had invaded the once unoccupied apartment. At first Aeduan had shooed him away, settling on the couch that overlooked the outside in their new sparsely furnished living room and explaining to Owl the importance of keeping one’s distance from wild animals, how they could scratch or bite you or give you harmful diseases. Owl had watched with rapt attention as Adeuan pointed out the cat’s long tail and described the different things it could tell you by how it was moving. When she asked what it was saying right now, he’d traced the high held appendage in the air with his finger.

“Happy. He feels safe here,” he’d said.

Owl considered this a moment, nose scrunching a little as her eyes followed the trail of paw prints the cat left in the snow. Then, she turned to face Aeduan, cheek pressed into the cushion and declared, “I feel that way too,” then, slid off the couch and scampered off to the kitchen for “cat food”.

Since then, Blueberry, as the girl had named him, would not be deterred. And neither would Owl. She had fallen in love with the demon, ignoring all of Aeduan’s warnings not to.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Aeduan decided to ask one more time, even though he knew it was pointless. “There are a lot of other books here to choose from.”

As predicted, Owl only repeated stubbornly, “Blueberry.”

Aeduan sighed again and took the book from the child. Satisfied, Owl marched back over to the bean bag chair and plopped herself down, her part in this task complete.

Now it was Aeduan’s turn.

He walked over the children’s desk to where the librarian in black sat. She was back to typing intently again. When he approached her, she stopped and finally acknowledged him.

“Checking out?” she prompted, eyeing the book in his hand. Her voice was gentler than he was expecting. He nodded.

“I don’t have a library card.”

“Would you like to get one now?”

Aeduan bit back a retort. Of course, he wanted one now. How else would he get the book? “Please.”

The girl wet her lips, and though her expression was obscenely blank, he could tell she was thinking. Next to her, she pulled open a drawer and retrieved a slip of paper, along with a blank library card. She set them down between them, carefully smoothing out the paper with her hands. As she did so, Aeduan noticed her eyes darting across the form, as though she were reading it for the first time.

New. She must be new here. Seeing her up close, Aeduan saw she didn’t even have a name tag.

His earlier frustration dulled somewhat, and schooling his features in what he hoped was a patient expression, he watched her prepare the form. When warm hazel eyes looked up at him from behind her windswept black fringe, he did not look away.

“Do you have an I.D.?” she asked.

Something about the question was hesitant. Almost apologetic. It was such a strange thing, and even stranger when he felt reluctance to share his personal information with her. It was like she knew. Yet, he freed his wallet from his back pocket all the same. Opening it, he flipped past the school photos of Cora and Lisbet, slid his driver’s license out of one of the thin pockets, and handed it to the girl without comment.

She brought the card close to her face, reading it with the same intensity she had when she’d been working on the computer. A small line formed between her eyebrows, and as the seconds passed, apprehension crept up on Aeduan. New or not, she was taking more time reading over his personal information than was comfortable. Either she was being unapologetically nosy or worse, something was wrong.

“Is this your current address?” she finally asked, still staring at the card.

“No,” Aeduan answered honestly, instantly regretting it.

“Oh,” she said softly. The word rustled across his senses, a wisp of sound. The girl swallowed, but with a steady hand, held his driver’s license out to him

“I’m sorry, but I need something with your current permanent address on it. Like a bill or a lease. Or I can send you a postcard and when it’s delivered to you, you can bring it in as proof of residence.”

Aeduan stared at her. None of these options were to his liking, especially since all of them led to the same sorry outcome: Owl would not be getting her book today.

There was no hiding his vexation now, and in that moment, Aeduan didn’t care. And neither did the girl it seemed. Nothing registered across her face. She was seemingly unaware of his agitation. Even when he swiped his license out of her outstretched hand more aggressive than was necessary she did not flinch. Her face remained smooth as ever, a bright moon cradled by midnight hair.

It was... unsettling. And yet, familiar somehow.

He tore away from her before he could think on it further. But as he gathering Owl into his arms, her voice stopped him.

“Did you want that postcard?"

Aeduan paused. Then, without turning to face her, he grunted, “I’ll be back.”

“Alright,” he heard her murmur softly into nothing. The absence of her voice made the room suddenly sound much more quiet than it had before - and that’s when it truly hit him.

He would be coming back.

He had accepted Evrane’s help. This was real. This was happening.

Aeduan hefted Owl up in his arm, as he knelt down to retrieve her winter coat, the Halloween book tucked under his other. When he returned it to its display, Owl squirmed against his chest, reaching for it.

“We’ll read this another day,” he told her.

“Blueberry,” she protested, fingers fruitlessly grabbing at air as he walked them away.

“Another day,” he all but murmured into her hair, and when the tears he expected to come never came, he was grateful.

#the witchlands #witchlands #baeseult #iseult det midenzi #aeduan #evrane nihar #owl #truthwitch #bookends #mine #my fics

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years

Text

all i know is i wanna be here with you from now on

One month old babies are really great at sleeping at night, said no one ever.

Jake has a vague memory of a time where their bed was the perfect size for both him and Amy, but he’ll admit said memory is growing hazier by the day.

To be fair, they weren't planning on letting their newborn sleep in their bed. They had a clear and structured plan, outlined in the first of many parenting binders, of keeping their baby in her cot right next to Amy’s side of the bed for the first few months before transferring her over to her own room.

Then they actually became parents.

To a child that at exactly one month and three days of age refuses to fall asleep anywhere but on one of her parents, prefers sleeping that way, and will - if they're lucky - sometimes accept her baby nest at night, provided it's right in the middle of the bed with one parent on each side of it.

No matter how cozy it is to have her near, Jake has been doing an awful lot of googling on the pricing and reviews of king size beds lately.

He supposes a bigger bed wouldn't help him with the other issue keeping him from sleep. It's not been more than an hour since he kissed his wife goodnight and crept underneath the covers, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s forehead and watching her yawn in reaction before closing his eyes, and he's already wide awake after Leah woke him up screaming bloody murder right in his ear twenty minutes ago.

She's eaten now - to be fair, he agrees with her that being hungry’s the worst - but instead of going straight back to sleep like she can usually do after night feeds, she just won’t sleep. They’ve burped her, changed a diaper and played the white noise music which seems to always be sounding through their home nowadays, but the only thing that’s keeping their newborn from outright screaming is one parent walking around holding her to their chest, lightly bouncing her.

It’s not their first case of nights like these in their first, intense month of parenthood, but in contrast to the previous nights, Jake goes back to work tomorrow.

“You have to sleep”, Amy protested when he offered to do the soothing of crying baby. “You can’t go back to work without having slept.”

He protested back, arguing that he’s been sleep-deprived at work plenty throughout his career - the time he made Charles pretend to be a dead body and sprayed ketchup over his friend only one of many occasions - but she wouldn’t have it. She left the room with Leah for a few minutes, coming back with a seemingly sleeping baby whom she successfully transferred to the baby nest.

That was two minutes ago, not enough time for Jake to fall asleep again but apparently enough for Amy, and when the wailing starts anew, his wife straight out groans in frustration.

“I’ll get her”, he offers then, already sitting up in bed and lifting Leah to his chest the way that has become second nature by now. Amy mumbles something inaudible, likely attempting to stop him again, but he's left the room before she has the chance to do anything but go back to the sleep she so desperately deserves.

He walks a few laps around the living room before his daughter’s desperate cries subside, hushing and stroking her back through the purple striped pajamas until her face is no longer red from exertion, until she's quietly fussing rather than screaming her little lungs out.

For a seven-and-a-half-pound person, their kid sure has a powerful voice.

“It would be a lot easier if you could talk, you know”, he whispers to her when they move from the living room to the nursery. “Tell us what’s wrong. Think you can work on that?”

The request gives him another upset cry. He reads it as a negative response.

Jake sits down with her in the comfortable combined arm and rocking chair the Santiago family gracefully gifted to them, hoping she’ll accept the slight change and taking a deep breath of relief when she does. One of her fists grab onto his t-shirt, and she’s not falling asleep, but she’s calming down.

Right now he’s ironic when he asks her to speed up growing. Though he could pee his pants with excitement over what it will be like to have a kid that walks and talks and sleeps more than two hours at once, time is swooping by at an alarming rate as is. He’s been a dad for one, short, intense month, and already Leah is an inch longer, a pound and a half heavier, a little less terrifyingly fragile in his arms. She sleeps and eats at what vaguely resembles a schedule, has mastered the art of nursing without making both Amy and herself cry and is starting to accept him feeding her with a bottle. Every day there seems to be a new noise, a new grimace, a new way to move her arms and accidentally hit herself in the face, and every day his already overpowering love for her grows.

Jake's almost about to consider his mission of calming a fussy baby successful when he notices her doing a too-sharp inhale. Barely able to brace himself for the inevitable, he listens to her cry out another time, heartbreaking and loud enough for neighbors to hear. He stands up with her again, rocking, trying to see if the combination of movement and the unicorn lovey from her crib can make her relax. He then fights the temptation to make a full-on victory gesture when it, eventually, does. There's a display of framed pictures hanging over the crib, and he stops in front of it, watching them without giving up the gentle rocking.

Two ultrasound pictures - one from the first time they got to see and hear a fluttering heartbeat on the screen, one from later on when they could see a spine and legs and arms and the cutest little nose in profile. A black and white newborn picture, Leah just hours old, in between. A selfie they took with one of the positive pregnancy tests, grinning at each other in disbelief. One picture each of them holding her, looking equally in awe of this little person that's now keeping them up at night. A piece of quote art Jake found on Etsy, saying you are the best thing that's ever been mine.

He has to get up for work in five hours, and even if he does get any sleep tonight it’s not going to be enough - yet as he hears a somewhat content sigh from Leah and sees her yawn, he can’t make himself care. Though he was well aware he’d love his kid to the moon and back, he worried and fretted about whether he could have inherited his own father’s crappy parenting skills. He’s still unsure about a lot of things, but as he sits back down in the armchair and draws up his legs so she can lay against his thighs, and she stretches out her arms over her head to then hit herself on the nose when they come back, gasping with surprise, he’s certain a lack of love is not the problem.

“I hope you know we love you”, he tells her, trying to flatten the dark hair that prefers sticking up like a mohawk. “It’s hard to know sometimes. But I really hope so.”

“I love you”, he assures her another time, her hands gripping onto both of his index fingers as he all but attacks her with kisses across her belly and face. She scrunches her nose and forehead slightly, but accepts, used to it at this point. “Your mom loves you, your grandparents, all your friends - aunt Rosa and aunt Gina, uncle Terry, your uncle Charles probably loved you before you even existed at all, grandpa Holt…” Jake smiles at the memory of his captain visiting them in the hospital their second day there, remembering how he’d been impressed by his daughter for putting an actual smile on the usually so dead-pan man’s face in mere seconds.

“You’re a very loved kid.”

Leah grunts to this. He decides to interpret it as agreement.

When she starts fussing yet another time, he sings to her. It’s mostly Taylor Swift songs, mixed with a mellow version of I Want It That Way - whatever’s playing inside his head in the middle of the night. Even with his mediocre singing voice, singing to her has become one of his favorite things to do just because he adores her reaction to it. She'll stare at him in awe, take on an expression like she's actually listening, sometimes trying to wave and kick to the melody.

Had someone told him a year ago that this is why’d he be awake at 2.30 a.m., Jake's certain he would have laughed, but now it seems the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey there.”

He's halfway through an acapella version of Long Live, Leah's eyes opening and closing like she's about to fall asleep but stopping herself from doing so, when he hears Amy's voice. She's leaning against the doorframe, wistful smile on her lips looking at them, and he wonders quietly to himself how on Earth she manages to make one month postpartum and the old oversized NYPD shirt she uses for pajamas look a million dollars. “Is she sleeping yet?”

“Nah. World’s too interesting.” He jokefully narrows his eyes at Leah, saying the next words with over-the-top enthusiasm. “But you know what happens when you don’t sleep? You get overtired! And I’m pretty sure you enjoy that even less than we do!”

She gives him a blank stare, and if she’d been a snarky teenager and not a one-month-old infant, Jake imagines she’d be saying something like yeah, so what and stomp off to slam her bedroom door.

Amy snorts before sitting down on the long-pile rug next to the armchair. “You should go to sleep”, she coerces, squeezing his thigh. “Both of you, but especially the one who has work tomorrow. I’m serious.”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine, Ames. Really. I’ll miss her like hell tomorrow, anyway.”

“I get it.” She nods, caressing one of Leah’s fists. “But you’ll be okay. I’ll text you updates.”

“Every half hour?”

“What she’s doing, how she’s doing, pictures, film clips”, she assures him. “All of it. Plus you’ll be home early.”

“Still too long”, he mumbles.

“I know.”

Leah begins to whimper, and their focuses shift instantly back to her. Jake stands up with her, starting the rocking and bouncing anew for what feels like the twentieth time that night.

“She's going to miss you too, you know”, Amy whispers. “We both are.”

“Well, I’ll miss you two more, so I'm winning.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a soft affection to it. He supposes she is the one person who could tell him she loves him with an eye-roll of all things.

Leah yawns, her little hands moving again in an attempt to grip his t-shirt, and then she finds one of his arms and it's like he's being carefully hugged by a twenty-inch, not-yet-eight-pounds body. It’s the actual sweetest thing he's seen tonight.

He tears up; of course he tears up. That's pretty much what he does in life now, but it's okay, because Amy's doing the same watching them, wiping hormone-fuelled tears away with the back of her hand.

“The only thing better than her”, she says, voice hushed, “is seeing you with her. It's the best thing I know.”

“I just want to do a good job.”

“You already are.”

“I have to leave her for a full day tomorrow. ”

“You're going to be okay, Jake.”

Easy for you to say, he wants to argue. You get to stay home all day looking after our daughter and reading through study material for the lieutenant’s exam. But 2.30 a.m. is not the peak time to be jealous of their daughter’s physical dependence on Amy, so he stays quiet.

The whole room is near silent, save the white noise machine still playing from its place in the shelf, when he realizes.

“Ames, I think she's sleeping.”

Leah's eyes are closed, the fussing finally ceased, and he's scared to say the words out loud in case she’ll be screaming against the next second, but she doesn't and Amy's eyes widen in awe.

“God, you're amazing.” She stands up, kissing his cheek and giving the snoozing infant the amazed, infatuated look he's seen near daily on his wife's face for a month now. “Now let's go back to sleep before she wakes. Quick.”

Amy's out like a light soon as her head hits the pillow. He stays awake a few more minutes, watching his daughter, the way her little chest rises and falls, the way her miniature fingers twitch when she's dreaming.

Tomorrow, he's going to go do the job he's actually hired for, the job which used to be his everything at one point in time and the job he has missed, if only slightly, this month.

He's almost dreading it, this ocean of time away from the person who gave him the job title seeming much more important to him now, but he's doing it anyway.

He has to save up for that king-size bed somehow.

#it's been so long since i wrote baby fic but here it is finally #so meandering #my writing #peraltiago fic #baby fic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #jake peralta #b99 fanfiction

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rcvcngcrs · 4 years

Text

12 Days of Christmas

First Day of Christmas - Chapter 1 of 12

“Robert! Slow down!” You yelled at him from the back seat of his Audi. There were some assholes who decided it was funny to hit the brakes in front of you all.

“Y/N, I know what I’m doing.” He told you with confidence.

“Well that doesn’t make it right.” Tom said, sitting next to you in the back. Benedict, who was sitting on your right, was glaring at Robert. Chris was wide eyed and grabbing the sides of the car.

“Tom is absolutely right. Now please, Robert, slow down!” Chris said frantically.

“Why? Why must you do this?” You yelled at him again. “I don’t want to be dead for Christmas!” He was ignoring all of you now.

“I second that!” Tom grabbed the handle, and everyone hummed in agreeance. Robert groaned.

“Just let me get passed them and leave them safely behind us.” You and Chris rolled your eyes and Tom and Benedict put their heads in their hands sighing. Robert began speeding even more to race up to them.

“Oh my God, I’m going to die.” You said under your breath. Robert had made it behind the assholes and was now speeding more to go around them. Robert managed to pull up next to them in the opposite lane, looked the assholes dead in the eyes, and began racing them. The assholes sped up to Robert and they began racing down the road, with Robert in the wrong lane. You were now repeating ‘I’m going to die’ under your breath as if it was a mantra.

“Y/N! You are not going to die! Now shut up, so I can concentrate!” How dare he speak to you like that.

“You don’t have the right to speak to me like that Robert!” You were even more angry at him than before.

“I do actually. It’s called freedom of speech, babe.” You practically had steam coming out of your ears now. His confidence level was high now that he was racing someone down the road. This was his insane idea of fun.

“Robert, slow down! Quit your arrogance! And pull the damn car over!” You were fuming, and if he ever pulled the car over you were going to jump him.

“You can’t tell me what to do, hun!” He was grinning and you suddenly had the urge to slap him across the face. You guys were long gone from the assholes by now.

“Pull this damn car over before I slap that shit eating grin off of your pretty face!” You about had it with Robert. Chris, Tom, and Benedict had no idea what to do or say. They had never seen you this angry since you found your ex boyfriend in bed with another girl. But that’s another story, so let’s just say Tom and Benedict had to pull you off of his wimpy ass, while Chris held his laughter at how afraid he was of you.

Robert groaned. “Why must you ruin all the fun?”

“This is what you call fun?” You were practically screaming at him. “This, Robert, is not fun. This? This is what you call looking for disaster!” He groaned again. “Robert I swear to God! Pull this damn car over!”

Chris turned to Robert. “Robert, just pull the car over.”

“What’s the magic word?” He was messing with you. You had no idea how he could be teasing you while speeding down the road.

“Please, God damnit!” You were still yelling at him.

“The magic word was actually America’s ass, but please works fine.” He was laughing at his teasing.

“Robert I wouldn’t push it.” Tom was utterly nervous about what you were going to do if he kept it up. Robert clicked his tongue and slowed down. He pulled the car over and put the gear in park.

“Excuse me Tom, can you please let me out?” He looked at you as if he knew what you were going to do. You turned to Benedict. “Ben, can you let me out please?” He sighed. “Benedict.” You groaned at Tom and Ben’s stubbornness. “Fine.” You crawled over Benedict and stumbled out of the car. You straightened your shirt and stomped to the drivers door. Robert smiled at you when you knocked on the window. He rolled down the window and gave a low chuckle.

“Yes officer?” You rolled your eyes. “Is there anything I can do to make this a warning, officer?” You crossed your arms and were about to speak, but Robert spoke again first. “I’m willing to do anything. Anything at all.” He said in a seductive tone.

“Get out.” Robert furrowed his eyebrows. “Get your ass out of the car.” You were gritting your teeth. Robert flung the door open and slung it shut with another shit eating grin.

“Are you going to handcuff me, officer?” You began to lunge at him, but Tom opened his door separating you from Robert.

“Y/N don’t do anything you are just going to regret later.” Tom said with pleading eyes.

Benedict and Chris got out of the car and walked around the front of the car.

“Y/N, let’s just get back on the road.” Benedict spoke up.

“Yeah, guys c’mon. Let’s just get back to finding the so called perfect Christmas tree we were looking for.” Chris was more calm than Tom and Ben, they were clearly nervous. You were about to give in and get back on the road, but Robert just had to open his smartass mouth.

“C’mon put your big girl panties on, and let’s get going.” He said with a smirk.

“If you’re going to be a smartass, Robert, you have to be smart, otherwise you’re just an ass.” He laughed at your remark. “Move please, Tom.” You began walking towards him, but Tom stopped you with his long arms. “Tom, just let me..” Before you could make Tom move a truck slowed and rolled down their window.

“You guys need any help?” They asked politely. And as soon as Tom was distracted, you ducked down and around Tom, heading straight for Robert. He backed up towards the snow covered ground. You lunged at Robert and threw yourself on him, causing him to fall backwards in the snow, with you on top. You held your hands on his throat and threatened to squeeze.

“I’ll do it. I really will.” He was still smirking at you.

“No you won’t babe.” He needs to stop with these nicknames. “You know, we are in a very compromising position.” You shoved a fist in his chest earning a grunt.

“Oh I could. And I really would.” Tom, Ben and Chris watched the scene play out. “But I won’t.” You took your hand off his throat, but kept the other hand balled into a fist on his chest.

“Is it bad I’m getting turned on by this?.” There he goes again with the teasing remarks. You were so frustrated with him you wanted to punch his face.

"You frustrate me so much, Robert." He smirked.

"Sexually?" Oh you were going to hurt him now. Tom walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you the 'don't do it' stare. You got off Robert and stood up. Chris was done with Robert's mouth and sat back in the car. When Robert was standing you shoved him back down in the snow. Tom was standing on your right, and Benedict walked up to the other side of you.

"I hate you." You told him.

"Hate is a strong word." You didn't hate him. You were extremely mad at him though. The three of you had your arms crossed glaring down at Robert in the snow. There were snowflakes in his hair, and his cheeks were turning pink from the cold. You could see each other's breath. You sighed.

"You're lucky she didn't beat you up with her tiny fists." Tom said giggling. Benedict joined his giggling and you turned to Tom.

"Tiny fists or not, I can severely hurt anyone of you." You went to the trunk of the car and grabbed your coat and handed everyone else their coats. You walked over to where Chris was in the car and told him to come out. Handing him his coat he trudged over to Robert still sitting in the snow.

"Is your ass frozen yet?" Chris laughed at Robert.

"As a matter of fact, yes." He took a handful of snow and threw it at Chris, but missed and it hit you. You yelped and turned around to meet a slightly scared Robert. "Oops?"

You stomped over to the snow and made a quick snowball. "Alright boys, let's have a little snowball fight." You turned back around to Tom, Ben, and Chris, who all had a snowball in hand. "Whaddya say?" Ben threw his snowball at you, and yours back at him. Tom threw his at you, and Chris threw his at Robert. Robert reciprocated at Chris, and then you tumbled over Robert, who was still sitting on the cold ground. Robert jumped up and helped you up. You bent down to get a snowball, and felt one hit you in the back. You turned to see all the boys wiggling their eyebrows with snowballs in both hands. You took off running in the field of snow, with them hot on your heels. There was a single skinny tree in the field, and you headed towards it. You were out of breath and leaned against the back of the tree, waiting for impact. No impact came. You peeked around the tree while puffs of your breath came out in the air. And there stood the boys, all with smug grins. You yelped and ducked to the ground to make a few snowballs. You stood up and slowly backed away from the boys. They followed you and got into a throwing position and just before they could throw their snowballs, you kicked up snow in the air, blocking their view. You chucked the snowballs you had, and heard small wails from the impact. You were suddenly hit with multiple snowballs. The boys came running around you, circling you like sharks would to prey. You were giggling at their intense, competitive faces. You lunged at Chris, who dodged you. You turned to Benedict, stopped dead in your tracks and smirked. You bounded at Benedict and tackled him onto the cold ground. Tom and Chris grabbed your biceps attempting to get you off Ben, but you clamped your legs around him. Tom and Chris stumbled at the unexpected action, tripped over Benedict’s legs, and fell into the snow. Tom fell more on you and Chris’ face fell in the snow. Robert held his stomach laughing at what he just witnessed. Chris grabbed a big handful of snow and hurled the large snowball at Robert, hitting him in the shoulder.

“The Super Soldier just fell on his ass, because…!” He laughed even louder. “Because Y/N used her legs to hold on to Cucumber!” He was laughing so hard now, he tumbled to the ground still holding his stomach. “I wish I caught that on camera. That was priceless!” You all began laughing at Robert’s hysterical laughter. You could feel Tom and Ben’s rumbling laughter against you, which only caused you to laugh harder.

“I think - think we are getting sick.” You were catching your breath. “Because we have never, I mean never, have laughed this hard before.” You slid away from Ben and laid in the snow between Tom and Ben. Chris sat up holding his now hurting stomach. “It has to be connected to hypothermia, that I am sure we are developing.” Once the laughing died down, you realized how far away from the car you all were. “Oh my.” You looked to all of them. “The car is like a mile away.” The boys looked in the direction of your sight, and saw Robert’s Audi that looked like an ant from there.

“We better get back before we do actually catch hypothermia.” Benedict said as he stood up. All the boys were standing, but you began making a snow angel as the snow fell from the sky. “Come on Y/N, you are going to get sick.”

“Oh come on Cucumber. I thought we were having fun.” You sat up and sighed. “Fine.” Tom helped you up and you hopped back around to face them. “Last one to the car has to host the grandest Christmas party ever!” You darted through the white field, towards the car and the boys were right behind you.

Chris made it to the car first, and then Tom and Ben made it just after. You made it to the car seconds later and Robert was walking. He was already hosting a Christmas party and said it was unnecessary to run. You all packed in the car and got situated. Chris was back in the passenger seat, Robert was the driver, and you were back between the two handsome Brits.

“Robert, you better promise Y/N you will drive carefully.” Tom told him.

“Not just Y/N, promise all of us.” Chris chimed in.

“Agreed. Please don’t drive like a maniac, Robert.” Ben gave him a glare.

“Alright, alright. I will drive carefully.” Robert said mockingly, with his hands up in defense. Once Robert had made sure everyone had their seatbelts on, he dramatically took off slowly and headed to the tree farm.

Robert had finally pulled into the Christmas tree farm. “Robert, you didn’t have to go that slow.” Chris told him.

“I was not going that slow.” Robert responded.

“Yes you were Robert. An 80 year old lady passed you!” You said laughing. You all got out of the car and headed for the trees. “So pretty.” You said, admiring the trees. Robert came up next to you.

“Thank you.” He said smugly and you rolled your eyes.

“I think she was talking about me.” Chris squeezed between you and Robert, pushing Robert away from you.

“I don’t think so. She was definitely talking to me.” Benedict came up in front of you.

“You all know she was most definitely not talking about any of us. We all have disheveled hair, our ass’s are soaking from the snow, we have dirt stains on our coats, and we have coffee breath.” You were laughing your ass off, now that Tom had pointed out their messy state. They all still looked pretty, even with dirt stains and messy hair, especially Benedict and Tom. They had sharp cheekbones and the fluffiest curly hair. All the boys had very nice jawlines, and extremely beautiful eyes. You had stopped laughing, and was looking at all of them in admiration. Benedict waved his hand in front of you and you blinked out of your thoughts. Your face flushed bright red, looked to the ground, and walked away from the boys.

You cleared your throat. “This one’s pretty. What do you think Robert?” He smiled and walked over to the tree you were looking at.

“It is nice, a little smaller than what I was going for, but nice.” He said.

“Smaller? Robert it’s like eight feet tall!” Chris exclaimed.

“What size tree are you looking for Robert?” Tom asked, confused as to where the hell he would be able put it.

“That’s not eight feet. That’s like 6 feet.” Robert laughed. “The ceiling where I’m going to put the tree is about 12 feet tall, so a tree eight to ten feet tall is what I was going for.” Robert explained.

“How about that one over there?” Benedict spoke up. Robert hummed and walked over to the very large tree.

“Wow.” You were amazed at the fresh, green color it had, and how it was almost too perfect. “You have to get this tree, Robert.”

“It’s perfect.” Robert said, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey Robert?” Chris grabbed his attention.

“Yeah Chris?” Robert responded.

“Did you bring a saw?” Robert’s eyes widened.

“Oh shit.” Robert forgot a damn saw.

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

Christmas Time is Here! Hope you all enjoyed!

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corellianangel · 5 years

Text

Lollipop

For @otterandterrier Scoundress Saturdays prompt - “I’m not staring at you eating your popsicle // I’m not eating my popsicle all suggestive-like to make you stare” ...In which the popsicle is replaced by a lollipop in this story.

Rating: M (below the cut)

Timeline: Star Wars rebellion era, Empire Strikes Back. Millennium Falcon interior, the trip to Bespin

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A dense cloud of steam billowed from the ship’s engine hold. Beyond the plume of vapor, could be heard the crisp curse of a human male and the animalistic howl of a Wookiee’s outrage. The golden-plated protocol droid C-3PO - fussed, interfered and complained incessantly; rarely providing useful information. Klaxons rang throughout the freighter. Crimson emergency lighting flashed over the ribbed bulkheads. As the ship’s captain would put it, currently; “All hell was breaking loose.”

Princess Leia tucked down the tails of the Millennium Falcon’s captain’s shirt in under her buttocks, crossed her bare legs, stuck her lollipop in her mouth, and used her toe to push away from the engineering console, spinning in place on her stool. Every second rotation, she noted the numbers on the data-output; some red, most yellow, a couple in the green. Leia sighed, popped the candy out of her mouth and gave it a long suffering and critical look.

Assigned to status monitoring duty, on the narrow stool next to the aft engineering station, Leia was within sight of the flurry of activity in the engine hold. Hours earlier, the ship’s cooling lines erupted, threatening to overheat their backup hyperdrive – a plodding one-shot emergency drive they were using instead of the Falcon's temperamental, delicately tuned, military-grade hyperdrive. If their backup gave out, the ship likely would take centuries to reach the closest port, and the crew would all be dead of dehydration or starvation long before arrival.

Nothing to worry about though, Sweetheart, the princess silently informed the generously sized lollipop. Leia had secured the sugary treat a couple of nights earlier in an incredibly intense sabacc card game. Top prize was the citrus and cream candy sucker, found in the bottom of a storage bin – age: unknown, but hell... it was merely processed sugar anyway. So the trio gambled for it, since a single lollipop could not be fairly distributed like a bag of crisps.

Leia resumed spinning on her stool in a leisurely circle, sucking indulgently at her sweet taste of victory. She mentally repeated the Falcon’s captain’s reassurance upon the instance of the ship’s various alarms blaring earlier. Everything’s gonna be fine, Princess.

Leia snorted. As if. It didn’t take a battle-hardened politician like Leia, to see through Han’s dismissive reassurances.

To bolster Leia’s pessimistic opinion of the state of the ship, and possibly their fate – there was another opaque burst of coolant steam. The corridor filled with bluish white clouds and the high-pitched scream of burst piping. As if in harmony, the roar of a Wookiee accompanied the venting steam. Then the sputtering sharp-tongued response of the captain.

Leia twirled the pop in her mouth. Abruptly, two of the alarms were either shut off, or had simply died. Nothing on the ship appeared to function reliably, it seemed. Her gaze flicked to the status readout. Leia groaned inwardly. Still critical.

Chewbacca’s roaring carried on for some time, along with the distant tinny responses from the captain. The steam abated further to a degree, the cacophony calmed somewhat, and there were skeptical assents. More clattering of tools and then Han’s curt “Hang on a minute. I’ll check.”

Musing idly about how long repairs would take yet, Leia traced the circumference of the lollipop. It was - initially- of fairly substantial size, tinted to represent the peel and pith of a non-descript citrus fruit. And the flavor of fruit - even artificial - after months of rationing onboard this crippled wreck, was something Leia didn’t realise she absolutely needed.

She might have to pull her blaster on the boys if they ever found any real fruit onboard during this ridiculous trip.

“Mmmm.” Leia allowed the edge of the treat to rest against her bottom lip. She exhaled, closing her eyes to better visualize it as actual fruit. And at this point, anything would suffice.

Socorran lemon. Mar-fruit. Oh yessss - maybe...maybe Festian lime.

“Mmmm.” Leia repeated once more, at the succulent recollections.

Chewbacca’s complaints suddenly interrupted Leia’s thoughts. The Wookiee bellowed in irritation, calling for his captain. Leia’s brows furrowed, struggling mightily to maintain her fantasizing despite the noise. She startled, as Chewie raucously called for Han once more. Two more times, followed by a death threat against the captain, and Leia’s concentration and motivation just broke. She cursed under her breath and made to find Han. As she rose off the stool toward the door, she stopped dead.

Han was leaning rather exhaustedly against the hatch. His hand wrapped around the edge of the door, clinging to it as if he was about to be swept away. Mouth agape, he just stared at Leia.

Leia considered Han’s expression, “Captain?” She was torn between teasing the Rebel smuggler, or scolding him to get back to work. “You have a ship to repair, yes?”

Han continued to gape dumbly.

A weird silence followed, and feeling something off, Leia flushed and licked at the dribble of sugar collecting at the edge of her mouth, using her finger to subtly remove the rest.

Han sucked in his breath, gasping as if he’d been robbed of lung capacity. He gestured weakly at Leia, and struggled to speak.

Oh gods. Did she have some on her face too? Leia felt the mortified blush spread from her inflamed cheeks to nape to chest. As she checked her person for more dribbles, she caught a sticky strip on her wrist and sucked the offending sugar smear off.

Han appeared to sigh and meld into the frame of the doorway further.

Leia blinked at him. And then it dawned.

Oooh…

Han’s subsequent lost expression was about the cutest thing she’d ever seen. And Leia misplaced whatever shred of logic, decency or self-restraint she’d had a minute ago. Or before that, or well…whatever.

Han opened his mouth to speak, until Leia - opting for rather mischievous; curiously, deliberately, very deliberately ran the top edge of the lollipop against the base of her lip while gazing directly into Han’s gleaming green-gold eyes.

Han’s knees slackened to a point where Leia was concerned that he might fall to his knees in some form of prostration, and his jaw appeared to want to follow suit.

There was a clank, a wookiee’s bark of outrage, and new pitch of escaping steam from the engine room.

In the distance, Chewbacca detailed a holo-worthy version of how he was going to dismember his captain, if Han did not garner an appearance – immediately.

The copilot then promised removal of certain parts of Han’s anatomy, that Leia had admittedly grown extremely fond of in the last two months.

“I think Chewie wants you.” Leia reminded Han dryly.

Han shook his head dreamily, “He’s got it under control. Don’t need me. Threepio is pretty good helping out too.”

“Now that’s the absolute, worst lie, I have ever heard you tell.”

Han feigned shock, his hand going to his heart, lips pursed and brows peaked in mock innocence.

C3PO’s distant nattering to Chewbacca grew to an elevated pitch, that ended in a robotic squeal of terror. Leia’s brows rose in wonderment as the prissy protocol droid then scuttled past, begging to not be disassembled. Han jerked back into the present crisis, and swore colorfully. More than just mildly amused, Leia gave him a small wave goodbye as the more familiar scowling countenance and grease-streaked (oh - and sweaty, and lean, and tan, and, and..) form of Captain Solo blinked out of his stupor, and stalked after C3PO, threatening methodical, deliberate, and gradual disassembly by Han’s hydrospanner.

Left alone for the moment, Leia pouted at the lollipop.

We might die sooner, rather than later. Oh, but we all know the hated protocol droid will outlive us all, the princess mused ironically, languidly sucking at her lollipop in conclusion.

Nearly purple with rage, Han had returned from the opposite direction, pushing a protesting C3PO before him. He was swearing at the droid in an unfamiliar guttural tongue - Huttese, in all likelihood. Whatever language it was, it had an impressive arsenal of threats and insults it seemed, as C-3PO absolutely did not want to be tossed back onto that hellpit of Tatooine and sold to the Hutts and, and, and, and... Then the droid was forced around the corner, out of Leia’s line of sight, wailing and complaining as if its photoceptors were being torn from it. Leia craned her neck to follow the pair, witnessing them disappear into the once-again expanding cloud of vapor that was emitting from the engine chamber.

Was it green now?

When no-one emerged immediately, and the relative chaos of work sounds resumed, Leia spun the chair again, retracing the edges of the lollipop with her tongue. The occasional glimpse at the gauges confirmed that the hyperdrive’s coolant pressures were levelling off. Leia pushed off with her toe from the console once more, closed her eyes and dropped her head back, feeling the blood rush to her skull as she spun. Lightheaded and vision blurred, Leia slowly righted at the end of her rotation, letting her head loll comfortably on the pivot of her neck. She was reminded of being a child in the palace gardens on Alderaan, spinning in place with her best friend Winter. Whirling, giggling and challenging each other until they collapsed, dizzy, dirty and nauseous amidst the sweet scent of grasses and mountain wildflowers.

She wondered what Winter would have thought of Han.

Time passed, and the crew toiled to repair the ship. Leia chose not to check the chrono, as it would be far too depressing. She suspected the boys were well aware of the passage of shifts, though they continued on like heroes. At one point Leia realized it had been some time since anybody had threatened to dismember someone else (usually Threepio) – that she spotted Chewie headed in the direction of the ship’s refresher facilities. Leia studied the ship’s monitors, noting the reflection of the woman opposite. Early twenties, petite pale human female, chestnut hair done up in a braid that brushed the bottom of her buttocks. Weeks of rest, regular sleep and meals aboard this wounded, crawling vessel she was forced to take refuge on, had transformed Leia’s features from hollowed and wan, to blushing and bright. A smile now often stood in place of what had been a grim, taut line of battle on a bereaved princess that had witnessed the destruction of her home planet, and was now a twenty-three year old seasoned general in a galactic revolution.

Leia had indeed changed.

And there was a glint - an emotion there. One Leia wouldn’t have recognized two months ago; happiness - love even. Leia gave that girl in her reflection a secret, meaningful look, I know why you’re smiling.

Laughing to herself, Leia stuck the lolly in her mouth, shut her eyes, spun and allowed the chair to naturally slow to a stop. The dizziness swept through her, and the blood rushed in her ears once more. Then suddenly, the lollipop was plucked from where it hung between her lips. Leia’s head jerked up, visibly offended. Vertigo almost claimed her as a result.

“Hey!”

Captain Han Solo stood across from her, arms crossed, leaning against the ship’s bulkhead, Leia’s lollipop bulging in his cheek. The toolbelt around the smuggler’s hips rode his bloodstripes low, the upper crest of his hips’ bones visible and utterly tempting above the beltline. Han wiped his hands on possibly the filthiest rag Leia had ever seen. His once-white tank top was scarcely better, and Han’s exposed skin was flushed with heat, slickened with sweat, and blackened with trails of grease. Han gave her his most impish look, noisily rolling Leia’s treat around his back teeth.

“That’s mine!” Leia cried. She made a swipe for the candy. Han tilted his body out of reach with the speed of a born gunfighter, lithe and lightning quick, chuckling at her efforts.

“Thought I’d borrow it for a minute.” Han grinned. The smuggler twisted away once more, and Leia’s fingers caught on the double-prong belt that circled his hips. Han stepped sideways theatrically as she dragged him closer. Leia used to hate the fact he made her laugh with his antics. The last few weeks had altered her opinion on that. He made her human. Made her safe, comfortable. Made her feel (and feel loved, even).

Especially, he made her smile. Often. And that was important.

“Thief! Scoundrel!” Leia snagged Han’s shirt front with her other hand. Han mock-struggled as Leia pulled, eventually nestling in a spot by her knees. The moisture from the labor, steam and overheated drive fluids ran in rivulets down the slope of his exposed shoulders, and in wider lines down the sinewy contours of his bared arms. Leia traced her upper lip with her tongue, taking in this very delectable human treat in front of her. She oh-so wanted to—

Oh, but he was so filthy.

Leia released her hold on Han’s belt, instead tracing a line down the prominent ridge of the vein on his bicep, leaving a trail of clean, tanned skin. Han’s teeth ground around Leia’s sabacc prize. He edged in closer and waggled his eyebrows at the princess flirtatiously. Grinning, Leia ducked, fixing him with a warning tone, then booped him in the nose reproachfully. “You are incredibly dirty.”

Han’s speech, lisping around the lollipop, echoed through the metal confines of the engineering alcove, “sDidn’t bother you earlier, Shweetheart.”

No? Yes, she had to admit that it hadn’t. In fact, Leia was beginning to enjoy Han in varying states of disarray, disorder, unshaveness, and undress. And filth...Oh so very, very much.

The Princess reeled Han in further by the fabric of that awful stained tank top. Drawn in by the promise behind those emerald, copper and gold eyes. She got him close enough, to feel the breath expelled from his nose on her periphery. Han gave her a side-eye.

“I am actually very dirty,” declared the Corellian. “But Chewie’s in the sonic shower right now. And I’d rather straighten up, than deal with a tired and pissed-off, coolant-soaked wookiee.”

“Is it ‘done?’” Leia referred to the repair, then made a quick grab for the lolly’s stick in Han’s mouth. Han merely, deftly shied away again.

Thief!

“Done as it can be. Got Threepio cleaning up the tools too,” he smugly replied. Han sucked at thinning lolly thoughtfully. And, watching Han, having him so close, and so obscenely rugged looking; Leia’s imagination began to drift down a path, that would end up with Han and her most definitely not getting clean.

Scoundrel, Leia thought at Han fondly.

“Really?” Leia complained, attempting to carry on some vestige of acceptable conversation. “Can’t you find something less menial for Threepio to do? He can’t manipulate his hands that well. It’ll take him forever!”

Han twitched, “Forever? My! What a shame, your Highnessness.” Han dove into an imitation of Threepio’s haughty core-world voice. Shaking her head at him, though smiling broadly as she did; Leia gave Han’s shirt a sharp tug, leaning in invitingly. Han refused to retreat this time, and Leia plucked the lollipop from his mouth. Han began to object when Leia closed the distance and pressed her lips to his instead. Han’s two days growth of facial hair was rough against her chin and cheek, but the taste of that mouth and the way his tongue twisted with hers...

Gods, he was dirty. Dirty, sweaty and delicious.

Tucking her lollipop behind her back with one hand, Leia hauled at Han’s shirt, her nails inadvertently ripping a fist-sized section of dingy white fabric loose on the upper edge of his abdominals. Han initially objected with a “Hey!” ...until Leia planted her mouth on his again. When they came up for air, Han hastily yanked the offending garment over his head, while Leia’s gaze roved over him approvingly; taking in the flex of bronze pectorals, the sharp ridges of obliques on his sides, the scattering of coppery hair on his chest.

Absolutely delicious, the princess affirmed, eager to devour this gorgeous treat that walked and talked, fired, fought and flew for her Rebellion, and swore up and down that he only did it for the money – but never took so much as a credit.

She thought she might love him. She knew he did love her.

Heart fluttering somewhere in the vicinity of her collar, Leia gave a slightly strangled, “Guess we got time then.” Uncrossing her legs, Leia reeled Han in by that damn belt again. The princess and the smuggler’s lips met, dueled and the heat began to build between them – a fire fueled by three years of built up tension. Three years of self-restraint for him, and three years of self-denial for her; it lit and flared - quick and hot, boiling over into a searing, soul-filling passion. Leia’s hands slid into the slick strands at the nape of his neck and Han’s grease stained fingers cupped her jaw. He squared his hips with hers, pressing in close. Then, closer yet. Their need evident by the pressure against her hip, and the hot press of her body against his, and the wild entanglement of her fingers in his hair.

When they broke for oxygen, their chests were heaving, and dark eyes smoldering. Han held up his index finger between them, indicating a need for a moment’s respite. He let out a short laugh after a few gasping seconds, “That-, That-” the Corellian began. Unable to finish, to muster even a complete phrase; Han’s eyes became saucers when he saw that Leia had unbuckled his tool harness, allowing it clatter to the deck around his feet. Tongue tucked between her teeth in effort, Leia’s fingers began to work at the two prongs of Han’s trouser belt. “Ah, kriff Leia, “ the Corellian cursed hoarsely instead.

“I’ve been sitting here for hours watching you like this,” Leia confided in a whisper, as she yanked the last length of leather belting from Han’s narrow waist. “So… Gods, Han. I didn’t know how much I enjoyed watching someone else work. Until now.”

“You liked watching me well enough. At least as far back as Hubin.” Han reminded her.

Two and a half years earlier, they’d been stranded for weeks on a planet with no regular ship traffic, no communications, no currency system, and an agrarian group of recluses - their entire economy built on a system of barter and trade. With nothing to barter with on hand, Han had kept himself, Luke, and Leia comfortable by performing physical labor for the locals. The work was arduous, and outdoors under the hot sun. So, with only one set of clothes available to him, Han was often stripped to the waist. And Leia would somehow manage to stumble across Han’s work site at least once or twice a day. Especially if it was rather warm outside.

Leia laughed shyly at the memory, “Oh yes. I remember that.” She traced circles on his chest, studying the pattern of hair she disturbed. Leia looked at Han up and down, and she purred sinfully,

“I was not checking on you. I just wasn't sure about trusting our hosts,” It wasn’t necessarily an outright lie.

Han’s laugh was short – unbelieving. And Leia couldn’t blame him. “Yeah, sure. More like checking me out.”

Well....Yes.

Instead, Leia hummed noncommittally. She pulled at him again. Han stumbled forward. Their mouths met once more, and words were lost to them.

Lips devouring the salty, glistening hollow at the base of Han’s throat, Leia’s hand traced the vertical dip in the center of Han’s chest. Han gasped, and snatched her wrist when she reached his navel. Ticklish, Leia surmised with private glee. With his hand free, Han winked and suddenly pilfered the lollipop from behind the princess.

What the?!

Leia yelped and pawed at Han. The smuggler muted her by shoving the disputed lolly in her teeth. Leia snarled at him over it in response. Her teeth clenched ferociously around the hard candy, as Han took a half step in reverse, then lowered to his knees.

“What are you–“ Leia began, and couldn’t finished as shivers rolled through her torso. Han licked a delicate line from the tip of her knee, along the midline of Leia’s thigh, up - just using the absolute tip of his tongue.

The man had talents. And Leia’s sole regret, was that she should have initiated this relationship, this thing between them years ago.

“Han,” Leia clamped down hard on the lolly, as Han’s open mouth grazed the top of her thigh along the hem of Leia’s borrowed shirt. Her palm slapped on the round of Han’s shoulder, the edge her nails digging in. “Please.”

“‘I’m dirty, Leia. Really, really dirty.“ Han reminded her in a baritone murmur, moving in with a short hum of approval as Leia hiked up the shirt to expose a scandalous amount of hip. Han snapped his teeth playfully at her, then went in for the kill, and dragged unsuccessfully at the hem of her underwear. Entangled, he then looked up a Leia a little helplessly with a loop of lace caught up in his eye-teeth.

Sniggering naughtily, Leia obliged Han, first shutting him up by stuffing her candy into his mouth. Han observed her shimmying out of the slip of fabric. The panties dropped to drape over the wide strips of Han’s leather belting on the floor.

Leia tilted Han’s chin up at her, and addressed him in a rough command, “Then get dirty with me.”

“Is that an order, General?” Han teased.

Gazing up at her worshipfully, and planted so uncharacteristically on his knees, Han’s lips were pursed woefully around the worn stick of Leia’s nearly depleted lollipop. The Princess then couldn’t help herself from giggling down at the pilot. Han pouted comically, until Leia popped the treat from his mouth, returning it to her own. She held it ostentatiously pinched between forefinger and thumb, her ring finger and pinkie raised elegantly behind.

“I’m a princess first. I only give commands.”

Han barked with amusement, then growled seductively, and scraped his teeth along her thigh. He carried on, alternately licking and sucking at her flesh in what could be considered a less modest area of her leg. Han kissed her from hip to knee in a trail of electric anticipation. At first, the Princess merely basked in the skillful flick of the smuggler’s mouth against her heated skin, until Leia’s hand yanked the back of his tousled brown hair – hard.

And he hadn’t even used his hands or fingers yet.

Gods… He was so good.

When Han’s careful oral ministrations reached the apex of her thighs, Leia was forced to wrench the candy sucker from her lips, panting and arching her spine. Fumbling blindly, the princess slapped the remaining sliver of lollipop on the engineering console. Leia gripped Han’s head with trembling hands, wrapped a leg over his shoulder, burying her face in the sweaty mess of his hair as he buried his face between her thighs. Leia’s voice quivered in anticipation, as she fought to regain her breath. The princess was beyond orders, or commands, or any thought further than—

“Yes. Please.”

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Approaching the end of Chewie’s shift, a good twelve hours later, the wookiee co-pilot discovered the forgotten candy, cemented by its dried sugar to the console surface. Delicately, he picked at it with a foreclaw, and eventually he removed it with minor effort.

The Falcon’s co-pilot considered the treat for a moment. He sniffed it, sniffed the air, made a harsh grimace, then shot the treat another appraising look, and licked it experimentally.

Chewie tilted his head, thought about it, then made a resigned shrug. He shoved the remainder of the abandoned lollipop in his fangs and crunched down on the candy as he completed his shift’s tasks for the day.

It could barely be considered recompense for all this overdue, ridiculous human mating ritual drama he had to put up with after all.

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