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zablife · 1 year

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John + Solomons!sister thoughts:

This chaotic woman babysitting his kids. At this point all of them call her "Aunt y/n" ❤️. The thing is she can't control herself so, she's telling them a story but in the same way Alfie did with her (can you imagine Alfie telling bed stories to his little sister? 🫠) Well, so, she's telling them something like: "then the princess, who was in the fucking castle, was forced to marry this man . He was a cunt! A fucking cunt..."

And in that moment John returns, and he's wtf! 🤷‍♀️. That's not the kind of language to use in front of his kids! But they're so happy listening to her that in the end he let her finish the story 😂. Probably he joins his kids, too.

The Runaway (Partners in Crime AU)

John Shelby x Y/n Solomons

GIF credit @alicent-targaryen

Read previous part Shots Fired

John sat in pensive silence, hands clasped in his lap as his older brother’s shadow passed over him threateningly. He felt like a child waiting for punishment, but no one could make him feel worse than the condemnation that came from within. His mind had been on your disappearance all day.

“What the fuck were you thinking, John?” Tommy said pacing the floor as he pinched the bridge of his nose harshly.

“I swear it wasn’t my idea, Tom. You know what she’s like,” John protested.

Tommy stopped in front of a chair, fingers curled around the back tightly as he glared at his brother, “Is that what I’m supposed to tell Alfie?”

John looked away in defeat, shoulders hunched. Why did you have to be so bloody stubborn, he wondered, anger bubbling up inside of him. When he’d gone to check on you yesterday, the nurse told him you’d discharged yourself hours earlier. He’d flown into a rage, overturning the bed and table until she handed him a letter between shaking fingertips, begging him to leave.

“Tell me once more,” Tommy insisted.

“Here, read it for yourself,” John answered with a huff. He fished the note from his coat pocket and tossed it across the kitchen table. It was creased and torn at the edges from where he’d already read it many times over, trying to discern meaning from your cryptic words.

Tommy snatched it up, scanning the hastily scribbled writing and squinting in the dim light at your poor penmanship.

I couldn’t stay here. I have a personal matter to settle, but I’ll see you again in a familiar place when I'm done. I owe you a black eye and two kisses xx

“The fuck’s she on about, eh?” Tommy said, hurling the paper back at his brother. “What place?”

John simply shrugged, too exhausted to speculate.

Tommy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Were you two fucking? If so, you need to tell me now.”

John’s body pitched forward with a burst of laughter. “Oh, fuck off, Tommy!”

Growing irritated Tommy stormed out, calling over his shoulder, “Find Y/n, NOW! Before Alfie finds out about this!”

———————————————

Three weeks later…

“You won’t believe what happens next!” you tease out slowly, watching the little faces gathered around you.

“Does he find the princess?” Clara asked, clutching her teddy bear.

“Yes! But that’s not all! Cheeky bastard leans over for some heavenly bliss,” you said, kissing your hand to demonstrate dramatically.

The children shrieked and squealed before Katie piped up excitedly, “He kissed her?”

You nodded, “I mean…not a proper snog cause she weren’t awake. And, more importantly, girls, he didn’t ask! A lad’s gotta treat you with respect,” you reminded them with a wag of your finger.

“Can we please have another story after this one?” William interrupted, chubby hands pushed together pleadingly.

“You tell stories better than daddy,” Katie proclaimed with a giggle.

Following the sound of his children's laughter, John climbed the stairs quietly. His heart thundered in his chest as he strained to listen for the female voice he knew well. A thousand questions crossed his mind, but the relief he felt quieted them all as he caught a glimpse of you from the hall.

You shifted in the small bed to make yourself more comfortable, adjusting the sling that held your bad arm. “No, this is the last one. I’m cream crackered!” you said, stifling a yawn.

“Why do you talk funny?” Katie asked, her lisp adorably more pronounced.

“Why do you?” you countered defensively.

“I can’t help it, I’m missing my front teeth,” she replied sweetly, opening her mouth wide to reveal a wide gap.

You leaned forward to examine her, pinching her chin between your thumb and forefinger. Nodding thoughtfully you exclaimed, “Oh, right. Got a man down at the bakery who looks like you. He’s called Walter.”

“Is Walter getting new teeth like me?” Katie asked hopefully.

You furrowed your brow and shook your head, “No, I don’t think so.”

John leaned against the door frame watching you with his children. He was somewhat surprised to see this softer side of you, though he always knew you must have one. He watched the corners of your eyes crinkle into a smile as you continued joking with the children and he found himself smiling as well.

“I feel sorry for Walter then,” Katie said, big blue eyes looking up at you sorrowfully.

“No, don’t trouble yourself, love. He’s a right cunt,” you said matter-of-factly. "And a dirty little snitch as it turns out. Do you know what we do to them?"

John leaped forward. “Alright, bedtime!” he announced. “Y/n, can I speak with you?”

You looked up, realizing he was home. “So you finally found me,” you said with a grin. “Did you come for those kisses?” you teased as you rose to greet him, batting your lashes at him playfully. The children whooped in delight, jumping up and down as they watched both of you carefully.

“Bed!” John instructed, pointing for them to lie down. Guiding you out into the hall, he closed the door to their room and when you attempted to walk away from him, he pulled you back to him demanding, “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“You speak to me like that again and it’ll be a black eye for you, understand?” you warned him.

“Alright, calm down,” he said, relinquishing his grip on your wrist. “I was worried,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked down at your feet and nodded in understanding. “M sorry. Sabini’s men came looking for me at the hospital. I had to leave.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve taken care of it,” John said lowly.

Your eyes flicked up to his, a sudden spark lighting within you as you shook your head at him. “I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.”

John ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Fine, you don’t need me,” he said, pushing past you to take the stairs two at a time.

You followed after him into the kitchen where he was noisily opening cupboards to distract himself from your rejection.

“That’s not what I meant. I’m good at what I do so I don’t need my man to rescue me every time I’m in trouble, John."

“Oh, fuck off, Y/n!” he shouted, spinning around to look at you. "I may not be your man, but I'm still your partner. Why can't you trust me?” he asked, chest rising and falling quickly with his rapid heartbeat. You meant more to him than any woman had since Martha and he couldn’t understand why you insisted on shutting him out.

You stood staring at him, a lump in your throat in place of an explanation. Why were you like this? Was it years of working for Alfie or the fear of admitting you cared about someone? You couldn’t say. You’d never been good with words, but you had to try or this might be the end of your friendship.

“Look, I’m shit at telling people how I feel about them, alright? I learned everything I know about family from Alfie and you know what a numpty he is,” you let out a desperate laugh that fell flat when you saw John’s wide eyes staring back at you. “I couldn’t risk Sabini hurting you too. You’ve got kids to think of!” you said, eyes welling with tears. “I don't have anyone so it wasn't as much of a risk for me. You think I don’t trust you, but I’d fucking die for you, you arsehole.”

John exhaled the breath he’d been holding listening to you and rushed to embrace you, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Hey, you’ve got me. You’ve got all of us," he assured you as he stroked your hair gently. "Promise me you won’t do that again. I couldn’t lose you.”

You nodded against his shoulder, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand as embarrassment washed over you. John loosened his grasp on your shoulders and stepped back to give you space. Digging into his pocket, he bit his lip before offering a handkerchief. Looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye, he attempted to lighten the mood. “If you’re going to come round more often to see the kids, stick to bedtime stories, yeah?”

You hiccuped out a little laugh asking, “No small talk?”

“Not if it’s about Walter,” he joked, looking away with a chuckle.

You blew your nose into the hanky as you mumbled, “Sleeping Beauty again, I reckon.”

John winced, “I hate that one.”

“Says the man who grabbed the tit of an unconscious woman,” you retorted playfully.

“How many times do I have to apologize for that? I did save your life that night you know!” John said, voice tinged with mild irritation.

A smile slowly began to creep over your face as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek softly, “Thank you, Barney.”

His bright blue eyes searched yours and found a sincerity he'd never seen before. “You’re welcome, alley cat," he whispered into the stillness of the night. His term of affection made you feel warm and comforted and for once you didn't feel like dismissing it with a joke or running away.

Read part 5 Plus One

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #John Shelby #John Shelby x solomons sister #John Shelby x reader #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x y/n

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lazycats-stuff · 8 months

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Hello I was wondering if you could do a Batfam x teen reader, where the reader is like Lara croft from Tom Raider. The reader love going on adventure to ancient ruin and collect artefacts. The story is up to you, of course!

Thanks you for your amazing writing!

(sorry, English isn't my first language)

I can do it! I remember watching Angelina Jolie in the role, I loved it! Thanks for the compliment anon. Don't worry, English isn't my first language too.

Summary: (Y/N) loved collecting artefacts. It can come in helpful sometimes.

Warnings: looking for the Holy Lance, mentions of Jesus and religious content, Matthias Vogel is here as an enemy, (Y/N) is scared of him, mentions of near death experience, Bruce is a protective dad.

Out of all the children he has, Bruce sees (Y/N) the least. He comes here for a few weeks and then he is of on another adventure. Bruce was very skeptical of him, but to say that would be hypocritical is an understatement.

So Bruce taught him every skill he knows to help him on his adventures. The boys did so too and they were always interested in what he collected. They all listened to the stories with a lot of interest and Bruce made a little museum in the manor.

Bruce knew that (Y/N) would do this for as long as he lives, because he was always adventures, even when he was a kid. Bruce had so much scares with him and a few gray hairs to prove it.

At the moment, (Y/N) was back home in USA, Gotham, New Jersey. He was sleeping in his room, knocked out from exhaustion. Bruce picked him up from the airport late last night while others were getting ready to go on patrol.

Bruce decided to leave (Y/N) sleeping and the others were going to be surprised. Damian loved his older brother to death and he missed him during his adventures, even though Damian would rather die than to admit it.

Bruce was in the kitchen, drinking the coffee that Alfred has prepared for him. He waited for his sons to come down. (Y/N) would probably come down in a few hours at best, but he did sleep through the entire flight. Maybe he could come down during breakfast.

" I see you are more relaxed master Bruce. " Alfred noted, turned to the stove, making some eggs for him.

" I am. (Y/N) is back and I can finally feel more relaxed. " Bruce explained and Alfred raised his brow.

" He is? "

" Yes, we came back when the others were getting ready for patrol. It will be a nice surprise. "

" Where was he this time? " Alfred asked.

" He was in Egypt. He looked for a temple and something that I can't even pronounce. " Bruce said and Alfred nodded, serving him the eggs.

The others were getting down too and the piled into the kitchen. There were quiet murmurs of good mornings and a grunt from Jason.

" I miss (Y/N). " Dick said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

" Me too. " Tim chimed in, already having a cup of coffee in hands.

Jason just sighed quietly, not in the mood to talk. He was never and never will be a morning person. " Where is he anyway father? "

" Egypt. " Bruce answered shortly, sipping more of his coffee. Damian just nodded, rubbing his eyes too. He yawned behind his hand, thanking Alfred for bringing him the food.

" Good morning. "

Four heads whipped to look at the entrance door, all various stages of shock. Dick leapt from his chair, embracing his brother tightly. Jason followed after blinking a few times and Tim and Damian nearly trampled over one another to embrace their brother.

(Y/N) smiled, trying to breathe.

" I love you both, but you kind of need to let me go. " (Y/N) wheezed out and they did let him go, sitting back down at their spots.

" When did you come back? " Damian asked, pouring him some coffee.

" You were going on patrol on at the time. " (Y/N) explained and everyone but Alfred looked at Bruce.

" I wanted to surprise you all. " Bruce just explained and there were a few huffs heard. He chuckled at the displeasure of not knowing where their brother is.

" And what did you find? " Jason asked and (Y/N) started talking. Bruce hid his smile behind his mug. He knew that it would be like this for another few weeks before (Y/N) goes on another adventure.

" Wow. And Bruce brought you here without telling us. " Jason said, giving Bruce a mock glare.

" He was exhausted and he needed his sleep. " Bruce explained himself and Jason just shook his head.

" Does it really matter? It's a nice surprise. " Alfred chimed in and Jason had to agree. It was nice to see his brother.

" Where do you think you are going next? " Tim asked and (Y/N) tilted his head in thought.

" I don't know. Maybe find the Arc of the Covenant or something like that. " Everyone laughed at that and (Y/N) with them. Maybe he should embark on such religious adventure. Especially in regard to the Catholic Church. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to find that Arc.

" Maybe you should. " Jason noted.

" Maybe I will and go down in history as the person who found the Arc of the Covenant. " (Y/N) laughed as he drank his coffee. Maybe he should.

" And then we can claim more fame. " Tim joked, sending the table into an another wave of laughter.

(Y/N)'s mask itched on his face as he walked with Bruce through the Zeta tube. He only wore when he was needed for the Justice League as an expert on ancient artefacts. They had an expert on magical artifacts and then they had (Y/N).

Bruce wanted to protect (Y/N)'s identity since they had new heroes coming to the League. (Y/N) sighed quietly, adjusting the mask. He just wanted to rip this mask off, but he couldn't due to Bruce.

" Just an hour or so and then you can go home. " Bruce said, not ever looking back as they walked through the halls to the conference room. Apparently they had some rumors about the power that the Holy Lance has.

The Lance also had some blood of Jesus Christ when he was crucified and according to some magic wielders there is also mind control in the mix too.

It was something that the Justice League wanted to have, to safe keep, away from the League of Light, considering that if it fell into wrong hands, there would be a lot of chaos and terror from the Light.

(Y/N) has heard of it and has heard it's legend, but there were already lances claiming to be the holy one, so he didn't really bother with searching one. Apparently there is one under the St. Peter's Basilica and there is one in Vienna too.

(Y/N) shook his head as he saw Superman and Wonder Woman. The trio exchanged hugs and some kisses, at least on Wonder Woman's side. (Y/N) was considered a nephew and that meant that they worried for him when he was away on his adventures.

When ever (Y/N) was out on his adventures, Superman listened intently. Clark told (Y/N) a few years back that if he was ever in trouble that didn't seem like he could get out of, call.

It has only happened once and not even Bruce knows about. (Y/N) didn't want to worry him.

" Oh my dear nephew, where have you been? " She asked, leading him to the conference room, leaving the two men behind. Wonder Woman loved (Y/N) a lot and she often complained that she wasn't seeing him enough, but she knew that going on adventures is his pure passion.

She is not going to take that away from him. She is not evil.

The two fell into a nice conversation, sitting next to each other. Bruce and Clark stepped in, along side Hal, Victor, Barry and Arthur. They also got visibly excited at the sight of their rarely seen bat kid. There were pats on the back and some side hugs.

" Okay, now that we have all gathered here, we can start. " Batman said and everyone grumbled.

" We see this kid rarely as it is and you want to work? You are cruel. " Green Lantern grumbled, Flash nodding in agreement. Cyborg and Aquaman agreed, but they didn't voice it.

" This is an important meeting for an important mission. We have no time to waste. "

(Y/N) suppressed a chuckle. To him, his father was always funny when he was trying to sound so strict and scary. (Y/N) knew early on that Batman and Bruce Wayne are two different people. And when you live with him long enough, it becomes funny.

" Now, what we are looking for is this lance. " Bruce said, pressing a few buttons to show a picture on the screen. " It's supposedly a lance that was used to stab Jesus Christ during his crucifixion. It's supposed to have some blood of Jesus on it. But the reason why we are looking for it's because it has a power. Mind control. " Bruce paused, nodding to (Y/N).

" There are about 3 lances claiming to be the Holy Lance. One is Rome, on is in Krakow and the other one is in Vienna. But there is no proof that they are the real deal. The information that I have says that it could be found in Armenia. Fun fact, Hitler was obsessed with it. " (Y/N) said, tapping on the screen. It's a photograph of a cave.

" Now, this is the place where it's supposed to be, but it's not confirmed. With the help of my dad, we intercepted intel from Matthias Vogel. He is a treasure hunter and a leader of mercenaries. They haven't confirmed it yet, but I did. I talked to my sources and friends and I have confirmed it. Do you have an idea what the cave is?" (Y/N) asked, shifting in his chair.

" The tomb of Jesus. " Superman chimed in.

" You are correct. He is officially buried in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, but the body can't be traced back to Jesus. The Church was built near the crucifixion site, according to the Bible. " (Y/N) finished and everyone else was shocked at the knowledge that (Y/N) showed. Holy shit.

" Wow. " Flash said, making (Y/N) chuckle.

" Yeah, I know. " (Y/N) said and Bruce had to suppress a smile. (Y/N) was his boy.

" We are going first thing tomorrow. " Batman announced and the meeting was over. The father son duo looked at each. Bruce knew that Vogel is (Y/N)'s enemy and that worried him. (Y/N) is a skilled person, but this is something that Bruce would never take lightly.

(Y/N) was trained very well and he managed to take Deathstroke once, but Vogel nearly killed (Y/N) once. That was the time that Bruce doesn't know about Superman's help. (Y/N) came home a bit wrecked, but he did tell Bruce that Vogel has tried to kill him. He didn't know about Superman's help and (Y/N) lied to Bruce about the extent of his injuries.

Everyone left Bruce and (Y/N) alone and (Y/N) walked up to Bruce who was still sitting down.

" We have to bring Robin. " (Y/N) said quietly, leaning down to hug Bruce. He knew that his dad was angry about the near death experience and Bruce gave him a hug.

" We will. I'm more concerned about Vogel. If Robin finds out about him, he is going to kill him. " Bruce replied, just as quietly. He didn't want to think about it.

He was just happy to have his son alive and well.

The flight to Armenia went through without a hitch. It was easy and the ride to the cave, where Jesus is supposed to be buried. Matthias Vogel was nowhere to be seen and (Y/N) wanted to keep it that way. Damian sat down next to (Y/N) in the car and he could understand how freeing this is.

Thankfully, they went in the autumn, when the weather is was just perfect. Not to hot and not to cold. Damian already made a note to ask (Y/N) to join in on one adventure.

" Here it is. " (Y/N) announced, looking through the sunglasses. Damian and (Y/N) jumped out, walking towards it. Batman and the others followed close behind. Hal made some light with his ring and Cyborg analyzed it with his vision.

" It seems to be going deeper. If we move the big rock, then we will be able to get through. " He said, looking around.

Superman quickly moved it and Batman went first. Everything was quiet at first, before (Y/N) heard a familiar voice.

" It's here. It's a shame that (Y/N) isn't here. " Matthias Vogel said and (Y/N) froze. Flash took them all out. They were knocked out within a second.

They didn't see them coming.

" Okay, lets take the lance and go. This is one of the easier missions we have ever had. I don't want to mess it up. " Robin said and (Y/N) took the Lance.

(Y/N) still felt uneasy at the voice of Mathias Vogel. He didn't want to know what the sentence meant and he didn't want to guess. He woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air.

He felt scared for the first time in a year. He stood up on shaky legs as he went to Bruce's room. He tried to breath normally, but he couldn't.

The nightmare took everything out of him as he opened the door quietly. Bruce lifted his head up, opening his eyes. (Y/N) didn't have to say anything, he just lifted the covers up.

(Y/N) closed the door behind himself, before crawling under them. Bruce wrapped him up in the warm covers, bringing him closer to him. He gave him a kiss on the head before (Y/N) buried his head into Bruce's chest.

" Nothing will happen to you. " Bruce said quietly in the dark, as if he knew what has scared (Y/N).

(Y/N) teared up a little and Bruce embraced him tightly. (Y/N) closed his eyes once more as he tried sleep.

(Y/N) and Bruce fell asleep, (Y/N) feeling safe in his father's arms.

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader

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keirawantstocry · 3 months

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Prompt: fitpac learning about qtubbos nightmare polycule with 2 gods. Maybe bc he's possessed and they're arguing in his body LMAO

i made the nightmare polycule worse hope that helps

There were strange unnatural glints in Tubbo's eyes. That was the first thing that made Fit and Pac realize it wasn't just him inhabiting his body. Pac had seen the same look in Mike's eyes when his goddess wife was possessing him.

"Oi!" he said, looking curiously at the person currently in control of Tubbo. "Who are you?"

A voice similar to Tubbo's but louder said, "It is me, Tubbo. I fuck like crazy." Its voice descended into crazy laughter. Not Tubbo's laughter.

The inflection was deep on the uh syllable of Tubbo's name to the point where even an idiot would be able to tell this was not Tubbo.

"You're not Tubbo," Fit said.

Not Tubbo turned his face to Fit. "Heyyy sexy."

Fit froze. "I'm sorry what?"

Not Tubbo's face shifted into a concerned expression as his voice got higher and softer. "Ignore him. So sorry guys. My boyfriend is an idiot."

Tubbo's voice broke through. "He's an asshole!"

The female voice slipped back over his with a deep sigh.

A new voice cut in over the two of them, deeper than both of them. "Well, Tubbo's the idiot who signed the marriage papers."

Pac and Fit exchanged a look.

"Is your husband in there?" Pac asked carefully.

The voice that appeared first came back. "Yes. I am his husband, who wants to fucking know?" Not Tubbo squinted at him. "Is one of you the man he's trying to leave me for?"

Pac burst into laughter as Fit simply gaped in disbelief. "No?"

"Não, não," Pac affirmed. "I am very pro-poly. We can all have him."

Not Tubbo seemed content with this answer. "Fine. Still my husband."

Tubbo's voice forced its way through once more. "You have a girlfriend?"

The feminine voice cut over Tubbo's, softer than both of theirs but taking priority. "I'm used to it. He keeps flirting with men in front of me."

The deep male voice shoved its way through. "That's true. We had gay sex yesterday."

"That's not true!" Tubbo said, sounding so exhausted.

"Yes it is," the deep voice said.

"We're in a polycule," Tubbo's husband, Tom Pac thought his name was?, said.

"No, we aren't!" Tubbo cried.

Pac couldn't stop the laughter bubbling out of him.

"We're getting a fucking divorce!"

Tom's voice took the reins once again. "No we fucking aren't. Molly is fine with this."

The feminine voice, Molly cut in, sounding amused. "Did you ask me if I was okay with it or did you just assume?"

Not Tubbo rolled its eyes. "I don't need your permission dear. If I say you're okay with it then you're okay with it."

The deeper male voice made a return. "You are a horrible boyfriend, you know that right?"

"Shut the fuck up, Jack," Tom said.

Tubbo took control again. "Sorry for the crazy amount of voices today, guys. Tom and Molly and Jack are all here. They're excited to talk."

"It's been so long," Molly said. "Since we've had a human host to inhabit." She lifted her hand up to study it before smiling gently with Tubbo's mouth. It was slightly eerie. "Such a strong one as well."

Pac nodded. "Oh yeah he's very strong."

Tom's voice came through aggressively. "Hey, stop flirting with my husband."

"You were literally flirting with me like three minutes ago?" Fit countered and Tom squinted at him before sighing.

Tubbo laughed. The laughter wasn't just his own; it was a mix of a deep roarous laughter, light giggles, and the familiar tremor of Tubbo's laugh.

"That's so freaky," Fit said softly to Pac who turned to him with a grin.

"So cool though, right?"

As the voices began to bicker over each other, Fit just laughed to himself. "Yeah, so fucking cool."

#tubbathon shenanagins #qsmp #my writing #fanfiction #q!tubbo #q!pac #q!fit #what is this #but it was a lot of fun to write

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brooooswriting · 1 year

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Hello broko loco it's been a minute.

So this idea just came to mind.

How about a Mafia AU.

Jenna x Mafia leader FR

So how about Jenna getting kidnapped by R's rivals and that's when she actually finds out r is part of the Mafia. Her being taken away, then R finds out before the other bitches make demands because... connections. And she goes on a killing spree just to save her girl.

Then they talk about everything [tragic backstory intestifies (only if you feel like it)] and Jenna ends up falling asleep in R's arms due to being exhausted.

Feel free to delete this if it makes you uncomfortable. Take your time ik you have situation pt 6 on the way that's why I'm insisting on this.

And I hope you have a great day<3

Should have told ya

Jenna Ortega x Mafia leader reader

A/n: I don’t know shit about the mafia and I couldn’t really find anything online that made sense to me😂

There was a part of your life that you didn’t like to talk about and you didn’t want people to know about. Sure that sounds drastic but everybody who knew was in danger too, so you liked to keep to yourself. You actually did in general, until you met a certain actress. You ran into each other when one of your newbies fucked up, you and your crew were in a hurry and one of them ran into her. In General no problem but you didn’t like the fact that he didn’t say sorry, sure you were a mafia boss but that doesn’t mean that you guys can’t be polite. Especially after you saw how pretty the girl was, you let the others walk past you as you hurried back to say that you’re sorry. And somehow a relationship built from that.

You still never told her that you were part of the mafia, let alone that you were the boss. Your mafia was kinda different thou, you didn’t like killing people for nothing and you didn’t like the rivalry between the different mafias, you believe that you did more of a good thing. You still killed people and did some dirty stuff but a lot of them were people who abused kids, rapists or stuff like that. Because let’s be honest, the law system was shit and someone had to do something.

But there were people who had problems with that, especially another mafia group in California. You liked to believe that this was the only useless blood flowing you were the cause off.

“Baby?” You called as you walked into your house, Jenna was waiting for you after a long day of work, you couldn’t wait to see her. “Jen?” You called out again, your voice louder this time, but there was still no answer. You called out again and again, dialing her number walking trough every room, she was nowhere to find, you even started calling her co stars but nobody knew where she was. You couldn’t help but panic as you called in some of your members, hoping that they would help you find her. It only got worse when you found a envelope in front of your house with headphones in it.

After around 20 minutes you sent 12 troops of 3 out to look for her all around the city, you and four others tried to track her. There was no luck in tracking her phone, it was either turned off or destroyed, but you did have luck when you hacked into some cameras of your rivals where you found Jenna sitting in an abandoned building, tears streaming down her face. Your blood boiled with anger, you immediately called everybody to the location, this was gonna be their end.

After around 10 black cars pulled up to the house you entered. They were checking each room, you darting for the living room where you thought she’d be but there was only one person, Tom, second man of your rivals. “Where is she?” You growled at him, having problems keeping your anger at bay. “You really thought we were gonna keep her here? You’ll give us what we want and then maybe, just maybe, you’ll see her again” that was enough for you, you nodded at Mike, your second man, who grabbed Tom to hold him still.

After you’ve punched him around 20 times his face was bloody, his nose and jaw broken but he still wouldn’t talk and it fueled your anger. “You know what, I’m over this and I’m over playing nice. Torture him until he talks and if he doesn’t? Kill him.” Suddenly the guy was panicked, you weren’t known for torture and you seemed so serious that it scared the shit out of him.

Not even 15 minutes after you’ve left you heard him call you causing you to grin. “Now you wanna talk?” You asked as you entered with a smile, “yes, she’s at the warehouse down south” he was heaving, tears streaming down his face while yours held a smile. “Good, keep him here, if she’s not there, kill him” after you hit him one more time you left with 10 more people.

“Alright, this time no talking. Me and Mike are going in and if there’s a problem I’m calling back up alright? Somebody gets in your way? Kill them, nobody takes my girl” everybody was surprised by your behavior, you normally were pretty chill and laid back and you never got close to anyone really. “We are going in”

You kicked in the door, making your presence known as two people already came running towards you. Each of you fought one to the ground, you slicing the throat of yours. It went like that until you had around 10 people down, most of them dead. After you killed the last one you finally saw her, they had stuffed her mouth, tied her to a chair and ripped her shirt to the point where you could see her bra. Their leader, Paul, a complete ass, stood in front of her saying something that made her whimper which made you growl.

You nodded at Mike before running off and tackling their boss to the ground, a surprised sound coming from the girl next to you. While you repeatedly hit the man under you, Mike cut the ropes to free the smaller girl who cowered next to him, the guy she knew as your best friend. “Never. Touch. My. Girl. Again” you stressed each word with a harsh hit to his face before finally standing up to look at Jenna.

“Are you alright baby?” Your voice immediately went soft when you talked to her, your hands reaching for her waist while hers landed on your shoulder. “You’re part of the fucking mafia” she gasped slightly pushing you away from her, “you’re not just a part, you’re the fucking boss” you studied her face as your thumb rubbed circles over her waist. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I thought it was saver when you didn’t know, I’m so sorry baby” you told her but she only shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here” she grumbled and walked away causing you to sigh. “Mike, go with her. She shouldn’t be alone right now” you told him as you knew that she didn’t wanna see you right now.

Mike jogged towards her until he was next to her, “you’re a part of this too huh?” She said looking straight toward. “Yes, but you shouldn’t be too harsh on y/n. She was scared of you getting hurt and when you disappeared today? It was the first time in 19 years that I saw her really scared, she would have blown up the whole damn world to find you” he explained as they walked up to your car. Jenna’s heart sank when she heard that, it did kind of make sense that you didn’t tell her but today really was a shock.

“I’m gonna let somebody drive you home… to your home and there’s gonna be someone stationed in front of your house the whole time” you told her as you opened the door for her as she nodded. “Goodbye Jenna, im sorry” you mumbled again before closing the door. Her heart sank again when you closed the door, the whole thing sounded like a forever goodbye. She hoped that you’d come to her house in a different car, but you didn’t.

She waited a whole hour before calling you. “Jenna? Are you alright?” You quickly rushed out the words as soon as you picked up the phone, “no! You’re gonna get your ass here and we are gonna talk about everything” you sighed, “Jen-“ “Stop it! Get your ass here right now” this time you didn’t protest, you said your goodbye and walked to your car.

When she opened the door for you, your heart sped up. She was wearing one of your hoodies that went to her knees which made her look adorable. “Come in” she said as she pulled you to the couch. “Talk” you chuckled at her bossiness but started nonetheless.

“My parents were shot in a mafia fight when I was 8, I was alone in their restaurant sitting next to their dead bodies when an old man came inside. Just minutes before I saw him trying to protect my parents, he introduced himself as Frank, saying that he knew my parents and that he was very sorry for their death and that he’d like me to come with him. He’d take care of me and he did, he did more than I could have asked for. Years later, I believe I was 14 I learned that he was the reason my family died, he was the reason they were involved in it. But I couldn’t be mad at him, my father decided to join on his own, he was a grown man after all and he tried to do good.” you took a deep breath, talking about your parents was still hard for you. Jenna noticed and slightly curled herself into you, the heat and the familiar feeling that radiated off of her comforted you. “Frank retired 5 years ago, making me the boss as I was like his daughter, I learned everything about it since he took care of me. We always tried to make this a better place which some of the other mafia groups didn’t like, which is what brings us to today. I never told you because I thought I could keep you safe that way, my dad told my mom and she died because of it. You’re my first relationship since I’ve been 15, I was always too afraid of putting them in danger. Until you came, you had this hold on me that I just couldn’t break your heart” you finished as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh honey” Jenna sat herself on your lap with her arms around your neck pressing your face into her chest as you silently cried. “I get that you didn’t tell me but next time, just be honest so I know what I’d get myself into. I still would be here you know?” She pulled your head up to kiss you, you immediately kissed her back as your arms tightened around her waist to pull her closer. “I love you Jenna” you whispered against her lips, making her smile, “I love you too my little mafia boss” both of you giggled before she settled into your arms in a more comfortable position. You just held her for a moment, happy that she was still with you and that she was fine. “I wanna meet Frank this week” she mumbled sleepily and not even 2 minutes later she was asleep on top of you causing your heart to melt.

You carefully moved until you were laying on the couch with her laying on top of you, you kissed her head before closing your eyes too.

She is going to make a great mafia boss

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #jenna

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anxious-lee · 4 months

Text

A Sudden Diversion - A Lackadaisy Tickle Fic

Lee: Freckle

Lers: Ivy and Rocky

----

Evidently, plowing an automobile through several thickets and insisting it is a "short-cut" is dangerous.

This may have been a revelation to Rocky, but Freckle could have told him that from the beginning. In fact, he tried.

Yet, here they were: in the Lackadaisy's cluttered garage, mending the battering inflicted on their poor vehicle. The car was nicked and scratched from the shrubbery, not unlike its occupants. The engine compartment would have been just fine had the frenzied tom Rocky not rammed it into a tree's trunk. All in all, the damages were unnecessary and very expensive. To say that Miss Mitzi was peeved at the three stooges would be an understatement. Due to the speakeasy's lack of adequate funds, the car's repairs would need to be done by Rocky, Ivy, and Freckle, as reparations for ruining the car in the first place. Freckle supposed that being placed on mechanic duty wasn't the worst punishment Miss Mitzi could have dealt. Although, if anyone should have to be saddled with this chore, it should be Rocky. He's the one who made the mess in the first place.

But, perhaps it was for the best. It was safer in the garage than it was out there on the liquor-lined battlefield.

All three colleagues sat, working away silently. Or rather, almost silently, as Rocky could only take the deafening quiet for so long before he broke out into a hum. Some tune that neither Freckle nor Ives recognized. The musician himself was made useful by patching up the old paint job, while the two lovers dug through their toolbox, looking for the appropriate equipment to repair the engine.

Freckle had seen plenty of danger in his lifetime with his cousin. Hell, toughing through peril was practically his best trait as an officer in training. But each adventure wore down a little bit more of his psyche. And some nights, like tonight, there was nothing left to wear.

He was exhausted, both from the team's little excursion and the mental power it took not to have a panic attack.

Ivy, who sat at his right, learned over time to recognize these feelings through observation. Because odds were, Freckle wouldn't say it directly. She could pretty much discern and dissect every Freckle frown.

She was gonna make him smile.

She began with a little smirk of her own.

"Car maintenance isn't the peachiest job in the world, but at least we get some quality time together," Ivy said, batting her eyelids.

Brought out of his daze by the sudden sound of her voice, Freckle glanced up at Ivy quickly. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly at her flirtatious remarks.

But Ivy wasn't going to stop there.

"Y'know, I hardly ever get to witness you in your element. Tinkering away with your gadgets, and gizmos, and... whosiwhatsits, " she finished with a flippant backhand toward the toolbox.

Freckle seemed bashful to turn bashful at that.

"Oh. I'm no professional. My mum taught me everything I know, and when it became just me and her in that house, I had to step in and help with the maintenance. If I'm being honest, I'm more familiar with the back-end of a kitchen sink than I am with motor vehicle repair," he cringed.

"Relentlessly humble, as always," Rocky piped in suddenly, "Ol' Freckle Face never could take a compliment, however deserved or warranted."

"Yeah! C'mon McMurray, you're doing most of the heavy lifting here! Little did Miss M. know that when she hired a gunman, she also hired a handyman," said Ivy.

The extra attention was getting to Freckle, so much so that he hadn't noticed when his cheeks began to burn hot.

"It's really not a big deal-"

"I'll say it is, and no take-backsies!" Ivy declared. For emphasis, she burrowed a single claw into his armpit.

Freckle tittered softly and tilted his body away from his attacker.

"Kheehehe, quit it," he near-whispered.

"What will you do if I dont?" Ivy dared playfully.

What to answer with, Freckle hadn't the faintest. His upturned mouth opened and shut a few times, hoping that the perfect reasoning would spring from his lips at any moment. Finally, he spoke.

"We're not gohonna finish our wohork," he retorted lamely.

"Oh yeah? Is that what it is you're scared of? The job?" purred Ivy. She once again buried her pointer claw into the crook of his underarm. It took some more digging than the first time due to Freckle's attempts to keep his arm flat against his side. When she settled into her target, she scritched everywhere she could reach.

"Yehes!" Freckle said, much louder and desperate than he intended. He was squirming a little more now, bent in a seventy-degree angle, but still holding down his position. The first giggle, he couldn't control. The second, third, and fourth, however, he was determined to swallow down. His lips pressed into a wobbly smile, hoping that if he didn't laugh, she wouldn't continue.

That only made her tickle harder.

"You trying to hold it in? Good luck, 'cause my little brothers tried the same trick, and it did not last long," warned Ivy.

And it was true. Before long, his firmly shut lips did nothing to prevent his giggles from escaping. They sounded more like pleaful whimpers.

It wasn't that Freckle hated her little games, but succumbing to something so childish as tickling was easier said than done. Not to mention the fact that they were in public, where any one of the speakeasy's employees could walk in on them.

Within a matter of seconds, Ivy brought both claws into both armpits and was tickling away.

Freckle gave a laugh of surprise, a notch louder than before. He knew there was no fighting her now. The tingly electricity on both sides of his body overtook him, and he slid to the floor, with his back pressed against it. Ivy followed, now hooked by his incredible laughter.

"You crazy kids ought to keep your hands off of each other. Otherwise, people might get the idea that you two are les amoureux," Rocky called from his place at the car, voice shining with sarcasm. He was watching them now and smirking unsympathetically at his troubled cousin.

"We are les amoureux, Rocky," Ivy called back.

For some reason, Ivy holding a conversation with Rocky while Freckle was underneath her laughing pitifully was making the sensation worse. As his face burned brighter, Freckle turned his head away from her in an attempt to save himself the embarrassment of having her look upon his cheesy face.

"Awh~! Poor boy is embarrassed!" Ivy cooed, taking one hand away from his arm and cupping his cheek with it, pulling his face back to her.

"You are practically burning up!" she gasped, "Are you blushing~?"

The saints above could not help poor Freckle now.

He didn't grace that question with an answer and instead whined through his laughter. This could not get more humiliating.

"I missed that big smile! And that laugh. I love it when you laugh. It's so cute!" the feisty woman squealed.

"Nohoho, it's nohohot!" Freckle squealed louder. His paws, which had been tucked in like T-Rex arms to his chest, were now covering everywhere on his face he could reach.

"It's a shame that me admiring you flusters you so terribly, because I'm not going to stop any time soon. You're all mine to adore, Calvin McMurray~"

Holy hell.

The teasing's subject cried out in ticklish agony and released a new wave of laughter.

"This would be easier if- you know- I'll think I'll just- there we go!" Ivy maneuvered herself to sit behind Freckle's head while she pinned his hands under her knees. Now he was on full display, with no hope of saving his dignity.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle~" she teased as both hands came back down to lightly skitter over and across his belly. Freckle laughed uproariously, unable to hold anything back, his pure-hearted cackle ringing out throughout the garage.

It was almost more than he could bear.

Almost.

"DOHOHONT SAHAY THAT!"

"Why not?"

"IT MAHAKES IT WOHORSE!"

"Ah, good tip! Definitely will be making use out of this. Kitchee kitchee kitchee kitchee coo~!"

Ivy moved her paws towards his hips, squeezing them faster than was merciful.

Freckle's laugh deepened in pitch immediately, sounding more like a maniacal cackle.

"Pretty good targets, Miss Pepper, but you're neglecting some key players in this game of torture!" said Rocky.

"It's not torture! He's fine! Aren't you, sweetie?"

Freckle almost said no, but he was too busy laughing. Laughing from an attack he let happen. If he really detested it, he could have ended this from the beginning, and he knew that. But there was no real danger here. Not with Ivy. Not with Rocky, either. He knew they would never hurt him.

Nevertheless, when one is being pinned down and tickled stupid, the only thought your mind will allow is 'STOP'.

Rocky strode over to Ivy's side and looked down at his cousin.

"Me and Freckle used to get into many a battle such as these when we were little tykes. I triumphed them all, naturally, and I still remember his spots," the tomcat gave Ivy a wink and planted himself on Freckle's legs. "You go for the neck, I'll go for the knees."

"ROHOCKY!!" cried Freckle, betrayed.

"Ooo! Those are good ones!" cheered Ivy.

"ISN'T AHANYONE GOING TO WOHORK ON THE CAHAHAR?!"

"No", they both replied.

They began their double team attack on Freckle's tickle spots. Ivy went to work fluttering in every crevice of his neck, while Rocky rubbed and squeezed his kneecaps, occasionally giving a swift scribble to the undersides.

Freckle couldn't believe how absurd this scenario was. Here he was, now shrieking and giggling shrilly like a small child, while his two closest teammates were tickling him to pieces. He didn't bother to question it any more, simply surrendering to his silly fate and taking the opportunity to let everything go. He had been harboring so much guilt and anxiety over the past few days. Over the past few weeks even. What better time to abandon all sensible thought, what better time to look away from his reality of crime and war, what better time to simply be with his friends, safe and at peace, then now?

But he still needed to breathe, so Ivy let up and released his hands from her hold. Rocky dismounted from his legs and backed away cheerily to give the man some space.

Freckle immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and tucked his legs into himself, tail swishing wildly as he let out his remaining chuckles. As he caught his breath, he looked up at Ivy.

Ivy's expression was kind. "You feeling ok?"

Freckle couldn't stop grinning, and it wasn't from the tickles.

"Y-yeah," he sighed in relief.

"Yes, good man, laughing yourself up a storm, now come on, let's take a break from the car and head to the bar downstairs!" said Rocky.

"You mean after the break we just took from our work?" Ivy smirked.

"I don't know about you two, but all this horseplay has worked up my thirst. Whadd'ya say, Baby Face? Want to grab a beer?" Rocky reached a hand down to help him up.

Freckle was repulsed by the idea of drinking alcohol himself, but Rocky knew that as well, using it as a conversational turn of phrase.

The orange cat softened in agreement.

"Sure."

Rock wasted no time in trotting out the door, hungry for an ice cold scotch.

The two stragglers, now alone, slowly followed behind. As they walked, Ivy stretched an experimental pinkie out to Freckle's. He wasted no time in linking his paw with hers and pulling her to his side.

Not the worst of punishments, indeed.

-------

You know what, I eventually got hungry enough for lackadaisy fic that I wrote one myself. I haven't completed a fic in well over a year, but this franchise is beyond inspiring enough to birth this fic ❤️

@veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @kasey-writes-stuff @ticklyfluffstuff

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #lee talks #tickle fic #lackadaisy tickles #lee!freckle #ler!ivy #ler!rocky

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pedrostylez · 2 months

Text

How The Crow Flies - pt. 9

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 5.4k

Chapter Summary: You and Javier complete the raid on Lorea's house while Frankie is escaping with what is remaining of his crew

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, violence, and blood mentioned heavily in parts, including description of bodies piled up, admitting of feelings (to the best of his ability) by Javier, SMUT including riding, but honestly it's brief.

A/N: Omg the final part! Once again, thank you guys for being patient. I hope you all enjoy and don't hate me for how I left it at the end...open to interpretation? Anyways....love you all! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

Frankie is tired. Arms aching, legs screaming, ready to collapse, tired.

His mind is clouded, exhaustion taking hold as Benny hands him another backpack full of money. The wind whips across his face, the thin air making him gasp a bit louder than he intended. Benny looks at him with a worried expression, shaking his head when Frankie shrugs off the look he gives him. “Almost done, man.”

“Yeah.” Frankie calls, tossing the bag up with a grunt. He glances over to Santiago, his face caved in with dark outlines and circles around his eyes.

He knows they are all pissed at him.

Crashing the helicopter was all he had left to do, and even though Redfly said it was fine, said he picked the best option there was, there’s this sinking feeling in Frankie’s stomach. More is about to go wrong, and it’s all Frankie’s fault for not putting his foot down when they overloaded the helicopter.

How could he deny Tom’s instruction? It was a losing battle, and even though they needed him to fly, he’s sure that he would have been cast aside if he had refused another time. And the looks exchanged between them when Refly shot at the group that surrounded them once they were all out of the crash…

All Frankie could think about was your face as he crashed the helicopter into the ground, and now your face as he throws another bag to Benny. You would have been disappointed too, he thinks.

This is going to be long and torturous.

Javier watches your legs jump in the passenger seat, the tac-vest feeling tight across his chest. He reaches out, only having a little while longer of being alone with you before he has to pretend you’re just another agent-his employee. “It will be okay, hermosa.”

You nod, giving a brief, closed lip smile, wrapping your fingers around his. “I know.”

He squeezes your thigh once more, letting it rest there until they turn on to a dirt road. You tense, retracting your hand and breathing heavily through your nose. Closer and closer, you become rigid in your seat, watching the mirror to make sure the caravan of agents is still following.

“How far we going? Over.” Jason speaks through the radio, you jumping in your seat at the sound. Javier chooses to not answer, knowing that they are close and not wanting to call any further attention to themselves for those that may be listening in. He refuses to let this be another fuck up.

As his car continues down the road the trees become dense, the dirt turning to mud, and the radio picks up chatter that is new to him. Tilting his head to listen, his fingers subconsciously squeeze tighter around your leg. You grunt, grabbing at his wrist to indicate as such, but he holds on as the words through the radio become clearer.

“Someone is coming.”

“Get the boy somewhere safe.”

You frown, biting at your bottom lip and looking over to him. “The boy must be his son.”

Javier grunts, pulling his gun from his holster with one hand while keeping the steering wheel steady. You do the same with your own, holding on to the dash as Javier speeds up. If they already know that they are on their way, this likely will be a gunfight. “How old is he?”

“Less than 10. But his mother and his sister…” You trail off in confusion, looking ahead and contemplating internally. You come to a realization, shaking your head profusely before speaking. “I don’t know what those guys did, but if they are protecting the son exclusively–”

“Then Lorea may be dead.” Javier finishes your sentence, pulling the car off to the side of the road roughly. The other vehicles follow suit, everyone stepping out with weapons drawn and ready. “On foot, be ready. Supposed to be 20 guards.” He calls to the others, crouching low and leading you toward the house.

He’s relying on you, on your information that you’ve gathered so far. It should be good intel, and you don’t show signs that you think otherwise. Your hand is resting on his shoulder as you both team up, stepping through the greenery and mud methodically on the way to each building ahead.

You tap his shoulder and point, sliding your arm up so that he doesn’t have to look behind him. “Back security house, there should be 5 in there.”

He nods, glancing around quickly before bringing you toward the security building. You’re both crouched under each window, guarded and ready to take action. It’s silent, no movement to be heard beyond the wooden walls and he watches as you frown, trying to listen. You both step to the door, a silent countdown until he lifts his leg and kicks just below the handle, breaking down the door in one swift motion. He holds his gun ready, searching with it, leading and finding nothing.

No one.

You gasp behind him, his attention drawn to where you’re looking to find a poorly stacked amount of bodies and blood in the corner. It stinks, the smell permeating around him as he looks around and goes for the bathroom door. It’s unlocked, no one behind it.

You both stand there in awe, listening for anyone else to say something into your separate ear pieces, or for gunshots to be heard. Nothing comes and you’re back to shaking your head. He can see your inhale sharply, wincing as the smell circles around you. “This is…weird.” You admit, holstering your gun and looking to the pile of men again.

“I thought you said they were just here for the money.” Javi grunts, stepping out of the security house and poking his head around the corner. No one else is in sight, and no noise of their agents are around either.

“Maybe they…got caught?” You guess about Santiago and his crew, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s go to the main house.” Javi decides, stepping in front of you and holstering his own gun. If this is how one security house is, then so will the others, and he is less worried about being swarmed. He takes less careful steps toward the main house where the rest of his team went.

Redfly is dead, Frankie is freezing his ass off, and all he can think about is your god damned face. He knows Will and Benny are looking at him, wondering why Frankie isn’t as quick to answer them, why he’s being closed off, but he just can’t help it.

Santiago is too stuck in his own head to notice.

Redfly’s body is sitting just a few yards away, wrapped with a tarp and covered, but Frankie swears he can still see his open eyes after he was shot. The boy that shot him is long forgotten, down the mountain a ways and he feels guilty that he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would. Frankie is too focused on the fact that when he closes his eyes, it’s either you, or Tom’s dead eyes. There’s only a few more bags of money, and he’s having a hard time believing this was worth it.

“Tell me about your girl, Fish.” Benny calls, shoving his hands into his armpits to generate some heat. His hood ruffles in the wind, the fire from the money they were willing to burn flickering between them.

Frankie shakes his head, sniffling and looking down at his knees. They’re covered in dirt, cold and aching. “Don’t have a girl.” He knows it’s pointless, to even deny. But there’s a part of him that wants to keep you to himself, still. Maybe if he blows Benny off, then he won’t ask again.

He’s wrong, of course. Benny scoffs, shaking his head and looking at Will. “He had that girl Yovanna set up for the jungle in his motel room a few times.” The smile grows on Ben’s face, white teeth stark against the dark surrounding him.

“Not supposed to be mixing like that, Fish.” Will chastises, smiling anyway. The brothers and their matching smiles staring back at Frankie, taunting him.

Frankie keeps his mouth shut, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet. He takes a look over to Santiago and sees his eyes are on him too, curious as the others, and he sighs. They aren’t going to let it go, it seems. “Probably won’t see her again.” Frankie mumbles, his chin jutting closer to his chest to let some of his breath warm the inside of his jacket.

Benny laughs at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Sure you will, Fish. Keep your head on straight and you can come back down here, free as a bird, and see her again if you wanted.”

It’s silent while Frankie thinks, finally coming to the conclusion to tell them what he found out about you. “She…she was more than just what Yovanna hired.”

Yovanna was long gone, already on her way to Australia as far as they were all concerned. Benny quirks his eyebrow up at Frankie, glancing at Will and then giving a small shove with his shoulder against his, silently asking him to continue.

A sigh falls from Frankie’s lips, shaking his head before letting it fall out of his mouth. “She’s the Siren, from Miami.”

When he looks up at them their eyes are wide and stupefied. All watching him closely, confusion clear before a laugh bubbles out of Will. “No fucking way.”

Frankie nods, a small chuckle escaping. “Yovanna hired the DEA as her whore.”

Everyone is quiet for another moment, all eyes going to Santiago. Pope’s eyes widened, looking between them all and then a burst of laughter fell from his mouth.

Benny and Will join, all of them beginning to laugh around the blazing fire until one begins to wheeze. As it quiets down, Frankie realizes that all eyes are still on him waiting for further explanation. He looks at the three of them and sighs. “The only reason I found out was because her boss called her cellphone while she was in the bathroom.”

“What a shame.” Will said, shaking his head. “Could have gotten her killed if it wasn’t you.”

Frankie winces, remembering the knife pressed to your chest that he clutched in his hands. The fear in your eyes as blood pooled and dripped down doesn’t quite leave him as he says, “I mean, I almost did.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t.” Benny exclaims, slapping a hand over his back. “Would have to be running from the DEA rather than a bunch of drug lords.”

Frankie gives a half hearted laugh, looking out beyond the mountain and frowning. He wonders where you are, and if Javier Pena is keeping you safe. He glances over to Redfly, his body covered and supporting the weight of a single bag of money. He doesn’t think this was worth it after all.

Panic is coursing through you at the sight; men dead both DEA and Lorea’s, mop buckets dumped and water stained with blood. Drywall is ripped from most of the walls with stacks of money hanging haphazardly from the crumbling panels.

Javier’s mouth is open in shock, and the way you reach for him to hold yourself upright shocks you, the dizziness overwhelming. “What is….what?”

He’s shaken out of his thoughts with your touch, closing his mouth and holding your arm just above your elbow to keep you upright. He turns just as Jason steps past him. “What the fuck happened?”

Jason winces at his tone, cracking his neck. “Remaining security guards were ready for us, but most of these guys were already dead. Looks like they were cleaning up.”

“Lorea?” Javier presses, stepping toward Jason as if to pounce.

Jason doesn’t react, giving a half-hearted shrug. “Dead.” He points, moving toward the staircase. “Upstairs, if you want to see for yourself.” His eyes flash to yours sympathetically, then turning to go up the stairs.

Javier looks to you, squeezing your arm gently before letting go and leading the way to the master bedroom. You attempt to follow him, slowly climbing the stairs until Javier is out of sight ahead of you.

You’re sweating, clutching onto the stair rail and to the walls that are still standing as images of being in here only a few days ago go through your mind. It feels hard to breathe, seeing the blood smeared on the walls and the bodies piled in a corner or being moved by DEA men.

You weren’t used to this-only ever dealing with people that were alive and putting them behind bars. Never a raid like this-you weren’t ready for it.

You gasp, shocked as you step into the master bedroom where the dresser has been pushed to the side, the wall covered in holes and Lorea on the ground.

Behind his dead body is a dark room with still working security cameras, and a pile of money that has been combed through. The walls in the main bedroom have been torn from the studs, drywall and wood scattered around with torn and crumpled bills. It’s almost unbelievable, how things have been left. Did Frankie do this?

You begin shaking your head, whispering mostly to yourself, “I don’t understand.”

Javier comes up behind you, the stress and anger roiling off of his body before he gently grasps your arm. “Your friends got what they wanted out of this it looks like.” He gruffs out, pouting in a way that typically annoys you. Currently, you’re unsure if he’s angry and that alone stresses you out.

You turn to him, frowning. “This isn’t what I thought it would be Javi–”

“Don’t.” He stops you, turning to look at Jason and the others in the room who are still occupied. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose. When he turns back to you, you are now sure that he is angry, no question. “You need to go downstairs, go sit in the car. I have to do damage control with Stechner.”

You go to protest him, shaking your head defiantly. “Well, let me help–”

“No.” He huffs, adjusting his stance to stand farther away from you. “You’ve done enough.”

You step back blindly, looking over to Jason who is eyeing you curiously, David who is pretending to not notice and taking photos of Lorea. Tears begin to well in your eyes as you walk down the steps to the front corridor, stopping in your tracks at the opening.

You breath starts to come heavily, difficult to push past your mouth. You lean forward, hands on your knees and let some tears fall. This is not how this was supposed to go. Frankie was supposed to get in and out. They weren’t supposed to kill this many people.

You feel guilt roiling in your stomach, looking around briefly to see if anyone is watching you while uncontrollable tears are rolling down your face. You aren’t able to comprehend how this happened-you thought you did everything right. You did what you were told, as much as you were told with only a few hiccups along the way.

Frankie was a hiccup.

The idea that Javi had been right flashes through your mind, shaking your head at yourself almost immediately. No, that can’t be right. But how did you seriously believe that Frankie and all of them would just sneak in for money and leave without hurting someone?

Your heartbeat slows down as you lean against the door frame and look out into the jungle, watching the leaves sway in what little wind there was. You glanced toward the direction of Javier’s vehicle, not seeing a soul in the yard. Turning to look into the room you’re at the threshold of, you also didn’t see anyone.

Frankie had said they were here for a payday.

Your eyes lock on a hole in the wall, the plaster thrown about and piles of money stacked haphazardly in between the studs. You wonder why they didn’t take all the money, looking to a duffle bag that is currently empty, labeled “DEA” on the outside.

Your mind sparks with interest, looking over the duffle and finding yourself suddenly in front of the hole in the wall, duffle in hand. You give a final glance around, still alone, and begin blindly reaching into the wall and shoving the duffle full of money.

To be honest, you don’t really know what you’re doing. You keep hearing voices from above you, the movement of Javier, Jason and David, but it doesn’t stop you from almost filling the bag full.

You step out into the yard, trudging in the direction of Javier’s car and throwing the duffle into the floorboard of the passenger seat. Maybe this did go all to shit, and maybe you were going to lose your job, but you weren’t going to go empty handed.

Javier is trying desperately to keep his cool. He couldn’t help the coldness toward you when he asked you to go down to the car. He needed to start planning how he was going to handle Stechner.

That son of a bitch was going to fire him.

You were silent as you left, too dumb founded and concerned to really have anything else to say. He knew you weren’t prepared to see this; you had trusted what you were told more than you let on, it seems.

“Boss.” Jason tilts his head for him to come closer, looking back to the security cameras. “Looks like they haven’t deleted any files for the past week. We can likely see who did this–”

“I know who did this.” Javier huffs, crossing his arms and looking over his shoulder to see who is listening. “Get rid of them.”

Jason’s eyes widen, shaking his head briefly. “What? But we could–”

“If it is a week’s worth then she’ll be on it.” He bites out as quietly as he can manage. “And if we only get rid of her, it will look too suspicious to only have some of it. We have to get rid of it.”

“We could say it got damaged with gunfire, or that he was in the middle of reviewing and deleting–”

“No.” Javier finishes, feeling a throbbing in his head suddenly. Clean up was always the worst part with these raids, and now there were children involved. “All of it, gone. You have at max 30 minutes before Stechner starts rubbing our noses in it, so get it out of sight.”

Jason nods, agreeing that the wrath of Stechner’s connections was not worth throwing a rogue military special unit under the bus.

No matter how badly Javier wanted Frankie to suffer.

The pricklings of jealousy are roiling through him as he takes the stairs down, half expecting you to be standing there waiting for him in defiance. When he doesn’t find you, he takes a deep breath and leans against an open hole in the wall.

His eyes catch on the stacks of money, biting at the inside of his cheek at the temptation. Who would miss this, exactly?

There’s no opportunity, David coming down the stairs with paperwork and Jason following shortly behind him, confirming that everything had been deleted. Javier can feel his phone ringing in his pocket as he starts his trek to his car, the top of your head coming into view.

He looks down, seeing Stechner’s caller-id and silencing his phone automatically. His stride speeds up, launching his door open to see you leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, crying into your hands.

An ache in his chest takes over the frustration as he climbs into the driver’s seat placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck. You jump at the contact, lifting your head to look at him briefly before you try to suppress your tears.

“It’s okay, hermosa.” He coos, pulling your face toward his and pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

You try to suck in air harshly, wiping at your face and shrinking away from him. “This is all my fault.”

Javier isn’t as quick as he would like to say no, debating internally of whether or not to point out things he finds to be true. If you hadn’t stayed an extra day, not answering his phone call and spending it with Frankie, then maybe they would have captured Lorea, maybe they all would be keeping their jobs.

Instead he is silent, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the curve of the back of your neck, sighing. “Let’s go back to the office before we get in any more trouble.”

You’re sitting on Javier’s couch again, dumbstruck and numb.

You were fired, of course.

Being shipped back to Miami by the end of the week is what the ambassador had said. “You’re still welcome to work for the DEA there, but we have no further assignments for you here.”

Javier was the last to enter Noonan’s office, watching each of you get canned in different ways. David was being moved to another division, Jason was being shipped off to California, you were being sent home, and Javier…

You dreaded to think about what would be happening with his position.

He asked you to go to his place, slipping his key to you and brushing past your shoulder without another glance before he was called into Noonan’s office. You weren’t completely sure what Javier would want to say to you in the privacy of your home, and you hoped he understood.

You felt like a fuck up.

His door was pushed open before you had much more time to spiral, his suit jacket off and over his shoulder, his eyes finding yours. “Sorry, it took longer than I thought.”

“What did he say?” You ask quietly, beginning to pick at the skin around your thumbnail.

Javier clocks it, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and slipping off his shoes at the table. He strides over, giving a soft smile before settling next to you and grabbing for your hands. “He asked what I was thinking, asked if I thought stepping away from the cartels was worth what Lorea potentially had.”

“And?” You were impatient, clasping your hands tighter and worrying your bottom lip.

He shrugs. “I told him I had good intel, said it was worth the risk.” Your eyes can’t help but look over to the duffle bag you dropped by your other bag of belongings. He brings your attention back to him by saying, “Let me come home with you.”

You’re shocked, furrowing your brow and pulling your hands away from his. “What?”

“I quit, and I don’t want to go back to Texas just yet.” He shrugs, almost nonchalantly except you know better-his eyes are telling a different story. The apprehension behind them, the way they watch your facial expressions.

“I-I don’t know if I’m going to go back to Miami or not yet, Javi.” You sigh, looking to the floor. Part of you thinks you need to return to Utica, to hide away for as long as possible and forget about all of this. About the jungle, about Javier, about Frankie.

Javi’s hand brushes against your cheek, subconsciously leaning toward him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the snow.” He says quietly, smirking before correcting himself. “If you’ll have me.”

Your heart beats faster, tilting into him and smiling. “You wouldn’t even stop in Texas first?”

He shrugs. “Maybe for a week, to let my dad know what is going on but…I would meet you wherever you wanted me to.”

“Why?” The question falls out of your mouth, unable to be stopped. You and Javier had been back and forth, and you weren’t necessarily opposed to this–whatever this was.

It was mostly just complicated.

Javier smiles almost shyly at you, scratching his fingers at the base of your skull. “I care about you.” He says simply, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours but pulling back before fully committing to the act. His eyes searched yours, asking for permission.

You met him the rest of the way, leaning in to press your lips to his and shutting your eyes tightly. Javier groaned into your mouth, bringing his other hand up to the other side of your face and holding you to him.

He pulls away for a moment, face flushed and his eyes closed. “I don’t just care about you. I just…do you need me like I need you?” He questions, opening his eyes to look into yours.

They’re wide, a dark chocolate brown that you wish you could swim in to forget all your worries, but his question has you unsure. “I don’t know what you mean, Javi.”

He pulls away, clasping your hands in his again and running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “I mean that…if you and I aren’t in the same room, then I’m thinking about you.” You pauses, pressing his lips to one hand and then the other. “If you’re in trouble, then I want to get to you.”

Javier leans back forward, pressing his mouth to yours and letting his tongue swipe briefly around before mumbling against your lips. “And if you’re not the one on top of me then–”

“I get it.” You mumble back, pressing your lips back to his and bringing your fingers up to mess up his curls.

He groans again, his question forgotten as you straddle his thighs and slide a hand under his shirt and up to his chest.

You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, helping you undo your bra and remove everything from the waist up. His lips sear into the skin of your chest, burning into you like a brand.

It’s quick, faster than normal how you both become completely naked and his hands are squeezing at your hips to get you sinking on to his cock. His eyes are rolling back into his head as your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders, riding him slowly and carefully.

He squeezes your hips harder until you yelp, almost in pain, just so that he can hold you up and thrust himself into you instead of having you do the work.

The sweat covering you starts to cool with his breath fanning over you, both of you silent beyond grunts and moans. He’s focused on your center, his thumb snaking to your front to press gently into your clit, his eyes snapping up to watch you orgasm around him.

He follows you over that cliff, letting you collapse into him and his arms wrapping around your back, stroking up and down your spine.

It’s a moment or two before you lean upright, smiling down at him and brushing the fringe off of his forehead. “I think that I need you too.” You whisper, watching the smile spread across his face.

“Yeah?” He asks lightly, pressing a kiss in between your breasts before playfully biting at one nipple.

You laugh again, nodding along with him. “I think I’ll go to Miami to start, though. And you should go to Texas.”

He grumbles, half-heartedly agreeing before mumbling. “Yeah, okay.”

Two weeks later

You’re sitting cross legged in an almost empty apartment in Bogatá, packing up the final bag of your belongings. Another stack of money is being wrapped in a shirt, folded neatly with a pair of jeans as if nothing is wrong with it before being placed carefully into the suitcase.

You had put as much as you could into your bank account without raising suspicions, but the whole thing was nerve wracking to begin with. You phone is ringing incessantly somewhere, and you blindly reach for the last place you left it.

Pressing it to your ear, you answer. “Hello?”

“Hermosa.” Javier says through the speaker, a clear smile in his voice. “You lose your phone again? You need a new one?”

“No, no…” You trail off, looking to the turned off burner phone you had left on your kitchen table. You pick it up, fiddling with it as you pace. “How’s Texas?”

“Oh fine.” He grumbles, shuffling around something before the click of a door reaches your ears. “Wanted to make sure you were on your way to the airport.”

“Just about, the car is on it’s way.” The burner phone comes to life in your hands, the screen a bright blue before it settles and tells an incorrect time. “Everything is basically packed though.”

“Good.” Javier pauses and you can sense his nervousness.

“What is it Javi?” You ask with a small chuckle, crossing your arms.

“Just wanted to make sure it was still okay to fly to Miami in a week?” He asks. You can picture that he is running his hand through his hair right now. “You’ll only have been back a week, and I don’t want to impose–”

“You’re not!” You exclaim. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. Don’t back out on me.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughs, then launching into something his father did the night before and complaining that he is getting called by the Sheriff’s office to become a deputy. “They want me? A retired DEA agent?”

“Well your ass would look great in their uniforms.” You coo, zipping up the suitcase and setting it by the door.

He grumbles, complaining a bit more before finally asking for you to have a good flight, and to let him know when you have landed, even with the time difference.

You make the promise, hearing someone honk at the front door and hanging up quickly before exiting the apartment and tossing the key under the mat.

After loading up your bag and getting comfortable in the back seat, your phone begins to ring again. You groan out loud, looking down to your hand where you are still holding the burner phone and your daily phone, and see that it is not the one you had expected. The number is not one you know, and obviously not saved in the contacts, but your heart begins to beat faster.

The burner rings for a third time before you snap out of wondering who it could be, flipping it open and bringing it to your ear. You listen for a moment, frowning when there is no clear indication of who it could be. “Hello?”

A sigh you’ve heard. “‘You alright?” Frankie gruffs through the speaker, quiet but calm.

“How the hell did you get this number?” You ask just as quietly.

“Remembered a few digits. Sue me.” He bites back, and you feel yourself heating at the thought. Frankie as he looked through your phone to see Javi calling you over and over, also going to the settings to find what the number to the phone was. You’re not sure if the heat is anger or want.

“What the fuck happened?” You launch into questioning him, asking why they had done what they did, trying to not frighten the driver that was pretending to not listen.

“It got all screwed up, and I ended up more broke than before.” He sighs after listening to your rant, your questions drilling into him. You think that maybe he is actually relaxed somewhere, resigned.

You glance down to your purse between your feet, some of the money you had taken in your own wallet. “You didn’t even get any of it?”

“Oh, we got some. Lots, even.” He laughs ruefully. “But it was too much for the helicopter, and Redfly died and–we got enough to get us out of there.”

You hum, slightly disappointed for him. You think briefly that you should tell him you were able to get some of the cash, but then quickly decide against it.

The driver pulls up into the airport temporary parking, popping the trunk and pulling out your bags for you.

“Frankie, I have to go.” You sigh.

“Where?” He scoffs, not believing you.

You roll your eyes, looking around and seeing that driver has already left, and you’re about to be late for security. “I have to get on this flight. Go home.”

“Miami?” He asks, suddenly excited.

“Well, yeah I–”

“Let me pick you up.” He interrupts.

You pause, standing on the sidewalk with the burner pressed to your ear, your other phone in your hand. Finally, after a long moment of silence with Frankie patiently waiting on the other end, you’ve decided.

“My flight lands at 4.” You confirm.

You almost hear him smiling. “I’ll be there.” He says quietly, a silent promise following his words.

You click the phone shut, looking around you briefly before tossing the burner into the nearby trash, stepping toward the entrance to get your bags checked. Frankie could memorize your new number later.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #crossover #frankie morales x reader #htcf

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moonstruck-poet · 5 months

Text

Unexpected Surprise

Pairing - Tom Hiddleston x reader!

Summary -

Warnings -

Tysm for the lovely request anon and sorry it took so long<33 I really hope it was as per your wishes

"Tom? Can you come in here for a minute please?" Your voice called out through the apartment and footsteps followed.

"Yeah?" He popped his head in the bedroom and laughed at the scene before him. His son and daughter sitting on the bed, their hair covered in what look like white snow.

While you stood in front of them, trying to be stern but he saw you biting your lip to prevent laughter. Your one year old boy nestled in your arms, somehow sleeping peacefully amidst all the chaos.

"Now what happened here hmm?" He sauntered inside with a curious expression and looked at the twins, crossing his arms.

"Pillow fight!" They chorused and raised their little arms above their heads and your heart melted.

"Okay," he walked closer to the children, taking baby steps and you understood his next intentions immediately and you stepped back, wrapping both of your arms around your baby.

"Then let's go for a round two!" They barely had time to process his statement before he grabbed a small pillow and threw it softly at the two.

They retorted quickly, standing up and squealing as they joined forces to attack their father making you laugh at the unity.

James stirred and your palm went to cover his ears as you exited the room and went into his nursery, sitting on the small bed.

A smile made its way on your lips as you admired your little creation. The soft curls atop his head similar to yours while his baby blue irises a carbon copy of your husband's. This had been the case with the twins too. They both had inherited your hair and his eyes.

His little fist was holding tightly onto your finger as you slowly rocked him, luring him into a deep sleep though you didn't worry too much. He was quite a heavy sleeper, much like yourself.

You caressed his head, your heart squeezing when he leaned right into your hand. He clearly was a mama's boy.

All of your children were actually. They of course loved Daddy, but could only ever stop crying in your presence.

The door opened softly and in entered your husband. You heard the silence that followed his entrance and knew that Jeremiah and Isabella were sound asleep.

"Hey," you murmured once he sat close next to you, his head resting on your shoulder and his finger touching his little one's cheek.

"Hi," he whispered back and raised his head to look you right in the eye making your breath hitch. Even after all these years, his charm was still the same.

But then you noticed his face falling as he scanned your face making your smile drop slightly in self consciousness as you desperately looked at him for an answer.

"What- What's wrong?"

He shook his head and took James, holding him carefully and placing him in his crib before facing your questioning expression. Then sitting down in front on you, he took your hands in his.

"How are you feeling?" He asked and you frowned the question.

"I'm fine, I feel okay..." You answered back, not sure where he was getting at.

"You look exhausted, my love," he cupped your cheeks, his thumb caressing them as he delivered the statement as gently as possible.

You got up from the bed in urgency, wanting to take a look at yourself. And what Tom said what indeed true. You looked like you've been through a hurricane.

"Christ," you said under your breath, taking note of every tiny change that had occured since the past months. "I look terrible".

"No don't say that," he reprimanded and snaked his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your jaw. "What you need, is a nice holiday all for yourself. I want to hit myself for not bringing this up sooner, but you need time for yourself, love".

You agreed with every word of his, but how could it be possible now? With your children still bring too young.

"We don't have time now," you turned around, bringing him closer by the neck.

"Yes we do," he said firmly. "Jere and Isa are almost three and James is young but he's a calm one you know that. And you also know just how much they love their grandparents".

"That's true," you sighed and buried your face in the crook of his neck, not realising just how much you had missed this.

"You need to take some time out for yourself, and I think a nice little vacation is the perfect solution. You're out here taking care of all os us, so it's only fair even that I take care of my beautiful wife".

You laughed softly, your lips brushing against his ear, "Okay".

"Leave the planning to me and go and get some sleep," he kissed your forehead and your heart squeezed at the thought of having such a loving and caring husband.

===============================

The vacation that you had taken nearly three months ago was a well deserved and needed holiday. The coasts had helped your mental state immensely.

And you were currently glowing.

You had also started to slowly go back to your earlier routines. Going for a walk in the morning with Bobby, trying to hit the gym atleast thrice a week, and just doing all the things that you were doing previously.

"Jere!" You called your three-year-old, "Will you get the spoons from Daddy please?"

"Yes!" He answered enthusiastically and ran up to his father, handling the cutlery with care and taking tiny footsteps towards you.

"Thank you sweetheart," you smiled at his adorable expression.

"What's for dinner?" Isabella ran from the living room towards the dining table and sat herself down her designated seat.

"It's my speciality if you please," Tom said in a posh accent, bringing plates exactly how a waiter would making the kids giggle.

Isa gently tickled James who was sitting on the high chair and he squirmed away from her hand, laughing happily.

"Hey stop tickling Jamie!" Jeremiah said playfully, ready to defend his brother but his twin merely poked out her tongue.

You smiled at one half your universe seated right in front of you and the other half soon joined in the picture making tears well up in your eyes.

God your hormones were a real mess today. You felt like crying since the morning.

The dinner was indeed a wonderful affair and currently it was only you and your husband, sitting on the couch and watching Iron Man together.

"No look at him," you frowned upon seeing your favorite character's face fall as he looked at his dead friend.

"You know I think you might love him more than me".

"I do".

He raised an eyebrow and you prevented a laugh, about to retort when your eyes widened amd you slapped a hand on your mouth to rush towards the bathroom.

The sudden wave of nausea had taken you aback and threw up all the things you had ate just a few hours ago.

"Love?" Tom was immediately behind you with a frown on his face. "Oh you okay?" He asked, heavily concerned upon seeing your extremely pale face.

"I- I don't know," you took a deep breath, feeling a lack of oxygen in your lungs. "I feel lightheaded," your hand went to grip the side of your head as you swayed and he steadied you.

"Should we go to the clinic? You need to see a doctor," he murmured, watching as you rinsed your mouth and brushed your teeth.

"No I- I'm fine," you sighed and leaned against the wall, eyes closing in fatigue. "We'll go tomorrow if I'm still unwell".

He nodded, though his forehead was creased with worry as he guided you towards you room. Not even thinking of sleeping until he had made sure you were alright.

The next morning your condition was stable, but it soon fell quickly when you had smelt something that was overly sweet and nauseating making you vomit. Again.

"We should go," Tom whispered as he rubbed your back and you nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Mumma? Daddy what's wrong with Mumma?" Isa asked with wide eyes and Jere was right behind her.

"She's not feeling well, love," he answered and leaned down before them, noticing the way their eyes glistened.

"Mumma," Jere's shaky whisper caught your attention amd you looked at your twins who were on the verge of crying.

"Oh hey no," you said and despite the throbbing pain in your temple, crouched down and they ran into your outstretched arms. "I'm okay, my tummy's just a little upset, yeah?"

"We're gonna go visit the doctor now," Tom added and wiped their tears. "Till then Grandma and Grandpa will be here, okay?"

They nodded and the parents bid them goodbye, once Tom's parents had arrived. James was luckily asleep, otherwise he would certainly have thrown a fit.

The doctor, who was your family physician did some tests, asking about your symptom. All during the process she appeared quite calm while you were unsettled.

"There's nothing to worry about, Mr and Mrs Hiddleston," she addressed the couple with a small smile. "It appears that you are pregnant," she said to you, her face beaming.

"P- Pregnant?" You stammered and her smile fell at your reaction and she excused herself as your turned your head to look at your husband who was equally shocked.

This was really unexpected and not planned at all. You had completed your family with three beautiful children and neither of you wanted another.

"We- We discussed. We didn't-" He couldn't find the words to explain, probably because his mind itself was muddled.

The new wave of emotions hit you hard and tears had slipped down your defenses. You dug your palms into your eyes, not bring able to grasp this entire situation.

It was a huge thing. Maybe would brush it off and say, what's the big deal? But no, of course it was a big deal. A child was going to be entering this world.

"Say something!" Your fingers wrapped around his bicep and you shook him. "I'm pregnant with our child, Hiddleston and you're there just sitting silently!"

"What am I supposed to do?" He didn't raise his voice at all, addressing you calmly but there was an edge to it.

"What are we gonna do, Tom?" You said rather fiercely and looked at him who was staring at you. "What's going to happen now? What the hell are we going to do? We didn't plan this, and had no ideas that this could happen and now I'm pregnant and there's a child inside me and-"

"Hey hey hey," he shook himself out of his trance and grabbed you by the shoulders, trying to bring your mind back from an oncoming panic attack.

"We didn't plan this," he nodded. "But now it has happened, love and I don't think we can do anything now".

"I know!" You said helplessly, "But Tom just think. We already have three toddlers at home and now there's gonna be another in under a year".

He simply paid rapt attention, gesturing for you to continue which made you even more upset for some reason.

"Please say something," you whispered, tears clouding your vision.

He didn't, but instead took you gently into his arms and the emotions flooded out in an instant. His eyes too were glistening but he disregarded that. His sole focus being you. "Calm down, love. I think I know what's troubling you, hmm?"

"I know too," you answered after taking a deep breath and inhaling his comforting scent that was anchoring you.

"Bu we're gonna do everything properly okay? We're gonna be the best parents to our children and this little one that's in there," he said and laid his palm across your lower abdomen.

"Yeah," you nodded, breaths uneven as you tried to steady yourself. "I'm just worried that maybe, just maybe we won't be able to give time to them all, we won't be able to love all of them equally".

"I understand, darling. But that won't happen, ever. We'll make sure of it, together. You are gonna be such a great mum, yeah?"

You smiled, looking up at and seeing the love in his baby blue irises was enough to melt you on the spot.

"I love you, Tom," you said softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek.

"I love you too, so so much," he replied, a smile stretching across his lips as he wiped your tears away, thumb caressing your cheek. "You're my entire world, sweetheart. Don't you ever forget that".

"And you're mine".

===============================

#fanfiction #tom hiddleston ff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x wife reader #tom hiddleston comfort #tom hiddleston x reader pregnant #Thomas william hiddleston

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randoauthor · 2 years

Text

Venom (T.K)

Pairings: Iceman x Fem!Reader, Platonic!Viper x Fem!Reader

Warnings: so many. PIV. sex, swearing. probably more ;)

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: I for some reason poured my heart into this one and I feel like it's because I was already exhausted and then took some melatonin on top of it so yeah.

Summary: There's a new recruit at Top Gun, a female nonetheless. She drives the boys wild, and her mysterious nature and her off-limits rules make her stand out to the ones that like to play hard to get. The biggest thing they don't know is the one rule of mother nature. What's the one thing Vipers produce? Venom.

MasterList!

"Boys," Viper's voice came through the room, stern and strong. He stood tall in front of all of us his demeanor shifting slightly when the door opened.

Holy shit.

The black hair had been pulled into a tight bun. Her stature was tall, and she appeared closed off in the way of never letting anything on. Her eyes were a piercing blue and her skin was a soft tan. She smiled at the sight of Viper and made her way to the front of the room.

"(Y/N) Metcalf, callsign Venom."

I took a small glance over to Slider whose eyes couldn't be any bigger than they were. A hand shoots up into the air. Viper sends a sharp nod to Maverick's way.

"How off limits is she?" He questioned. A smirk displayed itself across Viper's face as he lead his daughter to a seat in the front row.

"She is very off-limits boys, if you so much as look in her direction I will have your ass packing before you can ask why."

Pete gave a sharp nod before looking over at his buddy, the two of them ogling at her for the rest of the lesson.

By the time we headed to change our first problem arose.

"Where the hell was she supposed to change?" Slider asked, rather loudly.

She chuckled slightly before looking at me. My breath disappeared from my lungs in an instant as her shirt lifted above her head, her bra was a light pink and I learned very quickly that it matched the thong she was wearing too.

Fucking hell.

"She's gonna be the death of me," I whisper to Slider as we get ready just two locker rows down from the beauty that was untouchable.

***

And not only was she beautiful but she could fly better than all of us. It made sense that she was Viper's kid. She was graceful in the air and once she was on the ground you could ask her any question you wanted to ask and shed come up with some kind of an answer for you.

She was magnificent. She was beautiful. She was Viper's daughter.

I couldn't ruin my chance at Top Gun but at the same time, she give me literally every reason to ruin my chances.

Today was no different than any other except for the fact that she didn't have much of a uniform. Not like ours. Her khakis came in the form of a tight pencil skirt that cupped her ass so beautifully that I thanked god every time I saw it.

"Iceman," Viper's voice pulled me from the thoughts I really shouldn't be having.

If she sounds so pretty over the comms I wonder how pretty she'd sound moaning my name?

No, no I can't think like that. If Viper only knew I'd be out of here so fast.

"You're flying with Venom today, Slider has some personal business to attend to." I glance over at her, those piercing blue eyes already staring back at me. I give Viper a nod before preparing myself to be up in the air, alone with her.

"So," she said catching up to me as we head to the locker room, "you've been awfully quiet. The famous Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, a total ladies' man can't even open his mouth around me?"

I offer her a smile before keeping my eyes straight again. We take the longest in the locker room.

"What's your problem Kazansky?" She sounds frustrated. "I am trying my hardest to show I am interested in you and you don't even bat an eye at me. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I slam my locker in frustration only to reveal the female pilot, who seemed just as mad as me.

I ran my hands through my hair as I let out a frustrated breath of air.

"Maybe if you let even more hot air out, your head will get smaller." She shot at me, breaking something inside of me.

Within seconds I had her pinned to a locker, my hand gently around her throat as she let out a surprised gasp, her eyes growing wide at my outburst. My other hand finds her waist in a relatively firm grip. I lean in closer, so very close that I can smell the strawberry chapstick she always wore.

"I have been watching you for two weeks now, I have been wanting you for two weeks." I lean in for just a moment for our lips to touch and I was already hooked.

"For two weeks," I say looking into those blue eyes again, "for two weeks I have been wondering what you would sound like moaning my name while I fucked you."

I hear her breath catch in her throat ever so softly and for once I let my mind go wild.

My lips nibble gently at the sweet spot on her neck, my hands applying a gentle pressure to the sides of her throat. Her soft gasp made me want to take her right then and there, but soft footsteps approached.

And Viper opened the door.

He gave us just enough time to look more casual then I felt but I did my best to hide the ever growing bulge in my pants. This girl drove me crazy and the smirk on her face let me know that she knew it too.

"What are you two doing?" Viper questioned with one raised eyebrow.

"Nothing dad," she said in such a soft voice that I fell more to jelly than before. "Iceman and I were discussing strategy, it is you we are going up against after all."

Viper smiled at his daughter and gave a sharp nod before leaving the room in a hurry.

"As for you," she said, attention returning to where it had to be. "I don't fuck pilots usually, but something about you is different." She shot me the prettiest smile I've ever seen. "We can't do anything here it's too risky, I however have an entire floor to myself. Meet me tonight?"

I gave her a nod, a sharp fast nod.

I saw all of her that night. I saw her and I heard her and with every thrust into her I made I drove myself more crazy then the thrust before.

***

It's been two weeks since then, and after the events of today I haven't said a word to her.

We usually go at it every night but tonight was different, tonight was different because we were all forced to take a good long look at how our lives have turned out so far and if we are really okay dying tomorrow because of it.

The Navy was no joke, the things we did on a daily basis, putting our lives on the line.

Lieutenant Nick Bradshaw died today. And I was in the air with him.

I know she's asking about me, I know somewhere right now her father is questioning why she seems so concerned about another pilot.

In his eyes we are nothing more then pilots.

I had been drinking, slider having gone home a while ago just stopping by to see how I was holding up before heading off to the bar to pick up a new girl for the night. By my fourth glass I realized that the knocking wasn't my imagination.

She seemed tired when our eyes met. She had clearly been crying but I was not about to be the one to point that out to her. The sweatshirt she wore was huge on her but she seemed so cozy. I never said anything. Instead I took a step forward and found my hand in the crook of her neck, I lingered for just a moment more before finally allowing my lips to find hers. This time it feels different, this kiss is saying everything she won't.

I could have died today.

"Tom," she says pulling away from me slightly, those damn eyes making me melt again. "Make love to me."

And thats exactly what I did.

I pulled her inside before pressing her softly against the wall, my hands resting on her hips as I lazily find her lips again. This time was so different then the rest, the other times I have torn her clothes off by now, taken her right against this wall. But this time? This time I trail my lips down her neck finding that sweet spot just as easily as day one.

Her soft whimper made my heart beat faster and I grabbed her hand, leading her to the bedroom. God I wish I had fucked her here sooner. I didn't have any lights on, but the slight glow from the streetlights outside gave us just enough of a sense of where we where in the room, enough for her to sit on the edge of the bed. Enough for me to find my way on top of her. My lips found her neck first this time, carefully trailing down to the collar of her shirt.

"May I?" I ask softly, the soft whimper I earn in response tells me everything we need to know. I pull it over her head to reveal that she isn't wearing anything underneath it. I thank god and curse him at the same time.

While on hand finds her breast I let the other hold her close, her chest rises and falls more rapidly as my mouth moves from her neck down her chest, rolling her free nipple between my teeth while my hand gently plays with the other one.

The soft moans she was allowing to escape her mouth were intoxicating. And I knew that while I could continue to drag this out I wouldn't last much longer. I find her lips one more time before pulling myself off her, walking over to the night stand I pull out the empty box of condoms.

"Fuck." I say softly tossing the box to the side.

"It's okay," she smiles, "I'm on the pill."

I stand there for a moment weighing my options before taking my shirt off, discarding it to the floor. My pants eventually find their way to the floor too. She had taken her pants off at some point during my scuffle with the condom box.

I found myself above her again, her naked body proving to be a temple for me to explore and the anguish that was released as I pushed past her folds and plunged deep into her was insane.

I clung to her like she was my final source of oxygen and I was in outer space. I buried my head in the crook of her neck letting all my fear from today vanish within her. Each thrust grew harder as I kept my slow pace, her hands finding my back. At this moment in time I didn't even care if she left marks, I could deal with the torment in the locker room tomorrow. Her soft whimpers danced through my ears and coaxed a few sounds out of me too.

I could feel her nearing her high, after being inside her so frequently these past four weeks I have been able to learn her every move, know her every cue, love her every noise.

And the breathy whimpers she was letting out told me that I was doing everything right. Her hand moves to my forearm gripping it tight as her whimpers turn to shaky exhales of her breath, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and her back arched enough that it her chest met mine.

I held her as she came undone, and with a few more fast strokes I found myself falling apart inside of her.

I rested my forehead against hers before giving her a breathy kiss, both of us trying to find enough oxygen to say anything at all. But we don't. It's not like there is much that could be said, not after today at least.

I pull her close to me again after cleaning ourselves up. The twin size bed not offering us much room to move but neither of us cared. I let her fall asleep listening to my heartbeat. I fall asleep with my hands tangled in her hair.

When I wake up in the morning she is gone, her clothes missing from my floor. I pull myself out of bed a prepare myself for another day when a pair of pink lacy panties catch my eye.

Because they are the same ones she was wearing the day I met her.

I smile before picking them up off their perch, only to find a note sitting underneath it.

Tom,

Last night was different, it was better, it was real. And I want that for the rest of my life. I'll see you in class.

Venom.

Sitting next to her name was a taunt. A taunt consisting of red lipstick in the shape of those lips I love to kiss so much. She is definitely living up to her call sign.

Because she is going to be the death of me.

Taglist!

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3-2-whump · 2 months

Text

The New Intern

A shorter chapter, set three months after Escape Attempt Last

Heckin' big shoutout to @whumped-by-glitter for helping me talk out some plot points and develop my OCs' struggles a little better, you're awesome for that!

TW/CW: minor whump, pet whump, physical abuse towards a minor (mentioned)

“So, I come home today,” Thomas began, drinking and playing pool with his underboss, consigliere, and capos late at night. “Exhausted from negotiating with that upstart gang on the East Side, stressing about our loss of gambling revenue from our partners, and generally just on edge, and what do I come home to find?” The billiard balls clattered discordantly across the table, rolling around on their haphazard trajectories. “Khaled, that little shit, had left all the taps on! Every last one! My apartment, flooded!” He threw back another shot as he let Luca have a turn at the pool table. “And after I finished beating him black and blue, the only excuse the boy could give was ‘I was bored!’ Can you believe that? Bored?!” he complained.

The rest of the guys exchanged terse glances between themselves.

“Well,” the Boss snapped, “I know you want to say something, so say it! We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“Fine then, friend,” Consigliere Michael answered, “You’re an idiot if you didn’t see this coming!”

“I agree,” Jaime chimed as he threw back his shot. “The poor kid has been cooped up in your home, by himself, all day, for the past fifteen months; we’re all honestly surprised something like this hasn’t happen sooner!”

“Nobody would keep a dog in a cage all day,” Michael added, striking the cue ball into his intended targets. Thomas winced at the blunt comparison. He’s not wrong, though, he realized.

“Tom, buddy, we’ve known you your whole life, practically,” Luca appealed. “Some of us even knew you in those years, and we still stuck by you. We know you got him as a sort of penitence exercise, but we think you’re smart enough to know it is not enough for you to just keep him alive.” Meanwhile, Jaime chalked up the tip of his cue, then leaned over to make his shot. “The boy needs to see other people, to have structure, to be surrounded by English-speakers if his language proficiency is ever going to improve!”

Jaime sent the billiard balls clacking across the table. Thomas sighed, realizing (a little too late) that they were completely right. “Well, what do you suppose I do? It’s not like I can just bring him to work with me, right?”

“Gentlemen, this is Khal, my new intern. He is going to be working closely with me for the foreseeable future.”

Khaled bristled beside him, feeling uncomfortable in the stiffly pressed black dress shirt and black slacks. Every eye in his master’s conference room was on him. Those that knew who he was arched their brows as they gave their Boss sly smiles of approval. Those that did not know who he was pared him down with their scrutinizing glares. He gave a curt nod, acknowledging the crowd of high-ranking members of the Organization. He replayed the Rules in his head as he tuned out the rest of the meeting. Lucky for me, Master only has a few: one, when invited to sit, sit on the floor, preferably at Master’s feet. He briefly paused his recitation to wonder just how much Rule One would be enforced while at work, with other people watching. Two, speak only when spoken to, especially at work. Three, speak English only. And the new Rules, he remembered, made specifically for their new circumstances: only refer to Master as ‘Boss’ or ‘Sir’ while I’m at work with him, and tell no one what I truly am. As far as they know, I am his intern, I was hired through a temp agency, and that is all they need to know.

“Khal…Khaled!”

He snapped back into the present, only to see Master –Boss, he meant –staring at him expectantly. His heartbeat quickened as he realized he zoned out longer than he intended to. Of course, there was the ever-present unspoken Rule, the Rule above all other Rules:

‘Don’t embarrass me.’

He gulped down the dryness in his throat. “S-sir?”

“Come on, I need to show you the rest of the office,” Boss said. Khaled looked around the conference room; nearly everyone had filed out at this point, leaving him dumbly standing on the far end of the room as the Boss gestured impatiently out the door. Wordlessly, he offered a quick nod and hung his head as he followed him.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter

#a bridge of sorts #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #tw minor whump #pet whump #tw physical abuse #only mentioned though #no beta we die like my protestant upbringing

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myfandomprompts · 10 months

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟓)

Summary: It's time for Tom to go home, but crossing France is no easy task. You are back on the road again but you're not alone. Previous part - Masterlist

Tags: fluff, mention of death, death scenery

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 for betareading. It's been fun to write for him again.

French spoken -> italics

There was something infuriating about crossing France at such a pace.

In fact, as soon as Tom and Giulia had gotten out of the American Hospital, there had been a lot of hiding and waiting for hours while the Germans settled in Paris like they were at home. When they finally reached the outwards of Paris, dark had fallen again and over the next few days they barely had been able to sleep.

Now, Tom and Giulia were walking across a field, the morning fog sticking to the wheat around them and the warm sun of June already peeking behind the woods they were headed towards. Tom’s hands were cold, so he put them in his pockets where the two cigarette packets rested safely, his fingers grazing them like they were a source of comfort.

“Where are we?”

Giulia didn’t turn around, trotting in front of him with purpose. “Nearing Etampes, we’ve still got a few kilometres to go.”

Tom felt silly for his question, for he had no idea what that meant for them. All he knew was that they would go as south as possible and get transportation once beyond the Demarcation Line, where France was said to be “free”, and that would be the most difficult task according to his guide.

He liked her. She was not really talkative but he didn’t care much, rather satisfied to remain with his own thoughts as they crossed the countryside. It was obvious she was smart from what he could tell, handy, and he was kind of grateful that she was here, leading him and risking her life to help him escape.

She also had figured him out quite quickly, to his greatest discontent. “We would go faster if you’d stop looking over your shoulder all of the time,” she stated as she crossed the hem of the woods they had finally reached.

Tom scowled, fastening his pace to catch up with her. “Maybe you should stop gawking at me and focus on our itinerary, eh? Wouldn't want us to get lost.”

“We won’t be lost as long as you stay close, and don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed. “It’s like you're expecting something or someone to catch up with us. Trust me, the Germans are already ahead, or too busy north."

Tom found no witty response to retort as he looked at the green of the trees around him. Maybe he was not walking as fast as she was because he was indeed reluctant to gain speed, and maybe he was looking over his shoulder because he expected someone to appear behind him. Just… late to the party, maybe.

He closed his fingers around the packets more tightly as he jumped over a tree trunk.

Several hours later, when the sun was at its zenith, they had left the series of dry fields and forests and had emerged on a green path, where queues of people walked at a slow pace right before them.

Both him and Giulia came to a stop, observing as passed people of all ages and sizes, entire families, sometimes with bags, sometimes bereft of it, sometimes lucky enough to have an animal or a bike to carry it. He watched as a frail and exhausted-looking woman gave water to the infant in her arms, dusty and crying from fatigue as the heat weighed on them. Next to them, a half-burned car was abandoned on the side of the road, slowing down the advancement of the scattered mass. Tom could hear the roar of working automobiles somewhere further down the road and the neigh of horses.

“What… are they doing?” he asked, lips parted as he watched a child crunch a piece of bread between his teeth like it was stone.

“Fleeing,” Giulia answered, “Or going home. One of the two options. Come on.”

They jumped over the ditch that separated them from the road and began merging with the travellers, joining the queue of Belgians and French people that had fled the bombing of their home for months, and were now at a loss about what to do and where to go, Germans at every corner of the road.

You looked at your watch with impatience, seeing the sun filter through the thick curtain of the train window with Henriette seated across from you, anxiously looking around.

You felt the train slow down, and soon the sign of Chartes train station appeared as the wagon came to a full stop. You and Henriette didn’t move, watching as some people stood up to retrieve their bags and get off the train one after the other until a railwayman entered your wagon shouting.

“Terminus messieurs dames, veuillez descendre s’il vous plaît, le train n’ira pas plus loin!”

You exchanged a panicked glance with your friend, feeling the other remaining passengers stand up around you with murmured questions.

“What is happening? Why is the train stopping here? It’s too soon!”

You gave your friend a sharp shake of your head before grabbing your bag from above your head and making your way to exit the train, Henriette hot on your heels. The platform was crowded, so much so that you felt compelled to take the nurses’ hand in order not to lose her. People were coming in and out of the train station, some complaining and some looking around with anguish. You made your way to the billboard where hours of travel were displayed with difficulty, having to use your shoulders with force to do so.

“Excuse me, what is happening?” you approach a man that was already examining the sign with narrowed eyes.

“I’m afraid that there are no trains left in this station going south. Bridges blown up and orders from… above,” he trailed, a disgusted look on his face. “They don’t want people fleeing any more. Made them all stop until they got the system right.”

You felt dread fill you before thanking him and exiting the train station, watching helplessly as groups of people began unpacking food and looking around for cars to rent, rooms to lodge in, or officers to yell at. The rest only walked away to an adjacent street.

“Y/N, what do we do? We are a long way from Poitiers, and we have no transport.”

You tightened your grasp around your bag, looking at the people disappearing at a corner.

“Like everybody else. We walk.”

The walk was tiresome, but it was nothing compared to the many travellers you crossed paths with, those from the Exode who had been on the roads for weeks, months even, and had lost everything, all of this trying to escape a fight that caught up with them in the end.

But generosity was as current as grief in this time of need and you found lodging in a little shop prepared for refugees when night came, its shelves empty from the lack of resupply due to the German advancement. You couldn't say that it was comfortable but at least you could lie down, a luxury some did not have when they came down south, and you and Henriette exhaled in relief when you finally put down your bags and rested.

Food was what came to lack most rapidly, and when you took the road again in the morning under a hot bright sun, your water was running out as well, and several hours later, you were happy to find in the next village a pretty little square with a water pump available. Only, many more had that idea, and the queue to reach the precious liquid was long, so you were left to wait and listen to what was said around you.

“83, she was…slaughtered on the spot. Such a shame…”

You turn to look at the man talking, a tall middle-aged man wearing a hat protecting him from the sun, a thick flask hanging around his shoulder by a leather strap. He was recounting the story of what happened in a nearby village a week ago to a group of travellers, and you approached to listen as well.

“What happened?” asked a woman with a quiet voice.

“Refused to let them occupy her house, that’s all. She lost her husband in the Great War, couldn’t stomach a Boche, kept her head high she did… They dragged her out of her home and shot her. Bloody animals…” he trailed off as everybody looked down, you and Henriette mirroring them. “For me, she was the first resistant, didn’t wait for de Gaulle’s call to start acting.”

The queue moved a little bit more before you and you took a few trembling steps forwards, clutching your bag between your arms. You thought about your brother, somewhere is the north, either dead, made prisoners or lost. You thought about your parents who had travelled far away from the fight that had probably reached them by now, and you hoped they were safe. You thought about Tom, who had survived worse days and you muttered a little prayer between your lips to thank that he was still alive.

All around you it was all tales of how the Germans had cut through the countryside at lightning speed and didn’t even bother killing civilians in the process, dispersing them as much as they could. Each story had you hang on every word that one stranger or another said as you patiently waited your turn to quench your thirst.

Tom looked around, his height enabling him to see above the sea of heads around him, waiting for the same thing they did, and let out a sigh before lowering himself down to level Giulia’s ear.

“You lot have a knack for being slow, I reckon,” he said without making any effort to whisper, and his travelling partner immediately gave him a dark look.

Tom sneered, rolling his shoulders as he raised himself up again while she went back to ignoring him, hands firmly holding the bag on her back and waiting patiently for their turn.

But Tom was not as patient, and most of all, he was bored. He had just finished his first packet of cigarettes, and he found nothing else to do than to look around.

He had to admit, the place was beautiful. Trees bordering the courtyard, the fountain in its middle, the yellow walls of the building around them reflecting the pavements under their feet that shone with the sunlight. But, however pretty it was, all screamed panic around him, something unnatural as families waited for their turn to fill up their bottles with water, asking around for things he could not understand and he wished that Giulia would talk more. Teasing her was the sole thing that amused him lately, but she was reluctant to speak English when they were in public.

So he was left with looking over his shoulder and taking in the scenery, fingers playing inside with the content of his pockets and humming to himself. His smile dropped when he spotted a familiar head of hair and profile standing near a wall next to a man with an impressive moustache.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed the box in his hands harder as he felt his heart leap in his chest. Was this real, or was he just too thirsty to see clearly? The woman was all he saw now, her hair flowing carelessly in the wind and a heavy bag hanging at her side, eyes raised at the man before her and nodding comprehensively.

“Tom!” he heard Giulia hiss under her breath behind him when his feet led him out of the waiting line and straight to the group near the wall. When he approached and heard your voice, he suddenly felt like he was not on the run any more, but back at home.

“Oui, passed the fence and the bridge, and then Germans at every corner. They’re starting to organise themselves, the noose is tightening,” spoke the moustache man.

“What about Poitiers? Is it beyond the line?”

Tom let the man answer you with what sounded like gibberish to him and came to stand right behind you, a bright smile on his face when he smelled the scent of your hair mixed with days of travelling.

“Can’t seem to shake me off, eh?”

You freeze before you turn around, slowly at first and when your eyes examine him your lips parts in mid surprise, making Tom smile more broadly as he sees your eyes soften at the sight of him.

“M. Bennett,” he hears someone say and he notices for the first time the brown-haired woman standing next to you.

“Nurse,” he greets back with a grin as you close your mouth and look between him and Henriette.

Giulia choses this moment to appear right next to Tom’s shoulder, silently observing your little group with suspicious brows and when you turn your head towards her Tom grins wider.

“That’s my guide. She’s not as bad as you, I’d say. Not that it would be really difficult,” he jokes in the direction of the nurse, unable to hide his happiness while you still look speechless.

The nurse gives him an annoyed scowl before turning towards Giulia who wore the same expression, unamused by Tom’s unconcealed glee.

“So it’s you, the woman that started it all. I’m Henriette, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Giulia,” his companion says back while they shake hands before turning to you, still silent.

You seem to awaken at that moment. “Oh, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you. Thank you for everything you’re doing,” you warmly shake her hand, and there is that flick of your eyes on him that he doesn’t miss. “How come you’re here? It’s a… happy coincidence.”

Tom, grateful that you switched to his language while Giulia winces at that choice, answers. “Just walked, not as fast as you did apparently. Were you really this eager to see me off? Could’ve come with me when I asked you, the journey would’ve been more fun.”

His smile is so bright that you can’t help but smile in turn, and he doesn’t look away from it even when Giulia pulls him away by the arm.

“Tom, I was serious when I said not to talk too loudly,” she whispers harshly as she beckons you and Henriette to follow them aside from the crowd. “We never know who can be listening.”

“She is right,” says Henriette wisely as she comes standing next to her. “I’ve heard there are already spies going around, and on top of that people feel abandoned by the military. Better not to test them.”

Tom groans in frustration and puts his hands back in his pockets, biting his tongue.

“I’m glad you made it,” you smile at him after a beat, and he finds his own again quickly while you stare at each other.

There is this shared happiness in the fact that you found each other again after that heartbreaking goodbye at the hospital, when you both thought you would never cross paths again. But now you’re diving into each other’s soul as if nothing had happened, heart content to gaze upon the other and ascertain that you’re both safe and sound.

His heart feels lighter and he reaches into his pocket to draw out one of the packets you’ve given him in what feels like weeks. “Want one? I’m warning you, they taste like shit.”

You smile before taking one.

The story of how you came to leave Paris is quickly told as well as the tale of your short journey south and when your flasks are filled with water to the brim, you all decide to travel together. Giulia knows where she is going, and it reassures both you and Henriette not to travel on your own any more. The plan is to stick together until you crossed the Demarcation Line and reached the Zone Libre. After that, you'll have to part ways again, and you find yourself less and less eager to arrive at your destination.

You had left Tom with such a heavy heart back in Paris that seeing him appear behind you, so radiant with his blue eyes so bright under the sunlight that you could not believe your luck. Maybe a greater design granted you this extra time with him to make up for your mistakes, the ones you had tried to apologise for in your unsent letters, writing it over and over again before throwing each of them away. Maybe you could use this time to “do things properly”, as he had put it. Yes, you would do that, and parting with him again would be easier.

But as you take to the road again, your mind is suddenly drawn elsewhere when you witness the remnants of the exodus and the consequences of war unfold brutally before your eyes. Bodies of dead horses, swollen by the heat and flies swarming around them sometimes appear upon your path as you walk further south, among other dreadful traces of what happened on these roads. The smell of carcasses you are forced to walk by mixed with the strong scent of fuel from cars you cross paths with repulses you, and you tell yourself that you will get used to it as you keep walking. Once or twice, you’re certain that you can discern improvised graves dug on the side of the road, some objects carefully laid upon the mound of dirt and a cross made of twigs planted above it.

All people killed by the enemy, by exhaustion, or by the war that was said to be over.

But nothing feels like it is, and when you look behind your shoulder to glance at Tom, fleeing the country he came to save, you find him already looking at you, and he gives you a small smile as Giulia walks beside him. You return it softly before looking back ahead of you, watching Henriette at your side lower her gaze when you pass a car with bullet holes in it. Tom will be fine, you tell yourself, and England will too.

An hour passes, and you finally have the chance to slow your pace and level with Tom that gladly lets you walk by his side, Henriette and Giulia busy speaking French ahead.

“So, how does it feel to be a dead man walking?” you ask, glancing at his shoulder where you know his wound is hidden under his shirt.

He smirks. “Surprisingly lively. Got my legs hurting like hell and ain’t no way the dead feel that way. But it’s not that bad, considerin’,” he remarks, lips curving upward and a glint in his eyes. “What about you? Happy to be crossing half the country with a Brit on the run? Not what you had in mind, I reckon.”

“It could be worse,” you shrug, “I could be crossing half the country with a sailor with no ship. A good thing you can swim, though, since there might be no more bridges to cross the river when we get there.”

“Who says I can swim?” he asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow he wants teasing.

You tilt your head to the side in false offence. “You’re lying…”

“Yeah, I am,” he grins wider and you chuckle in turn, a warm feeling in your chest. “Me dad taught Lois and me when we were little. Never got over the fact that she swam faster than I did.”

He smiles at the memory before his gaze turns forward and his eyes become hooded. At that moment, you know his mind had drifted back at home, lost in memories of his family and when you see his smile gradually disappear you feel compelled to say something.

“I’m sure they’re alright,” you begin, making your shoulder brush his arm with a nudge. “You’ll see them soon. You could even be an uncle by now!”

Tom smiles anew, the glint in his eyes returned. “Right, fancy that, me, an uncle. Got to live up to the name now.”

You bite your lip, the picture of Tom holding a small baby in his arms and looking down at its curious little face flashing in your mind. The sight melts your heart, to be able to imagine a future where Tom has the happiness he deserves, away from the fight and among his loved ones.

You realise that you’ll never have time to witness that, that you won’t be there.

You won’t be a part of it.

“Maybe you’ll be able to teach them how to swim when they grow up. You and Douglas.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he kicks a rock away with his foot. “It’ll got Harry and all that posh education maybe. Won’t need me very much.”

“I think the baby will be lucky to have you Tom,” you say, nodding your head firmly, feeling the doubt radiating from him and reaching through your skin. “Anybody would.”

His eyes snap back at you and stay there, and you can feel the burn of it on the side of your face. When you meet them they are soft, unsaid words floating through the silence that settles between you as you stare at each other, the affection tangible and heavy.

The silence is broken by a loud noise, a roar that seems to approach quickly and you raise your eyes at the sky like everybody else around you to search for the source of it. It becomes louder by the second, filling the air and you hear someone yell somewhere ahead before the sound of the engine becomes clear to you.

“Pas des nôtres !” Not ours! Someone shouts again and suddenly people are moving, scattering everywhere they can to find cover, rolling beneath their carts or jumping down the ditches at the side of the road beneath the trees that border it, out of view.

You surge into action, feeling Tom’s hand on your back and Henriette’s pull at your arm before you jump down in a ditch, back pressed against the dirt with the others, eyes directed at the sky in the hope to see the deadly machine that emits that deafening sound. Despite the leaves above you, you feel blinded by the light of the blue sky, the heat of June crushing you and you have no choice but to lower your gaze, blinking as icy panic fills your body, freezing you into place.

When you open your eyes again, it’s Tom they see, crouching next to you instead of lying down, as ready to run, eyes tensed in focus as they rake the sky for something to see. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, his hands tighten into fists, the anguish radiating off his skin as you can see on his face the dreadful memories he is reliving as clearly as words on a page. Memories of chasers coming down on a beach and the sharp pain of his shoulder among the screeching sound of sirens.

You don’t think, you reach for his hand on the grass, resting your palm over his fist and there is that slight flinching of his shoulders before his gaze snaps down where your hands meet. He stares at it, eyes softening before raising his eyes at you, and you smile, like it’s only the two of you in this place, like nothing else exists.

He opens his fingers and lets you take his palm, gently squeezing as you wait for the sound to come over you, passing far too close above and then it’s gone, fading away as quickly as it came.

Nobody moves at first, waiting for the noise to die in the distance and you exhale, watching as people start coming out of their hiding in shock silence.

A thumb caresses the side of your hand and you feel yourself being pulled upward out of the ditch.

A/N:

The ID in order to cross the line (auswei) was established in the course of July 1940. Late June/August, when Tom travels, the Germans were ensuring the correct functioning of the demarcation line, and setting official crossing points. Late June the Germans were still advancing before being called back after the signature of the franco-italian armistice by direct order, and roughly form the demarcation line.

Between the 20th and 26th of June, families are returning home, encouraged by the new government as Tom and Giulia go to the new Free Zone to cross the Spanish border.

The story of the 80 years old woman who got shot is a true one. She died a few hours before the armistice was announced.

Trad: "Terminus, ladies and gentlemen, would you please get off the train, it won't go any further!"

Bold means I could not tag you:

@chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @yentroucnagol @tssf-imagines @omgkatherine01 @nightdiamond8663 @r0segard3n @lauraneedstochill @lauftivy @unleashthelion

Part 6

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x03 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts

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shellshocklove · 10 months

Note

Ooh what about a pre-epilogue blurb where prince!tom takes care of y/n when she’s suffering from her period or sick or smth like that?? Idk I just thought about it and how cute he would be, ik it’s like a common theme for a blurb so like you don’t have to write it if you’re not into it, just a thought 😊

pairing/au: university AU - modern prince!tom holland x female!reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of being sick (obviously lol)

word count: 3.6k

a/n: this blurb is set between chapter three and four! thank you for your request. i hope you like it, and i'm sorry this is so uninspired! i tried my best. i know i said i was open to write pre-epilogue blurbs for this series, but i've decided that this will be the last thing i write for them. the pre-epilogue blurbs need to fit with the rest of the story, and i don't want to mess it up. so i'm leaving it as is!

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Hi, my darling! Can you hear me?” Tom whispered.

His face had immediately lit up when you answered his Facetime call. He was propped up against fluffy pillows, airpods in his ears, face illuminated by the light coming from his phone. A soft but tired smile pulled at his lips.

“I can hear you!” you whispered back with a smile.

It was Christmas Eve – or more accurately Christmas Day – it was well past midnight. You hadn’t seen Tom in person since your party. The autumn semester had ended, and he’d been whisked away to the palace. Royal duties his new top priority, and he was busy. You’d felt your head spin as he’d told you his schedule for the end of December.

But even with his new, extremely busy, schedule, he’d made time for you. He’d texted you every day since you’d seen him last, and you always Facetimed before bed. A new routine for the both of you. And even when his texts were far and few between – he was always excited to talk to you at night.

And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as excited. Ever since you’d travelled back home to your family for the holidays – it was the one thing you looked forward to every day. You loved your family, of course you did, but being back again made you appreciate moving out of your childhood bedroom, a little more. They were starting to drive you crazy. But talking to Tom made you forget all about them. It was the highlight of your day.

“How was your day?” he asked you, moving a little against his pillows, getting comfortable.

It always made you smile when he asked you that. You knew your day, compared to his, had been less than eventful – but still he wanted to know. “Oh,” you sighed, “kinda boring to be honest. I feel like I’m in this trance when I’m here– like I’m not really myself… like I’m trapped by the walls of my childhood bedroom”.

When the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so honest with him.

“I get it,” he said, a sad smile on his lips, “I feel the same way. Like you’re just walking around putting on an act all day– it’s exhausting”.

And suddenly you didn’t regret it anymore. “I’m sorry, Tom” you whispered.

“I’m sorry too, darling” he whispered back, “I’m sorry I’ve been so slow texting you– it’s been…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“It’s okay, Tom– I know you’re busy! How was your day? You’re still at Sandringham House, right?” you asked, sinking a little deeper into your pillows.

“Yeah, we’ll be here until after New Year’s” he said, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, “But it’s just a lot right now– we had that dinner I told you about today– fucking black tie– lots of guests” he sighed, “and earlier today my grandma said I had to be the one to hold the speech before the dinner. And like I wasn’t prepared for that, so then I was scrambling for something to say, and… I just made a fool of myself”.

“Nooo, Tom! I’m sure you didn’t!” you tried to comfort him the way he always comforted you, “I don’t think you’re able to make a fool of yourself– you’re way too charming for that!”.

He hid a shy smile behind a breathy laugh, “Thank you, darling!”.

“I’m only telling you the truth” you told him, making his smile even bigger and more bashful.

“Shut up!”,

“It’s true!”.

He laughed again, looking away from his phone, “You’re making me blush” he mumbled.

“Well, that’s only fair– you make me blush all the time” you told him.

“I do?” his eyes were back on you, quizzical.

“Are you serious right now?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“As a heart attack”,

You chortled, “Who even says that?”.

“Um… I do” he faked offence, making you giggle, which then made him giggle.

“Fuck, I miss you” he confessed after your giggles died down, “I wish you were here– or I was there”.

“Me too…”, you gave him a bittersweet smile, “what would we do, you think, if we were together right now?” you asked him, ready to disappear into a fantasy where you weren’t miles apart.

“What we would do, if I were in your bed right now?” he asked with a mischievous smile pulling at his lips.

“Tom…” you warned with a laugh.

“If I were with you right now, I’d wanna… make out” he said matter-of-factly, “Why? Did you have something else in mind?” he teased.

“What! No!” you lied. Of course you wanted to do a little more than kiss, but you respected Tom when he told you he wanted to take it slow.

“You said that way too quickly” he teased, “I thought you missed me”.

“No! I do! I just–”,

He cut you off, “Relax, darling– I’m pulling your leg”.

With a pout on your lips, you narrowed your eyes at him, “I’m not sure you deserve any kisses right now” you teased.

“Love, don’t pout at me like that,” he whined, “just makes me want to kiss you even more”.

“Nah-ah!” you shook your head, pout still on your lips, “No kisses for you”.

“Are you serious right now?” he asked you, a hint of hurt in his voice.

“As a heart attack” you teased, making him let out a cackle. “The only man I’ll be kissing tonight is Mr. Harry Styles” you tilted your phone, showing him the old One Direction posters over your bed.

“What does he have that I don’t?” he wondered with a sigh, playing along.

You tilted your head to get a good look at your posters. They were old. You had a couple of group photo posters, probably taken in 2011, and then a few solo ones of each member. You’d gotten them from magazines back when you were a tween, and you’d proudly decorated your walls. Now they were just memories, displaying your old self. You’d never bothered to take them down, and after you moved out, your parents never did either. The only poster you’d brought with you was the Sex Pistols poster your dad had gotten you.

“Hm,” you let a finger graze your chin, “A mop of the softest brown curls, eyes you can drown in… and… the cutest bowtie”.

“Don’t I have all those things already?” he pondered.

You looked back at him with a smile.

“I got the curls” he put up a finger, “I will argue I have the eyes–” he put up another finger.

You cut him off, teasingly refuting with a shrug, “No cute bowtie though”.

“Let me send you a picture of my outfit today” he countered. Then the screen got blurry. Not even a second later your phone dinged with a text message from him. You tapped the notification to a picture of him in a simple black smoking with a bowtie. He looked extremely handsome, like criminally handsome.

“So?” you heard him ask, “Do I meet your standards, or not?”.

You took another look at the picture he sent you, before you clicked back to your Facetime call again. Faking a roll of your eyes, you told him, “I guess”.

“You’re looking at Prince Charming, I’d argue” he quipped.

“Ok, Mr. Humble” you chortled, “You’ve got the prince thing right, but the charming… I don’t know” you teased.

“Um excuse me!” he faked offence, “Didn’t you say I was charming earlier?”.

“Ok, you got me there,” you giggled, “you’re my Prince Charming”.

You talked for another hour. Arguably, you talked for too long. Even if it were the holidays, it was way past your bedtimes when you finally hung up. You’d talked more about your day. He’d told you about Sandringham House, how pretty it was, and how he wanted you to come visit sometime so you could see it for yourself. Then he told you about his brothers who he said was driving him nuts. At least that’s what he told you, but you could see in his eyes when he talked about them, that he’d missed them, even if he denied it.

When you finally hung up, you promised to talk tomorrow. The last thing you heard him say was a whisper of “Merry Christmas, darling”.

Tom almost left John behind by the car, that’s how excited he was to see you. It was finally January. Christmas was over. The new year welcomed, and the old one left behind. He can’t remember if he’s ever been this happy for it to be January. January always dragged its feet, the days short but also somehow way too long. Now, he never wanted them to end. Not if he could spend them with you.

The café bell announced his arrival, behind him he could hear the low panting of John catching his breath. Tom didn’t need to search for you, he knew just where you’d sit. At you and Tom’s table in the corner. He couldn’t fight the smile from spilling when he locked eyes with you.

Finally.

With long strides he crossed the café floor. You were still wearing your winter coat, and around your neck you’d wrapped a big wool scarf. But on your lips, a toothy smile matched his own.

“Hi, darling” he greeted you with an arm open, just waiting to pull you in for a hug.

“Hi!” you sniffled, staying seated.

It was like he’d been punched in the gut. He knew he was in public. Being affectionate with anyone, let alone a woman was strictly against everything he’s been taught throughout his life. Someone could snap a photo at the wrong time, and in the next moment there was an outrageous and untrue story plastered across the front pages of Daily Mail and The Sun. But… he always hugged you hello. As chaste and as friendly the hugs could be, he always cherished the opportunity he had to touch you.

You didn’t get up from your seat.

His hand dropped like dead weight. His disappointment a sinking rock in water. Trying to shake it off he moved to sit down on the bench beside you.

“No!” you cried, hands coming up to stop him from sitting down.

He jumped up. Confusion and hurt blending together, while the sorry look you were wearing, stirred the pot.

“I’m sorry…” you started, and Tom felt his heart pick up its pace.

Were you about to break up with him? You weren’t even together, but he’d argue you were definitely dating. Maybe you’d realised after some time apart, that you actually didn’t like him that much, and that you’d only hung out with him because you had to. Now that you weren’t partners for history anymore, you didn’t need to be his friend.

Shit!

Had he come off too strong? Or maybe not strong enough? Tom liked you so much it scared him. But he knew he was complicated. He came with rules, and duty, and secrecy. He couldn’t blame you for not liking what you saw. He knew you didn’t.

“I’m just feeling a little under the weather,” you explained with a sniffle, “Can you sit over there instead? I don’t want you to get sick!”.

A breath escaped him in relief, which then turned into a chuckle. He sat down in the chair opposite you, hands resting on the table, “You know…” he smiled, “I don’t really care if I get sick”.

“But I do” you stressed. He could hear it now – in your voice – scratchy and hoarse. “You get sick because of me– and next thing I know the Royal Police are at my door arresting me for making you sick”.

His grin grew toothy, “No one’s gonna arrest you, darling”. He was about to reach out across the table, take your hand in his, but then he caught himself. He couldn’t do that.

“You sure?” you bit your lip in uncertainty. You leaned in a little closer, a quick glance at John as he stood guard. “Because I’m not so sure”.

Tom thought you were being silly, but he was enamoured by your concern, it made you look extremely cute. “Yes, I’m sure, darling! And if you were to get arrested, I’d tell them off and have them release you– they can’t say no to me” he grinned.

You gave him a meek smile, and his heart squeezed. He held your gaze for a second, and suddenly he felt himself relax. In you Tom had found shelter. A home away from the expectations everyone had about who he was supposed to be. A home away from all the rules. A home away from the pedestal he was constantly put on. You treated him with grace. Slowly, he’d started to understand that what he had with you, was sacred – but he couldn’t tell you that, not yet. He had to be sure first.

With a dry cough into your scarf, the moment was broken. He hated seeing you like this, and he hated that you’d left your house in this condition just to see him.

“Love, I’m taking you home– you should be in bed” he decided, already getting up from his seat. You started to protest, telling him you weren’t that sick, but he didn’t want to hear it.

“John has the car– we’ll drive you home”,

“Tom! I can’t make you do that” you protested again.

“You’re not making me do anything, darling! I’m offering” he held out his hand. Your eyes flicked from his gaze to his hand. You bit your lip again.

He flexed his hand, “Please”.

When Tom had told you he was taking you home, what he’d meant was: he was taking you to his home. When you’d realised you weren’t going back to your flat, you’d sunk a little deeper into the leather seat of the car.

You’d been dying to see Tom, cursing yourself for getting sick. A bug had spread from family member to family member all throughout the holidays. They’d been falling like flies, but you, you’d been unphased. As healthy as a horse. You now regretted how smug you’d been about not getting sick.

Now you felt like shit. You were shivering and sweating simultaneously. Head killing you with a pressing headache. Your scratchy throat hurt, and every time you swallowed it got worse. Waking up this morning, only one nostril was blocked, but now, you’d started having a hard time breathing through your nose. You felt like actual shit.

With an unnecessary arm around your waist, Tom helped you up the stairs to his flat. Finally at the top, he stepped towards the only door on this floor. The lock clicked, and soon he was guiding you inside with a hand at the small of your back.

You’d never seen his flat before.

The hallway opened up to an open planned living room. A big sofa was placed in the middle of the room, facing big floor-to-ceiling windows. All the walls were painted in a harsh white colour, contrasting the black metal frames of the windows overlooking a cloudy, but busy London.

Tom helped you remove your winter coat, hanging it neatly besides his own coat. A shiver travelled through your body. A prickling feeling, gnawing at your bones. You really didn’t feel well.

Leaving Tom behind by the door, you stepped inside the living room. The ceilings were tall and got even taller as you reached the back of his sofa. The ceiling curved over you, held up by strong beams connecting to a landing above your head. That’s when you realised this flat had a second floor.

“Darling?” Tom spoke softly.

You turned around at his voice, noticing him standing by the stairs with his hand reaching out for you. Quietly, you padded your way over to him, intertwining your hand in his.

He guided you up the stairs, down towards the end of a hallway where he opened the door to his room. He helped you sit at the end of his bed before he turned around to fish out some clothes for you from his closet.

“Do you need help changing, or do you want me to turn around?” Tom asked as he put down a pair of dark plaid pyjama pants and a soft looking lilac hoodie on the bed next to you.

“I don’t think I need help, but you don’t have to turn around” you said, already shedding your knitted sweater. Goosebumps prickled your naked skin, sending a feverish ache throughout your body.

“Okay,” he said with a soft smile. “I’ll go make you some tea, ok? Want you to be changed and under the covers when I get back” he winked.

“You barking orders now? Using your prince privilege?” you teased, slipping his hoodie over your head.

He chortled, “Yes, and you can’t disobey me– that’s treason!” he joked.

“Damnit!” you cursed, letting your head fall.

Cupping your cheeks, he tilted your head upwards. He smiled down at you, eyes crinkling with eyelashes kissing in the corners. Shit! He was so handsome. A beat passed before he bent down, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead. Your eyes fell shut at the action.

“You’re hot, love” he said when he pulled away, thumbs haphazardly rubbing your skin.

“Thanks” you whispered, which made him laugh.

“I meant you’re hot, literally,” he placed the back of his hand on your forehead, “you’re burning up”.

“Oh!” you opened your eyes.

He chuckled again before he leaned down to place another kiss to your forehead, “I think you have a fever– maybe we should take your temperature?”.

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” you said with a scrunch of your nose.

His eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”.

“I’m not letting you stick anything up my ass!”.

A deep belly laugh erupted from Tom, “Love,” he tried, “I’ve got one of those fancy ones with the laser you point on your forehead”.

“Oh!” you sniffled.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “now get under the covers!”.

You did as you were told, slipping under his duvet, and waited for him to come back with your tea. When he came back, he was balancing a steaming cup in one hand, and a bowl in the other. You scooted a little closer to the middle of the bed, making room for him to sit at the edge. He placed the cup down on his bedside table before he moved an old glass of water and his phone charger out of the way, and carefully sat down the bowl.

“Ok!” he announced, “Ginger tea for you, my love, with some honey and lemon in it,” he pointed to the cup, “I also put paracetamol in it to help with your fever– my friend Kat taught me that!” he smiled, “And here’s some chicken soup” he picked up the bowl.

You sat up a little against his pillows as he handed you the bowl of soup. “How did you make that so fast? You were gone for like five minutes”.

“I asked John to order you some when we got back here” he smiled.

Your gaze dropped to the steaming soup in your hands. You felt bad. It wasn’t John’s job to drive you home or get you soup – his job was to keep Tom safe.

“Tom…” you sighed, circling the soup with your spoon, “You didn’t need to do all this for me!”.

“I know I don’t need to, darling– I do it because I want to! It’s awful being sick without anyone taking care of you, I don’t want you to be alone” he found your leg under the duvet, thumb rubbing soft circles into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Now eat your soup!” he ordered.

“You and all your orders!” you teased, tasting the soup.

He sat with you as you ate your soup. He did most of the talking, handing you the cup of tea so you could take a sip every once in a while. When you’d finished your soup, he asked you if you wanted more, but you just shook your head. He handed you your tea again before he walked back downstairs with your empty bowl. You’d scooted back down under the covers again when he reappeared in the doorway.

“How are you feeling?” he asked you, sitting back down at the edge of his bed.

“Honestly?” you sighed, “Pretty awful!”.

“Poor baby” he cupped your cheek, thumbing your skin. Then his face lit up, “Turn around” he told you.

With furrowed brows you turned around. Behind you, you felt the bed dip as Tom got under the covers with you. Swinging an arm around your middle, he pulled you towards his chest.

“Tom!” you tried to turn around, “You’ll get sick!”.

He held you in place; his nose brushing against the back of your neck as he got comfortable behind you.

“I really don’t care, my love” he said, placing soft kisses to your neck.

You melted in his hold. Savoured the closeness you’d longed for since your party. You’d missed him. Missed him a lot. You wanted him to hold you. To take care of you. If he didn’t care if he got sick, then you didn’t care either.

You turned your head to look at him. Your prince.

“Okay…” you said softly, “Thank you for taking care of me, Tom!”.

“No need to thank me, my darling!” he said before he leaned forward and brushed his lips over yours.

His kiss was soft and tender and everything you needed.

previous: three | next: four

tags (tagging the i want to forget taglist and a few other people that have shown interest after it was finished): @justapurrcat @lnmp89 @petrspideyparker @hollandweather @userholland @imawhoreforu @onepieceya @sparklingsin @annathesillyfriend @mayal0pez @transparentpsychicempathkid @fic-rewind @spideysmb @the-unknown-fan-girl @mannien @moonlightdotmp3 @padlockedhearts @moniffazictress11 @all4koo @angelayse @svechnibrock @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @xxtomspideyxx @i83andrew @clockblobber @fangirlinggalore @luciwritesstuff @spideysimpossiblegirl @lol-just-kidding002 @allywthsr @captainsbestgal @readheadwriter @parkersdahlia @cosmicryuz @tomxxxhollandxxx @the-not-so-silent-back-up @rebloggingtheficsilove @peterdarlingg @obsessedprincess @alltoowelltom @hey-im-bored504 @storybookholland @sadisticsongbird @mars2cupid @marsbars09 @mixedfandxms

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland blurb #prince!tom holland #royal au #uni au #college au #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction

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lillylvjy · 11 months

Text

So I made a promise.

a/n// hello! So I kinda just grinded this out in two hours because I had a lot of brainrot over this and shit. So this fic is based of Promise by Laufey. Love that women. But it’s kinda shit, so please be nice to me. I haven’t wrote in so long and shit so- here’s this. Enjoy!

Warnings// yelling, overthinking, wil and readers relationship is- rough, big used as a nickname, and if there’s anything else, please tell me!

wc: 1.3k

Not edited.

It’s been 16 days.

Two weeks and two days.

23,040 minutes.

Without him.

And you both thought this was for the better. At least you did. To break up and just leave each other. Wil was never home because he was always picking up gigs and shows to do. Which never made you mad but, you needed your partner at home sometimes too. You needed someone to hold you and tell you you’re ok and that they love you.

You never got that.

And you barely called him unless it was late at night when you came home, exhausted from your shift. And he’d be in America, getting ready for a gig, laughing and joking around with the band as he called you. The video scuffed and audio cutting in and out, but it was good enough. For now.

But every other time you tried to talk to him or ask how he was doing, he’d ignore you. He’d look at the message, and ignore it. And you’d wait all day for a response until it gets to that time to call him and he’d just ignore you then too. Too worried about what Joe was saying or what Mark was doing.

And you were happy he was having fun.

But it felt like you were nothing to him

And that- that’s worse than anything possible to you.

So when he got back to Brighton, made himself at home and pulled you into an hug, you could tell you needed to do it.

“Hey Wil, we need to talk.” You begrudgingly said to the man in front of you. With tired eyes from jet lag and doing so much in the last couple months, he looked at you with a worried expression.

“What’s wrong love.” He placed a hand on your cheek as he leaned down to look at you. When you made eye contact with him, you saw his eyes fill with care and alarm. You frown up at him as you lean into his hand.

“We don’t work Wil. We can never work. You’re going to be traveling the world all the time because of your music and I’m so happy for you. But I’m stuck here. And I need you at times I can’t have you. And it hurts. A-And it feels like we’re slowly slipping apart because of everything and I don’t like the feelings I have right now, so. Wil- we need to break up-“ Wil’s hand slipped from your cheek as his face fell. He walked over to the couch and placed his face in his hands. “Wil it’s nothing you did! We just don’t see each other anymore and it feels like I don’t know you anymore or I’m just like- a being that you only know when you’re home! And I hope that’s not it. And the thoughts I have at night when you don’t answer me make me hate myself for thinking them-“

“So you think I’m cheating? You think I forget about you? You think I don’t know how you feel?! I need that too! I think those thoughts too! I need you! I-“ Wil cuts himself off with a choked sob. Quickly gathering himself, he stands up. “I agree. We need to break up. It’s only for the best.” Wil said in the coldest tone he could possibly muster while wiping his face.

“Wil-“

“No! No it’s fine. We both agree on this yeah? I already a have some clothes packed so I’ll stay with Tom and James for a couple days and then come for the rest of my things. See you soon, bug.” Wilbur whispered the last part as he leant down and kissed your forehead.

Holding back tears, you watched him walk out the house hesitantly, not wanting to leave you like this. Wanting to make up for all he hasn’t done for you. And you vise versa.

Once he closed the door behind him, you went up to it and placed your head on the cold wood, letting out endless amounts of sobs and cries as you slid down the door. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you hid your face in the fabric of your sweatpants, scared that someone could see you and scrutinize you for crying.

But you came to the realization that, this is for the best. It will get better and you’ll learn to live without him. Right?

It’s been 16 days.

And you promised yourself you wouldn’t call him. Wouldn’t seek him out and hold him. Wouldn’t ask Tom how he was doing. Nothing. He’s gone. He doesn’t need you anymore.

He forgot to pick up his clothes. The ones that smell like him still. The ones that you’d always steal and wear around the house. The ones that he’d always tell you not to wear but secretly laid them out in places for you to pick up and wear, loving the way you look in his clothes.

You still wore them. It helped.

And at night it was scary. In your head.

Overthinking everything.

Did he actually cheat and that’s why he was so willing to agree? No. No it’s wil! He wouldn’t do that.

Did he fall out of love? No. No his words were genuine.

Why did he say ‘see you soon’ and not ‘goodbye.’?

Now that was a question you couldn’t answer.

But that’s when you realized. Realized that you’d rather be something with Wil than nothing to him. Even if it hurts you both in the long run.

It’s been 16 days.

16 long days of looking at his contact and not calling him.

16 days where you had so much restraint that it almost hurt you. But each day, that wall slowly crumbled.

You knew you and Wil could never work. It was common knowledge. The constant moving around, longing to be with each other, and slowly killing yourselves with how much thinking you both do about each other. Hurtful or not.

Nothing added up. There was no solution.

So you kept that restraint up as much as you could.

But.

After 16 long days.

You called him. That night. After walking through the town, needing some air and to get something to drink.

You swear you saw him. It had to be him. He was smiling and laughing with a group of people that you’ve never seen before. But as your got your hopes up and walked closer to the group, you realized that wasn’t the man you hoped to see.

You rushed home and sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. Looking down at your phone, you let the barrier break and pressed the call button.

After the first couple rings, you gave up. He wasn’t going to answer. Why did you think he would? He’s probably so much better without you-

“Bug?” You heard a groggy voice ask you over the phone. You’re held your breathe as you heard the name. The name he gave you.

“H-Hi, Wil.” You whispered out as you exhaled the breathe you were holding for too long for your liking.

You heard him let out a shakey breath and some shuffling, most likely blankets. He sniffed before he started speaking again. “H-How are you? What’s up?”

“I- Nothing much.” You said as you played with your hands, hesitating to get your next words out. “Hey, do you maybe, wanna come over?”

“Yes! Uh, yeah. I’d love too.” You could hear the smile start to grow on his face as he talked. A small one started to appear on yours.

“Ok. See you soon?”

“See you soon.”

So, you broke the promise. But whether it hurts you in the end or becomes a beautiful thing. You’ll at least be something to him. And he’ll be something to you.

taglist// @wiipes @frogwithashotgun @mysticalsoot @kit-is-a-weeb @athenaisaflower @gaytoadwithapopsicle @anon-duck @lotusanonymouse @art3m1s-adelia (and if you want to be added, feel free to ask!)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot imagine #wilburfromlvjy #mcyt x reader #x reader

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 2 years

Note

That last ask reminded me; would love to know the 'conversation' of Tom and Aftran meeting each other for real when she first infests him. What a way to find out your brother is the leader of the Andalite Bandits

Aftran slips inside his skull, and — stops. Holds very still there. She can feel his mind around her, braced for impact.

«Hi,» she says. «I’m Aftran.»

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t appear to be aware he’s being addressed at all, or isn’t sure what to make of it if he is.

«It’s Thomas, right?»

A twitch in response, letting her know she’s guessed wrong. The right answer comes to her without her having to look for it: he goes by Tom. Okay, then.

«Tom,» she says, continues to get nothing in response. «Please, I really need you to stand up now. Or else they’re going to think I’m having compatibility issues.»

Did you just ASK me to stand up, he thinks at her. It’s too exhausted, too impatient, to be a real question.

«Yes. Please,» she says. «I’ll explain everything, but first we have to get out of here.»

I don’t know what they told you, he says, but I’m not voluntary. You can shove ‘please’ up your cloaca.

«I don’t know what they told you, but I’m...» Here goes. «Not exactly loyal to the Empire, these days.»

The fuck’s that supposed to mean.

He is a sullen little shit, isn’t he. She likes him already. «Right now? It means you’ve got one last chance to stand your own body up before I do it for you.»

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t stand.

That braced feeling hasn’t faded, has only gotten worse. Oh. He’s expecting her to lose her shit at him for doing exactly what she just asked him to do, because technically that’d count as rebelling. She doesn’t get the sense he has any idea why she’d be playing this game, but that resigned impatience — waiting for the blow just to fall already so he can get it over with — is perfectly clear.

So she straightens up his legs, bracing his right hand against the floor as she goes. He’s way taller than Karen, and she almost sends them both ass-over-teakettle before Aersa 515 grabs his arm to steady her.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, in Tom’s voice.

Derane 731 holds up the tablet. “No adjustment problems? For a second there it looked like...”

She shakes Tom’s head. Dammit, this would be so much easier if she could just explain... “It’s been a little while since I’ve had a host. No problems so far with this one.”

Derane nods. “All right, so you have to get back to the civilian parents for the evening. Got the address?”

Aftran isn’t going to go looking for it; the plan is to ask Tom nicely to walk them both home. “Yes,” she says, still using his voice.

He’s watching her in wary silence. But there’s a cynical triumph to his mood too; he knew that her alleged principles were going to get dropped the instant he inconvenienced her. And now the inevitable other shoe has fallen: her words are coming from his mouth, his hands are on his hips whether he likes it or not.

«Sorry,» she tells him.

He’d snort in contempt, if he could. Would roll his eyes and tell her to shove sorry up with please.

All he does is toss a memory at her. History class, that old truism: that the worst owners of all were the ones who were kind to their slaves. Because those were the owners who thought they were owed something in return.

Okay, then. Aftran will take that under advisement.

“He’s on a pretty tight schedule,” Derane 731 is explaining, half-apologetically. “We wouldn’t have bothered with him at all, if he wasn’t a witness.”

Again, Aftran nods Tom’s head. It’s a pretty common way for them to get involuntary hosts, grabbing the people who’ve seen too much: an uncloaked Bug fighter, even just the Sharing’s tax records. But the witnesses aren’t special-recruited, so it’s not uncommon for them to be saddled with the inconvenience of civilian families.

Aersa 515 makes a shooing motion. “We’ll see you next cycle, and you can tell us how you’re finding him.”

«Last chance to walk us out of here,» Aftran tells Tom.

No response. If they were two humans, he’d be staring at her in incredulous silence right now. Yeah, she really needs to explain all this, sooner rather than later.

She moves his body easily up the stairs — he really is a lot more capable than Karen — and emerges into the high school. There’s no one around, so she takes that chance to sit him in the nearest unoccupied classroom. Then she stops exerting any control over his body, just to show she’s as good as her word.

They fall off the chair.

«Ow,» Aftran comments. She definitely felt where his elbow slammed the ground.

What did you expect would happen? he asks.

«I thought you were going to catch us! I just said, like, eight times, that I want you to be the one to control this body.»

Which of us is the yeerk and which the human, again?

«It’s your body. And that hurt, for the record.»

Tom watches her in judgmental silence. He noticed that it hurt.

«Can you get up?»

No response.

«Okay.» Aftran makes no move to get them up off the floor. Neither does Tom. «Okay, fine. We’ll do this here. My name's Aftran 942. And I'm here with the Yeerk Peace Movement.»

Still no answer.

«Peace Movement.» She can't tell without digging through his brain whether he's heard of them. «We're trying to end the war.»

Another mental eye roll. More incredulous silence.

«I need your help,» she explains, «Because I’m trying to help Jake—»

You don’t want anything to do with Jake, he explodes at her. Jake’s just some stupid kid, he doesn’t even have a driver’s license, he gets bad grades because he slacks off, he’s always in trouble with our mom—

«Tom,» Aftran says.

He got cut from the basketball team. Did you know that? He can’t even make the JV team in eighth grade, he’s a useless athlete, he’d make the worst host body you’ve ever used—

«Tom, I’m not—»

He’s fourteen and nobody listens to him, so he wouldn’t work for infiltration, I already told you he’s not built for combat, and did I mention he can’t drive? You can’t get anywhere around here if you can’t drive, so he’s basically useless.

«You done?» Aftran asks. His chest is already heaving with the force of his near-hysteria.

Temrash 114 tried to get him to join the Sharing, he already tried that, but Jake went to one meeting and then quit, said that he ‘wasn’t a joiner’ or whatever, which is true, it is, and everybody knows it, which means that if he suddenly did join the Sharing then loads of people would be suspicious, it’d be really weird for him, and if my parents don’t start a whole investigation into the Sharing, which I bet they would, then they’ll lock him up in a juvie hall where there’s no kandrona and you’ll die, do you want to DIE, Aftran? Because that’s what’ll happen if you —

«Will you shut up?» she snaps.

He does, of course. She’s resting against his sensory cortex.

«Sorry,» she says, and again gets that silent flash of contempt. «I promise you, I’m not trying to recruit Jake. If anything, he recruited me. Can I show you what I mean?»

Tom doesn’t say anything. Because she told him to shut up. And, sensory cortex. With a single careless poke, she could convince his brain that every bone in his body is breaking at once. Right.

She’s terrible at this. At least Karen was a blank slate, didn’t expect anything of a yeerk.

«Tom. I’ve met Jake. Talked to him. He’s one of the people who helped change my mind about the Empire.»

Still nothing.

«Has that ever even worked before?» Aftran asks instead, because at least when he was sniping at her they were communicating. «Lying to a yeerk that’s currently in your brain. Has that ever worked, ever?»

It’s not lying, he mutters. It’s misdirecting.

Because everything he said about Jake is, technically, true. Sure.

«Misdirecting,» Aftran repeats.

And then, mental voice so small it barely even exists: I had to try.

Because Jake’s the most likely target, she can see from Tom’s memories. Temrash put Jake at high likelihood of going voluntary, if he could be talked into the Sharing, given the lack of other prospects in his life. She knew objectively that it was Empire policy to start by pulling in hosts’ families if possible, but she never really thought about it from the perspective of the hosts in question. Not until now, when she can feel the sick hollow of horror open in Tom’s chest for the hundredth, thousandth, time. He knows Jake’s an easy mark.

Tom knows, too, that the yeerks have decided his dad is harder to grab but might be worth the trouble, given Steve’s occasional shifts at the hospital. Tom’s done the math, and if he can only save one of them he’ll try to protect Jake, because Jake’s so young, so naïve, that Tom is certain he’ll crack under the pressure—

Aftran jerks back, realizing too late what she’s doing. Getting information from a host’s mind is as easy as turning the pages of a book that’s already resting open in your hands. Only it’s not hers to read. Cassie would probably compare this to going through someone’s diary.

You planning on getting up anytime soon? Tom asks. He has to know what she was just doing, but doesn’t comment on it.

«No,» Aftran says. «Are you?»

Silence. He still hasn’t decided if her offers are a trap, a joke, or a sign she’s the kind of teacher who both insists on being called by her first name and throws textbooks at kids’ heads.

«Can I show you something?» Aftran asks.

I don’t know, can you? Because it’s not like he can stop her.

«May I please show you... everything?» See? She can be nice.

Whatever.

So she does show him all. She doesn’t start at the beginning; she starts with the lede. The part where she infested Cassie, and a thousand things they’d spent the last two days shouting at each other suddenly snapped into place. The part where leaving Cassie and going back to Karen felt wrenching, awful, the contrast between a voluntary mind and an involuntary one so great she could never unsee it. The part where first Jake, then Tobias, then the others all chose to trust her against all logic.

From there, she expands outward in both directions. The yeerk pool before Karen, the indoctrination and monotony while waiting for a host. The yeerk pool after Karen, the suffocating frustration of being trapped in a 40-square-foot pond. Karen. Karen’s laughter. Karen’s confusion. Karen’s desperate pleas to go home.

She’s not sure how long they’ve been there, when she’s done. Tom’s arm is pins and needles from where he’s been lying on it, but the light hasn’t changed.

«Any questions?» she asks.

Um. So many.

«Then...»

The first is a mental image, shoved her way: Jake, mid-morph from falcon to human. What, Tom says. What.

«They call themselves Animorphs.»

The andalite bandits?

«Yeah.»

And Jake’s... with them.

«Jake’s leading them.»

Bullshit.

She can tell, almost as soon as he thinks it at her, that he doesn’t really believe that. More misdirection. Tom’s focusing hard on those bad grades, that mumbled confession about the basketball team. Trying to keep her from noticing how much faith he has in Jake’s ability to command, to strategize and persuade.

«I’m on your side here,» Aftran says, exasperated. «On his side, rather. You’re... they made me take a host. Sorry.»

You’re being honest. And he appreciates it more than her trying to pretend that they’re friends.

«Cassie said that andalite, Elfangor, he gave them all the power to morph.»

What a fucking asshole. Total fucking andalite move, putting human kids in the line of fire.

«I guess he had no choice, and said that someone has to protect the Earth.»

He’s lucky he’s already dead. That’s all I’m saying.

«Anyway. However it happened, there’s six of them and now Jake’s in charge.»

I hope it hurt, when he died. It looked like it hurt.

«Tom. Elfangor aside. Can we please, please just get off the floor?»

Oh, and you’re just going to let me do that?

She shows him what she’s planning. To let him do the walking, the talking. To ride along inside his body, not because she thinks it's right but because the alternative risks giving up the Animorphs to Visser Three’s torturers.

I’m not going voluntary, he tells her again.

«I’m not expecting you to.»

Then, what? he demands. You’ll just sit there while I run out into the street and start screaming that there’s an alien in my brain?

«That’s not the worst idea,» she says slowly, «but we might want to check in with Jake first. See if he has any suggestions.»

Because fucking Elfangor put him in charge of the fucking planet. When he was thirteen.

She’s sensing this is going to be A Thing with him. Fine.

I’m getting up now. Just so you know. Back to sullen.

He moves, then. Shifting his knee under him, clumsily bracing his right arm and leg against the floor. He stands.

Aftran watches him.

So that’s how it’s going to be, he says.

«I hope so.»

I still don’t trust you, he informs her. He is, she can tell, weighing the merits of that running-and-screaming plan.

What would Cassie do? Aftran wonders. But she already knows the answer. «You don’t have to trust me yet,» she says. «I’m going to start by trusting you.»

Aww, gee, letting me stand up all on my own. How can I ever repay you.

«Not,» Aftran says, «what I had in mind.»

They’re in a Home Ec classroom. She points his gaze at the wall sink. At the row of mason jars next to the sink. And she lets him know what she’s thinking.

Tom’s head jerks back in surprise, jarring her. You’re nuts.

They met less than an hour ago, and she’d be putting her life in his hands. Literally. Once she’s out of his head, with no other controllers present, it’d be as easy as breathing for him to close his fingers around her and crush her. Easier still for him just not to bother filling the jar, so that she’d suffocate in a matter of minutes. Easy for him to hurt her, to kill her...

Almost as easily as she could hurt him now, could kill him in seconds.

But she doesn’t have a better idea for how to level the playing field.

«Well?» Aftran says, trying to sound braver than she feels. «Aersa said you have to get home. And I assume you have questions for Jake.»

Tom takes a breath. Completely nuts. Utterly, totally, bonkers.

«Takes one to know one,» she says. And then, feeling as if stepping off a cliff over a hundred-foot fall, she starts to detach from his brain.

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #aftran 942 #tom berenson #animorphs au #long post #mind control #implied torture #implied child abuse

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