#extraction fan fic

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found - Chapter 30

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. You do not have to read the original series to understand this fic)

Warnings: slight profanity

It's a lot of dialogue. Sorry :(

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @themaradwrites @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @karimac @ninjasawakenedmystar @thebejeweledwatercat @alisbackalleybbq @asirensrage @residentdormouse @fanficanatic-tw @kmc1989 @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/139296199

My tag list is OPEN. Just let me know if you’d lke to be added :D

****

“I figure in a couple of days we’ll go into town. Get you and Millie all the things you still need.”

His voice is raw and husky; laced with both sleep and contentment as it rumbles deep within his chest. Scarred and misshapen knuckles repeatedly skim the length of her spine; their naked bodies pressed tightly together, caught in a mess of rumpled sheets and tangled limbs. Spent and sated; droplets of perspiration littering their skin and gathering at their temples and the napes of their necks. Their lovemaking had been uncharacteristically slow and tender; a combination of reconnecting and worshipping one another’s bodies and his desire to not cause any more discomfort as she continues her recovery.

“It’s a pretty lengthy list.” Her head rests on his chest; eyes closed as the fingers of one hand lazily trace the tattoo that graces his ribs. “We didn’t exactly come with much. Lots of things were left behind. At Alessio’s.”

“Doesn’t matter how much there is. I don’t care how many lists there are. Whatever you guys need…fuck, whatever you guys WANT…we get. Simple as that.”

“You’re going to create a hell of a predicament for yourself,” she chides and repeatedly brushes the tip of her nose along his collarbone. “People are going to think you hooked up with a gold digger.”

“Yeah, right,” Tyler chuckles, palm briefly lingering at the small of her back, calloused fingertips drifting over the curve of each buttock. “Because there’s just so much gold to dig for.”

“You know what people are like. They talk. It’s what they do.”

“I don’t give a shit. You should know that by now. Besides, you stuck around when I didn’t even have anything to offer you. Just tons of baggage and a shack in the outback. I think it’s safe to say you’re not with me for money.”

“Of course, I’m not with you for money.” She presses a series of kisses along his jaw. “I’m with you for your body.”

“As ancient and crumbling as it is?”

“It’s beautiful.” Lightly scraping the fingernails on one hand down his chest, she speaks between kisses and gentle nibbles on the side of his neck. “So…so…so beautiful.”

“And fat.”

She laughs against his Adam’s apple. “I did not call you fat. I called you thick. And I said it with love and admiration. And insane amounts of animalistic lust.”

His fingertips glide across her shoulders, then down the backs of her arms.“My favourite kind.”

“Mine too.” She rests her head in the nook between neck and shoulder, nose pressed against the long-healed bullet wound in the side of his throat. Her eyes closed as she reaches up to comb a hand through his longer strands of hair; allowing them to slip between her fingers before repeatedly curling and twisting sections around her index and middle fingers.

“Whatever you and Millie need, we’ll get it taken care of. Doesn’t matter how long the list is. Gotta take care of my girls, ya?”

“I like how that sounds. ‘Your girls’. There’s something so sweet about it. So…romantic. In a Tyler sort of way.”

“I can’t believe you’d call me romantic and sweet in the same sentence. What did I ever do to deserve that?”

“Listen, I know you have a reputation to uphold, but you DO have your moments. Where you’re just the softest, loveliest, cutest man on earth. You bring your own brand of romance to the table. And it’s perfect. For me, anyway.”

“Ever thought maybe you’re the one that brings all that out? That I’m not like that with everyone?”

“I already know you’re not. In the same way that I know how lucky I am. I get ALL of you. The REAL you. You’ve never hidden that from me. Not even in Dhaka.”

“I’ve never felt a reason to hide anything. Even back then. Something told me you were good people. That I could trust you. And believe me, I hadn’t felt that way about anyone in a long time. If I ever even did.”

“You trust Nik. And Yaz.”

“That’s different. That’s pretty much all business. Related to the job. I know that they always have my back. That they’ll step up if things go bad.”

“You trust them with me, don’t you? And Millie?”

“Not in the way I trust myself with the two of you.”

“That’s because you know what you’re capable of. You don’t second guess your skills or the things you can do. And you’ve always been protective of me. EXTREMELY protective. OVERLY, at times. Now add Millie to the mix…”

“I know that no one can take care of things the way I can; that the two of you are safest with me. Because I won’t fuck up. I won’t let that happen. Someone even thinks of coming near you and Millie, it’ll be the last thing they do, believe me.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. That everything just stays calm and peaceful. That we can just let Nik and her people handle things in New York while we do our own thing here. I just want to concentrate on us. And Millie. On being a family.”

“We’ll just take it one day at a time. Concentrate on getting past what happened.”

“Do you mean in New York City? Or me taking off and never telling you about Millie?”

“Look at me…” Pushing a hand into her hair, he gently tugs on the dark tresses; encouraging her to lift her head from his chest. “...I forgive you. I know you’re having a hard time accepting that, but I do. Yeah, sometimes I’m still pissed and sometimes it hurts like hell. But I DO forgive you.”

“Just like that? Just so easily?”

“I love you. I never STOPPED loving you. And you had your reasons; for making the decisions that you did. I don’t pretend to completely understand them. Not right now, anyway. But one day I will, I’m sure.”

“I really did do it to protect you. I didn’t want anything happening to you., Tyler. And I never would have forgiven myself; if I permanently lost you because of a mistake I made. It just sucks that in the end, all I did was hurt you.”

“That’s not entirely true though, is it? I mean, I AM alive. Nothing happened to me. And things would have gone really bad if the High Table had shown up while I was there. So you DID do the right thing. If you hadn’t left, we wouldn’t be here right now. And Millie wouldn’t even exist. They wouldn’t have cared. If you were pregnant. It wouldn’t have stopped them from killing you.”

“I don’t even like thinking about that. Her NOT being here. She’s everything I ever wanted. And everything I don’t deserve.”

“There you go selling yourself short again. You deserve so much, Esme. You’re not the monster you think you are. Far from it.”

“Boy, deja vu. I seem to remember saying those EXACT same words. More than once.”

“And I learned, didn’t I? It finally got through to me.”

“You’re a lot better, that’s for sure. You’re not filled with as much self-hatred as you used to be. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You really can teach an old dog new tricks.”

Tyler smirks. “You are such a bitch.”

Esme laughs when he aggressively slaps and pinches her ass, then gives a content sigh when he kisses her; long and languid and deep, naked limbs sliding along one another and against the cool, wrinkled sheets. Her breath soft against his skin when she once more rests her head on the centre of his chest; her fingers drawing continuous circles around his navel while his repeatedly comb through her hair.

*****

He finds himself teetering on the edge of sleep when he feels her move against him; placing a forearm across his torso, her chin resting upon it as she peers up at him.

Pressing a kiss to her nose, his hand slides to the nape of her neck. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How have things been? With you?”

“You mean in general, or…?”

“In the last two, three years. That’s when you started scaling back on things, right? Trying your hand at a more normal life.”

“Nothing’s been normal about my life. Not for a long time. And especially not since you left.”

“I mean stuff like firefighting. And starting your business. How HAVE things been?”

“Guess I overestimated your spying abilities,” he teases and skims his knuckles across her cheek. “I thought you knew everything there was to know.”

“My spying stopped at your personal life. I knew the basics; the firefighting and how you started your own business. To be honest, I think I was scared to venture past those things.”

Cradling her cheek in his palm, he brushes the pad of his thumb over her lips. “Scared? Of what?”

“Finding out you were with someone. I know that sounds pretty stupid, considering I’m the one who fucked everything up. You had every right to go on with your life; to meet someone and fall in love and everything else that comes after that.”

“I was already in love. With YOU. And that wasn’t going to change.”

“Were you with other people? Other than Delaney.”

“Maybe in the biblical sense.”

“THAT I expected. For you to go back to sowing your wild oats all over the place.”

“Wasn’t all over the place. Just the vast majority of the northern territory. Well, the western part of it, anyway.”

“Oh, lovely. Does this mean I’m going to go to the grocery store and meet up with all kinds of women you’ve bumped uglies with?”

“I never pissed in my own front yard. It would have been too fucking awkward; running into a bunch of one-night stands.”

“I am marrying a whore,” she laughs, and presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. Briefly capturing his bottom lip between teeth when she pulls away.

“I promise you won’t run into any of my conquests while picking Millie up at school or grabbing something at Maccas.”

“Good. Because the last thing I want is to be sharing stories about your dick and its abilities while I’m in line at the store, waiting to buy shit tickets. “

He arches a quizzical brow. “Shit tickets?”

“Toilet paper.”

“And you say us Aussies have weird slang.”

“You know how long it took me to get used to the words you’d use in conversation? Or even your accent for that matter? It wasn’t that easy; trying to decipher exactly WHAT you were saying half the time. I remember how strong it got; when we were living in The Kimberley. I guess it was from being home so much.”

“Think it was easy getting used to you? You’ve got a pretty wicked accent yourself.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“You do.”

“I’m from Colorado. People from Colorado do NOT have accents.”

Raising his head from his pillow, he presses a kiss to her brow. “Trust me, babe. You do.”

“So other than Delaney…” A fingertip drifts over the scar that runs over the bridge of his nose. “...it was just one-night stands? No relationships?”

“No relationships.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to be in one.”

“Didn’t want to be in one or couldn’t find anyone worthy enough to be in one with?”

“A mix of both, maybe. I didn’t want anyone else, Esme. Not in that way. A serious way. I wanted YOU. And if it meant I waited forever or you never found your back…”

“You would have found someone eventually. Someone that you’d fall madly in love with. Marry, have a family…”

“No. I wouldn’t have. Because that is everything I wanted with YOU. Not anyone else.”

“You don’t think you could have learned to love her? Delaney? That you could have moved on and…”

“How could I move on when I was still in love with you? When I always would be in love with you. And why are we even having this conversation? This is supposed to be the start. Of everything. Of US. And talking about this…”

“I’m just curious. Trying to fill in the gaps, I guess. Because I love you and I want to know what I missed. Even if it makes me uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t miss much, believe me.”

“Do you like it? Firefighting?”

“It’s a job. The pay’s decent. Got a little bit of edge. Keeps me busy, at least.”

“You’ve never been one to sit still for very long. Not that surprising you’d thrive at something that keeps you on your toes all the time.”

“I don’t know how much it keeps me on my toes. Not the busiest area. We don’t get a lot of action. I do get a lot of cats out of trees, though.” He gives a playful wink. “And ladies love a guy in uniform, so…”

“I’ve yet to see you in uniform, but I bet you’re hot as fuck. Especially in your turn-out gear.”

“I didn’t think you’d be into that kind of thing. Seeing as your brother is a firefighter.”

“Believe me, Tae. Nothing about you could ever remind me of my brother.”

His eyes close as her fingertips explore the scar on the left side of his forehead and the second one lower on his cheekbone. It’s a form of intimacy as its purest and most innocent of roots; the soft and tender touch of a lover who adores and worships you. Who knows every inch of your body; every blemish, every imperfection. And it’s a closeness…a level of trust and vulnerability…that he’s never experienced with anyone but her.

“What about the business? I assume that’s doing pretty good.”

“Better than I ever thought it would. Got a lot of regular clients, and more and more are coming aboard all the time.”

“Do you have people that work for you?”

“I have a few full-time guys. That deal with the heavy-duty stuff; concentrate on the real manual labour. And a handful of students who help out on weekends and during school breaks. They do small repairs, landscaping stuff, things like that.”

“Who’s in charge while you’re on your little sabbatical?”

“Koen’s my right-hand man. The guy that I trust with everything. Things are being taken care of. I’m not worried about it.”

“I knew you’d find something you’d be amazing at. You always liked working with your hands; doing your own repairs on your truck, putting up the walls and installing the new windows in that little shack of yours.”

“Of OURS.”

“Millie’s really going to get on you, you know. About that treehouse. And she’s definitely going to want to be your little helper. She loves to create. Build things. She’s got a real talent for things like that.”

“I’ll have to get her own stuff. Some tools and a toolbelt, little hardhat, some steel-toed boots.”

“She’ll love that. And probably drive us completely nuts trying to fix everything around here.”

“I’ll start her out slow. Small projects. Birdhouses, flower boxes, some planters for the garden. I promise I’ll keep her away from the power tools.”

“You’re going to have to really watch out for her. Because that child? YOUR child? Isn’t just headstrong, she is completely fearless. I wonder where she gets THAT from?”

“Her mother.”

“Hardly.”

“Well, it’s not from me, that’s for sure. ‘Cause there’s plenty of things I’m afraid of. And they all seem to involve you.”

Sighing, she presses a series of soft kisses along the scar that mars his left shoulder. “I know it did a real number on you. The accident. Seeing me like that. It’s definitely bothering you way more than you’re letting on.”

“I’m not shy. I admit it fucked me right up. All the things I’ve been through? All the people I’ve gone up against? I’ve never…EVER…been that scared. Seeing you like that? Not knowing if you were alive or dead? And if you were alive, was someone going to show up to finish things off? That was…rough.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. For how you handled things. Not just with getting me out of there and making sure I survived, but everything AFTER that. How you just took control. Stepped up. You were banged up and exhausted and hurting and you did what you wanted to do. For Millie. Just focused on her. Took care of her.”

“Why wouldn’t I have done all that? She’s my baby, too. My little girl.”

“It was all still so fresh. So new. You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath. Coming face to face with me, finding out you were a dad again. You had your entire world turned upside down. You…”

“No. I didn’t. I got my entire world BACK.”

His honesty is raw. Real. Powerful. Succeeding in both taking her breath away and bringing tears to her eyes.

*****

“So is this where I get to ask questions now?” His fingers move in slow, methodical circles on the small of her back. “When it comes to what you’ve been doing the last five years?”

“What more is there to know? Didn’t we cover all the bases?”

“Not quite.”

“There’s not much more to tell. Not anything of interest, anyway.”

“You didn’t work or anything? What did you do with your spare time?”

“I picked up jobs here and there. For Nik. Things I could just do from home. Background checks, basic research and tracking people down. Nothing that would draw a lot of attention. So I could stay under the radar. Or try to, at least.”

“Well, you did a pretty good job hiding from me, that’s for sure.”

“We’ve talked about this. I wasn’t hiding from you. Not intentionally, anyway. It was all so complicated. I had to protect Millie. Both of her parents were still in the life. In some way. And we’d both burned a lot of bridges and made a lot of enemies. I couldn’t take the chance that someone would come after her. I just couldn’t.”

“There were other reasons, too. You know there were.”

“Selfish ones. Staying away had nothing to do with you and EVERYTHING to do with me. You know that. We’ve been through it how many times now? It was never about you, Tyler. Not in the way you think it was. At first, it was about protecting you. Then Millie. And finally, it became about myself. Because…to make a long story short… I was a stupid, insecure little girl.”

“You’re not any of those things. It was just a messy situation. All around.” Tangling his fingers in her hair, he pulls her towards him, lips meeting the bridge of her nose. “What else did you do? Other than helping out Nik?”

“Just took care of Millie, mostly. Devoted myself to being a mom. I joined a couple of those mom and baby groups; just to get out of the house and socialize and try and make friends. When she was a few months old, I even signed us up for yoga classes and water aerobics. Millie always loved the water. She was always so comfortable in it. Confident, even.”

“She’s gonna love it here, then. Trips to the beach, being able to swim in the ocean.”

“Except for the fact the thought of an encounter with a shark will be exciting to her. She’ll probably pray for it to happen. I am telling you, that girl is fearless. She’s so much like you, Tyler. More than just the physical. There’s so much of you in her. And it was kinda bittersweet, you know? Seeing you every time I looked at her but knowing I couldn’t actually be with you.”

“I mean, you could have been. But…”

“But I was a stupid little bitch. Like I said. That’s something that will eat at me for the rest of my life, believe me.”

“I don’t want it to. And I’m sorry I bring it up so much. Make you talk about it. Explain yourself. That’s not fair.”

“If anyone has the right to bring it up, it’s you.”

“I don’t want to be that kind of person. I want to be better than that. For you. And Millie.”

“I remember the first time you told me that. How I made you want to be a better man.”

“It’s true. You do.”

“I never considered you a bad man in the first place. A good man who made bad decisions, yes. But bad to your very core? Not even close.”

“You always have been full of shit,” He teases, and curls an arm around her neck, drawing her into a long, deep kiss. His lips against her temple when she settles her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed as his fingertips repeatedly graze up and down her bicep. “Tell me about the guy.”

Her hand slips lazily across his collarbone, down his chest, briefly settling on his stomach before travelling back up again. Finally coming to rest on the side of his neck, nails lightly and repeatedly scratching against the skin. “What guy?”

“The one you dated. In New York. The cop. Or detective. Or whatever the hell he was.”

Esme raises her head from his shoulder, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “How did you know about him?”

“A little birdie told me.”

“A little birdie, huh? What did you bribe her with? Two scoops of mint chocolate chip instead of one? Unlimited Bluey viewing on your cell phone?”

“I promised her a Porsche when she turned sixteen.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past you. You’re going to spoil her rotten.”

“I didn’t have to promise her anything. She just offered the information.”

“Out of nowhere? She just suddenly started talking about my personal life?”

“I MAY have asked her about it.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Okay, so I did. I DID ask her. If you’d ever had a boyfriend. I was curious. I wanted to know.”

“Curious, huh?”

“And a bit jealous.”

“Just a bit?”

“A lot.”

“Why are you like this? When it comes to me and other men?”

“Like what? What am I like?”

“Self-conscious. You’ve always been. Even at the very beginning of things. And believe me…” Slipping out of bed, she stretches languorously before padding towards the dresser; a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and tank top folded neatly on top. “...you do not come across as someone who would be self-conscious.”

“Did I say you could get out of bed? That you could put clothes on? There’s a strict ‘no clothes allowed’ rule in this room. Once that door closes…”

“I know what Millie’s like; if she wakes up in the middle of the night. She’ll come looking for me. And the last thing we need is her seeing both of us in all our naked glory.” Climbing into her pyjamas, she tosses his discarded sweats in his direction. “And don’t do that. Deflect. Answer my question.”

“I’m old.” He grimaces as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, moving slowly as he puts one leg into the pants, followed by the other. Knees cracking when he stands to pull them up. “ My brain is mush. I already forgot what the question was.”

“I asked why you are the way you are. When it comes to me and other men. Why do you always get so bent out of shape about it?”

“I don’t get bent out of shape.”

“You do.” Removing her hair out of the back of her tank top, she moves back to bed; fluffing and moulding her pillows and arranging them to her specification. “And I don’t get it. There’s nothing for you to get prickly about.”

“Like you don’t get prickly about my ex-wife. Or Delaney.”

“Being curious is not the same as being prickly. What is your hang-up? When it comes to me and other people?” She gives a content sigh when she slips back into bed, settling her head on a pillow before rolling onto her side to face him. “It’s not like any of them are still in the picture. And even if they were, they still wouldn’t be a threat to you.”

“I don’t see them as a threat. I know what I bring to the table. It’s not about feeling threatened.”

“What’s it about then?”

“I just don’t like it. You being with other guys.”

“I mean, I was married, remember? I’ve had boyfriends. And girlfriends, for that matter.”

“Since you left?”

“I’m talking about throughout my entire life. And did you honestly think I wouldn’t date? Or at least try to? That I would have just spent the last five years completely alone?”

“You know how you said you were okay with me going on with my life? Meeting someone else? Falling in love, getting married, all that shit?”

Esme nods.

“I’m not that gracious. Not by a long shot. I didn’t want you with anyone else.”

“For the rest of my life?”

“Well...yeah.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” She reaches for him. “Come to bed.”

“So was this guy the real deal? Someone you could have moved on with? Gotten your ‘always and forever, happily ever after’ with? Totally forget about me and…”

“Tyler, I was never going to forget about you. I carried your child inside of me. Gave birth to her. She looks just like you. Kinda hard to forget you when I’m looking at your clone every damn day. Add the fact that I was still in love with you and always would be into the mix…”

“Would you have moved on with him? Gotten married, had more kids? All of that?”

“All of that was what I wanted with you. ONLY you. So no, none of that would have ever happened. I didn’t want that life with anyone else. Just you. And if that meant I never got any of that, oh well. Now…” She pats the empty spot beside her. “...come to bed. Please? I’ll answer whatever questions you have., but just come to bed. Because you standing there like that? It’s making me incredibly anxious.”

He relents. Laying on his side with her back pressed against his front and forearm draped across her collarbone. And he presses a kiss to the back of her head before resting his cheek against hers. “What was his name?”

“Don. His name was Don. And he was a detective. Homicide.”

“How the hell did you ever meet him?”

“I worked a small job for Nik. Nothing serious. I had to find my way into the main evidence locker at One Police Plaza and steal some papers related to an old case.”

“What the fuck….?”

“Someone hired Nik because an old money laundering and embezzlement case they were involved in was going to be reopened. And if that happened, it was going to cause a big old shitstorm; he had some big-name contacts and clients of his own that would be exposed. Some really well-known people, too. Politicians, lawyers, judges. And if all that got out…”

“Heads would roll. Most likely literally.”

“Exactly. So Nik and Yaz created an entire persona for me. I had the credentials; photo identification, passport, fake driver’s licence.”

“Who were you supposed to be?”

“An agent with Homeland Security.”

“Jesus Christ. And you don’t consider THAT serious?”

“You know, for such a huge police department with apparently the best security in the country, they were sure easy to fool. It was like taking candy from a baby. I was in and out of there in ten minutes. Not even.”

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed off. That you even put yourself in a situation like that. Especially with Millie in the picture. If you’d gotten caught…”

“But I didn’t. Well, not until about six months later. But that comes further in the story.”

“So the cop…”

“We met in the elevator. I was running to catch it and he held the door open for me.”

Tyler scoffs. “What a gentleman.”

She scowls over her shoulder. “I thought you promised you wouldn’t get prickly.”

“I’m not getting prickly. I just…”

“YOU asked,” she reminds him. “You wanted to know these things, right? You have questions. I’m just answering them. Do you REALLY want to hear this stuff? Or do you just want to be angry about something?”

“I’m not prickly. Or angry. I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Of anyone that even looks at you the wrong way.”

“Oh for God’s sake…”

“I was never like this before. I never used to give a shit about this kind of thing. I didn’t care how many people my ex dated or fucked before me. Because I was always so far up my own ass that I knew I was better than anyone that came before me. Sometimes I miss that guy.”

“The guy you were before me.”

“I was a drunk and a drug addict before you. So, no.”

“You weren’t ALWAYS that way. You didn’t always have those issues.”

“But I was a prick in other ways.”

“I liked the guy you were when we met. Yeah, you were messy and you had your issues, but so did I. I wasn’t a picnic, either. We were both fucked up. But it didn’t stop me from falling in love with you. And staying that way.”

“And now?”

“Now I like you even more. I’m glad you’re not totally up your own ass, as you put it. I like that you’re not afraid to talk about the hard things. That you’re able to admit you’re self-conscious or…”

“I never admitted to that.”

“Or you’re feeling spiteful or hateful or jealous. I mean, as weird as it sounds, everyone should want their man to be that way. Just completely honest. Because it doesn’t do anyone a lick of good if they keep that all bottled up.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s okay to be a prickly asshole.”

“Don’t push your luck, Tyler.”

Grinning, he =presses a kiss to her temple. “So, this guy…”

“What more is there to know? You asked how I met him. I told you. What more do you need?”

“You just chatted in an elevator and hooked up with him, or…?”

“He asked me out for an Irish coffee. I said yes. It was as simple as that.”

“Irish coffee, huh? So that’s what the kids are calling it these days.”

“We went out. One date turned into two, two turned into three. Three turned into a relationship.”

“A serious one, or…”

“I mean, we were exclusive. We didn’t date other people. We just…I don’t know…we just did our thing.”

“Did you do HIM?”

“Tyler…”

“I want to know, okay? I NEED to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I do.”

Sighing, she presses a kiss to his forearm, then rolls over to face him. “That’s not an acceptable answer for anyone over seven.”

“Did you? I mean, I think I already know the answer, but…”

“I didn’t sleep with him. And believe me, it wasn’t for lack of opportunity. I won’t lie to you; we did other things and I enjoyed them. I enjoyed them a lot, actually. It was nice; to feel beautiful and wanted and to have someone completely and utterly devoted to you.”

“I would have given you all that. I DID give you all that.”

“And I WANTED it to be you. More than I ever wanted anything in my entire life. But it wasn’t a good time. To just show up on your doorstep. It was all so complicated. Confusing. And I needed to protect Millie. We’ve both burned a lot of bridges, Tyler. Crossed a lot of really bad people. I couldn’t put her at risk. I just couldn’t.”

“But you can now?”

“So much has changed. We’re both walking away. From this life. And I know all of this probably doesn’t make much sense to you. But it makes sense to me.”

“And you couldn’t seal the deal with this guy because…”

“Because it wasn’t fair. To him. To let things get THAT serious. He was a good man and he was great to me and Millie. But I couldn’t give him THAT. That part of me. I just couldn’t. And he didn’t realize it and I never told him about you, but It was always a competition. Between you and him. Everything he did, everything he said. All I would think about is how YOU would handle things. The things YOU would say. And I tried; I really did. But he deserved better than that; a woman who thought of someone else every time he touched or kissed her. That wasn’t fair to him. He wasn’t a bad person. Far from it.”

“I kind of feel bad now. For handling the five years like I did. Me and my wandering dick.”

“Why would you feel bad? Those were my issues. Not yours. You had every right to go on; to deal with things however way you wanted to. You were the one that got hurt.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you hurt yourself more than you hurt me.”

“It wasn’t easy. I didn’t want to leave. And I didn’t want all that time to go by; flying under the radar and keeping Millie a secret. But it was so complicated. The lives we were both living. It was never to punish you or hurt you. It was to protect you. And her.”

He nods slowly, considering her words. “So is that why things went bad? Between you and the cop? ‘Cause you wouldn’t pull the trigger?”

“He was very understanding. Very patient. He just assumed I’d come out of a bad situation and I just wasn’t ready for that kind of thing. And I didn’t bother telling him any differently.”

“So what happened? What made him walk?”

“You mean there’s something the little birdie DIDN’T tell you?”

“She did. But I’d rather hear it from you. How’d he find out? About who you REALLY were?”

“I told him.”

“That was risky.”

“Once I realized he was getting more serious and deeper into things than I expected him to, I just couldn’t do it anymore. I’d spent six months with him; half a year pretending to be someone I wasn’t.”

“Were you getting more serious about things? About HIM?”

“I mean, I liked him. I was attracted to him. And he was very good to me and Millie. He spoiled the hell out of her and she liked having him around; he took her to baseball and hockey games, they went to the zoo and the movies, he braved the Macy’s toy department more than once.”

“And I want to be happy about all that, but…”

“You weren’t there, Tyler. Through no fault of your own. Millie needed someone. A father figure. She wanted someone like that in her life.”

“She had someone like that. She had a DAD. That would have been there had he known she even existed.”

“And THIS is why I didn’t want to talk about this stuff. No matter what I say or do, it’s only going to upset you. You say you want to know everything, but deep down…”

“I have a right to know all of this stuff. I haven’t hid anything from you. About what I was up to in the last five years. I was totally honest about Delaney. It should go both ways, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want to fight. I get it; you’re hurt and you’re angry and you need to take it out on someone. I get it, Tyler. And I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. You have every right to be pissed. But do you REALLY want to keep doing this? Bringing it up over and over again? Finding fault in everything I say? You tell me you want to hear these things and then…”

“I’m not trying to fight.” He uses his fingertips to clear hair away from the side of her face and loop it behind her ears, then presses a soft, reassuring kiss to her lips. “And I’m sorry. For acting like a prick sometimes.”

“I never said THAT.”

“Not in so many words.”

“I’m not trying to take away how you feel. You have every right to be pissed off. And hurt. You even have the right to take it out on me. But…”

“I don’t have that right. At all. And I don’t mean to do it. I know it hurts you. And you’re the last person I ever want to hurt, believe me.”

“We need help, Tyler. PROFESSIONAL help. Or we’re GOING to need it. To get past all of this. To deal with how we’re both feeling. You and your anger and your hurt and me and my regret and my guilt. I don’t think we can do it alone. Or that it’s healthy for either of us to even try.”

“You want me to see a shrink.”

“Not a shrink. A counsellor. And not just you. US. Someone who can sit with us and help us unpack all of this and work through it. I think deep down, you realize we need it. That kind of help.”

“If you think that’s the way to go…”

“I think it’s something we need to at least try. And then just go from there.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Including THAT.”

“Now that’s true love,” she teases, and presses a chaste to the corner of his mouth. “And I think it might do Millie some good, too. To talk to someone. She’s been through a lot; seen and heard things no kid should ever have to. I know she’s a tough little thing, but I also know she’s a lot like you; when it comes to shoving things down and pretending they don’t exist. I don’t want her growing up like that. And I know you don’t either.”

“I don’t. I don’t want that at all. Whatever she needs…whatever WE need…we’ll make it happen.”

Smiling, she kisses him; long and soft and sweet. And when she pulls away, his palm still cradles the side of her face; thumb repeatedly brushing against her cheek. “I didn’t love him.”

“I never…”

“You were going to ask. I knew it was coming.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“I was attracted to him. I cared for him. Deeply. But I didn’t love him. And I don’t think I ever would have.”

“He must have loved you. He just let you walk. After he found out the truth.”

“Maybe? I don’t know. He never said he did. Sometimes I felt, you know? And I wasn’t ready for that. I probably never would have been. None of it was fair to him; lying about who I was, allowing him to get so close, letting him think that maybe there was some kind of future…a happy ever after…in the cards. He deserved a lot better than that. A lot better than ME.”

“You’re not a horrible person, Esme. You’re…”

“I hurt people. Even the ones I love the most. It’s who I am. It’s what I do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You didn’t do things because you wanted to. You did them because you HAD to. It was just part of the job. If you didn’t lie about who you were, the ending would have been a lot worse than fucking up some guy’s ego.”

“I should have never gotten involved with him. I should have done everything possible to just keep my distance. But I was lonely. I wanted someone in my life. Maybe not to have a serious thing with; I didn’t want to live with someone or get married or grow old and gray with them. He made me feel beautiful. He made me feel wanted. I hadn’t felt that in so long. And if I couldn’t get it from the person I wanted it from, I had to settle. SETTLE. How horrible does that make me sound? Talking about another human being like that?”

“It doesn’t sound horrible. It sounds…”

“Needy? Desperate?”

“No. It just sounds…sad.”

“Sad as in pathetic or…?”

“YOU sound sad. When you talk about it. And you must have been sad when it was happening.”

“I missed you. Every second of every day. And it got worse when Millie came along. I had wanted to be a mom for so long. And I finally had this beautiful little girl. Everything I ever longed for. But I couldn’t share her with you. And that wasn’t fair. To either of us. Or you.”

“See? You did hurt yourself more than you hurt me.”

“You have no idea what I went through. I just tried to shut myself off. I was in love with someone I couldn’t be with. Through no fault of his. He’d done nothing wrong. So I told myself I’d never let that happen again. Get close to someone. That it was better if I just concentrated on being a mom. And that’s what I tried to do. I DID. But…”

“Then you met this guy…”

“All of a sudden, I wasn’t as lonely anymore. There was this man that wanted me. And no, it wasn’t nearly to the depths you did. But it was…something. And I desperately needed it. More than I wanted to admit. All I wanted was to feel something…anything…again. But the more I felt for him, the more I missed you. And that’s when the competition began. He was never going to be YOU. Not even close. No matter how good of a person he was.”

“Did he just walk away or…?”

“He was hurt. Rightfully so. It’s kind of a kick in the nuts when you hear something like that; that the person you’ve spent six months with was nothing but a fake. And he felt stupid; that he didn’t sense that there was something wrong or that there was something I was hiding from him. I told him not to take it personally. It wasn’t any fault or weakness on his part. I was just that good at my job.”

“You must have horseshoes up your ass. ‘Cause for him to just walk away instead of not locking you up…”

“Maybe he felt bad for Millie. Putting me away meant she’d have no one. And I don’t think he’s the type to do that to a little kid.”

“You know what I think? I think he was in love with you. That’s why he was so forgiving.”

“And I think you’re reading too much into things.”

“I can’t say I blame him, though. I know from personal experience how easy it is. And how fast it can happen.”

“Now I think you’re overestimating my appeal.”

“Not in the fucking slightest.”

A smile curves her lips, and she reaches up to sweep hair off his forehead. A hand on his cheek as she leans in to kiss him.

“Thank you.” The fingertips of both hands slide across her shoulders and down either side of her spine, gently squeezing her ass when his lips meet her brow. For telling me. About him.”

“Thank you for not totally losing your shit. I was worried there for a minute.”

“Oh believe me, inside I was throwing tables and punching holes in walls.”

“Because that’s healthy,” she chides, cradling his face in her palms as she presses a kiss to each corner of his mouth, his cheek, chin, and finally his lips. And when she pulls away, she finds herself rendered breathless by the way he regards her; the pure adoration and devotion that softens his face and sparkles in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming at times. To be worshipped and loved in such a manner. Realizing that you’ve become such an enormous and integral part of someone’s existence. Yet it’s a love that many fear will never find them; so beautiful and all-consuming and life-altering.

Running the pad of her thumb over his lips, she sweeps her knuckles along his jaw and then wraps both arms around him. Her body pressed tightly against his as she tucks her face into that favourite spot of hers; that secure, safe place between neck and shoulder.

“It’s always been you, Tyler.” Her breath is warm and sweet against his skin. “It will always be you.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fan fic #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake #Chris Hemsworth #Chris Hemsworth Extraction

[ladycatashtrophe]

In case anybody was wondering how tumblr is doing right now...

I've just had to explicitly tell this hellsite not to share my content with AI companies.

This is the same hellsite that primarily profits from unique skill and talent, usually manifested in fanart, fanfic, fandom inspired original creations, and whack job nuttery like the vanilla extract cake or Bendy Dick Cumber Bitch.

Only Real Human People make things like that. Or at least make them halfway decently, anyway. A lot of those Human People are queer, disabled, POC, or otherwise disadvantaged in some way.

So, go to your account settings, select "visibility", and make sure the prevent third-party sharing toggle is ON. It should be blue and/or to the right, depending on your system/app appearance settings.

Godspeed o7

#what the actual FRICK #down with ai #i hate ai #all my homies hate ai #hellsite #fanart #fan art #fanfic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fan fic #original creation #oc #original character #original writing #fandom #fandom inspired #vanilla extract #anti ai #benedict cumberbatch #bendy dick cumber bitch #disabled #queer #pjo fandom

[the-blaze-empress]

like genuinely this issue has been bugging me for YEARS i like my major character temporary death okay

pls rb for increased sample size!!

#fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #ao3 #original thoughts in their natural habitat #vanilla extract

[lovely-keii]

being their sibling

characters: tsukishima kei, oikawa tooru, suna rintarou

a/n: i write a fic every time i rewatch hq LOL sorry ik i said im abandoning this blog buuuut…happy bday to this blog!! (repost from 1/5 because tags broke :(( )

part 1

TSUKISHIMA KEI

looks out for you, but he can’t help that hes so emotionally constipated :’( he tries to give you advice because he genuinely is concerned for you but just is unable to word anything properly. see: “you need to stop talking to that person, you’re being a pushover,” but he just wants you to realize you’re letting people walk all over you.

god forbid he has to comfort you because hes the wrong brother for that - you’re definitely in better hands with akiteru. he might walk in on you crying and contemplate if he’ll even say anything or just ignore it flat out, or he’ll say something like “don’t cry, you look stupid.” if you cry more, he’ll end up swallowing his pride and sitting next to you. he’ll groan and reluctantly, “fine, spill it.”

other than that, he’s going to be a sneaky little prick. definitely the type to take revenge on you if you annoy him. you eat the last piece of chocolate he was saving and suddenly you find your charger hidden deep under your bed. also loves to take things without your permission. “why? i’m just using it, it’s not like you need it now.”

if someone picks a fight with you, he’ll be quick to extract you from the situation before saying something ruder and harsher than usual to the person. and if you tell him you like someone from his team, he’s going to look at you like you’re crazy. “are you insane?!” he’s honestly more bewildered than upset. doesn’t let you anywhere near the gym. he can make an exception for yamaguchi though. “at least it’s not hinata…or worse, kageyama.”

OIKAWA TOORU

your life is never boring with this guy as your brother. you’re literally being dragged everywhere, practices, shopping, team events… you’re like “i’m not even part of the team.” he goes “we can fix that!” and the next day you find out that you’re the manager for the boys’ volleyball team. huh, wonder how that happened.

oh my god, he MILKS you being his manager. “hold my drink, my fans are calling.” “y/n get my towel please.” you’re absolutely seething at the power trip that this guy is on. eventually, you start doing all that for his other team members and not for him, and he gets so whiney. “y/n you’ll get big ugly iwaizumi a towel but not your own sweet brother?!” that earns him a spike to the head from iwaizumi.

he tells you all the gossip about the school, because believe me, he knows A LOT of things. he’ll do his skin care while he forces you to listen to his gossip, cue him getting mad if you try to leave. everyone realizes why you two are siblings when you two walk down the halls and pull the exact same faces at the people he’s told you about in his gossip.

he makes you his little scapegoat for his fangirls. “oh, you want my number? you’ll have to ask y/n for that, they keep my phone with them during practice!” (you dont) “now, why don’t you girls hand all these gifts to my lovely sibling for me?” (you almost immediately chuck them at his face when you see him) but you know the best way to get back at him? when he sees you even slightly conversing with ushijima or kageyama, all hell breaks loose.

SUNA RINTAROU

the devil if the devil was your brother. he takes the ugliest pictures of you, when you’re asleep, when you’re yelling, when you’re crying over a movie. he also loves to send you pictures of animals and send a “look at you in this picture, so cute”. he also takes your things without asking and never returns it, you’ll just find it in his bag one day.

he also is one to order you around, and it drives you mad. “pass me the remote, y/n.” “but it’s nearer to you.” “i’ll tell mom that you-” // “y/n get me a drink from the vending machine.” “why would i do that” “remember when you snuck out and i-” // “get my bag too when you get yours.” “no.” “what i post that one picture of you when you’re about to sneeze-”

but he’s always looking out for you. when creeps try to approach you, he’s quick to react by shooting them a nasty glare. he’s a silent kind of care. standing behind you on elevators, walking on the outer side of the sidewalk, staying up late til you come home and just telling you he just couldnt sleep. little do you know, it’s something he’s always done even as a kid. putting more food on your lunch box, holding the corner of tables when you pick something up so you don’t hit your head, returning your things that are sprawled around the house to your room so you don’t lose them.

and if he ever finds you crying over some guy, he sighs and sits down next to you. “why’re you crying over an idiot?” he then makes snappy insults at the expense of the guy, making you laugh. “see? you look better like that. now stop crying and let me get some sleep.” he closes the light and shuts the door on his way out.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #oikawa x reader #tsukishima x reader #oikawa tooru #tsukishima kei #oikawa tooru x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader

[iridescentprose]

Try again - Luca x reader insert [The Bear]

summary; in which you catch the chef smiling at you.

author's note; short but sweet fic about Luca. Just fluff. Please enjoy!

"Worse. Try again."

"Yes, chef."

It was 5:36am.

The numbers of the digital clock above you weren't moving any faster. You had been here for less than an hour and already you were being critiqued on how to properly layer strawberries on top of a crème brûlée custard.

Whatever plans you had of pleasing the chef next to you were slowly diminishing. Your hands shook with self doubt as you pricked at the red fruit, angling it so the mandala spirals could continue. You stepped back, overall pleased with what you had done.

"Better."

It was all you were going to get for now, you knew. But you took his response with pride. After all, you had made significant progress in the past week. Your shoulders relaxed, though your victory was short-lived.

"But."

You lifted a brow. "But?"

He shifted closer to you, his tattooed arm brushing up against yours, making butterflies flutter in your stomach. Your eyes remained downward, concentrated on the different doodles that littered his skin. You wondered what each stroke of ink meant and if they were drawn with intent or if they happened to be the result of a reckless decision.

Or decisions.

"You lack confidence," he said. Even though his eyes were focused on the custard, you could tell he was doing this on purpose—teasing you. The furrowed brow, the slightly scrunched up nose, and the craned neck. What gave away his concentrated act was the corner of his lips, tugged in a meaningful, if not, arrogant fashion.

Despite the heat spreading across your cheeks, you didn't take his criticism to heart. It was true. After all, Carmy set this all up for a reason. You needed the extra practice to hone in on your skill before the upcoming opening. But opening day was weeks away and you already felt too far behind to make a good impression.

"I'm exhausted," You said without thinking. It wasn't the best excuse for your lack of confidence or skill, but it was all you could muster in response. You dropped the miniature metal tongs and braced your hands on the edge of the silver cooking island.

You could hear him chuckle but you didn't bother lifting your gaze to defend yourself. A week of private training wasn't enough to increase your knowledge as quickly as you had hoped. You wanted to be good—better than good. You wanted to be the best version of yourself and you wanted others to experience that through your desserts.

"Good," he said, as you kept your gaze downwards, fixed on his shoes that were inching closer to yours. "For a second I was worried you weren't." He smirked. "Here, try again."

You lifted your head and straightened your posture as he reached across the table for the metal tongs. He handed them to you and you took them into your hand automatically, prying a strawberry that happened to be cut in half, from a small bowl.

Slowly you guided it towards the custard, though it didn't make it's final destination without a little help. In a ghostly fashion, Luca's hand loomed over yours. His rough palm settled over your knuckles — which happened to be stained with flour and vanilla extract.

He did most of the heavy lifting, using a method of confident concentration that you had been trying to master all week. Your hand shook as the strawberry reached its destination, overlaying the endless spiral masterfully.

"Slow and steady wins the race," he mumbled, his breath fanning your cheek. He gently squeezed your fingers prompting the metal tongs let go of the red fruit. "Consistency is key."

The pads of his fingertips brushed over your knuckles as he let go of your shaking hand. Smudges of strawberry paste lingered on your skin as he pulled away.

"Understand?"

You lifted your head, your eyes meeting his. He looked relaxed, if not intrigued by your bravery. A glimmer of a smile came to his lips, though it vanished before you could capture it in your mind. You shook your head free from whatever trance you were under.

"Yes, chef."

With a nod, he swiftly reached for the towel that hung off his shoulder and tossed it to you. You took it, swiping the remnants of sweet ingredients he left on your fingers from his demonstration.

You turned to look over your shoulder, finding him leaning against the metal cabinent, arms crossed and muscles tight.

He met your gaze quickly, almost as if he had been caught watching you. His slight smile diminished, and you couldn't help but shake your head in amusement.

"Again, chef?" You asked.

Testing his reflexes, you tossed the towel and he flinched, but caught it with ease as it hit his chest. A shade of red - the same pigment that stained the towel you had used to wipe your hands - was visible in his cheeks. His lips flickered upwards as he fought the playful smirk flirting with his mouth.

"Yes, chef," he mumbled, tossing the towel over his shoulder and taking his spot next to you. Naturally, his arm brushed up against yours again as he began cutting up more strawberries. "Again."

#luca x reader #luca x you #luca the bear #luca the bear x you #the bear x reader insert #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx #will poulter #will poulter luca #luca x y/n #luca reader insert

[darlingdarkly]

Fates Worse Than Death

A Deimos x f!reader Series

Chapter 1

Word count: 5k

Part: 2

OG A/N: Hey, hi! So, tomorrow is my birthday. And for my birthday I decided to write a hugely self indulgent smutty fic for myself and instead of writing one for cod like I’ve been doing and contributing to an already super saturated fandom I have decided to write it for my r6s fandom, which admittedly keeps looking deader and deader, but I know that if I’m scouring the tags for fics then maybe someone else is too and so I’m gonna share my gift to myself in hopes that someone else who’s desperate for content will find it and be glad it’s there.

Second A/N: Hey! So I decided to make this a series actually. This will stand as chapter 1 💕

Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Listen to me 👁️👁️ I need you to heed the tags. I am going to tag the hell out of this thing and if you don’t read the tags then you’re throwing yourself into a mixed bag of whatever the hell and that’s on you. The tags are there for your benefit. Not mine. You have been warned.

CW: non con elements, dub con elements, interrogation, belt spanking, bondage, unprotected climactic p in v intercourse, oral (f!receiving), abduction, hair pulling, fingering, death, blood, mild game spoilers 🤷‍♀️

This is the point of no return, you click this button and you consent to the content on the other side.

This takes place after Deimos has killed Harry but before Rainbow has captured him, if you give a shit about canon events and timeline. Enjoy 💕

The chilly night wind whipped through the leaves, rattling them noisily and aiding in concealing your stealthy movements. You and three other operatives cut through the wooded terrain like silent wraiths as you sought out the hidden compound due north, said to be home to his lair. The mission was simple, get in, extract Deimos and exfil.

You moved quickly and quietly bringing up the rear of the squad. Rifle locked and loaded, the muzzle pointed out ahead of you, strafing for contact. You heard your squad leader over the comms, gruff and clear as he spoke to your contact back on base.

“Rainbow, this is O1, we are two clicks due south of the compound. ETA 15 for contact, are we a go?”

After a moment of measured silence he got a response. “Rainbow to O1, you’re green lit. Standby for evac.”

O1 came back moments later. “Copy that. Over.” There was an audible cut through the radio before O1 addressed your squad. “Alright, squad. You heard the man. On your toes.” Each of you responded in turn. “O2 copy.” A pause. “O3 copy.” You depressed the button on your headset and responded. “O4 copy.”

Soon after, the four of you crested a hill and fanned out over the top of it, laying eyes upon the brilliant glow cutting through the velvet of night like a knife. O1 came through your ear piece and gave curt instruction. “O2, follow me to the east. O3 and O4 you take west. Stick close to the perimeter, plant the charge and fall back. We detonate on my count and breach simultaneously. Do you understand?”

The three of you responded in unison. “Sir, yes sir.” You saw him motion forward and your group began to move, splitting into your assigned pairs and descending upon the compound. You lost sight of your squad mates in the thick of the trees but kept close to O3 as you neared the far west walls of the hidden base. Just as you made the bottom of the hill there was a panicked cry over the comms from O2. “What the fuck is that? O1 we have a disturbance.” There’s a break in his speech, a long drawn out eerie quiet that unnerves you.

“Sir, we’re not alone! I repeat, not alone.” There was a faint scuffle in the distance and a single gunshot before O1 came over the comms, frantic. “O1 to Rainbow, we’re made! Requesting evac. It’s him.”

You and O3 stopped and turned towards the commotion, unsure of how to proceed. There was a heart stopping, pained scream in the distance and you heard Rainbow call to the pair of you over the comms. “O3, O4, this is Rainbow. Get out of there, you’re compromised. Get to evac. I repeat, Get to evac!”

The pair of you took off in the woods, abandoning mission and headed west towards the evac point. You could feel your heartbeat in your chest and had to focus to calm your breathing. At this point it was about survival as you followed close behind O3 and cut through the woodlands for the helo just eight clicks west.

There’s a flutter in the air, a woosh of displaced air as something whizzes by and you hear O3 ahead of you begin to panic. “Christ it’s him! Run for it, now!” O3 bolts forward and you’re sprinting to catch up but soon he’s lost in the copse of pines and all you have left of him is his panicked yells and heavy breathing over the radio. “O3, where are you? O3!?!” You hear the deafening discharge of a heavy caliber ring out in the still night and it’s too close for comfort.

You veer away from it and towards the evac. Splitting off on your own as the blood of your last remaining squad member drains from the brand new vent hole in his head and begins to quickly cool in the night air. You can hardly hear yourself crash through the woods, boots scaling over rocks and fallen logs as your breath quickens and terror begins to set in.

You miss the whirring of the foreign object the second time around but there’s no mistaking the calm, collected voice in your ear as he hacks through your comms and makes himself known. “There you are. There’s no hiding. Not for you. Not for me.”

Rainbow comes in low and static-y though the comms and you struggle to make him out clearly. “O4 do you… in O4… Get out! I rep-… Deimos is tra-…. On your posit-….” And then everything cuts. Your comms go dark and you’re officially alone, the last of a nearly dead and shattered squad in the dead of night in the thick of the sticks.

Determined not to die in the midst of these pines you beeline for the green blip on your gps. If you could just make it to the helo you’d survive but as you took a final glance at your position a second blip pinged. A dark red skull just twenty meters back. His deathMARK. You felt a lump in your throat as you realized you’d been made and triple timed it, arms pumping at your sides as you tore through the woods in fear. Pure terror coursed through your veins and nipped at your heels, promising death if caught. There was no capture, Deimos wasn’t known for taking prisoners.

You mounted a hill and pushed out between two huge oaks as you practically slid down the other side. You made huge strides, legs driving you towards salvation as you pushed them to the limit in hopes of escape. You were only four clicks out when you tripped, stumbling over something hard and unseen as you crashed ungracefully to the ground and tumbled in the leaf litter. You scrambled to regain your footing, clawing at the earth and struggling to your feet.

You had just made it up when he hit you like a freight train, violently tackling you and knocking you on your back. The pair of you rolled in the foliage, tumbling over one another in the night and sprawling apart as you came to a jolting stop.

This was it, it was fight or die so you grabbed for the push daggers secured to the straps of your tac vest and faced your adversary. He came up ready to fight, charging forward and lunging for you. You drove forward with a fist, spearheaded leathily by the edge of the knife and swung out to bite at his throat. He pulled back and you sliced through air instead, he followed through with an arm on your elbow and brought your arm down over one thick thigh, breaking your hold and successfully disarming you.

With one knife left you pushed back at his chest and swung forward to attack, hoping to aggressively close the distance and quickly end him but he grabbed your arm with his strong gloved hands and twisted it around until your back was socketed into his chest. He pulled on your limb and brought it down hard over his knee, breaking your hold for a second time and disarming you completely.

You struggled out of his grip and tried to make a break for it, a last ditch effort to stay alive and bolt but he caught a grip on your ankle and you once more went sprawling to the ground, ass over teapot. When you turned around to face death you caught sight of his ballistic mask towering over you, he held the magnum in a tight grip in his right hand and you knew it was over. At least you’d die with your squad, knowing you’d done your best and been outplayed.

But instead of staring down the unblinking black eye that was the bore of his barrel you felt the butt of the .44 Vendetta crash down on your temple before the night stole over you and blocked out all thought.

It wasn’t til much later that you awoke, sluggish, confused and in tremendous pain. The room was bright but cold and when you tried to alleviate the pain in your head by bringing your hand up to soothe it you realized you were bound and secured to some kind of padded platform. Your arms were stretched out and down in front of you, bound together by something strong and without give. Your legs were similarly bound but tucked up beneath you on the padded bench. It was then you realized you were also naked from the waist down. Your chest was covered but had been stripped of your tac gear and uniform and replaced with a stark white tee, your bra was also missing.

You weren’t blindfolded or gagged but when you tried to whip your head around you found it hard to maneuver, only about five degrees of field of view to see on either side and all you could see of that was dingy white tile from floor to ceiling. You struggled in your bonds but stopped as you heard the slow, methodical blows of his boots on the concrete steadily drawing nearer. You stiffened and tried not to think about the view he no doubt was privy to from this angle. He broke the silence first.

“Well she’s finally awake. Don’t struggle, the knots won’t give, I tied them myself.” He sounds smug and confident as he strides up behind you, voice low and clear, not quite deep but thoroughly resolute, the draw of a southern twang peeking out subtly but sophisticated. The venom in you begins to well up in your throat, your teeth grit and body tensing as your anger builds and your hate gestates.

You let loose on him, anger burning a hole in your chest as you feel robbed of your rightful death, you shouldn’t be here still breathing, you should be dead in the woods with your squad, not tied up and captured like some kind of prized war spoil. “Fuck you! Kill me, you bastard!” He let himself come into view, circling around you with his arms clasped behind his back. He was still fully clad in his black tac gear and ballistic helmet, the dark, obsidian lenses of his eyes gleamed deviously in the fluorescent light.

“Can’t get information out of you if you’re dead, now can we?” You ground your teeth in your skull, body trembling in half fear, half seething rage. “You won’t get a damn word out of me, motherfucker! You’ll have to kill me, I won’t talk!”

His head tilted slightly as he tisked, chiding you calmly. “Such a nasty mouth.” He disappeared from view, the dark drape of his cape flowing out behind him, returning to his position behind you as you heard a rustle and the soft tink of metal on metal as he lifted something off of a table. “My godfather was a stern but loving man. He taught me at an early age about duty and responsibility. About discipline and respect. I loved and respected him dearly but as all boys are, I had a tendency to be rowdy and disrespectful at times. He taught me these values with a firm and unyielding hand. Something I think you could use a good helping of.”

You heard the crack of the belt as he brought the two looped ends taut in his hands and immediately stiffened, the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up. “You’re going to tell me everything I want to know, including the details of your mission, the intel you received and who you received it from along with the coordinates of the Rainbow base.” He stopped and waited for your response, you sat still and silent, mentally preparing yourself for the coming onslaught.

“Nothing to share?” You shifted in place but spat out at him, tongue in cheek. “Fuck you.” Shortly after you felt the first lick of the belt as it cut through the air and cracked across your bare ass, making you jump and yelp. It may have been a far cry from conventional interrogation methods but it was still painful and humiliating. You heard the leather slide in his fist before you felt the second blow, just parallel to the first, aimed and executed with precision to land just beside it on the same cheek. “Fuck!”

He hummed contently. “Tell me what your mission objective was.” He languidly paced behind you as he waited for your answer, when none came he brought the belt down on the other cheek twice in rapid succession, giving you no time to recover. You tried shifting away from the blows but had about a half an inch of clearance for wiggle room, there was no evading it.

He kept it up, pausing and then attacking ruthlessly, periodically stopping before doling it out again, fat, opaque lines began to criss cross on the smooth surface, marking his progress. He questioned you again and you held silent, preferring to suffer through the consequences rather than give in and endanger an entire base of your colleagues for the quicker respite of death. He’d kill you in time either way, it was better to hold out and die honorably than relent for a swifter end.

“You’re resilient, tough little spit fire, I’ll give you that. But you should know your silence has consequences.”

You sneered at him where he couldn’t see. “I don’t give a fuck about me. Beat me, torture me, cut my toes off one by one, I don’t care. You’ll kill me when you figure out I’ve got nothing to say to you and I will die honorably.”

He laughs and it makes a sliver of uncertainty worm through you. “I’m not going to kill you, sweetheart.” The pet name makes you queasy but his response only confuses you. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When our little talk ends, the door closes. If you don’t tell me what I wanna know by the time we’re through here your life as you know it ceases to exist.”

“I already told you to just go ahead and kill me. I’ll die before I tell you anything that would put Rainbow at risk.” Instead of punching you in the ribs or breaking a finger he just leaned in til you could feel the warmth of his chest settle over the top of your bare ass and it felt much more sinister than any strike or blow.

“Oh sweetheart, there are fates much worse than death.” You still don’t quite understand and he senses you struggling to grasp the full scope of the threat so he takes a break from the spanking and explains it to you in full detail.

You hear him set the belt down on something before you feel his gloved hands caressing your ass, running the covered fingertips over his handiwork and down the swell of your cheeks before dipping lower and skimming the slit of your sex. His fingers come away slick and he smirks behind the mask where you can’t see.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to hear then I’m going to take these-“ You hear a jingle from behind you and know they’re your dog tags, probably scalped from your neck as he undressed you no doubt. “-and I’m going to throw them out in the woods with your dead squad mates. They’ll think one of two things. Either you died out there like a good soldier and some animal, pack of coyotes perhaps, carted your body away or, I finally caught up with you, gave you an ultimatum, and you sold them out from under the rug. Either way they’ll come to the conclusion that you’re beyond saving and they’ll bury you in an empty casket and move on.”

You felt it all coming to a head and the audacity of it came to be too much. “You’re wrong! They’ll never stop looking for me! You think they’ll give up so easily! They won’t stop until they find me! Ohhhh and they will find me! You are so fucked! You are sooo-“

The crack of the belt against your ass cut off your angry rant, the words dying in a pained yelp as he brought the leather down on your ass in an angry torrent. SMACK. SMACK. SMACKSMACKSMACK.

You clenched against the pain, trying to curl up on yourself but of course it was no use, you could only sit and take it. When the onslaught ended he continued.

“You didn’t let me finish. Either way… no one is going to come looking for you. And I think I’m starting to like you so instead of killing you, like you’re dying to have me do-“ You feel the return of his fingers, the cool leather of his glove soothing against the heated stinging welts already swelling on your cheeks. Then they glided down and you felt his fingers spread your lips and when he spoke this time he sounded different somehow, louder and clearer.

“-I’m going to keep you all to myself. I’ll house you, clean you, feed you. During the day I’ll keep you tied up in here, my own sweet little stress relief, make the walls of this room echo with screams of a different caliber for a change.”

It wasn’t until you felt the flat of his tongue glide up the length of your sex that you realized why he sounded so much clearer, he’d taken his mask off and now he was casually eating your pussy, tongue dipping in between his fingers spreading you apart so gently, a stark contrast from the harsh belt treatment he’d been afflicting upon you moments before.

He hummed into your pussy and you squirmed against the heat of him, simultaneously freaking out yet undeniably turned on as his tongue probed you and his hands caressed the cheeks of your ass. He pulled away and you weren’t sure if it was a sigh of relief or a whine of protest that built a home in your throat, kept at bay only by the last mustering of your will.

“So sweet. When I was a boy growing up in Birmingham, I used to play in the sugar cane fields for hours. Me and my friends would cut away stalks from the edges of the field for a taste. You taste just like that, fresh cut sugar cane.” You shuddered in his hold and told yourself it was all psychological warfare, it changed nothing. When he had the information he seeked he would cut you down just like he did all the rest.

You felt him step away from behind you and come up to your side, his hands trailing like fire along the length of your body as he did so. He reached under the platform you were tied to and suddenly your arms pulled forward in front of you, forcing your chest to pull forward and press against the bench. Your ass raised up high and unshielded as you felt the collective wetness of his saliva and your slick coating your lips, chilly exposed like this, but it doesn’t take long before he’s resumed the position and you feel his hot breath fanning against it, rewarming his meal.

“We’re gonna have a lot fun, sugar cane.”

“So.” Lick. “Much.” Lick. “Fun.” Lick.

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped, at this new angle he had access to the fulty of you and his tongue dipped down and swiped at your clit on the last lick making you momentarily lose yourself in the white hot pleasure of it. “Fuck!”

“I intend to.” You don’t grasp until much later the meaning of that, lost to the way he eats you so slow and sensual. He chuckles behind you and you know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he intends to keep true to his word because he’s stopped questioning you, stopped beating you, just content to sample his new toy. Your life is over, because you won’t give up Rainbow and you won’t tell him a goddamn thing and your stubborn honor has damned you in a way that was worse than death and now you’ll spend the rest of your days keeping his cock warm until you’ve gone insane from it.

Taking his time and savoring the taste of you on his tongue, you feel the first press of his padded fingers prodding your entrance. Gently pushing forward til he was in just up to the first knuckle, sawing them in and out slowly and twisting them in your heat as his tongue stayed latched to your clit, suckling it.

“Deimos!” He rewarded you with an open mouthed kiss to your clit as he pushed his gloved fingers further into your depths, exploring them as your back arched nice and pretty for him as far as your binds would allow.

He pulled his tongue away to your dismay but kept his fingers buried in you, stilling their movement but curling them inside you to press teasingly against your sweet spot. “Got some new insights for me, sugar cane?”

Your lips were sealed shut as far as that was concerned but your resolve was waning, you recognized the point of no return you were quickly approaching and despite the horrible implications of your future, there were just too many good men and women with their lives on the line for you to justify the alternative.

So you shifted shamelessly to push back on his fingers, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to focus on the pleasure and not the humiliating position you were quickly failing to resist against. He recognized the move as you made it and gave you what was to be his last warning.

“Let me put it in no uncertain terms for you. When I come right in here-“ He flexed his fingers inside you to demonstrate his point, eliciting a high whine from you. “-your time is up. You can sing all you want but past that point you’re no longer your own woman. You’re mine, do you understand?”

You didn’t even consider your freedom for the briefest of seconds, just nodded solemnly as you accepted his terms, though little they mattered. Although he’d seen your nod it mustn’t have been good enough as you felt the all too familiar crack of the leather, jolting you from your thoughts and bringing you back to the present. You clenched down on his fingers, eyes rolling in their sockets at the euphoric sensation.

“I need a verbal answer.” Your grit your teeth for not the first and certainly not the last time dealing with him. “Screw you!”

He laughed, it was easy and carefree. “All in good time, sweetheart. I’m gonna enjoy my meal first.” With that he seemed to be done speaking, leaving you to stew over a decision you’d already made and ruminate in the consequences of it. He dove eagerly back into the heat of your sex, plunging his fingers enthusiastically in and out of your pussy while his tongue lapped at the juices that seeped out around them.

He watched as your toes curled in on themselves, mouth dropping open where he couldn’t see and expelling breath in a silent moan. He proved to be skillful in a manner of ways and this seemed to be no exception to the rule, making light work of bringing your pleasure to a head and threatening to throw you over the edge quicker than you’d like to admit.

You fought for control of your body but it was a battle you were unavoidably losing as he pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his tongue, pushing it deep into you and occupying his hands by rubbing circles over your clit with his thumb. It was a devastating sensation that pulled your muscles taut, your head raised up off the padding and tipped back as far as your restraints would allow as you suddenly came violently.

He spurred it on, lapping at your sopping wet slit and never ceasing the movements of his thumb, making you shake and really test the strength of your ties. He drove you through your orgasm, not even slowing as you began to plead with him to stop, it was too much. When you thought you’d tumble head first into a second one he finally relented, leaving you gasping and panting as you vaguely heard him shucking his pants behind you.

You felt something hard and blunt at your entrance as he slid his cock up to you and rifled it up and down your slit, wetting the tip and enjoying the light springy jump that coursed through you every time his head hit your clit.

“Last chance, sweetheart. As much as I’d hate to lose your company, you’re running out of chances to secure your freedom.” You could hardly focus on his words, still caught between struggling to catch up from your first mind blowing orgasm and steeling yourself against the promise of a second one if the way your pussy was trying and failing to catch his tip and suck it in was any indicator.

He lined himself up and pushed forward, causing you both to moan out together as he stretched you open on his girth. “Fuck me, you are sweet.” He slid home, hips pushing flush with yours as you adjusted to the way he seemed to fill you out perfectly. Your head dipped as he began a steady, unrushed rhythm, slapping his hips to yours every time he drove it home.

You had stopped breathing since he’d entered you and suddenly took one huge sucking breath in, filling your lungs just to immediately expel it as a broken but pleasured moan. He growled behind you and you could feel it vibrate through you in a whole new sensation, overloading your senses, coursing white and blinding in its intensity.

“Please!” You had no idea what you were begging for but it just felt so right, losing your sense of self, reduced to nothing more than nerve endings. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling back and taking out the slack as your back arched to accommodate his hold.

“Oh god!” You could hardly imagine how you must look, head cocked back and slack-jawed as he split you open from behind. Each thrust was precise and calculated, wringing you for every last drop of pleasure until your mind went blank and your whole being submitted to the fucking.

He leaned forward, breath hot and heavy right behind your ear as he spoke and he must’ve known you were a goner because instead of trying to extract information he just spoke of the future. All the ways he’d bend you to his will, how he’d break you and build you back better in his image.

“It’s truly a shame we met under these circumstances. Under a different light I’d have enjoyed training you, honing your skills instead of wasting all this potential such as it is. Under me you’d have made an unstoppable operator. Now you’ll never see combat again.”

For some reason this truth had only now dawned on you, some deep part of your brain had held out hope of escape or retaliation or vengeance but cock drunk beneath him you knew it was hopeless, he was absolutely right and you were ultimately fucked.

As if he’d been holding back he renewed his vigor and began to pound into you from behind with abandon. Your mouth was dry and your knees were screeching at you from below, despite the padding, but all you could focus on was the pool of pleasure building heavy in your gut. There was no turning back from this, your mind screamed for you to do something but any other thoughts were beyond you and so you expelled them with the rest and took your fate as it sealed, securing a chokehold around your throat and brought you to heel.

You came around his cock, the second world shattering orgasm of the evening and much more all encompassing in its magnitude. You were certain you felt your heart stop, lungs burning for air as you clenched down around him. Seconds later he followed, coming with a half moan, half growl as you squeezed him for all he was worth. White hot spend filled you from the inside out and it was as blissful as it was damning.

The game was up, you were his. You stayed like that, riding the bliss and eyeing up the defeat that swelled up to take its place as it faded. He pulled out of you slowly and you felt his seed drip from you, slide down your thighs and puddle on the bench below you. You hardly heard him as he cleaned himself up and redressed. There was a click as the door to the room opened for the first time you were aware to hear it and two men stepped into the room.

There was a moment of nothing before you felt two firm hands wrap themselves around your arms and loosen your binds. They held you up til the tips of your feet hardly grazed the cool concrete floor and stationed on either side of you, held you up for inspection. You lifted your head to see him standing before you, dog tags dangling from one fist and the belt folded over on itself held tight in the other.

“I can’t say I’m disappointed in you, soldier. You stood your ground and that commands immense bravery. But you knew the rules and now you’ll reap what you’ve sown. You mustered up enough strength to gather saliva in between your lips and spit at his face. It didn’t quite make it and landed at his feet but you could hear a smile in his voice as he commanded the men at your side to carry you up to his quarters. He’d be seeing you again very soon.

#dead dove do not eat #tw noncon #tw dubcon #dark fic #tw dark content #tw dark themes #r6s #r6s deimos #r6s Deimos smut #r6s Deimos x you #not cod

[kpopnstarwars]

i fear i may kind of be cooking with this warriors san smut fic so uh here's a lil snippet for the kpop fans who managed to cling on through the drought and the bald freak boom (apologies to the feyd fans but hey this could tickle your interest too)

Night is falling, the sun casting long shadows down the road. You always find the darkness comforting - it feels as if San is near. Today he is; you raise your fist and knock thrice on the solid wood of the gates, lifting your hand in recognition of the guards who peek over the turrets. Slowly, they ease open the doors, and you stride into the courtyard, your boots clicking against the roughly hewn pavings. A squadron of your soldiers are sparring, but they halt their training when you enter, snapping to attention as you stop at the centre of the space, the dying rays of the sun streaming down the steps towards you, the air still as you wait. San appears, his gilded silhouette glorious at the top of the stairs. His shadow guards spill down the steps towards you as he descends; their bodies contort and bend, the swirling mass of them parting around you, liquid night, jaws snapping, circling you until you’re surrounded. A smirk pulls at your lips, and you throw the bag at his feet. You do not bow low, simply dipping your chin as he extracts the head from the sack, inspecting it and nodding before returning it to its roughly woven grave and handing it to one of his shadows to take away. Meeting your eyes, his own filled with amusement, the hint of a smile flashes over his face. ‘Welcome home, my love.’

EDIT: IT'S HERE

i did sm worldbuilding for this it's actually insane

#choi san #san #ateez #san smut #san fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #san x y/n #san x reader #san x you #ateez x you #warriors san #san warriors #ateez x y/n #ateez x reader #atz #choi san x reader #imagine dragons #choi san x you #choi san x y/n #warriors

[sleepisoverrated]

My headcanons about Dick Grayson

Dick is touched starved.

Think about it he grew up in a circus, that he considered family, when he was little he always got physical affection and after he was adopted by Bruce he still got some(because lets face it Bruce was a softie for Dick when he was Robin) though a lot less because Bruce isn't a touchy person, but after being fired and going solo he had a lot less physical affection from his loved ones(especially when he had a "falling out" with the Titans and YJ). I think over time he became touched starved, thats why he gives bear hugs and is more affectionate to everyone. AlsoI think it got slightly better when he was Batman and had his Robin. That's why Damian is more clingy with him and allows Dicks affection (He also knows when not to touch)(Also you can't convince me Dick isn't Damians favourite person and that they don't share a father-son relationship (mentor-student, older brother-younger brother, hero-sidekick, hero-fan all of these also aply))

Dick is still angry with Bruce about a lot of things.

How he took away Robin. How he dared give it away without his notice or permission. How he made Robin into a mantle. How he found out he took in Jason and gave him Robin from a newspaper. How he failed Jason and then blamed him. How he didn't say that Jason died. How he wasn't even invited to his funeral. How he kept secret that Jason was alive. How he used a batarang on Jason, almost killing him again, instead of Joker. How he treated Damian when he first came here and sometimes even now. How he purposely separated him from Damian, because he was jealous (of their father-son relationship). How Bruce beat him into submission to join Spyral. How that wasn't the first time Bruce hit him. How Bruce never made a backup plan to extract him from Spyral. How Bruce forgot(got amnesia) him in Spyral. How he lied to his siblings that he went along willingly with it. (If you can't tell I like Angry Dick Grayson fics)

‌Dick and Slade are frenemies.

Basically as long as Dick doesn't interfere with his jobs, they are close friends, but as soon as he interferes they don't hold back from lethal force. I know Slade kidnapped him and kinda tortured him and Dick was obsessed with him to the point of insanity, BUT they both obsessed over one another so much that they know eachother the best and after a while they sorta lost their motivation to constantly fight(though spars are still fair game, the only rule is the other doesn't die) eachother. So now they meet up monthly to bitch and complain about their lives and gossip like old ladies, with some alcohol on a random rooftop. They are the embodiment of don't mix business with pleasure, when they meet on one of Slades jobs they pull out all stops and fight viciously, mercilessly and brutally, but the next day(night?) Slade comes over with the good whiskey and they spend their night watching the rom-coms, because Dick thinks it's funny to force the Terminator to watch them and because he's endlessly amused when Slade actually gets invested in it.

Dick Grayson taught Damian.

About the Romani language/culture, acrobatics, trapeze, circus, travel, all the recipes of Romani dishes that he knows, Romani stories, Robin tricks, stories, secrets (By Romani culture Damian is his son and they both decided to keep that a secret from the others, btw he also learned about Damians Arabic traditions, foods, language). I think that Damian values this more than his inheritance as an Al-Ghul and Wayne, because Dick chose to give his culture and inheritance to him, not because he was obliged to.

...So you seemed to like my rant's/headcanon's *throws cautiously some more headcanons in your direction*... have some more?

P.S. Someone pointed out that there are a lot of canon in the last post instead of headcanon's, but I read so little of the comics that I can't really tell whats canon and whats not.

#dick grayson #batfam #batman #jason todd #nightwing #robin #batfamily #damian wayne #dc comics #dc fandome #dc headcanon #dc universe #dcu #dc fanon #slade wilson #nightwing headcanon #dick grayson headcanon #and some others #anyway #I love Slade and Dick being wine aunts #though granted they're more like insane and sassy vodka dads #they both take care of children #(wether they're grown or bat shaped) #and they both are NOT lightweights #and if you think either of them have any sanity left then you're delusional

[avatar-anna]

Grief Fic, Part 2

this is a continuation of the fic i posted a few weeks ago where reader helps harry with his grief. you can read the first part here!

tw: themes/mentions of abuse/domestic violence.

as always, i try to be as sensitive as possible, and i never want to offend anyone or make them uncomfortable. there's nothing in this fic that's overly explicit, but there are mentions and allusions to dv.

Harry looked down at his phone and wondered if he was crazy for thinking it was strange that Y/n hadn't so much as emailed him in weeks.

Perhaps he was crazy. Perhaps he was putting too much thought into a situation that didn't actually exist. Perhaps he was reading a little too much into the fact that Y/n's new boyfriend was a raging asshole who was slowly but surely isolating her from all her friends and family.

Perhaps he wasn't crazy.

It wasn't like it was unusual for Y/n not to talk to Harry consistently. Both of them were plenty busy. He was a full time dad and simultaneously juggled a pretty successful music career—if he did say so himself—and she was the head nurse in the Labor and Delivery wing of a huge hospital. They went days without talking. It happened.

But this silence felt different.

It started with Y/n declining invitations. Sometimes Harry would invite her to a show if he was performing in town, or out for drinks when he needed a break from helping Harper with schoolwork and dance classes and Girl Scout troop meetings. Harry had plenty of friends he could go to and hang out with, but Y/n understood him in a way no one else did. She was Harper's godmother, had been his late wife's best friend. There were just some things that Harry felt comfortable talking to and confiding in with Y/n that he didn't with anyone else.

So when she started declining invitations to go out and stopped dropping by the house, Harry felt her absence. When she stopped coming over to see Harper, he'd became annoyed. And when she arrived late to their monthly family dinner looking like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks, he became worried.

"I've been picking up extra shifts at the hospital," she'd said, trying to wave off her fatigue. But Harry knew better. He'd known Y/n long enough to tell the difference between exhaustion from work and...whatever she was now.

And now she wasn't speaking to him at all. Harry called, texted, left messages at the hospital, and she didn't respond to a anything. As days went by, Harry couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach that something was seriously wrong with his friend.

His last effort was going to see her in person. Harry had managed to find out from one of Y/n's coworkers that she was off today, so he drove to her house, only when he knocked on the door, his friend wasn't the one who answered.

"What do you want?"

Harry had had the pleasure of meeting Y/n's boyfriend once, and for him, once was enough. He wasn't overtly rude—though now Harry would say otherwise—he just didn't really acknowledge his or Harper's presence the whole afternoon they were together. And while Harry realized that not everyone was a fan of kids, he couldn't help but think Y/n's boyfriend's icy demeanor toward his daughter was very telling.

Doing his best to swallow his negative thoughts and feelings, Harry mustered a smile. "I'm here to see Y/n. Is she here?"

"No."

"Okay...Do you know when she'll be back?" Harry asked, getting the feeling that extracting information from the man in front of him was probably going to be similar to pulling teeth.

"That's none of your concern."

Y/n's boyfriend tried to close the door in Harry's face, but Harry was having none of that. Putting his hand on the door, he said, "You know what? I think I'll just wait inside for her. It's pretty urgent."

"Back the fuck up—"

"Excuse me? You back the fuck—"

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

For a moment, relief washed over Harry. Y/n was alive, which Harry seriously started to doubt for a second there. Then, as his eyes did a quick scan of Y/n, some of that dread started to creep back in.

"Are you okay? What happened to you?"

She had fading bruises on one wrist, and harsh red marks on the other. Hand prints, Harry realized as he narrowed his eyes. He looked over at Y/n's boyfriend furiously. "What the fuck did you do to her?"

"None of your fucking business, popstar. Now get the fuck off my property."

Civility had flown out the window. Harry wasn't about to let this prick get in his face or treat Y/n like that. He didn't care who saw or if he was about to come to blows with this guy. All Harry knew was that the bastard had hurt his best friend, and Harry couldn't let him get away with that. "Get out of my face, of I swear I'll—"

"You'll what? What? What are you gonna—"

"Enough! Harry, please. I'm fine. Now's really not a good time. Please, just—please go."

Y/n had frantically put herself between Harry and her boyfriend, and now that they were so close, he could see just how dark the rings around her eyes were, just how hollow her cheeks had become. The shirt she was wearing was too loose on her. What the hell was going on here?

"Harry, please. Go."

Y/n sounded scared as she pleaded with him, and that told him everything he needed to know. "Promise you'll call me," he said, taking her hand in his. "Promise, Y/n."

Nodding quickly, she squeezed his hand feebly. "I promise."

Harry went reluctantly, nearly stormed over to her boyfriend and beat the shit out of him when he saw the smug smile on the bastard's face. But he swallowed his anger and frustration, not wanting Y/n to get caught in the crossfire.

When he got home, Harry was a nervous wreck. He was distracted as he made dinner and cleaned up around the house. Part of him was glad Harper was spending the weekend with Soph's parents so she wouldn't see him like this, but he could've used their nighttime routine to take his mind off things.

He waited. And waited. Nearly stayed up all night in the hopes that she would call him. He must've fallen asleep at some point, though, as he woke up with a start on his couch. When he turned his phone on, there was nothing from Y/n.

*.*

"You were there for me, Y/n. What makes you think I wouldn't do the same for you."

"I don't want your help—I don't need your help, so just—just let it go, Harry!"

"He's trying to isolate you, Y/n," Harry said gently. "He's creating a wall between you and everyone who loves you and knows you and wants what's best for you. Can't you see that?"

Harry looked at Y/n sadly, which only seemed to piss her off even more than she already was. She'd been defensive, tried to convince him that she didn't need his pity or his help. This wasn't the same scenario, she insisted. She wasn't a danger to herself the way he had been two years ago. She was fine. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

It was all spilling out of her, yet it only made it more clear to Harry that she needed him.

"That's not what's happening. He's my boyfriend. Why wouldn't we spend time alone together?"

"Harper misses you," he said, going for a different angle. "She keeps asking when she'll get to see you, and I can't give her a straight answer. We're your family, Y/n, and he won't let you see us."

"That's not—That's not fair," Y/n said, not wanting to believe the truth, which was that Harry might be right.

"What's going on out here?"

"You're right. It isn't. It isn't fair that you call me crying three times a week because your boyfriend is out and you can't reach him. It isn't fair that he expects you to cook and clean for him when he's a grown man and you have a full time job. It isn't fair that he belittles you and—" Harry paused, the emotion he felt catching in his voice as he thought about the state of her wrists the last time he saw her.

He hadn't seen Y/n in weeks, but a few days after he went to her house, she called Harry absolutely beside herself at the situation she was in. He talked to her for hours, calming her down and reassuring her that he was there and so was his home if she needed somewhere to get away. And for the first time, Harry was convinced that Y/n was seeing reason.

Until days passed and she never left him, which led to a weeks-long cycle of her calling him crying, him comforting her over the phone while she convinced him she was done, and somehow never ended up leaving him. Harry finally couldn't take it any longer and drove to her place again. Seeing her slowly whither away, seeing her less and less physically because her boyfriend wouldn't let her hang out with him or Harper, it killed him. "It isn't fair that he's turned you into this—this shell of the person you once were. It's not right, Y/n—"

Harry didn't miss the way Y/n jumped at the sound of his voice, or the way she subconsciously curled in on herself. It was like she wilted every time he walked into a room, or tried to be as small as possible so he wouldn't notice her. How could she not realize it?

"Nothing, baby. Go back inside," Y/n, her hand shaking as she rested it on his arm.

"Is he giving you trouble? I thought I told you I didn't like you hanging out with him. What's he doing here?" he said, sending a withering glare Harry's way.

Harry stared right back, unwilling to let the piece of shit unnerve him. He had half a mind to say something when Y/n spoke up first.

"He was just going, I promise," she said, turning her eyes on Harry pleadingly.

Harry wanted to say something so badly. He wanted to shake his best friend by the shoulders and make her see reason. This man she called a boyfriend wasn't a man at all, but a monster, and he hated how much Y/n had changed because of him.

But Y/n still couldn't see what he saw, and starting a fight when he knew she would side with her boyfriend wouldn't do any good. It would probably just isolate her even more than she already was, which said something. It had been hard for Harry to tell when he was on the road, but now that he was back for a few months, his stomach was constantly in knots.

It made him miss his wife sometimes. Harry knew that Sophia would know exactly what to say to Y/n, to Harry. She would've been the voice of reason in all of this mess; she would've stopped this mess before it even started. And Harry couldn't help but feel partly to blame for not being around for Y/n when it was so clear she needed someone to look out for her. She'd always been so good at helping others, but it was as if she gave all her kindness and compassion to her patients and friends and family and saved none of it for herself.

"Go, Harry. Please."

Harry could see it, then. The terror. The fear that something might escalate if he stayed, which meant that at least on some level, Y/n knew that her boyfriend was bad news. So why put up with him?

He didn't want to go, but he didn't see any alternatives. Promising himself that he'd call first thing tomorrow morning, Harry nodded and backed down the walkway that led to Y/n's home.

*.*

It was a few weeks later when Harry spoke to Y/n again. He texted her constantly, and sometimes he would get a response. Then all of a sudden, nothing. It was like she'd gone radio silent again. Harry never liked involving Harper in all this, but just once he had her try to call Y/n, but there was still no answer, which was when he really started to worry. Y/n might have cut him off, but he never thought she would do the same to his daughter.

So now he was driving to the hospital. As far as he knew, Y/n was still working in L&D, and even if she wasn't working today, he hoped to get some answers from her coworkers.

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry mustered a small smile for Miranda, Y/n's friend at work. He saw her often when he and Harper visited Y/n at the hospital, and she would always give Harper sweets from behind the counter. "My secret stash," Miranda would say with a wink. Harry never really considered the Labor and Delivery wing of a hospital somewhere where his daughter enjoyed spending her time, but they went often enough that he was pretty sure she liked it more than going to the park.

"Miranda. Hey. Is Y/n in today?"

The cheery look on Miranda's face faltered, which told Harry everything he needed to know. "She, um, she called out today. Said it was the flu."

"Do we really believe that?" Harry said.

Miranda's expression looked strained. "I—I don't know, Harry. I don't like to talk about it."

"I know, I'm sorry," he said. It was awkward to talk about Y/n when she wasn't here. Miranda was just a work friend, but Harry could tell that she knew more about Y/n's situation than she let on. But even so, it would be uncomfortable to talk about. "I'm—I'm just worried, that's all. "

"I know you are, Harry. I, um, I can spare a few minutes in just a bit if you want to wait over there," she said, nodding her head toward the waiting room where families and future fathers were anxiously awaiting good news.

Desperate, Harry nodded and found a seat in the waiting room. The minute he sat down, his leg bounced anxiously while his fingers toyed with his bottom lip. He just couldn't help but feel like something bad was going to happen. His stomach twisted itself into knots to the point where he had to bend over and wait for the stress to pass, but every time one of his texts or calls went unanswered, it just got worse.

"Is this your first?"

Startled, Harry looked to his left to find a man about his age sitting two seats away from him. He also looked nervous, but in an excited sort of way. Harry's brows furrowed for a moment before remembering where he was sitting. "Oh, um no. My friend works here. I'm just waiting for her."

Seeing this man did distract Harry in a way. He remembered his own experience as an expectant father. Sophia had gone into labor a few weeks early, and Harry was on the other side of town buying some last minute things for the baby when he got the call. He'd missed nearly all of it, but Y/n had been there. She'd always been there for his family .

"Oh, sorry," the man said, and Harry noticed his fidgeting hands and nervous looks toward the entrance of the delivery room. "My girlfriend wanted me to wait out here. She claimed I shouldn't have to see her in such a compromised position. I disagreed, but she insisted."

Harry smiled, some of the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "It's..." He didn't even know how to describe it, but he wouldn't have exchanged sharing that experience with Soph for the world. Eventually, he said, "Good on you for respecting her wishes."

"Thanks. I mean, we weren't exactly dating when she got pregnant and we haven't known each other all that long, so it makes sense, but I love her, you know? I want to be there for her."

"I know the feeling."

For a moment, Harry thought of his wife. When she got sick, Harry had been there for her for every doctor's visit, every scan, every appointment, every symptom. He never let Soph feel like she was facing her illness alone. Because he loved her, and he promised to take care of her and be there for her when they got married.

Then, flashes of Y/n appeared in Harry's mind. He thought about how important she was to him, to Harper. She was there to pick up the pieces that Soph had left when she died. When no one else knew how to reach him, she did, and he never imagined there would be a way to repay her kindness. And now that there was, he couldn't just let her keep fading the way he had been two years ago. The situations weren't the same, but it was dire enough to keep him up most nights as he waited for the call to take her away from her awful excuse of a boyfriend.

Before the man could say anything else, a nurse appeared in front of him with a large smile on her face. Harry was left to stew in his anxiety-riddled mind once again. He tried not to look at his phone too much, but he still checked every few minutes, even though his ringer was on high and he wouldn't have missed a single text. He wanted to call until she picked up, but he also worried that her boyfriend would see and get suspicious or delete his number, so he settled on waiting for Y/n to do the right thing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Miranda appeared at his side. She nodded at Harry to follow her, and he hastily stood up while they left L&D behind.

"You know, we deal with psycho ex boyfriends, husbands, what have you, all the time who try to force their way into the Delivery Room," she said as she walked, shaking her head sadly. "And she—she doesn't take shit from any of them, doesn't even flinch, and yet—"

Miranda's voice hitched as it trailed off, but Harry knew what she meant. Y/n was strong, didn't take shit from anyone. When he was lost in the darkest moments of his life, she was there to give him the tough love he needed to survive. She pushed him around, held him up in the shower, practically forced him to get better. And still—

"I don't know what to do."

Y/n had seemed to know exactly what Harry needed without him having to tell her, without him even knowing what he needed. What kind of friend was he if he couldn't do the same?

Miranda gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "You just have to be there for her when she realizes who he is."

"I can't wait that long! He's a monster—"

"You have to, or you'll just push her further away from you," Miranda said. "I know it's hard, believe me, we've fought about it at work, but she's not listening to reason right now. Saying the wrong thing will isolate her even more."

"I would never abandon her," Harry insisted.

"I know, and deep down she knows that too," Miranda said gently. "But if you push her the wrong way, she might think she's burned a bridge with you and not reach out when she's ready."

Harry understood what Miranda was getting at, he really did. He was currently walking on a tightrope, and one wrong move, one wrong comment could send him careening to the ground and Y/n would be left standing alone. He just wished he knew what to say to make her see what he did.

Harry shook his head. "I can't wait for him to do something to seriously hurt her. I would never forgive myself if—"

Harry didn't even want to finish that sentence, but luckily he was saved by his phone's ringer. Relief filled his gut for a moment, then dissipated when he saw it was an unknown number. Still, taking a chance, he answered.

"Hi, is this Harry Styles?"

Not a question he received often, but the person on the other line sounded official, so he said, "Yes, this is he."

"This is Lisa from the ER at Dayton Health Medical Center. We have you listed here as Y/n L/n's emergency contact."

"Yes, that's me. Is everything okay? Is Y/n hurt? What happened—"

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Styles. Y/n just took a tumble down some stairs and is in need of a lift home. Are you able to come get her, or is there someone else I can call?"

"No!" Harry said, perhaps a little too intensely. Quieting his voice, he said, "No, I can—I can be there in twenty minutes."

"Great. Be sure to bring your parking ticket. We validate at the front desk."

Harry all but scrambled to his car, sending a hasty text to his mum asking her to pick Harper from school. He told the woman on the phone that he would be there in twenty minutes, but damn it if he didn't make it in fifteen.

*.*

"Your wife is just behind this curtain, Mr. Styles."

Harry didn't even have time to correct the nurse, to register the ache in his chest at the word "wife." All he cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. He did, however, take a moment to steady his breathing before pushing back the curtain, praying for calm thoughts as he set his eyes on his friend.

Truth be told, Harry didn't know where to look first.

On the phone, he was told Y/n had fallen down the stairs and that she was fine, but she definitely didn't look it. Her cheek was bruised a greenish-yellow, and bled across the bridge of her nose. A cut marred her bottom lip, making one side look puffy and beyond painful. Her right arm was in a sling too, and each injury that Harry spotted filled him with more and more anger.

"What are you doing here?"

Y/n's voice was slightly distorted by her swollen lip, but he could tell she wasn't exactly happy to see him.

"I'm your emergency contact," Harry said simply, trying not to linger on any of her injuries for too long. He figured Y/n went to a different hospital to avoid being seen by anyone she knew, but she obviously forgot about him being her emergency contact. "What are you doing here?"

"I fell."

He'd hoped Y/n would give up the charade, but he wasn't surprised that she hadn't, either. "I heard. How did that happen?"

That question seemed to splinter the damn surrounding Y/n's heart. With a shaking hand, she covered her face and began to cry.

Harry was surprised by the tears, expecting his friend to deflect and lie the way she had been the last couple months. But with the first tremble of her shoulders, he was there, sliding into the cot beside her. He was gentle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and brought her to his chest. He didn't like how frail Y/n felt, or how she flinched at first before settling against him.

"I don't know how this happened," she sobbed. "I never—I love him, and he—How can I love someone who did this to me?"

Not having the answer, Harry just continued to hold her, letting her get out everything she needed to. She didn't say much after that, and while he was desperate to know how she'd sustained so many injuries, he stayed quiet.

He expected to feel angry at Y/n's boyfriend, or perhaps angrier. But all he felt as she cried in his arms was despair, and perhaps a small seed of relief that she finally seemed to understand the danger she was in. And maybe guilt too, that he couldn't protect her the way she needed him to.

Harry kept it all to himself, rubbing his thumb across her shoulder and squeezing her gently. "You're gonna be okay."

"I don't know what I'm gonna do."

It was all he could think of to say. He didn't know how to answer her question, and he knew she wouldn't be okay for a while, but she would be. Harry would make sure of it.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said quietly. "You've been trying to get me to see the truth for weeks, for months, and I didn't listen. I didn't—"

"Hey, none of that."

Harry continued to hold Y/n and stroked her hair gently until her breathing evened out and she was fast asleep. Relief washed over him like a bucket of ice water down his back. He could physically feel some of the tension leave his shoulders. Now that Y/n was asleep, Harry allowed himself to really feel everything he put a lid on since the curtains were pulled back on her section of the Emergency Room. He was scared, anxious, mad, but mostly just relieved she was safe. His heart was hammering in his chest, but the familiar smell of her shampoo eased his mind, and the way she curled into his side while she slept helped him feel like he was keeping her safe.

"I'm so happy you're safe," he whispered into the crowd of Y/n's head. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

*.*

A few weeks later, and Y/n and Harry were lounging on the couch together after dinner. Harper was asleep in her room after Y/n read her a bedtime story. His daughter had been ecstatic when Harry told her Y/n would be staying with them for a while, and even though she was recovering from her injuries, she still played dress up and tea time and built forts and made cookies and basically anything Harper wanted to do. Y/n was quieter and more subdued than usual, but her smile continued to grow as each day went by. It was just a little, just not by bit, but it was progress.

Now they were both lounging after dinner—one that Y/n insisted she make for Harry and Harper. They were talking about the album he was slowly but steadily working on. Well, Harry was talking, Y/n was listening quietly with one hand holding the stem of her wine glass.

When a lull in the conversation settled them in comfortable silence, Harry found himself looking at Y/n. He hated seeing her beautiful face so marred, and not just physically. The usual playful glint in her eye was gone, and she didn't smile as much anymore, and when she did, it didn't reach her eyes. He missed seeing her smile, seeing the light fill her eyes when she laughed at one of his lame jokes.

But in the last few days, Y/n's bruises started to heal, she was getting her sling off at the end of the week, and she didn't flinch when he helped her change her bandages or at casual touches from him. Things weren't totally back to normal, seeing as she still didn't feel comfortable staying alone at her place, but Harry was confident that they would be.

Harry blinked, his face flushing when he realized he'd been caught staring. Shaking his head, he looked at Y/n funny. "You'll stay with me obviously. I'll send someone to get you some extra clothes and stuff and you can stay with me and Harper while we work on getting your locks changed. Or longer. Whatever you need."

He sounded so matter of fact, so sure. It made Y/n want to cry. "I meant, like, far into the future," she said, running a tired hand through her hair. "I've always been able to trust my judgement, but now? I'll never look at a guy the same again."

"Rude," Harry joked. A desperate attempt to lighten the mood, but you appreciated it.

"You don't count. You're..."

"I'm...What?"

Hers. Y/n couldn't bring herself to say it, though, even if it was true. Sophia was Harry's great love, the mother of his child. Y/n would never even consider him as someone to date, which was a shame because he was quite possibly the perfect man in every other respect.

"My friend. I think you've held my hair back one too many times as I puked my guts up."

Harry nodded and laughed, but he didn't say anything after that. He looked contemplative, as if a million thoughts were swirling around in his head. Y/n was curious to know what he was thinking so hard about, but wasn't at the same time. Maybe some of their thoughts were best left unsaid.

"Well, I have an early shift tomorrow. I should probably get to bed," Y/n said eventually, standing up from her spot on Harry's sofa.

Harry nodded and mumbled something about having to take Harper to school early too, and she couldn't help but feel like there was this tension between them. Maybe not tension, but something. Something was off-kilter between them, and she couldn't put her finger on it.

As she went up the stairs to the guest bedroom, the same one she stayed in for as long as she'd been Harry's friend, he called her name. She turned to find him at the base of the stairs looking up at her with a fond little smile on his face.

"I meant what I said earlier. Stay as long as you need to. You'll always have a home here."

The words filled Y/n with warmth, making her feel safer and more settled than she had in months. In that moment, there was so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't even begin to vocalize, but even with the distance between them, she could read the look in Harry's eyes and knew she didn't have to say a thing.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[cumulo-stratus]

MASTERLIST

(absolutely lovely dividers by @cafekitsune <3)

Fluff- ☀️ Angst- 🌧️ Angst w/ comfort- 🌦️ Moodboard- 🌨️

Requests- closed :(

last updated- 4/15/24

FLUFFTOBER-

one fic for everyday of october based around a fluffy prompt, (im sure we all know the drill by now <3)

Long Gone[e.p] ☀️ - emily and reader share their first kiss in the after hours of the bau

Rainy Love [s.r]☀️ - y/n has always loved the rain, and decides to share that love with spencer (ps this was idea was inspired by a fic by the lovely user @ssa-atlas-alvez <3)

I’ll Remember for us [s.r] ☀️ - the team goes to Los Angeles, and y/n (the ever emotionless and stone cold profiler with a soft spot for spencer) is chasing an unsub when they fight and falls, getting a concussion and fractured wrist, spencer is there for him. (no prior romantic relationship, just friends)

Rain Soaked Sleep [s.r] ☀️ - Y/n and Spencer get home after a long week at the BAU and a rainy drive home, ready to fall asleep to the sound of rain.

Oh How I Love Loving You[s.r] ☀️ - Y/n and spencer share their first dance as a married couple at their fall wedding in y/ns hometown in new england

Softest Curls in All the Kingdom [s.r] ☀️ - Y/n enjoys playing with spencers hair on jet back home

“They’re Ours!” [s.r] ☀️ - My HC's around Spencer and sharing clothes over the course of your relationship.

There’s nothing wrong with being different[s.r] ☀️ - Spencer and his husband talk to their daughter when she gets in trouble for punching someone (daughter is 10)

Soaked in Adoration[s.r] ☀️ - My HC's around spencer and bathing/showering with his partner

“For Me?”[s.r] ☀️ - Y/n brings spencer an early Christmas gift relating to their shared special interest of the sci-fi fantasy series Dune

“You do this everyday?”[s.r] ☀️ - y/n has a pretty popular cooking channel and one day after y/n doesnt edit out spencer givving y/n a kiss when he gets home the fans go crazy wanting a video where you bake together so you make a vid answering questions while making a fall recipe

Love in the form of paper[s.r] ☀️ - Spencer tries to teach his best friend how to make an origami heart- but y/n still struggles

“Lend me some vanilla?” [s.r] ☀️ - Y/n goes to spencers house to ask spencer if he has any vanilla extract when theres a possible gas leak and no ones allowed to leave their aparment until the morning when someone can come check it out...

Sneaky snuggles [s.r] ☀️ -y/n is woken up to a surprise of his boyfriend being home- despite the fact that his case was supposed to run at least another day or two.

The good days [s.r] ☀️ - spencer and y/n go stargazing, and y/n indulges spencer with facts about his special interest- astronomy

Protector[s.r] ☀️ - after an unsub tries to hurt y/n, spencer steps in.

Lover -

the love story of y/n l/n and Spencer Reid

Ours ☀️ - Spencer finally has a conversation with the boy on the train

Enchanted 🌦️ - Spencer's insecurities grow in his friendship with y/n when he finds out about Gina

More coming soon…

Criminal Minds -

“They’re ours!”[s.r] ☀️ - Sharing clothes with Spencer Reid

BAU/Autism [s.r] ☀️ - How the team supports you and your autism

Soaked in adoration [s.r] ☀️ - Bath time with spencer headcannons

Dating Aaron [a.h] ☀️ - what would it be like to date Aaron Hotchner?

More coming soon…

Criminal Minds -

Like we always do [s.r] 🌦️ - (request) after Spencer proposes to his partner they decide they have to tell Spencer what they had been thinking about for months- and Spencer is always ready to support his partner

Communication issues [s.r] ☀️ - reader is from France and lived there until he was 11/12 and then moved to america and his first language is french. He also has a little bit of an accent. Basically reader is new to the team and it is their first late night back home on the jet with him. And basically they learn that when hes tired he reverts back to his mother tongue.

The fencer [s.r]☀️ - reader is a fencer and is competing in the 2023 mens saber nationals and spencer invites the team to cheer on his boyfriend. (Could be read as ftm) (Also spencer is like low key autistic in this)

Smart cookie [s.r]☀️ - (request) reader asks for readers help with a new tattoo he wants, and when reader calls Spencer a smart cookie Spencer gets flustered, and reader can't help himself

Love like a fathers [s.r]🌦️ - (request) Y/n gets hurt protecting spencer from an unsub, and they spend some time together in the hospital.

Flashback [s.r]🌦️ - spencer discusses his thoughts around having kids with his spouse after putting their daughter Diana to bed (written for @cmgiftexchange)

New Years Kiss [s.r]☀️ - You and Spencer share a New Years kiss at Rossi's house to celebrate

The Little Things [a.h]☀️ - (request) you notice all the little things Aaron does for you everyday (could be read as romantic or platonic)

Fantozzi [s.r] ☀️ - (request) The BAU decides to have a movie night at Rossi's house, and Spencer you and Spencer find a quiet corner to sit in. You both fall asleep and cuddling ensues..

Glitter Girl [p.g] ☀️ - (request) Penelope and her best friend share some banter over the phone

French Press Coffee [s.r] 🌦️ - (request) Spencer insist you take a break despite your objections

Embrace [s.r] 🌦️ - spencer doesnt feel like hes anything more than his intelligence, but ethan proves him wrong.

More coming soon…

MCU -

Ill always be here [m.j]🌦️ - you come out to your parents and they kick you out after your dad slaps you but mj comforts you and lets you stay with her. 

“You know your really pretty?” [m.j]☀️ - its late and y/n cant sleep so theyre ranting to MJ, its basically just a bunch of fluff crammed into a couple paragraphs

More coming soon…

Criminal Minds -

Paranormal [bau] 🌦️ - (request) y/n has a secret, can he keep it despite the circumstances?

Picture to Burn [s.r]🌧️ - (part of lover series) Everything's falling apart, but will Spencer have the strength to put it back together?

More coming soon…

Criminal Minds -

An indie fall with Spencer [s.r] 🌨️ - (request) A moodboard for an indie fall with spencer <3

A rainy day in with Spencer [s.r] 🌨️ - a moodboard for a rainy day inside with Spencer <3

College professor AU [s.r] 🌨️ - a moodboard for a college professor spencer reid <3

One car [b.a.u] ☀️ - in which all the members of the BAU are stuck in one car for a little while

"your my pillow now" [s.r] ☀️ - spencer reid x male reader

"I can still feel you" [s.r] 🌧️ - spencer reid x gn!reader

More coming soon…

#criminal minds #spencer reid #bau #bau team #fluff #gay #spencer reid x reader #flufftober #spencer reid x male reader #criminal minds master list #BAU master list #spencer reid master list #master list #master post #moodboard #fanfic #angst with comfort #oneshot #headcannon #marvel #MJ #Michelle jones #spider man #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x ftm reader #mj x gn reader

[kitorin]

to you, my lover.

in which, shinonome akito surprises his favourite writer.

contents. shinonome akito x gn!reader, just fluff really, <- might've ruined it with an attempt of crack, unproofread and messy bc i can't think properly anymore a/n. this was supposed to be my birthday fic, i didn't finish it in time and was considering deleting but nah not today

You're tired. Really tired.

It's not a complaint, being permitted to stay out late to celebrate your birthday, now returning on a long yet peaceful and empty train ride. With the occasional rattling, it was silent, with the exception of your tired breathing and the rustle of your clothes every time you shuffled around a bit.

And your boyfriend.

Arms crossed and back leaned against his seat, his eyes remain shut, resting a bit after such a long day. Fatigue pays a visit to you as well, a yawn claws out of your throat, earning an immediate reaction from Akito.

Arm snaking behind your head, he pulls you in by the shoulder, making sure you rest comfortably against his. You snuggle against him, the scent of his cologne makes you crave more of him and his touch. The jacket that was once resting on his lap is thrown over you, and carefully he adjusts it, without moving his shoulder.

"Tired?"

You nod, resting your eyes a bit.

"If you're able to stay awake, I want to give you my gift."

"Excuse me?" As if you weren't ever exhausted in the first place you sit up, staring at him with confusion. "Akito, you bought me pretty much every book on my 'to be read'. Not to mention the promise rings too." Your glance at the silver wrapping around your finger, amber and saffron imbedded into it. "I told you so many times I didn't need anything, let alone something that would've costed so much."

Akito shrugs casually. "There's no such thing as 'too much' when it comes to you."

"And there's a thing called being financially irresponsible..."

"I'm managing my money carefully, I swear." He pledges with breathless laughter. "I assure you it wasn't expensive, I promise. I'm going to give you the world when I go professional, anyways." He fishes for something out of his bag, something small and wrapped with colourful paper.

"This feels like a book." You comment instantly, it's easy to identify when you've received so many for your birthday.

Akito shrugs again in response. "Check it, then."

You oblige to his words, unwrapping the package in a manner that didn't make a mess on the train. Your guess was correct, it is a book. Only this time with an unrecognisable title and author— it didn't have either. It was white, with nothing else.

"Who's the author?"

Another shrug, and you decide not to bother asking anymore questions. You turn to the first page.

Table of contents. This time you recognise the titles.

Because they belong to none other than you.

"You printed it out all of this?" You've re-read your writing constantly, whether it be proof-reading or trying to figure out how to elevate your prose. But when it's in your hands in the form of a book instead of the words you type up on your laptop, it feels surreal, maybe even a bit wrong. It's everything you've sent and shown him, whether it be fan fiction, attempts at poetry, extracts of screenplays, or snippets from future novels you plan on publishing.

"'Course I did. You love books, I love you and your writing." Akito says it all the time, always being the first person to read your works, sending a plethora of text messages about his thoughts on them.

You inspect the contents of the book, and as he said it's all your work. But, pale highlighter adorns the pages, black ink decorating in between lines, hearts and even more words committed to paper.

The imagery here is gorgeous here. I love these words especially ->

Although I can't and don't, I feel like I can relate to this character, the way you express their internal thoughts and actions makes me feel like I've become them

Why is he so adorable?? The dialogue is so sweetly comforting.

I think this one's my favourite. It was super cute. Short and simple but enough to make me smile all day.

You turn to another story, this one with a darker premise.

SHE DESERVES BETTER !!

This hurts so much ╥﹏╥ Internal monologue is a 11/10 (as always)

Uh oh...

PLEASE HAVE MERCY

SCREW YOU SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING

This one's my new favourite. Thanks for making me cry

(my tear stains) Small arrows point towards (formerly) wet patches on the page, the evidence left there shocks you.

"You actually cried? And annotated your tears?" Not once, but multiple times, on each work that connoted anything sad.

"Love, your writing, just like you, makes me feel a lot. It's not often I cry, you know." He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. "Hope my annotations did it some justice."

Each comment makes you smile irresistibly, whether it was a serious paragraph breaking down and analysing specific moments or 'someone cooked here.' being scrawled. No details were missed by him, ones that you assumed were too subtle and therefore unnecessary because no one in your comments noticed them.

"You noticed all of this? None of my friends or readers did."

"Of course I did. I've read everything over and over again and love you too much to miss any of those details."

"And every note at the end is synonymous for 'new favourite'." It's not a complaint, it's quite adorable really, watching him struggle to make up his mind. "You even compiled your favourite quotes at the end? You think my stuff is quoteworthy?"

"How could I not? Heck, I don't think an anthology is enough. I need it tattooed somewhere on me." A gasp severs his words. "I know exactly what I'm going to do on my eighteenth birthday."

"Don't. Think about it." But the prospect of him loving your prose enough to permanently etch it into your skin makes you smile. "But seriously. This is beautiful, thank you." You're not sure why it feels so different, despite Akito always texting you these sorts of comments. Perhaps it was it's physical manifestation that had evoked so much emotion.

"I remember, when I first opened up to you."

And so do you. It was certainly awkward, with a plentiful amount of tears and uncertainty. But in the end you found yourself comprehending Akito and his character more, which was worth any sort of unpleasantries.

"You ended up analysing every song I covered or wrote. And you still do. I kept those notebooks with me, and read them whenever I felt worried. It's you. You're the reason why I can listen to recordings of myself without wanting to hide. Took me a while, but without you I wouldn't've achieved it."

You peer up at him, as he gazes at the train's roof, reminiscing those memories. You had contemplated for so long, wondering whether that act would've truly done anything, whilst worrying about embarrassing yourself. Now, being able to admire the peaceful expression he wore, you can easily say you have no regrets.

"I wanted to do the same for you. I didn't like how you weren't able to see the perfection your writing held." Akito's hand reaches for yours. "I know what it's like. To hate your own art because of what other people say and growing fearful of another's opinion, or how subjectivity doesn't seem to be in your favor. It's suffocating, that's why you mean the whole world to me for freeing me of that insecurity." He bites his lip, a method he relies on to quell any strong emotion.

He's spot on. The words of others are equally as capable of hurting as they are uplifting. It's common advice to not heed any mind to others, but when it comes to writing it always felt necessary to you. No matter how well you wrote to satisfy yourself, it didn't mean anything if no one else liked it; it meant no sales, meaning no money, which only meant that writing was an invalid career for the future unless it pleased others.

Even if it weren't a professional pursuit, it doesn't feel like something one can establish its value, at least, not without the validation of others.

"You were the lens I needed to see the beauty in myself. And I want to be the one you need."

You smile, planting a kiss on his lips. "Think you already are."

Akito sighs with a grin, "Then, I can die happy now."

A playful, gentle, slap hits his shoulder. "Quit being so overdramatic."

"What? Would've been a waste if the best author in the entirety of human history didn't get to see how amazing them and their writing were."

"Now you're just hyperbolising everything."

He pokes you in the cheek. "I see you smiling."

"Because of how ridiculous you are." You thank the train for being empty tonight, otherwise you wouldn't have the freedom of quarreling. "You're an idiot. Sometimes."

"And I still think having one of your quotes tattooed onto me would be a good idea."

Akito's persistent, even when it came to things that appeared to be mere jokes. "That's so random—? No you're not getting any of my writing tattooed onto you."

"Fine, but left pec or right pec?"

"Oh my god." Though you scold him, the rest dissolves into breathless laughter, as he pulls you in for a hug.

He scatters kisses all over your face, as you savour the warmth of his body. "Happy birthday, love."

taglist (send ask to be added) : @yuzurins, @pokkomi, @chigirizzz

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

#bye my writing game has been so off recently ngl #(at least on tumblr :>) #shinonome akito #pjsekai #shinonome akito x reader #pjsk #prsk #pjsk x reader #akito shinonome #proseka #vbs #prosekai x reader #fluff #colorful stage #akito shinonome x reader

[chickensarentcheap]

Lost and Found- Chapter Twenty

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (OFC. But you do not have to read the others in the series to understand this fic.)

Warnings: some profanity.

*Includes Extraction 2 canon mentions

Tagging: @youflickedtooharddamnit @munstysmind @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @theesirenteller @asirensrage @residentdormouse @ninjasawakenedmystar @ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @occommunity @thebejeweledwatercat @kmc1989 @karimac @themaradwrites @alisbackalleybbq

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/127894162

My tag list is open!! Please just let me know if you'd like to be added :)

Chapter Summary: Tyler Rake, John Wick, and Alcott walk into a bar...

*****

They make quite the threesome in The Continental lounge. Wick with his American drawl, infamous slicked-back hair, and all-black attire, Alcott with his crisp English accent, neatly tailored pants, and cashmere sweater, and Tyler in his ‘casual best’. A simple black Henley shirt and well-worn and faded, olive green cargo pants he’s had for years; tattered around the cuffs and sporting holes in the side pockets.

Three entirely different yet somehow similar men; a combination of unique backgrounds yet familiar circumstances. Their lives filled with loss and heartbreak, and their hands drenched in the blood of many.

And their bank accounts much fuller because of it.

“Now explain this to me again,” Alcott implores from his middle seat at the bar, nursing the remains of his drink. “Like I’m a three-year-old. Because the information is just not getting through. You’re not telling her WHY?”

Sighing, Tyler takes a sip of water. “It’s not that we’re NEVER going to tell her. It’s just that we’re waiting.”

“Waiting for what? Hell to freeze over? Pigs to fly? Just what are you waiting for?”

“For the right time.”

“And just what constitutes the ‘right time’? The child’s existed for nearly five years. She’s been asking about her father for almost a full two of those. If you ask me, there’s no time like the present. She already admitted to loving you. What more do you need?”

“It doesn’t matter if she already loves me or not. Esme and I agreed; that we'd hold off on saying anything.”

“But why? If the little one is already this attached to you and you…by my brief albeit brilliant observation… are already attached to her…”

“She’s been through enough. I mean, it’s been a hell of a four days for US and we’re grown-ass adults. She’s not even five. A baby still.”

“Baby or not, she’s resilient as hell and stronger than either of you are giving her credit for. You don’t think it would be a welcome surprise? In the midst of all the bullshit? Don’t you think it wouldn’t give her something to smile about? To learn you’re her dad?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It matters a hell of a lot. It’s your damn swimmers that helped make the child. You’ve got more of a say in this than you realize. Don’t be a pussy, Rake. I know you love the woman, but stand up for yourself. Tell her to shit or get off the pot.”

Smirking, Tyler sips at his water. “You saying something bad about Esme? Of all people?

“I’m not saying anything bad about her. I’m simply saying she’s being foolish. That this is all just a bunch of horseshit. There’s no reason to keep it from her. It’s not like it’s horrible news. For either of you.”

“You gonna say all that to Esme’s face? Tell her she’s making a mistake? Being foolish?”

“No. And you’re not going to tell her I said it, either. I’d prefer to keep my balls exactly where they are, thank you very much. And you…” He nudges Wick with his elbow. “...does any of this make sense to you?”

In response, Wick bobs his head from side to side, then shrugs his shoulders.

“What the hell is that…” Alcott mimics the gesture. “... supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t have a horse in this race. I’m just here to listen. To support. Not throw my two cents in.”

“How very diplomatic of you. I hope you’re not going to be like this when we get out onto the street. All passive and shit. I can barely carry my own weight most days, I don’t need to be carrying yours as well.”

“Job me and ‘real life me’ are two totally different people.”

“You must have an opinion. One way or another. Does it make sense to you, or is it just the stupidest damn thing you’ve ever heard of?”

“My opinion means nothing. I’m not taking sides in this. I’m not a father. I don’t have kids.”

“What does that matter?”

“It matters a lot. It means I don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to telling other people what to do with their children.”

“I don’t have any either…”

“That you know of,” Tyler mutters.

“...but I know when something is purely idiotic. And this is about as idiotic as it gets. Tell us. Come on. How do you feel about all this? What do you THINK about it?”

“I think…” Wick downs his bourbon and then waves the empty glass at the bartender. “...I need another drink.”

“You alright, mate? Do you need to talk about it? Whatever you’ve got going on? ‘Cause there’s a couch over there…” Alcott nods in the direction of the lounge. “...and you can lie on it and I’ll sit next to you and you can talk to me like I’m a therapist. Gonna cost you, though. One sixty-five an hour.”

“And would that be in US dollars or pounds?”

Sighing in exasperation, Alcott turns back to Tyler. “You realize this is a stupid idea, yeah? Keeping it from her? That little girl is smarter than any of you are giving her credit for. And she’s been wanting a dad in her life since she’s practically been old enough to talk. I know you think you’re protecting her, but…”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do. Protect her. She’s been through enough. More than any kid should have to go through. So we’re just giving her a little bit of a break and…”

“Hearing that you’re her father IS the break. That bit of good news in the midst of all the bullshit. Don’t you think it’ll lift her spirits? Especially after what happened this morning? That incident scared her to bits; she needs some kind of assurance that her entire world isn’t going straight to hell. That she’s safe and secure and no one else is going to hurt her.”

“And I can give her all of that. I can keep her safe. I can stop anyone from getting to her. She doesn’t need to know I’m her dad for all of that to happen.”

Wick speaks up. “If I may be so bold…”

“Oh, now you have something to say,” Alcott chides. “After you get a fourth one into ya. Need the booze to loosen your lips and tongue, do you mate?”

Tyler nods, signifying for him to go ahead.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say anything because I’m trying not to put myself right in the middle of your personal life. But…”

Tyler scowls. “Mate, you’ve been in it for years. Since you kept Esme’s whereabouts a secret. And then didn’t bother telling me about my kid. You have been knee-deep in my personal life for a while.”

“I did what was asked of me,” Wick defends himself. “Esme’s my friend. She needed my help. I gave it to her. And I wasn’t going to betray her confidence. For anyone. And I’m sorry; if that puts me on your shit list permanently. But I did what I had to do.”

“It wasn’t up to any of us to tell you where she was or that you had a kid,” Alcott adds. “None of that was ours to tell. She asked for our help, we gave it. It wasn’t anything personal against you. Although I still think she could have done a hell of a lot better than a two brain cell having, knuckle-dragging, nappy-headed bastard from Queensland.”

“I think it would do Millie a world of good to hear that you’re her dad,” Wick continues. “She needs something to hold onto, some kind of bright spot in all of this. She’s a little kid, and little kids need to know that everything is going to be okay. Hell, even us adults need to know that from time to time. She’s been asking about her dad for a while; who he is, where he is, why hasn’t she met him? And she doesn’t just get on her mom about it. She’s asked me. More than once.”

“She’s asked me several times,” Alcott admits. “She even once asked if I was her dad. I said to look at me and look at herself in the mirror. That alone should tell her I’m not the one that put the bun in her mother’s oven.”

“I just think that this is something that could undo some of the damage done this morning,” Wick says. “We all see how much she adores you. And vice versa. If she’s already head over heels and doesn’t know, imagine how she’ll be when she finds out. And I just can’t help but believe it’s better if you do it sooner than later.”

“Listen to him,” Alcott addresses Tyler. “That’s a man that knows what he’s talking about.”

“Ten minutes ago, you were worried he was going to get you killed out on the street. Now you’re kissing his ass?”

“We’re on the same page. Both of us feel it’s best for Millie if…”

“What do you either of you know what’s best for Millie? For MY daughter? She doesn’t belong to either of you.”

“Maybe not, but we’ve known her longer,” Alcott points out. “As much as I’m sure that hurts to hear.”

“Not my most favourite thing to think about, no.”

“The truth is, we’ve been in her life from the start,” Wick says. “When she was still inside her mother’s belly. Both of us have changed her diapers, fed her bottles, read her bedtime stories, tucked her in…”

“She’s puked on me more times than I care to remember,” Alcott adds. “And believe me, her mother will eventually get my cleaning bill.”

“Why would you think I want to hear this? You’re not making things any better, mate. I’m already pissed off enough. Bringing things like THAT up? Are you trying to get her ass handed to you or…”

“No one is trying to rub salt in the wound,” Alcott assures him. “But the fact of the matter is that we do know Millie better than you do. For now, anyway. I mean, I let her call me Uncle Duey, for fuck sake.”

Wick swigs his bourbon. “I’m Uncle John-John. Killer by night, Uncle John-John by day. My, how the mighty have fallen.”

“She’s a damn good kid,” Alcott continues. “Her mother has done an amazing job with her. And you should consider yourself lucky; you didn’t manage to knock up someone who would have gotten rid of your spawn the second they found out about it. This isn’t exactly the life we strive to bring kids into, is it? Give them dads who kill people for money?”

Tyler frowns; brow furrowed as he drums his fingertips against his glass. “That’s not all we do.”

“Aww mate…” Alcott chuckles and slaps a hand down onto his shoulder. “...don’t sugar coat it. Don’t romanticize it. That’s EXACTLY what we do. And one day, that little girl is going to grow up and she’s going to find out what her daddy really does for a living and…”

“What I DID for a living,” Tyler corrects him. “Past tense. By the time she’s old enough to understand it, I’ll have been out of the game for a few years.”

Alcott waves down the bartender. “The fact of the matter is that she WILL find out. Right now, you’re just the cool friend of her mother’s who can kick ass and take names. That’s how she sees it; you’re big and you’re strong and you’re here to keep her safe from the bad guys. But once she’s older…”

“I just think it’s better if she knows about you being about her dad before THAT happens,” Wick pipes up. “That’s my opinion. Take it with a grain of salt. But…”

“You must want her to know,” Alcott says. “That you’re her father. How could you NOT want her to know?”

“Of course I want her to know. You think I like this fucking game we’re playing with her? You think it doesn’t burn my ass every time she calls me by my first name? Or ‘this is my mum’s boyfriend. Do you really think it doesn’t bother me?”

“I think you’ve got a lot of anger stored up,” Wick says. “And I think the more you lie to Millie, the worse that anger is going to get and then you’re going to snap one day and say some shit you’ll regret. And then both her and her mother will be out of there.”

Grinning, Alcott nudges Wick with his elbow. “Now who’s the therapist?”

“I have my moments.”

Alcott addresses Tyler once more. “Isn’t five years enough? Wasn’t that enough time apart? Do you really want to let this shit fester and a year or two down the road, let it completely ruin things? For good?”

“That’s the last thing I want.”

“If Millie is anything like her mother…” The Brit tosses a wad of cash down on the bar when one of the tenders sets down a tray of shots. “...which we already know she is, she is going to be the type to hold one hell of a grudge when she’s older. So you can imagine what that’ll be like? If you keep up this bullshit? The more time that drags on, the more she’s going to resent both of you for not telling her the truth sooner. And the next thing you know, you gotta teenager who can’t stand being in the same room as you and would sooner spit in your face than look at you.”

Wick side-eyes him, then helps himself to a shot. “Are you SURE you don’t have kids?

“I don’t have kids. But I do have brothers and sisters. And I know how lies…even told with the best of intentions…can tear a family apart. Why would he want that to happen when he just got his family together?”

“HE is sitting right beside you,” Tyler reminds him. “HE can hear you.”

“Mate, in the long run, it’s your life. And from what I understand, that life has been quite shit the past few years. Now, you’ve managed to get her back; the woman that you love more than anything in this world. The person you’d gladly give up your own life for. Do you really want to hold onto this shit you’ve got bottled up and risk losing her? AGAIN?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the reason Esme left.”

“You were and you weren’t. You didn’t do anything wrong. We all know that. But she did leave BECAUSE of you. To protect you. And I’m not going to judge that decision and we’re not going to debate whether she was right or wrong. And I’m certainly not going to pretend I understand anything about the situation she was put in…”

“But…”

“Enough lies have been told. Enough secrets have been kept. I think it’s high time that all of that shit stops. For you, for her, for Millie. For all of you as a family. You’re that little girl’s father. Whether you’re ready to be it or not.”

“I was ready to be ‘it’ the second I saw her and knew she was mine.”

“Then do your first good thing as a dad, and don’t lie to her. No more than you already have. She’s smart and she’s resilient and doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body. Not yet. But the older she gets…”

“What we’re trying to say is that you’re going to just fuck things up more,” Wick says. “Or at least that’s what I’M trying to say. I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about half the time.”

“I was ready to tell Millie the first day. That I was her dad. But it’s not my decision to make. It’s not…”

“Not alone, it isn’t,” Alcott downs his shot and the winces at the immediate burn. “But it’s half yours. Now I know it’s been a while since I’ve indulged in any extracurricular activities of the sort, but I’m pretty sure it takes two people to make a baby. Unless times and technology have changed since the last time I…”

Wick frowns. “Jesus, how long has it been?”

“Way too long, mate. Way too damn long.”

“But aren’t you…you know…with his ex-wife?”

“On and off. And without giving too much away and completely disrespecting her, I’m sure the big-headed, big-eared Australian and I can agree on the fact that she isn’t the most…what’s the word… affectionate…of people.”

“It’s like fucking a couch,” Tyler grumbles as he slides off his bar stool, then pulls his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Three or four times every six months.”

Alcott smirks. “Now THAT’S not nice. It’s true, but it’s NOT nice. At all.”

Wick nods in the Australian’s direction. “Where are you going?”

Tyler tosses a handful of bills down onto the top of the bar. “I’m not going to name names, but unlike certain individuals, I have a woman to get back to.”

“That’s right,” Alcott scoffs. “Just rub it in, you prick.”

“I’ll be rubbing it in while you’re rubbing it out.”

“You know, it’s moments like these where I don’t like you very much. Are you the one still holding a grudge? Because I drank all your milk?”

“You’re just damn lucky I hit that coffee cup. ‘Cause the meds had me pretty shaky that day. Be glad you still have your hand. Is that your favourite one? The one gets the most use?”

“I really do hate you sometimes, you know that, yeah?”

“You’d miss me, though. If I wasn’t around anymore.”

“In your wildest and wettest.”

“Last thing I want to do is sit around here, watching you two get shit-faced. Not when I’ve got a warm body waiting for me.”

“I don’t know what she sees in you. You’re certainly not the best catch on the planet. Not even close to it. She can definitely do better.”

“It’s okay to be jealous, mate.” He clamps both hands down on Alcott’s shoulders.. “ Especially when you’re not even on her short OR long list.”

“Now that’s just rude. Those are just fighting words. Give her a kiss, would ya? From both of us.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Wick grumbles. “I prefer all my limbs attached to my body.”

“Get your beauty sleep, Australian,” Alcott calls to him as he heads through the room. “Good knows you need about ten years of it to look good even in your mother’s eyes.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s okay. Your mother thinks I’m perfect just the way I am.”

“You fucking asshole. You regular fucking muppet. I oughta come over there and rearrange your ugly face.”

Chuckling, Tyler steps out of the bar. “I’d like to see you try.”

******

He’s rougher than he needs to be. Using his considerable size and strength difference to punish her; able to convincingly hide the hurt, anger and bitterness under layers of voracious want and need. And she willingly takes everything he dishes out; her body eagerly responding to the tight grip around her throat, the yanking of her hair, and the brutally hard thrusts that have her crying out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

It had always been her favourite; that tiny body able to withstand enormous amounts of torment in the name of sexual gratification. Something he’d both discovered and marvelled at five years ago; amazed at not only the things she allowed him to do but so openly -and boldly- requested of him. And it remains all this time later, despite their absence from each other’s lives; the awe and the adoration and that powerful, all-consuming mixture of lust and love that nothing -or no one- else could ever come close to measuring up to.

The self-loathing makes a quick appearance; feeling the utmost disgust in himself as he lays in bed beside her. Listening to her soft rhythmic breathing as she sleeps soundly; her back presented to him, yet her head resting in the crook of his elbow, those long, dark tresses fanned out across his arm and the sheets below. He hates himself; for both manhandling her and continuing to harbour such resentment. And while it will be ever strong enough to undo the love and the adoration and pure, unadulterated worship that he’s carried for years, it is enough to slightly tarnish them. To make him feel sick to his stomach and despise himself for ever thinking such negative and hateful ways towards her.

Sighing heavily, he drapes a forearm across his brow and takes in slow, deep breaths; a somewhat successful attempt to chase away the ugliness that festers inside his brain. His own body bearing the effects of just how rough and unhinged things had been between them just two short hours before; deep and painful fingernail trails that crisscross his back and his ribs, bite marks that decorate his collarbone, shoulders, and even the inside of his thighs, a tingling scalp where having his hair twisted and yanked. Incredibly enjoyable at the time; her enthusiasm and her ability to ‘dish it out’ encouraging his intensity even more. But now he feels like shit; the conversations in the bar replaying in his head and his anger -towards both her and the situation that had seen her make the decisions she had- simmering just below the surface.

He’s teetering on the edge of sleep when he feels her stir; the slight shifting of the mattress under her tiny body, the absence of the weight of her head upon his arm as she changes positions. Rolling over under her side and sliding closer to him; a hand coming to rest on his stomach as she nuzzles his ear with the tip of her before pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“Why are you awake?”

He lays a palm on the back of her head; fingertips pushing through her hair to lightly and affectionately knead at her scalp. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”

“I had the weirdest yet mostly satisfying dream. About taking you and Millie to Colorado to meet the fam. My mom picked us up at the airport, called you Crocodile Dundee and insulted your haircut.”

“That’s oddly specific. What happened next?”

“You gave her very detailed instructions on how to fuck off and stay fucked off. I didn’t get right to the end, but I like to think you wrapped things up by slapping the shit out of her.”

“I don’t hit women.”

“Never? Ever? You’ve never hit a woman?”

“What kind of asshole do you think I am?”

“I don’t mean in your personal life. I know you’re not the type. I mean on the job. You’ve never had to resort to it?”

“Just once.”

“Was she a mark or…?”

“Another merc. Working FOR the mark. We got into it. Blood was shed. Only one of us walked away.”

“Well, I obviously don’t need to ask WHO.”

“Yaz got his ass handed to him by one. In Vienna. She absolutely wrecked him. And he’s tough; for such a small guy. But believe me; he couldn’t walk or piss right for a month afterwards.”

“You like to keep up with your friends’ urinating habits, do you?”

“Anyone ever tell you? That you’re a smart ass?”

“You used to tell me ALL the time. Makes me happy to hear it again; means we're getting back to the basics. The good ol’ days. And as for your future monster in law…”

He arches a brow.

“You wouldn’t even backhand her in dreamland? The Wicked Witch of the Midwest? The one who said you kidnapped her only girl and…I quote…’kept her captive in your den of blood and danger and kinky sex’?”

“I mean, she WAS right. About the sex thing.”

“She also called you Ty.”

“Now THAT’S a fighting word. Because of that? I suppose I could make an exception. Knock her out.”

“And here I was, thinking the selling point would be the decades spent making my life a living hell. I thought for sure you’d want to defend my honour. Seriously though…” She lightly runs her fingernails across his stomach. “....why ARE you awake?”

“It’s two thirty in the morning. Why are YOU so chatty?”

“It’s a gift. Answer my question.”

“I’ve always had trouble sleeping. Even back in Dhaka. And especially when we were living together. Come to think of it, I’m starting to see a pattern. The one thing all these places have in common.”

“Maybe it’s better you don’t sleep. Because I might kill you. Smother you with your pillow.”

Chuckling, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her tightly into his side. Lips meeting her brow before resting his chin on the top of her head. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“When it comes to the job?”

“Are we even calling it that anymore?”

“I mean, you WERE hired. You did show up. And you ARE doing what I employed you for.”

“But? I sense a ‘but’ coming on.”

“Well, there’s nothing really ‘normal’ about it. And Millie and I are definitely not ‘normal’ customers.”

“Everything about this is as far from normal as you can get. It’s personal. Way too close to home. I’m never THIS attached to who I’m looking out for.”

“You looked out for Mia’s sister and her kids. That’s pretty personal.”

“She was my ex-sister-in-law. And it was a job out of pure fucking guilt. Because I felt I owed it to Mia. After everything I had done to hurt her, I figured it was the least I could do.”

“What if you’d died doing it? Was giving up your life the ‘least’ of it, or…”

“At that time? Without you around? I didn’t give a fuck if I was alive or dead. So it wouldn’t have mattered much.”

“It would have mattered to me; if Nik or Yaz or even Alcott got a hold of me and said something happened to you. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that. The fact that I never got to say I was sorry or tell you that I still loved you or to bring Millie to you. So for what it’s worth, I’m glad that never happened. Because I may not have been in the picture, but I would have missed you for the rest of my life.”

Emotion chokes at him, and he places a hand on her hip and gives a tight, affectionate squeeze.

“I was going to come and see you. In Austria. At the prison.”

“Alcott told you I was there?”

Esme nods.

“Why didn’t you show up?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I guess I was scared. About how you’d react. It had been almost three years since I’d just disappeared. And you would have had every right to be pissed off enough to have me thrown out of there.”

“I was never THAT pissed off.”

“I also didn’t want it to happen there; the first time we saw each other again. Not exactly the ideal place for a reunion. I don’t think you would have wanted to find out about Millie while you were locked up. Me showing up would have been enough of a shock, never mind THAT.”

“It would have been a hell of a surprise. But I wouldn’t have been pissed off. I would have been relieved more than anything; to see that you were okay and to know that you even gave a shit what was going on with me.”

“I never stopped ‘giving a shit’ about you, Tyler. I worried about you all the time; practically every second of every day. But had I shown up there…”

“You could have been convinced to be a repeat visitor. I could have talked my way into conjugal visits.”

“I probably would have gone along with it. I bet you looked hot in that orange jumpsuit.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you.”

He remains quiet for several minutes, knuckles repeatedly grazing up and down and her spine, her nose pressed against the side of his neck.

“I wrote to you,” she confesses. “Every week for about a year.”

He frowns. “I never got anything.”

“I never sent any of the letters. I just sat down and poured my heart out and then got cold feet about mailing them. So I just put them in a box and tucked them away. They’re actually still in the back of my closet.”

“You kept them all this time?”

“Everything I wish I’d said and everything I should have done differently is in those letters. Even every apology I wish I’d made. There was always unfinished business. An open chapter. And if I got rid of the letters, it meant I was also getting rid of you. And I know I left, and it seemed like I didn’t want you anymore, but I wasn’t ready for it…for US…to be done. I don’t think I ever would have been.”

“Come here,” he beckons and wraps her in both of his arms; enjoying the scent that clings to skin and hair and the warmth that radiates from her naked body.

God, he’d missed it. He’d missed HER. The touch of her hands and the taste of her kiss. The sound of her voice and her laugh. And that smile that’s reserved solely for him; curving her lips and further softening her features and causing her eyes to sparkle and dance. And for several minutes, they lay in silence; the tension and the sadness eased by the familiar weight of her head upon his chest as a large, callused palm continuously strokes her hair.

“Maybe one day you’ll let me read them. You might have chickened out sending them when you wrote them, but…”

“Whenever you’re ready to see them, they’ll be there. And I think it might be good for both of us; if you look at them. Kinda like shutting the door on that part of our lives. Permanently.”

“I don’t think I’m ready right now. I don’t think I’m quite there yet.”

“Take your time. They’re not going anywhere. There’s no rush. I know there’s a lot going on right now; I’ve dumped enough on you in the past four days to last a lifetime. And I never intended to. I never…”

“You haven’t ‘dumped’ anything on me. Using that word makes it something there’s been nothing good. And believe me, Millie is worth more than any of the bad shit. I’d take a bullet to the neck a thousand times over if it meant she’d exist.”

“I just wish things had been different. When it comes to how I handled things. I had the best of intentions. I REALLY did. I panicked; I knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against The High Table, and I had to protect you. If anything had happened to you…”

“I can wrap my head around THAT. What I can’t get past is afterwards. When things went back to normal and they weren’t a threat anymore. That’s what I’m having a hard time getting past.”

“I already explained. I already…”

“I don’t want to be angry.”

“At me?”

He nods.

“You have every right to be, Tyler. I did a horrible thing to you. More than one, actually. And I can justify leaving; I feel I did the right thing when it came to protecting you. But staying under the radar for years and not telling you about Millie…”

“It’s the entire situation I want to be angry at. That I NEED to be angry at. If The High Table never showed up, everything else wouldn’t have happened. You didn’t know they were going to come for you. You thought you were in the free and clear and done with them. And when they came looking for you, you weren’t given much of a choice. It’s them I should be pissed with. Not you.”

“But…”

Firmly gripping the back of her head, he presses a kiss to her temple and then begins to uncoil her from his embrace; hating the absence of contact when he sits up against and leans against the headboard. One leg bent at the knee, he sighs heavily and rakes a hand through his hair and then runs both palms over his weary face.

“Do you think we can actually TALK about this? Without hurting feelings?”

Gathering the quilt around her naked body, Esme sits up as well. “I think feelings are already hurt, don’t you?”

“Without hurting them even more, then? Because I don’t want to fight, Esme. That’s the last thing I want. There’s enough bullshit going on without adding that to the list.”

“I don’t want that either. And I don’t want to fight about this, especially. But if talking is what you want to do…”

“Like rational, reasonable adults.”

She nods in agreement.

“First thing’s first. I need to ask you something. And you gotta promise me it won’t piss you off.”

“How bad is what you’re going to ask that you need a promise like that?”

“It’s not that it’s bad. It’s just…I don’t know…you might think I’m stupid for even thinking about it, let alone asking.”

“And you accuse me of being that one that talks in riddles? What…?”

“Did you and Alcott have something going?”

She can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“Did you ever have anything going with him? Relationship wise?”

“No. No. Omg, no. Never.”

“I mean, a relationship of ANY kind. Maybe you never boyfriend and girlfriend thing, but…”

“There’s no ‘but’. There has NEVER been anything between us other than friendship.”

“Did he ever want there to be?”

“Not that he’s ever told me. Or acted on. Colleagues and buddies, that’s it.”

“What about you? Anything YOU wanted? Or acted on? Or…”

“Tyler, men and women ARE capable of being just friends.”

“You and I weren’t.”

“You and I are in an entirely different league. We always have been. From pretty much the second we met. You never denied it; feeling ‘something’ right away.”

“Lust. It’s called lust. You know how there’s ‘love at first sight’? Well, that was lust at first sight.”

“Yeah, there was a lot of lust. But it was more than that and you know it.”

“Did you feel anything like that for him or…?”

“I have never felt anything for Russell. Other than platonic love. And maybe wanting to smack the shit out of him from time to time.”

Tyler smirks. “Russell. That’s kinda personal, don’t you think?”

“It’s his first name. What else am I supposed to call him?”

“Everyone calls him Alcott. EVERYONE.”

“Probably because they don’t know his actual name IS Russell. I like to call people by their first names. Especially my friends. You’ve always been a little uptight about these kinds of things; you’ve always hated the idea of anyone else being in my life. You don’t even like the fact I was married before we met.”

“What I hate is WHO you were married to. And the shit he did. That’s what I hate.”

“Admit it, you can’t handle the thought of me with anyone else. I bet you stressed about it constantly during the last five years.”

“No.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“Sometimes.”

“I have a history. I have exes. So do you. You were married before me. You don’t see me obsessing over it. I mean, I don’t particularly like the idea of hearing about your slutty bachelor days, but I realize back then you had commitment issues. You’re a red-blooded male with needs and…”

“And you’re a red-blooded female. With needs.”

“Needs I was more than happy to tend to on my own. You’re the type that prefers having a participant with those things. Me…”

“I am more than capable of handling things on my own. Figuratively AND literally…”

“...I don’t need sex. I have gone YEARS without it. I’m capable of surviving without it.”

“That makes me feel great. Thanks for that.”

“If it’s already not glaringly obvious, I enjoy sex with you. I love having it with you. I could have sex with you all day, every day. For the rest of my life. But the fact is, I never gave a shit about it until YOU. It wasn’t a necessity. I’d never been with someone who could get the job done, know what I mean? I always relied on myself for getting there.”

“You have dated some real fucking winners, haven’t you.”

“I may not need sex, but I WANT sex. And I want it with you. Only you. No one else. And seeing as we haven’t seen each other in five years…”

“What about Alessio? You slept with him. You were going to marry the guy.”

“This isn’t about Alessio. Who was a job.”

“I’ve never had a job that required me to fuck someone.”

“I was his fiancee. I was playing a part. If I didn’t do THAT? He would have known something was up. And maybe it was drastic; going to those extremes. But I did. I allowed myself to feel beautiful. And wanted.”

“I wanted you.”

“And I fucked that up. I know that. But other than him? And this playing pretend? There’s never been anyone else. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone but you. And I tried. Not the sex thing, but the dating and the relationship stuff. I met people. Men, women. I went out a few times. And you know what? Every time they tried to take things further? All I did was compare them to you.”

Tyler blinks at her honesty.

“I have never wanted anyone else. I’m not afraid to admit that. And there’s never been a damn thing between Russell and I. He kept me updated on things you were doing; he contacted me about Georgia and Mia and her sister and all of that. And told me about you going to prison. Other than Millie, he was the strongest connection I had to you.”

“And Nik. And Yaz. All these people that knew you were okay.”

“All people I swore to secrecy and hated every second of it. They didn’t want to lie to you. I especially didn’t want to. And I don’t get your hang-up with Russell and me. You don’t ever question my friendship with Yaz.”

“That’s because he’s Yaz. He may have a huge hard-on for you…”

“He has a hard-on for me? What? He told you that?”

“...but I know you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Not like that. I know you see him like a little brother. But Alcott..”

“It’s because Alcott’s like you, right? He reminds you of yourself. And because I lusted you immediately and fell in love with you so quickly, it must mean it happened with him too.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know why it bothers me. How close the two of you are.”

“All I can do is tell you the truth. And reassure you. As many times as you need it. There has never been anything between us. On either of our parts. Nothing has even come remotely close to crossing a line. I know I hurt you and I betrayed you and you don’t exactly trust me right now…”

“I trust you. With my life. With my daughter’s life.” ‘ “...but I wouldn’t lie about this. I don’t see him in that way. I don’t see anyone in that way. It’s just you, Tyler. That I’ve wanted. It’s always been you. It will always be ONLY you.”

“You’d tell me, yeah? If there’d been anyone else? During the last five years? OTHER than that dick head, Alessio.”

“You were honest with me; about sowing your wild oats all over Australia and many parts of Europe. Why would I not tell you the truth? There hasn’t been anyone else. And there especially hasn’t been anything with Alcott. And there never will be.”

He nods slowly as he considers her words.

“On a side note, he’s banging your ex-wife, you know.”

“I don’t care what he’s doing to my ex. She’s my ex for a reason. She stopped being any of my concern a long time ago.”

“You were concerned enough to help her. To take the job. Put your life on the line to get her sister and her kids the hell out of Georgia.”

“It was a job. I was being paid.”

“Maybe. But there’s a history there. You were married to the woman. You had a child with her. I know the kind of guilt and regret you carry around. You can’t tell me those didn’t play a part.”

“How did we go from talking about us to talking about her? How…?”

“You want to talk. So let’s talk. Let’s get it all out there. Say the things we need to say. You’re not the only one who’s been holding onto some shit.”

“And now who’s worried about someone else’s history?”

“I don’t care about your history. I care about YOU. And when I heard about that job…”

“You left. I wasn’t the one who took off. You were. So I stopped being of any concern to you. Second you walk out that door…”

“No. It never stopped. I never stopped worrying about you. I didn’t leave because of something you did. Or didn’t do. I never took off because I didn’t love you. I took off because I did.”

“You know how you always say ‘opposites attract’? When it comes to us? Maybe most of the time, that’s true. But it’s not with this. You left, Esme. You left ME. Just like I left my boy. So we have THAT in common, don’t we.”

“I never blamed you for leaving your son. I said it was a stupid thing to do. I still think it was. But I also told you I understood why you did it. I sympathized with you. I still do. It was a horrible, horrible thing to go through; seeing your child sick and wasting away. And you’d never been taught coping skills and you had all that toxic masculinity and you…”

“Why did you leave?”

“I told you. I left to protect you”

“We could have found a way. To fight back. So tell me, why didn’t you stay?”

“I was scared and I was worried and I didn’t want anything to happen to you. I…”

“Esme…” His voice becomes more forceful. Demanding. “Why didn’t you stay?”

“Because I fucked up. Because I brought them to you. And I didn’t know what else to do. So I left. Because I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Silence descends on the room. An eerily still quiet that remains until she sniffles loudly; wiping at errant tears with the back of her hand.

“I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t fucking fix it”

“Why do you think I left my boy?”

“It’s not the same thing. It’s not…”

“It is. It IS the same thing. We left for the same reasons. And what happened because of it? We took off. And we hurt the only person that ever really gave a fuck about us.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t know how to get away from them. I didn’t want them coming back. Not when you were there. I didn’t want them hurting you. Or worse.”

“We would have had time. To get the fuck out of there. We could have found a place to hide out. We could have flown under the radar and let Nik and John and even Alcott deal with The High Table. You didn’t have to leave.”

“I didn’t think of that. I was scared. You were still healing from Dhaka. And even if you’d been a hundred percent, you’re not invincible. You wouldn’t have beaten them, Tyler. Not on your own. Not even with a small army. They would have found us. No matter where we were hiding.”

“Don’t underestimate Nik. She would have put us far underground. No one would have been able to track us.”

“I didn’t even consider it. It didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Like you said; you were scared and you were worried. Kinda hard to think right under those circumstances. But Nik? She has no excuse for not coming up with a solution like that.”

“I’m sorry, Tyler. That I didn’t think of those. That I didn’t stay. I wanted to. I wanted to be with you. I never wanted to leave.”

Reaching out, calloused fingertips push strands of hair off her forehead and tuck others behind her ears. “I know you didn’t.”

“We both fucked up. In the past. Only my fuck up lasted five years. And I not only hurt you, but I hurt Millie, too.”

“You didn’t hurt her. Not in the slightest.”

“I kept her away from her dad. For selfish fucking reasons. All because I was worried about rejection. Because I was scared you’d turn me away. That you’d turn US away.”

“I wouldn’t have. I’ve spent the last five years wondering where you were. HOW you were. Wanting you.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“No. You’re not. You’re a good person who made a bad decision.”

“I remember saying those exact words to you. In Dhaka.”

“And you didn’t hurt Millie. Look how amazing she is. She’s healthy and happy and she’s so fucking smart, Me. And she’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she’s everything that’s great inside both of us all into one. You didn’t hurt her. And you definitely didn’t fail her. You’ve done an awesome job with her. And I’m lucky. Of all the people that are the mother to my kid, it’s you. Because a lot of other women never would have gone through with having her.”

“There was no way I was giving her up. Not while I was pregnant and definitely not after. And I needed to hear that from you. That I haven’t fucked her up. That I’ve done good with her. And BY her.”

“You’ve done more than good, believe me.”

“I am so sorry. That I screwed up so badly. That I left instead of trying to fix things. I really did do it because I didn’t think I had another choice. Because I was scared and worried and wanted to keep you safe.”

“I can accept that. I HAVE accepted it. But when everything was gone and you still stayed away? That’s what I’m having a hard time with. That I just can’t get past. And I want to; get past it.”

“Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I need to say. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to make this better. To make it right.”

“There’s nothing you can say. Or do. You’ve already done it all. It’s just me. It’s me needing time to process and accept it and move on from it.”

“So what does that mean for us? You don’t want there to be an us? Until you’ve done all that?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. At all. Of course, I want there to be an us. Did you not ask me to marry you?”

“Not in so many words, but…”

“And did I not say okay?”

She nods.

“I want you. I want US. I want to raise our daughter together. I want to get married and have more kids. I mean, if that’s what you want. More.”

She manages a weak, shaly smile. “A couple more wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’m actually looking forward to; finding out we’re having another one and seeing you pregnant. That’s one of the things I AM pissed about; that I didn’t get to see you like that. All cute and round, and the baby…MY baby…just growing and thriving in there.”

“I carried HUGE with Milile. People were always asking if there was more than one because of just how huge I was. I told them, ‘This is what happens when you procreate with a giant.’”

“I hope you know I’m going to be one of those insanely protective dads-to-be.”

“More protective than you already are with me? Is that even possible?”

“Don’t challenge me, Esme. You’d be surprised how far I can go with it. And I’ll deal with my shit; all the issues I’ve got going on because of what happened. But I’ll do it WHILE we’re together. I’m not worried about that; it causing problems between us or with our family. I just thought you needed to know that I AM still struggling with all of this; you staying away and keeping Millie from me. And I don’t know how long I’ll actually fight with it, but I will get over it. Eventually.”

“And you’ll still love me? Even when things seem extra hard?”

“I love you no matter what. I never stopped. Not once in those five years. I’ve always loved you. I always will.”

As he leans in to peck his lips, her fingers aggressively push through his hair. A long, trembling sigh escaping her when the hand on the nape of her neck tightens its grip; holding her firmly against him as he prolongs and deepens the kiss. Long, sinuous movements of lips and tongue, accompanied by naked limbs that glide and rub against each other as they once more sprawl out across the bed. And when air becomes a necessity, he pulls away and braces himself on both arms above her; a smile curving her lips as she reaches up to trace the line of his jaw.

“Can I ask YOU something now?”

“As long it’s not about my ex-wife, what happened between you and me five years ago, or what’s going to happen in less thirty-six hours.”

“It’s not about any of those things.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“Is it true? That Yaz has a hard-on for me?”

Chuckling, Tyler leans down and nips at the side of her neck. “You’re a brat.”

“Did he actually tell you that? That he’s packing a woody for me?”

“I can’t give away all his secrets. I’ve said enough.”

“Did you threaten to rip from limb to limb if he even tried anything?”

“No.” He presses a series of warm, soft kisses across her collarbone, his beard scraping the pale, delicate skin. “I told him YOU would.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fan fic #Extraction fan fiction #Extraction/John Wick cross over #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Rake Lives #Esme Drummond #Esme Rake

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

You're killin' me!

Quick summary: Phantom and Maverick have had their fair share of head-butting – competition, ego and feelings don't mix well, apparently. Finally, however, they seem to reach a peace after a day on the beach.

Word count: 3K (getting into writing these shorter fits woo!)

Warnings: Kind of angsty but also you make out so like is it really that bad; allusions to smut; lots of swear words; yeah, not much for this, it's pretty PG.

A/N: YAYYY, I'm back, sort of but also not really but also ENJOY THIS FIC. Yes, technically it is an extract from an unfinished chapter of the mav x reader Wattpad story I'm halfway through writing (yes, I have a wattpad, it's called nonoitsnina), and maybe (BIIIIG emphasis on MAYBE) I will do a second part where y'all actually fuck and stuff but for now just take this. If anyone's still slinking around the Top Gun stuff, that is. Also, Bee is your RIO here. Just to preface. And Phantom (YOUR CALL-SIGN) shortens to Tommy or Tom from time to time but like if you read the Wattpad book (YES I KNOW I SOUND LIKE A SCARY 14 YEAR OLD) it makes more sense. OKAY ENJOY COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED HAVE A LOVELY JUBBLY DAY

***

Stupid smiles plastered bright across their faces, Bee and Goose are already dashing down the road, speed-walking like a couple of suburban mothers, one swathed in a beach towel and picnic blanket, the other lopsided with a half-empty cooler grasped in one hand. 

I watch them go, brow furrowed, over my shoulder, slightly disconcerted. 

“I guess they—” Mav pauses, then huffs, equally as confused, “—really wanted those ice-creams.”

Sure. That’s why they keep glancing back at us and giggling like idiots: ice-creams. 

Maverick and I are strolling along the boardwalk back home – despite washing my feet at the tap, there’s still sand between my toes that tickles my skin with every step, but I could care less. He’d asked if I wanted us to take the bus—but I’d said no. Call me a loon (Bee certainly would), but, even after a full day of work—or play—nothing beats sitting outside in the quiet. Except sleep, I guess. But, when I can keep my eyes open, looking out a good view—and, boy, is this watercolour sunset some view—is perfect. After growing up in a city full of dust and cracks, I’ve embraced it: I’m gonna be one of those old ladies in a rocking chair on her porch, day and night, night and day.

Having just finished my own crêpe, I eat Maverick’s. When I ask him if he’s bothered by it, he tells me he’d bought them both for me in the first place. 

Sweet. Y’know, I really thought I was a good judge of character. I had to be, to be fair, growing up, pursuing this career – you must always assume the worst until proven otherwise. That’s the safe way, and it’s served me well. Until it had me screaming and yelling at everyone. That’s not—right. It makes me absolutely nauseous. 

So, all of these estimated traits, good and bad, have either been tossed or been filtered out.

It boils down to Maverick and his easy grin. He walks along the edge of the sidewalk, just looking at me with that goddamn easy grin. I’ve half a mind to slap him, just to give me a break from his attention. It makes me horribly self-conscious, forces a little thrill on me, like when you’re at the apex of a rollercoaster, just about to tip over. It feels like that, but it also feels like light streaming through a half-blinded window, so the warmth just collects there on the sill so that, when you touch it, you wish you could roll under it like a blanket. Of course, that warmth accumulates. I’m sweating. Like—a—pig. 

Jesus, I want to scream into my hands with how good he looks. His dark hair is still slightly damp with seawater, stiff in some places and criminally soft in others. Every now and then, he’ll pull at the white button-up that sticks just a little to his chest, to the contours of his stomach, and fan the skin there. Jesus Christ. My hands are basically twitching to touch him there, to feel the heat of him beneath my palm, solid and beating gently with his heartbeat. I clasp my fingers very tightly around my fork, my crêpe slip, concentrating it all into one point. 

I can’t tell if feeling like this is the best or the worst. Jesus, imagine if the other guys knew. They’d never shut up about it. Christ, they’d never take me seriously again. I don’t want to be the “girlfriend” – I want to be a formidable pilot. So many people just don’t think those two things can ever coexist. 

Not that I want to be a girlfriend. I couldn’t say that word out loud without feeling wrong. I’m a lot of things, but I don’t know if I could be that. 

A bike passes with an urgent ring of its bell, and Maverick twists his body in towards mine, hand hovering over my back, to push me out of the way from it. 

I go blank, scrambling to remember where we were in the conversation, mouth dry.

“So, you’re telling me,” I begin, grinning, “going into Return of the Jedi, you hoped that Luke and Leia would end up together?”

Mav sighs and rolls his eyes, tearing off a little of what remains of the crêpe. ‘Well, at the time, I didn’t know they we’re fuckin’ siblings—”

“Maverick, that is incest.”

“Come on!” he laughs, and it’s the best sound in the world. “Goose thought so, too! Luke’s the main guy, so, like, it’s not not logical to think he’d get the main girl, right—?”

“But it’s Han Solo!” I exclaim, throwing my head back with a snort. He smiles down at me, eyes warm, in a way that I’m probably misinterpreting and will replay over and over in my head when I’m trying to sleep in bed tonight. “I thought you’d be a Han Solo kind of guy.”

“What, I remind you of him?” He tosses his head back and smoulders. I fake a gag.

“Well, he’s just—he’s just—” I trail off into laughter. “He’s really—I can’t explain it! If you ask any girl, she’ll know what I mean. Han Solo is so—” I giggle again, remembering how stunned and attracted to him I was when I first watched A New Hope in the theatre. “He’s just a lot of things.”

“Oh, yeah?—like what?”

Gosh, I can feel myself burning up – does he have to lower his voice like that? Does he have to try and catch my eye? God, it’s almost easier to hate him, to be honest – at least then I wouldn’t be acting like such a puddle.

“Like, charming and daring and, um—and clever, and—I don’t know. It’s just the way he speaks or something.”

He hums, hands in his pockets, his dad’s jacket draped over his forearm – I don’t think I’ve seen him go anywhere without that leather jacket. “And you like those things?” he pushes.

I bark out a laugh. “C’mon, Maverick, everyone like those things.” True enough – I could be blind and still fall in love with Han Solo and his smooth-talking. “And why Luke? Even if they weren’t siblings, why him? He had zero chemistry with—”

“Because he’s the chosen one!”

“—yeah, well, he—”

“He’s cool! Luke is objectively cool. He’s a pilot, he’s a Jedi, he’s a leader, he’s—”

“What-ever!” I exclaim, scrunching up my nose at him, and we giggle into quiet. “I’m not saying I didn’t like him as a character – I think he’s an amazing character. I just wouldn’t fuck ‘im.” I cackle at the absurdity of it all.

We continue walking.

Maybe all of this will fade in a couple hours. Maybe it’s the magic of Top Gun, this beach, this dusk that settles in fast around us, the lights that illuminate the darkening boardwalk. It’ll all be over in a couple more weeks, anyway. Bee ‘n’ I’ll go back to the carrier and be on with things, and Maverick will do whatever it is that he does. I know Goose says we should make plans to meet after school’s out, but who really has the time to spare? So, thank God Mav didn’t ride in on his motorcycle, ‘cause, if he’d insisted I hop on and wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder and la-la-la, I’d be in great danger of sleeping with him.

“D’you wanna head straight back?”

I look up at him. “Hmm?”

Jesus, he needs to tone down his looks or something – it’s disarming, a hazard, really. Those green eyes are givin’ me some mean butterflies, alright. Nowadays, I’ll see him fresh out of the sky, hair spiky and dishevelled with sweat – he doesn’t wear helmet hair as well as others, that’s for certain – and I’ll have to bury my face in my locker. I’ll see him absentmindedly chewing on his dog-tags, and it’ll have me air-headed for the rest of a lecture. I can’t classify it as a distraction, but it’s—certainly not intended. My head isn’t screwed on so tight, and I can’t keep tipping up in the cockpit – I know my ambition to win and these thoughts about Maverick have no correlation, but, good God, maybe if I could just focus more in classes—

“There’s—” he starts, then swallows. “We could go to the pier. Not really a view anymore, but we could see some lights. Boats, maybe.”

“Yeah,” I reply, excitement jolting through my body.

“Yeah?” I nod. He smiles. “Okay.”

When he asks me if I’m cold, he readjusts his jacket on his arm, like he’s already made his mind up to lend it to me. Of course, I shake my head – I’d probably end up stinking up the damn thing with how much I seem to be sweatin’.

We take our time to the end of the pier. When we reach the railing, we step up onto the bar and lean out to look down at the softly lapping water.

“You—erm—”

I turn to look at him, and the stutter of his words stops abruptly, his eyes wide. He looks at me dumbly, like I’m one of the seven fuckin’ wonders. Now, I’ve seen Maverick drunk, stupid, and downright embarrassing himself—just think of the time she lost that fuckin’ lovin’ feeling—but, even when he doesn’t know something, he always keeps face. He always has something to say. Now?—now, here, he looks hopeless.

“You—”

“I what, Mitchell?” I grin, shoving my hair behind my ear in light of the strong breeze that suddenly billows in from across the sea. “Watching the ships, right?” There they are: little dots on the horizon.

He flushes, snapping his attention away. “Right.”

I know what’s coming – I pick up on all of it: the fidgeting of his hands, the downcast dart of his eyes, the way he bites down on the inside of his cheek. Though it kinda perks me up to begin with, I just end up wilting again at the reminder of a certain instructor who I am evidently not.

Still, it’s nice to hear him say: “It’s just—” I tilt my head towards him, “—I think you’ve got great eyes. Great everything really. I dunno. I think—you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

I snort. “That 4% really got to you, hey, Mav?”

He doesn’t laugh, just pauses, takes a second to think about what he’s going to say. “I—don’t know—how to say it.”

My heart drops—in the bad way. “What?"

“That I think about you—a lot.”

Oh, Christ. I let out a deep sigh, and, immediately, his face drops like a stone. “Oh, don’t do that, Maverick.”

“Do what?” he protests through a weak smile.

I recoil just a little bit: he’s a flirt, yes, but I didn’t take him for a dirtbag. “Do what?” my ass. He knows what. Blonde-hair-and-bright-eyes, who’s what. Think of how smart she is, how accomplished she is, how beautiful she is, how level and respected she is – all of these things and a man can still write Charlie of as not that big a deal? That’s fuckin’ low.

“You’re being mean,” I tell him firmly, trying to force down the disgust that pushes under my tongue and the embarrassment that burns over my cheeks.

Maybe Carole and Goose really weren’t exaggerating. Maybe he has got eight women all lined up for him, just waiting for him to call.

His hand makes to touch my shoulder but doesn’t end up making contact – it just hovers, unsure. Either way, I wasn’t going to let it happen. Either way, I find myself scurrying back, away.

Mav has the audacity to look confused. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to—”

“So, what?” I snap, hopping down from the railing and scowling unabashedly at him once more. “I’m one of those girls you string along?”

He laughs – only, it’s not cute anymore; it’s fucking annoying. “No—!”

The wind blows strongly, warm, still, but with the promise of a storm. I have to raise my voice in order to get myself across, I tell myself: “What?—you wanna challenge yourself, or something? Me and Charlie—?”

This?—this seems to piss him off. Mav’s expression crumples into indigence as he protests strongly again, “No—!"

“But—”

“Phantom,” he presses desperately, eyes pleading for me to listen – I’ve seen that expression on him before; every time I’ve ignored it, I’ve ended up regretting it, yelling myself silly over a misunderstanding. So, I pause. I listen. The urgent haze fades away within the span of three deep breaths.

“I wanted Charlie’s advice on how to speak to you. I was nervous—am nervous—and I don’t want to say the wrong thing. She’s very—to-the-point. And Goose and Bee fluff like their lives depend on it.”

Nice one. Nice going, Tommy: do what you do best and throw a fuckin’ rage, why don’t you?

“I thought you didn’t like me—” I say to him dumbly, “—after what I said to you.”

We don’t talk about that argument in the locker rom. We don’t talk about the one after volleyball either, or the one in the air. It’s no excuse – that Viper is breathing down my neck, that I know Skipper expects highly of me – to act like a dick to all the competitors that block my way to that damn trophy. I need to climb this hill.

And here Maverick is, thinking about me—a lot.

“Your opinion matters to me more than you’d think,” he admits with a snarky, little snort. “You’re—” he trails off; the gale dies down. “You’re just—I don’t know how to put it. I’m—not great at the serious-talking stuff.”

“Embarrassed?” I tease. God, I know I am.

He grins. “A little bit.”

We make our way back to the dorms, talking. He tells me he’s liked me ever since this one lecture at the beginning of Top Gun—after the induction, after the bar, after the first exercise—when he’d said something dumb in response to Charlie’s criticism. According to him: “You turned back and looked at me and—and you just smiled. God, I dunno – I just couldn’t look away from you. Even—even after you, y’know, y’turned back around, I—I was just staring at the back of your head, hoping you’d do it again. That you’d look at me again, smile at me again.”

I don’t even remember that day.

He walks me to the door of my dorm, where the windows are all dark and the blinds all flat shut.

No way to make it up to him. No time, either. Should’ve kissed him right then and there at the bar that first night when he came over to the jukebox. Bee saw it in my face – I know that now. I should’ve let him win that bet with himself.

I might be about to do him that favour now, I guess. All flushed, all pretty, all nervous—he gets nervous?—Maverick is so close to me that the heat of his body radiates onto mine, far too dangerous for my liking. This is not what I intended. This is so far off my plan of how this program was gonna go.

But his nose is brushing mine, and his hands are so warm and gentle as they press over my arms.

“Can—?”

I nod softly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

The kiss, when it comes, is this soft, tentative sink into a brittle release. The gentle press of his nose into my warm cheek elicits a quiet sigh from the both of us – the break from silence must render me into this here embarrassing mess, melting like the ice-cream we shared earlier in the hot sun, because Mav gets that shit-eating grin on his face like he’s watching me lose to him at volleyball all over again. Whatever – he’s the one that probably had to take a cold shower over how I looked.

I cup my hand over the back of his neck, drawing him closer still to me.

Maverick kisses like he’s paying attention to every single detail of it – his eyes are slanted just slightly open, watching my face, and one of his hands rests kindly over my neck, his fingers pressing just a little into the pulse point which I’m sure is racing like a damn horse by now.  

Of course, he’s beautiful at this. Just my fuckin’ luck. Technically, yes, it is prohibited to have sexual relations on work premises. Even a man and a woman behind a locked door is assumed to be inappropriate – I’ve heard that one too many a time by the air boss back on the carrier. I’m far from a goody-two-shoes, but rules are rules for a reason. So, of course, it’s just my luck that I meet an unfairly handsome pilot with pretty eyes and entirely too destabilising a kiss. He trails his nose down along my jaw before burying it there in my neck; I hold him tight to me, fingers curling around the thick muscle of his shoulders.

When we kiss again, it’s different: searing, crushing, slow, breathless. The chorus of crickets and cicadas and other night-things is drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears and the soft noise that slips past Mav’s lips as he pauses for breath, to pant hotly over my cheek.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here, stud,” I mumble helplessly against him, to which he nods fiercely, reaching out blind for the door-knob and guiding me stumbling into my room.

Bee isn’t here – upon the side table, there’s a little, folded note that reads in chicken-scratch handwriting: Staying with Goose for the night. Have fun!

#pete mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete mitchell #top gun #top gun maverick #goose bradshaw #tom cruise x reader #im back on my bullshit #i feel the need for speed #i need him in me

[weast-of-eden]

it seems like some people actually liked my last fic rec, so here's another one, guys! this time i tried finding some fics that were a little different, like AUs, different POVs, rarepairs, WIPs, etc. again, these are pretty all set in canonverse (ACD or Granada) or victorian era unless specified otherwise. so without further ado, here is:

Eden’s ACD/Granada Unique Fic Recommendations

And With Him Disaster by eggshellseas (@/maxwelljacobfriedman on tumblr) 14k | Rated E Summary: John Watson is being stalked by a vampire. Notes: not-your-mother's vampire au, that's for sure. definitely read the tags before getting into this but man, this fic is so, so good. features not only vampire!holmes but also dark!holmes and it's a ride from beginning to end. ugh i want to talk more about this fic but i can't spoil anything!!

Into darkness then without a candle by Solshine (@/thehumantrampoline on tumblr) 10k | Rated T Summary: At first, Moriarty is just a disguise, like all the rest in his wardrobe; a helpful alias to bring Holmes closer to the evils he duels. And then the disguise wins at the Reichenbach Falls. AU inspired by the stage play, “The Secret of Sherlock Holmes." Notes: i can't even get into this. I CAN'T EVEN GET INTO THISSSS. there are no words. if there were, the word would be: UGH. this is such a unique fic and watson really pulls through in this. I CAN'T EVEN GET INTO THIS RIGHT NOW.

Back to Edinburgh by mightymads 4k | Rated T Summary: The Jezail bullet in Watson’s leg causes him so much pain that he is on the verge of despair. London doctors deem it impossible to extract the bullet without inevitable nerve damage. Holmes finds a surgeon in Edinburgh, who agrees to help. It is none other than Professor Joseph Bell. Notes: Dr. Bell says 'gay rights'! also Scottish Watson for the win! this is such a beautiful story, Watson really gets to take the center stage while Holmes gets to worry for his well-being. oh how the tables have turned. plus lots of ACD's personal life mixed with Watson's own, which I think makes this such a unique fic. it's just really nice to read. *chef's kiss*

The Red Notebook by Garonne 10k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is dead, or seems to be. Watson starts to write, and Mycroft starts to read. Holmes/Watson slash set during the Hiatus. Mycroft's POV. Notes: i LOVE Mycroft POVs, and this is one of my favorites. also i love fics that depict watson's stories as completely false, like Moriarty is not real and 'The Final Problem' was just john's way of coping. STELLAR FIC.

Some Power of Selection by wordybirdy 12k | Rated E Summary: John Watson is a struggling doctor in recent practice on London's Upper Wimpole Street. One dreary Wednesday, an urgent telegram summons him to 221B Baker Street, where he meets a sombre and initially taciturn gentleman by the name of Sherlock Holmes. Sparks immediately fly – but not of the positive, life-affirming variety... Notes: enemies to lovers AU for the win! Stamford is such a knob in this one, truly. but that's okay, our heroes figure themselves out anyways. great banter in this one, if you like rom-coms then this is the fic for you!

One Page Is Missing by PlaidAdder 2k | Rated T Summary: "From this point onward I will follow the course of events by transcribing my own letters to Mr. Sherlock Holmes which lie before me on the table. One page is missing, but otherwise they are exactly as written and show my feelings and suspicions of the moment more accurately than my memory, clear as it is upon these tragic events, can possibly do." --The Hound of the Baskervilles, Chapter 8 **** This is the missing page. Notes: ok first of all you should read all of PlaidAdder’s Missing Pages series, it’s so beautifully written. this is the first of the series and the premise is so interesting and mysterious! this fic is for any fans of HOUN (me) or enjoyers of jealous Holmes (also me)

On the Orbits of Asteroids by Sheila_Snow 22k | Rated E Summary: Watson has a secret from his past that he's kept from Holmes, but the past has a tendency to come back and haunt you. Notes: Watson/Moriarty fic. yes you read that correctly and YES it's crazy good. there's still holmes/watson but it's angsty and– i can't even get into it, you just gotta read for yourself. also feat. Moran who is currently questioning his sexuality (yeah watson will do that to you mate)

The Better Part of Valour by rachelindeed 7k | Rated T Summary: Mr Melas considers himself a coward, but more than one man's courage comes with complicated cracks. Notes: for any fans of 'The Greek Interpreter' (aka ME) this fic is the coolest ever. POV from Melas, who is smart, witty, and very observant. you get to meet Paul Kratides when he's not in the middle of being tortured, plus the ANGSTIEST background story about Watson's war injury. Oof. But I literally love this fic guys pwease read it

☆The Adventure of the Purloined Heart by ladyblahblah (@/hungrylikethewolfie on tumblr) 15k | Rated M Summary: A gruesome murder unveils secrets kept buried for years. Some feelings can only be hidden for so long. Notes: This fic checks every single box for me. HOLY SHIT. It's got murder, mystery, intrigue; it's got pining, secrets, and unrequited (?) love. I think the reason I'm so unwell about this fic is because it's a WIP that ends on a doozy of a cliffhanger. if god loves me he will let this fic be finished one day. IT'S SO GOOD GUYS PLEASE READ THIS FIC. in my ao3 history is says 'visited 12 times in the past month.' what is wrong with me

i hope someone out there enjoys these! also i was going to tag the authors whose tumblrs i knew, but then i chickened out, so... sue me i guess?

also if there’s any AUs, tropes, or somesuch fics you wish existed but can’t find, feel free to ask me!! maybe i’ve read something you’re looking for :)

#sorry if i got a little wonky at the end #but that last fic is literally my bible #ngl i kinda gave y'all the goods on this one these are all soooo good #sherlock holmes #acd holmes #granada holmes #granada johnlock #acd johnlock #fic rec #acd johnlock fic rec #granada johnlock fic rec #holmes/watson

[tismrot]

GOOD OMENS FAN THEORY OVER ALL FAN THEORIES (Seriously, losing sleep over this)

The ineffable husbands have met so many times throughout history, and have had TENSION for 6000 years - what are the odds they haven’t gotten busy at some point?

And - bear with me here - we know angels can have their memories extracted via both Beelzebub’s flies and via the decisions made by archangels. Gabriel was supposed to have his memory deleted, but put it in a fly for later instead.

So what if. What. If. The reason Aziraphale is so cheery is that he doesn’t remember. And the reason Crowley is a snarky, depressed alcoholic is that… he does. Because he has tampered with Aziraphale’s memory every single time.

Why? Because Aziraphale is never ready. But we know Crowley, he’s actually a super sweet baby, he wouldn’t have just DELETED the memories. No. He would simply hide them until Aziraphale was ready to renounce Heaven for them. What could be a trigger for Aziraphale to remember?

What about… A KISS? Oh oh oh so when Crowley then kisses Aziraphale, he remembers all their romances through time and every time Crowley asked him to run away together and every time Aziraphale chose Heaven. So the reaction is the bookshop is all this. The kiss wasn’t just a desperate measure, it was the last chance Crowley had to make Aziraphale remember their 6000 years of romance and yearning and oh my god.

And Crowley doesn’t understand that he was never rejected, Aziraphale just knew that they had to save Earth to live safely together, and that watching Earth go pop from Alpha Centauri wouldn’t be something either of them could live with. So he stays on Heaven’s side because of Crowley and their love, not despite him.

I’m currently writing a long-ass fic about this. I should probably gatekeep this, but I subscribe to anarcho-communism, and if you want to write about this, then go ahead! Just let me know, I want to read❤️ I created the tag #good omens kiss amnesia for this.

(And yes, I know amnesia is a very tired trope, very soap opera, very ficcy, but in this setting it actually WORKS, it’s already an established thing in the GO universe, and Crowley and Aziraphale behave as though one of them knows a lot more than the other)

#crowley #good omens fandom #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #innefable husbands #crowley edits #ineffable divorce #good omens art #good omens fanfiction #good omens fan theory #good omens tv #good omens fanfic #good omens kiss amnesia

[babyhoneyheslt]

Historical A/B/O

Unrequited (Complete - 143,707 words)

Mature

Omega Prince Harry of England has been engaged to Prince Louis of France ever since he was a young boy. Having met him at four and forming a bond, Harry is upset to find that Louis no longer treats him like a friend, instead treating him coldly.

However, Louis has his own dark secrets and Harry doesn’t know just how many dangers linger in French Court.

The Silver Dagger (Complete - 30,922 words)

Mature

After nearly being kidnapped by Prince Ben of Denmark, Queen Anne and King Desmond search for a safe place for Prince Harry to stay until they find him a suitor he likes.

They choose the place no one would think to look for a prince, a pirate ship. Captain Louis Tomlinson is a privateer as well as a pirate, and is loyal to the crown, and so he vows to protect Harry to the best of his ability.

With Harry kept safe on board The Silver Dagger, his parents work to find an array of suitors, but he just might find he wants someone else.

Into The Mist (Complete - 63.007 words)

Mature

Sneaking on board the famous pirate ship Compass Arrow to get a story for his journalist father, Harry must do everything to keep a low profile. But when one of the crew discovers him, hiding from the ruthless Captain Tommo becomes almost impossible.

Timeless (One Shot - 3,867 words)

After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.

Based on Taylor Swift's Timeless.

Castles Crumbling (One Shot - 6,554 words)

Being an unmated Omega and a king, Harry came under a lot of scrutiny. But when he makes a deal with Scotland, his world comes crashing down.

Louis had lost family due to the deal, and he planned to extract revenge. But when he finds Harry, he realises the country had been lied to.

Based on Castles Crumbling by Taylor Swift.

Dark Fics

The Nights and Dangerous Tricks (Complete - 20,322 words)

Explicit

Holmes Chapel had always been known for having the least amount of murders in the whole of the UK, however that all changes in the span of a month. Residents are all on high alert, waiting vigilant while police investigate.

Harry Styles lives alone, leaving him the perfect target to the murderers. However, maybe his good looks and pretty green eyes will spare him his life. For now.

Fantasy Fics

Take Me To Another World (One Shot - 5,034 words)

General Audiences

After escaping from the neighbouring kingdom, Harry finds himself on land for the first time. Despite knowing he should go back home, he lets his curiosity get the better of him.

When a mishap with discovering socks happens, he meets Louis who takes him out for coffee, and finds that Louis doesn’t quite meet the stereotype of humans.

Forgotten Kingdom (Part one of The Secret City Series - 2,495 words)

General Audiences

Louis had always loved ruined cities and had always been obsessed with Glyswing Kingdom, a city that many believed to be a myth. Moving into his grandparents house for renovations, he never expected to find what could be the long forgotten kingdom.

Castles Crumbling Down (Part two of The Secret City Series - 1,637 words)

General Audiences

With Harry freed, the kingdom crumbled down around them, prompting a quick escape.

One Shots

Electric Touch (3,901 words)

General Audiences

Harry had given up on love, until his friend Zayn sets him up on a blind date with Louis.

Based on Electric Touch by Taylor Swift

Gnome One's Home (1,764 words)

General Audiences

Harry has never been a fan of gnomes, but when one mysteriously appears in his garden, he can't help but adopt it.

He should've trusted his instincts

Fly To You (1,815 words)

General Audiences

On the way to their honeymoon, Harry and Louis find out the pilot is ill. With Louis being a pilot, he offers to fly the plane there, and it turns out to make the start of their honeymoon extra special.

Devil's In The Detail's Series

The Tower (Part One - 4,776 words)

General Audiences

There's something strange going on in Heaven.

Bored Angel Harry can't help but investigate.

The Fool (Part Two - 4,946 words)

General Audiences

After making a deal with the devil, Harry has to forge a new life for himself alongside Louis on Earth.

The Devil (Part Three - 3,913 words)

General Audiences

Harry has grown to love being on earth, but his absence in heaven and the company he keeps, hasn't gone unnoticed.

#my fics #allwaswell16 #alwaysxlarrie #1dficlibrary #1dsource #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #trackinghome #ficsfor4am #hltracks #hlficlibrary #hlcreators #hljournal #hlsource