#give me the not broken but fractured trust and then show me that despite the difficult things and the hardships that trust is still there!!

[fckmini]

Hello, how are you? This is my first request so I thought I'd give it a go. May I request a oneshot of Legolas recovering from a serious injury and Aragorn being his closest friend, take care of him to full health? (Fully platonic please). Thank you so much :)

I hope you like this anon ! thank you SO much for requesting and feel free to send in any more that you have! :)

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Care - Legolas x Aragorn platonic hurt/comfort!

- Golden: part 2 is coming soon, so pls keep your eye out for that and my other works! ;)

my masterlist is here - please check out some of my other work if you can!

As always please give me some feedback and please send requests <3

mutuals and ppl I think might be interested: @in-darker-dreams @tolkien-fantasy @the-messy-nessie @blairsanne @aceofatook @lilunoakes @shrimpsthings @the-nerd-procrastinator @khazdith @glorfindelridesagain @therealsomajesticdonki @catnip-and-caprice @blairsanne @leafycasper @ur-gucchi-im-crocs @thelifelemonsgaveyou @emptyspace008 @iactuallyshipeveryone @zemosboy @theelfmaiden @i-did-not-mean-to @gossip-gurl-of-middle-earth

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Motes of dust floated in the air, shimmering in the first rays of sun after dawn. A faint tune rang in his ears, an ancient melody, a soft song innate, yet incomprehensible due to the ravages of time. The young prince's starlight eyes finally opened. Legolas lay still on the bed, his body shattered with pain. A weakness washed over him, pinning him down. All at once, his mind raced as the events of the battlefield engulfed him.

The merciless march of the Uruk-hai, a steady earthquake of ravenous terror, had finally caught up with them. The waterlogged earth gulped for breath at their feet. The skeletal trees trembled, the long fingerlike branches quivered, fracturing under their force. Aragorn fought with all his might against the seemingly endless flood of brutality. Legolas stood by his side, his bowstring singing as he picked off Uruk after Uruk.

But then, it happened. With a sickening thud, the young prince fell. Within the swarm of violence, one of the Uruk-hai struck him down with a vicious stroke of his blade. The silver elf, a crushed butterfly on the ground: shimmering, cold, limp. His hot, sticky blood, thick like tar seeped through his clothes, and stained his pale skin. With a bubbling sob, Aragorn rushed to his friend's side, his sword flashing like lightning as he fought off the attackers.

Finally, the battle was won, but at a great cost. Legolas was gravely injured, his body broken and battered. Aragorn feared for his friend's life as he carried him to safety, away from the bloody battlefield.

For days, Aragorn tended to Legolas's wounds, never leaving his side. He cleaned the gaping gashes and lacerations, applied salves and poultices, and did everything in his power to ease Legolas's pain. Yet the elf remained trapped in a deathly slumber, his breathing shallow and ragged rattled through his lungs.

Now, he was awake. Aragorn's tender, attentive gaze hovered over Legolas as he tried to move, gritting his teeth. A sickening, festering shame contorted within the young elf, his cheeks hot with embarrassment as he became determined not to show weakness in front of Aragorn. The ranger had been his closest friend for years, and he knew he could trust him with his life. But right now, he didn't want to burden him.

Aragorn approached the bed, his face etched with worry. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Legolas managed a small smile, despite the pain. "I'll live," he replied, his voice hoarse.

Aragorn shook his head, grimacing at his friend's facade. "You took a serious wound, my friend," he observed. "It will take time for you to recover fully."

Legolas nodded, his eyes twinkled with pain. "I know," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "But I will recover. I must."

Aragorn took a seat by the bed, his hand resting on Legolas' arm. "I will be here for you, every step of the way," he vowed. "Whatever you need, I will do my best to provide."

A gentle oath, obvious but finally spoken. A gratitude overflowed Legolas' heart. It was as incorporeal, soft, and warm as a summer breeze. He had always known that Aragorn was a loyal friend, but in this moment, he felt his heart swell with affection for the ranger. He closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

Over the next few weeks, Aragorn tended to Legolas' every need. He brought him food and water, helped him to bathe, and even read to him when he was too weak to do so himself. Legolas felt his strength slowly returning, and he knew that it was all thanks to Aragorn's care and devotion.

One day, as Aragorn was tending to his wounds, Legolas reached out and took his hand. "Thank you," he said softly. "For everything."

Aragorn looked up, his eyes meeting Legolas'. "You don't need to thank me," he said. "You are my friend, and I will always be here for you."

Legolas smiled, his heart swelling with affection for the man. "I know," he said. "And I am grateful for that."

And with those words they continued their journey, side by side.

#legolas greenleaf #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfiction #lotr fluff #aragorn #aragorn x legolas #legolas fanfiction #lotr hurt comfort #the fellowship fluff #the fellowship of the ring #jrr tolkien #lord of the rings fic #fellowship of the fics #the hobbit #lord of the rings fanfiction #aragorn son of arathorn

[stained-glass-wing]

Writing

--------------

Despite the force of the blizzard outside, his tower was as quiet as it always was. Deceptively so, in her opinion--especially with the damning evidence of a shattered mirror, its fractured surface splitting off multiple reflections of them both strewn at different angles. Oddly fitting, in a way.

Butterfly had given him some space, sensing he would probably prefer to vent some frustrations in private without the worry of potentially frightening one of his Rues, but she wasn't about to let him stew alone for the rest of the night.

Rather than one of his usual reading spots, she found him rigidly leaned next to a window, arms crossed, staring icily out at the night storm. Butterfly idly wondered if part of his revulsion at his anger came from catching phantom glimpses of the pastor's eyes in his reflection, hence the broken mirror. The thought made her heart wrench.

Hail barely turned his head to glance at her as she approached, but the air somehow became even more frigid.

"Haven't I let you down enough for one night?" he asked, with palpable bitterness and self-loathing.

"I don't know what you mean," Butterfly replied.

"Oh Rue.. I meant to give you time to relax tonight, and instead we just spent it all talking about my shit." His voice was even, controlled, but there was murder in his eyes. "And now you've come to me after the fact, and I still can't give you what you need."

"Implying that I need something other than time with you."

"I know it's hard on them to go without being held for too long, and I'm the only one trusted to hold them."

"Both true statements," she agreed with a small shrug. "You'll hold them again. We can survive until then."

"You shouldn't have to survive, I should be able to get it together enough to--" He stopped abruptly with a grimace. "I'm sorry, this is just more of what you don't need."

"Normally I'm quite comfortable with you dictating what we need, but you're a bit off the mark this time, my beloved fairy." She held out a hand to him, entreating. "Let me show you something."

Naturally he couldn't resist his curiosity, even as withdrawn and cynical as he was. He took her hand and she led him to the armchair, gesturing for him to sit. After he obliged, she took her place nestled into the crook of his arm, settling in with a small sigh.

Hail held her close, but he was still tense. "My Butterfly.. As pleased as I am that you can find comfort with me like this, I still feel as though I'm failing the Rues who need me in a more active sense," he admitted gravely.

"And I'll always welcome that care and attention from you. But look," she pointed to the broken mirror.

In each jagged reflection a different Shard sat curled up with their fairy, in different arrangements of limbs and hands. Some were tucked in close, others held gingerly, but all with the same abundance of love. As Hail looked closer, he noticed that one of his reflections held a small white-haired figure safely nestled into his neck.

"All of this, from talking to Echo tonight," she told him.

"I don't understand how.."

"I wish I could explain better...something about the way feeling connected works for us, the way it ripples through Rues." Butterfly yawned into her hand and snuggled in closer, smiling as his hold reflexively tightened to keep her there. "I don't pretend to be an expert. Ask Echo or Lily sometime, maybe they know."

In the multitude of reflections, all the Rues and Hails settled in sleepily together. The mirror, broken in a flurry of emotion, showing countless scenes of the pair dozing off in each other's arms.

"Don't have to be perfect," Butterfly mumbled, already half asleep. "Just be here with us, however you are."

She didn't hear his reply as she drifted off, but she knew what his answer always was.

#butterfly #❄️ #🖋️

[foggyparadisecandy]

I hate when things end and there was so much undone and unsaid. Promises that go unfulfilled or, worse, were broken. Personal shit ahead.

Potential unreached.

Damages left unrepaired.

I hate uncertainties and unknowable things.

I hate knowable things that I no longer can address.

I hate hating things. Such a waste of time and energy.

I hate knowing someone I love is hurting because they are choosing to hurt.

I hate thinking that their worldview is so fractured and damaged.

I hate thinking that their default mode is isolation and avoidance when we spent so much time showing how much better connection and sharing is.

I hate lessons being unlearned.

I hate knowing that advancements have been set back.

I hate thinking she might be hurt or killed because of her choice - her completely unnecessary and voluntary choice to run into danger.

I hate thinking that trauma is being added to trauma after trauma after trauma.

I hate thinking that she doesn't feel she deserves or can ask for help.

I hate thinking that she thinks she is all alone and has to be alone and deserves to be alone and will always be alone.

I hate missing her and worrying about her.

I fucking hate this entire bullshit thing.

I hate that she abandoned me and stole my voice.

I hate that she wants to hurt.

I hate that she hurt me in some subconscious way to hurt herself.

I hate knowing that these are all just very informed opinions of things I know.

I hate wondering if she was lying to me all along because I fucking know she wasn't and I trust her.

I hate believing in her but also seeing she needs help to acheive her maximum potential.

I hate being cut off from her.

I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate because I'm so afraid for her and worried about her.

I'm so worried for her.

I want her to be safe.

I want to know she will be safe.

I want to know she will get real help and stop pushing down shit.

I want to know she will heal.

I want to know she will choose a path that gives her a loving life.

I want to know she accepts she is loveable, loved, deserving, wonderful, sweet, kind, caring, capable, dependable, strong, golden.

I want her to be ok.

Selfishly ... all of it is selfish ... I want to KNOW she will be ok and live.

It's a sick thought but I started as her "daddy" but I feel like her dad - I feel like she's my daughter fr and I'm so fucking beside myself again with worry for her.

She never had a decent father. She never had unconditional support and love. She had neglect and mental abuse and a despicable set of parents.

She deserves better. She chose to push me aside so it's not me.

I am not her real father. I'm not even her fake father.

I'm just some rejected fool who still cares about her. Impotent to do anything. Cut off.

How do I find the path to moving on ... hmmmm ... why do I continue to care ... she did so much for me as I did things for her. She changed me fundamentally.

God do I miss her and fear for her. When do I set this fear down?

I never really could keep her safe. She could have had a car accident at any point. Point in fact, she was shot on a mission. She could have been killed. I would not have known. I could not have helped.

Is that the path to letting this go?

It was always an illusion that I could keep her safe. Despite my desires. It was always imagination. None of us can keep anyone else safe in the long run.

Everyone walks alone on their paths in life.

I'm driving myself crazy with fear. Even when we were together, I couldn't stop her from being in dangerous situations. Life itself is dangerous. We all have risks all day long.

I need to focus on that and remember. Just because she rejected me and it triggered my abandonment issues, nothing materially changed about my ability to keep her safe. That was always a fantasy.

And I certainly cannot unring the bell she rang. She signed up for the mission. It's done. She's either going to stay alert, stay alive soldier! or she's going to get hurt or killed.

I can't change shit.

Fuck. Ok. I never could keep her safe. And I cannot change shit about her situation. AND ... I will never fucking know the end of her story regardless.

That's correct. Those three things are truths - hard and ugly truths.

Maybe some day she reaches back out. Knowing her stubborness lol, it's unlikely. And the more time marches on, she probably just thinks of me as some weird BDSM dude she dealt with.

Ah well. Maybe she's some weird submissive girl I dealt with? No ... my brain doesn't work like that. She will never be "just" that to me no matter how she sees me.

Calm again. Hopefully it sticks.

#catharsis #self love #self care

[di-kutla]

Ahhh! I've been reading your tags on Tech specific posts and I agree!

He is the emotional rock and anchor for the boys and, as much as it would hurt, I do want to see him break. That would be such a sharp contrast to everything we have seen from him, and I want to know how his brothers would react to their most emotionally reserved (distant?) brother.

And I fully agree with your idea of him being an insomniac. I've headcanoned that his brain is almost too active for his own good, and it won't rest - so sleep is either fleeting or near impossible for Tech.

And I FULLY agree with the desire to see Wrecker reconcile with his brothers over what happened in Battle Scars. He choked Tech, and almost killed Hunter, but we only see him apologize to Omega? I was a little frustrated that we didn't see him get to talk to his brothers about that situation, as the brothers relationship is the most important part of the show to me. I don't know but... ah, I think I'm frustrated that we only really got to see how Omega reacted to that whole situation? The episode focused on her, when I was desperate to see how Tech would respond to his big brother choking him - especially since I see Tech as almost unable to process one of his brothers hurting him? And to see how Hunter was feeling after Wrecker almost killed him, but ugh, that's :/

Anyways, just wanted to say that I love seeing your tags about Tech!

honestly i think at this point its a necessity for Tech to finally just. break, and i just hope its in this overly exaggerated way! i want there to be emphasis that Tech has never reached this point before, he has always been able to keep himself under control no matter how exhausted or stressed hes been before. I want the emotional breakdown to crash through him so hard and fast that it leaves him so devastatingly exhausted that he cant even stand on his own and Hunter and Wrecker have to run to catch him from falling. I want Tech's breaking to break them. and really i think more than anything i want Tech's final breaking point to be just. something, ANYTHING relating to Crosshair.

i completely understand why they would keep all the focus on Omega, and show the importance of Wrecker apologizing to her and explaining that he tried. she's not a soldier, this was never the life that she was meant for. she was never trained for this and is so unaccustomed to the terror and the violence that could possibly follow. though she was raised around soldiers, she was kept pretty sheltered, i think. whereas, this is the life that the batch is used to, what they were born for and trained for. so i get the distinction and the importance of Wrecker apologizing to her

but still the FRUSTRATION of not getting the same with Hunter and Tech bc, like you said, these are his brothers, these are two people who he was raised with, trained with, theyve been through everything together. they are his team, his family. Wrecker would never hurt them, and they would never in their life think that Wrecker could hurt them, but now its happened! even if it was bc of the inhibitor chip a line has still been crossed. even if it wasnt Wrecker's fault, there still had to have been a shift in trust and awareness on Hunter and Tech's side of things

and that needs to be addressed! it needs to be rectified! there needs to be a clear understanding of "you didn't mean to do this, and i don't blame you, but it still happened and we still need to work through the aftermath. things have changed, but we can get past it and come out on top" and frankly if i am not given this then i will have to do it my damn self!!

#carif answers #wwheeljack #tech #wrecker #the bad batch #i just. AGH #let me see the consequences for actions taken #let me see the reconciliation!! #give me the horror and the shame and the emotional conversations that are almost too hard to have but NEED to be had!!! #give me the not broken but fractured trust and then show me that despite the difficult things and the hardships that trust is still there!! #and at its very foundations is unshakable no matter what happens!!! #except apparently if you are crosshair bc then one (1) specific bespectacled brother just throws everything out the window then #i just. god. GOD #honestly ive been debating it and i think i might start a fic series that just. addresses these sort of things i guess?? #like i have a few ideas like wrecker apologizing to tech #and also rex and echo actually talking about fives #just stuff happening between scenes or between eps that i wish would have gotten addressed or talked about deeper #cause theres just. THERES A LOT #ANYWAY god sorry i went on a rant dksjf;a #thank you for the ask and im really happy youve been enjoying my tech tags i just. i love him very much and i have a lot of thoughts!! #also sorry this took me a hot minute to get to ive been slammed with work and prepping to move #and wait okay one more thought really i think it would really be more hunter and tech trying to brush off what happened #even echo would probably shrug it off bc wrecker did say that he tried to fight it #but still just the amount of shame wrecker would be feeling for it regardless #i think there really would be this interesting distinction to be explored of like....... knowing there is a line #between who you are and what the chip is making you do #but in that moment that line is just so blurred and everything just kind of bleeds together the longer the chip stays activated #and even after the chip deactivates or is removed its still just. hard to distinguish if who you were before and after the chip #were really two separate people at all #i. this may be a scene and conversation that i want to write between tech and cross bc i just. i have a lot of thoughts about them frankly

[bigtittydemonwife]

The pasta’s love language Part 1

Jeff The Killer 

Protectiveness

 this is the most obviously way the bastard man lets you know he cares about you 

Behind the asshole tsundere attitude and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about life lays another smaller asshole and buried deep under that lays the small boy that picked a fight with three bullies to protect his loving brother

Weather it’s him decking o**enderman for being creepy or saving you from a tricky last victim it seems Jeff always knows when your in trouble 

So low-key about it you never really notice his eyes on you until you’re being helped, and even then you never notice how they never leave

Jeff is like a dog, but not the loving wagging tail dog, the asshole that stands on your feet with his sharp claws, rips open your pillows and terrorises the mailman so much your mail is delivered by drone.

but he is also the dog that late at night sneaks onto your bed and whenever there’s someone strange approaching you on the street at night stands in front of you and bares his teeth 

Physical Touch 

Jeff’s love isn’t soft

Jeff’s love is as rough as he is 

Jeff’s touch is soft head-pats after you put someone in their place 

His touch is high fives after a successful mission where your hands linger together

His touch is quick side hugs before he goes off to go do something stupid 

Cheeky neck kisses in front of others to make you flustered 

fingers running though your hair or down your sides whenever he gets bored 

easiest way to get cuddled by this man? after a mission when he’s too tired to act like a tsundere  

Jeff is funnily like a cat in this regards, his cuddles are fun but he has to want to, otherwise it’s deemed as unnecessary

Defensiveness

Jeff isn’t a rational man 

So when he gets jealous his first response is to just stab the guy and run 

Ass a traumatised stubborn teen Jeff is quick to anger but he toe’s the line (aha reference) at when people disrespect you 

Is he an asshole to you all the time?

Yes

Is he the only person who can be mean to you?

Yes

Despite what everyone thinks Jeff does understand the difference between mean teasing and just being an asshole 

And if your someone like me who shows your love to people you care about by teasing and being mean to him he’s gonna understand if your friends are the same way 

What he does not accept is anyone who dares treat you like your lower than them 

thats when he pulls out his knife and commits stabby stabby 

Ticci Toby 

Physical Touch 

Unlike Jeff when Toby is in love he’s a touchy feely person

And once again unlike Jeff when it comes to cuddles Toby is most likely to be the one to initiate cuddles 

On a good day Toby recharges with touch

Most of the time he’s all over you 

His favourite way to cuddle is him on the bottom with you on his chest and your face buried into his neck 

If you cuddle with him like that theres a 97% chance you are not leaving any time soon 

He loves to hold your hands alot, Toby hands are an eternal mystery as sometimes their cold as fuck and others their super warm

After a really bad day when he’s had his alone time and recharged (which can take as long as a week) he just wants to lay with you a bit 

this usually happens when he’s burnt out (missions do not help) 

on days like that he wants to be held in your arms and rest his head on your chest

that way as he falls asleep he can hear your heartbeat and know your safe and alive 

Compliments 

Toby is an asshole, but he’s a lovable asshole 

And on a good day when he’s happy and in love he’s acting like a lovestuck school boy 

He’s the type to give you either the cutest nicknames or the weirdest 

One day he’ll call you love the next Mustard 

 His compliments are the sweetest thing ever because of how special they are 

instead of complimenting something basic about you (well not basic but well seen by everyone) he compliments you on some of the most obscure things that you didn’t think anyone noticed about you 

“I love how fast you talk when you get excited”

“I love easily you get along with sally”

“Your eyes glow in the sunset, it’s really pretty”

Ben Drowned 

Space

Ben is an antisocial person. 

He’s not bitter about it but most of the time he prefers to keep to himself 

Ben understands if his partner isn’t like that, but one of his ways of showing love is giving them space to be their own person 

While Ben does love to spend time with you and share interests and hobbies 

He is a human demon? ghost? thing that loves alone time 

And by giving you space and your own time alone it’s his way of letting you still have freedom to be you

Ben recharges his social battery with a quiet atmosphere so alone time or cuddle time is his favourite thing to do with you when he’s down

Don’t get me wrong he loves cuddles 

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to be clinging to you 24/7

Acts of service

Ben is a patient person 

Despite what people think all his years of gaming have taught him a lot about taking his time and how easier it is to get things done when he’s chill 

So he’s quite alright with doing things for people when they need help 

But even so he’s still his own person 

So he doesn’t usually do it for free unless it’s for someone he really cares about 

And that’s when you come in 

Ben is basically ready to do anything for you 

Will Jeff call him a simp? Yes, will he care? No 

In the end of the day he’s getting ass and Jeff’s not

Anyway 

You could ask him to hack the government for you and he would 

But basic shit is him bringing you snacks he stole from Jeff’s room when your hungry 

He just likes making you happy 

Physical Touch

Ironically enough in complete contradiction of the first one Ben actually loves spending time with you 

Not all the time, otherwise in his opinion the time he gets with you will feel less special 

But when either of you have a bad day he likes to either cuddle you and take a nap or hold you while you both/ he plays video games 

Ben’s a ghost? Thing so his body is always cold 

That’s one of the reasons why he loves holding you so much is feeling your warm body against him 

He likes to nap on your tiddys because 1) he’s perverted and 2) he likes to hear your heartbeat 

He finds the sound of it fascinating 

Sometimes he feels his pulse just because the shock of not feeling anything is fun to him 

Ben is probably one of the easiest pastas to date 

He’s like a house cat

Just give him attention and water and he can fend for himself all good 

Eyeless Jack 

Giving Gifts

Jack in love is a very very confusing thing 

Not because he’s contradictory but because the way he flirts sometimes ties into his demonic animalistic tendencies 

For example 

His gifts to you can sometimes be very sweet things that instead are normal gifts like flowers or chocolates but instead small things like breakfast in bed after a stressful mission (He may or may not use his acting like a doctor as an excuse yes EJ is the mansions doctor fight me bitch)

and then other times it’s organs like a heart or an eyeball, bones or a skull (sometimes animal) and sometimes even teeth, if your lucky most of the time once more they just belong to some pour animal in the woods 

and they say romance is dead

Jacks way of showing love is sorta a mixture of how some birds gift their mates things to flirt and how cats give their owners dead animals

He’s cute I swear 

Acts of Service

Unlike Ben jack isn’t going to drop everything to please you 

but once again the way he shows his love is more casual(?) (I mean he gives you dead things to show his love that ain’t casual)

and if he’s in a good mood/ had a good day then more often than not you’ll find yourself being spoiled in a completely Jack way?

You’re thirsty? He made you both coffee/ tea/ hot chocolate 

You’re on a mission and it’s raining? Take his jacket (not like he’s gonna die from the cold)

You’re hungry? Take a snack from his secret stash that no one else is aloud to go through (though most of the time it’s filled with organs)

Jack hates it when his lover is stressed so he likes to do whatever he can to help them out 

Physical Touch

I hate to sound stereotypical but Jack does this the most because he is extremely touch starved 

Trust me he’s not into PDA at all but behind closed doors he’s finding any excuse he can get to touch you ( with your consent )

he loves sleeping together because usually at night he’s reading or trying to piece together his broken parts

But when he’s holding you in his arms, and whispering how much he loves you in your ear when he’s sure you’re asleep he feels like he doesn’t to be whole 

that he can’t expect you to fix him at all, but being with you is enough to make him feel like instead of being broken, being fractured is alright 

But weather it’s his hand on your cheek on your hands laced together Jack likes to feel your skin against his 

fucckkkk I’m tired, this like took three days, you’re getting a part two when I don’t feel like my head’s trying to kill itself and no I did not spell check this nor will I ever as spellings for pussys and people who graduate school 

#Creepypasta #Creepypasta x Reader #cp #Cp x Reader #Imagines #Headcanons #Ticci Toby #Ticci Toby x Reader #Ticci Toby Imagines #Ben Drowned #Ben Drowned x Reader #Ben Drowned Imagines #Eyeless Jack #Eyeless Jack x Reader #Eyeless Jack Imagines #Jeff The Killer #Jeff The Killer Imagines #Ticci Toby Headcanons #Ben Drowned Headcanons #Eyeless Jack Headcanons #Jeff The Killer Headcanons #x reader

[twdsunshine]

'Only then did he give in to you, kissing you until your skin was sore from the scratch of his beard and leaving you breathless.’ (Beta x Reader)

Requested by @80s4life.  The actual request was just for some Beta smut, but, as you mentioned me leaving you hanging in my Mine mini-series, I picked a line from that to act as a prompt... 

You were completely surrounded by him.  That was how it felt.  Like everything you could see, touch and feel was Beta.  He was just so big, his broad, muscular frame covering yours like a blanket, warming you to your core as he mapped your smaller figure with strong, callused hands, his mouth painting purple bruises over your throat.  His hair fell around you, creating a curtain between you and the rest of the world, only increasing the sensation that the earth had shrunk right down until he was all that existed, and your eyes flickered open when he lifted his head, locking on his intense, hazel gaze as it raked over your face, taking in every reaction to his touch.  Despite the need to stay quiet, he was intent on his mission to draw a needy whine from you, wanton and helpless as you sought his lips, and only then did he give in to your desire, kissing you until your skin was sore from the scratch of his beard and leaving you breathless, drinking in every stifled moan and cry that followed.

There was something primal about engaging in the act, as you were, in the lush vegetation of the forest.  Your spine was cushioned by the verdant grasses that sprouted from the ground between the trees, the chill of the densely-packed soil warring with the heat of his touch.  Whenever he ducked his head to kiss you silent, the drifting trills of birdsong would dance around the edges of your awareness, and, when he pulled back, he wore a halo created by the sun’s rays as they filtered through the canopies above.  It made sense.  To walk with the Whisperers was to embrace nature, become one with it as the corpses did, so becoming one in the midst of it gave you the freeing sensation of unleashing something wild and raw that had previously been caged somewhere deep in your soul.  Beta had somehow set it free, and now you revelled in it together.

A soft gasp escaped you as he began to move above you, hips rolling, smooth and fluid, the man possessing an animal’s grace despite his size, though you refused to give yourself over to him completely; not quite yet.  It was building, you could feel it, but you distracted yourself for a moment, raising your hand from where it had been clawing at his chest to smooth over his jawline, trace down the length of his nose, and thumb over his bottom lip, his mouth dropping open in a deep rumbling growl.  It was the only time you got to see him like this, unmasked.  Without the covering of another’s skin over his face, he was ruggedly handsome, and you would always find the urge to pause, suppress the tightening need within you and just gaze at him, memorising his features and marvelling in the trust he showed by revealing to you what lay beneath.  

Thick fingers laced through yours, peeling your touch away and pinning your hand above your head, his grip biting, forcing your focus back to the weight of him, the steady build, the stars that were beginning to shoot across your vision as you let go of that last sliver of control and lost yourself in his rhythm.

“Now.”  His voice was a gruff rasp in your ear, and that was it all took to have you splintering apart, shattering into pieces, clinging desperately to him in the hopes that he might just have the strength to hold you together.  But he was caught up in the same explosion, fracturing into fragments, until the both of you were just a jumble of broken parts, sweat-slick and sliding together as you came down from your highs, and the world crept back in once more.

#the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd fanfiction #the walking dead drabbles #twd drabbles #beta #beta fanfiction #beta drabbles #beta x reader

[beccascribbles]

hcs series detailing what it is like to be a manager for the various haikyuu teams

karasuno | seijoh |

warnings - swearing

word count - 2.1k

you weren't immune to oikawa's charms, but being friends with him since middle school meant you were the least likely in the school to fall for him (you were also the least likely person he would mess with in that way, especially as iwaizumi would happily punch him for the trouble)

this meant you were a perfect candidate for manager of the team

when you all been first years, the team had come up to you and begged

ultimately, it had been iwaizumi who had finally convinced you (the sight of him almost begging you would be forever ingrained in your mind. boy did not want to be the only one responsible for oikawa)

by the time you reached your third year, you were immensely glad that you had agreed to manage the team

at times, it had been tough. dealing with oikawa's jealous fangirls often felt like a full time job. the amount of times you had sprinted into the club room to the shock of the team was ridiculous

one day, you had dived through the door, yelling for then to shut and lock the door as you crashed to the floor

iwaizumi had been by your side in an instant, worried gaze assessing you for injuries. when you let out a wince, rubbing at you arm, he was automatically assessing it for damage

"it's not broken," he assured you, giving your head an affection pat before his gaze turned to oikawa, eyes narrowing. "call your fucking fangirls off, shittykawa"

"i've tried," he whined, giving you an apologetic look. "clearly their love for me is too strong"

"maybe if they actually spoke to you, they'd realise what a crap personality you have," sighed matsukawa, slapping oikawa on the back affectionately and then holding the hand up to receive a high five from hanamaki

slowly, hesitantly, you moved over to the door, pressing your ear to the surface. through the wood, you could the girls, their high-pitched voices grating at your nerves

“i really fucking hate them,” you grumbled, moving away to sit on the floor beside hanamaki, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you leaned against his shoulder. “why did i let you convince me to join this club?”

this was directed to iwaizumi, who had the good idea to look sheepish. oikawa, on the other hand, collapsed down on the floor in front of you and spread out his arms. “because you love us, y/n-chan”

“not you,” you scoffed, poking him in the chest. he pouted

“that’s no way to talk to your childhood friend”

“it is when they have a swarm of jealous fangirls after you”

oikawa looked like he was about to reply, but a clip to the ear by iwaizumi was enough to distract him. he turned to his friend with a cry of outrage, beginning to bicker with the ace

while you would usually tell them to shut up, pull them apart, you couldn’t really be bothered. breaking up fights was for when you were on duty. training hadn’t started yet so you figured you could let them bicker

the second years clashed less than the third years but sometimes you were needed to break up the fights, particularly when kyoutani made a return to the team

while he was away, you had been one of the only ones who checked up on him, always telling him that if he needed to talk, if he was struggling with anything, you would be there

therefore, he had a lot of respect for you, placing you on a similar level to iwaizumi (the only member of the team who could get away with telling him what to do or scolding him angrily)

this meant that, when you appeared in front of him, placing a placating hand on his chest, his hackles would lower and he would back away, though the glare would remain on his face

truth be told, kyoutani was a little bit scared of you suddenly exploding on him, especially after the way you had snapped at him when he had first pulled off a risky play in practice

you had seen red when he had pushed kindaichi out of the way to spike the ball, marching over and grabbing him by the top to drag him away. it was the first time they had ever seen him apologise

while kyoutani respected you, the relationship you had with him was very different with the one you had with the other second years. kyoutani would never invite you to lunch. watari and yahaba on the other hand...

your week is not complete without a lunch with them. you aren’t even sure when you managed to form such a strong friendship with them, but it was likely when you agreed to help them in maths (it’s not yahaba’s strong point and he begged watari to join him)

you are the one responsible for stopping yahaba showing off, particularly when the gym floods with fangirls, most of them there to watch oikawa

he will flip his hair and affect an air very similar to oikawa which will frustrate you to no end. you will drag him off court by the ear, telling him to stop, threatening him with extra conditioning

matsukawa and hanamaki will definitely start snickering at the way his face reddens, focused more on this than the fact that they are meant to be improving their serves

you can always trust watari to help you out, no matter how much you insist that you don’t need it. he is the first to volunteer to help you set up the court, to help you carry the equipment for away games

now, the first years. if iwaizumi is the team dad, you are the mum

you dote on kindaichi and kunimi, trying to keep them away from matsukawa’s and hanamaki’s influence. you don’t want them to be corrupted by the pair. iwaizumi will help you but even he sees little point in stopping the inevitable

kindaichi was very awkward around you at the start. his brain couldn’t comprehend that a pretty girl was talking to him, let alone asking if he was okay, if he needed a drink

eventually, kindaichi relaxes. you are the one he turns to when he has a problem, explaining it all to you. if it involves another team member, you will encourage him to tell them, not wanting there to be fractures in the team. after all, aoba johsai thrives because of their great teamwork

kunimi is, as usual, very relaxed around you

most of the time, he barely acknowledges your fussing, simply waving you away and heading back onto the court to resume practice

however, if he wants to slack off (which he does often), it will be you he makes eye contact with. you know you shouldn’t condone this behaviour but, occasionally, you allow it. he promises he will pull through for the game and you believe him, though you do explain that if he slacks off too much it could mean risking his sport in the starting rotation

your quiet understanding is often what motivates him to keep going. he doesn’t want to disappoint you. plus, he has seen you angry and would rather not be the reason for that

oikawa is intimately familiar with your anger. the boy just seems to do everything possible to piss you off. what angers you most is the apparent disregard for his own health, but you don't take this out on him physically

you and iwaizumi team up to handle him, with both of you favouring a more violent approach (sometimes that's the only way to knock some sense into oikawa's brain)

while iwaizumi will throw either oikawa or various items such as volleyballs at him, you tend to favour a good old-fashioned slap to the back of the head

he always knows you're coming, his whole body tensing at the sound of your footsteps drawing closer to him. oikawa is almost more scared of you than iwaizumi, probably because you are more cold fury than fiery anger

that first night iwaizumi had asked you to stay behind after practice with him, your heart almost broke at the sight of oikawa pushing himself

you saw the sweat, watched him stumble, clutch at his damaged knee... but despite the pain, he kept pushing

as you watched, you grasped iwaizumi's hand, who was tense beside you, needing the physical anchor as much as you

"why does he do this to himself?" you questioned, watching as oikawa pushed up from the floor, landing awkwardly on his feet. still, he kept pushing

iwaizumi didn't bother to answer. the answer was obvious, and you both knew what it was. he needed to get better, for the team, for himself, for revenge

"if he keeps going like that, his knee will be permanently damaged and he can say goodbye to a volleyball career," said iwaizumi, jaw tight. hand still in yours, he marched onto the court

he finally released your hand to grab oikawa by the shirt and yank him away. his voice was a low growl as he spoke, "don't fucking complain. we've been here long enough and you're going home before you regret it"

"you're so... urgh, do you want to make me lose my mind with worry, tooru?" you sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, more to reassure yourself that he was fine than to other support. he slung an arm over your shoulder, leaning on you slightly with iwaizumi at his other side

"didn't think you cared, y/n-chan," he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze. you caught eyes with iwaizumi, rolling your own at oikawa's words

"of course i care. we both do"

from that night on, you and iwaizumi took turns watching oikawa, stopping him when it became clear that he was doing too much

on the nights when you had to watch him, you would sit in the corner of the gym on a video chat with matsukawa and hanamaki as you tried to do some homework (to be honest, you spent most of your time joking around and chatting, but the thought was there)

oikawa, though he never showed it, was grateful for you and iwaizumi's worry. it put a check on him which he would never admit to wanting, but needed desperately

on weekends, you and the third years will always meet up, be it to do homework or just watch a movie at someone's house

movie nights tend to be quite messy (it's not uncommon to be picking popcorn out of your hair at the end)

one time, you had fallen asleep on iwaizumi's shoulder only to wake up to his head flopped against yours and a snickering oikawa and hanamaki. the pair had taken great joy in drawing a moustache and beard on your faces, while matsukawa took photos (he's usually the one who takes your group photos and sends them to everyone at the end)

managing the team is mainly fun, though it does have its cursed moments

you weren't ashamed to admit that you cried, along with the rest of the third years, when you left

however, the tears did not stop you from giving your kouhais some strongly-worded advice

yahaba was warned to not think with his dick and to try his very best to not intimidate oikawa in his quest for some fangirls

kyoutani was told that you were only a phone call away and would not hesitate to scold him if he let his anger take control over his playing style

honestly, the only thing you wished watari was luck. he'd need it, especially as there was no manager to support them next year

kunimi you told to slack off less, though you wouldn't hold it against him if he did sneak off for a little nap during the school day so long as he was energised for volleyball

with kindaichi, you simply gave him a hug and told him to keep trying his best, to not beat himself up over every mistake he made

it was oikawa who insisted on a big group hug, pulling you and a rather disgruntled iwaizumi into his arms, the rest of the team happily bundling in

and, as you hugged each other, you were thankful iwaizumi had convinced you to join the team because you knew you had made friends for life

#haikyuu x manager reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq hcs #hq headcanons #hq manager hcs #seijoh x manager #seijoh third years x reader #seijoh x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #yahaba x reader #watari x reader #kyoutani x reader #kunimi x reader #kindaichi x reader

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Seven

CW: NSFW, language

AN: Wow, I wrote seven chapters in seven days and I feel so accomplished! This fic has been so fun to write, and I hope everybody enjoyed. (Last chapter btw)

Part Six//Masterlist//2835 words

By some miracle, Aelin made it through the rest of the day. She introduced herself to Nox, showed him the ropes, and got some work done. And as soon as she had completed the day’s tasks, she just about bolted out to her car, headed to Rowan’s apartment.

There was no hesitation in Aelin’s mind as she firmly knocked on Rowan’s door. He would let her in, explain, and she would realize that this was all some cosmic joke.

Aelin heard footsteps approach the door, and she braced herself, straightening her back and plastering a smile on her face.

But the door never opened. After a moment, Aelin heard the footsteps retreat, and she blinked in confusion.

She knocked again.

Another minute passed. No more noises sounded within the apartment, and Aelin started to scowl. What right did he have to ignore her? She was his boss! Well, not anymore—but that was beside the point.

Aelin reached for the handle and jiggled it, but it was locked.

“Rowan,” she called. “Please let me in.”

“Dammit, go away, Aelin.”

She hadn’t been expecting a response, and to hear that animosity toward her frightened her. Rowan must have quit because she was sleeping with him, and he wasn’t comfortable with the situation. Aelin had never done anything like this before, never unintentionally harassed someone out of their job, and her heart started aching. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Coming to terms with the fact that Rowan wasn’t going to let her in the door, Aelin pulled a bobby-pin from her hair and inserted it into the lock. She had been a rambunctious teenager, always causing poor Aedion and her parents trouble, and picking a lock was second nature to her.

She smiled internally as the last tumbler fell into place and the lock clicked. Aelin absentmindedly discard the bobby pin in her purse and turned the knob.

Rowan was sitting on the couch, hunched over with his head in his hands, clearly upset about something. His head snapped up the instant Aelin walked in, and his eyes narrowed. “How did you—”

Aelin shut the door, cutting him off. “Why did you quit.” She was slightly angry at herself, and it came out in her tone.

Rowan sighed. “I resigned.”

“Same difference. Tell me why.”

Rowan stood up, but still kept his distance. “I found a new job. I thought it would be a better opportunity for me.”

Aelin scoffed. “You were just relocated to Terrasen. Don’t tell me you’re moving again.”

“I’m not moving. I got a job at Salvaterre Enterprises. It pays more.”

“If you wanted a raise, I—”

“I left. It’s done. There is nothing to say.”

Aelin frowned, trying to cover up the fact that her heart was fracturing in her chest. “But—”

“Do you always break into the homes of employees who decide they don’t want to work for you anymore?”

The ice in Rowan’s voice had Aelin trembling. “I want to know if you’re leaving because of me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re sleeping with me!” Aelin yelled. “And you’re quitting because you’re worried about it or you’re not comfortable with it or something and I can’t just let you do that! I can’t just sexually harass one of my employees and let them leave.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “You’re not… Aelin, this is not your fault.”

“Then what is this?” she rasped. “Why did you even apply at Salvaterre Enterprises anyway?”

She could see the hesitation in his eyes. Rowan took a step forward, then paused. “I can’t… I just needed to go. I’ve never been uncomfortable around you, Aelin, I swear.”

“Then why, Rowan, did you go? Because I’m going to keep believing this is my fault if you don’t prove otherwise.”

He hissed out a breath and turned around, running his hands through his hair. “It’s because I…”

“Because you what?”

“I can’t… I shouldn’t say.”

“Tell me,” Aelin’s demanded. She dropped her purse on the floor so that she could cross her arms.

“Because I’m in love with you!” Rowan shouted, spinning back around. “Because I love how passionate you are about your work, and how funny you are, and how you pretend to have an attitude but spend your whole life trying to help people. I love the way you tuck your hair behind your ears when you’re nervous, and how red your face gets when you’re embarrassed, and I even love the way you eat your gods-damn bagels with a fork. And I can’t do it anymore!”

Aelin couldn’t summon words. Rowan loved her?

He was breathing hard, surprise evident on his face. Maybe he hadn’t meant to say all that.

“I think you should go, Aelin. Don’t feel bad. You’re not to blame.” Rowan sighed, turning his head.

He expected her to leave. To walk out and pretend this had never happened, to forget about him. Aelin didn’t know what she was going to do next, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to forget about him.

Rowan took a deep breath, then looked back at Aelin, who wasn’t breathing at all. “I’m sorry, Aelin. But I need you to leave now.”

Aelin didn’t do that.

Rowan gasped in surprise as he felt Aelin’s lips crash into his. She had mindlessly surged forward with no intentions of stopping herself. Aelin fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer, tangling her tongue with his. Rowan kissed her back for what could have been a minute or an hour; Aelin was too lost in him to tell. When he finally pulled back, they were both panting.

“What does that mean?” Rowan gasped out.

“I think I might be in love with you, too.”

Rowan yanked her back to his mouth, and Aelin felt herself melting into his touch, trying to get closer and closer, touching as much of his body as she could.

They parted again, and Rowan raised his hand to her face. “You really feel the same?” His thumb stroked her cheek and Aelin leaned into the touch.

“Of course I do. You’re amazing and kind and hilarious, and despite your protests to the contrary, you’re a total sweetheart. I love you, Rowan. I should have noticed it a lot sooner, and I must have been blind not to until now, but I see it now. I love you.”

Rowan leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you, too. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve cared about people, but no one has ever driven me so insane.”

Aelin laughed. “I drive you insane? I have never broken so many rules because of one man. And that’s really saying something.”

“Oh, I know,” he replied, their noses brushing. “No goody two shoes knows how to pick locks.”

“Don’t ask me about that,” Aelin said, laughing. “Or I’ll ask you why you have a picture of a scowling teenage boy with chains dangling from his jeans hanging up on the wall.”

Rowan groaned. “My mom made me hang that up when I moved in.”

“Oh, you’re a mama’s boy, then?” Aelin teased.

Rowan smiled, but the expression turned fond as he leaned forward that last half-inch and kissed her. It was nothing like any of the kisses they’d shared before; this one was soft and sweet. This one was full of love.

When they pulled apart this time, Aelin whispered, “I still can’t believe you love me.”

“Neither can I,” he replied softly. “I never expected you to say it back. Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t surprised to find you stubbornly knocking on my door.”

Aelin smiled, then tugged Rowan down to the couch, plumping onto his lap. “So now that we’ve gotten the love confessions out of the way, maybe we can try to be in a relationship? Be together?”

Rowan smiled. “I would love that. But I might have to dump you if you ever call me a sweetheart again.”

Aelin let out a choked laugh. “But you’re so sweet. Like a little cinnamon bun.”

“I really hope you did not just say that.”

Aelin grinned. “Now that we have all this sorted, you’ll come back to the company? Nox was good at the job, but he doesn’t have your work ethic, and I had to tell him how to—”

Rowan smiled sadly and interrupted her. “Babe, you would be my boss. We may be able to keep a lid on friends with benefits, but you think no one’s going to be upset to hear you’re in a relationship with me?”

“I don’t care what people think,” Aelin insisted, despite the sinking feeling in her gut.

He tugged her farther onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s still wrong. I can’t do it.”

“But… Rowan, you can’t give up your job for me.”

“I’m not. And if it came down to it, I probably wouldn’t. And neither would you, I would guess, should you ever be in that position. Your dedication to your career is one of the things I love about you.” At Aelin’s sad nod, he added, “But I got job with Salvaterre Enterprises, remember?”

Aelin rasied her brow.

“I wasn’t lying,” Rowan said with a grin. “I got a good position there, nothing worse than I had with you. I’ll miss working with you, but I’m excited to be working there, and I’m excited to be with you.”

Aelin bit her lip. “Okay, but I don’t care that you already got hired. I’m sending a recommendation for you. Not just because I love you—never because of that—but because you are an amazing worker. Besides, I know Lorcan.”

Rowan blinked in surprise. “Lorcan Salvaterre?”

Aelin flashed a grin. “We went to college together. Like you, he pretends to be an ass, but is super sweet.” Rowan scowled, and she laughed. “And he’s head-over-heels for Elide. I’ve been trying to set them up for ages.”

“Wow,” Rowan said.

“Underestimating my connections?” Aelin asked snarkily.

“Just shocked that you have friends with money. After all, you just about swiped my savings last time we played poker.”

Aelin smirked. “Lorcan always paid up in other ways.”

“I really hope you didn’t just imply…” Rowan trailed off.

“Imply what?” Aelin asked innocently.

“Did you sleep with my new boss?” Rowan asked, dreading the answer.

She laughed. “No, I was just kidding. I made him do my homework for a month every time he lost.”

Rowan breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised you would trust someone to control what grade you get.”

Aelin snorted. “Oh, I wouldn’t. I turned in my own work. I just wanted to make him do it for the fun of it. He went ballistic when he found out I never turned any of his hours’ worth of work in. He’s been trying to get me back for it ever since.”

“Um, perhaps I won’t tell him I’m in a relationship with you, then?”

Aelin cackled.

After another hour of chatting and laughing, Aelin decided she would tell her cousin and friends about this tomorrow, and Rowan said he would do the same by calling his mom. She could barely contain the joy that flowed through her thinking that people would know about them, that he cared about her enough to tell his mother already.

The hand that Rowan had resting on her thigh started stroking her, and Aelin started trying to recall what underwear she had put on his morning. Hopefully something nice.

Aelin ground down on Rowan’s lap, and he stood in one sudden movement, pulling her legs around his waist. Aelin sighed against his neck as he carried her to the bedroom. It sure as hell wasn’t the first time she’d been in here, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Aelin smiled into Rowan’s shirt, but that smile dissolved when Rowan threw her onto the bed. She smiled up at him prettily, the epitome of virtuous and wholesome. Rowan just snorted and said, “Take your clothes off and touch yourself.”

Feeling blood race to her face, Aelin sensually stripped off each piece of clothing, a bit more urgently than she’d been attempting to do. It was hard to act sexy when Rowan was shirtless and smirking at her.

Once she finished, Aelin lay back and spread her legs slightly. She let one hand tug on several strands of hair, delighting in the way Rowan’s eyes tracked her hands.

Then Aelin licked her lips and moved one hand to her stomach to stroke the smooth skin. She smirked at Rowan as she moved her other hand to her mouth and sucked on her thumb, making sure he was able to see as her tongue swirled around the digit. Aelin brought her wet thumb to her nipple and rubbed it roughly, parting her lips in a breathy moan.

She noticed the bulge in Rowan’s pants becoming more apparent as she played with her nipple and teased him with the hand moving on her lower stomach, and she grinned. “Get on with it,” Rowan growled.

Laughing, Aelin spread her legs farther and trailed her hand down, pressing a finger into her entrance. She immediately gasped and inserted another finger, unused to having control over when she got what she wanted.

Knowing exactly what she was thinking as she started thrusting her fingers harder, Rowan smirked and pulled his shirt off. No matter that seeing him watching her made her even wetter, Aelin couldn’t concentrate on what she was doing when she looked at him. She averted her eyes to ceiling and started pumping her fingers in deeper, groaning.

But it was not to be. “Look at me,” Rowan commanded, and Aelin had no choice but to obey.

Holding his gaze, Aelin thrust her hips into her hand and and brought the second hand down the rub furiously at her clit. She was moaning now, making more noises than she did when she was by herself, turned on by the way Rowan rid himself of his pants and started pumping his own length.

“Stop,” Rowan ordered, right as she felt release nearing. She couldn’t. She couldn’t stop. She was so close, and just few more thrusts and she would be at the edge and—

Aelin’s hands were forcibly removed from her pussy, and she cried out as she was flipped over on the bed and spanked.

“What did I tell you?” Rowan’s voice was the sharpened edge of a blade, and Aelin shivered.

“You told me to stop,” she whispered.

Rowan’s hand smacked her ass once more. “And did you?”

Aelin whimpered. “No, sir.”

He spanked her again, his hand stinging the sensation flesh of her bottom. “Why not?”

“Because,” Aelin rasped, trying to summon even a single coherent thought, “I needed to come. I needed to.”

“Hmm,” Rowan said, trailing his finger along the curve of her ass. She shivered at the sensation. “But you knew I wouldn’t let you. And look where we are now.”

Aelin squirmed in his grasp. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” He brought his hand down, the slap sound filling the air. “Or are you just saying that so I’ll stop?”

“I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry.” Aelin clung to the sheets, burying her face.

Rowan hummed thoughtfully and spanked her again. But before Aelin could beg him to stop again, callused hands gripped her thighs and spread them, Rowan’s cock filling her almost instantly.

Aelin moaned loudly into the sheets. “Rowan, gods.”

He grabbed her hips, pulling her onto her knees and farther onto his cock. She whined and lifted her ass higher in the air.

Rowan’s grip was bruising as he slammed into her. He started pounding into her, and Aelin wondered how she was supposed to walk into work tomorrow and concentrate on her job, let alone walk at all.

The fingers Rowan had on her hips dug harder into her skin, and Aelin felt even wetter knowing that he was marking her right now. His cock was hardening fully inside of Aelin, and the immense awareness she had of him was driving her crazy.

Rowan’s balls slapped her pussy and she screamed into the sheets, her orgasm forcing its way over her body in a shattering earthquake of pleasure. Rowan kept moving, fucking her senseless as she shook and screamed, finally coming and spilling into her.

Once he separated their bodies and rolled over, Aelin turned on her side and put both an arm and a leg across his body. “I love you.”

Rowan kissed her neck. “I love you, too, darling.”

Aelin snuggled closer and, instead of reflecting on her previous shortsightedness and poor judgment, thought about how much she was looking forward to a life being teased, laughed at, fucked, and loved by Rowan.

Little did Aelin know, Elide would owe Dorian twenty bucks after losing the bet about how long it would take them to confess their feelings. What an interesting day tomorrow would be.

———

Tag List:

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@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

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@live-the-fangirl-life

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@pagemasters

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@theysayitscrazy

@yesdreamblog

#rowaelin #tog #when passion rules the game #my writing

[drake-the-incubus]

/rp

EDIT: Added a read more, the post had been originally written on mobile

For context, unless stated otherwise for the most part, this is the roleplay dynamic.

Ayyy, been seeing some Dream SMP takes on Tommyinnit’s character development that are pretty uh, piss poor. I want to point some obvious things out to people. Especially following the Technoblade/Tommyinnit team disbanding.

Techno isn’t right. Techno was certainly not in the right there, and Tommy didn’t do anything that regressed his character either, his entire character came to a development.

Let’s Start by pointing out that Wilbur has posted their Dungeons and Dragons Alignments, where Techno is Lawful Neutral and Tommy is Chaotic good. (For sake of the post, Tubbo is Lawful Good.)

So I’m going to break down exactly what was going on there and how it developed the characters.

If we go by Technoblade first, I’m seeing a lot of people say he’s better than Dream- he is- and therefore Tommy shouldn’t have left. Which is true, Techno is better than Dream, but he’s just like Wilbur. Watching from Technoblade’s POV, you notice that he starts carrying a book of the To-Do List he intends to do with Tommy. Outlining that he wants to destroy L’Manburg and tried, at almost every chance he got, to convince Tommy to do so.

Tommy said no, he didn’t want to destroy L’manburg, because he cared for it. He outright said no, he JUST wanted his discs back.

Techno concedes, saying Tommy doesn’t have to participate, only after failing to convince him many times.

Techno the entire time, tried to convince Tommy that Tubbo wasn’t his friend, that Tubbo obviously doesn’t care for him. (Not true, as Tubbo literally mourned him and thought he was dead and it destroyed him.) Which is EXACTLY what Wilbur did.

This is an isolation tactic. Techno used ANY means necessary to try and recruit Tommy. Because his character doesn’t care about interpersonal relationships so long as he gets his goal- possibly excluding Phil. His entire character sticks to one set of Morals and set of laws he’s self imposed. (Canonically refusing to truly give up violence).

1. Governments are bad.

2. Governments must be destroyed.

3. The means justify the ends so long as it destroys the government.

Technoblade’s character gets a lot of sympathy, which is cool, but I want to point out while he personally was felt betrayed, he never was.

Techno from the start, was anti-government. Willing to destroy it all so long as another country was never rebuilt. That was his only condition.

Except he KNEW everyone else wanted L’manburg back, that’s what the fight was about. It was very transparent that everyone else was working for L’manburg back.

The three people who wanted it destroyed? Wilbur, Dream and Techno.

Techno wasn’t betrayed, he chose to ignore the goals of his allies until it came time that everyone took back L’manburg. He ignored knowledge that was given to him plenty of times, by Tommy himself even. They wanted L’manburg back. Techno talks of betrayal, but when Tommy points out that Techno betrayed them, he falters and excuses himself.

Which brings Tubbo into the mix. Tubbo was an ally, and he was working with them, WILLINGLY, to give information because he wanted to take down Schlatt and return L’manburg to how it was. He was trapped, scared and wanted help. In the festival, when Technoblade shoots him, THAT is a clear act of betrayal. Techno kills Tubbo, at Schlatt’s orders, betraying Tubbo and Tommy’s trust in him as he worked, clearly, for the other side, against their collective goals.

Techno claims the ends justify the means, and that he was under mild amounts of peer pressure. This is an example of his character. He doesn’t feel bad for hurting his ally, because they got something out of it. If it suits him, he WILL hurt his allies to get ahead in his goals, and he will say anything to justify it.

Tommy’s character cannot agree with this. He values friendship the most, and would give up his goals for his friends, as a true Chaotic Good, he values his friends and the people around him, over any law or morals, and would break his laws and morals for it.

He couldn’t understand Techno shooting Tubbo, because he wouldn’t. There wouldn’t be a force on the SMP that could make him shoot Tubbo in Techno’s place. They have too widely different views, where Tommy values friendship and people, Techno values ideals and goals.

So, we’re not even done and this is pretty long, let’s cover Tommy and the discs. The entire plot device for season one and two.

Tommy’s attention to the discs are goal oriented, to get back his discs no matter the costs, yeah? Except I feel like some of you have no idea where this goal came from. Tommy gave up the discs before, despite fighting for them desperately, so his friends could have L’manburg. He fought desperately, to have those discs back initially, as a war against Dream.

“Before this, before everyone, before L’manburg, it’s always been me and you, against Dream.” Tommy to Tubbo, before the Pogtopia vs Manburg war. (Might not be a true quote.)

This isn’t just a cute little moment, Tommy CARES for Tubbo deeply, they’re some of the closest friends on the SMP. He fought Techno because Techno killed Tubbo. It was personal for him, that is his best friend and he would do anything for him.

Tommy does, do anything for Tubbo, promising that no matter what, it will be the both of them. That they will always be together. This isn’t showing his hero complex, this isn’t a show of some inherent flaw. This is Tommy’s closest and most valuable interpersonal relationship. Chaotic Good Tommy values his friendships deeply.

So when Techno continuously tries to pressure Tommy into believing Tubbo and him aren’t friends, that Tubbo doesn’t care, and so they should hurt Tubbo to get the discs back, Tommy refuses. He refuses over and over again, claiming he trusts Tubbo will give back the disc.

Technoblade uses the framework Dream made, by the way, to accomplish this. He takes Tommy’s fragile mental state and uses that to his advantage. He does what Wilbur does, and almost succeeds. Tommy falters, believing momentarily that Tubbo doesn’t care. Something Dream was trying to convince him of in his isolation. Which isn’t true. Tubbo, upon learning Tommy is dead, is in disbelief and despair.

Let’s talk about the hostage situation for a moment. Tommy tells Tubbo off for not coming to his beach party, and that he was never visited, never received letters, and he was told the same thing from Tubbo as Wilbur said; “I wasn’t invited. I did send you things.”

The broken relationship we see? It’s falsely constructed by Dream. That bond exists still, fractured because someone came in with the intentions to break and destroy Tommy’s interpersonal relationships and manipulate him.

Tommy’s exile arc, was an abuse arc. Tommy was regularly abused by Dream. Techno profited off it, and used Tommy’s fragile mental state to try and achieve his goals, not even trusting Tommy until, in his fragile state, they both threaten Fundy. Techno sees this as commitment to the cause.

Tommy wanted his discs, Techno wanted L’Manburg destroyed.

So when the community house was destroyed, and we get that scene with Techno going with Tommy, they both have a moment. But I’ll address that in a second.

First, Tommy rushes in to defend himself, saying he didn’t destroy the community house. That he was innocent.

Tubbo doesn’t believe him. Why? Because Tommy does this. Tommy destroys things, he burned George’s house (taking the fall for Ranboo), he did plenty of things.

Tommy and Tubbo fight, and Tommy says, “the discs were worth more than you ever were”. This line, I’ve seen it interpreted many ways, one being he used to value the discs over Tubbo, and another being his values as a character.

It’s neither, by the way. It’s a heat of the moment comment, it shocks Tommy into silence, he instantly regrets it. He hates that he said it. Tommy’s goals, in that moment, change, based on his alignment. His goal doesn’t matter, if it’s hurting the people he cares for. It’s hurting Tubbo, it’s time to get rid of the goal.

In that instant, the discs do not matter. They mean nothing. Tommy doesn’t care for them. This is the moment that he GROWS as a character. Instead of obsessively wanting the discs and harming his friends for it, he is willing to let them go so he can foster his friendship. His arc, comes to an end. He doesn’t choose to be a hero again, that’s not what that is. No, he chooses his friend, the one he’s put so much faith and trust into, over something he has realized doesn’t mean more.

He tells Tubbo to give the disc to Dream, because he doesn’t care about them anymore, the sentimentality he has with them and Tubbo mean nothing if he loses Tubbo. Chaotic Good, he chooses the people over his goals and morals (which change on a whim).

Techno, who was using the discs to get Tommy to cooperate, who only recently thought Tom y and him were equals, is enraged because he can’t understand it. He can’t understand Tommy giving up his goal, because he couldn’t. His goals and ideals, they never went away in retirement, he was always wanting to destroy the government, he was planning it behind Phil’s back even. Everything he did was in preparation for a war. I think, even without the execution, Techno would have gone back to his ideals to destroy the government.

Which is why Techno, is angry. He feels betrayed, because once again, the outcome that was obvious happened, and someone stuck to their own words. Tommy would never harm Tubbo, and he wasn’t going to help Techno against L’Manburg.

But Tommy doesn’t do it maliciously against Techno, willing to even try and stay friends, showing he still cared for him. Tommy values his friends, including Techno in that moment.

What Techno sees is Tommy’s betrayal, Tommy broke their alliance because his goal is gone. “Help me get back the discs.” Tommy said when they made that deal. That no longer applies, Tommy was never intending on helping with the destruction of L’Manburg or the death of his friend.

Techno, once again, convinced himself that he would be assisted in his goal despite the vocal outcry against it.

So what does Techno do? He gets revenge. He teams up with Dream immediately.

That’s Techno’s character. Interpersonal bonds mean nothing if they get in the way of his goal, but he doesn’t go out of his way to purposefully destroy them. The MOMENT Tommy isn’t with him, Techno doesn’t have an issue with Dream or what he’s done.

Techno willingly teams up with Tommy’s abuser, because he gets his goal.

Tommy, who still cares for Techno is in shock at this. He sees Techno as a friend, like Tubbo. This hurts him.

Techno, later, even goes on to say he doesn’t care for friends so long as the people he’s with share his ideals, ending into the extreme of his alignment.

Techno has never been a good guy. He’s an antagonist of the SMP. Particularly, he’s not a villain, but antagonist. He’s an obstacle. Not via his person, but his goals.

And he wins, and he tells Tommy, “you never saw me as a person, only a weapon, you betrayed me twice now”.

Tommy, who has seen them as friends, after Techno broke their friendship off the first time with the withers, counters, “and what of Schlatt and what you did to Tubbo”.

Which Techno dismisses as, “in the past” and “it doesn’t matter”. To Techno, it’s not relevant how he treats others, his betrayal to other people doesn’t matter, just the perceived betrayal towards himself.

In the end, Techno is blinded by his beliefs. They controlled him to the extremes. To the point where he would burn any bridge made to keep them.

But Tommy? Tubbo? They gave up L’Manburg, to make their own little place. No vocal apologies were given, yes, and they should address that, but they gave up the country to be together as friends.

And for anyone wondering, Tommy and Tubbo are friends again, through action. Tommy, contrasting his words, gave the discs up to repair his friendship.

Techno, true to his word, destroyed the country and killed anyone who stood in his way. Even going out of his way sometimes to target Tubbo and Tommy.

In short, Techno was a second Wilbur to Tommy, and it shows that some people ignored the subtle manipulation attempts to achieve his goal. Is he as bad as Dream? No, not even close actually. But he’s as bad as Wilbur.

I also want to point something out on ages. Techno is canonically an adult. Tommy is a child, a kid. He’s a kid. The dynamic between them was skewed.

Techno saw a kid, in distress, and in a poor mental state, and tried to manipulate him.

When the kid figured out he didn’t want his goal anymore, he backed out. Techno punished him, by repeating what would be a huge source of trauma for him.

Techno tried to destroy L’Manburg, and succeeded. And he told Tommy that, “you could have just sat out”.

Tommy couldn’t. Because Tubbo is, and always will be, his closest friend. He values his bonds, but he promised Tubbo it was the two of them.

As Philza is the exception to Techno’s alignment, the promise to Tubbo is the exception to Tommy.

There was no betrayal, but a shift in goals and ideals from Tommy, which lead to Tommy and Technoblade no longer needing to be allies.

The narrative isn’t supposed to be black and white, that’s most of the characters. Techno being a big perpetrator of this. The narrative is a morally Grey area, where you can side with whoever you want.

That’s it, that’s the meta.

- Signed, A Techno and Tommy apologist

#Dream SMP #Meta Analysis #text post #Technoblade #Tommyinnit #Tubbo

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Prompt: Skizz discovers Impulse is a traitor early?

well hello there :D hope this is as good as whatever you had in mind! cuz i dont think i got exactly that lol

...

You whisper to impulseSV: We need to talk. ASAP.

Skizz paces back and forth in his room, anxiously waiting for a response. He hasn’t told anyone what he saw yet; even though he knows he probably should, he just doesn’t want to face it. Something inside him is telling him it’s not true, that there has to be a reasonable explanation. He can’t spread this information before he finds out whether or not it’s true.

impulseSV whispers to you: okay, meet me at my villager hole

Skizz jumps into action and rushes out of the building. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, which might be a big mistake.

He runs all the way to Impulse’s villager hole and bursts in through the non-trapped door. But Impulse is nowhere in sight.

Frowning, Skizz spots a trapdoor with a ladder visible under it that wasn’t there before. He carefully climbs down the ladder and finds himself in an almost pitch black underground room, about the same size as the interior of Dogwarts.

Skizz walks out into the middle of the room, looking around in awe.

“Skizz,” comes Impulse’s voice.

“Gah!” Skizz nearly jumps out of his skin. “Don’t do that! Where are you?”

Impulse materialises out of the darkness. “Hey. Did you come alone?”

“Yeah, I did. I gotta talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Skizz takes a deep breath. “I, uh… I saw you earlier today, meeting with the crastle people. I didn’t hear much of what you said, just something about “gaining their trust”. That… Impulse, you’re on our side, right? You’re just pretending to be friends with them?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” replies Impulse easily. Too easily.

Skizz frowns. “Impulse, please tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re not betraying us for THEM.”

“I’m not betraying anyone,” says Impulse defensively. “You know me; I’m not capable of that. You… do know that, right?”

“I…” Skizz stares at his best friend. “A few hours ago, I’d have said no. But now… I think you’re capable of anything. Tell me the truth, Impulse. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, of course.”

“You’re doing it again! Switching on the ol’ Impulse charm and saying exactly what the other person wants to hear. You know that doesn’t work on me, buddy. I’ve known you far too long.” Skizz narrows his eyes. “You’re a mole. You pretended to join us but you’re on their side and you’re gonna betray us for them. Am I wrong?”

After a moment, Impulse wordlessly turns away, all but confirming Skizz’s suspicions.

Skizz’s stomach drops. “Oh, god… I trusted you! You- You traitor!”

Impulse sighs. “This is just like you, Skizz: running over here to confront me alone cuz you couldn’t POSSIBLY fathom that you might’ve been wrong about me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this world changes people? That you can’t truly trust anyone but yourself?”

“No!” Skizz snaps. “I trust Ren and I trust Martyn and Etho and I DID trust YOU!”

“And that’s gonna be your downfall.”

He suddenly shoves Skizz to the ground. Before his friend can react, Impulse brings his foot down hard on Skizz’s ankle.

Skizz screams as they both hear it crack. The pain is immense; it’s definitely fractured, if not broken completely.

“See the thing is, I can’t have you running around blabbing about this to anyone,” Impulse says casually. “But at the same time, I can’t just kill you because that would show up in chat. So I think it’s time I test out my brand new trap and see how deadly it is.”

Tears of pain and anger fall from Skizz’s eyes as he stares into the cold, harsh eyes of the man he used to call his brother. “Wh-Why, Impulse…? Why would you d-do this to me…?”

Impulse just shrugs. “I’m just playing the game, Skizz. Sorry.”

With that, he turns and walks away into the darkness.

“Impulse!” cries Skizz, his vision completely obscured by tears. “IMPULSE! DON’T LEAVE ME! PLEASE!”

He hears the click of a lever being pulled in the darkness, followed immediately by pistons moving. His breathing quickening, he rolls onto his side and pushes himself up, but as soon as he puts weight on his left ankle, he knows he’s not going to be able to use it.

A familiar growl pierces the air, causing him to freeze.

A zombie.

More growls.

A LOT of zombies.

The first one that appears through the darkness nearly gives him a heart attack. He manages to slice it down with his sword, but by then, three more have ganged up on him. Trying to back away, he finds himself completely surrounded by a horde of at least two dozen zombies.

“NO!” he screams. “HELP ME! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!”

The zombies’ claws dig into his skin, and at least two of them manage to bite his arms. Players are able to resist being turned into a zombie through a bite but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Accidentally putting weight on his injured ankle again, Skizz collapses to the ground and curls up in a ball, trying to protect his head and neck. Impulse was clever; he hurt Skizz’s ankle on purpose so he could neither run nor fight for long.

This is it for him. They’re going to kill him.

All of a sudden, a battle yell echoes in the darkness, followed immediately by the sound of zombies taking damage. Multiple zombies taking damage at once. Someone’s come to save him.

The zombies attacking Skizz move away to target this new threat, but they’re no match for whoever it is. Within a minute, all the zombies in the room have been eliminated.

“Skizz!” comes Etho’s voice. “Are you okay?!”

Severely weakened and on the verge of passing out from the pain, Skizz looks up at his friend, unable to muster the words to reply. His vision is swimming, but he can just about see two figures kneeling beside him.

Etho and Martyn. They came to save him.

That’s the last thought in his mind before he passes out.

…

“-is definitely broken. But not like he fell from somewhere and landed on it. More like someone stomped on it until it broke.”

“What?! Who would do something like that?!” “I don’t know. Hopefully Skizz can shed some light on this when he wakes up. Oh my goodness, Ren, you should have seen how many zombies there were. I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

“So… you’re saying someone tried to murder Skizzle? Broke his ankle so he couldn’t get away from the zombies?”

“Yeah, I think so. And we think it was Impulse, too. Etho and I didn’t see anyone else around except him, and the hole was under his villager place as well, so we- Oh, look! I think he’s awake!”

Skizz lets out a quiet groan, his eyes slowly opening. As his vision adjusts to the light, he registers Martyn and Ren by his side, and the interior of his bedroom back at Dogwarts behind them.

“Hey, Skizzles,” says Ren gently. “How are you feeling?”

Blinking slowly, Skizz looks down at his arms and finds them covered in bandages. Beyond them, he can see his ankle elevated in a cast. Nothing hurts anymore, to his relief.

“Alive,” he rasps. “For good or for bad.”

“What happened?” Martyn asks. “Do you remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Skizz tries to suppress a sniffle at the traumatic memory. “It was Impulse. He’s a backstabbing traitor and he tried to kill me to stop me from telling you.”

Ren gasps, but Martyn just shakes his head, an anguished expression on his face. “I should’ve known. There were so many little clues but he explained them away so well, I just…”

“He had us all fooled,” Ren murmurs. “I’m just glad we managed to get to you before he got away with murdering you. If he had, we’d never have known, and we would’ve continued to trust him.”

“How- How did you find me?” Skizz asks. “I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Etho and I went looking for you cuz we hadn’t seen you in a while,” replies Martyn. “We just happened to be at Impulse’s villager pen when we heard you screaming. Luckily, Impulse had just left and I don’t think he heard you, or he might have tried to kill us too.”

His upper lip curls in an expression of disgust. “We bumped into him right there and it was like nothing was wrong. It makes me sick to think that he was up there chit-chatting to us about his villagers like everything was fine, knowing full well he’d literally just abandoned you to be murdered by a horde of zombies. That goes beyond 3rd Life; that’s… that’s just pure evil.”

Skizz nods slowly. “Yeah, something’s not right with him anymore. Whoever that was… it’s not my Impulse. Something’s changed him.”

“Well, either way, at least you’re alive and his treachery has been exposed,” Ren says. “And we will take our revenge on him for trying to kill you. As soon as he’s red, we take him down.”

“Why wait?” asks Martyn, frowning. “Why not kill him now, while he’s on yellow?”

“Because if we do, he’ll harbour a grudge and try to take revenge on US for killing him once he’s red. And if yellow life Impulse is THAT dangerous, imagine what he can do on red. It’s better to wait and come up with a plan so when he becomes red, we can take him out immediately and prevent further carnage.”

A shiver runs down Skizz’s spine. It feels horrible to be discussing killing his best friend when they had been so close only hours before. Despite everything Impulse has done, he doesn’t actually want him to die. He still loves his brother, no matter what.

Even though he’d love nothing more than to punch him in his stupid face right now.

“Skizz?” says Martyn softly. “You okay?”

Skizz clears his throat. “Y-Yeah. I think I will be.”

Eventually.

#3rd life smp #3rdlifesmp #skizzleman #inthelittlewood #impulsesv #rendog #etho #vaunna’s requests

[worstloki]

Concept: Because of going through Ebony Maw's torture repeatedly, Loki has cracks on his skin, all of them spiralling out of where Maw dug his needles in. His body is pretty much covered in cracks, from his cheeks down to his legs. He covers them all with a glamour.

“Brother, you’re becoming predictable.”

Thor crouches down next to Loki who is twitching on the ground, held in place, immobile, by the obedience disk he had attached to the back of his shoulder, just in case the need to manage him had arose. And, it has.

“I trust you, you betray me, round and round—” Thor’s smile drops, and he watches in horror as the blood vessels visible across only half of Loki’s face start to fade from a heated purple into blue, snaking over its entirety, like sharp folds of marquina marble.

Loki’s eyes widen slightly, and his mouth opens in an attempt to speak, though he doesn’t manage any sound except a quickly cut-off choke. He continues convulsing, and Thor averts his gaze over to Loki’s hands, palms partially gloved, only to find the same shades of blue bleeding through, like cracks in his skin; glistening cracks with a silvery outline that doesn’t manage to conceal what those exact blues mean to Loki. Or what they mean to Thor.

Those, as much as Thor wills to think it so, despite the colour, are not the natural markings of Jotun. He has fought Jotnar, and for all he’d been told of Loki being a frost giant he had been under the impression that even small for one, he at least looked as they did.  

The fissures run, outlines in silvery blue, to the tips of his fingers, Thor notes, and they are denser and coalesce through the centres of the palms and the areas directly under the cheekbones, from whence they spiral out.

They also slip under his sleeves and neckline, and Thor refuses to assume anything further than he can see; he refuses to imagine the rest of his brother’s skin divided in a mosaic of pales and blues, a harried patchwork of scars messily painted on, to imagine it a signifier of suffering passed, but also as a reminder infused into his very being. That Loki had been— that he is broken. Thor refuses.

But he has lived a millennia and a half through battles —albeit most on smaller scales than inter-realm warfare— but he immediately knows.

He can recognize torture. 

And he can recognize magic.

And Thor refuses to think what combination of physical and psychological stress could do this to Loki of all people. Loki. The Loki he’d known his whole life to be the most stable, persevering and reserved person in mind. The same who would joke and run his mouth and cause mischief but also the brother he trusted to always be at his side. The Loki he’d pitch to be an unbreakable companion, both in mind and heart, whose mastery of seiðr and knives, however unconventional, were indicative of his strength, his control, his pride. 

And now Thor doesn’t even know why or for how long Loki has concealed this fractured form from him— he doesn’t know if Loki would have ever told him freely. Or if this too would’ve been another family secret carefully constructed to keep him in the dark, to mark him as untrustworthy to know. Another silent battle, locked away.

“You’ll always be a liar, Loki,” Thor concludes, disappointed, knowing what he has said to be true, for who else but a coward would hide something like this? Something Thor may have at a time been able to have helped with, but now has no information nor empathy to spare, not for him.

Thor stands, turning his back to the alarm in Loki’s eyes, the slight shake of his head as if trying to refute the truth Thor can see with his own eyes.

He’s too hurt and angry at another of Loki’s deceptions to care about anything right now. He wants to go to Asgard and salvage what he can of the people he knows, who he trusts wouldn’t conceal themselves behind falsities, especially those of being alright when so much is wrong. 

Thor holds down on the remote in his hand, releasing the obedience disk’s hold on Loki, so that he may recast whatever illusion he no doubt wants to shield himself with, and he walks away, towards the ship.

Thor regrets not waiting till he was further away to relieve him of the pain when Loki’s ragged breathing breaks into voice behind him, and what he’d seen of Loki’s hands flash through his mind’s eye: cracks across his slender fingers and soft palms, cobalt streaks spreading around his wrist, which no doubt grow stronger rather than fainter further up the arm, likely another focal point for the corruption marks at the shoulder, the largest swirls emerging through the base of his sternum pierced through to covet both his back and chest in slivered crevices giving the illusion of shattered glass, another centrepoint a hairs-width above his hips on each side, rifts of blue emerging from the space between the lower thigh and knee in both directions, cracks curling around his feet from the roof of the ankle like vines. And, of course, the jagged cuts of blue he’d seen across his face. 

At the same time he also sees his brother as he’s known him for centuries, whatever he’d show of his entire body always unmarked, the same facial structure, the same bony wrists and hair and softness— but now he doubts how much of that, if any of it, was real. 

Thor closes his eyes hard to hold back the welling tears, as if anything Loki says can be a half-decent attempt to justify— as if any reason could ever be worth forgiveness for dismissively concealing something like this, which has impacted all of him enough for his own magic to taint his body in such a way of defense, to have pieced together whatever parts of him it could, and decide to hold him together so desperately under the distress he so evidently faced alone.

Loki speaks, barely loud enough to make it to Thor’s ears over the sound of the dimming alarms as he walks, almost as if Loki’s words are first and foremost for himself, as if he is the one who needs the comfort of them, and Thor a mere spectator.

“My skin was already a lie; I just added a few words of my own to it.”

Thor’s heart shutters and he feels his resolve crumbling. He ignores the pain in his chest and keeps walking away. 

#i liked the concept 👉👈 #and may have added some lore too #so basically #loki ends up with thanos and the bois #and he's super durable so Maw has plenty of fun with the needles and everything #but #after Loki gets out of his depressed defying-not-having-a-purpose funk his magic (which was already stressed by his emotional roller-coaster #decides that psychological issues of internalized racism but also refusing to die means that instead of the torture killing him #or instead of healing like a normal person #he ends up healing with cracks that are all jotun-y #he heals over all the injuries maw left him with #of course Mr Ebony could just keep cutting him #but... this guy has magic... and he's strong and durable... and his attitude just flipped #he's clearly emotionally imbalanced so why not recruit him instead? #he's proven he can make good of a bad situation and the mind stone loves strong emotions #so just hook him up there #meanwhile loki's stuck with a reminder that it's not just his hand that's blue or another skin #now his aesir one shows his jotun side too #he's just got to live with that now #so he covers it up and deprioritizes it #because that's how we cope #so anyway that's the lore #and yes thor cares about loki but it's more in relation to what changes to loki mean to himself #you can decide if loki still decides to show up to save asgard or if thor's repressed anger at loki made him win the hela vs thor fight #ficlet

[elizabeethan]

Watch the Sunlight Fade: 15 / 17

Emma Swan finds out that her boyfriend has been hiding something from her: he’s in a gang and trying to get out. Reluctantly, she decides to support him, sticking it out with him until they have enough money to flee to Florida. All she has to do is wait and ignore that feeling in her gut that something is seriously wrong. With the help of a kind and handsome stranger, she just might make it out alive.

Or, alternate summary: I’m horrible at summaries, please just read it.

Something of a cross between a What Still Remains AU and a Sons of Anarchy AU.

A/N: get ready for some whumpy aftermath

Rated M

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~~~~

Emma creeps through the building, eyes scanning each door for any indication of Elsa’s whereabouts. Robin told her in haste as she was leaving that Elsa lives in this building, too, but he failed to inform her of what unit she was in. 

 As she walks the halls, a door opens slowly and reveals the face of someone she recognizes and is relieved to see. “Tink, hi.”

 “Looking for El?” 

 She nods. “Killian asked me to make sure she’s safe.”

 “Is he okay?” she asks with concern. Emma almost smiles at how much his friend truly cares about him. 

 “I don’t know,” she shakes her head. “They really hurt him.”

 Her voice is heated. She won’t get past the anger that boils the blood singing through her veins. They hurt the man she loves, and she isn’t sure how she’ll get past that fact without making someone pay. 

 “Well, let’s get the hell out of here so we can get him help.”

 Tink shows her where Elsa’s apartment is and she knocks on the door, answered quickly and coldly. “Yes?” 

 “Elsa,” Emma greets, confused by her clipped tone, less confused to see that she looks entirely unharmed. “Killian wanted me to check on you.”

 She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he did,” she says sarcastically. 

“We have… we have a safe place for you. Come with us,” she tries. She doesn’t actually want to even bother convincing her, but she knows it’s what Killian wants.

 “Safe? You’re full of it.”

 She knew it. Killian feared that she had the information tortured out of her, unable to believe that she could have betrayed him with her own free will, but Emma had a sinking feeling that that wasn’t the case. Now, she thinks she’s right. “You told them,” she accuses. 

 “Yes, I did. He should know better than to try to betray the club like that.”

 “He trusts you,” she tries. “He loves you because you loved his brother.” 

 “I love my family,” she argues vapidly. “Killian tried to destroy it by shacking up with you and killing one of our own. He betrayed Neal, just because he can’t get over what happened to Liam.”

 Tink laughs, shaking her head, and Emma says, “They killed Liam! How can you not see that?”

 “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t see. You don’t know anything; you certainly don’t understand the inner workings of the club or why Peter makes the decisions he does.”

 Her thoughts are swirling in her head, moving too quickly as she tries to straighten out what Elsa says to her. She’s too forgiving, too accepting of what’s happened to the man she was supposed to love. Her actions have been too cruel. Someone who loves Killian wouldn’t have given him up; she wouldn’t be taking such a black and white stance if… 

 “You knew,” she accuses knowingly, without needing to ask. “You’ve known all along that they killed Liam.” 

 With a roll to her eyes, she says, “Liam’s actions no longer reflected his promise to the club. They did what needed to be done, and I understood that-- unlike you. The club has been my family long before Liam came around.” 

 “How could you…” she whispers, unable to say anything more. She can hardly vocalize how horrified she is to learn that someone she thought was sweet and innocent has been working against the people who love her all along.

 With a scoff, she says, “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Go back to your real boyfriend, you slut. You’re lucky he even still wants you after all you’ve done to betray us.”

 “You’re a monster,” Emma grumbles, backing away from her. “I don’t know how you can do this to someone who really loves you.”

 The sting against her cheek is immediate and sharp, Elsa’s hand delivering a solid slap and making Emma and Tink gasp in unison. “The club loves me. They’ve taken care of me since I was a kid. Now get away from me before I tell Peter what you told me about a safe place,” she goads. “Go back home, and maybe you won’t get hurt.”

 “Like Killian did? And Liam?” 

 “They got what they deserved. If you’re not careful, you will, too. I’m willing to look past this transgression, only because I know Neal loves you and thinks you’ll be a good candidate at carrying on the bloodline. But make no mistake; fuck up again and I’ll be taking this little conversation to Peter.”

 Emma couldn’t have convinced Elsa to come with them if she tried, because she wasn’t even able to try. The door slams in her face before she has a chance to get another word in.

 ~~~~

 His surroundings are barely visible before the pain sets in again. 

 It’s blinding, no matter what he does. Opening his eyes is painful. Keeping them closed is, too. 

 He doesn’t need to be awake to know where he is, either. The waves rocking the boat violently give away their location.

 “I think he’s waking up,” someone says with a voice he doesn’t recognize. “Get over here.” 

 “Mate,” he hears from Rob, his voice vaguely recognizable through the fog in his brain. “Killian, come on.” 

 “You shouldn’t have let him sleep. He probably has a concussion.” 

 “You try stopping him.” 

 “Shut up,” he groans, his lip cracking again as he speaks. Each of the men by his side laugh in relief. 

 “Killian,” he hears Robin breathe. “You alright, mate?” 

 He winces as he tries to take in a grounding breath, his ribs protesting vehemently. “Where is she?” he asks, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice. 

 “Who’s that? The one looking for me?” 

 “Emma,” Robin confirms, and Killian forces his eyes open. He only hopes that the look he gives his friend is enough to relay his fear and anger at him telling this stranger anything about the woman he loves. Doesn't he know she’s in danger already? “Don’t look at me like that, mate,” he says, although Killian can detect a hint of relief in his voice at seeing his open eyes. 

 “What did you do?” he asks, unable to expend the energy it would take to say much more. 

 “This is David. You, and especially Emma, might recognize him as James Spencer.” 

 Killian groans as he lifts his head, the crushing pain of his headache almost unbearable. Truthfully, he thought he would be worse off. Sure, he’s quite certain several ribs are broken, and he worries that he might have a fracture or two in his cheek from how many times Cassidy beat on him, but the pain isn’t quite as bad as he expected it to be. 

 It’s still bloody excruciating, though. 

 “Spencer,” he answers, looking at the familiar stranger. “The cop?” 

 He nods. “You’re girlfriend’s good. I’m with the FBI now, deep undercover. I thought we’d buried everything.” 

 “Of course she is,” he agrees, trying to take a breath deep enough to actually fill his lungs. He digs his fingers into the thin mattress and winces. “So, what now? Where is she?” 

 “She’s meeting me here,” Robin tells him. 

 “You left her alone?” he asks angrily.

 “You told her to round up Tink and Elsa. Begged her. I had to get you the hell out of there before they bloody killed you.” 

 “Why the hell would you listen to me?” he grumbles, rolling his eyes painfully. “How long has she been gone?” 

 Looking down to his watch, Robin answers, “About two hours. But she’s smart, she’ll get out of there alright.” 

 He can’t even answer, can’t even tell his friend how stupid it was to let Emma go off on her own, unprotected, before Nolan speaks up. “Your friend tells me you always seem to have a plan.” 

 “Give me some water and something to get rid of this damn headache and I’ll be much more amenable to talking.” 

 He can barely keep up with his surroundings, too disoriented and dizzy and in too much blinding pain to keep his eyes open or to form a coherent thought beyond his worry for Emma. He isn’t even sure how much time passes, how long it takes for the glass of water to appear in his hand.

 “I checked you out,” David says after what must have been a few minutes, the water finally washing away the taste of blood from his mouth. “I have field training. I think you have some cracked ribs, but I don’t think your face is broken.” 

 With a sigh and a roll to his eyes, Killian says, “Well aren’t I lucky.”

 The medication he gives him sets in after a few minutes more, numbing the pain slightly and making it so that Killian can finally breathe in enough oxygen to not feel like he’s drowning. Satisfied with the lessened pain, he takes another gulp of water and says, “Aye, I think I have a plan.”

 “Go on.” 

 “Peter’s on a rampage, ready to destroy whoever he can, but I’m assuming that if you’re here, the Kings of Elsinore must be close.” David nods in agreement. “He doesn’t know they’re coming. He planned to attack them first. Have your gang found the Lost Boy’s clubhouse yet?”

 “No.”

 “Good. We can tell you where to find them and you can set up a raid with the FBI, take both clubs down at once. On one condition.” 

 A particularly forceful wave rocks the boat again, the one that’s all too familiar to Killian, and sends David stumbling to the right. Killian’s stomach flips once more. “What’s that?” he asks once he gets his bearings. 

 Despite his pain, and his desperate need for some chapstick, Killian smirks. “You’re going to help us get out of this mess.”

 ~~~~

 It’s almost midnight by the time Neal finally falls asleep. His adrenaline and anger has kept him up, his anger directed at his plaything being taken from him rather than his girlfriend potentially being hurt before he finally crashes. He hasn’t even noticed her swollen, red cheek, too busy focusing on his rage. 

 She plays it up dramatically, acting like she’s relieved that he finally found out and got her out of the dangerous situation, while also terrified at the fact that it happened. Really, she knows she’ll be having a similar, but still drastically different, exchange with Killian the moment this is over. 

 She takes a final look around the apartment once he’s sleeping, looking for one thing and one thing only and unable to find it. She isn’t sure what he’s done to her only possession; the children’s book is the only thing she cares about aside from her friends' safety. But she isn’t surprised to know that he stole or destroyed it given his complete disregard for her well-being in any capacity. 

 She sneaks out the front door, content to never return, and creeps down the hall towards Olivia’s unit. 

 “It’s time,” she says once she gets there, her voice just above a whisper. 

 As they quietly tiptoe across the dock once they arrive, she briefly wonders how Robin will know of their arrival, before her question is answered for her. He pokes his head out of the cabin of a rather large yacht, and Emma scans the area before hurrying towards him. 

 “You made it,” he exclaims, taking her backpack and helping her onto the deck of the boat. “Where’s Elsa?”

 “Where’s Killian?” she asks, willing to ignore his question and put her out of her mind a bit longer. 

 “Below deck. He’s awake.”

 She’ll tell them about Elsa soon. Right now, she has more important things to worry about, and she can’t imagine bursting Killian’s bubble once again by telling him the truth. 

 Stepping down into the cabin is daunting. The boat reminds her of the clubhouse, weapons on display wherever they can fit. She wonders about how safe that can be, the clubs and knives and primitive looking tools bound to fall eventually with the way the waves are rocking the boat. 

 “Killian,” she exclaims, excitement to see him sitting up on his own taking over her resolve to stay strong for him. The tears are leaking from her eyes before she even realizes she’s about to cry, and she hurries towards him. The last time she saw him, he was so broken that she was worried she would lose him. 

 He breathes her in when she collides with him, wincing as she puts too much pressure on his ribs but not releasing his firm hold on her. 

 “You alright?” he asks her, his lips brushing against her neck as he speaks. Leave it to him to worry about her after he was beaten within an inch of his life. His hand reaches up to touch her cheek, the redness fading but evidently still noticeable enough, at least to a man who truly cares about her. “What did he do?” 

 “I’m fine,” she answers. She wants to crawl onto his lap and hold him in her arms for the rest of their lives, but she knows she can’t. They have to move. “Can we go now?”

 “Where’s El?” he asks, confused. 

 Robin interrupts, not letting Emma answer, and says, “we can’t go yet, unless we want to get arrested. Emma, meet Special Agent David Nolan.”

 Her eyes widen when she looks up and sees a man she recognizes, stunned to have his identity confirmed for her. “James Spencer,” she says, nodding her head. “So you are undercover?”

 “I am. Props to you for figuring it out, although it’s a bit disconcerting.”

 “I didn’t tell anyone,” she shrugs. The agent laughs. “Plus, I thought you were just a cop.”

 “Close enough.”

 “Emma,” Killian says softly, his hand closing around hers and squeezing again. “Where's Elsa? What happened to you?”

 She bites her bottom lip when she looks into his eyes again and is met with his painful stare. It’s unfair that she has to be the one to tell him this. That a woman he thought was his family should betray him like this and she has to be the one to pass the information along and to see the look on his face when she does. 

 “Killian,” she answers softly. “Olivia and I went to her and tried to get her to come with us. We told her we had a safe way out, that we would help her escape. But she wanted nothing to do with us.” 

 He touches her face again, the concern written across his face pulling at her heart. “What happened?” he nearly whispers. 

 “She said some awful things,” Tink tells him. “Emma told her she was being stupid, essentially-- ripped her a new one for selling you out-- and El gave her a good slap.”

 His fingers dance along her tender skin once more as he shakes his head in disappointment and disbelief. “She did this to you?”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you--”

 His lips find hers effortlessly, his touch gentle and delicate and careful not to let things between them get too passionate while they still have an audience. She’ll have to tell him about Liam eventually, but it’s too much right now. He’s so broken, and she worries that telling him that his sister-in-law knew about his brother's death could put him over the edge when he has to focus on healing. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe she would--”

 “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we really should get moving. The SWAT team will be here soon.”

 “SWAT?” 

 “Love, David is planning a raid on the clubhouse. We’re going to give him the club’s location in exchange for our freedom and immunity during any investigations.”

 She lets her jaw drop in surprise, her expectations of their evening completely shattering before her. “Oh shit…”

 “Aye,” Killian confirms. “We just need to figure a way to get them all to the clubhouse. We need Peter to call another family meeting, but me simply being gone likely wouldn’t be enough of a reason.”

 “If I may,” David offers, Emma looking up from Killian’s distracting eyes at him. “Isn’t she the leader’s girlfriend?”

 “She is called Emma, and if you think she is going back there, you might as well just haul me off to jail right now because I’ll bloody beat--”

 “Killian!” she insists, placing her hand on his and squeezing to try and calm him down. “Just hear him out. He might be onto something.” 

 He turns to her, his cheeks flushed in his pain and anger. “I’m not sending you back there! You just left; I’ll die before I let anything more happen to you.”

 She rolls her eyes, but it’s only to protect herself. The fact is, he did almost die in favor of letting anything happen to her. “No you won’t,” she says definitively. She stands from her place beside him and looks seriously at the agent. “What did you have in mind?”

 “Emma--”

 She turns around sharply. “After everything you’ve been through today, don’t you dare tell me I can’t do something to protect you. We can end this, Killian. We won’t be on the run; we’ll be completely free to live the lives we want.” Turning back to David, she asks, “Right?”

 “She’s right,” he agrees, though he’s looking at Killian. “With all of your cooperation, I’m positive I can get you off scot free.”

 “Killian,” she whispers, sitting back at his side and taking his hand once more. “I can do this.”

 “I know,” he agrees immediately with a firm nod, a look of consternation on his pained face. “I’ve yet to see you fail. I just hate that I have to put you through this.”

 “You’re not,” she promises. “I am. And I’ll be fine. I can handle Neal.”

 “Aye, you’ve proven that much,” he smiles, his hand finding her cheek again. His eyes are starting to look heavier and heavier, whatever he was given for the pain taking over his consciousness again. “You’re a mighty strong lass.”

 “You sound so much more British when you’re high,” she laughs, leaning over to kiss his broken bottom lip softly. 

 “I just happen to know you like my accent,” he flirts, and she giggles in response, pecking the tip of his nose. 

 “Alright, my love,” she whispers. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 ~~~~

 “Neal,” she whispers when she arrives in his bedroom. Their plan is a solid one, fully formed and ready to be put into action. That fact doesn’t make her any less anxious. 

 Killian gave David plenty of information on the club before she’d arrived. He told him about the millions in merchandise they’ve stolen, and where to find the pieces and the blueprints for evidence. He told them about the countless murders they’ve committed, including that of his own brother and where his body can be found. He told them about the illegal pornography business they’ve been running, and in exchange, David and his team will look past Olivia’s involvement. 

 Now, all that’s left is to gather the club for a family meeting and wait for the shooting to start. 

 She won’t be there, though. She and Killian made sure of that, making a plan just before he fell asleep and just after David left to make a call to his superiors. 

 “Neal, baby, wake up,” she says, appealing to his distorted senses and shaking his shoulders. 

 “What is it?” he asks grumpily, pushing her hands away. 

 “I found something.”

 He groans and snaps, “Just tell me what it is.”

 She clears her throat awkwardly and says, “I was able to pin Spencer’s last known location. He’s here, in Storybrooke. I think the whole gang is.” 

 He sits up suddenly, his eyes glowing meanly in the moonlight and making her shudder. “An attack,” he says, his tone definite, as if he’s the one who figured this out. 

 He doesn’t bother to even question how she found out, but she’s fine with that. “I think we should ask Peter to call a family meeting. This changes the whole plan, right?”

 “You’re right,” he agrees. “Come on, get dressed.”

 For once in her miserable relationship with him, she happily does as he commands. 

~~~~

~~~~

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#Watch the Sunlight Fade #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan au #cs ff #once upon a time #sunlight ff #ouat ff #whump

[missfangirll]

Let my heart be still a moment

Fandom: SCI Mystery Rating: General Relationship: Zhan Yao/Bai Yutong, Zhan Yao & Zhao Jue Tags: Angst with a happy ending, Case fic Words: 3815 Summary: When Bai Yutong is seriously injured on a mission, Zhan Yao has to find the ones responsible, receiving some help along the way.

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For @the-sassiest-trixster​: You requested SCI, “go ham”, so I really hope you like it, despite it being more bonding with Zhao Jue than love story 😅

- - - - -

“It’s a trap,” is the last thought Zhan Yao has before the explosion hits him and throws him against a wall, his legs giving out from the shock and he drops down to his hands and knees. He can’t hear anything past the ringing in his ears, and feels some liquid trickling down his neck, ruptured eardrums, he thinks dimly. His right wrist feels wrong when he tries to support himself to get up, and there is blood in his eye, probably on the whole side of his face. He tries to wipe at it, only to get more in his eyes, and curses silently. Trying to make out his surroundings, he carefully sits up on his knees, still slightly shaky from the impact. The room they just had entered, an unremarkable living room with a worn bottle-green sofa and a low coffee table, looks quite different than mere seconds ago: Now he can see the bomb that was hidden in the sofa, cables and wires sticking out in all directions, shreds of green and white upholstery floating in the air like giant snowflakes. Miraculously, nothing’s on fire, a fact he should be grateful for, he thinks, when he notices the heap of limbs next to him, and freezes.

He can see at first glance that Bai Yutong is heavily injured, having been the first to enter the room and taking the brunt of the explosion. His limbs are twisted in strange angles, his usually pristine white suit has dark stains that are rapidly growing, and what Zhan Yao can see from his face, the part that is not covered in blood, looks wrong. His eyes are closed, and for the first time since they entered the apartment, Zhan Yao is scared. 

Carefully, slowly, he approaches Bai Yutong on hands and knees, while trying to keep his weight from his injured arm. Reaching him, he extends a hand to wipe the blood from the other’s face, then stops mid-movement and takes his hand instead. Holding his breath, he takes the other’s pulse, readjusting his shaking fingers.

Nothing.

No pulse.

Zhan Yao starts shaking uncontrollably, clutching Bai Yutong’s wrist to his chest, his breathing ragged and almost hysterical. 

No. No, no, no.

- - - - -

His consciousness flickers, and he only vaguely recognises their team members, frantically buzzing around them, before everything turns black.

He awakes to a distant beeping sound and a blinding pain behind his right eye. With a groan he tries to sit up, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his chest.

“Easy there, Professor.”

Opening his eyes doesn’t really help his disorientation, since everything on his right side stays in darkness, while everything on the left is painfully bright. Groaning again, he tries to raise his hand to his face, only to discover it won’t move. Before he can try again with more force, the hand moves to his shoulder.

“Don’t move too much, Professor. You have a shattered shoulder and a shrapnel in your right eye, not to mention the broken wrist, ulna, and cracked ribs.” The voice laughs drily. “You should take it slowly for a while.”

“Yu… Tong,” he manages to croak out, voice hoarse and rattling.

The voice stays silent for a while, then, a shaky inhale. “His injuries… are worse than yours,” it explains, and Zhan Yao feels his heart freeze over. Ignoring the searing pain he turns his head to face the person beside his bed.

Zhao Fu sighs, then removes his hand from the other’s shoulder. In an attempt to look stern, Zhan Yao furrows his brows. Another sigh, then a cup of water appears in his field of vision. Apparently the other doesn’t trust his coordination, because he holds the cup to Zhan Yao’s lips who empties it in three large gulps. The cup is removed, and Zhan Yao makes an impatient noise for the other to continue.

“I won’t lie to you, Professor,” Zhao Fu says finally, “It doesn’t look good. He has multiple broken bones: a fractured skull, both cheekbones are shattered, some broken ribs… But the internal injuries are what concerns the doctors most.” He inhales again, his composure stretched thin over the boiling abyss of fear and worry. “I don’t..” He breaks off, then starts again, his voice raspy, “I don’t know if he… If he….” He trails off, not able to finish that thought, and Zhan Yao turns his head away to hide his tears.

- - - - -

It takes him four days to get out of bed, and five more to leave the hospital for good. All this time, Bai Yutong’s state doesn’t change, and Zhan Yao finds that, after almost a week of sitting by his bedside holding his hand, he has no more tears to cry. His grief has been replaced by a burning anger, and he knows exactly what he is going to do with it.

His first message after leaving the hospital is to the team, calling them to the office this afternoon. The second is to Zhao Jue.

Their relationship to the older man has developed into a strange kind of truce over the last months, and while he still doesn’t trust him, he knows what Zhao Jue is capable of - which is exactly why he asks him to meet.

Walking up the winding stairs to the loft always feels like climbing a lighthouse or an ancient castle, were it not for the strange paintings on the wall that only worsen his headache with their spiralling, whirling patterns.

Zhao Jue seems to be informed about the situation, since he comments neither on the eye-patch Zhan Yao is still wearing over his damaged right eye nor on the sling on his left arm, or his slightly limping gait, for that matter. He just nods in greeting and gestures towards a sofa, resuming to pour tea into two cups, then following Zhan Yao to the seat.

Only after they have finished the tea in silence and Zhao Jue has refilled their cups, he speaks. Clearing his throat, he asks simply, “Who?”

Zhan Yao exhales slowly, thinking what he can safely tell the other who is technically a wanted serial killer without compromising any police secrets, then shrugs inwardly and begins to talk. He tells him about the abduction case that had shocked the whole city into frantic activity, about their only lead being a shady witness, waiting for his own prosecution for human trafficking in a city prison. He had offered to give them information in exchange for a reduced sentence, and his leads had sounded reasonable, nothing indicating he was lying or setting them up. He had given them a name which in turn had led them to the apartment. Now it is obvious it has been a trap from the beginning, but who is behind it all, that Zhan Yao isn’t sure of. The witness didn’t look intelligent or influential enough to pull such a maneuver from a prison cell, which only leaves someone directly involved in the abduction.

Zhao Jue listens to these explanations without a word, only now and then stirring his tea cup with his ring finger. After Zhan Yao finishes, he stays silent for a while, looking thoughtfully at the younger man. Zhan Yao has laid out his cards, he thinks, now he waits for the other to show his hand.

Zhao Jue clears his throat again. “What do you want to do?” His voice sounds soft, gentle, betraying nothing of the steel Zhan Yao knows to lie underneath.

He almost shrugs, then remembers his shoulder and winces slightly, noticing how something like worry crosses over the other’s face, before he resumes his indifferent mask. It’s a good question, however. The next natural step would be to interrogate the witness again, to get him to spill some names, places, anything that could help them pin down the ones behind the bomb. The latter would be another lead to investigate, but it has already been transferred to the department that deals with explosives - and has a real lab, not that there is anything wrong with Gongsun and his experiments, but even his enthusiasm can’t replace a centrifuge. The problem is, though, that interrogating the witness-turned-suspect a second time has been the first thing Zhao Fu did after leaving the hospital, and unfortunately to no avail. The man had simply refused to talk, stating he already had helped them and didn’t know anything about a trap or a bomb. Thus, all their leads have gone cold.

Sighing, Zhan Yao shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he admits. Zhao Jue raises an eyebrow, but stays silent while Zhan Yao continues, “I could try interrogate the witness again, but the chances that he talks to me are--”

“He will talk.”

Zhan Yao startles at the interruption and closes his mouth with a snap, staring at the other.

“He will talk,” Zhao Jue repeats, and it’s with a finality that makes Zhan Yao shiver involuntarily.

- - - - -

He does talk.

It takes twenty minutes until Zhao Jue emerges from the interview room with two names scribbled on a yellow post-it note. The suspect is still sitting at the table, pressing his hands to his ears, rocking back and forth, mouthing silently. Zhan Yao remembers Bai Yutong’s still form in a hospital bed and doesn’t feel sorry.

Zhao Jue wordlessly hands the note to Jiang Ling, then grabs Zhan Yao’s uninjured shoulder and steers him towards his office. Closing the door behind him, Zhao Jue lets go and takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrow in a silent invitation to talk. Zhan Yao bristles, but before he can snap at the other, a call from outside draws their attention back to the case.

“Professor, we found something!”

Without a word, Zhan Yao rushes past the other man who follows him after a second’s hesitation. He isn’t sure if he heard the other sigh, but ignores this detail for now. On the large screen, the two names Zhao Jue got from the suspect are displayed, next to the persons’ photos and information. Chen Shen, the left file reads. Fifty-three, suspected to be involved in the local drug trade, divorced, his daughter studies drama in London. The right side of the screen is almost empty, Zhan Yao notes with a frown. The woman in the blurry photograph looks a bit over forty, wearing a suit jacket and, oddly enough, a tie. Apart from her name, there are no further details. Zhan Yao turns to his team, a question on his lips, when Wang Shao explains, “Her real name is Zhang Qi,” and Zhan Yao whirls around to stare at him. That name is familiar, well-known in all law enforcement, for being the supposed head of a trafficking ring that specialises in little girls. There has never been so much as a rumour to tie her to anything, nothing that could be proven, and police and criminals alike are equally afraid and astonished.

Zhao Fu is the first to break the silence. “If she is involved in our abduction,” he says slowly, massaging the bridge of his nose, “then the girl is likely out of the country by now.” The rest of the team nod in begrudging agreement. 

A chuckle from the door startles all of them, and several chairs turn around swiftly to face the intruder who adds cheekily, “Seems I’ve arrived at the perfect moment.” Stepping into the room, Zhao Zhen reveals three large boxes which he carefully deposits on the nearest desk, grinning widely. “I think you all need some sugar before you decide anything important,” he declares, and Zhan Yao’s heart clenches at the sight of his team, who give him sideway glances, smiling hesitantly. He isn’t the only one who worries, he realises, and forces his face into a smile. “Alright,” he nods, “let’s have some sugar before we continue.” 

The donuts do help, and after a few minutes, Jiang Ling approaches Zhan Yao with wide eyes and powdered sugar on her cheeks. “Professor,” she exclaims, “I just had an idea how to find the evil lady.” Zhan Yao looks expectantly at her, only to receive a headshake. “It would probably take longer to explain it,” she shrugs apologetically, then adds, “I’ll just try it now, if that’s okay,” and Zhan Yao can only nod.

Soundlessly, Zhao Jue steps out of a corner and Zhan Yao startles. He still isn’t used to his right side being blind, and the other moving without a sound doesn’t help. He almost reprimands him, when the older man grips his shoulder once more, this time not to move, but to make him stay and listen. Zhan Yao shuts his mouth with a snap.

“You should go,” Zhao Jue says quietly, and Zhan Yao doesn’t have to ask where. Knowing the others will call him, he just nods, and turns to his team, but before he can form a word, Ma Han makes a shooing motion at him and sighs. “We can deal with this, Professor,” she says, sounding a tiny bit impatient, something Zhan Yao would definitely address if he had any brain capacity left for it. So he just nods again, and is out of the building and in a taxi in less than two minutes.

Bai Yutong’s state hasn’t changed in the two days Zhan Yao didn’t visit him, nor has he moved. Zhan Yao stands in the open door, looking at his mouse, wondering if he has ever seen him this still. Carefully, slowly, he approaches to sit in a plastic chair next to the bed, taking the other’s cool hand in his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

On the way here he thought about what he might tell his mouse, about the case, about the progress, but now that he sits here he finds himself not able to speak. Silently, he caresses Bai Yutong’s hand with his fingertips, then his face, then bends down to lean his forehead against the other’s, closing his eyes. 

I miss you, mouse. Come back to me.

- - - - -

His ringing phone disturbs the quiet and for a moment he feels disoriented, misplaced, before he clumsily fumbles for it and takes the call without looking at the name.

“Let’s have lunch,” Zhao Jue says without introduction, and Zhan Yao is too stunned to protest. “The diner at the corner, opposite the park. Ten minutes,” he says, and hangs up. Zhan Yao stares at his phone screen for a second, before he scrambles to his feet, presses a kiss to Bai Yutong’s cheek, and heads downstairs.

When he arrives at the diner, Zhao Jue is seated in a booth in a dark corner, a steaming cup in front of him. Zhan Yao slides into the seat opposite him, careful of his injured shoulder. He notices that the other has chosen their seats so that Zhan Yao’s left side faces the room, his blind spot towards the wall. 

When the waiter comes to take their order, he mindlessly lists a few things he remembers to have liked, then fiddles with the menu for a while. Zhao Jue gives him a pointed look, but doesn’t comment. When their food arrives, they eat in silence, Zhan Yao trying to savor the taste. 

It is only after another cup of tea that Zhao Jue asks, “How is he?”, and Zhan Yao feels his shoulders slump. 

“Unchanged,” he answers eventually, not able to fend off the image of his mouse’s lifeless face, and shivers.

“And how are you?,” the other asks, and Zhan Yao blinks at him in confusion. Since it has been apparent that his injuries weren’t as bad as Bai Yutong’s, every and all attention had been on the latter, even Zhan Yao’s own, so it takes him a moment to really parse that question. “I will be fine,” he offers after a while, because it is the truth. The doctors were optimistic that he would be able to use his eye again, his shoulder is healing, as well as all the countless other minor injuries and cuts he has sustained. He will be fine, eventually. It’s not important. 

“That’s not what I asked,” Zhao Jue observes, and Zhan Yao freezes, mouth open in an aborted response. “I asked,” the other clarifies with a scrutinizing gaze at Zhan Yao, “how you are. Not how you will be.”

Zhan Yao blinks slowly at him, then closes his mouth. “I..,” he begins, then pauses. How is he? His head hasn’t stopped hurting since the moment he woke up in the hospital bed, his left arm isn’t usable at the moment, which makes getting dressed in the morning a complicated ordeal. But not being able to see is the worst, he realises, no matter how optimistic the doctors are, no matter how much worse Bai Yutong’s injuries are. He sighs and slumps further into his seat, leaning slightly against the wall. “Not that fantastic,” he admits. “I have had a headache for a week and my arm is pretty much useless. But I’ll live,” he tries to make light of it, when Zhao Jue reaches over and presses his thumb to Zhan Yao’s temple, his index finger on his forehead. Before he can protest, the searing pain dulls to a numb throbbing behind his temple, and he shudders in relief. “How..,” he starts, but Zhao Jue just hums, pulling his hand back. 

Before Zhan Yao can respond in any way other than stare at the man opposite him, his phone rings. When he ends the call, Jiang Ling having told him she has news, he finds Zhao Jue has already paid for their meals and waits at the door, silent as always. Hurrying after him, Zhan Yao realises, not for the first time, how little of the other man’s motives he really understands.

Jiang Ling has earned her bonus this time, and beams at Zhan Yao when he tells her that. In fact, her discovery is worth a dozen bonuses. Zhan Yao understands only a third of her enthusiastic explanations, but it’s enough to be deeply impressed by the nerdy woman. She somehow managed to link a delivery of expensive, imported bath oils to an office building in the middle of nowhere, realising nobody would take a bath at their workplace - only certain kinds of workers, Wang Shao helpfully adds, which earns him a slap upside the head from Zhao Fu - and then finding the actual purpose of the building and its owner’s name: Zhang Qi. 

Zhan Yao is delighted to finally have a clue, but his eagerness is dampened by Wang Shao’s question. “And what exactly are we going to do now?”

Of all the people in the room, Zhan Yao wouldn’t have expected Zhao Jue to step forward.

“I might have an idea.”

His idea is, even Ma Han has to grudgingly admit, actually quite reasonable. They have to investigate the office building, that much is certain, but the only one to have a chance to stay undetected - and be fine in case they don’t, but that is a detail no one mentions - is in fact Zhao Jue. So, some hours of preparation later, Zhan Yao, Zhao Fu and Zhao Jue are crammed together in an SCI observation van, the older man in a bright orange pest-control uniform. 

“Remember,” Zhan Yao begins for yet another time, when the freshly-made exterminator directs a grin at him that makes him uneasy. Nodding, he says seriously, “I don’t know who you are and what the SCI is,” as if this is what they have been talking about for an hour. Horrified, Zhan Yao tries to interject, when Zhao Jue grabs his costume props, opens the door and hops down. With a wink to the other two, he marches off towards the office building.

Zhao Fu groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I really hope this wasn’t a mistake. The boss is going to murder us if this goes wrong.”

Zhan Yao nods silently. 

Before they left the SCI, he had taken Zhao Jue aside, determined to get some real answers out of the other, but all he had received was a grin and another question, asked with sparkling eyes and quiet amusement in his voice. 

“Do you trust me?”

Zhan Yao hadn’t had it in him to deny it. 

When it’s all over, Zhan Yao doesn’t ask how Zhao Jue managed to get past fourteen heavily armed guards, doesn’t want to know, but somehow the other did, and he found the abducted girl. Next to twenty-seven others who have gone missing from the whole country during the last months. 

When the storm has calmed, the girls have been brought to the hospital and the guards inside arrested - all of them suspiciously pliant and agreeable, but nobody had asked, and Zhan Yao sure as hell wouldn’t mention it either - Chief Bao holds a press conference, obviously enjoying the spotlight on himself and on his department. Zhan Yao tries to stay in the background. It doesn’t feel right to stand there alone, so he doesn’t at all. 

They can’t exactly tell the media that the one having solved the case is a wanted serial killer who recently escaped prison, so Zhan Yao is for once glad for the Chief’s need for recognition. On the way back, Zhao Jue looks at him with a knowing gaze, but doesn’t say anything, and Zhan Yao tries to focus on something else.

With the older man’s help - and probably more than just a bit of coercion from Chief Bao to make sure the SCI were the ones to interrogate them - the culprits arrested in the office building spill their secrets surprisingly easily. They all name Zhang Qi as the mastermind behind the whole operation, giving even more names and addresses that were used to move the girls around, providing so many details that Bai Chi brings in a whole box of new ledgers to write in after the first afternoon. It’s a day later that one of them admits to building a bomb and hiding it in a sofa in an empty apartment, all of this on Zhang Qi’s orders. 

After Zhang Qi and her inner circle are arrested, Chief Bao invites all of them to dinner, even Zhao Jue and his nephew, who both actually show up, even if one seems significantly more delighted than the other. Zhan Yao observes in silence, meeting Zhao Jue’s gaze over the animated talks and happy atmosphere at the table. He nods in acknowledgement, and the other smiles slightly.

- - - - -  

Bai Yutong wakes a day later, in the late morning, the sun gently caressing his features. The first thing he does is to reach out to Zhan Yao, weaving his hand into the other’s hair and pulling him in. Their foreheads resting against each other, Zhan Yao takes his first deep breath in weeks.

#sci谜案集 #sci mystery #sci #zhan yao #bai yutong #yaoyutong #zhao jue #my writing #angst with a happy ending

[t-lostinworlds]

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [2]

A/N: First off, i would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support on part 1, it truly means the world to me <3 second, i am so sorry for the long wait but here we are! thank you for your patience you kind angels! Hope you guys like this as much as the first aha! x

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom realises what you two had and everything that he wasted. He realises he needed to fight for you and that he can’t lose you for good. But will he be able to make things right and have you back in his arms again or will it be too late?

Warnings: heart wrenching angst, a lot of crying from both persons, a bit of fluff but it’s flashbacks and typos?

Word Count: 14.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

NOTE: Flashbacks are in Italics

-:-:-:-:-

Where does Tom start?

Well, he can start with the fact that he's miserable. The fact that he's a disgusting piece of shit who deserves nothing but to be miserable, no less, maybe more.

You were so good to him, too good. You treated him more than he deserved. Even after what he did, even after he betrayed you, never did you treat him any less of man when in fact, he deserves to be treated like shit.

With a heart as kind as yours, when you showed him nothing but pure love, how could he have done what he did? A question so heavy as Tom asks himself as to why, but only ends up empty, it only ends up unanswered.

This makes him feel even more stupid. A downright disgrace given that he's ruined something so precious and special all for nothing, not even for something remotely worth it.

He could say he did it for sex, which is really rotten no matter the circumstance, doesn't make things better even by the littlest bit. But even then, it still wasn't worth it. He threw away so much just for sex? What a shallow reason to destroy such a beautiful relationship isn't it?

Quite frankly, nothing he will ever say will make things better. Not a single reason would justify the way he broke such a kind heart that gave him nothing but blissful happiness, gave him the truest forms of love.

The damage has already been done, he's already destroyed everything, hearts and trusts turned to nothing but fractured pieces.

Just how could he? How could he have done that to you?

You didn't deserve any of it.

All the times he's ignored you, made you feel unwanted. The countless times he's pushed you away and hurt you with his angry words. Hell, just the fact that he's made you feel like you weren't enough was a crime in itself.

Tom has been with you for three years, three fucking years, and during that time you had always been enough, more than enough. But that's the thing, realization and regret always comes last, always comes when it's too late.

You only realize just how much something is worth until you lose it.

It's been hours since you left, and Tom feels so utterly lost.

You we're his true north and now that you're gone, he was lost. Lost on where he'll go from here, lost on what to do, lost on who he's become.

A part of him knew he should've chased after you, but then what? He doesn't know what more he could say. He was still in deep doubt if he was fixing things or breaking it further if he continued to run his mouth. He at least needs to get his mind straight, get himself together or he'll say something that will make things even worse than it already is.

Tom sulked in bed right after everything, right after he heard that front door shut. He let himself drown in his tears and his regretful thoughts, both overwhelming him to the point that he passed out without even realizing.

Now, here he was, fully awake but still in bed. The sun was on its highest but Tom had no clue what time it was. With a broken phone, there was no way of telling unless he moves to grab a watch. But he doesn't really feel like moving. He just wants to rot in bed — or in hell as he rightfully deserves — and do absolutely nothing.

The whole house was eerily quiet and very cold, and he doesn't want to explore its state when he knows how it was coated with so much warmth before, your warmth. Was this how it felt for you when he doesn't come home? If so, then Tom feels even more of a shitty person than he already is.

But the world won't stop its course just to wait for him now won't it? So despite it all, Tom willed himself to get up and out of bed with a heavy heart, pushed himself to at least do the next right thing, whatever it may be.

Feet dragging against the tiled floor, Tom reached the living room with a broken sigh. His bloodshot eyes landed on the number of frames on top of the fireplace, photos upon photos of you and him, his frown deepening as the pain squeezed at his heart.

He walked over and took one in his hand, the one where Tom had an arm wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners as both of you smiled wide and bright, the calming view of the Grand Canal just behind you as you explore the wondrous city of Venice.

The photo was taken by Harry during the shooting of Spider-Man: Far From Home, where you traveled with him and supported him from the first day to the very last.

It was such an innocent picture, mundane even, but so many memories came flooding inside Tom's mind with one simple look. And slowly but surely he was reminded how it used to be, how happy you both were just being together. Tom was reminded how special, how real it was, what you two had.

It doesn't even end with just the pictures, the whole house was a constant reminder too all the things he's wasted, all the beautiful things that made him feel nothing but pride and joy, utter euphoria to have such a wonderful woman in his life.

The whole house that was littered with all things you, from every room to every hall, from your precious laughter to the gorgeous sounds of pleasure that once bounced off the very same walls. Tom can still hear it, replaying inside his head loud and taunting to not let him forget each blissful memory that composed of you and him.

But now it's tainted by his blatant mistake, spoiled by his scandalous choices and he will never be able to forgive himself for that.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom wiped the tears that slipped down his cheek with the back of his hand. He brought the frame up to his shirt to rid of the droplets that coated the glass, returning it back gently, carefully in sheer fear that he'll break it if he wasn't cautious enough.

Tom knows he owes you countless amounts of apologies, and at least a proper closure. He wasn't going to let last night be the end of it all, he knows he needs to talk to you. He needs to answer whatever question you have, and tell you what he truly feels. He just knows that the demons in your head are relentless. In whatever way he can, he needs to appease your mind with nothing but honesty so that it won't eat you up from the inside out.

He won't be able to live with himself even more if he just leaves you to blame yourself for his choices. And he's not going to stop until it sticks with you that this was nowhere near your fault. This was all on him, and he has to make sure you understand that loud and clear.

So right after he's bought a new phone, he drove towards the only place he knows where you'll be.

***

"Come on guys, open up," Tom tried again, knuckles rapping at the wooden door for the tenth time.

He's been outside the twins' house for roughly fifteen minutes now, and it's either no one was home or they were ignoring him. He figured it was the latter for obvious reasons, and he was proven right when he heard rushed footsteps on the other side when he gave the door another knock.

"Go away Tom, I genuinely don't want to deal with you right now," Harry fumed, boiling anger evident in his tone, a dead giveaway that he was well aware of what had happened.

Did Tom really expect his brothers to be calm about it? No, not even by a little. If he fucks up, they're the first ones to put him back in his place. And now—well, now he fucked up very badly.

Too add to that, the boys care about you a lot. It's been such a heartwarming thing for Tom to see you grow close with them, to see them accept you as part of the family. He understands why they're angry at him and they have every right to be.

"I know she's in there. Just open up, please," Tom sighed, palm flat against the surface as he waits for the lock to click open. Harry scoffed at that, voice muffled due to the door that's still in the way. "She is, but what gave you the idea that she wants to see you?"

That stung, but Tom also can't say he was surprised. Hell, he can't even look at himself without grimacing, so he wasn't expecting any less from you. He wasn't expecting things to go smoothly at all with the weight of his actions.

"Look, I get why you're mad at me. But Harry please, I just need to talk to her," he begged, but still to no avail as his brother growled in response. "What part of 'she doesn't want to see you' do you not fucking get?"

Tom was running out of patience, especially now with his emotions all over the place as with his mind. It was crowded in his head, very loud and obnoxious, just pushing and poking until he felt his anger bubble slowly. And before he could stop himself and take a deep breath to stay calm, his voice boomed,

"Just let me in damn it!" Tom's fists hit the door harshly, his emotions overpowering him to the point where he's becoming rash with his actions. He wasn't frustrated at his brother by all means, he was frustrated at himself. After all, there was no other person to blame why everything in his life has gone to absolute shit.

"Oh go and fuck off!" Harry barked, just fuming at the fact that Tom had the audacity to show his face at his house and give him attitude.

"I'm your fucking brother!" Tom knew that was a bullshit come back but he tried it anyway, he'd try anything at this point, growing desperate with each passing second.

He just really needs to see you. He needs some sense of familiarity, someone to ground him back, someone who's going to tame his mind before he losses it completely. That someone has always been you, his sense of peace, his rock.

"Ah yes! Please do remind me Tom because that's the only thing stopping me from going out there to break your fucking teeth you asshole!" It was obvious that both brothers were now feeding off of each other's emotions, voices loud as they go back and forth, and it was only a matter of time before one explodes which well then make things take an awful turn.

"Jeez Harry, calm down for a second yeah?" Sam's voice interrupted before things start to escalate further. What Tom heard next was fairly inaudible, but he can picture the twins arguing, just hearing the exchange of muffled voices. Then a few seconds later —much to his surprise — Sam opened the door.

Tom met his brother's eyes, a breath of relief coming out of him. "Thank you Sa—"

"Don't thank me, this wasn't my decision," Sam said solemnly with a stoic look on his face, a dissatisfied tone in his voice that Tom was quick to catch. "She's waiting for you in the garden," his brother added, stepping out of the way to let Tom in. He locked with Harry's angry eyes on the way, Tom's frown deepening as he tries to say something, to basically apologise for yelling when he has no right to.

"Harry I—"

"Just fucking walk," his brother sneered, tone ice cold. All Tom could do was nod as he pressed his lips into a thin line, walking pass the twins with his head hanging low in shame. Though never did he miss — nor will he forget — Harry's death glare and Sam's disappointed gaze as he made his way towards the back door.

***

The loud bang on the front door and the yelling was what you woke u—no, the fact that the loud voice belonged to Tom was what woke you up.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for, and to be honest, you could still need a bit more.

Last night was still clear as day inside your head. Everything that had happened you remembered as detailed as it can possibly get, from you reading that text message to then running out the house and calling Harry to come pick you up. You knew fully well you weren't in the right state of mind to drive, and you were glad that he didn't mind at all.

Sam came with him, both sporting their worried looks once they pulled over and saw your state. Though they didn't ask any questions once you got inside the passenger's seat, neither pushed to give you air to breath, them only knowing that Tom did something terribly wrong by the way you were crying on the phone.

The three of you just drove around the city for a while, windows down with the music blaring to try and get your mind off of it as much as they can. Both ordered pizza and opted on eating in the car that was parked near the River Thames, looking out into the gorgeous view of the Tower Bridge as it shines its lights in the night. You talked about anything and everything but the elephant in the room—well, car.

You only poured everything out to them when you got back to their house. Full on balling on the couch as you try and form a coherent sentence on what just happened. First they were surprised, unable to believe that their brother could do such a thing. Then you saw the anger cross their features little by little, more so with Harry than Sam. You've traveled with Harry quite a lot, you were a little closer with the boy due to the time spent together, but not by much of course.

They offered you the guest room right after, said that you can stay for as long as you need to. They both were real sweethearts about it, and you owe them a lot for keeping you sane for those couple of hours. You couldn't stomach to imagine what you could've done if they weren’t there.

You thought you'd just let them handle Tom, to not come out of the room until he's gone. You have no idea what more you could say or do if you see him again face to face, especially when everything that has happened was only in a span of under twenty-four hours. You were still overwhelmed, a complete mess both physically and emotionally.

But when you heard just how angry Harry was and how Tom was close to reaching there as well, you couldn't just sit still and let the problem grow even bigger. You can't let yourself be the reason that would cause a tear in their relationship with each other. Because by the end of everything, they're still brothers no matter what.

So slowly, you got out of bed, treaded into the living room where you found Sam sat on the sofa. His leg was bouncing anxiously as he listens to his brothers argue, clearly torn on what was the right thing to do. You walked up to him with a small smile, surprise crossing his features once he saw you awake.

He quickly said that he'd try and talk to Tom and make him leave, assuming that you are uncomfortable with him around but you only shook your head no. You told him it's okay to let his older brother in and that you'll just wait in the back garden for whatever it is he wanted to talk about.

Although relunctant, Sam didn't question your decision further. He just pulled you in for a warm embrace before flashing you a reassuring smile and then walking towards the front door.

Once sat on the wooden bench that was right on the back porch, you kept your gaze steady on the greenery in front of you, back facing the house as you tried to clear your head as much as you can. Basically to organized your thoughts and emotions. The cold evening breeze was helping to calm your nerves, your eyes following the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of the bushes, the hum of the wind invading your ears in the most soothing way. It was a serene sight, so comforting, and slowly you felt yourself relax.

But the moment of peace was soon cut short, your eyes screwing shut once you heard the sliding door open and then close. His footsteps were light but the sound was already deafening for you, as if the rest of the world turned mute for you can only hear his shoes hitting the pavement, just ringing in your ears as you waited in anticipation.

Tom sat down beside you with a hold of his breath, heart aching once he saw your tear-stained cheeks, once he noticed how you kept your eyes tightly closed, purely refusing to look at him for even a split second.

His fingers started to fidget as nerves started to consume him. The action was also in a way to stop himself from reaching over to take your hand, to just feel your skin on his, because oh how much he's miss it, how much he's miss you.

He wasted a month of not holding you, of not getting to truly touch you, and he so badly wanted to pull you closer to him now, to make up with the time lost. But Tom wasn't going to push his luck, not going to over step boundaries because he wasn't in the place to make such decisions, not anymore. He knows that there were so little of both left that if he gets too near, he might end up pushing you farther away. He wasn't going to risk it.

On the way here, he's thought about all the things he was going to say to you. He repeated his speech over and over inside his head even though his words were a jumbled mess. It was something at least, a start. But now that he was seating here with you just a couple inches away, Tom's mind has gone blank. With the hundreds of words he's planned on saying, his lips could only let go of one.

"Y/N..."

You could pinpoint so many things with just the simple call of your name. The guilt, the longing, the regret, even the adoration, it was all there. Having known him for a while, you have gotten good at reading him, even if it's only from his voice, from the highs and lows to the different tones. But that was before, now, you weren't so sure if you actually ever knew him at all.

"What are you doing here Tom?" you asked softly, eyes opening with a sigh but still avoiding his at all costs. Tom ran an anxious hand through his hair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he kept his gaze trained on your beautiful face, smile gone and glow dimmed out, but still so beautiful in his eyes nonetheless.

With a deep breath, he spoke, "I-I came here to apologise, for everything. I know it won't do much but I'm not going stop saying how sorry I am. What I did was so fucked up and I am so sorry darling, I really am," Tom paused and waited for you to get a chance to respond. But when you kept looking forward, when you didn't even move a single muscle, he sighed before adding. "And I just need you to know that this is all on me, none of this is your fault, please keep that in mind Y/N. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

You nodded with a shaky breath, and as you gathered all the strength you could muster, slowly you turned to face him.

The look in your eyes only did nothing but sharpen the pain in Tom's chest. Your once joyful orbs were now bloodshot and full of hurt, all because of him. The more he stared into them, the guiltier he got. The weight of what he's done so evident in your gaze, reminding him of all the promises he broke, reminding him just how much he's broke you.

"Do you have feelings for her?" you asked after a few moments of silence, bottom lip trembling despite trying your best for it not to. Tom shook his head with a deep frown, "No, I don't."

He knew where this was heading. You were going to ask him the questions that's been nagging inside your brain, and Tom was going to answer each one with the truth, no second guessing, just pure honesty.

You shifted in your seat, clearing out the lump that formed in your throat before speaking. "Was she better than me in bed?" you trailed off.

Tom couldn't help but wince at the fact that you've thought about it. He felt so disgusted at himself for such an awful deed, so revolted for putting that image inside your brain.

"No. She doesn't compare to you. I'm so so late on realising this but she doesn't make me feel things the way only you can," he answered truthfully, but you looked away.

You just couldn't hold his gaze. To stare at those brown eyes you once called home, those eyes that used to make you feel safe, it's just a sharp stab at your heart knowing that those same eyes betrayed you. It took everything in your power to not break down, unable to think further about everything without bursting into endless tears, unable to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Tom saw this, he saw it in the way you looked at him for that split second, how you just don't trust him anymore. And oh does it hurt, but what did he expect?

You picked at your fingers nails as you kept your head low, trying your hardest to hold yourself together, concealing everything in. But you were grasping onto broken pieces, your heart and mind all fractured, too fragile. The harder you try to keep them as one whole piece, the deeper the cuts you inflict on yourself.

And the picture of him with another woman, touching her in a way that he used to touch you, it feels so vile, an agonizing torture for your already broken heart, and you don't know how much more of the pain you can handle. You don't know how much more you can endure before everything finally falls apart and becomes too damaged to put back together.

But what if that was the right thing to do? What if it was needed to let everything fall apart, to loosen your grip on the broken pieces of yourself for the wounds to heal, for you to be able to start anew? Maybe all you need is for everything to break down completely so you can build them back up, stronger and better.

"She's more beautiful than me isn't she? Has a better body? More talented? She's simply just better than me?" you croaked, trying your best to keep it together. But you were almost there, almost at the point of just letting the whole thing go, to let every emotion come flooding out, the bad and the ugly.

"Fuck no," Tom protested, rubbing a palm across his face in anger, entirely directed at him for planting that thought inside your head in the very first place. He hates seeing you like this, so hurt and full of doubt for no other reason than because of what he did. Tom wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to take it in himself. He's the one who deserves to suffer, not you, never you.

With a deep breath, Tom tried to keep his emotions steady, gaze still set on you — despite it not being returned since you kept looking forward — his voice soft as he continued, "I know my words don't have any weight for you right now but believe me when I say that you will always be the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both on the outside and the inside, from your heart, to your mind and your soul. You are a gorgeous, wonderful and amazing woman Y/N. Please don't doubt that because of the stupid mistake I did."

The moment you locked eyes with him again, Tom's breath got caught in his throat. Your eyes coated with question, utter distress and seething anger, but the pain, God the pain, Tom can feel it sharp and deep in his bones.

Tears fell from your eyes as tried your best to keep your voice steady, but you just couldn't, with the all the different emotions boiling deep inside, you just couldn't.

"Then why Tom? Why?" you sobbed, Tom's heart shattering at the agonizing sound.

He sat straighter, eyes turning glossy but it never left yours, brown orbs boring into your own. "I-I wish I could give you a good enough reason why I did it but I really don't know. All I know is that I was stupid and it was a huge mistake. I realise that now, a little too late but I did. I took what we had for granted—I took you for granted, and I will always regret it until I die."

"You're just saying the things I want to hear." You shook your head with a soft whimper, breaking his gaze as you shut your eyes, enabling more tears run down and coat your cheeks.

"No darling, look at me," Tom croaked, taking the risk as he reached over to take both your hands in his, and you let him, no flinching, you let him touch you. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he gave it a squeeze, a silent way of asking you to look at him.

A shaky breath came out of you at the feeling of his warm skin, your tear-filled eyes meeting his own once again, seeing nothing but transparency as he spoke, "I haven't lied to you from the minute I sat here. It's hard to believe, I know. But I swear on Tessa's life I'm telling you the truth, every single word I've said."

Tom moved closer, fingers nervously fiddling with yours as he tried his best to keep his tears at bay. "I-I really do want you back. I want you to come back home, I want to hold you in my arms again but after everything I've done to you, I understand why that won't ever happen. And y-you deserve someone better, so much better than m-me," he choke back a sob, bottom lip trembling at his last sentence.

"You hurt me Tom, so bad," you whimpered, voice laced with so much agony, no more holding everything in as the strong façade you've been putting on crumbles.

To see you break down in front of him, your hands shaking in his grasp, nothing but utter pain coating the dips and valleys of your face, that was all it took for Tom to crack. His tears now streamed down his face, falling freely one after the other as his emotions came crashing through like a tidal wave.

"I-I know darling, I know and I'm s-so fucking sorry," he spluttered, feeling his throat close up as he tried to blink away the tears, to rid of his blurry vision so he can see you. He just wants to see you, cherish every second since he has no idea if there would be a next time after this.

Then delicately, Tom lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm sweetly, all adoringly before he placed it flat against his warm and damp cheek, leaning into your touch with a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry angel," he whispered, voice filled with pure regret and guilt.

You remained silent, still looking into his eyes but you kept still, not knowing where you'll go from here. But then Tom lets out a nervous sigh. "And I want you to know that I—" he cut himself off as cleared out his throat, eyes staring deep into your own before he spoke with absolute sincerity,

"I love you."

Your lower lip quivered with a soft cry, eyes closing as shook your head at him. "That's the first time you've said that to me since you came back home," you said, breath unsteady as you replay those three words inside your head.

Eight letters tied together giving you an overwhelming feeling. That's what it does when you haven't heard those words escape his lips in a long time. And oh how you missed it, you missed hearing him say it, but what did it cause for you to hear it again? Too much, way too much to the point that you were unsure if the words hold the same true meaning as before, doubtful if it meant anything at all or if he just casually threw it in there for the sake of it.

Tom nodded regretfully, letting go of your hand as he went to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly, your eyes opening at the feeling of his skin on yours. "And I wish I could've said it to you more often because I truly love you Y/N. If I could go back and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. If I could go back in time I'd tell you over and over just how much you mean to me, how important you are in my life. I'd tell you every hour of every day just how much I love you."

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom leaned forward until his forehead was now resting against yours. His proximity was intoxicating, the tips of your noses were almost brushing and you thought it would be too much, but it wasn't. You welcomed it, the feeling of being so close to him because after everything, his eyes still have the hold against you, Tom will always have a hold against you.

"I love you so much darling and I fucking hate myself for not showing you that enough, because you deserve nothing more than to know that you are loved, to feel that you are loved. And I am so sorry for failing you at both." he whispered, and with one look into his eyes, you knew he was being genuine, his voice was trembling but still, you can hear it, feel it inside you that he was being honest.

But was that enough to make you feel reassured? Was that all enough for everything to go back to the way it used to be?

No, it wasn't. It wasn't enough to let your heart win over your brain.

"I just need space to think, I'm sorry," you muttered softly as you pulled your face away from his grasp, letting out a small sniffle before crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, to hold yourself in a way. Tom felt his whole chest ache, but he didn't protest. He lets you go despite not wanting to.

"No, it's okay love and I completely understand. I wasn't expecting you to just jump back in my arms when I came here. I just really needed to say all of these to you." Tom shot you a small, broken smile before he lowered his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

Silence hung in the air for a few hellish seconds, turning awkward, deafening with each tick. And when you didn't say another word, Tom took that as a sign, took it upon himself to draw a conclusion.

"Uhm—yeah, I-I think this is my cue to leave," he muttered under his breath and stood up from his place, giving you one last glance to see you only spare him a nod, eyes looking anywhere but at him. With a defeated sigh, he started to walk away, but before he could reach the door, your voice stopped him.

"Tom wait—"

He immediately spun around with hopeful eyes to see you on your feet, already facing him with a small frown. Tom was ready, eager to run to you, to hear the words he so desperately need, to kiss you with all that he has as you take him back. But just as how quick he built that hope up, it was slapped away in an instant when you spoke again.

"Can you pack my stuff up for me please? I-I can't—I don't think I can go back at the house," you breathed out, eyes meeting his as you shifted from one foot to the other. "Just my clothes and toiletries, you can throw the other stuff away."

Tom's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. The thought of you unable to go back to the house, your home, it was heartrending but there was no other person to blame for that. He searched your eyes, tried to read any hesitation on your face, because he can't accept it. He can't bear to fathom the thought of getting rid of each trace of you in the house. Tom won't be able to handle it because it feels like the final nail on the coffin, after it's done then there's nothing more to go back to.

But when he saw nothing, when he saw that you do in fact mean it, that it is what you want, he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Anything you need love."

You nodded somberly, "Just leave it in the front porch and I'll get it once you're done."

No more words were said after that, Tom unable to slip in a response as you turned your back on him. And with a gloomy sigh, he pulled the door open and went back inside the house.

The moment he reached the living room, the twins both stood up from their places on the couch, both sporting worried looks as they watched their older brother walk with his head hanging low.

"Uhm, thank you for looking after her and I'm really sorry," Tom said as met his brother's eyes. The boys saw a glimpse of what happened outside, and by the look on Tom's face, they knew that their brother deeply regrets what he's done. If anything, he needs them more now, and what harm will it do when they cut him some slack? Tom was already beating himself up black and blue, he doesn't need more of it from everyone else, especially the ones he truly cares about.

Sam was the first to approach him, a sympathetic smile plastered on the lad's lips as he gave him a comforting hug, a loving pat on the back before moving out of the way. Harry came into view next, hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily as he said, "I'm sorry for being an asshole earlier." Tom shook his head at him with a faint smile. "It's fine Harry. I deserved it."

His brother tilted his head to the side with a sad smile, moving closer to pull Tom in for a warm embrace. "Take care of yourself," Harry muttered. Tom lets out a shaky breath as he gave his brother a squeeze.

"I'll try."

***

It was so hard packing your stuff up. The fuller your bags got, the heavier Tom's heart grew. And it took him so long to get it done because he just needed to take a breather in between, the ache in his heart overwhelming him to the point that he can't stop his tears from free flowing.

On a slightly brighter note, he does have a sweet girl to comfort him, a precious staffy who'd lay her head on his lap whenever she hears him stifle out a few tears.

Tessa was supposed to stay with his parents for a couple more days, but Tom couldn't endure being alone in the house. So, he cut her little vacation short and stopped by at their house on his way home right after you two had the talk. Tom told them what had happened, disappointed looks unavoidable but they still gave him a much needed comfort and a few heartfelt advice, and for that he was grateful.

He drove home and went straight to bed right after, tried to get some sleep but struggled to say the least. But after a few doses of alcohol and a couple more tears, exhaustion took over him eventually.

Now it was midday, the rays of the sun shining through the bedroom windows, wrapping the space with warmth but Tom wasn't mirroring the mood, the clear blue sky unable to lift his spirits up.

He was sat on the floor of your shared closet, eyes trained on the already empty shelves. He stared at it for a couple seconds before his gaze fell right beside him where your suitcase was situated, now filled and entirely full.

Tom blew out his cheeks as he reached over to zip it up, the sound unpleasant to his ears, unbearable that his eyes screwed shut to keep the tears in. His head was already pounding; he figured crying some more wasn't going to help.

After a few calming breaths, he felt something nudge at his arm, lids shooting open to see Tessa with a stuffed animal in her mouth. "What have you got there?" Tom asked sweetly as he took the toy from her grasp, heart aching once he saw what it was.

He looked back at Tessa with a small smile. She's a clever girl but Tom just knows the dog was properly confused as to why he was packing her mummy's stuff up.

It pained him to think about it, that he would have to try and explain to her why you'd be no longer around. Tessa loves you quite a lot, absolutely attached that the pup tends to look for you first each time she's back in the house, a jab at Tom's ego but he adores it nonetheless. Hell, she explored each room when they got back last night, a soft whine coming out her once she didn't find you. And now to come and reflect that you two were going to be separated all because of him, it's just an addition to the guilt that was already filling him up to the brim.

Tom pulled her close to his side lovingly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered on her skin with every ounce of remorse,

"I'm so sorry princess."

***

As he sat on the steps of the front porch, Tom's heart and mind were running a hundred miles per second. Your packed up things were sat on his left while Tessa laid flat by his right. The sweet girl still had no clue why they were outside, just sitting and doing absolutely nothing. But Tom was in much need of some company, and she's always happy to give him that.

He'd sent you the text few minutes ago, saying that it was all done and ready to be picked up. It did cross his mind that he wasn't going to do it, that he'll just keep your stuff here so you won't be able to leave, but that's just downright cruel, selfish and disgusting, so he quickly shut the thought down. Now he was left to wait anxiously, fingers picking at the fabric of the stuffed animal that Tessa lent him earlier.

It wasn't long after when a familiar car pulled up into the driveway, his heart hammering even more at the sight of the vehicle. Tom stood from his place with a shaky breath, dread slowly seeping through his skin at the mere thought that it genuinely was happening. That you were really leaving and it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

Tessa perked up when you and Harry came out of the vehicle, the pup not wasting any time as she bolted straight towards your direction. You crouched down to greet her with open arms, a small giggle escaping your lips when Tessa showered you with her kisses.

Tom's heart stuttered at the sight, a feeling of adoration spreading in his chest, but only lasting for a split second as it was quick to be replaced by one with grief. His heart felt like it was getting torn out of his chest at that thought that he might not be able to see this wholesome interaction ever again.

You walked over to the front porch with an unreadable look on your face, Tessa trailing right behind sporting a wide smile as she kept her gaze on you, tail at an all-time wag, still oblivious to what was happening.

"Hey," was all that Tom managed to get out, his heart warming a little at the sight of you, but ached the moment he noticed your puffy face, bloodshot eyes meeting his as you flashed him a faint smile. "I'm taking my car on the way back, so uhm, I think I left the keys inside," you explained, fingers nervously fiddling at the hem of your hoodie.

Tom frowned at that, but he already knew you weren't stepping inside anytime soon. You did ask him to pack your stuff up for that sole reason. To add to that, he also kind of expected that you were going to say that too, so he fished your car key from his pocket and handed it to you.

"I saw it laying on the counter so yeah," Tom trailed off, eyes still set on you as you took the key from him with a slight frown, and when he saw this he panicked. "Fuck, this looks I'm kicking you out or that I'm looking forward to you leaving and came prepared. I'm not. I figured that you would take your car too that's why I have the keys prepared, not because I want you to go, because I really don't want you to go," he rambled before he could even stop himself.

You stared at him for a full second or two, contemplating on what to say — or if you should even say anything at all — but with much thought, not wanting to say the wrong words, you opted on staying silent as you only nodded at him with a hum.

"I think this is everything," Tom cleared his throat to fill up the silence, cheeks all warm and red as he gestured towards your bags. "If I forgot something just let me know," he offered shyly.

You were about to move, to take your things and get this over and done with but before you could even do so, Tom spoke again. "And uhm, I don't know if you wanted to keep him but—" Tom revealed a very familiar stuffed panda from behind him, holding it out for you to take—or not—with a nervous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the toy, frown unconsciously deepening as you took it from his hands.

It was the stuffed panda he won for you during your first date at a carnival. You remember it vividly, his grin wide and proud, eyebrows wriggling as he offered you it with a curtsy. Such a memorable night filled with hearty laughs, screams from terrifying rides, clouds of cotton candy and a handful of friendly competitions. The night then ended with him dropping you back home, and as cliché as it can be, with a sweet goodnight kiss at the front of your door, leaving you both smiling like idiots as he drove away.

After that night you had a feeling that there was something special about this boy. And months down the line, you realised you were right as he was quick to snatch your heart without much effort.

You'll always cherish that day, the simpler times as some would say, and the very panda you held in your hands now was a huge reminder of that. Was there any harm in keeping it? You're not sure. The memory does fill you up with genuine happiness, but then the pain follows soon after as you're reminded that it was once like that. The thought that the memories wouldn't be added with more, it hurts, deeply.

But as you looked at the toy again, you don't have the heart to throw it away. You don't have the strength to give it back either, so you held it closer to your chest as you looked back up to see Tom already staring at you in a certain way, a slight gloss coating his brown orbs.

That's when you knew he thought about the same thing too, remembered that same night, that same exact memory. You both held each other's gaze with such intensity, a slight hint of longing in each other's eyes. There were still so many words left unsaid, you both saw that. But neither of you spoke, neither of you dared to move a muscle.

The tension in the air only grew from there, almost turning awkward. That until Tessa nudged at your leg, making you break eye contact with the man in front of you to look at the pup with a curios yet sad smile. You were unsure if you're going to see her precious face again, and gosh it stings. She's your baby too and in no way do you want to leave her, but sometimes the right decisions requires a bit of sacrifice.

"Spend some time with her. Harry and I will take care of your stuff," Tom spoke as he gave you a reassuring smile, already knowing what's going through your head with just a simple look in your eyes.

You gave him a thankful nod, your own lips curving up and Tom felt his heart melt. It was small, didn't reach your ears by all means, but it's genuine, the warmest smile you've given him since everything that has happened.

With one last look at you, Tom took as much of the bags he can carry and made his way towards Harry, who was leaning on his car with his phone in hand. When the lad heard Tom approach, he smiled, helping him set the bags on the floor before pulling him in for a warm hug.

"You look like shit by the way," Harry joked as pulled away and went to open the boot of the car. Tom scoffed playfully at that. "Thanks bro, feel like it too."

Harry tilted his head at his older brother, hand coming up to give his shoulder a squeeze, making Tom meet his eyes. The brothers shared a smile, Harry not needing to say anything for Tom already knew what he was trying to say, that Harry is there for him, as he always is.

"How is she?" Tom asked softly, continuing the task at hand of loading your things in the car. "Still the same," Harry sighed sadly.

The older brother lowered his head with a deep exhale, just utter guilt filling him up from head to toe. His eyes were now staring at the last bag set on the ground, tears welling up again as reality starts to creep on him.

"Hey, she's a strong girl. She'll be okay. You both will be," Harry reassured and all Tom could do was nod. He wasn't sure if was going to be okay after all of this, his future blurry without you in it. But a brave face he can manage, taking in a deep breath as he placed your last a bag in the boot.

He looked back at the front porch to see you sat on the top step, both hands cupping Tessa's face as your lips moved. Tom could make out the glisten on your cheek, the light of the sun reflecting against it, chest heaving in a way that's had your hands slightly shake. He watched you pull Tessa in for a hug, your eyes screwed shut as you placed a loving kiss on top of her head, the pup giving you one big lick on the cheek once you pulled away, her way of returning the gesture.

Tom's heart took at big swing at the sight, a shaky breath coming out of him as he kept his eyes steady on his two favorite girls, bidding their goodbyes despite not wanting to, but having no choice because of the horrible things that he's done.

He caught his sniffle with a clear of his throat, quickly wiping away the tear that managed to slip with the back of his hand as you stood from your place and made your way towards them. Tessa was following you still, demeanor now different as she looked at your figure with a tilt of her head, almost with a frown.

She was definitely still a bit confused, but Tom has a feeling that she knows what was going to happen, and he will definitely have to hold onto her when you... when you leave.

"Everything ready?" you asked, voice a bit hoarse with the obvious tear lines on your cheek but neither boys said anything about it. "Yeah, good to go," Harry answered when his brother stayed quiet. Tom's eyes elsewhere just so he won't become a balling mess yet again.

"Okay, uhm thanks Tom." His head shot up at the mention of his name, flashing you a forced smile with a curt nod to match.

He tried keep at it his silence as he watched you walk to your car, just knowing his emotions would betray him the moment he opens his mouth. Plus, he genuinely doesn't want to make things harder for you again for putting more things in your head to think about. But the moment you opened the door to your car, he couldn't stop himself, he knew he needed to say something.

"Y/N wait—" Tom called out, walking closer towards you, though when you turned back around to face him, he hesitated. He contemplated if it was worth a shot, if he should at least try and ask. But when he took in your frown up to your glossy eyes, the glow and joy on your skin all faded, he inhaled a sharp breath.

"Take care of yourself," said Tom instead, not the same words that were stuck on the tip of his tongue, not the words that his brain wanted to scream into the open.

"You too," you mumbled, quickly getting inside your car, making Tom miss the expression that crossed your face. The car door slamming shut followed by the silent roar of the engine, drowned out the shaky breath you let out, eyes never meeting his again.

There was a simple question not asked. A question that could make things turn around, make this day have a better outcome, but Tom didn't dare to spit it out. He held himself back thinking that it was for the best.

He crouched down to take a strong hold of Tessa's collar as the two cars backed out of the driveway. The pups heartbreaking whines filled Tom's ears, the sound making his tears run down his cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

There were still words were left unsaid, but there was nothing more he can do with them now as Tom watched your car disappear down the street, eyes steady on the vehicle until the only thing left to see was the skid marks of the tires of your car on the pavement, a reminder that you were once here but may never return again.

***

A week has passed and Tom wasn't feeling any better. If anything, his life just turned shittier with each day gone without you in it.

The house was a complete mess, more so his bedroom with all the crap that's lying around. Said crap ranging from bottles of alcohol – some empty, some half-full – the broken glasses he has yet to pick up, dirty and clean clothes mixed up on the floor, up to the random food wrappers that decorated the area.

Hell, he hasn't even taken a shower in days, that's the state he was in right now. Tom also had to ask his mum to pick Tessa up a couple days ago, given the fact that he can't even take care of himself. Plus, he didn't want to stress the poor girl with him constantly being down in the dumps and more.

Long story short, he was a broken mess, both physically and emotionally. And the light at the end of the tunnel seems too far away where Tom doesn't even believe if it's there to begin with.

But despite wanting to rot in bed for maybe another week or two, to drown in his self-pity basically, he received a few emails that were too important for him to simply shove aside.

So, an hour-long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes later — and a few pain relievers to help with his headache — Tom made his way outside his room only to look for his computer. Once he found it just on top of the coffee table, he held it in his hands and went straight back to the bedroom.

He couldn't bear to stay outside with the sun shining all bright, especially with it accompanied with the clear blue sky. The beautiful day just makes him feel bad about everything, makes him feel worse about himself. Tom felt more comfortable staying inside the bedroom where the curtains were all closed, the space dark and gloomy to match his mood.

Plopping back down on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, he placed the computer on his lap, taking in a tired breath before turning it on. Much to his surprise, he stared right at a photo of Tessa and him, confusion filling him up at the sight of the lock screen because that wasn't what he set it as. His lock screen was of you and Tessa, not him.

Sure enough when he tilted the laptop up, there he saw your initials written on the bottom surface. A frown made its way onto his lips as he realised that he might have given you his computer instead.

You two have the same computer and the only way to tell which one was who's without seeing the contents, was by the initials on the bottom. And just as cheesy as it can get, you were the one who wrote his initials while he wrote yours. Kind of like an autograph, hence why Tom was staring right at his handwriting, as if it wasn't obvious enough that this was in fact your computer.

At the time you both thought it was just cute and silly, a simple gesture for couples in love. Never did it cross Tom's mind that day that looking at it would bring hurt. But now it does, the gesture turned into remembrance, a mere memory of what it used to be.

He was a mess when he packed your things up. It wasn't unlikely that he missed to check which computer he gave to you. But what confused him was that a week has passed yet you hadn't contacted him, nor did you ask the twins to fetch it for you if you still can't bear to see him again.

It could've been that you haven't noticed yet or could've been something else. Tom has no way of knowing as he hasn't spoken to you since. He does know you're still staying at the twins' house courtesy to Harry, but that's about it.

He was about to reach for his phone to contact said lad but he accidentally pressed on the keys, screen now showing your desktop. Tom frowned with a shaky breath, a picture of you two on the beach glaring right at him. But what caught Tom's attention more was a certain folder, the name too long that he had to click it to show the rest.

B-ideas (If by any chance you're Tom please do not open this folder you're gonna break my heart if you do bub)

That only perked his curiosity even more. And given that he's already broke your heart due to something far worse, he double-clicked it to open. What more could he lose?

Tom felt a sharp stab at his chest as he scrolled through countless amounts of photos of different kinds of cakes, certain venues, and lovely decorations.

B-ideas... Birthday ideas.

He screwed his eyes shut, hand going up to pinch the bridge in utter frustration. First it was your relationship with Tessa, even his family for that matter, and now his birthday. What else did he ruin? Well, aside from the obvious anyway. How many times will he have to be reminded about all the things that are affected due to his mistake? Not enough apparently.

You always loved to plan his birthdays for him. He adored how you always get so excited to ask him a few things or when you keep it a secret as much as possible for it to be a surprise. You've made him the happiest boy every birthday. You make him feel even more special and he was glad to have you by his side each time. But now, he's ruined it by a long shot and his birthdays will never be the same.

As he reached the bottom, Tom found another folder within the folder named: For Slideshow (Gift)

Tom dared to open it as well, the pain in his heart only magnifying at the sight of old photos and videos of you and him. There were a few from all around the world — during the whole press tour to be specific — but most of it was just here in London or right at this very home.

You always went the sentimental route when it comes to his gifts. 'You can buy anything you want now,' as you've said. And despite him telling you that he won't care where you got it from – whether it from Tesco's or whatever – as long as you're the one giving it, then he will cherish that gift with all his heart. But of course, you just had to go the extra mile by making sure it was handmade by you. Whether it's a handwritten letter, a collage, or whatever cute thing it may be, you have never failed to make him emotional with each one, a tear or two shed every birthday.

It looked like you were going for a video compilation this year judging by the name of the folder and the contents of said folder—well, what you were supposed to do but it's not happening now, is it?

It was such a trip down memory lane, just photos upon videos, mostly candid, some intentional jump-scares and a few cheesy yet funny ones sprinkled here and there. The one video that caught his eye first though was the one where it had you and him kissing on the thumbnail.

Tom recognized it right off the bat. He remembers that day clearly to this moment. It was from the set where Harry filmed Roses for Lily, where you and Tom helped with all the little things. And his assumption was proven right when he pressed play...

"And that's a wrap everyone!" Cheers erupted around the field followed by applause as Sam and Sophie took a playful bow.

"Connect it to the speaker and play it on my cue," Tom whispered against Harry's ear, confusion crossing the younger lad's face before Tom jerked his head towards you. Harry shook his head at his brother but took his phone anyway, getting so used to his cheesy ass antics.

This wasn't your greatest week regarding work and school, even more so today. So, Tom thought head lift your spirits up in the cheesiest yet sweet way he can managed.

You were talking with Nikki when Tom suddenly came up to the both of you with an expression that you didn't quite read, hands behind his back as he stood with immense posture.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh no, what are you up to?" you asked suspiciously.

"Will you do me the honour of granting me this dance mi lady?" Tom offered his hand with a curtsy, voice sporting the most posh accent he can muster with a cheeky smile plastered on those pink lips.

You shook your head with laughter at your boy. You turned to look at the woman who you were having a conversation with, only to see her give you two thumbs up with a wide smile, and with that, your gaze landed back on Tom sporting a smile of your own.

"Pleasure is all mine kind sir." You mimicked his accent and took his hand, fits of giggles coming out of you as Tom dragged you towards the front of the bench, the view of the field endless behind you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours as his other hand took home on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder, just like a proper ballroom dance. "We don't even have music you dork," you pointed out the obvious, to which Tom only grinned all proud.

"Says who?" He shot Harry a nod and not long after the soft tune of 'The Way You Look Tonight' by Frank Sinatra filled your ears.

You threw your head back as you let out a loud yet hearty laugh. "You're a huge cheese ball aren't you?" you teased.

"Oh please, you love it," Tom flashed you a knowing smirk as he then starts to swing to the tempo of the music. He guided you with gently care as he spins you out and then pulls you back in again, his background in dancing making it easy for him to lead the dance.

And you always admire this talent of his, adored it with all your heart as you break out to random dances – may it be silly or slow – around the house whenever to whatever music. It was not new to you so you can easily follow his rhythm having dance with him before. Plus, the steps were simple enough for you to catch. And having known each other for a long while, it was easy for the two of you to move in sync.

But then he started to sing, and that caught you off guard.

"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm; and your cheeks so soft; there is nothing for me but to love you; and the way you look tonight."

You can't stop your grin from growing at his sweet voice, heart warm as you stared right into those beautiful brown orbs. Tom doesn't sing much often, not seriously anyway. But when he does, it makes your heart melt ten times over and then some, because the boy can definitely sing.

"Am I wooing you darling?" Tom cooed with a wriggle of his eyebrows, earning yet another laugh from you. And with him being all cheeky with his timing, you didn't get to respond as he continued to sing,

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose; Touches my foolish heart," Tom sang with a cheeky wink, the smile on your lips ever growing that your cheeks we're starting to hurt, but you could care less.

"Lovely, never, never change; keep that breathless charm; won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you; just the way you look tonight,"

He kept singing, not for but to you, dedicating each word, meaning each note that the smile on your lips was impossible to wipe off. Not to mention the simple yet lovely dance, bodies swaying sweetly to the music, it was just like a scene from a movie.

Tom twirled you around courteously, pulling you back closer to him that had both your arms resting over his shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around your form, noses delicately touching as you two mirrored each other's eyes, nothing but the look of love coating them.

And when you nudged his nose adorably, Tom chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaning closer until his lips captured yours in a charming kiss. A kiss so blissful that your hearts were filled with nothing but warmth, spreading from head to toe as you kept dancing to the slowly fading music.

Both of you were unaware that Harry recorded the whole thing, making the little dance, the sweet gesture as pure and raw as it can be. Just two couples in love, cherishing each other's company, adoring one another with everything that they have...

Tom lets out a strangled breath as the video stops, trembling fingers hovering over the space bar as he stared at the still of you, warmly wrapped in his arms, absolutely content, delighted and purely in love.

Next thing he knew, Tom found himself watching videos upon videos of you and him, endless clips that showed just how happy you two were, how happy you made him. Each video showed him the way you use to glow, smile bright as day while your eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, a blissful expression on your face and oh how stunning it looks on you. Pure happiness suited you so much and Tom took that away. He took away your shine; he snuffed out that radiance you always bring whenever you're in the room.

He only decided to stop when Tom felt his chest tighten harshly, breath turning uneven as his eyes started to burn. He was about to close the laptop, to set it aside and give himself a breather, but then he saw another one with a thumbnail that has only you in it. Despite being too emotional, despite deciding that the torture was enough, his curiosity was stronger. So, he played it...

"...right, is this recording? Yup, it is, okay."

You sat back on the chair after you adjusted the camera – which Harry kindly let you borrow – on the little desk you had in yours and Tom's shared bedroom. "It's a little too early to make a video message since your birthday is months away but I've got nothing better to do so," you trailed off, adjusting your hair before sitting up and smiling at the lens.

"To the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armour, to my handsome prince," you paused with a scrunched of your nose. "Oh gosh too cheesy. Okay, reel it back, whew, okay, Thomas, spider-boy—well, more like spider-baby..." You let out a laugh at that, shaking your head at yourself before taking in a deep breath and looking back straight at the camera.

"To the absolute love of my life, Tom, happy birthday. Oh now, where do I start? Well, I can start with how proud I am of you. The fact that you've achieved so much in so little time? I couldn't be any prouder. You're the most hardworking man I know, it's not really a surprise how you got to where you are today. But despite all the accolades, the awards you've won — and soon to win — there's always one award, well two actually that's far more important than the rest. First one is you-being-such-an-incredible-human award. You, Tom have the kindest most compassionate heart I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I could list so many great things but then we'd be here all day, just ask me it later and I'll send it to you in post," you giggled. "But trust when I say that you are a true hero, even without the mask."

"And well, the second award, oh gosh, it's the best-boyfriend award. Forgive my cheesiness — although you do like it — but it is in fact true. You, Thomas, you make me the happiest girl ever. I—oh no here comes the water works," you joked, fanning your eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. And when you felt like you can hold it together, you continued,

"I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You've always been there for me through the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't think I could've made it pass things without you Tom and for that thank you. Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin. For being my shoulder to cry on when I really need one, for being such a great listener and for being my rock. Thank you for helping me through the hardest times bub," you paused to take a deep breath, eyes glossy but with a proud smile on your lips nonetheless.

"...granted our relationship isn't perfect, we've had our disagreements and petty fights but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I wouldn't trade you for the world, Tom. I am happy to be with you, so content with what we have. We've laughed together, cried together, we've grown together, and as promised, we're going to be there for each other, always." you let out a soft giggle to try and clear the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly to keep it in, though it already obvious in your eyes that you weren't going to be successful.

"And lastly... I love you so much Tom. My heart could literally exploded with just how much, and I just want you to know that whatever it takes, whatever challenge life will hurl at us, whatever happens in the future, I will always, truly, with all that I am, lov—"

"Darling? Where are you?" Tom's voiced echoed down the hallway, halting your words as you turned your head towards the door. With a sweet laugh, you look back to the camera. "You and your impeccable timing Thomas."

You quickly wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes, making sure you don't look suspicious to not ruin the plans of surprise.

"Sweetheart?" Tom called out again.

"Bedroom babe!" you answered, taking in deep breaths before reaching for the camera. "I'll finish this later I guess. I'll see you—well in a couple seconds but future you sometime soon, love you!"

And with a blow of a kiss, you turned the camera off...

The whole bedroom turned eerily quiet as the screen turned pitch black. Almost quiet aside from the soft tap, tap, tap – the sound of Tom's tears hitting the computer keys, one after the other.

Tom stifled out a whimper as he screwed his eyes shut, hand coming up to tug at his hair in anger, sorrow, regret, hurt. You were good to him, you were everything to him and more. How could he waste that? He lost someone so rare, someone who's out of this world from beauty to heart. No one could ever replace you, nobody will ever come close to how much of an amazing person you are, how special and lucky you made him feel.

He had everything, and he threw that away.

As he tried to catch his breath, he reached for his phone, dialing the number of the only person who'd give him comfort but without all the bullshit.

"Hey Harrison, I know you’re probably still disappointed with me right now too but I just really need someone to talk to..."

***

"...and then I found this folder of hers that has all these ideas for my birthday. It even had old photos and videos of us but what struck me the most was her video message and I just—" Tom stopped to catch his breath, wiping away the tears on his face before he looked up a Harrison with a soft sob, "I ruined so much."

"You did," the lad answered bluntly, no sugar coating, no bullshitting. He wasn't going to say the words that his friend wanted to hear, if he kept doing that then how will he learn?

Tom buried his face in his hand in shame, sniffing loudly before lifting his head up again, face all puffy as he met his best friend's eyes with his bloodshot ones. "I miss her so much Haz, and I really want to fix things between us, to have her back. But I don't have a chance anymore."

Harrison frowned at that. He knows the full scope of the situation, but he doesn't recall you saying those exact words, well, as what Tom has explained to him anyway. "Did she say you don't have a chance anymore or did you just put words into her mouth?"

You didn't. You haven't told him those exact words, but your actions were an enough sign right? Tom leaned back on the couch, hand running through his hair with an exasperated sigh. "She told me to pack up her things, I think that's a clear message that it's over," he grumbled.

Harrison shook his head at his friend disapprovingly, "Tom, she has been fighting for your relationship for more than a month and you're already giving up in a week? After what you've done, I think you need to fight harder than that mate. Put more effort in, you owe at least that to her."

Tom frowned at his words, guilt growing more intense as the gears started to turn in his head. Did he really give up that easily? Could he have done so much better? If he asked you to sta—

But then the nagging voice was quick to shut down his questions. A certain reason why he feels like he can do nothing about it grew louder in his mind, said reason he felt the need to speak out loud.

"She deserves someone better than me Haz. I broke her heart and I—" Tom rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't think I deserve another chance," he concluded in defeat.

Harrison sighed, placing a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder before he began. "Okay look, there are only two paths you can choose regarding this. Path one, you can mop around, drown in your pity party and just give up with everything like a fucking wuss. Or path two, you can get off your ass, thrive to be better, right your wrongs and be the man that she deserves. You have to fight for her if you truly want her back Tom. It's just a matter of choice," Harrison finished as he shot him a knowing look.

"I think you've been so busy telling yourself that everything is too late, but what if it's not yet? You think it's too late, but is it actually too late for her? What if she just needs more persuasion? What if she just needs a proper reassurance that you're going to make things right? For you to truly show her that you do in fact still love her? All I'm saying here Tom is that you won't know the answer to these questions unless you ask them, unless you give them a try. We don't get what we want easily, you have to work hard for it." Harrison added.

Tom stared at his best friend in pure shock and amusement given that he's never heard him sound so wise with advise before. They usually do stupid shit together, and when it comes to relationships, they both can be as equally as clueless.

But nevertheless, Tom felt like his eyes got opened, a new perspective settling in his mind and he will be forever grateful at Harrison for that.

"Fuck you're right." Tom didn't waste any more time as he got up from his place and went to go get his keys. Harrison sat there bewildered, calling out to Tom again when he saw him go towards the front door, "Where are you going?"

Tom turned to his friend with a small yet hopeful smile, the most he's felt in a while, "I'm getting her back."

***

Sam looked at his brother in complete surprise once he pulled the door open, "Tom what are yo—" the lad cut himself off once he saw Tom's face, clear in his expression who he was looking for.

"She didn't tell you," the twin muttered with a frown, his sudden change in demeanor making Tom worry. "Didn't tell me what Sam?" he asked cautiously. Tom thought he already prepared for the worst, thought that he can handle any sort of rejection, but when his brother spoke again, all the color drained out his whole body.

"Harry drove her to Heathrow thirty minutes ago."

It took a few seconds for Sam's statement to finally sink in. And when it did, Tom cursed as he quickly turned on his heel and ran, heart pounding, head spinning.

"Tom, wait!"

Sam didn't get a chance to stop him as he was already back inside his car, engine roaring as he veered into the road at top speed. He was driving dangerously, Tom was aware of that, but he can't let you step even a toe in that plane. If he does, then it will really be too late.

***

"Come on Harry, pick up, pick up, come on lad pick u—Harry! Which terminal?" Tom asked in haste, fingers drumming against the wheel impatiently.

"Huh? Terminal?"

"Bro, I beg, just tell me which terminal you dropped her off, please." Tom heard Harry sigh on the other line, his anxiousness growing with each silent second, and when his brother gave him the information, he felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes.

"Terminal 2... She's off to Abu Dhabi."

***

Tom's lungs were gasping for air, both from him running as fast as he can, and from the fear that was overwhelming him to every bone. Fear that he might not catch you on time.

The crowded airport wasn't helping his anxious state at all, his eyes quick to dart around as he tries his best to look for you. He asked around, looking like a lunatic as he shows your picture to random strangers. He even asked at the desk just to narrow where you could've gone, to make it easier to find you in this huge haystack. And when he hadn't had much luck, Tom was quick to assume that you already got pass security.

It may had been dumb, but everything he's done at this point has been dumb, what's the worst thing that could happen if he tried to get pass the guards?

But before he could even attempt and sneak his way in, a large, tall man blocked his way. "Boarding pass?"

Tom shook his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, mind an utter mess that it was hard for him to think straight, "I-I don't have... it's an emergency please I–"

"Sir, you're not allowed inside if you don't have a ticket," the security reprimanded, hand held up as he stops Tom's chances of slipping by. He's an idiot really, thinking that he can talk his way through, but he tried it anyway, begged in desperation just so he can find you before you get on that plane. "Please just let me through, it will be quick, I just need to—"

"Tom?"

Never had he ever turned around so quick in his life, relief washing over him once he saw you standing there, bottle of water with a receipt in hand, confusion written all over your face at the sight of him.

Tom just ran straight towards you, his burly body almost knocking you out of balance as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, arms engulfing you tightly, like he's holding onto you for dear life. Tom's whole body shaking as he balled his eyes out, a stuttering mess when he tried to speak to say the least.

"N-no, p-please don't leave me, I-I can't—I can't do this without you, p-please don't leave," Tom sobbed against your skin, his hold around you vise-like but just enough for it not to hurt. He's just downright scared to loosen his grip for you might vanish into thin air if he does.

You tried to pull him off of you but a useless effort as he is much stronger than you. And the harder you try, the firmer his grip on you becomes, muttering his protest over and over of him not wanting to let go. You sighed, "Tom, look at me, bub..."

Tom lets out a whimper at the nickname, pulling away just slightly until he was able to rest his forehead against yours, his warm tears dropping on your cheek and your heart stung at the feeling.

"Breathe for me," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands. Your thumb caressed his cheek tenderly, wiping away the tears that ran down them as much as you could. Tom did as told, attempting to steady his breathing, the warmth in your eyes helping him by a mile.

When he finally got a hold of himself, he took one deep breath before speaking. "I should've asked you before you could even leave the house, should've chased after you. I should've fought harder for you. I wanted to ask you this before you got into your car and I didn't, which was a mistake," he trailed off, clearing out his throat as he gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I should've at least tried and asked you stay. I hope it's not too late but now I'm asking, begging you to stay. I want you to stay with me, please?" Tom pleaded, ready to be on his knees but you stopped him, he didn't need to be. Your fingers traced his jaw delicately, heart aching at the sight of broken man in front of you, but you've already made a decision. It was hard sticking to it now with him here, but you just had to remind yourself that this was for your own sake. You've already thought this through and it was final.

"I—I can't," you paused as the number of your flight echoed through the speakers. You turned back to Tom with a soft whisper, "You know I can't."

"At least you could've said goodbye?" he squeaked, voice breaking at the fact that your mind was already set, and when that happens, even before your worlds got flipped upside-down, it takes so much to change it.

"I couldn't, because I know for a fact if given the time, you might actually change my mind. Hell, just seeing you right now, it's already making me doubt my decision. But I need this Tom, I need to do this for myself. I've realized that my world revolved too much around you, and I don't regret it at all but I need to find my own path, grow as my own person."

Tom nodded dejectedly, eyes shut tightly because he knows he would have to let you go in a couple minutes. He needs more time, he wants more time with you. But when he heard your flight getting called again, Tom knew there was not much he can do about it.

"But when are you coming back?" he asked, voice frail but full of dread. And Tom felt his heart shatter some more when you looked away, his frown deep and sorrowful as he muttered, "You're not planning to."

You shook your head with a close of your eyes. "No. I am... I just don't know when," and it was true. You were going away for quite some time but you have a life here in London as well. It would be too hard to stay away. But as of now, you don't think you'll be back anytime soon.

As you open your eyes to look at those brown orbs again, you knew he understood.

He always does. Tom is quick at that when it comes to you. Not needing a whole lot of words to know what you mean, one look in the eyes will suffice. Tom couldn't say much more either, so he lets his action speak for itself instead.

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture catching you off-guard but only for a split second as you melted in his arms not long after. Tears slipped pass your eyes at the feeling, the feeling of his lips you've missed dearly, and Tom was the same. He missed how your lips fit perfectly with his, he missed how warm it feels, tender and soft.

It was a bittersweet kiss with the sense of goodbye laced in it, but it was beautiful nonetheless, special in a way as two hearts melt into one once more. Neither of you wanted to pull away. You just wanted to be stuck in the moment on repeat, destroy the buttons so that it plays on a never-ending loop. But when you heard your name through the speakers, you had no choice but to pull away.

As you stared into each other's eyes, both of you knew there was one more thing left to say, and as you did, as you spoke with nothing but sincerity, your hearts were filled with nothing but pure—

"I love you Y/N."

"And I love you Tom."

And with that he lets you go, hands going limp at his sides as he watches you gather your things and walk towards security. Before you could disappear out of sight, you spared him one last look over your shoulder, a smile written on your lips, one that was genuine, filled with adoration and... love.

It was a look that would always be burned in Tom's memory, but hopefully it won't be the last. Hopefully, with every choice made from here on out, if it's destined, then you'll find your way back to each other.

-:-:-:-:-

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[primasveraas-writing]

And In Darkness, I Stand- Chapter 4

Kallus' leg is never quite the same after Bahryn. But then again, neither is he.

1  2 3 4 5

4. Yavin IV

“Captain Kallus.”

Kallus turns the best he can, gripping the handle of his cane as he does. Zeb is making his way over, his tall frame parting the flow of traffic in the hall.

“Kal,” Zeb amends with a smile, brushing a hand against the small of Kallus’ back. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kallus nods, and grimaces. “I don't suppose I can use my position to get out of physical therapy?”

“No. I’ll still carry you there myself if I have to.”

Heat flames across Kallus’ cheek, but there’s nothing he can say to defend himself. His daily routine has been centered around his recovery for weeks, despite his protestations. On his first day back, he reported to Command for an extra few hours rather than going to the medbay, which caused a small uproar among the likes of Hera and Zeb. The resulting situation was a lecture from Zeb and the entire medical staff, as well as a warning from Command as to where his priorities should lie.

But aside from the initial excitement, Kallus has settled in quite well. He has his own post and a small command to his name. He’s been forgiven by the Rebels in an official capacity, and has learned when to ignore the snide comments made by his less-forgiving compatriots. For the most part, his job is normal and steady- he’s in the company of fellow spies most of the time, but everyone on Yavin is well acquainted with danger, regardless of their roles within the Rebellion. He nearly fits in.

It would be better if he were not so limited by his physical ability. He cannot stand on his leg unsupported, so he has been using a cane constantly, save for a few small excursions across his quarters, which, so far, have been painful and short-lived.

Suddenly, Kallus is bad at keeping himself out of trouble, between his efforts to heal and his apparently lacking self-care habits. This is yet another change he attributes to rebel influence, but he rather likes it, even if he is adjusting to this new life slowly.

“You’re improving and you’re not going to stop now,” Zeb growls. He may as well be threatening Kallus, who minds this fact very little. His hand tightens on his cane.

“I know,” Kallus breathes, and drops his gaze. His next step forward is slightly unsteady, but he’s overly aware of Zeb watching him closely and that his friend is fully prepared to catch him should he trip.

Kallus hasn’t fallen in weeks. He can make it all the way across base without needing to rest now. The medics say the fracture is largely healed, and he thinks he must have made some kind of progress over the last few weeks.

“Are you coming with me?” Kallus tries not to sound too hopeful or excited; Zeb usually accompanies him to the medcenter for checkups and therapy, if only to ensure that Kallus himself actually attends.

“Of course.” Zeb glances at him. “‘Til you say you don’t want me there.”

“I do,” Kallus affirms, too quickly, and tries to discern if he’s blushing again. His face still feels hot.

They make their way down to the medcenter, where the staff greets him and Zeb both by name. The journey takes longer than he’d like, and Kallus tries not to count how many people pass him. It’s mid-afternoon by then, and his leg has started to twinge, although he turns away from Zeb and bites the inside of his cheek to get through the moments of pain.

Zeb steadies him as he strips off his jacket and boots, clutching Kallus’ left elbow. Kallus shoots him a grateful smile. He wobbles on one leg, unsteady, and he knows he will not fall.

“Ready?”

It’s not Zeb who asks, but a nurse. Cida Amada, who was one of the first people he got to know during his stay in the medcenter. She barely looks old enough to have such responsibility, with her shy smiles and soft tones, but she and Kallus took a liking to each other. They made each other cry, he lost in frustration and agony, and she hurt after discovering his tendency to yell and swear when in crippling pain. Yet once he had apologized, their relationship improved, and Amada became his primary caretaker, which most predominantly includes cajoling him into showing up for his appointments.

She and Zeb seem to adore each other for this fact. Kallus can only pretend he hates it so much.

He nods, his mouth suddenly dry, and she reaches out to take his hand. He lets her, and Cida smiles at him, not meeting his eyes for more than a few seconds.

“It’ll feel better later even if it’s uncomfortable right now, Alexsandr. How have the last few rotations been?”

She is gentle and kind. Forgiving, too, which is the strangest of offerings he’s even been gifted in his life. Kallus mostly expected to be dead by now, rather than guided through a half-stocked medbay by a medic exclusively trained by war doctors. Cida genuinely likes him, too, which is odd. Both Hera and Zeb had to assure him of this fact, though Kallus is sure she wouldn’t be capable of pretending otherwise. He first had doubts about the girl’s abilities as a liar since she apologized for taking a blood sample from him. She is too good to lie, which, he supposes, is why he’s a former Imperial-turned-spy, and she is a rebel war doctor.

Cida stretches his legs and guides him through a few exercises that should be simple but prove exceedingly difficult for Kallus. He has to touch his toes. Climb stairs. Walk 2 meters with support on either side. He grits his teeth and sweats through it, mumbling curses that Cida and Zeb pretend not to hear when he inevitably falters.

His hands shake for an hour afterward. Kallus showers and lies on his bunk, exhausted.

His leg feels better than it did before.

 Had he stayed with the Empire, Kallus would have received higher quality medical care.

He might not be stuck with a limp and a cane. 

First, he would have needed to swallow his damned pride and ask for treatment, and then the initial break would not have affected him for the rest of his life. The Imperial meddroids would have returned him to normal in a matter of days, if not weeks, and Thrawn would have never rebroken the leg, even if Kallus had pursued life as Fulcrum. The Empire is equipped with better resources and better training.

But he didn’t ask for help, not upon his return from Bahryn nor any of the painful days after. Konstantine didn’t even look up at him. If anyone noticed he was uncomfortable or weaker, they politely looked away and saved that topic of discussion for when his back was turned. Kallus was alone in caring for himself, and it was thus unimportant to everyone in the Empire, including him. He adopted the same attitude regarding his own health.

Hera had caught him when he collapsed, after Atollon. Cida cried when he cried because she hated seeing him in pain. Zeb has been there for him in more ways than he can count.

Sometimes, Zeb calls him Alex. He hasn’t had that nickname since he was a little boy- his parents never bothered with it and he had few friends by the time he entered the Imperial Academy.

Zeb is the only one, in his entire life, who has called him Kal.

That’s yet another thing they share. Kallus has gleamed that Zeb never fully revealed the truth of what happened on Bahryn, even to the rest of the Ghost crew.

He does not know what would be enough to repay the Rebels. They have so little, yet they give to him, in time and effort and supplies and trust. It would be more just if these things were diverted to another, not to a formal Imperial, but they will not let him refuse their generosity.

Kallus would give his life for these people. For Zeb and the Spectres, certainly, but for those he does not know, too. For the ones who hurl dirty looks and harsh words at him in the mess and hallways, for Cida, for the other Fulcrums, for every rebel on Yavin and the galaxy beyond.

His life would not be enough, when they are the very people who have given it back to him. Kallus’ life is marred and stained and broken. He can offer the rebels service and secrets and loyalty, and he will do all he can to see them to victory. 

He wonders about that, too. He would be more confident about winning the war were he still an Imperial agent. He is a man of facts and logic, and he knows that the odds are against the rebels to prevail over the Empire.

But he believes in the rebels. Kallus believes in their cause and their people. That alone has carried them further than Kallus ever predicted.

He would give his life for them without thinking. He gives his hope and keeps his doubt and his cynicism, heavy as they are, so that they do not burden those like Pica and Leia Organa and Ezra Bridger.

Even as a rebel, being a spy still demands a certain mindset of coldness and hardness. Kallus is learning mercy, and he is learning how mercy does and doesn’t fit into his role. Draven has told him more than once that they serve the cause of the Rebellion, not its people.

Kallus is not sure he agrees. Draven has the end of the war in sight, and that is what grants Kallus peace of mind while the familiarity of Draven’s words nags at him.

Draven has also told Kallus that he is still useful, despite his leg. The General had looked at Kallus with pity while he had said it. Kallus will prove him wrong, and his heart sings with a small amount of pride with the knowledge of the difference he has made already under and to Draven’s command.

Kallus is trying to be good in his new role. He is also trying to become someone worthy of the friendship and care that the rebels have shown him.

He wants to be accepted by them. He wants to be their friend.

 “Alexsandr!”

The use of his full first name startles him, nearly as much as the alarm in Zeb’s voice does. Zeb is staring at him from across the hangar, Hera by his size. The droid, Chopper, makes some obscene noise that Kallus can only assume is scolding.

The trio is at his side quickly, and Kallus grunts as he loads the shipment onto the shuttle.

“I can do that,” Hera says. She sounds mildly scandalized, and she takes the box from his hands. Chopper wags his mechanical arm at Kallus, and emits a horrifying cackle at the indignation on his face.

“No cane?” Zeb sounds surprised, but Kallus has had a good few days. He’s permitted not to use it for short amounts of time, given that his leg doesn’t start hurting. He and Cida are hoping that this will become the norm, that he will only need his cane some days. Kallus has floated the idea of field missions once or twice already, but he’ll push for more unsupervised walking first.

“Not for a while.” It’s nearly strange not to have the cane in his hand, but he’s been making good use of his free hands for a while. Then: “General, I assure you I am very capable of doing that.”

Kallus tries to take the next box from Hera, who passes to Zeb. In turn, he holds the box over their heads, then sets it in the shuttle.

“You could hurt yourself,” Hera chides. “Let us help you.”

“Lifting a few crates will hardly send me into critical condition,” Kallus protests, but the words are weakened when Hera glares at him. Chopper laughs again. “My leg is injured, not my arms.”

“No extra weight,” Zeb reminds him, taking another box from Hera. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“It’s just-”

“We’re happy to help,” Hera interrupts. She exchanges a look with Zeb, and Kallus bites back a retort. He’s perfectly capable.

The next time he sees Cida, Kallus is sure to mention lightening the restrictions on his carrying weight. She’s willing to negotiate, at the very least, and they argue until it’s agreed that Kallus can lift, but not carry, a few kilos. He’s sure to complain very little for the rest of the session, and the nurse sends him away with a smile at the end of the day.

She tells him he’s making progress; a statement constantly echoed by Zeb. Physical therapy becomes easier and less frequent; he’s fully adjusted to using his cane, although he has started to go many days without it. At first, it’s painful- he can only endure the day without his cane if he stays in Command, but then weeks pass and he can move around base on his own. He’s outfitted with temporary mechanical braces, and he goes on his first field mission as a rebel.

The days are not bad, and the initial mission goes smoothly, as do all the ones after that.

When night falls after he returns, Kallus can barely stand, and the pain reduces him mostly immobile.

Cida worms this fact out of him after he spends two rotations chasing down a rogue informant. He had been late to see her, and stiff and quiet during their appointment.

“You’ll make it worse,” she warns him. His leg has been swelling, too. “Too much at once will only hurt you.”

“I’m useful out there,” Kallus insists, staring at his injured leg. It would be a waste if he remained on base all the time. “If I can get stronger, then I can fight.”

Cida sighs, her eyes full of worry. Kallus looks away, his heart poisoned with guilt. “If you keep doing this, you may last a few months or a cycle. After that, you could spend the rest of your life walking with pain and assistance.”

He nods once. That’s as much time as he needs, regardless of what follows.

Kallus has greater potential than what his leg allows. He could be one of the best ground fighters on base, if his body worked right.

 “Does your leg hurt?”

Kallus grunts. “My leg always hurts.” He shifts, moving his lower body as little as possible, but Zeb moves into his full view a moment later.

“You shoulda said something on way back-”

“I’m fine, Zeb.”

“Your cane-”

“It hurts with or without the cane,” Kallus snaps, then averts his eyes. Zeb’s ears flatten, and Kallus’ stomach flips.

“Are you gonna use it now?” Zeb asks quietly. They still don’t look at each other.

Kallus reaches for the offending object and thumps it against the ground. “Yes,” he mutters. That’s the only reason he got here, in some dirty corner of the base. The cane saw him back from the medbay and into the spot where he had chosen to sulk.

Apparently, the covert location wasn’t quite private enough. That, or Zeb knows him too well, because he seems to have sought Kallus out with ease. But here he is, sitting on the floor with Kallus and watching the rest of the Rebellion walk by, totally oblivious to their discussion.

“Today is a bad day,” Kallus says. That’s how he measures time- in good days and bad ones. “I’ve been having a lot of those, recently.”

“You’ve been working hard.”

“I want to go back to normal,” Kallus mutters, rolling his eyes. “I’m sick of being weak. I’m tired.” He smiles at Zeb, his lips thin and pursed. “I’m done.”

“Alex.” Zeb is imploring.”How could you think you’re weak?”

“Because I can’t walk down the damned hallway!” Kallus scoffs. “Because I have gone through all this suffering and I am not better! And all I wish is that it would end!”

“That makes you weak, does it?”

“It doesn’t make me strong, Garazeb. Not the way you think I am.”

The Lasat next to him snorts. “Kal, I have seen you walk through hell and back-”

“That doesn’t make-”

“- I know how strong you are,” Zeb finishes, talking over him. “Do you trust me?”

Kallus blanches, his heart pounding. “Of course.”

“Then believe me when I say you’re strong.”

“I’ve never seen it that way.”

The words are nearly inaudible. It’s a shamefaced confession, and Zeb stares at him with wide eyes, taking both of Alexsandr’s hands in his.

“Just because I survived doesn’t mean I’m a martyr, Zeb. Or some inspiration to look up to.”

“That’s half of one of the many reasons I care for you,” Zeb whispers, his voice so, so low. “Not because you’ve managed to survive, but because of how determined you are. It’s the stupid face you make when you’re concentrating and the way your voice gets all high when you tell me about how fine and capable you are.” Zeb chuckles, and Kallus is very acutely aware that Zeb is sitting so close to him that their thighs are touching. “You’ve always been so damn stubborn.”

“You like that about me?” Some alarmed voice in Alexsandr’s head warns him that this is barely tangential to the topic at hand.

“Yeah.” Zeb’s ears twitch, and he drops his eyes from Kallus’ wondrous stare. “Even if it pisses me off.”

“I know it does.”

“Yeah,” Zeb growls, then he deflates as he sighs. “I’ve always known that about you. Even when you were trying to kill me.” He gestures to Kallus, to his brace and cane. “Seeing you recover is another way you’re proving this to me. Your absurd relentlessness. And your strength.” He glowers at Kallus when he says the last word, as if daring him to object. “You’ve always had that.”

“Someone better would have handled it with grace.”

“Maybe.” Zeb shrugs. “You’re tough, not a saint.”

“Thank you, Garazeb.”

Zeb rolls his eyes, shoving against Kallus’ shoulder gently. “Whatever.” He clears his throat. “Maybe all this made you stronger. I don’t care if you get back to normal, or whatever you’ve dreamed up for yourself. I only want you to be happy with where you were.”

“And go to physical therapy.”

“I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“Right.”

Zeb grins. “By the way, if you didn’t want the hurt from your serious injury to go away, then you’re twice as big of an idiot as I thought you were. I have no idea what else you expected.”

“I expected for it to last a few weeks. Not the rest of my life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wishing for that.” Zeb looks up at the trees, and Kallus thinks of a burning world, razed to the ground by the Empire. Zeb didn’t come away from Lasan unscathed, he knows. “Whatever happens though, here you are, Kal. Even if all you’ve done is survive.”

Alexsandr reaches out for Zeb’s hand, and his friend takes it. Zeb’s words are muddled with affection and friendship and respect. The person Zeb describes sounds like someone Kallus can appreciate. Somebody with an iron will and a conviction for the right kind of things. Somebody worthy of love

 That night, Kallus cannot rest. He wanders the halls, on a dreadfully familiar path- the one Zeb takes him on when Kallus has to stretch out his leg. His feet carry him into the cool night air, his cane thumping against the stone after every uneven step.

Kallus searches for privacy, but he cannot make it far outside the base. There are still lights blinking from the hangars and a quiet bustle of nightlife shows that the base is still busy, but Kallus staggers along as far as he can and settles on a log under the cover of some trees.

“Can’t sleep?”

Alexsandr jumps, then he squints in the dark. Some 30 feet away is Kanan Jarrus, sitting on the forest floor with his legs folded beneath him. He appears to be meditating; his shoulder pauldrons and mask are off, and he sounds relaxed.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kallus calls. He fumbles with his cane and readies himself to stand; he’s still slightly out of breath and now he has nowhere to go.

“No.” Kanan stands instead and approaches Kallus, nimbly stepping over branches and rocks. Kallus stares up at the blind Jedi, then averts his gaze when Kanan takes a seat next to him.

They sit together in silence. Kallus doesn’t mind the company very much; he fiddles with his hands and does his best to ignore the aching in his leg.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” Kanan says finally. He turns to Kallus expectantly.

Kallus gives a nervous chuckle. “What is?”

“Healing.” Kanan opens his hands as if he’s referring to the whole jungle, instead. “Even with the people who love you at your side.”

Kallus opens his mouth to protest- he’s not sure who loves him, even if a few people come to mind- but the depth of Kanan’s words hit him a moment later.

“I don’t-” Kallus struggles for the right words. “I don’t believe I’m alone.”

Kanan nods slowly. “I had Hera with me every step of the way. She’s the most understanding, caring person I know.” Then, Kanan shrugs. “But it was impossible for her to understand what it was like, no matter how hard she tried. It was lonely.”

“Yes,” Kallus says slowly, exhaling.  “Even- even-”

“Zeb doesn’t understand?” He can hear the humor in Kanan’s voice, although Kallus cannot piece together why Kanan would be amused. “I think that’d be impossible unless he’d been through it, too.”

“Do you know anyone who did?”

Kanan shakes his head. “Not quite.” He smiles, and again, Kallus can’t comprehend why. “I had to find solace in other places.”

“Do you think you’re on the other side?”

“Of recovery?” Kallus inclines his head. “Yes. It’s different now.” Kanan’s smile becomes wistful. “But there’s no going back.”

“You made it through.”

“I did. And you will too. In time.”

“I want it to be over.” The confession falls from Kallus’ lips before he can help it. “I’m so tired of being in pain.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think it will ever pass.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then…” Kallus sighs. “Then I move forward with it, anyway.”

There’s no other choice. He will stay with the rebels until the end, and he will do so however he can. He could lose his leg tonight or he could wake up entirely healed tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be little change to his plans.

“I thought you’d say that.” Kanan rests his hand on Kallus’ knee. “It gets easier.”

“I know.” It has already. Maybe Zeb is right. Maybe he is strong because of what he has survived, and maybe there’s truth to Kanan’s words, too. 

“I think you’ll find someone who makes it less lonely. I believe you’ll find yourself on the other side.”

Kallus bows his head in acknowledgment, suddenly exhausted. “Zeb will be yours again, once we get back from Lothal.” Kanan’s seriousness disappears, and Kallus knows the moment has passed. He can’t help that the corners of his lips are quirking up, and Kanan seems to both know and enjoy this fact.

“You leave soon?” The thought is bittersweet; the Lothal rebels returning home again, and Zeb will leave his side.

“Three rotations.” Kanan answers. His tone has become heavy again, but the Jedi does not sound afraid.

“I wish you luck.”

The earliest sign of civilization is a healed femur.

#kalluzeb #kalluzeb fanfic #swr #rebels #kallus x zeb #alexsandr kallus #kallus #agent kallus #star wars #star wars fanfic #sw rebels #rebels fanfic #star wars rebels #SWR fanfic #star wars rebels fanfiction #kalluzeb fanfiction #kalluzeb imagine #kalluzeb headcanons #and in darkness i stand

[ghostyearzero0]

Welcome To The Wild Side (Chapter 2)

Chapter Two: Working for Motley, but pay the price. A/N: I changed some things since the last chapter. I wanted to restart this thing, but I figured fuck it, and just start from here. I changed that Lucey is now Mick’s biological sister. Lucey now works for Motley after quitting her job at a pizzeria. The title is now “Welcome To The Wild Side”. I like the sound of it than just the name of one of their many hits. Okay, but I hope you guys like this series, and I don’t know how long it’ll go. I hadn’t had the time to go and make a chapter 2 til now. I’m sorry. My parents got into a bad motorcycle accident. My dad has a broken ankle and fractured spine (at the neck, now has to wear a neck brace and he can’t move his ankle anymore). My mom is bruised and scuffed up. BOTH are okay and home now, my dad just got home today. I may not be posting chapters often due to the fact I have to take care of my father for a few weeks. So, enjoy chapter two. 😉 Thank you for your patience and hope this gets a little bit attention. You’re welcome to give me any suggestions. My requests are open too. For now, enjoy this fanfic. Word Count: 2,748 Words. Warnings: Smut, Heavy smut, cursing, mentions of drugs and alcohol. A bit of abuse. 18+ only. Do not read if you don’t like any of the themes above. You have been warned. This is going to be DETAILED smut, as much as a I can. Enjoy and thank you.           Lucey looked at Johnny as he approached her with an impatient look on his face. “Well, bitch? What is it?” He tapped his foot, his hands on his hips. Brown eyes filled with fire looked her shimmering blue ones. “I think we should see other people.” She stood up and sighed. “Mmm.. I see. You don’t want me any more.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not that. You treat me really badly and I feel like I shouldn’t be with you anymore.” She scratched the back of her head. Johnny nodded, “Whatever.” He walked out of the house and slammed the door. She heard the car door open, and then slamming shut. She then heard it start, and drove off.

          She sighed softly and nodded softly. “There he goes. You did the right thing, girl.” She told herself as she went to get ready for her little date with the Terror Twins. Who knows what they’ll do to her? The twins are usually well known for being destructive. Their veins filled with adrenalin after each show. Though, things may be different since it’s just a date. Though, they’re always drunk and high. Rarely ever sober. Especially Nikki. -time skip-         As if right on cue, there was a knock at the door right on 6PM. Lucey got up from the couch and opened the door to see Nikki dressed up in a black tank-top and black pants. His boots match his dark clothing and his hair was of course still fluffy as hell. His bangs covering his eyes. “Hey, babe. You look hot as usual.” He looked her over, surprisingly he can still see through his bangs. She wore a short black dress and some cute knee-length boots. Her hair was fully down and was straightened. “You are all ready? Or ya need a minute?” The bassist asked as he took out a hand for her to take.        “I think I am all set.” Lucey smiled and took his hand. Nikki smirked and took her hand into his, walking out to the car. Though, he did let Lucey lock up her home. After they got in, he made Tommy sit in the back, despite he had little to no leg room. Tommy was dressed in his biker gear. Black, sleeveless shirt, black vest, fingerless gloves, tight black leather pants, and his hair was a bit neater than Nikki’s. Though, his brunette curls are a little frizzy. His brown eyes lit up when he saw the beautiful, red headed goth got into the car with his best friend.     “Hey, baby.” He wolf whistled at her. She giggled softly and shut the door, buckling up. Nikki got in, shutting his door, buckling up, then starting the car up. He started to drive after he carefully back out from the drive way. Tommy smiled and looked over to talk to Lucey. “So, tonight’s a special night. We are treating you in a special way. Spoiling you!” Tommy was a hopeless romantic. He will do his best to treat his girl right. Even spoiling the fuck out of her. He wanted his girl to be very happy. “Yeah?” Lucey smiled and looked at Tommy. Tommy nodded softly and then leaned back. After Nikki pulled up at the restaurant, he made sure to help Lucey get out of the car and Tommy got out, stretching his long legs. The trio walked in and got a booth. Tommy and Nikki sat on each side of Lucey. They ordered their usual Jack and Coke while Lucey just ordered a coke. While they were looking at the menu, Tommy grew an idea. Nikki looked over at his twin, who was smirking. He got the clue and smirked back. “Hey, babe. Why don’t you go under the table for us?” He whispered at Lucey. She rose a brow. “Why?” She asked. “Just do it.” He chuckled.. She nodded and went under the table, as she was confused. Tommy looked around, making sure no one was looking. Once the coast was clear, he bent his head down. “You know what to do right? Just a quickie.” He whispered to her. Lucey looked up and blinked, “Here? Now?” She whispered. “Mhmm… Trust me nobody can see you, there’s a long ass table cloth on this table…” He whispered at her. She rose a brow, but she did expected this from Tommy. She sighed softly, moving her hands towards Tommy’s belt, unbuckling it. Then she started to unbutton his pants, unzipping them as well. She pulled them down, half away to his legs. He wasn’t wearing any underwear… Figures, it’s Tommy fucking Lee. What do you expect? Lucey looked at his dick, as she began to rub it, feeling it going hard. Luckily, there was a table cloth other wise she wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. Nikki looked at his twin, who was trying to look serious and not obvious that he was about to get a blow job. He held the menu tightly in his hands. The waitress came back. “Are you ready to order?” She smiled. Tommy blinked and looked at her with a smile, “We need a few more minutes, please. Our date isn’t back from the bathroom yet.” He said. She nodded and walked off. Nikki chuckled and looked down at Lucey. “Don’t forget about me, babe.” He reached his hands down to her, grabbing her hair a bit. Lucey nodded and she placed Tommy’s dick inside of her mouth, bopping her head back and forth. Nikki started to unzip and unbutton his pants, taking them half way off of his legs. He was already half way hard. Tommy sip at his drink ,letting out very soft grunts as he gripped onto the girl’s head. He bucked his hips a bit and face fucked her a bit. She sucked him faster, his tip hitting the back of her throat. She reached her hand to Nikki’s dick to stroke him. Nikki bit his bottom lip a bit as he bucked his hips into her hand. “Her hand feels so soft..” He whispered to Tommy. Tommy chuckled, “Her mouth feels more better than her hands.” He looked at his twin.                As Lucey kept sucking Tommy off and stroking Nikki, the boys were softly groaning, trying hard not to be loud. After a few minutes, Tommy had came inside of her mouth and Nikki had came into her hand. She swallowed most of the cum and licked her hand clean. She wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. She moved back up to seat in between the twins. Tommy and Nikki fixed their pants, pulling them back up and buttoning them back up. Tommy wrapped his arm around Lucey’s shoulder and kissed her cheek. “You’re pretty good at that.” He complimented her. Nikki nodded in agreement.                They ordered their food and ate. After they left the restaurant, they decided to drop her back home. “We had a blast. We do have tour coming up though.” Nikki said as he looked down at her. “We did talked to Doc about you. I even convinced him about hiring you. SO! You get to work with us now.” He smirked. “Oh shit. Well, this day just keeps getting better and better!” She smiled widely. “Yeah. Babe. We’ll see you.” He leaned down and pecked her lips, as he left her home. She smiled widely and shut the door. She flopped down on the couch. “That was a good day.” She giggled. Though, she may regret working for Motley..                -Time skip-                1982 It was now the year of 1982, Motley Crue was getting more and more well known and popular. Of course, Tommy and Nikki was fucking every groupie they can get their hands on. Vince though, he was with multiple than just one. Mick had no interested in that shit. Lucey was working with them, helping with costumes and even going in music videos. She even gets to watch the show in the back stage. Though, this night was quite different. Lucey was backstage. She wanted to watch the show but she didn’t feel like it tonight. She walked over and saw one of Nikki’s books. She was interested in reading. She sat down on the couch and looked down. She shut her eyes for just a minute. Though, it was three hours before she woke up from her nap. She stretched out softly and heard the door open. She snapped her neck towards the sound. It was just Nikki who had came in.. Covered in sweat and smudgy make up. His black locks stuck to his sweaty skin. Nikki looked at the red head. “Did you enjoyed the show?” He asked with a smirk. Lucey scratched her head and giggled. “About that. I took a nap… But it was by accident.” She raised her hands in defense.

She heard the door being locked, thanks to Nikki. “That’s too bad. You missed our solos.” He pouted. “I’ll watch the next one. I promise.” She smiled and raised her hands in defense. “Fine, but that’s on you. I’ll take your word for it.” He chuckled, walking up to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “Tommy and I have been thinking… You should be our girl.” He looked down at her. “Both of you having me?” She rose a brow. “Yeah. We can share.” He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Besides, we can’t let a sexy girl like you go to another guy.” He glared, a hint of jealously was in his voice.

“I see. Well, Nikki… I’ll be honored to be your girl!” She nodded softly. “Good, Tommy will be happy to hear. But since it’s just us.. I want to have a little fun..” He leaned his head to her face. “Okay, fine. I’ll be down for that.” She nodded softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Mm. Good…” His wild side was starting show now, his hand roamed down to her ass, giving it a good squeeze. Luckily she was wearing a pair of shorts and a tour shirt. She let out a soft squeak as he pulled her closer. She felt his hard on through his tight, leather pants. “You’re eager, aren’t you?” She looked up at him. “Course I am… I need to relief myself…” He smirked.

Usually, he’d find a groupie and take her somewhere to fuck her. Though, he specifically wanted Lucey. Since he had her all to himself, he figured to have some fun with her. “I’m down for a round.. if you are…” His green eyes shimmered with lust as he looked into her bright blue’s. “Sure. Let’s do it..” She blushed softly. This made Nikki smirked as he leaned into her face, his lips latching onto hers. She softly moaned and kissed him back. She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth a bit, closing her eyes. He moaned softly, slipping his wet organ into her mouth. His hands groping her breasts, as she moaned loudly.

He pulled away, smirking softly. He chuckled and moved her to the couch. He laid her down. He took off her shirt and then shorts. He pulled off her bra and panties. She blushed softly and looked up at Nikki. He walked off towards a table. She got up and walked next to him. She saw him doing a line of coke as he turned around, left over coke all over his nose. His pupils now wide as he started to strip his clothes off. Eventually he got nude right in front of her. He roughly grabbed her and bent her down over the table. “I’m going to fuck you over this table, baby.” He growled.

She gasped once she felt him entered her. She moaned loudly, feeling him thrust quickly in and out of her. Her tits were moving back and forth a bit. He reached a hand over and grabbed one of them, squeezing it.

She moaned more louder, panting a bit. “Oh, Nikki~! Nikki!” She moaned out his name. He smirked, “That’s right, scream my name out.” He growled in a feral way as he kept thrusting quickly into her. He went harder as well, as he let go of her breast, both hands on her hips as he fucked her from behind. “You’re still tight. Mmm~” He growled as he leaned down and bit down on to her neck, but not hard enough to cause pain.

She moaned loudly and closed her eyes tightly. She bit down onto her lip, drawing blood. Nikki groaned a bit as he kept fucking her, hard and fast. She felt her orgasm coming soon, as she tightened around his dick. He moaned loudly, as he gripped onto her hair. She started to moan really loudly, anyone outside of the door would probably hear them. She eventually came onto his dick. However, Nikki wasn’t too far behind. He grabbed both of her tits, squeezing them as she was orgasming. She screamed out his name as she was orgasming.

He slammed his dick deep within her pussy. He came deep and hard into her, with a loud groan. Painting her inner walls with his cum. He panted and stayed in her for a few minutes. He pulled out slowly and helped her stood up. Her legs felt like jelly as she leaned against him, head on his chest. Both were now super sweaty and tired. “That was the best sex I ever had!” He exclaimed, his hand cupping her cheek. He looked down at her, pecking her lips. He heard a knock on the door, which made her jump a bit. He chuckled. “I got this babe.” He picked her up bridal style, carrying her to the couch and placing her gently down onto it.

He got dressed and opened the door. It was Doc, “Nikki. It’s time to go. Where’s Lucey? She’s in here with you?” He asked. “Yeah, she’s in here with me.” Nikki leaned against the door frame. Doc nodded and walked away. Nikki went back inside of the room, shutting the door. He looked over at Lucey with a smirk. “Looks like we gotta go, baby girl.” He went over to her. He helped her off of the couch and get dressed. She grabbed the bags and slug them over her shoulders. She took Nikki’s hand as they went out of the room and started to walk back towards the bus. Lucey giggled softly, being happy at the moment.

She greeted Tommy with a wave and Tommy happily waved back her. Nikki smirked at Tommy and winked at him. Tommy got the hint and smirked at him. He followed his twin with the red head. Working with Motley isn’t too bad, right? Dating the Terror Twins isn’t bad, right? Nothing bad will happen…

yet.

#Motley Crue #motley crue smut #MotleyCrue #nikkisixx #nikki+sixx+smut #nikki sixx #TommyLee #Tommy Lee #tommy lee smut #Vince Neil #Vinceneil #Mick Mars #mickmars