#the emotional toll is just awful. and even if I am not strong enough. I’m me so. I’m only as strong as I am. and I can’t take it anymore

[bellylivesthepoguelife]

don’t. John B x Sarah (& JJ)

Request: If I’m lucky and you ddint get number 10 yet I’d love to request either “Please don’t go” or “Come on, let’s take a nice bath together.” for jarah :)) and if I’m too late than no worries and I am excited to read those other 10 prompts 😇

Word Count: 2,079

Sarah knew something was up when John B was quiet. So far this morning, the only word he had said was "sure" when she asked if he wanted a cup of coffee.

She glanced over at him as she poured two cups, his with two spoonfuls of sugar, hers with three. When she moved to put everything away, she noticed that John B was staring at the sliding glass door. It was one of those moments where he was looking, but she could tell he wasn't really seeing. JJ had been in his room when they walked past earlier, so she knew he wasn't looking at anything in particular. What he saw instead were the thoughts in his head.

The bag of sugar moved at a glacial pace toward it's home in the cupboard closest to the doorway as Sarah tried to piece together a plan. She decided to play it casual. His gaze didn't break until she walked into his line of sight, setting his cup on the coffee table in front of him, while she and cradled hers.

He offered a small smile of thanks as he picked him mug up, but didn't say a word.

Sarah sipped at her coffee, watching him as he trained his gaze toward the backyard again. Her eyes followed his this time, and she guessed he was looking out at the marsh. After another couple sips of her coffee, she decided to get his attention by calling his name.

"John B?"

The break in the silence startled him, though he smiled when his eyes focused on her. Not a full smile of course, but enough that her heart stuttered because she knew that her presence helped ease whatever war was going on in his mind.

She took another sip and decided on stating the obvious. "You're awful quiet this morning."

His smile fell, and his eyes shifted down.

"Anything you want to talk about?" She offered, knowing that it's best to give him the option to work through the mess his brain was in.

Sarah wasn't naive enough to think that John B would come away from the past year without any scars. Hell, she hadn't even come away without, But the good thing about their friend group was that they didn't shy away from the mental toll. They didn't cover things up, or try to put on a brave face. If one of them was struggling, 99 pecent of the time, they would find one of the others (or on some occassions call a full group meeting) to work through whatever aspect they were struggling with. Good lord knew there were many.

John B, for the most part, was the "strong" one of the group. As the unoffical leader of the Pogues, he had a protective nature toward everyone individually. That didn't mean he hadn't broken down and cried in JJ's arms once or twice, or fell asleep on Kie's lap in the hammock after a particularly bad anxiety attack. But he never really reached out until he was in the midst of it.

He still hadn't said anything to her, but it looked like he was thinking of a response as he took another sip of his coffee.

Finally, he decided.

"I think I'm just struggling this morning." His fingers traced the edge of the mug he was staring at, as Sarah contemplated what course of action would have the least chance of shutting him down.

"Well," she started, "did something happen?"

He glanced out the glass door again, this time looking.

"I guess it started with a nightmare."

"Okay." Giving him an open space to talk however much or little he liked, was something Sarah liked to offer anyone she talked with.

He paused for another minute, taking a shaky breath before looking over at her again. She could see the tears gathering on his waterline, a couple blinks away from skiing down the hills of his face in an avalanche of emotion desperate to get out. She moved closer to him, as his eyes slid shut.

The expression of pure pain on his face was one that tugged a little extra at Sarah's heartstrings. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and brought his head to her shoulder.

"I can't stop seeing it." He admitted, "every time I close my eyes."

"What do you see?"

"Kie barely being able to hold JJ's head above water."

She rubbed his shoulder and cuddled into him a little more. They all had dreams about this particular event, in one way or another. And it logically made sense that John B would be so effected because of how important JJ was to him. Logic didn't make it any easier to deal with though.

"And if it's not JJ," he continued, "it's you."

She went to pull back from him, but he cut her off.

"It's you on that damn table and all I can hear is that flat line!" His body was wracking, and she moved to put their mugs on the coffee table so she could better hold him.

"And it doesn't come back." He grasps at her arms, continuing to spiral. "It doesn't come back! And then JJ's there. And I'm just left staring at the two most important people in my life! And you guys are gone! And it's just me, and I'm all by myself, and I can't lose you guys--I can't!"

"I know, I know." Sarah attempts to comfort, though her words are getting caught in her throat. She decides to call in reinforcements. "JJ!"

They both can hear his footsteps as he saunters down the hallway.

"'Sup Princess." He says just before he rounds the corner, but when he sees the pair on the couch, he runs to the other side, muttering an "oh shit!" on the way.

"Hey," He's immediately on John B's other side, placing his arm on the other side of his best friend and running his hand through his hair. "What's goin' on, lovebirds?"

Having JJ's presence there sends a fresh wave of grief down John B's cheeks, and he turn himself so he's able to fully embrace his brother.

JJ smoothly adjusts, wrapping John B in his arms and squeezing gently to ground him. A quick glance across at where Sarah has her hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet her cries, has him whispering to his best friend. "Hey, JB. It's alright man, I'm right here." If he had to guess, JJ would say that seeing him dead in the water would be what had caused this breakdown, since up until this point he was convinced that no matter how many times he tried to deny it: John B hadn't really dealt with it.

"Calm down, JB. I'm right here. You can feel me breathing." JJ wasn't a stranger to breakdowns, or full blown panic attacks. He had experienced everything on the "mental breakdown" scale, and most of them with John B right next to him, reminding him of the things he couldn't focus on in the moment.

After a period of time with JJ breathing steadily and whispering calming words, John B's cries began to quiet. His body was still tensed in fight or flight mode, but his tears were on their way to stopping.

Sarah had moved behind John B, showing she was still there by resting her head in the middle of his upper back, and rubbing at his lower.

"I can just see it." John B's voice caught after no one had spoken for a couple minutes. "I see you both, dead, every time I close my eyes. And I'm convinced it's going to happen." He pulled back from JJ to wipe at his face. "For real this time."

Sarah rubbed his back as JJ pulled his head to his. "We're both here. It's gonna take a lot more than a bullet, or a machete to take us down, right Princess?" JJ looked past JB at Sarah and managed to catch her scoff a smile. "See?"

John B managed a smile, and turned around to pull Sarah into him. He kissed her hair, and grabbed JJ's hand. "Can we just, stay here for a minute. Just so I can hold onto you guys for a bit longer?"

Sarah looked up at him and mumbled an "of course". JJ squeezed his hand and said, "Let me at least turn the TV on" as he moved to grab the remote.

After finding an infomercial to waste their brain cells on, John B laid on the couch with his head in JJ's lap, and Sarah curled into his side. They made it through two before JJ got their attention by clearing his throat.

"John B, I told Kie I would pick her up from work and take her to lunch today. Should I call and tell her just to come here?"

John B lifted his head to let JJ up to grab his phone. "Nah man, you go. I'm good now."

JJ stood over the two, John B looking up at him, Sarah watching their interaction. "You're sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just gonna lay low today. Tell Kie we said hi."

"You're 100% sure. You know you just have to say the word--"

"I know, say the word and you're here. I know. I promise, J, I'm good now."

"Alright." He did their handshake they made up in the fourth grade, and gave Sarah the "I'm-watching-you" fingers. "Princess. You keep an eye on him, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "What am I gonna do, JJ? Go let him play in traffic?"

"Hey!" He pointed at her. "You never know."

When JJ went to grab his stuff from his room, Sarah propped her head up on her boyfriend's chest. "You're sure you're okay if he goes?"

He kissed her forehead. "I'm sure." He gently pressed her head so she would lay back against him. "As long as I have one of you today, I think I'll be good."

"Since JJ's gonna be gone for a few hours, we could take a nice relaxing bath together?" she offered, sweeting the deal by telling him all about the new bubble bath she got.

"I could be down for a bath."

"I think it would be good to relax your body a little. I think you're still in that tense fight-or-flight mode."

He agreed. "Maybe a little."

She smiled up at him. "It's okay. I'll even give you a massage if it'll help."

"Oh I definitely think that'll help." He leaned down to kiss her, and only pulled away when he heard JJ's footsteps coming down the hallway.

"Ya know what I was just thinking about?" JJ offers as he walks into the dining room to grab his keys off the table.

"Do I want to know?" Sarah asked low enough so only John B could hear.

"What's that?" John B bit the line.

JJ stopped at the doorway to the living room and leaned against the doorjam, looking contemplative. "We could totally play in the rush hour traffic by the ferry!"

Sarah groaned and burried her head in John B's chest.

"JJ-" John B started.

"No, I'm serious. Think about it..."

John B didn't try and hide his facepalm.

"...There's all that standstill traffic while they wait for the ferry to come in, right? We could get a massive game of freeze tag going, maybe even bring a football into the mix? I totally think we could make a pass over three car lengths easy."

"JJ, don't you have to go get Kie?" Sarah reminded, trying to get him to focus on something else besides being a nusiance to the general public.

"I do. But I'm sure she's not gonna be down for this." He slung his backpack over his shoulder and tossed his keys in the air, catching them easily. "JB. You wanna try it tomorrow afternoon?"

"No." Sarah immediately answered.

"Ya know what," Sarah glared at her boyfriend. "I think we can make four,"

"YES!" JJ jumped.

"What! John B, no!"

"Alright, we'll talk logistics when I get home." JJ was already halfway to the door. "Love you JB. Bye Princess!"

"JJ!" Sarah was up and running after him before he even hit the doorway.

John B smiled to himself, settling back in to finish the special on how p90x would give him a lean, ripped body in 90 days.

#john b routledge #sarah cameron #john b x sarah cameron #john b x sarah writings #john b x sarah #john b x sarah angst #john b x sarah +JJ #John B's emotional support people #John B has PTSD #I mean they all do #John B struggles #hurt/comfort #jarah b #jarah b fics #jarah b hurt/comfort #sarah comforts John B #then calls in reinforcements #JJ comforts John B #belly writes #belly writes requests #bellylivesthepoguelife

[unsteadyimagines]

Bittersweet Reunion - Anon Request (Spencer Reid x Reader)

SUMMARY: “It’s when Spencer gets out of prison. Basically, it had been months and you both missed each other and you felt so bad about how beaten he had gotten so you go out of your way to take care of him.”

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: Smut

NOTE:

***Feedback is always welcome for future improvement!

——-

Defeat. Drained. Utterly exhausted. All of those painted on Spencer’s face as he’s discharged from prison. His wrongful imprisonment has clearly taken a toll on him, and I couldn’t feel more guilty. Mexico has clearly not treated him very well.

Seeing him for the first time in god knows how many months felt surreal. Spencer never allowed me to visit him whilst he was imprisoned, in fear of hurting me even more then he thinks he had already done so. In some ways I felt hurt thinking he didn’t want to see me all those months, but I now understand that he was just trying to protect me. However, seeing him now, in his defeated state, it’s now my job to protect him. Care for him, love him. I’d do anything to make sure he’s safe.

As soon as his glassy eyes meet mine, I can feel sobs rake my body whilst my legs move as fast as they can in the direction of Spencer. His arms are already out by the time I reach him, jumping into his shaky arms and feeling his familiar warm touch. Something I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine, if not faster. I run my fingers through his unruly hair, that’s one of his favourite feelings. Neither of us had uttered a word, not just yet. We’re both silent, content in the stillness we both emitted in an otherwise chaotic and overwhelming environment. When I hear quiet sniffles drawn from Spencer, I decide to break the silence.

“I missed you so much.” I muttered into his warm chest, never wanting to let go.

“I missed you too, so much.” Spencer replies, pulling me into his chest tighter, which seems impossible as we’re already as close to one another as we possibly could. Both of our bodies pressed firmly against the other, the heat increasing.

Once I pull away, I look up to see Spencer’s face plastered with a smile, which automatically makes my smile grow bigger and bigger. Spencer suddenly grabs my face in his hands and places his lips on mine in a sweet and gentle kiss, reminding me that we are still in the presence of prison officers. I pull away only for him to pepper my cheeks with kisses, making me giggle and pull away slightly. I nod my head in the direction of the car, signalling to Spencer that we should leave. Gripping my left hand tightly, Spencer laces our fingers together as we make our way to the parking lot.

The entire journey home Spencer’s hand gripped my thigh firmly, not wanting to physically be apart ever again. During the car ride, Spencer tells me how prison was, the good parts, if you could even call it that, and the not so good parts. My heart hurt hearing Spencer as he details the fights he got into, the treatment he received from prison officers and how alone he felt.

Once we arrive home and walk into the front door, I turn around and see Spencer standing there, taking everything in. The all too familiar house, the smells… everything. Watching him look around makes me feel so content and safe. My baby is finally home.

“Good to be home, huh?” I rhetorically ask, my eyes feeling like they may tear up again. Spencer chuckles, his mouth quivering slightly, obviously just as emotional as I am.

“You could say that.” Spencer answers, closing the door behind him and making a beeline straight towards me. His arms enclose around my body once again, although this time we don’t have numerous prison officers observing our reunion. I let out a big sigh, finally feeling like things are starting to get better. I can tell Spencer feels the same, his head resting on top of mine, not once loosening his grip.

I could stay in this position all day, I really could. But I knew Spencer was probably desperate for a proper shower, a home cooked meal and his comfortable bed.

Lightly giving his neck a kiss, I whisper in his ear. “Why don’t you get settled back in, take a shower and I’ll start cooking dinner for you.” Feeling Spencer’s head nod on mine, he hesitantly releases his grip and makes his way upstairs. Walking into the kitchen, I begin preparing what I hope is a delicious meal for Spencer, god knows what the food is like in prison. I’m assuming it’s not exactly what someone would call a five-star meal, anyway.

Trying to make Spencer feel at home again, I decided on cooking some Indian food, one of Spencer’s favourite cuisines and also picked up some chocolate donuts with sprinkles from his favourite bakery. I felt giddy with excitement having Spencer home and being able to do things like this for him again.

Approximately 20 minutes had passed, and Spencer still hadn’t returned downstairs. Turning all the pots to a low heat, I hurriedly make my way upstairs to check on him. Slowly walking into the bathroom, the room is covered in a thin cloud of steam and the sound of the shower remains. Through the thick cloud of steam I can see into the shower, Spencer’s hair is slicked back away from his face, leaning his forehead on his arms which are leaning on the shower wall, his head held down. His previously tired eyes are now closed, his breathing deep. 

Quietly closing the door behind me, I begin removing my clothes one at a time until I’m completely naked. I open the shower door and am met with the hot water cascading down my hair and onto my body, my muscles instantly easing. Pressing my front against Spencer’s back and wrapping my arms around him from behind, he jumps slightly at the contact before relaxing once he realises it’s me.

I give him a kiss on his back, resting my head gently there. Kissing my way around both of his wet shoulders makes me question if he expects anything to happen tonight. It could go either way - he’d be pretty exhausted but we also haven’t been intimate in months. I suppose it might be better for me to wait and see if he initiates anything.

Spencer turns and spins me around so it’s now my head that’s under the showerhead. I gasp softly at the hot water trickling down, enveloping me. Pulling me in, Spencer kisses me sweetly, running his hands through my soaked hair. I hum in delight, my eyes fluttering shut at the physical closeness I so dearly missed.

“Can I?” Spencer quietly asks, staring deeply into my eyes. I can see how vulnerable he is, his eyes darting back and forth across mine while waiting for my answer. Giving him a confused expression, I question him.

“Can you what?”

Rather than answering my question, like before, Spencer slowly meets his lips with mine, pulling me closer to him than before, his wet skin pressed against mine softly. The droplets cover our bodies as his tongue meets mine, our breaths becoming more laboured and quick. The feeling of our wet skin meeting each other’s is a feeling I’m sure we both missed incredibly.

I begin trailing kisses down Spencers body, his chest and stomach inhaling and exhaling deeply, reacting to my touch. Slowly making my way down his body until I’m on my knees, I reach his lower abdomen. Looking up I can see Spencer’s head thrown back, his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed. My hands grip both of his hips before I kiss his inner thighs, watching his eyes flutter at the sensitive area. I take his cock in my hands, slowly pumping him up and down, watching his reaction in awe. It’s been so long since I’ve seen Spencer in this vulnerable trance, it encourages me to continue. 

I can tell he’s had enough teasing, so I take him in my mouth, and I’m consumed with a warmth spreading through the entirety of my body when Spencer lets out a grunt, biting his lip. I coat his cock with my spit, putting my hands on his hips once again and wrapping my lips around him even deeper, shaking my head from side to side.

“Ugh fuck!” Spencer groans, bucking his hips up, causing my eyes to roll back and squeeze my nails into his sides. I can feel myself get even more turned on seeing him in such a state. A state that I caused.

Pulling back for a second to give myself a moment to breathe, I look up at him through my lashes, smirking when I see utter pleasure painted on his face. Closing my mouth around his cock again, Spencer runs his fingers through my long, damp hair before bunching it up at the back and holding it in a ponytail. His left hand has a strong grip on my hair - every few seconds he grips tighter, causing my roots to slightly sting, but in the best possible way. His right hand is stroking my face, while he mutters words of encouragement to me which causes me to moan loudly against his cock as I lap my tongue around in circles.

  “Fuck yes baby, you take me so well.” Spencer mouths through hisses, his release approaching quicker and quicker. Wanting to see him come undone, I begin pushing his hips back and forth towards me, signalling for him to take control. Spencer understands as he’s now gripping my hair with both of his hands and thrusting himself faster and deeper into my mouth, fucking my face.

“Oh Y-Y/N, that f-feels so… so good.” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching. I slowly snake one of my hands down to my inner thighs, running my wet fingers over my pussy and begin rubbing my clit. My moans reverberate onto Spencer’s cock, drawing him closer and closer to his climax.

By this point, nothing can come out of his mouth other than rugged pants and deep sighs. I take him out of my mouth and begin pumping him with my wet hand, while the other still works on my clit. My legs begin shaking at the immense pleasure that I too can feel my release coming. Jerking him hastily, Spencer’s head hits the shower wall behind him, causing drops of hot water to dribble down his panting body.

“Are you going to cum for me baby?” I ask innocently, looking up at Spencer’s face with a smirk.

Spencer’s instinctual response is to shut me up by forcing his cock back passed my lips, thrusting once again. His hips buck up into my mouth and I’m determined to make him finish. I remove my hand from my pussy and push his hips back against the shower wall to prevent him from moving.

“Shit! Right there… right there baby – yes! I’m gonna cum” Spencer gasps, holding my hair back again.

This time, I wrap my mouth around Spencer’s cock so deep I can feel him hitting the back of my throat, bringing tears to my eyes. I flinch in surprise when I feel Spencer’s whole body convulse, his hands immediately holding the back of my head when I feel him release down my throat.

He lets out a massive groan of pleasure, his knees bucking slightly before letting go of my head. I swallow and leave one last deep kiss on his groin area, standing up to meet Spencer’s hazy eyes, his smile lazily plastered over his face.

“I want to fuck you so bad.” He admits, kissing me sloppily. I moan into his mouth and wrap my arms around his neck. Spencer grips my ass and hoists me up, now wrapping my legs around his waist and opens the shower door. We slowly make our way from the bathroom to the bedroom soaking wet, but neither of us could care.

As soon as my eyes flutter open, they’re met with a light mist of smoke entering through the bedroom door, making me fumble out of Spencer’s arms and run downstairs and into the kitchen, leaving Spencer confused and slightly concerned.

“SHIT! YOUR DINNER!”

Tags: @emmalvei-blog​

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fics #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fics #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fics #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid gif #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid fanfiction smut #anon #anonymous #criminal minds anonymous #criminal minds anon #anonymous request

[iboughtaplant]

I tried to write angst! Here is a short Geraskier fic I wrote based on the Regina Spektor song Samson. 

A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light 

Rating: T

Warnings: no archive warnings 

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier 

Tags: Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Blood, Head Injury, Haircuts, Sort Of, Songfic, Song: Samson (Regina Spektor), a lot about Geralt's hair, I love Geralt's long hair so idk why I wrote a fic about his hair being chopped off

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s hair had always been long the whole time Jaskier knew him. Granted, Jaskier hadn’t known Geralt for very long compared to how old the witcher was.

When he first saw him, Jaskier was drawn to the quiet witcher seated in the corner. His long silver-white hair framing his handsome face. He was then of course drawn to the medallion and swords that marked him as a witcher. Not just excited to talk to a pretty face, but to hear the stories he could tell.

They might not have got off to the best start, but Jaskier...he loved Geralt. It might have been a bit of hero worship at first, this brave, strong witcher with a heart of gold. Branded as a mutant, a butcher, the stuff of nightmares in stories told to small children. But Jaskier loved him first. He loved Geralt above all else. His lute might be a close second, but that didn’t detract from the fact that he loved Geralt first.

It also meant he was already head over heels in love with Geralt when Geralt finally confessed that the love was mutual a few years into their friendship.

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

Soon after Geralt confessed his feelings, Jaskier also learned about how Geralt’s long hair was linked to his witcher abilities. He already knew that its silver-white color was due to Geralt’s mutagens, but he hadn’t known there was more to it.

They were in Oxenfurt and Jaskier’s hair was getting too long for his liking, so it was the perfect excuse to spend some of the coin he earned playing in a tavern the night before on a proper haircut from a barber.

“Geralt, you should come with me. I am sure I have enough coin to pay for you to get your hair trimmed.”

“It’s fine, Jaskier. It doesn’t need to be cut.”

“Well maybe it doesn’t need it, but a haircut can be nice and relaxing. I know you love when I wash your hair for you, and they will do that at the barber’s as well.”

“No, Jaskier, it doesn’t need to be cut because it is always the same length.”

“But doesn’t your hair grow? Is it magic that keeps it from growing out of control?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt answered with a “hmm.” He took a long pause before saying more. “It must be tied to the spells the mages used, however they might have changed the mutagens. I don’t know. I don’t cut my hair. And it doesn’t grow past a certain length.”

Geralt then told Jaskier that due to some odd reaction between his body, the extra mutagens, and the magic of the mages his hair was cursed to be tied to the abilities and heightened senses the mutagens afforded him.

Jaskier had thought that Geralt’s long hair had been his one vanity. But of course it was yet another thing out of his control. But it made him curious if Geralt was the only witcher whose hair was tied to his powers.

“I’ve never heard of another witcher with white hair like yours,” Jaskier said. He didn’t want to ask a more pointed question.

“Because I’m the only,” Geralt said, voice thick with emotion. “The only one to receive a second dose of mutagens. Well the only one to survive it at least. The mages experimented on others before me, but I was the only one to survive the ordeal.”

“That’s awful, my love. I’m sorry you had to endure that.” He paused. “And I know it won’t make you feel better about it, but it is quite dashing, if I do say so.” Jaskier said, edging closer to Geralt and running his nimble fingers through the soft strands.

“How about I forgo the haircut and we can spend our coin on that nice soap you pretend you don’t like. I’ll wash your hair for you. And then we can braid it. A bit of a change even if you can’t cut it.”

“I’d like that,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

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

The yellow-orange light of the campfire made everything glow. The atmosphere felt far more comfortable than the current situation. But Jaskier was thankful for the light it granted. Jaskier scrambled to dig his scissors out of his pack and make his way back to Geralt, unconscious on the ground, only his thin bedroll under him.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Jaskier whispered through his tears to Geralt’s unconscious form as he took the scissors—considerably duller than he would have liked, he had forgotten to ask Geralt to sharpen them for him recently—and began to cut away Geralt’s silver locks that were stained red by blood and gore matted in them.

Unfortunately, most, if not all, of the blood belonged to Geralt, the gore belonging to the beast he killed, but not before it almost killed him.

Jaskier’s hands were shaking, he had to grip the scissors with both hands, one hand supporting the other. He had to cut Geralt’s hair. He had to. They were in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere. No towns were close enough to travel to with an injured witcher. Not to mention the fact that Geralt had already been running low on potions. They were going to restock on potion ingredients in the next town they visited. But again said town was too far to travel when Geralt was severely injured and Jaskier was only human, and would not make it there and back with help in time.

The gash on the back of his skull was nasty. Jaskier knew that head wounds bled profusely regardless of their severity, but this one was quite bad and even a witcher could die from bleeding out.

He kept whispering apologies to an unconscious Geralt as he cut away, piece by piece, the tangled, matted hair and clumps of monster gore to better see the wound. The bleeding had hardly slowed, and Geralt had also lost blood from a thin slice down his side. At least the bleeding of that wound had slowed and Jaskier had been able to crumple up one of their shirts to put pressure on it and wrap a bandage around it.

The head wound was much more worrying. Once Geralt’s hair was mostly cut away, Jaskier was able to clean the wound with the water from his water skin, some alcohol from a flask as an antiseptic.

It was a rough job, but at least the wound was cleaned and the bleeding finally slowed. From his kneeling position, Jaskier finally sank down onto his heels. He could feel the sticky tear tracks down his cheeks. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He felt the tackiness of the blood still on his hands.

Geralt’s hair had been covered in blood, only fitting that his was now. Geralt’s blood. It was Geralt’s blood on his hands and he hated it.

Once the adrenaline started to wear off, Jaskier realized his hands were shaking again. Or maybe they had been shaking the whole time. It was still an odd sensation as his hands were always steady. Geralt pointed it out many a time when he had to guide Jaskier through stitching him up over the years.

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

Once Jaskier was done stitching and bandaging, all he could do was wait. Sit and wait for Geralt to wake up. He felt anxious and tired at the same time. Excess energy thrummed through him while his limbs felt heavy like lead.

He looked at his lute, but felt no compulsion to play it. He should probably eat, but any food would probably taste like ash in his mouth.

He laid back on his bedroll and tried to relax. He would be no use to Geralt when he woke up, if he was keyed up and anxious. He sighed and stretched out, his arms pillowed beneath his head as he stared up at the sky.

The stars were bright, twinkling spots of light speckling the inky sky. It made the world feel big, and made him feel small. He was but a small speck in the grand scheme of things. He glanced over at Geralt and felt a smile cross his face. Geralt was more beautiful than all the stars in the sky and twice as bright. The stars were just old light.

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

Jaskier was woken up by Geralt sitting down on the edge of his bedroll. He didn't even remember falling asleep. Geralt was slow to sit down as he leaned against Jaskier’s legs, his injuries taking a toll. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if it was more than usual. Was Geralt human now? Did his witcher healing at least do its part before Jaskier cut his hair?

He was pulled out of his spiral when Geralt spoke. “Your hair’s red.” Geralt said in a slur.

“What?” Jaskier asked, scandalized and afraid. Of course of all things Geralt was focusing on his hair, oh the irony. Jaskier also had the thought that somehow Geralt was seeing the blood in his hair from when he ran his hands through it earlier.

“In the light, looks red,” Geralt mumbled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier sobbed. In the light of the fire—that he somehow managed to keep burning—his hair looked red. He buried his head in his hands, still curled up on his bedroll. He felt his tears plastering his hands to his face. He couldn’t look at Geralt. He couldn’t face his honey-golden eyes, full of softness that betrayed his hard edges.

He essentially killed the man he loved. Maybe that was a bit dramatic. But Geralt is, well was a witcher. Jaskier just took that away from him when he chopped all of his hair off. His beautiful silver hair. Jaskier knew that Geralt was more than his hair, he almost cried when Geralt admitted that he loved when Jaskier told him all the things he loved about him and his hair wasn’t near the top of the list.

Geralt leaned more heavily into Jaskier and sighed. Jaskier removed his hands from his face and looked up at the love of his life, his greatest downfall. He stifled another sob that threatened to come out and looked at Geralt.

“My head hurts.” Geralt said in a small voice that was out of character for him. He sounded so vulnerable.

“You had, well have, a head wound. It was bad. Oh Geralt it was so bad. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You saved me.”

“But at what cost, my love?”

Geralt didn’t answer his question. He just said, “My hair’s gone isn’t it.”

Jaskier sat up and wrapped his arms around Geralt, situating himself behind him so Geralt was in the vee of his legs, still on Jaskier’s bedroll, Geralt’s abandoned a few feet away.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered wetly into Geralt’s shoulder, lightly trailing his fingers down Geralt’s arm.

“You did good, Jask.”

“Don’t tell me that. How can you say that? I took it. I took your strength. I took it all. I-I, I hurt you.”

“No, the monster hurt me, you saved me.”

“Are you even a witcher anymore? Can you tell? If I took that away from you, I-”

“I never wanted to be a witcher, Jask,” Geralt said as he leaned his head back against Jaskier. He let out a slight hiss of pain and Jaskier felt a hand was squeezing his heart at the sound.

“I’m sorry. I am. But I had to save you. I couldn’t watch you bleed out. It was the only way.”

“You did alright, Jaskier.” He paused. “Wanna see you, help me turn around.”

Jaskier sucked in a breath. He knew he would have to meet Geralt’s eyes eventually. He helped Geralt turn around in his arms and supported most of his weight as he leaned into Jaskier. He looked into Jaskier’s eyes and Jaskier looked back. He looked into those honey-gold eyes and he felt settled. Geralt wasn’t mad. Jaskier took in Geralt’s face. It was clean, Jaskier had made sure of that. And his hair, of course, was short. Silver strands cropped close to his scalp, uneven in a few—well many—places. The bandages wrapped around the crown of his head. He was beautiful.

Geralt kissed Jaskier then. And Jaskier kissed back. Geralt kept kissing him. Soft, gentle kisses. Comforting kisses. They laid down on Jaskier’s bedroll, Jaskier pulling Geralt’s body on top of his own so he could support him, so his head wouldn’t touch the ground. Geralt insisted on kissing him more. He kissed him until the morning light broke through the trees of the forest surrounding them in golden light.

#the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #songfic #jaskier #my writing

[odelschwanky]

Change of Heart (Ikkaku Madarame x Reader)

Word Count: 2057

"C'mon! You're not gonna get any better if you keep slacking off like that!"

You slump over, leaning on your sword. You were so sick to your stomach. It was fraying your last nerve, trying not to lose your lunch while you attempt to keep up with your lieutenant. He was as fervent as ever with the training and you were just... struggling.

The tip of your sword screeched against the stone of the training ground as you charged him again. You drug it up and brought the hilt alongside your cheek in a less than eloquent stab. Your style was usually so smooth, delicate, beautiful. Right now, you were floundering. There was hardly anything aesthetically pleasing about your form right now.

You couldn't help it. You weren't getting much sleep these days. Every day seemed to bring more and more challenges whether it was paperwork or meetings with the squad or that mess with the former Captain Aizen. It didn't matter how much you had to do, it never truly healed your unhappiness. Truthfully... you had been awful.

Most days, you'd be in your room at the barracks with the blinds shut for as long as you could muster before duty called you to be somewhere else. Today was one of those days. Exhaustion plagued you due to weeks with no rest and the emptiness was too much to bear. The only thing that could get your mind off things was having the living shit beaten out of you by your lieutenant.

"Sloppy!" 

Ikkaku called this, deflecting your attack with ease. He grabbed the sleeve of your shihakusho with his free arm and used it to toss you to the ground.

You landed hard, the stone scraping your hands. You held back a sniffle. Your hair gathered your sweat and clung to your forehead. You swiped at it, as your lieutenant loomed over you, blocking out the last orange rays of the sun.

The wind in the Seireitei was gentle at this time in the evening, the leaves from the trees scattered about by it. Long shadows were cast by the dying evening light and the taste of autumn carefully kissed your senses. You could hardly concentrate on any of these beautiful things, as your training session with Madarame fuku-taichou proved grueling.  They always were, but today was the worst.

"Fuku-taichou..." you heaved raggedly. You wanted to stop. Your shoulders hunched as you lay there, peering up at him. Tiny droplets of moisture twinkled on his chest in the light and the shine of his skin was brighter than the sun behind. He had taken off his shitagi and kosode when you two had begun. They lay in a heap, leaving your lieutenant with a bare chest rippling with the sinew of muscle. You eyed them as they descended into his hakama, which were soaked in sweat. You figured you were sweating just as much, now covered in dirt as well.

Your sword had been knocked from your hands and skidded over, out of your reach. You resisted the urge to make any type of excuse. He had taught you that "excuses were not what made a good shinigami". You remember his words in full.

"What is it?" He glowered, looking you up and down. He was waiting for you to ask for a break, or to quit. He should know that it wasn't in your nature to give up. You'd show him.

"Nothing."

You struggled to your feet and walked to retrieve your sword. Gripping it in your hands, you turn back to your lieutenant with a newfound zeal. You charged him again, your blade a little more refined. You swung and slashed and he dodged your attacks fluently, countering in spurts. The clashing of metal and wood echoed throughout the courtyard, and it kept you sharp. Your narrow eyes fixated on Ikkaku's every movement and through your fatigue, you could still predict his movements. He was not getting the better of you.

He smirked, bringing the point of his spear down on your harshly. It took both of your hands to steady your sword against it, one on the blade and the other on the hilt. You gritted your teeth, swearing under your breath. You could see the notch form in your weapon, where Ikkaku's blade cut into the shiny silver metal. You pushed one hard time and flew back, giving yourself time to regroup.

"Giving up?" He barked, stretching himself like a bored dog. This made you shrink in shame. You were giving your all and he seemed like he was just getting started.

You shook your head. Your mouth had gone dry and your vision was fuzzy. Ikkaku's form blurred quickly and suddenly he was...

Sideways? 

Your limbs felt heavy and your head felt light. It didn't even hurt when you hit the ground and the last thing you saw was your lieutenant rushing to your side, his weapon clattering on the ground behind him. You could faintly hear your name before you faded from consciousness.

"(Y/n)! Hey! (Y/n)..."

***

It was cold in the room, and pretty dark now that you opened your eyes. You were on the ground in a simple shikibuton. Your fingers grasped for the blanket that was loosely around your shoulders. A shiver tore through your body and although you fought it, it rattled you through.

A figure sat beside you in the dark and it almost strained your eyes to decipher it. You could see that tell-tale bald head from anywhere. He didn't bother putting his clothes back on from training.

"Fuku-taichou?"

Ikakku was up in a moment, fussing over you in a way that you weren't at all used to. A calloused hand smoothed back the hair from your forehead and the other gently cupped your neck. His touch warmed you up. From your core to your stomach, to your neck and face, you were just one big blushing mess. You thought it was best not to talk. You didn't want to embarrass yourself.

"Hey, there." He chuckled in relief and you could help but notice the nervousness in his voice.

"Hey..." you choked out. Your eyes did a once over of his face, searching for something that might tell you what this was all about. You had never seen your lieutenant so high strung. He was normally a Type B, who loved to fight just like the rest of your squad. He was never too worried about anything... He definitely seemed worried now.

A sharp pain pierced through your consciousness. You couldn’t really tell where it was coming from. This probably meant your spiritual pressure had decreased to almost nothing. You held your head and winced, causing your lieutenant to hold you a little tighter. 

You didn't want to tell him he was squeezing you.

"Hey... take it easy, will ya? You passed out in the middle of training."

That's right. You did. It was so sudden, you didn't even see it coming. It was all those wondrous weeks of sleepless nights and stressful paperwork. And on top of all that, Ikkaku never let you rest your laurels. Always training, always improving, always fighting.

"Oh," you groan, trying to sit up. Ikkaku helped you, using his hand to steady your waist. There were those stupid butterflies again. Why was he being so nice to you? Maybe he felt guilty for running you into the ground.

"Hey... (y/n)?"

You looked at him in his face. His eyes were cast down and he seemed sheepish. This was very unlike him. You grabbed his hand, thinking it would help him speak.

"Unohana said that you were really weak when you came in here. Not just from training... but for the past few weeks. She said you haven't slept... Is she telling the truth?"

His raspy voice got the better of you. You didn't dare lie to your lieutenant.

"Yeah... It's true."

Ikkaku sighed, gently letting go of you and rubbing his head in frustration.

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?"

You shrugged. It was just a private thing. You didn't want to make excuses as to why you weren't your best. You didn't think he'd understand anyway. When he was sad or angry or even happy, Ikkaku's only solution to everything was training or fighting. You just weren't that way, not like you used to be.

"I just didn't want to bother anybody with my problems... especially you. You expect a lot out of me... I didn't want to let you down, Madarame."

Ikkau huffed, folding his arms. "Listen. Drop the stinkin' formalities. I'm Ikkaku, alright. We've been knowing each other forever."

You nod slowly. It was true. You two had known each other for as long as you'd been a part of the Gotei 13. All this time... you'd been pushing away feelings for him because, well, his one true love was the heat of battle. You didn't think he had time for you.

"Okay," you relent. He didn't seem satisfied until you repeated his familiar name.

"Ikkaku."

The way it rolled off your lips was... right.

"And second, you'll never let me down. Ever."

He grabs your hand again and squeezes it tight.

You couldn't help but laugh. As abrasive and aggressive as Ikkaku could be, this soft side was kind of adorable. You weren't used to it at all and truth be told, it scared you a little, but you were happy to see he actually cared about you rather than just keeping you around to use for a personal punching bag.

"Now what's this about you, not sleepin'?"

You looked away from him. "I don't really... know." You try to explain your struggles with your emotions and the abuse your sleep schedule puts you through. By the end of it, you're tired of trying to find the words and you're not even sure if it makes sense. All the while Ikkaku sits by your side and listens intently.

"It sounds to me like you're stressed out, and you don't have anybody to listen to you. You need comfort."

You paused. Ikkaku had hit the nail on the head. These past few weeks have been nothing but stress and worry and sadness. You didn't tell anybody how you felt and well... bottling it up had taken its toll on you.

"Am I right?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah. You're right." You were honestly very surprised.

Ikkaku laughs. "Well... I guess this is a good enough time as any."

Ikkaku climbs underneath the covers with you, much to your alarm. A flush fills your face and your heart rate quickens to the point where you think you're going to faint again.

"W-w-what are you doing?!"

Ikkaku shrugs and smirks. "I'm comforting you. And I'm listening."

You couldn't do much as he wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you close to him. The moonlight spilled in from the windows onto the floor of Squad 4's med room. It was empty in here except for the two of you, making you feel a little better. Ikkaku's presence did calm you... when he wasn't trying to kill you.

When you were face to face with him, close enough to feel each other's soft breaths, he spoke again.

"Actually. Can you just listen to me for a second?"

You nod inquisitively. You wondered what he had to say.

"Uh... (y/n). I'm sorry I've been so hard on you. I should've noticed."

You never broke the bond between your eyes. "It's okay." You assure him this, letting him envelop you further.

"No... it's not. I don't ever want to see you this way again. Especially if I'm the one who is hurting you like this."

"You're not hurting me, Ikkaku. You're here right now, holding me and helping me."

He quietly laughs but a small hint of disapproval in the turn of his lips. "Don't comfort me. I'm supposed to be comforting you! The point is, I'm always gonna be here. So I'm gonna start caring for you... like I should have a long time ago."

You were at a loss for words. So Ikkaku beats the living shit out of you, you pass out and you wake up in an alternate reality where he's confessing his feelings for you? At this point, you don't even want to question it. It's a dream come true, so you'll leave it at that.

"How does that sound?"

You inch forward and place a gentle kiss on his lips. They tasted like alcohol, which you weren't surprised by. It was a comforting taste. Ikkaku's hands snake around your shoulders more firmly now as he tightens his hold around you. You laugh a little, touching his chest gingerly.

"It sounds... perfect."

#ikkaku madarame #ikkaku x reader #bleach x reader #bleach anime #bleach fanfiction

[utterlyinevitable]

After seeing ur explanation for that anon i really want to see a fic or a hc of ethan as a dad and becca as mom can u please do it??

omg okay ahhh my babys having babies. this is gonna be long and idk if it’ll make sense bc imma jot down everything i know about domestic e&b.  

[just finished and... this is long and broken down into 6 categories........... enjoy!]

Ethan & Becca as Parents

The Pregnancy 

They didn’t plan on having children, it just kind of happened. Becca and Ethan took a day for the news to settle before they jumped into excited, expecting parents mode.

The most exciting part was renovating the condo to make the most perfect nursery and shopping for decorations and mentally planning all the traditions and things they’d love to give to their little family. 

All of the happiness couldn’t mask the struggles of pregnancy. 

Becca hated being pregnant. She was sick and nauseous constantly, and her back and feet always ached. 

Throughout the whole thing Ethan doted on her; holding her hair back and learning how to tie it up in the way she likes, rubbing her back, running out to get whatever she was craving. 

He even made copious amounts of notes about her eating patterns. Enough to keep two of everything in the condo. 

If she was having a restless night, he would too; even if she was restless for non-human-growing reasons. 

They were in this together.

And even when she was huddled over a garbage pail, dribble running down her chin, she never looked more beautiful to him. 

There was just something about all this that made him feel all weird and fuzzy inside. 

When her symptoms barely settled throughout the second trimester she overhauled her entire birthing plan. There was no way she was making it to 42 weeks. She was absolutely miserable. So she made a c-section appointment for 40 weeks. 

She had an entire argument with Ethan one evening (she really was only yelling while he nodded his head). Her main points were:  “It’s my body and the baby will be fine. I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out fantastic!” and  “Once the baby’s out of me I’m still going to have to pee. Omg what if she rips me open!? How am I supposed to use the bathroom without worrying about my stitches?”  

All he kept reiterating was:  “I love you. I trust you and your instincts.” 

Becca felt better as he held her face in his large hands, his calming azure eyes boring into hers and letting her know everything will be alight. 

But deep down she spent the next few weeks since making the appointment wondering if she should have given vaginal birth a try. She didn’t want Ethan to resent her for chickening out of her body’s natural function. 

The Birth 

Becca made it to her c-section appointment. Happily rubbing her large belly and glowing:  “I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore! Never do this to me again.” 

All Ethan did was chuckle. 

He was happy she was getting color back and that her symptoms finally settled enough for her to spend the last few weeks enjoying their daughters kicks. But oh my god was Ethan Ramsey terrified of being a father. 

He wouldn’t tell Becca though. She was emotional and worried enough as is. Any and all his concerns were saved for the short conversations he had with his father.  “Don’t overthink it, son. The moment you lay eyes on your daughter you’ll know what to do. It’s instinct. Biology. That was your best subject in school, wasn’t it?” Alan would joke.  

The surgery went off without a hitch. 

All of Becca’s hatred for the phenomenon of pregnancy vanished the second the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. 

Rebecca was in awe. She made that! This little person came out of her! This little pink person that looks like a plucked chicken with a tiny tuft of brown hair was here and she was beautiful. The perfect combination of her and Ethan. 

The embodiment of their love.   

Dakota Dolores Ramsey was completely unplanned. Unplanned but not unwanted.  

The first time Ethan Ramsey held his daughter time froze. The universe needed a minute to process the broad grin and full heart thumping rapidly from this stoic and reserved man. 

The earth was about to spin the wrong way but then Dakota opened her eyes.

Everything was the way divinity had planned it.  

At Home

Although Ethan and Becca lived a 10 minutes drive from Edenbrook, nearly a straight run, Becca forced him to drive as slow as possible. 

Dakota was asleep and she needed to keep it that way. 

Due to her stitches, Becca was forced to take things easy. No matter how many times she argued with Ethan that she was capable of menial tasks around the house. 

Ethan would not let her lift a finger. 

If Dakota needed a change he’d happily do it. if Becca was hungry he’d make her favorite. 

“You had her to yourself for nine months. Let me take the next few days.” Becca went to retort, all she wanted was to hold her baby for the rest of eternity. She’d never tire of looking at her scrunched up potato face and watching as her features changed every moment of every day. “I promise to share.” “You better,” she kissed him as he tucked her into bed for a much needed nap.

The only thing he was forced to share with his partner was feeding duty - Becca was adamant on breast feeding. A bottle would not touch their daughters lips for months to come. 

That in itself brought its own challenges. 

Most nights Ethan laid in bed with Becca curled up at his side in one arm and Dakota resting on his bare chest. 

Parenting was weird, but an exhilarating change. 

Ethan couldn’t diagnose what he could have possibly have done right in his life to be this wholly happy. 

The Second

Once Ethan and Becca had one child they were both itching for a second.

“You know what say: ‘if you have one you have to have two’.” “Is that so?”  “You don’t want Dakota to have a sibling?”  “I was an only child and look how I turned out.”  “Emotionally stunted and certified loner?” she teased. 

Truth be told, Ethan wanted another. He’s been thinking of giving his pride and joy a few siblings for weeks now. He just didn’t know how to tell Becca. 

Becca complained frequently about how happy she was to not be pregnant, and often about how her scar healed funnily. 

All of the signs pointed to her not wanting another. And Ethan was okay with that. He never expected to have one child. He’d cherish every moment of what’s been placed right in his fingertips. 

He’ll let his soon-to-be wife choose their path. She’s dictated everything else thus far. Ethan was elated she chose him to be along for the ride. 

After Dakota’s first birthday, when they made the decision to have another, they tried desperately to conceive.

“I really don’t want to have to deal with diapers for five years,” was Becca’s main reason for keeping the kids close in age.  “We can try surrogacy.” Ethan offered, knowing how much she hated pregnancy. He didn’t want to push her into anything.    “No. I have to do it. I’ll do it for our kids. But you owe me big time.”  

And 14 months later Caroline Marie Ramsey made her grand appearance. 

And Becca got her first push present. 

The Last 

It’s fitting that four years later Ethan and Becca were blessed with another surprise. 

Her pregnancy with James Jonah was the smoothest of them all. 

Of course that meant something had to go wrong. 

At 34 weeks Becca went into premature vaginal labor. 

Within six hours their baby boy arrived. 5lbs 2oz and looking like an alien. 

Ethan almost lost them both after the fact. 

Becca lost too much blood with the placenta and JJ was so tiny.  

But the Lao’s were fighters and they pulled through. Ethan cried at her bedside once the harrowing 24 hours were up. 

Becca stayed at the hospital for a week, Ethan and Alan bringing the girls to visit every single day. 

JJ had to stay a few days longer and Becca refused to leave until she could bring her son home. 

She went through her first experience with postpartum depression. Becca didn’t think anything could be worse than the mental toll her abortion had on her years earlier. But she was wrong.

She was so wrong. 

All their friends chipped in to help take care of the kids while Ethan devoted his time to helping his wife. The couple went to therapy, sometimes together, other times Ethan sat in the waiting room as Becca worked through her emotions. 

Months later, the parents were sitting at home. Ethan held their son and their daughters were curled on their laps: He muttered into his wife’s hair, “I’d like to have one more.”  “Not with me you’re not,” she scoffed. “We’re outnumbered as is.” 

JJ began to cry and the girls stirred. Dakota mumbling, “Tell the baby to shut up, I’m sleeping here.” 

They couldn’t help but laugh and pull apart to put their whole world to bed.  

Old and graying and spending more time at home with his kids, Ethan wanted just one more baby. Four was a strong, even number. He could have a whole daycare full of them - each one the best variations of him and Becca. 

Becca had spent a large portion of her 30s childrearing and she’s done. Done with diapers and formula, especially. She loves her children more than anything but they’re exhausting. She can’t wait for them to be in school full time and she can have some more alone time with her husband. It’s been so long since it’s been just them too.  

“Don’t hate me...”  “I could never hate you,” Ethan said as he brushed a few strands of hair from his wife’s face.  She swallowed and confidently said, “I want you to get a vasectomy.” 

He agreed without further consideration. She made a very compelling argument.  

Parenting 

Ethan is the doting helicopter dad and Becca is doctor drill sergeant. The kids get away with nothing under their mother’s watch. 

Ethan is very soft and adores his children. The grumpy attending could have a whole gaggle of them. He spoils his daughters rotten, picking up the newest doll and toy they’re obsessed with, and making them promise not to tell mommy. 

The women in Ethan’s life get away with everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the girls were born, Ethan stepped back at work letting the better Dr. Ramsey have her career defining moments.

He took half days to pick the girls up from preschool and would bring them to the park or museums. He’d even try to teach them to cook their favorite recipes on cold, rainy days. He’d tire them out so that he and mom could tuck them in after dinner.

Ethan’s afraid of his son. He’s afraid the tot is going to turn out exactly like him - he’s the spitting image, except that his hair curls like his mother’s. 

Instead of putting JJ in fulltime daycare, Ethan chose part time preschool. The girls were in primary school now and he’s taken a bigger step back from the hospital after the baby was born. 

He devotes all his free time to teaching his son about all he knows and learning all he doesn’t.  

Becca complains about the state of her vagina and stomach all the time. Never in front of the children but often enough Ethan knows the look on her face right before she says the same two lines.  

Her favorite activity is building forts and taking the kids to the beach. 

The holidays have never felt more alive with the full house. Ethan even became a Christmas and Valentines Day lover. 

Becca loved watching him change over the years. Every new first they celebrated with each child, every one of their kids passions, Ethan would adopt them all and make it his mission to be a connoisseur of every facet.

Dakota sat her parents down one day with a serious topic of conversation: “Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to be a fashion designer.” “Will you?”  “Yes. And I need to dress myself.” “As long as it’s weather appropriate, consider it done.”  “And we need to get supplies.” 

The conversation went on for 15 minutes with Ethan and Becca asking questions and Dakota making demands. Once they’ve settled on an agreement on how to make their daughter’s dream happen, Ethan retired to his office. He taught himself the basics of sewing.     

Even with all the struggles of raising three children in a suburb of Boston while balancing very demanding medical careers, Ethan and Becca wouldn’t have it any other way. The life they carved out of all their complications was worth it.  

All of this was inevitable. 

And they wouldn’t take a moment for granted.    

________________________________________

Um... this became bigger than intended... If you made it this far, thank you ♥

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble e @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @kaavyaethanramsey @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @claredal424 @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart t @casey-v @ramseyandrys @peaceinmidstofchaos

#Anonymous #asked #this was a lot of word vomit #did not edit at all #don't let this flop #reblog for the 3 kids ethan and becca need to support #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic

[jungcity]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥.

genre: romance, fantasy, erotica

au: fallen angel, reincarnation

pairing: jung jaehyun x female reader

note: This is a work of fiction. The portrayal of the celebrities included in this story does not reflect their true nature in real life. I am just using them as a way to bring life into the story and to give entertainment to readers. Concerning the plot which is about Lucifer, I do not— in any means— sympathize with the devil and I do not intend to offend any religion. Furthermore, I discourage you to continue reading if you feel uncomfortable with this type of stories. I’d appreciate it if you'll leave some feedbacks! Thank you so much!

“he was the worse of his kind—

dared the Almighty with

pride in his mind.

banished from heaven,

the infamous fallen.

the one you cannot tame;

lucifer, that is his name.”

Unable to process the words printed out in the sheet of paper that was in your hands, you stare dat your termination contract with dread slowly creeping up into your face. Maybe you want to scream or to cry– heck, you have no idea what to feel as yet another hindrance towards a stable life lay heavy in your palms. An exhausted exhale of breath escaped your lips as the realization hit you– you were indeed terminated by the management of the fast-food chain you were working on for the reason that they could not meet their quota anymore and they had to terminate some employees. Unfortunately, you are one of those workers.

You have witnessed as the same dread fell upon your co-workers while they skimmed the paper in their hands. The fast-food chain stood as your only means to support yourself and your sister, so you never once took it for granted and did your work diligently despite the low wages and the awful workplace it had offered. Now, you have to find another job or else you will surely die of hunger.

You do have a talent in arts, and you graduated with a fine arts degree. But life after college was beyond what you had expected when you were still studying. You had anticipated to have a stable job suited for your skills, but life did not go as you planned. Your mother fell sick and died a year after you graduated, leaving you and your sister all alone. From that day onwards, you became the modern Atlas who carried the world in your shoulders. Yet you couldn’t complain. And despite all of the hardships, you only felt the need to take care of your little sister even more.

You continued walking the side streets like a ragged doll being pulled sluggishly by whatever force there was, thinking of other ways to get by tomorrow. Being jobless wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t have another mouth to feed. Your sister will be a freshman in college next year, and that’s the sole reason why you needed to work your butt off harder than before. And life isn’t really helping right now. So you grabbed your phone and rang your best friend’s number. She picked up after fifteen seconds.

“Hey, gorge—”

“I am jobless,” you greeted Soojin. There was a surprised ‘oh’ in the other line and you could imagine your best friend looking at you pitifully. It made you bite your lower lip to fight the urge to cry in front of the judging eyes of the city.

“Tell me, is there something I can do to help?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I am deep in fucking debt and Yuqi’s going to college soon. I couldn’t possibly pay for our rent with my current situation— oh. I am a mess!” You heaved a deep sigh, your chest constricting from all the emotions you were keeping locked up inside you. Different set of eyes were on you as you tried not to crumple in the side streets. There were adults giving you sympathetic looks and children almost laughing at you.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N! Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale!” You did as you were told. Gulping a large amount of air, you didn’t even bother how polluted it was now that you were in the heart of the town. You have to get a new job before you lose your mind.

“Okay, is everything calmer now?” Soojin asked.

“Yes. Yes,” you replied, still taking deep breaths.

“I could recommend a job, Y/N.”

Your ears perked up. “I’m listening.”

“But it wouldn’t be an easy one,” she sighed on the other line before continuing, “The job is right here in Jung’s Fiscals. Luckily for you, the former secretary of Mr. Jung decided to resign today; rumor has it that it’s because of the cold and ruthless demeanor of our CEO. I know you’re fit for the job because you’re one hell of a hard working bitch. However, I want you to give it a thought. Mr. Jung is not someone to mess with. Heck, he does not even—”

You replied before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, “I’ll take it. I’m really not in the position to say no to a job right now, am I? I badly need one so whatever the character of this Mr. Jung, I’d cooperate with him.”

You heard your best friend sigh in defeat. She knows you too well to try to stop you. So she simply directed you to prepare your resumé and other documents for the interview tomorrow.

“God! Thank you!” You kissed the mic of your phone as thanks to your best friend-slash-life savior.

You were too desperate to even think about her advice and the possibility of the CEO mistreating you. As long as there is money in your card to support your sister and food on your table, you are always ready to serve anyone— even if that person was forged straight from the womb of the devil.

All energetic and ready to take the challenge of the world again, you blew your friend one last kiss before ending the call and trudging towards the bus stop.

It was a night of simple ready-to-eat-ramen pack. Your sister had already known about your termination and currently feels bad that there is nothing she could do to help.

“It’s okay. Worry about school and nothing else, Yuqi,” you told her. The younger girl pouted her lips, reluctance clear on her face. “And I could not possibly let you work. We know enough not to overwork you.”

She has a weak stamina. Asthmatic since she was a kid, you never allowed her to do any part-time jobs for the fear that it would take a toll on her health. You couldn’t afford to lose the only relative you have, so every attempt of hers to help you boils down to nothing.

“I mean, who am I in this household? I don’t want to be a leech, sucking all your money and energy like that.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Yuqi, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. This is nothing, really.”

Even though you had almost lost your mind earlier thinking about the fact that you were indeed jobless, you tried to show your strong façade and smiled encouragingly to your sister. The least that you want right now is to worry her.

“Not to mention that you have to work in that wretched company– where the CEO is Jung Jaehyun. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about him, you know. They say he fucks—”

“Language, please,” you warned with a glare.

Yuqi rolled her eyes before continuing, “They say, he brings famous models into his penthouse every single night. And some say he does it even in his own office.” She talked while pointing her chopstick at you, munching her food deliciously like it was the best ramen she has ever tasted.

“Well, let’s be glad I am not a model then.” You shrugged. The both of you laughed.

She rambled about Jung Jaehyun the whole dinner with you, half-listening to her. Yuqi almost sounded like she was a fan and you seriously couldn’t grasp the need to be cautious towards Jung Jaehyun. You were hell-bent to impress him tomorrow that you refused to indulge yourself around the bad rumors circulating his name and well-being. All that matters to you is you are going to get that job, and you will do your best to stay in that office long enough to support your sister’s education.

This is the day where your fate is divided into two. You have a chance to make everything better for you and your sister, or you can prove that your life has been cursed and there is no more hope to rescue it from the depths of poverty.

The fate is in your hands and right now, your palms are sweating and your hands are trembling. Shaking your head and clearing your mind— with a determined heart— you trudge inside the thirty-story building of Jung’s Fiscals.

You were greeted by your best friend, Soojin. She was wearing a slightly loose pencil skirt paired with simple white polo sleeves. Her hair was styled into a neat bun, just like any other girl at the front desk. You have presumed that that would also be your hairstyle once you got the job.

“You got this,” Soojin mumbled as she led you towards the elevator. Unfortunately for you, she couldn’t accompany you all the way to Mr. Jung’s office for the reason that the building is buzzing with work and she couldn’t leave her position at the front desk for too long. You wave her a nervous goodbye before pushing the button on to the 28th floor.

There was really something about CEOs preferring to locate their offices on the top floor of their building. It was not like you mind, but you truly couldn’t believe that it really happens in real life. You once thought that they only appear in televisions.

Surrounded by the shiny metal covers of the elevator’s interior, you decided to check on your clothes and overall appearance. You have picked your best set of formal clothes for this day because you obviously wanted to impress the CEO and look presentable on your possible first day of work.

After a few minutes of standing alone inside the shiny elevator, it finally dinged and opened. You step outside, eyes roaming around the surroundings before taking a step forward. A nice and wide room greeted you as you walked through. The secretary’s table was made of polished wood, with the company’s logo engraved in gold. There were sets of black marble columns at the back and two comfortable armchairs in front of the secretary’s table to serve as a waiting area.

A woman, with the same bun as Soojin, stood up from her seat to greet you. Unlike your best friend, she was wearing a brown blazer that slightly hugged her waist and a fitted black dress underneath it. In your own opinion, she was too young to resign in this prestigious company. Which made your mind fall back into thinking that maybe the rumors were true– that the CEO, indeed, mistreats his employees.

“Good morning, Miss. Mr. Jung is ready to meet you.” She greeted with a slight bow. Her whole aura screamed professionalism. Something that you were not acquainted with— being a former waitress at a fast-food chain. All you had to do was take orders and smile and obey inquiries but you had never, ever, worked in a place where those aforementioned skills were almost nothing compared to the huge building that you were— hopefully— going to work in. Although, you suppose you have a bit of advantage when it comes to noting something and smiling. The only difference is that, rather than French fries and diet coke, you would have to take notes about meetings and business trips.

You breathed slowly, calming your nerves. The woman must have heard your heart thumping against your chest since she hesitated to open the door.

“Just be yourself, Miss. Do not worry too much. You’ll get through this.” She offered you a kind smile. You couldn’t help but think that she was accompanying you towards your own doom. You returned the smile even as you felt your lips wobble. A few inhales and exhales later, you told her you were ready. She slowly opened the door to Mr. Jung’s office and Jesus Christ— you thought you would collapse by the expansive space that greeted you in.

Typical CEO, he was obviously sitting on his swivel chair, the back of it facing you and the secretary. You have guessed he was looking at the spectacular view outside. The interior of his office wasn’t quite different from the secretary’s. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the skyscrapers and buzzing life outside. Light brown wood with grey walls surrounded you, partnered with black leather furniture. Hints of gold in the CEO’s table were also visible and there were minimalistic abstract paintings with the same hue as everything in the room.

Jung Jaehyun. CEO. — was printed on the glass plaque on top of his table.

“Leave us.” He said without turning his chair. The voice was deep and raspy— clean and masculine— the kind of voice from someone who knows he was in authority and that he owns the whole place.

Shivering, you almost begged the woman not to leave you with the predator sitting not two meters away from you. The secretary gave you an encouraging nod before turning on her heels and walking away. At the sound of the door clicking close, the swivel chair whirled.

You expected to see a grey-haired, middle-aged man to greet you. As a large company like this one, the CEO wouldn’t be as young as the man in front of you now. You tried to focus your breathing because fuck— the man is beyond gorgeous. It has been a while since you had encountered a creature as beautiful as him.

Hair, raven black against the white swivel chair that stood out in the whole room like a throne only for his to take, his lips were too red as a freshly plucked cherry against his pale skin— so white you could almost see the blues and the violets of his veins. And those eyes— the perfect dark brown; screams calmness after the storm and the rage of the hurricane fused together.

“Are you quite done staring?”

His voice shot you back to reality. You prayed to the saints that you hadn’t been drooling as you took in his whole features. If that was the case?You were absolutely doomed. Your chances of ever being hired beginning to thin.

“I… my apologies, Sir.” You bowed your head, suddenly confused as to why your body reacted that way. This is not a medieval fantasy where you were inclined to bow before the king, but the man in front of you exudes the energy of the likeliness of a monarch and it felt right to bow in front of him.

He didn’t answer. You could only assume that he was looking through your documents by the sound of the papers shuffling.

“Fine arts degree? To a waitress?” His words ended with a ‘hm?’. He almost sounded disgusted by your resume. It made the veins on your temple ticked but you really couldn’t blame him. The job that you landed on after graduating wasn’t really what you expected after those too many sleepless nights struggling to finish all your plates.

“And with this basic resume…” Your head automatically recovered from the bow and your eyes stared at him. He didn’t call your resume basic, right? But he did. It was crystal clear in your ears, ringing in your mind. And all your hopes of getting the job were gone in an instant. “… why should I hire you?” he finished.

His eyes were emotionless but his voice was taunting. Despite the insult of calling your resume basic, you smiled at him. It was your time to prove yourself and there was no stopping you now.

You cleared your throat, “Because I am a hard-working woman ready to give you her utmost effort—”

“You’re hired.” He simply declared with a wave of his hand.

You blinked, doubtful of the words that you have heard. “Sir?”

“You’re hired. Go and talk to Maggie about everything that you need to know,” he coldly stated, not looking at you but into his computer.

You could really jump from happiness, right in front of him. And you didn’t even care that he interrupted the speech which you practiced all night with the hopes to impress him. What truly matters is you got a new job not twenty-four-hours after you were terminated from that wretched fast-food chain. However, you wouldn’t provoke him to fire you on your first day so you remained calm.

“Thank you, Sir!”

Clasping your hands together was the only vessel you have to let go of a fraction of the happiness that you have felt. You turned on your heels with a smile that could reach your ears. But before you could open the door, he spoke again.

“Try harder when it comes to your clothes, next time. They don’t match mine.”

It was the best pair of formal clothes in your wardrobe. You inhaled sharply and faced him with the same smile, already not so fond of your newly-acclaimed boss.

“Alright, Sir. I understand.”

Then you dashed outside, instantly regretting being his secretary even before your job to serve him had begun.

The secretary, Maggie, introduced you your new workplace. She must’ve seen how happy you were when you departed Mr. Jung’s office that she automatically guided you towards the secretary’s table with a smile.

Her corner was neat, the folders clearly stacked on one end and notebooks at the side. The computer was placed on the right corner alongside the telephone. It was easy to move around since everything is in its place.

Then she guided you towards the pantry. It was decorated with the same brown, grey, black hues with a hint of gold accents. Adjacent to it is the meeting area, composed of the same black leather furniture and a glass table partnered with a minimalistic chandelier. Everything around you looks so expensive that you felt out of place all of a sudden.

“Mr. Jung wants his coffee a little bit warm in the morning. There’s a coffee maker ready, you just have to watch a few coffee making videos and you’re gonna be alright.” You shared a chuckle. It would seem as if Jung Jaehyun is meticulous when it comes to his coffee. So you mentally reminded yourself to watch some coffee making videos tonight.

“Sometimes he likes it cold. Plus, he usually drinks iced-americano. Easy to make,” she said with a wink.

Is working for Jung Jaehyun also requires you to be a barista? Cool.

“For his breakfast, you have to ask him every morning if he’d like to eat. More of the times he does not. And I think one of his personal pet peeves is when someone wastes food. So be careful about that.”

You listed everything she has told you, emphasizing the words ‘ask him’ to remind yourself not to impulsively make him food for there was no guarantee that he was going to eat.

“On the days that he wants to have breakfast, he usually likes to eat scrambled eggs with slices of bacon and don’t forget about the apples. He loves apples,” she exaggerated, “You just have to cut them in equal pieces or else he won’t eat them.”

Bringing a ruler with you won’t do any harm, right? So you listed it together with the reminders that Maggie informed you of. She continued walking you through the works that she does: from the emails that you need to go through to make sure no insignificant message would irate Mr. Jung, to her techniques in taking notes and arranging schedules for the boss.

“And there’s a proper uniform made for you,” she said while eyeing you from head to toe. But not in an insulting manner like what Jung Jaehyun did. Her scrutinizing was more on the calculating side. It would appear as though she was mentally analyzing your body size.

“On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays– you will have to wear this same outfit as I am wearing.” By that, she means the dress and the brown blazer.

“Tuesdays, and Thursdays, you have to wear slacks the same color as this blazer. It’s paired with white silky polo sleeves. Nothing uncomfortable, don’t worry,” she chuckles. But your tongue wanted to ask whether you were going to buy your own set of clothes. The uniform looked so neat and expensive that by the lookds of it, surely you do not have the luxury to buy one. As if reading through your knitted brows, Maggie told you that all uniforms are provided by the company. Thank God.

“On Saturdays, you can wear anything you like. Just be mindful of it. Mr. Jung does not like it when his secretary—”

“Wears cheap clothing? And does not match with his?” You finished the sentence for her. It was the sentiment of the CEO before you exited his office.

Maggie’s lips was formed in a thin line, telling you to go along with it. “It’s not exactly like that. But you have to at least try to catch up to his fashion sense.”

Well— Jesus Christ— the man exhales the air of Balmain and Versace and you do not have the richest to afford a Chanel outfit to pair with him even if you sell your soul to the devil.

“Is that… really necessary?” You asked her, clearly agitated. If that was what the CEO wants, you would gladly go back and work in that cursed fast-food chain and wear the same uniform six days a week than thinking about robbing a famous clothing brands’ store every fucking day to match his highness’ clothes.

“Yes. But don’t worry. The clothes I wear every Saturdays were all thrifted. You just have to really dig every clothes to find a decent one.” She winked at you. You smiled at her nervously. You wouldn’t trust yourself thrifting clothes, simply because you do not have the patience for it. But your little sister, Yuqi, does. So you would have to trust her taste and maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless anymore once you give her the task.

“That’s pretty much all you have to know,” Maggie declares while clasping her hands together. You suddenly felt the need to ask her the reason why she was resigning. But it seemed too personal to inquire. You shrugged and let the question die in your mind.

“How long have you been working here?” You asked instead. She smiled at you, looking around the place like she was reliving some kind of memories.

“I interned in this place when I was still in college. Mr. Jung applauded my performance so I decided to work here when I graduated. It’s been three years, to be exact.”

Jung Jaehyun must’ve been owning this empire at such a young age, based on Maggie’s story. He was the CEO when she was still in college until now. You wonder how old he was when he took this company.

“Mr. Jung’s must’ve been really young when he took over this company,” you voiced. Maggie nodded and told you she was impressed by how young yet clever Jung Jaehyun is to be managing a top company such as Jung’s Fiscals.

After a few minutes of small talk and reminders, Maggie bid you goodbye. Her things were all gathered and she was ready to go even before she walked you through the rules and reminders of the company. However, before she left, you asked the one question that you have been itching to know the answer to the very moment you walked out of Mr. Jung’s office.

“Is he… is he really terrible? Like in the rumors?” You know it was not pleasant to ask such things regarding your boss. But you need at least some warnings before you dive in headfirst to the trouble.

Maggie chuckled and you didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “He doesn’t mistreat his employees. It’s more like, he doesn’t really care enough. I don’t know. He’s excellent in his field but he’s aloof towards everyone. Never really socializing and talking outside of business.” Maggie smiled and you hate to be the one to noticed it, but it seems like she adores Mr. Jung. With the possibility of romantic feelings bubbling beneath her weak facade.

Before you knew it, your tongue is rolling and asking the question you whispered only to yourself. “Do you like him?”

At your question, all the professionalism deteriorated from Maggie’s presence. She looked like a giddy thirteen-year-old lovesick teenager when she answered, “Who wouldn’t like him? The man is like, rich-rich. And that aura? That body? I’d let him spit on me.”

You were slightly disgusted by the latter but you were not going to argue that Jung Jaehyun is indeed the kind of man who could easily wreck you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He has that power in him and you know it the second you laid your eyes on that beautifully cruel face. Those eyes— oh boy— eyes that could make you feel alive but drown and capture you within the depths of them— yet his looks; looks that could almost kill. Men like him know their place, and that is above everyone else— including you.

Your first week went smoothly. There were new emails sent to Jung Jaehyun’s inbox that you need to check. There was also a telephone call, once, from a girl named Chaelin who wishes to visit Jaehyun once his schedule wasn’t too jampacked to bother. You silently asked your boss whether he would allow it, checking his schedules first before asking. He told you to insert Chaelin’s visit on one of his them. That made you wonder if she was one of those rumored models caught leaving Jaehyun’s penthouse and office. But you shook your mind off the thought. Clearly, you have no business wondering about those kinds of things. He is your boss and you are his secretary. You would never meddle in his personal life.

Maggie was right, Jung Jaehyun was indeed aloof. He eats alone and employees never really stay in his office longer than ten minutes. Maximum. And they would always come out with their hand on their chest, heaving a deep sigh. He didn’t welcome small talk and he was all about business. Slowly, you have grounded and reminded yourself exactly where your place was inside the office; and that is inside his territory, but out of his life.

It was easy to master the perfect taste of his coffee. And yes, you would admit, you almost collapsed on your knees when he first tasted your office-made americano. You even stayed for two minutes after he took a sip, hoping for some good comments but he just raised a brow at you. That was your cue to exit. Just like what Maggie reminded you, Jung Jaehyun does not eat breakfast often as a normal person would. But today, he finally ordered one.

Chaelin, who called you, finally arrived fifteen-minutes ago. If Jaehyun looked like a king, Chaelin was his queen — or so you assume. She carried the dominant female aura in her; ash grey hair, red lips, and red bottoms, with a 90’s silk dress hugging her body paired with a Chanel purse. Everything about her screams perfection. You were glad that she smiled softly towards you after you guided her towards Mr. Jung’s office; making you more comfortable in her presence instantly. Maybe that was why you were preparing breakfast for the duo.

The whole office is lonesome. The surrounding eerily silent with literally only the three of you on the whole floor. All you could hear was the crisp sound of the slices of bacon as you fry them, and the thud of the knife against the chopping board as you prepare his apples— fresh and pristine on the plate.

Everything was ready in twenty-five minutes. You placed the food on a clean tray before walking towards Mr. Jung’s office. Balancing all of it with your hip, you pushed the door slightly. The main office stood empty before you, but you heard their murmurs silently echoing from the meeting area that was adjacent to Mr. Jung’s office.

Reluctant to barge in without asking for their permission, your steps slowed. But Mr. Jung ordered for a breakfast today, he must have been hungry. You did not want to make him wait, or his visitor— so you inhaled and exhaled, continuing your walk towards the meeting area.

“So basically, this visit is to tell me to clean up your own mess?”

You heard Mr. Jung asked, contempt clear in his voice. It definitely felt like the conversation is not for anyone to hear. You hesitated in your position.

“This is not my mess. It’s theirs. How many times—” Chaelin was obviously frustrated by the tone of her voice. You heard a playful chuckle from your boss, interrupting the lady’s discourse.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Flying. Fuck.”

“Come on! You’re the only creature here on Earth who could do what needs to be done.” Chaelin sounded tired, worn out from the male’s large ego.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk away, the conversation clearly was between both of them alone, and you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were just torn between serving their food or walking away. You started doing the latter until Mr. Jung’s voice boomed in the whole office that you literally felt the plates in the tray shook.

“Who’s there?!”

You froze on your spot— and your breathing too. It wasn’t just a question. It was a scream of command to reveal yourself. You didn’t even know how he had known someone staying outside the meeting area. Before you could run away from the scene, you heard footsteps coming your way. You turned around to face your boss, you regretted doing so. He was looking at you with his emotionless eyes. And you felt a trickle ran down your spine as he continued walking towards you— grabbing your arms like he wanted to crush your bones. You were too shocked to even feel the pain but it was there, slowly slicing through your skin, certain it was going to leave a bruise.

“What did you hear?” He asked, rage evident in his voice. Chaelin was looking at the both of you, not enjoying the scene but also anticipating for your answer.

You squeezed your eyes shut because you couldn’t stand looking at his eyes as they seemed to burn you to ashes. “N-nothing, Sir.” You trembled.

He pinned you down with that same, deadly stare. His body only a tray away from yours, you could smell his spicy perfume mixing with the smell of portions of bacon and eggs. And his face, too close, so close he almost seemed familiar. He stared at you, not saying anything with his mouth but shooting you death threats with his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. Your knees began to wobble but before you could lose your balance, Chaelin decided to intrude.

“Jaehyun, let go of the girl. She’s telling the truth.”

His hand automatically slid away from your arms. He drew a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his raven-black hair. You let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived as he spoke with his toneless voice again.

“Get the fuck out of this room. Now.” His back facing you while he gripped the edge of the table.

You gathered all your strength, placing the tray on the small table two steps away from you. You were dumbfounded and beyond scared, you didn’t even bother to arrange their plates, you dashed towards the door like a contender in a marathon.

The moment the oak door closed behind you only did you allow yourself to breathe. It came out shaky. But surprisingly, there were no tears rolling down your cheeks. You simply clutched your chest; the pain in your arm numb because of your fear.

It was only your first week. Yet all you wanted to do was resign and get the hell out of the building.

With a glass of liquor in one hand, Jaehyun stared at the vast expanse of the city lights below from his penthouse; thinking that every twinkling light is his to conquer. He was always been fond of high grounds; it reminded him of his place before he was cast out of heaven and became the most infamous fallen in the history of mankind.

The fall. History had withered and repeated itself for millions of years. Yet he still could not forget how it felt like to fall into nothingness, with the gates of heaven closing in before his very eyes.

Did it hurt? The poets tried to ask the unknown; they bled ink trying to fathom the feelings of Lucifer when the Almighty and every angel declared him a traitor. Yet no poem had the exact metaphors to decipher his doom.

Did it hurt? Jaehyun sometimes asks himself the same question. Did it hurt when his wings started to smolder with fire as he plunged into the abyss of nothingness and into the Earth? Did it hurt when every bone in his body twisted and shattered as he landed into hard ground of a place too grave to be called heaven? Did it hurt when he was all bruises and blood and ill-fated to burn into the pits of hell? Just like the poets, Jaehyun has not found the metaphor to describe the feeling; but unlike them, he knew too well how it felt like.

He had lost count of the millennia that had past. He had lost count of his own age if he ever had one. The world made its inevitable change. And it continues to change, leaving him behind. Because he was still him; all wings and sins. Forever damned, forever unforgiven.

He was there when religion had been born, and he watched as the pious made different names to describe him; Prince of hell, the devil, Satan, the Fallen Angel. He watched them cursed him and condemned those who believed in him. And back then he realized that people were quick to describe and hate something they do not understand.

Kings and queens died. Kingdoms rose and fell, and he watched them all with obloquy in his face. Because he couldn’t believe that despite the spitefulness of humans against each other, the Almighty still loved them above all else.

They say he was destined to burn in hell, but his true punishment lay more grievous than being scorched alive. He pulled a locket out of his pocket with his too pale hands. Opening the little old golden thing, it didn’t fail to make his breath run wild every time he looked at the picture inside. The girl is smiling, the one thing she does not practice usually.

How many years has it been? He forgot the faces of his friends and of his enemies. Yet the one thing he could not forget is her ocean eyes and how her lips tasted salvation in his.

One hundred years, my love, he whispered.

One hundred years of her gone, and one hundred years of him keeping her closest to his aching heart despite the death that separates them both. And he would do everything to live; to keep her as his secret, to keep her alive in him.

That was when his thoughts weaved its way to you. A girl who has the ability to ruin everything he holds dear in his damned eternity. You might’ve heard things earlier; he wasn’t sure. The way your eyes looked at him frantically and how your body almost convulsed in his touch, he couldn’t explain why but he never wants to see that same reaction painted on your face again.

Drinking the last contents of his glass and with a touch of warning in his voice, he whispered your name against the miles that are separating you both. With the hopes that it would caress and remind you of the storm coming.

A mere mortal like you is nothing compared to his ancient greatness. Yet the thought of a human knowing his secret nagged in his system even if he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let you out his sight. Not tomorrow, not ever.

masterlist.

#jung jaehyun au #nct au #nct 127 au #nct smut #jung yuno imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun nct au #jaehyun au #nct imagines

[kgraces]

Atlas

@badthingshappenbingo​

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Buried in Rubble

For @ithilgalad75​

Read it on Ao3 here! 

Jason is practically a deadweight against Dick’s side, arm slung around his shoulder. Of course things had gone sideways during a routine case. Of course Joker had decided to show up. Dick had gotten caught up in fighting off the hordes of arms dealers while Jason took on his worst nightmare by himself. Jason is more than capable of keeping himself safe, but the Joker is his greatest weakness, and the worst part is that Joker knows it. 

It hadn’t been a problem until the monster brought out the crowbar.

Jason had clung to his fury, beating past the panic underneath his skin to shoot Joker's kneecaps out and get the hell out of there with Dick in tow, but he hadn't gotten away unscathed. He's definitely got a few cracked ribs, and one shoulder took a heavy hit with the crowbar. His left ankle got completely shattered, too. Dick helps his brother limp along, cursing the damned clown under his breath as they go. 

They're making their way to one of the lesser used entrances to the Cave, but even though it's narrow, which won't do Jason's claustrophobia any favors, it's the closest way home. Dick just needs to get them somewhere safe.

The tunnel’s ceiling is low—walls cramped and dark. Dick isn’t sure this passage has ever been used before now. Jason slumps a little more against him, and Dick casts an uneasy glance at his little brother, taking a moment to stop and run his fingers through the messy curls. Jason leans into the touch, but he doesn’t speak. 

“C’mon Little Wing,” Dick murmurs. “Almost home.”

They manage to walk a few more feet before the ground starts to rumble beneath their feet. Dick’s hold on his brother tightens for a moment before he tumbles over, losing his balance as the earth underneath roils dizzyingly. Earthquakes aren’t uncommon in Gotham, but this one is stronger than the last few minor ones they’ve had. Both boys tumble to the ground, and for a long moment the only sound is the rumbling all around them. 

Then, a loud crack slices through the air, and the ceiling crumples on top of them. The only reaction Dick has time for is a wordless shout before the rubble falls, a cloud of debris obscuring his vision for several painstaking moments. Dick coughs, trying to breathe around the pulverized rock as the cloud of dust begins to dissipate. Somehow, he’s escaped without injury, lying a few feet away from the pile of stones blocking the tunnel. 

“Jay?” He croaks, voice tightly controlled to conceal his worry. He hears a pained sound and levers himself up onto his elbows, scanning the ground for any sign of his brother. 

There.

A tuft of black hair—white streak grey with dust—is barely visible underneath the rubble. Dick’s heart leaps to his throat. His little brother is stuck. Buried under rubble after facing a beatdown from the Joker. His next breath shudders on the exhale.

“Jay, I’m right here,” Dick calls softly. “I’m here, and we’re going to get you out of there, alright?” 

A sniffle, a sob, and Dick feels like his chest is being torn open. He wants to scream, to cry with Jason, but he can’t. He has to be the calm one, here, because if he lets himself get swept up in the fear and worry, he won’t be of any use to his brother. Jason is more important right now. 

He shuffles closer, studying the stone crushing his brother’s prone form. He reaches out and combs a hand through Jason’s hair, waiting patiently until green eyes meet blue. Dick offers him a small smile, relieved to see him at least semi-coherent.

“Dick?” Jason murmurs, voice rough from smoking and the poor air quality. “This...this isn’t real. I’m dreaming you came to save me.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Dick says tremulously. He smoothes the hair back from Jason’s face, smile turning sad. “I wasn’t there the first time, but I’m here for you now.” He starts to prod carefully at the rubble trapping his brother’s torso and legs. “We might need to call B over.” He says with a hum. “I’m going to start to dig you out while he’s on his way, alright?” He activates his emergency beacon, and at Jason’s nod, he starts to move some of the rock as delicately as he can.

Jason’s still crying, tears dripping from his face onto the cave floor beneath him, and Dick starts to hum an old Romani lullaby he remembers his mother singing to him, hoping to calm him down. He’s always found noise more comforting than silence, and he knows Jason can’t begin to believe he’s alone right now. Eventually, Jason speaks up.

“I never wanted to go through this again,” he croaks. “The warehouse explosion hurt, Dick. Everything was hurting, and it burned. There was all this rubble, and warped, super-heated metal landed on me. I felt it before I finally died, and it was awful. Waking up in my coffin and digging my way out was worse.” He takes in a shaky breath. “God, I hate small spaces.” Dick hums again, passing a hand through his little brother’s hair again. Smiling sadly as Jason leans into the touch, almost desperately seeking out the comfort.

“It happened to me once, too,” Dick says. “Getting buried alive, I mean.” Jason makes a soft, inquisitive noise, and Dick lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, it wasn’t fun for me, either.” He shifts another rock, eyeing the largest piece of rubble pinning Jason to the ground. “But guess what, Little Wing? I got out, and you did too. This time won’t be any different.” 

His words and tone are soothing, but Dick’s heart is racing with the fluttery energy of panic. He hates reminding himself of that time, when he’d been attacked, knocked unconscious, and placed in a coffin—left to die. He pushes those memories aside. Jason needs him, and he can’t break down yet. Later, maybe, when they’re both safe, and Dick is alone in his room. He falls back into his usual role—big brother, caretaker, protector. 

“You’re okay, Jay. We’re going to get you out of here as soon as B gets here, and then maybe we can get Alf to make you some hot chocolate. How does that sound?” He keeps working to distract his brother until he hears footsteps running toward them, echoing across the cave walls. “Hear that, Little Wing? The cavalry's here. You’ll be free in no time, alright?” 

He’s freed one of Jason’s hands now, and he reaches out to give it a gentle squeeze. Jason’s fingers twitch and curl around his, and Dick’s strained smile grows a little more genuine. He’ll be okay. Bruce kneels at Dick’s side, clapping a hand to his shoulder in a brief display of support before he moves to examine the rock keeping Jason in place. 

“Keep him calm,” Bruce murmurs, and Dick nods. He’s the eldest, the emotional support for his brothers. It’s a role he’s taken up many times, no matter the toll on his own heart. 

“Jay, can you look at me please?” Dick asks, smiling when they make eye contact. “Hi there, Little Wing. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Ethiopia,” is the choked reply. Dick sighs and runs a thumb under Jason’s eye, wiping away a few stray tears. 

“You’re not there, Jay. You’re in the Cave with me and B. You’re safe, and you won’t be stuck for much longer, okay?” He talks in low, hushed tones, doing his best to soothe the sharp edges of his little brother’s worry. His own chest feels tight, like he’s the one being crushed, but he ignores it in favor of taking care of Jason.

Finally, finally, Bruce manages to get Jason free. He and Dick carry him over to the medbay, where Alfred is already waiting for them. Bruce and Dick get shooed away, and once he’s showered and changed into civvies, Dick can safely sequester himself in his room and let himself break down. He’s held it off for long enough. He makes it to his bedroom without incident, a small mercy.

The door shuts behind him, and Dick slides to the floor, resting his head against his knees. He’s exhausted—emotionally drained from staying strong for his brother. The panic he’s been keeping at bay surges forward, clutching at his lungs until he can’t breathe around it. 

Jason is safe. He’s alive, and he’s going to be okay. The nightmare is over, and Dick can just ride out the adrenaline crash by himself. He’s going to be okay, too. Eventually. 

It could be minutes or hours later when someone knocks on his door. Dick mumbles out his permission to come in, shuffling to the side so he isn’t blocking the entrance. To his surprise, Jason hobbles into the room. There’s a cast on one arm, and he’s moving stiffly, but he’s in one piece, and that’s enough to send relief flooding through Dick’s veins. Logically, he’d known his brother was okay, but seeing it with his own eyes makes it feel far more real.

“Hey Big Wing,” Jason says softly. The room is dark, shadows broken up by the thin moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Jason slumps onto the floor next to him. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Dick asks, chuckling a little. “I should be asking you that.” He smiles at his little brother and tries to put some cheer into his words. “I’m fine, Jay.”

“You’re full of shit, but that’s okay,” Jason replies. Dick lets himself rest his head against Jason’s shoulder. “Thanks for being there,” he says. 

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Dick admits. “I know how it feels to be trapped like that, and I know I don’t have the same traumas you do, but it sucks going through that kind of thing alone—reliving it and all.” 

“You’re too selfless for your own good sometimes,” Jason says. “It’s okay to not always be okay. You know that, right?” 

Dick sighs, sniffling a little. Jason wraps his uninjured arm around Dick’s shoulders, and Dick leans against him, mindful of his injuries.  

“I’ve always had to be the strong one,” he says, choking on the words. “It’s my job to be there for my little siblings.”

“Not if it hurts you in the process,” Jason says evenly. He mirrors Dick’s prior actions and runs his fingers through Dick’s hair. It’s soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves. “We care about you as much as you care about us, Dickie. You don’t have to carry that burden all alone.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Dick insists.

“Tough shit,” Jason retorts. His tone is sharp, but the hand in his hair is unfailingly gentle. “It’s okay, Dick. You don’t have to be perfect all the time.” 

Dick sighs again, tears sliding down the planes of his cheeks. The day’s events and their consequential emotions weigh heavily on his shoulders, as they often do when his family is hurt or in danger. But for right now, everyone is safe. Jason is here, by his side, and his brother isn’t going to let him collapse under the weight of his own heart. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Dick says, after a long moment of quiet. 

“I’m glad I had you there to make sure I was okay,” Jason replies. 

“Always, Little Wing. I promise. I’m not going to fail you again.” 

It’s a heavy burden to bear, but it’s worth it, Dick thinks, if it leaves him with his little brother at his side, safe and steadfast. And really, that’s all he wants: his family safe and happy. Contentment curls in his chest, a warmth to chase away the cold fear he’d been feeling since the tunnel collapsed. He’s safe, and he’s happy, and that’s more than enough for him.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: buried in rubble #my writing #batfam #dc #nightwing #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #batman #bruce wayne

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Running on empty (Bucky x reader)

Running on empty

Bucky x anorexic reader

Word count: 1810

Warnings: lots of eating disorder talk/behaviors, self hatred

Summary: Reader relapses in their eating disorder, and the team has a bad feeling about what’s going on. Once they figure it out, Bucky comes to find you

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

When you were younger you were always an overweight kid. And everyone made sure you knew that they knew. Your peers always made fun of you for being fat. Your family always talked about weight loss techniques, some even going so far as surgeries. And your doctor was the worst… they would always make you feel guilty about it. You would go in for an injury and she would blame your weight, saying you’d be the youngest person they’d ever seen to have organ failure due to their weight. 

You didn’t let it bother you for the longest time. You somehow found a way to be confident in yourself, keep your head up, and not let the comments get to you. Your parents claimed they didn't have to worry about you because you were the most confident person they knew.

But one day it all caught up to you.

You were transitioning into college and you were feeling really stressed. Years of emotional torment were really taking their toll on you, and as much as you put on the same brave face for everyone, you weren’t fooling yourself anymore. You absolutely hate your appearance. And so, you decided to start dieting and exercising.

3 months in and you stopped eating almost entirely

4 months in and people started to notice

9 months in and you were hospitalized with a feeding tube because you were dangerously underweight.

Years later and you were still dancing between the hospital and the real world, unable to stop the addiction you had with starving yourself.

Eventually, you had gotten it under control and went into remission. You went on to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and got to work with the Avengers often. You had advanced knowledge that proved useful to the team on missions so you often trained with them and accompanied them on missions. You were closer with them than you were with your actual family. You felt pretty happy.

Until you didn’t

You had noticed little flare ups here and there. If a mission didn’t go well you would find yourself training in the gym for hours at a time or fasting for a day or two. After one of Tony’s extravagant parties you often found yourself drinking so much that you would vomit or doing it yourself. And just looking at Natasha could cause you to tear up because you felt inadequate. 

It bothered you, it really did. You kept telling yourself that it was fine and it was normal to do these things, but you knew deep down that it wasn’t. But you just kept trying to be your normal self. 

But one day a flip just switched.

What the trigger was, you weren’t quite sure. Maybe it was just some jealousy over Natasha again. Maybe it was a mission gone wrong. Or maybe you had just stared at yourself for a little too long in the mirror getting ready, but you decided you’d had enough. You didn’t eat that day, and by the time you went to bed you knew that this wasn’t a one day type of thing. But you also knew that you would feel better if you lost a few pounds.

Over the next few days, you made excuses to miss meals with the team, claiming you had some work or training to do, or that you had already eaten. And sure, you’d get a few cocked eyebrows but they’d drop it pretty quickly. After a few weeks though, everyone started getting concerned for you.

“Does she, like, not want to be around us anymore?” Sam asked

“I don’t know what’s been going on, but (Y/N) has been acting so distant for the past few weeks. I don’t like it” Steve said, worry etched on his face. 

The team kept sharing their concerns, but Bucky stared off, wheels turning in his head trying to piece things together.

“When was the last time we saw her eat?” he asked quietly, almost to himself. 

Everyone fell silent, hearing him speak but not knowing what he said. “What did you say Buck?” Steve questioned

“Bucky looked around the table at his friends. “She always disappears around meals and I haven't actually seen her eat since before she became so distant. When was the last time anyone saw her eat?”

Everyone looked down, trying to figure it out. Realizing they all had the same answer, they began showing different knee jerk emotions. 

Tony was baffled

Peter, Thor, and Natasha were confused

Sam and Clint were saddened

Steve was concerned

And Bucky was terrified. 

Bucky kept to himself, but he had started to develop feelings for you a few weeks after the two of you had met. Despite his efforts, most of the team knew and would sometimes tease him for it when you weren’t in the room. So to say he was scared right now was a big understatement. 

He decided to go looking for you to talk to you about all of this, hoping that you were in truth, just busy and that he was wrong. Of course your hospitalizations and diagnosis were in your files, but no one had ever thought to look through them. He started in the one place he seemed to always see you - the gym.

And sure enough, you were there, running on the treadmill with sweat pouring down your face. He stared at you through the glass for a few moments, worrying thoughts running rampant though his mind. He entered the gym and you saw him, and sent him a smile since you couldn’t say anything due to being out of breath. 

He smiled back softly as he walked up to you. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?”

You sighed and turned off the treadmill. You were fine with talking, you were just annoyed that he had interrupted your 7 mile run. “Sure, Buck, what’s up?” you asked as you grabbed your towel and water

He looked down and took a breath before looking back and asking “Are you okay?”

You chuckled and said “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You began to sip your water.

He shifted his weight and ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. He took in your frame. It was smaller than he remembered. Really being able to look at you, he saw how pale you were and how your eyes were sunken in. He pulled his eyebrows together in concern, asking “When was the last time you actually ate?”

You nearly choked your water. Surely he couldn’t have caught on.

He didn’t go through your files did he?

You hadn’t even lost that much yet!

You were still so fat.

Surely this couldn’t be happening. Not yet.

What do I tell-

“(Y/N)?”

You realize that you had been staring at him but hadn’t actually said anything, and your water was spilt all over the floor. You had dropped it. “Shit... uhh…” you begin, clearly flustered. “What do you mean Barnes?”

“Okay, you only call me Barnes when you’re nervous and you’re paler than when I came in, which means something is clearly wrong. (Y/N), really, when was the last time you ate?”

“Earlier today at some point? I don’t know…” you say weakly. You never had been able to lie to Bucky to his face.

Bucky sighed stepping closer. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

You look away because if you looked at him any longer you might break, and you couldn’t do that. No, you weren’t sick enough yet, you had to be strong. 

“Look, Bucky, I’m all good, really I am. So if that’s all, I’m just going to get back to my running…” you turned back to the treadmill when you felt metal clasp around your arm. Bucky noticed how much smaller it felt around his hand and swallowed thickly. You turned around, tears of desperation forming in your eyes.

“Doll, don’t take this the wrong way, but you look awful.” When you looked clearly offended, he began to backtrack. “I don’t mean that in a rude way or however you may try to take it at all. What I mean is that you’re pale. Your eyes are sunken in. you look so frail, and I’m sorry it’s just...I’m really worried about you.”

You looked down, and tears spilled over your eyes and onto the floor. “4 days,” you said quietly.

“4 days what?” Bucky questioned. 

“You looked him in the eyes, tears still falling. “4 days since I’ve eaten anything. A week since I’ve kept something down. A month since my last actual meal.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn for his face to go white. After a few seconds he removes his hand from your arm to envelop you in a hug. His body towered over you and you feel so small in his arms that he’s truly afraid he may hurt you if he holds you too tightly. 

“What brought this on?” he asks after a minute or so. 

You shrug weakly. “I don’t know… probably something stupid. It always happens that way.” when you feel Bucky stiffen slightly, you add “Yeah, this all, uh….it's happened before a few times.” you sniffle. “Before i came here, that is. I don’t know why it happened this time. It’s just that everyone is so perfect and then I’m me so… yeah.

Bucky pulls back to look you in the eye and brush back some hair from your face. “I don’t know why you feel inadequate (Y/N). Everyone here loves you so much. And all of us, perfect? I mean do you remember all those things I did? We all have something dark about us, and it’s okay that you do too. But it’s not okay to hurt yourself like this, doll. I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this. But i’m here to help you.”

You snorted. “Why would you want to help me Buck?” you ask, voice cracking.

He took another breath and wiped the tears from your eyes. “Because I care about you (Y/N). A lot of people do. And I’ve been wanting to say this for a while, but (Y/N), I really like you. A lot. And I will do anything I can to help you.

Your gaze drops. “You’re just saying that…”

He lifts your chin to look at you again. He shakes his head. “No, (Y/N), I’m not. I really do like you.”

You look at him searching his face for any indication of a lie but there is none, and all you find is concern and...could that actually be a little bit of love? You move to hug him again. “Thank you, Bucky.” you say. 

“Of course, (Y/N), anytime. He rubs your back. “I’m with you till the end of the line.”

#avengers #buckybarnes #bucky imagine #wintersoldier #comfort #anorexiacomfort #im with you to the end of the line #fanfiction

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- crossed wires

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2339

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: I don’t know why I’m adding salt to the wound, but I couldn’t help myself. This is the beginning of the end everyone! Just a few more updates left for me to write! 

poison & wine masterlist

Loki needs a moment alone. 

He needs peace. He needs silence. 

What he doesn’t need is your handmaidens squealing in front of him in pure glee. Nor did he need you looking up at him in pure shock waiting for an explanation he didn’t have for you.

So he leaves.  

And you’re quick to chase after him. 

Loki can hear your soft steps enter his bedroom and in that split moment he comes up with a solution to it all. 

“Loki?” 

You call out his name again and he’s forced to grab the bag from his closet and walk out to meet you. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Packing,” he answers quickly as he sets your bag on his bed. “You must leave.” 

The words are stiff in his mouth but this was the only escape he could offer to you at the moment. In his selfishness, he had dragged you into an engagement, a future union of marriage with him. And though it was never a part of his plan, Loki could not get the idea out of his mind now. 

Of you, dressed and regaled in Asgardian royal fashion, walking down the aisle to him. To devote yourself to Asgard and most importantly to him and he would have the utmost honor to devote himself to you alone. The future King of Asgard on his knees for you.  

If only he was still selfish enough to think of himself first, he would make that dream into a reality, but you didn’t deserve that. You deserved more which was why you had to make an escape now rather than later. 

Loki attempts to reenter the closet to grab your belongings but you block him from entering. 

“What’s going on with you?” you ask him. “You’re giving up so easily.” 

The way you looked up at him immediately broke the mask he was wearing. Your eyes were laced with concern and worry, but not because of the current situation you were in, but because of him. 

“What am I to do?” Loki can’t help himself but exclaim. “Odin has won. I will happily admit defeat. I will confess to everything. I… I should have never dragged you into this in the first place. Courting is quite simple but a royal engagement, a wedding…” 

He has to stop himself from continuing. 

After a royal marriage, it was standard to attempt to have an heir and the thought of you with his child was certainly a far fetched but beautiful dream. 

Just a dream though. Nothing that could ever be real. 

Loki tries to move past you but you won’t allow him. You shove him back as gently and gracefully as one is able to do. Your hand is warm and strong against his chest. That fire that attracted him from the instance he was met with it was back. Burning bright and steady in your eyes as you faced him now. 

“I’m not leaving,” you state. “I’m not going to run away.” 

“Do you not understand what would occur if we stayed?!” Loki exclaims. 

“I understand well enough!” you exclaim in return. “This is a very unique situation but how is my departure going to help? Running away will reflect poorly on you and me. We just need some time to think of a solution so just… just stop.”

Loki lets out a sigh at your response. He had been so consumed as to what he was feeling that he had overlooked the toll it was taking on you. You were as panicked as he was, perhaps even more so. 

“I… so how is this possible?” you ask him. “How are we suddenly engaged? Why are we just finding out about this now?” 

Loki has to refrain from growling at the thought of Odin. This was another one of his tests. The ultimate test. One made to force him to yield which Loki was more than willing to do for the sake of saving you.

“It’s the Allfather,” Loki mutters, unable to hide his annoyance. “Odin can do whatever he pleases and when you agreed to a courtship with me, you agreed to a potential union in marriage. Odin has merely made the final arrangement which I never expected of him. He’s been fighting this courtship this whole time. I have no idea what could have possibly changed his mind.” 

You turn away from him and he knows the severity of the situation was finally settling on you. You were pulling yourself away from him trying to ease his heartbreak without even knowing it. 

How was he meant to tell you now that he was in love with you? Without making it seem that he had cornered you into an engagement behind your back?

“For whatever reason it may be, he’s certainly caught us off guard,” you whisper. “So we need to find a solution and quickly.”

“You can’t actually be considering going through with the engagement?” Loki asks as you turn back to face him. 

“I mean… what do you suggest we do?” you ask him. “Break it off on the day of our engagement? That won’t go well!” 

“Neither is us getting married, Y/N!” 

Lok instantly regrets raising his voice at you. He can see the pain so clearly on your face at his automatic response. 

“I uh… I didn’t realize how awful it would be for you to lower yourself to marry the half-breed,” you grit out at him. “A prince marrying a half-mortal! Oh, how the royals will surely talk. I’m sure you were hoping for an exotic princess or high-class lady, not some…” 

It pained him that this was what you could possibly think of him. 

You were wrong. Completely wrong. 

“Some what?” Loki interrupts trying to calm your sudden ire. “A strong, stubborn, free-willed demi-god whose beauty I can’t even begin to put into words?” 

Your anger is suddenly gone replaced by a shocked silence as you took in his honest words. Loki was amused and he couldn’t help but smile at you. A smile reserved only for you, not that you knew that. 

“I should be so lucky to have you be my wife,” he whispers as he stands in front of you. 

He can’t help himself now. The mask to protect his own emotions from showing is useless against you. Especially when you look up at him with pure unfiltered trust and a hint of admiration too. Loki wonders if you could potentially love him in return. That after all this time together, you had fallen for him too. 

“You have to promise me, you won’t fall in love with me.” 

Your voice rings so clearly in his mind that he’s shocked that such a memory would return so vividly to remind him of a rule you had made him agree to. It was as if you knew how easily people could fall under your spell and he had been a fool for having fallen for it too. 

And why would you love him? Why would you choose him?

You open your mouth to speak but Loki is quick to prevent your rejection. He clears his throat and looks away. 

“Of course, you deserve someone better than I,” Loki continues. “Someone who can love you in the manner that you deserved to be loved.” 

Someone who isn’t too afraid to admit what he feels. Someone who wouldn’t make up excuses to prevent himself from doing so. 

“You deserve that too, Loki,” you respond. “Someone to love you unconditionally.” 

He can’t help himself. He laughs bitterly at your hopeful outlook in life. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“I...Well I,” Loki turns back to face you with a sad smile on his lips. He clears his throat, unable to meet your eyes and settling to watch your wringing hands. “As a royal prince, I had settled some time ago that I would marry someone for a higher standing in court. The idea of a marriage based on love was never in the cards for me.” 

“You deserve to love and be loved, Loki,” you tell him and before he knows it, you’re holding him in your embrace. 

You feel warm against his chest as you stand on the tip of your toes to reach his shoulders. He melts into your arms unable to resist settling his face into the crook of your neck. He breathes you in and has to restrain himself from pressing a kiss on your soft skin. 

This felt right. 

The way your bodies somehow manage to fit one another like lost puzzle pieces reunited once more. 

By the Norns, he loves you. 

The emotion scares him beyond everything he’s ever suffered through. Just the mere thought of losing you took him back to a dark place he vowed he would never return to. 

But you weren’t his to have. 

You, as he had, vowed to not fall for each other in the duration of your fake courtship. You, unlike him, had a lover waiting for your return. 

Like he said earlier, you deserved better than him. 

“That soldier of yours is one lucky man,” Loki whispers. “To love and be loved by you.” 

You tense under his hold and he wonders if you knew about how he felt about you and If he even stood a chance. 

“I’m sorry.” 

That answers his question, but he overlooks his own heartbreak at the thought of your own happiness. You deserved it. After everything you’ve been through, you more than earned your happy ending. 

It just wasn’t meant to be with him. 

“Bucky Barnes,” he mutters bitterly as he removes himself from your hold. “The Winter Soldier...” 

He turns away from you knowing full well that his heartbreak would be so clear on his face. He didn’t want you to have to deal with his emotions on top of everything else.

“...A lucky man, indeed, to have the chance of showering you with the love and affection you so deserve. If only it could have been me...” 

You don’t seem to have heard him as you mutter your waiting Midgardian lover’s name in fondness. 

“Bucky…” 

Loki closes his eyes and tries to ignore the blooming pain that was spreading across his chest. 

“I won’t judge you if you wish to leave,” Loki states as he forces himself to look at you. He steels his emotions away under his mask again hoping you would let him be this time. That you won’t ask him to reveal what he’s hiding. “I can deal with the engagement aftermath here. You don’t have to stay. You can return to your lover and forget all that’s happened here.” 

You are quick to shake your head and Loki catches it. You don’t hide under a mask like he was. He could see a storm of emotions in your eyes. Loki just didn’t know what they could possibly mean. 

“I want to help you, Loki,” you whisper to him. “All I want to do is help. Don’t make me leave.”

Loki takes in the conflicted features that ran across your face. The wrinkles on your forehead, the firm press of your lips… You were mesmerizing to watch as you thought through a solution. 

“Look, Loki,” you call out his name. “You kept your side of the deal, it’s time for me to keep mine.” 

“Y/N, you can’t actually be considering…” 

“And what if I am?” you interrupt him. “It’s just an engagement, Loki.” 

“Which will eventually lead to a marriage,” he reminds you.

“I know,” you answer. “But what if we just remain engaged? At least, until your coronation.” 

“That can be centuries from now.” 

“Lucky for you, I’ve got a couple of those left.” 

“But Y/N… this is too much for me to ask of you.” 

“You don’t have to ask,” you tell him. “I want to do this for you.” 

“But why?” Loki asks. 

Why would you do this for him? What kind of kindness in your heart would offer this kind of loyalty to him from you?

“Because one of us should get what they want,” you answer. Your hand comes to caress his cheek and he can’t help himself but warmly lean into your palm. “And you deserve to be king, Loki.” 

He sighs into your palm craving to press a kiss there but quickly refrains as he turns away from it. He thinks over what you’ve said. The selfish side of him wanting to agree to it knowing it would keep you at his side for just a bit longer. But he couldn’t let himself be drawn to that, you deserve better from him. 

“There’s a risk,” he comments. “A risk in which Odin will request that we marry before handing over the crown.” 

“A risk we will have to take,” you state and Loki scowls at the simple negligence in your part. You’re quick to notice as you come to your own defense, “It’s better than the alternative, Loki. If we remain engaged, not only will Odin have to deliver on his word, but you won’t need to… I mean you won’t need to court someone for the sake of it. You can… you can take your time and fall in love with someone. If we remain engaged, we can have more time.”

More time. 

More time with you.

Perhaps a chance to have you fall for him for a change. 

He’s silent again. Thinking over if such a chance is even possible. 

You’re watching him again and Loki can feel your hopeful eyes on him once more, begging him to just agree. 

“Fine, alright,” Loki concedes. “Let’s remain engaged for now.”

Loki takes a deep breath and starts to organize his thoughts and emotions. 

Perhaps, centuries from now, you could be his to have and love. He would just have to let you go for now, allow you to chase your happiness with a mortal, before he could have a chance with you himself. 

“We do need more time. More time to resolve this permanently.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals​ @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420@pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15​ @oneprolificqueen​ @nikki-who-likes-coffee​ @fandomrelative​ @nikki419ninja​ @onedollarduck​ @help-i-need-a-social-life​ @ephemeraljade​ @catsladen @amwolowicz​ @captainmarvelnerd​ @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi​ @defunctcherrybomb​

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie​ @moonlightprime​

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki x ofc #loki x oc #prince loki x reader #prince loki x you #prince loki x ofc #prince loki x oc #fake dating au #marvel au #thor au #avengers au #loki series #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #Prince Loki of Asgard #poison & wine bonus #fluff #angst #reader fic #reader-insert #you fic

[openheart12]

Safe and Sound

Summary: Michelle does make it to NHS and Tony meets her there.

Word Count: 2,058

When Sonny Macer handed her the envelope with her test results, she froze, expecting the worse. She took a deep breath, trying to get the courage to open it.

It was just a plain white envelope with the words “test results” written across it with the number 101 in the corner.

She wished Tony was here with her right now, but she had to be strong and with that, she tore open the envelope and read the results. The first time she read them didn’t feel real so she reread them a second, third, fourth, and fifth time. She double checked that these were actual results and saw that her name was printed at the top.

“Michelle Dessler Almeida. Results: Negative for Cordilla Virus Type B.”

The tension and uncertainty left her body and she relaxed for the first time in hours. She picked up her phone to call him, not knowing what to say but that didn’t matter. It was him, it was Tony.

“Almeida,” he answered.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, his stomach churning at the thought of her test results.

She knew that he knew she would have her results by now and was anxiously waiting for them and all she could say was, “I’m okay, I’m not infected.” she said softly.

“Are you sure?” he asked in disbelief, the mortality rate was so high and he wasn’t ready to get his hopes up unless they were absolutely sure.

“Yeah, they did a swab and a blood test and I’m gonna be fine,” she let out a shaky sigh, repeating the words again, “I’m gonna be fine.” It was surreal.

Relief flooded through his body, he felt like he could breathe again. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s fantastic! Look, I want you to get out of there right now and get away from anyone who’s infected-”

Her heart swelled at how protective he was. “Oh, no, no sweetheart, they said that those of us who didn’t come down with the infection that we have an immunity to the virus.” she explained.

“Well, where are they taking you?” he just wanted to be wherever she was, they had been apart for long enough already.

“Downtown,” he heard her sniff before continuing, “to NHS, they want to keep us under watch for eighteen hours… but it’s just a formality.” she said before he could worry.

“Okay, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“No, no, uh, stay where you are. They need you at CTU. I can work from downtown.” she would do anything to see him but they still had to find the remaining virals of the virus.

“Honey, you don’t have to work,” he said softly. “We can handle it from here.”

“I wanna help, Tony,” she answered and he could tell from her voice that she needed a distraction until they could be together.

“Okay,” he relented. His emotions started to consume him, after realizing just how close he was to losing her. “Michelle?” he said, he wasn’t ready to hang up yet.

“Yeah?” she answered softly.

“I can’t believe I almost lost you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

“I almost lost you too, but we’re still here.”

“Yeah.”

“I have to go,” she told him after seeing people from NHS coming down the hall. “I’ll call you from NHS.”

“Hey, I love you,” he told her.

“I love you so much.” She stayed on the call for a few more seconds until hanging up. She was one of the lucky ones, she got to go home after this awful day and she was reminded how unlucky others were when the agent in the room with her had undoubtedly gotten positive test results and her heart broke for him.

Just like her heart had broken for the rest of the people in the hotel: the innocent guests and her colleagues, Gael.

She just wanted to go home and be with her husband. ‘Eighteen hours,’ she thought with a small smile.

Less than an hour later, she and two others were being loaded up into a van that would be taking them downtown. As the van started leaving, she glanced back up the hotel where hundreds were dead or dying. Being there and witnessing it firsthand, it was traumatic and now she regretted telling Tony to stay at work because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold herself together.

After arriving at NHS, she had to undress and put a gown on. Her and the other two survivors were being isolated completely alone. Survivor. That’s what she was now. Both her and Tony were survivors today. She thought about how scared and helpless she felt when she found out he had been shot and could only imagine how he felt after finding out she was inside the hotel when the virus was released.

She pulled out a laptop Sonny had gotten for her and got straight to work, welcoming the distraction it brought. Nine hours later and the virus had been contained, all eleven virals were secured and the day had finally come to an end.

She picked up her ringing phone and put it to her ear, “Dessler.”

“Hey, it’s me,” she heard his voice answer. “I’m gonna be here probably another two hours and after that, I’ll go home and get you some clothes and meet you downtown.”

“You don’t have to do that, sweetheart,” she said, knowing that the day had taken a toll on him too and she was still worried about his neck.

“I want… I need to see you, Michelle.” he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Okay, okay.” she wasn’t going to argue about it because she was the same way when he got shot. She had to see him for herself to believe that he was okay and safe.

He saw Hammond walking up the stairs to his office and rolled his eyes. He just wanted more than a minute to talk to his wife. “I gotta go, baby, Hammond’s here.”

“Have fun with that,” she said, smiling.

“See you soon,” he promised before adding, “I love you.”

“I love you,” she said before hanging up.

She looked up at the clock and there was only nine hours to go. She closed her eyes for a few minutes to try to get some sleep.

About two and a half hours later, Tony pulled into the parking lot of the NHS. The reality that he was going to see his wife, alive and well, was setting in. He grabbed the bag he packed for her from their house and headed inside where he was greeted by Sonny with a wide grin.

“Hey, Tony. It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” he smiled, giving her a quick hug. Sonny had become a close friend of theirs since she started to work for the NHS. “How is she?”

“She’s good, really good. She fell asleep after you guys hung up, I think the exhaustion finally caught up to her.”

“And there’s no chance that the results could be wrong?”

“No, she’s 100% healthy.”

“Can I see her?” he asked.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Follow me.” She led him down a series of hallways and they passed the two other people who were up and pacing around their rooms. Sonny stopped in front of a door and put in a code. “You can go in, this is the most private room we had and I figured you guys would like it.”

“Thank you, Sonny.”

“No problem… I’m really glad she’s okay,” she added softly.

“Me too.” he smiled and she left it at that. He turned his attention to the figure in the room, curled up on the bed and his heart swelled with overwhelming joy. She was beautiful, breath-taking, alive. He watched as her chest rose and fell rhythmically, peacefully. It was enough for tears to well up in his eyes. This was the first time he’d seen her in hours and she never looked more beautiful than she did right now.

The memories of the day came flooding back from when he got shot, to their arguing when he got back from the hospital, when she found out he lied to her for a month, when she went inside the hotel and the mere thought of losing her was too much, to now.

He watched her sleep for a couple more hours until she began to stir. He looked at the clock and only five hours remained. He got it and went to the glass that was separating them, placing his hand against it.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was him. “Hey,” she smiled, getting up and padding over to the glass.

“Hey, sweetheart. How ya doing?”

“Good, I can’t wait to get out of here.” she replied.

“Me neither, I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” she said, placing her hand over his on the glass. “By the way, what did Hammond want?”

He rolled his eyes at the thought of him and a laugh escaped past her lips. “Nothing, he just wanted to congratulate CTU on their work today, especially you, and told me we could have a couple weeks off after you debrief but I told him that could wait for a few days.”

“Thanks,” she gave him a half smile and he knew something was bothering her.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… I didn’t really do anything today except watching people die in agony. And I like the time off, but I like the distraction work brings. I’ve been replaying everything that happened in the hotel since I left it. I see the children who died and their parents had to watch, I see the elderly couple who were the first to take the suicide pills, I see Gael on that stretcher, I see the husbands and wives who died alone and then I think why me? Why am I immune and they’re not?”

“You helped every single one of those people today, Michelle. You gave them an option to end their pain and suffering which wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

“I shot a man, Tony. I killed him. I have a duty to protect the citizens of this country and I killed him.”

“You did what you had to do to protect other lives. You can’t blame yourself for this, Michelle. It’s not going to bring him back… or anyone else.”

“I know. It’s just… it’s just not fair. They couldn’t even say bye to their families and yet, I talked to you the entire time. Sometimes I called just to hear your voice and these people died all alone, surrounded by complete strangers.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t question all the decisions you made or wonder what you could’ve done to prevent this. It was out of your hands and you did your job and I am so, so proud of you.”

“I just wanna go home, Tony. I’m so tired.” she said and he knew she didn’t just mean physically tired.

“Four hours,” he said softly. Only four hours to go until he could have her in his arms. “Why don’t you try to get some more rest?”

“You’re staying, right?” She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“Of course, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. He wasn’t leaving her again.

“Okay, love you,” she said, getting back into the bed and closing her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered back.

He spent the next four hours just watching her, waiting for the time to pass until finally Sonny walked in with a huge grin.

“You ready?” She asked and he eagerly said yes.

She opened the door and let him pass through. He walked straight over to her and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Sweetheart, wake up,” he said gently.

“Tony?” She asked sleepily.

“The eighteen hours is over with.” At this she perked up.

Once she realized that he was right in front of her, nothing separating them anymore, she threw her arms around him. The force made him almost lose his balance.

“God, I love you.”

“I love you so much,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

“Let’s go home,” she repeated, her smile lighting up her face.

#24 the show #tony almeida x michelle dessler #michelle dessler #tony almeida #tony x michelle #24 fanfiction #24 #it’s 7 am and I haven’t been to sleep at all since 11 pm night before last #I’ve written 7 things and over 10000 words since 1:30 am

[pennylanefics]

touch - tom blake

a/n: so i was feeling inspired and put this together 🤗 been going through a patch of writer’s block with fanfic recently, so sorry for the less amount of fics. this is also my last week of school, but i go back to work tomorrow (wednesday) and i’m honestly not ready 🙃 but oh well

•••

tom has been home for a little while now, and was slowly starting to adjust back to regular life. this of course wasn’t easy and there were many nights where he either didn’t sleep, or only slept for an hour here and there. it was taking a toll on both of you.

tom was exhausted both mentally and physically, still trying to come to terms with what he saw during the war, and you felt awful that you couldn’t do much to help him; he usually fought against you anyways, needing space and not wanting to be touched.

physical touch was another thing. tom was sensitive, he wasn’t made for war. so it made him very distant and off when he came back, so much so that you still have yet to simply hold hands with him. you understood, but it hurt. it hurts to sleep in the same bed at night but have to keep your distance so as to not set his anxiety and claustrophobia off.

but one night, things change and take a turn for the worst. you were in bed, reading in the low light shining from your bedside lamp. tom was in the living room, writing a letter to will, a friend he made while in france. it was getting late, so you closed your book, turned the light off, and laid down.

tom came in just minutes later, dragging his feet tiredly as he changed into a pair of pajamas. he slid under the covers and turned on his side, his back facing your back. he shuffles around to get comfortable before falling right asleep. you, on the other hand, begin to shed tears, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and cuddle with him.

to clear your mind, you get out of bed and grab your sweater that was laying on the chair in the corner.

“love, where are you going?” tom asks, sitting up. you shush him and make him lay back down, knowing how tired he is.

“i’m just gonna get a glass of water and some fresh air. i’ll be back in a little while.” he nods and closes his eyes as you make your way outside to the back porch. taking a seat on the swinging bench, you curl up and continue to cry. you let all of your emotions out, not holding back anymore. you’ve stayed strong for too long to act like everything is okay.

a few minutes go by and you hear the door open and footsteps approach you.

“darling, what’s wrong?” tom’s sweet yet raspy voice rings out. you quickly wipe your tears and look up at him, but it’s no use. your cheeks are soaked to the bone with tears and your eyes are puffy and red. tom takes a seat next to you, keeping his hands to himself still.

“it’s nothing tom, i’m fine.”

“please don’t say you’re fine when i just caught you sitting outside in the middle of the night with tears streaming down your face.” you sigh quietly and keep your eyes down, too scared to look back at him.

“hey, you know you can tell me anything, love.”

“i know, tom. it’s just, it’s hard.”

“what is?”

“i...i hate not being able to be with you,” you quietly admit. tom is confused, as he is sitting right next to you...with you.

“i’m right here, darling. what’s wrong, seriously?”

“yeah, you’re here, but really, you’re not!” you didn’t mean to yell and feel bad immediately when you see him jump a little from the corner of your eye. taking a deep breath, you try to tell him in the best way possible.

“i’m sorry. it’s just, i lay in bed every night, wanting to cuddle with you. but you still aren’t adjusted to regular human contact yet, so i refrain from doing so. even the simplest of things like holding your hand, kissing you, hugging you, i can’t do even though i want to so bad.” tom rubs his hands through his hair, not knowing how to respond.

“i should be sorry, i-”

“no, you shouldn’t, tom. i’m not mad at you and i’m not upset with you. it’s the damn war that messed you up, which was pointless.”

“i really am sorry though. i’m trying hard to get back to the way i was, but it doesn’t seem possible.”

“I know, honey. and that’s okay. take all the time you need. i don’t want to rush you and force you to be ready when you’re not.” he nods and reaches for your hand a little, but pulls it away as quick as he can. you try to keep your tears in, but it’s no use. silent tears fall down your cheeks once again as tom stands shakily.

“i’m gonna head back inside, uh, are you gonna be up soon?” he shyly asks. you nod and gaze up at him, noticing now that he was crying as well. your heart breaks even more upon seeing his tear-stained face.

“yeah, i will. get some rest, yeah?” he turns and slowly walks back inside, leaving you alone once more.

“fucking hell,” you mumble, not having planned that at all. now you felt even worse for tom, knowing that your words most likely affected him deeply.

you spend another fifteen minutes or so outside, wanting tom to hopefully be asleep by the time you get upstairs to avoid the awkwardness. you stand and stretch, taking in the beautiful backyard illuminated by the moonlight.

before heading upstairs, you pour a glass of water for yourself. you then make your way to and up the stairs, wishing that tom was asleep. and in fact, as you step into the room, he was passed out on his side of the bed, breathing softly.

you shrug your sweater off and crawl into bed, staying as far on your side as possible. as you finally close your eyes, feeling exhaustion take over you, the bed starts to shake. you immediately think it’s an earthquake, but your water remains still.

turning over, you notice tom thrashing around a bit. he was moaning and groaning, mumbling something as he turns over to face you; he was still fast asleep.

“tom?” you whisper, hoping that would be enough to wake him. but no, nothing happened. he continued to thrash a little, his arms beginning to flail above the covers. you thought of waking him, but you didn’t think that would end well.

this was the main problem. you wanted nothing more than to break him from this nightmare and hold him in your arms, but he’s not used to that sort of attention yet. but, you decide to test the waters anyway.

you reach over and touch his shoulder, which makes him jump, but still remain asleep. finally, you nudge his shoulder a bit harder, and that wakes him up. he sits up in bed, breathing heavily, dripping with sweat at this point.

“tom?” you whisper, staying put in case he needed space, as usual. but, before you can say anything else, tom is falling into your arms, crying loudly.

you are shocked and have no idea how to respond, so you just wrap your arms around him and hold him close. he sobs loudly into your neck, wiping his face against your soft sleep-shirt.

“shhh, it’s okay tom,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair. you were so happy he was allowing you to do so, but you still weren’t sure if he was fully okay with it.

“that was awful,” he mumbles once he’s calm enough. you continue playing with his hair, rubbing his back with your other hand.

“i know. but you’re okay now.”

“i don’t want to go back to sleep yet,” he whispers, cuddling closer to you. this makes you smile, loving how him being in your arms felt again.

“that’s fine. do you want me to read to you?” when tom returned home, he missed you so much that he wanted to hear your voice basically twenty-four-seven. he never wanted you to shut up because he missed you so much, all he wanted to listen to was you. so, you two started a little tradition or routine of you reading to him whenever he needed to calm down.

“yeah. are you still reading that one you showed me when i got home?”

“no, actually. i finished that last week. i have a new one.” you grab your book and turn your bedside light on, sitting up against the headboard. after you were situated, tom cuddled back up against you.

“um, darling, you don’t have to cuddle with me, you know,” you quietly say, not knowing if he was okay with it.

“i do want to. i’m sorry for being so distant and isolated, but i forgot how nice it is, being in your arms and close to you,” he says, looking up at you. a huge smile appears on your lips as he settles against you.

“you don’t have to apologize, tom.”

“i know. but i still feel bad.” he shocks you even more by leaning up and kissing your cheek. he stays there for a moment, his gaze darting down to your lips. you lean in a little to let him know that it’s okay, so he finally closes in the space and presses his lips to yours. it was a soft yet sweet kiss, one that shows you tom still cares for you.

“i love you,” he whispers after pulling away. you lean your forehead against his and close your eyes in content. “thank you for being patient with me.”

“i’d do anything for you, tom. i love you so much. whenever you’re ready to let me in again.” he nods and gives you one more kiss.

“i’m ready now. i forgot how much i missed your lips.” you giggle and go back to playing with his hair. he helps you hold open your book as you do and you begin to read quietly to him, holding him close for the first time in months and finally feeling happy again.

#tom blake #tom blake imagines #tom blake x reader #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman x reader #1917 #imagines #fanfiction #fanfic

[thefanficmonster]

Listener

John (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Male)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE GAME LITTLE HOPE

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: He wishes to be fine, he wants to be ok. He only wants to get over that night, bury it in the past and push forward. But you can’t bury what you can’t see or touch - the scars on your psyche, the trauma, the nightmares. He’s not able to battle it...not on his own at least.

Requested by @dark-pictures-until-dawn Hello dear! Sorry to be posting your request so late. I really hope you have stayed patient enough to still want to read the fic because I’m really looking forward to hearing your feedback, especially since it’s my first time writing a male reader. Please enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I can’t go home. I feel unsafe and lonely there. I feel how shallow is the meaningfulness of my existence and am constantly reminded of how quickly and gruesomely it was almost taken from me back in that ghost town. How I was prepared to do anything to shield my life as well as the lives of those I was responsible of from the horrors Little Hope provided for us. Speaking of my companions at the time, I think they’re doing far better than I am. Angela is, well, Angela - unbothered by the real problem, rather focusing on herself, mostly appearance-wise. Taylor and Daniel are each other’s support and have finally made their relationship public and I’m really happy for them. They deserve nothing but the best and I hope they get through this soon. Andrew left for home for a week or two to be with his family until the concussion and the trauma wore off at least a small bit. I was really worried for him and still am, but I’m at ease knowing he’s surrounded by people who’ll take care of him.

I, however, am left to my own devices. Devices I’m not sure I have. I can hear the weak side of me whispering to me whenever I get home, telling me it’s ok to break the streak at a time like this, even encouraging me to do so. Telling me it’ll be alright, that I’ll be able to pick myself back up, but for now, I can turn to my old friend for comfort. I can allow the liquor to pick me up like it did then.  But then, thank the heavens, my rational side kicks in right on time - one second before it can be too late. It makes me ask myself if alcohol ever did anything for me except dig me a grave for my own dignity. Did it ever pick me up, or was it always the illusion behind which was the defeat and demise it truly gave me?

This rational side has helped me put down the bottle just as I was about to unscrew its cap, and I’ll forever be in its debt. Lord knows I’d be back in the same awful spot I was in before I started by journey of getting clean. I can’t go through the hellish first months of recovery another time. But the escape is a little too hard to resist sometimes.

Tonight it’s especially bad. This afternoon I had a meetup with the principle of the college during which I had to tell him all that happened that night, all the while enduring his ‘you’ve gone mad’ stare mixed with pity. He doesn’t believe any of us, how could he? I wouldn’t believe it either if I were in his shoes. Still, I’m the one who he bothers the most about it, given the others are students and I’m basically an employee of his and I am not allowed to show any sort of disrespect, no matter how much I’d like to put him in his place, if I want to keep my job.  Having to reach to the dark side of my mind for the memories of that night took a toll on me like it hasn’t been able to in the past three days. I sometimes experience rather decent days during which my mind is too occupied to crack under the weight of the trauma. But then come the nights when I avoid sleeping just to unintentionally sink in deep slumber which is interrupted by a nightmare that sends me in a state of absolute terror.

Those are the instances in which I need metal chains to tie my wrists and feet so I don’t go back to old habits. 

Why I still have alcohol in my house is beyond me. It’s like I’m taunting myself to fail what I’ve worked so hard for. Like dangling a piece of meat in front of a lion. The problem is - I’m both the person dangling the meat and the lion. I end up hurting myself by seeking comfort. It’d be a straight up lie if I tell myself I’m strong enough to resist temptation. The only reason why I do so is to avoid those first few months of the new attempted recovery. If I even attempt it, that is.

Because of the deteriorated state my mind is in right now and my weakened defenses, I have made the only move I can think of - sleeping in the school tonight. I’m lucky to have a couch in my office which I share with another professor, so sleeping here will at least be comfortable. The weather has been holding up well, so I won’t even need to bring out the heater. Just as long as no one...

“John? You’re still here?“

…sees me.

The familiar voice scares me half to death, bringing me out of my spiraling thoughts. I’ve become really jumpy and easily terrified which I consider to be reasonable. Other people are rather cautious around me and when approaching me, which I appreciate. 

The person standing in the doorway with one hand on the handle and a startled expression on his face is my colleague Y/N. He’s the professor I’m sharing this office with. Him and I started working at this college at the same time and we quickly bonded over our first-day-on-the-job anxiety. He is pretty swell guy, about my age and height. He is the laid back professor, you don’t see many of his kind, especially since he is an ECON professor. Some of my students are in his class too, and they have nothing but kind words to say about him and his teaching. While the other professors, myself included, sport suits to work, he shows up in a polo shirt and jeans. He hasn’t missed a single day of work and his class flaunts the highest score in the whole college. That should tell you enough about how professional and well-put-together of a person Y/N is. 

“Um, yeah...I just have some things to finish up.“ I wave my hand dismissively, hoping he’d leave it at that. But we’ve been colleagues and friends too long for him to let that slide so easily. He knows me well, people are an open book to him in general. He has told me he wanted to pursue psychology but his parents talked him out of it which explains his ability to tap into a person’s psyche like a literal mind reader. God knows I need a psychologist right now.

Y/N steps inside, closing the door behind him. “I can wait for you. We could get some dinner if you want.“ He suggests casually, shrugging his shoulders a tiny bit.

My eyes go wide, “No!” I answer a little too quickly and too loudly, causing him to frown in confusion, “I mean...don’t wait for me. There’s no need. It’s already late. We could get dinner another time.”

Y/N narrows his eyes slightly as if attempting to read a sign in the distance. I know he’s reading me. I bet he doesn’t even have to try so hard. I’m an open book that has suffered too much damage recently. And I’m not only talking the events back in that God forsaken town.

I try avoiding his gaze but when he says my name I can look nowhere but his eyes, “John, I know you’re still rattled and traumatized. Who wouldn’t be? Just know that you can talk to me anytime, about anything.“ His hand rests on my shoulder, “I’m one of those people who believes you. I believe you 100%” He chuckles, shaking his head, “I’ve researched that stuff probably more than I should’ve when I was a teenager. And it still intrigues me. Though I’m really sorry you had to go through such horrible events. You know you can take a paid leave for a month or two, right? No one will hold it against you. I’d be more than happy to cover for you if you’d like.” 

I find myself smiling at Y/N’s words, “I really appreciate that, Y/N, but I’m afraid that if I don’t come to work I’ll end up losing my mind. Hell...“ I motion around the office, “I don’t even wanna leave. ‘Home’ doesn’t seem so homey at the moment.“ I force a melancholic chuckle, deprived of almost all emotion.

“Hey, now that offends me.“ He frowns, showing off just how much I’ve hurt his feelings, “You’d rather crash here than come over to my place? Come on, John, you should know better than that.“ He pauses for a second, eyeing me suspiciously before a smirk appears on his face, “You’re just afraid I’ll bring out the chess board, aren’t you?“

I can’t help but laugh, “Not at all. We both know I’m the better chess player.“

A mock offended expression makes its way onto Y/N’s face as his eyes widen, “Oh, you’re so on now.” He quickly open the door, one foot already out in the hall.

I hurriedly grab my jacket and briefcase from where I left them this morning, “Not before dinner, though. My treat.” I call after him, my arm automatically reaching out for him, taking gentle hold of his wrist, “And, thank you, Y/N. This means a lot to me. Your support, your company, your friendship...everything.”

Y/N turns around, sending me one of his bright, dazzling smiles, “I was on board with you till you said friendship.” He snorts, moving his hand so it can hold mine and give it a gentle squeeze, “Jokes aside, John, I really want to help you and be there for you. So, please, I’m begging you, don’t push me away. At least try not to, ok?”

The warmth seeping from his eyes comforts me, helps me forget what’s been bothering me, at least momentarily. He always understands, he’s always prepared to help, to comfort, prepared to give advice and receive criticism. He’s human, obviously, but a human who understands what it’s like to be let down, brought down and forced to pick yourself back up, I haven’t found many who understand that in my life. He was my support when I decided to get clean, my biggest stability pillar, why couldn’t he help me now too? Why don’t I allow him to make me at least half the person he is?

“I’ll try, Y/N. I promise.“

And this is a promise I’ll keep, starting by discarding all the alcohol bottles in my house.

#the dark pictures #the dark pictures little hope #the dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures anthology #the dark pictures man of medan #dark pictures little hope #dark pictures anthology #little hope #the dark pictures anthology little hope #man of medan #dark pictures man of medan #until dawn #supermassive games #supermassive #video game #video game fanfic #video games #little hope john #little hope john x reader #little hope andrew #little hope angela #little hope daniel #little hope taylor #alternate universe #au #fix-it #x reader #reader insert #request #requests open

[kaitycole]

Changes in Attitude (Part 2)

Summary: Jackson lets his mind wonder back to his days in Cordonia.

Word Count: 3178

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Eleanor x Jackson, Jackson x Bianca

Warnings: Mention of s*x, Mention of pregnancy, Mention of violence, Mention of arguing, Mention of alcohol

A/N: In this series/universe, Constantine had -one- social season where he chose Liana and then just had a courtship with Eleanor. 

Song Choice: Fall Apart by Post Malone

Part 13.5 of WP. To catch up read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @bobasheebaby @bascmve01  @burnsoslow  @the-everlasting-dream  @ao719 @sirbeepsalot  @janezillow  @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @kimmiedoo5​  @choices97 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @lodberg @edgiestwinter  @marshmallowsandfire @hopefulmoonobject  @iaminlovewithtrr  @cordonianroyalty  

For the next several weeks, the royal family spent more time together than ever before. Constantine seemed to really mean that he wanted to start over and made it a point to be finished with his daily tasks by dinner. On the nights when he was held up late, he also made up for it the next day. There had even been some days where Constantine allowed the boys to leave tutoring early; Leo immediately went to hang out with Bertrand and Damien but Liam often hung out with his dad. Twice a month, the five of them sat down for game night; making sure to rotate which game they played.

As for Eleanor and Constantine, they had their weekly dessert date, which sometimes was just them sitting and talking; sharing small details about themselves that had gotten skipped over during their brief courtship. The royal couple spent a huge majority of their time out in the courtyard with the children; Eleanor expressed her idea of the courtyard being turned into a garden with a hedge maze.

Over those weeks, the palace grew to see the old King Constantine. The one who believed in love. Some guards swore they heard the king whistling through the halls whereas maids gushed about how the queen turned a shade of scarlet every time the king came by. It was a nice change of pace for everyone in the palace and there were even whispers about the possibility of a new prince or princess.

Even with the new atmosphere, there was one guardsman who wasn’t thrilled at the new attitude of the king. Jackson couldn’t believe how quickly things had changed between El and Constantine as well as her and him. He wants to be happy for her, that she’s getting what she deserves, but his jealousy keeps getting in the way. He thought there was a spark between them during their talk in the courtyard, however it didn’t seem like it now.

Jackson is waiting by the courtyard gate when Eleanor finally heads his way to return inside. Constantine likes her idea to turn the old courtyard into a garden, so she often sat outside sketching different plans.

“Oh, Officer Walker.” She jumps back, not expecting to see him.

“Queen Eleanor,” he bows.

She looks around, “Would you escort me to my study, Officer Walker?” Lately it seems that the queen has more work since Constantine spent more time with her; he asks more of her opinion on diplomatic matters.

“Of course, your majesty.”

They walk in silence, both knowing whatever he wanted to talk about didn’t need extra ears. Her heart starts to thump loudly in her chest, was she nervous? Or ashamed? Maybe it was a mixture of both, whatever it was though, she didn’t like it.

“Thank you, Officer Walker.” She smiles at him, but he keeps looking at the ground.

“El…” He trails off, he knows he’s getting emotional.

She chews on her lip, there was never any intention on hurting him. The atmosphere that surrounds them is similar to one of a break up causing both of their hearts to break.

“Officer Walker…” Her voice breaks, this isn’t something she wants to do, “I think it’s best…”

“No!” He raises his voice to cut her off, “You don’t need to do this.”

“Whatever we thought was there, just isn’t…”

“Stop, El. You’re not thinking straight.”

“It’s best we go back to before.”

“It’s not just your call, El!”

She slams her hands down on the desk, “I’m trying to protect you! Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because I’m the one who swore an oath to protect you, not the other way around.”

“When I lied to the KING about a court rumor, that was my oath of protection. For you and your family.” She turns to face him, anger covering her face.

“I never asked you to lie.”

Tears cloud her vision as she slams her fists into his chest. “He would’ve killed you, Jackson,” she begins to sob, “I couldn’t bare losing you that way.”

He pulls her into him, letting her cry into his chest. Could he ever truly protect her? If Constantine found out she lied, there’d be consequences and Jackson was the reason she had to lie. Maybe she was right about them keeping their distance. Going back Queen Eleanor and Officer Walker.

“Is this all why you’ve been keeping up with the king’s charade?” Jackson had assumed that Eleanor had fell Constantine’s new attitude, but now he thought that he might’ve been wrong. That she was just going through with it to keep him safe.

“His charade? You can’t be serious about that.” She knew Constantine’s behavior flipped drastically, but he has been consistent and that’s what matters most to her. And in her defense, they were both married and she saw nothing wrong with trying to make things work with her husband; the same thing that she thought he should be doing with Bianca.

“He’s just playing you. You’re smart enough to know that.”

“Don’t say that!”

He shakes his head, “It’s true. You just won’t let yourself see it.”

“Why are you being like this Jackson?”

“Or are you just too blind by the possibility of having another child that you choose to ignore the signs?”

“I can’t believe you would say that. Not even because it’s towards the queen, but because you are speaking to me.”

“I can’t believe you are acting so stupid!”

Eleanor raises her hand and strikes it across Jackson’s cheek. Never in her life would she have thought Jackson would speak to her like that. It was no one’s business how she acted to or around her husband, especially not a guardsman.

“Is there an issue here?”

Neither of them had heard the door open or the man step into her study. Immediately she tried to think of how much he could’ve heard, hoping all she worked hard to protect didn’t unravel. He walks further into the room, stepping close to Eleanor’s side; almost in a territorial manner.

  “No issue, just a slight misunderstanding.” Eleanor puts on her diplomatic smile, “Right, Officer Walker?”

  “Right, your highness.”

“What kind of misunderstanding did you have?” Constantine is genuinely curious, up until now he didn’t know his wife and lead guardsman were on such talking terms.

“Officer Walker disagreed with how I handled a guardsman situation,” she pauses before elaborating, “I dismissed my nightly guard leaving, myself in here unguarded. He felt it wasn’t an appropriate call to make.”

“And that warranted a slap? He was simply doing his job which is to make sure you’re protected at all times.”

Eleanor and Jackson share a look. How many times would they hear or say the word “protected”.

“I came off more aggressive than I should have, sir.”

“Regardless, I am extremely sorry for my reaction, Officer Walker.”

“It’s quite alright, Queen Eleanor.” Jackson bows in front of both of them before leaving the study.

“Are you feeling well, love?”

She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, “What?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You’ve had a few outbursts lately.”

He wasn’t wrong, while the two biggest outbursts she’s had were at the ball and today, lately she has been snappy and short with people. She wasn’t sure at all where this irritability was coming from.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just stress.”

Constantine’s face drops, immediately feeling he was to blame. Before now, he made sure to handle most of the royal affairs but he wanted to share that with Ellie now. He no longer wanted to hole up in his office when he could spend some of that time with her and finish sooner to spend time with his family. He always had trust towards her, if he hadn’t they wouldn’t be married. But now he allowed matters involving budgets and local disputes to land on her desk as well. Though now, he felt he was causing her more harm than he intended.

“Forgive me,” he drops to a knee, grabbing her hands, “This is all my fault.”

“I’m fine, I swear it.”

He doesn’t stand up, instead she watches him crumble. A few tears fall from his eyes, him truly taking all the blame onto himself. Feelings as though these few added tasks had been taking a huge toll on her.

“I should’ve asked if you could handle those tasks, if you even wanted them.” He sniffs his nose before wiping his cheek, “I put more on your plate than a husband should.”

She tugs on his hands so that he stands up and she wraps her arms around his waist. His head hangs down next to hers; he whispers ‘I’m sorry’ over and over into her ear.

“Connie, it’s not your fault.” She unwraps her arms and lifts his head up so she can meet his eyes, “If I felt I couldn’t do those things, I would’ve told you.”

His face turns red, feeling completely embarrassed. Not only did he fall apart in front of her, but he implied she wasn’t strong. He’s slightly startled when she gently wipes his cheeks before smiling at him. “I don’t deserve your kindness, I was awful to you for years.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance, sweetheart.”

He leans into her and presses his lips to hers. While the couple has been more intimate than usual, the most they’ve done is hold hands, hug and a few kisses on the cheeks. Other than that, the two haven’t shared an actual kiss in some time. For a second, he thought he overstepped, hoping the display wasn’t awkward for her. All those thoughts vanish when Eleanor grabs the lapel of his suit and deepens their kiss. To increase his surprise, she pushes her tongue between his lips. He wraps his arms around her waist as she deepens the kiss even further.

The couple pulls apart, breathlessly. Being intimate hadn’t crossed his mind in weeks, but after that heated kiss, it was the only thing on it. He didn’t want to bring it up though, afraid of pushing things too far.

She looks up at him and bites her lip, knowing exactly what he’s thinking by the look he’s giving her. Walking over, she shoves a stack of paper off her desk.

“Ellie!”

“You said I have too much on my plate.” She winks before letting out a squeal as he picks her up.

“I admire the creativity, but I’d prefer a different venue.” He walks out of her study; carrying her over his shoulder.

She huffs loudly enough for him to hear her.

“Next time, my love.”

She lets out a giggle as she tries to cover her bright red face. She may feel lonely in the palace, but the amount of guards posted around it didn’t actually allow her to be alone.

Constantine clears his throat as they approach their sleeping quarters, “You are both dismissed for the evening.”

“Yes sir.”

“Didn’t I just get told not to dismiss guards?” She playfully crosses her arms and makes an angry face.

“Yes, but you were alone.” He kicks off his dress shoes before wrapping his arms around her waist, “I’d like to make love to my wife without prying ears.”

Blushing, she begins walking backwards, pulling him down with her onto the bed.

*          *

When Jackson leaves the study, he doesn’t immediately go home. While it seems that Eleanor could easily switch off her feelings for him, the same couldn’t be said for him. He loves her and he meant that. Constantine didn’t deserve her, his treatment recently might’ve changed, but Jackson knew he’d go back to his old ways before long.

He constantly thinks back to their secret meet-ups, their exchanged glances, the kiss before the ball, the way she felt when he held her at the ball and he couldn’t allow himself to think it was all in his head. There’s no way it was all one-sided, right?

Shaking his head, he walks to the pier at the edge of his property. He used to come here when he needed to unwind from work, but nowadays he’s here every night. Hoping that maybe El will come back like she did before; the night she told him she shared his feelings. Tossing a rock into the water, it plops as soon as it hits the surface. His mind is completely wrapped up his thoughts about Eleanor that he doesn’t hear the person coming up behind him.

“Jack?”

Startled, he turns around and sees his wife looking at him intently. He doesn’t say anything, to be honest he isn’t sure he could form a sentence if he tried.

“Is everything okay?”

“Why do you ask?”

She looks at him with a puzzled expression, “Well, for one you stay at here all hours of the night and then when you finally come home, you drink until you pass out on the couch. The kids never see you; you’re gone before they wake up and they’re asleep when you come home.”

“Guess I’m just a shitty parent, huh?”

“I didn’t say that, but they miss you, Jackson. Drake really wants to see his father.”

He shakes his head, irritated. He’s irritated with El, himself, Bianca, just everything and everyone. The whole reason they moved here was so he could give his family a good life, yet that same job was taking his family away.

“I’m just stressed, I’m sorry.”

She gives him a small smile before she sits down next to him. “I know I don’t understand everything about your job, but maybe you could take some time off. The kids would love seeing you for a few days.”

He lets out a deep breath when she feels Bianca rest her head on his shoulder. She’s right, he did need to see his children more and maybe a few days away from the palace would do him some good. If Eleanor wants to repair her marriage and ignore her feelings, there was nothing stopping him from doing the same.

“I’ll speak to the king tomorrow. Let’s head inside.”

As they open the cabin door, they see two little brunette children attempt to run and hide. It was close to 1AM, far past both of their bedtimes.

“Drake Thomas and Savannah Jane!”

They both stop and look at each other; immediately they begin to blame the other for getting caught.

“That’s enough, what are you doing out of bed?”

Savannah looks at Drake who tries to hide a nod before she puts on her best puppy dog eyed look, “We miss Daddy.” She even pokes her bottom lip out for added flare. Bianca looks at her daughter, unimpressed since she sees it daily, but it melts Jackson and he becomes putty in their hands. Just as they planned. Bianca shakes her head at her husband who is now squatting down in front of them.

“I miss you, Vannah. And you too, Drake.” He wraps them both into a hug, he smiles when he feels them wrap their arms back around him.

“Alright you two schemers, let’s get back to bed.”

“But Mom!” Drake protests.

“That’s enough of that, son. If you go to bed now, you can skill tutoring tomorrow. Both of you.”

“Jack…”

“Because Dad is staying home all day.”

The kids squeeze him tighter before jumping up and down. After goodnight kisses and hugs, the two trot off down the hall back into their rooms.

*          *

The return to work feels weird for Jackson. Two weeks away makes him feel as if it’s first day on the job. He’s resumed his everyday tasks, though he is surprised to learn Bastien was the one who temporarily replaced him. Timothy caught him up on everything and Jackson was a tad shocked when he learned he wasn’t asked back early even though the royal family took a trip to Fydelia.

“How was the vacation?”

“Surprisingly relaxing. It was nice to spend time with the kids.”

“And Bianca?” Timothy nudges his shoulder causing Jackson to chuckle, shaking his head,

“We really need to get you someone.” Jackson jokes.

“Oh c’mon, you seem to be in a hell of a better mood that the last few months.”

“There was some adult time,” he laughs, “But after all day with the kids, I was exhausted most days. I don’t know how she does it every day.”

Their conversation is interrupted by laughter and squealing. Jackson looks to Timothy who seems completely unfazed much to his surprise.

“You’ll see.” Timothy laughs as they continue walking. Soon they are watching the scene and Jackson isn’t what to think.

Queen Eleanor has a huge smile on her face as she tries to catch her breath from laughing and running. He assumes that she’s playing with Liam but does a double take when he realizes that it’s Constantine. Constantine scoops her up and twirls her around as she bursts into a fit of giggles. With her still in his arms, he backs into a wall and kisses her while she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I thought you said nothing strange happens while I was gone?” Jackson wants to looks away, but he can’t.

“They’ve been like this for weeks.” Timothy lowers his voice, “And based off how many times he’s excused the guards for the two of them to have privacy, I’d say we’re looking at welcoming another heir soon.”

It felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach and he takes a step back. He assumed that over those two weeks without seeing her that he was over her, but clearly the saying was true: you weren’t truly over someone until you could see them and not feel anything.

“I really should go look at ,” she interrupts him with a kiss, “the proposal for the new treaty.”

“Another stuffy treaty. Can’t it wait?” She pouts.

“I wish, my love. I’ll be all yours tonight.” He kisses her on the forehead before untangling himself from her. He waves as he walks back towards his office and she watches him until he’s inside.

Letting out a sigh, she begins walking back towards where Timothy and Jackson have been standing.

“Your Highness.” Timothy bows.

She lets out a gasp, clearly not expecting anyone to be in the grand hall. Her face begins to burn, thinking about how much they could’ve seen.

“We just walked down here. Only stopped to address you, ma’am.” He elbows Jackson, “Right Walker?”

“Oh…uh…uhm…yes.” He stumbles over his words, immediately telling Eleanor they had seen the whole display. Part of him wishes he could’ve lied better to protect her feelings, but the other part of him is glad he couldn’t. He wants her to feel the way he does, the aching feeling in his chest.

She clears her throat, “Well, I should get going.” She starts to leave before stopping, “I hope you enjoyed your time off, Officer Walker. The palace wasn’t the same without you.”

#choices #choices fanfiction #choices au fanfiction #choices fanfic au #the royal romance #choices trr #trr constantine #trr constantine rys #trr eleanor #trr Eleanor rys #trr jackson #trr Jackson walker #trr bianca #trr bianca walker #witness protection au fic #witness protection #trr witness protection au #trr au fic #constantine x eleanor #jackson x bianca #tw: changes to canon #tw: alchohol mention #tw: alcohol #tw: anger #tw: domestic abuse #tw: violence #tw: mention of s*x #tw: mention of pregnancy #long post

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

"No amputations yet, soldier. Although we're fucking so much I'm pretty sure your dick might fall off at some point."

James chuckles. "Oh I don't know, I am made of pretty hardy stock. But we could always put it to the test. How are you doing? I was rather rough on you. I didn't go too hard, did I?"

He is relieved as she drinks the water and eats the cookies.

"James..." she begins quietly, hiding her face underneath his chin. "I'm sorry for my reaction with Mason earlier, and for being so bratty. I'm just..." Anne sniffles and tugs the blanket more protectively around her. "I've been cheated on like that, left for another woman. Physical and emotional cheating. And when I've asked for something like this in the past," her hand gestures to their tangled cuddled position "I've been dubbed too needy... But sometimes you just need to be held, you know? I'm afraid to ask for this and become a burden." She sniffles again and several tears spill down her heated cheeks. "And I can't make the voice in my head shut up. You've been nothing but good to me but it won't stop. I'm sorry for that, for this, too."

James envelopes her in his arms. "Shhh.... shh... no need to apologize. I must admit it looked bad. But I want you... brat or not." He sighs. "We all have baggage, my love. Some of it is a bit heavier than others. I'm no picnic, myself. Failed relationships, secret missions, I have experienced it too."

He wipes away her tears. "But I'm not them. And you are not you from the past. You are my Anne, my Ace of Hearts. And you should never be afraid to ask me for anything. Frankly, I kind enjoy you being 'needy'. It has been a long time since I have had someone who needs me."

He sighs. "I know it is hard, darling. Those voices are so loud and so convincing. But I am here for you, willing to do whatever it takes to drown out those voices." He pulls her up and leans in to kiss her. Her lips are soft against his, and taste of the salt in her tears. He tentativelly slips his tongue into her mouth, and he deepens the kiss, wanting and wishing that he could shut down those voices. -J.C.

James envelopes her in his arms. "Shhh.... shh... no need to apologize. I must admit it looked bad. But I want you... brat or not." He sighs. "We all have baggage, my love. Some of it is a bit heavier than others. I'm no picnic, myself. Failed relationships, secret missions, I have experienced it too."

She feels selfish. Anne hasn’t even asked how his trip to help Mason went, although he appears unharmed and Mason is obviously in a safe place now. But that doesn’t account for the possible mental toll the stressful situation might have caused him. This entire afternoon has been about her when it really should’ve been about him. But his arms feel so secure, so strong wrapped around her, and their warmth calms the worst of her anxiety.

He wipes away her tears. "But I'm not them. And you are not you from the past. You are my Anne, my Ace of Hearts. And you should never be afraid to ask me for anything. Frankly, I kind enjoy you being 'needy'. It has been a long time since I have had someone who needs me."

She leans her cheek into his touch, watching this tender man care for her so tenderly with awe dropping her jaw. The tears dry from her eyes and she takes a slightly deeper breath than she has since she started talking. “I can just ask you to hold me? It won’t bother you? Even if it comes from out of nowhere?”

He sighs. "I know it is hard, darling. Those voices are so loud and so convincing. But I am here for you, willing to do whatever it takes to drown out those voices." He pulls her up and leans in to kiss her. Her lips are soft against his, and taste of the salt in her tears. He tentatively slips his tongue into her mouth, and he deepens the kiss, wanting and wishing that he could shut down those voices.

She leans against his chest and surrenders to his words, to his kiss. Her hand curls around the back of his neck, teasing the hair at the nape of his neck with her fingertips. He tastes so sweet from the cookies and he smells so familiar, so comforting. Everything but him fades away with the tease of his tongue against hers. Just his hands on her body, his chest holding her hip, his mouth silencing any doubt that dares interrupt their moment.

Anne hugs him tight and breaks the kiss to bury her face into his neck. "This is enough. This makes them quiet. I love you so much, James." She moves to kiss his cheek softly. "And I want to make sure you're okay, too. After your trip? Did it go okay?"

#rp #jc anon #james conrad rp #this is so soft #and i needed that #thank you #you are so good

[eddieonthemove]

Early months

Finding that pink line on the pregnancy test was a complete surprise for me. It was unplanned, unexpected and to be honest, couldn’t have been more badly timed. Looking back now, the pregnancy itself didn’t get any easier. When people say that pregnant women have this kind of bloom around them, for me it was more of a gloom. I was sick, tired, couldn’t sleep or eat properly, and on top of that serious problems in the relationship and a very stressful job. Not ideal!

When I was 23 weeks pregnant I started showing a tiny bit, although I still looked like I had a bit more for lunch than normal rather than being pregnant. For the coming weekend my partner Ben and I were planning to go to Snowdonia. That didn’t go as planned. Instead, I woke up on Thursday that week and was bleeding a bit. I googled the symptoms and then walked to work as usual, because Google said it can happen. My colleagues persuaded me to call my midwife and then called me a taxi to go to the hospital. I didn’t take my pregnancy notes, I literally thought I would be back at work in a few hours. Instead, after the examination, a doctor sat me down and told me “don’t panic but you’re in labour”. Well, you can imagine I started panicking. At only 23+5 days pregnant.

The following few hours I went from crying, being petrified, calling my parents, wanting to leave the hospital because the doctors were obviously wrong, to being scared that Ben wouldn’t even show up. If I ever thought before that I wasn’t ready, I definitely wasn’t ready for this. I was transferred onto a delivery suite immediately and got a midwife assigned to me. Within a few hours I was given lots of painkillers and other medication to try to stop the labour, as well as steroids for the little one. Ben arrived with a few friends and I basically cried through it.

Many doctors talked to us after that, explained what little chances there were, what were the possible outcomes, and told me I needed to keep the baby (until that point the sex wasn’t confirmed) inside until at least 24 weeks. The people, nurses, doctors, midwifes, and everybody involved were absolutely amazing. Contractions started slowly but surely and by Saturday morning I was praying for whatever to happen to stop this. At that point, we knew it was going to happen that day and I had never felt less ready. I felt like I needed years to prepare for whatever was coming. I needed my parents, who were thousands of miles away. I wanted as much medication to kill the pain as possible, however I couldn’t get any because it was too risky. Another hard thing was deciding about the unborn baby’s life, just in case. Deciding whether we wanted for the doctors to do everything possible to keep the baby alive or to let nature do what was meant to be. We agreed to give it a try but not to push the little one if he didn’t want to stay with us. I had never felt so lonely in my life. We had been waiting until late evening for my water to break, but once it did the rest happened very quickly.

Eddie was born on Saturday, 12th of May 2018 at 24 weeks of gestation, weighing only 640g (1.4 lbs), breach, but despite all that decided to fight his first big fight for life. Doctors asked us if we wanted to see him, I’m not sure if Ben did, but I was so exhausted that the only thing I wanted was to sleep. Eddie went straight into an incubator and got transferred to the neonatal unit. I got morphine and thought I would rest, but hallucinations and sickness followed. In the early morning hours we were woken up to be transferred to a normal room and after a couple more hours of sleep a nurse came to ask if I wanted to start expressing milk. Honestly? That was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t even want to see my baby. The first journey to the neonatal unit was horrifying, all I wanted was to go home and forget about everything that had happened. Eddie was at the far end, where the sickest babies were, and he was also the smallest one at the unit. When we first saw him, he looked like a little alien without any body fat, with see-through skin, red in colour. I felt awful for not feeling the supposedly instant maternal love.

NICU became the place where I spent most of my time and yet the place I hated most. The dim blue lights, the beeping machines, the hushed tones of doctors and nurses, medical language I didn’t understand despite being fluent in English, everything sterile… On top of the early arrival, Eddie had a large haemorrhage on his brain on both sides and was fully incubated. It was a miracle he survived. That day was the beginning of his long journey. I rushed to get home to sleep in my bed and asked to be discharged the same day. The whole thing felt surreal. For the first few days Eddie was doing amazingly well, but then he got sick very quickly. We were scared to be called in every minute of every day. I felt constantly on edge and unable to relax. I would lie in bed clutching my phone, petrified whenever it rang in case it was bad news. Multiple complications, multiple “you should say your goodbyes now”. Every day was a nightmare with so much stress and fear. Expressing milk every three hours became a very hated chore, especially since Eddie couldn’t receive any milk because of so many complications.

Two days passed and it felt like a week, every day dragged so much. A couple of weeks after Eddie was born we were called at night and spent a day and a half on the unit nonstop as everything was pretty bad; even Ben burst into tears once. Eddie proved the doctors wrong and despite all odds he kept fighting and got better again. I had my first skin to skin cuddle with Eddie with about 6 nurses around just to make sure Eddie was ok. I felt like I couldn’t even move or touch my baby. However, I slowly became familiar with the nurses. Their guidance was great and we could have been involved as much or as little as we wanted, or that is at least what they said. Over the time Ben slowly stopped paying Eddie frequent visits, everything seemed to be much more difficult and the mental health of both of us was slowly hitting bottom. I felt so much pressure; I am the mother, I was the one who always had to come and visit. A few times we planned a trip somewhere and some nurses encouraged me to have a bit of a normal life, but on return to the hospital some nurses couldn’t not mention that I hadn’t visited Eddie for a day. I felt like they judged me and wondered how I could possibly dare not to show up for a few hours.

Most days I felt a strong urge to either curl up in a ball or run away and not have to face life as it was. I felt like jumping out of the window. I don’t think I would have done it, but I felt lost, lonely and distraught. I went through days when I hated even the thought of going to the hospital and days when I couldn’t be anywhere else because it was the only place where I felt safe. I needed Ben but he wasn’t able to be there for me. None of my friends understood (and I don’t blame them) but I felt like I was abandoned. I lived for my job and felt like it was taken from me. Everything was falling apart.  Anybody who tried to be there for me was just not good enough. I felt helpless and hopeless. I kept expressing milk and in the first weeks I did so well that even nurses told me I had to store it at home as they had no space left. That quickly changed, because mental health clearly affects everything. SCIPS, a charity that is based in the hospital offered me private counselling, probably because I cried most of the time, not only when Eddie was not well, but even when he was getting better. I started attending weekly sessions and it took a good 6 months for me to realise that this was not my fault. The idea that every woman has a pregnancy that is 9 months long is just an ideal situation, but what happened to us can happen to anybody.

“Life can throw us many curve balls, with children undoubtedly being one of them. Factor into that medical problems, our very young age as parents, my lack of desire to ever be a parent and an unsure future and you have the mother of all curve balls. To say that I dragged my heels at the thought of being a father would be an understatement. It took me a long time to come to terms with it and to accept that, like it or not, I no longer have the choice; I have a son. The whole journey from finding out that Eli was pregnant to Eddie finally being discharged from hospital has been the most harrowing and emotional yet maturing and life-changing experience that I could ever have imagined going through. Despite initial reluctance towards fatherhood, I was amazed at Eddie’s spirit and will to keep fighting. Despite numerous complications and a few near-death scares, he has found a way to pull through, in no small part thanks to all the staff at the NICU and his own stubborn willpower. Eli was and continues to be incredibly brave and has been so strong for both Eddie and me throughout all of this and is the most wonderful mother that Eddie could ever hope for. Even now with a long way to go before he starts to catch up with the development of children his age, he still manages to astonish us with his progress, and always with a smile on his face. The experience of an un-planned, extremely premature birth has without a doubt taken its toll on our mental health and our relationship, and yet the future still seems brighter than ever with such a lovely, happy boy to light the way. Although Eli and I may have not made it as a couple, I feel that we are doing all that we can to succeed at being the best parents that we can to Eddie and now share a special relationship as a family that has brought us all even closer than before. Seeing his progress after a mere two-hour session at the Bobath Centre was incredible, leading us to believe wholeheartedly that they can aid him in his growth and allow him to live a normal life, regardless of his premature birth. Above all else, I am immeasurably proud and grateful that Eddie is as stubborn as his parents with his never-give-up attitude towards life. He has seized every opportunity so far and I hope that he continues to do so for the rest of his life. He may have been unexpected, but the best gifts are always a surprise.”

Ben, Eddie’s Dad

Eddie was slowly getting better and once he was off any help with breathing, it was just a waiting game until he was ready to go home. I gave up on breastfeeding as the pressure of it and the slow decrease of my milk supply was bringing me down even more. Another hard thing on the unit was seeing all the babies come and go. Nurses told me to talk to other parents many times, and I did, I made a few friends, but most of the time I was jealous of their babies’ progress or the support they had around them… Most of the people I met through NICU always come back and look for a reason to drop in and say hi, but the journey through NICU is the one thing I would very much like to forget about. However, I am and will always be so grateful for all doctors and nurses that helped Eddie to fight for his life.

Eddie got discharged on the 12th of September, exactly 4 months after he was born. Ben and I roomed in for the last night, I don’t think we even exchanged one single word that night, now I know that Ben had never been that scared in his life, and I was too. Unfortunately for me, I was the one who had to be ok and strong. It was just expected of me. We were actually lucky, as Eddie didn’t need any oxygen help at home or a feeding tube, and yet it didn’t feel great.

The first few months at home were definitely not a piece of cake, but I guess it never is for any new parents. I can’t say we didn’t go through anything abnormal (apart from using a lot of syringes and medicine every day), just a lot of crying and the usual things that come with a ‘newborn’ baby. I had to take Eddie back to the hospital three times, twice for a bad episode of bronchiolitis (when once his lung partially collapsed) and once for a hernia operation. Apart from that, our Eddie has grown to be a very happy little boy and I’ve grown to love him more than anything in the world. So did Ben, despite all that’s happened. Our relationship didn’t survive, we failed as a couple, but not as parents, Eddie gave us the strength to realise that even when things aren’t going as planned, we can survive.

Eddie’s now 15 months old. He would have been 1 year old on the 1st of September 2019 if he was born on his due date and weighs an amazing 10 kg! He doesn’t roll over much (even though he can do it), he can’t sit up by himself, he doesn’t crawl and is behind with most of the normal milestones. I stopped taking Eddie to baby groups because I couldn’t cope with other children developing normally and felt like I wanted to give Eddie as much as I could to be able to give him a normal life. After contacting Bliss, an international charity for sick and premature babies and Bobath Centre for children with cerebral palsy, Eddie has been admitted onto the Early Intervention Scheme in Bobath Centre Wales and had his first assessment with a senior physiotherapist in August. We will have more sessions to go to and an intensive block every 4 months. It will be a lot of hard work and exercise and we are praying that Eddie will be able to have a normal life one day.

I wouldn’t wish for anybody to have an extremely premature child but I am happy to be the person I’ve become and that’s pretty much shaped by what I’ve been through over the last two years, even though I am still very far away from being ok with everything that’s happened. I have severe panic attacks and strong anxiety, I’ve become terrified of sharing personal things with people around me and I know this experience will affect me for a long time. Writing this story, however, and going through everything again seems to be the right step now, a step forward. All of my family, from my one thousands of miles away to my one here including Ben and Ben’s family and my close friends, we all love Eddie very much and I wouldn’t change that for anything. He is our little miracle!

Eli, Eddie’s mum 

(originally posted on  15th August 2019) 

”We did not know that our son, Ben, and Eli were expecting a baby until less than a month before Eddie was born, so everything seemed to happen incredibly quickly thereafter.  We were very worried when Eli went into labour so early and whilst delighted at the news that Eddie had come into the world, we were also very anxious about not only our first and only grandson being born so prematurely (and all the health issues and problems arising from that) but also the pain and worry that our son and Eli would be going through, given the circumstances of Eddie’s very early birth.  We tried to give as much support as we could, in whichever way we could, but living a 5 hour return journey away meant it was difficult to visit and we didn’t want to get in the way, so texts were the main means of information exchange.  Ben and Eli kept us as well informed as they could, and news that the hospital had told them to go and say their final goodbyes on several occasions was truly heart-breaking, but Eddie clearly had different ideas and decided he wasn’t ready to leave. We first visited Eddie in the hospital incubator when he was 6 weeks old; he was so tiny and so beautiful, we fell in love with him immediately. We were overwhelmed at the wonderful support and care given by NICU and marvelled at Eddie’s fighting spirit. When Eddie came out of hospital, we visited again and the first time we babysat for him overnight, was really truly scary; there were so many things to remember: when to give his meds, when to feed, what to do if he choked, and so forth, but Eli and Ben’s calm parenting (plus the fact they were just a couple of streets away!) put us at ease and we had no problems at all; we thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience as any grandparents would.  When we babysat again a few months later for 3 whole days all by ourselves, we loved every minute of it and just wished we lived closer so that we could help more readily.We know our son was affected very deeply by Eddie’s birth and struggled at first to cope as a father, and although this whole experience has taken a toll on Ben and Eli’s relationship with each other, we still very much see them all as part of our wider family. We have never ceased to be amazed at how wonderful they both are as parents, and at the strength and fortitude of Eddie – he is such a fighter. We are so happy and proud to be his grandparents, and were delighted that Bobath accepted Eddie onto their Early Intervention Scheme so that he can have extra help with his developmental issues; we’re sure this extra help will make all the difference in the world to him in the future.” Anne and Simon, Proud Grandparents

#CerebralPalsy #PrematureBaby

[dyadsaber]

A New Reylo Shipper Reads the TFA Novelization Part 4: In Which I Refuse to Believe that the Han and Leia I’ve Known Since I was Eight are That Awful at Parenting or Relationships, and I Have Feelings About a Scene With Rey in a Chair

Full disclosure: I am an old fan.  I saw Star Wars for the first time in 1989 because my mom took me to see Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade in theaters, I thought Indy was the Best Thing Ever, and mom decided I was old enough for Star Wars, too. I was 8.  I saw Phantom Menace in theaters the month before I graduated from high school. So I’ve had ideas about what Han and Leia are like as people for the vast majority of my life. 

I have spent a lot of time and mental energy trying to wrap my brain around the way that Han and Leia and Luke act and make choices in the sequel trilogy so that I can enjoy the things that I actually LIKE about the sequels. (And I like a lot, or I wouldn’t have a Reylo blog or be writing about this novelization.) Some of it, I can come up with explanations for.  They are sad explanations, but I can get my brain to buy them instead of screaming THIS PERSON WOULD NOT DO THAT. But the way that this novelization was going to have Han and Leia talk about Ben’s fall to the Dark Side in the scene where they meet up again is NOT ONE OF THEM. 

OH YE GODS THIS MAKES ME SO ANGRY. (I’m going to swear a lot below…) 

When Han and Leia see each other again, we find out how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other… 

Husband and wife stood regarding each other for the first time in years.

YEARS? Really? My first question when I read this was, how many years? Apparently, various supplemental timelines reveal it has supposedly only been seven years since Ben turned to the Dark Side and Luke’s temple was destroyed, which means Ben was, what, twenty three when shit went down? I have issues with this as well. All of the other clues we’re given point to him being younger. This is a glaring example of “no one cared about these characters as much as the fans did and so people weren’t careful with the timeline.” 

Getting back to the issue of Han and Leia not seeing each other for… an unspecified at this point number of years, I get that what happened was traumatic. I get that it probably took a toll on their relationship, but having Han just say “screw it” and fuck off with Chewie, and Leia just… keep on keeping on has always smacked of lazy writing to me. It feels like Abrams didn’t want to have to DEAL with the messy questions about how Han and Leia would be with each other if they had STAYED TOGETHER and dealt, sometimes well, sometimes poorly, with the loss of their son.  So he was just like, “NOPE THEY SPLIT UP ISN’T IT SAD?” And it IS SAD, but the Han who CAME BACK even when there was no reward in it for him, whose last words before being FROZEN IN CARBONITE were “I LOVE YOU,” and the Leia who WALKED INTO JABBA’S PALACE TO GET HIM BACK would not be like this.  I can see them trying to work through their grief together, and then Han just needing to get away for a while, or them agreeing to focus their efforts on finding their son and turn him back in the areas where they each most likely to have an effect, BUT NO. They just… split, and we don’t even get a lot of backstory about exactly how that went so we can understand the emotional arc for these characters. DUMB. I CALL BULLSHIT. 

And speaking of HORSESHIT CHARACTER ASSASSINATIONS…. Here’s some extra stuff Han says that wasn’t on screen. 

“He’s gone, Leia. He was always drawn to the dark side. There was nothing we could’ve done to stop it, no matter how hard we tried.”

This is longer than what he says on screen. His line here in the film is “We lost our son. Forever.” And the longer version pisses me off SO MUCH. How would HAN know he was always drawn to the Dark Side, unless Luke and Leia were TELLING HIM that’s what was happening? (Possible, but this doesn’t read like Han reminding Leia of things she told him already, and I don’t like what that theory says about Luke and Leia making Han afraid of his own kid.) 

I know on-screen Han says something about “even Luke couldn’t help him,” the stuff about THERE IS NOTHING WE COULD HAVE DONE just makes me FURIOUS. Is this supposed to be COMFORTING to Leia? Like, “Well, we did our best and it’s not our fault he turned because that was always gonna happen”?  WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK. Han is not that much of a fatalist.  He tries to tell himself that Ben is gone for good NOW, which is understandable, but “there’s NOTHING WE COULD HAVE DONE IT WAS ALWAYS HOPELESS?” No. Get out of my house if you’re talking that level of shit about Han. 

And then there’s THIS CRAP ABOUT LEIA, AND I’M GONNA BLOW A GASKET LOOKING AT ALL OF THIS AGAIN. 

So, when Leia says “it was Snoke” in the film, Han doesn’t react much, and to me, that scene on screen reads like Leia is reminding Han of something they both already know, but in the novel, she apparently… just… never mentioned Snoke to Han, and she KNEW ABOUT HIM ALL ALONG? 

“Snoke?” She nodded. “He knew our child would be strong with the Force. That he was born with equal potential for good or evil.” “You knew this from the beginning? Why didn’t you tell me?” She sighed. “Many reasons. I was hoping that I was wrong, that it wasn’t true. I hoped I could sway him, turn him away from the dark side, without having to involve you.” A small smile appeared. “You had—you have—wonderful qualities, Han, but patience and understanding were never among them. I was afraid that your reactions would only drive him farther to the dark side. I thought I could shield him from Snoke’s influence and you from what was happening.” Her voice dropped. “It’s clear now that I was wrong. Whether your involvement would have made a difference, we’ll never know.”

So you are telling me that LEIA FUCKING ORGANA had a CHILD with a man (and married him? Are the new canon ones even married? Does it even matter? IT DOES TO ME.) and then hid a REALLY IMPORTANT FACT ABOUT THEIR SON from that man because she thought… Han was too impatient? And she thought he wouldn’t be able to handle it and would make it worse? And so she just… hid it from both of them and tried to deal with it on her own? The more I think about this, the angrier it makes me.  

One of the things I love about Star Wars is how much we get to see characters leaning on each other, both physically and metaphorically, and being part of a team that supports each other.  It’s one of the reasons I hate the way that the sequels separate people and have characters that have spent their whole arcs looking for connection ending up on screen alone at the end. (I know Rey’s not staying on Tattooine, but the fact that the last time we see her, she’s by herself was a choice that makes me mad.) ANYWAY… The idea of Leia deciding she has to struggle with this BY HERSELF (and maybe with Luke? Who even knows?) and ON PURPOSE cutting Han out of the loop entirely is just… stunningly out of character. It’s another one of those writing decisions that makes for good angst and terrible characterization if you know ANYTHING about Leia, in my opinion. 

And I refuse to believe that this next line is anything other than a need for this information to be gotten across to the audience in an extra clear way.  This is Han’s response to all of the above, I think. 

He had trouble believing what he was hearing. “So Snoke was watching our son.”

So this confirms it. THIS is DEFINITELY the first time Leia even MENTIONS Snoke manipulating their kid to Han. The implication here is that after Ben turned, Leia let Han roam around the galaxy for seven years,  BY HIMSELF, NOT KNOWING THAT THEIR KID HAD BEEN FUCKED WITH BY AN EVIL DESSICATED PICKLE? SHE LET HIM KEEP THINKING THAT BEN’S TURN WAS JUST BECAUSE THERE WAS SOMETHING INNATELY WRONG WITH BEN AND NOTHING MORE? DUMB. Canon not accepted.

I need to go watch this scene in TFA, with all of its flaws, to cleanse my brain of this stupidity. 

Oh… one last thing that is not nearly so rage inducing, but gets to one of the things that annoys me about the prequels. (This is a little later when Han is leaving.) 

He put his hands on her shoulders, and thirty years fell away in an instant. “Leia, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a long time.” Fighting to hold back tears, she put a finger to his lips. “Tell me when you get back.”

On the one hand this is kind of sweet, but on the other LET HAN SAY I LOVE YOU, ABRAMS YOU TEASE.  Let Leia say “I know.”  You LOVE cheap callbacks to the original trilogy, and this wouldn’t have even been a cheap callback because it would have made sense for the moment and the characters. I would have bought it. I would have paid a high price for it.  I’m tired of characters not telling each other things (FINN IN THE LAST MOVIE OMG).  I know it’s a way to up the tension, but it just reads as lazy writing here to me, especially now that I know that this is the last time we get to see them speak to each other, and there’s really no REASON she shouldn’t let him say it. 

And now… some feelings about Rey in a chair. 

First, let’s get this out of the way… What Kylo Ren does here is NOT GOOD. Like, “this made me remember all the reasons I was so resistant to shipping them” levels of not good. But then I remembered that I’ve been fangirling over REALLY TERRIBLE PEOPLE since Jason Isaacs stepped on screen in The Patriot in theaters (Go look it up. I’m really old, ok?), and I ship pairings that hurt each other WAY more permanently than Rey and Ben do, and I got over my misgivings.  (Half of one of my OTPs canonically killed the other half in a fit of anger, and she STAYED DEAD. I still ship them because this was a stupid writing decision.)

What I think is so eerily fascinating about this whole scene, both on the page and on screen, is how… weirdly direct and honest Kylo is the whole time. And it’s not just honesty (but I’m going to scream about that a lot), it’s… how careful (for him) he is with her. 

So I knew this was going to be a ride of a scene when the very first time he talks from Rey’s PoV, we get… 

“In Kylo Ren’s voice there was unexpected gentleness.”

Was it also understanding and tall? (That will never stop being funny to me… sorry.) 

And THEN, when she asks about her friends, he’s like (paraphrasing here) “Well I COULD tell you they all died…” 

“But I would prefer to be honest with you from the beginning. You will be relieved to hear that as far as their current status and well-being is concerned—I have no idea.”

This matters a lot to me.  And it solidified my belief that he THOUGHT he was telling her the truth about her parents in TLJ when he said they were “nothing” and that they abandoned her.  He MUST have been acting on an incorrect assumption that he arrogantly assumed was true because, that this is the important bit, he never knowingly lies to her...  I really wish that honesty line had made it into the film. 

And the fact that he thinks RIGHT FROM THE BEGINNING that this is going to be the beginning of an ongoing relationship where he would even CARE about establishing trust… just makes me laugh at the presumption on his part, but also makes me want to be like, “Ok, so you’re kind of right but also hilariously wrong because this is NOT GOING TO GO HOW YOU THINK.” Mostly I just enjoy simmering in the dramatic irony of it all. 

And then he takes his mask off because Rey called him a creature in a mask, and that probably hurt his feelings or something.

 “In itself the narrow face that looked back at her was not remarkable. It was almost sensitive.”

And this is where I became even more convinced that… maybe casting hadn’t happened for all the parts yet?  But ADF had descriptions of types they were looking for? Because if there’s one thing that Adam’s face is pretty much ALL THE TIME, it’s sensitive (and holy crud expressive).  No almost. 

Also, if Adam had been cast, this bit: 

“If not for the intensity of his gaze, Ren could have passed for someone she might have met on the dust streets of Niima Outpost.” 

Would have read more like: “If not for the intensity of his gaze, his ridiculously good looking hair that probably took a whole team of stylist droids to maintain, and the fact that he was tall as a tauntaun, he might have passed for someone on the street.” But I digress. 

So this next line of his is from a really awful moment that should not have made me smile.  But… he’s not even angry, here. He’s just exasperated, and that fight on the Death Star they have in TRoS made this extra amusing. (Not that anyone who’s read this far is going to be on my case about this, but I know how problematic that line is! I know how problematic this whole scene is! Not an uncritical consumer of media here, just having fun reading with a shippy lens!) 

When she maintained her silence, he almost sighed. “I can take whatever I want.”

The old " Well, I guess we're doing this the hard way" sigh. I can SEE IT. 

And then, one of those unique to the novel lines that I somehow didn’t know about before reading the book that just STOPPED ME IN MY TRACKS when I got to it. 

“I would have preferred to avoid this. Despite what you may believe, it gives me no pleasure. I will go as easily as possible—but I will take what I need.”

HOW DID I NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS. I mean on the one hand, have a “not as much of a jerk as you could have been” gold star, but on the other hand, for KYLO “I HAVE A TEMPER AND GET WHAT I WANT REN” to have the intention to tread carefully with her and to CARE enough about what she thinks about him that he SAYS IT? WOW.

Thank you for coming to my talk, “Kylo Ren ALWAYS Cares What Rey Thinks of Him: A Thesis Presentation by Me” 

So he tries to get into her brain again, and we get this: (I can’t tell whose PoV this supposed to be from. It’s Rey all around this point, but it doesn’t make sense that it would be her here, and ADF can’t hold a consistent point of view in this novel to save his life, so… it makes more sense to me that it’s Kylo’s PoV.)

“And hesitated. What was that? Something there. Something unexpected.”

Loneliness would not be unexpected. He wouldn’t be surprised by that. It makes sense that the original intent was this is Kylo sensing her ability to use the Force, but if there was ANY pre-planning of the bond at all, this would have been a moment where he’d be able to sense it.  (I now want to be directed to any and all articles of behind the scenes discussion of the bond and who first decided it was going to be A Thing.  Was that just Rian Johnson?) No matter what happened from a Doylist perspective here, what happened from the Watsonian perspective is that Kylo went fishing in his other half’s mind and stepped right into their one-in-a-million connection in the Force and was like, “WHAT IS THIS???”

So we’re going to skip over the part of Rey crying because that does terrible things to my soul that I don’t have words for. (I may ship Reylo now, but I loved Rey on her own from the second she stepped on screen in theaters.) 

This moment, though… this is so telling. 

“Rey—you’ve seen the map. It’s in there. And I am going to take it. Don’t be afraid.”

Geez this is so him. Frustratingly so. I see why they cut it for the flow of the scene and to make him scarier but WOW. “I’m going to do what I want, but YOU DON’T NEED TO BE AFRAID. Here let me comb through all of your insecurities and worst memories AGAINST YOUR WILL while you’re strapped to a table, ok? WHY ARE YOU SCARED?” 

Honestly, the fact that he even thinks for a second that “don’t be afraid” is going to be AT ALL HELPFUL OR EFFECTIVE in this situation just goes to show how… weirdly out touch with normal people he is. (“Ben Solo Learns How to Be a Person and Not Something Out of Nightmare” is a fic trope I will read and write forever.) 

Then there’s that “SOMETHING” again…

‘Ah, he thought to himself. Something there, of interest. Not the image of the map. That would take another moment. But definitely something worth investigating.”

WHAT IS THIS? It would be easy to say, “He’s just sensing her Force capabilities, or the bond,” again, but we’ve already seen him have that reaction.  This reads like he’s specifically sensing another MEMORY, but we don’t ever get what it WAS before she pushes back. (Probably reading too much into this, but OF COURSE I AM. I’ve written seventeen pages of reaction to this nonsense so far, and I show no signs of stopping.) Anyone want to put forward wildly speculative theories as to what it was? I’ll start: He’s very specifically sensing her memory of Ben falling to the Dark from TRoKR, and it’s drawing his attention because it’s a memory of HIM. 

And now for Round 1 of “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better.”  Rey pushes back and finds herself in Kylo’s mind. 

A look of amazement replaced the fear on Rey’s face as she discovered herself inside his mind. Stunned at the realization, she found herself inexorably drawn to—to… “You,” she heard herself saying clearly, “you’re afraid.”

DRAWN TO WHAT, ADF? To his vulnerabilities? To the place in his mind that correlates to the place in hers that he went poking at? I mean, that makes sense, an it would be instance #1 of Rey replicating what Kylo did because… he’s the example of Force use she’s GOT at this point, and it makes sense that she would be unconsciously doing what he did.  (So really… he accidentally taught her a lot… just saying.) 

And finally,  just kind of love this description of caught-flat-footed Kylo Ren: 

“In the corridor, a stunned Ren found that he was breathing hard. That in itself was unsettling. He did not know what had just transpired in the holding cell and, not knowing, was left uncertain how to proceed.” 

She… raised my breathing rate? I’m???? Having??? A??? Feeling????? Or wait have I been having a feeling this WHOLE TIME AND SHE JUST POKED IT???? WHAT IS GOING ON??? What do I DOOOOOO????? Oh good a stormtrooper needs to talk to me. Time to NOT THINK ABOUT ANY OF WHAT JUST HAPPENED FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE.  

Rey clearly had the one brain cell the dyad shares between them for this scene, and for a long time after. 

That was WAY longer than I meant it to be, but… thanks for reading! I’d love to know what people think.  I feel like I walked into a party late and want to talk about ALL THE THINGS people were screaming at five years ago. 

#reylo #dyadsaber text posts #tfa novelization #the force awakens novelization