#Wren was so clutch

[fruitsclipper]

in other good news we have a successful wren family. i can hear the babies whenever the parent wrens go in to feed them. peepepeep 🐣

#astr.txt #despite the lack of exclamation points im overjoyed :] #tldr (animal death) we had lost an adult wren and a clutch of ~6 eggs last month #so to have and hear!! babies is wonderful

[luveline]

could i request one of the girls having a nightmare in kbd? 🥺

kbd —dove has a nightmare, you and steve help her get back to sleep. mom!reader

The crying is expected. Toddlers are still babies, in a way, and some start to settle, but Dove is a toughie. She’s more sensitive than she shows, and she needs a soft touch each night to get to sleep, sometimes multiple times a night.

The screeching is less expected.

You tumble out of bed, heavy with your own tiredness and unhappy to be woken. You’d shout for Dove if you thought it wouldn’t wake the others. You settle for rushing. Steve says, “Babe?” as you leave, and you’re thinking he’ll probably go back to sleep. 

You nudge open her door. Dove sits sobbing in her toddler bed, the high side to stop her from falling also preventing her from climbing down to see you, her first wrapped tightly in her quilt. “Mommy,” she quivers, holding up her hands, quilt and all. 

“Oh, bubby,” you say hoarsely, “what’s the matter? Come here, come here.” You scoop her up into your chest. “It’s okay, Dovey, it’s okay.” 

You pat her back. She sobs like you’ve imprisoned her, though after a moment she starts to calm, twitchy but her sobbing less aggrieved. Steve makes his way into her bedroom and guides you back to bed. 

“Shh, lovely girl,” you say. “Try not to wake your baby sister.” 

Dove isn’t old enough to just shush like that and you aren’t expecting her too. If Wren were going to wake, she would’ve roused at the violent sobbing. Steve pushes the bedside crib toward the wall and ushers you and Dove into bed, looking eager to lay back down, even more so to turn off the light. 

“I want it on,” Dove sobs suddenly. 

It flicks back on. “Sorry, Dove,” Steve says, pulling the blanket up to her legs. Sometimes when she cries it’s just because she’s woken up and doesn’t want to be alone. You can bring her to bed and that’s the end of that. Not tonight. “What’s wrong?” 

“Spiders.” 

Your tired eyebrows rise. “Spiders?” 

“In my room.”

“There’s no spiders, baby,” you whisper, sliding down into bed with your poor girl clutched to your chest. 

Steve slouches down with you into his gargantuan pile of pillows and cushions, reaching for her chubby elbow. “Sounds like you had a bad dream,” he says softly, tongue tied with parentese.

“Is that what it was?” you ask, stroking tears from her cheeks. “Did you have a bad dream, Dovey? There’s no spiders on mommy’s wall, I promise.” 

She is not convinced. Dove cries for a long, long time against your chest, her bad dream pervasive and lingering in the scared huddle of her face and her arms tangled around your neck. You hum by her ear, tap-tap-tapping a soothing rhythm into the bottom of her spine, gentle reassuring that doesn’t seem to do any good. 

“Want me to try?” Steve whispers. 

You pass her over. You’re sweaty where she’d been laying and your cheek is tacky with her transferred tears, too hot in the dim room. Dove grizzles at being moved, doesn’t settle at all in Steve’s arms, her foot digging into your hip as she cries all over again.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay!” he whisper shouts, enthusiastic and adoring, all things loving despite his tired squint. 

“Lots of spiders,” Dove cries. 

“I won’t let anything get you, bubby, no spiders no nothing. Me and mommy won’t let any of the spiders get you. How about you go in the middle, would that make you feel better? Me and mommy will be on either side of you and we’ll make sure nothing gets you.” 

Dove doesn’t answer. Steve slips her into the small space between you, the three of you squeezed together. Long shadows cast from Steve’s arms as he pulls the blankets over her legs and tummy. He rests his hand on her ribs. “No spiders,” he promises. “Good dreams. Mom’s gonna kiss them into your head.” 

You lean down and kiss her as suggested. “Dreams about me and daddy and you and your sisters,” you say, though it takes a while, each few words said between pecks. “What do you think? What do you want to dream about, Dove?” 

She sniffles. “Ummm…” 

“Anything you want,” you say. 

“Swimming,” she says finally. 

“Yeah? At the beach, or at the pool?” 

“At the beach… daddy makes a dolphin.” 

Steve let the girls ride around on his back the last time you went. It’s a great memory you didn’t know she had, and it’ll make for good dreams. Steve wraps his arm around you both as you kiss it into her limp hair, murmuring, placating, bringing your pinky to her face to draw lines down the bridge of her nose. She falls asleep not long after that.

Steve rubs the lengths of his fingers into the crook of your arm. “Can I get one of those good dreams?” he murmurs. 

You kiss him goodnight. Thankfully, none of you wake again before breakfast time. 

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[azsazz]

Divine Darkness

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: az sending his shadows to check up on you during long missions!!!!!!!!!!!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 775

Notes: Okay, this one just HAD to involve the babies. 💙

_________________________________________

The babe on your hip squeals in your arms as shadows swirl around the both of you in an excited frenzy. You laugh, ducking to narrowly avoid missing one as it skitters out of the way of Baz’s grabby hands. They lift your hair off of your shoulders as they wind around the both of you, and you watch admiringly as your first born, Wren, stumbles into the room in a fit of laughter, shadows at his heels.

“Daddy,” Wren squawks, beelining straight for your legs. He wraps himself around you, tiny wings fluttering at his back, swatting at the tendrils as he hugs you tightly, the shadows tickling over his soft skin. “Please!”

Azriel often liked to send his shadows to check in on you and your sons while he was away. In the three years that you had had Wren and Baz, with a baby girl on the way, he’d requested to stay within the Night Court as much as he could. Rhysand understood, of course he did, and while Azriel’s spies were just as trustworthy as the spymaster himself, this mission could not be had without him. 

He must be up at the safehouse, nestled in the thicket of trees between the Spring Court and the Human Lands. It was the only way he’d send the darkness to check in on the four of you, half of the flock of shadows missing, begrudgingly on scout for their master instead of here, playing with you and the babes.

You suck in a breath as the barrier separating your bond from reaching out to his slides open, flooding you with longing and warmth from what the shadows darting in and out the doors carry on the whispers of night. 

Sending a wave of love right back to your mate, you smile as one of the shadows circles around your middle, a gentle caress to his daughter. The smaller tether slips up your arm and brushes against your cheek, a kiss all its own.

Your heart pangs in your chest. You miss him, and while Cassian is more than helpful watching your two rowdy sons so you can get off of your feet, it isn’t the same as having Azriel around. Your mate loves his children with every morsel of his soul. He’d never had that, a real family, just the one he’d chosen for himself, and he wanted nothing more than for all of his children to grow and love each other. He’d been a nervous wreck when you found out you were pregnant with Wren, didn’t think he’d be a good enough father, but he’d been the most helpful partner throughout your pregnancy and when your oldest was finally born, you could see it from the very first time that Azriel laid eyes on him that he’d be the best father a tiny babe could ask for.

Soon, the shadows seem to say, a stroke across your knuckles, threading through your fingers. Wren screeches, batting the shadows off with a spoon he’d snagged from the countertop where you’d been preparing a sweet treat for your boys before a cozy night in with their mommy. You let them sleep in your and Azriel’s room with you last night and they will again tonight, what Azriel didn’t know won’t kill him. He is a sucker for most things when it comes to the children, but allowing them to sleep in your room too often wasn’t one of them. Azriel likes to have his alone time with you, worshiping your body like he’s done since you’d first met. Hel, it’s exactly the reason you’re pregnant with babe number three right now, the tiny being kicking out as if she senses her father’s presence nearby.

Little Baz squirms in your arms. He’s caught one of the shadows, gripping it tightly between chubby fingers and he giggles while it struggles. You know it’s just your mate playing with the toddler, the shadow isn’t a tangible thing, and it will escape your second born's clutches when Azriel calls them back to him so you can help the babes wind down.

You set Baz down to play with his brother who has gotten bored of fighting nearly imaginary beings with his spoon. He’s abandoned the shadows riling him up in favor of whining to you about how he would like his treat now, cheeks red and sweat lining his forehead from exertion. You puff a breath of laughter at the disheveled sight of him and a prideful feeling thrums down the bond from your mate, squeezing your insides in the best way. 

Tomorrow, he’ll be back in your arms tomorrow.

#azriel fluff #azriel x reader #daddy!az #daddy!azriel #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azsazz wren #azsazz baz #bat babies #azsazz next gen

[corruptedcaps]

Head Fucked

This is an unofficial sequel to Head-Fuck one of @misseviehyde‘s hottest stories

Monica's heart pounded as she stood in front of the door, clutching the address she had found after a lengthy search. She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with doubt and uncertainty. What if Violet remembered her as the same person she had tormented all those years ago? What if she slammed the door in her face?

Summoning her courage, Monica raised her hand and knocked on the door. The seconds ticked by like hours as she waited, her anxiety growing with each passing moment. She didn’t have a lot of time before Wren got home from school and paraded around like the bitchy brat she was now. Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a girl her daughter’s age. She wore glasses and had a friendly face.

“Hi can I help you?” She asked with a pleasant smile.

Taken aback for a moment and concerned she didn’t have the right address, Monica timidly asked, “I’m looking for Violet?”

“Thats me! Well I go by Lettie. Oh but I guess you actually want my mom right? Let me go get her.” The young girl said and disappeared back into the house. Monica took a moment to come to grips with Violet having a daughter. It seemed appropriate that someone as vain and conceited as Violet would name her daughter after herself but this girl seemed so friendly and nice.

Her mind didn’t have long to dwell on it because a moment later she found herself face to face with a middle-aged, but still outrageously beautiful woman with a look of surprise on her face appeared at the door.

"Can I help you?" Violet asked, her voice cautious.

Monica met Violet's gaze, her heart pounding louder. "Violet," she began, her voice slightly shaky. "It's been a long time."

Recognition flickered in Violet's eyes, and her expression shifted from surprise to a mix of curiosity and something else—remorse, perhaps? "Monica?" she said softly, disbelief lacing her words.

Monica nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. "Yes, it's me. I know this might sound crazy, but I need your help."

Violet's gaze held Monica's for a moment before she stepped aside. "Come in," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

An hour later and Violet sat open mouthed at the take she had just heard. The idea that some magical clay could have made a copy of her was unbelievable and even more outlandish that it would transform an innocent girl like Wren into a mega bitch but Violet couldn’t deny the sincerity in Monica’s voice.

"I'm so sorry, Monica. This is all my fault. If I hadn't been such a bully in school, your daughter would still be the sweet and kind girl I'm sure she is."

Monica's eyes softened as she watched Violet, seeing a mixture of regret and concern on her face. "I'm not here to make you feel guilty," Monica said gently. "I'm here to ask for your help."

Violet looked up, her gaze meeting Monica's with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What can I do?"

Monica's eyes brightened with a spark of hope. "There's a way to reverse the transformation, but I need your insight," she said, leaning in closer. "Wren needs to touch a sculpted bust I've carefully glued back together over the course of a few months. It will break the clay's hold on her, but the challenge is that she's constantly surrounded by her loyal betas."

Violet's brows furrowed in thought. "Severing her from her clique won't be easy, they were extremely loyal to me back in high school and I loved having them around to applaud my bad behaviour. But I know a few things that might delay them for awhile," she mused.

Tears welled up in Monica's eyes as relief flooded over her. She couldn't believe that the person who had once caused her so much pain was now offering a helping hand. She hugged Violet tightly. "Thank you, Violet. You have no idea what this means to me."

Violet patted her back gently. "We're in this together now. But we must act quickly. "

Monica rushed home and prepared for her daughter’s arrival and hoped Violet’s plan would work. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Wren stormed into the house in a huff right on queue. Her expression was a mix of anger and annoyance. Monica, acting concerned, approached her. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Wren's frustration spilled out. "Not that it’s any of your fucking business loser but it’s my friends! They just blew me off. I texted them to hang out, and they all had excuses. How dare they do this to me! I might just have to fuck all their boyfriends to remind them who is in charge."

“Wren I have something to show-” Monica began before Wren shot her a look that blazed with a thousand fires.

“What the hell did you call me?” Her daughter said through gritted teeth as she stepped closer to Monica. Monica shuddered with fear but pushed through, knowing that hopefully their nightmare would soon be over.

“I called you Wren because that’s who you are. You’re not Violet, you’re my daughter and you’re going to be my little girl again.” Monica said as she produced the cobbled together bust of Wren’s face much to Wren’s horror.

Before Wren or Monica could make a move, the sound of laughter and chatter reached their ears. Wren's friends had arrived. Monica's heart raced as she exchanged a quick glance with Wren, both knowing that the crucial moment had arrived.

Wren smirked superiorly at Monica, her eyes gleaming with defiance. "Nice try, Monica, but I'm not going anywhere near that bust," she taunted as she sauntered over to the door to open it.

However amongst her friends at the door was a woman who was incredibly familiar, she had a face that Wren looked at every day. Older Violet stood there, a determined expression on her face. "Oh yes, you will," she declared, her voice commanding.

Wren's smug expression faltered as she stared at Violet in disbelief. "Violet? What are you doing here?"

Older Violet's gaze locked onto Wren's friends, who stood awaiting her orders. "Hold her," she commanded, her voice carrying an undeniable authority.

In an instant, Wren's friends moved forward, their expressions filled with evil glee as they grabbed Wren's arms and held her in place, defying her struggles.

Monica watched, her heart pounding, as Violet took a step closer to Wren, her eyes unwavering. "Wren, it's time you learned your place," Violet said firmly as she took the bust from Monica’s hands.

Wren struggled against her friends' grip as Violet advanced, the sculpted bust in her hands. Fear and anger battled within her as she cried out, "You can't do this! I'm Violet! I'm a goddess!"

Violet's gaze remained unyielding, her determination unshaken by Wren's protests. With steady purpose, held the bust close enough for Wren’s friends to pull her hands onto the bust. Once they touched the clay started to seep off of Wren back onto the bust.

The transformation started slowly at first, a subtle change that moved like ripples through Wren's body. Violet's gaze darkened as she watched, her voice unwavering even as Wren's identity was in flux. "No dear, you’re just a copy," she stated coldly, the words carrying a weight of disgust.

Wren's struggles intensified as the clay's hold on her began to weaken. The confidence that had once empowered her as Violet now wavered, replaced by uncertainty and fear. And in that moment of vulnerability, Monica saw a glimmer of her daughter returning, a chance for her to break free from the grip of the past.

As Violet continued to press Wren's hands onto the sculpted bust, the clay worked its magic with an eerie precision. Wren's struggles intensified, her cries reaching a crescendo as the dark energy that had taken hold of her began to unravel.

In a sudden burst, the clay released its grip on Wren's body and flowed fast back onto the bust. Wren crumpled to the floor, dropped by her bitchy former friends. Violet, with a calculated calmness, took the sculpted bust, a victorious glint in her eyes as she carefully secured it away from Wren's reach.

Monica rushed to her daughter's side, embracing her tightly as Wren gasped for breath. "Thank you so much, Violet. How did you convince her friends to betray her?" Monica said, her voice filled with gratitude.

“Your pathetic daughter was just a poser, her friends recognized the true genuine article when they saw it and when I told them my evil plan to take the power from her, they were more than happy to help, isn’t that right girls.” Violet said with new malice dripping from her words. Monica’s eyes grew wide as she realized that Violet hadn’t changed after all, she was still the conniving butch she always had been and Monica now gave her a change to be young again.

"Please, Violet, it probably wont even work on you. We have to make sure this never hurts anyone again. Please I beg you!"

Violet, unfazed by Monica's pleas, simply shook her head. "Oh please I don’t need this thing. Look at me, I’m still a fucking goddess. No this bust is for someone else.”

Confusion clouded Monica's face as she struggled to understand Violet's motives. Before she could inquire further, Violet snapped her fingers, and in an instant, the bitchy army obediently exited the room.

As Wren's ex friends reentered the room, they dragged in another figure, bound and gagged. It took a moment for Monica to recognize her as Violet's daughter, Lettie. The room fell into a tense silence as the girls dropped Lettie to the ground, removing the gag that silenced her struggles.

Lettie looked up at her mother with a mixture of confusion and fear. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the sculpted bust Violet held in her hands. "Mom? What's going on? What are you holding?"

Violet's expression remained stoic, a mask that revealed nothing of her inner thoughts. The bitchy clique exchanged smirking glances, clearly excited about the unfolding situation. Monica finally put two and two together and said with a sense of urgency in her voice, "Violet, please, let Lettie go. She doesn't need to be a part of this."

Violet, however, seemed unyielding. "Oh shut up you fucking loser. It took every ounce of my strength not to bully you back at my house. You’re just as pathetic as you were back in school. Just as weak as your daughter. Just as soft as my daughter," she replied coldly, her gaze shifting between the sculpted bust and her daughter, who awaited an explanation with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

"I had hoped Lettie would grow into a cruel-hearted and powerful bitch like me, but she cares for people," Violet declared coldly. "She stands up to bullies and uses our fantastic wealth to help others. It's made me sick these past 18 years, but that all changes today, thanks to you, Monica, and this wonderful bust you made."

A chill ran down Monica's spine as Violet advanced on Lettie, who was too slow to react. With a swift and determined move, Violet seized Lettie’s hands and forced them onto the sculpted bust. Lettie’s eyes widened in shock and fear as the transformative magic of the clay began to take effect.

The clay flowed deviously from the sculpted bust onto Lettie’s hands, creating an eerie and malevolent connection between the two. Lettie, initially frozen in shock, threw her head back in sudden electric pleasure, a sinister gleam in her eyes hinting at the transformation's evil nature.

As the dark magic took hold, her body underwent a wicked metamorphosis. From an unathletic and nerdy frame emerged a figure with larger, more impressive tits, pouty lips that exuded a touch of cruelty, and sleek hair that tied up into a bitchy ponytail, framing a face now marked by an evil beauty. Perfect skin replaced any imperfection, and her nails elongated with a delicious curve, reflecting a newfound vanity.

Flabby skin gave way to became toned perfection, and her waist tightened to create a silhouette that echoed a cruel kind of confidence.

Amidst the gasps and shock, Lettie’s expression evolved into a devious smirk, embodying the dark persona of her new body. Her eyes, once timid, now sparkled with an evil glint. The room, shrouded in an atmosphere of foreboding, witnessed a metamorphosis that transcended the physical, leaving an unsettling aura in its wake.

Lettie moaned in delight as she gazed upon her new form. Her bitchy long nails running over her tight new body. She resisted the urge to shove her hand in her panties and touch her tingling pussy.

“Oh mommy, what a wonderful gift. Now I’m your perfect bitchy daughter. I can finally live up to my name. I’m a true Violet now.” The new younger Violet giggled.

Monica and Wren looked on, both transfixed by the transformation that had taken place. Monica was horrified by the evil that she had unwittingly unleashed but Wren was now jealous of the power she had lost. Crawling over to the older Violet, she began to beg.

“Please give it back! I want to be Violet again. I’ll be your perfect daughter, aren’t you impressed with how I made my mom into my little bitch?” Wren said clawing at Violet’s leg. Both Violets looked at her with disdain.

“If you really had her under your thumb like I had all those years ago then she wouldn’t have sought out my help in the first place. My daughter is the true heir and once I put in the papers for her transfer to your school she’ll show you what a true bully looks like.” Older Violet said with a knowingly smirk.

“Really mommy? That’s so wicked and evil I love it! I can’t wait to make you my grovelling little simp,” Younger Violet said looking down at Wren in disgust. “You can start by gathering up all the sexy clothes you’ve bought as me so I can get a head start on putting together my slutty wardrobe. If you’re fast maybe I’ll even let you lick my pussy so you can get a taste of what it was like to be perfect.”

Wren quickly got to her feet and headed for her bedroom but Monica caught her arm and pleaded with her to stop.

“Fuck off mom, you ruined everything! I’ll do anything Violet asks me now, she’s a goddess. I should know!” Wren said with pure venom in her voice as she shook off her mother’s grip and headed upstairs.

“Darling why don’t you and your new friends go up to Wren’s bedroom and ‘help’ her out? Me and Monica here are going to reminisce about old times.” Old Violet said with an evil smirk that was exchanged by her daughter as she and her loyal betas ran upstairs giggling.

“W-what are you going to do to me?” Monica said trembling as Violet closed in on her.

“Oh just something my daughter said really put me in the mood. So loser, get licking, I don’t have all day.” Violet grinned as she hiked up her skirt and showed off her bare glistening pussy.

WEEKS LATER

“And if I do this, you’ll finally let me in the clique?” Wren asked a waiting Violet. Wren was dressed as slutty and as hot as her dorky body could manage, trying to mimic her idol. However no one was close to Violet and her beauty.

“Yes idiot, you’ve been so loyal these past few weeks that this is your final test. Go into the principals office and convince him to give us all straight A’s for the rest of the year, by any means necessary.” Violet said with a devious grin. Wren nodded enthusiastically and marched into the principal’s office.

“Are you really going to let that loser into our gang babes?” Laura, Violet’s unwaveringly loyal number two, asked. Violet shot her a cheeky smile.

“Well if she doesn’t get herself expelled I’ll consider promoting her to our official cum cleaner. After all her mother is a natural so she should be no different.” Violet said as they waited for Wren.

Meanwhile miles away back at Violet’s house, her mother was receiving a rejuvenating mud facical courtesy of the melted down remains of Lettie’s bust. The mud melted pleasurably into her skin erasing the minor wrinkles she had and tightening the skin all across her body.

Violet moaned in pleasure as she felt twenty years younger. She would take Lettie’s place in the private school she had transferred her out of, losing as her sister and she would cause havoc for a new generation all over again. Her plan made her positively gush and she knew just who to service her.

Snapping her fingers, Monica appeared quickly at the door wearing the slutty maid outfit Violet forced her to wear.

“Mistress you are looking divine.” Monica said like a sycophant. Weeks of constant service had beaten her down into a submissive slave for Violet and her daughter.

“Silence worm. I want that tongue to be focused on doing one thing only now. Now come to mommy.” Violet said with a cold purr as Monica crawled over to her waiting pussy.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #power transfer #evie hyde #unofficial sequel

[thatlovinfeelin]

Flightless Bird | twenty | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Synopsis: Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, just pregnancy in general, talks of infertility. past mental and emotional abuse. anxiety. talks of women's reproductive systems (idk)

Jose’s heart was in your throat as she watched Bradley get dressed the following morning. She wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. She wanted more time, she needed more. But he had to go, she knew that. She just wished he could stay longer. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he sighed, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I can’t help it,” She mumbled. 

He stood there for a second before climbing onto the bed. He reached for her, kissing her gently. He didn’t want to go either, but he had a job to do, for a little while longer at least. Soon enough he would be back here, if all went according to plan. He wanted to be back here with her, and her little girl. He wanted to live across the street again and be more than just some random man at an air show. 

“I don’t want to go either,” he admitted, “But I have to, baby.”

“I know,” She pouted, “Just wish I could keep you here for a little while longer.”

He smiled, “I wish I could keep you right here, like this.”

“Only because I’m naked,” You laughed, pulling the blanket up higher, “I need to get dressed too. Jake will be back with Wren before too long.”

“I can’t wait to meet her someday,” He said almost dreamily. 

She smiled and stroked Bradley’s cheek, the one with all of the scars. There was once a time when she wanted to kiss every one of those scars and make him feel as loved as he was. She did that last night as they tangled in the sheets. 

“You’re going to love her,” Jose told him, “She’s amazing.”

“Just like her mom, I’m sure.”

A blush rose on Jose’s cheeks. She wasn’t used to being complimented in the way that Bradley always seemed to make her believe it. It’d been years since she’d heard him, and now she wasn’t sure how she was going to let him walk out of her door again. The last time he swore he’d never be back, what if this turned into a one time deal and she never saw him again?

How would she be able to breathe without him again? She didn’t like being dependent on people, but she felt like she needed Bradley in her life to feel complete. Like he was some sort of missing piece that she didn’t know she needed until he was gone again. 

“It feels complete when you’re here,” She mumbled, chasing his lips again. 

“I know, baby, I know,” He seemed to agree, “It just feels right being here with you. I don’t know how I’m going to leave you again.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to let you go,” She replied, “If I didn’t have Wren…”

“But you do, and I’m so glad that you do, sweetheart,” He shushed her gently, “She’s your world. And maybe one day she can be a very big part of mine.”

“I’d like nothing more.” 

He grinned, the smile stretching across his whole face. They were locked into an embrace, clutching onto one another as if the other would disappear. Maybe he would…just disappear into the skies. Or maybe he would come back to them and they could be a little family again. Maybe she could have the life she wanted with Bradley and everything would turn out okay. 

His phone rang from her dresser, causing him to groan. He let go and stretched over, reaching for the device. His shoulders sank when he read the message on it. 

“I have to go, like right now,” He sighed, “I wish we had more time.”

“We will,” Jose swore, “We’ll have all the time in the world.”

He nodded and bent down to kiss her again. When they pulled apart, she reached for her robe again, tying it around her waist before following him through the house. It felt strange to be doing this after all this time. Yet it also felt right somehow. If they were leaving things like this, this would be the right way to do it. 

“I’ll come back to you,” He promised, dropping his forehead to rest against hers, “I’ll come back to both of you.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” She tried to joke, “Fly safe.”

“I always do.”

“I love you, Bradley.”

He kissed her softly, his mustache tickling her lips, “I love you so much Jose.”

“Come back to me,” She begged him, “Come back home.”

“I will, my love. I promise.”

With that he was climbing into his rental car and driving away, taking Jose’s heart with him. She had her hand over her heart, trying to feel the steady beating of it, hoping it would help ground her. But it did little to help. 

But she knew that Wren would be home soon, and that would give her purpose. Wren was her whole life. Her everything. Her life wouldn’t have nearly as much purpose without having Florence. She couldn’t imagine life without her. 

So when she heard Jake pulling into the driveway she couldn’t help but smile and run towards the front door to hug her daughter. Wren came bursting through the door, yelling for her mother. Jose dropped to her knees and held her arms wide open. 

“Were you good for Uncle Jake and Auntie Nat?”

“Yes ma’am!” Wren cheered, “We had twea pwarty”

“A tea party? That sounds like fun.”

“It was honestly,” Jake said from behind you, “Get kiddo, why don’t you take your bag in your room. Your mama and I need to talk for a minute.”

“Otay!”

Jose stood and turned around, crossing her arms out of habit, “What’s up?”

“Phoe told me something last night and I need you to not be mad,” He said carefully, “I wouldn’t be able to handle it if you were mad at us.”

“Jake, what’s up? What’s wrong?”

He looked nervous, so nervous. He picked at his hands and wouldn’t make eye contact with her, he was even chewing on his lips. Jose hadn’t seen him like this in years. It was making her worried, something had to be wrong. Maybe something happened with Wren overnight? 

“You’re scaring me, Jake,” Jose took a step forward and put a hand on his arm. 

“She’s pregnant,” Jake blurted out, “Fuck, she’s pregnant.”

“I know.”

“Are you mad? God please don’t be mad. I can’t handle this if you’re mad at me,” He rambled on, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do. I don’t know how to be a dad, I’m barely a good uncle. How do I be a father?”

“Jake,” Jose said softly, “Calm down. It’s okay.”

“You aren’t mad?” He questioned.

Jose’s heart nearly broke. He looked so wounded, so scared. So Jose reached out and hugged him tightly. As tightly as she could, he slowly started to relax in her arms. She thought back to how she was when she first moved out here, and how Jake comforted her. 

“I’m not mad, Jakey,” She whispered, “How could I be mad about this?”

“Because you always wanted more kids,” He said, as if that was the only reason that mattered, “We weren’t even trying.”

“Jake, you’re going to be a dad, how could I be mad about that? You’re going to be an amazing father.”

“I don’t know how to be a good dad,” he stated, “Mine is shit.”

“Yeah, he is, which is why you’re going to be amazing,” She replied, “And you’re an amazing Uncle, which is an even better reason as to why you’re going to be amazing.” 

“How do you know?”

“Because you told me the same thing when I was pregnant with Wren,” She replied honestly, “You told me I would be so much better than my mother, because I’d never want my kid to go through the same things that I did.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admitted. 

“No parent ever does,” She shrugged in response, “We just have to hope we don’t screw our kids up too badly and do our best.”

“Seems like there should be more to it,” He groaned. 

“I’ll loan you both some of the parenting books I read while I was pregnant, but for the most part it’s trial and error.”

“I don’t do well with that.”

Jose could hear Wren playing in the other room, talking to her teddy bear that Jake bought her before she was even born. Yes, she always wanted more children, but she was beyond happy to have Wren. She wouldn’t trade her for a minivan full of kids. 

“Are you happy about this?” Jose asked Jake. 

He stopped for a moment before a smile broke out across his face, “I’m over the fucking moon. I can’t wait to see Nat as a mom, I know she’s going to be amazing.”

“No doubt the primal part of you can’t wait to see her really pregnant,” Jose joked. 

“That too. Fuck, we did that, you know? Like we’ve created this whole new life.”

“I know, it’s crazy to think about,” Jose agreed, “I remember how stunned I was when Wren started moving and I could feel her. It became real all of the sudden.” 

“I’m gonna have a kid,” He said, a stunned smile on his face. 

“Yeah, Jake, you are.”

Wren picked that time to come running back out with a piece of paper in her hands. She ran to Jake and tugged on the leg of his jeans. He smiled down at her before bending down so he was on eye level. That was one thing he always did, he got on eye level with her so he was never talking down to her. It always made Jose smile, no matter what was going on.

“What’s up, munchkin?” He questioned, combing through her wild hair. 

“I dwew you somfing,” She held up her paper, with colorful squiggles all over it. 

“What’s this? Huh? You wanna tell me about it?” He asked her, gently grabbing the paper from her. 

“You fwying!” She cheered, pointing to the top of the page, “And Mawma and me and Auntie Nat watching!”

“That’s amazing, Kiddo! Can I put this in my locker at work so I can look at it before I fly everyday?” He asked, to which she nodded quickly. 

“Show everyone?” She asked.

“Yeah Munchkin, I’ll show them all! Gotta show off something my favorite girl made,” He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, “I love you, Wrennie.”

“I wuvs you!” 

She placed a big wet kiss on Jake’s cheek and smiled as big as she could before turning around and running off again. Jose’s heart was warm from watching the two of them interact. She couldn’t help but wonder how Bradley would be around her, would she like him? Would he like her? 

“I saw Bradshaw driving away,” Jake mentioned slowly, “You wanna talk about that?”

“Do you want to hear about it?” Jose raised an eyebrow. 

“Based off of the freshly fucked look you have, I don’t think so,” Jake gagged, “Are you two a thing again?”

“Yeah…I think we are.”

“Good, it’s about damn time y’all sorted it out.”

Jake was right, it was about damn time.

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw imagines #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #Bradley rooster Bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

[littlejuicebox]

Dancing in a burning room

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character/Ranger AKA AstarionxWren Rating/Warnings: M+ for gore, no smut in this one, Act 1 spoilers Chapter number: Eight Word count: 4.1K (Sheesh! Had to move the plot along.) Masterlist: Click here. Song inspiration: "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" - John Mayer Notes: Let's play a game, tell me where the song inspiration references are in the fic.

-----

Astarion woke before Wren, his elven trance much more efficient than the haphazard, limb-twisting sleep of the half-elf. His eyes fluttered open, and the vampire found himself, once again, at a loss for what to do next. It was still dark, the diffused apricot glow of Wren’s makeshift lamp the only source of light in the camp. The entire ordeal was unfamiliar… it was strange, waking up next to someone he’d bedded the night before sleeping peacefully beside him instead of startling awake to their screams of their absolute terror. He mentally added it to the growing list of firsts in his lifetime.

The vampire studied the woman's face and noted the slight upturn of her nose, the sharp angle of her cheekbones, and the minute scrunch between her eyebrows as she dreamed, as if concentrating in her sleep. In the past, he’d gone through great efforts to avoid remembering the faces of anyone he laid with, and yet this time the rogue found himself trying to commit her face to his memory… he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was merely clinging to any silly little moment of comfort he found in the wilds in order to preserve the memory, in case his next 200 years were filled by further torture when Cazador found him.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, the vampire rolled out of bed, leaving the woman to her rest. He needed to be out of there and hunting before anyone woke up… or caught him coming out of Wren’s shelter and started asking too many questions he didn’t have answers to. He broke through the tent and in doing so broke the spell that had been woven around the two in a haze of smoke and starlight last night. As he exited, he ignored a gnawing feeling rising in pit of his stomach, a whispering fear that he'd created an unintended soft spot for himself. A sort of lingering dread, akin to an ongoing, high-pitched ringing he could barely hear but was faintly aware existed, followed him as he exited the shelter and wandered into the forest.

-----

When Wren awoke, she turned to find the pillow next to her empty and already absent of any body heat. Admittedly, she had expected as much, but a sliver of her heart felt the faint pang of disappointment. The ranger turned to face the canvas ceiling, pushing curled tendrils of hair away as her eyes adjusted to the light still radiating from the amber vessel. In the quiet solitude of her shelter and the stark soberness of her constitution, after the blissful haze of last night, she was forced to finally acknowledge the coils of guilt clutching her heart.

‘It’s been years, Wren. You’ve locked yourself in a cage... and you’ve chosen to unlock it now. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

The logic was there. And yet, so was the shame, ripping at her core and clutching at her organs, forcing her breaths to turn shallow. But today wasn’t a day for brooding and self-loathing; they had goblins to kill and a Druid to find.

After donning her armor, Wren exited the tent to be greeted by bright flares of sunlight and an already bustling camp. Had she truly been the last to rise? The medicinals and physical exertion from last night must have knocked her into a deeper slumber than she'd realized. The little bird bent down to grab her quiver and caught a glimpse of something nestled amongst the arrows. She grabbed at the out of place thing, withdrawing a simple surprise that she recognized immediately. An Aster flower. For all his innuendo, the vampire could sometimes be explicitly on the nose.

The edges of Wren's neck flushed around the leather collar of her armor, almost making the skin itch with the rush of new blood. She turned her head just a fraction to look at the vampire, feeling the prickling heat of his gaze upon her. Astarion was sitting on a boulder, the picture of nonchalance. He met her eyes with a soft smirk and a sly wink, dagger in one hand as he poked the tip of the narrow blade against his opposing finger, testing the sharpness. The silver-haired rake flicked the weapon slightly, a subtle hello laced in the glint of a dagger, before turning to laugh at some joke Karlach made at Wyll’s expense.

It was a simple, sweet, innocent little secret between the two of them, but something about it set the little bird's body on fire. She lamented the fact that she could not stride across the camp and hold him like she wanted... how she longed to feel him in her arms in that moment. But instead, Wren quickly plucked the flower from her quiver and pressed it between the pages of the tattered spell book she’d stolen from Nettie days ago, snuffing out the feelings brewing inside as she went.

-----

The first few phases of the goblin camp raid went smoothly. Astarion and Wren efficiently took out the scouts while Shadowheart — affectionately called Drowheart by her campmates while in her disguise — made her rounds poisoning the food and alcohol supply and freeing the Owlbear.

“Okay. Dror Ragzlin will be in here.” Shadowheart explained in a hushed whisper, drawing an "X" on a makeshift schematic of the temple as they readied themselves outside of the gargantuan doors. “First, we handle Minthara and get Halsin.” She circled room on the periphery of the temple to show that location. “Then, we all take out the Hobogoblin and his hoard.”

“Minthara?” Wren asked, voice cracking just slightly at the end, which she attempted to cover up with a cough.

Astarion picked up on the strangeness of her tone, head cocking to examine the woman through his peripherals. She'd been oddly quiet on the way to the camp, but he'd chalked it up to battle nerves or some sort of post-coital awkwardness, which he himself felt. He flicked his gaze over to the ranger with interest, white brows furrowing as he studied her; he could hear the moment her heart picked up its pace and the stable thrum turned into a rapid fire. But other than that, she’d turned stone cold. Impassive. Unreadable.

“Yes, Minthara.” Shadowheart huffed, already growing impatient. They had limited time to act and the pressure of being the one to call the shots was slowly dripping weight onto one of the scales within her psyche and unbalancing her constitution. “Any more questions? Then let’s get on with it.”

Drowheart easily lead the group through the fallen temple, past several torture rooms filled with mangled bodies, and straight to Minthara. They’d been instructed to wait for the cleric’s signal before attacking. With so many goblin cultists and worgs wandering about, subterfuge was clearly the tactical advantage; although distracted, Wren was aware enough to be proud the cleric knew her stuff.

It was a damn good plan. It was a great plan, even. It might’ve truly worked. But halfway through the conversation Drowheart and Minthara were having about “trying” to find Emerald Grove, the two women gesturing over a large map strewn upon an oak desk, the paladin turned to catch a glimpse of Wren where she’d attempted to obscure herself behind Wyll and Karlach.

Minthara’s eyebrows furrowed as she drifted away from the conversation, no longer captivated by Drowheart’s -- admittedly lackluster -- attempts at theatrics and distraction. Wren felt the woman's eyes upon her and couldn’t help but lift her head to acknowledge the Drow, chin cocked in subtle pride. Minthara’s face clicked with recognition. All the parasites reared their bodies and linked together in a volatile ripple as the True Soul aggressively delved into Wren’s mind, desiring to confirm her suspicions.

The group got pulled into a deeply hidden, foggy memory of a younger Wren wearing a lightly embroidered, bell sleeved blue dress. For a moment, the edges of the vision were a bloom of vignette, and the memory had a feeling of being closely guarded by the keeper. It took aggressive delving from Minthara to pull the memory from Wren, the little bird’s psyche unwilling to release it and clutching to the precious thing with thorned tendrils in an attempt to protect from the intrusion.

But finally, the paladin broke through, and the vision was opened to reveal all. Wren wore a flower crown, dark, lengthy braids, and the visage of a more optimistic, less time-worn young half-elf. She was holding onto the arm of a salt and peppered man, his eyes that same amber color as Wren’s real eye — clearly, her father. They were walking toward a red-eyed, white-haired Drow holding out his hand to her; several semi-blurred faces were in the background. It was autumn, and the breeze picked up and scattered leaves from the trees, swirling them around the memory like confetti, causing memory Wren to laugh in delight. The emotion of the scene was deep and extreme; a sickening, overwhelming combination of adoration, excitement, and sadness all in one. As it ended, the lingering, intense feelings sent the entire group reeling from the vividness of it all.

Wren forced Minthara out of her brain with extreme effort, though her face remained almost impassive. Almost. Astarion caught the glimpse of a single tear rolling out the woman’s eye before she blinked the rest away. The half-elf eyes narrowed as she locked her gaze onto the Drow woman, clutching the hilt of her scimitar in a white-knuckled grip.

“I remember you... you're the ranger woman that caused my cousin to forsake Lolth.” Minthara spit in disgust as she broke out of the trance. If the group hadn't been sent spinning from the sensation of intruding on someone's most secret memories, they might have considered that tone odd from another Drow no longer serving Lolth. But cultural indoctrination ran deep, regardless of hypocrisy.

The atmosphere in the room flipped. Thick, heavy air and a subtle thrum of energy plucked itself around the room. The vampire knew, without really understanding how he knew, that the ranger was about to unleash that fascinating form of terror like what she'd released onto the Gur; the storm of rage and vengeance before the calm of death. He felt the hairs on his arms stand at attention just as Wren lunged across the desk, hands outstretched and blue snaps of lightening already crackling at her fingertips.

Chaos reverberated around the room and descended upon the gang almost as fast as lightning strikes; Drowheart’s plan was shot to hell by the archer with nary a bow in sight. Gale had slyly locked them all together at the beginning with an arcane lock on the door — nobody in, nobody out; fight to the death quickly became the agenda. Lae’zel and Karlach broke into the pandemonium first, screaming their individual war cries as they swung their sword and axe, respectively. Blood rained around them in spiraled drops of crimson. They were quickly followed by Shadowheart and Wyll, both playing support roles to the fearless, raging women.

A well-placed blast of thunderwave from Gale knocked two goblins that had been running to Minthara’s aid into the cavern beneath the dilapidated room; the wizard was playing defense and doing everything in his magical power to keep the altercation between their gang leader and the Drow a fair fight. The women were swinging at one another with their melees; Minthara's pointed mace narrowly made contact with Wren's ribs and sent a sharp cry of pain from the half-elf. The ranger managed to grab the mace on the second swing, her own weapon clattering to the ground during the tussle, before she placed a swift kick to the Drow’s abdomen. The move knocked Minthara prone, disarming her in the process. Wren tossed the mace aside where it skittered into the cavern below.

Gale might've been trying to keep the fight fair, but Astarion had other ideas entirely. He would gladly stab Minthara in the back. But two more goblins, smarter than their counterparts, had climbed overhead into the crossbeams. He was pinned in place. Every time the vampire tried to advance, he was greeted by a meticulous flurry of arrows that sent him reeling back towards cover. ‘Damn Gale and his dibs on the missile snaring gloves.’

The women were now in a fist fight on the rough, cold ground, each haphazard roll for dominance forcing the pair closer and closer to the edge of the room where a cavern gaped below. It was clear Minthara was stronger, but Wren was fueled by an explosive combination of pure rage and murderous revenge, which helped even the playing field. The two were locked in a battle of strength and will, both too stubborn to give up their pursuits to acknowledge they were on the brink of death.

In a split decision Astarion dashed forward, narrowly outrunning a flurry of arrows just as Minthara and Wren both tumbled over the edge of the crevasse. A lone arrow buried itself in his calf, slicing all the way through, as the vampire made the final dive towards Wren, his long limbs outstretched and desperately grasping for the woman. The rogue barely caught the half elf by the freckled hand as she slid over the edge. When he looked down, Astarion saw the paladin grasping haphazardly at the ranger, attempting to maintain her hold.

“You should have remembered me as the woman that downed two of house Baenre.” Wren hissed through clenched teeth as the little bird placed a swift kick to Minthara's face, ripping a string of blood and a grunt of pain from the Drow.

The agony from the arrow lodged in Astarion's leg was searing and sharp. The burning through his calf became almost unbearable as blood began to pool towards the front of his pants, but the vampire kept both hands firmly locked around Wren’s forearm. Teeth gritted, beads of sweat rolling down his face, the silver-haired elf groaned with immense effort as he struggled to hold the weight of the two women. Wren glanced up at Astarion, and as their eyes connected, she gave him a wild look he didn't understand.

Then he felt it, the slight current of electricity running through him, like a pulse. Not painful, but noticeable. Wren released a shattering scream as she bent the electricity through her own body, deftly curving it away from Astarion and towards Minthara. The searing force of the spell shot azure bolts down the ranger's arm, burning the jagged pattern into her flesh as she doubled in her efforts; the wail ripped from Wren’s vocal cords rang into the cavern and echoed back to them.

The paladin tried her best to hold on, but the blistering agony became too great, and her body’s natural response overruled her brain’s will -- she released the ranger’s hand with a look of pure terror on her face. Astarion and Wren both watched, unable to look away from the horrid scene, as the Drow tumbled into the dark abyss before disappearing from view.

“A little help here!” Astarion shouted, coming back to his senses, all energy positively ripped from him by now, miraculously clutching to whatever final shreds of strength and willpower remained. The little bird began trying to pull herself back over the edge, deft fingers hooked into the stone ledge. Astarion had the sickening thought that no one was going to come and save them, and he was going to lose his greatest ally, but finally, blessedly, Wyll ran toward the rogue and helped drag the ranger back over the edge.

“Make that the woman that downed three of house Baenre.” The brunette half-elf grumbled with a wry chuckle as she grasped the cold cobblestone. She heaved for a moment, eyes turning to assess the damage to her campmates. They were scattered about the room in various states of deterioration from the battle that had just ensued, but alive. The others were tending to their wounds, drinking healing potions, rearranging their weaponry... or in Shadowheart and Lae'zel's case, kissing passionately. The little bird turned to look at Astarion and gasped as she caught him breaking the shaft of the arrow before ripping it from his leg. "Astarion! You're wounded!"

Astarion winced as he cast the projectile aside before turning to snap at the woman. He couldn't help it -- the fear, fucking pain and frustration all rose to the surface the moment he heard her voice. "How good of you to notice, darling. Why yes, yes I am! I'll take that as a thank you for saving your life after you practically pitched yourself off a fucking cavern edge."

Wren reached her hand toward the vampire’s leg, and he nearly ripped away from her touch before feeling the subtle warmth of her healing spell. Then she grabbed her own arm, rubbing at the jagged burn marks that danced across her flesh; her quick attempt to heal the marks was unsuccessful. After a deep breath, the half-elf stood and turned her two-toned eyes back to the rogue, extending her hand to help him stand. “Thank you.”

Astarion had so many questions for her that he couldn’t ask in that moment, and so much anger that he couldn’t express, either. What in the hells had happened to her husband? Where in the hells had she even met a Drow? Why in the hells did she think pitching herself off a cavern edge would be the best choice when battling Minthara? How in the hells did any of that add up to get her where she was, standing before him, after nearly falling to her death? He sighed a frustrated huff and took her hand, shoving the questions into the back of his mind. “Alright then, little bird. Let’s finish what we started and get the hells out of his place.”

-----

Breaking Halsin from the cage was easy; Astarion had the lock undone with barely the flick of a wrist. The Druid was given a brief run down from the gang and was quick to join their cause. After that, a little bit of tactical planning went a long way to making the rest of the raid a breeze in comparison to the mishap with Minthara.

Days ago, Gale and Shadowheart worked in tandem to hide several vases of oil in the rafters above Dror Ragzlin’s throne room. A few well-placed arrows from Wren and Lae’zel sent the thick, slick liquid down in spiraling waterfalls around the hoard before anyone had a moment to catch on to the subterfuge. Two firebolts from Gale and Astarion, followed by several more vessels of oil thrown from the rest of the crew, and nearly the entire room and hoard went up in flames.

Dror and a few goblins were all that remained among the sweltering inferno, and Halsin quickly wildshaped into his bear form, charging toward the Hobogoblin with no intentions for mercy. Karlach, Lae'zel, and Wyll followed behind, heavily dosed on fire-resistance potions and intercepting any goblin stupid enough to join the thrall.

Wren and Astarion were on the periphery of the battle, focused on taking on any outlying stragglers; Shadowheart and Gale were nearby, focused on containing the fire itself. If anyone from the gang had an opportunity to watch the rogue and ranger in that moment, they would've witnessed a remarkable amount of coordination between the two as they were encircled by foes. It appeared as if they were locked in a dance where only they knew the steps; Wren ducked where Astarion swung, he dodged where she stabbed; an arrow was shot at every foe along the vampire's back just as a dagger was tossed at every goblin at the half-elf's. Each movement was fluid and instinctual, their bodies working in tandem; they were truly dancing in a burning room.

Before long, all of the goblins were felled and Dror Ragzlin's limp body expelled its last deep, dying breath before being violently shredded to ribbons by an unyielding cave bear. The gang watched in both horror and fascination as Halsin's wildshape form tore into the red flesh of their foe, none of them daring to inhibit the bear’s nature and succumb to heavy paws themselves. Finally, the fit of rage subsided, and the Druid returned to his elven form, panting, but with hardly a scratch on his person.

Halsin turned to face the gang, all focused on the mountain of a man as he gazed down at them with shockingly gentle eyes for someone that had just committed such obscene violence. "Pardon the viscera... but thank you all, truly, for your rescue."

The beat of silence spread too long across the group. Halsin was... an impressive creature, to be sure. Everyone stood in awe of his hulking frame, battle prowess, and quiet, commanding nature. It was Wren who spoke first, after a soft clearing from her throat. "I've heard great things about you, Archdruid Halsin. From your associates at the grove… and from my father."

Astarion's vermillion eyes snapped between the little bird and the mountain man in shock. She was regarding Halsin with no small amount of adoration; almost as if she were the Druid's biggest fan and meeting the celebrity, if you could call him that, for the first time. Yet another secret revealed at the most inopportune time, and something in his psyche prickled with... jealousy? Add Halsin to the list of men he couldn't compete with in Wren's eyes, just under her dead husband.

Halsin regarded the ranger with interest, his eyes scanning her face for a sign of familiarity in her features, trying to place her parentage. "What is your name, dear one?"

"Wren Yildirim, sir. Of the Styrmir nomads. My father, Draven Yildirim, traded with you and your grove, learned several medicinal recipes from you, and was lucky enough to receive aid from your own hands after a run in with a swarm of poisonous snakes almost a vicennial ago." Her tone was quiet, almost reverent. "You may not remember me. But I remember you. I was but a girl when you happened upon my injured father and our clan all those years ago."

The Archdruid's eyes softened with recognition as he placed a gentle, albeit massive, hand on the woman's shoulder. "Ah yes, I do remember you. And your father. Forgive me... I have lived many years, and it is impossible to recall every being I've met or have aided. But it is good to see you healthy and thriving, Wren. Your father spoke of you with great pride upon our meetings."

Astarion eyes crinkled with suspicion. What in the hells? All the revelations from today were giving him whiplash. Had they all been led to save Wren's Druid idol in some sort of twisted blood debt? All the bleeding hearts in the gang seemed on the verge of tears as the webs of this story wove around them -- Karlach, for one, was practically sobbing.

The vampire rolled his eyes, now thoroughly done with the entire affair and itching to get back to camp. Not to mention, the pain in his calf seared with renewed vigor as the numbing adrenaline of battle subsided. “Sorry to interrupt this… lovely reunion, but can we get the hells out of here now? There are surely a few more goblins waiting for us outside the temple and at this point I think the grove is waiting anxiously for our return. Best to not keep them waiting, hm?"

Everyone nodded in agreement and readied for the final phase of clearing out the fallen temple. Astarion had a million questions swirling in his head as he sliced through the last few foolish goblins that chose pride over flight. In the vampire's mind, he wondered if perhaps he were remaining blindly tethered to their little bird leader. Had he replaced Cazador with another master, much more subtle in her manipulations? Had he, for once, been the seduced rather than the seducer? Would he become just like the goblins that now fell before him... a useless, bloodied corpse, easily forgotten and replaced? Shouldn't he know by now; shouldn't he have learned by now not to trust anyone?

All the time Astarion spent with this woman left him with more questions than answers and he found himself more deeply wrapped into whatever web she wove around them all from his lack of planning and general impulsivity. The vampire resolved that when they returned to camp, that would have to change; he would need some answers, or he would be forced to leave and hope to make it to Baldur's Gate alone. Time was running out. Cazador was coming for him. The spell had been broken and he had to stop playing unwitting knight in someone else's story.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x original female character #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 oc #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc

[vaehbae]

As she cried, she felt the slightest movement underneath her. She lifted her head and optimism filled her as she watched Ezra open his eyes.

“Oh thank god!” she gasped, planting kisses on his forehead. His heart rate returned to its normal rhythm and air filled his lungs as he tried to speak.

“Shh, save your energy.”

The noise of a ship above caused Sabine to look up and place a hand on her blaster, but she quickly removed it upon realizing it was Ahsoka.

Ahsoka and Huyang helped Sabine bring Ezra aboard and lay him in one of the bottom bunks. With shaking hands, Sabine removed his shirt and applied a bacta patch to the gaping hole in his stomach.

For the next hour or so, Ezra drifted in and out of consciousness, crying out in pain and reaching for Sabine. When he finally drifted to sleep, he was fighting a fever which worried Sabine, but Ahsoka assured her it was a good thing and meant his body was attempting to fight off any infections.

It wasn’t long before Sabine herself fell asleep in the chair by his bed. Ahsoka covered her in a blanket and bid her and Ezra goodnight.

Sabine woke the next morning to Ezra attempting to get out of bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sabine asked.

“To help Huy-ow!” he said, clutching his stomach.

“Ow is right, get back into bed.”

“Sabine, I’m fine.”

He stood up, but immediately stumbled, almost falling flat on his face.

“You don’t seem fine” replied Sabine, steadying him, “now please lie back down, that’s an order.”

Ezra sighed, but did as he was told.

“If you need anything, you ask for it, okay?”

Ezra nodded.

Sabine turned to leave, but Ezra grabbed her arm.

“Sabine.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finding me, for taking care of me.”

“It was nothing. You would have done the same if I was in your position.”

Ezra cocked his head.

“Did you mean it, when you, uh-when you said you loved me?”

“Oh you heard that?” Sabine blushed.

“I may have been close to death but the force is a pretty wild thing.”

“Is it now?” Sabine said, inching closer to his face.

“Yeah, you should try it sometime.”

“Well, I’d need someone to show me how.”

“Like this?” Ezra said, pulling her to him and making out with her.

Sabine embraced the kiss and the two of them sat there touching each other’s bodies and exchanging sloppy, breathless kisses full of passion.

They only stopped when Huyang entered the room to alert them that they were dropping out of warp.

“I love you, Ezra Bridger” Sabine whispered to him, giving him one last peck.

“And I you, Sabine Wren.”

So cute! I appreciate you wrapping this one up with fluff! 💜💙 I love how playful they are with each of her and the fact Sabine is so protective over him! Amazing! Thank you so much for sharing

#sabezra #ezra bridger #ezrabine #sabine wren #bluebean #sabine x ezra #sabine and ezra #ask fic #fluff #confort #hurt/aftermath #adorable

[raccoonfallsharder]

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter four. anthrodynia. [new 3/19] ❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 4/25 | wip | word count: pending.

the monster regrets. see below for warnings & notes.

There are two berth-style bunks but he’s always been on his own, and so one has been covered in tools and machines and mines, all in various stages of being constructed or dismantled. She clutches her hands in at her collarbone — just as well, the Monster thinks, because she probably shouldn’t touch any of this shit unless she wants to possibly lose her cute little fingers at best, or blow a hole in the side of the runabout at worst — but he’s startled when she sways over his makeshift workbench, peering down with something like fascination painted on her pretty face. “You made all these?” she asks. Fuck — she sounds so nice like that, voice all drenched with awe and admiration.  He abruptly realizes that he’s still gonna have to figure out the bunk situation. “Shit,” he hisses, and she jumps.  “S-sorry—“ “What—? Not you, pearl.” He sighs. He’s not gonna get any sleep tonight anyway — too focused on getting as far away from HalfWorld as possible, on figuring out where to drop the first careful misdirection, figuring out where to drop her — and would it be so wrong to just have her sleep in his bunk tonight? His dick twitches in response and he seethes. “Lay down,” he orders in a growl.  She hesitates only for a second, then skirts him and lowers herself carefully to the berth, leaning awkwardly as she balances on her unbruised side.

read chapter four on ao3

WARNINGS: aftercare. references to chapter two’s violence. regret. sexual fantasies and general horniness. references to food restriction/dieting.

i appreciate every one of you who has stuck around for this. i'm working hard on this (i have about ten chapters drafted and i'm watching this fic become longer and longer because we will eventually get to "real" plot with like. reuniting with old friends and shit.) there's a little bit of a fix-it fantasy in here for me beyond just comforting & fucking the raccoon. anyway if you stick around i hope you won't be disappointed.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. masterlist, notes, & moodboard .⋆☁︎ :･꧂

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

#cicatrix #rocket raccoon #rocket x oc #rocket raccoon smut #angst with a happy ending #rocket smut #rocket raccoon x oc #rocket gotg #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg smut #gotg rocket x oc #gotg oc #guardians of the galaxy #gotg fanfiction #rfh fanfic #gotg rocket #original character #guardians of the galaxy smut #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocketraccoon #rocket raccoon x original character #gotg original character #oc x rocket raccoon #smut #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon lemons #gotg x oc #rocket raccoon x reader smut #rfh smut #guardians of the galaxy oc

[radiant-reid]

Beyond Breaking // Chapter Two

Aftermath

Summary: The consequences of both Reids' actions are felt in the household and the ripples are felt by the wider BAU family

Content Warning: divorce, heavily referencing 14x15, Truth or Dare

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist/Navigation  Series Masterlist

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The next morning, Y/n had to deal with the tears. It only further fueled her irritation with Spencer. And it added to the list of difficult situations he'd put her in.

"Where's daddy?" Florence asked, walking into Y/n and Spencer's bedroom after she woke up. One of the problems with having three children is that you have to explain to each one, individually, that their dad is gone when they came in for morning cuddles.

Her hair was sticking up everything, brown curls that were messier than her father's, as her eyes darted around the room in a futile attempt to find him.

Y/n chose to lie about it to Maddie and Bennett, and she did the same thing again without hesitation. "He had to go to work, baby." She lied through her teeth. She'd lied to her kids far more times than she would have liked to.

The tears were almost instant, running down her little cheeks as she clutched her teddy bear tighter. Spencer had brought for her when he missed her first birthday party and she hadn't stopped sleeping with it at night. The dark brown colored bear wore a Cubs outfit, a gift from Florence's uncle which matched her cousin Hank's bear. It was very, very important to the little girl.

It broke Y/n's heart to see her baby like that, so distraught because of her dad, and she felt so guilty for not trying harder. She got out of bed, walked over to the crying toddler, and picked her up.

"Baby." She cooed, running her hand through Florence's hair in an attempt to calm her down. Her daughter cuddled into her neck and wet tears spilled onto her skin. Her face was red, lips contorted and her breathing unsteady. "Hey, what does he always say, Wren?" Y/n asked, bouncing her up and down, hoping it would calm her.

The nickname that Spencer usually used slipped out of her lips before she could stop it. Maybe because the last time Florence was hysterically crying, she had to have a shot and Spencer hugged her exactly the same way after. Y/n could still remember the warmth in her heart at seeing them like that and how proud she was of him for volunteering to get a flu shot even though he hated needles.

"Come on, I know you remember it, smart girl." She encouraged, placing a kiss on her wet cheek.

"He always says he loves me." Her begrudging tone was an indicator of her anger, and Y/n didn't blame her for it.

"And what else?" Y/n prompted.

Florence looked like she was trying to remember it properly, even though Spencer had been telling her it since she was conceived. "And that he loves Lainey, Bennie, and mommy."

That wasn't what Y/n expected her to say, and it wasn't what she was pushing for. She tried not to have a visceral reaction to how deeply the toddler's words affected her. "I meant the other thing." She clarified quietly, determined not to cry in front of her kids.

Florence got it that time. "He will always come back." Usually, Y/n could rely on that fact to get the kids through their sad moments missing Spencer, but it didn't seem so sure anymore.

"He loves you, baby." Y/n reminded her. "And I love you, too." She added, planting kisses all over her cheeks until the little girl was squirming and pulling away. "Now, what do you think about pancakes for breakfast?"

"Can we have whipped cream, too?" Florence asked, clearly feeling a little better about Spencer being gone, and that was all Y/n could ask for.

"Absolutely, and sprinkles." She agreed, hugging her for just a little bit longer than normal before taking her downstairs so she could make her three favorite people breakfast.

Life without Spencer was easier than Y/n thought it would be. Probably because she'd spent 80% of her time in the same situation since she left the BAU all those years ago. Some of it was different, though.

There were no late-night phone calls from Spencer, a frequent occurrence at the peak of their marriage when he was back in his hotel room after hours of working on the same stressful case.

There hadn't been any 'I love you' declarations for some time before he left but she missed them a little more now that he was gone.

There wasn't a pool of despair to swim in because she'd accepted the fact they were finished months before that night in the kitchen.

Everything just felt empty.

And Y/n knew she was a hollow, shell of who she used to be, but she forced herself to think of it as a positive, maybe now she could find who she really was. Every day, she held it together for them, but she couldn't fool herself into thinking things were okay.

~

Spencer had gone where he knew the best place to go was: Emily's. She was his big sister, after all, and it wasn't exactly like he could go to JJ's. Rossi's brought complications since he and Krystal were much closer to Y/n, Luke could have worked but he felt wrong to encroach on his and Penelope's time together, and Tara, without a doubt, would have told him exactly how he was wrong and against his better judgment, he didn't want that.

Knocking on Emily's door, he was still too furious with Y/n to be feeling guilty. "Spence, hey." She greeted him, eyes drifting to the bag at his side. There was no hesitance for her to stand out of the way and let him in. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He answered instinctively, stepping in from the plain hallway. "Well, physically."

"Sit." She instructed. It didn't take a genius to know something was wrong with him. Emily had noticed things over the weeks like the lack of phone calls Spencer made to his wife, the fact he didn't share as many anecdotes involving her, and how he hadn't cleaned his rings in a long time. All those little things added up. "I'm making you tea," Emily told him before she disappeared off to the kitchen.

Spencer sat there for a moment, head dropping to his hands as he tried not to think about everything going on in his life. One thing he knew was he'd fucked up.

When she came back with tea, Emily wasn't sure she'd ever seen him such a mess. Even after Hankel, his condition had never deteriorated as quickly as it did from Tuesday night when she watched him walk out of the BAU until now, Friday night.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to." She spoke, breaking the silence looming over the room. He jumped slightly, so lost in his own world he hadn't noticed her return.

He took the cup of tea that she handed him, all his attention focused on her expensive teacups and the aroma of the liquid. "Did you get this from Penelope?"

"Yeah, from when she was in London with Luke last week." She answered, cautiously watching his every move.

"I know how much she loved going to visit you when you lived there," Spencer commented. Idle small talk was not what he was there for, and one inquisitive look from Emily prompted him to start talking. "I think... Y/n and I m-maybe broke up." He said, voice rising in pitch as if it was a question because he was so unsure about everything. "Is that what it's called when you're married?"

Emily couldn't control her shocked expression, her lips parting slightly. For a moment, she fumbled for what question to ask. Of course, she knew things could look great on the outside but be incredibly different behind closed doors, but she'd never seen them anything but deeply in love.

"I'm so sorry, Spence." She said, reaching out to touch his hand in the hopes of providing him some support. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" Going off no information was difficult, and she had no idea whether it was a spur-of-the-moment call or not.

"I thought things were turning around." He admitted, coming to the realization himself at that moment. "It's really stupid." God, he felt like an idiot. One moment he was telling her he didn't want to live there anymore, and the next he was crying to Emily about how much he fucked up.

She shook her head. "I didn't know anything happened... well, I kind of assumed something must have gone down after... but I didn't know what."

He huffed, tapping his foot up and down like he did when he was anxious. "Something was definitely happening." It was difficult for Emily to figure out what he was talking about without any context clues. It was time for him to start spilling his guts. "After prison, everything was different. I knew it would be, but I tried to fix it... I swear I did."

The tears were already flowing out of his eyes as much as he wanted them to stop. It was like he was a helpless little kid all over again or a helpless adult, trying to convince himself he had done his best.

"I know you would have, Spencer," Emily reassured him, trying to get him to ground a little more before he spiraled by squeezing his hand.

"She just- I know she struggled," Spencer admitted, and Emily nodded in agreement, unable to recall exactly how many times Y/n had been crying on the phone. "And I tried to fix it, but I'm not sure who I am, and I don't think I can love her anymore."

Emily could feel her heart breaking for both of them. They'd survived so many things that she thought they could get through everything. "Do you want to?" She asked, only getting a frown from Spencer whose brain was so far away it didn't register the question. "Love Y/n the way you used to?"

"More than anything," Spencer confirmed, his heart physically hurting when the words came out. "She's everything I've ever wanted... Our family- I fucked up, Em." He seldom called her that, but it was easier than sobbing out her whole name. "The thing is, I don't know if I want to fix it."

"So you're going to let it all go?" She asked, shaking her head in disbelief. Spencer's eyes met hers and he nodded. "No. No, that's not you. You came here when I was ready to throw in the towel and convinced me not to. You never took that plea bargain because you're not a quitter, Spencer Reid."

He shook his head, wiping up a few tears. "Because I believe in you and I believed I didn't kill anyone. I don't believe in Y/n and I anymore."

"I do," Emily confessed firmly. "You two have faced so many difficult challenges together, and you come out hand-in-hand every time. Surely it hasn't all been bad since prison."

Spencer hated that she knew something else was going on. "Things were getting worse after that because there was so little effort, and then, of course, there was LA." That might have been a worse betrayal than Emily dying, and he was only starting to see it now.

"LA." Emily hummed in agreement, raising her eyebrows. "What she did was effective."

Spencer couldn't disagree with that. He wasn't entirely sure they were getting out of there alive, but they did, and JJ deserved credit for that. "And Y/n doesn't understand that." He complained.

"She was just as blindsided as you. JJ is one of her best friends, but the fact you're angry at her for not understanding when she's upset is kind of wrong, don't you think? It's pushing her away." Emily prompted him.

"She should understand it. She used to do this job." He reiterated, annoyed Emily wasn't siding with him. Maybe he just should have gone to Tara's.

There was a pause while Emily watched his expression, absolutely going against the no-profiling rule. "There is something between you and JJ." She correctly guessed. "Even if it's just unresolved feelings from before Y/n."

"She said something, Y/n did, about how so much some of our milestone moments correlate with JJ and Will's relationship and now I can't stop thinking about it," Spencer confessed, his heart still sore about it. All the flip-flopping he was doing made it very clear that he wasn't thinking properly. "Could I just have been faking it this whole time?"

Emily chuckled at the extercential crisis it seemed like he was having. Trust Spencer to overcomplicate things. "That's a lot of faking." She commented.

"I just... I don't think I can love Y/n how I used to. It's not just JJ's fault because things haven't been the same since prison." Spencer summarized, trying to collect his thoughts.

He had never been good about talking things out, and Emily could see he had already made up his mind. "You have to go to therapy." She told him sternly. "Legally, for the FBI, but you need to go with her, too." He was too stubborn to agree without more of a reason. "Even if you're not going to get back together, to help you communicate for your kids."

He did hate it when she was right because she was always right, just like Y/n was. "I mean, I can ask." It occurred to him then that he had slipped so far away from her that he didn't know what she'd think of couples therapy.

"Ask," Emily insisted. "Because I don't know if you can figure this, but I think you want to which is a good start, and I don't think that's a deep-down feeling." She didn't go on to say how in love she still thought Spencer and Y/n were.

Spencer huffed, his foot coming to rest. "Okay."

~

"Alright, who is ready to go to Uncle Dave's?" Y/n asked the three of them who were watching some cartoon on TV.

Almost identically, they sprung up, bouncing up and down with excitement. Even if their parents weren't together, they had the absolute best non-blood family and it was something Y/n was grateful for.

The kids had been told they needed to go to Rossi's because Y/n needed to get a few things done, not a total lie but she wasn't about to tell them she needed to go to couples therapy with their father for a reason unknown to her.

"Mommy, can I bring my coloring?" Bennett asked, concerned he wouldn't get to finish the rest of his picture.

"Of course." She agreed, ruffling his curls as he made his way to the foyer to get pick which shoes he wanted to wear. She put Florence's shoes on, letting Bennett do his velcro straps and Maddie do her own laces. "C'mon, let's get going before we're late."

Surprisingly, it took less time than usual for them to get in the car, and they were quickly at Rossi's mansion. Everyone was excited to get out of the car. Bennett and Florence helplessly kicked their feet up and down, unable to get out of the car without her help.

Krystall was already on the driveway, hugging Maddie who had freed herself from her car seat. When Bennett and Florence were on the ground, they rushed to hug her like their sister was.

Y/n gave her a quick hug once the kids ran inside, determined not to make it too long so she wouldn't be in tears.

"Are you doing okay?" Krystall asked, out of more than common courtesy. They had been quite close for a while, used to watching the men they loved in the same challenging job.

"I guess," Y/n answered. "I'll grab their stuff and come inside to talk to Dave if that's okay." She figured Rossi would be able to give her advice above what Krystall could give her, and she knew he would tell his wife.

Krystall gave her a squeeze on the shoulder. "Of course, it's okay." She assured her. "Whatever you need from either of us."

With three little backpacks in her hands, she stepped into the mansion. It was hard not to be flooded with memories of her and Spencer from the start of their relationship to a few weeks ago. She took a deep breath to get through it, trying to clear her brain a little.

"Hi, Bellissima." Rossi greeted her, pulling her into a tighter-than-usual hug. Y/n hugged him back before pulling back to show him a faked smile. "Come sit." He instructed, adding, "If you have time," as an afterthought.

She nodded, putting the kids' stuff down and making her way through the house until she ended up on a stool at the kitchen island. Out of the patio doors, she could see her three crazy kids already running around outside while Krystall watched them.

"What happened?" Rossi asked once he'd handed her a cup of coffee.

"Spencer did, I guess." She answered with a humorless chuckle. "We- I don't know if we're done..." Her heart hurt more that time, saying it aloud. "But I told him he shouldn't live there, he said I didn't care, there were some insults, and you know how stubborn he can be." She stopped, out of breath and Rossi nodded. "Then we talked about LA."

Rossi clenched his teeth together in a grimacing expression. "LA." Everyone had started saying the city's acronym with disgust. "I've always hated LA."

"He didn't think it was a big deal." She sobbed, trying and failing to wipe up the tears before they fell. Rossi was watching her carefully from across the bench, reaching out to hold her hand for support. "We had challenges after prison, and things went downhill, but I thought they could get better, before LA, that was."

"Y/n, I'm sorry." He comforted her, able to see the pain radiating off her. "Where are you at now?"

She attempted to wipe up some more of the mascara. "I gave him my ring." If that wasn't definitive, she didn't know what was. "He left, and then he text me asking me to go to therapy." Oh, yeah, that was the contradictory part.

"What do you want?" He asked, forcing her to think about the major decision. He couldn't stand to think about another BAU couple breaking up, one he had seen fall in love which made it a lot worse than Haley and Hotch. "Don't answer now, just... think about it."

Half-heartedly, she nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to." She replied like it wasn't something she thought about every moment.

"Whatever you need, Y/n, we're here." He assured her, hugging her again once she stood up before pulling back to kiss her cheeks.

"Thank you." She nodded gratefully. "I'm just going to say goodbye." As soon as she opened the patio door, all the attention was on her. Maddie, Bennett, and Florence all ran over to hug her, knowing what it looked like when someone was going. She kissed each of them on the forehead. "I love you all. Be good."

The three of them waved their identical waves at her as she walked out of the house. As soon as she got outside, she was alone. All alone. For the first time since Spencer left, there was no one she had to put a mask on for.

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[bluemoonshadow561]

Leftovers

Wren burped and tasted the chicken and rice she had eaten for lunch and was about to reheat and have for dinner. She had been experiencing weird tasting burps and a slight stomach ache all day. That and at work she had to leave her desk for forty-five minutes to sit on the toilet with diarrhea. She had hoped that was the worst of her tummy troubles for the day.

The chicken tasted just as delicious this evening as it had in the afternoon. Wren chewed slowly, savoring each sweet bite, hoping that would help her stomach digest it easier. She'd only eaten about a third of the leftovers while sitting and scrolling through TikTok before deciding she wasn't hungry anymore. She poured herself a glass of water from her Brita and sipped for another few minutes before moving to the couch to watch Blue Bloods.

She shifted around, trying to find a position that made her stomach hurt less, but the cramps were persistent. She rubbed her bloated belly and took deep breaths and more sips of water. She burped a few times, but it didn't do much to alleviate the pain.

Wren turned the shower faucet on and let the warm water run over her abdomen. She let out a content sigh and stood in the steam. But the cramps began to rage. She gulped and belched from deep in her core. Swallowing the cold, bitter saliva made her feel more nauseated, so she spit it onto the shower floor and tried to lather and rinse quickly, feeling sicker by the second.

She stepped out of the shower, clutching her stomach and kneeling in front of the toilet, dripping wet and moaning from the cold discomfort and wracking heaves. She spat a river into the toilet, but nothing came up, so she figured it was safe to get up.

She dried off and put on navy plaid pajama bottoms and an old 5SOS T-shirt. She twisted her hair up into a messy bun and curled up on her bed after placing her trash bin next to it.

Wren awoke drenched in sweat with pain shooting through her stomach. She gagged and a stream of warm, thick liquid erupted from her mouth and splattered onto her bed sheets. She clamped her hand over her mouth, sat up, and grabbed the trash bin before retching and vomiting into it. She spat leftover grains of rice and chunks of broccoli onto the paper scraps and chip and candy wrappers.

Her stomach clenched. She heaved loudly and chunks of liquefied chicken shot up her throat in a long stream and landed in the bin in a sickening clump. She coughed and couldn't even get in another breath before gagging and throwing up an even bigger wave, leaving her out of breath and gasping for air. She hiccuped and retched for the next twenty minutes, bringing up more puke until the bin was at capacity.

"Ugh," Wren groaned, wrinkling her nose at the odor and taste. It was going to be a long night.

#emeto #vomiting #sickfic #emetophilia #puke

[whiteravengreywolf]

The Greatest Mandalorian - a Wolfwren fanfiction

A/N: Hello everyone! I just posted the prologue of my new multichapter fanfiction. It's an AU in which Sabine's parents died during the Siege of Mandalore so she was trained by Bo-Katan. Here is the begining and if you want to read more the link will be at the end! First chapter comes out tomorrow :)

The Gauntlet stumbled on the frozen landing pad of the Wren stronghold, jarring Bo-Katan out of her thoughts. She had flown here in a daze, her thoughts not quite in place. They had saved Mandalore, but at what cost? She cut the ship’s engine and stood up. Here was the cost, two silver and gold helmets at the back of her ship. She picked both up, feeling their weight straining her shoulders.

She opened the ramp and let the frigid air of Krownest wrap around her. She had not felt warmth in months, it was only fair that she didn’t try to fight this cold either. She walked down. Clan Wren members stood on the landing pad, waiting for her, unbothered by the cold.

“Take me to her,” she ordered, though her voice didn’t sound as strong as she’d wished.

With a nod, the silver and gold Mandalorian took her into the stronghold. They navigated dark staircases and heated, narrow corridors, to the throne room. The door opened, letting Bo inside. She was clutching both helmets hard, her knuckled white in her gloves. She walked around the throne, under the gaze of a woman so alike Ursa, she might have thought her ghost had returned to haunt the stronghold. Her sister, Ylva, kept an eagle-like gaze on Bo-Katan as she walked around the throne and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. There, Bo saw she wasn’t alone. A little girl sat on her lap, no older than two. Her big, inquisitive eyes looked at Bo without the aggression her aunt was giving her. She had short dark brown hair and the puffy cheeks of an infant, still.

“Bo-Katan Kryze,” Ylva’s voice echoed in the throne room, bringing Bo’s attention back to her. “I heard of your victory on Mandalore.”

“A victory for Mandalore is not my victory. I wished more than anything that no one had had to die for it.”

“Not as much as I wish it. Why are you here?”

“I’ve come to pay my respect to Clan Wren, who suffered a heavy loss. Heavier than most. These belong to your clan.”

She presented both helmets to the new Countess. They had served their owners well, till the end. The visor on Aldrich’s was broken. The rangefinder on Ursa’s had been snapped off. It would have to be fixed before the helmet came to be used again.

Ylva turned to the little girl and whispered to her:

“Sabine, do you want to get your parents’ helmets?”

#wolfwren #fanfic #sabine wren #shin hati #sabine x shin #bo katan kryze

[evanspresso]

arguments after dinner

The ocean front restaurant roared with countless tables of friends and families, waiters and waitresses zooming past tables with large amounts of food and drinks as the night buzzed. 

Laughter and raised voices erupted through the air as y/n watched her boyfriend top off their friends’ wine glasses, forgetting count, y/n took a sip of the red wine that stained her lips.

The tartness of it washing down her throat caused her cheeks to flush while Wren leaned in towards her and clink yet another glass against hers.

“This is the best wine I’ve ever had!” She squealed.

Y/n shook her head, pointing towards the rest of the wine bottles that littered the white table cloth, “You said the one before that was the best you’ve ever had!” y/n laughed causing Wren to shrug and take another sip.

“It’s my birthday, you can’t ask me that!” Wren hiccuped, causing the table to erupt in chuckles and nodding heads. 

“It’s my birthday, you can’t ask me that!” Wren hiccuped, causing the table to erupt in chuckles and nodding heads. 

“It’s my birthday, you can’t ask me that!” Wren hiccuped, causing the table to erupt in chuckles and nodding heads. 

Y/n watched as Tommy took the last bite of his pasta and motion at your friends that it was time to head back to the hotel and take the drunk stragglers back to their hotel rooms. 

Y/n looked around, noticing Joseph and Natalia slump together, giggling at their forks and she couldn’t help but burst out in laughter. It was definitely time to go back to the hotel.

It’s all fun and games until people wake up hungover and not able to get out of bed, especially on vacation. None of them wanted anyone to miss tomorrows early morning water sport activities. 

Evan sighed loudly, wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders, calling out to everyone that it was indeed time to head back to the hotel so the group could get enough time to recuperate before tomorrow.

“Y/n aren’t you glad that you landed such a teddy bear?” Steve said, shoving Evan playfully.

“I know, I got pretty lucky for my first one, huh?” she wiggled her eyebrows over at the group of boys, they all laughed as she winked at her boyfriend who suddenly froze. 

Evan unraveled his arms that sprawled across his friends chest and stood up, his expression showing total shock but y/n didn’t notice. Y/n stood up, grabbing her clutch before pushing her chair back towards the table.

Her friends sporadically following her lead as she said wrapped her arms around Evan’s arm while they said their goodbye’s and goodnight’s.

The walk from the restaurant to the hotel wasn’t a long one, but y/n realized quickly that it would be a very quiet one. 

Suddenly, Evan unwrapped his arm around her as they walked silently, their shoes scuffling against the pebbled walkway. Y/n giggled playfully poking at his side making him scowl at her with furrowed brows, y/n’s eyes narrowed taken aback by her boyfriends action towards her playfulness. 

Maybe he wasn’t in in the mood? y/n hummed to push away her hurt feelings and snuggled her head against his chest causing him to stiffen under her touch- her heart dropped at yet another standoffish reaction.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned lightly.

Evan scoffed out a ‘it's whatever’ making her eyebrows furrow as she leaned her head back to glare at him, watching him roll his eyes into the night. “Okay, what the fuck?” 

If y/n wasn’t pissed then, y/n was definitely pissed now. She crossed her arms as Evan flew his hands up in the air and pointed at her like she knew exactly what he was apparently annoyed about.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” he chuckled darkly. “Like, really?” 

“Obviously! God forbid I can’t read your mind!” she watched him storm way from her, y/n’s shorter legs hurried after him with clenched fists. “Evan!” 

He couldn’t help but let out an annoyed laugh, shaking his head before rubbing his palm against his cheeks. Sure, he was annoyed at her, but the added alcohol in his system didn’t help his emotions and he couldn’t think twice about how he reacted. 

“What?!” He felt her hand clutch onto his shirt and he groaned, his legs slowing down because he knew he regularly walked too fast for her.

“Think! Think about why I might be annoyed y/n, seriously?” he shouted with his arms flying up from his sides.

He watched y/n put her hands on her hips in frustration as she looked at him with confusion. 

“You do this every single time, why can’t you just be an adult and tell me what you’re so pissed off about?!” 

“No I don’t! Why am I always the bad guy and.. what? I can’t be mad at you?” He yelled, his legs bringing him closer to y/n as she shooed him off with her hand, she rolled her eyes and huffed out as she looked towards the beach in the distance, wishing to be anywhere but here, fighting with her boyfriend on vacation. 

“You’re aloud to be mad at me! But its not fair when you won’t tell me why! I mean what could have possibly happened in that restaurant to make you so-” y/n stopped mid sentence as she snapped her head towards him, his eyes wide as he caught on to why she paused. 

He nodded, "yeah, yeah” he scoffed as he took off his hat and ran his hand over his hair. “Now you know.”

Y/n covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes tight, she never meant to not tell him, but she kept putting it off because she didn’t want to scare him off early on in their relationship. He never asked.

Eight months passed by and she never told him, now she wanted to find the right time and every time she thought that it would be the time, it would slip her mind.

She cursed loudly causing Evan to bite the inside of his cheek, watching her shoulders fall. “I’m sorry… I never meant to not tell you-”

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“You’re older than me and I thought it would have been awkward, or you wouldn’t be as interested in me if I told you. We were new and you were so.. so you, and I was nervous and I didn’t want you to think differently about me. Obviously, I- I don’t know what I was thinking 'cause I know you’d never think that way or make me feel any type of way.” y/n gushed.

Her eyes swelling with tears as she finally explained to her boyfriend that he was her first beau. “I’m sorry. I seriously didn’t mean to keep it from you I- I promise I’d never keep anything from you intentionally… especially something important for our relationship.”

Evan sucked in his breath as the salty air blew around the couple, his eyes glossing over as he watched y/n quietly break down right before him.

Evan quickly stepped towards her, his arms hugging her body close into his, her body shaking against his as she cried silently. “You don’t have to be sorry I- I shouldn’t have been so angry.” he cooed. “I just wish you told me.”

“I know” y/n croaked out as she sniffled, her big eyes scanning up to his face.

"I'm ten years- almost eleven years older than you. This shit is important to talk abut before getting into a relationship. You should have told me. Imagine if it was the other way around." Evan said seriously.

"Would it have changed your mind?" she asked.

Evan stayed silent, his eyes moved from her face, looking down at his shoes as he kicked a pebble to the side before he sighed, his hands gripping her puffy cheeks to wipe her tears away. “I feel so stupid.” she whispered. "And selfish... truly my age huh."

'Shhh" he hushed, “you’re not stupid y/n.” he chuckled lightly causing her to blush beneath his soft hands. 

She smiled lightly, rolling onto her tip toes as she felt him lean down and sprawl his lips against hers. They simultaneously moaned into the kiss as Evan deepened the kiss, licking her bottom lip to ask for entrance.

Y/n happily obliged and smiled causing their teeth to clash- his tongue finding hers, feeling like the first time they’d ever greeted one another. 

Evan’s hands slid down her shoulders to grip her sides and squeeze her curves causing y/n’s head to fall sideways while he sponged his lips against her now burning skin.

The taste of lingering wine made them both hum lowly before he brought his hand behind her back and yank her against his chest, laughter pooling around them as he rested his forehead against her forehead. 

“I think this calls for a truce?” 

Evan bit back a laugh and nodded, interwinding their fingers before pulling her towards the pathway back to the hotel.

“You know, I’m nervous that I’m your first boyfriend.” he said bringing y/n to snort out- squeezing his hand as they began walking, “Let’s make me your only.”

#evan peters fluff #Evan Peters angst #Evan Peters x you #Evan Peters x reader #Evan Peters x y/n #Evan Peters blurb #Evan Peters masterlist #Evan Peters moodboard #Evan Peters ahs #ahs evan peters #jimmy darling #kai anderson #mr march #mr gallant #tate langdon #kit walker #kyle spencer #austin sommers #james patrick march

[azsazz]

Summer Daze

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: heyy i’m the anon who asked for dad!az fics and i had an idea… what abt a fic where az spends the day with the kids like he has a day off and just goes around velaris with reader and his fam… 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,372

Note: so not quite Velaris with the fam but still cute af

_________________________________________

You remember being in this exact spot with Azriel years ago. 

After your mating ceremony you had gotten away from the chilly winters of Velaris and into Summer, tucked under your mate’s wing on the plush lounge on the beach. The setting sun casting its lovely pinks and creamy oranges across his tan skin.

You’d never seen him so at ease, shadows out of sight and wings hanging low, brushing against the soft sand of the Summer beaches as you curled further into his embrace, his thumb stroking across your sun kissed skin though he had told you to put more sun protecting salve on. 

He’d thrown you over his shoulder and you had squealed as he ran into the night chilled water once the sun had gone to rest and that familiar night sky appeared, stars blinking awake. This was everything you had been waiting for your entire life, lovingly wrapping your arms around Azriel’s neck, cheeks hurting from smiling so hard. His hands slipped around your waist, holding you against him and staring down at you with sparkling eyes, pressing his forehead against your own.

“This is by far the best decision we’ve ever made, my sweet,” he whispers, kissing you passionately for a moment. Your hands wind their way into his salty hair, tangled from the ocean. The bond between the two of you glows golden and warm like the sun had set within you.

You hum in agreement, resting your head against his chest, looking out across the serene waters, the moon just making its appearance over the horizon. His heart is a steady beat beneath your ear, strong and comforting as it had always been.

“And someday, we can bring our children here, to experience Summer like we have.” Your heart swells and you hold him tighter in your arms, twisting so your chin is on his chest as you blink back the happy tears in your eyes.

“Yes Az, I want that with you so badly I can hardly wait,” you admit, and he smirks suggestively at you, his light.

“Who says we have to wait?”

__________

You can’t help but to smile, remembering the first time you’d been here.

You relax beneath the shady pergola on a lounge fit to fill your entire family, Jax settled and sleeping against your chest while you read, the shrieks of joy from your children and their cousins as Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys toss them up into the air above the water.

Nesta, next to you, admires her own mate, failing to hide her smile behind her fruity drink.

“One of these days Nes, you ought to have another,” you comment softly, watching how Cassian cradles your daughter just a little closer to his chest as he dips the both of them down into the water. You can hear the squeal of surprise at the cool water, then giggle as she splashes her tiny hands around.

He’d been hinting at having another for a while now, and always had Zuzu in his arms when she was around. It was so painfully clear that he wanted a daughter of his own.

“One of these days,” she agrees, flipping the page of her own book with indifference. You’ve been around the oldest Archeron sister now to know, can hear the mirth beneath her bored tone, the idea sparking in her mind.

Your heart swoops and you clutch your youngest tighter to your chest, jolting the small child as you straighten, watching Wren and his cousins – who had just learned to fly – getting as high in the air as they can, then tucking their wings in tight and freefalling into the ocean below.

You pass a whiny Jax into the arms of Feyre, who is on your other side, sunbathing, as you scramble up from the daybed, taking a few steps towards the rest of your family, “Not too high!”

Azriel’s head perks up at your voice, Baz sitting on his shoulders, his father and his own little shadows splash in the water around them. Your mates’ halt at the worry in your tone, immediately looking for danger, and you can hear him warning his son to be careful before he’s taking Baz off of his shoulders and tucking him against a hip, retreating from the water and jogging over to where you’ve settled back in on the lounge, Jax content in his aunts arms.

You can’t help but admire him as he comes to console you, your second son laughing as he bounces against his hip. His skin is glowing under the bright sky and he looks every bit as relaxed as he did all those years ago, happier now that he has his children, mate, and family near.

He places Baz down on the cushion and he immediately scrambles away for a refreshment of his own, Elain helping him drink from the straw of the coconut, Lucien’s chin hooked around her shoulder and beaming down at your son. Rhysand was always one to go all out when it came to important events, and this was no different. You were all staying in the most lavish of houses Adriata had, backing right up to the ocean with enough rooms inside for you all to have two.

Nesta and Feyre groan playfully as your mate climbs up on the lounge, immediately standing and retreating towards the water where the rest of your family is. The shadowsinger stops, kneeling between your legs, an easy smile on his lips. Hands planted on either side of your hips he kisses your swelling belly, not quite showing, the next babe inside.

He then moves to your lips, pecking you lightly and staring down at you, sprawling out into Nesta’s abandoned spot beside you, head propped up on his fist, other hand caressing your stomach lovingly.

“They’re just having a bit of fun, Love,” he says softly, and you give him a knowing look, “Just like we did when we were young.”

“Not all of us had wild childhoods,” you tut, brushing back his hair from his face as he rolls his eyes. You are utterly in love with him, and admire how much he’s grown since you’ve known him. How he’d come out of his shell over the years, finally finding his place within the Inner Circle. His shadows didn’t hide him as much, and though he was still quiet and sneaky, Azriel had really opened up over time.

“I’ve known you to get a bit wild, (Y/N),” he muses, tone suggestive.

You laugh, fingers dipping down from his hair to play with the shell of his ear instead, hazel eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“I love you Az,” you sigh, closing your eyes and letting the sun beam down on your face.

He takes your hand, kissing up the inside of your wrist, “I love you too, my sweet.”

Baz takes the chance at a peaceful moment to jump on his fathers back, wrapping his little arms tightly around his neck, giggling with pure happiness. 

“Daddy, sand,” your son cheers as Azriel wrestles with his son playfully, all while being mindful of where you lie.

“Okay buddy,” he agrees, “Give mommy a kiss first.”

Your son climbs off of Azriels chest and over to you, your mate keeping an arm around him in case he tries to jump on you, the little rascal. He presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek and you hug him close for a moment, breathing in deep. He smells like coconut and the strong sunblock salve and he sighs against you and you know he’s torn between wanting to stay with you and take a nap or go back and build sandcastles with his father.

He opts for playing in the sand again, and you watch as his father chases after him, screeching with laughter. You look at all of your family, smiling to yourself, knowing that the kids will be out like lights as soon as you get them cleaned up, a long day of playing under the sun with their family.

You couldn’t ask for anything better. This is the dream, and you rub your belly. You can’t wait to welcome the little one into this big, happy, family.

#Azriel #AZ #azriel x reader #dad!azriel #azsazz #azriel/reader #azriel x you #acotar #acomar #acowar #acomaf #acotarxreader #fluff #az fluff #inner circle

[clericofshadows]

lotsb snippet

I've gotten very close to the point where Regis and the gang™ (including T'Soni) make it to the Broker's ship, but I fell in love with this bit and decided to show it off.

Zaeed gave him a look and held out his omnitool.  “Remember that goddamn promise we made?” Regis winced.  Of course he does.  They promised to keep him updated.   “Call him,” he said, pointedly.  “I’m going to bother T’Soni.” He squeezed his shoulder as he stood up, and Regis didn’t protest as he walked out of his cabin.

With a breath, he opened his omnitool and scrolled to their server connection, opening up a private link and sending it through, getting up to link to his vid screen at his side desk.  Glancing at the time and doing a quick conversion… it would be afternoon on Arcturus.   A moment passed, and the link opened, Kaidan’s face appearing on the screen with a smile.  It quickly disappeared as he took in Regis’s appearance.  “What’s gotten you all geared up and ready to go?  What’s wrong?  Don’t tell me it’s already time…” Regis shook his head.  “Not yet.  Still have a few dossiers to work through.” “Then what has gotten you so on edge?” “Hackett messaged me.  Wren’s surveillance got us something good.  T’Soni’s been hunting the Shadow Broker ever since she stole my body out from under him,” he began. Kaidan leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, rubbing his temples.  “Utter insanity.  Although… I can’t help but be thankful you didn’t end up in his clutches.” Regis had conceded to that point long ago.  “Honestly, this whole situation isn’t something I like thinking about, but in some ways, she did me a favor.  A fucking terrible one.   But get this.  We went to her apartment, and you want to know what was displayed in her home?” Already, venom and disgust had made themselves known. “With the way you sound, I don’t think I want to know.” His eyebrows were furrowed.  Leaning in back up closer to the vidscreen, he clasped his hands together, holding them tightly, preparing for bad news. “My goddamn armor and scarf.  The chestplate,” he spat, feeling the dark energy crackle underneath his skin, spurred on by his anger.   Kaidan shook his head, turning away.  “I read every bit of that report you sent me.  All of those hundreds of pages, pouring through every detail of their meticulous recount of everything they did to bring you back.”  Regis couldn’t help but close his eyes at that, thinking of his sleepless nights spent pouring over those words. Those terrifying words. “And I noticed their initial report on the state of your body.  Some armor intact.  No chestplate.” He almost sounded clinical.  “Focusing on all the oddities.  Hell, I called Vikram, and we both were stuck on that one goddamn point.” Regis remembered the call they had with Kaidan not long after he initially found out T’Soni gave him away to Cerberus.  Post-orgasmic bliss with Zaeed turned sour because they knew they had to update him on what they learned, about what a former member of the SR-1 did to him. Kaidan was stuck on the chestplate then.   He swallowed visibly, almost looking a little pale.  Concerned, Regis almost stopped and interrupted him, but he had to hear what Kaidan was going to say.  Even if it was hard on him, on both of them. “I know you want your ring back and your dog tags back.  So, all points to her.  If she’s the one that kept them… Ruin her, Regis, not just for yourself and your career, but for what she stole from you and us."  His voice was carefully still, carefully low, but his eyes burned blue. “You can count on that.” Regis clenched his fist.  “Wren has plans that might work out well for the Alliance.” “I wasn’t worried.  That tattoo on the front of your neck is proof enough.  What was that quote you found about Labolas when figuring out how to say ‘Fuck you’ to regs after Torfan…”  The demon on his neck. Regis touched his neck, tracing down with his gloved hand.  “I’m paraphrasing, but: A merciless butcher… once it has sunk its teeth into an enemy, it will not let go until their last breath.” A rueful smile appeared on his face.  “And that’s how I know you will get your due.  Good luck, and please be careful… and whatever Wren is planning, I don’t want to hear about it until it succeeds.  I love you, and give Zaeed all my love.” “I love you, too.  We will be safe.” Regis kissed his fingertips and brought them to the vidscreen, resting them against Kaidan’s face.

#regis shepard #cleric's wip

[thatlovinfeelin]

Flightless Bird | nineteen | Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Synopsis: Josephine Wilson Miller is alone for the first time in her life. She got married after her first year of college and became a housewife, but that life is gone now. So she runs to San Diego, to her childhood best friend Jake, where she meets the man who could very well be her salvation.

series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, just pregnancy in general, talks of infertility. past mental and emotional abuse. anxiety. talks of women's reproductive systems (idk) SMUT (minors do not interact)

A/N: whoops my finger slipped. I hate writing smut so be kind

“Bedroom,” Jose whined out, clutching Bradley close. 

He grunted in response before picking her up as if she was nothing. It was a fury of lips and teeth and moans. All things Jose never expected to experience again, let alone with Bradley.

He dropped her on the bed before pulling his shirt off and kicking away his pants. Jose got to work ridding herself of her own shirt and old worn out sweatpants. Her chest was heaving, no man has seen her naked since long before Wren was born. She knew her body was different now. Marred with stretchmarks. But Bradley was looking at her as if she was beautiful, like she didn’t have a thing to worry about. 

“I don’t have any condoms,” Jose admitted, “Haven’t really needed them.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Bradley was breathless as he looked down at her. 

“I don’t need one,” Jose explained, “It would take another miracle for me to get pregnant again. I don’t have many eggs left, and I hardly ovulate now…and I’m clean.”

He let out a deep breath and climbed onto the bed, “We should talk,” He said, kissing down her neck, “God, we should talk, but I’m not sure if I remember now to right now.”

She grabbed his face to pull him back up to her, “Then don’t talk. Just get inside me.”

He groaned and kissed her deeply. If he wasn’t hard before, which he undoubtedly was, he was hard now. Jose could feel his hard length pressed against her thigh, causing her to whimper. She hadn’t had sex with anyone since, most likely, the night that Wren was conceived. 

“Baby girl,” He groaned, “I need to get you ready for me first.”

“I’m dripping,” She admitted, with no sense of embarrassment, “I can feel it. Just please, Bradley…please I need you.”

She didn’t have time to process before he was pulling her panties down. He cursed under his breath because she was right, she was nearly dripping. It made his mouth water. He wanted almost nothing more than to have a taste. But he wanted to be inside of her even more. He needed to feel her wrapped around him, sucking him in deeper. 

“Please,” She whined again, reaching for him, “Please, please, pleassee.”

“Fuck okay,” He grunted, “I got you. I got you, baby girl.”

His boxers were off in an instant, revealing his hard cock. Jose wondered if this was what heaven was like. She reached for him, taking his thick length in her hand. They both moaned out the second she started working him over. Jose felt like she was on fire and the only thing that could help her was him. She craved him more than she’d ever craved anything in her entire life. 

“I’m going to cum if you keep doing that,” Bradley said through his teeth. 

She let him go and pulled him down to kiss her. 

Bradley took himself in his hand and lined up to Jose’s entrance, “Relax for me baby. I got you, just relax.”

Her breath hitched as he started to push in. He was so large, larger than she’d ever taken before. He put everyone else to shame. She clawed at his shoulders, trying to ground herself. She felt like she could just float away already. 

“Fuck,” Bradley moaned out, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“More…I need more,” She cried out, trying to pull him closer to her. 

He grunted again before bottoming out. He dropped most of his weight down on her, seeming to understand that she needed all of him as close to her as possible. He felt that need too, the need to be closer, as close as two people could possibly be. 

She didn’t last long when he started to slowly trust in and out of her, especially not once his hand found its way to her clit. She was a moaning mess. He was right behind her, unable to control himself any longer. 

An hour later, they were still naked curled up next to one another in her bed. Bradley was drawing shapes on her bare back as she laid on his chest, happy and content. Jose had so many questions though, starting with why he came over tonight, but she was scared to ask them. 

“Do you have pictures of her?” He suddenly asked, “Of Wren growing up?”

“You’re asking if I have pictures of my only child?” She couldn't help but laugh. 

He laughed a little too, “Yeah, I guess I am?”

She hopped out of the bed, not worrying about the fact that she had no clothes on, and reached into a drawer in her dresser. She smiled as she flopped back onto the bed and covered back up, snuggling in next to him. 

“This has all of the pictures I have printed of her,” She explained, flipping the album open to the first page. 

Bradley was met with the sight of a familiar looking baby, so small and fragile looking. SHe seemed to get bigger and bigger everytime Jose flipped a page. Until there was a picture of her standing on her own two feet, dressed in a little bomber jacket. 

“That was the day she took her first steps,” Jose told him, “I was so scared she was going to fall and hurt herself.”

“Did she?” 

“Two black eyes by the time she was two,” Jose laughed, “One on my watch and one on Jake’s.”

She flipped another page to show Wren’s first birthday. She was surrounded by her little family, Jake, Nat, Mav, Penny, and Jose. It made Bradley’s heart clench. He should’ve been there for it, for all of it. 

“Why did you do it?” He asked her. 

Jose didn’t need to ask what he meant, she already knew. Why did she push him away? Why did she force him to leave? She wished she could explain it to him easier. Jose wished there was a way she could. 

“Because I knew it was what was best for you,” she replied, “I only ever wanted the best thing for you.”

“So you said all of those things even though you didn’t mean them, just so I would leave?” He questioned. 

“You wouldn’t have taken the posting otherwise. And you would’ve started to regret Wren and I and I couldn’t have that. I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed.”

“I almost did,” He shrugged, “I almost stayed. But even though I knew you were lying I couldn’t bring myself to call you on it. Just because there was a small chance you meant it all.”

“I would’ve broken down if you called me out,” She told him carefully, “It hurt so bad. But I just kept thinking that I had to do this for you. That you needed to go, because it would be the best thing for you.”

He hummed and kissed the top of her head, “But I’m here now.”

She swallowed, “How long are you here for?” She was afraid of the answer. 

“We fly out tomorrow afternoon.”

“And then it’s back to Pensacola?” 

“Yeah.”

“Right,” She closed her photo album and got out of the bed, reaching for her robe. 

“Jo-”

“Just a one night thing? Right? Scratching an itch? Is that all this was?” She whirled around. 

Bradley sat up, reaching for her frantically, “Baby no. No no no. That’s not what this was. When I saw you today, fuck I don’t know. Something broke loose inside of me. Or maybe something finally clicked into place, I don’t know. But I realized I never should have left you in the first place.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, Jose, I’m not. You know I don’t mess around. I don’t beat around the bush when it comes to you,” He argued, “You’ve been it for me from the second I saw you. So if that means trying to figure out a long distance relationship until I can get restationed back here in North Island, so be it. Because I let you go once, and I’m not going to do that again, I won’t do it.”

“You’re leaving,” She stated, “How am I supposed to do this? I don’t know how to do a long distance relationship when you’re in the air all of the time.”

He gently grabbed her face, “Baby, I’m telling you I’m going to come home. I’m tired of flying for the Angels, I want to come back to North Island. I want to come back home to you.”

“You can’t promise that’ll happen.”

“They’ll let me go wherever I want. I’m the best of the best, remember?” He half joked, “I choose you. Do you hear me? I choose you.”

There were tears in her eyes as she rested her forehead against his, “I choose you too.”

“We can make it work,” He swore, “I know we can. We made it through you being pregnant, we can make it through this. I know we can.”

She kissed him again, as deeply as she could. Tears dripped down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. Because for the time being she had Bradley. He was hers again. Something she thought she would never have again. She never thought she would be able to hold him or kiss him, or finally have sex with him. She didn’t think she would be able to feel this close to him again. Yet here they were, against all odds. 

“I love you,” He whispered to her, stroking her cheek. 

“I love you, too.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #Bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster Bradshaw smut

[asirenscream]

TIMING: current LOCATION: an alleyway on amity road. PARTIES: @asirenscream & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: wren stakes her claim on a dumpster and subjects emilio to her crying. CONTENT: mentions of past child death.

Wren knew that class was supposed to be important. While she had signed up for classes and tried not to stumble over her own attempts to blend in, that was made abundantly clear. Yet, Wren definitely hadn’t gone yet. Poppy had left her a bright pink backpack and whatever supplies she would need to get by as a ‘normal human girl’, but the concept of sitting around with a bunch of humans made her entire body break out into a cold sweat. It was still surreal that she was surrounded by humans when all of her life had been spent only around other sirens. Pretending to be human was already becoming rather taxing. She’d much rather be around the seagulls she had befriended already.

Blending in on Amity Road was easy enough with how many people were around, but that in itself had a wave of anxiety crashing down onto Wren violently. It took one person bumping into her to cause her to flock to the nearest alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster to regain some air into her lungs. She swallowed thickly, having taken off her backpack in favor of clutching it to her chest tightly. Not that there was much in it to begin with. There were a few things she had pawed out of the dumpsters she had dug through prior, but that wasn’t much. 

The plan to hide away didn’t last. Wren all but startled out of her own skin when a man seemed to have a similar plan to her in hiding behind a dumpster. Her brown eyes widened, staring up at him with her lips parted. What do you even say to a human in a situation like this? Act cool. She had to be calm. 

“What are you doing?!” Instead, Wren’s voice came out shrill and high pitched as her body shook. “I mean—this is my dumpster.” That didn’t sound good either. “Uh—um—” Wren was floundering and full of utter fear. What was she supposed to do?

—

A lot of P.I. work, as it turned out, was waiting. Waiting, watching, and being in the right place at the right time. Emilio was good at… some parts of it. The watching, he could handle. He spent a lot of his youth watching, after all, keeping tabs on the people around him in ways that ranged from picking out the weaknesses in his fellow ‘campers’ while training to noting what his siblings did wrong so as not to repeat their mistakes. Being in the right place at the right time was largely luck, but you could swing it if you knew what you were doing. Who to follow where, what to say and when… those were all things Emilio could handle.

It was the waiting that tended to give him trouble. And that was bad. He knew it was bad. So much of private investigation came with just waiting for something to happen, and Emilio’s inability to sit still for long periods of time had always been one of his greatest weaknesses. He liked to move, liked action. Often, this made his cases go… less smoothly than they otherwise might have. 

That was certainly the case today. It wasn’t a particularly unexpected outcome. The case had started as a simple attempt to prove infidelity to help a woman divorce her husband a little easier, but it had become clear very quickly that her husband wasn’t quite as clean cut as she’d claimed. While Emilio hadn’t yet gotten proof of the man’s infidelity, the photos he’d captured of the guy’s various illegal activities was sure to help his client’s case a little. 

Unless he was spotted photographing those illegal activities. In which case, he’d probably end up a little more stabbed than he’d like to be. 

The man turned his way just as his camera went off, and Emilio quickly ducked into an alley. He heard feet pounding the ground as they rushed towards him, so he made what he believed to be the smartest move available to him — he ducked behind the dumpster. It would have been a far better idea if he were the only one to have it.

There was a kid there. Tucked between the dumpster and the wall of the alley, staring at him with wide eyes. Emilio blinked at her, eyes wild. She spoke, and it was loud and shrill, and he shushed her quickly. “This is my dumpster,” he argued in a whisper. He had no real claim to the dumpster, but he needed it right now. “What are you doing? Somebody after you?” He glanced towards the mouth of the alley again, tense.

—

Wren immediately shrunk further back against the wall abruptly. Her mouth snapped shut and she bit hard into the meat of her bottom lip. She knew if she didn’t then it’d instantly start trembling. The picture books she read growing up never really said anything about humans being scary. Most of them blended together in the mix of sirens and how eating the hearts of humans came to be. A wariness and deep anxiety often plagued her when she would read the books as a kid. Poppy teased Wren for it endlessly when she’d snap the book shut and refuse to read it anymore. She couldn’t even imagine sinking her teeth into this man’s heart when all she wanted to do was run away as soon as possible

“Your dumpster…?” Wren finally managed, voice coming out in a tentative whisper. She didn’t know people owned dumpsters. Maybe he owned a lot of trash. There was some human saying about a man’s trash being treasure so that made sense for sure. “Sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know. They don’t tell you—they don’t say when h—people own dumpsters.” Like houses and cars and other possessions. She had a list she was compiling with the one that Poppy left her with some pointers. Dumpsters would have to go on the list next then. Don’t take someone’s bag and definitely don’t take their dumpster it seemed. If Wren could shrink down any further without rousing the man’s suspicions at her adjusted height then she absolutely would. Having someone’s attention on her like this was making her shake, fingers twisting up in the straps of the backpack to grab onto something—anything. What kind of normal explanation could one give at hiding in an alleyway because she had been seconds away from an utter meltdown. 

“I like alleyways. Cozy.” The words were blurted out without a second guess. Wren grimaced a moment after. She didn’t think that was a very reasonable explanation. “I… needed to, you know, scope it out. Find my own dumpster. I strive to be a dumpster owner like you one day. Own lots of trash and stuff. Who doesn’t want to own trash, huh? A man’s trash is treasure like they all say!” Her rushed, whispered words tapered off with a nervous yet quiet laugh. Smooth. She totally was able to save that one.

—

The kid shrunk back and, immediately, Emilio felt a rush of guilt wash over him. Christ, she was jumpy, wasn’t she? Making herself smaller against the dumpster, shying away from his voice even in its whispered state… She struck him as a kid without much of an idea as to what went on in the world. He wondered if she was alone here, if she had someone watching her back. It seemed a ridiculous notion. If she had someone watching her back, would she have been cowering behind a dumpster? 

Craning his neck slightly, Emilio glanced back into the street. His client’s husband was still circling, still searching, which meant he’d have to stay camped out here if he wanted to avoid revealing himself. Absently, he weighed the pros and cons of it. He didn’t mind a fight, felt a little excited by the idea of one, but… Any revelation that the man’s wife had hired an investigator to follow him around would put her in danger. Emilio couldn’t risk that. Not for something as small as ducking out of a situation to try to make a kid he didn’t know a little less on guard. 

Sighing, he settled into a seated position, bad knee already protesting the short stint of squatting in the alley. The kid took his claim to the dumpster seriously, and Emilio felt another stab of guilt at that. Fucking kids. If she’d been a few years older, he wouldn’t have cared whether or not he upset her. But he thought of Nora, of Wynne, of Flora. If anyone found one of them in an alley like this and made them look the way this kid looked now, he’d have been pissed. 

“Sorry,” he said quietly, looking forward instead of at her. He thought it might help, thought that being the center of a stranger’s attention might have been part of what spooked her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not really my dumpster, I’m just… an asshole, I guess.” As if guessing was necessary. “Think the city owns them or something, I don’t fuc — I don’t know.” 

He bit his tongue, trying to figure out how to proceed. He wanted to do half a million things — to leave, to stay, to ask if she needed help, to avoid any situation that might require him giving it to her — but he couldn’t settle on one. Absently, he glanced to the front of the alley again, but there was no change. He was here until he could leave, and he couldn’t leave yet. Something told him she didn’t have much of an intention of leaving, either.

“You’re not… sleeping here, are you? In the alley.” Calling it cozy seemed like a red flag. He let his head rest against the cold metal of the dumpster, making a face. “Hell, if you want to own trash, I can get you some trash. Might want to… aim higher, though.” There was something about the way she spoke. Unfamiliar, uncertain. Like she wasn’t quite aware of how things worked. It didn’t take a detective or a hunter to come up with theories about that kind of thing, did it? “You… not from around here?”

—

The man’s head turned away from Wren as he sat in the alleyway near her. Part of her relaxed at no longer being the subject of his direct attention. The other part of her was still seemingly on high alert. It was hard to not want to dissolve into tears or take off in the other direction. He surprised her in the apology that came next. Brown eyes blinked owlishly a few times while Wren processed that. 

Oh. So not a dumpster owner then. Was this something that Wren was supposed to be aware of? People don’t own dumpsters? This was more confusing than she thought it would be—fitting in. It’s not like she did that much in the colony to begin with. “Oh. I see. That’s… that’s okay. Do you not own trash then?” Was that even important? Wren couldn’t help her mild curiosity, even if she cringed at herself a moment later. 

“I don’t—no! I live in a house!” Wren fumbled over her words in her haste to reassure the man. Even if she had considered living in the woods where the birds stayed or on the beach with the seagulls she figured that’d be frowned upon as a human. Besides, it was a gift from Poppy—or that was how she framed it in her offer. Take care of it while she was gone and maybe it’d get this mission from her parents over with faster. “I find lots of nice things in the trash, though. People throw stuff away that still has heart to it. I think there’s some stuff that deserves a second chance before being deemed useless.” Wren remarked softly. 

“No,” Wren shook her head immediately. Her fingers absently played with the ends of her long hair that were a bright, fiery red. It reminded her of her feathers. She hadn’t flown since getting here. She was too scared to. It didn’t help that it seemed like no one was flying now with whatever was going on in the sky. Even without that she probably wouldn’t. Too dangerous. Too close to any humans who could see her. Poppy tried to tell her that the humans would be more scared of her than she should be of them, but Wren had a feeling that’s just what made them so dangerous at times. “I live… lived near the ocean. Far away.” Vague, but it would do. “I’m here by myself now.”

—

He was probably just about the worst person for this kind of thing. Emilio’s understanding of the world was one colored by the violence he’d been raised in. He knew more about how to kill things than he knew about how to talk to them, and while he had raised a child, Flora had been so much younger than this kid when she’d died. She would have learned about things like dumpsters and trash organically, years before seeing one for the first time. But… she probably still would have looked at him with wide eyes all the same, and something in him ached at the thought. He didn’t have time for this. He never had time for this. But he was here anyway, repeating history over and over and over again.

Blowing a puff of air through his nose, he cracked a little smile at her question. Do you not own trash? “Depends on who you ask.” According to a lot of people, half the shit he owned qualified as trash, from the ratty clothes he’d gotten without paying for to the sofa he’d found beside a dumpster not unlike this one. Emilio liked to think there was nothing wrong with any of the things he owned, but the popular consensus went against him there.

At least the kid had a house. He knew if she hadn’t, he’d have ended up dragging her back to Teddy’s, and even if they would have accepted her without a second thought, it would have been a whole thing. They’d have made some joke about Emilio and his habit of bringing home strays, and his face would have burned even if he’d have thought it was funny, too. “That’s good. A nice house?” With running water and working lights? She looked clean enough, for someone sitting behind a dumpster, so he figured she was all right. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right about that. People throw out all kinds of shit that’s still got life left in it.” Most of his clothes came from dumpsters, too. Nothing was ever as useless as people assumed it was. He’d learned that time and time again. And that was good, too. It was lucky for people like him. It meant he wasn’t entirely useless, either.

Near the ocean. A selkie, maybe? Emilio knew less about them than he did other things, but he knew they existed. While most of his knowledge was tied to the undead, he had been married to a ranger for a few years. This kid wasn’t undead, so that narrowed things down a little. She could have been fae — maybe some kind of water nymph? — or she could have been a shifter. Whatever she was, he had doubts that she was human. He didn’t think those doubts were unfounded. “Why are you by yourself?” Concern ebbed in his chest again; he tried to push it away.

—

‘Depends on who you ask.’ That made Wren blink in mild confusion. Though, the more she thought about it she supposed she understood. She often collected random bits that washed up on shore rather than trying to trade. While the other sirens around her age in her colony wouldn’t tease her to her face it often resulted in snickers behind her back and whispered remarks she ignored. Maybe this man too knew how it felt to have people question why you found value in certain items. “I bet your things are nice,” she offered after a momentary pause.

What exactly was a nice house? Wren didn’t have much to work off of. This was the first house she had ever lived in or seen. “Um, yes. I think so?” That probably wasn’t very convincing. “It is near the beach. I love the beach.” It reminded her of her real home. The nearby waves were partially able to calm any waves of anxiety, but it was still hard to sleep. “The bed is super squishy. I don’t know how people can sleep like that, though. I feel like I’m going to like—” She waved her hands absently, slowly pushing them in a downward motion, “—fall right through it.” Poppy was always better at adjusting to change than Wren was. Most sirens in the colony were better at it, even. 

The question made Wren inhale sharply. Her bottom lip trembled faintly. This was the second time she had burst into tears in front of a stranger. At least she could call Van a… friend? Is that what they were? She was still struggling to navigate the ins and outs of human culture and how to even function without her support system. Many anxiety attacks had been had. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears were hot with her embarrassed blush. Wren’s hand rubbed at her cheek as she glanced away to try to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t that successful, one managed to escape and trail down her cheek before she could brush it away. 

“Um—my… parents.” There was an audible shake to Wren’s voice that even she couldn’t ignore. “They made me come here by myself. Said it would be better for me or something. I don’t have anyone here. Just me.” 

—

He was a little surprised by the compliment. He got more now than he used to — perks of having a handful of people in town who didn’t want him dead, even if he didn’t quite understand their reasoning — but not usually about the things he owned, and not typically from strangers. “Appreciate it,” he said cautiously. If she were fae, the compliment could be a trap. He’d been warned that some of them did that, tricked you into thanking them so that they could wrap you up in a bind. But… the kid didn’t strike him as malicious. And that was saying something — most things struck Emilio as malicious, after all.

At least it sounded like the house she was staying in was an actual house, with a bed. He huffed a little laugh at her statement that it was too soft, nodding in quiet agreement. He often had the same problem with his mattress at Teddy’s. He was more used to the one he’d slept on in his shitty apartment in Worm Row, hard and dirty. It made it difficult to drift off, sometimes, made him feel like he was sleeping on something that would toss him off the moment he let his guard down. Maybe this kid had grown up in the woods — nymph was feeling more and more likely. It’d make sense. “I get that,” he said belatedly. “The… soft bed. Mine is too soft, too. I sleep on the floor, sometimes. It helps.” It didn’t help the ache in his bones or the way his leg often felt like more pain than limb, but it was something, at least.

Her bottom lip trembled, eyes turning watery, and Emilio was struck by a memory of Flora at just a few months old protesting the loss of his finger resting in the palm of her tiny hand. Her expression had looked similar to this before a meltdown, though those meltdowns became fewer and farther between as she got older. Hunters, after all, couldn’t afford tantrums or terrible twos. His chest ached at the thought, and he looked away from the kid in front of him so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of the one he’d lost. 

“They kicked you out?” It was a quiet murmur, though he couldn’t quite mask the surprise in his voice. The idea of throwing your child out on the street to fend for themself wasn’t one that made much sense to Emilio. Even his mother, who’d never particularly liked him, had wanted him close. To let him go would be to risk him bringing shame to the family name, and that wasn’t a thing she could stand to imagine. She’d rather see him dead than out on his own, and he wondered if that was kinder. He was bothered by the fact that he couldn’t quite decide. “Hey, you — It’s okay. Yeah. It’s — There’s people here who’ll help you. All right? Don’t…” He waved a hand uncertainly. He didn’t want her to cry or anything. He didn’t know how to deal with it. “Look, what’s your name? I’m Emilio.”

—

At least Wren wasn’t alone in not being used to human beds. Was this man human or something else entirely? She figured she would be better at this, but then again, she spent her whole life around sirens only. There wasn’t exactly any advice any of them have given to spot other creatures and humans. She was sort of flying blind here. (The thought made her fight a smile at her own internal joke.) “Oh. Maybe I should try that.” She said, thoughtfully. She had spent a night or two on the beach. Tucked away where no one would see her, she slept on the sand and it was the most restful sleep she had since coming to Wicked’s Rest. It reminded her of home. 

Kicked out. That was such a… blunt way of putting it. Yet, it was the most accurate. That was what they had done to Wren, after all. Told her that she had to be able to stand on her own two feet and stop being so damn afraid. It wasn’t healthy to be so scared of everything, they had said. They all but kicked her off toward the deep end and hoped she could soar over the crashing waves instead of drowning. Her flying had started to improve with how she had to make the long flight to the town, but with the skyquakes and just plain fear, she hadn’t done much more. Fear ruled Wren’s life. She didn’t know how to not be ruled by just how scared she was every day of everything.

Wren let out a shaky breath and scrubbed at her cheek anxiously to wipe the tear that had escaped away. “Yes. They said it was for the best.” This was mortifying. Where could she run to? They were by a dumpster and she had no quick escape route. It seemed the man didn’t know how to handle her tears. She blinked owlishly as she looked at him, staying quiet as he stumbled over his words. Who would help her? Would strangers just help her out of the kindness of their hearts? Well, she did suppose that was exactly what Van did…

“I’m Wren, like the bird,” Wren said softly. “You really think people would help me? I—I don’t know. I kind of… avoid people.” She gestured vaguely, wiping at her eyes once more to try to keep her waterworks at bay for the time being. “Seems like the best plan as of right now. Pretty scary otherwise.”

—

She seemed to accept his advice, and Emilio nodded. He wasn’t sure if it was good advice or not, but a night of sleep on a hard surface was probably better than no sleep at all, wasn’t it? (He said probably, because he was never quite sure. He slept so rarely, and so fitfully when he managed to do so, that he found it difficult to consider what limited rest he received from it to be worth pursuing at all. Other people thought differently, but it wasn’t exactly rare for Emilio’s methods of self care to be met with arguments by whoever was around to witness them. This kid was… a nice change of pace.)

Something flashed across her face, and Emilio wondered if he should try to be a little more sensitive. It wasn’t exactly his strong suit, though he rarely even tried it with anyone who wasn’t a kid. He tried to treat people this age with gentleness, but… it was difficult, considering the fact that he’d never quite known gentleness himself. He didn’t know how to phrase things in a way that wouldn’t make her flinch. Given how jumpy she seemed to be, he wasn’t even certain it was a possibility at all. 

“For the best,” he repeated flatly, trying not to think of his own mother, of all the things she had done ‘for the best.’ She’d been planning his death ‘for the best.’ That one still stung more than he’d care to admit. “Don’t see how you being on your own is what’s best for anyone.” There was a hint of bitterness to his tone; he tried to combat it, to make it less. He didn’t think insulting the people who’d kicked her out would make her feel much better. 

Wren, like the bird. Was that something to read into, that clarification? Emilio struggled, sometimes, to tell the difference between actual suspicion and his built-in paranoia. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “Yeah, people will help you. Just… You know, not just anybody. Going up to strangers and asking for help, that’s not the way to go.” If she was something other than human, hunters were a concern. Hunters that weren’t Emilio, that was. “I’m… a person.” Even on the days he didn’t feel like one. He was trying to remember that. “I could help you. Maybe. I don’t know. Depends what you need, right? But I know other people, too. People you could trust.”

—

Wren was silently, staring at a spot on the dumpster over Emilio’s shoulder rather than at him directly. His words stung, but not in any way that was hurtful coming from him. It was hurtful to know that someone else was shocked at her parents' decision. The betrayal she felt wasn’t something that was unreasonable. She had felt lost in a haze of utter uncertainty since getting to the town. It ached just that bit more seeing someone being indignant on her behalf. It always seemed to hurt worse when the people you trusted the most were the ones that twisted the knife in your back. 

“Yeah, I didn’t think so either,” Wren finally responded. She picked at a stray thread on the sweater she was wearing. She ran so hot that she didn’t have to wear that heavy of a jacket, but maybe she should. Wren didn’t want to stand out more than she already did. There were so many ins and outs to being human, to coming across normal. Wren definitely was going to need a new notebook at the rate of how much she was filling it up with everything she was learning. 

“Okay… Not just anyone or strangers.” They weren’t strangers anymore, were they? Emilio and Wren, friends! Or… friends in a different sense? Friends that could feel like family. Someone to have your back. Someone that wouldn’t kick her out. Maybe Wren was getting ahead of herself, but Emilio had been so kind to her despite how tentative and fearful she was. Maybe friendship could mean leaning on people despite the terror that always was around the corner in your mind. Wren wasn’t sure, but she was sure that Emilio seemed like someone she could go to for help.

A small smile finally tugged at Wren’s lips. “Thank you… I am a person, too. If you—if you want help! That’s what you do, right? Help people you care for? I can do that, also. I don’t know what I can offer, but it is there. I know lots of bird facts.” She offered. “You were hiding, too? Weren’t you? From something or someone, maybe? I can help! Then, um… in turn, you help me walk down the street?” A small thing, but walking by herself around so many people was making her nauseous with unending anxiety. “I just… need to prove something to myself. I can do it. Maybe asking for help with it isn’t such a bad thing, right?”

—

He’d never been particularly tactful. His mother had had no reason to teach him the ins and outs of interacting with people, and Emilio had had little interest of learning it on his own. He knew how to do the important things — get information from people, get people to warm your bed when you don’t want to think for a little while, get people to buy you a drink or pay you a few bucks — but for the most part? Emilio was pretty clueless when it came to human interaction. This seemed like proof of that. The kid was upset, and Emilio’s words had been the catalyst to that. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, unsure how to proceed.

The nosy, detective part of him wanted to ask questions. Why had her family kicked her out, where were they now, why had she come here of all places? But interrogating her was sure to make her feel worse. Even someone as bad with people as Emilio knew that much. He tried to imagine what Teddy might do, in this situation. Teddy was good with people. Everybody liked Teddy. Teddy would probably give the kid a snack, or a blanket, or kidnap her dog and force her to move in with them. Emilio wasn’t sure he was particularly good at any of those things. So… he just shrugged. Better to say nothing than to say the wrong thing; he’d learned that the hard way.

At least he could teach her something, give her some form of defense in a world she seemed to know next to nothing about. “That’s right,” he confirmed with a nod. “People you know. People you know are safe.” Not that she seemed to know anyone just about now. She didn’t even know Emilio, dumpster conversation be damned. It occurred to him that, had someone else found her and given her this talk instead of him, things could have turned out far worse for her. He thought of Parker, who hurt people for his own selfish gain, of other hunters who hurt people just to hurt them. Was she lucky that it was Emilio who’d come across her, or was he just as bad as the rest? Sometimes, even he wasn’t sure.

“Right, yeah. Helping people is… good.” A lot of bird facts. He let out an amused huff, nodding his head. He had no use for bird facts, but he had a feeling he could set her on Teddy and have the two of them trade facts for hours if he ever needed to distract one or both of them. Her question brought him out of the thought, and he glanced to the mouth of the alley again. “Actually…” His client’s husband would almost definitely take a swing at Emilio if he saw him, but he doubted the guy would make any move against a stranger, let alone a kid. “There’s a guy out there looking for me. If you can distract him for a few minutes and then meet me on the next street over, I’ll walk you home. Sound fair?” It was a small request. It wasn’t dangerous, it genuinely would help him, and… it would help her prove to herself that she could be useful. Emilio, of all people, knew how important that was.

—

The amount of safe people in Wren’s life right now was… well. Practically nonexistent. Van seemed safe. She had been kind to her when Wren all but sobbed at the counter of the pizza restaurant. She showed her kindness. Her friend Wynne seemed nice, too. The few people she had talked to online as well. Did that mean they were safe? It was starting to make her head hurt with how many questions and thoughts swirled around in her head. Things hadn’t been this complicated in the colony. Everyone there was safe. Why would her parents throw her into a world where she had to watch her back at every turn? She already did that without even having a reason to! Now she did have a reason! For now at least, it seemed like Emilio could be that safe person, too. 

Wren practically perked up the moment Emilio actually seemed to consider and accept her offer. She could help! She could do this. The mere thought of having to discuss anything with a stranger made Wren’s stomach churn, but she could do it. Maybe she could just cry at him. That could work. Wren nodded her head, determined now. She was going to prove to herself and to Emilio that she could be of help. Especially since Emilio was kind enough to offer to help her. It wouldn’t be so scary walking around people with someone beside her. “Sounds fair. I can do that!” She reassured him. 

Standing up, Wren slid her backpack straps over her arms and settled them on her shoulders. She gripped at them tightly and sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay, okay. I can do this. I’ll meet you on the next street soon!” She headed out onto the street to find the man in question that was looking for Emilio. She did exactly what she did best: burst into tears on the spot. It kept him fully distracted as she sobbed and stumbled over her words, never actually telling him what was wrong. 

After a few minutes, Wren pulled it together to wave off the man’s concern. She made sure he left—although, clearly completely baffled—before heading off to find Emilio the next street down. She didn’t end up going to class that day, but at least it didn’t end up being a bad thing. 

#para: emilio #para: hiding in plain sight #wickedswriting #mortemoppetere #child death tw