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captainamericasmotercycle · 8 months

Note

Jake would also be a great fit for the prompt I just sent you, I copy-pasted the prompt from my notes app prompts list and forgot to change the name.

part of my 500 follower celebration!!!

Never Letting Go

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader

warnings: smut, MINORS DNI, 18+, angst, fluff, p in v sex, penetration sex, mentions of money, cowgirl/missionary, jake being in LOVE, me knowing nothing about the military

wc: 1.7k

a/n: ok i had so much fun writing this one so i hope you guys like it!!

prompt: you break up with Jake to try and make sure he doesn’t turn down the dagger squad’s permanent stationing in order to stay with you, and Jake is not having any of that and fucks you so well he shows you just how much he loves you and isn’t letting you go?

absolutely DO NOT steal my work and post it on other platforms. DO NOT feed my work to AI fuck that

You and Jake have been together for almost 2 years. You met in your hometown of Dallas, Texas; you worked in an office in Dallas’s CBD and Jake was stationed just outside of Dallas.

The two of you had run into each other at the grocery store, Jake was fairly new to the area, having grown up in Austin, and he looked a little lost, so feeling pity on him, you decided to help him out. After the long - but not grueling - shopping trip, Jake offered to take you out and of course you accepted.

Ever since then you’ve been attached at the hip. Until now.

Only months ago, Jake was called back to Top Gun for a dangerous, top secret mission. And since his team’s performance during the mission was so high, the squad was offered a permanent spot as a special operations team at Top Gun Academy.

When he told you the news you couldn’t help but be ecstatic for him because you know he’s worked so incredibly hard for this.

You dwelled on the pros and cons of moving to California when you realized that you were only holding Jake back, there was no way that he would go without you but you couldn’t just pick up your entire life and move out to San Diego. I mean you have a job and a life here! Not to mention how expensive Cali is! You just didn’t want him to stay because of you.

There was no way in Hell that you would get between him and his job, so you made the toughest decision, probably of your entire life. You have to break up with him.

You made sure everything was ready by the time he got back to your shared apartment. Dinner was made, the space was cleaned, the table was set, and your head was a mess.

He greeted you with the most loving smile as he walked in the door, which only made a pit form in your stomach. How are you supposed to end things with the person you love most in the world?

Halfway through dinner you decided to start, “Jake, about your job,”

“Yeah, isn’t it amazing, baby?”

“It is so amazing and I am so happy for you because you deserve this more than anyone,” you trailed off and he picked up on your tone.

“But you don’t think I should take the offer?”

“No! No, that’s not it. I think you should take the offer. But I also think we should break up,” you whispered the last part into an almost silent room.

Jake dropped his fork immediately and froze, “Excuse me?”

“I think we should break up. I’m holding you back Jake, I don’t want to get in between you and what you love most,”

“Baby, you are what I love most,”

“Jake, please just listen. I love you so much and you know I only want the absolute best for you. And I think this is the best option for you, for us.”

Jake stood abruptly and paced around the small living room. He didn’t say a word.

“Please say something,” you stood closely behind him.

“We’re not breaking up,”

“You have to take this job, it’s everything you’ve been working up to and I am not going to be the one to hold you back and—“ he cut you off sharply with a kiss and mumbled into your mouth.

“I would never leave you,” he nipped at your jawline and the higher parts of your neck.

This could not be happening right now. This was not how this night was supposed to go, but you couldn’t stop a slight moan escaping from your lips. If you were going to leave him, you felt like you deserved one more time with him.

You pushed him away to hold his face. You looked into his eyes, then found his lips, and kissed them roughly, “Please Jake, I need you, one last time,”

That’s all he needed to hear and he had you in his arms, carrying you to your shared bedroom. He tossed you on the bed, practically ripping his shirt off, he hovered above you, taking your shirt and bra off next.

He sucked on your chest, leaving love bites on the very top of your breasts. “I’m going to fuck you stupid until you get this idea of you holding me back out of your head.”

He moved down to your shorts, pulling them off as quickly as possible, taking your underwear with them.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, making his was up to your core.

He removed his mouth and let two of his fingers press inside of you. He kissed up your stomach as he pumped his fingers deep inside of you and relished in the way you were almost incoherently moaning.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he held down your hips as he began to lightly suck on your clit. You couldn’t help but let out a pornographic moan.

You didn’t mean to feel the need to release so quickly but you couldn’t help it. You wanted every part of him and you didn’t want to leave him.

He quickened his pace causing you to scream out with pleasure. He pulled his fingers from you and sucked your juices off his hand.

He unbuckled his belt and yanked down his pants, pulling out his hard length. He teased your entrance with his cock, slapping the surface lightly. You were almost a whimpering mess underneath him.

He finally pushed into, both of you letting out a long noise of satisfaction. Jake murmured curses of pleasure under his breath and his thrusted into you.

He had you on your back, your legs on either side of him. He pulled your legs to wrap around his waist and thrusted into you harder.

Jake was now leaning completely over you, his hand on either sides of your breasts, him kissing down your neck, and his stupidly hot dog tags dangling over you as you practically screamed out for him.

He pulled back from your neck and started kissing down your chest again, loving the way your boobs moved as he fucked you into the mattress.

Your nails dig into his back as he starts thrusting at a faster pace.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good for me,” God he may as well just get you pregnant at this point.

You started to feel a build in your stomach, again. You could tell he was close too because his thrusts started to falter.

He began to pull out to cum, when you tugged him closer to you, keeping him inside. He looked at you with a hunger as you both reached your climax, crying out profanities.

He hung his head low until flipping you over until you were sitting on top of him. He pushed himself up the bed, propping himself up, you still on top.

Holding down your hips, a firm grip on them, you began to bounce up and down on his cock. He finally speaks for the first time, rebounding from the babbling mess you had made of him earlier.

“Baby, I’m not leaving you here,”

You wrapped you arms around his neck for a steadier ride. “Jake-“

“I don’t care, I will turn it down,”

“Absolutely not,” you began to bob faster as you got more flustered, “I want you to go, Jake,”

“I want you to go with me, I thought that was a given,”

“But my job, we can’t afford for only one of us to work,”

He moved his hands up and down your torso, grabbing and squeezing at your tits.

“Yes we can, I have a trust fund, I’ll make sure you never work another day in you entire life. I’ll make you my wife so you can live on base. Or we don’t have to live on base, I’ll buy us a mansion and whatever you want in it.”

There was nothing hotter than seeing the man you love offer to take care of you for the rest of your lives. You want to be with him so bad.

You want every part of him. His highs, his lows, his good days, his awful days, you want it all and everything in between.

Hearing him coax you down from the ledge only made you want him more. Pushing you over the edge of another orgasm. He took you lips with his as you finished for the third time, him for the second.

You pulled away off of him and curled up by his side, resting your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your body and kissed your forehead gently, “I promise I’ll take care of you, baby. Don’t worry about any of this,”

“I want to go with you, Jake, if you’ll have me,”

“I want you more than anything on this entire planet, and don’t you doubt it for a second that I would never leave you,”

You pressed a chaste kiss to his jawline, whispering close to him, “I love you, Jake.”

He looked down at you with gentlest expression you’ve ever seen and kissed you again, “I love you and I’m never letting you go.”

It was time to start a new chapter with the love of your life, (and Jake was right, he did fuck you stupid until you dropped the idea of you burdening him and holding him back).

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #jake seresin #hangman top gun #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #hangman smut #jake hangman x reader

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icequeenbae · 5 months

Note

Hiii I love love LOVE your HEARTSTEEL/Sett x reader fic it was so good 😭

Could I ask for something similar with either Sett, Kayn, or Ezreal (or all 3) with a chubby!reader who is constantly discouraged about their body because of past trauma and the current societal beauty standards and thinks that the boys should go find someone else “in their league”! Thanks!! ❤️❤️

Pairing: Heartsteel!Kayn x chubby!Reader

Established Relationship, light angst if you squint, fluff

Warnings: body insecurity

Word Count: ~0.9k

Author’s Note: Hi, sweetie! Thank you for the request~ Since I already did a similar scenario with Sett and I am already working on another one with Ezreal (coming out soon!!), I chose to go with Kayn in this scenario. I hope you like this one too 💕

You stayed out of the way and minded your own business. It was a little stressful for you to be here, amidst the making of your boyfriend’s first grand music video. You barely knew anyone here, and you didn’t want to disrupt the process by wandering around without permission. Although Kayn did tell you that you were allowed to take a look around while he was busy, you still felt like an intruder.

Soon you found yourself studying the music video shots displayed on the large screens for the filming crew to monitor. You watched from afar and then made an awkward attempt to come closer and peek, afraid of being told off for your nosiness. But no one really paid any attention to you, courtesy of your grey hoodie, you were sure. Most people would think you were some kind of intern on set and likely ask you for coffee or cables... or whatever it was that the interns did.

As you inched closer, you noticed that the girls from the crew were monitoring Kayn’s scene with the rottweiler. You found that dog to be super cute when you saw the dog trainer work with him beforehand. But at this time, you were the only one interested in the four-legged actor. The production staff were all swooning and pining… and drooling over Kayn’s six-pack.

Yes, those just had to be out for the entirety of the video, and, of course, for the whole day on set. If anyone could be confident enough to rock a crop top like this, it was your boyfriend. God, you were embarrassed to even think that it your head… A guy like Kayn laying his eyes on you? No one would ever believe it had you told them. No, not even in the realm of possibilities.

‘Wow, his abs are nasty!’ One of the girls in front of you noted.

‘He is nasty!’ The other one giggled into her fist. ‘Can you imagine how firm they are?’

‘Oh you! His girlfriend must know! Lucky her…’ The third one interjected, and they all sighed.

‘Shit. I cannot even imagine the girl he must be dating. Some chic supermodel, I suppose.’ The first one suggested.

You were right there, almost compelled to nod in agreement. He did look like a guy who’d snatch a real beauty easily. Pretty girls also loved them some bad boys. But somehow there you were, not even close to being considered a supermodel… You weren’t particularly fit underneath those baggy clothes of yours. How on Earth you ended up dating this man, who was completely out of your league, you had no clue. And it wasn’t a pleasant thing to think about. Sometimes you were wondering what he saw in you, if he actually did. Being somewhat sneaky and secretive about your relationship didn’t help your confidence either.

‘Are you just gonna stand there and stare at half-naked men all day?’ Someone yelled from behind, startling all four of you.

You blurted out an apology, caught red-handed, but the culprit, one of the production managers, looked at you in confusion.

‘Y/N? Sorry, I thought you were part of the crew. Why are you here? You can come up the stairs to watch from there.’

‘Oh no, it’s okay. I didn’t want to intrude.’ You refused hastily.

‘It’s fine, Kayn told me to keep an eye on you. Don’t be shy. He’s probably going out of his way with the acrobatics just to impress you anyway!’

Your face started to burn, and you began refuting his claims.

‘Not at all, he just wants to do well for their first big release…’

‘Yeah, I’m sure that’s it,’ the manager winked at you and sniggered at your ablush look. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’

As he dragged you closer to the main filming area, you finally noticed the stares of the crew members you overheard earlier. They were probably quite disappointed from seeing you in real life – no supermodel at all.

However, as soon as you were brought to the area, Kayn was all over you.

‘Y/N! Did you get lost somewhere?’ He gave you a tight squeeze after appearing next to you in a second. ‘I wanted you to watch me doing the stunts…’

‘See? Cares about the big release, my ass.’ The manager grinned next to you.

‘Did you say something?’ Kayn gave him a pointed look, and the man simply raised his hands in surrender, making his way to the cameras. ‘Anyway, I have to go back in a moment, but you stay put and enjoy yourself, okay?’

You nodded shily, and he was on his way.

But then he turned around, walked back and grabbed your face to kiss you. It was quick and unpredictable, and he stayed close to you afterwards, brushing his nose against yours.

‘Okay?’ He repeated in his low voice, making you smile.

‘Okay.’

Finally, Sett made a disgusted noise, yelling from his spot.

‘Get back here and finish your scene, loverboy!’

Kayn’s eye sparked red for a moment, and then he pecked you on the lips one more time.

‘Stay put, baby.’ He turned around to face his impatient bandmate. ‘Care to say that one more time, buddy? I see you want me to tickle those ears of yours again…’

Non-EXO masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Third request down! I hope you liked this little something~ I'm working hard to put those out as soon as I can, so please don't forget to comment and reblog if you want to support me 💜 And check out my masterlist for more HEARTSTEEL and kpop content! 💫

#league of legends #league of legends fanfic #heartsteel #kayn #kayn x reader #shieda kayn #heartsteel kayn #kayn league of legends #lol fics #lol fic #lol fanfic #icequeenbae fics #icequeenbae requests

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catalinas-cure · 10 months

Text

We Gotta Have It Out

Description: Ethan gets wasted and confesses his feelings to Bestfriend!Reader. I copied a lot of things from the Little Women movie (2018)

Author’s note: this is my first time writing a fic and I didn’t check for mistakes before posting so bear with me 🙏. I might write a part two if anyone wants it

Frat parties are bad enough as it is, how could they get any worse? That’s what you thought before your best friend (who had begged, practically cried for you to come with him) ditched you for the cheap alcohol everyone seemed to be offering him. You were so embarrassed that he had talked you into coming to this party, you had even gotten all dressed up. You decided you wouldn’t let all your effort go to waste and walked over to the table of drinks in hopes of finding someone to distract you. You found the perfect target, he was tall, towering over you even in your six inch heels. He was cute enough,“Want a drink?”he asked, two cups in hand. “Yeah, what is it?” you asked taking the cup from him. You were about to chug the entire thing, not caring what it was until you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder “Y/n, you have to help me, he keeps asking for you” said Chad. You already knew what he was talking about, you put your drink down and ran up stairs, looking for Ethan. You stopped in front of the bathroom door, listening to see if you could hear Ethan, and then knocking cause you’re growing impatient. “Y/n…” you push the door open, Ethan is sprawled out in the tub, still wearing his ghostface costume. “What is it, Ethan?” you say, crouching next to the tub to meet his eye level “I need to tell you something” he says, giggling and hiccuping. “I don’t want to talk to you when you’re like this..” you say, holding his hand. “Now sit down” you help him out of the tub, he sits down on the bathroom floor with you. Leaning his head against your shoulder “Can I tell you now…..please?” you scoot away from him “You’re burning up” bringing the back of your hand to his forehead “I’m gonna get you some water, stay here..” You get up and open the door to leave “No….I still need to tell you” he says, putting his hand on your leg to keep you with him. “If I listen, will you let me leave?” already annoyed, you sit on the sink “Maybe…” he says, looking up at you with a stupid look on his face “Okay, don’t fight me on this..” you raise your eyebrow at him “Listen, I know I get on your nerves and everything but I’m your best friend. This is really gonna piss you off….but you have to hear me out” “…Get to the point already, so we can leave” you say, not really paying attention to what Ethan is saying. “I’m getting there, so….we’ve been friends for so long, and you know everything about me, except one thing..” you cut him off “That you’re a pain in the ass?” you say , jokingly. “…Don’t be like that, please, I’m serious.” his all of a sudden urgent tone and yearning gaze make you realize what he wants you to know “No, no. Stop it, Ethan” you get off the sink, not wanting to hear anything he has to say “It’s no use y/n, we gotta have it out. I’ve loved you ever since I’ve known you, I couldn’t help it” he’s tearing up and his voice is cracking at this point “You’re drunk, I don’t believe you.” tears welling in your eye “You have to believe me, I need you to.” he says, begging you to hear him “We can’t, it wouldn’t work. I love you, I can’t let you do this to yourself” he shuts his eyes and tries to catch his breathe “Just say yes, we can figure it out. We love eachother, isn’t that enough?” you get down to your knees and hold his hands “It would be a disaster, you know it” “Why does everyone expect it then, you’re wrong. We would be so happy together” he puts his hand on your tear streaked face “What am I supposed to do with myself? I need you.” it’s your turn to beg now “I’m looking out for you, you meet someone that you actually love and you’ll thank me” he brings both of your heads together, holding you “I can’t love anyone else y/n, I only love you” you bury your head into his neck and bring his shuddering body as close to you as you can “I love you, I love you” Ethan says, kissing your neck, still struggling to breathe after crying so hard. You still hadn’t stopped crying, but somehow you felt the happiest you’ve been in a long time.

Maybe Ethan was right, maybe this could work.

(Writing requests are currently open 🌟)

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x fem!reader #ethan landry x best friend! reader #scream #scream 6 #catalinas-cure #ethan landry smut #ethan landry fic #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry blurb #ethan landry drabble #catalinas cure

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woah-were-halfway-there · 6 months

Note

PLEASE can we get more of Auston in the hospital after being forced out of Carson’s room? 😩 literally anything

omg omg ok so instead of posting screenshots below is a direct copy and paste from my docs hehehe. It's also almost 2k words so not short hahaha enjoy! pls let me know what you think! (maybe I'll get some inspo to finally update AFTR)

Auston was hunched over in the waiting room chair with his hands stressfully gripping his hair as he stared at the grey tile flooring, still processing what he was told about what was happening with Carson. It’d only been 10 minutes since he’d been forced out of the hospital room and only five since Carson’s doula and a nurse got him up to speed, but it felt like a lifetime of hell.

What was he supposed to do? He’d never felt so useless in his life than he did just sitting there waiting to hear if Carson was going to make it. If the blood transfusion was successful and if they did it in time. Auston couldn’t even think about the chance they were too late.

With a deep breath, he sat up then leaned back into the rundown recliner he sat in, still staring at the floor. The room he was in was quiet, instead of a usual waiting room, this one was smaller as it was meant only for family members of patients in the hospital. He was thankful to be the only person in there as he processed everything, but also felt so incredibly alone.

“What am I going to do?” Auston whispered to himself, sighing as he let himself wallow in self-pity for another moment before his phone buzzed in his pocket. It made him jump slightly, seeing as with everything that just happened he hadn’t even thought to check his phone, but since he was stuck waiting, he figured he should.

Auston unlocked his phone to see that it was his mom who texted him saying “Niñita was missing you and Carson, but she’s pretty content watching Bluey with the next best thing.” The message itself was enough for Auston to let himself relax. He knew it was about Mia seeing as the message contained the nickname that only his mom called her and that was enough to ground him a bit. However, for the first time in what felt like forever, even though it’d only actually been just over 10 minutes, Auston smiled when his phone buzzed again as it received a picture.

In the photo, Mia was cuddled up right against Auston’s dad as they sat on the couch together. Her curls were messy where she leaned against her Pa while she had her arm wrapped against Whaley, who was of course part of their cuddle session. It was so simple. A sight Auston had seen many times before because Mia loved cuddling with her grandparents, but at that moment, seeing such a thing gave him a sense of normalcy. And Auston needed that.

The next thing Auston knew, he was reaching the top of his phone screen with his thumb, pressing his mom's contact so that the option to call her would appear. Once it did, Auston pressed the call button and took a breath. Ema answered almost instantly.

“Is he here?” Ema asked, excitement lacing her voice regarding her new grandchild being born and suddenly Auston’s chest felt heavy again.

“He’s here,” Auston spoke softly. “He’s perfect.”

“Oh, Auston, I’m so proud of you. We can’t wait to come meet him. How are you? How’s Carson?”

Auston took a shaky breath.

“Um, not good, Mom,” his voice cracked as he choked on his words. “Really bad, actually.”

“What do you mean?” Ema questioned, sounding so concerned. “Is Carson ok?”

“No, she, uh, she had a postpartum hemorrhage shortly after Carter was born. She went into shock and was losing a lot of blood so they’re currently doing an emergency blood transfusion but they have no way of knowing if they were too late or if it will be enough. I- I don’t know what to do, Mom. I feel so useless right now, she just has to be ok. I just- I need her. I can’t do this without her.”

Auston was sobbing by that point and could hear how Ema gasped on the other end of the phone. But despite that shock, Auston was sure she felt, it didn’t take long for Ema to respond.

“Hang tight, ok? Me and your dad will be there soon.”

“No, Mom, I don’t think Mia should be here,” Auston explained while sniffling and wiping away his tears. “Not right now while all this is happening. It’d be too much for her. I need her to stay with you guys.”

“Auston, we can’t just let you be alone right now,” Ema tried to reason. “I know your sisters will be fine to watch Mia if you want her to stay home. But I’m not letting you go through this kind of thing by yourself.”

Auston sighed, knowing he could use the support of his parents to lean on.

“Can I talk to her, please?”

“Mia? Of course, one second. I’ll put it on FaceTime so she can see you.”

“Ok,” Auston smiled because he wanted nothing more than to see his little girl. Quickly, he wiped away any stray tears and tried to hide the fact that he’d been crying before he was met with the beep of the phone call ending followed by the buzz of the incoming FaceTime. When he answered, the camera was right on Mia, still cuddled up next to her grandpa and focused on the TV, not realizing who was on the phone. Suddenly, everything felt lighter and less intense for Auston. “Hi, baby girl.”

Mia’s eyes lit right up at the sound of Auston’s voice and was quick to look at the phone and smile when she saw him on the screen.

“Daddy!” Mia greeted excitedly, then let out a yawn. It was nearing her bedtime after all.

“Are you watching your show with Pa?”

“Yeahhhhh.”

“What show?” Auston asked, already knowing the answer, but it didn’t matter.

“Bwuey,” Mia stated as a matter of fact. Despite struggling to pronounce L’s and R’s, Mia always tried her best to say them. It made Auston smile even more.

“Your favourite.”

Mia hummed and nodded in response then looked down and started fiddling with one of Whaley’s fins. “I see Mommy?”

Auston’s heart dropped.

“Mommy can’t come to the phone, baby,” Auston explained, earning himself a questionable glance from his daughter. “She’s, uhm, she’s with the doctor right now.”

“Mommy ‘kay? Comin’ home?”

Auston took a breath to try to keep himself level-headed and heard Ema ready to intervene if needed from where she was holding her phone off camera. But Auston didn’t want Mia upset over anything, so he wanted to handle this.

“She’s going to be okay,” he assured, mainly to convince himself that what he said was true. “Me and Mommy are going to be home real soon, mini. I promise.”

Mia blinked, unconvinced, and her expression showed concern as she furrowed her eyebrows and formed a pout on her lips. “Why sad, dada?”

It wasn’t until then Auston realized he was crying again and how it was worrying Mia. He was quick to wipe the tears away again.

“I’m just having a tough day, sweetheart,” Auston told her honestly and let out another breath. “And I miss you a whole lot. Daddy may be sad, but you make me feel better. I love you so, so much, Mia. And I know your Mommy does too. Don’t you worry about me, ok? But, Daddy has to go, baby. I’ll call you tomorrow but for now, you finish watching Bluey and then I think it’s bedtime. I love you.”

“Love yew, dada.”

After Mia and Auston both blew each other kisses goodbye, Auston could hear his mom asking Alex to sit with Mia while she and his dad talked to Auston privately. He stayed silent while, assumedly, Ema picked up the phone and made her way to the kitchen while still on FaceTime. A moment later, Auston could tell the phone was propped up against something because he was looking at both of his parents while his dad glanced between him and Ema confused.

“What am I missing? Did something happen to Carson?” Brian asked, noticeably trying to keep his voice low so that Mia wouldn’t hear. “And the baby. What is going on?”

Ema then looked at Auston, silently asking him if he wanted to tell his dad or if he wanted her to. Auston didn’t have it in him to go over it all again, he could already feel the tears welling yet again. So, he nodded and Ema knew what that meant. She then told Brian everything Auston had told her.

“Oh, my god,” Brian said once Ema was finished and shook his head in disbelief. “Auston, I’m so sorry. And you haven’t heard anything about Carson’s status?”

“No, it-it hasn’t been that long since it all happened,” Auston explained. “The nurse I was talking to before I came in here said no one will know for at least a couple of hours. It all depends on that blood transfusion if Carson’s body takes it well and if they weren’t too late doing it. Fuck what about her family? I gotta tell them what’s happening. I need to call her dad.”

“I can call Joel, Auston,” Brian replied. “Don’t put too much on yourself right now. This isn’t an easy situation to be in, no one expects you to handle it perfectly. You’re just trying to navigate it all.”

“Thanks, Dad, but, he’s my father-in-law. I think he should hear it from me and that’s ok. I know he, Nate and Mya are going to try to get here as quickly as possible once they know. And Mitch. God, how am I going to tell Mitch?”

Auston inhaled deeply as a way to keep the inevitable feeling of his chest getting heavy again at bay, but it was useless. This was one of the worst things he’d ever experienced.

“We can figure out how to approach this all together,” Ema spoke up. “But, Auston, as your dad said, don’t put too much on yourself. This is a traumatic thing and you need to take care of yourself. Either your dad or I will be there soon, ok? The other will stay here with Mia for the time being and we can rotate. But, Mijo, where’s the baby? You should be with him. Both of you need each other in a time like this.”

“Carter,” Auston responded softly. “We named him Carter. You’re right, though. I want to go find him. With everything that happened to Carson, they wanted to make sure he was ok and wasn’t affected during birth. I’ve just been such a mess since I didn’t even realize I hadn’t gotten an update on Carter or told where he is. I need to see my son.”

“Yes, go find Carter,” Ema said. It was obvious she was feeling a lot of emotions too but was keeping it together for Auston’s sake. “He needs you.”

“And one of us will be there soon,” Brian stated. “Once Mia is asleep, we both will be. We’re not letting you be alone.”

“I love you guys,” Auston told them. “Thank you, for everything. I’m going to go find Carter. Let me know when you’re here, please.”

“Of course.”

After saying goodbye, Auston hung up his phone and sat in silence for a moment just to calm himself down. Then, once he recollected himself a bit, he got out of the chair and exited the family room so he could go find Carter.

#auston matthews fanfiction #auston matthews imagines #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl imagine #nhl headcanon #auston matthews imagine

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9w1ft · 6 months

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Hi 9, can I ask you something DNPy?

I am a baby kaylor so I am still gathering and processing info and lore; my question is, during 2017, do we know for sure kaylor were still together? I mean, is there any lore or coincidences that support this?

🤍 thanks

nothing dnp-y about this ☺️ there’s plenty of lore and coincidences. here are some things for you to consider:

karlie put out a celebratory valentine’s day vlog in 2/2017 where she does obvious visual copying of the vogue best best friend video, and taylor recorded the reputation at&t now promo sometime before rep release in 11/2017 which also copies parts of the vogue best best friends video.

reputation promo photography shows taylor wearing both the evil eye ring and the vsfs angel wing ring, which are both kaylor rings. here is one example but you can look up more, like the ups promo video or other at&t promo photos. because promo would have been done months before release date, this implies she was more than fine wearing kaylor symbols in the middle of 2017.

yes. vsfs angel wing ring is a kaylor ring through and through. go actually read the masterpost if you haven’t. i’ve put a lot of work into it!

taylor wears the vsfs angel wing ring and the evil eye ring when recording several rep songs, which can be seen in the behind the scenes making of a song clips (check youtube) and footage from miss americana

the J necklace made its first public appearance dec 26, 2016, and can be assumed that we’re supposed to assume it was a birthday or christmas present. and she’s wearing it during the filming of the recording of call it what you want, which also references the necklace. so assuming you don’t believe toe is real, her happily recording call it what you want after dec 13 2016, and then performing it with a huge smile on her face on SNL in nov 2017 are both hints

call it what you want is a song that is obviously meant to sound like she says karlie in several different ways. karlie what you want / call it what you want karlie / karlie would you want to?

there’s the whole business of the clip of taylor singing call it what you want acoustic while playing guitar, the idea that she’s debuting the song to karlie in this clip. it makes sense because as i mention above, the song is sung in a way that sneaks in ways for her to sing “karlie” and taylor is wearing the vsfs ring in the clip.

there’s also the point about how a lot of us who really know what karlie’s voice sounds like (since we have watched so much of her content) can hear karlie singing along to the song, when taylor points to the filmer for the line “i did one thing right” as well as the “yes” part

karlie posted from london in december 2016 and december 2017. and in between we also know she was in london throughout 2017 because she went to london fashion week, british fashion awards, several other events. just search the internet for “karlie kloss 2017 london” etc. this pokes holes in any argument that puts taylor running away to london as some sort of kaylor disqualifier. karlie was seen in london too. she was also posting from nice france over the summer in 2017, which is just a chunnel away from london if you think about it. she was plenty close more than several times to where people like to say taylor was.

derek tweeted what is basically an easter egg to call it what you want being about karlie, just about a week before it was released

also another big group of things is just how there’s an obvious reason for taylor and karlie not being seen together throughout 2017:

taylor and karlie disappeared only as the election results came in. they were literally seen together on the eve of the general election in 11/2016. its at this point, literally from this day, that taylor begins wearing the vsfs angel wing ring (read the masterpost linked above). by process of deduction you can prove she’s wearing it in the pic of her and karlie kissing lorde’s cheeks, because she was papped wearing it to the party. i just mean this to say that it makes sense that they stopped being seen for 2017, because they had a reason. the election results.

the glitch 2190 days of our love blackout line represents the amount of time between when they went dark in 2016 til midnights release

in the lavender haze explainer video taylor describe how she and her lover had to combat weird rumors for the past six years. this also neatly fits the time between when they went dark after the election and the release of midnights

miss americana and the heartbreak prince, which is about the 2016 election, includes the line “it’s you and me that’s my whole world”

call it what you want, again, is a song about running away with someone and nobody hearing about you for months, which fits the rep social media hiatus where taylor was not seen

this is more of an opinion i guess but i happen to think that taylor’s “darkest night” was sometime between 2016 and 2017 and i think that call it what you want’s “starry eyes sparking up my darkest night” connects to renegade’s “i tapped on your window on your darkest night” and the lover album prologue and this continued theming of karlie having been there for taylor when taylor was at her lowest.

i could go on and on with the lyric parallels that show the narrative post-election but it’s kind of never ending so anyways.. i’ll keep my list of things to everything right here. hope this all helps!

#just gonna tag this #masterpost #so i can look it up later 🤣

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myguidingmoon-light · 5 months

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“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

No room. That’s something I’ve heard too much lately. Palestinians have been hearing that for 75 years. Since they were driven out of their homes—more than 700 000 of them—in 1948 to make room for the colony of Israel, there has been less and less room every day. Less land, literally, as even though lines and walls have been drawn over the years, Israel continues to illegally settle in Palestinian land. Less room to breathe, as the population of Gaza grew within the illegal blockade walling them into a tiny strip of land. Less room to live now, as Gaza has been under constant attack by Israeli bombs and guns and while the civilians of Gaza are pushed by this violence into even smaller and smaller “safe zones” (though there is nowhere safe in Gaza right now).

But also no room our conversations. No room in our imagination. No room in our understanding of our world of “human rights” and “developed nations.” You’d think “Palestinian” is a slur for how quickly it shuts up (or heats up) dialogue. These are our neighbours, and it feels like pulling teeth to get people to engage with their humanity—let alone ask their MP to ask our government to ask Israel’s government to please stop bombing civilians for the third month straight.

Today we recognize when a Jewish Palestinian family was forced by the state to leave their home, shelter in unfit terrain, give birth without proper medical care, survive a massacre, and become refugees. We Christians call the baby born in that family Emmanuel, which means God with us. God was born in Bethlehem, behind the border wall, in an occupation. What does that tell us about who God is?

Our Christian siblings in Palestine have asked us not to let this Christmas pass as usual. To that, I ask, what is Christmas as usual? If we don’t see our neighbours in the story of Jesus, what is the point? If we need to put the real, genuine injustices of the world out of our mind so that we can be comforted by Christmas, we are frankly doing it wrong. The point—the whole point—is that love and justice are possible for the unloved and the oppressed, even when it doesn’t feel that way. It is our responsibility to make that happen, and we can’t do that with our eyes closed.

You should feel uncomfortable about celebrating Christmas while a genocide is going on. We need to have room for that. We also need to have room for the hope that Christmas represents. We need to have room in our hearts for justice, lasting peace, and a free Palestine, because we are all needed to make it a reality.

And for God’s sake, CEASEFIRE NOW!

“He has brought down the mighty from their thrones/ and exalted those of humble estate;/ he has filled the hungry with good things,/ and the rich he has sent away empty.” (Luke 1:52-53)

I am indebted to Rev. Munther Isaac for his wisdom in helping so many of us walk through this time. Personally, I just finished his book “The Other Side of the Wall”—if you are a Christian, you have to read this book. I’ll buy you a copy if you want.

I also want to note that this post isn’t really supposed to be an explainer or an argument. I didn’t cite anything here, but if you’re curious about anything I referenced (e.g. why did I bring up medical care?), send me a message and I’d be happy to give you more details about what’s happening in Palestine. I’m no expert, but I know some people just genuinely don’t know the extent of the injustice and don’t know where to learn more; if you have questions I’m happy to help, but I’m not here to fight with you.

Same deal if you want to help but don’t know how. I’m happy to give you some ideas and even help you out with them (distance permitting). One important action you can always take is contacting your Member of Parliament. You don’t have to write anything fancy—just tell them honestly how you’re feeling and ask them to support an urgent ceasefire. This is literally your right as a Canadian, so you don’t have to worry about doing something wrong.

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thewritergremlin-rae · 5 days

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Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall - Who's the Most Alien of Them All?

Pairing: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki, Thor, Brock Rumlow, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Frigga, Heimdall Rating: T Words: 3229 Content: 2nd person, kidnapping, chloroform, manipulation, soulmate AU, Hydra!SHIELD at work, set during/post Avengers 1 Summary: You'd never thought there was anything strange about your soulmate in the mirror, apart from how handsome he was, but as fate would have it - he's trying to invade New York. Ao3: HERE Notes: I am an absolute sucker for Soulmate AUs so here we are! I'm thinking of using this same AU for some others (Bucky and Steve) but I'm not sure if it'll be in same universe

In this AU, you see your soulmates face as your own reflection~ THIS IS A REPOST OF MY OWN WORK I accidentally deleted the original post so the read more doesn't work on my own blog 😭

Banners by cafekitsune

Something considered normal would rarely be considered wrong.

So, registering your soulmate’s image via looking in a mirror at 18 and having a photo snapped had never worried you.

Everyone did it.

It was normal.

It was safe.

It was how most people found their soulmates, and even then some just didn’t.

This early spring day started as every day usually did. You got up and ready for work, took public transport to the office, and logged in at 9 a.m.

Lunch came and went, spent with the coworkers you got along with best, all venting about the small annoyances of the morning. You all returned to the office and the afternoon crawled by.

Last minute, your boss asked you to finish a report now rather than tomorrow morning and you waved goodbye to your co-workers with a shrug and a put-upon smile. They’d all been in your position at one time or another. No-one found it strange.

The report dragged on for a few hours and you had no idea why it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, but your boss was hardly known for his patience. He at least had the decency to stay behind too.

You sighed and printed a quick copy before knocking on the door to your boss’s office.

He called out and told you to come in, taking the report when you handed it over. His eyes barely scanned it before he spoke again; “Hey, I know it’s late, but we have a visitor in the conference room. Go keep them company, will you? It will just take a couple of minutes.”

You bit back the sigh and the roll of your eyes, knowing both could lose you your job. Stupid, tight ass boss. “No problem, boss,” were the words that came out of your mouth, a false smile before you turned and left - heading to the conference room.

You took the liberty of rolling your eyes hard before you plastered the smile back on and pushed the door open. “Hello.” You stepped into the room and held out your hand as you gave your name. “Mr. Dickson is sorry to keep you waiting, but how can I help you?”

Not the normal sort of client, if a client he was. Most clients showed up in suits or some sort of business attire, but this man wore a black T-shirt, combats, and a jacket certainly not of the suit kind.

“Brock Rumlow.” He smirked over at you and you saw the way his eyes gave you a once over. Slowly. Urgh. Double ugh when he continued with; “No problem at all, sweetheart. Don’t suppose you could get me a coffee?” He nodded over to the machine as he eased back into his seat.

“Of course, sir,” you answered with a smile.

“Feel free to grab yourself one, too. Your boss sent you in here to keep me company, huh?”

“Something like that, Mr. Rumlow.” The pot only needed warming before you poured two cups and offered him one, taking a seat opposite the man.

“I hope he doesn’t make you stay this late all the time, I hate it when my boss makes me work overtime.” He snorted and rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. “Do this, do that, clean up some mess, collect an alien’s soulmate, kill that politician, clean up more mess. Not a day’s rest I tell ya.”

You nodded politely, staring down at your cup as you fully processed his words. Aliens, soulmates… killing politicians? You didn’t know which was the most out there. “I-’m sorry I’m not sure I follow…”

He only looked more delighted at your confusion and the way your body had stiffened. “Well, you see, sweetheart, there’s this guy, Loki, who showed up outta nowhere and, see, he talks a big game about taking over the Earth and we figured, seeing as you’re his soulmate, that he might rethink those big ideas if we offer you up instead.” Brock shrugged as if this was just casual conversation and didn’t have you frozen in your seat. “’Course, if that doesn’t work, maybe threatening to harm ya will change his tune. But what do I know about aliens? I’m just part of the STRIKE team.”

Brock smiled, as though he hadn’t just threatened you or spouted what sounded like absolute bullshit. A beat passed as you stared into the cup in your hands, eyes unseeing. “So why don’t we-”

He growled angrily as you threw the coffee and the cup containing it at him and jolted to your feet, running for the door, pulling it open-

Your short-lived escape attempt ended when another similarly dressed and built man stepped into view. His hands clamped down on your arms and the panic really set in as you protested and tried to escape. “Let me go!” You kicked and thrashed, hoping the noise might cause your boss to call the cops, but that small slice of hope was soon ripped from you. He appeared from his office, face like thunder.

“You said this would be quick, hurry up before someone hears this racket.”

Brock huffed from behind you, fingers sliding into your hair and tugging hard to drag your head back. “We coulda done this the nice way, bitch, but that’s off the table.” He pressed a cloth to your mouth, harder than necessary.

The thought of not breathing hadn’t even crossed your mind before the fumes entered your body and you soon slumped into unconsciousness.

You woke already knowing you weren’t at home. Everything felt off and you hadn’t even opened your eyes yet as you laid on what felt like a bed. You took a shallow breath, trying to remember, but everything before falling asleep stayed fuzzy at the edges.

You had been to work and… right, your boss had made you stay late and there had been coffee and…

Your eyes snapped open but so far it seemed like you were alone. The edge of the bed wasn’t far from the wall and you hesitated before rolling over. Good. No-one there either and this side of the wall had windows.

You shuffled over to them, eyebrows furrowing at their size. Small and curved at the edges. you slid the blind up to be met with the sight of clouds and uninterrupted sky.

You scrambled to the edge of the bed and the one door that led in and out of the room. “Hey! Hey!” you yelled, banging on the door, fear skittering through you. How long ago had last night been? What time was it now? Where were you now?

“Quit ya banging!” A stern thump that made the door rattle had you stumbling back and falling down to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re nearly there, no need to get your panties in a twist, bitch.” It sounded like the man you’d met in the office… Brock if you remembered correctly.

He’d certainly changed his tune, but you had thrown coffee at him. Bastard deserved it.

“Where are we going?!” You had no idea if he would answer, if anyone would. Did it even really matter?

You were to be offered up as some consolation prize to an alien invader in the hopes he might go away.

You weren’t convinced of the plan; who would change their plans for the mere idea and appearance of their soulmate. You probably wouldn’t if you were in Loki’s position.

“New York,” came the answer before you heard footsteps leave the door.

You sank to the bed and flopped back on it, unsure what to do with yourself or for the rest of the flight.

You sat in what had to be some kind of interrogation room, a bit rich considering these guys had kidnapped you. A window made up much of the wall in front of you; the blank expanse of glass left you with nothing to look at but the reflection of your soulmate. It hadn’t changed for several years, but you’d noticed recently his hair had grown longer and it didn’t seem as well kept as before.

The sharp lines of his face had always left you flustered, but now they left you worried at the gaunt paleness that clung to him. What had happened? You couldn’t possibly know, you didn’t even know his name. Well, you hadn’t.

Loki. An alien. An invader.

You continued to sit silently in the chair, not knowing that an agent and your soulmate’s brother were busy deciding your fate.

“Father will not be pleased. Midgardians are not welcome to our realm and Loki is likely to remain in prison the remainder of her short life.” Thor spoke calmly but firmly. “Besides which, you tell me she is dangerous? A criminal? Why should Asgard take a criminal of Midgard to the golden realm? I do not think our prison is the best place to introduce them.” Thor couldn’t be certain, but he doubted the two would get along from what SHIELD had told him.

His brother would likely perceive another criminal as a threat or he would keep his guard up. Loki was not one for letting people in so easily. Especially not now. Whether she deserved kindness or not, he doubted Loki would afford her any.

“What if your brother wants to bring her?”

Thor’s eyes narrowed, giving the agent a sidelong glance. Hardly normal to accept a prisoner’s request… but he did love his brother fiercely - despite his recent tricks. “If,” Thor stressed, “Loki wants to bring her… I may agree,” Thor conceded. But he doubted such a thing would happen. “I will speak with him.”

Neither you or Thor knew the thin thread by which your fate hung.

The car rumbled through central park, you seated in the back wearing handcuffs and some gag like thing over your mouth that stopped you speaking. You still wore the bright orange scrubs and white shirt as though they’d plucked you from a prison somewhere.

You were free of Rumlow at least, you didn’t even know if the agent driving knew that you hadn’t been picked up from a penitentiary. This new one aligned more with what you imagined an ‘agent’ to be. Black suit, white shirt, sunglasses. Very Men In Black, which, ironic, since you were about to meet two aliens.

The car came to a stop and you looked out at the people milling around. You only recognised two for sure - one of them being your soulmate. Tony Stark confused you, for a moment, before you recalled his shift into heroism the last few years.

An equally tall, blond man held your soulmate's arm just above his elbow, so you had to assume this was the brother you’d heard murmurs about.

Your car door opened and a hand grabbed similarly below your elbow to help you out. Curious eyes turned on you and all you could do was silently, desperately, plead for someone to step in. Someone to take the gag off. You just needed one of them to be curious.

“Er… I don’t remember any plus ones going out to this little party.” Tony Stark gave the agent at your side a look over the top of his sunglasses, his gaze briefly sliding to you.

“She’s Loki’s soulmate,” the agent replied, no judgement but not much other emotion in his voice. He turned and marched you towards the pair of aliens.

“Now, hang on a minute.” A different voice objecting this time and you craned your head behind you to see a blond dressed in a check shirt and a brown jacket. You thought you might have seen his face somewhere before, but you weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders and you couldn’t place him. “She might be a criminal of some kind, but you’re going to send her to another planet?”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but it seems she may be more dangerous than a Midgardian prison could handle,” Thor answered. “My brother told me he has made many a visit to her on Earth.” Fucking news to you! Your eyes flicked to Loki, brows furrowed, but he didn’t meet your gaze. “I do not think he could have taught her many of the tricks he uses, but SHIELD assures me that they have indeed met before.”

Now you understood the reason for the gag. Can’t contradict made up bullshit if you can’t speak. You were about to turn a furious gaze on the agent that brought you out of the car when the soft clinking of a chain drew your attention.

Loki curled a chained arm around your waist, grip firm, and tugged your back flush against him. The action forestalled anything you had been about to do or say and you attempted to catch his eye. He ducked his head and you felt the cool press of his own gag to the top of your head.

The gesture had you stilling in surprise and seemed to only cement the story that Thor had been spun.

You felt eyes on the two of you, studying intently, before Loki’s little stunt seemed to be accepted as proof and preparations began again. You assumed for travel to this Asgard, but how exactly? There weren’t any space ships nearby and you were fairly certain the car you’d arrived in wasn’t about to escape Earth’s atmosphere.

Something with Loki here?

Thor reappeared in your line of sight holding one of two handles of some canister. A blue cube glowed inside, but it didn’t make any more sense than it had a few minutes ago. He caught your eye, his look intense and serious. “Make sure you do not let go or you will be lost to space as Loki was before he came here.”

You felt like meaning lay beneath the words, something you were supposed to glean from them, but still struggling to process what had happened the last few days you simply nodded and took hold of the other handle. Loki’s hand settled beside yours, overlapping slightly. Unsure if this stemmed from kindness, or an attempt to be sure you didn’t let go. or something else to drag you further into the fiction and lies that had been created around you... Well, you had no way to protest, anyway.

You hoped nobody would spend too long looking for you. Maybe the local police had already told everyone you were dead, covering up the act that you still couldn’t quite understand.

You wondered if you would ever see Earth again after this.

Your hand unknowingly reached for Loki’s at your waist, gripping tightly in fear of what was to come and in sorrow that you didn’t know what mess you were leaving behind.

Silence as Thor turned the handle, anticlimactic, but you felt it as your stomach dropped similarly to when an elevator descends too quickly and you were pulled upwards. The blur of colours was almost too much for your eyes to bear as your vision blurred, but soon enough your feet settled on solid ground once more.

You desperately blinked back the blurring at the edges of your vision to take in the bright gold that lined the room you had landed in. Or maybe an observatory of some kind.

“Welcome home,” a deep but firm voice greeted, your eyes drawn to a man in gold armour whose eyes glowed just as brightly as the metal. He sheathed the sword into the metal stand in front of him and approached the three of you.

You thought you could see something sad in his gaze as he touched the metal on your face, drawing it easily away from you and returning your ability to speak. “I am sorry you were dragged into this mess, miss.”

“How did you…?”

“My name is Heimdall and my duty is to watch over the Nine Realms. While I cannot see all at once, and some have managed to evade my sight in the past,” At this he gave Loki a look before returning his gaze to you - eyes softening once more, “I have kept an eye on your journey these past few days.”

“Heimdall, of what do you speak?” Thor asked in utter confusion.

But you found the words and breath to speak first. “They lied to you, I’m not an inmate! I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket!” you protested, courage mounting with every word you got out. “I was just doing my job like always and a couple of thugs came to the office and kidnapped me.” A squeeze at your waist reminded you of Loki’s presence and you pulled out of his grip, turning your annoyance on him. “And we have never met! I’ve only ever seen his reflection.”

“Loki-” Thor growled at his brother, but received only a simple shrug and a look that lacked all remorse in reply. “Why did you-?”

Warm hands took your wrists and distracted you, your gaze drawn by watching Heimdall break the cuffs on your wrists as easily as if they were made of paper. “My apologies, miss. I had no way of letting anyone on Earth know of the misconception.” He didn’t smile, per se, but he seemed genuine and his greeting kind.

He took a step back and you breathed with relief to finally be free of all your chains. “At least someone knows what’s going on.” Though Loki had to have known too, so why had he lied to Thor and SHIELD? “How exactly am I supposed to get home?” you asked, looking between the two brothers as if scolding children.

“Heimdall is to use the Tesseract to restore the Bifrost and once it’s fixed, he will be able to send you home. If I can, I will return with you and explain the situation to the Avengers - they’ll be sure to help,” Thor rushed to assure you.

To be fair, they had tried, but Thor had been so convinced by SHIELD… Well, he just seemed to have gotten all mixed up in all of this so you nodded. “So, I’ll just have to wait until the bridge is fixed?”

Thor smiled brightly this time, like the sun bursting through on a cloudy day. “Yes, just until it is fixed. I’m sure Mother will be happy to provide hospitality.”

“I see my son is already volunteering me.” Her voice sounded light and happy despite the situation, drifting over from some as yet unseen doorway off to the side.

“Your Majesty.” Heimdall bowed to her and you quickly followed suit - you didn’t want to end up in the dungeons for however long it would take to fix the Bifrost.

You straightened up to find her gentle smile turned your way, her beauty and motherly face stealing your breath. “I’m glad to finally meet you, though you are such a familiar sight that I feel as though I know you already.” Her arm settled softly around your shoulders and she started to steer you along the beautiful bridge you stood on.

Loki huffed behind you and you wondered if he might be embarrassed? No, probably not.

“I’m sorry you were brought here under such circumstances, but welcome to Asgard.” Weird space travel and spy stories coming to life aside, maybe spending some time in the golden city laid out before you wouldn’t be so bad.

#loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #MCU x reader #soulmate AU

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otonymous · 2 years

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Memento (DC Jason Todd - NSFW) - Kinktober 2022

Description:

(First posted on Pa*t*reon (pls see link in pinned post)! - early access Oct 6/22)

Kinktober 2022 Prompt #2: Lingerie

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language and mature themes - reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings include: super mild knife play (no blood involved!), a faint whiff of hate sex (in that love and hate are two sides of the same coin in this particular instance lol), jealousy, one-night stands, rough intercourse, brief mention of masturbation, size kink, angst.

Word Count: ~2500 words

Author's Note:

Hello lovelies!

This second Kinktober fic was inspired by an Ask sent in by @yelenabelovasbathwater, who requested the following:

This was supposed to be an exercise in writing about lingerie. As with most things Jason Todd related, it turned into angst. I hope y'all enjoy the read anyways LOL! 🙈😂

-XOXO, Otonny 💕

“Why did you come here?”

Why indeed, you ask yourself, feet suddenly leaden and rooted to the concrete floor, unable to tear your gaze away from the back of Jason’s head.

Dark and low, the sound of his voice is an echo in your mind, the words a warning percolating through layers of your consciousness, meaning gradually taking root:

To take one step closer would be foolish.

Dangerous.

But you had long since passed the point of no return, seeking out the flame at the risk of immolating yourself in his fire.

You could admit it now. Had dug down deep into the brittle earth of your honest truth and recognized that regardless of what had happened in the past or had yet to happen in the future, as long as you were alive, the spark of him would live forever within the cradle of your heart. For better or for worse.

And so, you came to face him: Jason Peter Todd.

Not in an act of bravery nor a show of bravado. Jason was no charity case and the last thing you wanted to do was fix him.

There was no fixing…this.

“I don’t need your thanks, if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

Shifting in his chair, Jason speaks, not bothering to look up from the open book in his hand — a copy of Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights as dog-eared and worn as the other books sprouting up in stacks from the floor around the cavernous space of his hideout.

“I-I’m not here for that. Though I am very grateful for what you did, helping my brother out when he was cornered by those thugs—”

“Tell him to stay away from dark alleys at night, yeah? Next time around, he may not be so lucky.”

You nod, stopping short when you realize Jason wouldn’t have seen it with his back still turned to you.

“So why are you here then?” he asks again, the sharp edge in his tone almost painful in your ears.

“I’m here…to say goodbye. I’m leaving Gotham.”

Jason’s hand stiffens, crinkling the pages of his book. “What about Dick?”

“Dick knows.”

“So that’s it, then. So easy for you, isn’t it? To just pick up and leave whenever you feel like it, not giving two shits about who gets hurt in the process?”

Finally…finally…Jason turns to face you, the book clattering to the floor as he rises to stand.

You had forgotten.

Forgotten how tall Jason was, rising easily two heads above the top of your own. You had forgotten about the broad stretch of his shoulders beneath his tactical jacket, its tall collar stiff around a neck thick with muscle and sinew, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each strained swallow.

His large hands curl into fists now, the same shape they made when he ran long fingers through your hair to caress and pull that night a lifetime ago.

“This isn’t easy for me, either. I loved Dick—"

“Yeah, like the way you loved me, right? One night and one night only? Or was that a mistake too?”

Words of hurt fall like rain upon your head as you stand there, watching Jason’s fists tremble with anger, rage…and the unfathomable depths of secret pain.

And for a moment, you wondered whether you should’ve turned your back to leave, whether it was better to let sleeping dogs lie if it meant you could avoid further muddying up waters best left undisturbed. And you might have done so…had you not looked into his eyes:

Blue.

Whereas Dick Grayson’s had always been the azure shelter of a midsummer’s sky, Jason’s were dark like the colour of a tempestuous storm:

Impetuous, emotional…and honest.

Jason Todd was used to living life in hiding: secret identities maintained under a mask, cloaked beneath a red hood. But here, now — standing face to face and breath to breath — he could not hide from you. Nor did he try, the glaze of moisture settling over his eyes telling you that for all the waves of anger rising off his body and squaring his jaw, Jason was…

…hurt.

And so you decide that this time, you would not run away. Like Jason, you were done with hiding, of lying to yourself and those around you. Thus, gathering your courage, you do the very thing you came here to do:

Be honest. With Jason, and your own heart.

“Jason, you were never a mistake. The only mistake I made…was being too scared to love you. I’ve wronged you. I’ve wronged Dick. And I’ve done myself no favours by thinking I could fool myself into loving someone else when my heart has always belonged…to you.

“So I’ve come here today to apologize. I’m sorry for hurting you and your brother. I know it’s little consolation, but I hope that in my leaving, the two of you can find a modicum of peace.”

“Like hell I will.”

Time seems to slow in the instant Jason moves, rushing at you and overpowering in the tidal wave frame of his body — all bulging muscles and calloused hands demanding as they angle your face to meet his.

His kiss is a punishing sting, bruising and urgent as lips meet, gnash upon teeth. He doesn’t care about strangling your moans with probing swipes of his tongue, and you pay no mind to the taste of blood mingling with saliva, yours and his. And when your legs begin to shake from breathlessness, Jason only deepens the kiss, wrapping strong arms around your waist to hold you in place because Jason Todd wasn’t done with you yet.

It was far from over.

There is a fire in his eyes, burning dangerously wild and reckless in deep blue to remind you of the exact reason why you had chosen Dick in the first place, why you had to avoid Jason all this time:

It was an act of self-preservation.

Because this - this - was inevitable: the chemistry that drew the two of you together so naturally like opposing poles of a magnet, the bond binding and irreversible. Electric. To fall for Jason was a death sentence; you’d be helpless against the irresistible force of attraction, falling into him entirely until you ceased to know the limits of where he ended and you began.

And the thought scared you.

That enticing lull of losing yourself completely in another, of loving someone so deeply that to be without them would mean the end of the world.

No one person should have so much power over another, you had thought.

And so, you left. Slipped out of Jason’s arms as he slept and forced yourself to abandon the encompassing warmth of his body. Fought off the soreness between your legs that reminded you too much of what heaven had tasted like as you told yourself, over and over again, that you’d be content with knowing Jason Todd intimately just once.

It wasn’t a one-night stand. For you, it had never been. Rather, it was the granting of a glimpse into a secret paradise. At a price you didn’t think you could afford to pay.

You were a fool.

You know that now.

The wisdom of your true heart reveals itself in the tears streaming down your face, in your fingers that hunger for the touch of him, wrapping hard around dark strands of silken hair to pull him closer and closer until he is groaning into your mouth, anchoring himself with teeth that sink into the cushion of your lower lip — relentless in its need.

“I hate you,” Jason says, brows furrowed in frustration as he lays the grimaced confession at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “I hate you so much for what you’ve done. To me. To Dick. But most of all, I hate that I can’t stop loving you.”

Yes. Yes, my love. Love me, hate me. But whatever you do, don’t forget about me.

Because I will never forget you.

Jason pulls away as if stunned, the stroke of white hair that grew from the crown of his head falling into his eyes and yet, it failed to mask the surprise on his face, as if he had somehow heard your innermost thoughts though you had said nothing at all.

“I won’t forget.”

Jason tells you, low voice solemn in such a way that left absolutely no room for doubt.

Rough hands grip onto the collar of your blouse, a single rip sending tiny buttons scattering across the concrete floor like a broken strand of pearls. And you are left exposed beneath the spotlight of Jason’s gaze, his fingertips tracing down bare skin to the small of your back while his eyes traverse the landscape of your body: neck…shoulders…collarbones…until finally coming to rest on the curved peaks of your breasts.

Red.

Sheer mesh leaving little to the imagination and dyed in a hue that matched his own colours. Enticing in its simplicity; thin straps tracing a starburst along your shoulder blades and a teasing second-skin that begged for removal in the most savage of ways: torn by hungry teeth or ripped to shreds in impatient hands.

And yet, that wasn’t what stirred Jason Todd most of all.

His shock came from recognition; the fact that you had worn this bra the first and only time you had spent the night together. That he kept the vision of you wearing this perfectly preserved in his mind, calling upon it whenever he faltered in strength of will and discipline — hot water beading on his skin in the shower as he reached down to grasp his engorged cock, stroking hard and fast until your name left his lips in a groan, Jason swearing that this time would be the absolute last he would ever think about you as he watched his seed circle down the drain.

To see it again, now, was torture; a punishment that he longed to endure, couldn’t help but self-inflict.

And he hated himself for it.

So he unsheathes the blade from the holster strapped to his muscular thigh, dying inside in the best of ways to hear you gasp at the touch of cool, smooth metal against your skin when he slides the tip beneath the strap at your shoulder and—

Snip.

—cuts, Jason stopping only when your bra had been stripped clean away, the memento falling to your feet in shreds, leaving you shaking not from fear but the violence of your utter attraction to this man before you.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,”

Jason whispers, certain and resigned in the prophecy that slips past his lips as he bends to kiss your nipples, tongue painting warm, wet swathes about greedy mouthfuls of flesh.

And the feeling…the feeling…

…defies description; could not be put into words for all the books that topple from their neatly stacked piles to collapse into a mess of open pages on the ground when Jason climbs above you, pulling free of each article of clothing that would cage his bare skin from the touch of yours.

His naked body is exactly as you remembered it; aside from a few new scars and bruises, it was perfection all the same. Bulky muscles shaping wide shoulders and thickening biceps and triceps, Jason is defined all the way from broad chest to the six-pack running down his torso.

You trace the midline of his abdomen, fingertip smoothing down to where his hands worked to unbuckle the belt at his tapered waist. He struggles to smother a groan at your touch, head falling back to accentuate the bulge of the Adam’s apple in his throat when you reach into his pants to feel him:

Hard flesh engorged with heat, so large it was impossible to wrap your hand around him.

And as you began to stroke, twisting your wrist as you worked your grip up and down Jason’s length, stopping now and then to savour the weight of his balls in the cup of your palm, you remember:

How incredible it had felt to have him in you; Jason’s gaze refusing to relinquish its hold on your own as his hips drove their pendulum swing, fierce and relentless as both Red Hood’s friends and foes knew him to be.

That night, when Jason took you for the very first time, there was neither anger nor rage to be found. Just pure, overflowing passion whose unfiltered source ultimately gave rise to every other emotion because Jason Todd was a man who felt deeply. He did not do things in halves because he didn’t know how to, and so he loved like he hated: with the entirety of his being. And right here, right now, you began to tremble, wondering — anticipating — what would become of you, someone who he loved and hated in equal measure.

THRUST.

Without warning, he enters, pulling your crimson thong aside as he slides in to the hilt. Jason seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every breathless gasp before he pulls away just to watch your eyes water from the sheer intensity of pleasure, gaze caressing over your face.

With Dick, intimacy had tended towards the gentle and leisurely; lovemaking that was sensual, meant to be savoured, not rushed. But Jason…

…Jason fucked.

Movements orchestrated like his life — and yours — depended on it. Rough, intense. Frenzied and wild. Kisses peppered across your face to soothe the stretch of his sizeable cock, the decadent ache of him driving fast and deep into you before slowing to a churning grind, just to witness your eyes rolling to the back of your head, to hear your body speak to him in arousal wet and smeared between the desperate press of you and him.

Jason fucked you like an animal, fuelled by all the broken memories: a night of paradise forever lost, the bitter remembrances of your time with Dick and the ugly jealousy that could find no outlet other than his fists beating on the faces of Gotham’s criminal trash. Jason never spoke a word about this to anyone, knowing that the day would come when he would tell you everything himself and so he does:

That he lived on your every last breath with each bruising kiss.

That you were the colour in his world when he holds you so tightly you could feel the pounding of his red, red heart in your chest.

That forever and a day wasn’t too long to wait for you with each punishing thrust.

Because for Jason Todd, you would always be the only person he loved, a memento in flesh and blood of the time he had truly understood what it meant to be…

…happy.

Thank you so much for reading and hope y'all enjoyed it! Much love to each and every one of you! 💕 For more juicy reads, please check out my P*a*t*re-on page (please see link in pinned post)!

👀👉🏼 Feel free to peep the Masterpost here!

⚠️Please do not repost or translate my work in any form. 🙅🏻‍♀️ Reblogs, however, are perfectly fine and much appreciated! 🤩💕

#jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #jason todd #red hood #dc smut #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #kinktober 2022 #my writing #more angst than kink #lolol

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little-diable · 1 year

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When one heart breaks the other follows - Tommy Shelby

I had this idea for a while, and I am super happy with the way this turned out. A massive thank you to @zablife for writing the letters for this fic, thank you for adding your personal touch to this story. I adore you. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy has been at war for months, the only thing the reader can cling to are the letters he kept writing. Until the day where he no longer writes to her, where she no longer knows if he's alive or not. All until one last letter finds its way to her.

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of smut, angst, crying and lots of pain, but a happy ending, mentions of the war

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3k words)

She could still remember how he felt, the soft hands dancing up her naked side in the early morning hours when nobody’s awake, not even the ones without a home roaming the streets. She could still remember how he tasted, the soft taste of tea sticking to his lips, a constant reminder of the calm hours shared in the home they were once supposed to raise their kids in together. She still could still remember how his voice sounded, soft like a new instrument that hasn’t been played for long, clear like a poet perfectly able to express their longings.

Mere fractions of Tommy Shelby (y/n) had to cling to now that he was no longer at home, not even in their country.

He had left for war months ago, and yet sometimes it felt as if he was only a few rooms down from their shared bedroom. As if they had tumbled into a fight, needing to chase the distance before they’d spiral into something they couldn’t pull away from. Sometimes it felt as if he’d stumble into their home any moment now, drunk from the endless hours he had spent with his brothers, enjoying a carefree life that wouldn’t leave them traumatised. Nothing but wishful thinking of hers.

She missed him, god, her heart was aching for the man she had once promised her life to. There was no doubt that she’d wait for him, the thought of turning towards other men that hadn’t been sent to war left her insides churning, there was no doubt that she loved Tommy like she had loved him all those months ago when he had been around. And yet she envied the women whose men were still around. She envied the lives they were able to share, the love they felt with every rising of the sun.

Tommy hadn’t promised her much, he hadn’t promised that he’d make it out without wounds and scars gracing his skin, but he had promised to somehow keep in touch. She clung to the address he had clumsily scribbled down moments before passing their threshold, the only way to reach him. Panic would rise in her system whenever she thought about losing the one piece of paper she had copied numerous times, the only thing she could cling to, the only thing she could remember Tommy actually touching.

At first she had received a handful of letters from him, letters she’d reread every single night, while planning her own letters she’d write to him. Her fingers would trace Tommy‘s words, the way he expressed his love and longing for her; a dull ache would stretch through her whenever she read the letters, a pain so bittersweet she couldn’t stop herself from torturing herself.

It had turned into some kind of routine for her, she’d shrug out of her dress, undo her hair and wear one of Tommy’s old dress shirts - breaking laws a woman like her could pay no mind to. Trembling hands would open the wooden box she used to store his letters in, and for a few seconds she’d stare at the letters, starting with the one she knew by heart:

“Dear Y/n,

I just received your letter and was very pleased to have the distraction. I had reconciled myself to reading the same letters over and over again, not knowing if the post would find us. We’re not in the same place, in fact we don’t stay anywhere very long. We’ve been travelling through terrible weather for four days and nights and we’re up to our knees in mud and water. Despite, Arthur, John and I are well and our boots have not worn as quickly as Aunt Polly feared.

I hope this finds you in good health and you have all that you need in light of the shortages. I’ve been promoted to Sergeant so I’ll be sending more money soon. If you have need of anything, I want you to be able to get it without worry.

At night as I lie awake, I remember you and me as we were before I went away, happy and carefree. I would fight this war in any condition, without complaint, if that is how you could remain. You’re constantly in my thoughts and dreams, the only person I long to see in the world. When I return, we’ll take the horses through the fields and down to the stream as we used to, riding until sunset. That is my promise to you. Stay strong, my darling, as I know you are. All my love, Tommy”

Tears would run down her cheeks, at first her body had been overwhelmed by the waves of sadness clashing through her, never had she experienced a pain so strong, but somehow it got easier with time. Somehow she had adjusted to the sensation that left her breathless, making her feel something besides the dull ache that stuck around like a friend that would never leave one's side. And yet, (y/n) wouldn’t be able to thumb through the letters she had collected over the months, laughing at the shared memories he kept mentioning, how he expressed his love and longing.

Somehow she had managed to find beauty in the pain, in the darkness she had been dragged into from the moment Tommy had been called to war. She could still remember the last day they spent together, cherishing the calm moments with her ear pressed against his naked chest, listening to the beat of his heart, roaring in his chest as if the strong muscle could already feel the pain coming upon the two lovers.

“I love you, don’t ever forget that.” Tommy had murmured as he had moved with her close, allowing one another to relish in the lust thumping through their veins, needing to feel their shared high for one last time. Her moans had echoed through their bedroom, nails scratching at his shoulders, leaving marks he’d be able to trace even days after leaving Birmingham.

The moment hadn’t been rushed, it had been filled with emotions one could only envy, not able to feel something this raw and yet so simple. He had fucked her with his eyes not straying from her features once, praying that he’d forever remember her lust-drunken appearance. One he’d take to grave if he had to.

Their love hadn’t been perfect, but it had been theirs, only theirs to feel, to share, to cherish. She wouldn’t trade her time with Tommy, the man she had known since she had been a child, for the world, all (y/n) could do was pray that he’d find his way back to her, soon.

Over time (y/n) couldn’t help but notice how Tommy’s letter grew shorter, no longer filled with the emotions she shared with him, even with the growing distance between them. No longer did he talk about his days, the men and women he met whenever they rested. She could tell that he was growing distant, full of hatred for the countries forcing simple men like him to fight for a war that seemed endless.

“Dear Y/n, I’m sorry it’s been so long, but present conditions do not offer much chance of writing any letters. We are in a place now where the night stretches on endlessly and it seems no matter how long or what you have been through they are never done with you.

I see the frustration of it building within Arthur most. He has fits of anger, followed by long silences, as though he no longer cares if a bullet finds him. There are days I feel it as well, the pull of the inevitable and I wonder if I will ever see you again. I should write something more courageous for you, but as you’re the only person I want, you’re the only one I could tell. All my love, Tommy”

Even though (y/n) could tell that he was no longer the same Tommy that had left their shared home all those months ago, (y/n) couldn’t help but await his return back home. She needed him, every part of the man she’d dream of late at night, of a better life without the war keeping them apart. It could be so simple, so raw, and someday they’d get to share this life – together.

It was afternoon by the time (y/n) found her way outside, naked feet patting along the warm soil of their garden. Dark clouds were gracing the sky, carrying rain that would eventually clash down to earth like the tears she had cried just hours ago, desperate for relief. Exhaustion clung to her, a tiredness she was all too familiar by now, a steady companion in those times where she felt lonely, so awfully lonely.

Her feet carried her inside, body trembling as she came in contact with the cold flooring of their house. The heat hadn’t managed to crawl inside just yet, lingering outside her door like a ghost of old times, not daring to enter without her invitation. Another day would pass where she wouldn’t speak to anybody, fostering her tea while reading the books she knew like the back of her hand, she was torturing herself, needing to feel anything besides the gaping hole inside her chest.

The sound of impatient knocking ripped her out of her thoughts, head snapping towards the door. Slowly she moved closer, urged on by the knocking that grew louder with every passing second. (Y/n) ripped open the door, staring at the postman who pushed a letter into her outstretched hand and left before she could speak up. With her eyes wandering down to the letter, taking in the unfamiliar handwriting, she felt her heart picking up its beat.

It had been five weeks and three days since Tommy had last written, forcing her to count down the days till another message would find her. She had expected a short update from him, anything about his whereabouts, perhaps a sentence or two about the way he was missing her and their home. But now she wasn’t staring at something written by him, so, why would an unfamiliar person scribble down her address?

For a second she debated putting the letter down, not wanting to read it in case it was just a message from an old friend she couldn’t remember, unable to deal with the disappointment that would fill her system. And yet she was urged on by her curiosity, wondering what had been written down for her to read. She moved back outside, sitting down on the wooden bench Tommy had built for her years ago, allowing her to take in the field right outside their small house.

A shaky breath left her aching lungs as she ripped open the letter, smiling as she realised that it was indeed a letter written by Tommy.

“Dear Y/n,

I don’t know how to begin this letter because it’s unlike any of the others I’ve written before. I will not post it, but carry it in the pocket over my heart. John knows to deliver it to you if something should happen to me and if you are reading it now, I trust he has carried out his duty faithfully.” Her heart was racing, it took (y/n) a few seconds to notice the tears welling up in her eyes, forcing her to blink in hopes of clearing her vision. Has he been hurt? No longer able to write letters with wounds too big?

“I would like you to know my family will always be yours. They will look after you accordingly, not only because I’ve asked them, but because they have always considered you one of their own. From the day I met you, I made no secret of my intention to become worthy of you.” Only now did the realisation slowly settle in. He had been hurt, though not in the way she had thought, no, no longer was he breathing, no longer was he sharing this life with her. Another soul amongst the endless number of fallen. A pained sob wrecked through (y/n), hands trembling viciously.

“Do you remember when we were eight and I spent every last coin I had buying you a coconut? You laughed until your sides ached asking why I would do such a thing, but it was because I felt you deserved it. I continually strived to be the kind of man you could be proud to call your husband. Although I confess I’m not certain how you would view my actions in the name of duty and country, as they have often been beyond my own comprehension.” She could remember it all, every moment she had spent with Tommy by her side, every conversation, every touch, forever ingrained in her mind.

How could it be? How could one be ripped from this life just like this? Had he been shot, laying on the cold soil with his mind drifting off to her for one last time? One question after another flashed through her thoughts, desperately trying to distract her from the painful truth.

“In my darkest days, I bridged the long hours thinking of your unwavering devotion. Life would have been empty and utterly meaningless here had it not been for your letters. How fortunate I am to have known a love like yours. I would give anything to have known it longer, my darling. I realise this letter must seem a poor apology for breaking my promise to return to you. Know that my last thoughts were of you and the life we might have built together. Remember that I love you, Tommy”

—--

The September sun warmed her features as (y/n) was sitting in the middle of the field around their – her home. She was sitting on a woollen blanket, eyes shut to take in the heat that would soon leave Small Heath. Autumn was about to settle in, one with the colder days, the leaves that would fall and the rain that would clash down on her part of the land.

It had been weeks since (y/n) had received the letter telling her of Tommy’s passing, a letter she had added to the others, and yet she couldn’t reread it, couldn’t bear the pain shooting through her weak body. She wasn’t the same without Tommy near, wasn’t the same she had been before the message had reached her.

Not once had she tried to get in touch with the family she had once loved oh so much, they reminded her too much of him, the memory of Tommy was still too fresh in her mind, unable to forget about the features she’d see whenever she closed her eyes. And yet it somehow got easier with every passing day, even though (y/n) knew that she’d never be able to live as she had been able to all those weeks ago.

What was a woman full of love without a husband alive to share the emotions she felt deep inside?

Her fingers absentmindedly stroked along the lush grass, deeply inhaling the warm air whenever her brain reminded her to keep on breathing. The days passing by followed the same pattern, a routine she cherished, a routine she needed to keep on living without breaking every moment she wandered through her empty house.

“Love?” For a second (y/n) froze, shaking her head as a chuckle left her, she was going insane, hearing the voice of the lover that no longer wandered the same earth as she did. (Y/n) found comfort in the conversations she’d share with his ghost, speaking to the man she could have married, building a life together with their family close. “(Y/n)!”

Her eyes shot open, body forced to turn towards her home. The sun was blending her, and yet she could perfectly make out an all too familiar figure. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) scrambled to her feet, stumbling over her dress as she tried to steady herself.

“You’re dead, this isn’t possible. Oh god, I’m going insane.” The heels of her hands found her eyes, adding pressure to her aching lids in hopes of clearing her vision. The sound of his raspy chuckles filled the afternoon, forcing her once again to take in his frame.

“As much as I can tell, I’m very much alive, love.” And with a sob rumbling through her, (y/n) stumbled into his arms. He smelled of mud, dirt and sweat, and yet (y/n) was certain that she had never taken in a scent this familiar, finding love in the way he held her close. She tightened his grip on him, needing to feel every part of him, trying to accept that her fiancé was alive and breathing. “God, I missed you, (y/n).”

“How is this possible, Tommy? I got the letter, I,” another sob interrupted her, feeling him growing tense. It took Tommy a moment to reply, hand finding her cheek to take in her features, eyes wandering over the tear traces on her skin.

“Which letter?” His voice was low, lower than she had remembered. No longer was he a young man filled with excitement and curiosity about the chances this life may offer him. No longer was he a young man clinging to the adventures he shared with his brothers and cousins. No, he was a man that had seen more dead bodies than the eye could count. He was a man graced by the anger those in positions of power had unleashed on the continent.

“Your letter, the one John should send to me, should you die. It reached me in July. I – I thought you had fallen, no longer alive.” One tear after another rolled down her cheek, dripping onto his warm hand. And with a pained expression tugging on his features, Tommy pulled her back in, chin placed on the top of her head.

“My uniform had been changed as I moved my rank, another soldier must have taken on my jacket, with the letter still in it. He must have thought that I died. I am so sorry, love, if only I had known.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, not daring to let go as they cherished one another’s closeness.

“Promise you’ll stay, don’t ever leave me again, Tommy. I won’t survive this again.”

It would take her weeks to fully realise that Tommy was back home, alive and breathing. She wouldn’t let him go, not now, not ever, because when one heart breaks, the other follows.

#Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine

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dominimoonbeam · 2 months

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Bite to Bruise - 36

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 36.

She stumbled into her valley, reaching her ruined cottage. She had never wanted him to find it, even in her nightmares this was never where Baron caught up to her.

His laughter echoed between the trees behind her.

She ran for the side of the house, but he was already there, grinning at her. Fresh blood clung to his cheek, smeared from the mess of a bite he’d taken, while more blood stained his torn shirt and smeared his skin where he had been the one bitten in his short stint in the battle.

“No. You’re not getting away now. To think, you were this close the whole time…” Baron said, looking over his shoulder at the deep shadows of the forest. “Do you know how many of your kind we lost to the woods? They went where we couldn’t follow. I would think they died there, but every so often one comes back out. Tell me, Wilhelm… is that what drew you here? Were you just too afraid to take that leap and go past the river?”

Wren trembled but stood her ground, finally taking a long look at him. He was exactly as she remembered. And why wouldn’t he be? He was unaging. Undying. Nothing she could do could change that. “My name is Wren.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, it is this time. Forgive me, but you don’t quite look yourself. You’ve been hiding well.”

Her mouth twitched, tears overflowing. She swallowed down reason. Blackwell had been right about that—there was no reasoning with him. Logic would not help her now. “How many times have we done this?”

His eyebrow lifted, head tipping curiously. “You know?”

“How many times have you murdered me?”

His lips twitched, flashing teeth. “How many of my blood did you kill? We’re not even yet. A lifetime for a lifetime…and their lives were supposed to be endless.”

“How many wolves did you kill first?”

He tsked between teeth and she shivered, remembering that mouth on her hand and how easily his teeth had snapped through her finger. “Hardly comparable. You were going to leave me. I did what anyone would have.” He raised a hand. “We’ve gone over this before. Your reasoning and begging will do nothing to change my mind.”

She dragged shaky breaths but nodded in agreement, hearing the roots under her feet wake up after their frosty sleep. “Okay. Then let’s skip that part.”

Baron blinked in surprise, lips parting to say something that was lost in the air when the ground pulled open and tried to swallow him.

He moved fast, somehow climbing the moving soil and rocks as they churned underfoot. He almost lost his footing, knee-deep for a second before snarling and pushing himself faster, climbing high and coming for her.

She had to give up the ground when he swiped for her throat, pulling power in and pushing it out to shove him back, rolling him into a tree.

The black of her magic on her fingers crawled past the low cut of her leather gloves, spreading over the backs of her hands and deep into her palms. She pulled the gloves off and almost remembered clearly a time when her arms and legs had been completely black, screaming testament to how much power she had turned into craft in their world.

A previous life.

Lifetimes.

She had been trapped in this cycle of pain and death with him for so many short agonizing lifetimes but she kept coming back. It wasn’t that she was too scared to cross the river. She wasn’t ready to go. She had lived so many lives but not that one she wanted—not the one he stole.

Her palms hummed with power and when Kish pushed himself to his feet, she saw him doing it a hundred times in her memory. He wore a hundred different outfits, in different places, in different times. Sometimes he was snarling and sometimes he was laughing.

Here and now, he grinned furiously. “You haven’t done this in ages, Wilhelm.”

“That’s not my name,” she reminded, feeling her wolf break through the tree line into the woods, cutting a line straight for her.

She had fought wars in old lives, performed miracles, risen islands from the sea, and sunk cities into the ground. She was nameless and endless. Who the fuck was this shade to stop her from having what she wanted? Who was he to kill her?

Kish snarled and stalked toward her, ready for her attack this time, his cunning eyes studying her carefully. It was a game they had played many times just the two of them.

Behind her, the slush and snow parted, creating a track through the trees to that shadow with teeth.

She didn’t back up. She didn’t run. She waited as her nightmare stepped closer and closer, reaching for her, those fingers close to her cheek. In his dark eyes, she saw her reflection and only then realized she had dropped the glamour of Bellamy. That forever broken face looked back at her and for the first time she saw it clearly—the latest face in a line of faces that had all been hers, just as Bellamy was hers. She smiled when Kish froze, realizing his mistake too late. In his eyes, she saw one shadow burst out of the others behind her, reflected in his pupil. “My name is Wren,” she told him and then stepped to the side as the giant fenrir barreled into his chest, teeth snapping over his face.

Baron almost had his hands on his witch when they slid to the side and the wolf slammed into him. Darkness edged in teeth blotted out the world, enamel digging into the sides of his head and bearing him to the ground.

Baron laughed inside that beast’s mouth. “Again? What is it with you and these dogs?” he called to Wilhelm, his voice echoing in a chamber of flesh and teeth.

The fenrir jerked side to side, as though he might be able to rip Baron’s head from his shoulders. His spine snapped like a whip, breaking only to crack and heal instantly. A heavy paw pressed into his chest, trying to pin him while those jaws continued to dig in and pull.

Baron snarled against the warm, wet breath of a wolf, finally grabbing fistfuls of that body over his. Fenrir were a strange texture, between smoke and fur, but there was muscle underneath. They broke and bled and died like everything else living in the world. He pushed and the dog pulled, his spine breaking and healing again. The pain felt like fireworks in his spine, going off between vertebrae.

He clawed, digging fingers into skin and then pushed his head deeper into that maw rather than trying to pull free. He bit at the dog’s tongue, his teeth much smaller and sharper than the beast pinning him. His mouth welled with that foul blood, earthy and bitter, and… familiar?

With a growl the fenrir threw him, releasing him from his teeth and sending him through a tree and into another.

The cracking and falling of those trees echoed out in all directions, snow and ice hurling into the air between them.

Baron was quick to his feet, swaying for a moment and touching the blood on his lips. The wolf’s blood. He knew this particular flavor. He knew… His gaze snapped up to the fenrir prowling in front of him, furious yellow eyes fixed on him. “No… That’s not how your kind work.”

The past and the present blurred before his eyes. He stood in both places, in this dark and wet forest at the end of winter and at the base of a mountain in summer. The same fenrir. The same blood. The same valiant effort thrown against him. “I killed you,” Kish remembered, staggering a step back as the ground seemed to shift underfoot with those clarifying memories. “I killed your pack. I killed your whole line. He was going to leave with you. He was going to… No. No! You don’t come back! Fenrir don’t come back!” he yelled, voice louder than the falling trees.

Something hit him hard from behind, cleaving flesh and muscle and breaking bone to nestle deep in his back. One of his legs gave out, dropping him to his knees, but he twisted to try to get a look at this new attacker.

Wilhelm stood over him. “You don’t know nearly as much as you think you do, Kish.”

Before he could reply or snarl, before he could even reach back to grasp at the offending weapon in his back, something cold and biting squirmed from it to his shoulder. It sliced through his clothes and skin, digging deep and coiling like a snake made of razors.

Kish doubled forward, mouth agape in a scream that he couldn’t get out of his lungs as that midnight magic surged across his skin, the iron curse digging deep to leech his blood. Shade blood, as rich as they came, first to the vein of his midnight. He clawed at it, at himself, trying to stop it from taking the last he had of his maker.

The scent of it filled his lungs and in his blind panic, his first thought was that his midnight was injured. Solse’s blood was a cloud in the air around him. His second thought was the memory of walking into that dining room to discover all his dead kin—slain by that witch he had once loved.

The curse twisted up his chest and wrapped around his throat. He stretched his neck, clawing at the living metal, forced to look up at Wilhelm.

He felt cold. His body was slow to heal where the long serpentine body of the curse had ripped him open, the metal undulating as it drank more of his blood.

“It won’t be enough,” Wilhelm whispered to the wolf, watching him.

Kish’s hands were shredded from the fruitless effort to pull the curse off of himself, but he tried to smile. No. This curse would not be enough to stop him. Someone would find him or his body would decay and the curse would go inert. Time was always on his side. Always.

“What are you doing?” the wolf asked. Kish had not realized he’d changed forms until then, his voice thick with worry.

Kish swayed on his knees and might have fallen over if the witch had not taken his face in her hands. She held him gently, like they were lovers again, and looked down on him with those eyes—the same eyes in a new face—always those eyes. Kish had held the newborn Wilhelm many times. The eyes never changed, even when everything else did. Those eyes could see through time and behind veils. Kish had carved them out a dozen times. They tasted like power.

“I can’t kill you,” Wilhelm admitted with a woman’s voice. “But I think I can make you forget. Forget me, forget everyone I ever was, forget the wolves, and forget your dead.”

His body convulsed, panic lancing his body deeper than any curse. He tried to scream out but the iron spell around his throat wouldn’t give him the air. Without his blood, his body was weak, and her power pulsed through his skull, violating and rooting around to dig out pieces of him.

His face was cold in her hands and the fear and rage in his eyes more gratifying than she’d ever want to admit. As soon as she started pressing into his mind, digging around for the trails of herself, she realized her magic had been here already. Without realizing it, she had been trying to make him forget her, her magic lashing out on instinct during all those deaths. It felt confused and frightened, making her want to pull away and hide from this monster.

Ever pressed against her back, bolstering her up and watching her enemy like he might throw off that curse and strike out at them again.

She couldn’t run from monsters and she couldn’t kill this one, but she could kill the part of him that knew her.

She learned about all her lives through his memories. Instead of being told the stories of her past by another witch she had to see it—see what he had done and feel the madness of revenge take hold of him. She burned them out of his mind as she went, deeper and deeper. It felt like she was eating those memories, devouring them like a snake in the vast jungle of Kish’s life.

It was tempting to take more—to take everything. His hunger urged her on.

Eat more.

Eat it all.

Take everything until the great Kish, first blood of Solse, was nothing but a newborn drooling on himself.

It was a trick. She could do it. She could take it all, but it would cost her. Vengeance always had a price and was sometimes worth paying. She remembered falling in love and the agony of that loss. Her only regret was that she hadn’t been able to bury Kish back then along with his court. There was no regret for that vengeance, not even for all the lifetimes of pain it cost her, because it all brought her back to where she wanted to be—to Ever. It was all part of a plan and she wasn’t going to lose her chance this time.

She had waited. She had returned lifetime after lifetime, even when most of her kind had stopped, because she was waiting for this moment—for this life.

Vengeance had a price that was sometimes worth paying, but not this time. If she wanted to end it, she would have to be justice—cold and exact.

She reached the last bit of his memory of her, far beyond the first offense. The moment Kish and Wilhelm first met. His spirit writhed, trying to hang onto that last piece.

“I know you will hear about this from others,” she told him, magic thick in her voice and the black ink staining her fingers welling up past her wrists to her forearms. “I know you will see the paper trail of our history, but without the passion, what do you care? I am no one to you. Just a waste of your time. You are Kish, first blood of the midnight Solse and governor of her court until her return. What am I? Nothing but a poisonous weed, Kish. Leave me be and I am nothing, come for me and I will destroy you. That is all you have to remember about me. That is all you will ever know. When you think too long about me, when you hear my name, you will smell your midnight’s blood in the air and feel that curse around your neck.”

He gurgled, the iron spell squirming to leech more from a fountain that would never dry. His body convulsed and his eyes rolled back.

Wren let him go, the air cracking when she broke the connection to his mind and let his body fall back onto the icy ground.

She sagged, knowing that Ever wouldn’t let her fall with him.

#Bite to Bruise #werewolf romance #werewolf x witch #modern fantasy world #<3 #romance #own world #own work #dominimoonbeam #clover down

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

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Title: Return to Sender [2 of 7] Sequel to Unwrapped

Pairing: Dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Andy Barber promised he would never let you go, and come hell or high water, he’s going to keep that promise.

Warnings: Dubcon/Noncon, Kidnapping, Minor Violence, Gaslighting, Basement Wife Trope, Manipulation

A/N: whew!! this chapter brings with it some plot, a little insight into our reader’s time with Andy, and… a surprise guest! well, not so much a guest as another layer to the plot who will be fairly important, but still. i also want to do a little something different with this fic. i don’t normally write happy endings, but… i wanted to give you all the chance to have a little input. at the end of this chapter, there will be a link that you can use to vote anonymously and tell me what you’d like to see! want me to go full dark? want to see something a little more upbeat? let me know!

This is a work of FICTION, and it is Dark, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk!

The hotel room is small, two narrow beds shoved into the cramped space, and a matchbox bathroom for the two of you to share. Well, three if you count Dove. She slept fitfully the night before, wailing long into the night until finally she exhausted herself, slumping against you only a few minutes ago. And even now, after Dove’s cries have finally ceased, you find yourself sleepless, staring at the pitted ceiling.

This isn’t her normal bedtime routine, sleeping in a strange place with woman she’d never met, hearing the sounds of strangers lives leaking through the walls. You don’t blame her for not going down easy, not in these circumstances. Alone with your thoughts, anxiety gnaws the tail end of each one, biting off their edges and leaving them jagged, fragmented.

What if she misses Andy?

The thought brings burning tears to your eyes, and you swallow against the thickness in your throat. You suppose that’s the most fucked up part—

She probably does.

You can’t block out the tide of images that comes sweeping into your conscious thoughts. Andy cradling Dove against his bare chest, humming to her until she fell asleep—Andy answering Dove’s late night cries, telling you to go back to sleep with a soft kiss on the tip of your nose—Andy making airplane noises as he fed her mashed pears—Andy in a thousand different ways. You can practically hear his voice in the dark.

And you’re depriving her of all of it, honey. How is that fair? No wonder you’re having trouble sleeping at night. You should come home. Come home to me and Jacob—

You cover your ears against the thoughts in your own head, forcing it back onto the pillow as you will yourself to sleep. You’re trying hard not to think of Jacob, of whether he misses you or not, because God that would make everything so much worse than it already is. Irene, snoring softly on the other bed, is blissfully unaware of your turmoil as you toss and turn. You give up with a sigh, sitting up and making your way to the “living room” area of the motel room, which consisted of a dubiously stained armchair and an old television.

Briefly you wrestle with the bent antennae before you sit gingerly on the oversoft cushion. The picture is a little warped, but the t.v. works when you turn it on, and you flip aimlessly through the channels with the volume low. The local news offers little that is interesting, most of it re-runs from earlier in the day. You watch mindlessly, taking comfort in the banality of it all. There’s a story on about kittens, some local family finding a whole heap of motherless kittens, and as you’re watching it, the screen suddenly shifts, a live broadcast interrupting the replays.

“Good morning, Albany, this is Evan Rodriguez—”

“And I’m Tiffany Johnson, and we’re here with an important update.” Both of the anchors look harried, like they’d been rushed through hair and makeup. Tiffany smiles too wide at the camera, showing all of her perfectly straight veneers. “Police are beginning to mobilize as the manhunt for 6 month old Dove Barber and her mother continues, now spilling across state lines.”

“No!” You didn’t even realize you’d spoken until the anguished sound of your own voice reached your ears. “No, no, no—”

“That’s right, Tiff, authorities are searching for the young mother, now believed to have been abducted from the family home.” The camera abruptly shifts, now showing footage of a bedroom destroyed, clothes littering the hardwood floor. You recognize the room instantly—how could you not?

It’s where you’d slept for for almost fifteen months, excluding the time you’d spent down in the room at the foot of the stairs.

“I know that doing my job and doing it to the best of my ability hasn’t made me many friends.” Andy’s voice leaks out of the television to wrap around you like thick smoke. You stare, fish-eyed at the television as the father of your child addresses the press outside of the Newton police station. Bile burns in your throat as your stomach churns.

“But to attack my family—“ His voice cracks with emotion, and you hate yourself for wondering if it’s real or not. “My daughter…” He scrubs a hand down his face. “I don’t think there’s a husband or father alive who wouldn’t do anything to get his girls back.” The watery, pained smile that Andy fixes the camera with is so convincing it makes your chest ache with cold dread.

“Honeybee, if you’re watching this, if you can hear me,” Andy looks straight into the camera, and you swear he can really see you—“I’m going to bring you home.” To anyone else, his words would be hopeful, heartwarming. But you know it’s a threat. “I promise.”

A man in uniform ushers Andy away from the cameras, before fixing them with a stern look himself.

“We have reason to believe that the perpetrator is moving north, eyewitnesses state they saw her getting into a gray or silver hatchback with an older woman, blonde, muscular build. We are exploring all possible options at this time, but we do urge the public to act. If you see anyone matching these descriptions, do not hesitate to call into the tipline. No information is bad information.”

The anchors are still staring at the camera with blank, dead-eyed smiles when the footage ends.

“Heartbreaking, isn’t it, Evan?”

“Incredibly, Tiff. Remember, if you see something, say something!” The tipline number flashes again at the bottom of screen, the neon numbers searing themselves into your retinas.

“And now the weather, Annie?”

“Well that’s not good.” Irene’s tired voice makes you yelp, turning around in your seat. You hadn’t noticed her rising from her cocoon of blankets on the other side of the room to stand behind you, rubbing bloodshot eyes. “That your husband? The one with the hair?” She asks, motioning above her head to indicate Andy’s soft, wavy locks. You nod stiffly. Irene crosses her arms, leaning against the peeling wallpaper.

“He knows what he’s doing,” she sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. “You’ll never get across the border now, not with your face on every milk carton from here to Vermont.”

A tremor passes through you at her words. “N-no, no, that’s not—I have to go,” you stammer. There’s no going back now. You know what’s waiting for you at home—the thin veneer of Andy’s kindness would shatter the moment he got you alone, and you don’t know if forgiveness is in his vocabulary. “I, I have to, we have to!”

Irene holds out her hands placatingly. “Easy, easy. I know,” she speaks slowly, soothingly, like she’s talking to a nervous animal. “But you can’t cross now. Not here.”

You want to argue, even though you know she’s right. Every minute you waste is time Andy has to amass his resources, to control the narrative. He has friends in high places—the highest of places.

“What do we do?” You ask finally, defeat coloring your voice.

“We wait. I’m going to make some calls. Order room service if you need anything, but don’t go out, okay?”

It’s still dark outside the windows, the edges of the sky just beginning to turn pink and orange with the rising of the sun. Irene walks briskly out of the door, her blonde hair hidden under a baseball cap.

“Stay here.” She instructs you again before closing the door behind her, the lock clicking securely into place. You do as you’re told, settling back onto the bed with Dove. You can’t sleep, though, new anxieties turning themselves over and over in your thoughts without end. You busy yourself cleaning out Dove’s bottles in the bathroom sink, rinsing and drying them out before you re-pack her meager things into the baby bag.

She wakes when the sun pools dim orange on the bedspread through the patchy curtains, reaching meaty fists up into the air as she cries.

“Oh, oh, shh, it’s alright,” you coo, bouncing her in your arms as you cradle her to your chest. You’d wondered if it was even possible for you to love her while you’d been pregnant, Andy’s face looming over you even in your nightmares. But when she’d come, she’d just been so unbelievably perfect, how could you not?

It’s not that you don’t see the pieces of Andy in her already—you see them every time you look at her. It doesn’t hurt the way you thought it would, though. Instead, all you feel is love. The deepest you’d known, bubbling up through the cracks in your soul to fill you up to bursting.

You loved her enough to leave.

Dove latches easily, and you wince just a little. She eats greedily, milk leaking from the corners of her little mouth. You can’t help but chuckle a little.

“Slow down, you. You’re going to give yourself—” She unlatches, a milky burp erupting from her lips. “Hiccups.” You couldn’t bring all of the fancy, expensive baby toys Andy had bought for Dove, and it had pained you to have to leave them. You’d managed to smuggle out a few of her favorite stuffed animals, though, along with her mobile. You arrange the softest blanket you have on the bed, and place her down on her back after burping her, and place the mobile above her.

Dove laughs and gurgles with delight, reaching her hands up to bat at the gently swaying pieces. You watch her for a while, humming to her softly as you watch the gears begin turning in her brain. You can’t turn off your own, though, and eventually, as they always seem to do, your thoughts circle back around to the one person you’d been trying to avoid thinking about.

Andy Barber.

You know he’s not going to give up—maybe not ever. The dark, determined look in his eye had told you everything you’d needed to know. The man calling himself your husband won’t stop, not until you’re under heel and fully immersed in the fantasy—

Until it’s real.

You’re getting up before you realize it, making sure to close Dove off with pillows so she doesn’t roll off of the bed in the few minutes you’re gone. You play nervously with the quarter in your hand as you walk down to the payphone on the first floor. It’s right at the bottom of the steps, and while you’re dubious about its functionality, you hear a dial tone when you pick it up and press the receiver to your ear. You punch in the numbers with a trembling finger, your blood roaring in your ears.

“Hello?” Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of your mother’s voice. “Hello?” She says again, an exasperated note in her voice. “Hello? If you’re not going to say anything why even bother calling?” You hear her fumbling to hang up, and a pained whimper worms its way out of your throat.

“Mom?”

“Oh God is this—? Larry, Larry it’s her!” Your mother’s shout rings in your ears. “Baby, baby where are you? Are you alright? What happened? Where are you? Can you tell us where you are? Go get—” There’s a cacophony of voices in the background, and you can hear your father’s panicked voice. There’s rumbling static as the phone changes hands, and you fully expect to hear your father’s voice next, but you don’t.

“Oh, honey.” Ice pools in the pit of your stomach as the pet name practically oozes out of the receiver. “We’ve all been so worried.” There’s a hard edge to his voice that you don’t miss, and you swallow loudly. You hate the way you can feel his eyes on you, even from hundreds of miles away.

“I—I—” You know you need to hang up the phone, to go back upstairs to Dove and wait for Irene and her next instructions, but your mind goes blank at the sound of his voice. The bravery that had seen you out the door feels fleeting now as you’re reminded of all the ways Andy can punish you—without even having to lift a finger in anger to do it.

“I left,” you murmur quietly, flinching as he hums. “I-I’m not coming back!” You say it forcefully.

“Oh honey. We’re going to get you back. There’s no question of it.” His voice is smooth and dark like bourbon.

“A-Andy—”

“Tell me where you are.” His words land forcefully against your eardrums, and you flinch again as he repeats it, louder. “Tell me.” He’s barely maintaining the illusion of calm now, you know it—you can hear it in his voice. “Honey, tell me where you are, or things could get very, very bad—”

“D-don’t threaten me!” You hiss. “W-we’re leaving. We’re going far away, and you will never see us again.” It feels good to say it, even though you know each acid word that leaves your tongue is probably costing you. “Never. You won’t control her, or me, any more.”

“You say that like you mean it, honey.” You hate that even though he’s angry—so angry—he’s still managing to dig at you, to pull at the loose thread of insecurity he’d installed himself. “Dove needs me. You need me, honey, tell me where you fucking are, or so help me—”

You hang up, your chest heaving.

You flee back up the stairs, tears leaking from your bleary eyes as you fumble with your hotel key. Dove is right were you left her on the bed and she looks up at you curiously as you pace beside it, running panicked hands through your hair and chewing at your already well-bitten nails. That’s how Irene finds you when she returns, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy from tears, still pacing nervously.

“What happened?”

“I-I-I—I know you said I shouldn’t call my parents—” Her face morphs into a bitter scowl as you speak, and you feel like curling in on yourself.

“Fuck. He was there, wasn’t he?”

“Y-yes.”

Irene presses the palms of her hands into her closed eyes as she blows out a breath.

“Okay. Okay. You shouldn’t have done that, but I think you know that already,” she sighs, digging her duffel bag out from under the bed. “But it’s a pay phone, so even if they trace it, all it’ll tell them is that the call came from here.”

“O-okay. Should we leave?” You ask, and Irene nods.

“I just got done talking to a friend of mine. We need to get out of the tri-state area, better chance of finding a small crossing where no one’s really paying much attention.” As she speaks, Irene begins shoving the few articles of clothing she’d managed to unpack back into the bag. “We’ll lay low for a few days, then try, okay?”

“O-okay.” For the second time in two days, you pack up, put Dove into the infant carrier, and follow Irene out the door.

—

“Is she okay? Andy?”

He’s still glaring at the phone in his hand, fighting the urge not to crush it. You’re so goddamn stubborn, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he schools his expression down from rage to concern.

“I-I don’t know,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair as he hands your mother back the phone. “She didn’t sound like herself, Kathy, she was scared.” It’s not an untrue statement, you are scared.

Scared of him.

Andy is angry, yes, but he would never hurt you. Not if he didn’t absolutely need to. He knows your time in the basement hurt you, though. Changed you. And now you’re behaving in ways that Andy can’t explain or predict, and he hates it. He knows you can be good for him, sweet and perfect—he just needs the right conditions. And he can create the right conditions—

You just need to trust him, need to come home.

“The caller I.D. says Albany!” Your mother exclaims, shoving the phone back into his face. She’s worried, and he doesn’t fault her for it, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons. “Do you think that’s where she is? Do you think that’s where they’re holding her?” She wrings her hands, distraught. Andy nods. He had had a hunch you might call home, considering it was one of the things he had been able to hold over you in order to ensure your continued good behavior. He suspected that the temptation to speak to them freely would be too good to pass up—and he was right.

Andy places a comforting hand on your mother’s shoulder. “I’m going to take your phone to the police, Kathy. They’ll be able to do more than we can right now.” The commissioner only does as much as Andy allows him to, and this is information he doesn’t want leaking to the press. He bids your distraught parents a fond farewell, and begins the hour long drive back to Newton. He’s already dialing Loki by the time he hits the interstate, the Audi cutting smoothly into traffic.

“She’s in Albany. Some trash motel off the interstate.” Andy’s nose wrinkles with distaste. He’s still angry, but this time with himself. He’d trusted you too easily, believed you when you had sobbed into his arms that you’d never leave, never, you promised, if only he would let you out of the basement. He can see now, in hindsight, how you’d worked within his confines to free yourself.

It will not happen again.

“Oh goody. I do love the other side of the tracks,” Loki’s sarcastic drawl further draws Andy’s ire.

“The blonde helping her—I have a name. Irene DeSantos, used to run a women’s shelter in Baltimore.”

“Hard not to admire her tenacity, going from business owner to a… what would you call a good human trafficker? An angel?”

“She took my wife.” Andy snarls into the phone, his face contorting with rage. Loki doesn’t know you, not like Andy knows you. He doesn’t know how much you need Andy, how you’d been adrift, rudderless without him. “Honeybee is… confused. Postpartum. She doesn’t know what she needs—”

“And you do?”

“Yes!” He snaps. “You have all the information you need. Don’t forget you have sand running out of the hourglass too. What an odd time for you to suddenly decide to develop a conscience,” he sneers. “Especially considering all of the people you’ve buried.” Silence meets his ear, and Andy knows he’s won. “Bring me back my wife. I won’t ask a second time.”

He hangs up without waiting for a response, the steering wheel creaking in his white-knuckled grip. Just be patient, he tells himself, willing the muscles in his hands to release. She’ll be home soon.

Where she belongs.

—

Irene’s “friend” owns a bar on the other side of town, and as she leads you down the grimy, sticky steps to the basement entrance, you hurriedly pull up the hood on your sweatshirt, and yank down the sun-shield on Dove’s carrier. You don’t want anyone seeing you, putting two and two together. A bar really isn’t the place for a baby, and you’re still debating just waiting in the car as Irene swings open the heavy metal door.

It’s mid afternoon, so it’s practically empty, only the hardiest of drinkers taking up residence in the far corners. No one even looks up as you enter, squinting in the low light as your eyes adjust from the brightness outside.

“Come on,” Irene looks over her shoulder at you, gesturing for you to follow. Carefully, you set Dove’s carrier on the bar top, peeking inside to make sure she’s still sleeping. There’s no one behind the bar, and Irene leans over it, making a frustrated face. “Where is he?” She taps loudly on the wood with the palm of her hand.

“Levinson! Get out here!”

The swinging doors behind the bar slam open, and a broad-shouldered man lumbers out. He’s carrying three boxes, all stacked precariously on top of one another, and he grunts as he sets them onto the counter.

“Stop yelling in my bar, Irene.” He grumbles from behind them. His voice is deep, but low and soft at the same time—like he doesn’t need to yell. “And why is there a baby here?” The man that steps out from behind the towering pile is just as huge, and folds his arms across his broad chest and looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s her daughter,” Irene replies, jerking a thumb in your direction. “I told you there would be two, Ari.” You’re trying hard not to stare at him, but you can’t help it. He looks like Andy—it’s not exact, Ari is taller, broader; with a wider set jaw and darker eyes, but the resemblance is still uncanny. It makes your throat tight with the desire to flee, to run right back to the car and force Irene to take you across the border right now.

“You didn’t say one was an infant.” He looks at you, then, cool grey-blue eyes coming to rest on your face as you look away. “Not that that’s a problem.” He doesn’t talk like Andy, doesn’t sound like Andy, and the hand he offers you is hairy and calloused. “Nice to meet you.”

You try to take his hand, you really do, but your arm won’t move. Instead, you find yourself folding inward, grabbing Dove as you look down at the floor. You’re not good with strangers—

Not anymore.

“She’s shy.” Irene says, batting his hand away from you. Ari nods, and doesn’t force it, dropping his hand back down to his side.

“Nice to meet you, shy-girl.” He looks at Irene. “Let me stock the shelves, and I’ll close up, take you two upstairs.”

You watch him out of the corner of your eye like a rabbit zeroing in on a prowling fox. It’s irrational, you know it is, but you can’t help but be aware, be afraid.

Andy made you afraid.

Ari works quickly and diligently, flipping the bottles up to hold them by their necks with an experienced hand, sliding them into place in the honeycomb shelf behind him. Dove is still sleeping soundly, and she doesn’t stir when you peek under the screen. Ari flips the sign to closed, and goes to rouse the few barflies still lingering, and your chest clenches as they shuffle past you and out the door.

“All closed up.” He replies, dusting his hands off. “Let’s go.” He leads you up a narrow set of stairs that he himself seems to barely fit in. The top of the stairs opens up into a hallway, and you realize that this is his apartment. You remove Dove from the carrier, cradling the sleeping baby as you look around.

“I’m going to pee,” Irene announces, squeezing past Ari and into the apartment proper. “I’m assuming the old room situation stands?”

Ari sighs in a way you know instantly means he’s irritated, but not going to say anything about it.

“Yep. Sure.” Irene disappears around a corner, and Ari turns back to you. His eyes fall to Dove, and you fight the instinct to turn, to shield her from his gaze. “I can give you the tour, if you feel up to it. Not much to see, really.” He laughs a little, and you manage a small, watery smile.

“Y-yes.” You swallow. “Thank you.”

“Well. You know. Bar’s downstairs. Living room is off through here,” he takes off, and you hurry to keep up with his long legged stride. “Kitchen. Wash up after yourself, yeah? And bathroom, which our mutual friend is currently occupying. My room is here,” he gestures to the room directly across from the kitchen. “And here’s you.”

The room he opens the door to is threadbare, but clean. The full-sized mattress has only two pillows, and what looks to be a thick, quilted blanket folded at the bottom.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of, um, baby stuff. But I can get you anything you need.” He sounds earnest, and when you’re brave enough to force your eyes to meet his there isn’t any dishonesty in his gaze that you can tell.

“T-thank you.” Your voice sounds small, even to your own ears.

“You’re welcome, Mouse.” He winks at you, and you look away instantly. “Let me know if you, um. Need anything.” He exits the room and closes the door behind him. You feel yourself unknot instantly, your shoulders sagging with relief.

“Maybe it’s safe, here,” you murmur to Dove, and she mumbles back at you in her sleep. “For a little while.”

—

Across town at the Seaside Inn, Loki pokes through the office. The manager is indisposed—perhaps indefinitely, depending on whether or not he answers his questions. It’s funny—there are three Seaside Inns in Albany, despite there being no sea at all. Loki ponders that as he tilts up the manager’s head with the barrel of his gun.

“And they left here at what time?” He asks, cocking his head at the old man. “Come now, I really don’t have time for games.” The old man’s eye is already black from when he’d not-so-politely informed Loki that he didn’t give out private information on his clients, that that wasn’t any way to run a business.

He wonders if he’s reconsidered in the last five minutes.

“Round two this afternoon. Driving a beat up old Subaru. Real old model.”

Loki doesn’t much fancy acting as Andy Barber’s errand boy, but he hadn’t been lying when he’d said that he could put him away for good. And if there’s one thing Loki Odinson doesn’t do, it’s jail. He’s seen pictures of you in Andy’s office, pictures of you before, he assumes. Ones where there’s still a defiant gleam in your eye, before Andy had tried to break you—and almost succeeded, he assumes.

“Lovely. Thank you for your cooperation. My apologies for the roughness.” Loki straightens his tie, smoothing his fingers over the silk. “Cooperation does have its merits. Do trust you’ll be duly compensated for you assistance.” He looks over his shoulder and nods to the men behind him. “You may untie him now.”

The room where you’d stayed hasn’t been cleaned yet, and Loki takes his time going through it, lifting the blankets, and checking under the bed for items you might have forgotten. You’re good—there’s nothing, not even a baby sock had found its way out of your possession. He sighs frustratedly, and heads for the door. Something crinkles under his shoe, and Loki looks down with disgust.

Of course this motel was littered with trash—Wait. He reaches down to pick up the slip of paper from the ratty rug, and squints at the smeared ink on the receipt.

One of his men pokes his head into the room, a worried expression on his face.

“We good, boss? Folks are starting to, um. Congregate.”

Loki looks up from the receipt, and slips it into his pocket with a smile.

“Yes, Gendry. We’re good.”

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