#is the doctor still the doctor if he replaced every part of himself

[ravencincaide]

Desperate times call for desperate measures 

Summary:  You leave your small twins with Dazai and Chuuya and hope the two of them can manage their fatherly-duties while you take an hour of much needed ‘me time’. Scratch that, you just needed long enough to take a shower in order to feel human again before going back to being a mom.

Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader 

Inspired by Sweetober prompt 8: Napping together

Warning: Cursing, hints at depression/ postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents.

Enjoy~

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You were going to kill Chuuya. 

No, you decided as you paced back and forth around the house, rocking the fussing twins in your arms. You were going to kill Mori for dragging your Chuuya out of his parental leave to deal with whatever shit Dazai had gotten himself into. You had thought the suicidal maniac of a lover would have gotten more efficient on missions- or at the very least more considerate. Nope. Still, somehow, if one part of twin dark was sent on a mission, he’d get in sufficient shit to need the second one's assistance. 

Responsible adults, your ass.

You sighed as the wailing continued with no amount of rocking, hushing, singing and pacing doing much to ease the tears. You were also silently cursing Chuuya for getting you pregnant with twins, why couldn’t it have been one to start with? Though you admitted as you looked down at the two crying balls of ginger, they were adorably cute; both took after their father in appearance,inheriting Chuuyas ginger hair and stunning blue eyes. With the only seeming resemblance to you being in their chins and petit nose. 

You definitely picked the short straw you mused bitterly as another loud cry made your ears ring. 

The ginger haired girl was crying and waving her doll around every now and then, getting it tangled in your hair or hitting you on the head with it with a surprising amount of strength. Her twin, an almost identical copy of her with slightly fluffier hair and larger eyes, was just gripping onto you and crying. He wasn’t wailing as loudly as his sister but the teardrops that rolled down his cheeks were larger, almost comical. 

There was no doubt in your mind that they were setting each other off. And all this mess because you got distracted and missed nap time. 

God you could feel yourself reaching your limit. What you’d give for just a little bit of time to yourself- a few hours was all you asked for. Something you hadn’t seen much of- if any after giving birth. As soon as the twins were born you got to spend a month in the hospital recovering before you and the babies were allowed home. Then it went downhill from there. First the wonderful nanny that you had picked out had to leave your services. The agency you hired her through was quick to send a replacement, but that woman got killed in an unfortunate plane crash. Getting another replacement was proving more challenging. Then almost directly after, despite being barely at home Dazai pulled from parental leave due to ‘emergencies’; first several back-to-back abroad missions where he’d only come home for a few days tops and then his last one for which he left over two months ago. You had Chuuya but even he had to go back into the office several times a week.In the best case.  If that wasn’t making your existence miserable, suddenly Dazai needed backup out of the blue, forcing Chuuya to leave without warning in the middle of the night. 

For the last two months you were completely alone. 

You had to do everything; from childcare to household chores, to different parenting classes and doctors visits with the two. In the evenings after putting them to bed you’d be sitting and going through reports and reviewing mission statements to keep your lovers workload manageable and the department not at a standstill. It became your job to ensure subordinates were still sent out on missions and nothing critical, that couldn’t wait until their return, got missed. Then you’d get a little cleaning and food prep done,  shower if you managed to do that before the babies woke up for their nightly feedings. When you’d crawl into bed you’d shut your eyes for twenty minutes at a time, plagued by nightmares of your partners drying and being a failure as a mother. When you’d finally calm your demons, the twins would get hungry again so you’d be up to warm the bottle for them before changing them and rocking them back to sleep. Sometimes you’d fall asleep right on the soft carpeted floor with both of them cuddling to your chest, sleeping a few hours longer than in their own beds. 

Those mornings were your salvation. 

You let out a loud groan, looking up at the ceiling as you felt tears sting your eyes. You didn’t know if children were meant to scream and cry so much. You didn’t know if you were doing this right or wrong. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. You just wanted them to be healthy and happy- why couldn’t you do that? You brought them closer to your chest and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads. “ Mama’s trying her hardest” you muttered as you continued to rock them “Mama would really really need a helping hand though.” 

-

It seemed gods took pity on you just this once. 

You nearly broke down crying or screamed out in joy when you heard the car pulling up to your driveway. Then silence before a key pushed into the lock followed by the door swinging opened. 

“ Sweetheart we’re back!” Chuuya yelled as he kicked off his shoes. You heard Dazai’s voice muttering something to him, the bickering overshadowed by the twins' cries. You made quick way towards the hallway. The moment Chuuya and Dazai came into sight, new screams filled the house; excited cries of “ Dada” and “ papa” which bounced off the walls, a bitter reminder that you children were never this excited to see you. 

You could see Chuuya chuckling, a bright expression on his face full of love and happiness. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the yelling- if anything it seemed to fill him with contagious happy energy and an eagerness to get his damned coat off so he could come to the children. Dazai, dressed in completely white attire, which resembled something between a prison uniform and the dresscode of asylum patients seemed less happy about the screaming. But even he had a smile playing on his lips as he hurried towards you at the same time as Chuuya, who had given up on hanging his coat and just threw it on the ground. The two were practically tripping over each other, with each ‘papa’ and ‘dad’ cry getting more and more eager to get to you, limbs frailing; hands, arms and snappy remarks at each others inability to get out of the others way. 

Finally they seemed to remember how to walk and the bottleneck in your hallway was replaced by two adult men rushing towards you. 

“ How are my loves?” Chuuya cheered looking far too happy as he hurried pressed a kiss to your children's heads. First the boy then the girl. Dazai did the same in the opposite order, both ignoring you and your puckered lips. 

For a second a pang of jealousy hit your heart. You hadn’t seen your partners in over two months and before greeting you, their attention was on the children. Picture perfect fathers. Shitty lovers. And the second the thought entered your head you felt your heart drop to your stomach with guilt. In what sane world was a mother jealous of the attention her babies were getting? You should be happy and proud that both of your partners- not only the biological father- cared so deeply for the balls of joy you created. Though, you added almost bitterly, right now these two brought you anything but joy. 

“ Here” you stated in a slightly bitter tone as you pawned over one kid per partner “ Do everyone a favour and act like fathers for longer than 30 seconds.  I need some ‘me- time’ before I murder someone” 

Chuuya and Dazai shared a look of bewilderment between each other as you stepped away from them. They had expected kisses, hugs and a warm dinner but got a kid each and a blank stare in return. Dazai stared at your retreating form with agap mouth for a moment before he stretched the little girl towards Chuuya; “ Here Chuuya be a good dad, me and Y/N have some catching up to do.” 

You pretended to ignore what he said, the same way he ignored your comment about ‘me time’. Though you wondered if you should at the very least make them dinner before taking out that ‘me time’ moment. 

“ Heeh stop being so bitter and just hold her, Mackerel.” Chuuya snapped trying to get the boy to settle in his arms “if your swimmers could actually swim they’d be your kids” 

“ Don’t be such a slug about it” Dazai declared as he turned his attention away from Chuuya as the boy began sobbing again making Chuuya curse before attempting to pacify him. Zero attention to either Dazai or the girl in his arms. 

In the process the girl-child who had just settled down, amusing herself by pulling on strands of Dazai’s grown out hair, turned her attention away from him and towards her crying brother. Seeing him cry, her eyes began to water.

 In seconds Dazai’s attention was back to you; “ Ohh Belladonna you’d not be so cruel as to demand your newly returned partner whom you haven’t seen for months to be a father without sleep or proper meal “ Despite his dramatic words he shifted the girl to his other arm so her back was to her brother and began rocking her more quickly. His second hand was trying to keep her attention on the doll she had abandoned in favour of his hair. The very doll she had been hitting you with not even ten minutes earlier.  Scratch your earlier thoughts. They were adults and older than you- they knew how to order in or warm up leftovers! 

You sighed heavily before you went towards the kitchen and the fridge. “ Then you boys are in agreement that we stop at two right?” You questioned  when you returned with a cold rattle for the boy. He was quick to grasp it in his hands before beginning to chew on it. The relief it brought was sufficient to stop the tears. 

For now. 

When you got no reply, you motioned between the two of them and then to the children in their arms. If you weren’t so tired you’d have laughed at the look of horror drawing of Dazai’s face as he realized you were serious, and then the very hurt expression at the mere idea of not having any children of his own with you. That look melted a piece of ice around your heart.  “ Or can you manage to look after them for an hour while I take a shower in peace?” 

Your lovers nodded eagerly, both giving you a salute before shuffling off towards the baby proofed living room with toys, a playpen and floor covered in soft playmats. Your eyes lingered long enough until they were out of sight before you headed upstairs to your bedroom. Once there you dragged yourself towards the chair by your make up table which had a thin layer of dust over your make up palettes. Serving as a bitter reminder of just how ‘much’ time you dedicated towards yourself in the past months. The thought plastered a bitter smirk on your face; no wonder you didn’t get as much as a kiss-hello from either Dazai or Chuuya. 

You dropped in the chair with a heavy sigh and buried your head in your hands. You didn’t understand what was wrong with you. You didn’t understand where you were making mistakes; how could other mafia women manage to do so much more? More time with children, more work, more chores- many would even visit headquarters to spend lunch with their husbands. 

Husbands- the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. How long have you three been together already? How many milestones have you celebrated? Missions, promotions, twins. Plans for extending the family with at least one more kid- Dazai’s. And still your ring finger remained bare. In fact after the icy greeting today you doubted your relationship would ever move anywhere positive from this standstill. 

You heard steps outside your bedroom, irritated and heavy before the door to your bedroom swung open with Dazai’s usual dramatic appearance “ Ahh my sweet Belladonna my heart-”

You didn’t need to turn around to know the look he was wearing.” One hour” you stated “ Or no more kids. Your choice” 

The door closed as quickly as it had opened. 

The peaceful silence didn’t last for long. Though you didn’t know how long you were sitting in your thoughts, salvaging a moment of being alone, you knew it couldn’t have been longer than five minutes before you were interrupted again. This time the footsteps outside your door were calmer and more confident. Their owner opened the door very gently. You closed your eyes biting back the frustration as you heard Chuuya’s half hesitant whisper “Sweetheart..” 

“ What is it, Chuuya?” You still didn’t have it in you to face him. 

“ If you want to soak in the bath, it's ready any minute now” You nodded, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so cold to him. Especially when he went out of his way to do something nice for you. “ Also, do you know where the nursing bottles are?” 

There it was. 

“ There are some prepared bottles in the fridge; just place them in boiling water for a few seconds until they’re body temperature. Not too hot.” You rubbed your temple as you spoke, fighting off the want to cry and scream much like the children downstairs. These were things he as their father was supposed to know. Or at least be able to figure it out on his own. He could lead an entire faction on his own, why couldn’t he handle a baby or two? 

After your reply you heard Chuuya linger in the doorway for a few moments. You pictured him opening and closing his mouth, hesitating as he thought over what to do. A hopefully side of you hoped he’d come in and wrap his arms around you and just hold. Just fucking hold you for a moment without the children being present. Then another cry from downstairs and he was gone; the door shutting quietly behind himself. 

You waited for a moment, gathering your strengths before leaving the safety of your room, rushing quietly through the small hallway, trying not to waver at the sound of the children's cries. Once in the bathroom you closed and locked the door before leaning your back against it. Why did no one tell you that when you’d become a mother you’d become so alone while constantly surrounded by others? 

Shaking your head you stripped before climbing into the baths. You let out a low moan as the feeling of bath salts soothed your skin. Then salvaged the moment of humanity as you dipped your head underwater with the realization you didn’t need to watch anyone while you washed. Then you reached for the shaving blade and shaving cream, getting rid of the hair on your body that annoyed you more than you’d ever wish to admit. 

When you got out of the bathtub and showered off, you felt human. Like a sliver of being a woman was returned to you. Dressing in clean clothes only reinforce that.  Now then you were feeling more ready to tackle the rest of this cursed day.

Coming out of the bathroom you noticed how quiet it was. The silence filled you with dread; anyone with children knew that the only time they were quiet was either when something was wrong or they were up to something, while anyone acquainted with Dazai and Chuuya were very aware that the two together were constantly either bickering or yapping.

Silence like this filled you with dread. 

Throwing your dirty laundry carelessly to the side you rushed downstairs, heart in your throat. When you made it down the stairs you stopped, shocked as the sound of snores reached your ears. More carefully you made your way towards the livingroom being cautious to remain light on your feet. 

Once there you leaned against the wall, your eyes falling on the heartwarming sight before you. All four of them were on the soft playmat. Chuuya was lying stretched out on his back on his coat, an arm dropped over his eyes and loud snores resonating around the room. On his chest lay your daughter with his hat covering her head from the light. His hand was on her body keeping her close to himself. Dazai was lying curled up into a ball on his side, beside Chuuya. His messy head on his thigh. Your son laying in his arms, held close to himself through a make-ship baby-carry out of his bandages. Although he wasn’t snoring you could tell he was fast asleep by the rise and fall of his shoulders. 

Going over to the couch you picked up the warm covers before gently placing it over them. You saw Dazai stir, a sleepy eye opening just long enough to register that you weren’t a threat then he shifted slightly, creating a space between him and Chuuya for you. “ Don’t be a stranger Belladonna” he whispered as he beckoned you to lay down between them. 

Once you did, he wrapped one arm around you, the second one still holding your son in place, before he buried his face in your hair. He took a deep breath in and out, his hand finding yours and squeezing it once before interlocking your fingers together. “ I’ve missed you” he muttered, his eyes sliding shut in tiredness “ Lets rest now and when we wake up I wanna give you a proper greeting Bella” 

Before you could answer he was fast asleep. Which was probably good because it saved you the embarrassment of explaining why his one sentence brought you to tears.  

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Author note: Craving part 2?

Check out We need to talk for the sweeter version, and Happy Unhappy home! For more angst.

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#dazai x chuuya x reader #soukoku x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd chuuya #sweetober #new parents #desperate times call for desperate measures

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 47

Part 1 Part 46

Steve settles into the new normal in waves. By the time his hair is a quarter of an inch long, he’s gotten his stitches out, face melded back together with only a gnarly line to show for it. By the time it’s a half an inch, he’s gotten the clearance to do his physical therapy at home.

Eddie sits in on his last appointment, listening tentatively to the way the doctor tells him he needs to put pressure and stretch. The way Steve needs to to move his rotary cuff on his own, working through the pain but not past it. 

The first time Eddie helps, seated on the living room carpet, Uncle Wayne in his customary recliner, Steve tries to keep the pain in, but then Eddie pulls his arm back, and the torn muscles protest. Steve groans.

“Shit, sorry sorry,” Eddie says, dropping Steve’s arm like it’s too hot to touch. “Stevie, sorry!”

He holds up his hands, eyes wide and already pooling with tears. Uncle Wayne scoffs, “it’s supposed to hurt, boy.”

Steve raises his arm back up, holding it out to Eddie. “Yeah, keep going.”

It takes an endless moment, and more of Uncle Wayne’s goading before Eddie reluctantly grabs his arm and continues his ministrations. He damn-near cries through the whole thing. Steve stays mouse-quiet and still. 

It gets easier as the days pass, the pain fading to a numb ache as his muscle heals.

By the time his hair’s grown out to a respectable inch, he barely remembers what it was like before this all began. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed, he hangs out with Eddie’s friends. He doesn’t go home at all. 

Eddie’s friends stop looking like defensive prey animals every time Steve sits down at their lunch table. Sometimes Barbara is there, sometimes Nancy and Jonathan. Always Eddie and his friends. And always Steve.

Eddie’s friends grow used to him. Doug gives him his extra cookie sometimes. Jeff helps him with D & D stats, patiently explaining everything he needs to know to survive his next session with the party. Gareth, in between glares, laughs at some of the things Steve says. Not usually the jokes, but it’s progress all the same. 

Sometimes Tommy will shoulder check him in the hallway, and Carol will look over at him with big, sad eyes from across every classroom. It’s fine. It has to be.

He’ll blink, every now and then, and there will be ash raining down, the sky red and storming. He hasn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Will. Or anyone at all. 

Steve’s fine. He always is.

It’s almost inevitable the way it all crumbles down at Carol’s feet. 

She corners him after civics, barely letting him out of the classroom before she’s latching onto his wrist and pulling him through the crowded hallway without a word. Steve halfheartedly tries to tug himself free until her manicured nails dig painfully in.

She maneuvers him into the boys bathroom, glaring viciously at the poor freshman washing his hands at the sink until he scurries past Steve and out the door. Carol reaches behind him, locking the door with a vicious twist before looking below each of the stalls. Once she’s checked that they’re alone, she whirls in Steve, glaring viciously at him. It’s an expression he’s never seen directed his way, not from her, and it makes his shoulders hunch instinctively. 

“What the fuck, Steve?” she snarls, demanding. 

Steve stares at her. He feels numb – hollowed out from the outside in. Like something’s been digging and digging until all he has is skin. “What?” Steve asks. Stupidly. Numbly.

She marches up to him, jabbing him hard with her pointer finger into his shoulder, this time the bad one. Steve hisses and she does it again. “You turn into a ghost for over a week, and then fucking ghost us?” she demands, voice rising in pitch and volume. “And you’ve replaced us with the Freak?”

“Eddie’s not–” Steve starts, hackles raising.

“I don’t fucking care about Munson!” her voice echoes around the small room, bouncing around the walls with the power of her fury. “Be friends with Munson, I don’t give a fuck!” She throws her hands up in the air, pacing back and forth the way she usually only does when she’s ranting about her Mom, late at night, when they’re holed up in one of their respective bedrooms. “I care that you ditched us with no fucking explanation.”

Steve’s organs are thawing out. It hurts – the way her bottom lip wobbles even as she’s yelling. The way her eyes are shimmering in a way Steve’s never seen before. The way her porcelain mask is cracking at the seams, and all Steve sees underneath is exhaustion.

But, he knows. Tommy’s made it perfectly clear with his shoulder checks and hostile sneers that it’s Eddie or them. “Carol,” he sighs. “You know that Tommy–”

She interrupts again. “Fuck Tommy!” she runs her hand through her hair, and it gets stuck in there, too much hairspray keeping her curls in place. “Who cares about Tommy? I thought we were friends.”

Her voice breaks on the words friends. Like she, too, is remembering nights spent painting each other’s nails, and talking about crushes. Like she, too, is remembering how they’d had their first kiss long before anyone had kissed Tommy.

Steve stumbles backward, spine hitting the partition between two open stalls before he allows his body to give up. He slides down, butt hitting the cold tile. He curls his arms around his knees, notices the tremor running through his fingers as he laces them together.

“I can’t tell you,” Steve whispers.

It’s quiet in the bathroom, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the drip drip drip of the runny toilet at the far end. Steve doesn’t look up from the tile between his knees, but he hears Carol shuffling forward, muttering under her breath how fucking gross boys are even as she sits down beside him.

She knocks her knee against his before pulling it back away. Neither of them have ever been touchy-feely with one another. Steve wants her arm around his shoulders, wants to bury his face in her neck. He knocks his knee into hers before pulling it back and away. 

“Fine,” she says, begrudging. Angry. “Don’t tell me why you’re so fucked up. Share that with Munson, whatever.” 

Steve sighs. “Carol.” 

“Does that mean we can’t even fucking be friends?” she demands, biting. “What, you’re too good for me now? Can’t even answer the door for me?”

Steve pictures it – Carol small in her winter coat, waiting minutes on end at the Harrington’s front door, ringing the bell for an empty house, waiting for the ghost of who Steve used to be to open the door. He wonders where Tommy was, if she didn’t mention him because he hasn’t tried at all. 

“I’ve been staying at Munson’s.”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, sees it land like a blow before she closes her eyes against it. “Of course you have been,” she sighs, defeated. Like that’s all she has the energy for. She levers herself up, walks toward the locked door, and slides it back.

It’s as she begins to open the door that Steve speaks, “do you want to come over after school?”

She pauses, foot already halfway out the door before she turns back to Steve, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “To Munson’s trailer?” she asks incredulously, but she steps back into the bathroom and lets the door close behind her. 

Steve shrugs. He can’t read her face the way he used to be able to. There’s something wanting in her eyes that he can’t name as they rove over his face, like she’s looking from something. Just like he is. Two people who know each other too well and not at all.

Carol turns back around, swinging the door back open. Steve feels something shrivel and die within him. But then she says, “meet you at Munson’s crap-mobile,” said casually over her shoulder like this isn’t a tectonic-plate shifting momentous occasion.

Steve smiles down at his knees, enamored with the idea of having his friend back. Of bringing her home. 

Part 48

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic

[nervousd]

BEING HIS EX LOVER

→ CONTINUATION

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

#SYNOPSIS— headcanon on being the ex lover of yandere! human Miles Quaritch and meeting yandere! na’vi Miles Quaritch

#WARNING(S)— yandere behavior, obsession, fixation, unhealthy thoughts, kidnapping, delusion/illusion(?)

#CHARACTER(S)— Colonel Miles Quaritch

When he first woke up in his new body, his memories came in short snippets. Certain memories were still fuzzy, and he had trouble remembering certain things from the past. But they had come to him slowly. The most frequent memories were of you; embracing him from behind, flirting remarks. He had been plagued by you, constantly seen in every corner of his vision. At one point his memories would bleed into reality. You would be there beside him, laughing and giggling at him. He would feel your nails scraping down his back, body pressed up against him. It had sent him down a spiral of need.

Constant, were his visits to the infirmary, asking bizarre questions to the doctors. ‘ Were there any side effects to switching into an avatar body? Were illusions part of these side effects? ‘ the doctors would prescribe him medicated pills in hopes he would gain peace of mind. But all it did was make him drowsy, not even in his dreams was he safe from you. You would appear with a bright smile and himself— or rather the original Quaritch. Not him— it wasn’t him. But he wished it was. You were happy with the original Quaritch, he envied him.

He was envious of your relationship towards the original Quaritch. Envy that someone else had laid eyes on you. Jealous to see his predecessor touch you; to be the object of your affection. At one point he began to wish it was him instead of his predecessor. He couldn’t help a smile curve the corner of his lips whenever he would dream of you. While some memories were still fuzzy he would see memories of arguments between them. How you despised him for his horrible actions towards ‘hometree ‘ how you hated him for his cruelty towards the Na’vi. How you wanted nothing to do with him after what he did. He had brushed your anger off, you’ll get over it. It was for the sake of the human race. But he had underestimated your love for Pandora. You had betrayed him for Jake Sully.

Oh— he didn’t like that one bit. An inconstant amount of rage coursed through him. How dare you? How dare you turn your back on him? It was only then he realized the depth of his predecessor love for you. He had you confined in his quarters claiming the scientist had deluded you into betraying the human race. How he was going to set your mind straight. How those scientists had manipulated you into turning your back on him. He couldn’t agree any less, anyone who tried to interfere in your relationship with him were manipulative bastards. They were all trying to take you away from him. This planet, the scientist, every single thing in this wretched place.

And they did. They took you from him. You were no longer in his arms. You had abandon him for the Na’vi race; willingly chose to be apart of them. Chose to be alongside with Jake sully. The man who had killed him— the man who had taken you with him. He was out for blood, out to kill the man who took you from him. But would you come back to him? Of course! He isn’t the original Quaritch— no he’s nothing but a shell— a clone, a replacement. It didn’t matter to him, you belonged to him before and you’ll belong to him in this life too.

It was by some miracle that he had saw you. He had taken the sully kids as hostages ready to lure out Jake sully. But he had caught sight of you. Despite his overwhelming need to have you in his arms he kept his head in the game. He had to think clear, the reason you had come was to rescue the children. So he had offered a trade, give yourself up and he’ll let the children go. You agreed and like the honorable man he was he stayed true to his words. But to his surprise you had a kid of your own. You had named him Miles, a human who thought he belonged with the Na’vi. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest, that child was proof of his love towards you. He couldn’t help the flutter of butterflies in his stomach. You were back in his arms, safe and sound where you belonged.

#yandere #colonel quaritch #navi quaritch #Navi #avatar #x reader #quaritch x reader #Navi quaritch x reader #yandere quaritch #yandere quaritch x reader #colonel miles quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch #recom quaritch #yandere Recom quaritch #avatar quaritch

[millie-multifics]

Proverbial Dark Clouds • Part 3

Major John Egan x Reader

A woman finally snuck her way into the heart of eligible bachelor Major John Egan, he is all too soon reminded of why he fended off love for so long.

Warnings: Angst. Themes of war, death and violence. Heart break. Spoilers to episodes 1-4. A little bit of steam but nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.7k

Final part of Proverbial Dark Clouds. Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2

x x x

Every moment they were stuck in the Algerian sand, Bucky kept his eyes on the sky, hoping that maybe a straggling plane would come along. The sun and sand were hot, most of the men had stripped to their underclothes hoping for some relief, many thinking about their lost comrades and the prospect of an ice-cold beer.

The only thing on Bucky’s mind was you. He could picture you sitting along with the boys in the sand, hounding them about sunburns and heat sickness but you would be as undressed as your modesty would allow with sweat dripping down your brow- so in love with the fact that you both had made it through alive.

It had all been a blur, the past two weeks or so for John. Being a leader amongst his men meant he couldn’t allow himself to be effected by the disappearance of you and his friends, he couldn’t lay his pain on the shoulders of his men. It had become a morning routine to visit the infirmary. The visits had started as a daily occurrence until Buck had caught on to his pre-breakfast disappearances, but he still stopped by when he could sneak away from Gale’s watchful eye. He’d stand near the doorway, expecting you to walk by, beautiful as ever even with blood spattered on your uniform. You never did.

You quickly learned that the base was always abuzz before and following a mission. While the pilots rested as much as their minds would let them the night before, all the other personnel were preparing to bring the men home as successful and safe as possible. For you it meant one more checkup for any soldiers who were cleared to leave the infirmary, preparing a general medical kit for each plane and hundreds of smaller medical kits for each soldier, a precaution should they need to bail out of the plane.

“Is there a man you fancy on this mission?” Doctor Williams asked, earning a confused frown as you shook your head. “If you keep pacing you will wear a hole in the middle of my floor.”

To put it lightly, you were bored. All of the patients had been tended to, every other task that the doctor had requested you complete was finished and you were full of trapped energy as your body overcompensated for your lack of sleep.

“They should be arriving anytime now, put on a jumpsuit and meet them in the field.” The doctor suggested, glancing up from his paperwork as you continued to pace.

“Am I permitted to do that?”

The man shrugged, just as tired as you. “Well, I’m permitting it. It would be more of a hassle to replace this floor if you wear a divet in it.”

You watched as the planes landed one by one. Most of the men had small treatable wounds until one particular plane caught your eye. The crew worked together to lower a bloodied man from inside, the rest of the medical team quickly rushed toward them with a stretcher. You followed, working to roll up the sleeves on your jumpsuit, ready to get your hands bloodied if need be.

“What’s his name?” You asked, your feet following along with the stretcher as you moved the injured soldiers jacket away from his wound.

“Duval.”

The familiar voice had you glancing over your shoulder as the men loaded the stretcher into the truck. Those gray eyes had been ingrained in your thoughts for the past week. Recognition dawned on his features, and what you could only decipher to be distaste flashed across his face. You had been someone he was not expecting to see again, after all, England had an array of American bases and neither of you had specified your destination during your previous encounter.

“Alright Duval, let’s get you fixed up.”

After helping Doctor Williams assess and treat Duval, you had been placed in charge of treating the men with smaller, more superficial wounds. Since most of the men had smaller wounds requiring only proper cleaning, bandaging and maybe a few stitches the lineup at your station was quite lengthy. Needless to say, your lack of sleep had you on edge and when the final man sat in the chair across from you, you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Don’t sound so sad to see me, sweetheart.”

“I heard you’re the one who treated Duval on the plane?” Your fingers gently gripped his chin to turn his head to the perfect angle for proper light.

“Impressed?”

“Confused.” You dipped the clean cloth into the bowl of water, “You could treat a wound like that but not take a shower to wash this blood off your face?”

“And miss my chance to be patched up by you?” He teased, but you could see it in his eyes, the nervousness he tried to hide. With your time in the medical field you had learned to read people through their eyes and body language, an important part of your job was to detect when people were in discomfort or pain.

“Earlier, you looked at me like I was a ghost or something.”

“I was just surprised is all.” He winced from the sting as you dabbed the dried blood from his hairline, “You this heavy-handed with every soldier?”

You scoffed, “The man before you did not flinch when I put 6 stitches in his brow.”

“Are you calling me weak?” John playfully leaned away from your touch “Maybe I am weak, weak in the knees for you.”

“Do these lines usually work for you?” Your fingers paused their work, your eyes jumping from inspecting his wound to the mischievous glint in his gray eyes.

“That depends. Will you agree to have a drink with me?”

“You are infuriatingly charming, Major.”

“Please, call me John.”

He had been tense lately, slipping closer and closer to the edge. It had become clear to Buck at Dye’s 25th Mission celebration that his friend was in dire need of a break. He sent John to London for the weekend, hoping that it would ease some of the tension in his shoulders and cast away the dark cloud that hung over his head. John felt the hotel was too quiet, escaping to a local pub for some noise and a beer and when a beautiful woman had approached him to share a drink he had tried to entertain her, maybe that would help him forget about you, but when she had gone to powder her nose he had slipped out undetected.

Sometimes John had trouble sleeping before missions, he would still be tossing and turning when a runner was sent to wake them up for their briefing. Now, he had trouble sleeping every night. Nearly two months had passed since you had disappeared, still nobody had any answers of what exactly had happened, either you had died a gruesome death or become a prisoner of war. The dark truth was John wasn’t sure which one he would prefer, resting at peace like the angel you were or trapped, possibly facing cruel acts of violence every day.

When exhaustion took over and sleep was impossible to avoid, he dreamt of you. Always so beautiful, always so you- those nights caused a deep ache to spread through his chest. He almost felt silly for the whole thing, you two had not been together long but he had been so captivated by your whole being. For so long he had sworn off love, not because he did not want it, but because he was certain that he would never experience it.

You smoothed down the soft skirt of your dress, no longer accustomed to wearing such a luxury item. The dress had been gifted to you by another nurse upon hearing through the grapevine that you had a date with the handsome Major. Unbeknownst to you, that Major was the “grapevine”.

A fast moving jeep suddenly stopped in front of your billet, the sound of it skidding along the gravel road pulled your attention away from the small crease along the dresses hem. The handsome Major stepped out of the jeep, his smile grew as he took in your form. There was a glint in his eye as he approached, gently brining your the back of your hand to his lips to lay a gentle greeting kiss.

“Your carriage awaits.”

You inspected the jeep and the patiently waiting solider in the drivers seat. “Have you ordered that man to chauffeur us around this evening? Or is he doing this with his own free will?”

“Half and half,” John shrugged, leading you toward the vehicle, “But that is because I have a plan.”

“A plan?”

The Major hummed as he opened the passenger door of the Jeep, “Do you happen to know how to ride a bicycle?”

Your chauffeur dropped you off at your destination and quickly drove off into the sunset, presumably back to Thorpe Abbott before anyone realized he was gone. John led you into a quaint pub, his familiarity with the other patrons and bartender told you that he had visited it often since arriving in England. He led you to a table in the corner, leaving you by yourself momentarily while he went to get drinks.

“It feels like you are sitting a whole world away,” He gripped the edge of your chair, pulling it closer to the corner of the square table, “Much better.”

“So, what are the components of this master plan?”

“My crew is set to arrive tomorrow, if all is according to plan. Bicycles are hard to come by at Thorpe Abbott right now and I sure as hell could use one, trying to get one for a friend of mine too.” His breath brushed your face as he leaned closer, keen on hiding the next phase of his plan from any nosy patrons. “He always said that drinking leads to gambling, and where would a better place be than here?”

You gasped, feigning shock. “Major, I hope you are not planning to swindle some poor locals for their bicycles?”

“If all goes according to plan.” His charming smile returned, “But of course that is simply only a singular component of my plan, enjoying a beer and the company of a compelling lady are my highlights.”

You spent your evening tucked away in the corner, John coaxing stories from you about your past, eager to learn more about you. You were both so enthralled that neither of you had noticed your bodies slowly gravitating closer as the night went on. You were sitting on the same side of the table now, shoulder to shoulder, feet tangled together and hands lingering merely an inch apart on the table top.

“It’s getting late.” John glanced at his watch, turning his wrist to show you the face of the timepiece.

You sighed, not wanting the evening to end. “Time flies when you are having fun.”

“That it does.” He finally stopped playing coy, boldly taking your soft hand into his rough one. You felt a chill run through you as his thumb swiped over the back of your hand. “I should put in a little work on acquiring those bicycles, then get you back to base.”

You waited patiently, unsure of what his gambling entailed. What you had not expected was for John to bet another man could hit a bullseye, the target though being an apple resting on top of Johns very own head.

“John, as a medical professional I must advise you against this.” You spoke over the rowdy patrons in the pub “There has to be another way for you to acquire a bicycle, you’ll lose an eye.”

“No I won’t, I trust Tommy.” He assured, the additional beer and adrenaline now running through his blood stream providing him with extra confidence. “Now he wins this, I get both those bikes.”

“Yeah, you’re on yank.”

“And I get a kiss.” John sent you a wink as he stepped in front of the dart board. “Alright, Tommy, not my eyes. Not my eyes, Tommy. All right?”

He placed the apple on top of his head and covered his eyes with his hand, letting a big breath out. “Alright Tommy, whenever you’re ready.”

You held your breath, pulling at the skin on your fingers to keep yourself from covering your eyes as well. The possible outcomes filtered through your mind, puncture wound of the face or hand, loss of an eye; both would not have great outcomes for any pilot. You had to close your eyes as Tommy took aim.

Gasps echoed through the pub as the dart pierced skin, luckily for sake of most peoples it was the skin of the apple.

“Tommy!”

John brushed past you to hug Tommy for their victory, before circling back to pull your body into his arms. You were too shocked with the contact to return it before he retreated for one more celebrity cheer with the other patrons who had witnessed the unbelievable sight.

You gripped your dress in your hand while trying to maintain grip on the bicycles handlebar, not wanting your dress to get caught in the wheel. Only a minute after you had departed the pub, the clouds opened up and the down pour started. You had laughed in disbelief at first, just your luck to be caught in the rain on a night like this.

“Nothing but blue skies do I see,

Not in England though,

Got shitty weather and blue skies, smiling at me.”

John sung at the top of his lungs as he weaved along the road in front of you, making the most of the poor weather with his clever lyrics and self-identified singing ability.

The bikes were abandoned in the rain on the walkway to your small cabin. Against all the rules, you had invited the Major to step inside to escape the rain to say goodnight. He stood in the threshold, his confident demeanor dwindling as a near awkwardness hung by the threshold.

You were grateful that the other ladies in your cabin had been granted weekend passes, you couldn’t imagine this moment if you had five other women watching this moment like it was the next best movie.

“I enjoyed tonight.” You found a shirt abandoned on your bunk, using it to quickly dry the water droplets running down your scalp. “Despite you nearly blinding yourself for a bet.”

“Actually, I do recall the bet including a kiss.”

His words hung in the space between you. You dropped the shirt onto your bunk as he took slow steps forward, almost unsure if you were open to fulfilling the wager.

“You’re right, I think it did.” The words sounded like a whisper coming from your lips, nearly being drowned out by the sound of the heavy rain beating against the tin roof above your heads. You slowly stepped forward, closing the space between your bodies until your finger tips brushed.

“This alright, sweetheart?” His warm breath fanned your face as he asked. Your nod causing your nose to briefly rub along his before your lips connected in a slow kiss. Your hands found his hips as his snaked around to the back of your head, slowly increasing the pressure of the kiss as your body relaxed against his. The kiss had unleashed an array of feelings that continued to smolder throughout the night.

His short trip to London had done nothing to help ease the spreading darkness of his mind- 30 bombers lost.

The headline in the newspaper and his phone call to Thorpe Abbott was all he needed to solidify the fantasy he had of what he must do moving forward in this war. The only way he would make it through without losing the rest of his sanity was to find you, and now Gale with the other missing men.

The heart breaking truth was you had never made it out of your reverie, the last words gracing your thoughts was your Majors sweet whisper.

“My pleasure, sweetheart.”

x x x

@canyousmelltheflowers @mads-weasley @groovin2beats @major-john-bucky-egan @finelinetimothee @surazim @orphancains @danny-boy27 @eugenedream

#major john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air #mota #major john egan x reader #john egan x reader #john egan #callum turner #john bucky egan

[portcakess]

Sweet Tooth Dottore . ⋆ੈ✩‧₊˚ೃ༄

HC: I'd like to imagine that the feared Second harbinger, Dottore, has a HUGE sweet tooth with no consequences

a/n: this is my first story and headcanon here! please IM TRYING MY BEST

Like what the Raiden Shogun said,  "Cavities are no big deal — you can just replace your teeth." Which is the case for Dottore.

He's one of the smartest, most knowledgeable, beings in Teyvat and has conducted countless experiments on others and himself. Surely the Doctor definitely has modified parts of his body. He doesn't replace his organic parts with pure metal covered in synthetic, close to life, skin. That's what his segments are for. Instead what he did is create some sort of serum or potion that allows his teeth to grow back. Perhaps he being the genius he is extracted that ability from a shark, modified it to be able to work on his own body.

You are quite fond of his natural sharp teeth, you think its endearing, sometimes out of pure impulse and much to his irritation, you like to cup his cheeks then spread them open with your thumbs to shape his lips to a smile (more like a grimace from his unwillingness to be part of your shenanigans), in the middle of kissing then proceeding to open his jaw to examine his sharp teeth. No matter how much you see them, you couldn't get enough. He doesn't have it in him to stop you, he's quite fond of that focused and fascinated expression you have plastered on your face when you're interested in something, much more when he's that subject.

What horrifies you is when he would out of nowhere yank out a tooth from his mouth. You two could be hanging out in his lab, he could be in the middle of an experiment, mid conversation, and he wouldn't hesitate or even tell you moments before he yanks out a tooth, insisting that he felt a small ache, immediately recognized it was a cavity and needed to purge the distraction. All while some blood dribbles out of his mouth. Don't worry! It grows back in 10 minutes!

Teeth aside, now onto the cause of his concerning habits.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to worry about any health issues asides from mild cavities that don't even get the chance to develop much. He's immune to every disease and every possible health related problem.

Unfortunately for you, you were still pure 100% human and can be prone to any disease out there. Being the normal human being you are in contrary to your lover, you can't help but also feel horrified when you see Dottore put at least 12 tablespoons of sugar in his drink of choice. 10 teaspoons on a good day. He doesnt sleep often, unless you somehow miraculously convince him to sleep with you that night. He needs all the sugar on top of SOME coffee to keep his mind functioning sufficiently for his experiments and research.

"Would you like some coffee with your sugar?"

Recall that one time, he received a not so satisfactory report from one of his segments due to some unfortunate circumstances in their mission. His expression one moment clouded over with irritation and mild rage, then the next moment much calmer when you, who had been sitting on the office desk with your back faced to the segment during his meeting, had fed him a spoonful of the parfait you had happened to be eating.

From that day onward, the segments make sure to inform you before their creator if their mission went badly just so you could prepare some desserts for your boyfriend so that he doesn't end up possibly wiping out any of the segments you're quite fond of upon hearing the news.

Bonus++

If he cooks for you, which is already a rare occasion on its own. He makes two separate batches for the each of you. One of his batches would follow the normal, healthy amount of sweet that he followed from what he knows or from a recipe, then the other...would be for him, certainly much much sweeter than yours. You dont mind it too much, him constantly eating sweets makes his lips taste like candy!

#dottore #zandik #genshin #hc #first #i hope ill do okay #my first time #genshin x reader #sweet tooth #he's just a sharky boy #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #fatui #harbingers #dottore being soft #soft dottore

[robocoplesb]

hope you don't get mad, nikki sixx. [2/2]

[★] part one

warnings: mention of labor, your daughter's name is ethel, fatherhood insecurities, anxiety, heather serving.

author's note: sorry for the delay🥹 hope you like it, work on it during class lol. good read<3

chapter two

vince ran to every corner of the hotel, cursing nikki every minute he went by without finding him. he didn't understand what was going on, but by the desperate way heather told him to get nikki and take him to the hospital, he assumed it was something urgent. he found the bassist at the back of the hotel, sitting on the hood of a car that definitely wasn't his and smoking.

“— nikki!” — he yelled as he got closer. when he got in front of nikki, he was panting and sweaty, which made the dark haired man laugh.

“— man, you look like shit.” — he said and then offered the cigarette to vince, who just took it and threw on the floor. “— what is your prob-” — vince interrupted him.

“— heather wants you at the hospital. now. i don't know, i think it's something with y/n. i saw her sleeping in tommy's car before they left.”

nikki felt all of his resentment go away in the same second, replaced by pure euphoria, even without having taken anything in the day. he saw vince's confusion grow even more as he started to run out of there, grabbing the blonde's jacket sleeve.

well, at that moment nikki didn't remember that he and vince had their own cars, and that they could have gotten to the hospital much faster. he didn't remember many things actually, causing him and vince to almost get run over several times.

“— IF YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON, I’M GETTING THE FUCK OFF THIS TOUR.” — vince said (screamed) to nikki. he felt a little left out, as if everyone knew something that for some reason he didn't. he had information that you were sleeping and were probably already in the hospital, but he still didn't understand why.

nikki thought he was the dumbest human in the world. he thought that was obvious enough. he didn't want to answer, being too busy thinking about the way he treated you moments before you went into labor and hating himself for it, but he knew that if nothing were cleared up, vince really was going to “get the fuck out”.

“— YOUR NIECE IS BORN, ETHEL IS FUCKING COMING” — it was enough to make vince shut up. a rumbling silence full of concern for you, that was the only thing that existed for them at that time.

it wasn't like heather had said which hospital they were going to, but on that tour all members and assistants were notified of how they should if you go into labor. that is, everyone received the address of the nearest hospital and tips on how to deal with you in this situation.

the aforementioned hospital was twenty minutes away, if you were driving. tommy got there in ten, but only because he went over the speed limit more than you can imagine. then, vince and nikki arrived within thirty minutes, both out of breath and vince thought he had stopped feeling his legs. they were greeted by a very suspicious receptionist, presumably thinking they were a couple of drunken freaks from the street.

“— my...my wife is...here” — nikki took a deep breath before continuing talking. “— y/n sixx, she's having a baby, our friends brought her here.”

“— sixx? hm, your friends tommy and heather, right?” — she asked

"- YES! Yes, Tommy and Heather, now please let me in. you need to let me in. my wife is having my fucking daughter, can you understand?” — and he would have continued to make a fuss in front of all the other patients if vince hadn't pulled him away from the woman, squeezing his arm.

“— sorry for my friend, but we need to see her now.”

they were shown into a waiting room, occupied only by a tommy who was nearly pulling his hair out and a heather who was just trying to calm him down. before they realize nikki and vince were there, a doctor appears in the doorway. tommy was quick to run up to nikki and hug him, who didn't know how to react. he didn't knew what to do or say, it was like for all that time there wasn't a single thing in the world that mattered more than you. and for him, it really didn't have.

“— this is nikki?” — the doctor asks, turning to heather.

“— yes, it's her husband, he's the father. our friend picked him up while we brought her here. how is she?”

“— she's taking it well. will you go see?” — he asked for nikki.

he didn't know how to respond. yes? no? usually the father was together at the birth of the child, right? but did you wanted to see him? was he even prepared? he knew this was not the time to think about it. damn, the child was already being born, but he still didn't know how to deal.

“— well, i don't know what that means, but the room is over here, if you want to go...” — the doctor said after some long ten seconds of silence.tommy pushed him towards the door, and then he just followed the man to the door of the room you were.

he heard a few squeals and muffled voices from nurses uttering encouragements for you to push harder. and that's when the desperation really hit him. that's when all the scenes of that night flashed through his head, in a cruel combination of several memories from his own childhood. he felt terrible for implying that you would not be a good mother when he couldn't even walk into that room. how could he? how could he get into that child's life, when he just didn't knew how?

he didn't feel the tears, but they were there. he didn't realize he was crying until he heard heather's voice from beside him.

"- so? what are you waiting for?” — she said with a clear tone of irritation.

he thought a little about what to say “— i can't, heather.” he murmured to her.

heather let out a wry laugh and pulled nikki into an empty corner of the hall, pushing him against the wall. “— what the fuck is your problem, sixx? did you freaked out? i heard what you said to her. practically the entire hotel, so, if you feel guilty or something like that, why don't you take the fucking responsibility for putting that kid inside of her? or do you want to end up like your father? you love that woman and that child, and they love you more than anyone in your life. if you don't do this shit, fuck it, but then you can bet i'll make sure you never hear about them again. never.”

it was like that, with those words, and with that woman's finger pointed in his face, that nikki realized that any insecurity would be useless. that he couldn't just give up.

heather pulled away from him slowly, and stared as if she could kill him. “— go." — it was harsh. nothing else needed to be said.

★

you don't remember nikki talking to you during labor. you remember he held your hand until the end, and whenever his screams got worse, he started kissing your face, as if he could help in something. he asked you once if you got mad when you saw him in the room, and you laughed your ass off before saying that your biggest fear that day was that he wouldn't show up.

ethel was named by you shortly after you found out you were pregnant. he didn't know exactly what the meaning was, but he agreed as soon as you suggested it because he thought it was so sweet. you said it meant "noble" or "honorable". that's how you felt. at every moment next to your daughter, you could only feel things as simple as these. nikki understood after a while, because that's how he felt too.

that night, you lay on his chest, and ethel in your midst. you clasp your hands over the girl's, and you remember falling asleep while listening to nikki humming something.

then a few months later that melody finally goes to the studio.

#fanfic #fanfiction #imagines #nikki sixx #nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx imagine #mötley crüe #tommy lee #nikki sixx x reader #motley crue #motley crue imagines #mötley crüe fanfic #nikki sixx smut #tommy lee imagine #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee smut #vince neil #vince neil imagine #vince neil x reader #mick mars #mick mars x reader #mick mars smut #vince neil smut #80s

[alearicci]

“estie... our daughter is perfect” – EO31

pairings: esteban ocon x wife!reader; esteban ocon x wife!y/n

summary: while Esteban performs at the Grand Prix and merges into one with speed, he does not even suspect that his wife y/n ocon is about to give birth to their long-awaited daughter.

warnings: pregnancy, the birth of the first child, a lot of emotions and reflections, comfort, tears

note: the second part is already in the profile. im crying. I really love estie and this theme of story. expect a lot of stories about family daily 🥹

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ♡ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Every cell of his being wanted to be near his wife y/n, to meet their newborn daughter Amelie, who entered this world while he was racing.

With the festive champagne still sparkling on his racing suit, Esteban wasted no time. He hurriedly headed to the hospital, his mind consumed by a mixture of joy, anticipation and an insatiable desire to hug his daughter for the first time.

Already sitting in his car, Esteban started it and hurriedly taxied the sports car onto the main road. Keeping his hands firmly on the steering wheel, he involuntarily thought about everything that was happening.

He's been dreaming about his daughter all his life. Not even about my son, although he also dreamed of him, but about my daughter. Vowing to be the best father he could be, he felt a huge determination to give her everything she deserved— love, support and opportunities that he may have missed out on as a child.

Memories of his own childhood came flooding back to him, when financial difficulties sometimes loomed over his head. To fulfill his dream, his parents had to sacrifice too much. The realization that he could now give his daughter the life he could only dream of lit a fire in him.

With every ounce of his being, Esteban promised himself that his daughter would never experience the difficulties he faced in his childhood. He will work tirelessly to secure her future, ensuring that she will be surrounded by the comfort, stability and resources necessary to realize her dreams.

I wonder what her dream will be?

But it wasn't just about material goods. He was fully aware that it is possible to be a great father regardless of financial capabilities. He sought to build a deep emotional connection with his daughter, to be close to her in every possible way. His thoughts wandered over the precious moments they would share, from bedtime stories to teaching her how to ride a bike, from cheering her on at school plays to being her unwavering support in difficult moments.

It was a pain in the heart that they would have to part often because of Ocon's career. As soon as this thought popped into his head, Esteban bit his lower lip and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Now we need to think not about this, but about how their first meeting will happen.

As he sped along the road, the roar of the engine mixed with the stream of thoughts that dominated his head. "Amelie," he whispered to himself, savoring the sound of her name coming off his tongue. Chords of pride and overwhelming love began to intertwine in his thoughts, mixing with the responsibilities and dreams that lay ahead of him as a father.

Time seemed to pass at a snail's pace as he anxiously made his way through the crowded streets to the maternity hospital. The roar of the crowd and the impetuous atmosphere of the circuit were replaced by a serene calm that engulfed his thoughts. With each passing milestone on the way, his heart was filled with expectation.

Every red light, every turn and every passing car only fueled Esteban's impatience. He couldn't wait to hug y/n to soothe her with a gentle hug after a long wait. His heart was fluttering with anticipation, overflowing with love for the woman who stood by his side no matter what.

Finally reaching the hospital, Esteban hastily parked the car and rushed to the entrance. Nurses and doctors in smocks and masks greeted him with understanding smiles, recognizing the famous Formula 1 racer. However, at that moment he was just a nervous father-to-be.

Finally the moment has come. Esteban entered the hospital room, his gaze immediately stopped on y/n. He caught his breath when he saw her, her face shining with a mixture of fatigue and pure happiness. Their eyes met, conveying a deep message of love and gratitude that could not be expressed in any words.

Esteban distinctly felt moisture begin to accumulate in the corners of his eyes. He laughed faintly and covered his eyes with his hand, not wanting to show his weakness to his beloved wife.

She smiled faintly and muttered.

"Come to me, my love"

Ocon obediently walked over and sat down on a chair next to y/n's bed. She reached out her hand and gently stroked his cheek. Esteban sniffed and put his hand on hers.

"We did it, l'amour de ma vie. (love of my life)"

"No, you did it, y/n. She's everything we could ever dream of, honey. I can't believe how lucky we are to have her in our lives. I'm so proud of you, my love. You brought our beautiful girl into this world."

Esteban smiled tenderly and leaned towards his wife to leave a light kiss on her lips. He didn't want to disturb her and decided that he would have time to kiss her properly a little later.

"I'm going to cry, Estie."

This intimate and personal moment was interrupted by the arrival of the doctor.

"Mr. Ocon, good evening. Your baby is strong and healthy, the nurse can bring her here or you can go to her. Do you want to see her?"

"Yes, Doc, a thousand times yes."

"Let the baby be brought here," y/n said softly. "I want to see them."

"Okay, then wait a bit."

The doctor left and in just a few seconds a nurse entered the room with a baby in a special transparent box.

"Will you take her in your arms?"

Esteban exhaled loudly and did not dare to look at his child. He was both ready and not ready to face this little miracle.

"If possible."

"Of course. Take off your T-shirt, it will be an important ritual in forming your bond. Hold it, just be careful."

"Of course," Esteban replied and took the baby in his arms.

She was light. Like a feather.

His heart seemed about to pop out of his chest.

The sight of her delicate, delicate features on her face filled him with awe and a sense of deep responsibility. Tears welled up in his eyes when he realized the incredible privilege granted to him — fatherhood.

His hands were shaking as he pulled her to him. When her tiny gentle warmth touched his skin, a wave of emotions overwhelmed him. In that infinitesimal moment, he felt an indissoluble bond forming, forever binding his heart to the heart of his daughter. He admired her innocence, her beautiful soul and the amazing mixture of herself and y/n that lay before him.

"Welcome to this wonderful world, my sweet Amelie," Esteban whispered, his voice full of tenderness and reverence. He admired the miracle of life and the connection he instantly felt with his daughter.

He gently cradled the newborn Amelie in his strong but gentle arms. With a soft smile on his face, he leaned a little closer and whispered to her in a soothing voice, trying not to disturb her sleep and peace.

"You are already loved more than words can express," he whispered, his voice filled with an overwhelming sense of awe and joy.

Ocon couldn't help but admire the miracle of life and the incredible journey that his daughter was going to have. He spoke softly, sharing his hopes, dreams and aspirations for her.

"I want you to know that you can become anyone. You already have my mom's strength, determination and talent to cope with any challenge that gets in your way," he muttered with unshakable faith in his voice.

He continued to share his love and admiration, his words were filled with warmth and encouragement.

"You see, my little one, life will be filled with ups and downs, triumphs and failures, but always remember that I am here for you. I will be your guiding star, your greatest support, ready to cherish every moment with you," he whispered, his voice laced with unwavering commitment.

Speaking to her, Okon could already imagine how many adventures they were going to have together. From race tracks to family gatherings and ordinary, everyday moments, he promised to be present at every stage of her life.

"And whenever the world makes you feel depressed or insecure, just know that you can always find comfort in my arms. I will hold you, comfort you and remind you of what a great girl you are," he shared, his voice filled with unconditional fatherly love.

With a gentle and loving touch, Formula 1 driver Esteban Ocon cradled his newborn daughter Amelie in his strong arms. The dimly lit room became a serene backdrop for this precious moment, when Esteban quietly whispered to his tiny bundle of joy.

"Welcome to this world, my sweet Amelie," Esteban whispered, his voice full of tenderness and reverence. He admired the miracle of life and the connection he instantly felt with his daughter. Looking into her eyes, he wondered what adventures awaited them.

"You are the most precious gift, Amelie. I promise to protect you, guide you and love you with all my heart," Esteban continued a little louder than a whisper. He knew the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, but he was determined to be the best father and role model for his little girl.

Esteban gently stroked Amelie's delicate cheek, tracing the contours of her face with his fingertips. He admired her tiny features and the perfect harmony she seemed to embody. At that moment, time stopped when he was overwhelmed by a wave of overwhelming love.

"Tu fais partie de moi, Amélie, et je fais partie de toi (You are a part of me, Amelie, and I am a part of you)," Esteban whispered, a mixture of excitement and a sense of responsibility in his voice. He was thinking about the legacy he wanted to pass on to his daughter—a legacy of perseverance, dedication and striving for a dream.

As Esteban continued to cradle his daughter, he whispered secrets about the world they would explore together, ranging from the breakneck speed of the race track to the tranquility of nature. He talked about the different cultures they would encounter, the lessons they would learn, and the memories they would create.

"You see, mon petit ange (my little angel), life is an incredible journey, and I will be by your side every step of the way," Esteban whispered, his voice a mixture of unshakable determination and deep love. He imagined the two of them overcoming difficulties, supporting each other and celebrating victories, both big and small.

While Amelie was peacefully dozing in his arms, Esteban Ocon's adoration for his daughter grew immeasurably. In that quiet moment, he knew that this bond they shared would be unbreakable.

With a final whisper, he whispered, "Amelie, my precious, you are my world, and I will love you forever."

With every whispered word, Ocon created a connection that would last a lifetime. He knew that Amelie would grow up to be as strong, resilient and determined as her father.

In that precious moment when he cradled his precious daughter and shared his heartfelt feelings, Esteban Ocon became a beacon of love, inspiration and support for his beloved Amelie.

In this hospital room, surrounded by the love of his wife and the newfound joy of his daughter's presence, Esteban realized that winning the race was just a chapter in a much grander adventure. The real victory lay in this precious family, now united by a common love that will last for their entire lives.

Cradling Amelie in his arms, Esteban Ocon felt a deep sense of gratitude for the journey that had brought him to this unusual moment. The upcoming path of a loving husband and devoted father promised countless victories, trials and unceasing love.

Esteban had forgotten that in addition to him and his daughter, there was a nurse and his wife in the room. When his gaze fell on them, the nurse was sitting on the edge of the patient's bed and handing her paper handkerchiefs with which she wiped her tears.

Looking at them, Ocon couldn't help smiling and gently, barely perceptibly, kissed his treasure on the forehead.

crying part two?

#esteban ocon #esteban ocon x reader #fatherhood #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #oneshot #formula one #family #child #popular #estie bestie #oco31 #f1 #drabble

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Seeing Red (Part II)

Part I

[A/N: Okay, wow, y'all really liked that first part 🥹 Sorry for the long wait (baby doctor, clinics, all that jazz) but I hope you enjoy!]

—————

Re-questioning the witness hadn’t quite panned out yesterday. Gibbs and DiNozzo had returned with the escort in cuffs, but she was being detained for assaulting a federal officer, not the Lance Corporal’s murder. Ziva had attempted to interrogate Tony about what went down, but received only a muffled, “Don’t wan’ talk ‘bout it,” from behind the ice pack tending to his nose.

That, of course, didn’t deter the rest of you, and the following conversation ensued:

Tim: That five-foot-nothing woman hit you hard enough to break your nose?

Tony: Oh my god, do you think it’s broken? My facial symmetry will be all off.

Ziva: McGee, you are such a male sometimes. Women are not frail beings.

Tony: Is my face still symmetrical? Can someone look? Guys?

You: Y’know, ‘you hit like a girl’ isn’t actually an insult. Wanna see? I can help you match your buddy there.

Tony: Okay, but seriously, am I still pretty? Someone tell me I’m still pretty.

Suffice to say, the case was still ongoing.

Laughing under your breath at the memory, you pour some creamer into your coffee and take a test sip, letting out a discontented grunt at the taste.

“Tough enough to threaten breaking noses but can’t handle a little bitterness?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you pointedly roll your eyes at Gibbs before directing your attention back to your brew and adding more creamer, then a packet of sugar for good measure. “You know what they say: you are what you drink. That’s why you enjoy that bitter swill, and I like my coffee extra sweet,” you respond with a smirk, turning to lean against the kitchenette counter as you stir your coffee and bat your eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

Gibbs barks out a laugh in response, then crowds into your space until he’s a mere breath away and quietly challenges, “Extra sweet, huh?”

Your lips part instinctively as his proximity to you sucks the air out of the room, and you feel your heart rate skyrocket. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not close the gap between you, to not give in and press your lips against his. Your fingers ghost over the sharp planes of his jaw, and you let out an airy, “Jethro.”

Leaning into your touch, he murmurs, “Yes, Y/N?”

You uncurl your fingers and use the flat of your hand to pat his cheek, and with a teasing lilt to your voice, question, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His eyes flash, betraying his true feelings toward your innuendo, before he collects himself and steps away from the warmth of your touch. “Get to work, Y/L/N.”

Your eyes roam across Gibbs’ broad shoulders and make their way downward as he turns on his heel and starts heading back to his desk, passing Ziva and Tony (and Tony’s big ass bandage over the bridge of his nose) on his way. Appraising the silver fox’s solid form, you run your tongue over the ridges of your teeth before quietly declaring, “Yeah, I could take him.”

Snagging the communal coffee pot from beside you, Ziva follows your line of sight and one eyebrow shoots up. An air of amusement to her voice, she asks, “You think you could take Gibbs in a fight?”

“Sure, David,” you murmur, taking a sip to hide your coy smile, “that, too.”

You push off the countertop and strut towards the bullpen, hearing Ziva’s voice behind you. “Where is she taking Gibbs? Tony? Why are you smirking like that?”

__________

It’s been several hours since your last verbal sparring session with Gibbs, you’ve been hot all day since your almost kiss, and your repetitive phone calls (“No, there’s no way Collins was having an affair,” “No, Jack didn’t have any enemies,” “Everybody loved Jack! Who could have done this?”) are really starting to piss you off. Replacing the phone in its cradle, you let out a sigh and rub your temples, speaking aloud to the NCIS agents. “I can’t find anything nefarious related to the Lance Corporal’s joint operation. We’ve got no motive, no suspects, and our only ‘witness’ was hiding in the bathroom. If only she’d gotten our killer with her fists of fury.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony grumbles, and your joke landing gets you to at least crack a smile.

“What’s the matter, Tony?” McGee fake sympathizes. “You don’t like being the punchline?”

“I’m gonna smack that smile right off your face, McGeek, I swear-”

“I’m gonna smack you all if you don’t do your damn jobs,” Gibbs barks as he rounds the corner.

You meet his steely gaze with a grin. “Tempting.”

He smooths his hand over his face, opens his mouth to respond, and then thinks better of entertaining your comment, instead turning his attention to his agents. “Somebody give me something, people, c’mon!”

“Actually, Boss,” Tim pipes up, “I think I’ve got something.” You all crowd around his desk, focused on his computer screen. “He’s been making anonymous donations to a scholarship fund for about six months. I did some digging, and it’s in honor of a seventeen year old kid named Charlie Stone who died three years ago in a hit and run accident.”

“Our Muhammad Ali in holding,” you chime in, deftly twisting away from Tony’s pinching fingers, “isn’t her last name Stone?”

“Pull up the accident report,” Gibbs orders, and Tim’s fingers fly across the keys as he inputs the information. “Witnesses report seeing a Black Chevy Silverado leaving the scene.” McGee does some more searching, pulling up DMV records for your victim.

You let out a whistle as your eyes scan the list, stopping on the vehicle Collins traded in a few years ago. “Turns out our golden boy wasn’t so golden.”

“I think it’s time we have another chat with Miss Stone.”

__________

You spot a familiar shock of silver hair rounding the corner in your peripheral vision, a triumphant smile on his face that falters at the sight of you perched on DiNozzo’s desk. Throwing your head back in laughter, you lay a hand on Tony’s upper arm, squeezing while you compliment his sense of humor. “I don’t believe you!”

He flashes you a grin and holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor, Y/L/N. Ask Gibbs!”

“I’m surprised you don’t get hit by suspects more often,” you giggle, delicately brushing your finger down his healing nose, and Tony winces playfully.

“Oh, Tony gets slapped plenty,” McGee supplies giddily. “Being punched is new for him, though.”

With a smirk, you ask, “You like getting smacked around, DiNozzo?”

Leaning closer, he lowers his voice and responds, “Maybe by a pretty- Gibbs!”

A quick glance over your shoulder has you meeting icy blue eyes, and you gasp softly. “You really need to wear a bell or something,” you mutter. “It’s scary how quiet you are.”

“If you two are finished flirting on company time-” You roll your eyes, taking note of the way his own flash in response. “I got a confession. Case closed. You can return to your coven, Y/L/N.”

“Oh, aren’t you just a riot?” you snark back. “I have my own report to write up before I can get out of your graying hair.” You hop off Tony’s desk and head to your temporary setup, settling down with the case file before you.

“Your little comments are growing old.”

“They’re not the only thing,” you huff.

Gibbs slaps the file in his hands down on his desk, the sound causing you to flinch reflexively. “You speak to Fornell like you do to me?”

“You speak to your subordinates like you do to me?”

“I-” He stops short suddenly, keenly aware of three pairs of eyes darting back and forth, eating up your ping-pong match of thinly veiled insults. Clearing his throat, his next words are spoken with an eerie calm. “May I speak with you in private, Y/L/N?”

“Fine,” you answer just as coldly. “Do you have an office or shall I head to the elevator?”

His jaw ticks before he grits out, “Conference room. Now.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze on your back- and roaming lower- as he climbs the stairs behind you. Stopping at the top of the staircase, he turns to his team and says, “At least pretend to be doing work, would ya?”

The door clicks shut and you turn to Gibbs, arms crossed and foot tapping. “What?”

“You-” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he shakes his head, at a loss for words. Stalking towards you, he forces you to retreat until the backs of your knees meet with the chair behind you and you drop into it. With his hands on the arm rests, he leans forward and growls, “You’re trying to force my hand.”

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you smirk and respond, “I would never do something so devious…unless it’s working.”

“You know what your problem is, Y/L/N?”

You take in a deep breath and immediately regret it, Jethro’s scent overwhelming your senses and your brain going fuzzy. Fighting through the daze, you challenge, “Besides you?”

He ignores the bait, slowly lowering into a squat so that he’s at eye level with you. Gibbs tilts his head, and the way his piercing blue eyes are analyzing you has your blood rushing in your veins, heating your skin and the traitor between your thighs. “You’re used to getting what you want. And you act like a brat when you don’t.”

“I am not acting like-” You stop short, averting your gaze. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful in front of your team.”

He tucks two fingers under your chin, guiding you back to look at him. He’s sporting a wolfish grin, and his eyes are ablaze with barely concealed hunger. “What a good girl,” he murmurs, and saliva pools in your mouth at the simple praise. “You just need some discipline.” You tamp down the urge to respond So discipline me, instead letting him lead your dance. If lines were going to be crossed, you’d rather follow in his footsteps than pull him to the other side.

Noting the change in your breathing, he brushes his thumb over your cheek and your eyes flutter closed. “Feeling calmer now?”

You drop your head into a nod, and he follows up with, “Gonna flirt with Tony some more?” This time, you shake your head, and your cheeks grow warm with shame. “Good girl,” Gibbs repeats, and you let out an involuntary little whimper.

Your eyes shoot open at the distinct sound of a door opening, worried that another NCIS agent is about to walk in and catch you in this very interesting predicament. Instead, you find yourself alone in the large conference room, the door swinging on its hinge.

“Bastard.”

[A/N... again: I try to write my fics as if they’re an episode of the show playing out, and figuring out how to write about the cases (and the inevitable plot twist in every ep) is so much fun. I hope you guys enjoy me entertaining my little crime-fiction-loving self :) Thank you for reading 🖤] ___ Tags:

@ilovemark1951

@ash-whimsicalfanfic

@thecubanator2

@ificantbringmydogimnotgoing

@kittenlittle24

@queenofthedreaming1

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@doctorwhofan24

#jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x you #jethro gibbs x y/n #jethro gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x y/n #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis gibbs #reader request #enemies to lovers #jethro gibbs x female reader #leroy jethro gibbs x female reader

[yinyangswings]

If Sabo Had a Child Part 2

Continuation from Part 1

It is close to the end of the pregnancy that Sabo has a nightmare about you. Trapped, held down, and unable to reach you. He hears you die. You and their child. The last thing he sees is your corpse before he’s consumed by fire as well. He shoots out of bed, the echoing screams and smell of burning flesh lingering even as the carnage disappears and is replaced by his room and the chill of the night air replaces the heat.  ‘It’s a dream. It was only a dream, you were fine. Asleep right next to him. It was only a dream’ He keeps repeating in his head.

He turns to where you usually sleep, only to find that you aren’t there.

You’re not there. You’re not there.

He practically flies out of the bed, stumbling as he reaches the door to the room, panic overriding everything logical in his brain. That someone, somehow, had taken you and you were in danger. You and your child (his child) are in danger. And he isn’t there to protect you both.

He’s just about to break down every door he comes across when he hears you calling out for him, but instead of screams, his name is in the form of a question. He spins around and sees you standing in the hall, confused. The direction you came from was the bathroom, so he quickly figured out where you had gone. But the panic lingers and he clings to you when you both return to your room. You’re confused, but don’t question it as he curls up around you, hand wrapped around the swell of your stomach, letting out a small laugh as the baby kicks.

Later he’ll tell you about the nightmare, later you both will have a conversation about it. Later…but not now.

He makes a promise to himself to never lose you or the baby. Anyone who wishes harm to either of you will face his wrath. And nothing will stop him.

When the day arrives, you are in excruciating pain and cursing Sabo within an inch of his life. Like the dutiful lover he is, he lets you curse his very existence and hold his hand.

Your grip on his hand is worse than his Dragon Claw, he’s sure of it, but he keeps his mouth shut about it.

And then the moment happens and you and Sabo hear that wail of an infant. The doctor happily says it’s a boy.

And for Sabo it just echoes through his head. It’s as if the world has gone silent and still.

It’s not until he feels a small weight, a squirming bundle being placed into his arms that he looks down and stares at his son (a son…he has a son). His wrinkly, and pink and he has the smallest hands and he can see strands of blond hair.

He falls in love instantly and feels tears gathering and then falling down his face.

He doesn’t know how his father could have been the way he was. The mere idea of hurting his son the way he had been hurt is unfathomable. The baby squirms, letting out a whine and panicking Sabo. Is he hurting him?

You laugh gently and calm Sabo, reminding him that he’s entered a world that is vastly different from the one he had been in for several months. He’s just overwhelmed. 

The two of you sit there for a little while, bonding with your son falling ever deeper in love with that precious little bundle safe in his father’s arms. 

A little while later you both hear arguing, and recognize the voices of Ace, Luffy, and Koala. You knew both brothers had arrived only a few hours ago, and are trying to be nice to the both of you. 

You also know both brothers have the patience of a bug. 

You sigh, but smile and tell Sabo that he better let his brothers see their nephew before they lose their minds.

Sabo agrees and within moments the other two men tumble in over one another to meet the baby. They grin happily, falling just as quickly in love with the baby as Sabo and you had. 

“He’s so…squishy looking.” and you sigh but thank Luffy regardless

“At least he takes after you in looks, Y/N” Ace teases and Sabo squeaks in indignation making you laugh loudly as he begins to argue with Ace, his son still contently in his arms. 

However, just because you have a baby, it doesn't stop either of you from your duties in the Revolutionary Army. He’s always with at least one of you while you work on your duties. 

A lot of those in the army find the little boy adorable and a breath of fresh air to all the shit they see. 

The baby boy loves his Daddy’s hat and goggles. When he was young it was the perfect thing to gnaw on, leaving baby slobber on the rim of the hat or the goggle lenses. When he’s a little older, he enjoys playing peek-a-boo with the hat and pulling on the goggles

And it’s hilarious when the baby gets distracted and lets go of those goggles, smacking Sabo in the face.

He likes smacking his tiny hand on faces, which you affectionately coin as Dragon-Claw Fist Baby Edition

Sabo absolutely loves it, and encourages it. He does have a near heart attack when the baby does it to Dragon. Thankfully the Leader of the Revolutionary Army takes it well enough.

Sometimes during meetings he finds you in the crowd with his son nestled in a sling, cradled protectively to you and he just stares, smiling gently at the two of you. His little family. Koala will occasionally have to call him multiple times to pull him out of his thoughts, much to her amusement and his embarrassment.

“I know your son is adorable. But we do need to make plans.”

“I know, I know. Sorry.”

“Are you jealous? Do you want me to go over there and snag him so you can hold him instead? Would that make you feel better?”

“Oh shut up.”

At night when Sabo checks on his son, he finds himself staring for what feels like hours as the infant sleeps peacefully in his crib. He runs his thumb over that tiny fist, smiling as those tiny fingers curl and flex at the touch, squirming in his sleep, before settling. He chuckles softly to himself, feeling his heart squeeze with affection and love for this little boy. 

‘This…this is what I’m fighting for’ He thinks to himself as he watches his son sleep, suckling a pacifier. A world for his son to be free and safe. And he’ll make it happen. 

No matter what, he’ll make it happen.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece headcanons #sabo the revolutionary #sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #portgas d. ace #monkey d. luffy #jamfics

[seraphimcollections]

gentle giant | könig x medic!reader |

chapter 4

warnings: angst! light violence, abduction, adult themes, MDNI

summary: Konig and you enjoy each other's company, with as much time you have left.

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: heyoooo! here's another addition to this series! I'm thinking about two more parts for this series so stay tuned! Thank you!

chapters: | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 |

The next few weeks happened quickly, too quickly for your liking. Every day it was the same: early morning run -- unsupervised, it was the only time of the day that you had to yourself. After that, breakfast which usually consisted of whatever rations the cooks had heated up. König would meet up with you at the cafeteria, never eating but simply wanting to be around you. From there you would hit the showers and then recede back into your office. Most of the time the other nurses would lend a hand with the occasional bruise and scrape that walked through the door, leaving you alone to do your paperwork, which never seemed to cease thanks to Price. 

“We’re on the run, how is there this much paperwork?” You ask. 

Price would shrug, “it’s for that reason that there is this much paperwork. At least it gives you something to do, aye?” 

And give you something to do it did. While you were drowning in paperwork in the mid afternoon, König would come and visit you after completing training. He would take his usual seat across from you and keep himself busy with what he could find around the office. For being assigned to babysitting duty, he didn’t look half as miserable as he should’ve been. In fact, he looked relaxed. Even so, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

“Bӓr, how can you be so calm about this?” You drop her pen to the desk. 

König stopped flipping through one of the books from the nearly vacant bookshelves, his easy gaze landing on you. 

“Hm? What’s there to be upset about?” König questioned. 

“It’s just, there’s not many people lining up to play babysitter,” You said. “Ghost would be kicking and screaming.” 

König chuckled, “they don’t know what they’re missing.”

You felt your cheeks begin to warm as you shook your head. 

“Still, there must be something you’d rather be doing.” 

König eyes squinted and you swore you saw something twinkle within those ocean eyes. The colonel chuckled as he stood to his feet, setting the book down on the desk. You lean back into your chair as König comes around the desk before standing in front of you. You gulp as he maneuvers his knee in between your legs, his hands supporting his weight on the chair’s armrest, caging you in. You’re sure your face is bright red as you look up into his eyes. 

“Well, there are a few things I can think of, Maus,” König's voice rumbles through his chest. 

You laugh, playfully hitting him in the chest, “I suppose I could squeeze in some time in my busy schedule.” 

“Du bist perfekt,” König whispers as he leans in even closer. 

You reached for his hood before hearing a knock at the door. Your head whips around to see a man standing at the door. He waved with a friendly smile. 

“Afternoon Colonel, Doctor,” the man said, “Price sent me to retrieve the colonel for a briefing. Sent me to keep watch.” 

König stood to his full menacing height as he eyed the nameless man up and down. 

“You know our names, but we don’t know yours,” König said. 

His once gentle tone was gone and replaced by a steely, authoritarian tone. The man didn’t seem deterred by König's protectiveness, his charming smile never slipped. 

“Right! Sorry, I’m Pt. Richards, I’m usually stationed in the kitchens but we’re slow right now. Price saw me heading to the yard and asked if I could come get you,” Richards said. 

You cock your head to the side, “did Cap say what it was for?” 

Richards shrugged his shoulders, “nope, but by his expression alone, it looked pretty urgent. Of course he wanted to make sure to have someone to accompany you, doctor. Think he said he’d be in his office.” 

You hummed, looking back up to König who never took his eyes away from the brunette with the sly smile. You smile reassuringly, patting König on his chest, finally gaining his gaze. 

“It’ll just be a second, it’s almost lunch time anyway. I’ll meet you at the cafeteria, same time?” You smile. 

From the look in his eyes you could tell he wasn’t convinced but couldn’t deny Price’s summons. Finally, he nodded before making his way toward the door before stopping and looking over his shoulder to you. 

“Wenn er irgendetwas versucht-”

“Ich werde ihn kastrieren, ohne Narkose,” your smile sweet. 

König couldn’t help but snicker at that before looking down at Richards who obviously was a little shorter than him. 

“Do you speak German, soldier?” he asked. 

Richards shook his head. König clamped his hand on the man’s shoulder with enough force to make the poor man jolt. 

“Good, keep an eye on her,” König said before disappearing out into the hall. 

Richards stood awkwardly in the doorway as you stood to place the file you’d been working on back into the cabinet. 

“Well, I suppose while you’re here you can make yourself useful,” you say, your back to him. “Where are you from, private?” 

“The States,” said Richards, “straight from the Pentagon.” 

Your blood went cold as your eyes widened in shock. Your eyes dart to the pair of scissors sitting on your desk before making a made dash for them. You cry out, feeling Richards slam into you, falling back on to the desk. You immediately try to get back up, only for Richards to wrap his calloused hand around your throat like it was nothing, pinning you. You growl and yelp as you flail around, kicking as much as you could. But there was no use, Richards slithered between your legs, grinning like a sadist. 

“Found you, little bird,” he chuckled darkly, his grip on your throat tightening making you gasp and cough. “You know, I thought that it was going to be harder to get to you, but I guess not even KorTac’s finest could keep you from us.” 

Tears threatened to fall from your wide eyes, your face turning a deep maroon and threatening blue. Your vision began to splotch as you watched Richard, if that was even his real name, pull a mysterious cloth from his pocket. You could do nothing but try to wiggle from his grip but to no avail. He smothered the cloth over your mouth and nose, your senses taken over by a sweet scent. Your vision began to fail, Richards splitting into two as the room slowly fell away from you. 

“N-no,” you whimpered, the tears finally falling. “König, B-Bӓr…”

“How cute,” you could hear Richards before you slipped under, “there’s no one coming to save you little bird. No one.”

↭

König nearly ran through the halls of the base on his way to Price’s office. Of course Price’s office just had to be on the complete opposite of the base. 

“This better be important,” he grumbled as he finally turned the corner to the hallway that led to Price’s office. 

He had the manners to knock, but not wait for the Captain’s say so to enter. There sat Price behind his desk, buried in paperwork similar to you, chiefing a large cigar. Price looked up from his reading and his expression made König uneasy. 

“Colonel, what brings you to my office?” Price said, rightfully confused. 

König froze in his step, brow furrowed. 

“I was told I was summoned, captain,” König said. 

Price shook his head, “by who? I didn’t send for ya.” 

König could feel his chest tighten, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. 

“A private, Richards, he came to us a-and-” 

Price could see the panic in the Austrian’s eyes and stood to his feet. 

“Son, where’s Wren?” 

König's eyes flew open when he finally connected all the dots. Without another word,. König flew out the door, sprinting down the hallway. 

“Shit!” Price cursed, following Konig out.

König charged across the base, pushing the occasional person out the way as he went. It didn’t take him long, max 2 minutes to get back to your office. The door was open as it always was as he stormed in only to come to an abrupt halt. The room was torn to pieces, chairs knocked over and papers scattered everywhere like snowflakes. Richards was gone, and so were you. 

Rage bubbled in König's chest, his shoulders heaving with every breath he took. His hands were balled into fist as he stalked over to your desk. He slammed his fist into the wood, letting out a grunt as he let his head hang low. Price rushed through the door, having brought Soap and Ghost with him, witnessing König's defeated stance. 

“She’s gone…bastard took her,” Price said through gritted teeth. 

König let out an animalistic shout as he completely flipped your desk over like it was nothing but a cardboard box. 

“Easy, soldier,” Ghost warned. 

König glared at the British man over his shoulder before shaking his head. 

“What do we do? We’re gonna get her back, right?” Soap said. 

Price nodded, approaching Konig before patting the giant on his shoulder, “we’ll get her back.” 

König could see red. 

“No matter the cost.”

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#seraphim collections #seraphim collections: gentle giant #konig x reader #mw2 #call of duty #konig #call of duty modern warfare #ghost #soap #cod mw2 #price #angst

[vay99]

Law x reader

Let me show you your heart

Anime/Manga: One Piece

Short side note, I've decided to upload my old ffs on here as well since everyone enjoys reading on different platforms and you guys seem to enjoy what I'm reading :)

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's get started then." you check a last time before starting your tattoo machine.

"How many tattoo plans do you have left?"

"None after this, I don't think I'd have space left anywhere." Law looks down on his body while you finish the first letter on his thumb.

"Neck, waist, ass-"

"What are you suggesting?" taken back by your last idea the captain squints his eyes, earning a chuckle from your end.

"Nothing, only that you've got spaces left, and you're my favorite person to tattoo~"

"How come?"

"That's my secret. But why don't you tell me what's up with the double death tattoo?"

"It's what they call me, surgeon of death, I figured that it'd look nice." he simply explains, not mentioning a deeper meaning behind it. Which you know it has.

"I'll accept that answer, for now."

Law just reacts by rolling his eyes, he's used to your antics since you've put every single tattoo on his body, which created a special bond between the two of you.

It always takes Law some time until he opens up to you during your tattoo sessions. Letting down his walls is something he still struggles with. Even with you. The only person he ever told his story.

"I was always surrounded by death, wanted to die and now... I get to decide who lives and dies. It was painful, it still is but... it's a part of me." he explains himself, right as you finish his first hand.

"So death has two meanings for you." you say as you begin with his other hand. "Once your experiences with death as a child, and second your profession as a Pirate, Doctor Captain."

"Yes."

"Babe you do know that tattoos don't replace therapy, right?" you've been calling up him that for a while now, having the antic to adress others with 'flirty' nicknames. The first time you called him Babe his face froze and a blush took over his cheeks.

"I know." he grunts, turning his head away from you.

"Law, I hope that one day you'll feel so full of life that your past turns into a scar, fully healed. No more hurting, hiding and hatred. You'll learn to love life, one day."

"And you said this doesn't replace therapy..."

"If you'd go to therapy I wouldn't have to sY this, we could plan a tattoo on your ass instead but nooo." Law chuckles at your response, watching you finish the final letter on his pinky. "All done."

Staring at his fresh tattooed knuckles Laws lips curl into a smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." you respond, cleaning the bench and tidying up the place.

On your way to the kitchen you two pass by Penguin, who immediately notices his captains new tattoo.

"I'm the surgeon of the death after all." Law explains him for the third time now.

"And yet you fight to keep every patient alive." Penguin answers.

"Ironic how life can be."

"Don't try to make it sound poetic now, you're exchanging peoples arms with legs all of the time." you join their little conversation.

"Don't forget the hearts." the surgeon chuckles. "What's with that expression?"

"Could you give me my heart so I could draw it?!??"

You've done it, you made Law malfunction like a computer that has too many tabs open. Penguin is startled as well but that's not unusual, especially compared to Law malfunctioning.

"Law? Laaaaw?" moving closer to your captain you poke his cheek.

"Uhm... are you, are you sure about that?" scratching his neck as he comes back to his senses, still taken back by your request.

"Yes, I mean, I won't die so, when else will I get the opportunity to draw my own heart?"

Following your bizarre wish Law takes your heart out of your chest. And definitely not getting distracted by your boobs at all. Nah. Even Penguin is dumbfounded by that.

"Wow, the human body is so fascinating." you express your joy over a technique that Law used to let his opponents freak out. He may have studied every part of the human body but your brain will remain a mystery to the man.

"You're not nervous at all? It's your heart in my hands after all." he voices his confusion.

"If you wanted to crush it you could've done it at any given time, we're in a submarine, there's no escape from you. I've seen Penguin and Sachi try to. I trust you Law." you reassure him, adjusting your view back on your heart.

"Countless times..."

"You never win and yet you guys still try." you pat your friends back before heading towards your room. Which is just a bed, a desk and paper, canvases, paint and brushes all over the place.

Sitting down you immediately start sketching, joining you on a chair Law watches you draw, his favorite thing to do when he wants to feel at ease.

Everyone in your crew believes you're already dating and just keep things really private. But no, Law is just a lovesick man who loves nothing more than spend time with you in comfortable silence.

A couple of days later you've finished your masterpiece, exhausted and happy you waddle over to the kitchen and sink into the big couch. Like becoming one with the soft fabric.

"Here." Bepo places a plate with food in front of you and himself.

"Bepo you're a real darling, thanks."

"You looked exhausted and food always makes me feel better so... sorry."

"You're the sweetest." you say, cheeks full of food already. "Did you drop those food plates off at my place each day?"

"No, the captain did."

You stop in your tracks. Law did what?

"Bepo? Are you sure that was Law?"

"Yes, you didn't notice because you were too hyperfocused."

"He gave me bread. He hates bread." you blink at the polar bear next to you.

"But you love bread."

"Exactly!!!!!" finishing your plate you immediately head of to find Law. You wanted to confess for a while now but you never knew if he l o v e d you or just enjoyed having you around him. But this? Law getting near bread? Voluntarily? That speaks volumes.

The second you find him he begins to talk, not giving you any time to react.

"You trusted me with your heart, now I'll trust you with mine." he casually pulls his heart out off his chest, handing it to you. "You once said that two hearts together look like the hearts people draw... if you want to you could draw ours together..." getting quite at the end of the sentence he bites his lip, unsure which words to use.

"Draw them as they belong you mean?"

Agreeing with a nod Law hides his face behind his hat, face redder than Buggys nose.

"This is the best painting request ever!"

Forgetting what you wanted to do not even minute ago you sprint into your room, carrying Laws heart with you.

Pulling out the painting you made of your own heart, where Law gladly assisted threw pulling your heart out of your rib cage, you begin to sketch your hearts together as one. Which took you one more week.

And yes Law brought you bread during that time as well.

"How do you like it?" exhausted, but happy you present your latest creation.

"It's greater than any word I could use to describe it Can I have it?"

"Of course, it was your request after all." you smile as you hand him the painting.

"This will go right above my desk." his lips curl into a heartwarming smile, a smile so gentle which you've never seen it of him before.

"This is my favorite smile of yours. Maybe you'll assist me next time threw being my model."

"Anything for you." he answers mindless, still absorbed by the canvas in front of him. And that's when you remember.

"Guess I'll start dropping by your office from now on, not to brag but this is an amazing painting." you take a few steps towards him.

"Just like the artist."

"Only because I had a great assistant." you chuckle, gently cupping his cheeks.

"Being your assistant sounds like much better job than captain and doctor." Law sighs, loosely wrapping his arms around your hips, continuingly looking up to you.

"You know you can drop by anytime when they're being too noisy. And be my model of course."

"What kind of modeling are we talking about." He raises an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips.

"I wanna paint you as I see you, a gentle soul, who cares for others more than himself. A gorgeous smile that will steal everyone's heart, because that's what you did with mine." you brush over his lips with your thumb. "But to be able to capture your lips right I need to get a better look at them."

"My lips are all yours." closing his eyes he pulls you onto his lap. You close the gap between your lips, feeling like your hearts have now become one for real. You still taste the salty rice balls he had for lunch, this would be everything you could think about from now on when you see rice balls.

*A few days later, on deck*

The submarine has submerged from the sea, landing on a tropical island. Law stands by the reling and watches the sun set.

"No better view than the sun set over the ocean, no better smell than the salty air." you smile, enjoying the wind that plays with your locks.

"(y/n), when you said you want me to love life, to let my wounds heal I thought it was impossible. But now, right here, with you, I start to understand what you mean. Thank you, for everything you've done for me."

"You've helped me heal as well Law, when you're with the right person you will heal each other, it comes naturally." leaning your head against his shoulder you keep gazing at the sun, disappearing behind the horizon.

#One piece #One piece x reader #Law x reader #Trafalgar law x reader #Trafalgar law fluff #Law fluff #one piece imagine #Someone hug this man please he needs it #one piece fluff #law fluff #trafalgar law fluff

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Across The Darkened Room {5}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader || Modern AU Summary: The Targaryen family dinner gives you a deeper insight into Aemond and why he needs the control that comes with being a dom. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, almost safe word use WC: 3.2k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six ||

You felt like a princess in the long gossamer gown made from thin layers of black lace over an emerald green shift that let the different shades shine through with each step. Aemond wore emerald cufflinks with his suit and a matching tie so that he complimented you as he stepped up behind you in the mirror. 

You turned with a frown as you found a leather patch covering his sapphire and gently traced the dragon emblem embossed into the material. “Do you always cover it when you see your family?”

“No,” he laughed softly. “Cardinal rule of fashion; blue and green must never be seen.”

That made more sense than thinking he was hiding a piece of himself. 

“Turn around,” Aemond ordered and you spun back to the mirror as he reached into his pocket to pull out a large teardrop emerald hanging on a thin gold chain. He draped the necklace around you and the gem was cool and heavy against your skin as he clasped it before letting it slip further into your cleavage. “Beautiful.”

You lifted the gem up and smiled at how the light danced off each facet before turning and wrapping your arms around his narrow waist. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he replied softly. “It has been a long time since I went to a family dinner, I don’t think I could face it alone.”

“Why’s that?” you asked but he just smiled ruefully and shook his head.

At the highest point of King’s Landing was the original Red Keep, but the red brick building had turned to ruin a long time ago and had been replaced with a modern mansion that still held the formidable presence of the old keep you had seen in museum paintings. There was even an archway that Aemond drove beneath to reach a courtyard with a beautiful fountain in the centre where a valet was waiting to take the keys to his car. 

“So this is where you grew up,” you uttered in amazement as you looked up at the towering walls. 

Aemond laced his fingers into yours and stepped towards the enormous wooden doors that swung open with the help of two footmen. He lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles as he gently murmured, “It may look nice on the outside but don’t let it fool you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the ominous tone and you wanted to ask more but he tugged your hand and towed you into the heart of the mansion. You expected to hear his family as he navigated through the halls but if anything the sounds in the home grew quieter. It wasn’t until he reached a staircase and led the way down that you voiced your concern.

“I know you grew up here, Aemond, but this place is huge. We aren’t lost are we?”

He grabbed a brass door handle and turned it with a chuckle of amusement. “I need to get a little lost before I face what’s waiting in there.”

Your lips parted to find out what he meant when he pulled you into the dimly lit room and crashed his lips to yours. You cast your arms out to stabilise you as he backed you to the wall and you found dozens of wine bottlenecks pressing into you. The breath in your lungs was lost to a blissful sigh when he grazed his teeth over your racing pulse and pulled the skirt of your dress over your hips. 

You were grateful that the doctor had given your test results yesterday as you knew for a fact there was no condom in your clutch and Aemond had left his wallet in his car. It meant there was nothing hindering him from pulling the delicate lace panties aside and filling you with his cock.

You both moaned as he hooked your leg over his hip and slipped inside you with no preparation, the sweet burn of the stretch tipping your head back with a mewling cry. The shelves rattled and the bottles tinkled with every hard thrust and you felt the bruises already forming from each cork that dug into your back. It was a far cry from the controlled sexual experience you had received so far. 

“Shhh,” he whispered as he pressed his forefinger to his lips with a smile.

Your hands roamed under Aemond’s untucked shirt and he growled as your nails clawed him closer, you were not used to being able to touch him when your hands were normally restrained. The touch seemed to unleash him as he threw his head back and fucked you harder, until the pain in your back no longer danced with pleasure and the safe word came to mind. 

Aemond froze as saw you wince and his mind came crashing back to his body, almost like he had lost himself to the feeling of being buried inside you. “Shit, shit, Sweetpea, I’m sorry,” he muttered as he pulled out and left you empty. 

He turned you around and unzipped your dress to see the many cork circles across your back. His lips were cold against the marks that were growing hotter and he kissed each one until you were squirming for more and the ebbing pain was once more pleasurable. Your hips had a mind of their own as they pushed back in search of friction. 

“Please, Aemond,” you whined.

His voice was strained as he gripped your hips and kept them from touching him as he warned you, “I’m not in control.” 

You turned and placed a hand on his chest as you looked up at his closed eye. The eye peeked open as you pushed him back to a leather chair that was tucked into the corner of the room by a tasting rack. “Then let me take control.”

He looked wary as he fell back into the seat but he let you straddle his hips and he bit his lip as you impaled yourself on his cock. You gripped the headrest beside him and rolled your hips, riding him as he held the armrests in a death grip. His nails carved half moons into the leather and you could see the strain in his whiteknuckles as he fought to keep his hands there and to not mark your skin. 

You pushed the long sleeves of your dress back and placed his hand on the soft flesh of your forearm in silent permission. His hips bucked as he drew his nails down the skin and you cried out at the bolt of lightning that slammed into your core, clenching around him. 

Your walls began to flutter as you bounced on his cock and he fought the dress away so he could press the pad of his thumb to your clit. The added pressure of his thumb was all you needed to fall over the edge when his other hand clamped over your mouth to silence the cries that erupted. 

“Fuck,” Aemond grunted as your teeth closed around his hand in the throes of your orgasm and he came with a curse, the heat of his seed filling your cunt. “You bit me.”

You dipped your head with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m used to biting leather.”

He tipped your chin back and kissed your pouting lips. “I liked it.”

After a quick trip to the bathroom to freshen up, Aemond finally led you to the large reception room where his family were gathered around a bar. There were more people than he had said there would be and you looked at him nervously, forgetting most of the names you had tried so hard to remember on the way over. 

Your own concern was lost as you saw the colour drain from his face and his graceful walk stopped midstep. A flash of some dark horror flitted across his face before all emotion was void and his fingers tightened around yours as his family turned to face him. 

“I didn’t realise he would be here,” a woman hissed as her fingers threatened to snap the stem of the crystal wine glass in her hand. “Daemon, children, let’s go.”

You looked between the woman and Aemond, recognising the familial traits in their hair and eyes. His fingers tightened around yours even more and you suppressed the groan that was building as you watched his jaw tick and his teeth clench together. 

“This is Aemond’s home, Rhaenyra, of course he would be here,” Alicent said as she stood up and reached for her son’s other hand. 

Rhaenyra turned to the large fireplace adorned by stone dragons as she spoke quietly, “It used to be mine.” She turned back with a hardness in her eyes and waved her hand to her four children and her husband standing together. “It was a mistake to come here, it’s still too soon.”

The family swept from the room and Daemon ran his hand along the suit jacket he wore. You had seen enough concealed guns in Flea Bottom to know the lines that appeared in the material were not the work of a poor seamstress. A streak of fear had you inching behind Aemond’s back and he switched hands so you could still hold him as he turned until everyone was out of sight.

The tension seemed to be released with a burst as the doors closed behind the other guests and you sagged against Aemond’s back with relief. It was short lived as he stepped aside and you were face to face with his mother. 

Your mouth was dry and you licked your lips quickly before holding your hand out to introduce yourself, “I’m -”

“I know exactly who you are,” Alicent said with a sigh. “You are the reason my son has foolishly hired a group of street criminals, from what I understand. He must care for you a great deal.”

“I tried to stop him,” you said with a grimace, “but he can be quite…”

“Stubborn?” Alicent offered with a small smile. “Yes, I know my son well. Which is why I know you must be something special, he’s never brought a girl home before.”

You looked to Aemond with a cocked brow but he just smirked and took two flutes of champagne from the sommelier that brought them over.

You looked to Aemond with a cocked brow but he just smirked and took two flutes of champagne from the sommelier that brought them over. He handed one to you without a comment and drifted off to greet his sister, his smile encouraging you as he went. 

“I’m sorry that our first meeting didn’t exactly go to plan,” Alicent said as she looked at the closed door. “Things have been strained between Aemond and his half sister for some time. I was hoping they could break bread tonight.”

“What happened between them?” you asked after taking a sip of the bitter bubbles and glancing at Aemond across the room. 

“That is not my story to tell, I’m afraid.” She placed her hand on your forearm and you almost flinched as she touched the claw marks her son had left behind. “Now if you will excuse me, I need to let the maids know to remove some place settings for dinner. I look forward to getting to know you better.”

She had barely moved two steps when a pair of familiar hands fell upon your hips and his lips pressed to the curve of your jaw with a rather sedate kiss as he whispered, “That went well.”

“Did it?” you asked nervously before turning to the butler as he rang a bell and announced dinner was ready. “I don’t think I can stomach food right now.”

Aemond’s hands travelled up your back until he reached your shoulders and massaged the tightness away. “You have to eat something, Sweetpea. I’m more than happy to find some way to entice you.”

You felt the rich timber of his voice all the way to your core and shivered at the devilish thoughts of just how he might do that. “I guess I could eat something.”

You took a seat on Aemond’s right and smiled at each of his siblings as you were officially introduced. Aegon grinned like a cheshire cat as he reached over from the other side of Aemond to shake hands. You gasped in surprise when he shoved your sleeve back and saw the four raised bumps the width of Aemond’s nails.

“My, my,” he teased as his brother pushed him back into his seat. “Not exactly the track marks I was looking for.” Aegon turned to Aemond and raised his glass. “She is addicted to something else entirely.”

“Aegon,” Alicent chided, though she sighed with the exhaustion of a mother who had been repeating herself for years. Aemond’s mother did glance back at your arms a few times with concern as you slipped your hands under the table and planted them on your lap. 

“Excuse me,” you murmured after the second course of tiny portions was cleared. Aemond rose with you but you shook your head as you assured him, “I can remember my way to the ladies, if not I have Maps on my phone.”

Helaena giggled behind her napkin and Aemond settled back in his chair but you felt his eye on you until the dining room door closed behind you.

You took your time in the bathroom, checking your makeup and delaying the inevitable, when the door opened and Alicent strolled in. She closed the door behind her and leant against it with a heavy sigh.

“Did my son do that to you?” she asked so quietly you almost couldn’t hear her and she covered her mouth with a sob. “Oh god.”

“I, I don’t know what you mean.”

She pushed off the door and pulled your sleeve back, exposing the marks as tears fell over her thick lashes. “You poor thing. Come, I’ll get you somewhere safe - away from here and him.”“No! No, that’s not necessary,” you said as you fought against the hold on your wrist. “Really, it’s not like that. He’s not abusing me.”

“I’m not blind,” she said, pointing to your arm that you had already hidden once more. “I don’t know what he’s promised you to keep quiet and I don’t care, you don’t have to live like this.”

“I know, Alicent.” You scratched your neck nervously at the thought of having to explain how you received the wounds. “It’s really not what you think. Aemond and I just get a little too passionate, if you know what I mean. He really is the kindest, most generous man I have ever met and would never do anything I didn’t want to do.”

Alicent reeled back in realisation and she clutched the medallion hanging over her chest. “Oh, oh heavens. So, you and he…I don’t need to call my contact at Women’s Refuge?”

“God no, please don’t,” you said with a laugh that eased her tension further. “I’ve never been happier than when I’m with Aemond.”

“That's a relief, though I have questions I don’t think I want to know the answers to.”

You nodded in agreement and she wiped her eyes before she opened the door just as Aemond arrived ready to knock. He looked between his mother and you twice before he dared to ask, “Everything alright?”

You didn’t trust your voice as you squeaked a ‘mhmm’ and stepped out of the bathroom, into his arms. 

“We were just getting to know one another,” Alicent said with a smile. “In fact, you should come to high tea on Sunday, it’s just us ladies and we could do with fresh blood.”

The invitation made Aemond smile so you couldn’t help but tentatively accept. “I work Sundays but I’ll see if I can get some time off.”

She seemed a little thrown that you worked a day job, as if she momentarily forgot that although you wore the designer dress and expensive necklace you were not a lady of leisure or a trust fund baby. Imposter syndrome came hurtling back as you took your seat at the table and found your appetite had evaporated like the woodsmoke that the chef had poured over the platter of cheeses.

Aemond’s hand found yours under the table and you clutched it like a life raft in the vast ocean. You only started to relax when his thumb drew soothing circles and he waved his free hand to the waiter to top up your glass.

“You’re doing great, Sweetpea. Not much longer and we can get out of here.”

—

The valet pulled around the fountain and you frowned as the night lights hit his Mercedes, something was off with the perfect paint. Only it wasn’t perfect anymore.

Murderer.

The word has been scratched deep into the paint and you gasped at the sight. Aemond had frozen in place, his eye fixed on the ruined door panel as the valet apologised profusely. He had no idea who did it or how it had happened but swore security could check the garage cameras.

“Don’t bother,” Aemond all but growled as he swiped his keys from the young man. “I know exactly who it was.”

After he closed your door he walked back around to his side, his eye boring into the word spread across his door. You tried to read the myriad of emotions that washed over his face but they were too quick to dissect. Finally, he ripped his door open and shoved the key in the ignition.

The silence was tense as he drove south of King’s Landing and along the coastal highway that led to the city of Storm’s End. After miles of winding roads you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What was that about?” you asked, but he remained quiet as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Aemond, can you please explain what happened tonight?”

His lips pressed into a thin line and you weren’t sure that he would ever give you an answer but then they parted with a deep inhale.

“The men in my family have always been competitive, even as boys. It was how I lost my eye to begin with, a play fight between children that just…escalated. I never forgave Luke for it, not entirely, but we were still family.” He sighed and pulled over at a car park to one of the many lookouts over the cliffs. “When he got his licence, I challenged him to race.”

He unbuckled his seat and stepped out into the night as you rushed around to meet him at the safety rail that was supposed to keep cars from falling over the cliff face. In the dark you couldn’t see how far down the sea was but you could hear the waves crashing upon the rocks below.

“Two adolescents with million dollar sports cars, what could possibly have gone wrong?” he asked bitterly before turning to you and pulling his eyepatch off and tossing it into the abyss. “I just wanted to win. Nobody was supposed to get hurt.”

“Oh, Aemond,” you said softly as you took his hand.

“I lost control,” he whispered to the night. “I lost control and he died because of it. My own nephew died because of me.”

You lifted his hand to your face and pressed your lips to his knuckles as you cupped his damp cheek in the other. “It was an accident, Aemond. You are not a murderer. Trust me, murderers ran the streets where I grew up and you are nothing like them. Nothing, you hear me. You are too kind and good.”

You reached into his pocket and took the keys, gripping them tighter when he reached for them. “It has been an emotional day. Please, let me drive you home. Let me take care of you.”

Click here for chapter six.

Taglist: @scxrletwitches , @shelbyteller , @girl-with-an-orange-cat , @crispmarshmallow , @itsemy01 , @boofy1998 , @wondergal2001 , @percyjacksonspeen , @ebaylee422 , @namoreno , @the-jess-life , @undeniableadrenaline , @1950schick , @dothrckis , @julczimozart , @sophiexoxsblog , @liathelioness , @natashaxhellenic , @caramelcandescence , @wooya1224 , @eralen , @thewew , @meggiemay82 , @leahjean , @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @lj127

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic

[rmoonstoner]

***

Theme

Oral - Part 2 of Masturbation

***

 Warnings:

18+, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, cream pie, bit of a finger in your butt, dirty talk, fluff.

***

Pairing:

Doctor Stephen Strange x Fem!Apprentice!Reader

***

Summary:

Stephen preforms oral on you, then he fucks you. It's short. 

***

Stephen pulled out of your mouth and you took a deep breath as strings of saliva clung to his still hard cock. He groaned and grabbed your face, leaning down to kiss you as he got on his knees. You felt him push his tongue into your mouth and he let out another low him as he tasted himself on your lips. When he pulled away, he huffed and gave you a sultry look.

"You have perfect, kissable lips, my dear." He whispered as he went back in for more.

You quivered as his hands came to rest on your thighs, his hands moving slowly towards the apex of your thighs. His tongue licked up into your mouth, twisting and dancing with yours as his hand finally came to your wet mound. His fingers quickly dipped between your pussy lips and he pushed two fingers inside of you. You gasped and arched your hips, feeling his fingers slide deeper and deeper inside of you. He moved down and nipped the crook of your neck.

"So fucking wet, princess. Can you hear it?" He husked as he pushed his fingers in nice and deep, curling them against your sweet spot and rubbing it nice and slow. You could hear the wet sounds as he worked his hand expertly. 

"Y-yes, fuck… Master…" You whined back and wrapped your arms around his neck, going to bury your face in his shoulder as you began to see stars.

"Fucking tight, too. Just like I thought…" He grunted and slipped a third finger inside of you while bringing his thumb down onto your clit. You shook for him and dug your fingers into his shoulder and his scalp, gripping his hair tightly in a fist.

"D-don't stop…" You mewled into ear and he tilted his wrist, fingers pushing harder and moving faster. His thumb worked your clit slowly, which was torture compared to his quickly moving digits.

"I want to taste you, princess, may I?" Stephen asked with a growl.

"Yes!" You whimpered back.

"Yeah?" He asked, taunting you with a good few heavy strokes to both your gspot and clit. You gushed, your vision blurring as you came.

"Yesss…Ugnnn… Fuuuck." You hissed and shook in the chair, and Stephen kept fucking you with his fingers, going slower and slower, until you caught your breath.

He didn't stop altogether, and merely moved down, kissing your neck, clavicle, and chest. He avoided your breasts, and kept going down to your center, his finger flicking every so often, his thumb matching each stroke by pushing down on your clit. You bucked as his face hovered over your pussy, his hot breath tickling your skin.

"You smell so good." He rumbled and leaned forward.

You felt his tongue caress your lips all around, then lazily replaced his thumb, rolling it over your clit. You moaned and tossed your head back, hands flying into his hair as he lapped away as slowly as he could.

"St-stephen! That feels so g-good!" You cried out as his lips slowly latched around your clit and he sucked gingerly on it while his fingers wriggled and stroked you from the inside. He grunted, bringing his other hand down and around your waist, pulling you closer as he kept sucking and licking.

"Gonna… Gonna come…" You struggled to speak, and Stephen took that as a sign to keep going.

You felt the dam break, and you shut your eyes as everything spiraled out in a splash of psychedelic colors and stars. You had never come so hard in your life, and you screamed, your voice cracking as you vibrated with pleasure. Stephen hummed and came back up, licking his lips and grinning devilishly.

"Sweet, princess… You did so well. You taste divine, and now I want to fuck you. Would that be alright?" He asked as he handed you an open bottle of ice cold water. You snatched it up and guzzled it back, then tossed the empty bottle behind you.

"Where do you want to take me?" You answered, and he chuckled darkly.

"On my desk. I want you on your back, legs on my shoulders, as I fuck into you deeply. I want to see your eyes when I break you."

He growled and moved you to the desk with his magic.

Stephen pounced on you, his hands going to your legs and gliding along your skin until he got to your knees. He hooked his elbows under them, pulling them up and over his shoulders as he rested his thick cock on your wet folds. He groaned and slid himself back forth, coating his throbbing skin with your slick.

"Stop teasing me, and put it in already!" You whined and squirmed as he licked your neck and slowly put a hand around your neck.

"I should tease you for hours. Edge you and then make you into a babbling, overstimulated mess. It would serve you right for the past several months of your teasing, but I'll be nice, and ask you..."

"What do you want?"

"Do it, then. Fuck me, Master. Fuck me and don't stop. I want you to fill me with your come, and keep fucking until you come again. I want to be nice and full." You begged and squirmed.

"Fuck… You want me to breed you?" He whispered hotly, his face looking deeply lustful.

"Yes, please!"

"Oh, princess… I'll make you my queen." Stephen growled and he pushed himself in slowly.

With every inch, you could feel him stretching you to your limits, his cock pushing and throbbing as you gasped for air. When he was fully seated within you, you could barely breathe, your hands gripping his wrists tightly.

"O-ohhh…"

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… You're perfect, and look you… You took all of me." He rumbled as he gripped your jaw and tilted your face to look at him.

"You're so big… Stephen… Ahhh…" You huffed as he leaned in and kissed you gently.

He quickly deepened the kiss and reared his hips back slowly, before slamming himself back to the hilt. You yelped into his mouth, and he pulled you closer, thrusting harder and faster.  With each hefty stroke, you felt yourself shake and quiver. He seemed to drag himself hard against your gspot,

"And you're so tight! Gods… You feel so good." Stephen groaned as he went harder, shaking his desk with each heavy thrust. You could hear skin slapping and the wet squelching of you pussy as he fucked into you nice and deep.

Stephen whispered something you couldn't quite catch, his breath hot and tingling your ear. You felt one of his hands dip between you two, while the other went back to your throat. He squeezed lightly, and you whimpered as he found your clit.

"St-stephen! Gonna… Gonna…"

"Come on my cock. Soak me, my love."

You heard him call you his love, and your heart fluttered while your pussy clenched and you came. You dug your nails into his wrists, hissing and panting as your head lulled back, thumping against the desk softly. You shook and writhed against him, feeling him dig himself deeper and deeper as you gushed and clenched all around him.

He moaned loudly and pushed in as deep as he could go, his balls resting perfectly against your ass. You felt him twitch, his cock pulsing as he shot ropes and ropes of thick come inside of you. You moaned, feeling him suddenly go harder as his face went to your neck and he sucked a mark into your skin.

"I love you… I fucking… Love you…"

He husked as he moved to your shoulder and licked and made another purple cruise appear. You whimpered and squirmed in his grasp, but he didn't stop.

"You feel so good." He grunted and reared back, hands gliding up your legs and holding your ankles tightly as his hips rocked against yours.

"So fucking wet for me… My good girl…" Stephen praised you as he shifted you to the side and moved a hand to your ass. He grinned and winked at you, before he swept some of the expelled come from your pussy and swept it over your asshole. You gasped, feeling his thumb push inwards and you started to buck against him, grinding your clit against his pelvis.

"Yeah, baby… You're mine now." Stephen grunted and bit your lower lip as he rested his forehead against yours.

"Stephen! Oh, fuck!" You were getting close again, the sensations almost too overwhelming to bear. Stephen leaned in and kissed you last time, before he roared and slammed hard and fast into you. You groaned, coming again as he held you and stirred his dick inside of you nice and hard, the head of his cock rubbing your cervix.

"I love you, Stephen…"

You groaned back, and he came again, shoving himself hard and deep as he vibrated.

"I love you, too. Come to my room. Sleep with me."

You smiled and nodded, and in an instant, you were in his bedroom, under the covers. He gave you a warm smile and kissed you softly, then he curled around you, his face nestled by the nape of your neck. You yawned and cuddled up, closing your eyes and falling asleep, with him snoring softly behind you, holding you lovingly.

You both won that night. 

***

Tags:

@battledress

#doctor strange smut #doctor stephen strange smut #stephen strange smut #doctor strange x fem!reader #doctor stephen strange x fem!reader #stephen strange x fem!reader #doctor strange x you #doctor stephen strange x you #stephen strange x you #18+ fanfic #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #spider-man 2099 smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader

[scaramouche-bully]

— ☆ Amore mio aiutami

Includes: Dottore and Omega Build Dottore.

Contains: Unhealthy relationships, co-dependency, implied stockholm syndrome, mentions of experimentation, medical phobia, slight yandere, improper medical treatment, obsessive + possessive behavior.

"You're childish, you set them all weeks behind schedule with your tantrums, and you hate him equally as much as he finds you irritable. But he bites down on his tongue with his opinions because Dottore is fond of you. Genuinely cares for you. For reasons that weren't built into him."

[ masterlist ]

I removed the anon ask attached to this fic because this is probably not what they were looking for. To be honest, I have no idea how I got here as well. I was just talking about how I wanted to be babied by the deranged war criminal doctor unconditionally despite the fact it would be entirely out of character. But since we don't know if the Dottore appearances are actually the original Dottore, I took massive liberties with his character in this one. I lost so much steam at the end hahh.

It starts the same way every time. You’ll make a mess, leave the lab, and refuse to take your medicine. Important papers are scattered all over the floor, shards of glass still have drops of fluorescent liquid dripping from them, and pieces of equipment are bent and broken. In the middle stand's Dottore as he mixes a small test tube of pale blue liquid in one hand, completely disregarding the state of the room. His bulky coat is missing but Dottore has long since removed any parts of his body that hinder efficiency, so the cold doesn't bother him anymore. Omega stands at the entrance of the lab, looking at the tornado that swept through the room displeased.

"I'm taking the girl didn't respond well to the treatment again?" Omega asks, quietly closing the door to not disturb the silence. There are only two reasons for the lab to be anything but organized and it's either the man himself has lost his temper or it's you. Seeing that Dottore is idly standing by, swirling a concoction that Omega recognizes as something specifically created for your illness, he can guess which assumption is correct.

"You know how she feels with anything medical-related," Dottore muses, finally placing the test tube down to scan his surroundings. "She made quite a mess this time."

Dottore's amusement in their situation adds to Omega's displeasure. Perhaps it's because he wasn't built as a replacement but as an extension in the name of progress, but for all Omega can do, he can not comprehend why Dottore keeps you around. You're childish, you set them all weeks behind schedule with your tantrums, and you hate him equally as much as he finds you irritable. When he was first created, he thought he may have been able to find some aspects of your charm but all he found was a leech. You constantly cling to the Doctor's side and give anyone else the nastiest attitude, even his segments. Especially to his segments. Although he may be biased because you seem to have a specific vendetta against him. At first, Omega assumed you were going to be used as another test subject and these were your last days of rebellion before inevitable silence. But after days turned into weeks and your presence was still here, he grew confused and confronted the original. That was the first and only time Dottore was ever livid at Omega, nearly dissembling him on the spot for even suggesting touching a hair on your pretty head. Thus he bites down on his tongue with his opinions because Dottore is fond of you. Genuinely cares for you. For reasons that weren't built into him.

"I'm going to search for her. Have someone clean up and replace the broken equipment immediately," Dottore waves dismissively, placing the test tube on the only clean surface and turning to leave.

"Yes sir," Omega bows as Dottore passes him, already anticipating the headache he'll have to endure in clean up. The blue test tube stands tall, patiently waiting.

---

You hear the door open behind you. That was a lot faster than you expected but given who Dottore is, he probably already knew where you would run to before you did. You bring your legs closer to your chest and bury your head further into your knees so you don't need to face him. You hear the quiet steps of his shoes against the floor, slow-paced and leisurely, as he enters the room and rounds the desk in his office. Before he can say anything you're throwing yourself against him and pressing your face against his stomach.

"I'm sorry," you murmur into the fabric of his shirt. Weak fist clinging onto him as you feel one of his hands come to the back of your head, softly playing with the strands of your hair. He only hums in reply, not in the least bit aggravated that you made another mess in his lab. You'll make another one in a month, apologize again, and the process will repeat again the month after that. He never gets angry, not with you. He always treats you carefully, as if one wrong touch and you'll crumble to dust. Truthfully he's right. You can't do anything without him even before your illness overtook your body completely. Before he arrived, you were struggling to do the simplest of tasks. In the region of Snezhnaya, if you weren't useful then you were discarded. Thus, your family had dropped you on the Fatui's doorstep and that's how you met the second harbinger. Scared, cold, and helpless. Not so different now years later. 

"So this is where my coat went," he says, cupping your cheeks, the pads of his fingers rubbing small circles. Your skin is cold to the touch, paler than when you threw a fit in his lab. He readjusts his coat over his shoulders that had fallen when you threw yourself at him, bringing your form closer to him in the process. "Are you finished with your tantrum my dear?"

"It wasn't a tantrum," you frown, huffing under your breath. Dottore audibly sighs before getting down on one knee. Even kneeling, Dottore is still taller than you so he can't match your lowered eye level as you loosen your hold on his waist. From this angle, he can see just how hazy your eyes have become, how hard your body needs to work to take each breath, and how you shiver even under the heavy fabrics. 

"Come now, you must take your medication or your condition will worsen,” he whispers, pushing strands of your messy hair out of your face. He’s going to have to cut your hair for you soon, he can’t see your face properly anymore. 

"I don't want to. It's...scary," your frown deepens, your fist now balling tighter in your lap trying to ground yourself down further. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your forehead against his in hopes that maybe this time, he’ll have some mercy to spare. 

"I know. But you must and you shall," he denies your unspoken hope as the reality of your situation comes bearing down. You know that you'll have to, willingly or not. It's easier to get this done and over with before Dottore loses his patience and sedates you until you're nothing but a drooling fish. You still remember the first time he did the procedure vividly. The feeling of helplessness as your body refused to cooperate with you while your mind remained conscious. You never want to experience that feeling ever again. So all you do is nod. You don’t need to look up to see his pleased smile as he takes your hand to guide you out from underneath his desk. You try and stand but a sharp pain pounds against your forehead and you stumble, Dottore already ready to catch you. He makes a noise of amusement, scoops you up into his arms, and walks out of his office. Your legs dangle around his waist, arm's clinging to his neck as you rest your head against his chest. While he doesn’t have a heartbeat, the back and forth sway lulls you into comfort as he takes you back to the lab. The noise of assistants running around, shards of glass being dusted, and the shuffling of papers greet your ears the closer you get back. As soon as the door opens and Dottore walks in, the temperature seems to drop as everyone stop's what they're doing like scared animals. They all bow their heads before quickly scampering out of the lab. All except for Omega who stands guarding the test tube Dottore left behind reading one of the discarded research reports. 

"That was shorter than expected," he tilts his head to look past his paper to see you bundled up, Dottore’s hands rubbing small circles into your back, his chin resting on top of your head. It's almost picturesque enough for Omega to gag. 

"Go away, don't you have anything better to do," you turn and glare with bitter eyes at the segment. 

Omega matches your glare despite the mask over his eyes, his tone is enough,  "Due to your mess, everything needs to be put on hold while we clean up after you.”  

"You mean like your failure in Sumeru? Oh sorry, sore spot huh? I’ll try and refrain from hurting your feelings next time.” 

"You ungrateful-"

"Enough." You both immediately quiet down at Dottore's voice. "Leave."

Omega frowns but obeys nonetheless, walking out after the rest of the staff. There’s blood sweeping into his mouth from the bite on his tongue. You wave your fingers cheekily at this retreating back and giggle when you see his frown grow deeper. Your satisfaction is short-lived when Dottore seats you down on the desk, right beside the test tube. 

"Must you always agitate my segments?" he asks although you know he’s not annoyed. If anything you think he finds it funny seeing his segments get attitude from you. "Now it’s time to be a good girl and take your medicine."

Dottore picks up the test tube, swirling its contents, almost spilling over the top as he carries it over for you to hold. Your eyes follow the specks of powder that spin and dissolve as it settles in front of your face. You gingerly raise your hands up, fingers wrapping around the tube one by one, as you stare down at the reflecting blue liquid. And there’s the ball of unease clawing into your mind. You know the various things he gives you aren’t meant to heal you. After so many years of his treatment, you haven't gotten any better. Only healthy enough to walk but not run. He knows that you know and yet he still calls it medicine. But you ignore your mind screaming at you to throw it to the ground and run away again. You know this is the last one, you've broken all the other ones, and no matter how patient Dottore is with you, this is your last chance.

And yet.

"I-I can't do it. I'm scared." you whimper, tear’s beginning to form underneath your eyelids. Your fingers shake but you don’t dare let go and accidentally drop what’s in your hands. Dottore is quick to pull you into a hug, mindful of the fragile glass tube, shushing you as your body shakes harder as you try and contain your sobs. He gently cups your face to tilt your face up to him, his other hand brushing away your tears before running his thumb over your lips. He’s waiting for you to say it. He won't move until you say it.

"Please help me."  His eyes narrow gleefully, his grip around you tightening to bruising. He needs you to say it. 

"My love."

Dottore grin's like a madman. His sharp-pointed teeth bared. He takes the test tube out of your hands, swirls it one last time, before his other hand tips, and holds your head back. You can feel the liquid flow past your lips, down your throat, and spread through your body. You're helpless but at least you won’t be conscious enough to hate it. The feeling of drowsiness overtakes your senses, weights under your eyelids that beg you to close your eyes, until your pliant in the doctor’s hands. Dottore places the test tube back onto the desk before stepping back to observe your sleeping body. It ends the same way every time. He’ll clean up the mess, carry you back to the lab, and feed you your medicine.

#tw medical #tw experimentation #tw yandere #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin dottore x reader #genshin impact dottore x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin dottore #genshin impact dottore #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin yandere #yandere x reader #yandere dottore #yandere dottore x reader #il dottore #gn reader

[guiraguira]

Hi can I request ichiro hitoya and samatoki taking care of their fem s/o when she's having period cramps?

Helping you ✨

Hello!!💕 Yes! It really seems interesting to me and I don't usually see fics or hc on this topic (at least not from the fandoms I'm a part of)

Warnings: None in particular, just comfort for menstrual pain.

Ichiro - Samatoki - Hitoya x fem reader!

Ichiro

° He knows how menstruation works and has definitely read a lot of articles online about what to do to help you if something hurts. So when he sees you lying in the fetal position he can already imagine what is happening to you. Crouching down to your height he asks what he can do for you, he wants to know specifically what you need right now.

°"S/o, do you want some medicine? Some heat? Chocolate?" He gently strokes your hair as he asks you. Whatever the answer, he will bring everything in any way and leave it at your fingertips. He constantly asks you if the pain has decreased a little or is it still the same, he does it unconsciously because it hurts him to see you like this and even though this happens every month he never gets used to it.

° It will keep you company for long hours if the pain does not decrease and no matter how much you try to push it away, you will not be able to make it go away for more than a few minutes before being by your side again.

"Don't you have a job? I'm fine" but the pain just gets stronger and causes you to twist your face while squeezing your abdomen. He leaves the room only to re-enter with a tea "they say chamomile tea is good in these cases" and without the possibility of discussion he stays by your side waiting for you to finish it.

° He tries to distract you a little by kissing your head while he chats with you and gives you his "I'm acting natural, but if you suffer I suffer" look by holding your hand throughout the process, at some point the situation seems so funny that finally You make the pain go into the background.

° Forget about crying in front of him, your crying causes him to cry too in the worst case scenario. Applying a heating pad that he bought especially for you, he adjusts it as best as possible while he holds your face in his hands.

Samatoki

° He definitely knows a thing or two about what period pain is, but he's not as sweet with his words. He expresses himself best with his actions towards you, he will be totally at your gestures and movements, at the slightest sign of discomfort he will force you to sit down so that you do not strain.

° He will definitely force you to take some medication to dull the pain if they become too intense, otherwise he will bring you blankets so you can wrap yourself as you like. He perfectly masters the art of wrapping you so that the blankets give you comfort.

"This one is very soft, it looks like a stuffed animal" you say as Samatoki spins it around you and presses it against your body. "Yes and this one is a little heavier, so I'll put it on your waist" with a relaxed and calm voice he continues adding layers of blankets while he explains the function of it to you.

° Unfortunately, he doesn't have as much time to stay next to you as he would like, so when he can, he likes to replace the hot water bottle you use with his hands and allow you to lie on him.

"This month was worse, wasn't it?" The palms of his hands lightly squeeze your abdomen as he asks you. You moan in the affirmative and he moves to cradle you more comfortably as he caresses you with his thumbs in light circles.

° He can't see a single tear on your face so if you cry from the pain he freezes in place, he will ask you a thousand times if you don't want to go to the doctor so they can give you more effective medicine. He can handle being hurt, but he can't see you hurt, and if you refuse to go he has no choice but to offer you a back massage, hoping that it will relieve some of the tension.

° He will not let you clench your teeth or bite your lips to endure the pain, he is able to put his fingers so that you bite them in his place. When you relax a little he will bring you your favorite dessert so you can keep your mouth entertained.

Hitoya

° Yes, he has the entire situation under control for you and when you are in pain he pampers you without any shame. He is even capable of leaving work halfway and picking you up wherever you are if you tell him you can't get home because of the pangs of pain.

° He will prepare a bathtub for you with hot water and various treats so that the discomfort is reduced while he sits next to you chatting with you or washing your hair.

"We could try this new shampoo, Jyushi recommended it to me for you" he spreads the product gently over your scalp, pampering you in the process. The feeling of his hands and the heat of the bathtub has a positive effect on your pain.

° No matter how much he hid it, several times he asked Jakurai for the best way to help you and sometimes, those calls were in the middle of the night while he took note of everything the doctor said. You accidentally discovered the notebook where he writes it down but you decided to keep it a secret.

° He comforts you with massages, applying the necessary pressure on your back to relieve tension. Even if you are lying on your side and as compressed as possible, he will make sure to give you a good massage session.

° He tries not to kiss you while the pain lasts because he doesn't think that will help you much, but seeing you so bad, he can't channel his feeling of compassion and support in any other way than leaving the occasional solitary kiss on your cheeks, which at times They manage to warm your heart and distract your body.

° Your tears destroy his self-control and tranquility, gently wiping them away activates his emergency protocol. He gives you medicine and holds you until you fall asleep or the pain subsides, always wiping away any tears that may continue to come.

"The pills will take effect now, yes? I promise it will happen faster than you think" his hands caress your back giving you comfort "you're doing well..." he can repeat these phrases as if they were a prayer or a lullaby, the smell of his skin gives you peace and eventually you will fall asleep.

#hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic #hypmic x reader #hypmic imagines #hypmic headcanons #hypnosis mic x reader #bad ass temple #buster bros #mad trigger crew #ichiro yamada x reader #ichiro x reader #hypmic ichiro #hypmic samatoki #samatoki x reader #hypnosis mic samatoki #samatoki aohitsugi #hitoya x reader #amaguni hitoya #hypmic hitoya #hitoya amaguni #hypnosis mic imagines #hypmic fic #hypmic fluff #hypmic fanfic

[notyour-valentine]

The Boy in the Window 20 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

[Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] [Taglists]

Chapter Summary: They say one is only as happy as ones least happy child...

Notes:  Lets find out what happened between Tommy and Charlie, shall we? I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Drug and alcohol abuse. Trauma. Suggestion of physical violence. Also dogshaming? (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 5057

Part 20

[Previously]

Needless to say, there was no rest for her that night. 

Before the children had gotten up, the doctor had come. She had seen him being rushed up to the house by Frances, only to be led to the other side of the house. 

Charlie had been deeply upset that they hadn’t left yet, only calming down when (Y/N) had sworn to him time and time again that she would not leave his side. And he took her literally on that, his hand clutching hers, and in replacement, her skirt as if she would dissolve into thin air if he let go for a single second, keeping that behaviour up for days, while refusing to go to bed unless (Y/N) joined them. 

But even if her nights were early, they stayed sleepless. 

Emma, on the other hand, took the change of scenery surprisingly well. After all, she had her mum, she had Charlie, she had Lisa, she had the horses and “the puppy”. 

The puppy wasn’t a puppy at all, and no matter how many times Emma cooed over him, stroking his fur, rubbing his ears, telling him he was the sweetest puppy in the whole wide world, it didn't make him any more attractive. 

In fact, it was the most hideous creature (Y/N) had ever seen. The dog had the colour of freshly poured whisky, apart from his pitch black ears and nose, and that reddish pink slobbering tongue which he was incapable of keeping inside his mouth. He had the rough shape of a barrel and his whole body swayed like a ship gone aground. His legs seemed far to short to carry a weight as his, a weight three times Emma’s, but it seemed her daughter was in love with the drooling beast. 

This dog was another thing Tommy had brought back without a word of warning from his holiday. Just like he had a gunshot wound. 

Of all the horrid revelations of that night, this one lingered. 

A gunshot wound was no joke, but apparently Tommy had tried his luck, which was the reason why the doctor came every single day now, always ushered in and immediately led away up stairs. 

Arrow House was a sprawling structure, with two main staircases alone.

The upper level, however, was forbidden for her, bar the part that led to Charlie’s nursery and play room, but since he was always with her, they had created a make-shift nursery downstairs.

Polly Gray’s orders kept her away, and to fulfil them she had maids sitting on chairs at the top of each and every staircase to ensure the upholding of her decree. 

It was as if they were guarding a treasure, but she knew the only thing they kept hidden from her was the truth of Tommy’s condition. 

She had half thought Frances’ words were a lie, but the doctor’s presence, and the bloody rags she saw the maids carrying day and night told another story. 

There had been orders too, that no one was to reveal anything to her, but it seemed that one cardinal rule of womanhood still applied. 

Whether it were in the small narrow spaces of Small Heath, those with large wooden tables in the farm houses or in the practically gigantic ones in Arrow House, the kitchen still remained a place of truth. 

And she frequented it often with the children, she picked up on things, on whispers in corridors, on rumours and more. 

As someone who had been overlooked for most her life, deemed unimportant and inconsequential, she was very good at being invisible. 

Tommy had returned from his holiday, which included a stay in a hospital, with a dog and a gunshot wound. He had locked himself away and been drinking so much they ran out of gin, but it would take a while for the house of Tommy Shelby to run out of whisky and rum too, so he had changed the colour of what he was poisoning himself with. 

Food returned mainly untouched, apparently replaced by cigarettes. Once he had fallen asleep and a pillow on his sofa had caught fire. That was the only time the maids were allowed to enter. Otherwise it was just Frances. More than once they had woken to find him lying on his back in the garden, at least one bottle close by. 

But he had been smoking more than cigarettes too, opium- some chauffeur had explained to one of the younger maids, probably to show off. And the doctor had given him morphine recently, to force his body into rest so that his fevering wound could heal.

All these things, she pieced together from whispers, rumours and fragments of conversations that died or were shushed as soon as she came near. 

(Y/N) wasn’t allowed to see him, to go anywhere near him, but even then she wouldn’t have been able to speak to him, so far gone was he still. 

When she had confronted Frances a second time, she hadn’t denied any of it. 

She had only assured her that they had taken good care of Charlie and kept him away from it, but whenever (Y/N) looked at the boy and felt his hands and eyes always searching for her, she knew they had failed.

While she did not know what Charlie had seen, he had seen too much. 

As he was far more comfortable outside of the house than inside, they spent most of the day in the gardens, but inside, Charlie was clingy and needy and drowning in his own thoughts. 

It wasn’t lost on her that while Emma played with Cyril the “puppy” or with the doll house or the other games, he was always clutching the fairy tale book, always staring at the same page. 

Crouching down next to him, she stroked over his hair. 

“Do you want me to read to you?”, she asked with a bright, cheery tone. 

Charlie shook his head, staring at the illustration. 

It was from Hansel and Gretel, showing the two children walking down the forest path, a loaf of bread in the boy’s hand, a trail of crumbs behind them. 

Always that page. 

“Why are you looking at the picture Charlie?”, she asked. 

He took a deep breath and snapped it shut, before dropping the book to the side and climbing into her arms, locking them behind her neck and pulling her close. 

She held him as long as he needed to be held. 

And yet after a day meeting Barbara and her boys at the green with a picnic basket, which both children enjoyed, she found him clutching the same book, staring at the same page, once he was out of the bath. 

Her heart thundered as she sat down next to him, watching him trace his fingers over the image of the two children. 

"What are you thinking, Charlie?", She asked. 

"That he's stupid.", He hissed under his breath, the amount of anger in his voice unusual for such a gentle child. 

"I think it's quite clever.", she argued cautiously, "trying to lay a path back home, even if it's just bread."

Charlie shook his head. 

"He's stupid.", Charlie repeated, his eyes flashing. 

"Why would you say that?", (Y/N) asked cautiously, her hand finding his arm. 

"He knows his father wants to leave him in the woods and he's stupid enough to go."

Her blood ran cold as her eyes were glued to him. 

"If he were clever, he'd have taken Gretel and run far away before his father could take them out into the forest to leave them there."

His tone betrayed him. 

This was about more than just the fairy tale, but when she asked if that was why he stole the pony, he tossed the book away and snuggled close to her again. 

She couldn't have asked for stronger confirmation, even if it left her with a world of questions. 

"Oh Charlie.", She sighed softly, stroking the back of his head. 

For a split second she feared he would pull away, but instead he only came closer. 

It was a long while before he gathered the courage to let go. 

~

Charlie's words haunted her more than any regret ever had. They made her blood run cold and the hairs on the back of her head stand. 

He was hurting. She could see it, sense it and feel it. 

There was the way his head snapped up every time someone opened the door. 

There was the way he clung to her in the night and the way he'd refuse to go upstairs. 

There was the way he only truly played when he was outside and the way he would stare at his father's many portraits with wide shining eyes. 

And then there was his silence, that agonizing, suffocating silence. 

It was draining him and it was draining her in turn. 

She did not know the cause of his sadness, but she felt it in her bones like it was her own. 

And nothing brought her even the slightest bit of joy, not even the things that delighted Emma, so long as Charlie was still sad. 

They were happy when together, as long as they were outside in the fresh air, with the horses during their riding lessons, but even then she could feel it radiating from him.

And she liked watching them, even if seeing little Charlie on such a big horse and her own darling Emma all the way up on a pony set her teeth on edge. 

But it also gave her the opportunity to talk to Frances without the children hearing and without Charlie getting anxious. 

And so she was glad when she saw the woman make her way over the green to where she watched the children. 

“You wanted to see me, Mrs Hale.”, she said politely. 

“How’s Tommy?”, she asked, knowing she wouldn’t get a proper answer. 

“Better.”, Frances said, watching her closely. 

“Tell me what you see.”

The cleared her throat and frowned as she followed her eyes. 

“Well, it’s Master Charles and Miss Emma, Ma’am. They’re riding.”

She was unable to keep the dubious tone from slipping through. 

(Y/N) nodded. 

“And how do they look?”, she asked, her brows furrowed. 

“Miss Emma looks very concentrated.”, Frances admitted with a hint of amusement. “She seems to take it very seriously.”

That made her lip twitch with the beginning of a proud smile. 

“And Charlie?”

“Master Charles looks…I don’t know how to say.”

Me too. 

He was looking at the horse, or at Emma, with great care, occasionally patting the animal in praise. In a way, he looked as if he was focussed and lost in thought at the same time, as if his mind was somewhere else. 

“You see it too, don’t you?”, she asked Frances. “You see he’s hurting.”

After all, the woman had cared for him for longer than (Y/N) had done, and not only in the way of performing chores. 

Frances nodded with a sigh and she saw the regret on her face.

“I want to protect him.”, she told Frances. “I want to make sure that whatever hurt him  will never happen again.”

She did not make this vow in a church, guided along by a priest, but she needed none of that to make it a holy oath. 

“Of course, Mrs Hale.”, Frances said. 

“So you understand I need to know what happened.”

She sighed and shifted as if (Y/N) had struck her, and in a way she had. 

Frances was loyal to the master of the house, but (Y/N) also knew she wanted the best for Charlie. 

For a while she could see the divided loyalties waging war inside her until she sighed. 

“Mr Shelby’s been in a bad way.”, she said. “His wound caused a fever, but he refused a doctor. He only drank and…other things.”

Opium. 

Still,  (Y/N) made sure not to let her emotions betray her as she just continued looking at the two children in the paddock riding in circles. 

“There was an incident with a maid. She had been rather close with Mr Shelby before he left for Birmingham and, well, she-”

Frances sighed, “I think she wanted to rekindle whatever they had.”

With pursed lips, (Y/N) nodded, beckoning her to continue. 

“And, well, Mr. Sheby didn’t take too kindly to that. There was a lot of shouting and he threw a bottle - not at her,”, she was quick to add, “but at the wall opposite her. Since then only I entered the office or his bedroom for safety reasons. A lot of the maids are rather young and inexperienced with matters like these.”

(Y/N) didn’t ask just how one got experience in matters like these, if that were even possible. 

“One evening when it was bad, Mr Shelby caused quite an amount of noise and hurt himself, so I went to fetch some bandages.”, she said, swallowing hard before she could continue. “And when I returned, Master Charles, even though he was supposed to be in bed, had entered the study. He didn’t touch him or speak to him, but he saw the state of his father, even if for just a moment.”

Frances shuddered at the memory and apologised profusely, but (Y/N) knew that that wouldn’t be it, as tragic as it sounded. 

Something was missing, something Frances did not know. 

And that unnerved her even more. 

~

She knew she had to pick her time carefully. 

It was a delicate matter handling a broken heart of any kind, especially that of a child. She needed to know, but at the same time she feared she could push too far and hurt him even more, and she’d never forgive herself if that happened. 

Both children still slept in one bed with her, even after all these nights and the daily offers for them to return to their own beds. 

Charlie didn’t want to leave her side, especially at night and Emma simply didn’t want to feel left out and so she went to bed with a child in each arm, sometimes with two heads resting on her chest, snoozing off to the sound of her singing. 

While they drifted off to sleep peacefully, it never stayed that way. 

Emma was a restless sleeper and before long she felt knees or elbows or feet prodding at her, making her turn so that she could at least shield Charlie from Emma’s knockturnal and unintended onslaught. 

But Charlie didn’t always sleep peacefully either. 

Sometimes he woke, and she would know because he’d always move closer, would always seek the warmth of her skin and softness of her body. 

When her hand found the back of his head, he realised she was awake too and looked up, pale blue eyes shining in the little light of the moon that snuck through the curtains. 

(Y/N) shifted, sitting up and leaning her back against the headboard, making sure not to wake Emma in the process. 

Charlie followed, climbing into her lap so that his chest was pressed to hers with his legs on either side of hers. 

She stroked his cheeks as she met his eyes. 

“Charlie love,”, she whispered, “please tell me what happened.”

He swallowed hard and dropped his head, leaning it against her chest. 

With a sigh, she brushed her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes and wishing on everything she could wish that he would be alright, that he would be carefree and happy again. She prayed even, for this child that had not been born form her body and yet he belonged into her arms the same way Emma did. 

He wasn’t her son, but he was her boy and the fact that he was hurting and she couldn’t kiss or sooth of comfort it away, shattered her heart. 

She’d give anything to make his pain disappear without a moment’s hesitation. 

When he spoke his voice was so soft she almost thought it was fragment of her imagination, if she hadn’t felt his breath on her chest. 

“Dad doesn’t want me anymore.”

Tilting her head forward, she bit back the desire to tell him that his father loved him. This wasn’t about her convincing him. This was about her finding out just why he felt the way he did. 

“Why do you say that?”, she asked, her lips brushing against the top of his head. 

“Cause he said.”, Charlie whispered, his fingers clutching her nightgown. 

She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around him tighter. 

“What happened, Charlie?”, she asked. 

For half an eternity, there was just silence and the sound of Emma’s peaceful breathing, while (Y/N) held her breath. 

“I know I wasn’t supposed to go.”, Charlie finally whispered. “But there was a bang and the last time there was one Dad was bleeding, so I wanted to go and make sure he was alright.”

(Y/N)’s heart sank but she dug her teeth into her lip so that she wouldn’t interrupt him, not when he was finally speaking.

“He didn’t see me at first, only when I was right next to him. He’d fallen down again and I only wanted to help him up.”

Every muscle in Charlie’s body tensed as he snuggled into her as if he wanted to become a part of her and seek cover in her embrace. 

“He said…”

He broke off, rubbed his head against her chest again and took a shaky breath. 

“Tell me.”, she whispered, her voice strained with fear. “Tell me what he said, Charlie.”

“He asked what I was doing here…if I didn’t have enough already and- and then he screamed at me to go away. He was so angry he punched the floor and then he fell again and said he never wanted to see me again.”

Charlie’s words ended in a shattering sob. 

She gripped him tightly and pulled him up until his head was against her shoulder, rocking him in her arms as his tears ran down the side of her neck and under her nightgown while hers mixed with the tears on the top of his head. 

“He doesn’t want me anymore.”, Charlie whimpered. “He doesn’t want me anymore.”

Pulling back, he stared at her out of reddened teary eyes, his shining lips quivering as his cheeks shone with tears. 

“You want me, don’t you?”, he asked, his voice faint and filled with fear. 

The fact that he was doubting even that, hurt more than any punch, any stab, and broken bone ever could. 

“Oh my love!”, she whispered, her vision blurring with tears of her own. “Of course I want you.”

She cupped his face between her hands and stroked his cheek. 

“I want you and I need you, Charlie. You’re my darling boy - forever and always!”

Before she could finish, Charlie had flung himself into her arms again, crying softly as she repeated her promise again and again, wanting to banish any doubt he would ever have from his body.

She would say it a thousand times and prove it to him a million more, every day until that knowledge would come to him as naturally and as easy as breathing, the same way it came to her. 

~

Her promise made Charlie’s heart lighter, but it weighed hers down. 

In those days of uncertainty she had thought of any possibility that might have happened, but now that she knew, it was even more unexplainable to her than the alternative. 

Tommy loved his son, she had seen it with her own eyes- how he looked at him when he thought it could be the last time, how he held him before leaving to face death, how he clung to him when he returned from battle. 

She had seen watch him play and watch him sleep, had seen him hold him, had seen him kiss him. 

(Y/N) could have understood if his state had terrified the boy. Mere mentions of it was enough to terrify her. 

She would have believed that easily, but Tommy saying things like that to his son?

Her heart ached at the thought. 

But at the same time she knew Charlie wasn’t lying. 

He still stared at the pictures of his father with that kind of heartbreak in his eyes that came from the worst, the deepest kind of rejection that only the person you loved most could cause. 

Even if he felt safer now, knowing he’d always have a place with her and Emma, but it would not heal the wound deep inside him, if anything ever could. 

Not even the children’s play could tear her from her thoughts as she watched them running around the garden behind the terrace, throwing balls for the ‘puppy’ to fetch. 

For a monstrosity of these proportions, he was incredibly agile. 

The children tried to outrace him, and they sometimes, but not always succeeded. 

She had brought them outside for a reason. 

The last few days had brought significant change and if the whispers of the maids, as well as what Lisa told her were to be believed, Tommy was finally out of bed and even walking back and forth on the upper floor. 

There was also rumours of discussions in regards to the future. 

It couldn’t not make her nervous, so she wasn’t surprised when Frances approached her. 

Since she hadn’t asked for her or for anything, she knew she had news. 

“Mr Shelby and Mrs Gray had a conversation today, in regards to you and the children.”, she began, holding her hands steady in front of her chest. 

“And?”, she asked. 

Frances swallowed hard. 

“Mr Shelby has agreed.”

“Agreed?”, she asked, crooking her brow. 

“Agreed to let you take Charlie. You and the children can return to Warburton House. There will be more money and you will get greater control over the decisions in his life, as his primary caretaker.”

A few days ago, she would have jumped up, grabbed a child on each hand and ran, but since then she had discovered the cause of Charlie’s unhappiness. 

And things had changed. 

“I want to speak to Tommy.”, she said. 

Frances shot her down straight away. 

“That won’t be possible.”

“It is possible,”, (Y/N) said sharply, “If he is capable of talking to his aunt, he can talk to me.”

“Mrs Hale-”

When she realised there was no convincing the woman, she decided to take matters into her own hands and got up, making her way inside. 

She’d find his office or his bedroom or wherever he was. It would undoubtedly be behind the grandest door at the top of the grandest staircase. 

Frances was close on her heel, calling her name, asking her to stop. 

She didn’t. 

“Mrs Hale!”, she called again as (Y/N) made her way up the staircase. 

“Mrs Hale, please!”

She caught up with her at the top of the stairs, her hand finding her arm for good measure. 

“You can’t!”, she demanded harshly, panting slightly. “Mr Shelby does not want to see you and Mrs Gray has forbidden you from being up here.”

“If there is one thing,”, (Y/N) she snarled, “that I do not care about in the slightest is what Mrs Gray has or hasn’t forbidden.”

Frances looked at her with pleading eyes, before shooing one of the maids away. 

“I will speak to Tommy.”, she announced firmly. 

“You can-”

“I will speak to him for Charlie’s sake!”

Her voice echoed off of the wooden panelling. 

“You care about him!”, she snapped at her. “You should understand.”

Her anger raised her voice beyond her control. She wasn’t screaming just yet, but speaking so loudly, Frances wouldn’t have been the only one to hear. 

“He broke his heart and I demand to know why.”

Frances’ eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

Good.

If it took some shock for the woman to understand so be it. 

“If I take him away now without an explanation, without an apology, that pain will only fester!”

Only when Frances’ hand on her wrist tightened did she realise she wasn’t looking at her, not any more, but rather over her shoulder. 

(Y/N)’s own head snapped around just in time to catch the final glimpse of him before he vanished through a door. 

For a split second she was frozen to the spot the same way Frances was, but she had come up her with one thing in mind and she refused to back down now. 

Tearing away from Frances she closed the short distance between her and the painted wooden door, twisting the cold brass to force it open. 

“Tommy!”, she called after him, seeing his figure move away from her, through this small living room of sorts. 

“Tommy!”

He didn’t stop, didn’t even flinch. 

When he slammed the door shut behind him, it nearly hit her in the face, but even if it had and shattered her nose, she wouldn’t have slowed down. 

“Tommy stop!”, she ordered, following him around a corner and into an office. 

She closed the door and twisted the door knob until the lock clicked into place, trapping her with him - or him with her.

At least they wouldn’t be disturbed by Frances of Mrs Gray or anyone else. 

Tommy heard the click too. 

He still had his back turned, staring out at his estate instead of looking at her. 

“Tommy talk to me!”, she demanded. 

He had lost weight, his once perfectly tailored undershirt hanging looser on his shoulders, no longer brushing against the lean muscle he had once had and when he had made an effort to get away from her, she had seen the slight limp on his left.

Under the baggy fabric she could see the bandage at his side. 

“Just fucking take him!”, he hissed at the window, his voice trembling. 

“He wants to go, you want to take him. Just fucking do it!”

(Y/N) shook her head, her hands coiling into fists. 

“No, not until you explain!”, she demanded. 

A shudder went through him, slumping his shoulders. 

“I thought you cared about him.”, he hissed, venom in his voice.

It was oil on her anger which she had nursed for weeks now. 

“I care about him!”, she snarled, rushing towards him and past the large mahogany desk. 

“I care about him more than I can tell and if I loved him any less I would take him away at once, but he’s hurting, Tommy. He’s hurting so badly right now and I demand to know why!”

She grabbed his shoulder, her fingers clutching his shirt as she forced him to turn. 

The sight almost made her gasp. 

He had always been pale but his skin was white and patchy. His hair, which had since the war always been shorn at the sides had grown longer than she remembered it, almost as long since before the war. It had been a while since he had seen a barber it seemed and a razor blade judging by the stubble on his chin and cheeks, but that was far from the end. 

His eyes had a reddish gleam to him, sunken and adorned with dark circles. 

His cheeks had fallen, and his already sharp cheekbones made his face resemble that of a skull more than that of a man. 

It was a terrifying sight that shook her to her core. 

Seeing her reaction, he scoffed and turned away. 

“You don’t understand.”, he muttered, reaching for his cigarettes. 

His hands shook as he reached for the matches instead of the lighter.

“You don’t fucking understand.”

She tore the cigarette from his lips and tossed it on the floor, making his shining blue eyes flash with rage. 

“No I do not understand!”, she insisted. “I do not understand how you could do that- how you could say that!”

His jaw clenched, but she was far from finished. 

“You love him!”, she cried as her eyes filled with tears of anger and shared pain. “You love that little boy more than anything and he adores and admires you-”

Her voice broke but she kept talking anyways. 

She had to. 

“How?”, she demanded to know, every word trembling.

“How could you do that to him?”

Tommy dropped his head in shame, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed as if that would somehow change the truth of his sins.

“He is your boy! How could say you never wanted to see him again?”

His eyes shot up for a fragment of a second, but not to look at her. 

Instead they glanced at the pictures that stood on his desk. 

One was of Charlie, when he was but a baby still in the arms of his unfortunate mother, but that was not the picture he was looking at, that one stood on the other side.

No, the one Tommy’s eyes had found showed his own mother with her long, thick dark curls sitting surrounded by her children. 

Arthur and Tommy, barely twelve or thirteen of age were standing behind her, as proud as princes with their longer hair and old hand me down clothes.

It had been years before Finn was born and Ada still had her own long braids and round, girlish cheeks. She was standing on one side of her mother, with her closest brother on the other side. 

He too had the round cheeks of lingering baby fat, with light blond hair and blue eyes. 

That was the one Tommy had looked at, not Arthur, not his mother or Ada. 

And that was when it hit her, clear as day. 

The fever, the drink, the opium - it would have enough to dull even the sharpest, clearest of minds, let alone that of a man deep in grief, more than enough to summon demons from the depth of even the purest soul.

A hand shot up, covering her open mouth as she clutched the edge of the table for support.

“Oh my God!”, she whispered. 

Tommy shook his head faintly, and when he lifted his gaze she could see the tears in his eyes. 

Her own tears began to run down her cheeks, unable to be held back by this realisation. 

“Tommy- you thought he was John?”

End of Part 20

~

Part 21

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!

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