#like the one about the two storms? a family talking about family and reliving the same fights over and over again and then finding new ones

[yandere-toons]

HENRY BOWERS

Platonic & Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: child abuse and neglect, strong violence, bullying, implied alcoholism, reference to divorce, emotional abuse.

PLATONIC:

As soon as his father drinks himself into unconsciousness or throws him out the door, Henry stalks down the street to where he thinks his friend might be. Explaining nothing of his sullen demeanour, he places himself in the middle of whatever they are doing, dragging them into a more private area if their current activity is too public or not to his liking. From there, the hope is that his friend will act in a way that comforts him without him having to ask for it and risk further humiliation.

There are two possible outcomes here, depending on how his friend treats him and who else gets involved. If they accept his presence without prying, Henry will shut down and remain silent for a while, riding out the emotional storm around someone he now has a reasonable chance of trusting. If they stonewall him or others interrupt, Henry will revert to his hostile bully persona and never mention the event again, as it has become a new source of shame for him.

Henry reveals a watered-down version of the truth when pressed for answers, but even then, he refuses to tell the whole story out of a desire not to relive it, not to be seen as a whiner, and not to show how profoundly it has affected him. After all, a history of cruel reactions from his father and the small-town mentality of Derry have taught him that emotional vulnerability is a dangerous mistake of the stupid and weak.

Despite this, it becomes increasingly clear that Henry is stalling for time when the subject of going home creeps up on him. He would much rather stay out all day and night with his friend and the gang, cruising town with Belch at the wheel, forgetting what awaits him when he sets foot on the family farm. But Henry knows only too well that Butch's wrath will double if he has to go looking for him.

Henry will threaten and, if sufficiently provoked, maim anyone who shows an interest in his friend. His worldview is more than a little misanthropic, as his good memories are few and far between, and his father and the community at large have taught him to hate anyone who challenges his idea of the norm. As such, he sees this as a favour to his friend, ridding them of all the scumbags who would inevitably trap them in an unwanted relationship.

But deeper down, in the places that have never quite healed, the places he never talks about, Henry is afraid of powerlessness. He despises the thought that his friend would abandon him because of someone else, as his mother did, so he does not give them that option. Anyone who tries to plant the idea in their head that they should cut ties with him, or worse, leave town, he beats as if it might save his life.

As far as Henry is concerned, no one offers a better source of companionship than he. He is fond of yelling this supposed fact and more at his friend when they refuse to drop everything and join him at a moment's notice. Seeing this as an affront to his authority as well as a personal insult, Henry cannot take it, especially when it happens in front of people, and tries to hector them into submission.

If any of Henry's accomplices disagree with his methods, none will be too honest about it. Henry displays an unabashed willingness to hurt anyone and everyone who comes between him and his friend. Other bullies have required stitches courtesy of Henry and learned to turn tail at the sight of him or them, and the last concerned citizen to intervene was left with a concussion.

Although Henry is a little more lenient with his gang, he still has rules about what kind of interactions are acceptable. Some of these rules go unspoken until one of the other boys crosses a line he did not know had been drawn. On the first day, Patrick Hockstetter lost his right to be alone with Henry's friend and incurred a death threat from Henry after Patrick made advances towards them and asked if they would like to share Henry with him.

Spending time with other people sounds like a waste of energy to Henry, but spending time with the Losers is so inexcusable that he expresses it in the only language he knows: violence. His need to anticipate his father's unstable emotions has made him sensitive to any sign of displeasure in others, which Henry receives in abundance from one of the Losers, Richie Tozier. Tozier calls him an obsessive freak when he cuts one of the kids for staring at his friend.

ROMANTIC:

His only frame of reference is his parents' disastrous marriage, now separated, and the couples at school he enjoys breaking up with shoves and jibes. Henry can be demanding in everything he asks of his partner, putting them in the untenable position of bearing the brunt of his emotional hunger. It is an overwhelming and confused mess of mixed signals and frustration that has built up over years.

Much of Henry's attention-seeking behaviour and unpredictable aggression stems from the fact that he is both ashamed of his struggles and less and less successful at repressing them. When he still tries, it manifests itself in violent outbursts and, in the context of this relationship, defensive anger when his partner does not immediately and completely fulfil his needs.

There are few things Henry would hate more than being compared to his father, so he refrains from using this level of violence with his partner. However, he retains a distinct bullheadedness in the many arguments that do break out, usually over Henry's desire for them to give up any part of their life that distracts from him.

Under no circumstances is Butch to know that Henry has a partner, let alone meet them. He would rather die than have them see what a so-called coward he becomes around his father, and the thought of them being caught in the crossfire of one of his father's explosions makes him want to stick the knife in Butch's throat a little sooner.

At the first sign of Butch's approach, Henry pulls away from his partner and tells them that if things get heated, they should go with Victor and wait for him at a distance. Victor is disturbed by Henry's extreme view of the relationship but is wise enough not to say so to his face.

Watching his partner suffer abuse at the hands of a family member ignites a rage in Henry that stems from his unfulfilled desire to take revenge on his father. He flashes back to when Butch similarly hurt him, reopening the last wound he tried to numb by avoiding his home and seeking out his partner. Every punch Henry lands, every slash with the knife, is almost like getting back at his father for all the scars he gave him.

Henry refuses to feel remorse for those he attacks, as Butch would never apologise for the damage he inflicts and once even rewarded Henry for his violent actions. After making his partner drop a science project in the hallway, the child he forced to eat dirt had it coming. The classmate who sat next to his partner at lunch - a seat reserved for Henry, regardless of whether anyone else knows it or whether he feels like taking it that day - deserved to be thrown to the floor and humiliated in a way that will haunt them forever.

Competition, real or imagined, is unforgivable and will be met with swift, if not disproportionate, retaliation. The first line of defence is a barrage of verbal abuse, escalating to physical assault unless the pest flees the scene and swears an oath never to speak to his partner again. From there, Henry will order his cohorts to hold the person still while he carves, stones, drowns and breaks whatever he finds most offensive.

Part of a community that frowns upon physical closeness between friends, Henry seeks in this relationship the emotional intimacy and affection that his father never provided. He denies having such needs when anyone suggests otherwise, insisting that he only stays with his partner for superficial reasons and would not miss them if they were to disappear one day.

Despite his claims of indifference, Henry displays a violent resentment towards those who befriend his partner, perceiving these individuals as a threat to his importance in their life. This fear speaks to his underlying insecurity of not being in control, the same insecurity that drives him to suspect the worst in people and defend or assert himself accordingly.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

#Yandere #Yandere x You #Yandere x Reader #Yandere Imagines #Yandere Headcanons #Yandere It #Yandere Henry Bowers #It x Reader #It Imagine #It 2017 x Reader #Henry Bowers x Reader #Henry Bowers #Bowers Gang #The Bowers Gang #It #It Movie #It 2017 #It Chapter One #It Stephen King #Fanfiction #Imagines #Reader Insert #Gender Neutral Reader #Yandere Writing

[dracaesusurro]

May eywa be our witness

Pairing: neteyam sully x female reader

Warning: angst, fluff, mentions of mating

Summary: part two of the last neteyam fic, Just cause his so babygurl!!!

Part three

Neytiri was furious, her eyes could split you in half, when you returned to the clan it was early mornings time, the whole family was worried sick about you two, they were relived to see you unharmed but there was still no sign of neteyam, you assumed he was calming himself at first but hours passed and your worry only grew as did the sully family’s.

Close to dawn soldiers from the front forrest sent news that neteyam has returned with his Ikran, unharmed they specified. You felt like your lungs were renewed and oxygen found its way to you once more. Thank eywa.. you were still in thought when you heard Neytiri screech loudly sprinting towards neteyam who had just jumped off his Ikran, jakes face was stone cold, yet wore years worth of disappointment and worry and anger beneath the surface. He hasn’t seen you yet, “ahhh neteyam I’m going to pluck your eyes out you foolish boy” Neytiris voice was threatening, “where have you been all this time, you might as well have ripped my heart out Ma tìrol (my son) what am I to do with you reckless-” she stopped once Jake laid a hand on her shoulder and pulled her towards him.

Neteyam’s gaze was elsewhere refusing to acknowledge the scenario before him, this is unlike him. “Boy, you listen to me I don’t want stuff like this…” jakes voice Faded out when he finally spotted you staring at the commotion. His anger towards you took the better of him, without a second thought he stormed past his father who was still lecturing him. Jake was stunned, this has never happened before yet he wasn’t going to stand being belittled by his own son.

Neytiri could tell something was hurting his sons soul, she felt his hidden pain. When Jake went to go after the boy she stopped him, “ma Jake, he is hurt, the look on his face did you see? He was hurt in here” she placed her finger on jakes heart. He was taken aback, “I will see to him, you are not exactly one to have such conversations with ma Jake” she smiled weakly and walked past him, he knew she was right but what he couldn’t figure out was what could have happened to him. He had more troubling thoughts in mind.

You sat there observing the entire scenario unable to speak out a word. What you’ve done had scarred neteyam deeply, and there was nothing you could do for the wound.

————————————————————

“Neteyam my boy?” Neytiri had followed him to the hut, his sat in the corner of the area balled up, anger, sadness and stress radiating off him. The vision before her took her back to years ago, when he was just a baby, always bearing too much on his small mind, straining his thoughts. “Talk to me boy, what’s haunting your thoughts?” She tried again, he kept up his wall.

She sat next to him with an arm placed on his back, she ran her hand up and down his spine, calming his nerves, “mama, I’m tired” His voice was so faint, it hurt her soul, “why my boy?” He lifted his head facing her with sad eyes, “I never have a choice do I? I’m told how to live my own life, I’m dads soldier, the clans puppet, no one ever listens to what I want!” She tried to understand him, there is more to his words than what his telling. “Your father is hard on you, but he loves you neteyam, very much and-” “no no, that’s not it, I’m so tired mother so tired of having my life paved out for me, am I living, or following along whatever you choose for me! When is it my turn to make a choice” he had tears escaping, the managed to get out of his grip. “Neteyam speak clearly Ma tìrol what is this really about hm?” Of course she saw right through him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to open up about this, yet she left him no choice.

“I’ve chosen my mate mama, I see her, she’s who I want. But every odd tells us it can’t be. They’ve convinced her that we can’t be together, I feel the world on my shoulders and my heart emptier than ever” His words deemed heavy on a mother heart, and she knew who his thoughts belonged to. “Ma y/n? Is she your mate?” He wasn’t surprised that she knew, “she was going to be, she gave up on me” she grabbed his face forcefully “no, no one has given up on you neteyam, you hear me, we’ll fix this, a mother knows my boy, she loves you deeply. I know it” that was enough for him to trust his mother, or hold her as an excuse for a chance at hope. Whichever it was, he had a second chance.

——————————————-

Jake had his own problems troubling his thoughts, in order to get the Metkayina clan to form an alliance with his clan he had to offer up a sacrifice, a form of bond that they can offer Eywa, he was yet to figure out how to let his family and most importantly his daughter know. She is a great warrior he thought, she would do this for her land.

You were curious as to why Jake had called an emergency meeting during the late night, it was random. But what caught your interest the most was that you were going to see him, going to be close to him, close enough to breathe the same air. Yet you felt as though you were worlds apart. “Ma Jake, what is this about?” Neytiri was the first to question as we call sat in a circle, Kiri and tuk next to me and Lo’ak and…Nete at the other end. We all looked at Jake, all attention on him.

“Y/n….my girl-” he seemed like he was still gathering his words, the meeting being about you was the last thing you expected. But the topic seemed to catch Neteyam’s interest, he looked at his father curiously. “My girl I have set for you to…you are to be the Metkayina’s leader to be’s mate, the leaders son, Aonung. You are my eldest girl and his the clans next leader in order to-” you gasped audibly, louder than you wanted to let on, Neytiri’s eyes rained with fire and all you could do was look for Neteyam’s reaction in this matter. He stared at his father eyes wide, hands in fists, knuckles turning a light blue, both Lo’ak and Neytiri noticed his fume.

“Jake what is this?! How could you not tell me this decision about our daughter!? Mother stood challenging Jake in way. He continued to stare at you only waiting for a reply, “what purpose does this serve?” You asked calmly though you hands shook wildly. “A alliance is key to the survival of all the clans across Pandora, to protect our own we need to be twice as strong as the sky demons, we need their help, and my girl I need yours” he kept his poise strong even with the eyes glaring at him at all sides of the room including his mate. Neteyam looked at you, hoping to read your reaction, silently praying you to decline his request, yell at him, say no, deny it all, say you belong to another…to him. But your face remains calm.

“My girl I won’t allow him to do this to you-”

“Neytiri this is also for the good of people you have to understand the humans won’t stop—”

“Father, I understand, this is my home, my land and my people too. I will do all that I can to help and if this is….if this….I accept.” You struggled to find your words, you wanted to seem strong and genuine but you failed as you stumbled over your words, your voice shook. Jakes face softened at your response, he seemed guilty yet grateful. Neytiri approached you kneeling in-front of you. “You shouldn’t have to do this my girl, this responsibility is too far for you to carry, it’s not fair do not accept this!” You held her hands and kissed them gently, “mama, don’t you worry, nothing makes me more proud then to help our people fight against these monsters”

You snuck a glance towards Neteyam, he looked furious, either about to explode, or beat the life out of his father. He silently spoke to you with his eyes, begged you to stop this request, but you couldn’t accept. This was a way to forget about the pain Neteyam’s absence would leave behind, duty before emotions. “How could you ask her something like this huh?” Neteyam no… “you think she could deny you, even if it’s what she wanted most. You treat us like soldiers rather than you children, we take orders from you not love, yet we live with it everyday, but to ask this…..this is….a mate is a bond for life, a ritual of love not a duty to her father or her goddamn land!” Your fathers face bore a furious look, Neytiri only pulled you into her chest cradling you. “NETEYAM, enough of this nonsense you hear me? Get yourself together..what is the matter with you boy?!” Neteyam let out a loud snarl at his father holding a threatening poise before storming out of the hut without an explanation. You were lost at bay, didn’t know what to think, so you listened to your heart and prayed that Eywa would lead you well. You got up and ran after him.

Part three up!!!! Thank you for reading ❤️

In the comments

#neteyamseries #neteyam avatar #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #neteyam x oc #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar fic #avatar the way of water #avatar #avakinlife #fanfiction

[minervadashwood]

Daryl Dixon x NB!Reader (afab, plus-size) 🏹 Daryl x Reader x Rick 🛡️

The Cop and the Criminal - Chapter 19

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Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

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Summary: A cabin in the woods, a fond memory, a drive to safety. This chapter contains: Angst, smut, regret, hope. Word count: 3.5K Note: Could not have written this chapter without the help of @green-eyedladywrites, @littlegodzilla, and @livingdeadblondequeen. Also, Daryl's attempt to find cell phone service is accurate--my parents live in a dead zone, middle of nowhere, and have had to do this on occasion.

Over and over, Daryl kept reliving the moment from yesterday. When you’d reached out to him and he’d pulled his hand away. The spark went out of your eyes, yet he didn’t stay with you. At the time, he couldn’t think straight. It was like the walls were caving in. Even your touch felt like being trapped. Yet what could he say? He could barely even get any words out, let alone try to explain something to you he himself didn’t understand. He just got like this sometimes. Like every sound too loud, every light too bright. The only way he felt better was to be alone and to separate himself from everything.

He’d gone into “his” room, and started throwing stuff into his pack. A couple of MREs, water purification tablets. If you tried to get to him, he didn’t notice. He focused on his crossbow, cleaning and oiling it; he checked all his bolts for balance and integrity. He went to sleep. Just before sunrise, he’d slipped into the nest, just enough to see you in there. You’d looked small on that big bed. He saw just your nose and eyes poking out from under the covers, but you were sound asleep.  He’d locked up the doors behind him and left.

Right now, he wished he’d done it all differently. Wished he’d been sane enough to spend the night with you, patient enough to talk things out. Hell, he should’ve checked the weather forecast. 

But he hadn’t, and now he couldn’t get to you, no matter how much he wanted to. Through the wind, rain, and lightning, he hiked to the family cabin--a one-room shack nestled in a valley, surrounded by trees and sitting on the only flat section of land for miles.

Inside, he dropped his gear and left the carcasses of two squirrels and a turkey he’d shot. His cloth poncho was soaked through, and so was most of his other clothing. The only dry parts of him were his feet. He’d spent part of his second paycheck on new winter gear, including the water-resistant footwear.

Just a bit ago, you’d connected with him through your bond, and he felt your fear and worry right away. If only he could be with you. But once he’d tried to let you know he was safe, he felt you calm down a little. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Despite the storm and the chill seeping into his bones, he couldn’t just sit down and start a fire. Guilt nagged at him. He should be with you, holding you close, huddled up in the basement of the nearest shelter and easing all your fears. 

His weatherband radio began its alert cycle again, telling him to get to a secure shelter, if not underground then in an interior room. But Daryl stepped out on the rickety porch and began to climb the knoll behind the cabin. He watched the bars on his cell phone come and go, and he paced and wandered, eyes glued to them. When at last one bar held strong, he called you, but the call didn’t go through. He yelled at the sky and was met with only wind and rain.

Then the phone vibrated, once, twice, three times. Then messages appeared on the screen, one after another. They were all from you.

“Car wouldn’t start. Going to a shelter with Rick.”

“Please stay safe.”

“I miss you.”

His hands were wrinkled from being wet for so long, yet he managed to type a hurried reply: “At cabin. I’m ok. Stay with Rick. Do what he says.”

Knowing you were with his friend had Daryl breathing a little easier. Rick would know exactly what to do. Where to take you, how to keep you calm. Rick had told him about his job as an officer, not only de-escalating situations with criminals, but taking his duty as a designated alpha seriously and professionally. If Daryl or Merle couldn’t be with you, Rick was the next best thing.

But he still wanted to be there himself. He had a half a mind to get off this mountain and go to you, even if the roads were closed and possibly flooded. 

His phone vibrated again. “I didn’t think you had service. Please stay safe!!! Stay inside, Daryl!! Promise me!””

Through your message and the bond, Daryl felt your desperation. He’d never had anyone worry about him like this. Being bonded to you had changed everything.

“Spotty service,” he typed. “Up on a hill.”

“Get back to shelter,” you sent. “I’m okay. We’re safe. Promise me you’ll stay safe too.”

He replied, “I will. Love ya.”

He frantically locked his phone and ambled down the hill. He’d never said those words out loud, but it felt right to type them. Yet, after he’d hit send, his hands started shaking.

Once he was back down in the valley where the cabin sat, he got himself inside. The wind howled and rain pounded on the little wooden structure. Still, Daryl cleaned all the animals at the basin. Then, he took all his supplies down to the little root cellar. The radio didn’t work down there, and he could forget about any phone service. But this wasn’t the first time he was alone and waiting out a storm in this little walled-in place. 

There was a thin bed mat and a musty sleeping bag piled up in a corner.  A small window near the ceiling was shut tight, but there was a vent there, too, making sure he’d get fresh air from the floor above. 

There was an old camping stove and a couple cans of propane. He’d carried down some water, too. And beer. The essentials.

Old magazines were stacked nearby, some Merle’s, some his, even some that the old man liked. If he got bored, he could read those, but for now, he sat on his makeshift bed, knees pulled up and his arms draped over them. He closed his eyes, conjuring up images of you: your smile, the way you looked in his tank tops (tight around your body, but hanging low past your hips), how you looked in the morning with your eyes puffy and hair askew.  He missed you so much it ached in his chest and stomach. Not even worry or fear now, but just the pain of your absence.

Time wore on, and he’d half fallen asleep when a memory-turned-dream took him to a different place, a different time. 

On the third day of your heat, he was dead asleep beside you. Waves had come and gone. After he’d claimed you, it all was just so much more, like his own desire got caught up in yours. There were times the two of you didn’t speak, your bodies so in sync that nothing needed to be said.

Still, both of you were exhausted. On that third day, he slowly woke up to find you already on top of him, your knees on either side of his hips, his cock buried inside you. Your breasts bounced as you moved, up and down, each descent drawing a quiet, breathy moan from your lips.

“‘Mega,” he groaned, voice rough from his dry throat. He gripped your hips and squeezed, and only then did you seem to notice him. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, voice hoarse. “Just go back to sleep…I…I couldn’t wait.”

Go back to sleep? With you riding him like a sex god?He sat up, pulling you with him so that you stayed on his cock and he could lean his back on the headboard. 

Your legs trembled, and he slid his hands along the outside of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh there. Your nipples, hard and inviting, needed his touch, he ducked his head and took one into his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue and bit it with his teeth. You moved faster, breathy moans now fully voiced, almost guttural.

Your forehead found the crook of his neck. “I didn’t expect it to be like this. Daryl, I can’t stop.”

He didn’t want you to. Each bounce sent wave after wave through him. His cock pulsed almost painfully as you moved. He couldn't remember being more exhausted, nor could he remember being this turned on. You wrapped your arms around him, surrounding him almost completely: your cunt on his cock, your body cradling his own.

He pressed his lips to your ear. “Take whatcha need, baby. Love you on my cock. Love the way you hold me.” He moved his hand from your thigh and gripped your shoulder. His thumb traced just below his mark. Your skin was raised and angry; the indentation of his bite so clear even in the dim light. His mouth left your ear and he licked the inflamed skin, soothing it, but at the same time causing you to clamp down tightly on his cock.

He wound his arms around you, hands spanning your upper back as you continued to ride him. His lips and tongue kissed and lapped at the mark, again and again, and each time you squeezed his dick and had him seeing stars. 

“Ya like that, huh?” he murmured against your skin.

“Feels so good, Alpha. Don’t stop. Please.”

With one hand, he buried his fingers in your hair, and pulled your head back so you would look at him. “I’ll always give ya what ya need. Ya know that doncha?”

You closed your eyes, moaning, getting close.

He pulled on your hair, just a little. “Answer me,” he growled.

Your eyes shot open and looked into his own. “Yes, Daryl, yes!”

With a surge of energy, he pushed himself from the headboard, making you fall back onto the mattress. He took charge, pounding into you as you stared up at him, open-mouthed and breathless.  Sweeping his thumb over his mark, he lowered himself above you, keeping his body up on one elbow. 

His face was close to yours now, your noses brushing. “Then don’ ever say sorry for takin’ whatcha need, alrigh’?”

“Okay,” you replied, your voice so firm and sure.

“Tha’s my good ‘mega,” he whispered, kissing you. With a hard thrust,  he filled you with his knot. You spasmed around his cock, and he came, too, with shallow thrusts that spurt his seed in your luscious body.

He kissed you again, gently, then he collapsed on top of you, his head resting on the bed beside yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and carded your hands through his hair.  He was asleep in seconds. When he woke later, you were still beneath him, though his cock was no longer inside you. But you held him there, one hand buried in his hair and the other holding his hand. 

He slipped out from under you, a bit of light making its way through the blackout curtains. From the kitchen he got a cold bottle of water and some cut strawberries. By the time he was back in the room, you were awake, rubbing your eyes and slouching on the middle of the bed.

“Drink,” he said, holding out the bottle.

“You too,” you murmured, but taking the water without protest. He set the bowl of strawberries next to you and went to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came out, with a washcloth. As you ate, he ran it over your thighs and around your vulva. If you felt at all like him, you’d be too tired to take a shower, but he could do this little bit to clean you up.

You pushed the bowl towards him. “Eat.”

His stomach rumbled and you grinned.

With a sigh, he complied, hanging the cloth nearby and sitting next to you. After he finished off the fruit, he got a protein bar for each of you and another water from the cooler. Moments of calm during your heat had been rare so far, so he savored the stillness.

He felt your hand on his shoulder. “You look so tired, Daryl.”

He was; he didn’t try to deny it.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve been on suppressants so long,” you went on. “It’s all so intense, so uncontrollable.”

“Hey,” he gruffed, looking at you to see you with your brow furrowed and a frown on your mouth. “I gotchu. Maybe it’s more than we expected, but not more than we can handle.”

You worried your bottom lip.

He picked up the empty containers and wrappers and tossed them in the wastebasket. Then he settled back in the nest, hauling you to him so that you were half lying on top of him.

“Ya trust me doncha?”

“Yes,” you sighed.

“We’ll get through this, you an’ me, ‘Mega. Can’t ya feel how much I want ya? How good it is to have ya takin’ my knot?”

“Daryl,” you whimpered, pressing your forehead to his chest.

“Sleep now, Bubbie,” he soothed. “You’ll get what ya need. Promise.”

Back in the cabin, Daryl curled his hands into fists. What he wouldn’t give now to just be next to you and not in this dank, dark cellar. To touch you and hold you, to wake up with you under him or over him, or just your head on his chest.

When all this was over, he would, he told himself. He’d never take that for granted again, never just leave you with barely an explanation. He knew now that would need his time alone, despite how much he loved you. But he’d do better at explaining it to you, from here on out.

Rick’s vehicle was an SUV from the sheriff’s office. It was filled with gadgets, like a car phone, a mounted laptop, switches and buttons for sirens and lights. Most concerning was the cage that separated the front from the back of the car.

You were wedged in the passenger seat, doing your best not to touch anything. You’d packed a bag, and Rick stowed it in the trunk, along with a bag of his own. You now wore a few layers of clothing. One of Daryl’s tank tops over your bra, a t-shirt of your own, a sweatshirt and your raincoat. Rain Boots and jeans made up the rest of your outfit.

Outside the car, the wind whipped everything around. Skeletal tree limbs waved to and fro. The landscaping Daryl had kept so neat was battered by the storm. You’d never seen anything like it. Nor had you ever been witness to any sort of natural disaster, especially one that would require you to go underground with complete strangers.

You trembled and held Daryl’s denim jacket to your chest. Rick started the engine, and you willed yourself not to panic. If you did, Daryl would know, and you didn’t want to worry him. In fact, you were going to do exactly as he said: stay with Rick; obey Rick.

It was a relief, you realized, to let yourself follow Daryl’s instructions. Without him here, you didn’t want Rick to leave your side. At the same time, guilt still plagued you. Was Ro right? The idea was far-fetched when he brought it up, but looking out the window as Rick drove to the highway, you started to give the notion some credence. It certainly wasn’t the end of the world, but a sudden, unseasonal hurricane had to indicate something.

Rick’s scent was all throughout the car, and unlike the other times you smelled him, you didn’t resist its influence. It felt safe, almost like home. You embraced the security the alpha and his scent provided. Grateful you were too anxious to give into your basest desires, you realized your hormones weren’t ruling over you as they sometimes did. What you needed now was just the protection and comfort of an alpha, not his kisses or his knot.

Still, your gaze wandered over to him. His hair curled at the ends, spiraling almost out of control. If it were any longer he’d be downright disheveled, but at this length, the hair made him appear rugged, just on this side of self control and decency.

He reached out and switched on a police scanner. His fingers were long and tapered, unlike Daryl’s thick ones. His hand was more slender than Daryl’s, too. You squirmsqurirmed in your seat, recalling how it felt to hold his hand, then how it felt to have his hands holding you. 

You almost jumped in your seat as the noisy scanner squelched and beeped. Voices came and went, clipped, speaking in short, clipped messages, full of numbers and jargon you didn’t understand.

After a moment, Rick turned down the scanner and said, “Sounds like folks are getting to the shelters alright. Once we get to the nearest one, I’m gonna call Lori and check on Carl. She and Shane know what to do, but I’m sure he’s scared. Stuff like this is rough for him.”  

How had that slipped your mind? Rick had a pup to look after. Yet here he was stuck with you.

You said, “Rick, you should be with your pup. Even if he’s okay, he needs his dad.”

“It’s her weekend…”

You squeezed your hands around Daryl’s jacket. “I don’t know how it all works with divorces and stuff, but surely she can make an exception.”

He ran his long fingers through his tousled hair. “The Lori I was married to would. Feels like I have no idea who she is now, what she wants or how she thinks.”

You longed to touch him, to squeeze his hand or lift the hair from his nape and thread your fingers through it. 

You said, “What if we just go wherever they are? Even if he has to stay with his mom, you can see him and be there if he needs you. There’s no rule saying we can’t do that, is there?”

You stared at him as the windshield wipers tapped rhythmically and scattered squelches sounded softly from the scanner. 

He blew out a long breath. “There’s two shelters closer than the one they’ll be at. I don’t want to keep you out in this storm longer than I have to.”

Your throat closed up, causing you to swallow thickly and take a few deep breaths. “Rick…I…” you squeezed your eyes closed and tried to get a grip. Was he thinking about you as a mate would? Or as a police officer would? Both seemed plausible, but the former was nearly unbearable to comprehend. Yet you wanted it that way. You wanted Rick to care about you as a mate would, as Daryl did.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Y’alright over there?’

You swiped at your eyes. “Yeah. I’m just worried about Daryl. And Carl. And you. I think we should go where your son is.”

“Look--”

“It’s fine, Rick. I promise. I won’t lie and say I’m not scared. But I didn’t have parents growing up, so I know what it’s like to be without them. I don’t want Carl feeling that way. Even if he has Lori and Shane, he’ll still want you there. I think that’s more important than how I feel.”

Rick felt his breath whoosh out of him. He turned the scanner completely off, finding himself almost disoriented. His eyes focused on the road, and he held tight to the steering wheel.

He wanted to touch you, so much that his palms ached to feel your skin against his. Daryl had never mentioned this part of your past; he’d only said you didn’t have any family to speak of. Rick had seen abandoned children, chaotic foster homes, apathetic adults who barely could keep a gaggle of children fed and clothed, let alone give them enough love and attention.

He imagined you small and lonely; he imagined you getting your designation and having no pack to help you through it. And yet you’d made it through such a painful childhood and become someone caring and strong. Smart, too.

The turn off for the closest shelter came and went, and he wasn’t sure who’d made that decision, you or him. Rick drove on As the miles passed, he breathed easier and loosened his grip on the steering wheel.

Eventually, he found his voice again. “Thanks, Bunny,” he told you. “You’re being real brave, and…I appreciate it.”

You cleared your throat. “It’s easy to be brave when I’m not alone. But I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. It’s not--”

“I’m glad you’re here,” he blurted. “I mean…with Daryl gone…I’m just glad I can help y’all out.”

“That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it?” you asked. From his periphery, he saw the faintest smile on your lips. “Helping people out in their time of need.”

A warmth suffused his cheeks, beneath his scruff, he turned red. “You think I became a cop for the uniform?” he deflected.

“Knowing you Southern boys, I bet it was for the big guns.”

Rick guffawed, laughing for the first time in recent memory. “Those are nice, too.”

You smiled beside him. “Bet Daryl’s guns are bigger.”

Rick grinned. “You haven’t seen mine yet. Wait until then before you make a comparison.”

“Alright, Deputy Grimes, you’re on. When all this is over, we can have a gun-measuring contest.”

“It’s a date, Bunny.”

Next chapter.

==

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[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Damaged: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

Rossi hesitantly brings all four of you along to where the kids are. It seems like they know you're coming because as soon as Rossi pulls up to the house, Connie storms out of the house to you.

"Hi, Connie. I brought the team--"

"You need to stop this."

"Excuse me?"

"We thought that if we didn't call you back the last couple times you would just give up and leave us alone."

"I know that it hurts, but I'm only trying to make sure someone pays for your parents' deaths."

"We don't care anymore. It's been twenty years. We need to be able to move past it. Please!" she begs.

"I won't bother you kids again," Rossi says, his heart breaking in two.

"You'll stop it with the gifts, too?"

Gifts?"

"What are we supposed to do with a bunch of toys? They remind us of the worst day of our lives."

"I never sent you any gifts."

"If I could maybe see these gifts, please?" you ask Connie and step forward. "I just want to get a good look at them, and then we won't bother you ever again."

Connie sighs and lets you inside the house. If this will get Rossi off her back, then she will gladly present all the toys her family has gotten. Georgie and Alicia are inside as well, but they aren't as outspoken as Connie is to other people. All three kids gather all the toys they've received and place them in the living room. There is something familiar about the stuffed animals, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Is this all of them?" Rossi asks.

"That's all we could find," Georgie says.

"We threw a lot of them away."

"I wish you would have told me about this."

"We thought you were sending them. At first we kind of liked it, and then it just became a bad reminder," Connie sighs.

"These are very cheap," you mutter, picking one up.

"Where would you even buy toys like that? Or why?"

"How did you receive them?" Rossi asks the kids.

"They were usually left on the front porch at night. Mine was found in my car this time," Connie says. "There was a pickup outside the--where I work. I always thought it was you."

"What do you remember about the pickup?"

"All I saw was the shape and the headlights."

"Morgan, obsessional crimes are your specialty. What do you make of this?" Rossi asks.

"Well, there's two kinds of obsessional offenders that would send gifts to survivors. Sadists who want to make the families keep reliving the crime, or guilt ridden offenders, desperately trying to find some type of way to apologize. Sadists usually use something they know will remind the family of the person of the crime."

"These don't look like the kind of things you would send to inflict pain on someone," you say. "My guess it's guilt ridden."

"You know, they actually look like the kind of thing a child would send," Emily states.

"It's rare, but an unsub who feels this much guilt sometimes commits the crime unintentionally. They tend to be developmentally disabled with extremely low IQs. Generally, they're physically large and they're very strong. Strong enough to hurt somebody accidentally."

"Like Lennie from Of Mice and Men," you point out.

"Usually, they're assisted by an older relative, and it's almost always a parent. This parent rationalizes that the unsub would never try to hurt anybody. See, in a lot of ways, with this type of unsub, they're sort of overgrown children. JJ, when you get Garcia on the phone, tell her we're not looking for other homicides here. Get her to look into a string of less serious offenses in this area involving children, but not necessarily children that have been injured or abused."

"Okay."

JJ walks off to the side to call Penelope.

"With an unsub like this, when they seek out children, they want to play with them. They don't really want to hurt them. It's their size. It frightens people."

"That could be the piece you were looking for," you say to Rossi. "Give me another one."

The toys definitely look and feel familiar. You grab a few of them and close your eyes so that you're focused on the energy attached to them. Flashes of different images come into your brain, but the one you're focused on is of a bigger man with a painted clown face on. This man is seen with a bunch of these toys and some carnival rides, and you open your eyes when you've figured it out.

"I see an overweight man wearing a clown mask. He was at a carnival. I used to go there all the time with my parents. They would buy them for me knowing I would stop playing with them in a day. They're scratchy and uncomfortable to sleep with. Our unsub works at a carnival, and I know he isn't dead."

"We went to a carnival the day before. It's the last thing we did as a family," Connie gasps.

"Did anything happen?"

"No, we had to leave early. There was this... clown... that made me a balloon animal." All three children's eyes snap to you, but you encourage her to continue. "It didn't even look right, but then he kind of followed me around. He didn't really do anything, but my mom got afraid, so we left."

"You never told us that," Georgie says.

"I didn't even remember it until now."

JJ comes back with Penelope on the phone for all to hear.

"Okay, crime-fighters, I got the information you were looking for, but it may lead to more questions than answers."

"What is it?"

"There are files of open petty crimes, as described, in the very area of Indiana in the last twenty years. Here's the catch: a large portion of them only occur in the last week of March and the first week of April every year. Then it gets weirder because the same kind of crimes crop up in Springfield, Illinois, for the next two weeks, and then Des Moines, Iowa, in the couple of weeks after that."

"It's a traveling carnival. It's the only thing that makes sense," you say.

"Penelope, pull permits. Find out if this carnival is still in business."

She got that information really quickly, and it's luck that the carnival's last day in town is today. When you get there, they are already taking stuff down to get ready to move to the next city. Emily and Rossi go off in search of the owner while you, Derek, and JJ wander until you find something suspicious.

"I can't believe people actually pay good money to play these fixed games," Derek scoffs.

"Men," JJ corrects. "It's not people. It's men."

"I was just about to say that," you chuckle.

"Is that a fact?"

"Only a man would waste $50 trying to win that $3 stuffed animal."

"She has a point."

"Did you two go to carnivals as a kid?"

"Every year," JJ nods.

"I still go," you shrug shamelessly.

You look around at the workers until you spot someone you've only seen in visions. It's the same man who you saw when you were holding the stuffed animal. The same overweight man with a clown face painted on him. His eyes widen when he sees you as if he knows why you're here.

"Rossi, come here," you call out, turning away from the man. Rossi jogs over to you, and when you turn to face the man again, he's gone. "I saw the unsub. It's the same man. He's here."

"I trust you. Lead the way."

You take the lead and walk through the carnival, following the scared energy of the man you saw. Everyone has their eyes on you since you've taken out your gun just in case. The energy leads you to one of their rollercoasters with a long skirt that goes all the way down to the ground. You lift up the skirt to see the man hiding inside the ride.

"FBI," you yell at him.

"Daddy!" he cries in a child-like voice.

"Get your ass out of there right now," Derek demands.

The man kept crying for his dad, even after he showed up to try and help. Emily holds him back to prevent him from getting involved.

"Don't fight, Joey! Stay down!" the father begs.

Joey is taken away by the local police once they were called, and you can just feel the relief lifted off Rossi's shoulders. Rossi wanted to visit the children once more before he left, and you decided to be with him. Everyone else will meet you at the airport so you all can take the jet home.

With the killer behind bars, Rossi can safely tell the children that they can finally move on. All three of them were ecstatic that this happened, all thanks to Rossi who didn't give up. He reaches into his pocket and retrieves the key for the house they grew up in.

"The title should be delivered in the next few days."

"You're just giving us a house?" Alicia asks.

"It's the house you grew up in. It's been kept clean and maintained. It should sell for a decent price. You'll all get a fresh start."

"You don't have to do this."

"I think your parents would have wanted you to have it."

"Thank you," Alicia and Georgie say with grateful hearts.

"You're welcome." He reaches into his pocket and takes out the charm bracelet you've seen him hold from time to time. "This belonged to your mother. Your grandmother let me hold on to it until... well... you should have them back now. Well, my team is waiting for me."

"Agent Rossi. I'd like you to keep that," Connie smiles, and the other two kids nod in agreement. "Is it okay if I call you sometime? Just to let you know how we're doing?"

"Anytime, kiddo," Rossi smiles.

You and Rossi head back to the car and get ready to go to the airport to join the others.

"The power of asking really holds value, Rossi. How does it feel knowing you found your killer?"

"You found him. I will never doubt you ever again. You are the real deal," he chuckles.

"It's okay to have doubt, Rossi. You should never be afraid to come to me for anything because I might just have the answer you're looking for," you grin.

By the time you get back to the BAU, Spencer and Hotch were already back. You greet Spencer with a kiss because you've missed him so much.

"Pretty boy. How was Connecticut?" Derek asks.

"Ultimately uneventful." He sees Rossi and straightens up. "Sir, there's somebody waiting to speak to you in your office."

You look to Rossi's office and see Kevin Lynch standing there waiting for him. You look at JJ to see a knowing smile on her face, but you're not sure why that is.

"Agent Rossi. We need to talk... about Penelope... man to man."

"Man to man," Rossi nods.

"What about Penelope?" Derek asks as Rossi joins Kevin in his office.

"I don't know," Spencer shrugs.

"Garcia and Kevin, sitting in a tree," JJ sings, and you gasp with wide eyes.

"No way. Are you serious?"

"Just when I thought nothing scandalous was ever gonna happen around here," Emily chuckles.

"Scandalous? You should have been there when Spencer I first got together," you chuckle at the memories.

"Wait, what does that mean?" Spencer asks innocently.

"Didn't you hear JJ?"

"The song meant something? No, I missed it."

"How cute is he?" you grin and wrap your arms around his neck from behind while he sits on his chair.  You lean down and kiss his neck a few times before whispering in his ear. "Kevin and Penelope are having sex."

"Are you serious?" Spencer smiles.

He tilts his head back to look at you, and you lean down and kiss him Spider-Man style.

"The only scandalous couple here is me and Spencer," you say as you pull away from him. "I could make it more interesting and leave articles of clothing here."

"Of course you would," Emily laughs and leaves.

"Are you ready to go home?" you ask Spencer and pull away from him.

"Yeah."

"Good, because I want that rematch," you grin.

"There is no formula for success except perhaps an unconditional acceptance of life and what it brings." - Arthur Rubinstein

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​��​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fan fic #series rewrite #criminal minds series rewrite #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff #cm fiction

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 15

Taglist: @stargaryenx @arrthurpendragon

Gif by: @fireandbloodsource

Cw: mentions of underage drinking and sex. Also Larys is his own warning

“She’s not worth the salt in her blood. Don’t let her get to you.” Teora says as they pack her things.

It was the most common insult in Driftmark, she isn’t worth shit, that is what it means.

But Aemma doesn’t want to talk about it.

“I want my hair braided before we go home, Princess Yekemi of Jhala is having hers done tomorrow and we thought it would be easier and less tedious if we got them done together. Do you think I can skip tomorrow morning’s services at the Sept, I want to have them done before evening.”  Aemma tries to get the topic away from last night.

“Aemma.” Teora looked at her sternly.

“Why does she get to insult me and humiliate my family whenever she wants, and I can’t do the same?” Aemma asks angry.

“Because she is the Queen Consort and her marriage makes her the fourth most powerful person in the court, we have been over this, little queen.” The septa said curtly.

It was the King.

It was the Hand.

It was the Princess of Dragonstone.

And then it was the Queen Consort.

If Alicent had been loved by her husband she would be above the King’s heir, but Viserys does not so her power is just slightly lower than mother’s.

Speaking of mothers, if Alicent were to become Queen mother, she would be higher up, but Alicent will be a Dowager Queen when the time comes. Alicent will be like a defanged snake, she can try all she can, but with no way to be considered a real threat.

A dowager has what the new King allows her to have. Visenya ruled as Maegor’s second, but even then, her power was inferior to that of Tyanna of the Tower.

A dowager may be sent away from court, and if she is still young and fertile be allowed to remarry. If she proves to be too quarrelsome, she will be shut up in a castle or motherhouse somewhere.

Alicent had burned her bridges with Aemma’s mother, gods know which motherhouse mother will send her to when the time comes.

“I want to see my sons again,” a rasping, dying voice told a Septa, “And Helaena, my sweet girl.”

Alicent is old and faded, red with fever and the Septon reads her the last rites and closed her eyes forever.

And she dies hating the color green like she hated the hand life dealt her.

Aemma drops her brush and cannot move her right hand at all. A drop fit, a minor one, but still a seizure.

“The queen will die of a winter fever; she will outlive her children. She will die as a hostage of the Crown, not a queen.” Aemma whispers to her Septa when she starts to regain use of her hand again.

She had three sons, surely it did not mean all her sons will die for treason.

“Write it down before you forget. Don’t leave anything out.” Teora orders her and fetched her journal and a pen.

“Do you think Aegon the Conqueror or Daenys the Dreamer had to put up with these, Teora?” Aemma writes it down as she is told relived hers don’t come often.

“What makes you think their visions came with drop fits?” the septa asked her.

“Just a hunch.” Aemma shrugged. “Vaegon and Rhaelle must have gotten them from someone, don’t you think?”

-----

“This is quite something.” Rhaenys said when she read the compiled list of visions her eldest granddaughter had given her.

War was coming.

The Kingdom of the Three Whores will side with the Greens and kill the heir to the Driftwood throne and future Lord of the Tides, and yet the Greens will be defeated, and his death will be avenged.

These two visions were of the future, not as close to the present as her first vision, but only a fool does not prepare for the gathering storm.

Driftmark must be secured, the Crownlands must be able to survive a siege and under no circumstances should Jacaerys be allowed to join Corlys in the Stepstones in the next year.

Jace was the only of the Strong boys who could be Lord of the Tides after him, he had been raising him as his successor since Laenor taught the boy to swim. The only one to take to the ocean as if he were a true Velaryon.

He will wed Baela once they were of age and their bloodline will be secured with a trueborn Velaryon child.

He cannot die.

Rhaenys refuses to lose another member of her family.

“Sometimes I wonder if the lord I marry will use me for my curse once he learns of it.” The girl admits.

“You have a gift, not a curse, little dragon. And the man you chose will be all you wish him to be and more, I am sure of it.” Rhaenys assured the teenage girl.

“And if he is not?” she asks, the girl who believed everything had died with Laenor. Aemma distrusts most of what she hears, a cruel fate to unleash on a child and yet, it was the only way for her to survive this deadly game they must play.

“He will know that Meleys’ teeth are as sharp as ever.”

The Red Queen was selective of her prey and how she spent her energy, but many a fool has learned Meleys is as deadly as Vhagar when she wanted.

----

“They say hair is the true crown of a woman’s beauty.” Harwin’s brother reaches out to touch one of her braids and Aemma ducks out on instinct. “I have always been fascinated by Valyrian hair, even those of the lowest caste have such fine hair”

Larys Strong had been trying to force her into conversation while Aemma and Teora had been shaking him off since they left the apartments of the Summer Island prince and his family.

It had been a bad idea to leave Ghar asleep in Helaena’s fireplace. If he was here, the Master of Whisperers would not be so bold as to approach her let alone insult Teora for being a bastard.

“In Old Valyria touching a person’s hair without their leave would result in cutting off the offending hand, Lord Strong.” Teora subtly placed herself between them should he persist in touching her hair.

Larys Strong had a natural talent for making everyone uncomfortable, especially those of the fairer sex. He was not to be trusted, Harwin had said when Larys would be around.

It was not because of his clubfoot, no, this was his unnerving obsessive nature and his staring of the Queen. Even Cole knew better than to leave his lady unattended with him.

“I apologize, your highness.” He says it but does not mean it.

“I suggest you refrain from doing so ever again, Lord Strong. I do not doubt my grandfather, the King, will give me the pleasure of having Silverwing take more than just your hand.” The princess warned.

“I have heard that she is the most docile of the dragons.” He thinks dragons are like dogs that once you train them to be obedient, they cease to be dangerous, but dragons are not dogs.

“Even the most docile of the dragons can kill a trained soldier with ease, Lord Strong. Although, it would be an insult on Queen Alysanne’s memory to give her dragon such poor fare.” Aemond comes to intimidate the Lord of Harrenhal into leaving.

He does not like him either, Aemond told her that believes him to have killed his own father and brother to take Harrenhal for himself.

Nothing more accursed than a kinslayer, especially one who used a coward’s means to commit it.

“I have learned my lesson, Prince Aemond, I shall never touch Princess Aemma’s hair without her leave.” He bows as he takes his leave.

“You need a sworn shield, if Ghar refuses to do it’s office then you must replace him with a knight to keep unwanted company away.” The prince says as he accompanied them the rest of the way.

“I will be sure to tell my mother so tomorrow, Aemond.” Aemma is unsure of how to proceed with him.

On one hand, she insulted his mother, on the other hand Alicent did insult her first.

If one does not want to be treated badly, then one shouldn’t treat others badly.

“You weren’t at the Sept this morning.” He mentions and Aemma can hear the I missed you this morning he leaves unsaid.

“Braiding take all day, if I had known you would miss me this morning, I would have sent a note.” Aemma says absentmindedly, not catching herself when says the part he didn’t say out loud.

“Helaena was looking forward to spending the morning with you.” He says as if he wasn’t just saying that so people don’t suspect.

“I will make it up to her before I leave tomorrow, would you like to join us on a morning ride? We plan to spoil our breakfast by visiting the Street of Flour.” Aemma suggests elbowing him gently, forgetting they do not do that here.

“I suppose I could go; you do not take Ser Erryk nor Ghar these days. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

Why was Aemond shy around her now? He used to be direct with her, after all they shared a wet nurse, they were closer to each other than he was with Aegon even.

What had changed?

Was it the kiss? Did he find her a bad kisser, it was their first for both of them, it wasn’t like either had something to compare it to.

She needed to ask Helaena about this.

----

“Your brother is being strange.” Aemma knows that with Hel she can be blunt and get a straight answer out of her.

She is her bedmate tonight, a sure way to keep Aegon out of her rooms. Who will protect Hel when she is gone?

Certainly not her mother.

“Aegon’s whore in the Street of Silk gave him a son. The boy is blind, but he only cares that he has proved his virility” Hel says casually as she embroidered weirwood leaves on a scene that looks too familiar to Aemma.

It’s a secret project, one she does by candlelight and moonlight. One she won’t let Aemma see.

She can’t get a good look at it and Helaena is taking great delight in not showing her this new project she has undertaken.

But she needed to change the needle and if Aemma was quick enough she could steal it from her lap and quench her curiosity.

“No, not Aegon. Aemond. He has been oddly shy around me since I came.” Aemma elaborates and steals the sampler from Helaena’s lap.

“Aegon took him to a brothel, paid for a whore that looked like you to make a man out of him.” Hel says far too casually as Aemma sees that somehow, Helaena replicated that secret kiss at the Godswood the night before her first Maiden’s Day.

This made the Velaryon Princess completely miss what her friend had said.

“Come again?” Aemma tries to pay attention to the words being spoken instead at the far too accurate details embroidered in the canvas.

“Aegon took Aemond to a brothel on his name day.” Helaena speaks of this casually baffling Aemma at how normal this seemed to her. “Aegon told me when he was drunk last night and he asked me if I had seen how shy Aemond was around you know.”

“Oh.” Aemma is shocked beyond words.

Boys were expected to have fucked a woman by the age of three and ten, girls were given a copy of the clean version of A Caution for Young Girls. You know, the memoirs of Septa Coryanne Wylde who was born a lady, became a worldly whore and then retired as a Septa in the Starry Sept.

If they were resourceful, they would find one of the many supposed real copies that even had drawings of how to fuck like the greatest whore to ever walk these lands.

Aemma knows her mother has one of those, hidden in the drawer under her bed, but she is not supposed to know that. Or have read some of it.

But reading such filth was so much more different than actually having sexual relations with someone.

“I don’t think he enjoyed it, he beat Aegon for a week and this morning when he teased him about the whore’s resemblance to you.” Helaena takes her sampler back and Aemma wonders what in the seven hells should she do with this information.

“I invited him out to ride with us tomorrow.” Aemma has no idea how this changes things.

“I will tell him to bring enough coin, the knights in the songs always pay for their lady’s purchases.” Hel resumes her embroidery as if this were the usual sort of thing they talked about. “Mother won’t like it, but I suppose the two of you could always elope.”

#aemma velaryon #asoiaf fanfic #house of the dragon #someone will remember us fic #asoiaf au #oc fanfiction #ocappreciationtag #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #fyeahhotdocs

[casspurrjoybell-25]

November - Chapter 27

*Warning Adult Content*

- Cooper -

As Cooper lay in his bunk, he turned on the satellite phone and read through the texts between and Oliver and himself.

He was almost halfway through his fishing job and reading Oliver's texts had become a routine for him.

I hiked to Marymere Falls today.

Our first hike together.

I thought of you the entire time and as soon as you're back we need to go on a hiking date. :)

We can relive our experience and maybe this time I can get to the top of Mount Storm King.

Annabelle and I baked confetti cupcakes today and frosted them with buttercream icing.

And topped them with sprinkles.

You would have loved them.

She promises that the three of us can make them again when you're back.

I love you and miss you.

"Thinking about you and your sexy ass.

I miss it so much.

I want to grab it and squeeze it and then fuck you through the bed.

I miss your bear hugs and all your cuddles in the morning.

I even miss your beard tickling my face and waking me up.

The next one was heartbreaking and most of the time Cooper skipped it.

But today he felt like torturing himself, so he read it.

Oliver had sent it five days ago, shortly after two in the morning.

I can't sleep.

I miss you so much.

The bed's too big without you and I want to feel your body pressed against mine and your arms around me.

I miss your smile and your big booming laugh and your eyes and your lips.

I'm counting down the days until you're back.

I love you more than I thought it was ever possible to love someone.

I miss you I miss you I miss you.

I can't wait until you're back home.

I love you so much.

Cooper had cried the first time he read it.

His heart ached and he could feel how much Oliver missed him because he missed him the same way.

Cooper loved deep sea fishing, being out on the ocean and all the hard work and the thrill of a great catch and he knew he didn't ever want to give it up but he had to admit it was damn hard to be away from the man he loved.

Oliver buying the satellite phone had made a big difference though.

Cooper worked long hours and had little free time but they texted all the time and he made a point to call Oliver every few days.

They couldn't talk for hours like Cooper wanted to but it helped to hear Oliver's voice and talk to him in real time.

Cooper got up from his bunk and made his way up to the deck for their call.

Sometimes it was a challenge to find a quiet place to talk where he wasn't in the way but he didn't let anything keep him from calling Oliver.

Oliver answered almost immediately.

"Hey, Coop."

"Hey, love. It's good to hear your voice," Cooper replied.

‘I would give anything for a hug from Oliver right now.’

"It's good to hear yours. I miss you. How's the weather? Are you getting enough sleep?"

Oliver always had a lot of questions about how Cooper was doing and how the job was going.

Cooper’s answers didn't vary much, so he spent most of their calls asking him what was going on back home.

Oliver had a lot more to report and Cooper enjoyed listening to him talk and letting the sound of his lover’s voice wash over him.

"You've got a short break coming up, right?" Oliver asked, after filling Cooper in on his family and a hike he'd gone on a couple days ago.

"Yep. We'll be at Dutch Harbor in Alaska for two days."

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you've probably been there before but are you going to go see anything while you're there?"

Cooper laughed.

"I'll be sleeping and eating. That's what a lot of us do. I'm looking forward to being in a real bed and having access to a nicer shower and different food."

"Are you going to have enough time to talk to me?" Oliver asked, a teasing tone to his voice.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll keep talking to you until I fall asleep on the phone."

"Okay. Text me the days and times you'll be there so I can clear my schedule. I'm really looking forward to talking to you for hours instead of minutes."

"Me too. I love you and miss you."

"I love you too. And I miss you more than I can say."

Cooper didn't want this to devolve into sadness, so he tried to end the call on a cheerful note.

"I'll be counting down the days until my break. Love you. Bye, Oliver."

Cooper hung up and leaned against the railing, staring up at the sky.

He didn't want to lose Oliver.

It seemed like everything was going well and being able to talk to him regularly made all the difference in the world but he couldn't shake his doubts.

The last man Cooper dated didn't make it past a month and a half into his four month fishing job.

When they had pulled into the harbor for a break two months after setting out, Cooper had turned on his cell phone to find a text from him ending their relationship.

It had been sent a couple weeks prior.

It sucked, especially having to deal with the heartbreak while he was working and far away from his family.

‘If Oliver broke up with me and went back to California, I don't think I'd survive it. Even though I'd only known him for six months, he was my best friend. He was my everything.’

Cooper hoped this wouldn't be too much for Oliver.

He hoped he'd still be there when he got back.

- Oliver -

It was a grey, overcast morning in Alaska but it was beautiful.

The rolling hills and mountains rising from the ocean were a vibrant green and contrasted perfectly with the blue of the water.

It was chilly, so Oliver pulled his jacket tighter around himself as he watched the flurry of activity on Cooper's fishing vessel.

Oliver knew the guys had to be coming off the vessel soon.

He also knew Cooper wanted to spend his two day break sleeping but Oliver hoped he'd be happy to see him instead.

When Cooper told Oliver where the vessel would be for their break, he immediately booked a plane ticket out there.

Flying to Alaska wasn't cheap or easy but Oliver would do anything if it meant he could surprise Cooper and see him in person after two months apart.

Oliver finally spotted some men leaving the vessel and his heart started to race when he saw Cooper.

Oliver pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called him.

It warmed his heart when he saw the smile on Cooper’s face as he saw who was calling him.

"Hey, babe," he answered.

"Perfect timing. I'm literally walking off the ship and was about to call you. How'd you know I'd be able to answer?"

Oliver smiled.

"Because I can see you."

Cooper stopped in his tracks and his head shot up.

Oliver waved and when Cooper spotted him, the young man could see the shock on his boyfriend’s face.

Cooper’s phone slipped out of his hand and onto the ground.

He quickly bents to pick it up and then raced off the ship and jogged over to Oliver, barreling into him hard enough that he almost knocked him over.

But Oliver didn't fall because Cooper’s arms were around him, pulling him into his large frame.

Oliver took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Cooper’s hair and then the large man squeezed him and lifted his boyfriend off the ground.

Oliver didn't even care that Cooper was squeezing him hard enough that he suddenly couldn't breathe.

When Cooper finally put Oliver down, he was grinning, his smile wider than the young man had ever seen it before.

"What are you doing here?" Cooper asked, slightly shaking his head.

"I can't believe you're actually here. Am I dreaming? This is the best surprise ever."

"I missed you so much that I wanted to see your face in person."

Cooper continued to look amazed.

"How did you pull this off? You have to take two flights from Seattle and it's not cheap."

Oliver leaned forward and kissed the tip of Cooper’s nose.

"It was an adventure. And like I mentioned before, my boyfriend doesn't let me pay any rent so I have a lot of money sitting around."

Cooper pulled Oliver in again, kissing him hard.

Oliver slid his fingers into Cooper’s overgrown beard so he could cup the sides of his face.

The young man was so happy to see his boyfriend and feel his large arms wrapped  around him and his solid frame against his.

It was worth every second of the day of travel and the money he spent to get here.

They separated when they heard a nearby voice.

"Cooper, is this your boy?"

A few of the men who had been making their way off the vessel were standing near them.

Oliver wasn't sure how friendly they'd be about two men kissing but he didn't have to worry.

Cooper put his arm around the younger man’s slender waist.

"Yep, this is Oliver. He flew out here to surprise me. Can you believe that?"

One of the men smiled and offered his hand.

"I'm Jack. It's good to finally put a face to a name."

Oliver shook his hand and smiled back and Cooper introduced him to the rest of the guys.

"We're not going to see you at all for the next two days, are we?" Jack asked.

Cooper grinned.

"Nope. See you all again, when we're about to leave.”

After the guys walked away, Oliver turned to Cooper.

"You must be ready for a decent meal. Do you want to go get breakfast?"

"Only if the breakfast is you."

Oliver laughed.

"Hotel room it is, then."

Oliver had rented a car and as they made the short drive over to the hotel, Cooper's hand never left his boyfriend’s thigh."

I can't believe you're here," Cooper murmured.

"I'm still in shock."

"I didn't want to go another two months without seeing you."

Cooper squeezed my thigh.

"I hope you're planning on showing me just how much you've missed me."

"Oh, I definitely am. As soon as we get to our hotel room."

Cooper's booming laugh filled the car.

"I'm all for that but I need to take a shower first."

"But I like the way you smell after you've been working."

"Trust me, I need a proper shower. It's not like logging where I smell like sweat, dirt and pine needles. I smell like sweat, ocean water and fish. You're not going to like it. And I need to clean up anyway for what I want to do with you."

"Okay," Oliver laughed.

"We'll start in the shower.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Insecure (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

A Visit from the Lesters (ao3) - analester

Summary: "It’s the first time that Phil’s family is seeing the house since they moved, and they want to make a really good impression on them."

Or

Dan is a bit insecure and nervous about hanging out with Phil's family, even after 7 years.

After the Storm (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan survived the car crash, but he has to relive it every night in his nightmares. Luckily, he has Phil to comfort him.

Growing Pains (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: a quick oneshot of Phil feeling a bit insecure about his age and Dan comforting him.

helplessly helpless: I’m alive, can you hear me? (ao3) - MANIAvinyl

Summary: Dan’s been in a relatively good place. He’s kept his head screwed on tight recently. So because the worst of the storm has passed he feels like it’s on him to help the world to de-stigmatize talking about mental health. When he mentions this to Phil, though, it’s finally revealed how much the last few years have impacted his best friend, too.

I'll hold you right (ao3) - Sacirin

Summary: As Dan is 'putting himself out there more', Phil gets insecure about their relationship and his own role in it.

I'm Almost Me Again (ao3) - MaybeALilCringey (probablysecretlyawitch)

Summary: Dan feels insecure like he hasn't in years. Phil reassures him.

Memories Turned into Daydreams (ao3) - apoetacriminal

Summary: He stood there in the middle of an empty room; thinking of the life he had before. Or five times Dan felt insecure and one time he felt comfortable with himself.

My Shot (ao3) - companionsthroughlife (maggie_1277)

Summary: He finally looked at his phone and saw it was only 6 am. He couldn't go back to bed now that he had left the room, he went to his desk.

He knew he wasn't young anymore, and that he shouldn't be working this hard but he felt like nothing he was writing was good. He wasn't good enough, he felt like he was throwing away his shot of fame and youtube. He was working harder than he had in the past because of this.

He just sat and worked for hours, never looking away from his screen. He needed to finish this thing and then maybe it would be good enough. He didn't think that it would be even after writing and rewriting for days.

or a look into Phil's mind.

Only Us (ao3) - Lizzyboo

Summary: It hit him gradually, all the ways in which Dan had grown.

He couldn’t pin point the moment it dawned on him. The moment when he looked towards the person next to him and realized, oh shit, he’s an adult.

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

Phil is starting to think that maybe what he has to offer Dan just isn't enough anymore.

Pride (ao3) - INeverHadMyInternetPhase (BirbWatcher)

Summary: It's Pride, and Dan is feeling insecure.

reassurance is easily forgotten (ao3) - januarysnow

Summary: dan has a lump under his duvet every morning, phil is growing insecure.

run from the lights, run from the night. (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: "This isn’t his first hangover but it always feels like the first time whenever he drinks too much," or Dan is hungover and insecure and Phil still loves him anyway.

She Used To Be Mine (ao3) - companionsthroughlife (maggie_1277)

Summary: Dan woke up that day knowing that this day was going to be bad, like the past few months. All he felt was empty.

He got out of bed after an hour of just sitting there, staring at his wall and his phone.

He went to the bathroom and just looked at himself. He didn't recognize his own face anymore.

So We Meet Again (ao3) - americanphancakes

Summary: One night Dan forgets that he was supposed to hang out with Phil, playing his favorite MMO instead. Dan beats himself up for being the worst best friend ever. Meanwhile, Phil wants to understand what keeps Dan coming back to the game, so he creates an account to investigate firsthand.

souls in flowers (ao3) - ywgttn

Summary: Phil has imposter syndrome and his insecure mind is making him see flowers and stars, Dan can bring him back though.

He always can.

stand beside my own reflection (ao3) - CapriciousCrab

Summary: The creation of individual merch has Phil stressed and anxious, for personal reasons.

When You Leave Me (I'm Not Going Anywhere) (ao3) - fisshhhh

Summary: Sometimes the thoughts are just too much. Sometimes Dan breaks. Sometimes he finds himself drowning on the kitchen floor, unwilling to ask for help and too insecure to think that anyone would want to help him anyway. Luckily, Phil loves him.

Set in 2009 or early 2010, shortly after they met.

Basically, Dan has a panic attack and Phil is there for him. A little dark but with a fluffy ending.

Words Left Unsaid (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Dan and Phil are out clubbing with some friends. Dan feels insecure that no one can hear him in the crowd.

Wrapped Around His Finger (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Phil finds himself feeling a bit insecure and even jealous when his new boyfriend receives a flood of attention from men and women alike. Dan, who has agreed to keep their relationship a secret, finds it harder and harder to appear single. Phil sees another male hitting on Dan and feels the need to make their commitment known to others.

You're Perfect To Me (ao3) - ticklishraspberries

Summary: Dan is feeling insecure about his body, and Phil can’t have that.

Jumping on the Bandwagon Isn't So Bad (ao3) - ticklishraspberries

Summary: Dan decides to jump on the ‘boys in crop tops’ trend.

#phan #phanfictioncatalogue #masterlists #phanfiction #phanfic #insecure masterlist #insecure #insecure!dan #insecure!phil

[itspdameronthings]

Going Home ch 9

Summary: I know it has been a very long time since updating this. Bare in mind I wrote this last year. This chapter was written during that snow storm that hit in 2020. That’s why the chapter deals with what I went through. Thought it would be nice to think about something cool in this heat. Here is what is going on in this chapter. Faith finally tells the others about her time in Columbia. How would she react when she finds out the others were there too? A huge shout out to @autumnleaves1991-blog ,and @aellynera​ for giving me the courage to start writing my very first mini series.

During the night the power came on,but it didn't stay on that long. Round 1am. The power went out again. Caused everyone to find more blankets and clothes to keep warm. To make matters worse. It started to snow. Wind blowing softly. Santi woke up to see what it looks like outside. Nothing but white. Cloudy skies. Matched the moods of their babies  Both men have their work cut out for them. Especially Santi. Apple's emotions are all over the place. No matter how hard he tried. In her mind. He is not doing things right. Even though they have a fireplace. No one wants to get out of their warm beds. Nothing to do is sleep or try to read with the limited light source that was available. One good thing. Have enough batteries to keep their mobile devices charged. Benny and Santi were always on their phones. Checking on any updates on the power situation. The others  would group text to check one another. Will is the only one that has power. Offered everyone stay with him. Frankie took his family over there. Santi and the others try to pack. Santi is worried about moving Apple. Since she is in her state. Benny and Faith went out to Will's in an ATV. Will texted Santi that he would pick them up. 

Benny and Faith were the first ones to arrive at Will’s. Frankie was not far behind. Santi would be there as soon as he gets stuff for Apple. Wanted to prepare for anything that involves her cravings and what not. Will shows where everyone would be sleeping. Naturally Benny and Faith would be in his old room. Frankie’s family would have the upstairs guest room. Apple and Santi would have the room downstairs. Bummer there were only two bathrooms. 

Soon everyone arrives. Only thing everyone wanted to do was take a hot shower. The ladies took theirs first while the men were in the kitchen to help Will fix something for dinner. Frankie tried to put  Mia down for a nap. Which took a while to do. The boys gathered round the bar while the chili was cooking. Talking about stuff. Mostly about how they were dealing with things since coming back from Columbia. They chatted about how they still have nightmares. Benny mentioned he still relives the moment that Redfly died . While the others still have nightmares about the crash and shooting the villagers. Faith comes downstairs to hear the others chatting. Then hears Ben,” Let's hope that Lorea’s goons don't come after us. Worst yet. Come after our loved ones. I have nightmares about that. Last thing I want is for Faith to get hurt.” When Faith heard that. Wonders how he knows about that man? What does he mean about men coming after them? Something sounds fishy on this side of Denmark. Time to find out what they are talking about. 

Faith walks into the kitchen. Clearing her throat,” What you all know about Lorea? That is classified info. Santiago Garcia! Why are you going around telling your friends about that madman!? He needs to die for what he did to those poor souls.” Santi goes to her ,and places his hands on her shoulders,'' There is something I have not told you about what happened since you left. Guess there is no time like the present to tell you what happened.” Benny comes behind his girl,” Pope , what are you talking about? Why does Faith need to know about the disaster we all went through?” Faith went to get some liquid courage. God knows she needs it since she is gonna tell the boys and her love about her past. After taking a huge sip of her drink,and taking a huge breath,” Yall know I was a part of a swat team,but yall dont know I was in Columbia the same time as Santi. My group was assigned to help to capture Lorea. Years of nothing but deadends. Till four months later. We got the lead we needed. My team was sent to track him down. Not Till--!” Santi comes over to her,” Breath just breath. It's okay.” Faith continues,” My team got ambushed! I was the only one of six  that survived. Suffered a gunshot wound to my left side. Was rushed to the hospital. Where I stayed to recover.   Caused me to reevaluate my decision to retire my position as soon as I returned home. Tried to get in touch with Santi about what happened. Guess yall are gonna tell me what I need to know.” Benny comes behind her,” Honey, why did you tell me! I could have helped you with your ordeal. My poor baby!” Kissed her shoulder when he pulled her to his lap. Santi tells her what went down. Also what the boys knew about Lorea. This news made Faith happy the evil bastard is dead,but to hear about them losing a friend on that mission made her feel sad for them. This was too much for her to handle. Faith got up to go upstairs so she can be alone.Ben went upstairs to be with her. 

Apple and Randi come to the kitchen to see both Ben and Faith going up the stairs. They could tell it might have to do with all of the serious looks on the boys’ faces. Apple kissed Santi's cheek,” Why the serious face ? Oh no! What the fuck happened? Don't lie to me!” Santi tries to calm her down by sitting her down,and sits next to her,” Finally told Faith what happened when she left Columbia.Before that she told the others about her ordeal. Caused her to lose it. “ Apple knew some details about her time there,and her being wounded Recalling the nightmare Santi had when he came home. Telling her about losing a brother at arms. All of the pieces of the puzzle started to fit. It is good for Faith to finally know what happened when she left. Now she has closure to that nightmare. Apple tries not to get upset. That is the last thing she needs to do is to cause harm to her babies. Rubbing her belly,” Glad that Faith got the answers she was seeking for so long. She is gonna need some support to process this. Hope Ben can help her. This is one time she is gonna really need him,and all of us. “ Santi rubs Apple’s shoulder,” We all will help her get through this. I’m thinking about what Ben said about them coming after us. We will make sure that notion   doesn't become a reality.``

 Benny went to take his shower. Faith Finds the huge leather chair by the big window that faces the mountains. She loves sitting in that chair when she comes to visit Benny months before he moved in with her.  Found the heavy blanket on the bed so she could wrap herself in his scent. Something she needs. Don't want to think about what she heard about what Santi and the others went through. Now she feels bad for not telling Benny about what she went through down there sooner. Got lost in her thoughts when she feels Benny’s hands on her shoulder," You okay baby? You are miles away."Faith looks into his beautiful eyes. So much love in them. Reaches to rub his warm cheek," Still processing on what I heard. Then finding out you were there! Almost getting killed! Thought of that scares the shit out of me the most! Made me think about the members of my team that didn't make it!! " She started to breathe erratically till Benny pulled her out of the chair to lay her down on the bed.  Laying down with her. Gently rubs her cheek," Count down with me baby. Can you do that?" She nods then counts with him till her breathing is back to normal.  Laid  her head on his chest. Clinging to him as if he was her lifeline. Benny is thinking the same thing. They need one another right now. Slowly they fall asleep. Till Will knocks on the door to tell them that dinner is ready.

The smell of the Chili fills the air. Will did a great job. Both Benny and Faith hear the sound of Santi saying the chili is not enough. When they went to the bar to fill their plates with chips for Benny.  Faith reached for the cheese for the chili. Caused him to laugh.  Poor mama to be , Apple. As much as she loves chili. Her tummy would not allow her to have any. Only thing she could eat was fruit. Santi went to fix her some fruit salad,and a peanut butter sandwich. The highlight of the evening was Frankie trying to feed his daughter. She made faces at him. Caused everyone to laugh. After the drama earlier; that is what they needed. As soon as everyone was done eating. Faith and Rani helped Will clean up while the others went to the living room to unwind. Will whispered to his brother,” go and get your guitars. So you and Pope can entertain us with some good tunes to take our minds off of the snow.” Benny smiles and goes into the game room to fetch them. Will pats Pope on the shoulder,” How about some entertainment from our resident singer. Accompanied by my brother.” that made Santi blush. Thought it would be a good idea. Not till he sees Benny with two guitars. Benny smiles,” To answer your question. Yes I play. Been doing it for years. Never had the chance to play again. After the performance at St. James made me want to start playing.” both of them on the floor starting playing. That caused Mia to laugh. Not till Santi played the song he played for her that night he babysat her. A sweet version of Enter  the sandman. Which caused her to make funny sounds. Santi stopped playing,” Fish? Did you teach her to do that?” Frankie laughed,” Only when you sing Metallica. Sorry Bro!” Santi puts the guitar down to hit Frankie with a pillow. Everyone laughed.  Benny Whispers to Santi,” Why do we play something sweet.” Santi smiles and he whispers to Benny the song choice to play. Both nod,and start to play. Five years by David Bowie. Their voices were so soothing to hear. This made their ladies swoon,and caused their niece to get sleepy. Randi picks up her sleeping daughter,and tells everyone goodnight. The boys continued to play throughout the evening till everyone started to yawn. Will was the first one to call it a night. Frankie was next. Santi stops playing when he sees Apple asleep on the couch. He  leans down towards her ear,” Come on mi amor. Lets go to bed. So we can leave these young ones alone for awhile. “ Benny softly laughs at that remark. Santi slowly pulls Apple up. Tell them to have a good night.Also to be good. 

Alone at last. That is what Benny is thinking right now. All he wants to do is be alone with his baby. After a hellish day. She needs some comfort. That is the goal for the rest of the night. He starts to strum a sweet tune. Faith lay her head on his shoulder. Feels better when she is near him. Benny smiles,” Have an idea. Come and sit between my legs. So i can teach you how to play the guitar.”Faith nods and situated herself  so she is comfortable between his long legs. Shows her the proper way to hold onto the guitar. Little does he know. She knows how to play. All she wanted to do is to be close to her man. Benny puts the instrument down,and pulls her close to his chest. Inhales her sweet scent. Whispers,” Love holding you my baby. Don't want this to end. Just want to enjoy the  peace and quiet. “ Faith moves so she could look into Benny’s eyes. Rubs his cheeks,” So do I. Let's not waste this moment then handsome.” Benny picks her up,and takes her upstairs to his bedroom. Gently lays her down on the bed.They kiss nice and slow. Hands roaming  their bodies. Not till they hear Mia crying. Causing Benny to moan. So much for peace and quiet. Till the cries got louder by the minute. Frankie knocks on his door,” Man, I know I’m interrupting something ,but Mia is having a rough night. Gonna need some musical help.” Benny kisses Faith,” be right back hon.  Get under the covers.Keepthe bed warm till I return.” She kisses his sweet lips, and smiles at him. Soon he closes the door. Went to his drawer to find his old flannel shirt. Put it on and get into bed. 

 Benny and Frankie hated going downstairs to wake Santi up. His voice along with his and Benny’s could help the baby to go to sleep. Frankie knocks on Santi’s door. No answer. Means one thing. Either he is in a deep sleep or he has his headphones on. Knocks louder caused Santi to open the door,” Both men told Santi that Mia was crying her eyes out. Santi rubs his eyes. Noticed Apple is still asleep. Thank God. So the three of them went upstairs to see what they could do.  Reaching  the room, see  Will rocking Mia . telling her a story about him and Benny when they were kids. This is a sight to see. It calmed her down somewhat till she started crying again. The three men started to sing a sweet tune. Sweet lullaby they learned from listening to one of the playlists on Spotify. It did  the trick. Poor Will did not want to move till Frankie took her from him so he could put her down. Quietly left the room,and to his delight. Sees Faith in his flannel shirt,and his wool socks. Only thing he could do was smile. 

#triple frontier fanfiction #Triple Frontier #benny miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #Garett Hedlund #Oscar Isaac #going home

[pruning-the-minds-garden]

Ugh.

Behind a cut for emotional whinging that people don't necessarily want/need to read.

Okay so three things are on my mind tonight, two of which have been all day, and I want to at least talk at them if not about them.

First, I have my traumaversary coming up. It's the day of the year that I went under the knife (and anesthesia, obvs) for major, life-altering surgery that the doctors at the time told me I have an 80% chance of surviving, but neglected to mention had a less than 50% chance of coming out of without profound alterations to my body and the way I live my life. The surgery last something like 15 hours, and during it my heart stopped something like three times and I had to be resuscitated. I only woke up from the surgery, that I can remember, more than a week later. There were in fact major alterations to my life. I wont go into specifics but they were wide-ranging and permanently disabling, but because this is America I have to work anyway if I don't want to starve. Every year when it gets close to the 22nd my brain gets louder and louder reminding me of that, until I'm reliving the things I went through on a near-constant basis while everybody around me sings and toasts the holiday.

Second, well this is where I talk at the emotion rather than about it. There is, or has been, a storm in my head for years now and I don't feel comfortable talking about it. I've gamed through as many ways as I can think about how to discuss it or bring it up or describe my feelings, and none of them go well, so I just have to sit with my feelings. But, without getting into it more, it's a storm of fear, resentment, and feeling utterly rejected by people very close to me. It mirrors the abandonment issues and feelings that I've felt for a long time, but I feel like if I talk about it then it will just drive more people away and make the problem worse. So, I don't, even though it is crushing me to keep it in and I know it.

Third, there's a bit that only became relevant this evening. I cut off nearly all contact with part of my family a while back. That was a profoundly tough and painful decision for me, but after looking at the fact that in the last several years there wasn't a single conversation in which they didn't treat me like a pincushion or act the part of emotional parasite, I just had to put distance between us. There were also personal safety considerations as they are anti-vax anti-mask, and I'm immunocompromised and work with and around essential healthcare personnel. So, I can't afford to get sick, nor can I afford to get them sick. The one time I did take a risk (a week vacation in DC, to see friends I hadn't in ages), I got COVID. They refuse to do anything to protect themselves or me, and won't budge, so for my own sake I put distance between us. That's... well, it is what it is... but today there was extreme weather in their area. I felt a whole new wave of guilt and anxiety, checking where exactly the weather hit the worst, and feeling guilty that I still didn't feel comfortable checking in with them. I know they would just use that phone call as a chance to guilt-trip me about having boundaries, and I just can't deal with that right now.

My brain is just this storm of thoughts and feelings and I wish it would let up, but I don't know how to even make that happen. I've medicated appropriately and that helped some, but only just. And, that's not a long-term solution, just a temporary band-aid. I wish I knew how to fix it but... blah.

#personal #mental health stuff

[dumbwa-sian]

Open Letter to you

Dear you,

I told you how many times I loved 'Gone with the Wind' and to my surprise when I met you you knew everything I was talking about when reliving my favorite movie of all time and how deeply I lived my life trying to be like Scarlett as a strong independent woman and would settle for no one less than a man like Rhett. You knew this and although I played it cool, you snuck your way into my heart and broke down my walls, making me truly love you from the deepest parts of my heart, sharing my darkest and brightest thoughts. Through trials and tribulations you happily supported me when I didn't even know I need it. I grew to love you deeper and let my guard down to not only you but others. I truly thought you were my Rhett Buttler and that this was the happy ending the two deserved. The ultimate power couple, the couple people aspire to be, the one that makes people believe in true love again.

But obviously I was wrong.

I really and honestly thought that through more trials and tribulations we would find a way to figure everything out and make it through the storm as Scarlett and Rhett would. But somewhere along the way you let go of my hand and replaced it with a dummy, happily stringing me along, making me believe you still cared and loved me the same way I did you.

I am not one to believe in hope, in fact as you'd know I am an not an optimist but started to become one through your bright personality. So I believed in hope and put faith in the universe and us, believing everything really would be okay. Through the past year I had no lack of suitors asking for a moment of my time, in fact they came and tirelessly tried to woo me despite their futile attempts. Some may have been genuinely nice men, but my heart belonged to you and only you, every broken, cracked, scared, bruised part of it. It was yours and you accepted it. You knew how hard it was for me to do that. So why would you string me along and lead me towards a dead end?

I told myself all this time, "I swear I did everything right" and blamed myself for my short comings and yours. I won't say I sacrificed a lot for you but opportunities to fight harder for things that may have been better for me because I believed it was right were sacrificed. For this the blame falls on me and me alone.

Let me be frank, I am not blaming you for my mistakes but simply asking why you felt it appropriate to toy with my feelings for months the way you did.

At this point I realized you were not my Rhett but in fact Ashley. I even to quote Scarlett. "tell me you love me, I'll live off it for the rest of my life." I truly was willing to believe that. But after a conversation with your closest friend I realized you in fact were neither Rhett nor Ashley and I was not Scarlett. In fact you were Hamilton and I Eliza. A convenience for you.

Maybe like Hamilton, maybe you did at one point love me, or maybe you didn't. But kept me at an arms length so that you'd have someone to comfort you when you deemed it convenient for you. Regardless, like Eliza my blood and heart broke when I found this out. I want to burn the memories and times we spent together, scream in your face and make you feel a fraction of how I feel. But I know it'd do me no good. Maybe thats why I'm writing this letter that will never reach you. Instead I'm screaming into the endless void of the internet for some reason, hoping to maybe ease the pain.

I want to take the high road, don't get me wrong, but a part of my mental unstable persona is screaming at me to throw reason aside and do unspeakable things all in the name of revenge. Instead I will attempt to take as high a road as I can, but you know me. I can't and won't.

You were my safe person. I felt like whatever I troubles I had you'd be there for me and supported me 100% unconditionally. I don't even receive the same treatment from my family, how laughable. I spent the entirety of my life believing this would never happen to me, that I would never truly feel safe and accepted by another, yet you made me feel that way, despite my efforts to keep you away. Maybe you love the game rather than me.

So tell me, how do you think it felt to lose it all? To no longer live life but instead go back to struggling to survive after getting a taste of how sweet and colorful life is supposed to be. All I've ever wanted is simply to survive and not have to scour and forage for connection and acceptance.

How do you think it feels to lose the only person I ever felt safe with and go back to keeping to myself and constantly having to be suspicious and cautious around people? You say you still care, yet show no sign of doing so. After the strength it took for me to come and voice my feelings to you multiple times you yelled in my face and blamed me for my feelings.

At that moment I knew it was truly over and when I could feel the ground beneath me start to crumble. When I said I was on the edge, I didn't lie. I'm standing on the edge, watching the waves crash below me and feeling every particle of dirt slowly fall there. I don't know where else to go but to run away.

Running away may be the best decision I've ever made for myself, or be the straw on the camels back. Either way, I'm lost and searching for answers, answers you refuse to give me since you obviously only see myself and my feelings as a toy to play with when your drunk. It hurts more to know that your best friend repeatedly told you how morbid and disgusting your actions were yet chose to let those words fall on deaf ears. If you valued me as a human, much less your friend, why would you behave in such a way?

I write this with tears threatening to leave, yet my heart filled with both love and fury for you. I want to say I wish you well but I'm not that good of a person. But I am not bad enough to wish you the worst. I'm conflicted on how to say goodbye to you and our memories, the photo in my wallet that follows me around, the videos on my phone, the memories that live in my heart and my dreams. I do love you, even still I do.

Somewhere your optimism has infected me and I'm hoping this is a nightmare or some cruel joke and you'll apologize with lilies like you did on valentines day, that you'll hold me in your arms and kiss me, telling me you've been an idiot and look at me as if I'm the only thing that matters, like you used to. Somewhere I'm hoping it happens.

But it won't, wont it?

so goodbye, thanks for at least pretending with me.

-from me.

#Heartbreak #openletter

[amazalina]

man this was an emotional ride

#the haunting of hill house #i just... what a well written family. i've never seen this in a show before. they were so life-like #like the one about the two storms? a family talking about family and reliving the same fights over and over again and then finding new ones #that are also about the same thing if you look closely. and how they just stop and help each other and do things together #the second pragmatic stuff calls for them to. just... family. and how it stays with you even when you're older. #i also finally understood that thing with the writing that i thought was too heavy when i realised it's actually THEATRE #it's written exactly as if it were to play on stage and language takes a life of its own and becomes like an eighth character #it supports the whole stories and makes it an ensemble of stories delicately stitched together and it takes a lot of words and povs #and memories and other stories to make up just one. and that's accurate and it also reminds us how much we all rely on words and stories #to take in reality. #i LOVED it. i loved it. it was fascinating that all along it isn't... only about ghosts #or yes but the ghosts are about something else too. and it's not about a haunted house really or maybe it is. it's just that. #it's the people who are haunted and they are almost always haunted by each other and themselves and if you blur the imaginary with reality #like young boys and grown up ones do all the time. it does become a very haunting world. and it is. #anyways i WEPT watching this and it was so good. #thohh

[enchantestuff]

rekindle - rbr sebastian vettel

in which after a long time apart, you and Sebastian rekindle your love for one another in the least romantic place you could think of - a sweaty, packed nightclub

NOT MY GIF!!

warnings: public sex (ofc), fingering, teasing, lowkey angst at the start, nicknames, uncomfy ex, sebastain Vettel deserves a warning himself, happy sinning

taglist: @theringers​ @forestviper201 @icemanhoneybadger​ @formulamei @findthelightinyourlife

3.1k words

You smirked as your eyes met from across the club for what felt like the hundredth time that night. You hadn't seen him in over a year, the last time you were even in the same country as him had ended up with you climbing into a taxi, speeding away to the airport and him standing half naked in his driveway, wishing for the car to turn around and end his worst nightmare.

The relationship between you and Sebastsian was a complicated one to say the least. You had grown up with each other, your families vacationed together every second summer and you spent many christmases together. It was only when you got older that you started to really appreciate Sebastian.

Daydreams of what it would be like to spend a night in bed with him began to fill your free moments. Images of the two of you tangled in bed was once something that you could only dream about, but that dream certainly became a reality one unforgettable night in Italy.

It was during a celebratory dinner after yet another win that he had leaned over to talk to you. His lips brushed against the side of your neck and goosebumps had risen all over your skin, you cursed yourself for your reaction but soon began praising your childish antics once Sebastian finally caught onto how you felt about him.

The few words of “do i make you nervous, liebe?” led to the two of you making out in the corridor. That celebratory dinner escalated to a friends with benefits situation which set off a more than complicated relationship between the two of you where feelings were of course present, but stubbornness from both sides refused to let them be out in the open.

Your feelings for one another eventually escaped when he got into a nasty crash in the middle of a race. You ran up to him the minute he stormed into the garage, tears welling in your eyes as you crushed into a hug. He held you with just as much force and whispered into your ear what you had been waiting for months to hear.

He told you that you had been the only thing on his mind when he crashed into the wall and he didn't want to go a minute longer without telling you how he really felt about you

As much as you wanted things to be great with Sebastain, your relationship was unfortunately not plain sailing from there and the media had a bring role to play in your downfall. They wouldn't leave him or you alone, constantly following the two of you wherever you went and even going as far as sending mail to your shared home. It was the media that drove you to leave the man you adored and move to another country in search for a new career and a new life away from the public eye.

You stared at him now, unable to tear your eyes away from his beautiful frame. He looked as good as ever and you knew deep down that you would probably never see him again. So against your brain telling you not to, you engraved every detail of his face into your memory, not wanting to let him go just yet.

You felt horrible for leaving him and strongly believed that he hated you for abandoning him. You wouldn't have blamed him if he did, you sometimes hated yourself for that decision. So you kept your distance from him all night, repeatedly telling yourself that if he did not harbor any bad emotions towards you, then he would approach you himself.

To tell the truth, you were too embarrassed to go up to him yourself, too full of guilt to face him after what you had done. But when he made eye contact with you as he pulled a girl into his body, something inside you snapped and you found yourself being dragged into an all too familiar game of cat and mouse with him.

Your night of teasing had officially begun the minute he kissed the brunette's neck, refusing to break your stare as his hands ran up and down her hips. You decided it was your turn to reciprocate the teasing and pulled a random, but still handsome, man towards you to dance. Holding your gaze with him, you allowed the man to grip onto your hips and sway from side to side. Your ass pressing against him with every beat of the music.

You maintained eye contact with him as he chatted with multiple women, his hands resting dangerously low on their backs as he smirked in your direction, you hated how much you loved his little games.

You decided to take a dance break and stepped away from the claustrophobic dance floor. Moving towards the less packed bar, you leaned against the contour top as you ordered yet another drink. The feeling of hands wrapping around your hips didn’t surprise you, nor did the hot breath fanning across the back of your neck. You were used to the warmth of Seb’s body by now and after so much time apart, you still recognized his touch.

“Quite a show you put on back there,” he muttered, gesturing to the bartender for another drink before turning his attention back towards you. You kept your face forward, staring at the variety of liquor stacked on the shelves as Sebastian flirted with you in your ear. He was still positioned behind you, which you saw as the perfect opportunity to press your ass against his crotch.

The tightening of his grip only fueled you to press yourself further into him in hopes that you would emit an even stronger reaction from him, and boy did you get what you wanted. One of his hands rested underneath your breast and as he emitting a small amount of pressure against you, he forced you into him.

No longer leaning against the counter, you could now feel the entirety of his body pressed against you. Every vein and muscle. Every curve and dent of his body, Still, that didn't stop you from wiggling your bum against him.

“Are you trying to turn me on right now, love, or are you really that fucking oblivous?”

You twisted your head to finally look at him, momentarily taken aback by his pure beauty before regaining your confidence again. “That depends,” you hummed, purposely brushing your lips against his neck as you spoke, “Is it working?”

His hold on you tightened and somehow he pulled you even closer to him, allowing you to feel every inch and vein of his hardened cock. “Someones excited,” you smiled, immediately freezing up when you caught sight of your ex boyfriend standing next to you.

He was the man you had been with before Seb and it was safe to say he had completely broken your heart.

Confusion immediately filled Sebs body at your reaction, fearful he had done something wrong he moved to stand beside you, holding onto your bicep as he looked you in your eyes. “Are you alright, darling?” he questioned, his eyes bouncing back and forth as he searched your face for any indication of pain.

“Yeah its - “

“Y/N! Great to see you.” Dread immediately filled your body at the infamous voice, you felt yourself go rigid in Sebastian's grip and desperately wished for your ex to leave the two of you alone.

“Who's this douche?” Seb whispered in your ear, trying to relive some of your tension and comfort you in what seemed to be a terribly uncomfortable situation.

“Brad, hey,” you muttered, you grabbed hold of Sebastian's hand that was previously sprawled on the bar countertop, using the warmth of his touch as a confidence booster to finally turn around and face the brutal ex.

“How have you been?” he asked, refusing to even glance at the Redbull driver next to you, focusing his hungry gaze on you and you only.

You sighed deeply at his attempt of small talk. Could he not just say hello and move on? Did he really need to interrupt your night.

Sebastian kept a close eye on you throughout your short conversation. A sense of protectiveness filled him at your rigid stance, he knew you could handle the situation yourself but he couldn't help but want to aid you. He felt the need to get involved. So he did.

He didn’t let you answer the man's next question of what you had recently been up to, instead he grabbed hold of the side of your face, his fingers dipping into the nape of your neck as he pulled you into him. He grinned smugly at the worried glance you threw his way before connecting your lips together.

The kiss was hesitant at first.

Taking into account this was your first shared kiss together since the breakup, it felt both natural and unusual to be kissing him again, but as the seconds passed you found yourself relaxing in his hold and began kissing him back with much more force.

You lost yourself in the moment, the idea of your ex boyfriend watching you make out with your other ex boyfriend didn't even cross your mind. You solely focused on the way Sebastian’s lips felt against yours after such a long time apart. He was addicting.

Your eyes fluttered open when he pulled away, blushing slightly at the sheepish look he threw your exes way. “What were you saying, mate?” he confidently asked.

The feeling of his palm burned against your cheek and you couldn't even bring yourself to look at Brad, but you didn't need to as he just stumbled away, clearly intimidated by Sebastian.

There was no need for you to say anything to Seb - if the way you were teasing him earlier on in the evening was of no indication to how you felt about him - then the lustful look you were giving him now certainly was.

He immediately pulled you back into him, your lips reconnecting in a lustful kiss. With no more awkwardness surrounding the two of you, you found yourself enjoying it even more.

Moving one of his hands down your body, Sebastian forcefully squeezed your bum which emitted a gasp from you, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, further deepening the kiss. He pressed his body against yours and your hands raked across it, feeling his muscles flex against your hands.

You moaned into his mouth the minute he dug his hips into you, the feeling of his body so close to you bringing you back to when the two of you dated. Confusion filled you when he pulled away, ending your lovely make out session and disappointing you tremendously. “Don't start what you can't finish, love” he warned, leaning down to scatter kisses across your chest, nipping and licking at every exposed area.

“Who says I can't finish this?” you remarked, grinning at the way his eyebrows rose at your statement.

“Look around us, darling” he stood up straighter, craning his neck to glance from side to side, taking into account the multiple people surrounding the two of you. Hundreds of people filled the room, hundreds of eyes that could possibly witness something. Hundreds of reasons why the two of you shouldn't get ahead of yourselves. But then again, when he looked back at you and the playful pout that crossed your features - he found himself making up a hundred different reasons as to why it was such a brilliant idea.

“But then again,” he continued, leaning closer to you in order to whisper in your ear, “that's never stopped us before.”

A shiver ran up your spine at his words, images flashing through your mind of previous encounters the two of you had in the most inappropriate areas. Cutting your daydream short, Sebastian grabbed hold of your hand and guided you up the stairs to the more secluded vip area.

The bouncer merily glanced at Sebastian before lifting the red velvet rope and letting the two of you in. Nodding a small thanks to the man, he continued his journey into the dimly lit area, a content hum leaving his lips at the sight of a small booth in the corner.

He sat down on the plush seats and you fell down to sit on top of him, the lower half of your body covered by the wooden table in front of you. Sebastian wasted no time in kissing your neck, unable to detach himself from your skin for more than a few moments.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, watching the small group of people ahead of you dancing and laughing at each other caused a blush to quickly creep up your cheeks. The thought if anyone witnessing your antics both embarrassing and exciting you.

“Are you sure you want to do this, liebe?” Seb questioned, he placed his finger on your cheek and forced you to look at him as he spoke. “Because once we start, I won't be able to stop.”

“And why would I ever want you to stop?” you shot back, pressing your bum further into him to prove your point. Sebs eyes scanned the area, having seemingly decided the risk of getting caught was worth it, he ran his fingers up your thigh, under your skirt and into your underwear.

His other hand trailed the opposite direction, moving up your body to gently squeeze your breast. You arched your back at the sensation, your ass moving further into him and a harsh squeeze being delivered as a result.

Slipping a finger into you, his hand flew away from your breast to clamp over your mouth, muffling the sudden moan that escaped you. “You have to be quiet, sweetheart. There's people around us,” he reminded.

He littered gentle kisses up your neck and you could feel his smirk against your skin at the shaky breath you let out the minute he slipped a second finger into you. “I don't think anyone else deserves to hear your moans, darling.”

You hummed against his hand, wetness pooling at his words and your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb began to circle your clit. “Move up for a second, liebe,” he demanded once he removed his fingers from you. Having no other option but to comply, you braced your hands against the table and stood up on shaky legs. You patiently waited as Sebastain undid his belt, the sound of the metal coming undone bringing a newfound wetness to your core.

“Ready?” he questioned, moving his hand up and down your thigh to comfort you. You nodded your head, biting harshly on your lip, you quickly glanced behind you and yet another shaky breath tumbled from your lips at the sight you beheld.

Sebastain was sprawled across the couch with his dick barely covered by your body. The sight of him shamelessly sitting there did something to you and before you lost your confidence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto him.

“Keep quiet now,” he reminded once you took all of him in. Your hands gripped onto the table in front of you, your knuckles quickie turning white as you used it as leverage to start moving.

The sound of your skin hitting against sebastians was muffled by the laughter of the crowd and the loudness of the msic booming across the grand club. “I'm trying,” you grunted.

You slowly bounced on him, trying to keep your movements small and inconspicuous to the people around you. But Sebastian could only last so long without needing to take over. A moan accidentally escaped you once he began thrusting his own hips upwards to meet yours. In response to your foolishness, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking not so gently on it as a warning and forcing you to look at the dim lights hanging above you instead of the people ahead of you.

Holding onto your body he quickly steadied you, forcing you to halt your movements as a random man walked up to the two of you. You shifted in his hold and attempted to reposition yourself to look more natural towards the stranger. You just wanted it to seem like you were cuddling the driver, not bouncing on his dick.

One of your arms wrapped around his neck while the other laid on his chest. You spared a quick glance downwards, making sure your skirt covered everything before looking back up at the man. Sebastian greeted him, admittedly not poilelty, but he greeted him nevertheless. It only took a few seconds for the two of you to realise he was a fan and by the looks of it, would do anything to hold a conversation with the Sebastian Vettel.

You couldn't help but move on his lap, the need for friction overwhelming you after staying put for several minutes. You slowly began rolling your hips, your heart racing at the sudden release of pressure and also at the fact you were grinding on him with a fan of his only a few feet away.

Sebastian cleared his throat, trying desperately to pay attention to the man in front of him and not on how good you felt clenching around him. His hips unintentionally runted up into you, muttering a quick curse under his breath he grimaced at the man, cutting his sentence short as he gestured towards you. “If you wouldn't mind,” he sympathetically commented.

“Right, right sorry,” he mumbled, “Enjoy your night.”

He soon scrambled away from view and Sebastian began carelessly thrusting into you again. You returned to your original position, now resting your head against the table, thankful for the pleasure filling your whole body. You could feel a bead of sweat forming on the nape of your neck and were almost certain you looked a mess but you couldn't have cared as you got nearer and nearer to your peak.

This new angle allowed Sebastian to take control of your activities. He guided your hips back and forth, not paying attention to the movement of the table nor the attention that the two of you could possibly bring your way. All he wanted was to bring you to your release. “Are you going to cum for me, darling?” he whispered. You nodded against the table, the coolness of the wood reliving your flushed cheeks as you felt the knot begin to release in your stomach.

You moved your hand to grip onto his thigh, “I'm gonna-” you mumbled, unable to finish your sentence as he gripped onto the back of your neck and forced you to sit up straight. His fingers immediately fell down your throat in a poor attempt to muffle your moans. You whimpered loudly at his show of dominance, your attempts to keep quiet failing profusely as he hurried his movements.

His fingers moved further down your throat as your walls clenched around him. Before you knew it you were spilling yourself against Sebastain. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head and heat filling your body as he followed in your actions.

#Sebastian Vettel imagine #Sebastian vettel #Sebastian Vettel smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #forumla 1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula 1 smut

[inmyownlaine]

John Murphy x Reader Mini Series: My Favorite T-Shirt

GIF// SONG//

Part: 2/5

Warnings: Angst

Artist: Jake Scott

Summary: Murphy finally gets the chance to tell, and show you, how he feels about you after you calm him down from a nightmare.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You were putting your hands up under my shirt, making fun of the way I was breathing...

Murphy’s home was now yours. Ever since he mustered the courage to ask you to stay, you found the bravery to never leave. Whether thunder boomed overhead or the heat sweltered into the night, you found yourself laying beside him. Wrapped up in his blanket wearing one of his shirts. 

And just like every night, when the sun finally went down, the two of you stopped talking. Took your places in his bed. Back to back, just a sliver of space in between. Both of you nervously lying in the darkness, questioning what the other was thinking. Worrying about boundaries. Obsessed with the thought of each other. But never having the boldness to ask.

Your eyes had just closed when Murphy let out a panicked yell. Bolting upright, scrambling around in the bed. Trying to figure out where he was. You sat up beside him, reaching out blindly. You caught his shoulder and gripped it gently, sweat transferring to your palm

“Murphy,” you said lightly. He only breathed heavily in response. “It was just a dream.”

He remained in silence as he composed himself. Slowed down his breathing. Ruffled his hair. Shifted uncomfortably back and forth. “Aren’t dreams supposed to be- nice?”

“There are good and bad dreams. Was yours a-”

“Nightmare,” he interrupted harshly. It caused your lips to curl inward. Embarrassed for not calculating the severity of his imagination.

“About what?” you asked.

“This- wonderful place,” he mocked. “I can’t even escape it when I sleep.”

You felt strongly that the time was now. To make a move. To let Murphy know how you felt about him. How he made you feel even with all the turmoil happening around you. He deserved it now more than ever.

“I know what you mean,” you admitted. “I used to have bad dreams all the time. About being killed. Or tortured. Or just- being scared.”

You could feel him staring at you. Wishing more than anything you could see his face. To gauge how he felt. To tell you whether you should keep going or stop altogether. It would either give you the confidence to press forward or continue to hold it all in.

“Used to?” Murphy pressed.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Before you.”

Murphy shuffled closer to you. His bare leg faintly pressed against yours. A delicate, yet intimate gesture, that insisted you go on. To tell him everything that once weighed you down, only lifted by his own calloused hands.

“You mean that?” he questioned.

“When we landed on the Ground, I tried my hardest not to fall asleep. I’d just lay awake in bed, stuck with my thoughts. It was scary enough in real life but to relive everything in your consciousness-” you rambled on, remembering how painful it had been to be separated from your family. To find out that you had been sent here without knowing the possibility of surviving. That in everyone’s eyes you were nothing but a delinquent child.

That all changed in a split second rain storm. “But when you invited me to stay, I didn’t have to watch my back. And for the first time in months, I actually slept. With no gnawing feeling of being watched or hunted. I just let myself be. It was the best I had felt in a long time.”

You couldn’t tell what Murphy was doing. There was a break in conversation as he mulled this over in his own muddled brain. He had not felt safer with you. In fact, he felt a larger burden to be a protector. To have his guard up in case anything threatened to hurt you.

But he did feel important. He went from someone nobody wanted around to the only person you wanted to be with. And though that meant giving up some type of comfort, he would do it every single time. It was worth it to be loved through someone else’s eyes.

Of course, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the same feeling he held when you had first stayed over. Letting his mind wander to uncharted waters. Wanting nothing more than to trace the dimples in the small of your back. To count every single mark and blemish that coated the length of your spine. He knew he could do it forever and never get tired. He would just simply start over.

And that shirt. It was his favorite by far. But not because of the way it looked on him. It was everything about you. The way it fell just past your thigh. How it draped across your body like an ancient goddess. Hiding the frame of your body yet hugging to you in every perfect curve.

Murphy started first by lightly running his hand down your arm. You gasped sharply, but didn’t shy away. Reciprocated with a dancing of fingertips across his thigh. He could hardly hold himself back as he dove towards you. Smashing your lips together in a fevered guess. One that he made correctly.

He kissed you hard. A pressure that took off the anxious build up in the depths of his stomach. Trying his best to convey how long he had been concealing his feelings. And how relieved he was to finally get it out.

Murphy pulled away and set his forehead on top of yours. Breathing heavily, you squinted in the dark. Attempting to catch a glimpse of any facial feature. It was in vain as he nudged you gently to the side.

You rolled over and placed your hands under your cheek. There was no way you were going to sleep now. A smile plastered across your face as you reveled in the moment.

Without warning, Murphy wrapped his arm around you. Slid his hand underneath the hem of the shirt you were wearing. Played around with it before committing. Finally placing his hand on your hip, causing a cold chill to travel throughout your body. A harsh exhale escaped as it reached your throat.

Murphy let out a laugh as he buried his face in the back of your head. “What?” you asked, slightly embarrassed by your actions. Hoping he didn’t catch it.

“Nothing, nothing,” he assured you. “Are you cold?”

“Stop,” you whined, drawing out the word as long as you could. Turning into the pillow to try and hide from him.

“I’m just concerned. You’re shivering like you’re cold but you’re breathing like you ran a marathon,” he teased.

“I’m going to bed now.”

“Yeah, good luck. Sleeping when you’re bothered isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. I would know,” he said. 

You couldn’t help your curiosity. Rapid fire images of unchaste scenarios flicking through your mind like an old picture film. Murphy being bold made you bold, too. Gave you the strength to play right along with him. “Meaning?”

He let out one more laugh before yawning. Tightening his grip on your waist. Melding perfectly into your body. Leaving you with a simple line that sent tingles shooting like fireworks.

“There’s a reason I sleep with my back to you.”

#john murphy #writing #love #john murphy fanfic #the 100 #john murphy imagine #john murphy x reader #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy fic #john murphy love #good god this gif

[whimsicallyreading]

An angsty one-shot for your day. I stayed up way too late to write this.

CW- drinking

Aelin keeps the letters stacked neatly on her desk.

Each letter is stamped, addressed, and ready to mail. In tiny marks on the back, she writes the date every individual one was written. The envelopes are his favorite shade of green. A deep, pine color that she’d painstakingly scoured every stationary shop to find.

Delicately, Aelin seals the latest envelope and adds it to the growing pile.

My Love,

It’s almost winter here in Orynth. I know it’s your favorite season and you are probably sad to miss out, so I took a Polaroid of the clouds coming in over the staghorns for you.

Do you remember how we’d sit in front of Mistward every year and watch the first snow storm come in over the peeks? We would drink hot chocolate and talk for hours. About our families, our futures, anything and everything. It’s still one of my favorite traditions.

In fact, it’s where I am right now. Writing this letter to you. Just because you are overseas doesn’t mean you get to bail out. I bought two hot chocolates, but I suppose I’ll have to drink yours for you. What a shame.

Writing to Rowan was her weekly tradition since he got deployed. No matter how busy life got, every Friday she wrote him two full pages front to back. Whether she got to sit at her desk or had to scribble against the rusty bench at the bus stop, every inch was covered in her hand writing.

That was her personal rule. They had to be handwritten. Aelin felt it meant more that every piece of the letter was entirely from her. So she keeps a collection of colored pens handy for whenever the urge to speak to her husband grows to be too much.

At the bottom of the last page, next to her signature, Aelin always kisses the paper with red lipstick. Maybe it’s cheesy, but it’s the same shade she wore at their wedding.

You could see the ghosts of the color along his jawline in their favorite photos together. His beaming smile, the smudges of red on his face and the collar of his white dress shirt. A remnant from the happiest day of her life she thought would bring him comfort.

My love,

Winter is here! It’s so cold outside. You would say it’s this frigid every year, but it just feels different this time. Maybe it’s because you aren’t hear to snuggle up with and your side of the bed is empty? You were always so warm.

I keep your slippers by the couch. They are ridiculously huge on my feet, but I swear they still feel like you just walked in them. Your warmth is still there.

You would laugh if you saw me hobbling around the apartment in them. My toes slide all over the place. Truthfully, your feet are atrociously large, dear- Still they remind me of you, so I love them.

Aelin gets home late from work that night.

Humiliated tears sting her cheeks, even as she rubs them away. The feeling of that creep, Cairn’s, hands lingering on her ass.

She was used to fending off handsy patrons. What bothered Aelin is that when she complained to her boss, Erawan, he publicly berated her for instigating the customers.

None of the other waitresses would meet her eye when she looked for back up. Grave, the bartender, sniggered through the entire dressing down. Aelin could still feel their eyes on her skin as Erawan accused her of being provocative.

Rowan would have demanded she quit the job. He would have marched down to the bar and broken Cairn’s face. Possibly even held him back so Aelin could do it herself.

Aelin needs the money, though. Rowan’s accounts were frozen due to some stupid technicality at the bank. Without her paycheck, she would lose the apartment.

Sniffling, Aelin slides her feet into Rowan’s slippers and plops at her desk. It isn’t Friday yet, but she’s desperate to speak to him.

As her hand flows across the paper, Aelin knows she won’t describe the days events to him. He’s under enough stress without her work drama adding to his worries.

My love,

Yulemas is next week. Aedion is in Caraverre with Lysandra and our new nephew. Lorcan and Elide are going up from Perranth to stay with them, but the roads are so frozen in Orynth I may just stay here this year.

Besides, work is busy right now. They need someone to man the place for the people with nowhere to go for the holidays.

Maybe I’ll host a little celebration at the bar. Like we did that one year when we got stuck in the Hostel in Rifthold. We made the best of a bad situation, and it was the first time you told me you loved me. I think I’d like to relive a little of that this year.

I miss you. Please come home.

Aelin lays in her bed the night before Yulemas and sobs.

Ugly, guttural noises spill from her chest and she soaks their pillows with tears. The newest envelope is clutched against her chest, and the building stacks mock her from their spot across the room.

Her heart is so raw. Aelin knew it was a bad idea to count the letters, but there was so many. Curiosity got the better of her, and now she was bleeding for her mistake.

Fifty-six.

A full year of letters she hadn’t been able to send.

Rowan had only ever written her twenty before he was declared missing in action.

A year ago, she’d been hanging bobbles and decorating a tree knowing her husband only had a few weeks left of his tour.

Aelin had painted a welcome home banner, and her whole family made plans to come and spend the holiday with the soon-to-be-reunited couple.

She had his slippers waiting by the door. Rowan’s favorite blanket was laundered and folded on his side of the bed in case he wanted to lay down. Aelin had it on good authority that the bed would be one of the first places they visited when he arrived. Emerys had even given her a mixture of their favorite hot chocolate to make.

Everything was perfectly in place for his return.

That’s what when the soldiers arrived at her door and her world fell apart.

Lorcan came home a week later. He hugged Elide and she cried into his shoulder. Happy tears. So unlike the ones Aelin had been shedding. Her friend beamed ear-to-ear, as the love of her life gathered her into his arms and squeezed.

It was a touching sight, but Aelin could feel the hot knife being twisted in her chest. Elide’s happiness caused her physical pain, and it made her feel so selfish. She didn’t begrudge Lorcan his life, or Elide her joy- Aelin just missed her own husband.

Elide and Lorcan spent Yulemas together. Kissing and holding hands. Lysandra finally announced her pregnancy. Aedion’s expression when he opened the box with the baby onesie inside was priceless. Her cousin whooped and hollered, almost dancing with the prospect of becoming a father.

Aelin smiled. She gave her congratulations and celebrated with her family. They hugged, and laughed. Aedion took care to include her in everything, and she played her part even as she tried to ignore the concerned looks her family exchanged behind her back.

Aelin made it to lunch before she couldn’t take it anymore.

Fenrys was the one to find her having a panic attack on the bathroom floor. She hadn’t even known it was a panic attack. Aelin just assumed the pain of losing her soulmate was finally killing her. The tightening of her chest and the body aches felt enough like a heart attack to be convincing.

He gathered Aelin in his arms and counted breaths with her. His twin brother Connal was lost in the same fight where Rowan had gone down. Fen had seen the whole thing from the cockpit of his plain, and nothing he did could’ve saved them.

He shared his pain, and for the first time Aelin felt like someone understood her.

Fenrys let her lean on him as they excused themselves from the celebrations. They drove to some bar in Caraverre and spent the rest of the day wallowing over whiskey.

Aedion came to collect their drunken asses later that evening. Worry etched into every line of his kind face. It only made her feel ashamed that she’d rained all over their happy day.

He was going to be a father, and she’d forced him to spend his time fretting over her instead of reveling in that news.

Now here she was a year later. Aelin wasn’t going to subject herself to that again. Couldn’t. She wouldn’t force her grief upon anyone else this year, either. Just because she was hurting didn’t mean that everyone else had to suffer with her.

So, as Yulemas Eve came, and before she could finally distract herself with work, Aelin pulled Rowan’s blanket over herself. She’d spritzed it with his cologne, donned his shirt, and pulled his socks over her feet. Aelin did everything she could to feel surrounded by him.

Then, alone in their bed, she watched as the clock ticked down to midnight.

Rowan,

Wherever you are, I hope my words reach you and that you know you aren’t alone. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could trade places with you- would give anything, just to know where you are.

It breaks my heart, to be without you. Every breath seems pointless. I lied in my last letter. The roads aren’t frozen. I’m not needed at work. No one really needs me to be around them. I just couldn’t spend another holiday surrounded by happy people when the other half of my heart is gone from me.

When you come home, I will feel like celebrating again. I’ll wrap my arms around you, and we can make up for lost time. Just please, don’t make me wait too much longer.

Merry Yulemas, my love. We will be together again one day.

Until then, I’ll keep on writing, only so long as you don’t yield.

Sincerely, your loving wife

Aelin

#throne of glass #rowaelin #fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #aelin #rowan #angst fic #write me #one shot #tog fanfiction #tog

[zodiyack]

Who’s Watching

Requested by @cai-neki​: May i ask a request; Youngest Shelby!reader one an angsty again, where someone's haunting the reader (she couldn't grasp if it's a past memory or person) ending up into various looks from her brothers thinking she may have a trauma but it turns out there is really someone following her around. Kinda long and messsy but yeah.

Pairing: Shelby & Gray Family + Shelby!Female!Reader

Warnings: Stalkers, swearing, my horrible reference in the title, angst

Words: 1,642

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @peakysputain​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @cai-neki​, @simonsbluee​, @marquelapage​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @thewarriorprincessxo​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Her chest heaved with uneven breaths as she slammed the front door shut behind her, back pressed against it. Her brothers walked in to see what the noise was about, surprised to see their sister’s disheveled body blocking the door.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Arthur exclaimed first. He eyed her with wide curious eyes, not all that sure whether he should be mad at her or getting revenge for her.

“S- some- someone-” She couldn’t form a full word with how heavy she was breathing, gasping for air as she rested her hands on her knees.

“Someone what? Did they follow you?” Tommy moved to the windows, looking around before drawing the blinds. “Are you alright?”

“W-wat-wah-”

“Water. Get her some water, Finn!” Arthur yelled before turning back to his sister. “Nod or shake your head. Are you alright?”

She shrugged.

“Do you need help?”

Again, she shrugged.

“Did they want to kill you?”

She shrugged once again, this time taking the water as Finn passed the glass to her.

“Can you stop fucking shrugging?”

A few gulps of water later, the cold liquid soothing her dry throat, she spoke up. Her breathing was still off, but she was recovering. “Someone was following me. I don’t know if they’re trying to kill me or if they followed me home, I just know that I did the thing you taught me-”

“What thing?” Finn furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Tommy. He told me that if I got a bad feeling about someone walking in the same direction as me, to turn a couple times, walk in directions off-route. This person followed me even then. As soon as I realized that, I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t even take the time to look back.”

“Good girl.” Every head in the room turned to Pol, who leaned against the door-frame of the family room. She slowly walked forward, moving her niece aside to look around outside the door before shutting it and locking it. Tommy gave her a questioning glance, to which she replied, “all clear at the front door.”

“Alright. Finn, go check the back, Arthur, can you patrol the house? If one of the doors were unlocked, they could have gotten in while we were talking.”

“Yep.”

The three waited in the main room for over an hour. Tommy and Polly took turns comforting Y/n as they waited for the boys to return. When Finn and Arthur did indeed return, Tommy was suddenly more doubtful than Y/n expected. Finn confirmed that all the doors were locked, Arthur reporting no one but themselves in the home.

Thomas turned toward his sister. “Are you sure someone was following you? Did you forget a turn and assume they were?”

“What?” Y/n’s face morphed into an expression of disbelief, hurt that her brother would question her. She was horrified, looking as if she’d seen a ghost, when she ran inside. The entire time she was running, her body felt uneasy, like she would faint had she stopped for even a second. It felt like her stomach had dropped.

“Are you one-hundred percent serious?”

“Yes- well- I-” It was ironic. She’d looked like she’d seen a ghost and for a split second, she thought it was a ghost. Had she been hallucinating? No, the chase felt too real. Whether it be a person or something from long ago, she knew it was after her. “I don’t know if they were human but-”

“You don’t know if they were human?” Arthur cackled. “Tommy, she thinks a mummy ran after her!”

“I never said that!”

“Was it a werewolf? Was he going to eat you? Gobble you up?” Arthur continued to poke fun. Only Thomas, Polly, and Y/n remained straight-faced. Polly noticed Y/n tearing up, the genuine hurt in her eyes saying that whatever it was, she was still terrified for her life.

“Arthur. Stop.” Although he continued to chortle, Finn’s laughter faded as he made eye-contact with his aunt. “Arthur.”

Finn nudged Arthur harshly. He stopped laughing and turned to Pol. “Yeah?”

“Stop teasing your sister right this damn moment or I’ll find whatever was chasing her and let it have you instead. She was beyond terrified. Look at her!” Polly snapped. “Can’t you see she thought she was literally going to die?!”

As the arguing went on, Y/n sighed and headed to her room. Her aunt was a great save, but that didn’t mean she believed her either. Only defending her due to catching how mortified she was. The embarrassment gifted to herself by a simple overthinking thought. ‘What if I was only imagining things...’ her brothers made her second guess herself.

The night went on, lights turning off, Shelbys and Grays lying in their beds, until everyone in the home was fast asleep. The windows and doors were locked, blinds drawn, and home quiet. The creaking of the wood, however, was new. It sounded like someone was stirring, but no one was awake to hear it.

Screaming awoke the members of the Shelby home. John had just returned, Ada as well, and had a head start to their sister’s room. She had sat up so quick it felt like she should’ve gotten whiplash. When the other four got to Y/n’s room, Ada was sitting on the bed beside Y/n, holding her close to her, and John was sitting on the edge of the bed, shooting her a sympathetic look.

“Did you see them again?” Finn inquired. Arthur slapped him up the back of the head, earning a glare from his little brother. “I’m being serious!” He whisper yelled at Arthur, only to be ignored.

“See who?” Ada looked at her family with widened eyes of confusion. She turned to her sister then back to her brothers and aunt. “What happened?”

“Ada. I’ll um...tell you in the study, okay?” Polly mumbled softly. Ada nodded and rose from the bed, hugging Y/n reassuringly before walking to her aunt. Both women stopped in their tracks as Y/n’s voice sounded again.

“I had a nightmare. The same person. They were in...here. My room. They opened my door and began to walk over to my bed. I couldn’t move. I was terrified. I thought it was all over, but another door opened and the person ran away. I screamed when I could, but for some reason, it was delayed.” She didn’t even take a break to breath or rethink details. It was like she was reliving it even at that very moment.

Tommy looked concerned. He whispered something to Pol before gathering his brothers and the other two females. They left the room, Tommy closing the door behind him, and left Y/n by herself to meet in the study.

“She’s got some kinda flashbacks or something like that.” Finn commented.

“We went to war, she...well, whatever happened, it wasn’t as bad as war. I doubt it’s some kind of thing she’d seen. Perhaps it’s her imagination again.” Arthur grunted in response.

The three older brothers had dealt with PTSD before, the effects similar to Y/n’s awakening, but Arthur didn’t believe she was hurt. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. The man wanted his little sister to be safe, and knowing he couldn’t keep her so would hurt him more than the war did.

“I say it’s a trauma.”

“What kind?” Ada was quick to question Thomas, as per usual. “Injury related or event caused?”

“Either. If she hit her head, perhaps walked into something on the way home, or if she saw something she didn’t want to see...”

Unbeknownst to the family in the study, Y/n was on the other side of the doors. She pushed them open with a furry. “I’m not traumatized. Nothing that happened is from my imagination or some injury! This person is real and no matter what you do or say, they won’t stop.” She stormed out just as quickly as she stormed in, leaving her family to dwell in her warning.

She hadn’t left the home all day. It concerned the family, but they understood. No one had spoken a word to her since she’d made her point. When it was time to sleep again, Ada and Pol were the only ones to bid her goodnight, the boys cowardly, even more so when it came to admitting it.

The creaking occurred again. Y/n was awake this time, wide awake. The dream felt just as real as her escape had. Last night, she’d fallen asleep, given the person an advantage. Not tonight, she swore, not tonight.

Footsteps grew louder as they neared her door, the small squeak of the door opening causing Y/n to clench her eyes shut. Cold air followed the stranger; Y/n thought to herself, the person must have opened a window...but they were all locked, were they not?

She couldn’t be certain.

They stood over her bed, hesitating for whatever reason. Y/n had her own advantage this time. She wasn’t in sleep paralysis, she wasn’t incapable of showing the stalker what Shelbys learn since birth. Right as they reached for her, the mirror next to the wall by her bed positioned so she could see them, she slid under their squatted legs and darted out her bedroom door.

Behind her was not her concern as she ran for a specific room. Their footsteps thundered loudly, yet not loud enough to wake the rest of the family. Hot on her trail, they aggressively swung for her, but her distance was just far enough that they couldn’t reach her fully.

Reaching the room, she grabbed the first gun in sight, turning and firing. A few seconds later, steps padded throughout the house and stopped at the door. There they saw their little sister with a gun, standing over the person who’d been stalking her, wounded but not dead.

“Told you.”

#shelby!sister #shelby!reader #john shelby x reader #ada shelby x reader #finn shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #polly gray x reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x reader #john shelby x sister!reader #arthur shelby x sister!reader #john shelby x shelby!reader #tommy shelby x shelby!reader #arthur shelby x shelby!reader #ada shelby x sister!reader #ada shelby x shelby!reader #finn shelby x sister!reader #finn shelby x shelby!reader #polly gray x niece!reader #polly gray x shelby!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x shelby!sister #peaky blinders x shelby!reader #x reader #reader insert #all readers #zodiyack

[houndsofcerberus]

Lament of a Father

Technoblade was a lot of things. In whispers passed along as he walked through the market he was a monster. In quiet reverence after turning the tides of a war he was a hero. In loud jeering after the tides of war had been changed he was a villain. In stories passed between families of a man on trade routes at midnight he was a benevolent spirit, a god even. He held many titles but the one he cherished, the one he would wear like a badge of honour until the day he died? Well he had only worn that one for a year, maybe less. He would never speak of it to anyone, never share that vulnerability to anyone. Except of course for the one who had tenderly taken the title from him. He was eternally grateful and indebted to Philza for what he had done, but chat occasionally disdained him for stopping them.

Tommy, despite looking so much like his dad, despite sharing his blond hair, his sapphire blue eyes full of life and curiosity, was well aware of the fact he was not his biological child. The only biological child his dad had ever had was his older brother Wilbur. Though it was easy to assume the opposite. Wilbur had taken after his mother, who had long since passed, her presence only existing by the picture pinned up on the fridge. She had been gone long before Tommy’s arrival, though his dad often spoke of how it was because of her invisible influence on him that made him take Tommy in. The story Tommy had only ever known was that his parents had left him behind. His brother, jealous of the time and the care his dad seemed to pour into Tommy but give him sparingly, had once told Tommy his parents didn’t want him. Had left him to die in the woods. He had never asked his dad because as far as Tommy was concerned they had. It didn’t matter to him how they had left him, it mattered that they left him at all. It mattered every time he heard the other kids whisper about how Tommy was a bastard child. Unloved. Unwanted. Out of place.

Tommy had been content never meeting his biological parents. That would be fine by him. Philza had been adequate. He had a roof, a home, a bed, food. Despite his brother’s occasional jealousy or the common squabbles between the two he was happy to have his brother. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, his parents must have been terrible people to leave him behind like they did.

Tommy stared from behind Wilbur at the stranger in their door whom their dad had been welcoming warmly. Tommy frowned, trying to look past the improvised mask made out of a hoglin skull, wondering if the slight tusks coming from the mans mouth were also not his own. He noted the long pink hair, the way he smelled strongly of blood despite the fact that there was none to be seen on this stranger. Tommy could see a crossbow on his back, a weapon his own dad didn’t wield but he’d seen occasionally used, shown off in weapon shows in town. People around here didn’t use crossbows. He also took note of both the axe and the sword on the man as well. The axe was not the woodcutter’s axe outside, but a battle axe. A mean looking thing, but the soft glow of it was mesmerizing and what little of the blade he could see was sharp, definitely for fighting. The sword was sheathed at the man’s hip, but the hilt he could see under the man’s red cape was ornate, a beautiful gold glinting in the light along with the rest of the man’s jewelry. There was a ruby at the bottom, looking like fire in the candlelight. Tommy froze as he looked back up at the man’s face, making eye contact. He frowned and stuck his tongue out indignantly.

“What’re you lookin at?” He snapped.

Technoblade had to suppress a soft chuckle at that. He was so small, hidden behind his brother, but he said it with such fire in his belly that Techno was half convinced that had he heard it on the battlefield he might have looked away. He looked back at Phil, who smiled fondly.

“Long time no see mate, we should talk,” he said softly.

“We should,” Techno replied, eyes flicking back to Tommy. In that moment though he wasn’t a young man, nor a child. He was an infant, held so tenderly in Techno’s arms.

He remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He had remembered it since it happened, he relived it over and over. Tommy’s mother had died. He wished he had known her longer. They hadn’t been married when Tommy came along, and she had been the opposite of Techno. She hadn’t lived long after Tommy was born. As was Techno’s luck seemed to be. She had known it and she had held the tiny golden haired baby who had her eyes and his father’s smile. So rarely given but a treat to be savoured. The tiny child had squealed and grinned at her once his crying had stopped, his eyes fixed on her until his father gently lifted him from her arms after they had gone limp. Techno had promised many things. But above all he promised that no matter the price their child would live the best life he could live. 

Technoblade had spent a little under a year with the title of father. He had cherished every second. He hadn’t believed he wanted to be a father, not until he was. He didn’t believe attachments were a good idea, but he would never regret this. Never. He had named the small child Theseus, he wanted his child bearing the name of a warrior. Of a man who had carried hardship and walked tall yet still. He wanted Theseus to be strong, he wanted the name to fit the man he knew his son would one day be.

He had spent the entire year carefully taking care of the child, despite the voices in his head screaming to rid himself of the danger. The danger someone would use this tiny bundle of giggles and straw blond hair and watery blue eyes against him. They insisted this helpless baby would be his demise. They chanted for blood but Technoblade would not concede. At least for that year. He would hold the child, speak softly of great heroes, of gods and of monsters. He would fall asleep, arms around this tiny life that had been left for him to care for, protecting him. He still believed wholeheartedly it was the best year of his life. The year he had replaced his old titles, the title of monster, of god, of hero, of villain. He would maintain for the rest of his life that father was the only title he would ever want.

“Please Philza,” came the strangled sob as Techno held out the bundled up child. “Please.”The rain had soaked through Techno’s clothing long ago, his hair soaking, though when Philza took the child into his arms he noted that there wasn’t a drop on the sleeping baby.

“Techno, are you sure? This is the greatest gift you could receive, are you positive you want to give it up?” Phil said sadly, looking up at Technoblade, soaked in rain. His crimson eyes were bloodshot and Phil knew his old companion well enough to know he had grown fond of the child he held. Fond enough to weather the storm.

“No. I’m not sure. I don’t want to give him up, if we lived in a perfect world I would never. I would hold him until the world burned around us. But you know damn well why I can’t.” Techno said, looking away, eyes landing on a framed image of Philza, his long gone wife, and his child. Theseus would be safe here. Theseus would be loved. It didn’t matter that Technoblade felt his heart was being ripped from his chest. He had come so close. He wouldn’t risk it again.

“Mate...” Philza said, face falling. “You can’t help it, you know you wouldn’t dare,” he said softly.

“I wouldn’t. They would. They tried. I am not putting him in danger by simply being alive in my presence. Please, please I am begging you. Take him. Take care of him like I can’t. He deserves better than to grow up to fear his own father.” Techno begged, holding back the tears that were stinging his eyes. 

“...okay...” Phil agreed, relenting. He offered the bundle back to Techno, offering a moment to say goodbye. Techno took the chance eagerly, holding the child close.

“I love you, more than you could ever understand. You are my heart and soul Theseus. Be a good man,” Techno whispered, the tears he’d been choking back betraying him and falling down his face. “I will always love you.” He added solemnly, taking another look at his sleeping son. So peaceful, so blissfully unaware. He handed Theseus back to Phil. “He gets nightmares, often. He doesn’t sleep well still, but this-“ Techno pulled out a stuffed animal, a simple plush toy his son adored, a stuffed cow, floppy and well loved, handing it to the other. “Warm milk and Henry help him sleep, he prefers to be held though, it makes him feel safe. He doesn’t like to be alone,” Techno rambled. Phil nodded, taking note of everything said until Techno reluctantly took his departure.

Tommy and Wilbur sat outside, pretending to play as they kept an eye on the window, watching the strange man inside talk to their dad. They were sat at the table, their expressions confusing for Tommy. Smiling but...not happy. Their dad had made the two of them tea after shooing the kids outside to play. The grass rippled around Tommy in the breeze as he ripped some of it up and let it fly away in the wind.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Tommy asked, staring at the back of the stranger’s head.

“Dunno. Maybe they’re finally taking you somewhere they’ll teach you to have manners,” Wilbur joked, tossing a dandelion he’d picked at Tommy.

“Shut up, if anything you’re the one who doesn’t behave,” Tommy replied easily, rolling his eyes and tossing the flower right back at Wilbur. Things hadn’t always been so easy between them. Tommy had been treated like he was precious cargo by their dad. Neither knew why, Wilbur didn’t care why. His dad was paying attention to Tommy not him. He didn’t like it. As they got older it got easier but there had once been a time where their ‘fights’ hadn’t been in jest. Where they actually meant it when they said they hated one another. Tommy could still tell Wilbur didn’t like that their dad clearly had a favourite but he no longer blamed Tommy. His relationship with his dad had soured mildly though their dad hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Phil I can’t tell him.”

“He deserves to know. I never told him anything, he’ll start looking one day and if he finds out that I never told him who you were when you were right here? When he could’ve asked questions? He’ll not only never forgive me, he’ll never forgive you.” Phil said. “He’s a stubborn little shit, he got that from you.”

“Phil he’s better off with whatever story he’s come up with in his head. He may not want the answers to the questions he has.” Techno said softly. “No child deserves to know their own father tried to kill them.” 

“Techno that wasn’t you and you know it. You’ve gotten a handle on chat now, you’re not the stupid kid who runs headfirst into battle without thought anymore. If what I’ve heard is right he’d be proud. You’ve won multiple tournaments, that’s something he’d find interesting.” Phil said.

“Phil please. You and I both know this won’t last. I’m not a person who stays out of trouble for long.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t I always?”

Technoblade’s name had become well known by the siblings after that conversation. Phil hadn’t yet introduced them until years later when Techno showed up for one of Tommy’s birthdays, giving Phil a book and telling him to wait to give it to Tommy. Then came the Pogtopia vs Manberg war. Techno had played a major part in the war though his efforts were wasted once the president of Manberg dropped dead in front of them. Since that day Lmanberg had rebuilt the damage caused by both Wilbur and Techno. Phil had come back. But Techno’s reputation for being ruthless and dangerous hadnt faded. Nor had the knowledge he was a private person. Which is why when he found a certain young man in his house he had been shocked.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Tommy froze, looking up at Techno from where he was still climbing the ladder, head poking out from the hole he thought he’d hidden decently. Tommy tried to scurry back down but Techno caught him by the back of his shirt and easily lifted him off the ladder and set him on the ground.

“Why are you in my house?” He asked again.

“Well...someones clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed!” Tommy said. “You’ve got to fix that temper big man, or else nobody will want to hang out with you,”

“I don’t want anyone to hang out with me. That’s the entire point. Get out.”

“God this place is ugly. You really should hire a decorator. I know someone who could help y’know, I could call them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out. A charity case if you would. She’s great really.” Tommy rambled.

“Theseus.” Techno said firmly. For some reason this was what made Tommy shut up. It sent a chill down his spine and he felt like someone had poured ice water down his back. “Why are you living under my house?” Tommy couldn’t respond. He didn’t know why but the nickname Theseus that Technoblade had given Tommy made him falter every time without fail. Tommy attributed it to the speech Techno had made all that time ago, yelling for him to die like the hero he wished to be. Since then Techno had almost exclusively used that name in their few interactions. Sometimes it would be sternly, fewer times it was affectionate, though the name gained positive meaning the longer Tommy stayed with Technoblade. Techno spent time training Tommy, and soon even just spending time with him. Technoblade taught Tommy how to make his own weapons and how to make them near perfect after realizing how woefully terrible Tommy’s current weapon was, especially for his fighting style. 

Tommy had always been mesmerized by the way Techno fought. It was like he was dancing, every movement was muscle memory, every step rehearsed, measured. The way he locked his eyes onto his target but seemed to be oh so aware when eyes were on him. Watching Techno and Philza fight was a real treat. It was like watching a performance. Technoblade had clearly learned from Tommy’s dad, and Tommy wanted to hear the stories of their old adventures, though neither would give up the goods. Phil’s movements were airy, near effortless. Though he lacked the power Techno threw into every swing, and Techno lacked a lot of the effortless grace that Phil seemed to have a birthright to.

Tommy sat, transfixed as he watched his dad’s wings flare out, though unable to carry him now due to the large chunks burned away he still used them, catching himself as Techno shoved him back. Phil had a grin on his face as they sparred, though Techno’s face was as it always seemed to be, stony and unchanging. Tommy could’ve sworn that he saw the smallest glint of excitement in those wine red eyes. Techno had a tendency for nonstop movement, and redirecting his momentum. Techno had said, quite hypocritically, that it was a stupid move however. It took a lot more energy to redirect and change momentum and still have enough power for your hit. Though it seemed that Techno wasn’t lacking in power as the sparks flew between Phil and Techno’s swords, illuminating their faces briefly before being extinguished in the snow. Phil was considered better by many, but for whatever reason Tommy found Phil all too predictable. He liked the unbridled power and erratic movements that Techno made, the way he seemed to keep his eyes fixed on you as you sparred, attention unwavering and unyielding. It was intimidating and Tommy had never wanted to be on the other side of the sword when Techno really meant it.

He had never wanted it. Never wanted this. Lmanberg was crashing around him, exploding constantly, the crater going deeper as the noise of the explosions mixed in with the screaming of the withers. Tommy couldn’t take a breath without the acrid smoke stinging his lungs, couldn’t move without the raging fire below the platform he stood on warming his skin to a near unbearable extent. But somehow nothing hurt him more than the look of pure sorrow and rage in Techno’s eyes as he stood behind the crossbow, firework loaded, ready to kill Tommy. Ready to end him where he stood. Tommy cowered behind it, his voice ever steady despite the tears cleaning trails of soot off his face betraying him.

“Do it.” He said. “Prove me right.”

Techno took a breath and for a moment Tommy thought he was going to actually pull the trigger. He flinched as he heard the click of the trigger, and then the explosion of the firework. But he was fine. He opened his eyes and saw Technoblade reload his crossbow before putting it away. He pulled out his trident and looked up, holding his free hand out as the first raindrops fell.

“We part as we did the first time. I’ll miss you Theseus.” Techno said softly, pulling his arm back before launching into the air with his trident. Though Tommy swore he heard something he couldn’t decipher it over the loud roar of the withers, the pattering of rain, and the ever insistent booming of the explosives digging ever deeper. Tommy stood, rain soaking his hair and washing his face of the soot and ash of the country he once built with his brother. He once took back with his uncle. The country he had staked everything on from the beginning. It was gone. For good now. There was no rebuilding. Tommy exchanged a look with Tubbo, the two of them locking eyes. Neither said a word but they both knew, they both understood that it was over. Dream had won, and Technoblade and Phil had helped. Tommy was surrounded by people but he had never felt more alone in that moment. Not even in exile. And he couldn’t tell you why. Though maybe it had something to do with the red fur trimmed cape he still had hanging up at home and the axe that had once been a gift and was now stolen property in his enderchest.

Techno had stopped paying attention to any and all news regarding Tommy. He told Phil it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to know. But they both knew he was lying through his teeth. He cared. A great deal. But that was the problem now wasn’t it? He had his son. He had an optimal time to tell him. And he was going to. Until Tommy charged into the community house. And Techno had watched in that moment as Tommy chose the corrupt government that had just prior ordered his execution and had imprisoned Phil. Tommy chose them over Techno, who had once more thought about retrieving the title of father. The title he missed every day of his life since he handed it to Phil.

“Tommy is dead.”

Techno’s blood ran cold. There was no way. No way. Phil turned and stared at Techno. Phil loved Tommy, he had. But they had grown estranged. Techno however? He had been attached to Tommy since the day he showed up under his house. Techno had grown close and lost Tommy but he still cared. He still loved his son. Techno didn’t love many things or people, but his son was one of those things.

Phil relaxed slightly as Techno joked, but he didn’t miss the way Techno rushed through the meeting, the way he bolted out of the room into the ever winding maze outside. Phil said his goodbyes before darting after Techno, going through the halls. He found him leaning against a wall, looking queasy. Phil didn’t even get to Techno before he heard him retch and a splatter. Phil saw him turn and wipe his mouth, face ashen and colourless, he was shaking violently and Phil could see how distant he was. Chat. Again.

“You good mate? Come back to me Techno. We can figure this out. Just breathe,” Phil said. “You’ll be o-“

“Do not finish that sentence.” Techno snapped, glaring at Phil. “He’s dead. I am not going to be okay.” Phil had seen Techno angry many times. But he’d never seen this look. The look of a man with nothing left to lose. It wasn’t even like he was looking at Technoblade anymore, not in the way he knew his beloved friend. It was more like staring a wild boar in the face. A very angry, very hungry wild boar. Phil stepped back, knowing very well he could find his throat ripped from his neck if he chose to move forward.

Techno took many long hours to calm, and by the time he had he was empty. It was like everything had been drained from him. Every ounce of Techno had been ripped out and all that Phil had left was the shell. His heart broke because he knew exactly how it had felt. He knew what it was like. After he lost Wilbur Phil had disappeared into the woods for days, he remembered killing anything that moved, hitting the trees until his knuckles bruised and bled just to feel something other than the all consuming sorrow and despair. Anything to stave off the feeling of emptiness. And it was like that until Techno set off. He said he was going to go train. Except he didn’t come back for what felt like years. Tommy had come to visit. As had Wilbur, newly revived from the dead. And Phil had nearly lost it, so relieved to see his son even if his son wasn’t thrilled to see him. It didn’t matter. Wilbur could tell him a million times that Phil no longer mattered, that he wasn’t family, and Phil would still just be relieved that he was okay. That he was alive.

He saw the way Tommy looked at them. Saw the jealousy in his eyes. He had tried so hard to stop him from feeling that when he was a kid but things were different. Things had changed. They didn’t talk much, they weren’t family like they had been. And Phil wanted Tommy to know he had family. But it wasn’t his story to tell. Not yet.

Techno had come back oh so very briefly, a week maximum. They celebrated his birthday, and Techno received a letter summoning him to the prison. Phil was apprehensive and when Techno didn’t come home that night, or the next day, or the day after that Phil started to worry. He had read the will. He knew the plan. But he didn’t like it. Too many things could go wrong. The next time Tommy visited Phil was a wreck. Tommy did his best to comfort Phil but honestly Tommy was worried too. He knew Techno could handle himself. He knew what Techno was capable of but he also knew what Dream and Sam were capable of. 

Phil however was worried about several things. He had faith Techno would be fine, he always was, but… there was a nagging in the back of his brain. He needed to tell Tommy. No matter what he needed to tell him. If Techno died in the prison Tommy should know, and if he got out as planned then Tommy should get to be allowed to know his father. He shouldn’t know before it’s too late, especially when it might already be too late. 

“Tommy?”

“Yeah Phil?” Tommy replied, picking up the two mugs he had, each with tea in them. He set one down in front of Phil at the table and sat nearby, looking at him. Phil looked like a fucking wreck. There were deep circles under his eyes, he looked exhausted and he seemed older in that moment than Tommy could ever remember him looking before.

“I need to tell you something. The truth.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it right now, you can tell me later,”

“No. I have to tell you.” Phil said adamantly. He knew if he didn’t say it now he never would. And Tommy might never get to know Techno as his dad instead of a friend or mentor. He wanted Tommy to have a dad. He owed it to him after he had suddenly stopped being one. “I knew your parents. Your mother and father, they were friends of mine. Your mom is… she’s not around…” Phil said quickly. He kept going before Tommy could react. “Your father. He’s a friend. He’s still alive.”

“…what?” Tommy asked, voice quiet. 

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you? I spent years wondering what the fuck was wrong with me or my parents that they dropped me in the middle of nowhere, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” Tommy asked, rage and pain clear in his voice. Years of self loathing, of wondering why he wasn’t good enough, why he was abandoned. Why he didn’t get to have a family. Why he didn’t get to know his father at the very least.

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, I wish I could’ve told you but I couldn’t Tommy,” Phil answered.

“There’s a lot that you don’t understand! I’ve been wondering every day of my life why I wasn’t good enough! Why I couldn’t be happy, why I didn’t deserve to have my own family! You had the answers and you just didn’t give them to me!” Tommy yelled, standing up and banging his fist on the table. “Who? How many times have I met my father and you didn’t say a word? How many interactions did I have where you didn’t tell me I could’ve asked him questions? How many times was he right there?” Phil looked down and sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t wanna say it.

“Tommy….” Phil sighed softly, looking at Tommy. He was right to be pissed. Phil knew that. But he wished he wasn’t. 

“Tell me! For once in your fucking life be honest Phil! You’ve been lying to me for years, you owe me this! You owe me this cause I died and you didn’t bother to care!” Tommy screamed, tears running down his face. “Owe up to it for once in your life.” 

“It’s Technoblade.” Phil choked out. He swore, Tommy almost lunged for his neck to choke him. In that moment he looked so much like his dad. He was so angry. He’d never seen Tommy this angry before, not even on doomsday. Phil would’ve let him strangle him, he’d deserve it. But Tommy didn’t. He slammed his fist into the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled. It was so loud and Phil could hear his voice almost giving out. “He was right here! This whole fucking time! What the fuck is wrong with both of you? You had months, months to tell me!” He screamed, his voice quavering. “You’re both full of shit!” He screamed, turning around and storming out. The door slammed and Phil flinched, hearing the pictures on the wall rattle. He didn’t think it would go this badly. Granted he didn’t know how it would go when he said it. Phil sighed and put his head in his hands. He fucked up. He was gonna regret this.

Techno regretted going into that prison. By the time he got out thanks to the stasis chamber and an ender pearl. He felt himself teleport and stumbled as he found himself in the syndicate’s meeting room. He felt someone grab him and he flinched away.

“Calm down mate, it’s alright, it’s me,” Phil’s voice said softly. Techno looked around confusedly, breathing quickly and seeing it was in fact the syndicate room, not Pandora’s Vault. Phil pulled him along and had him sit down at one of the chairs. “You alright?” Phil asked, stepping back and looking at Techno. He looked like shit. He was thinner, he was pale and shaky. He looked like he didn’t know which way was up. “What the fuck happened in there mate?” 

“It sucked. The syndicate has a responsibility to take it down, it’s as corrupt as anything could be.” Techno sighed.

“I can see that mate.”

“They don’t really feed you in there… Tommy was in there wasn’t he?” Techno asked. Phil paled.

“Yeah… he was.” Phil said, sighing. “Listen I…I have to tell you something Techno. It’s about Tommy.” 

“Is he okay? Did something happen to him?” Technoblade asked immediately, looking terrified.

“No, no he’s fine. I fucked up though mate. I’m sorry, I told him. I didn’t know whether things would go as planned or not, he deserved to know while you were still alive.” Phil said quickly, not looking at Techno. He heard the other sigh.

“….I suppose we owed it to him. Better sooner than later.” Techno sighed, shaking his head. “How’d he take it?” He asked, looking at Phil and leaning back in the chair with a groan.

“Bad. He was….angry. Angry we didn’t say anything earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed.” Phil replied, sitting on the table. He left out just how much like his father he had looked for that moment. Tommy looked like his mother but he certainly had some of his father in him. Techno’s face had fallen more. Phil hadn’t seen Techno cry in ages, but he looked close. Tears in his eyes that he was too proud to let fall. Techno shook his head as if it would shoo them away and stood.

“He’s not wrong to be angry.” Techno said softly. Phil nodded and walked with him up the staircase to the igloo concealing the entrance. “I was going to tell him. Why didn’t I? I should’ve told him. Things were good. He deserved to have my honesty,” Techno muttered under his breath. Phil opened his mouth to respond before closing it. He had a feeling Techno’s words weren’t for him. 

They arrived to their conjoined cabins in silence, and Techno told Phil that they would convene the syndicate later on, and that he was tired. Phil knew it was a lie but he didn’t push, he knew Techno would appreciate him leaving him be more than he would prying. Techno spent a few days in his cabin alone, trying very hard not to be angry with Phil. But who was left if not Phil? He couldn’t be angry at Tommy. Tommy was in the right. Theseus had every right to be pissed, to want nothing to do with him. So the only person left to blame was Technoblade. He spend hours muttering to himself, talking back and forth with chat. Chat seemed to be divided. Half believed it was the better thing to do, to keep it secret, the other said that he should’ve told Tommy ages ago. They weren’t wrong. He had a chance. In Pogtopia he had a chance. Before doomsday, before the community house he had a chance. Tommy had been through hell and back, and Technoblade could’ve prevented it, but he didn’t. His own son died because he had stayed silent. Techno slammed his fist into the wall before letting out a soul shattering scream of frustration. How could he have been so stupid?

Tommy stood outside the houses, staring between the turtle shell helmet in his hands and the cozy inviting cabin he’d once called home. At one point it had been entirely alone, nothing but Carl in his stable outside but now it was busy. The house stood facing Phil’s own cabin, a small pond below the bridges connecting them, beacons shining nearby, Ranboo’s house not so far, a large herd of cows in a pen, polar bears inside and outside the house, a dog kennel and several dogs lounging in and out of it. It was nothing like the desolate and lonely house Tommy had last seen it as. He took a breath and shook his head. Clearly Technoblade was fine. He had Ranboo, Phil, his animals. He wouldn’t be alone. It was a bittersweet thought. On one hand he didn’t want Technoblade to be left entirely alone. He was angry but…Techno had been kind to him. Given him gifts, a home, hidden him. But on the other hand…it felt like Tommy was being abandoned, replaced. Ranboo had taken his spot as Tubbo’s best friend. Hell they were married and raising a child. Now Ranboo was living happily alongside Technoblade and Phil. Tommy wasn’t a fan of the pattern he was seeing. But unfortunately Ranboo was disgustingly pleasant. He considered turning back, maybe even just tossing the shell onto the porch by the door and making a run for it before anybody saw him, but in his moment of hesitation the decision was made for him. Techno closed the door behind him and turned, freezing, bow slung over his shoulder.

“…you weren’t supposed to see me here.” Tommy said hesitantly when he realized Techno wouldn’t say anything first.

“Your helmet,” Techno said, pointing at the turtle shell clenched in Tommy’s hands. 

“Yeah. I was going to return it to you.” Tommy said, shrugging awkwardly.

“…why?”

“You know why. Don’t act stupid.” Tommy said glaring at Techno. “You can’t expect me to not be upset after finding out you abandoned me and lied to me my whole life. I know you’re not good with people but you can’t be that stupid.”

“I’m sorry, I know, I was just… you should keep the helmet Theseus-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t use that stupid fucking nickname!” Tommy yelled.

“…I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I promise you I didn’t want it to go the way it did.” Techno said, sighing.

“You’d take it back? Fat load of good that does now.”

“No. I’d do the same. Not this part. Not keeping it a secret.”

“Thanks. Makes me feel so much better to know you still don’t want me.” Tommy said sarcastically. 

“What? Of course I wanted you.” Techno said, frowning and walking down the steps to stand in front of Tommy.

“Then why did you get rid of me so easily? Why didn’t you want me to know you?” Tommy asked, rage boiling in his chest.

“Giving you to someone else was the hardest thing I ever did. I spent a year as your dad, your first word was papa, you were my heart and soul.” Techno said softly. “I had to give you to someone else. I had to give you a better home Tommy.”

“Why couldn’t you have kept me?” Tommy asked, the venomous tone in his voice dying down slightly.

“Come, I’ll tell you everything. It’s too cold out here and you don’t have a coat,” Techno said, walking back up the stairs. Tommy was going to refuse, but his legs moved automatically, and he followed Techno inside. Techno gestured for him to sit at the table and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the wood stove and pulling out cups. “Usual?” Techno asked, looking over his shoulder. Tommy nodded and watched Techno pull out the sugar and milk. The tea was done quickly and Techno set Tommy’s cup in front of him, sitting across the table from him. “How much do you want to know?” Techno asked after taking a breath. 

“Everything. I want you to be honest with me.” Tommy replied curtly.

“Alright. I suppose I should start with your name. Theseus is your actual name, Tommy was a nickname. Your mom called you Tommy, so it stuck.” Techno admitted.

“It…wasn’t just a stupid nickname?”

“No.”

“You have terrible taste in names big man.” Tommy said, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, you may be right on that,” Techno replied, laughing. 

“My mother…what happened?” Tommy asked.

“She died a few hours after you were born. There were some issues, we knew she wasn’t gonna make it weeks before, so she decided that she would just hold you until she went. And she did just that.” Techno sighed. Tommy couldn’t figure out the look on Techno’s face. He seemed to be both sad and happy at the same time. It was odd, he hadn’t seen Techno look like this before. 

“Did you love her?”

“Absolutely. The only person I ever loved more is you.” Techno replied easily. “We didn’t get married, but it didn’t matter much to us.”

“What was she like?” 

“She was…like you actually. Everything I could only hope to become. She was kind, happy, she was always smiling. She saw the good in everything and everyone, and she stood up for what she believed in regardless of the cost. You look just like her, you have her hair and her eyes. You’re more her than me, that’s a good thing.” Techno said, smiling fondly on the memories of her. He saw so much of her in Tommy and he was unbelievably grateful for it.

“So…why did you give me up then? If you were so happy to have me or whatever?” Tommy asked, not looking at Techno. He heard him sigh deeply and almost retracted the question but decided not to. He had a right to know.

“You know about chat? The voices I hear?” Tommy nodded in response. “Well… sometimes chat is too hard for me to handle. Sometimes they take over. Sometimes they win. And one night they almost did.” Techno reached out and held Tommy’s jaw loosely, thumb running over the scar there. “They almost won and I almost lost you. You deserved a dad who didn’t try to kill you. You deserved a stable family, I didn’t want you to grow up not feeling safe cause I couldn’t control myself. So I gave you to Phil.” Techno pulled away and sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Did you ever wish you hadn’t?” 

“That’s…hard. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish it wasn’t what had been best at that time. I wish I hadn’t needed to do it, but I don’t regret it. I would’ve loved to have been your father for as long as I lived. But I wasn’t about to risk your life for my happiness.” Techno explained.

Tommy had wanted to stay angry. Some pet of him still was, deep down. He still wanted to hit and scream and throw a tantrum, but the other part, the larger, more rational part, the part of him that had been through everything including death and war, felt the anger wash away. He hadn’t been abandoned. He was wanted. He was loved. He was cared for. It had been out of necessity, not because Techno just didn’t want him. Tommy couldn’t remember the scar, or getting it. Some part of him was scared but he remembered doomsday. Techno had a clear chance to kill him. To end it there. But he didn’t. He knew Techno wouldn’t hurt him, even if he was pissed. 

“…I died.” Tommy said quietly. He heard Techno draw in a sharp breath.

“I know.”

“Did…did you care?”

“It destroyed me. I almost killed Philza. There’s a grave site on a mountain a few hours from here. I carved the headstone and planted the flowers. I cared.” Techno said quietly. Tommy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and with it came a river of tears. Sixteen years of anger, frustration, misery, loneliness, isolation, all of it, came rushing out as he nearly choked on his sobs. He wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to stop himself but he couldn’t. He kept sobbing and the tears kept coming. He felt arms wrap around him and let them pull him onto the ground. He leaned into someone, sitting on their lap. It took a few moments for him to realize it was Techno.

Tommy turned and buried his face into his shoulder, sobbing freely into it, soaking Techno’s shirt with tears. He felt Techno gently rubbing his back and quietly mumbling as he kept crying, encouraging him to let it out. It felt like forever before he stopped, head pounding, eyes burning and exhausted. He drew in a deep shaky breath, sitting up again and laughing pitifully.

“This is your fault,” he said lightly, not actually angry.

“I’ll try to stop messing up,” Techno replied, laughing and smiling. He gently brushed the hair in Tommy’s eyes behind his ear and smiled at him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I was going to but I just…didn’t.” Techno added, sighing.

“It’s okay…well it’s not but… I forgive you,” Tommy said. He paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if later you were my dad again,” he added tentatively. Techno’s face lit up.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Yeah…we can try again.” Tommy said, nodding.

“I’ll do better,” Techno said sincerely. He paused and thought. “Can I call you Theseus?” He added.

“Yeah…I’m okay with that. Only you though. It’s a dumb name,” Tommy replied, smiling. Techno laughed and nodded.

“Fair enough. Thank you for giving me another chance kid,” Techno said softly, holding Tommy close to his chest.

“Thank you for wanting to give it a shot,” Tommy answered, letting himself lean into Techno and relax for what felt like the first time in ages. It felt like home.

https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/32077654

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