#so the next step on the path to retirement really would be to to reserve & probably quit the solo act to a degree

[fletcherawhitlock]

[ chris wood, cis-male, he/him] - was that fletcher alexander whitlock i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the thirty year old who has been in nightrest his entire life and works as an owner of spirits has a reputation of being protective, but also sarcastic. they reside in low point & people in town usually associate them with confidence that could kill, clenched fists and fighting outside bars. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next. 

BIOGRAPHY

Fletcher, his twin and older sister grew up in a loving and sometimes stable household. Their parents, both hardworking citizens, absolutely doted on their children. They were their world  and it showed in their parenting. The twins were inseparable, and had no trouble making friends wherever they went despite Fletcher’s charismatic nature. His twin on the other hand, was the opposite: reserved and quiet, she drew others in like a magnet with her mystery. Wherever he went, she did too, therefore his friends became hers. It didn’t bother him in slightest, to think that she never really had friends of his own — so long as his twin was happy, he was too. Their happiness, however, was short lived as the eve of their twelfth birthday arrived.

As on that day, the unthinkable would happen. Everything they had come to love would be stripped from their very fingertips. It wasn’t their fault, nor was it anyone’s, really. Fletcher had been staying over at a friend’s home, completely oblivious to the fact he was about to loose his parents and twin sister. The perpetrator was quiet in the night, silent as they crept though the unlocked door, and shot the three family members in their beds while they slept. Waking up the next morning, Fletcher felt somewhat empty and he would only come to know why when he arrived home to a swarm of police officers and his hysterical sisters. For the next six months, the two remaining Williams children would bounce from foster home to foster home as they searched for the love they had lost. While they would never find it, they still had each other — and that was all that mattered, despite the hole that his deceased sister had left behind. Things, however, began looking up when their long lost uncle arrived on the scene, taking both siblings into his care. The extended family they never knew they had, nor needed, and they couldn’t have come at a better time.

The deaths marked a turning point in his life, because he lost a part of himself when his twin sister died and with that he too became lost. Harboring an anger so deep even he himself couldn’t control it, let alone fathom what he was capable of because of it. He needed purpose – to belong to something that wasn’t going to break as his family had.  And that was where his uncle came in: he saw potential in Fletcher. And before he and his sister knew it, they were not only attending high-school, but starting their journey on what would be a grueling training program behind the closed doors of their home. Training that involved a number of MMA classes, hand to hand combat, espionage and variety of other teachings that would enable them to follow in their uncles footsteps as hired muscle, or at the very least make a name for themselves.

While his sister found her own path, for Fletcher, this became his purpose: a light at the end of the tunnel, an outlet for his anger, and he thrived with his newfound mission. A number of years later when the elder William’s stepped into retirement, Fletcher was quick to take his place amidst his network. Only when he was ready did the truth of his family’s deaths come to light. There had been a hit on their head, with his father an accountant for some bad people, they had seen it their place to take him out. Only they had gone a step further and taken his mother and baby sister as well. The news only added more fuel to the ticking time bomb that was Fletcher Alexander Whitlock. The child prodigy was quick to prove himself, meticulous in his art, the male simply had had a taste for revenge and he wanted more. And one day when the time came, when he was good and ready he would extract his vengeance and take off the head of his parents murderer.

Working various security jobs about town just to make ends meet, Fletcher was often described as a loose cannon. And while he was kept under employment because there was little to nothing he wouldn’t do, he did have a tendency to fly off the handle more often than not. His anger would take a good few years to even gain the smallest ounce of control. But it was enough to allow him to prove he was in control of his actions, at least under the watchful eye of his employers. Desperate to make a name for himself,  the male had a vast array of adolescent felonies under his belt before he so much as breached the age of 18. From arson, robbery, drug dealing to assault, the list continued to only get bigger as the months passed. And when he was paid to beat a shopkeepers daughter, only to realize she was someone he had gone to school with – his humanity let him down and he couldn’t do it. As much as he wanted so desperately to be every bit of the man his uncle had helped carve from the darkness that shaped him, perhaps there was much more left of the little boy with bright blue eyes that cared about others more than himself, than he dared to admit. 

Over a decade later Fletcher is not the angry adolescent teenage boy he once was, while that fire still simmers away beneath the surface, he’s much more skilled in the art of control. Settling into an apartment of his own was the first step in the shift away from the world that was his uncles and father’s within the underbelly of Nightrest. Straightening his life out hadn’t been an choice, it was but the only option -- least when it came to ensuring his sister wasn’t left completely alone when he found himself in an early grave, or worse, prison. Thus when his uncle passed away and he inherited a small amount of money, becoming a legitimate business' owner was the logical step,  life went on as he knew it and the man found a new normal. Trouble always had a way of finding Fletcher Williams and it did so in the form of some of his uncles old friends from Boston, whom would once again entice the orphan boy back into the throws of darkness. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

childhood bestfriends - 

ride or die -  

friends -

drinking buddy -

work rivalry -

high school ex-girlfriend -

friends with benefits -

gym buddy - 

#nightrest:intro #( x. | biography )

[keigoslovebird]

Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball. 

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins. 

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end. 

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you. 

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.” 

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms. 

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. 

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball. 

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi. 

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject. 

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed. 

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two  completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose. 

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for. 

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy. 

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay. 

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is. 

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp. 

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?” 

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him. 

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest. 

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly. 

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit. 

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place. 

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is.  Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. 

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else. 

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body. 

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.” 

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.” 

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue. 

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight. 

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts. 

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom. 

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him. 

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?” 

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames. 

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home. 

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime. 

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband. 

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug. 

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.” 

 Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

 The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep. 

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in. 

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.” 

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep. 

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist. 

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together. 

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #hq smut #hq fanfic #reader insert #hq reader insert #hq imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima smut #bunny scribbles

[bigfrozenfan-fanfics]

Chapter 08 - The secret

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting.

It was just before dawn when Mattias rode off to meet his companions. There was hardly anyone on the streets and he greeted friendly when he came past someone. After he passed the last house and took the path to the upper rock gate, he saw in the distance a vehicle with a canvas-covered body standing at the side of the road. When his companions noticed him, they waved at him.

When he reached them, he did not dismount but bent down and gave each of them a hand as a greeting. Both wore unobtrusive civil clothing.

“Good morning Trygve, good morning Kristina,” he said, sat up again and put both hands on top of each other on the pommel. “Ready for another trip to the Enchanted Forest?” he asked jokingly.

Trygve pulled a face, “Not really. It cost me almost my whole life.”

Kristina agreed and said, “Yes, I feel the same way. But you know, General Mattias, that we will always stand by your side faithfully. I hope we'll be away from there as soon as possible and I can enjoy my retirement on my little houseboat. The fjord is always better than that dreadful forest.”

Mattias nodded seriously, “I can understand that very well and I'm thankful for your willing to help me on this, hopefully very short mission, to get Elsa back to Arendelle incognito. I also want to return to Arendelle as soon as possible, to my dearest Halima. How have you been doing since you came back? We haven't had much of a chance to talk about it.”

“Well, I am back with my family and we are all doing very well. The financial support from the royal family, respectively from Queen Anna, has helped us all a lot and it makes life more comfortable,” answered Trygve.

Kristina looked far less satisfied and hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Unfortunately I have no one else. My relatives died three and four years ago. I visited their grave only last week. But I have made new friends and we do a lot together. I was also able to buy a houseboat and a small sloop with my severance pay. I sail out with it very often on the fjord.” After a little while, she added, “Over all, I'm doing quite well and I can be happy to spend my retirement in Arendelle this way.”

“I'm happy for you,” said Mattias and smiled, but then, turning to Kristina with a sad expression on his face, he added, “I'm sorry for you, Kristina, that you were not able to see your relatives again. My deepest condolences.”

She nodded sadly, "Thank you."

Trygve had looked at her with concern during her narration and now put a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry for you, Kristina, I didn't know.” They looked at each other. “Let's do something together when we get back ... and hey, if you don't mind I'd like to go for a sail on your sloop with you. I'll bring the food too.”

She laughed and nodded. “I'd love to, Trygve.” But then they both lapsed into thoughtful silence.

“All right, folks, the sun's coming up over the horizon. We should slowly set off,” Mattias interrupted their thoughts and took the reins in his hand.

The two nodded and got on the wagon side by side. Trygve had the draught horse trotted, Mattias rode after them. When they had passed the rock gate, Mattias looked back. The first sunrays had already reached the upper part of the castle and bathed the top in a warm light.

~~~

It was of course Olaf who was the first to notice that something was different than usual. While Kristoff and Anna were still enjoying their togetherness in bed, he had already gone outside in the early morning hours and looked around the camp. Since he had been able to read and write, had read all the books he found in the castle for the last two years, and was now even a regular guest in the Arendelle library, he had developed a new view of the world around him. He was curious and liked to combine contexts that no one else saw as he did. Where others took many things for granted, he questioned everything and was the only one who noticed that the Northuldra camp was unusually empty this morning. Apart from women and children, not a single one of the men was to be seen.

“Tell me, guys, isn't it curious that there are barely any men around the camp today? All I see are some women and their little ones.”

Anna and Kristoff sat together with him still a bit sleepy at the fireplace and looked now first at him, but then also peered around surprised.

“You are right, Olaf,” Anna said and raised her eyebrows. “Where did they all go?”

“Maybe they have heavy work to do and need all the strong men for it?” Kristoff surmised and shrugged his shoulders.

“Or maybe they are doing what they often do in Arendelle Castle in the morning when one of those council meetings is taking place,” Olaf replied. Anna and Kristoff looked at him in amazement.

“Might well be,” Anna pondered and nodded thoughtfully, but what could be so important and why didn't they tell me about it; she asked herself. It certainly has something to do with Elsa, but I am her sister and Queen of Arendelle after all, so I should also be informed about everything that concerns her. She made a thoughtful face.

“Let’s gonna find it out,” Kristoff said and stood up. Then he went straight to the next Northuldra woman who was repairing the tunic of one of her children. “Excuse me, but we were just wondering where all your men went. It's so empty in the camp today.”

“They have important things to do today,” she said with a smile and returned to her work. Kristoff turned to Anna, pursed his lips and, with his shoulders raised, spread his arms wide to communicate the disappointing answer.

Anna frowned and now also stood up to ask the next woman the same question. She headed for a young woman who was cutting vegetables for the morning soup in front of her kota. But Anna did not receive a satisfactory answer either, as her expression indicated, when she turned around again and looked at her companions helplessly.

Shaking her head, she went back. “I guess we won't get an answer from anyone else either, by the looks of it.” They both sat down again and looked at one another questioningly.

What have they got to hide; Anna asked herself, and above all why? She put her head in her hands and pondered.

~~~

Two Northuldra men waded through a shallow part of a quietly flowing wide creek and started to run faster once they reached the other side. The forest was slowly getting denser and man-sized bushes seemed to block the way. But the men knew exactly where a hidden path led through the undergrowth, and shortly afterwards they were no longer to be seen.

When they came out on the other side they stepped into a wide clearing. In the center was a large, elongated building, the upper part of which consisted of a tower-like construction, with skilfully timbered beams that protruded from the symmetrically built roof and ended at the upper end under a pyramid-shaped, open spire. Inside, a narrow wooden staircase led to the top, ending in a small platform. The lower part of the building had some narrow window openings placed remarkably high below the long roof boards, designed exclusively to let light into the interior.

Besides from the central entrance no windows were visible. Instead, at regular intervals long white birch branches were attached to the house in such a way that it almost looked as if they would support the whole structure. The branches protruded through the overhanging roof and then branched filigree upwards. Around the house, large birch trees grew at regular intervals, which were conspicuously straight and with their foliage formed a natural roof over the entire clearing and the building. This place looked impressive and almost magical.

The men rushed through the open double door and one of them pulled it shut behind him.

“Oh man, there you are at last, you're late! You must have been up against a big fish again, Joná?” joked one of the men standing near the entrance, laughing at the fisherman. It was the same one who had been on the beach the day before with a few others to interrogate Joná. Behind him, the hall was filled with Northuldra men, who seemed to be waiting for something, and some of them were talking animatedly.

Joná pulled a face, “Of course not, Völund, but the catch has to be brought to the camp by somebody, or do you want to have stinking fish on your plate later?” Völund waved off bored and turned around again.

The two fishermen looked at each other for a moment, nodded suspiciously and sneaked to the right side of the hall, where there was a second, smaller entrance. This door was wide open. Joná looked around and had to admit to himself that they had apparently really been the last, all the men from the camp were already present. Then he looked up in amazement. The room was very high with an open beam construction. Daylight flooded through the narrow windows. Torch holders were placed under each opening, and underneath them ran a balustrade around the entire interior. At the front, opposite the double doorway, a narrow staircase wound upwards, part of which led inwards in a semicircle and ended in a small opening at the top leading to the tower they had seen from the outside.

Joná had never been here, but of course he knew about the place and the purpose of it. In earlier days there was always a big kota in their camp, with a second entrance remarkably similar to the one he was standing next to now. This access was usually reserved for the shaman, the Noaidi of their people and this kota was used exclusively for rituals and the Norting, a grand assembly of his people. But this was long before his time and on recent decades, as he knew, there was no need of calling out a Great Ting. The last time was before the dam was built and the diplomatic negotiations with the foreigners from Arendelle were started. On these days, their elder had called for a meeting, but was shortly after murdered by this king behind his back. Today Yelana was their unspoken leader, and now it fell to her to proclaim a Norting if neccessary.

Joná was too young back then to attend such a meeting, but his father had told him all about it. Every man in his tribe ought to attend it as they came of age. At least when the opportunity arose. Today was apparently such a day, and Yelana, although not a Noaidi, just came in through the side door. She glanced around the hall for a moment and nodded at him briefly when she noticed him. Joná raised an eyebrow in surprise. Then she circled the waiting men and stood on one of the lower stairs to be heard well everywhere. It became quiet among those present.

She cleared her throat. “Traditionally, I am obliged to call a Norting when an important decision is about to be made and its consequence affect all of us. There are disturbing news related to recent events.”

In the hall there was a low murmur and many looked at each other with concern.

“However, I must first point out that my conclusions are based on suppositions, some of which have not yet been confirmed. Highly plausible assumptions, however. Our fifth spirit Elsa was probably attacked on purpose and there is possibly a certain person behind all this, someone who might have a good reason for it. That someone is also most likely behind the disappearance of the other four nature spirits.”

The worried murmurings in the hall abruptly increased.

“Hear me. I had a hunch, so I went to see Gyda yesterday.”

From the ranks of those present, someone shouted out loud and clear, “Gyda? What does this old witch have to do with it?”

Yelana's gaze swept around, angrily fixating on the one who presumed to disturb her speech and pointing at him with an admonishing index finger. “Be quiet and don't interrupt me! You have no idea what you are talking about. Gyda is not who many of us think she is. She is a solitary person, I admit, but she has been through a lot in her life, and if you would let me finish, you would understand.”

Yelana took a deep breath and outlined in short, rough words what Gyda had told her and how much it had burdened her. However, she left out the climax for now. Yelana was known for her seriousness, but there was one thing she did not miss out on, and that was to bring certain things to the point at the right time. Some of the younger men opened their eyes in surprise when she ended, but didn't dare say anything. Yelana noticed it, of course.

“Yes, those of you who were born under the mist may not have known it yet, but before Elsa, we had another fifth spirit. The older ones among you, including me, still knew him. He was difficult to deal with him, to say the least.”

Some nodded affirmatively.

“It was Gyda's own decision that she lived in seclusion ever since, and many of us have supported it. We have all, in our gullibility, judged her prematurely.”

One could see how many of the heads were lowered and it became quiet as a mouse.

And then Yelana got to the point, and somehow she enjoyed that moment, “Gyda had a son!”

It was quiet for a second, and everyone remained motionless to process what they had heard, but in the next second a wave of excited, loud word fragments burst onto Yelana, when most people suddenly realized what it meant. Yelana let them go for a few moments, but then struck several times hard with her gnarled birch cane on one of the steps above her. The whole construction vibrated and boomed and it became instantly quiet again in the hall.

“We do not know what he is capable of. But the fact that he apparently has the spirits under control and tried to kill Elsa and almost succeeded tells me that he is not to be underestimated by no means. He is different from his father in one crucial respect. He's out for revenge. Revenge on all those who were partly responsible for his father's death. Revenge on all those who came from Arendelle, home of that murderer Runeard.” She let the words sink in, then continued in a softer, but insistent voice.

“I deliberately did not invite Queen Anna and her companions, for as long as they are among us, we too may be the target of Kolgrimr, the name Gyda gave to him. For the time being, none of them may know our secret of the old fifth spirit and his son, and if they had not already planned to leave tomorrow and take Elsa with them, I would have arranged for it myself. Both Anna and Elsa are half Northuldra and half Arendellian and are descended from one of our oldest families. We owe them both so much when they freed us last year and we have made a new peace between us and Arendelle. But I admonish you all anyway. All this is something that we cannot control and we all have to decide this way, because unfortunately there is still something you do not know.”

Yelana paused in the silence and then looked over to Joná. “Come here, Joná,” she said forcefully and waved him over.

All heads turned and looked into the corner where he was standing. Völund's jaw dropped and Joná didn't know what was happening to him. He hesitated and looked around him nervously.

“You need not be afraid. Come...,” Yelana added reassuringly. Slowly he moved towards her, his head lowered and he wished he could hide now, it was clearly visible on his face. Finally he stood next to her and she put her hand on his shoulder.

“Because we had just talked about the fact that many of us have many prejudices and show a lack of respect for one of our own. Here stands Joná and he has done something that showed a lot of courage and conviction to want to help us all. He dared to approach Ahtohallan with his boat despite the ban, because he wanted to find out what was behind all these events. I don't mean to say that I approve, but he found out something that we otherwise wouldn’t know and which was ultimately decisive in convening this Norting.” She whispered to him that he could go back, and Joná hurried to comply.

“Ahtohallan lies beneath a magical fog wall, identical to the one that trapped most of us here for over 34 years. This is probably also the reason why Ahtohallan no longer has a connection to the nature spirits and can no longer help us. There is only one person who can be responsible for this and I hope you now understand why we are all in great danger if this kind of threat should come upon us.”

The ensuing turmoil was indescribable and Yelana had a hard time bringing everyone back to their senses. In the end, she raised both arms and moved her hands up and down to appease them.

“Please calm down again! I can understand your concern, but we are not his main target, please be aware of that. Kolgrimr survived somewhere under the mist completely alone for over 35 years since he was a seven year old kid and he never turned against us once. I guess none of us can even imagine the hatred and despise he has for Arendelle. That is also the reason why none of them can stay among us here. He has only recently started to put his plans into action and I can only hope that Elsa will very soon remember who she was before and what powers she once had. Keep your eyes and ears open and tell me immediately if you discover anything unusual. But please, stay away from him. He may be Northuldra, but no one can say what has become of him in all this time.”

Yelana took a deep breath and finally dissolved the assembly. “That's all for now. You can go back to camp now.”

As the last of them had streamed out of the hall, she sat down on the stairs, a little exhausted. “I don't want to be in the shoes of the Arendellians and I hope that Elsa still has her magic,” she muttered softly to herself and it sounded almost like a prayer.

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know.

Remarks: Back when I was writing this chapter, I dreamed of this hidden building and always wished that someone might be able to draw it for me or that I would be able to do it myself. It wasn't until recently that I dared to do an edit and took Disney's concept art of the Northuldra-style Arendelle Castle as a basis for my story and modified it accordingly. I wish I had better quality imagery for the two Northuldra fishermen there, it took me quite a bit of effort. Hope you like the result.

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 08 #bigfrozenfan

[blazedgraysons]

You're No Good - Ch. 2

C.J. Bennett is an overly ambitious student who dreams of shadowing her favorite author, Eli Jennings. The only thing standing in her way: Grayson Dolan.

warnings: this is a rough draft of a series i never finished. i'm posting the finished chapters before leaving this account. 🤍

part 1

If American Lit 1102 was C.J.’s personal hell, her job could at least be considered her own reprieve.

Sunnyside Vintage is an old shop off of Sunset, having been open for the last 30 years. It wasn’t the nicest of thrift stores — the clothes always have a weird mothball smell and everything is old - and not in the trendy way.  C.J. loves it. The windows are huge, letting California sunlight wash the stucco walls gold, and the mannequins are always dressed straight out of the 70’s. The pay isn’t always great, but C.J. is allowed to take whatever she wants more than makes up for it in her eyes.

“I just don’t understand. I mean, Stevens has praised me this entire semester. She even told me personally he’s never had a student write as well as me nor pick up on the work as fast as I have. Wouldn’t that be qualities you’d want in an intern, Bea? Even Grayson Dolan would’ve been a better pick.” C.J. turns to her boss, angrily folding flared jeans.

Another reason C.J. loves Sunnyside —  her boss, Beatrice “Bea” Walker. Once a glitzy soap star of the ’50’s, she retired with her husband and opened Sunnyside in the late 80’s. Despite being in her late-70s, she still holds on to the same glamour and charm that made her a household name a century prior.

“Maybe there was another reason. It could be something other then your application.” She croaks, lifting a pumpkin to place next to a costumed mannequin. As halloween rapidly approaches, the store was starting to transform to fit the fall season — hoping to draw in customers to purchase unique costumes for the holiday.

Before she can move to help Bea, the doors chime, signaling an entrance. Walking through with seemingly-glowing skin and a symphonic smile was Alexi, C.J.’s best friend and roommate. It’s hard to miss Alexi whenever she walks into a room — from her bleached-blue hair to eclectic style, she’s never been afraid to follow her own path, something C.J. has always admired. She walks straight to C.J., wrapping her in a loving embrace

“Are you okay? James told me what happened.” Alexi leaves an arm around her, and while C.J. knows it’s supposed to be comforting; all she can think about is how much she wants Alexi to leave. It’s one thing to rant to her elderly boss, someone who would love her in spite of her shortcomings and faults. But to know her own friend group has already heard about her misfortune, sending over someone to comfort and soothe, it was all just a little too pitiful for her to handle.

“Theta’s are throwing a party tonight. It’ll be the perfect pick-me-up, and you can forget all about Evans Jensen-“

“Eli Jennings” C.J. corrects.

“Whoever” Alexi rolls her eyes at the interruption, “is missing out on your incredible talent because of an idiotic professor’s incompetence. Everyone’s going and it won’t be the same without you, C.”

“As much as I would love that, Lex, I really just want to be alone tonight. Shitty beer, cheap Indian food, a sad movie so I don’t have to think about how these past four years have been a waste.”

“Not a waste, first of all. Look, I know that you’ve had this whole plan for your life since you popped out the womb, but shit happens, things change. This isn’t a failure, just think of it as a temporary setback. Plus, when life gives you lemons, you…” She trails off, waiting for C.J. to finish.

“Make lemonade?” She sighs.

“Use it to chase tequila.” Alexi giggles.

“I would go, but I have to close. Right, Bea?"

"Don't use me as an excuse. You should go, maybe find a boy to take home." Alexi makes a face at Beatrice's statement and C.J.'s face heats up.

“You’re going - no more buts. Wear something cute. Something that maybe doesn’t make if look like you were alive for Vietnam.” Alexi’s already leaving, kissing Beatrice lightly on the cheek on her way out.

This was how C.J. found herself standing outside the Theta Lambda  frat house, October air chilling her through her jacket. She shifts her weight between her feet, surveying the small group around her. Alexi talks animatedly on the phone, asking for whoever to meet them out front.

A random person bumps into her, forcing her to spill the contents of her purse onto the dewey grass. C.J. groans, bending down to pick everything up while mentally thinking to herself all of the other things she could be doing right now.

A pair of dirty air forces steps in front of C.J. and she slowly looks up at the girl standing in front of her. She’s pretty, stunning actually. C.J. recognizes her immediately. Channing Williams - social chair of Rho Xi sorority and the key to all the best parties on campus. Dressed in a black romper and red velvet jacket, she’s everything C.J. isn’t and a quiet twinge of jealousy plucks her heart. ‘I bet she’s never lost out on an internship.’ she thinks bitterly.

“Sorry, do you know anyone?”  Channing asks, voice soft and sweet with a clipboard in hand. C.J. looks at Alexi, waiting to hear her answer.

“Not really? I mean we know people, but we aren’t going to be on your clipboard or anything so if you could just let us slide through, I’m sure there’s someone here who could like vouch for us or something?” C.J. wants to slap her — not only did she drag her out in below-freezing weather, but she couldn’t even guarantee them a way inside.

“Well this is a greek-only party so unless you know anyone….” Channing trails off, not openly wanting to kick them out in front of so many people.

“That means no GDI’s.” C.J. didn’t even notice the miniature-sized freshman standing besides Channing. She clearly looks annoyed at the intrusion, keeping her from inside where everyone else is to deal with their little group. C.J. briefly wonders if the upturned stare is a requirement for Rho Xi or if that’s was just especially reserved for her.

“Geed’s?” Alexi repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Goddamn independents. Y’know, not greek-affiliated.” At this point, C.J. is ready to call the whole night and retire in her bed when she see’s someone appear in between Channing.

“They’re cool, Chan. They’re with me.” Micayla Zhao enters, covered in glitter, sweat and what C.J. is almost sure to be a line of salt from a body shot. C.J. has always considered Micayla the only cool Rho Xi, having had multiple classes with her over the years. Micayla fit right in with their group: smart, beautiful and a wicked sense of humor.

Channing nods, seeming bored and just wanting to get back inside with everyone else. She does a quick finger tap with Micayla (sacred Rho Xi bullshit is what Alexi always calls it) and moving along the line.

“Are your sisters always that charming?” Micayla rolls her eyes, grabbing C.J. to move them through the house to the backyard. A huge bonfire is set up in the middle with a canopy near by for the designated drinking spot. She watches as Micayla confidently moves through the crowd, stopping from time to time to say hey to friends and classmates on the way.

“Most of the time. Look, they’re just possessive over tradition and the Rho-Theta party has always been major exclusive, Channing’s been fighting to make it open to outsiders.” Micayla yells over the thumping bass.

“Yeah, I’m sure they love all the GDI’s.”  C.J. exaggerates her voice, pinching her nose to capture the nasally, valley accent Channing is almost famous for. Micayla stops, and had C.J. not been paying attention, she would’ve ran into her.

“Dude, you’re kind of being a bitch right now. Look, I get your bummed about your internship, but Channing wouldn't have let you in if she didn't want to. Would you rather be getting drunk, in your apartment alone?”

“Yeah, actually.” Micayla stares at C.J. for a second, looking like she’s about to bitch her out. As if Alexi can sense the fight forming, she grabs Micayla by the arm.

“Let’s go get a drink, you look like you need a drink in you.” They both walk towards the house, Alexi mouthing ‘Be Nice’ over her shoulder before disappearing completely. C.J. exhales, counting to 3 in her head before walking over to where drinks are set up.She fills up her solo cup, watching as the fizzy liquid moves closer and closer to the top.  Before she can take a sip, someone bumps into her spilling half the drink over the side.

“Hey, watch it!” A thick Jersey accent exclaims, and C.J. groans, wondering if this night could get any worse.

“Bennett?”

Grayson appears in front of her, denim jacket over a black t-shirt and black jeans. She takes note of the dark spot growing on the front of his shirt, from where she spilt her drink.

“What’re you doing here?”

She simply shrugs, refilling the missing contents of her cup.“I didn’t know parties were your scene. I always imagined in your free time you’re in like a dark room, crying alone to Sylvia Plath novels.”

“Nice to know you think of me out of class, Grayson” C.J. takes a sip of her beer. She moves to walk away, hoping he would take it as an end of conversation.

"How'd you get in? Isn't this like Rho's only?" He asks, following her to the edge of the bonfire. She looks at him, watching as the light frames the features of his face.

"Couldn't I say the same about you? You're not a Theta." He just stares at her intensely until she relents, "Micayla Zhao got me in. Y'know her?"

"We had history together sophomore year. She helped me cheat on the midterms."

C.J. laughs shortly. "Sounds like her."

Grayson opens his mouth to speak again, but is cut off.

“As much as I’m enjoying this conversation, Grayson, don’t you have someone else to bother? Someone who, y’know, actually likes you?” If that comment bothered him, he didn’t show it, continuing talking to her as if they haven’t pissed each other off continuously for the past four years.

“What do you think about Michael Eichler getting the internship spot?”  He asks. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she didn’t get the spot, now she has to sit and rub salt in the wound with her worst enemy.

“What’s there to think about? He got it, I didn’t. Fucking sucks.” He laughs, holding up his own drink.

“Cheers to that.” They both clink cups, and C.J. briefly wonders if the universe is still laughing at her.

"You know, that spot should've gone to one of us." He muses, watching the partygoers continue to stumble around them. He doesn't say anything after that, and she bites.

"Why should it have gone to one of us?"

"Well, think about it. We're both the top of our class, and I know for a fact Stevens has submitted your writing to collegiate magazines. There's no fucking way Michael fucking Eichler should've got that spot over one of us." C.J. pauses. She had known that Stevens appreciated her writing, but not enough to submit it anywhere. If what Grayson was saying was true, why hadn't she gotten the apprenticeship?

"Nothing I can really do about it now. He got the spot, I didn't. I guess I can become a second rate author now." She takes another sip, and Grayson snorts unattractively.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, Bennett. If Stevens like you, I'm sure there's another author dumb enough to want to publish your work too." She glares at him.

"And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"As if you actually would've wanted to become friends with me."

"Oh yeah, that's what I do in between my Sylvia Plath crying sessions. Desperately wish that Grayson Dolan would become my best friend." Sarcasm drips off every word and he looks at her before taking another long sip of his drink.

“You know you’re actually kinda cool, Bennett. When you’re not trying to bite my head off in the middle of lecture”

“Maybe if you didn’t have such shitty takes, I wouldn’t want too.” Whatever retort Grayson was planning falls from his lips when Channing appears by his side, tucking herself underneath his arm.

"Hey, Gray. I got you another drink." Two Coronas hang from her manicured hand, and he whispers inaudibly to her, giggling between the two of them. C.J. begins to feel awkward, and coughs uncomfortably.

“Oh, you’re the GDI from earlier,” Channing looks up at her half-lidded, dark eyelashes framing red-tinged brown eyes.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Channing shifts her weight, biting her lip and feeling like an intruder. "I didn't know you two knew each other?" C.J. supplies, feeling desperate for conversation

"Gray and I had math together freshman year, "They both stare at each other awkwardly, silent tension as they wait for the other to speak.

“So, I’m gonna go." She speaks.

“No, you don’t have to." Channing is already turned back to Grayson, looking like she wouldn't mind C.J.'s exit.

“No it’s fine” Neither Grayson nor Channing seem to protest anymore, and C.J. turns back to see her friends looking at her, both amused and curious at her interaction with the duo. She begins to walk towards them, feet and heart sinking with every step, not feeling any better about her current predicament.

“Hey Bennett,” She turns around to face Grayson. “Think about what I said. About the internship stuff” She just nods, and leaves the pair. The moment she reaches her initial group, Alexi pulls her towards them.

“You and Dolan were just talking and it didn't end in a screaming match. That’s new. What did he want?”

“Nothing. Just typical Grayson Dolan bullshit."Alexi looks like she doesn't believe her, and frankly C.J. doesn't believe herself. She thinks back to what Grayson said, about how they were the only real competition for the apprenticeship. Whatever he meant by that could be handled tomorrow.

"C’mon. Didn’t  you say something earlier today about tequila shots?” She asks

“Atta, girl. That’s what I’m talking about.” She lets Alexi drag her away, sparing one last look at Grayson before entering the fraternity house.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan series #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x y/n #dolan twins #dolan twins series #dolan twins smut #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins fluff #dolan twins angst #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins x y/n

[alolowrites]

The Point of No Return

Summary: Your relationship with Toshinori is put to the test after he refuses to back down from his responsibility for being the Symbol of Peace.

~~~

Mirai called you at work.

He never called you unless it was an absolute emergency about Toshinori. As thousands of worst case scenarios raced through your head, your finger jabbed the phone’s screen to answer the call.

Mirai’s frantic voice attacked against your ear like a massive tidal wave that crashed on the beach shore. He never paused to breathe, his words foaming out of his mouth with no end in sight. You barely understood what he was saying, but you realized something was wrong.

He was frustrated and that was never a good sign.

Through his hysteria, you managed to piece together the most important clues: “Toshinori…severely injured…in hospital…come down now!”

Dashing to the elevator, the only thing your coworkers saw was your swiveling chair and files carelessly scattered around the office.

You didn’t care how long it took you to rush to the hospital or the painful blisters you’ll receive on your feet afterwards. You’ll deal with that later. Right now, your beloved was in critical condition and you needed to reach him before it was too late. Fortunately, the hospital was only about thirty minutes away from your job if you walked—ten minutes or even less at the speed you’re going right now.

Shoving the glass doors open, you ignored the disgruntled screams of staff members and visitors before running up the stairs to the fourth floor. Skidding around the corner, your eyes spotted Mirai’s trembling figure in the middle of the hallway. Sweat trickled down everywhere on your body as your lungs gasped for air, but you coughed out the lanky man’s name. He turned and marched towards you while tugging his glasses off to rub his eyes.

“He’s gone insane,” Mirai complained and your eyes hectically searched for your lover over his shoulders. “I’ve tried to stop him. I’ve tried to make him understand the danger he’s in, but he won’t listen to reason anymore!”

“Where is he, Mirai? Where is Toshinori?!”

The sidekick sighed, pointing his finger down the hall. “He’s in his room. I told him I called you and that you would come. He’s still there, but I can’t stay.”

Releasing your hands from his suit, you darted to the pro hero’s room. However, Mirai’s fingers gripped your wrist and you froze mid-step. Sending him a confused look, the dark forest haired man weakly lifted his gaze at you like a defeated soldier coming home from war.

“You’re our only hope,” he quivered and the severity of the situation slowly sank into your mind. Mirai was pleading with you. “Please convince him…he can’t go down this path…he’ll die if he does.”

Die?

Oh, no…

Toshi…what were you thinking?

Mirai’s hand slipped from your wrist, watching you wobble to the same war zone he barely survived from. You gently knocked on the small window before slowly opening the door and sticking your head through the gap.

“Toshi, dear,” you whispered to make your presence known to him. Your eyes stared at your lover who was still in his hero form. The sky-blue hospital gown failed to obscure his enormous muscles, but you became alarmed at the amount of bandages wrapped around his arms and left fingers. You slipped through the ajar door and closed it to make sure you both had privacy.

Toshinori sat at the edge of the hospital bed with his face down. The fresh bruises and scars he received in battle covered his face, but that didn’t surprise you. He was All Might, the Symbol of Peace, the number one Pro Hero who was admired by everyone on this planet. Yet, the man in front of you was not the same one who graced the front page newspapers with a jubilant smile. No, he was your beloved Toshinori who was damaged and fighting his own demons right now.  

You took a seat next to him, your hand intertwining with his unbandaged one. From the corner of your eye, his fingers absentmindedly twitched at your touch. It was the first movement you’ve seen from him since you entered the room. Your right thumb caressed his injuries on his face as if you had Recovery Girl’s quirk to heal them. A deep breath escaped from his mouth as he cherished your loving strokes.

They were heavenly to him.

Gliding your fingers underneath his chin, you forced him to look into your worrisome eyes. Harrowing light blue eyes gazed straight back at you, the usual sparkle gone. Sighing, you asked: “How are you feeling?”

“I’m…I’m not sure…” he admitted, holding your hand tighter with his. A deep frown fell upon his lips. “Mirai…he severed our partnership. He wanted me to retire as All Might and look for a successor who can inherit One For All, but I refused. I just couldn’t do it, there’s too much at stake.”

You were walking on thin ice. “Toshi, I understand how much being the Symbol of Peace means to you, I really do. But, you cannot neglect your health, my love. You’re pushing your body to the point of no return. Maybe…maybe you should consider retiring—”

“No,” he growled at you while yanking his hand away from your grasp. The cold reaction you received from that simple word left you stunned. Toshinori rose from the bed, hissing loudly as he clutched his stomach. Yet, he still trudged away from you which caused you to gape at him. As your bewilderment subsided, you felt your anger quickly boil inside your body. Glaring behind his back, you immediately shot up from your chair with your fists clenched together.

“Are you serious right now? Toshinori you are hurt—”

“I’ll heal!”

“You’re not invincible, Toshinori! You will end up seriously injuring yourself to the point that you could…” Your voice wavered towards the end and the blonde hero glanced over his shoulder with curious eyes, almost daring you to finish your sentence.

“That I could what?”

You released a shaky breath, your shoulders feeling as though they were carrying a large bolder for quite some time. “That you could die, Toshi.”  

The man remained silent while staring at the door before murmuring: “So you know…”

“I don’t know all the details, but Mirai was worried for you!” You barked at your lover, fiercely thrusting your finger on your chest. “I’m worried for you, Toshi. Why the hell are you still considering doing this to yourself?”

“Because I need to!” Toshi glared at you, feeling offended and betrayed all over again. First Mirai and now you? His one true love? He began to shake from all the pressure that was surrounding his fragile state, but he powered through to stand his ground. “I can’t quit! There’s so much at risk if I retire. There are villains who can take over All for One’s place unless I’m there to stop them—”

“Do you love me, Toshinori?”

Your lips trembled once you brought those words to light. Now it was Toshinori’s turn to feel astonished, his throat becoming dry once he heard those five words echo into the open space. The pain from his injuries faded away, but his chest suddenly ached as if someone threw their own Texas Smash punch at him.

“W-what?”

“Do. You. Love. Me?” You gritted each word between your teeth. His bandaged fingers gripped his hospital gown while his wide, exasperated blue orbs pierced towards you.  

“Of course I do!”

“Then you will stop!” You screamed like a madwoman, chest rising and falling as you no longer cared to hold back your rage. “For me!”

“I can’t do that!” He roared like a caged lion desperate for an escape. Toshinori’s hands flew to head and grabbed his hair so tight that a few strands possibly broke off from his scalp. You stumbled backwards at his answer while tears dangerously surfaced in your eyes. “I can’t stop being All Might, don’t you understand? The world needs me! They need the Symbol of Peace! They need All Might—”

“And you’re also Toshinori Yagi!” You bawled with pure rawness that you didn’t know you possessed. The tears finally flowed down your flared cheeks and you endured the agonizing screams swirling inside your heart. “My fiancé! The love of my life! Does that not mean anything to you?!”

“Yes it does,” he professed like a broken man. “B-but the people—I can’t let them suffer.”

It was useless.

He crossed the point of no return.

Your watery eyes gazed at the gorgeous engagement ring nestled around your finger. Toshinori proposed to you almost seven months ago when he returned to your shared apartment after a long and tiring day fighting villains off the streets. His All Might suit engulfed his skeleton frame as he opened the door to enter inside. You knew whenever Toshinori stayed late on hero patrol he would be hungry so you always made him his favorite meal.

The delicious scent of your cooking tickled his nose and he wandered into the small kitchen area to see you stir some vegetables inside the pan. Turning the stove off, you carried over two plates to the tiny table near the window which showed the clear, night sky. As you two ate in peaceful silence, Toshinori nervously shifted in his seat with his fingers tapping the square box that held the diamond ring.

He debated all week as to when he should propose to you. He never thought he would ever pursue an intimate relationship considering he was the number one Pro Hero and—most importantly— the Symbol of Peace. It was not easy balancing his hero life and an almost nonexistent personal life. He even thought it was impossible to find someone who loved him, the man hiding behind the All Might mask. The one who was more reserved, calm, and not exceptionally handsome.

But you proved him wrong with each day after running into him at the store during his grocery run. He was impressed with your witty mind and cheeky humor, earning a few chuckles from him. A few more meet ups at the supermarket and you, to his surprise, initiated the next step by asking him out for a casual date near the park. He remembered stuttering and his face feeling hotter than Endeavor’s flames, but he managed to cough out a yes to your delight.

Slowly, your relationship blossomed like a spring flower after the harsh winter months passed by. Whenever Toshinori doubted his worthiness, you always reassured how much of a wonderful partner he was to you and that you enjoyed being with him. For once, Toshinori’s walls were down and he felt at peace every time he saw you. Throughout the years, you were one the pro hero’s closest confidants, probably the closest one in his life, and he decided to let you in on his secret of One For All and being All Might too.

He expected the worst. But when your hand squeezed his boney ones and thanked him for sharing something so personal with you, he realized you were the one. Back at the dinner table, his leg anxiously bounced as you continued eating without noticing Toshinori’s inner struggle. The blonde hero pushed aside all his fears and bravely went for it.

Going down on one knee still in his deflated suit, Toshinori asked: “Will you marry me?”

You fondly remembered that night as your fingers grazed the engagement ring he gave you. The sun’s rays shined through the hospital windows and twinkled against the diamond. You proudly wore the ring, feeling over the moon knowing that you were going to live the rest of your life with Toshinori: your best friend and one true love. You were supposed to make more lasting memories with him; grow old together and die together.

Not watch him willingly die alone in a war he was woefully unprepared for.

“You already decided,” you sniffed through your tears. Your fingertips circled around the ring and fought against the turmoil brewing inside you. “You’ll still walk down this road knowing it will kill you. I thought you truly loved me, that maybe our relationship was important enough in your eyes to reconsider your choice, but…I guess I was wrong.”  

Slowly, you removed the ring from your finger and held it up for him to see.

“W-what are you—“ he hopelessly stammered and faltered sideways when he saw the ring off your finger. The same one he carried inside his pocket for so long.

“You’re a hero, Toshinori,” you sorrowfully wept and you found it difficult to even speak now. “I always admired that about you. You might be okay sacrificing your life in such a reckless manner, but I can’t follow this path with you…I can’t stay with you just to see the love of my life die. Not like this.”  

You placed the ring on the bed and Toshinori started sobbing. “No…please…please don’t do this…”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked as fresh tears ran down your face again. Your were suffering from a broken heart that was taking its last breath. “Goodbye, Toshi.”

Without looking back, you disappeared from the room and closed the door to a future that no longer existed.

~~~

Thank you for reading and hope everyone is staying safe during this difficult time with the coronavirus! 

6.20.20 UPDATE: Please click HERE for the story’s sequel After All These Years

#toshinori yagi x reader #yagi toshinori x reader #all might x reader #toshinori x reader #yagi x reader #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha toshinori #bnha x reader #bnha toshinori x reader #mha toshinori #mha x reader #bnha fanfiction

[softderekhale]

from the archives: snippets of a sterek pacrim au

hey y’all! i definitely haven’t been super active on this blog or tumblr at all lately, for a lot of reasons but mainly just... life. doesn’t that suck sometimes? but i really, truly hope everyone is doing well and you + your loved ones are staying safe. (long reflection + tumblr fic after the cut, lol)

i’ve been in kind of a funk with writing since the last time i “had” to do it, which was 12 days/sterek secret santa like, 6 months ago. it’s frustrating to me that i went from writing my longest fic ever exactly 2 years ago to having almost zero output now, but i’m trying not to be too hard on myself and i know writing is a really fickle pastime. anyway, this is a really long leadup, but i decided to just release some stuff i wrote into the wild. it’s either here or my google drive, so i might as well see if anyone wants to read it! 

pacific rim is undoubtedly one of my favorite movies of all time (it was only bumped down by into the spider-verse, but they’re almost tied ;D). it came out right after my sterek obsession began, and i always imagined writing a sterek au based around derek and stiles being drift compatible. that whole concept has always been so lovely to me and fits in nicely with some of my favorite soulmate-y tropes. this idea always felt too ambitious, though, and i didn’t write a single word of it until i rewatched the movie in november/december 2019. i wrote the following stuff in an extremely giddy haze over the next few weeks. i’m not good about pushing myself to write, so i never added any more, but i still really like what i had/have! i hope maybe someday i’ll feel the urge to come back to it. but anyway, here’s my completely self-indulgent homage to one of my favorite movies and one of my favorite fandoms. in my au chronology for this, following the events of the first movie, global governments and the ppdc decided to deploy jaegers for continued deep sea exploration to further benefit scientific discovery and avoid wasting such expensive tech/training. this lead to a lot of corporate interference re: treasure hunting, etc. (national treasure, but make it underwater). oh, and werewolves exist (because wouldn’t they make great jaeger pilots?!). also, A SECOND PACIFIC RIM MOVIE WAS NEVER EVER MADE. THE END. laura and derek were copilots before a kaiju-fighting incident forced them into early retirement. laura is still alive, though! (because it’s me.)

***

“Mayday! Mayday! LOCCENT, do you copy? This is Luna Geminae paging for backup. LOCCENT! Danny, we can’t hold them much longer…”

Laura’s growl of frustration rang in Derek’s ear as he strained against the beast.

“Keep holding it, Derek. You can do this. I know you can. They’re so close, Derek, they’ve gotta be. Just a few more—”

Derek never knew how Laura intended to finish that sentence. All he would ever remember was the scream that tore out of her throat. Later, he would describe it as the first time he ever understood the meaning of “bloodcurdling.”

“Laura!” Derek gritted his teeth as pain roared down his left arm, causing his vision to blur and spark white around the edges.

“My arm, Jesus, my fucking… They got my arm, Derek—” 

As water poured into the cabin above and around him, the last thing he remembered hearing was Laura’s anguished howl. Then the sky became fire, and everything went dark.

***

The day of the accident convinced Derek that his world would never stop burning.

For months after, when he lay staring at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning, the staticky shapes his eyes created to fill the darkness always melted and formed a wall of flames no matter how many times he scrunched his eyes shut and buried his face in his pillow. The noises, too — the ambient whoosh of the Dome’s ventilation system and the soft heart-like thud of the power grid soon coalesced into a unified, rhythmic chant that sounded more and more like Laura’s scream the longer Derek listened: Derek! Help!

In the days and weeks following their accident, Derek had tried every trick he could think of to reassure his subconscious that Laura was alive and safe, and would remain so even after she left his line of sight. For almost a week after she was released from the medical bay, he slept in the spare bunk above her. As reticent as he normally was to invade Laura’s privacy any more than he had to, experiencing her near-loss allowed panic and instinct to envelop Derek’s frayed nerves. He never fully explained it to Laura, but he didn’t have to — she never questioned his presence, nor did she point out that Derek always waited to fall asleep until he was certain she had already drifted off. 

Eventually, though, Derek realized the routine was leaving them both sleep-deprived and irritable. He resolved to move back to his own quarters, not wanting to smother Laura with his relentless, anxious presence. But he knew she still sensed his distress — every evening at 2300 hours, like clockwork, she knocked on his door to tell him goodnight and gently pressed her right palm against her brother’s neck before waving and returning to her own room. It was a routine they continued even now, half a decade beyond the fight that had left their Jaeger decimated. 

They had made progress, which Laura was always quick to remind her younger brother. Nothing could have prepared him for the aftermath of the accident, though, and the dark places where Derek’s mind would drift when there was no one around to distract him. Alone with his thoughts, no reassurance was strong enough to quiet Derek’s memories.

He shifted again in bed, his half-awake mind scrambling to remember the breathing exercises Deaton had taught him over the years.

Inhale through your nose. One. Two. Three. Hold. Exhale through your mouth. One. Two. Three—

Derek!

Start again. Inhale through your nose. One. Two. Three. Hold. Exhale through your mouth. Slower this time.

Good. Again.

***

This comes way after the scene above lol sorry

“Right hemisphere locked. Left hemisphere locked. Vitals are steady. Initiating neural handshake.”

Danny’s voice echoed through Derek’s head as he let his eyes flutter shut and tipped his head back. He’d been anxious about this moment for days now, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t secretly a little — or a lot — excited, too. Drifting was a heady, emotional experience, and if he and Stiles were truly compatible, Derek might finally get to settle the unease he had felt since his connection with Laura was severed.

“Alright,” Danny said. “You should be feeling it in three… two… one.”

Derek’s eyes flew open, but his gaze defocused as he felt his center of gravity list forward before returning.

As his sense of internal balance returned, the tingle of the neural link fizzed over his scalp. There it is. Slowly, then all at once, he felt the rush of Stiles’ mind meeting his own. Their emotions flowed over one another like water, memories flashing and sensations pulsing before slipping away into their shared flow of awareness. Derek had trained himself long ago to let himself float until the waters steadied, and he could feel Stiles, ever perceptive, do the same.

“Neural handshake established and holding at 100 percent.”

Without having to think twice about the gesture, Derek felt his knuckles meet his palm as he dipped into a customary bow. As he and Stiles led Luna in her first exploratory steps, Derek felt the weight of any lingering fears melt away.

With Laura, Derek had always felt like they were extensions of one another, movements and decisions cascading seamlessly from a fully unified thought process. Drifting with Stiles, though, felt unlike anything Derek had ever experienced. They were two sides of the same coin — each aggressive and reserved in equal, opposite measure. If Derek and Laura were reading from the same script, he and Stiles were finishing each others’ sentences as they improvised the same scene. 

When they first met, Derek had found Stiles anything but graceful — but now, as they nearly seemed to glide across the ocean floor, he felt foolish for not realizing the instinctive adjustments and calculations stiles was constantly making based on his surroundings. As they steered Luna across the testing ground, Derek felt his temples begin to thrum with an energy he hadn’t felt in years. Best of all, he knew Stiles felt it too — he could literally trace the path of his elation as it wrapped around Derek’s senses and amplified his own excitement.

“How are you doing?” Derek shouted across the rig. It wasn’t a question he needed to ask verbally, but he chose to anyway, knowing it would help ground them both in the present moment and prevent any stray thought spirals from taking over their link.

“So good, dude. This is — this is unreal,” Stiles replied, slicing through the air with his left arm to test the angle of the jaeger’s knuckle daggers.

Derek smiled. “Not exactly like the simulators, huh?”

“Nothing like the simulators, man. Holy shit.”

As they continued to acclimate to the drift, Derek took Stiles through a few more of Luna’s signature maneuvers. Stiles’ extensive research showed, and combined with the knowledge he and Derek now shared, the moves seemed to come naturally.

“Do you want some music?” He and Laura always played music when training, but he didn’t want Stiles to feel—

“That’s all I want right now, Derek.” Derek’s grin broadened as Stiles flicked through the controls hovering in front of him. A heavy bass line thrummed through the cabin, and Derek finally did what he never thought he would be able to again in his lifetime: he let his mind relax and free-fell into the drift.

***

Two hours after he and Stiles had eaten dinner and finally parted ways, Derek still couldn’t stop thinking about their drift.

That wasn’t unusual, all things considered — emotional transfer was common, especially for werewolves and especially during the first few drifts with a new partner.

Every time Derek thought about his connection with Stiles, though, and the experience of their emotions weaving together, his mind kept snagging in one place. It was a place that had struck Derek even during the high of the neural handshake, not because it felt odd or foreign, but because it felt hauntingly familiar — but looked ugly and sinister looming over someone else. 

It was anguish. It was a grief that had been doused in shame and set alight. It was a feeling of loss and self-loathing that made Derek feel like he was suffocating. It was exactly the way Derek had felt every day for years after the fire, and again after the accident. 

He had tried to explain it to Laura as dispassionately as possible all the times she chided him for blaming himself or expressing guilt over what happened to their family, but he never knew how to describe it until he experienced it through Stiles’ memories. It was sore, like a bruised rib, a persistent ache that radiated out from the point of impact and lingered at the edge of his consciousness. Distractions might be able to push away some of the pain, but as long as he kept breathing, it would always be there.

Derek hadn’t seen exactly where Stiles’ pain radiated from, but it seemed to shroud the memories of his mother especially strongly. Stiles told him she had been sick, though — why would he feel guilty about her death?

He sat up, his leg bouncing as he fidgeted absently with a hangnail. Since deciphering what that unexpected shared emotion reminded him of, Derek couldn’t stop thinking about it. This, he knew, was normal too — without an outlet, emotional transfer tended to create a feedback loop as a co-pilot bounced back and forth between their own memories and their partner’s. 

Before he could talk himself out of it, Derek shot up and strode to the door. It was late, almost midnight, and the full body experience of drifting had left Derek racked with fatigue. But — he just wanted to talk to Stiles. To be near him, again, as if it were a substitute for the feeling of absolute synchronicity they had just shared. It would only take a few minutes.

He was so distracted by his own jumbled thoughts that it took him a moment to register who stood just outside his door as he flung it open — it was Stiles, hand paused in mid-air.

“Stiles.” Very eloquent, Derek, he chided himself with an internal voice that sounded suspiciously like Laura.

“Oh— Well. Um. Hi.” Stiles gave a small wave before shoving his hand in his pocket. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were about to—“

“I was about to find you.”

Stiles paused. “Really?”

Derek stepped back, nodding toward the doorway. “Really. Do you want to come in?”

As he and Stiles stood facing each other silently, Derek scrambled for exactly what he wanted to say. Everything was so effortless when they were in the drift. Why was it so hard to find the words now?

To his relief, Stiles was the one who broke the silence. “Sorry, I’m sure you’re tired… I’m just kind of keyed up, I guess, and I couldn’t—“ Stiles ducked his head down. “I don’t know. I thought it might help to see you.”

“Don’t apologize. You have good instincts,” Derek assured him. “And I— I wanted to see you too,” he added, feeling the tips of his ears heat. 

He could almost feel Stiles’ sigh of relief in his own chest. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.” Derek scooped a discarded pile of clothes off his bed and gingerly sat down after Stiles, mindful of the careful space between them. “Are you feeling okay?”

Stiles’ eyebrows jumped. “Yeah, I feel fine, I really do, but I just feel… jumpy, I guess. Which is normal for me, but I can tell this is different. I don’t know how I know, but…” he trailed off, gesturing abstractly in front of him.

Derek nodded. “I know what you mean. You can’t really prepare for the drift until you’ve done it,” he said, remembering how disjointed he felt after his first few test runs. “But it gets easier,” he added.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not worried about it. I trust you.” His eyes shot up to meet Derek’s, as if challenging him to dispute the steady, honest heartbeat behind his words. 

Derek was surprised to feel something behind his eyes sting at the pronouncement. He looked away from Stiles’ scrutinizing gaze, but he felt the other man’s eyes continue to study him. “I’m glad. I— that means a lot to me.”

Stiles nodded, remaining thoughtfully silent. Derek sensed he wanted to ask something, but wasn’t ready to admit it on his own.

“Is there anything I can do?” Derek asked gently, eyes seeking Stiles’ again.

Stiles looked pointedly away and bit at his thumbnail. “Um. It sounds stupid now. But I read… I read that physical contact can help,” he mumbled, so quickly Derek might not have caught it without his magnified hearing.

He realized Stiles’ admission may have felt embarrassing for a human, but for Derek, it was almost a relief. He reached forward slowly and cupped his hand over Stiles’ shoulder with a light squeeze. 

“It’s not stupid. You felt how intense the drift is. When you separate from a complete mental overlap, it can be disorienting. And you know how tactile wolves are — that makes it even harder for us, so you’re probably getting some of this from my own emotional bleed.” He didn’t miss the way Stiles melted into his touch, his whole body swaying into their point of contact.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense. Thanks,” his gaze flicked up to meet Derek’s.

“Do you—“ Derek didn’t really know how to ask for more contact. It came so naturally with other werewolves, so he’d never really had to think about it before. “I don’t want to touch you in a way you’re not comfortable with. But if you want to lay down, or you want me to lay down or…” He took a sharp, steadying breath. “I’m trying to say that I understand, and I think it will make us both feel better, and I’m fine with whatever level of contact you’re okay with.”

Stiles laughed, a bright and unexpected break in the tension. “Jesus. Listen to us. I feel ridiculous, but— Thank you. You’re very considerate.” He paused, expression drawing almost imperceptibly tighter. “I want that too, though. I want you to feel comfortable. If you’re not, if there’s anything I do— I promise I’ll ask, first, and if you can tell me, I want you to.” 

Derek felt a lump rise in his throat. Stiles’ words were sincere, but carefully chosen. He wasn’t sure how much of his own memories Stiles had observed, but it seemed to have been enough to understand that physical touch had once been a powerful weapon wielded against him.

“Thank you,” he answered quietly, before gently tugging at Stiles’ arm. “Here, lay down.”

The bed was barely wide enough for both of them to lay side by side, but it was just enough space for both men to settle on their backs with their elbows carefully layered between them. Derek hesitated for a moment before angling his head against Stiles’ neck. “Is this okay?”

Stiles hummed in agreement, the back of his hand flitting against Derek’s so softly he almost thought he imagined it. “This is perfect.” He inhaled deeply through his nose and tilted his head closer to Derek’s. They lay silently for a handful of minutes, and the rhythmic in-out of Stiles’ breathing nearly lulled Derek to sleep.

Suddenly, Derek felt Stiles still. “Why were you about to come look for me?”

Derek huffed. “I wanted to see you.”

“What, you had to check in on the rookie who can’t handle a drift?” Stiles’ tone was light, devoid of any real offense, and he jostled his shoulder gently against Derek’s.

“You did great. If anything, I— I hadn’t done it in so long, and Laura was my only co-pilot before you.” Derek frowned, remembering the heavy emotions of Stiles’ that had ensnared him earlier. He didn’t want to overwhelm Stiles, but he also wanted him to know that he both empathized with and thought highly of him. 

“I never thought I would get in a rig again,” Derek continued. “I don’t think I trusted myself enough. I carry… I carry a lot of guilt, Stiles. But when I thought about piloting with you, the guilt didn’t win. You’re the first person who’s been capable enough, smart enough, strong enough, that I didn’t have to worry.” 

Stiles didn’t respond at first, and a flash of panic seized Derek before he felt strong, warm fingers curl around his own.

“I won’t let you down,” Stiles said, his voice nearly a whisper and rough with emotion.

“I don’t think you could,” Derek whispered back, before he let his eyes slip shut and exhaustion overtake him.

***

When Derek awoke the next morning, he was startled — but it wasn’t in reaction to the way Stiles had draped himself over Derek in his sleep. Feeling Stiles’ arms around his waist felt oddly natural. The surprising part was how well he had slept — it was the first night of uninterrupted slumber he could remember having in months, if not longer.

***

yeah so... that’s all for now! if you read this, thanks and i hope you’re doing well!!! ❤️ 

#sterek #sterek fic #sterek pacific rim au #pacific rim au #my fic #tumblr fic

[honestgrins]

Due Diligence || Klaroline

Caroline loves her job as Esther Mikaelson's executive assistant, and she is a damn good one. The next generation of Mikaelsons, however, make things more difficult than necessary.

.

Caroline strode down the sidewalk, easily balancing a tray of coffees as she dodged fellow pedestrians crowding her morning commute. She usually managed to avoid the rush by getting to work by 6:00, but Esther had allowed her a couple hours to see her mother off to the airport. Unfortunately, that left her fighting rush hour. Her focused expression seemed to clear a path for her, however, all the way to her destination. "Good morning, Andrew!"

The doorman greeted her with a wide smile, happy to accept the cappuccino she passed him. "Good morning to you, Miss Forbes. Before you head upstairs, you should know that Mrs. Mikaelson's children are still on the premises."

"Thanks for the heads up," she sighed, wincing. Family breakfasts were an occupational hazard when Caroline had to work from Esther's penthouse, and she would rather not incur the wrath of the younger generation by interrupting. A schedule was a schedule, though, and she wouldn't let Rebekah's sneers or Elijah's condescension change that. "How many?"

Andrew gave a sympathetic nod. "All of them."

Her eyes bugged slightly in surprise, though she tried to smile through it as she made her way to the elevators. She passed the operator a latte. "Hi, Reggie. I hear it's a full house."

"You heard right, Miss, and they're in fine form today," the old man warned. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"Never," she promised, having bought thousands of coffees for the staff over the years for exactly this reason. "Your secrets are safe with me." He tipped his cup to her before keying in the penthouse code, and they settled in for the long ride up. "I don't suppose you heard what has the family so riled?"

Shrugging, Reggie didn't seem too confident. "It was really tense, what with all five of them squeezed in here with me. They were snapping more than usual."

Caroline sighed, wishing she could lift out her own caffeine boost without upsetting the tray. The Mikaelson children were a viper's nest on a good day. There were only two topics that could make it worse: money or positioning within the company. She was a damn good executive assistant, and Mikaelson Industries only ran as smoothly as it did because of what she did for Esther; should the matriarch decide to retire, though, it would take a hell of a raise to keep her, too. Putting one of them in charge would only throw the family into chaos, and she had no desire to watch that happen - let alone to be at their competing beck and call.

Like a death knell for her sanity, the elevator bell rang upon reaching the top floor. "Wish me luck," she joked as Reggie waved her off. Slipping off to the kitchen, she set down the remaining coffees and her tote on the counter, digging out the heels she'd planned to wear for the day.

"Oh, Caroline," a familiar voice clucked from the other doorway, "those tennies do not go with that outfit."

With as polite a smile as she could manage, Caroline quickly swapped out her sneakers and tucked them back into her bag. "Hello, Rebekah. Some of us take the subway on occasion, and even all of my pageant training wouldn't be enough to make that bearable in pumps." As soon as her hands were free, she grabbed her iced triple espresso and took a very unladylike gulp. "I assume breakfast is still going on, so I'll just sneak back to the office." 

Mrs. Pearson, the housekeeper, entered the kitchen bearing a stack of dishes. Caroline lifted the last cup toward her and smiled, tossing the tray in the recycling bin. But before she could make her escape, Rebekah laced her arm through Caroline's, putting the other girl on instant alert. "Nonsense, you should join us. Nik has finally graced us with his presence, and I know he'd be thrilled to see you." 

She really didn't need the perfectly manicured nails pressed into her arm to remind her just how dangerous Rebekah Mikaelson could be - and yet.

They all but marched down to the formal dining room, Rebekah maneuvering her to enter first. "Look who finally decided to show up," she announced cheerily. "Remind me, Caroline, what do we pay you for?"

Biting back every retort she'd ever rehearsed to her bathroom mirror, she gave a friendly grin. The plastic of her cup bowed under her clenched grip, but her face was pleasant enough. "Good morning, everyone. Just wanted to say hello before catching up on the office."

Esther sipped her tea, seemingly unbothered by the interruption. "Caroline, I trust your mother is safely delivered to the airport."

"Yes, thank you." She had to fight back a strange urge to curtsey, despite years of being used to the courtly accent and rigid manners. Mindful of the other, less trustworthy ears trained on her to hunt for personal weakness, she figured it safest to focus on work. "I've been monitoring your correspondence on the way over here, everything seems to be progressing as normal."

Taking her seat next to a sprawled out Kol, Rebekah leaned forward like she had a juicy secret to share. "Caroline takes the subway, you know."

"Many people do," Elijah pointed out from behind his open newspaper. "It's hardly our business how Miss Forbes travels to work, especially during peak hours." She almost felt vindicated from the usually cold chief financial officer, only for him to pointedly check his watch. "I suppose she's to be commended in making good time despite the late hour."

"Indeed." Finn stirred his tea with a grating scrape of the spoon, and Caroline could feel the individual muscles of her jaw clench at the sound. 

Kol, meanwhile, appeared utterly pleased at the awkward moment. "A clever rejoinder as always, brother," he teased before turning toward her. "You look lovely as always, darling. Doesn't she look lovely, Nik?"

The air might have been sucked from the room with how she could only hear the blood rushing in her ears. She nodded toward the last pair of curious eyes, forcing a quick smile. "Klaus, what a nice surprise. Welcome home." His attention burned along her skin as she glanced away, nodding to Esther. "I'll be in the office when you're ready. The new publishing acquisition is on standby for streamlining operations, and Alaric has asked for a half hour to go over broad legal strategy against the Lockwood startup."

Finn frowned in that stony way of his. "Why am I not in for that, Mother?"

"Because Alaric is better on the offensive, dear," Esther replied. "Thank you, Caroline, pencil Alaric in after lunch with Richard Lockwood. We should have a better grasp of his company's intentions once I actually meet the man."

"Done." With a final nod, Caroline did her best to escape without hurrying, but she knew it couldn't be that simple. Just as she stepped into the office, a warm hand grasped her elbow. "Klaus-"

"You're not happy to see me." 

Her eyes closed at the uncertain flirt in his voice, a small smile turning her lips anyway at the memories it conjured. "I'm...surprised. I thought your grand hotelier plans were going to keep you in Europe for the year."

Klaus tugged lightly on the end of her ponytail, smirking at the way her whole face opened up in affront. "Surely, someone so intimately familiar with the Mikaelson brand knows I can afford a plane ticket or two," he joked. "You've been ignoring my calls. I find I don't like that."

Pushing on with her usual routine of a work day, Caroline busied her hands with computers and folders. Still, she felt him watching and couldn't make herself ignore it; the blush was warm on her cheeks. "It was a one-time thing, Klaus. We agreed."

"You said it, I didn't argue. I figured you would allow me the opportunity to properly woo you," he tempted, sitting in the chair across from her desk even as she fled to Esther's inner office. His volume just increased so she could hear him. "Hence the phone calls, sweetheart."

Caroline leaned over the antique desk, hands planted firmly on the agenda she'd been laying out. Relieved he hadn't followed her in, she took a deep breath, at a loss for how she ended up having a mind-blowing, one-night stand with her boss's son. Worse, she wasn't all that sure she wanted it to stay at one night, either. "You don't want to date me, Klaus."

His laugh was warm and immediate. "Funny, I think that's exactly what I want to do. In fact, I have a reservation tonight at your favorite sushi restaurant for just that purpose."

"My favorite sushi place?" 

"Mrs. Pearson is an exceptional hostess, love, and she's always had a bit of a soft spot for me. She was a font of information on your takeaway selections."

She scowled, knowing full well he couldn't see her. "Well, that's just cheating."

"Perhaps, but I have no regrets."

With a scoff, she stepped back out into her space and found him looking at the framed photos littering her desk. "Seriously," she said, snatching one of her dad with a baby Caroline from his hands, "I work sixteen hours a day more often than not, I know everything about your mom, and even I'm not that good at compartmentalizing to handle dating her son. You don't want to date me."

Frowning, his hands steepled under his chin. "Because my mother would complicate things?"

"Because you get some thrill out of seducing your mother's executive assistant," she sadly accused. "Congrats, you did it, and we had a great time. Why can't you leave it at that?"

Any levity in his expression drained in a second as he considered her words. "Why are you so adamant we have to leave it at that?"

Caroline blinked, taken off guard at his plaintive tone. "I- How would you see this going? I feed Esther small talk hints at galas with you trailing after us? You fly me out to France or Japan for the weekend, only for me to take the fanciest walk of shame from the airport to her office?"

"You'd be ashamed to date me," he realized, his jaw tense.

Something bristled along her spine like a warning, and it scared her. "Well, no, but-"

His eyebrows rose, the smug playboy who'd seduced her over late night market reports and art history replaced by an earnest, lonely man. "I like you, Caroline," he said, his voice painfully honest. "And I'd like to see more of you, on your terms. You're right, it might take work to finesse the details. I'm willing to put in that work...if you are."

She licked her lips, her fingers fidgeting over her daily planner. "I, well," she sighed, suddenly winded. "This is real?"

And his smug smirk returned as he reached for her shaky hands, covering them with his own. "Sushi, eight-thirty." When she opened her mouth to protest, his smirk widened until she saw dimples. "Mother promised Rebekah over breakfast to finish work early tonight, something about an emergency spa appointment. I doubt she'll keep you past seven."

A part of her wanted to make her own emergency spa appointment for a surprise first date, but she did appreciate the consideration for her schedule. "Still doesn't leave me much time to spruce up," she said, fighting a smile at how his whole face brightened for what sounded like a 'yes.' "Don't you want me to look pretty?"

Like he couldn't hold himself back anymore, Klaus stood from his seat and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. "You're beautiful, love. I'll see you tonight."

As he turned to leave, her stomach gave a giddy leap. She didn't want that feeling to end. "Did you really find out my favorite place from Mrs. Pearson?"

Esther and Finn's voices floated in from the hallway, and he kept his own low. "I suppose we'll find out, won't we?" With a final wink, he strode out of the office, leaving her a puddle of anticipation despite needing to work a twice-shortened day for his mother. 

"Of course he did," she muttered to herself, not quite able to be angry about it. Maybe testing the boundaries of their relationship would be more fun than she had feared. She really couldn't wait to find out.

#klaroline #kcauweek2019 #klaroline drabbles #day 3: all human #i'm late i know i'm sorry #but i wrote it anyway #so here you go #fic: due diligence #almost everything

[alovelyvillain]

F*** I hate tumblr. The question disappeared for some bizarre reason but it was something like "what is Tom's dreamdate with Hermione" I dunno this website gives me a headache I'm going to bed now.

Tom starts their evening by taking Hermione to a 3 Michelin star restaurant because he thinks it will impress her. When she asks how he swung the last minute reservation he admits he's a long-time friend of the owner (he met the owner the day before when he broke into the stranger’s house and blackmailed him for a table near the window.) Halfway through the tasting menu Hermione admits upscale dining is a bit strange to her (a polite way of saying she's uncomfortable) and the chips from the food truck by her office are her all-time favorite.

After dinner, he takes her to the ballet because he wants to appear refined despite his orphaned upbringing (he told her he grew up with two parents, a brother, and a beagle named Max) and as they enter their private balcony she jokingly asks if he's friends with the owner here, too. Tom smiles and says he knows one of the ballerinas (he really does.) Hermione’s face reveals a twinge of jealousy and she leans close to him for the remainder of the performance.

Afterward, she asks which ballerina he knows and Tom nods to Bella when the dancers take their bows. Hermione waits thirty seconds before casually asking how they know each other. Tom hides his pleased grin and takes her hand, assuring her they're merely old friends who met at school (they're old co-workers who met on assignment) and bonded over a particularly difficult chemistry lab (they managed not to kill each other while assassinating a foreign prime minister) but never shared any romantic involvement (they had sex twice and it was anything but romantic), they've kept in touch over the years and he wants to congratulate her on joining the dance company (he’d thought she was dead and wants to make sure she hasn’t risen from the grave to kill him.)

Tom tells Hermione he'll be right back but she insists on coming along, he can't think up a reasonable excuse so he agrees and escorts her backstage. He's reluctant to introduce her to Bella (who’s arguably out of her fucking mind) but Hermione unknowingly solves the problem when she starts up a lively discussion with the set designer.

Tom sneaks off and slips into Bella’s dressing room. She's expecting him and laughs maniacally upon seeing his bespoke suit and pristine hair. He asks if she's here for him and she calls him an arrogant bastard, then goes on to claim she's retired, too. Tom doesn't trust her but can't leave Hermione alone any longer. As he departs, Bella tells him to keep his pretty new girlfriend close, the rumor is someone has, in fact, been sent to kill him. He starts to ask more but hears Hermione's voice around the corner and quickly shuts the door on Bella's dark laughter.

Tom finds his date discussing cheesecake recipes with a dancer who looks like she's never taken a bite of cheesecake in her life. He touches the small of her back and asks if she's ready to go. Hermione offers polite goodbyes to the friends she’s managed to make over the last five minutes and accepts his hand as he leads her outside.

Tom makes the reluctant decision to cut their night short (he intends to take care of the assassin before the assassin takes care of him) but Hermione sees the Christmas light display in the park across the street and clutches his arm with both hands, bouncing excitedly with such a breathtaking grin he decides to put his life on the line for a few minutes more. They hold hands crossing the street and entering the park gates, then he wraps an arm around her waist and she leans into his side as they stroll between the colorfully decorated trees.

As they're leaving he tells himself he can't see her again (doing so surely puts her life in jeopardy) and then she rests her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh and he realizes he's fucked (completely and utterly.) Tom glances around and realizes where they are, then tells her he has a surprise (the opportunity is too good to pass up, international assassins be damned) and leads her a few blocks further until her office building comes into view. Her expression remains puzzled until they turn the corner and the food truck is revealed. She laughs and clutches his arm again. He smiles, pleased with himself as they join the end of the line in their fancy evening wear.

They eat their chips in the back of the cab and discuss the merits of each dipping sauce, passionately defending their selected favorite (honestly, what can compete with malt vinegar?) and attacking each other’s condiment of choice (curry mustard? She was obviously disturbed, perhaps he should rethink this relationship) and when the driver announces they've arrived at their destination they both glance at her building with disappointment.

Hermione bites her lip and thanks him for a wonderful evening. Tom desperately wants to kiss her (preferably not while the driver watches from the rearview mirror) and offers to escort her to the front step. She accepts and blushes when he circles the car and opens her door (despite the fact he’s been opening her doors all evening.) He's already fantasizing about the kiss when she reaches the stoop and turns to him with resolve in her eyes.

She asks if he'd like to come upstairs.

Tom blinks, startled by the offering. He knows he shouldn't (he really shouldn't) it's a terrible idea (bloody awful) and would be incredibly selfish of him. But he wants her (Christ he wants her) and at this moment she wants him (she looks so fucking beautiful standing beneath the moonlight, draped in black silk.) Tom finds himself agreeing before his mind even catches up to the decision.

He follows her upstairs, then he follows her inside, body drawing taut as she fumbles with her keys, the urge to grab her and pin her to the wall nearly overwhelming his self-control. But he keeps his dark desires at bay, stepping into her modest flat with a polite smile, mindful of her nerves (he can tell she doesn't normally do this.)

“I don't normally do this,” she explains quickly, cheeks flush as she sets her greasy chip box on the entry table.

Tom nods, fighting to keep his movements measured and calm. “I can tell.”

She swallows lightly, shutting her door and staring at the deadbolt, seeming to have an internal debate. Turning it means she assumes he'll be staying, perhaps overnight, which could be construed as presumptive, while not turning it means she expects him to leave soon, which could be construed as rude.

Dilemmas, dilemmas.

Tom bites back a grin, shrugging out of his coat as he watches her silent deliberation. Her hand trembles as it slowly lifts, turning the lock. His eyes flash, hunger roaring to life. He steps forward, gaze roaming her body as she turns.

“I’ll be right back,” she utters quickly, halting his predatory approach. Her eyes sparkle beneath the entryway lights.

Tom nods. “Alright.”

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” she says as she slides past, starting down the hall. “There's wine above the fridge, glasses in the first cabinet.”

“Perfect.” He watches her dart around the corner and flip on the light in what was presumably her bedroom before promptly shutting the door.

He hangs his coat on the rack and wanders into the galley kitchen, grabbing the sole bottle from atop the fridge (it’s caked in dust) and selects twin wine glasses from the appointed cabinet. He strolls into the living room next, setting his bounty on the glass coffee table and glancing around the room. He peels the wax seal from the bottle and examines a row of photographs positioned across the mantle. Various faces smile back at him from exotic locations around the world. Hermione doesn’t appear in any of them. (She must be camera shy. Tom certainly is. It took him nearly three weeks to track down the last roll of film containing his face, another six hours to kill the photographer.)

His casual perusal is stalled by a stack of magazines blocking his path. He tilts his head and reads the titles along the side. Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Look, then scans the cover page on top, gaze narrowing on the address label.

“Lavender Brown…” he mutters, then senses movement from the corner of his eye.

Tom dives behind the couch with the wine bottle as the shot rings out, muffled by a silencer. He hears her bare feet pad across the hardwood and catches sight of her reflection in one of the glass picture frames.

“I presume you aren’t an art appraiser?” He calls out.

“You presume correctly,” Hermione replies calmly, keeping the gun aimed high while approaching the couch. “Though I have a fond appreciation for the museum, I killed someone there just last month.”

Tom wets his lips, carefully maneuvering while keeping himself concealed. “Let me guess, you got chips afterward?”

“Naturally. They’re the only food truck in London with curry mustard.”

“The attempt on my life I can forgive, but there’s no absolving poor taste.”

She tiptoes around the coffee table. “Drop the act. We both know you didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth. Though I’m impressed by the lengths you went to just to get inside my knickers.”

Tom clenches his jaw as she stops before the couch, leaning over with the gun aimed down. “It seems I wasn’t the only one putting on a show.”

“Your reputation precedes you, Tom Riddle. I needed you to drop your guard and follow me upstairs. No man can resist the blushing virgin routine.”

He seizes the opportunity before it’s too late and tosses the wine overhead, counting on her lethal training to kick in. Sure enough, she lifts her gun and shoots the bottle dead center, glass and ruby liquid exploding in every direction as Tom grips the bottom of the couch and flips the furniture with all his strength. She falls back, knocked off balance as he leaps the cushions and topples against her, sending them both crashing onto the glass table.

It shatters, flimsy frame buckling. He hisses with pain, shards slicing his skin from every direction, coating his shirt and raining from his hair.

“I didn’t think you were a blushing virgin,” he groans, slowly pushing upright. “I just wanted to meet the woman who assassinated Secretary Umbridge in the middle of a crowded museum during broad daylight.”

She glances at him sharply, pausing with her hand half-way to her fallen weapon.

“I know all about you, too, Hermione Granger,” he smiles, “and I’m honored Grindelwald selected you to terminate my contract.”

She draws back, glass sparkling in her hair and blood gleaming across her arms. “Then why bother with a date? You could have attacked me long before tonight.”

“I didn’t want to kill you,” he states simply. “I wanted to get inside your knickers.”

Hermione growls while he laughs, then they’re both diving for the gun, reaching it at the same time and rolling back and forth as they fight for control. She wrestles for the grip while he fumbles with the release switch, pulling it down as she wrenches the firearm away. The magazine slides out and hits the ground with a heavy thud. Tom kicks it across the floor and she takes aim at his head. He sits up with no time to spare as she pulls the trigger and the remaining bullet zips free from the chamber and strikes the brick fireplace, sending dust into the air.

She releases a sound of rage and throws the gun aside, stalling his brain when she lifts her skirt high, revealing a set of black lace garters. And then he catches sight of the gleaming knives strapped to her thigh and his senses come flooding back.

“Shite.” He rolls away as she begins throwing the blades with effortless skill, metal whizzing past his head and lodging into the hardwood. He grabs fashion magazines off the pile and holds them aloft, catching a knife darting for his face.

Tom knows she’s out of cutlery when she growls again and springs to her feet, charging him headlong. He manages to pull upright before she’s able to drive her knee into his skull, taking the blow to the side of his leg instead. What she lacks in muscle she more than makes up for with speed, delivering a series of rapid shots to his kidneys and ribs that leave him breathless. But when she takes aim at his neck for the knockout blow he catches her wrist and twists it behind her back. She bites her lip to keep from shouting, pretty face grimacing tight. His side is black and blue from her wicked right hook so he feels a thrill of satisfaction at her misery, that is until she drives her heel into his shin with such brutal force he’s certain she’s snapped his tibia in half.

Tom releases her and staggers back, the abrupt movement causing an object to dislodge from his pocket and roll across the floor. Hermione blinks, staring at the long and narrow cylinder as it comes to a stop between them, then glances up in disbelief.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not happy to see you,” he mutters, flexing his sore knee.

“Who the hell carries a grenade in their pocket?”

“The dating scene is rough. It’s good to be prepared.”

She shakes her head and springs forward with renewed purpose, grabbing photos off the mantle and launching them at his head like deadly missiles. He slaps them away, hissing when the corner of a metal frame clips him in the forehead, and then she’s leaping over the upturned couch like a gazelle and landing against his body, the forward momentum knocking them both to the ground. The strap of her dress tears as he knocks her sideways and rolls atop her thrashing form.

“Watch it! This is designer, arsehole!”

“Which designer?”

She shrugs, throwing a jab he blocks with his forearm. “How the hell should I know? Lavender’s closet was bursting with options.”

“And where is Ms. Brown?”

“Tied up in the closet, obviously.”

Tom smirks, then pushes away as she aims a punch at his groin. “Christ, you fight dirty, don’t you, luv?”

She rolls her eyes and springs to her feet, dress and hair a mess, face utterly stunning in its blood-lust. “You have no idea.”

Tom braces for round-three, raising a brow when she retreats for the window instead. He grips the side table and stands, watching her slide open the pane and perch atop the sill.

“This was fun,” he says, breathing in the cool night air. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Let me check my calendar and get back to you,” she replies, swinging her legs over the side and stepping onto the fire escape, moonlight framing her silhouette. “By the way,” she glances back with a smirk, “curry mustard beats malt vinegar’s arse any day of the week.”

Tom grins, limping forward as she begins to descend, shaking the metal structure as she goes. He peers through the window and watches her drop to the cement, sparing him one last glance before charging headlong into the dark night, disappearing around the next block.

She would be back. Her life was in as much danger as his until she completed her assignment (he looks forward to their second meeting.) But for now, Tom leans back and closes the pane, knocking the lingering glass from his hair.

“Well, as first dates go, that was undoubtedly one of my better ones.”

#drabble #unedited and ratchet af #tomione #love is a battlefield #alovelyvillain

[the--blackdahlia]

Armageddon Chapter 6 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 6

Summary:  Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: Mainly language I think

AN: Special thanks goes out to @flamencodiva! Get more chapters sooner by following me on Patreon!

The Song for this chapter is Ballroom Blitz by Krokus

(Y/n) had just finished throwing up in the toilet. This was around the fourth time today she had emptied her stomach. Splashing water in her face, she had hoped that Dean didn’t hear her. She brushed her teeth to get the vomit taste out of her mouth. She took a deep breath and hoped that whatever it was, would pass soon. Making her way to the room she shared with Dean she pulled out her favorite black cocktail dress. Once she had it on she sighed as she tried to get the zipper up.

“Need some help?” Dean asked, walking into the room. He slowly pulled the zipper up and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Nah,” (Y/n) blushed as she turned to face him, “I’m just ok. Let me fix your tie.” She whispered as she took his tie and helped him with his tie. Once she was done, she wrapped her arms around him, “Mr. Winchester, You are devilishly handsome tonight,” she whispered.  

“You sure we have to go to dinner?” Dean asked. “We could make Sam never want to sleep in his bed again.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Dean,” (Y/n) gave him a playful smack on his shoulder, “You know this is important, and besides.” She leaned in and nibbled on his earlobe. “There’s going to be free steak involved.”

“Mmmm, you had me at free steak.” Dean laughed. “Come on, Sam’s waiting downstairs.” They made their way down and saw Sam dozing in a chair in the living room. He cleaned up nicely, but looked so uncomfortable in a suit. It must be a Winchester trait.

“They make him work so hard,” (Y/n) muttered as she grabbed her purse. “Why don’t you wake him up, while I wait outside.” She kissed Dean gently was she walked outside.

“Do I have to be gentle about it?” Dean asked with a chuckle.

“Dean,” (Y/n) shook her head as she stepped out side.

Sam was snoring softly. He was exhausted from all the activities of the day. Plus felt like he was working harder than ever before. Dean walked over and shook Sam.

“Huh, what?” Sam said, jumping. He blinked a few times, looking around.

“Come on golden boy,” Dean gave him a pat on his shoulder. “We gotta go, (Y/n)’s waiting by the Impala.”

“Oh yeah.” Sam stretched and got up, rubbing his eyes. “When this is all over and we save the planet, I am taking a vacation.” Sam laughed a little.

“You can take Jessica and Ashton somewhere,” Dean suggested. “You know I’m sure if you talk to her, you guys might just work things out.”

“Last I heard, she had a boyfriend she was serious about.” Sam sighed. “I don’t think she wants me back anytime soon.”

“You never know until you try Sammy.” Dean gave his brother a reassuring smile. “Things might have changed since the last time you talked to her.”

Reaching the Impala Dean helped (Y/n) into the passenger side of the car.

“I’ll drive separate.” Sam said. He had never been great with awkward situations or anything, and he wasn’t sure if (Y/n) and Dean really wanted him to ride with them. He headed towards his car.

“Sam, why don’t you ride with us?” (Y/n) called. “You look like you could use a break.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You are not going to interrupt anything Sam,” (Y/n) smiled.

“Yeah, Sam come on,” Dean smiled. “Besides the fun stuff won’t start until we’re back here in your jacuzzi!” Dean joked.

“You stay out of my jacuzzi Dean!” Sam yelled, making (Y/n) laugh.

“OK, you want us to stay out of it,” Dean gave him a smile, “Then get inside Baby and let’s roll.”

Sam got in the car and rested his head against the window. Just like old times, riding in the backseat. But usually, it was dad and Dean upfront. It made Sam close his eyes to hold his depression down. He wanted everyone to think he was so happy, when in fact, he was miserable.It wasn’t long before they reached the restaurant. Dean didn’t want to use the Valet so he opted to find Parking alittle up the block. The trio made their way inside and were quickly ushered to the table Director Singer had reserved.

“Glad to see you found the place ok,” Bobby smiled as he shook Dean’s hand.

“Thanks for having us sir.” Dean smiled. Sam took his seat, sitting by John to make sure Dean didn’t have to. The waiter came and took their orders and Dean was a little surprised when Sam ordered a pretty strong drink.

“Sam are you ok?” Dean raised his eyebrow at Sam.

“Let the boy have a drink Dean, it isn’t going to kill him,” John breathed.

“I’m fine.” Sam gave Dean a smile. (Y/n) squeezed Dean’s hand and he looked over at her.

“So,” Bobby said as everyone finished ordering their drinks. “What is life in the oil business like?”

“It isn’t easy, I can tell you that,” John chuckled.

“Yeah, especially if you find Oil and get suspended right after.” Dean muttered as he took a sip of his whiskey.

“Yeah I grew up around that stuff, but I was not cut out for it. Dean’s an oil whisperer though.” Sam laughed, trying to deflect everything. “He’s amazing.”

“If you call almost causing a massive explosion amazing,” John coughed taking a sip of his bourbon.

“Dean, is of course, currently working on his Masters in Engineering at the University of Texas,” (Y/n) smiled at Dean before sending a glare at John.

“God, this is good alcohol.” Sam said, taking a drink.

“Right Sam?” (Y/n) breathed as she took a large gulp from her green apple martini.

(Y/n) had opted to sit next to Sam acting as an extra buffer against John. But it wasn’t working. She looked to Sam who gave her a worried look.

“Director Singer,” She decided to change the subject. “How did you get to become the Director of NASA?” she gave a nervous smile.

“I actually used to do what Sam did.” Bobby explained. “I worked my ass off and my way to the top. I think Sam is actually on the path to taking my spot when I retire.” Sam blushed and tried to get the attention off of him.

“Dean here would be a great candidate for the engineering team that builds the rockets.” Sam said. Bobby smiled.

“So I’ve heard.” Bobby said. “After this is all done and over with, maybe we could sit down and talk Dean.”

“I know he would be great at it,” (Y/n) gave his hand a squeeze as she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“That… that is a big career change but, I accepted a job working for the McLeod Oil Company in Louisiana,” Dean smiled as he drank his whiskey.

“What’s the point of a masters degree if you’re not going to use it?” John grumbled. Sam looked at (Y/n), not sure what to do.

“What’s good about having an oil rig if you can’t find oil,” Dean sneered.

“So, Garth, Ash, how is the racing going?” Sam asked, trying to change the subject. (Y/n) patted his thigh in thank you.

“Oh man! It is amazing,” Ash sat back and smiled, “ I mean the amount of pussy I get when I win.”

(Y/n) gave a groan as she placed her head in her hand. “Ash! Seriously!” she growled.

“I must say I profit off of it too.” Ketch smirked. Sam shivered. Bobby was enjoying this. Normally, he was stuck with a bunch of snooty and awkward scientists and politicians. This was so much more relaxing and entertaining.

“KETCH!” (Y/n) scolded. She chugged the rest of her martini just in time to ask the waiter for another one.

“Gotta say, this is the most fun I’ve had in awhile.” Bobby laughed. “And I bet Sam would probably say the same.”

“Yeah,” Dean smacked his lips together after his sip. “I noticed he has been working really long hours and he’s been losing sleep.”

“Dean,” (Y/n) whispered.  

“It’s okay Dean. It’s fine.” Sam said. He didn’t want to admit that he just didn’t want to be at home in an empty house.

“One meal a day, is not ok Sam.” Dean sighed, “Working almost forty hours straight is not fine.”

“Because you are the poster boy for health and fitness,” John grumbled, “Leave him alone Dean.”

Soon, the food came and the conversation died off. Part of Sam was just wanting a meteor to fly through the building and crush him so he didn’t have to deal with this awkward family gathering anymore. He couldn’t wait to get home, not that he would sleep very long. He had to be back at the complex bright and early to oversee training.

“So if Sam would have ended up in a car accident because he fell asleep at the wheel,” Dean turned to face his father. “You would be ok with that?”

“Of course not.” John said. Sam groaned and laid his head back against the chair. Why didn’t he just stay home?

“Guys, I’m fine! Bobby will vouch for me!”

“Well, Sam, you are working a lot…” Bobby said. “I was in your same boat and that’s why I’m on wife number three.”

“Ok, so I’m going to go for the apple pie for dessert,” (Y/n) stated as she looked at Sam. “What are you having?”

“It seems like you would be ok with Sam endangering his life if his work and eating habits don’t concern you,” Dean growled at John.

“Dean, please,” (Y/n) hissed.

“I’m calling it a night.” Sam stood up. “Dean has the key to the house. I’m going to the office.” He walked out then.

“See what you did?” Dean growled at John as he pushed back on his chair and chased after Sam. “Sam hold on, I drove you here, remember.”

“I’ll walk or I’ll get a cab or something.” Sam sighed. “I’m sorry I made you come Dean. I didn’t realize how bad things were between you and dad. I just thought…” He wiped at his eyes. “You always saved my world when I was little. I thought you could do it again.”

“What’s going on Sam? This isn’t you.” Dean placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“I’m okay.” Sam sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just gonna walk around for a bit. I have my cell phone.” He held up the Nokia. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Sam, talk to me,” Dean, “Forget Dad, what’s going on? You can always talk to me Sam”

“I’m depressed okay!” Sam said, turning to look at Dean. “I’ve got anxiety out the ass! And you’ve got (Y/n), and a life, and friends and...I can’t even make my marriage work with the girl I’ve been in love with for as long as I remember. But we don’t talk about this because we’re Winchesters.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t want to let anyone down, okay?” He turned to walk away.

Dean reached out and pulled him into a tight hug, “hey… It’s ok,” he whispered. “You have friends Sam, You have me and (Y/n),” Dean croaked. “You have Ash and Garth, you know we’ll be here for you Sammy.” Dean pulled back and placed his hand on either side of Sam’s head. “You can always talk to me baby brother, you should have talked to me.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your life.” Sam sighed. “You looked so happy the last time we saw each other and I wasn’t wanting to bring this into it.”

“Screw what’s going on with me and dad ok?” Dean looked Sam in the eye. “I don’t care how bad you think it is you call me! I will always be there for you, and you know (Y/n) will too.” Sam offered a small smile.

“Feel free to use the jacuzzi.” Sam said. “I’ll try to catch twenty minutes or so while I’m working.”

“Sam…” Dean was about to continue when John came out.

“I’ll catch you guys early tomorrow, so make sure to rest up.” Sam told Dean. “Make sure the other guys are good to go.”

Sam had rushed off before Dean could catch him again. Turning to John he clenched his fist. “How could you not know what was going on with him?”  

(Y/n) had come right out side after apologizing profusely to Bobby to hear Dean yell at John.

“What do you mean?” John asked. “He’s fine. He’s probably just stressed about the asteroid.”

“You are so blind,” Dean hissed, “you can dump on me all you want, but the fact that you can’t see that something is seriously wrong with Sam to the point that he is endangering himself… you’re a shitty excuse for a dad.”

(Y/n) held on to Dean’s arm, “Dean, please not here.” she pleaded. Dean looked down at her then looked up at John.

“Once this is all done and over, I don’t want to even see you anymore.” Dean growled, taking (Y/n)’s hand and leading her to the car. He was hoping they’d see Sam on the drive back to his house and could convince him to sleep in his own bed.

“Dean,” (Y/n) whispered. “What’s going on?”

“Sam’s having a hard time.” Dean told her as they got in the car. “And as much as dad praising him all the time pisses me off, he’s still my little brother.”

(Y/n) moved closer to Dean along the bench seat, “I know hun. But shouting at John isn’t going to help.” She caressed his cheek, “love you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed her gently before heading back to Sam’s house.

Forever Tags:  @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @queenslandlover-93 @screechingartisancashbailiff @strab0 @maaryisafangirl @deathofmissjackson @hellabrothers @fandom-princess-forevermore@luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @bella-ca @akshi8278

Supernatural Tags:  @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories @huntingfreewill @ocholove @princessofthefandomrealm

Armageddon Tags: @thefaithfulwriter

#Armageddon #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #reader #reader insert #sam winchester #supernatural #fanfiction #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki

[thrandilf]

Dauntlessly True to Himself Ch 2

The day usually started with Leon spending an unnecessary amount of time preening in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, and the day of his archery demonstration was no different.

“I really am the best merchant around!” Leon had missed the comforting weight of light archer’s armor. It was brand new from his own shop, since his original trusted coat was destroyed when he’d been injured. Leon felt confident and at home as he adjusted the pauldron over his left shoulder and turned around to check how the calf length coat flowed with him. His right shoulder area twinged with pain and he huffed, eying his reflection in the mirror as he slung his quiver onto his back.

“Damn it- just for a day, pull it together,” he mumbled. Leon compulsively checked that his face was blemish free and that the soft amount of makeup under his eyes to disguise his occasional restless night was perfect. He’d spent even longer than usually fussing over his hair, as if he couldn’t style it in his sleep by now. His new archery coat was strikingly similar to what he used to have, except it was a lighter shade of purple iris with even more embellishments down the front of turquoise and gold, designed to guide eyes all the way from head to toe.

Valbar might not judge by appearances, expect such meticulous perfection, or even notice how Leon aimed to impress every day, but he didn’t care. His charming smile and charisma came in handy for haggling with vendors and at this point it was the one aspect of himself he hadn’t lost.

He cheerily waved at passerby on the street, a spring in his step as he imagined Valbar’s proud expression when Leon finished the course. He’d set up the course the night before himself, with targets set at varying distances ranging from fifty to eighty yards, a few angled targets, and even a set of three wrapped around a giant tree trunk to test speed, depth perception, and general reflexes. Leon could pull such a stunt in his sleep, but after the years he worried his talent was forgotten. He couldn’t disappoint Valbar in any way, shape or form.

Leon’s determination brewed inside of him, hot and potent as he and a stablehand groomed and saddled his horse. The sun was minutes from its full height in the sky as Leon rode out to the training field, proud and striking as he made a dramatic galloping entrance. He automatically scanned the small crowd of archery students and other curious knights for Valbar. He noticed the slouching hooded boy Forsyth had glared at and Luthier standing next to Valbar in the back. Leon beamed with joy at seeing Valbar, despite how skeptical Valbar looked.

He could fix that.

Leon gradually came to a halt in front of the group, tossing his hair over his shoulder as he gave them all a smile. It was satisfying being on a horse in front of a crowd of people on foot. “Good afternoon! Welcome! I’m Sir Leon, not that anyone doesn’t know who I am, and I will be giving a lesson on navigating this year’s archery games! Archery on horseback requires both precision and speed, as well as expert horsemanship. While you’ll have to fire rapidly, it pays to know how you’ll be moving with your horse. There’s a point in a galloping gait where all four hooves are off the ground, which makes for the smoothest time to fire…”

He rambled on while idly running his fingertips along the edges of the fletching on his arrows, praying to whatever gods that were still alive that he wasn’t about to actually do something stupid. Leon finished his lecture and, with all eyes of his students and scattered friends on him, rode to the start of the course with his light bow in hand.

Leon turned smoothly onto the opening stretch of the straight dirt path and draped his reigns over the pommel, letting his horse canter without his lead. Adrenaline shot down his spine from years of warfare and he reflexively readied an arrow in a fluid motion and drew it back-

“AAAAAAAAAAAUGH!” he bellowed in agony. Pain paralyzed his right arm down from his shoulder to his fingertips, muscles and nerves screaming to stop the strain. Time seemed to freeze and he fired the arrow, the release a welcome relief. Tears threatened to spill into Leon’s eyes and he bit his tongue, anger at himself, his inability, his loss burning inside of him.

There was no way in hell he could draw another arrow with his shoulder.

Leon was officially, finally facing how done his career was. He couldn’t even pretend or lie to himself anymore thinking he was indefinitely in reserve.

He was legitimately useless to Valbar on the battlefield. It couldn’t be.

[[MORE]]

In his muddled shock, he could feel every hoof fall under him. If this was his last time with a bow in hand, in front of his beloved- the last battle, even if it was against himself, he’d give it his one hundred and ten percent. Valbar was there. Leon had never been anything but his best self with Valbar watching.

Leon’s right arm and upper back made every motion torturous as his horse galloped and he quickly switched hands. His right hand gripped the bow with seized up muscles as his left frantically fumbled for arrows. Leon grit his teeth and rapidly fired as many arrows as he could, only having passed by a few targets. It was awkward, clumsy, and he could barely see, much less hold himself steady anymore. The arrows rested on the opposite side of the bow, his left shoulder had barely ever done such a motion before, and his instincts screamed that it was all wrong, but he attempted to hit every single target he’d set up.

The entire course only took forty seconds, but Leon was too far gone to hear the scattered applause and shouts, or notice his horse was slowing down to bring him back to Valbar and everyone else before he simply let his feet leave the stirrups and flew off his mount.

~-~

Death tasted like mana herbs.

Leon groaned and discovered he wasn’t dead, and had just spit saliva coated clumps of herbs on himself. His entire body was numb except his face. He managed to wiggle a foot and open his eyes to the crowd of spectators standing around him. He was exceptionally pleased to see Valbar’s face above his, with a hand in Leon’s hair. If only it was under different circumstances. “You okay?” asked Valbar.

The initial shock of impact was wearing off and Leon tried to talk around the bitter leaves. “Yur uh difficult persob to argue wiff.” Valbar gently wrapped an arm around Leon’s waist and lifted him from the ground easily, helping him to his feet. Despite the dulled pain in his upper back, being in Valbar’s arms for a moment made Leon smile lightheadedly. Leon wavered but could brace himself against Valbar enough to stand, forcing down the herbs with a cough. “Ugggghhh. How’d I do?”

Silence.

Leon looked around in confusion at the huddle around him. “Well?”

Luthier took one for the group as he put his hands on Leon’s back and channeled a healing spell into him. “After the first shot, you missed every single target by a country mile.”

Well then. Leon leaned on Valbar and snorted, laughing so hard he wheezed. A few students hesitantly giggled and Leon wiped at his face. “God, okay. Alright. I’m retired for a reason everybody- sorry to disappoint.”

A teenage girl raised her hand and bounced on her heels. “Is it true you shot a necrodragon but didn’t hurt it because your arrow went through both eye sockets?”

Leon nodded, puffing his chest out but then winced. “Yes, that was quite a battle. Necrodragons are only really susceptible to seraphim magic.”

“Are you ambidextrous?” asked another student. “I’ve never even tried to shoot left handed.”

Leon blinked in confusion. He’d expected them to all disperse with disappointment. Instead, all of Valbar’s students and a few outsiders were surrounding him eagerly. “Er, no. I’ve only shot left handed a couple times. It feels really different to switch sides, although it’s not a bad idea for you young, able bodied people to experiment.”

“Could you teach us with Valbar?”

“I bet you have tons of stories!”

“I’m still scared of riding a horse without holding the reigns, how do you do it?”

Leon couldn’t help a grin spreading across his face. Warm pride blossomed in his chest, perhaps even moreso than if he’d actually shown off. “You guys still want me to hang around and teach after that?”

“Yeah!”

Valbar affectionately nudged Leon. “I think you’ve already taught them something, Leon.”

“That’s true.” Leon gingerly stretched his arms, sighing in relief that he could still move fluidly with only a few minor aches that would eventually fade. “Only you can know your own limits- on the battlefield and anywhere else. And-“ he turned to face Valbar with a fond expression. “-no matter how proud, arrogant, and stubborn you are, it’s okay to need help.”

“That’s right.” Valbar surveyed the group. “Alright, let’s get some practice in! Leon, up to being my assistant?”

“Always.”

Leon favored his right arm for the rest of the day, but thoroughly enjoyed working at Valbar’s side. He gave archers tips and pointers on foot, directed simple calvary exercises, and couldn’t stop feeling elated with Valbar close by. While Forsyth was strict, Lukas was reserved, and Mycen was a rare sight but one to be reckoned with, Valbar was warm and kind. He focused on team exercises and positive encouragement, eyes sweeping over his pool of students and making sure no one was left behind. Leon tried to adopt the same teaching method, giving praise and aid wherever merited.

“Canter! Good!” Leon had the timid student who was unsure of themselves out on a lunge line, putting their horse through their paces while the student held their bow, eyes constantly darting to their saddle horn. Leon tsked and called out to them, “Eyes up! Straighten your posture, relax into it- good! Keep it up!”

He didn’t even notice Valbar watching him until he was helping his pupil dismount (with more encouraging words than actual muscle). Leon turned and almost ran directly into Valbar, stopping just short of his imposing chest with a laugh. “Oh! Hi- my bad.”

“Will you join us for dinner?”

Leon shrugged. “Sure, why not?” He grinned at the small group of adolescents milling around, getting ready to leave for supper. “If anyone’s qualified to gossip about you to all of your adoring students, it’s me.”

Valbar chuckled and clapped Leon on his good shoulder. “I know, you could make me blush with your wild, vivid tales of our adventures together. But-“ he gestured to the field as they walked. “-I don’t think I’m the only one adored here, Leon. Beneath all that snark, you have a soft heart after all. The ability to teach proves your skills even better than a simple demonstration would’ve. You’re far more than your ability to hit a target.”

Leon could never stop Valbar-induced smiles from spreading across his face with pure joy. “Oh please- now you’re flattering me. I quite like it! Listen though, I know how much you helped me when I was just some scrawny archer who was terrified, hopeless, alone, and far from home. If you give anyone the sort of confidence and stability you gave me, you’re the best teacher in all of Zofia.”

Valbar finally did blush. “Well, how to respond? You’re biased for one thing- no one else admires me in every way as much as you to begin with.”

Leon’s heart skipped a beat in fear that he’d gone too far, but he laughed as he read Valbar’s easygoing gait and sly grin as only pleased. They mutually avoided mentioning Leon’s romantic inclination towards Valbar. Leon knew he’d been let down gently in the past, and was more than happy to just be friends with the most important person in his life. Valbar bringing it up so casually made an ancient knot of tension loose in Leon’s chest. Valbar genuinely didn’t mind after all. “Hmmm, yes, I suppose I am. I see the truth clearer than anyone else.”

“Oh? And what’s the truth?”

“Oooooh, I could gush about you for hours, but if I had to pick one thing- you give the best hugs.”

Whatever Valbar was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Hugs?”

“Yes!” Leon’s own cheeks tinged pink. He had no qualms about singing Valbar’s praises, but it was such an intimate thing to admit. “Those bulky muscles of yours give strong, secure, perfect hugs where I feel like I’m cocooned in pure security and warmth. Sometimes you even pick me up a bit and my feet leave the ground and I totally relax in your supernatural hugging abilities. You’re astounding.”

“Wow.” Valbar huffed fondly. “No wonder you’re a merchant. Now I want to be hugged by me.”

Leon opened his mouth to continue but he inhaled deeply instead, eyes widening and stopping in his tracks, urgently tugging Valbar’s arm. “Wait- do I smell-“

Valbar nodded, sniffing too. “Ah, it seems Prince Conrad has been stress baking.”

“COOKIES!” Leon bolted forward, Valbar momentarily forgotten as he sprinted towards the intoxicating scent radiating from the dining hall and kitchen. “MOVE, I’M GAY!” He had so much momentum he couldn’t stop in time as a group of people rounding a corner in the crosshairs of his path and he body slammed someone in his cookie inspired frenzy, shrieking as they toppled over.

“Oh gods, you haven’t changed a bit.” A familiar groan sounded from below Leon and Leon gasped with disbelief.

“Kamui?!” Leon sat up off where they were sprawled on the stone pathway and grinned, brushing himself off. “Oh I’m so sorry- I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Not just Kamui.” A tanned hand appeared in Leon’s field of vision and Leon widened his eyes. He pulled himself up with help by Jesse, who giving Leon his best smile complete with a friendly wink. “King Jesse of the Eastern Sands, at your service.”

Kamui rolled over on the ground with a sigh. “Why don’t the pretty boys help me up?”

Another familiar voice pulled Leon from staring at Jesse in disbelief. “Stop your drama, kid!” Saber pulled Kamui to his feet with a roll of his eye. “We gotta see Celica, it’s just easy to get lost in such a huge castle.”

“WATCH OUT BELOW!”

A crowd was gathering again at the sight of new arrivals, and this time it was clear why. Three falcon knights circled high above the castle parapets, swooping down admist wild cheering to land in a triangular stance together. The three girls struck a pose with the gathering of spectators around them, introducing themselves with flourishes.

“Palla!”

“Catria!”

“And EST!”

“The Whitewing Sisters!” Clair broke through the crowd and almost fell into Est’s arms with excitement as Est dismounted. Est laughed and hugged her as Clair gushed. “I’m so excited to meet you!”

“It’s fun to see Valentia again! This part of Zofia is beautiful!” Est bounced on her feet excitedly as Catria and Palla surveyed the area around them.

Catria nudged Palla and gestured away from everyone. “The throne room is that way if we saw correctly. Let’s go.”

Jesse held his hands up and waved. “Hey! Wait, wait we should all go together! Did I lose anyone? All three Pegasus riders, me, Saber- Genny and Atlas, you guys stuck?”

Atlas and Genny emerged from behind the alicorns. Atlas had made visits to Zofia Castle for Celica before and shrugged, still in his fur trimmed woodcutter outfit. Genny stood next to him scribbling excitedly in a leather bound journal. She looked up and smiled brightly. “Oh, this sequel to our adventure is going so well! I can’t wait to see Celica.”

Valbar stood in the center of the group and beckoned everyone towards him. “Why not have dinner first? Celica has been resting in private lately.”

“YES! CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES!” Leon grabbed Valbar and Kamui’s hands and led a charge into the dining hall, laughing and elated as they surrounded Prince Conrad who was handing out warm cookies from a table covered with baking pans. Mae, Boey, and their children were helping him with cleaning up, Boey gently shooing all of the little ones away from the table to wash their hands.

Conrad was shaking with a severe lack of sleep and the area under his eyes was an exhausted gray but he smiled for Leon. “Oh, my biggest fan! It’s relief to have at least one thing under control.”

Leon eagerly gave Valbar a cookie so fast he almost dropped it and then unceremoniously shoved one in his own face with a low groan. Kamui rolled his eyes and had to grab one for himself, reaching around Leon. Leon listened to the alicorn riders and all of the new arrivals mix together around him to introduce themselves and get situated at Alm’s huge table for dinner as he entered a chocolate induced trance. His eyes fell closed and Leon moaned again, a soft sigh escaping his lips as the warm bittersweet chocolate melted into the brown sugar and vanilla against his tongue. It was baked to perfection- the center moist and rich with the lightest crisp on the edges. His toes curled and Leon hazily opened his eyes to take another bite of sugary heaven. “Ooooooooooooh, aaaah, hmmmmm- /yes/.”

“I feel like I should leave the room,” joked Kamui next to him.

Leon ignored him and grabbed another cookie, sitting by Valbar with another sensual groan, ignoring the stares and giggles at the table and missing how Valbar’s face was pink from Leon’s shameless noises of euphoria. “Aaaaaaahhhhhh- God it’s so GOOD!”

Conrad laughed weakly. “I’m glad. I’ve been barely sleeping with all the event planning.”

Alm was busy greeting everyone but got enough space to himself to sit down. “Conrad, please, sit down and promise me you’ll sleep tonight and just-“ he glanced around to make sure Sir Mycen was out of earshot, “-make my grandfather do everything, since he clearly doesn’t need sleep like the rest of us. Wow, everyone! It’s amazing to meet you all again- Celica is expecting you.”

Saber dished himself up a heaping plate of potatoes and meat. “She better be- she invited us.”

“Oh don’t be so grumpy to our majesty!” chastised Jesse. He flung his blond curls back and grabbed a plate. “We were unfortunately delayed by weather conditions. We were all traveling together for days longer than we anticipated.” Jesse beamed happily. “I’d say we got quite cozy!”

Catria and Palla groaned as Est and Genny giggled. “We’re flying back ALONE,” declared Catria.

Palla made eye contact with Jesse as he opened his mouth. “No, Jesse.”

Jesse turned to Est. “H-“

“I’m married.” Est held up her hand to show off a wedding band to ooohs and aaahs from around the table. “I’m having my honeymoon once we get back!”

Genny set her pen aside only to eat a bite now and then, absorbed in her writing and barely paying attention to her own plate. “I’m married too.”

Mae shrieked and smacked the table across from Genny hard enough to rattle the silverware. “TO WHO????”

“It’s a secret!” Genny hid behind her book, grinning as Mae bounced in her seat.

Gray leaned forward towards the Whitewing Sisters and Clair sighed loudly as he spoke. “Tobin and I have been thinking-“

“No we haven’t,” interjected Tobin. “Don’t blame me for this-“

“-and we’ve decided that a group of Pegasi would be called a flerd- a flock and herd! Are we right?”

Palla thought about it while Est readily nodded. “Uh- you know? They’re more horse than bird, so I guess we always said herd.”

“I like ‘flerd’,” Est said.

Luthier, at the discussions of Pegasi, leaned forward in his seat from all the way down the table. “While language itself is ever evolving and contractions may become words themselves over time, the idea of mixing two definitions for the sake of-“

“No, no, it’s Flerd now,” agreed Catria, cracking a smile.

The conversations paused as Boey arrived late, herding his three recently washed toddlers. “Prince Conrad’s cookies are done! Leon even saved you some! What do you say?”

“Yay!” chorused all three children.

“I’ll take that.” Boey sighed and sat down next to Mae. “I know kids are supposed to eat in the nursery-“

“It’s alright,” said Alm with his typical gentleness. He glanced at the kids excitedly getting themselves fresh cookies. “They could be my son’s playmates someday.”

There had been rumors going around about what the royal family would name their new prince. No one was supposed to know until the christening, but it wasn’t going to stop anyone from speculating.

“Ah yes.” Jesse straightened himself in his seat. “Prince Jesse, was it?”

“Oh please, he’s DEFINITELY gonna name his kid Prince Gray,” replied Gray.

Clive caught on to the game and grinned as it bounced around the table. “May I submit Clive as a good possibility?”

“Kamui is an honorable name.”

“Hmmm, surely you went with Lukas.”

“Prince Tobin, cause I’m your BEST friend, right?”

Alm waved his hand. “I’m not allowed to tell! It’ll be a surprise!”

Boey lifted one of the toddlers up to cuddle between him and Mae. “I’d say Boey, but we have that covered.”

Mae nodded energetically. “Boey, Zoe, and Chloe!” She held one of the triplets on her lap, careful to not get any chocolate on herself as the child happily ate their cookie. “I’m missing one right now- oh there they are! It’s okay, they’re all cuddly and mostly harmless.”

Leon blinked with confusion as he felt a small tug on his sleeve. He looked down at the child next to him. All three of them looked practically identical with bright pale pink hair, Boey’s skin tone, and Mae’s eyes. Leon had never known exactly how to interact with kids even when he was one. “Uh, hi.”

“Purble!” The toddler rested their cheek against Leon’s thigh and pointed at his hair.

“Yes. I’m purple.”

Leon was ready to accept being cuddled until they giggled and fully hugged him from the side, so overcome with joy that a wave of uncontrolled magical static jolted them both. Leon jumped with a shriek, the sensation not painful but deeply unsettling. “Agh! What- oh no!” Leon sprung out of his chair and desperately tried to pet his hair down, panicking as people laughed at their antics. His soft hair relentlessly stood on end as he had a catfight with his own head, facing away from Valbar specifically.

“They’re going to be quite powerful mages,” commented Luthier. “Delthea was casting all sorts of accidental spells at a young age.” He paled at the mere memory of it and Delthea giggled.

Kamui warily scooted away from the gleeful toddler next to him whose hair was standing on end. Valbar, however, scooped them up into his arms and smiled as they immediately started eating his dinner with their bare hands. “I miss having my own little one. Having three must be quite a handful.”

“Oh yes.” Mae nodded. “I’m sorry if it’s a bad time- you were a father?”

Valbar chuckled as the toddler on him managed to get potato on his leg. “It’s alright, the wound isn’t as raw anymore. I lost my entire family to a pirate raid. However, as much as I loved having a son, I don’t see myself having another kid.” Valbar tried to help the child on him clean their mouth with a napkin and didn’t bat an eye when they suddenly decided to doze against his shoulder. “My life is going in a different direction, and there are enough people around me to love.”

Leon clamored back into his seat, still fussing with his hair as he fondly eyed Valbar. Even after Leon’s embarrassment at the archery field, Valbar still valued him. Valbar loved everyone. It made Leon’s heart swell with affectionate pride, impressed that his own feelings could blossom further. “You’ve never been bitter. That’s so sweet of you, being so good with kids.”

“I love them.” Valbar looked at the child snoozing on him with such affection as if they were his own. “Right now it feels like I have 50 kids with all those recruits.”

The conversation would’ve continued but a sudden hush fell over the dining hall. Within a moment of glancing around, Leon could see why.

Queen Celica entered the room flanked by Sir Mycen and Mathilda. Mathilda rarely appeared in public anymore, while she usually said it was to stay at her and Clive’s estate to be a mother, those in the castle had figured out that she was a personal guard to Celica when needed. Several people rose to their feet and Jesse scrambled out of his seat to bow but Celica smiled and offered him her hand up. “My friends, you bow to no one. It’s so good to see you all again.”

Genny and Mae exchanged a glance and then ran to hug Celica together, squishing Jesse (who didn’t seem particularly bothered) in with them. The Whitewing Sisters joined in on the group hug and Celica was practically hidden from sight, surrounded by loving friends. She was just as casual as Alm around the castle, happy to see familiar faces.

“We missed you!”

“Are you okay? You just had a kid!”

“You should demand we visit more!”

Celica stood on her tiptoes and waved to Alm frantically, laughing as he and Mathilda rescued her. “Yes! I’m only suffering from being fussed over too much, the baby and I are just fine. He’s fast asleep and well fussed over.”

“Would that be Prince Jesse, my lady?” Jesse teased.

“Forsyth is a much better name!” stated Forsyth.

Leon jumped in on the fun, not missing an opportunity to declare his love for Valbar. “Now let’s be honest- Valbar is the best name.”

“Is this what you’ve had to put up with?” giggled Celica, sitting next to Alm at the head of the table.

“Yes, dear. They’re relentless.”

Celica warmly looked around at everyone, inner circle and commoner alike. “We have less than two weeks before the festivities to get ready- lets make it the best Zofia has ever seen!”

#valeon #fire emblem echoes #fe sov #fire emblem shadows of valentia #leon fire emblem #fanfic #fire emblem #long post #if the read more breaks

[vytraveldiary2]

New Zealand Day 2 - Mount Cook National Park

November in New Zealand is considered spring and a shoulder season for tourism. Although the weather can be nice on some days, spring weather can still be unpredictable and prone to rain. We found ourselves slightly regretting scheduling our trip during this time when we woke up today and saw that it would be yet another rainy and cloudy day. There goes the plans to watch the sunrise over Lake Tekapo! Instead, we waited out the rain while making a delicious breakfast featuring a delicious venison sausage that was recommended to us by one of the Pak N' Save. It was packed of flavor and not greasy at all. We had a fun time observing what our hostelmates were preparing for breakfast; usually people in hostels cook very simple meals but this group of people were more like gourmet chefs. One guy was making a yummy soup with beef, enoki, and many vegetables. Another guy was cooking rice and making a delicious smelling ground beef dish cooked in peanut oil and sliced ginger. Such a motivated group of travelers!

By the time we packed up our bags, there was partial sunlight so we excitedly loaded the car and headed out to the lake. There was a cool looking swing activity at the playground by Foursquare grocery store that we had spotted the night before that we wanted to try. It required pulling the swing up to a platform, and then jumping on the swing and then enjoying the ride with views of the lake on our left. (Kind of like ziplining but with a rope with an attached seat). Wheeeeee! It was a lot of fun and such a cool addition to the playground. We then wandered to the lake edge, where we saw some pretty lupins (a beautiful weed that can be found throughout New Zealand, and what this lake is known for). We were lucky to see a few in bloom, since peak bloom doesn't start until end of November/December. We saw a ton of tourists at the Church of the Good Shepphard across from the pedestrian bridge at the lake. This church is the most photographed chuch in New Zealand, but we decided to skip it. Satisied that we got to see the lake in partial sunlight, we hopped into the car and made our way to the next destination, Mount Cook National Park. 

The drive to Mount Cook consists of driving alongside another beautiful blue lake, Lake Pukaki. This lake is even bigger than Lake Tekapo and probaby would have been really breathtaking in the sunlight. We stopped by the Lake Pukaki viewing point, which had a little tiny visitor center where we purchased some sashimi, which was enjoyed as a car picnic with rainy lake views. The salmon was very fresh and also at a great price too!

Our drive took us past the lake and into the mountain ranges, where we saw mountain peaks enclosed by clouds and fog, giving us a very mysterious vibe. We tried to imagine what it would look like on a clear day, with sunlight glistening on the snow covered mountain peaks, although it was still beautiful in a forebodding way. We made a quick pit stop at our hostel, and then headed out to do the Hooker Valley Hike. 

Hooker Valley Hike is the most popular hike in the area, and it was easy to see why. It offered incredible views of mountain ranges, the surrounding valley, and included river crossings on beautifully built suspension bridges. "Hike" was a misnomer, as we quickly discovered. It was more like an easy stroll through the 6.8 miles of very paved pathways. The views were very magical even on a cloudy and rainy day, and we were rewarded with a beautiful view of Hooker Lake surrounded by snow capped mountains at the end of the hike. Although extremely windy and rainy at the lake, we still enjoyed our customary sandwich picnic before headed back on the return journey. It was definitely one of the most pretty hikes that we had ever been on, and we cannot even imagine what it would look like on a beautiful sunny day. 

Soaked from the rain, we warmed up and dried off for a bit at the hostel before heading out to see the Tasman Glacier and Tasman Lake. We climbed the steps up to the Tasman Glacier Viewpoint, which allowed us to glimpse the Blue Lakes, which is not blue but rather green. It used to be fed by glacial waters, giving it a blue appearance. As the glaciers melted and became less plentiful, it allowed algae to populate the lake, giving it a green color instead. We reached the viewpoint, and coud hardly see any glaciers since they have mostly all melted away. It was quite sad to see. However, we did enjoy the view of the lake from the viewpoint. We then headed back down the steps and took another path to go up to the lake front, where we saw a view boat rentals carryinig crowds of tourists on tours of the lake. 

Cold and wet once again, we decided to retire to the hostel for the night. The hostel was a very crowded but cozy, and we were very lucky to have a place to stay for the night considering how limited accomodations were in Mount Cook (especially affordable ones with kitchens).  We had a fancy dinner consisting of soy glazed steak, potatoes, and asparagus with a glass of peach and passionfruit cider on the side. It felt so good to be warm and dry and enjoying the food that we cooked ourselves. We didn't win for the most impressive dinner though, as there was a family next to us eating a very mouth watering chinese feast. We went to bed, satisfied that we were able to check off everything on our itinerary despite the weather (apart from stargazing, which would have been amazing as well in Mount Cook National Park, which was also part of the dark sky reserve). 

#newzealand2019

[thatoneidioticrainbow]

Little Assassin (Mob!Tom)

A/N: Hey! This is one of my first official imagines/ short stories and i’m super nervous about it lol. It’s utter shit, just saying, but i hope you like it because i was pretty excited to write it. 

Prompt: (i saw this prompt on my instagram feed) “You are an assassin. A little girl has just come up to you, handed you all her pocket money and asked you to kill her abusive relative.” I’ll be keeping the same idea, but switching it up a bit. 

Warnings: abuse, death, swearing, violence, mentions of sexual assault, mentions of prostitution, 

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Pasts were like a lost puppy; they followed you everywhere. No matter how much you try to run away, or how much you shoo them off, they find you. It’s almost like a sick game, the way they infest you and try to latch back onto you no matter how much you’ve done to separate yourself from it (that being pasts, not the puppy). I would know, because I’ve been running from mine for as long as i could remember.

It seemed like the mob life followed me around no matter what I did. My destiny was preordained in the stars, and there really was no way to change it. I was born to a family of powerful mobsters, and i was taught to never forget it. My father was high up on the food chain, and he tore people apart left and right. He never had a son, and to him it was a very big loss. He complained to my mother on countless nights that he didn’t have someone to take over for him when he retired, or worse, died. Over a cup of wine one night, my mother rolled her eyes and gulped the whole glass down before saying, “We have a perfectly good daughter who can take your place.” Although my father wasn’t happy about it, he decided it was the only option.

He trained me from the age of six how to fight with knives, and when i was seven he taught me how to fire a gun. I remember hating him for forcing me to grow up too fast; for robbing me of a normal childhood. One day i couldn’t take it anymore, and I finally snapped. 

“Why won’t you just leave me alone? I don’t wanna become like you! I don’t wanna hurt people!” not even a few seconds after i had finished, he struck me across the cheek and screamed back.

“You don’t have a choice! Someone has to do it, and there is no one else! And don’t you ever, ever, speak to me like that again.” With tears in my eyes, i turned on my heels and rushed back to my room, my cheek hurting like crazy, but mostly i was hurt because my father laid his hand on me. Right then and there, i wished him dead, and i wished my mother cared enough to find and comfort me.

I guess i got my wish, because later that year, five days after my eighth birthday, i witnessed his gruesome murder by one of his own men. 

My mother fell into a deep depression, not exactly sure what to do now that her husband was gone. She had a daughter to somehow raise, a mob on her hands, and a huge mansion to herself. She drank a lot more than she normally did, and the mob that had been in my family for generations fell through, scattering men like spiders. After a few years of living in silence, my mother decided to become a prostitute, selling her body for a buck so she could buy drugs to help her feel numb. 

I was barely ever home anymore, because i didn’t want to look at the woman i was supposed to call ‘mother’. The last straw was when she wanted to sell me off to men who wanted me for sex. She was willing to sell her ten year old daughter away to be a sex toy for grown men. So i ran away, and flew between the streets, group homes, and homeless shelters before i found a way to make a living for myself the only way i knew how: being in the mob.

I was a private assassin, meaning i worked alone. I hated doing it, because i was walking down the path my father wanted me to walk down. I was only eighteen. I kept to myself; i was quiet and reserved, barely speaking to anyone more than i had to. No one knew about me unless they needed me, and that was how i met Tom. 

When Tom and i were falling in love, i shamed myself every day for involving myself more with the mob; i wanted nothing to do with it. After all, the Holland’s ruled most of London, but i couldn’t keep away from him, and just had to except it for how it was. I stopped being an assassin, finally able to go to college and get that degree i so desperately wanted.

But all that was in the past, and i reminded myself that i needed to stop thinking about it, because none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was that i was finally happy; i was with the man i so desperately loved, and the job i wanted for years. So i drove all the bad memories out of my head as i walked down the sidewalk, shopping bags in my hands.

I felt the pocket of my jeans vibrate, and a second later my ringtone began to play. 

“Shit.” i muttered to myself. I swapped the two bags from my right hand to my left, before pulling the cell phone out of my pocket. My eyes flickered to the caller ID, and i snickered, seeing that it was my best friend. 

“Hello?” i answered, quickly blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes. 

“Hey, Y/n.” Carrie said hurriedly, and i could hear rummaging noises in the back round. 

“Hey...Did you, like, not leave your house yet?” I said, rolling my eyes. She huffed on the other end, and i could hear her slapping her thighs in frustration.

“I can’t find the damned keys.” she mumbled into the phone, and i laughed out loud. 

“Well, you better hurry up, because it’s getting cloudier out, and i think it’s gonna-”

“Aha! Found them!” She interrupted, and i pulled the phone away slightly, her voice still audible through the receiver. 

“Yeah, on the way now.” she said.

“Right. Call when you get here, or when another set back happens.” i said, a smirk on my lips. 

“Fuck you.”

“Love ya more! Bye!” I hung up, then stuffed the phone back into my front pocket. I continued walking around the strip mall, stopping at an ice cream shop to get a cup of bubble tea. I glanced up at the sky to see dark clouds spreading out further, and i frowned, knowing with my luck it would pour the second Carrie arrived. I sighed deeply, and decided to sit down at one of the tables outside the ice cream shop. I set the bags down at my feet, and pushed my long y/h/c hair away from my face. I clicked open my phone, and began scrolling through different social media apps. I almost didn’t notice the little girl that was approaching me. 

My head snapped up, scarring the girl who appeared to be seven. My years spent being on the streets heightened my senses, and i was always observant even when i didn’t think i was. The girl gulped and walked the few more steps towards me. I could tell she had something in her hands, and my eyes flickered around the sidewalk, watching out for anyone who was noticing us. 

“Are you Y/n Y/l/n?” she asked, her voice shaky but defiant. Her eyes were hazel, and i could tell they held fear, but she seemed so fearless. 

“I am.” i answered, slightly confused as to how she knew my name. She took a deep breath before emptying the contents in her hands all over the table. Seven dollar bills and around twenty coins spilled onto the plastic table. My eyebrows shot up, staring at the girl in shock. 

“I need you to kill someone.” she stated, not flinching or cringing at her own words. My heart hammered against my chest, and i felt a spell of dizziness. I scanned the area again, looking for anyone who seemed too suspicious. Thunder cracked over our heads, and i knew the clouds were only getting darker. 

“I don’t do that anymore.” i whispered quickly to her, grabbing my bags and getting ready to speed walk back to the car. I stood up and took one step, before her small hand reached out and wrapped around my wrist. 

“But it’s important!” she yelped, desperation in her eyes. I closed my eyes to gain my composure, shaking my head.

“Listen, I’m really sorry, but i don’t do that kind of stuff anymore. I’m retired. Tell your mommy or daddy that i can’t help them.” i said, before turning back around. Her hand tightened around mine, pulling me back. 

“But i have money! And it’s not my parents who need you. It’s me.” she said. I glanced back at the small pile of money still sitting on the table. I picked up the bills and counted them. She had sixteen dollars and fifty-one cents. 

“It was all the money i had in my piggy bank.” she whispered, her eyes now filling with tears. My heart softened, but still, i wanted nothing more to do with being an assassin than i already was. I looked at her more carefully, and i could see that her clothes were lightly disheveled, as if she was sleeping in a dirty place. 

“What do you need me to do?” i asked.

“It’s...It’s my step dad. He hits my mommy, and he hits me sometimes. And sometimes he touches me weirdly. And I...I hate him.” She whimpered, tears spilling over her eyelashes. I thought about my own childhood; how my dad was, how he hit me and raised me, and how my mother was never there. I didn’t need to hear anything else, i was already putting my foot through the door. This once, just this once, fuck retirement. 

I put my hand under the table, and pushed all her money off the table and into my hand. 

“Keep your money, hun.” i said, handing the cash back to her. 

“But...”

“No, i got you. Here’s what you need to do: I’m going to give you my number. Call me when you get home and tell me your address.” i said, quickly jotting down my phone number onto the back of a napkin. 

“Thank you.” she said, her eyes filling with tears again, and her voice small with relief. She spun around on her heels, and began running away. 

“Hey!” i called out. She stopped and turned around. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Avery.” she said, before running away. 

On the way to the car, i quickly dialed Carrie’s number. 

“Hello?” she said, right as i flung open the car door. 

“Hey, Carrie, I’m so so sorry, but something came up. I need to go take care of something, i’m really sorry. Maybe we can reschedule for next week, i’m sorry, i love you.” i spoke quickly, not giving her a chance to speak. 

“What-” i hung up before she could finish. 

Nerves ate at me as i drove home. I hadn’t been on the job in over four years. I didn’t know if i could still do what i used to, and how the young girl knew about me. Still though, this sweet little girl needed my help, and i’ll be damned if i didn’t give it to her.

I didn’t have any of my weapons on me, and i was worried i had forgotten where they were placed. When i pulled into the driveway of Tom and I’s shared house, i was out of the car in seconds. Jogging up the front porch stairs, i muttered a quick hello to the security men outside the doors, then burst through the double wooden doors.

“Tom!” i called out, my eyes scanning the living room. 

“He’s out, Mrs. Y/n.” Angela, one of the maids said. I smiled and nodded, then ran up the staircase towards our room. 

The proper attire to wear while out on a job was tricky. I always used to dress appropriately for the occasion. When i first started, i wore a sweatshirt and leggings. When i got money, and made bar calls, i bought nice dresses in order to appear flirtatious and vulnerable. I usually knew more about the people i was supposed to kill or hurt, but this time i knew nothing other than one thing: there was a man hurting women, but most importantly, he was hurting children. 

I flung open the closet doors, flicking on the lights that illuminated the walk in closet. All of Tom’s suits and other clothes took up the left side, my clothes took up the right. I quickly looked over all my clothes, hangers skidding across metal rods. Finally, i ripped a tank top and leather jacket off hangers, and decided to keep on the dark blue jeans. 

‘Call me’, was the text i sent to Tom before slipping on the clothes. Right before i darted back downstairs, my phone rang. Hoping it was Tom -and my nerves calming down at the thought of him- i jumped for the phone on the bed. Unknown caller. My heart sank, but i picked up the phone anyways. 

“Avery?” i asked.

“Y/n? I got the address.” She said, and i fumbled around for a paper and pen. 

“Okay, I’m ready.” i said, setting the phone between my ear and shoulder. I jotted down the address on a scrap piece of paper. 

“You have to hurry though, he’s getting real angry.” she muttered.

“Okay, hun. I’m on my way. What’s his name?” 

“Chris. Chris Jennings.” She hung up abruptly.

Stuffing my phone and the piece of paper into my front pocket, i ran back down the stairs and through the hallways, stopping at Tom’s office. I carefully put my ear against the mahogany doors, straining myself to hear anything. When i couldn’t hear a thing, i gently opened the doors, revealing an empty office. 

Tom kept my knives in a safe in his desk, to use for last minute interrogations. I wasn’t sure which one though, so i opened each of them until i came across the small safe. Typing in the password, the safe opened with a beep, and i took out the knives i hadn’t touched in years. Adrenaline ran through my body, the cool metal familiar against my skin. The knives fit perfectly into my hands, almost as if i never put them away. 

“Hello, old friend.” i muttered, shutting the drawer. When i had knives hidden in my socks, my belt, and strapped to my thigh, i took a deep breath behind the front door. 

“Don’t be a pussy.” i said, before i opened the doors, and made my way to the car. 

Twenty minutes later, i was right outside of west London, where i had spent many nights on the streets as a teenager. I pulled onto the driveway of a questionable trailer in a questionable neighborhood; but i was used to questionable. I opened the car door, and was met with the scent of weed heavy in the air. I walked up the pathway, and looked over my shoulder as i stopped in front of the door. My fingers fumbled around, something i did when i was nervous. I knocked on the door three times, and waited for thirteen seconds before the door was opened.

The big man in front of me wore a dirty tank, and had tattoos covering his skin. He had a beer in his left hand, and he was leaning against the threshold with his right. 

“What?” he asked, taking a deep swig of his beer. I scanned the room behind him, and he seemed to be alone, at least in the living room. Time to get into character.

“I’m sorry,” i giggled, a smile upon my face. “I just really need to use the bathroom. Do you mind if I used yours?” i asked, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. The man licked his lips and took a nice and long gaze over my entire body before stepping aside. 

“Not at all, my dear.” his deep voice grumbled, making my skin crawl. I stepped inside the room, and glanced around, taking in my surroundings. 

“Bathroom’s on the right.” he said, pointing down the hallway. 

“I’m sorry, your Chris Jennings, right?” i asked, my voice still light and airy. 

“Yes I am.” he replied, looking me over again, a deep smile playing on his alcohol soaked lips. 

“That’s good! I’m so glad i came to you, ‘cause, maybe you could...help me out?” i said, running my hand seductively down my shirt. He watched, his eyes mentally undressing me, as i ran my hand down my leg, making sure to touch certain places. My hands stopped right over the strap on my thigh, where the knives were stuck behind my thigh to the piece of material. I grinned at him, right before swiftly reaching behind my thigh to grab one of the knives. 

Before he could react, i flung it at him, and it lodged itself into his shoulder. 

“Ah!” he yelped, blood running down his arm. 

“Fucking bitch!” he screamed, and ran at me, his arms held out as if he were trying to catch me. I dodged out of the way, and he collided with a table next to the wall, sending ceramic bowls flying to the carpeted floor. Out of the corner of my eye, i saw a door swing closed somewhere down the hall. 

I reached for another knife, right as Chris pulled out the one from his shoulder. 

“The fuck do you think you are? Coming into my house and disrespecting me.” He seethed, blood sill trickling down his shoulder. 

“I heard you assault children. I’m only doing you a favor. They tear you alive for that in prison.” i hissed, and braced myself for him to come at me again. He was inches away from me before i sank the second knife into his abdomen, but i guess he was too thick to crumble down. He howled in pain again, and while he was busy throwing his head back, i ripped the first knife out of his hands and stomped down on his knee. 

A sickening crack filled the room, and this time he fell. He was on his good knee, a wound in his shoulder and in his stomach, and a broken knee. I had him right where i needed him, and i smiled, thinking to myself, ‘I still got it’. My phone rang, and with a huff, i took it out of my pocket. The caller ID told me it was Tom, and i answered quickly. 

“Hello?” i asked, and Chris stood up again, his face red and the knife that was in his stomach in his hand. I scolded myself, because i knew better than to leave a weapon in a person; they could and would use it against me. Maybe i didn’t have it, after all. 

“Hi love,” Tom’s voice chirped through the phone as i jumped backwards, dodging the knife. Our grunts filled the air as Tom continue talking. “I’m sorry that i didn’t get your text sooner, Carmichael did something shitty again, and i had to deal with that...what-what’s going on back there?” he asked, as a TV dinner table was knocked over. 

I ripped another knife off my belt, and did a somersault off to the side, and when Chris ran to the place i stood mere seconds ago, i stabbed him in his side. His screams filled the air, and filled Tom’s ear. 

“Goddammit!” Chris screamed, and he grabbed a hold of my foot, causing me to scream along with him. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?! Step on it!” Tom said, his voice full of concern and hardness, as if he was all ready planning out someones death, and if i knew Tom, he was. I could tell he was talking to the driver of the car, and i realized he thought i was at home. Chris pulled me towards him, and i dropped the phone. 

“Gah!” i screamed, as i felt the knife i hid in my socks slit my skin. With my other foot, i began kicking Chris repeatedly in the face, trying to loosen his hold on me. He didn’t budge, but after a few blows to the face, he released his grip. I pulled myself away from him, and reached into my high top converse to grab the knife, the tip already sunken into my foot. Tears began to swim in my eyes as i yanked it out, and kicked Chris’s face one more time, this time aiming for his temple. 

“Tom! 2407 East Parkway 22134!” i yelped into the phone, hoping he understood. I didn’t get the chance to hear his response, or at least end the call, because i was back on my feet. I twirled two knives between my fingers, and i could practically see red. 

“You are highly annoying.” i said to the man beneath me, who had a bloody and bruised face. He seemed as if he was hanging onto consciousness, but i knew better than to trust that. He was bleeding everywhere, and i was surprised that he fought for that long. I stabbed him one more time in his back, right on his spine, and from the lack of movement and noise, i figured he was dead. 

My foot throbbed, and i was beginning to get a headache. Blood soaked my sock, and i walked with a limp, but i had to find Avery. 

“Avery?” i called out, my voice cracking a bit. I limped over to the hallway, and saw the door that had closed ten minutes ago. I heard voices now, and they were getting louder as i walked closer. 

“You called the police?! You idiot girl! Do you know what they’ll do to us now? They’ll put you in a foster home, and they’ll beat you! I’ll get sent to prison, do you want that? You don’t love your own mother! God, your always so over dramatic! You’ve been nothing but a curse on my life!” I opened the door just as the woman struck Avery on the cheek. 

“Hey!” i yelled, and i was at the mother in seconds. Grabbing her wrist and slinging it behind her back, i pushed her up against the wall, shoving her face into the stucco. 

“You don’t touch her.” i seethed, then my eyes landed on Avery. Her tear stained cheeks were red, and the left side was worse because of the slap. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, and she looked sweaty. Her breathes were coming out ragged as she sobbed, and my heart broke for this little girl i barely knew.

“Come here.” i said, letting go of her mother and taking the girl in my arms. She collided with me hard, her arms hugging me tightly around the middle. I ran my hands through her hair, and pulled the strands loose from her face. 

“You’re alright now.” i said gently. I heard a shriek from the living room, and a few seconds later a picture frame slammed against my head. 

Avery screamed as the shards flew everywhere, cutting the both of us up. I let go of the small girl and grabbed her mothers shoulders. 

“That was for my husband you bitch!” I didn’t want to harm Avery’s mother right in front of her, but something needed to give. No none hurt me and got away with it. I slammed her backwards against the wall again, and held her there at the throat with my arm. I felt the steady trickle of blood run down my head; the glass from the picture frame no doubt cut me up badly.

“That was your last mistake.” i said, then leaned in to whisper against her ear. 

“I do not want to hurt you in front of your little girl. But i swear, if you try anything one more time, i’ll take one of those knives i used on your husband, and with just one jab you won’t be breathing either. Don’t think i won’t just because your a woman. Because from what i saw, your just as bad as he was.” i whispered dangerously. She didn’t say anything as i met her eyes, and carefully let go of her. She ran out of the room, probably to grieve over her dead beat husband, instead of comforting her daughter. I turned back to look at the girl.

She had blood running down her cheek from the glass, and she was hugging herself tightly. 

I didn’t say anything as i took Avery into my arms again, crouching down so that we were at eye level.

“Are you alright, babe?” i asked gently, wiping away her tears and blood. She sobbed in response, and i knew i had to get her out of that house as soon as possible. How much could a seven year old take in just a day?

“I don’t wanna live here!” she sobbed, her voice hoarse and broken.

“It’s gonna be alright. I’ll take care-”

“Ahhh!” Avery screamed, pointing behind me as more tears cascaded down her cheeks. Chris stood there, blood oozing out of him in so many different places. His face was all beat up, and yet somehow he was still alive. I pushed the young girl behind me and pulled two knives out of my belt.

“Ave, look away!” i cried as i flung one of the knives at his chest. Just as the knife pierced through his skin, a bullet was fired. I dropped to the ground, covering Avery, thinking that Chris fired on us. But when i opened my eyes, the man fell to the floor with a bullet embedded into his skull. Tom stood behind him, a gun pointed at the spot Chris stood in just seconds ago.

“Tom!” i cried, and he scooped me into his arms. I could feel his heart beating rapidly against my chest. I wanted to do nothing else besides stay in his arms and cry. Cry about the fact that i was scared, even though i pretended i wasn’t. Cry about how badly my foot was hurting, but most of all, i wanted to cry because Avery didn’t have a father, or a suitable mother. 

“Thank God,” he mumbled, and kissed the top of my head. He pulled away and took my face in his hands. His eyes held so much concern and anger, it was hard to tell which emotion he felt the most. I glanced at the door to see Harrison watching us with a sad smile.

“I was so worried. I thought someone from another mob kidnapped you, I-. I don’t know what i would have done if you died.” he said, his voice cracking. It was one of the times he allowed himself to be this vulnerable; an emotion he saved for me and only me. 

“I’m sorry.” i choked out.

“What the hell happened?” 

“I got a call.” i said, my voice barely above a whisper. 

“I thought you didn’t do that type of stuff anymore.” He replied, his face showing just how confused he was. 

“I don’t,” i said, and wrapped my arm around Avery, who was still beside me. “But her step father was abusing her.” The little girl looked up at Tom with fear in her eyes. Tom looked at her with compassion in his. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Tom said, wrapping his arm around me and taking Avery’s hand. As we stood up. Tom shielded the girls face with his hand, not letting her see her dead step father. Harrison was leaning over the dead body and assessing the damage. 

“You did a hell of a job, Y/n.” The blonde said, giving me a gentle smile, to which i returned. We stepped outside into the cool night air, where Tom’s car was parked right on the street, as if Tom leaped out of the car before Harrison could park it. Avery’s mother was waiting outside, and she timidly let go of Tom’s hand and stepped towards her. I had a strong feeling to pull her back; to shield her from the woman who cared so little about her. Tom held me back, whispering, 

“Let her go, love. We’ll be right here.” He stepped in front of me, and took my hands in his.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.” i said, letting the tears fall down my cheeks. 

“Don’t be sorry, my love. I’m so proud of you, you know? You saved that little girl, and you did a damn well good job of doing it.”

“No I didn’t! I fucked up, i thought he was dead when he wasn’t. I could have gotten us both killed.”

“No, don’t say that. You slipped up a bit, yes, but you had him dead. He was dead before i shot him, because you threw the knife first. But that doesn’t even matter. You gave him a run for his money; you handled yourself so well, of course, i knew you would. You’ve always been my bad ass girl.” he said, stroking my cheek gently. I sniffled, and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck.

“I love you, so much. You’re my everything.” he said, pulling back just enough to kiss me. He tasted like heaven, and he poured so much into that kiss, more than words could say. His hands held me tightly around my back, and my hands were tangled up in his hair. I broke away, and stared at him, wondering how on earth i managed to find the most amazing man out there. 

My eyes flickered back to Avery, who’s mother was walking away, down the street. The girl watched as her mother, the person who was supposed to love her more than anyone else, walked away from her. 

“I want her, Tommy.” i said, taking his hand in mine. He stared at the girl, and we watched as she turned back to us, tears running down her cheeks. I stepped foreword and held out my arms, crouching down as she ran into me. I held her as she cried, and i didn’t even try to console her, i just needed to be there for her.

“That can be arranged.” Tom said, as he bent down and hugged the two girls, one who already ruled his life, and the other who was just about to. 

#tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shots #MCU #mob!tom #mob!tom imagines #mob!tom one shots #mob!tom x reader #tom holland #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shots #peter parker imagines #fanfic

[newyorkroleplay-archive]

CATHAL ACOSTA --

Birthdate: April 10th, 1988 ( 30 ) Gender and Pronouns: Male, he/him Hometown: Houston, Texas Neighborhood: Upper West Side, Manhattan Occupation: Heir, Businessman and Owner Faceclaim: Alex Pettyfer Trigger Warnings: None.

BIOGRAPHY --

Born and raised in Houston, Cathal had more in his bank account than most of the world’s population before he could walk and talk. He was the heir to an American dynasty, to American oil, and to a line of some of the greatest businessmen in the world. His great grandfather staked his claim in southeast Texas with much of the land he owned having reserves of oil, the Acosta family became instantly rich with the Texas oil boom. With the Texas boom being considered the start of the Oil Age in the entire world, fortunes only grew over the years and the Acostas were considered American royalty due to their massive wealth. Everyone in Texas and most of the South knew the family name and the notable men that carried and expanded the oil business into other ventures as well. As a youngin’, Cathal rarely fit in, he couldn’t sit still and he was constantly into any and everything he shouldn’t have been.  He was quite a lot for his young debutant mother to keep up with, especially since she had been spoiled with her first child, Cathal’s older brother, being so quiet and well behaved. His attention span was limited and he wasn’t interested in anything his father and grandfather were doing or trying to teach him, he was the opposite of his brother. Cathal wanted fun and adventure, he may have been small but he did his best to keep up with the boys his age. He made friends easily, partly due to status but mostly because of his friendly and outgoing personality.

School wasn’t a breeze for Cathal, not for lack of intelligence but for lack of wanting to be there. He couldn’t sit and listen to lectures or focus long enough on assignments, his mind was always off in far off places. He’d seen most of the world by the time he could legally drive a car but he was a daydreamer and not at all interested in politics or big business. This created problems at home, his brother was the model child his father and grandfather dreamed of and they praised him often. Whereas Cathal, was scolded often and told to be more like his brother, to do better in school and to stop getting into pointless trouble. He was always testing himself, purely to see if he could do it, whatever it was. Cathal would steal things and then later return them or pay for them and he was always a sweetheart about it, no one ever even complained, mostly figured the kid was bored. When he turned eighteen, Cathal finally had access to the billions in his bank accounts. The money had been sitting and growing over the years and the freshly graduated from high school teenager made his way out to California. His grades didn’t quite get him into Stanford, the big time Ivy League university in the northern part of the state, but a phone call from his father did. He did well enough to pass his classes but his focus, yet again, was never really on academics. Cathal had no desire to be the next generation to continue the Acosta fortunes, his brother was perfect for that.

Always a strong interest in all things automotive, especially whatever went fast, Cathal got involved in street racing. It was easy for the young man to afford the cars and it didn’t take him long to become quite good at race driving. Winning the money meant nothing to him, it was all about the thrill and fun for Cathal, and he often gave the cash away or donated it anonymously to local shelters or struggling small business owners. After graduation from Stanford, Cathal made what was to be a temporary move to New York City, there was a job waiting for him at his grandfather’s company. In the late eighties his grandfather purchased the New York Giants football team and was the active CEO, causing him to split his time between Texas and New York during the on and off seasons through the years. It wasn’t the business Cathal immediately stepped into when arriving, instead focusing on the investment company acting as a broker. Clearly, he wasn’t in need of working or a steady job with income, it was all about experience in the business world and with maturity came a respect for responsibility and Cathal began to actually enjoy the things his father and grandfather tried to groom him for so early in his life. Looking back of course he wouldn’t have changed a thing. Most of his time was spent working on expansion of the company, and when a major hardship hit the close-knit Acostas, they all branched out and took over where needed.  

Three years ago his grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and chose to step down on all business ventures and companies, figuring it was wisest to retire completely before the disease hit too hard. Cathal took over the investment company completely as well as the New York Giants from his grandfather. He’s doing his best to juggle it all but has been finding the lack of social life a problem; once a guy that was all about the nightlife was rarely seen out anymore but in part, some of that was due to Cathal becoming even wealthier. In the timing of his playboy lifestyle, as the media called it, slowing down Cathal met a woman by the name of Giovanna Duffy when she came into the Giants offices to interview for a job. The romance went fast but he had fallen in love for the first time in his life and he was serious about settling down with her. Life had other plans and threw a wrench into his happiness, losing his grandfather and mentor set Cathal on a lonesome path for a while as he tried to mourn and accept the loss. Throughout his life, he always stayed protective of his identity, being someone literally made of money, it was extremely hard to trust anyone. No one knows him, other than family and a few closest friends all that well beyond what’s been publicized about him over the years and the general stories about the Acosta family legacy.

PERSONALITY --

( + ) adventerous, daring, generous. ( - ) deceitful, wayward, zany.

#all #male #alex pettyfer #cathal acosta #manhattan