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holly-the-trash-writer · 1 year

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Runaway Fiancé Part 1

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summary: You find out about J.J's love confession to Spencer, one month before your wedding. Why didn't Spencer tell you? Does he love her too? Can you get past this or will J.J come between you?

Word Count: 2,295

A/N: This was another work with an OC character but I really wanted to do it again with Reader. Also. I'm sorry. But J.J sucks. (I'll be honest I've never seen this episode because I refuse but like... bitch, you better be joking)

Yours and Spencer’s wedding day was coming up fast.

The happiest day of your lives was only a month away.

That’s when J.J and Spencer got caught up in a life-threatening situation and flipped everything on its head.

You could tell that something changed with Spencer after the ordeal.

He pulled away from you almost completely, he barely listened to any of your wedding plans and yous hadn’t spoken properly in two days.

Now, being held at gun point isn’t something you can just walk away from, everyone on the team knows that but that’s not what’s wrong here.

There was something else. You were sure of it.

And it all decided to come to blows on Rossi’s wedding night.

Spencer wasn’t himself. He isn’t spinning you around on the dancefloor like he usually did or doing magic with Henry or even laughing with the team.

Instead, the love of your life was sitting at the table alone, drinking and thinking.

You watched him stare into space and decided to ask Penelope about it. She would know if something was going on.

You made your way over to the dancefloor where Luke was spinning Penelope around.

You felt bad to interrupt them, but you needed to know if Penelope knew anything.

Narrowly avoiding their waving hands, you tapped Penelope on the shoulder, “I’m so sorry to interrupt but can I talk to you for a minute, P?”

Penelope grinned and linked arms with you, “Of course!” before they walked off, she waved her finger seriously at Luke, “Do not move.” to which Luke only laughed.

You led her over to the corner and subtly gestured to Spencer who was sitting with his back to you, “Has he said anything to you about the other day?”

Penelope thought for a moment before shaking her head, “No, honey, why do you ask?”

“He’s barely spoken to me, danced or even talked to Henry. He’s been sitting there drinking quietly almost all night and I’m worried that whatever happened in that shop really got to him.”

Penelope looked over sadly, “He hasn’t said anything to me. But I’m sure he’s alright, just a bit shaken up. He just needs some of your good lovin and he will be our regular boy wonder again.” She nudged you knowingly, “And it’s probably this reception is making him think of his own big day in a few weeks.”

“Yeah.” You smiled at the thought of your wedding being so close, “You’re probably right. I’m feeling it myself. This will be me soon.”

Penelope grinned and gave her a hug, “And it will be perfect. I’ll make sure of it.”

You giggled and gave her a big hug, “Thanks, P.”

With Penelope’s words fresh in your brain, you decided to just make Spencer feel as loved and cared for as possible, letting him know you were here when he felt ready to come to you. You grabbed two fresh drinks from the bar and made your way over to the table Spencer was sitting at.

You slowed down and couldn’t stop the small frown appearing on your face when you noticed that J.J was now sitting beside him and the two were talking quietly.

When you had found out that Spencer used to have a crush on J.J it really twisted your view of her. Not that it was her fault of course. But since they were such good friends, you just couldn’t help the insecurity that bubbled within you when they spent time together. Not that you’d ever say anything to anyone about it.

Taking a deep breath, you shook off any of the negative feelings. You were just going to walk up and join them; you didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“What I said… I said to throw the unsub off. Nothing more.” J.J’s voice wavered.

Spencer sighed, “Truth or dare?”

J.J turned to him, her eyes were shining with tears, “Truth.”

“Did you mean it?” Spencer turned his head to look at her as well, “Do you love me?”

Your blood ran cold.

Your heart thundered in your chest as the fog cleared and you now understood why Spencer had been acting so distant all day.

J.J told Spencer she loved him.

Your fiancé.

Your brain began to shut down and go ninety miles per hour all at the same time. You couldn’t process what just happened.

Spencer nodded, the look on J.J’s face told him more than words ever could. He pushed his chair back and moved to turn away from the table which, unfortunately for you, meant that he was now frozen in place and staring right at you. J.J noticed Spencer freeze and turned in the seat also stiffening when she saw you there.

You were just standing there like an idiot with a glass in each hand.

“Y/n?" Spencer called softly.

Your eyes darted between the two, before your flight response kicked in and you placed the two drinks quickly on the table, blurting out an, “Excuse me.” and rushing away from the table.

You were not going to make a scene on Rossi's wedding day. Absolutely not.

“Wait!” Spencer rushed after you before you made it outside and grabbed your wrist, “Y/n, please, this isn’t-”

J.J had also followed the couple and interrupted Spencer, “Y/n it isn’t what you think.”

“I really don’t want to hear anything from you right now. Okay?” You kept your voice low, “Your husband is looking for you.”

J.J nodded, knowing she was not wanted here and quickly vacated the area before it got worse.

You were so furious as you turned on your heel and walked away, forcing a smile to anyone you passed before finally making it outside.

You knew Spencer was following you, so you walked around the house until you were far enough away from everyone else.

You rounded on him immediately, “What is going on? And I’m not stupid Spencer so don’t even think of lying to me or try to run me in circles.” It was freezing outside but you couldn’t feel it as the anger inside you was keeping you warm.

Spencer just stared at you with wide eyes.

“Spencer Reid, so help me. I’m not angry often but you’ve seen it and I am two seconds away from combustion. Now, I don’t like jumping to conclusions, but this situation isn’t looking good, for either of you.”

“We are not sleeping together. I would never do that to you.” Spencer rushed out quickly, he knows where your mind was headed and he needed to get the truth out as fast as possible, “When, uh, when we were tied up, he ordered J.J to tell a secret she’s been too afraid to say, or he was going to shoot her. So, she- she told me that she has always loved me.”

She told me that she has always loved me.

You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh, cry or scream at this point.

This entire situation was ridiculous!

J.J has always loved him? Since when?! Where? In which universe? Because it certainly wasn’t this one.

You couldn’t wrap your head around this.

So, you inhaled and said the only thing you could, “And you?”

“And me what?” he frowned at you in confusion.

“Do you love her, Spencer?” You knew that there was a history there, years ago. He asked her on a date which J.J then brought Penelope to, and nothing ever came out of it. You thought it was over.

But apparently having kids and marrying another man still doesn’t mean you don’t love someone else!

Spencer was silent for a moment and then he took a step towards you, “I love you, Y/n.”

You could feel the tears welling up as Spencer deflected, “That’s not what I asked, Spencer.”

Spencer walked towards you, but you stepped back with each step he took, “Y/n...” he pleaded.

You couldn’t do this. You can’t process all this information.

You waved your hands at him, pleading him to stay back, “I need to think about this.” You rushed past him as fast as your heels would carry you. Making your way back inside and over to the table, grabbing your bag and shawl from the chair as quickly and as quietly as possible.

You could feel the tears threatening to spill over. You kept breathing deeply to try and keep them at bay until you were out of here.

You took one last glance around, watching the team all laughing, dancing and chatting happily, completely unaware of the breakdown that was crashing over you. You spotted J.J across the room dancing happily with Will.

Anger boiled inside you and turned and left the room before you trailed her by her hair.

You haven’t felt this petty since high school but that’s what you wanted to do.

You sniffed and rustled through your bag to find your phone and calling a cab company. Looking around you decided to hide behind the large tree in Rossi’s front garden and wait. Praying that no one saw you.

“Y/n?”

You cursed heavily and stepped back into the light and watched Emily making her way towards you.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” she smiled.

You forced a smile back and clutched your shawl tighter around your shoulders, “I’m leaving.”

“What? Leaving?” Emily’s jaw was on the floor in shock. “Why?”

“I can’t be here. I need to leave, and I need to go right now. I don’t want to ruin Rossi’s big day.”

“Okay, woah.” Emily stepped closer and raised your hands to stop you, “Slow down and take a deep breath.”

You nodded and followed your boss’s instructions.

“Now, what’s going on?”

You didn’t even really know what was going on yourself. One second you were excited for your wedding and the next your fiancé was held at gun point and his old crush-slash-best friend told him she has always loved him and there was a possibility that he also loved her too.

Huh, maybe you could explain what was going on.

You opened your mouth to explain but the beeping of the taxi behind you stopped you and you sighed in relief, “I’ll explain later but, please, don’t say to anyone, not even Spencer. I’ll text you. I will.” She talked as she opened the door of the cab and slid in and gave the driver her address.

“Y/n!”

You heard someone yell after you as the taxi began driving away, turning around to look out the back window you saw Spencer panting and standing in the garden beside Emily, looking as though he had just run around the building to find you.

Your eyes locked and neither of you broke it until the driver was outside the property and your fiancé was no longer in sight.

---

Spencer had gotten the next cab as quickly as he could. Ignoring all of Emily’s questions as he began calling and calling and calling you. He told the driver to go to his apartment, hoping you would be there, but it was empty.

He sprinted back down to the cab driver to give him your address.

He threw the money at the driver; more than the fare even cost as he got out of the cab and glad of his long legs as he took the stairs two at a time until he made it to your door; he couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes behind you.

“Y/n!?” he yelled as he searched all the rooms, “Baby, please.” He ran into your bedroom and saw the closet open, and a few clothes were taken. He looked under your bed and saw your go bag missing, “No, no, no, no.”

He felt the tears forming in his eyes as he stumbled back into main area. Beginning to hyperventilate and glancing around the room until his eyes fell on an envelope.

An envelope with his name on it.

Empty apartments and letters with names on them are never good.

This just reminds him of when Gideon left him, and everyone knew how much that devastated him.

He ran his hands through his hair and down his face before walking over to the counter and picking up the letter.

He let out a sigh of relief as the envelope wasn’t weighted which meant that meant her engagement ring wasn’t in it which filled Spencer with a little hope.

He ripped open the envelope and read over the letter five times before the words sank in.

Spence,

My love, I’m sorry I left without telling you why in person. I know what that did to you when Gideon left, but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it at Rossi’s wedding.

I needed to get away from the situation.

I don’t know how to process this and being around J.J will only make it worse.

So, I’m going away for a few days. I need to think this through, and I hope you do as well.

You are the greatest thing in my life, and I hope that you never doubt that.

You may say you didn’t, but you hesitated when I asked you if you love her and then you didn’t say yes or no.

I can’t marry someone who is in love with someone else and I’m sure you can’t either.

Please think about what and who you want to be with.

Please, don’t try to find me. I’m safe and I’m checking in with Emily.

I’ll see you soon and I love you so much,

Y/n x

Spencer fell to his knees when he finished reading the letter.

You were gone, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to get you back.

#spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds

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f10werfae · 1 year

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Kissies and Waxed

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry Cavill x Short!Shy!Wife!Reader

summary: Y/n gets all shy and adorable with her grumpy husband on their wedding night, letting him enjoy his waxed present(Dom Henry) (requested by anon)

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Come on sugar, no need to be shy, m’your husband now. Seen your pretty pussy a handful a’times” Henry grumbled tugging on the laced back of his wife’s wedding gown, his lips dragging themselves down her neck and exposed shoulders. His larger hands coming round to subtly cup her breasts, giving them a light squeeze and jiggle.

“D-do I havta get butt naked?” She cutely whispered out, wrapping her arms around her smaller stature, her french tip nails highlighting their elegance. Having dated for a few months then eloping, Henry had definitively manoeuvred his way into her sweet tight pussy repeatedly; but for some reason tonight she was feeling shyer than normal.

“I mean i’d love to see ya, but it’s up to you” Henry chuckled, already pulling down the top of her dress, even with his words. “But you can trust me honey, don’t you trust me? love me?” Henry frowned furrowing his brows, making eye contact with her wide eyes through the mirror, the poor woman not noticing his manipulative tone.

“W-what! Of course I do! I promise I do Hen! Please forgive me” Y/n whimpered turning around in his arms, instantly feeling at ease when his burly arms wrapped around her short frame, his head resting atop hers. “I know you do sweet pea, I know” He whispered kissing the top of her head, he thought she was absolutely adorable and sexy at the same time, God he loves her so much; even if he shows it a different way than most..

“Can I take this off you sweets?”

Nodding into his chest, his fingers skilfully removed all the lace, his fingers tracing down her bare back and noticing that she was wearing nothing under the heavy gown. “No underwear? How naughty of you baby” Henry smirked softly smacking her ass softly, rubbing it with his palm afterwards.

“S’too warm n’ was too sensitive” Y/n whimpered rubbing her thighs together desperately, her face tucked away from him. “Sensitive? Why?” Henry asked confused, he hasn’t seen her since two days before the wedding for tradition, unless she had played with herself like she wasn’t supposed to.

“S-Stephanie brought me to get my private parts w-waxed” She whispered not knowing how he’d react, looking at the gown which had now pooled around her freshly painted toes, hearing nothing but his breaths starting to deepen. “So my pussy, is bald?”

Letting out a giggle at his stupid words Y/n stepped back a bit, doubling over in a giggle fit as he simply chuckled and smiled back. “What? Im serious, let me see my bald pussy” He smirked stepping forward, his eyes travelling down to see the bush that was usually on her mound, was now fully gone; instead showing off her soft smooth looking skin.

“Jesus baby, did ya do it for me?” His finger came under her chin so their eyes could meet, his lips coming closer to press a small kiss to her chin. Her hands holding on tightly to the waistband of his briefs, her lip held tightly beneath her teeth. “Yeah, wanted to be pretty for you!” She said naively smiling up at him, showing off all her beautiful pearly whites as she batted her lashes at him.

“So sweet, but you’re already so sweet n gorgeous sugar, s’just an extra present for me huh” He nuzzled his cheek against hers as he slowly walked her backwards towards their now shared marital bed, filled with new cotton sheets and velvet blankets to keep them warm during this harsh winter.

“R-really ya think so?” She whispered as he crawled on top of her, gasping as he left kisses all over her neck and chest, his lips tugging and licking at her pebbled nipples. “Oh baby trust me, I know so” He growled moving downwards to come face to face with her wet centre.

An excited smile coming onto his face as he nuzzled his face into her smooth pussy, lightly kissing its lips almost as if it was her mouth.

“s’smooth honey, still miss my woman’s bush though” He smirked keeping each hand on her breasts, his nose nudging against her engorged clit teasingly, breathing in her vanilla scent. “ill keep that in mind for next time b-bear” She whispered nodding her head seriously, Henry loved how his wife would do absolutely anything just to keep him happy, and he’d make sure she was looked after.

“Course you will sugar” Henry said more to himself, dipping his tongue in between her sticky folds, humming as he tasted her sweet self on his tongue. Not even giving her a second to adjust before his mouth is ravaging her centre like crazy, causing her upper body to sit up, her thighs clamping onto his head to keep his mouth on her. “T-too quick, oh-oh my” She whimpered out meeting Henry’s icy blue eyes, noticing the darkened lusty look in them, telling her he was nowhere near done tonight. He spat right onto her mound, making it shiny and slippery with his tongue before delving back into her hole again

Feeling her hole clench around his thick tongue, he pulled it out, giving her pussy one last tongue kiss before crawling over her; a smirk on his face as he watched her whimper and whine out. “Gotta love on my favourite pair of lips” He whispered against her lips, kissing it softly, the wetness on his lips transferring onto hers and letting her taste herself.

His tip was already prodding at her wet hole, his body knowing hers like the back of his hand. Remembering all the times he had taken her in the back of his truck, during a picnic, at the drive-in cinema and of course right on their front porch.

“A-ah” Y/n moaned out feeling Henry slowly start to inch into her extra sensitive pussy, his rough pubes scratching onto her newly waxed skin. “So sexy baby, my sweet wifey” He moaned bottoming out inside her, his heavy sac smacking against her rear softly. Wrapping her hands around each bicep Y/n felt hot tears build up in her eyes, Henry’s nestle of curls had rubbed against her clit, his balls had slapped her pussy and his fingers were toying with her nubs.

“F-feel you everywhere, I love it” She gasped out hanging her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as her mouth sat agape. The tip of her tongue found itself being sucked by Henry, his mouth needing to taste her even more, he was addicted to her. That’s why he needed her, just as much as she needed him.

“Now that you’re my wife, gonna make sure you’re full of me every single day sugar, ya like that? Have ya walkin’ around our cabin drippin like a broken faucet” He growled letting go of her tongue, his mouth directly whispering the filthy things into her ear, in turn her moans were echoing in his. Her nails scraping against his back while his hips smacked into hers, her pussy being slapped continuously simultaneously.

“Fuck your pussy is going to make me cum sugar, your sweet honey pussy is going to make your husband cum” He said almost whimpering, his thrusts growing erratic and rough as he clawed at the sheets by her head, her own voice sore and hoarse as she squirted all over his messy cock.

“S-squirted?-“ Y/n looked down shocked, an embarrassed look on her face,

“Maybe this bald thing is the way to go then huh?” Henry teased before thrusting one more time, his hips still slightly grinding against her poor clit as his cum spurted in waves inside her cavern. Both of them breathing out tiredly, Y/n peppering Henry’s face with kisses, muttering out small words of ‘i love you’ ‘you deserve some kissies’ ‘my husband’

“Aw baby lemme give you a kissy since you love ‘em so much” He smiled rubbing his lips against hers, his fingers cupping her jaw enough for her mouth to pucker open, his tongue licking into it lewdly before spitting into it. A smiley look on Y/n’s face as she hugged him to her chest, giggling and squeezing him tightly, a sense of love overfilling her. Only letting go once she realised that Henry had actually fallen asleep, her big hibernating bear

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @tinyelfperson @athena-roy @fdl305 @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @princess-paramour @mansaaay @girl-of-multi-fandoms @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @sparklemarysunshine @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @aerangi @lastwandastan @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @diyabhanushali1 @spencerreidat4am @keiva1000 @acornacre @ninasw0rld @ggmimitf @teti-menchon0604 @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @grxnde-dwt @kzhlvlysstuff @thoughtsofreid @cilliansangel @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @luvabellee @elenavampire21 @imahallucinationnn @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @kimm4710 @esposadomd @kaydesssssssss @morenoc @HcavsCevans

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x shy!reader #lumberjack!henry cavill #henry cavill x you

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celandeline · 3 months

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Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (17)

I am so incredibly glad that Elspeth put my seat next to Venetia, otherwise I would be completely lost at this dinner. The people I know are vastly outnumbered by the people I don’t, and I feel for Felix, who looks so bored stranded between two men (who I can assume are both named Henry).

“And what’s your name?” The man to my right is already red in the face, and we’re only on the second course of the meal.

“Evelyn.” I say, shifting slightly in my seat to face him.

“Henry.” He says, extending his hand to shake. His palms are sweaty, and I try not to cringe at the way he leaves a film on my hand.

“I figured.” I say, wiping my palm on the skirt of my dress.

He laughs, even though I didn’t really mean it to be all that funny - but drunk people make the best crowd. “I’ve not seen you about before.” He says. “Or maybe I have -” He chuckles. “Parties here do tend to get rather crowded.”

“This is my first time.” I say. “Venetia brought me home for the summer.”

His eyebrows quirk up. “How are you liking it?”

“It’s great.” I say, turning to my plate to spoon a bite of dinner into my mouth. “The house is beautiful.”

“Oh, yes.” He says. “I remember the first time I saw this house - of course, I was very young, then - but I still remember that grandeur feeling. And the people - James’s mother and father were such lovely people.”

“I’m sure.” I say, trading my spoon for my wine glass. It’s white wine tonight, and it goes down easier than the red.

He stops himself to drain his own wineglass. “Really such lovely people, the Cattons.”

“Mm.” My eyes drift along the table until they reach the end, where Elspeth and Farleigh are sat around a corner. Even though Elspeth is talking to him, Farleigh’s eyes are on me as he takes a long draught from his glass. He tilts his head as he sets his cup down, and smirks.

“Truly, it’s a sort of fantasy, being here…”

Mostly prattling to himself at this point, I turn away from Henry and back towards Venetia. Her back is to me though, talking to Oliver.

“No thanks.” Venetia says, sighing. “It’s just so disappointing. You're just another one of his toys.”

“You're upset.” Oliver doesn’t sound sympathetic at all.

“No! Don't worry! I'm used to it, honestly.” She says it so flippantly my heart breaks a little. “He never liked sharing his toys. Even the ones he doesn’t want to play with anymore.” She turns away from him, to face me with a sad sort of smile.

“Venetia…” Oliver hisses. “Venetia…”

She pays him no mind. “Hi Evie.”

I smile. “Hi baby.”

She drops her voice, and picks up her wineglass. “He’s such a bore, my god.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder towards Oliver. “As soon as Felix says no, that’s it. Done.” She glances across the table. “Felix hasn’t spoken to me since yesterday morning.”

“He’ll come around.” I say. “You’re his sister.”

“I know.” She sighs. “Still - there goes my summer entertainment.”

I roll my eyes. I don’t believe for a second that she’s going to stop batting her eyelashes at him. She’ll take a break, sure, but she couldn’t even come up with a word to describe the way he gave her head - she’s going to at least try again.

“What about you?” She says. “What about last night?”

“What about last night?” I say.

“Farleigh was on your bed.”

“To gossip.” I say.

“To gossip,” She mocks, rolling her eyes. “Without me? Alone, in your room, when you’d just gotten out of the shower? Gossip.”

“Yes, gossip.” I say. “You know about his weird hate-boner for Oliver.”

“I know about his boner-boner for you.” Venetia says. Her eyes skip away from mine, past me, to where Farleigh is sitting.

“We almost kissed.” I say, hushed. “I think. I don’t know.”

She bites her lip as she grins. “Go on.” Sure, Oliver might be too scared to keep their summer romance going, but that doesn’t mean she can’t doubly invest herself in mine to keep herself entertained.

“We almost kissed that night on the roof, too, I think.” I say. “I don’t know, he’s not… most guys would just do it, you know? He keeps just waiting.”

“And you haven’t kissed him because?” She asks.

“I’m kind of enjoying the tension.” I admit, a little sheepishly.

“Me too.” She says, grinning. “It’s like my own soap opera happening in my house, starring people that I already know and love. I’m so glad that I brought you home, Evie, really.”

“So glad that I could make your summer more interesting.” I say, truthfully.

“You’ll have to tell me if he’s a good kisser, when you do end up snogging.” She says. “I’ve always wanted to know who’s the best kisser out of the three of us - everyone says Felix is quite bad, and I think I’m alright, but I don’t know anyone that’s kissed Farleigh to check.”

“If we end up snogging.” I say, mocking her accent.

“Oh, shove off, New Yawk.” She grins. “And if you don’t at least kiss him, I’ll be furious.”

“Well, if you’ll be furious.” I say, taking another draught of my wine.

“Please,” She snorts. “I know you want to.”

“But-”

“And I already know what you’re going to say, ‘what if we kiss and then it’s boring’ - it’s Farleigh. You can say many things about Farleigh, but you can’t say he’s boring.” She gives me a pointed look.

I grin. “You know me so well.”

She smiles back at me. “I do, don’t I?”

I glance back to the end of the table where Farleigh sits. He’s leaned over towards Elspeth, saying something that I can’t make out, but like he can sense my gaze shifting, his eyes meet mine, and he smiles. I return his grin, and take another sip of wine, licking the excess off my lips.

< previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader

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cricketnationrise · 3 months

Note

Hi!! My prompt:

3:47pm

The lake house on Lake LBJ

Oscar Diaz

Song for vibes: My Way DH by Rascal Flatts

Thank you!!! ❤️❤️❤️

ooooo Oscar was fun to write. note to self, must write more Oscar. anyway i listened to My Wish and immediately had 'dad thinking about his kids' vibes so please enjoy just over 600 words of oscar being happy for his children 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here!

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

3:47pm, lake lbj

It’s a special kind of surreal seeing both his kids in love.

Sure, June may not actually be dating Nora, but that’s a when, not an if, judging by the way Nora half-melts when June smiles at her and the special crinkle of June’s eyes when she watches Nora spout off ridiculous statistics. Oscar hasn’t seen that particular crinkle since June was with Evan. His heart swells with happiness for his oldest every time he spots her and Nora lost in each other’s company or trying to drown each other in the lake or communicating solely through raised eyebrows and quirked lips or when Nora hides her watery eyes when June sings Annie’s Song next to the campfire. They’re practically one brain, one soul even, split across two bodies and it’s stunning to witness.

Sure, Alex may not have admitted to himself that he’s in love with Henry, but Oscar would bet the lake house, his Senate seat, and much more besides, that Alex will figure his shit out soon, because he’s never seen his son like this before.

Alex has always moved a million miles an hour, always put a ton of pressure on himself, always pushed himself to juggle a seemingly-impossible load. Oscar has seen the dark circles under his eyes when they video chat, has heard the exhaustion in his voice when Alex visits his Senate office, has noted the middle-of-the-night timestamp on one too many emails to think that Alex is completely fine. Oscar recognizes the signs of stress—both from himself and from when he and Ellen lived together—that have been increasing in frequency over the past year.

But lately, and this week in particular, Alex seems settled in his own skin—he’s practically aglow—and not because of the sunshine. Every time he sets eyes on Henry, or makes him laugh, or even just talks about him, Alex lights up. All through prepping the food earlier, Alex had kept glancing out the window, a fond smile on his face at the sight of Henry out on the dock refereeing the girls. Watching his son and Henry interact, it’s like there’s a whole other level of happiness that’s been unlocked.

Alex’s carefully blank voice when he’d asked if his ‘friend’ Henry could come to the lake house had all of Oscar’s dad instincts sitting up. And his son’s anxious hand wringing when he’d introduced Henry had been enough to tell Oscar that this person was someone special to Alex, even if he’d never indicated he was interested in men before. Their conversation in the kitchen had been an unnecessary, but welcome, confirmation.

All he’s ever wanted for June and Alex is for them to be safe and happy. The Texas sun shining down only highlights how content his kids are—it looks good on them both—and Oscar is beyond grateful he gets to witness it. He’s always wished for them to dream as big as they wanted to, for them to reach out and gather up all the love they can possibly hold inside. He’s always wanted them to have a comfortable place to land, a secure set of arms to fall into if life knocks them down. He’s always wanted them to know they can fly free, knowing someone loves them unconditionally. And sure, he and Ellen and Leo and all their extended family love Alex and June but— It’s immensely satisfying knowing that the universe has answered Oscar’s wish and led both of his children to their people.

He hopes they’re both brave enough to reach out and gather their loves close, and hang on tight through whatever life throws their way.

#cricket writes #historicallysam #ficlet fest 500 #rwrb #oscar diaz #schmoopy about his kids #as is right and proper

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igotsnothing · 4 months

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Beginning/Previous/Next 🐯🥭🐠🌅🪷

Beautiful lot build by @pandorasims4

Musical reference: 🎧

Happy New Year, friends! A new year, a new obsession story! I keep finding myself playing in Tomarang all the time: it's beautiful and I love it, and this story has been in the works (writing, setting up) pretty much since the day after the expansion dropped. It owes its existence to not just my enjoyment of Tomarang, but because a conversation with a friend got me thinking: my friend claimed that writing stories about how a couple meets and gets together is far more entertaining than writing stories about that same couple once they are together. I disagree! This is my formal protest! 😊

Transcript:

Lee: So…Thoughts? Henry: Can we even afford this place? It’s huge! Lee: Believe it or not, it’s half the price of our one-bedroom in San Sequoia. Henry: Are you sure? I won’t have to sell my body to the night to support my cute husband through medical school?

Lee: No, because your cute husband is also your smart husband and got a full scholarship. Henry: Then, can you hire me for my salacious services anyway?… Lee: Henry. Focus. Auntie Mei will be here with the keys any minute. If you don’t like it, I’ll tell her we’re ready to see the next place. Henry: What do you think? Do you like it?

Lee: I do. I like it a lot. It reminds me of my grandparents’ house. Lots of happy memories. Henry: Was that in the countryside? Lee: Yeah. The house is no longer there, but I’d love to take you to visit the village sometime.

Mei: Hi, boys! Lee: Hi, Auntie! Mei: I’m sorry I’m a bit late! I was with a client over in Koh Sahpa and traffic on the bridge was so slow!

Henry: Hi Mei! I haven’t seen you since the wedding! Mei: So nice to see you too! You had an easy trip? Henry: Not too bad! Mei: And is Lee taking good care of you? You eating enough? Lee: Oh my god, Auntie. It hasn’t even been five minutes…

Mei: This place is perfect. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to uni for you. And Henry, you can take the 71 bus to work; only two or three stops! Lee: This place…the tiles on the floor. High ceilings. Big windows… Flowers everywhere…It all reminds me so much of Grandma’s house.

Mei: I thought so too, sweetie. Your uncle suggested I show you an apartment on Segara Drive, but I knew you’d like this much more. It’s old-fashioned: no fancy gym, pool, or central air. It’s not in a flashy spot…But it’s real Tomarani living, in an authentic neighborhood, near our family. Besides, the owner is VERY motivated to sell !

Lee: Uh-oh…What’s the story behind that? Mei: Nothing bad! This is where Gugi Nguyen would secretly rendezvous with Anita Tran, away from the paparazzi. Lee: Who are they? Mei: Famous soap opera actors! They got married and don’t need this house anymore. Henry: Babe! That’s just like our story, minus the celebrity stuff! Lee: Pfff!

[Voices coming from downstairs, speaking excitedly in Tomarani.]

Henry: This is really happening. We’re here! Just a few days ago we were in San Sequoia… Now? This is going to be home. And this view? This could be our view. Every day. Wow!

#the sims 4 #sims 4 story #tomarang #the sims 4 for rent #tomarani adventure #slice of life #Lee Tan-McGraw #Henry Tan-McGraw #Mei Trang #they are newlyweds #tomarani adventure chapter 1 #roxaaaaaaaaaaaaane #the police reference because henry likes 80s music #henry focus #but it's hard to focus because lee is so precious #i get it

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months

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Cold Comfort: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You meet another psychic on a case that doesn’t want to work with you, and everyone’s faith is tested on exactly what you can do.

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

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

"And so, all the night-tide, I lay down by the side. Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride. In the sepulchre there by the sea. In her tomb by the sounding sea." - Edgar Allan Poe

This morning is one of the milder ones since there isn't a need for a case right now. You and Spencer just got in and joined Penelope, Emily, Kevin, and Derek in the small break room by your desks. Penelope has a newspaper in her hands with a page about horoscopes and zodiac signs.

Spencer is a Scorpio and you're an Aries since your birthday is in April. It's coming up but you're not sure what you want to do yet. Spencer will no doubt plan the perfect evening, so you're not too worried right now. Plus, you've read that Scorpios and Aries are compatible.

"Current influences should turn this day into one with plenty of potential, but avoid the trap of trying too hard. Know your strengths. Rely on them. Confidence, real or pretend, is your magic ingredient," Penelope reads Kevin's current horoscope.

"Confidence. Yes, I like that."

"Ooh, do mine," you grin and bounce over to them.

"When's your birthday?"

"Early April. I'm an Aries."

"Ah, here it is. You prefer to think that if someone hasn't noticed your superior charm, and isn't already thinking about proposing to you, then they aren't worth the effort. Now suddenly, it's you who wants to do the chasing and will really enjoy the feeling of being in pursuit."

"You hear that, Spencer? Better get your running shoes on because I'm going to chase you."

"One of the most compatible signs for Aries is Scorpio."

"It's like you're my soulmate," you joke with Spencer.

"Come on, guys, you don't really think there's actually anything to that stuff, do you?" Derek asks.

"You'd be surprised.

"It's gibberish," Emily has Derek's back.

"Thank you."

"Oh, you are just jealous because you don't have the magic ingredient.

"I have the magic ingredient. It's called Splenda," Emily grins and sips her coffee.

"Alright, skeptic, what's your sign?"

"No."

"No? Is that in May? Reid, we need a DOB on Prentiss."

"7:12 a.m., October 12th, 19--"

"Hey!" Emily cuts him off before he can say her birth year.

"Libra, I should have known," Penelope giggles. "A romantic opportunity may experience a slight hitch thanks to the pesky lunar influence, which could have you dipping into a rather chilly mood. If being demonstrative and warm is difficult, then neutralize this temporary cold front with a simple but affectionate gesture."

"I have a simple gesture."

Emily flips everyone off, and you laugh at her antics.

"Are you guys ready to gather?"

You turn to see JJ standing there with her hair cut short and looking amazing as ever. Jordan went back to counter-terrorism, allowing JJ to take her spot back.

"Well, look at you, miss thing. First day back and you're all business," Derek chuckles.

"Well, it's either diving right in or confronting my separation anxiety."

"It's tough being away from him, huh?"

"Yeah." You look down and notice a ring on her finger that's gold and sparkly. She notices you staring and holds it up for everyone to see. "It's Citrine, Henry's birthstone. Will and I both got one."

"That's so sweet," Pen gasps.

Penelope heads to her office while the rest of you head to the briefing room to get the meeting started. Right before JJ can enter, you pull her off to the side for a quick chat.

"Listen, Spencer and I were talking and if you and Will ever need a break to catch up with life or just to relax, we're more than happy to take care of Henry."

"I might take you up on that offer," she smiles. You two walk in; you take a seat next to Spencer and she takes her spot at the front. She puts pictures of a woman who is clearly dead onto the screen. "There's been a string of abductions in Olympia, Washington going back nine months. The four women are blond, blue-eyed, and in their early twenties. This morning they found one."

"When were they taken?"

"Nine months ago."

"Was she the first?"

"Yeah."

"She looks almost mummified."

"Not quite. She's embalmed. The time of death is a bit of a question mark right now."

"Where did they find her?" Rossi asks JJ.

"In a state park just east of Olympia. The body was jarred loose during a mudslide. That, plus the abnormal decomposition makes it difficult to know how long she was there."

"It says the victims were abducted about three months apart. He's rotating his victims out. There are gonna be more bodies out there. Wheels up in thirty."

Everyone is given thirty minutes to get their things and head to the private plane, but everyone makes it there in twenty.

"So, if I wanted to embalm a body, what's the process?" Emily asks once you're in the air.

"The blood is drained through the jugular vein and replaced with embalming fluid through one of the two major arteries. It usually takes a few hours," you explain. "You'd need special equipment and training for something like this. Knowledge of the human vascular system would also be a plus."

"Maybe it's a doctor," JJ suggests, "nurse, or a technician who has a background in mortuary sciences."

"Now, there's a major they didn't offer at my school."

"Personally, the whole thing just seems weird to me. Embalming, I mean," Emily says.

"Some people like to look good for their funeral."

"It's not them, though. It's a shell that's been polished and painted. I just want to be cremated."

"The question is why somebody would embalm the body of someone they just murdered. He wants to hold on to them. It's a possession issue. This way they can never leave. Maybe fear of abandonment speaks to his history."

"Eventually, even an embalmed body will decay. Eventually, he'll find himself in need of new victims."

"That explains the abduction cycle--a new victim every three months, which means at least two of the remaining women are already dead."

"What about the third?"

"Her name is Brooke Lombardini. It's been four days since she disappeared following her shift at a local restaurant. We know the odds."

"Ninety percent of all abduction victims are killed within the first thirty-six hours," you sigh.

When the plane landed, you headed to the dump site where they found the first victim along with Derek and Spencer. The rest of them went to the police station to get set up. Detective Ron Fullwood is already on the scene when you arrive. Tracking someone outside is harder than inside because the elements can mess up energies to the point you might not even see them. If the three other victims are out there somewhere, you have to try your hardest to track them down.

"A hiker found a foot protruding from the soil right up here. The whole side of the hill slid down from up there," Ron says.

"You're focusing the search in this area?"

"Yeah, but if he dumped other bodies here, he's got over eight hundred acres to work with."

"Keep your men near the fire road, Detective," Spencer suggests. "One man dragging a body through the woods with a hundred and ten pounds of dead weight isn't gonna get far from the path. That's why a lot of killers dismember their victims. They're easier to dispose of that way."

"You think it says something about the profile? That he didn't chop her up?"

"Possibly, yeah."

You look around the area and focus your concentration on bringing the energy of the dead alive. You walk away from the spot where the first victim was found and stop about twenty feet from it. There is something on the ground reflecting off the light from the sun. With your pen, you pick the item up so you don't touch it and contaminate the evidence.

It's a gold cross necklace. Whoever owns this is nearby, you can feel her.

Through the treelines where the sun shines through, is a mess of energy that can be missed if you weren't already looking for it. You walk over to the area and the energy wisps away as if it's leading you somewhere. The more you follow it, the more it moves until you get to the spot it's taking you to.

"Where are you going?" Spencer asks.

This isn't the energy of the first victim found, it's a new one entirely.

"Someone is buried here! You need to dig over here!" you call out. Everyone gathers around the spot you directed them to and begins to dig. It doesn't take long before a hand protrudes from the ground. Everyone stares at you as if you had something to do with the murder. "I swear I didn't have any knowledge about this victim."

The energy wisps away from the burial site over to three trees and takes the form of the victim. She smiles sadly at you before misting away knowing that she is found and can find her own peace.

"The answer to your question, Detective, is yes, this killer can't dismember these women. He cares for them."

You let local police and crime scene investigators do their job while you, Derek, and Spencer head back to the police station. The mom of the recent victim, Brooke, is begging for the police's help with the hope that she is still alive somewhere. She already has someone on her side helping her, someone named Stanley Usher.

He's a psychic like you. You've met your fair share of psychics, but never anyone as strong as you are. Some only can infer emotions, some of them connect with people's personalities and make lucky guesses, but you've never met anyone who can do exactly what you can do.

When you find out about Stanley, everyone's eyes are on you.

"What? I'm not the only psychic on the planet. I've met my fair share of psychics--not good ones, but psychics nonetheless. Most of them were frauds who only wanted people's money."

"Exactly," Rossi backs you up. "Hope is one thing. False hope is something else."

"I know you thought that about me when we first met, but I'd like to hope you have faith in me now."

"You get lucky," he shrugs playfully.

"I guess you've worked with psychics before?" Derek asks. "You know, prior to Y/N."

"Not by choice."

"There are cases where people believe they've helped. Y/N has helped so much for this team," JJ backs you up.

"She's the real deal. She's proven to me she can actually help. Others don't. When people are vulnerable, they'll believe a lot of things."

If you're going to work this case, you have to know exactly who you're dealing with. You have to meet Stanley to know if he's going to help or if he's like the frauds you've come across. Rossi wants you to be there with JJ, so you three head over there as soon as possible to meet with Sandra, Brooke's mom, and Stanley.

Stanley is standing in the kitchen off to the side. He doesn't seem to notice you or feel your presence, but you definitely feel his. Despite him being a psychic, you can read him like an open book. His reputation has suffered a lot during his life. He has some abilities he can rely on, but not as strong as you can. He was once called a fraud but you don't know how true that is.

"We think the man who took her may have come by her work. A customer or someone she may have talked about," JJ says to Sandra.

"We think this man is a loner. He would dine by himself and make frequent visits, but he's shy and avoids eye contact."

"She got asked out sometimes."

"No, this man wouldn't have asked her out. He wouldn't have had the courage. He would have stared at her and made her uncomfortable."

"I've told the police everything I know. You shouldn't be here. You should be looking into the clues," Sandra urges and pushes a necklace toward JJ that belonged to Brooke.

"Right, like clues from Brooke's necklace?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am. It's called token object reading or psychometry."

"I know what it's called."

"See, a person's energy makes an impression on everything they touch. It allows me to connect with them. The hard part is interpreting what I'm given. I know she felt weakened, tired, and heavy."

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Rossi asks Stanley. Both you and Rossi go off to the side with Stanely to speak to him privately. "I've been around a little, and I've seen guys like you come into the lives of grieving families."

"Sir, I assure you, that's not what--"

"Listen to me, the last thing this woman needs is some con man giving her unrealistic ideas."

"With all due respect, sir, you may not know what she needs. Your job is to know the perpetrators."

"We're not talking about my job."

"Maybe we should be because there are a lot of people out there who don't believe in what you do, either."

"The only person I trust to do this is her," Rossi gestures to you.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm an empathic psychic."

Just like that, Stanley's demeanor changes at your words. It's like he hates you or something because all you feel from him is disgust and hatred.

"I'm sorry, but I can't work with her. You can either work with me or her, but not both," he says to Rossi.

"No offense to you, but I choose her."

They have some talking to do, so you leave their side and join JJ and Sandra in the kitchen. JJ gets up to answer her ringing phone, and you take her seat so you're sitting across from Sandra.

"Hi, Sandra. My name is Y/N. I'm an empathic psychic and a very good one at that. Stanley refuses to work with me, but it's your decision on who you want on this case. I have credibility and I'd love to help you if that's what you want. I've caught a lot of killers and saved a lot of people. I just want you to think about who you want here."

JJ gets off the phone and looks at you and Rossi.

"I just got a call. They found a third body."

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

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

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Sunshine on a Cloudy Day - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: You’re the Millers neighbours who has become practically family within two years except Joel has kept your from Tommy in fear of him breaking your heart... What happens when Joel one day tells you Tommy really cares about you and he has no problems of you pursuing Tommy...

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: pining; smut (p in v) and lots of fluff

Notes: This is my first try at no outbreak au

Y/N’s POV

Being best friends with your hot neighbours had its perks as well as its downsides. I had a spare key which the outwardly grumpy Joel Miller had cut for me a year into our friendship, ignoring the way Sarah looked between the two of us with a knowing look. Except she really didn’t know. Sure, Joel Henry Miller is fucking hot with his curly brown hair; deep caramel brown eyes and the messy scruff of a beard but he’s not the Miller I found myself falling for. Joel saw it first, of course, and told me that his little brother - Tommy - is too much of a playboy for me and that he’d break my heart but that didn’t stop me thinking of him at night or giggling myself silly when he was around.

Today was no different, my house was boring and empty so I grabbed my phone and the keys before heading across the street to the Miller’s house. It’s quiet stepping inside as Sarah’s at school and I’m guessing Joel and Tommy have a job today so I busy myself with cleaning up their mess. I’m off work until Monday, with nothing to do except twiddle my thumbs for the next two days so cleaning their house and cooking a hot meal for them is a great distraction and it’ll take my mind off my sister’s phone call. They’re not messy people, it’s just Joel struggles with getting up early but, he does it anyway to take his sweet daughter to school everyday before he and Tommy then drive on to wherever they’re working. If I’m at the coffee shop they’ll stop by for their usual coffees and tell me about their mornings if there’s no queue behind them. It’s nice. I love the routine we have. It could be seen as a little chaotic and weird to anyone else but it works for the four of us and I don’t want to lose it for anything.

Joel’s room is the messiest of course, the duvet half off the bed and clothes on the floor as if he overslept today which being Joel… yeah probably. I sniff every shirt on the floor, organising them into clean and dirty piles before folding the clean ones and putting them back into the drawers and stripping the bed because he probably hasn’t had time to wash his duvet in a while. The dirty pile is thrown at the top of the stairs as I go do the same in Sarah’s room, her bed being made and it’s clean enough to leave alone so I just grab her hamper of dirty clothes, adding them to the pile. The guest room hasn’t been touched since I last slept in there so all that’s left is Tommy’s room.

I knock first as he might be in there, you can never tell with Tommy, but there’s no reply so I cautiously open the door. It’s empty, he’s at work with Joel it seems and it gives me time to be able to clean his room, doing the same as I did with Joel’s but the smell of his shirts has me a little weak at the knees. I don’t know why but there’s just something about the way Tommy smells so much like vanilla; woodsmoke and fresh coffee that has me intoxicated. It takes me a minute to shake the thoughts of what he’d be like in bed, lips soft and persistent and the low husk to his voice. I have to quickly grab his dirty clothes and the stripped duvet cover, leaving the room before I do something stupid.

The pile of all their dirty laundry is a struggle to get into the washing machine but I refuse to do two loads so I make it fit, putting the detergent in and turning it on before focusing on getting the kitchen tidy so I can get food prepared. They have a dishwasher that makes things a lot easier so I load it with the dirty plates and cups that are piled on the side before wiping down every surface and checking for any glasses or plates elsewhere like the living room before putting it on. Then, knowing how busy the three of them have been I check their fridge and yeah I was right: there’s left over pizza and like three day old takeaway chicken wings along with condiments and milk that is on its last day. Their cupboards are in similar condition: a lonely bag of pasta and some cereal as well as a few sandwich fillers like Nutella. It’s only three in the afternoon so I have at least two more hours before Joel and Tommy get back so a quick trip to the supermarket is definitely an option but then again so is ordering the shopping as I’m not going to be able to carry four peoples worth of food back from the shops and I don’t have a car.

It doesn’t take long for the shopping to be ordered and delivered, our nosey neighbour bidding me good afternoon when I open the door to grab the bags from the delivery driver. I thank the driver then smile at William, sending him a wave before moving all the bags to the table so I can unpack them and put everything away. It should feel wrong, being in Joel’s house without him here and buying him shopping, putting it all away to then get started on dinner. Others would say they should pay me to be a stay at home mum but I’m not, I’m… I’m not sure what I am to them, maybe platonic soulmate? I don’t have to say anything for Joel to ever understand me and vice versa, that’s what platonic soulmates are, aren’t they? I don’t care what others think anyway, I’m happy in my own little bubble, it’s why I moved to Austin in the first place. I had to get away from everyone and everything I knew after the death of my brother, I couldn’t deal with the sympathetic looks and whispers.

The front door opens and familiar voices fill the house as I’m plating up the one pot creamy chicken pasta I settled on making. The three of them file in, eyes widening and mouths watering at the steaming food set at the table, throwing their thanks at me before they’re practically racing to their seats and digging in. I make sure the hob is off and that the seconds are covered before joining them, taking my seat next to Tommy with Joel opposite me and it’s perfect. Joel and Tommy begin to talk about their days, one of their workmen not having turned up and made everything stressful and they’ll have to work late tomorrow which means I’ll be spending the day with Sarah tomorrow. Sarah then tells her dad and Uncle Tommy about her day, how a fight broke out and her best friend - Theo - told her the kids were expelled. They’ve both had eventful days so I’m just glad I could help take some of the pressure off of them.

Joel’s doing amazingly as a single father, giving the fact Sarah’s mother just up and left him with Sarah one day. The brothers were forced to work things out, Tommy stepping up to be there for his older brother and little niece, and they’ve both done so fucking well for it. Sarah’s growing up to be a beautiful and fun, well mannered girl who is both equal parts strong and compassionate. It sometimes makes me jealous, seeing how well put together and close knit they are, longing for the same things but everything changed for me after losing my twin brother two years ago. My sister has reached out to me a few times but other than that not much has happened communication wise. Seeing the Millers makes me want to reach out to my parents but I know they would just reprimand me for leaving and if they found out where I lived they’d come all the way here and try and drag me back to California against my will. They had called me rude and disrespectful for not attending Scott’s funeral despite seeing the way I couldn’t leave the house that day without throwing up from the stress and realisation that my partner in crime was gone. I had packed up my things and hired a removal company to pick me up and drive me across the country to get as far away from it all as I could.

A hand settles on my thigh and I’m whipping my head up to see Tommy and Joel watching me, concern in their eyes and Sarah’s no where to be seen. Her plates empty and there’s movement upstairs which means she’s probably gone to do her homework. The hand tightens on my thigh, “You okay baby girl?” I can’t stop the shiver that runs down my back and directly to my core whenever Tommy calls me ‘baby girl’ as it does stuff to me.

“Y-yeah,” It’s not convincing, both of them raising their eyebrows at me, “My sister called me again to tell me my younger brother graduated yesterday.” I shrug and just focus on the comforting weight of Tommy’s hand through my jeans, the brothers sharing a look before they go back to eating and their own conversations knowing I’ll tell them one day about my past and my family. It’s another thing I love about them: they don’t push me to tell them things, knowing I’ll come to them if I want or need to. They’re always there for me and I hope I’m also there for them just as much. Maybe tonight could be the night I tell them about Scott… or tomorrow.

“Come on baby girl, movie night.” Tommy grins at me, that stupidly cocky smile making my cheeks heat up and I have to avert my gaze, feeling Joel roll his eyes at me and he snorts quietly from amusement, “Let’s go old man!” Tommy’s smirking at Joel who throws his napkin at Tommy, the younger slapping his arm in retaliation. Children.

I lean into Tommy’s side, pretending to sniff his shirt and pull a disgusted face, “Nice try, go shower first, you stink.” Before grabbing my now empty plate and heading to the sink, a gasp ripped from my lips when his familiar frame covers my back and presses me against the counter. His nose is cold against my neck, spreading goosebumps in its wake, lips ghosting over my neck before he murmurs, “Maybe you should join me, you stink too.”

It takes everything in me not to let him have me, not ready to have my heart broken like Joel said but a huge part of him wants him. From everything I’ve been told about Tommy, and what I’ve seen, it’s hard to tell if he really does like me or sees me as a challenge because I don’t just fall into bed with him. Those velvety lips really settle on my neck, teeth scraping my collarbone and I’m gripping the counter so hard my knuckles go white and his chest rumbles against my back. The vanilla; woodsmoke and coffee mixed with the sweat and heat of him being out in the sun working all day makes me dizzy with everything Tommy and my lips are parting with a shaky breath.

“Are you two gonna spent the evening fucking or join us?” Sarah’s cheeky voice scares me, my face heating up while Tommy doesn’t even seem phased as he just turns to her and winks. I stay where I am, too embarrassed to move as Tommy steps back a little, every fibre in my being wanting to follow him but I don’t. I have to take a deep breath before turning around to see Sarah grinning innocently at me while Tommy begins to raid the fridge as if I haven’t just fed him.

“Sarah!” We hear Joel scold Sarah for her language from the living room, no actual venom in it as he also swears sometimes in front of Sarah. Better to teach her it’s okay to swear in certain situations and calling sex ‘fucking’ is definitely not the right situation. Especially when it’s directed at her uncle and me.

Sarah just giggles and calls back a quick “Sorry Dad!” before watching me and Tommy. She’s always been curious and quickly worked out I wasn’t into her dad but her uncle, not as quickly as Joel but damn nearly as quick. It catches me off guard when she says, “I think you two would be cute together.”

“I was just going to grab some sweet treats I may have got you all,” I change the subject, feeling shy suddenly, Sarah’s face lights up at this and Tommy reappears from having his head in the fridge at the word treats, “But before any of us can have any Uncle Tommy needs to go shower.” I fix him with a pointed gaze and Sarah’s grabbing her uncle and pushing him towards the stairs.

“My offer still stands baby girl.” Tommy calls before Sarah’s making sure he actually goes upstairs. Once she’s sure he’s doing as he’s been told she waits for me to grab the only bag I didn’t unpack before we join Joel in the living room. He fixes me with a look as I settle on his left and Sarah sits on his right.

Joel doesn’t have to speak for me to know what that look means: He will break your heart. There’s something else though, something that has me frowning down at the bag of sweets until Joel’s taking the bag and handing it to Sarah who knows exactly what sweets and drinks are for who as we all have our own favourites. Joel leans close, wrapping his arms around me in a hug before he whispers something I didn’t ever expect from him, “He really cares for you.” I just frown at Joel, unsure of what he’s getting out as he’s always trying to deter me from my feeling for Tommy. It’s never out of jealousy, Joel and I have talked about us and we agree we are and always will just be best friends. I need to bring up the platonic soulmates to him at some point actually as- “He hasn’t even looked at another girl in months.” Joel’s sighing softly, forehead falling to my shoulder and I finally understand. Tommy cares for me. He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he actually cares for me.

The little touches, the flirting, the way he looks away when I catch him staring. He’s not flirting with me for the hell of it, he gets shy. Tommy gets shy over me but fuck his flirting game is something to be envied. The way he leaves me breathless and frustrated, that knowing smirk on his oh so kissable lips, the way he runs a hand through his dark curls and his cognac eyes sliding over me. Tommy’s hair and those freckles have to me the biggest weakness for me. The amount times I’ve dreamt about tangling my hands through those curly locks, watching the way his eyes would darken and he’d probably gasp so dirtily. It has me shifting in my seat and Joel’s smacking my leg with the back of his hand as if reading my thoughts. His caramel eyes are soft and he seems to nod ever so slightly and that’s all it takes for me to stand up and make my way out of the living room and upstairs as calmly as I can.

The bathroom door is unlocked so I open it silently, slipping inside and closing it without a sound. Tommy’s humming to himself, music playing on his phone so he doesn’t hear me and it gives me the opportunity to undress. It’s a huge risk I’m taking but I trust Joel’s words, quietly stepping in behind Tommy and just admiring how good he looks from the back. His lean muscles rippling and the smooth slide of his back, leading down to that very slap-able ass, all sun kissed skin and freckles. I have to refrain myself and instead step closer, snaking my arms around his waist causing him to jump a little before I’m pressing a kiss to his shoulder and he’s practically purring. He gently tugs me around him to I’m under the hot water, a groan escaping my lips as the water melts away all the tension in my shoulders and Tommy’s lips are on my neck. He’s smiling into the trail of kisses he’s leading up until the shower head is turned to the side so he can press those pretty lips to mine in a gentle kiss. I expected Tommy to be hot and needy like his flirting but he’s far from it, his kiss being slow and romantic, hands skimming over my sides as if his hands are trying to map and memorise every bump and curve of my body. It has me gasping a little, his tongue brushing against mine until my lung burn for oxygen.

“Hi there baby girl,” His cognac eyes are warm and full of emotions I’ve been trying to ignore for so long, they stay on my face, never once straying despite being naked in front of him, “Didn’t actually think you’d join me.”

“‘M crazy for you,” I mumble, going to duck my head but he stops me with a finger under my chin, pupils blown wide, “I’ve been crazy for you since we met.”

“Fuck baby girl,” He’s whining, pulling me flush against him and capturing me in another breathtaking kiss, this one wanting more and it doesn’t take long for me to tangle my hand in his hair and tug experimentally. The breathy moan he lets out has me tugging harder, wanting to hear more and his hands grip my hips tightly, “You keep doing that and we will be skipping movie night.”

“Is that a challenge?”

He’s turning the shower off, picking me up and making sure my legs are wrapped around his waist before he drags me into a kiss, walking us to his room. He’s throwing me on his bed, shutting his door as the sound of the movie gets turned up a little more, like Joel knows. Oh god, we’re about to have sex with Joel and Sarah in the house. I can never look at them again-

Lips are on my thighs, kisses scattering their way up, moustache burning the sensitive skin a little and as much as I’d love for him to eat me out, having seen the way he eats ice cream I need him. My hands reach for his hair, pulling him away from my aching core and over me, drawing him for a slow and passionate kiss while wrapping my legs around his waist. He gets the hint, chest rising and falling quickly as he murmurs in my ear, “You need prepping sweet girl.” It has me whining, back arching with need when he circles a rough pad of his finger around my wet heat. Any sound I make is swallowed by those addictive lips when he finally pushes a finger in, my walls immediately trying to clench around it and it draws a guttural sound from him. His lips trail down my neck and chest, teeth grazing my nipples before he’s sucking while beginning to move his finger inside me. All of it has my slamming a hand over my mouth as I try to stay quiet, especially when a second finger joins the first and he’s stretching me out. He’s rocking his hips into my leg, trying to be patient to make sure I’m comfortable but if he doesn’t stop soon I’m going to come.

He can feel me fluttering around his hands, smile on his lips where they’re now biting a hickey into my neck, his fingers curling and hitting that bundle of nerves that snatches the air from my lungs. Fuck. It’s as if he already knows my body with the way he has me teetering on the edge of bliss, my walls trying to keep him in and my thighs slamming shut around his arm. His thumb comes up to rub teasing circles into the hard bud and it has my body tensing as I cry our his name, wave after wave of ecstasy shuddering through my body and my mind blanks of everything except Tommy.

His lips find mine, moving leisurely, thumb caressing my cheek as he replaces his fingers with the head of his dick, already stretching me wide. A heavy gasp is ripped from me when he slowly begins to slide in, eyes squeezing shut as he’s bigger than he could have prepared me for but he’s whispering soothingly in my ear, “Shhh, shhhh, it’s okay baby girl. I’ve got you sweetheart. It’s alright. Deep breaths. Relax baby girl. I’ve got you.”

The whispers accompanied by his fingers gently working on my clit has me relaxing enough to accept him all the way, the moan he lets out when buried to the hilt makes me almost come again there and then. He holds himself still until the uncomfortableness turns into burning hot want and need and I’m cautiously rolling my hips against him, his cognac eyes flying open to meet mine with a hungry look in them. He draws me into a hot and heavy kiss as he pulls out so just the tip is still in before he slides back in, filling me up and it’s nothing I expected from Tommy. I never understood the difference between sex and making love until now with Tommy resting his forehead against mine and our hands tangled together either side of my head as he slowly thrusts, taking his time and drawing out our mutual pleasure. The sound of our panted breaths and soft whimpers and whines drowns out the muffled music from the movie downstairs and all I can smell is Tommy, the vanilla and woodsmoke still clinging to him even after the shower. It all adds to the slowly building tightness in my stomach and I’m moving my hips down to meet his, my back arching when he hits that sweet spot that has me seeing stars.

“T-Tommy..” I whine and his teeth graze my chin, adding to the pleasure as every fibre on my body is on fire, that coil tightening almost painfully as he drags against my g-spot with every thrust until I’m tensing up and my eyes roll back into my head. His hips begin snapping against mine, face buries in my neck and has tightening in mine as I ride out my high, him not too far behind.

“Fuuuckkk baby girl,” He pants against my neck, hips stuttering as he thrusts a few more times before he’s filling me up, teeth sinking into skin to muffle his moan before he’s collapsing on top of me and I’m untangling one hand from his to bring it to his hair. He hums softly as I begin carding it through his messy curls, “‘M so in love with you. Have been for a while.” He admits, slipping out and leaving me feeling empty.

“I’m in love with you too.” It’s spoken so quietly I’m not sure he hears it as he stands up to grab the towel and clean us up but from the grin that breaks out on his face he does. He’s grinning the whole time he’s wiping away the mess sliding down my legs as I’m too spent and tired to move. He helps me into a pair of his boxers and a baggy shirt before pulling on a pair of boxers himself. I can’t not blush when he just stands there, admiring me until I have to turn away as it’s too much attention, I’m not used to anyone looking at me like that. He’s looking at me like I hung the stars and it steals my breath away.

“We can have another movie night tomorrow to make it up to them,” Tommy laughs, sliding into his bed behind me, wrapping himself around me like a safety net between me and the uncertain world, “I want you to know I really fucking love you and always will. You’re my sunshine on a cloudy day sweetheart.”

That’s how I fall asleep, Tommy wrapped around me with his lips brushing against the back of my neck and his arm around my waist. A smile one my lips as his words echo around my mind.

Sunshine of a cloudy day.

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

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lu-vin-it · 1 year

Text

The Two of Us | 5

Masterlist | Canon Divergences

Summary: You and Ellie go to the Kingdom to celebrate Maggie’s return. You end up ditching the party to talk, however, when some shocking news is thrown on you.

Pairings: Ellie Williams x Reader, Daryl Dixon x Reader (paternal)

Pronouns Used: She/Her

Word Count: 1,236

Warnings: I hate this chapter so much, it is so rushed in my opinion.

A/N: Thank you @stqrfishluvr for proofreading ilysm!! Also, thank you all for supporting this series and giving it love! This is the last part.

The ride back to the Kingdom was tame, you were drawing on Ellie’s hand and she was admiring you. Maggie and Carol talked about the party and you occasionally chimed in to tell Ellie who someone was or to give your two cents on a person if you didn’t like them.

Ellie seemed pretty nervous when you arrived, so you grabbed her hand and gave her a smile (which made her melt, you were so damn cute.) The first person you introduced her to was King Ezekial, as he met you at the gate. He then led you to the dinner party.

Henry came rushing up to you to hug his Mother and then you. He was quickly followed by Lydia who gave you a hug as well.

“Guys this is Ellie, Ellie this is Henry and Lydia.”

“Hi.”

“Hey! Are you guys staying the night?” Lydia asks you. You nod with a smile.

“Yeah, Daryl should be here soon too.” Lydia’s eyes light up. You knew she liked Daryl a lot, and even though he would never admit it, he liked her too.

“Have you seen Michonne yet?” Henry cuts in. You shake your head.

“No where is she?” Henry and Lydia share a glance with each other.

“What is it?” You wonder, growing increasingly worried. Ellie squeezes your hand that you forgot she was holding.

“She’s got news.” They smile.

“What news? Where is she?” Henry and Lydia end up leading you to Michonne. “Michonne!” You let go of Ellie and run up to the woman to hug her. She had been like your Mother for years. It had been months since you had seen her last considering it took a while to get to Alexandria.

“Y/N!” She chuckles while hugging you. “How’ve you been my sweet girl?” She cups your face as she moves out of the hug.

“I’ve been good. Oh! This is Ellie!” You return to your spot by the girl.

“Hello Ellie, welcome.” Your girlfriend holyfuckingshitdhdbehdb smiles and nods once.

“She’s from Jackson, that new community.” The woman nods.

“How is it over there?”

“Uh— it’s weird.. lotta old people..” Michonne laughs.

“I’ve been meaning to come by with Carol some time.”

“Stop by the cabin before you do, I’d like to come.” She nods.

“Will do.”

“Henry and Lydia said you had news?” Michonne averts her eyes.

“I do.”

“What is it?”

“When I was out trying to find weapons for the coalition, I found evidence that…” She struggles to finish. “That Rick was alive.” You furrow your eyebrows.

“What? That’s not possible..” You shake your head.

“I’m leaving next week to search.” You stare blankly at her.

“Well.. when are you gonna be back?”

“It’s hard to say. I’m going to follow the trail as far as I can. I’m going to bring him home.” She kisses your forehead. “I have to go talk to Carol. I love you. It was nice meeting you, Ellie.” Michonne’s eyes dropped to your hand that Ellie held, she gave you a knowing look before walking off.

“What the fuck.” You whisper, bringing your hands to your face.

“Wasn’t Rick the guy who—“

“Got blown up? Yeah.” You grab Ellie’s hand and start walking out of the dining hall.

“Where are we going?”

“Carol’s house. I have a room there.”

“You have two rooms?” You glance at her and nod.

“I used to have one in Alexandria too, but then RJ turned three and wanted his own… Michonne, Daryl, and Carol all raised me. I'm closest to Daryl but Carol and Michonne are basically my Moms.”

“It must be nice.” You give her a sad smile.

“Yeah.” You pause. “Hey how come you haven’t told me anything about Joel and you?”

“Oh.. I dunno. It just hasn’t come up.”

“Well it’s up now.”

“I was in a FEDRA school, then I got bit and ended up with some fireflies.” You furrow your brows.

“God— FEDRA and fireflies? You’ve been through some shit.” Ellie chuckles.

“Yeah.. that’s not even the worst part.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to babe.” Ellie blushes at the nickname.

“I want to. The fireflies knew about me being immune and they were going to use me to find a cure. Except the lady who was going to take me to the other camp got shot so Joel and his friend Tess took me. Tess died but Joel and I made it out— obviously. We ran into this group.. I think it was called like— Terminus— or something—“

“Shut up.” You gape at Ellie.

“The Terminus cannibals? David?” She nods. “Babe, those were the cannibals we ran into! What a coincidence.. okay— sorry— continue.” Ellie giggles at you.

“Anyways, I killed David.” You stare at her in shock.

“What?”

As you continued walking, Ellie continued to tell you about her trip from Boston to here. When you finally made it up to your room, you laid on your bed while Ellie went through some of your stuff.

“I’m so sleepy.” You complain.

“That sucks for you.” You look at the girl.

“It actually sucks for you, I’m gonna make it your problem.” You tease with a grin.

“Ugh if that’s the case, I might just have to break up with you.” You gape at her.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She crosses her arms.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Nope.”

“You’re probably right.” She stands up and walks to the bed. “Scootch!” You move to the opposite side of the bed and Ellie lays down next to you. You both lay facing each other.

“You’re pretty.” She smiles and averts her eyes as her cheeks turn pink.

“You’re prettier.” You reach up and brush some of the stray hairs out of her face. She glances at you, making brief eye contact and smiling again.

“So— um— what’s the deal with ‘King Ezekial’?” You giggle.

“He was an actor I think. He just ended up with a bunch of followers.” You put your hand back to your side.

“Really? That’s so cool!” She leans up on her hand.

“Yeah! He used to have this pet tiger—“

“A pet what now?” You giggle.

“A pet tiger!”

“That’s insane! How come I’m only just now hearing about this?”

“I dunno it hasn’t come up!”

“Where’s this pet tiger now?”

“Shiva was a war hero. She died during the savior fight.” Ellie frowns.

“That’s sad. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have loved you.” You grab her hand and intertwine your fingers.

“That’s because everyone loves me, I’m the best.” You giggle.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm! You can’t even deny it because you’re my girlfriend” butterfliesohmygodbutterflies. “So you're proof!” She pokes your arm.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Ha! Victory!” She giggles. You lean in and kiss her abruptly.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist you.” You and Ellie stare at each other for a moment before bursting out into laughter. After a few seconds you go quiet, your mind full with thoughts of Rick. How was he alive? How was Michonne going to find him? You barely knew him, but you remember him being a heroic man, one that put others first and cared about his family more than anything. Ellie notices your quietness and grabs your hand.

“It’s gonna be okay.” She whispers. You nod.

“I know.” You stare into her eyes and smile. Yeah, maybe everything would be alright.

Taglist: @sawaagyapong @afro-hispwriter @avengingparker @graciexmarvel @evangelinejxy @lovelyy-moonlight

#ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x child!reader #tlou x twd #the last of us x the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction

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angstyaches · 1 year

Note

If you’re still taking prompts, would you write something with Donnacha looking after Henry? Maybe since Henry doesn’t want to go out and hasn’t been shopping, he eats something that’s gone off and it makes him really sick

CW: depression, anxiety around social cues, idk how to tag this but Henry is repeatedly triggered by things he knows are unreasonable but is triggered nonetheless, food mention, food poisoning, chronic pain mentioned, spicy times (hinted at; happening in another room), stomach ache, nausea, emeto, platonic cuddling, platonic kissing, platonic caretaking, brief mention of break-up (Donnacha and Autumn).

Word Count: 4,500 (yeah)

___

Henry slowly moved the fork towards his mouth, barely able to convince his lips to come apart long enough to place a scrap of spaghetti Bolognese inside. Then, it was just a case of convincing his jaws to work so that he could chew. It wasn’t much, but it was honest work, he reckoned.

He’d cooked this three days ago, when he’d been hit by a sudden wave of inspiration regarding taking care of his own basic needs. (Bolognese was one of the only things he knew how to make.) He’d also had an exceptionally long shower and shaved his neck that night. Stubble had already found its way back to him, and he hadn’t felt the urge to cook anything else.

He made a face as he chewed. Had his cooking always been this bland, or were his tastebuds checking out as punishment for the lack of variety he’d been offering them? Or maybe he’d blasted them to hell with the microwaved leftovers without realising it? It wasn’t unheard of for Henry to accidentally damage himself and not realise it until hours later.

Still, the food itself couldn’t be too bad, since he hadn’t automatically retched after taking the first bite. His body just liked to complain.

He glimpsed over a couple of pages of The Catcher in the Rye while he ate. The book was one of the oldest things he still owned, gifted to (stolen for?) him by his secondary school English teacher when the school had downsized their library. It still had a list of names glued to the title page, all of them students who had graduated long before he’d even started at the school.

He looked up as he heard the front door click, eyeing the space in the hall that was visible from the living room table.

A low, tittering giggle made his ears tingle. It didn’t match up with the sounds of anybody who usually came through here.

“Don’t worry!” Lucy. “I would’ve tripped, too, but I’m weirdly well-coordinated. I’m like a mountain goat.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, for no one’s benefit in particular. Lucy was so loud when she was tipsy. And such a liar, too. He’d seen her trip over empty air more times than he could count.

She popped into view, tipping her pink-haired head forward and looking into the living room out of habit. All of the flatmates usually did this, sussing out who was already home and occupying the common space.

She had a ‘friend’ with her. The giggler. She was a good half-foot taller than Lucy, helped by a pair of patent black platform sandals.

“Hi, Henry.” Lucy stood with her shoulders pulled back further than normal, with her hands held behind her back. It always amused Henry, just how differently she acted while she was in the middle of seducing someone. Like him, she was a bit of a social shapeshifter. “This is Cassidy.”

“Hi, Cassidy.” Henry was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was a) wearing a tattered wool sweater on top of yet another wool sweater and b) holding a steaming spoonful of spaghetti Bolognese halfway up to his mouth. “Nice shoes.”

“Thanks,” Cassidy grinned. “They tripped me up on the stairs.”

Henry had guessed as much. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Cassidy took hold of Lucy’s arm. “Ooh, what are you reading there?”

Henry lifted his book to show her the cover.

“Salinger, nice,” Cassidy smiled. Henry didn’t have a good enough grasp on her personality to know if she was being sarcastic or genuine, but what he did know was that she’d just pronounced the ‘g’ in ‘Salinger’ as though it should made a ‘guh’ sound.

He opened his mouth to correct her. “Actually, it’s –”

“We’re going to my room now,” Lucy interrupted. She sounded like a six-year-old bragging about their action figure collection.

Henry nodded sardonically. “Happy for you, hon.”

This was… partly true. He was about five percent happy for his bestie, while ninety percent of his emotional capacity was leaning towards envy and self-hatred. Henry hadn’t brought anyone home in so long that, out of sheer pity, Lucy had stopped outwardly teasing him about it.

The remaining five percent? It was burning with dissatisfaction at not being able to correct Cassidy’s pronunciation of ‘Salinger’.

The two girls continued down the hall, and Henry finally finished bringing his fork to his mouth. His chewing grew a bit more aggressive, and he scooped up some more Bolognese before he’d even swallowed.

His last attempted hook-up had spooked him a little bit, but that had been months ago. Maybe it was time to get back on the apps. Maybe he’d do it tonight. Maybe he’d stay up late, make himself look pretty, take a few new selfies to post –

No. Henry scowled, taking another flavourless bite. No procrastinating. He had a few pretty big commissions on his plate right now, and one of them in particular needed at least a few hours of his attention tonight. And it was already nearing 11pm, as the cat-shaped pendulum clock on the wall informed him.

Shit. Where is the name of all that was holy had the evening gone?

With his stomach relatively full, and his deadline anxiety spiking, Henry started to get up from the table. He grabbed his plate with one hand and his cane with the other, and brought his leftovers (left-leftovers?) to the kitchen.

___

As he settled into his desk chair, Henry pulled on some noise-cancelling headphones to drown out the sounds of t.A.T.u. that were drifting through the wall he shared with Lucy’s room. He didn’t object to Lucy’s music choices in the slightest, but he preferred to block everything out with white noise when he had work to do.

“It’s Salinger,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing Cassidy wouldn’t hear him, but needing to say it in order to move on to the next tasks at hand.

Less than two minutes after he’d pulled up his most pressing project, Henry could feel a steady stream of vibrations beginning just below his ribcage. He briefly pressed a hand against his side, feeling a ripple under his fingers. He didn’t think much of the mild discomfort. Besides a banana and a cup of tea, the leftover Bolognese had been the only thing he’d eaten all day.

He’d have to order groceries soon. He hated how much he dreaded it; he knew he was privileged to live in an age where he didn’t have to drag himself out to the supermarket, but somehow, the mental toll of shopping online was almost as hefty as the physical toll of leaving the apartment.

Maybe he should open a new internet tab and get it over with right now, while he had a vague sort of motivation to do it –

No. Henry gritted his teeth. That was just the urge to procrastinate again. And it was far too late in the day for that.

A streak of light sat across his computer screen, drifting in from the hallway. He always left the door ajar unless he was sleeping. The light hitting the screen swelled now, indicating that someone was opening the door further.

Henry almost screamed at the sudden interruption. Sure, not everybody in the world knew he had just sat down to get some work done, but… they should have!

“What?” he snapped, a little harsher than intended. He spun his chair to face the door as it opened the rest of the way, pulling off his headphones.

Donnacha’s hair was sticking up in the back and sides as he stood there, in light grey tracksuit pants and a Rick and Morty hoodie. He grimaced at Henry’s tone.

“Do you have any spare headphones?”

Henry frowned, his brain still struggling to switch gears. “Uh… yes? My old ones. Why?”

“Well, I left my ear buds at the gym, and… Lucy’s got her ‘getting lucky’ playlist on.” Donnacha grimaced widely and pointed in the general direction of Lucy’s room. “And I’d rather not be hearing it, to be honest.”

“Oh. Well, they’re not noise-cancelling –”

“That’s absolutely grand. I would go and hang out in the living room instead, but it’s freezing out there.” Donnacha pointedly rubbed at his arms, despite looking like a big, comfy marshmallow in his hoodie. “I’d rather be in bed.”

“Mmm.” Henry unplugged his extra set of headphones and extended them towards Donnacha.

“You’re a lifesaver, Hen.”

“Don’t get the cord tangled,” Henry said, eyeing the way Donnacha immediately began to twirl said cord around his fingers.

“Who, me?” Donnacha grinned pointedly. His eyes flicked towards Henry’s computer screen. “What are you working on?”

“Just… work.” Henry had no desire to elaborate further. One of the most unfair things about social interaction, he’d always thought, was that there was no such thing as a neutral, concise answer. Concise answers were always misinterpreted, either as annoyed, disinterested, or simply rude.

“It’s kinda late to still be working.”

“I suppose it is.”

“’Kay,” Donnacha mumbled. He held the headphones up a little higher, as though waving goodbye with them. “’Night, then. Thanks.”

“Night.”

Henry turned back to his computer, pulled his headphones back on, and slipped back into his work.

___

The stomach ache crept up on him while he was in a fog of concentration, brows in a semi-permanent frown and eyes straining to keep digital lines and text from blurring. It only occurred to him that he should take a short break when a soft belch rumbled up from the pit of his belly and he tasted the tomato and basil from his dinner – much more clearly now than he had when he was actually eating it.

With his headphones blocking all outside noise, he wondered just how loud the belch had just been. Perhaps Lucy and Cassidy had just had their good time interrupted by an eruption from the depths of Henry’s stomach, and he was none the wiser.

He only worried about that for a nanosecond, though.

“Oh – Jesus, really?” Henry whispered to himself as he sat back in his desk chair.

He cradled his belly lightly with one hand. The pain seemed to slam into him all at once. As someone whose body tended to let him down at the most inopportune moments, Henry wasn’t all that surprised or concerned about the appearance of a stomach ache – but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel severely inconvenienced.

Henry snatched his glasses from his face and rubbed at his forehead, too. He wasn’t sure how massaging his head would help his stomach, but it comforted him a little bit. He glanced up in time to see the streak of light spreading across his computer screen again.

He groaned and ripped off his headphones. “Yeah, what?”

“Uh, thanks for the headphones, but they aren’t enough,” Donnacha declared. “I’m enacting Plan B. Retreating to the living room. Do you want to come watch something, seeing as you’re up, too?”

“Donnacha, I’m working, hon.”

“It’s almost one in the morning!” Donnacha chuckled. He tossed the borrowed headphones onto the bed; Henry couldn’t help but glare at the way the cord was wrapped around the top of the headset, and dread the thought of prising it off. “Come on. We can cuddle for warmth.”

“You want to cuddle me for warmth?” While they were roughly of the same height and general build, Donnacha had considerably more padding for combatting the elements than Henry did.

“Offer’s there,” Donnacha shrugged, shivering openly. “I’ll be out here, turning to ice, if you decide to take me up on it.”

Henry sighed. Why not? Lucy was getting some action; a little bit of human contact – even platonic – might ease the sting of jealousy a bit.

Besides, his stomach was bothering him enough that he knew getting back into any kind of flow would be almost impossible. And getting to sleep with Rita Ora lyrics rumbling through the wall didn’t seem very likely, either.

“Fine,” he mumbled, slipping his glasses back on and reaching for his cane. “But not Top Gun.”

“No?” Donnacha exclaimed unceremoniously. “What about Top Gun: Maverick?”

Henry groaned as the effort of standing up not only made his hip protest, but also sent a vice-grip pain through his abdomen.

Donnacha took the noise as one of protest, though. “Hey, I sat through three of your gibbly films –”

“Ghibli,” Henry murmured. What was up with the people in this household refusing to uphold the sanctity of guhs and juhs? How would Donnacha have liked it if Henry had started calling him precious Tom Hanks movie ‘Top Jun’?

“– So, now, you can whisht up and watch something I like.”

“Okay.” Henry didn’t have the capacity to argue, or to make his Top Jun remark. He was barely even sure he had enough energy to get to the living room without needing to stop and curl up in a ball on the floor. His stomach felt like it’d twisted itself up like Donnacha twisted up headphone cords.

He wasn’t getting up any slower than he usually did when his hip flared up, which meant that Donnacha didn’t notice anything was off. Henry was confused at the mild feeling of disappointment this brought on.

“I’m going to make us some tea,” Donnacha decided, turning to make his way towards the kitchen.

___

Henry declined the tea when Donnacha offered to make him some, unsure of how well it would settle in his stomach at this point. The effort of walking from his desk to the living room sofa had shoved the taste of his dinner back up into his mouth again.

He also decided to forgo any further protest regarding Donnacha’s choice of movie; the boy had made a fair (albeit poorly pronounced) point about allowing Henry to choose the movie three times in a row. Plus, maybe Top Gun would finally help Henry understand the appeal that Donnacha saw in piloting.

Three minutes in, Henry knew he’d made the right decision. (Not regarding the movie; it was already as pompous and self-indulgent as he’d predicted it would be.)

But he’d almost... forgotten how nice it was to cuddle, and he wanted to kick himself for not availing of Donnacha’s company more often during the winter months.

Playing rugby and working out meant that his muscles were taut, but his penchant for comfort foods and snacks kept him somewhat soft. His body was in a perfect state of balance. Just like his ability to juggle his career and his hobbies. His city life and his country soul. His athletic side and his intellectual side.

His willingness to watch Studio Ghibli (subbed, not dubbed, as it should be), and his insistence on making Henry sit through Top Gun.

Henry paid as much attention as he could, but it was hard not to let his mind wander in opposite-extreme directions; he was either distracted by the spate of unfinished work that was still waiting for him in his room, or by the fabric-softener scent of Donnacha’s hoodie.

Donnacha was sitting somewhat crookedly with his back against the arm of the couch, with Henry slotted into the space between the cushions and Donnacha’s torso. One arm was locked all the way around Henry’s shoulders, hand resting near Henry’s elbow. Henry had tentatively rested his hand on Donnacha’s stomach at first, but as he curled in closer, he’d reached across and held him by the waist.

With his free arm, Donnacha sipped on his tea, and Henry was almost convinced his stomach was giving off more and more warmth as he drank, even though he knew that was physically impossible.

He had rubbed Donnacha’s stomach once, when it’d been hurting. Looking back, it was definitely one of those times where Henry’s straightforwardness had, perhaps, made the situation more awkward than it needed to be, but Donnacha had seemed to be okay with it.

Would he do the same for Henry now, if he asked?

His closest – scratch that, only – friend growing up had been Lucy, and while they were always there for one another, she had never exactly been the touchy-feely type. They hugged on occasion, but never spontaneously or for an extended amount of time. And as a kid, Henry had had too many experiences of getting something ‘wrong’ – like taking something they weren’t using right out of someone’s hand, or trying to kiss his friends the way his aunts would kiss him on his cheek, or telling someone he loved them… Doing these things meant that he was rude, weird, creepy.

Since last year, it felt like they had started rewriting all of those ‘rules’, just between the two of them.

Henry swallowed and looked up at Donnacha’s clean-shaven jawline. A familiar, yet unpredictable, pang of guilt rippled through his belly. Since he’d been part of the reason for Donnacha ending his previous relationship, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility towards him. He wondered if that was all this was. Duty. Compensation. Here I am, a consolation prize.

“You okay?” Donnacha asked, noticing his gaze as he took a slurp of his tea.

Henry held his breath and considered telling Donnacha about feeling sick to his stomach. His mouth made a decision before his brain could.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Donnacha smiled, “Good!” and turned his attention back to the movie.

Henry shifted a couple of times during the next hour, adjusting the pressure on his stomach. There was less of a pain there now, which was a small relief until he forced himself to watch the TV screen. The rotating planes and whizzing backgrounds became a little much for Henry’s eyes to cope with.

Henry turned his head as far into Donnacha’s chest as he could without knocking his glasses from his face. Maybe – maybe he could just fall asleep? He found himself wondering if Donnacha would try to carry him back to bed if that happened. The image of his own lanky form being scooped into a bridal carry should have made him snort in derision, but it actually made a lump rise in his throat.

A lump, or... something a little more acidic.

Henry’s eyes shot open. His head felt like it was being swallowed up by the stinging, mouth-watering certainty that things were not okay. A knot of pressure sank to the bottom of his stomach and then took a sharp, upward turn – like water trying to flow down a drain and finding itself being forced back to the surface.

“Donnacha.”

“Yep?”

“I’m going to be sick?”

Henry must have sounded extremely surprised and confused himself, because Donnacha didn’t seem to understand what he’d said at first.

“Something… something I ate is not – hmrph.” Henry shot forward and gagged, almost puking straight onto his pyjama bottoms.

“Shite, where’s the bin?” Donnacha stood up and idly glanced around, clicking his tongue in annoyance. Through teeth that suddenly ground together in annoyance, he muttered, “Payton’s always taking it into their room –”

Henry whimpered as his belly cramped, sending a surge of gurgling, bubbling heat towards his throat. The sound seemed to fill in for the urgency missing in his tone, since it was then that Donnacha truly sprang into action.

“Right – here. Aim onto the blanket for now,” he instructed, grabbing the couch throw and tossing it towards Henry’s lap. He chuckled nervously. “That can go in the washing machine more easily than the carpet.”

Henry nodded, though he had no intention of letting himself vomit onto something that was communal property. Other people used this blanket. He was fairly sure Lucy had paid for it, along with the other random assortment of IKEA pieces in the living room.

Donnacha ran off to the kitchen and immediately started clattering around under the sink. By the time he emerged – mere seconds later – Henry’s chin was streaked with drool from fighting the urge to puke on the throw.

“Here you –”

Henry was already gagging while still in the process of taking the bucket into his hands. He belched forcefully, eyes watering as his pathetic dinner splattered all along the inside of the bucket. There were still lumps of meat, strands of spaghetti, none of it digested beyond Henry’s disinterested chewing.

He tried to draw a ragged breath in between retches, and almost choked for having the audacity. This bucket was used on the rare occasion that someone decided to mop the kitchen and bathroom floors, and it reeked like a pile of old, musty towels.

Henry heaved again.

He was certain his eyes rolled back in his head and that he moaned at one point, as his body curled further and further forward on the edge of the sofa. Like a toothpaste tube being squeezed within an inch of its existence.

And then it stopped, as suddenly as it had started. The relief was so intense that it was almost its own form of pleasure. Henry grimaced at the tickle of laughter that crept up through his chest and throat. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been that violently ill before, and he was so, so glad that it seemed to be over.

For now.

“Hen,” Donnacha said in disbelief, as though he had been waiting for Henry to stop puking before scolding him about it. He handed Henry a tissue that he’d apparently been holding in anticipation. “Your poor belly. What’d you eat?”

Henry dabbed his chin clean, hand trembling horribly. His stomach muscles burned as though he’d just attempted a hundred push-ups. “Just some leftovers.”

“Left over from when? The Last Supper?”

Henry groaned in a feeble attempt to show his dislike for the joke.

“Anyway.” Donnacha rubbed a hand over the bumps in Henry’s spine with one hand, and took hold of the bucket with the other. “We can talk about your bad life choices another time. Try to catch your breath, yeah?”

“Um,” said a voice that wasn’t Lucy’s or Payton’s. “Hi?”

Henry glanced up to see Cassidy standing in the hallway and peering in. She was wearing a plaid shirt of Lucy’s which was not long enough for someone of Cassidy’s height to wear as a nightie.

Shit. Lucy.

Guilt sank its teeth into Henry’s nerve endings. He’d been so distracted, and feeling so god-damn sorry for himself, that he’d almost forgotten Lucy was only a few doors down, likely hearing him purge his guts.

He knew what Cassidy was going to say before she even tried.

“Um,” she mumbled again, tugging the shirt down at the front as though she’d suddenly become conscious of its length. “Lucy is very distressed, and she sent me to ask you if someone is… vomiting?”

From the way she scrunched up her nose and eyed the mop bucket, it seemed as though Cassidy already had her answer.

“Food poisoning!” Donnacha sounded like he was shouting out an answer on Family Fortune. “Tell her it’s – it’s food poisoning. Not contagious in the slightest. That’ll make her feel… well, a smidge better about it.”

Cassidy nodded slowly, as though she understood but… didn’t fully understand.

“Donnacha, by the way. My pronouns are he/him.”

“Hi. Cassidy. She/her.” Cassidy shook herself. “Anyway. Bye, guys.”

“Bye, Cassidy,” Henry and Donnacha both droned, Henry mumbling it miserably through a mouthful of watery spit, Donnacha furrowing his brow and returning to rubbing Henry’s back.

“Are ya alright?”

Henry shrugged. He slowly began to sit back. The thought of letting himself sink into the sofa cushions was pure bliss. How food poisoning managed to affect every inch of the human body – not just the digestive tract, as predicted – he would never know.

“Your poor belly,” Donnacha said again, though his tone wasn’t as interrogative this time. He clicked his tongue sympathetically, and slid a little closer.

He then seemed to realise that Top Gun was still playing on the screen, and he reached for his phone to turn it off.

“Sorry,” he laughed softly.

Henry’s heart skipped a beat when a warm hand slid across his stomach, rubbing back and forth over his bubbling insides. The gesture was so sudden and so casual that Henry barely registered the shift in Donnacha’s actions. It was as natural as a hug, seemingly.

“’Glad you got some of it up,” Donnacha said. “'Least it’s a little bit emptier in there now.”

Henry nodded weakly, entranced by the warmth that Donnacha’s hand seemed to be injecting directly into his organs as he massaged his stomach. He found himself desperately wondering what was going through Donnacha’s head right now, but unable to find the words to find out.

“So…” Donnacha cleared his throat. “Please don’t tell me you ate that dodgy-looking pasta that was sitting in the fridge earlier? Because I swear to the Lord and back, Henry – if you thought that was okay to eat, you are taking the piss, and you need to go back to the optician’s and demand a refund on those new lenses.”

“I was just being lazy,” Henry murmured. “That’s all. Won’t…” He winced, feeling Donnacha’s hand automatically shift across his stomach in response to a sharp cramp. “Won’t happen again. Believe me.”

Donnacha made a noise in his throat – a hum of concern, perhaps, with a healthy dose of scepticism thrown in. He seemed to hesitate for a second before moving his face closer to Henry’s head and pressing a loud kiss into a clump of his hair.

“Hey, listen,” he whispered, stilling his hand on Henry’s belly.

Henry did, holding his breath.

Donnacha raised his free hand to point. “Since they’re not… playing music anymore,” he said, “I guess it means you and me can get some sleep now.”

While Henry had to admit that sleeping off the stomach cramps in his own bed sounded like heaven, ruining his best friend’s night and causing her to have a mild-to-severe panic response seemed like an unfair cost.

“You’re an awful human,” he muttered.

“What?” Donnacha exclaimed. “They’ve had their fun. Hours of it. It’s bed time now.”

Henry reluctantly nodded. His arm automatically lifted as Donnacha shifted his weight and made to put his arm around Henry’s back and help him up. It was a rare feeling, for him to relinquish control of his limbs, even for just a few seconds until he was on his feet and his cane was within reaching distance.

“I’ll give the bucket a rinse-out in the bath,” Donnacha said as soon as Henry was upright and established.

“Hopefully I won’t need it again.” It was a hollow hope, given the rumbling feeling that pressed against the base of Henry’s ribcage. He took a few measured steps in the direction of his bedroom, conscious of the fact that his posture was more curved than usual.

“If you do, I’ll bring Lucy your noise-cancelling headphones.”

A shudder rippled up Henry’s spine at the thought of Donnacha getting his twisty, wrap-happy hands on his good headphones.

“I know you’re joking,” he huffed, “but please don’t touch those. Ever.”

#emeto #sickfic #food poisoning #food poisoning fic #OC sickfic #OC emeto #stomach ache fic #emetophilia #platonic caretaking #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #angst #Lucyverse #Lucyverse Henry

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bebx · 9 months

Note

[Holds a microphone towards you]

What's your opinion on Creelarke? (Scott Clarke & Henry Creel)

anon, I love and adore these two very dearly and I actually wrote a fic about them here. (apologize for the self-promo)

I do plan on writing more about Creelarke in the future, since I still have ideas for them sitting in my to-write list and I’m looking forward to writing it soon. I mean there currently are a lot in that list, but I’m working on getting to them all, so that’s the goals.

anyway, I will always love Creelarke. all these potential and possibilities of them being childhood best friends and Scott being the one who can reach Vecna’s lost humanity is just *chef’s kiss*

or Scott being the one who made Henry’s childhood somewhat tolerable by always helping cheering him up and trying to make him smile even if the rest of their classmates either wanted nothing to do with Henry (as they saw him as a quiet kid who didn’t belong) or always picked up on him (and it was always Scott who came for Henry’s rescue, even if it meant Scott got himself roped into having a beef with the bullies too).

or Henry — now as Vecna, all wounded and bruised up after the battle with Eleven and her friends — going to Scott as his last resort, even if he hasn’t seen Scott in decades (since he was presumed dead), because even after all these years, Henry knows Scott is the only person who’d never hurt him.

or Scott never believing that Henry is dead after the Creel Family Murders, Scott being the one who — despite everything — still believes his Henry is still alive out there somewhere.

Scott keeping wondering why his nightstand lamp suddenly starts flickering on its own every night, almost like something or someone is trying to communicate with him from another realm.

Scott still being able to recognize Henry — now as Vecna — when they reunite at last.

Scott not being disgusted by Henry’s current physical appearance because for him, Henry is Henry. this is still his Henry. and all Scott says isn’t comment regarding Henry’s look but a “you’re alive. I knew it. I knew you’d come back to me.” like??????? ASSDFGGHJKLFAASDFGHJKGSA

my god there’s just so much angst, so much pain and so much potential between them. I’m terribly sorry if I got carried away here, but Creelarke is my ride or die and I will always love them. who needs canon anyway.

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Holland’s Girl

pairing: Boyfriend!Tom x Cavill!Reader

summary: Hi there! I don't know if you still write for Tom Holland but could you do one with him in a relationship with henry cavill's little sister? With the twitter format? Love all your Henry cavill blurbs! (Requested by Anon)

Requests are open!/Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

Full Masterlist, Taglist Form Tom

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@/dutchnesslove: Tom just confirmed his relationship with Y/n Cavill on instagram!! He uploaded a picture of them cuddling in bed and everything, even Tessa was in between them with her head on Y/n's chest

@/HenryCavill: @TomHolland take care of my sister or else our weekend pints will have to stop mate 👍👍

@/Y/nCavill: Omg fuck off Hen, he loves me more than you do🙄

@/britishstarq: Did anyone see the pap video of Tom and Y/n buying groceries?? He pushes her around in the trolley while handing her the stuff from the shelves. Someone save me bc they are just too cute😭

>> @/marveltrick: Ok but did you see the party where Y/n secretly swipes her card to pay for the groceries and Tom literally tackled her into a big hug and tickled her because of it

@/Littlebunbun: Why the fuck are people hating on Tom and Y/n? So what if she isn’t some big time actor? She literally has her own career path in (insert job), she doesn’t need Tom’s money bro☠️

>> @/birdiebye: I know, fans ambushed her outside of her workplace and she had to stay inside and wait for Tom to get her. This is ridiculous. She’s just trying to live her life, she doesn’t need whiney teenagers trying to attack her. No wonder Tom doesn’t like doing lots of autographs in public anymore

@/retrotro: Henry just posted his annual family bbq picture, and just saw Tom sitting on a chair by the fire with Y/n tucked under his jacket with him😭😭 He was kissing her forehead with his arms locked around her and everything

@/beautifillife: In Y/n's first interview she mentioned how she first met Tom at an award show where Henry brought her along as his plus one. She ended up getting lost from Henry during the big rush inside and bumped into Tom, and quotes, “He hasn’t let me go since”

>> @/beautifillife: Don’t even forget when she said that Tom insisted he bring her home because she couldn’t end up finding Henry, AND THEY HAD THEIR FIRST KISS THAT NIGHT. Although feels bad because Y/n said he was so awkward like a little boy with his first crush☠️

@/turusbeixh: Since the lockdown I think Y/n has moved in with Tom, just because Henry posted turning her room in the family home, into storage for his war figurines. Also Y/n has been posting reels on instagram on how to choose the correct colour furniture, and she’s just the cutest

@/TomHolland: @/Y/nCavill Babe please forgive me, I didn’t mean to walk Tessa without you this morning💔

>> @/Y/nCavill: So first I wake up alone in bed, and then I don’t even get to walk my baby. Unforgivable, unless you’ve somehow got a tub of Ben and Jerries with you. And Kisses

>>> @/TomHolland: Don’t worry got lots of kisses for you, in all places

@/pinkputter: In a friend’s youtube video when playing Hide and Seek, Y/n decides to hide on Tom’s lap under a massive blanket, AND THIS MAN DID NOT RAT HER OUT FOR A WHOLE 30 MINUTES. THAT IS LOVE.

@/DailyTelegraph: Teary Tom Holland seen sending off his girlfriend Y/n Cavill at the airport. The young businesswoman is off to start a new branch in Japan, hopefully she’ll be back soon! Reports say 2 weeks!

>> @/tomholland101: You’re tellin me that mans cryin over his girl being gone for two weeks😭

@/user28373792: Tom holland said that he and Y/n can’t share showers often because she actually makes it boiling warm. But he does it anyway because she wants to 😭♥️

@/User29282803: Y/n posted a photo of Tom rubbing her feet, that mans whipped

>> @/twinkletoerz: Remember the picture of

Y/n braiding his hair. Love.

@/Y/nCavill: Why is Tom crying at the airport😭 He literally booked a flight to Japan for two days from now, he’s staying with me until I have to fly home

@/Northfacepole: When is Tom gonna propose, they’ve been together for AGES (3 years) THAT WOMANS FINGER NEEDS A RING!!

>> @/Y/nCavill: Don’t worry babes i’m on it 💪

@/DailyTelegraph: Y/N CAVILL AND TOM HOLLAND ENGAGED! The pair got engaged at the rooftop of a secluded bar in the west of London, Y/n reappeared today adorning a stunning lab created diamond on her ring finger, a smitten blushing Tom by her side. Sources say the superstar got down on one knee after a romantic Italian dinner and asked the question, we can only anticipate the wedding date which is supposedly next Spring!

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @vrittivsanghavi @Tinyelfperson @fdl305 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @stormcloudss @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @aerangi @alina02 @bookfrog242 @alexxavicry

#tom holland one shot #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #romance

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youngpettyqueen · 1 year

Text

Hello I’ve been tagged by @thebreakfastgenie in a fun looking fic game, so here we go!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Here are my 10 most recent fics, from my ao3-

1. “what remains”

“God only knows why BJ is awake at this hour, but he is.”

(A short post-Goodbye, Radar fic where BJ sees something he doesn’t expect, but it doesn’t surprise him)

2. “it’s not chicken soup, but it’s good for the soul”

“Trapper steps through the door to the Swamp quietly, mindful of where he places his feet on the messy floor as he closes the door softly behind him. He pads over to Hawkeye’s cot, still being mindful of his volume, not wanting to startle the bundle of blankets within said cot.”

(Post-Carry On, Hawkeye, in which Trapper takes care of Hawkeye while he’s sick)

3. “a cautionary tale of not paying attention in close quarters”

““Charles, have you seen that letter I got yesterday?” Hawkeye asks, rifling through everything like a mole snuffling through the dirt.”

(Charles accidentally breaks Hawkeye’s nose and he feels bad about it but it’s REALLY funny)

4. “and miles to go before i sleep”

“Hawkeye yelps as BJ drives them right through another pothole, the resulting buck of the Jeep almost throwing him right over the side. He braces himself with one hand on the side and one hand on BJ’s shoulder, gripping his friend tight like he’ll be sent flying if he lets go. Honestly, with the roads as bad as they are and BJ’s unique driving, it’s a fair thought to have.”

(Hawkeye and BJ are lost, injured, and without transport behind enemy lines. Inspired by Comrades in Arms, and my one and only multichapter fic)

5. “like a dog”

“There are days Henry wonders if he woke up a schoolteacher instead of a Lt. Colonel.”

(Hawkeye bites Frank and Henry has to deal with it)

6. “things that cry in the night”

“Hawkeye doesn’t tend to sleep through the night. Hasn’t ever since he was shipped out here. It’s something he usually regards with the same bitterness he regards the rest of the war with- it’s just another way the war has changed him, it’s just another annoyance, the list could go on for miles. Sometimes he wakes up to the night patrol being too loud, sometimes it’s to shelling, to Charles snoring, to screaming, to nothing at all.”

(Hawkeye comforts BJ after he has a nightmare, set a couple days after Where There’s a Will, There’s a War)

7. “a good nurse (friend, a good friend)”

“Margaret is reading in bed when someone knocks on her door. She lowers the book, frowning. She wasn’t expecting any company tonight, and she isn’t due in post-OP until the next morning. She gets up and throws her robe over her pyjamas. Perhaps she’s needed after all- there were a few difficult cases today, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing.”

(Margaret insists a very sick Hawkeye stay with her for the night)

8. “chivalry and bloody knuckles”

““That was a stupid thing you did.” Is the first thing Hawkeye says to him once they’re sufficiently hidden away in the supply tent.”

(BJ punches out a marine to protect Hawkeye, and Hawkeye’s not thrilled about it)

9. “leave your roles at the door”

“It’s Margaret who finds him.”

(Radar goes missing after the OR session in Abyssinia, Henry. Margaret finds him, and comforts him, and sits with some of her own grief as well)

10. “petty vengeances”

“Hawkeye is in one of those moods today.”

(Hawkeye’s been menacing Margaret all day and she gets her revenge- with a little help)

Thanks for tagging me!! Pretty much everybody I would’ve tagged has been tagged, so I’ll leave it open for anyone who wants to hop on!

#mash #fic bitching #scraping in with 12 total fics to my name #sorry if formatting is weird I’m on my phone #mobile has me fighting for my life #I just reread a bunch of my fics hdjdjjcjdjd #so this is timely

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cricketnationrise · 10 months

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Hello hello! Could I get 11:11, the white house, and June for your ficlet fest? Thank youuu ❤️

Of course! I went with a missing moment from canon from the line: "...giving him the same strange look she gave him over coffee the morning after Henry snuck into his room." Hope you enjoy! 💜

want your own ficlet? rules here.

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

white house, 11:11am

June wakes up the morning after the State Dinner a little hungover and supremely comfortable. It’s one part her bed, and one part Nora’s arm slung around her waist, pulling her close in the night. Nora had been almost manic last night after the dinner wrapped, loathe to go back to her apartment in Columbia Heights. June let herself be pulled into Nora’s energy and they’d stayed up way too late watching old episodes of Drag Race and talking about anything and everything.

June would dearly love to close her eyes and go back to sleep, but the sun is falling right across her pillow and she really has to pee. She’s as careful as possible extricating herself from Nora’s hold, trying not to wake her, but Nora pulls tighter and grumbles something unintelligible yet undeniably (and adorably) pissed off into June’s neck.

“Sorry – gotta pee,” June says quietly.

Nora doesn’t open her eyes but does relax her hold – slightly. June slips free and makes her way to the bathroom. She feels more human when she’s done – less like the sludge found at the bottom of a protein shake – and washes her face for good measure. Back in her room, Nora is asleep again, curled up in the covers, clutching June’s pillow close. June can’t help but stare at her best friend looking so at home in June’s bed. There’s a thrill somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach, but June pushes it down. Tells herself firmly that it’s the hangover.

She needs coffee.

June leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her, and heads to the Residence kitchen in search of the life-giving liquid. Unsurprisingly, Alex is there already. What is surprising is that he isn’t slumped over the island groaning in pain like a particularly dramatic and whiny table runner. Instead, he’s texting furiously – his cinnamon-scented coffee still full and obviously untouched beside him.

Something about the sight is strange. Alex is always in motion, mind always racing to the next thing, the next step in the plan, always wanting to be doing. But right now, aside from his thumbs typing away, he’s still – not even a foot jiggling to disturb the aura of serenity. He looks cozy in sweats, his curly hair even more of a riot than they normally are in the mornings. If June had to guess, she’d say her brother looks settled, content to just be in a way she hasn’t seen him since before Ellen ran for President – before the divorce even.

The smile tugging at his mouth throws her for the biggest loop, actually. It’s not his media smile – all teasing and straight teeth. It's not the smile he flashes to staffers and their own mother occasionally. She’s seen all-too-often since New Year’s – the I-have-to-grin-and-bear-it-because-I’ll-drown-otherwise one that makes June want to burn the world down for him.

This smile is small, quiet even, almost as though he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. June hasn’t ever seen her brother smile like that – like he’s so fucking astonishingly pleased with his life he can’t contain it.

Alex eventually puts his phone down to stretch and catches sight of June in the doorway.

“Mornin’, Bug. Coffee’s fresh if you want.” He must have done more talking at the State Dinner than June had noticed – his voice is all raspy. June doesn’t move, still staring at how at home he looks in his own skin. It’s such a dramatic difference even from the night before where he’d literally been bouncing anxiously on his toes in the handshake line.

“June? You awake? You’re givin’ me a weird look.”

She shakes herself mentally, gives him a rueful smile. “Apparently not fully awake yet, Nora and I were up late talking after the dinner.”

“All the more reason for coffee then,” he teases. His phone buzzes again and Alex’s attention is redirected to it in the blink of an eye. Whatever the text is, it has Alex snorting in laughter and responding as quickly as he can. She leans against the counter and watches him over the lip of her own coffee cup. Something changed for him last night; something for the better.

“Oh hey,” Alex’s voice startles her out of her thoughts. “Eleven-eleven, make a wish, June.”

She smiles at him and closes her eyes, wishing hard that whatever is making her brother so happy lasts for a long time.

#cricket writes #ficlet fest 3 #rwrb #june claremont diaz #ficlet #14carrotghoul

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chika-the-terrible · 2 years

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Another Syndicate AU has struck my mind, specifically for Rothfrye, and now I’m gonna subject you guys to it. It’s lengthy and weird, but here it is anyway!

Basically, it starts with Roth as a sculptor in a Modern AU. He’s an actor at night but acting isn’t enough to pay the bills so he has to sculpt things to make a living. One day, Starrick commissions Roth to make a beautiful sculpture of some kind, just as long as it’s good, and so Roth gets this huge stone to work with. He starts carving a figure out of it and then gets another commission from Henry, who’s seen Roth’s other works and also wants a sculpture. Roth accepts but doesn’t know if he can find another block and carve it in time for Henry’s commission. It’s Lewis (Roth’s ex-boyfriend and occasional model) who suggests that Roth splits the block he’s working on. Roth’s already half-finished a woman from one side of the block, it wouldn’t hurt for him to use the rest of it to make her twin, and it also solves the problem with Henry. So that’s what Roth does.

Eventually he has two sculptures, a man and a woman each. The sculpture of the man had a couple of cracks on its face that Roth managed to smooth into scars, so they’re not too discernible. He doesn’t know what names to give them but they’re absolutely amazing, almost lifelike. He even feels a bit drawn to the male one, who he put a bit more work into that with the woman. The man doesn’t look anything like Lewis, either, to which Roth is proud of because he didn’t have to use a model to come up with the face.

These are basically their poses (Man on the left, Woman on the right):

However, the night after the sculptures are finished, something weird happens. Roth’s not sure how, but the next morning, he finds that the fabric covering on the male sculpture, itself also carved from stone, has moved. It’s still hard and hasn’t cracked, it’s just changed positions somehow, like the stone itself moved.

But because sculpting’s really not Roth’s thing, he plays it off as misremembering how he carved it. Henry then stops by, takes one look at the woman, and immediately falls in love. Since Roth wasn’t sure which sculpture would go to which man, he lets Henry keep the woman sculpture. That leaves the man, who is to be kept with Roth until Starrick can come by to examine it and retrieve it, which won’t be for at least a month because of his busy schedule. So Roth’s stuck with the male sculpture.

That night, after he returns from his night job as an actor and goes to sleep, he gets awoken by crashing noises. Grabbing his gun, he goes to investigate and immediately comes across the source of the problem: A couple of clay pots he had been working on had fallen and smashed to pieces. However, they had been knocked over by none other than the male sculpture himself, who was up and walking around like an actual person. Roth is astounded by this turn of events but he doesn’t have long to think about it, as the man looks very skittish. Roth has to calm him down with gentle words and even gentler hands, which manages to work, but the male sculpture is still nervous, and that’s when Roth realizes that he was probably looking for his sister. So Roth tries to call Henry, who sounds absolutely terrified on the other end because he just found the woman sculpture and she looks very much like she wants to punch his lights out. But then the male sculpture uses his finger to tap on a table, which echoes across the line, and the woman taps back excitedly. They can’t speak but they can still understand each other somehow. It’s the best thing that happens that night, as Roth and Henry aren’t sure what to make of the two sculptures that suddenly came to life.

The next morning, it’s learned that the two are kinda like the people in the Night at the Museum movies in that they can’t move or come alive during the day but are fully able to be themselves at night. Roth and Henry don’t know why it’s happened, since it only seems to be affecting the two sculptures, but they know they have to figure something out. Roth especially sets to work in trying to make a new sculpture before Starrick comes calling so that the male sculpture won’t fall into Starrick’s hands.

And, slowly, Roth and Henry learn more about their mute friends and slowly fall in love. They try not to, being as the sculptures are just beings of stone that have nothing to them otherwise, but it happens anyway. And the sculptures show in their own ways that they have the capacity to love and they love the men right back.

#my post #assassin’s creed #assassin’s creed syndicate #ac syndicate #assassinscreedseries #rothfrye #maxwell roth #jacob frye #henry green #jayadeep mir #evie frye #henvie #sculpture AU

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pxincessofcolorwriting · 8 months

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If and Only

January 31, 1510

Katherine’s labor is progressing slowly. It is her first, and no one, not even her, expected it to be easy. A nursemaid wipes the collection of sweat building on her brow. The room smells like an apothecary’s dream but all she can focus on is the pain. The excruciating pain of bringing a child into life. She feels as though she being torn open from the waist down. All she wants is her mother. She feels the sensation to push, just as midwife told her. She bends her knees under the thick covers and blankets of her bed. One of the maids pulls back the covers at the end of the bed to check her progression of her labor, and she wants to scream that she knows it’s time to push and wants to push.

Push…push…push. She moves herself up on her elbows, begging and hoping that it was time. “Your Majesty, it is time.” Thank you, God. Her nurses bring her out of bed to the groaning chair, and this situation becomes more realized to her. The danger she was in; the danger the child in her belly was in. She roughly fall into the chair and widens her legs as a maid gets between them, ready to catch the heir that resides within her body. She bears down and that sensation of being torn apart only intensifies. The harsh pain her mother and her sister had gone through stays at the forefront of her mind; the pain Henry’s mother, and even grandmother, is at the forefront of her mind. How did they do this? Think of the prize at the end. “Push down, milady,” one of the midwives said, “Just push down”. Katherine gripped the arms of the chair and push down. Down, down, down. A nurse wipes the sweat from her forehead with cool water as she keeps pushing. She pauses to catch her breath during the relaxation of her muscles, and then pushed down on the next contraction. She pushed, she pushed, and then finally she felt something fall from her and the pain was over.

The nurses wrapped as wiped off the child as it began to wail loudly. Katherine was so relived to hear the cry and she slumped in the chair. “The babe? What is it?”

“A girl, Majesty,” the nurse says nervously, aware that girls weren’t always accepted immediately as a boy due to the matters of succession.

“A beautiful girl,” Katherine says, still catching her breath from her labors. “A precious jewel.” She held her hands out. “Let me see her. Please. Please allow me to see my daughter.” The nurse wrapped up the child and walked carefully to the chair and handed the baby to Katherine. She held the baby in he arms, trying to soothe it and was in awe as the baby calmed. She held the baby’s hand while holding the child in her arms. Ten fingers, ten toes. “A Tudor rose.” She kissed the baby’s forehead. “A precious Tudor rose.”

January 1st, 1511

—

Her next pregnancy was smooth uneventful. There was no fear that she might have lost the child early in the beginning and fear that her belly was no longer full. She goes into labor the night right before the end of the year. She thinks of her first child, her daughter, and her husband, the king, as she lies in the bed. She hasn’t seen them since her confinement. She hasn’t see anyone but her team of nurses and midwives during her confinement. It was relieving to see the people she considered friends. She still wished her mother was here to help her, guide her through this pain. How in God’s name did she do this so much and so often? This time she recognized when it was time for the baby was ready to be introduced to the world. “Quickly, help me to the chair.” She throws her thick covers off of her then reaches out to one of the women in the room. “I know this time. It’s time for him to join the world.” She didn’t know for sure it was a boy; she only hoped. They needed a boy, to secure the line. Conversely, though, her mother, a woman, secure Castille and was a warrior woman. Women weren’t fragile little flowers and unable to defend themselves. But Henry wanted a boy, and she loved Henry. She wanted to give him what he wanted. If that was a boy to secure a Tudor line, then she must have a boy.

She’s not sure if her labors are easy because it is following the rest of her pregnancy or because this is no longer her first. It still hurts and still feels like she’s torn but it’s somehow still able to manage the pain. She falls roughly into the birthing seat and spread her legs. She was past the modesty. She pushed down and paused once the contraction ended. God, let this child live like my first, she thought, and let me survive this. Everyone was aware of the risks of childbirth, even her husband’s own mother succumbed to it. She pushed down again. This was war. War of her own, but war nonetheless. She relaxed after a long contraction, catching her breath. She waited for the next and pushed down again.

“I can see the child.” The midwife looked up at her and nodded, a silent message that this was almost over and another child will be added to the Tudor line. “One last time, a big push.”

Katherine pushed down one last time and felt the child slip out of her just as her first did. “It’s a boy! It’s a boy! A New Years boy!!” The nurse said as she excitedly wiped off the child before passing him to his mother’s waiting arms.

“A New Years a boy. A New Years Henry.” Her husband and her already agreed that if it was a boy, he would be called Henry. If a girl was born, Elizabeth, after his mother. She rocked the child gently, calming the baby. She kissed his forehead and continued her motion. She was now a mother to two children. Two beautiful children.

—

September 17th, 1512

Isobel and Henry were both young. If anything bad happened and went wrong, they wouldn’t as scarred by her death as Henry was of his mother’s. She rubs her round belly as she was in her bed. Even with the contractions, she feels this child moving around, preparing to be born.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?”

She nods a minimal nod. “Just thinking, as any expectant mother would.” She rubs her belly again during a mild contraction and winces. The pains were getting stronger and she was mentally preparing to welcome her third child in less than two years. A boy, a bouncing boy at that, a young prince. She knows it’s a boy but didn’t tell anyone other than Lina, the one who helped her determine gender. She still remembers how Lina suggested the idea, one that was passed down and of some reliably, but rarely used, of taking her chamber pot and mixing it with barley and wheat seeds, and the relief she felt when the wheat sprouted. Another prince, she thought. She hadn’t told the King; she wanted to surprise him and didn’t want have him be relived and she, or they, were wrong. She knows Henry is with the children and nervous, trying to keep them but mostly himself, distracted as they waited. And that’s what this is. Waiting. Waiting…Waiting…. The pains of her labor come closer together and she knows that it’s time to meet her latest child. This is not her first experience but she is preparing for whatever God brings her to bring this newest life into the world. A child to her precious children. This time the nursemaid doesn’t have to tell her to move to the groaning chair. She recognizes when the contracting in her body moves close enough together that it is time to meet her son. Her baby boy. She has hunched her plain nightgown around her waist quickly between contractions when she feels that she still has control of her own body. She knows her battle has begun: the one that a lot of women in her time undergo. She thinks of her own mother and thinks of how she managed all those times. To be fruitful and the symbol of Spanish fertility. But her mind also think of her husband’s mother. She, too, was a woman who was fruitful, and she was taken from this world engaged in the same task.

“Your Majesty, please,” one of the midwives say, bringing her back to the task at hand. Another nurse dabs her forehead, wiping away sweat. “You’ll need to push soon.”

“Katherine, we are all here with you.” Lina wraps her arm around her and clutching her hand with her free one. “But you have to push.”

Katherine nods quickly, red hair moving about her face. The pain is the part of this process that Katherine knows but still seems to unprepared for how the pain wrenches her body. She throws her head back as a powerful contraction forces her to push. “Lina!”

“I know, I know.” She moved behind her so she can support her head. “I know, Katherine.” She takes the cloth from the nurse maid and dabs at her forehead. “Push; you must push. The baby is almost here. Your boy is almost here.”

“My boy is almost here,” Katherine repeats before screaming out and pushing downward again. “My boy is almost here.”It’s a chant for her. “My boy is almost here.”

“Yes, Katherine, he is almost here. You have to push my friend. Push.”

Katherine presses down with the all the strength in her body, of the strength that resides within her, from her family line. She feels the child slip from her body and slumps, knowing that he has fallen into waiting arms. She waits for his cry and panics when she doesn’t. “Does he live?” she asked. “Please tell me that he lives.” She watches a midwife takes to wash him and clean him, and hears a strong cry from the babe. Her body relaxes and slumps in the chair. She was so tired that she could hardly move.

Lina recognizes how tired her friend, her Queen, is. “Come, Katherine, to the bed.” They have to wait for the rest of what is attached to the baby to fall through, but Lina knows a way to position so, gravity still aids. She knows how tired her friend is, and how once she sees her son the only she’ll want to do is sleep and rest. The baby is now make slight noises but has ceased crying. “Your Majesty, it’s another boy,” the midwife says quietly with excitement.

“Another Tudor prince.” Katherine holds the child, rocking him gently. “A Tudor prince. I shall tell you so much, of your grandmothers and grandfathers, and stories of your father too.” His small hand wraps around her finger and she smiles.

“You did so well, Katherine.” Lina says as she looks down at the scene of her friend and her newest child. “He is a beautiful boy.”

“Thank you, Lina, for everything.”

November 1514 Katherine is enjoying an orange piece when her labor starts. She grips the table where she is sitting near with what seems to be with all her strength. She has been sealed away for her Confinement, and all of this time had built to this moment. She let out a few harsh breath. “Katherine?” Lina asks, nearing her queen slowly.

“Lina, my time is here. My child is coming.” This isn’t her first babe, but the fear of bringing life into the world still terrified her. The baby could die or be still born. She could die. This was a battle itself, much like the wars and rebellions Henry faced. “Let me help you,” Lina said, leading her to the chair that she has been sitting at more than once now.

“Oooh.” Katherine hunches downward, grabbing the foot board of the bed that she been sleeping in the last month. To bring life into this world was pain, but this was excruciating. She sees the midwife preparing the concoction that has recently been developed by the most skilled physicians to aide the mother in birth. Drinking anything is the last thing on Katherine’s mind. She can’t imagine to trying to swallow anything. She flops into the birthing chair, nearly knocking it over and causing it to lift lightly before returning to its position on the ground. She quickly yanks at the night gown she is in and sees blood. “Lina!”

“Katherine,” Lina says softly, trying to comfort her friend. “Blood doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong. Remember there was a little blood after you last child left its home in the womb. Katherine turns to her only other true friend: Maria de Salinas. Her gaze moved between the two women. “Will he die? Please don’t let him die. I couldn’t stand it if he died.” Her heart would break if she lost her son. She has yet to lose a child but she knows that is only through God’s mercy. She thinks back to when Henry’s, her Harry, mother died. She was in the room, near the back. She watched as the physicians and mid wives worked on her and with her. She saw the small baby leave her, and how it didn’t breathe. She saw how Margaret Beaufort crossed herself, sending the unnamed and unchristened child into the afterlife. What was the most frightening was the days after.

It was his mother not improving, in fact, she was getting worse. Every day she look paler and sicker, sweaty and sunken. They said it was an infection and she never recovered. Would that her own end? Would she leave this life, leaving Henry alone with their heirs?

One of the midwives works her way between Katherine’s open and spread legs. She kicks and let’s out a battle cry when the contraction hits her. She knows once the child is here, relief will rush through her. But now, now it is nothing but pain and more pain. Please don’t have him die; he can not die. Another midwife wipes her forehead with warm water. “Is it almost time?” she asked the other midwife with an urgency. Labor was rough in these times, and the sight of blood could nothing but it also could be everything.

“My Lady, on the next one push.” The contraction is once again a drowning wave of pain, but it did not stop Katherine from bearing down with all her might. She feels sure despite the midwife’s protest that the child hasn’t moved. She leans backward, catching her breath and waiting, hoping the next one doesn’t come too soon. She want to meet her boy but the pain is like no other that she has experience in her previous pregnancies, even her first.

The midwife has one hand between her legs to guide and grab the baby when it leaves her body. “Maria, Lina, please.” She holds her hands out, needing her two closest friends to grab them. Without more of a word, the two women latch onto a hand each. “You can do this Katherine. We believe in you,” Lina says in a heavy accent. “We will get this baby out.”

She throws her head back as she pushes, a scream erupting from her body. There was a tightness present and she knows from her previous pregnancies that the baby is crowning. This was always the most painful part. She stops when the contraction ends and blows out air after taking in large gulps of air. Contraction. She bears down. Contraction bears down. She grips her friends’ hands, tightening when she pushes. “Only a little more, Your Grace,” the midwife says. “There is just a little more to go. Then your child is here.” Katherine knows she says “child” or “baby” as general terms in case the child isn’t a prince. She knows there are times where a family is hoping for son, only to be disappointed when the baby was born. A contraction pulled her from her thoughts. Maria wipes the sweat from her forehead with a warm rag with a free hand. “Only a little more, my dear queen. Then you shall meet this new life.”

“A boy for the Tudor line.”

“A boy for the Tudor line,” Maria and Lina both speak as encouragement.

Katherine bears down and feels a sensation of something exit her but still the present of pains.

“The head is out, Your Majesty. Just a little bit more. I promise you.”

Katherine gives one more excruciating, long push and feels the baby slide from her body. She slumps into the birthing chair, still holding her friends’ hands. She breathes heavy as the midwives take the baby and clean it. Before she can even ask if it lives, she hears the harsh cry from the baby. Strong lungs, she thought, Thank God. “What is it?” A harsh breath. “Please tell me, pray God, what is it?”

“A Tudor prince,” one of the ladies brings the cleaned baby to her.

“A boy. A precious boy.” She holds her son, releasing her grip from her friends hands. “A Tudor prince.” She was blessed by God with another son. Another heir for her husband. “Tell the King; he must know that we are the parents to another sweet boy.” One of her ladies does a deep curtsy before exiting the confinement room, presumably to carry on Katherine’s message. “I know his name.” She rocks and soothes the crying child. “John.” She kisses his forehead. “Precious John.” She looks up to Maria and Lina. “After my dear brother. Prince John.”

February 18, 1516 This pregnancy is smooth the entire time, even going into confinement is easier than her others. “Mama, must you really go?” The child lays its head against her heavy stomach. “Can you not stay with us a little longer?”

Poor child. “Yes, my love. But it shall go quickly, and I shall see you and have a new brother or sister with me.” She knew, technically, that she was a promise that she could not necessarily keep. She been blessed to survive thus far. But she is confident. She is still pretty young and in her optimum time to produce children. She brushes her child’s her head and plays in their soft red hair, a gene that was passed from both of them. “I am still your mother and I shall see you as soon my time is over.”

They are playing cards in her confinement room when she feels the first contraction. She pauses, grabbing her stomach.”

“Your Grace?”

“I think baby should come soon.”

“Do you need to go into the chair now?” It was from one of her younger ladies; one that has yet to deal with the event of childbearing. This will be her first birthing of a child.

“Not yet. They’re still slow.” She gives a gentle smile. “Here, let us finish our game.”

All of the ladies pick up their cards with trepidation and continue to play, keeping one eye on the queen and another on their hand. They’re slow to play, and check in with her every time her breathing increases and is sharp.

The contractions are closer together at this point, but Katherine still feels she has a little time. She drinks small sips of a tonic that the midwives help with the birthing process. One that would manage the pain and aid her with the delivery.

She breathes heavily through one of her contractions and counts how far apart they are. These of child bearing taught her certain things. One of them being how the measurements of the pains needed to be a certain duration apart before she push to bring the child into the world from the safe area of her womb.

She sips the concoction and it tastes absolutely terrible. But it doesn’t matter how it tastes. She needs to drink it, and she knows that the midwives will complain and urge her until she does.

She feels a kick during rest period of her contractions. “Apparently, this child wants to be the world as much as we want them to.” Katherine hold her stomach, feeling the contraction that came through her body and the tightness she felt beneath her hand.

They were coming together now, closer and closer, and Katherine knew her time to push was near. She puts herself into the groaning chair. There is no blood like in her last pregnancy, just the residue of the water-like substance when the contractions started. She’s actually relieved for it. She can push without worry about the child.

She grips the handles so tightly when a strong contraction hits her that her knuckles turn white briefly. It was soon getting ready for her push the child out. She watches the midwife raise up her night shift up to her thighs. “Your almost ready, Your Grace.” The midwife says this with excitement and Katherine can tell that she is newly trained. This must be her first time attending to a queen. Katherine trusts her even though they just met. Her other midwives present wouldn’t have trusted her with such a delicate matter if that were the case.

The next contraction takes Katherine’s breath away and it’s a wonder she didn’t scream. Maybe she really was getting use to this. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t want it over soon. “Please tell that it’s time to push now.”

“Just a little longer, Your Majesty.” The new midwife checks again and then has her superior check behind her.

“Yes, just a little longer. We want to make the sure the child came out safely.

Katherine’s head fell backward in irritation. God, please, I beg to let this child out of me quickly and also safe and healthy. “With the next one, you push.” Katherine is pulled from her thoughts and breathes, huffing. “Push!” She bears down as hard as she can. This feels like this is the hardest she directed her energy toward birthing. She breathes when the contraction subsides. “You’re doing beautifully.”

Katherine pulls the scented and cleaned air that flows through the room. She feels the contraction about to come, and leans forward, taking a deep breath. She pushes while groaning. She falls back; she’s already tired, exhausted even. She knows once the child’s head is out, that she only had to push a little bit more before she would meet her child.

A contraction rolls through her body and she pushes down with it. “Keep going, m’lady.” She can tell that the baby is almost here because the midwife already has her hands out to catch the babe.

She thinks of her children, of Henry, of how they both need her. After one last reprieve, she bears down with all her might, thinking of their family. She feels the child slide from her, and immediately hears a cry. The nurses wipe the child clean with her crying the entire time.

The baby is brought to Katherine, and she holds the baby against her. She moves the towel and sees that she just had a daughter. “A Tudor rose.” She rocks the baby while shushing. “We shall call you Mary.” She bounces the child gently. “Sweet Maria of England.”

November 9th

"She is kicking so hard today,” Katherine said as she rubs her large stomach. She knows the time for her is coming soon. She is already in her confinement, leaving her other children to be cared for by their nurses, maids, and Henry. Sweet-loving Henry. She knows that he hopes for another boy for the nursery but he has been satisfied with his two sons.

The all familiar pain causes Katherine to grip the table she’s sitting near. She is in just her nightdress. Her body relaxes and it gives her a chance to breath.

“Your Majesty? Is the babe? Is it coming early?”

“It’s nothing,” Katherine replies. “Just false pains.” She begins to stand. “If I sleep, it will be better, for all of us.” She gives a smile, one that in is slight pain.

“Are you sure I should call the midwife or doctor, Highness?”

“No, not yet. I still have a few weeks.” She attempts to stand up but a sure of pain grips her, causing her to almost fall to the floor, only being saved by a lady.

“Your Majesty, pardon me, but I think the baby does not care about your few weeks.”

“But it is too early.” She’s hurried stories of babies dying because they came too soon. Even her husband’s mother had her last baby come too soon and she watched as the child only a few hours. Would this child be the same? She and Henry had been lucky that their children lived. However, that could always run away from them.

“Fetch the midwives,” the same lady says as she prepares Katherine for the groaning chair. The other women locked in the room with them immediately stop what they’re doing and scurry for the door.

Katherine has done this before, but it’s still been terrifying each round. The baby could die. She could die. She was older now. The risks were far greater. “My rosary, please.” She pants. “My rosary.”

Her lady heads toward the night stand, picking up a black beaded rosary with a silver cross on it, and handing it to Katherine, letting her kiss it. Katherine wraps the rosary around her fist and already feels the urge to push when the door swings open with two midwives following behind. “Your Majesty, the baby comes?”

Katherine nods while a contraction seems to hit her entire body at once. She feels the urge to push, and follows through on it. “Please help me,” she pleads. I do not want the baby to die; I do not want to die. She reaches out panicked. The lady with whom she was just talking grabs her hand.

“We are here with you, Highness.” She claps her hand tightly. “Do not worry. We are with you.” Katherine nods as the midwife raises her nightdress around her thighs.

Katherine feels warm liquid leave her body and fall on the floor. “Your water broke, Your Majesty,” the midwife said, “Your babe is on its way.” Katherine nods quickly, giving into the need to push without direction. The other midwife is preparing for the child is out.

She leans back into the chair to breathe and regain her strength. She thinks that should be easier with each child right before another contraction controls her body. She pushes, and pushes, and pushes. “Please. Please. Please,” she says softly.

She pauses again, breathing heavily. “I see the head,” the midwife says. She’s trying to give her the urge to push and finish this but she’s already tired. She just wants to rest and stop this. Another contraction a few minutes later and Katherine pushes with all her might, the strength causing her lean forward. She feels the baby fall from her and watches as she slides into the midwife’s arms. The cord is quickly cut and she takes the baby over to other side of the room where it is to be clean.

“Does it live? Please tell me it lives,” Katherine says as her forehead is being wiped. She hears a gurgle then a strong cry and she feels her entire relax. She watches as they wrap the baby up.

“It is a girl, Your Majesty,” the midwife says as she hands her the baby.

“A girl,” she says with excitement, taking the baby. She looks at her newborn. “A sweet Tudor princess. Hello, my love.” She rocks her slowly. “We shall call you Katherine.”

Katherine felt protected. All of their children had. Henry had two heirs to his throne. She had done her duty as a daughter of Spain and a daughter of England. She and Henry were never stronger. All had ended so well, for her and for their countries.

#katherine of aragon #Henry viii #the tudors #fanfic #the Spanish princess #catherine of aragon #the six wives of henry viii

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