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warnersister · 4 months

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How the Peaky boys react when you tell them you don’t want children (and they do) -> headcannon📽️🎞️

Tommy🪖

🪖He almost thought he hadn’t heard you. He was driving you both back from a family event in which his nieces and nephews had attended, momentarily leaving you throughout the evening to bond with the young children and get you accustomed to the toddler-side of motherhood, subconsciously assuming that you winked be pregnant with your first by the beginning of autumn this year.

🪖“So, did you enjoy spending time with the children this evening?” He asked, flicking the dead bluntness of his cigarette out of the window, satisfied with the nicotine intake he had received. “Yes they’re lovely, parents must have their hands full.” You say, agreeing with his comments on their admirability.

🪖He put his hand quite far up your thigh and smirked, taking his eyes away from the dirt road momentarily. “When would y’ like to start trying for one of us own?” He asked, expecting excitable gasps but all he could hear was a deafeningly tense silence as you almost wordlessly rejected his question.

🪖“Well?” He creased his brows. You looked away and out of the passenger reader “I hadn’t put much thought into it.” You speak small and quiet, presumably nervous to hear his response. “Well we can start trying as soon as we get home, how’s that sound?” He suggested, lightly tapping your thigh to which you squirmed in the leather seat uncomfortably. “Tommy I don’t think I want children.” The car was suddenly lurched sideways and you were grateful the road was private so your husband was unable to cause a crash. “You what?” He asked, car now stationary and his body turned towards you; understandably dominating the situation.

🪖“I don’t want to be a mother.” You say again, voice a bit more quiet this time but still trying to maintain your confidence in your decision. Tommy examined your face to try find some humour, that you were joking with him. “What do you mean you don’t want to be a mother?” “Well Ada gave me her child and I just didn’t want to hold it” “her” he corrects. “Her. I don’t have any maternal instincts I felt nothing, no admiration, no desire, no want. All I wanted was for Ada to take her baby away.” You tell him, spinning the wedding ring on your finger and biting your lips nervously. “No one knows what to do, no one knows how to handle children” he says, assuming you’re just scared “it’s normal to be scared or apprehensive. Heard that’s just a part of parenthood” he restarted the engine.

🪖“Thomas-” “we’re trying for our child when we get home and that’s final.”

Alfie🧸

🧸You owned a bakery; where you and Alfie had met - he’d walked in off the street one day and surprisingly, you must’ve been the only person in Camden not to recognise him. You’d simply greeted him with a large grin, excited to get a customer while he chatted with you and admired the adrenaline fuelled step as you dashed around your little shop - enjoying the appearance of your youth, definitely him being notable few years your senior. He’d ordered some treats, you even had some treats to offer Cyril who you’d asked wait outside for hygiene reasons. “This, yeah, this thing love, it’s bloody lovely it is… hands of an angel you have” he’d charmed, praising your baking abilities as he enjoyed your bakes. Admiring the blush on your cheeks as he serenaded you with words.

🧸He’d left that day leaving you with a sum heftier than the goods had actually been valued at and promised to return. And return he did, every day without fail at 10 in the morning to treat himself and his pup, offering reiteratively to teach you to make some Jewish deserts as the religious population in London was growing. Until the day you’d agreed, both in the back while you were simultaneously running out to greet customers and back to Alfie. You were kneading dough when you heard the bell chime “you’ve really gotta get your fingers in love, yeah, I’ll show you yeah” and he’d towered over you from behind you guide your hands through the mixture. Then a baby’s cry. “I’ll be back.” You say, hurrying out to greet your guest.

🧸A woman stood with a newborn in pram, looking over your selection. The baby wailed. “Can I help you lovely?” You asked with a gentle smile, not noticing Alfie leant against the doorway behind you, sleeves rolled up and caked in flour as he watched you engage with the customer. “Yes, I’d like-” the baby cried louder “erm” she was evidently frantic, opting to pick the baby up and try to sooth him.

🧸“Oh im sorry i cant think straight.” She apologised, cringing at the noise from the baby. You inhaled, not believing what you were about to do. “How about you pick something, and eat it in and I’ll hold him for you to give you a rest.” You suggested and he nodded almost too quickly. Choosing a dessert and you swapped the sweet treat for money and the babe.

🧸You bounced the young child on your hip as he cooed, enamoured by the new face and was now too distracted to cry. The mother relaxed into a chair in front of the counter and savoured the moment of peace, eventually taking the sleeping boy back and leaving incredibly grateful, Alfie almost unable to contain his love protruding from his chest as you turned back around to continue baking. “Back to work” you joked, walking past him to continue on the dough.

🧸“You’d be a great mummy, y’know sweetness?” He muttered, suggestively. You huffed slightly. “Perhaps” your lips pursed and he stopped you kneading. “What’s ’perhaps’ mean, poppet?” He asked you. “Well I just don’t think I want to be a mum.” The man laughed, assuming you were joking. “What do you mean you don’t want to be a mum? I’m getting old now treacle, I’ve not much time left to have little ones and I’d want them to be yours.” He said, holding your hands in his as you refuse to meet his pleading eyes. “Maybe. Not yet.” You mumble, trying to return to work.

Arthur🍺

🍺Arthur had Finn on his shoulders, drunk off his head as he happily paraded his young brother around the Garrison as the party of success roared, Arthur having one too many to drink and now easily excitable.

🍺Finn was happily playing along, bouncing on his brother’s shoulders and clapping to the music drowning out in the background, enjoying the attention he was receiving from the majority of the pub’s inhabitants. Arthur saw you watching the ordeal, bounding over to you to plant a smiley kiss on your lips and you reach up to ruffle Finn’s hair, hidden under your husband’s cap.

🍺“Could have one just like this, what d’ya say love?” He asks, grinning ear to ear but expression faltering when he saw the distaste written all over your own face. He gently took Finn off his shoulders who ran over to John, who processed to spin the body around - scolded by his own wife for nearly pulling the undeveloped youth’s arms off his body.

🍺“Our own little one?” Arthur suggests. You shake your head, small smile. “Not when you keep coming home in a state like this.” You say and his face drops entirely now, sobering up enough to understand the ultimatum you were offering him.

🍺“I will not have children when you come home every day too drunk to think. I will not let our child see his mother carry his father up the stairs because he forgot how to use his own two legs.” You say, pecking your husband’s cheek and offering a disappointed smile before you wondered off to find Polly.

🍺Arthur pondered your words for a moment, before pulling you and grabbing you back towards him, falling to his knees as he promised for stay sober, to get off the drink, he just wanted you to bear him a child.

John🥃

🥃You and John had just gotten married, a marriage you were both unaware of until you were knelt at the alter but still - the two of you had just gotten married and the wedding bells were playing. Neither of you could say you were annoyed with the outcome of this arrangement, neither finding the other unattractive and prepared to attempt to progress in this diversion of your lives.

🥃The reception was a grand festivity, dancing, drinking, celebrating and toasting to the pact and ceasefire between two rivalling families with conflicts decades old. You and John had your dance, him whispering sweet nothings into your ears as if he’d known you all him life and you’d just giggled and blushed and required his advanced with a giddy look upon your faces - like two teenagers in love.

🥃As the evening died down and you’d been escorted to your shared accommodation to last you the night, you finally had a moment of peace and clarity to be able to come to terms with the events of the day, after all, a mere 24 hours ago you were a single maiden merely dreaming of your eventual wedding to a man you’d become enamoured with someday, not a gangster peace pact, but there you stood; having assistance unzipping your dress from your husband John Shelby.

🥃He kissed along your shoulders, to your neck, spinning you around to eventually kiss your lips and continue to consummate your marriage. “How many kids you thinkin’ the ? Five? Ten?” He asked as you lay naked in his arms, a hand drawing gentle cyphers into your skin. “None.” You whisper and his drawings halt and he pulls away from you slightly to be able to look right at you. “That’s not gonna work w’me love. Wanna be dad.” He said, studying the expression on your face. “It’s not that I don’t want to be a mum,” you say - averting his gaze but he caught your chin and drew you back to be unable to look anywhere but him. “But,” he encouraged you to continue. “But my grandmother died in childbirth, as did my own mother. And my sister is coming to the end of her pregnancy and it isn’t looking positive for her either. I don’t want to leave my children without their mummy and my husband without a wife.” You almost whisper, voice cracking as tears gathered in your eyes. John drew you in to offer you a tight and reassuring embrace. “Is it hereditary?” He asked after a while and felt your head shake against his bare torso. “I don’t know. Either genetic or just bad treatment.” You stay in silence for a moment.

🥃“But I’d be willing to try if being a dad means that much to you.” You say, peering up to your new husband whose eyes soften at the admittance. “Well I’ll tell you what, if it was bad treatment no woman of mine would lift a finger while pregnant. You’d stay in bed and I’d cater to your every need, carry you to wherever you need to go. Pay for the best doctor and the best hospital to make sure my woman and my child both leave the hospital alive and well.” He leant his forehead against yours. “I’ll take good care of you if you let me.”

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie always wanted to be a father. Be a dad. Raise his children the true gypsy way with his wife by his side - let them in the audience when they’re old enough to appreciate his fights, falsely tussle with them and let them win as he begged them for mercy and heard their victorious giggled. Oh he couldn’t wait for the day you’d bear his umpteenth child. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

🥊And when he joined the Blinders, he’d fallen head over heels for the young florist who worked tirelessly across the road from the Garrison, carrying Arthur home as Harry locked up shop and he’d still see you working on a bouquet you’d needed for a client the following day. He admired your work ethic and the old fashioned part of him couldn’t help but imagine you working as furiously in a kitchen while you tickled your children for interrupting your cleaning. You’d make a fine wife in his eyes.

🥊And against no wish of his own, one day Isaiah had forced the young lad into the shop with a laugh and you’d peered up at him form over the counted, cutting the final stem off of the roses you were working on before asking how you could be of assistance and you’d be lying if your breath hadn’t caught in your own throat, also - seeing him to-ing and fro-ing from the Garrison with the rest of those Blinder lads and finding his look rather endearing.

🥊“How can I help you?” You asked with a stressed but gentle expression on your face. “How much do you make an hour?” He asked. “I beg your pardon?” You retort, eyebrows creasing at the nerve of the man and you began to question whether your initial judgement was correct.

🥊“Sorry, no, I meant how much would it cost me to steal you for a few hours for a date without you loosing profit?”

🥊And the rest was history.

🥊He’d taken you to his fights, to restaurants, to his home with the travellers, even to a couple of family meetings as you’d already been acquainted with the Shelby men buying apology flowers for their spouses for coming home battered and bruised with no contact for a few days.

🥊It was a Tuesday, business was slow but you still had a few orders to finish and being not-bust himself, Bonnie was there to offer a helping hand to his lady. The door chimed but you couldn’t see anyone, confused; you leant over the counter to see a young boy, no older than seven stood there. “Please may I have a flower for my mummy? She’s very sad.” The boy pouted. You hummed. “What flower would you like to give your mummy?” The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out two coins, a button and some lint “whatever flower this may get me, if you please miss.” You nod and hand the boy a small bouquet of daisies with a bow to hold them together. The lad grinned and thanked you, offering you his pocket change and you shook your head. “All you owe me is your mummy a smile.” You say and he promises, running back out of the shop.

🥊Bonnie came up and hugged you from behind, leaving a long kiss on your cheek. “You’re awfully good with children, darling girl” he compliments and you scoff. “Yeah sure.” You roll your eyes and go back to your previous activity. And Bonnie’s dream world came crashing down around him as he realised your intentions.

🥊“What? Don’t want little ones?” He asked, keying as to why you’d be unable to offer him an heir. “No because I can’t deal with sick, I can’t deal with whining, I can’t deal with crying and I can’t even take care of myself for crying out pigs. How do I take care of a child?” You shake you head, as if the man was daft.

🥊“But with our child, it would be different.” He says and you look up at him noting the sincerity and desperation in his look. “Maybe when we’re married or something.” You disregard. He shakes his head. “Why not now?” “I have a flourishing business and I’m not just leaving it all to be a wife and mother and traveller.” You say, inhaling sharply and he frowns. You will come around eventually. He bargains with himself mentally.

Isaiah♟️

♟️You and Isaiah were upstairs in the Shelby household, getting a few moments of blissfulness together before the rest of your family returned. Especially your twin Finn, who was still unknowing about the blossoming relationship between you and Isaiah.

♟️Isaiah was kissing all up your body, a starved man delving hungrily at his first meal in weeks, leaving piercing bite-sized bruises in places for his eyes only. Places he’d see when he’d draw you a bath after you’d finished doing the Devil’s bidding in your frequenting sinful tango.

♟️The boy thrust into you at a desperate pace, eager to fuck you out in a matter of minutes and prove just how desperate you could be for him, just how quickly he could make you cum under the pressure from his cock and his thumb rubbing quick circles around your clit, mouth silenced by his own as he kissed you passionately.

♟️He pulled back, clawing his fingers into your hips as though you were trying to get away from him - but if anything you were trying to get closer, go reach that release you so desperately craved. “Going to fuck my baby into you. Fill you full with my child.” He promised, thrusting deep and skilfully. You shook your head. “No Isaiah.” His pace didn’t falter but he looked up at you, grabbing your jaw and squeezing your cheeks as if fucking you dumb. “No?” “No.” You say between smushed cheeks. “Don’t want no kids.”he chuckled. “Too late.” And he continued working on his promise, and you were too high on pleasure to argue any further but when he came inside you it seemed all to real, his hand over your mouth to stifle your cries as you came all over him and him inside you.

♟️“Isaiah I don’t want children.” You say in tears, trying to catch your breath but his weight on top of you was too much and he was still buried too deep, desperate not to waste a drop.

♟️“You’ll bare my children whether you like it or not, doll.” He says, stroking your cheek. “Then they’ll have to let me marry you, won’t they?”

Michael🎱

🎱Michael loved parading his fiancée. He’d proposed in a place so public, so romantic, so endearing… how could you ever say no to your charming Michael?” The rock on your finger was substantial despite the promise you’d made him make to not waste his money on some piece of jewellery, but he’d argued that piece of jewellery showed what was his so he’d have to make his as obvious as possible.

🎱And one afternoon he’d found himself free from any Blinder work, able to take you out and dined you at the finest afternoon tea he could find, drinking as his hand lay comfortably on your thighs as you engaged in wholesome chatter about your future together. Discussing a home in the country, him leaving the family business or at least doing the work needed to be done in the green hills of the Peak District.

🎱“-and you’ll make a lovely mother-” he continued but you stopped him “wait, mother?” You cut him off and he nods, nearly confused. “Well yes. Once we get married you’ll leave your job and I’ll lay for that pretty little house you want and you’ll cook and clean and you’ll bare my children.” He instructed, as if reeling off some old fashioned fairytale his adoptive mother had told him of as a child.

🎱“Michael I don’t want to be a mother.” You say, nearly afraid of him. “Well we can start small. Have one and then we can decide how many more we want from there.” “And if I don’t want more” “then we’ll settle with a son. Raise him.” “And what if it’s a daughter?” You ask. “See.” He grits his teeth. “Already thinkjng about gender. You obviously care. You’re just scared.” “Michael-” “you are my woman. You will bare my children and do your duty as a lady. End of discussion.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn was head over heels in love with you since you’d started working at the Garrison that one evening in late June. Harry had hired you after you’d lied about your age, and at this point you’d guessed he’d figured it out by now: he was a smart man, but you’d ran away from home and this job was the only form of income or stability you had supporting you and this crumbing life you were trying to withhold. Well, that and Finn’s arm constantly around your waist - ignoring your numerous rejections until eventually managing a date with you.

🎞️The young Shelby smirked at you from across the room, enjoying the sight of you limping around the bar - sore from last night antics. You were staying with the Shelby family, in Finn’s room, where he was determined to take your virginity and bed you in some dark, twisted fantasy. Pump you with his heir so you couldn’t deny him once more, plus the thought of you plump with a child was mouthwatering and he couldn’t wait to see it.

🎞️You’d started the evening quickly, desperate to rip each other’s garments of and clothes pray after you’d sinned to the devil, advocating for his anti-christian tango as Finn fucked you fast into the sheets. You’d done it iteratively, falling asleep only to be woken up by the boy kissing down your back only to lazily thrust into you again with tired eyes. He’d done it three or four times, until the morning when you’d woken up, his cock still buried deep in your velvety walls, a mixture of both of yours productions pooling onto his bed as he tried to act as a cork to not waste a drop of his productivities.

🎞️So he thoroughly enjoyed the sight, and the falsely-annoyed side glances you’d shoot his way when you were presented with the opportunity.

🎞️It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see new faces in the garrison, well they came every day; whether they be travellers passing through Birmingham or illegal businessmen there to drink and tussle before being thrown out. It was a nightly occurrence. And you expected nothing less this evening.

🎞️It was eight o’clock in the evening on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffling in other than the Shelby family who had already been seated an hour prior. “What’re you drinking?” An unidentifiable voice asked and you spun go see a man you didn’t recognise, age substantially your senior as he grinned rotted teeth at you.

🎞️“I’m not drinking. I’m serving, however may I offer you Shelby Gin?” You offer, trying to be polite. “I’ll take whatever you’d recommend. I’ll have you if you’re on the menu.” You grimace and poor him a glass, attempting to move on with your shift, unbeknownst to your dance partner seething with rage at the conversation and seeing red fury at a man trying to converse with a Shelby reserved girl.

🎞️He’d asked for a refill, and when you were topping up his drink, he’d reached across the bar to grab your bosom. And before you’d managed to fathom the situation, Finn had lurched across the room and tackled the man, who was laying on the floor clutching his bloodied, broken nose adjacent to Finn who’s knuckles were bruised and dirtied. “How dare you fucking touch her? Touch my pregnant missus? I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’piece of shit.” And after a few more rough punches and kicks the man was kicked out into the blistering cold of a harsh Birmingham winter, Finn rounding the bar to hug you and calm down slightly.

🎞️Soon everyone was congratulating your pregnancy and asking when the wedding was and after a while you’d managed to pull Finn to the side and question these praises “why did you say I was pregnant? I’m not. And even if I was you know my views, I’m not keeping it.” “I had Polly read your leaves when you had tea this morning. Fucked ya again and again to make sure of it. You ain’t leaving me when you’re pregnant and you certainly ain’t killing my child.” He said, kneeling to kiss your stomach with an evil glint in his eye.

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anadiasmount · 4 months

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are you willing to write for trent alexander arnold? if so please write something fluffy or something antsy which gets resolved and turns to fluff

it’s you - trent alexander arnold x reader.

quick sum: love is never easy. especially when you least expected it from liverpools finest bachelor. will you finally take the leap of faith, or lose the guy who’s willing to do the extreme for you to see reality.

wc: 1.9k | masterlist | trent’s masterlist

psa🗣️: hi angel! and hello to my trent girlies! i haven’t written for trent before so i hope you enjoy this 🤍

you felt stuck. constantly looking around and avoiding the man that had consumed your thoughts in ways you didn’t picture. feeling awkward and timid when he walked past you or your eyes connected.

the trip was last minute, you didn’t plan to go if it wasn’t your friend insisting you went since she would be alone. you didn’t want to go, it meant you would have to see trent after you avoided him since he confessed his feelings to you.

trent wasn’t one to speak much. always reserved and kept to himself, a completely different person on the pitch and in real life. but with you, he felt he could speak for hours about everything, not once get tired of it. you let him be the person he would’ve never pictured to be.

what went wrong?

he knew you from the back of your hand. needed to keep yourself busy in order to survive. an almost graduate from uni and working at your dream internship. a small volunteer worker just outside the city.

he knew when you lied, scrunching your eyes brows and hands twitching. he knew when you felt happy, the small wrinkles and dimples popping on your face. he knew you were upset when you bit your lip and unfocused around your surroundings.

trent knew you felt the same way he did but this time he couldn’t properly read you, left hurt and confused by your manner. “i’m in love you with y/n… i’ve never felt like this for anyone before. and it feels so right when i’m here, with you.”

his brows drew in when your smile slowly dropped, pulling your hands back and cleared your throat. “trent…” you whispered, you clenched your jaw unsure of what to say. “i need time to think of this. i-i-i just don’t know what to say…” you stood up and grabbed your coat.

“say you love me back,” trent prayed in his head, watching you stumble around to retrieve your belongings. “what do you mean? i confess how i feel and you’re running away?”

“i need time to think. this is all so sudden, and i don’t want to pressure either of us. or give us false hope,” you smiled trying to reason and not break his heart. but trent’s heart broke, a millions thoughts racing in his head and the idea of not being enough tracing back.

he fluttered his lashes and painfully smiled, was he about to cry? is this what pain felt like? a stab in the heart, millions of needles poking in his chest as his hands fisted. “well you know the way out…” trent motioned with his hand, walking to the side to let you go.

you approached him, having the urge to explain why you said what you said, but he walked back. tears came out your eyes, knowing you hurt the man you loved in front of you. “trent,” you croaked, but he just shook his head.

“don’t.”

not a single soul knew of the two of you. a private secret. he wanted to protect you from his hectic world. and you wanted to have something genuine and real. you had something real. had. but like always you ruined it. like every person who walked into your life, leaving because you were scared.

trent was straight forward with you. always communicating with you. the only person you found yourself lurking to at the end of the day. his touch lingering on you ever when you weren’t together. the way he smiled made your heart heat up and your hands slightly tremble.

you didn’t deserve him. you were a broken person. afraid of committing. you were afraid of love. the idea of falling for a person, so hopelessly devoted to them, and in the end for it to not work out. you easily got attached, and it wasn’t any different with trent.

trent had a way different life than yours. lights, money, women, his job, all shining on him wherever he went. he had a family, friends, a base supporting him, while you it was just your sister and trio. he constantly reminded you he wasn’t the person in the papers, which was true.

he valued you. he trusted you. he confided in you. he respected you. he loved you. why couldn’t you just allow yourself to be with him? why did it feel hard to finally accept and take the leap of faith and be with the man who has ever truly loved you?

you were stressed. constantly turning in your sleep. eyes closing but your head refusing for you to sleep. chest rising and falling as you listened quietly to the rain fall. the sheets barely covering your body, and the pillow feeling less fluffy and now hot. with a small groan you stood up, the time reading almost 4 am.

you tipped tied downstairs. walking by the room your friends and his friends were occupied in. the thunder and lightning shining in the open and clear windows. you opened the cabinet and grabbed a glass, pouring cold water to relieve your dry throat.

you closed your eyes, hands gripping the counter as you felt goosebumps suddenly rise. “couldn’t sleep?” you gasped quietly, the glass slowly tipping before quickly catching it and standing up straight. trent stood there, bags under his eyes, lips pursed with his arms crossed. muscles flexed under the loose black tee he wore with his black calvin klein boxers.

“something like that,” you said, averting your gaze, hand coming up to brush your skin or maybe the nerves away. he stepped closer, inspecting you, noticing you were wearing the small black shirt he owned with your batman themed shorts. “same. couldn’t sleep with all the noise outside…” trent confessed, also grabbing a cold glass of water.

you went quiet. the feeling of guilt consuming your insides as you kept asking yourself if this was truly happening. you couldn’t stop staring, savouring maybe the last few glances in case it would be the last. trying to make a mental imprint of the moles you traced while he slept, the small scar under his brow, his lips.

your throat went dry again, but this time the cold glass of water wasn’t going to help, the only thing that could was finally take that leap and let him out of misery for the two of you. “trent…” you said softly, hearing him and finally connecting eyes.

“don’t you think i deserve an explanation?” he asked with a sad smile. you bit your lip and nodded. “yes you do. and i’m willing to explain everything, but i understand if it’s too late,” you respected his feelings knowing he deserved this but also not wanting to push him to the limit.

“i love you. i do. so much. i need you to know that before i start saying anything,” his eyes widened a bit, mouth opened to say something but you shushed him. “for once in my life, i can’t let you or us go. i made the mistake that night and i beat myself for it. not only did i hurt you in the process but also the idea of us.”

“i’m scared,” you teared, smiling. “it’s scary to feel this way. to have my heart racing when i hear your name, our song, your voice. love to me always felt like a joke or fantasy. love is about letting someone know your map of flaws and imperfections. to fully be vulnerable.”

“love with you though? is like a dream come true. you understand me more than i understand myself. you saw me for who i am and not the person i put myself to be. you love me at my prettiest and also lowest. you hold me close, kiss my forehead, and use those words of reassurance i need to hear and always believe.”

“i love when you sleep next to me, where i get to stare at the prettiest man on earth as you sleep. i love to see your smile get bigger when i tell you about the kids at my volunteer work or my jokes. i love to sit with you at the end of the day and allow me to hear about your job and family. to see the flowers you send or bring when i see you. trent i love you, so much.”

“i’m scared to lose you. to lose the only person i’ve let into my life this close,” you shrugged smiling painfully, holding yourself tighter as you wiped your tears away. you hear his footsteps approach, sobbing quietly when he pulls you closer to him, his hand brushing your head, feeling his lips kiss your temple. the longing feeling replaced with warmth and safety.

your skin becoming hot and getting rid of the cold goosebumps and chilling feeling in your chest. you kiss his chest, tip toeing up as you continue to trace his neck and jaw, his cheeks with kisses mixed with your tears. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry trent,” you apologised, your hand gripping his bicep.

“stop. don’t torture yourself anymore. let me hold you. let me feel you. it’s just you and me, okay? shhhh,” he hushed you, repeating his same movements to help you calm down. you sniffled, pulling back slightly after a minute. “i deserve you. i love you, and your imperfections and flaws. for allowing me to become the man i wished and longed to be.”

“please don’t push me away anymore. you aren’t ever going to lose me, because what we have is eternal. your love to me is a safe space, the world and women i dreamed of having and i finally have it now. it’s you, always will be you baby,” he brushed your tears away, feeling your lips kiss his wrist and hand, losing himself in your eyes.

“i love every single part of you.”

the chilling counter made you hold trent tighter while laughing, feeling and hearing his deep chuckle as his hands traced your thighs. “are you ready now?” he asked, kissing your collarbone. “more than ready,” you said, officially taking the leap of faith.

he sighed and let his shoulders fall in a relaxed manner and smiling, watching as his eyes closed and lashes touched his upper cheeks. “trent look at me…” he stood up and grabbed your chin, “i love you,” you felt the need to say to confirm your feelings and his. “i love you, pretty girl,” his nose nuzzled into your neck, tracing all the way up to your cheek.

you sealed the night with the anticipated kiss. getting the blood rush through your veins, as you fully focused on him. his lips feeling like home. his fingers bringing your face closer to his and getting lost in the way he devoured you. not in a rushed or hard manner, in a passionate and loving way.

“my girl officially.”

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold angst #trent alexander arnold fluff #liverpool fc #taa 66 #football fanfic #footballer #football #football one shot

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charlotte-of-wales · 3 months

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a summary of the Monaco Tea, creds to the lovely anon who sent me the article <3

btw most of the information on the family was in article one, the latter were more just info on real estate + off shore accounts

again, this info is all coming from the former accountant of the family:

Prince Rainier III was seriously considering changing succession laws so Caroline would be the head of the family and Monaco as he found Albert to be weak. Albert is said to be the "despised member of the clan" who would stutter while speaking to his father. Rainier even looked into what this would mean to the Grimaldi name since Andrea - at the time 17 - obviously carries his father's name (Casiraghi) and not his mother's (Grimaldi). Rainier told the ones carrying the investigation that this was done in case Albert died.

the funds from Albert's state endowment and his private funds would be mixed all the time.

Albert would say yes to essentially everything his family asked for, including a $30 million apartment for Stephanie

Palmero (the accountant) would frequently buy things for the family to keep "their privacy". He bought Charlene's engagement ring and multiple properties for the Grimaldi's in France. He would pay property taxes for those properties and have the family pay him back.

Caroline and Stephanie would frequently make use of and sell family property (Rainier's cars, family jewelry and art, etc) without letting him know, even though they technically belonged to Albert.

Caroline is in charge of the family's castle in Marchais, which he had an issue with as she would always go off budget.

he makes a note to pay attention to Pierre Casiraghi as he is very ambitious and his dealings in real estate could create problems (spoiler alert: it did)

Caroline is said to hate Charlene

the allowance that Charlene, Caroline and Stephanie receive increases constantly, which worried Palmero. As of late, they were: 1,5 million euros for Charlene, 900.000 for Caroline and 800.000 for Stephanie yearly. This follows the family hierarchy.

Jazmin Grace receives 86,000 dollars per quarter. In February 2010, Palmero had to spend $5,000 “extra for her birthday”. Albert also bought her a $3 million apartment in New York City.

Albert spends almost a million a year funding Nicole Coste's (the mother of Albert's second illegimate child) fashion business. It's all in Alexandre Coste's name as Nicole fears that Charlene might create issues when Albert dies.

loots about Charlene. She frequently demands high sums in cash, her personal chef is $300 a day, she has multiple undocumented people from the Philippines working in her staff, the celebrations for the birth and baptism of the twins was well over half a million euros, in eight years Charlene spent around 15 million euros when she received 7.5 million euros in endowment (the Palace didn't deny this and said that the accountant was simply told to pay the difference with the family's personal funds), she spent 965,000 on a villa in two and a half months, her office decoration cost a million euros, she requested 3 x 300,000 for her brother's house.

Palmero made sure to change Monaco's regency laws so in case something happens to Albert while Jacques is underage Charlene won't be regent. Instead, the principality will be ruled by a regency council.

Albert has a secret apartment in Monaco, bought by one of Palmero's secret companies. He also got rid of problematic photographs of Albert (hinted at blackmail).

there was a whole system for hiding sums used on "special missions". They were labeled DS (for special destinations) and with time were used to pay for an informal intelligence unit that operated within the police force of the principality. They'd collect information on those close to the family and even on politians of the principality. He would also pay journalists to paint a good picture of Monaco while Hollande was president in France and was constantly criticizing tax-havens.

the DS accounts would be used to hide over-budget situations, including budget for the children's nannies and the budget for the wedding.

they were terrified of the Panama papers, as a lot of money laundering funds go through Monaco and the family had accounts on Panamanian banks.

a link between a Russian billionaire and the Monegasque Minister of Justice was revealed in 2017 and the Minister was forced to resign. An investigation was launched by a French judge and there was fears that the palace would be involved: jurisdictional immunity was granted to members of the sovereign family by order. There was rumours that the French judge wanted to hear the Prince as a witness......he was told to leave the principality. He was accused of having, through his “behavior perceived as authoritarian and vexatious”, “endangered the proper functioning of the criminal justice system”.

the real estate market is a big point of collision here and a big focus of article 3. Nothing too interesting to report - Palmero says he tried mingling in the market to break down the monopoly of real estate owners in Monaco (centered around a bestie of the Casiraghi brothers) while Albert claims Palmero had close ties with some of the developers and tried mingling with things that were of interest of the government in order to make money. The real estate issue was what eventually led Palmero to be fired. Palmero and a former laywer of Albert who was his childhood bestfriend and is also now a persona non grata claims that Albert is now fully under the influence of the bestie of the Casiraghi brothers who now controls the real estate in Monaco.

Palmaro is STILL paying property tax on properties he bought for the family!! crazy!!

Palmero detailed a number of off-shore accounts that hold about 250 million euros of the family's fortune including a company created specifically for Charlotte Casiraghi. He passed on the information from that account to Albert's new accountant at a monitored meeting.

Albert's explanation is lowkey....pathetic. He claims he told Palmero to move all of his family's assets from off-shore accounts to Monaco but Palmero never did it and that was that. He claims he was never able to obtain a precise statement on the family assets due to Palmero's secrecy and Albert just trusted him. He claims Palmero would act in his name and refuse to delay his decisions.

#and that's what you missed on glee #again thank u so much anon you're the best!!!!#this was a wild ride #mpf

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malereadermaniac · 1 month

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Mob Boss Mondo Owada x Mob Husband Male Reader Headcannons

Being Mondo's mob husband, sitting in on bikergang meetings and getting dicked down by the cornhead

Smut! MINORS DNI! FEM READERS DNI!

Smut warning: Musk/scent kinks, armpit & crotch smelling, spit, manhandling

How you met

You were both in the same class at Hope's Peak

Mondo was immediately interested in you, he liked how you took no-ones bullshit- not even his!

You were, for lack of a better word, snappy

Long story short, the two of you started hanging out, and Mondo just kept falling for you more and more - by the time you two left Hopes Peak, you had made it official

And while you do indulge in your talent as a hobby, sometimes making money off of it, you really have no need to!

Mondo's biker gang developed into a whole as mob - not exactly the super scary kind, but shady stuff does happen

You weren't the biggest fan of it to begin with, but Mondo hasn't changed as a person - and he promised to stop if you deem it goes too far

In private

Mondo fell for you because you're one of the few people who isn't scared of him at all, you aren't afraid to voice your opinions and argue with the mob boss

And that translates into your private relationship

While everyone in Mondo's gang and most people in your city would agree that the pompodore man is a dominant, scary, powerful man, you would beg to differ

If his public image isn't on the line, Mondo is wrapped around your pinky finger - if he even raises his voice at you, you argue back with a sass that makes Mondo apologise in seconds

"Who do you think you are? Shouting at me like that, do you want to rephrase that, Owada?" You ask with your arms crossed, not breaking eye contact

"I'm sorry, baby... I got ahead of myself" The man's ego and dignity being dragged through the dirt

Outside of the occasional arguments (usually caused by stress from being one of the countries' most prominent mob boss) your relationship is gold-standard

Mondo is fucking smitten for you, and with the large sums of money he has, he can afford to show you his adoration

Dates are an almost nightly thing, going out for expensive meals which are arrived to by Mondo's limousine

The mob boss spares no expense to have you looking your best and for you to be feeling as comfortable as can be

You do let him know that he's doing too much and that your love for him isn't something he has to buy - but man does this lavish life fit you like a glove!

Also. on every occasion, no matter how small, Mondo buys you a gift - he's quite thoughtful surprisingly, so it's either something meaningful or something to facilitate one way or another in the bedroom

As any all-powerful gang leader, Mondo has his jealousy issues - however, they manifest in simple possessiveness

So his strong hands are always on you, either holding your hand or your waist or his arm dangling around your shoulder

Spooning at night is a must! Mondo starts the night off as the big spoon he insists he is, however by the morning you end up with your arms around his muscular waist and your one leg over his thick thighs

In public

Your dynamic is a little more different with other people around - Mondo is a well-known mob boss, so of course he cares about keeping up his tough-guy facade!

But while Mondo does care about his image, he can't hide how captivated he is by you

The gang leader likes to show you off a lot, especially to his lackeys

So Mondo will have you sit in on meetings with you on his lap, one buff arm around your waist holding your back to his chest and his other hand thight on your thigh

But the sappy man makes sure to whisper "are you okay"'s in your ear every five minutes - making sure that his darling mob husband isn't uncomfortable

The image you two portray is very much, mob boss and mob husband - and while Mondo doesn't like belittling you to a piece of candy on his arm, it strangely results in respects from others

The muscular man has asked you if you mind before, but you've assured him many times that you don't care that much

There's also a sexual nature to your public relationship - one which doesn't really show up on your private life

You put on an act as if you were Mondo's sex toy - always wearing slightly showing or tight clothing and behaving in a sultry manner

You're always touching Mondo when there's others around, and he mirrors the behaviour - your dynamic is very evident and feels awkward to comment on or disrupt but so interesting to look at

Mondo can tell that you make his memebers and even his competing gang's jealous - and simply for that, he keeps your image the way it is

Spice

In the bedroom, Mondo and you are the complete opposite to your more sfw selves

Your relationship in the bedroom is more similar to the act you put on in public - Mondo fucks you within an inch in your life, indulging himself fully while you become a 'second' thought

In reality, all Mondo is thinking about is making you feel good - but acting and behaving as if he isn't is what turns you the fuck on!

Mondo knows you're a slut for his body, so he makes sure to show it off to you as much as he casually can

The muscular man likes to tower over you, flexing his arms and abs and chest like some sort of gym bro while your eyes ogle his body up, making your dick twitch like mad

The two of you aren't very pedantic about what potion you two fuck in or where, but you prefer to see eachother easily, and Mondo likes to be as close to you as possible

Most of the time, you're riding him on his lap, Mondo sitting up with his chest against yours - one hand helping you ride him on your waist and his other veiny hand gripping your face tightly to force you to look down into his sex-crazed eyes

If you two are fucking in his office, Doggy style on his desk, Mondo fucking loves having one hand pushing your head against the desk while his other hand is wrapped around your body - bringing his own, huge body against yours to feel closer to you while he fucks your brains out

Mondo takes control of your body, making you look wherever he wants you to look and making your body contort into whichever shape he desires - this guy man handles you at any given moment

He's rough with you in a gentler way. The man never actually hurts you, but the pressure he puts on your bidy just hits the spot for you - his veiny, huge, rough hands dragging over your body and holding you in place while he drills his cock into you

Mondo's also really fucking verbal with you, degrading you slightly (in as mean a way as the beguiled man can), and letting you know how fucking good you make him feel with his loud moans

His dick feels so good inside your ass, fucking massive in size but not as big as to puncture something. His veins are your favourite to play with, with either your tongue or fingers, when you blow him off

And when Mondo face fucks you, his pubes roughly stuffing your nose as Mondo's manly scent consumes you, it actually feels like heaven - for the both of you!

Special mentions: Kinks

Armpits - fuck does Mondo love to flex his arm behind his head, showing off his built arm and hairy, sweaty pit. The muscular man uses his free hand to push your head into his armpit, making you smell his strong, manly musk until you get drunk off of it

Crotch sniffing - Simmilarly to his armpits, Mondo fucking loves to watch you go crazy on his forest of a crotch; his balls and base of his cock absolutely covered in dirty blonde, thick pubes. The man stinks so good, his scent like that of an "Alpha male", just sex in an aroma. Mondo will make you smell his dick n balls through his musky underwear and then some after he reveals his manly cock - getting you drunk on his dick and smell gives the man a massive ego boost

Exhibitionism - Public shit really gets the both of you going. While your sexual dynamic is mainly an act in public, Mondo and you can't deny that getting frisky in front of his gang gets you both going. When Mondo sits you on his lap, you like to 'make yourself comfortable' by grinding your ass against your husband's dick - which then develops into him 'punishing you' by either having you pathetically grind against his knee or his foot (depending on which one is more easily visible to his gang) or Mondo even whips his cock out and has you service him in front of everyone

Spit - it's the hottest thing ever when mid-sex, your brain hella fuzzy from Mondo's girthy cock pounding your prostate to high heaven, Mondo grabs your face, squishing your mouth open, and he spits on your face and into your mouth - making you swallow a thick glob of his saliva as he laughs maniacally as he fucks your hole hard. He calls it "litterally swapping spit", especially when you do it do him - but you do it in a more romantic, nymphomaniac typa way. You like to sit in Mondo's lap, making out with him like your life depends on it - your hands on both sides of Mondo's face holding onto him lovingly, you break the kiss and sit up, looking down into Mondo's eyes half-lidded as your tongue dangles out of your mouth and a long string of your thick spit trails down amd onto Mondo's tongue. FUCK IT GETS HIM SO HARD!!

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jackkilmerlvr · 10 months

Text

request - georg and reader getting into a fight about girls flirting with him right before a show, georg says something that makes her insecure and he goes home to comfort her hours later.

a/n: guys someone requested this prompt, i accidentally posted it unfinished, and then accidentally privated it so it’s gone forever. please forgive me if i left out some details you wanted. 🥹

“[insert name], do you realize this wouldn’t even be a problem if you didn’t make it one? has that ran through your head yet?”

the sound of the two going back and forth for the past ten minutes could be heard over the roaring crowd to anyone backstage, since they weren’t really trying their hardest to keep quiet.

“are you fucking kidding me georg? this would’ve still been an unspoken problem if i didn’t bring it to your ass!” you shouted, raising your hands in his face momentarily. “besides if i didn’t get to it, you know interviewers would have loved to take that headline.” a sarcastic smile spreading across your face at the idea as you dramatically rolled your eyes.

standing in-front of the vanity, you pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer, lighting it with a shaky hand from using energy to yell at your air headed boyfriend.

a rushed gust of smoke left your mouth before you pressed the cigarette in again to inhale a stronger hit. watching you shake your head and tap your foot in aggravation, georg decided to end the conversation before someone got hurt.

with a sarcastic smile shot back your way he finally remarked, “well i didn’t get with you so you could worry about headlines and shit [insert name]. but if you’re worried about that kinda thing i’ll probably be better off without you.”

this comment made your chest hurt more than the nicotine as you watched him pick up his guitar, throwing the band over his shoulder before reaching for his water. and almost like it was on cue, gustav popped his head inside the quiet room hesitantly to announce the start of their show before throwing a innocent smile your way.

once the door shut back georg was finished picking up his water, but while making his exit he made one last comment that broke you.

“besides, i’d take a nosy ass interviewer as a girlfriend then your annoying ass any day.”

and with that he was gone. leaving you alone with everything he said mixed with your depressing thoughts.

you thought about staying momentarily, because georg always liked to see you after his performances, but you decided against it before all your emotions spilled out in the back of this theater.

standing in your bathroom mirror you tugged at your hair, pulling with frustration while the tears falling onto your chest seemed to make it ache more.

you couldn’t sum up the amount of pain you felt, all the elaborate ideas of what georg could be doing with a girl in that moment washing through your head.

with a final look at your recked face, you stepped out of the bathroom to throw your self onto your bed, slipping off your jeans and leaving nothing but a oversized tokio hotel T-shirt on as you called it a night.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

the sound of keys rattling could be heard echoing into the bedroom, but it didn’t wake her, neither did the sound of georgs boots stepping against the dark oak floors.

stepping into their shared room, he grew confused at his sleeping girlfriend who would usually be up around the time as it was only about 11:30.

kicking his boots off anyway, he switched from the distressed pants to a pair of raggedy sweat pants and a throw away top to lay in with bed his girlfriend.

he threw his arm ontop of her waist, only for it to be retracted back to him quickly after. his eyebrows ruffled together, the sound of the sheets wrinkling told you he was scooting closer. “babe..?” he asked, unsure if were awake or asleep at this point.

“leave me alone georg.”

“what’s wrong honey?”

silence.

pressing his lips together impatiently, he took it upon himself to twist your body towards him to give himself a view of your sleeping’ face. he was met with your puffy tired eyes looking back at him though.

“hi pretty baby.” he whispered, moving loose hair away from your face before noticing the puffy under your eyes. immediately concern washed over his face, “baby why were you crying? what happened?”

before she could even speak, the tears spoke for her by running down her face. with a croaked voice she mumbled, “am i not enough for you georg?”

“what? of course you are, you are more then enough.” pulling your towards him to embrace you as your head lay on his firm chest. “you’re quite literally more than i deserve.”

a/n: ..so i found out i kinda suck writing long moments of fluff today. 🌝 hope you enjoyed anyway.

#୨⎯ jack's wife ⎯୧ #georg listing #georg listing imagines #georg listing x reader #georg listing angst #tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fanfic #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader

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lokiforever · 6 months

Note

Hey do you think you maybe write a Loki x reader with a reader who adores singing but is incredibly insecure about it because they can't sing high or low enough to properly fit with any voice type so they don't like to sing front of others? If not that totally OK I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. Have good/night

Hello there, nonny👋🏻❤️

For sure, darling! It's totally fine ❤️

You know, that's basically me, like I live for music but I don't like to sing in front of anyone....I used to be in the our school choir ...but now I don't like to sing in front of people. I'm probably boring you all out ...... 😅

Apologies.. let's begin with the fic/drabble ✌🏻❤️

Hope you all like it, especially you, nonny ❤️🥰

❤️His Melophile❤️

Pairing: Loki x Insecure! Reader

Summary: Loki finds about how highly insecure you are about your singing abilities while you love singing too.No wonder why you never sang in front of him......

Warnings ⚠️🚨 : Loki wearing a tuxedo (after ep2 most definitely, this is) None otherwise, it's pure fluff...

Today was Friday, which ment another of Tony's team building parties. Oh, how he loved parties. You were getting dressed and your dear perfect boyfriend, Loki was to pick you up in 30 minutes. Well...not that you had to go that far.... just have to shuffle through a few floors but still...

If we start talking about for how long you've liked him ... that'll be a long sum and the same was the case with Loki. It was only 2 months ago that you two confessed your true feelings for each other.

You decided to wear a short black cocktail dress which fitted you perfectly..

You were in the middle of deciding your hair style when your thoughts was interrupted by a knock accompanied by the smooth and lovely voice of your boyfriend "Darling?" "Come in, Loki. I'm almost ready, love" you called across the room. As Loki entered both of you a good few minutes just to admire each other.. He was wearing a tuxedo and the ruffles completed the look with his hair slicked back. "Y-you look absolutely ravishing, my darling" "Loki....you-you look... spectabulous" he chuckled "Oh, you seem to like it, love" "I love it! You look ...... words cannot express how much I love it" "Well, thank you, darling"

"Let's go, shall we, my love?" "I just need to make my hair" "Ah, no need it's amazing just the way it is" you chuckled a faint blush creeping up your cheeks "Thank you, my love. Let's go then"

The party went smoothly and now, when most of the guests were gone you and the other Avengers decided to play a game of Truth or dare.

"Point Break, Truth or dare?"(You know who said this) "Truth and stop with that weird name" "Thor, tell us a story of you and Loki from your childhood" said Steve "I could've given him a better one" the billionaire said. "Tony" Nat said with a glare to which he raised his hands up in mock defence "Thor, you start"

"Alright, here it goes - Once Loki transformed himself into a snake and he knows that I love snakes, so I went to pick it up to admire it and then he transformed back into himself and went like, 'Byah! It's me' and he.. stabbed me......we were eight at that time"

Loki now had a smile on his face. And you gave him the "Whoa! That was quite a trick" you said and Thor nodded "I'm so proud of you, love" you whispered to Loki with a chuckle who was sitting next to you as he gave you his signature smirk.

"Y/N, why don't you go next" Nat said "Me? Ok, alright" "Truth or dare?" "Uhh... let's go with Truth" "Name one of your insecurities" this immediately caused Loki to look at you with a gaze of love and reassurance.

"Ugh...no.... fine, I don't like to sing in front of others, be it anyone" you confessed as the God gave you the 'we have to talk about it in private' look.

~~•~~

*In yours and Loki's shared chambers*

Before any of you could say anything, Loki was called for an emergency mission with Thor and a few other Avengers and with what he told you it'd probably take him 2 to 3 days to return ....

You had your ipods on, singing as you cooked. Loki would return by the evening so were cooking dinner for the both of you.

~•~

When Loki entered the apartment he heard your lovely voice as you sang accompanied by the aroma of the food you were cooking. He walked towards the kitchen, leaning on the doorframe as he heard you. You were lost in your own little world, way too preoccupied to notice that you now had company.

When your song ended you turned around, releasing a yelp as you saw Loki standing there "Jesus! Loki, you nearly gave me a heart attack! How long have you been standing here?" "Long enough to hear your beautiful voice"

You turned beet red at his words. "Oh, come on" "Darling...." he said as he started walking towards you "You have a lovely voice, sweetheart" he said, kissing you softly. He lifted your chin up using his thumb and index finger "Loki, I-" before you could protest he pressed his finger against your lips, shushing you. "Ah, ah,ah you'll listen to me now. Baby, it's ok if you don't like singing in front of others, but let me tell you this - you are wonderful in every way, you don't need to doubt any thing about you. " he turned off the stove and picked you up, making you sit on the kitchen counter and softly pressing several kisses all over your face.

"You're perfect, my queen, you're my sunshine. My darling little melophile. I love your voice, when you sing, lost in your own world all I want to do is to just admire you and proudly tell everyone that 'You see that perfect angel right there. Yes, she is mine. That's my girl. She's the one who has my heart and I have hers' I love you with all that I am, Y/N Y/L/N"

His words touched you deeply, you felt so blessed to have him in your life.

He began pressing kisses along your jawline and neck "You're mine, and mine alone" then he looked up at you, his blue-green eyes staring right into your soul with such love and devotion "I love you so, so much, Loki. You're a true blessing, my love. I can't imagine a life without you" you said as you hugged him tightly before he pulled you in a deep, passionate kiss.

"You sound lovely, my darling but I'm sure that you'll sound even better when I'll make you scream my name tonight" he said, picking you up and carrying you towards the bedroom.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Taglist:

@holdmytesseract @allesiaandnx @jennyggggrrr @dishahaldar @eleniblue @lotsoflokilove23 @gruftiela

Let me know if anyone wants to be added to my Loki taglist ❤️

#loki #loki x reader #loki mcu #marvel loki #loki x female reader #loki layfeson #loki layfeyson x you #loki layfeyson imagine #loki fluff #soft loki #loki x Insecure! reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki drabble

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strongsassysexysloane · 1 year

Text

What You Deserve

Sum: Things get complicated when a case turns into a weekend away. Alcohol is consumed and flirtatious comments leads to...

⚠️ - Sex is mentioned, alcohol consumption, drinking, teasing.. nothing too salacious... yet.

It was always a shame that when you got a case in such a beautiful city, you never got to see the nice side of it. Especially when the hotel was actually decent for a change with a wonderful swimming pool. The team had wrapped up the case quicker than usual and the hotel had the rooms booked for another few days, the only problem was the Agency. They were always the problem.

“What is the point of having our own private jet if we can’t keep it for a few more days and enjoy a well deserved weekend off?” You’d been trying to reason with the higher ups for almost an hour now. Emily tried first, company money and time, they insisted and then you tried. You didn’t have enough pull as Emily did but you were more persistent.

Annoyingly so.

‘We need the jet back in-‘

“Why? It is this team’s personal jet. Who needs it back, when we are all here? We would be using the same amount of fuel..”

Emily was on her third tequila sunrise watching you with amusement. The others had dispersed around the bar, dancing or chatting with the locals. She had hung back to keep you under control but that was before she started drinking half an hour ago.

There was no more arguing with you.

‘It has been over an hour. I don’t know the time where you are, but I want to go home. Have the jet for two more days, fine. You can explain it on the budget next month.’

You smirked and Emily was shocked. “Oh I don’t have to deal with the budget, thanks.” And you hung up, much to Emily’s now new frustration.

“What about the bud-get?!” She was the one having to fill out those reports and give lengthy reasonings about where and why they used their budget.

You shrugged, “This will be put up for questioning next budget review I guess.” Your amusement growing more and more as Emily’s dwindled.

“Those meetings are already hell… This better be worth it.” She grumbled, sipping her drink.

“Just think –“ You paused, she glared at you over the glass. “- Or don’t, that works too.” You held up your hands and backed away, heading for the bar.

You informed the team that you’d secured the weekend for everyone to stay at the hotel. Only issue was you were bunked with Emily for another two nights. That wasn’t really a big issue. There were thankfully two beds to your saving grace but still being in a confined space with her for long periods of time was testing your will power. Not to mention her short sleep shorts.

Usually you managed to bunk with Reid or JJ but this time they got their own rooms and Emily made the call to take one for the team… Meaning bunking with you. Much to everyone’s amusement bar your own. Night one was fine, you were too tired to care. Now you were on night five and alcohol was involved, your will powerful was absolutely drained and Emily was drunk.

When you made it back to the table Emily and JJ were sitting at, you could see more empty glasses which meant she was onto her fifth cocktail.

“Think it’s time to cut you off.” You laughed at her instant frown. “Ok, stand up without swaying and hop on one leg.”

She instantly got up but JJ held on, her hand gripping her shoulder for balance. “This isn’t fair.”

You laughed watching her struggle to lift one foot even with JJ helping her. “Sit down Em.” You sighed, shaking your head.

.. >< ..

The night carried on. To Emily’s delight you didn’t cut her off which was your mistake. Now you were the one helping her walk back to the room. Her feet tripping over themselves which made it extremely difficult to walk let alone stand.

“You’re such a light weight.” You chuckled as she stumbled and leant more on you. “Jesus.” Her arm wrapping around your waist for a second to gain balance.

“Hey. Girls gotta let loose - once in a while.” She hiccupped and regained some balance, removing her hand from your waist.

Thankfully, you reached the room and got her inside and onto the bed. Her drunken smile watching you move around room. The heavy lifting was over, although now you had the task of helping her out of her clothes before she passed out. You handed her a glass of water and she drank it. Your mind going a million miles an hour, you weren’t far off being drunk yourself.

“You’re good at this.” She mumbled, giggled when your fingers tickled the bottom of her feet taking off her shoes. “Not asking permission before you undress me…” She quirked an eyebrow with a smirk. Even wasted Emily could pull off that look.

The thoughts running through your head weren’t innocent when she looked at you like that from this position on your knees in front of her. “Please, I’d be far more seductive undressing you if sex was on the table.” Your eyes slammed closed, and you wanted to hit your head against a brick wall.

“Who said it wasn’t.” She snickered. Not at all regretting flirting with you when you looked like this.

This woman was going to be the death of you. “Do you want help or not?” You looked up at her, legs hanging off the end of the bed where you plopped her, hair a mess, shirt twisted but somehow, she was still the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

“Is sex on the table if I say yes or no?”

“Emily.” You warned and she sighed.

“You’re no fun when drunk. Yes, can I please have help, don’t think I can stand up without it.” She laughed, attempting to stand up but she couldn’t get the momentum. “Nope.”

“Here.” You grabbed her hand and with a bit of momentum on her part, you managed to stand her up. Her hand fell from yours and rested on your waist. “Don’t.” Her hand didn’t listen, it went on exploring and snuck under your top. It took all your will power not to moan at the touch.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t-“ Something must’ve clicked in her drunken brain because she instantly retracted her hand from your skin. She shook her head, trying to shake away the thoughts, the alcohol was melting away her walls and rules.

“Hey,-“ You were soft, your hand coming up to cup her cheek and draw her eyes back to you. “Let me help you, then I’ll get you another glass of water and tuck you in.” You threw in a wink and a smile to calm her beating heart and it worked. It didn’t help your racing heart after her touch and how she was looking at you, but she needed help right now and your feelings took a back seat for now.

There was a quick nod and you proceeded to unbutton her shirt and take it off then you helped her undo her trousers. Nothing was said between you, both of you silent and breathy controlling your impure thoughts. You’d never get the image of her in her underwear out of your head and you didn’t want to.

She sat back down on the bed and curled up under the covers.

“I’ll be right back.” You brushed her hair out of her face and swore you heard her purr at the touch.

The bathroom was a saving grace, you took a minute to settle your nerves. Undressing Emily took all your will power, touching her skin was intoxicating and you worked quick as not to wonder. She didn’t seem to mind but then in her state she did put sex on the table. You shook your head and filled up a glass of water for her.

She passed out almost right away after you tucked her in. You made sure she drank the water before falling asleep then you got ready for bed. It was late so sleep came easy but your dreams had you squirming.

The sun didn’t wake you but the sound of someone puking did. Your eyes flickered open and there it was again. Last night quickly came back to you and you shot out of bed. “Em!”

“Don’t come in here!” She quickly flicked the door and it slammed shut in your face.

“Come on. I can hold your hair up at least.”

“No!” She yelled before throwing up again. “Why didn’t you stop me from drinking?!” She coughed and flushed the toilet. Her head hadn’t felt this bad since her late teen years.

You shook your head and leant back against the wall. “Oh gee, like I could stop you, I suggested it five drinks in. You had other ideas.” There was the tap and you heard her brushing her teeth so you walked back to bed. “You’re cut off from drinking for the rest of the weekend though.” You grumbled and flopped back into bed, your head wasn’t feeling that great either.

“Excuse me?” Her hands were on her hips as your rolled over to look. “Did you suddenly become miss boss over night?”

“Fine, drink. Go sleep in Morgan’s room, he might take you up on the sex offer you so readily gave out to me last night.” Your words did the exact thing they intended, she blanched.

Her hands fell from her sides, one came up to cradle her forehead. “I didn’t... did I? You’re screwing with me, right?”

“Pretty sure you were the one wanting to be screwed...” You couldn’t believe you were having this conversation and before coffee too.

She walked over to your bed. “I’m sorry I di- I’m sorry.”

The fact that she stopped herself from retracting the statement had you perplexed, and you rolled over onto your side. Thankfully you had the sheet pulled up over your waist because her hand came out and rested on your hip.

“Thank you for being my saviour.” Her thumb rubbed circles over the sheet.

“Always, now is sex still on the table or is that just a drunk Emily thing?” You got a shove for that and you both laughed. “Drunk Emily. Got it.” Two could play at the teasing game.

She shook her head and walked back over to her bed. “You’re something else.” Her back was to you so she could hide the massive blush all over her face. “Might rest up a bit before showing my face at breakfast.”

“It’s only early, go back to sleep. I’ll wake you before breakfast is over.”

You set your alarm to wake you both up later, thankfully, because you drifted back into your dreams. Dreams where Emily made good on her drunken wishes. The beeping woke you up before it got really good, and you groaned.

An amused Emily was perched on her elbow looking at you. “Good dream?”

Her amused smirk gave away that she’d woken up before the alarm and heard you in your sleep. The blush started to heat up your cheeks. “Might’ve been.” You sheepishly looked away from her daring gaze and hopped out of bed. “Breakfast time.”

“Oh, I took the liberty of ordering us room service, I hope you don’t mind.”

You just shrugged, yawning as you walked to the bathroom and away from her inquisitive gaze.

“Got time for a quickie if you get back in bed.”

You almost walked into the bathroom door at her words.

She must’ve heard the oomph sound because you could hear her laugh before she clarified. “A quick nap.”

“Yeah sure, that’s what you meant.” Sexually frustrated you was beginning to show, “You had your chance.” You said as you turned on the tap and splashed your face, trying to wake up quicker.

There was shuffling from the room. “Was thinking after breakfast we could go down to the pool. Morgan texted and said him and JJ were hitting the bar later –“

“No bar!”

She chuckled, “Oh there will be bar but no tequila, I think I’ve finally learnt my lesson with that one.” She watched you as you padded around the room, looking anywhere but at her. The fact that she’d woken up at the first alarm you’d set but quickly hit snooze and stayed awake to hear you moan her name had her legs twitching. Plus, the memories from last night were flooding back, the look you gave her had her wishing she hadn’t been that intoxicated and followed through.

You grabbed your clothes for the day, opting to put your bikini on underneath to save time later. As you were getting changed and thinking of anything to get your mind of Emily in bed, the room service arrived. It smelt amazing. Emily was perched at the small table with two plates of everything you could want from the buffet.

“This looks amazing.”

“I’m hoping it’ll settle my raging hangover.” She chomped on a hashbrown.

Breakfast was spent in silence, both of you were too hungry to carry any further banter. Although you could feel her eyes on you. A text notification broke the silence and it was Penelope wondering where you two were. They were already pool side. Another text came through and it was of Morgan sipping a drink in the pool. If you were straight that would be a site to see but it did nothing for you.

“Guess I better slip into something for the pool.” She winked as she hopped up from the table.

You prayed she had her back turned before the blush tinged your face as your brain was going ballistic with images of Emily in a bikini although your brain didn’t need to imagine for too long.

A few minutes later she walked out of the bathroom in just a red bikini and the beach towel wrapped around her waist. Why was it always red?

“You coming?”

You realised you had been staring for far too long and she had a very amused smirk on her face. “Be right down.” You needed a moment to cool off but even that wouldn’t happen.

She was in the pool by the time you got down and sat beside Penelope. “I think I need a drink.” You grumbled to an amused Garcia. Your eyes hadn’t left Emily’s body as she ducked underwater.

“Morgan, get Y/N a strong drink!” She shouted from her seat over to Morgan at the bar. He just smirked in response and relayed your order to the bartender. “Best way to cure a hangover, keep drinking.”

Before you could get the relief of alcohol, Emily popped up at the pools edge. “Don’t make me get out and pull you in.”

Your brain went fuzzy before Penelope shoved your shoulder. “Go. She’ll make us both wet.”

You wanted to punch the cute blonde for that remark but thankfully Morgan handed you your drink before anyone could do anything.

“Don’t think I wont push you in with a drink in hand.”

“Come on, shes practically begging you. If only I got that sort of attention from-“

“Hey!” Garcia shoved Morgan.

“Sorry baby girl.” He grinned and kissed her forehead.

You took a long swig of your drink and stood up, unwrapping the towel from around your waist. It took all your will power to avoid Emily’s eyes as you walked up to the pool. You could feel her eyes on you as you walked around and found the steps.

Was it to delay the process and for her to check you out? Absolutely.

You had no idea where this confidence was coming from but you held onto it, diving under the water and going up the opposite end to where she was.

“She’s playing dirty. I knew I liked her.” Morgan chuckled and got a raised eyebrow from Emily. “Oh, she’s all yours. I know better.” He smirked, watching Emily swim towards you. “This could be trouble."

Pen just grinned. “They deserve each other.”

They laughed and continued to not so subtly watch this play out. “I’m so glad we got the weekend off.” Derek smirked.

. . . . . . . . .

Let me know what you think, unsure how quickly updates will come. Most of it is written just needs to be edited. I dislike editing so comments and positivity will help ;)

#emily prentiss x female reader #emilyprentiss #criminal minds reader insert

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 8 months

Text

One of a kind

Elrond x reader. This is a modern AU!

This fic is dedicated to @montyc @lady-of-imladris and @sotwk. You guys rock!!

*****

The small bookstore, situated in the oldest part of the city and semi-hidden between a laundromat and a grocery store, is a decidedly peculiar place. No volumes with brightly coloured covers arranged in alphabetical order or grouped by topic on the shelves, no new releases put on display on the front window, no section reserved to academic texts or books for children. It is a tiny, dusty space, with tomes of all sorts, sizes and shapes (!) piled in the corners or spread over tables; some look like they have not been touched for years, or are barely legible. It looks more like a pawn shop or a flea market than a bookstore, but the unassuming, modest appearance hides a veritable treasure cove: the store deals with rare and antique books, including many unique pieces, some of which are worth as much as the rent of a four rooms apartment. You adore it, and adore spending hours browsing around: you have been studying, and working with, old books ever since you were a girl, and in the bookstore you have found many precious volumes to add to your private collection; were it for you, you would never leave.

The sole downside of the store is its owner…

In a cool, rainy fall afternoon, you are wandering about as usual, inspecting the hundreds of books all around you, some of which are even piled under the furniture, given the lack of space, protectively holding the loot of today against your chest: a book printed at the beginning of the last century, in mint conditions, that many experts in the field considered lost. You know already that the store owner will ask a high sum for it, but the book is well worth it.

As you continue your tour in the barely lit rooms, the old parquet crackling under your feet, you find yourself walking by the counter: the owner, behind it, is discussing with a young man with dark hair, who you briefly, almost reflexively, glance at… and find yourself unable to look away.

He looks roughly your age, with the slender, strong build you would expect from an athlete, short hair the colour of oak wood framing the sort of face you had only seen in centuries-old paintings: he is simply dressed -jeans, a soft sweater, dark boots- but there is something elegant, even refined, in him. You move a few, hopefully unseen, steps towards him, to better look at him under the soft light of the old chandelier… and your eyes fall on the book the man and the store owner are discussing about; it is sitting on the counter between them, and when you recognize it, your heart skips a beat or four.

“So… how much could it be worth in your opinion, sir?” the man asks, his polite tone betraying a hint of anxiety.

“Hmm, let’s see...” the owner answers with the condescending tone you are used to, but still dislike “It is in fairly good conditions. I’d say… a hundred.”

The book you had chosen almost slips from your hands. A hundred?!?!

“So little?” the man asks, disappointment evident on his fair face “It is antique, I thought...”

“So it is, but what makes a book valuable is its rarity, not so much its age. This edition of your book was printed in more than five thousand copies, which significantly reduces its worth.”

“Oh.”

The man sighs, visibly saddened. “I see. A hundred is fine.”

The two men, engrossed in their conversation, pay you no mind, and you wait until the store owner has opened a drawer under the counter to take the money before making your move.

“If I may interrupt.” you intervene in your sweetest tone as you approach; the store owner glares at you.

“What do you want?”

“Simply to take a look at the book, if the gentleman allows.” you explain before addressing him directly “Do you mind? I am a bibliographer, and antique and rare books are exactly my field of study.”

“Of course.” he readily answers as he turns towards you, and for a moment you feel your heart tremble because of the soft, clever but kind look of his dark eyes, pink lips opening in a friendly smile; he is undoubtedly one of the most attractive people you have met in a long time, attractive enough to leave you speechless for a moment, but the weight of the book he is offering you in your hands quickly brings you back to attention. It is as you thought: a copy of The Annals of the Beleriand printed at the very beginning of the last century. And it is in perfect conditions!

“I had not seen one of these for years!” you exclaim, as usual unable to hide your excitement when a rare book is concerned “May I ask how you came by this?”

“It is part of the book collection we inherited from our parents.” the man explains; he has sensed your interest, and looks at you hopefully “Do you think it is worth more than a hundred?”

“I’d say! Normally, two hundreds would be a fair price for a book from this period, but for a particularity: it is said that the warehouse where the copies of this edition were kept was set aflame on the night before the books were supposed to be transferred and put on the market.”

“You are saying the books burnt?”

“I am; the fire very nearly spread to the whole street, according to an old newspaper article I read. Anyway, only six copies were said to have survived; including this, and another one which is in my possession.” you explain with satisfaction, and then offer your sweetest smile to the store owner, who has gone red in the face with anger and irritation “I am sure our friend here was unaware of this little detail, otherwise he would have never offered you such a modest sum.”

The dark-haired man’s smile, already aware you saved him from being swindled, grows even larger, and grateful; there is no need for words, and in a moment, you have allied against the owner. “And since you are clearly an expert on the subject, what price do you think I should accept?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours.

Ah! “I would say...” dramatic pause “A thousand.”

It is ten times the sum the man was going to accept, had you not intervened, and this makes him gasp with joy; the bookstore owner, on the other hand, looks on the verge of a heart attack.

“Of course, if the gentleman here cannot afford to offer such a figure, I know a few people who…”

“No, no, just a second!” the owner protests “The book’s conditions are not so satisfactory after all. I think seven hundred is…”

“A thousand.” your new friend interrupts him, still polite but clearly determined not to accept less than what he could ask for “Either a thousand or the deal is over.”

It is with great pleasure that you observe as the owner takes the agreed sum out of the drawer and rudely puts it in the hands of the client; on his request, he also writes a receipt for the sale.

“I’d like to buy this instead.” you state then, handing the man the book you had chosen, and your credit card “I think four hundred is a fair price.”

The owner glares at you; if looks could kill, friends and family would be already gathered to cry on your tomb. “It’s not up to the client to decide the price. Six hundred.”

“Four hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred and fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Five hundred, all right.” he finally relents with a sigh, while you mentally pat yourself on the back; this is a fair price, and the one you had intention to pay from the start. You put the book in your bag, while the man next to you does the same with his money.

“Goodbye and thank you!” you say almost as one to the owner, still glaring at you both while he looks at the man open the door and let you pass first.

Once you are both outside, the dark-haired man smiles at you, full of joy and relief. “If we were a couple of teenagers, I would now high-five you.” he confesses “But since we are both adults, I’ll limit myself to thank you from the bottom of my heart, for your help.”

“It was a real pleasure.” you sincerely answer, while impulsively you offer his your hand “I am (full name).”

“Elrond Peredhel. Pleased to meet you.”

Elrond’s hand -the grasp firm but not painful, the fingers long and elegant… and naked, you cannot help but noticing, with no wedding or engagement ring on sight- shakes yours; the gaze of his dark eyes is so intense it makes you shiver… and the sensation is not at all unpleasant.

“How may I repay you?”

“There is no need, really; I can’t stand those who take advantage of other people’s ingenuity.”

“I agree, but thanks to you I earned ten times what I would have otherwise. May I at least buy you dinner?”

He is not asking you out, unfortunately, but you like his approach, the ability to recognize he is in debt without humbling himself; he has a self-confident, but not proud, bearing, this young man you find yourself liking more with each passing minute. Who knows, maybe he has other books to sell, and in that case you could meet again at the store…

“Thank you, but I really can’t accept.” you answer, forcing yourself not to take advantage of his generosity “Dinner would be far too much…”

“A drink, then?” Elrond insists, a friendly smile softening the insistence in his words “Wherever you wish.”

By now you can’t help smiling; why not, after all?, you ask yourself; he’s offering, and all you ask is to enjoy his attention for a while. “All right; if you are sure, thank you.”

You decide on a nearby pub. It has started raining, and Elrond covers both with his umbrella as you walk towards it, his boots and your sneakers advancing side by side on the wet cobblestone.

“You are a regular at the bookstore, I gathered.”

“I really am. The owner hates me, and the only thing stopping him from shutting the door in my face is the fact that I am his best customer, and I have brought many others to the store. It really is the best place in town when it comes to rare and antique books, which is why I put up with him.” you explain with a sigh, and Elrond smiles.

“Well, all the better for me.”

You reach the pub five minutes later, and soon you and Elrond are sitting at one of the round, lacquered tables; as a perfect gentleman, he lets you order first.

“Forgive me if I say so, but a thousand seems like an absurd sum for a book.”

“I understand you’re surprised, but believe me, that is a pretty standard price for what I usually deal with, and I have seen many volumes sold for much higher prices.” you eagerly explain; you like to talk about your job, especially when the interlocutor is clearly interested in what you have to say “Last year, a first edition of The Red Book of Westmarch was sold for a hundred thousand. And that is not the most striking case.”

“Hmm…”

Elrond sips his drink as he reflects on your words. “Would you be able to assess the value of any rare book? And to put the owner in touch with a potential buyer?” he inquires in the end.

“Of course, with a little time at my disposal.” you proudly answer “I know many collectors and bibliophiles, and even a few auction houses. Why, you have other treasures to sell?”

Elrond’s expression turns serious, almost circumspect, as he takes a notebook out of his bag, opens it and then offers it to you. “I think I can trust you.” he states, and you are taken aback at how proud, and sincerely happy, you feel because of that assessment “Here, tell me what you think.”

Listed on the pages of the notebook in a small and elegant calligraphy, under the title Ada’s books are more than a hundred volumes; of each, Elrond has neatly listed the title, the year of publication, the editor and the conditions - mostly perfect or very good.

And what a list! You feel your eyes widen as you scroll down the page and realize the content of this notebook is a veritable treasure cave. First editions, novels in languages that were only printed once, signed copies… if they are all, or even just half of them, genuine -which you can’t assume, no matter how friendly and handsome Elrond is; like any bibliographer, you are by now an expert in recognizing a forgery, and you can’t count the times the masterpiece you thought you had discovered was actually not even twenty years old- this is a discovery worth to be shown to all the experts in the field, and even to be exhibited.

“So? What do you think?” Elrond anxiously asks, and you make sure to look at him in the eyes before answering.

“I feel as if I had opened a cookie box and found all three Silmarils inside.”

His cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. “Oh, come on…!”

“I am deadly serious, Elrond. This list… some volumes on it are first editions, and a few must be rare enough to be classified as almost impossible to find. There is at least a title, maybe two, for which a single copy was thought to exist until now! Eru… it is a veritable fortune! We are talking of very sizeable sums, if you were to sell them.”

“Please! Lower your voice!” Elrond urges you, discretely looking all around him.

“Sorry, sorry. It is just…”

You swallow the rest of your drink in a gulp; you are so excited that the hand holding the glass is shaking.

“I am sorry; when it comes to rare books, I lose the sense of moderation like some women do in a clothing boutique; I really am obsessed. My mother says this is why I am still single.” you admit, making him laugh “How did you come by this… collection?”

Elrond explains that his ancestors have bought rare books for decades, and that through the generations the collection, by now of considerable size and richness, was bequeathed to him and his twin brother Elros. Then, the expression of your new friend turns sad.

“Our parents were… taken from us when we were very young. We were kidnapped, in a sense, and then we were informed they had died.” he explains, catching you a bit off-guard; you can’t see how that tragedy is linked to the book collection, but that doesn’t prevent you from offering him your sincere condolences.

“I am so sorry, Elrond; it’s… it’s a terrible thing to experience, especially when one is so young.”

“It was. Now we are older, and we manage just fine, except… my brother fell ill, six months ago; very ill, enough that for a while we thought he would not… anyway, there is a cure that has a good probability to restore his health, but it is costly. Very costly - too much for me, and none of our friends can help in a way that would really matter.”

Even with the relatively good news of the cure, taking care of his brother has clearly taken a toll on Elrond; his sad, scared and still brave smile talks of a man who has spent more than one sleepless night wondering how to save the life of the only family he has left. Poor, poor Elrond, you think as you feel your heart break for him; you have already taken a liking to him, to his sweet smile and expressive dark eyes, but this poor man is dealing with problems you would not wish on your worse enemy, and that are taking a toll more on his mental equilibrium than on his economic situation.

“I am so sorry, Elrond.” you whisper; instinctively, and even though you have never been used to physical contact with people you have barely met, your hand finds his arm on the table, and gently squeezes it in consolation “I took care of my father for years before… before he left; I know how painful it is.”

“Thank you, (name). But there is no need for condolences; Elros will live, I know, I only need to help him, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to in order to give him just one more chance. To sell our family’s book collection was a tough decision -all of it, should it be necessary- considering it is one of the few things we have left of our father, but my brother comes before everything else.”

Elrond smiles. “Thanks to you, that copy of the Annals will pay for two months of his therapy; so thank you, (name), thank you so much.”

You tell him you are happy you could help, especially now that you know what he will use the money for. “Maybe… maybe I could do something else.” you tentatively add, suddenly shy for a reason you can’t fully comprehend but determined to support Elrond in any way you can, for no reason but the need to make sure his brother receives the best of care, and the love and the concern you see in his dark eyes. “Could I borrow this list? Or could you make me a copy?”

“Why?”

“Even at first glance it is clear that you are in possession of a veritable gold mine in books, but I would like to do a throughout research on a few of this volumes. I need to consult a few database and maybe with one or two colleagues, and check with the auction houses to see what price we -you- could realistically hope to sell at, because sometimes simply there is no one willing, or able, to pay a fair price. You could tell me if there are volumes you would be more inclined to sell, or what sum you need for Elros’ next cycle of therapy, and I would do my best to find a buyer. What do you think?”

Elrond doesn’t think much, at the moment, judging by his overwhelmed expression. “I… I had thought about bringing one or two volumes at a time at the bookstore…”

“You could; but as you have seen, the store owner is the last person you could expect a fair payment from; if you let an expert -which I am, false modesty aside- help you, you will be sure no one is taking advantage of you.”

“And you could help me? You would?”

“Of course.” you reassure him with a smile “This is what I do. I usually take a percentage of each sale I help arrange, but don’t worry, I am relatively cheap - ehm, my fee is.”

You would be tempted to add you can repay me taking me out to dinner or something like that, but you don’t; even in jest it would be offensive, given what Elrond told you regarding his brother, and you have seen enough of him to know already he would be terribly embarrassed by your proposal. It would be highly inappropriate… for now, at least, and regardless of whether he would be inclined to accept or not. Who knows...

A quick telephone number and e-mail address exchange later, Elrond promises to send you a copy of the list before the end of the day, and you to get down to work as soon as he does.

“Meeting you was a gift from above, (name).” Elrond says “I am sorry you had to waste a whole afternoon because of me.”

“Believe me, I was happy to help.” you answer, as sincere as you have never been before, while you leave the pub together, under a sky devoid of clouds, the blue almost blinding “And I had nothing else to do, to be honest. I have walked my dog this morning and I, uhm, I am not married, you know, and so...”

“Well, all the better for me.” Elrond says, and then, realizing the implications, he blushes a fiery red “I mean… otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to consult you, and...”

He’s stammering, but he smiles when he sees you do the same, and finds again the polite, self-assured attitude you have already witnessed while he spoke to the bookstore owner; you have dealt with your fair share of rare books, you suddenly reflect, but he is the first real one of a kind you have ever encountered. “I’ll write to you as soon as I get home, (name).” he promises.

“Amazing. You’ll hear from me very soon, I promise.”

He hesitates for a moment -he is still blushing- and then kisses you on the cheek, his touch as delicate as a sparrow’s wing. You depart, stopping just once to look at Elrond’s elegant, slender form walking away, and then you set off for home, feeling happy for reasons that have nothing to do with the antique book stored in your bag.

Tagging as usual @starlady66 and @elvenenby.

#The Lord of the Rings #The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power #The Rings of Power #Rings of Power #Elrond #Elrond Peredhel #Elrond x reader #Robert Aramayo #Bellona's stuff

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zilabee · 1 year

Text

Colin Hanton left the Quarry Men because of a gig at the Finch Lane Busmen's Sports and Social Club. It was a club George's dad was a member of, and he he was the one who'd got them the gig. He and George's mum were both in the audience. The Quarry Men went on, played four songs, beautifully, and took their bow. But the curtain didn't close:

"Despite the best efforts of a chap in the wings it refused to move. So instead of us standing on the stage twiddling our thumbs, John announced to the audience that we would do another number while the curtain was fixed. And so we did. [...] As we left the stage the chap working the curtains congratulated us for covering the situation so professionally. The MC also approached and congratulated us, telling us we'd performed really well and that if we wanted to go to the bar there was a pint each waiting for us."

They proceeded to get very drunk.

"Unfortunately we didn't stop at one pint. We had several. George Harrison recalls we were drinking 'black velvets'. [...] We even took drinks with us back to the green room where we continued to have quite a party. As far as I can recall, George abstained after that first beer and remained relatively sober, but in no way did he hold back from some noisy partying. At one stage I remember standing on a chair in the green room singing away at the top of my voice. We were really into it, no holds barred."

What nobody had told Colin was that they were expected to play a second set.

"George was certainly aware we were expected to do so. I can't be certain John and Paul knew, although it seems more than probable they did. Whatever any of us knew or didn't know, somehow, quite drunk and not really capable of playing, we teetered and tumbled back on stage. [...] We were ragged and by the end of the first song John and Paul were finding it hard to focus on performing at all. They were mostly laughing and joking together, lost in their own private world. As a group we were almost oblivious of the audience, completely focused on our in-jokes and stupidity. George had become quiet and acutely embarrassed. [...] In front of an audience we had wowed with our first set, we had no literally fallen apart. To prevent further embarrassment the MC ordered the curtains to be drawn."

The curtain guy and the MC both told them how they'd themselves down, and were politely disappointed in them. But John and Paul continued to find it all hilarious and make jokes. It slowly dawned on Colin that the manager of another venue, the Pivvy, had also attended specially to see them because he'd been interested in booking them for regular gigs at the bingo hall. Obviously he decided not to hire them after all and tried to be polite about it, while Paul and John made jokes about him. Pete Shotton was the one to explain all this to Colin.

"I was angry. What was really getting to me most of all was that, even though by then he wasn't in the group, Pete knew exactly what was going on but I didn't. It really struck home that once again no one had let me know what was happening. They did not seem to care. They just contacted me when they needed me. I felt like the dogsbody, a spare part. It had become the theme of the times."

Paul and John continued joking and cracking up on bus on the way home, putting on stupid voices.

"Once we settled into our seats on the top deck of the bus, unfortunately Paul continued speaking in that silly voice and I continued to let it bother me. By now I was feeling outright anger about the way the evening had panned out and Paul's voice had become the focus for my bad temper. If I had a critic in the group it was Paul, and so, subconsciously, I was probably feeling some anger towards him even before the evening had started. Everything that was irritating me and upsetting me about being in the Quarry Men was now buzzing around inside my head. That whole evening summed up how frustrated I'd become. I wasn't enjoying it anymore. The drink I'd consumed only contributed to my dark mood. I did my best to stay cool, but the more I suppressed it, the worse I felt. In the end, my temper just broke. I snapped. My temper blew and Paul was the unfortunate target of the full fury of my anger. I remember screaming at him, "Shut up, speaking in that stupid bloody voice!" Such was the fury in my voice I frightened myself, so goodness knows how he must have felt. But from that moment I had his full attention. Shock and horror registered on his face, the voice silenced. John and George both looked absolutely startled. I'd stopped them in their tracks too."

At this point Pete grabbed Colin by the arm and told him it was their stop and hurried him off the bus. It wasn't their stop, but it was the end of Colin's Quarry Man days. He simply didn't bother getting back in touch with them, or them with him. He put his drums away and put it all behind him.

Quotes from Pre:fab! by Colin Hanton and Colin Hall.

#pre:fab #colin hanton #the beatles #the quarry men

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moirasdolly · 7 months

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Digitally Yours, Moira x Fem!Reader ⊂⊂ ౨・)

Synopsis: Feeling more confident in the way you and Moira’s relationship had been going, you request a facetime date with her. She obliges, of course, and you set a time and a day. It was the only thing occupying your mind for the entire week.

Contains: NSFW, implied plus size reader, age gap, face sitting, vaginal fingering, etc,… moira is a bit freaky (in a good way)

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: Surprise - Chlöe

Chapters: 1 2

𐙚 Chapter 2: Sweet Dreams

Chats between you and the woman you had met on one of your impromptu streams had been continuing for a few months now, and you couldn’t be more happy talking to her. The parts of your day where you finally got to drop everything and text her were what you looked forward to the most. You had even exchanged phone numbers instead of using the streaming website to communicate. Of course the site wasn’t completely abandoned though. Some nights when the both of you were feeling particularly needy, you would set up a private stream just for the two of you. You dressed up for her, and she repaid you with praise and large sums of money. That’s how your “relationship” was at the moment, but you wanted more.

You lay sprawled out on your bed, your hair splayed all over your pillow as you angle your camera above you to show your face and the top of the sweet little gingham bra you wore for her tonight. “Moira…” you whine “I have an idea, I’m not sure if you’ll like it though…” You trail off softly.

Doctorsorders: I’m listening, sweetheart. Use your words you know I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.

Your heart flutters at her declaration to protect your happiness, and for a moment you can’t help but think that maybe she also felt the same way about you. It had only been a few months since you started talking regularly, but you knew you were developing feelings for the older woman.

You look to the side, contemplating if you should make the request or not, but her earlier words gave you the confidence to go ahead. Your eyes meet the camera once more before proposing your idea, “Would you maybe like to FaceTime with me? I would love to see your face… hear your voice.” Your eyes were practically pleading for her to say yes. A moment goes by without any word from Moira and you’re afraid you had scared her off, “I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just thought maybe we were at that stage.” You hesitated before finally you saw a message pop up from her.

Doctorsorders: My sweetheart, of course you didn’t overstep. In fact I’d be more than happy to set up a video call with you.

Doctorsorders: Maybe we could even discuss meeting in person as well, my doll.

A smile graces your lips almost immediately, and you squeal in joy. A million thoughts of what you should wear, how to do your makeup, and how to do your hair ran through your mind after she had agreed to reveal herself to you. “I’m sure you’re the most attractive woman I’ll ever see.” You tease her with a quiet giggle.

Doctorsorders: If you’re looking for the most attractive woman you’ll ever lay your eyes on I suggest taking a look in the nearest mirror. Look at your beautiful, plush curves, your perfectly soft stomach, and those sweet thighs of yours.

Doctorsorders: Oh how I’d love to open those thighs up and make you sing a chorus of lewd little mewls. I’d make you unable to say anything but broken cries of my name.

You press your thighs together at the thought of Moira pleasuring you, you bet her fingers were perfectly lithe and long, and her tongue thick and dexterous. You could just imagine all the things she’d do to you when you met. Another comment from her snapped you out of your daze and you’re embarrassed with how under her spell you had become.

Doctorsorders: My doll, I can practically see the cogs in your mind turning. What is it that's occupying your thoughts so intensely?

“I’m just thinking about how badly I want to see you, speak to you, have you hold me.” You confess. “I need you so badly.” You feel heat rush in between your thighs, you were already getting worked up over the prospect of meeting her.

Doctorsorders: Oh darling… my needy girl. What do you say we schedule a call for this upcoming Friday night. In only two days you’ll be able to see me. How does that sound?

A hum of agreement emerges from your throat almost immediately as you nod your head frantically. “That's all I’ll be thinking about until then.” You admit as you sit up on your bed and set your camera back on the stand.

Doctorsorders: Perfect, mo stór. I will spend every moment, every second of my days until Friday thinking about your sweet little face. You’re so perfect. I never want to end our time together, but unfortunately it is late, and I have early lab work that is calling my name for tomorrow.

Doctorsorders: Goodnight, mo stór. I expect you to get a full night of sleep. I’ll be in touch in the morning to ensure you had nice dreams. Sleep tight, doll.

Your eyes flit across the screen and you hang on to every word she tells you. You scoot forward until you’re close to the camera and give the lens a quick kiss. “Goodnight, Moira. You’ll be the very first person I message when I awaken.” You beam at the camera. “I don’t wanna leave…” A frown plays on your lips as you get ready to turn off the camera, but the sooner I sleep, the sooner tomorrow will come and then there will be just one more day ‘til we can talk face to face!” You give her a small wave before shutting off the camera and falling back onto your bed. Shortly after ending the stream, your phone lights up from another goodnight message from Moira.

Moira ♡: Goodnight mo stór. Send me a picture before you sleep. I want to see your face in my dreams tonight.

You slipped into an oversized tshirt and comfortable panties before plopping down onto your bed and snapping a quick picture of yourself. Moira always loved the cuter side of you, so you decorated it with cute little bunny and heart emojis before sending it to her.

Me: [Image Attached]

Me: Goodnight, Moira! ♡

Moira ♡: Perfect, you look lovely darling. Sweet dreams.

And with that last message, the both of you drifted off into a deep sleep, both dreaming of each other.

#moira x reader #moira o'deorain #moira x fem reader #dolly fics ♡

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emurph-24 · 6 months

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IT'S ALMOST BIG BANG TIME!!!!!

The first chapter of my Steddie Big Bang fic, titled "I'd Pray to God That You Would Choke (If I Had One)" drops on November 16th! I'm so excited for you to read this project. My artist and I have been working extremely hard to make something special for you and I really hope you all enjoy it!

As a treat, here's an excerpt from part one!

1986

After the streets of Hawkins were forcibly knit back together in secret by a super-powered fourteen-year-old girl, and her merry band of misfits, the world simply moved on. The survivors mourned the dead with memorial services and plaques around town, of course. But homes were rebuilt, streets repaved, time passed.

No one would ever know what seven kids and four young adults had done for a shithole town in the middle of Indiana. No one would know that the world was saved with makeshift shields, Molotov cocktails, and walkie-talkies. Saved by the outcasts, the freaks, the fallen kings. But it was.

When Eddie was pulled from the Upside Down, skin soaked in blood, and muck, and a surprising amount of bat guts, the world still tried to paint him as the villain. They grasped at broken straws, little crumbs of half-baked conspiracies that they could use to point a crooked finger at an innocent man. But with Jim Hopper risen from the dead, standing firmly planted on his side, the town had no choice but to listen to his story, no matter how much they complained. Of course, it was a fabricated story, a well-spun web with details filled in courtesy of Hawkins Lab and Doctor Sam Owens. There were stipulations, of course, and non-disclosures were signed by all.

Eddie was put in a private room at Hawkins Memorial after he was cleared by the government officials who swarmed in as soon as possible. There he was stitched and glued back together, held together by strings and tape.

The kids came and went, flitting between his room and Max’s down the hall, usually hauling Robin or Nancy, behind them. Occasionally, Jonathan and his friend Argyle were dragged along, but it seemed they spent their days lost to the sweet green smoke that Eddie craved.

Wayne never left his bedside, sleeping on a small cot that the nurse had rolled into the room. The plant had told him to take as much time as he needed, that his job would be there for him when he was ready. They had even offered to give him some extra pay for his bills, but Wayne wouldn’t take it. He was reluctant to ask for anything, per usual. But when the government had simply deposited a large sum of cash into his account and disappeared into the night, he couldn’t turn it away.

Steve didn’t leave either, much to Eddie’s surprise. He spent his days right there next to his bedside, stroking over the newly scarred skin of his hand. He only left for short times, usually when Eddie slept. When he returned, his hair would still be damp and a new t-shirt would be clinging to his perfectly sculpted frame. To fill their days, Steve read to him. He stumbled over the words sometimes, but it was Eddie’s favorite activity, listening to the soft melody of Steve’s voice reading to him. They got through all of The Hobbit and most of The Fellowship of the Ring before Eddie was allowed to go home. Eddie figured that was that and his life would return to its normal lonely state.

But Steve didn’t fade away when the dust had settled like Eddie was afraid he would. The government had provided him and his uncle with a new trailer, with fresh white paint and sterile floors, and Steve was the one to help Eddie make his room more like home. He had gone out and bought a plethora of posters and cassettes to fill his space with, and spent an entire day on a ladder to help hang everything up while Eddie directed him from his place in bed. He tried to say it was nothing much, just little bits of what would make his house a home. It was a kind thing, one that Eddie had not expected from the likes of Steve Harrington.

#steddie #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie big bang 2023 #steddie big bang #ao3

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wastefulreverie · 2 years

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Damon wasn't used to working at Town Hall It was a different environment from the quiet halls of Axion Labs, bustling with local board members and other administration. But Mayor Masters had offered a great sum of money for him to leave his position at Axion and come to work in his private security detail at Town Hall. He thought Valerie might have had something to do with it, but when he told her about the promotion she'd clammed up—just surprised as he'd been.

He wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. It seemed that he was beginning to bounce back from his demotion.

Damon was posted outside of Mayor Masters' office. He had a straight shot view of foot-traffic through the building and had the mayor's schedule memorized to the minute. That's when he heard a second voice in the office behind him, it was strange. Mayor Masters was supposed to be alone and no one had made it past Damon. No one was scheduled to be meeting with the mayor now and that was far too loud to be from a phone or computer.

"—pleasure to see you, little badger. Now, what is it this time?"

"You could have warned me." The other voice, a familiar young man Damon couldn't place, said. "How do I stop this? I can't show my face to anyone! Not my parents, not anyone at school. I'm done for."

Despite the young man's urgent tone, the mayor laughed. "Please, Daniel. You're being melodramatic. After all, what's a few extra teeth?"

"Don't you fucking dare."

"I thought you wanted my help? Or did you come here to gripe?"

"You don't get to tell me I'm being dramatic. You know a way to hide this. Just tell me."

"What's in it for me?"

"Me not using these stupid new teeth on your neck."

"Oh, I'm just shaking in my boots!" His voice was nothing short of facetious. "That'll get me, for sure."

"I'm not kidding around, Plasmius. Tell me how to hide this. I don't have time to waste here."

"Mm, yes. But as you can see, I also don't have the time to waste. You've caught me at a bad time at my job." The mayor rustled some papers. "I have to earn a living like everyone else, you know."

"All your money is stolen!"

Damon almost choked.

"You see, it's those sort of accusations that get you in trouble, Daniel." He paused. "Maybe if you were a little wiser with your words, I'd be able to help you with that little problem of yours. A shame."

Something fell and there was a sudden THUMP.

"I haven't gotten my wisdom teeth yet. But then again, I wasn't aware I had to worry about this set first. So I'll ask one more time before I blast it out of you." His voice was slow and articulated. "How do I hide this?"

Damon didn't like the sound of that.

He turned around and threw open the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Danny Fenton—son of the town's ghost hunters and Valerie's friend from school—had the mayor pressed against the wall in a choke-hold. Mayor Masters didn't seem any bit worried about it, and seemed rather amused until he spotted Damon. Danny was wearing a blue sweater and was noticeably a good two feet shorter than the mayor. Physically, it should be impossible for someone of his size to get the upper-hand on a man like Mayor Masters, yet he maintained his hold on him even as he turned to see who was at the door.

When Danny's striking blue eyes met Damon's own, he dropped Mayor Masters. The Mayor steadied himself well, feet landing even on the floor.

"Mr. Gray." Danny was a shade paler than he had a moment ago and when he spoke two prominent canines jutted out from his upper lip. "I swear it isn't what it looks like."

Mayor Masters clapped a hand on Danny's shoulder with a smile.

"Ah, Damon! I was just teaching Daniel here some self-defense." Here, Danny recoiled from the mayor's touch like he'd been burned. "With that bumbling father of his, heaven knows he needs it."

"What did you just say," Danny growled.

The mayor's smile widened. "Your services won't be needed for the rest of the day, I'm afraid. You can go ahead on home."

"But," he did the math in his head, "there's still three more hours left on my shift."

"You'll still be compensated for the full time," Mayor Masters assured. "Enjoy the afternoon. And please do shut the door on your way out. Daniel and I need some time alone."

Damon didn't like the way he said that at all.

But, this was his boss.

And if Danny Fenton had shown anything, it was that he could handle his own.

(That didn't make it not weird.)

If Damon turned his two weeks notice in at the end of the week, it had nothing to do with the conversation he'd interrupted at all. After all, he did prefer the quiet halls of Axion Labs.

#thinking that after val learns vlad's secret vlad tries to move damon closer to him as leverage #but obv damon realizes something is fucking weird about vlad and nopes tf out of there #Danny Phantom #Vlad Masters #Danny Fenton #Vlad Plasmius #Damon Gray #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Phic #Phicc #wrwritings

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chillwildwave · 10 months

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4Townies, my manga came today, I’ve read it already and I have a few thoughts…

It was actually quite good, what I liked is that the characters are fully fleshed out so that us, as an audience can sympathise with some of the members; for instance, Tae previously was scared to open up about his past to Jesse but after a few panels, he decided to tell him his backstory witch was quite deep with mentions of abuse from one of his parents which he is dealing with at the moment, another example is when Jesse finds out that he is adopted because his birth parents were not ready for him yet, later when he became a father, he juggles between performing and selling records with the group and his family life: this, in my opinion showcases the hidden shadow of the music industry that not much people talk about, some celebrities struggle between catching up with their schedule and their private life, which is actually quite a challenge for us human beings!

I also learned that Aaron Z has a rivalry with Robaire for a reason: it is because he’s an overachiever and is willing to achieve almost everything which results in Z becoming a nobody, from that chapter alone, he deals with self-worth, and he keeps comparing himself to Robaire as he thinks that it is the only way to keep getting better when it actually isn’t!

And of course, we know that Aaron T is Abby 2.0: you know why, he is just a ball of energy and is extremely extroverted, but when he went to a mall with a bodyguard, he isn’t aware that some fans were at the mall roaming in like an octopus with using its tentacles to grab him only for an autograph: this also shows that sometimes, when signing autographs, it can get very out of hand to the point where it just causes incidents everywhere as if it felt like Black Friday; which is also a sign of the dark side of fame.

I also absolutely adored the illustrations, when I look at them… It already feels like I’m looking at a work of art or at least a concept piece from some sort of movie, each one captures the essence of each member with so much detail, look, Imma let these explain for themselves…

Overall, this is actually a spin off that actually worked very well, from the plot, characters and illustration, it all sums up to a masterpiece, I wonder if we’ll ever hear more from them, we’ll just have to wait and see!

10/10!!!

#4town #4town aaron t #4town aaron z #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town taeyoung #disney #turning red #4*town #manga #review

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justbreakonme · 1 year

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pls tell me ur gonna do a part 3 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 preferably with sum comfort

Oh dear god, now I have to. But yes, that was the plan. This one is rather long, but 🤷🏻. It’s not quite comfort yet, but almost there. It would be way too long to put everything in one. I’ll hopefully have the actual comfort soon.

Following this:

“Caretaker?”

The nurse looked up from her clipboard, then around the waiting room.

“Yes-yes, that’s me, is everything okay? Are they awake?” Caretaker tripped over both their feet and their words as they stood up.

“Yes,” she softened, lowering her clipboard, “They’re in a good bit of pain right now, but they pulled through. We’re doing all we can to keep them comfortable.”

They nodded, unable to speak.

They’re alive. They’re gonna be okay.

“Would you follow me this way please? There are some things we would need to speak about in private.” She gestures to the door behind her and they nod once more. They were barely hearing her honestly, focused completely on the news that Whumpee had made it.

They stepped behind the door, then along a hallway and into one of many little check in rooms.

She took a seat on the stool by the computer, and moved for them to sit as well.

“So, Caretaker, we’re in a bit of a unique situation. Normally, visiting hours are extremely limited, especially with patients like Whumpee. There’s police involved, as you’re aware, on top of Whumpee being incredibly fragile at the moment.”

“Are you saying that I can’t see them?”

“No, no, not at all,” she raised her hands, palms out, placating, “Quite the opposite.”

“Then why am I in here, and not with them?”

They were so sick of waiting, and it was almost worse knowing they were so close and yet seemingly so far.

“Paperwork. And going over some things that we feel you should know before moving forward.”

What?

“What things?”

“First, you are not family to Whumpee, correct?” She pulled out a form from a thick packet on the counter beside her and clicked her pen.

“Right.”

“On their medical paperwork, you are listed as an emergency contact, but the relationship is not filled in. What relationship do you have to Whumpee?”

Neighbor? Team mate? Friend?

“Friend, I suppose.”

She nods, jotting it down. “Have you been ill within the last 6 weeks, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, fever, anything like that?”

“No, no, nothing. Why does this matter?” They we’re trying to be patient, they really were, but it was getting harder and harder.

Still, she had been nothing but considerate, and continued to be so. “I’m sorry, it’s just standard questions. Whumpee’s immune system is going to be very weak right now, and an infection could be dangerous.”

Their face turned beet red. How stupid could they be? No shit they have to check.

“I’m sorry, I see. I’ve had none of those in the past 6 weeks, I’m good.”

“I understand, you’re worried about them and it’s scary to not know what’s going on. I’m gonna get through this as fast as I can for you. Can I get your address and date of birth?”

Together, they did a kind of “speed round” of questions, filling form after form, till they got to the last one, and there were two piles aside, tagged with sticky notes.

“As you know, this is an ongoing police investigation to find out who did this to Whumpee. This form is an agreement that you will not intentionally hinder or disrupt their investigation, nor will you attempt to tamper with any answers Whumpee may give.”

“So what does that mean?”

“Well, there is an officer standing by, so they can assist with case by case questions, but basically it means not talking about the case, not providing any information, theories, or possibilities that might affect Whumpees testimony.”

“Okay…” they squint, trying to work this out in their mind, “What if they tell me things?”

“That’s fine, in fact, that could be helpful. There will be surveillance in the room for Whumpees safety, and so anything they say can be used to help investigate.”

They sighed. It was an investigation, yes, and they knew this was all for good reason, but still. They wished Whumpee could just be left alone… Let them rest and heal without someone recording or asking them questions.

“Okay, I understand.”

“Thank you,” she brushes some hair out of her face and passes the pen to them, “You’ll just need to sign or initial on the flagged lines, and then we can get you ready to go in.”

26 signatures and 41 sets of initials later, they were done and walking down the hall again to another room.

This one was lined with sinks on one side, and cabinets on the other, with nurses going in and out in various levels of protective suits.

They were handed a pair of scrubs, boot covers, and a cap to change into, then a bag for their old clothes. She pointed to a bathroom door so they could change, and they went.

This was definitely not normal procedure.

They got changed, carefully tying the cap into place, making sure every hair was tucked in, before returning. She helped them put their things into a locker, and then moved to the other wall.

“Now, we’ll wash, twice, with this,” she gestured to an orange pump bottle by the sink, “then use the sanitizer beside it.”

She started washing her hands, and Caretaker joined.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful, but if this isn’t normal procedure, why am I being allowed to see them?”

She sighed, focusing on her hands. “Well, it’s a bit complicated. Whumpee isn’t eating. Or sleeping, not without sedation. They won’t do anything meaningful to their recovery. But they have asked for you, and so I- The doctor has agreed to try bringing you in to see if that will help ease their mind enough to make progress.”

Asking for me?

“Okay… So we’d better hurry then, right?”

“Right, but not too fast, we still need to get you a mask and gloves and-“ she paused as she was pulling out a pair of gloves, “I’d like to warn you that Whumpee is in a rough place right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re still very fearful, and that combined with being in pain can make people very agitated. They’re at risk of further injuries if they try to run off or stand. They’re currently in medical restraints, just until it’s safe-“

What?!

“You put them in restraints?! What the hell is wrong with you people?!”

“They would have-“

“No wonder their still ‘fearful’ and won’t do anything, what the fuck?!”

They snatched the gloves out of the box and pulled them on, then the mask from her hand.

“Where are they?”

“Caretaker, please, I can’t bring you in until you are calm. I know, I know, and that’s what I- we hoped to avoid by bringing you in. If you’re there, they won’t have a reason to look for you.”

This hospital is run by monsters… Whumpee is rescued just to be tied back down again and poked and prodded?

They took a deep breath, pinching their nose. “If they’re calm, the restraints come off, correct?”

Their voice wobbles with rage but only slightly.

“As soon as possible,” she paused, lowering her voice, “I will argue till I’m blue in the face. I promise.”

They force themselves to relax their shoulders.

She’s not the one in the wrong. She’s trying to help. And I need to see Whumpee right now.

“Okay. I’m calm.”

They wound their way through the hospital, passing room after room, and with every passing door, Caretaker snapped their neck back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of Whumpee.

Finally, they come to the end of a hallway, to a door guarded by an officer in silver. “Hello officer, Caretaker is here to see Whumpee on Doctors orders.”

She shows the officer her key card and the paperwork, and Caretaker was curtly waved through.

“Just press the call button if you need. I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you,” they sighed, then turned back, “For everything.”

She just smiled sadly with a little shrug, before she seemed to be called back to the nurses station.

And they walked through the door into Whumpees room. Finally.

“Caretaker?”

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump prompts #whump prompt #rescue #kidnapping #whump scenario

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