mom!paige x mom!reader taking their afternoon nap with their baby girl when all of a sudden she got curious with paige’s phone and accidentally go on live on paige’s instagram
FAMILY NAP MISHAPS
fluff ◡̈
warning: none that i can think of! let me know if i missed any!
this is my first request, hopefully i did it justice.
*please excuse any grammar errors! ◡̈ *
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paige and her wife had just gotten their daughter, matilda, into the car after a meltdown about not wanting to leave the park. little tilly definitely had no chill, and was just go, go, go. so it wasn’t surprising she was upset about leaving.
they were exhausted to say the least, and tilly? oh she was knocked out. completely asleep in her car seat two seconds into the drive home. paige looking in the rearview mirror and then over to her wife for a split second before saying “you know since we are already tired, and she’s napping so she’s for sure going to stay up late tonight, we should take naps too. we have to prepare.” paige’s wife laughing, “you say that like we are going to war” paige rolls her eyes “we might as well be with how insane she is coming off of her nap time high.” “well i am pretty sleepy, i guess a nap to prepare for the tilly war sounds nice.”
when they finally arrive home, paige’s wife going inside to start getting herself nap ready while paige was tasked with getting their daughter in the house without waking her. tilly looked so peaceful in her sleep but paige was just stuck wondering how she manages to sleep with her head at that angle in her car seat. paige unbuckled her as quietly as possible, and picks her up as gently as possible trying to keep her asleep. to paige’s disappointment tilly opens her eyes “mama?” “shhhh go back to sleep, you’re sleepy.” “play?” “no baby it’s nap time. we can play after nap time.”
immediately taking offense tilly cried “mama mean” “see baby you’re so upset because you’re still sleepy. you need a nap.” tilly tried very hard to push herself away from paige, paige sighing and putting her down. this child was always going to test her patience. her wife had been telling her since they had matilda that paige felt so challenged because tilly was her. they acted the exact same.
tilly immediately running to find her mommy. “mommy, mama mean. want you” immediately picking tilly up asking her what’s wrong “how is mama being mean baby? what’s the matter?” tilly just pouted holding onto her mommy. “babe, why is tilly so upset?” she asked hearing paige finally walking inside “i told her it was nap time and she would have to wait until after to play.” paige’s wife giggles and looks at tilly, who’s sitting there staring at paige, like she had just threw away all of her stuffed animals. “wanna play now” tilly states. “tilly baby we can’t always get our way, mama is right you do need a nap, we are all going to take a nap. “mommy nap with me?” “yes baby, mama and i will both nap with you.”
after all three of them got ready for their nap, they’re finally all laying in bed. tilly between them, clearly favoring her mommy, since she’s still holding a grudge against paige not letting her play. paige had even attempted to turn on her side and hold both of her girls, but tilly whined and tried kicking her off. “no tilly. kicking is not nice. apologize to mama” her mommy immediately corrected. tilly rolled over snuggling up at paige “im sorry mama, didn’t mean to make you sad, i just wanted mommy because you made me sad” “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad, mama just knew you were tired and needed to sleep after using that much energy at the park. me and mommy always know what’s best, we would never mean to upset you we just know what’s best for you.” paige says frowning knowing she made her princess sad, but she knows it was for a good reason. “i love you mama” “mama loves you more princess tilly” paige says snuggling up finally with both of her girls. they all ended up finally getting that nap.
an hour or so later tilly wakes up, she sees a phone next to her mama. obviously her little toddler mind wants to play with the phone. she always sees her moms using them, she wants to, too. somehow after some messing around she finds talking to her aunt kk? “aunt kk!! miss you” “i miss you too tilly girl! how did you get your mamas phone?” kk asks confused. “mama and mommy sleeping, and i awake, so i play on phone” tilly says like it’s obvious. “tilly girl can you wake up your mama? i wanna talk to her” tilly immediately nods and starts shaking paige “mama wake up, aunt kk wants to talk to you” paige grumbles “tilly baby, go back to sleep” “no mama wake up kk wants you” “tilly i thought we were all nappi- wait did you say aunt kk? what is going on?” paige says immediately getting up.
“what’s up p boogers?? tilly girl went live somehow on your phone and i joined” kk says half laughing at paige’s confused face. “how does a almost three year old even figure that out?? she can’t even read” paige says shocked. “mama mad?” tilly asks suddenly aware that she did something she wasn’t supposed to. “no baby mama isn’t mad at you, i’m honestly impressed you managed to do that. we do need to talk about not using mama’s phone when she’s not with you though.” paige says smiling at her little princess. “okay guys that’s enough of tilly’s nap time shenanigans. i’m going to get off live now, well end tilly’s live” paige says laughing while reading the chat. “say bye bye tills” “bye bye aunt kk, bye bye peoples” tilly says as paige ends the live.
For @1-wonder-1 ‘s SLH AU. A short fanfiction about Jax’s FND. I have a lot of self projection head cannons in this.
TW mention of seizure
It wasn’t anything new, Jax’s seizures. But they only happened occasionally, not weekly or daily or anything like that.
After the ‘escape the hospital’ ‘adventure’ Dr. Abel and Caine put on, he almost abstracted. But, Caine saved him, he hated that he did. He started to have even more health issues.
Jax was in more pain than he could ever imagine: pins and needles all over the black patches of his partially abstracted areas, the eyes stared at him, his vision was horrible, globs of color and smudgy patches of black clouded his vision, leaving him practically blind.
No one except for Pomni could understand his warped, glitchy, muffled speech. It angered him, he couldn’t communicate through anything but lashing out, kicking, screaming, biting, punching, squirming, or head nods and shakes.
Along with his chronic pain due to his nervous system dysfunction, the stiff muscles, the dystonia, the coordination issues, choking on even the most puréed food, the loss of muscle tone causing drop attacks, there were his seizures.
They started back up again after only happening occasionally. Now they happened nearly everyday, he would feel this heavy weight in his head, his mouth would taste disgustingly bitter, then he blacked out. When he woke up, everything was extremely confusing, achy, and he was exhausted. He figured out why soon after, when he came across Caines notes on him that he peeked at during an examination a couple days ago. He had knew he had seizures, but never knew what they looked like.
Of course, Jax could only see this paper for a couple seconds before Caine moved the clipboard from his view.
“Let’s not look at my things, okay buddy?” Caine admonished, speaking in a softer tone than usual. He hated it, hated being babied, hated being patronized like this everyday.
“You want to hang out with your friends before bed?” Jax didn’t fully hear what Caine was saying, nor understand it. Everything was warped, even his hearing was staticky and muffled.
Jax grunted, his head shaking side to side, a tic, but Caine didn’t know yet the difference between this and shaking your head no.
“Okay, I understand. Let’s get you to your room then, yeah? It’s time to sleep.”
Caine took Jax’s arm, holding it tightly as he led him out of the exam room.
The walls were too colorful, too bright, it caused his head to pound. Then there was that damn light flickering, Dr Abel really needed to fix it.
His head suddenly felt heavy, and it felt as if all his muscles turned off, he fell forward.
“Jax!” Caine exclaimed, quickly catching him before he plummeted to the floor.
“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Caine reassured, feeling Jax’s muscles begin to tense. A loud, ghastly grunt came from his throat as his body pushed all the air out of his lungs.
Jax was rolled onto his right side, Caines jacket layed under his head. Caine had to keep Jax’s airways open, as his asthma already made it difficult to breathe well, his seizures made his chest tighten up and he was unable to breathe.
Then came the convulsing, Jax’s legs kicked and thrashed, one of his arms flexed and the other extended tightly, twitching and writhing. Jax’s eyes shut harshly, his jaw clenched so hard it would be a miracle if he hadn’t broken a tooth.
“Come on, breathe, breathe Jax.” Caine coaxed, watching as Jax involuntarily held his breath every couple seconds.
It had been exactly 5 minutes, one of Jax’s shortest seizures, before his muscles relaxed and his breathing returned to semi-normal.
“Jax, can you hear me? If you can hear me squeeze my hand.” Caine held Jax’s hand softly, but Jax didn’t squeeze back. His eyes did flutter open, though.
“There you go, buddy, good job.” Caine crooned, rubbing the purple rabbit’s back soothingly.
He picked up his radio from his pocket, “Can I have Dr. Moon in the north hallway? I need assistance transporting patient #001 to his room.”
Soon enough, Dr moon was there, kneeling down next to Jax.
“Hey, Jax, let’s get you to bed, okay sweetheart?” Dr. Moon said quietly, wrapping her elbow under Jax’s armpit, and Caine did the same on the other side. They both got him to his feet, keeping him steady as he simply shook his head no, too tired to fight back.
Once he was at his room, Caine and Dr. Moon laid Jax in his bed. They pulled over his snug compression sheet, allowing some but not much movement, as if he were without any type of restraint, he would cause mayhem. Keeping others up at night, wandering the halls, kicking objects, refuse to sleep, etc.
“Are you comfortable, Jax?” Dr. Moon asked, plugging in his white noise machine.
Jax just let out a small squeak, his body hurt, his head hurt, he couldn’t ask for pain medicine, he wouldn’t be understood. Tears welled in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.
Hello? My darlings? Is anyone there? Psspspsps????? Are you hungry? Do you need to be fed?
Here, have some hairy Terzo porn. I love you. I like you. I miss you!
The warm light dances off the trees that stand watch over the bonfires that are scattered from Primo’s garden to the birch clearing to the swimming hole. Siblings and ghouls and Papas all dance and fuck and celebrate the sabbat. A feast precede the outdoor merriment and, like Papa Perpetua proclaimed on his first Imbolc, his people must be fed, fucked and festive. And so, the festivities began.
Drums pound and voices sing on high; celebrating the return of light and the impending season it brings on its rays of heat. Green grass, bright flowers, sweet, warm days.
But now, you sit on a blanket, another wrapped around your shoulders, in front of a small fire. Though the snow has melted off, the ground relatively dry, and you manifest balmy, spring days - it’s still winter. A ways off, the big bonfire rages on; loud and happy, you stayed for a bit but slipped off into the shadows to worship - and revel - for a bit on your own.
You sip spiced wine and sprinkle herbs - lavender and rosemary - onto the fire. Holding your hands out, palms towards the stars, you pray. “May Brigid bless my heart, the home wherein my true self dwells. May she bless my fire, my body, my soul - the refuge of my power. May Brigid protect me with fire and bless me with warmth.” The sprigs of herbs crackle as the light over the low flames and you inhale the aromatic smoky tendrils of magic that curl towards the sky. You pause, eyes still closed, while a smiling, familiar mouth presses a warm kiss to the palm of your hand.
“Keep going.” Terzo says, quietly.
Terzo keeps your hand against his mouth, kissing your fingertips, teeth grazing the soft flesh of your wrist; your heartbeat pounds against his lips. It’s late in the day, his face is prickled with dark shadow. He smells like wine and fire and a sneaky cigarette. Without even looking at him he is, wholeheartedly, distracting. Still, you continue. “I call to Brigid, kind and clever. Brigid of healing and hammers. Brigid who inspires. Brigids who calms and protects and lights the way.” With your free hand, you take a pinch of bay leaves and toss them onto the fire; they smoke and snap and light. “Oh, goddess of patience and peace. Goddess of fire. I ask for the blessing of your presence and the blessing of your peace.”
When you finish, you take a moment and let your words float up into the stars like the smoke of your fire and, after another minute of - relative - quiet, you open your eyes. Terzo is there, sitting next to you; he faces away from the fire- staring deep into your soul - propped up on his arm. His dress shirt is unbuttoned, hanging open. You bite your lip and slide your fingers up his belly, pausing to admire the thick hair that converges at his sternum. “You pray nice.” He says, grin sliding into a smile.
“What are you doing over here, Papa?” You ask, walking your fingers up his throat, pressing your forefinger against his lip and he opens his mouth, gently biting the tip. When he releases you, you slide it back down to his chest; the thick carpet of hair from his collarbones to -you know well - his cock enthralls you. You know it carries on straight down to his ankles. And then a delectable smattering on his toes. Yes, yes. You like what you see. You arch an eyebrow at Terzo, waiting for an answer.
Terzo exhales and hums, wallowing in a touch of his perpetual dramatics, he lets his head fall back, staring at the stars. It’s cold enough that his breath comes out in puffs. “It’s hot.” He giggles and looks back at you. “And everyone else seems to be getting the holy spirits but me.”
“We don’t get the holy spirit here, Papa. That’s the baptists.”
Terzo huffs. “Well, I tell you they are getting something and I am not.”
“Oh, my poor kitten.” You whine, playfully. You lean forward and kiss Terzo; he lets out a delicious, needy moan and melts into you. When you pull away from him, his mouth follows. “It must be so hard to be you.”
Terzo glares at you but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “You have wine?” he asks and you smile, nodding.
You fish out a spare glass and another bottle of wine - you were sure to bring plenty - from your basket of supplies; all the while, Terzo nuzzles into your neck, planting a field of kisses across the slope of your shoulder. “I was worshipping, you know.” You say, uncorking the wine and giving the sweet, dark, red a sniff.
“Oh, and you were doing such a wonderful job.” Terzo’s tongue sears into your skin, running up your neck before finding your ear lobe.
“You’re not supposed to be distracting me from my dark path, Papa. You’re supposed to be encouraging me, leading me down it.” You chide him, pressing the glass of wine into his hand. “Copia would never interrupt me.”
Terzo narrows his eyes. “Are you going to be this particular all night? Or are you going to let me make love to you, hm?”
You stare at Terzo and he bumps his nose against yours. You giggle and take a long sip, making him squirm a bit, awaiting your answer.. “I did ask Brigid to bless my body. I just didn’t think she’d send you.” You pause for a breath, taking the moment to kiss Terzo, again. This time it’s harder, needier. “Why did you come over here, Terzo? Tell me really.”
He toys with the hem of your dress, pushing it up your thigh an aching inch; revealing nothing, making you want everything. “Everyone is fucking. Or dancing. Or, if you are Primo and unnaturally - and disgustingly - limber for your age, fucking while dancing. And I want to celebrate the sabbat, too. To worship.” He nods towards the fire. “Worship her.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, brushing his lips against yours. His eyes flash, meeting yours and goosebumps prickle up your spine. “Worship you.”
You take Terzo’s glass, and yours, and set them aside. You push the blanket off your shoulders and scoot closer to Terzo. You lean into him and he watches you, unmoving, patiently, humbly waiting for your consent. “I am not her. It is not my night to be worshipped.”
Terzo smirks, eyes hooded and dark with lust. “Ah, you are wrong.”
You snort a quiet laugh. “Oh?”
“Si, si.” He exhales. “This is why you need me - to keep you on your path, guide you along. You know nothing.” You pinch his nipples and he squeaks in delight. Terzo’s finger pushes the thin strap of your linen gown down your shoulder. “You are a goddess. Mia dea. La mia lionessa. You are to be worshipped every day - fire or no - in every season, under every moon.” Terzo’s fingertip slides from your shoulder, across your collarbone, to your opposite shoulder, dethroning the other strap of your dress; the soft, dark linen falls and so do Terzo’s eyes. For a moment, the mismatched irises and blown pupils stare at your bare torso. The back of his fingers slide down your chest, the rough hair on the back of his hand grazes your aching nipple and you suck in a breath. “Bless me, oh goddess.” His gaze comes back to yours. “Bless me and you will find that my devotions lie far beyond the gifts of my flesh.”
You shake your head and smile, taking Terzo’s hand and pressing it against your thigh, pulling it up towards your center, taking your dress with it. The cool night air is no match for the heat in Terzo’s eyes and the warmth of his hands. “I accept your flesh as sacrifice but, I do not require it. That isn’t what I want.”
“Tell me so that I may give it to you. Tell me what I must do - anything at all - to be yours.”
You press your hand to Terzo’s chest, his pounding heart beneath your palm. “This.”
Terzo giggles and kisses you then, pushing you backwards onto the blankets. He nestles his hips between your thighs and you wrap your legs around his waist. “Oh, mia dea! Mia bellissima dea, sono tua!”
His shirt flung over his shoulder, Terzo fumbles with his pants, his mouth busy and his mind busier - leaning down to kiss you. He doesn’t hold back any longer: his tongue dances with yours and he whines and moans, hips bucking while he tries to get his pants down - he is his own hindrance. You slide your hands and try to help him but he swats you away. “Goddesses lay back. Goddesses are worshiped. They do not set their altars, they do not bring forth their own offerings.” I roll my eyes but, obey, scratching my nails back up through his body hair.
“I like this.” You smile up at him. He pauses for a second, brow knit tight with confusion, eyes narrowed. “What? What’s wrong?” You ask.
“You say when,” He clears his throat, “When you put your hand here,” He moves his hand back to his heart. “You mean my heart, my love, yes? You are not talking about my hairy body, right?”
You hesitate for a second and then, as Papa taught you - you say what you want. “I want both, Papa. Hairy body, perfect heart. All of you.”
Terzo relaxes, beaming. “It is all yours.”
Distracted by the way he looks at you, the way his hair falls in his face, the way he smiles and the way he breathes; chest rising and falling in excitement you whimper - gasping - when Terzo rubs the head of his cock against your tender core, raking your nails down his arms. Your mewling turns to quiet begging, his mouth covers yours, devouring the sounds you make for him. No, the sounds you bless him with. He puts his hands, and then his forearms, on either side of your face, caging you in. You arch up, as much as you can against his body. “My goddess; demanding more.” Terzo purrs and you smile, kissing him, sighing in relief when he pushes into you slowly; just enough to ease your need, satiate your divine cravings. It has been awhile since you’d had Terzo; a slow roll of his hips gives you a taste of the thick base of his cock. The coarse hair that wreathes it prickles against your clit and you shiver.
You let you a shaking breath, eyes already rolling. “More.”
When he bottoms out, pressing hard and tight inside of you, filling you so completely you threaten to come then and there you inhale sharply, eyes going wide. You stare up at Terzo and he stares down at you and for a moment, the love and devotion in his eyes makes you wonder if maybe you actually are a goddess. He closes what little space is left between you and him, grinding - hot and wet - into you. You imagine he is a reverent devotee, you are mortar and pestle and herbal offering. You are altar and goddess. He is priest and zealot. Slowly, intentionally, he works into you; your eyes roll and your mouth hangs open, slackjawed and smiling - accepting your faithful disciples' alms with pleasure and gratitude. Your orgasm is a deliciously slow, an aching roll of pleasure that starts in your center and pulses out like hot summer lightning and trembles like the thunder that follows.
Brigid’s blessing rolls through you hot and bright as the fire you burn for her.
You push Terzo’s hair out of his face, cupping his cheek, pressing your other hand to his chest. “Come for me,” you call to Terzo, “Give your last offering, sweet one.”
Terzo presses his forehead to yours, squeezing his eyes shut. He lets out a whimper with each snap of his hips, the sound alone brings you to the brink of another orgasm - the erratic pace of his hips, bucking wildly as he chases his own pleasure does the trick. You come when Terzo does, sobbing into his cheek, arms around him, keeping him close while he gasps for breath. For a moment, you think you both might actually die - the little death turning into a very real possibility: out of breath, shaking, clinging to each other. Terzo’s body works on his own accord and he wheezes, each time you tighten around him, he cries out.
When he finally stills, you don’t let go. The stars above you twinkle brightly, competing well with the full moon. You press your lips to his cheek, to his ear. You run your fingers up and down his back, through his hair. Finally, Terzo falls to the side and you both yelp at the sudden absence of the other; together - giggling - you work to cover up beneath your blankets and find the bottle of wine. Terzo holds you, your rest with your head on his chest; fingers pushing his chest hair in and out of place, caressing nails pulling him in and out of a happy, sex-hazed sleep. You both stare at the fire for a long time, listening to the celebrations around you. Chanting, singing, music - cries of pleasure not unlike your own - fill the forest with a symphony of sabbat celebrations.
In the morning, you wake in Terzo’s bed - delighted to find that you slept on a soft mattress, under piles of blankets, wearing Terzo’s silk pajamas. You roll over and find him sleeping peacefully next to you. You lean over and kiss his chest, nuzzling into his sternum. He stretches and groans. “Well,” he yawns. “You had a good Imbolc, yes?”
“Oh, yes.” You laugh, gazing up at your smiling Papa and he smiles back, as bright as the sun. You thank Brigid for her gift of the love and warmth and light that is Terzo. “Imbolc is my favorite holiday.”
so this week's been horrible, then I got bored at work and decided why not do a McShep 5 (+1) So...enjoy:
1.
"Are you okay?" Sheppard stretched his hand out as the worst of the tremors settled. Rodney grimaced at the dust and grime that had settled over his uniform, just what he needed. A total mess. And who knows what that would have done to the equipment!
Resolutely ignoring the proffered hand, he clambered to his feet and brushed himself off.
"I thought this planet was meant to be stable!" He huffed, casting a suspicious glance at the ceiling above.
"'Quakes happen anywhere, I guess." Sheppard shrugged, lowering his hand and settling it on his P-90 instead. His standard 'I'm-too-relaxed-for-being-off-world' look firmly in place.
Rodney scowled.
"Oh yes, sorry, I forgot we had our resident expert on mission. Please remind me what area your doctorate was in again?"
"Probably a more relevant field than yours, McKay." Sheppard smirked, that incredibly annoying smirk that made Rodney's insides squirm, and moved away towards the door. His hand was moving to his ear - probably about to check in with Teyla and Ford - apparently switched off from the conversation already.
With a soft huff Rodney turned back to his tablet, checking quickly for any damage before he started up the tests again, only vaguely aware of Sheppard's continued presence.
2.
"Are you okay?" Sheppard's face was white, except for the slow, sludge-like trickle of blood from his forehead.
Rodney blinked stupidly at him. There was a ringing in his ears, his head felt like it was full of static and his whole body felt weak. What the hell had happened? Another blink. He couldn't remember.
Panic began to rise inside him, bile clawing its way up his throat. Why couldn't he remember? Where was he? Oh God, not good, really not good!
"Rodney, look at me." Sheppard's voice seemed far away, like he was calling down a long tunnel. There was darkness clinging to the edge of his vision. His head was spinning. "Rodney!" It was an order, barked and fierce and it pulled Rodney back automatically. He met Sheppard's gaze, feeling the panic ease ever so slightly. "Good. You're gonna be fine, okay? I'm going to get you out of here. I promise." Rodney nodded mutely. He believed him. Sheppard would keep him safe, he'd get him home. He'd figure this out.
3.
"Are you okay?" Sheppard cocked his head to one side, watching Rodney with a mixture of amusement and something that looked terrifyingly like affection.
"Oh yes, peachy," Rodney growled, trying to limit the damage from his spilled coffee on his jacket and desk, "I absolutely love it when people sneak up on me in the lab and I lose my hard earned coffee, almost wrecking vital and life-sustaining equipment in the process." Giving up on saving his jacket he used the sleeve to mop up the worst of the spreading liquid. "Seriously, you should wear a bell or something. At least that way we'd hear you coming."
Thankfully the lab was empty, had been for a good few hours now, so only Sheppard had been witness to his surprise. But still! This was his lab, it should be a safe haven, not somewhere he had to look over his shoulder!
"Mm, so you can pretend you're not out here working at 3am?" Sheppard settled his hip against the edge of Rodney's desk, his arms folded across his chest.
"It's not 3am!" Rodney scoffed, raising his arm to glance at his watch and he winced. Ah. Perhaps he'd been at this a little bit longer than he'd thought. "Well," he backpedaled quickly, "someone's got to keep an eye on this city to make sure she keeps running. Besides, you know the backlog of testing we have. Sometimes beauty sleep can wait."
The Colonel remained silently, stubbornly leant against his desk, so close that Rodney could smell his damn aftershave even at this time of night. It was irritatingly distracting.
"Do you mind?" He poked at Sheppard's hip with one finger; with any luck he'd leave or at least put a bit of distance between them.
"Kinda," Sheppard shrugged, "I think that beauty sleep's calling for you, Rodney. Come on." Finally Sheppard pushed himself off the desk, but he refused to leave until Rodney followed. He insisted on walking him right to his quarters, even waited outside until he heard the lock click shut behind him. And Rodney most certainly didn't listen out for his footsteps clicking away down the corridor.
4.
"Are you okay?" Sheppard's voice was soft - stable, but Rodney could sense the uncertainty in his tone.
Rodney couldn't blame him. He felt empty. Like a husk. Like he'd been fed on by a Wraith. Nothing more to give.
Kidnapped, bound, gagged, beaten - he wouldn't go so far as tortured, not even his dramatic flair wanted to go there right now.
Hands gripped his shoulders, dragging him back to reality. The warmth of skin through the torn remnants of his jacket caused a shiver to run down his spine. His throat was parched, scratchy. He hadn't spoken for days. It hadn't mattered to his captors if he'd spilt his darkest secrets, nothing had stopped them.
"Rodney, buddy," slowly, and with a great effort, Rodney lifted his head and caught Sheppard's eye. There was no humour, no light on Sheppard's face, even the smile that he forced his lips into looked wrong. Instead Rodney could sense anger rolling off him like waves. Tightly controlled anger. His whole body seemed coiled like a spring; but his eyes were…kind. Caring.
Rodney swallowed thickly, his own eyes suddenly burning.
"John." He croaked, reaching out with a trembling hand to lightly grasp Sheppard's elbow, trying to ground himself, to prove to himself this was real.
"I'm here."
The first tear rolled down Rodney's cheek and he hung his head, leaning forwards almost without thinking, until John's arms wrapped around him.
5.
"Are you okay?"
Rodney blinked once, twice, the world slowly coming back into focus. His lips were tingling, his heart hammering against his ribs. Before him Sheppard at least had the grace to look a little uncertain.
"I -" Rodney started, but words failed him. His brain was blank. Stuck replaying the kiss over and over again. The way Sheppard had stepped forwards. Hw his gaze had dipped to Rodney's lips. The siren of panic in Rodney's head and then the silence as their lips met.
It was what Rodney had been dreaming about for five years now. Ever since he'd accepted the fact that John Sheppard was ridiculously attractive and, therefore, he stood no chance at all. But then they'd become friends, best friends even and now…
"Oh god," Rodney's eyes widened, "this - you don't - this is a bet, right? Or - oh god…" this was surely going to ruin everything! He was going to lose the second best friend he'd ever had in his life. It was Carson all over again. Except this time there'd be no death, no clone, just John Sheppard waltzing around the city, being normal whilst Rodney pined.
"Whoa, Rodney," Sheppard's hands tightened on his hips - where they were still resting. Surely he should have pulled them away by now? There should be some distance between them right? "No. No bet. No weird Ancient tech. I just —" Sheppard broke off and when Rodney caught his eye, he saw a flash of fear. "I thought —"
Oh.
"So…this is…real?" Rodney asked slowly, his hands twitching at his sides where, embarrassingly, they'd remained the whole time. A sharp pinch at the soft roll of skin at his hip had him gasping. "Oi!"
"Sure seems real to me." The concern he'd spotted in Sheppard's eyes had gone now, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his lips. Like he suddenly understood Rodney was buffering, slowly fitting the pieces together and about to get onboard.
Another pause. Silence stretching between them, before Rodney launched himself forwards, his arms wrapping around John's neck and their lips meeting once more. One hand worked its way into that perpetually messy hair, twisting until he forced a gasp from John's lips and could slip his tongue forwards.
Definitely real!
+1.
"Are you okay?" Rodney asked, a ray of moonlight falling across the bed, illuminating one side of John's face. They were both panting, their skin flushed pink and slick with sweat. The floor was a jumble of clothes and shoes, kicked and thrown haphazardly as they'd flung themselves towards the bed. Gently, almost reverently he brushed a finger over John's bare shoulder.
Sometimes he still couldn't believe this was actually happening. That this was his life. That after everything, all his screw ups, his outbursts, his arrogant rants…he got this.
"Yeah," John's voice was quiet, but as he tilted his head towards Rodney, he could see the blissed out smile settling across his lips, "just gotta catch my breath."
Rodney hummed smugly, settling next to John so his head could fit into the crook of his neck. "You're welcome."
the divine right (circumstance never sent a fair foe
Returning to Antiva City always, without fail, sets his teeth on edge.
It started when he first caught sight of the uncomfortably familiar turrets atop the Royal Palace – when he was a boy, his mother pointed them out once and told him that one of those rooms could be his, if he was a very good boy and impressed his Papa when they visited.
(Even now, he can remember the bittersweet stink of herbal smoke and rich wine that wrapped around her like a shroud.)
(Viago was never quite good enough.)
chapter twenty-four is now yours.
after the news of the last chapter we finally arrive in antiva city and that cabbage merchant must be pretty pissed...
Hux isn't good at the physical interaction side of a relationship outside of sex. And even that, he's not, it's been a learning curve. He's not good at hugging, Force knows he can probably count on just his two hands how many hugs he can remember receiving, but he's getting better.
Less restrained, more willing to initiate.
When he gets back to his quarters and finds Ren pacing erratically through the space, muttering to himself as he seems to gesticulate to an invisible conversation partner, Hux hesitates. He's not in tune with the Force, but he's becoming more in tune with Kylo's moods and behaviours, and this, even for him, is strange.
"Ren." He doesn't raise his voice; doesn't dare, but he knows how to make himself heard, though he's not this time. "Ren." Again, no response, and the pacing continues. "Kylo." A brief twitch, Kylo turns his head for an instant then goes back.
Hux sighs and pulls his gloves off, drops them on his desk and drapes him coat over his chair.
"Kylo," he doesn't give the other man time to react, banking on surprise when Kylo should have every advantage. Grabs his shoulder and pulls them both down onto the couch, landing himself on the solid body beneath him and holding him, arms round his shoulders. "Kylo." He squeezes. It's not a good hug, more a grapple, and he holds on tight as Kylo tenses, reacts, and then relaxes into it, as the murmuring stops and Kylo comes back to the room.
"Hux." His voice is even rougher than normal, "I... Stay, please." He asks quietly, clinging back against Hux.
"Are you back?"
All he gets is a nod in response, Kylo's head bumping against his, but it's enough, for now.
She doesn't know what makes her stop. She's walked past this stand a lot of times, the moving pictures barely catching her eye before she continues on her way. But something inside her makes her stop today. Hand over a sickle to the tender and take a copy of the Daily Prophet before she continues her daily errands.
It's not until she's home, everything unpacked, the door locked thrice and a cup of tea on the table in front of her did she finally pull out the bunch of papers she'd felt compelled to buy. The air suddenly feels like it's sucked out of the room and she can barely breathe.
Breaking News!
The Wizarding Community is on high alert at the news that Dark Wizard, Sebastian Sallow, has escaped Azkaban prison. The 24-Year-old has been in Azkaban since being convicted of the murder of his uncle in the winter of 1891. Nothing has yet been released on how he escaped the notorious prison, but we urge the community to stay safe and vigilant.
She doesn't even finish reading, instead, her eyes find their way to the picture next to it. A fifteen-year-old Sebastian stares out at her, a frown on his lips, dark eyebrows furrowed, and a look of sadness, betrayal, and regret in his eyes. She couldn't bear it, instead, she whipped out her wand and cast a quick Incendio, the Prophet immediately turning to ash on the table. How could she have been so naive to have thought the Wizengamot would've gone easy on him given everything? She may have only been 15, and while she'd been a part of the community for a good few months, she should have known that an Unforgivable - especially Avada Kadavra - would land someone in Azkaban for life. Something that Sebastian Sallow didn't deserve, regardless of his actions.
With another flick of her wand and the ash is gone, cleaned up, and almost forgotten. Her elbows rest on the table, her face buried in her hands as she sobs for the first time in years for what was lost - she'd only wanted him to learn his lesson, she hadn't wanted to lose him. Hadn't anticipated the entire fallout. Anne and Ominis had been beside her at the time, happy for her to be the one responsible to make the decision - probably to save themselves the guilt of it - but also likely using her naivety and lack of understanding of the Wizarding Law in hopes she wouldn't feel the guilt herself.
That had lasted all of three days when she saw the article detailing Sebastian’s sentencing. That had been the first time she'd broken down about her decision, she'd screamed at Ominis in the Undercroft for not telling her turning him in meant never seeing him again. She'd collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his chest but the thought that it wasn't Sebastian brought the sobs harder and faster until she pushed Ominis away and curled in on herself.
She'd finished her last two years of Hogwarts in silence, only speaking when a professor asked something of her. She pulled away from the many friends she'd made during that fateful year - not from their lack of trying - she just couldn't. She spent any time not in class in the Room of Requirements, she'd even gone through a period where she didn't eat because she couldn't face the Great Hall. But Deek had caught wind of that and made sure to always have something set on a table for her.
For as excited as she was to attend Hogwarts, leaving had felt like a relief. There were too many memories haunting her of him, and the friends she'd left behind. Part of her had wanted to run as far away from Scotland as she could, but the other part - the larger part - couldn't.
Even if she couldn't be with him, she wanted to be close.
The thought terrified her, he knew it was her decision. He'd looked so angry, so hurt as he was hauled away by the Aurors and the article detailing his sentence had quoted him. He'd promised he'd get revenge.
It was stupid of her - likely still naivety - that made her move from the Highlands surrounding Hogwarts to a small Hamlet in the northernmost area of Scotland. She'd managed to buy a single cottage on the outer edge of the hamlet, the back leading to the forest and while being there was lonely, she hadn't made much of an effort to befriend anyone. It was private, it was hers, and honestly, if Sebastian had to deal with life alone because of her. She felt she deserved it too.
Her sobs quieted after some minutes, the air in the room still heavy with the melancholy she felt. Her tea had gone cold, not that she felt she could stomach it. Her insides were in knots, she felt that any attempt to eat or drink could cause her to vomit. Any movement could cause her to collapse further in on herself.
She took a deep breath, a sigh escaping her as she reminded herself that no one knew where she lived. Not from lack of trying on their part, Ominis, Natty & Poppy had continued to try and open her back up for her last two years to no avail. Following their graduation, they'd reached out via Owl. Although the more she ignored them, the less they came.
A knock at her door pulled her from her increasingly spiraling thoughts and she frowned, pulling herself up slowly from the table. "Who is it?" She called cautiously, although it probably wasn't her best idea. It was likely just the friendly old woman down from the house closest offering her something she'd baked.
"Open the door, it's Ominis." Her eyebrows furrowed then, stepping closer to the door but not unlocking it.
"How do you know where I live?"
"I work for the Ministry, it wasn't hard." She felt a pang in her chest at his clipped words, she'd never admit it but she had missed it, missed him. Finally unlocking her door and pulling it open, she took a look at Ominis. The years had treated him well, his hair was still slicked back and his suit still made him look as regal as he always did.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, a little exasperated at the situation. Her words, while firm, still held the edge they did when she'd been crying and she hoped it had been long enough that her unexpected guest didn't notice.
"Checking in. I don't suppose you heard the news." And there it was, his way of letting her know he still cared but not in such a way she'd run and lock the door in his face. "Sebastian escaped." Stepping back slightly, audibly so that he knew he could come in.
"I did catch a glimpse at the Prophet, yes. Is that why you're here?" She asked, her voice needlessly harsh as she continued. "Here to see if I'm hiding him somewhere?"
"No, of course not." He mentioned with a frown of his own. "You surely remember what he said upon sentencing. I was merely worried about you." The words took all of the fight from her and once again she found her lip trembling as she held back her tears, another wave of guilt washing over her.
"How long has he been out?" She brings herself to ask, the newspaper was from today, sure. But if Ominis thought Sebastian could have already found his way to her, perhaps it'd been a few days.
"We think he escaped Monday, but we can't be sure. The guard he'd managed to switch with was in no condition to talk." Monday… They thought Monday and he'd only shown today for fear of her safety. It was Saturday for Merlin's sake. She felt a small flame of anger flicker in her chest. "No one realized until Thursday when the next guard was sent through."
She couldn't help but laugh at the sheer stupidity. No one noticed a guard had disappeared on his rounds. She knew the tales of Azkaban were horror stories, but for Helena's sake, she didn't expect them to be that bad. She could only imagine what it was like to be there full-time.
And that thought was enough to snuff out the anger and bring back the melancholy from earlier.
"If you're wanting to look around, just in case. I haven't been home for long." She murmured, not even sure why she'd said it. But Ominis was quick to nod, his wand flashing its usual red as he walked around the small cottage. Picking up the cup of forgotten tea, she couldn't help but feel on edge, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the news of Sebastian or if it was because there was someone other than herself in her house. No one else had been here since she moved in six years.
She busied herself doing the dishes, staring out the window into the small Hamlet until Ominis had finished his sweep. She could feel him standing by the table but she didn't turn, neither of them saying anything for a while.
"I think it's time you-"
"I want you to write to-"
They both spoke at the same time, and she finally pulled her eyes from the children she saw running in the field to look at her guest. "You first." He assured, clearing his throat. She suddenly felt a little awkward, her nose wrinkling slightly as she thought back on what she was going to say.
"No, you first." She finally decided it was for the best since she'd been about to tell him to leave.
"I want you to write to me, let me know you're okay at least weekly." Her brows furrowed and she felt another flicker of irritation.
"I'm sure I'll be fine, Ominis. I made sure that when I moved here no one would know me or that I'd moved here. Until you showed up, that is." She couldn't help the bitter tone in her voice, she'd tried so hard to make sure there was no way anyone could track her down. She supposed that even without that effort, his connections at work would mean he'd always known.
"I'm serious, I just want you to let me know you're okay. At least until he's back in Azkaban." The genuine concern in his voice was bittersweet, he clearly wanted her to know that he meant it. "If I don't hear from you, I'll have to stop by again."
Heaving a frustrated sigh, she gave the blonde boy a glare that he couldn't rightfully see. "Fine. If it means I'm left alone." Deep down, she realized she didn't mean it. She'd felt so lonely and part of her felt that perhaps she wouldn't follow through just so he would turn up. But then she remembered the guilt and knew that she had to be lonely because that's what she'd sentenced Sebastian to eight years ago. "Now I'd you'd be so kind to leave, it's getting late." She finished, leaving no room for argument as she stepped to the door and pulled it open.
"Take care of yourself, please," Ominis said as he stepped back through the door, still a small look of concern on his face that made her turn away.
Once he was out, she closed the door and once again triple-locked it before checking the windows. Only when she was sure everything was secure did she curl up on her couch with a blanket, and a book open in front of her - not that she paid it any mind. Her focus was on the flames licking in the fireplace as she waited for the time she'd move from the couch to bed.
— — — — — —
The feeling of something trailing over her forehead caused her to stir slightly, sleep slipping away from her. She groaned, turning over and burying herself further into the pillows and blankets of her bed before the realization struck her.
Sitting up quickly, she looked around the bedroom, the low light from the lamp on her dresser casting shadows. But besides her and her heavy breathing, the room was empty.
She was going crazy. Paranoid.
It had been a week since the article and Ominis' visit. A week of knowing that Sebastian was out there somewhere, likely looking for her. A week of constantly feeling like she was being watched when she wasn't. It was taking a toll on her.
She briefly contemplated asking Ominis if she could stay a few days with him, to see if she felt any different. But considering last Saturday was the first time they'd spoken in years, she likely wasn't welcome.
Sighing softly, she pulled herself up from her bed. Some tea would likely help calm her. Grasping at the lamp, she stepped from her bedroom and into the main room, heading for the stove and her small tea kettle. She got busy, setting the water to boil and taking hold of a cup she'd used earlier in the day. Her eyes settled out of the window just as they had a week ago. The streets of the hamlet were dark and empty, it was raining heavily, and for some reason that soothed her a little. She'd always liked the rain.
A loud bang from her bedroom jolted her from her thoughts, dropping the teacup she held as the sound of wind howled through her home. Once more grasping her lamp, she took her wand from the counter too and crept to the doorway, looking through it cautiously. The room was still empty, there weren't any hiding places after all. The room was only big enough for a bed and a dresser.
Her eyes lifted from their observation of the room to the window. Seeing it had flown open. Frowning, she stepped further into the room and towards the window until she was able to pull it closed, locking it. She swore she'd locked it before she'd gone to bed. But perhaps the stress of the last week was getting to her, her days blending together.
She had nothing to worry about. No one but Ominis knew where she lived and he wouldn't tell anyone. It had to have been the wind from the storm, she hadn't latched it properly before bed, clearly.
The sound of a quiet whistle sounded from her kitchen and she sighed. Right, yes. Tea. That's what she needed. Pulling her curtains closed, she made her way back into the kitchen to finish her tea, hopefully when she drank it she'd be able to get back to sleep.
— — — — — —
A few days later, she found herself stopping next to the stand holding the Daily Prophet, she glanced at the headline.
Sallow Still at Large!
She didn't bother picking up a copy this time, it was likely just going to be a reiteration of what was said in the original article. Instead, she forced herself to push on, the hood of her robe pulled up over her head.
The feeling of being watched magnified each time she left the house, to the point where she was seriously considering dropping her errands to one day a week and holing herself up inside of her cottage.
She stopped at the produce vendor, picking up some pieces of fruit and vegetables as she did often, paying quickly before turning on her heel. Usually, she'd make a stop at a few more stores, but right now, she wanted to go home. She wasn't in dire need of anything else - today at least.
Walking down the main street of the hamlet, her hood up and her head down to avoid being seen meant that she wasn't looking where she was going. So it wasn't surprising when she walked into someone, the bag she held falling to the floor.
"Merlin, I'm sorry!" She said, reaching down to collect her things.
"Don't be, miss. Accidents happen." A friendly voice said she looked up briefly to see a man of around her age, brunette hair and while his smile was friendly and it definitely wasn't Sebastian she was looking at, she couldn't help the flash of his face in place of the strangers.
Suddenly she was in a bigger rush to get home, her hands trembling as she fought to ensure everything she'd dropped was picked up.
"Let me help." The young man offered and she frantically shook her head, scooping the last of the produce into her bag and standing quickly.
"N-no n-need. It's fine. I must get home." She brushed off, pushing past the kind stranger that made her think of Sebastian and speed walked her way back to her cottage, not looking back. Although that feeling at the back of her neck, that she was being watched only grew as she stepped over the threshold and once more thrice locked her door. A sigh of relief fell from her lips as her clammy forehead rested against the cool wood.
— — — — — —
Two weeks. Two weeks had passed since she'd seen that article since Ominis had visited and nothing had happened besides her losing her mind from her paranoia.
Since her run-in with not-Sebastian, she hadn't left the house. A traitorous part of her brain just wanted him to be found and back in Azkaban so that she could go back to how life was before.
As much as she didn't want to leave, she had to head into town. If she didn't want Ominis stopping by again she'd have to drop off the letter she'd written him. She also needed to get some food.
She supposed she could be quick about it, not stopping beside the two shops she needed to and then heading straight back. Chewing on her bottom lip, she considered not leaving, her eyes staring at the front door as if it could decide for her. Taking a deep breath, she opened it and blinked against the bright sun. 'Quick, just be quick.' She told herself, closing the door behind her and heading towards the main street. And if she stopped to buy a bottle of fire whiskey while she was there, who was going to judge?
— — — — — —
Slamming the door behind her, she panted - a slight panic overtaking her. She was definitely going crazy, she swore she'd seen Seb so many times in the small time she was out, only to do a double take and there would be no one there. She had to be going crazy.
Dropping the bag of food onto the kitchen counter, she rummaged through the bag until she found what she was looking for. The bottle of fire whiskey glinted in the sun streaming through the winter. Briefly, a voice in her head told her it was too early to drink, but she shut it up quickly as she pulled the top off and took a large drink.
The fiery liquid trailed down her throat and she held back a cough, even as the wince made it through. Dropping herself into the chair at the kitchen table, she held the bottle in an iron grip. As she took another long drag from the bottle, she could feel the familiar haze of calm falling over her.
She tried to remember when she'd last eaten and realized it had been breakfast yesterday. Pair that with the fact she didn't drink often and it was only normal for barely a quarter of a bottle to hit her so fast.
Time passed slowly, and the contents of the bottle also slowly dwindled as it got dark outside. At some point, it started raining again but she didn't care. She'd drunk a good amount of the bottle and she couldn't very well keep her head up off the table.
She'd never be able to get herself to bed in this state. Rolling her head to the side, she looked at the couch, wondering if she'd be able to make it there. It was only five steps, maximum.
Pushing herself up, grasping the edge of the table hard to steady herself as the room spun. Once she felt situated enough, she took a step.
So far, so good.
Another step, then another and that's when her knees buckled. Her stomach churned and she closed her eyes as she waited to meet the floor. But the meeting never came. Two arms had wrapped around her, catching her in her fall.
