#i’m not paying that much for a stomach ache respectfully

[robertsbarbie]

since when do five guys burgers cost $10 what WHAT that’s so ridiculous

#i’m not paying that much for a stomach ache respectfully #like i was full willing to have the stomach ache until i saw that price insane #eris: text

[elmundodeflor]

He hated planes. Feared them. Avoided them.

It had been four years since he had last been on one and now, standing in line with his little suitcase in hand, he couldn’t help but think it was a bad idea. A terrible one, actually.

Onyankopon had booked him a flight back to Paradis, saying he needed to personally sign some papers to get a medical prescription that would help his injuries. He explained over and over again that he was fine just like that, that he didn’t care spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair. But Onyankopon was hopeful and he didn’t want to burst his bubble, to let him down. Not again.

He sighed, a suffocating sensation heavying in his chest. He had once heard that, in life, everything changed and morphed and came back around; summer freezing into the white glistening winter snow, daylight dying and fading into the darkness of the night, the river flowing freely to the open sea. He was sure that much was true, he could see. However, not even once he could see pain. And now, only hours away from the place he once called home, he was also sure that that was the only thing that hadn’t changed or morphed. The only thing that remained the same.

He looked at the plane ticket held by his shaky fingers. He wasn’t ready to go back. He wasn’t ready to reopen the forcedly carved wounds still fresh on his aching broken heart. Nostalgia was a high price to pay for all that was lost, all that was suffered. And yet, he found himself in debt over and over. Because he couldn’t dare to forget. Couldn’t bare. Even if it made the never ending pain hurt worse.

He heard a feminine voice call to his gate and he harshly wheeled himself forward, his pulse racing in furious anxiety. The giant metal plane was in sight, not too far away, and his stomach twisted nervously the closer he got. The imagery of them falling and falling and falling into that black burning void haunted him, ate him alive, fragmented his soul. Because they were mercilessly ripped from his side, cruelly pulled away from him. Because they were gone. Gone. And now, all he was left with was a scar on his face and a crumpled boarding pass. 

He exhaled sharply, shallow. His body felt sore and tired and hefty. Because ever since that day, four years ago, he understood flowers would bloom again and the sun would still shine and the waves would helplessly crash into the shore. But he would stay frozen, stuck in time, forever clung to the moment they left him. Forever stuck with his never changing, never morphing pain.

“Enjoy your flight, sir!”, a flight attendant greeted him at the plane’s entrance. “Do you need any help with your luggage?”

He cleared his throat, not sure of how his voice would come out.

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”, he respectfully declined, still wheeling himself along the narrow hallway. His heart sunk beating faster and faster, his mind negatively clouded by terror. He hated this. Oh hell, how he hated this.

He cursed under his breath, frustrated. He thought that once he came back he would tell Onyankopon he was never doing this again, that he was staying inside the safety of his house, that Gabi or Falco could do this next time.

And then he stopped. His mind suddenly blank in sheer shock.

Because right there, on top of his seat, next to the small window, there was a pair of round dusty glasses. 

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His lips quivered with unspoken emotion, long time repressed tears welling shiny on his grey irises, rushing together to the surface all at once like an unexpected storm. It could have been a coincidence, he knew. Still, he chose to believe.

It was Hanji. His Hanji. It had to be.

He let out a silent sob, carefully cleaning the dirt covered glass with his pocket cravat. He remembered their crazy loud laugh, how their bright smile illuminated their wide-eyed gaze. He remembered their silly jokes, and their lazy afternoons and their long nights. He remembered their shared conversations over warm cups of tea and unfinished paperwork, the innocent glances exchanged during messy dinners at the hall, the kisses stolen in the quiet of dusk. He remembered how they communicated without the need to talk, how one look was always more than enough, how the whole world seemed to stop when they were together. He remembered. 

Because he couldn’t dare to forget. Couldn’t bare. Even if it broke him in half. Even if the happy memories were tinged by the bitterness of goodbye. He loved them. Loved them with every fiber of his being.

He could only hope they knew how much he loved them. How deeply.

“So... you were watching, four eyes...”, he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself, clutching the folded glasses close to his chest.

The Earth would still spin around it’s axis, leaves would still waste and fall orange and stars would fade blindly into the light blue of a new dawn. His pain wouldn’t change, still, wouldn’t morph, wouldn’t go away. But he would get used to it. It would get better.

He braced himself on his seat as best he could, fastening the seatbelt around his waist as he looked outside the tiny oval of the window.

Maybe getting on a plane wasn’t that bad of an idea after all.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levi #hange #hanji #drabble #oneshot #fanfic #levihan drabble #levihan oneshot #post chapter 132 #post war levi #shingeki no kyojin #snk #attack on titan #aot #angst #writer #headcanon

[sincerelystranger]

Warning: This is 6k and there is explicit (s3xual) content. 

Can also be read on AO3

---

Jiang Cheng is zen.

Calm. At peace. Content. Fucked into nirvana.

Whatever.

He’s completely naked on the bed. His legs are still shaking and, to be honest, the air conditioning feels a bit cold, but he doesn’t have the energy anywhere in his body to grab the duvet and pull it over himself.

Whatever.

He’s content to die of hypothermia by air conditioning - that’s just how zen he is now.

Jiang Cheng feels the mattress sink to one side as Mingjue-ge (Or at least he assumes it’s Mingjue-ge. He’s too zen to open his eyes and check.) takes a seat next to him.

“Are you going to sleep?” Mingjue-ge asks, running his huge hand through Jiang Cheng’s bangs, lulling him into a further state of zen.

“Mn,” Jiang Cheng grunts in confirmation. It’s only because it’s Mingjue-ge that he bothers to answer at all.

“I’m going to go to the gym,” Mingjue-ge says, “Wait for me if you wake up before I get back. I want to have dinner together.”

Jiang Cheng actually cracks open his eyes at that.

Mingjue-ge is already dressed. He’s wearing those slutty tank-tops he seems to love. The ones that barely cover his nipples.

“How the fuck do you have energy for the gym?” Jiang Cheng asks, his voice coming out in a rough whisper. Fuck. Even his voice has been fucked tired. “I don’t get it. Am I a shit lay? You need more?”

The corner of Mingjue-ge��s mouth rises just the slightest amount and Jiang Cheng feels somewhat pleased by that. That small lift is basically a laugh from Mingjue-ge.

“The better my orgasm, the more energy I get,” Mingjue-ge says, leaning over Jiang Cheng to grab the duvet and pull it over Jiang Cheng’s naked body. He tucks the duvet over Jiang Cheng’s shoulders and leans down to place a kiss on Jiang Cheng’s temple. “You’re a great lay.”

If Jiang Cheng was the sentimental type he might say that the warm ache in his chest was… an emotion or something. But it’s not. It’s probably acid reflux.

Mingjue-ge is just a good person and an even better sex partner.

The only person Jiang Cheng has ever bottomed for and the only person who can hold Jiang Cheng up against the wall and fuck him stupid.

Jiang Cheng isn’t going to risk this kind of mind-blowing sex by developing emotions .

“Good,” Jiang Cheng says, closing his eyes again, fully prepared to fall asleep.

Mingjue-ge runs his fingers through Jiang Cheng’s hair again, quickly bringing Jiang Cheng to the brink of unconsciousness.

Just before Jiang Cheng falls asleep, he thinks he feels Mingjue-ge lean down and kiss him on his temple again.

“It probably helps that I’m in love with you.”

Jiang Cheng is zen.

Calm. At peace. Asleep.

There’s still a bit of light out when Jiang Cheng wakes up.

He takes a shower, because even though Mingjue-ge had wiped him down after he had single-dickedly wrecked Jiang Cheng’s entire body, he still feels sticky.

Also Mingjue-ge has a huge, custom-built shower to accommodate his giant ass. It’s a waste not to use it.

Mingjue-ge is back and in the kitchen when Jiang Cheng finally leaves the room.

Jiang Cheng just takes a moment to… appreciate Mingjue-ge’s figure. He’s still wearing his slutty tank-top, all of the muscles in his chest and arms and back out for display as he stands over the stove and does some magic cooking shit. And Jiang Cheng hadn’t noticed earlier, but Mingjue-ge is also wearing his shortest black gym shorts.

What an absolute whore .

Jiang Cheng suddenly isn’t sure what he’s hungry for. Food… or maybe he wants to lick a stripe up from Mingjue-ge’s ankle bone to the bottom of those scandalous shorts… and maybe he wants to nose those shorts up higher and bury his nose in Mingjue-ge’s balls.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He wants Mingjue-ge’s dick in his mouth.

“Stop objectifying my brother, A-Cheng,” a voice breaks him out of his lust-reverie.

Nie Huaisang is laying on the couch, his eyes glued (as always) to that stupid phone of his.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng grunts.

Mingjue-ge turns then. “Good. You’re awake,” he says. “Food’s almost ready. Huaisang, set the table.”

“Da-ge!” Huaisang whines, “I haven’t eaten all day. I’m starved and out of energy. I can barely speak, much less set the table!”

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes so hard he sees his brain. It’s no wonder Huaisang gets along so well with Wei Wuxian. They are the same person.

Mingjue-ge pays no mind to Huaisang’s whining. He just says, “Huaisang,” one more time.

Huaisang is looking at Jiang Cheng then, his eyes huge and his bottom lip stuck out so far it looks like it’s trying to leave Huaisang’s face. “A-Cheng… please… as payment for staring at my brother like he’s a two dollar slut walking down main street butt naked…”

“Shut the fuck up you stupid twink,” Jiang Cheng hisses. “I was looking… respectfully.”

“... Right,” Huaisang says, “Also licking your lips respectfully too, huh?”

“I’m hungry,” Jiang Cheng says and walks into the kitchen to grab the placemats and utensils.

Dinner is good. Normal.

Huaisang whines and eats like a baby bird. Mingjue-ge frowns and tells Huaisang to get his life together. And Jiang Cheng leaves with left overs and a promise to return Mingjue-ge’s shirt next time.

Nothing is mentioned of the horrible sentence Jiang Cheng heard before he fell asleep so Jiang Cheng chalks it up to a remnant of a dream he must have had and goes on with his life.

Jiang Cheng is about to die.

“I’m going to die,” he says, his voice breaking off in an embarrassing moan as Mingjue-ge moves slowly out of him. “I’m going to die, I’m going to die. I don’t have any cum left inside me, I’m going to die.”

“Shh,” Mingjue-ge says, placing little soft kisses along Jiang Cheng’s temple and down the side of his face. “You’re alright. I have you right here. Shh.”

And oh god fuck, Mingjue-ge is a fucking liar because how the fuck is Jiang Cheng going to be alright? He’s already cum twice and Mingjue-ge seems hell-bent on fucking him to death. There should be nothing left in his body, but his stupid, traitorous cock is still somehow rock hard and leaking.

Mingjue-ge’s dick slowly - ever so slowly - comes out of Jiang Cheng’s body. Jiang Cheng can feel every millimeter - his entire body hot and oversensitive. The tip of Mingjue-ge’s dick just presses on Jiang Cheng’s hole. Mingjue-ge rubs slowly around Jiang Cheng’s hole, pressing in just that little bit before coming back out. The pressure is ever present but it’s just not enough.

Jiang Cheng is shuddering, his arms around Mingjue-ge’s neck, holding on for dear life.

Mingjue-ge runs his hand down Jiang Cheng’s side and slides it under Jiang Cheng’s lower back, lifting him up just a little.

“I can’t, I can’t,” Jiang Cheng says, hiding his face in Mingjue-ge’s huge chest and trying to find his breath.

Mingjue-ge slides back in.

Jiang Cheng wants to cry.

“Shh,” Mingjue-ge hushes. He’s entering Jiang Cheng as slowly as he left him and it’s torturous .

Mingjue-ge enters him halfway and stops for a moment before he puts both his arms under Jiang Cheng’s back to lift Jiang Cheng up by slow degrees, letting gravity slowly press Jiang Cheng down further onto Mingjue-ge’s dick.

Jiang Cheng is shaking now. Actually shaking. He can’t even feel his legs right now, and even if he could, he doubts he has the strength left to hold himself up. He’s helpless. Impaling himself by slow degrees.

Mingjue-ge presses soft kisses down his neck as he lifts Jiang Cheng straighter and straighter.

Just when Jiang Cheng is almost completely sat, Mingjue-ge lifts his face to capture Jiang Cheng’s lips in his own.

The wet, hot brush of Mingjue-ge’s tongue against his own is distracting enough that Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel Mingjue-ge’s hands leave the small of his back and grab both of his ass cheeks to spread them open.

Mingjue-ge slides up in one fluid motion.

“No, no,” Jiang Cheng sobs. He doesn’t know if he wants to push away from Mingjue-ge or hold him tighter. Mingjue-ge pulls out before he can make a decision.

“Wh—!” Mingjue-ge slides back in before Jiang Cheng can say anything. He sets a brutal pace. It’s all Jiang Cheng can do to hold on. In this position, it feels like maybe Mingjue-ge’s dick is all the way in his stomach and that’s got to be messing up all his insides and he feels so hot and cold and he can’t even close his mouth it’s fucking humiliating and insane. He knows he’s slobbering like a fucking dog but he can’t help it.

“Ge… ge,” Jiang Cheng moans, “I can’t… I—“

Mingjue-ge just lifts Jiang Cheng then and turns him around so that his chest and face are pressed up against the wall.

One hand is pressed up against Jiang Cheng’s stomach, keeping him from just sliding back down onto the bed, and the other hand snakes down to press one finger on the tip of Jiang Cheng’s weeping cock.

“Little Jiang Cheng is telling me you can,” Mingjue-ge says, his breath hot against Jiang Cheng’s ear.

“He’s a liar,” Jiang Cheng sobs, “that fucking lying piece of —- mmm!”

“Okay, okay,” Mingjue-ge says placatingly, his hand rubbing small, soothing circles on Jiang Cheng’s stomach. “Let me finish and I’ll let you rest.”

Both Mingjue-ge’s hands come up to play with Jiang Cheng’s nipples and Mingjue-ge’s mouth sucks gently on the side of Jiang Cheng’s neck as the speed of his thrusts increase.

“No! Not there! Ge… Ge!”

Jiang Cheng has no clue when Mingjue-ge finishes because his vision goes white and there’s a strange ringing in his ear and…

Well it turns out Little Jiang Cheng isn’t a liar after all.

Mingjue-ge is wiping down Jiang Cheng’s body with a wet towel when Jiang Cheng comes to.

“I told you I couldn’t take it,” Jiang Cheng says, glaring weakly at Mingjue-ge. His voice is groggy again and it kind of hurts to swallow.

But his throat always hurts when he sucks Mingjue-ge off, so that’s not really a concern. The human throat really isn’t built to deepthroat a cock as big as Mingjue-ge’s but Jiang Cheng can’t help but try.

Mingjue-ge doesn’t say anything, but he opens a water bottle and lifts Jiang Cheng’s head with his giant hand so he can drink.

When Jiang Cheng is finished drinking, Mingjue-ge lays him back down and rubs his fingers soothingly over Jiang Cheng’s forehead.

“You took it just fine,” he says.

“Mm,” Jiang Cheng hums, feeling the comfortable sense of zen blanket over him again. “Who else are you fucking now? Tell me so I can make sure they’re a real person. I refuse to believe that there’s another fucker in the world who can take your entire cock like I can.”

Mingjue-ge is quiet for a long while. Long enough that Jiang Cheng thinks that maybe Mingjue-ge is just going to ignore his post-fuck nonsense.

“You’re the only one I’m sleeping with,” Mingjue-ge says suddenly. His movements steady as he continues to wipe down Jiang Cheng’s body. “The only one that I want to sleep with.”

It’s nothing.

Nothing.

It just means that Mingjue-ge thinks Jiang Cheng is a good lay.

But it still makes Jiang Cheng’s chest go weirdly hot. He feels… satisfied. Like maybe he won first place in a competition he didn’t even enter. Like he ate just the right amount and nothing was left on his plate. Like maybe he was fucked into nirvana.

Jiang Cheng feels Mingjue-ge get off the bed and hears him walk to the bathroom. He hears the water run for a moment and he hears Mingjue-ge come back and feels the mattress sink as he takes a seat once again.

A warm, wet towel runs gently over Jiang Cheng’s face.

He knows he must have dried tears and snot and spit all over his face and it should be embarrassing, but Mingjue-ge is the one responsible for it so it’s only right that he cleans it. So not embarrassing. Jiang Cheng refuses to be embarrassed by it.

Jiang Cheng is zen.

“Are you going to the gym again? Or was this orgasm not good enough,” Jiang Cheng asks, in a good enough mood to be snarky.

“I’m in love with you,” Mingjue-ge replies.

It’s an interesting change of pace from Mingjue-ge.

“Huh,” Jiang Cheng says after a long silence. “So… do you want to stop fucking for a while? How many days will it take you to get over it? A week? A month?” Because as unfortunate as it is that Mingjue-ge is currently in love with him, Jiang Cheng refuses to lose Mingjue-ge’s magic cock.

“I’m going to the gym,” Mingjue-ge says.

Another interesting change of pace.

Mingjue-ge gets ready in silence. Jiang Cheng watches him get ready in silence.

Jiang Cheng wonders if the silence is actually heavy or if he’s the only one who feels that way. He also wonders if his answer pissed Mingjue-ge off.

He feels cold again. Stupid air conditioning.

Mingjue-ge walks back over to him once he’s finished getting dressed. He’s wearing that stupid slutty tank top again (it’s white this time - what a complete slut). At least he’s not wearing his short shorts - even though the shorts he’s currently wearing are pretty short anyway.

Mingjue-ge sits down next to Jiang Cheng and leans over to pull the duvet over Jiang Cheng and tuck him in.

He leans down and presses a soft kiss to Jiang Cheng’s temple. “I don’t want to stop sleeping with you,” he says, “And I’m never going to get over it.”

Jiang Cheng looks up at Mingjue-ge, wide-eyed, as he straightens up.

His face must look funny because the corner of Mingjue-ge’s lip lifts up again.

Huge fingers run over his forehead.

“I’m a little more in love with you than you think, so hurry up and fall in love with me too.”

Mingjue-ge just… leaves Jiang Cheng like that. Too tired to leave the bed and too shocked to fall asleep.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to do with Mingjue-ge’s sudden confession so he does what he does best - ignores it.

It’s a great plan and it works out perfectly for him.

He still sleeps with Mingjue-ge at least three times a week (Fucking at least two of those three times). He still eats dinner with Mingjue-ge, sometimes breakfast, sometimes lunch. Sometimes they go to the gym together, and… and everything is perfect.

Mingjue-ge never brings up that he’s in love with Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng just goes on with his life, thinking that maybe Mingjue-ge’s confession was a hallucination of his.

Months go peacefully by.

And everything is perfect until…

“What’re you going to get Da-ge for Valentine’s Day?” Stupid Wei Wuxian asks, stupidly.

“Why would I get anything for Mingjue-ge for Valentine’s Day?” Jiang Cheng asks, shoving Wei Wuxian’s stupid long legs off of his chair irritably.

“Uh… cause you guys are dating?” Wei Wuxian replies stupidly.

“Who am I dating?” Jiang Cheng snorts. “We’re just fucking.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him with his huge, judge-y eyes.

“We’re not dating!” Jiang Cheng says emphatically.

“Why not?” Wei Wuxian asks.

Of all the things Wei Wuxian could have said in that moment, the ‘why not’ hits Jiang Cheng strangely. A strange ache in his chest that he chalks up to heartburn.

“None of your business,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice sounding weak even in his own ears. “Shut the fuck up before I beat you to death.”

“I mean is it Da-ge?” Wei Wuxian asks, his eyebrows scrunching up worriedly. “Is he just stringing you along? Does he refuse to settle down with just you? I mean I know he dresses like a floozy but I always thought he was a one-man type of guy.”

Jiang Cheng grabs whatever is nearest to him and throws it at Wei Wuxian. It turns out to be a book.

“He doesn’t dress like a floozy,” Jiang Cheng growls out, feeling strangely offended on Mingjue-ge’s behalf. “You dress like a floozy.”

Wei Wuxian, annoying as always, opens the book Jiang Cheng had thrown at him and flips through the pages, unbothered. “I dress like a floozy but I am a one-man type of guy so it cancels out.”

Stupid logic. Stupid Wei Wuxian logic that makes stupid fucking sense when it shouldn’t.

“Shut up,” Jiang Cheng sighs, “You’re so fucking annoying. Nobody in the world can stand your voice.”

“Lan Zhan loves the sound of my voice,” Wei Wuxian says, smiling beautifically at him.

“Your ‘Lan Zhan’, is also a certified grade-one weirdo,” Jiang Cheng replies bitingly.

“At least Lan Zhan’s not the type of trash to string me along!” Wei Wuxian snarls back, throwing the book back at Jiang Cheng. “We only fucked once we were official. He’s a complete gentleman!”

Wei Wuxian’s reply surprises a snort out of Jiang Cheng so he fails at catching the book - which is fucking embarrassing and annoying.

“Fine, fine,” Jiang Cheng acquiesces with a roll of his eyes. “Your weirdo is a gentleman. Big deal. I bet he can’t fuck half as well as Mingjue-ge can.”

“I’d bet he fucks way better,” Wei Wuxian says. “Word on the street is that Da-ge is huge all over. I bet he just relies on that and has no technique.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why it makes him so irrationally mad to hear that anyone on any street is talking about Mingjue-ge’s dick and how he is in bed.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, grasping around to see if there’s anything else he can throw at Wei Wuxian. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Wei Wuxian just looks at him with his stupid, huge, eyes, and they’re all sad and worried and ugh… Jiang Cheng wants to throw up.

“I can introduce you to someone nice, A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says earnestly. “It’s awful that Da-ge is stringing you along like that and, you know what they say, the best way to get over someone is meeting someone new, so…”

It’s too much.

Honestly.

“It’s not Mingjue-ge!” Jiang Cheng roars. And then in an awful, ashamed whisper he says, “It’s me. I’m the one… stringing him along…”

Wei Wuxian stares at him.

And stares at him.

And stares at him.

And his eyes are huge and judge-y and Jiang Cheng just wants to melt in shame.

Finally - finally - he opens his mouth. “That’s not a nice thing to do, A-Cheng.”

No. Fucking. Duh!!!!!!

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Jiang Cheng hisses. “Not everyone can have these fairytale romances like you and jie, okay? I’m a good fuck buddy - I’m not a good… I’m not a good boyfriend! You know this! Look how badly I fucked it up with Wen Qing. I’m… I’m just not…” The words die at his lips. He feels angry and ashamed and guilty and angry and fucking angry and fucking stupid Wei Wuxian with his stupid judge-y eyes and his stupid questions and… Fuck!

He buries his face in his hands. Annoyed that he can’t even leave because this is his fucking room and why the fuck should he be the one running out with his tail between his legs?

They sit in silence a long while. Wei Wuxian probably just staring at him with his huge judge-y eyes and Jiang Cheng just… stewing.

Finally, Wei Wuxian gets a clue and Jiang Cheng hears him get off of Jiang Cheng’s bed - to hopefully leave Jiang Cheng’s room and let Jiang Cheng die of embarrassment and rage in peace.

But… of course, it’s Wei Wuxian so that doesn’t happen.

Jiang Cheng feels Wei Wuxian’s arms go around his neck in a loose hug and feels Wei Wuxian rest his huge head on his.

“You’re not who you were at sixteen, A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says, rubbing his head on Jiang Cheng’s like a cat. A poor attempt at soothing, Jiang Cheng is sure.

“Yeah, I know,” Jiang Cheng says sullenly. He knows. He knows. He knows.

“You were never a bad guy. You just met Wen Qing at the… wrong time. It was… difficult for everyone.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Wen Qing doesn’t hold it against you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Da-ge is hot as fuck and there’s a line of twinks waiting for your to fuck off out of the picture.”

“Yeah — wait!” Jiang Cheng breaks out of Wei Wuxian’s weird hug and turns to look at him. “Are you serious?”

Wei Wuxian looks down at him and nods solemnly. “Supposedly Da-ge hasn’t so much as looked at another person since you and him started… hooking up. The gays are furious with you for keeping him to yourself.”

Jiang Cheng isn’t sure how he feels about that… it feels like a strange mix of pleasure and rage and he kind of feels nauseous.

He stands up then and pushes Wei Wuxian towards the door.

“Okay, you’ve said enough. Leave.”

Wei Wuxian is relatively compliant. Only digging his heels in a little. “I think I’m going to make some homemade chocolates for Lan Zhan this year,” he says conversationally, as if he isn’t currently being manhandled out of the room. “Let me know if you want to make some with me. I’m buying the ingredients and supplies tomorrow.”

“You just never shut the fuck up, huh?” Jiang Cheng asks. And before Wei Wuxian can answer, he shuts the door.

Jiang Cheng ends up making chocolates.

He almost walks out when he sees the molds Wei Wuxian bought - little thumb sized penises, exaggerated kissy-lips, childish hearts - but he ends up staying because Wei Wuxian makes that stupid sad face of his and says, “I was looking forward to making these with you…”

Jiang Cheng is a fucking sucker and he hates himself.

Yanli-jie ends up joining them too, so all-in-all it ends up not too terrible of a time.

She giggles delightedly at Wei Wuxian’s stupid molds. “A-Xuan is going to be so mortified by these,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to see his face when I give these to him.”

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng laugh along with Yanli.

“I bet he’ll make that constipated face that he makes whenever he has to be nice to us,” Wei Wuxian says, knocking Jiang Cheng’s shoulder with his own. “You know the one where he pretends to love spending time with us but he just looks super pained?”

“Oh this one?” Jiang Cheng asks, and spreads his mouth in a horrific fake smile and tightens his eyebrows strangely - the exact face that stupid peacock makes whenever Yanli makes him spend even one minute alone with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng.

The entire table falls into laughter.

“Yes! That’s the one!” Wei Wuxian crows.

“Oh, come on,” Yanli says, giggling so hard her shoulders shake, “You’re exaggerating. It’s not that bad.”

“Love has blinded you, jie,” Jiang Cheng says with a shake of his head.

The chocolates come out better than expected.

Jiang Cheng chooses to put them in a tupperware instead of one of the fancy boxes Wei Wuxian had prepared for them because… because he feels a bit stupid.

They’re not even dating and Jiang Cheng is making chocolates.

Who knows if Mingjue-ge even likes him anymore?

It’s been months and Mingjue-ge hasn’t said anything since that nonchalant confession.

Maybe Mingjue-ge’s changed his mind and Jiang Cheng is going to look like an idiot tomorrow giving chocolates to his fuck buddy.

Maybe.

Still. Jiang Cheng goes to sleep that night, wondering what Mingjue-ge’s face will look like when Jiang Cheng gives him chocolates.

Jiang Cheng takes the chocolates out and puts them back into his bag about a thousand times before he leaves his house to go to Mingjue-ge’s.

They didn’t make any plans to meet today but…

Well… Mingjue-ge wouldn’t refuse him, right?

Right?

He shoves the chocolates into the bottom of his back and quickly runs out of his house before he can change his mind.

He walks to Mingjue-ge’s house. It’s a forty-minute walk normally, but Jiang Cheng takes the long way today. Winding around to pass by the gym he and Mingjue-ge frequent in hopes of running into Mingjue-ge there.

It’s just a chance, but if he ran into Mingjue-ge there that would make his plan go by so much more smoothly. He could pretend that he just saw Mingjue-ge by chance. Talk to Mingjue-ge a little. Feel him out. Maybe get invited to back to Mingjue-ge’s place instead of just showing up there like a fucking loser.

He’s busy imagining his perfect scenario when he reaches the gym.

A miracle of miracle happens and Mingjue-ge actually is standing in front of the fucking gym.

Jiang Cheng stops in his tracks and blinks rapidly. He’s not hallucinating this right?

Mingjue-ge is actually standing there…

It’s winter so he’s not wearing his slut shorts… No… He’s wearing something much worse.

He’s in fucking leggings.

His thin ass jacket (that is unzipped far enough down that Jiang Cheng can see his chest) barely covers his ass, and the leggings are so fucking tight that Jiang Cheng can see the crease of Mingjue-ge’s ass right above his perfect hamstring.

And to make matters worse, Wei Wuxian’s weird ass boyfriend’s perfect brother is talking to Mingjue-ge.

Jiang Cheng is too far away to hear exactly what they’re talking about. All he knows is that Lan Huan is fucking beaming up at Mingjue-ge. Laughing like Mingjue-ge said something funny - and Jiang Cheng knows for a fact that nothing Mingjue-ge has ever said in his life could be considered funny.

The final nail on the coffin is the way Mingjue-ge looks away like he’s fucking embarrassed . Like he’s fucking shy .

Jiang Cheng watches in slow motion as Lan Huan hands Mingjue-ge a… a box…

A fucking box…

On fucking Valentine’s Day.

He’s there before he’s conscious of it. Taking Mingjue-ge’s huge hand in his and forcibly dragging him away from the slutty, no-good, pretty faced motherfucker, Lan Huan.

He hears Mingjue-ge call out his name in confusion but it’s too late for talking to explaining or whatever the fuck rational people do.

He drags Mingjue-ge all the back… to Mingjue-ge’s apartment…

“What’s going on?” Mingjue-ge asks when they enter the apartment.

Jiang Cheng just paces back and forth - like a crazy person. Mingjue-ge is such a nice person, he thinks wildly. He just let Jiang Cheng drag him like that for ten minutes. He could have stopped Jiang Cheng at any time but he just let himself be dragged away like that and then dragged all the way back to his apartment with no questions or answers or what the fuck. He probably thinks Jiang Cheng is so weird. He’s probably regretting ever telling Jiang Cheng that he loved him - hell, he’s probably regretting ever sticking his dick in someone as insane as Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng just keeps pacing back and forth, his thoughts getting increasingly more crazy before he feels two hands grab him by his shoulders and hold him still.

He looks up dazedly at Mingjue-ge’s perfect face.

“Jiang Cheng,” Mingjue-ge says slowly, “What’s wrong?”

“You said you wouldn’t stop loving me,” Jiang Cheng says (like an insane person).

Mingjue-ge just blinks down at Jiang Cheng in obvious confusion.

His silence just riles up Jiang Cheng more.

“I mean, I don’t even get why you would say that to me,” Jiang Cheng says rapidly, “Were you just fucking with me? Did you find out that I liked you and felt bad or something? I mean I know I’m insane but you didn’t - I mean everyone says you're such a good guy. And, I mean, you are. You felt bad for me, right? I just looked really pathetic, huh? And you… you like taking care of people and —“

Mingjue-ge pulls Jiang Cheng into his arms then and forcibly shuts him up by squishing Jiang Cheng’s face into his chest.

“Shh,” Mingjue-ge says, patting Jiang Cheng’s back soothingly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just take a breath. It’s okay.”

Jiang Cheng listens to Mingjue-ge’s orders and takes a breath. Mingjue-ge smells like sweat and cologne and it’s so familiar that it does… calm Jiang Cheng a bit.

Mingjue-ge lets Jiang Cheng go after a few breaths. He kind of squats down to look at Jiang Cheng face to face.

“Hey,” he says softly, “What’s wrong? This isn’t like you.”

Jiang Cheng stares back. He takes in Mingjue-ge’s scowly eyebrows. His intense eyes. The perfect line of his nose. The stern set of his mouth. The sharp line of his jaw.

“This is me,” he says finally, feeling cut open and horrible.

Mingjue-ge just looks at him. His eyes impossibly kind and gentle and warm.

It feels like a knife in Jiang Cheng’s chest.

“I’m a horrible boyfriend,” he says, taking a shaky step back from Mingjue-ge. “Like… the absolute worst. I’ll probably get jealous of the way you treat your brother - okay? I already hate the way you dress. I hate that anyone else in the world can see your chest, and I want to burn those short shorts that you like.” Jiang Cheng takes another shaky step back, and this time he brings up his arms to cover his face. He knows he sounds crazy. He knows this is probably the end of him and Mingjue-ge. Covering his face will do nothing to protect him from that but he feels a little safer. “I’ve been sleeping with you all this time… pretending that I didn’t have… feelings for you because… because I wanted to protect you from me.”

Mingjue-ge is quiet and Jiang Cheng isn’t quite brave enough to lower his arms to look at him.

“But I did a shit job. I still… I mean, I’ve been aware of your feelings all this time and I’ve been pretending they didn’t exist. I was hoping that you’d just forget too - that you’d get over it. But now that you’re really over it I’m acting like… I’m sorry,” he admits quietly. “I know what I did to you - what I’m doing to you - is… wrong. I’m… sorry.”

Wei Wuxian was right. What he did to Mingjue-ge was just… mean.

People like Jiang Cheng deserved to be strung along but people like Mingjue-ge? Mingjue-ge didn’t deserve that.

He didn’t deserve Jiang Cheng ignoring his feelings - pretending that they didn’t happen. Pretending like they didn’t exist.

Because the truth was Jiang Cheng had known. He had always known. Even before Mingjue-ge had said it out loud. He’d known.

Because what kind of fuck buddy tucks you in? What kind of fuck buddy kisses your temple and makes you dinner and holds you while you sleep? What kind of fuck buddy invites you over just to make you dinner?

Mingjue-ge had been loving him all this time and Jiang Cheng had just closed his eyes to it. Pretended like it didn’t happen and now he was going to lose it. Because he was a fucking idiot.

He feels Mingjue-ge’s hands on his arm, dragging them down from where they’re covering his face. He closes his eyes and prepares to be… punched or whatever. Whatever Mingjue-ge feels he deserves.

He waits for it. Waits for pain. Waits for cruel words. Waits for the “Get out of my apartment, you psycho.”

Instead…

Strong fingers curve along his jaw. A hot palm rests on the side of Jiang Cheng’s cheek.

Jiang Cheng opens his eyes slowly.

“No one’s ever protected me before,” Mingjue-ge says, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you for your concern, but I don’t need it. I want you. I still want you. Jealousy, crazy, and all.”

“But Lan Huan gave you chocolates and you looked so happy talking to him,” Jiang Cheng says, blinking his eyes hard to try to rid them of the burning. He’s not going to cry in front of Mingjue-ge. He’s not. “And Lan Huan is so… pretty… and he’s probably not as crazy as I am.”

Mingjue-ge looks to the side… shyly… again!

“Well,” Mingjue-ge steps back and clears his throat. He puts his hand in his jacket pocket and pulls the box out awkwardly. He thrusts the box towards Jiang Cheng and after an awkward moment, Jiang Cheng takes it.

“I’m shit at stuff like this,” Mingjue-ge says, still not making eye-contact with Jiang Cheng. “Lan Huan’s good at… making stuff… so I asked him to make something for me… But… uh… It’s for you.”

Jiang Cheng looks at the box in his hand. It looks… pretty. Dainty. If he hadn’t just seen Mingjue-ge hand it to him, he would never believe that this box could come from Mingjue-ge.

He opens it carefully.

Inside is one heart.

The size of his palm.

Made of chocolate.

It’s trimmed with what looks like gold foil and in the heart, white frosting writes: “Love You Forever”.

Jiang Cheng looks up at Mingjue-ge.

Mingjue-ge is… still looking away.

“Look, I wasn’t going to give it to you like this,” Mingjue-ge explains in a rapid whisper. “I planned a dinner… I was going to invite you over later… It was going to be more… I have flowers.”

Jiang Cheng quickly runs his arm across his eyes. Quietly wiping away the stupid, stupid tears that might have threatened to fall.

He turns and digs through his bag to find his tupperware. He regrets not using Wei Wuxian’s fancy boxes now. Mingjue-ge deserves so much better than stupid Jiang Cheng with his not-fancy tupperware full of stupid shaped chocolates.

He brings them out and turns to thrust them towards Mingjue-ge anyway.

“I made these for you,” he says. “They’re stupid shapes because Wei Wuxian picked out the molds, but… but I made them… myself… for… you.”

The tupperware fits in one of Mingjue-ge’s hands. It looks oddly small and Jiang Cheng feels even smaller.

Mingjue-ge opens the tupperware and takes one of the chocolates out.

It’s a penis.

A fucking penis.

Mingjue-ge looks at it and looks at Jiang Cheng. The corner of his lip is quirked up and he looks… cute.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Mingjue-ge asks pointedly.

Oh fuck. Holy fuck. Goddammit to all hell.

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng says, launching himself recklessly into Mingjue-ge’s chest. “I love you and I want your dick in my mouth for the rest of my life - that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Mingjue-ge wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng.

“Took you long enough.”

Wei Wuxian, infuriatingly enough, turns out to be right.

Jiang Cheng is not who he was at sixteen. His jealousy isn’t as dark and twisted and uncontrollable as he remembers it being. And he’s not as bad of a boyfriend as he had thought he would be.

Or maybe Mingjue-ge is just easy to please.

Whatever.

He’s laying on Mingjue— no, their bed, and watching Mingjue-ge get dressed for the gym.

He’s wearing his slutty ass tank-top, as usual, but he’s taken to wearing biker shorts under his short shorts today.

“Why are you wearing those?” Jiang Cheng asks, lazily. Luxuriating in his post-coital zen and also enjoying the way his naked body feels on the sheets.

Mingjue-ge looks down at his biker shorts and looks back up at Jiang Cheng, a small smirk on his lips.

“Well whenever I wear these shorts, I end up not being able to go to the gym because you suddenly want to suck my soul out of my dick. So I thought I’d add a layer of protection. For my dick.”

Jiang Cheng puts his thumb down in a thumbs down. “Boo, bad decision,” he says, “Besides, who was the one who said they didn’t need any protection?”

Mingjue-ge walks over to the bed and sits down next to Jiang Cheng. He ruffles Jiang Cheng’s hair fondly and runs his hand down Jiang Cheng’s back gently. “I don’t need protection,” he says, “Just my dick.”

Jiang Cheng squirms his head onto Mingjue-ge’s lap and nuzzles his nose against his dick.

“Mmm, I’ll protect it,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, mouthing along where he knows Mingjue-ge’s sac is.

Mingjue-ge’s huge hand traitorously blocks his advances.

“I need to get to the gym,” Mingjue-ge says, tempering his words with another hair ruffle.

“The bed is so cold without you,” Jiang Cheng whimpers pitifully. He tries to channel Wei Wuxian and look at Mingjue-ge with huge, sad eyes.

They don’t seem to work at all on Mingjue-ge, who just lifts Jiang Cheng’s head off of his lap and moves him so that he’s laid straight on the bed again. He covers Jiang Cheng with the duvet and kisses Jiang Cheng on his forehead.

Then on his temple.

Then on each of his eyelids.

Then his nose.

And finally…

A soft kiss on Jiang Cheng’s lips.

“Be good, I’ll be back soon.”

Jiang Cheng slips into sleep quickly as Mingjue-ge leaves.

He dreams good dreams.

Softness, kindness, light.

Afterall, Jiang Cheng is zen.

#The untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #initially only wrote this because I wanted to write the line #love you a little more than you think #how did that balloon up this 6k idk #at least now that this is out of my head i can focus on my other stories #right? #... #right??

[enamoured-x]

Exceptional

Sonny Carisi x Reader 

Summary: After a few harsh words thrown at Sonny, you decide to make him feel better. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral (male receiving) 

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: It feels good to be writing for Sonny again! I got inspired for this right after the most recent episode, Sonny did not deserve to be talked to like that so here’s a little relief for him. Enjoy! 

*Not my gif

Stress didn’t even begin to cover what you had been feeling lately with your most recent case, so you couldn’t imagine just how heavy it was all coming down on Sonny. After your team decided to take on the infamous Judge Gallagher for rape allegations from his past at Harvard, you had all been running around talking to vics and trying to get Sonny a solid case. But from where you were standing, you had the easy job, Sonny was the one who was taking the harder hit. 

You and Sonny had been dating for a little more than a year which you two deemed it was time for the next step. Moving in together. It was a big change but one you and Sonny found was most definitely the right move. You got to see each other every night and go to bed in his arms, there was no way around how good it felt to finally share a home with him. Which is why you knew just how much pressure he was under with this case. It killed you to see him in such distress, chugging copious amounts of coffee to stay up late to string together his case. You offered to help in any way you could, whether it be something as little as making him lunch or getting him coffee. You were always there to offer your support, always standing in Sonny’s corner, which is why when you finally had a sit down with Gallagher and his attorney, Rita, you were about to explode. 

You were all there to talk about a plea. Although you could sense Rita and Gallagher would not be easy to persuade into a deal especially if it meant dropping out of the attorney general race and resigning from the bench, which was exactly what you wanted him to do. Rita was up in arms right away.

“No deal. Absolutely not. This is a personal and political attack.” Rita expressed, in utter shock with Sonny’s offer. 

“This isn’t personal and it isn’t political, your client is a rapist.” You spoke up, sending daggers at his smug face. He reeked of arrogance and abuse of power and it disgusted you entirely. 

“Take the deal, counselor. Your client could walk.” Sonny said. 

“Respectfully, pass. Judge, let’s go.” They both went to get up and Gallagher laughed.

“You people have no idea what you’re up against.” He said to all three of you and then turned to Sonny, “you keep this up and I’ll see to it you're disbarred. If you’re lucky, the NYPD will take you back doing traffic stops on Staten Island.” His words stirred an anger within you at his threat but Sonny laughed it off at the mere absurdity of it all. Of course he would make a threat, it’s how guys like him operated. Once again trying to abuse his power because he didn’t like to hear the truth. Rita and Gallagher were leaving when Gallagher turned back around. 

“Something they can’t teach you at Fordham, how to belong. The people who nod at you on the eighth floor, they can smell the flop sweat and the garlic coming off your cheap suit.” You were boiling with rage now and you went to say something before Liv pulled you back. 

“Keep going, Judge.” Was all Sonny said. You could tell now that the Judge’s words made their mark. Your heart ached terribly and you tried to step forward but Liv pulled you back again and shook her head. 

“Yeah? What do you want to hear you dumb dago.” Your heart fell into your stomach. You’ve heard that slur before, a derogatory slur for Italians. You were going to kill him and this time you yanked yourself out of Olivia’s grip but Sonny was the one to get in Gallagher’s face.

“Fine, I’ll take you right here.” Sonny argued, trying to step closer to the man but Liv pulled him back and Rita was ushering Gallagher out the door. 

“You’re so far in over your head you don’t even know your career’s dead and buried.” Gallagher’s threat were the final words to watch Sonny slowly start to unravel. 

“Are you okay?” You asked him, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. 

“M’fine, screw him.” Is all he said before he grabbed his briefcase and walked out. You and Liv shared a look, stunned at what just happened. Sonny was relatively quiet that night. You didn’t know what to say to make this better without sounding like you were saying it just because you were his girlfriend and you were ‘supposed’ to comfort him. You knew Gallagher’s words struck a chord with Sonny whether he admitted it or not. 

You had dinner ready for him when he came home, wanting him to relax after the long day. He had thanked you with a kiss and dug into his meal without another word. 

“Sonny, do you want to talk about it?” You asked your boyfriend as he looked over his papers once you two retired to the couch after dinner. 

“No, doll. I’m fine.” He didn’t even look up at you as he sorted through his stuff. You grabbed his hands and laced your fingers with his. He sighed and his eyes met yours. 

“Baby…” You tried but he shook his head.

“I’m embarrassed. I don’t want to talk about this right now. I want to get my bearings together and take this son of a bitch down.” You bit your lip and nodded. You knew Sonny would talk about it when he was ready. The fact that he even admitted to being embarrassed was sign enough and it also made your heart ache something fierce. 

“Okay. I’m going to go to bed but I need you to know there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Especially not with me. His words weren’t true. Don’t let him get to you, baby.” His face was flushed pink and in that moment you wanted to find Gallagher and knock him out. But he’d pay, he wouldn’t get away with this. You had complete faith in Sonny’s courtroom abilities and he wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“Thanks, doll.” He gave you a half smile and you pressed your lips to it. You put more effort in this kiss. Wanting him to know just how much you loved him and that you were there for him. 

“I love you, Sonny. We’re going to get him.”

It was a rough few days in court to say the least, of course when you thought Sonny was winning over the jury, Calhoun would come in and tear apart Sonny’s pull on them. And vice versa. You didn’t know what to think anymore and as much faith as you had in Sonny, you were worried that the jury may just let Gallagher off the hook like he always had been. But after another ADA, who testified against Gallagher, recorded him admitting to what he had done, it was game over. Rita came to a deal with Sonny and they took it in front of the judge. You weren’t all that happy with the outcome, the fact that he would be free of his own accord within an ankle monitor's limits… it wasn’t fair. It was disgusting honestly. And just when you were about to cut your losses and count this as a win, the judge spoke up. Not liking the deal that was offered, she demanded that Gallagher spend his year of house arrest in a jail cell. To say you were all relieved and emotional over the verdict was an understatement. Was one year enough for a man like Gallagher, not even close, but for now it would do. Sonny was happy with the outcome as he told you he’d see you at home after he finished up at the courthouse. 

You were more than eager to get home before Sonny, an idea formulating in your head of how you could celebrate this win for him. He deserved something special after such a stressful week. When you got home you received a text from Sonny alerting you he was on his way. You excitedly slipped on a lacy little number you had bought just last week and threw your silk robe over it. Sonny deserved some stress relief and you were going to give it to him. You heard the jingle of the keys in the lock and then he walked in. You walked over to him, a smile on your face. You wore the robe all the time so it wasn’t odd that Sonny didn’t think anything of it. He definitely didn’t know what was hiding underneath. 

“You did it, baby. I’m so proud of you.” You pulled him into you for a hug and he wrapped one arm around your waist and buried his other hand in your hair. 

“Team effort.” He said, pulling away. You rolled your eyes at his humbleness and placed a small kiss on his lips. 

“It was all you. Go sit down, I’ll get you a beer.” You patted his chest and he nodded, placing a kiss to your temple and sitting down on the couch. Taking off his jacket and loosening his tie. You went to the kitchen and to the fridge to pull out one of Sonny’s favorites, you twisted the cap and then walked over. Handing it to him from behind the couch. He took if from you and you placed your arms around him from behind. “Hey,” you whispered in his ear. Placing a kiss on the shell of it and lightly tracing your way down his neck with your lips. He hummed and when you ran your hands down his chest he set the bottle down on the table. 

“What’re you doing, doll?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone and you smiled. 

“I thought you deserved a little stress relief after this week. Figured you deserved a little something for all your hard work and dedication.” You whispered in his ear, he shifted slightly. 

“What’s this little something?” He asked, sounding out of breath already. You giggled and withdrew from him. Going around the couch to stand in front of him. He waited and when you started to undo your robe his brows lifted. The real treat was seeing his face as soon as the robe fell to the floor in a crimson heap. 

“Jesus christ.” Your red lace was a bit more scandalous than others in your collection and even had a garter belt which Sonny was eyeing appreciatively. 

“Now, Sonny, I thought you weren’t supposed to take the lord’s name in vain.” You crawled onto his lap. His hands immediately grabbed on to your waist and ran down to your thighs, getting his hands on whatever part of you he could. It felt comforting and you hummed in response. 

“Doll, this is…” He shook his head, not being able to find his words. You smiled and leaned down, pulling him in for a kiss. It was slow, and wet, and everything you both were needing. You could feel the tent in his pants as you sat comfortably in his lap. 

“Put this on just for me?” He asked, leaning forward to nip at your neck. You tightened your grip on his shoulders as he grabbed your ass in his hands and squeezed. You rocked forward on him making him groan as your clothed center slid across him. You let out a little whimper at the contact and continued to slowly grind down on him. Both of you needed this intimacy after a long week of work and barely any interaction. 

“Mmm, Sonny. God, you get me so wet without having to do anything.” It was true. Just one look from him and your thighs would clench. He had this air about him. He let out a groan at your words. 

“Listen to me,” You told him, taking his chin between your thumb and pointer finger to get him to meet your eyes. His were filled with need and you were going to give him what he wanted but first you needed to make sure he knew how important he was. “You, Dominick Carisi Jr. are one hell of a lawyer. One hell of a man. So damn intelligent. So fucking kind.” 

You rolled your hips as you spoke, keeping his gaze locked with yours. 

“I’m so proud of you. You should be proud of yourself. You’re exceptional, Sonny. No less.” You leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips, “no less than exceptional.” When you pulled back his eyes were not just dark with lust but a gleam of love and appreciation. His eyes sparkled as he teared up. You knew your words got through to him, you knew he understood just how much he was loved and cared for. 

“I love you, curore mio.” My heart. You smiled and pulled him in for another kiss, letting it get away from you as your tongue met his. Eventually you had half a mind to pull away, still trying to stick to your plan. An exceptional man deserved something exceptional. 

“Gonna make you feel good, Sonny.” You said and slipped off his lap. He was confused at your withdrawal until you placed your hands on his thighs and got down on your knees, pushing his legs open to make room for you. 

“Fuck…” You smirked at his speechless state. You bit your lip as you undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He sat up to help you ease them down along with his briefs. He was already hard and leaking, his cock now pressed against his abdomen. You licked your palm and then placed it on his member, starting to slide it up and down. He groaned but kept his eyes on you. You leaned forward to have a taste, your mouth watering at the sight of him. You licked the precome off the tip and he let out a curse. He was always so sensitive and it only turned you on even more. The tang of him stayed on your tastebuds and you wanted more. You licked the underside of his shaft all the way back up to the tip, his hand tightened on the couch. 

“My handsome man,” you licked again, “so sexy, sonny.” Then another, “all mine.” 

“Shit, doll. So beautiful like this. Always so good to me.” He groaned as you took the head in your mouth and sucked. You flicked your tongue into the slit as you sucked a little harder and his hand flew to your hair as he moaned. You smirked around him and then pulled off to talk. 

“Want you to come down my throat.” Is all you said before you took him down your throat. He threw his head back as you encased him in your mouth. The warmth and weight on him on your tongue only made you wetter. But this wasn’t about you. 

“F-fuck, baby. That feels amazing, just like that.” He tried to control his hips and the hand in your hair as you bobbed up and down on his length. Taking him all the way down to the base and swallowing. He particularly liked that and had no control over his hips as he bucked deeper down your throat. You gagged on him but made no movement to stop which looked like he was about to suggest. As much as Sonny loved this, you loved doing it. Seeing him come undone above you, it was a heady kind of thrill and you only wanted to keep it going. You kept the fast pace, his cock now messy with your spit and his precome. You knew he was holding back, not wanting to hurt you as he simply kept his hand on your head, not pushing or pulling. But you wanted him to push, wanted him to let go and use your mouth. Wanted to see him come completely undone. You pulled off him and placed sloppy kisses down his cock and took his balls into your mouth as you stroked him.

“Oh god, doll. Fuck yes.” He panted as you sucked his balls and made them wet. 

“Don’t hold back, Sonny. Fuck my mouth.” You mumbled against his sac, mouthing at them and then sliding back up his cock to take him back into your mouth. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, worry evident on his face.

“Yes.” Is all you said as you take him back down again. He took a firmer grip on your hair and then bucked into your mouth, making you gag as he pushed you down with his hand. You encouraged him by not pulling off. He did it again and again.

“Oh, fuck. I like that. So good for me, so good…” He trailed off as he threw his head back and kept using your mouth to get off. Tears were rolling down your face and drool hung from your chin but you had never been wetter. You and Sonny we're no strangers to certain debauched activities but you two had never done this. It was making your center throb as his tip met the back of your throat. The sounds were obscene as he got off on your mouth. 

“Stay down on it, doll.” He breathed out as he held you down, your lips at the base of his cock. You placed your hands on his thighs and dove further into him making him yelp as he went farther down your throat. You then opened your mouth wider to stick your tongue out to lick right at his balls.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come. Keep doing that. Jesus christ, look at you.” He had his eyes on you again, as he had his cock down your throat and your tongue on his balls. You hummed around him and he started to come undone. 

“I’m coming.” He said before he started bucking fast into your mouth, you choked but tried to breathe through your nose as best as you could in order for him to get off. You reached up to fondle his balls. He let out a loud groan as his seed painted the back of your throat and he held you down as spurt after spurt of come was released. It was enthralling to watch him let go, powerful to know it was because of you. He loosened his grip in your hair once he came back down from his climax and you slid off him to swallow what you had. Sonny looked wrecked, not that you probably looked any better. You placed a kiss to his tip before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“That was… fuck that was amazing. Are you okay?” He asked, tugging at your arms for you to slide into his lap. You complied and placed your hands on his chest. 

“I’m fine, that was hot.” You said biting your lip. Your panties were definitely ruined with how wet you had gotten. 

“Yeah? Enjoyed that just as much as me?” He asked, against your neck as he trailed one hand down to your panties and slipped his fingers in. 

“Jesus, you did.” He said as he ran his fingers along your wet folds. You whined and bucked into his touch. You were already so close. 

“Like that, Sonny.” You moaned and arched your back as he rubbed at your clit and slipped two fingers inside you. You were already burning so damn hot with need it wasn’t going to take much to come just from his fingers alone. 

“Let me get my mouth on–”

“No, I’m not gonna last long. Just stay like that.” You held his hand in place with your other hand gripping onto his shoulder. You rode his fingers fast, so close to the edge after having your mouth on him.

“Fuck, doll. Look at you. So fucking needy. Want you to come for me.” He put more pressure on your clit and curled his fingers inside of you and you were done for. You let out a cry as your orgasm crashed into you, arching your back as Sonny continued his ministrations through your high. Your head clouded and your eyes grew heavy at the relief of your orgasm. You pushed his hand away once you came down, your clit now extremely sensitive. The build up of being turned on while going down on Sonny worked you up really well. 

“That was hot.” Sonny said as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. You groaned at the sight and leaned your forehead against his. You two were quiet as you gained back your breath and he pulled away to take your face in his hands.

“Thank you. For this but also for what you said.” He whispered, eyes staring right into yours. You knew the judge’s words hit a spot within Sonny, but so did yours and you knew they overpowered what was thrown at him the other day. 

“Exceptional, Sonny. Exceptional.” 

#sonny carisi #sonny carisi x reader #Sonny Carisi x You #sonny carisi imagine #law & order svu #law and order svu

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 30)

She knows that there is not a soul left in the world that cares for her. She knows it because if there was, someone would have reached out and taken her hand. Someone would have realized that she was slowly dying and they would have given her at least a little sip of water and a small morsel to eat. 

Nobody does. 

Because nobody cares. 

For all of its heat, she is certain that the Fire Nation is colder than the poles. 

No wonder she herself is so cold.

Her body aches and pains in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Dehydration leaves her muscles cramped without mercy. She puts one foot in front of the other, over and over. Her mind has grown numb to all else. Her head throbs and she has run out of sweat. She stumbles and pitches forward. She doesn’t have the energy to pick herself back up and so she drags herself on all fours. Crawling on her hands and knees. 

She doesn’t think of anything else, just of moving limb after limb until she finds herself at the base of a cliff. The Black Cliffs she realizes, faintly. She drags herself to the shoreline, tears welling in her eyes. 

She greedily laps at the water, feeling just as uncivilized as she has become. She thinks that there is nothing left of who she had been. Nothing good anyhow. She is certain that she has still retained and regained all of the most unsavory bits. 

After helping herself to copious amounts of water, she lets her body fall limp. Arm outstretched, her fingers dip into the water. Water that laps gently at the sand. The cliffs tower high above her, shadows washing over her. Atop them, short strands of grass sway and swish. A fuzzy green to adorn the otherwise craggy landscape.She bunches herself up; at the very least she will have a nice view to go with her death.

She doesn’t expect to wake up but she does. And she awakes to familiar pains. At least she is no longer thirsty, at least the water cools her body. At least she can refill the waterskin. But how terribly her stomach pangs. And the sun burns on her skin sear a bright red. Her skin is already peeling in places, she feels even less human.

She climbs to her feet anyhow, dizzy, swaying. 

She walks for miles, empty headed, reduced to nothing but the aches in her stomach and feet. The throbbing of her head. 

She isn’t going to make it, she isn’t sure why she is trying. 

She wonders if her corpse will be found and if she will be buried respectfully or unceremoniously. Perhaps her body will rot where it falls…

Approaching from the other direction, she sees the first people that she had encountered in days...weeks? 

She wonders if it would make a difference to tell them that she is their princess.

She recalls her haggard state and wonders if they’d believe her.

She approaches them.

She opens her mouth. She knows that she had.

But the blackness overtakes her--she isn’t sure if she had gotten any word out. Her body, spent and at its limit trembles all over even in sleep. She doesn’t wake up for some time. And when she does, she wakes alone. Alone and somewhere entirely new. 

Her heart thunders in her chest; where have they taken her? Is she dead? It’s dark. She chokes out a little sob. She doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. She shivers; what if she has gotten herself mixed up with the slave traders? Agni, can’t the universe at least let her die a free woman?

But her hands, her ankles...they aren’t bound.

Curiously, her middle doesn’t ache quite as terribly. They, whoever they are, must have fed her. 

Azula sits up and the tarp falls away. She looks around and her eyes fall upon a stocky man with a full beard and ample eyebrows. “What…?” She gestures to the tarp. The man catches it before it can blow away entirely.

“It was to keep the sun off of you.” The man says gruffly. He is a soldier. She thinks that she recognizes him. She can’t put a name to a face right now, neither can she put it to a memory.

Still shaking, she rakes her hands through her hair. 

Her hair!

Her dismay must have registered on her face because the man states plainly, “Matted. We wouldn’t have been able to comb it so we cut it.”

She falls back to the floor of the cart. It doesn’t matter. Long, lustrous hair is for the dignified anyways. She bunches herself back up. 

“We’ll take you as far as the outskirts of Caldera City, then you fend for yourself.” 

She manages a small nod but inquires, “why did you pick me up at all?”

“We’re not savages. We’re trying to show the world that the Fire Nation isn’t cruel.” The soldier shrugs.

But compared to everywhere else that she has been, it is. Very much so. 

“But we’re not about to give rewards to someone like you.”

“Like me?” It is an impulse to ask.

“Dirty. Dumb. Useless. You haven’t earned your keep.”

And now she recognizes him. He had been one of Admiral Zhao’s subordinates. Arrogant and dumber than he thinks she. She has earned her keep more than thrice over. It isn’t her fault that the universe keeps stealing it away from her. 

It isn’t her fault that the universe has a vendetta against her specifically. That it is trying to give her the fill of bad luck she had missed. Maybe in another fourteen years--maybe eleven to twelve if the years she has suffered already count--she will fall into another era of fortune. 

Maybe if she can last that long.

“You gonna get a job when you get to the outskirts or are you gonna…”

She doesn’t have the patience to listen to him anymore. Doesn’t have the patience for small minded assumptions and baseless judgements. She doesn’t have the emotional energy to deal with her own former ideals thrown back at her again. And again. And again…

She isn’t sure how many times she has to pay for them.

When it will end. 

When the world will finally acknowledge that she is doing her best. That she isn’t evil through and through; that she is just a woman who wants a home and peace of mind…

The rocking of the cart jars and unsettles her.

She thinks that she has learned it quite a while back but more subtly, kindly; that day she learns not to sneer at those who are down on their luck. She doesn’t know them. They don’t know her.

.oOo.

She is almost overwhelmed by how much attention she is getting. Mostly it is from Sokka who holds her as close as he physically can. But it is from Zuko too, who fixes her some tea (“just the way uncle always makes it!”) and from TyLee who gushes over what a caring mother she is until her cheeks grow red. It comes from Mai who brings her scrolls to read and occupy her mind with. From the servants and Lo and Li...

Caihong hasn’t spoken with her since she delivered the bad news nearly four days ago. 

“Trust me. Children are just like that.” Ursa insists. “She’ll come around.” 

But Azula hadn’t. 

She still hasn’t. 

She is still angry with the woman. 

The woman who had left her feeling neglected and hated for much of her life. The woman who, with uncle in tow, finally made her appearance--and at the worst possible time--two days prior. 

And yet the woman has her hand on the small of her back and rubs in small circles. At least Iroh knows to keep his distance. But really, aside from the lashing of her tongue, there isn’t a particular risk in pestering her. 

Ursa reaches out and grazes her fingers over the scar on Azula’s neck. The princess flinches back and her mother grimaces. 

“What happened, dear?”

“Ask Zuzu.” She is so tired and she doesn’t feel like explaining it again. She really doesn’t feel like dealing with more pity. 

“She’s been through a lot.” Sokka takes his seat at the edge of the bed. “And she can use some fresh air. Let's go for a walk, Azula.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You shouldn’t just sit in your room all day.”

“I’m not. I leave occasionally to get something to eat and have my bath…” 

“What about to socialize?”

Azula crinkles her nose and he laughs. She is in utter distress and he is laughing. “Talking to people isn’t that bad. Look how nice all of the Earth Kingdomers were to you.” He gestures to her journal. 

She takes it in her hands and stares at it for sometime before shoving it into Ursa’s arms. “Talk to me when you’re done reading it.” 

“Azula--!?”

“You haven’t even read the first page yet.” She scoffs. 

“You shouldn’t be so mean to your--”

Azula cuts him a glare.

“Strawberry garden, let’s check on that.” This time it is a nervous laugh. 

She grabs his hand and quite roughly. She doesn’t mean to be so rough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Caihong is already in the garden when they arrive, babbling away with TyLee. She holds Bao up with a delighted squeal. 

Azula sits down next to the child who turns around with a “hmph!” 

“Oh come on, Caihong,” TyLee tries, “Azula really wants to talk to you. She cares about you a lot.”

Caihong folds her arms, “nuh-uh, she makes me sad.” 

Azula’s stomach flutters. 

“Sometimes bad things happen, Cai.” Sokka tries. “She didn’t make this thing happen she was only telling you what happened.” He pauses. “Don’t you think you would have been sadder if that bad guy took you back to WuJing and no one was there?”

Caihong’s pout grows. 

“At least now you have me and TyLee and Zuko and…” He lifts her up and turns her around to face Azula, “you have a mom.”

“My mom died.” She says plainly, fidgeting with Bao’s claws. “‘S not fair.” 

“No kidding…” Sokka mutters. “My mom died too. Sometimes there are just bad people, Caihong. And they take really good people away. But there are lots of other good people and you have to talk to them.” He scoops her up and plops her into Azula’s lap. 

“But…”

“Is Azula a bad person?” TyLee asks.

Azula cringes at the question coming from her.

“Did she do something bad to you?”

Caihong looks up at her with those bright green eyes and shakes her head. 

“Did she do something good for you?”

Another glance is accompanied by an affirmative nod. “Lots of good things.” Caihong mumbles into Bao’s head. 

“So why are you mad at her?” Sokka asks. 

Caihong thinks for a moment, “she told me about the bad people.”

“And you didn’t want to hear it?”

Caihong shakes her head again. 

“Would you have rather heard it from someone else?”

Another head shake. This time her little fingers curl around Azula’s hand. 

“Do you still want Azula to be your mommy!?” TyLee clasps her hands together. 

Caihong pauses, squeezing and squeezing Azula’s hand before nodding once more.  Caihong nuzzles her cheek against Azula’s chest and Azula holds her close. She strokes at the child’s hair. “Bao and I were having a cave adventure.” 

“A cave adventure?”

“Mmhmm, see.” Caihong points at a small hole that she dug right in the middle of Azula’s strawberry garden. The princess sighs. 

“Did you find anything in the caves?”

“Rubies!” She declares, gesturing to the slain corpses of her strawberries. 

“Those rubies weren’t ready to be mined yet.” She mumbles. 

She isn’t sure why, but Caihong laughs. People, she decides, laugh at the strangest things. “You can plant more rubies, mom!” 

Mom…

Mother…

She could have had so much…

.oOo.

Even after tucking a newly happy and babbling Caihong in, Azula is very quiet. Sullen and withdrawn. Sokka sets a platter of roast duck on her nightstand, “you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, Sokka.”  She doesn’t look away from the ceiling. She absently toys with the curtains draped over her bed. He doesn’t push her this time, though he decides that he will be delivering an extra nice breakfast to her in the morning. He lays himself down next to her. He very nearly springs back up, unsure if they have reached a point where she is comfortable with him laying on her bed. But she rolls over and reaches for his hand. 

“You haven’t even changed out of your day clothes.” He observes. 

She gives a slight shrug, “they’re comfortable enough. I’ve…”

“Slept in worse?” He rolls his eyes. 

She nods. 

“You’re going to be alright, Azula.” He promises. 

“Perhaps.” 

He sighs, they have been so focused on reassuring Caihong that he has forgotten to comfort Azula. He is certain that the princess has been neglecting herself too. “Ya know, everything we said about family applies to you too? Do you want Caihong to be your child?” 

“Of course, Sokka. I wouldn’t have gone through all of that trouble if I didn’t.” 

“Do you…” He swallows. “Do you want a new lover? A new husband?”

She is quiet for a very long time but she doesn’t withdraw her hand. “I don’t want to replace Hajime.” 

“I don’t want to replace him.” Sokka replies. “I want you to talk about him and tell me about him. But I want to be Sokka, I don’t want to take you on the kinds of dates Hajime took you on, I want to…”

She presses her fingers to his lips. “You talk too much. I got the point the first time.” She rolls back onto her back. “I know that you aren’t replacing anyone. You are Sokka. That’s good enough for me.” 

He takes his chances with moving closer to her. Having success, he slides his arm around her waist. She is quiet for another long span. It might have left him feeling anxious had she not let him trace his finger over the line of the scar on her belly. It is rougher in comparison to her otherwise delicate skin. 

“I don’t think that ‘good enough’, is exactly the right phrase.” She speaks again. “It’s…” she trails off. “It’s something new and it’s...it’s just as special.”  

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Fanfiction

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Beauty Chooses II-Chapter 17

             A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter 17 1776

The man hunched over, under a blanket, and headed up the mountain road. He was desperately tired and almost starved after hiding from people who would take him into custody. He narrowly escaped the first attempt to take him, but his papers had convinced the ruffians to move on. After that he took no chances and stayed hidden from sight, only moving under the cover of darkness. He could easily hide in the vegetation of the mountain road if someone was coming, so he felt safe walking in the daylight. He looked up the mountain and wondered how far it was and if she would still be there. He kept walking.

I looked up from my garden to see Brain walk out of the woods with a deer slumped dead on his shoulder. He was happy and tossed the thing onto our processing table to butcher it. It filled me with relief when he brought more meat to store away because I expected it could be a very unstable winter. Jamie has been gone for a week, meeting with the governor who is calling in his debt. This beautiful land, the Ridge, that allowed our community to prosper all these years had a price and Jamie would be the one to pay it. I wanted Jamie back home, to hear the news, and to hold him for as long as I could. I’m feeling powerless and scared, like the final days at Lallybroch before the blue stone saved us all.

Every man, young or old, that resided on the Ridge, was aligned with the rebels against the king's army. Many would fight against the loyalists when they were called. This secret was carefully kept. When the government came sniffing, they were told strong loyalists were present to stand at the hand of their leader, Jamie Fraser. It made my stomach turn to think of the dangerous game they were playing. I tried to concentrate on harvesting the last of the garden before it rested for the winter.

I stood up, stretching my back to ease the stiffness and thought, not for the first time, that fifty-four years of age was too young to suffer from constant back pain. When the ache passed, I walked to the gardening shed to put up my tools for the day. It was time to start the evening meal, my duty since Misses Crook was called home to heaven. It had been three years and I still looked for her from time to time and missed her always. As close to a mother I would ever know, a part of me felt empty without her. I walked toward Brian to admire his deer, but his love interest came out of nowhere and hugged his neck. He looked so happy, beaming a smile at her. I decided not to intrude and headed to the house.

Glavia was already adding chunks of vegetables to the pot in the kitchen. Since Daniel was away for his father’s funeral, we decided to feed everybody at one home, mine was far larger. It was so nice to have her here for the past week and I hugged her when I entered the kitchen. Glavia’s oldest son accompanied his father to the funeral, but the other two were there in the kitchen, getting in the way, regaling us with funny stories of their trip to town. I hugged them both and let them know that Brian shot a deer to add to our winter stores. Glavia looked at me with relief. We had seen our share of near starvation over the years when fate and the weather worked against us. It taught us to double our garden space and sell less of the harvest each year.

Jamie has provided for us quite well, however those lean years were terrifying. We all shared what little we had, and the men hunted ten hours a day with little to show for it. Jamie decided to do something about that and used every penny we had to purchase animals, wherever and whenever he found them. It started with three chickens and we feasted on the fresh eggs the first year. The next year he brought home a rooster and soon there were fluffy baby chickens all over the yard, sticking close to their mothers as they pecked the dirt. The chicken coup was enlarged twice to facilitate their numbers and we invited all families on the Ridge to take part in their upkeep, feeding, cleaning, and protecting. I dubbed it the Ridge Cooperative and it grew as we added pig breeding, then sheep, then a few goats. Through this effort, we added pork, eggs, chicken, goat cheese. milk, and wool to our daily existence. It took many years to build up a strong breeding and selling program and we made a lot of mistakes. I remember Misses Crook running across the front yard with a pan of chicken feed in her hand, screaming bloody murder, and a huge male pig chasing her. The giggle bubbled up when the kitchen was quiet, and I realized everyone was looking at me.

I turned around and shrugged my shoulders, “just remembering the pig chasing Misses Crook across the yard.”

Everyone seemed keen on sharing a funny story about Misses Crook, we laughed and held our stomachs until she was there with us again through our memories. I could feel her presence and my eyes stung from tears that were held back. Glavia yelled at her boys to bring the chairs in from the parlor and gave me a knowing smile.

Two years ago, Jamie returned from his spring run to town for seed and supplies with a skinny cow tied to the back of the wagon and I nearly fainted. A cow! I was thrilled to have milk again, real milk, after so many years. The poor cow was malnourished and half dead after the trek up the mountain, but I was determined to bring her to the peak of health and have fresh milk every day. I named her Bluebell, after my favorite ice cream in my century. Now she is three times that size and free-range, coming home each day to be milked and have a scoop of grain and fresh grass hay. I focused on getting stew into bowls and wondered where my daughter was.

Faith snapped out of her daydreaming and stretched at her desk in the schoolroom. She stayed late to prepare the lessons for the next day and got lost in her mind where she constructed her perfect life filled with friends and love, children, and a home. Whenever she allowed herself to think of such things it always left her emotional because she would never have such things. She was busy with learning to teach, helping the community with childbirth, and medicating cuts, burns, and headaches, when she should have been socializing and flirting with the growing number of eligible bachelors in the community. She couldn’t be bothered at that time and somehow the years pushed her over the proper age of marriage and to her horror sealed her fate as a spinster. She shook her head and yawned, reaching for her cloak to go home.

It was already dark when Faith closed the door to the schoolroom and the cold breeze seemed to go right through her. Hunkering into her cloak she hurried home until she saw movement in the trees. She stopped and set her eyes on one tree, the way she was taught, and stared straight at it. There it was, a figure, man or beast, moving slowly up the road to the ridge. She watched it struggle to put one foot in front of the other and finally collapse. She started running, realizing it was a human and called out she was coming.

“Sir, are you well? Do you need food or water?”

She struggled to pull the man to his feet and looked at his handsome face. “Who do you come to see?”

“Claire.”

“Come with me, I will take you to her.”

“Thank God.”

Claire heard Faith calling from the front door, and with her mother’s-hearing, knew something was not right. She wiped her hands on her apron and came quickly.

“Who is this Faith?”

“I don’t know, I saw him fall on the road and ran to help him. He asked…for you.”

“Come and sit down sir, I am Claire Fraser, you look like you could use some food and drink.”

Before I could walk away the man’s hand shot out and seized my arm.

“Pet.”

I felt paralyzed, stunned into silence. That name, Pet, was from a long time ago, and it once meant so much to me. The years of separation made my memory foggy as I tried to remember…

“Dear God, is it you, Joe?”

I fell to my knees and pushed the blanket off his head so I could see his face. It was all I could do not to faint when his incredible eyes found mine. I jumped up and hugged him for all I was worth, sobbing his name over and over. He pulled me to the couch and looked at my face smiling.

“I’ve missed you, Pet.”

I held his hand so tight and sobbed. I wanted to ask him what he was doing here, why did he come, where was Baritone, how long could he stay. But I couldn’t form a single word in my shocked mind, so I just looked at him and cried. Glavia was so happy to see him and hugged him with her own tears rolling down her face.

By now, everyone was standing in the parlor, watching us, wondering who this man was that meant so much to us.

“Joe, may I introduce you to my son, Brian, Glavia’s sons, Matthew and Jacob, and this is Faith, who you held as an infant. Everybody, this is Joe Abernathy, my dearest friend.”

The boys approached respectfully and shook hands in welcome and smiled with warmth. Brian was especially interested and remained close enough to hear every word. Joe spoke to each of them, asking about their lives, their age, their favorite things. He still held my hand and Brian was silently observing. We pulled him into the kitchen and got three bowls of stew in him while we continued to talk about superficial things. As Glavia and I cleaned up the kitchen, Joe continued to talk with the boys. His interest in them made them want to talk, so they did. I could tell Brian wanted to grill him about how he knew me so well, but he politely excused himself to fetch his little love for an evening walk. When Glavia took her boys home she hugged Joe and kissed his cheek, promising to visit every day while he was here.

Faith had not uttered a word since bringing Joe home. It was her nature to sit quietly and observe things she did not understand. Joe looked at her and beamed a smile in her direction.

“I cannot tell you how good it is to see you again, young lady. You have grown into a beautiful woman and I see parts of both parents in your face.”

Joe’s speech and mannerisms were not of this time or place and his statement about her beauty was taboo for a stranger, making her shrink into the corner. I wanted to speak freely with Joe and made a fuss about how tired he looked.

“Let me show you to the guest room, Joe. I will bring hot water for you to wash and then you can rest. We will have loads of time to catch up I hope.”

When we were alone, he asked if I could come to his room later and talk. I nodded yes and smiled, telling him to rest until then. I knew I had to say something to Faith, but what? One thing I was sure of, I wouldn’t lie to her.

“Mama?”

“Yes, darling, I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I would like to talk when your father is here, the three of us. Do you mind terribly?”

“No, I can wait.”

She kissed me on the cheek and went upstairs to her room, brimming with questions I’m sure. Once in my own room, I tried to read, then paced for a bit, and finally crept downstairs and tapped on Joe’s door. He opened it and hugged me into the room. I was decidedly uncomfortable, in a closed room with a man who was not my husband. I shook my head like I was daft, but it didn’t help. After spending more years in this century than my own, I could not allow such impropriety and suggested we speak quietly in the kitchen. I poured whisky for us both and the strong spirit took his breath away at first, then he slid the glass back toward the bottle and I poured another round.

“We said your name every day, Pet, at least once, Baritone and me. He loved you like a sister. When I went through his things, I found a sonogram picture of Faith that he kept all these years and a picture of you and him in front of the fire talking.”

A tear rolled down Joe’s cheek and I grabbed his hand, “what happened?”

“He died of a brain tumor. Diagnosis to death in six months. Inoperable and no treatment. I sold my practice right away and we traveled, lived the high-life, ate, drank, loved, and talked for hours and hours. We walked the surf of so many countries and talked until he couldn’t anymore. The tumor ravaged his brain in four months, so I brought him home, put him to bed, and kept talking. If there was a single piece of brain tissue left that could interpret my voice, I wanted him to know I was right next to him.”

Joe cried into his shirt, trying to stay quiet. I hugged him and he gripped me like a life saver to a drowning man. I just held him and rocked back and forth, saying how sorry I was that he lost his love. It was quite some time we stayed like that. Until he could speak again, I just rocked him.

“He is buried at Lallybroch. It was his wish, the only place that ever felt like home, he said. Every spring he would collect those hay cubes left from the last harvest and give them to a neighbor for his horse. We would go together when I could get away for a few days. To care for the house, prepare it for winter, drive into town, and visit Fiona.” Joe was quiet for a minute. “ We kept our room in the basement, it was comfortable, and the master bedroom just had too much of you and Jamie in it. After Baritone was laid to rest, I spent three days in that room and your energy seemed to wrap around me in comfort. I swear, Pet, I felt you there.”

“I’m so glad it brought you comfort, Joe.

“I couldn’t cope with losing both of you. I spent a week in the library and online, learning everything I could about this century, I found plenty of bills of sale in the archives, for… slave ownership, and had one forged with Jamie’s name on it. It got me out of being arrested when I first got here, after that, I only traveled at night.”

“I am so honored and overwhelmed that you came to find me. It was quite a risk though, how could you be sure we were still here?” I watched Joe struggle to answer and when he did it broke my heart.

“I am in a dark place, Pet. I wanted to see you and nothing else mattered.”

I could see his hands shaking and knew he was exhausted. “Do you think you can sleep, Joe? We can talk again tomorrow. Jamie should be home tomorrow and he will be so happy to see you.”

“Yes, thank you, Pet. See you in the morning.”

I turned the lamps down as I moved toward the stairs. I felt so sad about Baritone’s passing and Joe’s broken heart. Hopefully, some time on the Ridge will heal his heart and soul, meanwhile I have my best friend back.

I always woke early when Jamie was away. I had started the porridge cooking when I heard the front door close and looked around the corner. Joe was standing rigid, glaring at me, and I felt the hair on my neck stand up.

“What is it Joe, what’s happened?”

He looked at me for a whole minute before he answered making me very uncomfortable.

“You have slaves.”

“Certainly not, don’t be ridiculous.”

“What are all those dark-skinned men doing working your fields, Pet?”

I pulled his hand to the kitchen and pushed him into a chair. “They are not my slaves, they are working their own fields. We do not allow slavery on the Ridge, we never have.”

I put a bowl in front of him and noticed his expression was still concern and maybe some disbelief.

“It hasn’t been easy and we have had to fight for their right to stay here. Jamie has ownership papers on every person of color in our community. It’s against the law to free a slave in this time and we have been forced to prove our right to them. It is nasty business owning a human being but here they are equal to every other person on the Ridge. Maybe it’s not true freedom. They cannot leave here but they can choose to farm their own land or any other profession they fancy, they raise their families and all the children are schooled together.” I took a deep breath and looked at my friend. “It’s the best life they can have now that they are in this country and no one tells them what to do. They are happy here.”

I felt his hand cover mine, “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. You and Jamie have done a remarkable thing for these people. What of Murtagh?”

“He is with Jamie right now but normally spends most of his time in town. He has a blacksmith business there. It was his idea to free the ten slaves that were sent to work here by Jamie’s aunt. It all started with him.”

Faith had been listening from upstairs and meekly entered the kitchen and said hello to her mother and Joe. She ate her breakfast, cleaned the kitchen up, and went outside to collect eggs and wait for her father to get home. She agreed to wait for him before her questions were answered and it was killing her not to blurt them out. Why was her mother so familiar with this man? Why did he talk like an educated man? When and where did he hold her as an infant? Faith was sure Brian would have questions of his own.

I talked with Joe for most of the morning and when I heard the wagon outside, I flew to the door and rushed outside. It took a moment to find him with all the men around but when the sun bounced off those azure eyes, I made a mad dash for him and jumped into his arms. He hugged me to him and whispered endearments into my ear. I was so happy to see him and whispered that Joe was here. Jamie held me at arm's length and looked at me with shock on his face.

“Did ye say Joe, mo chridhe?”

“Yes, he came last night. He is heartsick because Baritone died, and he just had to see us and hopefully feel better. I left him a stone shard in case he ever needed to find me.”

Jamie’s face broke into a smile, “I canna wait to see him Sassenach, where is…”

Joe was walking toward Jamie when he looked up and the men shook hands and hugged both smiling and laughing.

“It’s good to see ye, Joe. I’ll be wantin yer time to talk in a bit but I havena washed in a week… and need to.”

Murtagh was next to shake hands and hug Joe, then the three of them headed for the stream for a chilly bath. I brought towels down for them and stopped in my tracks at the sight of them, laughing and talking, so happy to be in each other’s company again.

I put out the noon meal and we sat around the table and talked, about Baritone, Misses Crook, our children, Joe’s practice, and a million other things. We talked about the night Joe and I jumped to find Jamie in the wagon at Lallybroch and how Joe started his heart again once we were back, only to nearly lose him again from blood loss two days later.

“It was Baritone that found the blood you needed but I never asked him how, and now it’s too late,” I whispered, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

“He was a good man. Let us toast our good friend.”

Jamie poured whisky all around and asked us to stand and held his glass up, “I swear by my hope in heaven that we’ll meet again my friend. To Baritone.”

“To Baritone,” said in unison, and the whisky was tossed back to fortify us during this heartbreaking memorial.

I watched for Faith to come in all afternoon to stem any talk of jumping and the century in the future. I wasn’t aware she was upstairs listening to every word until I ran up for my cloak and fell over her. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall and when I tumbled to the ground, I sat up quickly, eye to eye with her and knew she had heard it all.

“Please Faith, wait for your father and me to have a moment to talk with you about this. I know it sounds impossible and you have questions that I promise to answer but it has to wait sweetheart.”

“Why? You were all there together. Why can’t you all answer them for me? It’s what I want mama, as soon as Glavia gets here.”

I wanted to speak with Jamie about this first, but Faith had heard almost every detail of our living in the future and then jumping back. I surrendered to what I felt was fair at that moment. She is an adult and we should treat her as such.

“Alright, Faith, why don’t you get Glavia back here and we will all fill in the details of an extraordinary experience you had as an infant, and who Joe really is.”

Faith was down the steps and out the door before I could get off the floor. I cursed my old bones and pulled my jacket down before getting my cloak for a meet and greet later with Joe. I walked into the kitchen and the three dearest men in my life looked up at me.

“Faith has been upstairs this whole time. I didn’t know. She has questions about Lallybroch, living in the future, jumping back to this time, and more. I asked her to get Glavia and we would tell her all about it.”

I looked at Jamie and he smiled and nodded, much to my relief.

“Come sit with me Sassenach, I need ye near me lass.”

He held my hand under the table and whispered to me, “have courage in the truth, love.” Not a minute later, Glavia and Faith joined the table and we began. Faith asked for each of us to add to the story and I suggested Joe start with our trip to Scotland and seeing me walk through the stones. Jamie picked up the story and described Master Raymond walking into the stone and just minutes later I shot out. He said prayers that the baby was alive and well after the demons tried to take her from my womb.

“It was difficult, saying goodbye to my pregnant wife the last night before the stones would open and allow passage. We were still on the ship and had no idea when we would see Scotland, the ship was already a week overdue. Murtagh was gravely ill and I feared takin his last breath as we heard the crewman yell land. He made a miraculous recovery after yer mam came out of the stone.”

Jamie wrinkled his brow and stared at his folded hands. “It was a miraculous recovery Murtagh and I never thought about it until now. Suppose ye explain it to us.”

“Ye wilna like my explanation laddie but here’s the truth of it. My last visit to the witch she tricked me, and I paid her to tell me how the lasses’ journey through the stones would go. She agreed and said ye would lose yer mind and die of insanity if I told ye how it would end. She said two hearts will enter the stones but only one would come out and she was mum about which one of them survive. Forgive me lad, I was so scared but couldn’t tell ye. It made me sick and I was tortured with worry. When the lass came out of the stone my misery stopped instantly.”

The silence was deafening and I struggled with Murtagh’s truth, remembering how mean he was to me on the ship and how close he was to death the last day I saw him.

“Murtagh, it was worry, about me and the baby that caused your temper and sickness!” I stood up and rushed to hug and kiss his cheek, leaving his face wet from my tears. I could see Jamie nod to him in understanding. It was a very heavy moment and we all pushed our glasses toward the bottle of whisky and Jamie poured.

Faith held her hand up, “why did you go to France, and where did you disappear to the last night.”

I explained how I would wake up in Jamie’s woods every night and we met and fell in love. We learned I could walk through the stones at Craig Ne Dunn on the summer solstice and stay in Jamie’s century forever, but I needed someone to come from the other side to balance the centuries. That person was Master Raymond who owned an apothecary shop in France. That’s why we went to France and he agreed to be my trade, but his heart stopped in passage. Joe can tell you more.”

We continued in a round-robin fashion, telling her this remarkable story. Glavia told her how she came to Lallybroch for a job and the very first day I went into labor and she delivered Faith with Misses Crook. Well, Glavia likes to talk so there were plenty of details, like looking between my legs and seeing the baby head and Jamie refusing to leave the room. Then she explained the man who tried to rape her during a robbery.

“I was screaming and so scared but your mam came behind and hit him on the head with a pan, and then tied him up until yer da came. I tried to hit his head again because he scared me so bad but yer da wouldn’t let me.”

I had forgotten about that horrible incident and the way Glavia explained trying to hit the man with Jamie chasing the pan to grab it away from her had us in stitches. A bit of comic relief made us all feel better and the whisky was poured again. I wished we could stop there but I knew the rest had to come out.

Brian walked into the kitchen around this time and although we were laughing, he could feel something big was in process. He pulled a chair next to his father and remained silent while every adult he knew and trusted told a story that shocked him.

I explained how Jamie was going to get us on a ship to the new world before the uprising but was kidnapped and press-ganged into service for the Jacobites. I told her about the blue stone and Jamie destroying it by throwing it into the gorge. How we fled the house for the cave, my final trip to the gorge in a rainstorm, and finding the blue stones in time to save them all from execution by the red coats. I was sobbing so Glavia took over describing a tremendous trip we went on clinging to each other and landing at Lallybroch two-hundred and fifty years in the future.

Brian sat up in his chair and Jamie put his hand on his arm to steady him. He needed to hear this. Murtagh took over describing a fantastical world with objects made of metal that took people across land at high speeds, warm water that poured out of the wall like rain to wash in, boxes that stayed cold inside so food didn’t spoil, and lights were bright without lamp oil or fire, instantly whenever you wanted to light a room.

“And no corsets or bum rolls, that’s right, women wore pants and sometimes dresses that were so comfortable. You put dirty clothes in a metal box and they came out clean and you didn’t do nothing! You could watch a play any time of day from a box in the parlor or a lady that told you to exercise, ya, that’s what Baritone and Misses Crook watched while they jumped up and down.”

“Faith, all of this is true, and we can stop here if you have heard enough.”

“How did you and Baritone come to Lallybroch, Joe?”

“Your mother is my best friend and the only family I have. She gave me Lallybroch and four million dollars, then she left and I couldn’t cope.” He looked at me and my eyes were starting to sting. “I knew she would never be back but decided to use some of her money to modernize the house and I put a cell phone in the kitchen just in case. I had a dedicated tune for that number and when I heard it ring, I almost passed out. It was…”

Faith stopped him mid-sentence with her hand up, “what is a cell phone?” She looked at me, “how did you come to own Lallybroch and where did four million dollars come from?”

The talking continued, the whisky flowed, and before I knew it Glavia was starting the evening meal. Fortunately, I was not scheduled for animal duty today so I hadn’t missed any obligations on the Ridge. It was eight o’clock when we all stopped talking. I was feeling numb from reliving so many events and Jamie was getting more insistent with is hand under the table. I suggested we rest and start again tomorrow if there were still questions. Brian went home, and Joe was in his room reading. Jamie made short work of turning down the lamps and banking the fire, then he pulled me upstairs.

He went back down for a basin of warm water and soap and held my hands when I reached for the cloth. He looked at my face for a long minute.

“I take this beautiful face and this loving heart with me when I go away, and they keep me company and calm my loneliness. It doesna compare to seein and touchin ye in the flesh. I’ve missed ye lass.”

He pulled my laces slowly, and then my skirts, and then my shift. He lathered the rag with my rose soap before smoothing it onto my skin. The warm water was delightful as were his kisses on my neck during the process. To be honest, it felt like months since I had seen him, rather than a week. I touched his face and he picked me up and laid me on our bed before pulling his clothes off. He smothered the wick of our lamp, so it was just the flames of the fire throwing shadows on our skin. He kissed his invitation and I accepted.

We made love slowly and Jamie stopped twice and just looked at me before kissing my arousal up again. He wanted to celebrate our love tonight and we made it last with dozens of I love you’s. I knew in my bones there was a truth lurking, like a black cloud to threaten all that I loved. I can wait until tomorrow to hear it because the rest of the night is for Jamie and me.

[secretwhumplair]

Hangover

1,289 words | Original work

Prompt | Headache - @badthingshappenbingo​​

Content | Slavery, starvation, name-calling, gagging, freezing, threatening, implied: sleep deprivation, mention of: beating, whipping, punishment

Notes | If Niveus can’t have a good day, neither can anyone else, least of all his personal slave who is not yet called Tern.

But! I have! A bingo!

Yesterday there had been a feast.

Not for the slave, of course, he was still as hungry as ever, but for the Master. He had eaten a lot and drank too much, and that never bode well.

The slave had slept lightly enough on the cold, hard floor next to the bed to hear the Master toss and turn in fitful sleep. He was used to getting little sleep, of course, but the Master was not.

It was not going to be a good day.

When the slave woke properly before dawn, he dragged his stiff limbs upright as quietly as he could, even breathing quietly, willing his heart to beat quietly for fear of disturbing the Master. He did his best to ignore the million aches in his body from being pushed slapped hit whipped kicked punished for his failures so often, and entertaining the Master’s moods inbetween. He looked upon the sleeping figure on the bed, now lying still, wrapped in cozy blankets the slave could hardly dream of having.

Sometimes the slave wished he would never wake. He never wished bad things, not even - not on the Master. Maybe he should. Maybe it would be just for the Master to suffer, at least a little, but the slave never wished bad things. He couldn’t bring himself to it. It was the only choice he had left to himself.

But sometimes he wished the Master would never wake.

None of these thoughts were going to make the day easier, though, so the slave quickly slipped out of the room, holding his breath as he moved the door without a sound, the cold stone floor gnawing away what feeling he had left in his barely socked feet.

He followed the familiar route down to the kitchen. Not a lot of the castle’s denizens were up yet, just a few guards and other slaves, none of whom he crossed paths with on his way.

The smell from the kitchen reached him from a staircase away: freshly baked bread, roast bacon, eggs, porridge, layered on top of whatever other food was processed there day by day. Going to fetch the Master’s breakfast and hot water for the washstand was an ordeal every day. He was always hungry, and none of the delicacies were for him, their scent and sight only making the ache in his stomach more pronounced. Even if the cook had a good day and was inclinded to throw him some scraps, he knew all too well he was not allowed any food not allotted to him by the Master himself.

If he was lucky, he would have a few bites of leftover bread from his Master’s breakfast, but given the state of things, today was not going to be a lucky day.

The silver tablet, laden with food and drink, was already waiting for him by the side of the kitchen door, and he gently picked it up without the kitchen staff sparing him more than a glance.

The way back up was much slower, as always. His arms were already tired when he reached the Master’s bedroom again. He got tired so quickly. Useless, the Master’s voice hissed in his head, and maybe he was right. At least this time he had managed not to spill anything, and he allowed himself a silent sigh of relief as he quietly placed the tablet on the bedside table.

The Master was still sleeping, but had shifted positions again, curled up on his side like he sometimes did when he had nightmares. The slave froze for a moment, anxiously watching for the tell-tale twitching or unconcious murmuring, but at least they were absent - things would be bad enough today without bad dreams to sour the Master’s mood further.

The jug of water was still steaming hot when the slave carried it over to the washstand - it needed to be, or the cold of the North would cool it out too fast before the Master got to use it. It didn’t make the slave’s task easier, the heat ironically close to burning his hands while the rest of his body was freezing.

Finally, he stoked the fire that was almost out after the night. This was his favourite part, the only time he got close to the warming flames without a price or punishment.

It was also the time when the Master habitually woke up.

He remained at the fireplace, trembling hands pushing a last log in, when he heard a groan from the bed. It might have been pitiful.

“Get away from the fire, Swine.”

The slave obeyed, movements stiff with terror, and came to kneel next to the Master for him to do with as he pleased, eyes cast down respectfully. His knees were bruised. His heart was in his throat.

The Master’s hands came up, but he only held his own head. “By the gods…” Then, “Look at me.”

When the slave looked up, the Master was looking him squarely in the face, a glint in his eyes that the slave knew all too well.

“I don’t want to hear a single sound from you today.” A sinister smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll make it easy for you. Open your mouth.”

The slave obeyed without a thought. He knew too well what would happen if he didn’t, if he even hesitated. It was bad enough when he did his best. It was worse when he didn’t.

The Master shoved his napkin into the slave’s mouth, crumpling the fabric as he went until a ball of the firm fabric was lodged securely between his jaws, shoved so deep he had to breathe deeply to keep his nausea at bay.

“There,” the Master said, wincing as he heard his own voice. He took a moment to catch himself, then shoved the slave back. “Don’t think you can enjoy the state I’m in, you useless little shit.”

The slave curled himself up so as not to hit his head on the floor, but didn’t dare catch himself otherwise. The floor smashed into his aching back, and he was glad for the gag to swallow a soft whimper - he didn’t want to imagine what the Master would do with him if he disregarded his express wish for silence. He got back up into his position, ready to endure whatever else the Master pleased to do with him.

The Master was staring down at the tablet, looking quite a little pale, before he looked back to the slave. He managed a smirk, despite his obvious sickness. “Too bad I can’t feed you like this. I don’t want any of this, take it back to the kitchen.” He shoved the tablet off the bed, sending the silver tableware clattering to the floor, and flinching at the sound.

The slave could only nod, and hope it was respectful enough. It apparently was, but maybe only because the Master was too ill to pay him any more mind; he let himself sink back into his cushions, covering his face with his hands, groaning again.

The slave picked up the silverware as quietly as he could; he’d have to clean up the mess later, under the watchful eyes of the Master, since he didn’t seem inclined to leave the bed, and he would spot any little mistake, the slave knew. He tried to swallow his fear down, keep it at bay, but it was difficult around the gag.

When he made to leave the room, the voice of the Master floated after him. “And that napkin stays where it is, Swine, or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

That was one of his favourite threats.

The slave never doubted it.

He knew.

#whump #slavery #starvation #headache #badthingshappenbingo #my writing #niveus #tern

[no6secretsanta]

Bittersweet Awakening

TO: @happykawaiicinnamonroll FROM: @glorifiedscapegoat

Happy Holidays and an amazing New Year to you, KawaiiCinnamonroll! Here’s some post-reunion fluff for your Secret Santa gift. In the spirit of the New Year, having a nice moment between Nezumi and Shion, in which Shion is being a bit of a dumb-ass and Nezumi takes care of him, seemed appropriate.

I hope you enjoy it! <3

***

Nezumi woke to the smell of coffee beans.

He stretched out his spine with a satisfied groan. In his sleep, he’d managed to curl himself into a tight ball, long limbs wrapped around his pillow and clutching it to his chest. He unearthed his face from the plush cushion―pulling himself from the aroma of drowsy lavender fabric softener―and looked over at his sleeping companion.

Shion’s side of the bed was empty.

Nezumi bolted upright.

Panic lanced through the synapses in his brain, tension jolting through his muscles until every inch of him ached. His eyes picked through the darkness of their shared bedroom, searching the dresser tucked in the corner, the slotted solar shades revealing the still-dark morning sky, and the bedroom door left ajar.

Yellow light spilled in through the gap in the door frame, and Nezumi’s shoulders relaxed.

He dragged a hand over his face and then pushed his bangs aside. His hair was tangled, and Nezumi worked a few of them out with his fingers, wincing when he encountered a knot.

Shion’s awake. He’s here. Nezumi carded his fingers through his hair until there were no more gnarls. The primal terror spiking through his veins cooled until Nezumi felt weightless.

Four years had passed since the day Nezumi had almost lost Shion, four years since Nezumi had breezed back into Shion’s life, for good this time. Nezumi’s gut-reaction to waking without Shion at his side was anxiety and terror, but it was a bit better each time. One step at a time. We’ll get there. Someday.

Nezumi’s brow furrowed. It was strange that Shion climbing into bed hadn’t woken him. Nezumi had gone to bed around ten o’clock, leaving Shion to work on his proposal for the committee. Shion had been agonizing about it most of the day, and Nezumi had opted to give him some space to work.

Nezumi was a notoriously light sleeper. The slightest shifts on the mattress were usually enough to jar him awake. He was getting used to having Shion sleeping at his side again―no longer at his back, but in his arms, limbs tangled together in a heap.

But I didn’t wake up this time. Nezumi gnawed on his lower lip. Weird.

And then his eyes flickered to the nightstand.

The digital clock announced 03:14 AM in neon green numbers.

Nezumi’s brows shot up.

He scrambled out of bed, tossing the comforter aside. The sheets caught around his ankles, and Nezumi nearly went sprawling to the ground. He caught himself with a sharp curse and kicked the sheets onto the floor.

The cool Autumn air sent prickles across the bare skin of his legs and arms. Nezumi wore a dark gray tee shirt and boxer shorts to bed, needing no other warmth than the thick blankets and Shion pinned against him.

He grabbed the thin black robe hanging off the back of the door―a welcome-back gift from Karan―and threw it on. The hem brushed his ankles as he clutched it around his middle and bustled out into the kitchen.

Nezumi found Shion in the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards. The concern welling in the pit of his stomach like a fat serpent steadily began to uncoil.

Shion was dressed in the white button-down and slacks he’d been wearing when Nezumi went off to bed. His hair was wild, sticking up in all directions like a brilliant star. He had his back to Nezumi, his long fingers nudging aside various mugs in the cupboard. He moved quickly, a man on a mission.

Nezumi stepped into the kitchen. He pressed his weight on the squeaky floorboard―the same one he’d been irritated by on those mornings after a particularly terrible rehearsal―to announce his presence.

Shion’s shoulders shot to his ears. His hands stilled.

“You’re still awake?” Nezumi asked.

Shion looked over his shoulder. His glassy red eyes settled on Nezumi’s face, and after a few moments, comprehension flitted across his features. “Oh. Nezumi.” He lowered his arms from the cupboard, leaving the two doors open, and turned around. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“It’s three in the morning,” Nezumi said, leaving the question unanswered in the air between them. “Why are you still up?”

Shion lowered his gaze. His eyelashes dusted his cheekbones like a thick frost. He was beautiful, otherworldly in a way that made Nezumi weak-kneed every time he saw him. Even after all these years, Nezumi’s heart still skipped a beat at the thought of the young man standing before him. Even when said young man picked at Nezumi’s nerves.

“I have to finish my proposal,” Shion explained.

“Your meeting’s on Tuesday.”

“And I’m behind.” Shion turned back to the cupboard and reached inside. “I need to finish it.”

Nezumi’s eyes shifted to the coffee pot. A gentle vapor of steam drifted from the boxy black container, the eight-cup pot filled halfway with the dark, steaming liquid. The aroma of light-roast coffee beans danced beneath Nezumi’s nose. It would have been a welcomed scent at a reasonable hour.

“And so you’re brewing coffee?”

“More coffee,” Shion corrected. “This is my second pot.”

“That’s healthy.” Nezumi strode across the kitchen and yanked one of the chairs back from the little table. Its wooden legs screeched across the tile. Nezumi flopped into the chair. “You look exhausted. You sure you want to keep working?”

“I have to, Nezumi.” Shion found the mug he wanted and set it on the counter. He closed the cupboards and hurried to the fridge.

“Why didn’t you reuse your cup?” Nezumi asked.

“What?”

“Your cup,” Nezumi repeated, as if he were speaking to a child. “If this is your second pot, then you must have had another cup. Why not just reuse it?”

“Because it was―” Shion paused, and Nezumi could see the gears working in his head. Shion looked at the sink, where his previous mug must have resided. “Huh.” He pressed his lips into a thin, calculating line. “I… I don’t know.”

Nezumi exhaled through his nose. “Shion.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Shion interjected.

“Then enlighten me.”

“You’re going to say I should come to bed.”

“Give the man a prize, ladies and gentlemen.”

“I have to finish it, Nezumi.” Shion opened the fridge, took the creamer, and poured some into his mug. It was the pretty white one Nezumi had gotten for him a month ago; a watercolor image of a purple flower, not technically an aster but close enough, spread across the bottom of the mug, the green leaves twisting up the handle.

Despite the frustration prickling through him, Nezumi felt a small sliver of warmth at the sight of the mug. It had been a gift to Shion. A gift from him. Nezumi had never given anyone a gift before. It had seemed like such a small, pathetic thing at the time. And yet the moment he’d given it to Shion, those bright crimson eyes had lit up as if someone had set a fire in Shion’s core. Those lips had drawn back in a wide smile, and Shion had thrown his arms around Nezumi. “I love it! Thank you!”

It was amazing, Nezumi thought―how something so small could ground him. We’ve come so far, haven’t we? So much had changed in four years. Like tightly-coiled bugs in a garden, Shion and Nezumi had finally, finally, finally bloomed, their petals brushing against each other and their stems intertwining.

“We’re discussing the new proposal for the West District,” Shion went on. He placed the cream back in the fridge.

After Nezumi left, West Block was evacuated, the citizens ushered into the remains of No.6 with Shion taking on the role of ambassador. The Manhunt had drastically lowered the number of West Block’s citizens, and Shion’s primary focus became finding suitable housing for them. The birth of the Committee―compiled of people from West Block, Kronos, and Lost Town―opened new possibilities for plans regarding the destroyed quarters.

“Some of the Committee members want to turn it into a junkyard,” Shion went on. “Most of the buildings are ruined, and even though we’ve removed all the bodies…”

And given them proper burials, Nezumi thought. Shion had personally led the search to find the bodies buried beneath the rubble. Inukashi’s hounds had lent a hand, their reluctant owner offering their services as a favor to Shion. Shion had also found jobs for the displaced Disposers, tasking them with transferring the corpses safely and respectfully from the destruction and to a patch of land just outside the up-heaved city.

Most of the Disposers had become the Clean-Up Committee, paid a livable wage by the city for their services. Nezumi had been surprised to find so many of the Disposers he recognized trudging through the remnants of No.6 as law-abiding citizens who prided themselves on their work rather than the thugs West Block had feared.

“It’s still dangerous to keep all that rubble just laying around,” Shion said, jolting Nezumi from his reminiscing. “What if kids play there? The wall is gone, and children are curious by nature. Not to mention how hazardous it is for the environment. If we removed it, put the scrap wood to good use and salvaged the metal, we could expand the living quarters and use that land to farm. That would create job opportunities, as well as save money on imported goods.

“We could grow most of our own crops, and once we’ve managed to create a sustainable system, we can work on exporting some of our goods and bringing some money back into the city! That way we can actually pay our workers and make sure people can survive.”

Nezumi rested his head on his hands and listened. He didn’t understand the politics of the Committee as well as Shion did, but he admired the passion in Shion’s voice. That had always drawn Nezumi to Shion, he supposed. He was so dedicated to everything he set his focus on.

Shion was trying his best to make good on his promise to Elyurias, and Nezumi as well, even though it was running him ragged.

“An admirable feat,” Nezumi allowed. “But I doubt the whole ship will sink if you take a few hours to rest.”

Something flickered across Shion’s face that might have been acceptance―and then the coffee pot chimed.

“Coffee’s done,” Shion announced.

Nezumi’s shoulders dropped in defeat.

Shion picked up the pot. The dark liquid inside sloshed within. Shion’s fingers trembled on the handle as he navigated his way to his mug.

Nezumi changed his tactic. “Have you made any progress with it? When I went to bed, you were stuck on your introductory paragraph.”

Shion paused.

“Talking it out is one thing,” Nezumi went on, “but it’s translating it into political jargon that’s stressing you out, right?”

Shion shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s not that. It’s just…” He sighed. “I know what I want to say. But it’s just like… the longer I stare at the page, the less sense my thoughts make.” His red eyes lost focus as Shion stared down at the coffee pot in his hands. “Everything that comes to mind just doesn’t sound right.”

Nezumi felt a pang of sympathy dance through him. “Then maybe you need to take some time away from it.”

Shion gnawed on his lower lip, considering Nezumi’s suggestion. Nezumi played with the sleeve of the robe, the warmth of the kitchen seeping in through the thin fabric. It was too soon to turn the heat in their small, two-bedroom apartment on.

Shion poured some coffee into the mug, and Nezumi’s stomach dropped to his feet.

“You want any?” Shion asked.

“No,” Nezumi said with a dry smile. “I actually want to sleep.”

“Suit yourself.” Shion set the coffee pot back on the burner. He shuffled over to the table, set the mug down opposite Nezumi, and turned back to the counters. “Where’s the sugar?”

“Where it always is,” Nezumi said. As Shion meandered back toward the sink, Nezumi exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache forming. “Look, Shion. No one’s going to blame you if you take a break from it. You’ve been working on that thing all day. If you’re not thinking straight, it’s a universal sign that you need to get some sleep.”

“Found the sugar,” Shion piped up.

“You know,” Nezumi snapped, “for someone so intelligent, you can be amazingly dense.”

Shion sat down in the chair and muttered a retort.

“Didn’t catch that. Care to try again when you’re not sleep-deprived?”

Shion rolled his eyes. He tipped the small canister of sugar upside down and dumped half of it into his coffee.

Nezumi raised an eyebrow. Shion liked sugar in his coffee. Nezumi had lived with him long enough to know that. But Shion didn’t usually take that much sugar.

“You want any coffee with that?”

“Hush,” Shion said. “I need to finish this proposal, Nezumi. I need all the energy I can get.”

Shion held the mug in both hands and took a long gulp.

“Shion―,” Nezumi said.

Shion’s eyes widened. He slammed the cup onto the table and spat his mouthful of coffee back into it.

Nezumi reeled back. “What?”

Shion looked at the mug, then to the canister of sugar. Horror twisted into disbelief on his face. His scarlet eyes glistened and, to Nezumi’s utter confusion, filled with tears. Shion shoved his mug away from himself, folded his arms, and buried his face in the crook of his elbows.

“What’s wrong?” Nezumi snatched the canister of sugar up. He scanned the white label, the brand name scrawled in black and red letters, spelling out the words coarse salt rather than cane sugar.

Nezumi’s lips quirked at the corners. “Oh.”

“It’s salt,” Shion whined.

Nezumi bit back laughter as he stood and set the offending condiment back on the counter. He took Shion’s mug and dumped it into the sink.

“And that,” he said, “would be a sign from the Powers That Be that it’s time for bed.”

Shion’s voice was muffled as he said, “It’s not funny.”

It was pretty funny, but Nezumi would avoid saying so until Shion was in a better state of mind. Once Shion had calmed down, and slept an acceptable number of hours, Nezumi would tease him mercilessly.

For now, Nezumi stood behind Shion and rubbed comforting circles on his back.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Time for bed. You’re probably not making as much progress as you’d like, anyway.”

Shion grumbled.

“You have all day Monday,” Nezumi added. “You’re not going to be much help to anyone if you’re passed out on the table.”

His thumbs continued to rub shapes into Shion’s shoulder blades until Shion turned his face to the side and managed a shaky, “OK.”

Nezumi celebrated silently as he helped Shion up from the table. He clicked the coffee pot off, making a mental note to clean the bean dispenser and empty the pot when he woke up again. He placed his hands on Shion’s shoulders and guided him through the kitchen and into their shared bedroom.

“Change into your pajamas,” Nezumi instructed.

Shion eased through the darkness, toward the dresser. Nezumi kept the door open, allowing the kitchen light to illuminate the room just enough for Shion to find his way. Shion knew the bedroom like the back of his hand―but Nezumi couldn’t count on Shion’s sleep-deprived mind to remember where he kept his boxers if he couldn’t even tell salt from sugar.

Shion dropped his button-down and slacks besides the hamper. Close enough, Nezumi thought. Shion dug through the top drawer, found a black tee-shirt, and pulled it over his head. He fought with the hole before yanking it down.

Nezumi smirked. Hopefully, Shion hadn’t put it on backward. He supposed they’d find out in the morning.

“To bed with you,” Nezumi said. “It’s well past your bedtime.”

Shion’s retort barely made it past his lips. Shion slumped to the bed and flopped down on his stomach.

Nezumi shook his head. He flicked the kitchen light off, plunging the room into darkness. The faint light filtering in through the slats in the window allowed Nezumi a quick look at Shion. He’d curled into the side of the bed where Nezumi had woken up, instinctively drawn to the warmth.

Nezumi crawled onto the bed and lay beside Shion. He wrestled the blankets out from under Shion and tucked them around him.

“Comfortable?” Nezumi asked.

Shion didn’t answer.

Right to sleep, then. Nezumi couldn’t help but laugh. He eased down beside Shion, tucking their legs together. His arms slipped around Shion’s thin frame and pulled him against his chest. The neon green alarm clock announced 03:38 AM. Shion and Nezumi kept the alarm off on the weekends. Nezumi would likely doze for a few hours. If he was lucky, Shion would sleep well into the late morning. Nezumi didn’t mind spending a lazy day in bed. If it kept Shion asleep for more than a few minutes, it was worth it.

Nezumi pressed his nose into Shion’s soft, silver hair. He smelled like the geranium shampoo Karan had given them as a move-in gift. Shion worked it through his hair every other day, and Nezumi had begun to associate the scent with the beautiful young man tucked in his arms.

Nezumi exhaled, content. The warmth from Shion’s body radiated through him. Sleep began to tug at the corners of his mind. Nezumi rested his chin on Shion’s shoulder. He listened to the thump of their hearts, the echo reminding him that fate had granted them a chance to start over. A new beginning.

Nezumi had wandered the world to find himself―and his journey had brought him right back to Shion.

He pressed a long, lingering kiss to Shion’s shoulder. The deep breathing from his sleeping companion soothed him, erased the tension in his shoulders and chased away the nightmares. In the warmth of their shared bedroom, Nezumi closed his eyes, breathed the same air as the boy he loved, and fell asleep.

#glorifiedscapegoat #happykawaiicinnamonroll #no6 #no 6 #no.6 #no. 6 #submission

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch4

A03 link

 Gendry

Gendry had always hated King’s Landing. The crowds, which somehow managed to make the already near intolerable late summer heat even more unbearable. The smell, of the smoke from food stalls, of shit, both animal and human, made worse in the humidity, and the smell of just those animals and humans pressed into far too small a space.

And the noise, the noise was the worst. Hooves and wheels squeaking. Shouts from men and yells from children, and the thundering of their feet. Again, the noise that would emanate from a crowd forming as it stopped being made of people and started becoming a beast all its own. Noise so thick you could hardly hear yourself think, and at all hours of the night, making sleep a distant dream.

When he’d woken on his cot in the back of the forge, Gendry had been certain that he had died and this was one of the seven hells.

It had been enough to convince him, when he’d reached out and Arya wasn’t there. After all those years apart, he’d become accustomed to her presence, dependent on it, nearly instantly. He hadn’t believed all the stories about marriage rendering two into one, but here he was, feeling lost without her.

He remembered the first night after she killed the Night King. The single night where they thought they would get peace. He’d wanted to join in the celebration, but she’d slipped off by herself. She had never been one for glory.

He’d found her in one of Winterfell’s underground hot springs, trying to scrub the dirt and ash from her skin, while hissing in pain when the water touched her wounds.

He had tried to help her fix herself up, though his stitches were even clumsier than her own, a fact which she made perfectly sure to remind him of.

After, he had gotten up to leave and she’d reached and grabbed his hand.

“Stay with me?” Arya had asked him, her eyes searching.

Part of him hadn’t known how to respond. He hadn’t been shocked when he’d woken the night before with her already dressed and preparing for battle. He hadn’t really let his mind wander to what would become of the two of them after.

“Of course,” he had said, his tone casual. They had redressed and were leaving the spring then. He had merely supposed that she would want company joining the feast, or (perhaps foolishly) that she might want him to join her in her bed again.

Arya had looked at him then, differently than before. As if looking for understanding.

“No, I mean...for good.”

His heart ached when he recalled her face. When he recalled his own mind when he’d realized what she meant.

And then his days began and the ache only got more acute.

Then the pigeon had appeared. Arya’s younger brother had always been...inscrutable...but he understands the significance, that the boy had had a kind of affinity for birds. And at least, in that moment, he accepted that he wasn’t crazy. But he still was going to have to deal with his life as a fifteen year old apprentice again.

He could bow his head respectfully, and do his work as told, but his years had soured him. The fire in his gut tells him not to accept anyone who speaks down to him, who makes demands. It tells him that they can’t treat him like that just because they think they are the ones in charge.

Mott gives him shit for it, as he probably should. But his traitorous mouth still talks back. His work is good, better than it should be, or else Mott would have turned him out on the street.

That would be better, Gendry mused. If he got turned out, he could try and find his way north.

But in his cot at night, his mind wanders, and part of him can’t fight the feeling that even fleeing is a beautiful dream.

It’s a foggy, humid sort of day when it happens. He’d stopped to get a bowl for the mid-day meal. This particular shop was one of the usual, stuffed full of other laborers and the destitute trying to silence their empty stomachs.

He’s barely has a chance to scoop the good bits of meat from his bowl when he’s hears a voice.

“That’s him.”

He doesn’t even have time to turn his head before the blow comes. The side of his head explodes with pain and he feels the hot trickle of blood.

He tries to stand and turn, but falls to the ground when he’s struck by another blow.

He manages to catch a glimpse, finally. The man’s thin, ratlike face reveals him. He can’t remember the name, Cassaway or Cossway, something like that. Not nobility, but a merchant of some note. He had wanted a proper pair of gauntlets made.

He probably shouldn’t have made the crack he did, about who he was going to be fighting, some haggling crone. But the man’s face had rubbed him the wrong way, and his words even more so. It was bad enough, being called “boy” again. Being called it by a strutting arsehole who clearly thought quite a bit of himself was far worse still. The man had gotten in his face after it, and Gendry could still remember his sour breath.

Well he was clearly going to pay for that crack, Gendry thought as he feels the skin of back begin to smart from striking the edge of his fallen chair.

Cassaway or Cossway, or whatever the fuck his name is, brought friends apparently, because when Gendry tries to stagger to his feet someone else he doesn’t see tries to grab him. And so he bolts.

The dirt roads pound roughly against his feet. He doesn’t make it far before he’s sure he’s being followed. He doesn’t slow down, he keeps moving, though his head is beginning to pound from the wound.

There’s no where he could even go. It’s not like he has friends here. If he went back to the shop, they would just follow him there, and get Mott involved in this mess. He should have listened to his master’s words and remembered how to keep his tongue.

He’s run so far he’s nearly down by the docks. He pauses for just a moment, trying to catch his breath, before a hand grabs him roughly and drags him into an alleyway.

“Gods boy, I get in in the morning thinking I’m going to have to scour Flea Bottom to find you and you wander right in front of me!”.

Ser Davos may have been a handsome man before his years touched him, and right now he is the most beautiful creature Gendry has ever seen.

“Maybe it was a good day to piss someone off,” is all Gendry can respond.

Davos rolls his eyes, but his words are sympathetic.

“We all think we won’t get full of ourselves when we rise above our station, but it’s not easy to accept the way people treated you. I’m guessing even before this all happened it made you angry enough.”

He reaches out to shake Gendry’s hand firmly.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any belongings to retrieve?”

Gendry shakes his head.

“Then let’s get on my ship and get the Hell out of here.”

When they reach the docks, Gendry gazes up at the Black Bertha in awe.

“Not going to pretend,” he admits to Davos, “When I woke up I was fairly certain I had gone crazy. Still not sure we both haven’t.”

“If this is what crazy is like, “ Davos tells him with relish, “Then I will take it.”

They board the ship, and Davos introduces him to his crew, has someone hand him a line and show him the ropes. Gendry still has no sea legs, even on a ship as large as the Black Bertha. It takes all his energy not to lose his meal over the railings. But as King’s Landing begins to disappear on the horizon, Gendry feels his stomach begin to flutter again, this time in anticipation.

 Sansa

They were going to have to explain so much today.

Her stomach is completely unsettled all through breakfast. Her oatcakes feel like ash in her mouth. Even Mother notices, asking her if she feels ill.

“I’m fine.” she insists, “Just a bit out of sorts.”

“Perhaps you should sit out today’s lessons, take a rest.”

Sansa nods, but she has no intention of returning to her chambers.

She walks and finds Arya and Bran, who were sneaking back from the stables.

“What should we do while we wait?”

“We could just take Lady and sit in the yard.” Arya suggests.

Sansa shakes her head.

“We should find Father. We should give him a bit of a head’s up before this all comes down around him. And see if there’s anything important that might get put off by it.”

“Do we know where he is?”

And as one, they all look to Bran, who sighs deeply.

“One of these days I’m going to stop letting you make me do this in order to avoid having to walk.”

And with that complaint, his eyes turn white briefly.

“He’s in the training yard with Robb, Theon and Ser Rodrick.”

“Well,” Arya says, “At least we’ll get some entertainment before this all.”

They slip onto one of the walkways above, sitting with their feet over the edge. It’s on the far side, and they probably won’t be visible unless someone knew they were there. Bran sits sideways as to not dangle his cast.

Father is sparring with Robb. Robb was the family member that Sansa found she could look at the least now. Her joy at seeing Father and Mother again had overrode the lingering horror at their deaths.

Robb was different. Even if Sansa’s romantic heart hadn’t been so torn by his ill-advised marriage, the image Joffrey had put into her head of what had become of his body would have been stuck in her head from the get-go.

And down below them, Robb is at the peak she remembers. His hair is perfect, his stance solid. He follows directions, and doesn’t gloat. There’s a hint of loneliness in his eyes, probably that Jon isn’t here to spar with as he usually was. Robb had always treated Jon just as another brother. It will hurt them all beyond belief if they can’t do anything to save him, in a way that it won’t for Mother and Father.

In her sadness, Sansa turns her stare to Theon.

“What are we going to do about Theon?” She questions the others.

Bran laughs, a hard rough sort of laugh.

“It’s taking all my strength not to gather a basket of rocks and pelt him with them, even though I know that’s not fair.”

“Without Robb having to go to war he might never betray us,” Arya comments, “It almost seems cruel to admit I never really liked him even before. He was always such a lech, and he liked to mock me almost half as much as you did,” she says, pointing to Sansa.

“He always seemed to know he was a hostage,” is Sansa’s take on it, “And didn’t seem to realize we were really too young to understand.”

She studies the man a bit. He is just as cocky as she remembers.

“I know the man he became better than both of you. But I can’t, I won’t ask anyone to go through what the two of us did just to become a better person.”

The other two nod grimly in agreement.

The morning almost comes to an end, and the men break for the mid-day meal.

All three of them take a breath, and stand to try and catch their Father by himself. Arya helps Bran up and gives him his crutches. The metal scraping the wood makes them move slowly, but Robb has gone on ahead to the Great Hall, and Ned is bringing up the rear when the three children ambush him.

 Ned

“Arya, you should still be Septa Mordane,” he scolds, then turns his eye to Sansa, “It’s good to see you feeling better, daughter.”

The three of them continue to look at him warily, and Ned feels a cold sensation begin to creep down the back of his neck.

Finally, Sansa breaks the silence. Arya and Bran had both made it clear that she could speak for all of them if need be and they wouldn’t object, but in her younger body she feels the confidence she had earned in her years slipping away.

“Do-are you planning on doing anything important after the meal Father?”

To say Ned looks surprised it an understatement.

“I was going to go over some of the planned repairs in Winter Town before winter proper begins,” he states, he doesn’t want them to move on, he wants them to speak their due, to tell him what’s been going on. “But it’s nothing I can’t put off.”

Sansa takes a deep breath.

“You’ve...probably noticed we haven’t been exactly acting like ourselves the last few weeks. “

The cold feeling spreads to the rest of Ned’s body. It is true, but he had used all that he could to try and ignore the changes in his children. To pretend he was simply seeing something where there was nothing. And some of the changes, like the newfound friendship between Sansa and Arya, had been greatly appreciated, especially by Catelyn.

“Well, there is an explanation, but it’s not an easy one, or one we thought you would easily believe.” Sansa’s voice is wavering, but it has an unexpected power behind it. “That’s why we held off telling you, we didn’t want you to think all three of us had somehow been struck mad.”

“Why now then?”

Bran steps in this time.

“Old friends are coming to Winterfell. They should arrive sometime today, and two of them can verify our story, so we thought it would be easier to wait until they arrived. But for now, lets just go eat.”

Ned lacks an appetite after that conversation. His mind is running a mile a minute, trying to piece what his children had told him.

To their credit, Arya, Sansa and Bran seem as unsteady as he feels. Arya is the only one who seems to be able to eat, scarfing down her stew like a little wolf. Bran, he notes, is especially pale and quiet. Sansa is eating little, and her face keeps going through a cycle, of excited girl to nervous wreck.

He spares a glance at his wife beside him, one of the only at this meal who seems her normal self.

He’s just managed to barely clear his plate when a guard enters the Great Hall.

“My Lord, my Lady,” he starts, “There are unannounced visitors at the East Gate,” the man spares a glance at Bran, “And one of your children’s beasts is with them.”

Bran laughs quietly, “Oh, that’s where Summer’s been all day.” The laugh sounds almost empty, and the boy is just as white as he has been all meal.

“Are our visitors familiar?” Ned ask the guard, who nods.

“Lord Howland Reed, and his children.”

Old friends, he remembered Bran had said. That was true, but none of his children had ever met anyone from House Reed. He himself had not seen his old friend’s children since they were themselves only toddling. His wife had sat the trip out, keeping herself busy at Winterfell with Robb.

“Well,” Cat starts, giving Ned a look that asks ‘did you know anything about this?’ without being accusatory, “Let’s get this all cleared out and welcome them properly.”

The servants clear the table, and move the furniture to its usual position. Ned has taken his place on the dais, with his children at his side. Cat and Robb sit to his right, the younger three to his left, Sansa at his side, and Bran on the end so he can leave his cast and crutches stuck out to the side. Bran is somehow even paler than he’s been, but Arya reaches an arm out to steady him.

He swears he hears her whisper, “Don’t you dare faint, we need you.”

Sansa is sitting tall at his side. Her shoulders are straight, but not stiff, and her face is carefully serene. It looks like she was born for this, and Ned’s not sure where it came from.

When the three figures enter, Ned tries to get a look at them.

Howland Reed looks much as Ned remembers him. Short, and sandy-haired, with the years having added more lines to his face. He also looks gravely serious. His son by his side, looks much his double, though thinner and paler. Unlike his father, Jojen Reed looks completely befuddled as to why he’s here.

Ned turns his eye to Meera. He’s remembered her a bit better, a child of four when he’d seen her last. Now she was at most fifteen, a small fifteen at that. She’s dressed boyishly, carrying her spear on her back. And her face….

Her face is the image of the flashes he’s seen on his own daughter’s faces the last few weeks. She looks as though she has seen the end of the world.

Despite his unease, Ned stands to greet them.

“It’s good to see you again, my family and I welcome you to Winterfell.”

And then something utterly bizarre happens. Lord Reed turns his attention from Ned to Sansa.

“I take it we’re starting from the beginning then, my Lady?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ned sees his eldest daughter smile wryly.

“I’m afraid we didn’t feel we could spring this on people just ourselves, or we would be dismissed. It seemed prudent to wait for some of our other companions to back up our story, and who could help us provide proof.”

“Any word from the others who were with us?”

Bran speaks up,

“Both are in King’s Landing as of this morning. They should be traveling soon.”

His voice is thin, and careful, Ned notes. And with a start, he realizes Meera is staring at his son, looking as though she might be ill. And Bran, for his part, will not meet her eye.

Sansa’s voice cuts through again, and she gestures to one of the servants.

“Can you bring our guests chairs? This might take a while.”

The girl, Ellyn is her name, Ned believes, obeys. It’s an easy request, but Ned is still knocked off center.

The three of them sit, and Sansa speaks up again.

“Sorry for this, Mother and Father, but this is a very long story, and I fear it might take a while.”

Further down the table, Ned hears Arya whisper,

“Why do I get the feeling she had that memorized?”

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #gendrya #breera #fic

[bananashemmo]

The Fight (Part 3)

Pairing: Y/N/Ashton

Rating: All

Request: Yes

Words: 2.000+

Summary: It’s not often that Ashton and Y/N fight but when Ash decides to go clubbing for another night in a row Y/N calls him out. But things get twisted as Ashton has to go to the stage minutes before and they are pulled apart right in the middle of the argument.

The burning feeling of tequila running down your throat made a grimace cut to your face. You were trying your really best, you were, but the unfamiliar feeling made your eyes almost burst into tears.

How did someone enjoy the feeling? How could someone see this as an escape to get a better life? The only thing you could feel was the pain like cuts in your throat.

You looked confused for a minute just starring out in the air. How had this turned into a good idea and how the hell did you end up here?

Your face was buried into the palm of your hand and you were gazing without blinking at the bartender standing in front of you.

Latina, a little younger but fresh like the cold air outside. He didn’t seem like minding that you were hovering over the bar table like any other alcoholic could do on a usual Friday Night. It was like he was used to it and you weren’t surprised.

Whatever this place was, you didn’t understand that the boys were so desperate to visit it.

Already at the beginning with the 20$ pay to get inside and being mistaken for a minor you were getting frustrated. The bodyguard outside must have felt a bit embarrassed when you almost forced the driver’s license in his face.

It wasn’t the first time you had been mistaken for being younger and at any other night, you would have shown a bit of sympathy but not tonight.

Just the air brushing past your face could get on your nerves.

“This one’s good for hangovers.” The bartender commented, catching your attention.

His finger was pointing down at a red drink that pretty much looked like a Bloody Mary. You glanced down with furrowed eyebrows and adverted your eyes back to his.

“Do I look like I’m in a full on hangover?” You asked, reaching your hand up to touch your forehead. You were sweating but still feeling cold at the same time.

You didn’t feel sick but you could imagine how you looked from far apart. Many words could you describe but none of them were hungover.

“Just assuming.” He hummed, and cleaned off the Royal Beer glass in his hand, “I’m not saying you look horrible I’m just saying that if you look for something to really clear out your problems that’s the one.”

You quivered your eyebrow, thinking, You weren’t sure if he was just being polite to cure whatever your feeling because he was concerned or if he just wanted to sell you one of the most expensive drinks on the card menu.

“I think I’ll pass.” You pushed the empty glass of tequila forward and grabbed your other drink instead. Something simple, a light cider, and definitely not something that would kill your inner organs like that bloody mary.

“Whatever you choose.” He said with a wink and serviced another customer sitting at the other end of the table.

You leaned your head away from the table and took a look around the room.

People were dancing like crazy you didn’t understand where they got the energy from. When you passed eleven at night you just knew it wouldn’t be without a book in your hands and your reading glasses almost falling off your nose.

Some were also sitting down at the paid tables where you could order drinks in large bowls with ice cubs. You had always admired how they found it funny to sit there at the early mornings drinking your brain out.

It wasn’t that you were supposed to be an angel because you weren’t. You had your moments where you were off track as well but it was mostly when you were younger.

You had learned to control your drunk moments and only drink respectfully. You didn’t want to drown your body like any other girl at this club did.

Maybe it was the reason why the boys wanted to show up. Things had no strings and everybody could act like they wanted to without worrying about problems and much else.

You looked back at the bartender who was talking to the old customer next to you.

He seemed to enjoy his job. Found it funny to be the only sober at the club, but still didn’t have to worry about all the problems he had. He could talk to people all he wanted without worrying saying something wrong.

Because they wouldn’t remember it the next day.

Maybe that Bloody Mary was a great idea. You needed something to flush your thoughts away because sometimes, the depression hit.

You didn’t want to think about. It made your stomach ache with pain and your head turn dizzy. More than it already was doing because of the alcohol and you didn’t like it. You hated it.

You knew it was wrong to leave and you knew no matter what you always promised each other even if you could get pissed off and angry. You wouldn’t just leave like that.

But the way he had been so brutal made you want to smack your head against the table. You had done nothing to deserve the way he was treating you, and that was the reason why you wanted to punish him.

“You know, I’d like that Bloody Mary. Strong, please.” You begged the last part and looked at the bartender who gave you a sympathetic smile.

“On me.”

You looked to your right in confusion when a male in a white dress shirt showed up. He had black hair that was pulled into a quiff and a light stubble. Apart from that he still had a younger face.

“Oh really?” You commented, but not as loud as you had expected and he waved his credit card in the air.

You didn’t even get the chance to say no, you were too stunned because it had been a while since someone had shown up like this. You were usually with the boys which meant no other boy would show up all of the sudden.

“My name is Anthony.” He reached his hand forward, introducing.

“Y/N.” You smiled back, deciding just to shake his hand and moved just a bit to the left.

Not because you wanted to invite him to sit down but because he was a little too close for your liking.

“A Bloody Mary? A sad face? Please, enlighten me. Who broke your heart?”

You looked at him confused. Did you look like a starter pack for singles?

“Nobody did.” You shook your head, not wanting to share your privacy.

“Oh come on.” Anthony mentioned, leaning forward to move a strand of hair away from your face. “I know a girl when I look at her.”

You quivered an eyebrow at him unconvinced. He was coming way out of the blue you hadn’t seen him not even on the dance floor. He was probably one of those who sat at the paid tables with a Dom Perignon.

“You’re sad about something a boy you liked said. He didn’t break your heart but he said something that hurt you very deeply and know you don’t know how to handle it.”

You didn’t know if he was comforting or creepy. You didn’t like the way he was smiling at you, yet you were too tired to even care if he was hitting on you. It was a lost coss at the beginning.

“You’re not sure if you’ll forgive him or not. I know it can be hard but please open up to me.”

“I’d prefer if she opened up to me instead, Gel-boy.” A tall frame came from Anthony’s behind and even though you felt a burning sensation in your stomach it was only by a quick second replaced with relief.

Anthony looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened when he noticed Cal and the others stand behind supporting Ashton’s back.

You almost wanted to roll your eyes because he had brought them along but you couldn’t help but feel just a little bit happy to see him.

“Now if you would excuse me... I’ve got a lady who’s got all the rights she has to yell at my face.”

You looked up at Ashton when he pushed past Anthony to get to you. His hand was inviting you to grab it and even though you were pissed you gave him hopeful eyes.

Pushing past the crowd you left Anthony alone with the rest of the boys and were followed by Ashton towards one of the public bathrooms. Luckily nobody was in sight so you were able to speak in privacy.

You didn’t want to yell at him, you didn’t want to scream. You could tell that he was having the same feeling and he slowly leaned you against the wall to press his forehead against yours.

“I said something that I can’t take back.” He laced your fingers and looked at you deeply into your eyes.

“.. And all I can think about is rewinding the clock to that moment just before ‘Stupid’ took over. I should never have said the words I said because it came out of anger and not how I’m feeling.”

You tried your best not to cry because imagining the words in your mind hurt.

“I know that it’s going to take a while before you forgive me and I know it takes a bigger heart to forgive than saying sorry. You’re my most precious thing in this world and not everyone can deal with the stuff we’re going through. It’s life living on constant stress being in this industry and you do it for me every single day. Take your time out just to make my life the easiest. I don’t think I can ever fully describe how much I love you for taking so much of your time to be with me here on this tour. I’m sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry of what I did. I wish I could erase it from our minds.”

He was whispering the last part while leaning his forehead against yours. Almost only brushing.

You could feel how he was shaking and how he was trying not to stumble over his words. He had been practicing the whole speech on his way to the club and you were surprised about his skills.

“How-, How did you find me?” You swallowed deeply and looked into his hazel eyes.

“I know my girl... Luckily it always brings me back to her.” He whispered the last part and traced some hair behind your ear.

You nodded your head by his words and sighed carefully.

“If you promise me. Really promise me that you won’t say something like that again... I'll forgive you.”

“Of course I’ll promise you that.” He started to pepper your face with kisses, waiting for the second he saw a small smile appear on your face.

“You know I love you so so much what’s hurting you is also hurting me.”

“I love you too.” You leaned into his touch and enjoyed the silence.

Completely blocking out the loud noises of bass coming from the disco area. You were just resting in his warm embrace enjoying the peaceful feeling of his heart beating against your ear.

“So do you want to go back and get a drink?” You asked carefully.

Ashton snorted like what you had said was a complete joke. You didn’t understand what he was hinting at but then he laced your fingers even tighter.

“Of course not. We’re going home to the hotel, find a movie on Netflix and then we’re going to couple the rest of the night.”

You didn’t say anything but the smile on your face told a million words.

Swinging an arm over your shoulder he held you close as you came outside to the cold streets, walking down holding each other for dear life.

#THE FINAL PART #5sos #5 seconds of summer #myt #2018 #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #5sos preference #5sos preferences #5sos sotry #5sos story #5sos smut #5sos fanfiction5 #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfictions #5sos blurb #5sos blurbs #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #luke hemmings #calum hood #michael clifford #ashton irwin

[datura-foxglove]

(Dazatsu Week Day 4) Proof of Survival

Prompt : Kintsugi

Rating : T Warnings : mentions of self-harm and child abuse, non-sexual intimacy.

Summary : Dazai and Atsushi shared their scars - their history - and accepted them, grateful that both had struggled for their survival.

Honestly, it was more of an accident than something they had planned.

Both Atsushi and Dazai never talked about their past. It was more obvious with how much skin hidden under Dazai’s bandages and how Atsushi never forgot to wear his cat hoodie when they went to a beach, swimming with it despite how much of a pain to wash the salt of the hoodie afterwards.

It had rained really heavily that day. Despite sharing an umbrella, they still got drenched from head to toes. Since Kyouka had went to the Tanizakis for a sleepover, the two of them quickly climbed the stairs and entered Atsushi’s dorm. Atsushi winced at how puddles of water started to form under them and he had to dash inside and grabbed towels for both of them. Dazai left behind his drenched coat near the door, helping Atsushi mopped up the puddles as best as he could while Atsushi prepared bath for both of them. Dazai forced him to take a bath first and Atsushi stayed in the bath tub just long enough for his body to warm up. With dry clothes and body no longer freezing cold, he got out of the bathroom and pushed Dazai to the bathroom.

While he waited, Atsushi gathered the wet clothes and put them on the basket to wash later. He heard the door to the bathroom opened gently and respectfully didn’t turn around. “The new bandages are on the table.” I won’t look wasn’t spoken, but he knew Dazai knew anyway. The sounds of rustling cloth from bandages and wet mop were the only sounds filling the silence.

Atsushi’s humble dorm didn’t have a door that separated the kitchen from the bedroom. So Atsushi made sure to keep his back to Dazai, respecting his privacy. He kept himself busy moping the trail of water left behind, but in his focus to keep his curiosity out of his mind, he didn’t pay attention to where he was walking.

When he felt his feet slipped due to the wet floor, Atsushi yelped. He braced himself for the fall, but instead of the cold and hard floor, his body fell into something sturdy and warm instead.

Atsushi blinked, his senses still disoriented that it took him a few moments to realize that Dazai had caught him. His face flushed, apologies ready on his lips as Atsushi tried to stand up straight again. However, when his hands gripped Dazai’s arm to steady himself, his eyes widened when instead of the familiar soft fabric of Dazai’s bandages, his hands touched skin instead.

Shocked, he couldn’t stop his eyes from looking to his hands. Even with Atsushi’s hand covering part of Dazai’s arm, Atsushi could still see countless scars littering the skin of the man he loved. He sucked in a sharp breath. In his haste to catch Atsushi, Dazai hadn’t finished wrapping his bandages. A roll of bandages was ditched on the floor, some of it already wrapped on Dazai’s upper arm.

With how close their bodies were, Atsushi could feel Dazai tensed when he realized where Atsushi was looking. The two of them froze in the middle of the kitchen, unable to muster the courage to speak. It would be easier to stand up and pretend he didn’t see anything. Their relationship was too new, too fragile for Atsushi to risk it by acknowledging Dazai’s scars.

Yet when Atsushi slowly raise his head to look at Dazai’s face, Atsushi found himself unable to do it. There was dread and the man looked like he was trying really hard to smile and joke like usual, but the smile wasn’t quite right. It was usually hard and almost impossible to see past Dazai’s masks, but for once the emotions hidden in the depth of Dazai’s chocolate eyes was an emotion that Atsushi knew very well.

Loneliness.

Atsushi took a shaky breath in, his nerves going wild in his stomach. But he couldn’t ignore Dazai’s loneliness, not when he knew how his heart ache on the days when his own scars ached and no one was there to comfort him. His scars were ugly and he didn’t want anyone to see that part of him… but at the same time he wanted someone to understand, to look at his scars yet loved him anyway.

So instead of taking his hand away from Dazai’s arm, Atsushi slowly caressed his thumb on the scars there. Dazai flinched, the emotions on his eyes going wild and he looked so unsure that Atsushi wanted to do nothing but hug him close. But right now Dazai was already overwhelmed enough, so he just kept his touch light and the grip on his arm gentle. The older man could snatch his arm away from Atsushi anytime and Atsushi wouldn’t push, but Dazai stayed still. It was more because Dazai didn’t know what to do rather than acceptance though, so Atsushi didn’t say anything and just keep caressing Dazai’s scars one by one. He followed the trails of scars, some so deep that his fingers trembled a bit as he caressed them.

It took a while before Dazai’s tension slowly melted away to resignation. He just stood there, letting Atsushi gently mapped the scars on his arm. His fingers trailed up until he met bandages. His eyes sought Dazai’s for permission, waiting patiently as Dazai stared at him back. It was faint, Dazai’s head barely moving for a nod. Gently and slowly, Atsushi’s hands unraveled the bandages, stopping whenever Dazai’s breath picked up and waiting for him to calm down before continuing.

It was a tremendously slow process, but Atsushi didn’t mind. Dazai’s trust was so precious and a gift that Atsushi didn’t deserve, so it wasn’t a test to his patience at all. Atsushi treat each and every uncovered scars reverently, like how one would treat a map of treasure.

Atsushi didn’t really know how it happened and when, but he found himself dragged (or was it him that dragged Dazai?) to the futon. The bandages on both of Dazai’s arms had completely unraveled, his shirt dropped beside them on the futon as Atsushi slowly worked his way to the bandages covering Dazai’s neck. Dazai was still silent, but he didn’t look so much like a frightened animal anymore. Dazai’s eyes were watching him closely, as if he was expecting disgust or repulsion from Atsushi. But even as he uncovered more and more scars hidden beneath Dazai’s bandages, Atsushi felt neither of those feelings. It was like seeing a new side or facts about the man who had saved his life. The man who had given him a home. The man who Atsushi loved more than anything in this world. Atsushi treated each scars like little facts about Dazai he had stored in his mind from observing him, like how he drank his coffee with one spoon of sugar but his tea with three spoon of sugar. How the man would sing those absurd suicide songs when he was waiting for something. How the man couldn’t keep his hands still for long.

To Atsushi’s surprise, he knew the reason for some of Dazai’s scars. The bullet wound on his chest from when he faced Dostoyevsky alone. The stab wound on his back from that time Dazai almost died. Some less deadly scars from the missions they went through together. Atsushi caressed those scars lovingly, the relief must be showing on his face because Dazai tilted his head and finally spoke.

“You aren’t disgusted.” Dazai chuckled bitterly, his laugh sounded like broken glass that hurt Atsushi more than any physical wound.

“I’m not.” He agreed, voice serious but he also let his love bled through his words. “These scars… are the proof of your survival, Dazai-san. How could I hate them?”

“Even scars that I inflict on myself?” Dazai asked, his voice barren of any emotion and his eyes looked so numb and empty.

Atsushi touched Dazai’s arms, which he guessed were the ones he had inflicted to himself. “Even these.” He smiled slightly, looking at Dazai’s empty eyes with his own filled with devotion. “This may sound arrogant, but I love them because even when you wanted to kill yourself, you still survive. That you live long enough to meet me at that river. That you live long enough for me to get to know you and love you.”

He felt Dazai’s thumb caressed his cheeks and blinked when he realized that he was crying. Atsushi laughed, even when he didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, it is arrogant of me to say that you live just for me.” Atsushi wiped away his tears. “But even if that isn’t true, you are still alive until now and your scars are proof of that, Dazai-san.”

Dazai smiled, small and almost unnoticeable, yet still there. “If only I live just to be with you. It will be easier, I think.”

Atsushi nodded, fingers returned to caress Dazai’s scars. “But because you are alive, we can meet each other. For me, it’s enough to be grateful. I’m happy with my life now because of that day we met, Dazai-san. You gave me a home, an opportunity, to became something more than just an orphan that was kicked out to the streets.”

“You are the one who picked yourself up and shaped your own future, Atsushi-kun.”

“Only because you are there by my side to offer me a hand whenever I fell.” Atsushi leaned his forehead to Dazai. They were close enough to kiss, but Atsushi felt content with their closeness as it was. “Thank you for being alive, Dazai-san.”

Dazai tensed, his eyes widened as he stared at Atsushi in silence for a long time. Atsushi watched as a smile curled on Dazai’s lips, weak but painfully genuine.

They stayed like that for a long time, sharing breath between them as they held each other wrists, their pulses beating together in harmony. Atsushi suddenly felt a weak tug at the bottom of his t-shirt, looking down to see Dazai had let go of his hand to cling at Atsushi’s shirt.

“May I?” Dazai whispered softly, eyes watching Atsushi’s reaction.

Atsushi’s body tensed a little, his heart hammering in his ribcage. His mouth felt dry and he knew now why Dazai was so silent and still when he unraveled those bandages. Atsushi nodded, although he couldn’t bring himself to lift his shirt. It had been so easy to reveal his scar to Lucy, because Lucy had known similar pain of being unwanted. It was harder to show it to Dazai, because he had longed for the man to love him. Even if he knew that Dazai would treat his scar like how Atsushi treated his, that stubborn fear and anxiety in the back of his mind froze his hands.

Just like how Atsushi caressed his scars, Dazai slipped his hands beneath Atsushi’s shirt. Atsushi wondered if Dazai could feel how hard his heart was beating, but Dazai didn’t comment on it. Inch by inch his skin was revealed. He didn’t have many scars, Byakko’s regeneration healed his wounds even when he didn’t know about the tiger inside him. But some scars never disappear, which Yosano had theorized linked with the trauma in his mind. The greater the trauma, the longer the scars stayed. The ugliest of Atsushi’s scars were the burn scar on the side of his chest and the scar from when his feet was punctured by nail.

Atsushi’s body jerked when Dazai’s fingers touched the burn scar. His hands gripped weakly at Dazai’s shoulders due to shaking. The fingers on his scar stilled, but never left. His lover waited until Atsushi’s labored breath slowed down and the trembling of his hands ceased. Atsushi almost wanted to laugh at how different the two of them had acted when the other inspected their scars.

“I-I’m okay.” Atsushi breathed, biting his lips as he tried his hardest to keep the memory of hot poker searing his skin out of his mind.

Dazai lifted Atsushi’s clothes further so he could see Atsushi’s scar clearly. His expression softened and his eyes followed the movement of his fingers as he caressed the scar just as gently as how Atsushi had been to his own scar.

Atsushi blinked. It… felt nice. After the initial dread and panic settled, it felt nice to feel Dazai’s fingers on his scar. At seeing the understanding in Dazai’s eyes and no disgust in them. To his confusion, Dazai leaned his head down and Atsushi squeaked in surprise when he felt Dazai’s lips on the reddened and rough skin. “Dazai-san!”

Dazai wrapped his arms around Atsushi’s waist and leaned his head on his shoulder. His boyfriend whispered so softly that it was mostly thanks to the silent room that Atsushi could hear them. “Thank you for being alive too, Atsushi-kun.”

Atsushi felt his scar warmed by the touch of Dazai’s fingertips, the tension on his body melted away. He gently guided Dazai’s hand up and kissed one of the larger and deeper scar there softly.

The rain continued on pouring heavily, but the two of them were oblivious to the gloomy weather. Something warm and bright trickled inside the cracks in their mind, body, and soul and filled them up. Outlining each scars with the beautiful memory of that moment, as both of their histories were shown and accepted.

#dazatsu week 2019 #dazatsu #fanfic #i'm late lol #I tried to write another story before this and already got to 3k words #but then I realized that it will be too long and scrapped that #and now my half asleep brain finally managed to write this #hooray for coffee #I use the prompt kintsugi but the prompt for day 6 scars can apply for this one too

[wwounu]

“Her eyes got all watery and started crying, so I went up to her and took her somewhere she can calm down… That idiot, she shouldn’t have come if she was going to be like that — It’s what she does and has to do, but I hated seeing her cry because of me.”

“Sounds intense.” You slurp on your straw. “It’s safe to say everything is a lot better considering how much you don’t shut up about her.”

Chan giggles and flushes at the reply, resting his cheeks on his scratched fists as he daydreams away about his lover.

“Hey, don’t go into dreamland, I’m still here y’know!”

You hit the male with your hand and the male salutes at you. “Of course ma’am.” He respectfully follows, looking down at his phone from the intense buzzing. You were quick to point out he looked cross, which you never see on regular occasions. Something must be up. He mumbles under his breath, “Gee, he’s so desperate…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Chan calmly replies in contrast to the quick movement with his head. “I just remembered… I left your notebook with my darling.”

“Alright Chan this is getting a bit too much. You need to stop stealing my notebook!”

Thank God, that worked. “She just wanted reference on how to structure her next draft! She’s not confident on that and you’re the person I can go to for that. Take it as a compliment Y/N, how stingy.”

“I guess I have to call her, I need it to write down the reasons why I hate Lee Chan!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever young lady. That means I’ll have to play all by myself, because you’re the one leaving me for my darling now.” Sassily, Chan pulls a face at you before his smirk becomes confident. “She’s that irresistible isn’t she—“

“Hey! Where are you? I need to ask you something because Chan isn’t being great help, as usual.” You cheerfully say while stuffing a tissue into the male’s mouth.

Chan’s girlfriend was at the zoo. You had no idea why, it seemed more like a date location rather than one to go alone, but as long as you would get your notebook back, you wouldn’t question it. Walking there, you immediately catch her standing in front of the bench, playing with her hands as she waits for you.

When the both of you meet, her laugh becomes careful. Of course it would be careful, her hands were empty.

“You cut off the call too early and I couldn’t tell you that I left it at the convenience store while talking to Jihoon.”

“So Jihoon has it.” Your tone drops; Great, more people are carelessly waltzing away with your notebook.

“Basically.”

“Well, I can take another trip to the store next time. It’s not that big of a deal, and now that I’ve left Chan, mind if I join you going to the zoo—“

The other shakes her hands violently, “No!” She chokes on her words and hits herself on the chest, followed by a tiny cough. “I’d love to, but you should find Jihoon. But we can go on a date another time! Next week?”

“Yeah sure.” You agree, remind yourself to make sure your plans are free. “I’ll be getting to the store now.”

“Jihoon isn’t on shift. I called him earlier on and he’s at the campus coffee shop.” He was at a further location? Chan probably set this all up, he wasn’t the type to kid when he tells someone to exercise. Chan’s girlfriend soon searches inside her purse and gives you a few notes and coins. “You probably walked a long way to get here, this is the least I can do. That’ll be enough money to get to campus on taxi.”

“Oh, uh… Thank you!” You hug her tight, thankful of her kindness. “I’ll be going now, see you later.”

“Bye bye!” She waves until you’re out of her sight. Smiling softly, she turns a different direction, rolling her eyes at the obvious arm and dangling bags hiding behind the entrance. “Chan, she’s gone now, you dumbo.”

Rushing out of the taxi, you jog all the way to the coffee shop and search for the male you were looking for. Quite obviously, he was sat in the same corner you would see him every day when you’d pass be the café.

“Jihoon! Long time no see.”

Jihoon was startled by your appearance, pulling his earphones out while stopping in the middle of his coffee stirring. “Y/N, hey?”

This was a bit awkward, yet still, you could get through that stage. “So I heard from a little birdie that you have my notebook.”

Jihoon nods but sniggers a little. He was trying to keep a straight face, but it looked like he knew something.

“What’s up?” You ask.

“I don’t have it.” He bluntly states. “Sorry, she lied to you. But we know where it is.”

“Why would she lie to me? Where is it?”

“You’re not getting it, are you?” You shake your head and Jihoon pulls out a folded piece of paper under his coffee cup, stained rings of coffee adding to the aesthetic. “Maybe this can help. I’m not telling you anything else, because I’m not in the mood right now, but when you see someone give them a slap for me will you?”

“Uh… Alright.”

Even though you desperately wanted to ask what the hell was going on, Jihoon left first to get another order of coffee and you waved a goodbye at the male as you walked off. It was barely four in the afternoon and your head was beginning to ache.

Walking at your own pace, you unfold the mysterious paper and read the contents inside. Written in pen, you slowly read the words in your head.

You look pretty today.

What was this? Jihoon wasn’t the smoothest with words, but it confused you to why he was suddenly flirting with you without any filter. The words didn’t fit his voice either — You couldn’t imagine his, but someone else’s. You sigh, reading the four words over and over again.

“What does this all mean? Why did I get lied to? Why am I not getting it?!” You groan tiredly, wanting to give up. “Chan, you asshole…”

Quickly, your eyes scan the note in anger.

“How do I look pretty today—“

You stop in your steps.

Maybe you were playing stupid.

It was all there, within those four, meaningful words. If you were anywhere else, the message would be unsolved forever, but at the right place an time, everything pieced itself together.

The right place and time, meaning, the art studio you laid your eyes on.

And everything began to flood again. The memories that you’ve kept locked in the back fo your head overfilled with bits and pieces of words and actions you couldn’t replace.

Could this be a trick? No, Chan wasn’t the type to let that happen to you, he stays true to his word about not baring to see the ones he love hurt. So it had to be real. But it felt so unreal. After so long you’ve gotten used to the conditions — The gut wrenching conditions — And with this realisation, you were in a heap of mixed feelings.

Soonyoung came back.

You run up the stairs and begin to rush into the empty studio where everything came into life, where friendship and romance blossomed. Panting, you search the room left to right, hoping there was a sign somewhere — but there wasn’t.

Your eyes were close to tears, trying to think like Soonyoung and where he’d put his next clue. But probably, Soonyoung was trying to think like you and where you would know where to find it. So, where would you find the next hint closer to him?

“The… Supply closet?” You think out loud as you sniff away your tears, slowly walking to the door with all the supplies, and open it, seeing a drawing dangling on string for you to receive.  You soon smile at the memory, kissing your teeth at how evil Soonyoung was. “That idiot!”

You grab the drawing and put it out for you to see. And to make fun of you more, Soonyoung drew your next location in oil pastels. You were definitely going to slap him, not just for Jihoon, but for yourself too.

The scenery was hard to decipher in this one. You could tell it was a playground, but there were so many playgrounds near this area and near parks that it was impossible to go to each one—

“Y/N?”

You look up at the familiar voice and see Dongmin’s shocked face. “Dongmin!” You gasp, beckoning him to come over. “Help me! Now!”

“Woah, chill,” He says, remaining shocked. He was about to ask you why you were crying, but was immediately ignored by you when you slammed a finger on the slightly smudged drawing, “Um… Explain?”

“Do you know where this play ground is?”

“Yeah, our whole class knows. It’s where Soonyoung- Wait, you’re fine with me talking about him, right—“

“Just continue!” So he didn’t know the news yet either, you guessed.

“Soonyoung goes there for inspiration. It’s the park near the rollerskating rink. The pink slide is obvious to see, you won’t miss it.”

“Okay thanks!” You peck the male on the cheek out of happiness and rush out of the building quickly, not waiting for his reply.

Again, you took a taxi and impatiently tapped your foot up and down hoping the ride to the park would be quick. You were desperate to have an outburst of anger in the car, but kept it all inside as you carried on thinking about Soonyoung.

Once you arrived, you stumble out after rushing to pay the driver and speed-walk to the park, smiling at the pink slide and rollerskating rink that confirm Dongmin’s description. Your heart begins to hurt, hands starting to tremble.

What if Soonyoung wouldn’t be here? What if this day of ups and downs really meant nothing and that it was just to play with your emotions? If it was, it would leave you in a big mess for a long time.

And there he was.

Calmly sitting on the swing, his hand hugging the pencil while he worked through the notebook on his lap, drawing out a female figure. You couldn’t believe it. It was him. It was Soonyoung.

“Oh my god,” You whispered, “Oh my god.”

You feel your knees failing and butterflies fly from your stomach all the way around to your chest, arms, back and head. Next thing you knew was that you used up all your strength to run all the way to the male before you tackled him off the swing, falling onto the ground (It was a bit dirty but the leaves covered most of the dirt).

“You idiot!” You say in the middle of a laugh and a cry, not sure if you were angry or happy to see him. “We text almost every dat and you don’t have to the heart to tell me you were coming back?! What type of asshole move is that?! You don’t have the bigger heart to tell me about the video either? I cried rivers in my bed because go you! I had to run around back and fourth to find clues, just to meet you here?! My legs hurt, my arms hurt, my heart hurts- I… I missed you. I missed you so much Soon’…”

You fall into weakness as Soonyoung tightens your grip around you, silently taking in all the words you’ve hidden before you sob into his shoulder again.

“Why are you back?” Quietly, you question. “Are you here to tell me goodbye for real…?”

A gasp escapes Soonyoung. Gently, he lifts you up and let you stare at each other for a while, taking in all your features again. He wasn’t speaking, and that scared you. But being able to see and feel all his features again, you were going to burst into an ocean of tears.

After the small analysis study, Soonyoung helps you to sit on the swing he was sat on before, as he follows by sitting to the one next to it, picking up his pencil and your notebook. He holds his hand out to yours, slowly bringing you closer to him so you could sit on his lap.

Suddenly, he shakes his head, smiling. And when he spoke, god, the tears were coming heavy. “I… I didn’t pass.”

Your heart is shattered by the comment, automatically moving your arms to hug the male, but before you could comfort him, he continues to speak.

“But it’s okay. I’d rather have tried than not try at all.And I think its better for myself to reflect than sulk about it, right?”

He tucks your hair and the smile continues to shine through him.

“Besides, I get to see the girl I love again.”

The both of you initiate a hug and hold each other tight, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll make it all up to you. The dates, the days, the words, the actions. I want to catch up on everything with you.”

“We have a lot to catch up on then.”

Soonyoung chuckles, cupping your cheek as a matching tear runs down his face. You do the same, but run a hand through his hair while staring at his starry eyed demeanour. It was like you were falling for him over and over again. And his voice turned a hundred times dreamier and softer, hardcore solidifying his place in your heart.

“Can I kiss you?”

“No sorries?”

“There never will be.”

And with that kiss, you knew that this will last forever.

OPPOSITES ATTRACT PART SEVENTEEN (FINAL) — Artist!Soonyoung x Writer!Reader

and with that... its safe to say this au is officially over ^~^ sorry ive left this for a week or two, school gives me zero time to rest so im like huzzah!!1!!11!11! killmenow- but anyway! i hope this 2.3k mess makes up for that, originally i thought that there shouldve been more soonyoung x yn moments but judging that soonyoung just came back, this was a more realistic approach(???)(i dunno how relationships work alright) i just want to say a big thank you to everyone who has read this from start to end, middle to end, or if this the first time youve read this au and think ‘wtf is this’ just.... thank you!!! ive shockingly grown these past three/four months all thanks to you and im so happy there are people who enjoy my stupid au haha~~ i’ll miss soonyoungs au!!!!! ufahsidojnk i loved writing some of his parts, especially the paint scene at the start of the au, and then the video message (wow emotional much) but now its time to throwback to mr chwe hansol’s au, this will be another reposting of his au, so im back to posting and scheduling daily now so!!! yayayay!! i wish everyone a great day and night an i love you alllllll <3 until next time! (ps. with the bias x theme thing, i’m still doing that but as a little side project, but that doesnt mean ill stop with the requests hehe, it’ll just take a while - love you!) | POLL | forgetful!vernon

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masterlist

#soonyoung #seventeen soonyoung #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung au #soonyoung texts #soonyoung imagines #hoshi #seventeen #seventeen texts #seventeen imagines #seventeen opposities attract au #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop texts #artist!soonyoung

[asphalt-cocktail]

Mortui Vivos Docent Part 4

A/N: Wow sorry I am such garbage and haven’t updated in SO LONG. I had really terrible writers' block for this story and I had no idea where to go with it. But I had a sudden inspiration! I hope you like the cameo of characters I have in right now, they will be major players in the coming chapters. Not much happens, but I promise I am planting seeds for the future chapters, this one is really long and I’m sorry; it took me 3 days to write this and I wanted to include a lot of stuff in it but not break it into different chapters because I was too lazy and it all kept coming out. I am on a roll right now so hopefully, a new chapter will be up soon! 

Pairing: Cop!Steve Rogers x Deaf!OC

Warnings: Mentions of gore and death, slow burn, Cop!AU. fluff, not proofread 

Word count: 4217

Masterlist

Submit a request or ask me a question or want to be tagged

<<<Part 3       Part 5>>>

The flickering of the disgustingly bright fluorescent lights caused Florence’s eyes to ache. She had been going over her pathology report for the last two hours trying to find out what had caused her patients stomach to blister from the inside out. She groaned before an uncharacteristic flicker caused her to jump and turn around. It was Dr. Strange, “Yes sir?” She asked.

“We have a field assignment.” He said holding her jacket out.

Florence quickly scrambled to her feet and gathered the supply bag and grabbed her jacket, putting it on as they left the basement, the van police scanner read back the conditions of the body and Florence struggled to make out words, she scrunched her nose in frustration “The details are always better at the scene.” Dr. Strange said noticing her frustration.

Florence nodded her head “Yeah, you’re right.”

Soon after they arrived at the scene, it was in the poorer part of town where gang violence was common, they were greeted with flashing lights from the fire department, police crew, and ambulance. A kid, probably 16 or 17 was screaming as he was strapped into a stretcher “I didn’t do it! I promise.” He said, his face was caked in blood and he was obviously in shock.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.” The paramedic said while he was lifted into the back of the ambulance.

Florence averted her eyes to not be rude and focused her attention on the officer that was taking notes and gathering evidence.

“What have we got?” She asked walking up to James

“We have an apparent teenage female and male both have received multiple injuries,” James said grimly.

“I need you to be more specific, what do you mean multiple injuries,” Florence asked and looked over his shoulder, she wasn’t able to see the bodies yet, but there were horrific amounts of blood splattered on the ground.

James let out a sigh, not one out of irritation, but more out of remorse “We can’t tell.” He said softly and turned to take her to the bodies.

When Florence saw them, she understood, they had been so battered it was hard to even make out their faces. Dr. Strange caught up to her and let out the same sigh Bucky did. They each knelt down at separate bodies “Any ID on either?” Strange asked.

“No, no IDs. The kid that is alive is being transported to the hospital and is being treated for defensive wounds and a slew of other things.” James responded.

Florence looked at the girl in front of her and shook her head and decided to do a temperature reading “These are really fresh, like within two hours the body has only gone down to 34 .5 Celsius.” Florence looked at her watch and back over to James “When was the first 911 call placed?” She asked.

James flipped through his little note pad and then looked at his watch “Around 15 minutes ago. It took us around 3 minutes to arrive and now here we are.” He said.

Nodding her head Florence looked at Dr. Strange “The average body loses 1.5 degrees every hour and she has lost 3 degrees. They’ve been dead for 2 hours and the first call came in 15 minutes ago and its broad daylight?” Florence asked.

Dr. Strange stood up and wrote on his field report “It’s not our job to find out why people took so long to call authorities,” he said curtly “TOD is at 12:17 PM for the male. He died before the female did.”

Florence scrunched her nose up, an hour before the female did? What the hell did this person do? Make them watch? She shook her head, Dr. Strange was right, it wasn’t their job to figure out the logistics behind the murder, only the cause of death. “Time of death for the teenage female is 1:30 PM. We’ll transport them to lab and get a better look at them there.” Florence said before stuffing her field notes into her bag.

This had been the first time Florence had ever been called to a trial. She nervously stood in the bathroom and ran her fingers through her hair and tugged at her blazer, she walked out and was greeted by Steve. They had been seeing each other, nothing too major, just going out for a few drinks after work here and there and occasionally spending the night just to sleep. It was… wholesome. And that was what Florence needed right now, “Come on, Flo, you look great.” Steve said smiling beneath his scruff.

Florence shrugged her shoulders “I haven’t been put on trial before. What am I supposed to even do?” She asked sighing.

Steve gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder “Just be honest and deliver the facts.” He said and pulled her into a quick side hug. Fraternization while in the work place was a no go for Steve, so the sudden affection was welcomed and helped ease her nerves.

Despite her hearing aids, Florence was still given an interpreter which was nice given the amount of people she would have to pay attention to. Talking in loud crows was not one of her favorite things, it was hard to listen to more than one person at a time and often overwhelmed her.

“The prosecution would like to call Dr. Florence Solomon to the stand.” A man dressed in a well tailored suit called her up.

Nervously she stood up and walked through the little gate and into the stand, she went through the procedures before the cross examination began. “Now, Dr. Solomon, would you please give a brief description of what you found in our two victims. Start with the female.” He asked standing in front of her.

Florence watched her interpreter and nodded her head “Right, well we arrived at the scene and found the 16-year-old victim, Dana Suarez in the grass behind the house, internal temperature of her body suggested that she died around an hour after the second victim.”

The prosecuting lawyer clicked on a little remote in his hand and pictures of the autopsy showed the mangled grey corpse of the girl, “Would you mind explaining pre and post mortem wounds, as well as the cause of death.”

Florence nodded her head and swallowed thickly, she was nervous, “So we counted 14 stab wounds throughout the victim’s torso, face, neck, and arms 6 of these were done before death and the other 8 were done after death and the wounds on Ms. Suarez’s hands were defensive in nature. The victim also had scratches along her face and neck that measured at 5.23 centimeters, 5.17 centimeters, and 7.68 centimeters in length. The cause of death was a combination of profuse bleeding and severing of the jugular vein.” She let out a long shaky breath.

“Is there any other evidence that you found on our first victim that we have not covered Dr. Solomon?”

“Yes, Ms. Suarez was found with skin and blood beneath her fingernails that indicated a struggle and that she fought whoever had attacked her. The DNA matched that of the defendant’s and there were also trace amounts of marijuana and cocaine in her system.”

“Now what about our second male victim?”

“The second victim’s name is 17-year-old Shaun Jackson. He was found at the same location as Ms. Suarez, however his time of death was an hour before at 12:17 PM. He received 17 stab wounds, also along his face, neck, torso, and arms 7 were before death and 10 were post mortem. The cause of death was asphyxiation from the collapsing of the left lung. He was also found with defensive stab wounds on his hands and had trace amounts of cocaine and marijuana in his system before death.” Florence glanced past the Prosecutor and looked at Steve for reassurance, he gave her a smile and nodded, she let out a sigh of relief.

The prosecutor turned to address the jury “Now as you can see from the images and description given to us by Dr. Solomon, these two victims are two children who ended up getting mixed up with the wrong crowd of people, it caused them to spiral down a path of drug abuse. However, their mistakes with the law do not excuse the fact that Mr. Andre Marshall had to continuously stab them until their faces remained disfigured and their poor families now need to have closed casket funerals-”

“Objection your honor, the prosecution is waving the bloody shirt,” the defendant said abruptly standing up.

The judge hit the gavel “The jury with disregard the previous statement given by Attorney Jacobs, and Attorney Jacobs, please keep to the facts.” She said gruffly.

“Yes, your honor.” The prosecutor said nodding his head respectfully, “Ms. Suarez had defensive wounds with the defendant’s DNA in them, as well as the murder weapon and house covered in his finger prints. These two teenagers simple were mixed in with the wrong crowd of people, but they should not be overlooked due to their past addictions. I ask you to please bring justice to Shaun and Dana and their families. That is all your honor.”

“The defense may now cross examine the witness.” The judge stated.

Florence sighed, she still couldn’t get up just yet.

There were two defense attorneys, odd, she thought.  The first one stood up, he had dark hair, scruff and appeared to be blind. “Dr. Solomon, tell me about yourself.”

Florence shifted in her seat “Well, I graduated from New York University- Langone and I have been working for the NYPD for the 7 months now, I have also been practicing for 7 months.” She stated.

The defense nodded his head and hummed “I see.” He said “Now, I don’t want you to have to go over and repeat all of the information you told the prosecution and cause the families sand jury to relive that trauma again. But, I do want to ask you in your expert opinion what build do you think one would have to be in order to cause such massive overkill?” He said now stopped right in front of her seated area.

Florence nodded her head “Well, I would expect someone well over 6 feet, that is consistent with the angle of the stab wounds coming in at a downward angle verses an upward or perpendicular angle with where their locations were. In order to be able to subdue two teenagers who were healthy despite their drug use would need a massive amount of strength.” In her honest opinion, she didn’t think the scrawny, terrified 17-year-old boy sitting in front of her could possibly be capable of killing two people with that much rage even if he was given all of the drugs in the world.

“And can you also inform us of what the effects of mixing cocaine and marijuana are?” he asked.

Florence thought for a moment “Cocaine is an upper, while marijuana is a depressant, your body is working against you it causes heart racing, paranoia, your blood pressure to rise, maybe even a little bit of hallucinating depending on how intense your paranoia is and ultimately it can cause death.”

“Now, I am not saying that they both died of heart attacks or a dangerous cocktail of drugs, because we know those are not the facts. But what we do now is that my client previous stated that Ms. Suarez began to act erratically and lash out, when my client tried to restrain her they ended in a small scuffle that caused the scratches to be on Ms. Suarez, and the DNA of Mr. Marshall to be found under her nails. My client Mr. Marshall is 17-years-old is 5’7” and weighs 125 pounds so there is no way he would have never been able to subdue Ms. Suarez and Mr. Jackson. The accredited medical profession who is sitting here stated it as plain as day that a man of much significant size would have had to be present and commit the crimes. We lost the lives of two kids who barely had enough time to live their lives, and I beg you to see the facts and not allow another’s to be thrown into the American Prison system and wrongfully accused.”

Finally. Someone who saw some sense in the case. She knew there had to have been one more person in that room with them, the poor kid is probably terrified the same will happen to him if he rats.

“Dr. Solomon, you may be seated.” The judge said. A security officer escorted her back to her seat next to Steve and James, “We will have recess until the jury has reached a verdict.”

Florence leaned back and cracked her back against the stiff wooden seat “You did great up there!” Steve grinned.

Florence looked at her feet and stood up, sighing “I felt like if I said anything wrong, I could have changed the whole outcome of the case.” She said and ran a hand through her hair.

“First time at a trial?” A voice asked behind her. Steve tapped her shoulder and pointed at the two defense attorneys.

“Was it that obvious?” She asked laughing lightly

“Honestly, no, you held yourself very well up there. Foggy Nelson and my partner Matt Murdock.” He said offering a hand out.

“Ah well you already knew me.” She said gripping his hand.

Steve let out a curt head nod, defense attorneys and police officers didn’t typically get along, however they remained civil.

Matt smiled politely and nodded his head “So Foggy told me you had an interpreter up there. It is honestly refreshing to see someone successful that also has a disability. Sometimes it gets overwhelming having people who don’t understand or undermine you.”

His bluntness was surprising, but refreshing Florence liked it and agreed with him “Yeah, it definitely is.” She responded.

“So, Mr. Rogers? Is it?” Matt asked.

“Captain Rogers.” He corrected.

“Right. Captain Rogers, I heard it through the grape vine that one of the cases has been handed over to the PD?” He inquired.

Steve’s eyes widened “Are you crazy? Keep it down, that case is supposed to be low profile now. Can’t talk about it.”

Matt nodded his head “Right…” He said in a drawn-out fashion that proved he didn’t believe a thing Steve had just said, we aren’t picking up the case, but if you would like to stop by our office later tomorrow we would be glad to discuss a few things with you and Dr. Solomon.” Foggy held out a simple business card and Steve accepted it.

“Thank you, we’ll be in touch.” He said and began to return to his seat.

“All rise, the Court of New York City, Honorable Judge Wilson is now presiding.” The bailiff said.

The judge entered and sat at her seat and hit the gavel “You may be seated.”

Florence hadn’t noticed, but roughly an hour of deliberating had passed. “Has the jury reached a verdict?” The judge asked once all of the members filed into the room and were seated.

The juror at the very end stood up and held out a piece of paper “We find the defendant Andre Marshall, not guilty.” She said nervously.

Florence let out a puff of air as the Marshall family wept tears of joy and the Suarez and Jackson family wept tears of anguish. James and Steve shook their heads, the case was still open, which means that the search was still on for the man who did this.

Later the next day after much paperwork Florence, Steve, James, and Clint went down to Hell’s Kitchen to visit Nelson and Murdock. It was a small office in a small shabby building “Andre, please if you have any other information, the police will keep you safe from whoever did this.” The voices could be heard pleading from the other side of the glass door.

The kid responded in a muffled voice before they said their goodbyes and left awkwardly out the door “Oh, hey, we weren’t expecting you this early.” Foggy said running a hand through his long hair “Please, come in.” He said opening the door wider.

The office was almost bare, you could tell they were still a budding practice, “So, tell us what you know about the case.” Steve said bluntly

“Wow, you like to skip around pleasantries.” Foggy said and held out a pot of coffee and offered it. Clint and Florence both took a cup.

“Well we know it has an impressive list of suspects.” Matt said leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. “Rumlow, Pierce, Stern”

Steve narrowed his eyes and looked at Matt and Foggy “How do you two know that?”

Foggy shrugged his shoulders “Being a defense lawyer has its perks.”

Clint liked how these two worked, they knew a lot and he knew that they weren’t telling them this for no reason. “Why are you telling us this, what else do you know?” He asked.

“Well, we want to know what you know.” Matt said smiling lightly.

“So, you invited us to compare notes?” James asked frowning.

Matt shrugged his shoulders, “I mean yeah, why not, we both want to take them down. There is no way in hell we are representing their case.”

Steve let out a sigh “Tell them about the autopsy, Flo.”

Florence nodded her head, she had brought pictures of the file with her. She didn’t want to take the whole file, it was way too risky “I have pictures of the report I typed up, I took them before I gave it to Director Fury, just be warned there are pictures of the body I had to examine in it.” she said sliding her smart phone across the table.

Foggy picked it up and grimaced at the images “What is it?” Matt asked noticing a shift in his friend’s demeanor.

“Well, it’s a badly decomposed body, ah, that’s about all I can stomach looking at right now.” He said sliding it back.

“The bruising around the victim’s neck happened before death and was a little bigger than the length of the average human hand, when I opened the neck there were hairline fractures in the vertebra around the neck. This means he was held underwater and struggled immensely against someone who was significantly stronger than he was and wanted him to stay under until he was dead.” Florence explained swiping through the pictures to refresh her memories. “We couldn’t get the time of death, it’s incredibly hard to tell when they are decomposing in water. But judging by the waxy and flaky skin that was literally sliding off the victim I would say he’s been in there more than a month.”

Matt scrunched his nose up and frowned “Anything else?” He asked.

Florence elbowed Steve and urged him to continue “We did a steak out at their place and noticed that Stern lives near the Hudson river and he and Rumlow had a meeting when we were watching them. So we sent someone to bug their phones.”

Foggy grinned “Shit you bugged their phones? Is that even legal?” he asked.

James had crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged his shoulders “I mean, what they are doing isn’t very legal either…” He said trailing off.

“So, now what do you know?” Clint asked.

“Well, all we have right now is lawyer gossip.” Foggy started “Rumlow is their pawn, he’s weak and they can afford to lose him that’s why they have him. We don’t know if any other of the officers are in on it, but they already have a lawyer for representation, his name is Parish Landman; he is a pretty high-profile lawyer.”

James smirked “Why didn’t they ask you to do it?” He asked smugly.

Matt frowned “They did ask us… But we don’t represent people who we know for a fact are guilty.” He said curtly.

Florence nodded her head, that was admirable of them. “After I conducted the autopsy, Mayor Stark came in and gave the whole case to the FBI.” She said frowning lightly,

“Damn,” Foggy said “That really puts us in a rut. Especially since we can’t do much with it in the FBI’s hands.”

“We have been talking with Stark’s intern Peter to keep up to date on the case but so far even he hasn’t had anything.” Steve added

“Parker?” Matt asked, “He’s a good kid, we run into him around City Hall whenever we make our way down there.”

Florence looked at Steve “What if we didn’t use him for information on the case? He works in the same area as the Senator, this is a whole new idea and way to look at the case!” She said getting excited and pulling her phone out, she started a facetime with Peter, he answered surprisingly quick.

“Hey Doctor Flo!” Peter said waving at the camera.

“Hey Peter! Do you have a minute to talk? I have a favor to ask.” She said smiling.

Peter looked around and bit his lip “Let me put my head phones in quick.”

“Ask him about the thing.” James said nudging Florence.

Florence shrugged James off and shushed him, “Sounds like there are a lot of people there, Doc, who’s all there?” He asked curiously.

“Ah, the usual Clint, James, Steve, there are some new people too-” she said before Foggy snatched the phone from her.

“Hey Pete!” Foggy said grinning, he looked over at Matt “Peter is waving at us right now and smiling.”

Matt smiled and gave the camera a curt nod “Peter.” He said

“Oh, hey Foggy! Hey Matt! Wow Dr. Solomon I didn’t know you knew Foggy and Matt that’s so cool.” He said through the phone screen.

Florence took her phone back and looked at Peter “Okay so you remember that case?” she asked. Peter nodded nervously “Do you have access to Senator Stern’s information?” She danced around her words hesitant to say them.

Peter swallowed thickly “I mean… Personally no, but I’m sure I can see Ned and Shuri and talk with them about it.”  He said trying to be as vague as possible.

“Thanks Peter! I really appreciate it!” She said grinning and waving at him as she ended the call.

They gathered their things and Florence walked to Steve’s car while the rest of the group parted ways. Florence leaned back in her seat and ran her fingers through her hair “Steve what the hell are we going to do? We can get in so much trouble doing this.” She said and covered her eyes.

Steve reached over and put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “Flo, it’ll be okay I promise.” He said in a comforting voice.

Florence looked up with a deep frown on her face “Steve, I wasn’t made to do police field work, I was made to stay in the dark depth of the police station and look at dead bodies and give families closure.” She clenched her eyes shut “I have to give the family of whoever that man was closure, someone is out there not knowing what happened to their loved one and Tony Stark isn’t letting us do that!” She said getting more flustered.

Steve pulled her tightly against his chest, she tried to pull away, still flustered, but melted into his arms like butter. Her breathing calmed “Florence you are an amazing Medical Examiner and you are a crucial part of every police investigation, Tony Stark took the case from us, but you were still able to do as much as you could to help the family. It’s up to the FBI examiner now.” He said and kissed the top of her forehead warmly.

Florence huffed against Steve’s chest, her voice was muffled in his arms “I know,” She said softly “Peter is going to help, and so is everyone else.”

---

The next morning at work she was greeted with an unfamiliar face “Hello,” She said hanging her coat on the rack “You’re not Dr. Strange.” She joked

“No, I’m Doctor Reed Richards, I work with the FBI and do their autopsies.” He said looking through the file he had in his hands. He was a tall man with brown hair that was streaked with flecks of gray and his forehead was wrinkled with worry lines.

“Nice to meet you Dr. Richards. I’m Doctor Florence Solomon.” She said trying to hold back her frown.

So, this was the dick that would be taking all of the credit on here report.

Stephen walked out from his private office and felt the tension in the air while Dr. Richards seemed oblivious to it “Dr. Solomon, I see you’ve met Dr. Richards.” He said curtly “Mayor Stark has given him full reign of our lab to conduct further investigation on the drowning case.” He informed.

Florence arched her eyebrows “Wonderful, happy to have you. Please let us know if you have any questions.” She said busying herself with work, she made sure to stay in range in case she picked anything up that she could tell Steve and Clint later on.

#Steve Rogers #Steven Grant Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x Deaf!OC #Chris Evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fic #MCU #Marvel MCU #Cop!AU #Cop!Steve Rogers

[wolf-in-a-suit]

Soul tax

Show: Supernatural

Summary: So your in hell! Not actual hell, but considering your annoying coworker Kevin and a soul draining boss, that would give Lucifer a run for his money, it's as close as it get's. How are you going to survive corporate purgatory? And why is there a new rich customer asking for the help of an intern? Well, find out...

You sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that hour. The busy clicking of your coworker’s fingers, dancing over his keyboard, was the lullaby threatening on rendering you unconscious. Never before, had you been so grateful for the wall of blinding computer monitors separating your desks, but here the annoying things gifted you with a secluded fortress. A bastion against the boredom of corporate life, you - or rather your brothers - had subjected yourself to. So, you continued to try to look busy, 'researching' on your favorite music website. Who knew, the insurance company you worked for could get a client from the music industry any day now, you were just preparing for any eventuality.

Bam - the door flew open and you, along with your heart, jumped into the air. Funny, you had never realized how utterly terrifying the appearance of a boss could be, you would rather go two rounds in the ring with a Vendigo, than face the sharp gaze of your supervisor. Once your guts had settled back into their respected places, you switched the screen with two clicks to the numbers you were so busy working on. Then you turned, to face cooperate doom personified, and were greeted with - a deserted hallway. Weird. Kevin your coworker, was too engrossed into the exciting world of paperwork to pay any attention, or care for that matter. Shapeshifters couldn't turn invisible right? "Are you actually going to get some work done, today?" A sneering voice erupted from behind the mountain of paperwork. 'Shut up, Kevin!' was the first thing shooting through your mind, but of course, an interested intern couldn't say that. So, you settled on the next best remark: "Yeah, right away."

See, that would teach him! You really had to hand it to the normal folks, this was just hell. The hunter life seemed like a walk in a flower field compared to the stacks of paper threatening to bury you here! Anger burned in your stomach, just thinking about your brothers. "Sorry kiddo but you're the responsible one, so it's perfect." Dean’s clap on your shoulder was followed by a wink. Going with the family motto: Offence is the best defense you started: „But Sam was a-" Sam’s voice seemed unusually rushed while cutting you off: "And we're both far too old to apply as an intern, it would look suspicious." To his credit he writhed a little under your smoldering glare. Dean on the other hand, seemed unimpressed. "You don't wanna tip the shapeshifter off, right?" And thus your contract for eternal - one month - suffering was signed. "Today!" The tower of paperwork had grown even more. Oh, how you wished that Kevin was the shifter... That would be so much fun. Bam- this time you didn't react to the door barging open, some draft insisted on gifting you with a possibly fatal scare every ten minutes today. Apparently your survival skills had dulled, this much was clear, when instead of a gust of air your boss, in all her imposing glory rushed into the room. When her sharp eyes focused on your computer screen, currently advertising the newest training trends, her neat shoes clicked to a stop at once. 'Busted! What is she doing here?' According to her neatly plucked eyebrows, just now meeting on the bridge of her nose, she wasn't about to hand you the employee of the month award. Your body tensed, a rabbit preparing to be swallowed whole, though to your surprise the snake didn't bear its fangs, instead: "There is an important, very wealthy-" here her eyes glazed over almost lovingly, as if talking about her boyfriend "-customer, I need help with." With the air of a privet, subjecting himself to a possibly fatal mission - all for the glory of his homeland - Kevin rose from his seat. "So ___, come along!" Pluck, Kevin’s weight falling heavily back into his chair would have been music to you, if you panic hadn’t started to wreaked havoc in your chest. You had no idea how to help! You were just the intern, the glorified doormat of any company! Did they now expect you to take on responsibility, as well, as making coffee? "Mam, do you really think I'm the right person for...?" She scoffed dark hair whipping on her shoulders. "For whatever reason, the client requested the presence of an intern." If your inner alarm bell hadn’t bleared before it now was Quasi Modo having a nervous breakdown in Notre Dames bell tower. Clack, clack your bosses strides echoed down the corridor an urgent beat to them. You simply followed, entering the meeting room meekly behind her. The sight that greeted you there was enough to freeze your whole body.

"Ah how lovely, fresh blood." There, sitting both proudly and relaxed at the same time was none other than Crowley. His devious smirk was accented by his black suit and blood red tie. You settled on the most eloquent and suave approach to handling the situation like a pro: Starring at the demon dumbstruck.

"Not the most extroverted flower in the pot, hmm?" His white teeth gleamed and your boss made a sound probably supposed to be a laugh, while nudging you -rather forceful- into the direction of your 'client'. "Well, ___ here is new and you’re her first client: Stage fright, all part of the rooky year experience." She clapped your shoulder in a seemingly jovial manner, but the tightening of her grip, with nails as sharp as claws, wasn’t lost to your aching flesh. The demon’s eyes followed while you were being ‘respectfully’ manhandled into a seat across from him. His dark eyes gleamed with mirth at the prospect of the Winchester sister being served to him on a silver platter. "So Mr. Johnson, I think you will love our offer of..." but you would never know what exactly was so tempting in making a deal with the devil. Which was for the better, as you had no idea who would claim the soul of whom in this tank full of sharks. "Mrs. Smith, I would prefer your esteemed-" he pressed the word, emitting all it’s sweet juice "-intern here, to handle the hard work." The smile fell, as your boss smelled deceit but was soon replaced with an even broader smile. "Mr. Johnson, surely you want someone familiar with the work to handle your case, in order to avoid any mistakes." Shark teeth shone brightly in the dim light of the room. When Crowley reached out you almost jumped him. Judging by the mocking sideway look he cast you, your murderous intention wasn't lost to him. He didn't deter, however and grasped your boss’s hand.

"I would rest easier if I knew your delicate fingers to not be bothered with such trivial matters." Such foul sweetness was placed into each syllable that you felt the need to empty your lunch into the trash can, next to the desk. The bastard even had the audacity to stroke the woman's hand, while silently enjoying your reaction immensely. "Furthermore, everyone needs to start with some client and I so do love helping people learn from their mistakes." The dark charm rolling over your boss did the rest: "Of course Mr. Johnson, thank you for giving our intern this possibility." All caution and businessman ship forgotten, she almost floated out of the room. Clack, the door fell shut leaving you, glaring at a very satisfied demon. You couldn't keep your eyebrow from climbing farther up your brow. "Johnson? You gotta be kiddin' me!" The king of hell, simply regarded his nails. "Well, I suppose some of that Winchester charm has rubbed off on me." "What do you want? What are you planning?" At this Crowley feigned a hurt expression. "Darling, you wound me! Am I not allowed to visit you at work? I am merely a concerned-" "Like hell you are! Now spill!" He halted in his theatric pose, a hand on his nonexistent heart, and regarded you for a moment. The former mocking quality of his dark eyes froze and an unsettling expression crept into them. "You're just like moose, always looking for the great agenda. But did you ever consider the fact that..." Here, he leaned in, far too close for comfort "... I'm just enjoying seeing you squirm?" He leaned back and continued in a relaxed fashion: "One of the merits of being a demon, is seeing a certain hunter jump each time a door flies open." A roar escaped you "You little son of a..." The demon ignored your outburst and activated a button on the table. "Mrs. Smith, I believe your intern needs help here." His eyes drifted up to you, gesticulating and waving to him: ‘Please don't do this to me!’, but the sadistic expression stretching around his features, spoke volumes about the nose dive your day was about to take. What a day! Crowley had taken every opportunity, and you meant every opportunit, to make your live miserable: Asking for the most complex contract, an exact calculation of every financial way his investment could play out were just love tabs for him. Each time you dared to deviate from your task, mostly by throwing curses at him, he simply called for your boss like a lap dog. At the end the Chi Wawa thanked him for his patience with the untrained intern. You facial muscles still felt sore for trying to hold a smile at that. What had you ever done to deserve this!?

"Hey, Zuckerberg how is going?" Dean greeted, while you were busy throwing the heavy warded door to the bunker with too much force back in it’s place. Sadly, it simply drifted shut with a click. So much for therapeutic, anger reducing, door slamming. You spared your brothers an unamused look, while muttering something about ‘planning to kill someone’. Slam, the door to your room, wasn’t as fortified against a twenty-something’s fury. Sam and Dean exchanged a look, and silently agreed: Whatever it was would settle itself, they put a good amount of distance, between themselves and your room, for good measure. After all, they didn't want to be over bearing brothers! Without changing your clothes you fell into bed, vowing to kill both Crowley and Kevin. The tortured faces of your soon would be victims, lulled you into a restful slumber.

You woke up to the heavenly smell of coffee and the soft sound of a strumming guitar. Carefully opening one eye, you were greeted by the sight of a tablet, laden with croissant, jam and an apple on a stool right next to your bed. “What the actual, …” How did your brother’s get through your closed door. A few moments later, nursing your first cup of coffee you started to wake up. With that came the realization that this wasn’t a very Dean, or Sam-ly fashion of showing support. ‘But who?” That’s when you registered who was singing on the record: "I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees."

The next minute was filled with you, spluttering, trying to emit coffee from your lungs. When you finally calmed down you sat on your bed, a little shell shocked, but soon a small smile stole itself on your features. To the seemingly empty room you said: ”Well, thank you Mr. Johnson!”

#supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #crowley x reader #crowley imagine #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #winchester sister

[littlestshelby]

Evelyn.

It was the summer after grace had died that Evelyn had started working at the shelby house. Her main job was to clean the bedrooms and occasionally watch young Charlie. She was the maid. Even having worked there for over a year now she had only seen Thomas around the house once or twice. Evelyn was usually sleeping by the time the man was home for the evening or was cleaning sheets while he ate his breakfast. Not that she minded, she was 23 and wanted nothing to do with the dangers of knowing Mr Shelby.

One night when little Charlie had been sick Evelyn had stayed in his room in the rocking chair keeping an eye on the poor little thing. He seemed to just have a stomach ache and a temperature but she wanted to be close by just in case. At around 11pm the small boy had woken up crying and crawled into Evelyn’s lap cuddling close falling back to sleep while she rocked him in front of the fire. Much to Evelyn’s dismay she fell asleep holding onto the child both of them wrapped in a blanket, Little Charlie clutching onto her as he slept soundly. It wasn’t until 1 am that Mr. Shelby had arrived home and heard about his sons Ill health.

Not taking Mary (the housekeepers) word for him being fine he hurried up to his sons room freezing as he caught the sight in-front of him. He had only met Evelyn once or twice around the house he had honestly forgotten she worked for him, which was rare. She looked so young and sweet as she slept peacefully with the youngest Shelby. He quietly made his way into the room and began to carefully lift his son from the maids arms but as soon as he touched young Charlie, Evelyn grabbed his arm looking startled and ready to scream.

She blinked a couple times before composing herself and gasping a little quickly letting go of Tommy’s arm. “I’m so sorry mister Shelby, I-I thought someone had come to take him.” She stumbled out quickly standing looking at Tommy who just stared at her while holding his sleeping boy. “I’ll be on my way mister Shelby, he’s okay now I took his temperature not long ago and he’s stopped complaining of stomach pains” she explained before rushing out of the room and down the hall.

It was a few days later Thomas had come home early just to see the maid who had stayed with Charlie through the night. Evelyn was making Charlies bed making the small boy giggle as she played peek a boo with the sheets. He squealed clapping his hands making Evelyn’s smile grow even wider. Tommy stood against the door watching for ten minutes or so at the two play before he walked into the room. “I did not know I payed you to protect my son Miss Taylor” he breathed making her jump from where she was.

She didn’t know how to respond frowning she stood with her hands folded “I am payed to clean the bed chamber and watch young mister Shelby on a Tuesday morning sir. I apologise for the other evening I just wanted to make sure someone was with him if he got more sick in the night” Evelyn tried not to rush her words but she would be surprised is he heard a word she said.

“No need to apologise, he has no mother to do those things for him. I appreciate you caring about him so much. I would like you to become his nanny full time, he seems to like you a great deal” Mr. Shelby lifted up his son who was making whining noises at his father. “I will see to it that your wages are raised and you will be moved into the room next to Charlie’s if you accept”

Evelyn just nodded quickly with a smile, “I would love that very much”

It was a day occurrence now that she spoke to Thomas who had now assured her that she was to call him Tommy. She would talk to him while she fed Charlie his breakfast and while she was bathing the boy before bed and then once more before she herself would go off to bed. The other maids in the house had made it clear to her to stay as far away from Tommy as she could, that he was trouble. But from what she had seem he was just a nice man who had lost his wife and had a lovely son she got to care for.

It was a Tuesday evening in March that Evelyn had been for a bath in her room and changed into her night gown her hair half up in a bun while the rest formed ringlets around her face and down her shoulders. She was a slim girl with a petite frame. Her mother told her she looked like a little cherub. Evelyn was just getting ready for bed when she heard a loud bump as if someone had fallen out of bed. Hurriedly she made her way to Charlie’s room in case the small boy had fallen and hurt himself but no, he was fast asleep in the middle of his bed clutching his bear.

Evelyn frowned making her way back to her room before bumping into someone, “ooop” she squeaked as her bum hit the floor. “Sorry!” She whispered feeling a hand grab her own and help her up. “What are you doing out of bed so late?” Tommy’s voice asked threw the darkness. Making her wrap her arms around herself to conceal her modesty. “I heard something I thought Charlie had fallen out of bed” she spoke softly so not to wake anyone else in the house.

“Ah that would be me I apologise for disturbing you” He was quiet for a moment. “Would you like to join me for a night cap?” He asked. She could feel his eyes on her even if she couldn’t see them, so she nodded “okay Tommy Just the one” she hummed letting him take her hard to the room at the end of the hall with the light on. Knowing it was his bedroom.

It was a simple room with a couple of chairs, a bed, a desk and the large fireplace. Evelyn took a seat in the comfortable chair while Tommy sat next to her pouring her a drink. They didn’t speak much for the first hour or so. Not until the third glass of whisky. “You did not work here when grace was alive” Tommy had asked looking at the fireplace.

Evelyn shook her head “no I didn’t but I hear she was a wonderful woman” she smiled respectfully at Thomas who simple nodded. “I think if you had, she would still be here” Evelyn’s eyes shot to him. “What do you mean by that Mr. Shelby.” She asked confused. He took a sip of his drink “I would have ended up with you.” He downed the last of his drink and began pouring another.

Evelyn stayed quiet still confused by what Thomas was saying. “I can see it now, me, you, a child of our own. I’ve become very fond of you the last few months Eve, not that you have noticed” he laughed to himself. “I’ve thought about asking you out for dinner or to the races but I can’t bring myself to do it. You’re nothing like her yet you’re perfect. I don’t know how that makes me feel” he spoke with a frown on his face now as Evelyn stared at him.

“I don’t know what to say Tommy” she reached for his hand squeezing it a little. Not noticing how he flinched at the contact. He set down his drink and pulled her close to him his hand pressed to her cheek, “I need this” he mumbled before pressing his lips to hers. Evelyn’s heart was beating out of her chest, she knew she liked Tommy but she knew it was just a silly crush. But here he was kissing her in his bedroom after admitting he liked her maybe even loved her.

Standing to his feet Tommy pulled her with him “jump” he grunted against her lips as he gripped the back of her thighs. She did as she was told and wrapped her legs around his waist hooking them behind him. She could feel him getting hard against her as he kissed her fiercely. The Next she knew her back was pressed against the wall and Tommy’s hand was between her legs.

The next morning she woke alone, her clothes where they had been taken off. She didn’t take the time to think back on the nights events she just got dressed and ran to her room hoping no one saw her. She got ready for her day and went to wake up Charlie. Smiling and cooing at the boy she walking into the dining room seeing Tommy’s chair empty. Oh.

It had been three months since that night and three months since she had seen Tommy. It had also been two and a half months since she was demoted from nanny and sent down to the kitchens to work. ‘By order of the shelby family’ the letter read. She knew why, she knew exactly why. Evelyn never breathed a word about the night she spent with Tommy but she wondered how many others he had coaxed into bed with a false admission of love.

The day she found out she was pregnant she went straight into the city to her mother and fathers house. She cried as they screamed at her for being a whore and for bringing a bastard child into the world. She refused to tell them who the father was stating he was someone passing threw who she would never see again. She was ashamed and felt awful. As she was leaving to go back home and to work her mother slapped her hard across the face stating she would fix this and that Evelyn wouldn’t ruin their family’s good name.

Evelyn got a ride with a couple of the gypsy girls back up to the house, thanking them as they left her at the drive way. She headed inside and went straight to Charlie’s room where he was sleeping. She crawled in next to him and cried herself to sleep holding the small boy she had grown to love. She was woken a few hours later by Thomas carrying her to her room. She was to tired to care and just let him tuck her into bed. Not before touching her now bruised cheek making her wince in her sleep.

Two months later she received the letter with her wedding date attached. Her parents were marrying her off to some distant cousin who would clams the child was his for her hand in marriage. Evelyn was now five months pregnant and being a Shelby baby her stomach was bigger than the usual five month bump. She had managed to avoid Tommy completely while she was pregnant. She still snook in to play with Charlie while Tommy was at work, he would poke her bump until the baby kicked back, he would squeal and laugh joyfully. She was going to miss him so much.

So here she was Evelyn Taylor stood outside Thomas Shelby office with a letter of resignation in her hands. The tin engagement ring on her finger was slightly loose as she cuddled with it. She knocked gently on the door before stepping inside. “What now Finn? I’m busy.” Tommy snapped not looking up.

Evelyn cleared her throat “I’m actually it’s me, I-I came to hand my notice” Tommy’s focus was on her as soon as she spoke. His eyes glued to her stomach and then the ring on her finger before finally her face.

He held out his hand for the letter. She stepped towards his desk one hand on her bump the other handing him the letter.

‘Dear Mr. Shelby,

As you know I have worked for your house for the past 2 years and looking after Charlie has been the highlight of my life. But sadly I have to resign from my position to focus on my soon to be husband and child. I thank you for the wonderful opportunity’s.

Sincerely.

Evelyn Taylor’

Tommy read over the letter leaning back in his chair glancing up at Evelyn who kept her eyes on the ground. “Who are you marrying?” He asked his voice wavering a little. “Peter..” she didn’t finish his name feeling ashamed. Tommy raised his eyebrow. “Name” he spoke his voice stronger this time. “Peter Taylor” she spoke, the name feeling like sick in her mouth.

“Is he the one who hurt you?” He asked standing up walking closer to her. Evelyn frowned “pardon?” She asked quietly willing the tears in her eyes to vanish.

Tommy hooked his finger under her chin making her look him in the eye. The tears streaming down her cheeks. “My mother” she whispered. Thomas nodded once more. “Why?” He questioned. “Because I’m pregnant” she hiccuped a Little now finding it hard to breath.

Thomas helped her sit down carefully. Crouching in front of her, “I see, well there is no need to be worked up and get yourself into a state.when Ada has Karl our aunt Poll nearly killed her and now they’re thick as thieves again.” He tried to make her feel better but she continued to cry.

Grace was like this, inconsolable at times while she was pregnant. “Tell me about this fiancé of yours, ay. I bet he’s happy to ‘av you out of here” he smiled a little holding her hand ignoring the pricks to his heart as he thought of her with someone else. His jaws clenching slightly.

“I don’t now! I don’t know anything about him” she cried even more. “I’m stuck marrying a man I’ve never met with a baby no one but me wants and loosing the only job I’ve ever wanted”

Tommy stopped for a moment “you’ve never met your fiancé” she shook her head “no and my mothers making me marry him this Sunday she’s even had the bloody dress made and there will be no guests I-i” she sat up choking on her words as she realised what she’d done.

Shaking her head quickly as Tommy’s face grew angry. He stood up running a hand down his face. Evelyn stood carefully and quietly backed toward the door shaking as he faced the other way. “Don’t you dare” his voice penetrated the silence as her hand his the handle.

Tommy span around. “Why the fuck would you marry someone else when you’re having my fucking baby Evelyn! My fucking child that you didn’t tell me about!” He screamed marching towards her. She shook like a leaf as he stood in front of her.

“M-my mother s-she” Evelyn pressed her back to the door. “She made you lie to me?” He shouted, his fists balled at his sides. Evelyn shook her head, “I couldn’t tell her Tom, she already hates me. If I told her it was yours a-and you didn’t want me I’d have been thrown out the family” she cried softly into his hands now.

“I’m sorry Tommy, I’m so sorry, I know I’m not her and I know that hurts you, that’s why you can’t look at me. But I’ll be gone soon I promise. J-just forget about this okay?” She wiped her eyes still shaking. Thomas’ body and face softened slightly pulling her into his chest. “You’re not going anywhere” he promised.

Evelyn shook her head pushing against him. “I have to” she turned to leave. Tommy grabbed her arm. “You’ll be here with me and Charlie and our baby and we’ll be a family. You’re mine you have been since the day I lay eyes on you, I’m an idiot who thought you deserved better and you do but for now let me take care of you” he stroked her cheek gently. Wiping away the last of her tears.

“ I don’t want to be a charity case Tommy” she whispered.

“I love you Evelyn. There is nothing charitable about it.” He pressed his lips to hers once more.

Evelyn Shelby gave birth to Nancy Pollyanna Shelby on the 25th of December. Her and Tommy had wed in the October and she had legally adopted Charlie in the following March.

#tommy #shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #john #john shelby #john shelby x reader #arthur #arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #finn #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #ada #ada shelby #polly #gray #Michael gray #Michael gray x reader #polly gray #alfie #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #fanfic #imagine #smut #peaky #blinders #peaky blinders

[leefelixs]

boyfriend kim woojin • stray kids

genre: fluff

pairing: kim woojin & you

word count: 2139 words

summary: dating woojin and all the quirks/aspects of your relationship

note(s): i have the softest spot in the world for woojin.. he’s just so cute and precious...i adore him :( our little bear. anywho thank you so much for your kindness and every like/reblog on my first post! here we go yet again, once again bullet proof format. <3

your first real meeting with woojin was at the guitar center during your last year of high school

it had been your first job which you adored greatly and felt so happy to work with something you loved so dearly, that being music and guitars

there was no musical ability in your hands but you adored to watch and listen to others play, it was always so magical

on a particularly slow day during the winter two boys wrapped up in their scarves and coats came in with bright eyes and jaws agape at all the amazing models arraying the shop

“oh, i didn’t know you worked here. it’s nice to see you!” shaking his head slightly to have his scarf move down, you recognized your classmate kim woojin

kim woojin was your ultimate crush for a whole year but you had never truly had the chance to speak to him, all you ever got to see was his kindness and respectful personality and how he helped a lot of the younger students do their best

the only words exchanged between you two previously was when you fell asleep in history and he nudged you once the bell had rang politely telling you that you should probably wake up

“uhm, i do. it’s nice to see you too. do you need help with anything?” boy oh boy were you thankful for the counter covering the lower half of your body because your legs were wobbling like jelly

“i think i’m okay for now, i just wanted to look at prices.” you nod and force a strained smile

“if you need help with anything let me know!” although you pretend to focus on the computer screen in front of you...it is painfully obvious you’re watching woojin and his friend

but y’know his friend, seungmin you think his name is, he’s a real hero and pretends not to notice

the two walk around the store and check various models and the excitement in woojin’s eyes are amazing

until his eyes see the price and his smile immediately fades

after an hour of browsing and realizing he doesn’t have enough for any of the guitars he sees the two boys resign from looking and decide to make their way out

for some reason your heart aches at seeing the disappointment on his face

i have to find a way to help him...but what if i should stay out of it and mind my business? no, he looks so disappointed. just try it out.

“hey! we’re hiring by the way if you want to try to work here...the owner is really nice and works well with school hours. it’s a decent amount of pay too.” with that his vision turns to you and is smiling bashfully

“do you think i could get an application then?”

you swear never in your life have you been so quick even if you got a vicious paper cut from the sheet (seungmin laughs slightly at your wince but doesn’t point it out)

“here! you can bring it back any time of the week from 3 to 8. i’ll be here.”

he bows so much and nearly knocks into the floor every single time constantly thanking you and excitedly looking at seungmin for approval

and obviously when you tell your boss about your smart uh, ‘friend’ who applied, he’s more than happy to give him the job

and that’s how woojin became your co-worker and probably a better worker than you

he’s quick to learn everything he has to do and takes everything really serious and is quite attentive to every detail you tell him

“this is so weird, i’m so used to explaining things for other people.” his small smile is so soft and warms your heart you want to throw a guitar pick at him

your friendship with woojin eventually picks up from there too because both of you have nearly the same schedule but you’re a little scared he might end up outgrowing you and no longer needing your help so you do contemplate mixing him up a little

but who could do that to woojin? no one of course so you sit and persevere

he’s so sweet and offers you some of his lunch everyday just so you have something to fill you up (even if it’s his mom’s cooking and he would rather have it all to himself)

you’re both ridiculously close and around 8 months of knowing each other you can safely say he’s one of your closest friends and your one of his

“so, woojin, are you buying that guitar to write songs for your girlfriend?” you tease one day as you tune some of the strings on the display models

woojin just looks at you like uh and you’re like oh uhm.. well

“or uh, boyfriend?”

he just laughs and shakes his head

“no, neither, i don’t have anyone special like that. i do like someone but...it’s too soon to say.” you kind of wish you didn’t ask because wow what a mistake

“ah i see” the rest of the conversation is carried by him because you feel a little too sad to keep it going

finally around 13 months of working there does woojin run in with the biggest grin

“guess what i just bought?” and you gasp as he hugs you and you both jump around happily because oh my god YES he deserves this! he is so happy and you’re so happy and he looks so excited and you’re so excited

“sit! sit and listen to this.” he takes the guitar carefully and strums a few notes while clearing his throat and slowly beginning to play

why did no one tell you kim woojin has the vocals of another worldly force? who knows but you wish they did because your heart is weak

your clapping is so loud and obnoxious and you are so delighted

“play me a song woojin!” 

he visibly tenses up but nods and begins to play again, much slower and softer

and as he starts singing you realize the lyrics are like that of a love song

your heart is pounding as he shyly keeps singing and playing and eventually halfway through softens and stops playing overall, looking up at you blankly

“why’d you stop playing?” you sound so small and embarrassed as you ask but your face is so hot and you’re positive you are sweating

“because i promised myself i would only play the rest for my future girlfriend. so if you want to hear the rest, maybe you’ll say yes?” his eyes are looking at his shoes that suddenly seem very interesting wow

“then play the rest of the song for me, you know i’ll say yes.”

voila! a cute match really, the boss is quite proud and claims it’s all his doing for hiring both of you (little does he know you’re both going to quit respectfully after this because like well woojin got his guitar and doesn’t need the job so why are you going to stay uh duh moving on)

much like woojin is as a friend and person overall, he’s more of a listener than a speaker

he is content with just being by you and listening to stories about your day and the things you have to say

the most important thing to him is communication between the both of  you and he just wants you to know he is always open to anything you need to say and will never judge you for anything

whenever he walks by you just casually reach over and smack his butt playfully because we can’t resist a thiccums

every time he just laughs and engulfs you into a hug and rubs his knuckles into your head (gently of course)

his jokes are actually so well thought out and well timed it’s actually kind of unfair how much he makes you laugh and whenever you guys hang out your ribs hurt and your cheeks are aching

you’ll be watching tv and he just slowly drags himself across the floor in front of the tv and stares at you

“babe...i’m watching tv”

and he just makes a face

and slowly drags himself back out

“woojin what the hell”

he’s quite honest with you but is good at wording things so he never hurts your feelings

“what do you think of this outfit?”

“i think...someone so good looking can wear something better than that”

you’re both pretty spontaneous in date plans and one day you decide ice skating is very important

not even two seconds in you fall on your face as woojin is flailing to catch you

both of you end up tangled up on the ice and although it’s painful he’s so happy to have someone so endearing

sometimes he’ll be reading something on his phone and just lean in really close and he stops what he was looking at and looks at you confused

“can i?” you point at his jaw and he just looks at you like what the heck but nods and you just gently trace it

“what’s up with you?” he teases you but you just laugh

“you have a nice jawline, leave me alone!”

really wants you to play sports with him and be athletic with him but holy cow do you NOT want to do that

he’s just running around and doing everything so easily even when he’s all sweaty and you’re wheezing with just a few little quick steps

but boy does he look good with that hairband and sweatpants

SWEATY HUGS! even if you scream and try to run away he loves hugging you even with sweat dripping down his face

“give me a kiss!”

“no please go shower please woojin i love you but not this much”

you both just look at each other because you did not intend to let that slip so soon and so unromantically but his big grin makes you happy with saying it

“i might love you more, you can’t even kiss me.”

before he does anything like eating he makes sure you do it first and are satisfied

seriously woojin will just stare at you while you eat and halfway through while you stuff a piece of chicken down your throat with rice spilling down your face you’re like “is there a problem?”

and he just wipes away the food with a smile and shakes his head

you’re so precious to him

when you get upset or scared he just holds you and sings any of your favorite songs until you feel better

“hey, how are you such a stable singer woojin?”

“i don’t know, it just happened. i’m pretty sure i could withstand a ball being thrown at my stomach and keep singing.”

“...wanna try?”

turns out he really can what a world 

he’s not really big on pet names or anything but he does occasionally call you “my love” and that’s really all you need

he’s not as physically intimate as most, woojin likes showing his love and affection for you through little actions like cleaning up after you, asking you about your day, telling you how proud he is of you, packing little things so you won’t forget them, etc.

your first kiss is poorly planned actually

you were getting ready to go out on a date and while you pick an outfit he sneaks up on you and helps you get ready

while you brush and style your hair he puts whatever accessories you picked on you and ties your shoes even if you don’t need him to

and when you’re ready he just looks at you and mumbles something

“what?”

“i said can i kiss you?”

and you just nod slowly and he goes in for it super softly and carefully as if he’s afraid to fluster you or do anything you’re uncomfortable with

you both like to go around town or go for walks around the neighborhood together because the weather is usually nice

“that house is really big and pretty. i want a house like that but a lot cozier and less expensive looking.”

“maybe in the future we can get one like that?”

and you’re so shocked because you never realized woojin thought about things like that but you don’t mind at all

more than you would like to admit it, your future seems to be perfect as long as he’s in it

#woojin #kim woojin #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #kpop scenarios #stray kids imagines #scenarios #woojin imagines #boyfriend woojin