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moonbeamwritings · 4 years ago

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the three times you kiss jotaro’s forehead + the one time he returns the favor

Summary: Jotaro didn’t find himself to be an overly affectionate man, accepting it reluctantly and dishing it out rarely. With you, though, he might as well be putty in your hands.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to the lovely @jostepherjoestar who listened to me babble on about this idea. I’m also still working to chip away at requests, so keep an eye out! I hope y’all enjoy !!

!! slight tw for descriptions of nightmares/blood/mental health issues and spoiler warning for part 3 !!

Jotaro was certainly no stranger to affection. His mother’s goodbye smooches, pressed to his cheek while he ducked to meet her halfway; The way his grandfather would ruffle his hair the moment his hat was off his head; The girls from high school, desperately clinging to his arms and coat, making him squirm in discomfort under their hungry gazes.

And yours.

Your affection, so minimal and subtle in its delivery, never failed to make his heart race, to make his face heat up in slight embarrassment. You kept your public displays minimal, straying away from kisses and hugs in favor of wrapping your hand around his or keeping close to his side, arms brushing against one another.

At home, though, you held back less, never shying away from kissing his cheek or wrapping your arms around his waist, nuzzling against his back.

He never thought he’d be one for affection. Hell, he barely knew how to return the favor, but here you were, showing him you cared through such small, intimate acts.

His computer monitor burned his eyes as his fingers danced along the keyboard in front of him, clock ticking away to punctuate the silence of his home office. The files spread out across his desk acted as a constant reminder of the deadline for his research paper. Jotaro sighed.

You, on the other hand, were out in the living room to give Jotaro the time and space he needed to get his work done. Your heart tugged as you looked at the time.

12:43 AM

The movie credits rolled on the television in front of you and you decided to take your leave, finally ready to wrap yourself in your comforter and drift off to sleep for the night.

On your way to bed, you saw the light from his office drift out into the hallway, casting oblong shadows onto the walls. Stopping to stand in the doorway, you admired your boyfriend’s form, quietly tapping away at his computer.

Without sparing you a glance he asked, “Heading to bed?”

You smiled as you stepped into the room, coming around his desk to hug him from behind. “Mhm, you?”

Jotaro quickly shook his head, pulling a hand away from his work to hold one of your forearms in his grasp, “Not yet. Sorry.”

You hummed, rolling your eyes. “You work far too hard, ocean man.”

He nearly groaned at the little nickname.

“But I’m tired.” You continued. “G’night, love you.”

“Love you.”

Hearing his reply, you hunched farther over his shoulder to plant warm, chaste kisses to his temple. Once, twice.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

You knew that telling him that would ultimately fall on deaf ears, but hey, you could dream couldn’t you?

He listened to your footsteps pad down towards the bedroom as his face warmed, reinvigorated by the soft kisses you pressed to his forehead.

ii.

Jotaro appreciated you, so much so that sometimes it made his heart burst. He was bad at expressing it to you, either verbally or physically, but god did he love you.

Jotaro’s day at work had been… less than stellar, to say the very least. The data his lab had been collecting hadn’t been saved correctly, thus setting the lab back by a whole week, another researcher had practically berated his methodology in front of their colleagues, and to top the whole thing off, someone had spilled coffee all over the front of his favorite white coat.

In short, everything sucked.

His head hung low, hat having already been flung off when he began to drive home. His coat was at the cleaners, leaving him in his simple, black turtleneck.

Kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag in its usual place, Jotaro was quick to rest back against the couch, stretching his limbs out as he placed his head against the armrest.

“Baby? That you?”

Baby. The pet name made a ghost of a smile appear on Jotaro’s lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He called back, slinging an arm up to cover his eyes.

When you saw the state Jotaro was in, splayed out on the couch like a dead man, you frowned.

“Bad day, big guy?”

“Really bad.” His response was short, a grumbled mess hidden behind the sleeve of his sweater. As you made your way over, leaning down to hover above his tired form, all you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms, shielding him from whatever weight was on his shoulders.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, not right now.”

Jotaro was a man of few words, but it especially made your heart ache when you could so plainly see how upset he was. You watched as he shifted his arm away from his eyes, gazing up at you, “Sorry.”

Closing the distance, you hunched lower to leave one, gentle smooch right in the center of his forehead, cradling his cheeks in your hands. The feeling of your soft lips against his forehead eased the tension between his brows, lifting the weight from his shoulders. It was as if your mere presence made his heart that much lighter. He was beyond grateful.

“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get it out of you one of these days. You hungry?”

Jotaro’s stomach growled in lieu of a verbal response.

You laughed. “Come on, handsome, I tried making one of your mom’s recipes.”

Maybe this day could be salvaged, Jotaro thought as your fingers came to twine with his.

iii.

He saw Kakyoin, Avdol, and Iggy often, but no, not in the way that you’d think.

They haunted him. Dreams, nightmares filled with nothing but blood, gore, and the whirring roar of sirens. Their voices were often warped, both far away and so, so close that Jotaro felt as though he would go deaf. Accusatory fingers pointing in his direction as they leered, hurling insults his way. Your fault, selfish, fuck up. You could’ve saved us.

On this particular night, Jotaro was visited by DIO himself, descending his grand staircase with bodies littered behind him as blood raced down the steps.

DIO sneered as he hovered near Jotaro’s ear, whispering pure toxicity into it and trying as he might, Jotaro couldn’t land a single punch.

He was rocked off his feet as DIO kicked him away, knocking the wind from Jotaro’s chest as he toppled to the floor. DIO crouched before him, smirk more and more evident as his voice rose to a thunder.

“It’s your fault, you know? How truly pathetic.”

Just as DIO reached out to grip Jotaro’s chin in his hand, Jotaro shot awake.

His breathing was labored as he moved to sit up, chest heaving as hot, wet tears began falling down his cheeks. Without realizing it, Jotaro had jostled the bed under his weight, waking you up as well.

“Jotaro? Baby, what’s wrong?”

You sat up next to him as you placed a warm hand against his back, rubbing it in soothing circles. He leaned over, curling against your side to rest his head on your shoulder.

“A nightmare, that’s all.” He replied once he found his voice, keeping his eyes closed as he willed his heart to slow.

“What can I do?”

“Don’t leave.”

The solution was simple enough, given you had no intention of doing anything of the sort. You didn’t think you’d ever heard his voice sound quite so small. Smiling despite the situation, you responded, “I think I can do that.”

This time, the kisses you planted against his forehead conveyed everything you wanted to say. I love you. You’re important. I’m not going anywhere.

The messages blossomed in his head, overgrowing and covering the images of DIO and blood, obscuring the anxiety and dread that found a home there. He allowed himself to be lulled back to sleep, comforted by your lips and your warmth against his skin.

Jotaro could tell you’d had a bad day the moment you stepped into his office. As he watched you frown while lingering in the doorway, his mind raced through all the ways you’d comforted him in the past.

Kind words. Soft touches. Forehead kisses.

“Bad day?” He asked, trying to emulate the tone of voice you typically used with him, hoping to convey even a fraction of the gentle, calming lilt you often gifted him with.

All you could do was nod.

“What are you waiting for then? Come here.”

He waved you over, pushing his desk chair out so you could slide into his lap, legs resting on either side of his hips as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Jotaro let a quiet moment pass as he relished in the warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your shampoo.

His movements were awkward as he began moving a hand against your back, smoothing circles into the fabric of your shirt. He was out of his element, you both knew it, but it was exactly what you needed.

“Wanna talk?”

He felt you shake your head against his neck. Letting out a quiet hum, he pulled away from you slightly. As you looked up at him, eyebrows creased in confusion, Jotaro left a warm, loving kiss against your forehead.

Your head returned to his neck moments later and he was quick to rest his hand against the back of your head.

He may not always know what to do, but if nothing else, Jotaro loved you. Plain and simple.

#jotaro kujo imagine #jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro imagine #jotaro x reader #jjba imagine #jjba x reader #jotaro is a big baby pass it on

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

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obssessed ; preferences

warnings — stalking, nonconsensual location/location tracking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, knife, mentions of killing someone (no actual murder)

characters — dark!andy barber, dark!steve rogers, dark!ransom drysdale, dark!bucky barnes, dark!clark kent, dark!syverson, dark!august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH DARK THEMES,, dni if youre not 18+,, just a thought that played around in my mind so yeah. lmk what you think!

masterlist

To celebrate the case they won they held a little party at the office; though Andy wasn’t in a celebratory mood. With his hand clasped together against his lips, his eyes were watching closely his phone screen as he was awaiting a text from his beloved girlfriend who promised to be here. “Hey Andy, we’re popping the champagne already; are you joining us?” Tearing his attention away from the device, he smiled a bit as he told them, “I will once Y/N comes over.” Tess, the assistant who invited him, chuckled a bit before leaving him alone in his office, “Staring at the phone won’t make her come over any quicker you know?” It was something they never really confronted Andy about — almost everyone at the office noticed how he had a firm grip around the girl, but no one dared to question or comment about it because they know how the skilled lawyer would come after them once they do — but silently they understood that if you spoke, let alone looked at her, badly it wouldn’t end well for everyone.

As the door shut once Tess walked away, his intense gaze returned once again to the mobile phone as he awaits a response from his girl. “Baby! I’m here now,” Snapping his head to the source of the sound, he immediately stood up and hugged Y/N as he let out a relieved sigh. “Where were you? And most importantly why didn’t you answer my text or return my calls hm?” Rolling her eyes with how her boyfriend was grilling her as if she was one of the witnesses he had on his case she apologized, “I’m sorry, baby. I got held up at the salon because my mani took longer than expected,” Her manicured nails then raised her phone to show how even as she pressed the button it wouldn’t turn on, “And my phone ran out of battery.” Wrapping an arm around her, he removed her bag and left it by the coat hanger and guided them to where the party was. “I’m gonna buy you a portable charger, baby; that way you won’t ever run out.” Innocently, she smiled and thanked him with a kiss on the lips before saying hello to his colleagues whom she got along well. That way the tracker I put on your phone will always be turned on, he deviously thought to himself as he sipped some of his champagne.

“Another long day huh?” August asked as he peeked his head around Y/N’s cubicle. It was quite odd to say the least — a field agent of his caliber not having his own office instead opting for a cubicle beside one of CIA’s lanky desk jockey? It was one of the questions she asked the infamous Hammer as he settled on the office cubicle beside hers, “Why settle for a tiny office station?” She asked to which he chuckled at as he explained, “Half the year I’m somewhere around the world; so what’s the point of having a big office if I don’t enjoy it all year round?” It was a good, solid point — one she so easily believed without a second thought — but unfortunately it was all a lie. Ever since Walker saw her once at a meeting Sloane held, he was hooked. Initially it was just her beauty and energy, but as he got to know her more he fell for who and what she was. “Yeah, I might need to stay a bit longer than usual,” She replied as she lifted the files she held, pinning the blame on the current target that needed to be researched on. “How ‘bout some coffee then?” Ears ringing with joy at his offer, she looked at him with an appreciative look as she nodded. Chuckling at her reaction, he stood up and trodden over the pantry. Installing surveillance devices on her work computer and cameras around her desk paid off since it allowed him to know everything there is to discover about her — her favorite artists, pet peeves, how she liked her coffee, home address, mobile phone number, even her social security number!

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” She asked after taking a sip of the hot beverage; with a smile he shrugs as he pretends to get back to the work on his computer, “Well it was just a wild guess.” In her mind however, she did find her tastes to be quite basic and didn’t doubt August which was a relief to the field agent. “I think I’ll be going home now,” She announced as she shut off her computer and began to clean up her desk. “Need a ride home?” He knew she did, since he overheard her talking to a mechanic earlier that day about a defect her car suddenly had, “Yeah I do actually, but I wouldn't want to hassle you.” Quickly putting on his brown coat, he was standing up as he fished his keys out, “Nonsense! I don’t mind helping a colleague out.” Conceding, she took up his generous offer with a smile. As they were making an easy-going conversation, Y/N gave her address; but what she didn’t know is that not only did August know by heart where she lived, but he had also paid her house a visit multiple times in the past.

With an arm draped around her shoulder, Bucky and Y/N walked around the farmer’s market; the latter whined endlessly to her boyfriend how she wanted to buy some products. And though the thought of going out in the crowds wasn’t at all appealing to him, the need to make her smile made him go anyway. Leading him up to the different stalls, the former Winter Soldier couldn’t help but chuckle at how she would coo and be all excited for the different groceries, clothes, and figurines. “Slow down, doll. The market’s not going anywhere,” Bucky told her as he tailed behind her as he carried over 10 different bags filled with her purchases. It wouldn’t normally be a problem for him to look after her, but as the path became filled with people and him being preoccupied with the bags he held made him unable to keep a grip on her. With worried, drifting eyes, he was searching for his girlfriend who seemed to have blended right up with the bustling crowds, “Y/N? Doll? Where are you?”

Setting the bags down on a vacant table, he then spotted her standing by a stall that sold her favorite food. His relieved smile was soon being replaced with a scowl as she was talking and laughing with another man. Whipping out the knife he kept on the pocket of his jeans, he was ready to torture the man. But as Y/N turned to him with a wide smile, it had him hiding the knife out of her sight, “Bucky! Look it’s Sam, my cousin!” Upon her introducing who the man was, the knife that was hidden was being kept back into its original hiding spot before he shook hands with the man, “Oh! Nice meeting you same, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.” As they shook hands Sam had given them both a look as he sassed, “I know who you are! This one,” He referred to Y/N by pinching her side as she smacked his hand and giggled, “Won’t stop gushing about you every time we talk.” Seeing how she was clinging to his metal arm as she nuzzled her cheek to his side was all the confirmation Bucky needed; Sam then excused himself, “Well you got to swing by one of our family gatherings, yeah Bucky?” Nodding, they all exchanged farewells before the couple headed to the table where their bags still were — thankfully not stolen. “You shouldn’t have run off like that, doll. Got me real worried for a second,” He gently scolded her with a stern look. Pouting, she defended herself, “I’m sorry, Bucky! I just saw these cute little mason jars, but they were too expensive so I walked away. Then I smelt something delicious so I followed it and it turned out it was my favorite food; but Sam was there so I chatted with him instead.” Ending her enthusiastic breakdown of events with a sweet peck on the lips, he told her, “Doll you know that I would have bought you anything your sweet heart wanted. Just don’t go anywhere without me okay?”

The soft ping on his phone made Jensen pause his movements as he was selecting a movie that you both would watch; eyebrow raising when he noticed that a certain “Steve” was texting you. Opening the text through the software he installed on both your phones allowed him to see every activity you do on your phone — but it wasn’t the only feature it had for it also allowed him to change the texts, emails, and other settings on her phone. A frown graced his handsome features as he read the text, “ Hey Y/N I can squeeze you in on Thursday, at 3pm. Are you free by then?” Displeased, he then sent a text to the guy saying how his assistance wouldn’t be needed any more. And he edited the text Steve sent her to make it seem that it was Steve that texted how he could no longer accommodate her. “Got some chips and chocolates!”

Her excited voice brought his attention from his phone screen to her excited face as she plopped herself beside him. “Thanks, babe,” Kissing her forehead, he sneakily looked over to where she was unlocking her phone and reading the text; noticing how she pouted he inquired, “What's wrong, babe?” Snuggling up to his side after sending a reply, she explained, “Steve said he can’t meet up with me anymore.” As he was rubbing her back, he faked the symphony, “Aw that’s too bad; why did you even need to meet up with Steve anyway?” She did not pick up on the faint hints of darkness on his tone, “He was my dentist! He was going to determine whether I need to have surgery for my tooth, remember?” At the revelation of who Steve really was, the communications and technology expert felt slightly guilty but he was quick to reassure her, “Don’t worry baby I know a dentist who can help you.” Feeling her hum appreciatively against him, she planted a kiss on his cheek as they both focused on the movie; and as her eyes were trained on the screen, he whispered lowly, “You're only gonna be around people I trust, babe.”

There was a reason Sy had chosen a house that was nearly thirty minutes away from downtown — it was so their friends and families would feel lazy or discouraged to visit them due to the distance and time it took to get there. “Where on earth do you need to be today, petal?” Sy’s morning voice huskily rasped out in her ear; they both had just woken up and as Y/N was moving to stand up from the bed, she was being trapped in his muscular arms for a hug. Giggling at how he was being, she rolled around so they would be facing each other, “‘M going out with my friends today — Sophia and Rose have been bugging me about how we don’t hang out as often anymore.” At the mention of her going out and leaving him, Sy’s mood deflated and his eyes went wide; this wasn’t how he pictured this day going. “But petal, you’re gonna leave me all alone in this big house? ‘M gonna miss you so much,” The former army captain whined as she got out of his grasp and heading to wash up in their ensuite bathroom — not before bopping his nose as she reminded him, “Well you chose this house, bear. Plus, it’s only just for a while.”

Sitting up on their bed the man could only cross his arms and grumble, which was interrupted with her phone ringing. After seeing that it was her friend, Sophia, who was calling he then answered it for her, “Hey Y/N! Can’t wait to see you; we’ll pick you up in 20 minutes okay?” Taking the opportunity, Sy then decided to fabricate a lie, “Oh hey Sophia, it’s Sy,” He paused before saying the next parts in a hushed tone, “Y/N won’t be able to make it since she hurt her foot two days ago when going down the stairs. I know she was so looking forward to seeing you. Will do, bye.” With a smirk, the man set her phone back down on the nightstand, just in time since Y/N exited the bathroom, “Who was that, bear?” Making his way over to her, he hugged her as he kissed her forehead, “Sophia, calling to say she’s gonna have to cancel because she’s sick. And Rose was called in to work.” It was clear on her face that she was disappointed because she was looking forward to catching up with her friends, but her boyfriend tried to mirror her expression when in reality he was overjoyed with getting her all to himself. “Guess that leaves just the two of us, petal. Don’t worry, we’re gonna have fun today.”

“Fucking hell,” Ransom cursed as he was speeding to go to where your tracker said you were. He had gifted you a necklace six months into the relationship, and it was costly not just because of the intricate design it has but also because he had put a tracker on it to keep tabs of your whereabouts — not that you knew about it. You both had a fight the night before, and it didn’t end well since it led to the two of you sleeping in separate rooms and Ransom drinking away his misery. So imagine his surprise when he woke up and found how you weren’t in the house and he noticed as well how a duffel bag that was in your shared walk-in closet was gone; the writer thought of the worst possibilities. And his anger went through the roof when he saw how you were at his grandfather’s house; it was one thing that you guys fought, but to involve his family in this? That was bound to be a fucking mess. As he parked the car by the driveway, he stepped out in rushed steps that were slowed down by the two dogs barking and crowding him, “Shoo, get away, mutts!” He scared them away and entered the house, “Alright where is she?” His yell echoed through the walls as Marta who was walking from the kitchen and into the foyer was startled, “Hugh, what brings you here?”

“Where’s Y/N?” Knowing Y/N’s secret, the nurse swallowed nervously as she reluctantly told the truth, “She’s with Harlan at the gathering area.” On his way there he noticed how there were some party decorations — some colorful streamers and balloons — on the walls before he saw his girlfriend who was looking through something on her iPad, “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice caused her to gasp out loud as she looked like a deer caught off guard by headlights; standing up she walked towards him, her hands gripping onto his forearms, “We fight and you end up here to my grandfather to what? Complain and seek refuge?” Though his words stung she chose not to feed onto his anger, “Can you promise to listen out to me first?” Seeing how she was calm and not as mad as the night before, he gulped down and nodded. “When you accused me of cheating on you, it hurt because I knew that that wasn’t the truth,” She paused briefly to monitor his reactions, and she knew that he would then ask what was up with her behavior so she addressed it before being prompted to, “And the reason why I seem to be distant or busy these past few days is because I was planning on throwing a surprise party for you — for the success of your book.” At her explanation he could feel his entire body relax at the relief of him not having to kill anyone; also it made sense to him why his grandfather’s house had some ornaments hanging. Pulling her close to him, he hugged her tight as he kissed the top of her head, “Princess, I was so close to killing someone, you have no idea.” Swatting his back, she laughed at him, “I think you owe me an apology, mister. Not only did you ruin the surprise but you also accused me of cheating on you.” Smirking at her he replied, “I’ll make it up to you for the rest of our lives, princess, don’t you worry about it.” And he meant every single word of that promise; for he knew he wanted no one else but her.

The mission went well since the new agents did their jobs well — even exceeding Steve’s expectations of how they would handle the pressure and what decisions they would make in order for the mission to be a success. As the quinjet landed and they were given the clearance to exit the aircraft, the super soldier frowned when he took note how his girlfriend wasn’t anywhere near the landing pad. She always welcomes me back, he thought. The weight of his duffle bag on his arm didn’t matter to him as the feeling of worry and anxiety about his girl was way heavier. Immediately, he headed to their shared living quarters where he hoped she would be, “Kitten? I’m home,” His voice bounced off the walls as he dropped his bag on the floor and looked through every nook of the room. Now his anger and confusion was through the roof and he then decided to consult, “Friday, where’s Y/N?”

“She’s at the common area with Sam and Pietro, Captain,” As soon as AI mentioned where she was he found himself striding briskly towards her location. If she was with Bucky, it wouldn’t have alarmed him as much. But the Captain had a hunch that Sam secretly liked his girl and had plans of stealing him away from him; while Pietro was a natural flirt and joker. Even just by standing at the doorway he heard his beloved’s giggles as Sam recalled an exaggerated story. “There you are, kitten,” He let out, relieved upon seeing his girl alive in one piece. Turning her head, she smiled widely upon seeing her boyfriend and abandoned her conversation with the two Avengers to run to Steve with open arms. “Steve! I missed you so much,” She squealed as the super soldier caught her effortlessly and wrapped his thick arms tightly around her figure. “What are you doing with these troublemakers, kitten?” He wondered out loud, completely ignoring two offended looks from the said men. “I was bored of waiting for you in our room so I went here,” She was cut off from her explanations when Sam added, “That, and we missed hanging out with Y/N!” Even though Y/N giggled, Steve was trying his best to control his rage; but Pietro wanted to push him further to his limits by saying, “You hog her all the damn time we forget how great her company is!” the only girl in the room squealed as she was being carried off by Steve, “Well I don’t want you around her that’s why I hog my girl around.” Everyone around the super soldier still thought that he was joking and decided to laugh it off; Sam’s voice called out to them once more to tell a joke before they both had fully exited the room, “Yeah? Well why don’t you just lock her up in a secluded house then?” That’s exactly my plan, Sam, Steve smirked to himself quietly.

Clark needed an escape that night; for someone who has inhumane powers the stress of his job at the Daily Planet can definitely take a toll on one person — so he decided to go flying around at night, just to take his mind off things. As he was flying, he sensed trouble and decided to check out what was happening. It was a woman who was being bothered by her ex who was clearly under the influence, “Goddamn it, Alex! I told you I don’t want to talk to you!” Y/N was trying her best to push him away, but even in his drunken state he had a tight grip on her forearms. “Just wanna talk to you, baby,” He sing-songed as he tried to push his body closer to hers. “I think she made it clear that she doesn’t want to,” A booming voice spoke up, causing Y/N to gasp out loud when she saw Superman himself; Alex however grunted at the searing pain on his shoulder caused by the mysterious man, the pain weakening his hold on the girl to the point where he tore his hands away from Y/N to push away the weight on his shoulder. In his drunken state, he failed to piece together how it was the infamous hero in front of him — instead all he saw was a tall, muscular man and decided he didn’t want to have his face beaten up so he just walked away with his arms up in surrender. “Are you alright, miss?” Clark gently asked the woman who felt relieved she was no longer being bothered by her ass of an ex. “I am, thank you.” She nodded and before she could ask how’d she find him he offered, “Would you need help getting home? Just to make sure he won’t follow you again.” He was quick to clarify, in hopes she won’t find him creepy. “I know you have good intentions, but it’s fine. I don’t think he has the balls, let alone the energy, to bother me. At least for tonight.” With that she waved at the hero goodnight before getting into her car and driving into her apartment — but she didn’t know how up in the sky above, a certain pair of blue eyes followed her journey home.

“Hi! You must be the one who moved next door?” Y/N politely greeted the man as she was leaned by her front door. Clark smiled as he adjusted his glasses — suddenly feeling nervous upon seeing her beautiful face once more, “That is me! Though the one who moved next door is quite a mouthful; you can just call me Clark.” As she laughed at his lame joke she told her name, “And feel free to knock if you need anything, okay?” Taking his nod of agreement as a cue that their conversation ended, she entered her apartment. The son of Jor-El II went inside his own apartment that was directly next to hers — he did so because days and nights of following her didn’t satiate his hunger for her, so he decided that perhaps this would be a clean way of easing her into a relationship — and busied himself with organizing his belongings in his apartment. Hearing Y/N’s increased heart rate and her voice raised, he opened his door to check out what was going on; and the sight of her ex bothering her once again. “Come on, Y/N! You need to take me back!” Displeased with how the imbecile failed to grasp that Alex should not reach out to his girl anymore. Letting his rage get the best of him, he walked over and pushed Alex off hard enough he landed on his bum, “When a woman says she doesn’t want to see or talk to you, then you better comply with her request.” Gulping down, he recognized the strength as the same one who grabbed onto his shoulder — and now as he was sober Alex decided to respect her wishes and hastily stood up to leave the apartment building. “Are you alright?” Seeing how Clark stood up for her, it made her reminisce about how she was reduced two weeks ago by Superman, “I’m fine, Clark,” She nodded as she grounded herself back to reality and stared into his concerned, blue eyes, “Thank you, by the way.” As he smiled at her she offered him for some snacks in her flat, which he gracefully accepted. “You know, you’re the second person who helped me get rid of Alex,” She mentioned as she handed him a snack; feigning innocence he tilted his head up as he inquired, “Oh? Who’s the other one?” Taking a small bite of the snack, she wiped her mouth free from the crumbs before replying, “You probably won’t believe it, but it was Superman,” She laughed along with her new neighbor who didn’t find it unbelievable and instead played along as he spoke, “Who’s to say I’m not your personal superhero, beautiful?”

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ddaehyeon · 4 years ago

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。✧ hyacinth; park serim + reader

— pairing: fashion designer!park serim + photographer!reader

— genre: angst, slight fluff, exes au, post-breakup, slightly suggestive (one scene only!)

— word count: 7.1k

— warning: arguments, heartbreak, mentions of anxiety and emptiness

— summary: years had passed since you broke up with serim; life had been continuously patching up ever since. his name had marked several clothing lines, while your studio was well-known in the small city you lived in. who would’ve known that a sight of him on a bus stop would be enough to bring back wounds you thought had long ago healed?

— navi: playlist | video teaser | cravity masterlist

— a/n: my wips suffered from a major slump and this is quite an overdue fic (i also have another overdue fic help) but i hope someone would still at least read this though >< the first ver of this didn't satisfy me and though this ver didn't satisfy me that much, i feel like after rewriting almost half of the fic, this one's better. i'll do my best to pull something better soon!

autumn must be the most magical part of the year. the leaves experiencing a color alteration, scarlets and golds carpeting the ground— a yearly harvest of the earth where everything was gradually being taken away. long gone was the heat of the summer; the chilly evening breeze sure was much friendlier than of winter. the season served as a comforting quilt. it was such a great time for warm drinks that could lift up the mood even for the wariest.

you let go of a breath as you stared at the window, the sun was setting. the color fleshed out in the sky golden, jiving well with the surrounding that was already of the same palette. with an indoor shoot for a seasonal issue of a magazine, it sure was a tiring day. the sound of camera clicks still ringing in your head, along with the hushed talks and chitchats coming from the staff members and the models.

at first, you were hesitant to accept the project. afraid that you’d bump by one of the renowned fashion designers in your region, park serim. but then, you couldn’t just chicken out when a hefty sum was to be paid. the relief you had when you saw that his name wasn’t on the list of designers was almost the same kind of relief you'd have after preventing big trouble from occurring.

“i finished placing back the props in the room.” hyeongjun’s voice was still as bright as it was this morning as if not touched by any fatigue. he was one of the photographers you hired in your studio, offering only fine shots. “i’ll be going home early, just send me a message about what time tomorrow’s shoot will be!”

“thank you, junie.” a smile was on your brim as you nodded on his words, watching him pack his camera and leave afterward.

silence melted in the room as soon as hyeongjun stepped out. alone in your photography studio, you sat on a stool used earlier by one of the models. the room was dimly lit with only one of the umbrella lights open. it was only by then that you realized your thighs were already stiff from the nonstop work earlier. you wanted to go home and just be in the comforts of your bed.

pulling out your phone, you dialed your brother’s number, frowning when it took him quite a while to pick up. was he busy or did he just forget that he was supposed to pick you up tonight?

jungmo would always fetch you by your studio after his working hours concluded. with the two of you living together in the same house, your brother just found it ideal— bringing you to your work every morning and giving you a drive home every evening. it might seem like he was babying you, but it was a gesture you grew fond of.

“y/n?” jungmo gasped on the other line. it seemed like he was outside, music playing in the background which mingled well with the peals of laughter. “shit, i forgot to tell you.”

you raised a brow, questioning his words. “what’s the matter?”

“can’t fetch you today.” you can already envision the pout he had on his lips. “i’m at a party with allen and woobin, catching up with my colleagues. i’ll make it up to you tomorrow, i promise!”

“alright. i’ll just ride the bus then.” it was your turn to purse your lips. you can’t bring yourself to complain about it though. “have fun! just stay in woobin’s apartment tonight, don’t drive!”

“i will, i will,” jungmo replied, a call of his name following. his friends might’ve been looking for him already. “text me alright? get home safely, y/nie.”

at the end of the phone call came another sigh from you. a tightlipped smile braced your lips as you stood to turn off the remaining lights. you retrieved your camera and placed it back in one of the drawers. making sure everything was back to its place, secured; you gave the place one final look. something you’d do every single day before going home. a reminder of the thing you loved the most. a reminder of what could have been.

the sidewalk wasn’t as empty as you imagined it to be, maybe you weren’t used to walking to the bus stop anymore. strangers of different day occurrences exchanged various looks that shared one same element, tiredness.

when the wind blew, fallen leaves danced along with it. the slight coldness making you tuck your hands inside the pocket of the cardigan you were wearing. you loved the cool breeze, but not when you knew you had to stay out on an open shed with it as your companion. cold weather could be your friend, a company for a better evening sleep. but rather a harsh fellow when you had to be alone, when loneliness can easily be injected to your senses.

tracing the path, a memory went to play in your head. way back in college, this was the same sidewalk you’d walk in with your ex-lover. a camera on your hand while he had a roll of satin in his arms. it was such a usual view for the two of you as you talked about how the day went, ranting about the monotonous lectures, gushing over how you missed each other’s company and how you wished that the two of you could get back to your shared apartment as soon just so you can snuggle on the couch.

you glanced at the sky, the cloud hiding the few scattered twinkling stars. a faint smile spread upon your lips, only to disappear when your gaze went back to the bus stop. the male that passed by in a form of fleeting memory earlier was standing right in front of you as if fleshed out from your mind. a lavender-colored paper bag was hanging on his arm, the logo of his product line delicately stamped on the middle. his phone was resting on his other hand, if he was scrolling through sns or texting someone, you weren’t sure.

the magical feeling he used to offer long gone, your stomach twisting into several knots. a cold sensation went down in your spine as a familiar tug came to pull your heartstring. he’s back? what is he doing here? he lives here again?

your thoughts were loud in your head, but none of it was pulled out loud. each word ending up as a lump in your throat. the air was thickening, your heart beating fast, not out of excitement, but out of the clashing thoughts that left you so nervous and confused. it had been years, how come a single sight of him made you feel like all your resolutions are gone? how did a single sight of him become enough to shatter the glass that protected you from the ache that night had caused you?

it was cold. but no, it was no longer because of the autumn breeze.

“serim?” the name was uttered in the same way you would before everything came crashing, yet it held a much weaker tone. you can’t even remember the last time your voice came to wrap around the syllables of his name.

the male turned his head to look at you, a brow raised as he stared at you. no obvious emotion, his eyes held no recognition.

and his reply? it sent a shiver down your spine, your stomach flipping in a horrendous manner.

“who are you?”

for a moment, the air caused such a nauseous feeling— thin and hard to inhale. it was only three words, yet it was powerful enough to serve as a punch in the gut.

how can he forget?

how can he forget how the two of you first met?

not that it was a very momentous event, just a regular struggle faced by two college students that needed someone else to accomplish a project for a major subject. there were no butterflies involved, nor did sparks fly the moment you met. regardless, up until now, that day burned fresh in your mind.

“i know someone from that department,” woobin said without even looking at you, his eyes focused on his book. though you weren’t sure if he was really paying attention to the words written there as he kept on diving in the conversation every now and then.

“and who might that be?” the dreadful task of having to pair up with the design department had been inhabiting your mind ever since it was given to you. pressure rising as you saw your other blockmates having no hard time getting themselves out there and communicating with the department they weren’t really accustomed to. you still have a month and a half, you were sure you can still make it. it was just a photoshoot anyway, featuring your partner’s designs.

“park serim,” woobin finally answered as if he had to think hard of the person’s name. “i think no one had asked him to become their partner, he’d be available to do it.”

desperate to get over with the task, later that day, you found yourself by the catwalk the design students would take. it was a path that connected their building to the main gate directly. your building wasn’t exactly far away from theirs, but still of a different building. with their building equipped with supplies and machineries for final products, yours were of computers, lightings, and screens.

you stared at your phone, his instagram profile opened. earlier, you already took the pleasure of checking his works out and without much filtering, him as well. he sure does love taking pictures of himself; something that could work perfectly with him being your subject. once satisfied, you left him a dm that was probably one of the most awkward sentences you had ever typed in the entirety of your life.

a notification popped out as you look at your screen, which was shortly followed by another. it was only of common courtesy to follow him before asking him for a favor right? you did that before messaging him and now he followed you back and replied to your dm. unlike you, he didn’t spend much time wandering in your profile. well, as if he had so much to look unto aside from the sceneries and some stories posted.

‘you were the person woobin was talking about? i’ll be out in two minutes. see you in the catwalk.’

it wasn’t too long of a duration, you allowed yourself to simply jump from a social media to another, mindlessly scrolling and liking some post every now and then. only lifting your head up when a wave of students began getting out of the establishment. most were holding mannequins with unfinished clothing attached to them, some were holding rolls of fabrics you weren’t sure what to call.

with squinted eyes, you tried to look for him among the crowds. woobin said that serim was a fashion design major, so he’d probably be holding the same thing as the other students that came out.

and he was.

leaning on his shoulder was a mannequin, asymmetrically dressed in silk. it wasn’t sewn yet, only supported by sewing pins. an arm wrapped around a roll of what seemed to be linen of pastel blue color. there was also a paper bag hanging on his arm which seemed to have some extra fabric and maybe some other supplies.

you walked towards him with a wave to which he gave you a confused look at first, the frown melting away when he realized that you were the one who messaged him not even an hour ago.

“you’re y/n?” he asked, merely to confirm.

you nodded your head and offered a hand in carrying the paper bag. something he didn’t refuse to. “so…” unsure of how to bring up the means of meeting with him after his class, your voice trailed.

“what do you need anyway?” he supported your words as he traced the path of the sidewalk. “take pictures of me or take pictures of the clothes i make?”

“both.” a chuckle left your lips, laced with nothing but sheer abashment, at the same time mentally cursing this project. you were okay with taking pictures, but the negotiation that comes with it wasn’t a task you were so used to doing.

serim hummed, saying an almost inaudible ‘i see’ before taking a big step and stopping in front of you to do a curt observation. his gaze trailing from toes up to your shoulder. “i’ll agree to do it, if you’ll model for me for a project.”

blinking your eyes multiple times, a baffled frown came to mask your countenance. “what?”

“i need a model that will wear the dress i’m doing by the end of the semester,” serim uttered nonchalantly, proceeding to turn his back to you and resume walking. “that would be quits.”

“i’ll do it,” you said, despite still being hesitant. having close to zero knowledge about how such a presentation would work, you were so close to disagreeing. but then again, it would only be a good way to repay him, right? and perhaps the other fashion design students would ask you of the same thing if you try to team up with them.

turning to look at you, there was a curve that formed on his brim. “that’s a deal then.”

how can he forget how the two of you confessed to each other?

two months. it took two months of random meet ups, daily conversations, and occasional hanging out to get to know each other. the awkward messages of checking up on each other’s side of the project turned to asking about each other’s day, sharing rants about academic life or life in general. the occasional hanging out turning to planned dates and spontaneous ones when the two of you both have the time to spare.

you’d usually stay in his unit as he worked on the dress for his project, a clothing that perfectly suits your figure. late night talks induced by the slightest energy given by coffee the two of you had clung into in hopes of being able to finish what was due.

it seemed like time flew by and before you knew it, you were in the backstage. serim was pacing back and forth, more nervous than you were. he wasn’t the one that was going to the stage, but sure his body was restless.

“are you alright?” you asked him once the two of you were left alone in the dressing room.

this was enough for serim’s movement to come to a halt. even when his eyes landed on you, it was obvious that his mind was floating. in fact, it even took him hot seconds before he was able to commit to a verbal response. “i am.”

“you are?” a smile broke out of your countenance which was eventually followed by a chuckle. “are you sure with that?”

your laughter was adequate to ease his nerves a little, a curve appearing on his lips. “i am.”

one of his classmates who was in charge of the flow came knocking to the door, signalling that you should be on standby.

“i’ll do my best,” you said, walking toward the door. it would be a definite lie to say that you were not at all nervous. a deep breath taken before twisting the knob, stopping when serim called you. it was covered with a bit, yet noticeable hesitation that it made you cock a brow for a moment.

“good luck.” it was all that he uttered, along with a gesticulation of him raising both fists. though serim’s mind spoke of different words, words he had little courage to let go of. at least not yet at that moment.

you gave him a smile, nodding your head afterward. “thank you.”

and off you go.

roaring crowds and camera clicks; the auditorium set up for the use of the fashion design students as they exhibit their works through their chosen models. formerly, you’d find yourself among the crowds, snapping pictures and admiring the clothes done by the other students. but this time, you found yourself clothed in a floral print silk-blend asymmetrical dress designed by serim himself.

the lights were blinding, being always part of the photographers, you were quite accustomed with how you were part of the persons behind the camera lense. serim was in the dressing room, watching the runway from the screen that displayed the live broadcast. some of your friends were among the crowds, your older brother even telling you before the show started that he’d be sure to take pictures of you.

fortunately, the few days of practice didn’t go to waste, no major mistakes happened when you modeled serim’s design. perhaps the only problem was you were a little stiff, something too trivial for some audience to notice.

as soon as you stepped by the backstage, serim’s proud smile welcomed you. unable to rest in the dressing room once he saw you getting out of the stage, he practically ran to meet you behind the curtains.

his eyes were filled with adoration, not just for the dress he finished making, but for the overall beauty you radiated. without much thought, he walked closer to you, soon wrapping you in an embrace. tight, yet gentle.

“you did well, y/n,” serim whispered, not letting go.

a soft chuckle was heard from you, your cheeks burning. “you did well,” you corrected. “please, it’s your design.”

“thank you.” releasing you, a smile lingered on his visage. “i’ll make you a better dress in the future.”

“you don’t have to, but thanks,” you replied before the two of you sunk into silence. regardless of how the surrounding was of heavy music and cheers, peace had found its way to emanate in the dimmed part of the area.

no words spoken, yet feelings poured when serim leaned closer. his lips easily capturing yours enough to make your heart pound in your chest, louder than it did while you were in the catwalk.

serim broke the kiss, his lips still close with yours. his eyes were of another glow when he uttered a set of words, familiar yet foreign. “i love you.”

once again, you were under his spell. soft kiss turning into a sloppy one once he guided you to a more secluded area. it would be such a waste to rip the dress off given that it was an original design, yet as the person who sewn each part of the clothing you were wearing, serim had his way to resolve the small dilemma.

the surrounding was silenced, your body frail under each of his touch, breath taken away, chest heaving. sure, it was a night you won’t be able to forget.

how can he forget about how the two of you practically lived with each other for years?

the exuberance exuded while the two of you carried several boxes into an empty unit you called home. maybe it wasn’t really about the place, but it was who you were with. his arms served as a shelter. his hand caught tears of both happiness and sadness. his lips pressed affection that no one else could offer. everywhere with serim was of comfort, of tranquility— a home.

living with another person, being under a single roof wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to adjust to. throughout the first few months of living together, your head was filled with memories of sheer trial and error as the two of you tried to learn the curves. this included adjusting for each other or at least compromising for what the other likes that the other doesn’t. silly mistakes became such a fond memory.

the smell of burnt food that wafted in the air when the two of you decided to stay on the balcony while cooking dinner. astonished by the stars and the almost endless stories that passed on both lips the meal you were preparing was left neglected. that night, the two of you shared bitter food of dark exterior, quite hard to swallow. but the laughter that filled the house after the incident lifted up each other’s mood. despite the bad-tasting meal, it was probably one of the best dinners you had in that apartment.

it didn’t end there. who would forget about the laundry disaster that rendered one of serim’s white long sleeves saturated with colors you weren’t sure what to call. the mixture of forget-me-not blue and azalea pink stood as the most distinguishable pigment along with the other colors. serim only let out of a chuckle at what occurred, even joking that maybe the two of you could start a business of dying white clothing in such a way.

the best memory thus far was a late-night run by the convenience store when the two of you were chasing a morning deadline. a grumbling stomach that broke the mutual silence the two of you exchanged, along with a suspecting look that ended up with laughter.

“let’s buy some food,” serim suggested, removing the tape measure from his shoulder and settling it to the mannequin.

you hit save on your laptop, the editing could wait for a few minutes.

pulling yourself off the chair, you gazed at him with a smile. it wasn’t a surprise that he had the same beam, as bright as the morning, regardless of how the evening was already crawling onto the whole city. sometimes, you wondered how a simple smile could give you so much energy. what kind of magic does a beam flashed by the person you love hold?

a few snacks picked up by the convenience store; a bag in his hand, your hand on the other as the two of you walked back to your unit. the evening sky and the soft gush of wind amplifying the peacefulness provided by the city. no words were exchanged, yet the silence was enough of a word.

deadlines momentarily escaping the mind as you allowed yourself to be engulfed by his presence. his soft voice breaking the silence, the phrase that left his lips drew a curve on your lips. “i love you, y/n.” you weren’t looking at him, but you could perceive the smile he had. “so much.”

“i know,” you replied.

serim’s steps became slower as he looked at you, waiting for the actual response. with a tilted head and shining eyes that reflected your figure and the street lights, his gaze didn’t waver.

a chuckle left your lips, finding yourself lost in his eyes for a moment. “i love you too, serim.” you squeezed his hand, cueing him to continue walking. “so much.”

sighing out of content, a radiant smile decorated his lips.

at that moment, the two of you wished nothing more but just to be next to each other for as long as life would grant you.

how can he forget about your first anniversary?

it wasn’t grand, just the two of you sitting by the balcony. the bouquet he bought abandoned on the dinner table as the two of you gushed over plans you were sure were realistic enough to be achieved. your eyes twinkling with mirth, a lifetime with him sure was the ideal one you’d want to spend.

“y/n,” despite being just beside you, serim called.

you looked at him with a brow raised, catching his eyes on yours. “mhm?”

a smile simply spread onto his lips before he broke the gaze. his hand seeking for an item inside the pocket of his hoodie, a small box retrieved afterward. there, a necklace sat. the pendant was of a ring that was not entirely decorated with fancy stones, rather a lone blue sapphire stone was on it.

“the pendant is a promise ring,” serim explained before scooting closer to you. his hand reached for the back of your head while the necklace rested on your skin. he locked the jewelry on your neck, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead after.

you were silent the whole time, not because you didn’t like the gesture. but because you were sure words wouldn’t be enough to express the satisfaction and light feeling that was blanketing your heart.

serim had a faint smile as he admired the necklace for a moment. just like you, his heart was in an ocean of peaceful joy. lifting his head to look at you directly, he gave your lips a light peck. “i’ll buy you a better one once we’re ready for it.”

“thank you.” your countenance mirrored the same expression serim had— of joy and serenity. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too.” serim leaned in for another quick kiss, swift yet lingering. “i can’t wait to spend a lifetime with you.”

the evening droned on and on with the two of you staying by the balcony, exchanging conversations about the future. two hearts in one home, seemingly able to find the path where both can hold each other’s hand. minds filled with dreams where the other can also be spotted. a considerably spacious studio apartment became the foundation of your plans and dreams.

aspirations that soon became the neglected cause of why your relationship with him gradually crumbled down.

how can he forget about your very first fight?

gazes that held no definite emotion, silence that cut through the air— it was all an unfamiliar experience, hard to swallow. something that you weren’t able to forget easily as it was the first time you’ve ever seen serim with such a cold expression.

the coaster of shows on the television had long passed, a few recaps played. something that wasn’t really able to get a hold of your attention. your mind drifting elsewhere and the few notifications appearing on your phone were the only ones that managed to pull you out of your daze momentarily.

“where’s serim?” for the nth time that day, you asked. the room was quiet with only a few chatters from the screen in front of you. the evening was growing older and older, but you haven’t received any message about serim's whereabouts. neither had he sent you a message the whole afternoon.

worried, you opted to stay up and wait for him. even prepared a meal that can be easily heated so he can have something to eat once he arrives in case he hasn’t eaten anything yet.

with the door clicking, you were quick to get off the couch. the faint footsteps signaling you right away.

“you’re finally home,” you said, a smile easily located on your brim. only for it to melt away at the sight of serim’s stern look. his gaze piercing through, enough for chills to trace your spine.

he walked past you, not even offering you the regular hugs and kisses he would do every time he’d arrive. all that was left were cold stares. something you attempted to break. and heck did you regret doing so.

“why haven’t you been answering your phone? have you already eaten?” the worry you had accumulated coming through in waves of questions.

a sigh was emitted out of his mouth as he went to get himself a drink. it seemed like a verbal response was not an option for him since he continued to ignore your questions. at this point, it was as if there was no one else in the room. it was like you weren’t there.

“did something happen, serim?”

a minute. it was all it took for the entirety of your relationship to come to an unknown turn. the curve strange, it crawled to the skin with such a frigid touch enough for your stomach to flip horribly.

“can you give me a break?” serim hissed, a glare shoot in your direction. his voice growing power word after word. your breath was taken away, how can words suffice to make you feel so small? he placed his glass on the sink, the item almost meeting its demise. he turned to look at you once again. “can’t you see, i’m tired?”

“i waited for you.” the words spilled out of your lips, disappointment hugging your tone.

“who told you to wait for me?” serim snarled and before you knew it, you were already standing on the same page. similar expression, different cause. yours were anchored in concern, while his were of fatigue from the whole day of heavy workload. those seemed to have lulled both of your senses, blinding each other.

“oh well, i was just worried about you because you didn’t send me a message the whole afternoon up to this point.”

“do i really need to report my actions to you?”

“no, but you have to at least tell me if you’re going home late.” your voice gradually softened, a tear held back.

no, you can’t cry. no, not in front of him. no.

“i was worried,” you broke out. but it wasn’t enough for his fumes to dissolve. like gasoline poured into flames, each of your replies only intensified the exasperation boiling in his stomach.

“i’m going to rest.” serim sigh was audible as he stormed off to your room, leaving you with tears in your eyes.

a minute.

it only took half a minute for everything to fall out of its order. that fight wasn’t the last one and each passing day, the unit you once called home was stuck with unfamiliarity.

it was no longer a home.

how can he forget about that night?

cold meals by the table had your eyes fixated on them. the date encircled in red, a supposedly special day that turned bitter. different from how you used to spend it before—of laughter and warm touches— serim wasn’t there. he was far too involved with projects that your shared unit only became a short shelter. words were barely exchanged, yet alone gazes. you still sleep on the same bed as him, but no warmth was offered.

you weren’t sure which was better, to continue living with him even if it felt like you weren’t living with him or to have him gone in your life for real. regardless of the turns that occurred, the continuous erosion of your relationship, you couldn’t find it to yourself to let go. still tied by your attachment to the former serim.

a sigh left your lips, desolated gaze trailing on the table. you tried. but it seemed like those attempts were futile. it takes two people’s efforts. you can’t revive a relationship alone.

switching place, you went to the living room and sat by the couch. the place dimly lit by a lone lampshade. the city lights filtering through the window. the air gradually thickened around you, it held your throat in a vice grip. the photographs displayed by the shelves were foreign to you, despite how it was simply you and serim. it was like you were staring at completely different people. smiles had long been taken away, touches had melted, flutters subsided— all that was left was a terrible feeling of helplessness. something that seemed to guide you to nowhere. you were lost.

before, you were sure of how the story was to be written. how the chapters were to unfold. but right now, you weren’t even certain what would be on the next page. it was like the next ones were torn from the spine, gone. oh hell, you weren’t even sure what page you were on right now or if the story was bound to be written in the first place.

serim’s arrival went unnoticed at first. only until you heard the clink of the glass meeting the sink did you turn in his direction. an empty gaze was earned and for some reason you found yourself offering him a faint smile. a small gesture packed in pain that was quick to course through your senses.

sighing had become his way of greeting. dark circles under his eyes and the disheveled look emanated how his work had been weighing him. but your mouth was closed regardless of how you wanted to speak of reassurance and praise. it was strange, the inability to speak of warm words around him. why were you so held by fear?

“serim,” you called, breaking the floating silence.

he looked at you, eyes deep like he was examining a piece of fabric. it was enough for your stomach to churn. the stillness continued after your call. you weren’t sure how to continue it; it was as if his name was unnatural in your tongue. not only was your breath sucked, but also all the possible words had dissipated.

yet again another sigh as he tore his gaze away, stepping towards the bedroom. “i’m so tired, y/n,” he uttered, setting a line for you to not cross onto. “very tired.”

resurfacing on your brim was a smile. your eyes weren’t exactly skillful of lying though as tears soon gathered on it. heart hollowed in emptiness as if a scream would echo on its wall. likewise, your voice decided to betray you— shaking. “serim, i’m getting tired too.”

for a swift moment, serim tried to come up with an answer. but just like you, comforting words seemed to be an unfamiliar language. even aware of how a look would be inadequate, he only stared at you. his eyes don’t speak of words nor radiated comfort— it was vacant. lowering his head, he carded his fingers on his hair before letting go of a breath.

serim finally stepped inside the bedroom.

and that was how the two of you parted ways.

how can he forget about you?

it went on and on in your head, the question continuously striking.

a gush of autumn breeze pulled you out of your daze. serim was still looking at you, his eyes slowly lightening with recognition. a few blinks and he spoke. “oh, wait.” he tilted his head to the side. “y/n?”

you weren’t exactly sure what kind of answer to give, but you gave it your best to offer a faint smile. ��yes.”

still— despite how other people were walking on the sidewalk and how vehicles passed by the road, the surrounding seemed to come to a stillness you didn’t ask for. denying and pushing away the feelings you’ve long ago tried to bury and made yourself believe that you’ve healed from only brought a new wave of pain. as if you were its child, sadness came to hug you.

just in time, the bus arrived as if to save you from further drowning in emotions you didn’t wish to engulf you in. to your surprise, serim also boarded in. while you chose to sit somewhere just nearby the driver, he went to the last row.

usually, your rides on the way home were the most relaxing ones. a time to just stare at the window and watch the night spread into the city. it will always be accustomed by jungmo asking you on and on about how your day went and also sharing about how his day went. but your brother wasn’t around for that kind of support right now. and you can’t blame him for it. you can’t blame anyone for this unexpected meeting with the person you never knew you’d ever meet again.

the ride was sickeningly slow, all you wished was to get home and allow your voice to echo in your room. to release the emptiness if it was even possible to empty something that was already vacant. the sky held no comfort. its color dissipated and all that was left was an empty canvas that like a broken record, played memories. it was silly how despite those quick memories popping in and out of your mind, questions still managed to penetrate.

serim was living in another city, why did he ride the same bus? was he to meet his new lover? maybe to meet an old friend?

or did he perhaps mean to meet you? this was a guess you despised. the hope it brought that maybe an answer for all the questions formed that night were to be given tasted bitter in your mouth and offered restlessness in the heart.

an urge to talk to him surfaced, but then you asked yourself why. why would you want to talk to him? for what?

despite being curious about the reason why he left that night, a certain fear crawled onto your senses. the fear of knowing.

what could knowing his reasons possibly bring you?

the time when the two of you loved each other wasn’t of the best timing. two newly graduates seeking career growth, wanting nothing but to achieve various goals. those were dreams drawn with the other person placed as a part of it. however, during the process of achieving those, that same person where the aspiration was rooted gradually disappeared from the mind. the path the two of you promised to take together came at crossroads and you ended up taking something different from what he preferred to go to.

at first, there was a powerful yearning that made the two of you grow more fond of each other. but it was slowly replaced by numbness towards it, making love such a foreign word.

you understood. but it wasn’t something you had fully accepted.

a familiar shed came to flash on the window, your stop nearing. and when the vehicle finally came to a halt, you gave serim a final glance. he was looking at you, not moving from his seat. dismissing the contact, you walked down the bus and began tracing the sidewalk with heavy steps.

disappointment curled into your stomach when you arrived near your house, realizing that the recurring questions will not be answered. however, fate played its game. anxiousness arose when once again you heard your name wrapped around serim’s voice.

you turned to look at him, his lips hesitant to let go of a word.

serim was also in deep thoughts, mind all over the place despite how he already had the resolution to talk to you, not to explain and justify himself, but to apologize for the damage done.

“i’m sorry for that night,” serim began, the initial words already clinging into his chest, weighing down. “i should’ve been more honest with you and trusted you more with my struggles.”

there was nothing serim wanted but to prove himself worthy of you. achieve things that could make you be proud of him and deem him as someone who deserves you. working up to late hours, diving into designs in order to perfect his craft. the thing was, he forgot that you already loved him even when he was simply that serim. that you loved him as park serim.

blinded by the goal, the mean diminished. as he was too caught up with it, he was no longer striding towards it for you, but for himself.

“it was selfish of me to decide for something we both should be deciding for. i left that night thinking it was better that way without even considering how you will feel,” serim continued, his voice weakening. he lifted his hand as if to hold you, but stopped midway. it fell to his side as he breathed in. “i’m sorry. i’m really sorry.”

“i was hurt, but you were probably hurt as well.” the way those words left your lips ever so calmly surprised you. “it wasn’t the most pleasant experience, but i hope we both learned from it.” a smile became evident on your visage. “promise me one thing serim, do not make the same mistake with your future lover.”

“i will not,” serim replied.

both of you never really imagined the end of your relationship and as the page of it was torn years ago, an ending was deemed impossible to earn. closing a book would never be that easy, but some stories were meant to end— yours included.

“also, this is for you.” serim handed you the paper bag he was holding. “i told you years ago that i’ll make you a better dress, and here it is. i figured that i wouldn’t be able to keep the promise laced on the ring i gave you before but i at least want to have one of my promises kept.”

you looked at the item for a moment before turning to serim once again. “thank you.”

“i also want you to know that i truly loved you.”

never at once did you doubt serim’s love for you. the thing about it is that people will grow and know love from a better perspective. know how to best keep it. know how to best show it. but it will not change the fact that back then, you felt that it was love.

serim had a single flaw and that was to hold everything to himself to the point that those created a wide gap between the two of you. the distance far enough that reaching his hand became impossible despite how you wanted to hold him.

and maybe during that time, parting was the best solution. and up to this point, it was too.

“it’s nice seeing you again, serim.”

“likewise, y/n.” a genuine smile crossed his lips. “goodbye?”

“goodbye.”

tonight, you gave him a piece of your heart. it was his, to begin with. whatever he was to do with it— keep it, throw it, crush it— it was a decision for him to make. keeping something that shouldn’t be there would only bring further destruction, it’s way better to have an empty spot in your heart rather than keep a damaged one.

the breeze embraced you. the goodbyes uttered were to serve as a beginning. there were new questions that formed and you knew there were tears that were yet to be spilled. but it was a start. opening a buried wound would never be pleasant, but it was way better to open it yourself than have it bare you.

staring at the newly planted hyacinth in the neighboring flower bed, you let go of a sigh. they will bloom in the spring. and you hoped that you would experience the same.

#cravitywriters #cravity imagines #cravity oneshots #cravity scenarios #cravity x reader #cravity angst #cravity fluff #serim x reader #serim #this has been in my drafts for quite a while...#finally got that push to post it u_u #cravity

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Text

Fighting Blind, pt 19

Masterlist here ~ thank you @heatherbel for the beta!!

Warnings: shameless angst.

I sleepwalked back to my apartment. The noises of London made me jump at first, my movements jerky. Had I locked up the storeroom? The museum staff entrance? I didn’t know.

I didn’t much care.

I had lain on the floor of the storeroom for some time, clutching the axe. Sobbing my throat raw. Willing it to send me back to before. Willing it to let me look into Pero’s eyes just one more time.

Willing whatever magic that it had before to let me hold him, just for a moment, feel his heart beat, bury my face in his neck. Hear his voice.

Just one more time.

I didn’t remember taking off my filthy robes and changing into the spare outfit I kept in my locker for nights out. The nylon fabric felt incongruous; I’d become used to thick, soft robes. My bra chafed.

I let myself into my apartment. Everything was where I’d left it.

My phone chirped in my bag and I pulled it out to see a text from Emma: Don’t stay too late! Reality TV beckons.

It was our little joke since she had introduced me to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, six months ago.

It felt like five lifetimes ago.

I put the phone to sleep, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and dragged myself to my bed, looking ahead of me but not seeing.

I lay down, fully clothed. The date on my bedside clock showed that here, almost no time had passed. I’d been deposited back to almost the exact moment I'd left.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. My eyes reported back a view of the plain plaster, but in my mind I saw Pero’s last moments. The length of thick red ribbon around my wrist felt unreasonably heavy. I twisted the fraying ends with my right thumb and forefinger.

If I could have cried some more, I would have.

I felt wrung out, a cloth squeezed too hard and then left out on the line until it sagged, dry as bone, moving only at the whims of the wind.

Eventually, I slept, and when I did, I dreamed of my husband’s big, soulful brown eyes, his scarred hands on my skin, the whisper of his melodic Spanish accent in my ear.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. My arm spread out across the cool, crisp sheets, reaching for the warmth of a broad Spaniard who had been killed in battle thousands of years ago.

I clutched desperately at a pillow that did not smell of him, and I waited for dawn to come, silent and dry-eyed, a husk of myself.

The next day, I called in sick.

Emma left me six texts and three voicemails. Marco tried to call all afternoon. I ignored them both, and I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, hardly moving except for water and bathroom trips.

Eventually, I slept.

No dreams came.

*****

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a sharp rapping on the door jerked me from my half-sleep, half-grief stricken stupor.

“Fuck off,” I moaned to the empty room, my voice paper-dry, cracking. “You’re not Pero. He’s gone.”

The clock showed a whole day had passed. It was just after ten a.m.

The pounding got louder.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, got up wearing yesterday’s clothes. Walking felt like dragging my feet through a carpet of molasses.

I yanked open the door without checking to see who it was.

Emma stood on the other side, and she took me in with wide eyes, her lips parting.

“Um, oh my God,” she breathed, taking in my wrinkled clothes. I probably stank. “What happened? Flu?”

I gazed at her, my very best friend, trying to summon joy at seeing her face again, when I never thought I would. Instead, I just shrugged.

And then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, and I let my face fall into the familiar feel of her shoulder, and I cried.

Two cups of tea later, I had unloaded the entire story to Emma, who had listened without interruption, various expressions parading across her elfin face, but, who now almost certainly thought I had experienced some sort of intense mental break.

I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t.

“Well,” she said finally, with the tone of someone speaking to a very infirm person or a baby; “You can’t go back to work in this state, can you?”

I gaped at her. “You want me to go back to work now?”

She tugged my hand until I reluctantly stood up from the sofa. “You’ve not got a lot of choice. There’s a man in the staff waiting area and he says he won’t leave until he sees you. Came all the way from America.”

My heart sank further still. I just heard America, not Spain.

Emma herded me into the bathroom, stripped me off as I stared sightlessly at the wall, turned on the water, shoved me under it.

I watched, unfeeling, until the spray hit the red ribbon around my left wrist, and then a cry raked up my throat, and I slid down the tiled wall, curling in on myself, pressing the damp wedding bracelet to my lips, wishing myself back in China. Back in Pero’s arms.

Wishing I could hold him just one more time.

Just one more time.

*****

Emma didn’t say much on the way to the Armouries. What could she say? From her point of view, her colleague had called in sick one day and appeared to have suffered an intense psychotic episode.

I half sleep-walked off the tube, up to the museum. People passing probably thought I was taking very strong drugs.

Emma made me a very strong cup of tea, so strong that perhaps the spoon could have stood up by itself, and steered me to my desk chair. “Sit. I’ll bring the visitor.”

I stared into the mug. “Do I have to? Please don’t make me.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, her face creased in sympathy, brow pinched with worry. “You can go home right after. I swear. Okay? You get one more day of whatever... this is, and then I’m taking you out on the town. London at our feet. Or, you know, twelve hours on the sofa, with popcorn and Ru Paul. Okay?”

I nodded, just to get her to leave.

Time passed; I wasn’t sure how much. I stared at my PC’s Welcome to the London Armouries screensaver, and wondered how much trouble I would get in if I hurled my computer out of the window.

Then I remembered I didn’t even have a window in this office.

I smiled without humour.

A soft knock at the door made me look up. “Come in,” I called, with zero enthusiasm.

The handle turned, and I expected to see Emma, but I didn’t. What I saw made me topple off my chair.

A man with Pero’s face stood in the open doorway. His hair was lighter, cream caramel kissed with autumn, tousled. Scruff adorned his upper lip and the same strong jaw as Pero’s.

The same soulful, deep brown eyes.

The same striking profile, same nose I’d loved the hook of.

I stared at him as all the noise was sucked from the room. My ears rang.

He hurried over to me. “What the- Are you okay?” he asked in a husky-edged, drawling baritone, California with just a lick of Texas.

I stared at him wordlessly. My mouth opened and closed, until I finally squeaked out, “is this some kind of joke?”

The man stepped back, brows furrowed. “Funny. I’m pretty sure that's my line.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw, and that was when I saw it.

The circular mark on the root of his thumb. The depiction of infinity; the spiral, the serpent eating its own tail. Not black, like ink, but the colour of melanin.

My heart lurched into my throat.

This time when he offered me his hand, I took it.

Our palms touched, and something electric chased down my arm. The stranger jerked as if I’d struck him, slapping his hands over his face as he reeled back, hitting the wall and sliding down it. I rocked back on my heels, staying on the floor.

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment that stretched, shaking, his shoulders hunched in.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had changed. Darker, somehow. His mouth just a little scowly.

My heart jumped like it had been supercharged, because there was my Pero. I was frozen to my spot.

“The dreams,” the man said, very slowly. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams. But they’re.. memories, aren’t they?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“They’re my memories. But also… not mine.” He stared into the distance for a long moment, his face pale, wonder sketched on his features. “And this.” He ran the index finger of his right hand over the birthmark on his left thumb. “You did this.” His eyes sparked hazel fire, accusing me of this insanity.

And he was right. I had done this to him.

I held his gaze, my heart in my throat, heavy. “I gave it to you. Before.”

The stranger’s hand eased over his abdomen, resting where Pero had been gored open by Tao Tei teeth. “It feels… fuck, it feels real.”

I swallowed, my eyes burning, stomach bottoming out. Tears streaked down my face and I let them come, my stomach cramping, and for an agonising moment, it was like losing him all over again. In my mind’s eye I saw the blood pulse from him, his life slipping away and me crouched over him, helpless to stop it. “It was real.”

We sat together in silence for, I don’t know how long. I both ached to touch him and feared it. Feared the modern texture of his open-flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Feared the rough denim of his jeans.

And how would he smell? Not of lemon oil, leathers or woodsmoke. How could he?

“I’m Zach,” he said into the dragging silence. “Zachary Pero Wellison.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zach smiled lopsidedly, pushing a hand over his face. The face that was Pero’s, and yet, not. “So… I guess with the addition of…” He waved his hand between us. “...this, I’m sort of…. Both of us? I’m Zach, but I somehow have the memories of….. Pero.” He pressed a fist to his head and then popped his fingers in a “head exploding” reference. “Is this really happening, do you think?”

I laughed, without humour. “At this point, I don’t think I know.”

Zach huffed out what might have been a laugh. “The shrink sure as hell didn’t cover this in PTSD counselling.”

His deadpan delivery made me smile for the first time since I’d woken up back in 2019.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by voices that lingered and then, after a minute, moved on. My gaze flicked over Zach, my stomach heartsick. Pero, my Pero, was in there, and yet, he wasn’t.

This was impossible. Everything I had ever learned told me what Zach and I were experiencing just did not happen.

But.

“You’re military?”

He nodded, shrugging off the shoulder of his flannel shirt and pulling up the right sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the bottom half of an intricate tattoo on his shoulder. “Semper Fi. Marines. Buzz cut grew out.”

I ate up the extra view of his body, greedy to know where he would be the same, and where he might be different.

“Glad I never saw anything like… the Tao Tei in Afghanistan,” he said shakily, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

I held his gaze. “It was an experience. Are you.. I take it you don’t still serve?”

“Nope. Three tours and an honorable discharge, two years on the street, but for the past five I’ve had a steady job. A roof over my head.” He summed up his life so flippantly; his delivery really reminded me of Pero’s nonchalance about death.

I sell my sword for coin, I sleep when fighting has exhausted me, and one day I will die and return to the earth. Simple, don’t you think?”

“Um, so... can I get you a coffee?” I asked, swiping my hands over my eyes. It felt like a monumentally banal thing to say seeing as this man now seemed to hold every memory my dead husband had ever clocked up, but I didn’t have anything else.

“Got any whiskey?” he half-laughed.

“I wish I did.”

“I’m good. Drank about a gallon of it at the hotel. Nerves. I, um…” He lifted those cocoa eyes to mine, and for a second, a heartrending second, it was Pero looking at me. My pulse tripped. “This is... fuck, this is a lot. I really…” He clenched his hands into fists, drawing my attention to that birthmark, the same lines, lines I had drawn, only in that brown shade of skin pigment. “I wanna touch you. Or he does. I don’t know. But… can I? Is that okay? I can’t think about anything else.”

Twin zings of excitement and fear skidded up my spine. “Um… okay.”

Neither of us moved.

Zach laughed nervously, standing. He towered above me as I sat in the corner next to my computer chair. I let my gaze travel up his body, long legs in faded blue jeans, a flat stomach under that white t-shirt, the lines of his torso delineated by the open plaid shirt.

His eyes were soft as he offered his hand again, palm out flat.

This time, when I took it, no lightning. Just a warm touch. His fingers sure and confident around mine.

He tugged me gently to a standing position, until we were only a foot apart, then he let our joined hands fall to our sides. We stood together like that for goodness knew how long, looking into each other’s eyes; his so familiar and yet so new.

Zach lifted his free hand to gently skim his thumb along my jaw, and just like that, the air changed. Each breath I took seemed supercharged as I gazed into his big, soulful eyes. “Zach,” I whispered, and it didn’t feel wrong.

He slowly lowered his head to mine, his eyes constantly flicking to meet mine, checking it was okay. Checking I was okay.

And then just before our lips met, a shudder went through him, and he whispered, “Cielo,” with just a hint of Spanish melody, and there was no way in hell he could have known that word unless-

And I yanked him down to me and kissed him with all the love and yearning and grief in my heart, and he kissed me back. His hands came up to spread over my back, and the warm, solid wall of his chest felt divine.

Perfect.

Bliss.

I opened for him, and he licked into my mouth, his teeth scraping just a little, and I welcomed the tiny hurt, pressing closer into his body. His lips were Pero’s lips, his little shaky inhale the way Pero would sometimes suck in a breath when we kissed. I shoved my hands beneath his open plaid shirt, felt the play of muscle on his back, under the soft t-shirt, and it was like holding Pero. I sobbed into Zach’s mouth and he drew back, frowning.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I -”

“I know,” Zach whispered, stroking my hair back. “I was there. He - I - loved you … He loved you. More than anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling. “This isn’t happening. I would give anything to have him back. Anything. But this is… it can’t be real.”

Zach cupped my cheek, his eyes dark, stormy, and for a moment it was my husband looking at me. “Ask me something only he would know.”

I opened my eyes again. This was like living in an alternate reality of the film Ghost. But real. I felt the floor under my feet. I felt Zach’s palm against my skin, gun-callused, the same way Pero’s had been sword-callused.

“What did he say to me, when we... when I…” The words dried up on my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t want to share, which made no sense. “The first time,” I finished lamely.

Zach dropped his gaze from mine, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Cielo. Heaven. I will not last,” he murmured, that Spanish melody sneaking, incrementally, into his tone.

My pulse spiked.

No one could know that.

He met my eyes again. “Fuck. I know. This can’t be happening. But it is. Unless we’re both suffering the same delusion.”

I half-laughed. “Unless. God, Zach. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about…. all this.”

“I’m not. I wanted answers to these insane dreams, to the burning feeling on my birthmark, and however absolutely batshit those answers are... I had so many moments over in Afghanistan, wondering what I was fighting for... where my life was going. Always thought - it’s so stupid, but always thought I was just waiting for something. And maybe that something is you.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh, Zach.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like just my twisted little secret anymore.”

“I-” My heart pounded. “Secret. Oh my God, secret. The axe.”

Zach’s gaze shot to mine, wonder sketched on his handsome features. “I know how to open it.”

*****

I’d never run so fast before. I skidded out of the office, Zach on my heels, past some very surprised visitors and down to the artefact storeroom. I could only hope that no one had been there since the day before yesterday.

Zach stood silently by, but I saw his hands clenched into fists by his side as I swiped my keycard.

It was still there.

The door slammed behind us as I lurched on to the floor, picking it up, uncaring about being without cotton gloves.

Zach held out his hands, and I passed it to him. He gazed at it in wordless awe, his eyes poring over it, fingers stroking reverently.

Then he turned it over, pressed his thumbnail into the slice representing Pero’s scar in the carving on the bottom, and the handle turned, loosening.

I gasped in shock, surprise, joy.

Zach gently pulled the haft loose to reveal a shallow compartment in the metal handle, two pieces of parchment and a loop of crimson lying inside, like the finest of treasures.

With hands that shook, I took out Pero’s handfasting bracelet. The edges were frayed, the fabric so old it had discoloured, but it was his. I lifted it to my lips, felt my heart wrench from my body.

Zach had set the axe down and held the pieces of parchment in his palms. His eyes were wide as he breathed, “I wrote this. I mean, he did. But I remember writing it.”

I paused, the dusty, faded bracelet pressed to my cheek. “What?”

He showed me the yellowed parchment, the writing faded beyond recognition. “The words are almost gone. But I was there. I - he - wrote it while you slept. On the handfasting night.”

The world spun. I braced myself up on one arm. “Would you read it? Please.”

Clearing his throat, Zach closed his eyes, and to my amazement and joy, to my sadness and gratitude, Pero’s voice left his lips.

Querida

You sleep as I write this. My wife, in our bed. Your body and soul more beautiful than I could ever have wished for, in this life certainly. I am not good with words, mi vida, but you must know that you hold my old, scarred heart in your hands.

I think perhaps, you always have.

If you are reading this then I have gone with God, but whatever He may have planned for my old bones, I will carry you with me always.

Until we meet again,

Yours,

Pero

When he’d finished, tears streamed unashamed down my face, wetting my jeans. I couldn’t have cared less.

Zach’s face was drawn, too. He set the two pieces of paper aside and opened his arms, and without a second thought, I crawled into them. He rocked me gently, and I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in; he didn’t smell of Pero, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood and coffee, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Thankyou,” I whispered into his shirt. “Thank you, for letting my hear his voice, just one more time.”

Zach said nothing, just nodded. He understood. He always would.

We sat that way for I didn’t know how long. Eventually I roused myself. “Zach?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It’s still me. I think,” he drawled, American again, but that husky-edged voice curled its way into my heart.

“What’s the other piece of paper?”

He lifted one arm to pluck it from the floor. “It’s… what is this language?”

I recognised the penmanship. “Oh my God, it’s Gaelic.” I scrambled off his lap, reaching for my phone. This piece of parchment had been wrapped inside the other, and the words had been mostly preserved. I took a picture of the text, uploaded it to the translation app a colleague at the British Museum had developed. While still in beta, it nevertheless contained many ancient languages.

Within a few moments, a translation appeared, and Zach and I gazed down at the screen as I read aloud:

Jade

The thought that this message may find you in a future many, thousands of years from now gives me pause, I must admit, but since fighting those… Monsters, I find nothing surprises me.

We gave your husband a warrior’s wake. That I swear to you. Lin saw to many of the details personally. After your rooms were cleared I found a note in his hand and I enclose it here.

We captured a Tao Tei in the days following Tovar’s death. We fed Ballard to it. A fitting end for such a waste of air, I think you’ll agree.

And after that, the strategists found the Queen. We think we’re halfway to learning how to be rid of them. Once and for all, I pray.

A year has passed since you and Tovar left me. As I write this, Lin sits beside me with our twins, Jade and Pero, named for the man who saved Lin’s life, and the woman he loved beyond the boundaries of time.

I don’t know what will happen when we die, but we will keep Tovar’s axe in our family as best we can. Lin says she trusts the spirits to take care of it, and after all I’ve seen here, I can’t disagree with her.

She wouldn’t listen even if I did.

We miss you.

With love,

William Garin

*****

A/N: One more chapter to go on this journey. Thank you, thankyou, thankyou for all your love, comments, messages, reaction gifs, theories, THANKYOU x 1000000000. Thank you for indulging my insanity.

Tagging: @babybelou @theravenreads @vanillabeanlattes @alienprincesspoop @knittingqueen13 @lackofhonor @holographic-carmen @thewayofthemandalorian @buckstaposition @thegreenkid @agirllovespasta @chews-erotically @apples-of-february @mstgsmy @songsformonkeys @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @buckysalefty @readsalot73 @restingnurseface @opheliaelysia @emmy-dandiliom918 @prdsdjarin @a-seeker-of-imagination @havenforafrazzledmind @badassbaker @thewaythisis @kindablackenedsuperhero @keeper0fthestars @starlight-starwrites @agentpike @alldatalost @littlemissthistle @cryptkeepersoul @stylelovechild @maryan028 @seawhisperer @emesispo @beccaplaying @hdlynn @jaime1110 @marydjarin @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrsparknuts @pinkzsugar @cutepurplehedgehog @ksgeekgirl @skdubbs @roxypeanut @usernameistooshort @tortles

#fighting blind #pero tovar fic #the great wall fic #the great wall au #pero tovar au

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detectiveinchicago · 4 years ago

Text

Please, don’t go

Fandom: Chicago Fire

Pairing: Blake Gallo x reader

Requested by: @tomanyfandoms04

Warnings: Medical Stuff might not be accurate.

Word Count: 1.806

GIF IS NOT MINE.

Being in a relationship with a firefighter was being willed to have your heart on edge all the time. Every time he went out on a shift Blake knew that you had gotten used to letting it be because you were sure that if you thought about it every day you were going to freak out. You had been dating for over 10 years; you had met in high school after Blake had lost his family in a fire when he was twelve. Blake spent most of his time at the fire station or training. He knew in his heart that he was destined to be a firefighter and you supported him; you were always there for him. When you started studying finance, he was also there for you during the long study nights. You were always happy for each other’s achievements; it was their nature.

Less than a year ago I had entered a new station “It’s my dream job baby” he had told you. The problem is that he was too intrepid and impulsive for his own good, but despite your reservations, he had been doing very well. You remember how proud you were of him when he ran that race to raise awareness about lung cancer in the fire department.

You had talked about getting married, of course, but it never seemed like the right time. Blake, however, was trying to find that moment for many months. He was sure he loved you and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, so why wait? Even though Blake had been looking for the right time for months, it never seemed to be and the ring was still in his pants pocket, either you were both exhausted when you came home from work or you were at Molly’s or you had something to do. It always seemed like there was something more important to do.

“Have you seen this?” A coworker had asked you while pointing to the television where there were images of a fire in a mattress factory that firefighters were trying to put out. You hoped that Blake was not there, but unfortunately you knew that was not the case. The fire was so big that they had called all the units, so most likely he was there. At least she hoped he was at least being careful.

It was after seven when you arrived to the apartment you two shared. You left the keys on the front table next to your coat and your wallet when your cell phone rang.

“And it is?” you said, rubbing your eyes. You needed a shower.

“(Y / N)? This is Chief Boden I work with Blake Gallo” a raspy voice spoke to him on the other end of the phone. Was Blake hurt? It wasn’t the first time he’d hurt himself at work, that’s for sure.

“I know who you are” You answered. You had to ask “Is Blake okay?”

“We don’t know” Chief Boden replied across the line with a sigh “We are in Chicago Med waiting for news”

“I’ll be there” you answered before cutting off the communication and taking your things again.

You could feel your heart leaking out of your chest. You weren't sure you wanted to experience that pain again. Never had Blake’s superiors answered “We don’t know” whenever they called her it was “He’ll recover in two weeks” or “He needs to rest and stay home.” Then you would just take leave from your work to accompany him, Did you know how anxious he got when he had to stay home?

When I arrived at Chicago Med, the uncertainty did not improve. Nobody had news about Blake’s condition. And everything got worse when a doctor came out to talk to Otis’s girlfriend, one of Blake’s companions, and she cried. You needed no more negative thoughts, so while everyone was mourning the death of one of them you quietly slipped away. You sat by the hospital door and started looking around. The place seemed grim.

“Is it going to be okay, you know?” You turned to look and saw Captain Casey, you had seen him before in Molly.

“Why do you say that? You just lost one of yours,” you answered acidly, not wanting to be so daring “I’m sorry”

“Don’t apologize, I know it’s not the best time,” he replied leaning a hand on your shoulder “You just have to have faith”

“Sometimes faith is not enough” You responded by getting up and shaking your clothes “Blake and I have been together for over 10 years, I know what kind of relationship I have but I can’t help but get nervous” Captain Casey looked at you with a smile of sympathy as you reentered inside. Otis’s girlfriend kept crying and you couldn’t stop the bad thoughts from coming back.

“Blake Gallo’s family?” asked one doctor entering the waiting room

“That would be us” you replied to the doctor and Captain Casey smiled at you. You knew that this was how fire stations worked, they had each other backs inside and outside work.

“Blake lost a significant amount of blood, he had the explosion from the front and we are monitoring his organs and vital signs, he has several burns on his torso and back, his lungs have also been severely damaged so we are monitoring to see how he evolves. I’m sorry, I wish I could give you better news” The doctor explained to you.

“At least he’s not dead” you thought, but then you realized that that was not a great consolation

“Do you want to see him? You can take turns one at a time” He asked and you nodded. The doctor directed you to the ICU and showed Gallo’s door before heading to the nurse’s unit.

He looked so calm, so peaceful. It just looked like he had gone to sleep, but you knew it was the effect of the drugs. He had bandages around his chest and he was intubated, but he was still your Blake. The one who always made you smile, the one who was always by your side when you were sad, the one who massaged you when you were tired and the one who cradled you until you fell asleep at night. Even though his body looked like it had been in a war and his face looked unpolluted, you assumed it was because she had been wearing his helmet and protective mask. You sat on the empty chair and took his hand; you weren’t sure she could feel it, but still; you stayed there; you took advantage of all the time you had before letting your friends pass.

“Please Blake, don’t leave me, we still didn’t have enough time together, I need to have more time to love you and to feel your love, I need you, please don’t leave me now”

Three days after Blake was in the hospital, one nurse gave you the few belongings he had in his uniform before the explosion. Of course, he had his cell phone and his watch, but he also had a small box. So as she sat in the chair next to Blake’s bed you opened the bag, he had some missed calls from you on his cell phone and when you opened the box; you found yourself with an engagement ring. You took him in his hands and you cried; you cried because you expected him to wake up so you could get married. You wondered how long he had been keeping that ring.

“Blake, open your eyes, I want to marry you. Please don’t leave me now, I want us to get married and invite all our friends, I want to have that special day with you, I want you to tell me again how much you love me, for please don’t go “

You spent every day in the hospital and when you weren’t there; you were bathing and then sitting again next to Blake’s bed or in the waiting room. That was your routine for the last week. Sometimes you brought your laptop to do some work tasks to distract yourself. His colleagues from the station had stopped by to see him several times.

“Do you ever stop working?” God, you thought you’d never hear that voice again. His voice was scratchy, but it was his voice. You raised your eyes from the computer and started crying. You hadn’t cried in all those days but at that moment it felt perfect to have a little sentimentality “Don’t cry” Blake told you as you approached him.

“I’m crying because you’re alive” You replied “And because I love you so much” you added while he grabbed your head.

“How long was I asleep?” I ask while you wipe your tears.

“About a week” you informed him while you brought him a glass of water

“That’s been a long time” he replied, drinking some water, “I thought I was going to die, (Y / N)”

“You need not explain to me” you said, taking his hand between yours

“I thought I was going to die without seeing your beautiful face again,” he said caressing your cheek “I thought I was going to die without telling you how much I love you, how much I need you and how much I want to make you my wife” you approached him and gave him a little kiss on the lips

“You wanted to ask me to marry you and you had no better idea than to go around carrying this ring in your pocket?” you asked with a small smile on his confused face “The nurse gave me your things a few days ago, I don’t know how you didn’t lose that ring” you said

“I’ve been trying to ask you to marry me for months” Blake replied scratching his head embarrassed “I bought the ring at Christmas”

“Christmas? Blake, it’s May” you said raising your eyebrows

“It never seemed like the right time” he defended “We were always busy”

“Blake, I would have told you yes even if you had proposed to me in the shower” you informed him “I want to marry you, I want you to have a great wedding with all our friends, I want everything with you, I love you Blake”

“I want everything with you (Y / N) since we were teenagers I knew that the only thing I wanted was to see your face every morning and be by your side”

#one chicago #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire one shot #chicago fire #chicago fire imagines #chicago fire x reader #blake gallo #blake gallo imagine #blake gallo one shot

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ibelieveinharrystyles · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter Three: It’s Complicated

Forever? Masterlist

1st February 2016 Ashley loved celebrating birthdays, she especially loved celebrating Harry’s birthday. On the morning of the first day of February she pulled herself out of bed and found her phone to send Harry a video of herself dancing to Stevie Wonder’s rendition of happy birthday. It was easier to do when she still lived with her mum because their house was considerably bigger than her new flat in London. Being from the North of England Ashley was naive when she started house hunting, but eventually she managed to find a small flat in South London that had decent enough tube connections to allow her to get to work each day. She had also managed to make it her own, making the most of the available space, each room was incredibly small, but that was how things worked in London. She was set to be at work all day and then she’d have to face the inevitable joy that was rush hour as she traveled into North London for Harry’s birthday meal.

Following breakfast she rummaged through her wardrobe looking for something she could wear to work, but would also be appropriate for Harry’s meal. She was still yet to tell Harry about the baby and her choice to keep it, so she thought tight fitting clothes were out of the question. Eventually she settled on a grey chunky roll neck jumper which she paired with black jeans and her trusty leather jacket. Her hair was a mess as always, she didn’t even attempt to curl or straighten it, so decided to opt for a simple but effective top knot.

“Morning sunshine!” Ashley called as she sat at her desk, across from her new found friend Toby, he was one of those effortlessly fashionable people who looked painfully good in literally anything. The two of them were doing the same paid internship and shared a mutual appreciation for Colin Firth; they spent every lunchtime together, Ashley swiping through Toby’s tinder matches to find him a suitable match, whilst Toby continued to talk about his failed dates, this week's disaster was Roberto.

“How are you so awake when it is so early?” Toby sighed, spinning on his office chair.

“It’s called getting nine hours of sleep you melon.”

“I love it when you get all sarcastic, makes me realise I’m not actually as cynical as I thought.” Toby told her as she tapped away on her computer.

Whilst on their daily lunch break Ashley and Toby stopped off at Starbucks, “What can I get you love?” the barista asked her.

“Just a cheese and marmite panini and tea please.” Ashley replied as she handed over her cash.

“Cheese and marmite? Are you trying to insult me?” Toby asked in disgust before ordering his salad and cappuccino.

“You aren’t allowed to be rude to me, I’m pregnant remember, besides it's one of my odd cravings, along with chicken nuggets dunked in peanut butter.” She told Toby sarcastically, the only people who knew about the baby were her mum, Gemma and Toby, she hadn’t intended to tell anyone at work until further down the line, but using dry january as an excuse not to go on a work night out didn’t seem like a feasible excuse, so she felt it necessary to tell him the truth. She was still yet to find the right moment to tell Harry, or Anne for that matter, she didn’t want to have to tell her best friend that her first child was born out of a loveless night of lust, well in fact there wasn’t even any lust on Ashley’s behalf.

��What ya thinkin bout pet?” Toby asked her as they took their usual seat in the window.

“All sorts, whether I should buy a crib or wait a few months, whether or not I should tell my best friend I got pregnant after a drunken mistake.” Ashley explained, biting her nails the way she always had when she was anxious.

“Whoever this elusive friend of yours is, I’m sure he’ll still care about you the same way whether or not you’re pregnant, so stop being so hard on yourself, besides babies don’t stay that small forever, in a few months time your belly is going to be the size of a beach ball.” Ashley hadn’t told anyone at work her best friend was in fact Harry, she didn’t want people to think she got a free pass just because she was best friends with pop sensation Harry Styles.

As soon as she entered Leicester Square Station Ashley regretted her choice to get the tube, it was packed, even though on the streets of London there was still a cold chill in the air, somehow the underground remained its warm and sweat inducing self. She held onto her bump with one hand, while the other had hold of the pole, not wanting to face palm on a tube full of people. Since moving to London Ashley was often successful at wrangling a seat, seeing as it was pretty obvious she was pregnant, it had taken her a while to adapt to the bluntness of most Londoners, growing up in Holmes Chapel, life moved at a much slower pace, people stopped for a chat and it wouldn’t in anyway impact the progress of their day, but here everyone was in a rush, living in their own little bubble.

Harry’s restaurant of choice was fancy, very fancy, when Ashley arrived they took her coat from her and led her to the table where Harry, Anne and Gemma were sat with several other people she didn’t recognise, so assumed they were colleagues and famous friends of Harry’s. “Happy birthday Haz!” Ashley cried as she hugged her best friend.

“Thank you petal.” he whispered into her hair, swaying her from side to side, he was dressed in yet another Styles signature look, a loose white shirt which was only buttoned half way, so his bird tattoos were peeping out, paired with black skinny jeans and chelsea boots

“This is for you,” she handed him the gift bag, Ashley never knew what to get Harry, if he wanted something, frankly he was in the position where he could afford it himself, there was no need for Ashley to buy him anything fancy, so instead she decided on a leather bound notebook with room for all his scribbles and ideas. “Twenty two eh? Pretty sure someone’s written a song about that.” She smirked, shooting Harry a knowing glance as she took a seat opposite him, beside Gemma.

“You alright?” Gemma mouthed, to which Ashley nodded, being the generally caring and compassionate person she was, Gemma had accompanied her to the twelve week scan, and offered her services as a general source of comfort, because in Ashley’s eyes she was the next best thing to Harry.

The food was posh, and Ashley had always lacked a refined palette, the poshest food she’d ever had was when her dad took her for tea and cake at the Ritz, so she opted for what she felt most comfortable with, steak. Conversation was buzzing amongst the table, Harry had lots of questions for Ashley, he hadn’t seen her since Christmas and wanted to know all about her first month working at Capital. “Some champagne for you sir.” The waiter placed the bottle on the table in front of Harry and a champagne flute in front of each guest.

Harry stood up, clearing his throat, “I’d like to say thank you all for coming tonight, it means a lot to have all my favourite people in one room, so cheers!” Harry told the group before popping the cork, he made his way around the table to pour everyone a glass, eventually getting to Ashley, “

I don’t want any thanks H.” She told him softly.

“Oh come on Ashley, it’s the first day of February, dry January is over so you’ve got to have a drink.” he insisted.

“I’m fine H, I don’t want one.” She replied.

“Just one, a little one.” He pushed.

“Harry leave it.” Gemma told him sternly.

“Why are you getting all defensive all of a sudden Gem?” He asked, placing the bottle on the table.

“If she doesn’t want a drink I just don’t think you should pester her about it.”

“Harry I wasn’t doing dry January, the real reason I haven’t been drinking is-” Ashley muttered.

“You don’t have to do this, not now, not if you aren’t ready.” Gemma assured her.

“What’s going on? Why are you two being secretive?” Harry questioned, the several glasses of wine he had consumed, clearly taking effect, on his normally rational state.

“I’m pregnant.” The silence was almost deafening, the light conversations around the table had stopped, Ashley and Harry looked at eachother like there was no one else in the room, she hadn’t wanted to tell him like this, she was going to tell him when she was ready. Harry sat back in his seat, twiddling his thumbs, “I think I best leave you all to it, thank you for having me,” Ashley whispered before standing from her chair, she left some money towards the meal on the table, took her bag from the chair and left the restaurant, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Gemma glared at her brother as Ashley darted out of the restaurant, “Well done Harry, you handled that with real compassion.”

“What did you want me to do? My best friend just told me she’s pregnant.” Harry replied.

“For Christ sake Harry! She’s the one who is going through all of this, and yet all you can think about is your bruised ego.” Gemma told him bluntly, the raised voices drawing unwanted attention from other customers in the restaurant.

“You two need to calm down.” Anne soothed, placing her hand on Harry’s arm, “I’m sure she had a valid reason not to tell you love.”

“Harry, be the friend she needs you to be, go after her and apologise.” Gemma instructed him.

London was dark, as you would expect, it was early February after all, Ashley made her way towards Highgate tube station, the winter frost biting at her skin as she walked. She entered the station, rummaging through her pockets for her oyster card, “Ash! Wait.” She turned to see her best friend, panting heavily as though he’d run a 100 metre sprint, the station wasn’t busy but he had drawn some unwanted attention to himself. “I’m a dick.” he sighed as he walked closer to her.

“Little shit actually.” she replied, a small grin appearing briefly on her lips.

“What I mean is, whatever happens, whatever you have to deal with over the next few months, I’ll have your back, forever.” He assured her, holding onto her elbows, so as to steady her.

“The reason I didn’t tell you was because I thought you’d think I was a failure, for fuck sake I’m nearly twenty and I’m three months pregnant and the father is a twat who currently resides in Malia and probably beds a new girl every night.”

“I don’t think you’re a failure, out of everyone I know you’ve got your shit together, you knew you were pregnant when you came to London, but you still did it, the idea of being here alone didn’t phase you and I admire you for that.” Harry told her, “You’ll be a great mum, and I’ll be an even better uncle.” Harry chuckled.

“I’ve got another present for you if you want it? I think you’ll like it more than what I actually got you.” Ashley rummaged in a bag, pulling out her twelve week scan, “That’s your niece or nephew in there.”

Harry grinned eagerly, his dimples becoming more prominent than usual, “Can I keep it?” he asked her, unable to stop smiling.

“Of course you can.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry I’m such a little shit.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing the top of her head, “I’m going to look out for you two forever.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles best friend fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #best friend harry #harry blurb #fine line #treat people with kindness

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17caratfics · 5 years ago

Note

69+57 jeonghan: where you were having a really really really bad day and cant wait to come home to home to him and be smothered with his love and also some sexy rough sex uwu thank you hehe so i guess its a mix of everything? angstu fluffy smutt??? - requested by wngjr

69. “We need to talk.”57. “Just get home as soon as possible, okay?”

Warning: Explicit Content

The article you saw on your phone was the absolute last straw and it took nearly all of your willpower to smile through the last set of photos and not break down. You knew that it was inevitable. Models were always scrutinized and there were constantly so-called fashion critics who seemed to know better and had the sharp tongues to pass along their belief.

The latest article was one of doubt, doubt that you could be the new leading face for a global brand because you had just started in the industry and wasn’t considered a universal beauty. You had unique features that worked well with clothing and a bright smile that seemed out of place on the runway but had still had the fashion designers fawning all over you, desperate to have someone different represent them.

And yet, despite all this, being a newbie and being different meant that you often got the cold shoulder from your colleagues and disbelieving smirks from photographers whenever you made a minor mistake. Normally, you used your optimism and self-confidence to make it through the difficulties but today has been particularly awful.

You spent the whole day going from shoot to shoot, almost running late because the photographers decided to change their schedules and conveniently “forgot” to tell your manager. By the time you arrived, you had been subjected to berating comments and justified anger. To make matters worse, you couldn’t find the right size clothing and had to resort to shoots that required artistic covering.

The busy day passed in a blur and you forgot to have lunch, only eating when your assistant shoved an apple in your hand. The article came out right in the middle of a particularly difficult shoot and immediately, on set, someone had passed it out, subjecting you to obvious ridicule.

There was a ping and a notification lit up your screen. “Baby, we need to talk.” You didn’t know why but the text from your boyfriend had your stomach sinking and you tossed your phone in your bag, fearing the worst.

When finally, the cameras were off and you were changed into your normal wear, you had the courage to pick up your phone only to see three missed calls. What could be so urgent that Jeonghan had to call you this many times?

“Hello?”

“Oh thank goodness,” and all was better when you heard the relief evidence in his voice. It mustn’t be anything too terrible if he was worried about you. “I was on the computer, all excited to read the new article, and I’m so angry at what they said about you. But I’m just worried that you’re going to take it too hard.”

“So you read it too,” you responded thickly. The unshed tears clogged your nose and made your voice hoarse. It was too painful to say more.

“Love, you know that you were chosen by the stockholders of the brand, and who else wants to make more money than them? If they didn’t think you would be making them money, would they choose you? Besides, I love you, and even if you don’t have the high cheekbones and the thin lips, or whatever, I still love you. You’re still the most beautiful woman in the world to me and I can’t wait for the whole damn world to see.”

Shortly into his soliloquy, you were already crying. There really was nobody else better in this world than Jeonghan. Suddenly, all you wanted was to be in his arms again and have him shield you from the world’s ugly gaze with his strong arms and soft kisses.

“Just get home as soon as possible, okay?” You sniffed an assent and blew him a kiss. It took a few deep breaths to calm down and you patted at the tears on your cheeks, willing them to dry before he saw you.

Jeonghan had candles and your favorite cinnamon buns on the counter when you walked in. You inhaled deeply and he picked one up and brought it to you. “I figured you haven’t eaten yet so take this for now. I ordered take out.”

You bit into the sweet treat gratefully and he watched you devour it before taking your hips in his hands and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Mmm, so sweet. Come, lets take a shower and get you all de-stressed.”

He had set up a warm bath and you slid into the water only to have him kneel behind you and bring his hands to your shoulders. “Join me?”

Jeonghan chuckled and placed a kiss on the nape of your neck. “I still have to get the food.”

You let out a slight pout but closed your eyes and allowed him to pamper you. His fingers kneaded at the knots on your shoulders and traveled down your back and towards your breasts. You twisted your head to kiss him and he chuckled, letting you brush your lips across his jaw and his cheeks as he continued to touch you gently.

A deep heat was building up in you and you shifted in the water, desperate for more. The rude vibration from his phone on the sill of the bathtub interrupted you and you sighed as he pulled away. “Food’s here. Do you want to rinse off and join me?”

He gave you a lingering smile as you pouted up at him but nodded anyway. Jeonghan chuckled and blew you a kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs, babe.”

Moments later, you slid on a robe and joined him in the dining room. He had an array of pasta and soups spread and you looked for the salad but he tsked. “Definitely no healthy food today. It’s all about self-care tonight.”

You let out a bright smile as you dug into the carbonara, enjoying for the first time that day, the warmth of food. “Thank you, Jeonghan.”

He clinked his glass of white wine at you and winked. “Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”

After the food has been cleared, you stretched your arms out towards him and he chuckled as you made your way over. You engulfed him in a hug and placed your head against his shoulders. The steady beating of his heart calmed you and you stifled a yawn.

“Tired already?” You looked up at him to see him with a slightly raised eyebrow and an amused grin dancing across his lips.

“Not particularly, just happy.”

“Good, that’s the point.”

Memories of what was supposed to happen earlier lingered in your mind and you placed a kiss against his chest, kissing until you found his nipple through his thin shirt. Your hand reached down to palm him and you smiled happily at the groans leaving his mouth.

Taking greater liberty to reach down his pants and stroke him, you pressed closer and felt his grip tighten around you. “Alright, let’s get you to bed, you little vixen.” He picked you up and you jumped into his ready arms, allowing him to carry you down the hallway to your bedroom.

The moment your back hit the bed, he was on top of you, removing his shirt and tugging at his sweatpants. You undid the belt of your robes and he moaned at the sight of you. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed his soft kisses and gentle touches on your skin. Just as he pressed a kiss to your pulse point, you opened your eyes and looked at him. “Jeonghan, fuck me please. Hard.”

At first he seemed surprised, probably wanting to pamper you to end off the day. But at your request, he smirked and sucked harshly on your neck, hard enough to hurt but not quite enough to leave a telling mark. His hands parted your thighs easily and he settled himself between you.

He ran the tip of his cock up and down your folds, pressing into your clit and watching you arch your back. Your lips opened and he pulled you up onto your knees and he grabbed onto your hair. “Suck.”

You whimpered around his cock, desperate for more. You ran your tongue over his head and licked a line down his shaft, taking more of him in as you went. When he finally hit the back of your throat, you let out a moan and his grip on your head became tighter. Jeonghan gave you a few minutes to adjust before thrusting his hips into your mouth, allowing his cock to hit the back of your mouth each time.

You swallowed a little, gagging and choking, but desperate for more. Your legs spread and the hand that wasn’t steadying you against his hips went between them to touch yourself. You were so wet that sliding in two fingers at once wasn’t difficult.

He watched as you touched yourself and sucked him off, the tears running down your cheeks and the shivers of pleasure and kept whispering praises. The compliments boosted your confidence, long trod on in the industry you were in, and you brought your fingers to his mouth, wanting him to clean you off.

He laid you down gently and complied. You watched his tongue swirl around your fingers and desperately wanted his tongue on you. “Baby,” you whimpered. Jeonghan knew exactly what you wanted but wanted to hear you. “Can you eat me out?”

He let out a hum of satisfaction and inched down to suck on your clit. He lapped at your juices and brought two fingers into you, widening them to spread you out. You gasped from the pleasure and was soon cumming on his tongue and fingers, your hands buried deep into his hair and back arching off the sheets.

After you shook and tried to pull away, he chuckled and wrapped your legs around his waist. He slid inside you easily and, remembering your request, started thrusting into you hard. You let out tiny screams as the sensitivity from your previous orgasm and the beautiful pleasure of every thrust had the desire burning in the pit of your stomach again.

Jeonghan was merciless, taking you from behind and grabbing your hips to steady you as he plowed into you. You buried your head into the pillows, needing the release. He bit a mark into your shoulders and you clenched around him, desperate for one more orgasm.

When he had you on your back again, his thumb found your clit and you cupped his face. “Cum inside me,” you told him, wanting to feel him fill you and to be filled with every part of him.

“Fuck,” he let out a tiny groan and rubbed at your clit, eager to have you come undone first. When you began to shake and whine, he gave a few more rapid thrusts before stilling and moaning. He placed a hand on your stomach and rubbed you as he filled you and your eyes fluttered closed.

He gently laid on top of you and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him to you as he stayed inside you. “I love you,” you whispered, blessed to have him.

“I love you too, my super model,” he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

#jeonghan #Seventeen #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan scenarios #Smut #drabble game

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swiftiesimonriley · 5 years ago

Text

dark passenger

pairing: stenbrough warning: murder, breif mentions of past abuse and drug use summary: stanley uris has it all. a gorgeous boyfriend, a beautiful view of the atlantic, and his dream job of blood splatter analysist. he’s made a name for himself by helping to put away some of miami’s most deadly serial killers, but what his colleagues might never crack is that he is the most dangerous one of them all. a/n: the dexter! au is here!! let me know if you wanna be tagged!

"Please, please you don't have to do this!" A woman yells out, her cries falling on deaf ears throughout her large home.

Her husband left the night before for a business trip, leaving her alone for the weekend. The last thing she remembers was coming home from work and placing her purse down before the world went black.

She tries to pull against her restraints, to her what looked like plastic wrap, which tie around her chest, legs and lower stomach, binding her to her dining room table. A strap of plastic wrap keeps her head still on the table, only being able to use her eyes to look around her grand dining room.

Whoever was doing this to her covered her whole dining room in the plastic, leaving no inch uncovered.

The sound of heavy footsteps startles the woman, her heart rate accelerating as the figure gets closer.

"Please, I'll do anything! You don't have to do this to me!" She screams, hoping he has some sense of mercy.

"You see, I kind of have to do this," her attacker says firmly, moving to stand at the head of the table so he can look at her face to face.

The first thing she notices are his deep green eyes, which have no sense of life behind them. She shudders as he brings a small blade down and cuts her cheek, using a pipet he had in his other hand to extract some blood and place it on a glass slide.

"Why are you doing this?" She gasps, looking up at him helplessly as he stares back down at her, face devoid of any emotion.

He reaches down to the side table and grabs a handful of photos, flashing them to to the woman, who immediately shuts her eyes.

"Oh so now you're ashamed?" He asks, a few of his golden curls falling down in front of his eyes as he leans over her. "So you weren't ashamed when you killed these men?"

The woman tries shaking her head, only to be stopped by the plastic wrap. "I didn't do anything!" She yelps, tugging at the plastic binding her arms. Her attacker rolls his eyes, showing her the photos taken from the crime scene.

"Roy Beckett, Zach Mauzy, Carson Mckay, Sam Wyatt, you killed these men," he deadpans, flipping through each photo, causing the woman to wince, refusing to make eye contact with the man.

"You did this to them, you lured them in and killed them. You didn't care that they had families or that they had loved ones, you just took their lives away as if they were nothing."

A tear falls down the woman's cheek, mixing with the blood from her attacker's cut, causing a red trail to flow down onto the table. "Crying won't save you now, God knows it didn't save your victims."

The blonde reaches for the small table, ghosting his hand over his collection of weapons before settling for the large butcher's knife. The woman below lets out a deafening scream, only silenced by the wad of gauze being shoved inside her mouth.

"You won't get sympathy for me," he says plainly, playing with the blade in his hands. "I'm just like you, but I have standards."

Before the woman can process his words, the blonde violently jams the knife into her chest, a small, final gasp for air being forced out of her lungs as a pool of blood collects underneath the plastic wrap.

"Stanny!"

A young, brown-haired boy comes running full speed towards the blonde, his arms open wide, a toy truck still held in one hand.

Stanley gasps as he picks up the boy, swinging him around in a circle before settling him on his hip, holding him tight in his arms. "What did you bring me?"

Stan chuckles to himself. Alexander always wanted to know if there were presents.

"I brought you and your sister ice cream buddy!" He smiles, watching how the young boy's face lights up at the mention of his favorite treat. "Lia get in here, Stanny has ice cream!"

As if on cue, Alex's older sister Ophelia runs out of her room and straight into Stan, wrapping her small arms around his waist. She had come a long way since the first time they met, having shied away from her dad's new boyfriend, bad memories of the last one still etched into her memory.

"Alright kids, let's get you settled," Stan smiles, leading the two Denbrough children into the kitchen, settling them into seats at the kitchen counter before dishing up their ice cream. Chocolate with rainbow sprinkles for Ophelia and mint chocolate chip with chocolate sauce for Xander.

The blonde watches the kids for a few minutes, before excusing himself. He walks up the stairs, passing numerous family photos and pieces of art, before coming face to face with the master bedroom door, which was closed.

He knocks gently before peering inside, seeing his boyfriend of 6 months, Bill Denbrough, typing away at his computer.

He smiles to himself, noticing the way Bill pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he edits his latest chapter, his reading glasses perched upon his nose.

The brunette continues typing as Stan sits down next to him, finishing his edits on the second to last paragraph on the page before briskly closing his laptop and shoving it out of the way.

It takes less than 3 seconds for Bill to crawl into Stan's lap, their lips crashing together gently, with Stan's large hands moving to grip his lover's hips.

The pair remain entangled for a few moments before pulling away, with Bill leaning to rest his head on one of Stan's broad shoulders.

"How way your day?"

He could tell him the truth.

How the day started with an officer giving him shit for not getting a blood analysis into him exactly when he wanted it. The feelings inside of him of how quickly he could slice the officer up and clean it up as if it never happened.

He could explain how annoyed he was when his adopted brother, and officer, Eddie wouldn't stop complaining about his hatred of working VICE, how he deserved to be on homicide, how unfair it was that he was stuck in VICE just because the lieutenant "has it out for him."

Or how difficult it was to wait for the perfect time to kill his latest victim. How weeks of waiting and observing had driven him crazy. How hard it was to clean up her place and dispose of her body into the Atlantic, having to sneak out onto his small boat around 3 am with 3 black garbage bags, making sure to dump them far enough out and away from people.

But he couldn't do that.

"It was okay, just a lot going on at work," he breathes out, bringing a hand to run his fingers through Bill's brown locks.

It wasn't necessarily a lie. The precinct had seen a jump in gang-related activity within Miami in the past few months, with officers feeling pressure from the Captain to find the connections between different cases.

This pressure had also been felt by Stan, as one of the best blood analysts within the state, he was called to almost every crime scene to help officers understand the type of people they were up against. It all seemed so simple to him, but having to explain how these criminals used certain techniques to the average detective just gave him headaches.

"Well I know something that could help you," Bill starts, lifting his head off Stan's shoulder so he can lock eyes with him. "The sitter should be here in a few minutes, that will give us some time for ourselves," he says, pressing a few kisses to Stan's neck, causing the blonde to tense up a bit at the sudden affection and attention he was receiving.

It's not that he didn't enjoy this, hell he really enjoys it, but something about possibly having sex with your boyfriend after you have just murdered someone is not really what Stan was looking forward to.

Bill feels the hesitance in Stan, using his fingers to tilt Stan's head so he can look into his eyes, having not have noticed how the blonde ceased eye contact moments prior.

"Sorry if that was too much," Bill stammers, "We don't have to if you don't want to."

Stan nods softly, flashing his boyfriend a small smile, bringing hands up to cup his face. "Thank you baby, I just feel a bit tired, is it okay if we just lay here and maybe watch a movie?"

Bill smiles back, a look of utter happiness in his eyes.

"I'd love that."

Eddie was the one that introduced Stan to Bill.

Just about a year ago, Eddie was the responding officer on a domestic assault call. He remembers rushing to the scene, a small white house in a residential neighborhood just within city limits.

He remembers making his way inside, seeing a coffee table flipped over, its prior contents spilled across the carpet. Chairs were knocked over, items askew and out of place.

He followed the trail of blood upstairs, coming face to face with the man who did this.

Other officers rushed passed him to cuff the man as he shouted extremities, forcing multiple officers to have to drag him out of the house and down to the station.

Eddie remembers opening the master bedroom door, seeing a young man, his face bruised and bleeding, his lip split and eye starting to swell, holding a young boy to his chest. A young girl next to them clenches the phone in her hands. She's the one who called him here.

"Are you here to help my daddy?" The young boy asks, peeking his head out from his father's chest with watery eyes.

Eddie remembers nodding his head, promising no one would ever hurt them again.

Eddie learned the man's name was Bill, and that the man forcibly dragged out of his home was his husband, Jacob Mills.

The pair had been together for a few years, being there for Bill after his long-time girlfriend, and mother of his children walked out on him.

Jacob was there for Bill every step of the way, helping him to raise his two beautiful children, who reminded him of their mother every day. He loved and supported Bill, but over time they began to fight.

At first, it was over small things, like forgetting to sign Ophelia's permission slip, or not being able to make it to a date night. But over time things got worse.

Things started to become physical after Jacob started using.

It started with smoking. Bill didn't mind at first, hell he smoked in high school and college, but he always made sure Jacob didn't bring it around the kids. But then weed and cigarettes escalated to drinking.

There were nights where Bill wouldn't know where Jacob was, or when or if he would be returning home.

When he did return, it was bad.

The first time, Bill waited up that night for him. Around 3 am he stumbled in, slamming the door closed, only to be startled by Bill turning on the kitchen light.

Bill told him that this was unacceptable, how he and the kids were worried sick, but Jacob was too far gone. He just brushed past Bill, muttering something about going to bed, but Bill kept going, telling him that he was scared for him, how he never answered his messages, how he-

SMACK

Next thing he knows, he is on the ground, clutching his now red cheek, with Jacob walking right upstairs and plopping right into bed.

It didn't happen again for a few months.

Jacob always insisted afterward that he was sorry, and that he would never do it again.

But it just kept happening.

The night Eddie was dispatched to the scene was the night Bill decided enough was enough. Jacob was out at the bar with some friends, so he knew he had time. He planned on packing his and the kid's things and getting out of town, probably with his parents, while he filed for a divorce.

He was just finished packing Ophelia's toys when Jacob got home.

The next thing he knew he was on the bedroom floor, with Eddie leaning over him, promising that he would keep them safe.

Eddie kept good on his promise, helping Bill find the right resources and people who could help him, recommending a therapist that Bill could work with to figure out how to plan out his next moves.

Bill was eternally grateful to Eddie for saving them, insisting that if he didn't receive that dispatch, he wasn't sure where he would be right now. The kids got attached to Eddie quite quickly, finding his demeanor quite calming and his jokes hilarious.

Bill and Eddie from then on had standing "lunch dates" where Eddie would check in on him and the kids, making sure that they were okay and if they needed any help.

It was on one of these "dates" that Eddie introduced Bill to Stan.

Eddie's car was in the shop for repairs, repairs that he insisted he do himself much to Stan's dismay, which ended up making the problem worse. This led to Stan becoming his brother's taxi, driving them both to and from work, and any other place they had to go.

Eddie had mentioned that he was going to check up on one of his old victims and that he needed a ride.

Stan agreed, driving the two of them to the small white house. Eddie had insisted that it would only take a few minutes, but after 30 minutes, Stan was getting a little frustrated. He gave it another ten minutes before he got out of his car angrily, slamming the driver's side door shut loudly.

I should be out getting my next victim, not here just sitting out in the middle of some neighborhood. I could be halfway done by now, what the hell am I doing just waiting for-

Just then, the front door had opened and Stan's eyes widened. Before him stood the most gorgeous man he had ever laid eyes on, his smile bringing an unfamiliar sense of warmth and comfort over the blonde.

God, he could look at his smile all day.

Eddie chuckled from his spot on the couch with Ophelia and Alexander, the younger of the two playing with an airplane toy, dragging it along Eddie's arm, claiming that it was the best runway for the plane.

Conversation between the pair came naturally, even out of earshot Eddie could tell something was up there. He swears he had never seen his brother talk to someone that easily and eagerly before.

It was about a week later when Eddie set them up. He told both of them separately that he wanted to go to dinner, arranging a sitter for Bill, and promising Stan that he would do some of his paperwork for him.

But when both men arrived at the restaurant to see no Eddie, they weren't disappointed.

The sound of Stan's phone woke him up a few hours later.

The tv was still playing softly, a re-run of a Law and Order episode he and Bill had seen at least 10 times playing as he picks up his phone.

"Stan its Eddie, you have to get down to the 7 Seas Motel right now, you need to see this."

Stan lets out a sigh and assures Eddie he will be there soon before hanging up. He places his phone back down on the bedside table and looks down at Bill, who is currently nestled into his side. He hates to leave, but work calls.

He carefully maneuvers his body as to not disturb the sleeping brunette, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead before making his way downstairs and out the front door.

It's about a 15-minute drive to the motel.

Stan fidgets with his fingers as he waits at a stoplight, his mind wandering to the previous night.

He watches silently as the blood begins to accumulate underneath the plastic, sighing in relief. The first blow was always the hardest.

He makes quick work with his buzzsaw, making sure to make as little of a mess as possible. Even though he covered the room in the plastic, he still wanted things to be somewhat neat, even down to the cuts he makes.

When he's done, he feels a sense of relief wash over his body, his work finally being done.

Once on the scene, Stan pulls a pair of rubber gloves on from his bag, showing an officer his official badge so he can gain access to the scene.

Several motel guests and onlookers wait behind the yellow tape, craning their necks to try and look at the crime scene.

Voyeurs. Stan thinks to himself, walking a few feet before seeing Eddie leaning up against the doorway of one of the motel rooms. He's dressed in a pair of short, red athletic shorts, just like the ones he would wear when they were kids.

He wears no top, which could be blamed on the Florida heat, or the fact that he's trying to fit in with the hookers he is working alongside with as an undercover.

"It's one of the girls who works here," Eddie rushes out, pulling Stan into the small room. "I was asking around about her when some other girls noticed she was missing, but then she turned back up."

Stan notices the pain in his brother's voice. Working VICE is hard, you form connections with those around you, even if you aren't telling them who you really are.

"What sick son of a bitch gets off on cutting up people into pieces like this?"

If only he knew.

Stan shakes his head, promising to talk to Eddie later and telling him to stay safe before walking over to the taped off area around the pool.

A few officers are already in the drained pool, a few taking photographs of what sits at the end of the deep end. He makes his way down the stairs and over towards the end, seeing Richie and Ben already on scene.

"How's your brother doing Stan? Fitting in well with the other whores?" Richie teases, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

It's no secret that Richie has some sort of infatuation with Eddie. Whenever the smaller detective is brought up, Richie cannot help himself from cracking jokes or making remarks about getting with him. It mostly just annoys Stan, but Eddie knows how to stand his ground, but Stan swears sometimes Eddie blushes when Richie talks about him.

In this instance Stan ignores him, moving past the two detectives, feeling his blood run cold when he sees what the detectives have been looking at.

Lying before him is the body of the woman Eddie had mentioned, sectioned into several pieces across the tiled pool floor. But what shocks Stan is the lack of blood. No blood to be exact.

"We think the guy drained her blood before dumping her here," Ben says, "But what he did or is doing with the blood is what's throwing us for a loop."

Stan bends down to get a better look at the body. "These cuts are very precise," he states, "whoever did this has some sort of medical training or expertise to understand how to get clean cuts like this, with no hesitation marks."

Ben nods, taking a few notes on what Stan said before patting him on the back. "You can go since there's no blood we don't need you here."

Stan nods, standing back up and turning toward the black-haired forensic science investigator. "Let me know if you find anything Rich."

Richie nods, making a mental note to check by Eddie's room as Stan walks away.

Stan decides to head back to the station, where he can get a jump on finding his next target. He heads back under the crime tape and over towards his car when his phone starts ringing.

He pauses for a moment to look at the caller ID before picking up.

"Miss me already Denbrough?" He asks with a smile, getting into his car and placing his keys in and starting the engine.

"Stan you need to come here right now, the prison called, they let Jacob out due to overcrowding and he's here right now."

Stan doesn't miss the sense of panic in Bill's voice, and he speeds off before he can get a word out.

Looks like his next target already found him.

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paroxysmics-blog · 5 years ago

Text

❝ you can’t put the ocean in a box. she will shift, change, and retreat at will. ❞

( danielle campbell. 22. she/her. ) we spotted AIDEN QUINN-WRIGHT in the wilds today, just another gear in the machine of the apocalypse. i heard she chose to go ROGUE for the end of the world. i guess it fits, seeing as she is known to be + adaptable & + resourceful, as well as - distracted & - suspicious. they often have supposed by james arthur stuck in their head while they hunt. i wonder if they’re prepared for what’s coming ? ( it’s trashcan faye!! )

tw: parent death

Also, this is a LONG ass bio omg you’ve been warned. I can send basics if you’d rather not read it all!!

before the end of the world,

The Kurtzman family teetered the line between working class and poverty, and bringing a child into the world in such a low-income home wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had always wanted to start a family of their own. Born to a young couple with more love than money to give, from birth to childhood: Elizabeth had always been too much to handle. Too loud, hyperactive, lacking the filter and resolve expected of young ladies raised in the South. Her parents, try as they might, had never been able to understand their daughter’s oddities, but boy did they adore her. Her early life was perfectly normal, perfectly happy, and their family seemed like one straight out of a movie. This changes when she gets sick. She is five and running in her grandparents backyard when the first symptoms show, chest tight and breathing labored. Asthma, the doctors tell her parents. Fairly easy to keep under control provided she had the right materials, inhalers and breathing treatments to keep it under control. That’s fine, they assure themselves. They’re living paycheck to pay check as is, but their child’s health is priority. The Kurtzman’s manage the added cost and life goes on as usual.

Until problems arise at school, which results in her teacher recommending she be taken to a family doctor for evaluation. It’s then that she’s diagnosed with ADHD. Another bill, something else tacked onto the long list of expenses for a family barely managing. Desperate times call for desperate measures and this pushes her parents into making a reckless choice. They decide to rise above and provide for their daughter no matter the cost, involving themselves with very shady people as a means to make extra money. The occasional job turns into unrealistic expectations and eventually debts catch up to them. In over their heads and fearing for their lives, they’re given an ultimatum. They swear they’ll pay them back gradually, they’re good for it, but that isn’t enough. Loud banging startles a sleeping Elizabeth awake. Her mother ushers her to the linen closet at the head of the stairs, and before she shuts the door she tells her to cover her ears and not come out until help arrives. “You’ll know it’s them when you hear the sirens, baby girl. I love you.“ Are the last words she speaks to her as she pulls the door shut and rushes to join her husband downstairs. They’re there to collect money they don’t have. Muffled shouts are heard and she can tell they’re arguing with someone. She moves to peek out the door and then — BANG. BANG.

She screams. Heavy feet shuffle through the house to her hiding place, but she’s already taken off down the stairs. The bodies of her mother and father lay in pools of blood in the hallway, staining her bare feet and trailing in her wake. She stops for one horrific moment to look at their lifeless forms before running…and running… until her lungs give way and her legs can’t carry her any longer. Alone and scared, she takes up residence on a park bench overnight. The next morning she wakes to a pair of middle-aged women surrounding her. One dials a number and not long after the police show up. She doesn’t move or speak beyond telling them her name, she just observes as a deputy talks about her like she isn’t there. They discuss how her parents had been found shot at point-blank range in their home the night before. “Suspected gang activity.” He says, beckoning the child to speak, to share any information she may know. She knows nothing, so she says nothing. Not that she would’ve been able to anyways. Once she’s safely collected by child protective services they placed her in the system until such a time as they found a family willing to take her on. ”It is for your protection.” They tell her on a loop, as if the more times they say it the truer it will become. The rest of her life will be spent looking over her shoulder, watching and waiting for the people who killed her parents to find her and finish the job should she ever decide to testify. It’s one spent on edge, constantly wondering who she can trust and whether their intentions are pure. Elizabeth Kurtzman legally became Aiden Quinn, a new name for a girl looking to start a brand new life.

Her saving grace comes in the form the cop assigned to her case, a family looking to adopt the girl they’d bonded with so effortlessly. The family works hard to gain her trust and she eventually caves; they’re kind, they treat her like one of their own, and eventually she thinks maybe she is. Two years pass and she’s started calling them mom and dad, their kids her siblings. The move to Milam, Texas in the middle of her Freshman year came as a surprise, one that she ultimately struggled with, but the girl had nothing keeping her in Florida beyond sentimentality. Her parents had been dead for years, she wasn’t even allowed to visit their graves – her childhood home had likely been sold to someone new and painted over to hide the death. She wonders whether the new family knows what happened there, or if the house had even been left standing period. This doesn’t matter, she reminds herself, as she worked to adjust to another new home, a new town with people she wasn’t sure would accept her as she came.

The three and a half years spent at Buckholts School passed in a haze of fist fights, detentions, and never quite fitting in. She had friends, a handful of them, but actively ostracized herself from her peers so as to keep a healthy distance between them. To them, she was an enigma; one day she was quiet, and kind, the next she was pinning a bully twice her size up against a locker for picking on a defenseless target. If they wanted to take out their anger on someone, they could take it out on her. Loud, spazzy, and sarcastic didn’t exactly make for the ideal friend, most people finding her to be a bit too much to handle. She was never needlessly rude to the people around her though, they just seldom bothered seeing beyond what she presented at face value. Her tendency to talk in class and scarcely pay attention to what the teachers were actually saying painted a pretty obvious picture: Aiden was not smart, and she certainly was not making good grades. She made it by with relative ease, however her scattered attention span and general disregard of her intelligence level downed her confidence to approach school with nothing but a shrug. Even still, she did will enough to go to college if she really wanted to. The thing was, she wasn’t sure she did.

For the first time since she was a child, there were no limitations. She was free to be as reckless as she wanted, all she had to do was wait for the day she turned eighteen. As graduation came and went in a blur of its own, the girl watched on as all her friends went off to college or settled into cozy desk jobs handed to them by their parents. But that wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. Packing nothing but a duffle bag full of clothes and other basic necessities, the first year after High School is spent traveling the country in her beatup pickup. It felt almost like a rite of passage to her; there were no rules, no expectations, only her and the open road. Other than coming home for the holidays, she saw no point in returning. Eventually her parents begin wondering when she’s going to come home for good, to the place she belongs, so she does. Her decision to enroll in the Fire Academy not long after that was met with hesitation from all sides, each person more against it than the last; but she had finally found something she was passionate about. The next three years are spent working under their Fire Department and attending courses in chemistry, communications, and computer science at the local community college.

the end of the world,

News of the spreading outbreak falls on deaf ears, Aiden’s usual amount of sarcasm painting the situation in a humorous light. For someone who had consumed her fair share of zombie media, it just seemed to be a practical joke. A well thought out, deliberate joke. Her parents play the news on loop in the living room, her siblings share stories passed on by friends from school. Things grow more grim as days pass, but she continues her day-to-day, refusing to allow herself to get swept up into the madness like everyone else. Her first encounter with the undead comes that night at work. It’s the standard fare they’re told, a house fire on third. Suited up and on the way, a new alert comes in on her phone: VIRUS SPREADING. TAKE NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS. She never checks it. The woman whose house is on fire is inside, a bite in her neck, the rising flames lapping at her ankles as she reanimates before their eyes. At first they assume she’d passed out from a combination of stress and the fumes, but reality sets in as their questions are answered with groans and a nearly successful attempt at taking a bite out of her colleagues shoulder. The material on their suits is thick enough to keep them from easily being infected, but she doesn’t think twice as she buries the brunt of her axe in the woman’s skull.

It is her refusal to acknowledge that the virus was real that hurt the people she loved the most, the first wave of undead leaving only her, her mother, and two of her siblings in the wake of a disintegrating world. A family of ten turns to a family of four. Aiden’s mother is a proud woman who stops for no one. Before long, word spreads that groups were forming within their general area, survivors coming together to build a better tomorrow — or at the very least to give themselves a better shot at making it that long. Aiden is the first to suggest they go. She doesn’t want to take the chance that they run out of resources, get trapped within the confines of their own house, etc. but her mother is hesitant. It takes time, weeks even, to convince her, and when she finally agrees they end up setting their sights on the Ailton Tower. While not the safest place to take up residence, her siblings would always be entertained and have a better shot at having a somewhat normal childhood, whatever that may be. They make it about halfway when they’re ambushed by a pair of walkers that’d been tailing them through through the forest. Axe in hand and a determination to protect what’s left of her family, the woman steps up, but falls short. Her mother sacrifices herself for her children and she is left with yet another gaping hole in her heart.

Another loss, another family member taken from her. Believing her mother’s initial refusal to join a group to be a sign, Aiden gathers the kids and they return home without a second glance. There’s no grieving, not when you have two people to look after. Bit by bit she reassembles herself though this responsibility, and with that her will to live. Pushing through the pain, she pulls on the denim jacket her father always used to wear and sets to work fortifying their home. Already fenced and two stories, it makes for a decent place to stay. The only way in and out is over, which comes in handy when faced with people looking to loot their already low supplies. The defense on the property is holding up well enough, but only just, and all it would take was a group big enough coming through to crash through their main source of protection. From that, the majority of her days are spent picking the neighborhood clean, going house by house to take whatever she’s able to find. Most of their former occupants are gone, whether by choice to leave or because the dead got them — she suspects the ones that were foolish enough to leave weren’t much better off.

Beyond the typical issues of someone fighting for survival in the midst of the apocalypse, finding the medication she needs has become increasingly difficult. Adderall isn’t a necessity, no, but it does keep her focused. Lacking the resolve to keep her mind and body from being jittery without it, the woman worries for the day she’s no longer able to get her hands on it. Not to mention that being so active means burning through inhalers, which have become as valuable to her as gold in their new world. If she can’t take care of herself, there’s no hope for her siblings. Most pharmacy’s have been picked dry and very little remains from her own visits Because of this, she’s a frequent barterer among the Toledo Bend residents, mostly paying visits to the saints and camp Serotonin, hoping she’ll be able to get her hands on the things she needs. If this means going without food some days so that her siblings are well provided for, that’s a chance she’s willing to take. At the end of the day it’s her and them against the world, no matter the consequences.

misc,

Her bio was honestly too long, so I’m not gonna put too much in here as of right now, but she’s just!!!! my little trash baby and definitely my favorite character I’ve played to date.

MBTI: ENTP(-T)

MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral

SIN: wrath

CHARACTER INSPO: Nick Miller, Chandler Bing, Rosita Espinosa, April Ludgate,

CHARACTER TROPES: Pint-sized powerhouse, brilliant, but lazy, defrosting ice queen, hidden heart of gold, sugar-and-ice personality, they’re just a handful lmao.

connections,

Uh, LITERALLY ANYTHING, but like here’s a few potential ideas!!

Friends/unlikely friends

Enemies/ex-friends/rivals

Ex(es)

Fwb or a fling

Good influence, lord knows the girl REALLY needs one

Alternately, a bad influence, someone who brings out the worst parts of her

Someone she just generally cares about, even if she won’t readily admit it to anyone but them

And honestly, i’d really love someone she trusts wholeheartedly, which in turn extends to her sharing the whereabouts or her twin brothers in the event that something happens to her ( this is a big, big one !!! )

Just anything, pls!!

#toxinintro #temp about tag.#i'm!!!! sorry for her she's a lot #this intro is too #jfc i tried but i couldn't cut the bio down much at all

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munchyn · 5 years ago

Text

: : Our Skeleton : : jhs x reader : : [pt.2]

SOULMATE AU(/coffee shop AU)

Summary: In a world where no one has ever survived their soulmates encounter before, you do. One day at a cafe you faint for what seems to be no reason. Until the doctors at the hospital find writing engraved on your ribs. Saying something in an old language about soulmates.

Word count: 1.92k kinda short sorry, just had to get it out by today lol

A/N: I really losing inspiration for this fic...

... help

AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO HOBI!!!

Warning: hospitals, painkillers, carvings in bones, mentions of fainting, cis female reader (forgot to put that warning in the previous parts)

preview | pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

After having gone to visit you at the hospital, Jin had to go back to work at his flower shop. He bid you and the two boys goodbye and exited the hospital room.

Jin loved his job and he made sure to share with everyone his love for flowers. He loved seeing the faces of his customers as they received the most beautiful bouquets. When he’d heard of what happened to you and that you were currently in the hospital, his first thoughts were;

OH NO! MY POOR BABY SISTER WHAT HAPPENED IS SHE OKAY!?!?!?

That idiot.

I need to make her the most beautiful bouquet of flowers with a hidden meaning behind it.

Of course, Tae and Jungkook had come by him before they went to visit you. That resulted in them wanting to assist him in making the “get well” gift for you perfect. Now he was in front of his shop that he had closed while he was out, A note hanging from the door handle that he was going to be out of service, for personal reasons. Sitting on the step in front of the door was his employee. His pink hair hanging in front of his eyes as he looked through his phone while waiting. “Sorry I left you here waiting,” says Jin as he opens up the door.

The younger man looks up at the sound of his boss’s voice. “It’s okay Mr. Kim,” he replied. “I was only waiting for a few minutes.” The boy picked up his bag from the ground and swung it over his shoulder.

“Honestly,” Jin rolls his eyes. “Jimin, please call me Seokjin.” He pushes the door open and gets the area ready. Making sure everything is at a place he can find easily when he needs. Jimin moves to the caffee side of the flower shop, getting tables ready and going behind the counter. He pulls on a pink apron with the shop's name on it. Jin chuckles at how the apron matches his worker's hair.

“Mr- Seokjin,” pipes up Jimin as he shyly leans against the counter. Jin nods and hums his response, wanting Jimin to continue what he was saying. “Can I ask a favour?” Jin looks up from the flowers he was organizing. Turning his attention completely on Jimin.

“What is it?”

“My friend is currently in the hospital and I was wondering if you could make a bouquet for me to give him,” he questions. “I want to give him that doesn’t really say “GET WELL” so bluntly as just a card-” Jimin uses big hand motions to explain what he’s trying to tell Seokjin. “- So could you please build up something for him.” Jin smiles. His cheeks becoming round and looking a lot softer than usual. Jin nods and he looks around. Already thinking of which flowers to use.

Jin gets to work and places the bouquet at the back of the shop so he can give it to Jimin once his shift is over. Customers start to come in and Jimin and Jin get them what they need. Jimin serving coffees and Jin summoning up combinations of flowers from the depths of his imagination. Jin was finishing up the last bouquet, Jimin starts to clean up his things. Taking off his apron as his shift ends. Jin hands the man the bouquet and sits down on the stool. propping his elbows up on the table and holding his head up in his hands. “Today was exhausting huh Mr. Kim.”

“Seokjin.”

“Sorry, Seokjin,” mutters Jimin. He goes over to sit next to Jin.

“It was extremely exhausting,” says Jin, cutting the silence between them. Jin sits up straight. “If I may ask,” Jin hesitates a moment before continuing. “What happened to your friend?”

“He fainted from shock,” says Jimin. “The doctors say they think they found something in his ribs that may have caused the pain. But what they found just seems impossible.”

“What did they find?” curiosity gets the best of him as Jin asks his employee about his friend's situation.

“It looked a lot like carvings,” says Jimin. But it sounds more like a question. “But I don’t know. It didn’t look very clear to me.” Jin taps his lips with his index and middle finger in thought. Just that morning, before having seen you, he had talked with the doctors. He was told about your situation, how you had fainted and that you had been taken to the hospital. All that wasn’t new. Taehyung, who had been waiting in the lobby with Jungkook, had told him about that.

The other thing that the doctors had said is that the pain that caused you to faint was coming from your ribs and they had found something that looked very much like writing engraved into your bones. They had never seen anything like it. Now Jimin was saying that the same thing had happened to his friend. “Hmmm,” hums Jin unconsciously.

“What?” asks Jimin.

“Nothing,” replies Jin. “Just my sister is also currently in the hospital for the same reasons.” Jin stands up to get the bouquet made for Jimin’s friend. “She fainted in a caffee the other day and was taken to the hospital-” Jin shakes his head. Moving the thoughts out of his mind. “-anyway, here’s the flowers for your friend. Hope he gets well.”

“Thank you Seokjin,” Jimin takes the bouquet and bows in thanks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Jimin dashes out the door,

“Be careful with the flowers!” calls Jin. Jimin seems to have heard him, he turns and nods his head in acknowledgement. Jimin speed-walks toward the hospital where Hoseok is.

After the somewhat short walk there, Jimin is soon entering his friend's room. Usually, after having fainted and being taken to the hospital, you’re tired and probably not feeling at your best. To Jimins surprise, Hoseok was sitting upright on his hospital bed. He had a smile on his face and he seemed to shine brighter than the sun. His laptop was open in front of him and when he heard the door open he immediately turned up to look at Jimin. His smile getting wider once he sees his friend. And even wider once he sees the bouquet in his hands. “Are those for me?”

“No they’re for the lady in the room next door,” he says setting the flowers in a vase so conveniently placed on Hoseoks bedside table. Jimin steals a glance at Hoseoks computer screen. Furrowing his brows in confusion once he sees what’s there. “What are you searching.” Hoseok’s face goes beet red as he slams the laptop shut. “I do not want to see your search history.”

“I was bored okay,” Hoseok covers his face with his hands.

“Oh, so when you’re bored you search cases of soulmates with carvings in their ribs?” says Jimin.

“What?!?” shrugs Hoseok defensively. “It’s not that weird.”

“Yeah, totally not weird to be looking at corpses,” sasses Jimin.

“It’s for research,” mutters Hoseok. Jimin sits on the hospital and rolls his eyes. He asks his enthusiastic friend to speak what he’s thinking about. Hobi starts up an energetic (and one-sided) conversation about how he thinks all this is connected to him finding his other half. Although Jimin didn’t believe in soulmates, he encouraged his friend in every way he could. ‘He has such a wild imagination,’ he would often think. Hoseok would come up up with crazy ways you might possibly find your soulmates. Right now, that was one of those moments.

“If they are your other half-” starts Jimin. “-why would meeting them bring you pain?”

Hoseok opens his mouth to answer but is interrupted by an overwhelming pain in his ribs. Jimins eyes widen at Hoseoks sudden change in attitude. One moment having been seeming to be in healthy conditions and next bending in on himself to get over the pain. Like being poked by burning hot needles into his skeleton. Jimin pressed the button to call the nurse.

The peony petals falling and dying going unnoticed in both your and Hoseok’s rooms.

It was the day after Hoseok’s sudden attack of pain and Jimin was eager to go see him. He was standing outside the door to Hobi’s room and he heard the voices of their colleagues. He slowly pushed open the door. He sees Namjoon and Yoongi already in the room. Hoseok was sitting on the bed but looked a lot glummer than the previous day. Jimin sensed something wrong in the vibe of the place. He came to stand next to Yoongi. Who was sitting in one of the chairs.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“He won't take the pain killers,” sighed Namjoon. The taller boy tried to get Hoseok to take the medicine and failed. Hoseok just leaned back against the propped up hospital bed. Jimin approached him from the opposite side Namjoon was standing.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asks again. This time directed at Hoseok. Hoseok looks at him without moving his head. He lets out a sigh and looks down at his hands. Hoseok’s skin was paler than usual and he didn’t emit the same joy and hope he usually did. He tries to sit up, wincing at the pain. Namjoon places a hand on his back to help him upright.

“They are horrible,” mutters Hoseok. Jimin stares blankly at his friend.

“The painkillers?” says Namjoon. Hoseok makes a face at that, sticking his tongue out in a gesture of disgust. “You can’t just decide to not take your medicine. The doctor said you need to take them.” Hoseok rolls his eyes. Hoseok takes the pills and there's a few moments of silence.

“I’m going to delete my blog,” he squeaks out. That knocks the air out of all three of his friend’s lungs. Yoongi leans forward in his seat with his eyes wide in surprise hands gripping the seat armrests. They all knew which blog he was talking about immediately. Hoseok had spent years working on his soulmates blog. He couldn’t just give it up.

“What why?” asks Namjoon. He too was looking wide-eyed at their friend.

“Whenever I try to explain why I believe this soulmate thing exists, something happens. First I faint and then yesterday,” says Hoseok. “I can’t help but feel like something is telling me to stop looking.” Jimin couldn’t believe that his friend was actually being brought down this way for a simple accident. Saying that something was telling him to stop searching for his soulmate. When it was probably just an aftereffect of when he had fainted.

“You can’t just delete the blog tho,” says Jimin. “You’ve worked on it for years.”

The next half-hour was spent trying to get Hoseok to change his mind. Completely deleting his work seemed a bit too big a step. It drained everybody to know that the most sunshiny of the group was giving up. It didn’t feel right. In the end, they managed to get him to agree to take a break from the blog instead. With all the time spent arguing with Hoseok, their time had run out and it was time for them to go back to work. They bid their farewells and left their friends room.

“Hoseok doesn’t look good at all,” says Yoongi gravely.

“I have to agree,” says Namjoon. “He looked drained.” As the trio walked down the halls of the hospital someone caught Jimin’s eye. His eyes went wide as he gawked at the man a few metres away from him.

Mr. Kim?

MASTERLIST REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Tag list: @wystfulaster

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forallyourikemensengokuneeds · 5 years ago

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Lessons learned ch 2

Two months had gone by and somehow she had survived so far. Noelle was sitting on the beat up couch in the office as he finished up his last class of the day. She had finished the grading for the packet of papers he had left her. She had the list of things he needed and she had ordered them all for him. She was just sitting think what else she could do when the wave of drowsiness took over. That was the next stage of this she had heard though the doctor she had seen hadn't told her it would be this bad. She closed her eyes for what seemed like a moment and when she opened them he was at his desk reading something on the computer.

He glanced up and peered at her through his glasses which just made his eyes seem even more golden. "Noelle I really do think we need to have a conversation." He started. She sighed knowing that all her hard work and dedication to the job he was going to find out the reason she needed it and he would fire her.

"I really don't want to have this conversation professor." She sighed again, "I will pack up my things and will help you train my replacement."

"You're quitting?" He asked.

"I thought you would be firing me." She said.

"Why would I fire you?" He asked, "so far you have been the best assistant I ever had."

"But why did you want to have a conversation then?" She asked.

"Because your issues are becoming more prominent, Noelle. You have to say the words and I need to hear them so we can change some of your tasks." He said.

"Nothing has to change." She replied.

"Noelle." He said sternly as his eyes narrowed.

"Fine. I am pregnant. Fine are you happy now?" She sputtered out with tears in her eyes.

"Not particularly. Are you?" He asked, "hiding something like that has to be exhausting."

"It was." She said as she sat back.

"Where is the father?" He asked, as he raked his eyes over her.

"I don't know." She said softly.

"Now I have to admit that shocks me." He said as he sat back in his chair.

"I don't. I hate to say it but I don't know who the father is. It was a surprise for me as well." She said.

"Care to explain?" He asked with his fingers now steepled on his desk as he leaned forward.

"I really don't want to but I went to a party with a few friends last school year. I had one drink and then the next thing I know I am in my dorm room. Everything seemed fine but a few weeks later, well yeah." She shrugged.

"That unfortunately makes much more sense." He said softly. "What do you plan to do?"

"Finish the year. I'm on track to but as you already probably guessed I have been cut off from my family so I have to do this on my own. Hence why I needed this job." She said.

"I meant about the child." He said keeping his tone even.

"I know I had a choice in the beginning and everyone told me to take it I couldn't. It's mine, you know." She said shrugging, "I know it won't be easy but I will do whatever I have too to make it work."

He sat back and looked at her again his eyes giving nothing away.

"You need to rest more." He said, "I believe we should cut your hours."

"But I need those hours." She said. "Professor please. This job is me saving so I can get the things the baby needs."

"Will you promise not to work yourself to hard?" He asked.

"Do I have a choice?" She retorted.

"Noelle how far along are you exactly?" He asked.

"Four and a half months." She said with a sigh. She didn't want to be here having this conversation with him but she knew she had too. He had surprised her with how observant he was. Picking up on things she liked and didn't. He had avoided mixing his meals around her.

"And you have no one?" He asked.

"No." She replied.

"No friends?" He asked.

"Professor why would that matter?" She avoided answering the question.

"So no, let me guess when you said something they all thought you were crazy and stupid. As they went to bar or something like that?" He asked. She nodded. She had made the hardest decision of her life and everyone around her had thought she was insane for making that one. "Admirable."

"What is?" She asked as the tears filled her eyes.

"You changed course without anyone instead you have worked hard and continued doing what you needed to to hopefully fulfill your dreams. That is admirable."

"Thank you." She choked out as the tears slipped passed her eyelids.

"Here." He said handing her a piece of paper.

"What's this?" She asked.

"My phone number. My cell number. You have no one else if you need to call me." He said as he looked at her, "Noelle you need to eat more as well. I know your money is locked up right now, let me take you out to dinner."

"Sir." Noelle started and then "Professor Akechi I'm not sure that is a good idea."

"Food." He replied, "you need to eat."

"Fine." She said softly not wanting to agree but things were tight and though she was eating it wasn't always the best option.

"I will pick you up in a few hours say six o'clock?" He said, "you are dismissed for the day."

"Fine." She said as she stood up and got her bag. It was Friday and she had to start the weekend somehow. She had given up the fun of going out and had to stay at her apartment most of the time. The noise from her various neighbors was almost as good as watching television. A dinner out would be nice even if it was with her boss. It wasn't like he liked her he was just being a thoughtful boss.

She walked out of the office and Mitsuhide Akechi sat back in his chair and wondered why he just did that. Noelle was the best assistant he ever had but there was something more about her. He was attracted to her the moment he saw her sitting on the floor by his office door and knew he was asking for punishment when he did hire her. He had started pitting things together about her pregnancy very early on. She often had a greenish complexion when food was brought up, her tiredness though she was working the job well was also becoming more evident ever day, in the past month though it was the changes in her appearance that sealed the deal. He wanted to find out who the father was and make sure he was doing his part in helping out only to find out there was none. This hard working woman who was cut off from her family had no one to help her and she was barely making it. He did admire her. He was envious as well.

He was even more attracted to her than he was before and now he knew it would be difficult to work with her. He never had a burning desire for a female before but knowing she wasn't even a regular college student and never one of his students allowed him to pursue her if he chose too. He could easily help her out and it wouldn't make a dent in his life but he wanted more. He wasn't sure what he wanted but it was just more than writing a check to her and calling it a day. He was eight years older than her and though until that conversation he had thought he was content to be alone as his colleagues were all getting married and having children he was sure he would remain alone that is until a certain female applied to work for him.

He stared to make plans in his mind. This dinner would be the catalyst for his next move either way. If it was a good one he would move on and if it turned bad he would just remain her boss and it seemed only friend.

"Knock knock" he heard from the hallway and looked up to see Professor Toyotomi one of his colleagues and he begrudgingly called him a friend though their friendship at best was strained.

"What do you want?" Mitsuhide asked.

"Came to see if you wanted to go out with the others tonight?" Hideyoshi asked.

"I have other plans." Mitsuhide said.

"Oh. Doing what?" Hideyoshi asked skeptically.

"My assistant." Mitsuhide countered.

"What?" Hideyoshi asked with wide eyes.

"I have a working dinner with my assistant, Miss Hanson." Mitsuhide said with a smirk. "What did you think I meant?"

"I mean she is a pretty girl." Hideyoshi replied.

"She is an adult you know. A graduate student getting ready to graduate but that is neither here nor there. Just a dinner to go over a few changes I made to the syllabus." Mitsuhide said his smirk growing. He knew how to get under his friends skin. Though it was perfectly fine for a professor and student to have a relationship Hideyoshi had numerous objections to the practice. This time he couldn't say much of anything if it did work out the way Mitsuhide hoped for it too she was never his student.

"Well if it is a working dinner." Hideyoshi said as he eyed the other man.

"Whatever else would it be?" Mitsuhide asked with a tone of innocence both men knew he didn't have.

"I could go on the dangers of getting involved in a relationship with a student but I have a feeling you just want to rile me up. Just be careful Mitsuhide, some of these women will do nearly anything to make sure they get an A." Hideyoshi said as he stood up.

"I am sure she has no desire for that type of A." Mitsuhide said with a laugh. "You do realize of course she is not my student nor has she ever been."

"Then how is she doing the work?" Hideyoshi asked as he turned to look back at Mitsuhide who was now standing and getting his papers to place in his computer bag.

"Thats the thing Hideyoshi she learned the course the first two weeks she worked for me. She never took my classes." Mitsuhide smiled, "she is a rather impressive young woman. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go get some things ready before dinner."

"Be careful though." Hideyoshi said as they parted in the hallway.

"I have nothing to worry about." Mitsuhide as he smirked again and he knew he didn't. Either way this dinner went he had nothing to worry about when it came to Noelle.

#ikemen sengoku inspired #modern au #akechi mitsuhide #lesson learned

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theres-no-paradise · 7 years ago

Text

Sorry not Sorry

Chapter 2

Summary: A random number wakes you up early on a Saturday morning. But it doesn't stop there. The stranger keeps on sending messages, and you have no idea what is happening, when you start to develop feelings for the unknown person.

Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader [submit your name: How it works]

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

Y/N your Name

Y/F your friends name

Word Count: 1646

Warnings: There will be swearing for sure, lots of sarcasm

A/N: Part two of my little series. this chapter is a little shorter but I still hope you enjoy it anyway :)

It was a busy Thursday afternoon as you finished off your shift and got ready to call it a day. As you were packing up your bag, a little blinking light indicated that there was a new unread message on your smartphone. Sighing, you ignored the phone, since you didn't had time to check who messaged you as the train would be leaving soon. Thursdays were mostly the busiest and longest days for you at work. During peak hours, lots of customers would come in at the same time and that meant for you to multitask. Of course, you still had your colleagues around to help out but you wanted to do a good job as well and your boss to notice your hard work, so thursdays were more than exhausting for you.

As you were about to leave the building, you turned around and called out a “See ya’ll tomorrow”, before heading out into the warm spring day in London.

You hurried to the train station, taking two steps at once to reach the platform in time only to get greeted by a sign that had the information of delay on it. “Urgh fifteen minutes? When will the TFL get their shit together?”, you mumbled as you walked over to the bench to sit down and rest from the quick walk. As you waited for your train to arrive, you remembered that there was a message on your phone, waiting to be read. As you pulled out the device, first thing you noticed was the number. Sighing, you opened Whatsapp and checked the new message they’ve sent you.

+44 98 7654 3210: How old are you?

You: Why the fuck would I tell you my age?

After pressing the green send button, you kind of felt bad for the rude counter question. But on the other hand this stranger kind of annoyed you too. Back in the past, some of your fake friends would use your number to do pranks on you. Sometimes even call you in the middle of the night and just give your number out to random strangers, to send you creepy messages as well. Maybe that's why you felt so uneasy about the number texting you now. A vibration signalled you an incoming message and you looked at the screen again.

+44 98 7654 3210: Because I was asking for your age and not your national insurance number lol

You re-read the sentence a couple of times before you started to giggle. That was an answer you most definitely didn't expect but it cheered you up any way. Okay, maybe this stranger wasn't that bad, you thought.

You sat there for a few minutes, phone still in your handy as you stared down to the streets. Many people were rushing to the train station since it was rush hour time, but you just relaxed a little more and decided to type back a message.

You: And you know that I could tell you anything and it doesn't need to be true

You didn't want to make it too easy for the stranger. If they really wanted to know who they were texting, you would make it a little challenge. You kind of hoped, that with the way you messaged them, they would get annoyed by your stubbornness. Sometimes you enjoyed to be this rude. But only sometimes.

After a delay of a full 18 minutes, your train arrived at the platform. Crowds were moving towards the doors, pushing to get the best seats but you didn't care. The train ride wouldn't last long anyway so you just stood by the door, looking out of the window as the train started moving slowing. Staring out the window and listening to the people talking, another vibration caught your attention.

+44 98 7654 3210: Yeah you could but where's the fun in that? Im 21

You shook your head as you read the message. It kind of made sense to you now, why they were so nosy. Even though you weren't that much older, you smiled as you thought back to your early twenties. You definitely were an annoying young women, getting on the nerves of some of your friends. Sometimes you would talk nonsense, or behave weird, especially when drunk. Once you stopped going out on weekends on a regular basis, this behaviour kind of stopped.

As the train came to an halt in your neighbourhood, you left the waggon and walked down the stairs. Walking home took you a couple of minutes so you decided to text the stranger back.

You: Unbelievable I see why you're like this You are still a baby

+44 98 7654 3210: Ouch So you're older?

You: Somewhat. 25

The next incoming message came after a few minutes. You just got into your apartment as a vibration in your pocket startled you. Throwing your bag onto your sofa, you walked over to your kettle to fill it up with water. You couldn't wait to have a nice cup of tea and just drop down onto your sofa.

While the water boiled, you grabbed your phone to read the unread message.

+44 98 7654 3210: At least you're not a cougar!

“What is wrong with you?”, you asked the phone, shaking your head in disbelief. This must be a guy, you thought. No woman would use such a word. Also, did this person know that you were a girl? Or did they just assume over the way you texted with them? You just replied with one word, before you threw your phone on the table, not minding any more messages.

You: Weirdo

+44 98 7654 3210: :D

+44 98 7654 3210: I never asked for your name

You stared at the message for a couple of minutes, trying to absorb the sentence so that it made sense to you. Well, it did made sense but you felt uneasy about just answering, telling the stranger your name.

You: And why in the world should I tell you my name?

Your message sounded a little passive aggressive but you shrugged it off. This person could still be playing a prank on you or even worse, murder you if they were a serial killer. You started to think if they knew who you were. Maybe this whole thing was really just a prank?

+44 98 7654 3210: Well I wouldn't need to ask if you're a male or female

What a weird way to explain why you wanna know a person's name, wasn't it? You thought about writing down a neutral name, where you couldn't tell if the person was really a guy or a girl but another thought hit you.

You: omg Are you some kind of old ass pedophile?

No answer for about ten minutes and you got frustrated. You were still at work, but Friday afternoons were probably the most relaxed ones.

Just as you started to work on a booking, a new text message came in; but it didn't stop. Your phone vibrated three more times, and you got hold of it immediately, wondering what the sudden storm of messages was about.

+44 98 7654 3210: No!! Just curious! I swear! My names Tom

You laughed out loud.

The way he sent the messages, being all shocked, looked hilarious. You tried to imagine his face, the way his panicked expression must've looked but you couldn't help it and sigh in frustration. You had still no idea, who that person was even though he told you his name. You knew a few Tom’s but they were all mature enough not to do pranks on you. So who was this mysterious 21 year old named Tom, that disturbed your peaceful life?

You decided, to give another cocky answer just in case, you thought.

You: Good for you

You put your phone to the side, to keep on working on the bookings that you’ve just started to manage. After a little while, your phone vibrated again.

+44 98 7654 3210: Someones in a bad mood today

You: Dont you have anything important to do?

+44 98 7654 3210: Other than texting you? Nope :)

What did you expect him to answer, as you read his response? Of course he had fun asking all these questions and getting these sarcastic answers back. But you had to admit, you kind of started to enjoy the exchange of texts and it made you a little uncomfortable. This guy was a stranger after all and the feeling of being played with was still stuck deep in your mind.

You: Bye

+44 98 7654 3210: :(

You: :)

Putting the device back on the table, you concentrated back on your task. This person really had nerves to message you during working hours. A look on the clock told you, that it was nearly finishing time in the office and you hurried to get the last bookings ready. You didn't want customers to be waiting for their Confirmations the whole weekend, so you wanted to have it all ready by the time of closing hour. As you sent out the last Email, you shut off your Computer and packed up your stuff. It was already silent in the building, as most people had already called it a day. Only your boss and his secretary were still on the floor, preparing other stuff for upcoming fairs.

“See you monday”, you shouted and left the front door, hearing two voices calling out “Have a nice weekend” to you. Smiling, you left the office building and walked out to the always busy streets of London.

People were rushing from one place to another, tourists stopped by and took photos of every little detail and you smiled. A simple, close mouthed but happy smile. And then you just took your phone out and typed in the few letters, still smiling.

You: Y/N

Taglist: @hollandorks @beardedsteveslut

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged (: )

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #haz osterfield #tom holland imagine #th #sorry not sorry #sns

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tallskinnyvanillalatte · 7 years ago

Text

Castle Season 8

The final season, the final post. If you want to read through the whole thing, here you go.

8x01 XY: “Oh my God, this is so beautiful.” Yeah and you’re touching it with your cake fingers. Rock paper scissors is Knife Gun Kevlar :D Jenny is pregnant again :) “Alexis, you can’t just... You solved four cases?! That’s more than I have.” “I know. Step your game up.” lol We meet Hayley Shipton :’) Beckett is hurt and missing again, ugh. And then she’s visiting Bracken in prison. Castle is abducted, too. Oh my God, the spiders in the box scared me big time. I can’t watch this. “Okay, I might puke” yeah same. It’s so gross, I’m so scared. Alexis storms in on Hayley’s interrogation, she’s clearly been crying. Aww bb:( As if the spiders weren’t bad enough, he’s putting a plastic bag full of spiders over his head. They find him and Alexis is so relieved, she was freaking out. “When you disappeared last year. I thought you were dead, for two months.” :( Vikram is mentioned. The shooting at the precinct is pretty emotional (I’m looking for a specific word but I can’t find it). Castle just grabs Alexis and hides behind a desk with her, shielding her, keeping her head down, protecting her. <3

8x02 XX: I like the idea of showing us an episode through two different perspectives. “You can call me Rita, Castle’s step-mother”. Now that’s new. So, Beckett got shot. How come her wound is long like from a knife instead of a bullet hole? LokSat is brought up. “Beckett is family” aww <3 Bracken is killed in prison. Something’s wrong with Beckett’s hair. Aw it’s the return of the Smorelet. And then it gets really sad and weird when Beckett tells Castle about having to leave, having to do that on her own, that he should trust her, blahblah.

8x03 PhDead: Hi Lucy! I’m confused about Beckett’s hair again. It looks wrong. But wasn’t it that she wore a wig during season 8 because she had cut her hair or something? But I remember thinking that I didn’t notice the wig, that her hair looked just fine, but now it doesn’t? omg that’s Bryce from 13 Reasons Why. And he’s flirting with Alexis aka Clara omg. “Castle, go home. You’re drunk.” Did I mention that I miss Gates? I miss her “Mister Castle!” expression, I miss her. I like the bubbles tradition :’)

8x04 What Lies Beneath: Aw man, not the pretty mosaic window. lol Ryan and Esposito making a cross in sync. “Former altar boys”. Castle hugging Esposito for no real reason - I’ll be disappointed if he didn’t plant some kind of bug or tracker on him. “Did you put that tracker on me when you gave me that awkward hug?” ah yes. That poor computer. What’s with the Vulcan Simmons case, I don’t understand.

8x05 The Nose: “You always smell so pretty. ... Captain.” I kinda hate that Ryan didn’t pass his Sergeant exam when he’s the one that needed it so badly with baby #2 on the way. The intro always kinda freaks me out cause it’s a lot louder than last season and it always comes so unexpected. “You shot me in the ass.” Assposito though. “Shoot me in the ass. Come on. Do it right now, shoot me in the ass.” I’m dying of second hand embarrassment. They are behaving awfully. They are acting like immature brats. It’s awful, I hate this.

8x06 Cool Boys: Um hey there Slaughter? “Wow, you grew up nice.” ewww Slaughter, stop looking at Alexis like that. Elvez and Lucky Charms though omfg. Castle and Slaughter ‘singing’ was so weird. Beckett was absent during the whole episode. Did I miss the explanation for that or...?

8x07 The Last Seduction: Ryan and Espo are seeing a therapist together. It’s hilarious but it’s ridiculous that the ass thing is still a thing. The.. notepad stopped the bullet that Ryan took to save Espo? Like, okay. Beckett brought dinner, I hope they actually ate that before making out. Like, I’m too ace for this shit.

8x08 Mr. & Mrs. Castle: Hayley and Alexis fist bumping is gold. Castle dancing though.

8x09 Tone Death: A murder at Martha’s work place, a colleague or the like. Honestly, I don’t understand the sudden change of Beckett letting Castle in now. Like, what changed? That singing performance really makes me miss Glee. Omfg the intro. Awww Hooked on a feeling. Sing off with Espo was great. It’s weird that Ryan and Esposito don’t figure out Castle and Beckett’s game though. Like, it’s so obvious at the end.

8x10 Witness for the Prosecution: Has it ever occured to them that maybe she didn’t kill Sadie after all?! Ugh Castle’s secret “I love you” nose scratch is so annoying. I’m clearly not in the mood for this episode. Castle is always promising people to name a character in his next book after them. Like, man I hope you’re including enough characters because you promised SO many people already. That poor girl. Her mother was killed by her own father, thus she lost both her parents.

8x11 Dead Red: The scene with Castle showing Martha and Alexis his baby shower gifts for Jenny and Ryan is great. I love how Alexis predicted everything he was gonna give them right ;) Castle’s stepmother is there again.

8x12 The Blame Game: I love how Castle just crashes Alexis and Martha’s coffee date and he’s all secrecy about something and says “I can’t tell you” and Alexis just goes “okay” and keeps the conversation with Martha going. Aaah Castle wakes up in that school classroom. Love that episode, the game was great. It’s just a bit weird how the killer almost kills himself and is only saved because Castle was smart enough to figure it out. Like, that was such a risky move? Oh look, there’s Nina Holiday from RandI. “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.” “Does that mean no hug?” <3

8x13 And Justice For All: Hi Perlmutter. still don’t like your beard. He... has an identical twin brother called Edgar? And he wants to set him up with Beckett now that she’s “broken up” with Castle? lol I wanna see that. ... Your good brother Edgar, huh. Castle speaking French though. “And you [immigrants] are the ones that make this country great” I’m crying.

8x14 The G.D.S.: “You are a bad influence.” “Thank you.” Hayley and Alexis are so great together. OH MY GOD THAT’S THE GUY THAT’S HIM. The intro sound is different. DId Hayley just say “Oh God, have mercy”?!?!?!? “I adore your daughter”. “I am your father. And from the day you came into this world it's been my job to protect you.” <3 Castle knew about LokSat when he was missing, like during that time.

8x15 Fidelis Ad Mortem: “For Richard. Without your constant stumbles in life the advice in this book would not have been possible.” I love how he got excited for that tiny moment. I’m already not interested in the case, I don’t like the feel of the episode. I like the blonde recruit. Her look reminds me of Shay <3 “I need time to process this” ugh it feels like we’re running in circles. The episode doesn’t feel right. The atmosphere is not right. It doesn’t feel like a Castle episode.

8x16 Heartbreaker: Move, bitch,g et out of the way, get out of the way, bitch, move, bitch. Lucy cockblocking Caskett though. 15 minutes in, I don’t like the feeling of the episode. Oh Javi, that “Let me take a shower” stunt is so old, I can’t believe you fell for it. She’s..t he love of his life? Lucy is Linus now.

8x17 Death Wish: I love it when stuff like that happens :D like, the killer is about to cut off the victim’s head and then we switch to Castle slicing a melon :D There’s this mysterious woman that disappears all the time. Like, Castle turns away for a second and she’s gone. The genie thing is a bit silly, and not in a fun way. Awww Jenny is having their baby :’) The baby’s name is Nicholas Javier :’) Awww :’) It’s Javier after all, like he said way back when. The ‘complications’ really weren’t necessary though. Like, they didn’t even do anything with that. Just “there are some complications” and then twenty seconds later it’s all good again. Also, couldn’t they at least have one normal delivery?

8x18 Backstabber: Hayley, what the hell is going on. The tension between Alexis and Hayley is great. “or to your daughter” omg it always gets so intense when other people bring up Alexis. I loved the Alexis/Hayley scenes which is why I made a gifset about that way back when: http://tallskinnyvanillalatte.tumblr.com/post/143532179493/alexis-castle-and-hayley-shipton-in-8x18

8x19 Dead Again: It’s so weird when the dead guy (who had been poisoned with some deadly poison) is alive again. Then the guy dies again. Only to rise from the dead two minutes later. It’s so weird and not in a good way. Also, Castle is so annoying with him trying to test the guy for super powers. The guy is shot and dead. But wakes up again? It’s so weird and annoying.

8x20 Much Ado About Murder: I’m too tired to focus on this episode properly. Castle is abducted.. again. “He [Castle] must be suffering” and then we cut to Castle laughing his ass off. Awww hey Jenny. “Uncle Javi” I’M DYING. That scene was too adorable.

8x21 Hell to Pay: Second to last episode... The man with the axe, that could’ve been such an intense scene but nah. The title card is different again, for the last time? Nathan Filion looks thinner in this episode. Beckett scaring off Castle is too great though. Awww Alexis and Hayley are having a movie night with pizza and beer. lol Hayley wants to watch a horror movie at the place where they were surprised by the axe man (I keep typing ‘ace’ instead of ‘axe’ - and I just did it again).

8x22 Crossfire: He we go, series finale. “In case anything goes wrong...” “I will get Martha and Alexis here and I will protect them, you have my word.” <3 The moment when Castle gets into the cab and the song from at the beginning starts playing and you see the driver is the killer. The “truth time” scene that I also giffed is so intense and heart breaking. The way Castle wants to say ‘no’ but can’t and is crying... And how devastated he is. I really don’t like all the shooting in this episode. The way they took down LokSat was so weird. So you seriously mean to tell me that Lanie got a full five-seconds of screentime in the series finale. And then Castle and Beckett are both shot but it’s not even explained? We just jump ahead a few years and there they are with children? Like, how did they survive? God there’s so many plotholes in this.

Well, now I’m done. I miss what the show was in the early seasons. Like,t hat whole comedy, the domestic Castle aspect.

#k watches castle #castle rewatch #castle season 8 #castle episodes

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petitrangement · 7 years ago

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Hey, I'm not going to womansplain feminism to the readers of Esquire! That's not happening on my watch! You're sophisticated, 21st century men with a copy of the El Bulli cookbook, a timeless pair of investment brogues and a couple of Joni Mitchell albums — for when you want to sit in your leather armchair, and have a little, noble, necessary man-cry.

You don't need me lecturing you — because you're not hanging out the back of a bus shouting "CLUNGE!" at a bunch of terrified 15-year-old girls. You've got sisters, mothers, lovers — female friends and colleagues — and you've never once gone up to any of them shouting, "Blimey! You don't get many of those to the pahnd!" while honking on their breasts, in the manner of Sid James. You're down with the sisterhood. You've got eyes. You know what's going on out there. You've noted that while society's happy for a famous man to age, and become distinguished, and generally wander around looking like a fucking wizard, the women generally still seem to be 20 years younger, and standing there on the cover of magazines, all like, "Oh! My clothes… they fell off!" EVEN IF IT'S DAME JUDI DENCH.

You know the pay disparity; still 20 per cent less for women in this country, and not a single prosecution, even though it's literally illegal. You know babies come out of vaginas and it fucking stings, and that the vaginas are having a hard time anyway, what with all the waxing they get. (That's £20 a pop, my friend. Every single month. Just to feel normal. It's basically VAT on your minge. Imagine if you had to get your bum-hole stripped every 30 days — lest the mean girls at school corner you on the bus home and go, "I've heard you're like Catweazle down there. Someone who fingered you said it was like diddling a Gonk. Ugh.")

You've seen Amy Schumer's brilliant, edgy sketches on contraception and rape, and laughed along with them. You've called Donald Trump "a twat" for his sexist comments about a female news anchor being on her period. You've watched the whole Caitlyn Jenner trans thing unfold and gone, "You know what — this all seems fair enough. I am down with the trans thing."

So, no. I'm not going to womansplain feminism to you. It's the 21st century and you are, most assuredly, not a dick. You like women being equal to men — which is all that feminism means. Not all the penises being burned in a Penis Bonfire. Just women being equal to men. You are like my friend John, when he talks about dating alpha-women: "Feel intimidated by them? Christ, no. Dating and marrying powerful women is like big game hunting. I fuck tigers and panthers. Not… chihuahuas."

No. You get feminism. You don't need Tits McGee here to take you through it one more time. So, what I am going to do, instead, is tell you 12 things about women that women are usually too embarrassed to tell you themselves. Because I am a chronic over-sharer, and incapable of keeping secrets. I'm like that other Deep Throat. The chatty Watergate one. That's the Deep Throat I am.

1. No mumbling

Like you, we feel a bit embarrassed about saying the word "feminism". It's the same as when you say the word "environment". They both have that slight implication of, "I'm now going to launch into a speech that's basically about what a great person I am".

Unfortunately, in both cases, the entire future of the world does rest on people being able to say those words properly, and not mumbling "femernism", or "envibeoment".

You just have to shut yourself in a cupboard and say them over and over again — "FEMINISM! ENVIRONMENT! FEMINISM! ENVIRONMENT!" — until they feel as normal as saying "pina colada", or "Michael Fassbender". Which are both, when you think about it, much odder-sounding.

2. 'The Man'

So, when women talk about "The Man", we're not talking about you. You're just a man. You're not The Man. Similarly, when we talk about the patriarchy, that's not you, either. You're not the patriarchy. You're just… Patrick. When we're doing those "MEN!" chats, we're just identifying the general locus of the problem, ie, most of the power and influence being held by a small amount of men.

Because remember that patriarchy's bumming you as hard as it's bumming us. We're bulimic, objectified and under-promoted. You, meanwhile, are unable to talk about your feelings lest you get punched in the nuts by "a lad" telling you not to be "a bender". You are unlikely to get custody of your kids, and are three times more likely to commit suicide. Feminism's about sorting all this stuff out. Because it's about equality. Not burning the penises. I can't emphasise enough how much it's not about burning penises. No burnt penises here.

3. Periods

We're still pretty traumatised about our periods, even though we're now 40. Being a woman doesn't make "being a woman" any easier. All that womb-shit is nuts. It's like having an exploding, insane blood-bag of pain up in your business end — nothing really prepares you for when it all kicks off. One day, you're just a kid on your bike. The next, you're suddenly having to wedge a tiny Barbie mattress in your knickers, crying while you watch Bergerac, and eating Nurofen Plus like they're Tic Tacs.

Men, imagine if, some time around your 12th birthday, some manner of viscous liquid — let's say gravy — suddenly appeared in your pants, in the middle of a maths lesson. And then it turned up every month for the next 30 years. You'd be all like "NO!" and "WTF?!?!" and "SRSLY??? THIS????" That's what we're like, too. We're not wise, or in touch with nature, or down with it. We're just people with a whole load more laundry issues than you. Have you ever tried to scrub blood out of a Premier Inn sheet at 6am, using just travel shampoo and your toothbrush? It's one of the defining aspects of being a woman.

4. Abortion

Likewise, imagine accidentally getting pregnant at 16, then having to run past a barrage of anti-abortion protestors outside your local clinic, all holding up pictures of dead foetuses. We're not dealing with this in a special, noble lady-way. We're like, "THIS IS ALREADY A REALLY, REALLY SHIT DAY. I PRESUME YOUR CONCERN FOR THE WELFARE OF CHILDREN EXTENDS INTO A LIFE SPENT VOLUNTEERING IN CARE HOMES, FOSTERING AND DONATING YOUR WAGES TO THE NSPCC — AND DOESN'T SOLELY REST ON HARASSING AND ABUSING TEARFUL, POSSIBLY RAPED WOMEN WHO ARE TRYING TO GET A SAFE, LEGAL MEDICAL PROCEDURE SO THEY DON'T FUCK UP THE REST OF THEIR LIVES."

Here's another thing we're too embarrassed to say: we'd love it if a big bunch of pro-choice men turned up at these clinics, and helped escort the scared women in. That would be some top bro solidarity.

5. Talking

In the last year or so, we saw this study, from America, and it broke our hearts a bit, because it explains so much: in a mixed-gender group, when women talk 25 per cent of the time or less, it's seen as being "equally balanced". And if women talk 25–50 per cent of the time, they're seen as "dominating the conversation".

And we remembered all the times on social media, or in conversations, an angry man has said, "Women are WINNING now. Women are EVERYWHERE. It is MEN who are being silenced", and it all made sense.

6. Fear

We're scared. We don't want to mention it, because it's kind of a bummer, chat-wise, and we'd really like to talk about stuff that makes us happy, like look at our daughters — and we can't help but think, "Which one of us? And when?" We walk down the street at night with our keys clutched between our fingers, as a weapon. We move in packs — because it's safer. We talk to each other for hours on the phone — to share knowledge. But we don't want to go on about it to you, because that would be morbid. We just feel anxious. We're scared. Given the figures, we can't sometimes help but feel we're just… waiting for the bad thing to come. Because that would be a realistic thing to think, and we like to be prepared. Awfully, horribly, fearfully prepared.

7. Tired

We're tired. So, so tired. From the moment we grew our tits, we've been cat-called in the street; commented on by relatives ("Ooooh, she's big-boned"; "Well, you'll be a heart-breaker") as if we weren't standing there in front of them, hearing all this. We've seen our biggest female role-models and icons shamed in the press, over and over: computers hacked and nude pictures released; sex-tapes released. So we know even success, and money, will not protect us from the humiliation of simply being a woman. We know we must have our babies when we're young — the eggs are running out! — but we must also work for less money, as discussed above. So that makes us tired.

This is why, maybe, women can become suddenly furious — why online discussions about feminism suddenly ignite into rage. Tired, scared people are apt to lash out. Anger is just fear, brought to the boil.

8. Wanking

We masturbate as much as you do. One of the few times I have been personally offended was when Martin Amis commented on a column I wrote about female masturbation. "Christ," Amis said, "that's sort of lad's mag talk — sort of more male than male."

Obviously, I am noble enough to recognise that Amis is from an older generation — one whose women, by and large, did not feel comfortable discussing their sexuality in any great detail. But it does seem amazing that a clever, well-travelled man, whose job it is to examine the human condition, and who had a pretty steamy relationship with Germaine Greer at one point, has never realised that women can be just as driven by their desire as men.

I'm gonna be honest with you — for the first five years of my adult life, most of my decisions were made by the contents of my pants. My vagina was — by way of Audrey II in Little Shop Of Horrors — constantly shouting "Feed me!", and breaking into musical numbers when I was trying to listen to my brain instead. If I had not discovered masturbation, I would have spent the majority of my time sitting on shed roofs, like a cat on heat, yowling at the moon. If a young woman isn't to go mad, then masturbation is a needful hobby, as vital as going on long country walks, to get a bit of air in your lungs, and pursuing the revolution. And what a hobby it is! It doesn't cost anything, it doesn't make you fat, you can knock it off in five minutes flat if you think about Han Solo, or some monkeys "doing it" on an Attenborough documentary, and it means you can face the world with a kind of stoned, post-coital cheerfulness that would otherwise require Valium, or constant spa-breaks.

There's a reason why God designed our bodies so that, when we lie down in bed, our hands naturally come to rest on our genitals. It's the Lord's way of saying, "Go on, have a fiddle. Find out how you work. And then, when you go out into the world, you won't be waiting for some bloke to come along and have sex on you. You'll be in the sex, too. It'll be like this… joint endeavour? A thing you can do together? That was kind of how I planned it all along, TBH. So, my Eleventh Commandment is 'Thou Shalt Buff Your Fnuh.' That's official. Signed, God."

9. Clothes

You know when we stand in front of a full wardrobe and say, "I don't have anything to wear!"? Obviously we have things to wear. You can see all the shit from where you are standing, fully dressed, ready to leave the house. What we mean is, "I don't have anything to wear for who I need to be today." What women wear is incredibly important and not just because we live in a society with a $1.5 trillion fashion-industry, and spend most of our spare time looking at cut-price Marc Jacobs handbags on theoutnet.com.

As we are the half of the world that still doesn't get to say as much as men (see stats earlier), how we look works by way of our opening paragraph in any social setting. Think of all the different kinds of looks women can have, depending on their clothes, hair and make-up: "Slutty". "Ball-busting". "Mumsy". "Manic Pixie Dream Girl". "Gym-bunny". "Mutton". "Nerdy". "Unfuckable".

Now think of all the ways men can dress. It's basically "some trousers". Ninety per cent of what men wear is "some trousers". You're just getting up in the morning, putting on your trousers and getting on with stuff.

And we fret about all this — appearance, clothes — because it matters. If we're still getting talked-over at meetings, is it because we're not dressing powerfully enough? If we're getting sexually harassed, is it because we're wearing the wrong skirt? In 2008, a rape case was overturned because the judge decided the alleged victim must have consented to sex, because her jeans were "too tight" for the accused to remove on his own. This is what we're thinking about, when we stand in front of the wardrobe. Will this outfit define the rest of today? Will it, if I am very unlucky, affect my life? Is this going to be the subject of a court-case? Could I run for my life in these shoes? Do I have anything for who I need to be today?

10. Male feminists

We're embarrassed when other women say, "Men can't be feminists!" We don't want to get into an argument, but we just can't see the logic in it. Feminism can only work if men are feminists, too — because the only indice by which feminism will succeed is based on how many people believe in it, support it, and want it to happen. By definition, it has to be a populist movement. There's no point in only 27 per cent of people believing in equality because the maths, very obviously, show that you won't be equal if 73 per cent of people think you're not. You can't go and… hide the feminism in a special secret place, and only let certain people have access to it. Besides, as discussed above, men need feminism almost as badly as women do. So, lady-balls to "men can't be feminists". We disbelieve that. In our vaginas.

11. Carbs

Our ultimate aim, when it comes to men, is to find an amusing mate we can have sex with, then sit on the sofa with, watching re-runs of Seinfeld and eating a baked potato. Discount all that Christian Grey/abs of steel/"bad boy" shit. Our priorities are: 1) Kindness; 2) Jokes; 3) High tolerance of carbs.

12. Trainers

It actually was us that threw those horrible old trainers of yours away. That story about how a time-portal opened up, and they were stolen away by your own teenaged self? That was a lie.

Caitlin Moran's fee for this piece has been donated to Refuge, refuge.org.uk

This article was first published in 2016.

Moranifesto by Caitlin Moran is out now, published by Ebury Press, £20

#Caitlin Moran #esquire #articles #feminism

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sav-wites-everything · 8 years ago

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What Do You Know About Babies? (Sherlock x Reader)

A/N: My first ever Sherlock fic!! I’ve loved Sherlock for a very long time and just recently finished Season 4!! I love the idea of Sherlock taking care of Rosie for John! A quick warning though, SPOILERS!!! This does kinda take place between the events of The Lying Detective and The Final Problem! I wanted Rosie to still kinda be a baby instead of a toddler like she is at the end of The Final Problem. I hope you enjoy it!! xx

Warnings: SPOILERS, flustered Sherlock!, protective Dad!John

Notes: Words in italics are flashbacks.

You hadn’t known Sherlock Holmes for very long. You met him when he came to interrogate you about the murder of one of your colleagues. ‘A Deadly Lesson’ Dr. Watson had called it. A rather funny name for the case of the dead professor. You were a professor as well, a professor of English Literature.

You remember meeting Sherlock Holmes all right. You caught his attention fast. He’d met people like himself before. Typically they were criminal masterminds or a sibling, but never someone who “teaches books” as he put it.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” the gray-haired detective inspector said warmly, sticking out a calloused hand. You shook it and smiled kindly at him. “I’m Detective Inspector Lestrade, and this is Sherlock Holmes, the other detective I mentioned on the phone.”

“Yes, I’m Sherlock Holmes, pleasure to meet you Miss…” the tall, curly-haired companion of Lestrade’s said, also sticking out a hand.

“Dr. (Y/L/N), but (Y/N) is just fine, Mr. Holmes,” you responded, shaking his hand in turn. He looked taken aback by the title of doctor but whipped out his cellphone and began to text. “Coffee, Detective Inspector?” You reached for the pot of coffee behind you.

“Oh, no, I already…” he began to say before you cut him off.

“I know you already had some. You had some black coffee at the office hoping to wash away the bitter taste of last night’s one night stand with something even more bitter. Clearly, it didn’t work. So how about some good coffee to replace the bitterness?” Lestrade stood stunned and out of the corner of your eye you could see Sherlock smirk, never taking his eyes off of his phone.

That was the first and last time you met Sherlock Holmes. He was very kind, rather attractive, and undoubtedly clever. He solved the murder that day. You were impressed. You had read the blog but to see it happen in person was very impressive. He reminded you of a detective novel you had read when you were younger. Who was it by? Sir Aaron… Andrew Conan… Oh, it doesn’t matter.

You met Sherlock Holmes two weeks ago. You never expected to get a text from him of all things. Perhaps a call to your office but how he got your cell number was beyond even someone as clever as you.

It was about 7:30 PM on Friday night. You were settling down into your comfy chair with a cup of tea and Hemingway. Your phone lit up on the end table. That was odd. You had just moved to London at the beginning of this school year and hadn’t made any friends close enough to text you on a Friday night.

You placed a slip of paper in your book and picked up your phone.

Help me. SH

Who is this?

I tentatively took a sip of my tea, waiting for a reply.

Make a deduction. After that, answer this. What do you know about babies? SH

You definitely didn’t expect this on a Friday night. Who could be asking you about babies on a Friday night and have the signature… It was Sherlock Holmes. John Watson had a baby. He’s looking after the baby.

You didn’t respond in a text but called the number that had texted you. The phone didn’t ring for even half a beat before Sherlock picked up.

“You’re fast. So, tell me what you know about babies,” Sherlock said hastily, a crying baby in the background. “I’m on the phone! Don’t be disrespectful!” Sherlock said, clearly turned away from the phone.

“Don’t yell at the baby, first of all. Second, what do you need to know? Where’s John?” you asked, trying to bite back a laugh.

“He’s out. I’ve never had to look after her for more than an hour and never at night. I don’t know what it wants.” He sounded like a kid responsible for a puppy for the first time in his life. “Will you just come over here?”

This question took you by surprise. You had only met Sherlock once two weeks ago and he was trusting you to come over and help him look after a baby. Of course looking after a child was no problem, you had babysat friends’ children before. It was the fact that you were the first person he thought of to ask instead of admitting defeat and calling the father. It didn’t feel right. You shouldn’t be the one to take care of a stranger’s child. That didn’t stop you, however, from stuttering a “S..Sure. What is the address?”

“221B Baker St. And hurry.”

You quickly threw on a coat and grabbed your purse before racing out to the street to hail a cab. What were you doing? What else were you going to do? Read The Old Man and the Sea for the fifth time? You saved Sherlock’s number into your phone on the way to Baker Street, in case of emergencies.

You gave a rapid fire knock to the door and heard a feminine voice approaching the door. “Who could that be?” She opened the door completely, clearly a woman used to welcoming visitors with open arms. “Oh, hello, dear. Who…”

The woman was in a floral dress, wine stained her bottom lip, and a hand was behind her back. “You must be the landlady,” you said with a smile, “I’m (Y/N) and I’m here to…”

Someone came stomping down the stairs. It was Sherlock. His curly hair was standing up where he had pulled it in frustration, his white shirt had the two top buttons undone, and a blue robe hung loosely around his shoulders. “Took you long enough! Did you walk here?” Sherlock exclaimed, gripping the banister until his knuckles turned white. “Never mind! Up here, quickly this time!”

“Nice to meet you,” you quickly said to the kind landlady before racing after Sherlock. You were affronted by the most disheveled flat you had ever seen and a screaming baby. In the middle of the flat, Sherlock was holding the baby out in front of him like it was a bag of snakes. You quickly took the baby from his arms and cradled her in your arms. “When was the last time she was fed?”

“Before John left,” he responded curtly.

“And when was that?”

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t keep a schedule of John!”

“You’re shouting isn’t helping the situation, Mr. Holmes,” you said while also trying to coo to the young baby.

“Sherlock, please,” he whispered.

You let out a huff of frustration before saying, “Was it more than 3 hours ago?”

“Oh, yes,” he said as if it meant nothing to him.

“Well, she’s hungry then, Sherlock,” you scolded him as you made your way to the fridge.

“How do you know its that and not something like a dirty diaper?”

As you reached the fridge you just shook your head and said, “Oh, trust me, Sherlock, you would know if it was that.” You opened the fridge and quickly shut it. You slowly opened it again, confirmed that you saw a jar of toes, and grabbed a pre-made bottle of formula. Gently cradling the baby in one arm, you warmed up the bottle of formula. As soon as it was warm enough, you presented the nipple to the baby and she took it hungrily.

“John should have told me about this inconvenience before he left,” Sherlock said over your shoulder, watching the baby.

“I’m guessing he did and you weren’t listening,” you responded, gesturing to the note on the fridge that read: SHERLOCK, DO NOT FORGET TO FEED ROSIE AT 7!!!

Sherlock grunted in response and whisked back into the living room, taking a seat at a cluttered table. You followed, taking a seat on the couch against the oddly decorated wall. “I do hope those bullet holes were added before the baby arrived,” you said worriedly.

“Why do you teach about books?”

You were taken aback yet again by the detective. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“You’re clever, like me. You’re too clever to do such a medial thing as read and teach about books.”

“Thank you, I think? I don’t believe reading and teaching about books is medial at all. Its very important for the mind and soul.”

“Soul,” he scoffed.

“Yes, the soul. That little thing inside of you that allows you to feel. You wouldn’t be taking care of Rosie here if you didn’t have feelings for you friend.”

“Oh, please, John and I are in no way.. He had a wife..”

“I don’t mean like that, Sherlock. I mean you love your friend, as a friend, a brother. You know how to feel, Mr. Too-Clever-For-A-Soul. Clearly, it is new to you, but you know how to feel. Reading can make you feel, teach you to feel.”

“I don’t read and I learned how to feel, as you put it.”

“Reading is one way to learn to feel. You’ve learned through your experiences. Others, like myself, learn through reading.” Rosie had finished off her bottle by now and you were holding her against you chest and gently patting her back, a towel over your shoulder.

Sherlock looked up at you as he noticed you shift with Rosie. His blue eyes bore into you and you could feel a blush rise to your cheeks. “You’re interesting,” he whispered as if he was talking to himself.

You didn’t know what to say. A silence took over the room until Rosie finally spit up. A look of pure terror crossed Sherlock’s face. You couldn’t help but let a giggle escape. “You did this too at some point,” you said as you changed out towels.

“I most certainly did not,” he responded, turning his attention back to the computer. You sat back down on the couch, leaning back and cradling Rosie against your chest. She was already fast asleep.

You looked up at Sherlock to suggest the you should leave but he was deeply enthralled with whatever was on the screen. A lock of curls ghosted over his forehead. His eyebrows were knit together and one strong hand was balled up, his cheek resting against it.

You let out a soft yawn, realizing how tired you were from a long day of grading papers. You let your head rest against the back of the couch, figuring Sherlock would wake you up eventually. Your eyes slowly drifted shut and you fell asleep, Rosie snoozing soundly on your chest.

Sherlock didn’t know how long you had been asleep but when he looked up at you to ask if you wanted to help solve a case, your eyes were shut and your mouth was slightly agape. He couldn’t help but to softly smile. He stood up from the desk and walked over to the pair of you. Rosie was curled up contently on your bosom. Not seeing a blanket in John’s chair like there normally was, Sherlock slipped off his robe and draped it over the two of you.

He gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face and admired your soft features. You were very interesting to Sherlock. He wanted to know more about your ideas on reading, about the way your mind worked similar to his, about you. You were right, he did love his friend, John. He wanted another friend he could love to, and maybe it could be you.

Sherlock slunk over to his chair, curling up in it so he could sleep, as well. He let his eyes shut but the peaceful image of you never left.

***

Sherlock woke up to the sound of heavy, familiar footsteps on the stairs. It was John. He was being loud. He’d wake you up.

Sherlock quickly, and quietly, made his way to the door. He opened it just before John and put any angry finger to his lips. “You’ll wake (Y/N)!” he hissed.

“Who’s (Y/N)? Where’s Rosie?” John said, a tone of worry in his voice. He pushed past Sherlock into the flat.

“I meant (Y/N) and Rosie, obviously,” Sherlock whispered.

“Who is that?” John inquired, pointing at you, still holding a sleeping Rosie. He was shaking with anger at seeing a stranger with his daughter.

“She’s uh… a friend.”

“A friend. I’m your friend. And what is she doing with my daughter?”

“Your daughter wouldn’t shut up so I needed help. She was the most logical person to call.”

“And I wasn’t? If you had a question, why didn’t you text me?” John and Sherlock had now moved to the kitchen so not to wake you and Rosie.

“You were out. You were “getting back in the game.” Although, I probably should have and rescued you from the terrible sex you had last night..”

“How did you.. Never mind. Are you sure she is safe? I’ve never met her or have even heard of her.”

“Yes you have. She’s the doctor of books I told you about.”

John’s previously serious expression softened and he chuckled at his friend. “Oh, you mean the English professor you haven’t shut up about.”

John noticed a flash of red cross Sherlock’s face as he looked over his shoulder to see if you were still asleep. “Well, you’re home now. Rosie is fed and rested. I have a thief to go catch. Leave a kettle on, I’ll be home soon.” With that, he was gone in a whip of a gray coat and a blue scarf.

John took a seat in his chair and opened the newspaper, figuring it was best to allow you both to sleep and not startle you. It was long before you woke up, though. “Sherlock?” you softly called as soon as you opened your eyes.

You sat up slowly, Rosie still asleep in your arms. John rose and walked over to you. “G’morning, I’m John. Sherlock’s popped out for a bit. I can take her if you’d like.”

You handed Rosie over to John who settled her into a bassinet. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Watson..” you began.

“John, please.”

“John. Again, a pleasure. I’m Dr.(Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m a uh… friend of Sherlock’s.”

“Yes, he told me.” You had beautiful (Y/E/C) eyes. “Thank you very much for helping him last night. For as clever as he is he can be rather dumb.” You both chuckled at this remark.

“Oh, it was no trouble at all. She was an absolute.. rose.” You smiled kindly at John who chuckled. You stretched your arms high and stood up, taking the robe with you and gently draping it over the couch. “I’m more than happy to help. Sherlock has my number if you ever need anything.”

John nodded and asked, “Would you care for a cuppa or some coffee?”

“Oh, no, but thank you, John,” you declined. “I should be getting home. I have more papers to grade.”

“Oh, of course, you’re a busy professor, I suppose.” John walked you down the stairs to the front door after you grabbed your coat and purse. “Thank you, again, for helping Sherlock.”

“You’re more than welcome. It was a pleasure. Sherlock was very…”

“Rude? Abrasive? Arrogant?”

You giggled. “Yes, but he was also kind, truly. I hope I’ll see you and Rosie again. Have a good day.”

“You too, (Y/N)!” John shouted as he waved at you from the front door.

You hailed a cab and finally checked your phone for the morning as you rode home. You had, yet again, an unexpected text that you couldn’t help but smile at.

Thank you. Library? Dinner? SH

A/N: OH GOODNESS!! This was so long!! I’m sorry for the length but I hoped you enjoyed it!! Should I make a part two because I definitely feel that I could make a part two! Let me know!! xx

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc

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