#sleepy little cats have existed for so long... thank god

[crowempress]

just know at all hours of the day i am thinking about the little frozen homotherium cub and giving it little kisses on the head and throwing it a birthday party in my mind

[godsfavoritescientist]

The Axolotl is a passive creature that rarely gets involved in mortal lives. It rests and it dreams and it visits other people's dreams, sometimes inspiring them, many times simply watching. It's lived for an unimaginably long time--a length of time that makes a trillion years seem like a blip--and it's completely at peace with the many things it's been and done. Some people worship it like a god, or see it as a representation of everything pure and good. It does not have much to say about these mortal interpretations. It simply is what it is.

When Bill Cipher calls out for help, it's delighted to finally meet him. Bill is the only one it will ever bring back to life. He's the only one it's ever able to, thanks to a certain set of peculiarities of their existence.

Bill Cipher is as active as the Axolotl is passive. He fights and he fights and he fights, and yet he never feels satisfied. He isn't content to watch the world around him in all it's mundane intricacies. He wants to shape every atom to his whims. And the things he can't influence, he burns to the ground.

Meeting the Axolotl is the strangest thing he ever experiences. The Axolotl doesn't speak to him the way it speaks to anyone else. It speaks with a friendly eagerness that borders on over-familiarity. It seems utterly unconcerned about the destructive potential that will be caused by bringing Bill back to life. Not that he's complaining, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him uneasy. It's like he's staring at a magic eye poster and missing the picture amidst the noise.

Once Bill is brought back, he picks up right where he left off. He gets so far in his plans, in fact, that he ends the world all over again. But this time, he survives the world being returned back to normal. With no more tricks up his sleeves, his lifelong dream having been achieved and foiled twice now, and having been forced by necessity to forge a couple of connections with others in his powerlessly reborn state, he crumples. And the worst part? At least one of the people he formed a tenuous connection with sees him end the world, and still forgives him for it. This is what *really* breaks him.

But from there, he can rebuild. From there, Bill can put himself back together and figure out who he's capable of being when he allows himself to be loved.

He lives for an incredibly long time. He grows and changes and evolves, and forms more genuine connections with other people than he could have ever imagined. And eventually, he does a lot of good.

And a much longer time after that, after he's gone through enough metamorphoses that he's changed his name a dozen different times over the eons, his boundless energy and curiosity evolves into wanting to curl up like a house cat in a sunbeam and get some long-needed rest. And by the time he reaches this point, he's realized why the Axolotl was so kind to him all those lifetimes ago.

He keeps an eye on a sleepy town in Oregon, long before it ever became Oregon. He inspires the minds that he needs to. And eventually, from his spot curled up outside the fabric of spacetime itself, he watches with great fondness as a little golden triangle tries to take over the world.

And when that triangle reaches out to him for help in one last desperate act, he is absolutely beyond delighted to be able to finally experience that conversation from the other end of it. He had almost forgotten how fiery and fierce he used to be. He'd almost forgotten the way he used to boil with fury and hatred and fear so intense that he could never quite look himself in the eye. Even now, that little triangle trembles when it looks up at him. It doesn't know if its life is at an end yet. It has no idea that it's really just begun.

And although the Axolotl knows it can't tell Bill everything that's in store for him, and what kind of god he becomes, it wants more than anything to take this brief moment of connection across time and space to show him that he is loved.

[iwritefandomimagines]

AARON HOTCHNER x READER: “Are you drunk?”

requested: prompt 10

masterlist

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

description: you’ve been fighting feelings for hotch for some time now, assuming he doesn’t feel the same. after witnessing office gossip and having a drink or two, hotch makes it clear you were wrong to assume that.

warnings: kissing, but nothing too explicit.

Another day of stolen glances. Another day of accidental touches when he was trying to stay away. Another day of sexual tension lingering in the air so thickly that it could be cut with only the sharpest of knives.

Aaron Hotchner was the bane of your existence, you were certain of it.

You’d been attracted to him since the day you first set foot into the BAU. He was still married to Haley, then, and you’d kept your distance because you respected that, but knew you couldn’t help your desperation to flirt with him. It helped that she knew how you felt -- she’d never liked you as a result.

When they got divorced, you supported him as best as you could. You thought about keeping your distance, not wanting to let yourself fall for him even more in a time of his vulnerability. But you couldn't let him suffer his heartbreak without knowing that, in whatever capacity, you cared.

But now that some time had passed, things had gone back to usual. In the past few weeks he seemed to avoid you entirely. You felt worried, like you’d imposed too much on his personal life and that was why he was avoiding you like the plague. 

Should you have stayed out of it?

He’d seemed incredibly grateful for your concern at the time, but what had changed? You didn’t want to ruin things, not with the man you were certain you were head over heels for.

Despite him trying his best to ignore you, the tension between you remained ever-present. Everyone seemed to notice, the girls taking it upon themselves to gossip and throw endless questions at you. They’d gone so far as to assume something had happened between you already, assuming that was why things were awkward. 

You were finishing up some paperwork, Garcia, Emily and JJ at your side as you pushed your last pile of folders to the back of your desk, “You’re telling us the absolute truth, right?” Penelope pressed, chin in her palm as she nosed at your personal life as ever. 

“Nothing happened between us, guys,” you laughed sourly, and they obviously could detect your tone, “He still loves her, I’m sure of it. It hasn’t been long, has it?”

Emily eyed you curiously, “And how do you feel about him?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how much to give away, “I suppose I’ve been lying saying I’m not even slightly attracted to him. But nothing will happen, he’s never going to feel anything for me... And he’s my boss. Besides, he’s been avoiding me for a while now...”

JJ laughed, glancing up towards Hotch’s office, “Y/N, he’s been undressing you with his eyes all week... And whenever you’re not in the office he’s asking after you, always making excuses about paperwork he needs from you.” 

You blushed, looking up and accidentally catching his eye, looking immediately back at the girls. Did he really ask after you? Of course you’d noticed that there was tension, but you assumed it was more on your part and that he was simply lonely as a result of his divorce.

“I-I don’t know guys,” you stuttered, raising to your feet and slinging your bag over your shoulder, “I’ve gotta head home anyway. I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow, okay?”

As soon as Hotch saw you stand, his eyes followed you the whole way out of the doors. He gulped, seeing the girls’ eyes trail to him and knowing that he’d been the topic of conversation prior to your exit.

He left his office, pacing over to where they sat with a stern expression on his face as ever, “Is everything okay with Y/L/N?” 

Penelope smirked, “Oh, she’s just a little pent up, I think,” she teased, debating letting the truth slip but deciding instead to just suggest, “I think you should speak to her, sir.”

Hotch just nodded, swallowing hard and heading back to his office to gather hs things and leave. 

“Oh my god, I’ve never seen Hotch leave so early... Do you think he’s really going to speak to her?” Emily whispered, and the girls all felt giddy as they hoped their friends would finally make the moves they’d wanted to for as long as they’d known them.

------

You were just falling asleep when a knock rapped at your front door.

You stumbled out of bed, hardly awake enough to realise the small slip nightdress barely covering your frame. 

You were surprised to find a slightly disheveled looking Aaron Hotchner, his tie pulled loose and his face twisted in an expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Sorry for-for turning up like this, Y/N. But I’d like to talk to you if that’s okay,” he took in your sleepy state then, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

You shrugged, “Not quite. But it’s alright, come in.”

He stumbled a little as he walked in and, considering he didn’t drink much usually you brushed it off and assumed he was just being awkward as he followed you to your couch.

“What is it, Aaron? Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “I’m sorry. For ignoring you, because it’s the last thing I wanted to do, darling. Really.” He sat beside you on the couch, closer than he’d ever usually sit, his warm breath over your face and allowing you smell the scotch on his tongue.

“Are you drunk?” 

Aaron’s hand reached up to your face, his palm cupping your jaw tentatively as his eyes searched yours for the right way to articulate his feelings to you, “I had a drink or two to make this... easier to say. You know I’m not good with talking about feelings, which is why I’ve avoided you recently.”

“What do you mean?” your breathing was ragged under his touch. Was he saying what you thought he was right now?

“I’ve got feelings for you, Y/N. Feelings stronger than I’ve admitted to myself for a long time... Everyone else could see it. Even Haley saw it, as she loved to shove in my face when filing for divorce,” he pulled your face closer to his, his eyes flickering between yours and your lips, “And when you helped me through the divorce I was so grateful but... I got scared. I was scared to let you in and admit that I felt anything for you.”

“Aaron I’ve had feelings for you since the first moment we met,” you whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his thumb as it sat just at the corner of your mouth, “I was afraid I was pushing it and that you just didn’t feel the same.”

He shook his head, “Y/N you’ve been on my mind constantly. I’ve pushed the feelings away for too long and I could see you talking to the girls earlier, when I saw them after they made it quite clear what was being discussed so I... I knew I needed to bite the bullet.”

You drew in a sharp breath as he leaned in so that your foreheads were touching. You’d never quite seen Aaron this tender and gentle, even in his heartbroken state. Shivers flew up your spine and you fought the urge to kiss him for a few moments, but he didn’t give you any more of a chance as he captured your lips in his.

The kiss was soft and didn’t last long, but the passion and longing couldn’t have been more fiery. He drew back nervously, “Sorry. Was that okay?”

“More than okay, Aaron,” you assured him, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips to reassure him, “In fact, I’d quite like it if you kissed me again.”

He laughed a little, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile before he kissed you again. This time the kiss was deep, his tongue gliding along your bottom lip as you parted your lips quickly. Your hands flew around his neck as he pulled you onto his lap, panting.

When you pulled back, his brows furrowed, “I don’t want to rush this, sweetheart, but I’d like to give this a try, if that’s what you want. You and me.”

You grinned, beaming like the Cheshire Cat as he nervously looked at you.

“I’d love that, Aaron. More than anything,” your hands found the bottom of his hair, tugging slightly as you kissed him again, “You and me.”

“You and me.”

“Finally.”

Aaron didn’t leave your house that night and, for that entire weekend, it was hard to find a moment where you weren’t occupied with each other. 

After all this time, the man you’d been pining over really did feel the same.

And he more than made up for all the time spent waiting.

-----

thank u for reading! i hope this was okay... feel free to keep requests coming (especially criminal minds ones !!!) because i have so much free time to write rn hahahah <3 if you need ideas, here’s my prompt list & if you want to read more of my stuff -- here’s my masterlist!

[braindeadbaddie]

A Case Study in Kisses: Bajifuyu Through the Years

half for me, half for you, sticky kisses for two

Chifuyu and Baji will always split half a peyoung yakisoba.

They will buy one..two or ten, eat half of each, and then switch.

Baji is sentimental, and although Chifuyu thinks it’s a little impractical, he indulges him because he loves him. He loves to think that this is something that they do. This is theirs.

Baji does not eat peyoung yakisoba with anyone else, because when Chifuyu is done with his half, he always cups his face, and kisses him deep. He licks his way into his mouth, bites his bottom lip, and sucks on his tongue until Chifuyu is a whimpering, withering mess.

“For the extra flavor,” Baji says while licking his lips when he pulls away.

Then he goes on to continue eating, like he didn’t turn Chifuyu’s brain to mush.

Baji doesn’t tell him, but peyoung yakisoba always makes him crave his kisses. And the flavor always tastes a bit better from Chifuyu’s lips.

melting clouds

“Thank you for your patronage, have a good day,” Chifuyu says with a cheery voice as he waves off the last customer of the day.

Chifuyu sighs as the customer service smile melts off his face.

Today has been a long day. A very very long day.

He rubs the side of his neck, trying to work out the extra stress that has built there as he walks towards the door to flip the sign to “closed.” He lets out another long sigh before turning around and walking through the store to look for his boyfriend, so they can hurry up and get home, where they can hide away in the covers and pretend nothing exists but the two of them.

He turns into the cat food aisle and sees his boyfriend… laughing with Kazutora.

Now…Chifuyu has forgiven Kazutora for the pain of the past. He understands why he did what he did and how he lost his sanity to the world. He loves Kazutora, because Baji loves Kazutora, and because to some extent, he gets Kazutora.

So he understands exactly what is behind the look in his eyes when he looks at Baji.

Chifuyu’s been there too.

He swallows, try to work down some of the jealousy that is working into his guts.

It doesn’t work.

Fuck it.

Chifuyu walks up to the pair, throwing his arms around Baji, and nuzzling his face in the side of his neck. He gives him a squeeze as he lets out his third and loudest sigh. He feels the rumble of his boyfriend’s laugh before he hears it, the two working in tandem to send a hot thrill down to his toes, just as stepping into a warm bath would.

“Long day?” Baji asks, the sympathy apparent in his voice.

He nods, the exhaustion catching up to him as he rests his head against the back of Baji’s shoulder.

“The store is mostly clean, I can go count the register and finish everything up if you guys wanna get home a bit earlier…” Kazutora says, his voice masking most of the envy Chifuyu knows he feels.

“You sure?” Baji says, the rumble of his deep voice soothing Chifuyu’s heart. He could fall asleep standing up.

“Yeah definitely. Besides, I owe y’all one remember,” he says.

Chifuyu only sleepily hums, arms loosening around Baji’s waist. He feels his boyfriend turn around and wrap his arms around him to keep him upright.

“Well since this one is so tired, I’ll let ya. Thanks, Tora,” Baji says appreciatively.

“Mm, thanks Tora…” Chifuyu mumbles out, leaning heavily on Baji’s shoulder. He hears Kazutora’s retreating footsteps over the soft lull of Baji’s heart.

“You look like a little kitten,” Baji whispers softly, carding his fingers through Chifuyu’s fingers.

“Baji,” he mumbled, leaning into the touch. He tips his head up, searching for a kiss, all without opening an eye.

Baji chuckles and plants a small kiss on his nose.

“Baji….” he whines, feel the skin burning with the oncoming blush.

The rumble from Baji’s boisterous laugh, shakes Chifuyu up enough to flutter his eyes open and pout.

He feels the way Baji’s breathe gets caught in his throat, watching with sleepy eyes at the way his Adam’s apple bops up and down.

“God, you’re so pretty it’s unfair,” Baji mumbled before gracing him with a pillow soft kiss.

Chifuyu sighs into it, and for the first time that night, he feels all the stress, all the worry, and the entire world melt away.

All that matters right now is Baji’s soft kiss, lifting him up up up, causing him to float away.

Cloud 9 could never be as sweet as Keisuke Baji’s lips.

the sweetest sound (my name on your lips)

“Chifuyu,” Baji says with his beloved’s head tucked under his chin.

“Yes Baji-san,” he answers, his back firm against Baji’s chest.

“You know…you should start calling me by my first name. I don’t know why you’ve kept these formalities up like we haven’t been together for like….ever” he mumbles into his hair.

He almost misses the way Chifuyu stops breathing. But who could blame him…his heart is going so fast he can barely hear or feel anything but thump thump thump thump.

Chifuyu lowers the heat on the stove, where he’s making tea and turns around to face Baji. He looks up at him, a pink blush dusting his face, his plump bottom lip caught in his pearly teeth.

God, how could his boyfriend look so cute, so sweet, so absolutely breathtaking with nothing but Baji’s big sweatshirt on in the dim afternoon light in his kitchen.

Chifuyu could run Hakkai and all the other models in the world out of business.

“K-Kei…” he says bashfully, intoxicating green eyes darting between Baji’s eyes and….everywhere but Baji’s eyes.

“Hah…” Baji breathes out as the air is punched out of his lungs, blood rushing to his face.

“Kei…” he says again, more firmly, holding his gaze this time.

Baji bites his lip to stop himself from making anymore embarrassing sounds.

“Kei…” Chifuyu whispers softly, tilting his head just the slightest.

“God…” Baji groans out before rest his forehead against his boyfriend’s. He presses a firm kiss to his lips, before doing it again and again and again.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Chifuyu,” he whispers softly into the small space between them.

Chifuyu mumbles out something incoherent before pressing a small kiss to the corner of Baji’s mouth.

“Baji-san,” he whispers back.

“No no. Kei.” he replies firmly, looking dead into his boyfriends mesmerizing oasis of green. “You have to get used to it because you’ll be ‘Baji-San’ one day too”

Then blush that sparks across Chifuyu’s face makes Baji fall in love all over again.

He watches him gulp, let out a shaky breath before looking up into his eyes.

“Ok…” he mumbles out.

lazy morning dew

“Kei…” Chifuyu says sleepily, caressing his lover’s torso with his ear pressed to his chest.

The man beneath him hums, tightening the arm around him. Chifuyu loves the vibrating feeling the courses from his boyfriend’s body into his. He plants a small kiss right over his heart, then plops his chin over his folded hands, looking up at the love of his life.

Baji looks down at him, rubbing soft circles into his skin. His grey eyes sparkle in the sunlight that seeps in between the blinds, shining in contrast against his beautiful sea of black hair, making them look like far away stars in the night sky.

And Chifuyu is helpless to do anything but cling to them like a lost traveler, trying to find his way.

“God, you’re so gorgeous,” he mumbled out, unable to stop the words from flowing out of him.

He feels a light blush rise to his face, but he can’t find it in him to feel embarrassed. Not with butterflies dancing around his stomach at the way Baji’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. Not with the way Baji’s cheekbones start to color in a pretty pink. Not with the way all the love in the world seems trapped inside Baji’s eyes.

“How can you say that when you look like this…?” Baji mumbles out, bringing up a hand to cup his face

“Chifuyu…” Baji whispers, rubbing his thumb across Chifuyu’s blushing face. “Man, you look like a dream.”

He feels all the breath leave his lungs in a soft whimper, helplessly nuzzling Baji’s palm. His eyes flutter close and holds his breath as his boyfriend’s sweet lips meet his own.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over this. Not after knowing Baji for 13 years , being with him for the last 7, and living with him for the last 6.

He doesn’t think he could ever get over the way Baji’s lips brush softly against his in the morning, before planting them firmly in a sweet kiss. He loves the way he always uses his hand to guide Chifuyu, the way his arm tightens around him. He loves the way he never rushes in the morning, taking his time to explore Chifuyu with his lips, his tongue and his sharp teeth.

As Chifuyu wraps his arms around Baji’s neck, sinking deeper into the kiss, he think this is how the Earth must feel, being kissed by the sun every morning. Softly, slowly, bringing it to life in a new way, every day.

[rumblelibrary]

I'm not sure if you have already done something like this before, and if you did, please let me know, I'd love to read it, BUT I was wondering if you could do a little thing, maybe with Sebastian Zöllner, where he is like totally behind on every fucking deadline, work is just piling up, he got into stress with his ex, the dishes are not done, he should go take out the trash, you know, everything is just piling up and he just cracks under the pressure, severely doubting his worth as a person. And his friend, the reader, gotta try their best to build him up again, telling him all the things they love about him, and it slowly turns into a love confession without them noticing.

Is this too elaborate, does that make sense for Seb? Idk. To me it does? Like he's always very...Seb around other people, but deep down I feel like he's always under this pressure to live up to his own and others expectations, wanting to be big and famous and perfect in a way.

I'm so sorry, brain go brrr.

Never Enough [Sebastian Zöllner x Reader]

Word Count: 4k Warnings: bad habits (heavy smoking and drinking), self deprecation, depression and some fluff in the end. A/N: I loved this prompt, I love to write Sebastian so thanks to you once more for giving me this opportunity

He should have probably realised something was wrong when the ashtray was vomiting cigarettes out from its dooming position beside the laptop.

He nervously used the left part of the one he just ended to scavenge some space and just pressed it along the others.

Or maybe when after another sip of the same cold coffee mixed with cheap gin he felt the walls of his stomach revolting and stirring against him, threatening a much bigger damage.

Or, again, when he felt like calling back Elke because he was so alone and he was hungry and tired, and she might hate him but he could pull some puppy eyes and maybe it would work. It usually did.

The truth was that he shouldn’t have taken up so many jobs, but the bank account was crying and he needed them, he needed the money.

But again: writing about the umpteenth girl- artist performing naked on a famous historic location?

Or do we have to talk about the way somebody splashed some colour here and there  on a canvas saying it is the catharsis of his young mind against the social construct?

Please, may God spare him from the man calling himself landscape artist because he takes pictures of naked girls on a field.

Charged up with this amount of nothingness, he could just write and delete, write and delete, words count going quickly up to 400 only to go back at 0 in a snap of his fingers over the buttons, because he couldn’t just tear them down. He had to give them some hope, a glimpse of potential he couldn’t see and he wasn’t even aware it existed. Each of them disgusted him, but he was specifically asked to be entertaining and not a killer with his words.

So he kept swiping up videos and photos of these artists, trying to find one thing, one holy grail to get attached to and finally write one good optimistic line in the middle of the words he had to pull up to keep a moderate tone.

He rubbed his temple running over his hairline, which by the way was perfectly fine, before his hand reached down and he touched his t-shirt pulling on the neckline to gather some air, he was wearing his pyjama still, white stained shirt on blue tartan pants. He raised up the shirt and bowed his head down giving in a long inhale from the inside and just cringed to himself.

He looked around as he couldn’t stand up, if he did then he will get only more distracted and these articles needed to be ready for tomorrow.

He noticed the spray against the mosquitos on the floor, those little bastards always hiding under his desk to bite his ankles, he picked it up and sprayed it over himself like it was perfume hoping to ignore the need of a shower for few more hours.

His eyes scanned the small studio flat he was living now: the dishes sticking out of the sink, the noisy fridge buzzing. The one table that was also his work desk filled with used mugs, stained plates covered in cigarettes and leftovers, empty packages of his favourite brand discarded everywhere: from the bathroom up to the couch and to the small bed he owned. Damn, if he run out of cigarette it will be hard to ignore how he also run out of food.

The space was dark and gloomy, some of his stuff still packed up, the fake pop art panting of him and Elke staring at him reminding him of his other loss.

He didn’t touch the bed in days, he just slept on the seat or on the couch.

His attention was attracted by his phone buzzing.

He sat up straight as it was her, it was Elke.

Did she sense his discomfort? 

“Elke” he picked up the call in a second.

“Wow, a quick answer, did you have your phone already in your hand or it happens just so late at night?”

Her sarcasm did’t go past him, but he just thought how long it was since he heard a human voice and not the recording of some idiot calling himself artist.

“No, I was thinking of you”

“Yes, sure, look I have sent you an email with the bills of the time you were here, the ones you have left to pay and it is only fair that you pay at least half of them”

“Sure” he just said it because he wanted to go past the point of money, he wanted her back. Maybe he could crush at her place, feel her hands through his hair, shower, sleep some good sleep and the articles will come around in few types “Elke, I was thinking we might…”

“I just called you for the bills”

“I know, but maybe we could have” his eyes darted at the top right of his laptop screen to see the time “a drink together?”

She huffed a laughter as he frowned lightly “I know you Seb, if it is money or sex what you’re looking for that door is closed and it has been for a long time”

“I know” he murmured as he let out a breathy sigh, a dooming sense of loneliness creeping over him like a giant spider ready to wrap him up and eat him “I just hoped…”

“Don’t hope Sebastian, you’re already an hopeless cause”

She hung up on him and he was left there, he kept that same pose with his phone against his ear. His eyes trailing once again over the empty page of his document on the screen, on the chaos surrounding him.

He nibbled on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pained area.

He pushed the phone back down on the table with a tremble of his jaw and a shaky hand.

She was right.

What he did of his life anyway? He lost most of his occasions in life, he was now in his thirties and he concluded nothing of what he hoped to be, he failed in all the departments both as an artist and as a critic.

A jack of all trades is a master of none, and maybe only the first type of the famous quote could be applied to him.

He couldn’t even take the trash out or he couldn’t remember the last time he ate something that was vaguely resembling of fruits or vegetables. It is all good when you imagine yourself as a bohemian rooting against the world, when you convince yourself that’s only the proof you needed to know you are fighting well against a system of art that privileges banality and marketing over real artistic value and that, one day, all your struggles will be worth it.

Even Picasso was poor for a long time in Paris.

Damn, maybe to be in a situation like this in Paris would sound more romantic.

But the truth was: he never imagined to have to do it alone, that life would feel so overwhelming, that there wouldn’t be anything but extreme struggle, anger, loneliness and a terrible diet.

For a moment he wished to be a baby again, to be the bright boy he was and let mommy take care of his needs and his dirty shirt and empty stomach. He wished that maybe somebody noticed him before, that somebody saw his talent and helped him to pull it out instead of leaving him to do it on his own only to come late to every step.

And now it is too late, he is lost in the sea of terrible paid jobs and anguishing relationships, let’s not forget maybe he indeed had a receding hairline and he was doomed to get bold .

He squeezed his eyes as a soft sob took over his lip, hand running over his forehead as he pulled on his hair justifying his tears with some physical pain. He shook his head as he tried to gain back some composure, hand flung over to pick up his coffee mug and giving in a long gulp of the coffee, the same one he swore before to not touch again, only to almost choke on it, couching it out only to pick up the bottom hem of his shirt to clean his laptop screen.

He fucking hated to write on a computer, the old typewriters inspired him but that damn ink was too expensive now for his sore pockets.

He smirked to himself as he kept doing it, finding good excuses to call himself off any responsibility. But maybe Elke was right, well she surely was, she had two degrees, maybe he was really a lot cause. He frowned as he wiped slowly the screen with his already stained shirt, the wetness sticking then against his skin as soon as he let it go giving him another shiver.

He didn’t have even the strength to cry, he could only accept it was over.

The curse that he shouted out loud when he heard knocking at the door, smashing him out of his thought spiral, generated an immediate anger reaction from him.

“Fuck, shit, if it is the fucking neighbour, I swear I will kill her cat or that rat she has as cat, fucking hell”

He grumbled as he stood up moving across the table not caring about his state, he only wanted to crawl back into a ball and maybe nuzzle a bit somewhere.

When his death glare appeared after the door opened in a powerful swing his eyebrows lifted immediately finding you on the other side.

He blinked, one of those sleepy blinks where somebody closes his eyes and then opens them really wide to make sure it is not made up in their brain, that one.

His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You should wash your mouth with holy water Sebastian” you said shaking your head raising your arms to show him some paper bags “I am bringing food and body shower”

He shook his head “Are you calling me stinky?”

“I am” You quickly replied moving past him into his place ignoring his groan.

He stood by the door slowly closing it, he was sure that old bitch was looking through her peephole, only then he stared at you try to make your way into the filthy kitchen. He was really embarrassed about his antics, but surely this time he exceeded some record.

“I am speechless Seb, I helped you with the moving and this place seems to have taken over you” you said as you knew he was in some rut when he kept such a long phone silence.

He was usually always texting, sending memes or one sentence texts.

You cared about him, deeply, you knew he was full of flaws and little quirks, but that’s what made him special. Nevertheless, you were worried about the state of the place, how it showed the way he let himself get dragged through the days. So he observed you, better to say, your back, the way you moved around opening the window to let fresh air inside, turning on a lamp to make some light that wasn’t just the blue one of the screen. Pulling out commodities and food from your magic bags like some sort of Mary Poppins of struggling writers. How you poured soap in the dirty load of dishes and pans, the way you marched securely to his desk to pick up that filthy mug and you frowned just sniffing at it.

“Is that poison?”

“Rat poison” he corrected you.

You shook your head as you cleaned a glass and filled it with water and among the groceries you pulled out a banana.

“Have this now, it will help” you said and he took the glass with one hand and the banana with the other like his brain was shut down.

He stared at you as you leaned your head slightly on side, he went through bad times after the break up but you had never seen him in such a helpless state.

He was chaotic but he always loved to keep up his appearance, to give that handsome and damned kind of vibe.

“Sebastian” you called him as his eyes spaced out and now where back on you “Are you alright?”

He observed you, he stared at your face like he was trying to recognise you, truth it was he kept pushing himself to say yes, say yes, say it is all good, make a joke, a remark, keep it up. You don’t need his burden, you don’t need to hate him like Elke and others do.

Just say yes.

“No” he said as his lips trembled and you watched his ironic mask fall right in front of you as he looked away hiding his tears, real tears, not the ones he can play out whenever he needs.

Just as quickly as you gave him the banana and the water you took them off his hands afraid he might hurt himself by dropping the glass in particular.

"Seb" you called his attention as he sobbed moving like a bird trying to hide his face against his own shoulder.

You took his now empty hands dragging him toward the couch and kicking off the pile of dirty clothes and discarded books on top of it to make him sit down with you.

"Talk to me"

He didn't, the man that was never out of words, even in the times he should have been, was now silent as a tombstone staring away from you as you gave a gentle squeeze to his hands. It pained you to see him in such a state.

So weak, so helpless like a lost child.

"I can't help you if you don't talk"

Sebastian shook his head still staring at the wall.

"You can't help me"

"Is it about writing? I can proof read you, it will be a moment"

He shook his head again making, hair bouncing from side to side.

"No, it is not important if I write or not"

You frowned at that comment.

"What the hell?" you just blurted out "Seb you're a talented writer, you're passionate, funny, witty, why shouldn't it be important?"

He looked up at you shaking his head "I can't write, I can't put together two sentences"

Your eyes travelled onto his side profile, truth to be told he looked worn out but he was still handsome like only Sebastian Zöllner could be. He had that chaotic charm, even with a wrinkled suit he was fearless, strong, poignant. You couldn't avoid him, he owned every place he stepped in and you could feel his gaze run through your bloodstream.

When he asks a question, he meant it, it was a test run into your bones and you loved every second of it.

His lips tightened as he diverted his gaze finally to you. You knew his relationship with Elke was important, he cared about others even if he didn't show it daily like most people do.

"Is it Elke?"

"No, she was just right"

"About what?"

He gulped, his throat dry as he pulled his bottom lip in his mouth grinding his teeth over it like playing something through that gesture.

"About me"

"Breakups are always shit, don't you even.."

"No Y/N" he interrupted you, he was serious, maybe his voice trembled but he wasn't lying or playing some role "I am really a lost cause, I mean look at his place"

His hand waved around the small flat like a drunk orchestra director.

"It is pure trash, I haven't finished unpacking, I didn't have food until you came, I am unable to look after myself, to look after the people that I care about. I worked so hard to be an artist and then I became a critic and now I am so knee deep into my own shit that I have more debts than entries, more failures than successes, more haters than friends"

He gulped down, the waterline of his eyes dangerously red and he sniffled up as he let out a little weak whisper "I just wish I could disappear"

"No"

It came out of you like a lighting bolt, it surged out of you before you could even elaborate. Like an order. A command.

"Seb, you're now in a rough patch of life, but you have always worked hard and well as a writer"

"I am a writer because I failed as an artist"

"You're a writer because you know of what you're talking about, because you're able to see the difference between marketing and passion, between hard work and laziness, because you respect that profession and it makes you the best critic"

"I just want to destroy them all because I am envious, Elke always said I am fuelled by my own envy”

"I have read pieces of yours only encouraging the rightful and bringing down the real frauds"

He shook his head as he was just fixating on the wrong, on the flaws, on the problems.

You huffed cupping his cheeks to force him to look at your eyes.

"Look at me" you said not admitting replies "you are talented in what you do, you are one of the best in your field and you're not on some big magazine only because they know they will have to put up with your shit: with the fact you always meet the people, you look at art pieces in presence, you touch them, you research the colours, you scrutinise everything to the bone"

He took your hands hating to be held like that but he squeezed them in his owns.

"And yes, you're allergic to ironing clothes and washing dishes is your personal nightmare, and yes, you give out many temper tantrums and have a terribly dark sense of humour, you are a failure at time and money management, you love filthy rich stuff and smoke like your life depends on it"

He stared at you, he listened quietly as you knew him from so long and many people, Elke included, wondered what you gained from helping him or just being around him that much. He often teased his ex about being jealous of you and she always said that it was like being jealous of a mortgage.

"So you agree?"

 "I agree to say you are flawed like all of us, that you are just the perfect balance to your writing, you're what you write. You're passionate, you give out the two hundred percent of what you can give, you are like this, you go all-in in everything you do, there's no compromise, no mid way, no foreseeable change of direction, you speed up into the darkness and don't look back. You are bold, you take risks, you let people hate you because you do not compromise with who is son of who or who is the director of what gallery, you judge people over their real qualities. Because you talk to them in their face, because you don't hide that yes, you want to be great, because you're handsome and charming and smart, nobody can outsmart you in your field, not even that idiot you hate that much"

"Golo Fucking Moser" he murmured

"Golo Fucking Moser" you repeated with a chuckle "you don't have anything to envy to him beside the bruises he probably has on his knees for bending down to anyone"

He chuckled at that comment.

"And also, you're more attractive, that pisses off Seb, it is unfair to the poor man”

He leaned his head on side as you wouldn't normally shower him in compliments, he had enough ego for that, but you had never seen him like this and you wished to never see him again in such a state.

"You find me attractive?"

"Well for sure you're an eye candy" you joked

"I mean it"

You rolled your eyes blushing a bit and huffing a chuckle "I do, alight? It is universal knowledge"

He looked at you as he still held your hands in his, his thumbs making soft shapes over the back of your hand.

"That I am attractive or that you find me attractive?"

You groaned looking away with an embarrassed giggle “okay, okay, I see you're back in yourself, let's eat now"

You moved to stand up but he didn't do the same remaining sat in his spot.

"Tell me"

"I pumped your self esteem enough, now let me go"

He chuckled softly, he never really thought you'd be interested. He usually shows off so many bad traits that he has to tone himself down and really try hard to attract someone. It is all an effort on his part to appear better or at least less quirky.

And then now look at you, appreciating even his shit show.

"Y/N" he murmured giving you a soft squeeze. You kept silent not daring now to meet his gaze. He bowed his head trying to reach for your eyes with his gaze and he looked up at you, a smile that wasn't provocative over his lips.

You pulled back yanking your wrists off his grip to move straight into the kitchen corner.

You begun pulling ut some fresh vegetables and bread, you also got some cheese knowing he loves it, wanting him to have a good dinner.

He followed you almost immediately and soon you found his arms grasping you once more in a hug, his chest pressed against your back, his forehead on your shoulder.

"Seb, you..."

"I know, I stink, just give me a moment" he said and you obliged him gently caressing his arms around you.

You hated to be in the friend zone, but you wouldn't be able to survive to lose him forever or to have him joke about it.

Now he was quiet, tender like a hurt pup.

"Thank you, you know you can count on me too, right? For anything” he said and you chuckled softly “I know, you’re my favourite avenger”

He nodded brushing his crisp beard against your cheek and after few minutes stuck in that hug he dropped a kiss on your neck "love you”

He pulled back giving you a smile as he picked the shower gel you left on the counter bringing it with himself to the bathroom with a soft hum.

You smiled a bit bitterly to yourself as you guessed it was meant in a friendly way, but today it was alright. You could endure it. Also that kiss, he always did it when he was drunk, at parties or in the taxi back home after a viewing. It was his cuddly way to say things without saying them, without rambling, and you appreciated that silent language. 

Maybe now he was drunk over his own feelings.

Just like you.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme  @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo @alindeluce @zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahling @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @archangelproperty

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #15

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Richard-sensei’s Cooking Classroom

On a bright morning in Kandy, a provincial town from Sri Lanka, a man was standing still in his kitchen. Leaning against the wall was a Japanese book titled “Breakfast for People Who Live Alone”. There were three items on the menu. Just an omelet with ketchup on top, boiled sausages and fruit salad yogurt.

Regardless, the kitchen where the man was standing was an explosion of colors, as if it were the atelier of some Dadaist painter. Perhaps he was wrong in trying to make an omelet, the blond man thought, tilting his head despondently. Loved by the god of beauty, his blond hair swayed smoothly, and on the wall behind him, the exploded omelet was scattered in all directions, giving off an artistic atmosphere. It was obvious that in order to cook an omelet on a frying pan, it was necessary to shake up said pan, but the specific method of how hard one should shake it had not even once made an appearance in his life, much like fairies and unicorns from fictional stories. As a result of him jerking the pan with moderate adjustment, the omelet had flown off, hitting the wall and dripping down under the influence of gravity.

The beautiful man cast his eyes at the opposite side of the kitchen with a melancholic look as well. His golden eyelashes reflected a rainbow-colored prism and shone like an emerald-green sea under the morning sun. In a corner, where a microwave and water heater sat on top of the kitchen table, something orange had burst all over the place from within the microwave. Just why did food blow up so often, the man wondered, silently ashamed of his ignorance for trying to reduce just two rules of thumb to common sense. When he put three vacuum-packed blood sausages in the microwave and warmed them up, the sausages lost their original shape with a faint explosive sound. Obeying the instructions that said, “Bain-marie or microwave”, the man had chosen the microwave, which seemed less difficult, but probably due to some process being neglected or the heating time being incorrect, the sausages had undergone a magical transformation, looking like some sort of eerie monster.

Moving his feet so as not to make a sound, the man headed to the dining room, lightly placing a hand on the large table and elegantly gazing at the tabletop. Fragments of yellow and green were floating on a sea of white.

“Fruits yogurt,” the man whispered, as if it were a magic spell, heaving a spring breeze-like sigh.

It was just chopped fruits floating on yogurt. Taking into account the possibility that he could not cut the fruits too meticulously, the man was out of luck to have a slicer with him, and by the moment he realized that this one was apparently not supposed to be used for fruits but rather for slicing things such as cabbages and carrots into thin pieces, the fruits that he had failed to chop had gone flying over the table, surrounding the bowl of yogurt and instantaneously creating a Genesis-like scene on the tabletop. It was chaos.

On 360 degrees, no matter where he looked, it was a foodstuff hell. After looking around one more time at the artistic misery he had created and sighing coarsely, he started anew and began doing a quick cleaning.

   “Morning, Richard. You slept well, I see.”

“Good morning, Seigi. So you wake up early even in Sri Lanka. Short sleepers have shorter lives. Didn’t you go to bed yesterday when it was already past midnight?”

“That’s fine for today. I have a guest here, after all. I’ll catch up with my sleep tomorrow.”

“I have not done so much to be called a ‘guest’.”

“There, there; let’s leave that for after we eat.”

His face looking like he was checking on something, the man whose appearance was impeccable even first-thing in the morning, as usual, glanced at the kitchen and dining room of my Sri Lankan house, and then let out a tiny sigh, stopping by a place close to the garden.

“Hey, could it be you woke up early this morning? Like, around 5AM...”

“Why?”

“I wonder if it was my imagination.”

In this three-story house, the first floor was a shared space for the dining room and bathroom, while the second and third floors had bedrooms. The room that I used as my main one was on the second floor, and the room on the third floor was used when Richard came over to be my overseer, but only the first floor had a bathroom. Whenever someone was going down to the first floor, one could tell by the sound of them stepping on the stairs. That was no big deal when I was alone, but this was the kind of house that would disturb other people’s sleep if I didn’t walk quietly whenever I needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night.

At around five o’clock, probably because I was drowsy, I had the feeling that someone had gone downstairs. I went back to sleep thinking that maybe Richard, who was looking after me despite having a jetlag, felt like having a late-night snack or something, but it was apparently a wrong guess.

Said man, dressed in a soft-looking shirt and the beige pants that he usually wore when he was relaxed, was standing still with eyes wide-open. It seemed he had noticed what was on the table. I was happy with the reaction.

“I’ve got breakfast for us. Hope it suits your taste.”

“Why? You said yesterday that your breakfast was just cereal and fruits.”

“I indeed said this yesterday, but I wanted to show it’s really not like that every single day. I also didn’t want you to worry for no reason.”

Plain omelets, sausages and fruit salad. For some reason, this house had many pottery dishes from European brands instead of Sri Lankan ones, but they were working out well for today. The paintings of green and pink pedicels over a white background were apparently from a German brand. It was actually my first time making a breakfast like this, which looked like it could show up in a commercial for some newly built apartment building and wasn’t as filling as its appearance suggested, but it had been surprisingly fun.

“I saw the recipe book in the kitchen. It’s a present for me, right? Thank you. I was happy to read a book in Japanese after so long, so I decided to make the part that showed up when I opened it into our menu. Now, now, please have a seat and eat up.”

For about solid ten seconds, Richard stared at the one-plate breakfast, his gaze looking like he was seeing a stone that he had never set his eyes on before, but then, after giving a start as if just remembering that I existed, he sat down with his same-old graceful demeanor.

“Well then, shall we?”

And so, Richard ate breakfast next to me. At times like these, this man would become extremely well-mannered, taking notice of and praising the details, such as the fineness of the omelet’s texture and the beauty of the fruit cuts in the yogurt, as if he were evaluating a five-million-yen jewelry or something. Even while being in Sri Lanka, I sometimes thought that if there were teachers like him in middle or high school around Japan, it would save many children.

“Thanks; that makes me happy. I’m benefiting from it too. Getting so many compliments for just boiling sausages.”

I didn’t know very well how to describe Richard’s face when I said that. His expression seemed like it could be the theme of a masterpiece painting, as if the exceptionally beautiful man had suddenly been reminded of an indescribable pain in the depths of his chest, but was struggling not to expose it in his facial expression. When I asked what was up, the reply was a gentle smile. His usual face was already back.

“I believe I have already said this several times, but you are extremely smart. You decipher the texts, assemble the methods in your head and put them to practice. There are more hardships in this process than you can imagine. Nevertheless, you specialize at it. This is clearly a talent of yours. Be sure to cherish it.”

“I will. But, well, I think doing my best because someone else’s gonna eat it also counts.”

For security reasons, I wasn’t allowed to invite guests to this house. I was sometimes called over to the house of a local friend I had made, and then I’d cook a simple dish there, but guests that make several meticulous dishes on the spot were probably not very welcome. So whenever there were days like these, when “guests” officially recognized by the house’s owner, Saul-san, occasionally came over, it was a great opportunity for me have a change of pace.

While thanking Richard for washing the dishes, I cleaned up the dining room and before moving on to stone study, which was my daily routine in the morning (at any rate, I had to examine stones thoroughly, guess their prices and drill the right and wrong ones into my head; pretty simple), I asked him about lunch. Richard-sensei was very busy. No time for leisure.

“You’ll be off again in the evening flight, right? What we gonna do about lunch? If you’re leaving at three o’clock, then you’ll still be in Kandy at noon, right? Can we go to a restaurant I like?”

“What a good thing it is that you found a ‘restaurant you like’ in this country. Allow me to accompany you.”

While smiling, Richard was about to let out a yawn, yet he hastily bit it down. He was like a prideful cat. As I thought, he seemed a little sleepy. When I suggested him to go to bed again, he said that he didn’t mind it, since he was going to sleep in the night flight either way. And yet he was calling me a short sleeper.

I glanced at the dining room and the kitchen. They were neatly organized. From their tidy and orderly state, I could tell with just a look that I obviously hadn’t cleaned them to this point last night. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on the floor. Despite the difference between the inside and outside of the house being so vague. There was no evidence left, but it was clear that something had happened here. Not a murder, but a more peaceful and heartwarming incident. The suspect showed no signs of confessing. So I wouldn’t say anything either. No particular comments on the multiple rags and some food remains at the bottom of the organic waste bag. I only had one thing that I wanted to say no matter what, so I hoped he’d just let me say it.

After finishing the meal, I waited for the beautiful man to stand up, and then I went behind Richard, clutching his shoulders. I was going to say it before he turned around, asking what I was doing. It was best if I didn’t see his face. There was no telling what I could say when I was staring at him in fascination.

“I myself don’t know very well what I’m talking about, so I want you to forget it in two seconds, but I was reeeally happy for this morning. Really happy. To a shocking extent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I said I didn’t know either, right? I don’t get it, but anyway, I was happy. That’s all! Aight, study time.”

Without looking at Richard’s face until the very end, I started knocking a thousand gemstones in my workspace on the first floor. I had to look over them while it was morning. This was my current job. Richard didn’t say anything else, but his back looked calm under his shirt, so I was a bit relieved as well. Thinking back on it now, I had taken the wrong path at that time. I should have told him “not to overdo it” more clearly.

Two weeks later, Richard came back, but this time, I heard a small explosion at 6AM. Three times in a row. What did it take for things to turn out this way? The current time was already 7AM. Between getting up right now or not, which one would be less of a hassle later on? I didn’t even want to think about what had been made of the dining room. There was no one other than the two of us in this house and this wasn’t a matter that I had to go as far as asking the landlord, Saul-san, for advice on, so I knew I was the one who had to deal with it anyway. I wanted someone to decide in my stead. What should I do?

[randombtsprincessa]

Belladonna || 1

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader, Past Lovers! AU

Words: 3k

Genre: Heavy Angst, Smut 

Rating: This chapter is General up to NC-17, rating might go up as story progresses.

Summary: Your life has finally settled into a routine; keeping you far away from your home, friends, family and the man who broke your heart. Coming back home means facing him again and maybe you’re not as over him as you’d like to believe.

Warnings: (in-chap) Heavy Angst, mentions of a toxic relationship.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The idol used as the Muse for the lead is not in anyway affiliated with the work. The characterisation is a work of mine. Any asks or accusations against the work on the grounds of inability to keep fact and fiction seperate on the part of the reader, will not be entertained. 

A/N: Its’s rather sad that the disclaimer has to be added but eh, it’s a bad time for tumblr writing fandom and people are being very mean. Brush past that if you’re sane. Anyway, a very very huge hug to my best friends for screaming at me about this fic. A bunch of thanks to @softyoongiionly​ for hyping up the chapter! And a round of applause for @kithtaehyung​ for beta-ing the chappie!!

Happy Birthday Yoonfie baby!!

It was cold inside the cabin, the air conditioner turned extreme while the outer windows fogged with condensation. Your head leaned against the pane, the thudding and rolling of the train wheels under you jarring your brain in your skull as you watched the world outside flash speedily by.

Trees, small gravelly roads, sign boards, sparse traffic here and there…and then rolling grasslands before the pattern repeated itself…redundant, normal, and soothing.

You sighed, a puff of white exhale clouding around your mouth while your eyes drifted back to the interior of the cabin. This sight was a lot more different, with different people having different lives, problems, worries…

A woman tended to her sniffling child, holding a handkerchief up to the girl’s running nose…a man spoke into his phone; harried and rushed as he more likely than not slurred a few words together…

It was when your eyes caught a girl laying her head on the boy next to hers’ shoulder, smiling serenely when the boy ran a hand through her locks that you turned around again, eyes back to watching the redundant.

There was nothing soothing about people watching.

Or maybe there was and it required some form of inner peace to find the charm in it.

You didn’t have that sort of inner peace; neither did you have the patience for it.

People watching for people like you was anxiety inducing…and you really didn’t want that burden on your shoulders right now. There would be enough anxiety waiting for you when you set your foot home.

“____?”

You turned coffee worn, blue light sunken eyes towards your boss, standing over you with his files clutched to his chest nervously. The sight was enough to make you chuckle. For all his genius, Kim Namjoon was just a giant fumbling through life. It made him a stellar boss and manager, but it also made him a wonderful friend.

“Yes?”

“I just got your email for the leave application.”

You blinked up at your boss expectantly, face calm and relaxed. Of course, your brain had shot straight to overdrive, praying, wishing, and begging for a miracle that would allow your boss to refute the application.

A large red denied would do nothing to hamper your mood; at least it would stamp down the very intrusive tendril of panic that was already gripping around you.

You waited until Namjoon was done rustling inside of the folder in the crook of his arm. The white print out was placed in front of you, green letterings spelling ACCEPTED AND FORWARDED, scrawled on the top screaming obscenities at you.

You looked back at Namjoon.

“We don’t have a lot of work load right now plus you look dead on your feet. Some time away with your folks will be nice, won’t it?”

You very nearly grimaced at his words.

He was sincere, of course he was. Namjoon didn’t have a conniving bone in his body, but right now, you couldn’t help but resent his kindness, his mushy brain that railed against exploiting his workers. You hated the fact that he looked into your eyes and saw past the stubborn energy and caught onto the exhausted person underneath.

So you offered him a tiny smile, just in case the flicker of your crushing despair was made clear onto your traitor face.

“Thank you, Namjoon.”

He placed a heavy, tight hand on your shoulder as he passed by.

“Have a nice vacation, ____.”

Usually, someone who was away from home, working their ass off, making something of themselves away from their family should ideally jump at the chance to take a vacation, to go home and see the family and friends they had.

Ideally…one should be happy at the prospect of going home.

So many times, however, situations were rarely ideal. Sometimes there were complications, convolutions, obstacles…

Sometimes people had no love in their hearts; sometimes there was nothing at all.

Sometimes, there was dread.

Right then, in the rattling carriage that carried you to the small town which had spawned your existence, you could sense the dread carving a pit into your stomach, roiling and curling like a wretched cat kept too long from sunshine.

There was no relief for the upcoming long sleepy times, no joy at the prospect of home food…of warm embraces…

There was just that god awful dread.

You hoped you wouldn’t throw up; though there was nothing in your stomach to hurl but for the coffee you’d pumped in you from the station café. You couldn’t keep anything else down.

You had upped and left your home right after the end of your college life. Many things had come to an end with that particular period in your life. You had scampered and scrapped together enough courage to exit the hole that still robbed you of breath sometimes when you twisted and turned in your bed – sleepless.

You had left shattered pieces of your heart in your whirling escape of the town, the space that you had now the only light that shone at the end of the tunnel back then. Your family and friends, as supportive as they were, had never truly understood why you had nearly clawed away from that world.

To them, it had been the job opportunity.

And it was understandable…

The town, as well-knit and seemingly lovable as it was, was used to being self sufficient. The people there didn’t ever need to leave, they knew everything, helped everyone, and any problem one of them had was a problem for them all.

You couldn’t fit yourself in that mold anymore.

You had left – knowingly cut yourself away from that community.

Your friends had remained; some spreading out of course but they were still as much a part of that bunch as they had been when born.

You didn’t expect anything from them.

Not when he was also still a part of that community.

Your mind jerked away moments before conjuring his likeness behind your eyes, the ticket collector bearing down to save you from the torture of it.

Your fingers fumbled with the pockets of your bag, slipping the stub into his patient hands as he clipped and handed it back to you.

You accepted it meekly, folding into yourself again, eyes drifting back out the window and firmly tugging your thoughts away from your past. You had to prepare for what was going to come now.

Nobody expected you to come, you knew. It was a surprise to you yourself that you had found enough guts in you to pull this off.

Namjoon’s words came back to you.

Some time away with your folks will be nice, won’t it?

You weren’t going to hold out much hope for that.

You found a cab almost immediately out of the station, the many cruisers that stood to one side eager to free you of your luggage and take you off to your destination. You gave your address shakily, hoping this particular driver wasn’t one of the townspeople. Luckily, the man didn’t bat an eye, instead nodding and quietly switching on the radio for the drive over.

You leaned back into the seats, arms grasping the strap of your handbag tight as the moment to face your family and close ones drew closer.

Objectively, your little hometown was very pretty.

Trees lined the major roads, small clusters of buildings interjecting the greenery to spread business to the good people. And as tense as you were, your mind couldn’t help but pick out the differences.

Boutiques were newer and flashier, the diners you remembered now expanded to add cafes or banquets. The town hall was an imposing as ever, only a new marble fountain added to the square in front of it now.

By the time your cab entered the section of the suburbs where you had grown up; your back was straight, neatly aligned with the window. If you had been dreading the homecoming before, it was all gone; replaced with an odd form of resignation.

You lugged your bags out and paid the taxi driver with cold hands, winding bloodless fingers around the handles to pull them up the drive way towards your open door.

The house was full, open and bustling – a normal day for when your mother threw one of her success parties. She was one of the famous people in the town, her career as a landscaper and home decorator for big names making her in turn the man source of revenue and attraction for the town.

It had been both a source of pride and embarrassment to you in your teens. Mainly because your mother insisted on these parties each and every time one of her projects turned out well. But then, as you grew you realized that this is why your mother was important to the town.

She was more than half the money earned and the social events of the calendar.

Inside the house, small clusters of people gathered here and there, in the living room, the kitchen, the dining space. You stood at the door; feeling more exposed than you ever had here but moved in quickly, lest one of them notice you in the doorway and start blabbering about it.

Of course, the three big bags that you carried more than made up for it.

One of the groups of women nearest you turned their heads in synchrony, taking double looks as you passed by before the murmurs began.

How could you tell?

Well because, gossip usually lowers ones’ volume. And each group you passed stopped conversing before muttering arose in its place.

You cut across the living room to your father’s den. Here, there were all men, hands cupping your dad’s cut glasses of scotch but thankfully no one mentioned you dumping your bags right by the door and walking back out.

Your hands fiddled with your scarf, wondering where your family was in their own party but you were loathing asking one of the guests.

Even as you convinced yourself to walk over to one of the ladies by the window sofa, a figure walked past opposite you, a handful of trays of cocktail bites and glasses on them. You jumped, watching as the woman placed the trays on the coffee table, smiling at the people before she turned…and spotted you.

Your sister’s eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering before quick steps led her closer to you.

“____?” She asked, almost checking if it really was you.

You smiled wryly, hand still tangled with your scarf. “Hi Sana, yes it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” She threw herself at you, arms wrapping around your neck to draw you into a warm and nearly forgotten embrace. You stood in her hold for a few seconds, managing to pat her back before she was pulling away, eyes glistening at you.

“Oh god, don’t cry,” you whispered immediately.

“Shut up, these are happy tears; my little sister is home! Hang on; I’ll go get Mom and Dad.” She turned on her heel before you got another word out, mouth parted as she disappeared into the house.

You stood rooted to the spot, hoping against hope she brought your dad first. You just knew your mom would start bawling and then all the neighbors and her social circle would start hovering like the pack of vultures you had the low opinion of them as.

It was unfair and very rude of you, yes, but you couldn’t help but remember half the rumors and gossip that had come from none other than these same people when you had first left. Sympathy or well wishes from them now, would only make you more disgusted.

It had made you keep your own mother at a distance, seeing as she was probably the source of their information.

Thankfully, you knew you could always depend on your dad.

A no-nonsense and rational person, he was only guilty of being extremely in love with your mother. You knew he only bore these parties for her sake and of course your sister, Sana’s.

So when you saw Sana come back, with both your parents you still heaved a relived sigh.

“____, my god, you’re really here.” Your mother was the second to hug you, your father following.

“We didn’t think you would make it this year too.” Your dad said.

“Yeah, it’s been hectic…a lot…for the last couple years.” You repeated the same lies you’d been spouting for two years now. You had spoken the same lines into your phone, in your emails over months and it came much easier while speaking them to their faces.

“Very hectic for a well-established firm, ____, you could’ve asked for a leave, I’m sure office policy allows that.” Your dad said in that logical baritone that rendered most arguments moot.

“That is actually how I got away, Namjoon insisted.” You said; not completely untrue.

“Well, I for one am very happy my little girl is back to me. You’ll stay for a bit, won’t you?” Your mother stroked your hair back from your face.

You smiled tightly at her, thinking of the weeks Namjoon had generously piled on you out of respect for your relentless working for two years under him.

“Yes.”

You caught Sana try and push in, her eyes seeking yours even as your mother squealed in jubilation. “Perfect, we are going to have to throw you a coming home party.”

“Y/M/N,” Your father said lightly. “We are at a party now.”

“Yes, but ____ deserves her own night.” Sana put in before grabbing your hand. “Come on,” she dragged you away from your debating parents.

“Not a lot has changed I guess.” You spoke drily.

“Yeah, maybe, listen I think we need to –”

Sana was cut off by a gasp of your name, your head swiveling to see Park Jimin, one of your old friends gaping at you.

It was a whirlwind of reunions and emotions as people gathered around you, astonished that you’d come back without any mention of it.

“Yeah, I – I guess, it’s a surprise.” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, going over the faces of your childhood to college friends.

Many things had changed while you were gone, true – to the town, to the people and even to your friends but one thing you were glad to see…they hadn’t cut you away completely. Yes, your interaction with them had been reduced to the odd Facebook and Twitter chats and the occasional emails and texts here and there but they still looked…happy to see you.

Park Jimin and his twin, Jihyo had been the first ones to come to you, Jihyo hugging you tightly enough to make you wince. She had been your roommate in college; she probably knew you as well as Sana did – maybe even better. She had introduced you to Jimin and the three of you had been inseparable throughout your college life.

Jimin had apparently been friends with one of your childhood friends, Kim Taehyung.

You were not so shocked to know he was now married, living next door to you with his wife, Nayeon. Sweet and charming, she hugged you like her husband.

“It’s almost like I already know you,” she explained to your unsure smile, “they talk about you so much.”

“Ugh, I’m already worried.” You cringed.

“They were all nice things don’t worry. We had to put down a couple old gossips down here and there, though.” Jimin came to defend his friend.

You glanced at them curiously.

“Oh yeah, it was just old gossipy hags around the town, don’t worry about it. People moved on from you pretty soon to a Miss Mina. She’s a spinster, which apparently is a sin.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “She lives a few houses from us.”

“Also, I think your mom told that friend of hers, Dahyun to stop people gossiping about you. They were task-forcing the town. It was fun to watch.” Jimin added.

A sudden wave of affection for your mother rose up in you, before being quelled by the reminder that she must have done it to protect her own image.

You shrugged then, picking up a glass from one of the trays to take a sip of your mother’s homemade cocktail – fruity and simple on your tongue.

“Enough about me, what about you all?” you pointed at Tae and Nayeon, “Married with a house,” your finger moved to Jimin, “Sports coach,” then Jihyo, “Choreographer,” you stopped.

“What about the others, any news?”

“Not really, we are the ones who still live here you know. Plus, no offense to your mom, but I doubt folks would leave their city jobs to come to her parties.” Jihyo muttered; exchanging a glance of solidarity with you before her eyes widened suddenly.

“What?” you asked.

Her eyes quickly went to her brother, Jimin’s eyes a little more slow on the uptake but they widened too…before repeating the process – albeit comically – with Taehyung.

“What is wrong with you all?” You asked again.

“Um, ____, did Sana tell you -?”

Jimin paused nervously, refusing to look at you as he fiddled with the rim of his glass.

“Tell me what?”

He looked helplessly at his sister. Jihyo hesitated before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Listen, ____, while you were gone” -

She broke off, her eyes darting over your shoulder and stuttering to a stop.

In that moment of her silence, the conversation behind you was clearer.

Or rather, one particular voice was…

Low and deep – soft morning grumbles came back to you – muffled conversations from behind you made you turn around.

It was a voice you would know anywhere. It was one that haunted your dreams, one that crested the ache in your heart on particularly bad days…

It was one you would know beyond a void.

Min Yoongi stood directly across from you, in your home, undoing his coat and removing his scarf, conversing lowly with your sister.

Something she quickly muttered to him had him freezing, long nimble fingers stopping in the unknotting of his scarf.

And then as if he could feel your gaze, could feel your presence, the reason why you left everything behind looked straight up at you, eyes locking across a room…just like the day you had first seen him.

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

Falling Through the Cracks Chapter 1: Secret Door

Prologue (Tumblr) | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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Tucked away in a dark alcove beneath some ragged blankets, Molly Hooper took great care to quiet the sound of her breathing. Her stomach rumbled low, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything proper in hours. Footsteps sounded at the end of the alley, coming in close. She could hear the hushed voices, one with a sinister Irish lilt that chilled her to the bone. Not him, she prayed. Anyone but him.

“Ohh, look what we have here, Seb,” Moriarty’s voice rang out with glee. “Just a pile of old linens you suppose?”

Seb laughed with a low voice, flicking open a switchblade. He reached out slowly, his fingers grazing the tattered material, and snatched it right off her. Molly took him by surprise when she kicked her leg up, knocking the knife from his hand. He bent to retrieve it whilst she ran, but Moriarty had caught up to her, locking his arms around her to keep her in place. Seb approached just as she wriggled her way out, and he reached out with the hand that held the blade, cutting her arm in the process.

Molly gave a shout, running as far as she could until she hit a dead-end, nothing but brick at the other end of the alley. She could hear Moriarty, furious as could be, demanding that Seb take her down. The latter was burly whilst Moriarty was a head and a half shorter and a bit on the thin side, not much muscle mass to him. Her strength was wavering as she turned back to see the pair advance towards her. Turning her head back to the wall, she placed a hand against it, breathing hard. Her stomach ached with hunger and her throat was parched. Her arm throbbed with the sting of the slice made into her fair flesh.

She thought of safety, of warmth, of finding one person with a good heart. If only she could find somewhere or someone to be her safe haven. And as she attempted to speak it into existence, Molly could feel the familiar falling sensation coming over her just as the men reached her. Just in time, she had slipped beyond their reach, everything going black. She would be safe soon, if only for a little while.

.

.

Sherlock happily popped in a warm, fresh chip in his mouth as he walked away from the cart. He weaved his way through the few people on the streets who seemed to be in too much a hurry for such a lovely evening. The crowd of people began to thicken the further he went, and he soon turned sharp into an empty back alley to avoid them, taking a shortcut around. It had only been a couple of weeks since Mrs. Hudson read his tea leaves, and though the entire ordeal was useless drivel, somewhere deep inside, he felt there may have been some truth to it. Perhaps it was only hope. What she ‘predicted’ would be much more exciting than the lackluster cases Lestrade had him working.

He glanced towards the end of the alley straight ahead, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her. Seemingly appearing out of thin air, a petite woman, not much younger than himself, fell to the pavement, blood trickling down her arm. Sherlock dropped what was left of his chips, more out of disbelief than anything, and approached her with caution, kneeling down beside her. “Are you alright? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

The woman shook her head. “No, no, they’ll find me there if they figure out how to follow.”

He furrowed his brows. “They? Who are they?”

She remained silent on the subject. “Is there somewhere I can hide?”

The desperation in her voice tugged at his heart. It was a strange sensation as he didn’t typically get emotional when it came to cases. That’s exactly what this was too: a case. Something about the small woman intrigued him. “Can you walk?”

“I need somewhere I can be safe,” she reminded him urgently, looking up at him for the first time. Her breath, ragged from breathing heavily, caught in her throat. His cerulean eyes pierced her soul, lighting up with curiosity. Reaching inside his coat, he untucked his dress shirt and tore a piece off, tying it around the cut on her arm. His eyes softened considerably from the stoicism she had witnessed a moment ago.

“Not to worry,” he told her, carefully lifting her into his arms. “I have just the place.” Sherlock was thankful that his flat wasn’t too far from where he found her. Once inside the front room, he rushed up the stairs and into 221B, settling her on his bed, figuring he could change out the sheets later. She was thoroughly exhausted and most likely hadn’t eaten in at least twelve hours, possibly longer. Her choice of clothing was peculiar for someone on the run. Draping quite nicely over her small frame was a simple light pink gown of satin, grimy and torn just above the knees. The colour, despite the dirt, contrasted well with her complexion and short, choppy dark hair. Her feet were only covered in black flats, the soles coming apart. Something about her seemed familiar, but he waved the silly thought away.

She watched as he left the room, coming back with first aid supplies in his hands. His long callused fingers untied the scrap of his ruined shirt and he began to clean her cut. Molly bit her lip anxiously. “Thank you for helping me—you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he replied as he began wrapping the bandage around her arm. “Who are you running from?”

The smile on her face was apologetic. “It’s best if I don’t say. You’ve already done so much. I’d hate to drag you further into my mess.” She noted the fiery look in his eyes, the frustration clear by the tight line of his full lips. This time, she bit her lower lip for a much different reason. He was a gorgeous man, a beautiful stranger who saved her from bleeding out on the street in the cold. Yet there was something familiar about him. She had trouble placing it. “Whose dominion is this? Am I in London Above?”

He pulled away as he finished up, a mixed expression of amusement and confusion on his face. “It’s…just London, Miss—?”

“Hooper,” she replied. “Molly Hooper.”

Sherlock repeated her name softly, savoring the way it sounded on his tongue. He decided he liked it, not that it should be of real particular interest to him. “Sherlock Holmes,” he offered. “You may stay as long as you need. I don’t sleep much, so you may have the bed.”

She swallowed hard, his surname sounding vaguely familiar. “Oh,” she shook her head, “I couldn’t possibly—“

“I insist,” he told her. “You can use the shower to get clean. I have a shirt you can wear for after. Then get some rest; you’ll need it.”

She nodded and it appeared to bring him some relief, some peace of mind. Molly had to admit, it felt nice to be clean for once. Her last decent wash was—well, she couldn’t quite remember. When she stepped out from the steaming shower stall, she sighed dejectedly at the barely-there scrap of her gown. There would be no salvaging it. Her eyes glanced to the sink counter where an aubergine button-up dress shirt sat. He was much taller than her, so it would be a decent length. She reached to grab it, noting the expensive material just from the feel of it in her hands, and slipped it on, buttoning it up.

The sweetest music wafted through the air, and she opened the door, peering out down the hall. She stepped out, tugging at the hem of the shirt which only fell just mid-thigh. The smell of fresh food hit her like a train and her eyes found the source. There was food kept in a plastic container on the coffee table. As for the music, she found it was Sherlock, his talented fingers moving along the strings of the violin as he slid the bow across. She stood there mesmerised by the melody. Her eyes, full of admiration, never strayed from him. When he noticed her presence in the room, he brought the song to a close and set the instrument aside.

“That was lovely,” she told him, a soft smile on her face.

Sherlock felt all sense leave him as he took in the sight of her. He could hear his brother’s haughty voice in his head, warning him not to get attached—and for good reason. This woman was on the run from God knows who. She was in danger, and though it was his job to help those in seemingly impossible situations, it would be stupid to think of her as anything other than a client, especially if her death was unstoppable. “Thank you. I took the liberty and picked up some food from the café below. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but—“ He stopped short as she dug right in to the meal, supposing that anyone as hungry as she was would most likely eat anything.

He left her to it, going off to change into more comfortable clothes. When he returned in his pajamas, a blue dressing gown thrown on top, he found she had finished most of the food. She yawned, her deep brown eyes so sleepy. “I suppose I should get some rest now,” she needlessly pointed out. “I can leave as soon as dawn breaks in the morning.”

With a tilt of his head, he assured her, “That’s not necessary. You may stay until you’re safe. I’m a consulting detective; I can help you.”

Her sad eyes bore into his determined ones. “You’ve no idea what you’re saying. If you help me, you won’t be able to turn back from it. You’ll be lost like so many others.” Molly wanted to say more, but she didn’t want to feed his curiosity any further. It killed the cat, after all, she mused to herself. “Goodnight, Mister Holmes.”

[jaskierswolf]

I love your writing, maybe you could write jaskier/dandelion semi-public sex/handjob? thanks

This definitely almost took me two months... sorry! I hope you see this nonny!

This is a modern au, in my head in takes place in the same AU as this fic, but both can be read separately, honestly both are just smut, there’s very little plot.

Jaskilion - 1k - featuring aro Dandelion and a poly relationship (mentioned geraskier and Yenralt.)

CW: public handjob, exhibition kink, alcohol... I think that’s it? 18+ Only pls

_______

Jaskier giggled as he slumped into the booth in the corner of the club, holding two Long Island Iced Teas, the brown liquid spilling over the edge of the glass. He pouted at the mess on the table, sighing as he leant on Dandelion’s shoulder. They were celebrating. Their band had finally signed a record deal and things were finally looking up. Dandelion’s long fingers threaded into his hair, scraping so wonderfully against his scalp, sending a warm tingle down his spine.

“Oh that feels wonderful,” Jaskier sighed happily.

They were two drinks down and happily buzzed. The wonders of being a light weight meant a night out was much cheaper. Their friend, Jaskier’s boyfriend, Geralt could spend twice as much and barely be tipsy.

“Do you have any idea how sinful you look in those jeans, darling?” Dandelion asked, his fingers pulling in Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier smirked and turned so he could look up at Dandelion with wide eyes, biting his lip seductively. He knew. Of course he knew. Every part of his outfit had been chosen very carefully. Tight black jeans that clung to his thighs, calves and arse like they were painted on, perfectly tousled hair that looked like he’d rolled out of bed, and thick black eyeliner around his blue eyes that would make them pop just right. His patterned white shirt was barely buttoned above his pecs, revealing large amounts of chest hair that he knew his friend adored. He’d also dusted a sparkling red blush to his cheeks. He’d had one particular goal tonight and that was to drive Dandelion crazy.

His roommate, fellow musician, and sometimes barista, looked equally divine. His long blond hair flowed in gentle curls down his back, a cute little beanie on his head and thick rimmed glasses balanced on his nose. He wore dark blue skinny jeans and a blue jumper over his shirt. If it wasn’t so hot inside the club then Jaskier had no doubt that his roommate would also be wearing his tweed jacket but that particular delight had been left at home.

He was a total dork and Jaskier loved him.

Jaskier fell in love easily and without restraint. He was lucky to have Geralt. The stoic mechanic gave Jaskier the love and attention he craved, but didn’t care when Jaskier wanted to fuck around. Geralt had Yennefer after all. It was a complex relationship to anyone on the outside but it suited them perfectly.

And it suited Dandelion too, he wasn’t one to fall in love and settle down.

Dandelion pressed a kiss under Jaskier’s ear, his hand leaving Jaskier’s hair to trail patterns up along his thigh. Jaskier swallowed, feeling the familiar headiness of arousal as he tilted his head to allow Dandelion’s talented lips better access to his neck. God he was weak for neck kisses and the blond knew it.

“Don’t think I didn’t realise,” Dandelion’s breath tickled his ear and he nipped at the lobe.

Jaskier hummed in response.

“You always wear those jeans when you’re looking for a fuck,” Dandelion continued in a low voice, barely audible over the pounding music of the club. The pulse of the bass thrummed through Jaskier’s body only serving to heighten his arousal.

He had been hoping Dandelion would join him in his room later that evening but he wasn’t opposed to getting a head start. He let out a shaking breath as Dandelion palmed his half hard cock through his jeans.

“Fuck…”

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” Dandelion chuckled. “Can you keep quiet?”

Jaskier bit his lip, not really sure of his answer. He was famously quite loud in bed, he had never been able to help it but if Dandelion didn’t touch him soon then he might actually die. He shivered and nodded, suddenly feeling far too hot in the stifling dark room.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Stop being a tease.”

Dandelion let out a peal of laughter, and pulled off his glasses as his lips brushed along Jaskier’s cheek, never quite touching his lips. Jaskier pouted and chased Dandelion’s lips until the blond finally relented. The kiss was messy, sloppy even, a side effect of the cocktails perhaps or just driven by mindless lust. Jaskier’s hands pulled at Dandelion’s hair, making the blond moan into the kiss, his fingers fussing with the zip of Jaskier’s jeans.

“Dand…”

“Shhh,” Dandelion giggled against his lips.

Jaskier’s heart was racing, his head spinning as Dandelion’s hand wrapped around his cock under the table. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip to stop himself from moaning too loudly. He panted into Dandelion’s mouth as long fingers dragged along his length.

“Fuck,” he whined.

“Be quiet,” Dandelion chided with a click of his tongue, running his nose under Jaskier’s jaw, licking at his neck.

“Hmm… trying…”

And he was but the alcohol running through his blood loosened his tongue, and he couldn’t help but feel a thrill when he looked out onto the dance floor. None of those people knew what they were doing, but every time he caught someone’s eyes he felt like he was on fire. The burning heat of the forbidden act, Dandelion skilled hands stroking his cock relentlessly as he bit and sucked marks into Jaskier’s neck. God, it was too much. He gasped, trying to stay silent, as he neared his orgasm.

“Dandelion, I. I can’t,” He spluttered, hands gripping desperately in his friend’s hair.

Dandelion hummed like a contented cat, capturing Jaskier’s lips once more, biting his bottom lip between his teeth.

Jaskier whined helplessly. “I need… I…”

Dandelion smirked, looking far too smug as Jaskier was falling apart. “Come for me, sweetheart, don’t let them know.”

Jaskier cried out, the sound muffled by Dandelion’s lips, as he spilled into the blond’s hand. The room faded out of existence for a few seconds and he struggled to catch his breath. He buried his face in Dandelion’s neck whilst he recovered, blinking as he returned to the dingy booth in the darkness of the club.

“Fuck,” he mumbled.

“Let’s save that for when we get home, darling.”

Jaskier glared up at his roommate. Dandelion looked far too proud of himself. Jaskier was going to have fun wiping that smug haughty grin off his face when they got back. He just… He needed a moment first.

_______

Tag list (18+ - Let me know if you want to be added/removed): @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos  @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral  @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare

[cordytriestowrite]

Excuses and Uses

Bucky Barnes x Reader

One Shot

Summary: Excuses were all you got from Bucky. Uses were all he wanted from you. (Aka I need a world where F&WS exists and until then I make up my own plots thanks)

"Bucky, what a surprise."

Your greeting was laced heavily with sarcasm. It was in fact not a surprise to have Bucky Barnes knocking on your door long after it was appropriate to receive visitors. You were in your sushi pajamas for Pete's sake! Despite those comically cute pieces of sashimi littering your clothing Bucky looked at least a little guilty to be standing in front if you, even if he had a not so cute arsenal of guns and knives littering his body you weren't intimidated. 

"I need your help."

Rolling your eyes you turned around and left Bucky in the doorway of your studio apartment. You picked up a few pieces of scattered clothing so you wouldn't attempt to wrap your hands around his thick neck and squeeze the annoying life right out of him. 

"You never come over to hang out you know. Not even to see your son!"

Bucky closed the door behind him and almost immediately Alpine was winding between his legs, rubbing and purring, happy to see his true owner. Alpine, in his snooty cat way, made sure you knew where you ranked on the totem pole despite filling his food bowl every day. 

Bucky picked up the feline and buried his face into his fluffy white fur. When he spoke again his words were muffled.

"He knows I still love him. Even if I can't see him all the time."

You honestly weren't sure if he was telling you or the cat but you felt like arguing anyway.

"I have Mario Kart. It's like, your favorite game and you don't ever come over to play."

Alpine jumped from Bucky's arms as he moved further into what was designated as the living room, even if there were no walls separating the couch from your bed, refrigerator, or washing machine. 

"I don't have time to play." 

"Bullshit." You muttered under your breath, tossing a misplaced fork into the sink, letting the loud clang of metal on metal hide the curse. Excuses and uses were all you got from Bucky and all he wanted from you. You took a few seconds to settle down before turning to face him.

"What can I do for you Bucky?"

He was in his usual spot. Not quite in the living space, not close enough to the door to be heard by a nosey neighbor, not quite close enough to you. 

"I have a lead I need you to look into."

You just didn't have the strength to keep doing this. It was late, you were tired, and honestly if Bucky wasn't going to treat you like anything more than a human search engine then you weren't interested in moving forward with this conversation.

"Go ask Sharon." You said dismissively, walking around the couch and putting more distance between you and Bucky.

"Sharon can't know about this. Sam either. You're the only one. I need you."

You ignored him. At first you there was a thrill in being Bucky's confidant, in having a secret mission just you and him, but all you ended up feeling now was lonely and more than a bit bitter. You pulled back your blankets, slid out of your slippers, and crawled into bed. 

"Agent-"

Your back was turned to Bucky. You spoke loud and clear so it would get through his thick skull, because obviously your physical dismissal of him was a bit too subtle. 

"I'm no longer an agent, Soldier. I quit remember? For you."

You turned over, the comforter pulled up to your chin so the parts of you that were exposed were cold and hard; your eyes and mouth set with stubborn lines of tension. 

"And I have a name. Do I need to remind you of it? Goodnight."

You turned your back to him again, hitting the light switch near your head and plunging the studio into darkness. You could feel Alpine's paws gently press against your toes as he joined you.

What should have come next was a few footsteps leading away from you then the opening and closing of your front door, but instead you felt the mattress dip near your hip, then a matching weight on the other side as Bucky briefly straddled you before wedging his large, fully armed and armored body between you and the wall. You could barely see him in the dark, but you could hear him clearly utter your name. You let out a hollow laugh and hoped it hid how nervous Bucky's proximity was making you.

"So you do know it. Could've fooled me."

Bucky was quiet for a long time. That combined with his uncanny ability to keep entirely still meant you drifted off and only realized it when he spoke.

"I'm sorry. I'd love to play Mario Kart."

You smiled, blinking slow as sleep made your eyelids heavy. 

"Too sleepy. In the morning." You muttered, lips barely moving to form the words. 

Gentle fingers brushed through the hair at your temple, lulling you further into an unconscious state. You resurfaced at the feeling of Bucky moving over you. Your body followed him as he made his exit

"Buck, the lead."

If the cold metal palm against your cheek wasn't enough to wake you up the press of lips to your forehead would have raised you from the dead.

"It can wait."

A few footsteps, then the opening and closing of your front door and he was gone. Your thoughts stayed on him long after he left and until the thinnest strip of sunlight colored the dark sky a dusky blue-grey. 

You woke up late the next day, much to Alpine's displeasure. He made sure to dig his claws deep enough to scratch your feet as he stretched and sauntered toward the corner kitchen. 

"Not even my cat." You grumbled, pulling back the covers and following the small white ball of attitude. He waited impatiently for his breakfast, meowing and batting at your hand when he deemed the task was taking too long by his standards. He didn't even wait for his bowl to be moved to the floor, digging in the second you finished scraping the lumpy, wet chunks of fish and carrot out of the can. 

You watched Alpine chow down without really seeing him. Your mind was back to last night and the way Bucky said your name, the way his fingers carded through your hair, the way he pressed his lips to your forehead. It all seemed so unreal, unlikely to be something that could ever happen, so you assumed your mind had made it all up. It was the only way it made sense to you.

Bucky wasn't the guy from last night, he was a super soldier with a super chip on his shoulder who happened to like Mario Kart but refused to play because God forbid he experience any joy in life. You were his pet sitter, his informant, the woman who went rogue from the new and improved S.H.I.E.L.D. the moment those big blue eyes sparkled in your general direction and just happened to steal a high tech laptop on her way out. You and Bucky Barnes weren't friends. You were just the idiot who allowed yourself to be used. You understood that now.

A knock on your door pulled you out of that head space. You shook your head and rubbed the sleep and bit of teariness from your eye before you opened the door.

It was Bucky, no longer decked out in leather and weaponry. His hair fluffy and productless, and his black and gold arm covered by a slightly baggy navy hoodie. He looked normal and that made it so odd.

"Didn't know you took days off Barnes." You greeted sarcastically, arms crossing over your sleep wrinkled sushi pajama top. 

Bucky started to smile, bit his lip to hide it, then relented to a playful smirk.

"I didn't either."

You eye him skeptically before turning around and walking into your living room, bending over to pull your stolen S.H.I.E.L.D. laptop out of its hiding place between the couch and the wall. You sat down and powered it on.

"What's the name?" You asked plainly, knowing your tone was clipped with anger despite your best efforts toseem unaffected.

Bucky closed the front door behind him before bypassing his usual spot just beyond reach to sit next to you on the couch. He was close, granted it was a loveseat and the man was thick in all the best ways, but he was closer than necessary. Knee to shoulder you were connected and in the light of day at this proximity you could see flecks of grey growing at his temple. Of course he would be a silver fox, you thought.

"Mario."

You accessed the database and typed in the name.

"Got a last name?" You asked, desperately glaring at the screen as to not give in to the desire to keep looking at Bucky up close.

"Kart."

You typed in the word and hit search and Bucky was already deep in laughter before it hit you. Slamming your laptop closed you leapt up from the couch and pulled the joycons off the dock.

Alpine, finished licking his bowl clean, finally noticed Bucky and had bounded over to claim his attention. You passed Bucky a controller and plopped back down next to him, purposely tucking yourself surely into his side. You looked at him excitedly, no longer attempting to hide behind a mask of cool indifference. He was looking back with something in his eyes that made your whole body flush with a sudden warmth. 

"So the lead can wait then?"

He nodded, happy expression turning a tad too serious as he searched your face.

"Thank you for always taking care of Alpine. And helping me with missions even though its dangerous. And introducing me to Mario Kart. And-"

You would have let him continue if your heart could handle it. It was pounding so hard against your sternum. And your mouth, it hurt with the intensity of your smile. Your eyes were misty again and before could think it through you planted a solid kiss to Bucky's stubbled cheek, silencing him instantly. It was as you pulled away, an apology already waiting on your tongue, that Bucky turned his head so his lips met yours.

Your lips tingled, numb from elation and nerves. It was a firm and warm and chaste and, while totally unexpected, perfect kiss. So maybe Bucky was the guy laying in your bed last night, maybe he was also kind of an ass who forgot that life wasn't always about the mission. People can be multidimensional!

Alpine, realizing he wasn't the center of Bucky's world at the moment, stretched up on his hind legs to swat a tiny paw against your joined lips. You separated with laughter, giving Alpine scratches behind the ears while he purred in contentment. You couldn't be upset when Bucky picked up his controller instead of kissing you again, seeing his easy smile and bright eyes was enough.

"So, Rainbow Road?"

"Oh, I'll kick your ass Barnes!"

Alpine was a great ally in distracting Bucky from beating you to the finish line and kissing was a great weapon both of you wielded excessively to the point the game was long forgotten in favor of making out on the couch. 

Before Bucky departed later that evening, after an entire afternoon with no talk about a mission or a lead and without any brooding or far away gazes, you wondered if it was too good to be true. He had to feel the change in your posture when he asked between open mouth kisses against your neck.

"Take a look into that lead for me?"

You pulled away, your glare intense.

"Just tell me if you're just using me. With Alpine, intel, or now being your fuck buddy, whatever. I don't want excuses, Bucky. I don't want to be lied to."

Bucky didn't have to have to open his mouth to say anything, his eyes so expressive in initial surprise, then anger so great it tightened the muscle in his jaw, his expression settled into a somber determination and when he opened his mouth you wished you had never said anything and just enjoyed the attention.

"No excuses. I'm not good at...I spent so long being used I don't think I know…"

You wrapped your arms around Bucky. It was awkward with your position on the couch and how broad his shoulders were but it seemed important to just hold him. He held you back in strong and solid arms  you weren't sure you would ever be held by again. You had your cheek pressed against his shoulder and eyes steadfast on the coffee table as you took a deep breath and tried not to cry. If this was a hug of comfort you weren't sure who was supposed to be feeling comforted. To you it felt like a hug goodbye, because no way could you keep doing this. 

"Figure it out, okay."

Bucky left not long after, untangling from you while keeping his head down, scooping up Alpine on his way out. 

You thought that was going to be it from him. You didn't expect Bucky to recover from decades of abuse anytime soon so you went on with your life. Sharon stopped by to collect the stolen laptop, promising no one would know where it snuck off to in the last few months. You stayed home a lot, willfully ignoring the reason you stayed home every night was in case Bucky stopped by. You bought new pajamas with little white kittens on them, then promptly shipped them back after opening the box.

You finally got off your ass and got a new job. Private and slightly sketchy, but confirmed by Sharon it wasn't the world dominating kind of sketchy, the job was right in your comfort zone. Bright and early you were dressed and ready to head out for your first day of work and when you opened the door you almost ran into the wall of metal and muscle that is Bucky Barnes. 

"Bucky? And Alpine!"

A small white head poked sleepily out of Bucky's worn leather jacket. Alpine yawned before meowing up at Bucky who instinctively stroked a few fingers between his ears.

"Sharon said you were starting your new job today and I-we, me and Alpine, wanted to come wish you luck."

You tried not to frown, not wanting to give the wrong impression, so you turned around and locked your door at a deliberately slow pace. Had he been keeping tabs on you or was it just some small talk with Sharon? By the time you turned back around you couldn't help but smile at the sight before you.

Bucky, short hair combed neatly, leather riding jacket zipped up to hold his kitten securely to his chest, hands gloved, jeans dark. He looked cool and confident until you looked into his eyes and saw how out of his depth he really was. 

"Walk me to work?"

Bucky nodded, shoulders sagging in what seemed to be relief. You spent the walk catching up and laughing. It felt like Bucky and you had finally reached a friendship that wasn't based on how you could be benefit to him. 

Until Bucky moved in for a goodbye hug while you leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then it was more like a two idiots fiercely making out in front of one of those idiots new place of employment until the receptionist asked you to move the show somewhere else. But the two idiots agreed to talk later over a game of Mario Kart.

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[dex-xe]

Regarding the ficlet ideas :)

You don't have to do all or even any of these, these are just the things that popped into my head when I was scrolling through! Also if you want to write them romantically you do it, we love and support youuu!!!

Fluff: 7 (Mary and Robin, probably platonic) & 10 (Mary and Kitty, also probably platonic)

General: 18 (Julian and literally anyone, it'll be hilarious)

And General 45. With Alison and Cap (and maybe all the other ghosts) becuase I feel you'd write it really sweetly and honestly it's a scene I'd really like to see

Alison & Captain General #45: “Are you afraid to die?”

So there’s still one more prompt from this person (the Julian one) but I’m combining it with other ideas so expect that soon!! The others have also been done here:

Fluff #7

Fluff #10

But yeah,, this got no interaction at all on AO3 but that’s okay cause I actually really enjoyed writing this one there are some good lines I think. Let me know what you think either here on on AO3 I don’t mind. (Also there is a Doctor Who reference in here but I can’t remember which episode it’s from so if yall find it let me know XD)

TW:// in depth discussions of death.

The dark ceiling of Alison’s bedroom swirled in front of her as she listened to the soft rumbling of her husband’s snores beside her. The glowing red lights of her alarm clock served as a warning to her impending sleepless night: 2:15am.

Worries of life and family and the hotel and the unusual presence of 20 odd dead people inhabiting her home raced through her head as she begged for some kind of distraction from her thoughts. She tried not to set too many rules for the ghosts: whenever she did, they would work even harder to break every written order she laid down - and also every unwritten rule that common sense laid down. But one rule Alison was strict on was their nighttime curfew: do what you want around the house (as long as it doesn’t make too much noise, mess or irritance) but do not, under any circumstance, enter the master bedroom.

She’d originally given them the usual “only in emergencies” protocol but, after Robin had scared Alison out of bed at 4am having deemed a fat ginger cat on the front lawn an emergency, this had quickly been scrapped. But watching the dust flow through beams of moonlight while contemplating every life decision she’d ever made, the prospect of some inconceivable disaster interrupting the ghosts’ eternal deaths was seeming ever more pleasurable.

Alison sighed and sat up to look over Mike deep in sleep, jealous of his peaceful snoring. She swung off the bed being careful not to jostle the sheets but flinched at the freezing floorboards touching her bare feet. She tiptoed slowly through the empty corridors occasionally stopping to listen at the doors of the ghosts’ bedrooms: quiet snoring from Pat’s, mumbled sleep talking from Kitty’s, total silence on behalf of the others.

Every common room lay vacant, excluding Robin curled up in front of the dying fire, so Alison continued on to the kitchen - taking Nigel’s advice to fetch some milk when she’s stressed.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was taken aback to find it was not as empty as the rest of the house would suggest. Leaning back against the far tiled wall with his eyes shut and head resting back on the cold surface, the Captain looked as if he could be asleep standing upright. His eyes snapped open and settled straight on Alison frozen in the doorway. He blinked slowly before darting towards the corner of the room in his usual long-legged, gangly run.

“Captain?” Alison called as he turned away from her. “No, no! It’s alright!”

The Captain stopped. Still. Silent. In a moment of alarming quietness.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Captain. I’ll only be a moment!” Alison said quietly, making her way over to the fridge. “God, I hope Robin isn’t in here.” She pulled open the door with great gusto, fleetingly thrilled by the presence of broccoli, strawberry yoghurt, and half a pasta bake rather than the shouting menace of a caveman.

She shut the door with the milk carton in hand and turned to find the Captain still facing the wall, breathing heavily in what appeared to be a WW2 remake of the Blair Witch Project.

“You can just go back to… whatever you were doing, now,” Alison took a swig from the carton. “Plotting your latest hair-brained scheme to get rid of me?”

“Now, now, Alison,” the Captain said, turning back around to face her and swaying ever so slightly on his heels, stick gripped tight behind him. “I’m less inclined to dispose of you nowadays.”

“Yeah?” Alison raised her eyebrows with a knowing glance and took another sip. “Well, I appreciate that, Cap.”

“Hmm,” the Captain agreed.

“Why are you awake then? Are you awake or do ghosts sleep upright against a wall? Is this some mechanic I don’t know about? Do ghosts have to sleep?” Alison asked rapid fire.

“Of course we sleep! What did you think we do during the night?” The Captain pointed to Alison’s milk and frowned. “You shouldn’t drink it like that. That’s how disease spreads.

“It’s only me that uses it, just don’t tell Fanny, yeah?”

“Mum’s the word,” he murmured.

Alison smiled. “So why are you up, then? Shouldn’t you be getting that beauty sleep?”

“Sometimes it’s a little difficult to drift off, I’m sure you understand that being awake at this hour too.”

“Oh yeah,” Alison said quietly. She lifted her carton up in a small gesture of cheers and made a move to leave. “Well, got my milk. I guess… I’ll just head back to bed then. Good night, Captain.” She had barely made it out of the door before the Captain spoke up once more.

“You could stay for a while,” the Captain said. “If you wanted to. I mean, if you didn’t want to just lay in bed gazing at the ceiling.”

“I’d like that,” Alison pulled out the chair closest, scraping the legs across the tiled floor and interrupting the silence of the house. She left the chair open for the Captain and moved to sit opposite him, settling into the quiet comfort.

“Isn’t it weird to think the dead sleep?” Alison commented. “Doesn’t seem right, does it? Cause sleeping is a bit like being dead only without the commitment so it’s like you’re kind of double dead.”

“Death is nothing like sleeping, Alison. Don’t talk to me about death if you don’t understand it.” The Captain sniffed at her and leant back in his chair maintaining his usual stoic exterior.

“Sorry,” Alison said. “I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said quickly. The pair fell back into silence, they had never exactly been the closest of friends and Alison certainly wouldn’t describe him as her best (undead) friend but they were friend-ly, for sure. Certainly more now that he’d ceased trying to drive her from the house at every opportunity that presented itself. Then again, death does strange things to people, Alison thought, her friends had proved that much. They showed little regard for the lives of the living, thinking very much of themselves and the Captain was surely the embodiment of that.

“It’s not awful, as such,” the Captain interrupted the quiet. Alison looked up from the table to find him watching her intently. “Death. It’s not as terrible as you might think. I know that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Oh,” Alison said. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” The Captain said. “You’re in a rather unique position, Alison, I must say. Not many people can say they have a good understanding of death before it happens, but you know more than most.”

“I still don’t really get it, though,” Alison admitted drawing lines across the table with her fingers.

“If I’m telling the truth, neither do I,” the Captain confessed. “I don’t remember it too well. It was like- like falling asleep and then immediately waking up again. You know that plummeting feeling  that happens right as you’re about to drop into sleep, like everything is calm and then suddenly you’re losing grip of reality, and then you’re wide awake again.”

“A hypnic jerk,” Alison quipped.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“That’s what it’s called, that falling thing. A hypnic jerk.” Alison said. “We did it in science class, I think. Your body thinks it’s dying so it does the jerk to make sure that you’re still alive. Makes sense that’s what dying feels like, I guess.”

“Are you afraid to die, Alison?” The question took Alison by surprise, it was unlike the Captain to be open about his emotions and even more unlikely for him to ask about others’ feelings.

“If I have to stay with this rowdy lot for eternity, then yes definitely,” Alison joked with a small laugh.

The Captain smiled and hummed in agreement: “Oh I’m sure I’d have agreed if given the choice before death. Not exactly the most peaceful post-death existence.”

“I’m a little bit scared,” Alison admitted.

“You shouldn’t be too worried, it’s not all that bad,” the Captain said with a shrug.

“Yeah, because you seem to be having a blast with your afterlife, Cap. Happy as Larry,” Alison said sarcastically, she threw the now-empty carton into the bin beside her and settled back towards the table, leaning forward closer to the Captain - their faces barely inches apart.

The Captain paused, his eyes boring into Alison’s sleepy face before he leant forward to match her and whisper in secret confidence.

“It is rather bad,” he reneged. “You should fear it, well done for being scared.” Alison chuckled. “Well thanks, Cap! I feel so much better now!”

“Now, you know that’s not what I mean,” the Captain said slowly, unsure of where he was going next. “As long as you die here, you have no reason to be afraid. We’ll care for you in death as you have for us in life. Be sure, Alison, we’ll teach you all we know.”

“You know, Julian has told me the ‘teachings’ you gave him when he died,” Alison chuckled.

“Somebody needed to give that scoundrel a good telling off; heaven knows no one in life ever did. Julian died much as he lived: with an air of superiority.” The Captain coughed and smirked across at Alison. “He waltzed in here as if he owned the place, demanding authority and respect and, as far as I’m concerned, those are qualities that are earned.”

“Like you?” Alison said pointedly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you earn the authority you have over the others?”

“That is beyond the point.” The Captain stated. “You’re rather lucky, Alison! You’ve met a somewhat tempered version of Julian, he’s actually rather bearable these days, likeable sometimes, you wouldn’t believe him in the early days.”

“Oh I can only imagine! And I’m better then, I assume? Seeing as I’m deemed worthy of your afterlife teachings?” Alison laughed.

“Indeed,” the Captain said.

“Were you afraid?” Alison asked. “Of death, I mean? Obviously like, before it happened.”

“No,” the Captain shrugged, finally heeling away from Alison and breaking their close eye contact. “A soldier is never afraid. When you enlist to serve for your country, you relinquish any right to fear your death. Service kills many who enter, you cannot fear the inevitable.”

“But you didn’t die in service?”

“I was a soldier. No matter if my demise happened during the war or 60 years later, I lived a soldier and I died a soldier.” The Captain said certainly. Whenever he spoke of his time in the military he straightened right up and masked any kind of emotion he had allowed to trickle through.

“Now that you’re not a soldier then, are you afraid of… you know, moving on?”

“Of being sucked off?” The Captain clarified.

“I refuse to say that,” Alison shook her head. “And frankly it’s cruel that Julian has kept this joke up. But are you scared?”

“I am still a soldier, Alison. I’ll always be a soldier.”

“Time has moved on, no more fighting and no more soldiers but you know that, Captain.”

“Doesn’t change anything. Time.” The Captain said, matter of fact. The darkness of the kitchen mostly shrouded his face but Alison could easily make out the outline of his sharp features and piercing eyes.

“Time changes everything.” She stated. “You should know that better than most.”

“I’m a soldier.” He repeated, mumbling it under his breath like a reassuring mantra. “For King and country.”

“Queen.” Alison corrected.

Allowing himself, for just a moment, to relinquish his solid, iron-clad grip on the past, the Captain softly whispered: “For Queen and country.”

[we-always-hit-our-ass]

I just read your fluffy headcannons with Toye and they are p e r f e c t. Made me realise how much I needed this and I was hoping if you could do one with Ron Speirs. 😔✊

anon, im incredibly happy that you think my Toye hcs were perfect- i also totally get you, anon. we all need some soft speirs hcs in our lives and i will do exactly that! 😩👌💞💕

btw im incredibly sorry that i took so long to write these hcs but hopefully you enjoy them!

Taglist: @floydtab, @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi, @noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @hufflepuffpancakes​, @hihosilvers​, @rayleighshughes

shoutout to my wifey @floydtab for helping me on these hcs, this probably wouldn’t have existed without you- you gave me so much inspo i love you ma’am 💞💕

Fluffy/General Ronald Speirs HCs

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Let’s get one thing clear here- Ron is a cold bitch but is ACTUALLY a big softie.

Only for you anyway, but no one else except you two need to know that-

Like Ron will subtly do things to impress you, and you’re just like, 'You dont have to do that I love you too fucking much already, stop tryna make me fall for you again-'

But you always appreciate it anyways because you know that this boy just wants the best for you-

Ron is straightforward and makes it his daily goal to make you happy-

If you’ve had a bad day, Ron will literally go and get your favorite food/drink/thing to immediately make you feel better, and it works 100% of the time.

Aaah- This man lowkey cares a lot in the relationship and he’s just but a bit worried and is self conscious.

But you just tell him that he's enough and that you'll love him no matter what.

After that he'll just immediately hug you and you would press kisses on his jawline while softly rubbing his back to reassure him that you’re there.

Soft declarations of love are always said and done between the two of you and you knew that you couldn’t live without it.

It was practically essential at this point and you’d never ever get tired of Ron saying ‘I love you’.

Ron is also very protective of you but he’s embarrassed to admit it.

The amount of times he almost yeeted someone because they either made you mad/uncomfortable have been endless.

Like they better HOPE that Speirs doesn’t find their address-

Ron isn’t really big on PDA but he will not hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist, and even sometimes he’ll sit you on his lap while he nuzzles his face on the side of your neck.

It’s just a personal preference of Ron’s and he just doesn’t want people to exactly see something that is intimate, you feel?

Even though he prefers to keep your relationship private, he would always softly call you endearing terms in your ear in public.

He prefers to love you in private, and he thinks that it feels more special that way.

Ron acts the complete opposite when you two are alone or behind closed doors. He’s extremely passionate and every single touch light yet intense.

Ron cannot keep his hands off you and he cherishes every moment he shares with you. 

He just loves the fact that you feel so right in his hold, like you two were always meant to be.

He loves everything about you and wouldn’t change a single thing about yourself, I promise you that.

Ron is also a MAJOR worrywart, like if he even heard you whisper ‘ow’, you better bet that he’s going to ZOOM his ass to you.

He also doesn’t express his worries verbally- oh no- his actions speak for him. He’ll hold you in his arms and will ACTUALLY kiss the area where you hurt yourself.

Ron just wants you to be alright and will fret over you even if it’s just a papercut.

Ron is also very discreet about your relationship and God forbid anyone from seeing him being soft towards you. (And God help them even more if they decide to bring it up.)

Ron constantly thinks how amazing you are while you’re right next to him with your hands in his.

He’s always extremely happy around you and he absolutely loves playing with your hair and it’s so cute.

Soft forehead kisses for this man are a must and he can’t help but smile when you press your lips softly against his skin.

Ron is definitely an athletic man and he adores swimming.

There have been countless times where Ron would take you to a lake just so he can swim with you.

When you’re done changing Ron will scoop you up and just straight up jump into the water.

Cue the WHOLESOME AS FUCK experience, thank you very much.

It’s always serene and the air is always filled with laughs as you and Ron splash each other endlessly.

Kisses are always pressed against your wet cheek whenever you two go swimming 

You’d also cradle his face in your hands as you’d stare lovingly into his eyes.

But you’d always finish swimming before him though and you’d admire him as he’d do laps.

Like Ron’s so beautiful, look at that man, he’s so fucking out of this world- 

He might or might not have been trying to impress you by doing laps, but that's a secret we'll never know-

When you’re finally dry, Ron comes up behind you as he just got out of the water and hugs you, causing you to be wet all over again.

Ron also has a special spot in his heart that is reserved for playgrounds. Like when he’s walking with you and he spots one his eyes LIGHT up and you don’t need words to tell what he was thinking.

Ron loves pushing you on the swings and your laugh and smile just keep him GOIN-

He’ll also wrap his arms around your waist as he’s behind you when you’re sliding on the slides-

The childlike wonder in Ron comes out whenever he sees a playground and that’s one of Ron’s many quirks that you loved-

Like literally the main reason he likes going to playgrounds more now is so he can just see your joyful expressions and sweet laugh-

Okokok, Ron Speirs might seem like a cat, but please believe me when I say that he adores dogs!

You could see the absolute love in his eyes when he sees Trigger and you just had the most perfect idea on what to get him for Christmas.

You fell in love with a little Bernese Mountain Dog puppy (please, please, please search them up- they’re adorable) and your plan was set in motion.

You immediately knew that Ron would love him too.

The lil pup was a pure fluffball of sunshine and this boy was bound to bring lots of joy during the holidays-

BUT HOLY SHIT YOU DID NOT EXPECT YOUR BOYFRIEND’S REACTION TO BE SO CUTE WTF-

When you presented the tiny bundle of fluff to Ron, you could see waves of euphoria emitting off of him-

You knew that Ron was already a man of a few words but he was just rendered speechless (in a good way, of course) when his eyes laid upon the Bernese puppy.

“Milo.”

“Ron- What?”

“His name is going to be Milo.”

You have caught Ron multiple times with Milo on his lap and it’s fucking adorable.

Ron would also fall asleep with Milo in his arms and you swore you were going to take a picture of that and frame it-

Milo’s energetic and bouncy personality somehow complimented Ron’s steady and calm one.

 It’s a beautiful dynamic and it just works in the best way possible.

Okokok I’ve rambled enough, but have I mentioned how caring and amazing Ron is? Yeah? Well screw it, here’s more-

Ron is a little spoon half of the time but he’ll never admit it like the stubborn cutie that he is-

You love holding him in your arms and he loves it all the same too!

But Ron is such a good fucking boyfriend, it’s making me ascend-

When you’d fall asleep in your desk while doing work, Ron would ALWAYS carry you back to your shared bedroom and lay you down gently on the bed.

Ron will get on the bed and he’d be the big spoon as he’d crawl into bed with you. 

But then you’d turn to face him in your sleep and you’d instinctively pull him closer and your cheek would be resting on chest 

Oml- I can’t the scene is too goddamn wholesome-

Buuuut if you fall asleep on the couch, Ron would bring a nice fluffy blanket to cover you and he’d sit next to you and he’d fall asleep while making sure you were ok-

You never liked waking up or mornings before, but mornings with Ron? Oh yeah, you were DOWN for that-

Ron’s fluffy tousled hair in the morning is GOLDEN and when you’d push it back to reveal his sleepy but hella handsome face, it’s fucking over I swear-

Ron also feels the same when he wakes up next to you and he genuinely thinks that it’s like waking up to an angel-

But Ron’s husky voice when he wakes up is 😩👌💕, is there anymore to say???

You’d two would just stay in bed cuddling with Milo by your side during the few hours of the morning and you couldn’t ask for anything better.

Ron was known and cemented as a hardened, scary, and stern soldier, but you didn’t mind one bit. 

Because to you... Ron was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to your life, and you couldn’t care less as to what other people thought of him. 💞

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oooooh i’m probably deceased by now, so boo- but the afterlife can wait im proud of writing these hcs!

i hope you enjoyed these hcs lovely anon and i also hope that it was good enough!

but thank you for reading, everybody, i appreciate it so much- 💞💞😩

[funkzpiel]

Peace Offering | The Witcher

I wrote this over the course of spring/early summer 2020, I believe, and I’ve been so excited to eventually share this with you all. This was my piece for the first zine I’ve ever had the pleasure of participating in - @thewitcherzine​ - It’s been so surreal to see my writing manifest in something physically. Such a cool experience.

PEACE OFFERING (AO3 LINK) Fandom: The Witcher Pairings: Alludes to Geralt/Yennefer, hints of Geralt/Jaskier Summary: Every day is the same. Geralt wakes. He takes care of his farm and his horses. He works, he eats, he goes to sleep. Dark hair against a modest pillow, plain eyes staring up at the ceiling - quick to fall asleep. But always all too aware of this strange, gnawing thought that something is wrong, something is amiss. There is something to be worried about, he is certain of it; but when he wakes, nothing is wrong. The day begins again. He takes care of his farm and his horses. He works, he eats, he goes to sleep. He is just an ordinary man with an ordinary, peaceful life... Isn't he? He's happy... Right? Then a man comes hurdling out of the field, bloodied and screaming. And nothing is quite so peaceful anymore. [a/n] huge thank you to @rospeaks and @crocro-dyle - who both reviewed this piece multiple times with painstaking care to help get it to the right word count for the project. You two are angels. Thank you so much.

Happiness was a fickle thing. By all accounts Geralt should be happy. He was healthy, in his prime. He owned farmland, bred horses, and enjoyed a sustainable life. He hadn't been called to war. He needed no sword to protect his property. In fact, he was tucked in a corner of the kingdom that had known nothing but peace. Yet on pleasant days when the sun carded warm fingers through his dark locks and across suntanned skin, Geralt found himself standing on his porch and frowning. Beside the wolf in his heart that had glutted itself on peace there was another wolf. A haggard creature, with gold eyes and snowy fur, demanding vigilance. A wolf with fangs sharpened by lessons from a hard life he had never known and did not understand. It said this was too good to be true. Monsters would come. Villagers would turn on him. No peace lasted forever.

Days like that, Geralt closed his eyes, took a breath, and forced one step to follow another, working until that wolf was too tired to do anything but fall resentfully asleep. The horses helped ease his mind, grounding him with velvety muzzles and nosy lips searching for treats. Time passed like that, slow and sleepy. The sun would rise, he would work, and it would set again. On and on, peaceful and content like a piece of crockery on a shelf.

A perfect existence until it finally tipped over.

His peace was shattered, sudden and unexpected, when a man stumbled out of his grain one day like a specter, arm mangled and pleading, “Someone help me, please!”

Spooked, the horse he was working with tried to rear back. As he hushed it, Geralt felt that scrawny wolf in his chest lift its head from thin paws as though it had been waiting for this. His heart thrummed, but Geralt felt strangely invigorated by it. He settled his horse and helped the man into the house. He sat him on a chair, opened his triage kit, and asked, “What happened? Is it still outside?”

Whether it was beast or man, the danger needed to be dealt with. The stranger was waxen from blood loss and fear, his answer carving an ominous feeling into the room. “Whatever they were, they stayed with the bodies.”

A startling list rattled off in Geralt’s mind. Stabilize the wound. Wash up, secure the horses, and grab an axe. Destroy the man’s blood trail to prevent anything from following it back to the farm. But most startling of all was the realization that for the first time he felt at home in his own skin. Though his peace was shattered, he felt whole.

✨✨✨

Amber eyes flickered open, heavy and hazy. His Cat Eyes Potion had worn off. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness, echoing morosely. A cave... He felt gnarled wood beneath his weary fingertips, digging into him uncomfortably. He was cradled in the base of a tree then... His skin itched and ached, and there was an unsettling sensation of being attached to something.

The desire for sleep rolled over him, as vicious as the death-chill of a blizzard. He felt as though he were bleeding out, but he felt no crusted wounds, no weeping gashes. He needed to move, to break free of whatever was burrowed into his skin.

‘Stay awake,’ he ordered himself; an echo of Vesemir’s training. ‘Stay awake.’

A gentle hand – or what felt like one – brushed back sweaty white locks and murmured, “It needn’t hurt.”

Unbidden, his eyes closed again, gone before he could register that the hand had felt like bark and clay and stone.

✨✨✨

The next day, confident that the stranger – a merchant named Gil – could travel, Geralt saddled a horse to take him to the nearest town for better medical attention than Geralt could provide. Despite how neat the stitches appeared, he was no healer. Gil had been hesitant on the road at first, clinging nervously to Geralt's back, but as time passed and nothing sprung from the forest to ravage them, Gil’s sweating eased and his fingers became less claw-like in Geralt’s shirt.

The town was too small to be a proper city, too big to be inbred. It welcomed a decent trade and hosted the occasional royal. It was known as a sleepy, peaceful place, and today was no different. As they ambled down the main road to the town’s healer, delicious smells wafted from the inn along with a strangely familiar tune. It made something itch in the back of Geralt’s head.

“Oh, I love this song. Too bad it’s not the original bard singing. Not quite as good, but I can’t imagine a fellow like him performing here,” Gil said, “But y’see, maybe that’s a sign. Maybe that’s what we need right now.”

“What’s that?” Geralt asked as he dismounted carefully. The singer was too distant now to make out the words, but the melody haunted him. He patted a flat hand against his horse's shoulder only to freeze as Gil answered, “A w—h-r,” the word garbled and unintelligible, yet striking him like lightning spearing a tree and he—

✨✨✨

Geralt gasped, chest heaving like a man emerging from a frigid undertow. He knew that song. The voice had been different, but he knew that song. The words lingered as though Jaskier were singing it right there.

“Toss a coin to your witcher,” a voice groaned like falling timber. Fingers brushed Geralt’s temples, and in his mind something combed through memories like a breeze through willow reeds, stirring up images of cornflower eyes and merry singing. “He’s happy. Doesn’t that bring you peace? Have I not done enough? Ssh. Just a little longer now.”

An urge to flee rose in him, and yet his body couldn’t answer. He knew this beast, but the name eluded him. All he could recognize was that he'd die before he’d ever have the chance to apologize. That regret sank his heart like a stone.

He succumbed once more to the dream.

✨✨✨

After he left Gil with the healer, Geralt mounted his horse, preoccupied by a nagging sensation that he had forgotten something important. He paused to restlessly look back toward the healer’s home before dismissing his anxiety as the result of an eventful night. He just needed to tuck into a big meal, catch up on sleep, and everything would return to normal.

He passed the inn, doors open and bustling. The bard was singing something energetic and unfamiliar now. People milled around, mindful of his horse, as he headed for the edge of town.

A sound caught him.

Distant humming, followed by a babe’s gurgling laughter and a strange scent. That itch returned, and in his chest that scrawny wolf stirred, snarling. He reined in his spooked horse as he looked for the source. He knew that smell. That song.

The wind slowed, meadow grasses halting mid-sway. The townsfolk blurred in the streets. In a yard nearby, black and white linens fluttered on a clothesline, caught in that same eerie force. Geralt watched with bated breath, lungs aching, as the linens parted to reveal dark hair and smooth skin. A woman perched serenely upon a bench, her smiling visible behind the curtain of her hair. Tiny hands reached for her from within the bundle in her arms. The smell of lilacs dogged him though none bloomed nearby. Something sturdy and indescribable yanked at his chest, leading straight to her like a boat fastened to a dock, one useless without the other.

“...You flee my dream come the morning. Your scent: berries tart, lilacs sweet. To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy,” she sang, notes drifting and pleasant, yet the words didn’t seem to fit. Her gaze lifted slowly to meet his, and Geralt was pinned beneath its mournful weight. “Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep.”

“Yennefer,” he said unbidden, her name slipping free as the world stilled and every sound fell away to nothing. She held his gaze, that dreamlike smile radiant on her face but her eyes, oh her eyes, pleading with him to wake.

He needed to wake up. To fight. To survive whatever had him – roots, digging into his skin, leeching him slowly while he slept – and return to them. Both of them. To apologize before a witcher’s end robbed him of that too.

How do you wake from a dream? You die. By the gods, how he hoped he was right. His hand reached for his dagger. Palms calloused from years of fighting and hunting, not tending to horses, clenched around the hilt. He lifted the knife. He closed his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have struggled, witcher.”

He opened them to find Yennefer gone. He lowered his knife in a daze, taking in the empty village, the stillness, the silence, and finally his captor. A little girl, blue eyes too big for her face and long ashen hair like her mother’s.

“When I heard of the wish you made to spare the life of the insect who nearly enslaved my brother, I knew retribution was necessary. But you outsmarted my brother honorably, and so I offered you a peaceful death,” Ciri said. Without ever having met her, Geralt knew it was her as keenly as he knew that he was a witcher. “I gave you everything you wanted. A normal life. Happiness and success for your friends. No burdens, no child surprise. You could have died happy. You still can.”

A peaceful death. Not many witchers had the chance. Nearly none, in fact. But thinking of Vesemir, thinking of the pride and purpose he drew from training lads to survive and in taking care of Kaer Morhen, Geralt wondered what happiness truly was. Because it wouldn't feel like this.

“Tempting offer,” he admitted. Tempting to lie down and accept the dream for what it was: an easy way out. But he thought of Jaskier and Yennefer. How they looked when he pushed them both away. Of Cirilla, lost and alone. He knew what it felt like to be abandoned, to have your home and family stripped away. The importance of the people who took you in after. “Afraid I can’t.”

Ciri watched him with startling coldness. “So be it.”

Geralt gasped violently as he woke. Above him a glowing mist illuminated the cave, the tree cradling him, and the vines piercing his skin like a web of veins, sapping him slowly and steadly lest the well dry too fast. It was a Djinn. Without a master to subdue it, it was free to feast insatiably upon the lifeforce of mortals. It had used the dream to pacify him as it drank its fill. Geralt kicked himself for not realizing sooner.

“Remember that you chose this, Geralt of Rivia. You chose pain,” it rumbled like a rockslide, so deep it rattled Geralt’s bones. A misty hand dug into the earth, and from the bedrock a dozen more hands of stone emerged to latch onto Geralt. A D’ao, Geralt realized. A spirit of the earth rather than air like its brother. With the aloofness of a man stepping on an ant, those stone hands clenched. Geralt felt bones grind and creak. He clenched his jaw and quashed the panicked voice chanting, “I’m going to die,” as he reached for the training that Vesemir had drilled into him.

Igni would ignite vines, but not stone. Quen would crush him beneath his own barrier. There would be no influencing an Ancient with Axii. He had but one recourse left.

It was an effort to reach for his Signs, but he managed Aard. It burst the stone from his limbs. The Djinn howled. With a giant hand it tore Geralt from his prison of vines, casting him across the cavern. Something cracked as he hit the wall. Spots erupted in his vision. He slid to his ass, hands falling lank.

The mist drew near, the image of something humanoid taking shape under writhing vines and stone. Its booming voice reached Geralt in fits and pops, ears ringing. It raised a giant fist to crush him, yet Geralt cracked an exhausted grin.

He had just enough to cast this one thing: Yrden. It seared him to his bones to do it, and for a moment he thought it would not be enough. But a purple halo gripped the Djinn fast despite the trembling of the witcher’s hands and the slowing stutter of his heart. Geralt panted as enraged screaming filled the cave, pressing in on him from all sides.

“I’ve caught you, D’ao,” Geralt wheezed. Unconsciousness loomed, but he persisted, fueled by the lulling notes of Jaskier’s song, Yennefer’s violet eyes, and a child's beseeching gaze. “I’ve bound you to this realm.”

It didn’t matter that his trap wouldn’t last long. The Djinn was bound. The honor of the Ancients would handle the rest. Around the D’ao, Yrden flickered erratically but held.

“Make your wishes, witcher,” it snarled, the sound rattling inside Geralt’s skull.

“I wish to be healed,” Geralt said, and with an angry hiss magic cocooned his body until his heart steadied and his bones reknit. He sucked in a grateful breath, his spell strengthening as the pain ebbed.

“I wish for a truce between myself and all Djinn,” he said, and this time the D’ao howled until crumbles of stone pelted the ground; but none touched Geralt. Not while he was still the Djinn's master.

Had he asked for protection, it might have harmed him in some second-hand way. Had he asked it to leave, it might have sent another in its stead. But a truce was undeniable. He was not going to die. It was a heady realization, but most of all, it revealed what he had been content to ignore for so long. His path was suddenly bright, the way made clear for him.

“I wish to know how to find those to whom I am indebted,” he finally said. For he owed apologies to Jaskier and Yennefer, and to Ciri so much more. The Djinn ceased its howling and the air around them stilled. Geralt felt the D’ao’s heavy gaze upon him.

“Honorable…” the D’ao mused as his Yrden slipped away, and without further fanfare so did the Djinn. The tree wilted, the cavern now empty and unremarkable. The D’ao was gone.

In its place sat a certainty in Geralt’s chest that if he went west, he’d find Jaskier. That if he went northeast, he’d find Yennefer. That if he went to the epicenter of those two points, he’d find a small child with ashen hair and blue eyes, wading through the chaos of the world to find him. Like the stars above, those points rotated slowly in his heart. No matter which way he turned, he knew how to reach them. Their hearts shone in the darkness, illuminating what he hadn’t understood for so very, very long: Happiness was what you made of it.

[sacredmouche]

Consider the following: Wholesome nap time cuddles and stuff with Suna and Kunimi

Note: I don't know how to put this so I came up with headcanons. I hope I met you expectations, but if you want a fic version of this I can post it :> I have them ready. Thank you for this request, I enjoyed writing this!

Suna:

• I see Suna as someone who sleeps a lot, so he is basically sleepy all the time

• He would always be inside your shared bedroom and will drag you there with him MOST OF THE TIME to cuddle.

• It will take a while for the both of you to take a nap… coz who can take a nap if SUNA RINTAROU IS BESIDE YOU and is cuddling you.

• Not when he’s extremely tired he’ll go straight to napping

• But will drag you still.

• COZ HE A BIG BABY AND IS soft FOR YOU

“Baby come here” you’re making dinner for the both of you when you heard him call for you on the bedroom. You can’t resist that big babie but you must make your food for the evening and so you told him you can’t. He yelled “don’t make me drag you, honey!” and you did not believe him because you thought he’s too lazy to do so–

You thought wrong. You are now currently being dragged right now by your boyfriend towards your shared bedroom. The trip to your bedroom is not long and now you can feel his arms around your waist, while he whispers sweet nothings on your neck. His breath fanning lightly.

“Y’know it’s too early to make dinner” he said while peppering you with kisses on your cheek down to your neck. You just hummed. He knows your weak spot and he does not hesitate to attack it with his soft strokes, he knows how to put you into sleepy mode.

Both of you ended up cuddling with each other while telling each other jokes when you feel his hands travelling to your body part where you’re ticklish and then he poked it. A yelp escaped your mouth and you swear to god… you just heard the most immaculate giggle you ever heard in your entire life and you can never get tired of hearing it even when you listened to it nonstop 25/8.

You felt competitive so you attacked his ticklish part, too. Now, the two of you are tickling each other. Mixed laughter filled the bedroom, the silent atmosphere a while ago is now replaced with his sweet giggles and your perfect hoot.

• Yes, cuddling with Suna will include tickling coz he loves to hear you laughing

• Your laughter is like the sweetest love song for him.

• Could listen to you ALL DAY.

• When both of you gets tired from tickling you go back to cuddling until you two falls asleep.

Bonus:

• When you wake up and see his eyes still shut, you got up

• But then he pulled your arms

• “cuddle with me more” he said.

• Ended up eating deliveries.

Kunimi:

• Like Suna, he is sleepy all the time.

• He’ll come to your place after his weekend training

• Poor baby, feeling tired all the time

• He will go straight to you

• Then he saw you, his tiredness be gone.

• Seeing you is equivalent to taking a rest

• Basically, you’re his rest

• His haven

• His bae

• This baby will suddenly put his head on your shoulder

• Or your legs

• Or your stomach

• Or on you, in general.

• You = pillow

Kunimi and you are peacefully sitting on your couch. He came to your place right after their weekend practice when you informed him that your parents are out. Your eyes are glued on the television in front of you, his tired looking eyes gaze upon you and is slightly closed. He’s sleepy. He spotted your shoulder where he would lay his head down.

You rubbed his head and he let out a soft hum. His scent travelling up to your nose, you lay your head on top of his so you can smell him more. His scent is the most divine thing for you, next to his existence. You felt his hands wrapped around your stomach; his eyes still shut.

“Do you want to sleep on my bed?” you asked but he refused. Hugging you tightly “hmm, I wanna stay like this” he replied. You insist but he keeps on refusing, so you gave up. After a little while of silence, you thought he was asleep when he moved and buried his face on your neck, sniffing it. “You smell good,” he uttered under you which painted your face a light shade of pink.

He keeps on whispering tooth-rotting words to you while his face is still on your neck, your arms are around his shoulders. He’s sleepy but he wants to savor this kind of moments with you because it’s not everyday he gets to cuddle with you.

• He lets himself drift to sleep when he can’t take it anymore

• He’s a cat.

• You got yourself a human cat.

• He sleeps on your shoulder

• So it keeps you from moving so he won’t wake up

• You ended up falling asleep too

• Your parents saw the two of you sleeping on the couch and took a photo of it

• Coz you two are a perfect couple

• Cuties

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #335

“on my forehead, a birthmark  /  remove it with the kiss of a knife  /  even if it causes me to die”

Do you recover well from surgery? Judging by the two surgeries I've had, oh yeah. I was hyper as hell when I came home from getting tubes put in my ears as a little kid, even though the doctor said I'd be very sleepy. Then, after my cyst removal, I was put on very strong painkillers but was still warned it was going to be a painful recovery, when it totally wasn't. I literally only took painkillers the first day. What addictions have you had? Caffeine, technology. Would you change your name if you became famous? Nah. If Cupid were real, would you hire him to make someone love you? No. I don't want somebody forced to love me. Ever been to an auction? No. Which word(s) do you generally use to describe someone attractive? (e.g. “fit”, “sexy”) It kinda varies with gender. Women I tend to call "beautiful" or "gorgeous," sometimes "hot" or "cute," while men I usually refer to as "handsome" or "hot"/"sexy." The last person you kissed - are they older or younger than you? She's a bit younger. When was the last time someone wanted you to do something, and you refused? Hm. I dunno. I have a hard time saying "no," so. When was the last time you had Pop Tarts? What flavour were they? Many months ago; I kinda stopped eating them because they're truly not filling and just a load of sugar that veils itself as an actual breakfast choice. But anyway, I liked the chocolate sundae ones. Have you ever felt a temperature below 0? No. Did you ever play Spyro? I LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!! SPYRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those games were my CHILDHOOD, and it's half the reason I'm dying for a PS4 to play the remastered trilogy. Speaking of which, it'd be awesome if they remade the The Legend of Spyro trilogy as well. I might just like those games more than the originals, but that's a bold statement I'm unsure about. Have you ever dated someone who was of a foreign origin? I dated a Hispanic guy for less than a day. Have you ever read any of your idols’ books/autobiographies? Ozzy Osbourne's, yes. I'm just fucking waiting for Mark to write one, but he's always said he has so little interest in writing about his life. DO IT, YOU FUCK. Do you own any succulents? No. I think they're pretty, though. Do you have a drone? No. What’s your favorite Netflix series? *shrug* What is something a lot of people like but you don’t? Summertime. The heat, the humidity (at least here), the sunburn from just standing outside for ten minutes... I hate all of it. The ONLY two things I enjoy about summer is swimming and then flowers, though spring is the more floral season here anyway. Do you have revenge fantasies that you never actually play out? They've... happened. Did your first real significant other change you at all? Pretty sure forever. Are you waiting to have sex until you’re married? Once upon a time, that was the plan. Now, nah. I'd just want to be in a healthy, stable, and long-term relationship. What do you think about divorce? It's sad, but necessary for some people in order to be happy, which everyone has the right to be. I used to be very firmly against divorce except in extreme cases like abuse, etc., and I'm still definitely no fan of it and think couples should do their best to work things out, but it's incredibly unfair to believe that someone should be stuck for the rest of their life with a person they just don't love anymore. Getting married can be a mistake; don't damn people forever to be chained to their bad decisions. Do you remember the first time your heart broke? What was the reason? It was probably when Dad just abandoned us. What's the worst prank someone has ever done to you? I don't think anyone's ever pulled a sick joke on me. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk? Yes; my little sister deadass tried to walk outside late at night. Thank God I was on the computer in the living room and stopped her. What song are you listening to right now? I just turned "Mutter" by Rammstein on. When is the last time you cursed? I'm not re-reading, but I have probably cursed fifty times in this survey already. It's so deeply ingrained into my vocabulary. Are there any words on your shirt? No; it's just a plain gray tank top. Why do you forward forwards? I never do because they annoy the fuck out of me. How many people are you interested in at the moment? Just one in a healthy and logical way. I can't be truly interested in Jason because like come on I haven't spoken to him in four whole years. My PTSD just ensures I never forget the memory of who he was, who probably no longer even exists. I mean, look how much I'VE changed in four years. Do you know any mechanical stuff about cars? Nnnnope. Who was the last person (apart from family) that you spent time with? What did you get up to? Apart from family, I have no idea. If you have pets, when was the last time one of them got on your nerves? Venus never does, but Roman can get on my nerves sometimes when I don't let him lay on me when I'm on the laptop in bed. He's a large cat (not overweight, just a big male cat) and blocks the screen big time unless he lies down properly, which he doesn't always do. He still tends to win when he tries to come over, but sometimes I'll block him with my arm, and this spoiled brat will actually slap it a few times before walking away lmao. Would you rather live in a house with a swimming pool or an indoor cinema? Absolutely a pool. I want one badly. Do you own a credit card? If so, do you currently owe any money on it? Could you afford to pay it off tomorrow if necessary? No. How many hours of sleep do you typically get each night? Is that enough to function or would you rather have more? Especially lately, I don't get nearly enough. Like at the time I'm answering this question, it's 4 AM, and I've been up for almost a couple hours. I struggle with falling asleep, I will ALWAYS wake up at least once in the night, and I jerk awake from nightmares regularly still. It's a big reason why I pretty much require naps. Does your house have a loft/basement? Are they functional or do you just use them for storage? We only have an attic. Do you suffer from road rage? What kind of thing tends to set you off or wind you up while driving? No. I'm way too timid of a driver to get that outwardly pissy about stupid people. I'd just judge them in silence, haha. What kind of animal did you last see in the wild? Is that a common sight where you live? Because of just how common they are, I'm going to assume this excludes birds, in which case it was probably a squirrel? Yeah, the normal brown ones are common. Do you post a lot on social media? If so, what kind of thing do you tend to post on there? Since I was fucking stupid enough to post a suicide note on Facebook (I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about "attention seeking," I genuinely wanted to say goodbye), I almost never, ever, share things about my personal life. Even before, it was rare for me to actually share what's going on with me. All I really do now is share relatable, wholesome, or funny shit I find, as well as political things I'm in firm agreement with. What are some habits you have in common with your parents? I pace like my dad, and it drives people crazy because it apparently makes them anxious? I can't think of an obvious one I have with Mom, but I'm sure one exists. Where's your favourite place to swim - the ocean, a pool, river, lake etc? I feel safest and most clean in a pool, but c'mon, swimming in the ocean is so much fun. When you're saving your place in a book, do you use a bookmark or fold your pages down? Or something else? It depends on the book, it seems. Especially if someone else owns it, like in school or something. Is any part of your body hurting at the moment? Is there a specific incident that caused the pain? My legs always hurt. I've shared enough as to why; it wasn't an actual, singular "incident." What was the last thing to make you laugh out loud? OH MY FUCKING GOD. So in group therapy the other day, one of the girls had her bearded dragon out, and he was being aggressive. I think he tried to bite her aND SHE SAID WITHOUT REALIZING HER MIC WAS ON, "fucking dickhead," and everyone d i e d. She's a really cool chick, I'll miss her when I'm finished with PHP. Who was the last person you heard sing? Myself, surprisingly enough. I barely ever sing. Do you bite your lips a lot? Yes, especially when they're dry. .-. What part of your body would you never get pierced? Anyone who gets a piercing "down there" has a greater pain tolerance than this bitch right here. Have you ever dated someone with tattoos? Juan had quite a few. I don't remember if Tyler did... but I think maybe a The Legend of Zelda-related one? Have you ever failed gym in school? No. Are you scared of dogs? No; I love dogs. What is the saddest movie you’ve ever seen? Man, idk, I'm a little bitch when it comes to emotional movies. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is high up there, as is of course Johnny Got His Gun. Old Yeller, too. Which one of your friends is most likely to be famous one day? Why? Sara's gonna write a fuckin book series ok you can't convince me otherwise. What is the worst present you have ever gotten? Damn dude, what an ungrateful question. I'm just appreciative someone even thought TO give me something. Do you shave your arms? My armpits, yes, but not my arms themselves. How many people have you dated? I only count three as even remotely serious: Jason, Sara, and Girt. Have you ever performed in a play? I remember back in Sunday school as a tiny kid I played Mother Mary in one we did in class. Do you chew gum? I have been more lately since my doc upped the dosage of one of my mood stabilizers (which I think is actually helping); I mention that because apparently a side effect is dry mouth, and it's the fucking Sahara in there. He advises those who deal with it to always carry around hard candy or something like that for the sake of forcing salivation, so gum works for me. How old were you when you first started dating? I was in the 7th grade when I had my first "boyfriend," but it was total puppydog love. I started dating my first "real" bf when I was just shy of 16. Are/were your parents strict? Dad, no. Mom, only to a degree that I feel was pretty reasonable. She only ever wanted to prepare us to be functional, independent adults. Didn't work so well on me though, ha... Do you wear glasses? Yes. God, I need new ones. I'm blind as hell. What do you miss most about your childhood? Being so outgoing and happy to just be weird lil me. Do you write “To-Do” lists? Not really, no, but I do have notes on my phone about a couple things, like a bulleted list of planned monetary investments by importance, as well as a list of drawing ideas. Do you have a favorite quote? What is it? I don't, really. There's loads I like, but no one favorite. Could you survive as a vegetarian? I pretty desperately want to, but I don't know if it's realistic. I am so, SO picky, and without meat, it's very questionable as to where I'd get an adequate source of protein. I still want to try again though once I'm at my goal weight. Has anyone ever asked you for your autograph? Lol no. Has someone of the opposite sex ever told you that you were sexy? Yeah, but that was a looong time ago when I was actually some semblance of pretty. Do you prefer to take your showers at night or in the morning? I used to be someone who firmly stood by nighttime showers, but now I'm all about them in the morning. It's a nice way to wake up and start the day with productivity. Could you handle living with a male roommate? I mean, I lived with my then-boyfriend once, but I'm going to assume you'd consider him more than a "roommate." We lived with our two other friends, though, also a couple, and I was totally fine with living with them. Has anyone taken their shirt off in front of you? Yes. Do you like Freddy Krueger? His concept is very scary, but all the movies I've seen bits of have always been super cheesy. Which do you prefer, Naruto or One Piece? I haven't seen either and really aren't interested. What do you think of Rob Zombie? I've never really watched his movies, but I'm a fan of his music. What’s you fetish? I don't have one. Have you ever been in the “friend zone?" Well, what I'd call a "fake" one with Jason after the breakup until I was blocked on Facebook. I know now he absolutely did not want to be friends; he was trying to appease me. Is the area you live in more liberal or conservative? Definitely conservative. Do you know anyone who had to have tubes put in their ears as a baby? Yeah, me. Were either of your parents baptized? I'm certain Mom was, but idk about Dad. I think so. The last concert that you were at, was there a mosh pit? No. What was the last computer game that you played? World of Warcraft. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. Are any rooms in your house themed? No. What was the last thing that you recorded? I think Mom and I singing "happy birthday" to my late dog Teddy; we knew it would be his last. Do you like the show Futurama? Not really. Have you ever been in a choir class? I was in the elementary school chorus, as well as the choir at my childhood church. Are you ashamed of any of your family members? No, only myself. Were you a chubby child? No. Did you ever have senior photos done? No, even though I wanted them. Who is the person you dislike the most? God, this is so petty... but it's the girl Jason dated after me. I know it's childish as hell to feel like she "took" him from me, and I just feel this horrible hatred towards her that is entirely uncalled for. I just can't get myself to move past it. Do you take part in paying the bills for your household? No, as I'm unemployed and also don't have disability, so I literally can't. How do you usually celebrate New Years? I really don't do much. Sometimes Mom will grab a pack of daiquiris, but that's pretty much the extent of it. Does the place you work have music playing? What sort? N/A What was the last job interview you went to? At a local grocery store to work in the deli. Got the job, lasted there for not even two hours. :^) Do you know anyone with autism, mood disorders or learning disabilities? Autism and mood disorders, yes. I myself may have high-functioning Asperger's (yes, I know that term doesn't technically exist anymore, it's just the umbrella term of "autism," but w/e). Have you ever had an immediate relative pass away of cancer? My grandmother died of pancreatic cancer, and it's pretty much guaranteed that, unless there's some sudden accident, my mom will die of cancer, too. Hers got too bad to entirely eliminate every trace of cancer cells, so it will inevitably re-emerge at some point, just obviously some place else given that she had a total hysterectomy. Would you rather work in an office, warehouse or on a retail shop floor? Office. Are you a fan of sweet, sour, salty, or savory snacks? I enjoy all of those, but sour I think tops the list.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

A new marriage and an old one, pt4

Summary: Robb is getting married and Catelyn have been married for many years. This is a happy story about the Starks (mostly Ned and Cat, but also the others) that takes place in a world where AGoT never happened and they’re all living happily in Winterfell.

Rating: I’d say mature, but message me if it should be changed. 

English is not my first language, so I apologize if there’s any spelling or grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it :)

~*~

”You spoil me” she panted.

Catelyn was laying on her back and looking up at the canopy. A wide smile was on her lips. That had been more than good, that had been great. She wouldn’t have said no to celebrating twenty years every night. Maybe she would suggest that each day should be an accomplishment and that they should therefore celebrate every night.

Ned pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at her.

“It’s you who spoil me. Gods, Cat. How do you expect me to ever willingly leave the bed after you give me that?”

“I don’t want to leave the bed either.”

He laughed.

”Happy anniversary.”

”Happy anniversary.”  

He leaned down and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, a kiss full of love. The best type of kiss. She closed her eyes and wished that she could have frozen time so that they could stay like that forever. It was just perfect.

”I love you” he mumbled against her lips.

She slid a hand up into his greying hair.

”I love you too.”

So so much. Love was pleasant, she was lucky to have a good husband that she could love. And that loved her back.

A knock on the door interrupted them. It took Catelyn no time at all to heat up and become very irritated at whoever was knocking on her door that late. Being interrupted was about the last thing she wanted.

”What now?” she groaned.

”Don’t open” Ned said and kissed her again. ”We are available in the morning, not now.”

He was right. The person at the door could wait a couple of hours, it couldn’t be too bad. She leaned into the kiss, pulled Ned a little closer. But against her will she came to her senses after a second knock on the door. If it was important enough to come to them in the middle of the night and knock twice, they couldn’t just ignore it.

”We can’t” she sighed and pushed him away.

She left him in the bed and wrapped a robe around her very much naked body. While doing so, she caught sight of herself in the looking glass that was standing in a corner of the room. Her hair was a great mess, her cheeks were still flushed with color, there was a mark on her neck. A very visible mark that was too high up on her neck for her to cover it with the robe. Catelyn Stark was in no way presentable to anyone besides her husband in that moment, but she had to pretend that she was. If she acted like it, maybe they wouldn’t question her appearance.

She looked at Ned and shook her head.

”Oh cover yourself” she told him.

He only grinned at her, not moving. And she couldn’t help but letting her eyes roam over his body. She wanted him. She wanted to run her hands over his muscled body, she wanted to touch him, and taste him. She wanted to put her mouth against his cock, she wanted to hear him moan her name in response. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. But satisfying her desires would have to wait.

”Don’t get me wrong, I like the view. But I want to be the only one enjoying it.”

When he still didn’t do anything, she quickly walked over to the bed and threw a blanket over him. You had to do everything yourself if you wanted to get anything done in that bloody castle. Then she opened the door and found a very impatient Arya outside. And there was a lot of people running around. Which wasn’t unusual during the day, but it was in the middle of the night. Why were everyone awake?

”Finally! How long can it take to open a door?” she asked.

”It’s late” Catelyn said.

She tried so hard to pretend like the love bite on her neck didn’t exist. Even though it did and she could see on the instant change in Arya’s body language that she had noticed it.

”It doesn’t look like you had blown out the candles for the night” Arya said and raised her eyebrows.

”Has anything happened, Arya?”

”Lya and Hossie are out of bed and hiding somewhere” she said. ”We are already looking for them, but we thought you might want to know.”

Not again. That was the second time that month and last time it had taken hours to find them. They wouldn’t have any fun the following months, that was a thing to be very sure of. And no dessert until they were fifteen. It would be time for bed the second the sun reached the horizon. And guards outside the door to their room.

”I should have suspected that they were up to something” Catelyn said and took a deep breath so that her head wouldn’t explode. ”We’ll be out in a minute.”

She closed the door a little harder than she had intended. She really couldn’t get one quiet night with Ned. Of course something came in the way. Of course it was some of the children. Of course it was Lyanna and Hoster.

”Get up, it’s time to hunt for children!” she said to Ned and threw him his breeches that had ended up on the floor. ”I need you to stop me from actually killing them when I catch them.”

”What a way to end this pleasant night!” Ned said.

He laughed as he got out of the bed. Gods, she was seeing red and he laughed. He really couldn’t be mad the second Lyanna was involved in anything.

”No matter how much Lyanna tries, you won’t let her out of it. Do you understand?”

”Aye, Lady Stark” he said and bowed before her.

”Ned!”

She managed to dress herself with just some help from Ned with lacing her dress. Then she brushed her hair in a rush so that she wouldn’t look like something from north of the Wall, and let it flow free over shoulders so that it could hide the love bite. Gods, she really should have stopped Ned there. She was out of the room in a minute as she had said and Ned was not long after her.

She immediately turned left and towards the stairs. There was a small and very dark space beneath the steps at one place, you couldn’t see it if you didn’t know it was there. She knew they liked to hide there and suspected that she would find them there. If not, they were at least somewhere in the Great Keep, there were guards at the ways in and out that would have stopped them if they had tried to get to the rest of Winterfell. But the Great Keep was just that. Great. So it brought her close to no joy.

She walked past an open door, but stopped when a sleepy voice spoke to her.

”What is happening?”

Margaery looked very confused even though she seemed to be half asleep.

”It’s nothing, dear. My youngest are out of bed. Nothing to worry about, they can’t leave the Great Keep.”

”Oh, I’ll help you look for them” Margaery said immediately.

In a second the sleepy veil that had covered her eyes was gone. 

”There’s no need for it. I’m sure that they will turn up any second. You should rest, tomorrow will be a busy day” Catelyn said and smiled.

”You will be my family in two weeks. And I should help my family” Margaery insisted. ”Family always comes first.”

The gods had sent a woman from the brightest of the seven heavens to marry into Catelyn’s family. ’Family always comes first’. Catelyn had grown up by those words, she had taught her children those words. Family was the most important thing in the world, and her son would marry a woman who understood that. It warmed her heart.

”Thank you” she said.

”It’s nothing” Margaery smiled.

Catelyn nodded and continued her way towards the space where she was sure she would find her little twins. And to her great disappointment, it wasn’t quite that easy. She wouldn’t get to go to bed with her husband again. They were not there.

Her children were a little piece of heaven that she got to carry with her on earth, but at times she got ungodly tired of them. When she had to run around the Great Keep in the middle of night in order to find them, for example. That wasn’t very nice.

~*~

The next day Catelyn was even more tired. She had not believed that to be possible, but appearently it was. There were not many hours of sleep in her system, but it was better than nothing, she supposed. She felt like she could have fallen asleep standing up when she spoke to the cooks. Everything seemed to be in order though, so that was a relief. Catelyn left the kitchens and walked out into the chilly air. It was a cloudy day, and windy. The winds were cold, grabbed at her cloak and got underneath her clothes. She hated the northern winds with a burning passion. If only that passion could have kept her warm. Well, if she was going to look upon it from the bright side, the cold had jerked her awake and it kept her body alert.

She walked past the courtyard on her way back to the keep. Robb and Jon were sparring so she stopped watch them for a few minutes. Margaery was also there, watching the young men with a small smile playing on her lips. Robb was physically stronger than Jon, but Jon were quicker. They danced around and tried to get in blows on the other one, but no one ever got the upper hand. Until Robb looked up for just a second and noticed that Margaery was watching them. He grinned sheepishly at her and though he was a bit away, Catelyn was quite sure of that he was blushing. But then Jon had taken advantage of his brother’s distraction and knocked Robb to the ground. He kicked Robb’s sword out of his hand and held the tip of his sword to Robb’s chest. 

“Ha!” he said. “Yield!”

“Okay, I yield” Robb answered after a moment of silence.

And despite his defeat he was smiling when Jon helped him up on his feet again. But he wasn’t smiling at Jon, he was still smiling at Margaery. And he walked over to her and started talking to her. When Catelyn walked away so that she could carry on with her duties she also smiled. Robb had her appearence, but for a moment she had only seen Ned. Robb had smiled at Margaery the way Ned had sometimes smiled at Catelyn when their relationship was still very new and they had just began develop feelings for each other. And she thought that maybe she had witnessed a seed that would grow into a beautiful flower. 

“Why is Robb so happy?”

Rickon ran up behind her.

“I think Lady Margaery makes Robb happy” Catelyn said and ruffled Rickon’s hair.

It had already been quite ruffled because of the wind, she had not made anything more messy than it had already been.

“Is he in love with her?” he asked with a grimace. 

“Maybe he is. I don’t know.”

“Is he going to kiss her like Father kisses you?”

Catelyn laughed at the boy’s expression. Rickon was eight, not yet old enough to understand the feeling of when someone you liked smiled at you and your chest fluttered. He had expressed disgust when he had found Catelyn and Ned kissing some time before, and had later asked Catelyn why you would ever want to kiss someone. She had told him that sometimes when a girl and a boy likes each other a lot they could kiss each other because it felt nice. 

“I can’t answer that, you will have to ask Robb” she said.

“Okay.”

Rickon practically bounced back to Robb and Margaery. Catelyn had to stop in her tracks. She had not expected him to actually ask Robb, but she absolutely had to see what would happen. So she turned and looked as Rickon approached his eldest brother. And laughed when she saw Robb turn as red as his hair when he heard Rickon’s question. Margaery also laughed.

“Mother!” he shouted angrily.

“Yes?” she called back.

“Why did you tell him that?”

“What did I tell him?”

“You know perfectly well!”

“No, son, I don’t have a clue of what you are talking about” Catelyn said innocently. “Well, now I have business to attend to, you’ll have to excuse me.”

She made her way back to her chambers and sat down with Margaery’s veil. She was actually pretty confident about that she would be finished with it that day. So she sat there with the veil and her needle, slowly making progress on it. Margaery was actually going to wear it when she marred Catelyn’s son. Her eldest son. He was getting married. And tears began to form in Catelyn’s eyes when she after a while actually found herself sitting with the finished veil in her hands. She had made that, she had made that for her future daughter. The girl that made Robb smile and blush and get distracted. Oh, to be young and foolish and in love. She smiled through her tears as she held it up so that she could see it properly. She hoped that Margaery would like it, she hoped that it would look good with the dress. She hoped that her son would have a good marriage. Margaery really seemed to make Robb happy, and the other way around. She was happy for them. Her little boy was getting a wife.

“Mother?”

She looked up and saw that she had not closed the door properly. Lyanna had peaked her little head through the opening.

“Yes, sweetling?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of course” Catelyn said and smiled. “Where is your brother?”

She didn’t have to specify which one of them.

“He wanted to watch Robb and Jon fight with their swords, but I thought that was boring” Lyanna said as she slowly came into the room. “Were you crying?”

“Yes” Catelyn said and dried her tears with the back of one hand. “I guess I was.”

“Why?” she asked.

Catelyn put aside the veil and held out her hand towards Lyanna, the little girl came over to her and took it. Catelyn pulled her up into her lap and she quickly made herself comfortable.

“Because Robb is getting married” she said and kissed the top of Lyanna’s head.

At least Lyanna was still small. She still sat in Catelyn’s lap and asked Catelyn to brush her hair. She asked Ned for stories before she was going to sleep, and followed her older siblings around because they were the most wonderful people in the world to her. The same went for Hoster. There were many years before they would get married and leave Winterfell. 

“I thought that was a good thing” Lyanna said.

“It is a good thing” Catelyn said.

Lyanna turned her head and looked at Catelyn with a puzzled expression on her little face.

“So why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy.”

“You don’t cry when you’re happy” Lyanna said.

“Sometimes when grown women and men are happy they cry tears of happiness” Catelyn explained.

“I’ve never seen you cry. Have you never been happy before?”

“I have been happy many many times before, but we don’t always cry when we are happy.”

Catelyn could see how hard her daughter was thinking. Lyanna always scrunched up her face when she didn’t quite understand things, it was the cutest thing Catelyn knew. 

“Old people are odd” Lyanna said after a while.

“Yes, old people are odd” Catelyn agreed. “But one day you’ll be old too and then you’ll understand.”

Though it would be many years until that.

Catelyn put her hands to Lyanna’s sides and tickled her. Lyanna giggled and squirmed so much that she almost fell out of Catelyn’s lap. When she recovered she asked Catelyn to tell her a story. So she told Lyanna of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Lyanna loved hearing that story, though she wasn’t very interested in Aegon. She mostly wanted to know everything about his sisters. Catelyn knew that she didn’t really have time for it, but soon a day would come when Lyanna didn’t crawl up into her lap and asked for a story. She had to treasure those moments because one day they would stop happening. So she told Lyanna everything she knew about Visenya and Rhaenys.

When Catelyn laid in bed that night, with her back pressed to Ned and his arms around her she thought of how much stronger their love had became over the years. And though Ned no longer blushed when he looked at her, there were something stronger between them. And they had built a beautiful family together on that, built a home. And they were so lucky. She was so lucky.

“What are you thinking about, my love?” Ned asked.

“How lucky I am to have you and our children” she said. 

She felt how he moved aside her braid and placed a featherlight kiss on her neck.

“I’m the lucky one. I have a beautiful, clever, kind, perfect wife. I don’t know what I did to deserve her. And together we have made eight wonderful children.”

They had made every child together.

“They are growing up. No one told me children get big so fast.”

“Lyanna and Hoster are only six, Rickon is eight, Bran is twelve, Arya is fourteen” Ned said. 

“Arya has bled” Catelyn reminded him. “According to the laws of gods and men she’s a woman now.”

“She might be a woman according to the laws of gods and men, but she is not yet an adult. She still has to run up to Maester Luwin every now and then because she has scrapes all over her body from playing. Either with her wolf or with her younger siblings. I know that the fact that Robb is going to take a wife soon makes it feel like they are all grown up, but most of them are not.”

“But soon they will be. Soon they will all marry and move away to distant corners of Westeros and it will be just you and me left here.”

“It will be quiet” he said.

“Very quiet.”

It wouldn’t be quiet, the castle would go on as usual. There would be loud noice coming from all over. But the sound of Jon and Robb bickering with each other as they sparred in the courtyard, the sound of Sansa’s singing, the sound of Arya’s laughter when she played with her direwolf, the sound of Bran reading stories about brave knights and great kings out loud to everyone who would listen, the sound of Rickon shouting in delight every time he managed to put an arrow close to the bull’s eye, the sound of Lyanna and Hoster talking way too loud for what was appropriate. All those sounds would be gone. And when they were gone it would in a strange way be deathly quiet in the castle. 

As Catelyn reflected on how she would absolutely hate the silence that would fill Winterfell when all of her children had left a question popped into her head. She turned in Ned’s arms so that she could look at him, their faces were so close that their noses almost touched.

“Ned, I want to try for another child” she whispered.

“Another child?” he asked surprised.

She blushed, maybe it had been a foolish suggestion. They had eight children already and they sure were a handful. If he felt like that was enough she would fully understand him. They had agreed on that they wouldn’t actively try to have another babe after Lyanna and Hoster, because eight children were quite a lot. But they had also said that if she became pregnant that wasn’t something bad, they would welcome all the children they might have. She was ready to start trying again though, just a last time before she got too old for it. But if he wasn’t, that was okay too. She was perfectly happy with her family the way it was, she loved all her children with all of her heart.

“Only if you want to, of course” she assured him. “We don’t have to.”

“You know what, Catelyn Stark? I would love to have another child with you.”

Then they needed to get started as soon as possible, didn’t they? 

“Do you want to make a child with me now?” 

“I really want to make a child with you right now.”

With a smile she kissed him.  

~*~