#sorry officer it was simply so so chilly

[arcaneyouth]

if god wanted me to be productive then why cold

[goldenstring6123]

Lnds: Reconciliation

Warning: Still a bit angst-y. no teeth-rotting fluff. lots of drama.

Author's note: Please read "Lnds: Fighting with them" first before reading this one.

Zayne:

Well, most of the problems have been resolved already when you have heart-to-heart talks with him in his office. Although it was inevitable that you would shed a tear of frustration, Zayne would never let you go to sleep with a heavy heart.

Despite being mentally exhausted from your work and your fight, his genuine kindness will never flicker, especially towards you. When he gets home, his first instinct is to find you and check on your state—sure, you've resolved the issue through the conversation. Still, he isn't naive to think that lingering afterthoughts of the fight won't weigh your heart down.

Zayne loves you, and albeit he can't say it directly, he'd show it to you instead.

When he finds you, you are most likely lost in your thoughts, reflecting or distracting yourself in one way or another, but it will almost always be the same scenario: you will be sitting out in the garden in your nightwear.

Zayne would place his bag down and head to the kitchen to brew your favorite warm drink, doubling the amount of sweetened cocoa powder. It's not healthy to drink, but it was okay once in a while. You could hear the clinking of the teaspoon hitting the mug, and shortly after, Zayne was behind you, draping a knitted shawl over your shoulders.

He would hand you the drink and simply sit beside you in silence. He wasn't on his phone and dared not speak, letting only the chilly air envelop you both.

It wasn't awkward; there was no tension. Just silence.

And a little warmth as his hands clasped onto yours, his thumb grazing your palm.

That moment made you think that whatever you fought about felt trivial and tiny.

"I'm sorry for getting mad," you tell him lightly. "Thank you for the drink."

Zayne had said his sorries, and he didn't really need to hear one from you, but nonetheless, you were heard. He felt your head rest on his shoulders, and together, you basked under the full moon.

Xavier:

Xavier was looking for you. He went to the office and to that small hidden field, searching for an inkling of your presence. He didn't know what he would do once he managed to find you, but it was the last thought in his mind.

You weren't in your apartment, and it had already been 24 hours. Xavier waited patiently in silence, reflecting on your fight. A phantom of pain from you slapping him amplified the fear in your face, sending an ache through his heart.

He shouldn't have done that. He didn't know why. You never had the habit of running away during a fight, so he was unsure why he was unconsciously pressing you against the wall. Xavier is more than aware that his strength is incomparable to yours. You would, quite frankly, stand no chance if he used force, but that was precisely the point; he had no reason to use it.

He wanted to apologize to you, and he wanted you to reprimand him. He could take another hit from you, but what he can never accept is seeing that frightened, cornered look on your face.

You arrived pretty late into the night, and he was still there on your sofa, patiently waiting for you, almost like a little puppy. You spared him a few seconds of your glance but turned away soon after, taking off your coat, dropping your bag, and heading to the bedroom to speak.

You lay in your bed, facing away from the door because you knew too well that he would come in after you. Even then, you didn't lock the door. Xavier looked more than dejected when you didn't speak to him. You kept your position and closed your eyes shut.

Quietly, the silver-haired man made his way to your bedroom, peeking before carefully entering and lying beside you. Lightly, he clutched onto the hem of your shirt. "I want to apologize," his voice cracked a little, almost making it seem he was on the verge of tears.

"I don't like it when you corner me," you told him.

He scooted closer. "I know, I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."

"I don't like it when you don't listen to my side of the story."

"I'll listen to your side next time," Xavier said, his voice faint yet closer.

It was the perfect time to let go of your anger. You never really talked about his habit when you fight, and you were partly at fault for tolerating it, hoping he would just listen one day. But how would Xavier change something when he didn't know how it affected you so much?

You rolled over to finally face him, his eyes going wide. You stroked his cheek, the side which you slapped the day before. "I shouldn't have slapped you. I'm sorry." Luckily, you didn't hit him too hard; otherwise, the ring on your finger would've cut his face.

Relieved that you had forgiven him, Xavier grabbed the hand that stroked his cheek. He closed his eyes and basked in your warmth. "Don't be. I scared you, and I deserved that." It was a quiet moment for you. Neither of you really knew what you had to say to each other. All was forgiven, and what awaits is simply the both of you fulfilling the end of your promises.

To fill in the silence, Xavier scooted closer and closer, kissing the exposed part of your collarbone shortly after, burying his face in your chest. You smell like coffee, he thought, but rather than stir him awake, it lulled him to sleep.

It didn't take long for him to snooze off to dreamland; after all, he waited for you for a day, not once sleeping in the hopes that he could see you face to face.

Rafayel:

In this relationship, you're almost always the one who needs to go after him, coddle him like an infant, and practically mend the entire relationship. Almost.

On rare occasions, Rafayel would apologize. That was the case for that big fight between you two. You had gone no-contact, leaving him on read most of the time. You avoided the place where you could likely find him wandering about; after all, it was him who should be going after you in this fight. You didn't owe him anything.

You ended up on the sandy shore of the bay, watching the tides threaten to soil your shoe, only to retreat and slither back into the sea. The cold air brought with it the salty scent of the ocean water, bringing a slight comfort to your nose.

The roughness of the waters masked the crunching sounds of Rafayel's footsteps; only then did you notice his presence when those familiar, gentle arms circled around the dip of your waist.

Silence.

"I was looking for you," he uttered under his breath.

"Why?"

"To apologize."

"Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" That came out of your lips monotonously, yet it struck every fiber of Rafayel's being.

"I said too much. I was mad, and so were you, but that's not an excuse to insult you and your feelings." To Rafayel, the waves were ready to swallow him whole. Like a poor little crab, unable to run away from the sea. "I was wrong for doing that, and I was wrong for shutting you out."

The apology wasn't enough. It was sincere, but it wasn't enough. "You can't keep doing that to me, Raf. You don't even get to give me a chance to speak." You pried away the hands that tried to bring you comfort. "You curse at me, you insult everything about me, and then kick me out like I'm just a major problem you can toss aside."

You could see your lover bite his lip. Anxious.

You love Rafayel, and there's nothing that can change that, and even if you were the one running after him during your fights, he fails to comprehend that you get tired, too.

"I'm an adult," you started. "We both are, Rafayel. But when we fight, why do you belittle me so much? Do you really think that low of me? Do you think you can push me around and make me follow all of your emotional whims?"

"No!" Rafayel exclaimed, in disbelief that your thought process had led you to say what you said. "I was mad. I didn't mean anything that I sai—"

"Then treat me right, Rafayel. Is that so hard to do? Is it really complicated to just…talk? Is it so hard to just sit down on your couch and listen to me?" You kept your lips shut, eyes staring at him without much thought. The usual cheery tone of your voice, nowhere in sight, in its wake, exhaustion. "I can only do so much for you, and I'm growing tired the more you do this to me—I get tired as well, Rafayel. You need to realize that."

The poor man didn't know what to say. Your words invaded his head, ridding it of any thought. They hurt. They stung at his heart. His fingers raised to lightly pull the hem of your sleeve, eyes meeting yours, glossy and flickering with fear; with hesitation, he asked: "Are you…breaking up with me?"

"I love you too much to break up with you." You took his cold hands. "I want to make us work. So help me. I can't do this alone." You tell him.

Your fingers were tiny against his own, yet they belonged in the in-betweens. You closed them and placed a kiss on the back of his palm.

He pulled you into an embrace, tightly, like the world was about to end in a matter of seconds.

He was cold, but his hug was warm. "I promise I'll work on myself. I don't want to hurt you again, and I don't want you to get tired of me." Rafayel whispered in your ear. "So don't give up on me. I'll change…"

The spare hand that hung on your hand gradually crept up his back, finding its usual place between Rafayel's shoulder blades. You rubbed small circles, the only comfort you could provide despite your exhaustion.

"I'll hold you to your word." You pressed a kiss on his cheek. As you did, you realized something you didn't a few minutes before.

Rafayel's exposed neck, his thin clothing, and his sandals didn't cover his whole feet. In the cold seaside, Rafayel looked like a madman wearing an indoor outfit, as if he had just walked out of his home without much thought. No wonder why he was so cold. He was shivering both at the thought of you nearly breaking up with him and because of the chilly mists of water hitting his way.

You unrolled the cotton scarf that warmed your neck, wrapping it around him instead. "Let's head home, I don't want you getting sick."

He quietly complied, pulling away from you but keeping your hand locked with his.

Sylus:

The same things happen again and again; it makes you feel numb. Empty.

There was no difference when you woke up alone or when you woke up in his embrace. Not when you were fighting.

Not tonight.

Sylus was awake. You couldn't see him due to the sheer darkness of his room, but he was there, his thumb brushing against your nape while a leg crossed over yours. You stared off into the corner of the room, wondering who was going to speak first.

"We're not breaking up, sweetie." It was more of a demand rather than a statement.

"We won't," two can play at his game. "If you apologize." Nobody would want to be abandoned and left hanging for a month. Especially not you.

You mustered the strength to push yourself up, expecting a bit of restraint from your lover—to your surprise, he let you stand up.

"Apologize for what, exactly? It was you who decided to test my patience. You were the one who cursed at me, calling me names and even throwing things in my way, so pray-tell, sweetie, what do I have to apologize for?" He stared at you, his gaze unfaltering and intense.

"I'm sorry," you stood your ground, yet the apology was long due. "I don't remember what we fought about, but I apologize. For cursing at you, for throwing things in your face. That won't happen again."

A lengthy breath escaped his lips, sounding unsatisfied with your seemingly half-hearted and shallow apology. Sylus wouldn't want to admit it to you, but he doesn't even know why he was mad; all Sylus knew that evening was that he was overcome with too much anger, one that he would usually release through violence. But it involved you. He doesn't want to hurt you or lay a hand on you, so the best option he has is to get away.

He didn't know for how long he should be gone, and in the blink of an eye, a full month had passed.

His anger had long been gone the same time as your loneliness began to fester.

As simple as the apology sounded, it was more than enough for him. "You're forgiven. Don't do that to me ever again."

The man stood up, and you watched his figure as he strode closer to you. He could see the look in your eyes, the anguish mixed with despair, and as he was about to pull you into a hug, a reverberating slap echoed in his room.

The back of his hand stung. And so did your palm.

"You're not going to touch me until you apologize, too, Sylus." Your throat burned at your own words. Your feet felt like they were buried half an inch into the floor, preventing you from running away. He looked down at you, low-lidded eyes devoid of any life.

"Why should I?"

You wanted to laugh at his crap.

"Why is it that you demand compensation every time I leave you on read for more than 3 days? Why do I have to explain where I've been, who I was with, and why I was gone while you—" A bitter laugh bloomed out of your mouth, "While you come here and not even offer a single bit of an explanation nor an apology?"

Sylus offers nothing in exchange for your words. He avoided you, that he can't deny. He used his work as an excuse to bury you at the back of his head and intentionally minimized your presence in his life.

"Hah," the ache at the back of your neck crept to the back of your head, nearly sending your head to throb all over. "You're unfair, Sylus. You're so goddamn unfair that…" You couldn't continue the words you wanted to say. It will only fan the flame in your heart and his.

"I just," the shiver in your breath snapped Sylus into reality. The feeling in your throat was uncomfortable. It was slowly becoming tangled, choking you of air. "I just want an apology from you, Sylus. Even just a small apology for abandoning me." And the fact that you had to beg him for it is just…

Sylus wrapped his hand around you, keeping your arms in place. You tried to break free from his grasp, but he held on to you tightly, not offering you a way out. Your face was smashed against his chest, and you could hear his heartbeat, pumping, beating all too fast.

"Forgive me," Sylus whispered. "There's no excuse for what I did."

His words were like the key to your eyes as tears began to cascade down your cheeks. There was no need for him to say anything else; it was enough for you. There was no strength left in you to reciprocate his hug, but you wanted to.

Sylus slipped his hand underneath your thighs and lifted you up. Carefully trudging to the bed, he laid you down in the same place you got up, tucking a blanket over you. He got on the bed as well, pulling you closer to his grasp.

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow." He stroked your cheek and placed a kiss on your eyes. "We can talk properly, and I'll apologize again," Sylus said. The same hand that touched your cheek slid down onto your shoulders, caressing it up and down.

The weariness began to settle in. The soft mattress and pillows and his warm touch.

It was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open, and you didn't know why you were fighting the fatigue, but Sylus' promise helped you settle down.

He doesn't go back on his words and doesn't say things he doesn't mean. You hold him up to his words.

And quietly, you drift off to sleep.

Author footnotes: I changed the writing style to a somewhat story-telling format. I hope you guys don't mind.Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[halfdead-halfskeleton]

Notes:

You have a burnout and Rook is comforting you.

"Melancholic" once again, so maybe a bit OOC? HCs/fic/whatever it is too.

I don't know how to deal with burnout effectively and properly, so don't take it as a guide or anything like that.

Let me know if you want to see my hcs about how Rook deals with his burnout.

One day, instead of going to NRC like usual, you studied from home using one of Idia's spare tablets. Nobody knew why you suddenly decided to do that. You didn't look sick yesterday, you didn't say you felt sad or exhausted. Your friends just thought that you probably caught a cold again or simply wanted try out the tablet. But Rook, on the other hand, was more than aware something was wrong, even if he couldn't say exactly what at first.

You looked so cheerful the day before it seems suspicious to him. Rook decided not to comment on that back then just in case you genuinely felt so happy.

But when you didn't show up to classes in person he knew it wasn't the case.

So, he decided to secretly leave you some gifts in the afternoon!

Your comfort food, some favourite sweets and drinks, even photos you took together while exploring woods behind the campus.

It did surprise you at first, but you immediately could tell it was Rook's doing. He wasn't nearby so you thanked him in your mind. "I'll do it in person later," you thought.

While all of these gifts were great and they did make you happy at first, your mood suddenly went down.

You felt guilty for making him worry. And you knew these presents won't give you energy to go back to college to socialize and study with barely any breaks. And don't forget about cleaning up everyone's mess...

In a few days, you stopped showing up. At all. You didn't even use that tablet. You couldn't bring yourself to get out of bed, let alone study. You tried to get up but kept falling back, if your body even tried to listen to you in the first place. But a sudden loud phone call managed to get you up instantly.

You picked the phone in panic, your heartbeat was so fast you could hear it loud and clear in your head.

The person who called you was Rook. He paused before speaking so you could catch up your breath.

"Good morning! Hope you're doing better, we all are worried about you here. If you need medical help, I can bring you to the nurse office at anytime."

You reluctantly responded, "I'm glad to hear that but... I can deal with that myself."

"Can you? You're going to overwork yourself again and burnout even more. So please, let me lend you a hand."

"I don't need to go to the nurse though, I'm not doing that badly."

"But are you taking care of yourself?" You didn't respond. You genuinely forgot or just didn't have energy to do your daily routine. You even forgot to eat some of the sweets he gifted you. "I'll visit you once I'm done with my work, alright?"

In the evening, when Rook entered your room his eyes were locked on you. You looked clearly exhausted, half-dead if you will. You didn't even brush your hair this morning. Yet he still found you beautiful.

He kept murmuring compliments while brushing your hair. You smiled out of reflex, even though you didn't feel super comfortable. You were so used to taking care of others, it felt so weird to be taken care of.

"This sweet little smile of yours is just so magnifique! You know how to charm people in an instant."

Rook even did your makeup! And helped you to get in warmer clothes, as it was a bit chilly inside your room.

Afterwards, you had a nice dinner. He made sure to choose something both healthy and what you would've liked for 100%.

When you said you didn't have much appetite and left a bit of food untouched he understood that. You kept feeling like you forgot something important and just couldn't make yourself eat because of that.

Suddenly being taken care of like that was pretty overwhelming to you, so you asked him to leave for a while. "I'm genuinely sorry, but... I really need to stay alone for a while. Could you go outside for some time? You're a vice housewarden, I'm sure you have a lot of work. There's no need to spend so much on me anyway."

"Non, your well-being is one of the most important things for me! But I will leave for half an hour or more, so take a good rest. I'll knock on the door when I come back, agree?"

You nodded and he soon left. It was hard to relax, yet you tried. You lied in bed for who knows how long, staring at the ceiling and not moving. As you began to doze off, Rook gently knocked on the door. Wait, was it really half an hour already? Oh. It was almost midnight.

You quietly said "Come in" as you couldn't get up and open the door yourself. Rook entered the room with some papers. Was it notes for your classes? Yeah, it was.

He cuddled with you until you fell asleep despite trying to stay awake. You remembered what you wanted to do and why you didn't really have appetite earlier. In the end of the day, you still didn't thank him! You began to speak but only a barely noticeable "Rook..." left your mouth. And so, you feel asleep in his arms.

It will take a lot of time for things to go back to normal. And yet, despite everything, there's someone willing to be with you when you feel like an empty shell of your own self. "Goodnight," he softly kissed your forehead before falling asleep as well.

[liminalpebble]

Violet: Chapter 4, Holy Adoration

Masterlist 

Chapter 4: Holy Adoration

Several weeks later Will sat in his office reviewing the essays of his students and tabulating their grades. He was making good progress until he stopped at a paper filled with that familiar, peculiar handwriting. 

“Violetta Vespero,” he sighed out with exasperation, putting her work aside until he could finish the others. He always had to brace himself and come to her work last. Her arguments and research were detailed, specific and relentlessly sharp.

He often saw her in the campus library long after hours, the creamy white pages of open books arranged in front of her over the long mahogany table in an extensive tidy row. Rather than sitting, she would stand, scurrying from one volume to the other flipping pages, rearranging, making notes. There was something about it that made him think of a surgeon walking back and forth over an operating table, precisely poking, prodding, slicing, and removing vital parts. It was as if her mind wouldn't allow her to sit still, and she wanted the vast hall to herself for this strange scholarly dissection. The first time he visited the library in the wee hours, after being plagued by insomnia and the noise of the city for several nights, he found her there. The overwhelming surprise of her engaging in this unusual ritual stopped him abruptly in his tracks as their eyes met. He was dumbstruck and frowned quizzically for several moments before he finally said, “You're not supposed to be here this late.”

“Neither are you,” she quipped back, then said wryly with a hint of a crooked grin and an arch of her eyebrow, “I won't tell if you don't.”

He couldn't help smiling faintly and blushing, though he had to avert his eyes to the floor under the acuity of her scrutinous stare. He was embarrassed to be seen in his disheveled leisure clothes and uncombed hair. “We have a deal then, Miss Vespero,” he replied, carefully hiding the amused boyish giddiness from his voice and trying in vain to hastily smooth his tangled hair with his hand.

From then on they would simply nod in acknowledgment to one another and then ignore each other as much as possible, leaving the other to whatever was occupying them. She would smirk as she noticed how he now combed his hair and wore more presentable clothes for his visits. Will would still always feel a bit sorry for disturbing something apparently sacred and solitary. It was as if he were intruding on an intensely private act (though she was probably doing the work he himself had assigned her). In any case, her presence didn't stop him from his nocturnal outings. Though he was reluctant to admit it to himself, he looked forward to finding her there. Though they were mostly respectfully silent towards each other, he felt as if they had an understanding; a tacit agreement that it was rather nice to be alone together.

One evening he strode in as restlessly as usual, ready to acknowledge her with that curt nod, then rush to research whatever new topic had sunk its teeth into his boundless curiosity. To his surprise, a tray containing a teapot and two cups was laid out neatly on the table beside her row of books. Violetta wordlessly poured a cup for him, placing the warm porcelain in his chilly hands. “Thank you,” he eventually stuttered out, with the most innocent and endearing smile of gratitude at the simple gesture. She was utterly disarmed by those blue eyes becoming so soulful and soft, but tried with all her might to seem nonchalant.

She simply nodded and waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, saying “It's nothing,” and returned to her research. Merely recalling the episode made him grin irrepressibly. Will Ransome was a man who found joy in small kindnesses. He saw it as evidence of humanity's persistent goodness. It was the same joy and awe he felt from learning more and more about this intricate and amazing world his God had created. In these moments he found grace, divine presence, and if he was lucky, peace. Did she find the same? Did she seek the same?, he wondered.

He came back to his task, flicking through more essays with swishes and scratches of paper and pencil, but it wasn't long before he was dwelling on the puzzle of her again. Will thought it was a shame that her gender precluded her from the study of law. She would have been magnificent in such a profession. She is magnificent, he thought, and it made his neck uncomfortably warm under his clerical collar. But it was more so the Violet of the daytime, the classroom, whom he could see as a mercilessly sharp lawyer, not the Violetta who carefully handed him a cup of tea at midnight. In those late library sessions she seemed the smallest bit softer, less defensive, more relaxed in their solitary solidarity.

She was different in lectures by the light of day, more on edge and anxious...but then again, so was he. It wouldn't be exactly fair to call her an irritating student. She was polite enough, never really doing anything wrong or rude. She was just...what? He couldn't be sure. Never content with the easy answers, she would ask unabashedly if she didn't understand. She spoke up firmly and fiercely when she wanted to know more or if she disagreed with his reasoning or arguments, but never forgot her manners.

At first she was most likely to debate him in the religious classes, however, one day, abruptly, she simply ceased to. He discovered her silence frustrated him more than her restless inquisitiveness. Will found himself missing her challenges, looking forward to her presence, her persistence, her temperament, like craving a too-sharp fingernail to scratch a stubborn itch. The thought that she might have stopped pushing because she no longer found his lessons interesting or valuable wounded him more than he anticipated.  

As he looked over his grade book, he was not surprised to see the accumulated evidence of her brilliance. In almost every topic she was extraordinary. He hated to admit that she was surpassing his own skill and knowledge in several subjects. What was he going to do with her now? He thought with a huff. She was remarkable in everything, except the divinity lectures and biblical studies. He scowled at the grade book. Ms. Vespero's marks had been steadily declining in that area, not failing by any means, but clearly settling for mediocrity when she was capable of so much more.

It needled him deeply for her to waste potential. They would need to have a meeting about this. It couldn't go unaddressed, he decided, though he realized many of his colleagues would never bother. They had no qualms about dismissing female students as simply debutante fuel for a social engine and nothing more, not to mention their means to a salary. He heard how they complained about these young ladies during their flavorless communal dinners; shameless crotchety old men who hunched over their plates and desks, bitterly refusing any concession to new ideas or creative thinking. He scowled and shook his head at the thought. Must my gender be full of such Neanderthals? Or worse, is that my future as a man of God?

Will was, honestly, a little afraid to confront Miss Vespero, but hoped she would appreciate that, at heart, he was advocating for her success against such backwards men. The reverend was silently cheering her on to prove them all wrong. He hoped she would best them. She was certainly besting him in alarming ways.

Reverend Ransome could guess how she would meet his gaze when he confronted her; dark brows knitted in suspicion below thick waves of hair held up with a pencil, arms crossed defensively, large dark eyes blazing away like coals. She wasn't loud. She wasn't mean. The girl simply didn't bother being more solicitous than necessary, and he always got the feeling she was speaking to him from behind a jagged wall of defensive wit. There was a loneliness about her, and he recognized it as the same sort of specter that haunted himself; the sort that whispers in one's ear, This is a deliberate choice and it's better this way.

Will shook his head, uneasy with the amount and frequency of moments he'd begun to spend thinking of Violetta Vespero. The parson hated to call her Violet, with a full name that beautiful and fitting. He smiled a little at the corner of his thin mouth, and recalled with a crinkle of his eyes, how she would always incorporate some shade of purple into her attire, and when he came closer to help her, he would smell the lush woody scent of her fine violet perfume. These seemed to be her own little inside jokes to herself, for herself; her own little rebellion of maintained, tangible identity in a place trying to remake her. He closed the grade book, and finish up for the day, trying to ignore how even her paper intoxicated and excited him with the scent of her.

--

Taglist: @coldnique @muddyorbs @goblingirlsarah @acidcasualties @jennyggggrrr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @icytrickster17 @pati52 @marcotheflychair @ladyofthestayingpower @gigglingtigger-deactivated20230 @alexakeyloveloki @letsg00000honey @bitchyexpertprincess @lokisgoodgirl @sweetsigyn    

[themarginalthinker]

No, Thank You

Robin works at a coffee shop, and has an early start to the morning. A good friend helps her start the day.

-

For a strange little au @berd-alert and I have dubbed 'can I have your name? (for the coffee)' - a modern-era fae au, where Robin is a human just trying to get through college, but unfortunately, finds herself in the mix of a bunch of immortal, magic goofuses and the problems they bring with them from Faery.

Remember: never pay back a deed what was done in friendship ;)

Robin passes a hedge, dying back in the early autumn season, full of crisp yellow leaves from a beach tree nearby, and suddenly he's walking beside her like he was always there.

"Mornin'!" He chirps.

"G'morning, Steve," Robin says, only a little blearily.

He’s wearing a goldenrod yellow sweater, even thought the weather is only a little cool, and likely to get warmer as the day goes on, light wash jeans, and sneakers that always look only a little scuffed, but never dirty. She squints at him when he gives a small, chagrined shake of his head.

“You wanted to surprise me?” 

His smile doesn’t waver. “Maybe a little. You used to jump when we did that, appearing out of nowhere.” 

Robin shrugs, and suppresses a yawn. “You used to be unknown quantities.” 

“And you know us now?” 

“Well enough, I think.” 

Indianapolis was waking with them. The rosy light of the early hour creeping through the air in the eastern sky and burning away the scattered, wispy clouds of dawn as it went. The very tips of the tallest buildings of downtown catching the first rays of sunlight. To the west, the last stars of night fading away. The air smelled new; like something changing. It was early September. 

No wonder Steve was in such a chipper mood. Almost time for him and his Court to shine. 

Robin adjusts the bag that’s slung over her shoulder as she walks. “Well, sorry I couldn’t be your morning entertainment.” 

Steve rolls his eyes as he keeps perfect pace with her, nearly matching her step for step. “Saying ‘boo’ to random people gets old after a while, you know. And I did just want to say good morning.” 

She believes him. Not like he can lie. 

After a few minutes of silent walking, he speaks again. “You alright? A little quiet today.” 

“Steve, it’s six thirty in the morning. I was up pretty late last night studying. I almost slept through my alarm. Almost fell asleep again in the shower. It’s…just gonna be one of those mornings, I think.” 

Steve looks at her for a few more seconds, and this time, Robin can feel his eyes on her. 

Looking her over, seeing into every flyaway hair she tried to hide under her knit cap, the dark circles she hadn’t bothered to hide today, her rumpled shirt. Robin normally didn’t put much stock into how she looked, but that was more in the fashion department. This morning, she was just. Sloppy. And it prickled at her skin when she knew someone (who mattered, anyway) was seeing that. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she sighs. 

Steve raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. He does stop looking, at least. 

He also doesn’t say anything else as they walk. Not that Steve is overly chatty (and fuck, she likes him, but Robin is so grateful that Eddie hadn’t decided to come say hi this early…) but normally he does try to keep a thread of conversation going. Now, he simply lets her have the silence. 

Well, as silent as early morning in a big city can be. 

The coffee shop sat yet-dark and waiting for them. Robin lets the two of them in with a key to the padlock on the alley gate, and a punch of numbers into the lock pad at the back of the building. Slipping inside, she starts turning on the lights. 

Her bag is placed in a little lockable closet in the back by the office, her hoodie shucked off and shoes changed into her work sneakers. Robin makes a small detour to the bathroom. 

Cold water to the face doesn’t do much but make her feel damp and chilly again. She blinks at herself in the mirror, telling herself to just go through the routine. Things will be better when she gets customers coming in, and the minutes don’t feel like they’re moving at the speed of a pitch drip. 

Something makes a sound outside. Like banging, running water. Someone moving glasses around. 

Robin’s brows furrow, and she slips out of the bathroom, back to the front of the store. 

She finds Steve of all people, behind the counter. He moves between devices, turning them on, and starting to organize the shelves along the back wall. Filling carafes with water, turning to cabinets to pull bags and boxes of things out, refiling the pretty jars people could choose from with beans and tea leaves. Robin looks over, and sees even the lights in the little ‘bakery’ section were on. When she breathes in, the faint scent of cinnamon and something almost smokey filled her nose. 

A hand startles her out of her reprieve. 

“Sit,” Steve tells her, motioning to a table close by. 

Robin’s lips purse. “Steve-” 

“Please?” 

…Well. When he said that…

Robin, dressed in her little visor and her comfortable work shoes and even her little green apron, watches from this side of the counter as Steve prepares the shop for opening for the day, as if it were nothing. The smell of brewing coffee slowly fills the space, and Robin finds herself leaning heavily on her hand, eyes sometimes closing without her say so. At some point, music filters in, like the sigh of wind through leaves. Maybe she left the door out back open, there’s a slight chill to the air around her, the scent of burning, autumn bonfires growing stronger-

She comes awake when a paper cup is set on the table before her. Cinnamon. Spices. Heavy cream and tart, sweet cider. 

“Take five, and then turn the sign on?” Steve asks gently. He’s done with his self-imposed chores, evidently. 

Robin takes up the cup, and takes a sip through the hole in the lid. 

It’s perfect. Of course. The chill is driven back with warmth. 

“Sure.” 

Steve smiles and turns away, fingers tapping out a beat that she can’t follow, but in her tired mind, finds she wants to. To listen to it, to drum out her own melody…

Robin takes another drink. 

Through a tired mind, put at ease by the drink, distracted by her own thoughts, it almost slips out. 

“Tha-”

“Ah.” 

It’s a piercing, discordant noise that slices through the lovely, soft morning. Steve turns as he makes it, sharp and off-key, his auburn eyes suddenly staring, right into Robin’s. 

The smell of burning wood turns ashy, and the taste of the cider on Robin’s tongue sharp, too tart. 

The music like wind through dead branches grows louder in her head, and the air takes the chill again. 

The word of ‘thanks’ dies on Robin’s tongue. 

There is a moment between them, when Steve watches her close her mouth, and Robin watches him relax from that unnatural stillness. She wanted to say sorry. 

She mustn’t say sorry.

The coffee shop comes back into focus around them. 

“I really am tired today, huh,” she says, breathy. 

Steve’s mouth, finally, comes back into that known, easy, human quirk. His eyes gentling. 

“No kidding.” 

He lets Robin have half the drink to herself, and putters about doing who knows what for the remaining minutes they have. (Robin isn’t watching the clock, but, she suspects that those ‘five minutes’ aren’t being measured by any time in the world around them, allowing her the time she needs, rather than the time she’s given…)

Eventually though, she stands, and Steve comes to her side. Together, they go to the front window as the sunlight breaks free of the city skyline, glowing brilliantly through the cafe. 

“This was a nice morning, Steve,” Robin says. 

He nods. “Of course.”

With a flick of her thumb, the ‘welcome’ sign lights up, and so begins another day. 

[adultswim2021]

Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job #49: “Greene Machine” | April 26, 2010 - 12:30AM | S05E09

One of those TIm & Eric episodes that’s more-or-less one thing. This is actually introduced as an episode of Inventive Discoveries, a paid-programming commercial presentation for the Tairy Greene Machine, a refrigerator-sized appliance that is dedicated to showing you any movie, TV show, or public appearance featuring Tairy Greene. It’s hosted by Tim & Eric, the later of which has sliced his hands very badly and requires medical attention. He instead opts to wrap them in gauze and proceed with the infomercial.

We are treated to an extensive trailer for The Little Dancing Man, starring Tairy Greene, portrayed by then-comedy mega-star Zach Galifianakis. It’s a weepy-but-inspirational tale about a brilliant ballet dancer who loses the use of his legs. He is despondent, and constantly crying. The ghost of Levar Burton appears to him, and either helps him recover, or is just holding him up the entire time Angels-in-the-Outfield-style, eventually leading him to lift off and fly around like a dang-ass bird. He is still crying constantly, but now they are tears of joy. 

Our hosts show us how to get extra features, like the kind you find on a highfalutin special edition DVD edition. This costs extra, but luckily it’s only two Tairy Tokens (which cost $39.99 apiece) to see the tie-in music video. 

Enter Mary Bly, the high-strung old woman whose delivery is unlike anyone else's. She wants to watch The Little Danson Man, a spiritual spin-off to the Tairy Greene film about Ted Danson being shrunk down by a bolt of lightning and having to adjust to his new life of being hella small. David Cross is in this, playing his agent, who promises to get him all the tiny things he could ask for. David Cross again approximates Tim & Eric’s sensibilities and slightly misses the mark, but he’s mostly okay in this. Him saying he gets the “chilly willies” just reminds me of him saying “I ain’t no ho-ho” in the Abstinence episode, and I FAMOUSLY didn’t care for that. Sorry to pick nits, I promise I respect David Cross. I even watch his bad podcast sometimes. 

There’s also a tie-in music video for this film, featuring Peter Cetera from the band Chicago. Some friends of mine have a mutual fascination with a certain public persona who loves the band Chicago, and I remember riffing with them about his reaction to the sketch. We would mock this man for having a son, for some reason, and I suggested that the part in which the tiny Ted pops up and tugs on Peter Cetera’s cool earring just disappointing this man on a profound level, and that he’d be watching it with his son. He would turn to him, shaking his head in disapproval, point to Tim & Eric on screen, and say to him, “those men fucked me, son”. Made us laugh, anyway. 

Okay: I am pretty sure Tim told a story on Office Hours or somewhere about recording Peter Cetera (It might be about someone else, but I’m having trouble finding a source to confirm or deny my claims) who took all of this very seriously and was a consummate professional. According to Tim there was a little lull in the conversation and Tim was feeling awkward and found himself mindlessly asking Cetera if he ate “a lot of fish”. 

The Tairy Greene Machine runs on tap water, but when you’re done using it you simply open the back of it to let the water spill out on the floor. The machine comes with a bunch of mops, so you simply mop the mess up.

While mopping, Eric eventually succumbs to his blood loss. Tim eulogizes him by slapping his shoulder and saying “you were the best”. Cut to a panicked Mary Bly, seemingly caught in an unguarded moment of genuine confusion. She looks into the camera and pathetically asks “What am I supposed to do? Who am I??”. I recall Tim & Eric discussing this moment as a highlight in their careers, and it inspired them to cast Mary as Mrs. Heidecker in their Billion Dollar Movie. She also shows up in a Funny or Die Presents segment that was created by Tim & Eric collaborators Ben Berman and Jon Mugar.

I’ve always really liked this one, and have used the whole crying-too-much thing as a reference point for pandering, over-serious tear-jerkers. This is basically satirizing the dramatic version of a sitcom, only instead of a laugh-track there’s a crytrack.

I’m usually glad when Tim & Eric do an episode that is roughly all one thing. Some of them are like short films, while some are things that still resemble the format of a typical Awesome Show episode, just with everything tied together. Is this Jim & Derrick? Brother, it’s not even Anniversary. But I consider this a highlight of season Cinco, even if you don’t. 

EPHEMERA CORNER

[ghost-guard-13]

Quite a Disguise

Requested by @oolunafoxoo Hope this is kinda what you imagined <3

Nick Fury x Talos

Warnings: Language, Guns, Blood, Violence, Death, Smoking

Summary: Going undercover per Fury's request yet again, Talos wants nothing more than to get into his own skin once the mission is done. When Nick unexpectedly appears in the middle of the final day, Talos must play along, but can't help but mess with his friend along the way. (Takes place around the 1990's - 2000's, no real specific date) (This isn't my best work ngl but I sorta like it) (Also sorry if they're a little OOC, sometimes I have trouble with writing characters that aren't mine so- sorry :])

Talos dragged the unconscious body into a supply closet, mimicking the mans appearance as he did so.

The man's name was Novak Smithy, a member of the organization known as The Raven. They had been causing trouble on a national level, and although it was important enough to get on Nick Fury's radar, it wasn't big enough to drag S.H.I.E.L.D into its mess.

Hence why the shifter was here, taking another mans face and stealing the means to take the organization down from the inside, per his good friends request.

He harbored deeper feelings for the dangerous director of the world's largest, most secret company meant to keep the world safe, of course. He had since around 1995. But that was a problem for a later date.

Slipping Novak's I.D. and other possessions from his person, he rehearsed what information he knew about him prior.

Nick hadn't given him much time to prepare for this job, nor a specific target to shift into, so he had taken it upon himself to choose a higher ranking officer in The Ravens ranks and study him for a week or so from afar, taking the appearance of passerbys throughout the days. Finally he felt confident enough to get the ball rolling and finish this mission. He wanted to be in his own skin again.

"Just a few more days," he whispered to himself, shaking out the broad shoulders he now had.

And so, turning off the lights and entering the empty hallway - one of the only ones without a camera - He straightened his now shoulder length hair and army green jacket, breaking off the closets jaunty doorknob on his way out and dropping it into a nearby bin.

Copying the low-hipped saunter he had seen Novak take on throughout his day, he began the hard part of his job, copying the mannerisms and such from his hosts everyday life.

He just hoped it wouldn't be long.

~ Six Weeks Later ~

Talos walked beside Novak's closest friend and associate, Isaac Lloyd, the chilly breeze whispering the coming of Autumn in their ears. The Skrull shimmied further into his jacket, muttering to his 'friend' in vague codes, or simply commenting on the pedestrians of New Jersey.

He had learned more than he thought he would in the last month, most likely enough to give Nick an update, if not blow the place to the ground, and he was ready for the final day to end.

What he had seen here though...he knew he'd never forget. The morbid methods they planned for the future, the ideas he had to give in order to stay out of suspicion, the way they treated their prisoners was inhumane. He wanted to leave during the first hour within the compound, but he stuck with it, knowing no one else would suffer if he saw this to the end. At least not by their hand.

Which led to now, where he and Isaac travelled to a nearby coffee shop to pick up lunch for the members of today's shift. They visited so often that the middle aged employees paid below minimum wage had memorized their entire order.

As Isaac rattled off their orders anyways in that husky accent only smokers seemed to master - a sound Talos wasn't fond of - Talos let his eyes wander the danky diner. He saw a few sketchy regulars, and an old lady he's seen visit every other week for one reason or another. She always gets the same thing, and an extra plate of steak and chips to go, he assumes for some sentimental value of a lost one.

Besides that however, he didn't see anything new. Same flickering fairy lights, same checkered tiles and same peeling rose red walls. A sad little place really, but the food was decent.

He nearly turned back to boredly stare into the tip jar when a shadow in the back seat caught his eye. The seat that always seemed to be empty.

First looking out of the corner of his eye, he made out a silhouette he couldn't help but call familiar, the warm and dark colors adorning its limbs pulling him in.

Stretching back and turning his head, he locked eyes - or eye - with none other than Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Shit.

Why was he here? How was he here? When was he-

Shit.

That seemed to be the main word going through his head at the moment.

But the strangest thing? Nick didn't use any secret signal or mouth a word, never even kept eye contact for more than that second. He looked away so fast that Talos wasn't sure if it had happened at all.

But Talos couldn't not stare.

The dim lights shining on his dark hickory skin, the eye patch he wore blending with the shadows, the intense calculation that rested within his deep iris watching his cup of coffee with personal offence, the natural turn of his lip set in his skin.

He must be here for more than a cup of coffee though.

When the one-eyed man glanced his way again, he quickly looked away, thankful for the tan skin that overpowered the blush creeping up his neck.

Wait a second-

That's right, he didn't know he was him.

Nick didn't know who he had taken the face of, but there was no chance he hadn't been keeping tabs on the group since his arrival either, so while he didn't know who he was...

He knew Novak.

Shit.

~ Five minutes Later ~

Issac had went out back for a smoke, leaving Talos on a bar stool staring at his coffee, keenly aware of the director watching him discreetly like the spy he was.

The Skrull wanted nothing more than to sit and chat with his human friend, inform him of the horrid things he saw and give him Intel on other organizations The Raven was working with. And he would on any normal day.

But many things were at stake here.

For one, Issac could come back at any second. His smoke breaks were inconsistent, so he wasn't able to tell when he'd be returning.

Then there's the fact that Nick could choose not to believe him. He could think he, Talos, had been captured.

He was sure that with enough time, he could be convinced, but what time he had was unsure and running out...

He could give a hint, a few actually seeing as Isaac wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed and he loved to brag.....

Talos decided, finally, to bring a bit of light into his currently sorrowful situation.

Sure enough, Issac appeared minutes later, tapping Talos' shoulder, nodding his head back to the door he had just entered. Having no other choice, he nudged his chin up in confirmation. But just before he closed the door, he glanced at Nick suspiciously and quickly looked away.

That outta get his attention.

As the man beside him dug out another cigarette, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching his breath swirl with the rising smoke beside him.

"What's new, man?" He asked, the human slang falling naturally from his lips.

"The boss called, started talking about our next delivery."

Delivery, of course, meant one of two things. Drugs, and prisoners. Experiments, more like.

Humming in that deep voice he had adopted, Talos waved away the offered joint, leaning his head against the brick wall behind him, faintly hearing the door open. So soft that Issac surely wouldn't notice.

"What does she want us to do?" He questioned, keeping his indifferent tone. No one in the compound was bothered by their work, so neither must he.

"Oh the usual, break 'em in and all that." The brunette shrugged, letting the cigarette rest between his teeth. Talos needed to reveal a bit more than that if Nick wasn't going to do anything himself.

"What if we tried something different this time? Y'know, fuck 'em in the head instead of with guns and shit." He muttered.

Issac gave him a strange look.

"You've never had a problem with it before."

This was going south very fast.

"I just mean, y'know we could test out some other methods, see how it affects the experiments."

"Do you know how much trouble we'd be in if the tests went wrong? You really wanna risk that?"

"Well of course not, I just thought-" Talos struggled to fix this conversation.

"You've been asking so many questions lately, man. I thought you were just going through something, y'know all that shit with your wife, but now it's getting weird." He studied him with a scrutinizing stare. "You aren't...doubting anything right?"

Even as he asked, he dropped his joint, letting it burn out in the snow as he reached not-so-subtly for the pistol he had attached to his hip. Talos gulped, cursing Nick sending him on a mission alone.

"Nah man, I'm just tired is all, don't worry about it." He raised his shoulders, eyeing his hand warily. Issac narrowed his eyes, his hangover from the night before still apparent.

There was a moment of silence, no one moved, no one spoke, and Talos didn't dare breath, the two just watched each other, pupils shifting.

The moment ended when Issac pulled his gun, only to find himself disarmed a second later, his hand now broken and his 'friend' trapping him in a chokehold. Talos finally let out a breath, the precipitation clouding around his enemies head.

"Sorry mate, but we can't have that now can we?" And he snapped his neck with a jerk, catching the body already in his arms.

Dragging the 160lb man around the corner and to the dumpster, he hid him from plain sight. Rummaging for his I.D and all other identifications, he shoved them in his pocket and tossed some trash bags over his body, wiping his hands of death on his jeans.

The adrenaline completely rid his memory of Nick following them, or the danger he posed to his host's identity.

He was reminded, however, when the barrel of the same gun he had kicked away was pressed to his temple.

"Hands up. I don't take murder lightly." Nick spoke.

"Oh we both know we do what's necessary when needed." Talos said as he did what he was told, smirking at the fact he knew something Nick Fury didn't. He wondered if he should keep his disguise much longer.

"Is something funny?" Nick asked rhetorically.

"Not at all, Fury." He shrugged, glancing to the side and seeing Nick narrow his eyes with a scowl.

Suddenly the biting metal was removed from his skull, but his relief was short lived as a blinding pain erupted from his calf, causing him to fall to his knees.

"Shit!" He cried, grasping the wound and watching the man now above him. "What the Hell Fury?!" He could feel the skin around the wound burn and shift - as well as the blood seeping into the snow - his green skin revealing itself to the shocked Nick Fury.

"Talos?" He exclaimed, kneeling down beside him after dropping the gun.

"Who else, you lunatic?!" Talos huffed, tearing a piece of his shirt to better compress his wound.

"How was I supposed to know?" He muttered back, placing a hand on his back and the other on his leg, assessing the damage as he helped Talos tie the strip of fabric.

"You're the damn spy here! You read into everything,"

"Well clearly you've been getting better."

Hissing as pressure was applied, Talos grasped the director's arm, sighing as he sat in the shadows. Fury sat with him, thinking of a way to get out of here inconspicuously. It'd be a bit difficult, but he may be able to manage.

"Can you stand?" Fury asked quietly, aware that someone could walk by any second. Talos let out a hard breath and nodded, using the wall to help him while Fury held his other arm. Taking a moment to shift into one of the men he and Issac had passed by earlier, he made sure the man's coat swept over his leg to hide the oozing blood.

Limping to the end of the alley, Talos watched him look down either side of the street before deeming it safe enough to come out. Helping him walk to the car, it took everything for Talos to walk like a half-normal human. Albeit a possibly drunk one.

He was sitting in the front seat of Nick's Impala SS, observing his friend drive from out of the corner of his eye.

"So," he edged, a question for information. However it was parried with,

"So..."

Alright, he'd just have to start then.

"There's a shipment coming in soon, within the week most likely. Drugs and prisoners they'll be experimenting on. I could get you the passcodes, maybe go in myself." Talos informed him, watching the road as they drove.

"Are you sure you'll be up for that? You just got shot for fucks sake." Fury quizzed.

"You shot me. And I'm well aware." He gave him a side-glance. Nick grumbled in response.

"Well that was quite the disguise, Talos." He managed to murmur.

"Wasn't that the point?" He shot back. "Anyways, I'll give you more of what I've learned, I have a few data sticks in my pocket...er, somewhere." Talos looked down at his current disguise, shrugging it off. "Back to the diner, what were you doing there?"

"We'd been tipped off that something may be going down, and due to surveillance I need Novak, you, would be at the diner today. I was planning on calling in your mission today anyways. If at least for just a check up."

Talos accepted the answer, any fight soon leaving him. Resting his left hand on the console and resting his eyes, he peered down when a weight was placed over his skin. Covering his knuckles was the hand of the man beside them, a light touch, but a reassurance all the same. His heart beat just that much faster, but he took the chance. Before Nick could even consider pulling away, he turned his hand, trapping his fingers between his own.

A surprised noise came from the director's throat, but Talos just smiled, closing his eyes with his temple on the windows glass.

And together they drove home.

~ Bonus ~

Cleaning the wound and nursing it properly, Nick then carried the now half-conscious man to his room he often stayed in when working with S.H.I.E.L.D.

Laying the Skrull down and pulling the covers to his chin, Talos shifted on the mattress, sighing once he got comfortable.

The fearsome Nick Fury couldn't help but smile at him, his markings, his ears, and he could just imagine his beautiful black eyes glittering under the light.

Unable to resist himself any longer, he kneeled down and pressed his lips softly against his forehead, quickly feeling heat rush up his skin at the realization of what he'd done.

Quietly wishing his...friend goodnight, he left the small apartment and locked the door behind him.

Maybe friend wasn't the right word anymore...

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

With Eyes to See and Ears to Hear - Chapter 3

'Hot Chocolate' - Alternate used - October 3rd prompt. The boys meet up for their second date, and it’s a little sweeter than they expected.

CW: accessibilty concerns, implied possibility of smut.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below the KR! (Backposting, I know, I suck, I'm sorry-)

I found myself humming tunelessly as I loitered outside Matt’s office, passively gazing in the general direction of my cell, eyes unfocused, heart fluttering. I didn’t spend a great deal of time in Hell’s Kitchen; every Avenger had heard the stories of the masked vigilante that prowled the area and didn’t take kindly to our meddling, tracking us over incredible distances on the darkest of nights. Even being here in the daytime felt... Uncomfortable. My eyes scanned the rooftops surreptitiously, looking for tell-tale horns or a blur of movement,  but there was nothing but a few wisps of cloud and a blazing blue sky. Dropping my gaze, I felt a broad grin spread across my face, pulse speeding up as the lawyer nudged his way out of the door opposite me. “Hey.” “Hi,” he replied easily, his own smile tugging at those perfect lips effortlessly. “You’re early... Missed me, huh?” Yes. “Work was slow,” I offered, shrugging as I fell into step beside him. In reality, I’d worked through lunch, eager to make sure I didn’t have to stay late. He simply hummed in response, head cocking. “I’m sure...” His arm brushed mine lightly, and I felt my cheeks begin to colour – until he trembled softly, his suit no match for the cold fall breeze swirling around us. I frowned to myself as he moved a little closer, fighting the urge to put arm around his quivering shoulders. “Chilly?” He nodded a little, and I shifted to press my arm infinitesimally harder against his – if nothing else, testosterone had made me an eternal radiator, and the October wind didn’t bother me in the slightest. “How are you so warm?” he groaned, fingers entwining with mine easily and unreservedly, making the heat in my cheeks intensify. “Uh... I-It’s the hormones,” I stammered, palm tingling at his touch. “Testosterone. Makes me hot as hell.” The double meaning brought a deeper blush to my face, but he simply smiled, leaning closer. “It’s nice.” He shivered again as we reached the limits of Hell’s Kitchen, and I hummed thoughtfully. “Hey... I have an idea,” I murmured, turning off down a side street when a small grin. He hesitated minutely before following when I tugged at his hand, thrown off by the change in route. “Is this... Okay?” There was only a brief pause before he nodded, fingers clenching just a little harder in mine. “Y-yes. I’m just not familiar with th-this route.” “Oh, I was thinking we’d skip the bar... You could do with something a bit warmer,” I purred, pulling him a little closer to me.

Matt smiled as the scent of comforting food and strong coffee washed over us. The small café was a largely undiscovered gem, with half the tables often sitting unoccupied, and it would have been maddening if it weren’t for the fact that it meant I was very rarely disappointed. “I’ve never been here, I don’t think,” Matt murmured under his breath, and I smiled coyly. “Most people haven’t. It’s shockingly unknown for New York. But they never fail to deliver.” I offered a wave to the girl behind the counter, who grinned pointedly towards the man beside me, eliciting a heavy blush. I’d lamented more than once to her sympathetic ear about the state of affairs, always earning gentle reassurance and scoffs of disgust at the behaviour I’d experienced. I paused by the table to let Matt find his seat, a soft frown creasing his face, and I winced. “Is this not... Okay?” He smiled weakly, shaking his head. “It sounds delightful. But... Smaller establishments are less likely to have a braille menu.” Flinching at my oversight, I looked away in panic. “I- Uh... What... Do we leave?” His hesitation was brief but painful before he shook his head, biting his lip with uncharacteristic shyness. “Read to me?” I blinked in surprise, squeezing his fingers gently. “I’d be honoured. ... Food, or just a drink?” “A hot drink sounds good.” “Okay, let’s see...” I inched closer, lowering my voice just a little – not through my own embarrassment, but rather for the sake of the heat tinting his cheeks gently. “We’ve got a few types of coffee... Americano, cappuccino, latte, mocha, macchiato, espresso...” “I’ll pass on the coffee,” he replied, smirking. “I’ll be up all night.” I licked my lips dryly at his casual comment, heart fluttering minutely. More would be the pity... “U-uh...” He pinched his lips together to fight a grin as I stuttered, and my face heated further. “There’s a couple of teas – breakfast, green, elderflower... Hot chocolate...” His smile was gentle and less teasing now, thumb lightly caressing the back of my hand. “It’s perfect hot chocolate weather, don’t you think?” I couldn’t help but grin at that; on my stroll over to his office, I’d been enamoured with the fall weather, the wind brisk and bracing and sunset inching early toward the horizon. “It’s my favourite season.” “Oh? Mine too. Any particular reason?” Humming thoughtfully, I leant onto my hand as I contemplated the question. “The air. It feels... Cleaner, when it starts to turn cool. After a long, stifling summer, it’s a relief.” He offered that gentle smile once more at my answer, and I grinned to myself. “What about you?” “I like the colours.” I blinked in shock, and he chuckled at my silence. “I haven’t always been blind, remember? I can still recall the beautiful fall leaves. The burnt orange and deep red and soft yellow...” He sighed softly, expression distant and dreamy. “I’m not even sure if I remember them right. But it’s beautiful nonetheless.” I watched him quietly for a moment, awestruck and mesmerised by his approach to life. There were things I could remember hearing – but most of them were either unpleasant, or else proved too painful to recollect. But he marvelled in the beauty be could no longer witness, grateful for the memory rather than bitter at the loss.

We decided to wrap up our date early given the chill, and the heat of the hot chocolates kept us warm as he walked me home. Once more, he paused outside my apartment, and I grinned sheepishly, the smoke from our breath mingling in the inches between us. “Another hot chocolate, for the road?” I offered, feet scuffing shyly, and he squeezed my fingers gently. “That sounds lovely... Lead the way.” His feet found the steps a little more confidently this time around, free hand trailing the railing automatically, and I smiled to myself. He’s learning the layout. Turning off at my apartment without prompting, he cocked his head curiously. “It’s this one, right?” With a soft chuckle, I squeezed his hand before releasing it to unlock the door. “It is. Good memory.”

He showed himself to the sofa while I fumbled in the kitchen, humming happily between my teeth. I breathed immediately easier with him in the space, even when he was sat silent and unobtrusive in another room. His presence enveloped me, warm and soothing, and I couldn’t help the grin plastered to my face by the time I returned to him. “It might not be as good as your coffee, but at least it’s not seven in the morning...” His head turned toward me, his own smile just as wide as mine as I slid the mug into his proffered hands. “It smells incredible. Thank you... Now go and take your binder off, Clint.” I rolled my eyes, and he snorted. “I don’t have to see to know you’re being insolent, Barton.” I chuckled in surprise, bending with a subtle wince to place my own drink on the coffee table. “I mean, how much longer are we really going to be hanging out? Not much point wasting the time if it’s only going to be twenty minutes...” I teased, but the pain in my ribs kept me upright, partially begging to lose this fight. He slipped his glasses from his nose as his face turned to mine, those slightly-unfocused mahogany eyes making it even harder to breathe. “I suppose that depends if you’re going to ask me to stay again.” I let out a sharp, shocked laugh, heat rising in my cheeks, looking away from that sightless gaze shyly. “I...” “You slept well last time?” he prompted quietly, and smiled when I hummed my affirmation. “Then I’m here, if you’d like me.” “I’d be grateful,” I admitted softly, eyeing up the sofa that was to be my bed once more. If this becomes a common occurrence, I’ll have to invest in a more comfortable sofa... I don’t know how Nat does it. Seemingly sensing my thoughts, he cocked his head minutely. “You... I’m happy to take the sofa, if you like. Or...” His head ducked shyly, and my heart hammered a little harder at his unspoken thought. “I suppose we could share the bed.” “There’d be no obligation to do anything, of course...” “No, none whatsoever. Simply a matter of comfort for all involved.” We grinned in simultaneous shyness, and he waved a hand. “Shared bed or not... I can hear you rasping, Clint. Go on.”

By the time I returned, he was settled back against the sofa, mug resting on his knee while his free hand loosened his tie a little. I sank beside him, fingers replacing his, and he frowned minutely. “I’m more than capable of-” His words died as I used the fabric to tug him closer, lips finding his hungrily, and he hummed in soft surprise, hand shifting to cup the back of my neck gently. “You should be comfortable, too...” I murmured, drawing back to pull his tie over his head, and he smirked. “Anyone would think you’re just looking to get me into bed, Agent Barton.” “Anyone would think you’re willing, Mr. Murdock.” A soft, contented sound fell from his lips as my mouth found his throat, head tipping back obligingly. “More than willing, I must admit... If only for your comfort, of course...” My fingertips teased his shirt buttons slowly, lips travelling a little further down his exposed jugular. “Well, I only want you to be comfortable, too...” My hand spanned his hip, grasping lightly and tugging him closer. With a soft growl, he tipped my head back up to kiss me gently, teeth pricking my lip lightly. “Maybe we should finish our drinks and head to bed, then... From what I recall, that mattress is pretty comfortable.” My hand reached out without looking, finding the handle of my mug clumsily and downing the beverage in one long drag, scalding my tongue. “Done. I’m done. A-are you done?” He chuckled, sipping demurely from his own drink pointedly, before tipping his head back and grinning. “I’m done.” Removing his mug from his fingers deftly, I slung a leg over his hips, burying my hands in his hair hungrily. “About time,” I muttered before crushing my lips to his, his own fingers finding my waist to pull me flush against him. “To bed?” he breathed between the movements of his mouth in mine, and I nodded, jerky and desperate. A low whine escaped me as he stood, hands finding my thighs to support my weight. “Are you-” “I’ve got this,” he interrupted smoothly, steps confident as he carried me through to the bedroom, lips shifting along my throat. I let out a gentle laugh as he dropped me backwards onto the bed, the sound fading into a groan as he leant over me. “Is this okay?” he whispered, cupping my jaw softly. My heart swelled at his concern, and I hummed, leaning up to kiss him tenderly. “I... I’m not... I’ve never, uh...” Pausing, I felt him still, head cocked in the dim light. “Never been intimate?” he prompted carefully, and I felt my face flame. “No. It’s... Never been right. And I don’t think I’m... Quite there yet. Not all the way. But that doesn’t mean we can’t... Fool around a little,” I added, grinning, and tipped my hips up against his. His resolve cracked and he let out a soft groan, the sound resonating more powerfully in his chest as I began to unbutton his shirt, fingers trembling minutely. “You’re sure this is okay?” he breathed, and I hummed encouragingly, pushing the fabric from his shoulders and rolling to pin him beneath me in one fluid motion. “Very,” I affirmed, trailing soft kisses down his skin slowly, eliciting a subtle shiver. His hips twitched minutely as I found his belt, hands catching my wrists. “Clint... Don’t push yourself further than you’re willing to go,” he murmured, releasing me gently. I pressed my lips to the thin line of hair above his belt, and he let out a soft, shaky sigh. “I know.”

By the time he was clad only in his boxers, he was shivering lightly in the October air, the apartment’s heating system just a little too outdated to reach the optimal temperature. I tugged him higher up the bed, pulling back the sheets that were almost certainly too thin to keep him warm. “Lucky I’ll be with you, hm? We wouldn’t want you catching a chill…” He shivered again, hands stuttering nervously over my sides. “… Tell me what you want, Clint.” I swallowed dryly, letting out a soft, slow exhale. “I… Take my jeans off?” Gentle lips for my throat once more, head tipping back as I sighed contentedly, only the faintest of butterflies flickering in my abdomen, warring with affection and arousal when his fingers found my fly. He was respectful and restrained as he eased the fabric down, his skin only brushing mine midway down my calf and sending sparks along my nerves. I couldn’t help but chuckle as pulled me back close, the pair of us shivering, through for different reasons. “Anything else? You’re under no obligation,” he added, cupping my jaw to kiss me sweetly. I made a soft sound of contentment against his lips, arms snaking around his neck to hold him closer, hyperaware of my chest brushing his through the thin weave of my shirt. He can’t see me. But he can still feel me. Though won’t he feel me if we spend the night like this, anyway? “You won’t… Touch me?” I prompted quietly, voice cracking minutely and drawing a blush to my cheeks. His other hand found the other side of my face, pressing his forehead to mine. “Never, without your express and enthusiastic request – not that you’re ever required to give it. I don’t ever want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” I smiled to myself, kissing him softly. “I believe you.” His fingertips skimmed my sides lightly, waiting until I nodded against him to slide the loose t-shirt up my ribs, the muscles in my arms tense and nervous as I raised them obligingly. I covered myself instinctively, but his hand simply caressed my hipbone, light and comforting, until I slowly relaxed under his touch, arms finding his neck once more and pulling myself back flush to his body. “You’re so hot,” he murmured, and I stiffened, wincing, before he brushed a hand through my hair in a panic. “I- No, I mean… Physically. Literally. You really are like a radiator. It’s nice.” I relaxed once more, chuckling at his fumbling, pressing my lips to his. “I’m glad I can be of service…” His hands on me were quickly unravelling my consciousness, thumbs brushing over my hipbones until I let out a soft hum. “That’s nice,” I admitted, sighing softly. He grinned in the dim light, touching a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Get some sleep, Clint. You definitely deserve it.” “But you’re mostly naked,” I protested weakly, eyes closing of their own volition. “I… Wanted to…” Distantly, I was aware of my words trailing off, slipping into a comfortable stupor as he chuckled, arms wrapping around me to hold me closer, lips brushing my forehead. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

@flufftober

[niall-ate-mynamee]

Please do one Zianourry superhero AU where Niall is the damsel in distress and the other boys are superheroes! Thank you!

note: thank you so so much for the prompt, anon, and im so sorry it’s taken me a while to get to it! i’ve been having writers block for the last few days, but i’ve finally got around to this one!

it’ll be like 2, possibly 3, chapters, depending if i can get it finished in the next chapter, but i really hope you like it! i hope it’s not too bad, and it’s an enjoyable read hahaha! let me know what you think! :)

PART ONE

Everyone knew of “The Lads”. The group of four lads who were always there whenever somebody was in trouble. They were the superheroes of the somewhat small town. Nobody knew their real identities; their names, their faces, their ages, but they all loved them. People had spent the last couple years trying to work out who they were, but they simply couldn’t. They kept their real lives separate.

Niall Horan, a young 16 year old boy, was possibly their biggest fan. Having grown up reading comics and watching superhero shows, he felt he knew them on a level nobody else did. He read through every story in newspapers and online about The Lads, and he dreamed of one day meeting them and becoming one of them. He knew, deep down, that would always remain a dream, but that wouldn’t deter him.

The 16 year old had no idea how wrong he was about to be…

•••

Niall wasn’t what you would call “popular” around the town. He was constantly being beaten, screamed at, had things thrown on him, shoved aside. There was this one time where he was pushed so violently into the road, that a car had to quickly swerve out the way to avoid hitting him, and guess who got screamed at by the driver? Niall. He, who was the innocent, always got the blame for the bullies actions. Even by his own parents.

He was neglected by his family. He was lucky if he got a dinner that wasn’t scraps. He was lucky if he was able to have a somewhat warm shower. He was lucky if the water he was given wasn’t from the washing up bowl. He was simply lucky. That’s what he told himself, anyway. He was always lucky. He could be living on the streets, but he still had a roof over his head. Like, yeah, it’s not the greatest of lives, but he couldn’t complain…at least, not anymore.

That was until that fateful day. It was a chilly evening in autumn, and he had been sent to the shops by his father for more milk. He didn’t have a coat, so he wore his favourite cardigan in the hopes it would keep him warm enough to not suffer the 10 minute walk to the shop and back. But, it wasn’t just the cold he was nervous about. The street he had to walk down to get to his destination was home to his biggest bullies. Roderick and Frederick. Twin brothers 3 months his senior.

They ruled the roost around this part of town. Nobody messed with them. Nobody looked at them. They had 2 other boys in their group, Danny and Charles. They were the four biggest pains in Niall’s ass. Literally and figuratively. They weren’t afraid to leave marks on their victims, because Roderick and Frederick’s father was a police officer, and their mother a lawyer, so they were always safe.

Their father had always defended them, even going as far as to shout and scream at Niall even when he was beaten and bloody on the concrete. He just couldn’t catch a break. He knew Roderick, Frederick, Danny and Charles were anxious when it came to The Lads. They had nearly been caught by the heroes once, when they were pushing Niall around, but had managed to escape by running away before they were seen, and Niall could’ve smirked at the memory.

That was the only time Niall had seen The Lads close. They didn’t stop, they didn’t look at Niall, they didn’t even give him a passing glance, but he still was close enough he could’ve touched them. That was when his “crush” had grown. To live in a town with superheroes patrolling the streets was just incredible, and he was about to realise just how incredible it really was.

As he began his way down that particular street, he could already hear the laughter from the bullies. He hugged his cardigan tighter, and kept his head down, eyes on the ground, praying they’ll let him be this time.

No such luck.

“Oi! Bitch! What’re you doing here?!” Yelled the voice of Roderick, but Niall kept silent. He didn’t want any trouble. However, it seemed that trouble wanted him, because next thing he knew, he was shoved from behind and the concrete was getting impossibly closer to his face before he felt the air knocked out of him.

He was lying, face down, on the cold ground. He didn’t move, he knew the consequences if he did. “You answer when you’re asked a question, you dick!” Frederick growled, kicking Niall’s side, before flipping him over so he was on his back, “What’s wrong with you, huh? We’ve told you to stay away from our street, so why are you here?!”

“I-I had to g-get some milk…” Niall stuttered out, anxiously looking around for an escape. “P-please, I don’t want any trouble,” He practically whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

The bullies just laughed and continued kicking him. This went on for what felt like hours before Niall was startled by the dizziness he began feeling after a vicious kick to the head. He cried out in pain, curling up into himself tighter than ever before. He wept silently, hoping they would finish and leave him alone very quickly.

It seemed his prayers worked, for barely a minute later, the blows stopped and the cruel sneers silenced. Niall didn’t dare move, though, he didn’t know if it was a trick, so he stayed completely still. Until he heard them.

“And what miserable excuses have you boys got for hurting a young boy like that?” It couldn’t be, Niall thought, I’m not that lucky.

“S-sirs, I-I am sor-“ He heard Roderick stutter helplessly, and if Niall wasn’t in pain and shock, he would’ve laughed.

“We don’t want your excuses, boy, we want the truth. What gives you boys the right to abuse this lad? To beat him so cruelly and so viciously that he can barely move?”

This time, Danny spoke, “E-everyone does it, s-sirs…we’re n-not the only o-ones,” He tried to explain, and when Niall lifted his head slightly, he was shocked to find his heroes, THE heroes, standing right in front of him. And, they didn’t look happy.

“You are cruel, and nasty. We will be talking to your parents about this. How dare you think this is acceptable! Get outta here, now, before we do something we’ll regret,”

Niall heard the hurried footsteps and breathed out a sigh of relief. They were gone, for now, so he could breathe again. “Are you alright, love?” Came a soft voice from above him, and he froze again, remembering who rescued him. When he looked up, he saw them. Properly. Clearly. Like angels from the sky.

“H-hi,” He squeaked, and blushed. He cursed himself, but couldn’t help but feel warm inside when The Lads chuckled fondly.

“Hi!” They chirped back, and Niall could see the way their eyes crinkled with grins behind their masks. “Can you stand, sweetheart? Where do you hurt?” One of them asked, and now two of them were crouched in front of him.

With help from two of The Lads, Niall was eventually on his feet, albeit very unsteadily. The Lads stayed close to him, the two who helped him off the ground were holding his arms gently, keeping him upright. He could feel his face flush.

“T-tanks,” He whispered, his Irish accent leaping out in his pain, “‘m Niall,” He said, smiling shyly at his heroes.

“Hiya, Niall, I’m Lou, this is Li, this is Zee, and that is H, or Haz, whichever you prefer,” The one holding onto his left arm said, pointing at each lad as he introduced them. Li was on his right, and Zee and Haz were standing in front, “We’re sorry it took us this long to get to you, we were caught up and didn’t get the signal until a few minutes ago,” Lou explained.

“I-it’s okay…it was nothing…I’m used to it,” Niall said, resignedly, sighing as he looked down. It was silent for a moment before Haz spoke.

“Would you mind if we took you back to our place? We can patch you up and make sure you’re okay,”

Niall’s heart could beat out of his chest right now. Feeling stupid, he nodded shakily, as Lou told him to hold on tight and before he knew it, he was in the air, gripping tightly to his saviour. Was his dream actually coming true?

note: sorry if it’s awful, im about to start work and haven’t proof read it! hope you like it, anon, and i’ll work on part two as soon as i can! <3

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 583, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character

WORDS: 1196

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

Well, it’s pneumonia. Yeah, that’s right- I have pneumonia. As Baby Tommy would say, ‘yay yay’ (not)

“Go have fun, Elizabeth!” I urged my daughter, watching with fond eyes as she skipped off to her ballet class. “Your father or I will be here to pick you up again!”

“Okay mommy!” she called out as she disappeared into her classroom, leaving me to retreat back out to where Peter and the babies were parked out in the parking lot.

“Sush an adorable child! She really does take after her mommy!”

I smiled, nodding my thanks over towards a mother waiting over in the coffee corner for her child to get out of class.

“She gets that from her father!” I confessed with a sweet giggle before scurrying out the door and over to my husband’s Doom Buggy 3.0. “Hihi my love. Hihi sweet babies.”

“Mommy, mesies wantsies nibbles?” Baby Tommy meeped out just then, kicking his little baby feet as he chewed at her hand. “Peasies?”

Peter and I both exchanged looks and her opened his mouth to answer him when-

“I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE AHHHHHH”

I took my cell phone out from my bra and answered it, “Hihi Isabelle! What’s going on?”

“Hello, is this Mary Claire Ratajczyk?”

“It is yes.” A furrow formed in my brow as a knot grew in my stomach. “Now, who are you and why are you using my daughter’s cell phone?”

Peter perked up at the worried tone in my voice, settling his hand onto my knee and letting out a soft hum.

“My name is Officer Harvery- there was an incident with an attempted burglar at your house.”

“Peter-” I whimpered, throwing my cell phone at him before tearing off into the dance studio to collect Elizabeth.

“I’m so terribly sorry, but I need to collect Elizabeth,” I announced, calling my daughter over to me, where she quickly grabbed her duffle bag and exchanged her ballet slippers for trainers before the both of us ran back out again. “My love, drive.”

Peter peeled out of the parking lot and quickly hopped onto the freeway, the tension in the air thick as Peter gripped at the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“Jesus fuck-” Peter swore at he parked catty corner to the corner, narrowly avoiding ramming into a haphazardly parked police cruiser. “Sweetheart, you go on up- Bitty and I will get the babies.”

I simply just tore inside, finding Isabelle having her hands taped up by a paramedic and Katie hugging Jing in tight to her as she cowered behind the family nanny.

“Mommy!” shouted Katie, rushing over to wrap her trembling arms tight around my waist.“Mo stór,” I murmured as I welcomed her embrace. “What happened?”

“Well you see ma’am-”

“Was I talking to you?” My voice went chilly and soft with a moment’s notice. “No? Then shut up.”

The police officer looked at me with something akin to fear as I turned to Isabelle.

“Baby Noah’s father broke in, possibly hoping to kidnap the little boy,” she told me. “I beat him up some before holding him on the floor and Katie called 9-1-1. Those martial art classes were a good investment.”

“Is there a reason as to why the security feature wasn’t on?” I asked her softly as Peter and Elizabeth both came in, my big beefy soulmate wearing the triplets on his chest and Elizabeth carrying Baby Eve on a hip and Baby Tommy and Baby Noah toddling closely behind her, Baby Tommy toting Elle in his chubby little man arm.

“I didn’t think to turn it on,” Isabelle confessed sheepishly, thanking the paramedic with a brisk nod of her head. “Besides, you and Peter were to be gone for two hours tops. I also really wanted to finish that book that I stole from your office, and I knew that I probably wouldn’t go to sleep until you all have returned.”

“I can activate the security cameras and make a copy for you,” Peter offered, handing the babies over to Isabelle and I while he and Katie both led two of the policemen into his office.

Wah… wah… wah… whimpered Baby Jojo before erupting into a sudden WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH… howled Baby Mattie and Baby Teddy, the three babies screaming their heads off as the policewoman nearby jumped three feet into the air at the sudden loud commotion.

“Sorry, they’re teething!” I explained, offering Baby Mattie and Baby Jojo my curls to chew on, cooing at the two babies in my arms.

“I remember when my son was teething. The only thing that would stop his crying would be slices of frozen cucumbers. He would just chew away, happy as a little chickpea.”

“Frozen cucumber? Huh, I never heard of that hack before!” I hummed, looking up as the three mean and eleven year old girl reemerged from my husband’s office, one of the men clutching at a DVD in his hands. “My love, can you remember if we have any cucumbers in the freezer?”

“No idea sweetheart,” he answered me, his long hair tossed back and out from his hazel blue eyes in a sensible man bun. “But I also gave them a copy of Sammi’s will and custody paperwork for Baby Noah, just in case any questions come up.”

“Ah, smart thinking, my love!” I told him with another gentle hum, pressing motherly kisses to the temples of the babies in my arms. “And now, can you kindly kick everyone out of the house? I’m exhausted and really need to crash into bed now.”

“Of course sweetheart.” he intercepted the babies from me, where they immediately calmed down once up against his manly chest. “Go upstairs, take a shower, wash your hair, get changed into your jammies. I can handle this.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[anonymousj3ster]

Detective: Chapter 1-Beginnings

"The fire was noticed at around 2:00 AM this morning." The fireman says, gesturing toward the wreckage of what was once an abandoned warehouse. I nod and it down in my notepad. It was an average, chilly February morning. I glance at the destruction. Where there was once an old warehouse was now simply a skeleton of a building. Burnt wood, broken glass, scorch marks on the ground. A classic case of arson. And of course, as one of the youngest, newest detectives in the field, I was dragged out of bed at 4:30 this morning along with Detective Rochen to deal with this, instead of sleeping in like everyone else does on a Saturday morning. I sigh and brush my dark brown bangs out of my face. "Any suspects?" I ask, edging a bit closer to the carnage.

"None." The fireman says, shaking his head. "It's been a while since anything like this happened." I nod along absently, walking slowly through the destruction, narrowly avoiding stepping on broken glass from windows. "Be careful." The fireman says, gesturing around. "There might be some live wires around." I freeze, eyeing the ground warily. "You haven't found anything here? Any evidence?" I ask both Rochen and the fireman- Brad, I think his name was?

"Nothing."

I pace carefully around, brown eyes flicking over every piece of wreckage for something useful, like a crow in search of shiny objects. I hear Rochen's footsteps padding softly behind me.

"Find anything yet?" He mumbled. I shake my head mutely, eyes still skimming the ground. They widen and I stop suddenly, staring at what I had almost stepped on. A live wire, writhing and sparking. Rochen catches up to me and stares at it. "Cool." He mutters, opening his water bottle to take a swig, only to drop it-

"No!" I gasp.

-right on the wire. Water pours onto the wire and to the wood around it. We both stare incredulously at the wire, then at each other with twin expressions of 'oh shit' before everything bursts into flame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stalk out of the car, pinching the ends of my hair as it starts smoking again.

"I'm really sorry Rebecca-" Rochen starts to blurt from behind me.

"It's fine." I say briskly, pushing open the doors to the police department that was sadly where I worked. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, before trudging to my boss's office. He was already waiting outside the door to his office, eyeing me.

"Rebecca." He says in way of greeting, opening the door to let me in. I walk in, hearing him do the same and shut the door behind him. I frown a little.

"Is Detective Rochen not joining us?" I ask as I sit down in a worn leather chair in front of his desk, confused. After all, it was Rochen who had gotten water on that wire, not me. My eyes rove over the room. It was annoyingly neat, the kind of organized that made me jealous. Books categorized by color sat on dark shelves, a few knick-knacks scattered tastefully around, awards hung neatly on the pale blue walls. It made my cubicle look like a preschool classroom after playtime.

"No, Detective Rochen is not joining us in this conversation." Chief Blassó says, settling into the office chair behind his desk. I tense up a little.

"But-"

"This is not about the...incident that happened today. At least, not exactly." He continues. Oh God. Was I being fired?

"As you know, you are the youngest detective here. And you've had a few... problems." He says. I wince. It wasn't that I was bad at my job. Not really, anyways. I was always the one to find the clues first, the first to put two and two together, the first to find the pattern and see where it was going. But actual fieldwork? Something always went wrong. I would get stuck in traffic trying to get to a location, or arrest the wrong person, or make a car burst into flames in a McDonalds parking lot.

"So, I've decided to give you a...harder case. Something even the best of the best can't crack." He announces.

...Huh? I suck at my job, so he's going to make it even harder? I stare blankly as I try to process this.

"Your a smart girl, Rebecca, but...just not the greatest at actually doing things out in the real world." He states kindly. Oh. Oh no. Was he going to give me deskwork? Have me sit in front of a computer for hours, researching and getting headaches from staring at the screen and searching for answers?

"So, I'm giving you a case that is admittedly a bit more...research-ish." He says, but he must see the look on my face because he immediately switches tactics. "But once you think you have the suspect, you'll be back out on the field to catch her!" He adds brightly. I frown a little. 'Her'? Did he already know who the suspect was? But then why give me a case that was already solved?

"It's the case of Eva Logger." He says quickly, shoving a folder I hadn't noticed was on his desk towards me. "I've already sent all the information you need on her to your email, and set up an interview with someone who was close to her." He stands up, practically running for the door.

It takes a moment for me to react.

"Eva...Logger?" I ask slowly, not certain I had heard him correctly. "The serial killer? But...the last detective that was assigned her case..."

"Died, yes. Tragic. But I have faith in you. Now, I have other matters to attend to." He says, before hurrying out the door. I stare as the door slams shut behind him. Yes, the last detective had died. And the one before that. And the one before that. The last 6 detectives who had tried tracking her down were all six feet under. Being assigned her case was like being handed a death sentence. I slowly stand up, shaking a little. But... I couldn't back down, could I? I had failed so many of my other cases. If I turned this down, I could lose my job.And more importantly, I would fail myself, prove to my father that I, that women weren't cut out for this work. So I just grit my teeth and grip the folder Blassó had given me. So that was it, then. I would either be the one to track down this unhinged, incatchable murderer. Or become her next victim.

[babygirlbenji]

I posted 4,521 times in 2022

That's 2,750 more posts than 2021!

2,792 posts created (62%)

1,729 posts reblogged (38%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@neverinadream

@enchantedaniel

@mountstars

@anditwentlikethis

I tagged 536 of my posts in 2022

#f1 - 34 posts

#football - 30 posts

#chelsea fc - 23 posts

#premier league - 23 posts

#england football - 21 posts

#formula 1 - 18 posts

#mason mount - 16 posts

#formula one - 15 posts

#adventures of cat and tara - 14 posts

#f1 2022 - 14 posts

Longest Tag: 102 characters

#how are the fia expecting drivers to perfectly obey track limits when they’re going at 200kph ????????

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

We Miss You - Mason Mount (ft Ben Chilwell)

A/N: she is here, part two to you'll always be in my heart!! this is kinda sucky and lowkey a filler but i'm SUPER excited to write the next part, i still haven't decided if it's going to be a trilogy or a four parter ANYHOO let's get into it

You had been at Liverpool for a little over six months. It had taken you longer than you expected to settle in, especially with your London accent, but you were enjoying life in Liverpool.

The meeting you were in was dragging on far longer than you wanted it to. You’d said your piece about wanting to get footage and videos of the players for their annual surprise visit to the local school, and since then, you’d zoned out for the majority of the meeting, daydreaming about dinner and watching the new true crime series that had been released on Netflix a few days before.

‘Chelsea squad will be arriving on Friday evening, match will be at 3:30pm,’ Jürgen’s statement made your head snap up so hard you almost cricked your neck.

‘Chelsea? I thought we were playing Brighton?’ Klopp exchanged half-amused, half-concerned glances with the coach.

‘No, Y/N, Brighton is next week. Remember?’ You glanced around the room; every pair of eyes was on you. You settled back in your chair, having moved to the edge of your seat in surprise, clearing your throat.

‘Oh, yes, I remember now. Sorry.’ The meeting went back to the topic of Chelsea, talking about tactics and potential lineups.

Without even realising, your mind went back to Stamford Bridge. Summer days spent laughing with Ben and Reece, winter evenings spent sipping hot chocolate in your office talking with Mason while you edited photos and stitched videos together, autumn afternoons spent gazing at the bronzing trees on bus rides to and from away games, your head on Mason’s shoulder as you drifted to sleep…

You realised then how much your heart ached for them. For Chelsea, for your hometown… for Mason.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), you didn’t have much time to ruminate on days gone by, as the meeting adjourned and people started gathering their things, going back to their offices or training grounds.

Walking out into the corridor, you started thinking up excuses that were plausible enough to miss Saturday’s game. You hadn’t seen Mason since your ‘conversation’ at the Bridge, you hadn’t even spoken to him. Ben, Reece and Jorgi had reached out a few times, and you were glad to have stayed in contact with them. As if by magic, your phone pinged with a message.

Chilly: Fancy a drink after the match on Saturday? Picked up a slight injury so can’t play. Looking forward to hopefully seeing you xx

You bit your lip, considering your options. Ben was always fun to hang out with, he was one of your best friends. If you went, you’d have a chance to catch up with someone you’d known for ages and show him the sights of Liverpool. On the other hand, if you did go, he’d probably ask questions about Mason, and you didn’t want to be the one to end up sobbing on his shoulder.

Throwing caution to the wind, you replied:

Sure. I’ll send you my address. Hope injury isn’t too bad xx

He simply sent back a smiley face emoji, making you smile slightly, before pocketing your phone and continuing on your way to your office, sighing as you sat back down in your chair.

*

The day of the match came far too fast for your liking, and you soon found yourself at Anfield, watching the boys warm up. You took photos of them training, videos of them larking about and having fun, trying to laugh along with them, but your nerves were too great to truly enjoy it like you normally did.

You stood on the sidelines, geared up in the bright red Liverpool staff kit, sorting through photos on your camera and deleting bad ones to save space on your memory card. It was then that you realised you hadn’t brought a back up memory card.

‘Boss, I’m just going to head back to my office, I don’t have a back up memory card. I’ll be back ASAP.’ Klopp nodded distractedly, allowing you to sprint into the building, up the stairs and towards your office. Wrenching the door open and flying in to retrieve your memory card box, you closed the door behind you and ran back down the hallway towards the pitch.

As you hurried towards the pitch, you looked down at the memory card to make sure it was a big enough size to accommodate 90 minutes worth of photos. Before you could read it, however, you collided with a firm chest.

‘Oof!’ The sound came out of your mouth automatically, and you looked up to see… ‘Mason!’ you squeaked. His face mirrored your shocked emotions, almost like he wasn’t expecting to see you here.

‘Y/N…’ his voice was quiet, almost pained. Looking into his eyes, you could see he was replaying the last time you spoke.

‘Go, just go.’

The last words he said to you. Not even a goodbye.

‘I, er… what are you doing here?’ he asked. You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Well, I work here,’ you replied coolly. He grimaced at his stupid question.

‘Right, yeah… sorry.’ The awkward pause that followed was almost as painful as the time you last saw each other. ‘So, how’ve you been?’

‘I gotta go, Klopp must be wondering where I am.’ You spoke at the same time, making it even more awkward.

See the full post

275 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

#4

‘gIrLs WaTcH f1 FoR pReTtY dRiVeRs’ bestie have you SEEN these cars??

336 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

#3

Questions & Surprises - Mason Mount

a/n: so i wrote this in lit about an hour on the plane at 36,000ft so if it's rubbish let's blame that x sorry it's so short also stay tuned to the end for the surprise x

What struck Mason from the moment he met you was your confidence. He’ll admit that he was a bit cocky, and assumed that you’d be scared to talk to him, Ben and Reece when your mutual friend introduced you to them, but he was surprised (in a good way) when you immediately struck up a conversation with them. Your conversations spread all the way from football, in which you had a small amount of knowledge, to travel to discussing what you did for your job. 

Your answer was ‘content creation’, and Mason was even more intrigued. So, you spent the rest of the night talking him through everything about being a YouTuber, from planning and scheduling content to analytics (which was your personal favourite thing about being a YouTuber; you loved statistics and demographics). 

As your relationship with Mason grew, so did your following and subscriber count as people figured out who you were and your relationship with him. Your GRWM videos started to include ‘GRWM for match days’ and travel vlogs. Your view counts skyrocketed, with your most popular video being the Champions League win, titled ‘THEY WON!!!😭💙’. The fans absolutely loved your relationship with Mason, seeing how happy you made him and how you supported him. Even when your videos weren’t entirely related to football match days, you still incorporated Mason into the process, and you loved seeing how into it he got. One of his favourite things was to watch you edit, muttering to yourself about ‘how do I go about moving that’ and ‘now I need to detach that audio’, and occasionally muttering swearwords to yourself when you fucked up. 

Your favourite videos to film were Q&A’s and would you rather with Mason. It offered fans a rare glimpse of life into their favourite couple, and it was what you were filming today. 

You and Mason had sat down on the sofa with the camera stood opposite you, house slowly starting to be decorated for Christmas.

‘Ready?’ You asked, about to hit record. 

‘Course babe, I’m always ready!’ His response made you snicker, and you started to record. 

‘What’s up, guys, it’s me Y/N!’ You started with your signature introduction. ‘And I’m here today with my boyfriend, Mason!’ He laughed as you started to cheer quietly. You made a mental note to add a crowd applause sound effect in while you were editing. 

‘Hi guys,’ he said, almost shyly. 

‘Today we are going to be answering some questions you guys asked us over on my Instagram. What do you reckon they’re going to ask us, Mase?’ Mason’s heart fluttered at the nickname you had for him, then he started to laugh. 

‘“When are you getting married?!”’ You both started laughing at that; it was definitely the most asked question, seeing as you guys had been dating for nearly four years. His own family had started asking the same question. Little did they know that Mason had a sneaky plan up his sleeve. 

‘Okay, okay, let’s get into it!’ You pulled out your phone to read the questions. ‘First question: “Mason, what was your first impression of Y/N?”’ Mason cocked his head to think about the question for a moment. 

‘I think what really struck me was your confidence, like a lot of people are very shy when they meet me, not to sound big-headed or anything. But you were so confident and walked right up to us and struck up a conversation, it was really refreshing. And obviously you’re very beautiful.’ You smiled shyly. 

‘Aww, babe, isn’t he a cutie?’ He returned your smile, and the fans would soon see how much adoration he had for you just in that smile. ‘Next question, “Y/N, what’s your dream company to collab with?”. Hmmm, there are so many, and so many amazing brands that I’ve already had the privilege of working with, but I’m gonna have to say National Geographic. I’ve been a Nat Geo fan ever since I can remember, when other kids my age were watching Thomas the Tank Engine, I was watching dinosaur documentaries or scaring myself with documentaries about airplanes crashing.’ You turned to look at Mason, whose face was a mixture of amusement and concern. 

‘You’re weird.’ You shrugged.

‘Indeed, but look where it got me!’ The fans loved these kinds of exchanges between the two of you; full of banter yet also full of love and mutual respect. Yours was a relationship many can only dream of. You made sure you reminded yourself every day of how lucky you were to have a man like him. 

The questions continued for another ten or fifteen minutes, and then you started to close it down.

‘Alright guys, unfortunately that’s all we have time for today! We…’ 

‘Actually, Y/N,’ Mason interrupted you, making you look over at him in confusion. ‘I have one question myself.’ He dug around in his pockets, and your eyes filled with tears when he pulled out a little red box. ‘Will you marry me?’ You looked at him, bewildered and delighted all at once, before looking over at the camera.

‘This isn’t staged, I promise you, are you being serious?’ He nodded, grinning. 

‘Course I’m serious, darlin’! You’re the love of my life and I can’t imagine spending my life without anyone else. So, will you marry me?’ He opened the box, and you saw the prettiest ring you’d ever seen in your entire life. You nodded fiercely, tears spilling over your cheeks as you pulled him in for a hug. 

‘Yes, yes, of course I will!’ You choked out a sob, pulling back from the hug to let him slide the ring onto your finger. It sparkled in the reflection of your studio lights, making you sob again. ‘Oh god, Mase it’s beautiful,’ you mumbled through the tears. 

‘I love you, darling.’ You brought your hands up to his face and gently held it as you kissed him happily, smiling into the kiss. Before it got too heated, you remembered you were on camera, so you pulled apart. Vaguely aware your mascara was probably running down your cheeks, you threw your arm around Mason’s neck. 

‘Okay, now that we’re definitely finished, thanks everyone for watching, I hope you enjoyed this video, see you next time! We’re engaged!’ You showed the camera your ring, before pressing the record button again to stop the recording. You looked over at Mason, who had an incomprehensible expression on his face. ‘How long have you been planning that?’ He shrugged.

‘Since June’s Q&A.’ Your jaw dropped.

‘You’ve been planning it for five months?!’ He grinned. 

‘Wanted to make sure you weren’t expecting it.’ 

‘Well you definitely succeeded in that.’ 

See the full post

346 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

#2

people on twt saying ‘hIs CaReEr Is OvEr BeCaUsE oF hEr’ no. his career is over because of HIS actions and his actions alone. abuse is abuse, doesn’t matter who you are, what your job is or how much you earn.

410 notes - Posted January 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Hottest D.I.L.F - Pierre Gasly

A/N cat finally published a fic after seven months, who cheered !! anyway this is my first pierre fic and i'm lowkey proud of it ??? sry there's not rly much 'dad!pierre' but maybe it could b a series?? if u know what i mean?? anyway let's get into it!!

It really was not very often that Pierre was home. With his hectic schedule, he was away for days, sometimes even weeks. It was very hard for you, especially when you first got together just over five years ago, but even harder now that you had an 18 month old daughter to think about. 

However, there was no doubting Pierre’s devotion to you and little Amélie. Any chance he got to take his girls to a race and show his baby off to his fellow drivers, he took it with both hands. Amélie had come to be a regular in the paddock, and all the drivers loved meeting and interacting with the little girl. 

When Pierre was home, though, it was like everything that had happened in your lives before you met had led to this exact moment. The laughs you shared, the stories you told, the love you had for both each other and the little human you created… it was like something out of a fairytale. Many happy evenings were shared on the balcony in your home near Nice, Amélie fast asleep in her cot with you and Pierre sharing a glass of wine (for him) and a soft drink (for you, as you were still breastfeeding) only a few metres away. 

One such day, during the summer F1 break, your work day had been… less than ideal. You worked at a high-end restaurant as an events co-ordinator, and your customers were infamous for being very difficult and demanding. You’d spent the first half of the day trying to persuade one client to not use one caterer (who was notorious for either poor food quality or just not turning up at all), and the other half of the day trying to persuade a colleague that a collaboration between the two of you would be highly beneficial. Much to your chagrin, neither venture had gone in your favour. 

Fumbling with the keys to your home, you unlocked the door and kicked your heels off, dumping your bag on the small dresser by the front door. You made a mental note to yourself to check your files at the weekend. 

The house was eerily quiet. Normally, when Pierre was home and looking after Amélie, your home would be vibrant with the giggles of a daughter laughing at her father doing some weird shit, or her bouncing away in her bouncer while he played F1 2022 (while stealing glances every few seconds to make sure she was okay). 

Today, though, the halls were silent. No baby giggles, no goofy dad jokes, and definitely no sounds of pixelated Formula 1 cars. 

‘Hello?’ you whispered. You made your way through the hall, before coming across the sweetest scene you had ever witnessed.

Pierre and Amélie were stretched out on the floor, on her baby mat and below her mobiles (of F1 cars, of course), both fast asleep. She was on her back, arms lazily flopped on the floor above her head, while her father was on his side; he probably fell asleep like that to make sure that she fell asleep before he did, as he hated sleeping on his side. 

You whipped your phone out and took a picture of the scene in front of you, before quietly stepping forward and gently knocking Pierre’s foot with your own. 

‘Oi.’ Another nudge with your foot, slightly harder than the last time. ‘Don’t make me mimic Daniel and yell your name obnoxiously loudly.’ The Frenchman finally stirred, looking around blearily to see who had dared wake him from his slumber. You did feel a bit bad, as the season was a few days away from getting underway again, but you wanted to spend some time with your husband before your daughter woke up from her sort-of-planned nap. 

‘Bonjour, amour,’ he mumbled as he got up to wrap his arms around you. ‘Good day?’ You shrugged, relishing his embrace. Your head instinctively rested on his chest and you let out a contented sigh. 

‘Typical rude customers, typical crusty old boss. What else is new?’ Pierre chuckled. He broke apart from the embrace slightly to cup your face with his hands. 

‘Quit. I’ll support you.’ You made a face. 

‘I’m grateful for the offer but you know I like being independent.’ 

‘Go part time at least.’ It was indeed tempting, and you had thought about reducing your hours, but that was a conversation and a decision for another day. Right now, you had a husband to catch up with and dinner to make together. You stood up on your tiptoes to give him a gentle kiss. 

‘I’ll think about it. What do you want for dinner? We’ve got some lasagne leftovers, or I can do a pasta bake with something, or we could order in, or…’ Your sentence was interrupted by your daughter stirring on her floor mat, obviously recognising her mother’s voice. ‘There’s my little star, how are you, Ammy?’ 

As Pierre watched you pick up your baby and hold her close to your chest, his heart swelled with love for his girls. He had known since the moment he met you that you were the one for him, but there were several moments that stuck out to him in which he knew that he was going to spend the rest of your lives together, and one of those moments was six months before he proposed to you, when you had just given birth to Ammy. 

‘Je t’aime, amour,’ he whispered to you. Your eyes met and you shared a sweet smile, before your attention returned to Amélie, who had started fussing. 

‘Bonjour, my little petal, how are you?’ You gently lifted her out of her bouncer and into her chest. She giggled at the attention from her mother, playing with your hair with her tiny fists. ‘Ow, ow, darling, that hurts.’ Though your words could have come across as scolding, your gentle laughs as she figured out the texture and waved your hair around negated the slight pain as she pulled the strands from your scalp. 

Pierre watched, completely transfixed by his two favourite girls. He’d always wanted kids, especially a daughter, but this was a million times better than what he had ever imagined. 

After you had had dinner on the sofa watching a new season of Below Deck, you tucked Amélie into her cot and put her little nightlight on. You said your usual goodnights to her, as you gently kissed her soft baby hair on the top of her head. She smelled of her baby lotion, of vanilla and fresh laundry. It was one of your favourite smells. 

‘Goodnight, my angel, mama and papa love you so much. Sleep tight.’ You closed the door as quietly as you could. 

‘Amour, where are you?’ Pierre’s voice chimed in from your master bedroom. 

‘Just coming, darling, I’m just down the hall,’ your voice softly echoed down the hall. Pierre was always the protective type, especially when you joined him in the paddock, but since you had Amélie, his protectiveness had grown tenfold. If you were just at home, though, it was probably just him being a clingy bastard (not that you really minded). 

You joined him in the huge four-poster bed, snuggling into his side. It was moments like this you missed the most; just you and him, alone from the world and having some time to yourselves. You loved Amélie, of course you did, but every couple needs time just for each other. 

‘Would you prefer it if I was here more?’ Pierre’s question made you sit up and look at him, bemused.

‘What do you mean, babe?’ He shrugged.

See the full post

895 notes - Posted July 31, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[calummss]

Sudden Company | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: people find the unexpected in everything. tommy found that in a 6 year old orphan named maria

words: 1.5k

requested by: @kpopgirlbtssvt

a/n: if you have watched the 2009 horror movie ‘orphan’, that’s what i imagine little maria’s accent to sound like. i also apologise that this isn’t very long and that you had to wait over a month :/ also i don’t like this writing at all. idk what happened

‘Tom,’ Ada’s heels made contact with his high quality office floor. ‘The head of the Grace Shelby Institute said she’d like to meet with you there. I know you're busy,’ she sat down in front of him, crossing her legs and brushing her hair out of her face ‘But it’s important that the owner of the place, which is you, shows up. They said it was important.’

Tommy looked up from his stack of papers that had his attention from the second he woke up. ‘Did they say what it was?’

‘Something about changes for the orphanage and suggesting to build another building because more and more children are being brought to the Institution.’

‘When do they want to meet?’ He took off his glasses and placed them next to his documents.

‘Tomorrow.’ Ada replied. ‘I think we should all go.’

He raised an eyebrow.

‘It would look good if we all came. It’s an institution that we all technically are a part of, and I think it’ll look good on us and build an even more positive appearance.’

‘Sure,’ Tommy stood up and walked straight to the dresser that displayed his whiskey. ‘You do make a point. Besides, it will be the first time in months the Shelbys will be back together.’

So the next day, Tommy, Arthur, John, Polly, Ada, and Michael, took the Bentley’s down south. The weather was mild and the wind l chilly, when the Shelbys and Grays arrived at the Institution they only from departed six months ago.

‘Welcome back, Mr. Shelby. We’re so happy to finally meet you again.’ The head of the orphanage, Mrs. Trent welcomed Thomas Shelby at the double hinged door of the building standing in the Birmingham countryside.

Thomas Shelby entered the recently developed place and followed the woman through the halls that made her heels echo with every step she took.

‘I’m sure you are aware why we wanted to meet with you.’ Mrs. Trent looked back at Thomas Shelby.

‘Yes. I’m informed.’

‘Good.’

A good minute after Tommy had answered that question, Mrs. Trent came to a halt and stood in front of an office door.

‘If you would, Sir.’ She gestured Tommy inside.

Tommy issued the others to walk in first, he made Arthur wait outside of the building in case anything would go wrong. With Thomas Shelby no one was ever sure what direction the business would take.

He stepped inside of the room and took his seat in the middle, awaiting the boring business he had to deal with.

‘As you are aware, Mr. Shelby, your institution has had a very positive impact on the surrounding villages and cities. Though abandoning children is not ideally,’ the abbess said. ‘We are glad that they are bringing their children here and not leaving them for dead on the side of the road.’

Tommy’s eyes stared at the abbess, too bored to take in his surroundings, rather having spent his day doing real work that required his help.

‘But our facility is overflowing with children, ages ranging from newborns to 17 year olds. We simply do not have the space to take in more.’

‘So we’ll build another building.’ Tommy replied sternly, confused why he had to come all the way. Did they think that Thomas Shelby was so cruel as to not build more shelters for children?

‘Yes, Mr. Shelby.’ She replied, sounding embarrassed and keeping her head down, knowing that her cheeks glowed a pale pink.

‘That was it then?’

‘Yes, but we wan-‘ But she was cut off by Arthur who was now standing by the door looking agitated.

‘Tom, I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a child sitting in your car and she won’t come out.’ Arthur fixed his messy hair indicating that he must’ve tried to get the child out by himself but failed as he now stood in front of the car owner.

‘Good heavens, Maria.’ The abbess mumbled to herself.

Tommy stood up, the abbess immediately after the rest of the family did too and they strode towards the entrance of the orphanage to be greeted by a girl no older than 6 sitting in the driver’s seat pretending to drive, small car-like-noises escaping her small lips.

‘Shoo.’ The abbess walked towards the car, clutching her skirt in one hand not to get it dirty by the earthy ground.

The girl turned to face her, her hands not leaving the steering wheel. But Tommy did not step towards her nor say anything. He kept quiet as the girl and abbess bickered in front of him.

‘I’m not a dog.’ The girl said, her cute face looking cross but not cross enough to be intimidated by.

‘Maria, get out of there at once.’ She grabbed her arm and tried pulling her out with all her strength which didn’t look like a lot, leaving the girl seated in the car. ‘Are all you Russians savages?’

Once the girl had finally hopped out of the car, Ada and Polly were struck with shock to see the little girl named Maria be met with a forceful slap to the face, and not a soft one either. Arthur, John, Michael, and Tommy also seemed negatively impacted by the sight.

Maria did not seem to find it painful nor seemed to be mad at the sister, she acted like it was a daily occurrence she had grown used to.

However, Tommy’s face didn’t express the same look as Maria. Instead it showed confusion and anger, with one of his dark eyebrows raised.

The abbess noticed the lot staring. ‘Maria is always up to trouble and never learns.’ Her voice stayed neutral. ‘Discipline is learned through physical punishment rather than emotional understanding.’

Michael shifted uncomfortably, John’s hands found themselves playing with the toothpick, all awaiting Tommy’s opinion like he was the prime minister, standing upon the podium.

‘And you think that’s right?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you have to smack her that hard?’

‘Yes.’

All eyes shifted from Tommy to the abbess, no one daring to say a word.

Tommy chuckled, a smile forming on his lips from amusement rather than happiness. ‘Do you want my brother to slap you, Sister?’ He shrugged towards Arthur who was standing a little behind his left shoulder.

Her face fell to an expression of shock, taken aback by what he said. She tried to look confident but failed, looking terrified, only surrounded by his people and nothing more.

Maria still stood in the same place she was slapped in. Her eyes too darted from person to person, stunned to see the abbess in a state of fear when the roles were normally reversed.

‘I can assure you he has a very firm hand, he’s a boxer even.’ Tommy grabbed the smoking cigarette from his lips. ‘Killed a boy in the ring once, though I do not like to boast about it because he was innocent and well, only a boy.’ Tommy continued, aware that the abbess looked like she wanted nothing more than to run away.

‘The child is coming with me.’ Tommy quickly added before turning around and wanting to walk away, but a small, bossy voice made him turn his back again.

‘You didn’t ask me if I wanted to be with you.’ Maria crossed her arms.

John and Arthur exchanged impressed and amused looks.

Tommy however did not ask the girl, in response only inhaling the hot smoke of his cigarette. Maria glanced multiple times around the group of people before skipping towards Tommy. ‘I’d like to.’

The car ride back home was noisy and quite annoying if Tommy was being honest. Maria asked two questions every 10 seconds, half of which Tommy didn’t even have an answer for. But the girl had manners and sat in the passenger seat safely, only her face hanging halfway out of the car, the wind blowing through her hair and onto her face.

When they arrived at the Arrow house the girl’s eyes went wide.

‘This house is so big.’ She shifted her body forwards wanting to see more. ‘You all live there?’ She turned to Tommy.

‘No, only I do.’

‘Are you rich? Do you have lots of money? I love money.’ The girl sat back and waited for the car to park.

Arthur, who sat in the back seat of the car, met Maria’s rambling with a laugh.

They got out of the car and walked through the door were Mary was awaiting Tommy.

‘This is Mary.’ Tommy pointed at her, her lips forming a smile when her eyes met Maria. ‘Ask her anything you want and you’ll get it.’

That was months ago.

Now, Maria follows Tommy everywhere, unknowingly imitates him and copies his moves, and best of all, clings onto him in meetings which results with her sitting on his lap.

After another month, Tommy Shelby officially adopted Maria, surprising her with a cake where tears began to flow. Maria was instantly loved by everyone in the family and time could only tell what their bond would become in the years awaiting them.

[storiesofsvu]

Her Everything Ch 11

Warnings: Language. Angst. Just..everything really. A/N: We here fam, some of this is taken straight from the one shot, but I embellished a lot more. Also it’s fucking 8 pages long…sorry not sorry

If there was one thing that you absolutely hated it was desk duty, and if there was one thing you hated more than that, it was being sent home by your Captain and on insistence by your fiancé when in your opinion, you could at least handle paperwork. Truthfully, when you did get home you realized how terrible you still felt, how exhausted your body was, and that maybe this was a good idea. You’d had a very small medical issue, an allergic reaction that slightly kicked your ass but you were fine, you’d already taken two weeks off, and a week of desk duty for it.

Now…you were just absolutely bored out of your skull. You’d flipped through the wedding planning already, marking a few pages with post its for Rafael to look over when he had the time, made lunch with enough leftovers for the rest of the week, and watched about three hours of mindless t.v. You were every so thankful when your favourite office gossip texted you to update you on what you were missing, a kidnap case morphing into one of Mom vs. Dad on whether they were okay to withdrawal life support on their basically already brain dead baby. You grimaced at the sound of it, thinking maybe you were better off at home.

When seven p.m. rolled around and Rafael still had yet to reply to your text you figured he was in it for the long run, the least you could do was bring him some dinner, even if he would complain about you being out of the house. Grabbing a container of leftovers you wrapped your coat tighter around you and made your way into the chilly city streets. You passed Jack McCoy as you came off the elevator, nodding a polite hello to him before making it to Barba’s office, not surprised to see Carmen already gone. The brief knock at the door made Rafael turn from the widow, scotch clutched in his hand.

“Carino? What are you doing here? You should be at home.”

“Raf..I’m fine.” You stepped into the office with a roll of your eyes, kissing his cheek gently as you placed the Tupperware on his desk, “Besides, we both know you were going to forget to eat. ‘Manda told me about the case, it’s a tough one.”

“It’s a dumpster fire.” He gruffed, taking a swig of scotch.

“I saw McCoy on my way in, he pressuring you to prosecute?” Rafael simply took another sip of his drink, not meeting your eye. Your hand grasped his free wrist, turning his attention to you, “Hey..what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours?” His eyes met yours and he practically melted at the concern splayed on your face, the warmth of support and love echoing from your eyes to his.”

“My father…”He muttered. Right. He had told you about that pretty early on, “I was selfish to keep him alive. He wasn’t scared of death he was scared of dying, and…Baby Drew..he’s dying everyday.”

“Mi amour.” You stroked his cheek softly, “Don’t drown yourself in guilt from seven years ago, it’s not going to help anyone. Especially you. And certainly not Baby Drew.” Finally he turned his attention fully onto you, a weakened smile on his face.

“I know.” He wrapped an arm around you waist, kissing your forehead as he held you in his embrace, ever so incredibly thankful to have you in his life, not entirely sure what he would do without you. “Go home.” He pecked your lips quickly.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He gestured to the wild mess of papers on his desk, “I’ve got to figure out at least some of this case and that could take hours.”

“Okay.” You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, popping up on your toes to kiss his cheek, “Don’t forget to eat. I love you always.” You were slightly surprised when he tugged you back to him, lips meeting the crown of your head for an extended kiss, hand cupping the back of your hair.

“I’ll love you forever.” He murmured against your skin, giving your lips one last kiss before you gave him a soft smile, leaving the office.

*

You were practically passed out on the couch, Netflix marathon still going on in front of you, it was nearly 1:30 in the morning and you were starting to wonder if you should put out a call for a missing persons. You’d just picked up your phone to text Olivia when you finally heard keys in the door.

“Rafa…there you are…” Your voice trailed off at the sight of your fiancée finally returning to the apartment, “Thought you’d be home hours ago.” His eyes avoided yours as he shrugged off his coat, dropping it to the hook in the entryway while his bag heavily met the floor. Your brows furrowed at the way he barely acknowledged you, quickly moving down they hallway to your room, the sound of scuffling around, a zipper or two being pulled piqued your interest.

You gave a tired sigh, pausing the t.v in front of you, knowing that Rafael had been having a hard time with this case, padding you way to the bedroom. You leant yourself against the doorframe, an instant of shock taking over your face as you saw a suitcase on the bed.

“Rafael.” You began to move into the room, “What are you doing?” He continued to toss things into the suitcase, moving through the room, collecting more than a handful of clothes, your heart rate picking up as he grabbed his phone charger and tablet along with a few other important pieces. He crossed into the bathroom, tossing a handful of toiletries into the bag before your hand strongly grasped his wrist, finally bringing his eyes to yours. “Rafael..what the fuck are you doing?” Your voice wavered slightly, tugging him to you as he tried to pull away.

“I fucked up…” He muttered, his gaze not meeting yours.

“I don’t understand why that means you need to pack a bag? Mi amour, what is going on? You were fine seven hours ago.” Rafael stuttered, trying to pull away from you again, barely daring to meet your eye.

“Baby Drew….” He muttered, his eyes glued to the floor.

“What happened?” After the talk in his office earlier, his very late night out, the smell of scotch on his breath you felt your heart rate pick up, worrying that the stress had made him make a very stupid decision in a bar with someone else. Rafael tossed a few other items into his suitcase before zipping it up, finally looking up at you, the tears ever so clear in his eyes.

“He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t smell, he couldn’t even breath without the machines.”

“Why is everything you’re saying in past tense?” Your stomach flopped, but this time not with the thought of Rafael cheating on you, but something that would land him in one hell of a lot more hot water.

“Mrs Householder couldn’t do it herself. I told her to leave…and I pulled the metaphorical plug.” He felt his heart drop into his stomach at the lightning flash look of disdain that shot across your face before you were able to compose yourself, the look he knew was coming. How could you love someone, how could you see a future, with someone like him, someone who thought letting a baby die was the right move. He’d only been thinking for himself and the baby in the moment, forgetting that he had someone to answer to at home, not just in the courts. “It’s too late for me to ask for forgiveness.” Your heart clenched at the way he moved passed you towards the door without a second glance,

“You could go to prison Rafa!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” He rounded on you, the anger seeping through his voice, “And what?! You and Mami will come out to visit me once a week for the rest of my life?! I highly doubt that. I’ll be tried for murder, you need to disassociate yourself from me. It’s over.”

“Rafa, no!” Tears broke into your eyes, barely able to meet the reddened ones of his. “You can’t mean it…we can work through this. I know you’re going though a lot but this doesn’t need to end…. I love you always.” You choked over the last word, begging him to return the sentiment as he usually would.

“Carino, please.” He begged, “I can’t drag you through this mess. I made it, I need to deal with the consequences…alone. You deserve so much better than me…”

“Raf..you can’t be serious…” You felt the tears burning in the corners of your eyes, daring to fall, your vision nearly blurry.  “I don’t care what happened, I love you…” Rafael took a shaky sigh, his eyes unable to meet yours,

“Y/N. I am serious. I can’t do this anymore.” He dared to meet your reddened eyes for a briefest of  seconds.

“What? No! Rafael! You might not get convicted! Call Rita! She’ll be able to get you out of this, at least be able to get a plea.” Rafael was ashamed to admit it, but he was even more ashamed of what he’d done, the last thing he wanted to do was call one of his oldest friends to get him out of something like this.

“If I don’t end up in jail I’m leaving the city.” He sighed, “I need the ring back.”

“But-“

“Please.” He dared to meet your eyes one last time, hating that he did, feeling the punch to the gut at the absolute anguish in them. He’d never hated himself more than he did in that moment, knowing he was completely breaking your heart.

“After five fucking years I would’ve thought you’d had more decency.” You spat, choking over a sob as you ripped the diamond off your finger, tossing it to the kitchen island before turning back down the hallway, Rafael didn’t deserve to see your tears. As soon as you heard the apartment door close you broke into a fit of tears, collapsing onto the bed, your head in your hands.

Sure, the two of you had had one hell of a year between work and the cases and problems it threw at you, but that seemed ages ago, the past year sandwiched between the tough times and tonight. It was so out of left field you wouldn’t have been able to see it coming with a fucking telescope. Sure, he’d been upset at the office earlier, but this…this was something completely unexpected.

You just couldn’t understand why Rafael wouldn’t let you help him through this. Sure, he was stubborn as hell, especially when it came to his independence, but to instantly give in and run from his problems afterwards was so unlike him. You thought he’d have more fight in him, apparently this case had affected him much more than he had let on, even to you, in the privacy of your home.

By the time you’d managed to finish crying you felt completely deserted, an emptiness in your chest you weren’t sure would ever go away. You’d been alone for so long, unsupported and unloved, you’d learnt how to deal with it, how to take care of yourself, what to do when you were feeling down. Then came Rafael, throwing your life upside down in the best possible way he could. You loved always, and he always said he would love you forever. This wasn’t the way someone who would love you forever would treat you, right?

You gingerly pushed yourself up from the bed, moving to splash some cold water on your face before pouring a hefty glass of scotch. Grabbing your phone you made a quick call to Olivia, asking for a couple more days off, you assured her it was fine to use vacation days considering you’d already been out ‘sick’ for weeks, the paid vacation would help. Figuring you wanted the extra time with Rafael, Olivia quickly agreed, reassuring you to call if you needed anything.

It was only when you didn’t show to his arraignment that she clued in that there was more than what met the eye going on. Not able to get anything out of Rafael she showed up at your apartment, her concern rising at the near empty bottle of wine on the counter and how disheveled you looked.

“You wanna talk about it?” She softly asked as she moved into the apartment, “I thought I’d see you at arraignment.” You gave a weary sigh, crossing your arms as you leaned against the island. The days of crying and tears were over, you were well into the days of resentment and anger, the tears only coming at night as you cried yourself to sleep in an empty and cold bed. To say your emotions were running high was an understatement.

“It’s hard to support someone who doesn’t want your support.”

“Well he can get a little pig headed at times. I’m sure he’d want you at the trial.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, he’ll make bail, be home in a few hours, you guys can talk it out then.” You practically cut her off, knowing that beating around the bush was completely useless.

“Liv, he left me.” Shock took over her face, thoughts scrambling in her brain in an attempt to understand. The two of you always seemed so hopelessly in love, the way you spoke about each other made Olivia a little jealous, wishing she could find a powerful love like that. Not to mention the wedding was only three months away, she could see the garment bag housing your dress thrown over the back of a chair in the living room.

“What?”

“The night he pulled the plug. Came home, packed a bag, told me it was over…asked for the ring back and everything.” Turning slightly you topped up your wine glass, taking a large swig.

“I’m so sorry…” Her hand gave your arm a reassuring squeeze, “Maybe he’s just worried about being convicted?”

“He said if he gets off he’s leaving the city. I’ve tried calling but he never answers, not even to texts, he’s already shut me completely out.”  A shaky sigh escaped your lips as you glanced up at your Captain, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get over him. Rafael was the love of my life…”

“Oh sweetheart..” Olivia stepped towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug, “It’ll take time, and it’s not gonna be easy, but I know you’ll come out on the other side stronger.” You gave a watery muffled thanks against her coat, tears dripping onto the fabric, ever grateful for your Captain.

Just as Olivia had promised, it certainly wasn’t easy. You avoided the trial, at least relieved to hear the verdict came back not guilty, still holding your breath over the entire situation. Though the verdict didn’t give him a change of heart. McCoy approached you in the hall, urging you to try and do something about Rafael handing in his resignation. You simply snorted in response, saying you certainly didn’t have any pull there anymore before stepping into the elevator. The next shift you worked was an overnight, bored as hell in the squad room until after the sun came up, finally getting back to your apartment at 9:00 a.m. You felt your breath catch in your thought at the sight, although all of the big things, furniture and the like were all there you felt another pit in your stomach at the missing nick nacks in the living room. The second bedroom he’d fashioned into a home office was completely emptied out, his side of the closet completely clear, leaving another giant hole in your heart. Just for the sake of it, you tried his phone again, not surprised when it rang six times before cutting off.

He really was gone.

*

The next few weeks at SVU were rough for everyone, there was constant clashing with the new A.D.A, especially from Olivia since he’d been the one to prosecute Barba’s case. Not to mention simply adjusting to someone else handling all of their cases, you weren’t surprised when most of the team gave the cold shoulder to Stone. Not that you cared, he was just doing his job, and you certainly didn’t care that he’d taken on what used to be Rafael’s, the man broke you, so what if someone took his job…especially considering he resigned.

Olivia was defeated, annoyed and frustrated with Stone, with the arguments, the bickering, the not being able to see eye to eye at all. She felt like if she spent another minute in the same room with him she’d end up decking him, so she escaped to the only place he wouldn’t be able to follow her, the women’s washroom. As she leant over the sink, trying to regain her composure, knowing that she had to keep her attitude in line considering she was Captain, she realized the other washroom occupant was vomiting, a small cough echoing from the stall before the flush. When it was you that unlocked the door, she met your gaze through the mirror,

“Please don’t tell me I’m gonna have to send you home with the flu, we’re already so short staffed.” Carisi was undercover, Fin was out sick, things weren’t exactly all rosy around the precinct.

“It’s not the flu..” You grumbled, moving to the sink to rinse your mouth before washing your hands.

“You hit the wine too hard because of Barba?” You crossed your arms over your chest, the side of your hip leaning against the sink.

“It certainly has something to do with Rafael..” Liv’s brows furrowed, taking in the glassy look of your eyes, realizing it wasn’t just from the puking. You took a shaky breath before meeting her gaze, she was gonna find out eventually, may as well be now. “I’m pregnant…”

“Oh..God..” She could barely comprehend what you must be going through at the moment.

“That..medical issue that had me out last month? My doctor swapped my IUD for a copper one, I had a bad reaction to it and they were waiting a month before putting the new one in to make sure everything was okay. It’s standard procedure to take a pregnancy test before getting one put in…we must’ve…forgotten. I..feel so fucking stupid.”

“Hey..hey..don’t..” Olivia’s hand squeezed at your shoulder, her voice soft with worry and support.

“I’m so scared Liv…I don’t know if I can do this alone…”’ You quickly swiped at the tear that manage to escape, streaming down your cheek. “You and Amanda, you’re so fucking brave, strong. I don’t have much fight left in me after…everything.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She pulled you into a hug, “You are the farthest thing from alone, you hear me? Everyone here has your back, we’re a family, you know that. Hell, Carisi will be more than excited about another baby in the squad.” You gave a watery laugh at that, “If…that’s what you want. This is your choice, remember?”

“I know..” You gave her a weak smile, “But I’ve always wanted kids, even if it is in a situation like this. I mean..what’re the chances I’ll trust someone else after all this? I just…wish I had a way to tell him..he deserves to know at the very least, right?”

“He..didn’t leave a forwarding address or anything?” Olivia was shocked at that, sure, he hadn’t left her with anything, but she thought at least the super would have something for any delayed mail.

“No.” You shook your head, “I’ve tried everything. His phone’s different, email’s all redirected to spam, any social media he had taken down, he’s cut himself off from the world completely.”

“What about his Mom?” Your head shot up to Liv’s,

“God I didn’t even think of that. Fuck, I’m stupid, he must’ve left her with something!”

“First..stop calling yourself stupid. You’re dealing with a hell of a lot right now, okay.” You gave her a weak nod, “Second…take the rest of the day off, go talk to Lucia, see if she can contact him.”

“Okay.” Olivia gave you a soft hug before she let you leave the bathroom.

“And you calll if you need anything. I can redirect any pregnancy or birth questions to Rollins. We’ve got your back, okay?”

“Thanks Liv.”

*

Knowing Lucia would still be at the school until the evening, you headed home first, giving your exhausted body exactly what it needed, sleep. You managed to get some food down before jumping on the train to the Bronx, your heart nearly hammering in your chest. You hadn’t spoken to Lucia since before everything blew up, and you weren’t sure what Rafael had told her, if anything, you only prayed you weren’t to blame in her opinion.

“Y/N! Thank God, I’ve been waiting for one of you to call for weeks.”

“Sorry Lucia…” You practically mumbled as she ushered you into her apartment, guiding you to the couch while she busied herself in the kitchen to grab some snacks and tea.

“I’m so glad you’re here! How’s Rafi? I can’t believe he’s enough of an idiot to risk going to prison, you tell him I need him to call me, okay? His own mother shouldn’t have to find out from the news that her son’s being tried in court. What?” She stopped suddenly, looking across the breakfast bar as she took in the sorrow on your face.

“Lucia…he’s gone..he left two days after the verdict came back.”

It appeared that Rafael Barba had decided to cut himself from everyone he knew and the entire world as he knew it. There was no plan to come back. He was done, completely moved on already.

“What?” Her attention on the food was abandoned, quickly moving to your side on the couch.

“I’ve been trying to contact him for weeks, everything’s shut off or changed. You were my last hope, that he left you with some kind of information, I really need to talk to him.” As she grasped at your hands her fingers felt the absence of the ring, her breath catching in her throat.

“Did that son of a bitch leave you too?” You couldn’t help the watery laugh at how quickly Lucia was to turn to your side, giving her a small nod as the tears began to slowly fall down your face. God how you misssed having your Mother around, she always knew what to do, she would’ve been a world of help right now. At least…so far…you had Lucia. “He’s an idiot for that, I hope you know.” She wrapped an arm around you, letting you softly cry into her shoulder, “You were the greatest thing that ever happened to him, and if he’s let you go, that’s the greatest mistake he’s ever going to make in his entire life. I’m so sorry…he didn’t give me anything. You know if he did I’d give it to you in an instant.” Your head nodded agaisnt her shoulder.

“I know.” You sniffled, wiping away at a few tears, “I’m just..scared..” You lifted your head, feeling another wave of nausea surging through you for an entirely different reason, “I don’t have any family, I’m alone in this. You and Raf..you were all I had..”

“Sweetheart just because my son was a coward and abandoned you doesn’t mean I’ll do the same, you have my support whenever you need it.”

“Thank you..”You wrung your hands together, suddenly finding them more interesting than anything else in the room, “Uhm..do you remember the day you asked if I was going to give you grand babies…” You dared to meet her eye.

“Yes. It was-“ Her eyes widened in realization, “Oh…oh..are you?”

“Yeah…”

“Rafael doesn’t know?”

“I did everything I could. I didn’t find out until after he was gone, believe me…if I could track him down he would know.”

“Don’t hate yourself for this. And you don’t need to be scared. I’ll be there for you every step of the way, if my grandbaby’s coming into the world I’m going to be a part of its life.” She abruptly stopped, taking a breath, “If that’s what you want. I may not support..termination…but this is a sticky situation, and I understand if that’s the choice you want to take.” Tears in your eyes you shook your head,

“I really don’t. I want to have this baby, I’m just not sure I can do it without Rafael.”

“Screw him. You don’t need him okay?” She wiped a tear off your cheek, “You’ve got me, you’ve got the support of your friends. From my knowledge you’re not the first single mom in that squad, you’re a strong, independent, powerful woman Y/N. Motherhood may be daunting, but I know you’re going to be incredible at it.”

“Thank you.” Lucia wrapped you in a hug, soothing you, reminding you that this would blow over, that everything would be okay.

You felt a small weight lift off you, you knew you had one hell of a road ahead of you, but at least you knew you’d have support, that Lucia was more than willing to be an incredible Abuelita to your child. True to her word, she made sure she was at as many doctor’s appointments as possible, texting you homemade remedies for the morning sickness, the back pain and the like, making sure you were as comfortable as you could be. When you found out the sex, you took her to lunch, asking if she was okay with you using the name Catalina, in honour of her mother. It was with happy tears in her eyes that she whole heartedly agreed, more than happy to have her legacy live on in another generation.

As tough as you knew things would be over the next couple of years, you were ever thankful for the support from the literal only ‘family’ you had and your squad. Rollins gave you as much insight as she could to the newborn stage, Carisi naturally babbled on about his various sisters and their kids, half of which you found yourself rolling your eyes at. You were ever thankful at the amount of hand me downs you were able to get from them, old toys, clothes, bassinets and the like. Before you knew it, the second bedroom in your apartment was exactly that, set up for the arrival of your baby girl

[mountswhore]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 — mason mount

summary: chelsea’s massage therapist, and mason’s long term crush, had moved to a different club. but after reuniting at nationals, you realise just how much you missed him.

notes: requests are open, just ask! this is so fucking long, please read when you have time.

“I will take care of you.” + “I could never get tired of you.”

for @masterclassbaby

“she’s pretty,” mason hummed, chin in the palm of his hands and eyes gazing at you. chelsea’s newest sports massage therapist. he watched as you conversed with a few of the injured teammates, the boys on either side of him laughing at his blushed cheeks.

“mounty’s in love.” chilly sang, pushing mason gently. the three of them were laying on the turf, waiting for their trainer to arrive and being introduced to the pretty lady who would be massaging their injured limbs from now on. “go on, make a move before kai does. you know he will.”

“i’m not making any moves,” mason huffed and pushed himself to his feet, ben following suit and pulling a ball towards him with his foot, “can i appreciate her beauty without wanting to make a move?” ben rolled his eyes at his friend, eyes now focused on the ball for the first time in twenty minutes.

“so you’re just going to stare at her, like a creep.” ben stated, stopping the ball with the side of his foot and kicked it back to mason. “noted.” mason was barely focused, looking over to you every time you laughed or your voice echoed. he’d laugh with you, crinkling his nose when you did, it was sickening.

ben had kicked the ball to mason’s feet, where is stilled and hadn’t even broken his stare. he had ‘regained control of the ball’ by kicking mason’s ankles, which had definitely caught his attention and caused him to hiss in pain. “you fucker, what did you do that for?”

“i just gave you a reason to talk to her, you clown.” ben revealed sarcastically, mason limping over to you as you held a look of concern.

“everything okay, mount?” you politely asked, the slight touch on his back as well as hearing his name fall from your mouth was sending him into a frenzy. he just nodded, and followed you inside to where your new office resided. “what the hell happened? last time i looked, you were kicking a ball about with chilly.”

your voice was as silky as he’d imagined. “yeah, he’s a bit slow. so he thought kicking me in the ankles would be a wise idea.” you couldn’t help but giggle at the man’s joke, avoiding his gaze as you were sure to blush. this man was attractive, but it was your first day, you had to remain professional.

“i better get to work,” you huffed, rubbing some hand sanitiser onto your hands and pulling his socks down. “we can’t have chelsea’s best player injured a few days before the game,” you’d finally met eyes and stared at each other for a brief second, before bashful looking away.

“you think that?” mason almost sounded unsure of himself.

“of course,” you grinned and applied some pressure to the side of his ankle, “i’d say you’re one of the best.” mason hummed almost silently, resting his head back on the table. it didn’t hurt, and if anything, he’d have to thank chilly for kicking his ankles, as it got you two talking.

weeks had passed, mason visiting your office most days with random excuses.

“my legs are fine. but maybe a shoulder rub for good luck?”

“i bought you a smoothie.”

“it’s cold outside, and i told the boys my thighs were sore.”

“now i’m just bored.”

every time he’d appear, you’d just pull up a chair instead of prepping the table. he’d talk to you about the most random of things, the pair of you having an intense debate on whether or not ross and rachel were on a break. he’d quickly become your favourite visitor.

“mr. mount, to what do i owe the pleasure?” you questioned, knowing it was him just by the way he fiddled with the handle before opening the door. he grinned at the nickname, sitting in the desk chair beside you.

“i actually came to ask if you wanted to go for a drink tonight. the boys were meant to, but now it looks like i’m all alone.” mason explained, a white lie thrown into the mix. he wasn’t being left by the boys, he asked them to cancel, so he could spend some with you. “so, you fancy it?”

“sure.” you smiled, accepting his invitation before you could overthink your way into cancelling. “i’ll text you my address.” he nodded his head, resting his head on his hands as you got on with paperwork. you could see out of the corner of your eye, he was staring at you as you worked. he had no training to be getting on with, and saw a better pastime in watching you work.

when you’d finally finished work and gotten yourself dressed up, mason was even more in awe of you. you looked adorable at work, and now he’d seen you in a new light. it’s like seeing your crush outside of school, it’s weird not seeing them in uniform, but seeing a new layer of them was good. he’d picked you up and taken you to the nicest pub he could find, it was a quiet one. it was a pub you had to pay extra for to sit on the terrace with a table to yourself. but he was willing to go the distance.

“it’s weird not seeing you in your kit.” you mentioned, staring at his impeccable sense of fashion. like he’d been ripped from the front page of asos. mason chuckled loudly and sipped on his beer, after doing a brief ‘cheers’ with you. it was british tradition, after all.

“i know. i’m used to seeing you in leggings and a chelsea top.” mason observed, his cheeks blushing at the way you looked at him. he felt the butterflies begin to swarm in his stomach, like they did on the way here. “now you’re in a dress, i can see your legs.” his eyes widened at the weird statement that just fell from his lips, face burning with embarrassment. “sorry, that sounded so creepy.”

you burst into laughter, feeling anything but disturbed. in fact, you felt more comfortable with him. “don’t worry about it, you’re easy to feel comfortable with.” mason took this chance to hide his rosy cheeks by sipping on his beer. the pair of you conversed for well over an hour, your conversations from work spilling into the mix too. and soon enough you were laughing on the walk back to your home.

“that’s hilarious. i can’t believe we could’ve almost met years ago.” you exclaimed, mason proud of recalling that memory. the pair of you remembered an awful christmas concert that happened in a town near central london, and were almost inches apart unknowingly covering your ears at the screeches made by the backup singers.

you’d ended up at your door, mason standing just centimetres away from your face. you knew what he wanted, and you wanted it to. so, with the confidence given to you by the mixer you’d just downed a while ago, you closed the gap between you and engaged in a sweet kiss with him. it was well overdue, mason’s teammates would say as he told them the following day.

you’d settled in really nicely with the team, enjoying every day you spent at the training grounds. you’d only been on that one drink date with mason, always planning to reschedule another but you’d both be too busy to do so. it didn’t stop you from texting nonstop and have some late night facetime calls. you were really beginning to like each other. it was as if nothing could ruin your happiness you felt with your life at this moment.

until you’d been pulled aside and told by chelsea’s own manager that a man united massage therapist had quit, offering you the job. it would mean your whole life would shift, you’d have to move, you’d have to make friends with a team all over again, and leave mason. you couldn’t bear telling him, which you’d also been told to do. you’d have to break the news to your beloved team, who would come and cheer with you after a win, and always pester you with random requests. you were each of their’s personal assistant almost, loving your relationship with them all. and mason, you knew he’d be crushed, the girl he was so deeply falling for, being told to move to another club.

you were on edge since that very morning, not being your usual joking self with your boys as they came in for their sessions. you’d weakly smile at them and make small talk whilst tending to their stiff joints, then let them leave. all the boys carried on with their day, assuming you were just having a bad day. but mason could see through you, he could tell something was playing on your mind.

as you were putting pressure on mason’s ankle, which he’d been take off the pitch for last week, he grabbed your arm gently. sitting up, he pulled you close to him and held you how he usually did. his hands grazing your sides and his eyes almost burning holes into your own. “talk to me, pretty. what’s on your mind?”

you shook your head. “i’d go easy on the foot today, mount. i don’t want to see you benched next game.” would you even be able to see their next game? it brought you close to tears throughout the day, but being trapped in a room with mason, you were bound to cry and tell him everything.

his grip didn’t leave your arm, instead he pulled you closer to him and held you close to his chest, now standing and towering over you. you felt a sob erupt through your chest, opening the flood gates as you cried into him. he’d never seen you like this, you were always his smiling ball of sunshine. “talk to me, y/n.”

“they’re moving me.” you simply stated, hoping not to say another word and him just understand completely. but it didn’t work like that, none of the team knew. mason would be the first to know, and you had to tell the rest of the team before the day was up. as this weekend you’d be arranging accommodation in manchester whilst you looked for permanent residence, as well as meeting the team and staff you’d be working for.

“what?”

“they’re moving me to united, mase. a therapist quit over there and they asked for me, your manager signed me over a few days ago. and i’m gonna be leaving you boys.” you explained, mason’s grip on you loosening as he tried to come to terms with what you were saying. he’d had his fair share of bad news in his life, but this was the biggest blow he’d felt in a while.

“they can’t do that,” mason stuttered over his tears, a frown cast upon his face, “they can’t just expect you to pack up and leave.” you placed your hands over his cheeks, forcing him to look down at you. that’s when his tears began to fall, looking so vulnerably at each other in this time of sadness.

“they can, mason. and they have, i need to go this weekend to meet the team and look to move up there.” you admitted, your hands refused to leave his face. you were soaking up every bit of mason you could before you left. long-distance didn’t work for either of you, especially with how busy you both were. the only time you’d see each other would be if chelsea were to play united.

“i can’t lose you, y/n.” he confessed, pulling you into him and resting his head above yours. it wasn’t just losing a girl he was seeing, it was losing someone he loved. he’d fallen deeply in love with you — but telling you would just hinder your movement. he couldn’t make it any harder than it was, it would ruin you. he just had to let you go.

that afternoon, you’d thought about what you were going to say and met the boys on the pitch. the second mason saw you, it took everything in him to not cry into his hands. but he managed to stay strong. you stood weakly beside the team manager, avoiding everyone’s eyes and fiddling with your jumper sleeves.

“afternoon boys,” you greeted them, hearing a few cheers and whistles, they loved you, “i have some news. today will be my last day working with you. i’ve been transferred to united, which will take full effect this weekend. you guys have my number if you just want to talk rubbish, or have any questions for me.” it was a long while of hugging them all, laughing with them and repeating little inside jokes with them.

“what are you going to do without me, huh?” you asked reece, who just chuckled and gave you a squeeze. “i’ll miss you all, you know who i’ll be cheering on if you ever go against united.”

you’d settled in at united perfectly, but something was missing. it was always going to feel this way, nothing would ever break the bond you shared with the chelsea boys. even when they went head to head, and you’d catch mason’s eyes on the pitch, you’d have to hide your smile when they scored, and try even harder if mason was the one putting it in the back of the net. you got on well with the boys here, but you found yourself missing the boys back at chelsea, and most of all, mason.

months had passed since your move to manchester, and you were heading out of your office on a particular tiring friday afternoon, walking past united’s manager, who always seemed to be on his way to something.

“ah, y/n, just who i needed to see.” he commented, stopping you as you were headed out to find a late rashford for his session. “keep an eye on your emails tonight, please. you’ve been included in an international offer.” you nodded, not hearing anything past the word ‘email’. and when you’d gotten home that evening, waiting for your takeaway to arrive, you mindlessly scrolled your emails.

something about the upcoming world cup, saying you’d been selected as the teams massage therapist. it burned your eyes as you danced around your tiny living room; so happy to have a chance at seeing any of the chelsea boys again. you’d thought that after all these months of just seeing mason’s face in his instagram posts, he’d have forgotten about you and moved on. but it was the furthest from the truth.

mason watched over your socials for months, seeing your various pictures with the likes of rashford, shaw, and lingard. he made sure you had friends and was having a good time up north. but every night he’d go to bed, yearning for you and the time you both spent together. missing your first kiss, missing hearing the sound of your laugh in real life, not just through another footballers videos. he missed spending hours on the phone. and although he had a chance to reconnect with you, it would be too much for the both of you to handle. he’d miss you so much more, knowing you were simply unobtainable.

after signing all of the correct documents to show you could in fact work for the national team, you were on your way to the training grounds and coping with living in the camp alongside the boys and other members of staff. it was better than your tiny manchester apartment, that was for sure. you weren’t really needed outside for training, so you set up your office and began on your paperwork. time passed a lot quicker here than it did when you worked at united, it was nearing your lunch break already. a knock was placed at your door, bringing your out of your work daze.

“hello, stranger.” you heard from behind you, heart overjoyed that it was actually him. it was your mason. you turned round to greet him, standing up and immediately pulling him into a hug. it felt familiar, the only bit of familiarity you had in this place. “god, i missed you.” he even smelt the same, as creepy as it was to say.

“i knew you’d be called up,” you admitted to him, looking up at his red face. it was just like the first time, he was so nervous to talk to you, “you’re still my best player.” his hands found your cheeks, taking advantage of the affection not feeling awkward. it was as if you never left.

“you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you all these months, y/n,” he whispered, face centimetres away from yours. “how much i’ve wanted to kiss you again.” you wanted it too, you finally felt like you found your missing piece. but you had to remain professional, this was national level now, not just club level.

“trust me,” you whispered back at him, holding your hands above his own, “i’ve wanted to kiss this pretty face, too. but we have to be professional.” he nodded, understanding that if they were caught, you’d be the one facing repercussions, not him. so he respected your choice and stood back.

“what about when the day’s over, and we go back to the camp,” he suggested, a hand on your shoulder to stop you from turning around, “what would you say to me then?” you just shrugged, sitting back down in your chair and continuing your work. the remainder of your day was quiet, just talking about a few people tomorrow that have stiff joints that need loosening. you’d made your way back to camp, opening your door and sighing as you took your shoes off.

what room are you in? mason texted, waiting outside his door.

you’re eager, i just finished work. but i’m on the floor above you, room 39. you texted him back, speedily changing your attire for something more comfortable and freshening up. mason would be up here within seconds. and whilst there were no rules stating that the squad shouldn’t be in staff members rooms, it felt wrong.

“you’re gonna have to leave when nobody can see you.” you sighed, opening your door to an eager mason. he wormed past you and sat on your bed, semi annoyed that your bed was comfortable than his.

“so not only do you get a room to yourself, you get a bed that doesn’t feel like a plank of wood.” mason stated, clearly getting comfortable on your bed. “i just might have to stay here.” you rolled your eyes and sat beside him, resting your head on the pillow. “you tired?”

instead of saying anything, you nodded and inched closer to him. his right hand was drawing delicate patterns on your exposed arm, whilst the other was wrapped around you. this was the moment he wanted with you, even when you were working at chelsea. but it’s happening now and that’s all he cared about. holding the girl he still deeply loved in his arms.

“i’ll go down to dinner soon,” he mentioned, even if you could hear him or not, “maybe i’ll bring you something up.” a small kiss was placed on your temple, mason snuggling into you a bit more.

the next day, you knew you had some sessions. so you were up early, a text from mason on your phone.

i left late last night, i fell asleep once i came back from dinner. i hope you had a good night.

you blushed at his text, getting yourself prepared for the day. the boys had a match coming up soon and you wanted to be on top of your game, making sure they were all stretched and ready. you sat in your office, prepping your table and your paper work for the first person to enter.

you’d worked with grealish, bellingham, and lingard today. and they only had a few more hours training until they were done for the day. you sighed in your seat and rested your head against your desk, arms and hands sore. your handle was violently shoved down, your door opening in the process. startled, you watched declan carry his best mate in.

“he rolled his ankle taking a kick,” declan explained, helping his friend onto the table. you quickly sanitised your hands and pulled his sock down to observe his ankle. “will he be okay for the game in a few days?”

“yes, dec. he’ll be out in no time.” you reassured his friend, mason smiling through the sharp pain shooting through his ankle. declan had left shortly afterwards, leaving you to giggle at mason.

“what you giggling at, hm?” mason questioned, a finger tickling your side. you squirmed and brushed a hand over his head, his features relaxing under your touch.

“it’s always the ankles, hm?” you retorted, mason rolling his eyes before letting out a laugh of his own. “let’s get you back on your feet in time for this game.” you had taken his boot and sock off, applying gentle pressure to the sides of his ankle and seeing how badly he reacted to the pain.

after the next few days of training, it was finally time for the match. you stood nervously on the side of the pitch, watching the ball being passed around. you watched as it had gone to mason, someone from the opposing team sliding into mason, and knocking his ankles together. he fell and began to yell in pain, the medics rushing over to him and assessing the pain. after realising it was not too serious, but he still had to be taken off, they’d given the job to you.

mason sat on one of the chairs beside you, head leaned back as you pulled his socks down. he winced as your small, cold fingers had pressed different parts of his ankle, but it didn’t feel bad. in fact, it was quite relieving. “it really is always the ankles,” mason finally agreed, making you chuckle and sit on the floor opposite him, “god, it fucking hurts.”

“i will take care of you,” you mentioned, your hand sliding into his. he smiled at the contact, his free hands gently tickling your side. this small amount of public affection felt scary, but good. you knew someone would pick up on it, but you didn’t care in the slightest. you had been away from mason for far too long. months and months apart, yearning for each other every second you were awake.

when the match was over, england scoring a whopping 4-0, mason was by your side for the rest of the evening. even getting onto the coach to go home, he sat beside you the whole way; his hand in yours and his head gently resting against your shoulders. when heading back to camp, knowing you had a day’s break before the boys were back on for training again in time for the next match, mason followed you to your room. you didn’t mind, neither did anybody else really.

you’d gotten into bed beside him that night, eyes heavy from the amount of work you’d both put in today, and the buzzed feeling from declaring victory had awoken something in him. he had the urge to kiss you, like he has every moment he’s spent with you recently, but more than that. he wanted to tell you he loved you, but decided to keep quiet. he wanted to save it for another day, maybe someday more special, when you weren’t trying to catch up on sleep between games.

“are you tired of me?” mason asked, releasing his voice into the darkness. he had no idea whether you were awake or asleep, as half an hour had passed of you both enjoying each other’s presence. you were wide awake, although your eyes told a different story.

“i’m tired in general,” you admitted, rolling over to face him, barely catching his pearly whites in the dark, “but i could never get tired of you.” mason’s heart was beating through his chest, reaching out for your hand to place onto it. it was a special moment — feeling his heart rapidly paced from your words, you’d barely noticed mason’s arm around you as he pulled you into him.

“good, because i’m not letting you go again,” he spoke quietly, your hand now replaced with your head, feeling his pulses on your cheekbone. you smiled for the millionth time that day, happy you had your mason back.

[livesoffcoco]

I had to get this plot bunny out of my brain since it was running around in there all day. Sorry if it seems jumbled, I spat this out in like ten minutes lol

enjoy some chainshipping with the smallest drop of hannigram

also, Adam collects serial killers like pokemon and stray cats

Hannibal watched as the strange creature fluttered around his office, barely even registering the seat he had most of his patience occupy. There was a familiarity about him; fidgety and cold and appearing weighted down by a bucket of water even while dry. However, there were some stark differences. Where his William was unsure of himself; hiding behind a sense of chilly indifference- Adam Faulkner-Stanheight was nearly cocky. At the very least, he was able to put on a cocky front. There was that air that followed him about the room- an air of filth and blood.

Court ordered therapy seemed to be a specialty of Hannibal’s lately. Though this time, he was rather happy Adam landed in his lap so to speak. He had been keeping close eye on the Jigsaw killer as of late, especially considering it covered his own work. While Hannibal himself was flamboyant in his displays, this “Jigsaw”, tended to go even further than himself. They were called “games”; a form of rehabilitation through torture. There were multitude of survivors that came out the other side worshiping Jigsaw like a god.

Not Adam though. No, he was furious. He cursed and spewed out bile in the form of words every time he stepped foot into Hannibal’s office. The doctor had a feeling it was not the “game” Adam was in that caused this anger. It seemed far more deeply rooted.

“Is there a McDonalds near here?” The sound of Adam’s voice came floating softly from the loft where he was seated out of view. At first, Hannibal wondered if he heard him correctly from where he was seated at his desk. It was clearly a day where Adam had no intention of speaking about his time within the bathroom; that space of about a week that he was left to drink stagnant water in the pitch blackness beside a body he had killed that slowly rotted away.

When Adam was having one of those said days, Hannibal simply sat and got work done. He did not particularly care either way. If Adam was within the room, that was considered therapy; it was not as though Hannibal was going to rat him out or anything- doctor patient confidentiality and everything that entailed.

“There is.” There was not. Well, it was not close; perhaps a ten minute drive. Silence followed his answer, then the voice that responded was slightly clearer.

“I’m gonna go get some of that shit and be right back. I won’t run away doc. I would really prefer for Judge Hartley to get off my nuts; hard ass bitch was about to be me black and blue last time.” He muttered under his breath as he scrambled down the ladder and then out of the room before Hannibal could respond.

Hannibal knew that Adam would be back, he had done this in the past after all.

And just as he predicted, it was around twenty minutes later when Adam strolled right back in with a brown bag in his hands. Instead of sitting in the “patient chair”, the young plopped down upon the floor right in front of it.

At least he understood that Hannibal could clean his floors far easier than the soft leather of the chair. He even had grabbed a load of napkins from the fast food restaurant to lay out like a picnic blanket. It was clear that Adam had done something similar in the past.

Nevertheless, Hannibal took his chance and moved back to his usual seat across from Adam. For a few moments, he simply watched the man; observing how truly young he looked. As he ate the burger, Adam looked more like 21 instead of his 27. He also could not help but huff a quiet laugh at how much Adam looked like William; the two of them could very well near be brothers.

“Would you like to speak on the matter of the end of your “game” Adam?” Hannibal asked in an attempt to get some therapy done within this session.

However, he understood that was going to go nowhere when Adam’s soulful dark eyes, rimmed by a red and dark purple, looked up at him.

“Fuck that shit doc. My stomach has been aching like I just got dicked down hard. Maybe next time.” Adam curled up against the couch that rested at his back.

Perhaps Hannibal just had a type, perhaps he simply liked the version of life he never experienced considering his background, but it seemed as though Adam was growing on him like William had when they first met.

So Adam ate quietly, commenting on something he spied within the office and listened even quieter as Hannibal answered to the best of his abilities.

Before too long however, the door at his back opened and in walked two sets of footsteps; one he recognized and the other he did not-especially the off rhythmed clacking of a cane.

“Larry? What are you doing here?” Adam asked right when the two newcomers rounded Hannibal’s seat. There stood William, and a taller blonde man that appeared to be Hannibal’s age, if not a few years younger.

He recognized this “Larry” person immediately. Doctor Lawrence Gordon was the other person in that bathroom where Adam nearly died. Unlike Adam, the good doctor seemed to have come out of the bathroom much more put together than the brunette.

Hannibal noted the prosthetic on the doctors leg and stood to shake the blonde’s hand. “It is a pleasure to meet a colleague.” He said. “Hannibal Lecter.”

“Lawrence Gordon. I apologize for interrupting.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Adam, before looking back at Hannibal. “Mr. Graham and I were just speaking. The FBI in New York needs all the help they can get profiling Jigsaw, and William Graham is the best after all.” William looked down since he was so odd about taking praise. Meanwhile, Adam had stood and walked over to them. Now that he was beside Lawrence, Hannibal could see the expression that they youngest was wearing.

He loved Lawrence Gordon. Clearly, they had imprinted on one another in that bathroom. “Can I bum a ride from you Larry? My car shit out on me a couple of blocks from here.” The blonde doctor simply nodded with a heated look, eating the other man with his eyes.

It was then that Hannibal realized something, as Adam left the room before Doctor Gordon.

Hannibal felt he was looking into a mirror when he gazed upon Lawrence Gordon.

He knew that unbridled rage that wanted to rip straight through the skin.

He saw the blood upon Lawrence’s hands.

The good doctor knew more about this Jigsaw than he was letting on.

It would be a humorous event to see the FBI parse out the leads that followed them around like a ghost.