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saywhatjessie · 5 years ago

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Written for the Perfect Pair Bang! 10.5k

Art by @hectatess

It was with a sore shin and a broken model P-51D Mustang that Dean began to consider he wasn’t quite ready to be a foster parent.

He’d thought he was. He was sure of it. After the weeks and months of stress and social worker visits and forms and a lot of cleaning on Dean’s part, he and Cas were as ready as they would ever be to foster.

But here he was, balancing on one foot with an impertinent 8-year-old glaring up at him even though she was the one who’d kicked him , and Dean was not going to yell .

He wasn’t .

“Krissy,” he said, instead, through gritted teeth. “What did we say about kicking?”

“ We didn’t say anything. You said don’t do it. But I say you can’t tell me what to do.”

She geared up to kick him again and Dean could swear he was going to have to fight this child but luckily Cas swooped in, scooping her up from behind.

They’d learned that a vertical lift was only giving her legs more range for the kicking, so he lifted her bridal style, his arm coming all the way around her knees to keep them from flailing out.

That didn’t stop her from squirming, her body bucking like a fresh-caught sea bass.

“Lemme go, lemme go. ”

“This is something called ‘cause and effect’,”Cas explained calmly. Or as calmly as someone could while holding a struggling child. “It’s where something happens – the cause – and something else happens – the effect.”

She clearly was not listening but Cas wasn’t known to pass up a teachable moment.

“Can you guess what the cause was here, Krissy? To lead to the effect of me holding you like this?”

“Yeah, Krissy , what would be your guess?”

“Dean,” Cas admonished. Dean just scowled at him, rubbing his shin pointedly.

Krissy still struggled but her movements were getting weaker as she tired herself out. It was moments like these Dean really appreciated the meaty strength of Cas’s arms.

She breathed heavily, her face going from rage to pout.

“Why am I holding you, Krissy?” Cas asked again.

Krissy crossed her arms, her mouth screwed up with the clear intention of never answering Cas’s question.

Cas sighed and sat down pretzel style on the floor right where he was standing. He adjusted his hold on her, centering her more in his lap: less of a restraining hold and more of a comforting one.

She continued to pout, crossing her legs from where they hung over the edge of Cas’s, but she made herself comfortable in his lap. She seemed to resign herself to this parenting even if – to her anyway – Dean and Cas weren’t her parents.

Which was shitty but she wasn’t exactly wrong. Dean and Cas were foster parents – brand spanking new ones. They’d only been approved a little over a month ago and Krissy was their first placement.

Dean and Cas had been together for forever it felt like. Married six years this coming October. They’d always talked about kids but neither of them knew how to do it. A surrogate? Overseas adoption? Both of those options felt so… wrong for them. Not wrong in general but–

Dean had lived in a boy’s home for a while as a kid. It wasn’t quite the same as foster care but, as a kid, to be in a community with adults that cared for you when you didn’t know where your own father was or when he was coming back was really important for him. And to meet kids going through the same thing helped him feel less alone.

He’d told Cas all this and Cas had immediately agreed. Cas’s own childhood had been less tenuous, more stable, but he’d lived in a big family with many siblings with an ever rotating group of friends so the energy of a foster home appealed to him in a big way.

So they’d applied. And it had taken… a long ass time.

Dean had been assured that it would have taken a long time for any couple and it wasn’t that they were a same-sex couple or that he was a mechanic or there was a history of alchoholism in his family that was making it take so long but their home had never been cleaner than when Dean had been obsessively scrubbing every surface waiting for the verdict to come in.

And it came. And they were approved. And then they were foster parents.

And there was Krissy.

Dean watched Cas bite his lip and he knew he was holding back from calling her ��honey’ or ‘sweetheart’. They’d been warned about overly familiar nicknames and how it was more likely to put off newly placed foster kids than endear the kid to them. But Cas was a sappy fuck. And so was Dean but Dean didn’t currently have a child in his lap.

“Krissy,” he started instead. “Are you going to answer me?”

Krissy sucked her lips into her mouth, shaking her head. Her arms were still tightly crossed.

God, but she was a little shit.

That was fine. Dean could be a little shit, too.

He grunted, planting himself on the floor in front of his husband, wincing as his jeans made contact with the forming bruise on his shin from Krissy’s incessant kicks. He configured his legs so they bowed out around the two of them so he could get in nice and close.

And then poked her.

Not hard. Just a little tap on her knee. Just to pick at her.

She scowled at him. He poked her elbow. She kept scowling. He poked her forehead, her hip, her wrist, her ear, her thigh, her neck. He was needling at her: not quite tickling, but nudging. If there was anything Dean knew how to do, it was be relentlessly annoying.

Her scowl started twitching around the seventh poke. Her shoulder came up to her ear when Dean poked her neck and he could swear he saw a smile. He knew he’d won when she let out a giggle after he poked her in the ribs.

He smirked, the only amount of gloating he’d allow himself for successfully manipulating an 8-year-old.

“So, Krissy? You know why Cas is holding you?”

She scowled again but her arms were much less tightly crossed. She was more slumped into Cas’s chest, relaxed out of her temper tantrum.

“Is it because I broke the plane?”

Cas shook his head, his face solemn. “No, though I didn’t like that.” He adjusted her in his lap again. If Dean were to guess, he’d say Cas’s legs were falling asleep. “The cause was you acting out with violence. I’m not going to punish you for accidentally breaking something, but I will do what I can to keep you from hurting other people.”

Krissy wouldn’t make eye contact. Her brows were furrowed in anger and her cheeks were red, but her lower lip trembled.

“I didn’t mean to break it.”

Cas squeezed her a bit. “I know, honey.”

Dean smiled at him. Cas scrunched his face at him like ‘Yeah, I know I slipped, shut up.’

Krissy let herself be squeezed, glancing up at Dean before looking away again. “Dean looked mad.”

Cas shrugged. “That’s just his face.”

Dean’s expression twisted in offense. Cas blew him a kiss, tilting his head in Krissy’s direction.

Dean sighed, scooching closer across the floor.

“I wasn’t mad, Krissy. Just worried. You know how much Cas likes his planes.”

She nodded, looking more upset.

He reached forward and put his hand over hers. “But you didn’t do it on purpose. And getting defensive and kicking me wasn’t the right thing, right?”

Krissy shrugged. He didn’t know if she agreed with him or if she just didn’t know what defensive meant.

But fuck him, he wasn’t a child psychologist. He didn’t know how to explain it better.

So instead, he stood up, picking Krissy out of Cas’s arms and throwing her over his shoulder. She shrieked, but in a way that was more of a giggle than an objection. He couldn’t help but smile at it.

“Now, I’m gonna go clean up some plane parts. But my leg is super hurt. So I think I’m gonna need someone to help me.” He bounced Krissy a bit on his shoulder, making her giggle again. “You know anyone like that, lil girl?”

Krissy sighed, like Dean was really putting her out, but she didn’t push away from him. For Dean that was progress. “I guess I can help.”

“All right!” Dean crowed, he put her back on the ground. “You can pick up all the little pieces and put them on the table. I’m too old to stoop over like that.”

She scowled at him but there was a twinkle in her eye.

They only ended up keeping Krissy for a couple weeks – her dad’s case being kicked out of court and further placement no longer being needed – but she was their first real taste of what it was like being parents.

After she left and Cas was holding Dean in their bed, his arms keeping Dean close to his chest, Dean knew he missed her. Dean missed her too. But they’d get another kid.

Dean hoped they were ready for it.

[Continue Reading on Ao3]

#Destiel #oops I wrote a thing #Jessie writes Destiel fic #PPB fic #fluff #obviously

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mamacesawrites · 5 years ago

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Prince in the Storm: Chapter Five

Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Virgil was sensitive. Most people saw him as some “spooky, broody dude”, when in reality he was just a private person. Teachers tried to open his mind up with a figurative crowbar. Everyone tried to get him to open up. Well, everyone except his best friend Talyn. They were the only one who understood his personality and inner workings just enough to be his friend. However, they haven’t seen his Marking. No one other than his parents have.

Contrary to popular belief, Roman was sensitive. Most people saw him as a fanciful, dreamy, somewhat egotistical thespian who wanted nothing but to be the best of the best. Everyone cheered him on in his performances. Everyone praised his original works. Anything he made others enjoyed. People would whisper about his Marking, wondering where it was and when he would reveal it. He had a whole circle of friends, yet no one except his best friend Joan understood him. Joan was the only one who saw Roman’s insecurities.

As students of Kingston High School, with zany principals and try-hard superintendents, it is up to Virgil and Roman to stay alive enough to fulfill their destiny. Ao3

Word Count: 1824

Chapter Warnings: cursing, mean remarks, arguing tell me if I need to add more

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen

Bonuses: Immune to Change

Chapter Five

Virgil had survived the first two weeks of school. Mostly. Two weeks in, the principal had decided to change their mascot and school colors. No one knew why. There were rumors, of course, but Virgil didn’t care that much. They were probably going to be changed more often. Principal Duke had been known to be very indecisive and impulsive. He seemed to put all of his attention into the more frivolous parts of the school. Colors, spirit weeks, events, mascots.

Meanwhile, the important things were left in the dust. Teachers were always scowling, supplies were never ordered on time, and one time in Virgil’s sophomore year they missed one of the state standardized tests. He honestly found it kinda funny, even if it meant his education was a waste.

He had overslept Monday morning after a long weekend of staying up late mindlessly scrolling through tumblr, snacking on chips, and texting Talyn. He forgot to set his alarm for school, so his dad had to come in and wake him up. Meaning he had to skip breakfast in order for them to leave on time.

He walked sluggishly into his Chemistry class. He wasn’t feeling like trying in a class he already sucked in. He sat at his desk right as the late bell rang. Yay. right on time, he thought to himself sarcastically, Wasn’t worth skipping breakfast though.

He leaned his head on his desk as his Chemistry teacher, Mr. Charles, started their warm up. He didn’t bother to listen, he was too tired. All he could think about was his warm bed that he was practically pulled out of. All those thoughts of sleep must have been very convincing, because next thing he knew he heard a stern voice next to him snipe, “Mr. Sanders!”

“Pancakes!” Virgil shouted with a start. The class laughed at him, causing him to blush hard.

Mr. Charles just raised an eyebrow at him, “I take it you skipped breakfast this morning?”

Virgil asked, “Yeah, how did you know?” confused. It took him a few seconds to realize that he did shout out a breakfast food.

Mr. Charles just walked back to the front of the classroom. “How many of you skipped breakfast this morning?” He addressed the class.

More than half the class raised their hands. The teacher pointed to someone raising their hand, “Why did you miss breakfast?”

The girl shrugged. “Nothing? No reason at all?” he asked. Seeing her blush and turn her head down, he motioned to Virgil. “Why did you miss breakfast?”

Virgil squirmed in his chair, not liking that many eyes on him. He muttered, “Slept in too late.”

Evidently his teacher had good hearing, because he started, “Alright class, today we’re going to take a break from negative and positive charges to talk about setting a better lifestyle for ourselves. You can not expect to do well in my class when you ignore basic self care. So to start we will talk about the importance of breakfast.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. He quietly pulled his phone out to sit on his lap so he could look at it when Mr. Charles wasn’t paying attention to him. He didn’t need to care about a ‘better lifestyle’. Even if he tried it out, he’d probably back out within the first two weeks. Plus his dad’s cooking was healthy enough.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the thought that him dozing off in class led to his teacher changing subjects for the day. Everyone must have hated him more.

When the bell rang, he was very quick to pack up his bag. He nearly made it to the door before he heard the dreaded, “Virgil, hang back for a second.”

He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. Of course he had to get called back. He turned around quickly and leaned against one of the desks. Act tough, get respect.

Mr. Charles was sitting behind his desk resting his chin on folded hands. “How are you feeling?”

He scoffed in response. “Fantastic, Mr. Charles,” responding sarcastically.

The teacher cleared his throat. “Actually, when class is not in session, it would be easier to call me by my first name; Logan.”

Virgil barked out a hollow laugh in mocked astonishment. “Wow, teach, sorry- Logan. Who knew you were capable of being one of the cool ones? I thought from the way you acted you had a stick up your-”

“That’s enough Mr. Sanders.” Logan cut him off sternly. “If you finish that statement, I will have no choice to put you in detention.”

That was it. Virgil had lost his patience for the day. “Whatever, go ahead then. What’s more time in a shitty desk to me?” He didn’t bother to wait for a response before storming out and slamming the door behind him. He pushed out imagined thoughts of his father’s disappointed face when he got the news of detention.

Once again, he was in too much of a rush to pay attention to where he was going. Once again, he ran into someone. Once again, that person had to be Roman freaking King.

They were learning how to not fall when running into each other it seemed, because they only brushed shoulders a bit too harshly. Virgil couldn’t take it. He was tired, he was pissed, and he was done.

“Oh my God, what is your deal, Emo Nightmare?” Roman cried incredulously. “One would think you had a bit of a crush, considering how many times you’ve ‘accidentally’”, he air quoted, “ran into me.”

“Oh my God, King, how many times do I have to point out that it’s your giant ego blocking your vision? Why don’t you go sing some show tunes in an assembly or something.” Virgil snapped. Students passing by sent curious glances their way.

Roman sputtered, making offended noises. “I don’t know what’s up your butt, but leave me alone because clearly you’re not meant to be around us normal people. You know, kids who actually care about what we want to learn!”

That stung Virgil, but he didn’t dare show it. Instead he did what he did whenever someone insulted him. He got into Roman’s face, their height being close but he straightened his back enough to tower over the boy just enough for his eyes to widen in fear.

“I’d watch how you speak to me, King, otherwise you’ll find yourself in very. Dangerous. Territory.” he threatened. Roman’s nod was all he needed for a response.

He turned on his heel and slouched. The whispers from the other students, including Roman, calling him a creep stabbed him like a baptism in sewing needles. He tried not to care, he got everyone’s guard up enough that they’d give him the isolation he wanted for the day.

~~~~

Roman hadn’t felt like himself after the run in with Virgil, so he decided to skip lunch with his friends. He texted Joan to let them know that he had to be alone for a bit. He didn’t need to check for a response. He always had a closer friendship with Joan than any of his other friends. Perhaps it was the way they would be able to work together to create amazing pieces of art.

When he needed to be alone to think, he’d go outside to the courtyard in the center of the school. Not many students hung out there during lunch, and the ones who did usually kept to themselves. This afternoon, he was pleasantly surprised to see he was the only student there. He was free to sit quietly and think. Usually he went to try to get inspiration for a new creative project, or write some poetry. That afternoon, it was just to re-center himself.

He pulled out his notebook, thinking that maybe a poem wasn’t too bad of an idea. He fiddled around with his pencil while he looked around the courtyard. He wasn’t necessarily taking in any detail, just looking for something to catch his attention. Boy, was his attention caught.

He saw an older man in a suit storm into the courtyard, followed by none other than Virgil. He quickly shifted to look like he wasn’t listening, and so Virgil couldn’t see his face. The last thing he needed was to be accused of caring about what was going on.

“I can’t believe this, your second week back, and you already got detention?” The man asked incredulously.

He could almost hear Virgil crossing his arms.

“Yeah, so? Why do you care? You’re not my dad.” Virgil accused. Roman had to put a fist in his mouth to keep himself from giggling at the childish retort.

“Oh, Virge, I don’t mean it like that,” the other said in a softer tone, “I just want to look out for you. That’s why I’m here. I need to help Principal Duke clean up this school so you can have a chance to succeed. This is your senior year for heaven's sake. It’s time to get serious about your future”

Virgil huffed, “Sure, you’re doing it for me. Not because it’s your job or anything.”

There was quiet in the courtyard. Roman kept himself completely still. He thought if he moved it would ruin the mood of the conflict behind him. He felt like an outsider, well, he was outside. Technically they were the intruders, so maybe he shouldn’t have felt guilty for eavesdropping.

The older man behind him sighed, “I wish you could see that it’s for both reasons.” Without another word (that Roman could tell, anyway), the man left.

Roman stayed frozen, hoping to himself that he had succeeded in being unnoticed. That is, until he heard, “Alright, King, you can breathe now.”

He hesitantly turned to see Virgil standing closer, basically right behind him. He gulped because it was the second time the dark boy stood over him that day. “Uh, hi.” Really, Roman?, he internally chastised.

Virgil lifted an eyebrow. “What, no nickname this time?” Did Roman imagine the teasing lilt in the question?

Roman made himself stand up, not liking the feeling of being small. “I think I should save them for the times we literally run into each other, I can only make up so many,” he tried to smile, though he felt like he wasn’t succeeding.

“Sure,” Virgil drew out the word, “Whatever you say, King.”

Roman blushed, not knowing how he felt about being called by his last name. He chuckled, trying to brush it off. He was pleasantly shocked to hear Virgil chuckle as well.

“Well, Mr. Popularity,” Virgil said, “See you in the theater.” Virgil lightly punched Roman’s arm in an almost friendly gesture.

Roman didn’t know why, but he felt tingles spread through his torso. He smiled to himself, hopeful that he had made some headway. Then he quickly shook the idea from his head as he headed to class. Doesn’t make us friends yet.

Let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist for this story!

#prinxiety #prinxiety fic #soulmate au #high school au #romantic prinxiety #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sympathetic remus #syrmpathetic deceit #prince in the storm #prince in the storm au #Mama Cesa writes

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anonsally · 5 years ago

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Days 79-82 of COVID-19 shelter-in-place

These have been four very intense days both globally and personally. This admittedly long post will focus more (but not exclusively) on the personal side of that.

Day 79 was Wednesday. I hadn’t had enough sleep, but I got up at a reasonable hour because I needed a ballet class. Before class started, I got a call from the medical center for scheduling a procedure I need to have done. That will be in 2 weeks, contingent on me testing negative for COVID-19 four days beforehand. I’m anxious about the procedure but will be glad to get it over with after several months of worry. Anyway, ballet class was good for calming me down.

It was hot out. I did my parents’ grocery shopping (and bought a few things for us) and then had a nice conversation with my dad when I dropped off his groceries. We talked about the state of the world. He told me about a city that had literally fired its entire police department and started over... which is what we probably need on a national level, with very few exceptions.

I refueled the car on the way home and got a predictably late start on my work day. Wife got two more job interviews scheduled at very different companies. I took a walk, spotting another Steller’s jay at the bird feeders. The jays are so much larger than the little birds who frequent the feeders!

I then went to try to buy milk, but the tiny independent market had closed early to enable the employees to get home before curfew. So I had to go to Trader Joe’s instead. By the time I got home I was somewhat demotivated about food prep, but luckily Wife pulled herself together and scrambled me an egg. I didn’t manage to get to bed till 1am, which was at least an hour later than I’d intended, but Wife was still up at 4am!

Day 80. I forced myself to get up at 8:30 since I knew I would need to go to bed early that night. I arranged to (video-)meet with my boss at 12:30. I started work around 11am or so and got a few thing done. The meeting with my boss was good--partly social, discussing how we were coping with the situation and working from home, what we missed about the office, and such, but we also talked about what I’ve been working on. She reminded me that the study section reviewing my grant application will be meeting this month, so I will have to remember to check my scores.

Afterwards we had a meeting with a few other coworkers, which was fairly productive. I had a short “coffee break” video call with a colleague, too. The county-wide curfew was lifted a day early.

After work, I took a walk in a direction I hadn’t gone in a while. Was heartened to see Black Lives Matter signs even in cul-de-sacs in a wealthy, mainly white neighborhood. I picked up takeout for dinner, and did a bunch of Adulting in the early evening, including preparing for the next morning. I was in bed by 10:45pm.

Day 81. My alarm got me up at 5am, and we left at 6am. We got to the medical center on time at 7am and I went in (Wife was not allowed to accompany me, but had to be there to drive me home; there was a separate room across the street for visitors to wait in, which was good because it was suddenly very cold outside). Initially, there was a lot of waiting, during which I did a little bit of yoga and dancing as I knew I would not be able to move much for the rest of the day. I was there for a diagnostic procedure involving a needle (for data privacy reasons I won’t get more specific here; it’s unrelated to the procedure I’m having in 2 weeks), which required me to remain horizontal for 4 hours afterwards, at least according to the information they’d given me beforehand. I had to be fasting from midnight the night before: no food or drink, including water.

Eventually I was wheeled down to the ultrasound department, where the doctor who planned to do the procedure met me and the radiologists. However, when they looked at the images, there were a lot of vessels around. The doctor did not feel confident that she could do the procedure based on a mark on my skin without accidentally hitting a blood vessel. So she asked the radiologists to do it as an ultrasound-guided procedure, which would be safer since they would be able to see what they were doing on the ultrasound. This procedure was done with only local anaesthetic. Mostly I couldn’t feel what was going on, and it was supposed to be very quick, but unfortunately, the resident had a lot of trouble--the senior radiologist was trying to guide him through doing, but he couldn’t get the needle positioned quite right, and in the end the senior radiologist had to do it herself. It was pretty uncomfortable and there were some moments where it was quite painful. I tried to breathe deeply and stay relaxed, but it was hard. When they finally got it to work, it was over pretty quickly. I was relieved. It was about 11am by then.

However, I had to spend an hour in a large recovery room with many other patients, while my blood pressure and pulse were monitored. I had expected to have the procedure done upstairs in the room where I’d started, where I had left all my stuff. They very kindly sent someone up to retrieve my phone for me so I could at least text Wife and my parents so they would know the worst of it was over.

After an hour I was wheeled upstairs and transferred from the gurney to a bed (this took 3 people as I was not allowed to stand up yet) for more monitoring. They drew my blood to test my blood counts; I was going to be allowed to leave after only 2 hours of bed rest if the counts were stable. After the 2 hours, I was allowed to get up and use the bathroom (and grab the crossword puzzles from my backpack to work on), and then I continued resting while waiting first for the blood counts, which finally came back fine, and then for the discharge papers, which took an unreasonably long time. Around 2pm the nurse finally allowed me to have some ice--hoorah! (I was parched. I normally drink at least 2 liters of water per day.) At 2:40pm I was cleared to leave; I texted Wife, who went to get the car and picked me up at the entrance to the hospital at about 3pm.

Literally every single person on the hospital staff was kind and friendly. They all introduced themselves to me by name, including the people whose job it was to simply wheel me from one place to another, and they all seemed to be invested in my well-being. When I was being wheeled through the hallway, whenever we passed anyone else who worked there they smiled and said hello both to me and to the person in charge of transporting me. It seemed like everyone working really considered themselves a team, with respect for everyone regardless of place in the hospital hierarchy. Since, like all patients during this pandemic, I was there alone and a bit anxious, it made the experience much less unpleasant than it could have been.

I spent 8 hours in the hospital, so I really hope I didn’t catch COVID-19, but the procedures seemed pretty good. I was wearing a mask almost all the time (except in the room where I was waiting at the beginning and end, which was essentially private), as were all the employees, and everyone was sanitising their hands every time they entered or exited a room or touched any equipment. I also didn’t spend the whole time with any one person. So, hopefully it was safe.

I spent the rest of the afternoon vedging out at home, rehydrating, and finally eating, and I went to bed earlier than usual though later than I expected, around 12:15am.

Day 82. I wanted to try to get a lot of sleep so my body could heal from yesterday’s ordeal, so today I slept till about 10am. The wound from the procedure is tender to the touch and there’s a small bruise near it, but otherwise I’m not in pain from it. Except my ankle is in more pain than it’s been in for ages, and I have no idea why. Maybe I slept on it funny? Or maybe it’s an aftereffect of the weird position I had to hold during the procedure.

I think my joy at getting to eat cereal this morning was perhaps a bit over-the-top!

Wife had a bad headache today, likely caused by neck tension from all the driving yesterday. I am still pretty tired today, despite all the sleep, but I suppose that’s to be expected.

We went to the farmers’ market and stumbled upon a socially-distanced, family-friendly protest. A friend of mine was there with her kids, but I didn’t see her. We bought our produce--though I had to make an extra trip back to the car to drop off my purchases, as I am not supposed to lift anything heavy today. The stand with the curried fish had run out, but they still had some uncooked prepped fish, so we bought that and they explained how to steam it at home. We came home and cooked the fish and ate it for lunch; it was just as good as it would’ve been if they’d cooked it. Phew! Other than that we’ve been relaxing at home, though Wife did gather her energy and go for a run, which has helped to relieve her headache a little (as has the bath she took afterwards, and the painkillers she took).

I’m hoping to feel up to taking a dance class (online) tomorrow.

#personal #dance #birdwatching #Health Care #food #even though there is no picture of food here #black lives matter #epidemiology #activism #tl;dr

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everyonesawhoregrace · 7 years ago

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Divorcee (Thomas Shelby imagine) part 5

.. before Evangeline’s death *

I never wanted to go to his house, but it was the mans birthday and Evangeline baked him a cake and wrote him a lovely card. Alls was done by me, but she took full credit.

The cake was made for Thomas. Dark like his soul, and strong like the alcohol he drinks, I made sure to add a dash of whiskey to the chocolate cake - knowing it’ll only make him happy. It was hard to bake a cake for him, remembering the last time I spent his birthday with him was at the house we shared, screaming at one another. I was pregnant then and didn’t know it, and far too drunk. Thomas and I ended up on the floor next to the fireplace, his hands pressed against my wrists as I laid there looking up at him defeatedly.

He pressed his hands into my wrists, making me wince. I couldn’t help but wince, feeling the pain of his hands serge into my wrists.

“Tell me what you want,” He said as he neared me.

I kicked out my feet, trying to get him off of me. But he was straddling me, and I felt nothing but a wave of heat. His eyes remain a light blue as dark pieces of hair fall over his forehead. “Ay? What do you want? Do you want me to fuck you, or do you want to continue fighting?” He asks as he lowered his head, sealing everything with a kiss.

Thomas and I didn’t speak much after our ordeal at my house. As a matter of fact, he decided to punish Evangeline by not showing up the following week. This was unlike Thomas, he never missed a week.

I thought he was dead and that brought me to purchasing a telephone. I called Thomas’s telephone, but Lizzie Starke picked up and assured me in that innocent I-fucked-your-husband voice that he was alright. The damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing for the next few days, Thomas continued to ring us and he and Evangeline would talk nonstop sometimes.

And then when he decided to show up on a Tuesday evening, she was already asleep, and he was clearly not in the mood to talk to me. When I opened the door and welcomed him inside, Thomas asked where Evangeline was. To which I replied that she was asleep. He stormed off, huffing and puffing towards his Bugatti or whatever the hell kind of luxurious cars he owns.

We took the train to see Thomas. I live pretty far from the Shelby residence - thank God, Evangeline was buzzing as I nearly pissed my pants. I don’t want to bring my daughter anywhere near the wicked place of Birmingham.

“Mama!” She calls, leaning into the window. “Mama look!” Evangeline sits up on the seat and peers in, the people in around us watch her in dismay. She presses her lips to the window, and I know she’s doing it to get a riot out of the posh business men on our trolly.

My eyes trail to them as they hiss and shake their heads at her behaviour. I wonder what they’d say perhaps if I admit to them that I am Thomas Shelby’s ex wife, and the little girl they are disgusted in is our daughter.

What would they do, I wonder, if I ask them if they know Thomas. After all, we are heading to Birmingham.

That’s what comes with him, a power so unforgiving and deadly. A power that makes his family think that they’re all entitled.

I remember on the evening of having Evangeline and being there with Polly and my midwife in the birthing facility in London. I remember the midwifes hands trembling she accidentally poked me with her needle one too many times. Polly scared her, hissing that she needs to be more gentle with a Shelby.

I snorted at her comment, telling Polly to shut up or leave if she wanted to be rude. I needed a calming and nice birth, not one that makes me and the midwife feel antsy.

“Mama!” Evangeline calls for me and slaps her hand against my arm.

“What is it?” I snap, turning to her as she licks the window, my hand moves to the side of her face as I try to smooth out the wild brown curls. “Now that’s enough, Evangeline.” I tell her.

She stops, pouting and sitting back. The cake sits between us, alongside a gift we had wrapped up and a card.

It’s early in the day, and I imagine Thomas asleep. I have a little bit of a heavy chest, nerves just in case Evangeline has to witness something she really shouldn’t have to see. I’m sure I’m just begin an overbearing, delusional mum. But I fondly remember witnessing my father having sex with a woman other than my mother. It was earth shattering.

Don’t get me wrong, Evangeline knows mama and dada don’t live together. Shes never been to dads house, and she knows dada has a job that is not like mamas and that dada tries to visit as much as he can. And I’m thankful that everything she’s asked has been effortlessly easy questions.

Evangeline begins to pay with one of the many toys I brought on this journey. And then she ends up falling asleep and waking up to the sound of the train blowing their whistle. It shakes her awake and makes her burst into tears, I’m thankful that she’s awake though because my arm was getting numb.

“We’re here, Eva!” I tell her before getting her to stand. “We’re here, we’re in dadas hometown.”

“Dada?!” My sweet angel bounces up and down despite being delirious. We walk off of the train and jump onto the platform where she is so excited it’s almost a moment that makes me feel happy.

But as my eyes linger around at the people who study us with their heads tilted, I can’t help but feel afraid.

What if someone attacks us? I know there is a lot at stake coming here. Shit. Why didn’t just tell him? This didn’t have to be a surprise. And I know Thomas would have my head if anything happened to Evangeline.

We walk down the street of the trains and that looming feeling of someone watching us doesn’t seem to go away. Rather that, I know someone is staring so I grab Evangeline’s hand and we walk a quicker pace. She’s becoming tired, I can tell by how much she drags her feet and whines.

You’d think a little baby who has just learned to walk wouldn’t want to ever stop but she’s quite the slugger, much like her mum.

“Mama!” She whines. “Up!”

“Do you want mama to pick you up?” I ask looking into her eyes. She pouts and nods and I have a hard time picking up the baby while holding onto the cake. “Jesus.” I groan, before getting her on my hip.

She rests her head on my shoulder, putting her thumb in her mouth. “Dada, Mama,” She coos, telling me she wants her father.

“I know love, we’re almost there.” I coo, trying to breathe.

A chorus of car honks come from nowhere, causing me walk faster brieefore I hear my name being called. I turn my gaze and see the men in a beautiful black car wave their hands for me.

My goodness. Its Arthur fucking Shelby.

He is accompanied by a lady with blonde hair and blue eyes who drives the car as he hops out and hurries towards me. I can’t help but break into a helpless sigh of relief, thankful to see his face again.

Its been too long. Arthur looks different, old and grey but even more tough and wise.

“My God, would you look at that!” He says eyeing me, Arthur embraces me, kissing my cheek. “You doin’ well, y/n? You look well.”

I shift awkwardly as Evangeline studies her uncle. “Yeah, I’m ok. You?”

“I’m well. Yea, and who’s this precious thing?” His voice goes high as Eva and him lock eyes, “She looks exactly like her mother, a fucking beaut!”

I blush as he reaches for Evangeline and she allows him to scoop him up. She’s never been a baby that cries for her mama, only her dad does she welt away for. She loves her dad.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I remember the times when Arthur would be petrified of holding our infant baby. And now he’s getting acquainted with her, and she seems to adore him.

I step closer to them as Arthur repeats his name for her to reply.

“Arthur she can’t say your name just yet,” I giggle, “She can say Art, for now.”

His face twists, “I want her to say my full name.”

“Art!” Evangeline answers and points at her uncle.

“Yes baby girl,” I inhale, impressed by her, “Uncle Art!”

“I guess that name sticks.” He pouts before looking at me. “You here to see Tommy?”

“Yeah, does he still live by The Garrison?”

He nods. “Sure does, I’m actually heading there myself. Want a lift?”

I turn my head, looking at the woman who nervously looks at us. “Who’s the bird?”

“Oh that’s Linda!” He grabs my hand, walking towards the car. “Linda! Look, it’s my niece and Tommy’s ex wife!”

I roll my eyes, managing to crack a smile as I am introduced to Linda.

_____

Part 5 chapter 2 coming up?

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby imagines #everyonesawhoregrace

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years ago

Text

Can’t Get You Off My Mind

Summary: The reader wakes up during a hunt one morning with a strange new ability. She can read Dean’s mind. As she discovers some secrets about him, she tries to get herself back to normal without him realizing what’s happening...

Masterlist

Square: Mind Reading

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,300ish

Warnings: language, implied smutty

A/N: Written/Created for @spnfluffbingo

A/N #2: Bolded & Italicized are Dean’s thoughts...

God damn.

“Hm?” you said, standing upright as your crouched over your bag, fishing through it for some fresh clothes. Dean merely grunted as you adjusted your towel, making sure you weren’t accidentally showing your ass off to him. You grabbed a pencil skirt and white blouse, picking up a pair of underwear and bra to head back into the bathroom and change.

You’re gonna kill me one of these days, sweetheart.

You spun around, Dean shoveling a breakfast taco in his mouth, not even looking at you.

“I’m losing it,” you muttered to yourself, going into the motel bathroom and getting dressed.

Fifteen minutes later you were sipping on a cup of coffee, handing Dean his cup before you started your quick drive to the police station. He threw on his favorite Zeppelin tape and cranked the volume, biting his bottom lip as he drove.

Sometimes I think you only like this band because of me.

“Oh course I like Led Zeppelin. Anyone with good taste in music does,” you said, Dean raising an eyebrow.

“You want to talk about music?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, wondering what was going on with him today. “Knock yourself out.”

You were at the station not thirty seconds when Dean was practically growling behind you.

Keep on walking scumbag. Yeah, don’t even think twice about her.

Or at least you thought he was, a plain, bored expression on his face as he looked around the station at a few of the people in there.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, spinning back around, untying the sash on your peacoat in the warm office.

You know a real fed would never make a coat look that good.

You wanted to throw a smart ass comment back to whatever low life in the place just said that but it hit you that was Dean’s voice talking. You glanced back over your shoulder, Dean playing with his phone.

You wore those heels again too...you are so fucking hot in that fed suit you got no clue.

You gulped, the words sounding off loud and clear but his lips weren’t moving and not a person in the area seemed to be reacting to him swearing in the lobby of a police station.

Why are you worried? See something?

He was looking around, raising an eyebrow as you shook your head, waiting for the chief to come out.

Hopefully this is quick. I wanted to try and get back home by tonight.

You turned back around, hearing random thoughts filter through Dean’s head, squeezing your eyes shut. There was no way you could hear what he was thinking.

Headache.

“Headache?” asked Dean, nudging your shoulder.

“No. Just tired,” you said with a smile.

I kept her up again, dammit.

He nodded, looking over your head, sighing at the guy running the desk.

“Are we going to see the chief sometime today?” asked Dean.

“Be patient,” you said, Dean rolling his eyes.

I just want to finish this up so you can sleep in your own bed tonight.

“Sorry for the wait agents,” said the chief, rounding a corner with a smile. “What can I help you with today?”

“How bad is it?” you asked that night, sitting in your motel room with you back to Dean, shirt off as his fingers ghosted over your back.

It looks like someone put your back through a meat grinder.

“It’s fine,” he said. “You need stitches.”

Why’d you have to cover me like that?

You heard him move around to grab the first aid kit, handing you a flask.

“It’s gonna take a while,” he said. He dabbed a alcohol soaked cotton ball along the claw mark the werewolf had left, pain radiating through you briefly as you squeezed your knees to your chest.

I’m sorry. I know it hurts. I’ll try to go fast.

You winced the first time you felt the needle pull through your skin, a shaky breath leaving you as Dean worked quietly.

Well...his mind wasn’t quiet.

He alternated between thinking he should have gotten hurt, should have protected you better, shouldn’t be making rookie hunter mistakes anymore. There was one comment about how your pretty bra had blood on it and that was his fault too.

“When we get home, Cas can heal me, Dean. I just need a quick fix, nothing fancy back there,” you said with a smile over your shoulder.

I don’t want to feel better so stop trying, Y/N.

“I think there was half a cherry pie in the fridge back home,” you said, Dean still working away.

Who cares.

“Hey, would you mind helping me with organizing a few things in the storage room tomorrow? I could use a pair of strong hands,” you said.

I see your subtly Y/N and screw you for letting it work.

“Sure,” he said, forcing his voice to be lighter.

“Dean,” you said, bending your arm back to catch his wrist.

Shit. She’s gonna give me another one of those talks.

“Thanks for stitching me up,” you said.

That was...different than what normally happens.

“No problemo,” he said, a strange smile on his face.

Dean’s mind quieted down on the way home, less angry with himself and actually laughing at a few corny dad jokes you’d told him a thousand times before. You tried your best to ignore the stray thought he had about you and hoped when you got up the next day, everything would be back to normal.

Except it was worse.

At breakfast you figured out you’d only been catching about half of Dean’s thoughts before, a constant stream of them filling your head as you put a breakfast together.

Your fucking legs, Y/N. How the fuck do you just walk around in a t-shirt and underwear in a house full of guys and not think you don’t drive at least one of us fucking crazy. Not that I’m complaining but fuck, you’re gonna give me a boner at the breakfast table again.

“What!” you said, lifting your head up, Dean staring at his plate.

“What?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Just eat your breakfast,” you mumbled, hopping up on the counter to eat your cereal.

Well thanks for the show. Not like I was trying not to get a boner or...damn it. Fucking dick with a mind of it’s own...well it does have a head...no that’s not funny...well...

You saw him giggle to himself, your legs firmly crossed as he continued to eat, resting a hand over his sweats.

Okay, dick, now would be a great time to stop getting hard. I’m not fourteen anymore you know. I don’t just get hard cause I see a girl and Y/N’s hot and everything but I have self control and dick I said stop it!

Dean adjusted himself in his seat, turning his body away from you, glaring at his lap.

Thanks for that asshole. She totally knows you’re up this morning....I can pass you off as morning wood if she says anything. That’s what I’ll do. She won’t say anything though. She wouldn’t. She’s sweet, she says...don’t think about her lips and we’re thinking about her lips and dick stop fucking twitching! I’m not gonna touch you because you’re getting horny thinking about the way those lips would...argh!

“Do you have a boner?” you asked, deciding if you were going to be forced to listen to Dean’s fantasties you could have some fun along the way.

This is all your fault and your stupid...she doesn’t want you so stop wanting her you jackass!

“Uh, morning wood,” said Dean, completely turning his back to you. “It happens. Sorry.”

See? I have to apologize for you and your stupid dick brain and I swear if you start...precome? Really? I just put these boxers on!

“Oh don’t apologize. It’s just your body doing it’s thing,” you said, Dean squirming in your seat.

I’m almost forty so get down now before I...

Dean dropped his head as you heard him think about you down on your knees and you’d had enough.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” you said, rushing out of there before you heard more.

“Dean, you ready to help with that stuff?” you asked, poking your head in his room an hour later.

“Yeah,” he said, humming as he followed you into the hall.

Leggings? Your tight black...shit those are your workout ones too that make your...stop thinking about her ass Winchester. Why am I so horny anyways? Gah, I need to get laid tonight.

You tossed Dean a pair of work gloves, pointing out what boxes needed to go where and which had to be gone through.

Hearing his thoughts this morning had been a little funny but now it was like all he ever thought about you was sex and it was starting to piss you off.

“How come you’ve never made a move on me?” you asked.

Oh fuck. Lie like your life depends on it.

“Not my type,” said Dean, still working away.

That was awful. Of course you’re my damn type. You’re my damn girl.

“I’m what?” you asked.

“Not my type,” said Dean. “I’m not into you like that.”

I’m going to hell for this this. Again. You’re better off without me and we both know it, sweetheart. Just let it go.

“Whatever,” you said, glaring at his back before heading to the library. You came back ten minutes later, muttering a spell but still able to hear Dean in your head. “Fuck me!”

“You want me to what?” he said, spinning around, nearly dropping the box in his hands.

Does she want to...no bad idea, bad idea. Get the hell out of here at all costs.

“You are not running away you randy asshole,” you said, throwing your arm over the doorway.

I don’t have a...no boner in sight. How would she...why the fuck are you looking at me like that?

“Because I can’t get you out of my head,” you said, Dean taking a step back.

Does she...she wants that too? I can’t. It’s hard enough to keep her safe as just friends. We can’t do more.

“Yes we can,” you said.

I know I didn’t say that and why the hell is she staring like...you’ve been weird the past two days...

“No, I haven’t,” you said, Dean’s eyes widening.

No. No. You can’t read my mind.

“Unfortunately, I can,” you said.

For how fucking long!

“Since I woke up yesterday,” you said, Dean groaning.

Please tell me you didn’t-

“Yeah, apparently you and your dick think about me a lot,” you said.

Well you’re gorgeous so excuse me!

“Sorry,” he said, running a hand over his face. “I uh...don’t normally think about sex all the time.”

“Yes you do,” you said.

“Okay, I think about it,” he said. “I think about other stuff too.”

“Like how I’m your girl,” you said, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not...” he said, dropping his head. “I should just stop talking because obviously you know the answers already.”

“Help me find a cure for this,” you said.

I’m sorry.

“Stop apologizing and help me, alright?” you said as you headed for the library.

“Sure,” he said, your hand catching his arm.

“We are having a serious discussion when this gets fixed.”

What if you aren’t cursed? What if you’ve got a superpower?

“I’m not fucking wonder woman, Dean,” you said, flipping through your tenth book of the day, tossing it on the ground.

I know you get mad but I’m sorry you’re stuck in my head. If I leave you alone you won’t have to put up with it, right?

“I’m staying in a motel tonight,” you said, grabbing a few books to bring. “Try to research and I’ll be back in the morning.”

You were laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, Dean’s thoughts still hitting you despite the distance.

He was having a nightmare that made your skin crawl, tears well up in your eyes, so much fear rushing through you and you weren’t even in it. It was like watching a dream from the sidelines, not able to help Dean in any way until he woke up.

Okay. Just a dream. Just a dream. Not real.

Dean had two more nightmares and a self-loathing session in the middle of the night that made you groan. It was like trying to sleep with someone talking about the worst things in their life straight in your ear.

Finally, finally, when you’d thought you got some shut eye, you heard him get up.

Fuck. Morning wood again?

You grabbed your phone and texted him immediately.

“Don’t you dare jerk off,” you typed out, his voice echoing in your head almost instantly.

You still hear me?

“Yes, I do,” you typed, Dean chuckling in his head. “Stop thinking about your cock and-”

If I don’t do anything, it’s just going to stick around and make me think worse things. It’s better if I just deal with it now.

“Fine. Just don’t...think about me,” you typed, laying back with a groan.

You’re only listening to everything I think so I’m sure that’ll work out wonderful...dammit.

“You think about me when you get off, don’t you,” you typed.

In case the past two days haven’t made it obviously clear, I like you and I’m attracted to you and like you’ve never thought about a guy while you got off...No text? Must be nice to be able to have a little bit of privacy.

“Yeah, I have. He wasn’t listening in though,” you typed.

I’m positive he would have thought it was hot. I’m a guy. We’re easily turned on like that.

“Just jerk yourself off already,” you typed.

I’ve never done this with a mind audience before if you’ll excuse me.

“Work your cock over already so we can get back to researching,” you typed.

You could tell Dean was trying his hardest to make his mind go blank but the second he started touching himself, it was like someone was blasting porn in the room.

Soft little groans turned into grunts and then things got weird.

It went dead silent for a good few minutes. So quiet in fact, you thought whatever was going on had suddenly corrected itself.

“Oh thank god that’s over with,” you said.

What the fuck did you just say?

No. Dean did not just...

Yes. Dean did just hear that. You’re in my head now too?

Get out of my head!

You had an orgasm and now I have to deal with this?

Well why don’t you have one and see if that fixes it.

Over my dead body.

You just listened to me.

Sort of. You mostly made noises and it got quiet.

Yeah. So?

Because I’m going to end up thinking about you...I did NOT mean it like that.

Do you like me?

Yes now stop listening to me!

Don’t be shy then. Sweetheart, it’s-

He cut off mid sentence, laughing to himself.

Fuck. We’re idiots. Go check your coat for a hex bag. I just found one.

I thought I already did.

Your phone rang, Dean repeating himself again.

“Just burn it. I don’t hear you anymore,” said Dean.

“Well then a witch put it there,” you said, fishing around your jacket, coming up with a purple bag. You tossed it in a trashcan and flicked a match at it. “Hopefully that gets us back to normal.”

“We need to head back out to that town and track down the witch that put it there in the first place,” said Dean.

“I’ll swing back to the bunker in ten.”

On the bright side, the witch was easy to find. On the other hand, you and Dean hadn’t spoken a word since dealing with her.

“We should crash for the night,” said Dean. “It’s late.”

“I can’t believe you let her off with a warning,” you said.

“She’s a teenager goofing around. She knows there’s no second chances if she pulls anything again,” said Dean, pulling into the motel you’d stayed in earlier in the week.

“It’s only a two hour drive,” you said.

“I’m tired,” said Dean, climbing out, slamming the door shut. You grabbed the bags as he got a room, settling into your normal end of the day routine, taking a shower after him, sighing that you forgot to pack fresh clothes again.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” you asked, walking to his duffel in your towel, Dean sighing behind you. “Thinking about my ass again?”

“I’m thinking you’re putting on a show to see if I’m brave enough to go for it this time,” he said.

“Or I just want a shirt,” you said.

“Or it’s what I said,” he said. You turned around, hands on your hips, Dean silently staring back. “You’ve been in my head, Y/N. You already know I’m not brave.”

“What you think and what are facts are two different things, Dean,” you said, going back to his bag. You grabbed a shirt and looked back over your shoulder. You pulled the shirt down on top of you, hitting you mid thigh before you reached under and undid your towel.

“Goodnight,” you said, walking to your bed and climbing on top.

“You are the definition of a cock tease,” he said.

“I’m waiting,” you said, uncrossing your legs.

“I’m not having sex,” he said.

“I’m waiting for you to be brave, Dean,” you said, turning your head. “You are. So ask for what you want and you can have it because I want it too.”

Dean stood up so fast you weren’t sure for moment what he was going to do.

“Dean,” you mumbled, Dean grunting behind you. “Get your boner out of my back.”

“This is what happens when you wear my shirt to bed,” he said, shifting back but rolling you over with him. “Good morning by the way.”

“Yeah, it is,” you said, Dean smiling as he looked you over.

“You’re pretty,” he said quietly.

“So are you,” you said, Dean rolling his eyes. “Let’s get dressed. I’m taking you on a coffee date.”

“Lucky me,” he said.

“You really think that?” you asked, Dean groaning as you smirked. “You laid it up so perfect I just had to.”

“You’re going to have to trust me on this one, sweetheart,” he said, grabbing your hand when you flung back the covers. “Five more minutes.”

“Let’s make it ten,” you said, Dean smirking as he pulled the covers back down. “What happened to slow?”

“Oh don’t worry. I’m gonna go slow,” he teased, fingers playing with the bottom of his shirt. “As slow as we want.”

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

@baconlover001 @emilymorgan1994 @jensenackesl @captainemwinchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @xfanqirlinq @anokhi07 @akshi8278 @fandom--shipper @xxwinchester-22xx

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