#this is... 3377 words.

[blugnettabutterflies]

Waiting room.

Spoilers from Season 5, Case 52.

( @ccornersstone hehe)

Waiting rooms are something that a lot of people call a surreal kind of experience, from the moment they walk in to the moment they get out, depending on their experience. Each person who enters that place feels a sensation or emotion, and those are usually multiplied by a hundred. Whether it is anxiety, fear, happiness, dread… sometimes anger and joy are mixed together into a mess that no one can truly understand. All of them cope in different ways, some pace around the room, some overthink, some are trying to keep calm, and some pray. Others just shut down and feel nothing.

Others, is a mix of two or three. And others are just everything at once.

The only feeling that bring all the strangers together, is the feeling of ambiguity. An uncertain sensation, where you can just wait and hope for the best outcome.

That’s the same feeling Gloria, Gabriel, Amir and Player were feeling inside of that waiting room.

It’s only been a few minutes since they last knew about their partner. For all of them, it feels like hours. Eternal hours.

They all remember the moment vividly. He is up, then he is on the ground, and someone is calling 911. The ambulance came while someone was giving air to him on mouth-to-mouth technique, and that person was pushed away by the paramedics, so they can do what they have to do.

The rest is a blur. Some went on a car, and one of them went on an ambulance.

Gabriel remembers having the pill bottle in his hand, and still can’t wrap his head around it.

Gloria remembers driving, and still can’t wrap her head around it.

Amir and Player are in the back of the car, and both still can’t wrap their head around it.

Getting in the hospital was also a blur. They don’t remember when they got out of their respective car, and ran to the hospital. They don’t remember the time, or who they talked to. They don’t even remember the day, if it was tomorrow or yesterday.

But there they are, at the waiting room. And yet they can’t still wrap their head around what happened.

----

Amir is pacing around. He knows that if he sits down, his leg will start trembling. He is thinking and thinking of every outcome possible.

“He will be okay, there’s a chance that the overdose wouldn’t be so bad. It was just respiratory depression, no slow heartbeat…”

Or maybe the heart palpitations were getting slower when the ambulance came. He doesn’t remember if the person giving the respiratory procedure stopped before. He doesn’t remember how many minutes he was left without air.

Respiratory depression over an overdose can cause brain damage. Benzodiazepines can cause multiple organ failure, and can kill you fast, depending on the drug. And that depends of the time it lasts on the body, the action time, the lasting time...

He wasn’t in time. Just like with Rupert, he wasn’t there to stop it. All he could hear was his Chief yelling for someone to bring a gurney or an oxygen mask or something. He called 911. It’s all he could do. Giving shaky and very shocked answers, as he enters the room and sees his body, being surrounded by people he knew and talked with. He doesn’t remember what he said, but by the very blurred memory of it, he was as frantic as he was now. Maybe a lot more, he can’t tell.

He can’t lose another member. He can’t lose another friend. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he does it, with how much he knew about science and chemistry, he should have known about the chemical imbalance that the body has when they experience someone’s death. It destroys you. He knows it does, he has been there, he knows it first-hand.

Then why didn’t he see the same imbalance? Why didn’t he see that? He could have stopped it.

“This is not about you Amir not now, not now; he is right now being intubated. If the Benzodiazepines were pure, he can be given Flumazenil and will start breathing in due time. Its’ protocol, every 15 second it has to be given 0.1 milligrams of that until the minute passes. He will start breathing. He has to it's …”

The overdose. He could try to ask the doctor or whoever is at charge, once it’s due. Is he at the Emergency Room? Did he pass to the Intense Care Unit? He has to know this he is the Lab Chief. He should know this. He has to know if Gabriel’s medication doesn’t have an opioid involved.

Why he doesn’t know this? He has to know, because he would know what to do. And he thinks he knows what to do because he is okay. He is going to breathe; he is not declared dead yet. Not even when benzodiazepine overdose is one of the main causes on death in United states regarding suicide. Not even when organ failure can cause terrible consequences to his body, and that can result in death. Not even when even if he survives, there is a chance of brain damage. Even if it’s not as probably, but it can happen.

“He has to be okay. Right?” Is all he can think. But all of the outcomes are confusing. He can be alive, he can be dead right now, or in a few hours. Or he cannot talk with them anymore, or maybe he is in a comma where he is not going to ever wake up from, and he is a ventilator, forever. And they will have to say goodbye and disconnect. Or maybe he will not be like that, and will wake up, but in the mental exam he will be declared mentally unable, and will have to be out of the force, and being taken care of. Or maybe he will be okay, and act like nothing ever happened. Is that even possible?

All of those thoughts were mixed into a blender, he doesn’t know what the right answer is anymore. So, he can just walk, hoping those can organize it. Maybe he could call Jasper. Probably he has an answer.

Or maybe just to talk He wants to talk; his throat feels like it’s going to explode. But he is occupied, occupied at work, work that he was supposed to be there, and being useful not like here where he wasn’t and now his friend is being treated and they know anything about it. He can’t interrupt it. Can he?

No one sees it, but his eyes are full of tears. He is not speaking, nor yelling.

His train of thought is only interrupted when he trips as he tried to sit down because of Gloria who is still looking at the door, sitting. It’s all that she has been doing.

----

Looking. Looking everywhere. Looking at everyone.

She is waiting for someone to come out of there. No one has come out of there.

She is looking everywhere. Looking if someone can give her an answer as for why. If she missed a clue, or if someone is looking back, and tells them something they may have forgotten.

She was technically the newest in town, in relations of knowing him. Even Player had more knowledge.

But it feels like she met him for a while back, even if it was just a year ago. She knows how mad he can get when there’s injustice, how sad he could be when something hits him personally, and how irrational his actions sometimes are on a bad day… how many puns he can get he’s nervous and how bold and passionate he is towards his job, friends, love… everything. He is passionate.

Then when did she lose track at the moments, he stopped being passionate, when he became sadder, when he became angrier, and more irrational. Did anyone notice it at all?

She is supposed to be a mother. She is supposed to know where this kind of stuff happens, when suddenly someone changes their mood, meaning that there is something had happening. Then why didn’t she notice it?

She hopes she is able to see it on Carter because if she cant look at it on a grown man then-

“This is not about you Gloria, not now; maybe he just took a harsh decision?” Is all she tried to hope.

“What a stupid idea” it’s the next thought. A sudden decision. This is not a sudden decision. She has been taught the basics of depression, and depression is not sudden.

Its accumulation. Accumulation of feelings. And one day, they pop, they teach you that in courses to catch a teenager’s depression back in Chicago schools.

The moment was still fresh to her, she can still sees it. She was taking about Zoe, and suddenly he appeared. He should be with Gabriel. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He thanked everyone. His voice was cracking like glass and wobbly like jelly. He had eye bags from crying. His tie was untied, his hair looked like he just woke up from a nap.

And suddenly he had the pills. She didn’t react in time, when he said goodbye, saying how worthless he was, when he downed tall of the pills at once, and swallowed them all without even drinking water. (“Why is water so important now?”)

And at the brink of a moment, he was on the ground, with a loud thump. He probably has a bad bruise of that, no one was able to hold him. He fell flat. Chief Parker also saw it, and suddenly went to see his pulse.

There was a pulse. There was no breathing. His mouth was open and un-responsible. She has the idea of the hospital, and saw his chest wasn’t moving, but aside of that, she didn’t know what to do.

She only obeyed orders. Orders of activating a protocol, and waiting for the ambulance to come, as Parker yelled for someone to call 911. She saw how many people were entering the room, and how many were going in and out. It was all in stop motion, as she was slowly walking to the entrance of the precinct to wait for the ambulance to come, so she can guide them to the room.

Looking, waiting. It’s all she could do. Even now.

She is the only one who looks at the clock. She is the only one who knows the track of time. Carter is probably at her house by now, or he is walking there. He will be alone, probably for the rest of the day… maybe even night. Maybe her ex-husband will take care of him. She hasn’t told him that she is still at work. Is she even at work right now? This doesn’t feel like work.

She has to tell him. Yet she feels stuck.

There is more work to do. They still have no answer as for why Zoe was “levitating stuff” given by her killer’s word. What a stupid and selfish motive. For the news. To gain a star in the hall of fame.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid. She only could look at how stupid that stupid motive from that stupid person was. And yet she has to investigate that. She has to talk with him. She and Player. Both together have to ask.

She wonders how her Chief is doing. She didn’t want to go, because she had to still fill a protocol. “Work issues, I’ll meet you there later" were her words, but something tells her that she wanted to come. She is probably in her room. Maybe she is not phased? She looked worried.

Maybe she was. And has to push that away, for the sake of the job.

This job sucks. Sometimes, it does suck.

She looks again, this time to confirm If her seat mate was there. He’s still there, same position as he positioned himself ever since they got there.

Correction. Physically, he was there. Mentally , he was long gone.

-----

When the rest of the group were at the hospital, they already saw Gabriel seated at the chair. He was looking at the ground. He didn’t have the pill bottle in hand. But his hand gestures looked like he had them.

His last words were while seated in that chair. He said with a steady voice that he was admitted at the emergency room, and he had to stay there. That was the last time he looked to the rest, before giving a big sigh, and looking down.

His muscles are not hurting by the position of it, which is good and at the same time, bad. Good because it doesn’t hurt.

Bad because his back was actually hurting. But his mind was so immersed into a mind work world, that he couldn't feel it anymore.

His palms are open together, at times turning into a praying position. He is not so sure if he’s religious, or if anybody in that room is, but he found himself some solace into believing that some powerful superior sense would help them out, even if it’s a little push.

Maybe this is why he was acting so on line at the cult. Maybe he was used to this. He was able to trick his mind into it, believing in something that doesn’t have facts.

But that's only because that's something he can control. And this situation is something that got out of his control. He had it in control, he was supposed to control it.

Ever since he found himself comforting him at the psych hospital, while keeping him away from the body of his deceased loved one, he knew that he had to be in control of this.

He had to. He was he one capable to medicate him enough so he would stop crying and would rest his aching body.

He had to pay attention to it multiple times. He slipped up one time and suddenly he was in the main room, promising to bring hell upon the killer, grabbing someone’s collar to the point of breaking down. He had to be more careful and more in control than ever.

So it wasn’t a surprised that his panic heavily increased when he found that his medicine cabinet was open.

And his pills weren't there.

It was only a matter to connect the dots to realize what the screaming was about second later.

He just went to the bathroom.

He tried to look for the empty bottle, on the ground. And he froze when he found it. Because it's all he could do. Freeze, while thinking how out of control this situation got, and that he has no power to change things drastically like with a pill to calm the nervous system.

He is supposed to be the calm one, and he is showing it. But his mind is screaming, yelling that he is not prepared enough that he let the moment go. Those thoughts didn’t go away, not when the ambulance came, nor when he was sitting and answering the questions, nor when he passed the empty bottle and stayed outside waiting for the rest.

When he studied psychology, and got himself to be a profiler, it was so he could be unprepared for everything. Every symptom is measurable, every change into their behavior can be put into a criteria. And you can learn the criteria, and know what to do because you became prepared.

But he didn’t know what to do.

"This is not about you, Gabriel. But it's your fault if he dies."

Everyone has some fault. He showed so many signs, so many events where they could have prevented it. So many criteria fitting into Major depression. The loneliness feeling, the irrational thinking, the despair and possible suicidal thoughts… all in more than 6 months.

Was there overeating? He does… all the time unless…

Everything was there. He didn’t see it, and it was RIGHT THERE.

He can sense his body growing tense by the minute, how all of the guilty thoughts were increasing in his mind, how he could have prevented it. He knew that Benzodiazepines take away the 4th Phase of REM sleep, he knew that he would get cranky and irritable, why did he keep giving them?! Why he left to the bathroom knowing that Gloria and Player found out who killed her?! Why he didn’t lock the cabinet AND WHY SINCE HE KNEW HE KNOWS LOCK PICKING HE KEPT THE PILLS AT THE CABINET AND BOT WITH HIM WHY WHY WHY-?!

“David Jones?”

Suddenly his ear senses come back. And just in time. Everyone heard it.

“David Jones?!” the voice sounds again.

Amir stops his pace, and Gloria looks. Gabriel tries to compose himself, and gets up. He is the controlled one. He is the one at the ambulance, who told everything.

So he is the one who will know what happened. While he walks, he sees Player, making what it appears to be, a call.

----

He can only imagine how Player is feeling. They both know each other for a while. More than anyone else in that room.

And yet, Player wasn’t able to see the signs, like him. The sudden signs. He bets that Player feels guilty.

Player is just at the phone, and is looking at the door. Is calling someone, probably one of his parents. Probably Ramirez, so he could know the news?

Is it even good to call like that? He can still turn out ok, probably the dose he took wasn’t that bad. Gabriel is hopeful.

Not the same can be said of Player. They are indeed calling someone. It’s all they have been doing. Calling, acting, trying to keep themselves on the ground.

Is all they can do. When was having his anger moments, or sad moments, or moments he could joke at the job, they were the anchor to keep him on the ground. It worker with him, it worked with Gloria, Rita, Amir, everyone. It was always them. The one who had to act up, the one who couldn’t shed tears at the very moment.

And yet there they were. Trying to keep themselves on the ground, because they knew that they were tearing up. Trying to this time, act up, not like last time, that they didn’t yanked the pills away, nor grabbed him when he was falling, or giving the breathing technique. Chief Parker did that. Not them. All they could think, just like the other 2… 3 times… Is trying to keep themselves collected because they were at work.

But this wasn’t work. Unlike Gloria, Player is sure of it. This can't be work.

But they cant cry. They cant bring themselves to tears when at any moment they would have to run, if he needs help or if he needs an antidote.

They don’t remember the name of he antidote. They don’t know the name.

They should have known better. It’s what some person, some young psychology student once said. He's a kettle boiling up. They knew they could explode. But didn’t know how. They should have know, when kettles boil you have the chance to turn off the fire before it runs out of water, and the metal starts melting, damaging itself.

That teenager was right. The whole time. And they didn’t listen.

Someone answered to Player’s call, and that someone is getting the news. That someone is freaking out. Is asking with panic how did his happen? No one truly knows.

Yet Player still gives the rundown. And the person tells them to keep them updated, still sounding like they will cry at the ambiguity.

Player stops the call, giving a long sigh.

Worse case scenario.

“This is not about you, Player. Control yourself, you have to make a solution. Because he is not fine. He is dying. This is about him.”

Another long sigh, and comes back to the group.

At the same times, Gabriel comes back as well from talking to the doctor. His face doesn’t inspire hope.

“I’ve spoken to the doctors about Jones condition…”

...

"And it's not good."

...

Worst Case Scenario.

He’s not getting out of the door.

We are running out of time.

This is the 2nd time you didn’t stop it.

...

... this is all your fault.

[wonryllis]

ʬʬ. ! LAST FRIDAY NIGHT ﹙ THINK WE KISSED ﹚

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. park jongseong with fem!reader 𖥔 ݁ enemies but secretly in love and oblivious, fluff. LIB? word count `3377 warnings. lots of cursing! unedited.

JAY VER: mutual hate f2e JAKE VER. SUNGHOON VER.

"what the fuck, piggy!" you feel jay's feet against the side of the waist before his voice reaches your ears. kicked out of bed and rolled onto the floor, that's how your mornings with jay start.

"what the hell is this!" he shouts again and when you turn to look at him you find yourself questioning the same,"what the hell is that!" a litter of pretty lipstick marks all over him, collarbones to neck to jaw to face. and keyword: lips.

"you tell me! what the hell does it look like?" if it were some other time you'd have laughed your ass off at the horrified look on his face, but the very familiar shade of color on him, the one you always wear because you're quite literally obsessed with it has you horrified as well at the realization. there's no way you did that, with park jay? no no no.

"don't tell me we-"

"i have my boxers on and you're still in that ugly fucking dress so no we did not," his words are like a shower of relief to you. however to jay, it is also something else. sure he is glad you did not do anything but that dress you have on? it's not ugly, it is everything but ugly. you look so pretty in it, like a doll and he thinks it's probably the reason why he let you kiss him all up.

"you better have something to say because i don't understand how this happened," his hands rub over the marks he can see while you sit on the floor trying to remember last night. you went to a college party, and you met jay there, and having the same group of mutual friends you remember playing drinking games. a shot of tequila when you refused to kiss jay for a dare and that's where your memory fails you.

"i don't remember," you say simply, watching jay get of bed and into the bathroom.

"i don't either so let's just call it truce and forget,"

sighing in resignation, you take a look around the room, going over to the mirror to scan yourself. there under the shadow of your ear you spot something purple, a touch and it hurt. pushing your hair out of the way, you take a closer look at it. pupils dilating upon the realization that it's a hickey. with a mortified look in your eyes, you pull down at the collar of your dress to find more. a litter of it mirroring jay's kiss marks. and when you shift on your legs to inspect the other side of your neck, you feel a sting on the skin of your thighs. no way no way please no. you pray as you lift the skirt of your dress, but it's all in vain for you find bruises on the plush of your thighs, in the shapes of handprints, one on each.

you scream. you scream scream and jay is rushing out with a towel hanging low on his waist,"what! what happened!"

there's no time to feel the heat in your cheeks at sight of his naked figure, you are too traumatized by the possibilities of the events that could have happened between you two to even acknowledge the pounding of your heart on noticing the droplets of water cascading down the valley of his chest.

you show him what you had to see and in comes a scream from him.

"oh my god, fuck off before we find more things!"

"missy piggy is all dressed up," he looked you up once, coming to a halt just a step away from where you sat at the kitchen counter turned bar. he couldn't deny you looked good though, he almost lost his breath when he spotted you across the room. there were some loopholes in this weird relationship you had and he couldn't seem to accept it. he found you attractive and he was disgusted with himself for that. out of all the fishes in the sea it just had to be you. his little weakness, the pretty dress.

you wave your hand at his face,"whatever," jay doesn't like the way you just dismiss him, closing in on you blocking your view of whichever guy you were eyeing. whichever guy was hot enough to have your attention away from him.

"you wanna play some games?" his hand goes over to circle the top of your cup, noticing the orange juice in there.

"what game?"

"truth and dare, all our friends are gathering there to play," he wasn't interested to join earlier, but watching you fixated on some guys is itching him to take you away and get your ass busy.

hours later and he's in a circle, all drunk sitting right across you. 'kiss kiss kiss!" the chants go around with the bottle stopped right between your two. if he'd been sober, he would've left the second someone proposed for a kiss but with his mind all hazy right now, all he can think about is how your lips would feel on his. if the pretty shade on them would taste as sweet as they look.

to say he was disappointed when you chose to drink it out would be an understatement. jay felt no more purpose in the game, leaving as soon as you excused yourself. with your wobbly steps you sway your way to the dance floor, almost falling over yourself before jay has his hands around you, keeping you afloat.

"watch your step, pretty," he whispers into your ear.

"pretty? what happened to piggy?" there is a slight flinch in you when you whisper back, growing conscious of the proximity.

"piggies can be pretty sometimes," his hands move lower to your hips, gripping lightly as the music changes to one of sensual hues. body moving together to the sultry notes.

"we're dancing," turning to face the rather drunk boy, you trace a finger over the exposed skin of his chest. jay's sure you can feel the fast thumping of his heart under your pretty little soft tips but honestly he couldn't care less right now. the alcohol in his brain messing with his feelings. a mushy daze of everything he's ever felt for you, from middle school to college.

"together," you breathe out staring at the plump of his lips and jay feels this weird sparkling thing where his stomach twists and turns but in a good way,"apparently," all these people around, so many attractive faces he could have latched onto yet he can't imagine himself swaying away with anyone else, it just feels wrong for some reason.

"and we hate each other," the reminder is like a fresh breeze across his fuzzy mind, no matter where he looks he can't seem to feel the hatred right now,"mhm," jay reaches out with a delicate touch, watching your dazed eyes in a trance as you scan him, muzzling into his hand when he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear in a faint caress. after that it's a silence between you two, not the one where you usually think of ripping each other's hair off but perhaps one where you're thinking to eating each other's face off. at least that's all jay can think about.

you were drunk and he should have seen it coming. at some point you leave him hanging in the middle of the floor only for him to find you amidst a crowd of screams, letting it all loose on an elevated platform with a pole, right towards the front. twerking your ass off and instead of being embarrassed out of his wits jay rather feels this warm fluffy feeling. a conjured up image of a sober him driving to bars and clubs to pick up a drunk you as you shout 'baby' while running into his arms.

no what the fuck, what am i thinking. he is baffled at his own imagination. enemies to lovers trope is so not his thing. it should never be his thing. right?

"come on you need some fresh air," spotting a few guys eyeing you in the wrong way, jay is quite literally picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder before walking out the house into the backyard.

"i was having so much fun there! why did you bring me out here!" you shout, still feeling the loud music ringing in your ears.

"you were having too much fun, you needed to touch some grass," he tries shushing you, flicking lightly at your forehead.

you ignore him, too tired and used to, to bicker back,"there's a pool here?" the excitement in your voice makes him laugh, y'all have probably been sitting here for five minutes, and you've only noticed the big ass pool now. but well, with the amount of alcohol you both have in your system right now it's a miracle you're still conscious and otherwise a little sane.

"why, you wanna skinny dip?" he knows that's exactly what you would want to do, if you could. he hasn't known you for ten years for just nothing. all those fights and bickerings and make ups, he's sure he knows you more than your friends and more than you know yourself. and he's always followed you whenever you weren't following him. doing everything you did just to get a chance at annoying you.

"can we go in there?" no.

tonight he'd like to stay dry and cozy.

"it's cold, i ain't doing this," he reprimands, squinting his eyes in the distance, a look away from you to tell you he's not having it.

however it's not like you listen anyway, at least not to him.

it's like second nature at this point, running after you. be it to get on your nerves or to secretly protect you,"piggy!" he snaps up at once at the sound of you skipping down the patio. albeit almost slipping and cracking your head open on the way. jay doesn't know if he should be worried more about ending up in the hospital or getting in there with you all wet and close.

he's been in the pool with girls before but he's not been in the pool with you since you were like eleven and friends and not hit by puberty yet, in your ugly loose swim shirts and pants, hair all over in a mess with no idea about romance.

"slow down will you, i can't be bothered to drive you to medics if you break a leg or something," he whines, feeling the water soaking up the clothes against his skin as he carefully walks down the stairs leading into the pool. two steps behind with his hand reaching out to steady you incase you decide to slip again.

"try to catch me!" you yell, putting in all efforts to move as far from him as you could.

"do i look like i need to try?" his hands loop around your wrists in a moment, pulling you against his chest is a low splash. arms going around the waist as he locks eyes with yours. the palm of your hands find refuge on his chest playing with the undone buttons when the hard pounding of his heart reverberates against your skin. you're nervous, he's nervous.

"why do you hate me?" he asks.

"because you do," you answer and jay's confused. what?

"why do you hate me?" you ask him. and as expected,"because you do,"

realizing it's all a big misunderstanding, jay can't help but feel his heart race faster if that is even possible,"i don't really hate you," the pout on your lips falters his gaze, looking down to avoid his breath stopping right there and then. "neither do i," a low whisper, softly adjusting the fallen strap of your dress. he scans you over once, his little weakness, the pretty dress. no, it's you, you always know what to wear have him weak in the knees.

"your lipstick is pretty-" you look so damn pretty he wants to say, brown orbs lingering on the shine radiating off your lips.

you're both drunk, and it's probably the only time he'll be able to say it. i can do it! jay swears.

however before he can even utter a syllable, the slippery gloss of your cherry lipstick slide against his lips. feeling the plush of your lips pressing onto his own, like a step into heaven. eyes open and motionless, taking a hard time to let it sink in while you're there moving your lips, catching his bottom lip between in a gentle bite.

"pi- piggy-" when you pull away for a split second only to jump onto him, his hands immediately grabbing the back of your thighs resting them around him, trembling at the tension he feels to dive right back in to a kiss.

"shut up," you begin leaving a trail of marks starting at his neck—

that's where you scream, pulling jay out of the flashbacks. he sits on his bed, tracing his lips in a trance after you've left. he had no idea how to face you after remembering all that while you still seemed to have no clue. how he knows your lipstick tastes sweet and bitter and how you don't know that he knows that.

he takes out his phone, a faint memory of a picture. searching through his gallery is not even necessary, on the top in a grand glory he finds the photo of you perched on his lap on his bed, head tucked into his neck where one can definitely catch glimpse of your fluttering kisses.

he can't seem to recall about the hickeys on your neck, and how you got to his room. but he's sure he will in a few days. hoping you'd too until then.

for now he'll post this. there's nothing better than getting under your skin. figuratively and literally.

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 21/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 3377

A/N: This is part 21 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, the tumult of emotions swirling within you threatened to overwhelm you. Jay's presence in your life had brought moments of joy and comfort, but now faced with the prospect of intimacy, you found yourself grappling with feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

Your mind wandered back to Ben, his absence palpable yet his memory hauntingly present. Could you truly move forward with someone else, knowing the lingering shadow of Ben hung over you?

The sound of Jay's voice outside the bathroom door broke through your reverie, a reminder of the present moment and the person waiting on the other side. Part of you longed to confide in him, to share the inner turmoil consuming you, but another part hesitated, fearing his reaction and the potential fallout of your honesty.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?". His tone was gentle, laced with concern. "You seem… off. Is there something you want to talk about?".

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Jay's genuine concern only served to amplify the turmoil within you. How could you explain the maelstrom of emotions churning inside your chest without delving into the depths of your past?

"I'm… I'm fine", you replied, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Just… dealing with some things".

There was a moment of silence before Jay spoke again, his tone softer now, filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you".

His words tugged at something deep within you, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

"I know", you murmured. "I just… need some time to sort things out".

You stepped out of the bathroom, your eyes red.

"C´mere", he whispered.

Feeling Jay’s arms envelop you in a comforting embrace, you let out a shaky breath, momentarily finding solace in his warmth. But his next words shattered the fragile calm that had settled over you.

“I just… I can’t shake this feeling”, Jay murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he held you close. “It’s like… I’m all in, you know? But sometimes it feels like you’re… not as committed to this as I am. I know we haven't been together that long, but it feels like you don't really want the whole thing”.

His words hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken tensions simmering beneath the surface of your relationship. You swallowed hard, the guilt of withholding your true feelings threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice tinged with regret. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s just… complicated”.

Jay pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours for answers. “Complicated how?”, he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes urged you to be honest.

“There’s… someone else”, you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Was someone else, I… I don´t know. It´s someone from my… past, I guess. And I… I’m still trying to figure out what that means for me… for us”.

Jay’s expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “I see”, he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “I guess I always knew there was something more”.

You reached out to touch his arm, a silent plea for understanding. “It’s not that I don’t care about you”, you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s just… complicated”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your confession hanging heavily between you.

Feeling Jay’s gaze fixed on you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to share a glimpse of the tangled web that had ensnared your heart.

“We had… a connection, a deep one. But things didn’t end well”.

Jay listened intently, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And now”, you whispered, the words barely “now I’m here, with you. But… but part of me still feels tied to him, to what we had”.

Jay looked down at you, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of compassion and uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're ready for a new relationship?", he asked. "I mean, if part of you still feels tied to him… it's okay to take more time to figure things out".

Your heart ached at his words, the truth of his question hitting you with a force you hadn't anticipated. Were you truly ready to move on, to fully commit to a new relationship?

You shrugged, unable to meet Jay's gaze as a pang of guilt washed over you. "I don't know", you admitted. "I want to be, but… it's hard".

A flicker of hurt crossed Jay's features at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly as he struggled to mask his disappointment. "I understand", he said quietly, though the pain in his eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings. "I just… I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you… for us".

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to ease the ache you had caused. "I'm sorry", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to hurt you".

Jay enveloped you again in a gentle embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of your own indecision. "It's okay", he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. "We'll figure it out together, okay?".

And as you clung to him, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on you.

With everything swirling in your mind, you felt as though you were losing yourself in the chaos. The person you once knew, the one who had made promises and believed in love, seemed like a distant memory now.

After letting yourself in with Ben, you were pretending to be someone you weren't. And now, with Jay, you had thrown yourself into a new relationship, hoping to find solace in his kindness and affection. But in the process, you were hurting him, and the realization cut you to the core.

As Jay held you close, offering comfort and understanding despite the turmoil within you, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at your insides. How could you continue to deceive him, to pretend that everything was fine when you were barely holding yourself together?

More tears welled in your eyes as you buried your face in Jay's chest, seeking refuge from the storm raging within you. "I don't know who I am anymore", you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jay held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. "It's okay", he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "We'll figure it out together. Just… be honest with me, okay? That's all I ask".

You nodded against his chest.

Jay held you close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently brushed his hand over your back, soothing the ache that had settled deep within you.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "When was the last time you visited your mom, or your family? Or at least met with some friends?".

His question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the isolation that had gradually encroached upon your life in recent weeks. You thought back, trying to recall the last time you had reached out to anyone outside of your interactions with Jay, but the memory eluded you.

"I… I don't know", you admitted. "It's been a while. I've been so caught up in everything… I guess I lost track of time".

Jay's embrace tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the loneliness that had crept into your life unnoticed. "Maybe… maybe it's time to reach out to them. They care about you, you know?".

Again you nodded against his chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

Jay pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Come on", he said softly, his voice tender as he gently pulled away from your embrace. "Let's go back to the living room".

As you settled back onto the couch, Jay wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close as if to reassure himself of your presence. His touch was gentle, yet persistent, as he continued to brush his hand over your arm in a comforting gesture.

With each stroke, a sense of calm washed over you, the weight of your worries momentarily lifted by Jay's unwavering affection. Just like it has been for the last few weeks.

As you nestled into his embrace, Jay let out a soft sigh, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I think… I think you need to figure out your feelings", he murmured, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't want to push you into anything, but… I really like you. And… and I do not want to lose you. Whether as a girlfriend or just a friend".

His admission hung in the air, a vulnerable confession of his own desires and fears. You turned to look at him, finding solace in the warmth of his gaze as he continued.

"So maybe… maybe we can take it slow", Jay suggested, his voice tentative yet hopeful. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can just… see where things go".

His words resonated within you, a gentle reminder that healing and growth often came with time and patience. You nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over you as you leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you", you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For understanding".

Jay smiled softly, his fingers kept tracing soothing circles on your arm. "Always", he replied. "I'm here for you, no matter what".

In the days that followed, Jay and you spent countless hours talking, sharing stories, and getting to know each other on a deeper level. His presence became a source of comfort and stability, grounding you in the midst of uncertainty.

With each conversation, you felt pieces of yourself falling back into place, like a puzzle slowly being reassembled. Jay's patience and understanding gave you the space to explore your feelings and rediscover the person you once were.

One day, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and belonging, you suggested visiting the team again. Jay readily agreed, eager to meet the people who had played such a significant role in your life.

After introducing Jay to the others, everyone told you about the latest events, gave you an update on Homelander, and told you what it was like in the executive suite at Vought. Despite the distance and time apart, the bond you shared with them remained as strong as ever.

As the evening stretched on, you found yourselves gathered at a cozy bar with Hughie, Annie and Jay. Annie told you about her temporary leading position at vought.

You listened with admiration as she described the challenges and triumphs of her new role, marveling at her resilience and determination. Despite the pressures she faced, Annie seemed to thrive in the leadership position.

Meanwhile, Jay struck up a conversation with Hughie, the two of them quickly hitting it off. They exchanged stories and shared laughs, bonding over their mutual interests and experiences. You watched with a smile as Jay's easygoing charm drew Hughie out of his shell, the two of them becoming fast friends.

After a while, Annie led you to the bar to get some new drinks, the lively chatter of Hughie and Jay faded into the background, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you waited for the bartender to take your order, Annie leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"So, what's the deal with you and Jay?", she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have to say, I really like him. You've definitely hit a good one".

You smiled weakly, grateful for Annie's support but unable to shake the weight of your own uncertainty. "He's great", you admitted, your voice tinged with hesitation. "But… I'm still trying to figure things out".

Annie nodded in understanding, her expression sympathetic. "I get it", she said softly. "But just know that Jay really cares about you. And if anyone can help you through whatever you're going through, it's him".

You sighed, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know", you murmured, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart. "I just wish things weren't so… complicated".

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she leaned in closer, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“You need to forget about Ben”, she insisted, her tone firm. “He’s not worth your time or your heartache. You have someone amazing right in front of you, someone who genuinely cares about you”.

You nodded, knowing deep down that Annie was right. But as much as you wanted to let go, the pull of your feelings for Ben remained stubbornly strong.

“I know”, you replied softly, your voice filled with resignation. “But it’s not that easy. Ben… he made me feel things no one else ever could, or ever will”.

Annie rolled her eyes, her disdain for Ben evident in the way her lips curled into a frown. “Yeah, well, he was also a huge dick most of the time”, she muttered under her breath.

You couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at her bluntness. “That’s true”, you admitted with a rueful smile. “But despite everything, there was still something about him…”.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she reached out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. “But you deserve someone who treats you right”.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I know Ben wasn't always ideal", you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "But he… he literally risked his life for me so many times… We, he, was special. We had something special".

"If there was really something special, he wouldn't have just left", she said bluntly, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

The truth in Annie's words cut deep, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. You knew she was right, that Ben's departure had left a gaping hole in your heart that seemed impossible to fill. But despite the pain, a part of you couldn't let go of the memories, the moments of connection and intimacy that had once brought you so much joy.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to respond."But… it's not that simple…".

Annie reached out to you, her touch gentle as she wiped away your tears. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want you to be happy, that's all".

As you walked back to the table with Annie by your side, you couldn't shake the weight of her words echoing in your mind. With a heavy heart, you stole a glance at her, a silent plea for comfort and understanding.

"He didn't even say goodbye", you mumbled, the bitterness of the truth lingering on your tongue.

"He's just an asshole", she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But he… had his reasons", you replied quietly, thinking about russia, though even you weren't entirely convinced by your own words.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she linked her arm with yours. "Maybe", she conceded, her voice softening. "But that doesn't excuse the way he treated you. You deserve better than that".

In the apartment, Butcher, MM and Frenchie sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Frenchie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his brow furrowed with worry. “I don’t like lying to (y/n)”, he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with guilt.

Butcher let out a frustrated groan, his frustration palpable in the air. “If (y/n) knew we had captured Soldier Boy, she’d be on the next flight to free him”, he grumbled, his tone laced with bitterness.

MM glanced between his companions, his expression grave. “We can’t risk it”, he said firmly, his voice a quiet reminder of the stakes at hand.

Frenchie let out a frustrated grunt, his unease bubbling to the surface. "If that ever comes out, (y/n) will hate us all", he muttered.

Butcher's jaw tightened at the thought, his frustration boiling over into anger. "She won't find out", he snapped, his tone harsh and uncompromising. "No one is spilling the beans, understand?".

MM nodded in agreement, his expression solemn as he met Butcher's steely gaze. "We'll keep our mouths shut", he affirmed. "He wasn't good for her, Frenchie. He just used her".

But Frenchie shook his head adamantly, his brow furrowed with disagreement. "I don't think so", he interjected, his voice firm with conviction. "I think he really did love her".

Butcher scoffed at Frenchie's assertion, his skepticism evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. "Love? That's a load of rubbish", he retorted, his tone dismissive. "He's a bloody supe, Frenchie. They don't know the first thing about love".

Frenchie bristled at Butcher's words. "Clearly you didn't see the way he looked at her", he countered. "There was something real there, I'm telling you".

MM glanced between Butcher and Frenchie, a troubled expression crossing his features. "Maybe", he conceded reluctantly. "But even if he did love her, it doesn't change the fact that he's a liability now. We can't afford to have him jeopardize us".

Turning back towards Annie, you couldn't shake the nagging question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind. "But don't you think it's strange he didn't even say goodbye?", you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, we were kinda friends, right?".

Annie raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "Friends?", she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "You're for real, (y/n)?".

You flushed slightly, taken aback by Annie's reaction. "Well, maybe not friends exactly," you admitted sheepishly. "But we… we had something".

Until now, you hadn't told anyone how much had actually happened between you and Ben, even if everyone could already guess.

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she shook her head. "I don't know what you had with Ben", she replied, her tone softer now. "But whatever it was, it's over now. You deserve better than someone who would just up and leave without a word".

Despite your best efforts to move forward, being back with the team brought a flood of emotions rushing back, intensifying the ache of missing Ben. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper his name, every familiar face a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared.

You found yourself lost in memories, replaying moments spent with Ben in your mind like a broken record. His absence felt like a gaping hole in the fabric of your reality, a void that no amount of distraction could fill.

And as you navigated through the days, the longing for Ben weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the most joyous moments. Despite the passage of time, the pain of his absence remained raw and unyielding.

And as you struggled to reconcile the past with the present, you couldn't shake the feeling that despite your best efforts, you were still trapped in a cycle of longing and loss.

———————————

A/N: I hope this chapter makes you feel a little better :D There's still so much planned guys, just wait. Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 22

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth @artemys-ackles @selfdestructionandrhum @mystic-mara

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 2

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past)

Word Count: 3377

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: Law can't trust you yet, so you do everything you can to prove yourself. Will your memories help or hurt you?

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying writing Law in multiple fics, so I can slap different vibes on him like he's trying on different shades of eyeliner 😅

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Other Additional Tags to be Added, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do, young master! You–”

“Now, now, Y/N. What did I tell you? You’re my pretty little thing now, so you get to call me Doffy, alright?”

His large hand cupped your face, warming your cheek that was already warm from his attention. 

He’s smiling at me now. I’m special to him. I mean something to him, finally. 

“Well? Are you going to answer my question properly?”

Doffy’s hand traveled down to your neck, long fingers circling your vulnerable flesh as he waited for you to obey him.

“Yes. I love you, Doffy.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N?”

Law repeated your name softly until you returned, finding yourself in that metal room, a shrine dedicated to his hatred and rage. 

“I’m sorry to have to ask you this,” Law rasped, dipping his face to meet your eyes. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through all these years…”

His brows pinched together when he caught your grimace, and his shoulders slumped. 

Guilt pulled at his features, while you tried to understand which of the emotions inside you were worth focusing on. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you that–”

“I don’t know,” you confessed. Your voice was empty, as if a machine were spilling truths instead of your own lips. 

“I did love him. I know I did,” you continued, staring a hole through Law’s wooden desk. “I’ve been… feeling guilty for a while. Why am I not feeling that anymore?”

Your misty eyes looked up, almost pleading with him for an answer. 

“Loving Doffy is the only thing I’m good at. The only reason he needs me. What use am I–”

“You are worth more than what he takes from you,” he growled, your eyes widening until the mist turned to tears.

Law relaxed his shoulders again, releasing a breath. Those tattooed hands cupped your cheeks, and you sighed as his thumbs wiped away your show of weakness. 

“Y/N,” he soothed, his lips quirking before he continued. He dropped his hands away, and you missed their warmth, especially as those golden eyes hardened again. 

“I don’t want to keep you prisoner, but as much as I'd like to, I can’t trust you yet.”

Nodding, you tried not to shake as fear rolled back over you. 

“I can’t risk this mission. It’s not safe for me to leave you somewhere on your own. But if I let you roam the Polar Tang, interact with my crew… Especially when you can sneak into any room you like–”

“I would never,” you choked out, reaching for one of his hands on the desk. “Please, Law. I won’t betray you, I swear.”

He squeezed your hand in return, but shook his head. 

“I want to believe you, Y/N. But we both know the power he has over people. You might not think you’d betray me now, but he’s been in your head your whole life.”

The weight of loneliness pressed your body down, your hand going limp in his. He squeezed it a few more times until you looked up again. 

“If you're willing to trust me,” he started, his eyes a bit wide, “I have a way to make sure that I can trust you. It won’t hurt–”

“Hurt,” you whispered, wetting your dry lips as you waited for whatever he wanted to do to you.

“I can remove your heart,” he explained, pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the large bottom drawer of his desk. 

With all of the gruesome things you’d seen in your life, you were surprised at the gasp you let out. Law had pulled something from the drawer, holding it up so that you could take a look. 

It was a strange cube, almost glowing with blueish pink light. It looked squishy, and you reached out to touch it before you noticed the steady pulse. It was a beating heart. 

“So that story is true,” you breathed as you watched it in fascination, “you really did steal all of those pirate’s hearts.”

“I did,” he nodded grimly, tucking that heart back into the drawer. “I’ve done a lot of things to prepare for this goal.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You–”

“Take my heart. It’s not helping me out anyway, it might be good to have a break,” you laughed, trying to cover the hollow sound in your words. 

Law stood, and you followed suit, his powerful voice vibrating through you. 

“Room.”

You watched in awe as he created a blue sphere of light to fill the space before coming toward you with his sword. 

“This is just a precaution,” he explained, his breath going heavy. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I'll protect you.”

“I trust you,” you admitted before you held your breath. 

You couldn’t follow all of the emotions that crossed his face, until he drained them all away. He looked at you as if you were just a problem to be solved. A loose end to tie up to make sure his plan would succeed.

His sunny eyes were as cold and distant as the vacuum of space when he held the tip of his blade to your chest.

“Scalpel.”

You couldn’t remember the last time a weapon had hurt you. There was no need to worry about being injured in battle when you hadn’t left the castle in so long. 

Doffy was the only one that could hurt you, besides the sea and its stone.

Nothing could cut through mist. 

Law was so confident in his ability that you hadn’t questioned him. Instead, you tried to cooperate, somehow willing your body to stay solid so he could rip you open. 

But the blade at your chest seemed as weak as your own abilities. 

Until it pierced your flesh.

“You’re okay,” Law assured you as he pressed further, your gasping breaths slowing as you realized there was no pain. 

“Would you like to hold it?”

Such a strange feeling, gazing at your own beating heart. The very core of your being, the thing that keeps you alive. 

Sitting in the palm of your hand like a piece of fruit.

“What happens if I squeeze it?”

“It would hurt very– Y/N, stop!”

Law pulled your heart from your grasp as you fell to your knees. The pain was indescribable, radiating from your chest through your whole body, as if your veins were on fire. Nausea came as the pain burned through you, and you leaned your forehead against his desk as he knelt beside you. 

“Why would you do that,” he questioned, almost scolding you like he would when you were kids. 

“Most things can’t hurt me,” you choked out, tilting your head up to see his grumpy face. “I was just curious.”

He frowned before sitting on the floor beside you, pushing the chair out of his way as he looked you over. 

“How are you feeling, Y/N? Have you been having thoughts of harming yourself?”

“What? No,” you exclaimed, sitting straight as the pain started to fade. “I promise, I just… I don’t know. I’ve never been handed my own fucking heart before. It was like an impulse.”

“You’ll tell me if you start having thoughts like that,” he requested after a pause, making you squirm with embarrassment. 

“I promise, I’m sorry. I was stupid.”

Law helped you to your feet, then gripped your shoulder until you were caught in his serious glare. 

“That was a stupid thing to do, but you are not stupid.”

You scrunched your face up, and sat down, itching to forget everything that happened in the last hour.

“This is just a precaution,” he repeated, locking your heart in that bottom drawer. You tried not to stare as he tucked the key into his pocket, but a sick taste of guilt hit your tongue.

I wouldn't need a key to steal my heart back. I could just mist into the drawer, and absorb it. 

You gulped down the pressure to confess, to tell him to hide it somewhere else. 

I’m not gonna steal it back, but I don’t know him anymore. I should be careful. 

“Now,” Law cleared his throat, picking up his notepad again, “do you know anything about Doflamingo’s dealings with Kaidou?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell him. Everything just felt blank.

“I don’t… I’m not important enough to know anything,” you explained, the words burning your throat on the way out. “I’m sorry, I probably won’t be able to help much.”

Law sat back in his chair, tapping his pen against his lips while he assessed you.

I’m still fucking useless. 

‘Can’t do anything on your own, huh? Just listen to Doffy, you’ll be the perfect little doll for me, alright?’

“Were you with him a lot?”

“What,” you coughed, your skin flushing to the tips of your ears. 

“No, I– that’s not what I…” Law sighed, shaking his head to clear his own words away. “Did he have you with him throughout the day? During meals, maybe while he took calls or meetings?”

“Oh,” you said softly, noticing yourself going fuzzy again, staring into nothing as you tried to recall.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“I mean no offense, Joker, but shouldn’t we be discussing this in private?”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Caesar,” Doffy laughed, rubbing his hand over your back as you lounged in his lap. “She can’t do any harm.”

The scientist frowned at you for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was wearing makeup, or if his skin really was that pale, his lips almost purple. He met your eyes before shifting his own away from you, and away from Doffy’s fingers that trailed over your thighs, your neck. 

Doffy always touched you so gently when visitors were around, and you melted into him. 

If not for Caesar’s grating laugh, you might have drifted off. Instead, you jolted now and then, Doffy’s hands clutching a little tighter. 

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Are you al–”

“I remember something. Doffy sent Monet with a scientist, this weird guy with–”

“Caesar Clown,” he prompted, his brow arching a bit.

“Yeah. And I guess you wouldn’t know Monet, she joined after you…”

Law pointed to a picture on the wall, your gaze slow in following the gesture. 

“I know of her.”

Your eyes were drawn to a shot of Monet, her wings curled around her as she read a book with those odd, hypnotizing glasses of hers. Memories of her disapproval hit you, a sigh escaping your lips as you tried to rid yourself of her judgments. 

“She’s even more loyal to Doffy than the rest of– than everyone else. She’s almost obsessive. That’s probably why he sent her.”

Law’s body had gone taut, like electricity was running through him as he set his pen to the paper. 

“Please, Y/N, tell me everything you can remember. Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

~

Your brain felt like a wet rag, with Law wringing out every detail of every call or meeting you could think of. 

It seemed strange how much you could recall from your quiet perch on his lap. You were always so bored, but had to fight yourself not to space out or yawn.

Doffy’s possessive fingers along your skin were wonderful, your revealing clothing giving him so much access. As bored as you could get, those teasing touches in front of visitors prepared your body for what came later. 

It was a relief to wet his thigh with slick before he dismissed the guests. He rarely had the patience to prep you any other way. 

You’d spaced out on those memories, Law’s face pinching in concern as he watched your nails digging into your arms.

“Are you hungry? We can continue tomorrow.”

Groaning at the thought, you followed Law back to the galley. He didn’t have much luck in calming his crew this time. They surrounded the two of you until Law begrudgingly introduced you, and your hand was shaken by many greasy, steamy hands pulled out of gloves, and one bear’s paw that you were very hesitant to touch. 

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Bepo drawled, true sadness seeming to drip from his voice. “I just really love our cap–” 

“Bepo,” Law scolded, and you turned to scold him back as the bear scurried off.

“How could you be so mean, did you see his–”

“Don’t fall for his sad bear eyes,” Law bristled, and you held in your smile at his discomfort. 

“Is that something you’ve learned from experience,” you teased, earning you a scowl.

Law tucked into his meal, not meeting your eyes as he replied. 

“I know my crew.”

“Oh yeah? They all seem to think you’re the most wonderful man in the world. Could the Surgeon of Death be a big softie?”

If looks could kill.

“Okay, sorry,” you teased between bites, “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You do realize that I could take away your tongue if I wanted to,” he threatened, with what looked like the barest touch of pink gracing his cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d enjoy some alone time with it.”

Law raised his brows as you clamped your hand over your mouth, your face going hot. He looked too smug, his lips curling as if trying not to laugh. 

“Shut up,” you choked out, putting your misty hands in your lap. 

“I’m not the one whose tongue keeps wagging,” he taunted, somehow keeping that stoic air about him, just a hint of playfulness showing through. 

You stuck that tongue out at him before focusing on your meal, and the low chuckle he let escape was hardly noticeable over the nearby conversations of his crew.

But you noticed it. 

Warmth tingled through your body, and your face was still burning by the time he led you to your room.

~

“Will you be alright in here,” he checked in, standing outside the door to the small room he’d set up for you in the barracks. “The crew are on rotating shifts, so there will always be someone sleeping or getting ready nearby if you need anything.”

“Okay,” you said in a small voice. The realization that you were about to be alone in a cramped, metal room made your skin crawl.

“Are you o—“

“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” you lied with a smile. You were good at lying with smiles. 

“Okay,” he nodded, clearing his throat. “I’ll, uh… I’ll come wake you in the morning, alright? We can have breakfast before we continue going over what you remember.”

“Sounds good,” you chirped. Your cheeks started to hurt as you waved him out, letting your muscles relax after he’d closed that heavy door. 

Quiet.

Not completely. Clanging sounds of the sub interrupted the stillness. Soft voices floated in the hallway beyond that door. 

But now that you were alone…

Thoughts. Memories. Fear. Shame. Guilt. 

Falling back on the single bed, you choked out silent sobs, the flood of emotions slamming into you. You had left your world, dove off the edge of a waterfall, but now you were caught beneath the crashing water, drowning while your body was ripped apart. 

What have I done? How could I leave the family? How could I betray Doffy? 

I’m nothing but scum. Useless my whole life, and now I’m a traitor.

Your mind went in endless loops. Gratitude for Law taking you away. Guilt for betraying the family. Relief that you weren’t stuck in that mindless existence anymore. Terror that Doffy would find and kill you both slowly. 

It hurt. Your whole body hurt, your head pounding like the clanging metal of the submarine.

And you couldn’t understand how you could feel your heart breaking and burning in your chest when it was locked up in Law’s office. 

“Y/N, can I come in?”

His knock had sent you to the ceiling, your body spread into cowardly mist while you tried to calm down. 

“Y/N,” he checked again, concern staining his voice. 

“Just a second,” you stalled, going solid in front of the door. You shook yourself, wiped your tears, and took a few quiet breaths before opening the door with another beaming smile. 

“What’s up?”

Law didn’t look at you like an old friend, an enemy, or a captain on a mission. 

He looked at you like a doctor, and you tried not to squirm.

“What’s that,” you pointed to the lump of shiny fabric he held under one arm.

He coughed, looking down at his shoes before returning your gaze, seeming to rebuild that doctor persona.

“You’ve been through an intense amount of trauma, and the shock of… If you would feel comfortable, I’d like to sleep on the floor in here tonight, just to make sure you’re okay. I could sleep outside the door if you prefer, I just—“

He glanced down at your clenched fists, and you tried to relax them as he continued. 

“I want you to feel safe.”

I’ll never be safe. I’m a traitor. I’m weak. I’ll be tortured before they kill me. 

Doffy will…

The lump in your throat burned, and you filled the room with thick mist so he wouldn’t see you shatter, sinking to the floor as you clawed at your empty chest.

Law closed the door, calling your name as he moved blindly toward you. You could feel him in your mist, and you could have avoided him. You could have let yourself expand into tiny droplets of water, keeping yourself away from any care or comfort he could try to provide. 

But you couldn’t think. Just heave silent sobs, and struggle through breaths that took in more mist than oxygen.

“Y/N– fuck,” he cursed, stubbing his toe on the bed as he waved his arms around slowly. 

The mist told you that he’d gone to his knees, crawling close to you in the small space, but you couldn’t do anything with that knowledge. 

Warm fingers found your arm, pressing lightly along to figure out what he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry I’m touching you, I just need to make sure you’re alright,” he breathed, tracing along your shaking body until he found your neck. His fingers almost burned your clammy skin as he took your pulse before gripping your shoulder gently. 

The way that you could see through your eyes was different than how you could see as mist, or through the mist you create, but you had no way to describe the difference. Through the mist, you saw him lean close, his head above yours as if he could see through the mist too. 

“I’m here. I’m right here with you, Y/N.”

Time was impossible to track as you alternated between crying and dissociating, Law’s calm presence never wavering. Eventually, your mist cleared up, from exhaustion instead of choice. 

He lifted your limp body, tucking you into the small bed before rolling out his sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to sta–”

Law interrupted your slurred words with a harsh glare, but sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

His eyes seemed brighter in this dim room, his voice too soft, yet firm.

Staring into nothing, you felt numbness trying to take you again, but words jumped out of you before you drifted away. 

“Why does it still hurt,” you accused, tapping against your chest with angry fingers, desperate to rip these feelings out. “You took my heart, Law. Why does it still hurt so bad?”

Somehow, more hot tears fell, your body too weak to keep tearing at the hole inside. 

Law’s eyes trailed away, gone to some other time, some other place. When he came back to you, he took your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. 

“If I could cure a broken heart, I wouldn’t be able to complete my mission.”

His words felt as hollow as your chest. You managed to squeeze his hand, pulling in his distant eyes. 

“So we can be broken together then,” you asked, your voice still hoarse as your lips lifted into a weak smile.

Law huffed a laugh, lifting your fingers to his lips before kissing his promise onto your skin.

“Broken together.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I knew I was going to go crazy when I started writing for Law, and I was correct. I'm obsessed with this emotionally wrecked man 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 3

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[eunchancorner]

Two short stories, two longer stories, almost six Google doc pages, 3377 words and one new nickname for Liv, it is with great pleasure and relief that I finally bring you

Three times Ethan tickled his partners, and one time he didn't

Ethan delighted in the soft giggles that arose as he gently squished the small bit of pudge that hung just slightly over the waistband of Streber’s pants. One of his favorite people, who he’d seen at his best, and recently at his very worst, was healing.

“You’re getting soft again,” he commented, resting his head on Streb’s shoulder.

“Ihi knohohohow.”

“I missed your squish so much…”

“Ihit’s nohot that muhuhuch.”

“But it’s something. It’s progress. Progress I’m glad you’ve made…”

Ethan pressed his cheek into Streber’s, feeling his face heating up a bit. He loved how much the genuine affection got to the poor nerd.

Ethan gently pinched up and down Streb’s tummy, listening to his giggles vary in pitch, from his normal voice to high and silly, admiring every adorable sound.

“I think your new squish is even more ticklish than before~,” he teased, adoring the flustered squeak he earned, and unable to resist giving his cheek a little kiss.

“I love you~”

“Ihi love youhu tohohoo.”

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“LIV GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!”

“It’s too late, Ethan, I can’t unlearn your weakness!”

The two had been locked in a chase around the house for several minutes. Ethan had recently let slip a particular secret of his to her sneaky questions, and now he was determined to make her pay for it. The only problem was that she was well-versed in running from her partners’ wrath, so he was having a tough time cornering her. However, he was also growing adept at chasing down his partners, so he had a few tricks of his own.

One of which came in the form of a very conveniently timed boyfriend.

“LEON, GRAB HER!” he shouted as Leon rounded the couch, which he was chasing her towards. In one swift motion, Leon grabbed her under her arms and swooped her up off the ground, leaving her legs to kick uselessly in midair as she protested using several threats and curses.

Ethan stopped in front of the two, taking a minute to catch his breath, before pointing at the redhead.

“You. Did you think you’d get away with that little stunt?” he questioned her.

“Yep, AND I was absolutely gonna remember it, too! I’d FINALLY have a leg up in our tickle fights, you giant ler!”

“Well, now you’ve earned yourself a one-way ticket to getting wrecked, good job. May I, Leon?”

“LEON- I swear to fuck if you hand me over to him I am gonna dump ALL of your protein powder into the toilet!!”

Leon gave the small redhead in his hands a glare at the ill-timed threat, shortly before handing her like a ragdoll over to their boyfriend with the simple statement; “Go nuts.”

“W-Wait! Leon! THAT WAS A PROMISE!” she called after him as he returned on his original route to the kitchen, before looking back at Ethan.

“Hi~”

“U-uhm, hi?”

“Wanna apologize for your little shittery?”

“I don’t apologize for that. You know this by now!”

“Really? So you’re just gonna let this happen?”

“Let what ha-” she cut herself off as she realized what he meant. “Oh. Fuck.”

The chuckle Ethan let out was unnecessarily threatening, and Liv felt herself forcing down a nervous smile of her own.

“E-Ethan, no! I-I- I swear, i-if you tickle me, I-I’ll tell someone about it! You won’t know who, and you won’t know when until it’s too late!” she warned, wriggling in his grasp, trying to get herself down.

“Hm, guess I’ll have to tickle ya until you promise not to tell anyone!”

“Wait what-”

She squealed suddenly as Ethan practically threw her down onto the couch beside them and dug his fingers into her ribs, prompting her to grab onto and pull at his arms.

“Ehehethahahan! Nahahoho! Youhu jeheherk!” she insulted him, inadvertently digging herself a deeper hole.

“Liv, the more you fight, the worse it’s gonna get. If you wanna get out of this, you have to be nice. Start by apologizing for being rude~”

“Nehehever! Ihi’ll nehever gihive ihihin!!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her stubbornness, especially considering how hard she was already laughing. Never change, Liv.

He grabbed her left hand, hoisting it up over her head and raking his fingers from her underarm, down her ribs and side, all the way down to her hip, then right back up, causing her to squeal and smack at him with her remaining hand.

“NyAhaHAHahaHAHaha EHEthahaHAN!! WhYhy THAhahAHAT?!” she demanded, her laughter gaining a quality Ethan could only describe as fittingly chaotic. She attempted to twist away from his hand, only to find that Ethan had very well adapted to keeping up with her constant moving.

“Because it makes you sound adorable!~ And because it’s even worse for you, which isn’t as big of a reason, but still a reason. Tell ya what. I’ll make a deal with you. All I want you to do is say sorry for being a little shit today, and you’ll be free! Sound good?~”

Once again, in all her stubbornness, Liv shook her head in refusal. She was always determined to keep from apologizing for her (admittedly harmless) actions, but unfortunately, Ethan seemed to have gained his patience back.

“That’s ok, I’ve got all the time in the world to keep tickling you until you change your mind!~”

“BUHuHUhuHUhuHuhuT Ihi’m TOOHOhohO TihiHIHIcKLihIHISh!! IHI’LL DihihIHIHIE!!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic! You might be extremely, adorably ticklish but you won’t die! You’ll just either succumb to cotton brain or have to apologize,” he reasoned, “If you were gonna die, it’d probably be from this.”

Suddenly, he let go of her hand and began raking his newly freed hand up and down her other side, moving in the opposite direction to the other, raising her laughter up much higher than he expected.

“FUHUHUHUHUHUCK EHEHEHETHAHAHAHAN!! IHIHIT’S TOHOHORTUHUHURE!! TOHOHORTUHUHUHUHURE!!!” she practically screeched, grabbing onto his hands and flailing every which way in an attempt to escape, even going as far as to attempt to shake his arms to try to pull him off.

“And yet you know exactly how to get me to stop! But you’re not gonna, are you? Because however much you yell it’s ‘torture’ or that it’s gonna kill you, you’ll always keep being a little shit, just so someone will pin you down, and tickle you until you can’t think because it’s just so fun. Isn’t that right?~”

“SHUHUT YOUHUHUR FAHAHAHACE!!” She tried to cover his face with one hand.

“You’re not even denying it at this point! But, I know exactly what’ll get to you. Exactly what’ll get you to apologize, and end your supposed torture~” Ethan cleared his throat and leaned in close to make sure she could hear him.

“Tickle tickle tickle~”

“EHEHETHAHAN NOHOHO!!”

“Tickle tickle tickle~ Such a cute little ferret getting her tickles~”

“YOUHU AHAHAHASS!! NOHO TEHEHEASIHIHING!!”

“But why not, hm? Can’t I give a cute lil ferret her teases and tickles?~”

“WHEHERE DIHIHID THEHE STUHUPIHID FEHEHERREHET THIHING COHOME FROHOHOM?!”

“Well, you’re just like one! You’re wiggly and hyper and love causing mischief until someone gives you attention. So now, you’re a wiggly, ticklish little ferret, who’s getting all her tickle-tickle-tickles~”

“FIHIHINE FIHIHINE IHI’M SOHOHORRYHYHY! NOHO MOHOHORE TEHEHEASIHIHINGGG!” she finally gave in, and Ethan let go, just as he had promised, letting her make her attempts to stop laughing and even out her breathing.

“Youhuhu… ahare fuhucking ruhuhuhuthlehehess…” she managed as she slowly calmed down, earning a soft chuckle from Ethan.

“Maybe you’ll remember that next time. Of course, whether that stops you or spurs you on is up to you~”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“EHEHETHAHAHAN PLEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Aww, what’s wrong, Leon? Too ticklish for tummy kisses?~” the goth cooed at his hysterical boyfriend, before peppering soft kisses all over his belly for the second time in a row. In response, he could feel Leon smacking the top of his head as though trying to dislodge him, despite having literally asked for this.

“C’mon, don’t try to push away now. I thought you wanted a soft night in tonight~”

“IHI DIHIHID BUHUT- FUHUHUHUCK!! NOHOT THEHEHEHERE!!” he squealed as Ethan’s kisses trailed around to the side of his tummy, which somehow seemed to be much worse than the middle.

“There’s so many little spots on your tummy, you’re so adorable. My big puppy boy~”

“IHI AHAHAM NOHOT A PUHUHUPPY!! YOUHU FUHUHUCKER!”

“Are you sure? Even if you wanna pull the tough guy routine, you’re pretty puppy-like. You have lots of energy, you’re friendly, you love having your tummy tickled, and if I do this…” Ethan gently pressed his thumb just above Leon’s belly button, making him kick out one of his legs in response. “You kick like a puppy, too! So, I’ve come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, a puppy. Hm, Streber would be proud of me.”

“HEHE WOUHUHUHULDN’T! GOHOHOHOD, EHEHEHETHAHAHAN!” Leon pushed at his boyfriend’s shoulders, pure instinct driving his actions. He loved this, he knew he did, no matter how flustering it was. 

But Ethan was never going to hear that.

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Ethan loved his feared ler status.

He found himself lucky to be in a household with so many partners that loved to tickle and be tickled the same way he did, and he found himself even luckier to usually be the one who ended up tickling the others. He was sure he’d won the most tickle fights in the whole house.

Well, next to Aria.

Him and her had been tied for the longest time; Ethan because he never resisted the urge to strike, and Aria because she knew how to keep people from predicting when she’d strike next.

But today, he was going to change that. Ethan was going to show Aria who the most feared ler in the house was, by sneaking up on her and tickling her until she admitted it was him.

And now he was so close!

Closer…

He crept up behind her as she leaned on the back of the couch, idly watching the news.

Closer…

He could hear her humming. She sounded so distracted.

Closer…

He could practically hear her laughing already.

Closer… NOW!

“GOTCHA- WHOA! FUCK!!”

He’d lunged at her, and was taken by surprise when she whipped around, grabbed his wrist and lifted him with her free hand, slamming him down onto the couch, all the air rushing out of his lungs on impact. He coughed a bit as he regained his breath, looking up at her looming over him, her hand still on his chest and his wrist still locked in her grip.

“Uhm… hi?” he smiled innocently.

“Hi there,” she gave him an equally innocent look. That’s never a good sign.

“Well… uhm… how exactly did you do that?”

“Well, you remember how in high school I took ballet one year, and karate the next?”

“L-Listen, you can’t keep blaming all the weirdly impressive shit you do on the weird shit you did in high school!”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said they didn’t have a hand in it, but I have been training with Leon lately!”

“Of course…” he rolled his eyes. It always fucking ties back to Leon.

“So, mind telling me why you were sneaking up on me like a creep?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“W-well, I was uh-” he was cut off with a grunt as Aria’s weight suddenly shifted to the hand that was on his chest as she pulled her legs over the back of the couch; one landing between Ethan’s own legs and one in front of the couch.

“Oww… It hurts when you do that, y’know,” he told her, earning a small eye roll.

“So you’ve complained before. Now answer my question.” She smiled as she saw his eyes widened. He thought I forgot.

“S-so, uhm, I-I was uh… w-well… I… was… uh…” he fumbled for an answer that didn’t incriminate himself, and found himself unable to come up with anything.

“You were plotting something, weren’t you?”

Oh fuck.

“But,” she glanced over the back of the couch, “since you didn’t bring something with you, I’m gonna assume you weren’t planning on doing anything that might result in a lecture from Streber. You weren’t planning on trying to take that little title, hm?”

“Wh-what title could that be?” he asked, averting his gaze, trying to suppress his nervous smile.

“The title of the biggest ler in the house. Because that title belongs to me. And you know how I know that?”

Oh she is absolutely setting this up but how can I NOT-

“Because you’re a cocky jerk?” he smirked at his own words, feeling a tinge of confidence.

That confidence faded as soon as her eyes narrowed at him.

“Because you are awfully ticklish to gentle tickles. Aren’t you?~” she leaned in all too close as she asked, “And luckily for you, gentle tickles are my specialty~”

“W-what are you… i-implying?” he asked cautiously, his eyes locking onto her hand as it moved from his chest to the side of his face.

“I’m implying,” she began as she began tracing behind his ear, causing him to choke down giggles already, “That I’m gonna do to you exactly what you were planning to do to me. Except I’m actually going to make it effective, because we all know what makes you tick, Eth. And you are going to admit that I’m the biggest ler in the house. Or at least the scariest.”

“Ihi- I’m n-not denying y-you’re the s-scariehest, Jehesus fucken Christ,” he managed, feeling his heart pounding in his chest from the threat of tickles alone. “B-but you are not th-the biggest leher… that’s me.”

“Hm. Then it looks like I am going to tickle you for the biggest ler title.”

“Oh th-that’s just n-nohot fair…”

“It’s completely fair! After all, isn’t that what you were gonna do?” she began to trace down his neck, causing him to squeak and grab her wrist. She raised an eyebrow at him, moving her finger in slow circles in the spot it was trapped in.

“Let go of my hand, or I’m going to tickle you so bad you won’t even be able to think about today without getting in a lee mood,” she warned, and the look she had made Ethan sure she was being very serious, so he did as she said.

“Good, now how am I going to do this, hm? Should I play a little first, see how loud I can make you laugh without going for your worst spot, or should I go for that infamous little kill button right away?~ And even so, which one? The one where my hand would be trapped to trace until you can finally lift your arm, and even then there’s no guarantee I’ll stop, or do I go for the one where you can’t protect your poor little spot, leaving me to trace in whatever little shapes I want, and all you can do is laugh and laugh and laugh, because we both know you won’t be able to get out a single word. So many decisions to make, and the longer I take to make them, the more flustered you’ll be, but I think I know what’ll make it ten times worse. One simple little question, that you ask all too often; What do you think I should do?~”

I think you should be less fucken terrifying, he thought, but truthfully he didn’t know if he could get a word out. Being teased by anyone else isn’t so bad, but this was Aria. She knew exactly how to get to him too flustered to manage a word, and it was working all too well. He tried to give any kind of answer, but the words caught in his throat, and all he could manage were a few flustered squeaks.

“Ethan~ If I can’t get a straight answer, I’ll just have to decide for myself, and you know I’ll pick what gets you the most~” she warned him, hovering her hand over his ribs and watching him flinch and try to squirm away, pressing his arm to his side in an effort to block her.

“A-aria… P-plehease…” was all he could manage. He wasn't sure what he was trying to ask for, maybe mercy, but either way she seemed to be having none of it.

“What’s wrong, darling? Too scared to give me an answer? That’s ok, I think I know exactly what to do~” she cooed before she began to gently pinch up and down his side, causing him to finally release all the laughter he’d felt bubbling up in his chest. He squealed and twisted under her in an attempt to hide himself, but a quick scribble to his other side sent him right back onto his back.

“Arihiahahaha! Plehehease, wahahahait! Nohohohoho!” he begged, resisting the urge to grab her wrist again and instead opted for grabbing his own shirt to try to ground himself.

“I don’t think I will, Ethan~ We’ve both waited long enough for me to tickle you, and if you had to wait any more, I think you’d regret saying that, wouldn’t you?” She began to skitter her nails lightly against his ribs before he could answer, making him laugh louder and kick his legs to try to dispel the energy. She chuckled softly as she watched him struggle to sass her, unable to get any sort of coherent thoughts within the fireworks of his brain to come up with something snarky to say. She traced up and down his ribs, delighting in every squeak and change in pitch, listening to him come so close to absolutely losing it just because he was that much worse off with such gentle tickles. As much as she wanted to dig in and watch him flail, listen to him cackle, she knew this was so much worse.

Occasionally she’d dip just between his ribs and underarms, ripping a squeal from his throat, and just as quickly, she’d be back to his ribs. She could see how badly it got to him; the way he’d tug at his poor shirt when she got a little too high and yet how he’d just barely whine when she’d leave it alone so fast.

“What’s wrong, Ethan? Can’t handle your tickles? Why are you so whiny, hm? Is there something you’re expecting?~” she couldn’t help but tease him, knowing exactly what he wanted; for her to finally go after his death spot, for his brain to fill with fog and fireworks and be able to do nothing but laugh, to fulfill the buzzing anticipation that only got worse every time she tricked him.

Gradually she let up under she had her hand just hovering above that little spot that she knew she could destroy him with, smirking as she listened to his nervous, giddy giggles.

“Well, Ethan?” she asked, “Got anything to say?”

“P-plehehease, Ahariahaha… I-Ihi’m sohohorry, y-youhu’re th-the bihihiggehest leheher, I wahas wrohohong… plehehease, juhust doho ihihit ahalreheheheadyyy…”

Aria blinked down at him. He’s… asking me to wreck him. Just like that. In exchange for admitting it, he wants me to destroy him.

She smiled, and then she chuckled quietly.

“You’re adorable when you’re desperate~”

Before Ethan had time to process it, his wrist was released and he felt an unbearably gentle tracing in that little kill spot between his underarms and ribs, sending him into utter hysterics. She watched as his shoulders shook with laughter, his arms clamped to his sides and he tossed his head back, and yet he seemed almost relaxed. She knew why, too; the anticipation of going after his worst spot was finally over, he finally got the tickles he’d been expecting from her.

After a few more moments of tickling him senseless, she finally let up, gently patting him on the head and giggling softly as he batted at her hand.

She looked up to see their other six partners staring at her from a few feet away, all six pairs of eyes wide and all six faces blushing. She couldn’t resist the urge to smirk and raise her hands in wiggling claws, which sent all of them running in different directions, watching Confi struggle to make a decision before following Liv to her room.

Title secured.

[somethinginthewayiam]

A new home

pairing: Chibs Telford x plus-size reader

words: 3377

warnings: there is 18+ content throughout (minors DNI), mentions of ptsd, smut

Summary: After the explosion, Chibs just cut all communication and didn’t show up again. He didn’t even tell you that the club bought the ice cream shop on mainstreet. You found out by chance walking by...

link to my masterlist and previous parts

You startled awake in your bed. Your heart and your breathing raced each other. You had dreamed about the explosion again. It had just been a few days ago and you relieved the moment every night since.

Your hand reached over automatically, looking for Chibs but the bed was empty. He was a no-show since the night of the explosion, when he had brought you home and held you until you were asleep.

You pulled your hand back and put in on your chest over your heart, trying to breathe slowly and calmly until you were able to get up.

You took a cold, short shower to clear your head and then got dressed to drive over to Diosa.

With Nero in jail, you, Lyla and Gemma were basically keeping the business alive. You were taking care of more than just the books by now. You dove into the work to keep yourself distracted from everything; the explosion, Chibs cutting contact and your mental state going downhill.

In the early afternoon, you left work to run some errands but you would be back in the evening to help out with Diosa’s rush-hour. Your bartending skills came in handy again.

Carrying two big, stuffed bags with groceries, you walked down the street.

“I can’t believe they let those bikers buy the old ice cream shop. If Carl would see this, he’d turn in his grave”, you overheard two older ladies talk to each other as you passed them on the side-walk.

Your body came to a sudden halt and you turned around to them. ��Excuse me, which ice cream shop are you talking about?”, you asked. The ladies looked at you a bit startled. They hadn’t noticed you until now.

“Scoops & Sweets around the corner, on main street”, one of them told you. “Thank you”, you mentioned and changed your direction to the ice cream shop. It was really right around the corner, actually just a block away from your yoga studio.

When you came to the big shop window, you saw three people in kuttes sitting at the counter and Chucky behind it, seemingly running the place. None of them were Chibs. In fact, the only one you knew was Chucky.

Chibs hadn’t told you that the M.C. had found their new headquarters. Well, Chibs hasn’t said anything to you in the past couple of days, not a single fucking word.

You decided to go inside. Besides the counter, there were booths and a few tables with chairs, all empty. You guessed, a shop full of bikers wasn’t very inviting to the people of Charming, especially after the explosion.

“Hey Chucky, got your own place now?”, you asked as you entered. You placed the bags of groceries on the counter. “Ha, it’s cool, isn’t it? I’m selling sweets”, he told you and gestured at the filled glasses with all kinds of candy. “Oh man, I would have loved this place as a kid. You would have gotten all my pocket money”, you told him and sat down on an empty bar stool at the counter.

You looked over to the three bikers at the bar who were following your conversation with Chucky. All three were wearing SAMCRO patches.

“I think we haven’t met yet”, you said and extended your hand. They introduced themselves as Quinn, Montez and West. They told you that they had recently transferred from other charters.

You kept chatting with the men and lost a bit track of time. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Sons coming towards the shop through the big windows. You clocked Chibs right away and he spotted you, too. He stopped in his stride for a second before he entered the shop behind Tig.

But another man caught your attention as he entered the shop as the first one.

“Oh my god, Bobby!”, you exclaimed as your old boss walked through the door. You jumped off the bar stool, got over to him and gave him a big hug. You were so happy to see him again, you thought he had left Charming for good.

Chibs just walked around the two of you and hopped up on the counter, reaching into the glass of gummy worms and throwing some into his mouth.

“Hey, doll”, he greeted you with your old nickname and you immediately felt nostalgic. “I didn’t know that you’re back. How are you?”, you asked him when you pulled back. “I’ve been shopping for the club”, he said and pointed at the three new members at the counter.

“How have you been? I’ve heard you were at the clubhouse when it happened”, he asked and looked honestly worried about you. He still had his hands on your upper arms and squeezed them reassuringly.

“I’m okay, I’m pulling through. Thank you for asking, I’m glad that someone cares”, you told him. You heard Chibs snorting at your words behind you but not saying anything. You rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw at his reaction.

Bobby looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you just shook your head. “Don’t get me started”, you simply said.

“I think the two of you should talk”, Bobby advised. Then he looked over your shoulder and directly at Chibs. “And soon”, he said to his fellow SAMCRO brother. “I’ve only been back three days and he’s already getting on my nerves with his bad mood. Make me wanna ride off again”, Bobby told you.

“I’m not the one going radio silent. He stopped talking to me the day after the explosion”, you told Bobby.

“Aye, could ya stop talking like I’m not even here?”, Chibs called over from his spot on the counter.

“Oh, look who found his words again?”, you mocked him as you turned around and narrowed your eyes at him. Chibs rolled his at you and now it was your turn to snort instead of using your words.

“Alright. Not that I want to play marriage counselor here, but you kids seriously need to talk”, Bobby intervened. “Chibs, you bring Y/N home and talk about whatever is going on between the two of you. Doesn’t matter how long it takes”, he said, picked up your grocery bags and handed them to Chibs, making him come down from the counter.

“My car is right around the corner, I don’t need him”, you told Bobby. “Great, he can drive you”, he said, deliberately ignoring your objection. “Now go”, he added and motioned both of you over to the door. “Let me take those”, you said and wanted to take the bags from him. “I got it”, he just grumbled and turned his upper body away as he walked past you and out the door.

To say it was a tense ride home, would be an understatement. None of you said a word. The silence continued until you were in your apartment. Chibs put the grocery bags on your kitchen counter while you put your purse in its spot by the door.

Just a second later, Chibs was coming towards you again and wanted to walk around you and out of the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, you said and stepped in his way. “Back to the shop”, he just said and narrowed his eyes at you as you wouldn’t get out of his way.

“I thought we were gonna talk?”, you asked honestly confused. “Just because Bobby said so?”, he asked mockingly. “No, because I want to talk to you but you never showed your ass here again”, you countered and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“I don’t have time for this”, he mentioned and attempted to push past you again, but you were quicker and got in his way. You stepped in front of the door, blocking it.

“No, you’re not leaving again”, you said and put your hands on his chest, shoving him back. “Don’t make me put my hand on you, woman”, he threatened. “You wouldn’t dare. That’s not you”, you countered.

Chibs charged at you and had you caged between him and the door in two seconds. You looked up at him, lifting your chin, defying him. His eyes wandered over your face, hectically.

You could see in his eyes that both of you, at the same time, remembered the last time you stood like this at your door. When he had picked you up from that bar just a few weeks ago and had fucked you against it.

His facial features softened a little bit only to twist in anger again a moment later and he slammed his fist against the door above your head. You winced at his action. He turned around and walked a few steps into your apartment.

“What the hell is going on, Filip?”, you followed him. “Why did you just leave that morning and never came back?”, you asked. He still had his back to you, his hands on his hips. “You didn’t even call me. And I would have needed you. I was scared”, you told him further, your voice becoming shaky at the emotion that was washing over your body like a wave.

“I wanted to protect you”, he finally said. You were almost surprised when he spoke. “From what? The shit had already happened”, you replied. “You think that’s the only shite we’re dealing with?”, he turned around and his brows were furrowed in anger.

“Being involved with the club comes with consequences and I will not be responsible for you getting hurt”, he said. “It’s a little late for that”, you countered.

“What’s a little heartbreak for saving ya life?”, he asked and to your ears it sounded like he was mocking your feelings.

“You know what? Fuck you!”, you shouted at him and made a few steps in his direction, pointing your finger at him. “I’m already involved with the club, I’m working for the Sons, remember? And just because you decided that we stop fucking doesn’t resolve any involvement. It only tells me what a coward you are”, you spat at him.

“Watch it”, he warned you, but you would have none of it. “You watch it”, you threw back at him. “I’m allowed to feel scared after what happened to me but I will get over it eventually”, you told him.

“You still have those nightmares?”, he asked like he already knew the answer and that it would explain everything.

“It’s been 5 days! Sorry for not having more experience of being blown up”, you spat at him. His so-called arguments made you furious.

“How do you even know about my nightmares? It’s not like you stopped by or called for that matter”, you countered. He at least had the decency to look a little bit ashamed before he answered. “Lyla”, he finally admitted. He didn’t have the guts to talk to you but he asked Lyla how you were? Are we in fifth grade?

“Even if I do, why is it your concern? Didn’t seem to bother you the past couple of days”, you taunted him. “You’re always my concern”, he said and clenched his jaw like he was mad about that.

“Then why the sudden silence? I thought after all the sex we’re having and the time we spent together, you would at least have the decency to tell me when this is over”, you said.

“I thought it would be easier like this”, he finally admitted and his voice was lower, softer. “Well, you thought wrong. And could you please stop thinking that you could make decisions for me? I’m a grown-ass woman who is very capable of making up her own mind. You don’t get to decide what’s best for me”, you told him. He just looked at you in response, not saying a word. You would have hoped for some kind of reaction, positive or negative. But that silence again enraged you. Maybe he was actually done with you.

You walked over to Chibs and made yourself as tall as possible in front of him, putting your hands on your hips.

“If you can honestly look me in the eyes and tell me that you want to end this, that you don’t want to have sex with me again and despise my company then there is nothing I can do about it. But don’t believe for a second that you can just keep your distance and annoy me out of whatever this is. I grew up with 3 brothers. I’ve been annoyed by men my whole god-damn life”, you told him with a stern voice and poked your finger at his chest with every syllable of the last few words.

You said what you wanted to say. You looked up at him waiting for his reaction. His dark-brown eyes bored into yours, but he didn’t open his mouth. You almost felt overwhelmed by the wave of disappointment washing over you. You lightly shook your head in defeat and wanted to walk away, get some distance between the both of you.

Chibs grabbed your wrist just as you wanted to turn around. He spun you towards him and your body collided with his chest. His hands cupped your face and the next moment his lips were on yours.

It was a hard, hungry kiss, making up for lost time. You could also feel that he was fighting himself, hating himself even that he couldn’t just let this end. But you were glad that he couldn’t because if this ended, it would be worse than after that explosion. A little heartbreak, my ass. Chibs Telford owned your heart by now.

He maneuvered your bodies over to the thick carpet by the couch, you starting to undress each other. The clothes went flying, shoes were kicked off. You both got on your knees as soon as you felt the soft fabric underneath your feet.

You pushed him down on his back and pulled off his underwear. Your panties were long gone. You climbed on top of him, reaching down to align his member with your center and sank down on his hard cock until he was fully inside you.

“Ah, fuck”, you breathed out when you felt him stretching you. You had both of your hands on his chest as you started to move your hips back and forth, increasing the pace quickly. Your nails were digging into his skin as you rocked back and forth, leaving marks of your own on him.

Chibs’ hands grabbed your breasts with such a tight grip, it almost hurt. Your hips slammed down on his pelvis with force. It was a hate-fuck at its finest.

You were both moaning loudly and cussing into the air. Chibs was slapping your ass to spur you on even more.

He put his hand around your throat and pulled you down to him. He held you there while he kissed you and started to fuck up into you, digging his heels into the carpet.

You bit down on his bottom lip and he pushed you back at the pain. You shot him a devilish grin and bent down to kiss him again.

His arms snaked around your upper body, pressing you against him and holding you in place as he picked up the pace you had lost for a moment and pushed you right to the edge of your orgasm with that angle.

You buried your face at his shoulder and moaned loudly against his skin. “Fuck, I’m gonna come”, you whined and pushed yourself up on your elbows to come face to face with him.

When your orgasm washed over you, you were staring into his dark-brown eyes, your mouth falling open. Your breath got stuck in your throat before you exhaled with a loud and deep moan, your hips jerking against him and your pussy clenching hard around his cock. Chibs followed with his climax just a stroke of your hips later, growling against your collarbone.

You rolled off him and lay on your back next to him on the carpet. Your breathing was hectic and your bodies covered in sweat.

“So, did I make myself clear?”, you asked, still out of breath, looking up at your ceiling. “Crystal”, Chibs confirmed. After just another moment, he got up and grabbed his pants.

“You’re not seriously gonna leave now?”, you asked in disbelief as you moved up to your elbows. He grabbed the flip phone from his left pocket, checked it and put it back.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Am I allowed to do that?”, he asked and his voice had a mocking tone. You rolled your eyes at him and got up.

“No”, you told him. “Not alone. We’re in California. There’s always a drought somewhere”, you added as you walked past him and over to your bathroom.

You heard his footsteps coming closer rather quickly and the next second you felt his fingers grabbing your sides and tickling you.

You squealed and ran into your bathroom with a giggle.

 After the shower, you moved to the bed, laying down and cuddling up to each other. You must have dozed off because when you opened your eyes again, the bed next to you was empty and your heart sank into your stomach. Not again.

When you sat up, you found Chibs sitting on the foot-end of the bed, smoking. He was in thoughts and hadn’t noticed you had woken up.

You wrapped the sheet around your upper body and moved over to him. You pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades and wrapped your arms around him from behind, putting your chin on his shoulder. He looked over at you out of the corners of his eyes and then turned forward again, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I can hear you think”, you mumbled after another few minutes of silence, when you realized that he was not going to say anything soon. He exhaled and got up. You now saw that he had put on his underwear again.

He paced in front of the bed, a stern look on his face, his jaw clenching and his brows knitted together. You watched him, tilting your head to the side. He stopped and put the cigarette between his lips.

“You’re not just worried about me, are you?”, you said when you saw his face. He looked down at his feet, taking a long drag of his cigarette. His eyes darted up to you, lingered on your face for a few seconds and then looked down at his feet again.

Something made him nervous and that wasn’t an easy thing to do. And that made you nervous. But that wasn’t what he needed right now.

“You don’t have to tell me any details, I know you won’t, but I wanna be here for you. Tell me as much as you feel comfortable or nothing at all. I won’t ask any questions”, you suggested and held your hand out to him.

He stood there, contemplating. His eyes wandered over your face, then to the floor, then your face again. He sighed deeply and took a last drag of his cigarette before putting it in the ashtray.

He grabbed the hand you were still holding out to him. You moved backwards until your upper body was resting against the headboard of the bed. Chibs climbed back on the bed and followed you. He moved his body between your legs and rested his head on your belly. Your fingers started combing through his greying hair, your thumb caressing his forehead and temple.

He didn’t tell you anything, you weren’t really expecting him to. But you felt his body easing up a bit and his breathing calming down.

You reached over to the nightstand to text Lyla that you couldn’t come in tonight, but it was empty. Your phone was still in your purse by the door. You didn’t dare to move as it seemed that Chibs had fallen asleep.

You kept running your hand through his hair, your other hand stroking his back in a soothing motion.

You would have to apologize to Lyla tomorrow for not showing up but you wouldn’t trade this moment right here for the world.

next part Maybe baby

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Fire

Rated X / 3377 Words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s suggestion that he take her to lunch wasn’t a serious one, but he takes her anyway. He’s too distracted in the wake of Phoebe’s surprise visit to get any work done at this point, and he figures he owes her one after she single handedly solved the case while he was busy being mindfucked by Scotland Yard’s finest. He takes her somewhere just a little bit dingy with a full bar, the kind of place they aren’t likely to run into any of their cohorts from the Bureau. While they’ve never directly discussed it, he’s sure she’s aware there’s some gossip circulating about them, and though it’s entirely baseless, it’s best not to feed the beast in his experience.

He’s a little embarrassed that Scully bore witness to the power Phoebe clearly still has over him. He’s a little embarrassed to learn that, even ten years later, when she says jump he still asks how high, and then tries to double it. The moment she kissed him he felt like that naive college boy again, so starved for affection that he’d take it from the teeth of a snarling dog and then thank it for biting him.

He suspects that Scully only orders a drink so he’ll feel comfortable doing the same, though she reasons that she doesn’t really have anything else that needs finishing today, so it’s not an issue if her afternoon is a total loss. She’s actually a really good friend, now that he’s thinking about it. He’s only ever thought of her as his partner, but she shows up for him outside of work, too. And while he might have expected her to bristle at his moderately unprofessional behavior during the investigation, she’d only rolled her eyes and gently teased him, much like a friend would.

“So,” she says halfway through their second round of drinks. He can tell by the wry smile on her mouth that she’s wading into uncharted territory. “Would I be correct if I guessed that Phoebe ripped your heart to pieces and then told you to clean up the mess?”

Mulder cringes a little, but he’s smiling too. Not because it’s funny, but because she’s right.

“Something like that,” he says, then takes a sip of his drink. “Though I wish I could say it only happened once.”

“Ah,” Scully says knowingly, sitting back in her seat and resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

They both removed their suit jackets the moment they sat down, and Mulder has since loosened his tie and cuffed his shirtsleeves. Scully is wearing one of those ruffled blouses she seems to have in every color, the ones that have a rather deep V in the neck that’s made modest by all the excess material surrounding it. Sometimes he looks at her in her boxy suits and shoulder pads and thinks about what she looked like in nothing but her bra and panties under candlelight, but he’s careful never to let her see him looking at her that way. The fact that she’s beautiful is filed away in his mind behind more pertinent traits like intelligent, brave, determined, funny, and loyal.

“Pathetic, I know,” he says, looking down at his glass to hide the chagrin on his face. “And she just about looped me in for another round, if I’m being honest.”

“The sex was that good, huh?” she says, and he snaps his head up to be sure that it’s still his consummately professional partner sitting across the table from him.

She’s still there, the skin on her chest flushed pink with booze. She smirks behind her glass, perhaps a bit proud of her locker room talk.

“Depends on your definition of good, I guess,” he answers honestly. “It was pretty wild, and at the tender age of twenty-one, wild was as good as it got.”

Scully’s eyebrows raise curiously and he feels his groin grow just a bit heavy. He’s not sure how explicit of a discussion she’d be open to, but he’s interested in finding out.

“Are we talking ‘group sex’ wild, or ‘masochism’ wild?” she asks, just as casually as if she were asking him what classes he and Phoebe had together at Oxford. Mulder clears his throat.

“I think there was undeniably some masochism involved on my part, but more like high-risk or transgressive.”

“Transgressive,” Scully repeats with interest, her head tilting thoughtfully to the side. She doesn’t ask, but he tells her anyway.

“She, uh…she gave me a blow job on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave once, as an example,” he says, hiding his pride behind sheepishness.

A slow grin breaks out over Scully’s face, and Mulder feels a warm flush all over his body.

“Agent Mulder,” she admonishes him lightly, picking up her nearly empty glass and sucking the last bits of liquid off the bottom. “How disrespectful.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking between her smiling face and the table top. “I think that was kind of the point. It was hardly worth it, though. She broke up with me the next day with no explanation and she was sleeping with one of my friends by the end of the week.”

Scully’s smile fades and she holds her glass up, making eye contact with their waiter and gesturing that they’d like another round.

“Mulder, I’ve known plenty of women like her,” she says, her tone shifting as she uncrosses her legs and leans in. “She hates herself so much that the only thing that brings her any pleasure is to be pursued. She showers men with affection and attention, and then withdraws it as soon as she knows they’re hooked.” She pauses while the waiter drops off fresh drinks and takes away their empty glasses, as well as the remains of their lunch. “Men chasing after her, asking what they did wrong and how they can win her back, is the entire objective. Let me guess, if you ever call her out on it she acts offended that you’d define her character based on a couple little mistakes?”

Now Mulder sits back in his chair, disturbed by such an accurate description of his tumultuous relationship with Phoebe.

“Were you secretly attending Oxford in 1983, Scully?” he asks uncomfortably, then takes a gulp of his drink that burns all the way down his throat.

She smiles, pleased with herself.

“Phoebe isn’t nearly as unique as she’d like you to think, Mulder,” she says, resting her elbows on the table and then her chin on her joined hands.

“Well, she sure pulled one over on me,” he says, feeling embarrassed again. “More times than I care to admit.”

He drags his middle finger through the ring of water left by his glass, drawing slow, contemplative circles on the table top. Scully’s hand appears from his periphery and settles over his own, and she waits until he looks up at her.

“It’s not your fault, Mulder,” she says tenderly. “She saw a vulnerability in you and she took advantage of it. Having been on the receiving end of that myself, I can empathize with the fact that it’s difficult to see it for what it is when you’re in the middle of it.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he says lightly, trying to reclaim the playful banter he’d been enjoying a few minutes ago.

Scully withdraws her hand and picks up her glass.

“I wish that I were,” she says wistfully. “Though I can’t say that my own youthful hijinks included oral sex on the gravesites of famed authors. I’m disturbed to learn the origin of your private joke, by the way.”

Mulder laughs, but he also entertains a mental image of Scully spread-eagle on the trampled grass in front of Doyle’s cement headstone, a dark-haired man’s head between her legs.

“Glad to hear you don’t think I’m a total schmuck,” he says.

“No, not a schmuck,” she assures him with a shake of her head. “I will admit to being a bit surprised by how submissive you were towards her, though.”

The comment was clearly offhand, based on her demeanor, but it hits him like an insult.

“Submissive?” he repeats, sitting up a little taller. “What makes you say that?”

She considers him for a moment before answering.

“You deferred to her in every respect,” she explains. “It was quite clear that she was in charge.”

“It was her case,” he shoots back. “Of course she was in charge.”

Scully holds up both her hands, palms facing him, in surrender.

“Forget I said anything,” she says. “We should probably get back to work soon.”

“I’m not submissive, Scully,” he says emphatically, ignoring her previous statement.

“I didn’t mean it pejoratively, Mulder; it’s not a bad thing to be. I was simply saying that I was surprised by it.”

“Well whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong,” he says sternly, trying to catch her eye.

Reluctantly, she makes eye contact and holds it for a beat.

“Whatever you say,” she says, acquiescent but characteristically skeptical.

Mulder clenches his jaw, holding back a tawdry remark. He waves their waiter over and asks for the check, as well as a cab, and then drains his glass. Fifteen minutes later they pile into the back seat of a taxi, buzzed to the point of uselessness as far as work is concerned.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks, meeting Mulder’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Alexandria,” he says, and Scully looks over at him.

“No, the J. Edgar Hoover building,” she corrects, and Mulder levels her with a steely stare.

“No, Alexandria,” he says again, and her eyebrows furrow.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“Where to, folks? Meter’s running,” the cabbie says, annoyed.

“Alexandria,” Mulder repeats, turning to look out the window as the cab pulls away from the curb.

He feels Scully’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at her right away. He makes her wait nearly two full blocks before he slowly turns his head and takes in the thoroughly confused expression on her face. Even then, he doesn’t proactively justify his actions like he typically would. He just looks at her, letting his eyes fall to the exposed skin on her chest and then dragging them slowly back up to her face. She opens her mouth and closes it, swallows, then finally turns to look out the window, and he finds himself fighting off a smile. He’s already rendered her speechless and he’s just barely getting started.

The cab deposits them in the parking lot of his apartment building, and after paying the driver he wordlessly heads inside, relying on his reflection in the glass doors to confirm that Scully is following behind him. In the elevator, he again feels her staring him down but does not reward her with eye contact. He behaves as though she isn’t there until the doors open on the fourth floor, at which point he gives her another once-over glance and then says, “After you,” in a tone that tells her it’s a directive, not an offer.

He follows her too-closely down the hall. Not so close that she could rightfully question it, but closer than is socially acceptable. When she arrives in front of apartment forty-two he reaches past her, key in hand, to unlock it, effectively trapping her between his body and the door. She stiffens but doesn’t speak, and when the door swings open he has to touch her back to encourage her inside. She stands in his foyer while he deposits his wallet, keys, and cellphone in their designated places, seemingly waiting to find out what will happen next.

He slips her suit jacket off her shoulders and she lifts her arms out of it, watching him curiously as he hangs it on the billiard ball coat rack near the door. He can feel that her tolerance to continue waiting for the punchline is waning, so he nods toward the dining room table behind her and says, “Have a seat.”

Scully turns to look at each of the three chairs set around the table. One is hosting a stack of books, one a pile of unfolded laundry, and the other a banker’s box full of junk he was planning to donate.

“Where?” she asks flatly, one eyebrow raised.

Mulder steps forward and grabs her by the waist, hoisting her up onto the tabletop. She makes a startled little gasping sound and wraps her hands around his forearms, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asks, alarmed.

He pushes even closer, so close that he’s occupying the space between her open legs, his hands still on her waist, and leans down as though he’s going to kiss her. She stays stock still, her eyes open, and at the last second he shifts his head to the side and brushes his lips lightly across her ear.

“Who’s submissive now?” he whispers, and he feels her shiver at the tickle of his breath.

He leans away from her, grinning victoriously and expecting to see something along the lines of embarrassment or irritation on her face, but she looks awestruck. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes unfocused, and she’s breathing heavily.

“Scully?” he asks hesitantly. Did he take it too far? Did he scare her?

Her hazy eyes take a meandering path up his chest to his face, then narrow a little. Her jaw sets, the corner of her mouth quirks, and she reaches up with one hand to grab hold of the loosened tie still hanging from his neck. He opens his mouth in preparation to apologize, but she tugs hard and his mouth crashes into hers. Suddenly he’s tasting whisky and lipstick, and the heels of her shoes are digging into his ass.

Something he should have guessed about Dana Scully is that she takes no prisoners. The one time he attempts to come up for air with the intention of making sure she’s thought this through, she silences him with her hot little hand down the front of his dockers, and he decides that they’ll just have to learn to lie in the bed they’re making. She pops half the buttons off his shirt when she artlessly tears it open, then rips his undershirt off over his head so violently she just about takes one of his ears with it. She gets him down to his boxers while she’s still perched on the edge of his dining room table, fully dressed, and he realizes that he’s completely ceded control to her.

Her hands are just slipping under the waist of his boxers, preparing to divest him of the last scrap of clothing on his body, when he grabs them and pins them to the table beside her hips on either side. She looks up at him, panting, and smiles.

“Point taken, agent,” he says, his face inches from hers.

“You do realize that brute force isn’t dominance, right?” she playfully chides him, looking at one of her restrained hands and then the other.

She’s so sassy, a trait she normally doles out in bite size pieces, and he’d be a damn liar if he tried to claim he didn’t like it.

“What was your plan here?” he asks, grateful that the bend in his waist necessary to hold her hands against the table is obscuring the fact that he’s half-hard.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorts haughtily.

A beat passes, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip nervously. It occurs to him that maybe this isn’t just a prank that’s gone too far.

“Are you drunk, Scully?”

She sighs, her head lolling to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe a little bit,” she confesses. “Are you?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he agrees. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Not yet,” she says, and something in the tenor of her voice sends blood rushing to his lap.

“Would you like me to?” The words leave his mouth before he’s given them even a split second of consideration, and the resulting flash of adrenaline makes him dizzy.

“Maybe a little bit,” she answers, her chest heaving.

The second he lets go of her hands so he can simultaneously kiss her and get to work unbuttoning her blouse, she pushes his boxers off his hips, leaving him nude. She doesn’t touch him right away, though she makes no attempt to hide her appreciative leering, and the combined pride and desperation bolster his confidence to the point that they quiet the little voice in his head that’s telling him this is a bad idea.

In short order, he fills in the details of her body that were previously hidden beneath white cotton. Her breasts are small but perfectly proportioned, and when she lifts her hips and allows him to divest her of her slacks and panties, he finds a full patch of ginger curls between her legs.

For a moment they just look at each other, her hands on his waist and his resting on the tops of her thighs. When he looks at her face and she meets his eye, he at once realizes the gravity of what’s happening and also that it’s already too late to avoid whatever the consequences will be. Nonetheless, he’s afraid.

Scully smiles demurely and tosses her head to get her hair out of her face.

“You’re not getting submissive on me, are you?” she asks playfully, though he senses that she’s a little afraid too.

He allows himself to get lost in living up to her expectations, almost like he’s playing a role. He’s the man who carries her to his couch and tells her to watch while he tastes the slickness between her legs. He’s the man who holds her hands above her head while he makes her come with his fingers. He’s the man who hands her a—miraculously—unexpired condom and instructs her to put it on him, and then he is the man who bends her over the arm of his couch and tries not to seem too proud when she gasps at the size of him and comes again within a minute.

She moves to sit on the couch, her legs wobbling, and looks skeptically at the condom still snuggly covering his erection, which isn’t waning in the least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t finished,” she says breathlessly as she pulls a blanket off the back of his couch to cover her nudity.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. Diana never did. Or she didn’t care enough to say anything about it, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tugging the condom off and retrieving his boxers from the floor near the table.

“Are you that drunk?” she asks, mildly alarmed.

“No,” he answers quickly. “It just…doesn’t always happen for me.”

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully, and he wishes she’d stop looking at him like that. Like she might actually listen if he told her about the other ways Phoebe took advantage of his vulnerability. About how difficult it is for him to let go in front of someone else now. About how lonely it makes him feel.

He sits beside her and they talk for a long time. About nothing. About everything. About what they just did and what it means for them. Eventually, he does tell her about Phoebe. She doesn’t make him feel weak or silly, or express surprise that a man could experience that kind of issue. She’s empathetic, and angry on his behalf, and she doesn’t take it personally or claim to know how to fix him like most women do. The booze wears away and a new kind of trust is forged, and he gets the feeling that she might turn out to be the best friend he’s ever had.

When she kisses his cheek and slips her hand under the waist of his boxers, he knows that it’s not out of pity. She doesn’t touch him like he’s broken or treat him like a project, and he doesn’t feel any pressure to perform. She coaxes him to the edge and he trusts that she’ll be there to catch him when he falls.

He lets go.

[wrappedinamysteryy]

What is Charity? Shaykh Zubair bin Khalid Marjalvi حفظه الله said:

Charity doesn't just mean giving away wealth. There are other forms of charity:

1️⃣ Saying Subhan Allah, Alhamdulillah, Allahu Akbar, Astaghfirullah and La Ilaha Illalah is charity. [See: Sahih Ibn Hibban 3377]

2️⃣ Saying anything that is good - be it one word - is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2989]

3️⃣ Greeting every person you meet with the Salam is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 720]

4️⃣ Greeting your brother with a smile and pouring water from your vessel into his vessel is charity. [See: Sunan At-Tirmidhi 1956]

5️⃣ Teaching others after having sought knowledge yourself is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 1631]

6️⃣ Dealing between two people with justice and fairness is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2707, 2891, 2989]

7️⃣ Reconciling between people is charity. [See: Al-Mu'jam Al-Kabir 31, Sunan Abu Dawud 4919, Sunan At-Tirmidhi 2509]

8️⃣ Praying two Rakah's in the forenoon is charity on behalf for your bones. [See: Sahih Muslim 720]

9️⃣ Every step taken towards the Masjid to offer the compulsory prayer is counted as charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2989]

1️⃣0️⃣ Refraining from harming others is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2518]

1️⃣1️⃣ Giving respite to someone in difficulty is charity. [See: Sunan Ibn Majah 2418, Musnad Ahmad 23046]

1️⃣2️⃣ Removing something harmful from a road or street is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 1007]

1️⃣3️⃣ Commanding the good, forbidding the evil, helping the blind and deaf and picking/lifting the supplies or materials on behalf of a weak person is charity. [See: Sahih Ibn Hibban 3377]

1️⃣4️⃣ Helping a Muslim brother or a person in need is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari: 1445]

1️⃣5️⃣ Giving someone a ride in your vehicle is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2707, 2891]

1️⃣6️⃣ Taking care of someone's luggage is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 2989]

1️⃣7️⃣ Feeding a hungry person is charity. [See: Musnad Ahmad 16647, Sahih Ibn Hibban 374, Al-Sunan Al-Saghir of Al-Bayhaqi 3410)

1️⃣8️⃣ Anything that is eaten from a tree or seed someone planted will be a charity for him. [Sahih Al-Bukhari 2320, 6012]

1️⃣9️⃣ Giving someone water to drink is charity. [See: Sunan Abu Dawud 1680, Sunan An-Nasai 3664]

2️⃣0️⃣ Spending upon your family is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 55, Sunan Abu Dawud 1691, Sunan An-Nasai 3535]

2️⃣1️⃣ Having physical intimacy with your wife is charity. [See: Sahih Muslim 720]

2️⃣2️⃣ Benefitting yourselves from the wealth you earned from your own hands is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 145]

2️⃣3️⃣ Spending on your relatives who are poor or aren't financially stable is charity. [See: Sunan An-Nasai 2582, Sunan Ibn Majah 1844]

2️⃣4️⃣ A date given from one's Halal wealth in Allah's path is charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 1410]

2️⃣5️⃣ Giving a she-camel or she-goat is the best charity. [See: Sahih Al-Bukhari 5608]

📚 The Different forms of Charity p.1-13 [Summarized]

[ao3feed-itafushi]

a condition called love

by earthtodora Megumi gets injured, and the whole incident is causing Yuuji the realization that he might, in fact, be in love with his friend. Chaos ensues. --- "You have a condition." "Yes," Yuuji nodded vigorously. "A, um, a brain thing." "A brain thing," Megumi repeated. The boy didn't look convinced, and Yuuji didn't blame him. He was a terrible liar. "So, I, uh, sometimes, my, brain, uh, gets confused, and, it says stuff, that, uh, isn't true," the pink-haired boy rambled, trying desperately to save the situation. "I-Is that so?" Megumi murmured, his face unreadable. "Yeah," Yuuji mumbled. "Um, it's, it's called, uh, I, forgot what it was called." Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime), 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Ieiri Shoko Relationships: Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji Additional Tags: Oblivious Itadori Yuuji, Attempt at Humor, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Feelings Realization, Confessions, First Kiss, Itadori Yuuji Loves Fushiguro Megumi, Slice of Life, Fluff and Humor, Pining, Friends to Lovers, Kugisaki Nobara is a Little Shit, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Itadori Yuuji is Bad at Feelings, like really bad from AO3 works tagged 'Fushiguro Megumi/Itadori Yuuji' https://ift.tt/0VL9myt

[loulouwrites]

The Neighbour (2) . Alfie Solomons

warnings: angst, swearing, dv, peaky blinders stuff

sequel to The Neighbour

(if you like sad endings, like me, ignore this one)

(3377 words)

The shopkeeper smiled at the ten-year-old boy as he gathered the groceries in his arms, offering him a wave as he left the shop, the young boy being careful not to spill the glass bottle of milk that was buried in the crook of his arm. Thomas liked running errands for his parents, it made him feel important. He smiled at the women in the street, offering a nod to the men as he made his way home. He noticed how the mothers would look at him with a warm smile, wishing their children were as helpful as he was, it was well known that Thomas was a polite and useful child, when other children were running through the streets, joyful and carefree, Thomas was helping his mother with whatever she needed help with.

He weaved his way through the streets, the bread and milk secured in his arms, he couldn’t spill any, it would be a waste of money and his father didn’t like it when he wasted money. Thomas didn’t like his father that much, he was okay, he didn’t hurt him and he was gone for most of the day anyways, he could be alright sometimes-like when he helped Thomas with his schoolwork or taught him how to play cards- but Thomas didn’t like it when he shouted at his mum. His dad didn’t hit his mother, he just threw things sometimes, but it made his mum sad, and that made him sad.

Thomas had rounded the corner to his street when a man bumped into him, knocking the groceries out of his arms. The man didn’t stop, leaving Thomas stood there, looking at the ground, where the bottle had smashed against the pavement, the milk running onto the road. He stood there for a while, watching as the stream of milk grew, streaming along the road and into the drain.

“You okay there, Thomas?” the young boy looked up from the mess on the ground to see his neighbour looming over him.

“I’m fine, Mr Solomons,” Thomas sighed, kicking a shard of glass from the bottle with his foot, knowing his mother would kill him if his shoes got scratched “I spilled the milk.”

“There’s a famous saying about spilled milk, y’know,” the older man joked, a small frown on his face as he watched the boy, so sad over a broken bottle of milk.

“It’s a waste of money. Mum won’t care but…” the boy trailed up, his face twisting as he kicked his foot back and forth against the path.

“Your…dad will, yeah?” Thomas just nodded at the man. Thomas liked Mr Solomons; he had lived on the street even before his parents had. His mum didn’t like him that much, he wasn’t sure why because Mr Solomons had always done right by him.

"My dad might not be home yet so it’s okay and if he is, Mum will deal with him.” Mr Solomons sighed at the boy’s words, it sounded like the sigh Thomas’ father did whenever Thomas had been clumsy. He watched as his neighbour reached into his pocket, pulling out some change.

“Right, ‘ere you go. Go and get another pint before your dad gets in.” The boy smiled reaching for the change Mr Solomons was holding out for him, freezing when a feminine voice rang out from behind the older man.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr Solomons.”

Mr Solomons turned around to face Thomas’ mother, who was stood with her hands on her hips, a glare on her face. Thomas didn’t like it when his mother looked angry, he thought she was the prettiest girl in the world, but she didn’t look pretty when she was annoyed.

"It’s alright, just helping the boy,” Mr Solomons’ voice looked calm, but even the ten year old boy could hear the uneasiness in his voice – he mustn’t like it when she’s angry either.

“He doesn’t need your help,” his mother snapped, reaching out an arm towards her son. “Thomas, your father is home, he’d like some help in the garden.” Thomas groaned but walked towards his mother anyway, not forgetting to pick up the bread from the pavement as he did. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and turned to walk towards their home but not before she threw a glare at their kind neighbour who was still stood in place, watching them leave.

..

Alfie wasn’t sure why he didn’t just move. It would save him a lot of pain, it would stop the pang he felt in his stomach every time he bumped into his young neighbour, he wouldn’t feel a sting every time the boy’s mother would rip her child away from him, as if he was a danger. Moving would solve most of his problems, but Alfie knew it wasn’t that simple. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he wasn’t able to look out his window and see the house across the street, keeping a watchful eye on the home of the nice family.

On the nights he came home from the bakery, he would pause at his front door longer than he needed, his head turned so he could see the house across the street. The lights were usually off, telling him everyone was safe and asleep, sometimes there was a warm glow coming from the living room, telling him the parents were still up, and Alfie rolled his eyes each time. He imagined them sat together on the sofa - the wife telling her husband telling her how her day was, what their son did that day - as if she wasn’t living a massive lie.

He came home late that Tuesday night, and the lights were off, but there was something different. Alfie studied the house, noticing a shadow moving from outside, under the steps of the front door.

“For fuck sake,” he muttered to himself, making his way across the road, reaching for the gun that was secured in his belt.

As he crossed the road he wondered if he should stop the figure doing whatever it was they were going to do, he wondered whether he should let the person break in, they’d probably kill the husband first, then he could burst in and rescue the other two residents of the house, and his problems would be solved. But Alfie wasn’t stupid enough to risk the lives of the only two people he cared about on the off chance the other one would die first. So, he slowly crept to where the figure was hiding in the shadows, in the dim spot between two streetlamps. He pulled the gun out of his belt, pointing it directly at the almost-intruder.

“For fuck’s sake, Alfie,” she hissed, her eyes widening at the sight of the gun pointed to her head.

“’For fuck’s sake’ me? What are you hiding under the steps for, you dozy cow?” he shouted at her, as she shushed him, waving her arms furiously.

“Do you only have one volume? Jesus Christ.” She stood up, brushing the back of her dress with her hands. He wasn’t sure what to do, he hadn’t spoken to her properly in ten years, he thought about it a lot. He thought about what he would say to her if he got the chance but as she stood in front of him, he froze, his gun in his hand hanging at his side

“What the fuck are you doin’ out here?” he said, quieter this time as he tucked his gun back in his belt.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I needed some air.”

“So you hide under the steps of your house?” He gave her a sarcastic smile.

“Yes.”

“Listen, love…” he started, he had something he needed to tell her, he knew he had to tell her, she deserved to know more than anyone, but she didn’t let him finish before she pushed past him, back into her house.

...

Thomas didn’t understand why his mum was so upset. He watched as she cooked breakfast, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, she always wore makeup. Her eyes had these awful dark circles under them, they stopped from looking so pretty.

The news of Alfie Solomons death had made it’s way through London like wildfire. Even the most prestigious people were talking about it. He heard his neighbours talking about it all the time ‘good riddance’ they would say ‘one less scumbag on the earth’ others would agree.

His dad had sent him to his room when he dared defend the memory of his dead friend.

“I don’t care what you say. Mr Solomons was always kind to me,” Thomas had said at the dinner table after his dad had joked that the beautiful house opposite would now be available for a nice family.

His mother didn’t step in when his dad shouted at him, she just frowned as she stabbed her potatoes with her fork. It annoyed Thomas, she always defended him. It had been weeks since Mr Solomons was killed, and his mother had been sad ever since. Thomas knew it wasn’t because of Mr Solomons - his mum hated him - it was just a coincidence. She just wasn’t happy anymore, she stopped trying so much, she didn’t try to make nice meals, she didn’t try to make herself look pretty, she just wandered around the house like a ghost.

"I need to run errands, would you like to come with me?" she smiled at the boy, who returned her smile, nodding enthusiastically. They spent almost the whole day at the markets, buying what they needed for dinner, as well as few other treats that they couldn’t tell dad about. Thomas liked running errands with his mum, she would always make a day of it, they would always get lunch somewhere nice and she would buy him sweets to eat on his way home.

Thomas was in his room, throwing a ball against the wall and catching it when it bounced back to him when his mother opened the door. She was wearing makeup again, wearing a nice dress and the expensive perfume his dad got her every Christmas.

“Mum?” He asked as he dug through the paper bag of sweets “Are you okay now?”

“What do you mean?” she asked him, laying a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“You were really sad for a bit”.

They were giggling as the entered the house, his mother dumped the shopping bags at the door, following him to the living room. They both froze in the doorway, their laughter stopping when they saw his dad sat on the sofa, holding an envelope in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other.

“Thomas,” his dad spoke, not looking at the boy. “Go to your room”

“I was,” his mum agreed. “But I’m okay now. I just needed a couple of weeks to be sad."

“But me and mum are going to make dinner.”

“Go, Thomas,” his dad said, a menacing smile on his face, he didn’t look at his son, his eyes were on his mother, who stood beside the young boy.

“It’s okay, Thomas,” she offered the boy a small smile, pushing him gently to the door. “We’ll make dinner later”

Thomas nodded and made his way upstairs. His door was barely closed when he heard his dad start to scream. It wasn’t unusual, but it felt different this time. His dad was never angry when he came home, he usually got angry when his mum dropped something or said something wrong.

Thomas had been in his room for close to an hour and his dad hadn’t stopped shouting. He slowly made his way out of his room and down the stairs, stopping outside the closed living room door, taking a seat on the floor.

“YOU FUCKING WHORE,” his dad screamed.

“How did you find out?” His mum’s voice was calm, it sounded like she’d been crying, but it was still calm. Calm and lovely.

“THE FUCKING LETTER. THE LETTER THE DEAD BASTARD SENT FROM MARGATE.”

“Wait? Margate?” The laugh Thomas’  dad let out scared the ten year old. It wasn’t like his mum’s laugh, it sounded cruel.

“That’s what you care about?” the man hissed, there was a commotion and Thomas heard his mum gasp

“Get off her!” Thomas ran up to the man, beating his small fists against the mans side, his dad let go of his mum, who fell to the floor, grabbing Thomas by his upper arms, picking him up from the floor.

“I am not dead,” his dad read out dramatically “I am in Margate. Same thing. I am sorry for what I did. My biggest regret is not allowing myself to be shot in the face by a short prick from Birmingham. My biggest regret is turning you away the day you told me you were carrying Thomas. I should have married you, we could have raised Thomas together, as it should have been.”

Thomas frowned, who was the letter from?

“I do not expect you to tell the boy who his real father is. I do not expect you to destroy your life for someone who is most undeserving, but I have been blessed with a second life and I could not live with myself if I did not express my true feelings. If you are stupid enough to come to me, I will be happy to welcome you, and my son, in Margate. Forever yours. ALFIE SOLOMONS,” his dad screamed; Thomas could hear his mum’s sobs which turned into a scream. He threw the door to the living room open, where his dad was holding his mum by her hair as she scratched at the man’s wrists, trying to break free.

“You,” his dad hissed, his teeth bared. Thomas thought he was the ugliest creature in the world “You fucking bastard. I should have known you weren’t mine. That you’re a fucking-“ he didn’t get to finish what he was going to say, a vase crashing against the back of his head, he dropped Thomas as he fell to the ground. Thomas cried, looking at the body of the man on the floor.

“He’s not dead, you fucking bitch. And he was nice enough to send you a letter. Shall we read it together?” There was another commotion, and his mother let out a shriek, the sound of glass shattering.

“Thomas,” his mother whispered, reaching for him but he pushed her away.

“Don’t touch me,” the boy cried. “I HATE YOU. I HATE BOTH OF YOU,” he ran out of the room, up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. He waited until his face was buried in his pillow before he allowed himself to cry, the bed shaking from his sobs. His life had been ruined because of his stupid parents.

...

Thomas rested his head against the window of the train, the rocking comforting him. His mother sat beside him, wary of her son, he didn’t understand what had happened, not really. He was only ten years old and his whole world had come crashing down in the space of a couple of hours. She laid a gloved hand on his knee, he was angry at her, but it was still comforting, because he loved her. He fiddled with the letter in his hands, he wanted to read it himself, he didn’t want to hear his dad’s voice when he thought about the words.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he muttered, his voice tired, it was past his bedtime but his mum said they had to leave the house immediately, barely giving him time to pack a bag.

“Some things are too complicated for a little boy, Thomas,” his mum said gently, removing her hand from his knee.

“So did Mr Solomons not want me?” he turned to look at his mother, resting his head against the back of his seat.

“Mr Solomons was very confused. But you said he was always kind to you,” the boy nodded in agreement, his eyes heavy from sleep.

He was awoken some time later by his mother gently shaking his shoulder. They walked out of the train station and Thomas took in the scenery before him. It was dark, but he could hear the faint sounds of birds chirping, the air felt fresher than it did in London, there wasn’t any smog or smoke, it was clean and fresh. He liked it here already.

His mum didn’t know where she was going, she muttered that she’d never been here before, looking down at the map in her right hand, as she gripped his hand with her left. Thomas walked along the wall that separated the beach from the pavement above, he’d never been to the beach before. He couldn’t see much, there weren’t many streetlamps, but he could hear the waves crashing against the wall, his mum said it was because the tide was in, that in the morning it would go back and there would be sand.

They eventually found the house, it was big, bigger than his house in London. He could feel butterflies in his stomach as his mother knocked on the door, it felt like they doubled when the light inside flickered on, muttering coming from inside. The door swung open, Thomas’ old friend stood on the other side, the boy’s eyes widened when he saw the man’s face, scarred and ugly, but not as ugly as his dad.

“The fuck are you two doin’ ‘ere?” Mr Solomons spat at the mother and son and Thomas’ head fell in disappointment at the man’s words. He really didn’t want him. His mum was about to speak when Mr Solomons face broke out into a grin “I’m just joking you two, you got my letter. Come in, come in,” he ushered them into the house, it was cluttered and dusty but Thomas found it comforting, it wasn’t cold and bare like his house.

Mr Solomons lead them to the living room, taking a seat on the chair, motioning for them to sit on the sofa. It was quiet for some time, his mum was sat stiffly next to him, Mr Solomons was studying them, a small smile on his face. Thomas tried to stifle a yawn in vain, his eyes still felt droopy, despite his excitement.

“How about we talk in the morning, kid? You need your rest.” Thomas nodded and allowed Mr Solomons to lead him to a bedroom, it wasn’t as cluttered as the other rooms in the house, it was bigger than his old bedroom, it just needed some toys. Thomas kicked off his shoes, lying down on the soft bed.

“Mr Solomons?” He called out sleepily to the man who was stood in the doorway, who hummed in response “I’m glad you’re my real dad.”

Mr Solomons coughed quietly, closing the door to his room slightly, but leaving it open just enough for a stream of warm light to come through.

[ezras--moon]

Therapy - Chapter I

drug dealer!Ezra x afab&fem!OC (Charlie)

Eventual smut in later chapters! 18+ if you plan to keep reading.

word count: 3377

Warnings: adult themes, read at your own risk! mention of SA (her mind goes into the gutter for a second, nothing actually happens.) drugs and descriptions of drug use, Ezra and Charlie are both way too hot (my fellow bi and pan sluts are very welcome) he's kind of insane probably?? in later chapters.

The first time she saw Ezra was thanks to her anxiety disorder rearing its ugly head after a particularly bad period of work related stress.

Charlie had tried everything.

Nothing was helping and she refused to have some high caliber addictive medication prescribed. Her sleep was irregular and light and she frequently woke from vivid nightmares. 

She needed something to at least take the edge off by day and preferably help her sleep as well. Ezra was a friend of her friend Tati, who’d given her the number after a brief correspondence with him, and said he could help.

So there she was, texting him at nine in the evening to ask if she could “leave some dollars with him”.

Ezra: Yes, come over. I’ll send the address. But hurry up.

She was put off by the tone, the lack of a greeting, and the way he made her even more anxious with the request at the end. Now it really felt like a mistake, but she couldn’t back out anymore, the need for relief too strong. Grabbing her keys and wallet, making sure she had enough cash on hand, she slipped into her shoes and left her apartment.

The address he’d sent was basically around the corner, just a seven minute walk away. Charlie wasn’t comfortable walking in the dark, alone, but what other choice did she have? The choice to call the whole thing off and just go home? That now seemed to come with the risk of annoying a stranger - and her anxiety would rather have her robbed and murdered in the street than inconveniencing somebody she didn’t even know.

Once she was walking, the cool air pleasantly blowing her hair out of her face, the roads being completely void of other people, it was easier to calm her breathing and focus on the task at hand without getting dizzy from the nerves. One, two, one, two, she counted her steps and watched her feet on the pavement. Rounding the corner into the road Ezra lived on, she looked at the GPS map on her phone leading her to his house. Just a few dozen more yards and she arrived at the apartment block, which looked very similar to her own.

There were so many names, none of them containing a full first name, so she just texted him.

Charlie: I’m downstairs

Looking up and taking in the tall building, Charlie checked for movement through the windows and neat balconies in the front. But a moment later, he just buzzed her in and she had to leap forward to the door to push it open in time. Inside, she listened - still not knowing where to go. A few levels above her, a door was unlocked and opened, quick steps approached the stairwells, and then somebody’s face came into view. A messy head of dark brown hair, she could make out a stubbled chin and two large hands gripping the railing.

“Fourth floor, there’s an elevator behind the stairs in front of you if you need it. I’ll wait!” he said, echoing, and his head disappeared.

Charlie did not want to get up there even remotely out of breath, how embarrassing that would be, so she cautiously went ahead and found the tall metal doors of an elevator tucked into the wall around the corner. The doors opened with an ominous creak, another source of fresh fuel for her general discomfort as she stepped inside and punched the button with the number four on it.

The ride up was unnerving, but finally, after what felt like an eternity in the tiny confines of the metal box, the doors opened and she stepped out. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath, huffing awkwardly when she laid eyes on Ezra in front of her. He was, unfortunately, handsome as fuck. 

There was a little blond streak in the mess of thick brown hair at his right temple, he was tall, broad shoulders, fairly big arms and the beginnings of toned shoulders peeking out of the hand cropped sleeves of a worn and torn Led Zeppelin shirt, a single dimple on his right cheek half hidden in his patchy mess of a trimmed beard - Charlie swallowed dryly. 

Why was he smiling? She’d assumed he was going to be apathetic or even a little mean, judging from his text. “Hi!” he said, still smiling brightly, “come in, please.” He led her inside the apartment right by the elevator, shutting the door behind her. 

To Charlie’s delight, a Golden Retriever was suddenly all over her, wagging his tail and sniffing, whining excitedly as she leaned down to pet him. “Hey, oh my gosh, who are you?” she cooed, scratching a floppy ear and squatting down to let the dog greet her properly.

Ezra chuckled, standing in a door in front of her, leaning against the frame. There was music playing somewhere, and she heard laughter - a girl. “That’s Jim. It’s short for Jimothy.” Ezra said, and Charlie cackled, looking up at him as the dog attempted to lick her face. “Really?” she asked. “Yes, really. He’s not mine though, so you better get all the head pats in now in case he won’t be around the next time you come over.” The next time? He was already on board with helping her out regularly?

“Whose is he?” Charlie asked. Ezra responded by gesturing for her to follow him into what looked to be his living room, where a petite blonde girl was sprawled on the couch just finishing a tray of nachos. The whole place smelled like weed. “Hey” the girl said, licking some cheese dip off her fingers and nodding at Charlie. “Hi” Charlie squeaked, and Ezra plopped down onto the couch next to the blonde. “This is Cee, Jim is hers” he introduced her, “and that’s Charlie. A new client.” The word client seemed foreign and wrong in this context, but Charlie shrugged it off with an awkward chuckle. Ezra pointed at an armchair to his left, “Sit down if you want. Actually, I would prefer it if you sat down, because it makes me nervous the way you’re standing there.”

Charlie obliged, sinking into the comfortable seat, such a stark contrast to how she was feeling on the inside. He looked at Cee now, furrowing his brows at the full glass ashtray on the coffee table. “You better empty this before you go home to your poor sweet girlfriend all stoned. I’m not cleaning up after you again.” he said, and he sounded like he was joking, not really mad. For some reason his demeanor set Charlie at ease; his voice was rich and warm, like he could make a fortune dubbing Dad characters in cartoons or recording audio books. Cee rolled her eyes but stood up from the couch, gathering an arm full of trash off the table and grabbing the ashtray on her way out the door.

Ezra took a kitchen scale out of a plastic container under the table along with a roll of aluminum foil. “So, I heard you have trouble sleeping, you’re nervous and shit? Anxiety?” he asked, folding his hands as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Charlie nodded. Ezra smiled, pulling out another big plastic box from where he’d gotten the scale and the foil. “I’ve got a few different strains you could try…” Charlie’s eyes widened when she saw how full of freezer bags filled with sticky purplish green buds the box was. The bags were all labeled with what she assumed were the market names of the strains and Hybrid, Indica or Sativa respectively. “How much money do you have on your person?” Ezra asked, fishing out a few of the bags and laying them out in front of him. “Uhm, I have like a hundred with me. I don’t know if the rates have changed at all since the last time I bought weed.” Charlie said, pulling her wallet out of her pocket. “Alright, a hundred will do, I can put something together. You know how to roll, or do you have a bong or something like that?” “I can roll, yeah.”

Charlie was calming down rapidly now, maybe it was the second hand smoke wafting through the living room, maybe it was the presence of a dog - maybe it was Ezra.

She watched him take various small pristine buds out of their bags, all kinds of pretty shades of purple and green, and place them on the scale one by one. Behind Charlie, Cee opened the apartment door. “I’m out, bye Ez!” “Bye! Say hi to Zara from me!” When he was done, he plucked all the buds off the scale and dropped them on a flat sheet of aluminum foil, neatly folding it up and sealing it at the edges. “There you go” he said, handing the package to her and holding out his other hand to accept the money, “and I’ll give you an herbal blend you can use instead of tobacco for rolling, it’s healthier, and some papers on the house. Pretty girl discount.”

The first time he saw Charlie, his expectations were neutral, just another contact in his phone.

Ezra didn’t expect to see a girl this pretty that evening; actually he’d expected a guy. He was about to send Cee home and call it a night, tired, when Tati had texted him to ask if he still had room in his contacts for her friend Charlie. “Sure” he’d replied, happy to gain another customer; it would help pay the rent. But when he looked down over the railing of the stairs in his apartment building, he spotted a young woman, and when she stepped out of the elevator, he could see she was fucking beautiful. She had wavy light brown hair, wearing it down past her shoulders with a middle part. Her face was freckled and pretty in an interesting way; an adorable nose, pouty mouth, long lashes the same shade as her hair and bright green eyes. He hoped she wasn’t just here as a one-off, wanted to see her again.

The second time she saw Ezra, her nerves were in much better shape.

Not only had her workload drastically reduced in the meantime due to word about her business having finally spread around town enough so she wouldn’t need to constantly hustle for customers anymore, the weed also helped tremendously. Charlie was still busy enough in her studio, taking portraits and driver’s license headshots during the day, and wedding and graduation photos in the evenings, but the advertising was the most stressful part, and there wasn’t a need for a lot of that anymore. It was easy not to fall into unhealthy smoking habits this way, only able to light up at night after coming home and kicking off shoes and jeans, and it worked wonders. She still had nightmares, but she’d had those ever since she was little. They weren’t as unnerving anymore and at least she could sleep at all. The general anxiety had mostly subsided too in the weeks since she’d started smoking again. When she’d called Tati and thanked her for referring her to Ezra, her friend had been overjoyed to hear she was doing much better. 

That day, she was almost out of weed. A twinge, a remnant, of the anxiety she’d felt about it last time swelled up in her chest when she hovered her thumb over the call button on her phone. Maybe she should just text him - but he’d asked her to call, and earlier too. So she sat on the steps in front of her apartment building and took a deep breath before finally getting over the inhibition and calling Ezra. It rang five times before he picked up.

“Hello?” he sounded sleepy, and the sound of his low voice distorted through the phone made her heart skip, for whatever reason. Stupid, she scolded herself internally. “Hey, it’s Charlie. Can I come over?” she asked, fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. There was rustling at the other end of the line, she assumed he was sitting up, maybe in bed or on his couch. “What time is it?” he yawned. “It’s almost seven. I just came home from work. Couldn’t do any earlier, sorry” she said. “Oh, you’re fine. Sure, I’ve got time, come on over!”

He was waiting for her at the elevator doors again, smiling, just like the first time, wearing a denim jacket over a Misfits shirt that was equally as worn as the Led Zeppelin shirt, and a pair of jeans that fit him just right… God damn it, she needed to get a hold of herself. “Hi” he beamed as he led her inside. The smell of the smoke hit her nose and she followed him into his living room where they both sat on the couch this time. It was, without question, one of the most comfortable couches she’d ever had the privilege of sitting on. Thick upholstery that just slightly budged under her weight invited her to lean back and linger, and so she did. 

“So how’d you like what I gave you?” he inquired, looking at her over his shoulder as he pulled up the scale and the box of weed again. “I loved it. It’s honestly helping me so much, I cannot thank you enough.” she chuckled nervously, shifting a little in her seat. He smiled brightly, the lines framing his eyes getting more visible, his dimple prominent and his soft looking lips revealing a neat row of teeth. “Good! That’s what I like to hear. So, same strains as last time?” he asked. She nodded, gave him a soft smile, and didn’t know what it was doing to him - but she could swear he glanced at her mouth for just a split second before focusing on bagging up some of his product for her. 

He worked quietly, then they exchanged the goods and the money, and she was ready to be walked out the door again, when he cleared his throat. “Hey, uh. I was actually gonna roll one for myself to smoke on the balcony just now, wanna join me?” She looked at him with wide eyes and she could fucking feel herself get flushed red. “Uhm… uhh” she stammered, fucking embarrassing. “You can say no, it’s no big deal. Just didn’t feel like smoking alone.” he continued, and she swallowed dryly. “Y-yeah, why not?” she squeaked, completely messing up trying to play it cool; and of course he noticed! He filed it away, dug his claws into her reaction and refused to let it go. He was going to have so much fun unwinding this pretty girl, and he could already tell it was going to be easy.

They sat on two wicker chairs on his balcony off his living room and had a pretty nice view of the neighborhood from up there. The roads were lined with small trees, the buildings weren’t ugly, and it was a beautiful late summer evening when Ezra lit the joint and leaned back in his seat, Charlie watching him in her peripheral. Fuck, he looked hot, greedily sucking on the joint and inhaling the smoke with a furrowed brow. He shrugged off his denim jacket and revealed those fucking arms and shoulders to her. She thought about how effortlessly he’d be able to just pin her down then and there and take her. And she wouldn’t even be able to defend herself. The thought was kind of fucked up, but it made her wet nonetheless. Just thinking about how strong he looked, how much taller he was than her, and her eyes wandered down over his chest and stomach. She spotted a slightly pudgy roll under the shirt there and her mouth watered. He looked hard and soft at the same time, and he smelled so good, and it was torture to be so close to him. Giving up trying to suppress these thoughts, she just decided to indulge. Maybe the weed would help - but it didn't; in fact, it made everything worse. He started talking to her after they’d passed the joint back and forth two times, and she felt light headed already.

“What do you do for work?” he asked. She took a long drag and passed the joint back to him before she replied. “I’m a photographer. I have my own studio, right down the road. Maybe you’ve passed it. The one next to the tattoo studio. Haven’t been there long, but I’m starting to get some traffic, finally.” she rambled, and she felt awkward for giving him such an unnecessarily detailed answer. “Damn, sounds cool. And you can live off of that?” Why was he so interested in her life all of a sudden? The pretty girl discount comment from last time returned to her thoughts as a fresh memory and suddenly her mouth felt dry. Reaching for the bottle of water he’d handed her and unscrewing the cap, she took a sip and nodded when he looked right at her, expecting another response. “Yeah, I’m very lucky.” she smiled.

She thought about asking him something too, but couldn’t come up with a good question. What do you ask your drug dealer about himself? “Do you have like an actual job?” she blurted out, and immediately regretted it. Ezra laughed, with his lungs full of smoke, so he started coughing and reached for her bottle of water. “Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that!” she said, handing him the bottle and watching him drink. He sat there, bright red, and tried to swallow those violent coughs - and even that was hot to her. Jesus H. Christ. Was there anything he wasn’t able to turn into a fetish for her on the spot?

Once he recovered, he kept laughing but passed her the joint for now. “Holy shit, that’s hilarious” he said, beaming at her, so finally she realized he wasn’t even slightly hurt by her question and giggled too. “I’m sorry, I meant to phrase that differently.” she began, “I meant to ask if selling weed is your only source of income, and if that’s a comfortable living.” He just grinned at her. “Sure. Yeah, it pays the bills and then some. I’m not a nine to five kinda guy” he said, taking back the joint and watching her blow out the smoke in his direction. She nodded, understanding completely. If she was still employed with somebody else or hell, even working in retail or service, she’d lose her mind too. “I don’t just sell weed, you know. I have other stuff, too. Just for your information, in case you’re interested in boosting my income with something more expensive” he winked, and she cocked a brow. “Like what?” He cleared his throat, still burning a little bit from the smoke making it into his vocal chords. “Well, right now I have ecstasy pills. I usually have a decent amount of mushrooms growing in my broom closet, too. Sometimes I get a vial of LSD and make my own chews and blotters.” he elaborated, and her eyes widened. “You know how to dose it correctly and shit?” she inquired, and he nodded. “Yeah, I went to college for chemistry. Got my diploma just to become a drug dealer, I guess.” Charlie laughed, and he smiled. “So, if you’re interested in anything, let me know and I’ll hook you up. We’ll make it work.” he said, so assuredly and confidently, like they were talking about anything other than illegal street drugs.

“I’ve never done shrooms,” Charlie said, taking another drag off the joint and leaving the rest for Ezra to finish. “Oh, you have to.” he said, “Let me indulge you some time. You can bring Tati if you want. We’ll have a good time up here.” Charlie gave him a shy smile. “I dunno,” she said, considering it for a while, weighing her options and ultimately coming to the conclusion that trying everything at least once had really been her philosophy throughout her whole life, so why stop now? “It would have to be a free weekend for me.” “Deal.”

[ao3feed-nace]

The last life

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/G8PKLxo by Vardo_Abernathy Для чего дана последняя жизнь? Исправить ошибки прошлого или исправить ошибки наших предков? Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Русский Series: Part 2 of Nancy Drew Fandoms: Nancy Drew (TV 2019) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Nancy Drew, Ace (Nancy Drew), Bess Marvin, Ned Nickerson, George Fayne, Tristan Glass Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Psychology, Feelings Realization, The Death Cure Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Epic Friendship, Missing Scene read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/G8PKLxo

[sterek-ao3feed-archive]

Teen Wolf New Moon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55455991 by zzeacat Preface Stiles was living a nightmare. One of the ones that he had awoken from screaming night after night these past months. One of those nightmares where you awake still panting and sweating from all the running dream you had been doing. Running for your life even though you can never seem to run fast enough. But Stiles wasn’t running for his life. His life was of little consequence to himself right now. The thought of the enemies he was about to face alone was more comforting than frightening. He was glad to know failure would most definitely end in his death. Because if he failed in this, he would lose that which gave him the will to live. So with false confidence, Stile strode into the harsh light and out from the shadows. Aka part 2 of my Twilight rewrite but Sterek. New Moon addition. Featuring Stiles being left by Derek because of plot reasons plenty of angst NO love triangle. I took New Moon and gave it my own twist to fit these two. Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 2 of Twilight saga Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Lydia Martin, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Talia Hale, Cora Hale Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twilight AU, New Moon AU, Werewolves, Mates, Spark Stiles Stilinski, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Depression, stiles gets sad, But then you knew that, because New Moon, It Gets Better, Scott is suipid, Kidnapping, Protective Stiles Stilinski, The red hoodie tm, Temporary Amnesia, Hospitals, Panic Attacks read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55455991

[ao3feed-peterstiles]

for a soft place to fall

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44380327

by noxum

Stiles, sick and attempting to avoid a demanding alpha/best friend, seeks out the one person he knows he'll be safe with.

Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf)

Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Additional Tags: Spark Stiles Stilinski, Beta Peter Hale, Sickfic, Sick Stiles Stilinski, Bad Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Hurt/Comfort, like 90 percent comfort 10 percent hurt, Soft Peter Hale, Soft Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Peter Hale, Fluff, Pre-Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/44380327

[dayeongi]

┍━━━━╝✹╚━━━━┑ SETTING SUN ┕━━━━╗✹╔━━━━┙ Masterpost

NEXT: ✹ DAWN ✹

TUMBLR TAG

SUMMARY: Temari had bigger fish to fry than most girls her age did; for example, surely most girls didn't have to figure out who was behind her father's assassination, go into protection under a fake identity, make sure Kankurō stayed alive, and keep Gaara from murdering anyone that slightly inconvenienced him. To top it off, she had to deal with her contact's annoying and whiny little shit of a shogi-playing Konoha Gakuen student mentee figure. Nara Shikamaru's problems were varied and many. To start with, despite having a fireproof success path already laid out for him, as the 16th generation of the Yamanaka Agricultural Services, Nara Pharmaceutical, and Akimichi Superfoods alliance, not knowing exactly what he wanted to achieve besides not burning the building down, his mother and Ino's nagging, Uzumaki Naruto always dragging him into his business, and Ino's attempt at matchmaking. The newest one, however, was Asuma's new employee. There was just something terrifying yet entirely too-enticing about the way she smiled.

Word Count: 76165

CHAPTER SUMMARY:

Chapter 1: UNFLINCHING

Summary: Rasa, the King, is assassinated. Temari and Gaara escape with the help of an unlikely ally.

Word Count: 4838

Chapter 2: TROUBLESOME

Summary: Shikamaru has a troublesome life full of troublesome people.

Word Count: 4116

Chapter 3: RED

Summary: Gaara is Gaara. Shikamaru meets the new student's older sister.

Word Count: 4774

Chapter 4: THE DESERT GIVES AND THE DESERT TAKES

Summary: Kankurō carries out Rasa's funeral. Kankurō deals with the council of lords. Gaara reminisces as Temari tries to learn more about the status in Suna.

Word Count: 4431

Chapter 5: SHOGI AND GOSSIP

Summary: Temari argues with Shikamaru. Naruto Narutoes. Shikamaru resists Ino's attempt to play matchmaker, and he gets along better with Temari. He believes "Kurumi" has a crush on the prince of Suna.

Word Count: 4655

Chapter 6: SCORPION WOMAN

Summary: Temari discusses Shikamaru with Asuma. Shikamaru observes her. Temari calls him disappointing. Kankurō argues with lady Chiyo and Ebizō.

Word Count: 4735

Chapter 7: PRYING

Summary: Kankurō discusses their plans and the investigation with Baki. Lord Tōjūrō harasses Kankurō. Temari thinks about her family. Shikamaru and Temari get to know each other better. Shikamaru avoids his mom. Gaara has a panic attack.

Word Count: 5177

Chapter 8: OF MEN

Summary: Kankurō meets Lord Tōjūrō's suggestion as his assistant.

Word Count: 3551

Chapter 9: OF WOMEN

Summary: Kankurō does cool spy leader stuff, Shikamaru gets a reckoning, and Temari is generous. (What is this world coming to?)

Word Count: 4331

Chapter 10: FRICTION, GRAVITY

Summary: Shikamaru and Temari enjoy the summer festival. Gaara loses it.

Word Count: 4593

Chapter 11: LOVE OF ALL KINDS

Summary: We finally learned what happened to Gaara. Shikamaru and Temari move forward? Kankurō struggles under the weight of duty.

Word Count: 5508

Chapter 12: TRAPS AND WARNINGS

Summary: Gaara is trying to cope with confusing feelings. Temari goes up the mountains. Kankurō faces what he had expected to face.

Word Count: 5196

Chapter 13: SELF-DECEIT PT 1

Summary: An attempt on Kankurō's life brings Temari and Gaara into hiding. Shikaku meets with Temari and asks her to do something for Shikamaru's sake. Shikamaru is confused by a change in Temari's attitude.

Word Count: 3735

Chapter 14: SELF-DECEIPT PT 2

Summary: Shikamaru makes one last ditch effort by trying to make Temari jealous. It doesn't work, so he ends up doing something he will regret. Gaara is making efforts to get along and make amends. Kankurō and Baki have a conversation that leaves Kankurō discomposed.

Word Count: 3377

Chapter 15: CORRODED

Summary: Kankurō and Salamander have a conversation about the crown. Gaara visits Sasuke in the hospital and sticks his entire leg in his mouth. His medication is not working. Lady Anzu's arrest brings more things to light. Temari is dealing with a lot.

Word Count: 4446

Chapter 16: DEATH UNLEASHED

Summary: Gaara's medication has strange side effects and he gets no reassurance from his psychiatrist. Somehow, Temari and Gaara become closer. Kankurō meets with Hakuto Hōki. Things unravel for Temari and Gaara as they return from his psychiatrist's office and someone is after their lives. Shikamaru is in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Word Count: 4684

Chapter 17: REGRET AND REPENTANCE

Summary: Shikamaru gets no meaningful answers from Asuma. Temari, Gaara, and Kankurō reunite.

Word Count: 3937

[ao3feed-xicheng]

Turns out the Campus Heartthrob is Secretly a Bully BF??

by cloudrecesses “You’re staring again,” Meng Yao hisses in his ear and Lan Huan breaks out of his trance. “Right, sorry.” Lan Huan says, breath hitching as he watches Jiang Cheng make her way towards them, hips swaying. She is no longer ignoring him now, as of the past week, but even though Meng Yao reassures him that this means that she’s coming around, that it’ll be anytime now that she’ll come back to him, Lan Huan isn’t so sure of that. Not when she only nods her acknowledgement to them before she addresses Nie Mingjue. “Mingjue-gege,” she says in a sweet voice, and Lan Huan wants to punch a wall. OR Xicheng break up for a silly reason and both come up with ridiculous plans to get back together. It works. Words: 3377, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Cartoon), 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Audio Drama), 魔道祖师 | Módào Zǔshī (Webcomic), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin, Lan Huan | Lan Xichen Relationships: Jiang Cheng | Jiang Wanyin/Lan Huan | Lan Xichen Additional Tags: Female Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Dubious Consent, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén Has a Breeding Kink, jiang cheng has a breeding kink, Temporary Break Up, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female Mèng Yáo | Jīn Guāngyáo, Vaginal Sex, implied babytrapping, Possessive Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Creampie, Crack Treated Seriously, Gender or Sex Swap, Misunderstandings via https://ift.tt/OxXf0bs