#then there was ANOTHER bastard in the sink while i was cleaning the bowl i wanted to eat from

[lilgynt]

i know the roaches own my house but like i’m paying them rent kind of own it

[moongoopy]

The Fingernail Issue

c: gojo wasn't told of toji having a sibling leading him to wonder what kind of brother toji fushiguro was

c/w: Reader is adopted here, modern au, fluff, Toji's family are not a bunch of assholes, Reader is Toji's adoptive sibling, platonic and crack and humour ig

a/n: thought about this while making potato chips

"You have a sibling!? Why haven't you told us?"

"There was no need."

Toji slurped his noodles, ignoring the groan that he got from Gojo Satoru. Being in the same club with Gojo Satoru and a few other extras proved to be quite fun. He thought joining the basketball club with egocentric people would be infuriating but in this little group he managed to make friends suprisingly. He let Sukuna take his shrimp while he shrugs, right now; Gojo was quite adamant on getting to know his kid sibling that was in the same school as him, just two grades lower than him.

Geto slips in a joke if he wanted to court them or something since the white haired male next to him who was currently miming a camera with his two hands. Just the thought of another Fushiguro gave him the heebie jeebies, he was already offputting with how crass his personality was, his sibling would probably be the same. He gagged to Geto's comment, his hand on his chin when he thought about it.

"Unless, your sibling isn't a carbon copy of you and is way more better than you.."

Sukuna waved his hand to deny that sentence with a smirk and it received a nudge from Toji, they had this whispering thing they had going on to keep secrets away from Gojo and they giggle like two middle schoolers finding out about a dirty secret.

"Oh so you've met them, Ryoumen?" Nanami sipped his coffee, he had his notebook infront of him, consistently taking notes since he'd miss a day of school and its already biting him in the ass. The pink haired male shrugged, copying the same move as his friend that made Gojo click his tongue to.

"If you don't like them, why are you even curious?"

Gojo defended himself, "Its not that I dont like them, I barely met them. Its just that.."

Without noticing he painted an image of you even before seeing you in the flesh so maybe you weren't that bad. Gojo just cant imagine Toji having a sibling, would he be a doting brother? A strict one? Geto had stated stuff about dating and he barely batted an eye so it looked like to Gojo that Toji didnt really care about you but the next words that Toji said irked him.

"You look like you have a lot on your mind, Gojo. Mind sharing?"

Toji finished his noodles but thought of leaving some of the soup at the bottom, thats where all the seasonings sink to. Knocking his chopsticks into the bowl, he leaned forward to hear what Gojo had say. Gojo was the type to walk past the obvious and it was funny. Seeing THE Gojo Satoru struggle was entertaining.

"Nah, I'm good, I'll just see them myself." He bit on his lollipop, crunching up the last bits down his throat.

"Good luck finding them then," The black haired man got up from his seat with his tray and Gojo gasped. He hasn't even finished asking questions but knowing him, he loved avoiding questions like some personal torture he lets people go through.

"I'm bringing my mom to the clinic so I gotta run," Toji gruffly said, grabbing his jacket and he was so fast to slip away.

"Hey! Are you sure you're not using that as an excuse again? Me and Suguru legit saw Mrs. Fushiguro doing laps the other day!"

"Even did some cardio too.." Geto chuckled, remembering how Toji's mom proudly confessed how she had done a lot of stuff in one day. It made him smile while Gojo was sulking like a poodle beside him. Sukuna cleared his throat from eating and cleaned his plates up. He glanced at Gojo mischeviously.

"Well.. if you want to know one thing.." Sukuna dragged the silence a little longer before chuckling. "They're a bit of the same."

Sukuna too walks away, waving slyly to meet up for practise soon and Gojo scoffed. That sleazy bastard thought that information on you was new.

"That was sooo lame."

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

Toji had his hands on the wheel, listening to his mother talk about what should they have for dinner. In between talking about your favourites and if his dad was gonna come home, she recalled the days where you first came home.

Mama Fushiguro liked recalling this a lot and when many people were bored by this tale by now, Toji showed interest. He didn't admit though when he finally had a kid sibling in his house, he was actually pretty elated. The house was quiet on its own with himself but with you, it was like he had a friend.

When you are adopted, his peace wasn't disrupted at all but it was like yours was. You were in a completely new environment but not unfamiliar. You had been fostered before but he didn't pry into your past, there was no need to he thinks. It was normal for you to be distant even if his parents try to pry you out your shell like a cat with its nails stuck on the walls. You claw back to your comfort and wasn't all that talkative.

He didn't force you to talk or advise you on anything because it was clear you could handle yourself, you just like to keep to yourself more than his parents. But knowing this doesn't make the bond between you and him all the more stumped. He did attempted to eventhough his mother would nag about how it was barely anything; calling you down for dinner wasn't talking and hell, task dividing either!

Going to the same college didn't made you two any closer. He thought asking you about school was corny and didn't bother, he didn't really think much of it. By the tired look in your face, it was more than enough to know what you've been through but he was sure you stayed out of trouble because he made sure of that.

He took his usual route back to the car but realise you were a bit late. You weren't usually tardy, he was and even so you would still wait for him out of courtesy. He spun back around and thought of fetching you in an instant. Maybe now was the time he would open his mouth and talk to you.

There was a bit of a ruckus in one of the classrooms. If he didn't had sharp ears then he would've walked right past but that was one of the subject classes you attend and peeped in.

It was horrid.

He saw a bunch of hooligans messing up your notebooks and scraping it against the ground with their shoes. He recognized some of them as they squat at your level and taunt you.

It was some people in his fan club or whatever and he heard bits of how someone this puny couldn't be his sibling. You were clutching onto a bag and it wasn't just your bag that you were concerned of, the laptop that his parents gave were in it and the bag slides clean off and you were only protecting the laptop with your life. You didn't mind your keychains being ripped off and tossed about but amongst the stomping, the laptop was clutched tightly in your arms.

"Hey!"

His shout boomed across the room, shocking even you. You looked up to see your brother and he looked about ready to rip into the bullies with his bare hands. The group turned pale when they saw that their idol had caught them in the act of tormenting his little sibling and bit their tongue as their knees wobble.

The details of the lecture/threat of Toji wasn't heard as your ears buzz with fear. His touch made you snap back to reality, his rough hands helping you up gently and you wobble in your place.

"Holy shit.." You exclaimed in a huff to which he looked at you in an instant.

"You're really fucking loud when you're mad."

Silence settled to which the both of you laughed at in few seconds. This was the first time you didn't feel akward and commented so honestly. He patted your back and pick up your stuff, though soiled; atleast you were only shaken but unharmed.

The walk back to the car came naturally albeit a bit of limping in your step, you had twisted your ankle while running to catch the laptop before the others did and it sparked hellfire in Toji. His main priority now is atleast offering a crumb of comfort and heard out your reasoning for portecting a device rather than your skull.

"We could always buy you a new laptop,"

"I like the one now."

"Its not worth it breaking your skull in to protect it though."

To be honest, it wasn't about liking it. Just the big smiles on your adoptive parents' faces when they urged you to open the gift they bought you, it made your eyes all teary.

You weren't adopted before but you had to go through mean foster parents that had too much on their hands and that led to negliance to your needs. That led to several arguments and got you sent to the adoption center and it broke you, just the thought of connecting with another family made you numb.

But this family was so gentle with you. Even when you showed that there was no need for such kindness yet it wasn't that they coaxed you out of your shell but that they were so tender through their actions.

Toji notices the tears and scratches the back of his neck, he didn't read this in the big brother dummy book to know what to do if his little sibling cries. You had a distant look in your eyes before you realised you had reached the car with him.

Thankfully, both parents didn't notice the missing schoolbag or the agitated state that you're in. They were all smiles and Mamaguro was powdering on her face so it meant a family outing tonight.

You couldn't help but panic when you try to think of an explanation of your missing bag but Toji butted in on his parents conversations.

"Hey, Y/N wanted some ice cream before dinner, is that okay?"

Toji blurted out all of a sudden and you so badly wanted to deny it but he dug a deeper hole for you when the two agreed so quickly. They were excited that you finally requested something in a while and the car swerved to the nearest convenience store. Your brother adjusted himself in his seat, taking out his earphones and leaned a bit closer so the two infront won't hear.

"No worries, there's a store that sells bags beside the convenience store."

You huffed out a breath, your mouth feeling so dry and nodded to his words. He was a life saver.

Toji remembered how jittery you were when he suddenly made up some shit about you wanting ice cream that he couldn't help but chuckle outloud. The light from your eyes almost dimmed when you thought he would snitch on you. He parked close to the clinic, turning his back to grab an umbrella incase it rained. His mom pouted to his sudden chuckle and sighed.

"What are you laughing for? You're not ditching practise, yknow? You're going after you send me off at the clinic."

"Huh?" His mom showed a text conversation between her and Geto and scoffed. The lengths that man bun would go to have him show up at practise. That damn milf hunter-

-----------

"Hands up if your name is Y/N Fushiguro!!!" The class erupted in some noise upon seeing the popular duo stand near the doors of their class. When you heard your name being called, you reluctantly raised your hand; recognising who these two were.

The duo's faces fell for a moment, choking. Oh, you were adopted? Not in an offensive way obviously but Gojo might've heaved a sigh of relief. Atleast you weren't a splitting reflection of your brother, that would give him nightmares! Geto on the other hand realised why Toji would hide such a fact, an element of suprise if you will. He thought the two of them wouldn't find you out in an instant, did Toji thought so low of them? You raised a brow, wondering what they wanted.

They watched you walk out the classroom and Gojo adjusted his glasses. The graphic t-shirt and the style you had was a sublte influence from your brother.

"Well, well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

You had the exact relaxed expression like your brother except you slowly turn weirded out, why were they ogling you like this?

You took time to observe them head to toe subtly while Gojo yapped about the tale of how Toji didn't reveal that he had a younger sibling, they were lean and muscular and they had this obvious good cop bad cop duo energy. The white haired man sounded visibly upset that you were kept as a secret from the rest, was this some kind of facade to get to know you better? You shifted to one foot to another, stopping the music playing in your earpods and cleared your throat.

"Do you want to get with my brother or something orrr...?" Gojo didn't get to the point so you went straight in but due to their reactions, you might've miscalculated. Tilting your head, you pointed at Geto's painted nails and the earrings he had.

"And you.. are you two like gay or something?" You put your hands in defense, talking quickly before they get the wrong idea, "Hey, I don't discriminate. I just barely had any fans of my brother be male sooo..."

For once in their lives, Gojo was speechless and Geto had his eyes wide open like crazy.

One thing was for sure, anyting that was the apart of the Fushiguro family was a complete nightmare.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

a drabble of any ineffable husbands fluff if you're up to it (if you need more to go on it can be in Aziraphale's bookshop)

I've been drawing stuff with them in their cottage in the South Downs, so I'm gonna go with that.

On with the fic!

--

Crowley liked the little slice of the world they now lived in, and that included the little town nearby, where he'd go about causing minor problems for old time's sake, and getting the shopping down. He had left Aziraphale alone for a few hours, which was perfectly fine, the two of them loved being around one another but also liked their space.

The demon came to a stop in front of their cottage, parking the Bentley. He stepped out with the shopping bags, looking over his car real quick. She was in need of a wash, the country roads kicked up a lot of dust.

Yes, Crowley could just miracle it away, like he did in the city, but he enjoyed cleaning, especially when it wasn't him stress cleaning. He made a note to come out later in the day to get the Bentley cleaned up, but after he spent some time with his husband.

He stopped in front of the door, about to put his key in the lock, when he tasted something in the air. It was sweet, strong, and warm.

Ah, Aziraphale was baking.

Crowley really hoped that he was using the actual packets of yeast he had in the kitchen and not... whatever grew on some of his books. Again.

Open the door, Crowley could smell and taste the aromas of baked goods, and felt how warm the cottage was. "Angel?" He called out as he walked towards the kitchen, finding the place a bit of a mess with bowls and dishes, utensils and baking items scattered all over their counters and island. "Got a wild hair up your arse and decided to break out the flour, angel?" He commented as he set the bags on the island.

"Oh!" Aziraphale looked away from where he had been bent over, staring into the little window of the oven. "Ah, yes, sorry! I had nearly forgotten I promised the ladies at the local book club that I'd bake for the farmer's market tomorrow. They're doing a charity thing and wanted me to contribute with some of my tasty cakes and such!"

Crowley glanced about after pushing his glasses up to rest on his head. "Yeah, I can see that. I think you made enough for everyone in all the towns and villages around here."

"Oh, hush." Aziraphale huffed and opened the oven, pulling out a pan that contained what looked to be muffins. Crowley could taste bananas in the air, ah, banana nut. He might snatch one of those up.

"Made anything for us to enjoy for tea?" Crowley asked as he put things away with a wave of his hand, too lazy to bother with the task himself.

The angel perked up. "Yes! I made a delightful loaf of honeyed bread for us to try with those delightful jams you experimented with the other day! I'm really looking forward to the pear one."

Crowley made a face. "You can have that whole mess, I'll stick to the strawberry and raspberry ones. But still, sounds good, want me to get things ready while you deal with your mess?"

Aziraphale nodded and the two got about to work, the sound of music from another room, sounded like one of Aziraphale's records, was playing. Crowley glanced over at his husband, who was moving about, grabbing used dishes to put in the sink to be washed after lunch, with a smile on his face.

Sometimes it caught him off-guard to find himself in this situation, where he didn't fear Heaven and Hell finding them together, where they were living together in retirement. And married, to boot.

"What's got you smiling like that, dear?" Aziraphale asked, catching Crowley's attention.

"Ah? Well, just... thinkin', 's all." He turned back to starting the electric kettle.

The angel moved closer, pressing close. "Thinking about what?"

"Don't make me say it, angel..." He groaned. "I've got a reputation."

"I'm sure you do." Aziraphale said, the bastard.

Crowley huffed. "I was just thinkin' about how lucky I am that I can do stuff like this with you, it's... it's nice."

This put a huge smile on the other man's face. "It is, isn't it? Now, get the kettle started, dear boy, so we can have some nibbles!" He then kissed Crowley on the cheek and went back to the sink.

[hanibalistic]

#5B52AD | NA JAEMIN. NCT DREAM.

genre | fluff, friendship

word count | 2835

warning | a fever, mention of pain

note | i got kind of sick after my first dose of vaccine and i think about is my mother used to sit and rub my tummy whenever i get tummy ache even when it’s 3am.

your body felt heavy, you could not walk without an awkward arch of your back and at an annoyingly slow pace. you haven't gotten a migraine in so long that the gentle ringing in the back of your head now felt like a gradual decomposing of your brain. your tummy gurgled obnoxiously from time to time, confusing your body and mind with hunger and pain.

long story short, you were sick. you got sick, unfortunately, after a streak of good health for the past years, and you barely knew how to take care of yourself now because of how unusual the occurrence was.

you suspected it was the pouring rain you walked under the other day, or the multiple cold nights you've stood through in the unorganized tent area backstage during award shows this past few weeks. either way, since there weren't any other possible reasons, bad weather was the only thing you could blame your sickness on.

you had contacted the team manager about taking a few days off, leisurely estimating your return date while the manager told you to take your time and make sure to only work once you have fully recovered to avoid spreading your sudden fever to the dreamies when you get back. another thing you also asked of, with more grit and firmness this time, was to make sure the manager leak not a single word of you being sick to the boys.

it was true that you have not been sick in a long while, but so far you have gotten a grip on how it works and adapted to being uncomfortable and alone. reminding yourself to take those over-the-counter medicines was annoying but doable. moving around the apartment so you could cook and clean was exhausting but also doable. you did not need an extra pair of hands; it would definitely be good to have one, but you could survive without one.

you knew very well if the boys knew that you caught a fever, they would insist on visiting and taking care of you.

they would probably try to pull up to your apartment with some homemade soup and old movie discs, rambling on and on about sneaking out and forcing the driver to come to your apartment estate, complaining about you keeping everything a secret from your friends. then they'd get unreasonably mad at you for not visiting a doctor, and they'd force you to stay in bed while promising to take care of everything. they would be loud, and destructive, and annoying and—ugh! everything you do not need when you have a fever burning on your head!

"oh, finally!" you groaned in tired delight when you heard the doorbell ring. you have been waiting on the jajangmyeon takeout you ordered about fifteen damn minutes ago (to be fair, it felt like two hours with that migraine in your head).

shaking the shiver off your back when you stood on the cold wooden tiles with your bare feet, you grimaced at the pair of fuzzy socks you previously pulled off out of spontaneity, not wanting to bend down to get them from the ground. you stepped on then as you moved begrudgingly from the messy couch, where your blanket and tons of pillows resided, to the front door.

you unlocked your door with some trouble, finding it hard to stand on your legs and twist the lock. when you slowly swung open the door, you muttered, "sorry for the delay, it's kind of hard to–huh."

you cut yourself off when you saw the sight of renjun handing cash to your delivery man and patting him on the back as he bowed and left your house with your jajangmyeon. your eyes pulled back to look at the bigger picture—four people present before your apartment door, all wearing the same reaction to your figure uncared for.

renjun has turned his attention back from your delivery man and his grimace deepened when he saw your red face. donghyuck pulled a face at you when he saw your terrible posture and dead expression, and he tightened his grip on the small bag in his hand. jeno was frowning in disapproval with one brow raised as if you were spreading the bacteria to him but he was too polite to cover himself up. jaemin looked like he didn't want to be here, like always, but for a moment you saw his eyes flicker with soft concern over your visibly sick posture.

you sneered. that bastard! the manager snitched on you and here came the power rangers of the 2000s judging you at your front door! you would not take this absurdity!

"goodbye," you muttered blandly before you went ahead to close the door on their faces, but a hand swiftly reached out and blocked the door frame from meeting its end.

jeno smiled casually at you from the side, his arm muscle flexing as he, with no effort against your sickened strength, pushed the door open. you attempted to struggle against him, but obviously you were of no match for him, riddled with a fever or not.

"lee jeno," you warned.

"[full name]," he returned.

you clicked your tongue. you were too dizzy to get angry, but the rumbling inside your chest sounded anyway so you wouldn't be so overwhelmed by the boys' relentless care that you forget you didn't like this nor want this, that this wasn't ideal for you.

"please leave," you asked. "i don't need help."

"no. we're coming in whether you like it or not, [name], so give it up," donghyuck mentioned as he gently brushed past you into the apartment. "and before you ask–no, we are not leaving. we got our phones, and we brought movies. we also have to take care of you, so we got plenty to do here. we won't get bored."

you rolled your eyes as the rest of the boys followed behind. kicking their shoes off and placing them neatly to the side, they slowly began acting as if they were back in their humble abode.

donghyuck headed over to the coffee table before your couch. he grimaced at the sight of falling blankets and unorganized pillows as he placed the bag on the surface, then he turned to renjun, "renjun, where do we put the soup?"

"not on the coffee table, take it to the kitchen!" renjun exclaimed as he pointed aimlessly at a spot.

donghyuck listened. as he made his way to your open kitchen, he began rambling off. "you know, i can't believe you didn't tell us you were sick. i knew something was up when you were absent for more than a day!"

renjun nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms, looking to you with a semi-displeased expression. "he is right. we are all friends here, you should tell us if you need some help."

just having them around your apartment was enough to make you want to jump out the window. it was nothing personal against the boys, though. you would have felt the same with just about anybody who dared enter your territory when you felt uncomfortable. but the way they never stop talking—ugh, it made you want to end it altogether so you didn't have to listen to their voices overlap each other in such annoying frequency.

"if i needed help, i would have asked," you dragged out through gritted teeth.

donghyuck snickered from the sink, rolling his sleeves up and getting ready to do the unclean dishes. "oh yeah, that's why you have no clean bowl and spoon to use!"

"also, why are all your stuff here on the couch, [name]?" jeno complained as he picked up your heavy blankets in his arms. he popped his head out from the side and eyed you. "i'll take them back to your room, you should stay in bed!"

jaemin leisurely approached the coffee table, his face was bland with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. despite acting like he didn't want to be here, his curiosity to know whether you were doing well alone was killing him inside; you weren't, it appeared. he gazed around your apartment with feign disinterest before an opened box caught his eyes.

bending down to pick up the medicine, he furrowed his brows and turned to you. "these aren't doctor prescribed medicine."

ignoring the drowsiness in your eyes, you looked at the displeasure on jaemin's face before you sighed, "i didn't see a doctor."

"you what?" jaemin exclaimed in disbelief while the rest of the boys gasped in what sounded to be disapproval.

there it went. there came the wave of complaints and disagreement piling out of their mouths like rainwater flooding into the ditch. the migraine in your head magnified the more frustration built up inside you, trying to force you to explode on the boys who only meant well.

"yes, i didn't visit a doctor. stop making a big deal out of it," you retorted, straining your voice to make yourself heard. "do you know how expensive an appointment at the clinic is?"

"still! it's always better to visit a doctor!" renjun pointed out softly.

the others agreed with him like dominos, opinions falling on top of each other in the form of noises. you closed your eyes in hopes to cancel their presence, but they've been talking nonstop it felt impossible to ignore them.

their voices were adding to your nausea, too many words to understand and to process that you felt useless not being able to retain their words as quickly as usual. it made you want to vomit, it made your chest tighten, it made your tummy hurt.

"god... please... shut up," you muttered under your breath as you glared at the floor. "shut up... stop talking... stop talking!"

the heat burst.

"[name]..." jaemin began cautiously, dropping the empty box of pills on the table as he eyed you sturdily.

you grimaced; your lips quirking down in guilt and your eyes darting elsewhere but their faces. seeing their innocent, good-intentioned, widened eyes would just make you feel like a bad person more than anything. shaking your head, you waved your hand at them dismissively and proceeded to turn away.

"thank you for coming, but please leave because i don't need your help," you said, "i'm gonna go to bed. lock the door when you leave."

the boys watched you move back to your room slowly, still surprised at your sudden outburst. they half-expected something like this to happen, but not exactly the way it turned out. they did come here fully prepared to be kicked out kindly knowing well your inability to accept aid from others, but the event has taken a turn for even worse, it seemed. they had not expected you to yell at them.

donghyuck turned away from the sink, his confused gaze darting between the door to your bedroom and the rest of his friends. "we're not actually leaving, right?"

"no, but we will leave them alone," jeno mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "for now, at least."

jaemin's eyes trailed after your steps and they have yet to tear themselves away from your bedroom door.

he knew you well, better than the rest of his friends if he could say so. even though you might have meant what you said, you wouldn't do anything if they refuse to listen. and the consequences of adhering to your request and leaving you alone when you just did something you didn't want to would outweigh those of them not listening to you.

you don't need help, you never ask for them, whatever reason that was. but you do want them when they were presented to you. he knew that much, at least.

"jaemin, where are you going?" jeno asked when he saw his friend shuffling across the small living room.

nobody talked when jaemin moved to your room and knocked on your door. he pushed it open without waiting for your permission, and the stifled cries stayed beneath the walls unknown to the outsiders. he softened at the sight of you helplessly rubbing your tears with your forearm, wanting nothing more than to coddle you, but he leaned against the door instead.

"feeling bad now, are we?" jaemin said to catch your attention.

your head hurt, the pain was piercing. but nothing shattered you more than realizing you were a bad person for refusing help from good people who cared about you, realizing the mortifying cycle of loneliness you cannot thrust yourself out of because you could not accept any form of good social interaction. you were never one to cry from those whimsical things, you were used to it, but the thought of your friends shuffling out of your apartment and leaving the area dead cold made you cry.

you still have them now, but for how long, really? how many more "leave me alone" and "i don't want your help" would they take until they truly leave you alone for good?

you sobbed out breathlessly, your words continuously getting cut off against your will. eventually, you made out a sentence.

"jae-jaemin, my head hurts."

like a sharp shot through his heart, jaemin wavered and crumbled. he wasn't sure if this kind of melting was good, but he was taking the ache along with him. he approached you swiftly and sat down on the edge of your bed, a spoiled gaze dawning within his eyes while he moved his hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and messaging your scalp.

"try going to sleep, it'll help," he coaxed.

the more you cried, the more he sunk himself onto your bed. he kept his head high up against the headboard of your bed, and he let you snuggle close against his side for comfort. your head hastily leaned against his chest, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to focus on the rhythm of which he scratched your head dotingly.

"shhh, it's okay," he hushed, reaching his free arm over you to pat your back. "it's going to be okay."

jaemin was always so kind. everyone was always so kind. with their homemade soup, their refusal to abandon you at a tough spot, their snark remarks against your constant attacks, their nagging and coaxing—they were your friends.

you never knew why it took so much effort to get it into your head that they were going to be here whether you wanted them to or not. when you pushed them away, they would push back ten times harder, however many times they needed to. they knew you hated blatant affection so they never show it, nor do they make you show it, but it was here. flowing between their heads was love, discreet love, love that sat in patience, understanding, and stubbornness.

you pack a mean punch, but they could take it.

"jaemin... how are they doing?"

jaemin looked up from your sleeping face to find donghyuck at the door. his hands were wet from messing around in the kitchen, and he wiped them clean on his pants as he quietly approached the bed to take a peek at you. he raised his brow when he saw your face smushed against jaemin's chest and hidden under your arm, then he signed.

sleeping, huh. good. he heard you cry from outside a while ago, everyone did. nobody said anything about it and the living rooms were hushed quieter until your sobs gradually calmed down.

"are you going to stay here?" donghyuck asked after he pulled away. "you might get sick."

"yeah," jaemin nodded down at you, "i might."

donghyuck pursed his lips together, then he shrugged. "alright, i'll leave you then. do you want me to turn the lights off?"

"no, i don't want to fall asleep," jaemin said, stroking your head gently. then he nudged his chin toward donghyuck. "i do want my phone though."

donghyuck scoffed when he was by the door. he was only gonna turn the lights off because it would help you, so if that wasn't needed...

"interesting," he said. "i'm not your errand boy, though. you can stay bored."

jaemin held back a hiss when donghyuck ran out to the living room. he grimaced after the opened door, eyes wide in annoyance that donghyuck left the lights on and the door open, that irresponsible bastard! and he wouldn't even run to get a phone, which would only take a couple of steps!

turning his attention, he glanced down at you instead and breathed out a sigh. he wasn't going to be on his phone for long anyway, he just wanted to tell jisung and chenle you were doing okay. other than that, he has the plan to stare at you until you wake up—your scrunchy nose and closed puffy eyes were abnormally adorable, he has to admit.

"yeah, i'll get him," jaemin whispered playfully down at you. "we'll get him when you wake up."

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Sweet Victory (Good Omens Fic)

On April 21, 2021 - Aethelflaed and Elf-on-the-Shelf met in frantic Discord Sprint Competition. The goal: be the first in the DIWS Discord server to reach Level 1000. The reward: the coveted title of Spront Lord. In our final sprint, we chose the shared prompt of "Sweet Victory." My results follow...and can also be found on AO3

--

“Ready?” Aziraphale said, resting primly against the kitchen wall.

Crowley, meanwhile, crouched, braced himself to charge forward.

“Go!” the demon shouted.

They dashed to the kitchen counter, where two sets of equipment and ingredients sat waiting, and began sorting through them as fast as possible.

Crowley had seen his angel cook before. Aziraphale took great delight in following every recipe to the letter, selecting only the finest ingredients, measuring each precisely, scraping a knife across the top of each cup to ensure not a single extra grain of sugar was added.

Crowley’s own methods were more…Crowley-esque.

He tore open each bag and container, scooping out the flour and dumping it into the bowl. Half of it wound up around the bowl, but that’s why he used big scoops. Sugar by the fistful, salt one pinch at a time. Butter. Milk. Cocoa powder. Everything that he needed to create the perfect cake.

The electric mixer screamed along at its top speed, brown dust flying in every direction, batter spattering up his shirt and across the wall. Four different eggs smashed on the floor, and he swept them aside with his foot.

The oven was pre-set to the correct temperature, but there would barely be room for two pans. The one who completed his mix first would get the coveted spot in the middle of the oven; the other would have to make do with another rack.

Crowley dumped the batter into the cake pan and slid it into place, slamming the oven shut while Aziraphale was still carefully counting the strokes of his spoon.

“Ha!” he crowed, leaning against the oven, then quickly danced away. “Ow, ow, ow, door hot.”

“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale said placidly. His pacing hadn’t altered, steady as a metronome.

He carefully measured and poured his batter into two small pans and placed his cakes in on the lower shelf, setting an egg timer down in his counter space.

Crowley, on the other hand, knelt and watched through the window, a trick he’d learned from Bake Off. The cake cooked quickly, puffing up just a little. When it looked done-ish, he snatched it out.

They had made the icing the previous night, though failed to agree that Crowley had definitely won that one. He snatched it out of the refrigerator now, and started slathering it atop the cake, thick as he could. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at his timer, but continued waiting with patience that was rarely reserved for non-food-related activities.

The timer dinged, and Aziraphale pulled his cake pans out of the oven as Crowley put the finishing touches on his own: showering it with three different kinds of sprinkles. He folded his arms and gave the angel his smuggest grin.

Aziraphale’s cake cooled, and Crowley’s began to drip.

First the icing…melted off the cake, turning back into a runny glaze. He attacked it with spoon and knife, trying to pile it all on top where it belonged, but it was no good—now the cake began to crumble, sections breaking off, collapsing inward.

By the time Aziraphale finished his, glancing at the clock with a little bastard smile, Crowley’s had been reduced to a pile of chocolate crumbs mashed up in icing.

“You have another minute,” Aziraphale said. “if you think you have a plan.”

“I always have a plan.” Crowley scraped his cake into a clean bowl, mashed and stirred frantically with a fork, and looked up just as the clock struck noon. “S’pudding,” he explained with a grin.

“I…suppose…” Aziraphale looked skeptically at the mess. “I suppose I should taste yours first.”

“Yeah. Because I won. Sweet victory!”

“We were racing for the oven, yes, but we agreed victory would go to the best dessert, not the fastest.”

“Same difference.”

Aziraphale frowned, dipping first a fork and then—when that didn’t seem to work—a spoon into Crowley’s pudding. He lifted the bite, sniffed it, and popped it in his mouth.

Then promptly spat it into the sink.

“Darling,” he said with immense patience. “Did you mix up the sugar and the salt again?”

“No!” Crowley looked at the counter where he’d worked, white powder covering every surface. “Possibly.” He scraped his finger through the pudding and licked it with a forked tongue, then gagged. “Yes.”

Aziraphale smiled, cutting off a small section of two-layer cake, buttercream evenly spread with a whimsical pattern drawn in dark red piping. He lifted the forkful to his mouth and took a delicate bite. “Perfection” he said, licking his lips. “Absolutely delectable.”

“How do I know?” Crowley scowled, reaching grab a handful, though Aziraphale batted his arm away. “It isn’t fair if I can’t at least taste it.”

“Of course.” Aziraphale cut off another forkful and offered the bite. Crowley leaned forward to take it, but the angel pulled it back and popped it in his own mouth.

“Oi! How am I—”

Aziraphale pulled his husband into a kiss, a warm, chocolate-flavored kiss.

Defeat had never tasted so sweet.

--

Thank you for reading! Yes, this WAS all written in a single 20 minute sprint...except for the last few sentences, because I ran out of time...and also all the edits.

Regardless, the results of Elf's and my competition was: we both passed Level 1000 after this sprint! But Elf had enough bonus points to get up to Level 1001. So we both got the title of Spront Lord, but she technically did slightly better.

SLIGHTLY.

[fractalkiss]

i'm too embarrassed to post another snippet of post-canon jwds wip anywhere else and for good reason

Women's and Juvenile Affairs sent Han Juwon to Gyeonggi to investigate a shopping complex housing out gambling parties and escorts. It gave him reason to stick around in Manyang on some days for more than an hour or two.

Dongsik doesn't think Juwon needs to; after dinners at Jaeyi's, after leaving flowers for Yuyeon and Chief Nam. They weren't ever really friends, not to Juwon. They're certainly not partners anymore, not navigating around the other like boats around killer whales. There's no threat in the waters now. In a way, that's worse. Dongsik has a few months of probation left—not that it matters. Spend two decades waiting, and suddenly time doesn't seem like such a bastard. You laugh at it.

Apparently he laughs out loud because Juwon freezes, his hand in the middle of undoing Dongsik's belt buckle. He doesn't stop, though he stills a little when Dongsik pushes his fingers through his hair again. His fingers tightens into the base of Juwon's head as Juwon sucks him off—just enough for Dongsik to jerk away, pull out and come over himself while Juwon watches and moves forward to lick at the head. Took him a few times to be less conscious about it, and that's if Dongsik didn't speak. He lets Juwon mouth at his cock; getting used to it, getting at the drops of come while Dongsik keeps his tongue between his teeth between deep breaths; hushed and silent.

Juwon comes back up to the worn sofa, knees knocking into the faded pillows that Dongsik has long made a bed out of for himself. The first time, he thought Juwon would take it up as a challenge, fitting himself on a sofa slash bed just big enough for one grown person; Juwon's taller, built nicely, built stronger. But he wouldn't. Dongsik should have known, with Juwon being brought up the way he was; Dongsik had to tell him to stop standing there, come here Juwon-ah, you can keep your clothes off if you want, Juwon-ah. The gentler his tone, the tighter Juwon's jaw got until Dongsik kissed him, dragged his mouth down Juwon's neck until he was shivering. That'd been around the start of the winter. October could be tough but winters were always hell.

Dongsik turns his head sidewards when he feels the outline of Juwon's dick against his thigh, hard.

"Dongsik-ssi," Juwon starts, his voice hoarse, throat tensed the whole time and his mouth—

"Yes, Inspector?" Dongsik replies, and it should be funny. Juwon curls in on himself half over Dongsik on the sofa, trying to hide his embarrassment, pride, maybe just shame. They're not friends; Dongsik taunted him before, asked him to call him 'hyung' and Juwon looked like he'd rather wolf down a whole bowl of geumsubokguk, puffer fish bones picked clean and all.

"Can I?" Juwon asks anyway.

He buries his head into Dongsik's neck while he rubs himself against Dongsik, pre-come catching on Dongsik's palm when he reaches down to get his hand on Juwon to do something, anything. Juwon is so warm; so so warm, strong line of his body moving against Dongsik's, face turned now into Dongsik's bicep as he moans, cock stiffening in Dongsik's hand. There's no threat but some things are so much worse after Dongsik learns a thing or two.

"Fuck. Come on, do this properly," Dongsik finally says. He's actually half-hard again. He tries to squirm out from under Juwon immediately.

"What?" Juwon lifts his head, questioning.

But he doesn't complain when Dongsik sinks down to his knees on the floor in front of him.

[theliterarywolf]

Character huh? Seeing as we know the least about him, Saraj.

***

Wait.

What happened last night?

Suraj opened his eyes to a bleary view of a pearly blue ceiling. A sniff of the air told him told him he was in Aquacia though, admittedly, the potent scent of saltwater colliding with pristine freshwater was overtaken the slightest bit by the scent of sex in the room he was in.

“Wha – Ah, shit...” He sat up with a hand to his head, right between his horns and careful of his claws. Already with the hangover? “What did I do last night?”

From his left, the curvy body of a white-haired lamia girl slithered up close. “Mm..? What'sss wrong, baby?”

Suraj yawned, trying to reacquaint his addled mind with the fangs in his mouth, “Nothing, I--”

“Is everything alright?” That came from the mink-beastfolk girl on his right: her sleek black fur catching the room's limited light.

Suraj gave a slow nod, “Yeah, I'm --”

From behind the rakshasa, a dullahan held her head over his shoulder. “Did you need a little 'hair of the dog'?”

“No, no,” Suraj shook his head, “I just --”

From underneath the covers, right between Suraj's legs, a twink of an orc peeked out and grinned, “You wanna go one more time? For the road?”

Suraj only groaned again: memories of the previous night meshing with the post-orgy regret and the morning-after hangover.

Suraj, cleaned and showered, stumbled out of the hotel room. As fine as he looked, with everything cleaned, brushed, and swept, he was still being done up the ass sans lube from his hangover.

“Bye~!” The lamia, beastfolk girl, dullahan, and orc coquettishly waved him off as he spread those bat-like wings and started on his way.

Fuck, but the sounds of Aquacia's many waterways didn't do anything for his pounding head or his sour mouth. He huffed and kept flapping. “Wait, wait, wait!” He dragged to a stop in mid-air and fished around his pockets for something. “Come on... Come on!” It was a miracle he had made it this far without an incident. His entire body relaxed upon feeling them. In quick, practice motions he placed one in each ear and immediately felt at ease when all noise was snuffed out. “Okay.” He nodded, waiting for a large amphithere to sweep through the skies so he could catch the jet-stream it produced. Whatever he could do to make his trip to the ShimmerGale/Ignis Fanis boundary-line, the better it would be for him.

There were certain... aspects to life in Dama Fristad that nonhumans knew about and embraced in silence while humans ignored and feigned their nonexistence. These aspects were typically in harder to reach venues of the six districts. If one really wanted to enjoy their wares, then they knew the ordeals they were putting themselves through.

The ShimmerGale/Ignis Fanis boundary-line was such an ordeal. Suraj slowed his flight to a hover when he got close. Vines. Thick, corded, writhing. Some covered in thorns sharper than knives; others dotted in blooms that puffed out clouds of silvery pollen that, upon making contact with a beetle that had wandered too close, began to dissolve the creature's flesh instantly.

If it weren't for this hangover, Suraj would have just said 'fuck it' and headed back to 1685 Blightblossom Lane. As it was, the rakshasa counted under his breath, “Forty-seven. Forty-six.”

The vines wound themselves tighter.

“Twenty-five. Twenty-four.”

With a tilt of the head, one could make out the remains of some poor bastard who had wandered too close.

“Nine. Eight.”

Suraj feinted backwards from the giant blossom that surged out from the walls of vines: pollen and sap dripping from its fanged petals. Suraj took a deep breath. “Two... One.”

The blossom reared back and screeched into the air. Suraj was doubly thankful for the buds in his ears that were blocking all noise, both pleasant and harsh. Once the din subsided, the blossom opened itself up so wide that Suraj was able to see what lay upon the other side. He streaked forward, making it through in one swift go before the blossom could recollect itself and the vines could tighten back up.

Suraj heaved and panted. “I hate that wall.” He shook his head and kept flying. Not much further now. He could see it from where he was: aged walls of brick with layers of uneven paint, orange-tinted windows, and a simple shade covering the door.

Inside of this small restaurant, an old Yaksha was wiping down the counter: the demon's green skin sweaty from a rough morning of chasing inventory. He smoothed down the curls of his golden beard, waggling his claw in a goofy way as he walked past the window. He had almost past it completely when he noticed Suraj outside.

He blinked.

And then doubled-back to the counter where a radio was playing. He promptly cut it off.

Suraj let out a sigh of relief and removed the buds from his ears before walking in: the tile warm against his talons.

“Suraj!” The yaksha's claws clicked over the tiles as he walked around the corner to meet the young rakshasa in a bruising hug.

“Lohith.” Suraj winced from the loud noise and the fact that his hangover hadn't gone anywhere, “Kaise ho?”

“Eh.” Lohith hopped back behind the counter, “Business is slow so early in the mornings. It's usually when I go to the Halls of Judgments and Repence for the auctions, but I'm still full up from last week.”

Suraj sat on a stool, striped tail swishing lazily. “Things'll pick up, I'm sure. Like right now – Ah!” He held his head and grit his interlocking fangs together. Lohith hummed,

“Ah, I know that sound. You young people and your partying... Well, Lohith's Khed Rogan Josh will knock it right out of you!”

That's what Suraj was hoping to hear. He was still wincing from the headache but, when he looked up from his claws, he saw a rosy cup of Lassi in front of him. Suraj picked up the frosty glass and knocked some back: the taste of banana, yogurt, various spices, and blood washing over his forked tongue. He set the glass down in favor of looking at his phone.

Did he hear the horrific screams from the kitchen? The wet thud of a butcher's knife into flesh? Smell the sizzling fat melding with curry and ginger and other melodic spices? Of course.

“They're already calling me into work?” Suraj groaned, “Come on...”

Was he really in the mood for a bunch of old harpies who didn't understand what an area-code was?

“Ah..! Here we are!” Lohith came out of the kitchen carrying a tray laden with steaming rice, fresh naan bread, and a hearty bowl of fiery spice in the form of braised chunks of meat and a thick stew made from kashmiri, garlic, and ginger.

Suraj waited for the tray to be set in front of him. “You are a lifesaver, Lohith.”

“Eh.” Lohith shrugged, “Lifesaver, lifetaker; it all comes round to each other. Go on: eat!”

The rakshasa rolled his eyes but he picked up a spoon to ladle some of the Khed Rogan Josh onto the plate of rice. He got a hearty spoonful and pressed it past his lips. Oh. Oh, there it was. What was it about the flesh of humans that allowed for their final, greatest emotions to sweeten or spice them to that unlatched perfection?

Khed Rogan Josh... Regret Rogan Josh. Suraj tore a piece of naan and nibbled at it in-between bites of his main meal. Thankfully enough, though, with every bite that he took, he felt his pounding head and his sour mouth recede further and further into the abyss.

Suraj glanced into the kitchen. Lohith had stolen away to wash his claws: thin streaks of fading red leeching into the bowl of the sink.

Suraj shrugged and kept eating.

He did have to think, though... What came first in the grand dance? Nonhumans eating humans for pleasure and health? Or nonhumans eating humans in retaliation?

And, yet, for every hunter or anti-nonhumanite who would look at Suraj there, eating the braised flesh of a human, and call for the death of all nonhumans... Surely there was a witch who yearned for humanity's decline after the Witch's Winter? Or a dragon who bore the scars of the Great Dragon Exodus?

Suraj shook his head and returned to his food. He was just one creature in this wide, chaotic world. Why was he thinking on heavy topics like that? Nay, he should be thinking about what made him drink so much last night. Not to mention what made him so ready and willing to jump into bed with a horny quartet.

“Damn it,” He sighed, “I don't even remember who came first.” Suraj took another bite. The assortment of spices in both his food and the lassi reminded him of home, th –

Oh.

Right.

He didn't have a home anymore.

Suraj closed his eyes, chewing around his latest mouthfullllllllllllll of fire! Everything was burning! He saw everything on fire, but he couldn't stop. Even with all of the shouts around him, he just! Couldn't! Stop!

Suraj stole a breath and came back to the present.

He looked around himself. Restaurant. ShimmerGale/Ignis Fanis divide. The Khed Rogan Josh. Suraj pinched the bridge of his nose, slowing his chewing to a crawl.

If it weren't for his shift later, he would go back to whatever bar had managed to dull his memories and senses last night.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 5.5 OR Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Life won’t give you a break.   The moment midterms are complete, you have to begin preparing for finals. While the urge to bury yourself underneath your covers and pull the blanket over your head has lessened, you still don’t want to venture out into the world. But there’s no way to resist the inevitable. You can’t let your schooling go down the drain — it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself after all.   5:49 pm. Jungkook: where u at bitch?   5:50 pm. Y/N: im on the toilet asshole 5:50 pm. Y/N: call me a bitch again and ill kill you   5:50 pm. Jungkook: Gross tmi 5:52 pm. Jungkook: can i ask you for a favour tho pls   You wash your hands after wiping, flushing and pulling up your pants.    5:54pm. Jungkook: dont leave me on read   5:55 pm. Y/N: clingy much 5:55 pm. Y/N: the hell do you want from me   5:55 pm. Jungkook: lovely as usual 5:56 pm. Jungkook: I need the notes for comm 209   You scoff as you re-read the message. He has some audacity asking for your notes for a class he skipped on a Friday afternoon, probably to hang out with his friends instead. But before you tell him to gladly ‘fuck off’, you’re stopped by an idea. He needs something from you and there’s something you need from him.   Now’s the perfect opportunity.   “Tempering chocolate?”   “Yeah. You want to be a Master Chocolatier, right? This is a great opportunity to teach someone how to do it. They say you know your stuff when you can teach others.”   Jungkook rolls his eyes at your shamelessness and how you’re trying to milk him to your advantage. “Somehow I think this far outweighs the favour of me getting your notes.”   “Do you want to help me or not?”   “Do I want to?” He looks unsure but gives in to your will anyways, or at least he's curious enough to hear your troubles. “What’s your issue with tempering chocolate?”   “It just doesn’t temper right. There’s no snap or shine to it.”   “Do you measure the temperature with a kitchen thermometer?”   “Well obviously, Jeon. Noooo,” you pull out the syllable, voice dripping of sarcasm. “I dip my hand in to tell. Duh! Are you an idiot? What do you think?!”    At once, Jungkook’s expression washes over, becoming impassive. He spins around on his heel to walk out the door, but you grab onto his sleeve desperately.   “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. Sorry. Help me?”   He shifts around to look at you. You’re busy batting your lashes with those eyes of yours, trying to appeal to him — it disgusts Jungkook instead. It makes him feel sick to his stomach that you’re trying to act cute when you’re obviously a brat in disguise.    Yet somehow he finds himself in the kitchen on a late Tuesday night anyhow, despite having class early in the morning the next day.   “What method do you use?” Jungkook asks with crossed arms as you pull out the right materials, silver bowls, chocolate, thermometers, and a cooking pot.   “Which is easier?”   “They’re all the same,” he deadpans.   Jungkook’s arrogance irritates you but you’re not about to insult him and have him running out of the kitchen, so you restrain yourself and start with the seeding method. You chop the solid chocolate you have into smaller pieces while he watches you in boredom. After a minute, Jungkook pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media so he can mentally stimulate himself and not have his brain cells dying on themselves.   “Only three quarters of it goes into the bowl to be melted,” he says without looking up. If he did, it would occur to him that you’ve already got it prepared and on top of the double boiler too.   “I know.”   “Do you want me to help or not?”   “When I ask for it.”   Jungkook’s eyes flicker up. “Well didn’t you ask for my help?”   “Not now, Jeon.” You sigh. It was quite profound how quickly the bastard could get under your skin for doing so little. “God, you can be so fucking—”   He suddenly puts his hand up to silence you and he sniffs with that big fucking nose of his. “Why do I smell burning?”   Jungkook looks over to your pot on the stove and notices it steaming oddly. You follow his line of sight and take your bowl off, hissing at how hot it is. “Careful,” he scolds and looks over. Jungkook nearly facepalms himself into a coma. “Oh my god, you forgot to add water into the double boiler?!”   “It’s because you were distracting me!” you shout at him and run over to the sink to add it in. The water begins burning as it hits the hot double boiler, sizzling and smoking even more. Jungkook groans. “You’re supposed to help me, not look at your phone! Maybe I would’ve realized if you actually paid any attention!”   “Fine, fine.”   You add an inch of water to the double boiler. It’s an improvement.   But then as it begins to steam properly with the candy thermometer in the chocolate as you agitate it with a spatula, you look down and your blood runs cold. “Oh shit.”   “What?” Jungkook sighs. Frankly, it’s impressive you’ve made it this far into the program. He didn’t know you were such an idiot in the kitchen — you might as well burn the whole place down and he wouldn’t be surprised. “How’d you manage that?”    You rush to grab a paper towel, trying to dab the water that got into the bowl. But Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother. You have to start again. If you get water into the chocolate, it makes it seize and becomes unstable.”   “How do you know that?!”   “Do you even read your textbook?” He is appalled and you pull out the cutting board to chop chocolate all over again, starting from the beginning. Jungkook sighs, spinning around his stool as you repeat the steps and put the chocolate over the heat. “You know what the temperature needs to be, right?”   “A hundred fifteen. I’m not an idiot.”   “I don’t know about that,” he chimes. “You forgot to add water to a double boiler.”   Your arm drops to the side, putting the spatula down. “Okay, fuck you. I haven’t seen you actually give me good advice or anything. I asked for your help, not for you to berate me.”   “What advice do you need?” His brow cocks upwards. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just follow the procedure and you’ve got yourself tempered chocolate!”   “I can’t believe I thought you could ever teach me!” you hiss at him. “You’re a condescending asshole.”   “Excuse me? Guess who’s with you on a Tuesday night?! I’m an angel for helping you!”   “No one asked you to!” you scream back at the top of your lungs.   Jungkook scoffs. Any other time where he wasn’t being attacked, he’d recognize that you were returning to your former self, but he still doesn’t appreciate your brattiness. “Are you kidding m— God! What’s burning now?!” Him and that giant nose of his inhales and a delayed moment later, it hits you too. The both of you whirl around to where the chocolate is burning. “You forgot to stir!”   “It’s not like you reminded me to! You’re a distraction!”   It’s excruciating. Jungkook has a feeling he’s going to be here all night, so he helps you speed up the process. While you clean up the mess, he chops more chocolate. And this time, you both manage to get it in the bowl, stirring, without anything burning whatsoever.   The chocolate goes to a hundred fifteen degrees before you remove it from the heat and add the rest of the chocolate you reserved on the side. The temperature is brought down to eighty six degrees and then you put it back on the boiler to melt it all at ninety degrees.    A strip test is done, a streak of chocolate made on parchment. And for a whole two minutes, you wait for it to set. But it doesn’t.   “What the hell…?”   Jungkook is genuinely perplexed and finally, he gets what you’ve been talking about. “See? It just doesn’t work!”   He shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “It must’ve increased in heat before we added the other chocolate in. Let’s try again.”   The pair of you chop chocolate across from each other, silent in your determination. But when you glance up, you see Jungkook’s brows furrowed, thoughts probably lost. You don’t see him serious often — well you do, but you never paid much attention to him before. Not like now.   The process is repeated. The chocolate is melted to a hundred fifteen degrees and then decreased down to eighty six as you add in the loose chocolate, and then it’s brought back up again….    But then the temperature begins climbing — faster than you and Jungkook can react. “Fuck, fuck.”   The two of you help each other take the bowl off the pot in urgency and then press your burning fingers to your ears before running it under cold water. “It went to a hundred? Do you think it’ll be okay?”   “I don’t know. We have to test it.”   The strip test is done, but the chocolate never sets. It stays wet. Dull.    “Mother fuc—”   “We’ll try again,” Jungkook reassures you with a hand on your shoulder.   It’s painful having to re-doing everything and going way later into the night than you initially intended. You feel like you’re being driven crazy, but you’re glad Jungkook’s here with you — you know you’re not going insane alone.   You look back at your textbook and your notes, making sure you’re doing it right and you hope for the best in the next batch.   “It set….but it’s so streaky.” You look up at Jungkook who’s an inch away. He hums and leans down to get a closer look.   “It’s bloom. The lipids moved through the cracks of the chocolate.”   “You think it’s because the kitchen’s too hot?”   “Yeah, we should try to put it in the fridge to cool.”   One last attempt is made. It takes twenty more minutes and then it’s put in the fridge. But after the chocolate sets, there’s no shine or snap.   Jungkook finds slumped on the floor, spooning chocolate, one of the failed attempts, into your mouth. You’re hugging the silver bowl in your lap like it’s your anchor. “I give up.”    It feels like you’ve gone through a thousand batches. The kitchen is an absolute mess — spatulas and tasting spoons littered on the counter, double bowlers and bowls, wasted chocolate everywhere. There’s a sink-full to wash and that alone makes you want to cry.   You slurp up more chocolate in an attempt to feel better. “Fuck chocolate.” But why does it have to taste so delicious?   “I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” Jungkook admits with a frown. It just doesn’t seem to work with you. “It’s not rocket science. It was fine when I did it.”   “Fuck you. You’re not supposed to boast. You’re supposed to help me.”   “Was the last two and a half hours not helping you?” he questions. “You just have to watch your temperatures and keep practicing.”   “That’s helpful.”   “Hey, I’m trying.”   Jungkook pisses you off. Everything comes so easy for him. As chocolate destroys you, he’s out here wanting to be a chocolatier. But maybe it suits him — chocolate’s an asshole and so is he.   “I’d like to see you try to caramelize sugar as well as I can, or better yet, pipe flowers.”   The boy scoffs, looking down at you and your patheticness. You don’t even realize you have chocolate all over your mouth. “That’s easy.”   “I worked at a cupcake shop for three summers.” You stand up on your feet, facing him head on. “You think you can beat me in piping flowers?”   “I think I can do better than you can temper chocolate.” Jungkook smirks arrogantly, enough to push you off the edge.   “Let’s bet on it then!”   “Fine. How much?”   You have a better idea than money. “Loser has to cover for the winner during the internship in May. Whenever the winner goes on break or makes a mistake.”   He scoffs. It’s a big wager but it sounds delightful when he knows you’re going down. “Deal.”   //   It’s a busy Thursday, but that doesn’t stop any of you. Even after a long day of classes, sitting in lecture halls listening to theory to working in the kitchens, you find yourselves a spare kitchen space afterwards to finally put this all to rest.   You won’t tell Jungkook that you practiced all of yesterday by yourself and actually got it to work once — you nearly started to cry out of happiness when the chocolate tempered.   “You want me to make this?”   Jungkook looks at the picture on your phone. “Yep. I made it last summer using buttercream. They’re peonies. Why? Think it’s too hard?”   He scoffs. “As if. Watch, I’ll make it better than you did.”   “Uh-huh. Keep talking, Jeon.”   Jungkook eagerly takes on your challenge.    While you take up half the kitchen, he manages the other half, and the two of you share the center island together. You get your double boiler ready, chopping up chocolate to melt while Jungkook mixes butter, vanilla, confectioner's sugar, and milk together. The fucker doesn’t even use a hand mixer. He simply uses a spoon to make it, blatantly showing off as his veins in his forearm pop. He smirks when he notices you staring and you roll your eyes.   Jungkook makes a variety of colours, pastel pinks and baby blues, and puts them into the piping bag as you stir the chocolate over the heat.   You focus on the numbers on your thermometer, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.   He cuts squares of parchment, puts one on a flower stand, adds a small cone of thick buttercream to the paper, and then picks his tip. You muse that he must’ve been doing his studying when he chooses a one twenty seven tip. It’s a straight teardrop shape, and he squeezes while turning the nail wide ends towards the center, narrow end outwards.   But he sighs after a moment, hands halting.   It’s your turn to smirk.   “Not so easy, is it?”   His eyes flicker up to glare at you. “Keep a watch on that chocolate before you burn it again, brat.”   You scoff, continuing to stir. You keep your heat low so the temperature climbs slowly.   In the meanwhile, Jungkook switches his tip out for a one twenty and tries again. You take a glance, and it’s not too bad — still sloppier than yours and he knows it too.   After a moment of frustration, he switches to a one twenty two.   “You should check the consistency of that buttercream,” you sing-song. “Can’t be too stiff or soft.”   “I’m fully aware.”   “Are you?” You smile at him, mockingly so. “Just making sure.”   Jeon Jungkook doesn’t appreciate you provoking him, but realizes it’s similar to how he treated you. It’s not his fault his forte isn’t in teaching. And yours clearly isn’t either.   “A one twenty five?” You scoff. “Are you trying to make a rose or a peony?”   Jungkook’s smile is stiff. “What do you suggest I use then?”   “Go back to the one twenty seven tip or pick a curved teardrop shape. Also, you’re squeezing too hard too fast, muscle pig.”   “I know something else I squeeze too hard too fast,” he mutters as he follows your instructions.   “Go fuck yourself, Jeon.”   “Didn’t need to spell it out, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what I do every night.” He smirks and you roll your eyes again.   “God, you’re going to make me throw up all over my chocolate.” You take it off the heat once it reaches a hundred fifteen degrees, putting the rest of your chocolate in and mixing. You have a good feeling about this batch. Even if it’s your first try of the day too.   Usually you’d rush, get too impatient, but it’s entertaining to see Jungkook struggle. Time goes by faster.   You mix in your chocolate, bringing the temperature back up again, and you do a strip test when it’s all nicely melted, putting it in the fridge. All there’s left to do is wait a few minutes now.   You come back, dusting your hands off, feeling confident. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still piping flowers with his thick brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrates.   “It’s taking you a while there, Jeon.”   “Whatever.” He sighs, resting his hands on the counter as he rolls his neck. “You had a full three hours practicing with me on Tuesday. This is the first time in a while that I’m piping, alright? Give me a break.”   “Uh-huh. All I hear are your excuses. Less talk, more work.”   You grab some parchment and an icing bag he’s left abandoned in a cup. With a flower needle, you begin piping yourself to pass the time. It’s actually one of your favourite things to do — it’s therapeutic. You can listen to the sound of your own breathing and the crinkling of the piping bag while you make literal flowers from your hands.    You break out of your focus to find Jungkook watching you intently. Your arm extends, showing off your flower with pride. “Pretty, right?”   The icing flower has perfect ruffles and petals. It looks real, and by the expression he has, he’s already aware.    Jungkook grumbles incoherently and returns back to work, making you giggle.   You take another piece of parchment, but this time you steal a spatula-full of his blue icing and put it in the pink bag to make two-tone flowers. And you pipe them on, spinning the flower nail, as it comes to you with ease.   You listen to the crinkling of the icing bag, your heartbeat in your own ears, the white noise of the quiet kitchen, and Jungkook’s breathing. You’re not sure what compels you, perhaps a sudden urge, but you quietly blurt— “I never stole your millie cake recipe.”   “What?” His eyes flicker up and Jungkook finds you concentrating on piping, not paying him any mind.   “The September incident,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth. “I never stole your mirror glazed blueberry whatever millie cake recipe like you think I did.”   Maybe you’re telling him because things are different now.   You know he won’t jump down your throat and accuse you otherwise, for lying, or trying to cover yourself. Won’t denounce you. Bark out in laughter. Your relationship with Jungkook has become strange recently — you think it’s something other people would call a friendship. But you thought he should know. Just in case he still hates you for it.   You know you don’t hate him so much anymore.   “You threatened to go up to the Dean and expel me, remember?” Your pupils flicker up for a moment.   Jungkook recalls it clearly — the confrontation in the kitchen, the fight that broke out, how you slapped him, how he was planning to do everything possible to get you expelled. How you were ostracized over the rumours for weeks until people forgot and moved on as they naturally did.   But you and Jungkook never did. You always both remembered.   “I went to Mrs. Ahn before she left on maternity leave. I was stuck — didn’t know what to add to my portfolio, so I asked her. And she gave me your recipe as a reference. Told me to give it a try. Gain inspiration from it.”   You put your hands down, connecting your eyes with his.    Jungkook is rendered speechless. “And that was when I saw you…?”   “Yep. You busted into the kitchen without letting me explain and accused me of stealing your shit when I didn’t even know it belonged to you. I didn’t know you were the one who came up with it.”   “Why…” He shakes his head, frowning deep enough that it hurts. “Why didn’t you say anything?”   “You didn’t deserve it. The truth. I knew I was right and I was so….so mad that you could accuse me of stealing, that I could even be capable of such a thing. I wanted you to bring it up to the Dean. I wanted you to do it so you could be embarrassed when you realized what actually happened.”   It’s all in the past now. Your anger doesn’t surge as much anymore, but you can still recall a time when you felt utterly enraged he could think so lowly of you — a time when Jungkook didn’t deserve your explanation, so you slapped him. In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision on your part. You escalated the situation when it didn’t need to and it spiraled out of control.    You’re at fault for being rash and impulsive as much as he is.   “It wasn’t like I was going to use it anyway,” you mutter with a sigh and pick up a new square of parchment to continue piping. “For inspiration or whatnot, much less add to my own portfolio. I swapped the blueberries for blackberries, and it turned out to be disgusting. I messed up on the glaze part too.” You muse, “Chocolate’s never been nice to me.”   Jungkook absolutely baffled. Bewildered.    All of this hatred against each other was caused by a misunderstanding. All of it which could’ve been avoided.   “I—”   “Wow, are you kids practicing your techniques?” Miss. Kang is at the door, visibly impressed as she regards you both. “And here I was on my way home. You two are so diligent! And look at you both working together like this! I always knew you put your differences aside and be friends.”   “You have great timing, Miss. Kang.” You smile at her. “Jungkook and I were just having a friendly contest. Would you like to be our judge?”   “Sure. I think I can spare a moment or two.” She steps in, looking around. “What are we doing here? Looks like someone was tempering chocolate and you’re….piping! Goodness, me. Did you make those, Y/N? They’re very lovely.”   “Thank you.” You grin, beaming from the praise of your piping skills. “But the contest was me tempering chocolate against Jungkook piping.” You move over to the fridge, taking out the metal tray with your strip test. You hand it to her, and she hums.   “Very shiny, and it slides right off the parchment!” she exclaims. For the final examination, the young female teacher bends the chocolate and it audibly snaps. You could burst out into cries of happiness. “Looks tempered to me.”   You look over at Jungkook, head quirked to the side, wearing a big smile that’s infectious enough to make him grin too. “Here’s my piping.” He places the parchment on the counter and she leans over to study it, humming.   “Not too bad, Jungkook. A little messy around the edges, but I’d say a job well done. If this was an actual exam, I’d give you full marks.”   Jungkook cocks a brow towards you, sly smirk on his face. You step forward. “So which is better?”   “Well, it’s very difficult to judge on tempering chocolate and piping since they’re two completely different things. I’d say it was equal.”   “If you had to pick one?” you ask, desperate for a winner to be proclaimed.   Miss Kang hums a long note. You and Jungkook are put in suspense, anticipating her final decision. She taps her chin, deciding to chew on your chocolate as she studies the flower.   Finally, the teacher nods. “I can’t complain about the chocolate — it’s a hundred percent tempered. But I can say the piping needs a little more work, so…”   “I win!” You give Jungkook a cheeky grin causing him to scoff lightly.   “It was a stroke of luck.”   “Keep telling yourself that, Jeon.”   “It’s a tie,” he insists, “She said only if she had to pick.”   “That’s true.” Miss. Kang backs him up before you can retort.   But you still pout. “Sore loser. I win and you know it.”   “Hmmm.” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Let’s just call it even, Y/N.”   “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works!”   The pair of you argue back and forth — yet there’s no real malice. It’s simply banter and it causes Miss. Kang to laugh. She bids her farewell and quips that you both better get the kitchen clean. In the end, Jungkook compromises. He still insists it’s a tie but he does the hard work of cleaning the dishes and you give into his will.   As you prepare the mop water, he scrubs the bowls.   “I’m sorry,” Jungkook pipes up after a second of quiet contemplation. He turns his head to look at you. “For the misunderstanding.”   “You don’t have to be sorry.” You divert your vision elsewhere. “Not anymore. You’ve given me more reasons to be thankful. So we’ll call this even.”   Jeon Jungkook smiles softly. “Deal.”

[snelbz]

Lovely {6}

@tacmc​ x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ collaboration

A/N: Hello, you beautiful people. That’s right, it’s back. We love to see y’all’s reactions to our stories so please reblog and comment and let us know what you think! Enjoy!

FIND PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE

SHELBY’S ASK BOX // SHELBY’S MASTERLIST

TARA’S ASK BOX // TARA’S MASTERLIST

Azriel opened his eyes, enjoying the comfort of his bed. He assumed it was fairly early, considering only the faintest stream of sunlight had peeked through the curtains, and Asher wasn’t crying to be released from the confines of his crib yet. Until then, he would lay and relax.

There was a shift on the other side of the mattress and Azriel cursed himself, silently, for waking her; but, when he rolled onto his side, Elain was still fast asleep.

Her hair had come undone at some point in the night, and the brown curls were sprawled out across Azriel’s dark gray sheets. Her plump, pink lips were parted, her breathing even. His comforter laid just below her breasts, and it took a hefty amount of self control not to reach out and brush his fingers over her peeked nipples.

The night before had been incredible. They’d made love twice, and every other second was spent in drunk kisses and soft giggles. He took his time exploring her, and she with him, and he’d never experienced anything so wondrous and enthralling.

He was falling in love with her, and the thought was terrifying. It was one thing to like someone, to even like them a lot, but now he was falling, head over heels, at full speed. He had never fallen in love before, not like this.

He came with way more baggage than most men his age, and that was just the messy custody battle with Ianthe. He was dreading the conversation they’d have when she asked about his parents.

Draeven was not his father’s last name. No, he’d taken his mother’s maiden name as his own when the bastard was officially sentenced to prison. His name had never been formally released, always redacted in every story and news segment, so very few knew the truth, the notoriety of his childhood. He didn’t want to see the look of pity in her eyes when she found out.

He rolled over, pressing soft kisses to Elain’s shoulder, and just as she was starting to stir-.

A cry came from the baby monitor.

“Thanks, little dude,” Azriel groaned quietly as he pulled his discarded boxer-briefs on from the night before and hurried across the hall. Asher was sitting up in his crib, eyes wide as he gazed around the room. “Good morning,” he cooed, lifting his son from his crib and carrying him to the changing table. “We have a guest this morning, so we can’t be screaming this early, yeah?” Asher just chewed on the pacifier Azriel had popped in his mouth and stared up at his father while he put a fresh diaper on him. Azriel pressed a kiss to his belly and said, ��Glad we’re on the same page.”

A cute onesie was a necessity and after getting Asher as adorable as possible, Azriel carried him back to his bedroom. Where he found the bed empty.

He glanced towards the bathroom, seeing the light was off and it was empty. Then he heard a noise from down in the kitchen. He crept down the stairs and found Elain in front of his coffee maker, his shirt skimming her thigh. He could tell she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

On quiet feet, Azriel stepped up behind her and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Good morning, beautiful.”

She jumped as she spun around, and for a second Azriel thought that she might curse him for scaring her, but her eyes were on Asher’s. She took the giggling baby into her arms and said, in a perfect, high-pitched voice, “Good morning.”

Asher clapped his hands together, his toothless grin wide as Elain set him in his highchair. Azriel was already mixing his cereal together, which was a good thing, because Asher was obviously hangry. His angry little voice filled the air as he banged on his highchair tray.

“I know, I’m coming,” Azriel promised, grabbing a little spoon from the drawer and pulling a chair up in front of the highchair. After putting a bib around Asher’s neck, he was chowing down.

Before he could even ask, Elain had set a cup of coffee down in front of him. Azriel smiled as he put Asher’s spoon up to his little lips. Most of the cereal trailed down his chin.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, looking at Elain, who had sat on the opposite side of the table. “It’s going to be a coffee day. Someone kept me up all night.”

Her cheeks turned pink as she sipped from her mug. “Pretty sure it was the other way around.”

Azriel’s grin widened. “Fair enough, I’ll take the blame.”

Elain sucked in her bottom lip, and Azriel was just about to say something when Asher blew a raspberry and Azriel got splattered with cereal, all over his face and his chest.

He slowly set down the bowl and the spoon before looking at his giggling infant and saying, “Thank you. Thank you, so much.”

Elain’s hands were covering her mouth as she laughed. “Go clean yourself, I’ll take over.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh at Asher’s joy, and as he stood up, he kissed Elain, softly, before she took her place in his chair and started to feed Asher.

Azriel had only just made it to the sink when there was a knock on the door. He blinked, then looked to the clock above the stove. It was only just after seven.

He wiped off his face, but when the knock came again, he was hurrying toward the door. After pulling on a pair of sweatpants that were hanging over the back of the couch, Azriel opened the door, and stilled.

Ianthe was there, in her jogging attire - which didn’t amount to much. When she saw Azriel, bare-chested and hair still a mess, a wide, feline grin spread across her lips. “Well, good morning, baby daddy.”

He gaped and finally said, “What are- Ianthe, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my baby. Where is he?” She tried to peek around him into the house, but he angled the door where only his entryway could be seen.

“It’s seven in the morning. On a Saturday.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, becoming a veritable wall blocking her view.

“Well, we have plans this morning and I have to get him ready,” she said, taking another step up his porch stairs.

Before he could say anything, Asher’s happy giggle could be heard echoing through the house. And then Elain’s voice was floating towards him. “That’s not very nice, Asher. You can’t spit your breakfast on daddy and on me. No, you can’t. No, sir.”

Azriel had tensed and when he turned back to Ianthe, she had an eyebrow raised and her eyes were like ice. “Who’s that, daddy?”

“None of your concern,” Azriel said back, his voice calm. “And I have him until tonight. I’ll drop him off at six, like we agreed on.”

“Plans changed,” she snapped. “Now get my baby away from the whore or I’ll go in there and grab him myself.”

Azriel’s jaw locked as he stepped out onto the porch and shut the door quietly behind him. “Watch your tongue.”

“Or what?” she asked, intrigued. “What will you do, Az? As of right now, you have to do what I say, legally, and I’m telling you to get your pretty little ass inside, grab my son, and bring him to me so we’re not late.”

Azriel didn’t move.

Ianthe took a step toward him. “Or it’ll be awhile before I let you have him again. Understand?”

Azriel crossed his arms. “I don’t like threats.”

“Too bad,” she said. “I have the power, and you’ve already pissed me off by letting my son around that skank. As you’ve said, it’s seven on a Saturday morning. Now, why would a woman be in your kitchen so early?”

“Oh, fuck off. How many men have you been with this week alone, Ianthe?” The words came out of his mouth before he could think better of it. He pressed on before she could bite back. “Nothing in our agreement stipulated that I wasn’t allowed to be in a relationship.”

“Consider it added now,” she said, a wicked smile on her face, pulling her phone from her leggings, the gods knew where there was room. She typed out a quick text message and Azriel stared at her, in absolute shock.

He breathed, “You vindictive bitch.”

She smiled up at him again and was about to say something else that was meant to wound him, but he gripped her wrist with far too much gentleness considering the conversation, and turned it over.

Because that crazed look in her eye, it wasn’t only delight at fucking him over once again. There was a reason she was so chipper at seven on a Saturday morning.

The words were deathly soft. “Are you using again?”

Her arm was jerked from his grip before he could react. “Get your hands off of me. That’s none of your fucking concern.”

Azriel chuckled, humorlessly, as he shook his head. “You’re not taking him. You’re on a high, and you’re not taking him.”

“Don’t fu-.”

“You didn’t even drive here,” Azriel began, exasperated, his hands shaking from the pure anger radiating throughout his body. He looked behind her to find the street nearly empty, her car nowhere in sight. “What was your plan? Jog him on your hip back to your parents house? Fuck, Ianthe-.”

“Give me Asher.”

“No,” Azriel said, firmly. “I’ll drop him off, at your parents, at six tonight, so that I know he’s safe. And that was our agreement.” He’d have a talk with them, too, Ianthe’s parents.

Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Asher go with Ianthe. Not if she was back on drugs, not again. He would fight it, and if he lost his parenting rights in the process…

No, he wouldn’t let himself think that way, wouldn’t let his mind wander to the horrid, unfair possibilities. The world couldn’t be that cruel.

Then again. As a child, himself, the world was that cruel.

Ianthe hadn’t said another word. She stared at Azriel, venom igniting those teal eyes.

“Go home, Ianthe,” Azriel warned.

There was a small list of things he had expected her to do in response, but spitting in his face wasn’t one of them. His body tensed as her saliva smacked him in the face, right between his eyes. But then she was walking back down the porch steps, all while saying, “You made a big mistake, Azriel.”

He didn’t move, not until she was down the street, jogging around the corner.

Azriel stepped back into the house, heading straight for the kitchen sink. He took a paper towel off of the holder and wiped Ianthe’s spit off of his face. When he turned around, he froze.

Elain was sitting in the same chair, still in his t-shirt, and Asher was asleep in her arms. She was watching Azriel, though, her eyes full of concern.

All he said was, “Did you give him his bottle?”

She nodded. “Burped him, too.”

His smile was tired, but he said, “Thank you.” He sighed and let his head fall. “Elain, there’s something I have to do today, but I don’t think I can do it alone.” He swallowed hard. He’d never once taken anyone with him to meet with Helion, nor had he ever wanted to. But today, he needed someone there to steady him, to keep him grounded.

Because he’d never been so angry in his entire life. He’d seen red and couldn’t allow himself to do so, but the fact that Ianthe had actually intended to take their child while she was…

Elain stood, cradling his son as if he were the most precious gift, and walked to him. She took his hand in her free one. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

___

Rhysand had given Feyre a cup of coffee, but she couldn’t drink it. All she could think about was Tamlin, still lying on her couch. All through the night, it was all she could think about. No, she and Rhys hadn’t had sex, and every time they got a little too hot and heavy, she pushed him away and looked toward the doorway of her bedroom, thinking that Tamlin would be standing right there.

But he hadn’t moved, all night, and now that morning had come, she wanted him out of her fucking house.

“Do you want me to wake him up?” Rhysand asked, for the tenth time since they’d rolled out of her bed.

Feyre didn’t answer. She had told Rhys no so far, thinking that if Rhysand was to wake him up, there would be an instant fist fight, and that was no way to start a Saturday morning. So, instead, although she was unsure how it was any better, Feyre went to the cabinet by the sink and opened it up, retrieving a glass. After filling it up with water, she walked to the back of the couch and dumped it on Tamlin’s face.

With a shuddering gasp, Tamlin was sitting up and looking around. “What the fuck?”

“Time to go,” Feyre said, setting the glass down on the side table, with a little more force than necessary. He flinched at the sound, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it.

He groaned as he leaned forward, water dripping from his hair.

She sighed and said, “Come on, Tam, I’m serious. I need you to leave.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say a word. He just stood and turned to leave, but when his eyes fell on Rhysand, he froze. “You always have to win.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, but he remained silent. Feyre stared at the floor as she listened to his heavy footsteps walk through the foyer, and out the front door.

For a moment, the small townhouse remained silent, but then Feyre looked up to meet his gaze. “What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know, Feyre-.”

“Bullshit!” she yelled, exasperated. She was annoyed, angry, and sleep-deprived. She didn’t have the time or patience to be dancing around the subject any longer. “I have to know what happened between you two, Rhys. I like you, I really do, a lot, but I can’t deal with secrets, not anymore.”

His lips snapped shut, and for a moment, she thought that he would tell her he didn’t want to, that he wasn’t in the mood, yet again, but then he sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Fine.”

As if she wasn’t expecting it, which she truly wasn’t, her body stilled. Then, before he could change his mind, she was slowly sitting in the chair next to him at the kitchen table. She didn’t push him, didn’t rush him, only sat perfectly still, her anger turning into nerves. The possibilities of what he was about to say had her stomach churning.

He took a deep breath and said, “I’ve known Tamlin pretty much my whole life. We went to the same elementary school, played on the same teams, and we were… we used to be friends.”

Shit. Feyre had known there was history, but she didn’t know it went that far back.

Rhys continued, “I don’t exactly remember when we had our falling out, but Tamlin’s dad was always pushing to be better, by using me as an example. He’d talk to my dad at work, find out how I was doing in my classes, and then he’d go home and berate Tam about how much better of a son I was.”

Tam. The familiarity of the nickname made Feyre’s heart hurt.

“In short, somewhere in middle school, he started to hate me, and I understood it,” Rhysand continued, shrugging. “His dad was an asshole, and he had to have someone else to blame it on. Considering I was a part of the equation, it made sense that it was me.”

There was something sad, something regretful in Rhysand’s eye, but Feyre didn’t question it. She remained quiet, and she listened.

“Anyway, middle school went by and then high school began,” Rhysand went on, staring at his intertwined hands. “We didn’t talk much, only when we had to. We’d drifted into our own groups of friends, found our own places where we belonged, even though we still played on all the same sport teams yet. Anyway, that’s just kind of how it was between us, at least for a while. Things were tense, but they were never bad, you know?” He didn’t wait for Feyre to answer before he went on. At this point, it was like he was talking mostly to himself. “Our junior year, my parents were out one night, coming home with my little sister from a dance recital. They got in an accident, and none of them made it out alive. My parents died instantly, having gotten hit head on. And my sister, who was only thirteen at the time, was in a coma for two days before they made me make the decision to pull her off of life support.”

His voice had become a deadly quiet, and Feyre couldn’t breathe. Rhysand wasn’t looking at her, he was still staring at his hands. His eyes had lined with silver, those tears nearly about to fall, but he only cleared his throat.

“It, uh,” he started, then shook his head, sending those tears that had held themselves in down his tanned cheeks. “It was Tamlin’s dad that had hit them. He was drunk, behind the wheel, and swerved in his lane, going way too fast, hitting my parents and my sister.”

Every thought in Feyre’s mind faded away. She had never met Tamlin’s dad, and Tamlin wouldn’t talk about it, only told her that his dad was gone. She didn’t understand, not yet, but as Rhysand went on, all the pieces came together.

“He hated me after that, blamed the fact that his dad was in prison for life on me,” Rhysand said, a humorless laugh loud in the quiet of the townhouse. “And I hated him for that. I hated him for blaming that shit on me, just because he needed someone to blame it on.”

Feyre stood, rounding her table and taking his hands in hers. She knelt in front of him.

“Rhys, I’m so sorry.”

He smiled at her, it was sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. “You have nothing to apologize for. You had every right to ask, I just… It’s a part of my life that’s still painful to open up. I’m glad Rayn doesn’t remember any of it, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss our parents everyday.”

Feyre’s phone rang from the kitchen counter, and she glanced at it, but Rhysand said, “Go ahead, baby.”

She hurried to catch her phone before it was sent to voicemail, but when she saw her father’s name on the screen, she hesitated.

With a sigh, she answered, “Hello?”

“Feyre? Hi.” Isaac sounded far too cheery for such an hour. “Busy today?”

Feyre looked over at Rhysand, who was watching her with furrowed brows. “I’m...not sure. What’s up?”

“I was going to meet your sister for lunch. Was wondering if you’d like to join us?”

Feyre blinked. “Which sister?”

Isaac laughed quietly into the phone. “Nesta. Elain says she’s busy.”

Of course, I’d be the last one you call.

“I don’t know, dad, I-.”

“Come on,” Isaac begged, and the sincerity in his voice was overwhelming. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been back in town. Hell, I haven't seen you in six months. It’s just lunch. To catch up.”

Feyre leaned back against the counter, nibbling on her bottom lip as Rhysand continued to watch her, intently.

“Okay,” Feyre breathed. “Fine. What time?”

“Nesta told me she’d be at the diner at noon, will that work for you?”

She nodded, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t see her. “Sure, dad, I’ll see you then.”

Isaac sighed, “Thank you, Feyre, dear.”

She cringed. She hated it when he called her Feyre, dear. It felt so...formal. “You’re welcome, bye.”

As soon as she hung up, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the cabinets, which gently banged with a soft thud! Feyre groaned. The last thing she wanted to do, especially after a night of little to no sleep, was go sit through a forty five minute cold shoulder contest between her father and eldest sister.

But then she smelled jasmine and nightshade and citrus, and she felt fingers skimming up the outside of her thigh. Rhys breathed, right by her ear, “Don’t tell me I took the day off of work for no reason.”

Feyre tilted her head down until her eyes met his. He lifted her up onto the counter, stepping in the space in between her legs. She let her arms drape around his neck and said, “I’m afraid so. I have to meet my dad and sister for lunch.”

“What time?” He asked, leaning down and pressing kisses to her jaw.

His fingers dug into her bare thigh, her shorts having ridden up. She said, “I’m meeting them at noon.”

He glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the microwave. “We’ve got about five hours, don’t we?”

Feyre groaned. “It’s that early? Why aren’t we in bed?”

Rhysand leaned back and met her gaze. “Are you inviting me back to bed?”

Feyre grinned, tilting her head as she pretended to think on it. “If you carry me there.”

Rhysand didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted her off the counter and slowly carried her up the stairs, his lips never parting from her skin. Feyre closed her eyes and dwelled in his touch, in the way the touch of his lips set her on fire.

Rhysand carried her back into her bedroom, where they’d spent their night tangled in each other’s arms, and dropped her on her mattress.

They kissed for a little while, but due to her night full of worry and anger, Rhysand didn’t pressure her for anything at all. Instead, he pulled her back into his arms and rubbed her back until she fell soundly, peacefully asleep.

_____

Lunch had been horrible, just as Nesta had expected it to be. Nothing too eventful happened, but it was horribly awkward. She got a free meal out of it, she supposed, so that was a plus; but, she was grateful that it would be another six months before her father asked her out to lunch again.

There had always been that pattern.

Nonetheless, it was over and done with and the day was still fairly young, which meant she got to spend it at Cassian’s.

His apartment was on the other side of town from the diner she had met her dad at, and by the time she had gotten there through the busy city, she had nearly lost her mind. She hoped Cassian had wine, and that he didn’t judge her too much for starting to drink so early in the day.

He’d given her a key, just in case he was asleep when she arrived back, as he’d claimed that the previous nights’ activities had completely exhausted him. He’d even said that without a nap, he’d have no energy to please his girlfriend all night again. She’d rolled her eyes and kissed him goodbye, before smacking him in the face with the pillow she’d been sleeping on.

True to his word, when Nesta called Cassian when she was about five minutes away, he hadn’t answered. She laughed quietly, debating on the ways she could wake him up. She parked and let herself into his apartment, careful not to let the door slam. But Cassian wasn’t sleeping.

A gentle melody floated through the apartment from down the hall. Nesta froze in the doorway as the music grew louder, and slipped off her shoes and put down her purse before quietly tip-toeing down the hall. He was in his office, across from his bedroom, facing the wall where a small, wooden piano sat. It was old, but finely tuned. He said it had belonged to his grandmother who was a music teacher for young students back in the day.

He constantly thought about getting a new one, but he’d always said there was something about the piano that made him love to play even more.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew by the way his head was tossed back that his eyes were closed. He wore sweatpants and an old t-shirt, his hair tied up at the back of his head. He obviously hadn’t heard her come in, and she didn’t want to ruin the moment she’d caught him in.

As his fingers danced gracefully across the keys, Nesta leaned against the doorway and watched.

She closed her eyes, listening as the melody flowed around her. It made her heart want to dance, when so many things these days didn’t. Her soul felt like it could breathe and as she listened, she imagined the dance she would craft to his songs, the stories they could tell together.

Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying until she sniffled quietly and Cassian’s hands slowed and stopped on the ivory keys.

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see her standing there, and hesitated when he saw she was crying. “What’s wrong? How long have you been standing there?”

He was up on his feet and walking toward her when she answered, “Long enough to get emotional, apparently. You play beautifully.”

His eyes softened as his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her, softly. “You used the key.”

She nodded, her forehead falling into his chest.

He was quiet for a moment before he said, “You should keep it.”

Nesta kept her head pressed into his chest as she stilled and said, “It’s… Cass, are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon?”

He shrugged and she finally looked up at him. “I want to spend as much time with you as possible. If that means giving you a key so you can come see me, so be it.”

Nesta could feel her walls rising, could feel every instinct she had telling her to run, that it was too soon, that she couldn’t get attached. But regardless of all of that, regardless of the pit in her stomach, she nodded and said, “Okay.”

He could tense the tension in her body as he ran her hands down her arms. “You don’t have to always use it,” he followed. “Just when I’m lost in my music, or sleeping.” She chuckled and then he added, “Or, you know, when you miss me.”

She pushed back from his chest and lifted a brow. “And what makes you think that I ever miss you?”

He pulled her back toward him by her waist as he grinned. “Oh, you miss me. Judging by all the noises you were making last night-.”

She pushed him in the chest, trying to suppress her laughter as she did so.

[dekatsu]

This is the second part to whatever the hell this was.

Part 3 here

Because Katsuki could care less about some idiot trying to steal the cat that suddenly wound up in his apartment, he doesn’t bitch about it to his friends.

“Someone is trying to steal your roommate?” Kirishima asks, a frown on his face. Next to him, Kaminari is laughing his ass off for no apparent reason. Katsuki decides to ignore him. He’s realized that the best way to deal with Kaminari’s fits of hysteria is to pretend they aren’t happening. He might risk killing him otherwise. 

“I’m not going to repeat myself,” Katsuki says and takes another bite of his lunch. “If you spit in my food, you’re dead, Kaminari.”

“Dude,” Kaminari squeaks between bouts of laughter. “The way you said that. ‘Some surplus is after my roommate. I need a discreet solution.’ Discreet solution. Are you looking to assassinate them?”

Katsuki pulls his food closer to himself and makes a disgusted face at Kaminari, hoping the idiot will stop talking while laughing. “Don’t be stupid. 's not a political issue.”

“I’m more worried about the fact that you didn’t deny the intent to kill them,” Kirishima sighs as he passes Kaminari a tissue. Turning back to Katsuki, he says, “I thought you got along with Todoroki.”

That makes Katsuki halt for a moment and glance at his friend. “Todoroki is a plant,” he says, which is honestly explanation enough. How the fuck do you make friends with a plant who you sometimes feed and sometimes yell at to take a bath or put his fucking things in their place.

Finally having calmed down, Kaminari grins at him, chin propped in his palm. “Todoroki is pretty cool, actually. When he gets together with Midoriya, he really comes out of his shell. But Midoriya has this magic thing going on where he can just make friends with anyone so I guess he’s an expectation.”

At that name, Katsuki’s whole face scrunches up. The hell is with this Midoriya asswip, suddenly popping up in his life and threatening his everyday routine. “Shut it, Pickachu,” Katsuki grits out and stuffs his mouth full again, the spicy taste helps ignite the sparks of his anger. 

“Speak of the devil. Oi, Todoroki! Midoriya! Over here,” Kaminari calls out, prompting Katsuki  to choke on his food. Kirishima is still hitting his back when the dreaded asshole walks over to them with his roommate.

“Long time no see, Denki. All caught up on your lectures?” Midoriya asks, nodding at Kirishima before his eyes rest on Katsuki. 

Katsuki bristles immediately, feeling like Kuri when Todoroki had dared step too close to her while she was doing her business. He cuts in before Kaminari can reply. “What you staring at, asshole?”

Kirishima chokes on his food, Kaminari stares at him wide-eyed and his plant of a roommate frowns at him. 

Midoriya for his part just smiles at him and sits down to join them. He’s very much not welcome. “You must be Bakugou, then. Thank you for taking care of my cat. I heard you named her?”

“No,” Katsuki says and whacks Kaminari on his head when the idiot mutters something about delinquents and cats. Kirishima is still trying to recover from almost choking to death and is chucking down water. 

“He named her Kuri ‘cause she hiccups. He also bought her tons of toys and took her to the vet, even though I told him I already did,” Todoroki the traitor says, stealing a few fries from Kirishima’s plate. Kirishima pushes the plate in front of him, abandoning the food in hopes of surviving this conversation. 

“That’s a pretty name,” Midoriya remarks. He’s still staring at Katsuki like he’s got more to say so Katsuki glares at him, daring him to.

“No thanks to you,” he grits out through clenched teeth.

“I couldn’t call her name since I had to leave on a business trip so suddenly. Luckily Shouto said he would look after her for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Todoroki mutters through a mouthful of food. 

Katsuki holds the urge to tell Todoroki off again for his shitty manners. Instead he glares at his roommate. “You didn’t do shit, plant. I was the one looking after the damn cat.”

“I had her for a week before you got home,” Todoroki says and Katsuki immediately bristles at the admission.

“And you didn’t fucking bother to wash her?”

“She was clean.”

“She smelled like piss until I got her into the shower,” Katsuki retorts, standing up in his anger. Kirishima holds up placating hands and Kaminari scoots away from him but Todoroki stays seated, munching on his damn fries and watching Katsuki from beneath his bangs. 

That’s the shit you get when you have a roommate who knows you are all bark and no bite. Anyone other than Todoroki he would have flicked on the forehead but Todoroki has a special can of worms that Katsuki refuses to be part of. So he folds his anger into his words instead. “You are so fucking useless.”

“I tried,” Todoroki mutters, now frowning. 

“And I’m thankful for that,” Midoriya interjects, looking between them both and patting Todoroki on the shoulder. “I’m thankful you looked after her without any experience in doing so. Thank you to the both of you,” he says, placatingly. 

Katsuki sits back down and pushes his food around on his plate, reminded again that Kuri is not actually their cat.

“So,” Kaminari starts, looking at the table in large, before his eyes settle on Todoroki. “I heard from Katsuki here that you are moving out soon?”

At that Todoroki drops his fork and looks at them flustered, mouth hanging open. It’s an expression so unlike Todoroki that Katsuki frowns at him. He calls Todoroki plant for a reason. The guy doesn’t usually react to much of anything around Katsuki. Sure, Katsuki knows he blows hot and cold. He’s seen the guy go off on his father and watched him deal with the assholes who spread nasty rumours about the story behind his scar but that’s about it.

Seeing him genuinely affected like this is weird. 

“How?” Todoroki asks and Katsuki’s frown turns into a suspicious narrowing of his eyes. 

“Fess up,” he says, leaning forward, palm hitting the table hard. 

“Nothing to fess up to,” Todoroki replies, face falling into an impassive expression again as he picks up his fork.

“If you’re moving out. I need to know,” Katsuki tells him, feeling a headache coming. “I can’t afford that shitty apartment alone.”

Instead of answering though, Todoroki stuffs more fries into his mouth, determinedly ignoring Katsuki. Next to him, Midoriya gives Katsuki a tight little smile, looking guilty as hell even though he shouldn’t even be part of this conversation. 

Then it hits Katsuki all at once. This asshole ain’t only taking his pet, he’s stealing his plant as well. Katsuki takes his tray, stands up and stomps off, not waiting for his friends to join him. His next lecture starts in half an hour but he needs to get some fresh air. 

When Katsuki gets home that evening, Todoroki is sitting in the kitchen while Kuri glares at him from the counter. Evidently she’s still not very happy with the safety locks Katsuki had put on the kitchen cabinet. Katsuki grins at her and she jumps down to greet him the moment she sees him. 

After scratching behind her ear, Katsuki turns to the bathroom to wash his hands before he changes his clothes and joins Todoroki in the kitchen. He’s making dinner preparations when Todoroki finally talks.

“How do you feel about keeping Kuri?” 

The questions blindsides Katsuki so much that he has to put his knife down and turn to Todoroki. “The fuck does that mean?”

“The cat. Want her to stay?”

“Why? That Midoriya asshole got sick of her,” Katsuki counters, turning back to the cabbage. “If he gets a pet, he better look after it.”

“He’s four years our senior, actually. Helped me out with some stuff back in the day and came by to visit me today. I would appreciate it if you treat him with respect.”

“Like I care,” Katsuki mutters. “Homewreckers don’t deserve shit.”

“I’m not moving in with Midoriya,” Todoroki clarifies. “I’m… I’m moving in with a - friend.”

“The person whom you tried to sneak out three weeks ago but who tripped over Kuri’s water bowl?”

“How do you know so much?” Todoroki asks, sounding slightly awed. “You knew about my plans to move out, too.”

“I didn’t know shit about that,” Katsuki confesses. “I was talking about the damn cat but the idiots misunderstood. As for your stupid booty call, I have never known you to be stupid enough to step into a bowl of water and also, I saw the second pair shoes when I got back home.”

Todoroki falls silent behind him until Katsuki places their ready-made dinner on the table and sits. He waits for Katsuki to take a bite before he says, “it’s not a booty call.”

“I don’t care. We aren’t having this conversation.”

“As a roommate, you are pretty cool.”

“Shut it.”

“Your food is better than my sisters. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Look,” Katsuki says, feeling an itch at the back of his neck. “I don’t care whether you move out or not. Get lost for all I care. You aren’t much more than a plant I occasionally water anyway.”

“Right,” Todoroki says but the small smile on his face makes Katsuki want to break out into hives. What the fuck did he do to deserve this?

Katsuki aggressively stuffs his mouth full with his food, thankful that Todoroki has finally fallen silent. He’s done with his food and preparing a little something for Kuri, when Todoroki drops his dishes into the sink and says, “you never answered my question.”

Katsuki closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and grits out, “which one?”

“How you feel about keeping the cat.”

“Nothing,” Katsuki lies. “Why the fuck do you ask?”

“Actually…” Todoroki starts and the way he hesitates fills Katsuki with unease.

“Forget I asked. I don’t want to know.”

“Since I’m leaving-”

“No,” Katsuki says but Todoroki is a stubborn bastard who never listens even if Katsuki threatens to bin his shit and then follows through with it.

“I thought Midoriya could move in with you,” he finishes, speaking the dreaded words.

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, wishes again he could magically blow shit up to feel better about his life and the stupid choices he made to get here and again, is woefully disappointed when his hands don’t magically catch sparks. 

Instead Kuri purrs against his right leg and Todoroki gives him the kind of grin that says he knows exactly how Katsuki is feeling about the whole situation and is enjoying this newfound way of inflicting damage on him. It’s like a shitty farewell present and Katsuki feels his anger erupt. 

His hands don’t catch sparks for shit so he lets out a shout so loud, it makes up for the lack of explosions.

Todoroki honest to god laughs out loud, wild and untamed. It’s the first time Katsuki has seen or heard him do that as he runs for his room. Kuri sits down on the floor right by his legs and stares at him with wide eyes. Katsuki stares back, feeling like a child getting chastised. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. He gives her some treats, scratches under her chin and tells her in a soft voice, “but I’m not ever agreeing to room with your apparent owner. The hell kind of owner is he anyway, not naming his cat and leaving you in Todoroki’s care.” Then, narrowing his eyes, Katsuki hisses, “Todoroki Shouto, just you wait.”

Kuri follows suit and hisses in reply. Katsuki grins and pats her head. 

“All in due time, Kuri. Don’t you worry.”

[bisexualcrowley]

SFW Headcannons- Lucifer

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

This fucker is TOUCH STARVED, always wanting to be touching you in some way, whether it be full on bear hugs while cuddled up at night or a simple hand on your forearm when you’re sitting in the library

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Lucifer can the most dramatic, annoying motherfucker ever to grace the earth but he makes it fun. Being friends with Luci means constantly joking around, pulling pranks and really just enjoying yourselves with no limit.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

When you’re sleeping, Lucifer prefers to lay on his back with your body snuggled up on top of him and your head burrowed against his neck, but just for cuddling? Little spoon. Little spoon all the time, he just lives for the feeling of his back pressed against you with your arms tucked around his waist.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Much to your amusement, Lucifer’s an absolute garbage fire when it comes to cooking. The number of times you’ve come back to your motel room after a hunt to find that he’d nearly burnt the building down trying to fix you something to eat is astounding.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If it was just a fling, Lucifer would probably just straight up end things or if he really didn’t care, ghost the person, but if it was a relationship he really cared about he would sit his s/o down to talk it through, kindly explain to them why things have to end.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Once he finds the one, Lucifer absolutely wants to settle down and fully commit to his partner, but isn’t too keen in the idea of marriage for a number of reasons, the most prominent being that he’s practically immortal and the details would just make things complicated

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Once he really truly trusts you, Lucifer lets his softer side show, both acting far less tough than he is around the Winchesters and treating you delicately, afraid that he might mess something up and drive you away

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Lucifer puts on his tough guy exterior when he’s around others, but when he’s alone with you all he wants to do is tuck himself up in your arms and hold you

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Luci’s afraid of it at first, afraid to be rejected and afraid that he’d end up regretting it, but when the time comes when he can’t keep himself from confessing his feelings, you meet him with a kiss and immediately he knows he had nothing to be afraid of

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Lucifer gets jealous FAST, this man cannot stand to see another guy paying too much attention to you, always showing up and sliding an arm around your waist, or pulling you into a kiss that would be more than inappropriate in public to show everyone you’re his

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He loves to kiss you everywhere, but the ones that bring him the most joy are the the times he presses his mouth to yours in a soft, loving kiss that ends before it has the chance to grow more passionate. He always loves every way you kiss him, but when you hop up to give him a peck on the tip of his nose in excitement he can feel his heart swell 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

It’s laughable how clueless he is when it comes to dealing with children. It’s clear that he learned nothing from Nick about how to act around kids, and the few times where he doesn’t avoid them the interaction is painfully awkward, ending with an embarrassed Lucifer and you and the child laughing your asses off.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Cuddles, giggles and soft kisses that almost always turn into Lucifer whining and flashing you his puppy-dog eyes when you try to get out of bed, insisting that he’s more important than whatever it is you have to do that day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

It’s always a surprise with Lucifer, some nights are spent out bowling or causing whatever mischief comes to his mind, some nights the years alone in the cage get to him and turn him into a horny bastard, pretty obvious what you guys do then. Most nights though, and arguably your favorites are the nights spent in domestic bliss, cuddling in bed while watching a movie or watching Lucifer cheat at board games. The little things, that make you smile.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lucifer’s time in the cage messed him up more than he cares to admit, and from that he hesitates to flat out share things about himself, preferring to avoid the topics until whatever it is comes out accidentally or you figure it out from fragments of information.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lucifer has a quick temper, but the rare time that he snaps at you he apologizes right away, never wanting to take his anger out on the one person he cares about.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers the little things that make you smile more than anything else, your favorite flower, favorite snack, favorite movie, anything he can use as a pleasant surprise for you. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Back when he was still hallucifer, there was a day when Dean had let you drive the Impala. It wasn’t a long drive compared to the usual length for you and the brothers, just a couple hours, but you had been thrilled, immediately plugging your playlist into the car and grinning as your favorite song blasted through the speakers. Lucifer remembers Dean groaning, beginning to protest but being cut off as you cut him off with a mocking laugh of “Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” Lucifer had cackled at Dean’s look of annoyance, but his laugh died off when you started singing along with the music. You seemed so happy, happier than he had seen you before in the year he had been with Sam, and the beauty of the situation shocked him. Sam of course was baffled at the sudden silence from beside him, having grown used to Lucifer's constant annoyance and burst into laughter at the look of awe on the devils face, but Lucifer didn’t care, he was focused on you. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Lucifer likes to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat to feel secure. To him, it’s proof that he’s not back in the cage, you’re real, you’re there together and that he’s safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He usually doesn’t need to put much effort in, every little thing he does for you always turns out to be worth so much more than he planned

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Luci is absolute trash (pun not intended) at picking up after himself, always “forgetting” to move a plate from the table to the sink or leaving piles of clothes on the floor

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Every vessel he’s using always manages to look more attractive with Lucifer inside but Nick is objectively the most attractive, and Lucifer knows it. He doesn’t put much effort into his appearance on most days, knowing he looks hot without trying, but he does take the time to put together a good look the times where you’re going out, always managing to match his suit to whatever outfit you put on.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before meeting you Lucifer thought he was doing great on his own, but after getting to know you? He can’t imagine what it would be to be alone again, you’re a massive part of him and he never wants to give it up

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Lucifer likes to drape one of his wings over your shoulders as a show of affection

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Someone who doesn’t want to joke around with him, or someone who acts too controlling. Far too much like his dad, thank you very much.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

When Lucifer takes the time to sleep, he sprawls out across the entire bed. When you first join him under the covers he’ll pull you down to snuggle up against his chest and every so often he’ll keep an arm tucked around you, but more often than not his arms and legs end up stretched across the entire expanse of wherever he’s laying

[fandom-necromancer]

Fond memories

This was prompted on the Cyberpunk discord by Inquisitive! Hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077 | Ship: V/Johnny

When V arrived at the narrow street the client had specified to meet up at, they were a little over an hour early. They had planned in more time for scouting the place first as usual, but that had taken them less time than first anticipated. The street was almost deserted, the whole area around it filled with apartments that were inhabited by those who could afford the city – neither poor nor rich but also the part of the population with the lowest crime rate. The small market next to it made it the perfect place to have an undisturbed talk while still keeping a low profile to any onlookers.

All in all, it meant waiting for V. Not one of their favourite activities, but also not the worst that could have happened here. They found a crate on the ground that looked at least mostly clean and  sat down, leaning back and absent-mindedly keeping an eye out for any person approaching or looking their way. They were sitting there for about ten minutes, when suddenly a familiar feeling smell wafted over. They couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from, but they felt their stomach grumble as it was definitely the smell of freshly cooked food. They had smelled it before, but couldn’t remember in what context, only that it must have been a happy occasion as the memory of it was fond and V smiled faintly.

As if to interrupt that momentary happiness, Johnny appeared out of nowhere. V had been ready to sink back in on themselves, sigh and wait for the cocky bastard to disappear again, but something threw them off. Johnny wasn’t looking at them for once but towards the market with a similarly fond smile. V shook their head and groaned. ‘Is that one of your memories again?’ ‘Could be’, the engram answered absent-mindedly. ‘You may not know it, but not far from here there was a snack stall once that smelled just like that. Best food in Night city.’ V took in the scent more intentionally and frowned. ‘No, actually I think I do. Used to crash there a few times as a kid’ ‘We should go see if it’s still the same’, Johnny suggested, and V could feel his excitement.

V thought about it but shrugged and stood up in the end. They still had time until the client would be here and for once Johnny didn’t curse left and right. So, V followed the construct to the little shop, really not more than a snack bar with a few small tables. It was far from cosy but promised a refuge if you stumbled through the city drunk at 3 AM. And the food smelled heavenly.

V sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and Johnny joined them on the empty one besides them. Looking at the menu, V smiled as their eyes fell on the mid-prized ramen they used to eat as a teenager running the streets unknowing their dangers and feeling like the world belonged to them. As they still had dreams and completely confident, they would reach them. ‘Sounds like a good time.’ V looked at the ghost next to them disbelievingly. Something genuinely nice coming from him of all persons? ‘Yeah, I know. Shocking’, he huffed and pointed over the counter. ‘Someone wants to take your order, V.’

They looked up and threw the woman an apologetic smile, ordering their food and watching how it was freshly made. Well as fresh as it was possible with mass produced noodles of unclear origin and scop-paste mixed into the soup to give it at least some nutritional value. But it was far better than the kibble from their childhood and that might be mostly why they remembered the smell so intensely. ‘I used to come here too. When I was still alive.’ V didn’t really indulge him with an answer, but at the same time didn’t show him where to stick those words, so quiet listening was already better than most of their talks. ‘Back when Samurai was still just a small band begging to play in some shady bar. We only just started and used to crash here after a gig. Good times.’ V received their bowl and plucked some chopsticks to start eating. It wasn’t good by any means objective, but nostalgia and the memories it brought up from two lives did their part making it the best goddamn ramen they had ever eaten. ‘Hard to think you consider something “good times” when you didn’t get to blow up something’, V commented while hastily eating only pausing to chew. ‘Music is…’ Johnny shook his head and looked away to the street. ‘Ah, fuck, why am I even bothering explaining it to some braindead merc, literally a living corpse…’

V sighed. They knew Johnny was just a program, the remnants of a person invading their brain and killing them slowly but surely. But it was easy to forget when the Rockstar-slash-terrorist sat next to them, his memories sometimes as vivid to them as if they were their own. V felt the way Johnny thought of his music: A desperate attempt at venting what the corporations had done to him? Maybe, but also a means of rebellion in a world that didn’t care, that crushed a single person and their needs like an ant on their path to money, fame and power. Johnny was an asshole. Someone who – ironically similar to the corpos – put himself first, the rest of the world second. He was someone who was blinded by their rage and vengeance and narcistic worldview. But somewhere, on a deeper level, V understood him. ‘Must feel like I’m fucking with your head if you come to that conclusion.’ It was spoken drily, but his tone had changed to something a tidbit more friendly. Or tired? ‘Well, no one knows how this shit works’, V commented. ‘Could be you already overwrote my mind. Could be that even a bad person can have logical reasons for their actions.’ ‘Talking philosophy, V? Looks bad on you. People that do so usually have a brain and use it.’ ‘Shut up.’

And there they were again. Shoved into a dead end of silence, left to their own thoughts that were automatically broadcasted to the other with only their unwillingness to speak about it as a fake façade of privacy. And worse, V felt bad about it for some reason. Neither of them were here on their own volition. Silverhand was dead, killed fifty years ago, soul pulled out of his body to waste an eternity in an endless incorporate cold. And V? V should have been just another body washed up in the see of mercenaries trying to make a name for themselves in a city that forgot them in a second. And maybe, just maybe, now it could be their chance to change something. If not in the world, then at least for the one of them that survived. V almost expected the construct to speak up at that thought, but Johnny stayed silent.

‘What did you eat when you were here?’, they tentatively asked, ready to regret the question immediately. ‘Thought I should shut up.’ ‘I have fifteen minutes until I have to meet up with the client. Either we talk or spend the time in silence.’ They lifted the bowl up and downed the water to get back to pick out the remnants of the noodles on the bottom. ‘The Pad Thai here is amazing. The way the shrimp taste you can almost forget they aren’t real.’ ‘Sounds good’, V mumbled, downing the rest of the soup and paying for their food.

‘I think I’ll try that next.’

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 4

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5, 257

WARNINGS: Angst, Cursing, Explicit Attempted R*pe Scene, Descriptive Murder Scene, Recollection of Past Molestation

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for 8 months now. She feels like family more now than ever since she has a role for everyone in the family. But as she delivers the Shelby Brothers’ their food at the Garrison, trouble brews. She will commit something that will never go away for the rest of her life. 

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER 3.3  CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: HI! If you skipped to this chapter, that’s completely fine! I tried including the most important parts that took place in the extras. 

READ THE WARNINGS! THE 1ST LINE BREAK IN THIS CHAP MEANS THE SCENE IS STARTING!! LOOK FOR THE 2ND IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THE SCENE!! 

THANKS FOR READING!

It's been two months since the incident happened. Meaning I have been with the Shelby family for eight months in total. I did not get over it the night after, it took a week. 

Instead of getting over it the next day, I had tried drowning myself in work but they didn't let me, which led to me breaking down. It was embarrassing. Another bath was drawn for me and on that night, I had smoked my first cigarette. It made me both calm and riddled with anxiety. So, I haven't touched one since. 

I call Thomas, Tommy now. It happened after the incident. It was like I was a part of the family, in a way. I mean I hope I was considered family. After all, I do cater to every emotional need in the family. I act motherly/older sister-like to the children including Finn, a younger sister to Ada, a daughter to Polly, and I'm a coping mechanism to the rest of the boys. The nights that I'm not soothing Arthur, I'm with Tommy. John is pretty alright. To be frank, he has a tighter grip on demons than his brothers. However, I believe that's only because he doesn't want his kids to ever find out, or he has his different outlets that I don't know about. 

It has been really nice to sleep beside someone. By someone, I mean Tommy. You see, we had this agreement that I would just talk his ear off throughout the night, and he wouldn't use his opium pipe anymore. Now, I know he doesn't see me that way, but c'mon! He's just so fit! I honestly don't know if he's aware that I got a crush on 'em, but I just hope he's kept it to himself. I was never one for subtly in any of my pursuits. I always had a habit of staring. 

As I was sweeping away all the dirt in the house, I got incredibly bored. Since it was only Finn around, hopefully, doing his homework that I gave 'em! I began to sing. 

"Bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." 

It was so liberating to be able to comfortably sing. I started to get more into it. 

"You're a supermodel, shaped just like a bottle…" I held on to the broom, but made an outline of an hourglass figure with me free hand. 

"He could run his fingers through your hair." I raised my hands, ran my fingers through my hair, and jerked it behind my shoulders. 

"I bet you're a good time girl. But don't you know he's mine though?" I danced around my broom and then pointed to meself on the last lyric. 

"I was running around for a minute. Now he's the only one who can get it." I sang while smacking me hip lightly, trying not to make any other unnecessary noise. 

"So bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." While singing, I put on a sad expression. It was more like a childish pout. 

"Maybe I can fake it. Fake it 'til you make it." At this point, I had me eyes closed and was zoned in on singing. I started to dance slowly. 

"I can't promise, I'll be cordial. Got a mouth just like a trucker." Oddly enough, I started to sink down till I was crouching, but me knees were touching. I was also patting parts of me body as I went down. 

‘I really can't describe movements to save my life!’

"I can't even be a lady. Out in public for my mother, motherfucker." On the last lyric, I immediately stood up. I turned around, opened me eyes for a split second, and grasped the broom again. 

With me eyes now closed, I continued. "But bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." I put on the same sad expression to really feel the song. 

With the broom hugged against me body, I began to sway with it. "I won't blame him if he leaves me for you, oh." 

Me swaying came to a halt. "I won't even blame him if one day he runs off with you." I felt me own heart break for me imaginary lover's affair. Me voice came out softer than I expected.

 I didn't like that so I tried singing the next lyrics with a more happy tone. "Bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." I danced around the broom with more energy. I felt the sway of me dress with each turn. 

"Yeah. Oh, oh-oh. Oh, oh, oh. Don't steal my man. Bitch, don't steal my man. Don't steal my man." As I sang out the last of the lyrics, I stood still and opened me eyes. 

I expected silence, maybe even just Finn peaking in but it was worse. I was met with thunderous applause from the Shelby brothers, even Tommy. 

John hooted and whistled while clapping. "Whoo! We got ourselves an exclusive singer!"

"You're fucking right, John-boy! We 'ave our very own songbird." Arthur shouted. 

Tommy just had this smug smile on his face. 

I cringed at their "compliments''. I cringed very harshly from their comments! The worst part is that I can't tell if they're being sincere or not! "Piss off! Why didn't youse say anything? I'll make yez your scran then do one." I balanced the broom on the wall and shoved meself past them into the kitchen. All three of them started to fucking giggle. 

"Don't tell me you got so flustered that we brought out your scouser! Eh, Ali!" Tommy shouted. 

I sucked on me teeth. A habit I picked up from Tommy. I adopted it before I came here, though. It was actually a tick from Cillian, but he did it so many times as Tommy in the show, and well the real Tommy actually does it a lot. So, there was no getting rid of it!

‘I don’t why Tommy is acting so smug as if I don’t ‘ave to sing ‘em sad songs every night just so he can fuckin’ fall asleep. The bastard!’ 

"Shut up! Now, are youse gonna eat leftovers or am I making sandwiches?" I reached for plates that were in the cupboards and put them on the counter. 

"We'll have the leftovers, Ali." Tommy replied. 

I walked over to the icebox and took it out.

After they finished with eating and teasing, I had to finish cleaning up. It was especially difficult today because I decided to do a musical fucking number and Finn managed to work up the courage to ask me for help on his homework. 

By then, I was working on dinner with Polly. I did the peeling and chopping of the potatoes and carrots. She was making soup. We were debating about who Ada had been sneaking off with at night. I knew it was Freddie Thorne, but I was not going to be a snitch. Besides, she’s been using me as a scapegoat and I’m fine with her racking up her “I.O.U’s.”

The phone went off which Polly answered. I heard bits of it, but I was really trying hard not to be geggin' in. 

Polly sighed before saying, "Tommy rang said that they'll be eating at the Garrison. Go and take it to them, yeah?" 

I nodded in response. I got up and put our bowls into the sink. 

"Don't worry about the dishes tonight. I'll do those. Just give this to them and you'll be down for the night." 

I got me basket and put in three bowls and spoons. I lowered it ‘till it rested in the crook of me elbow, and then carried the pot of soup using both of me hands. Polly got the door. We said our goodbyes and I began me journey. 

As I was walking, men tipped their hats to me or bid me goodnight. It was strange to me for months in the beginning, but I've gotten quite used to it. It happens anytime I'm out and abar. 

As I got closer to the pub, I noticed these three young lads leaning against a wall outside. I wasn't sure at first but as I drew nearer to the door, their heads followed me. The middle one must have known the jig was up ‘cause he actually had the nerve to whistle at me. Like a dog. 

It stopped me in me tracks. I've never been treated this way in me whole life. After I became the Shelby family's maid, Tommy made it clear that nobody could touch me. I was off limits. Everyone in Birmingham knew that. But that didn't stop this cheeky lad who kept catcalling me and inching closer. I shook me head and then continued on. 

A man who was walking out greeted me, saw I was holding a pot, then held open the door for me to walk in, and even opened the second door. I thanked him. I walked over and knocked on the door to the snug. Arthur opened it after like five minutes of me waiting. 

"Here's your dinner. I'm off." I said while placing both the pot and the basket down.

"Oh c'mon, Ali. Stay 'n 'ave a laugh with us!" John shouted as he passed out the plates and spoons to his brothers. 

I shook me head with a smile on me face. His loud behavior made me want to laugh. But there was this sense of anxiety that washed over me.

'Maybe I should stay.' I thought. 

Me nerves were unsettled by the lads who were outside. I didn't want to know if they were waiting on me to come back outside. 

‘I would be safer in here.’ 

I stroked the edge of the table and took notice of its coldness. 

'Maybe I was just being paranoid. I should just go home. I would just ruin their fun.' 

"Aliena, are you alright?" Tommy asked. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. 

I smiled. It was, secretly, a sad smile. "Yeah, just grand. I'mma head on home. See youse tomorrow. Night!"

They all shouted back the same and I left. I kept the image of Tommy in me mind as I walked out of the pub. The cold air was nice against me hot face. But it didn't stop me from seeking warmth. I crossed my arms over me chest and hid me hands with me arms.

"Oi! Pretty lady! Wanna have a good time with us?"

"Yeah, come on! Show us a good time."

"You know, we're not from here."

I knew they were trying to close the gap between us. I tried walking faster. 

I could hear the pounding of their footsteps before I could react. Suddenly, there was a tight grip on me forearm and he yanked me toward himself. I gasped in surprise. 

"Come on, love. We came all the way from London to this shit city. Staying at this shitty hostel called… Something with Betty in it. So, how 'bout you fucking show me and my mates a good fucking time?" He squeezed me face in his hands. 

Me breathing quickened and heart was caught in me throat. 

"Le-Let me go! Fuck off!" I screamed. 

I managed to tear his hand off me face and I kicked his knee. He groaned in pain while doubling over to support it. I started to run, but I didn't manage to get very far. One of the others caught up to me. He caught me arms, swung me 'round, and slapped me across the face. 

Me ear rang and I felt a lot of pain. "Let me go! Stop it! Help me! Somebody help me!" I yelled as I tried putting me feet down, but he just kept dragging me. 

Nobody was helping me. 

'I'm scared. I don't wanna be raped!' I kept chanting over and over. 

Eventually, the guy tugged me into his arms and shoved me into an alleyway. I groaned on impact. Me stockings ripped and me hands skidded on the cement. I raced to get back up, but the man that threw me, bunched up the collar of me coat and threw me against the wall. I yelped and started seeing stars. Pain exploded throughout me head. But even then I knew he was taking off me coat. 

I heaved out a breath. He took that chance to shove his tongue in me mouth. It was so revolting. He tasted of booze, ciggies, and pure bad breath. I bit down on his tongue. He cried out in pain. He held his mouth. His grip was still tight on me collar. I tried running the other way since his friends were blocking the entrance of the alleyway, but he tugged me back and punched me. 

Now, that fucking hurt. I froze instantly. The pain was too much. I started sobbing. 

"Shut up!" He demanded. 

I didn't listen. So, I got a knee to the stomach. I grunted in pain and doubled over. He didn't let me soothe meself as he yanked me back up and started to attack me neck. 

I heard and felt as he ripped me dress open. I tried harder to push against his torso. I tried pushing him off of me. He ripped me bra and I felt his tongue roam me chest. I cried out. I was disgusted. Me stomach was churning. I reached up and yanked him by his hair. 

He shouted in pain and punched me in me ribs. I groaned. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see his two friends just staring at us. They were enjoying watching me struggle. They were smoking and sharing a bevvy. They were smiling at the sight of me, they were laughing at me!

He didn't stop there. He grabbed me by me arms and threw me against the wall multiple times. I tried sticking out me neck forward. It was an attempt to protect me head and it worked… a little. I was completely out of it by the time he stopped doing it. 

I could feel yet I was also numb to it. It was like the incident all over again. I still thrashed me arms around, but it was so weak. I was so beaten. Me body was not used to this. It wanted to shut down. I knew it did. But then me fingers grazed something on his upper torso. Me breath hitched. 

It knew this spot to be special. Tommy had a special spot here too. It was a gun holster. I felt me attacker raise me left leg and push my panties aside. 

After that it was such a blur. It all happened so fast. 

I took the gun out of its holster, pressed it into his torso, cocked it, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang through me ears. All I heard was white noise after that. 

I held onto the back of his neck, supporting his weight by leaning him on me body, looked to my right and saw that his friends had run off. It was then that I heard his choking gasps. I felt nothing. I pushed his body off of me and cocked the gun again. His fingers started to outline his bullet wound. He stared up at me in shock. 

He held his hands up, begging for his life. I looked down and stared at his leg. I aimed and fired. He screamed in agony. I cocked the gun. I aimed at his shoulder and fired. Another scream ripped from his throat. 

At that moment, I felt me mouth twitch upward. I felt meself smirk. Me eyes widened like a madman. I felt powerful. I walked closer to him and stood over his body. Slowly, I cocked the gun. He whimpered and put his hands up slowly. Hands covered in his own blood. I relished the terror in his eyes. 

I felt the smile expand on me face and I aimed for the middle of his forehead. I exhaled sharply before closing me mouth up. The action caused me to giggle uncontrollably. He sobbed louder but also somewhat slurred. He was dying. I knew that and he knew that. 

So, I withdrew the gun and took a small stumbling step back. I contorted me face in fear— it was all an act, and watched as he put his guard down. I stayed like that for about a minute before I couldn't manage to hide me smile anymore even while biting me lip. In a flash, his face lit back up in terror and that's when I took a step forward and pulled the trigger. The smile fell from me face. His hot blood had splattered all over me face, blowback I heard it was called.

"Oi!" A man shouted. 

I looked up to see no one that I would know. However, the man was wearing a peaked cap and was accompanied by three others. All guns were raised and pointed at me. 

They inched closer to me and I took a real stumbling step back. 

One man gasped. "That's Aliena Welsh. Mr. Shelby's maid!"

They put down their guns and rushed to me. I just stood there. Then, I looked down and stared at the gun. Me hands were trembling like leaves, but it was all an act. One of the Peaky men held out his hand toward me, I flinched and he stopped. 

"Miss, let's get you home. We'll take care of 'em. Come now, dear." He gestured to the gun and reluctantly I gave it to him. Another man gave me his coat. I wrapped myself around it. 

"Come, Miss." He waved me to follow him. 

I looked back and watched as the other men started to deal with the body. One man hauled him up by his armpits while another picked him up by his legs. 

Almost in a trance, I said. "No. I'm going home by meself. Go 'n tell, Tommy, what’s happened." 

Then, I rushed past him. At first, I was speed walking and then I was running. I was running with one hand holding onto me torn dress. The man’s coat had flown off of me shoulders. I was basically just covering me chest. Me stomach was on full display, though. 

But, of course, me suffering would not end. Me heel got caught and I tripped. I caught meself but it made me pre-existing wounds hurt even more. I sat there in the middle of the sidewalk. Panting for breath. Me lungs, no, not just me lungs. Everything hurt. Especially, me head. 

'I'm finished,’ I thought, ‘I can never go back now. I can’t go back to my family after I’ve killed someone. I-I can never be saved by any higher power, or have salvation for my soul. I... I killed him.’

I started to laugh, maniacally. I just giggled and laughed. Until they turned into blood curdling screams. Once I lost breath, I desperately inhaled and then sprang myself up. I continued running until I got home. With the door in sight, I started to sob. The worst part of it was that I wasn't crying because of what happened. It was because I knew I needed to look distraught. I knew deep down that I had absolutely no regrets pulling that trigger. 

I probably even liked it. 

I started banging on the door. I could hear Polly yell for me to stop. I didn't. Not until she ripped open the door. I saw as her gaze contorted from angry to something else, maybe astonishment. She brought her hands to her mouth. Her eyes watered which made me look away. 

"Oh my god." She whispered. Polly sounded so choked up. Her sadness seeped into her words. 

Her hands slowly reached out to me. They were shaking so much. And I broke. I started to cry, sob, wail. 

"Polly! Polly… " I repeated her name over and over. She drew me into a hug and helped me inside. I hid me face in the crook of her neck. 

"Sh! It's alright, love. I have you now. Ada! You're safe now. ADA, GET DOWN HERE THE FUCK NOW!"

I knew she was leading me into the living room. She helped me sit down and she never stopped stroking me hair. 

Before Ada could ask any questions, Polly told her to bring the tub in and to draw me a bath with hot water. I was still crying. I sounded awful. 

"Pol, what's happened?" Ada asked as she poured the hot water into the tub. 

"I don't know! Just focus on what I've told you to do! Ali, love, I'm goin' to be right back. You need ice for your face." She kissed the temple of me forehead and then unwrapped me from her. 

I looked at her empty spot with hollow eyes. Then, I trailed over to Ada. Her mouth hanging open slightly. 

I gulped. Me mouth was completely dry. The tub was full. I stood up slowly. I didn't even realize it would hurt. Hell, I didn't even realize that there was blowback on me breasts and neck, not just me face. I slipped a finger under the strap of me bra and carefully slipped both it and me dress off of me body. 

As I went to take off me panties, I suddenly remember I had thigh high stockings. I closed me eyes shut and sat back down. A wince left me mouth. I kicked off me heels, reached down, and tugged them off with very strained effort. When I stood back up, heels clicked on the floor meaning Polly was back. I slid off me panties and then entered the tub. 

Ada tried to protest but it was too late. I had already submerged me body in the scathing hot water. It burned and yes, and Polly yelled at me for it. But then I got used to it and she was holding the makeshift ice pack against the left of me face where the bastard struck me the most. Ada, with a towel in hand, was scrubbing the blood off of me body. She was being so delicate with me.

That was when the door flew open and in came the Shelby brothers. The sound of the door banging on the wall made me cringe. I closed me eyes at the sound. Just as I was tipping me head back, me face was grasped and inspected. 

"Who did this? What the fuck happened!" Tommy shouted. 

"Stop your fucking shouting! She hasn't said a word… Aliena, love. Can you tell us what happened?" Polly asked. 

Languidly, I opened me eyes. Tommy's eyes were blown wide. And, I could finally read his face. He was angry and worried. I looked behind 'em and saw John and Arthur were doing no better. Arthur was raising a fist to his mouth repeatedly before striking the couch. John was pacing back and forth while sniffing a lot. Ada was crying beside me. She took her hand in mine. 

I felt loved. I felt safe. 

I exhaled loudly with me cheeks puffed. I made a kind of "oo" noise like when women give birth. I swallowed a sob and began to speak. 

"There was these three fuckers outside the Garrison. They were eyeing me real hard before I went in. I thought I saw wrong because well, no one in the city disrespects me. Ha!" I looked away from Tommy as I ran me tongue over the inside of me cheek. "When I went back out, they had already gotten like closer. They were catcalling me. Saying things like I should show them a good time. That I owed it to them since they were from out of town." I scoffed and looked down at me chest. 

Me bare chest. It was still covered in blood. Me face contorted. I was filthy. I had a disgusting man's blood on me body. I raised me hands and started rubbing on me skin. It had dried somewhat. It wasn't coming off! I started to hyperventilate and scratch at me skin. 

"Eh, stop that, Ali! Eh! Aliena, stop that!" Tommy took my hands from me neck and into his. Me eyes widened and I could feel me head twitching to the right. 

His thumb made small strokes up and down me hand and I started to calm down. 

"One of them ran to me when I started speeding up. He grabbed me and I screamed for help. I tried fighting. Kicked his knee and ran for it. But another one caught up to me, swung me 'round, and slapped me. I kept screaming for help, but nobody was… " I took a deep breath. "They threw me in an alley and then against the wall. I kept on fighting. The guy who was gonna… Well, he was wearing a gun. So, I… I-!"

I shook me head, violently. "I shot 'em, Tommy. I took his gun and shot 'em. His mates ran off. And yeah…" I slipped me hands out of his grasp and finally allowed me head to tilt down as I rested me eyes. 

I muttered. "Me virtue lives to fight another day." I snickered, mirthlessly.

I felt rather than saw Tommy's explosive response. He slammed his hands against the tub while screaming, "Fuck!" 

Polly and Ada both gasped. 

"Did they tell you anything else, love? Like where they were planning on taking you? Or where they came from?" Polly asked, always quick to regain composure. 

I nodded. "Said they'd come from London. Staying at Betty's. I think that meant that lodging place that's run by that… "

"Semi-retired prostitute." Tommy finished. "Right. John, Arthur! Let's go!" 

Polly didn't even try stopping them. The door closed with the same bang. I started to cry again and this time I had two women soothing me. 

They cleaned the blood off of me. They washed it off of me body and hair. They put me in a nightgown and Polly brushed out me hair. Afterward, Polly sent Ada up to bed and we cuddled on the couch. 

I cleared me throat. "This isn't the first time. Not even when Tommy brought me home that day two months ago. No. The first time it happened was when I was 13 or 14. Me ma’ let me have a bevvy for the first time. It was Thanksgiving 'n all. I got so bevied up that me sis offered me to sleep in her room. I wanted to see the baby, so everyone went along with it. You see, I was supposed to sleep at the end of the bed while she was supposed to sleep next to her husband. It didn't end up like that. I slept next to 'em with the baby in the middle of us, and my sister was at the bottom. 

It was fine 'til I woke up and he was fondling me. He was playing with me breasts and kept running his hand up and down me thigh. I fucking froze, Pol. I froze for so long. But I managed to get away. I went running to me room. I told me ma’ in the morning and she told me sis. They didn't believe me. Me ma’ wanted her granddaughter to grow up with both parents, so she hid it from me da’. Me sis just thought I was lying for attention. I had to be in the same house with 'em for so fucking long!" 

Polly sucked on her teeth and held me closer to her. She held me so tight that I could hardly breathe. Tears escaped me eyes but me face wasn't contorted.

 I was so tired. 

As the night went on, Polly eventually walked me to bed. She tucked me in like I was a child. She kissed me forehead before walking out. Once I hit the bed, all fatigue washed away. I was left with me own thoughts. I couldn't fall asleep now. 

I brought fingers to me face and lightly pressed on the outside of me bruises. I hissed in pain and withdrew me hand. 

'I don't wanna see me face.' I thought. 

But because I acknowledged it, I wanted to do it. I slowly got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror. Me left cheek and eye were both bruised. It wasn't absolutely horrible, but I've never seen me face like this before.

I huffed as I dropped me hand from me face. I opened the palm of me hand and traced the outline of me scrapes. They burned like a bitch when I was in the bath. I slowly crouched down and did the same to the scrapes on my knees. But as I did so, pain shot up throughout me body because I neglected the bruises on me stomach and ribs.

 I was littered with fucking bruises. 

I sighed, running a hand through me hair as I tilted me head back. I pinched the bridge of me nose. I was brought out of me trance when three soft knocks rang through the room. I jumped at the sudden sound. 

"Ye-Yes?"

The door opened and it was Tommy. He had dressed down. He was in his pajamas. A white long sleeve shirt and pants. I never asked if they were his work pants, but they were eerily similar. 

He cleared his throat and flicked his nose. "It's done. We found 'em and dealt with them." 

I let out a loud breath of relief. They were dead. I wouldn't have to worry about them at all. Unlike in me original world where I couldn't sleep because I feared he'd come for me and me family. 

I ran me hand through me hair, and bunched it at the front. I looked up at Tommy. "Thank you." I whispered. 

With his hands now in his pockets, he nodded. 

I knew what I was doing. I knew that I probably shouldn't ask, but I didn't want to be alone tonight. I ran to him and hugged him. He returned it, hesitantly. He soon rested his chin on me head. 

I felt him kiss me head and he whispered. "Sleep with me tonight, eh? You shouldn't be alone tonight." 

I nodded with me head still buried in his chest. Slowly, he guided me to his room. I climbed into his bed and he did after me. I faced the wall and allowed his arm to be me pillow. I gathered me hair and put it all to the side where his arm laid. 

I could hear his breathing and that's all it took for me to start drifting off. Me eyes fluttered open when I felt his fingers comb through me hair. He couldn't fully thread his fingers through me hair, but it was still soothing. 

"You're safe now. You'll be okay." He whispered over and over. 

His voice is something I always want to fall asleep to... 

It didn't take me long to fall asleep at all. I was safe in the Shelby house, in Tommy's arms. 

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston​ @nemesis729​

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

Okay so Sooga can't cook. But can Master Kohga cook? And would he try to teach Sooga, for a bit of domestic fluff goodness??

Imma make this as fluffy as I can for you, anon! I’m gonna be SUPER busy, so some asks will probably be on the back burner. Having said that, Imma dip into these when I can because you guys have SUCH good ideas?? 

Also It’s not that Sooga can’t cook, he just can’t cook WELL. Stuff is always off with his cooking. Too salty, too sweet, undercooked, SOMETHING. Kohga is picky so he notices. Either way, let’s GO!

“Urbosa! Get over here!”

Kohga (as well as the champions) had been spending all day together in the kitchen (upon prompting from Zelda), and Kohga had more or less commanded the cooking area. When Kohga wasn’t busy killing people or sleeping, he was being a rather pleasant company to have around. He started off by making drinks, and Sooga offered to help. Which was apparently a bit of a mistake. Urbosa sighed as she left the table, and walked behind the counter. Kohga motioned to two cups.

“You try one, and tell me which one has alcohol in it.”

Urbosa tried one, then another, lightly shaking her head.

“One on the left? Right one tastes just like juice.”

Kohga motioned wildly to the cups, as if they made a scientific discovery.

“Ha! See, that’s the thing! BOTH do! Somehow!”

“I...don’t put enough alcohol, that’s the hint I’m getting.”

“No matter how many times I shove MY dick in THAT ass, he makes drinks like a FUCKING virgin! You know what, get a fucking apron on, I’m teaching you how to be competent in the kitchen. You can’t JUST have a top notch cock, you dumbshit.”

Kohga turned around to get them both an apron, and Urbosa chuckled at his puzzled reaction.

“Hey, he does have a point. Everyone should learn how to cook. Besides, him being this upset just means he really loves you.”

“Don’t you DARE make me out to be mushy, Urbosa!”

Kohga walked back up to them, throwing a pink apron at Sooga’s face. Urbosa chuckled as Kohga put his own on. It was clear she was right, but the relationship was still new to him, so he was still in denial of his feelings. Urbosa grabbed one of the drinks (Kohga’s, obviously), and shrugged.

“I’ll just be taking this then, carry on love birds.”

Kohga lifted a finger to retort, before Urbosa turned around and joined Daruk back at the table. Kohga waved her off, muttering something under his breath. Sooga couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re just charming, Master Kohga.”

“Save the sweet for the cooking, tits mcgee.”

Kohga patted his left tit, before going to the sink and washing his hands, Sooga following suit.

“So? What will we be making?”

“Good question. What do you WANT to make?”

“Hmm...what’s something YOU like?”

“Kiss ass.”

Kohga chuckled, drying his hands with a towel. Sooga honestly just lived for Kohga, and it was terribly sweet of him.

“Alright, let’s do crepes with fried bananas.”

Sooga nodded, more than confident enough to prove himself. Kohga dug into the cabinets to grab everything (with help from Sooga. Tall bastard), before Kohga put two bowls in front of them.

“Now, follow me. We’re gonna add a cup of the tabantha flour. Then, a tablespoon of sugar.”

“I always thought it was a cup of both.”

“No wonder you always burn those fuckers- that much sugar burns it, you dumbshit. Now, not everyone does this, but they SHOULD. Add some salt, help balance out. If you think a food doesn’t need SOME salt, you’re wrong.”

Sooga nodded along, carefully listening and following his instructions, as if this was a training session. 

“How did you learn all this?”

“Mom taught me. She loved cooking, but she worked hard, so sometimes she was too tired to cook. When I got older, I ended up doing the cooking around the house. You only get better the more you do it. Except YOUR drinks, you’re hopeless.”

“Like my love for you.”

“Iean down, imma smack you upside the head.”

Sooga chuckled, watching his little master grumble to himself. Kohga took out another bowl, and added milk, as well as an egg.

“Now. You mix the wet and the dry together.”

“Why not just do it all together to begin with?”

“Lumps, you get lots of ‘em if you do that.”

Sooga nodded, watching as Kohga mixed the ingredients in their separate bowls. Sooga could watch Kohga cook all day, if he let him. Sooga copied Kohga as they mixed the dry and wet together, whisking it till it was nice and liquidy.

“It’s supposed to be this liquidy?”

“Yeah, any thicker and it’s a pancake. Now, we’re gonna put this in the fridge for as long as we can, get some flavor out of it.”

“What do we do while we wait?”

Sooga took the bowls, and put them in the fridge, just in time to catch Kohga grabbing bananas and putting them on a cutting board.

“We prep everything else. This should be easy for you. I need you to cut all these in little squares. And listen to me while I show you what I’m doing, but be careful.”

“Afraid I’ll cut myself?”

Sooga grinned as he peeled the bananas, starting to cut. One thing Sooga was VERY good at in the kitchen, was cutting. Always clean, always uniform. Kohga dug into the bag of sugar that he had at his side, and tossed a bit towards Sooga’s apron. Wasteful? A bit, but Sooga’s dumb smile was getting on his nerves.

“If you don’t, at this point I will. Now, I’m gonna throw some butter in this pan, and we’re gonna add the bananas here soon as you’re done. This, and some whipped cream, is gonna be our filling.”

“Doesn’t it burn if it’s hot?”

“If you actually know how it works, no.”

Sooga was careful not to cut himself as he watched Kohga throw butter, sugar, and some spices onto the pan. He watched as the sugar browned slightly, and Kohga motioned for Sooga to pour the fruit in. Once it was inside, Kohga handed him the spatula.

“Now, keep mixing it. Don’t change the temp, don’t let it sit.”

Sooga watched as Kohga grabbed a bag of acorns and chickaloo tree nuts. He cracked them surprisingly effortlessly in his hands, quickly and efficiently separating the shells from the insides. Sooga found it hard to pay attention to the pan, and his Master’s hands. How did hands so soft and lovely make such hard work look so easy?

“Is that going in the batter?”

“No, with the bananas. Adds some crunch, and a little bit of sweet.”

Kohga’s arm pushed against him as he added the nuts to the pan, motioning for Sooga to keep going. 

“Now, this is just how I like it, but we’re gonna add a swig of apple juice. Adds a BIT of tart, because this is going to be sweet as hell. Especially since we’re gonna add a touch of rum, to taste.”

“...Master Kohga?”

“Don’t tell me I lost you already, big guy.”

“Just in your eyes, Master Kohga.”

Kohga looked up at him, and reached his hand up, pushing him away a bit.

“You are SO mushy. No wonder you can’t cook right, you’re too busy ogling me all damn day.”

“You make it quite hard to focus.”

He chuckled. He kept mixing, as he was instructed. Kohga added butter to the pan, shaking his head at Sooga’s stupidity. He was just, such a lovestruck idiot. Once the butter started to lightly bubble, Kohga dug into the fridge, bringing out the batter.

“Okay, let’s start the important part. You can turn that off, cover it with the pot lid. I’m gonna let you do the first one. Three tablespoons into the pan.”

Kohga gave him the proper pouring tool, and Sooga obeyed. He was about to ask what to do next, when Kohga held onto his hand, helping him turn the pan. Sooga could chuckle like a lovesick fool right now, honestly. He really did have nice, soft hands, and Sooga wanted to hold them forever.

“Tilt to get it everywhere. Nice and slow, get it everywhere. Three minutes, then flip. Anymore and it’s like eating a damn ear. Speaking of ears, are you listening?”

“To every word, Master Kohga. Every single, solitary word.”

Kohga turned to look at him, finally seeing why he sounded more stupid than usual. He was SWOONING. Literally looking at him, and SWOONING like an idiot. Kohga scoffed, flipping the crepe for him.

“Alright, then listen to this. See how it’s got a nice, brown crust? We want it kinda crispy.”

Kohga let Sooga ogle him for three minutes, before finally taking it out of the pan, setting it onto a table.

“Taste it.”

“You?”

“W-no, the crepe you dingbat!”

Even Kohga had to chuckle at that. It’s why Kohga never let his ass watch him cook, it was just. All of this. They split the crepe, and Sooga nodded.

“You’re truly wonderful, Master Kohga. It’s lovely.”

“Good. Now, you’re turn, all by yourself.”

Kohga was going to step back, but Sooga’s puppy dog eyes kept him standing right there. Sooga added the batter to the pan, carefully turning the mixture till it coated the whole pan. He waited the three minutes, before flipping it. Kohga nodded in approval.

“Good crust, good crust. Keep it going.”

And that’s exactly what he did. Kohga sat there, watching his Sooga make crepe after crepe, and Kohga couldn’t help but chuckle. He was constantly asking if it was okay, constantly peering over him for approval. Honestly, if Kohga told this man to get him a piece of the moon, Sooga wouldn’t hesitate to reach for the stars. Soon enough, there wasn’t any mix left, in turn, leaving quite a stack of crepes. Kohga flipped through the stack, nodding.

“Better. Though some are a bit darker than others. We’ll work on that. Now, best part.”

Kohga placed one on the plate, added a hefty dollop of cream and honey, then folded it into a nice triangle like shape. Sooga watched him carefully, clearly wanting it to be perfect. Kohga folded another with cream and honey, then another. His usual was three at a time, but he might just have more (to support Sooga of course). He topped it off with the banana mixture, and dusted it with powdered sugar, just to make it look good. Sooga followed his stead, though he didn’t do it so cleanly. Folding it was hard for him apparently, causing him to get whipped cream all over his fingers, and even on his mask. It was a sloppy plate, but it was Sooga’s plate. Kohga shook his head once he saw the state of Sooga.

“For the love of- get over here, idiot.”

Kohga grabbed a hold of his face, wiping the cream off of his mask. Sooga sat there, letting him do so with such loving eyes. It was totally gross, in a sweet way.

“Master Kohga?”

“If the question is ‘am I an idiot’, then absolutely.”

Sooga chuckled, lightly shaking his head.

“I just...thank you. I enjoy listening to you when you teach. You love what you do, and there’s something so absolutely beautiful about that.”

“Yeah yeah...well. I like teaching you. You’re eager to learn.”

“I’m eager for YOU, Master Kohga.”

“Well geez Sooga, I know I’m pretty sweet, but-”

Before Kohga could finish his retort, Sooga suddenly lifted him off the floor, lifting their masks up a bit, and kissing him, right in his gorgeous lips. Was it a bit much, nearly throwing Kohga onto the counter and leering over him to kiss him? Absolutely, but neither seemed to care in the slightest. Just for a minute, they were there in an embrace, as sweet as sweet could be. Totally ignoring the table of people just a few feet away. Daruk lightly coughed, trying to ignore the fact that Sooga’s tight grip on his Master’s ass was smearing whipped cream everywhere.

“I...don’t think we’re gonna be eatin’ anything any time soon.”

[comfy-whumpee]

Nano: Revenge

He ate like he thought it would be his last meal, every time. No matter if Rain brought him one meal a day or three, over the next week, he ate like his life depended on it. He pulled back when he was finished, curling into a ball or lying down on his side, half-folded. It was strange, and sad, but far unlike what they had expected. Where was the rushing charge? The violent escape? The victorious comeuppance?

Rain stood by the hatch, watching. Lauritz never quite put all of his attention on the food, always glancing up at them and down again. Something about how they acted, or maybe just his experience so far with two people who hated him, made him constantly wary for the food to be taken away again. Perhaps he wasn’t convinced that they wouldn’t just let him die if he annoyed them too much, or if they got too angry, or if they simply felt like it... Given what they’d done to his nose, they supposed that was fair. Smart of him, even, not to trust them easily.

But they didn’t take the food away. Lauritz got his full meal or three each day, and he showed the signs of someone who had needed it. His colouring improved, less of a pasty paleness to his cheeks. His movements got more steady and less exhausted, and the shadows under his eyes faded a little each day. They had no idea what had been going on before he came here – even he didn’t, of course – but it was both satisfying and dissatisfying to see him recovering at their hand.

Why, why were they the ones who had to do this? Couldn’t he have gone somewhere else, to one of his criminal friends?

There had to be a reason he was here. They couldn’t trust him until they had found out what it was.

Kala had tried interrogating him, and he had the bruises to show for it, but he hadn’t given her anything but desperate pleading. Rain had questioned him too, more sedately, with long, slow pressure increasing like the crank of a medieval rack. Again, he’d had nothing. Apologies in droves, but no useful words came out of him. Nothing but a brief murmur about an orange lunch box, which was unlikely to be anything.

He was frustrating. Rain felt it like a sting.

Kala felt it like an open flame climbing up her spine.

-

Her face burned. Her arms were liquid pain. The rope around her wrists, tying her to the pillar, chafed the skin until it was raw. Kala hated this, hated every second of it, with a ferocity that only made her helplessness bite worse.

The bastard was in with Rain right now, in the other room, the one where he had the chain looped around the ceiling. They were alone with him. Kala couldn’t do a thing to help.

She would kill him one day, she swore to herself. She would kill him. There was nothing he could do to stop her. She’d get out, get fit, get strong, and learn to fight. She’d track him down, or ask Rain to do it, they were smart like that, and then she’d put a knife through him. Or smash a baseball bat against his skull. Or choke him to death.

The imaginings of what she could one day do for revenge were her anchors, her burning candlelight in a cold and dark-lit room. She would kill him. It sustained her, while he had all the control.

-

He was scared of her. Good. He should be.

Kala closed the hatch, even knowing that Rain was out on the beach. They might come back early. They probably wouldn’t like her doing this, or at the very least would want to know why. She didn’t feel like explaining.

She had a knife. She'd bought one a while ago, ostensibly a hunting knife. It would have been a hunt. She would have used it on him, gutted him, if she’d had the chance.

Now he was here and she had the knife, and she wasn’t going to kill him because Rain would never forgive her, but she was at least going to make him understand. Years ago he had made her feel like a piece of shit. Like a worthless stain on the world, scum at the surface of the ocean. He’d almost destroyed her, and he didn’t get to pretend that it never happened.

He watched her walk towards  him, staying on the ground, arms against his chest. He always sat like that, as though he were trying to protect himself from her, but she didn’t care for his tricks. He couldn’t guilt trip her like that, no. She was going to make him understand. Make him hurt, how he had hurt her, and then maybe...

Maybe she’d feel better.

Kala was wearing a long-sleeved black top with a lace neckline, and black loose trousers. Her lipstick was black as well today, as was the smoke and shadow around her eyes. She felt raw, black and bitter, despair tainted with rage. When she crouched opposite him, he watched with wide eyes, and she pulled up her sleeve and showed him.

He paled. Up and down her arm were short slashes, an erratic pattern that overlapped and repeated enough that she looked like the leaves from a motherfucking pine tree. Like the forest floor in autumn, when all the needles were shed and grown again for winter. Like a fucking carpet.

There was no skin unscarred from wrist to elbow. He’d gone over it again and again, and she’d been lucky he’d picked her left arm and not her right.

“You deserve that and more,” she told him, voice hard. “I’d slit your fucking throat if I could.”

She didn’t pause for him to reply, not wanting him to offer a stupid apology or a protest that he didn’t understand. He was still Lauritz fucking Nielson, no matter what he said. He still deserved this. She would still give it to him.

She pulled him forwards by the shoulder and bent him over his knees, revealing the arms still bound behind him, just as hers had been. The cable was chafing. Good.

With the knife, barely knowing what she was dong, she cut into his forearm, a short horizontal line. Then, she added a vertical line.

Blood welled up surprisingly fast, blurring the marks she had made. She moved further up, away from the wrist which would soon be slick and stinging with blood. She made another slash, diagonal, and a line crossing it, and a line at its end, and another stretching up, and one up, and one up, changing direction each time like she was crossing out invisible words on his skin.

Fucker. Sadist. Criminal. Bastard. Asshole. Monster. Piece of shit.

He deserved this and more.

Lauritz didn’t make a sound as it happened except to quicken his breathing, harsher and faster in his nose. He didn’t pull back, just lowered his head. No fight in him. Pathetic. Even Rain had fought, when it had been their turn, struggled and begged and affirmed that they didn’t deserve it. They had both fought. Lauritz didn’t even do that.

When she ran out of space, and the arm was covered in short slices, she had to stop. She pulled back, letting him go, and he sniffled. He was crying. Jesus fucking Christ, he was crying. That was just pathetic.

“What?” she asked, tone sharp. “What? What are you crying about? You deserve that, you know.”

He nodded slowly. “Just... hurts,” he croaked, in that weird barely-there voice he had sometimes, like he hadn’t spoken in months.

“Well now you fucking know how I feel,” Kala said, and groaned. “They’re only surface scratches, you’ll be fine.”

He didn’t reply, staring at the floor. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Her stomach turned. “Don’t fucking say that. You deserve it, just take it.”

“...Okay.”

God, he was the worst. He took the satisfaction even out of this. Kala got up, sighing, and left him to it. He would have to figure out how to stop the bleeding himself.

-

When Rain came home, they could tell something had happened. Kala was grumpy and quiet, and the ladder was down but the hatch was closed. Something had happened with Lauritz.

Making a cup of tea to warm themself up from the sea breeze, they noticed her knife on the beech counter beside the sink.

That answered that question.

“You should go bandage him,” they said, passing Kala in the hall. “I don’t fancy renting a boat to ditch his body in the ocean.”

Kala half-turned, frowning, mouth opening to object, but Rain was already heading up the stairs, tea balanced without spilling a drop. Her mouth closed again and she made a grumbling noise. Rain smiled privately as they entered their bedroom and put the tea down on their desk. After a moment’s pause, they reached into their pocket and withdrew the latest piece of sea glass they had picked up, a pale blue like the summer sky. With a clink, they placed it into the bowl that held their collection. They would clean it later.

Kala went up the ladder a few minutes later. Rain had left their door open, and Kala left the hatch open, so they could hear her moving around. Lauritz didn’t speak while she was there, it seemed, except to occasionally apologise as she cleaned him up. There must be a lot of blood for her to do that much scrubbing.

Then the sound of bandages being snipped. “This’ll hurt like a motherfucker,” Kala muttered. “You’ll forget it’s more than one. Serves you fucking right.”

Ah. Rain’s stomach flipped. Suddenly, they knew exactly what Kala had done to him.

She still couldn’t feel much on that skin. She complained of it itching on dry days, sore when she stretched or showered. But it had scarred so much because it had gone untreated, gotten infected in that dingy abandoned house. With Lauritz bandaged, he wouldn’t suffer so greatly.

Rain looked down at the white and blue sea glass in their china bowl. Somehow, it felt wrong for Lauritz to be harmed less than Kala by the same thing. He had caused all of Kala’s pain. Now, he was only experiencing a small portion of it himself.

But what was the alternative? Doing exactly what he’d done?

Would they be just as bad as him?

No, it was different. They weren’t holding him captive.

But they were. He was tied up in the attic.

But they weren’t torturing him.

But they were. Kala had.

They weren’t sadists...

Were they?

Hadn’t Rain pushed at his broken bone just for the feeling of power over someone who had hurt them before?

What, exactly, was different about how they were treating him?

[giingers]

Can I have 49 from the prompt list for Tommy please ?

Hope you like it! 

49. "Who hurt you?"

The night air was crisp and chill and your body shook with a round of desperate shivers as you stumbled along the cobbled road. The searing pain in your lip was brutal and sharp, and the thick red blood spilled down your chin and stained your ivory blouse.

But number 6 loomed up in the distance and your feet picked up quicker as you made your way towards it. Your hand shook as it feebly pounded on the door, but eventually after another few knocks it was thrown open.

"Polly, thank god" you breathed out, taking in the woman's shocked expression at your tattered appearance.

"Y/n! What the fuck happened?" she exclaimed as she ushered you in the door with a hand slung over your shoulder.

Inside the house was illuminated by the glow of the roaring fire, and you shivered delightfully when Polly sat you down on a chair beside it. Her dark eyes were alight with motherly concern, and in them swirled a thousand questions as she traced your cut lip and bruised face. She knelt down in a flurry of silk and beads and a cool hand was placed on your face; her placid skin easing the throb in your cheek.

"I was coming out of work, it was my turn to lock up tonight and all of a sudden two men came out of nowhere........" you winced a little when her fingers pressed gently against the plump bruise on the left side of your face. She was up in an instant then, busying herself fetching a washcloth and a bowl of warm water and you continued to relay your ordeal to her in a shaky voice.

"Why the fuck do men think they can do something like this to a defenseless woman?" she raged, bringing up a chair and sitting across from you. She wrung out the cloth and started to carefully dab your bleeding lip.

"They wanted money, but I didn't have anything. I wasn't even carrying a purse" you told her with a deep sigh.

"So they hit you?" Polly fumed, once again wringing out the cloth but this time the water stained crimson as the blood dripped from the stained cotton into the bowl.

"They got a bit rough alright" you grimaced to her "but I cut one with my hair pin across the face so I gave as good as I got"

"Good girl" Polly remarked, a proud glint in her eyes "we need to tell the boys, no one messes with us"

"No! No, Polly we can't tell the boys. They'll overreact just like always and then there'll be more trouble" you told her, placing a hand on top of hers and giving it a desperate squeeze.

"You think they won't notice you have a shiner right across your face?" she scoffed, standing up to dump the bloody rags in the sink.

"I fell, alright? I'm clumsy enough anyway that it's believable" you told her with a shrug "I don't need Tommy, or Arthur or John running around Birmingham beating men senseless for me"

"That's what they've always done, you know that" Polly turned back to look at you and you sighed, absently tracing the bruise on your face.

"I know, but when we can avoid it we should" you told her "just please don't say anything to Tommy"

"Alright" Polly agreed after moment, a stern flicker in her eyes and a set look to her jaw "we won't breathe a word of this to Tommy or the boys. You fell down the stairs at work, eh?"

You nodded your head in agreement, and offered her a smile of partnered comradery. You knew Polly thought of you as her own child, and if you asked her to promise you something you knew she'd never break it. You could see the truth in her eyes; she would not tell Tommy, but the skulking teenager that had been listening behind the door had not made you such a promise.

-----------

The door slammed against the wall as it was ripped open and you jumped from where you sat at the table with Polly. She had made you a pot of tea and as she abruptly stood up it nearly knocked itself over. She stood alert and ready as the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, but as three dark figures walked into the room she relaxed.

"What the fuck happened! Tell me everything!" Tommy Shelby demanded as he sought you out, his crystal eyes landing on your shocked frame that sat motionless in the chair. He made his way towards you then and kneeled down in front of you, his cool hands cupping your battered face gently.

You had looked in the mirror after Polly had cleaned you up and the cut on your lip was a thin red line that was now clotting over with a scab. The bruise on your cheek that had blossomed after being hit was a deep crimson and plum colour, but it didn't look as horrific as you had thought. But the way that Tommy looked at you now, eyes wide and mouth set with anger made you believe that your injuries were worse than they really were.

"Who hurt you?" your husband asked you, fingers pushing your hair behind your ears as he eyed you softly.

"Nobody. I fell down the stairs at work" you told him, your voice feeble and as you looked behind him you saw Arthur and John standing stoically behind their brother. Hiding behind them was thirteen year old Finn. He looked at you sheepishly and apologetically and you sighed heavily when you realised what must have happened, and Tommy's next words confirmed your suspicions.

"Y/n, who was it? It wasn't the stairs, alright? Finn told me everything, he ran all the way to the Garrison to tell me" Tommy told you softly, his hands continuing to stroke your face. He was gentle when he wanted to be, and only ever seemed to reserve his rare kindness for you.

"I'm sorry, y/n. I thought Tommy should know" Finn explained himself, voice shaky and cheeks reddening "You're one of us, and nobody messes with us"

"Fucking right, Finn boy" John chimed in "You're our sister, we protect our family"

"Please don't do anything about it, it was just a misunderstanding alright? They were just looking for money" you explained, your eyes once again returning to Tommy's face. He stood up then, a trembling hand reaching into his black coat to produce a cigarette that he lit promptly. He brought it to his mouth and took a few drags before handing it to you.

You didn't usually smoke unless the situation called for a nicotine lull, and this situation certainly did. You took it from him gratefully and brought it to your cut lips.

"Did you see who it was?" Tommy asked you, eyes boring down at you inquisitively. You shook your head at him, taking another drag from the cigarette and handing it back to him.

"I'd never seen them before, but they were young, about John's age I'd say. One was rather tall and the other had a cap on so I didn't see his face. I cut the tall one with the hair pin you gave me. Right across his face" you told him, your hand pulling out the long hair pin from your loose bun. Tommy had given it to you for your birthday for protection. The men had their hidden razor blades in their peaky caps, and you had your hair pin.

"Alright, John, Arthur I want you to go back to the Garrison and round up every Blinder. I want them to split up and find these bastards" Tommy pointed to his brothers, and while John nodded readily it was Arthur who hesitated.

"How will we find them? Y/n said she didn't know who they were, how will we?" he said.

"This is my fucking wife! Nobody touches my wife! I want these bastards found, alright? One has a cut on their face and I'm sure the other one will be close by" Tommy ordered them "now fucking go!"

With that Arthur and John filed out of the room and before following them, Tommy turned to look at you.

"I'll be back shortly, love" he told you, kneeling down once more to look at you "you stay here with Polly and I'll be back for you"

"Tommy please don't do this, you don't have to protect me all the time" you told him with a frown, a hand coming to trace his lovely face. He frowned a little too, but there was a murderous glint at the back of his eyes that was snaking its way to the surface.

"Yes, I do. It's my job" Tommy told you, leaning in to gently kiss your lips. He stood up then, taking his cap out from his pocket and shifting it on to his head.

"Look after her, Pol" Tommy said to his Aunt who was standing by the fire with her arms folded.

"Always do, Tommy" she answered with as she watched him go out the door, and then when his shadow was gone she turned to you.

"Men will be the cause of the world's end" she muttered bitterly and you couldn't help but chuckle a little, but then you sighed when you thought of the trouble they were going to cause in Birmingham this night.

"I don't doubt that, Pol" you told her, picking up your tea cup and taking a swig of the warm liquid.

"They'll be alright, y/n. Don't you worry" she told you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving you a squeeze. You knew she was right of course, your dysfunctional family always managed to pull out of any terrible situations they ended up in. But those two men that had attacked you? You really couldn't say the same for them.