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Little Hands | Ivar Lothbrok

Tagging: @heathen-army


Words: 2000+

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Rating: Teen 

Warnings: Swearing, childbirth, pregnancy, breastfeeding 


If Ivar could walk, he would be pacing to wear a hole in the floor; you were sure of it. He sat next to you on your shared bed, one hand on the top of your swollen stomach and the other clasped firmly around your own. You watched the worry etch into his pale features, his fingers grasping yours so tightly they were beginning to go numb. You brought your free hand to his face, gently smoothing the wrinkles that had settled in above his brow with your thumb.

“Ivar, my dear husband, will you please relax?” He scoffed but loosened his death grip on your fingers to allow you some relief. You sighed as he possessively rubbed over your stomach as if trying to calm the small child inside with just his touch. You had been feeling the tightening of your womb for several days but early this morning your waters had broken, throwing Ivar into a fit of worry and anguish.

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Welcome Home

Ivar x Reader

this is not healthy, I need someone like ivar ASAP

Originally posted by dailyalexhogh

You stood at the port, watching the docking ships nervously. He was strong, the strongest man you ever knew. He had to come back, but you were still scared. Valhalla could wait, all you wanted at the moment was to be in Ivar’s arms again. 
“ Mommy! Mommy! Is dad coming back? ” 
“ Why are they taking so long?!” 
Your two sons whined, the toddlers tugging at your skirts and mumbling excitedly. They usually were very respectful and almost never complained, but not seeing their father for so long took quite a toll on them . You threaded your fingers through their hair, patting their heads in hopes to calm them down. The past 10 months had honestly been a nightmare. You had never been separated for so long, and you were almost twitching with the need to join him to battle. You missed everything about him, being able to hold him, play with his hair, your late night conversations and even pissing him off sounded better than not seeing him at all.

You saw him then. He had just been lifted off of the boat, and was now making his way towards you, limping and trying to maintain his balance on the crutches – not accustomed to being back on land after dialing for so long.  You couldn’t help but run towards him. He had dropped his crutches and moved to bear hug you.

“Ivar!” You yelled, pushing him off you with all your strength as your instincts kicked in, immediately curling up around the small body that was hidden in your scarf. You both landed on the floor, grunting a little at the impact.

He was shocked, confused and beyond angry at your rejection. Had you stopped loving him? Had you finally realized that you could find better? “What the hell woman? Are you out of your mind?! What -” His eyes were ablaze and he growled at you, crawling towards you.

“Ivar,” you breathed out, smiling up at him brightly. You took the small baby that hung close to your torso, pulling the scarf so that you could see its face. “This is Eerika.”

His eyes widened and he immediately quieted down, looking at the small creature you held in your arms. He was entranced – it was the definition of beauty. It had his bright blue eyes, with your amazing facial structure.

“H-how, w-when, I ” He stuttered, trying to form a coherent thought. He reached to her tentatively, stroking her soft face gently with the back of his fingers. The little girl grabbed onto his hand, holding it close to her in curiosity.

Ivar’s eyes started watering at the sight. She was so small, so fragile and so beautiful.

Your sons, who had stared in confusion but had now managed to catch up to you two with their tiny steps. “DADDDD!” They yelled out, tumbling over the both of you. They jumped on his back, one of them already having grabbed onto Ivar’s neck and hung across his back. Ivar leant in, making sure that they would not hurt the most beautiful little girl he had ever seen. Your oldest son laughed, “Don’t worry dad, I will do anything to protect my sister! We won’t be the ones hurting her!”

You shook your head, laughing along with him, both you and Ivar’s hearts swelling with pride.

“Welcome home.” You whispered, leaning to kiss him on the lips as a chorus of soft “ewws” was heard.

#342 [Seth Rollins]

Requested, #342, “Excuse me, I have to go make a scene.” - he’s with the whole Triple H feud, you’re also a diva so you just walk out to the ring defending Seth & you break kayfabe (Prompt from here.)

@superkixbaybay @hiitsmecharlie @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @valeonmars @pjanina13 @spot-of-bother @bolieve-that @m-a-t-91 @chasingeverybreakingwave @heelturn-timesten @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @ratherkissawookiee @imaginingwwesuperstars @running-ropes @wrestlingnoob @alexahood21

“See you at the arena?”

“Yep.” You accepted your boyfriend’s kiss, and then watched him walk out of your shared hotel room, luggage trailing behind him.

Returning to your own packing, you glanced out the window trying to determine if you needed any type of jacket over your dress or not. Deciding to take the risk, you packed away all your items, and after confirming nothing was getting forgotten, left the room. You headed down to the lobby, where Charlotte was sitting in a chair, scrolling on her phone, her own luggage around her.

“Hey chica,” you greeted her, gaining her attention.

“Hello my love! Ready?”

“Let’s go,” you confirmed, as she stood up and got her things organized to leave.

“Seth already leave?”

“He did. Few minutes ago.”

“Ya know, I could always just third wheel it? Makes it easier.”

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Yes, folks, I’m going back to this universe for part 2, and it picks up about three minutes after the last one ended … 

the original ‘Life’ series (as I ended up calling in on AO3) can be found here … 


Recap: Moose and Squirrel are at Mama Scully’s house after a six/seven/whatever week ‘let’s drive around America’ road trip which included broken legs, cancer scares, plenty of cuddling and the occasional bout of liquored up goodness … 


Letting her go after a few minutes, they discovered the lights had mysteriously been turned off in the living room, the space now empty of heckling relatives and encouraging mothers. Mulder, his arms now around her waist, continued to look down at her stocking feet and his cast hovering below until he felt her hand lift his face to hers, “didn’t I say we should keep this quiet for a little bit?”

“Yeah, I tried my best but shit happens.” Knowing she wasn’t mad, he asked anyways, “gonna kill me in my sleep tonight for it?”

“I just might. Now we have to go in there and see all of them staring at us, commenting and winking and nudging and if I know Charlie and Dave, exchanging money as bets are collected.”

With a head wiggled and a glinting eye, “we could always just sneak out. Go back to your place/my place/I don’t care where place and climb into bed and let me kiss on you some more until you absolutely can’t stand it anymore and insist on having sex with me.”

Oh, the thoughts, oh, the ideas, oh, the quaint, little, spasmodic head-nodding she did in agreement with each and every one of his previous statements. Kissing her chin once she stopped her emphatic agreement, Mulder suddenly yelled over her shoulder towards the fairly loud kitchen, “Maggie, we’re leaving. Thanks for dinner. Shut up, Dave. Get your mind out of the gutter, Charlie!”

“But it seems appropriate!”

“Only your brother, Scully, would yell that in front of your mother.”

Maggie came down the hall, turning the lights back on as she walked, “get yourselves in the kitchen and eat your dessert. The ice cream’s nearly melted and you can wait another 20 minutes to leave.” Giving them a knowing smile, “I assume 20 minutes will not, in fact, kill you, correct?”

Mulder, returning her grin, shrugged but didn’t let go of Scully, “for you, Maggie, 25.”

Scully followed Mulder, who followed Maggie, entering the kitchen to find pie and spoons and sticky children and Charlie counting a wad of bills. As she walked by, Scully neatly snatched the handful from her brother, “thank you very much.”

Attempting to swipe the cash back, Charlie fell off the chair and nearly took out Mulder in the process, the chair skittering across and smacking Maggie in the shins. Immediately she held up her hands, “stop! Everybody! Now!”

Two children had spoons on the way to their mouths and Charlie remained sprawled on the floor. Scully had her hand inconveniently on Mulder’s butt, her hand wrapped in and around his pants pocket in a stupidly useless gesture of assistance but it didn’t help and his teetering turned to crashing, directly on top of Charlie.

“Oh … God …” came the muffled response of the large man below Mulder, “you are not … as light … as I figured … you’d be … Holy God, get … off … of … me!” He was laughing as he said it, however, and waited until someone helped Mulder off him instead of the brotherly response of shoving and pushing to get free.

Joanna and Dave got him standing and while he tottered, Wes, the six-year-old, began laughing, pointing towards Mulder’s backside, “you have on Superman underwear!”

Scully finally woke up to the chaos and realized she was holding Mulder’s pocket in her hand and a large flap of material now revealed Mulder’s undergarment of choice.

Mulder’s hand felt his now air-conditioned shorts and nodding his head, “thank God they weren’t my Spider-Girl ones ‘cause those would have been embarrassing.”


Eventually, somehow, nearly intact and miraculously unhurt, both were back in the car, Scully not speaking until they were around the corner, down the street and next to a darkened spot. Turning off the car, she put her head back against the seat, “good Lord, we really should have just stayed at the cottage another day.”

“Why? You didn’t enjoy making out on the stairs while every cheered us on then collecting $125 bucks from your brother whom I then attempted to squash into oblivion before my pants ripped all to hell revealing my oh-so-super sexy Superman underwear because, let me tell you, I sure did.” The faint light from the full moon and the distant streetlights made his teeth shine as he grinned, “you realize if you can actually get me up to my apartment or yours unscathed, it will be one of those miracles you Catholic people are always raving about.”

“You realize if we actually attempted any kind of sex tonight, there’s a good chance it would kill you.”

It began with a chuckle, which inevitably moved to snorting giggles and finally, full-on, window steaming laughter the likes of which shook the car. After wiping tears and blowing noses, Scully’s hiccupping squeaks subsided and he looked over at her, eyes dancing, “but it would be the best way to go.”

Another brief paroxysm overtook them but finally under control, Scully started the car again, “I say your place. It’s closer and there’s an elevator.”

“Home, James.”


Finally, finally, finally parking, climbing, swinging, riding, waiting, unlocking, entering and closing, Scully dropped the two main bags she was carrying, “I have never been so glad to see this place and given you probably forgot to empty the fridge before you left, that’s saying something.”

Resting on his crutches, he beckoned her over to him, wrapping his arms around her as best he could, leaning into her, nose nuzzled in her hair, “thank you for getting me home. I love you very much for it.”

Voice muffled against him, “I just didn’t want to have to deal with funeral arrangements.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Standing silent for a few moments, Scully pulled back, “we need some sleep. You want to shower now or in the morning?”

“Depends when I can get some company.”

“Morning has a lot better outlook for that.”

“Then bed it is.” Letting her go long enough to hobble to the mattress, he propped his crutches, dropped his pants and, after his now-routine struggle to free his cast from his shorts, he flopped back on to the mattress, wrinkling his nose immediately, “I totally didn’t change the sheets before I left either.”

“Are they crunchy?”

“Like a stale bag of potato chips.”


An hour later, they had put on fresh sheets, cleaned out the fridge, taken out the trash, opened all the windows to air the place out and probably woke up the entire building clearing the air from the pipes. Finally, dropping back into bed, Mulder took all of 30 seconds to fall fast asleep, snoring lightly into the now clean-smelling air while Scully, having passed that crucial and all-important threshold from ‘must sleep now’ to ‘shit, I’m going to be awake the rest of the night’, was counting sheep, singing songs in her head, and staring at several cracks in Mulder’s ceiling.

She contemplated, hesitated, debated on just how to proceed next.

She found herself shutting her brain off and sliding her leg over Mulder’s, then her arm, then ignoring the fact that it was nearly midnight, she slid herself up and onto her partner, legs straddling, body upright, shirt tugged over her head as she settled onto his hips.

Inching her hands below his shirt and up his chest, she was half-leaned over, mouth open to whisper him awake …

And he rolled over, knocking her off-balance and onto the floor, a near silent thud announcing her landing to no one except herself because Mulder just kept on snoring, hand now off the mattress, fingers dangling. Reaching up, she slid her shirt from under his arm and pulling it back on, climbed off the floor, deciding a night cruising the couch wouldn’t be such a bad thing, given at least she wouldn’t have to stare at the weird shaped cracks in Mulder’s bedroom ceiling.

It wasn’t long before she heard the tell-tale creak of metal crutches and the soft shuffle, heavy thump tread of sleepy Mulder wandering his way towards her. Looking up from her channel surfing, she smiled, her face glowing blue from both fish tank and television, “hi there. How come you’re awake?”

Not answering until he stood beside her, resting his crutches on the wall, “no idea. I couldn’t find you in bed and thought maybe you were taking a midnight stroll by the ocean and then I realized we weren’t by the ocean but I was already up so I figured …” He ran out of steam and sat down, “I miss the waves. Can we go back? I’ve had enough of this place for awhile.”

Curling against him immediately, she tucked her feet under her, settling in for a comfortable nap, “we’ve been back for six hours.”

“Exactly. Enough of this nonsense. Let’s go back. I want to wake up with you in the big ol’ bed and all the windows and eat M&Ms until we do something drastic like take a nap or go swimming.”



“This is going to be good.”

Collaring her for a moment, he spoke into the top of her head, warm breath ruffling her flyaway hairs, “yeah, it is.”

Crash into Me (Ch.6)

(Juice x OC Janna)

Special thanks to my girls @juiceboxxortiz & @chaosmieu for the incredible support on this!!

Originally posted by stilinski-ortiz

The next weeks they would get up and go to work where Janna continued to work well with everyone. Juice kept up with Gemma’s paperwork and Janna would work on Juice’s bike. At the end of each day Janna and Juice would go home and where they would continue to fall harder and harder for one another each day.

Everyone began to notice the two growing closer and closer. “Hey man” Jax came into the shop. “So you and Janna?”

Juice chuckled at his friends utter lack of tact. “Yeah me and Janna.” He smiled.

“So things are going good?”

“I guess man. We haven’t really talked about it.”

“Bro it’s been what? Almost 2 months now?”

“Yeah.. don’t say nothin but my foots fine, been fine for 2 weeks. I just…”

“You don’t want her to go.” Jax finished for him. Juice nodded Jax wanted to help ‘Shit what would Chibs say?’ Their Scottish brother with all the answers was gone on a run to meet with the Irish and Jax was lost… or was he. “Hold up.” And he ran out of the office. Returning a few moments later with the only other man that had any advice worth listening to.

“What the shit boy?” Bobby grumbled.

“Tell him.” Jax said to a very thrown off Juice. “Go ahead.” He prompted.

Jax gave up and filled Bobby in on what was happening. Bobby siged and looked over at their youngest member. “You gotta tell her Juice. And I don’t just mean that you want her to stay. You gotta give it all to her. How you feel that you want her to stay. And not just that.”

“What do you mean?” He had a feeling he knew but he needed to hear it.

“The club boy. You’ve gotta give it to her straight. You can’t promise sunshine and rainbows but you can promise honesty. This life.. it’s all or it’s nothing.”

Juice shook his head knowing full well that Bobby was right. Hell, Bobby was always right.

Janna had just finished stripping Juice’s bike for paint when she felt a presence behind her. Turing around she saw a man with tattoos from the top of his head all the way to his knuckles. “May I help you?”

“You Janna?” At her nod he flipped the tooth pick in his mouth and stepped forward. “Happy” He introduced himself.

“Oh my God! Hi! Yes! Perfect timing I just finished stripping the bike. Did you need a picture? I found some at the house.” Janna rambled on in a flurry sending the Tacoma killers eyebrows to what would’ve been a hair line if he had hair.

Tig was leaned against his bike giggling like an idiot when Bobby and Jax stepped out of the office where they had left Juice with some serious thinking to do. “Do we even wanna know?” Bobby asked knowing a happy Tig usually mean something unpleasant was happening. Tig just kept laughing and pointed.

Following his finger Jax and Bobby saw that in this case at least, his laughter was brought on by just one person’s misfortune. That person was Happy. “Oh man this is too good.”

They watched on betting how long it would take for Happy’s resolve to break and him to snap at the adorable bubble that was a bouncing Janna chatting his head off.

After thirty minutes of still nothing the guys figured Happy was just tougher than he looked in the patience department and gave up all hope of Janna’s bubble being popped when  they saw Happy nod and Janna squeal with delight giving him a peck on the cheek and skipping off in search of Juice.

“What the hell?” Tig looked to Bobby Jax and the prospect who had walked up.

“Maybe he likes her?” Half-Sack butted in.

“Shut up prospect. Don’t you have shit to clean up?” Tig grumbled.

That night Janna woke up to cold sheets. Sitting up she saw Juice’s crutches still by the bed. She decided to investigate and made her way down the hall where she heard humming. Peeking around the corner she saw Juice walking not limping but walking just fine around the kitchen humming along as he made himself a midnight snack. Slipping away she went quietly back to bed a small smile playing at her lips as she thought of only one reason he’d still be faking injuries.

The next morning Juice came hopping down the hall to the kitchen for breakfast. Janna rolled her eyes at his over exaggeration. “If you’re hungry there’s an omelette on the stove.” She smiled at him.

“Uuhh thanks.” He said using the crutches still Janna laughed watching him try to carry his plate and maintain his “limp”. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” She stated “try just walking.”

“I can’t” He shot back.

“Oh we’re still playing this game. I see.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hmm? Nothing babe.” Janna faked innocence.

Juice sighed dropping his chin to his chest and dropping the crutches and walking over to her. “Oh my God Babe!!! It’s a miracle you can walk!!!”

“Ok ok how long have you known?” He gave in.

“I suspected it for a while if mean the actual bruise has nearly faded and there is no way that you still need the crutches when you’ve been getting up on your own. But I went with it not completely sure. However you ruined it for yourself lastnight.” Juice raised his eyebrows smirking at her break down. “Last night I woke suddenly, and so so cold.” She said sadly for dramatic effect. “Reaching out for my lover slash personal space heater I quickly realized I was alone.” Janna faked wiping away a worried tear. Juice just chuckled. “Suddenly I heard a strange noise from the kitchen. Thinking the worst I bravely made my way down the hall. Expecting the blood of my Puerto Rican boy toy strewn all over the kitchen I braced myself to face a malicious intruder. Only instead I found my bronzed bone machine dancing around the kitchen humming, fixing himself a midnight snack.”

Juice was nearly in tears trying to keep from laughing at her outrageous names for him. “You know what the worst part is?”

“What’s that babe?” He couldn’t wait to hear this.

“You don’t even make me a snack while you were in here.” She faked hurt.

“Oh baby I am so sorry. Please tell me how I could ever make it up to you??” He played along.

“Well.. now that you mention it there is one thing but I don’t think you’d be up for it.”

“No babe tell me. Anything you want name it and I’ll make it happen.”


“Anything.” He promised. That was a mistake because a slow smirk started to spread over Janna’s face.

“Well I have always had a fantasy about being a rich lady with a hot pool boy named Miguel.”

“Looks like I’m gonna have to get us a pool the huh?” He smiled finishing his omelette.

Pulling into work without the crutches and Juice driving the truck. Everyone cheered their friend. “Well looks like you’re back on your feet.” Gemma smiled giving Juice a hug. Completely ignoring Janna in the process. “Does this mean you’re back to work too?”

“Yep I’m good to go.”

“Actually Ma we need Juice. You good to ride man?” Jax cut in.

“Yeah but I don’t have my bike fixed yet.”

“Actually…” Janna said with a smirk, and took off running to the garage.

“You didn’t?” Juice followed her into the garage over to the table. Pulling back the tarp Janna revealed Juice’s fully restored bike. “You did!! Holy shit babe this is amazing!”

As the guys helped get the bike down Gemma watched the group suspiciously. “This looks great. But I need Juice, we have a legitimate business we gotta keep up with here.”

“Ow bout Janna keep fillin in? She’s been doing great so far.” Chibs cut in.

“I really don’t mind Gemma. I’ve…”

“I don’t know.” Gemma cut her off “I haven’t been here and how do I know shes actually any good and not just some hot piece for you all to stare at?”

Janna clenched her fists and took a deep breath.   “Ma she’s really is good it’ll be fine.” Jax assured her. “Juice you’re with Chibs. Ope, you’re with me.“  With that the guys made their way to their bikes. Spotting Tig Jax motioned him closer. “Hey do me a favor?”

“Sure man” Tig said wiping his mouth of the candy bar he’d been snacking on.

“Keep an eye on those two.” He indicated to Janna and Gemma.

“No problem.” He assured him.

A few hours and three cars later Janna was underneath an old Carola working the rusty oil plug loose when Gemma came in the garage. “Tiggy I need you to check the breaks on the Buick. I don’t think it was done right they’re still squealing.”

“No no Janna just did that one.” He complained having done this same thing to the Accord Janna had done earlier and finding nothing wrong.

“That’s why I want you to look at it she probably didn’t do it right.”

“FUCK!!” Tig and Gemma turned to see Janna rolling out from under the Carola, blood pouring from over her eye.

Gemma just looked to Tig with raised eyebrows as if to say ‘See? Incompetent’. 

“Ya know? What is your problem?” Janna asked ignoring the blood dripping down from her eye to her neck and down her chest.

“My problem DARLIN” Gemma said sarcastically. “Is little tarts coming in on my boys and using them.”

“USING HIM?!?” Janna yelled

“Yeah USING him. You come in here from off the streets, spread your legs and now your living with him??”

“I didn’t ask to live with him. I caused the accident so I decided to be a decent human being and help him in any way I could.”

“Well he’s all better now?? You can go.” Gemma crossed her arms over her chest.

“That’s not your decision to make. That’s Juice’s and mine and so far he hasn’t asked me to leave…”

“Well that’s because he’s blinded by easy pussy” Gemma cut her off. “He can’t see you for what you really are..”

“Oh and I suppose you think you do?” Janna cut her back off “Let me guess you think I’m just some stupid whore using Juice for what money??” At Gemmas nod of ‘you said it not me’ Janna growled. “You know what you need to pull your tit out of his mouth and let him be the grown ass man that he is and make his own fucking decision.”

Gemma saw red and grabbed a wrench off the table taking a step towards Janna.

“WHOA WHOA WHOA” Tig grabbed Gemma around the waist pulling her back.

“Let her go!” Janna demanded picking up her own wrench. “I ain’t scared of shit. You wanna do this like some back ally street brawl?? Let’s go bitch!!”

“What the hell is this?” Jax came running up with Opie on his heels.

“Jesus” Opie said pulling the wrench out of Janna’s hand and looking at her eye.

“Shit!” Jax said seeing the blood “Ma you didnt..”

Gemma’s eyes went wide at the accusation and she thew her wrench down storming off to the office slamming the door in her wake.

Just then Juice and Chibs pulled up and Janna groaned. Walking in Juice immediately ran to Janna. “Jesus Christ baby what happend?”

“Gemma hit her in the head with a wrench.” Jax supplied.

“No no no” Tig stopped them “Gemma never hit her.”

“He’s right” Janna backed him up. “I did this on my own.” At their confused looks she explained. “Gemma came out while I was under the car and said somethings and … I don’t know.. I got frustrated and yanked on the socket wrench. It slipped.” She ended sheepishly.

“You hit your own face with a socket wrench?” Juice asked her a smirk playing on her lips.

“Keep up the jokes and we’ll see who’s laughing in the end..” She smirked back and leaned in “Miguel.”

The guys were instantly uncomfortable with their flirtatious attitude in the wake of screaming and blood.

“Come on love.” Chibs jumped in. “Let’s patch you up.”

Once Chibs had Janna patched up Juice insisted on driving Janna home on his bike. “But my truck?” She was nervous about riding the bike.

“We’ll get it tonight.” At her quizzical look he siged. “SAMCRO party tonight. You’re prolly gonna have to drive me home anyway.” He smiled holing up the helmet to her. Janna relented and took the helmet.

“Oh my God that wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought.” She giggled as the pulled up. Juice couldn’t help but join in the infectious smiling.

Watching her smiling in the sunshine shaking her hair out huge grin decorating her face. Juice once again found himself thinking she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of seeing.

“Come here.” He said pulling her in for a heated kiss. At Janna’s moan Juice squeezed her a bit tighter to himself, and let his hands roam.

At the clearing of a throat they jumped apart. “Sorry Mr and Mrs Martin.” Janna giggled as Juice pulled her away from the prying eyes of the elderly couple across the street.

Pulling her into the house Juice backed her up against the door. Feeling his lips trail down her neck and his large warm hands spread over her stomach under her shirt Janna was lost in the feel of him. Suddenly like a freight train rushing through her mind a mocking voice brought her back to reality. ‘He’s blinded by easy pussy’ Gemma’s voice mocked. Echoing through her memory.

Janna froze. “Babe you ok?” Juice asked sensing her tension.

“Hmm yeah.” She assured him giving a small peck of a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you hungry?” She attempted distraction moving around him and into the kitchen. “We should probably eat and then get ready if we’re going tonight.”

Juice followed her curiously “What’s wrong Janna?”

“Nothing.” She sapped

“Bullshit” He called her out.

“What does it matter?” She huffed “I’m leaving anyway.”

“What?!” He was starting to get pissed. “Why the hell would you leave.”

“Look it’s been fun Juice but we knew this was temporary. I help you get better and then … ”

“And then what Janna? You just gonna leave? Seriously?” They stared at eachother unsure of what to say. “I want you to stay.”

“You don’t know what you want Juice.” She wanted to cry. “You’re just blinded by easy pussy.” Janna mumbled ashamed of what she felt was the truth.

“That’s not you…” he started but Janna cut him off.

“How would you know? Huh? We barely know each other it’s been what? A.. a… a month?”

“Two months.” He corrected. “It’s been two months of you and me 24 fucking 7. And you don’t live with and work with and spend every God damn second of every God damn day  with someone and not get to know them enough to know when their words aren’t their own. If any thing you sound like Ge….” he stopped she sounded like Gemma. “What was it you and Gemma were fighting about.”

“Forget it Juice.” She brushed him off.


Tears were slowly starting to fall down her cheeks. But he couldn’t stop the fear of her leaving him manifesting its self into anger. “I HAVE BEEN FAKING BEING MORE HURT THAN I AM FOR THE PAST 3 WEEKS BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT YOU GONE! JESUS CHRIST JANNA I LOVE YOU!”

Janna froze looking into his eyes. ‘Shit!’ He mentally kicked himself. This was not how this was supposed to happen. He ran a frustrated hand down his face and stormed up to her. Grabbing her face he planted a hard kiss to her mouth. ‘Just one more for the road.’ He thought looking into those mesmerizing eyes trying to remember them as best he could before he never saw them again.

Janna looked into his deep dark eyes full of hurt as his jaw ticked wishing it had words to make her stay while his thumbs brushed away tears from her eyes. Then he was gone.

The next thing she realized was the sound of his bike leaving down the road.
The Blood Runs Too Thick
  • MC x Soryu
  • Summary: The ultimate betrayal comes with the ultimate sacrifice to escape. (meant to be a oneshot, but could make more if you want me to!) And here I am w part 2 lol
    Warnings: Gore, Dark, Angst.
    a/n: OMG I wrote something lolol hop you like part two! Sorry I changed the pov of this one to third person but you know WHATEVER I DO THAT ALL THE TIME ANYWAYS 
  • Tags: @nitelotus, @ixypixie, @ladystar0710
  • Check out the tag for this series! This is part two. 
  • Like my writing? Check out my masterpost here!

“She’s there,” Soryu whispered, hand pressed against the glass of the Tokyo station where Khim sat. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched Mamoru question her, her small frame seeming to collapse in on herself as a way to escape. His eyes couldn’t help but wander to her face, so hallow and hurt from years on the run and then down to her left leg. Her left leg, “God dammit,” Soryu chocked, turning around, tears stinging his eyes in frustration and pure anger. He couldn’t believe he let someone do that to her. His own men at that.

He turned back around and went to slam his fist against the glass but only let it hit gently as he stared at her through the glass. Where he leg once was was now replaced with a crappy metal augmentation that someone along her travels probably hooked her up with. The flimsy metal frame that supported just under her left knee looked raw and uncomfortable as he could easily see the rash forming where skin touched raw metal. He cringed, knowing that if he found her, if he was there, maybe she’d still have a leg today. Maybe…they would have had a family by now.

Three years passed since that night and Soryu barely has had a life since that night. That night scared his life and the Dragons. Gyo and five other men turned on Soryu and in a last ditch attempt went for Khim as payback for not making a deal with another organization that they were secretly apart of. His poor choices and his overly trusting attitude with the Dragons costed Khim her leg, her life. He couldn’t live with that.

Mamoru walked out of the room and quickly lit a cig and sighed, “She wouldn’t let me smoke in there with her,” He commented, causing Soryu to give him a strange look. Usually she would have never minded, “Started to get all antsy. I think she’s been tortured before she made her escape,” He finished, eyes locking with Soryu. 

Soryu struggled to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Jesus,” Baba commented, “Just what has she gone through?” 

“I think this runs deeper than just the Ice Dragons,” Mamoru answered, “I think this involves all of us. She wouldn’t tell me much, kept askin’ for Soryu over here. ‘Is he okay? Is he here?’ Was all she’d say,” He said annoyingly, his eyes slowly moving to Soryu to see what he’d do. He remembered when he brought Soryu here, saying that Khim was being held in a room waiting for him, for everyone. He remembered the panic on Soryu’s face, the anxiety in his eyes as he scrambled to follow. 

“Go and talk to her Sor,” Baba said, giving him a friendly pat on the back, “She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t need you.”

He didn’t need a friendly back or Mamoru’s imploring words. He was going in to see her. He took a steady breath and opened the door, breathing in the sight of her. She was still beautiful in all her fear and anger. She kept her hands folded in her lap, head casted down. Her hair was much longer now, reaching her mid back, and she’d lost weight. He mentally reminded himself to have her eat more since she was so thin before.

“Khim,” He called out to her.

Her head snapped up, eyes wide as they locked with his. He wore a kind smile on his face for her, to hide the anger and sadness inside of him. It was like the life came back to her as she tried to stand up on shaky legs to run over to him.

“S-Sor!” She gasped, only getting one step in before Soryu was already there, taking her in his arms, “Sor…Sor…Soryu oh god,” She cried in his chest as he held her close, as close as he could that wasn’t painful to her. She dropped her crutches to the ground, hands mindlessly grasping at his back to grab a fistful of his collared shirt, “You’re okay right?” She kept asking over and over, “I’m okay…you’re okay…” 

He leaned over and placed a kiss to the top of her head, his hands running circles on her back. He paused and gripped her shoulder, pushing her back, “Let me look at you,” He said.

Tears streamed down Khim’s cheeks, a kind smile on her face was nothing like the cold and angry one she had when Mamoru was talking to her. He wiped them with the pads of his thumbs, cupping her cheeks, taking her all in. 

He assumed Mamoru let her shower here, because she smelt faintly like normal soap, but somehow the smell just reminded him of her, of what they were years ago. His eyes carried on down, to her small frame and to her left leg. She reached a hand out and lifted his chin back up, so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore, but he gripped it and looked down, bending down to get a better look. 

“Does it hurt right now?” He asked, not really knowing how she would answer. Did it hurt her when she was tortured in front of Soryu, not saying a word. Or when she was dragged away to somewhere she didn’t know with people who didn’t care about her? Or did the torture hurt her? The pain she suffered for three years? The lack of a leg? Did it hurt? Of course it did, he knew that. But the question just tumbled off his lips.

“The augmentation a friend made for me in a pinch did the trick,” She said, reaching down and running a hand to where metal met skin, “But it hurts if I walk for too long.”

“Luke is making you replacements. He’s coming to check you out,” He said, turning to the oneway window and giving a nod, already knowing that Baba was on the phone with Luke the minute he walked in the room with Khim. 

“Great,” She whispered, “I think it might be infected or something. It never healed properly,” She said, a sad smile on her face. 

“What happened?” He finally asked, moving to sit down on a chair and taking her in his arms so she sat on his lap, “Where did Gyo take you?”

Her expression clouded over and now the cold and sad look on her face came back. She leaned in, arms circling around his neck, her lips next to his ear as she whispered to him, “Have you heard anything?”

He kept a calm expression on his face, his hands moving to rest on her back, moving in small circles like he was consoling her. He knew the angle they were at, and the CCTV wouldn’t catch what she was saying from this angle as she was talking into his ear. He became alert, eyes quickly darting around the room to see if they’d be caught. 

“Gyo’s men have died, the five of them,” He whispered into her shoulder and felt her nod beside him, “And Gyo left Japan.”

“Exactly,” She whispered in his ear, “But theres more to that story than you know,” She said, her slim fingers working their way into his hair, “ They’re lying to you.” She finished. She felt Soryu tense in her arms, not sure of who she was talking about. 

“Who?” He asked, lifting his face a bit from her shoulder so he eyes stared at the one-way mirror in front of him.

“Mamoru isn’t telling the truth,” She said, “He tipped Gyo off that you were getting suspicious about him,” She said, “One of his men told me that….Don’t trust them.”

Soryu waited outside Luke’s office on Khim’s request. He heard her whimper here and there from the procedure Luke was preforming on her with her new leg. He was getting impatient as the seconds passed, leaning agains the wall with his gun clearly in his hand. Eisuke stared back at him, eyes squinting, trying to find any trace of information on his face.

“What did she tell you?” He asked, “Don’t lie to me.”

He knew that Eisuke probably watched the CCTV footage and knew they were talking, but what they said he would never know.

“When you looked up at the window,” Eisuke said, getting Soryu’s attention, “I knew she told you something that pissed you off,” 

Soryu casted a glance to his sides, making sure the hallway was clear before looking back at Eisuke. He pulled out his phone and looked up, wordlessly hanging up in seconds, “Talk,” He demanded, arms folding.

“She…” Soryu began, but stopped. If he already was questioning Mamoru in his mind could he trust Eisuke? Baba? Could he trust Luke?

Before he could continue he barged in Luke’s office out of fear, “Khim…!” He called, seeing her standing in front of him about to open the door herself.

“Ah..!” She yelped, about to stumble backwards, but Soryu reached out and hooked a arm around her waist first, steadying her.

“You’re walking?” He asked, looking down to see a treated wound and a fresh, sleek new left leg. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot easier with this one since I had to practice on the toughest leg for three years.” She commented, making Soryu wince at her blunt honesty. It hurt him knowing she went through that so long and he couldn’t help her.

“Khim,” Eisuke called out, walking into the office. 

She didn’t say anything, only reached out and gripped Soryu’s hand, which caused him to cock his gun knowingly in front of Eisuke and Luke, “This can wait until tomorrow,” Soryu said, reaching to link his arm with Khim’s to give her support, “We’re going to go home for the night. She needs rest.” 

Eisuke scowled at him, “Tomorrow.” He reminded Soryu.

Tomorrow they’d talk, but for now he wanted to take Khim home.

He presses her against the wall the second they are in their old apartment. It reminds Khim of home, of safety, as she grips Soryu’s shirt and drags him down to her level, hungry for a kiss she hasn’t felt in three years. His hands go to cup her face, her once soft cheeks now being hallow, reminding him of what she has gone through. Her hot breath lingers on his lips every second they separate to only try and go deeper. Her name is hot on his tongue, every spare breath he has is left to saying her name, almost as a reminder that she is here and in his arms. 

Her hands ghost down to his sides, unbuttoning his shirt and letting her hands skim over his toned muscles, his skin. She savors the warmth as her arms encircle his waist, pulling herself closer to him. 

They both stop and stare at each other, drinking in the sight. Three years they’ve both been without, suffering in their own way. Soryu couldn’t believe she was alive and in his arms right now.  

He wouldn’t pity her, and until she told him to stop he wouldn’t. 

He lifted her in his arms bridal style and wordlessly carried her to the bedroom. He felt her fidget in his arms in her usual embarrassment until she spoke, “S-Soryu…”

He gently sets her down on the bed, hovering over her, “What’s wrong?” He asks, afraid of what she is about to tell him.

“I’m not the same,” She admits, “My body, it’s––” 

“It’s what?” He asked, annoyed, “It’s the same to me. You’re here, you’re still beautiful” He adds, a kind smile on his face.

She offers him a small smile, “It’s not just my leg,” She says, and moves to remove her shirt, revealing small scars on her torso and chest. Scars from cigarette burns and other deep cuts that were once on her body. He squints at her body in anger for the men who did this to her, “Luke said they can be treated but––” Before she could finish Soryu is already kissing each scar.

“They show how strong you are,” He whispered, slowly moving along her body to kiss each one, “They show how much you struggled, fought. You wanted to come home and knew I was waiting, looking too,” He finished, looking up to see tears in her eyes. 

“I love you,” She sobbed, chocking on her tears, “God, Soryu…!” Her sobs turned into wails as she clung to him. 

And he swore he would never let her go.

“Aftermath” 1/2

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Written for FiKi Week 2017: Inspired by canon

Summary: They survived the battle, but healing isn’t so simple.

Fili tries to suppress a wince that’s caused by a pull along his healing side. He knows it’s a futile attempt when Kili is suddenly in front of him instead of beside. His brother’s face is set in a deep scowl that has been a constant presence for weeks. The shadows that have been lurking within his remaining eye have started bleeding out to form a dark circle beneath it. Those shadows shift in the dancing light of Fili’s torch.

Despite that scowl, he looks haunted and faded. Fili has not pressed, but Kili has refused to share his burden and has kept his ghosts to himself.

Fili misses the grin that rivaled the sun in both radiance and warmth and the contagious laugh that had never failed to brighten Fili’s day. He’s beginning to forget the sight and sound; he’s afraid he’s losing his brother even though Kili still breathes.

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Long post. Hit J on your dash to skip.

(1/3) Ficlet prompt fill for @oddlyexquisite, who picked museum, exhalation, glasses. I was a little loose with it…

I’ve been skewing pretty hard into self-indulgent angst recently. This sort of scene has been done to death and back (and for good reason), so now it’s my turn! Written to this and this, played at the same time.

Theed’s Holy of Holies lies on the outskirts of the palace grounds–a memorial grove filled with sacred, glass-petaled chime trees. One for each life come and gone. A museum for Naboo’s noble dead that lives and breathes, thriving atop ashes and inhumations alike.

The air is clear, still, and tastes clean—it had been grey for so long, thick and greasy with ash as the city’s funeral pyres burned for a week straight. It’s quiet here now, and the place is nearly empty of mourners for the first time in days. The tree Obi-Wan stands beneath is young, the dark soil at its base is freshly packed around a slab of white marble inscribed with only a name.

Chime trees are rare and exquisitely beautiful, but that’s not why they’re held sacred.

Obi-Wan cups his hands and leans in close to the nearest, low branch. He blows gently in one soft, sustained exhalation—and the heat of his breath alone is enough to set the brittle, blush-colored fronds into motion. One leaf quivers, begins to spin in slow, lazy circles, clinking against its neighbors until they, too, take up movement in a ghostly chain reaction. Along slender twigs and branches, spreading up and outward through the lush, vitreous-pink crown, the chime tree shivers into life—and it sings.

The tree sings to him with the beautiful, catastrophic dissonance of a hundred thousand tiny, shattering glasses. 

It’s a basic matter of thermal physics–a calculation of heat flux and temperature difference and transfer coefficients that, on Naboo, simply translates into the breath of one becomes the breath of all. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and listens, silent and reverential. It’s a sound he hopes to hear in his dreams tonight, instead of the bone-shaking vibrations of Theed’s power generator.

Eventually, off to his right, the grass stirs in time with the halting shuffle-thump gait he supposes he’ll just have to relearn now.

Obi-Wan looks up quickly, out of the corner of his eye. Just long enough to see that the newcomer looks like a scraggly, dead tree that looms grossly out of place here. He’s immediately disgusted with himself for the intrusive thought. “You shouldn’t be walking yet,” the young knight calls out. “And certainly not alone.”

Qui-Gon comes to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him, leaning heavily on the forearm crutch in his left hand. “I’m not,” he says mildly, indicating with a tip of his head. At the far edge of the grove, his companion med-droid—its vocal unit muffled with medical tape—lurches off to one side, vegetative. Its disassembled power unit dangles out the back.

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes, because even the lingering trauma of battle is no match for his inborn sense of propriety. “Don’t be troublesome, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiles, placid. “Far too late for that, my young apprentice.”

It’s an easy, slip-of-the-tongue endearment, and it hits Obi-Wan like a crack across the face. He nudges his toe into the overturned dirt at the base of the tree, silent for a long moment. The elder Jedi gives him space for his thoughts, expectant but unhurried.

“This one was your grave,” Obi-Wan finally says. “Gifted to you from the royal house of Naboo, for an honorable death in its service.”

Qui-Gon shifts on his feet, nods once in understanding, and pulls his robe tighter around his body. He breathes in deeply, for the sake of tasting the sweet, fresh air after weeks in the medbay—and then breathes out slowly to diffuse the resultant working-pain of his mangled lung. He digs his toes into the grass. “I wouldn’t mind dying in a place like this.”

Obi-Wan flinches. “Please don’t say that.”

There’s a tiny ignition of worry from Qui-Gon, and the feeling curls like smoke between them in the Force. It’s the Master’s turn for silence. Slowly, palpably, he begins to realize that he’s come upon something much different than a man paying his respects to Theed’s fallen. That smiling and attendant and Congratulations, Knight Kenobi, you have done well have nothing to do with being well. 

“Forgive me.”

Obi-Wan huffs out a strange, short laugh and braces himself against the tree, nearly brought low by two words for a poor turn of phrase. He fears, briefly and madly, that he’ll lose himself and sink to his knees entirely, never to get up again. But, no—the Force would never be so cruel, he thinks, to require the sort of balance where he must fall so that Qui-Gon Jinn may stand.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon pleads softly. “Padawan. Look at me.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t. “A resting place here is an honor afforded to very few,” he explains softly, then smooths his fingertips over the tree’s peeling, snowy-white bark. “There was no shortage of those upon which to bestow it.” He shakes his head to clear it, then pushes himself upright. “The space didn’t go to waste. It belongs to Yané now.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Because he’s not the man’s padawan anymore, and because he already knows what he’ll see—Qui-Gon, thin-thin-thin, grey-faced and stooped with exhaustion and newfound chronic pain. His beard is scraggly and his hair is down because he doesn’t have the mobility or dexterity fix it himself anymore. Beneath his Jedi robe he’s still wearing his med-tunics, and very likely the flimsy, blue slippers that look spitefully comical on a man of his rank and manner. It’s wrong, and it’s too much for Obi-Wan to bear in this of all places.

He’s too tired, too worn down for anything than a graceless deflection. “I’m really quite alright.”

Qui-Gon exhorts him the only way he knows will work. “Then do it for my sake.”

Obi-Wan is so new to knighthood that he can’t disobey a direct request like that. He stiffly folds his arms into his sleeves and turns to face the older man. Neutral. Obedient. Composed. He doesn’t resist when Qui-Gon takes his face between those large, thin hands and tips it up, stroking his thumb over the tiny mole on his right cheekbone.

The lines of Qui-Gon’s face are filled with sadness as he gazes downward. “You’re allowed to grieve, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan is staring at his chin, stubborn and tight-jawed. “For what? My braid?”

The joke is frail and bitter, a last-ditch effort to avert the terrible self-revelation Qui-Gon has backed him in to. It only makes the moment worse, and Obi-Wan seems to realize that just after the words leave his mouth. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard.

Qui-Gon shakes his head and his expression sinks deeper into heartbreak. “For anything you need to, padawan.”

When he finally raises his eyes to meet Qui-Gon’s, the spiderweb-fractures inside Obi-Wan give way. He shatters, and what’s exposed within him is not so much grief as it is desolation. A bleak and scoured chasm that had once been home to the kinder pieces of Qui-Gon Jinn—the ones which Obi-Wan had fought and scraped so hard for, for so long, and tucked away so carefully.

All of it wasted wholesale by a Sith, a slave child, and a short-sighted old fool.

This quiet, black emptiness is enough to undo him, too. Qui-Gon would willingly, stoically abide the weight of his own wounds, but he’ll never, never allow the same of his padawan. He drops his crutch and doesn’t embrace Obi-Wan so much as subsume him. He pulls the young knight into the protective, wiry frame of his own body, wraps him up in the warm depths of his robe. “Oh, my Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon whispers down into soft, auburn hair. “I’m here. I’m still here. I haven’t left you.”

Padawan, Padawan, Padawan… he’ll say it over and over, he thinks, and keep them locked in this place until that hollowed-out space within Obi-Wan is full again.

Obi-Wan bumps his forehead into Qui-Gon’s chest, blinks and stares down at his master’s ridiculous, knobby toes poking out of their thin, too-small shoes. “Your feet…” he whispers, overcome but dry-eyed, into the folds of brown cloth.

The wind picks up around them, bolstering the dying notes of Obi-Wan’s breath in the branches high above, setting the chime tree into motion anew. Qui-Gon smooths his hand up and down the back of Obi-Wan’s bent head, picks a frail, glassy leaf out of his hair. “They’re just slippers. Nothing more,” he murmurs, “nothing more.”

~Unlovable Chapter 5~

Chapter 5/5

I so apperently have been embedding the links all wrong so I’m not gonna do that on this chapter. Just search through my unlovable tag and you can find the other chapters!

I hope you enjoy the last chapter, and be sure to tell me how you liked it!!


“Hey, Crutch, you in here?” Jack asked before his eyes landed on the figure curled against the wall in tears.

Jack quickly walked over and bent down next to Crutchie, something under his foot caught his attention. The crushed flower.

He carefully picked it up, confused out of his head. “Crutch… what’s wrong?” Clearly, now was a bad time to tell him about his diagnosed depression.

Crutchie didn’t say anything, or look at Jack. His gaze was hard, funded on the wall in front of him.

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Worried about nothing

Requested: yes this genius did. (hope it’s okay)

Words: 1734

A/N: ok so this gave me major feels and I was smiling all way though the writing. It’s so cute! but it was hard making them not similar, so sorry if they are a little alike. (I don’t know what happened with the Beyoncé references. It just kinda happened there, sorry.) Please request shit too ;)


Stupid ass periods. You always knew when it was coming because it gave you nausea the day before. But this morning you threw up. You didn’t want to wake Ashton up on a free day, so you hurried to the bathroom. The dinner from last night came out as you were kneeling down. Fortunately you didn’t miss the toilet, so you saw that as a win.

“Holy shit, Y/N! “ He yelled as he stormed down beside you. “What’s wrong? “

“Oh you know… just puking. “ You answered sarcastically sitting back, getting comfortable on the cold bathroom floor. Ashton looked concerned and his green eyes showed affection towards you. His hair was messy from just waking up.

“You’re not going to work today! “ He exclaimed. He knew you were tired of not being able to be with him for the day. You looked at him with wide eyes and a small grin.

“Yes I am. It’s just… girl stuff. “ You said, not knowing if you should say that it was your period causing you pain.

“You’re having your period now? “ He asked without hesitation. Ashton wasn’t the one to hold back. You nodded slightly. But if you took some pills, you knew it would be better in a half hour. But Ashton insisted on you staying home. His arms were wrapped around your shoulder, as you both sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the bathtub. The smell from vomit, sweat and sleep filled the room, but neither of you noticed. Ashton was coming up with arguments for you to stay home. But you just shook your head at everything he said.

“You’re sick. You’re not going to work. “ He said. “Do it for me.” His green eyes were filled with comfort. You knew he wasn’t just worried about you, but he actually wanted you to stay home with him. He just saw a chance to make you stay.

“Ashton, there is no reason for me skip school. “ You murmured as he caressed your shoulder. He kissed your temple and whispered, “Do it for me”. You sighed. He already had you.

“Fine. “ You muffled. “But be careful with convincing me to do bad things. At some point I might write an album about you and call it Strawberry Juice. “ He laughed that adorable schoolgirl giggle at your reference to Beyoncé and kissed your forehead.

“I love you. “

“Love you too. “


You texted Calum, saying that you went home early due to fever. And boy, was that a bad idea. He responded immediately, asking you to bring anything home from work. You said no, since you didn’t want to eat at all. He responded that he was coming home from work early and you freaked out. He wasn’t supposed to leave the studio just because of you. You wouldn’t allow him, and you teaxted him saying that. But he ignored you.

You were lying in bed, trying to sleep when you heard the door smacking and Calum coming in. You heard his rushed steps towards the bedroom and him opening the door. You looked up at him, seeing him with a white plastic bag.

“I’m good. “ You murmured under the duvet. Calums big brown eyes were bigger than normal showing concerning. “Just a day off, so I can get better. “

“I bought you cookies though. If you want to lay and eat them all day. “ He walked towards the bed, standing beside it.

“Why did you leave the studio? “ You turned around in the bed, so you were facing him. His big body was shadowing down on you.

“You’re sick. “

“I’m fine!

“No, you’re sick! “ He raised his voice, just to make the statement. “You’re pale, your eyes are puffed, snot is running down your nose and you don’t look normal. “

“Maybe it’s just because I’m not wearing makeup. “ You joked, even though you knew Calum wouldn’t like that comment. He hated when you would tear yourself down. Calum looked at you with bitchface, before laying down beside you. He pulled you close to his body, so you could feel his warm breath hitting your neck.

“I’m sick. You shouldn’t be near. “ You cried out, trying to push him away.

“I thought you were ‘fine’” Calum said and even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had that corky smirk smeared over his face.

“I am. “ You whispered. “You shouldn’t have come home from work. “

“Bitch, you’re not fine. “ Calum yelled, making you flinch.

“Jeez, Beyoncé-Calum is back, huh? “ You smiled and touched your ear to make it clear he was being too loud.

“Beyoncé-Calum is here to protect my baby. “ he said, kissing your neck and jawline. You smiled and fell asleep in seconds. Having loved one around calmed you down.


All of a sudden, you were on your ass. It went real fast. You haven’t really tried skate boarding before, but Michael and Luke really wanted to go try this skate park. They weren’t pros either, but they knew how to keep the balance. Luke came storming towards you as the sun made you squint your eyes, making you lift your hand to cover the sun.

“Oh my god, are you okay? “ The skateboard was five meters away from you now. “I should not have let you try this without you holding my hands. “ Because that’s how it started. Luke would held your hands as you slowly moved forward. At some point you actually thought you were getting better. But apparently you weren’t.

“I’m okay. “ You said, putting your hand down as Michaels shadow was hovering over you. “Can you break your ass though? Cause I think that you just happened? “ You asked getting up, even though your butt still was hurting. You really wanted to learn how to skateboard. You ran towards your board, ready to do better the next time.

“Where do you think you’re going? “ Luke yelled from behind you, making you look behind you. He was standing with a confused look smeared over his face.

“To get my board. “ You grinned, because it was too obvious.

“No. “ You stopped up, turned around on your heel and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You hurt yourself. You’re not skateboarding anymore. “ Luke walked towards you, but you simply picked up the board and stood up, making him run. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Michael standing there laughing his ass off because of Luke being so protective.

“I’m a grown woman! “ You yelled with a grin, showing that it wasn’t serious. You and Luke were almost the same height at this point. Luke rolled his eyes at you and put his hands around your waist.

“Stop quoting Beyoncé. “ He smiled as he lifted you down from the skateboard. He pulled you closer and kissed you, making your lips linger when he pulled away. “We should go home. You’re way too clumsy to skateboard. “

He kissed your forehead and held your hand. You noticed he grabbed a little tighter than usual.


It wasn’t a big deal. You were clumsy and things like that happened all the time to you. Once you broke your leg, because you fell over a chair. The last couple of years you actually thought it was getting better: you were getting less clumsy. Until you were to jump down from the kitchen counter. You got your ankle twisted and you screamed out for help. Michael had seen you lying on the floor and carried you out to the car, driving you to the doctor. He looked so worried about your little accident, but you were relieved that you had only sprained it. But you thought he would have stopped carrying you everywhere when you got the crutches. He would carry you from the car to your house, bride style, making you giggle when he stepped inside the doorframe. He would place you on the couch without your crutches, so you were alone without the ability to get up. When he came in the door, he didn’t say anything, only bit his lip, concentrating in placing the correct pillow under the left foot.

“Michael. It’s the right foot. “ You smiled as he looked up at you with concerned eyes and a real smile.

“Oh. “ he mumbled placing the pillow under the right food. He then sat at the floor, the closest to your face and turned on the tv. There was a movie playing that you both just kinda watched and made fun of the crappy productions. After half an hour, he said something serious. “Want something to eat, angel? “

“Yeah, actually. Do we have pizza from yesterday? “ You nodded and sat up in the couch, because you had to pee. So when Michael went into the kitchen, you saw an opportunity to go to the bathroom. You grabbed your crutches and hurried to bathroom. You really wanted to be with Michael as much as possible and… you wanted to see the ending to the crappy movie. So when you were done, you humped fast back to the living room where Michael stood with wide eyes and open mouth.

“The fuck? Where were you? “ he asked, rushing towards you grapping your waist.

“Peeing. It’s what some humans do. “ You said, tilting your head. “Maybe not Beyoncé. But you know, she’s immortal. “  Michael didn’t even smile at your weird comment, which he usually would do. He just lifted you up, making you drop your crutches. He laid you down on the couch very carefully.

“You can’t move. “ He said with a small smile, but his eyes meant it. “I don’t want you getting hurt. “ He dropped to his knees, so his face was only inches from yours.

“Honey, it’s only a sprained ankle. “ You grinned, but he was dead serious. His grey, gorgeous eyes looked upset as if he didn’t understand how you could take it so calmly.

“I don’t want you getting hurt. “ He repeated. You cupped his face and kissed him, letting your lips moving over his. You pulled away looking him in the eye, with a slight smirk.

“I won’t. “

request - im running low on ideas ;)

masterlist - more shit like this

I Still Love You [Hansol Seventeen Angst]

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Summary: Arguments are unavoidable in relationships but you’ve never had to deal with one this intense. 


My first ever Hansol fic!!! I hope I kept the storyline well and that you enjoyed it anon :-) Thanks again for this lovely request <333 (I wrote Vernon as Hansol….is that okay? Sorry!! I tend to write their real names ;(  Also, I think it’s too short. Ahhhh I need improvement~~) 

Quarrels were inevitable. That, you knew. For the past 2 years, there had been small disagreements and maybe even some fights but none of them had ever escalated to the extent where Hansol and you were shouting at the top of your voices at the same time, shooting each other down with harsh words and trying to shut the other one up by doing so. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been tolerating your-”

“Tolerating me? More like even bothering to care-”

“I don’t bother to care? You’re not even worth caring-”

“You see what I mean?” 

From the living room, the Seventeen members could hear you and Hansol’s verbal war which had been going on for 20 minutes. 

It wasn’t this loud at first, starting off with just a simple comment he blurted out about you visiting too early in the morning. Hansol’s tired face and nonchalant behavior were easy to ignore but his thoughtless words got to you eventually. 

The second thing he said carelessly was that you didn’t bring enough food. You laughed at first, finding it cute that your boyfriend’s need for food would make him whine like that but his third remark made you think twice. 

“Stingy.” That word hit you hard. You’ve never been rich, being from a single parent family. With the little money you earned from working part time, you bought breakfast to feed 13 hungry boys and he called you stingy? 

“Excuse me?” Scoffing, you stopped laying the food on the table and walked up to him. “I’m, stingy?” Hansol rolled his eyes and walked away from you, pulling out a chair for him to sit on. 

“I mean, you bought ham sandwiches. How is that going to be enough?” Grabbing one of the slices from the container, he stuffed it into his mouth as he spoke which disgusted you. 

“If you think it’s not enough, then stop eating. At this rate, the rest are not going to have any left.” Snatching the container away from him, you offered it to Seunggwan who took it with a nervous smile. 

“That’s my point. If you know it won’t be enough, then you should have bought more!” Looking around you, the other 12 boys were looking away awkwardly, not daring to take the sandwiches to eat as two of you were starting to get more frustrated with each other by the second. 

“Can you not raise your voice here? The boys can’t even enjoy their breakfast. I came here to treat you, not to argue.” An argument was about to start, you could sense it. Walking away to allow Hansol to cool down would be your best option. 

Laughing sarcastically, Hansol got up from his seat and went into his room. “What a treat.” 

That, was all you could take.

“What do you mean?” Hansol yelled with a particular tone in his voice which made you feel like duct taping his mouth and throwing him into a cupboard. Despite the door being shut, you were sure that the members could hear the never-ending, back and forth shouting. 

“You treat me like shit, Hansol. That’s what I mean.” You spat, hands clenched by your sides. 

“I treat you like shit? Of course I do, because you are shit.” That came out so easily from his mouth which surprised the both of you. Hansol’s eyes widened in shock but changed to one of indifference almost immediately as he refused to admit his mistake. 

“I’m…I’m what? Fine, I’m sorry for you then.” Smiling grimly, you shook your head with disappointment and crossed your arms over your chest. “Because your personality is so low and so disgusting that even shit wants to leave you.”

That, made him snap. Before you could turn around and leave, you saw his hand raise and then descend at great speed with immense strength, slapping your cheek within seconds. The stinging pain was intense but your heart hurt a hundred times more. Hansol hand fell to his sides. What did I just do? Tears escaped your eyes as you backed away fearfully from him. 

“You scare me Hansol.” Turning away from his panic-stricken face, you opened the door to 12 horrified faces as you whispered loud enough for only Hansol to hear. 

“I hate you.”

“__________…he didn’t mean to.” The maknae tried to assure you as you started packing up the containers into the bag. 

“Y-yeah…he’ll apologise…he’s just tired-”

“If being tired is a good reason to slap people, then millions of people would get slapped every day.” You were in no mood to hear his friends defending him, even if it was to make you feel better because nothing at that moment could make your anger go away.

“We can talk things out-” Seungcheol started but you ignored him, taking your things and leaving the dorm. 

Your mind was blank. Did that really just happen? Hansol’s attitude was horrible unlike what he normally was and you were starting to regret your actions. Maybe I should have just let him be. He might have had a bad day yesterday. Thoughts started popping up in your head and explanations for his sudden change in character but you stopped your train of thoughts. Am I really thinking of reasons to justify the way he treated me now? That was just how much you loved him. Nothing he could ever do could seem to make you lose all hope in him, this time was no different. 

Seeing a red light turn green, you stepped off the sidewalk and onto the streets. “Hey! Get off the street! What are you doing” Hearing shouts from behind you, you looked over your shoulder and frowned at a man who was desperately using body language to ask you to come back. Do I know him?

“Why are you-” You called but you couldn’t finish your sentence. Something rammed into you and it hit you hard.

Adjusting to the light, you slowly opened your eyes to find yourself in a hospital room. “W-what…am I doing here?” The Seventeen boys heard you and rushed immediately to your side, pelting you with questions like ‘are you okay?’ and ‘how did you get into the accident?’. You were grateful for their concern and assured them that you would be okay with some rest but the question that you had for them was…

“Where is Hansol?” Looking around you, he was nowhere to be found. He didn’t come?

“I think he’s too ashamed to face you, ________. He keeps saying that you’re scared of him and that he was scared of himself.” Soonyoung pouted and took a seat on the chair beside your bed. 

“Does he know that I’m…like this?” You couldn’t move your left leg as it was in a huge cast and your right arm was in a cast too. The rest of your body had bruises and cuts here and there. Basically, you looked like a mess.

“We didn’t tell him. You know Hansol…he would put all the blame on himself. Some members are back at the dorm with him so that he wouldn’t suspect anything. He’s in a mess and he needs time. As his friend I…apologise for his behaviour back then.” You looked at Jeonghan and knew that he was right. Hansol would say that it was all his fault which wasn’t the truth. You weren’t careful. 

“It’s okay, I understand Jeonghan. Thanks for being so considerate.” 

After a few weeks, your body had recovered almost fully except for your leg which was still in the process of recovering, having been extremely injured. Despite having to use crutches which was a pain, seeing Hansol was more important than your comfort. Again, that was how much you loved him. 

You didn’t want him blaming himself any longer. Expression dull and eye bags obvious, you could tell from photos Seventeen posted that your boyfriend was having a rough time. So were you, but you could bear with the pain more than seeing him suffer.

Pressing the doorbell, you struggled to balance as you waited for someone to answer the door. “W-woah woah woah!” Legs wobbling and body tilting, you would have fallen to the ground if not for a pair of strong arms, holding you before you could fall.

“_________…w-what happened to you?” Hansol’s eyes were opened wide and the worried look on his face was expected.

“I met with an accident…” Sheepishly grinning, you tried to sound positive but he was dead serious.


“The day we argued…” You muttered. Hansol’s head lowered with guilt.

“It’s my fault…It’s all my fault…” Raising one crutch and hitting his leg lightly, Hansol raised his head and met your gaze.

“Why do you think I’m here instead of resting at home?” But being the Hansol you knew, he didn’t interpret your statement correctly, thinking that you were there for an apology.

“Oh shit ________, I didn’t even say sorry! I’m such a horrible-”

“I’m here because I don’t want you blaming yourself, Hansol.” Smiling slightly, you sighed as he looked at you with such wide eyes, not being able to believe what he was hearing.

“You’re blaming yourself for how you treated me and you’re blaming yourself for the accident when it’s not even your fault. Hansol, you were maybe too tired that day or in a bad mood. I should have been more considerate. Don’t be so harsh on yourself anymore okay? I forgive you.” For a moment, Hansol stood there with his eyes slightly watery, simply looking at you standing there,caring about him even as your leg throbbed in the cast. 

“I love you __________.” Pressing his lips against yours, Hansol cupped your face with his gentle hands. Breaking the kiss, he whispered, “How can you still forgive me after all that I’ve done? I don’t deserve you _______.” 

Holding his hands for support while dropping your crutches, you looked up at him and glared playfully.

“Sometimes, I think I love you too much.”

The Hunter of Hogwarts

A Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover

Pairing: Draco x reader

Summary: Reader is Dean and Sam Winchester’s little sister who gets a letter from some school called Hogwarts around the beginning of season 2 of Supernatural. (The years don’t exactly line up, but this is fan fiction, so it’s ok. ;))

Word Count: 2041

Warnings: car accident, character death, John Winchester being himself, Dean is a jerk in part of it, blood, injury, I think that’s it

A/N: In honor of reaching 200 followers, here is the much requested second part of Draco Malfoy Prompt #22. Well, it’s sort of a part two. This part is like a prequel, so if you haven’t read that prompt yet, you don’t have to read that first. You can read this first or that, it doesn’t really matter to me. There is gonna be one more part between this one and the prompt chronologically.


You sat in the back seat of the Impala behind Sam, who was driving and arguing with your dad about why Sam hadn’t killed him while the demon that had killed Mary was possessing him. You were trying to clean Dean up. You were hurt a bit, but not nearly as bad as Dean was. 

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Let’s talk Kaisoo

Although this subject is still sensitive right now, I think we need to talk about it and clear some things up.

Since news of Kaistal (Kai and Krystal) dating there has been a lot of stirred up assumptions. One of them in particular is from 160409 TOP Chinese Music Awards. Apparently people were getting sad, because it looked like Kyungsoo was ignoring Kai.

Please keep in mind a few things before we get into this:

- These are not facts. Just our theories. We look into all possibilities and provide our perceptions with pictures and video, as why and how we came to our conclusion. Let’s keep an open mind and try to remain neutral.

Now that is covered, let’s start with the idea that Kyungsoo is purposely ignoring Kai.

Although pictures are great you need to remember that only one captured moment isn’t enough to prove that he is upset.

For example these screenshots:

See the comment at the bottom. (even if it was for humor) It’s very easy to make an assumption that Kyungsoo looks upset.

But let’s see the actual moment in action:

Now does Kyungsoo looks upset? More just like looking around… If you notice none of the members were out right just smiling. Not even Chen, Chanyeol, or Suho. We can’t critique every micro facial expression they make.

For the glancing bit. Remember, Kai has a habit of staring at whoever is speaking.

Like here with Lay, he’s talking and Kai is giving all of his attention to him.

And again while Suho is speaking.

That is Kai’s habit.

As for Kyungsoo, he has bad eyesight. Speaking from personal experience, someone with bad eyesight have to focus that much harder on their surroundings and often tend to zone out. Kyungsoo is known for zoning out. He sometimes takes a while to respond. He doesn’t show emotions as easily as the other members.

Example 1:

Some people might say that he’s wearing contacts so don’t blame it on his eyesight. BUT at the award show, same night as ‘avoiding eye contact’ watch Kyungsoo at 2:43 still struggling with his astigmatism.

All the boys were tired that night. Schedules, and then traveling to China for the 16th Top Chinese Music Award. Paying attention to every member they all look tired. Smiling weary here and there but otherwise just neutral. Plus not understanding the language, not knowing what they are saying aside from Lay’s translations, they tend to space out since they can’t give a proper reaction to the comments and questions. X 

They knew they had to catch a plane, arrive, practice/rehearse, get ready for their appearance, and then go to an award show that lasted about 3-4 hours watching everyone’s performances and then perform their own. That’s tiring.

160408 (day before the award show, Shenzhen airport arrival) 

photo credit: kaiserdolly

This photo alone proves the theory that Kyungsoo is upset with Kai isn’t accurate at all. Kyungsoo really cares for Kai and that gesture alone proves that they haven’t lost their bond.

Even if this explain a lot, let’s continue so we can cover all of the area’s of concern.


Notice here Kyungsoo’s face, he’s not laughing, but has a small smile. Keyword being ‘small’. 

In this moment Kai had suddenly dropped his crutches and started laughing because it scared Chanyeol half to death. X - video of that moment



“A lot changes within a short time of period. Soo lost his smile” - caption comparing both pictures said.

Kyungsoo’s first instinct was to help Jongin with his crutches. This has nothing to do with smiling more or less.

In order to prove by theory that it doesn’t always pay to look into every expression and assume, we had to do the same, looking at all these moments with an open mind. Our goal with this theory was to show that Kyungsoo isn’t ignoring Jongin or upset with him just because of the recent news of Kaistal dating.

If you have any questions or theories of your own feel free to contact us. Always keep PRIDE in EXO.

- Admin Nini

Let Me Love You

Okay, but imagine this:

Harry is a famous pop star who owns his own record label. He’s also a bit of a prick, who comes off as someone who only loves himself. Oh, and his cat, Bandit. He’s closed himself off after his mother’s death, trying not to think about his father’s alcoholism. He sees the world as a selfish place, where only the selfish can succeed. And succeed he did.

He is hard on his employees, demanding they start early and work late, threatening to fire them if they don’t do as he pleases. But he also pays them pretty well, which is why they put up with his shit.

Louis is Harry’s right-hand man, who has been Harry’s best friend since childhood, and as much as he tries to change Harry’s behavior, nothing he does helps.

Then one day Louis comes into Harry’s office, plopping down into a chair. He announces he’s hired a new music producer for the label to replace Zayn. Then he starts chattering about how good the lad is at his job, and how intelligent and beautiful he is. Harry sighs, trying to ignore Louis, and when that doesn’t work he looks up from his work, directing a pointed stare at Louis. Louis of course doesn’t take the hint and only leaves when he’s done gushing.

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“Please don’t pass out, please don’t pass out,” Dean grunted, willing himself to overcome the pain surfacing anew as the effect of the morphine rapidly wore off with each limping step. One busted leg, several cracked ribs, and a splitting headache; the aftermath of what he’d first thought was a successful case. 

It’d been really simple–all Dean had to do in the end was flick his freaking lighter and say sayonara to the bitch in black. He’d taken your trembling hand in his as you watched the suicide note belonging to the late Mrs Jenkins catch fire. The poltergeist that had haunted you for weeks wailed as the flames licked her incorporeal body and then went out with her, the way the flame of a candle would after being abruptly snuffed out. 

Assuming that that had been it, Dean had definitely not being prepared for what happened next. Seconds after the spirit evaporated, the cabin’s ceiling cracked and collapsed. Dean had pushed you out of harm’s way in time before a large wooden beam crashed down on him, but still another beam swung down and hit you in the back, knocking you unconscious. He could only stare at the scene in shock for a few moments more before his world went dark too.

Dean now hobbled in crutches down the hallways of the hospital, peering into the rooms he passed through, growing frantic by the minute. Doctors and nurses walked past him, seemingly too wrapped up in their work to notice an errant patient.

A flash of amber caught Dean’s eye from a small room to his right. He backtracked clumsily, cursing his limp leg and the damn crutches slowing him down, but the words died in his mouth when he saw you. The sunset light coming from your window cast light on your bruised but otherwise unscathed form. Propped against the pillows, you slept, your peaceful countenance showing no trace of the horrors you’d lived through.

Relief washed over Dean once he realised you were safe; the case had been successful after all. He moved closer to the bed, his hand lingering over yours before gently caressing it. A thousand excuses ran through his head in that moment, every single one justifying the idea of staying with you, but only one reason prevented him from doing so: you’d already had enough trouble for a lifetime, and the mere presence of him near you only meant more trouble.

Dean watched the steady rise and fall of your chest a moment more before propping himself back up on his crutches, ready for the trip back his own room, when the soft mention of his name stopped him dead on his tracks.

“Leaving so soon?” you croaked, eyes opening slowly as they got used to the light. Dean turned around, cheeks growing hot under your questioning look. “I was, um, I was just leaving.” He cleared his throat and gave you a gentle smile. “Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be,” you said. You sat upright against the pillows, your face breaking into a warm grin. “Something tells me that if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have seen you again.”

Dean chuckled at this, but did not deny it. The thought of not seeing him again, even though you barely knew the man, made you feel like you were about to lose something invaluable. You cleared your throat before speaking again. 

“You saved my life, Dean. A ‘Thank you’ kinda falls short demonstrating how grateful I really am that I met you.”

“Coming from you, sweetheart, it makes it all worth it,” he said. You looked at each other, a thousand words unsaid hanging in the air between you. And then it was over, the moment Dean glanced down and gripped his crutches tight, preparing to leave and never come back. 

If the look in his eyes had been true, only one word might change his mind about it. You extended your hand towards him. “Stay, Dean. Please.”

Immediately, a wide grin took over his face, and just as fast a furrowed brow replaced it, but a tentative smile surfaced above it as he asked, “Do you really want me to, Y/N?”

You nodded, and then added in a teasing tone, “At least until the doctors realise that you’re missing and have to drag you back to your own bed.”

Dean sat on the edge of your bed and unceremoniously dropped his crutches to the floor, giving you a conspiratorial look. “Sweetheart, they can try and drag me if they want, but I won’t be leaving unless you tell me to.”


Convalescence Pt.6

Tuesday 28th June 2017.

“Why do we have to have separate sessions?” Owen asked as he sat down with Tim alone in his office.

“Sometimes, there are certain things that we feel we cannot say because the person we’re trying not to hurt is in the room too,” Tim answered simply, pulling out the notes he took from the last session, “Now, how did the exercise go?”

Owen smirked. “We kissed on Sunday.”

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