what are you saying he threatened the judges

117. Old people looking on at the two of you fondly. [Dean Winchester]

A/N: Day number 3 of this prompt thing I’ve taken on. Prompt #117.

Word count: 599

Warnings: Mention of sex, otherwise just fluff I suppose

-

“Say, Marlene, don’t these two remind you of the good old days?” a kind man asks his partner.

“Of course, Fred,” the older woman returns, smiling as she watched the pair fight over who would pay for their dinner. “I’ve been watching them all evening.”

The elderly woman’s gaze directs to the younger couple a few tables away.

“You said last time that I could pay this time!” the girl protests, reaching across the table in a very unladylike manner for the tab that Dean had already picked up.

“It’s called a date,” he tells her, swatting at her hand. “The guy always pays on a date or else it’s not a real date.”

“It’s the twenty first century, Dean! Girls can pay for food too!” she says grouchily, scooting her chair closer to the diner table in an attempt to get a further reach.

“Yeah but you’re not gonna!” he catches the waiter’s eye, gesturing him over.

“Dean, I swear if you don’t let me pay for this, then I’m not going on a hunt with you for two weeks,” she threatens, and he pauses for a moment, trying to judge her seriousness.

Two weeks without her on hunts would make for some long days, that much he knew.

“Look, darling. She just said something that made him second guess what he’s doing,” Marlene nudges the old man beside her. “I remember I used to do that all the time.”

“And more often than not it made me look like a fool!” Fred returns, offering his wife a knowing look. “I can feel for that poor man.”

Once more their gazes travel to the couple.

“Don’t be that way,” Dean remarks, watching her pout. Pouting never worked on him, but every single time he was a few seconds away from breaking when she gave up. “You can get the check next time.”

“That’s what you said last time!” she explodes, shooting him a glare. “And the time before that!”

“I know, Sweetheart,” he says with a mischievous grin as he hands the waiter his card. The waiter takes it and walks away, leaving her scowling after him. “How about I make it up to you when we get back to the bunker?”

“How could you ever make it up to me?” she asks, watching his smirk grow.

“That depends on how you want me to make it up to you,” he returns, reaching for her hand over the table.

She pauses for a moment, weighing her words carefully.

“You can make it up to me by letting me drive Baby,” she says, watching his eyes narrow.

“That’s playing dirty,” he growls, taking his card from the waiter as he returned.

“Or…” she trails off, squeezing his hand. “You fuck me hard in Baby once we get back to the bunker. Your choice.”

He gives her a long look, as if trying to judge her seriousness.

“I’m driving,” he says with a smirk as he stands up, and she rises shortly after him.

He leans down and gives her a soft kiss on the cheek while his hand falls to give her ass a subtle squeeze before he guides her out of the diner.

“Yeah, those two bring back the good memories,” Marlene sighs as she watches the young couple depart.

Fred rises to his feet and offers his wife his hand, as they had already paid their bill.

And in a momentary spur from their youth, he reaches behind and grabs her rear, just as he had seen the young couple do moments before.

“Good memories, indeed, Marlene.”

Gemma Doesn’t Like You

YO I’M BACK


“Are you nervous?” Harry asks, gripping onto Y/n’s hand as he starts his three hour drive to his sister’s house.

In their now one year of dating, Y/n is finally meeting Harry’s sister, Gemma. With their schedules being tied from Y/n’s university, to Gemma’s new job, and Harry’s recent solo work, there was barely any time for either of them to take a three hour drive for them to meet. But with somehow a lot of convincing bosses and Y/’s spring break, it’s finally time for Y/n to meet Harry’s “second half.”

“I’m okay.” Y/n replies reluctantly. 

In all honesty, she’s scared shitless. Even though the rest of Harry’s family practically coos over Y/n, Y/n wasn’t raised in a high income family. She shared a two bedroom apartment with her two parents and her two older brothers her entire life. Her only time out of the house was when she went off to school or work, never really having a social life because she neither had time or money for it. This news has been everywhere in the tabloids. How Y/n is living in Harry’s home, how Y/n is only paying off debt and university because of Harry’s wealth. But even though those statements are completely true, it is nothing like what it seems. There is an entirely different story underneath their publications that nobody understands besides Harry and Y/n. And that’s what scares her the most.

“Don’t worry, baby. She’ll love you. She can read whatever she wants, yeah? But all she needs to pay attention to is who you really are.”

Y/n almost throws up at this. 

Harry holds her hand tighter. He knows she knows Gemma has already tried to get Harry to break up with her for a while now. She thinks that Y/n is nothing but a gold digger, using a sympathy card to get every ounce of money out of him so that she can manage a living. Of course that wasn’t the case, and Harry would be willing to spend the rest of his life disproving his sister. And he’s starting today.

“Who I really am is not going to impress her, Harry. I have nothing set out for me.”

“Woah woah woah, wait a second, don’t say things like that.”

“It’s the truth.” She shrugs.

“That’s far from it. You’ve been busting your ass trying to finish school. I have never seen someone be so determined to accomplish anything in my life. You inspire me everyday, every single day. When I feel like giving up or thinking what I’m doing isn’t worth it, I think of your ability to overcome any of that. It doesn’t matter your money, Y/n, you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’d do anything to be half the woman you are.”

Y/n smirks, letting out a slight chuckle. She leans over to press a gentle kiss on his cheek, rubbing her nose slightly against the skin.

“So you wanna be a woman, huh?”

Harry laughs, sneaking a look at her from the corner of his eye. Her hair in loose curls, diamond stud earrings glistening on her ears, a small smile playing on her lips, her eyes trained on the road in front of her.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Harry sighs, “you’ll always have me.”


Pulling up into Gemma’s driving gave Y/n enough fear to almost pass out on the walk to her front door. Everything she has felt about this day is building up so much inside of her that her body almost feels numb. 

“Stop stressing, darling” Harry chuckles, “it’ll be fine.”

When taking the steps up to her door, Y/n had to grab onto Harry’s hand in case she wanted to run away. Harry gave her a reassuring kiss before he opened the door and walked inside her home.

“Gem! We’re here!”

Her house is everything Y/n expected it to be. Everything is open, everything all in one place, nothing to separate the rooms. It all looked so expensive, there is nothing Y/n has ever seen like it. All she can see herself doing in it is dancing without having any walls to bump into.

Gemma walks out from the kitchen, looking slightly uneasy, but smiling as she gave her brother a welcoming hug. When releasing herself from Harry, Gemma gives Y/n the most disgusting look she has ever seen.

“So, this is Y/N”

Y/n disregards the way she says it. She’s going to do her best to get Gemma’s liking, there is no way she can mess this up,

“Hello, Gemma, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Y/n smiles, sticking her hand out to properly introduce herself. Gemma smiles slightly, looking down at Y/n’s hand.  

“Is there any reason my brother is paying your university tuition, Y/n?

The way she says her name burns Y/n’s insides, like her name is toxic on the tongue. She slowly puts her hand down, tucking it underneath her other arm as her second hand moves to push twist her hair. 

“O- Oh, um..”

“Gemma!” Harry seethes, “what the hell?”

“N- No, Harry,” Y/n interjects, shaking her head slightly, “it’s fine. It’s just that my family isn’t financially stable. They obviously wanted me to get into the best university I could, so when I got accepted, I began to take out student loans. I was on work study and we were provided a good amount of financial aid but it wasn’t enough for us. I ended up owing a lot of money to the bank and-“

“So you had my brother use all the money he saved up from his career to pay for you?”

Y/n stands wide-eyed, clearly not expecting the accusation of her using him. It took Y/n months before agreeing to let Harry pay her tuition. He had offered since the day he met her. She stressed herself out in ways he’d never seen. He felt his career wasn’t even half of what she put herself through at the time. He had all the money for everything she wanted, he was willing to give every penny he had to her, drop everything he’s worked for and give it all to her. He didn’t need it anymore. He had spent his entire life building and building his future. He spent five years making money that he didn’t even know what to do with. He found his girl, he found the one he was going to marry. He had a house, a beautiful house, one he could still pay off because he’s still being paid for being in the media. He lived his dream, there was no reason to keep it. None.
After what felt like years of Harry begging her, to the point where he even went on his knees, to help her get through her financial crisis, she couldn’t say no. Not to that amount of desperation, not when he was in tears watching her suffer so much.

“Wh- what? No, no that’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“What the fuck, Gem?!” Harry growls, his eyes narrowing, pulling Y/n closer to his side. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.“

“That’s bullshit!” Gemma spits, taking a threatening step closer to Y/n, who’s shaking and choking back her stupid tears.

“What are the chances a girl like you gets it on with my brother?! Huh? What are the fucking chances of that?!" 

“THAT IS FUCKING ENOUGH!” Harry booms, pushing his hand out to push Gemma away from Y/n.

He swears, he could fucking break her wrists in half. Gemma was the last person he expected to judge Y/n on her economic class. He actually thought they’d get on extremely well. He never expected to be holding Gemma back from punching a fearful, shaken up Y/n, whom he wishes more than anything to be comforting right now, but is too scared to set Gemma out of his grasp. 

Y/n steps back, taking in a harsh breath as the wind is knocked right out of her. She genuinely feels like someone punched her in the throat, which probably would have happened if Harry wasn’t holding Gemma back as hard as he is.
She feels the tears that were building up in her eyes slowly start to fall, her barrier completely breaking down. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, nothing was. She’s not supposed to make Harry’s family hate her. She wanted to become apart of it, grow old and pass down more generations of it. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

In the mix of her emotions, Y/n puts on the fakest fucking smile she’s ever put on. Of course it’s not on there for long. She looks down the second it disappears, falling just as quickly as it formed. If she continues to fight for herself, there would be no room for any hope she wishes to carry that Gemma will somehow see her differently. 

“You don’t have to worry about this anymore, Gemma” she cries, little pathetic sobs finding their way from her throat, “I’m going to go now.”

Harry’s head whips up, his heart suddenly stopping when he sees her turn away. 

“No.” He whispers, “baby, baby don’t.” 

His hands loosen around Gemma’s wrists. Not giving a crap what she decides to do once he lets go, his hands fall completely to his sides when he sees her run out the front door.

“I never want her back in this goddamn house, Harry, I swear-”

Never fucking speak to me again!” Harry roars, “if I ever fucking see you after this you’re done! Do you understand that?! You’re fucking done!”

Gemma gasps, flinging her hands into the air.

“What the fuck?! Are you blind, Harry?! I’m protecting you!”

Harry’s hands clench into fists, all his anger building up inside of him. He drove three hours, taking Y/n’s spring break time, the only time she can ever relax, away from her, just to show up here and have Gemma disrespect Y/n like that? How dare she even think about that? How dare she belittle her in front of him like that?

Before Harry can even think properly, his fist is colliding harshly against the wall. He felt nothing, only a few pieces of the cement falling to his feet and the horrified look Gemma is looking at him with.

“You’re a piece of shit! You’re fucking dead to me! You’re fucking done!”

Before Harry wastes anymore time, he’s out that door in seconds. He runs in the direction their house is. He’s never run quicker, as if his legs are full speed and his mind is scattered all around him. Nothing is making sense, everything he thought he knew was falling apart. The life he’s built himself is crumbling beneath him, and there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Y/n, Y/n wait!” Harry yells once he sees her running. 

She can hear him, she can hear him loud and clear, but her legs don’t stop moving, and she hasn’t even turned her head to look at him. She can’t, she can’t look at everything she’s ever loved and walk away from it. It’ll be too much for her, she’ll break the second she looks at him and she knows it.

Before Y/n can quicken her pace, Harry grabs onto her wrist so tight that she somehow ended up ramming into his chest. He immediately begins to cry, grabbing her face in his hands as he forces her eyes to land on him.

“Don’t leave me, baby. Don’t leave me.”

“Harry-“

“Not over my fucking sister, Y/n. Please, you can’t do that to me. You can’t.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, breaking down entirely as she feels him hold her. How in the world is she going to do this? It’s either she stays with Harry and gets tormented by his sister, who will make her life a living hell, or she leaves Harry, and lives the rest of her life alone because she can’t find love in anyone else.

She almost considers staying with him. Almost. But there is no way she can stay together with him and live her entire life being hated by somebody who means more to Harry than she does. She just can’t.

“She’s right. This whole thing. All of this is a mistake, we’re too different. This isn’t right.” Y/n sobs.

“NO!” Harry barks, pressing his forehead so hard onto hers he wouldn’t be shocked if he broke his skull from it. 

“You don’t dare say that shit to me. You don’t say that to me.”

Y/n shakes her head, pushing him off of her as hard as she could.

“That’s your sister, the way she spoke to me.”

“I don’t care. I’ll never let her in again, she won’t have any fucking sense in this, baby. Nothing will get in our way.”

But she just can’t.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry swears he feels his heart ripping in half at her words. His body feels completely detached, like every bone is breaking and all he has left to do is fall in front of her. He holds onto her legs like it’s his last hope. His sobs draining out everything in his head and all he can fucking feel is the mix of his heart being taken right out of his chest and her hands running softly through his hair.

“Please, Y/n.” Is the only thing is brain can muster. Please, please, please. Any source of desperation to keep her with him, that’s the only thing his brain can produce.

He grips onto her legs tighter, his forehead pressed against her knees. He feels her tug at his hair, hears her cry and curse under her breath. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Please.”

She sighs, a last cry ripping from her.

“I can’t.”

tear in my heart

summary: 

“It’s February,” Lance repeats slowly.

“Yep,” Pidge says with barely restrained glee. And fuck, Keith is sweating.

or: pidge sucks at getting revenge. 

ao3

a/n: yooo happy late valentines alyx!! for @alyxsayssup for the @klancevalentines exchange! i hope you enjoy this /// <33

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can't it be me instead? chpt 1

chpt 2, chpt 3, chpt 4, chpt 5, chpt 6, chpt 7, chpt 8, chpt 9

Summary; the love of your life, Rocky, get’s a girlfriend suddenly and it feels like your world is falling apart. With the help of Moonbin, you try to win him back, but in the end you’re not sure if that’s what you want.

Genre; Angst, Fluff 

(based on the Japanese film ‘Heroine Disqualified’)

Originally posted by moonbinny

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The Counterphobic 6, my take.

I’m not here to say cp6′s get a bad wrap, or that we’re misunderstood. However, i do think there are some nuances that could be clarified. For example, as a counterphobic 6, I would not describe my inner dialogue as *INWARD SCREAMING* or *RRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE* as every tumblr post seems too. Of course these posts are merely being humorous, and there is no harm in that. The real problem is that the enneagram 6 is a complex subject, especially the counterphobic side. Being as it is that most people get their info from the internet, we have to make sure there is ample resource for people to find out about each type. It was too the point that I insisted in my own mind that there was no way I was counterphobic, no way at all. I was a Phobic 6 for months, not relating with or wanting to associate with any description of a counterphobic 6. It wasn’t til I got into a skirmish with my INFJ over something that I realized the root of the problem was i was running AT the anxiety, and that was just a thing I did. (while she runs away) I took me observing the mechanics of the thing to relate with it because the descriptions are just so intensely unrelatable. They all seem to describe an 8-ish ESTP character that I don’t relate with at all. 

At the core of the thing, a counterphobic 6 is simply a 6, that runs at sources of anxiety rather than away. HOW they do it is not set in stone. For me it might look something like this: 

There is an elephant in the room, Stacy and Robert are sitting down talking in the corner. The last time I saw them a few weeks ago, they we’re angry at me. I know them to be reasonable people but I don’t know If they’ve forgiven me since I’ve apologized. A severe anxiety overtakes me. I cannot deal with being in the same room with them and not knowing how they’re thinking of me, what they might be saying about me, and if they’re still hurt. I HAVE to go sit with them an make the first strike. I sit by them and make a lighthearted joke to see if they smile.

Now let’s compare this to what a phobic 6 might do:

There is an elephant in the room, Stacy and Robert are sitting down talking in the corner. The last time I saw them a few weeks ago, they we’re angry at me. I know them to be reasonable people but I don’t know If they’ve forgiven me since I’ve apologized. A severe anxiety overtakes me. What if they still hate me? What if they’re talking about me right now? Maybe if they don’t see me it won’t remind them… What if they walk over here and attack me!? I think I should leave… I should just go outside and avoid this altogether.

Now, I’m not saying the phobic 6 approach is worse, Not at all, its much less annoying and obnoxious. However, I don’t think people understand the distress that cp6′s feel, not just in social situations, but in general. If a cp6 feels a punishment coming they just want to take it as soon as possible to avoid the agonizing wait. The counterphobic 6, above all else, wants to put an end to their anxiety as quickly as possible by whatever means necessary. They don’t want to wait for a situation to resolve, they want to resolve it. They don’t want to wait for trouble to come, they want to go to the trouble. They would rather meet danger with wide eyes and clinched fists than have it creep up on them and stab them while their backs are turned. Idle worrying is the enemy. Fear is the Dragon unslain. They connot stand loose ends or unresolved narratives. Looming trouble is a dark cloud constantly pouring rain and it is unbearable.

I work at a Learning Center as a teachers assistant. I would like to tell you about the curious case of young Stephan. Stephan is a seemingly violent and aggressive child of about 7. I often remark to my INFJ girlfriend who works with me “Stephan is my spirit animal”. He is so aggressive towards teachers, and other children, even me. He says things, angrily like “Hey, who asked you!?” or “whatever, bub!” or “ggrrraaaaah, not (blank) again” and “*incomprehensible angry muttering to self*” He’ll attack me verbally, or threaten to beat me up and I’ll just smile and say “I’m more than twice your size, buddy” softly and nonthreatening. To which he then becomes very passive aggressive and dismissive as if he never said anything to begin with. What Stephan doesn’t want you to know is that he’s actually intensely anxious. You can tell that when he talks aggressively he is doing so feigning confidence he doesn’t have, he may stutter or trail off. There is no forcefulness in his energy, only an harsh defense disguised as an offense. He’s afraid nobody is protecting him. That we’re all here to judge him (it is a school after all) and that at the end of the day there is nothing he can really do to stop it. So he lashes out with anxious energy and feigned confidence. And I’ll tell you, as an adult of 23, of the hundreds of kids I’ve seen, I’ve never found a child I more strongly related to. 

We’re every bit of the nervous wreck of the phobic 6, but its almost as if they can “take it” better. I marvel at the phobic 6s ability to let the nervous energy stew and avoid the problem. Problems that seem a long way off can’t get here quick enough. At the end of the day, it’s not that I’m aggressive, It’s that I’m scared that I can’t know how things will play out (or if they’ll play out) unless I make them play out. I’m not trying to hurt or annoy anyone, I’m simply afraid and can’t stop myself. All I really need is to be reassured. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from anyone. Unless I get that I can’t relax, and all I want to do is relax! 

Unfortunately, most cp6′s aren’t aware they’re counterphobic, or even that they’re ruled by their anxiety. Many cp6s will not suffer the humiliation of admitting they’re anxious or uncertain. Many cp6′s are not even feelers or consciously focusing on how they feel. That’s your 8ish ESTP cp6 archetype. But for those of us who are aware and searching for answers and admitting our flaws… cut us a bit of slack. Not asking for an excuse, just reassurance that we can trust you and are well liked. A swift end to problems and anxieties is all we want and your assistance in the matter would be greatly appreciated!

Ashes, Ashes (We All Fall Down) | AU

He’s born of frozen fire. 

When the time comes to go to his father, he doesn’t. His mother made a grave mistake of making him a weapon. 

Weapons are supposed to be wood and metal and powder, not flesh and blood.

Because flesh and blood will turn on you.

Damian burns down the compound on his tenth birthday. 

He’d like to say he looked away, but he didn’t.

He travels. Not the world, in so large a perspective. In shadowed alleys. In airplanes that place their animals below. In subway stations, communities under the city. 

He is not his mother’s shining beacon. He is not her weapon, either. 

Damian goes to his father when he is thirteen. His hands are dark and scarred, grime under his fingernails. His smile is sharp. 

The others do not fear him, exactly. But he can see their concerns when he looks into their blue eyes, his face reflecting. 

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anonymous asked:

I have an excellent idea! Can u please, PLEASE, write solangelo where Nico works in a tattoo studio and Will is a shop assistant in flower shop and somehow thay meet and everything is sweet and fluffy with a bit of angst? PLEASE! I love you! ❤❤😍😘😍

I absolutely love this prompt, it was absolutely wonderful to write!!! I love you too, anon


On one side of the street was a small tattoo shop. It didn’t capture anyone’s attention unless they were really looking. Or very drunk. Inside, there was a young man in his early twenties. He had eyes that warned others of trouble, and his style of dressing didn’t help the image. He had a sleeve of tattoos on his right arm and a lip piercing. His hair was long and messy, and he always wore black.

On  the opposite side of the street was a large flower shop, owned by one of the most pretentious, condescending snobs known to anyone in that area. Nobody called her by her name. They all only referred to her as the florist.

She had an unlucky assistant whom everyone pitied. He was about a year older than the tattoo artist, and couldn’t contrast him any more than he did if he wanted to. He had golden locks adorning his sun kissed face, freckles splattered along his cheeks and nose, and the brightest blue eyes anyone had seen. He always wore lighter colors and greeted everyone with a smile that made up for his boss’s attitude.

For many months, the two never acknowledged the other. They were from separate worlds. Until mid-December.

The tattoo artist was more melancholic than usual as the date of his sister’s death came back around to refresh the agony of loss. It was the first time he would visit her grave. He never wanted to before, but after so long, he needed to be closer to her, somehow. He didn’t want to go empty handed. So he stopped by the flower shop he’d heard so much about.

The second he walked in, the florist’s nose scrunched up like she was smelling a pile on dung and her mouth puckered like she was sucking on a lemon. “Can I help you?” she asked slowly, as though the young man was too slow to understand her.

“I was looking for flowers,” he responded, accustomed to the sneer.

“Obviously,” she replied, grimacing as she looked him up and down. The assistant paused as he wrapped a bouquet in its plastic. “What kind of flowers?”

“I don’t know,” the tattoo artist enunciated, keeping his temper under control.

“Then you are wasting my time. Leave my store.”

Before he could snap at her, the assistant interfered, “Sir, I could help you. Don’t worry Miss, I’ll handle it.” The florist scowled again and turned away to shut herself in her office. “I apologize,” said the assistant in a soothing voice. “She’s not a people person. What are the flowers for?”

Shifting on his feet uncomfortably, the tattooed trouble maker responded, “For a grave. My sister’s grave.”

The bright blue eyes that were so welcoming dimmed slightly. “I see,” he said. It was refreshing not to hear “I’m sorry” like everyone else said when this topic came up. “Well, many times, white flowers are used for death. Roses, orchids, irises, lilies, t-”

“She liked lilies,” he answered.

“There we go. Come right over here.” He moved around the counter and passed him closely enough to smell the sharp disinfectant scent of the tattoo shop. Meanwhile, the tattoo artist was enveloped in the aroma of cocoa butter and honey.  “These are the lilies. Pick the ones you want, and I’ll wrap them up for you.” The tattoos on his arm stood out as he picked amongst the white flowers, captivating the assistant. He wondered at their meaning and if he’d done them himself. “Did those hurt?” he asked, standing aside.

Warm chocolate brown eyes drifted from the tattoos to the resplendent sky blue eyes. “Not more than it must hurt to work with that woman,” he answered. “You’re too kind to be with such a venomous person.”

The assistant blushed slightly and shook his head. “She’s had it rough. She’s actually a good person. But nobody takes the time to realize it.” When the raven haired mystery boy snorted, he couldn’t help but say, “I would think you knew what that’s like. Being judged before you have a chance to show what you’re like?”

With an eyebrow raised, the tattoo artist gave him the flowers to wrap. As he did so, he responded, “Maybe the first impression is right.”

“So you’re telling me you’re a dangerous trouble maker with no regards to other’s feelings?” He handed the flowers over.

His eyes narrowed. “Is that what you see?”

“No,” he assured, not feeling at all threatened. “But I know it’s what everyone else does.”

For a second they just stared at each other. Then he handed a fifty dollar bill to pay. “Keep the change,” he muttered, leaving before the assistant could protest.

That day, the tattoo artist dropped off the flowers at the grave. The next day when he went to open his shop, he saw a flower with several long thin petals and a note attached. Aster, symbolizes patience. The next day he saw a flower that looked similar to a lily, only it had overlapping petals. The note read Amaryllis, symbolizes worth beyond looks. Every day that week, he found a new flower. For hope, to encourage happiness, symbolizes courage, symbolizes resilience.

Finally, at the end of the week, he closed his shop early and waited for the florist to close her shop. The assistant walked out of the flower shop and immediately, he left his own to catch up. “Hey,” he called. The blond stopped and turned. “Why have you been leaving flowers at my door?” But there was no response. Not verbal, at least. Just a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Will,” he responded. “What’s yours troublemaker?”

“Nico,” he answered. “And I’m not a troublemaker… usually.”

Will smiled at him. “I know that,” he answered. “Now that we know each other’s name… do you want to go out for a coffee? It’s pretty cold out here.” Nico smiled and bit his lip. He walked with Will to a coffee shop where they sat for a long time talking about nothing and everything.

He found Will’s laugh warm and bright, more so than his smile. He admired the way his eyes gleamed when he smiled, which was often. He enjoyed counting the freckles splattered along his skin. Enjoyed making him blush and bite the inside of his cheek nervously.

Will was fascinated by the ebony eyes that seemed to brighten when they looked at him. He saw the kinder, sweeter version of the boy with tattoos that he was certain nobody else saw. He found him quite adorable despite the hard edge he seemed to have. And he enjoyed making him smile, because he was certain he didn’t do so very often.

Nico walked him home, surprised with how close he lived to their jobs. Before he could go inside, Nico grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait,” he said. Will turned to look at him, surprised. “I’m not dangerous. I’m not a trouble maker. But God help me, I’m reckless and impulsive.” And before Will could respond, Nico pressed his lips gently against his. When he wasn’t pushed away, he pressed a little harder, took Will’s lower lip between his. He slid a hand behind his neck and Will’s arms curved around his torso.

When they finally pulled apart they were both blushing and smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Will said quietly. He slipped into his apartment, and Nico went home.

The next day, he found a red rose and a red carnation at the studio door. A note strung them together with a single word:

Passion.

Prisoner (Baekhyun Scenario) Part 3/3

Part One | Part Two


I still haven’t quite wrapped my head around what happened with Baekhyun last night. After being terrified of a man that never showed any emotion, spoke in a cold tone each day, throwing his gun on the table as if it was a toy… it’s quite hard to believe that last night, that same man actually had a soft side.

Why is it, that when he put his arms around me and held me close, did I feel safe? Safe in the arms of a dangerous man that has killed many people without hesitance? Call me crazy, but even I do not understand why I felt so.

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@tomahawk-swing || x

“They said they knew you well, and that you attacked a guy because he rejected you or something … They were clearly trying to threaten me, but I don’t care. I judge only what I see, and I don’t care what you did in the past.”

“ frick, why did they have to say that of all things… but wait, how was saying that threatening? i mean, if anything, it should be threatening me since it’s like… my past and all. how’s that threatening you? ”

Prove It (8/?) [Ft. Reader x Loki]

Summary: Loki receives a marriage proposal from a young princess and accepts, becoming King of his own realm. However, he gets more than he bargains for as he learns that the kingdom has more than meets the eye and he finds himself in the middle of something sinister. What will he do when he falls in love with his wife and her life is at risk?…


Originally posted by theredladyy


Prove It - Masterlist

Warnings: Semi graphic violence.


This is all so new and exciting to you as you take in all Ambreathia has to offer, you skip along a dirt path through a colorful forest. You begin to hum and the entire forest begins to glow, you spin around as the glowing colors merge together. You laugh and stop humming / spinning, the glow of the forest fades but you don’t notice.

Everything is so colorful and full of life, birds are chirping up in the tress as their branches dance in the soft wind. Your fingers brush over plants that are growing out of the ground, they feel so soft against your skin. You rush ahead when you see a bridge, holding onto the rails you lean over and marvel at the stream below you.

It’s so clear that you can see the rocks on the bottom, you look to the side of you and pick a flower from a plant and drop it. You smiled when it floats downstream and you walk across the bridge. You stop and look up at the branches of the trees, they stopped moving.

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What Are Brothers For? (Scarlet Heart Ryeo!)

Type: Fluff/Angst

Request: Hello!! Can I have a scenarios where you are their little sister and the princes all dote on you a lot? And you have lots of aegyo as well! The king was going to marry you off but you didn’t want to, and you try to aegyo your way out and the princes help you convince the king too?


“What?” you ask your father with wide eyes almost spitting hot your tea. You were his youngest daughter and you were being married off before Yeon-Hwa was. You frowned “I don’t want to marry a prince from a far away land. I’d rather marry Yo” you say as your father gives you a look “I’m kidding Yo is not for me” you say. Yo was your biological brother along with So and Jung and your mother was Queen Yoo. “Don’t dishonor our family. This is how we will link our two nations together” he says “why not Yeon-Hwa?” you whine with a pout.

“You’re closest to the crown princes age” he tells you “I’m 16″ you say. You had a idea flick into your and as you two look at each other as you put on your puppy eyes “father” you say cutely. “Ah get out of here” he says as you groan getting up stomping your feet the whole way out “you’re a grown woman” he calls as you groan even louder. You pushed the door opened and it smack with force into someone’s face. “Won?” you asks as you look down at your half brother and closest sibling, who was laying on the ground. “I wanted to make sure you were alright. You were kind of tugged off in the middle of our walk” he spoke. You two were having a discussion about his wives and just marriage in general. Nothing you had real interest in but since your brother was to marry you were curious.

“I’m getting married” you say nervously as he grabs your arms and smiles “my little sister is getting married-” “I’m leaving home and going to a far away land” you whimper as his smile drops. “Father wants you to leave?” he asks. “Please don’t tell the others” you beg as fear fills your eyes “you have to tell your brothers” as you looked at him “I told one of my siblings” you clarify as he rolls his eyes. “Please” you say giving him your famous doll eyes “ah you always know how to talk me out of things” he spoke wrapping his arm around your shoulder tugging you close.

~

“Father wants her to leave?” Jung asks in a sad reality that his sister was leaving. “I don’t know if he wants her to but she’s the closest to the crown prince’s age” Won clarifies. They all glanced out from the pavilion they were under to see you with your eyes closed and they guessed you were sleeping in the garden. “She’s the good one though” Eun whispers as he’s hit by Wook lightly. You were very much like Eun which caught the attention of many men from the land and other. Just the typical cute innocent girl it seemed. “She wanted Yeon-Hwa to go in her place. Even did the cute meltdown thing to get what she wants” Won continues Yeon-Hwa let’s out a scoff. “She made me promise not to tell you all but I had too” he says as they nod.

Soon Won felt a rock hit his head he hissed before he froze turning to see you standing by the bridge that linked the land and the pavilion, tossing a rock up and down. Fear filled him as you began making your way over. “You should keep your promises” you said stabbing him in the chest with your finger. “You shouldn’t keep secrets from your brothers” Yo protested back. “Its none of your businesses only reason he knows is because I hit him with the door” you tell them as you crossed your arms and began walking away before So grabbed you. “It is our business. You’re our sister” he spoke, Yeon-Hwa looked at the scene rolling her eyes and begins to walk away.

So was the only brother you didn’t know as well as you’d liked to but you never judged him for his appearance like the others. He pulled you back before placing both hands onto your shoulders. “Do you think if I did what Soo did I will be able to stay?” you asked remembering how your friend got out of marrying your father. They all instantly protested before Baek-ah hit you upside the head. “Don’t be stupid” Wook threatens.

“We all seem to forget what are little sister has the power of” So spoke as a light smile came to his face following a head tilt “manipulation" he says before he continues. “You can charm father into letting you stay. Your normal thing you do when you want something should work and if it doesn’t we’ll be there to support you” So continues. “You’d do all that?” you ask as you closed your eyes. “We love you sister of course we would” Jung says as a shaky smile comes to your face.

~

“My father I do not wish to marry him” you say after he gave you premission to speak. He sighs as he looks at you, your face had a plan and determination written all over it “daughter-what are you planning?” he asks he was slightly scared to find out. “Father I don’t wish to marry the prince” you spoke again as your brothers watched closely. Their kings and his favorite child argue. Your brain began firing off rapidly of ideas until one blurted out “if you make me do it… I’ll I’ll I’ll hold my breath” you threaten. He raised his brow “this won’t change my mind” he spoke as you gave him a ‘really’ look before taking a large gulp of air and proceeded to hold your breath.

“My king” Won says, your father turns to him “I don’t think the prince is suitable for our princess. He’s said to be a cruel boy, I don’t mean to speak to you out of term but is that what you want for your youngest daughter?” he spoke. Most of the princes were focused on you, you had been holding your breath for a while now. The king looked at you “child” he spoke as you looked at him “breath” he ordered as you gasped loudly.

Your heart was beating fast as you looked at him “I’m more concerned you’re not mature to handle a marriage” he spoke as a large smile came onto your face. The room filled with sighs of relief “thank you my king” you spoke as you bowed. Something came over you as you rushes up to him and hugged him before you realized and pulled away. You cleared your throat “I’m very sorry” you spoke before he let out a laugh.

~

You walked out with a large smile while your brothers stayed to have a word listen to the king. That’s when you had decided to wondered off. So when they came out the noticed you weren’t there so they split up to find you. Soon enough when you were alone decently far from away, let out a loud cheer before you let out a large sigh of happiness. You heard someone clear their throat. You turned to see your brother Yo standing there “holding your breath?” he teased. “It worked when I was younger” you mumbled. “It only worked because you would faint” he spoke. “Thank you” you spoke as you two stood quietly “for? I didn’t do anything” he spoke. “You say that but your eyes talk. You were scared for me” you say “I wasn’t scared for you” he tries to defend.

You wrapped him in a hug burring yourself into his chest as you began to cry. You were very much scared of what would’ve happened to you without your brothers. He patted you back lightly “you should be thanking Won” he tells you. You pulled away wiping your eyes as he points behind you both and you turn.

You smiled as you see your brothers standing there. You grab Yo’s hand as you rushed over going straight to Won. “Thank you” you say bowing before turning to So “thank you” you say doing the same. “Say it cuter” So spoke as you gave it a questionable look. “You’re known to be cute” Won teases. “Thank you” you say in a childish voice as you rock on your heels. Eun cooed and wrapped you in a hug. You felt more pressure as you were hugged by your all brothers and a smile had been on your face the whole time.

Indulge Me

Word count: 1647

Author’s note: This idea came to me while I was watching this guy, then I found his name and watched another one of his videos, which eventually became the setting of this plot. I know I have requests pending, but I had to write this, I hope you understand! Love you all, and thank you for the support I have been given! <333 p.s. Just because a lot of you have been telling me how much you love college AUs, I sneaked some of it into this, too. c:

Warnings: language

Your name: submit What is this?


“Another one?” asks the bartender, leaning over the counter to be able to hear my answer over the loud music. I nod.

“Yeah, thanks.” When he puts two glasses on the bar, I shake my head and show him my index finger, saying, “Just one this time.”

“Oh?” he quirks an attractive half smile at me. “How come?”

“My boyfriend’s been missing for like ten minutes. I got tired of waiting for him.” The bartender acknowledges my reply with a sole curt nod.

“Same?”

“Yeah.”

He begins preparing the Mojito for me; he places a glass on the black counter, putting two spoons of sugar in it, grabs a slice of lime and the glass, throws it up behind himself, only to catch it in his left hand after casting the slice up in the air, too. He catches the fruit with the glass, which he then puts back on the counter. He pulls out some mint leafs, smacks them between his palms and twirls them around the top of the glass before dropping them inside.

What he does next is squeezing the ingredients with a stick, then small splinters of ice jingle as he pours the glass full of them. He puts on a show of pouring the alcohol into a metal cup, even playing with the bottle a bit, throwing it up in the air, letting it twist around and rolling down his arm, where he shoves it up and softly hits it with his elbow, sending it spinning again, catching it and balancing it precariously on his forearm.

Once he’s done, he puts the bottle away and grabs another drink, which makes a brief hissing noise as he gets rid of its cap with his thumb, then pours its entire content into the glass. He ruffles the ingredients a bit with a long spoon, puts some more ice splinters on it, then finishes up by delicately placing another set of mint leafs on the side and inserting two black straws into the drink.

As the bartender puts the serving in front of me, doesn’t fail to shoot a half-smile at me.

“So,” I start, taking a sip of my cocktail. “How come you’re such an artiste?” He chuckles, wiping away the spare ices that scattered over the counter when he added the final touches to the Mojito. He’s not occupied with other customers now, so he can talk to me.

“It’s just collateral encore,” he hedges, shrugging. “Gotta pay for the tuition fee somehow.”

“You’re a student?” I ask, taken aback. He nods, that smile on his lips again.

“Yeah,” he says. “Law major. You?”

“Do I look like a student, too? I’m actually older.” For the first time since I slid on one of the stools, his smile falters and disappears. I can’t help the giggle that escapes my mouth at his puzzled expression. “Just kidding. I’m also a student.”

He cocks his head to the side playfully, shoulders lifted as he’s propping himself, asking, “Will you tell me what you’re studying?”

“Literature,” I answer, sipping some more from the drink. He opens his mouth again, about to continue our conversation, but his smile fades away in a blink of an eye, his body emerging from his casual stance, and he looks like someone who’s seen a ghost. My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend?” he asks, jerking his chin towards a spot over my shoulder. My frown deepens as I turn around to see what he sees.

When I glimpse him, I nearly fall off my stool.

“What the Hell,” I whisper, throat tight and practically choking on air. I stand on wobbly legs, not letting go of the edge of the counter to steady myself. I vaguely register as the bartender asks if I’m okay, but I can’t find it me to respond.

I hurtle my way through the crowd, stumbling every step of the way, my body like a helpless puppet against other people’s dancing bodies.

I smack the back of my boyfriend’s head, not caring that it collides against the face of the unknown girl he’s making out with. He whips around angrily, aggressively even, until he notices who interrupted them. Despite the myriad of colours, I can see crystal clear as his face goes pale. He immediately proceeds to explain himself, but I pull my arm away when he tries to hold me back.

“Don’t touch me!” I growl at him angrily, already on my way to leave.

“Baby, it was just an –”

“Accident?” I spit out the word, swivelling around on my heels to look him in the eye, my gaze blazing with bounded rage. “I’m sure you just stumbled, that’s why you had her pushed against the wall while making out.”

“Babe, it’s just the alcohol it’s –”

“Don’t blame it on the alcohol,” I snarl furiously. “Leave me alone.”

Without any more ado, I make a beeline back for the bar, sliding on the stool that the bartender reserved for me while I was away. He gives me a concerned look as he’s wiping a glass clean with a white cotton cloth. I bury half of my face in my palm as I tell him, “Make me forget about him.”

He grins at me cheekily. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

He pours out the strongest alcohol for me, which I realize with a start is also the most expensive here. I proceed to protest, but he cuts me off, “It’s on me.”

“Thanks,” I accept. I figure I should at least introduce myself in return for his kindness. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Derek,” he answers, an involuntary half-smile blossoming back to his handsome face. He nods towards the shot. “Come on, drink up.” I don’t even think about obeying him, my body does it on its own accord. Derek props himself on the high countertop, muscles straining against the black button-up tee he’s wearing, impressive shoulders outlined under the black V-neck vest he has on. A canine fang is hanging in his neck on a thin black leather choker, resting in the dip between his collarbones. The lights around highlight his mesmerizing eyes. “I have to say he was lucky.”

“Why?” I ask, face still contorted into a grimace by the thick alcohol that’s burning my throat. I reach for my Mojito to soothe the hot ache in my gullet.

“Because his girlfriend didn’t put on a whiny show.”

“Ex-girlfriend, if you will,” I correct him, but immediately proceed to apologize. “I’m sorry, that was too harsh.”

He shakes his head, “No, it’s fine.” His eyes land on someone who’s approaching, a wide grin spreading on his lips. Derek reaches over the bar to greet his pal with a handshake. It sends the scent of his cologne in my way. “Hey, Scott. Want anything before you go to work?”

“No, but thanks, man.” Scott gives me the impression of a lost, harmless puppy, what with his huge dark eyes and innocent smile. “Have a nice night.”

“You, too,” Derek wishes, watching as he goes to switch places with the current DJ.

Soft smoke is creeping around us and behind Derek where the glasses are hanging upside down and numerous bottles are standing on an enlightened shelf, coloured by the lights that slowly melt into each other. The sight of it all has me enchanted, but I’m hauled out of it when someone abruptly grabs my shoulder from behind.

“We need to talk,” says Patrick. I jerk away from his touch.

“We have nothing to talk about,” I dismiss him, sipping from my Mojito.

“Babe, listen, we –”

“Leave her alone,” comes from the other side of the bar, low voice threatening and sinister. Patrick gives Derek a judging once-over.

You leave her alone,” fights back Patrick. “You have no idea what our relationship is like.”

“You missed the tense, baby, I’m afraid,” I say mockingly, twirling the glass on the ebony counter. Both boys look at me, then Patrick asks, “What?” I roll my eyes. “We’re no longer together, so don’t talk about out past relationship like we were still a couple. Thanks.”

“No, you’re not ending this so easily,” Patrick pushes, but Derek interrupts him.

“Cut the shit,” he snaps. “Clearly she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh yeah? What do you know about us?”

“You? Nothing,” he shrugs. “But I do realize it when someone makes a gargantuan mistake. If I were you, I wouldn’t have the guts to come back pleading to her – I have dignity. But then again, you obviously can’t tell the same about yourself; people with the slightest bit of self-esteem won’t cheat on their partner.”

“Shut up, douchebag,” Patrick threatens, but Derek won’t have it.

“I know that they say barking dogs seldom bite, but trust me – I’m more of a wolf myself, and if someone pisses me off, I won’t refrain from ripping their throat out after one warning.” To emphasize his words, Derek deliberately leans over the counter again just to show Patrick his impressive set of bulging muscles. “My shift ends in thirty. We can finish this outside once I’m free if you want.”

Patrick actually swallows at that. He starts inching backwards, until he eventually leaves. I smile at Derek.

“I honestly owe you more than a simple thank you now.”

He chuckles. “You really don’t.”

Derek goes to take someone else’s order, and while he’s preparing their serving, I finish off mine. I leave his charge on the bar next to the empty glass, sliding off the stool, but before I could walk away, I’m stopped by a hand on my upper arm. When I turn around, I see Derek’s pale green eyes fixing me.

“Will you be back?” I smile at him coyly.

“Should I come back?”

The corner of Derek’s mouth curls up into a smirk. “Definitely.”

Imagine being Rafael’s boss (Part Two)

(A/N: So this is for @esparza-scanavino, who requested this such a long time ago and I completely forgot. I’m so sorry you had to wait so long. Though hopefully this makes up for it and while I was writing this I came up with a part three. Which is completely different to these two. So I hope you’ll enjoy that too when I write it. Which will be much sooner because I feel so bad for making you wait so long. Sorry I haven’t posted in a while either. I got my exam results on Thursday and let’s just say they went really well, so I was a bit busy celebrating. Anyway though, you probably don’t care. Hope you all enjoy!) 

Part One Here 

Part Three Here

Imagine being Rafael’s boss (Part Two)

“You know when I asked you to get me out of my dinner with the mayor. I assumed you’d ask me to a bar and not a police station.” you commented as soon as the doors of the elevator opened to reveal Rafael waiting for you.

You stepped out the elevator, waiting for Rafael’s response but he was too busy staring at you. Clearly distracted.

“Rafael.” you snapped hoping to bring him back to reality.

“Sorry, I just never seen you dressed like that.” he apologised, focusing again, and beginning to lead you through the station.

You had just rushed out of an official dinner hosted by the Mayor. It was a dinner for city administrators, politicians, council men and women and you the DA. Evidently, you were the youngest person in attendance. It was a black tie event, and you were dressed accordingly. You were wearing a red, off the shoulder dress with heels higher than what should be legal. Let’s just say you were more of a low key person. You only ever dressed like this when you had too.

“And don’t you expect it to ever happen again.” you shuddered jokingly.

“So was your mission successful?” he asked referring to your earlier conversation that day regarding  the dinner you had just attended.

“You mean the mission where are used more than just my powers of persuasion to ensure we don’t experience any more budget cuts? Oh yeah.” you chuckled.

“I can see why.” he commented string you around the busy precinct.

“I know right?” you chuckled, “I feel like a pimp, except I’m doing it to myself.”

“Have I mentioned, how great of a boss, you are?” he asked understanding what he was getting at.

“Not in this hour.” you winked, “Why did you call me down here?”

“Because of this.” he motioned as you reached the interrogation room window.

“Is that ADA Gavin Henderson from Buffalo with his nineteen year old son?” you asked taking a deep breath.

“Yes.” he answered.

“What is it with you and this department, arresting everyone who I have to be nice to’s kids?” you asked sighing.

“We don’t do it on purpose.” he reassured.

‘Sure as hell feels like it though,” you sighed once again leaning against the wall and watching them in the box, “What’s he done?”

“Rape and first degree murder.” he informed.

“What have you got on him?” you questioned filling threw the arrest reports.

“He and the victim both attended Hudson University. He liked the victim, victim rejected him, he got mad. The victim’s roommate said he was following her and sending her threatening messages.” he continued to inform.

“And you have evidence of this?” you questioned looking at him.

“Right here.” he said handing you the text log.

“You’re a filthy slut. You’re going to get what’s coming to you.” you read aloud, “Any direct threats?”

“Not exactly.” he answered.

“So, he can just say he sent this out of bad judgement due to the rejection. He can say he didn’t actually mean it and a judge will believe it because he doesn’t say he’d going to give her what’s coming. He just says she will get whats coming. Which could easily mean she falls and scraps her knee.  What else have you got?” you questioned.

“He hasn’t got an alibi for the time of the attack.” he said.

“What does he say he was doing.” you asked.

“Out jogging. Apparently, he does it everyday.” Rafael informed.

“Everyday? Okay, if we break his alibi. His father will plea out, for the chance for his son to see daylight again. What about the DNA evidence?” you questioned.

“He’s not in the system.” Rafael began.

“Damn.” you muttered.

“But I got the lab to test for a familial match for the sample his Father submitted to the State Bar Association upon passing the bar.” he continued.

“And?” you prompted impressed.

“It’s a match.” he finished.

“I knew their was a reason I hired you.” you commented.

“You didn’t hire me.” he corrected.

“Fine, their is a reason I keep you around.” you winked, “How do you want to play this?”

“Aren’t you going in?” he asked.

“Yeah, we both are.” you answered “The only reason you haven’t destroyed him yet is because he’s Daddy asked for me.”

“So what do you suggest?” he inquired.

“Tag team.” you stated.

“Let’s do it.” he said opening the integration room door for you.

As you walked in, ADA Henderson, stood up. Obviously, Rafael had kept in here for a while. He looked frustrated beyond belief. Probably, knows his son is guilty. His son, Leo, remained seated. Hands clasped on the desk with his head down.

“ADA Henderson, it’s nice to see you again.” you smiled extending a hand to him.

“Likewise DA Y/L/N, though I had hoped it be under better circumstances.” he greeted taking your hand.

“Hmm, so what seems to be the problem?” you asked sitting down and gesturing him to do the same.
Rafael was waiting, behind you, leaning against the mirror.

“Didn’t ADA Barba, tell you?” he asked.

“No, I you could probably guess by my attire. I just left a dinner with the mayor but when Barba called me. I assumed you’d want this cleared up as soon as possible. And I knew you’d give me details anyway. So please, tell me, what is the problem?” you repeated maintaining the smile on your face.

You and Rafael,remained silent as he retold his son’s version of events. At the end you asked Rafael for the file you’d already looked through. Pretending you hadn’t.

“Well I can see why the detectives brought you in. It does look bad but we can get this cleared up quickly. If Leo agrees to answer my questions.” you suggested as you leaned back in chair, flipping complacently.through it.

“Yes, of course. He’ll answer whatever.” Henderson quickly agreed giving his a harsh nudge.

His Son seemed nervous, suspicious. Kept his head down. Only looked up after his Father’s agreement. You tossed Rafael a wink as you threw your head back at him when you tucked in your chair.

“Alright, Leo. Where did you meet the victim?” you asked casually.

“We have Geology together at Hudson.’ He choked out.

“So you met in class, you asked her out, she rejected you, you threatened her and now she’s dead.” you continued looking for confirmation

“He’ll admit to sending the messages in an error of judgement but that doesn’t result in murder.” his father interjected frantically.

“It’s okay Gavin. I’m not insinuating anything. I can understand the messages. Rejection is hard. I should know. I rejected tons of guys in college. It always made me feel bad about how upset they got about it. Though, I will say this. None of them ever got angry.” you speculated calmly.

“I was mad but I’m not anymore.” Leo whispered.

“Well she’s dead. It’s hard to be mad at a corpse,” you commented, “ So you say you were jogging at the time of the murder?”

“Yeah. I jog everyday.” he nodded.

“Really?” you asked in shock surprise, “You know me and Mr Barba here do too. Everyday.”

“That’s cool.” he nodded awkwardly.

“Yeah, it is. So where do you jog?” you inquired.

“The park.” he stated with fake confidence.

“Which one? Battery or Central?” you asked.

“Central.” he said quickly, too quickly.

“So you we. Don’t we?” you asked turning around to ask Rafael.

“Yes, everyday central park. The A trail.” he lied as he sat down next to you.

“You must know the A trail.” you smiled looking back at Leo.
“Or are you more of Luncheon hill man?” Rafael asked casually.

“Ugh. A trail.” he agreed.

“Right, do you do the whole trail or do half and cut through the Lincoln tunnel?” you questioned.

“Is this really necessary?” Henderson interjected once again.

“Just trying to establish where your Son was. If we can we could use security footage to support his alibi. So which one?” you continued to probe.

“Half and the cut through.” he quickly agreed once again.

“How long you lived in New York?” Rafael questioned.

“Just over a year.” He replied.

“Long enough to know, if you were really a jogger, that we just completely lied to you.” you smiled.

“What…?” he asked confused.

“You weren’t jogging in the park were you. You were busy strangling her to death.” you accused producing a crime scene picture from the file.

“And all because she rejected you.” Rafael added.

“Alright, maybe he wasn’t jogging. He was in the park, taking a walk. A claim that you can’t prove or disprove.” his Father interrupted.

“Plausible, but you know what you can’t explain. The DNA we collected from under our victims nails na drape kit, which by the way match your son.” Rafael countered sliding over the DNA profile as he leaned back in his chair.

“He didn’t give you any DNA.” his Father reminded.

“Didn’t need too. We have yours courtesy of the State Bar association.” you smiled.

“It’s a familial match.” Rafael elaborated.

“So unless you have another son or you’d like to admit to it. We have no other option but to charge your Son with rape and murder.”  you finished.

Henderson looked at his son in defeat, before leaning in.

“What do you want?” Henderson sighed, nursing his temple.

“What do we want ADA Barba?” you asked looking at Rafael.

“A full confession and maybe we can negotiate a plea. That allows your son the possibility of parole.” Rafael offered.

Henderson agreed, hoping to save his reputation. You left them after finalising the confession and sending the boy off to central booking. You were watching him being escorted. When Rafael appeared by your side.

“Thanks for coming down so quickly.” Rafael thanked.

“No need for that. You did save me from an incredibly boring dinner.” you chuckled.

“Still, it’s a waste of your time, really. You’ve got more important things to deal with.” Rafael stated sympathetically.

“Like I always say. It’s my job to solve my ADA’s problems. And anyway, I miss the ADA life. The mystery solving and prosecuting. “ you reassured nostalgically.

“I know you do. How about I treat you to a drink to console you?” he asked slightly hopeful.

“A drink? When I’m dressed like this? You’re taking me to dinner.” you corrected.

“At the bar?“ he tried again.

“No at an actual restaurant. We waiters and expectations.” you corrected once again.

“After all the things I been dragging you into recently, anything you want.” he agreed.

“Okay, so we can eat at one restaurant and go another for dessert?” you questioned skeptical.

“As you wish.” he sighed.

You chuckled and stuck your tongue out at him as you linked arms and began walking out the precinct.

A Promise

TianShan oneshot

Mentions/attempt at sexual assault. Not as bad as it seems. Ends with fluff.

Enjoy <3


“You need money, right? Stop being so damn stingy.”

“Leave me alone.”

Guan Shan’s face burned, humiliation rising in his gut. He tried again to push off the wall and walk around the man, but a hand on his chest shoved him back. His head hit the brick wall with a snap and stars erupted before his eyes.

“This is exactly why your old man’s in jail. He didn’t have a backbone, either. Now just stay still.”

Hands reached for his belt, and panic leapt in his throat.

“No–Quit it–”

“Hush it! You’re nice to us, we’re nice to you, understand? Then maybe I won’t pay a visit to your mom tomorrow, if you know what I mean–”

Mo Guan Shan shoved at the man in horror. 

A fist hit his face and pain erupted in his jaw. Tears grew in his eyes and he didn’t move as the man pushed him back against the wall, undoing his jeans, while helplessness seeped into him.

Not his mom.

Anything but that.

Guan Shan swallowed and closed his eyes, setting his throbbing jaw as he heard the man undo his own belt and zipper, trying to quell his disgust.

Before him, the man gave a yelp and Guan Shan tensed. But then the hands disappeared from him and the sound of scuffles and fists hitting skin erupted. Guan Shan’s eyes shot open, and he froze in shock and horror.

The man was thrown to the ground, staring up at his assailant.

That tall, lean frame and dark hair were unmistakable.

“H-He Tian…”

He Tian didn’t seem to hear him.

“Get out of here,” he growled at Guan Shan’s attacker. 

The gangster stumbled to his feet, his face bright red with rage as he spluttered.

“Do you know who I am? Do you know what I can do?!”

“I don’t care,” He Tian bit out, “Get out of here.”

Guan Shan stepped forward, grabbing He Tian’s arm.

His attacker’s burning eyes and threat towards his mom still rang in his ears.

“He Tian, don’t,” he begged, “Just go. This isn’t your fight.”

He Tian finally tilted his head, those coal dark eyes finding Mo Guan Shan’s and freezing him in place. They grazed over the bruise on Guan Shan’s jaw that was no doubt turning purple, and then trailed lower. Guan Shan flushed when he realized his jeans were still unbuttoned.

“The kid’s coming with me,” the gangster spat.

He Tian’s eyes flashed as his head snapped back to the man, and the sight made Mo Guan Shan release his arm, stepping back as a tremor of fear ran down his spine. Even the man stiffened once that horrid, ice-cold gaze turned to him.

Mo Guan Shan had never seen He Tian like this. 

“Like hell he is,” He Tian said, and took a step forward before Guan Shan could stop him, “You don’t know who I am. I could have you strung up in the harbor before anyone would call looking for you. Your body would be bruised and bloodied beyond description with just one call. And if that’s not fast enough for my liking, I’ll handle it myself. And believe me, you lecherous pig… you don’t want that. So I suggest you leave my sight while you still have legs to walk on.”

There was a heavy pause.

Then the man’s beady eyes turned to Mo Guan Shan and narrowed. Nonetheless, he turned and hurried off, disappearing quicker than a blink around the corner.

Guan Shan stared after him.

It was only then he realized that he was shaking.

Slowly He Tian turned, and the coal black eyes found his again.

Gone was the ice from before; now they were soft and warm, more so than Guan Shan had ever seen them.

“Are you hurt?” he murmured.

Guan Shan flushed and turned to zip up his pants. When he turned back, he was surprised to see that He Tian had looked away. The fact comforted him a little for some unknown reason.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Guan Shan muttered.

He Tian shrugged.

“C’mon,” he said, nodding to the other side of the alley, “Come back to my place and make us some dinner.”

Us.

Still, Mo Guan Shan shook his head.

The thought of being with a man alone after…

“No. I don’t–I need to go home. To my mom.”

He Tian observed him for a moment. Guan Shan braced himself for anger.

What he received instead was a small nod, and He Tian started off. Guan Shan blinked before hesitantly following him.

After a brief, awkward silence, He Tian spoke.

“Who was that man?”

“Look, dude, I don’t wanna talk about–”

“I need to know.”

He Tian’s voice left no room for argument, and Guan Shan glanced at him. that hard look was back, but it wasn’t directed at him.

Guan Shan sighed.

“A guy my dad used to roll with. Dumped him before he went to jail though ‘cause all his other friends didn’t like him. Said he was into some real shady stuff…”

Guan Shan barely suppressed a shiver. He dug his hands in his pockets, hoping He Tian hadn’t noticed their trembling.

“You were going to go with him.”

There was a new edge to He Tian’s voice; an accusing one.

Mo Guan Shan stiffened and sent him a glare.

“Yeah,” he bit out, flushing, “Yeah, I probably was. And it’s none of your damn–”

He Tian spun around so fast that Guan Shan barely had time to stop before their chests slammed together. The taller man loomed over him, and another shiver–this time of fear or excitement or maybe a bit of both, Guan Shan wasn’t sure–ran down the smaller man’s spine.

He Tian’s eyes bore into him.

“Why?” He Tian hissed, “Surely you’re not that desperate. I’ve been giving you money–”

Guan Shan shoved He Tian’s chest.

The other man barely budged, but Guan Shan didn’t care.

“Shut the fuck up, dude! You don’t know me. You don’t know my life, okay? Just because you think you’re giving me charity or something doesn’t mean you own me or some shit. Besides, I’m not that kinda person, but–he threatened my mom.”

Guan Shan’s anger faltered a little at these words, and his heart ached at the thought of her. Of what she would think of him. Of what she would say if she knew what had just happened–about what could have happened.

Guan Shan’s stomach turned.

“So don’t judge me,” his whispered.

There was a pause. Fingers touched Guan Shan’s chin and his breath hitched, his hand immediately coming up to push it away. 

He didn’t, though, as his and He Tian’s eyes met. His hand hung suspended beneath He Tian’s, as if unsure what to do.

“I’m not judging you,” He Tian said softly.

His breath hit Guan Shan’s lower breath and his eyes dropped to He Tian’s lips. Their kiss flashed in his mind and Guan Shan blushed, nudging He Tian’s hand from under his chin. To his surprise, He Tian immediately dropped his hand.

“Whatever,” Guan Shan murmured, unable to look He Tian in the eye. Now all he could think about was the last time they had met, and He Tian’s tongue in his mouth and his lips against his.

Then he thought about if that old gangster had tried to kiss him.

He shuddered and felt the sudden urge to bathe himself until he was raw and red.

“Thanks, I guess. For doing that. But you shouldn’t have fucked with him.”

“He shouldn’t have fucked with you.”

Guan Shan laughed mirthlessly.

“What am I gonna do?” he asked.

“Call me.”

Guan Shan lifted his head to snap back, but He Tian’s intense gaze once again made the words catch on the tip of his tongue. They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Promise you’ll call me if you have trouble with anyone like that again,” He Tian stated.

“…Are you serious?”

“I’m not leaving until you promise me.”

“But why? What does this have to do with you?”

He Tian shrugged.

“Your business is my business,” he said.

Guan Shan glared even as his face warmed, something in those words making a ball of heat curl in his stomach.

“No it’s not.”

“Just promise me, Guan Shan.”

The use of his name made Mo Guan Shan stiffen, and he eyed He Tian.

“…Fine. I promise. Happy?”

He Tian’s thin lips turned into a smile, and Guan Shan really wished he would stop noticing things like that.

“Ecstatic.”

Guan Shan rolled his eyes and moved past him, ready to shake off today and try to think of an excuse to give his mom for this newest bruise.

It only took him a few steps to realize that there were more footsteps than his, and Guan Shan glanced over his shoulder.

“What the hell?” he asked He Tian, who was following at only a feet, “I thought you were gonna leave me alone if I promised you.”

He Tian smiled.

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t walk you home before I left you?”

Guan Shan huffed and turned, picking up his pace, if only to hide the blush and try to ignore the way the ball of heat in his stomach grew to his chest, and burned with what he could almost mistake for happiness.

Family Affair

Imagine being the youngest Winchester and having a piece of shit abusive boyfriend, but your brothers take care of you when something happens.

Warnings: It’s long as shit, Angst, brother fluff, abusive piece of shit moment, a few parts that got me emotional, language, season 11 spoilers

Word count: Don’t be mad… 5,147 words total. How in the actual fuck did that happen???

A/N: I. Love. This. I had to keep taking breaks because I was so emotional, good and bad. So when I was writing I was listening to Melanie Martinez song, so I incorporated her music into my thoughts while writing this )


   Being a Winchester was a bittersweet thing. It was bitter that you and your brothers never caught a break. The sweet part? Spending quality, normal family moments together. Which rarely happened. Every weekend you would drive to the bunker from out of town, all the way from L.A to be exact. Of course your boyfriend didn’t agree with this, saying it was nothing more but direct and utter bullshit that you would ‘waste’ gas to spend a whole two days with them. Regardless of what he said, you went anyways, and never missed a weekend. Even if you had a broken leg, which actually happened in the past. It was normally just you going to visit seeing as Nick, your boyfriend, and your brothers really didn’t get along in any way shape or form. Which was fine, because they never saw one another.

   Cas was indifferent about your relationship with Nick, stating he never understood why you would stay with somebody who constantly yelled at you and put you down in ways more than one. Everytime that this conversation occurred, you would simply reply that you loved him and without him in your life, you felt an emptiness that was unbearable.

Sam, the other hand, wasn’t as understanding as Cas was about the situation. While he wasn’t as direct about talking to you regarding the situation like Cas was, he definitely spoke his mind at times when he thought it necessary to do so. Whenever he spoke to you about your relationship, he was always cautious not to overstep his boundaries, but still making sure you got the point of his words.

   Now Dean - Dean was a whole different story. Not only was he eager to tell you exactly how he felt about your ‘piece of shit’ boyfriend, he was more than happy to tell him face to face how he felt and not miss a single feeling. Hence the reason as to why Nick no longer came with you to go and see your brothers. His reason had nothing to do with the fact Dean had threatened him with a gun, you had done that before and he was most certainly more afraid of you. However, Dean wasn’t convinced that he honestly and truly didn’t fear for his life in the face of him.

   Considering it was nearly Christmas, you and your brothers had decided that you should come up and stay with them for a week or so to enjoy the holidays together as a family. Of course Nick wasn’t very ecstatic about you leaving him high and dry during this time of year. So, with regret filling your every thought, you helped back his bags and dragged him along with you to Kansas. The boys were all beyond thrilled to see you, but their faces turned into a shocked state when they realized you weren’t alone. Judging by the look on Dean’s face, he was about to open his mouth and speak freely.

   “Okay before any of you say anything, let’s just all have in the back of our heads that it’s almost Christmas and the important thing is we’re all together,” you stood between the group of them, trying to get them all to see your point of view.

   “Y/N, is right. It’s only a week anyways, what could happen?” Cas nodded at Sam’s statement, but Dean’s threatening gaze never left Nick’s.

*Two Days Later 12/20/16*

   Well, two days into your stay and everything was surprisingly quiet. Okay, it was quiet as long as you kept your emotionally rigid brother away from your boyfriend. Other than their one or two run in’s, it was nice to be around the boys again. Not constantly being under the same roof as them was really a hard thing for you to deal with emotionally, you’d always been so close to them, and with Cas being your best friend it really felt like a piece of you was missing being away from them. Given the circumstances you were dealt, it wasn’t like you could just move back in…at least not with Nick. Tonight - tonight was one of those nights that he showed his true colors around your brothers and Cas, showing you why he wasn’t all you had made him up to be.

   The two of you sat on your bed, watching some series on Netflix that you couldn’t be less interested in watching or hearing. The door was open, Dean said that he didn’t have a problem with you two being alone but for your safety, he wanted to be able to hear if Nick started up with his usual loud and verbal aggressive ways.

   “Can we watch something else babe?” your head lifted from it’s spot on the pillow which was nowhere near him or his warmth. “We’ve been watching the same thing for like three hours now,” he only ignored you, making you mad which was understandable. Well understandable for everybody but him.

   Without another thought you grabbed the remote and paused his show. Almost in the same instant, his hand roughly connected to your face, sending you flying backwards off the bed and causing you to hit your head hard on the nightstand. Your room was so far back from the library where everybody was sitting, that they couldn’t hear the commotion happening behind the now closed door.

   “I really am getting tired of you and your bullshit Y/N, you know that?” he locked the door in a swift motion, reached down, and grabbed you by your neck firmly-raising you off of the ground and then tossing you violently down onto the floor by your bed, causing you to hit the corner of your eye on the piece of the metal bed frame that was sticking out slightly.

   There was enough room under your bed for you to crawl underneath for protection, but before you could successfully get more than half of your body under it’s protective cover, a hand gripped your leg firmly and yanked you out from what little protection you had. Flipping you over onto your back, the bottom of his shoe met somewhere between your chest and your throat, making it impossible for you to yell for your brothers to help you. Both of your hands grabbed his leg, attempting to lift it a enough to stop the weight of his body from crushing you to an extent to which you could yell to your best abilities. It didn’t work. In a split second the foot was raised, looking upward you realized he was going to kick you. From the corner of your crying eyes you caught glimpse of an emptied out gun, but anything to help you was better than nothing. Your arm reached in the direction of the gun, the shaking fingers attached to your hand just barely grabbing ahold of it in time. With a clean swing of your fatigue arm, you connected the hardest part of the weapon into his genitalia, causing him to fall to the ground in pain.

   “Fucking bitch!” he injured body was blocking the door, making it impossible to get past him for help. So you crawled under the bed, resting in the middle top part of it’s coverage and holding your aching body into as tucked of a position as you could.

   Suddenly an arm reached underneath of the bed, his fingers just scraping the skin on your arm as he attempted to grab you. It startled you, sending a chilling scream out of your terrified body. You realized he had no way to get to you. His body was much bigger than yours, not allowing him to crawl under the tight space. Thankfully, you picked the one room in the bunker to call yours which had a bed that was built bolted into the floor for some odd reason, making it impossible to lift or move without releasing the screws. However, regardless of all of this, the odds still wern’t in your favor. While his body wasn’t small enough to get to you, his arms were most definitely long enough to once he repositioned himself. All you could do to defend yourself was pull your body as far away from him as you could, but it wasn’t going to work for long. Sliding your body out from under the bed you ran to your dresser just before he reached you, there was a gun inside. Sadly you didn’t reach it, just before you could, he shoved you down and then pushed the extremely heavy dresser onto your legs. A sharp feeling ran through your legs and into your spine, sending a loud painful scream out of you. Just before he could do anything else, the door was busted down.

   Instantly, Nick stepped away from you, holding his hands in the air as Dean pointed his gun directly at his face. Sam ignored your brothers actions, clearly agreeing with him once he took one look at you. Rushing to your side along with Cas who most certainly didn’t need help with the task, the two of them lifted the dresser off. A strong throbbing pain began to form immediately in your legs, making you wince at it’s caused pain.

   “You son of a bitch,” the grip Dean had on his gun was strong, he stood just inches away from a now terrified Nick. “Did you really think you could just get away with putting your hands on my sister?” both Cas and Sam were next to you, trying to ask you what was injured besides the obvious external wounds, but your attention was focused on Dean. This wasn’t his fight.

   Without sparing a second longer to think before you acted, you reached into Sam’s jacket and grabbed his gun. Cocking it back, you gained the attention from the piece of shit who decided this would be a good idea.

   “Look - Y/N, I’m sorry okay? Come on baby, this is all a misunderstanding,” your brother lowered his gun, but didn’t move from the door frame, blocking Nick in as he looked at you with now gentle eyes. You couldn’t help but stop the tears from coming down your face, this was all your fault.

   “Yeah it is, you’re right,” the gun was rested on the floor, but your hand still held onto it tightly.

   Everybody in the room was beyond shocked, Dean opened his mouth, with no doubt about to tell you that you’d lost your shit. But there was no need.

   “You’re clearly misunderstanding me for a fucking idiot,” the gun was raised again, and in that same moment you shot him in his right leg, sending him to the floor. “Now get the hell out of my home, or I’ll shoot you somewhere of more value to you,” he tried his best to get up as quickly as he could, running out of the bunker without another thought but to save his ass. You dropped the gun completely now, the pain was getting worse and shooting had surprisingly took a lot out of you.

   “We need to get you to the hospital sweetheart,” Dean joined Cas and Sam by your side, the rough threatening look that was once on his face completely gone now.

   “I - I don’t think I’ll be able to walk,” uncontrollable tears rushed like violent rivers from your eyes and down your face, the realization of what had just happened was now setting in.

   “It’s alright,” he wiped a tear from your face, knowing that Cas was currently low on grace and unable to heal you. “Sammy, go warm up Baby. Cas you call the hospital and let them know the situation,” both of them left the room quickly, not saying another word. “Alright doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you,” this was his way of briefly letting you know that with the injuries you had, it wouldn’t be a pleasant feeling.

   Reluctantly, you wrapped your arms the best you could around his neck and allowed him to hold you in his arms bridal style. The pain you felt was worse than it was when you were laying still on your back.

*At the Hospital 12/20/16 - 9:00pm*

   Impatiently you rested your tired body on the uncomfortable hospital bed, awaiting the doctor to come back and tell you the seriousness of your sustained injuries. Beside you sat a two very emotionally stressed people that you were lucky enough to call your brothers and one deeply confused angel.

   “I don’t understand why we allowed him to walk out of the bunker,” Cas was looking intensly out the window, but the directed his attention towards the rest of you. “He doesn’t deserve to live after all he’s done and caused,” a small weak smile appeared on your lips, you truly were blessed with people who loved you more than anything.

   “It wasn’t worth it Cas, I mean trust me I wanted to - I really wanted to. But it goes against protecting people, what we all do,” while they were all still very mad, they understood where you were coming from.

   The four of you were silenced by the sound of a knock on the door, and the entrance of the doctor.

   “Well, the good news is both of you will have no long term effects due to the damage sustained tonight,” one specific word caught your attention, without a doubt the boys too.

   “I’m sorry I’m a bit confused…what do you mean by ‘us’,” everybody in the room except the doctor shared the same confused look. “Are - are you saying I’m pregnant?” he gave a slight nod in response to your question.

   “Congratulations, you’re just about a month along” but was this really a good thing? “Only thing I would like to monitor on you would be a rib that appears to be a little bit out of place. I’d like to make sure it’s healed properly before the baby grows and your body adapts to the changes,” he must have seen the concern on your face. “You’re surrounded here by people who will support and love you every step of this journey Y/N. You won’t have to do this alone,” he placed a hand on your shoulder very gently, and left you to your privacy with your brothers and Cas.

   “Pregnant huh?” as you looked over, you saw a huge smile resting on Dean’s face. “Explains why you’ve been so moody lately,” you all laughed, but you instantly regretted it and held your sore rib. “What? Did they kick?” his words made you laugh.

   “Yeah Dean, a one month along developed baby is already kicking,” Ssam had beat you to saying what you very much wanted to.

Dean shrugged and leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with the fact he was going to be an uncle. You glanced over to look at Sam who shared the same pleased smile Dean had. While your brothers were beyond happy to hear this joyous new of a new Winchester being brought into the family, Cas seemed to be unsure of this. Most likely worried about the pain you were going to be going through, he always worried so much.

*At the Hospital 12/23/16 - 7:00am*

   The doctor had wanted to keep you overnight for a few days to keep a close eye on you, making sure you were really going to be okay before sending you off. Every second you spent in the boring room, was made a little less boring with the loving comfort from your family. A part of you wished that your friends (Kevin, Jo, Charlie, Ash, Ellen, even Meg) were still alive to witness your journey of bringing a new life into the world. An even bigger part of you wanted Bobby to be there, he was always like your father figure and it hurt your heart everyday to not have him there. Most of all - more than anything in the world, you wanted, no, you needed your mother there. You were now officially going to be a mother to your own little bundle of joy in the world, and seeing as you never had a mother in your life due to her death when you were only six months…you could use some guidance. At least you had your annoying loving brothers and a flightless angel to help you…maybe.

*Christmas Morning*

   It couldn’t have been any earlier than six in the morning, and no other than Dean himself was busting into your room blasting 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ all throughout the bunker. Groaning, you flipped your body over to the opposite side of the bed, your back now facing him as you covered your tired face with a pillow.

   “Time to get up! Come on, you know I won’t stop until you up,” your tired eyes moved the pillow and looked over in his direction to see a very happy, energetic, dancing brother in your room.

   Reaching over to your nightstand you grabbed an empty water bottle and threw it in his direction.

   “That’s not a Christmas spirit,” he picked the water bottle up off of the wooden floor, and chucked it back at you, hitting you directly in the face.

   “Hey! I’m pregnant you asshole,” sitting straight up in bed you pretended to be deeply offended by your brother’s actions, he only scoffed.

   “Yeah, like five minutes pregnant. Doesn’t even count,” when he realized it was too early to play any games with you, and he bolted out of the room. Making sure you couldn’t catch up to him to get revenge for waking you up so early.

   When the two of you ran into the library, you stopped dead in your tracks once you caught a glimpse of the decorations that had somehow been put up over night. Over the main entrance hung a beautiful sparkling banner with pink and blue vibrant polka-dots covering every corner. To make it more in the holiday spirit, candy canes were drawn on the corners while a santa hat rested in the middle, perfectly placed above the words “Merry First Christmas!”. Your eyes glanced over to the corner of the room where a giant bookcase once stood tall and proud, in it’s place a giant tree towered beautifully over many wrapped presents.

   “Come over here,” eagerly, Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the tree, both of you completely forgetting your little war going on.

   He impatiently sat you down and handed you a gift, smiling like a child as he handed it to you.

   “Open it,” you did as you were instructed. “Now I know we don’t know anything yet on a gender or anything, but I-,” Sam cut him off.

   “He couldn’t wait and made me haul ass down to the store with him to buy this,” the irritated tone in his voice was completely opposite from the happy look on his face.

   “Yeah I couldn’t wait,” when you opened the gift, you realized it wasn’t for you…it was your baby’s very first gift, You couldn’t help but smile like an idiot. This was the best Christmas ever.

*Four Months Later*

   Ever since you began showing, even just a little bit, both of your brothers were walking on eggshells around you. The pair of them refused to hug you, in fear they would 'squish the baby like a balloon’.

   “You two do realize that you can’t just deflate my stomach right?” but they obviously didn’t care about what you had to say, they were being the safe ones. “Ridiculous,”

   However…this wasn’t where the madness ended. If either of them saw you carrying anything heavier than an empty water bottle, they flipped their shit. Literally. Just freaked out. Sure it was funny the first time, but once it got into your head that they really weren’t going to stop this any time soon, it became annoying. Cas was the only one who treated you like a normal person, maybe it was because he had the ability to tell when something was wrong with the baby so he didn’t have to stress.

   “SAM WINCHESTER I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TOUCH MY BOOK AGAIN WHILE I’M READING I’M GOING TO HIT YOU UPSIDE YOUR HEAD WITH IT!!!” your loud yelling rang though the bunker, it’s unexpected tone sending Sam running in the opposite direction of you, dodging the hard covered book being tossed violently in his path.

Castiel showed up and immediately began to calm you down.

“Try your best to ignore everything they do Y/N. Being stressed isn’t good for either of you,” his hand was placed on your stomach, making sure that your blood pressure wasn’t too high to affect the baby.

“Yeah I know Cas, thanks for being the only 'normal’ one around here,” he smiled at your comment.

“I didn’t know being an angel made me normal,” trying your best to withhold the laugh from within your chest, you kissed him on his head, letting him know how thankful you were to have him.

“I don’t know what I would do without you…you really are my guardian angel,” from around the corner you noticed Dean and Sam were stacking up all of your hardcover books that they claimed were 'too heavy’, and hauling them off in an unknown direction. “You dirty little bastards!” quickly you got up out of your chair, ignoring Cas’s call for you to let it go and chasing down your brothers.

*Month 7 of Pregnancy*

   By now you were well into your pregnancy, and more than showing. There had been a lot of issues going on lately but the boys always made sure somebody was always with you, to make sure you were okay and protect you while you were carrying precious cargo. Sam had released the Darkness, also known as Amara. You had nothing but disgust for her in your heart, not only was she damaging the Earth, but she was damaging Dean mentally and emotionally. You couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand seeing him so broken down and in pain and confused. Of course you couldn’t do anything about it, nobody would let you which you were both pissed and happy about.

   Long story short, you and everybody else were facing this bitch, and you couldn’t do a damn thing but sit back, watch, and do research to help out.

*Month 8 of Pregnancy*

   As your pregnancy continued on, so did Amara and her ways. She had brought so much chaos and destruction into the world, she caught God’s attention. Yes. God himself came out of hiding and finally had a very long overdue chat with Lucifer. Who decided it would be a good idea to lock himself in 'his’ room and throw a fit. A very poor movement on his part. You had been woken up from a much needed nap by the blaring of loud music coming from Sam’s room. Storming out of your room and into the Library which was full of people(?), you were about to demand answers.

   “Who in the actual hell is blasting that music?” everybody stopped their talking and looked at you, shocked you had come barging into the room.

   “Somebody who rules actual Hell,” Cas was sitting casually at the table, sitting up straight and proudly, most likely because God was there.

   “Uh-what is she doing?” you could hear God asking as you turned and headed towards the source of the noise.

   “It’s never a good thing to wake a very pregnant women from her nap,” Sam stood up and began trailing after you along with Dean and Cas who were going to make sure you didn’t punch the devil in the face. “we all learned that the hard way,”

   You didn’t even say anything, you just began pounding loudly and constantly at the door until he opened it up, very unimpressed by your actions.

   “Who do you think y-” oh you so weren’t in the mood for Lucifer’s sarcastic bullshit in any way shape or form.

   “First of all, this isn’t your house, so get your shit together. Second, you’re going to get the hell out of my brothers room and stop throwing a fit like a fucking three year old without candy,” the archangel seemed taken back by your very loud statement. “And turn that goddamn music off or so help me I don’t give a rats ass who you are, I will beat the ever loving shit out of you. Got it?” instantly, the music stopped and a very surprised Lucifer walked out of the room and to where his father sat down the hall and in the library.

  “Did she just-” Dean stood behind you, watching as you turned and walked back to your room.

   “Don’t wake me up again, or I won’t be talking next time I come out. I’ll be shooting,” you made your final statement before slamming the door shut.

   “Yeah Dean-I’m going to say she just did…”

*The Next Day*

As usual you were left at the bunker, only this time you were alone. Everybody had gone off to make sure the world wasn’t going to end and they wanted you to stay somewhere safe. Dean was going to go blow his damn existence into a million pieces to save the entire world…and you couldn’t even go with them to see him off. Of course he gave you his love and something else before he left.

“It’s for the my little niece,” he handed you a pink plaid onesie along with a matching headband, blanket, and little baby booties. You couldn’t help but cry.

   “She’s going to look so cute in this,” you tried your best to not think about how he wouldn’t be there to see it…but failed with a passion. “I love you asshole,” he smiled.

   “I love you to brat,” placing a warm kiss on your head, he turned and left.

   This was to be your last moments with him, or so you thought. It had been hours since you had heard anything, but you watched the T.V and got the news that everything was okay. Sure it was a happy moment, knowing the world was saved…but the realization that your brother was dead was devastating. Just when you thought your day - your life - was ruined, Dean came through the door and down the stairs.

   “D!” you tried your best to get up quickly and run over to him, but it was really a slow reunion. “I don’t understand,” he hugged you, forgetting of his fear of 'popping the balloon’.

   “I know sweetheart, but there’s something…someone, I want you to see. almost as if on cue, a familiar face walked through the entrance into the library.

   “Bobby?” he didn’t even need to finish his sentence.

   Without asking another question about his return, you embraced hrim, hugging him as tightly as your belly would allow you to without harming the baby. He placed a hand on your cheek.

   “Hello sweetheart,” the touch of his hand resting on your cheek stopped your tears from hitting the floor. “Looks like you’ve been pretty damn busy while I’ve been gone,” his eyes glanced down to your belly.

   “Well it’s almost time to meet my little girl. Another month almost exactly,” the tears of joy didn’t stop.

   “I hope being too happy is bad for the baby,” he took a step back while continued talking. “there’s someone else we want you to see, Amara really out did herself. Said that this was somebody you needed in your life more than you needed anybody, wanted us to tell you this was her way of apologizing,” the confused look on your face was instantly turned into shock when a blonde haired women rounded the corner and came into view.

   “Mom,” it wasn’t even a question who she was, her arms opened as the two of you walked into each others warm hug.

*Month 9-The Final Month*

   It had been close to a month since your mother and Bobby were brought back to life, and almost time for your baby girl to be brought into the world. Bobby seemed to be adapting pretty well to the new world, it wasn’t so new to him. However, Mary was having a little more trouble, but this didn’t stop her from squeezing in every second she could with you. Preparing you mentally for the birth and after the birth. It really helped having her around to guide you, even though it was a short timing.

   Sam, Dean, Bobby, Cas, you and your mother were all in the room Dean had made to watch T.V in and do so comfortably. A sharp movement began inside of the womb, causing you to place your hand where the foot of your baby girl was pushing into your side. Being so close to your due date, this wasn’t a nice feeling. The room she had inside to move around was slim, this was her way of saying that.

   “What is it?” Sam paused the movie you were all watching and everybody faced their attention to you. Mary only took one look and she knew what was happening.

   “She’s kicking,” her hand was placed where yours was and you happily moved yours out of the way so she could feel her granddaughter. “Looks like somebody has got a lot to say already,” looking over at the boys, she laughed.

   “You guys can feel too as long as you don’t fight over get’s to go first like last time,” the puppy dog looks on their faces turned to pure happiness when you gave them the all clear to feel their niece.

   “Did you feel that?” Sam looked up at you with eyes that were filled with joy and amazement.

   “Do I really need to answer that?” you all laughed lightly.

   “So you feel my hand on your belly right?” Dean’s comment only added more laughter from you and your mother.

   “It’s apart of me, yes I can feel it,” you moved your body weight to the side, testing to see if your theory was right. “alright guys, I need to go to the bathroom,” everyone backed off and gave you room to get up. Dean stood on his feet and Sam did the same, each of them grabbing one of your hands to help you stand up.

   All went well, you made it up and out of the doorway just fine. But you didn’t make it far. You were stopped by an undeniable feeling: water running down your legs.

   “Guys, it’s time,” a hand was holding the bottom of your balloon like belly while the other was placed on the wall to help balance you…this was going to be a long September night.

Read Bad Deals Here  Part Two

Read New Generation Here    Part Three

Second Chances -- Part 1

A/N: I’ve been talking about this for a while, but it’s been hard to finish given all of the asks and drafts I needed to get through.

My plans for this fic aren’t settled, but I intend to continue this for quite some time (I have quite a few ideas for where to take it that I’m looking forward to working on).  For now, though, I’m just going to post the first section to give you all a taste for what’s to come.

Keep reading

EXO Reaction: Getting Jealous

Hi precious anon, of course you can! I love you too, we both love you all so much! Thank you sweetheart, we will do our best. Fighting!

Love Always, Admin V<3 ~ *Gifs are not owned by us. All credit to rightful owners*

Baekhyun:

Baekhyun looks over at you to see another guy staring at your ass as you walk forward. He turns around and bites his lip as he snakes a hand around your waist.

Chanyeol:

Hears someone cat call you from behind. He turns around to give a glaring expression. “Wanna whistle at my girl again?”

Chen:

Glares at the guy every time he sees him. He mumbles to himself occasionally “can’t he see that she has a boyfriend..”

D.O:

As soon as he hears a whistle from behind his face drops. *You’re the one that calms him down*

Kai:

*Acts super sweet to you and feeds you candy while walking around the plaza. A smile never leaving his face as he’s holding you by the waist. He makes sure that everyone can see how happy he is that you two are together.*

Kris:

*He shoots a threatening look at the guys sitting behind them at the theatre, letting them know that his girl and him are nothing to mess with.*

Lay:

He’s sitting at the table in the food court as he watches you walk out from the bathroom. He judges with the rest of the boys as he sees the obvious stares you get as you walk past.

Luhan:

*Gif* “Bish. say. what?”

Sehun:

“I know she’s hot, but she’s MY girlfriend. It would be wise if you didn’t try to flirt with her.” He states turning around to the crowd of boys behind them whistling and making comments about your ass.

Suho:

*innocent baby* “Don’t those boys know that you have a boyfriend? We are holding hands. How Strange.”

Tao:

*Ready to beat someone* “No one looks at my girl that way.”

Xiumin:

*Keeps a close eye on you and makes sure you’re near his side. He makes sure that other guys know that you aren’t alone and are indeed accompanied by your boyfriend.*

TITLE: You Will Always Be Mine

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 of 3

AUTHOR: thesegraylittlelies

ORIGINAL IMAGINE:   Prompt/ Original imagine:

Imagine visiting Loki in the dungeons and telling him about your engagement, he doesn’t take it very well and threatens you, saying you are and always will be his.

RATING: N/A

NOTES/WARNINGS: Don’t judge me this is my first time writing something like this lol

***

As I walk down the dark hallway leading to the dungeons, many things are going through my mind.

What will he say? 

What will he do? 

Will he even care?

Why do I even care what he thinks?

Keep reading

Why Kesha's Case Is About More Than Kesha

When I saw the outcome of Kesha’s court case last Friday, I felt sick. Actually sick — I wanted to ask my Uber to pull over so I could throw up in a New York City trash can. The photos of her beautiful face crumpled with tears, the legally necessary but sickening use of the word “alleged” over and over in reference to the assault she says she remembers so vividly — it all created a special brand of nausea that comes when public events intersect with your most private triggers. I last experienced this when Rolling Stone botched a campus-assault narrative and as a result left millions of women exposed to doubt. I cried in a mini-mall in Brussels, imagining all the college-age girls suddenly changing their minds about coming forward against their rapists.

If you haven’t been following the case: for the last year and a half, Kesha has been trying to get out of a contract with her former collaborator and producer Lukasz Gottwald, known professionally as Dr. Luke (not a professional doctor). She has been shackled by a ten-year-old contract to Gottwald’s company Kemosabe, a subsidiary of Sony that controls both her recording and publishing — her entire livelihood as an artist and businesswoman. Here’s the reason she wants out: Kesha says that for ten years Gottwald drugged, raped, and emotionally abused her and controlled her creatively and emotionally through threats and manipulations. She explained that her dealings with Gottwald ultimately exacerbated a life-threatening eating disorder, which required rehab. When she concluded that continuing to work with Gottwald would kill her, she came forward and asserted herself.

Now Kesha has requested an immediate injunction that would allow her to begin to record without Dr. Luke. I think this seems like a pretty reasonable request. While the allegations of sexual assault and emotional abuse cannot be proven definitively, I think Kesha’s words speak for themselves: “I know I cannot work with Dr. Luke. I physically cannot. I don’t feel safe in any way.”

Sony could make this go away. But instead the company has chosen to engage in a protracted legal battle to protect Gottwald’s stake in Kesha’s future. Although the company insists that Kesha and Gottwald never need to be in a room together and that he will allow her to record without his direct involvement, they are minimizing what Kesha says regarding how Gottwald’s continued involvement in her career would affect her physical well-being and psychological safety.

Sony could make this go away. But instead the company has chosen to engage in a protracted legal battle to protect Gottwald’s stake in Kesha’s future.

So let me spell it out for them. Imagine someone really hurt you, physically and emotionally. Scared you and abused you, threatened your family. The judge says that you don’t have to see them again, BUT they still own your house. So they can decide when to turn the heat on and off, whether they’ll pay the telephone bill or fix the roof when it leaks. After everything you’ve been through, do you feel safe living in that house? Do you trust them to protect you?

That explanation is really for the judge, Shirley Kornreich, who questioned why — if they could be physically separated as Sony has promised — Kesha could not continue to work for Gottwald. After all, she said, it’s not appropriate to “decimate a contract that was heavily negotiated.” Guess what else is heavily negotiated? The human contract that says we will not hurt one another physically and emotionally. In fact, it’s so obvious that we usually don’t add it to our corporate documents.

To be clear, Kesha’s case is about more than a pop star fighting for her freedom, or a $60 million investment in a shiny commercial career. It’s about more than whether Kesha can strap on her cool leotards and make another album, free from a man who she says terrifies her. It’s even about more than the systemic misogyny of the entertainment industry, or the way that women in music and film have long been controlled and coerced by abusive Svengalis and entities larger than themselves. (Think: the studio system of the ‘40s and '50s, when starlets were essentially chattel. Think: Ike and Tina Turner.) What’s happening to Kesha highlights the way that the American legal system continues to hurt women by failing to protect them from the men they identify as their abusers.

What’s happening to Kesha highlights the way that the American legal system continues to hurt women by failing to protect them from the men they identify as their abusers.

For example: 19 states in America still allow rapists to assert parental rights over children conceived through rape, yoking women (and their children) to their attackers for a lifetime, an unimaginable cycle of revictimization. But it’s real. The same man who violently assaulted you could get the right to cuddle the baby that resulted from that assault.

A huge part of Kesha’s argument rests on her lawyer’s assertion that Gottwald, potentially enraged by Kesha’s sexual-assault allegations, could make efforts to bury her subsequent albums, preventing her from publicizing and therefore profiting from her work. This kind of control is a cornerstone of domestic abuse, and it’s far too common: according to the National Network to End Domestic Violence, financial abuse is an aspect of approximately 98 percent of abusive relationships. When a woman is not in control of her financial destiny, either because her partner is the primary breadwinner or because he makes financial decisions for the entire family, her world is made minuscule. Her resources evaporate. Fear dominates.

That’s not the only way legal ties can make it impossible for a woman to escape her abuser. Someone I love very much has been engaged in a years-long battle to allow her and her young daughter to move closer to where her successful business is (and away from her abuser). If he can’t control her directly, he will attempt to make sure that her choices are actually his. In some cases, victims of domestic violence can even be evicted from their homes for calling the police on their abusers. Yup, there are laws that allow landlords to kick tenants out if the cops are summoned for disorderly conduct of any kind — doesn’t matter who the “disorderly” one was — and this affects poor women most frequently. It’s why 20 percent of homeless women say they are on the streets because of domestic violence.

These women deserve better. They do not choose to have their reputations pilloried and their characters questioned as a tactic for getting what they want. What if we realize that the women who come forward have everything to lose, whether they’re pop stars or single mothers?

The fact is, Kesha will never have a doctor’s note. She will never have a videotape that shows us that Gottwald threatened and shamed her, and she will never be able to prove, beyond the power of her testimony, that she is unsafe doing business with this man. And no, none of this was in her contract. But what man, what company endeavors to keep a woman saddled with someone who she says has caused her years of trauma, shame, and fear? Fighting this fight publicly and in the legal system has already changed the course and tenor of her career forever. The lack of perspective on the part of Sony — the inability to look at the worth of a woman’s platinum records versus the worth of her soul being intact — is horrifying.

The public outcry about Kesha’s case has been truly heartening: the swell of shock and indignation from fans and fellow performers alike. It wasn’t long ago that women in the public eye didn’t have a loose-enough leash to reach out and support one another, for fear of losing all they had worked so hard to create. Instead they quietly watched on their televisions, hoping they wouldn’t be next.

Those days are over.

They are fucking done.

We are not scared anymore of losing what we worked for, of being branded hysterical or difficult, of being targeted and silenced by men in power. The women in the music industry speaking out for Kesha are proof. And their words will reverberate, inspiring the young women watching them for clues about the good life to speak up too. Soon, no one will accept shame and fear as the status quo. And so, while Kesha is indefinitely silenced, her voice has never been louder.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Considering that you are a huge Ulquihime fan (based on your credibility of writing incredible Ulquihime stories :D) I was wondering what can you say in response to those who say that Ulquiorra doesn't deserve a girl like Orihime? Some people think that pairing Ulquiorra with Orihime is a punishment for him and I just can't see how.

Anon, you’re making me blush! *w* This question also made my entire night, eyyy.

I think there’s a huge flaw in the perception of Ulquiorra’s character. Many people, while dismissing him as nothing but a hollow, actually forget to treat him as such when they judge him, and hold him to a human standard. This is why half the fandom thinks he threatened Orihime when he talked about ripping open her chest and cracking open her skull, when in fact he was just asking a question. (He’s a hollow, living in a world of violence. Of course he’s going to use violent imagery when he speaks.)

But then, people dismiss many canon things about Ulquiorra simply because of his aspect of death. They think he’s emotionless when in fact it’s implied that his emotions drove him to embrace nihilism in the first place. They take his words at face value, and completely ignore his conflicting actions.

Bringing this back to Orihime, the one thing everyone deems unforgivable is the fact that he killed Ichigo in front of her. Even I have trouble letting that one slide sometimes, because there IS no excusing it. But that was his hollow nature coming into play. He wanted Orihime to accept his point of view, and the only way he knew to do it was to destroy that which she put her faith in - which incidentally was Ichigo. Poor guy.

But there’s also no denying the look of regret on Ulquiorra’s face when he saw Orihime crying over Ichigo. There’s no conceivable way to dismiss the gravity of the implications behind him using his dying breaths to ask Orihime if she was afraid of him. He was sorry for what he’d done to her (not so much Ichigo - protecting Las Noches was Ulquiorra’s false god-given duty and Ichigo isn’t as pretty as Inoue). He was scared that she saw him as nothing more than a monster who’d taken her happiness away. And Orihime reassured him that he wasn’t; that she saw him as someone deserving of her forgiveness, someone she wanted to help.

((I’m telling you, the hand reach between these two is the single most beautiful gesture I have ever seen in a work of fiction. Period. But I digress.))

TL;DR: If Orihime saw Ulquiorra as deserving of her forgiveness and friendship, then the fandom should too. =w=

Now, there are people who think that shoving them together would be punishment for Orihime as well. But do you really think Orihime, the queen of good cheer, would let Ulquiorra boss her around on her turf? She’d be her silly and energetic self and he would be so confused and curious that he’d stick around for the insanity. I don’t think it would develop into love if Ulquiorra remained a hollow, though; they would have a special relationship that she’d call friendship and he’d call fascination. But if he gained a heart, yeah, let the sex—-err, romance begin.

See: Kubo saying in a Shonen Jump Alpha interview that he would put Ulquiorra into comical situations if he were still alive (read: Ulquiorra and Orihime relationship is a canon thing that I created, bitches)
See Also: the 95 chapters of related insanity that I spent four years of my life writing like I had nothing better to do