wooden sides

Would you believe this was inspired by the beginning of Shrek? Yes. Because it’s the same.


“Next!”

Stiles dragged his feet a bit as Hilda tugged him forward in line. He was chained up and surrounded by guards, probably about to be sold into slavery, but he still wasn’t going to make this easy for the old broad.

He’d been buying her produce for years, and this was how she repaid him? Selling him to the king for some supernatural creature bounty? No. He was going to make this as difficult as possible.

She glared her beady little eyes at him, dug her sharp nails into his arm a bit more, and shoved him forward another lurching step. The fae at the front of the line was deemed worth twenty pounds, ten shillings and hauled off by knights in armor.

“Next!”

A hellhound was dragged forward in an iron collar.

“I will give you money if you just let me go,” Stiles whispered, he wasn’t above bargaining, but Hilda ignored him. He didn’t have much, but it was probably more than she’d get from these chumps. “Six shillings, right now.”

Hilda rolled her eyes and tugged him forward by the chain looped around his wrists. The hellhound was appraised and hauled off into the back of a closed wagon. It was no doubt magically reinforced; Stiles could still hear it snarling violently, but it wasn’t breaking through the old rickety wooden sides.

“Next!”

“Ten shillings,” Stiles continued, “right as soon as I can get to the bank. Twenty, even! Three pounds!”

Hilda gave him a withering look. “You don’t have that kind of money. Now shut up.” She yanked on his chain and both wrists burned as the iron manacles scraped against the already raw skin. The iron was bad enough without all of the jerking around.

Another supernatural creature was carried off to the wagon—this time a nymph—and then it was Stiles’ turn.

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Let's Pretend (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Pt. 3 ♡

A/N: FINALLY! Part 3 is here, y'all. This is the second to last part. ): but there will be a part 4 and possibly an epilogue! Please excuse any misspelling, I got too excited when writing. This chapter is inspired by this song if you wanna hear while you read ENJOY! ❤❤ -Delilah 

Warnings: Sex, Swearing, Pornography, NSFW. 

Series Masterlist

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8

Duanwu Festival 端午节 | Dragon boat races 赛龙舟

 Duanwu Festival: 5th day of the 5th lunar month
  Qu Yuan屈原
  The Dragon Boat Festival, also called the Duanwu Festival, is celebrated on the fifth day of the fifth month according to the Chinese calendar. For thousands of years, the festival has been marked by eating zong zi (glutinous rice(糯米)wrapped to form a pyramid using bamboo or reed leaves) and racing dragon boats.
  The festival is best known for its dragon-boat races, especially in the southern provinces where there are many rivers and lakes. This regatta(赛舟会)commemorates the death of Qu Yuan , an honest minister who is said to have committed suicide by drowning himself in a river.
  Qu was a minister of the State of Chu situated in present-day Hunan and Hubei provinces, during the Warring States Period (475-221BC)(战国时期). He was upright, loyal and highly esteemed for his wise counsel that brought peace and prosperity to the state. However, when a dishonest and corrupt prince vilified Qu, he was disgraced and dismissed from office. Realizing that the country was now in the hands of evil and corrupt officials, Qu grabbed a large stone and leapt into the Miluo River (汨罗江) on the fifth day of the fifth month. Nearby fishermen rushed over to try and save him but were unable to even recover his body. Thereafter, the state declined and was eventually conquered by the State of Qin.
  Zongzi粽子
  The people of Chu who mourned the death of Qu threw rice into the river to feed his ghost every year on the fifth day of the fifth month. But one year, the spirit of Qu appeared and told the mourners that a huge reptile(爬行动物)in the river had stolen the rice. The spirit then advised them to wrap the rice in silk and bind it with five different-colored threads before tossing it into the river.
  During the Duanwu Festival, a glutinous rice pudding called zong zi is eaten to symbolize the rice offerings to Qu. Ingredients such as beans, lotus seeds(莲子), chestnuts(栗子), pork fat and the golden yolk of a salted duck egg are often added to the glutinous rice. The pudding is then wrapped with bamboo leaves, bound with a kind of raffia and boiled in salt water for hours.
  The dragon-boat races赛龙舟
  The dragon-boat races symbolize the many attempts to rescue and recover Qu’s body. A typical dragon boat ranges from 50-100 feet in length, with a beam of about 5.5 feet, accommodating two paddlers seated side by side.
  A wooden dragon head is attached at the bow, and a dragon tail at the stern(船尾). A banner hoisted on a pole is also fastened at the stern and the hull is decorated with red, green and blue scales edged in gold. In the center of the boat is a canopied shrine behind which the drummers, gong(铜锣)beaters and cymbal(铙钹)players are seated to set the pace for the paddlers. There are also men positioned at the bow to set off firecrackers, toss rice into the water and pretend to be looking for Qu. All of the noise and pageantry creates an atmosphere of gaiety and excitement for the participants and spectators alike. The races are held among different clans, villages and organizations, and the winners are awarded medals, banners, jugs of wine and festive meals.

Content- An Ivar Drabble

Originally posted by thefacesofdeath

A little while ago I posted some headcanons of Ivar with only daughters, and i thought I’d just write a cute little ditty to go along with that. So please, enjoy some fluffier than fluffy Ivar on this dreary Tuesday morning!

TW: none, just cuteness

Read my Only Daughters headcanons here 

****

“We’re going to have another sister.”


Ivar looks at his daughter, curled up against his side. Her wooden runestones are scattered in front of them in the mud, a jumble of symbols he knows but cannot interpret. He does not have his late mother’s gift. Inga does.


“Do the runes tell you that?” He asks, tucking the furs around the sleeping little one in his arms carefully. Katla makes a soft cooing noise, but does not wake. She is barely 2 winters old, and sleep comes easy. 


“I dreamt it,” Inga informs him, gathering the runes back up in her leather pouch. “Just last night. These runes are telling me we will have good fishing this year. You should tell the fishermen, they will be happy.”


Ivar cannot help but laugh softly. Inga may only be a child of 8 winters, but she is heavy with the gift of the seer. It makes her speak like a grown woman. His little old woman, he calls her. She hates it.


“I wish I could go in,” Jorunn sighs, looking wistfully behind her at the Great Hall. “I want to help!”


“Maybe next time, min elske,” Ivar says, trying pointedly to ignore the pout Jorunn sends his way. “Your mother did not want you to see, in case it was hard, like with Katla.”


“I am a big girl,” his healer child grumbles, and Ivar laughs again. The sound never fails to feel foreign, even after all these happy years.


“Papa! Eidunn refuses to give me back my axe!”


His oldest two children barrel towards him, clothes muddy and cheeks red from the chilly spring wind. Eidunn is grinning widely, Alfdis looks distraught.


“I won it fair. I knocked her down and took it while she tried to catch her breath,” Eidunn skids to a halt in front of him. “She did not keep her shield up.”


“Good work, Eidunn,” Ivar praises his flourishing shieldmaiden, and she practically vibrates with pride. “Alfdis, what have I told you about keeping your shield up? You will have your head taken off, and who will then be Queen after me?”


His eldest hangs her head in shame. “I know, Papa. Uncle Hvitserk has been yelling at me all morning. I will do better, I swear to Thor!”


“You must, and he will hold you to that,” Ivar’s voice is stern. His wife tells him he is too firm with his heir. He tells her she needs to be ready. The world does not accept soft rulers, and he will not have a daughter of his be unprepared. “Eidunn will keep your axe until you can win it back.”


“Yes, Papa,” her voice is somber, defeated. His heart gives a little pang. He used to be so much harder, he thinks. Then he had daughters, and he feels as soft and tender as freshly spun wool.


“Come here, ducklings,” he commands, and all his treasures flock to him like birds to a tree. “Shall we have a story while we wait?”


“Oh yes!” They all scramble to sit as close to him as possible. Katla stirs and opens her eyes, but does not move, content to listen from her warm cocoon. He begins one of their favourite tales: How the Serpent Defeated the Bear and the Dogs and Won Back His Kingdom. 


He is only halfway through when the doors to the Hall burst open behind him. His children jump up, excitement spreading on their eager young faces. His heart pounds suddenly in his chest. 


“Well? Out with it!”


“King Ivar, all is well,” the slave girl says breathlessly. “The Queen is requesting your presence.”


His daughters cheer; he allows himself a smile. He motions for Alfdis to take Katla while he grabs his crutches and stands. His girls rush ahead of him into the Hall, shrieking and laughing. 


He will admit his wife looks exhausted (childbearing is hard work, he does not envy her), but she greets him with a loving smile as their bed is overrun with happy daughters. 


“Jora will bring the baby back in a moment,” she says as he sits down beside her. He smooths her damp hair back from her forehead, leaning in to press his lips reverently to the smooth skin. Another birth, another day she lives. The gods smile upon the woman who holds his heart, and he is forever grateful. “She is just checking everything over, but she says the legs are fine.”


“Is it a son? Or am I to be outnumbered even further?” His voice is light; he does not really care. None of his children have his condition. He has children when he thought he’d never get them. He has already been given more than he could ever have dreamed. 


His wife looks guilty. Inga huffs as if she is insulted he would even ask. Jora chooses that moment to re enter the room. She crosses to the bed and he immediately holds out his arms. The weight of the bundle feels better than any spoils of war.


“Congratulations, my King,” the old midwife’s voice is full of mirth. “She is beautiful.”


His children erupt into happy squeals. Inga looks pleased with herself. His wife gives him a sheepish smile. He feels as if his heart may burst.


The babe in his arms stirs, perfect and healthy, her blue eyes piercing through him like the sun through the mist. He runs his hand over the soft downy fuzz on her head, the same colour as his. His sixth daughter. His sixth blessing. 


“Sorry,” his wife murmurs beside him, but he shushes her. 


“There is nothing to be sorry for. The gods have given me yet another healthy, beautiful child. Another duckling for my flock. I do not care that she is not a son. She is healthy and alive, and my blood lives on. Besides,” he grins at her, “there is always next time.”


She groans, but a smile spreads across her face. “There will be a next time, will there? Is not six children enough?”


He leans in to press his lips to hers. “I can never get enough of seeing you round with my child, or holding my newborn children." 


"Papa, stop kissing Mother and let us see our new sister,” Alfdis demands, and he pulls always from his sweet wife to allow his daughters to crowd around him. They coo over their baby sister, touching her reverently as she gazes serenely up at them. 


“What will we name her?” Jorunn asks. 


He looks at his wife. She looks back at him. They fought over names, as usual.
“Dagny,” Inga pipes up, and her young seer’s eyes get a far away look. “I dreamed that, too.”


“Dagny it is then,” he affirms, looking once again at the child cradled in his arms. She blinks her big blue eyes at him, mouth puckering into a quiet yawn. He leans down and presses his lips to her tiny cheek.


I will protect you, littlest duckling, he vows silently. I will show you how to be Viking, how to be a daughter of Ivar the Boneless. I will love you with everything that I am. I will give you a home, and all that that entails. I will let you be what you wish to be, whatever path the gods have chosen for you. You have my word.


He pulls back; his wife is smiling, unshed tears in her eyes. His daughters are already crowding back around him, each demanding to hold their new sister. He thinks about how far he has come, how much his life has changed. How an angry, bitter young man became a king, a husband, a father. How he has been granted more joy than he could ever have imagined. How he loves completely, and is wholeheartedly loved in return. 


One day, the sagas will sing of how Ivar, King of all Norway, conquered lands, slayed his enemies, spread his fame. He will be remembered for his deeds and his success, his cunning mind and his sharp blade.


But this, these moments, they are what he will remember his own life for. More than battles, more than glory, more than any riches. His personal saga is these happy little faces, the tender gaze of his wife, the beating of his full heart.


And with that, Ivar the Boneless is content.

Moon of Fire Part i (Sastiel Sequel)

Sastiel is a fic inspired from Rowaelin’s child and Feysand’s child being mates. Thank you to @dorianthekinkymf for reading this first part early, and giving me her amazing support, and for @dr-woodsprite for the title inspiration! And also to the girls who have done beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful Sastiel edits, @cassianandfenrysaremyboyos @readinglikewildfire @thebookdiviner @poseiodn @dorianthekinkymf I love you guys so much a thousand thank yous!

If you haven’t read A Court of Fire and Dreams:
Check out Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV and Part V.

Moon of Fire:
Part i, Part ii, Part iii, Part iv, Part v

*****

Darkness covered Seraphine.
She was delirious, sprawled on a wooden floor, a wild raging pain deep in her head. Though her hands—bloody, shackled.
Despite this, a bigger problem was at hand.
Below her, a circle similar to the one drawn by Amren and Feyre at the House of Wind was slightly visible in the dark.
I came alive when I met you she had said to him, before she was to go back home to her family. To Terrasen.
Now, bars surrounded her from all sides. Wooden walls caved her in. She was trapped, her powers, her fire non-existent.
Not again, not again, not again. Seraphine forced her mind to calm, but she didn’t feel in control of herself anymore.
A corner of the cloth covering the wagon was pulled back. She stared at a wild eyed man, his eyes the colour of blood, wearing strange clothing she had never seen before.
“Got somewhere else to be, princess?”
He laughed as she said nothing.
“Didn’t think so.”
The man tried to grab her through the bars, laughing maniacally, and she felt now, that the tunic once owned by Kastiel was too short to be worn here.
“Don’t try anything funny,” he spat at her.
Seraphine had been so sure that her family needed her here, that they were in danger. Now she didn’t know what to think.
She swallowed her fear, listening intently at the sounds outside. The rustling of never ending trees. The breeze of fresh grass. Horses, being tended to. Though her powers were gone, her fae hearing weren’t. They must have been at an outpost, her capturers taking a break and resting the horses.
Near silent footsteps approached the horses at the front of the carriage, murmuring gentle words to the animals.
Seraphine was drawn to their tender voice. She crawled towards the edge of the wagon, tearing out a small piece of cloth from the bottom of her dress.
She takes a deep breath and pushes her hands through the bars and the cloth, towards the horse tender.
“For anyone in Terassen,” she whispers to him, dropping the piece. Seraphine didn’t know if he caught it, or if it simply landed on the ground.
The horse tender was about to make a sound, about to speak to her, before he was yanked heavily back. He yells in fright, a commotion breaking off as Seraphine hears the sound of skin pounding on skin.
The doors to her wagon opened, blinding her with bright daylight.
“What did you give him,” the red eyed guard yells.
Seraphine crawled to the back of the wagon, making herself into a ball. She was weak, she had no powers, she was not strong enough to escape into the heart of what could only be Oakwald Forest.
“I said,” the man yells, grabbing Seraphine by the shoulders and shaking her. “What did you give him?”
Seraphine said nothing.
Red eyes were the last thing she saw before the pummel of a sword knocked her out.

*****

The journey through Oakwald forest left Seraphine’s mind in tatters. Her cheek lay on the cool wood, trying to clear her mind. She couldn’t tell how many days had passed, how many hours she had spent in the darkness of her wagon. The men forced her a drink, which suppressed her strength and powers. If they were travelling to Oakwald Forest, then there was a high chance that they were headed to Terrasen—her home. She snickered at the thought of these men bargaining her for whatever it is they desired from her court. Did they think they would make it out alive? The thought made Seraphine warm with joy. Going home didn’t seem so bad now.
Her heavy lids threatened to close again, just before she sees in the corner of her wagon, a flower, the moon illuminating it through the covers. She crawled towards it, her sodden tunic dragging through the markings on the wooden planks. She picks up the delicate blue, almost silver thing, pressing it to her face, inhaling the familiar scent—moonflower.
She swore she could hear giggling in the far distance.

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Three Wishes

Fandom: The Hobbit / The Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Female!Reader

Request: 

Word Count: 3100

Warning: Smut.

Notes: I am so sorry that it took four weeks to complete your request, anon! I hope you enjoy it though! I actually sat down at 10 pm to write this and didn’t start till 1 am. :P *~Procrastination at its finest~*

I hope you all enjoy, and I will see y'all in my next post. :*

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Wrong Place Wrong Time (29)

I DO NOT OWN THIS GIF!
Part 29 of an ongoing series, enjoy :)
A fanfic for a more Mature audience due to violence and language. Read at your own risk :)

Themes=😖,🌟,💣,🎭 ,. (☠️- Harm towards characters, Strong language and Adult themes.)

Summary: You end up in the wrong place at the wrong time and it has negative repercussions. Main characters include: Reader and EXO.

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15  Part 16  Part 17  Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28  Part 30  Part 31  Part 32  Part 33  Part 34  Part 35 (Final)

Word Count: 4,500 (Maybe a little more or less)

Parts of the body are involved that little kids shouldn’t be reading about😜 But it’s not intended in a sexual way. I’m not a smut writer, haha. I just thought it was somewhat relevant so you could really get a sense of the particular characters struggle. Enjoy guys and leave comments as usual!


 “If you’re the reason Kyungsoo is in a wheelchair, I promise you I’ll put a bullet through your skull myself.” Junmyeon frowned advancing towards you, picking up a wooden broomstick from the side. “After I’ve battered you that is.”

“Junmyeon stop! I didn’t call Red please.” You backed away slowly walking around the table, he was following you around, gripping the broom tightly causing his knuckles to turn white. Once you had noticed that you had walked around the whole table you quickly ran out of the room and began racing up the stairs to your room, locking yourself inside.

“Open this fucking door now Y/N! Or I will kick it down!” Junmyeon shouted, banging the broom against your door, your heart was beating wildly. Junmyeon didn’t get to angry at you nowadays and so when he was it terrified you beyond belief. There was no way you were getting out of this one without some help, since he was too heated to listen to you. The next best thing you thought of doing was making noise to alert anyone that would allow themselves to be awoken by you. So you began to scream at the top of your lungs and banged your fists on the wall of the bedroom beside you.

“OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN MYSELF, THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!” Junmyeon’s beast mode was in activation, his voice was gruff and a whole tone lower then it usually, until you heard a familiar voice which sounded like it belonged to Kyungsoo.

“What is going on, you better have a valid reason for interrupting my well needed sleep.” Kyungsoo said in his new tone of voice; he was never talkative but ever since the accident, he had lost all sense of emotion, he was completely cold and his voice was monotone. It was as though he was an empty shell; he was no longer living but rather, just existing.

“Y/N, open the damn –”

Junmyeon was cut off by a knocking on the house door. You held your breath for a while.
He actually came.
Opening your door swiftly you ran past Junmyeon and raced down the stairs. He was following closely behind you.

“If you even think about opening that damn door!” Junmyeon hissed from behind you, but you weren’t listening, you opened it anyway. He actually came, thank God.

“I told you it’s not Red!” You spun around frowning at Junmyeon, who was staring at the door wide eyed.

“He’s upstairs following me.” You grabbed his hand shutting the door and dragging him up the stairs, Junmyeon following closely behind again. You knocked lightly on Kyungsoo’s door, he was no longer in the hallway so you assumed he had wheeled himself back into his room.
“Kyungsoo are you decent, can I come in?”

“Leave me alone.” You heard him say in a blunt tone.
Sighing loudly and rolling his eyes, you turned the handle and opened the door stepping into the room; he was sitting in his chair with his back towards you.
“What part of leave me alone did you fail to understand?” he hissed, wheeling himself around to face you. His eyes widening.
“B-Babu?…” For the first time in two weeks Kyungsoo’s expression had changed, he was visibly shocked and you couldn’t tell if it was positive or negative yet, but it was a start at least.
“What are you doing here?” He looked from Babu to you and Junmyeon and back to Babu again.
It was silent for a moment, an awkward kind, until suddenly Babu stormed over to Kyungsoo and dragged him off his wheelchair letting him drop on the floor.

“Oh my goodness, Kyungsoo” You ran over to him,slowly bending down and making sure he was okay.
“I asked you here to make him feel better, not to abuse him you asshole.” You glared up at Kyungsoo’s brother; rage in your eyes, your arm was still draped over Kyungsoo’s shoulder.

“Help?” He scoffed. “You expect me to come here and believe a corrupt younger brother and a woman faking an emergency birth. Get the fuck up off the floor Kyungsoo. Get up.”

“I can’t Babu.” Kyungsoo said his face crumpling slightly as he looked down at his legs.

“I said get up Soo!” His brother kicked his legs, and slapped him across the face.

“I CAN’T BABU! I CAN’T MOVE MY LEGS!” Kyungsoo burst into angry tears his face turning a bright red. “I can’t…”
You were frustrated, this wasn’t supposed to be what was happening. You called him here to help Kyungsoo, not to make him feel worse.

“If you’re going to do this to him, then get out. This is not what I brought you here for.” You hissed in Babu’s direction, rubbing Kyungsoo’s back. “Junmyeon help me lift him please.”
But before Junmyeon could reach, Babu had slung Kyungsoo over his shoulder and lowered him down on his bed.

“I thought this was another sick joke.” Babu sighed down at Kyungsoo, who was still crying and looking up at his brother in shock.

“Umm… we’ll leave you two to it. I’ll be going to bed. Goodnight.” You bowed your head and pulled Junmyeon out of the door with you.

Kyungsoo’s P.O.V

He stared up at his brother, he was still a bit dazed, not even by Babu’s previous actions, but just purely because of the fact that he was here for Kyungsoo despite the fact that he hated him.
“I-I didn’t know you were coming.” Kyungsoo said between quiet sobs, looking at Babu who was sitting at the foot of his bed.

“I didn’t know I was coming either, I just randomly receive some emergency call from your lady friend about 25 minutes ago, saying that I really needed to come and see you. This house really isn’t far. It’s a wonder that I never bump into you…”

“Actually we moved here about two weeks ago, just after…” He looked down at his legs and let out an exasperated sigh. They both of them were quiet again; it was slightly uncomfortable for both of them, until Babu spoke up.

“This doesn’t change anything Kyungsoo, I’m still mad at you and everything that you’ve ever done to us. This doesn’t change how I feel about you. In fact I don’t even know why I’m here. You know Mama struggles everyday without Dad and you’re to blame for that shit. Why couldn’t you just do well Kyungsoo. Then you disappear when she needs us the most.”
Kyungsoo swallowed hard, trying to suppress the emotions building up in the back of this throat, to prevent the tears from coming. For Babu to still think that he was the cause of his father’s death really pained him.

“You never cared to ask me Babu. You never wanted to hear my side of the story.” Kyungsoo whispered, looking up at his brother sadly. He envied him when he was younger, and he still did now. He was the perfect son. The perfect man. It was unfair, they were cut from the same cloth so why was Kyungsoo’s life worth so much less than Babu’s.

“So why don’t you fucking tell me Kyungsoo, what the fuck is this place and why are you here? Although, I doubt what you say will make any difference to how I feel. You’re a fucking underground criminal Kyungsoo and I don’t want my family having anything to do with you.”

Your family? You mean our family Babu.” Kyungsoo glared at his brother, tears pricking his eyes.

“No Kyungsoo, you’re not part of us anymore. You lost that right ages ago.”

The tears began streaming down his cheeks. He was crying silently, but these silent tears were definitely the most painful he had cried for a long time.
“It’s not fair Babu. I’ve tried my whole life to be like you but I could never reach up to your standards. I was never good at biology Babu, I could never be a doctor! I wanted to be an artist, a chef. But none of you would ever be proud of me that way. I’ve always looked up to you Babu and loved you with all my heart but you never cared for me back. Do you know how much and how long I yearned for my older brothers care and loving. You never gave it to me! I’ve never been good enough for you, you’ve always hated me.” His breathing was heavy and his hands were shaking over the bed sheets, unable to contain the pent up emotion any longer.

“I wasn’t the reason for Dad’s death Babu, but because you loathed me so much, you couldn’t see that. You were too blinded by your hate for me. Dad died because he was being poisoned unbeknownst to us. He was taking those vitamins, remember? Manufactured by the Red company owned by Jay Lee. Well Jay Lee was cutting and splicing those vitamins with toxic substances, to increase the amount of product he was producing, you can imagine the money he was raking in. Dad had been taking them for so long it had time to fuck up his system that’s what killed him Babu, not me! But I left the house because your hate for me had stretched too far and I was a burden to you and mum. Then I found about these guys. Long story short we’re trying to put a stop to Jay Lee, so he can’t hurt anyone else. I joined so he couldn’t hurt Mama. I joined so he couldn’t hurt you! Yes it’s illegal but it’s the only way I can keep you all safe. I already failed you in one way, the least I could do is protect you.” Kyungsoo spluttered, tears dropping from his eyes again and looking at Babu whose face was blank with shock.

“Kyungsoo… I-I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…” He shook his head, still dazed from all of the information that he had received. “I never knew. You never said anything. Why did you keep that to yourself for so long?”
Kyungsoo shrugged his shoulders, tears still streaming down his face. Fatigue hitting him like a truck.

“Kyungsoo I’m so sorry. It’s not true; it was never always like this. I loved you once too. When we were younger, remember the fun we’d have playing outside together, hmm? Please don’t cry Soo.” He reached out his hand to wipe Kyungsoo’s face, but this only resulted in Kyungsoo crying harder. Babu, stood up from where he was sat, shifting Kyungsoo closer to the wall, he sat directly next to him and pulled him into a hug, holding him in his arms for a long while. “It’ll probably take us while to get back to our younger days but maybe…we could try.” Babu kissed the top of his head.

“I missed you Babu, so much. I’ve missed you and Mama every day.” Kyungsoo breathed out, taking a moment to really register that he was currently being held in his brother’s arms, somewhere he wanted to be for as long as he could remember. Babu placed his hands on Kyungsoo’s legs sighing and closing his eyes temporarily.

“You’ll be okay Soo, it’ll get easier alright? The more used to it you get, the more bearable it becomes. Maybe further down the line we can try physiotherapy, although I’m not sure that it would work but don’t lock yourself away from the others you’ll only make it worse for yourself. Talk to the girl at least. She must care and be concerned if she had the guts to ring me, hmm?” He gave Kyungsoo’s leg a squeeze and rose up from the bed.

“Where are you going? Stay. Please.” Kyungsoo pouted, raising his arms up towards where his brother was stood.

“I can’t Soo, I have work tomorrow. Besides I have mum, a wife and a daughter to get home to, they’ll be wondering where I went when they wake up if I’m not there.” He walked slowly towards the door. “Please don’t shut yourself away Kyungsoo it’s the worst thing you can do for yourself. And get some sleep. You look like shit.” Both boys laughed as he closed the door behind him and left the house.


Y/N’s P.O.V.

Since Babu had visited, Kyungsoo’s mood had been a little better, he would still have his really off days and shut himself out occasionally, but he was definitely opening up much more than he had been before. It was 3PM now, and only you and Kyungsoo were at home watching TV.
You had all had a discussion in the board an hour earlier agreeing that, next week would be the week to take out Red and so some of the men had gone out to buy some supplies which may be needed for their ‘mission’ whilst others just simply went to chill out and have a little bit of time to themselves. The day had been running smoothly for the most part, Junmyeon had apologised for shouting at you the way he had when Babu had come and you were on civil terms with Chanyeol at the moment. But you realised that your talk with Jongin and Minseok was still pending, and you probably would have to prepare yourself for something more than just a talk with Yixing. But for now it was just you and Kyungsoo.
He had been fine up until he wanted a snack, since he couldn’t get up to reach the desired snack by himself, he became agitated and started regressing back to his behaviour from two weeks ago which was causing you to become quite restless, you honestly didn’t know how Baekhyun and Chanyeol could do it all the time. At this point, Kyungsoo wouldn’t stop complaining about every little thing and it was slowly driving you over the edge.

“Where’s Chanyeol and Baekhyun. They’re taking so long! What could they possibly doing right now, ugh! Damn it. Can’t you call them or something and see where they are? I’m sure it’s my toilet break soon and I –”
You stared up at Kyungsoo who went strangely quiet all of a sudden

“Umm…are you okay?” you asked

“Hmm? Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” He turned his face away from you and cleared his throat.

“You just got really quiet all of a sudden that’s all.” You turned your attention back to the TV. After a few seconds you began hearing a quiet but distinct splashing sound, frowning you looked around the room trying to locate where it was coming from. Your eyes widened and your face softened when you looked at Kyungsoo.

He had wet himself.

“Oh Kyungsoo.” You said sadly “Maybe we should go and clean you up, I can’t carry you up the stairs…but we can use the kitchen.”

“No! I’m capable you don’t need to.” He began wheeling himself out of the room.

“Kyungsoo no. Stop being so difficult I’m here to help you.” You pushed his chair into the kitchen.
Disappearing to his room you rummaged through his chest of draws, pulling out a fresh pair of underwear and a small black towel. Returning to the kitchen with the items in your hand you walked over to a angry looking Kyungsoo, who grabbed the towel and underwear out of your hands.

“I can do it myself!” He hissed “My legs are broken, not my fucking hands!”
You shook your head, you had never met anyone more stubborn than Kyungsoo and constantly battling with him was really taxing on the brain.

“Yes, I know that Kyungsoo, but you need to lift your legs in order to get your trousers and underwear off don’t you? Stop being so stubborn. It’ll be quicker if I do it anyway.” You grabbed the things back out of his hands. Kneeling on the floor you raised his legs so that they were resting on your lap.

“Y/N wait.” Kyungsoo whispered quickly. “I can’t… I don’t want you to see…”

You smiled at him as reassuringly as you could, trying to put him at ease. You understood why this was so hard for him, he must have been so humiliated by the whole situation.

“Kyungsoo look its okay, there’s no need to be uncomfortable. I’ll get it done quickly okay; I’m not going to comment on what I see. Don’t worry I can assure you I’m not sexually attracted to you, so there’s no pressure to impress.” You winked at him in a playful way and set about pulling his trousers and underwear down. He closed his eyes tightly, his face turning a bright red.

“Oh goodness.” He breathed, covering his manhood with his hands. “This is so embarrassing, you can’t tell the others. Please.”
You stood up walking over to the sink, slightly wetting the towel in your hand and bending back down in front of Kyungsoo.

“Trust me I won’t.” You set about cleaning Kyungsoo, who was keeping his eyes closed for the most part, until you were about to finish up, he opened his eyes staring down. His eyes widened in shock as he slapped your hand away.

“Why is that happening?!” He pointed at his growing manhood and was looking at you in confusion since you weren’t even reacting to how humiliating this situation was. “I’m not sexually attracted to you, I swear!”

“Relax Kyungsoo, it’s called a reflex erection, it just happens when you’ve had physical contact with something. The majority of paralysed men experience it. Its normal don’t get freaked out, it’s all natural. I think it’s got something to do with that part of your spinal cord not actually being damaged although don’t quote me on that I’m not a doctor, you’d have to ask Baekhyun. So if you want to have kids in the future this is good news right?” You laughed a little bit, picking up his underwear.

“Okay can we stop this now I’m getting really uncomfortable I fucking hate this.” His brows were furrowed together. You felt bad for him; you couldn’t imagine how mortified and dishonoured he must have been feeling at that precise moment in time.

“Kyungsoo it’s okay. I’ve finished now anyway.” You were just beginning to help him put on his underwear, when you heard some footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“What the fuck is going on?” It was Sehun; he was standing there looking at the both of you in shock and horror. The last person you needed to walk in on you changing Kyungsoo right now.

“No fuck! It’s not what it looks like. She’s just helping me.” Kyungsoo panicked, covering his member with his hands, whilst you quickly pulled his underwear up over it.

“What? helping you get stimulated?” Sehun began laughing out loud, supporting his tall body against the door frame. “Oi, Minseok! Come and see this! Y/N is trying it on with Soo!”
Shit why did the boys have to return now, you thought to yourself. You saw Minseok, peek his head around the corner and frown, withdrawing his head he disappeared around the corner again.

“Sehun, you asshole!” You hissed.

He laughed at you spitefully, squinting his eyes at you.
“I’m not stupid Y/N I know you were cleaning him up. But if I can use an unforeseen event to my advantage I will. I appreciate you looking after Kyungsoo that’s pretty cool. But like I’ve said before, Minseok is my best friend not yours, so the bigger I can make the gap between the two of you, the better.” He laughed at you spitefully and winked, turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen.
You shook your head, standing up and pushing Kyungsoo’s chair into the living room, where Kris did the honours of carrying him up the stairs. You poked your head into the living room to see if Minseok was there but the only people you saw were Junmyeon and Jongdae.
Sighing you walked upstairs, fatigue kicking in a little. Your eyes widened when you saw Chanyeol walking out of your room and closing the door behind him.

“What were you doing in there.”

He jumped, turning around to look at you.

“Oh shit, you scared me.” He breathed, holding his hand to his chest. “Actually I just left a little thank you gift on your bed. For looking after Kyungsoo while me and Baekhyun were gone.
He grabbed your wrist, dragging you into the room. There was a box of your favourite chocolates sitting on your bed. You smiled up at him punching his shoulder lightly.

“You didn’t have to do that Chan.”

He smiled back at you. “I did. You deserved it. I’m sorry to have dumped Kyungsoo on you, but I just really needed a break, you know?” He stretched his arms out and shook his body a little.

“Dumped me? So I’m a burden?”
You and Chanyeol turned your heads quickly to the open door, to see an angry Kyungsoo looking up at the two of you in his wheelchair. “I came to say thanks, for helping to clean me up.” He laughed disbelievingly at the two of you shaking his head. “Do you know how embarrassing this is for me? I used to be the most independent person in this house and kept myself to myself, now I need help in wiping my own ass. You don’t think I want to end it all everyday!” He was shouting at the both of your furiously now.

“That’s not what he meant Kyungsoo; he’s just tired is all. Please stop you’re going back to that dark place again, you were doing so well.” Kyungsoo rolled his eyes and wheeled himself back to his room.

“Shit. I’d better go after him.” Chanyeol ran a hand through his hair in frustration and disappeared out of your room. You nodded at no one in particular, stepping outside of your room too looking down the corridor to where the two boys had gone off to, but instead you saw Minseok opening the door to his room. He looked down the corridor staring at you as well for a couple of seconds and then disappeared into his room. You found your feet carrying you to the direction of his room and your hand knocking on his door. Goodness, why were you here?

He opened the door slowly. Looking at you standing there for a while, he eventually stepped aside and let you in. You both stood there awkwardly and silently for a moment until you spoke up.

“I was not trying it on with Kyungsoo in the kitchen earlier; it wasn’t what it looked like.” You mentally face-palmed yourself, why were you justifying yourself to Minseok, you were still pissed off with him yet here you were trying to better a situation that you were not even in the wrong for.

“Are you sure?” He scoffed, looking at you in irritation and shaking his head.

“Yes I’m fucking sure! Why would I be trying it on with Kyungsoo, I was helping to clean him up, he wet himself!” You hissed, why were you allowing Minseok to rile you up, you couldn’t understand it.

Minseok sighed looking at you, his features softening slightly. “I know you weren’t trying it on with him Y/N. But it still made me angry seeing you do that for him.” It was your turn to scoff now, and you did it loud enough to make sure that Minseok heard you clearly.

“Angry?! Really Minseok?! What gives you the fucking right to be angry at me. I’m the one who should be angry at you, after you fucked that whore! Melanie was it?” You were trying to keep yourself from shouting, but at the moment you were not doing a very poor job.

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I did it to spite you. I promise it didn’t mean anything. I just wanted you stay away from me. Otherwise things would get too messy around here. I’m sorry, believe me I didn’t want to shut you out the way I did.” He pressed his body against yours, kissing you softly. Suddenly you could taste Minseok all over again and those unknown sparks that you had felt once before had returned to your stomach. But no, you weren’t going to fall into that trap again. Not today. You pushed him backwards away from you.

“No Minseok! This is not a fucking TV Drama. You don’t get to do that! You don’t get to kiss me and pretend it’s all okay, because it’s not!”

He started getting angry again. He drove his hand into the wall beside you. Old Minseok was making an appearance.

“This isn’t fucking love Y/N, you’re not my wife! So why do you care so much! It was only sex!”
Your breath hitched. Tears pooling in your eyes. He didn’t understand, why didn’t he understand?!   But then you thought hard about what he said and realised you were crying because he was right. No this wasn’t love, no you weren’t his wife or his girlfriend, so what he did with himself and whatever hole he stuck his manhood in either animate or inanimate didn’t concern you. Disappointed in yourself, you turned around and opened his door.

“Shit Y/N wait…” He grabbed onto your wrist, but you snatched it out of his grip.

“Get off me!” You hissed, walking away from his room.
You were tired, you needed some sleep.


You feel asleep for much longer than you had intended, crying yourself to sleep was a very effective technique apparently, maybe you would do it more often. Slipping down the stairs quietly you went to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink, taking extra care to be quiet, since you were sure the boys were all sleeping right now. You downed the Pineapple juice in one go, thinking of how you would tackle talking to Yixing when the time came to it. You sighed silently making your way to the bottom of the staircase when you heard a muffled sound coming from the board. Who was in there at this hour of the day? Your interest was piqued so you began walking slowly and quietly down the corridor. Halting outside the door you began frowning at what you were overhearing.

“…As for me I don’t really care what order you do it in. But he wants Baekhyun gone first. Make sure you do it.” The voice on the laptop screen said, your eyes widened in shock. What on earth was going on?

“How can I guarantee he won’t kill me when I’m done?” He asked the man on the screen, sitting back in his chair.

“I won’t let it come to that and…Who’s there?” The man on the screen pointed to you through the camera.

He spun around, eyes wide looking at you. You shook your head in disgust backing away from the board.

“I knew we couldn’t trust you.”




Also I guess this is kind of a well done shout out? to @spnishilarious who correctly guessed it was Babu for emotional support/comfort. You were literally spot on haha.

Tag: @holyzombiechild


Cold Hearted (Prince AU) Part 4

Originally posted by sugaglos

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8Part 9, Part 10Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Summary: After a poor introduction to Jaebum, the tension between you two only seems to grow.

Word Count: 4992

Warning: Blood, violence and smut in later parts.

“When soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.” -Prometheus Unbound

Keep reading

All Work & No Play

Requested By Anonymous

Word Count: A perpetually excessive 4,232

Warnings: A domineering boss, cruel teasing, smut to make even the most virtuous curl their toes. 

Thank you for reading, as always, please let me know what you think, as feedback is a five-star meal for any writer.

 

“Would you like to share your daydreams with the company?” Tommy asked, syllables clipped, “I’m sure they’re very interesting.”

Tommy’s impatiently bored face stared at you, waiting, and you wondered what he had asked, what the odds were of you guessing and answering correctly. But as each second passed since Tommy had caught you longingly staring out the window into the foggy street, the chances of you saving yourself grew worse. John sniggered and you shot him a glare.

Tommy cleared his throat and you moved your glare to him, tip-toeing along the line of being an employee and a lover, a neat reply to your boss having to take precedence over a sassy retort to your beloved.

“I’m sorry, Thomas, what was your question?” Your voice was exaggeratedly collected and Tommy’s lips twitched in reluctant amusement.

“Your numbers. For Kempton.”

“Of course!” you replied, falsely cheerful.

The room reserved for family meetings was warm and stuffy with bodies, the audience of regular Blinders and inner-circle Shelbys watching you two dance around each other as you had been all morning, entertainment and tension mixing together as they gauged you both. The occasions that you and Tommy were short with eachother were infrequent and fleeting, but always heated enough to make everyone want to avoid getting burned by mistake.

As soon as your feet had hit the floor this morning, you and Tommy had started to bicker, both of you overtired and overworked from being in the midst of the busiest race month of the year. Although true anger at each other was rare - no argument ever survived a whole day - stress grated on you both when the days were long and the nights too short, fights over nothing crawling out of the woodwork like irrelevant snakes.

You prattled off your reports automatically, explaining what had to be clarified and glazing over what didn’t. Tommy waved his hand towards you vaguely when he’d heard all he needed to, reaching his hand out for the paper of your numbers, staring but not speaking, never needing words to demand something.

You rolled your eyes deeply and huffed, unable to help the attitude seeping from you as you gave him your list of bets. Tommy exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes stunning in their amused irritation as he tilted his head at you, a single brow arched smoothly. Holding your gaze as his eyes flashed, a decided mischievousness crawled across his chiseled face.

Anticipation settled in your stomach; giving Tommy cheek at work was never one of your better ideas, the consequences varied. You watched the thoughts settle into his mind and you blushed. He just smirked subtly, his eyes not leaving yours as he passed your numbers to John.

Polly cut the stalemate off with a sigh, having been here with you two before, although you were grateful that she didn’t know the half of it. “Can we continue please, or would you two just like to stare at each other and bicker like children?”

Tommy obliged after dosing his aunt with a scowl. The morning meeting carried on as it always did, each report boring you more than the last. Tommy was far from bored, asking questions and giving orders.

But under the table he was wandering, his hand brushing against your knee, Tommy’s violence-worn knuckles come and gone with an innocent swiftness, an accident. But you knew better, Thomas Shelby never did anything without a sharpened purpose. He returned for more, tracing your knee and flirting with the bottom of your skirts, grazing his fingers underneath them.

In hopes that they would force your thoughts clean, your focus on the numbers John was reporting became absolute, paying attention to nothing but scratching the numerals onto paper, no lust permitted inside your tunnel vision.

Tommy turned to you, shoulder brushing against yours, speaking nonchalantly under his breath as to not interrupt his brother, a normal interaction to anyone else’s eye but yours. Pointing to the paper you were desperately clinging to with your pencil, his lips twitched in self-satisfaction as a whisper dripping with sarcasm rolled into your ear, “Don’t bother writing them down, I’ll get them from John.”

“Are you sure?” you asked innocently, still writing, hanging on to your life raft. He trailed his hand up and down your thigh, fingers moving across the silky net of your stockings silently. You kept your voice even, “I might need them later.”

“You won’t,” Tommy whispered, eyes squinted in a nod of false assurance as he took your pencil, sliding it inside his suit jacket.

You dared a glance around the table and were soothed slightly, attention was on John and the discussion surrounding him. A glance at Tommy found him keenly attentive as if his hands were on top of the table and not between your legs. Watching John and Arthur argue with a tense jaw, Tommy’s hand slid back down to your knee, gripping it and pulling it towards him, your legs spreading easily, traitors.

Resuming his climb up your thigh, Tommy took your skirt with him this time, cool air rushing underneath the silk as he pulled it upwards. He played with the top of your stocking, cruelly and slowly tracing it from the snap of your taut garter down to the inside of your thigh, taking his time to do so.

The pulse between your legs throbbed steadily, your skin tingling helplessly as Tommy drew closer to you, fingers dancing away each time he nearly touched the satin of your lingerie. If you weren’t soaked already, you would be soon, and you both knew it. Teasing you skillfully, Tommy played with the skin of your thighs, spending a merciless amount of time tracing the spots he knew would rile you, the same spots that made you gasp when he pressed his lips against them under the sheets.

A sudden wave of panic rushed through you when Scudboat asked you a question, your brief flustering being dismissed as daydreaming, you hoped, and not the desire trying to burn through your skin.

Answering Scud’s inquiry, you felt Tommy swivel his attention to you but you refused his gaze, knowing his expression was smug as he slid his finger over your underwear in a long line. To stop the moan you knew would come if he reached your clit, you shifted your hips backwards and crossed your legs in a smooth motion, finding the correct date and race for Scud before pushing the book towards him. Tommy’s hand lay caught between your thighs, having slid down when you pulled away from him, inches away from being able to torment you.

Frustration rippled through him, you felt it in the flex of his fingers between your crossed legs, moving them slightly. You knew he could push them apart easily, his physical power far stronger than yours; gaining access to you was never something he struggled with. But Tommy wasn’t used to an audience, and the act of spreading you for him required more discretion than he was capable of in a crowded room. 

Tommy bristled in his chair, running his free hand over his face, half-annoyed with you and half-annoyed with Arthur, who was now berating him about something you hadn’t heard.

Gratefully taking the opportunities that appeared as Tommy’s agitation and Arthur’s discourse, you reached for Tommy’s cock - hand meeting stone as you found it, clothed tightly. You kept your movements imperceptible as you rubbed it slowly, your palm hot as you moved your hand down his length and back, the feeling of it making your clit pulse with desire.

Tommy expressed his annoyance by pinching the soft skin of your thighs gently, digging in just enough to make you shy away from the pleasurable pain, his hand gaining an inch towards you each time he did. Briefly abandoning his cock to fiddle with the buttons of his pants, you slipped one out of its place and reached in to meet the hot skin there, the smooth marble of his cock silky under your fingers.

In a nimble twist of his hand, another pinch of your delicate skin helping him along, he forced your thighs apart, unconcerned for the possibly conspicuous results. Tommy never enjoyed playing games where he didn’t have the advantage.

Your crossed leg slid off your knee with his sudden push, the heel of your shoe slamming into the floor like a heavy box that had been dropped, snapping a few heads up and making some others jump slightly.

“I’m taking that as a slamming gavel to end this meeting,” Polly said, unconsciously saving you from embarrassment, standing gracefully and lighting a cigarette, looking at Tommy. “Do you have anything else to add, Thomas?”

“No,” he replied simply, voice strained slightly with irritation, the reason easily disguised as the stress of work.

People stood, freed, filtering out into the office or the street, only a stray few staying behind to ask Tommy questions and immediately regretting it when he leveled them with a glare capable of arson.

Legs open under the table, you sat and felt your breath hasten in need, Tommy leaving you behind to stand and talk with his brothers, air rushing into where his hand had begun to sweat between your crossed legs. You stood, trying to look busy as you shuffled your papers. Tommy walked his brothers out as they spoke to each other in low voices, the duo waving you a goodbye as Tommy pushed them out the door.

The click of the door closing curled up your spine, a gasp barely escaping you before Tommy was back across the room to you in seconds, a voracious look in his eyes as he snatched you up to put you on the table. The wooden legs shifted from side to side unevenly on the floor, rocking you into his chest where he tightened his arms around you, your breath hot on each other’s faces.

Untangling your hand from the locks of hair on top of his head you moved for Tommy’s cock, glaring up at him through your lashes when he caught your wrist and held it. The two of you wrestled like Goliath and a kitten, Tommy’s amused chuckles infuriating you as he easily kept your hands from him.

But Tommy soon grew bored with winning so easily and took your mouth for himself, pouring into you with a carnal ferocity. Your argument from this morning mixed in with the violent unpredictability of business and the hunger of wanting you, your lips moving together, stress flowing out.

“Open your legs,” he said into your mouth, drinking in the tiny moans you let out as he rolled your nipples gently through your blouse.

“Tommy, not here,” you whispered in a rasp, contradicting yourself helplessly as you reached for his cock again, succeeding now that his hands were occupied, Tommy sharply inhaling your sigh as you stroked his clothed length.

The low growl from his chest vibrated into you, Tommy effortlessly kneeing your legs apart to stand between them, holding you close to the edge of the table so you couldn’t back away. “Yes, here.”

Ducking to your neck, he nipped at the thin skin under your jaw, crushing you to him with one arm around your back. Tommy slid his fingers into your mouth, abandoning the love bite he was busy imprinting on your neck to watch you breath heavily as he ran them in a circle around your parted lips, plunging them back inside before starting all over again.

“Good girl,” he murmured, so quietly his lips barely moved. “Such a fucking tease, aren’t you? Should we see how wet you are?”

Nodding around his fingers with hollowed cheeks, you sucked lightly, humming in pleasure. Tommy pushed his fingers deeply into your mouth and kept them there, focusing on pulling your lingerie to the side. Watching your pussy contract and relax, begging to be touched, he didn’t look at you as he slid his fingers from between your lips, reaching down to press them to your clit, rubbing softly.  

“Tsk-tsk, making a mess all over the table already,” he said, taunting you. Warmth spread over your body and mind deliciously as Tommy spread your wetness around in heavenly circles; the excess running down onto your thighs, your ass, and the wooden surface below.

Waves of pleasure shot through you, making you grit your teeth and clutch at him desperately. Your hand finally done with undoing his buttons, Tommy did nothing to stop you when you took his cock out, sliding up and down the satin of his length with both hands, finding a rhythm for him as he found one for you.

Pulling you close, Tommy held you by the back of your neck and pressed your foreheads together as you panted in sloppy unison. The kisses you spared breath to exchange were raw and overwhelming, your argument from this morning being dredged to the surface so lust could wash it away.

“Fuck me,” you whispered, voice made of begging breath as you gripped Tommy’s shoulder tightly, one hand rubbing the head of his cock as he liked, his breath getting caught between his ribs. Grazing your teeth against the shaven skin above his collar, you felt his jaw clench as you wetly kissed your way down the bone. “I need it Tommy.”

“Oh, is that so?” He mocked gently, slipping a finger inside you and drawing it in and out slowly. Tommy shushed you when you gasped, watching you with a devious smile. In smooth motions he would travel up to circle your clit, barely giving the nerves the attention they wanted before returning to push his finger back inside you, moving in and out twice before beginning again. You forced a moan into a pathetic mewl, the sound of the bustling office beyond the closed doors reminding you that you weren’t alone

“You like that, don’t you?” Tommy cooed, smirking in your ear when you didn’t answer, words not something that you could accomplish. “Are you going to keep quiet?”

Managing a nod, your eyes fluttered as he pulled you back slightly to look at you, watching you greedily as he added another finger to your now dripping pussy, stretching your tightness deliciously, your mouth falling open.

Your hand slowed on his cock, mind growing blurry as Tommy slid his fingers in and out of you while he whispered unholy things in your ear, holding you to him with nowhere to go. Leaning forward to bite into the jacket of his suit, you sunk your teeth into the wool so you wouldn’t cry out. The walls of the office were thin, and you two had already learned that the hard way with many jokes at your expense, and dealing with your own share of listening to others.

“Perhaps I should I leave you like this,” he murmured, the low gravel of his voice thick with lust as he continued to play with you, watching your face go slack as he whispered, “Dripping wet like the little tease that you are.”

Tommy made sure your whine of disagreement was caught in his suit, his hand large on the back of your head as he pressed your face into his shoulder, muting you. You writhed in his grip, reluctantly releasing his cock for good to clutch yourself to him, breathing heavily into his chest while every nerve in your body tried to force out the whimpers you were struggling to keep inside.

But you knew Tommy was going succumb soon, his breath speeding as you rolled your hips into him, your quiet gasps apparently permissible as he pulled more and more from your mouth, his brow furrowed in effort as he watched you with icy and starving eyes.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers out, the hollow emptiness stirring a moan of frustration that started in the back of your throat. Tommy pushed his fingers into your mouth, silencing you with the taste of yourself, sweet on your tongue.

Tommy hummed and watched, his hand going to his belt to free himself, his eyes not on his undoing but on your half-lidded ones, calm in his command, “Touch yourself.”

You obeyed, rubbing your clit while you moaned quietly around Tommy’s pussy-soaked fingers. He watched with lips parted, swearing to himself. Knowing just how easily you could make yourself cum, he kept a careful eye on you, pulling your hand away to kiss the tips of your fingers when you began to get close.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Tommy said, his voice darkly controlled, rubbing the head of his cock against your inner thighs, teasing himself as much as you, “And you are not to make a sound. Do you understand?”

You hummed affirmation on his fingers, long having sucked them clean. He pushed you backwards with them, slowly letting you down by your jaw until your head met the table. Hooking your leg over his shoulder Tommy pulled you towards him, pushing your other leg back until he had you opened for him how he liked.

Running his cock everywhere but your entrance, Tommy rubbed his cock on your clit in wide circles, his chest rumbling deeply at the hot silk of your wetness on him. You writhed, lost under his touch, the feeling of release begging to escape spreading underneath your skin in an electric web.

But Tommy could no longer resist, the sight of you rolling your clit against his cock pushing him over the edge. He slid into you with a fast and rough thrust, causing you to helplessly moan his name despite his order and the crowded office beyond. Bending down to you Tommy shushed you roughly, his cock reaching impossibly deeper and driving your back into an arch. His fingers clearly no longer an efficient means of keeping you quiet, Tommy spread his hand over your mouth, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone before squeezing your cheeks, pressing his palm to your lips firmly.

“What did I say?”

You answered him, words lost in his hand. He understood, your muffled mumbling a language he knew, nodding seriously, “That’s right. Maybe if you’re quiet from now on, I’ll let you cum.”

Working his way snugly in and out of you, he let you suffer under the tantalizing strokes of his size while he began to undo the buttons of your blouse. Loosening just enough to reveal your breasts, he pulled your bra to the side until you felt cool air lick at your hardened nipples, Tommy groaning quietly in appreciation as he played with them.

Straightening back up, he squeezed your cheeks for emphasis to remind you of his threat, the choice yours, holding your mouth beneath his hand as he began to fuck you.

You prayed no one would hear the things Tommy was murmuring to you as he filled you over and over; the words alone could burn a church to the ground. His hand held your calf tightly on his shoulder, turning to kiss the bone of your ankle as he kept you open for him, using your leg to pull your ass up off the table when he so chose, driving in deeper when he did, your eyes rolling back.

“So fucking wet,” he swore, his dilated eyes ablaze as he watched himself bury his cock in your pussy, the force of it rocking the table beneath you. Its wobbling legs began to knock against the floor, and Tommy’s eyes left you reluctantly to search the room for a quieter spot, a hunter looking for a safe place to devour.

Sliding his hand down to your throat, he squeezed and pulled you up with his grip, placing your legs around his waist. Walking you to a bookcase, he sat on you on the wide ledge, his cock never sliding out an inch. Barely ten seconds had passed, Tommy resuming his thrusting like he never stopped.

A single gulp of oxygen was all you were able to drink in before Tommy’s hand was back on your mouth, silencing you easily, unconcerned for the heavy breaths you drank in through your nose. He ducked his head into your neck and grunted quietly as he fucked you, pressing you against the books by your mouth.

Both of you grew closer to your orgasms, the strokes of Tommy’s size coming harder as he fought against the wet resistance of your tightening pussy. He held you tightly, his fingers digging into your hip as he shifted you forward to reach deeper inside you, daring you to make a sound.

Moan you did not, channeling your feverish need into a plea for him to let you cum, knowing Tommy would understand the muffled words but not knowing if he’d grant your wish. He said nothing, the only sign he’d heard you being his teeth on your neck, spread in an open-mouthed smile. Asking again, you repeated your mumbled question, the begging in your stifled voice high-pitched as every nerve in your body began to burn.

Ignoring you again, the pace of Tommy’s strokes sped up as he squeezed your mouth hard, taking his leverage. Your cheeks rubbed against your teeth with each thrust, a dull ache that only drove you closer, helplessly trying to keep yourself from cumming as he fucked you hard. A single book fell from the bookcase and onto the floor loudly. Neither of you cared.

“Such a good girl,” he breathed, straightening to watch your face as he brought his fingers to your dripping clit, rubbing it smoothly in quick circles. Your eyelids fluttered and he gave you a nod, holding you tight as he whispered, “Cum.”

Arching into him, you locked your ankles around his waist and let your eyes wrench themselves shut, your hips churning as you felt the flames of your orgasm spread. Noiselessly, you came hard around him, your orgasm stealing your breath and taking over your senses, your legs shaking in release and the effort of staying quiet.

Tommy never slowed as he fucked you through your orgasm, watching your cum begin to drip off of his cock before he succumbed himself. Hand curling around your hipbone, he left lust-shaped bruises as he struggled to hold you still, his thrusts remaining forceful but growing uneven as his cum spilled hotly into your pussy.

The two of you throbbed with the shaking’s of release, Tommy releasing your mouth to slowly to brush your cheek, his other hand running up and down your thigh. You breathed heavily and rested your head on Tommy’s chest, his chin on the top of your head, coming down together. The sounds of the office outside the doors were of perfect normalcy, no whoops, laughter, or loud jokes, and you guessed that the two of you had been quieter than you thought.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Tommy said eventually, muttering as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. It took you a moment to even remember your argument, the irrelevant spat now feeling like a century ago.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied breathily, still recovering from Tommy’s ravaging. But there was no more to be said, a healthy fucking having been what you both needed. “I love you.”

“As I love you,” Tommy responded as always, kissing you deeply before pulling away and leaving you on the bookcase, getting something to clean both of you off.

Reaching your hand out, you watched him wipe you off of his cock, waiting patiently for your turn. But no tissue was given to you, your brows wrinkling in confusion as Tommy pulled you off the bookcase by your ass, standing you straight and crouching down to fix your skirts for you, sliding your lingerie neatly back into its place with deft fingers, snapping it against your sensitive skin. You felt both his cum and yours begin to leak out, stuttering, “Tommy-”

“What?” he asked with mock innocence, straightening back up to stand over you, running his thumb across your lip before lighting a cigarette. “Did you think that roll of your eyes would be forgotten?”

Of course he remembered. You whined slightly, quieted when he kissed you gently, flicking your nose and tucking a sex-loosened piece of hair behind your ear with his finger. He held your chin and stared at you, knowing full well that you were slowly getting soaked, wetness spreading across your lace and the skin of your inner thighs. He kissed you again, murmuring sinful but flirty affections on your lips until he made you laugh, smiling to himself, satisfied by the sound.

“I need your paperwork by the end of the day.” He started out the door before doubling back, whispering at you through a smirk, “And don’t even think about cleaning yourself up, love. I can promise you that I’ll know.”

Leaning back against the bookcase after he left, you sighed, thinking that you shouldn’t enjoy this as much as you did. One last remaining cord of your orgasm made you shiver as the mess between your legs reminded you that you would always enjoy it, no matter how shameful.

Someone called your name from the office and you straightened your hair as you crossed the room, repinning a few curls that Tommy had tugged loose, remembering the consequences of eye-rolls with each step.

What they used to tell me…

A gloomy silence hung over Winterfell that night. It sat balanced on a thread, not even the harsh wind could break the thin string that held the soundless castle up above the blank snow. But it would only be temporary and everyone in the North knew the string would break and they would fall.


If you were to tell the Lannisters that they would fall they’d grip onto the string with their last breath. If you were to tell the Baratheons they would fall they would escape to safety. But the Starks were cunning and the Targaryens were filled with passion it only made sense that they would take the plunge and hold on together with everything they could. That’s all there is when winter is coming.


“Do you know what they used to tell me?” Jon gazed down to the small form laying on his bare chest. He stared into her violet eyes and felt as if he’d fall in.


“They?” He didn’t know who ‘they’ were but seeing Daenarys Targaryen, seeing her heart, they were probably wrong.


“People in my life who thought they knew me, thought that they could control me… Thought they knew what was best for me.” The final line was spat out like poison, the cowards weapon. “They told me I would not rule without a man, without letting some stranger spill his seed into me. They told me women don’t rule without men.” Strangely her voice carried little emotion, rather uncharacteristic of the mother of Dragons.


“What did you tell them?” He pushed her hair back behind her ear as she turned to look at him.


“Dracarys” He could see the fire behind the purple in her eyes, everything that burned inside of her. It was terrifying but he didn’t dare move.


“And now you rule Mareen, Slavers Bay and one day, if we defeat the dead -”


“We will defeat the dead.” She pushed herself up suddenly, defiant even when the odds were stacked ten-to-one. He expected nothing less from the Dragon Queen.


He gave her a half smile, his eyes fleeting over her naked body “If we defeat the dead,” He carried on despite her disapproving look “then you will rule the seven kingdoms.”


She took a deep breath, it took form in the air and the comparison to a dragon could not have looked so real. Dani stood, her blonde almost white hair trailing down to the small of her hair pointing to the roundness of her arse cheeks. She padded over to two goblets and a jug pouring the blood-red wine into each before handing Jon one and taking a small sip of her own.


Suddenly, in the quiet Jon placed down his goblet on the wooden side table “Do you know what they used to tell me?” He sat up pulling the blanket along to cover his lower half.


“That you’re a bastard.” She joked, relieved to see him smile rather than to take offence.


“Aye they did say that but they used to tell me that because I was a bastard, I would never matter. I was simply a hidden shadow in a shadow of better men, men like my father and brother.” He looked away momentarily, she couldn’t know what he was thinking but she guessed it was their deaths at the hands of Lannisters.


“And what did you tell them?” She finished her wine and lay next to him propped up by her elbow on the feather pillow.


“Nothing, I knew nothing to tell them of.” The words were sad but Daenarys could feel the conviction with which he said them.


“And now?” She prompted, leaning in closer, inches away from his face.


“I don’t speak to dead men.” If she didn’t know him she’d have assumed he’d killed them but that probably wasn’t true.


Instead she cupped his cheek, turning his sombre face towards her and tilted her lips to meet his. It wasn’t a long kiss, it didn’t need to be, all it had to say was 'I’m here now’.


To @blue-roses-in-a-wall-of-ice because she makes me want to write better than my best. Apologies I always seem to write heavy fics that carry a lot of weight. Just can’t seem to find the fluff anymore…

anonymous asked:

Andreil + 64?

Sorry, I got carried away and this took longer (and is way longer) than I expected, but enjoy! xo. 

Send me these, please


Neil had tried to stay quiet about it all night, he really did.

It took all of what he had left of his conscious and the meaningful glare Andrew had sent him when Neil had stopped dead in his tracks at the threshold of their small bathroom to refrain from speaking a single word about it. 

He really did.

“You look-”

“Shut your mouth,” Andrew cut him off quickly before the words could breach the air, the hand at Neil’s wrist tightening in warning. “Before I shut it for you.”

“That sounds promising.”

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theguardian.com
Director Francis Lee on sex, piglets and fighting off Hollywood from his hilltop hut
The debut film-maker behind God’s Own Country talks about growing up on a farm – and why his sensational debut is not ‘the Yorkshire Brokeback Mountain’
By Cath Clarke

Francis Lee shot his sensational debut God’s Own Country down the road from the farm where he grew up in West Yorkshire. A love story between two young male farm workers, it’s been described as “a Yorkshire Brokeback Mountain” and has been picking up awards left and right, including a best director prize at Sundance and the prestigious Michael Powell award at the Edinburgh film festival. Unexpectedly, it has been a Hollywood calling card and Lee’s phone has been ringing off the hook.

At least, it would be ringing off the hook if anyone could get through. Lee, 48, lives in a wooden hut on the side of a hill near Haworth in the Pennines – Brontë country. “The mobile phone reception is nonexistent and I don’t have internet,” he says. So where does he go to pick up emails from big-shot Hollywood agents? Lee chuckles. “Keighley library. I’m a big fan of libraries. Or I go round to my dad’s. He’s 10 minutes away.”

We meet in a cafe in central London during a “smash’n’grab”, as Lee calls his visits south. “I come on the latest possible train I can for meetings and leave on the earliest, so I don’t spend any time here.” Does he hate London that much? “No, I’m just a bit of a homebody.”

My mum says I’d have one hand up a pig’s vagina pulling out the piglets and the other on a bacon butty

God’s Own Country stars Josh O’Connor as Johnny, a young farmer whose life on the family’s failing sheep farm is a monotonous grind of work, getting blotto down the local, waking up in a pile of sick, then back to work. One day, a handsome Romanian labourer called Gheorghe (Alec Secareanu) arrives to help with the lambing. Cue the “Dales Brokeback” tag – although a better one might be “Pot Noodle Brokeback”, since the pair carry a giant bucket of the stuff to the remote field where they camp out with the flock.

Lee must be sick of talking about Brokeback Mountain, but he good-humouredly tells me that he’s only watched Ang Lee’s Oscar winner once – when it came out at the cinema in 2005. He has been surprised by the comparison. “I’m not shying away from it; it’s flattering. Ang Lee is an incredible film-maker. But it’s one of those things that gets written in headlines, but when people see the film they go, ‘Well, it’s actually not like Brokeback.’ It feels like such a different story and such a different world. The films are like chalk and cheese in that sense.”

He’s right: the two films inhabit different worlds. Where Brokeback Mountain was set in 1963, when a relationship between two men in Wyoming would have been illegal, Johnny has come to terms with his sexuality. It’s no biggie. His problem is that he can’t open up; inside he’s a knot of repressed emotions. “I was thinking very much about the hardest thing I’ve ever done, probably, which was falling in love,” Lee says. “How vulnerable you have to make yourself, open to love and be loved.” He smiles gently behind a big, bushy Ned Kelly-ish beard.

The film isn’t political, but it does feature a handful of sex scenes that would go unnoticed in a film about heterosexual love. Johnny and Gheorghe’s first roll in the hay – roll in the mud, more like – is frantic and breathless, fuelled on young lust. “It’s the funniest thing that we’re still talking about sex scenes in gay films,” says Lee. For him, the sex is integral to Johnny’s emotional journey. “I’m not a big fan of dialogue. So he wasn’t going to have a conversation where he goes: ‘I’m feeling a bit like this now.’ I had to tell it visually. That’s where the sex really played in.”

Did Lee come under any pressure to tone it down? “There was a debate. I could have made a film that might have taken away some of the threat. Not threat, the …” – he reaches for another word – “the challenge that a wide audience might have. But I didn’t want to do that. You only get one opportunity to make your first film, and it’s the time that you can risk the most.”

In Q&As after screenings a few audience members have challenged him about the absence of homophobia in his portrait of rural Britain. Isn’t it a bit rose-tinted, they ask? “I tell them: ‘What are you saying about people who live there? Are they intrinsically homophobic?’ That isn’t the case. They might not have a liberal middle-class attitude, where they sit around navel gazing about it. But that doesn’t mean they’re homophobic. I haven’t experienced that.”

Lee grew up on the family pig farm in the village of Soyland, in Calderdale, with the hills as his playground. As the youngest child, with the smallest hands, it was his job to deliver the piglets. He grins. “My mum used to tell a story that I’d have one hand up a pig’s vagina pulling out the piglets and the other on a bacon butty. So there was a complete circle of life.” Not exactly The Lion King is it? “No, but I’ve always been pragmatic about life on a farm.”

At 12 or 13, Lee says he decided he wanted to be an actor, and knuckled down at school to get the grades for drama college. Coming out was not particularly important, he says. “It was a kind of non-event. I think it is for lots of people. Which can be disappointing in a sense.” He left home at 20 for the Rose Bruford College of Theatre and Performance in Sidcup. As an actor, Lee was never a household name, but he worked steadily in film and TV, hitting a career high when his film-making hero Mike Leigh cast him in 1999’s Topsy-Turvy. Then, seven years ago, after a stint on Heartbeat, he jacked it in. “I’d fallen out of love with acting, and I’d just get into arguments with directors.” About what? “Because really I wanted to tell my own stories. It got to a point where I turned 40 and thought, I’d better do this or it’s never going to happen.”

Growing up, the landscape didn’t have the feeling of freedom or the pastoral. At times it felt oppressive and brutal

Taking a job at a scrapyard to make ends meet, he directed two short films. He wrote half of the script for God’s Own Country in a static caravan on his dad’s farm and the other half in London. “I type with only one finger, and it’s quite loud.” While the story is not autobiographical, Lee admits there might be a little what-if fantasising about what would have happened if he’d stayed in Yorkshire.

While working at the scrapyard Lee made friends with a Romanian guy – “the most beautiful, lovely man” – who had been on the receiving end of xenophobic abuse in London. His experiences fed into the character of Gheorghe. Lee doesn’t want to go into details of what his friend went through. “That’s his story. But I was shocked and ashamed of the reaction that he got in my country.” Is the film a comment on Brexit Britain? Lee shakes his head. “When I wrote it, it was pre- even the notion of a referendum. I think I was tapping the migrant worker/immigration experience, but I wasn’t thinking about it in a political way at all.” The morning the referendum result came through last June, he was sitting with his editor to view the first cut: “We watched in silence, thinking we might have made a period piece.” He smiles. “We didn’t actually change the edit at all in the end.”

Lee paints on a cinematic canvas. But don’t expect gorgeous vistas of rolling Yorkshire dales. He keeps the camera vice-tight, so close you can almost hear his characters breathe. Growing up, he says, he never looked around thinking: Isn’t this beautiful? “I really wanted to show the landscape in the way that I had experienced it. It didn’t have the feeling of freedom or the pastoral. At times it felt oppressive and brutal. I wanted to see the landscape’s effect on the characters, rather than the landscape.”                      

Lee spent three months working intensively with his two leads sketching every detail of their characters. What level of detail are we talking about? “Everything. Where they bought their socks. Which socks they preferred and why. Whether they took sugar in their tea. I won’t tell you the rude stuff.” He sent O’Connor and Secareanu out to work on farms, putting in 12-hour shifts for two weeks, learning to birth lambs, muck out and drive a tractor. “I don’t like fakery. I wanted everything to be real.”

Right now, Lee is working on three projects he can’t tell me about. Has he been tempted by the offers dropping into his inbox? “The money is tempting, because I don’t have any. But this experience has taught me that a film is going to take at least three years of your life to make. And to be able to care enough about all those tiny little details, you have to love it. It needs to feel like a compulsion.”

I ask Lee how life has changed since God’s Own Country premiered to ecstatic reviews at Sundance last January? “I don’t sit at home polishing my awards or anything like that. I’m a quiet person. I’m not a big fan of parties, razzmatazz or red carpets. When I get up on that hill, everybody knows I have no internet and no phone. And I go round my dad’s and he’s like, ‘Ooh. It’s all right for you, int’ it, with your life of riley.’ It’s a lovely leveller. Very normal.”

• God’s Own Country is released on 1 September.

Antidote | Severus Snape x Female Reader

Request: Only thing is I’d like if y/n was helping Severus one day after she’d landing herself in detention and spotted a small bottle that wasn’t labeled. Being the curious kid she is, she takes it back to her dorm and opens it. She takes a whiff and smells several things that she recognizes as her professor. Y/N then realizes it’s Amortentia. Snape finds out about a missing potion, confronts her about it and idk what else (@myboyjarpad)

Warnings: NSFW gif, Dirty Talk, Smut, Blowjob

Words: 857


Tonight, like most nights, I have detention. Yet another evening spent in the dungeons with Professor Snape. The three hour punishment wouldn’t be so terrible if it weren’t for the unbearable silence. Snape rarely spoke, only scolding those who tried to talk or pass notes or have any kind of interaction.

This time I’m in for trying to sneak into the Gryffindor common room. The fat lady in the painting was particularly grumpy and decided to snitch on me. How could I not try?! The Weasley twins had informed me that they had spiked the punch at the common room party full of puking pastilles, but of course, I had to miss it because Ms. Lady in Pink decided to throw a fit. I’d like to feed her puking pastilles.

Keep reading

How It Works [fic]

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo

Summary: First dates were not a challenge she’d ever had to deal with before, but Momo soon learned that as long as she was with the right person, she didn’t have to worry. 

Rating: G 

Warnings: None

Note: Thank you to @emeraldwaves for beta-ing this! I love this pairing and am so excited to post this for them ^^ Enjoy! 

AO3

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Time for Bed (a Like She’s Mine short story) - Stiles Stilinski

Originally posted by stilesstilinski37

word count: 1562
warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, old feels returning again
a/n:
okay, so if you haven’t read Like She’s Mine, you might want to to understand this story better.  You don’t have to, but it won’t make too much sense I would guess.  You can find the series in my masterlist if you’re interested :)


I was almost asleep as I rocked in the chair, back and forth, humming a melodic tune that ten minutes ago I was singing to my little girl in my arms.  But I was far too worn out to continue singing the words.

“Baby please” I whine softly, looking down at the girl’s wide brown eyes.  “If you go to sleep now, I will buy you a knew dolly, please” I bounced her slightly, but she only began to giggle uncontrollably.

“Mama mama!” She said excitedly, and I frowned, going back to rocking her back and forth.  But her big toothless grin remained present.  Still.  My eyes were slipping shut again.

“Please… please sweetheart for mommy just-”

“Mommy!” She squealed excitedly, her hands even flying up in the air.  Tears were threatening to well in my eyes.  I was so tired, today had worn me out completely, and Stiles wasn’t home from work yet so I desperately needed her to go to sleep.  I sighed, beginning to coo softly as I stroked over the barely there but soft little strands of hair on her head.

“Mama?” I looked over with half lidded eyes to see Madi standing at the entrance to the living room, a stuffed animal tucked between her elbow in her hand, her other hand tiredly rubbing her eye.

“Madi sweetie go back to bed it’s alright” I tried to say as calmly as possible, but she walked into the room, crawling up onto the footstool in front of the chair I was sat in.

“Is Claudia not sleeping?” My three year old asked, and I gave in, giving her a small nod.

“No, she is not”

“I-I’m not sleeping neither” She said, sitting her legs criss cross and placing her animal in her lap.  I recognized it now as the pink elephant Stiles had gotten her, what seemed so long ago.  I smiled slightly at the now worn thing, but it still made me smile, and Madi can’t sleep without it.

“Did you have a nightmare honey? It’s late” I dared myself to glance at the clock, and winced as I expected.  It was already eleven, and two of my kids weren’t even asleep.

“No I-I just wanted Daddy you tuck me in” I smiled sadly at her.

“Daddy left for work two hours ago, have you been awake this whole time?” I asked worriedly.  I had really not been a good parent today, I’m not sure what had gone my way.

“No, I watched Thomas sleep for a little bit”

I sighed, hanging my head in my hand at the mention of the middle child.  At least he was asleep though.

“You didn’t get d sleep?” I asked, and she proudly shook her head, before petting over the elephant’s head.

“I’m waiting for Daddy!” She squealed happily.

“Who’s waiting for me?” Stiles’ voice rang, followed by the opening of a door.  I turned my head to see Stiles walking in, all decked out in his deputy uniform as he took off his coat.

“Dad!” Madi yelled, abandoning her animal on the stool and jumping off to awkwardly run to him.  I watched as his exhausted expression changed into something brighter, as he stooped over to lift the girl up in the air, grinning as he jostled her around a little before setting her on his hip.

“How’s my girl?” He asked, and she answered through a fit of giggles.  He chuckled, dropping his keys onto the table and walking further into the room.  Stiles’ eyes landed on mine, then traveled down to see Claudia in my arms.  “All my girls are up I see?” I quirked half a smile, slightly embarrassed that I was unable to put them to sleep.  But Stiles’ smile widened, and he dropped a kiss at the crown of my head, before sliding Claudia into his arms, and lifting her carefully while setting Madi back down.  The three year old sat on his foot and held her arms and legs around his calf.

“Last I checked, Thomas was sleeping, I swear” He laughed again, then walked into the girls’ room.

“I’ll take care of them babe, you rest” He said, disappearing into their shared bedroom.  But I couldn’t help getting up, wandering over to the open door.  I leaned against it and watched sleepily as Stiles set Claudia down in her crib while Madi crawled up onto her bed.  

“Daddy” Claudia called in a quiet but delighted tone, the kind that makes anyone smile, and Stiles sure did.

“Alright sweetheart, let’s get you to bed” He said softly, leaning over the wooden side of her crib, and placing a gentle kiss on her head.  No other sound came from her as he went to the other side of the room, and pulled the blankets over top of Madi.  “Now, I’m sure that you weren’t trying to be bad for mommy-”

“I wasn’t the one who colored on the wall!” She squeaked out, making Stiles look back at her in shock.

“Uh, okay, I believe you” He stammered out, and I put my hand to my forehead.  “But when I tuck you in and leave to work, when it’s late at night?” Madi nodded.  “You gotta try and sleep, okay? Mommy’s swamped with Claudia and Thomas, but you’re a big girl, you don’t need to be babied like they are” He told her, and Madi grinned.

“Okay Daddy, I’ll stay in bed” He smiled, and stood up straight.

“I’ll go get your elephant” He said softly, and headed out of the room.  He winked at me and took my hand, pulling me with him away from the door.

“Okay yes, Claudia got a hold of a marker while she was sitting on her blanket and playing and maybe just a little bit got on the wall, but I wiped it all off! It’s clean I swear-” Stiles cut me off, turning to me and pressing a sweet kiss on my lips.  When he pulled away I couldn’t help the smile he left behind.  “What was that for?”

“You’re the best mom, I love coming home to you” A blush rose on my cheeks now while he grabbed Madi’s treasured toy in his hands.  “I love coming home to all of you” He corrected, squeezing a hand on my shoulder then going into our daughter’s bedroom to give Madi her animal.  I dragged myself back over to the rocking chair, and fell onto it.  The plush cushions never felt so good as my eyes drooped shut, even better than our bed.  Probably just because it was closer and I could sleep faster if I just stayed here.  “Baby what’re you doing?” I didn’t even open my eyes when I heard Stiles’ voice.

“Nothin” I replied, still trying to doze off in the seat.  I heard Stiles let out a soft laugh, before his footsteps neared closer to me.  I didn’t get the chance to see what he was doing before he lifted me up with ease, and sat where I’d been resting, setting me on his laps, my legs hanging over the armrest of the chair.  “Stiles,” I giggled slightly as I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck.  “What’re you doing?” My voice came out in a mumble as I snuggled further into him.

“Momma’s always rocking the kids, rocking daddy-”

“Stiles” I said in a more scolding tone as my hand smacked at his chest, but he just smirked playfully and continued.

“Someone’s gotta rock momma” He said in a quiet tone, holding onto me as he moved the chair back and forth, just as I had previously gotten Claudia to fall asleep.  I was smiling as I buried my face into the crook of his neck.

Stiles and I have been married for a year, and after Madi had two amazing children.  Thomas, who was sort of my surprise present for him at our wedding, and after him came Claudia.  All three of them were bundles of joys, although sometimes could be a pain in the ass.  But I wouldn’t ask to change a single thing.

“How was work?” I asked him softly, and he just hummed.  My eyes opened so I could look at him, concern taking over.  “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” My fingers nervously began to play with the buttons of his brown uniform.  Somehow over the years we’d spent together I could read him better than myself, or even Allison.

“Fine I’m just… tired of this missing person’s case is all” I frowned, leaning my head back on his chest, my hands still holding onto his shirt.

“You’ll figure it out, you always do” I told him, and he smiled down at me, his arms tightening a little and pulling me impossibly closer.

“I love you” He murmured, and kissing my head.  I tilted back slightly, so he could see my grin before I kissed him properly on the lips.

“I love you more” I whispered back, then leaned against him to try and sleep again.  “And I hate when you work late” I muttered more angrily.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm” I hummed against him.  “Claudia and Madi aren’t the only ones who can’t sleep without you here” I said before falling asleep there in his arms as he cradled me.

I really did love the life we were living together.


i’m really happy to be sharing mini stories with you, and i hope i can get madi herself, @celestial-writing to make some with me :)

xoxo ~ jordie