#deadpan and frances react! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cillianmurphysdimples · 27 days ago

Text

Oh My, Look at Those Eyes

A Tommy Shelby Fanfiction - Part One

WARNINGS - mental health issues, drug and alcohol misuse, sexual misconduct

Tommy is spiraling - Ada tries, Lizzie is losing her strength, and Arthur doesn't know if he can get through to his little brother any longer.

“Well?” Lizzie raised her eyebrows as Ada set her handbag down onto the bar. With Frances taking the children, Lizzie had escaped Arrow House after two failed attempts to talk to her husband. By the look on Ada’s face, she suspected that her sister-in-law, too, had got nowhere in her promised attempt to get through to the brooding Shelby man they both orbited around.

Ada raised her eyebrows right back as she took the stool to Lizzie's right side. She watched Lizzie pour her out a glass of whiskey while she rooted inside of her handbag for her cigarettes. “He's…” Ada sighed, drawing her lighter and cigarette box out. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

“Opium, or alcohol?” Lizzie asked, pushing a glass towards Ada. “Or is he still…in his head?”

Ada practically growled in her frustration. “All of the above, I think. I don't know…” she sighed once again. “He's not been himself since everything , we know that, but things have been worse since he was elected. And now, since Michael,” she shrugged again as she lifted her glass. She sipped at the harsh liquid and licked at her red-painted lips. “...I think he'd take Michael's head clean off his shoulders given half a chance.”

Lizzie scoffed a mirthless laugh, “It isn't often you get a second chance once you cross your brother.”

“Even family,” Ada deadpanned as she lit her cigarette. “But he takes Polly's word seriously.”

“But right now you don't?” Lizzie asked, lighting her own cigarette.

“Trust Polly?” Ada sought clarification, “Or Michael?”

Lizzie thought for a moment, “Both?”

Ada shrugged her narrow shoulders once again, “I'm not sure what I think. But Tommy… he's worrying me. That opium has to go.”

“I tried,” Lizzie shook her head, resigned. “He reacted by being the Tommy Shelby he presents to his every adversary, and held me against a wall while he forgot that we were married.”

Ada frowned and then sighed sadly as he let Lizzie's words sink in, “I…I…,” she stammered. “I'm sorry, Lizzie. Tommy's not like…he isn't…”

Lizzie shook her head, “Not usually, no. But that fucking opium.” She huffed smoke through her nose angrily. “Could Arthur get through to him?”

Ada scoffed, “Arthur is lovesick without Linda, and he's playing in the snow…” she tutted. “I don't know - perhaps he could. It's Tommy, after all. Arthur still looks at him and sees a six year old some days, I think.”

Lizzie smiled sadly, “Maybe that'll work in our favour right now.” She raised her eyebrows and reached for her glass of whiskey. Sipping, she placed the glass back down but kept her fingers wrapped around it. “Nothing and nobody else is working - maybe Arthur is our last hope.”

Ada swallowed the remains of her own drink and drew hard on her cigarette. She let the smoke funnel from nose as she pulled a stray strand of tobacco from her tongue with the painted red nails of her right thumb and index finger. “I'll speak to Arthur, for the time being maybe you could take the kids to mine? Karl would love the company.”

Lizzie smiled, “I don't know if taking them away will only make him worse,” she said softly, “But thank you for the offer. Maybe let's see what good Arthur does.”

“What are you doing here?” Tommy looked up from his desk, a slew of papers before him that he had paid little attention to for over an hour. His glasses were perched on his nose and, despite them being a fixture of his face for a while now, Arthur still felt his stomach lurch when he remembered the state Tommy had been in at the hospital all that time ago. He wondered if he still got headaches, he wondered if he still had dreams, and he wondered if Tommy would answer him honestly if he asked him.

Arthur walked towards the desk with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Was passin’,” Arthur lied.

Tommy's right eyebrow rose, “Between Warwickshire and Birmingham?”

Arthur stuck to his lie, nodding his head. “Pourin’ me one?” He nodded to the half-empty bottle of gin on the desk, sat beside an empty cut crystal glass.

“No.” Tommy licked his lips. “Ada or Lizzie?” He asked with a sigh, as he sat back in his chair, and threw his glasses down onto the paper stack before him. He sniffed as he took a cigarette from the open box on his desk and lit it with a flick of his lighter. He tossed the heavy lighter down beside the glasses, then poured himself a glass of gin. When he sat back again, cigarette between his lips and glass in hand, he eyed Arthur sharply. He hadn't answered, and Tommy took it as immediate disrespect. “I asked you a fucking question.” He said, tossing his head slightly to flick his hair from his eye. He took the cigarette from his lips.

“I was passin’.” Arthur repeated his fib.

“Yeah,” Tommy breathed the word out along with a cloud of smoke and a mirthless laugh. “Under the say so of one of them.” He sniffed. He pointed his cigarette-wielding hand towards Arthur. “Dictated to by a woman, brother.” He shook his head. “You forget who you are.”

Arthur hummed, “Okay, Tom.” He dismissed him. Tommy scoffed and shook his head, bringing the cigarette back to his mouth. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke forcefully away before he brought the glass to his lips and swallowed the contents in one mouthful. “What are you doin’, Tommy?”

Tommy set the glass down onto his desk. “About what?”

“About anythin’,” Arthur drew his hands out of his pockets. “About Michael, or Mosley? About you?”

“What about me?” Tommy reached for the bottle again and refilled his glass in a generous pour. He placed the bottle back down and looked up at Arthur. “Eh?” He turned down the corners of his mouth. “What about me, eh?”

“You're a mess, Tommy. Lizzie says Ruby don't even wanna be alone with you. She's a kid, Tom.” Arthur shook his head, “What are you doin’? She's a kid. Sort yourself out, man.”

Tommy's surprise at Arthur's bluntness showed clearly across his face - both eyebrows rose sharply and his piercing eyes widened dramatically. He nodded slowly, as in awe at Arthur's reply as he was ready to lay knuckles to cheekbones. “You can leave.” He mumbled and licked his tongue over his full bottom lip.

Arthur shook his head, “Nah,” he turned down the corners of his mouth. “I mean, I'll go, but when I do I am takin’ every ounce of booze and every fuckin’ little bottle you've got.” He sounded and, he hoped, looked more in control of his uncertainty than he felt.

Tommy smirked, “Yeah?” He breathed the word out - attitude and anger rising - and his eyebrows rose impossibility further along with it. “Yeah?” He repeated, louder and deeper.

“Can't you see what you're doin’, man?” Arthur shook his head, holding out both hands at his sides. “Whatever answers you're hopin’ to find for Michael or Mosley…they ain't in the snow, or the opium, or Dad's fuckin’ recipe!”

“Where are they, then, eh? The answers.” Tommy asked, then knocked back his drink in two, unbroken mouthfuls. He noisily slapped the glass back down. “If you know so much, Arthur, you tell me where I can find the way forward, eh? What's the answer?”

Arthur shook his head and sighed heavily, “I dunno, Tom. I ain't got the answers. But all this,” he waved his right hand before him, gesturing at the desk, “...and whatever you're doin’ to Lizzie and the kids, that ain't it.” He shook his head again, “It ain't it, brother.” He stared at Tommy for a moment, watching as he poured another glass. He rolled his eyes as he heaved another heavy sigh. “Ada told her to get the kids away.”

“Ada isn't thinking clearly.” Tommy muttered as he set the bottle back down and swallowed the clear liquid in the glass down with a noisy gulp. He slammed the glass down and breathed out fiercely, then inhaled deeply on his cigarette. He let the smoke funnel from his nostrils, drew what remained of his cigarette, and aggressively stubbed it against the full ashtray to his right. “And with Linda off the scene, you can't really lecture me about my woman, can you?” He shook his head and exhaled a lungful of smoke.

Arthur kept his face as neutral as he could, but it was difficult, at least until he allowed himself to go back to that place in his mind that he had when he walked into the office. At that point, his face, he was sure, was as sad as his heart. “It's Ada not thinking clearly, Tom - or-or is it you?”

Tommy's right eyebrow rose again, and he fixed steely eyes on Arthur across the room. “Don't do that.”

“What? Care about my kid brother?” Arthur tutted.

“Insist that I'm broken, Arthur. Insist that I'm…” Tommy gestured at his head briefly before dropping his hand down onto the desk, and linking the fingers of both hands together. “I am fine.”

“Fine? You at least started taking things for the pain in your head, Tom. I don't believe you do it just for fun, not all the time.” Arthur shook his head slowly, “...dreams, or headaches, brother?”

“Shut up.” Tommy snapped loudly. “I am fine! And I told you, Arthur - you can leave.”

Arthur nodded his head slowly, glancing around the room just to break Tommy's intense gaze. When he looked back, Tommy was fumbling another cigarette free of the box before him. “You’re fine? Okay. Alright then. So, where are you, then, Tom? Eh?”

“Here,” Tommy snapped again. “Here, brother. Trying to keep control, to-to keep any more shit from seeping in…” he grabbed his lighter. “That's where I am, Arthur.” He clamped the cigarette between his lips and lit it with a shaking hand. He knew Arthur was watching, he didn't care enough to conceal it. “You,” he drew the cigarette down and pointed the same hand at Arthur. “Can help, or you can leave.”

Arthur held his palms up before him, silently admitting defeat. Whether he couldn't argue further, or just didn't want to, he wasn't sure. “Okay, Tom.” He dropped his arms. “And, eh…I'll have Frances ring me when it's time to burn down your wagon, eh?” He stared at Tommy for a second, then turned and walked to the door. When Tommy said nothing more, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

#my fic #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #lizzie shelby #lizzie stark #ada shelby #ada thorne #arthur shelby

46 notes · View notes

localgirlbecomesobsessed · 5 months ago

Text

The gang reacts to episode 13

Olivia would react like the MC did so I didn't add her into it ;)

Not proofread just my thoughts as I went along.

Xena •_•

Her worst nightmare…working with Frostheim again 😞

The chaos duo become a trio, she only agreed to attend class cause pro Nic was like Xena 😞stop skipping lessons ffs

She’s also so curious about dio but it is like prying teeth out and even Kaito won’t tell her anything, she tells Leo and they add it to the huge list of mysteries that Darkwick holds.

She is also surprisingly good at anomalous medicines which is why she gets a free pass away with skipping a lot.

Xena 🤝 Luca thirst for knowledge gang

Xena when she realises she has to do another mission with Frostheim: are you SRS rn 👁️👄👁️ shawty (Luca+kaito) say sike rn

She is texting Leo and Sho live updates with all the new info she’s getting as well.

When she realises it’s Lapona/france she decides to 1000% not be a translator for them and promises herself to keep her mouth shut.

Feels more at ease when she realises it’s an actual investigation.

Xena 🤝 Leo giving eachother live updates and making fun of Thoma whilst they investigate him

The outfit included a metal strap that wraps around her thigh so she wouldn’t have to outwardly use her cane; Thoma tells her it’s so the people attending the ball won’t pick upon a weakness(it’s lowkey in case she tries to hit someone with it.)

Doesn’t mind the outfit this time, even though it’s white and that’s just asking for it to get stained. They did also get her long sleeves to cover her arm tattoos as well, Thoma saying they can’t have her appear as a vagastrom dissident when she’s meant to be an attendant of the king.

Xena🤝 Jin wanting to stay in the limo+not wanting to be there or around anyone at all

When her and Jin go to talk to the prince, she immediately screws up and replies to him in French, she purposefully ignores Jin’s stare as they continued the convo.

She introduces herself normally but in French; cackles at Kaito’s smooth talking. Starts getting excited about the case when they mentioned the mirrors as it piqued her interest.

“The girls into guys with snark attitudes” was an @ at Xena as well for her relationship with Leo(she’s catching strays just because Kaito can’t get a date.)

Literally tries to escape with Jin to the room but Thoma stops her…purposefully moves in the way of the stranger to get the drink stained.

Xena staring unimpressed as the kyklos comes onto the mirror •_•; 🪞 inwardly shes a lot like the mc but she’s refusing to show it, especially when she’s at the ball~the breakdown can wait.

Immediately picks up the weird vibes between Jin and Thoma; she doesn’t trust Thoma at all but has a tense truce with him due to his relationship with Alan but it’s a very tense and on a thin line type of thing.

No one call tell Xena’s being serious when she says it scared her cause she says it with such a deadpan face as she eyes Jin suspiciously.( clocks the mirror anomaly getting him)

When she meets jin on her way to the vagastrom dorms; she’s annoyed that her chill evening walk and eat time was being disrupted but curiosity overtook that.

Literally calls Thoma an idiot to Jin’s face as they walk cause why would you go the same night your king looks at you with an off energy 😭😭

She’s mentally adding the clash information crumbs to her board.

Doesn’t acc think Thoma is the spy but keeps quiet about it for the moment as she doesn’t have enough supporting evidence and it’s still mega shady.

Leo 🤝 Xena knowing everything and gathering all info on Thoma.

Xena outwardly sighs when Thoma brings up the breaking and entering

She was actually impressed with how quick Thoma adapting to Jin’s arrival.

Thoma has to awkwardly stand there when he says he’s going to walk her back to her dorm and she’s like this is my dorm I have a room here.

But also Leo is like oh 👁️👄👁️🫶🏼you’re both gonna keep me up all night and Xena’s like think before you speak Mon Cher

Xena being dragged into convo by Luca happily talking French to her (I hc they slip into it when they talk to eachother)

Xena adding Kaito’s pendant to the list of mysteries but also get a bit protective of Kaito cause she doesn’t like the vibes of Marius.

Then the prince is found dead and she’s like ah my time has finally come.

Immediately stands back to observe the family and notices how Marius isn’t saying much but the other two siblings are one talking to eachother and trying to get out as soon as they can~ she was going to say something but then Thoma throws a wrench and announces that they’re paranormal investigators

Xena’s face when Thoma asked if she wanted to go back and not investigate a crime scene 👁️👄👁️

She was at her happiest investigating the grisly scene, documenting and updating Jin (via text) and Thoma about the discoveries irl; goes full research mode into curses about mirrors, especially like the one found next to the prince. Immediately tried to pry the briefcase away from Thoma to find out what's in there.

Although, Xena is sympathetic for the princess' situation, the curse and the multitude of deaths, her eyes are startlingly sparkling as she searches through her baggage, Thoma eyes her in concern but ignores it.

Xena accumulating evidence that it's Marius especially after the princess said she didnt expect Marius to come and that they had a terrible relationship. She actually shares with Thoma her suspicions and he just hums in thought and and gives a vague reply much to Xena's annoyance.

Xena is trying to figure out what's going on with Thoma, trying to think of why the fuck Thoma moved from vagastrom to Frostheim, it didn't make sense to her and as she keeps trying to unravel the mystery of the clash it's just driving her crazy.

Xena is mega concerned for Jin, like he does not seem mentally well and she's like should you not call a therapist or something? •_•

Professor Nicolas (next to Dante) is one of her favourite professors at Darkwick; inwardly cries when Thoma asks her to come to Frostheim cause she just knows she's about to be inbetween a couple's dispute.

Xena mentally adding all the information onto her clash conspiracy board as Jin and Thoma have their confrontation.

Afterwards she has to pretend that she had no idea that someone clearly pinned the ghouls ahainst eachother, 'geez golly Thoma you dont say '•_•-the only reason she's actually believing what he said was due to the fact she knows Alan wouldn't do anything nefarious (or she just trusts Alan a bit too much.)

Xena's deadpan face as Thoma told her he's entrusting his king's heart to her, unsettled Thoma deeply and he didn't want to show it but he regretted entrusting her immediately. Rather a cryptic smile it's a grimace.

Xena when her prime suspect ends up dead 👁️👄👁️

10000% knew that Prince Hugo was dead (detective instincts be strong) when confronted with the dullahan she immediately knew what it was, she's watched Durarara, feels guilty for letting Thoma take the hit and is hating the fact she doesn't have her cane with her (it's not like she can use a judo move on a bloody headless horseman)

Sends it to Jin anyway, even though this isn't her first rodeo, wants confirmation and to keep him involved and informed on the situation (she does not want him to feel more ostracized than what he already feels)

Xena has locked into the same info as Thoma- they're excitedly chatting about the facts (three truths of the case) Both of them are surprised at how well they work together, when they both go to confront the princess with the situation, they rattle off their deductions, the only thing they didnt agree on was the princess killing Hugo, though Xena wouldnt of guessed suicide.

...Until Jin texted her back and she was like omg ofc.

Saves the girl but left with a tragedy, when the chaos duo-Thoma and her are in the vault they discuss the events and Xena finally puts this case to rest.

Does think to visit Jin to check up on him but Thoma shoos her off.

Immediately goes to Leo and Sho to catch them up on all the drama that’s been happening~she does reprimand Leo about outing someone’s illness like that but it’s one ear and out the other.

She doesn’t mention about what she saw in the mirror to them but lets it slip to professor nicolas when he checks up on her again….

She really does hate Frostheim missions but she got to spend time with Luca (and Kaito) so at least she got to see her boys.

———————————————————

Cathrine 🧪

Cathrine freshly estranged from her rich family who were defo in the upper circle of high class society and not wanting any part of that life anymore…

She’s in class for once to help fix the projector and is curious about this Christmas event; more curious about this dio person…

When she gets the text she thought it was another confrontation about one of the projects Frostheim had set for her but was slightly relieved when she realised it was about a mission.

Cathrine’s face when she clocks on to what the mission is 🫣😞😪

Thoma’s monocle glinting menacingly as he reveals that the three of them will be attendants for Cathrine and Jin, Kaito’s screech as he asks what thoma’s talking about was enough to burst an eardrum.

Hahahaha so I was the daughter of xyz company (can I think of a company name?atm no.) vut Thoma chimes in like publicly you’re still their daughter and Cathrine has to remind herself that she can’t murder the vice-captain.

Her outfits slightly different to co-ord more with Jin (sly one Thoma) as they approach the limo she slips into high society mode and it freaks Kaito and Luca out cause where has the mad scientist gone? Who is this quiet and polite woman sipping champagne 🥂

Whispers as soon as they enter the room as the rarely seen daughter of xyz comes in along with king jin, much to both of their displeasures. She can already see all the suck ups approaching so very eagerly follows along with Jin when he goes to the prince.

She knows the royals from her appearances at balls (not as close as Jin) but familiar enough to carry a convo (yes she does speak multiple languages including French so her and Jin are doing fine.)

The extrovert mask is strong in this one, as her and Jin kept having attempts of conversation thrown at them, as she hadn’t had to have the mask on for ages she was way more tired than usual when the prince and princesses approach.

Awkward cause they were like oh last time we saw you Cathrine, you had that awful injury we hope you’re well 🥹and Cathrine’s like ahahah backs all healed <3 you cuties shouldn’t worry about me but how’s your father he doesn’t seem well, she beats Thoma to the punch much to his surprise as she easily guides the conversation.

Jin 🤝 Cathrine - being crushed on by a royal family member (Hugo for Cathrine-princess for Jin)

Tries to put in a good word for Kaito as she feels kind of bad for the poor guy but knows the princess has her heart set on Jin

Was going to join Jin in the room but got trapped in a conversation by an old associate (Jin took the chance to escape when she gave the Ok)

The associate ‘accidentally’ spills wine on her and Cathrine’s murderous intent couldn’t be hidden causing Luca to step in smoothly as she swiftly escaped.

Like Xena-Cathrine doesn’t show her outward distress at the sight of kyklos and clinically details her responses and what happened-immediately sending it over to Yuri and Jiro to analyse when Thoma wakes her up from the trap.

Speaking of Thoma they’re like frenemies, bitchy comments being thrown back and forth, though it’s much less than usual due to Cathrine’s fake personality snapping in.

When she’s back in the room with Jin and Thoma; she senses the tension and tries to ease it, tries to get Jin to talk to her but he’s fuming with thoma’s existence.

Doesn’t admit she’s scared of the kyklos curse but advises Jin and Thoma on what anomaly they’ve narrowed it down too.

When she’s on her way back from the shop, she has a cold beer in hand and a small pot filled with karage (shoutout to Sho); she’s humming happily to herself when Jin interrupts and she’s like 👁️👄👁️do you want some?

He did not.

On their journey they’re smoking a cigarette as Cathrine tried to awkwardly fill the air with words of encouragement and soothing, trying to cheer up Jin (it seemed to be slightly working until they got to vagastrom)

She gets dragged to vagastrom and is literally chowing down and drinking as she watches everything unfold, she offers to share some with Jin before they get there and he’s like 😒 no fucking thank you-but takes a sip anyway.

Felt insanely bad for Thoma when the meds got pulled out; she’s been there and in a similar situation it’s not nice; but also was already trying to overview different meds that might be less addictive (though she’ll have to get thoma’s permission to look at alternative roots for him) she may dislike him but that doesn’t mean she wants to leave him in pain.

Tries to keep up with the clash drama but is more like 👁️👄👁️ she’ll ask Rui about it later

Is cringing at the confrontation and was about to follow Jin as he left only for Jin yo disappear before she could.

Thought Leo would’ve caused more of a riot but alas. ( was lowkey proud)

She was trying to oull as much info from Thoma as she could on the way back only for the slippery snake to avoid all her questions.

She does not offer any food or drink to Thoma and finishes it as he looks at it in slight jealously. Smokes a cigarette and blows smoke in his face when he gets too close and abruptly leaves him outside as she runs into the cathedral.

The next day~ when they meet up again; she’s kind of smad that they just left Jin behind (even if he’s just refusing) double texts him to check how he’s doing -is ignored.

Cathrine and Luca slip into a mixture Latvian and French as they speak with Hugo much to everyone’s confusion.

Steers the convo away from Kaito as she didn’t want him to get uncomfortable.

Knows how shady Marius is and has heard of the rumours of the mother’s death. Isn’t openly hostile but you can sense the heat behind the smile.

Slips into clinical mode when the dead body is revealed, analysing and makeshift autopsying after the siblings are guided out of the room.

Notices there’s something wrong with the head an is like er Thoma pls get this to Nicolas asap.

Tries to get Hugo and the princess away from Marius to ask them if something’s up but doesn’t get an op; Thoma reveals the paranormal investigation and she’s like 👁️👄👁️omfg okay we’re going this route.

When Thoma gave her the option to go back she was going to take it-checking in on Jin and helping Nicolas with the autospys when she realised if she left it all to Thoma who knows what else would happen and it's unlikely things would go down well if she left the frostheim ghouls to deal with the situation, the chancellor and heads of Darkwick would not be happy with their inspector avoiding her responsibilities.

Clinical and detached as she reviews the crime scene again, as well as with her interactions with the princess much to Thoma's and the princess' surprise. Too professional in a way that comes off cold, Cathrine concludes that it's Marius, due to her own personal experiences of watching families like the royals turn against eachother one after the other.

Cathrine doesn't particulary care about Thoma's reasoning or backstory, she's got too much on her plate; she does want to know wtf is going on with the clash though, if only to unravel the mysteries and find out how everything got so fucked.

Inbetween going to meet Professor Nicolas, she calls Jin (who surprisingly answers) she treads lightly around the coversation and it was only a short and sweet one with Cathrine doing most of the talking but it was enough for her concerns to rise even higher.

Professor Nicolas and Cathrine get distracted and indepth with the conversations, Thoma angrily pulling her out of it as he reprimands her for taking too long. He calls for her to join him to visit the king and shes like :/am I gonna get involved in an argument no thx and he's like hmmm does the academy know about the abomination in you-

(fighter robot)

'Yeppers I'll be there!'

Cathrine awkwardly standing there with a cigarette in her mouth as she watches them argue, 0-0, she does a Xena. She tries her best to be there for the both of them, but once she's kicked out the room with Jin's threat to Thoma to never use her power again fresh in their minds. He cheerfully tells her the unfreezing of Jin's heart is now her duty, she's like respectfully I am slowly turning in an anomaly (cryo chamber building may pause this but this is the reality for her) and have academy promising my deathI do so, but okay I will also do this. Not for you but because I like Jin and the guy look's like he's about the have a crash out x10.

Cathrine the next day when both Prince's end up dead and a dullahan tries to kill her, 'this isn't going to be good for the tour.'

Mortkranken medical training comes in handy as she helps Thoma who is very obviously injured and sneaks him his meds (which she now keeps a baggy handy.)

Is actually upset about Hugo dying, knows he's a good guy and wouldn't kill his own brother without good reason unlike Marius, pipes up when the Princess tries to say it was her like no no we both know that's not true and she knuckles down on that point when Jin sends her the text much to the princess' displeasure as she calls for the Dullahan to kill her.

They save her and Cathrine who swore to keep away from high society promised the Princess to keep in contact and even helped in her correspondance with the academy, helping her work out a deal.

After everything goes down and she's back in the vault with the Frostheim ghoulies, she and Thoma break down what really happened and afterwards she attempts to visit Jin only to be stopped by Thoma and Alan, she sighs and leaves them too it knowing it's something all parties needed.

She immediately goes to Mortkranken to help Professor Nicolas with finishing up the case and analysing the anomalies, awaiting to hear back from Jin and for Rui's bar to open...

#tokyo debunkers #xena #tokyo debunker oc #tokyo debunker #cathrine #alan mido #jin kamurai #I am now a cathrine x Jin shipper? like omg the possibilities...#I felt really sorry for Thoma this episode but also even more for Jin #get bro a fucking therapist

6 notes · View notes

icarusbetide · 1 year ago

Text

my odyssey with the shitshow that is legends and lies, the patriots

i'm watching bill o'reilly's show legends and lies, the patriots and it is wild. 💀 for a show that claims to disperse legends and myths it sure does feed into a lot of narratives. it's actually impressive, how it dramatizes these events and people to the point where every single figure is inaccurate and somehow less entertaining than their actual selves. didn't get to every episode because not all of them are online.

up to the war it's mostly a lot of dramatization that doesn't really add anything and is still horrendously awkward. but the constitutional convention onwards is where i sat there and went. oh, this is bad.

it's obviously not equipped to handle the jefferson-hamilton rivalry and the resulting political factions because it dilutes both figures so bad lmao.

jefferson is just pouting 24/7. they have the actor say the quote from the letter he sent washington about the dinner bargain where he went " hamilton tricked me sirrr he literally duped me into a compromise" without any context. and when washington later calls him out on his sneaky newspaper bullshit he just sits there sulking. like give the guy some credit, he could scheme! he was a far better politician than hamilton! if you're going to try to break down the mythological image of jefferson as the holy patron of the common man then do it all the way! he wasn't like "but sir :(" and then gracefully concede defeat wtf. they make it seem like jefferson lost to hamilton and then later suddenly won (?) without delving into the attacks on hamilton's reputation and how it was a very effective campaign.

also, there is a lot to explore in jefferson's arguments themselves. it would be worthwhile to delve deeper into why exactly he opposed hamiltonian policies, how he thought it would affect the union, etc. to be fair the show does talk about how he thought hamilton would create a monarchy, which is true - but it's just barebones, you know? maybe a bit more detail to actually strengthen both sides' argument if your goal here is objectivity and truth.

i'm a little lad who wants berries and cream!

and you could probably guess this from what i just said about jefferson but hamilton is exactly the ambition-crazed machiavellian schemer you would expect him to be. what's worse is that they don't go into his actual actions that can be critiqued all that much. like why exactly did he want the whiskey tax? what consequences did it have? there's a lot of complexity to dig into, both in how he reasoned he was taxing a luxury, how the farmers reacted, etc. or how there was speculation (duer) that strengthened jefferson's concerns; none of that's really addressed properly. once again, just barebones. this man did not conceal his thoughts, there's a lot of ammunition and yet.

it's hilarious because from his very first appearance as aide-de-camp they kept doing these sneaky cuts to his face where he's just side-eyeing with this deadpan expression. at the time i was like "wtf is wrong with this editing" but i think they were trying to foreshadow 😭. for the rest of the show he's always sitting in corners, smoking and staring at jefferson/washington.

and the quasi-war is so bad. so bad. they address hamilton wanting to use the war as an opportunity to establish a standing army but go about it so heavy-handedly it just becomes wack. in the show, hamilton is so crazed by his jealousy towards adams that he'll do anything to take power (his ambition did have a role in it but it's weird that they don't say anything about what the french were doing at this point, why americans were divided? not even sure if non-history buffs will immediately realize that this war with france is due to the french revolution and la dih dah.) and this what he says after mchenry claims that adams will want washington as general again:

"But His Excellency is far too old to command from the field. He will give his command to a trusted friend. Someone...perhaps...he once thought of as a son. *smirk with McHenry*."

the last part? "someone he once thought of as a son" BITCH if you did any research you would know that hamilton was screaming crying throwing up at the mere THOUGHT of being considered washington's son. you can hear the villain music in the background. no, literally, you can actually hear villain music. i love this show so much.

then it tells us "yeah hamilton took power" but where is washington in all this? the guy who insisted on hamilton being his 2nd apparently out of love for his "son" (lafayette found dead in a ditch). dying in bed according to the next scene lmao.

so yeah hamilton is a shitshow but that also ruins washington because he's in that weird position of being idolized and also diminished. "yesss slay washington you are so talented as a spymaster and spotting talent but also you were manipulated by hamilton! but also you fully supported hamilton's agenda! you were such a good president i love you."

and john adams is so weak it's an insult to the man. at least show us that hater energy. wdym adams went "i had thought you had stopped this obsession of yours" to jefferson when jefferson was complaining about hamilton? maybe he didn't hate hamilton as much at that point if that's what they're implying? but the show makes him into this affable guy, who didn't want an army (the man longed for military glory) and only dismantles it because he realizes that jefferson was 100% right and it was all hamilton's quest for power. the french are nonexistent in this french-american war, which is my biggest grievance.

and aaron burr...the less i say about this show's aaron burr the better. didn't even try for historical accuracy. didn't try for anything besides "mwahahaha i am a politician! with no ideas! and i will say that to your face hamilton" so yeah the hamilton that they portrayed as crazed for power (in the same 40 minute episode i tell you) is suddenly a great judge of character. maybe at the end they did make him slightly sympathetic? it talks about his public fall from grace after the duel so some points for that.

and look at this shit y'all. can't make this up.

sigh. a historian says "jefferson insisted on seeing hamilton as a power-hungry monarchist" but then the show makes it seem like that's the truth. all the historians are saying things and then the show's scenes are saying something completely different so the entire thing is ???? wtf is the goal of this thing?

besides all of this, it's a wild ride based purely on the absolutely terrible hair. you will not believe how bad the hair is. i shit you not i screamed ten times wondering where the hell they got wigs that can look that bad. watch it just for the hair actually.

and of course the strange, awkward editing and flashbacks that are probably confusing to people who are normal and don't keep historical dates/events marked up with these people's lives. washington dies and comes back to life in flashbacks like 3 times.

it sucks! it's not even entertaining but there are moments of humor and ridiculousness; the bad hair really saved this thing. i might be harsh, given that i just defended hamilton the musical for its relative inaccuracy, but i find it fundamentally different because this show claims superior historical accuracy. it looks and feels like a low-budget documentary and it's just. wrong. at certain points. if it wants to get real into the nitty-gritty of these complex people then you have to commit! it couldn't quite abandon the common impression a lot of americans have towards jefferson, couldn't abandon that perspective of hamilton. but then it doesn't delve into the actual mistakes and darker actions of these people. maybe it was in a different episode but i saw no mention of the reynolds pamphlets, jefferson's relationship with sally hemings, diplomatic deals, or whatnot.

not only is it a ultimate failure at clearing up legends and lies, it probably created some new ones instead. only part that was relatively okay was benedict arnold's i think.

#alexander hamilton #george washington #aaron burr #thomas jefferson #john adams #historical hamilton #amrev #legends and lies #tale of the shitty docu-series #wtf is this thing

15 notes · View notes

black-streak · 5 years ago

Text

Little Pistol - The Investigation

Chapter 14

First Previous Next

I'm really trying to continue this, I promise. I know the updates are rare and spaced, but I promise this isn't being abandoned. Please let me know of any changed usernames so I can update the taglist, assuming you still want to be tagged. Song by Sugarcult.

Highly recommend listening to the song, it's so fitting for the inner turmoil here.

Permanent list

@naoryllis @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @my-name-is-michell @maribat-is-lifeblood @dast218 @novicevoice @shizukiryuu @princess-of-fangirls @bigpicklebananatree @pirats-pizzacanninibles @abrx2002 @breemeister @darkthunder1589 @thestressmademedoit @severelyenchantedwonderland @isabellemasen @multi-fandom-freak0221 @fantasyloversblog @bzz75 @cloudiedraws @orbitsvt @gingerdaile @sotheresthatthought @kadmeread @novaloptr @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @crazylittlemunchkin @18-fandoms-unite-08 @tiny-goddess-of-chaos @ladybug-182 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-alice-of-hearts @vixen-uchiha @changelinggarden @unrepentantgeek

LP Taglist

@zalladane @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @elmokingkong @queen-in-a-flower-crown @karategirl119 @dreamykitty25 @danielslilangel @melicmusicmagic @xahriia @sassakitty @yin-390 @zotinha456 @indecisive-mess-named-me @heldtogetherbysafetypins @theatreandcomicfreak @alexandriamw @messymessyml

~---~

Jason's hesitance in the doorway was noticeable as Tim led the silent lady into the living room of their safehouse in the Coventry. This particular location chosen for its proximity not only to their base of operations, but the rooftop he'd originally pinned their guest to. Their guest truly was silent too, not only from lack of speaking, but the movement of her clothing, her steps, her shifting weight all completely muted into nothingness. Had he not felt her solid wrist within his grip, Tim could easily pass her off as a ghost. Even still, the life form trailing him felt haunting. A sense of foreboding laying like a thick blanket over the room.

Coming to a stop in front of an armchair, he pressed down on her shoulder, watching as she complied, body lowering into the chair while maintaining perfect eye contact. The whisper of what wanted to be a smile stayed on her lips as she settled, as though they were old friends meeting over afternoon tea. It put him on edge.

She shouldn't feel so comfortable with both of them closed in on her, anonymity on the verge of collapse as they scrutinized her every move.

Tim waved Jason off as the other reached for a set of ropes.

"Don't bother, she can escape them."

He seemed to mull the words over before narrowing them down to their based meaning, "You're saying she chose to be captured."

"Yes."

Their guest's eyes flashed in mild amusement before settling back into the blank void of almost smiling. It was creepy, like a porcelain doll come to life for a flicker of a second only to make you second guess if it ever happened at all the next.

"Why isn't she talking? She seemed to have plenty to say before," Jason squinted at her, keeping a reasonable distance, one hand hovering over his left holster.

Tim shook his head, "She responded to one question, then ignored the rest."

"Huh. So like a puzzle then."

"What." Tim deadpanned.

"No no, hear me out," Jason waved his hands about, seemingly catching the lady's attention as she followed the motion, "she answered one question, right?"

"Yes?" He folded his arms, waiting to see where Jay was going with this.

"So it's not that she won't respond to anything. Only to things she decides are worth answering. Whether that means things she sees as important or just too noteworthy to pass up, I'm not sure, but she seemed pretty quick to jump on Bat-wannabe and demon spawn's case, so I'm hedging towards the latter here."

A startled giggle makes both men snap their head towards the cause.

"Demon Spawn," she mumbles, earning a grin from Jason and an eye roll from Tim. Jason was just grateful he'd forgone the helmet tonight so she could see the positive reaction.

"Definitely the latter then," Tim sighed, reaching to rub his eyes, only to drop his hand back down at the reminder of the mask pressed to his fingers.

"Easy peasy then," Jason sat on a crate normally used as a makeshift table in the barren apartment, unbothered by the way it made his knees knock into the lady's.

"Sure. Easy."

"Yeah, all we gotta do is intrigue her enough to want to talk to us. And that can't be too difficult, otherwise she wouldn'ta bothered talking to begin with, isn't that right, sweetheart?" He leaned towards her with a friendly smile. One that wasn't returned.

"Yeah, seems to be working wonders," Tim mocked.

"Just give me a sec, I haven't even tried," he waved Tim off, focusing on the figure before him, "so, you seem pretty calm considering the circumstances. That got more to do with your confidence in your abilities to escape or more an interest in being captured?"

Silence.

"Were you hoping we'd use the ropes? I could bring them back if you're into that kind of thing."

More silence.

"What's got you tongue tied anyhow? See something you like?"

Dead silence only this one came with a delicately raised eyebrow and a glance in Tim's direction, as if to say, 'He always this cocksure?'

Jason lept on the action even still.

"Oh, he got your interest back there? I guess that makes sense since you talked to him first. That reminds me, how'd you react so fast when that lowlife got that lucky swipe in, anyhow? Unless you were already there?"

Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him at the lack of speech from the other, not reacting even to the callout.

"Feel free to dazzle us at any time," Tim called over.

Her lips twitched up.

"Oh, I see. Only willing to interact with little red then?"

A head tilt.

"What about demon spawn? Anything to say about him? Or what about big brother pretender?"

Her eyes snapped up to his, narrowed and... calculating?

"Think I struck a chord?" He turned towards Tim who only shrugged only to be wrenched back to focus as a tiny hand gripped his arm tightly, the previously complacent figure now tilted forward and staring him down with a hard look, flickering over his face as though the mask wasn't even there. Before he could even twist her arm away, she murmured out, "You're the second Robin, aren't you?"

Oh. Maybe calling Dick their big brother even jokingly was a mistake. Oh well, too late now, and what did it really matter if she knew? Not as though it connected back to his civilian form.

"Yeah. You figured that out pretty quickly."

"Faked your death? To get away?" She asked, voice gruff and heavily accented.

"Died and brought back. Weird magic shit. Almost lost a bit of me on the way back."

"Should you be telling her that?" Tim bit out.

"What's it matter if I do? What's she going to do with that? She's not even from this country. Besides, you want her to trust us enough to talk, might as well instill a little trust in return, ya know? Not like we're interrogating her, otherwise you woulda taken over by now," Jason eased Tim again, his own words sparking his own thoughts back into motion, "Which reminds me, you travel here the normal way? Cause it'll be pretty easy to look up young women who've traveled here from France."

"Weird magic shit," was the deadened response.

"Touché."

"Why's your voice so hoarse?" Tim asked, finally moving forward to rejoin the conversation fully, only to watch her rub her throat.

"Not much of a talker?" Tim continued, meeting her eyes, "how long since you held a full conversation with someone then? Days? Weeks? Months?" Her eyes flickered, "Months then? Why? Why not talk? Why talk to us now?"

Her entire figure seemed to droop, caving into itself and finally she responded to him directly, "I'm alone."

While Jason seemed confused, it's like she struck something deep within Tim. Something that understood. That wanted to reach out and contradict her just so they could both be wrong.

And right as he reached out to do just that, the seat beneath her opened up in a pool of black ink that dragged her under only to close back up, leaving his hand outstretched towards an empty chair.

"Fuck, now I'm even more confused," Jason groused, standing up and kicking away the crate as he went.

"Yeah…"

#ml x dc #maribat #timinette #timari #Dark!Timinette

170 notes · View notes

writingwithacupoftea · 5 years ago

Text

Of black cats and lessons to be learned

Summary: Someone is meddling with Y/N Shelby’s work at Shelby Company Limited and Tommy jumps to conclusions that he’ll later regret.

Word Count: 2242

A/N: I honestly still don’t know if I like this ending, but let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy it!!

The rain poured down outside the window of her office at Shelby Company Limited, and occasionally a large drop would bounce loudly off the glass. Normally Y/N would find the sound comforting, but today it was just downright fucking annoying. But as the door to said office bangs open, Y/N knows that the rain is going to be the least of her worries.

No one ever enters her office without knocking but Tommy.

And Tommy never lets the door bang unless he's pissed off.

Despite refusing to look up at her elder brother and boss, Y/N felt his glare on her as he stormed over. When Tommy slammed last week's accounts onto her desk, she slammed her pen down and glared right back at him.

"What the fuck is this?" Tommy demanded.

"Last week's accounts," Y/N deadpanned, not breaking eye contact.

"This isn't the time for jokes, Y/N, this is serious. They're riddled with mistakes for the third week running. Mistakes that could be lethal to this company and people's view of us"

"Well everything was correct when I handed it over to your secretary, I checked and double checked everything," as usual, Y/N added silently. "I keep telling you, my work is being meddled with!" Whilst Y/N appeared calm, her blood was boiling.

Tommy slowly took out a cigarette and lit it, in what she assumed was supposed to be an intimidating manner. It would be, to anyone but her.

"I've been having dreams about a black cat. Someone is trying to steal my crown." He sighed. "For someone so intelligent, I'd have expected better from you, Y/N" The woman in question was stunned into silence.

"Seriously, Tommy, me? I'd have expected better from you than to go around making accusations like that, both as your employee and as your sister. I've supported you through everything. When everyone turned against you, I was there. And you have the nerve to stand here and say that I'm trying to overthrow you." Y/N's anger was starting to seep through into her words, and a tidal wave was sure to follow. "You know that I loved Grace when you married, but GOD you were completely blinded by a good fuck all those years ago, and do you know what?" Y/N leaned forwards, menacingly, "I think the same has happened again."

With those few words, Tommy reached the end of his tether, slamming his hand onto the solid wood desk. "ENOUGH! If that's what you think of me, let's get the truth out in the open, eh? I think you've wanted this since the start. I think you've wormed your way around the company and the rest of this family and, blinded by your ambition -"

"My ambition?!" "you've forgotten the one main obstacle in your way. Me. And I'll tell you something else: I’m not moving for anyone."

A tense silence fell in the room. Y/N, holding back her tears and refusing to show any signs of weakness, simply nodded. "That was quite the speech, Thomas. Rather hypocritical too, might I add, lecturing me on being blinded by ambition. But I'm not even going to try and defend myself against those ridiculous claims because, when it's too late, you'll realise just how wrong you were." Y/N's voice was icy cold, and she picked up her coat and bag. "I only have two things left to say to you. As your employee, I resign, you can sort this fucking mess out on your own this time. And as your sister, well, you're not my family anymore." With that, Y/N stormed past him, out of the building and let the rain disguise her tears.

***

The only family member that Y/N had spoken to since the incident was Esme. She informed her sister-in-law that she was going to spend some time on the road with the Boswell's, a gypsy family who Y/N had become very well acquainted with, but they hadn't spoken since. It wasn't running away, it was an attempt to break free. That's what Y/N kept telling herself anyway.

Her time on the road had been exactly what she needed. The freedom, the open air, all the things that Y/N never realised that she had missed so much. Yet it was still tainted with memories of Tommy. Memories of happier times, when he would chase her around and play games and smile. Y/N had accepted that the war had changed her older brother, but the day she stormed out he was completely unrecognisable.

They used to always have each other's backs. She always wanted to make her beloved brother proud, but never wanted to be 'just like Tommy', despite Arthur and John's endless teasing. They were each other's rocks, the one reliable thing, and now that feeling of security had faded away like the smoke from his cigarettes.

Y/N was destroyed by the incident in her office, even though she hid it well. Now, two months into her time on the road, she was ready to be busy again and so set out to find a new job.

***

It had been four months since any of the family had seen or heard from Y/N.

Tommy had discovered that, as usual, his sister's instincts had been right and there had been someone trying to bring the business down from the inside. And it was the secretary. And she was part of another criminal gang who were rapidly expanding. A black fucking cat if ever Tommy saw one.

The traitor had had the nerve to tell him that the way to tear the company apart was to, quite simply, shatter the relationship between the two people who had the greatest minds and the strongest relationship: Y/N and Tommy.

It was the truth and Tommy knew it, having already felt the impact of her absence dearly, both on the efficiency of the company and on himself. But the it was too much for him to handle, and had let Arthur and John see to it that the secretary couldn't reveal any more truths to him.

He had never realised how important his sister was to him, how loyal and how much he needed her. With every day that passed without hearing of Y/N, Tommy became more and more anxious. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself and the rest of the family wouldn't forgive him either.

But the day that Tommy did get news of his beloved little sister, he almost wished he hadn't.

'A sister for a sister, seems fair enough, don't you think, Mr Shelby? We'll be in touch.'

Along with the note came a bullet. A bullet with Y/N's name etched into it, wrapped in her bloodied handkerchief.

***

Sheffield had been the nearest city. That was why Y/N chose to stop there. What she didn't realise is that it was a city rife with gangs.

She had fallen in with another gang, the last thing that she wanted to do.

And now she was locked in a cold, damp basement and, though she hated to admit it, Y/N wanted Tommy more than ever.

Beaten and bruised, she felt like a little girl again with her desperate need to be enveloped in her older brother's arms once again. But despite her wants and her needs, she had refused to break, even when she had been battered to the point of unconsciousness in her kidnapper's attempt to get information out of her.

She would protect her family and their company until her last breath. She would protect Tommy as he had protected her so many times in the past.

But it wouldn't come to that, because Y/N Shelby was far too stubborn to die whilst being guarded by a man that couldn't even count to ten. And so, with this new found strength and resolve, she planned her escape. As much as she wanted her brother, she damn well refused to let him come riding in like her knight in shining armour...

***

Days had passed since Tommy had received the note. The Shelby clan had all reacted in their own ways, but no one was as torn up as Thomas Shelby. He was drinking more, lashing out more, and no one knew when he was going to completely snap.

The family had poured all of their time and energy into searching for their sister, and yet they still didn't have a single lead. All they knew was that the traitorous secretary hailed from Sheffield, however there was definitely more than one gang based there.

But one day, a gloomy day where the rain poured down outside the Garrison, the people of Small Heath were able to stop living in fear of the leader of the Peaky Blinders' next outburst.

Thin, trembling, black and blue, Y/N Shelby stumbled through the door to the pub, where her family were gathered. Crystal blue eyes locked with hers, widening in shock and relief. But that was the last thing she saw before letting the exhaustion take over her, and her body collapsed to the floor.

***

The hours that followed were a blur for Tommy. Not caring that everyone was watching, he had scooped Y/N into his arms and refused to let her go as John had driven them to Tommy's house; even though it was only a few streets away, he didn't want her getting any colder than she already was. She was as pale as death, and Tommy was scared.

Polly had come round, he remembered, to tend to Y/N's wounds and settle her down into his bed. She had shooed him out of the way as he tried to stay in the room, not wanting to leave his sister's side now that he finally had her back.

After she had gone, well, Tommy didn't know how long he sat by his sister's bedside. It could've been minutes, or hours. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Y/N look so vulnerable. Since he had come back from France, she always seemed so strong. Maybe, Tommy mused, she really was too much like him sometimes. In his dedication to the company, he'd started to forget that she was his little sister first and foremost, and not just his best employee.

The next morning, Tommy was still so consumed with his guilt and worry that he didn't even notice when Y/N first woke up. Yet at the small voice saying "Tom?", his attention moved completely to his little angel.

"Hello, trouble," he said, a glimmer of a smile passing over his lips as his sister glanced quickly around the room and then straight back to him.

"I made it," she sighed softly, tears finally beginning to pour down her cheeks. "I'm home."

"Shhh now. You're here, you're safe, and I'm not gonna let those bastards touch you again." Tommy brought her hand, which he had been clasping tightly since the moment that Polly had finished, up to his lips, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "And I am so, so sorry, sweetheart. You were right, you're always fucking right. If I'd just listened to you, you wouldn't be in this state now. I love you so much and I'm so sorry..." Tommy continued rambling quietly to himself, and Y/N was alarmed to feel his tears hitting her hand. She was also amazed to hear the Thomas Shelby say the word 'sorry' - he usually said it through his actions, and never actually said it out loud. But here he was, unable to stop whispering it to her.

"Tom..."

"Don't you dare fucking tell me that this isn't my fault." Y/N was brought to silence by the severity of his voice. "I failed you, Y/N/N."

"You've taught me so much Tommy, and I love you more than anything, but speak to me like you did all those months ago and I will leave again. Maybe it's time the roles were reversed and you let your little sister teach you some things, yeah?" The siblings chuckled at that. Tommy knew that he couldn't cope with her leaving again. He just couldn't. His entire world had crumbled in the time that she had been away, but at the same time he knew that Y/N was right. Painfully, he added, he knew that she'd be right to get away from him if he ever became like that again.

Y/N saw the tear tracks left on her brother's face and the look in his eyes that told her that he was scared that she was going to vanish right before his eyes. She knew that, as much as this conversation wasn't over, it could wait for another day, and she patted the space next to her on the bed. "Come on, you big old softie."

"Oi, watch it." Tommy replied, sternly. However Y/N saw the teasing glint in her brother's eyes as he gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his chest, and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

As they lay there, the sun gently began to break through the clouds.

***

Both of them had a lot to learn, they knew that. But they'd do it together in their typical Y/N and Tommy way.

And the first lesson that Y/N learnt was that when Tommy Shelby said that he wasn't going to let you out of his sight for a while, he really fucking meant it.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders sister #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister reader #tommy shelby #shelby sister #shelby!sister #shelby!reader #peaky blinders imagine #shelby sis #thomas shelby

795 notes · View notes

stickyhoney · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Fugitives

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: You have fled with the war criminal Steve Rogers, known as Captain America, to a small village in the north of France. After months of hiding, tensions and feelings have peaked.

A/N: This will be my first multi-chapter work, so be patient with me please. Also seeing all your comments and messages makes me so happy, so keep them coming ;)

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Adult Language, Sexual Tension, fluff

Chapter One:

“Would you give it a rest already?!” The wooden door cracked against the hinges after your strong push. The echoes of the door hitting against the wall reverberated strongly throughout the small cottage that the two of you had called home for the past 3 months. Steve was strict on not using the word “home” however, even though America had turned its back on him, he could never call another country home.

“How many times have I told you?! We can’t talk to the locals!” His voice boomed against the confines of the kitchen. You could feel the vibrations of his steps under your feet. His stomps rivaled an elephant’s when he was angry.“You get to talk to the men in the village everyday! All I did was introduce myself to the women in the square.” Your tone leveled out by the end of your defense. You remembered you shouldn't have to defend your actions.

You were both knocking your boots off onto the floor, leaving dirt all around the doormat. Old hardened clumps of clay remained from workdays past, blades of grass from the garden out back. Steve hung his dark ballcap on the hook by the door, with a sharp snapping motion. “Do you think I choose to spend my time out there with those men? I do that to make sure we survive. Those are purely professional relationships, they know nothing of me other than my ability to split wood with my hands.”

Flashbacks back to Clint’s family farm make your heart warm for a brief moment. The sound of his children squealing with joy, calling you auntie, haunted your memories. You let your hair down, shaking it until it falls to your shoulders. “Why can’t I work in the village like you do? Steve… I haven’t spoken to anyone other than you for months. I can’t keep on this way.” Your mind and heart were exhausted from these past months. You had left everything you had ever known behind, and adopted the moniker of “war criminal”. The feeling of isolation had been beating the both of you down, Steve was just better at coping.

“You act like you have a choice.” His voice was flat, his tone cold. Sometimes it startled you how much Steve had changed, he was nowhere near the sweetheart he once was. He was now a rugged, hardened, survivor. The long sigh you let out signaled defeat, at least for tonight.

Dinner was the only time you could convince Steve to relax. It had been your secret mission to give you two a piece of home through food, even if you didn’t always know what you were doing. Tonight was spaghetti night, Steve’s favorite. Gathering ingredients in the garden had become an unspoken tradition between you. It was all so domestic, picking tomatoes from the vines and clipping parsley from the herb garden in the kitchen window. Your small garden and patio had become your haven from the daunting trials of your new normal.

The wooden spoon dragged through the thick marinara sauce you had made, causing whirls of hot steam to rise up to your nostrils. The comforting aroma filled the cramped cottage, every nook and cranny had been permeated with tomato and parsley. Behind you, feet dragged on the tiles towards you. “Huh, smells pretty good.” Your lips pull up into a faint smile, a giggle rises from your chest. “You sound surprised.” You turned around with the large pot of sauce to find Steve within a foot of you, causing your hands to release the pot. Steve’s arms quickly react and catch the pot inches from the ground, small drops of sauce splashing out onto the tiles. “God Steve! You can’t sneak up on me like that!” You drop down onto your knees with a towel to clean up the mess, somewhat embarrassed at your jumpiness. Ever since that night… it had been getting worse.

“I can’t fucking help you get scared so easy!” You rose back up to him, trying to keep your embarrassment hidden. “I’m sorry, I- I can’t help it.” You tried to sound strong, but your words came out timid and meek. Steve’s eyes softened after realizing what he had said, realization hitting his features. Pity was never something you wanted from anyone, especially him. “[y/n]...” His hand reaches for your elbow, in a sympathetic gesture. Tears began to well up, your face was reddening, so you moved your body away from his. Acting like everything was normal when nothing was, it was a lifestyle for the both of you. Dinner went by normally, with only a few words said, most of which were grunts of satiated hunger.

“Ice cream?” Your eyebrow kicked up inquisitively, even though you already knew the answer. Steve was a sucker for ice cream, especially this certain kind you picked up from a vendor in the village. It was made from the woman's fresh blueberry patch. You made sure to keep a carton in the freezer. Steve places a hand over his non-existent food baby, and grunts. “You know I do.”

You struggle to stand after downing three full plates of spaghetti and two bowls of salad. “I’ve never seen a woman eat as much as you do. It’s unnatural.” You sat the carton down on the counter, and began to take bowls out. “Did you see Nat eat? She could eat a house full of food in one go.” You were giggling through the last few words until you looked back, a cold Steve with a deadpan expression. He always goes blank when the past comes into conversation.

“We’ve gotta let the ice cream thaw…” You skated across the tile floors in your socks, towards the living room. You wanted to get his mind off things, he had been a jerk lately. Even when Steve Rogers was mad at the world, he had never been so coarse with you. There was one thing you knew that Steve loved… even if it was a hundred years ago.

Your fingers picked up the needle and lifted it across and down onto the black vinyl record. The cottage came with an old vinyl record player, it was hidden under an old white sheet in the corner of the living room. Steve never paid it any mind since it had been broken, but you had secretly been fixing it for the past month. The faint buzz of the needle connecting to the moving record reverberated through the silent house.

“Strangers in the night,

Exchanging glances

Wandering the night,

What were the chances

We'd be sharing love

Before the night was through”

Frank Sinatra’s sultry voice carried you back into the kitchen. When you entered Steve had stood up and stood so rigid, that he reminded you of a soldier standing at attention. “What’s that look for?” You had bent over in pain from trying to contain your laughter. He looked as if his commander walked into the room. “What are you doing playing that music?” You knew he loved Sinatra, probably because it transported him to a simpler time when he knew all the answers. Get the bad guys, defend your country, get the girl.

You stood back up, jokingly going expressionless, and standing more rigid than a wooden board. “Well soldier, I was anticipating doing some dancing.” You tapped the back of your heels together and stuck your arm out towards him as an invitation.

“Something in your eyes

Was so inviting

Something in your smile

Was so exciting

Something in my heart

Told me I must have you”

“I don’t dance [y/n]. You know that.” His body began to decompress, the tensity of his limbs dissipating, his eyes lowering. You purse your lips into a playful pout, and place your palms out as if you were a beggar. “C’mon, make a girl happy. I’m sure you’ve got some move in you.” Steve breathed out a long sigh, and ran his hand back through his long dirty blonde hair. “C’mon, I promise I won’t bite…”

You step in closer to him, your hands reaching for his wrists. He meets you halfway, stepping towards you. “I might be rusty.” Your left hand guides his around your waist while the right holds his out beside you upright. You chuckle under your breath knowing he was lying, he took charge and led the dance.

“Strangers in the night

Two lonely people

We were strangers in the night

Up to the moment

When we said our first hello

Little did we know

Love was just a glance away

A warm embracing dance away”

After a few moments, you laid your head on his chest. The coarse material scratched against your cheek, but was soothed by the heat this man was radiating. He was like a damn furnace. His hands were worn from the daily manual labor that kept a roof over your head. Steve began humming along to the chorus, his deep vibrato sending vibrations through his chest. You couldn’t help but bask in his scent. His must and leather jacket mixed for a lovely combination, one that had become ingrained in your being. You knew he didn’t like using the word home, but he had become yours.

Your free hand wrapped around his back pulling him in closer, your thumb tracing circles. It was the untold promise between you, keep things friendly. The promise was becoming harder and harder to keep, but the both of you knew why it was important to keep. Silence passed between you for a few minutes. "Thank you for this [y/n]."

The vinyl record fades into silence, the only thing the two of you were swaying to was the sound of the wind whistling through the weeping willows branches out front. "Oh the ice cream!" You jump out of his embrace and run towards the carton on the counter, the blueberry ice cream had turned to a thin consistency. "Noooo whyyyyyy" you cried out as dramatically as you could. You turned back to see that Steve was gone, and heard his bedroom door shut quietly across the house.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #nomad steve #steverogers #steve rodgers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #rpf #marvel

57 notes · View notes

merakiaes · 5 years ago

Text

What A Man Needs - John Shelby

Pairing: John Shelby x reader

Requested: By @meteora-fc

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: This isn’t proofread so I’m sorry for any possible mistakes. Might come back and change some things later, I’m a bit writer’s blocked so it’s not very good. But I hope you like it xx

Wordcount: 3305

Summary: You find John sitting at the curb all by himself in the middle of the night, and you offering him a pair of listening ears and a shoulder to cry on.

You loved working at the hospital. Becoming a nurse had always been a dream of yours, and you had first gotten pulled into the line of work when the war struck.

You had been a nurse in France during the last year of the war.

You had wanted to go already when the war first started, but at the time, you had been too young and you had to wait until you turned nineteen just like men had to do before signing up as soldiers.

But although you had only been there for one year as opposed to most of the other nurses who were stationed at the trenches with you, you had gotten to see enough gruesome horrors for a lifetime, so to say you were relieved when the war was over and you got to start working at a regular hospital was a big understatement.

You loved meeting new people and helping them more than anything. It was truly what you were born to do.

But when living in Small Heath where the Peaky Blinders stood on top of society and ran around causing fights and opening fire left and right at anyone who went against their wishes, you were often forced to take on the late shifts on top of your standard ones, causing you to be stuck at the hospital until the late hours of the night.

Tonight was one of those many nights. The clock had just hit one in the middle of the night when you stepped outside the hospital, having been busy the entire evening patching men up after a bar brawl that had gone out of hand.

The late-night air outside was cold in comparison to the warm air you had been stuck in the entire day, the contrast forcing you to pull your coat closer around your body as a shiver instantly made its way down your spine.

It had been raining like crazy the entire day, only making the air colder. But luckily the rain had died down slightly, only dripping down gently.

You wrapped your black scarf around your head in an attempt to save your hair, but only after a minute and a half of walking homewards, you realized it wouldn’t do anything of the sort and just gave up, letting the soft droplets of water have their way.

A couple passed you on the street, laughing, and you nodded your head with a smile in greeting when they did the same, picking up your pace when the rain started intensifying again.

Only from being outside for a few minutes you could feel your nose becoming slightly stuffed and you knew you had to hurry home if you didn’t want to catch a cold during the night.

The heels of your shoes clicked against the ground as you walked and the rainy wind pulled at your nurse attire and coat, nipping uncomfortably at the almost bare skin of your ankles.

Taking a left, you turned in on the street located right before your own street, and wasted no time in hurrying along the sidewalk.

Unlike the other streets you had walked down so far, this street was dark and deserted, differing from the others where street lights had lit up the wet pavement and people had been walking to and from the pubs located all around town.

It was always slightly uncomfortable to walk down streets without street lights. After seeing the things you had during your time as a nurse in the war, you had developed a very unpleasantly suspicious and scared personality.

It wasn’t unheard of that women in all ages got raped and taken in these parts of England, and every time you would find yourself in a position like this, you would fear that someone would jump out of the alleys and grab you.

So far, nothing of the sorts had ever happened to you personally, but that still didn’t stop you from being terrified of the possibility.

You kept your head down as you walked with hurried steps, clenching the small pocketknife in the pocket of your coat, and had almost reached the end of the street when you passed a lumped over figure.

It was a person, a man by the looks of it, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk.

In any other situation, you would have only quickened your pace when spotting him and you were about to do just that, but you stopped yourself short when the sound of a sniffle reached your ears.

Your heart was beating inside your chest at the thought of the risks as you came to a halt, but the fear quickly melted off as you realized the man was crying silently to himself.

Your caring nature took over, pushing the warning bells to the back of your head, and before you had been able to stop yourself, you had walked up to him and reached a hand out to his shoulder.

He didn’t react to the feeling of your hand on his shoulder, your touch probably being way to light and not being able to be felt through the many layers of clothes he was wearing.

He sniffled and took a swig from the almost empty bottle of whiskey he was holding in his hand.

You frowned at this, the strong smell of alcohol reaching your nostrils then.

“Hey.” You found yourself speaking, your hand squeezing down slightly harder on his shoulder and successfully getting his attention.

His entire body jerked in shock as he finally realized you were there. You couldn’t make out his face in the dark, but in the faint light coming from the moon you could make out his glossy, swollen eyes looking up at you.

He didn’t say anything, only watching silently as you removed your hand from his shoulder and sat down beside him.

You never took your careful eyes off of his face, frowning slightly. “Is something wrong?” You asked carefully once you were seated, folding your gloved hands on top of your knees in order to keep the skirt of your dress from riding up.

You mentally face-palmed yourself the second the words left your lips. Obviously, something was wrong. He wouldn’t be crying by himself if he was fine.

He didn’t seem to realize the stupidity of the question though, only scoffing and giving you a nasty side-eye. “What do you care?” He asked. “You don’t know me.”

You found yourself shocked for a moment, not having expected his rude tone in the state he was in. but then again, not many men would willingly admit their vulnerability, not even when their nose was red and swollen from crying.

They had to stay tough, no matter what. That much you had gathered from working as a nurse for so many years.

Clearing your throat quietly, you regained your composure, looking down at your hands.

“Does it matter?” You questioned, looking up at him again and raising your eyebrows. “You’re obviously struggling with something and so as a decent human being, I can’t just walk away without at least offering you my help.”

“I don’t need your help.” He was quick to answer, spitting the words out between clenched teeth and his narrowed eyes avoiding your gaze as you sought it out.

This time, you were more prepared for the reaction and wasted no time in reaching your hand out and grabbing the throat of the bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand as he raised it to his lips to take another swig.

“I think you’ve had enough of that stuff for the evening.” You tutted, succeeding in bringing it away from his lips, but not yet out of his hand.

He glared at you, his hand holding on to the glass for dear life. But when you glared back with just as much ferocity, your inner nurse really surfacing, he begrudgingly allowed you to rip the bottle out of his grip.

You hummed in contentment, looking to the side briefly to put the bottle down on the wet tiles before turning back to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, and his already narrowed eyes narrowed even further at that.

He stared at you for a moment, before turning his head back forward. “No.” He answered shortly.

Most people would have probably taken that as their cue to leave, but as a nurse, you knew there was often more to a person than what they let on to the surface.

“Are you sure?” You therefor kept inquiring, inspecting the side of his face. “I wouldn’t mind listening.”

He scoffed again, shaking his head. “You’re a stranger.” He stated simply, and you watched as he sourly started twisting the rings on his fingers.

You raised an eyebrow, humming. “And you’re drunk, sitting on the ground all by yourself in the middle of the night, crying.” You deadpanned. “If you ask me, it would seem you’re in desperate need of a pair of ears willing to listen and by the looks of it as you are where you are now, in no position to be picky of to whom those ears belong.”

Your voice was confident but your heart was beating wildly inside your chest. You were a nurse and it was just in your nature to care about people, and try to help them to your absolute best ability, and this situation was no different.

But as the circumstances were slightly different than they would be inside the safe walls of the hospital, you couldn’t help but feel slightly scared about the risk of getting into trouble by saying the wrong thing.

After all, you didn’t know this man and had no idea what he was capable of.

But luckily for you, he didn’t seem to be that easily vexed, as he only brought his hands up to his face after a moment of silence, dragging them over his eyes and answering into his palms.

“It’s my bloody kids.”

His voice was muffled, but you could hear him clearly, and you felt more at ease the instant he replied and showed you he was willing to converse.

“What about them?” You asked, turning slightly more towards him in an attempt to properly show him that you cared, even though he couldn’t see you at the moment with the way he was pressing his hands over his eyes.

“They’re running circles around me all day long.” He shook his head again. “Barefoot out in the mud with the dogs. They won’t listen, they won’t sleep. They won’t let me sleep.”

An exhausted breath left through his nose as he removed his hands, and even though it was hard to make out any details of his features in the dark, you could sense clearly that he was truly knackered.

His words brought a slight frown to your face. “How many kids do you have?” You asked, and without looking away from the ground in front of his feet, he answered.

“Four. But they may as well be ten. It sure feels like it.”

“I take it there’s no present mother then?” You asked carefully, and he shook his head.

“No.” He answered.

You looked at him uncertainly, hoping you weren’t pushing it as you asked. “Divorced?”

He swallowed, looking down at his hands. You followed his gaze, and only then did you realize the ring he was playing around with was a wedding band.

“Widowed.” He answered, confirming your suspicions before you were even able to think them, and you instantly felt your heart sink in your chest.

He was a single parent of four kids. His rude demeanor suddenly didn’t seem so uncalled for.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You said sadly, and before you could help yourself you had reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

You froze for a second, scared of his reaction, but rather than flinching away from your touch like you would have thought he actually seemed to lean into it, allowing you to continue.

“Has it been just you and the kids for long?”

He stared solemnly at the ground and raised a hand to his nose, sniffling. “About a year and a half now.”

“Where are they tonight?”

“At my aunt’s.” He answered. “She raised me and my siblings. Took care of us when our mum died and dad ran out on us. I’m supposed to be repaying the favor now that I’m old enough, but instead, I’m giving her more people to look after.”

You could hear the guilt and conflict behind his voice and you frowned.

“I’m sure she doesn’t mind.” You tried assuring him. “You’re family, and so are your kids. Family always takes care of each other.”

You offered him a comforting smile even though he wasn’t looking at you and squeezed his shoulder gently.

“I don’t have children of my own so I can’t even imagine how tough it must be.” You shook your head. “I’m a nurse at the hospital so many days I’ve got work up over the ears but if you ever need help with babysitting, I’d be happy to help.”

For the first time during your entire conversation, he broke his unwavering stare with the ground beneath his feet and turned to look at you.

His eyes were still slightly narrowed, almost in a way that seemed to be analyzing you. He just stared at you for a good moment, admittedly making you nervous. But soon enough, his tense shoulder relaxed under your touch, and he spoke quietly.

“Thank you.”

A hesitant smile made its way to your lips and you nodded. “Of course.”

He kept staring at you, analyzing your every feature and having you feeling self-conscious under his intense gaze.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” He asked. “You don’t even know me.”

Your eyebrows creased together slightly at the self-hatred that was so obviously hidden behind his words. You found yourself wondering what kind of people he had been surrounded by throughout his life that had made him feel undeserving of concern.

“I don’t have to.” You said simply. “You were troubled, I wanted to help.”

“Not many people would willingly step in to help a Shelby.”

And suddenly, all of your confusion was melted off and the missing piece of the puzzle fell into place.

“Shelby? You’re a Shelby?” You questioned, and your hand instantly retreated from his shoulder, your eyes widening. “A Peaky Blinder?”

You had been a nurse of war. You had seen death, stared him right in the face and walked out with your life intact. But you had seen the result of the Peaky Blinders, and not everyone had been as lucky as you.

Several of your patients had passed away from the severe injuries caused by the fists of a Shelby.

“Wish I wasn’t some days.” He scoffed, ignoring the way you had just flinched away from him like he had the clap, instead just inspecting you with narrowed eyes, analyzing your reaction. “Does that scare you?”

“What?” You spluttered out, your eyes growing wider. But you quickly cleared your throat, shaking your head and trying your hardest to calm your beating heart. “No. I don’t- I don’t mind. It’s just…”

“Just what?” He questioned, and you could just about make out a hint of anger behind his tone.

You gaped, struggling to find the right words. “You don’t… You don’t seem like the evil, ruthless killer people make you out to be.” You admitted finally, and it was true.

You had seen what they were capable of, and it terrified the absolute shit of you. But despite it, in this moment, you were shocked to see how soft he was. You never would have thought someone who was capable of beating another person up like they always did would be this… vulnerable.

“I can be.” He answered without a doubt, his eyes staring into yours. “When people get in my way.”

You felt your breath growing heavier, and a shiver running down your spine. But you couldn’t make out whether it was because of the cold, intimidation or undeniable attracting you found yourself feeling for the man sitting in front of you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but with the way you were breathing so shakily, you didn’t trust your voice enough to be able to make out any coherent words.

You sat quietly for a moment, just staring into each other’s eyes, neither of you being able to read the other’s expression.

It was like the longer you stared at each other, the more reality disappeared from around you and you slipped into a bubble of your own. But your moment was short-lived when a cold gust of wind and rain pulled over you, causing you to shiver violently.

John instantly took note of this. Now sobered up, he looked at you carefully, and sniffled, now almost looking shy.

“Take my coat.” He said, and didn’t wait for your answer before starting to unbutton said coat at his neck.

You hurried to shake your head, eyes widening slightly. “No, no. That’s alright. You don’t need to go through that trouble.”

He stopped unbuttoning the buttons, but still looked at you with a look that said “are you sure?”

But rather than addressing the subject any further, you only put on a small smile.

“I don’t usually invite gangsters into my home but my house is just around the corner.” You told him, motioning with your hand to said corner before continuing. “Do you want to step inside for a moment? It’s cold and it looks like the storm is getting stronger again. I could cook you up some late supper, and-”

He looked at you with inspecting eyes the entire time you talked, narrowed and his face wrapped up into an unreadable expression, forcing you to cut yourself short.

“If you don’t have anywhere else to be, I mean.” You said, unsure, to which he let out yet another scoff.

“I was just planning to drink my body weight in whiskey.” He answered honestly, the tone of his voice grumpy and his eyes moving away from yours to look at the ground again.

Before you could stop yourself, a light snicker left your lips. You shook your head. “Well, I think you’ve had enough of that so I’ll go ahead and take that as an accepting of my invitation.”

He looked back up at you and sniffled again, tensing his jaw as he looked at you. And then he nodded and stood up without saying anything else.

He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him pull you up to your feet and then watching as he wordlessly proceeded to shrug off his coat and put it around your shoulders despite the fact that you had just told him your house was just around the corner.

Upon reaching your home and going inside, you kept your promise and made the two of you some supper, and you spent another two hours sitting in front of the fire in the living room just talking.

You learned that his name was John and he told you all about his wife, children and life with the Peaky Blinders; probably more so than he should have told you.

But you never stopped him, noticing how badly he truly needed to get everything off of his chest, and as he later fell asleep on your couch, leaving you to watch the vulnerable look on his face as he slept, you quickly came to the realization that he might have been a gangster, a criminal and a killer, but he was everything but evil.

All he needed was some loving, and from that day forward, you gave him just what he needed.

#John Shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #peaky blinder #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcannon #peaky blinders x reader #polly gray #arthur shelby #tommy shelby #finn shelby #ada shelby #ada thorne

478 notes · View notes

writeiolite · 5 years ago

Text

hit or miss

who: iwaizumi x gn!reader

what: angst

plot: iwaizumi finds himself falling in love with y/n but when they confess to him, surely they meant to confess to oikawa

wc: 580

{ taglist: that one anon from like, an hour ago hhh and @for-ests c: }

Iwazumi knew he was in trouble in April. It was his third year of high school, also known as the most important year of his life. He knew this was the year to focus on his studies and decipher what he’d do with his life after graduation. He was supposed to decide where volleyball takes place in his life: center stage or as a side act? He knew that.

So why the hell did he let himself get distracted by a third party?

“The transfer student... They’re kinda scary.”

“Scary? You gotta be kidding me. I caught them scream about a bug... Outside.”

He thought that would be the end of it. Sure, the new transfer student was in his class, but he didn’t think that meant looking forward to seeing you.

Apparently, you wanted to join a club. Try as he might, Oikawa did not succeed in getting you to become the team manager for the boys’ volleyball club. You weren’t interested in volleyball, you said. You ended up joining the cooking club, much to Iwaizumi’s secret disappointment.

But maybe he was also a little happy.

“Man, this wouldn’t be happening if Y/N-chan ended up being out manager,” Oikawa complained one day in May. The current manager had confessed to him. Again. And Oikawa being as popular as ever, was in the middle of getting a confession from another girl when it happened. This ended in a catfight he did not want to be a part of at all.

“Of course this wouldn’t happen if L/N-san was our manager. They wouldn’t see anything appealing about you,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

Oikawa reacted just as he expected, but that wasn’t what was important. What mattered more to Iwaizumi was making sure he believed his own words too. With how easily everyone falls for Oikawa, he knew you eventually would too. Whether it was for one day or 100 days, he always expected it.

So he repeated those words to himself as he fell more and more in love with you.

Every single day.

Even as the seasons changed, his thoughts didn’t. The sun blazed in June and so did his feelings. The leaves withered in October and his love for you bloomed, especially when he saw you showing off the scarf you’d gotten during a summer trip to France. You had looked so blissful, it was hard for him to remember what his third year was supposed to be about.

He kept convincing himself until he was proven wrong. Like the fool he was and is, he stood there while you confessed your heart out to Oikawa after volleyball practice. The pair had been walking home together when you stopped them, a waterfall of a confession pouring from your lips.

How you felt that way since the sakura trees starting budding. How your feelings intensified with the summer blaze. How your warm feelings weren't discouraged even as the weather became cold. Poems upon poems came from your beautiful lips and Iwaizumi couldn’t listen.

He stopped listening to himself, so he didn’t see a reason to listen to you.

That day he walked away before hearing the full confession — before his heart could crack beyond repair and blow away with the leaves.

Looking back, though... He wonders if he did the right thing.

Looking forward, two years later, and seeing you across the Tokyo bakery with a half-eaten cupcake and textbooks across the table, Iwaizumi stops wondering and starts asking.

“Hi, Y/N.”

#iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu #HQ!!#iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi fic #haikyuu fic

188 notes · View notes

mymelodyheart · 5 years ago

Text

Forget Me Not Chapter 7 ~The Family Gathering~

"Are ye sure ye want to be the one to tell them, Sassenach? I had it already in mind what to tell ma and da, and I'm more or less prepared," Jamie said as he handed the last of the washed plates to Claire, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I'm definitely sure," Claire replied softly, flipping the dishcloth over her shoulder as she put away dishes in the cupboard. "Since I'm very much involved, I really ought to say something. Ma and da would probably be interested in what I have to say too. You can tell them about Annalise afterwards."

Annalise. Christ! How could I have forgotten about her?

Although Claire was a picture of calm, Jamie could feel the anxiety and nervousness rioting through her. It's a sixth sense he had developed where she was concerned. Jamie was very familiar with the nuances of her emotions, expressions and behaviour. And even after her six years of physical absence in his life, he could still read her like a book.

Earlier, during dinner, Jamie had announced his wish for a family meeting after their meal. Usually a loud affair, with everyone talking at the same time, the banter and chatter were toned down a notch as they noted the seriousness in Jamie's voice. Ellen, his mother, though looking a tad worried, tried to lighten the mood with a smile. "Of course, Jamie, dear. We will take our drinks in the living room after we're done eating...that's if the whole family are in agreement."

Everyone nodded in reply while Brian harumphed when his wife gave him a look, knowing he'd rather be watching sports on TV after his meal.

Although curiosity and concern were etched on everyone's faces, no one asked any questions, preferring to wait until they were all gathered in the family room. Seeing the attention had turned to Claire as they noticed her fidgeting on her seat and her face turning crimson, Jamie tried to downplay the situation by asking Geillis and Jenny's fiance, Ian, to join the family meeting. Fuck it! They might as well know.

After dinner, Claire had volunteered to clear up, and Jamie had joined her, offering to wash the dishes while she dried. He presumed she needed time to gather her thoughts and probably, to sort out the many emotions he'd seen displayed on her face. Christ, is she having doubts about us?

The night before, following the news of Annalise's cervical cancer and pregnancy, they both went home lost in their own thoughts, holding each other's hands after Jamie called for a cab. Claire's mere presence was a relief. How many times had they sat in silence whenever he was troubled as kids, and not a word would pass through their lips, her solace and support speaking in volumes. He still had doubts about Claire's true feelings and hoped she wasn't confusing her sibling affection for him as a love between a man and a woman that desired one another. Having kissed her and felt her respond to him after years of hoping she felt the same way, his heart felt like two stones grinding together, knowing he would be leaving soon. It's far too soon when we should be enjoying the beginnings of a committed relationship. But it had always been that way with her - others' needs before hers, and he felt like a reprobate and a scumbag for not giving Annalise's plight much thought. There will be enough time for that! Jamie had five days before he departs for France and he meant to spend every second with Claire before he goes.

Growing up, they had been demonstrative with their affection for one another and were thick as thieves, but Jamie couldn't help but notice of late, Claire's sudden shyness whenever he was near. She was full of contradictions as there was nothing shy about her kisses when she was in his arms. Probably too much, too soon, he thought, and it didn't help that he couldn't keep his hands off her. Claire's responsiveness to his kisses took every shred of decency he possessed not to take it any further, thinking he might frighten her away. Damn it! He wished sometimes they didn't have those shared childhood memories labelled as siblings because it made their current relationship seem wrong in her eyes.

Without much thought of anyone that may walk in on them, he suddenly took Claire's hand and led her to the walk-in pantry. She didn't say a word, her smile hinting she knew what he was up to. In the small confines of the tiny room, he brought her up against him, enfolding her in a hug that made the world seem right again. He wanted so badly to reassure her that there was nothing wrong with what they felt for one another.

"Sassenach, after we've talked to everyone...ye and I...we're going to have a very long talk too," he muttered, grazing his teeth at the side of her neck. He heard a delicate whimper, and his heart started to race. Oh fuck! How could he concentrate on the task at hand when Claire reacts like that every time he touched her. It blew his mind that she enjoyed his kisses as much as he did.

"Talk sure, but kissing is better," she whispered, her hands pulling down his neck to bring his mouth closer to hers.

He resisted, though it pained him to do so. He'd taken to heart what Claire had said about doing the right thing by Annalise, but he needed to sort whatever is between them before he goes. "Christ Claire, I'm trying my hardest to be grown-up here and do the right thing when all I want is to be with ye. When I leave for France, there should be nae doubts between us and I need to know if ye'll be waiting for me. I'm all in, Sassenach...all the way in, and I want ye more than anything in life and always have, but I want ye to be sure if this is what ye want...us..." Christ, being responsible is too fucking painful.

Claire seemed to search for the right words, as Jaime held his breath. "Yes, Jamie, I'm all in, if you are."

It was all he needed to hear. "Good lass..." Then his mouth crushed down on Claire's for an intense kiss, willing whatever trepidation she had to vanish.

..........

This is what I want, right? Jamie...yes definitely. What if Annalise's health improves and Jamie falls in love with her again? What if the baby is his? Oh God, why am I sending this beautiful man who wants me away? It's too late to change my mind now. Fickle is immature and childish. Yes, I'm all in. I can do this. Oh fuck, what if I can't?

One of her other biggest worries was, disappointing the only family she had left. It didn't help that memories of her being ostracised in school kept resurfacing for being unconventional. Now that she was back, what would the people that knew her, say. All she ever wanted was to fit in, and Jamie, for as long as she can remember, had always made sure she belonged. Now he wants her to belong to him...to be with him. Would that be acceptable in the eyes of the people that knew and love the Fraser family? Would ma and da be disappointed? This was in a hamlet where views and beliefs were still stuck in the past and very old fashion. In a lot of people's eyes, fostered or not, she was the Frasers' daughter, even though she had retained her real parents' name. For far too long, she suppressed the attraction she felt towards Jamie, not even daring to let it dwell in her thoughts, thinking it was unethical. Surely, not anymore, in this day and age.

Claire chewed her bottom lip, as she checked her phone, aware that Jamie's eyes were on her. She didn't want to raise her head in case someone saw the dread plastered on her face.

Everyone was seated in the family room, except for Brian. He had gone to retrieve a bottle of whisky from the cellar to replenish the drinks' cabinet as they all waited apprehensively...save for Geillis. She had a knowing smile on her face, having a fair idea of what is about to transpire. Claire avoided sitting next to Jamie and sat next to Willie instead. She knew the rest of the family would find it odd as she and Jamie had always sat together whenever possible when they were growing up, Ellen often mentioning that they were attached at the hip. Their usual seat was occupied by Ian and Jenny, a single armchair that they would have normally squeezed into.

"Right...so everyone has a glass?" Brian walked in with the whisky, and everyone perked up, eager for the family talk to get started.

Oh, God, here goes nothing. Claire had prepared her speech and had been going through it in her head for the last fifteen minutes. She watched as Brian poured whisky in each glass, and when it came to her, she whispered, "Make it a treble, da." She was beyond caring. She needed the drink badly.

Without saying anything, Brian cocked an eyebrow at Claire as he poured her desired measure. Once the whisky was served, he settled down next to Ellen. "Alright, what's the meeting all about then, Jamie?" Brian addressed, asserting his position as the head of the family.

Before Jamie, could reply and before her bravado could leave her, Claire jumped onto her feet, surprising Willie and almost spilling his drink. "I'll go first," she announced in a cracked voice, as she walked into the middle of the room, facing the semi-circle formation of the occupied seats. She swigged her whisky and took one big swallow before continuing. "I have something to say too."

Nobody said a word except for a few "Ohs.". They weren't expecting her to commence the assemblage, but they all looked at her with surprised curiosity. Claire was about to speak further when it occurred to her, the speech she had prepared mentally, had gone flying out the window. Oh fuck! She slammed her eyes shut, trying to find the words. Wing it, Beauchamp, for fuck sake, just wing it! She looked at her audiences' eager faces, urging her to say something and decided to concentrate on one face. Jenny's! Her expression was always deadpan and the least distracting.

Inhaling deeply, she let the words flow out. "I'm in love, " Claire blurted, regretting the outburst half a second later.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Did I just say that! Too late Beauchamp...keep winging it! It wasn't supposed to come out that way. Claire continued to grope in the dark for the speech she prepared, but the carefully memorised words remained elusive. She glanced quickly at Jamie. He was shaking his head with his eyes closed, a hand holding his forehead. He knew too that wasn't how it was supposed to come out. Too late!

There was a hushed silence, as she refocused her attention on Jenny, whose face was slowly breaking into a smile and her head bobbing for Claire to continue while squeezing Ian's hand.

"Oh, that's lovely dear, " Ellen gushed, and in her periphery, Claire saw her foster mother lay both hands on her chest awaiting what her next words would be.

"Who's the lad?" Brian asked, seemingly unaffected by the announcement.

"Is it Frank?" Willie chimed in, a disappointment already forming his face.

Geillis didn't say a word. There was an irritating smug look on her face, and Claire knew, her friend was entertained by the whole scenario.

"I'm in love with one of my siblings." Damn, damn, damn, it still came out wrong. Oh, fuck, never mind! Indeed never mind...there it was now, out in the open. Claire let out a breath she'd been holding and waited. She saw Jenny's eyes widened, and Ian straightened up from his slumped position, while everyone remained hushed. She realised her gaze was still unwaveringly focused on Jenny.

It was Jenny who spoke first, her words coming out slow and careful. "Claire lass, ye're in love with me?"

Ellen gasped, and Jaime groaned.

Claire felt mortified at the misunderstanding. "Oh no, not you, Jenny! I do love you but no...oh God, not that way. Jesus! This is all coming out wrong, isn't it?" Oh fuck!

"Claire, sweetheart which one of the lads?" Brian asked his voice steady and firm, seemingly the only one who understood the drift of what she was trying to say and understanding her discomfort.

Momentarily closing her eyes, she pointed a finger towards Jamie's direction, just like a child after being asked by a teacher who the culprit was. Christ why couldn't I have just said his name...I'm such an idiot! There was a long deafening silence, that seemed to go on forever. She hoped when she opened her eyes, they would all have disappeared. Unfortunately for her, when she did, they were all still there, their faces a picture of awe? That can't be, right? Not Willie's tone though.

"Jamie, what have ye done?" It was Willie, sounding displeased as if he had caught his younger brother doing something forbidden.

"What do you mean, what have I done?" Jamie retorted, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Claire spun around to look at Willie, his face was full of accusation. Then it dawned on her what her older foster brother must have been thinking. It was blowing all across his features like a red flag. "For fuck sake, Willie...lay off Jamie, will you! He's done nothing wrong. If you must know, I've never been with a man...I'm a virgin!" Oh sweet mother of God, too much information....why can't I fucking shut my mouth up.

"Ye are?" Jenny and Willie asked simultaneously, their eyes genuinely wide as saucers in disbelief.

In the background, she could hear Geillis trying to smother a giggle. Damn her! She started all this with her French kiss lessons!

Claire didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but she could feel hysteria rising up from the pit of her guts. If she hadn't been in the middle of this shamble, she would have found the situation amusing. Unfortunately, she had created this for herself, and she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

Before Claire could respond and say anything more, Jenny got up from her seat and squealed, hugging her tight. "Oh Claire, I've had my suspicions over the years, but I wasn't too sure. Ah ye wee dafty, is that why ye been acting funny these days?" And then she turned to Jamie. "Weel, lad...I suppose ye ken about this?"

It wasn't the reaction Claire was expecting. She looked at each of their faces staring at her. There was no look of disapproval nor reproach. Surprise yes and a hint of a smile from ma and da, while Willie's expression remained indiscernible as he looked on impassively.

Jamie nodded with a grin, winking at Claire. She could see the tension, had eased from his shoulders. "I have been in love with Claire for years, but I only told her yesterday," he confessed, the tips of his ears turning pink as everyone's attention turned to him.

"And I'm only hearing this now?" Willie asked his brother in a clipped voice, a frown marring his brow.

Claire glanced over at Willie to find him, what seemed like to her, scowling at Jamie. She thought this behaviour was odd as Willie was the most mild-mannered and least temperamental out of the three siblings.

"Ye were tae busy adulting, Willie...ye wanted nought to do with us children, in case ye've forgotten," Jamie pointed out, his lips twitching.

It was apparent to Claire that Jamie caught that funny tone on Willie's voice. Jamie had only told the truth as there was five years age gap between the brothers and growing up, Jamie was closer to Claire than he was with Willie and Jenny.

Her attention riveted to Ellen, as she stood up from her seat. Claire's heart skipping a beat, she waited with bated breath for what Ellen had to say. "Och, darling, my baby girl...come here." Claire blinked, as she was pulled into her arms, one hand stroking the back of her head. "Sweet, sweet, girl is in love with my boy."

Claire stifled a sob, as a wave of relief washed over her. Oh, how she had wanted their approval so much and now that she had it, she couldn't be any happier. She knew Jamie must feel the same way too. But the discussion was far from over as there was the case with Annalise to be told. She looked at Brian over Ellen's shoulder, who simply nodded and raised his tumbler of whisky as if to say, he was happy for them too.

"Oh, God, ma...I thought you'd be mad."

"Mad?" Ellen appeared surprised. "Why should I be mad, darling? Love is something that comes to us all when we least expect it." Then Ellen leaned closer to her ears. "I'm just glad it was with ye Jamie has fallen in love with."

She could hardly believe what Ellen was saying, as she stood there stupidly trying to take in all their reactions.

Claire was brought back from her thoughts when Brian brought their attention to him with a knuckle rap on the coffee table. "So, are we all done and sorted? Can I go now and watch the footie?" Everyone laughed. Brian didn't seem too bothered about Jamie and Claire's news, but he looked happy enough to ease Claire's worries.

"Er...da, we're not done yet. There's something else..." Jamie added quickly before everyone dispersed from the room.

"Aye, weel, get on with it, lad. I don't have all evening, ye ken."

The family remained seated as Jamie took Claire's place on the floor, explaining the situation with his ex-girlfriend. Although they felt sorry for Annalise's plight and didn't doubt Jamie's words when he said he doesn't think the baby she was carrying was his, the sad story was overshadowed by Claire's earlier confession. None of them had ever met Annalise; hence the lack of emotional connection. It was only Ellen who voiced her approval of what Jamie planned to do...the right thing. Just in case...just in case the child Annalise is carrying is Jamie's and would be left orphaned if Annalise did die.

Claire looked around to ask Willie what he thought, but instead, she found an empty seat that he occupied earlier. She felt a tinge of sadness in her heart, as she wanted him badly to approve of her relationship with Jamie.

...........

Later alone in her room, Claire let out a massive sigh of relief, but it was short-lived as her thoughts wandered back to reality. Jamie will be leaving for France in five days, to see another woman. His ex-girlfriend, no less. Oh God, for once, she wanted to be selfish, and she didn't want him to go. She looked at her reflection on the dressing table's mirror. Jesus, no wonder everyone... well almost everyone, can read her like an open book. Her expression was the epitome of conflicted. No, stop it, Beauchamp, get a grip! He will be back before you know it. She knew she will be busy enough once the hotel re-opens and hours will be rigorous to keep her mind preoccupied.

The door opened slowly, and Jamie let himself in. Claire had been expecting him after he gave her a nod earlier before she ran up the stairs. Their knack for understanding each other's unspoken communication had become finely honed over the years.

Standing before her, Jamie's sheer size made her room suddenly seemed so small. He had always been a tall lad for his age while growing up, but over time, he had filled out too nicely. Having taken off his sweatshirt earlier, his grey top hugged tightly across the expanse of his muscular chest and taut washboard abs. Awareness crept over her, lifting goosebumps down the length of her arms, making her thighs feel like gelatin. Her breath hitched when he lifted her up from her dressing table seat and took her place, settling her on his lap with her legs, straddling his thighs. Her wrists locked automatically behind his neck.

He pressed his forehead against hers, a beautiful smile forming his lips. "How are ye, Sassenach? It wasna too bad earlier, was it?" he murmured, adjusting his hold to bring her closer against his chest.

She laughed if somewhat a wee bit shakily, his warm breath on her face doing wonders to her insides. "Not too bad? I thought you were dying a little out there, every time I opened my mouth to speak."

"Mmm, speaking of mouth, I thought the evening would never end. All I could think of is kissing you," came Jamie's low voice from her thick curls hanging around his shoulders. Claire could feel a finger tugging at a lone tendril. "This house has far too many people. How about we go to my house for a bit of privacy?"

Claire knew precisely what Jamie meant. In Frasers' household, nobody ever knocks on the door...they simply walked in. Although their secret wasn't secret anymore, she didn't want anyone walking on them while kissing. "Privacy to do what?" she teased, smiling against his lips as he brushed his mouth tantalisingly across hers.

"We can stay the night there. I have a mattress I use when working late in the house. We can carry it next to the fireplace, and we'll bring extra blankets and duvets." Mistaking her shudder for apprehension, he pulled away and looked directly into her eyes. "We're just going to cuddle, Sassenach and maybe talk a little. I want to spend a lot of time with ye before I go to France if that's alright?" His hands caressed her back and arms, his eyes, dark and intense, betraying how aware he was of her as she was of him.

"Of course Jamie, I would like that." She hardly heard her own voice when she replied as she felt a stirring coming to life inside of her. Yearning for something she couldn't verbalise, there was an unexpected awareness of emptiness in places she never knew, that she understood with sudden clarity, only Jamie could fill. "I'll just grab a few things. But before we go, I need to have a word with Willie," she croaked, her mouth suddenly feeling parched.

"Aye, do that, and I'll grab a few blankets and other things." He stood up, lifting Claire away from him, the gravelly tone of his voice revealing his effort of exercising control. "Don't take too long!"

..........

Claire looked everywhere for Willie and finally found him sat outside on the doorstep, cradling an empty glass.

"Hey! There you are"

Willie looked up at her, scooting to the side so she can sit down. "Hey to ye too," he replied with a weak smile, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Want a top-up?" Claire showed a bottle of whisky she brought with her and took out her own glass from her jacket pocket. "It's cold out here, and I thought this should warm you up."

"Aye, thank ye." He watched as she poured the whisky. "Ye've developed quite a taste for excellent single malt over the years haven't ye?"

She laughed, raising the glass to him. "Does that mean, I'm officially a Scot?"

"Not quite. Ye still have that bloody posh English accent. I dinna ken how ye managed to hang on to it after all these years living here." When Claire didn't reply, he purposely bumped his shoulder against hers. "But ye ken, it doesnae matter if ye still carry the name Beauchamp...to me ye'll always be a Fraser."

Claire smiled, grateful that the frown on his face was gone. "Willie... I want to know if...if you disapprove of Jamie and me." She paused, taking a sip of her amber liquid. "You didn't look too happy in there earlier. And it's important to me that you don't hate me for it."

He laughed without humour as he took a sip of his own drink. "Ach, don't mind me, Claire. You know fine that I don't hate ye. I was probably just shocked. I dinna expect..." Willie swallowed hard. "I dinna expect ye and Jamie. I always thought ye were just a couple of kids beings kids. Don't worry about it."

"That's good. I'm glad..." Claire whispered. "Actually, I expected the shock reaction more from Jenny and ma and da...but, not from you."

Willie cocked an eyebrow, looking at her this time. "Aye? Really? Why is that?"

"I don't know. I guess maybe it's because you rarely told me off or disapproved any of my life decisions. And I've done a lot of crazy things in my travels that you knew about and ye were the only one that I managed not to shock. Remember when I did that bungee jump? Christ, I received a lot rollicking from everyone, especially ma and Jamie...but you...you thought it was bloody brave of me."

Willie laughed out loud, the sound of his laughter more sincere this time. "Aye, that was brave of ye. I've always admired yer passion for adventure. I like the fact that ye dae what ye love to dae..." He shook his head, smiling. "Are ye happy, Claire?"

"Yes...very happy but sad at the same time that Jamie will be leaving soon." Then remembering it was her idea to send Jamie to Annalise, she added with a slightly defensive tone, "But I know he'll be doing the right thing, right? What do you think?"

He sighed and opened his arms to give her a hug. Claire scooted nearer and laid her head on his shoulder, his arms going around her back. "I cannae answer that Claire, but If I was Jamie, I wouldn't even think of leaving ye," Willie whispered, his eyes faraway looking into the dark of the night.

"Sassenach, are ye ready?" Jamie asked softly as he stood in the doorway, looking down at them.

Willie and Claire hadn't heard Jamie approached nor the door opened. "Just give me a minute Jamie...I shan't be long," Claire replied, inclining her head towards him. Then she turned to Willie. "I'll see you tomorrow? Jamie is taking me to his house."

Willie nodded with a smile. "Aye, see ye tomorrow. And leave the whisky behind, please. I think I'll sit here for a while."

Claire handed the bottle to him. "Don't drink the whole bottle, alright? Leave some for tomorrow. And here..." Claire took the scarf from her neck and gave it to him. "Sit on this or else the steps will freeze your arse off."

Willie laughed, taking the bottle and her scarf off her hand. "Thanks...now go...Jamie is waiting."

She gave Willie a quick peck on the cheek before clambering up the stairs, her legs twinging with pins and needles. Glancing back at Willie, she noticed he had wrapped her scarf around his shoulders instead of laying it on the steps to sit on. She sighed as she hoped and prayed, in her heart of hearts, that sombre smile he had just given her wasn't any indication that he was displeased with his brother.

#melodyheart #forgetmenot #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

1 note · View note

majokkomaimun · 5 years ago

Text

no you know what, full vent rant here, please look away because idfk what to tag this

today has been one of my worst days ever and these are but some of the things constantly weighing on my mind i am currently indefinitely put on hold from my transition for having mental issues, i cannot currently start self-medicating even though there's almost no physical risk to it (fearmongering isn't all that bad at making DIY HRT look absolutely horrifying) because my mom has literally stated that if i start to do HRT myself she will personally kick me to the curb, adding the fact that my mother is actively withholding me from doing something that would help me both mentally and physically with minimal risk with to the threat of homelessness (and probably all my stuff because i doubt they'd let me keep that shit) that they're already constantly using on me merely because i am FUCKING DEPRESSED AND TRYING TO DEAL WITH THAT and forcing me to go out of my way to go do things i don't fucking need like a fucking driving license because bitch when the FUCK will i use that besides this they are also constantly using said threat directly or indirectly because it's hanging over my head even if they may have been not serious about it, whenever they ask me anything i constantly have to ask myself "is this thing they're asking me to do is not disturbing to my mental and emotional health and stability enough that i can make myself go through it to keep them appeased and from them hurting me and or throwing me on the streets" if it weren't for that goddamned threat i wouldn't even be eating dinner with them and i'll be damned if i ever go with them on a trip ever again because being thrown on the streets here would be bad but being constantly close to them forcefully is an absolute literal nightmare of mine and havign that happen in fucking france would be fucking horrifying i feel like i am stuck in a house that is preparing me to rot in the ground and nothing more like, i want to confront my mom about her hypocrisy about not allowing me to DIY HRT or even T-blockers and then turn around and say she'll be here to do whatever she can to help me get better mentally but i just don't have the energy or the fucking safety net to do so like i don't know how my family would react to it but going by the fact i've not been kicked out yet i assume my parents assume they'd dissapprove and like, my brother also gets his own shit but one of use gets like severely more shit for existing than my brother and it's definitely me, likely because i'm the oldest andi should've already have everything figured out, because i'm already 21 and "we were that age when we moved out so why aren't you doing it" completely ignoring the fact that there are massive good reasons i can't which isn't even including the goddamn trauma and anxiety and depression which you had A MASSIVE HAND IN CREATING being near my family drives me up the wall and has me scared shitless because i know that one wrong move might end up with me on the fucking streets no matter the outside situation, i regularly tell them i yearn for death and they just play it off as a fucking joke, in fact they play off most things i said as "silly" or "stupid" or as "a joke" no matter how i bring it because apparently being deadpan depressed and speaking in a dull and dead voice devoid of emotion is hilarious to my parents the only emotions i know how to fake well are cheer and happiness and joking jests and etc, because i've been needing to do that my entire fucking live and i've just grown so used to doing it around them to appease them i just slip into it sometimes and they take taht as a sign things aren't actually all that bad and i'm just fucking overplaying my literal desire to fucking die and i fucking hate this situation i am in with every fibre of my being

i am but a bucket with holes near the bottom and the water i can contain and give you is small, please, just let me be for fucking once. that or just melt me so my matter can be used for something better

my parents are capable of doing upon me everything they have ever made me fear because if they didn't make me fear these things they couldn't have controlled me

#tw abuse #abuse tw #mentions of abuse #PARENTS #not the good kind #vent #rant #gods honestly fuck my parents right into a six foot hole #no there's no proper spacing i'm sorry #i was just ranting venting this is the result #deal with it #please don't look at this #i shout in this

1 note · View note

iamallybee · 6 years ago

Text

I was looking through the Electric Mayhem tag on my blog and came across an old post about Floyd vaguely hinting he used to be in the army.

Basically, in the John Devour Rocky Moutain Holiday special, Floyd says, "Yeah, I haven't smelled anything like that since I was stationed in Marseille!"

This suggests he served in France during the Cold War but, in real life, most American soilders stationed there at the time just sat around doing acid. It's frigging hilarious when you put the two and two together.

But now, I realise that Floyd is technically a veteran and would likely have Military ID.

So, I headcanon that Floyd hated his time in the army and hates being recognised as a former solider. But he uses his ID regardless as he can get discounts and such. If he's unlucky, people (always Americans) thank him for his service. But Floyd always replies in the most deadpan voice;

"Your welcome, I tripped on acid for our country."

He then walks away before anyone reacts properly.

#muppets #the muppets #floyd pepper #muppet headcanons #headcanons #dr. teeth and the electric mayhem #the electric mayhem

45 notes · View notes

a-collection-of-villainous-aus · 6 years ago

Text

Coffee Au pt 2

PART 3 OF THREE

It was the end of the day, Acylius and Demencia wanted to do nothing more than just sink into one of the comfy seats and doze off but work still had to be done.

As Flug was cleaning away mugs and other items he could still taste Black Hat on his tongue, lingering in its flavor the apple of Eden, he wanted to bite again, savor him anew but the demon was not exactly famous for being sweet so no doubt the next would be bitter…right?

“Boy what a day, am I right or am I right tree man!”

Acylius was silent as he looked over at Black Hat’s empty seat, he’d seen him leave, some work emergency no doubt, money had been left on the table but he’d found himself disappointed that the demon wasn’t still there demanding to be served after hours, crazy as the day had been it had actually been surprisingly fun to have him around.

“It is strange... “

“What that he digs you and not me? “

Demencia teased gently nudging him.

“Please be serious for one moment, you will not believe this, but I do feel as if I know him from some other life...there were things today that felt... so familiar.”

Exasperation filling his voice as he walked off to pick up a latte glass that was half full, grumbling they should not order the large if they were not going to drink it all.

“Oh, like what?”

“Well, when we kissed after you suggested he could help...”

Touching his lips as he looked over at the kitchen, whispering

“It did not feel like the first time.”

“Pffft seems I was right he wanted to lip lock and suck your soul right out of your-”

“Demencia, that is enough!” Flug dropped the glass he was holding, it shattered across the floor spilling its cold contents, liquid started seeping through the floorboards, oh dear she realised perhaps she’d pushed a little too far as his eyes lit up and she was dragged forward Darth Vader style only without the throttling . His hand engulfed in cerulean flame, claws extended forward and with a flick she was off her feet hovering, snarling “I am trying to run a coffee shop, not a brothel while we are friends I do not need you interfering with my love life.”

In all her years she’d known Acylius, the lizard girl had never seen such a fire as this burning within him, damn Black Hat must have more of an effect than he was willing to admit, rolling her eyes she responded “You think you could put me down, also you old fart what love life, you’re like fifty and have boned like what …once and that was with someone who was for hire to play as Black Hat, I mean I’ve offered cause who doesn’t wanna climb that tree and sit on your branch, but you were as flustered as a sinner in church.”

(Remember demon so not like human 50 XD )

“Woman…argh!” Acylius tried to keep a straight face, but honestly he could never stay mad at her, a chuckle left him as the demon shook his head and set her down

“You are hopeless.” “Yeah, yeah I know I’m a lost cause, but why is it so hard for you to believe he likes you?” She returned while straightening out her uniform. “Please, I do not think he would find a suitable partner in a barista who tortures people for information on the black market… holy…” Acylius went quiet and blinked looking at Demencia “Is that why the Black market is called that! My alternative profile is in that world...I need a drink ...am I working for him and not…know what no this is too much too soon, I am going downstairs, I am going to drink and torture that man until he is a bloody pile.” Demencia gave him a deadpanned expression in response “One: it is not for you to decide who he wants to bone and two: you seriously only just figured that out, you’re smart but sometimes really dumb.”

Acylius sighed and just walked off hearing her call out after him saying “And what about this!” It was easy to imagine her gesturing towards the spilt coffee “You clean it up, ASSBUTT!” Demencia huffed; she should never have let him watch Supernatural, mocking his sentence in a whiny voice before getting to work and only smiling as she swore she could hear the muffled voice of him saying “I heard that!” Pffft of course he had, demon senses and all, it was no surprise and yes it probably wasn’t wise to try and interfere with her friends love life, especially when it left her to clean up duty instead of getting to play just how long can we make our victim scream.

Picking up the pieces of broken glass she paused looking out the window, wondering up on that high hill where Hat Manor sat, what the old demon was doing now, heh maybe he was even day dreaming of Acylius, that’d be pretty adorable.

Hat manor stood silhouetted, painted on a sea of blue and purple, diamonds scattered over its surface, there was no moon tonight, though this is not what we are here to do though, while the night sky held its beauty the home held its secrets deep under the foundations. Down winding stair cases of stone, walls lined with torches that came alight as Black Hat passed them with bright emerald flames leading to a room, large extravagant, doors locked with spells reacting to his presence, opening out to show the pristine display with a red carpet. Glass cases that remained in a constant polished state appeared liquid with candle light reflecting off their surfaces, to many people these items would be considered odd in the sense they to anyone else held absolutely no value…but to Black Hat they were treasures and when each one was touched he could remember a small moment attached to each and every one of these things… Recalling how his Acylius had taught him to use a barbers blade for shaving, he himself did not grow stubble or the such unless he wanted to and he had suspected the same of his Doctor, who liked to do human things as simple as that.

It was not that he’d allowed Black Hat to shave his face that had made the memory but that he’d trusted him so close to his throat with a blade, it may not have killed him even if he’d wanted it to slit it.

Though that was the thing with anyone else he would have hacked them to pieces and laughed, in that moment he’d slowly brushed the razors edge along his flesh, intently focused on the task at hand, leaving him mesmerized at just how intimate a simple act could be and how it felt to be trusted by him.

The demon had not been down here in some time, that did not mean what was here had lost any meaning, no on the contrary at times being here caused so much pain he could hardly bare it.

Walking slowly through this world of past wonders, there were mannequins in neat rows wearing suits, everyday clothing to swim wear and pyjamas, some clothing items pressed into picture frames, stopping in front of one case in particular a small quirked at the corner of his lips, on a cushion sat an old tattered Bear, blue after some chemical accident when Acylius had been a child or so the doctor had told him. This was kept for more than one reason, one Acylius had loved it dearly and two even as a grown demon he’d found him sometimes napping with the damn thing tucked under his arm, apparently you could never be too old to enjoy a favored gift from the past, claws making soft tapping sounds on the glass.

“What an odd name for a child’s toy…Five o Five…then again there is that silly old bear named Winnie the Pooh…”

He said to himself in passing thought.

Just being here already felt as if a hand had reached in around the void that passed for his heart and was slowly crushing it, glancing over at the beautiful cello he and Flug had played together, the intimacy of creating music on the same instrument so passionately had near rivaled their passion within the sheets…before you wonder yes Black Hat even had their four poster royal Georgian bed perfectly made as the doctor would have wanted it.

Lab equipment that museums would beg to have, first edition books that could very well be the only remaining copies of the texts within some of them…yes he’d saved practically everything, did it perhaps make him obsessed…incapable of letting go, you might think so and yes it probably was the case.

He himself could not forget the way the barista had kissed him, it was a perfect match to the way his Acylius performed such affectionate acts, the same passion a memory so real and tactile rising to the surface and layering perfectly to match the movements of want. Thinking back on this afternoon as he’d sat there sipping his hot chocolate, listening at times to the inane conversation of others and hearing the name of the Café he’d failed to read the name of upon entry in favor of warmth than the cold weather. He stared at one dark oak closet a mannequin stood in there locked away, blood stained clothes, the salt of tears within the collar, even a beast could weep when its heart was broken, shoulders tensing just at the minor scent of iron and acid he adverted his gaze. Could that Barista really be Acylius Flug reborn, the man who’d lay dying in his arms , promising him he’d find him amongst the stars…rambling about artists who place their soul upon the canvas, full of hope and pain, madness full of splendid wonder and final words being of love until there were none. Kisses upon lips that no longer held their warmth as a mournful cry left him whimpering like a child lost in the wilderness of the vast world.

Acylius’s body no more than a limp doll that had lost its light and as with all demonic forms he turned to smoke and ash washed away with a tender breeze littered with embers while all he could do was watch.

Even though he had barely understood what his lovers last message had been, for years he’d sought out painters who favoured the night skies, though none matched the pure emotion of which Flug had spoken until one Starry Night in France just outside the Ravoux Inn he came across such an artist. A rough looking creature really with a missing ear, in fact he’d nearly passed him until this man had grabbed his arm and Black Hat had at first thought him mad until he spoke of a spirit tall and pale, scars and ears not human and eyes so blue no matter the blend of colours he’d tried to use the ever changing hue had been impossible to match.

Up the stairs of that humble place the artist called home he entered, moonlight pouring through an open window, curtains swaying ever so delicately behind the easel sat a canvas not long since painted on, just as promised in thick oil paints of swirling night time wonders, blacks, blues bright shining yellows in a myriad of hues there stood Acylius eyes closed within the heavens.

“I have dreamt about this man yet I do not know what sins I have committed to bring devils and spirits at my door!” Black Hat given him a look before replying “Even Angels it would seem have mercy on a fallen devil.” He’d without second thought left a fortune upon the old bed in the artists room and taken what was rightfully his, news of his death had been reported not but a few days afterwards which even in the demons opinion was a great tragedy.

Now on the wall here it hung still years later, framed in gold with a bench for him to rest upon, other pieces at either side by Flugs hand were portraits and sketches of Black Hat…but this one in the center had been a gift from the beyond , a promise that he was coming back.

That barista had to be him, had to be his Flug; the café was named after a painting no one but he and the painter knew about. Could it be, he’d finally truly found him amongst the stars.

(this is a poor version of the Artists work I was inspired by, especially if you figure out who I was talking about...but as my own work I like it XD)

#coffee au #paperhat #villainous au #villainous #acylius flug #Black hat

60 notes · View notes

ofwizardsandmen · 6 years ago

Photo

CHRISTMAS SERIES

Keyword being ‘supposed’

This is definitely not how Enzo Saint-Pierre was supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

Characters: Enzo Saint-Pierre, Minah Delacroix, Tara Lee, Mark Yang. Mentions of other minor characters.

Word count: 3,6k

“I can’t believe them” Enzo Saint-Pierre huffed as he flopped on the pink velvet sofa, arms falling limp at his sides and his phone slipping from his hand before falling over a cushion.

Across the room, Enzo’s business partner and close friend, Minah Delacroix, stopped wrapping her brother’s Christmas gift for a short moment and took notice of his sour expression and the way his eyes glared at the device with resentment.

It was the day before Christmas and the friends had been chatting about pointless topics for nearly two hours now. Although the company’s premises had been closed for a few days now, Enzo had forgotten some important documents in his security box and just happened to come across his business partner hiding in her office wrapping gifts and writing cards. For the past weeks, It had been difficult to even see Minah because apparently she was juggling all her duties as a Delacroix, attending parties, planning her own Christmas festivities and buying gifts for her endless list of family members, friends, and business network. Of course, Sienna, her ever-efficient assistant, had been really helpful —Enzo had already received a beautiful set of gold cufflinks with his family crest coat of arms carved by goblins, earlier that day, for example—, but Minah still had some last-minute tasks to fulfill, which explained why they had been chitchatting as she went on with the ever boring task of dictating Christmas messages to her Quick Quotes Quill and wrapping Christmas gifts in an old fashioned way.

Only a few minutes ago laughter filled the room. The friends had been talking about their holiday plans until a call interrupted Enzo from pocking fun at Minah’s choice of words to describe what she would be wearing that night for her one on one Christmas celebrations.

“What happened?” MInah asked. She knew Enzo was never the type to react negatively, choosing to remain blissfully —and even annoyingly— positive even at critical times (a behavior that had almost caused her to attempt murder several times the past year), so his expression made her raise one of her perfect brows. Minah carefully placed Suho’s state of the art quidditch glasses on the table (one of her husband’s most recent tech inventions) and leaned back on the chair.

“Nothing” Enzo deadpanned, but the scowl on his forehead told otherwise.

“Oh, come on, Enzo. The only time I saw you frown like this was when we were invited to the Olivier’s fashion show” Minah walked across the office and took the empty spot beside her friend, sitting cross-legged. “And even then you looked slightly entertained”

“Would you blame me? Maude poured champagne on her hideous white dress. It was hilarious” Enzo smirked playfully at the memory. It never failed to amuse him.

“Then, what’s wrong? Minah insisted, her voice too sweet for Enzo not to detect concern filtering through her tone.

“Just my ever enchanting family,” The man said with a sigh “Cancelling dinner plans at the very last minute because their businesses are more important… businesses being a euphemism for affairs.”

It had never been a secret for Minah that Enzo’s parents’ only kept their marriage to protect their individual interests. Minah and Enzo had bumped with his dad lounging on yachts in the Mediterranean, with entourages of women younger than herself, during their business trips to the south of France and Italy. His mother, on the other hand, had been having an affair with a magizoology researcher for some years now and she never missed the opportunity to run away with him to some exotic place. Of course, Enzo never told her that, Minah had found out everything about it through her uncle, Jerome, who granted was not one to spread gossip but had accidentally spilled the beans when they crossed paths with Madame Huang at a gala from the International Dragon Foundation.

“What?” Minah gaped at that. Enzo had been talking about his plans with his parents for nearly a month and he seemed quite excited about it given the fact he didn’t get to spend time with them very often. It had made Minah question how lonely and in need of love Enzo seemed to be, but she hadn’t said anything about it. Instead, she had witnessed him planing every detail for their Christmas dinner with minute attention. He had bought handmade Italian glasses and hired the executive chef of the trendiest restaurant in London for the occasion. Hell, he had even got her aunt Adelaine to design him a suit although she was as busy as a bee. “I’m so sorry about it. I know you were looking forward to spending time with your parents”

“Nah. It’s ok. It was too good to be true” He attempted to laugh it off, but Minah knew that for some odd reason, Enzo still held some type of respect and affection for his parents. She was still unable to understand his fixation on spending time with them, but she figured out that the situation was far from being “ok”.

“No, it is not. They should’ve canceled before so you could make some arrangements and plan something else” She said scowling and slightly raising her voice.

“I will be fine, Minah. I am going to crash any of the parties I was invited to or drop by to visit some friends” He said, putting emphasis on the last word and winking at Minah afterward.

“No, that doesn’t sound right” Minah protested “Why don’t you come and stay with me and Sungjae. We didn’t really plan anything special” Only once she had already made the offer, Minah realized the mistake she had committed by inviting someone to spend Christmas Eve with her and her husband, without even asking Sungjae first.

“I had no idea you were into threesomes, Min” Enzo joked, eyes flickering in pretended surprise.

Minah slapped his arm playfully. “Don’t be ridiculous! Haven’t you told me he third party is always supposed to be a stranger?”

They both laughed at that, but Enzo became serious once again, moving on the sofa to look at Minah in the eyes.

“I really appreciate your offer, but I am pretty sure Sungjae won’t be exactly thrilled to have me there,” He said seriously.

“Oh no, Sungjae is in his Christmas mood, I’m sure he really wouldn’t mind” That last part was a blatant lie, Minah could only imagine Sungjae’s reaction and it was far from what she had described, but Enzo didn’t need to know that.

“Ha. As if” Enzo rolled eyes. “Minah, you’re newlyweds. I seriously appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to feel any better if I have to spend Christmas Eve at your place, knowing that you would very much rather be fucking with your husband than hosting unwanted guests.”

“Wow, what a charmer” Minah replied with a trace of sarcasm. She couldn’t deny that Enzo was completely right, but she was still convinced that she needed to insist. “But Enzo… Christmas has always been about unannounced guests. From day one, that is the whole purpose of the holiday. I mean, take the Wise Men, they just called in unannounced.”

“They brought gold, Minah, of course, Mary and Joseph didn’t mind” Enzo switched his position on the sofa scoffing.

“But still-“ Minah started, but her speech was interrupted before she could say another word.

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to give up Christmas sex only because of me” Enzo stated with a grin, causing Minah to huff “No, but seriously. I’m going to be perfectly fine, Min. I always have a plan B.” The male moved to pat Minah’s hand brotherly “Thanks for caring so much though.”

“Just wanted to give you a Christmas gift” Minah said, a pout forming slightly.

“You already got me these” Enzo said pointing at his wrists, showing off the cufflinks Sienna had delivered to his apartment that morning “Plus, you know I’m not expecting any Christmas miracle or present, Minnie. I’ve been a bad boy all year long” Enzo shrugged, winking for an added effect. “We all know I’d never make it to Santa’s nice list.

________

When Enzo showed up at Tara’s porch, she could barely hide the disappointed look on her face. Although she knew very well that Mark couldn’t make it home for Christmas this year, for some stupid reason she had been expecting it to be him. But then again, why would Mark even ring the bell of their own home? Tara thought to herself that the unreasonable hope she had been harboring inside was clouding her judgment and she felt like facepalming herself.

“You could at least pretend to be happy to see me” Cladded in the most Christmas cliched outfit Tara had ever seen him wear, Enzo smiled widely at her. He didn’t seem the least bit offended by Tara’s reaction, which made her feel even worse and instinctively step to the side for him to walk in.

“I’m sorry, dear.” Tara tiptoed to kiss Enzo’s cheek and give him a quick hug “You just caught me off guard. I thought you were supposed to be home with your parents.”

“Keyword being ‘supposed’” Enzo said, handing Tara what seemed to be a present, wrapped in a silly paper with red-nosed female reindeers wearing hot-pink bows. “As per usual they canceled on me, so I supposed my best friend could use some company” He made a pause to take a brief look around “…Not to mention I could bestow some much needed Christmas spirit in this house.” He added once he realized the house was almost empty, which of course was to be expected given the fact Tara had just moved in there a few weeks ago. Yet, there was something truly depressing about it all. There was no tree, no decorations. Not the least sign of the joyful season.

“Oh, yeah. I wasn’t planning anything special, I was expecting tonight to be just me and the Ghost of Christmas Past” Tara joked, noticing the pitiful look on Enzo’s face.

“I thought Mark would be here, that’s why I dressed down” he attempted to mask the question with a ridiculous joke, but Tara’s expression fell anyhow.

“He’s just busy. Apparently, a group is not enough work, so his company planned this whole “supergroup” project and if I haven’t lost track of the date, he must be stuck somewhere between Dallas and Miami right now” Tara forced a smile “But it’s ok.” She took a deep breath that suggested she wasn’t particularly ok. She then went on “I know how important his career is and how hard he’s worked for it, so I’m fine”

“I can’t believe you didn’t think of telling me about it, T. I seriously thought Mark was coming home tonight. If I had known-“

“If you had known, you would’ve tried o drag me to some crazy orgy in Las Vegas or Rome and I don’t know about you, but that’s not exactly what my Christmas spirit dictates me to do,” Tara said with an insincere laugh that made her best friend frown. “Ok, no, it’s just that you seemed so excited to spend time with your parents, I didn’t want to ruin it with my whining.”

“I’m almost offended you think that way, T.” Enzo clicked his tongue reprovingly before sneaking an arm around Tara’s shoulders. “You should’ve told me and we could’ve figured out an escapade to wherever Mark is and surprise him.” Enzo’s eyes lit up as though an idea had suddenly crossed his mind. “In fact, I think we’re still on time for that. Let’s go see Mark, we can Apparate and scare him off. Or we could scare the CEO of his company-“

“We are not going to Apparate in another continent just for Mark to spend his night performing for thousand of crazy women who fantasize about him-“ Tara stopped mid-sentence when she realized the bitterness in her words. “I-“ she let out a sigh, letting realization kick in.

“Wow” Enzo let out a deep breath before going on. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Neither did I” Tara admitted, looking down at her shoes as though she were looking at them for the very first time. “I just-“

“You’re just a human, T. You would like to have Mark all for yourself sometimes, wouldn’t you?” Enzo placed both of his hands on each side of Tara’s arms, making her look up. She hesitated for a second, but then she nodded “And it’s understandable.”

“I would never change the fact Mark is who he is, but sometimes…” Tara trailed off.

“Sometimes you should just let him know the way you feel” Enzo replied simply.

________

Four hours later and after bending several wizarding laws and abusing of their personal connections at the Ministry of Magic, Enzo and Tara dodge a group of overly excited teenagers in Perry Street. As per usual, the street is busy and decorated in a close simulation of a cheerful winter wonderland. There are several muggle tourists taking pictures outside the iconic Carrie Bradshaw’s Apartment, but there’s also a growing crowd of young females in the intersection with the 10th. Tara feels her heart pound violently against his chest and Enzo seems to hear it as well judging by the supportive way he laces his fingers with hers.

“Everybody is gonna be ecstatic to see you” Enzo says vehemently, pulling Tara to give her a one-armed hug

But it seems that Enzo is mistaken when Taeyong, Johnny, and Doyoung open the door of the 79th 10th street, looking nothing less than confused.

“What are you even doing here?” Doyoung scowls in puzzlement and asks, looking at Tara as though her presence as equally unexpected as it was unwelcomed.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in London?” Yuta joins the other three, panic evident in his voice.

“Keyword being ‘supposed’,” Tara swallows as she stares at the group with a frown.

“Oh God, what’s wrong with everybody today?” Enzo’s upper lip curls up in disgust “Can’t you at least pretend you’re somewhat happy to see us?”

“Is this about to take an unexpected plot twist that shifts this happy Christmas reunion from romance to horror, because I would appreciate it if you just told me if Mark is cheating on me with someone behind that door instead of giving me all these grievous looks”

“Gosh, no, this is definitely not about that” Johnny steps forward, his tall frame towering over Tara. “We’re very happy to see you, but-” He claims vehemently as he offers her a reassuring smile that doesn’t quite accomplish its purpose.

“It’s just that…” Taeyong manages to interrupt “Mark is not here”

“What?”

“He left at dawn” Yuta explains “He wanted to surprise you, but apparently missed the obvious fact you’d want to do exactly the same.”

Before the news can actually down on them, Enzo turns to Tara with rounded eyes and an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry… this was a terrible-”

“It’s ok. We can still make it back to London on time” Tara says, biting the inside of her cheek.

The suggestion makes Taeyong raise a brow skeptically, but Doyoung doesn’t even bother hiding his exasperation.

“Sorry to break it up to you but the flight to London will take you at least 11 hours” he points out, eyes rolling almost involuntarily.

“Not to mention you won’t possibly be able to book a ticket on Christmas Eve” Someone else objects, peeking through the open door.

“Oh, no, Don’t worry, we have connections” Enzo laughs, brushing the comments off with his signature overconfidence “it’ll take us 3 hours tops”

___________

The 14 hours it took Mark Yang to land in London are probably the most anxiety-inducing hours in his life. Considering he gets to spend most of his time on planes with the bunch of dorks his group mates are, that’s saying a lot. But the flight delay, the terrible weather conditions and the overly sensitive travelers trying to make it home for Christmas are the perfect recipe for disaster.

To complete the already disastrous scenario, Mark’s phone decided Christmas Eve was the perfect time of the year to act up and die on him, so by the time he made it out of the airport, he had to gather all his self-control not to snap at an elderly couple who stole the cab he had hailed. And when he finally managed to get in a taxi and everything seemed like it could finally work, the traffic jam and questionable driving style of the driver —who seemed to be lacking in festive spirit and cussed at everybody who tried to get past them— delayed his arrival two additional hours.

When Mark steps into his 19th-century residence in Kensington, where Tara and he had moved in after their engagement, he’s surprised to recognize he still finds the place oddly unfamiliar. It probably is the little time he has spent in it or the heavy Christmas decorations adorning pretty much every inch of surface, but he can’t help but feel an immense amount of guilt. This was supposed to be his and Tara’s first Christmas together after getting engaged and he truly wanted it to be special, but in between his group and solo promotions, multiple interviews and upcoming projects, he had been less than a stellar fiancé.

It’s snowing outside and it’s so cold his teeth start chattering as he makes his way in, the nostalgic scent of pine and sandalwood mingled with that of gingerbread filling his nostrils. Tara has never been particularly into Christmas so the fact everything looks so pristine and festive makes Mark wonder how lonely she had been feeling. Feeling guilt shot through his body once again, Mark’s first instinct is to rush to their room upstairs, but when he slams the door open hoping to wake up Tara, he finds out an empty bed. Sure, Tara had made sure new bed linens graced their bed and to place a bottle of champagne on the side table, but there are no traces of Tara.

Mark tours the house simultaneously looking for his fiancée and discovering how big it is, he finds freshly baked gingerbread cookies in the kitchen and watermelon cut in the perfect shape of stars and his heart clenches painfully. He wishes he could’ve prepared something for Tara other than a lame necklace from Tiffany’s.

The man finally walks into their living room and stops in his tracks as he notices two figures curled up on the burgundy couch. It takes Mark a few seconds to recognize the chiseled features of Enzo Saint Pierre, but what he notices right away is the way his arms are firmly wrapped around Tara and her head resting on his shoulder. Mark stands there not knowing what to do next. He could wake them up, but Tara looks like an angel when she’s sleeping, her chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths. And even if Enzo can be annoying sometimes, he is pretty sure there’s some reasonable explanation as to why he is sleeping in his home on Christmas Eve.

Mark is about to turn around to find a cover for them when Tara faintly calls his name.

“You’re home” she says groggily, eyes half-open

“T…” Mark mutters, not sure of what to say.

“Am I dreaming?” Tara asks and Mark laughs at that.

“No, I’m home,” he says walking up to her.

“We were waiting for you” Tara whispers. She doesn’t move and her voice is barely audible over the sound of logs blazing the fireplace.

“Doesn’t look like it” Mark jokes, taking the empty spot beside Tara and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

“Don’t be silly Mark Yang,” Enzo speaks, eyes still closed. ��We’re just tired after a six-hour round up to New York City, so if you appreciate your life, you better let us sleep.” Enzo moves bit tightening his hold on Tara and resting his chin on her shoulder.

“You did what…?” Mark asks in disbelief. But what sounded like a truly obnoxious lie from Enzo ends up being confirmed by a nod of Tara’s head.

“Enzo thought it’d be a good idea to surprise you, but when we got there the guys told us you were on your way here” Tara chuckles a bit although the actual experience was not as nearly as amusing as the memory is “Poor Taeyong, I’ve never seen him panic so badly, he was pale when he saw us.”

The three of them burst into laughter, but silence follows afterward. Enzo falls back to sleep, Tara drowsily reaches for her fiancé’s hand and Mark looks completely lost in his own wold. And it can’t be otherwise. Even in the simplest of the situations, it appears to Mark that Tara’s existence is the manifestation of every beautiful thing he’s ever witnessed in life and no words would ever be enough for him to describe the wholesome feeling he gets just by staring at her.

“I’m sorry,” He finally breaks the silence, after minutes of looking at her wordlessly. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long” he adds as he pulls her hand to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles.

Tara hums something incompressible and then untangles herself from Enzo, moving to straddle Mark and giving him a passionate kiss that takes him completely off guard, but he responds to with the same fervor. He holds her waist, pulling her closer to him and preventing her from moving. It seems like a lifetime since he last kissed her, so he doesn’t let go off her easily.

When they pull away minutes later, gasping for air, they look at each other amused.

Tara holds her boyfriend’s face with both hands and giggles happily. “Merry Christmas, Mark”

“Merry Christmas, my love” Mark is about to dive in for another kiss when Enzo lets out a groan.

“This is not how I was supposed to spend Christmas Eve, you two” he complains throwing a cushion at them.

“Keyword being supposed” Tara repeats once again, before pulling Mark in for yet another kiss.

It is definitely not how Enzo Saint Pierre was supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

***

#tara #mark #enzo #story #minah #otp #oc #friends #nct #moodboard

3 notes · View notes

porkchop-ao3 · 6 years ago

Text

Reciprocity

Here is something I wrote for Tailor Rick and Hairstylist Rick. After Rick Prime put the idea in his head, Tailor wants to try topping someone, but he wants someone he really trusts... Hairstylist is more than willing. This is mostly smut, but there are some feels involved, Tailor opens up a little, and there’s mention of panic attacks. I find it very hard to keep things purely emotion/angst free when writing about Tailor, especially when Hairstylist is involved. I love this pairing so much...

Let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy it :)

“Can I ask you something?” Tailor suddenly looked up from his sketchbook to look at Stylist, he was lounging on the sofa nearby, reading one of Tailor's vintage fashion magazines. He looked up, his eyes wide and curious.

“You can ask, I don't know if I'll have an answer,” he replied. Usually when he'd hang out at Tailor's studio, it'd be silence for most of the day. He liked that, it was a comfortable silence, they appreciated each other's company but didn't feel the need to converse with one another. The question had surprised him.

“There's a guy who I… I slept with once,” Tailor started, putting his pencil down and giving Stylist his full attention. “And now he wants to- to get together again but this time, switch roles.”

“He wants you to top him?” Stylist questioned, snorting without meaning to. He tried to cover it up, but Tailor didn't seem offended.

“I know, bizarre, right?” Tailor scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Alright, so what're you asking, if you should do it?”

“No. I'm not going to do it, I know that. He wasn't that fun the first time round, he's not worth the hassle,” Tailor shrugged.

“Charming.”

“However, I asked myself why I've never been interested in doing that. I mean, I've done it a few times but never with a man, it had always been with my…” Tailor trailed off, letting the sentence drop dead, but Stylist knew who he was talking about. “Hm, I suppose that's a reason in itself,” he muttered.

“Different strokes for different folks. I can go either way,” Stylist shrugged.

“You like bottoming?” Tailor asked, he seemed surprised by this.

“Sure, sometimes.”

“Hmmm.”

“Why?”

“I feel as though I might like to try it. Though, certainly not with that guy. It's been a long time since I topped anyone, I mean years, so I'm not sure if I'll be… well, I'm out of practice,” Tailor admitted, looking back down at his sketch.

“You're worried you won't be any good?” Stylist smirked in amusement, he wasn't used to Tailor admitting any kind of incapability. Tailor narrowed his eyes at him but let it slide.

“I never liked the idea of giving anal. My wife would ask me and I'd… I'd oblige. But it's rather an unpleasant concept, don't you think?”

“Nope,” Stylist laughed.

“Really? You don't see at all why it might be unpleasant?” Tailor cocked a brow and watched as Stylist sat up, placing the magazine down next to him.

“Of course, I know exactly what you're getting at. But that's not a problem when your partner knows what he's doing, is it?” Stylist smiled, looking Tailor up and down suggestively.

“I suppose. Do you know what you're doing?” Tailor asked with an edge to his tone.

“I've never had any complaints,” He grinned. Tailor rolled his eyes and looked away. “So what, you wanna give this a go?” Stylist moved suddenly, twisting around and kneeling on the sofa, bending over and pointing his ass towards Tailor, he gave it a firm smack.

“Please,” Tailor drawled in irritation, not even looking up. “Have some dignity.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“Yes,” Tailor hissed.

“You know, I don't know how to feel about you asking me, of all people,” Stylist got up and approached Tailor, slowly making his way around the table.

“Why's that?” Tailor eyed him with suspicion, looking him up and down.

“Well it's for either one of two reasons. A; you don't really care for my opinion of you, so you picked me to test out your topping skills cause you don't mind giving me bad sex,” he started, sitting up on Tailor's desk, mighty close to him. “Or B; you just trust me that much, you aren't scared to make a fool of yourself in front of me and you wouldn't let aaanyone else see you when you're not at the top of your game,” he ended with a cheeky little smile. Tailor's face remained deadpan throughout his speech, trying desperately hard not to react.

Stylist scooted across the table, pushing Tailor's things out of the way and bringing his leg over, so he was sitting directly in front of him with his legs hanging down either side of his chair.

“I'm gonna go with B,” he finished, licking his lips and hunching forwards, taking Tailor's face in his hands so he could kiss him. As unimpressed as he was, Tailor kissed back; he never could resist. His hands made their way to Stylist's thighs, sliding up as far as he dared. Breaking the kiss, Stylist whispered; “what if I come over tonight?”

“Tonight?” Tailor repeated, sighing softly as his heart rate increased.

“Plans?”

“No… I can do tonight. But come to the house in France, Beth has friends over for dinner tonight,” Tailor said after a pause, realising how ridiculous that sentence would be if he was speaking to anyone else; anyone without a portal gun.

“Mm, I like that house. Let's do it in the conservatory.”

“You mean that big, see-through, glass room?” Tailor chuckled.

“Well, it's not as if you're overlooked by neighbours,” Stylist shrugged.

“Good point.”

And that was that.

Tailor had set up the room for them, he'd pulled out the futon that lived in the conservatory and made their bed with lots of cushions and blankets. It wasn't as though the room was cold, the early evening sun was shining through the glass roof and had a sort of greenhouse effect, so it was warmer than the rest of the house. But the futon was a little lumpy, so he piled the blankets up to make it a little more comfortable for them. The conservatory was complete floor to ceiling glass and looked out onto the patio, and then the garden. The house had a lot of land, and nothing could be seen from all directions, so he wasn't nervous about being seen.

He pulled off his suit jacket and hung it on the back of a nearby armchair, then removed his tie and opened up the top few buttons of his shirt; he was feeling warm. He'd poured himself a glass of whisky and was nursing that as he waited for Stylist to show up. Tailor didn't want to admit that he felt nervous, but he did. He sighed and swept a hand over his hair, sitting down in the armchair and looking out over his garden. The gardeners hadn't been doing a very good job, he noted, some of the bushes out there looked a little overgrown. He'd have to have some words before he headed back to London.

“Look at you, surveying your land with a glass of whisky on the arm of your chair. Where's your pipe and slippers?” Tailor hadn't heard the portal open, perhaps it'd been in another room, but Stylist surprised him a little and his heart was back to thumping. He finished off his whiskey with one gulp and placed the glass on the floor by his feet so it wouldn't get knocked off, then rose to his feet.

Getting a look at Stylist nearly killed him. He looked hot, seriously hot. He was dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of acid wash cropped jeans, some hot pink flip-flops. His hair wasn't styled like it normally was. It was brushed messily over to one side and looked damp, like he'd just got out of the shower. Tailor was tempted to call the whole thing off and have him bend him over the arm of this chair and pound his ass until he couldn't remember his own name.

“You okay?” Stylist asked when he didn't get a greeting, just a long stare. Tailor approached him, unbuttoning his shirt further down until it was totally open; Stylist feasted his eyes on the exposed flesh and quirked a brow with interest.

Tailor reached him, hooking his fingers in the front of the waistband of Stylist's jeans; he tugged him forwards by his hips and kissed him roughly. The other man groaned in surprise, reaching and holding onto the open edges of Tailor's shirt as his mouth was utterly assaulted. He hadn't been kissed by Tailor with this much fire since the first time they hooked up, and it was off the back of a heated argument. His cock immediately jumped to life in his pants.

Stylist was pulled towards the bed, and when Tailor broke the kiss to sit down, he immediately climbed on top of him, straddling him. He pulled his own shirt off and dragged a hand through his unruly hair to get it out of his face, he clearly didn't realise how incredible he looked when he did that, but Tailor practically sobbed. Tailor's shirt was completely discarded next, and Stylist ran his hands all over his chest, playing with his nipples and feeling every flex of mildly defined muscle under his skin. Tailor's chest was rising and falling quickly, and his cock was firm where it pressed against Stylist's own bulge.

“So you wanna fuck me tonight then, hmm?” Stylist whispered, pushing Tailor down onto his back and sliding forwards so his ass was against his cock. He rubbed up against him, getting him used to the idea. He moaned quietly, holding onto Stylist's thighs.

“Y-y-yeah,” He breathed, kicking himself for his stutter. He usually had a decent grip on it.

Stylist moaned, leaning back with his hands on Tailor's knees, grinding his ass down on his cock, feeling its presence more and more as he worked him up.

“How'd you like to do it?” He asked, looking him straight in the eye. “You want me on top, like this?”

Tailor shook his head. “No, I want to be on top.”

Stylist smirked and turned around, straddling him the opposite way so he could bend over and present his ass to him. “What about doggy style? That way you can push my face in the sheets if I get too loud,” he said playfully, swaying his ass from side to side.

Tailor sat up, stroking his hands over his ass exploratively. He pulled at the jeans, trying to get them down. Stylist chuckled and helped him out, stripping down to his briefs – real tight, small ones that Tailor'd never seen him in – and settling back down in his lap, looking over his shoulder at him.

“I-I don't know, I...” Tailor shook his head, bringing his hands around to Stylist's front, touching his bulge and stroking it. He knew what he was doing with that, he wasn't going to embarrass himself. That underwear was far too small to properly contain his erection, and they were tented away from his body, making it easy for Tailor to slip his hand inside. Stylist sighed and leaned back against him, Tailor could feel the dampness of his hair against his shoulder and looked down his body to watch his hand pleasure him.

“Fuck,” Stylist sighed, his hips swaying forward and back into his hand. Tailor noted his position, him kneeling over his lap, leaning back into his shoulder, it was almost like he was getting a lap dance from him.

Tailor jerked his cock for a while, but he was stalling and he knew it. He had to stop being a little bitch sooner or later, so eventually he let go of Stylist's cock and took his hips in his hands, rolling him off of him and onto his back beside him on the bed. He climbed into the middle of the futon, positioning himself kneeling between Stylist's legs, who was looking up at him with his legs spread wide and his cock poking out from the top of his briefs. Tailor licked his lips and reached for the waistband; Stylist lifted his legs vertical so that Tailor could pull the briefs all the way down, discarding them behind him.

Spreading his legs wide again, Stylist gave him a cheeky smirk, revealing what was between his legs. Tailor finally saw it, the base of a butt plug peeking out from behind his balls and striking fear into his heart in a way he hadn't been expecting. In his head he'd expected to be able to ease himself into it, use his fingers on him like he had done a couple of times in the past during blow jobs, he knew what he liked with that. He'd had some practice. But now, he presumed that Stylist had done this with good intentions of making Tailor's life easier, he'd taken care of preparing himself completely, so they could move right into having sex without having to worry about it. If he thought about it long enough, Tailor might even have felt touched, but in the moment he just felt annoyed.

Tailor didn't like surprises. He liked to plan things out and execute them in the way he'd practiced in his head. When anything was changed beyond his control, it threw him off. For some bizarre reason, Tailor felt the creeping, clawing sensation of an oncoming panic attack. What on earth? This was no time for one of those, and what was the point of it? He was having sex! Sure, it was a little different to their usual sex but he knew Stylist, he was comfortable with him every other time they'd been in the bedroom together. What was this?

He cleared his throat for some reason, a distraction of some kind; he wasn't sure if he was trying to distract himself or Stylist. He took a moment, sitting back on his heels and staring down at the space between them on the futon, breathing as steadily as he could through his nose as he began to feel shaky and out of it, like he did when he hadn't eaten in a while.

“Tailor?” Stylist's voice was soft with concern and he felt his face heat up in embarrassment.

“Y-you don't mess around, hm? All ready for me,” Tailor said, his voice was quiet and monotonous and he forced himself to look him in the eye.

“Should I not have done this?” Stylist questioned, sensing that something was amiss. He knew that Tailor had certain quirks, his mind seemed to work a little differently than he expected sometimes. Every now and then he'd say or do something that seemed to bother him, and Stylist felt like he didn't always know him enough to understand why.

“It's fine,” Tailor shook his head, sliding his hand down the inside of Stylist's thigh towards the toy, his fingertips brushing over it before he fondled his balls.

“Are you alright?”

“I just need–” Tailor closed his eyes, not seeming to know what to say. Something bad was going on in his head and Stylist didn't have a clue what it was. He sat up, placing his hands on Tailor's thighs and waiting. “I feel anxious.”

Stylist's brows shot up. He was not expecting him to admit to something like that.

“Why?” he asked, knowing it was a dumb question.

“I don't know! If I knew, I could stop it.”

“We don't have to do this, baby, don't force yourself.”

“Or maybe I do know. I know why but it's so silly!” Tailor's brow came down in annoyance and he looked over to the side, out the window.

“It's not silly, whatever it is.”

“It is. It's because the last time I fucked someone like this, I was still married and I thought everything was hunky bloody dory. That's pathetic,” his face was red, and Stylist's pulse quickened at the mention of his wife. Tailor had never gone into detail about how his marriage had ended, but Stylist knew that she had hurt him very deeply with her unfaithfulness.

“What are you scared of, history repeating itself? What happened with your wife happening again just 'cause you do this?” Stylist wasn't a therapist, he was kind of winging it, but he wanted to help.

“No… that wouldn't make sense. Logically I know that's stupid. Logically, I want to do this,” Tailor turned his head back, not looking Stylist in the eye but looking at him.

“Doesn't have to be logical to make you feel like shit.”

They were quiet for a while. Not that it mattered, but Stylist had lost his erection and so had Tailor.

“Maybe I'm… I don't know. Maybe that was the last good thing about my marriage and if I do this, it won't be unique anymore,” Tailor finally said.

“And why's that a bad thing?”

“Is it? I don't know. I guess it's not,” Tailor looked up at him, his eyes a little wider than normal.

“So this is okay, right? You can do this and nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“Yeah but…”

“Go on.”

“If I can fuck someone like this, and that's not just something I did with her… then what else about that relationship isn't unique? The way I can let someone completely fucking take over my life, my mind?”

“You mean like… Fall in love?” Stylist's lips curled up a little at the edges.

“I mean like give them the potential to fucking destroy me, rip out my soul,” Tailor was speaking through clenched teeth now.

“Yeah, love.”

“I don't– yeah.” Tailor shook his head, his eyes distant as they stared at the mattress.

“Richard,” Stylist whispered, making Tailor's mouth twitch. “I want you to forget about her for tonight, just think about me. Put all of your attention on me, every bit.”

“Self centred.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “I’m more important than her now.”

“That's not difficult to achieve,” Tailor muttered.

“So don't let her screw up our night,” Stylist wrapped his hand around the back of Tailor's neck, pulling him in gently to kiss him.

He laid back against the mattress, bringing Tailor with him, he reached for his trousers, unbuttoning them and reaching his hand inside, finding his cock and stroking him back to hardness. It took a little while, his mind was still obviously elsewhere, but soon he was moaning softly and pressing his hips forward. Hearing him and feeling him in his hand was enough to make Stylist's own cock grow again, and he let go of Tailor to push his trousers further down, they were discarded completely with some help. He held onto his ass and pulled him flush to him, Tailor naturally began to grind when their cocks touched, rubbing them together.

“I want you to fuck me,” Stylist broke the kiss and whispered in Tailor's ear, hearing him groan in response. “I don't care if it doesn't work out or it ends up not being your thing, I wanna try.”

“Fuck,” Tailor sighed. Moving and sitting up, kneeling between Stylist's legs again. His face was flushed and his perfectly styled pompadour was loosening up, pieces of hair falling forwards into his face.

Tailor plucked the bottle of lube he'd left on the arm of the futon sofa and dropped it beside him as he looked back down between Stylist's legs. He didn't give himself enough time to work himself up, he reached for the butt plug and gently rocked it back and forth for a moment, watching Stylist's cock twitch and hearing his shaky breath pick up. He then gently eased it out, watching his tight hole stretch around the widest point. Stylist moaned, seeming to subconsciously grip the toy, like he didn't want it removing. Tailor opened his mouth to tell him; don't worry, you won't be empty for long, or something equally as embarrassing. Luckily he caught his tongue in time.

The toy glistened with lube where he placed it down on the bed, and Tailor licked his lips as he covered his cock in a generous helping, jerking himself a little more than he needed to to distribute it.

“Are you ready?” He asked.

Stylist smiled up at him. “I am. Are you?”

Tailor paused, then nodded, scooting forwards so their hips were close, he held himself up with his hands either side of Stylist's shoulders. He looked down at him for a moment, seeing the patient warmth in his green eyes, and quickly averted his gaze. He took his cock in his hand, watching as he guided it to Stylist's opening; he moaned even at the sensation of the head of it pressing against him, and he hadn't even penetrated. It was a little tricky – he was tight! – but eventually he managed to get the head in and he gasped, his toes curling at the almost too hot, tight, glorious sensation.

Stylist bit his lip, humming quietly in satisfaction at his ass being stretched; he let Tailor have his moment but he was itching for more of it, deeper, he wanted to be filled up completely.

It'd been so long since Tailor had fucked someone he'd forgotten what it felt like. He remembered that it felt good, sometimes he found himself missing the way pussy felt, despite barely remembering it. Though, it wasn't worth the hassle, going out and getting some just to remind himself. But never mind that, all Tailor knew was that Stylist's ass felt incredible and he pushed himself deeper, indulging in the way his cock was squeezed and surrounded by delicious, slippery warmth.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, closing his eyes as he buried himself as deep as he could go. Stylist let out a little laugh that wasn't quite girly enough to be a giggle, but it was pretty close.

Tailor knew right from the start that he was in trouble. It felt too good, too intense, he was going to cum quickly, he just knew it. His cock was used to being stroked by a hand or sucked by a mouth, it didn't get an awful lot of intense stimulation, his ass was where the real action always happened. This was a huge step up from anything his body had grown accustomed to, he told himself there was no shame in it and rather than struggle with this information, he opened his eyes and looked directly at Stylist. He didn't like admitting to things, but since he'd been doing that more often lately, he couldn't deny how much easier it had made things for him.

“I'm afraid I don't think I'm going to last long,” he started, and Stylist only grinned. “Don't worry, there's a blow job in it for you.”

“Cum whenever you want, baby, don't hold back on my account. We can do this as many times as you like, you'll have plenty of pr-practice,” he replied in a low, suggestive tone. He didn't sound in the least bit disappointed, or like he was mocking him.

Tailor immediately felt more confident and pulled his hips back slowly. He tested the water with some slower pushes, getting used to the motion of it. He felt like a bloody virgin again, but he soon fell into a rhythm, it was like riding a bike. He moved his hands to the top of Stylist's thighs, holding onto him so he could drive himself deeper, quicker. Stylist sat up on his elbows, his breaths coming loud and fast as Tailor's cock struck his prostate.

This might have been a big deal for Tailor, but it was also a big deal for Stylist. He wouldn't deny that he had a special place in his heart for Tailor, he knew that he was a difficult man to get close to and he didn't like to push his luck, but he felt as though he was getting somewhere. Every time Tailor surprised him with a suggestion, or admitted something to him, or let him get away with something that he knew damn well would get other Ricks a scornful response… Tailor took up a little more space in his chest. He didn't live in fantasy land, though, he knew it was very unlikely that they'd end up anything more than what they were now. But that was the thing, Stylist found that he didn't mind. He was content to be whatever Tailor wanted him to be, if it meant he was someone of importance in his life.

“Fuck, fuck…” Tailor grunted, pounding into him quickly now, his jaw was clenched tightly and his hands were too. Stylist loved it, dropping back down against the futon and crying out loudly, shamelessly, letting Tailor know just how good he felt. His cock was laying against his stomach, drooling precum as his prostate was milked relentlessly. He didn't touch it, not wanting to distract himself from how Tailor felt inside him. He could cum from this alone, anyway, given enough time and encouragement.

He knew that it wasn't going to happen tonight though, when Tailor's face shifted into that loose, carefree, open mouthed expression of pure pleasure that Stylist always saw when he was about to orgasm.

“Cum inside me, baby. I know you're close. Just do it for me,” Stylist crooned, sliding his hands over his own body, letting Tailor watch him as he dragged his fingers through the precum on his stomach, smearing it before he played with his own nipples.

“Oh God. It feels so fucking good, I don't wanna cum but I'm–” Tailor cut himself off, his eyes scrunching shut and his brow mashing down. He let out a groan that sounded different to his usual orgasms, it was longer, louder, like he had less control over it. His thrusts became rougher and messier, Stylist felt things become wetter and if he hadn't guessed already, he knew for sure Tailor was cumming. Stylist moaned, gratified at the sight and sound of him, knowing he was the one being filled with cum for a change. He almost felt high.

Tailor made a sound that was almost like a sob and abruptly pulled out, his cock becoming unbearably sensitive very quickly. He was still dripping cum as he did, his body still reeling from waves of pleasure, it was the most intense orgasm he'd had in a long time. His breathing was extremely laboured and he needed more than just a minute to come back down to earth. Stylist was whispering to him, he couldn't hear what he was saying and he didn't ask him to repeat it, but he let him sit up and pepper his chest in kisses. His body was buzzing, the sensation of a tongue against his nipple had his spent cock jumping, pulling a jerky gasp from him.

“Bend over,” Tailor heard him that time, and grunted in confusion in response. “Bend over for me,” Stylist repeated, withdrawing his legs from either side of him and moving.

Tailor, still feeling malleable in the afterglow, moved onto all fours as he twisted around to present his ass to Stylist, who was sliding the butt plug back into himself. Tailor cursed under his breath, letting his head hang down between his shoulders, staring at the wet spot they'd left on the blanket. He felt something wet and hot nestling between his ass cheeks and he didn't need much imagination to know what it was. Stylist rutted against him, he wasn't fucking him, but sliding his cock between the cleft of his backside quickly and purposefully. Tailor guessed he wouldn't need to give him that blow job. That was nice, he leaned his chest down against the bed and let Stylist do what he needed to do, listening to his heavy breaths.

It surprised him how quickly it was all over, he felt like he'd only been fucking him for a minute or two before his own orgasm, he was expecting it to take awhile for Stylist to reach his own peak. He must've lasted longer than he thought, because Stylist only took about thirty seconds to finish messily over his ass. Any other time, Tailor would've been pissed about being used in such a way, and being ejaculated onto like an old sock or something. This time, though, he kind of liked it. Especially when Stylist muttered something complimentary about his ass, then bent down to lap away the cum that had dribbled between his cheeks.

“Fuck, yes,” Tailor sighed, his body going rigid as Stylist tongued his asshole, sending shock waves and tingles all the way down his cock. He'd have to be there for a while to get him hard again, but that wasn't the goal.

Tailor saw the butt plug being dropped onto the bed next to him again, this time it was streaked with cum – his cum – from being inside Stylist. He certainly wasn't as eager as him to use his tongue, however. He felt the blanket being used to wipe away the rest of the cum on his ass, then he moved, helping Stylist to pull the top, cum-stained blanket off of the bed and toss it on the floor along with the butt plug. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of leaving it there to fester, but he tried to push it out of his mind. He was knackered.

“I hope to God you liked that so we can do it again,” Stylist sighed as he laid down on his front, bending his knee and hiking his leg up so his upper body was turned a little. He peered back at Tailor where he was sitting cross-legged on the other end of the bed. Tailor glanced at him, letting his eyes trail down to the curve of his ass and where he could see his balls peeking out.

Tailor laid down next to him, on his back and staring through the glass roof. It was almost totally dark outside now.

“Did it look like I liked it?” He asked.

Stylist took a breath. He wanted to reach out and touch him, rest his head on his chest or something, but he didn't. “Yeah, it did.”

“So you needn't worry,” Tailor shrugged, something close to a smile on the edge of his mouth.

“Okay. Fuck me again tonight?”

It caught Tailor off guard and he snorted. How unflattering. “Again?”

“Yeah.”

“I don't know, let me rest.”

“Alright,” he said, scooting closer to Tailor and kissing his shoulder. Tailor looked at him from the corner of his eye. He felt like he should say something else, or Stylist should. He didn't know what, but it felt like there was something hanging in the air other than the smell of sex. Stylist felt it too.

“Richard, I think I lo-”

“Not that.” Tailor interrupted Stylist, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

“Huh?”

“If you're going to speak, say something else.”

Stylist sighed, kissing his shoulder again. So, not yet. He'd gone in too soon. That was okay.

“Richard?” Stylist started, Tailor hummed in acknowledgement, though there was a warning to the sound. “Do you mind me calling you Richard?”

After a pause, Tailor shook his head. “You can call me that. When we're alone.”

Stylist smiled and brushed his hand up and down Tailor's arm affectionately.

“Is there anything you'd like to be called?” Tailor asked, he'd never given it much thought. He never really used his name, but he wouldn't mind some sort of distinction from other Ricks.

“Daddy,” He said without a pause, and Tailor nearly picked up a pillow to smother him with. He rolled over onto his side, showing his back to him. Stylist laughed and scooted up behind him, using the opportunity to spoon him.

“Get off,” Tailor grumbled.

“You can call me what you want, I'm not picky,”

“‘Annoying Hairdresser’ is too much of a mouthful.”

“Last time I checked, you didn't mind having a mouthful of me,” Stylist said cheekily, sliding his hand down Tailor's front, playing with his groomed pubic hair. “Just keep calling me Rick, if you want any chance of me responding. Though, sweetie could work too. Or darling. I like the way you say that.”

Tailor grunted in response.

“I'm going to the bathroom, want me to get you a drink or something while I'm up?” Stylist pushed away from Tailor, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I'm okay, thank you,” Tailor murmured, feeling the mattress shift as he got up and left. Tailor immediately felt cold now that the sun had gone down and he didn't have Stylist's body heat.

He pretended that was why he wanted him to come back quickly.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rickcest #fanfiction #tailor rick #hairstylist rick #my oc #oc rick

18 notes · View notes

chimpukampu · 7 years ago

Text

A Dork Named Adrien, Day 4 - Fashion

For @seasonofthegeek Adrien Appreciation Week challenge

AO3 | Fanfiction | Wattpad

Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

BTW in France, they call their tuxedos as smoking same with other European countries but I'll stick with the American English term instead to avoid further confusions.

This chapter is about Adrien and his male classmates, 'coz canon failed to focus on their tight friendship. Also, lots of fashion tips for men…and bad puns.

Slight S2 spoilers.

"You need a what?"

"A fashion guru, man. A fashion guru. One who knows about fashion," Nino told him casually "You're a fashion model so you're very much familiar with suits."

"Nino, I do Haute Couture. It's not similar with Prêt-à-Porter."

"Who cares? They're both articles of clothing anyway." Kim interjected but was nudged by Max.

"Prêt-à-Porter is a high quality, factory made fashion that is only available pre-seasonally, catering to climate and economic changes. Haute Couture, on the other hand, is a high-quality custom-fit piece made for a specific client and is regulated by a French law."

Markov settled himself on his bespectacled master's shoulder and added "Haute Couture houses are committed to present collections twice a year of at least thirty-five pieces of – "

"Will you two just stop explaining irrelevant things?" the jock scowled much to their chagrin "It's not helpful."

"Hey!"

"Can we just drop those fancy names and simply call Prêt-à-Porter as 'ready-to-wear' while Haute Couture as 'high-end fashion'?" Nathanael offered, which earned a nod from Ivan.

"I'm a bit confused. I don't understand why you all want my advice," said Adrien who was scratching the side of his chin "Why can't you just approach Marinette? She's an aspiring fashion designer and she knows all about tailored suits."

"No way we will ask Marinette about this," his best friend shook his head with a grimace "Even if Marinette kept this as a secret, Alya will still be able to pull the information out of her mouth. Alya can even interrogate a mute and they will tell her everything. You have no idea how scary she is."

"I'm pretty much aware of her cape-abilities."

"I'm going to let your pun slide, Agreste. Don't make me strangle you."

"Once Alya knows this," Ivan interrupted their banters "No way she will never share it with the girls, especially to Mylene."

"Or to Chloe," Nathanael added.

"Okay, I think I get what you mean," the blond model chuckled "Who doesn't want to dress to impress their girl? Am I right, Nino?"

"Shut up, you filthy rich brat."

"I don't need to dress to impress," Kim patted his chest proudly "Because Ondine is already proud of me – OUCH! Max, what was that for?!"

"Nobody wants to know your icky love story," the bespectacled boy sneered as he unrolled the magazine that he used to hit his friend's head "It's not helpful."

The boys' raucous laughs erupted when Kim's cheeks turned into an overripe tomato.

Mayor Bourgeoise made an announcement that his beloved daughter will be celebrating her birthday party in Le Gran Paris, and since it was a black-tie event, it was expected that there will be some famous celebrities, politicians and the press attendees there.

Despite the glitz and glamour, Chloe extended the invitation to her 'peasant' classmates. And of course, the class wholeheartedly accepted it.

"We better not screw this up," said Nino who was forced to slouch on the car seat as Ivan's large arm occupied almost half of the backrest "Not only for our girlfriends' sanity but also for our dignity. I bet there will be reporters there that could capture our mess and ruin our future."

"C'mon man, live a life! Yolo guys, Yolo!" answered by Kim who was sitting on the opposite side "Nobody cares if we'll do something funny there."

"No Kim, Nino's right," Nathanael defended glumly "Unlike you who has a scholarship grant, us here have to avoid any controversial issues that could reach to our prospect schools and lead them to cancel our application. Universities are quite sensitive to mass media nowadays."

Kim grumbled incoherently then slumped in his seat.

"This is a nice change of pace after our horrendous Bac," Ivan commented as he stared at the windows.

Nino groaned while cradling his head "Please don't remind me about that."

Adrien was supposed to be commuting with his friends, but when they learned about Gorilla's presence, they pleaded him to take them for a ride in his limousine.

He couldn't say no to their loud whines.

Now the six boys and a floating miniature robot – plus an undisclosed kwami in the pocket – were all cramped at the passenger's seat.

The ride to Haussmann-Saint-Lazare-Opéra was quite short. Considered as the commercial heart of Parisian shopping, this urban center is a home to major department stores and cheap deals, especially on men's clothing.

"According to the data that I have gathered last night, Manteau et Cravate sells the cheapest yet high-quality tuxedos in town," Max said as he swiped something on his phone. "They also have tux rentals too."

"I don't think I'll have another chance to wear a tuxedo after Chloe's party," Ivan mumbled, with eyes skimming on the store displays that they've passed. "As this is just a one-time event."

"You can still wear a tux on some formal occasions like weddings or anniversaries," their jock classmate supplied "We never know, Chloe might invite us again next year."

"Hmm, you might be right."

"Maman said that the jacket might not fit me after a year or two." Nathanael told them "So I'll just rent a tuxedo instead."

"So rent we shall do," said Nino, pushing the store's glass door open.

Shopping with male friends is way different than Chloe's, Adrien bemused as he observed the ruckus that was happening inside the shop. For his childhood friend, shopping means hopping from one store to another, multiple dress fittings and carrying several tote bags as they marched to another boutique.

Nino and the gang, however, prefer to stay at one place that could cater all of their needs. No window shoppings, catalog viewings, dress fittings or side trips like cafe and restaurants.

He never realized that hanging out with a group of boys for shopping was pretty straight-forward until now.

It was quite refreshing.

"What the hell is the difference between tuxedos and suits?" Kim complained as he rummaged the jackets that were hung neatly on the display racks "They all look the same!"

"Tuxedos have satins while suits don't," the blond model explained, "There are few exceptions to the rule though, but I think you'll find it sew-fisticated."

He guffawed when someone socked him with a pair of rolled socks. Thankfully, they were unused.

"Hey, Adrien," Nathanael called his attention behind the shelves "Which of these bow ties do you think would match on my dress shirt?"

"Bow ties?!" the jock reacted "Ew, that's for oldies! Why can't we use long neckties?"

"That depends on your jacket and shirt collar, Kim," reasoned Adrien. "Though most tuxes are best suited with bow ties."

"I hope you did not say that to deliver a pun," he deadpanned.

"Hey, all of my puns are intended."

This time, it was Nino who socked him with a belt.

Ivan emerged in front of them, holding two pieces of black garments "Adrien, waistcoat or cummerbund?"

"For you?"

His huge classmate nodded.

When he showed him a double-breasted coat, he answered: "Waistcoat would be tear-riffic on your attire."

Ivan made a non-committal hum as he left for a dress fitting.

"Can I use suspenders?" Max asked, showing him his single-buttoned jacket with silver lapels. "What colors should I use?"

"You can," Adrien answered, "But suspenders should never be visible and must be hidden completely beneath the waist covering and jacket, so it denim matter if it's a black or white."

Kim hastily shoved some lapel accessories on his face "Hey, I want a flower like what I saw on the ads! Can I use a flower on my jacket, Adrien?"

"Y – You mean Boutonnière? Of course," was his cringe reply after removing an artificial petal from his mouth "Just stick to a single flower, preferably red or white."

"Can I use yellow?"

Adrien gave him an impassive look for a moment before he sighed defeatedly. He turned his head around and noticed Nino on the other side of the room with a blanked expression.

"Hey dude, are you okay there?" he asked, tapping his best friend's shoulder lightly.

The DJ groaned inwardly "I'm having troubles on selecting tux here, man. They're all the same shade of black yet I'm not sure if any of these will compliment my skin complexion."

"I know what you mean," said the blond as he began to examine the tuxedo sets on the racks "You can wear a dark jacket and trouser to play safe, but if you're asking for my opinion, I'd prefer if you wear an off-black one. Like this."

Nino eyed the articles that he pulled out from the hanger "Are you sure about this, dude?"

"I'm a fashion guru, remember?" his friend announced proudly then flashed him a lopsided grin "I'm well Versaced in this area."

"I have no idea what Marinette sees in you," he retorted dryly.

The blond crossed his arms as if offended, "There Armani things that Marinette sew in me. And if she knows about this, I bet she would be very Prada me."

"Adrien, no."

Before the boys left the shop, Adrien reminded them of their shoes.

"Does that mean I can't wear my sneakers?!"

"No, Kim. You can't," the blond retorted with a straight face, "That's a fedoral offense."

37 notes · View notes