#FUCKING KILL ME WITH YOUR SOFTNESS LUCAS I AM READY

[conduiitz]

Okay. Put your money where your mouth is. Random headcanons about your OCs, GO

Be careful what you wish for B) how many do you want? And I will give you random fact instead bc head canons are already canon in my head :P

Since it's the infamous release day i will give you only my conduits/head world! :D <3

Luca:

He's 25% Canadian, 25% Italian and 50% Swedish, and yes he can speak Italian, and he understand Swedish but isn't the best at speaking it. Thanks to his dad being Swedish and mom half Italian/Canadian. :P

His dad was a fisherman! Mom is an Italian teacher so that's why he learned Italian as well :P

Yes I've killed his dad c:

All his senses are cranked up to 11, that gives him damn good hearing, sight, smell, anything really, thanks to his powers.

He's also super strong but i mean hello all conduits are.

He's Bi, but he do like girls a lot! (oh here's a real head canon, he's dating a girl named Candy Behr from The sims 4! I made him in sims and he really fell for her so that's a head canon i carry with me now lol!)

Also a head canon! Due to his powers are glass. And glass is made of part of sand. That will mean he can use sand if he really have to. He will need to be really drained from his glass and his body needs to be in real fight or flight mode. Then he can use sand. It will be really hard for him to control tho since its such a soft material compared to glass that's he's used too.

Isaac:

It's the DUP that made him so fucking big. He was originally a really skinny man before they fucked him up. He was working as a chef in eastern Canada. Then he somehow ended up in Curdun Cay and they turned him into a glass beast.

His powers are also glass!

He's around 2m tall.

He can speak french fluently!

Just like Luca's eyes, Isaac's also glow in the dark. Depending on how much powers he has stored and/or how drained he is.

He has really electric blue eyes tho.

This guy love to cook.

Another head canon! Conduits and their freaky bodies needs to eat a lot to power their powerhouse to body. Isaac being so big need to eat a lot and him cooking his own food makes him keep the cost down. Have you seen the amount of food really strong ppl eating? Yeah? Its' a lot.

Zion:

Zion is 16 years and has cool smoke powers.

This guy is also Swedish! (bc i am)

But he can speak it fluently! Since he moved to Seattle when he was 5 with his family, mom left the second they arrived in the States, and dad and Zion is still living together.

His biggest hero is Delsin Rowe, and when Zion got his power and learned Delsin also has smoke made him so starstruck.

Zion collect Delsin merch. Like... a lot.

Zion is small! Like 155-160cm.

Nature made him small to avoid the DUP easily (I'm nature)

Him still being in school with super powers isn't easy as he has to take weird turn and avoid the DUP checkpoint at all time, when his friends can just walk straight thru them. That isn't suspicious at all?

Zion thinks his dad don't know he has powers but this guy smells like a camp fire all the time the dad is starting to wonder.

"As long as it's not cigarette smoke I don't really mind, he's having fun that's whats important"

Random world head canons:

So yeah this is still set in Seattle, the timeline is a mix from First Light to the middle section of Second Son i'd say. Like DUP is still here and kicking doors.

I'd like to imagine Luca being used in the last part of First Light (where you chase after Shane), to hunt Fetch. Like he's training is almost done at that part and ready to be released into the wild to hunt conduits. This part is kinda like a "last test" for him. He tracks down Fetch in the snowstorm and bring her back to the facility, and then she's being put in the truck and you know the rest lmao.

[phantom-curve]

find the strength, find the melody pt. 5

this is still a working title. I just can’t decide if it fits or not, so feel free to offer any suggestions! once I finish this fic I’m going to go back and reblog it in it’s entirety and I promise I will finalize and update the title for all the reblogs to make it easier to find in the future. I’m probably also going to post the completed fic to AO3, possibly with some slight editing updates. I’ll add the link once that’s active.

also, I want you all to know that I almost missed a typo in this chapter that would have had Julie biting her nip instead of her lip so you’re welcome for that. 

also also, this chapter solidified my decision to write this fic from Luke’s perspective once I finish Julie’s. my god, the things happening in this boy’s head during this scene had me taking a bath and calling my husband for cuddles at 2pm. HE’S JUST TOO SOFT. Reggie and Alex will be more prominent in his story. their characters are so fun to write, but harder to work into Julie’s story until it’s closer to the end. 

to be fully honest, I’m not entirely happy with the cut-off on this chapter, but I felt like y'all deserved all 3,084 words after a 6 day hiatus so I had to pick a slightly more awkward end spot. hope it makes up for taking so long to update!

tag list (lmk if you want me to add you!): @blue-hat-girl, @lwhoscribbles, @bluefyoto94, @5sosmukefan, @moonlightxnder, @leahthewonder​, @kat-maybe-not​

Julie didn’t expect to see Luke the next day. When her alarm went off at 6:45 that morning, she woke up with a start, heart racing as memories of last night flooded back. She had been ready to defend herself and Luke to her father, but it had been business as usual in the Molina household. Her father had gotten up like normal and gone about his morning without any hiccups from a very cute, unexpected teenage boy showing up. Julie could hear him leaving for work now, calling up a loving goodbye to her in between shouts at Carlos to hurry his butt into the car. When she peeked out of her window at the studio it looked exactly the same as it always did, empty and still. For a moment, she was sure that she dreamed the entire thing.

Something felt different in her soul though. Realigned, like a part of her she didn’t realize was missing had finally made its way back home. Everything in her body felt lighter as she got dressed and floated down the stairs to grab her breakfast. She was riding high on cloud nine, humming actually humming! under her breath as she moved around the kitchen, when a loud rap at the back door startled her. Flynn would have just walked in so it couldn’t be her. Her dad, too, would have simply run inside if he had forgotten something. It wasn’t until she was already reaching for the door handle that she recognized the electricity sparking in the air. She opened the door to a now familiar pair of puppy dog eyes waiting on the other side.

“I thought I told you to leave by 6:30 so my dad wouldn’t see you.”

Julie tried to make her voice snappy, but it was so hard when he was standing there, bobbing and weaving in the early morning sunshine, eyes shining, lips curved into the sweetest smile. He took her words in stride. His smile stretched as his head dipped with a charming amount of bashfulness. She realized with a jolt that he had been doing that for days now, ever since she ran into him after her meeting with Ms. Harrison. Just rolling right through every punch she threw at him like it was nothing. Her walls slipped a little lower.

“I thought I could make you breakfast. You know, as a thank you for last night.”

Her brain short circuited. Luke Patterson...wanted to...make her breakfast? She had to turn the words over in her mind a few times before they began to make sense. Julie studied him for a moment, noticing that he seemed much more like his normal confident self this morning. Gone was the unsteady boy that had stood in her mom’s studio doorway last night. Still, one shoulder was hitched a little higher than the other, his fingers flexing against the backpack strap slung over it. His face was open and eager, but she could detect the hint of nervousness that he was trying to cover up. She caught a faint whiff of jasmine as a slight breeze blew past them and immediately zeroed in on the damp wisps of hair curling around his neck. The thought of Luke in her shower, using her soap was almost her undoing. Desperately trying to get a hold on the situation, she leaned against the open doorway, crossing her arms across her chest in what she hoped was a nonchalant movement.

“I thought we were going to pretend last night didn’t happen.”

His smile faltered a little bit, his free hand flying up to scratch at the back of his neck. His bouncing shifted to rocking, and Julie felt the change in his demeanor like a punch to her gut.

“Yeah...okay...I mean if that’s what you want. I’ll uh, see you around, Molina.”

His voice lacked its typical singsong quality, rejection flattening the lilt she had become accustomed to. Pain bloomed in Julie’s chest, familiar and foreign all at the same time. It wasn’t like the pain she was used to, wasn’t connected to her mom or her music. This pain was all about Luke and the fact that she had just hurt him for no reason at all. Shame rolled through her stomach in a nauseous wave. Luke was already adjusting the bag higher on his shoulder, turning away from her, body language all but screaming “leave me alone”. It didn’t stop her from reaching out and laying a hand against his shoulder.

“Luke.”

His name was a plea and an apology rolled into one. She felt the ripple of his muscles as his body reacted to it, dropping her hand only when he turned to face her. Their eyes caught, the air sparking between them.

“What were you going to make?”

His brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes never leaving hers. She knew she had to do better, but God, it was hard to face your feelings after bottling them up for so long.

“For breakfast. I usually just grab a Pop-Tart to eat on my walk to school. Do you actually cook every morning?”

Luke was still staring. Julie bit her lip, the tail end of a nervous giggle that she couldn’t quite suppress all the way slipping out. The sound seemed to jolt him out of whatever trance he was in. In two seconds, he was back to bouncing on the balls of his feet, arms loose at his sides once more.

“Yeah, I do.”

The shy smile on his lips did something to Julie’s insides that she wasn’t willing to investigate just yet.

“Usually eggs, but sometimes waffles or pancakes on the weekends. Bacon if the boys are coming over. It’s the most important meal of the day, ya know.”

His eyes were bright again, practically glowing like they usually did when he started talking about something he was passionate about. Julie had only ever seen him like this when he was going off on another music related rant in class. Who knew breakfast foods could be so inspiring?

“Well, that sounds a lot better than strawberry Pop-Tarts.”

She turned, leaving the door open as she started to walk back towards the kitchen. She could hear Luke hesitate in the doorway, but all it took was one look over her shoulder and he was rushing in after her, quietly closing the door in his wake. They walked to the kitchen in silence, Julie trying to figure out what the hell was happening in her head and heart the entire time.

The instant Luke entered the kitchen it was like she was seeing a completely different side of him. He was quick and sure with all of his movements, taking only a few minutes to find everything he needed without even asking her for guidance. The muscles of his forearm rippled as he whisked the eggs together, the flick of his wrist just as mesmerizing now as when he played guitar. His confidence on stage had always been awe-inspiring, the way he moved and the energy he gave off undeniably cool and sure, never an ounce of doubt that he was anything other than amazing. It was a way for him to prove he was the best of the best, show that he had fully earned the title of “Rockstar”.

This moment in her sunny kitchen showed a quieter confidence. Nothing flashy or showy, just Luke doing something he clearly enjoyed for no other reason than the fact that he liked it. The rock god attitude had always been surface-level hot, sure, but this kind of domestic comfortability was an entirely new level of attractive. Julie felt her mouth go dry, the tips of her ears growing warm the longer she watched him. He hummed under his breath, the sound reverberating in her soul and sending little shivers up and down her spine. It wasn’t until he was sliding a plate of steaming scrambled eggs and toast in front of her that she finally recognized the melody. Her breath caught and he met her eyes with a gentle expression.

“I told you already, it’s an incredible song.”

He grabbed his own plate and lowered himself into the chair next to hers at the bar. He immediately began shoveling eggs in his mouth. Julie took a few bites of her own food, pleasantly surprised at how good it was. Then an ugly thought took over her brain. She dropped her fork, turning to stare at Luke with a dark intensity she couldn’t control.

“Did you...did you play my mom’s song?”

She couldn’t keep the betrayal out of her voice. It echoed in the room, low and hollow, like the sound of tomb closing. Luke’s own fork fell with a clatter.

“Julie, no.”

His voice was just as desperate, filled with pain and apology.

“I swear to you, no. I wouldn’t do that. I knew what it was as soon as I found it. I couldn’t hurt you like that. I never even showed it to Reggie or Alex.”

She believed him. The look on his face, the tone of his voice, proved to her that he wasn’t lying. Then, his cheeks turned a very light pink.

“I just...sometimes...I would read it. Not around the guys.”

He was quick to add that part in there, like he was assuring her he could protect the things that were important to her. Like he was promising to protect her. She could tell he was a little uncomfortable with the revelation, but he pushed through anyway.

“Just like...at night before bed...or when I was stuck on a song and needed some inspiration.”

His eyes rose to meet hers, some tender emotion she couldn’t identify lurking in their oceanic depths.

“I meant it when I said you’re an incredible songwriter. Sometimes...”

His cheeks darkened, ears flaming red to match.

“Sometimes...it was almost like I could hear you playing it.”

The last part was said so quietly she almost missed it. She felt her face go slack. Who was this guy and what had he done with the normal, cocky Lucas Patterson? The gentleness of his words, the way his eyes were drilling into hers like he could see all the way down to the depths of her soul, had her blinking against the sudden emotion clogging her throat.

“Last night was the first time I ever played it.”

The confession sprung from her lips without second thought. She had to do something, anything to break whatever tension seemed to be thickening between them with each passing second. Luke tilted his head, another warm smile gracing his lips.

“You were even more amazing than I could have ever dreamed. You’re like a human wrecking ball, Julie. It’s insane how talented you are.”

So much for breaking the tension. Julie sucked in a breath, her heart stuttering in her chest. It was only then that she realized how close their bodies had become, each one leaning farther into the other as their conversation went on. There were only inches between them now, Luke’s lyrical voice curling into her ear with a delicious intimacy she couldn’t help but crave. If she got any closer to him their foreheads would touch, their nose would brush, their lips would...

And just like that she was on the ground, her backside stinging from slamming into the hardwood so abruptly. Luke blinked down at her, eyes still swimming with that damnable affection, but also tinged with confusion. In her desperate attempt to bail, she must have leaned too far back, falling off the barstool before she could even realize what would happen. She shook her head to clear the spell Luke had been spinning before looking past him to the clock on the oven.

“We should probably leave for school now unless we want to be late.”

She ignored the breathy way her voice came out, pushing herself to a standing position. Without making eye contact, she wove her way around Luke. He was like a block of ice in his chair, still poised to lean into her completely. She scooped up their half-eaten breakfasts, plopping them loudly into the sink before slipping her arms through her backpack straps. Nowhere left to hide, she turned back towards the brunette boy.

He stared at her for a long moment, the hot frustration in his gaze burning through her and making her want to squirm. For a second, she thought he was going to push it, but then his eyes closed for what felt like an eternity. When they opened again, he seemed resigned. She could detect just a hint of his previous fiery intensity, the rest of it shrouded behind an almost forlorn veil of acceptance.

“If that’s what you want.”

There was a deeper meaning to his words that Julie wasn’t prepared for. Her breathing faltered, the silence between them heavy with the things he was leaving unsaid. She almost gave in. Almost asked him just what, exactly, he wanted right now. But she didn’t need to ask him because she could read it plain on his face. It terrified her. And Julie had become an expert at avoiding things that scared her in this past year. So, instead, she gave him a tight nod and zipped out the front door to wait for him outside.

In the clear sunshine of another beautiful LA day, she was finally able to breathe again. Out here, away from the thick tension of the kitchen, it was easier to tell herself Luke was just being nice. Easier to pretend their little moment inside was just some friendly banter. Easier to ignore the implications of Luke’s serious words and caring tone. She gulped in deep breaths, willing her head and heart to cool down. She heard the click of the door latching shut behind her, turned to see Luke standing there, a small pout on his lips, face entirely unrepentant. Good lord she was in trouble.Then a realization hit. She clung to it, desperately hoping it would get them back on a more neutral page, pull them out of whatever had been simmering between them all morning.

“Where’s your car? I know you didn’t drive over here last night.”

Luke’s face changed immediately, chagrin taking over every feature. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he shoved his hands in the front of his jeans.

“I uh...I only live a few houses away from you...”

Now it was Julie’s turn to gape like a fish. Luke Patterson was her neighbor? Since when?

“My parents...we moved to the neighborhood a couple years ago. I...uhm well...”

His hand rose again to scratch at his neck, and she had never wanted to grab at him more than in this moment. That movement was slowly beginning to drive her crazy. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blurted it out in one garbled sentence.

“Iusedtohidearoundthecornerandlistentoyouandyourmomplayinthestudiopleasedon’thateme.”

Julie was so stunned she nearly tumbled off the top step as she staggered backwards. Only Luke’s quick reflexes saved her from falling flat on her back for the second time that morning. His eyes darted around her face, clearly trying to figure out if she was about to lose it on him or not. Julie struggled to process the info dump she had gotten from Luke in the last couple of days. All of her preconceived notions were slowly being proven wrong and she wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with that. Life was easier when Luke was just another selfish, swaggering upperclassman. How long had she been in his orbit? Years it sounded like. The realization was staggering.

“You...you listened to us play? Why?”

Luke still had his hands wrapped around her wrists. Julie couldn’t find it in her to break the connection. Her voice came out more broken than she intended, memories of sunlit days singing with her mom invading her mind. Luke remembered those days too?

“Haven’t you been listening?”

His voice was strained, his eyes boring into hers like he was trying to telepathically force her to understand. His fingers flexed against her skin, the movement causing a flurry of butterflies to erupt in her stomach.

“You’re a star, Julie Molina. I couldn’t help getting sucked into your orbit.”

Julie felt her eyelids flutter, her chest squeezing like it was going to burst from the rapid inhale/exhale she couldn’t seem to calm. He said her name like a prayer, his lips turning it into something holy and sacred. She was drowning in Luke’s gaze, a riot of emotions swirling around in her brain. Somehow, because he was Luke and apparently he knew her better than she ever expected him to, he could tell that his declaration had gone a little too far. Easing back, he released his hold and rocked away from her just a bit to give her the space she so desperately needed. His eyes were still impossibly soft, bordering on adoration as he watched her come to terms with his bold announcement. Finally, once Julie was pretty sure she had come back down to Earth, he jogged down the front steps.

“We can still drive if you want to, but I think it’s a pretty nice morning for a walk if you’re up for it.”

“Okay.”

It felt like the smallest possible acceptance she could offer him, but the way Luke lit up in response made her want to melt. Head still swimming, she made her way down the steps on shaky baby deer legs. Luke didn’t push, just fell in step with her as easy as pie. Every once in a while, his fingers would brush against her hand, and it took every scrap of will power to keep herself from just reaching out and linking their hands together.

They passed a house bursting with flowers out front. Julie’s eyes caught on an explosion of bright red in the corner of the yard. Dahlias. Her mother’s favorite. It felt like a sign, and another part of Julie’s soul slipped quietly back into place. The next time Luke’s hand knocked against hers she shyly allowed their fingers to tangle. She didn’t need to look to see the smile break out on his face. She could feel the warmth of it filling the air around her like her own personal sun. He squeezed just once. Just enough to acknowledge the move for what it was. She didn’t let go until the school appeared in the distance.

[jeongvision]

pairing. boyfriend! dong sicheng ✗ fem! reader

genre. fluff, humor, airport au, non idol au, established relationship au

warnings. slight cursing, mentions of alcohol, not proofread so expect grammatical mistakes lmao my bad

author’s note. this timestamp has been inspired by a fic called maison des fleurs (jeong jaehyun x oc) written by loviet from asianfanfics!

[ 5:14 AM ] You’re tired, so dead tired. If you weren’t tired before, then you are most definitely exhausted now.

For weeks, you and your boyfriend have been planning on taking a short trip to Greece as a mini getaway way to celebrate the end of your spring semester. You both thought it would be nice to destress after months of restless nights with your eyes glued on both your textbook pages or laptop screen. The moment you both finished your last final, you two booked the next flight out and packed your belongings.

What perfect way to celebrate the end of your hellish semester by spending time with your loved one traveling to a different country?

Unfortunately, life seems to love throwing curve balls at you, because here are you at the airport, sitting on one of those uncomfortable chairs at the terminal gate, three hours past your initial departure time. Weather reports called for harsh winds and rain, making it extremely dangerous for any aircraft to fly in this state due to turbulence. Meteorologists predicted that it will subside within another three hours but even then, it’s not a guarantee that it will stop storming by then.

Just your fucking luck, huh?

You and Sicheng are currently sitting in the terminal gate amongst all other passengers, impatiently groaning as the minutes pass by. You rested your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, the soft padding of his jacket cushioning your cheek. You inhaled in his scent, putting your mind at ease as you wallowed up the lost time you could’ve used to explore other regions of Greece. You two already walked to nearby shops and food stands to kill time but it still gave you ample amount of time to spare. The both of you thought maybe social media or mobile games could assist in your boredoms but their attempts were futile.

You let out a deep sigh. “This sucks.”

“I agree,” Sicheng nodded. He repositions himself in his seat to ease the tension from your neck craning on him, arms draped behind your shoulders as he pulls you in more. “Have anything in mind?”

You scoffed. “Yeah. Get the hell out of here and go to Greece already.”

He chuckled. “Patience, little one.”

“If I had one, then I’d be a doctor.”

“Gotta wait for another eight years to become one, y/n. You still haven’t finished your undergrad yet.” You rolled your eyes and let out a chortle, playfully slapping his arm in response. He laughs again while his arm still remained around your figure. And just like that, you’re both enveloped in silence, eyes constantly checking the clock and the windows for any possible signs of hopping onto the plane as you two scheduled.

Minutes rolled by and you’ve lost count on how many sighs you heard from nearby passengers. Then, you felt your boyfriend clear his throat a little.

“Let’s play a game, hm?”

Confused, you took your head off his shoulder and narrowed your eyes at him. “Huh? A game?” He nods, his hand gently tightening on your arm. “What game are you thinking about?”

A grin appears on his lips. “Two truths and a lie.”

Suddenly, you burst into a fit of giggles. It was one of your favorite games to play with him, given how it was the main reason why you two are together in the first place. You two were sat in a circle with other mutual friends at one college party, also playing two truths and a lie with an addition of alcohol. It was Winwin’s turn when he inadvertently confessed to you tipsy, eyes glazed over at you as you were dressed so beautifully that night.

You nodded towards the latter, “Shoot.”

He pondered in his thoughts, weighing out his possible choices. He hums a little under is breath. “One, I accidentally stepped on Bella’s poop earlier before we left to the airport. Two, I got a 36 on my practical for anatomy. Three, I managed to get Ten to eat a grape last week.”

It doesn’t take you a second for a smile to slowly creep up on your face. “I highly doubt that you could make Ten eat a fruit.”

“What makes you say that?” he challenged.

“He’d rather get a tattoo of Johnny’s face on his asscheeks than eat a slice of apple.”

“Are you saying that I’m too dumb to pass my practical?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you failed it. And same goes for Bella’s poop situation.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Fair enough. Your turn.”

You giggled before pondering in your own thoughts for a moment. “Hm... One, all I ate during finals week were instant noodles and Jollibee. Two, I can tell which eggs have a double yolk inside without cracking it open. Three, if you never confessed to me drunk that night, I would be dating Lucas right now.”

He gawks at you, “What?! So you would’ve never dated me if I never said anything that time?”

Teasingly, you raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“I ain’t calling you a truther.”

You grinned in response. “Nope. Unlike you, he was actually courting me.” You give him a glance over. “Meanwhile, your lazy ass thought that by just staring at me from afar, I would somehow get telekinesis and catch the hint that you liked me.”

He ignores your comment. “I think you give yourself too much credit for calling yourself some kind of egg analyst.”

You slap his shoulder again, earning a chuckle from him. “Do not!”

“Just because you coincidentally cracked an egg with a double yolk inside does not make you an egg expert.”

“You mean, eggs-pert?”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, babe.” He rolled his eyes and you laughed. “Okay, this is getting fun. Let’s keep going! Your turn.”

He takes another moment and relays his choices, a subtle pout on his lips before he grins. “Okay, I think I got one,” he begins. “One, I’ve always had a crush on you since freshman orientation. Two, Yuta actually pushed me to play two truths and a lie that night because you were also playing. Three, I want us to move in together after we graduate.”

You stayed immobile in your seat, eyebrows lifted in shock. Your eyes are wide open, mind completely wiped blank from his words. You nervously laugh, breaking the silence. “Winwin, I don’t think that’s how you play the game.”

He chuckles. “It’s not about the lies you tell, but the truths you tell.”

Your fingers twiddled with one another as you looked away from his gaze, eyes down on your lap. “But still. You’re supposed to say two truths and one lie, not three truths.”

He grins. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t say any lie.”

“Well, then I say the third one is the lie.”

“Where I want us to move in together?”

You look back up. “Yeah.”

“You’re right. In fact...” His face inches closer to yours, his forehead making contact with your own. “... I don’t want us to move in together when we graduate.” He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I want us to get married instead.”

Your eyes widened. “W-What?” He only grins at you. “Si-Sicheng, what—”

“Attention, passengers!” the ground attendant shouted. “Gate 486 is now open for boarding. Please form a line and have your ticket ready for admission.”

Your lover backs away from your presence, grabbing his bag before standing up from his seat. He nods to the terminal gate. “You heard her. Let’s go. Don’t want to miss our flight.”

Oh, but darling, how could you miss your flight when you’re already floating on cloud nine from his words?

[lady-writes]

This is bothering me and I HAAAATE it.

(Eta: this is a rant. I am 100% willing to discuss my rant. I will not do it with ppl on anon though. So if you plan on jumping in my mentions/dms, dont expect anything to come of it unless say it with your chest, so to speak💗)

i just read the phrase "this isnt the supportive Nicky i know and love" like 🤦🏿‍♀️

The "supportive Nicky i know and love" IS A FANDOM CREATION DRIVEN BY THE NEED of primarily white fandom members to have a White Knight character to put all their projections onto. The fact that Nicky is gay was just sprinkles on that

The "supportive Nicky i know and love" does not exist in the text you built him in your mind to be the perfect foil to the other white main (Booker) which is why this "turn" is pissing you off so bad

The "supportive Nicky i know and love" is the most one dimensional reading of a wonderfully complex character who was given all that complexity in the space of about 15 lines and 7 action across aprox 150 pages and 2 hours. Everything else you attribute is wishful thinking and a fucking disservice to the canon

The best of Nicky that we've been given by canon is an impassioned speech from his husband used to make a point about the depth of their 1000yr long romance. Even if we dont see it in every version of canon that speech is immediately followed by both of those men murdering 6-10 armed guards with their hands tied behind their backs.

For a while the prevailing sense in the fandom was "Nicky loves his family but is generally cold" between the fact that at some point in his past he left the church to go kill "infidels" and his comics iteration literally wears the tabard of the knights templar, and his position as the team sniper that characterizaion made sense. And then woobification gave us the frankly boring "Nicky is too pure and good for the world because Joe's speech is 100% true and not biased at all and if Luca says hes the most vulnerable/sensitive of them all then that's as good as canon."

Please bring back sniper Nicky please being back the Nicky who is the MOON to Joe's SUN in thier own little world the use of moon in that speech was never accidental, historically or in characterization. Nicky is written as the less effusive more gruff "dark side" to the NicoJoe pair. Nicky reflects Joe and based on what he came from Nicky is much better for it and he probably knows it.

Hes not the sweet soft one at all, hes the guy who is presumably READY TO BLOW COPLEYS HEAD OPEN on cue should Andy ask for it- the cute little wave and smirk routine softens the reality of the scene, but Nicky wouldn't have his whole ass rifle out and aimed for recon. If Copley had become a liability Nicky would have ended him right the fuck there. In the middle of that crowded ass market and I have 0 doubt he would have been fine

Nicky is the one who shoots 2 men through their heads with one bullets

Nicky is the one who tells the doctor theyll ask Andy to spare him if he releases them and then gives Joe the nod to break the doctors neck

A person can be a good husband, and a stony soldier, and a caring humanitarian, and a ruthless sniper, and an exasperated spouse all at the same time. He doesnt need to be the first one to jump at the do-gooding call.

In fact if Joe is that guy, the one who will drop everything to help anyone, then Nicky NEEDS to be the person who reminds him to chill sometimes and to dance in the moonlight, because one person fighting to cure all the worlds ills at their own expense is going to be destroyed by those efforts, immortal or not.

Support doesnt have to be throwing yourself wholehearted and blindly off cliffs besides the people you love. Support is just as often grabbing them by the belt, putting a wine glass in their hand and telling them to rest for a night.

November 1932 Berlin could very easily be right after the Beer Hall Putsch. Or just before. Who knows what bullshit the two of them may have already dealt with. So yeah Nicky might be fucking annoyed that after all that or with all the tension that's already about to break, Joe can't just let it lie for a night.

Maybe the support Joe needed was a break from trying to dismantle whatever the Nazi's were up to.

Maybe Nicky himself needed the break having lived through waves upon waves of anti Muslim, anti Semitic violence.

Maybe nicky is just too exhausted to give a fuck about a bunch of Nazis existing in the same room as him. After all, they're just the nazis in uniform... there's nothing to say that the majority of the clubs other patrons wouldn't be nazi sympathizers. None of them are wearing convenient armbands.

Maybe Nicky and Joe have some fundamental disagreements about the Best Ways To Do Good and this is part of an argument that's been happening for 800 years.

Maybe Nicky just doesn't give a fuck so long as he can have his date night with his husband in public for the first time in 3-500 years. 1920-30s Germany was a gay safe haven before the nazis took over after all.

Maybe tonight nicky doest give a fuck because he knows hes right and its happening again just like it did before and it will after and hes dealing with some depression as the last decades of his first millenia draw to a close and it seems like nothing has gotten any better.

Maybe nicky doesn't give a fuck because its vacation and if it's not a direct threat to him or Joe he doesn't want to see blood again anytime soon.

Maybe nicky is just a cold ass motherfucker who is damn good at compartmentalizing so he does enough of it for two.

In conclusion Nicolo de Genova can in fact be a feral human very carefully and capably trained via love and frequent doses of helping others. He can simultaneously be the same person who sees a new immortal overwhelmed by the breadth of what lies before her and instinctively offers comfort. After all Joe ( and possibly Andy and Quynh) did the same for him when he came to them an invader and probably no small amount of a sanctimonious bastard.

Let characters be fully human, with devastating flaws and frustrating shortcomings. It makes for better stories and you dont end up flipping out a about writer who had thier work approved by the creator "not getting the character right" when they in all likelihood had more information about that character at their disposal than you will ever know.

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - TEN

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 2.605

Warnings: Guns. Lost brothers. Blood. Death. Shooting. The aftermath of the explosion.

Author’s note: The end. I know it's crap but thanks for reading anyways.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​!

Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Feedback is appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE]

Walter had a grim look on his face. He could see that Melanie was starting to panic. Her face contorted into a look of worry, also her eyes were searching for the big body of her brother underneath all the rubble.

“We’ll find him,” Walter assured her, “Are you hurt?”

Walter helped her sit up on the pavement.

“I’m feeling a little woozy, and my back hurts from colliding with the car. Else I think I’m good,” Melanie answered. Walter made a mental note to keep an eye on her, as she could have a concussion or may be bleeding internally.

“Lucas!” Melanie walked into what used to be the front garden, calling for her brother.

A high pitched tone was ringing in his ears. The blast had knocked Lucas off his feet and onto the nearest solid thing, the neighbouring house. His broken arm was throbbing with pain, while a burn was slowly spreading across his chest. He had tried breaking ribs before, so he wasn’t doubting that he might have cracked a few from the blast.

Lucas opened his eyes and watched burning paper dissipating in the wind. The scorching heat from the fire warmed his face, as he lay there watching the orange and red hues. It was quite beautiful to look at, while it destroyed the childhood home of this triplet brother.

Brother. Sister. MELANIE!

He scrambled to his feet, hissing as the jolting pain thundered through his body. His head was spinning as if he had just gotten off a wild carousel ride. He was feeling nauseous as he tried to move.

“LUCAS!”

It was a distant sound, but he heard his sister’s voice through the loud ringing.

“Mel!” he tried yelling back, but the tone was low. His throat was sore and felt raw like someone had tried scratching the flesh from the inside.

In the distance, he heard a fire truck's siren, but he didn’t care about the fire, he needed to get to his sister. He jumped over the broken fence between the neighbouring houses. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to walk, it hurt to even think, but he had to make sure that Melanie was safe. The adrenaline was pumping in his veins, making him move faster.

“Mel,” he said hoarsely as he saw her crying into his triplet brother’s shirt. They both turned their heads towards him. Melanie released Walter and ran towards her injured brother. He was prepared for the impact, as his sister collided with his cracked ribs, but let out a gasp anyways as she hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Melanie sobbed, “I wouldn’t even know how to tell mom if you had died. And what about dad? What about Josh? And your job?”

“Mel, stop talking. We’re okay,” Lucas shushed her. He hugged her close, even though it hurt, but he didn’t care.

The sirens grew louder, making the raging headache Walter was sporting even worse, but despite that, he moved towards the road and guided the fire truck and fire engine towards the burning building.

Soon the area was swarming with ambulances and police cars. The firefighters contained the towering flames, while medics were attending Lucas, Melanie, and even Walter, who had stubbornly told them that he was fine, was looking into a flashlight.

“Can you remember your name, sir?” the medic asked.

“Walter Matthew Marshall, detective at the Minneapolis PD,” he grumbled.

“Well, detective, you might have a concussion from your head hitting the pavement. You need observation for the next 24 hours.”

“I don’t have time…”

“Detective, it is not up for discussion.”

Walter was groaning the entire way to the hospital. He and Lucas were placed in the same room. Lucas’ injuries weren’t as bad as expected, with only a few broken ribs and a concussion. Melanie had escaped unharmed, except for a few bruises and a high tone ringing in her ears.

The brothers needed observation for the next 24 hours, and with a lot of stubbornness from all three, Melanie was allowed to stay in the room with them for the night.

The police arrived a few hours later to take their statement. If it wasn’t because the situation was quite serious and Walter rarely laughed, he would have been rolling on the floor after seeing the confused faces of the detectives, when they told them that Melanie was the sister of Lucas but not of Walter.

It didn’t take long before Melanie fell asleep on the pull-out bed the hospital had provided. Lucas watched as her chest rose and fell, feeling relieved that she was alive and breathing.

“How are you feeling?” Walter asked from the window. He was watching the people walking in and out of the hospital, as they had a clear view of the main entrance.

“I’m good, sore, and pissed,” Lucas answered, “What do you think happened?”

“My theory is someone planted that bomb to either set it off when we came back or to destroy any evidence that could be found in that house,” Walter mused.

Lucas nodded, having had the same thoughts.

“Do you think he had anything to do with this?” Walter asked after a silent moment, pulling Lucas out of his train of thoughts.

“I don’t know, brother. I have no clue what our brother is capable of. He is a wanted criminal all over the world.”

“Do you think he’s the mastermind behind this?”

“He could very much be, are you having second thoughts?”

Walter turned around and glared at Lucas, who stared back. Their equally blue eyes were sharp and alert.

“No. I just hope we can catch him, get him into a prison that can get the idea of world domination out of his head, and where I can keep an eye on him.”

August walked into his mother’s new house on the outskirts of the city. He had been transported in a cargo ship to get back into the states. His tech associate Marc had been furious at him for leaving the safe house in Thailand, but nothing could stop August, he always got what he wanted.

“Mother!” August’s voice echoed across the mostly empty house. He removed the hood of his jacket, revealing his identical face to Walter and Lucas, with the exception of the moustache.

“Auggie, my son,” he heard her soft voice coming from his left. She looked frail and thin as if she would crumble at any given moment.

“We had a clear agreement that my brothers were not to be harmed,” August growled. His patience was running low as he stared daggers at his adoptive mother.

“They were at the wrong place at the wrong time, my dear,” her voice was calm and as if she was talking to a toddler.

Since the death of her daughter, Amanda had toughened up and had started the hunt for revenge. First, her plan was to kill all of the abusive men in the world. Then her plan expanded as her organisation became bigger. August had stood by her side while she ordered people to be killed. She was merciless and cruel, not the astronomy-loving woman August had grown up with.

“You’re hiding something.”

“For the hundredth time, I am fine. Sign the damn release papers, you cannot hold me here against my will,” Lucas raised his voice at the young resident doctor standing before him. Lucas was a tall man, and from his time in the army had gotten quite muscular, which were straining against the moss-green T-shirt Melanie had helped him in.

“I must advise against it, Mr Syverson,” the resident said firmly, but still, he took a step back.

“It’s Captain Syverson.”

“Your release papers will be ready in 10 minutes, captain.”

The doctor left the room. Walter was standing by the windows, looking down at the people walking. One hooded figure caught his eye, but he blinked and the person was gone.

Two phones rang simultaneously, waking the trio who had all fallen asleep in their respective beds after they’d gotten back from the hospital. Lucas looked at his screen and was immediately wide awake.

“Aiden?” he grumbled.

“I heard about the explosion. How are you?”

“Got out of the hospital this morning. I had to take a nap. Me? Take a nap?”

Lucas heard his friend roar with laughter. He would have laughed at himself if he had the energy for it, but instead devoted said energy to concentrate on why Aiden was calling.

“I’ve found your missing brother,” Aiden’s voice was serious as he explained that August was back in the country. He had avoided getting in through flight but had been caught by a few security cameras at a harbour in Norfolk, two days earlier.

Lucas walked out of his room, needing to tell the others about the news. Walter stood by the windows, stoically listening to whoever was at the other end of his phone call. Melanie was in the kitchenette, pouring coffee into three mugs.

“Thanks, Charlie. Tell Faye that I’ll be home soon,” Walter ended the call. “That was Charlie. Raven got a hit on August’s whereabouts, he’s here.”

“Aiden told me the same thing.”

Walter frowned. His mind racing.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I saw him earlier. He was at the hospital.”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen him before,” Melanie chimed in.

“Call in triplet-intuition or maybe it was the way he was standing. Still as a statue in the middle of a parking lot full of people walking by.”

“We have to go find him,” Lucas said. He fastened his gun to the holster in his belt and covered himself with a black zip-up hoodie.

Just as they’re about to head out, there was a knock on their door. Walter opened with caution, one hand on his gun behind his back.

It was one of the receptionists with a note that had been left for them. She handed Walter the black envelope, he thanked her and closed the door.

“Meet behind the library at midnight.”

“I can only be from August,” Lucas said. He paced around the room, wondering if it was a trap or not.

“Or maybe it’s a trap, you shouldn’t go,” Melanie told the two brothers.

“We have to. If we’re not back before 2 AM, call the police and say where we are.”

“No, I’m going too!”

“Over my dead body! If dad finds out, he’ll have my head. Mel, if this is a trap, someone needs to know where we are and can tell the police or FBI why it happened.”

Melanie sulked but agreed to stay back at the hotel.

Under the cover of a moonless night, the three siblings met for the first time. Lucas and Walter stood with their backs to the closed library, while they watched as their triplet brother walked down the pathway towards them.

August opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sound of heels clicking on the pavement.

“You have always been such a soft boy, August.”

The three brothers saw Amanda Walker coming closer with a raised gun in her hands.

“And your two brothers are a big pain in my ass,” she continued. Before anyone could move, Amanda aimed for Walter, but August’s reflexes were faster and he jumped in front of his brothers.

Everything happened in slow motion. August turned around with a sad smile on his lips beneath the moustache. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body landed on the cold hard ground. Lucas ran towards August, while Walter set off after Amanda.

August whispered something in Lucas’ ear before he took his last breath. Lucas closed the blue eyes of his brother as Walter came back.

“I lost her,” he grunted. He kicked the grovel around him, cursing at the world.

“It’s not your fault, Walt. Come, help me carry him home.”

A year later the two remaining brothers stood side by side looking at the tombstone with their brother’s name on it. Oliver Thompson.

“We found her, brother. It took some time and a lot of travelling, but we found her, and she’s going to be in jail for the rest of her life.”

“And we went to a hypnotist who unlocked our forgotten memories. No clue how she did it, but we remember the good times, the bad times, the sad times when mom and dad…”

“Let’s not become all too sappy, bro. Walter is getting married. She’s a nurse. Wish you could meet her, a feisty one, I think even she could whoop your ass.”

“Lucas has also found a woman. She is a veterinarian with a short fuse, but she makes the sweetest apple pie I’ve ever tasted.”

The brothers kept on babbling about what was happening in their lives, not noticing the hooded figure standing in a grove of trees, listening to everything.

August smiled at his brothers. His moustache had been shaved and he was growing out his curls. Somehow he looked like a beardless Walter, which he had chuckled over as he shaved.

“I’m sorry, brother. I wanted to burn down the world for being such a cruel place, but I know now that no matter how much I make it suffer, it won’t take the hurt away from my heart. Please, take me to the docks. Warehouse 16. Leave me there and don’t look back.”

Those were the words August had whispered to his army brother.

He had realised that he loved the peaceful life of living in a village in Thailand. In the few weeks, he had resided in the faraway hut, he had gathered food and helped the villagers with their farming, even though he didn’t want to help. But a particular black haired woman had insisted on him helping since he had such big muscles.

The world looked different from before with the woman’s help, he saw beauty wherever he went. But when Marc stood at his doorstep, telling him that his mother wanted to see him, he refused, so Marc did the only thing he thought would persuade the moustached man, he held his black-haired beauty at gunpoint.

August promised to go with Marc and made another promise to his new lady that he would be back, which he sealed with a kiss to her soft lips.

She had waited for him to come back, even demanded to know his secrets. If she were to be his wife, she needed to know about all his demons. So he told her. He had been astonished that she hadn’t run away screaming. Instead, she had smacked his cheek and told him that the world was a beautiful place in the eye of the beholder and that he needed glasses.

He couldn’t wait to go back home, to the woman who was waiting for him, who loved him for him, and he hoped he would be back in time to meet his child, the miracle he had created and would protect.

But he had needed closure to see that his brothers were well and happy as he was.

“... And Faye keeps saying that I have to shave off my beard and keep the moustache, so she can see what you looked like. I said no, of course, telling her that she can go harass Lucas instead.”

“She is such a sweet angel, with a devilish charm. I hope to one day have my own kid, who’ll wrap me around their tiny fingers and I’ll be putty in their hands.”

“Well, we hope you’re happy, brother, wherever you are.”

[acreativeme]

Revenge Fail

Victor Tan x Reader 

Trigger Warning: kidnapping, torture, blowtorch, knife, cattle prod, blood.

Y/N patted across the kitchen, wrapped in one of Tan’s sweatshirts, eagerly removing the whistling tea kettle from the stove. She poured the hot water into two separate cups, knowing that her boyfriend would be walking through the front door any minute. His co-worker, Kris, had sent her a text message to warn her that it had been a rough day. She had prepared a nice dinner of Balsamic drizzled salmon on a bed of long grained rice with garlic crusted asparagus. 

She was dropping a couple sugarcubes into her tea when she heard the front door open. 

“Victor?” She called, not turning around.

Silence.

She turned a little, only to gasp and drop her mug. Behind her stood a masked man with a gun aimed at her. “Not Victor.” He charged forward, smacking the butt of his gun against the side of her head. Y/N fell into the stranger’s arms unconscious. 

Tan’s POV

He walked slowly down the hall of his apartment building, not wanting to bring his sour mood into his home. It took him a moment to notice that his apartment door was standing wide open and that there was evidence that it had been forced open. He pulled his gun from the hustler on his hip, holding his breath.

“Y/N?” He called, clearing the living room and entryway. “Baby?” He took a cautious step into the kitchen, noticing the broken cup right away. 

He squatted down to inspect little droplets of blood on the floor. “Fuck.” He gulped, reaching for his phone.He dialed Hondo’s number, tapping his foot impatiently. 

“What’s up, Tan?” Hondo greeted after three rings.

Tan let out a shaky breath. “Y/N’s been kidnapped.” 

Y/N’s POV…

When Y/N came to, she was tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Y/N looked around, realizing that she was trapped in a cinderblock room with what looked like a thick metal door. There is no getting out of this without help, she thought. 

After several minutes alone, Y/N’s kidnapper entered the windowless room-- with his face still covered. He walked around her, slowly running his hand over her throat. 

“Do you know who your boyfriend is?” He whispers in her ear. 

She looked up at, like he was stupid, then glanced down at the gag. Trying to signal that she could not respond due to the gag.

He untied the gag. “There.”

She spit it out, shooting him a dirty look.”Of course, I know who my boyfriend is. Do you?”

The masked man yanked her back by her hair and got in her face. “He is the man that killed my brother.” He shoved her head forward.

The man left the room, but only after he backhanded her. “You hit like a little bitch!” She yelled as he slammed the door shut.

Tan’s POV…

Tan paced the squad room, sick of waiting around for a lead. It had been 6 hours without any call from whomever took his girlfriend. He had contacted Hondo right after he searched the apartment-- wanting to make sure that she hadn’t been hiding anywhere. Hondo had contacted Hicks and the rest of the team, wanting to get the investigation started right away.

“Do you have any idea who could have something against you or Y/N?” Deacon asked from the computer.

Tan growled. “Like I’ve said a thousand times before, no. Y/N is a chef. All the people who’ve got problems with me are either locked up or dead…” He froze, finally realizing his mistake. “There is the brother that I shot in the raid three months ago. He threatened to get revenge… I didn’t think he was serious.

“What’s his name?” Hondo asked, ready to find this asshole.

“Ricky Carson..” 

Y/N’s POV…

The masked man came back an hour later with a duffel bag filled with tools to torture her. He poured water over her and stuck her with a cattle prod, which left burn marks on her skin. After that, he heated a sharp knife with a blowtorch and used it to make slices on her arms. Y/N had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming out. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting her.

“You won’t be able to outlast me, you know. You’ll lose all this fake bravado and cry out like the little bitch that you are.” He hissed, leaning next to her ear.

She smirked. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I can take.” She turned her head and spit in his face.

He sneered at her, grabbing a hold of the blowtorch. “You are going to regret that.”

“Not as much as you are…” Y/N hissed as the metal door blasted open.

“LAPD!! Ricky Carson, put the blowtorch down and step away from her!!” Hondo yelled, with Tan and Luca flanking him.

Ricky wrapped his arm around her throat. “You won’t shoot me with her in the way!”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, “Who said I was going to be in the way?” She head butted him, and used the chair to push him away. Due to still being tied to the chair, by only her arms, she fell over, her head hit the cement floor.

Without hesitating, Hondo shot him. The man fell backwards dead, which caused Tan to release a relieved sigh. He hostlered his gun and ran to her side. He cut her restraints, waiting to pull her into his arms.

“Baby, talk to me.” He whispered, gingerly caressing her head. 

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I am alright.”

Luca let out a soft chuckle, “Girl, you got beat to hell. I wouldn’t classify that as alright.”

She smiled up at him, “I might be a little bloody, but it is not the worst I’ve looked.”

“You are one badass chick, Y/N.”

[babylooneytoonz]

Power Struggle

Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Requested by : @peakyfooky

So unfortunately I clicked on the delete button instead of the edit button and my work just went down the drain. I feel so pissed rn. I'm so sorry, @peakyfooky. Here's the request. Again.

Summary - Being an assassin was all fun and a right handed game until Tommy Shelby fucked up in an important mission and almost got you killed. The only good thing to come out of it was a hinted confession and a heated moment of passion.

Warnings: Cursing, Explicit language, SMUT SMUT SMUT, Sex . Reader's a badass in this one.

The rumours were many. Some said that she was a mythical creature, a story cooked up by mothers to get their children to sleep at nights, while some felt that she was a woman long dead. They said that she walked through the streets of London at nights, shielded by the darkness, hidden from the human eye. They even said that she had a scarred face, and a story to tell, probably why she didn't show herself during daytime. She was looking for the man that had done this to her, scarred her face and once she found him, she would be gone.

The rumours appalled you but at the same time, they made you feel powerful. You were nothing they had described you as. You were beautiful, your face that of an angel, if one would look at it, they wouldn't suspect a thing.

You were not some creature from the storybooks, neither were you someone alien to this country. You considered yourself a businesswoman, and your business was killing people. Killing your targets. Being an assassin, a female assassin, and being a pretty good one, you were the topic of talks among people and a pretty frequent household name for the gangs, having been frequenting them, and doing their petty calling for years now. And they made sure your identity was kept hidden and you were paid handsomely.

And this is how you knew Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. You wouldn't lie to yourself, his summons were the ones that intrigued you the most. They were uncanny, came for you on those you had least expected them.

After a long night at the pub next door, you stumbled into your first floor shabby apartment, a good disguise for a woman like you who earned a lot for every target eliminated. Your keys rattled into the keyhole and the door flung open, the familiar scent of your perfume, mixed with whiskey and cigarette smoke filling up your nostrils as you stepped inside and flung your heels off.

That's when you saw it. A card with a gold plated border stood on your bedside table, waiting for you to read it. You often wondered how Tommy managed to do it, sneak into your apartment to get you these notes but you didn't ask. It was Thomas Fuckin' Shelby and he had ways that you had probably never imagined of. To anyone who would see these notes, they would mistake these from a despaired lover, wanting to meet you again.

You flicked it roughly into your palm, turning it around as you read through it.

Meet me by the distillery when the moon's directly above us.

- T.S

He talked in riddles, riddles that no normal person would bother trying to solve but you knew his riddles by the back of your hand. Your eyes flew to the grandfather clock and you rushed out to your window, trying to look at the black starless sky, overcome with black humungous clouds with no moon in sight.You waited for a few minutes, waiting for the moon to show itself and when it finally showed you a peek, you knew Thomas would have seen it too. You grabbed your purse, flinging it across your shoulder and walked out of your apartment, making your way towards the distillery by the end of the street.

By the time you set foot there, you craned your neck upwards, trying to look at the moon that was now shining down on you and you knew it would be minutes before Thomas Shelby showed himself. Years for working for this man, he still hadn't learnt a thing about punctuality. Just then, a twig snapped behind you, causing you to slowly turn towards the approaching figure with a smug look on your face, "I am a busy woman, Shelby. I cannot always be here at your whims and fancies."

Under the pale moonlight, you saw his lips twitch, his hand mechanically moving up to his lips, his cigarette plucked between his lips as he inhaled the smoke that coiled around him.

"I hope you have something good for me. Something better than the man you gave me the last time. That took fucking two minutes. This better be worth my time."

Tommy took a step closer, the cigarette butt dropping from his hand as he stepped on it. Now you could see him clearly, his handsome features and his chiseled jaw struck out.

"Luca Changretta."

Two words were spoken and the smirk on your face went up your ears.

"I hope the pay's good."

"I'll triple it once you get me the news he's fuckin' gone." Tommy's ice like voice reached your ears and you just smacked your lips together, crossing your arms over your chest.

"So, when are we fuckin' doing this?"

-

Pretending to be a whore was easy. All you had to do was wear a skimpy dress, show a little cleavage, put on red lipstick and there you go, you were ready. Once you were ready, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The woman that looked back at you was someone you hardly recognised, but maybe that was what you always wanted.

Taking a deep breath, you finally pushed yourself out of the shabby bathroom at the back of the pub, your heels clicking against the pavement as you strutted towards the noisy entrance. You could hear loud chatters and occasional bangs, banging of fists, and even breaking of glasses and you rolled your eyes, cringing at the state of disorientation most of these men were in.

You placed your hand on the door, pushing it open as you stepped in, smacking your lips together. Your eyes scanned through the men, some of them now looking at you with hunger in their eyes. "Who the hell ordered a whore, ay?! Send her over once you are done mate!" You heard someone yell.

If you had to do this without testing your patience any further, you needed a drink. You went up straight to the bar, slamming your fist angrily against it to get the bartender's attention. His head snapped towards you, his mouth slightly falling, his eyes involuntarily moving and resting on your chest for a bit.

"Whiskey." You said, dryly. "And stop fuckin' staring at my chest."

The bartender cleared his throat, a red tint taking over his cheeks, flustered at being accused so pointedly. You saw him nod and rush into the backroom. You took this moment to look around, trying to spot the man you were looking for. This is where Thomas Shelby had told you he would be.

The bartender emerged with your drink in his hand, placing it on the counter in front of you. Your fingers curled around it, your hand flying to your lips, your ruby tainted lips pressing against the glass as the liquid gushed through your throat. Without wasting any more time, placing the glass back down, you leaned forward, watching the bartender in front of you struggle to keep his wandering eyes from taking a sneak peak at your cleavage. You placed your elbows on the counter to support you, looking at him.

"Where's Luca Changretta?"

The bartender looked at you, his eyebrow shooting up.

"Oh, you are Mr. Changretta's, ah, guest. The first door on the left." You nodded coyly, your fingers curling around the glass, your eyes fixed at the bartender as you watched him uncomfortably move away, scrubbing the counter on the other side. You brought up the glass and downed the entire contents of it, almost slamming the glass back down.

Following the bartender's instructions, you found your way to the first door on the left. It was a mahogany door, shut, but you could hear muffled shouting coming from the inside. Not bothering to knock, you flung the door open, barging your way in, your heels clicking against the floor.

Luca was sitting on a couch, his legs propped up against the coffee table, his drink in his hand as he was probably in the middle of an argument with one of his henchmen.

"Do you really not know how to knock?" Luca didn't move, only his lips did, as he eyed you his gaze, dwindling from distaste to full of lust.

"Not really, Mr. Changretta. You see, I just did my nails. Trust me, these things do take a lot of my time, that and making sure men don't leave disappointed." Your smirk reached your eye as your hand fumbled against your box of cigarettes, pulling a stick out of it and flinging it to your lips.

You heard Luca mutter a get the fuck out under his breath and the henchman rushed off, leaving you alone with the man. He slowly stood up, taking a sip of his drink, twirling his whiskey glass in his hand as he made his way up to you, looking at you from head to toe. "I didn't ask for a whore, now did I? Not that I remember. Who sent you?"

"No one asks for me, Mr. Changretta, I just flow with the wind. I just know who might have a need for me without actually him coming to me first. I see power, immense power and that's where I go. No one sends me." You took a step closer, lifting your palm and placing it on Luca's arm, using your pointed nail to move your index finger downwards, causing him to grit his teeth as your nail tore through his suit, almost scraping through his flesh. "Sorry about the suit. Where did you get these made?"

"Fenacci, Italian. He's my uncle."

"Well he must be a talented man." You cooed.

A sadistic snicker escaped his lips, causing you to give him a fake smile, although you knew how disgruntled you felt. The things money made people do.

"Now Mr. Changretta– "

"Call me Luca." He cut you off, his hand finally fixing on your hip, his fingers stroking your flesh over your satin dress.

"Luca, what would you like me to do to please you?" You pushed yourself away from him, watching his face flash a look of annoyance, his fingers twitching when it lost contact with you. Slowly, you took off your dress, only to reveal the soft, almost sheer negligee that you were wearing underneath it, exposing your legs and every bit of your skin. You saw him give you a quick do over his eyes flashing with his desire for you and this caused your lips to involuntarily curl into a smirk. You took a step towards him, placing your palm on his chest and using force to push him back against the couch, taking him by surprise.

"You are a man of substance, Mr. Changretta. I love it."

You placed yourself slowly over his lap, letting him wrap his arm around your waist, a low, throaty growl almost leaving his lips. As you moved on to straddle him, his fingers moved all over your arms, trying to feel the softness of your skin.

Taking that second of distraction in your stride, your hand flew up to the pin that held your hair, the pin of poison as you called it, and you pulled it out, your hair now falling loosely over your almost bare shoulders. Clutching the pin in your hand, you were ready to push the pin into the side of his neck, ready to end it once and for all but before you could do that, he grabbed you by your shoulder, pushing you away with such force, you fell back, crashing against the coffee table and fell to the floor.

"I least expected Mr. Shelby to be sending in assassins dressed as whores. Turns out Miss Gray was right. He did send you to kill me."

Your rage filled eyes met his, your finger still clutching the pin, while his fingers slid into his suit pocket and he pulled out his gun, ready to aim it at you. You gave him a smile, not dropping his gaze for a second. There was no way you would let him have you fail. You had never failed before. Fucking Polly Gray. You didn't understand how Luca Changretta already knew what Thomas Shelby's plan was.

You would have pondered more, had your eyes not noted how his finger moved to the trigger, ready to squeeze it. The moment passed by in a blur of a second, you adeptly caught his wrist at the right time, causing his aim to falter but the bullet shot of the barrel before the gun fell off his hand, slicing into your arm and lodging inside. You hissed in pain, your arm slowly turning red as droplets of your blood rolled down and fell to the floor, drop by drop. "Fucking hell," You cursed, your palm flying to the hole in your arm, feeling the warm gush of your blood, your wound throbbing under your touch while at the same time, you used your foot to kick the gun that had fallen out of Changretta's hand under the cabinet.

"Who the fuck are you, woman? You're no whore, that I'm sure of. I wonder how much that bastard paid you to do his dirty work. I'm ready to pay you triple– " He grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up to your feet which was a pretty bad move at his end. This was where you shot out your foot towards him suddenly, causing him to stumble and fall backwards. You let out a loud shriek, pulling yourself on top of him, straddling his waist, your palms coming to rest on his throat as you started squeezing it.

"I'm your death, motherfucker."

Luca Changretta started coughing, his eyes bobbing out as he tried to get your hands off his throat, but you just kept squeezing harder, pushing down at him with all the weight in your body. You were smiling now, watching life drain out of this man so easily, the throbbing in your wounded arm completely forgotten. You had gotten so used to seeing their faces when you killed them, it really didn't matter when they came back to haunt you at nights.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp prick at the side of your neck, the sudden impact of which caused you to loosen your grip on Changretta. Clutching your neck, you fell to your side, your eyes falling on your poisoned pin that was in Changretta's hand. Your chest heaving up and down, your heart raced so bad, you felt it was going to stop. Pain spread through your body, slowly, like a snake coiling at your insides as you started coughing out foam, your vision blurring.

"You can never be the death of me, bitch."

The last thing you saw before you shut your eyes was the door flinging open and the blue eyed gang leader rushed in, with a few men on his tail. You heard the sound of gunshots and screams but it all went black.

-

Your head hurt and so did every crevice in your body, as though someone had run a truck over you. It felt like you had been asleep for ages. The room smelled like a hospital room. After what felt like eternity, your eyes fluttered open. Even moving your eyes around took most of your energy. The room was warm and so were the covers that covered your body. Slowly, you started regaining shards of memory of what had happened that day. You had failed, for the first time ever. But worse than that, you wanted to bash Thomas Shelby's skull, for betraying you, for telling Polly Gray. He was responsible for your failure.

You winced as you sat up, your eyes flying to your bandaged arm. If the humiliation of failing that one thing you were good at wasn't enough, you had been shot and fucking poisoned.

You slid against the edge of the bed, your feet finding the floor as you hoisted yourself up, your legs almost wobbling at your first attempt. Five minutes later, you were walking down the hallway of what you guessed was the Arrowe House screaming like a mad woman, “Thomas! THOMAS SHELBY! FOR FUCK'S SAKE–"

Just then, the door to your right opened, and someone grabbed your wrist, pulling you inside and the door slammed shut behind you.

"My son's fuckin' asleep in the next room. Can you stop shouting at the top of your lungs? And who the fuck asked you to strut around the house when you are in no condition to get out of bed?"

You looked at the man in front of you and you wanted to gage his eyeballs out. Suppressing the urge to scream at him, you just pushed him away and weakly made your way up to his desk, grabbing his box of cigarettes.

"How the fuck am I even alive? Thanks to you, Changretta had stabbed me with my own poison needle. How the fuck did Polly even find out about the whole plan?" You struggled to light a match, a cigarette now pressed to your lips. Thomas snatched the matchbox from your hand, lighting a match for you and bringing it close to your face.

"Will you just sit down first." He motioned for you to take a seat. Wordlessly, you lowered yourself on it, your eyes trained on him, waiting for him to speak.

"I might have mistakenly said some things to her. I know, I'm sorry –"

You were not having it. You stood up, your fists clenched by your sides as you stormed towards him, almost pushing him angrily.

"You almost got me killed Tommy. You knew my fucking rules. No one except us should have known." He grabbed you by your arm in an effort to catch you if you fell but you just pushed his hands away.

"For fucks sake, will you stop with the dramatics, it was a drunken mistake. Polly came to me and she confessed to having told Changretta about you. That's when I gathered the boys and –"

You shook your head in disgust and cut him off, as your hand mechanically flew up to your lips and you took a drag of your cigarette, spitting out your words, "You wanted to be a fuckin' hero, did you not? You broke our deal, Tom. And then you save my life like this."

You didn't realise how the word Tom had so effortlessly slipped out of your mouth until you felt his lips suddenly press against yours, your eyes widening in shock at the suddenness of it, an electrifying feeling filling you up.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, licking your lips inadvertently when he pulled back.

"You don't fucking shut up, do you?"

"How dare you –" You didn't complete your sentence. Instead, you pushed Tommy to the wall, your hands tugging at his waistcoat to take it off as your lips hungrily devoured his plump ones. When you finally broke the kiss, you didn't look at Tommy like you did before. There was something different about him, something that made you want to explore. Your fingers tore through the buttons of his shirt, until he was standing bare chested in front of you, his lips slightly parted, his chest heaving up and down, his hand resting on your waist as he looked down at you, his eyes thick with desire.

"What was that for?"

"For almost getting me killed and then saving my life." You muttered, sarcastically and he just scoffed.

"I couldn't have left you to die." He deadpanned.

"Oh, and why's that?"

You bit your lip, slowly looking up at him when it hit you. "Don't answer that. Please don't. I can't take it right now."

"You're so –"

"Get your fuckin' pants off."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

It was as though your mind had exploded. All you saw was fire around you, the fire that could only be vanquished by him. Impatiently, you strode up to him, unbuttoning his pants while he just kept staring at you, his mouth almost open. You slid your palm through the waistband of his pants, stroking over his already hardened manhood, watching him as his eyes clenched shut and a low moan escaped those lips.

What you felt right now could only be expressed as sheer torment. You were emotionally drained and physically broken, and the only thing that could calm you down or make it even worse was what you were about to do. And you weren't going to waste any fucking time.

Thomas Shelby didn't realise what hit him. The next minute, he was sprawled over his desk, his pants lowered at his ankles, with you now straddling his waist, your eyes looking down at him. You wouldn't deny, he really looked beautiful under you. And you were sure, he was liking you on top of him.

It was a Power Struggle. But you always won. Atleast with Thomas Shelby.

"You are infuriating." You hissed, as you started rolling your hips against his erect cock, only the fabric of your underwear barring you from taking him in. The aching pain in your core was frustrating, getting even worse with each stroke of your core against the mountain pressed up against it.

"And you're a fucking tease," He moaned under you, licking his lips as he tried to adjust his hips to feel your warmth better.

"Stop. Don't fucking move until I say you do. We do this my way." You slapped his chest lightly, only to get a frustrated growl from him. A part of you wanted to tease Thomas Shelby to the point he was squirming, but the other part of you wanted to satiate the burning inside of you.

"I'm so fucking angry at you, Shelby, but good thing I know how to calm myself down in the most unholy ways." You lifted yourself up, Tommy's adept fingers worked to get your panties off you and once you had gotten yourself free from it, you took a deep breath, looking down at him before you went down on him. Using your hand to guide his cock, you slowly mounted yourself into him, feeling his thickness fill you up, a symphony of curses and grunts escaping both your lips as he filled you up.

Once you had adjusted to him, your slickness made it easier for you to build a firm pace, your hands using his chest to hold yourself on top of him, his hands holding you from your waist for support. Your body trembled and your mouth spilt vulgar curses as you slowly built up your pace, bouncing up and down his length, the study filling up with the sounds of your wetness of your core and flapping of your skin against his. His hands left your waist, moving up until he was squeezing your breasts, his fingers toying with your nipples, enhancing the pleasure you were feeling.

"Is that all you got?" Tommy moaned and this caused you to throw your head back and let out a dry laugh, only to end in a moan again as you felt pleasure built inside you, ready to burst any time now. By the looks of it, you could see that Tommy was close too, but he wouldn't give you the pleasure of knowing how good you were at this.

"Keep up with me." You swatted him again, deliberately slowing your pace, knowing how close you both were to your climaxes. He only slapped your arse in retaliation, budging you to keep up the pace.

"(Y/N)" Tommy grunted your name in pleasure, his fingernails digging into your hips.

"Say it again, love."

"Fuck." Tommy cursed, his breathing hitching as you continued bouncing on his swollen cock. Your hands found your way to his neck, your palms wrapping around as you started choking him, not hard enough for him to not breathe but hard enough for him to look up at you, his eyes burning with pleasure.

"Say it again, darling."

"(Y/N), fuck." He groaned. As if this was the push that was needed, you let out a whimper mixed with a moan, as you rode him to his own climax as well as your own, his nails digging into your flesh, panting into his sturdy chest.

You rolled off him and collapsed on the desk next to him, staring at the ceiling of his study, your chest heaving up and down, the smell of sex and cigarettes now filling up your nostrils.

"Please don't fuck up the next time, Shelby."

You felt his lips press against the skin on your bare shoulder in a kiss, followed by a hum as he pushed himself up from the desk, "That fuckin' poison pin. I had thought I lost you. You were lucky the doctor drained out the poison. If being an assassin is what you want to do, then we do this my way, not yours." He reached out, pulling up his pants and grabbed a spare tee shirt from one of the drawers of his study, pulling it over his head, looking at you once before he stormed out of his study.

(GIF is not mine, found it on Google. Let me know if it's yours and I will credit you.)

[peaceoutofthepieces]

chapter 30

The Stars Look Very Different

Social Media AU

previous chapter

tag list: @yellowballoon @cleocc @ijzermanora @boldlydeepestcupcake @pduwd @notallthereyall @gingerhead007 @groeneweiden @nyttvera @painfully-oblivious @zoenneforever @curiouskopf @engelkeijsers @xiaomailab @honeyandsinn @lauren-bk @saraben00 @tailsbeth @boysrunaway @howlingsaturn @menamesniall

I only decided to do this this morning and that’s why it’s so late. super sorry. I hope you still like it ❤️ and as always, sorry for any mistakes

Warning: discussion of mental illness

~^~

Robbe pulled Sander after him, away from where Jens and Lucas were still curled up on the sofa, into his bedroom where he could shut the door tight behind them. He almost expected Sander to flop right onto his bed, but instead he stayed right behind Robbe, ready to bring him closer once he turned, shifting a hand into his hair and connecting their lips.

Robbe made a small sound in his throat and then sighed, gripping at Sander’s waist to pull him closer, even though the other boy had already done well at eliminating the space between them. Still, the kiss was kept soft, free of their usual urgency but with a familiar neediness, the constant desire to be ever closer. This was evident when Sander pulled away only to press his forehead against Robbe’s, eyes shut and hand still firm on the back of his neck, not letting him pull away. Robbe wouldn’t have even if Sander wasn’t holding him. He had no reason to want to be anywhere else.

“Your bed looks very appealing,” Sander mumbled, lips brushing against Robbe’s.

Robbe hummed. “You also look very appealing. I think a combination of the two would be truly mind blowing.”

Sander huffed, and Robbe just had time to trace a fingertip over his smile before he leaned back in for another kiss. Robbe gladly reciprocated, but moved his hands to slide under the edges of Sander’s zip-up hoodie, pushing it off his shoulders and tossing it onto the end of his bed. Then he gave the same shoulders a careful push, and Sander let himself be guided backwards, finally falling onto the mattress with a pleased sigh. He held his arms out immediately, however, making grabby hands towards Robbe, who complied without an ounce of hesitance, crawling over Sander and settling on his hips. He cupped his face and squished his cheeks, making Sander laugh through puckered lips that Robbe eventually leaned down to kiss.

“This is why it’s better being at yours,” Sander mumbled, and Robbe couldn’t argue. He ducked his head down to trace kisses along Sander’s jawline, peppering his cheek, the spot behind his ear, further down his neck. Sander melted further with every press of his lips, sinking lax into the bed underneath him. It left Robbe grinning against his skin, nipping at it lightly with his teeth to make Sander whine and squirm away.

Sander huffed as he pushed Robbe off him, only to follow him onto their sides and pull him back in by the waist. Robbe giggled and slid his hands back over his cheeks as he kissed him again.

“Wait, do that again.” Sander drew his head away, gazing at Robbe in something a little too much like awe, making him turn his face into the pillow and groan.

“Do what?”

“That little giggle.”

Robbe groaned again. “Oh my god.”

“Please, Robbe, it’s so cute. What do I have to do?”

“Leave me alone, preferably.”

Sander pouted, shaking his head rapidly at Robbe’s denial, squeezing his sides pleadingly. It had the unintended effect of making Robbe wriggle, an aborted laugh escaping him.

They both froze.

“Oh my god—“

“No,” Robbe warned.

“—you’re ticklish,” Sander finished, and now that was definitely awe. “Oh my god. Why did I not know that?”

“I am not ticklish.”

Sander rose a disbelieving brow. His fingers twitched against Robbe’s side. Robbe’s hand flew down to still them.

Sander snorted and kissed his nose, tugging him in closer and slotting a leg between Robbe’s. “Too cute.”

“You’re so annoying,” Robbe breathed, in the instant before Sander’s lips connected with his and all words were lost. He couldn’t help but make this kiss deeper, threading his fingers into Sander’s hair and parting his lips. The faint ache in his head had all but slipped away, soothed under Sander’s gentle touch.

Sander himself was a little more lethargic than usual, but no less responsive. He reacted easily to Robbe, lips parting and tongues tangling and hands drifting. Robbe had to keep his grin under control as Sander’s hands slipped under his shirt, skimming over his sides to settle against his back, tracing light patterns. Robbe hummed against his lips and felt him smile, and then Sander brushed over a faint scar.

Robbe’s heart skipped, but Sander’s movements hadn’t stopped, so Robbe kissed him harder and hoped that would be enough. Instead Sander’s hand trailed back over his side, around to his front, and landed on another old mark.

“You really like getting yourself into trouble, huh,” Sander said, and Robbe lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He didn’t want to discuss this.

Instead, he thought of a new tactic, and lifted himself up before pulling his shirt over his head. He rose a brow as Sander gazed up at him, unflinching, nothing giving him away but the slight uptick of his lips. It didn’t take long for him to reach out, sliding his hands back over Robbe’s skin as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. However, instead of drawing him into another kiss, Sander leaned forward and pressed his lips to Robbe’s collarbone, where another scar rested over the bone.

He looked up at Robbe through his lashes, and Robbe smiled at him and gave his hair a light tug. “And you call me the cute one,” Robbe mumbled.

Sander smiled brightly as Robbe traced a finger down his cheek and kissed his forehead. He remained silent as Robbe dropped back onto his pillow with a sigh. Sander followed, rolling onto his side to face him and waiting patiently.

“You remember how I told you about...why I’m staying here?”

Sander nodded, expression gentle. “About your mom?”

“Yeah. I didn’t really explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Sander said softly.

Robbe offered him a smile. “I don’t, usually. It’s not really something I talk about. But I want to tell you.”

Sander’s nod was encouraging.

“She, uh. She suffers from psychotic depression.”

He waited, but nothing in Sander’s expression changed, so he went on.

“She’s always managed it okay. Even when she’d have her episodes of psychosis—she was brought out of them pretty easily. Then when I was thirteen, her mother died. She didn’t take it well. Her episodes got worse. But it was still something we managed, still something she had control of. Then I turned fifteen, and my dad decided he’d had enough. He packed up and disappeared. A few weeks later she was admitted for the first time.”

Sander gently took his hand where it lay between them, rubbing his thumb over the back of his fingers.

“I had to stay with Jens for a week. I’ve had to a lot of times since then. But I never wanted to—to actually leave her. We managed. She was only ever gone for a week or so at most, and it really wasn’t that frequent. Then this past year...it wasn’t so good. She’d space out more often. Talk to herself and then act like nothing happened. She was admitted again just days after I met you and they haven’t been able to release her since.”

“Fuck, Robbe,” Sander muttered.

Robbe shook his head. “When I went to see her—the time I told you about it—it was bad, Sander. They called me because they’d had to sedate her. She was convinced she was being held prisoner, that someone was coming to her. To hurt her. She knocked down one of the nurses. But when I went to see her—“ Robbe paused, choked, “—she didn’t know who I was. She just looked right through me. It was like she couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me. She acted like I wasn’t even there. That’s never happened before. They called me because—because I’m the only one who’s always been able to calm her down. But she couldn’t even remember me. I meant nothing to her.”

Sander shook his head, ready to protest, but Robbe went on before he could.

“That’s why I drank so much and why I—why I just needed you there. I just felt so...so alone and so stupid and so insignificant. And I knew I’d stop feeling like that if I had you. I never feel like that when I’m with you.”

He looked between Sander’s eyes intently, begging him to understand, and Sander shifted forward and wrapped him up in his arms. Robbe sunk against him, tucking his arms around his waist as Sander kissed his cheek and then tucked his chin over his shoulder. He ran his hands soothingly up and down Robbe’s back, and Robbe was horrified to realise his cheeks were wet. But Sander hadn’t said anything, and he still wasn’t. He simply held Robbe together until he stopped feeling like he was about to crack apart, and Robbe clung to his shirt and allowed his comfort to seep through him.

“I’m sorry, Robbe,” Sander whispered against his neck. “I had no idea.”

Robbe pressed his face to his shoulder and shook his head. “There was no way you could have.”

“I could have been here more.”

“Sander, if you were here anymore, your parents would start to think you’d been kidnapped.”

Sander didn’t react the way he’d expected to the joke. He barely reacted at all. He just tightened his grip on Robbe and said, “You shouldn’t have had to deal with all that.”

Robbe shifted away, onto his back, as he shook his head. “She’s my mama, and I love her. Sometimes the worry just takes over. It’s just—the first thing they did was tell us all these ways it could get worse. Like she had more chance of developing further psychotic problems, or that it could develop into bipolar disorder. I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. It just gets too much.”

He rubbed a hand over his face, harsh, as Sander remained quiet. When he looked over, Sander wasn’t looking back. He’d dropped his gaze to a spot on the sheets, even as he continued to stroke absentmindedly over Robbe’s hand.

Robbe smiled self-deprecatingly. “What a way to kill the mood, huh?”

Sander looked up at that, and there was something equal parts fierce and haunted in his gaze as he stared at Robbe. He moved his other hand up to stroke over Robbe’s cheek, then leaned forward to kiss him deeply. Robbe couldn’t even feel surprise, too relieved as he kissed back, allowing Sander’s intensity to encase him and remind him there was nothing unsure about this.

He pulled back and looked at Robbe seriously as he wiped the remaining dampness from his cheeks. “Thank you for being honest with me, Robbe.”

Robbe smiled, sneaking a short kiss to his nose. “Thank you for listening to me.” They lay and watched each other for a moment, and then Robbe chanced a lazy smirk. “I suppose it’s too much to pick up where we left off?”

Sander smiled again, and this time it was tired. “I don’t think this hangover is going to appreciate much more action, to be honest.”

Robbe snorted and gave his hand a tug, laying flat on his back again and drawing Sander with him.

Sander lay his head on his chest and dropped a kiss over his heart, hugging him tightly around the waist. “I just wanna stay here with you for a little while longer.”

The words were no more than a whisper, and Robbe held him tighter and dropped a kiss on his head as a weight slipped from his shoulders. “You can stay as long as you like.”

[sincerelyella]

The Royal Treatment Chapter 1 - One In A Million

Books: The Royal Romance and Open Heart (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella); Bryce x F!OC (Aera)

Series Summary: Upon finishing their medical degrees at Stanford University, Ella, Aera, and Bryce take on an international medical residency training program in Cordonia, landing them a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that will put them to test in the name of romance, friendship, and career.

A/N: Thank you @ofpixelsandscribbles​ for being patient with me and editing the crap out of this!

Please note that our story is not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome and much appreciated.

Warnings: not much really, maybe adult language?

Words: 2112

Bryce, Aera, and Ella were already two weeks into their residency programs. Bryce in the surgical department, Aera in anesthesia, and Ella in the new pediatric cardiology unit.

Since Bryce and Aera’s specialties worked together closely, the pair of them spent more time together during the day. Every night, however, Ella has to hear about how Bryce stole Aera’s lunch or how Aera was so irritated with Bryce’s antics. All Ella could do is suggest that they confess their feelings.

“El, you know I can’t do that,” Aera sighed as the best friends sat and watched How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days in Ella’s room, while wearing yogurt-scented Korean facial sheet masks as part of their night skin regimen care.

“Why not?” Ella pointed the remote at the TV and paused the movie. “Just tell him how you feel. Who knows, maybe he’ll feel the same!”

“That’s just it, he doesn’t feel the same,” Aera carefully adjusted her mask to the center of her face, making sure that her eyes and nose were fitted perfectly on their designated holes.

Ella bit her lip, hard. Keeping this secret from her friend was killing her, but she made a promise … to her other friend. “You don’t know that, A.”

“Can we just … forget this conversation?” Aera dropped her hands on the pillow on her lap and sniffled. “Please? I just want to enjoy this movie with you and pass out with my hand in the popcorn bowl, like I usually do.”

“Fine,” Ella unpaused the movie and the pair sat in silence for a few moments. After what seemed like 20 minutes, the girls removed the sheet masks off their faces, letting the cold serum linger on their faces for a bit.

“Are you ready for your interview tomorrow? You have that one patient right?” Aera asked as she gently tapped two fingers over her moist face for better absorption of the serum.

“Yeah, I’m ready. The little guy had heart surgery and he’s doing amazing,” While mirroring Aera’s facial care technique, Ella smiled widely as she remembered how her patient, a little five year old boy named Thomas, wrapped his arms around her neck in gratitude.

**

The next day

Dr. Katherine Richey was Ella’s attending and she was an older woman who was, according to Ella, a badass. Dr. Richey was world renowned, but chose Cordonia because this was the country of her birth.

“Okay, Dr. Brooks, when we go in there, we’ll go over the history, the procedure Thomas had done, and your plan.”

Ella nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“You’ll be great, Ella,” Katherine squeezed the younger woman’s shoulder. “Nervous?”

“A little bit, but it’s just you, me, Ana de Luca and his parents, so I’ll be fine.”

“Oh,” Katherine’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you, Ella.”

“Tell me what?”

“Prince Liam moved to start this cardiology unit since he had heart surgery himself as a newborn,” Katherine smiled brightly. “He will be visiting us today and meeting all the patients and their parents.”

“He … Prince … what?!” Ella’s heart began to flutter in her chest. All she could picture was the beautiful blue eyes staring back at her on that magazine. “I …”

“Ella, he’s here, let’s go!”

Oh fuck.

In a daze, Ella followed Dr. Richey to the  nurse’s station where a small group had already gathered.

Ana De Luca turned towards Ella and Katherine with a large smile. “Ah, Dr. Richey, how lovely to see you again.”

“Ana, how are you?”

Katherine and Ana shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

“This is my new cardiology resident, Dr. Ella Brooks.”

“A pleasure,” Ella shook Ana’s hand.

“Dr. Brooks, are you new to Cordonia?”

“I am, yes,” Ella squeaked, and gulped when she saw the same man that she ogled on the cover of Trend magazine walk up behind Ana.

“Prince Liam! This is Dr. Richey and Dr. Brooks.”

Dr. Richey and Ana curtsied while Ella stood frozen,  still shocked.

Katherine nudged Ella with her elbow.

“Ow!” Ella rubbed her side in annoyance, then realized everyone was staring at her. Shit. “Oh, I mean, how nice to meet you, Your Highness,” she dipped into a small curtsy and saw that the prince had a huge, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Brooks,” Liam couldn’t stop smiling at this beautiful woman who looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. Her cheeks were flushed and she kept her hands clasped together in a tight fist in front of her.

No matter how much Ella wanted to stare at the ground in pure awkwardness, she kept her light brown eyes connected to his baby blue ones.

“Alright,” Dr. Richey announced, interrupting the awkward silence. “Let’s go, we’ll be in room 342.”

Ana nodded and gestured behind her. “Isaac is my cameraman and photographer, he’s just going to get some candid photos for the magazine and news broadcast for tonight.”

The group walked towards the patient’s room, Ella and Katherine led the way. A soft knock on the door by Ella was met with an excited squeal from inside.

The room was filled with balloons, a stuffed lion at the foot of a bed, a large stuffed bear that sat in the corner of the room and it was almost as tall as the ceiling. Thomas’ bed had Star Wars sheets and he had a stuffed Wookie sitting next to him. “Dr. Brooks!”

“Hi, Thomas,” all the nervousness Ella felt earlier dissipated as soon as this sweet boy shrieked her name. “I have a couple friends I’d like you to meet.”

“Hi everybody!” Thomas waved both his hands at his visitors. “I have new sheets! Mom got them for me. Feel how soft they are!”

Liam chuckled and leaned forward to feel the little boy’s bed spread. “That is really soft, Thomas. I’m-”

Thomas’ eyes widened. “You’re the prince!” He grabbed his stuffed lion and held it up towards Liam. “Look! My dad got me this stuffed lion like yours!”

As the two talked about lions and Star Wars, Ella and Katherine spoke with Ana, Thomas’ mom Elizabeth, and his dad Richard.

“We signed all the forms earlier,” Richard explained to Ana. “Our boy is a miracle and his story should be told.”

“Tell me, how did you find out about his condition?” Ana asked as she wrote some notes in her notebook.

“He was almost five years old,” Elizabeth began as she wrung her hands together. “He started complaining of pain in his chest when he would run and play at school. He told his teacher he was having problems breathing-” her breath hitched as she remembered what happened to her only son.

Richard squeezed his wife’s shoulder and continued on with the story. “We took him to an adult emergency room and they just said he was short of breath because he has asthma. They sent us home with medication and that was it.”

“I knew it was something more than asthma,” Elizabeth added. “Chest pain, feeling tired all the time and problems breathing weren’t just symptoms of asthma.”

“Once we found out this unit opened up we called to see if we could have Thomas looked at,” Richard turned to Ella with unshed tears in his eyes. “We are so grateful you answered the phone that day.”

“Dr. Brooks got you in here?” Ana asked as she looked up from her notebook.

“Yes, she fought to have us here, for her to follow Thomas through his surgery,” Elizabeth’s tears streamed down her face. “Thank you for saving my baby.”

As Liam watched, Ella gave Thomas’ parents a hug and wiped away her own tears. His heart skipped a beat as Thomas jumped off the bed and lept into Ella’s arms.  He wasn’t sure what it was about her, he just met her not even 30 minutes ago, but he had never felt the need to watch a woman. He had a lot of women throw themselves at him, he was a prince after all;  but he had never wanted to watch them or find out everything about them.  Liam chewed on his bottom lip as Ella threw her head back in laughter, Thomas still holding her in his small arms. The sound of her laugh made Liam want to be the cause of that for the rest of her life.

“Prince Liam?” Ana called out, breaking the smitten, blue-eyed prince out of his trance.

“Erm, yes?” Liam felt his neck and face flush in embarrassment at being caught staring.

“Shall we make our way to the foyer for your announcement?”

“Ah, yes,” Liam stole a glance at Ella, who was giving him a curious look. “Let’s go.”

The group said their goodbyes to Thomas and family and made their way to the front of the hospital.

“What is going on?” Ella whispered to Katherine.

“You’ll see.”

In the foyer, Ella was surprised to see most of the hospital as well as Bryce and Aera already there waiting.

Bryce wrapped his arm around his friend. “El! Where’ve you been?”

“I was getting interviewed by Ana de Luca, and the prince was there!”

“Whoa!” Aera squealed. “You saw the hot prince?!”

“Everyone, let’s quiet down please.” Dr. Cynthia Moore, the chief resident of the surgical department, clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “For those that don’t know who I am, my name is Dr. Moore and I am in charge of the surgical residents.”

Katherine stood at the top of the stairs, found Ella in the crowd with her eyes and smiled. “I’m Dr. Richey and I run the pediatric cardiology department.”

A petite woman stepped forward from behind Katherine. “Hi all, I’m Dr. Martinez and I look after the anesthesia residents.”

A tall man with a white coat cleared his throat. “My name is Ethan Ramsey, I am the Chief of Medicine here at Cordonia Memorial Hospital. I have His Royal Highness, Prince Liam here to make an announcement.”

Liam patted his friend on the shoulder. “Thank you, Dr. Ramsey. I met a lot of you today,” he locked eyes with Ella and smiled. “It was an honor to speak with you, seeing everyone excited to be here is what makes this hospital world class. I’m here to announce a competition, so to speak.”

The residents began to whisper among themselves.

“My father, King Constantine, wanted to start this residency program and open it to not only Cordonians but to foreigners as well. Dr. Ramsey, for example, was offered to stay in Cordonia as your Chief of Medicine after saving my father’s life in America,” Liam cleared his throat. “This competition will allow the winner to become an intern for my family’s medical team. Meaning, should any of my family become ill, you will be the first person we call to come to the palace.”

A hand shot up in the crowd.

“Yes?”

“Prince Liam,” a blond haired, blue-eyed woman next to Ella spoke. “How do we win?”

“Very good question. What is your name?”

The woman blushed. “I’m Madison, Your Highness, Dr. Madison Herrera.”

Liam smiled at Madison and Ella felt her stomach churn. “Well, Dr. Herrera, in order to win, your Chief Resident will be observing you closely. They will be rounding on your patients, speaking to them, looking over your charting, going through your diagnosis, treatment and plans.”

Ethan’s voice boomed throughout the foyer. “If you diagnose wrong, give your patient the wrong medication or fuck up in any way, you will automatically lose.”

Liam’s eyes widened at Ethan’s words. “Well, yes, unfortunately if you diagnose wrong, you will be out. Your Chief Residents will list you from highest to lowest, if you are the top resident for more than four weeks in a row, you win.”

“Do surgical and anesthesia residents compete also?” Bryce hollered.

“Dr. Lahela!” Dr Moore hissed from her place on the stairs.

“It’s okay,” Liam chuckled. “I apologize, Dr. Lahela, only medical residents for this competition.”

“Any other questions?” Ethan asked impatiently. When no one said a word, he waved everyone away. “Fine, go back to your departments.”

Ella let out a long breath and made her way to the cafeteria. She flashed her badge at the woman manning the register whose name was Flora. “Hi Ate, I’m just here for coffee.”

Flora waved her through. “Go ahead, Anak, it’s on the house.”

“Salamat po,” Ella squeezed the older woman’s shoulder and walked towards the drinks. As she picked a size and what flavor coffee she wanted, she felt someone standing behind her.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

[diamcndgirl]

have you ever thought to yourself, “hmm, i love one direction and i love waltrp... i wonder what would happen if we gave every taken character a one direction song that reminds me of them??” well, don’t worry because even if it never crossed your mind because it did for me. i’m back once again with another silly little #waltmeme for you with songs by one direction or their solo albums that remind me of your characters. the choices can have something to do with a certain lyric, the title, or just the all around vibe it gives me that makes me think of them. don’t worry everything is under ‘read more’ and in alphabetical order-- or whatever order the taken list is in. p.s. not everyone has a blurb. but i still had a reason for everyone. if you really wanna know why just dm me and i'll give an explanation. love u mean it.

ALEJANDRO DIAZ - STOLE MY HEART / ONE DIRECTION

“you stole my heart with just one look” alejandro, my love, my heart. it’s clear the reason i chose this song is because it talks about having something stolen. but, you and your band of misfit criminal friends can steal my heart any day.

AURORA CAPULET - LITTLE THINGS / ONE DIRECTION

“i can’t let these little things slip out of my mouth” aurora you may be thinking.. this song talks about all my imperfections why would you pick such a thing? oh no! it’s not because i think you’re imperfect at all. it’s because i’m totally in love with all the little things that make you who you are.. and not to mention i couldn’t not give you a ballad. 

ANNA ARNADALR - HEY ANGEL / ONE DIRECTION

“hey angel do you ever try to come to the other side?” this whole song has anna vibes. anna, you’re an angel.. did you know that? well, angel… when you aren’t busy trying to fix your sisterly connection come to the other side and hang out with me.

BECKHAM TEAGUE - NICE TO MEET YA / NIALL

“i want your number tattooed on my arm in ink i swear.” the song, the lyrics, the vibe all just fits beckham’s personality very well. 

BENNET DOE - SWEET CREATURE / HARRY

“sweet creature running through the garden oh where nothing bothered us.”  sweet, soft, and lovely bennet.. sweet creature is one of my favorite songs in the world and it reminds me so much of you. i couldn’t pick a character better than you to give it to. 

BARLEY LIGHTFOOT - CANYON MOON / HARRY

“i keep thinking back to a time under the canyon moon.” lyrically this song doesn’t fit you, barley. not truly. but, aesthetically it reminds me of you very much. you’re adventurous and a little out there just like this harry styles tune. the bridge especially gives me a vibe of riding around in guinevere out on an adventure.

CASSANDRA JAGER - ONLY THE BRAVE / LOUIS

“tall stories on the page, short glories on the fade.” cassandra reminds me of strength and being brave (wink wink). and this song just reminds me of you, cass. though short it gives me a feeling like i can kick some ass. 

DANI DENNISON - THROUGH THE DARK / ONE DIRECTION

“oh i will carry you over fire and water for your love and i will hold you closer hope your heart is strong enough.” i love dani.. like really really love your sweet soul. she’s the cutest truly. just the sound and lyrics remind me so much of her and her heart to help the ones she cares about. 

DAPHNE BLAKE - LITTLE BLACK DRESS / ONE DIRECTION

“i wanna see the way you move for me, baby” clearly this song isn’t anything to write home about lyrically. but, when i hear this song i get all excited and ready to go take on the world. something about it makes me feel like i’m the hottest girl in the room and it should go to the hottest girl in the room.. which is you, daphne.

ELIZABETH MCQUEEN - WOMAN / HARRY 

“i hope you can see, the shape that I’m in while he’s touching your skin.” hi elizabeth.. this song is just hot. you’re just hot.. i really am jealous of monty and would take his place at any given moment if you let me.

ELSA ARNADALR - DON’T LET IT BREAK YOUR HEART / LOUIS

“don’t you let it kill you even when it hurts like hell. oh, whatever tears you apart don’t let it break your heart.” elsa, you’re truly the strongest girl i know. this song just radiates that energy of getting over what you’ve been through and not letting it break you down. 

EMILY LORELEYN - BLUE / ZAYN

“in the clouds where the angels sing. in your eyes, where i wanna be and her smile is all i see….. i need someone to love me blue.” emily is a goddess okay.. like she’s so beautiful and kindhearted. this song is so beautiful and then also the ‘love me blue’. reminds me of her origin and how she waited for love until she passed and turned blue. 

EUGENE FITZHERBERT - ONE WAY OR ANOTHER (TEENAGE KICKS) / ONE DIRECTION

“and when the lights are all out.. i’ll follow your bus downtown.” oh horace.. this whole song just fits you so well.. the teenage kicks mashup with the joan jett classic. it just embodies you so well. i don’t think i could’ve picked a better song for you. 

FLORIAN CHARMONT - NIGHT CHANGES / ONE DIRECTION

FRANCIS KYDD - SOMETHING GREAT / ONE DIRECTION

“come on, jump out at me. come on, bring everything. is it too much to ask for something great? the script was written and i could not change a thing. i want to rip it all to shreds and start again.” there isn’t a real lyrical reason i picked this song for you, francis. just something about it made me think of you. just gave me a feeling that it was theatrical enough for you, dear.

FRAN BERNOULLI - NO CONTROL / ONE DIRECTION

“i just can’t get enough of you the pedal’s down, my eyes are closed. no control” did i pick this song because you’re a race car driver and it made me giggle… yes, and because i haven an uncontrollable crush on you, fran. 

FRED FREDRICKSON - SAVE YOU TONIGHT / ONE DIRECTION

“i, i wanna save you. wanna save your heart tonight. he’ll only break ya. leave you torn apart inside.” fredzilla, my absolute favorite hero. i dedicate this to you. simple but effective.

FREDDY JONES - END OF THE DAY / ONE DIRECTION

GEORGIE FOXWORTH - SOUR DIESEL / ZAYN

GRACELYNN MOON - HAPPILY / ONE DIRECTION

this is my favorite one direction song, gracie and i’m giving it to you. so take care of it and understand that it’s upbeat sound reminds me of you and your cute behind.

HADES VASILIKAS - STOCKHOLM SYNDROME / ONE DIRECTION

you steal people. but if you stole me.. i’d fall in love. that’s all really.

HAVEN LEMOS - STEAL MY GIRL / ONE DIRECTION

HERCULES ZERVOUS - STRONG / ONE DIRECTION 

get it because you’re strong? hehe.

HOWL PENDRAGON - ILLUSION / ONE DIRECTION

IAN LIGHTFOOT - MAGIC / ONE DIRECTION

JACK FROST - LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW / LIAM

i’m sorry but i’m not sorry i chose this song for you, jack. feel free to hate me forever. 

JIM HAWKINS - WE MADE IT / LOUIS

KIARA SANTUCCI - NOBODY COMPARES / ONE DIRECTION

LILO PELEKAI -  SHE’S NOT AFRAID / ONE DIRECTION

LOGAN TEAGUE - TEENAGE DIRTBAG / ONE DIRECTION

LUCA PAGURO - SUMMER LOVE / ONE DIRECTION

MAEL CALCIFER - FIREPROOF / ONE DIRECTION

“i’m feeling something deep inside. hotter than a jet stream burning up.” i’d only want to be fireproof for you, mael. there is just something about you that wins my heart. i’d walk through fire for you.

MAVIS VADUVA - 

MEG DIMITRIOU - SHE / HARRY 

MOLLIE SILVER - KISS YOU / ONE DIRECTION

MONTY MCQUEEN - ROCK ME / ONE DIRECTION

“hit the pedal heavy metal, show me you care.” not only do i want you to rock me, monty. the only reason i chose this song is because i have a nascar inspired shirt for this and it reminds me of you. 

NALA OMITA - NEW ANGEL / NIALL HORAN

NUKA LEU - PILLOWTALK / ZAYN

ORION BARTHOLOMEW - KIWI / HARRY 

orion, are we sure you’ve never had a woman accuse you of being her baby daddy? either way, this songs vibe just makes sense for you, dear.

PENELOPE HAINLINE - GIRL ALMIGHTY / ONE DIRECTION

“she floats through the room on a big balloon. some say she’s such a fake that her love is made up.” penny, you are aware you’re the literal coolest girl in the world this song just proves it more. 

PHILIP CHARMONT - WOLVES / ONE DIRECTION

REAGAN CYMBELINE - SUNFLOWER VOL 6 / HARRY

“sunflower my eyes want you more than a melody.” reagan, besides the fact you’re a literal walking and talking sunflower there is just a sweet feeling i get when i hear this song and its the same feeling i get when i think of you. 

RITA HOLDEN - ONLY ANGEL / HARRY 

SADIE TEAGUE - KILL MY MIND / LOUIS

SIMBA SANTUCCI - TIO / ZAYN

SHAGGY ROGERS  - WHAT A FEELING / ONE DIRECTION

SOPHIE HATTER - ADORE YOU / HARRY

THACKERY BINX - SMALL TALK / NIALL

VITANI LEU - MIDNIGHT MEMORIES / ONE DIRECTION

“tell me that i’m wrong but i do what i please.” vitani, if anyone in elias is gonna say fuck you i’m doing what i want.. it’s you. 

VELMA DINKLEY  - BACK FOR YOU / ONE DIRECTION

VIDIA BELLEFONTE - SHE / ZAYN

WALLY AXIOM - PERFECT / ONE DIRECTION

WILL TURNER - LIKE I WOULD / ZAYN

[gustafsnightangel]

Shattered Lives Ch 38 Pt 2

With the kids in bed, himself freshly showered, he brought the teapot and cups into her office and shut the door. He wasn’t sure if there would be raised voices, but just in case he’d seclude them away until they were done. Pouring her a cup he sat on the edge of her desk, the stroke along her hand jolting her out of lawyer land, a soft smirk tugging his lips. He’d never get over how beautiful she was, wicked smart and beautiful.

She looked at him, the tea in his hand and prepared herself for the argument she knew was coming. The fight he had every right to lay at her feet. She stayed silent, prepared to let him rage at her for placing herself in that kind of danger.

“I want to be so angry with you.” He said softly after a moment. “For putting yourself in that position, for not coming back upstairs with the kids. I want to rage at you for scaring fifty years off my life when I saw him hit you.” His knuckles grazed her cheek, the bruise already blooming. “But I can’t.” He said shaking his head. “I can’t because you were doing what you thought was right, with the split second you had to make the decision to keep the kids safe.” A few years ago this conversation would have gone very differently, he thought. Back then he would have been quick to anger and let the rage rule his mind, rule his actions, rule his life. Now? Not so much, he’d mastered that demon well.

“I know now I should have just stepped into the elevator and come back upstairs.” She said gently. Hindsight was a wonderful thing, she thought bitterly. “But it didn’t even cross my mind.” He wiped the stray tear away, she hated herself for scaring him, for the whole mess of it. “All I could think about was getting the kids away from him. I didn’t even consider getting myself away from him too.”

“And you did keep them safe love.” He smiled. “You sent them to me.”

“I guess I am learning.” She scoffed at herself shrugging her shoulders. He toyed with her hair, his fingers raking through the waves. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t love.” He said shaking his head. “Don’t ever apologize for protecting your kids.”

“Our kids.” She sniffed. “They’re yours as much as they are mine now.”

“I know. I guess I’m still learning.” He murmured. Leaning over he brushed his lips against hers tenderly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She choked, her emotions still too close to the surface.

“What are you working on?” He asked, determined to move past it, nodding a head toward her open laptop, their front door feed paused ready to be played.

“Something that stuck with me, but because my brain got rattled around in my skull I couldn’t be certain whether he’d said it or whether I was confused and just hallucinating.” She chuckled at his confused look. “Have you seen the feed?”

“Only the first bit to make sure it was working, I haven’t had a chance to really watch or digest it.” He said softly as she stood up and gestured for him to sit, taking up residence in his lap once he’d settled. He snuggled her in, long limbs securing her to him.

“Ignore what you see and listen to what he’s saying.” She pressed play and he listened, but nothing really registered as out of the ordinary, just some mumbling after he’d struck Sildie that he couldn’t really grasp the first time around.

“I’m missing something, I know I am but...” He fell silent as she cued it up at a specific spot.

“Listen, close your eyes and listen, it’s really faint but it’s there.” She hit play once his eyes closed.

“Not unless you want me to bite your dick off.” He heard Sildie say clearly and smirked, she would have too.

“Time to collect what I’m owed you little cunt whore.” It was barely audible before the crack of his hand hitting her face. That was a sound that he’d never get out of his head. “Always fucking with my life, you little bitch. First my cunt sister and now you. Ana said you’ve been trouble for her, accusing her, setting her up. First your brother fucked me over taking my sisters money, now you’re getting in the way with Ana. I’m gonna take what I’m owed from you, fuck the money, I’m gonna fuck you until...” Sildie pressed pause on the feed not wanting to hear or see the rest of it again. She’d watched it enough and Gustaf didn’t need to hear the rest.

His eyes flew open with a choked gasp and he stared at her.

“I only vaguely remember him mentioning Ana. My face was on fire and I couldn’t be sure.” She said quietly, eyes searching his.

“She sent him to hurt you?” He murmured in disbelief that Ana would have gone that far, his own brain chewing over the thought. A fresh new wave of rage started to simmer.

“It’s a possibility.” She nodded. “We won’t know for sure unless he starts spilling the details in a confession. But Elias has hated me for a long time love. He wouldn’t have needed much of a push to come at me.”

“Does Leon know about this? Lucas? Lindstrom? Fuck, everyone?” He asked his eyes widening as the extent of Ana’s involvement clicked. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him sweetly taking all that rage out of his sails in an instant.

“Take a breath love, and yes they all know. They have copies and a signed statement from me.” She kissed him slowly, a tenderness to soothe. “That’s what I’ve been working on.”

“This is good for us right?” He was unsure how he should feel, rage, anger, fear, joy, hopeful. His brain didn’t seem to know which emotion to settle on.

“It’s good for us, in a few ways. Elias will go away for multiple counts of aggravated assault, restraining order and court order violations. It was all caught on camera, it’s a done deal, I’ve filed the paperwork and sent it all to Leon, copies sent to Elsa, your lawyers. Family court will bury him for that alone, especially with multiple assaults already on his record. Then there’s the possible tie in with Ana.” She held up her hand to stop him from arguing as his mouth dropped open to do exactly that. “It’s only a possible, we have no proof it is her. All he says is Ana, it could be any Ana on the planet. Highly likely it’s our Ana but still. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That piece of information is circumstantial at best.”

“I see your point.” He said tersely, his own brain working through the information.

“If it is Ana it will not only hurt her case if there is a connection, but hurt him and Dana’s family. To be honest, I’m kind of ok with a bruised wrist and jaw when it will kill two birds with one stone.”

“I’m still not ok with him laying hands on you.” He said bluntly, fingers stroking down her good cheek to bring her closer for a kiss. She let him deepen it, not able to bring herself to mention she’d heard him call her his wife, the microphones barely picking it up, but it was there. The way it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, with so much love and conviction it had sucker punched her square in the gut.

“I’m ok love.” She said softly, her hand resting on his chest.

“Are you done in here for the night?” He asked, kissing her bare shoulder where her sweater had slipped down as she finished her tea.

“I can be.” She said softly. “I should be.” She sighed, knowing that if she pushed it any further the headache she currently had sitting behind her eyes ready to pounce would get worse.

“Headache?”

“Yeah, and my face hurts.” She winced as she realized just how much she’d been ignoring it.

“How’s the wrist?” He asked, brushing a finger lightly over the strapping the hospital had insist she wear.

“Not as bad as my face.”

“Well that’s something. Up for a soak? You need to switch off that wicked smart brain and let it catch up to the rest of you. It got a little rattled around in there.” His kiss gentle.

“Will you soak with me?” Her finger trailed down his jaw before she claimed that clever mouth tenderly. She wanted to see him calmer as well.

“No water sports.” He said gruffly, the smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.

“Spoil sport.” She pouted.

“But I’ll soak with you.” He kissed her softly. “Take care of you.”

“I think it’s my turn to take care of you, you’ve filled your quota for today.” She chuckled. “Maybe for the entire year.”

“We don’t keep score love, remember.” He murmured and kissed her longingly. “How about we take care of each other?”

“Now that I can get down with.”

“You take care of the teapot, I’ll run the bath.” He tapped her thigh for her to get up, but she stayed.

“I love you.” She said sweetly. “So much.”

“My Sildie.” He breathed. “My love.” He let the love for her pour out of him. “My home.” He kissed her tenderly. “You are my everything.”

While Gustaf readied the tub, Sildie rinsed the teapot and smiled as she looked around their home. Home, she thought, their home, their kids. Her hand went to her belly absently as that ever present question circled along with another. My wife, he’d said it with such conviction, complete commitment, that deep love he only had for her. “Do I want to be married?” She mumbled, almost startling herself with her own question. “Not that it would be much different than what we’re already doing.” She chewed on her lip and flexed her wrist wincing. “Just another question to add to the list I guess.” She muttered and turned off the lights and checked the front door.

She found him in their en-suite, the shirt already in the hamper, sweats slung low on his hips. Memories from their lazy morning flooded into her as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face between his blades. Her home, her man.

“You ok love?” He chuckled as he cradled her tender wrist to him.

“Yamnow.” She said and breathed him in, her cheek more a dull ache than earlier, she knew it would be worse tomorrow. He turned and helped her strip, holding out his hand for her to take so she didn’t slip as she climbed in the tub. He went out to the kitchen and brought back an ice pack in a towel and handed it to her.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow. Lots of ice now makes it more bearable in the morning.” He’d taken his fair share of knocks to learn that one quickly.

He scooped her into his lap, soaped his hands and massaged her shoulders as she held the ice to her face, the other wrapped against her wrist, and relaxed into him. His hands wandered, more to soothe and just feel her body than arouse. When she was nearly asleep he pulled the plug and dried her off, carrying her to bed and snuggling her in.

“Sleep now love.” He kissed her, lazy and slow, kisses that he cherished.

“Gustaf?”

“Mmmm.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead willing her to switch her brain off and let sleep take her.

“I love you and I’m sorry I scared you.” She mumbled.

“I love you too and try not to do it again ok?” He chuckled gently.

“I’ll try, I’m sorry.” Her voice barely there.

“Let it be done now love, sleep.”

“Kay.” She went under and he smiled at the sudden deadweight in his arms.

“I’m so in love with you.” He grinned, kissing her head and following her into sleep moments later, her scent soothing him.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden @nandadb

[kaetastic]

BLUE EYES, RED HANDS

pairing: Thomas Shelby x Changretta!Reader

summary: Thomas Shelby grazes his eyes upon an unaccompanied figure on the bar, despite the exhausting, enjoyable night, he mistook the woman as innocent. She was not who he thought she was.

word count: 5.7k (why am i like this)

warning: language, mentions of violence, mentions of gun, smut, angst? maybe?? teeny bit?? liquor?

note: first of all, i want to address the timeline which is a confusing bunch. it is indeed set at season 4 episode 1?? tommy hadn’t called his brothers yet yeeyee (also, i’m very proud of this moodboard for some reason?) — with that, thank you for reading and have a nice day!

Red— Thomas Shelby hasn’t noticed the occasional (more like countless) appearance of the fiery colour in his life that popped up endlessly which seemed to only surround him. Despite being a gangster who had spilt litres of blood and drained people of the substance, he might as well declare red as his favourite colour. Blood. Fire. Coincidentally, it was also the colour of her silk dress that hugged her figure graciously, the devil-like heels, and the smeared paint over her lips. The woman who swirled a rock glass in her hand hadn’t craned up her neck from the cup, too enchanted by the twirling hurricane in the liquor. 

Although Thomas wasn’t attending the bar for business reasons or to analyze possible business partners, he refrained himself from creating more ties with other people; even though there was a temptation he had been trying so hard to suppress down underground ever since he had stepped into the bar. Well, despite the horror sitting in his house, he needed to step out of the arrow house for a quick sip of whiskey that was not in the walls of his home. Thomas had already dealt with several firebacks from knowing too many people for his own good. Could he be blamed though? Thomas Shelby was a businessman.

Thomas didn’t want to admit it, but seeing her figure alone and sole on the stool of the bar had flickered something in him. The gangster did not want to admit that he had been staring at her from the moment her heels sparkled under the hazy blur of the bar. No one approached her. Although it sounded saddening and pitiful since it could not be applied the same to Thomas, he had assumed it was the aura floating around her. Gypsy bullshit. There were lines of red and purple dancing on her counter, radiating from her. Guilt and power. Of course, glances were hurled onto the lonely woman who was on her third glass of whiskey; however, no one made a move. Until now. 

Midway pacing to the bar, polished shoes glistening under the hazy, dim light of the bar, Thomas wasn’t sure when he had even got up from the seat that he had claimed a second ago. The wooden table that cowered in a blurry corner was cast with a smear of shadow, darkness lurking from every angle, ready to engulf it once the night ends, and the door had been locked. Stranded alone, the shadow the Birmingham gangster had been accompanying had no other option but to defend itself against the misty black that lorded over. 

There were questions in a continuous reflection in the walls of his brain such as to how his legs even moved that fast. Maybe it was because of the excessive walking he had done in the bright morning, dashing from his room to room, and hallways to branching ones when he had received the mails from his maid. Although the previous day he was at a meeting (an added factor to his muscle exhaustion), which had been nothing but boring, the gangster had to state that he enjoyed some meetings because there was a goal he could achieve (or he had the upper hand of the situation). 

However, Thomas had to sit in a chair that was chewed on by a colony of starving bunnies who had been realized as soon as they were on the edge of delirious. It was on the brink of collapsing, its quivering, muscle-less legs were ready to give up. The man knew if he had rested his left leg properly and comfortably, Thomas would’ve met the floor with a crash. The Birmingham gangster had two things in mind, his pride and his accurate reading of the current in the air (a gypsy thing). Some men were just fucking sly.

Or, maybe it was due to his forever changing age that would never reverse back. Thomas could not ignore the surging aching of his muscles. Yanking the strings to his brain even though the main consultant of decisions barely had time to digest the request, his calf had been the gun to a starting indication of the race to begin. Just like that of an amateur horse, the top half of his body only comprehended the situation he could not back out once he was on the path. He could’ve stopped. He should’ve probably turned around to scream at whoever dared to take his seat he had just left vacant. Thomas Shelby didn’t stop. 

Despite the card with a prominent black hand resting on the desk of his lavish estate, the drinks in the building could not blur the mess of thoughts in his head. The mess he had created and now, he had to clean it all back up. After spilling more Italian blood who had managed to tiptoe into his house, he needed to get out of the building. All the bottle of liquor on the alcohol stand tasted the same; they all did not do their job as he was here, in a bar, still sober. Fucking Italians and the mafia behind his back but here he was, out in the open, approaching a woman. He nearly chuckled as the words vibrated in his head in his aunt’s scolding voice. Oh, to how she would react to him right now. If only she was there to restrain him. 

His icy blue eyes grazed over hers, strings gushing out of their pupils sprung onto one another in surges of shocks. Her gaze that met his electrifying blue eyes sent jolts of volts through his clenching tissues. As an approaching figure made way towards her way, Y/N turned her focus back towards her cup. A rush threaded through her veins; she could hear her thrumming heart in her ears. Was it intimidation? Had she hoped that he approached her? She had felt eyes blaring on her back while she enjoyed her drink, but never did she bring herself to hurl a glance despite her growing curiosity. Although his frigid blue iris was a work of art, a priceless sculpture planted on a mount, she somehow managed to pull away from it. There was no glass in his hands which could only mean that he needed a drink. It didn’t mean he was approaching her... right?

The brick walls of defence she started to build in a haste when their eyes met collapsed. Specks of dust swam in the air as his body leaned against the bar, only a few inches between their arms, not too scandalous; respectful, “Whiskey, neat.” With a sniff for air, Y/N knew she was no longer safe. There was a prominent smear of cigarette and a dying tone of whiskey plastered around him. The type of men she had been taught and warned not to dance with. The hoarseness of his voice sent shivers down her spine, spiking up her legs. Bopping his head, the bartender was quick to dash away to prepare the drink. Despite the freshly opened bottle of whiskey that was used to refill her glass, the bartender went to whisk out another one.

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she sipped on the intoxicating liquid. Ticks cried out, seconds clicked to the next at an agonizing pace. There was something stirring up, something warm and tensed as if scorching on the sun. Power radiated around the man, circling around him in never-ending loops. The distance between their arms was only six inches, however, Y/N couldn’t deny the fact that whatever he gave off, it wasn’t good for her health. Fingers swiftly yet gingerly opening the metal cigarette case, Thomas pulled one stick out before shoving it in front of the woman.

Y/N glanced at the array of the white dresses on the cig that sat in between her and her drink, “I don’t smoke.” Straying for a second, his index finger flapped the casing shut before hurling it back into his coat. While she sipped on the drink, thoughts resounding of the walls of her head in clashes of metal crying, Thomas took a drag of the lit cigarette after he ran it over his lips.

“Why’s that?” Y/N’s eyes clicked onto his. Not a smooth path of guidance but a snap as if the opposite poles of a magnet. The dying act of attraction. A thread of ice plastered a strand in his eyes of a blue, cloudless sky. Though, the lazy dancing of the smoke hovered over his orbs, smeared a hazy blur of the puffy mists. Her eyes ran back to her whiskey.

“My brother thinks it’ll kill me early.” Despite Thomas’s reluctant decision on presenting himself to the bar (a good feeling because he just got the fucking black hand), he hated to admit it, but he was happy he had done the opposite of what his gut told him. The same gut that believed that Alfie Solomons had betrayed him; the same gut that knew his relation and ties to the Russian would’ve been the death of Grace. Might as well find the sparkling, hidden jewel of the night beneath the layers of obnoxious people.

With the glass of whiskey finally on the bar, he took a sip of a familiar liquid after chuckling, although, there was a twinge of bitterness to the liquor he wasn’t so familiar with, “So, you listen to what he says like a good dog?” Y/N’s eyes beamed to his, narrowing to read him. Where was the man going with this? He barely introduced himself and he had already wanted to strike up an argument. “I think your brother’s wrong. Go through a pack of these days by day meself. Here I am, still alive.”

The tone of his voice was swirled with whiskey, coated with a smear of sweetness yet the way it rolled of his tongue sounded as if he expected himself to be buried in the ground already, “I listen to him because, without him, I would be on the streets,” Y/N practically hissed, throwing a whip at the man. It was true. Despite the cold exterior of her older brother, Luca had been nothing but a gentle pillow when he’s with his family. However, a soft feather when anything involved with his baby sister. A true Italian. His never-ending love for his sister was something her own mother and father could barely compete with.

Even though Y/N could’ve been already married and possibly birth out children of her own just like her other cousins, Luca had been the one to shake his head. Y/N had no occupation, no sense of work. All because of her older brother who justified his disagreement to sending her off to a man or having her work, by saying that she was the youngest. Indeed, the youngest. She’s just a baby, mama. Without a second thought, they listened with their ears wide open to the oldest. If Luca was out the picture, she would’ve probably had a ring around her finger. “Plus, I’m sure your lungs have given up on your... routine.”

The corners of his lips curled up, finding her wiggling finger at his cig amusing, “Then tell me, what’s a woman like you sitting here alone?” Quirking up an eyebrow at the man, Y/N stared into his ocean-like eyes.

“A woman like me? When he nodded, a faint smirk straying on his lips, Y/N scoffed. “Is that how you approach women? Bash their choices and talk about the reasons to why they don’t smoke? Without having the decency to introduce yourself? What a gentleman.”

Thomas didn’t bat an eye when she rolled her eyes, clearly done with his interruption of her night. After a drag of his cigarette and a clear of his throat, he held out his palm, calloused fingertips ready to run over her velvety ones, “I’m Thomas.” Y/N tapped her fingers on her thighs, drumming with the beating seconds for him to continue for the last name. But the quirk of his eyebrow and shake of his empty hand, she knew that was all he would give her. Just Thomas. Fine then, that is how it is.

The warmth of his hand was a blanketed temperature of blistering, hot ammo that had been fired seconds ago. Though, it plunged down to the deepest of the frigid, ocean, where no light dared to enter, “Y/N.” Frigid lips pressed against her knuckles. All of the tissues and muscles packed around her rib bones limped, body failing to stabilize at the electrifying shocks from his touch. A thread of smoke smeared along the bump of her knuckles swirled in with the bitter whiskey.

Why had the gangster said a fragment of his nickname? Was he guilty of using an alias? Had he truly not bothered to create possible future business ties? Thomas Shelby’s eyes may be less weak with rotting age, but he could see something sizzling in the air. Another gypsy shit. Puffs of smoke danced in between them while chatters and a faint sound they called music trickled into their ears, “You from America?”

The woman nodded at his inquiry, the corners of her lips curling up from the brilliant idea in her head, “Just curious or you want to add an American to your list?”

“What list?” Thomas mumbled, stabbing the stick into an ashtray before showing off his pearly white teeth. “I don’t keep count.”

Y/N wasn’t sure why and how she still had her dress on. Or to why there was barely a prominent crease or wrinkle of the fabric. Despite the sizzling air in the closed vehicle, the only two people in the car had somehow managed to keep their hands to themselves. There were only a few words exchanged between the man who was driving the woman to his house, to which she would only reply back with a short word. Y/N feared that answering long sentences would reveal her quivering chords from the shameless thoughts in her head. The night was getting older, inching towards the cackling alarm birds. And it was no summer. It was a brutal winter of clouds evaporating from mouths, ready to pierce into the soil ground after it freezes into blade-like icicles.

Heat and warmth from a fireplace could ever do so much, but if it was to be placed on the battlefield of furious wind and gale, it would be an unfair fight. The silvery thread of moonlight sprinkled over the black hood of the car, painting an oil smears of a single grey tone. Yet, a priceless painting that one would only be able to see in a too late of a night and a too early of a morning. Fingernails furling into the fuzzy pouch, Y/N chewed on her bottom lip as she tried her best to not think too much about what the night had for her. However, with every creative idea, the heat between her legs was accompanied by a familiar wetness. 

There was no doubt that she knew the man driving would see the incessant shifting of her legs, pressing onto one another as if the seat had been prickling and uncomfortable. It didn’t take the gangster long to piece the information which was backed up by her staggering breathing. Even though the notorious Birmingham gangster was somewhat known for his icy face of a wall and his strong, unwavering stance on a stoic expression, he couldn’t help the curling of his lips.

That was when awestruck the woman. Fading through the mist of shadow was a grand house. No, a piece of art that resided in the middle of hairless trees. Warm yellow spheres stood straight, bright despite the late hours of the night. Even though Y/N’s upbringing had the mafia as a factor, she was never involved in any scene. With Luca as an older brother spoiling her, something Angel had barely given a point since he was too busy occupying himself (mostly meddling in things he shouldn’t have), she thought she had seen all of it. From marble museums, valuable coffee sets, dress worth a town, and natural landscapes that even a painting or a picture would not be able to capture its beauty. She thought.

The Italian had no idea why she spent her childhood in New York with her older brother even though she could’ve lived in England. Well, she gave a penny to the thought that it was most likely Luca who had given the idea to their parents. When Luca had been of age and she, too, he had requested his parents to let her live with him in New York even though they were making future plans for her in England. Somehow, the eldest crawled through their hearts. She wasn’t sure how different she would be if she was to grow up in England. 

Once the car twirled around a statue, and it halted in front of the archway that led to the front door, Thomas did not waste a second to turn the engine off. The furious breeze of the wind kissed him once he sauntered out of the vehicle, it slashed through his oversized coat and pierced into his skin mercilessly. But he did not care. He couldn’t give a fuck what stood against him, all he needed was this relief.

Still recovering from the freezing wind that managed to seep into the car when Thomas opened his door, Y/N shivered at the familiar numbing sensation she had been shielded from an hour ago. The frigid temperature embedded a blade into her skin, dragging the sharp weapon down her body to cut off any possible way for her to even feel the hand splayed behind her back. However, the warm puffs of air that smelt and tasted of cigarettes and liquor smeared against her tongue, a fire sparking to roar in the midst of the bedding of ice. 

It filled up her parched mouth, warming her throat even though her skin felt like it had been dipped in water of the coldest winter. Her fingers fiddled with his hair, weaving through the luscious locks before tugging on it when his hands descended. There was nothing else in her head as the scent of him coated her lungs, engraining his marking on the walls of her chest. Despite his body curving into hers for the desperate friction and caress of her skin, it wasn’t enough.

No words were exchanged as Thomas rummaged through his coat for the golden key to his house. He had already informed his maids that he would be heading out to clear his mind in case the night became old so they wouldn’t have to be frantic at who slammed the door shut. While his tongue was brushing over her innocent one, his fingers fumbled with the lock, key quivering to brush around the hole. 

Thomas wasn’t sure why his hands were wavering, maybe it was from the frigid breeze or it was the fact that her moans had caused his pants to yank tight around his legs; his knees wobbled, suddenly drenched clothing from a furious rainfall. It wasn’t prominent, but Thomas had a faint assumption that he might’ve been the first man she had been with who was tainted. Tainted as in the sense of sludge from crawling underground. Tainted as in the sense of the blood that had been spilt on his hands. Tainted as in he was the devil.

Sighing into his lips, the key was long forgotten onto the concrete floor as her back was met with the icy walls. A coat of ice smeared along the house; however, it was not as daring as the wind, “Thomas... fuck...” A staggering exhale trickled into the air when his lips met with the soft, sensitive skin under her ears. Legs wrapped around his waist, all Y/N wanted to do was tear off the barrier standing between the two.

Thomas felt piercing bites of her freezing fingers on his cheeks. However, after adapting and growing up with the familiar weather, his hands had been immune to the temperature. There was no concern that the two were visibly in front of his house, his hips in between hers while he prodded his hardening over her damp spot. Lips still moulded with hers, he couldn’t get enough of the magic radiating from her. Another string of curses fell off her lips, “Fuck, just get the fucking door.” Even though Y/N wouldn’t mind the outdoors, the heat between the two was not enough to combat with the windy air.

Thomas swept up the key that sat on the ground, lips swollen and chest heaving. Jabbing it in with precision once he was not focused on the woman, the click sound was then maimed from an engulfing one. The door slammed shut, echoing through the colossal house, followed by the ruffling of clothing, clattering of metal against the floor, and shoes slamming. Tongue caressing one another, Thomas tugged his coat, hurling it onto the wooden floor, not batting an eye to where it landed. The maids will surely place it at its designated place.

The ruckus halted when Y/N’s fingers brushed over the straps of the gun holster that rested on his shoulders comfortably, the gun fluttering its eyelashes innocently. Quirking an eyebrow at the object she didn’t expect to find, Thomas mumbled a reply, “Defence.” Y/N didn’t remember when her red dress was removed but in the corner of her eyes, she saw a glitter sparkling under the blurry light. Although the house was indeed warmer than whatever torture was set up outside, she could feel bumps bulge on her skin from the lack of clothing covering her. The woman was left only in her lace white brassiere, innocent garter, and stocking while the gangster had only stripped off his coat and jacket.

The pair trekked up the wooden stairs, her bare feet brushed over the carpet of that was smeared against the steps. Too enchanted by his hands that ran over her body, Y/N barely had time to admire the workings of art hung onto the rich green wall that had been glistened over by the hazy light from the small lamps residing in the corner of each wall. She could only see flashes of gold; however, she had time to smear the painting of a sole woman in her head. Despite the resounding and loud thoughts in her head, she didn’t bother to raise her voice as they had somehow managed to reach the top of the stairs without halting every minute at each wall. She didn’t know where they were going but Thomas’s arms were wrapped around her bare waist, guiding her while he walked backwards. 

The Italian was intoxicated with the man, not because of the mystery radiating off of him or the stingy smell coating him but his confidence. His confidence was practically glowing from him. A familiar noise of a door slamming even though it was already late at night echoed through the long hallway, Thomas nudged the woman onto the bed, causing her to spring on the mattress lightly. Elbows pierced into the bed, she watched as he tugged every article off his body. His eyes had not wavered from hers which darted to her top teeth peeking out to bite her bottom lips. 

There was no light, now that Y/N noticed, except the natural one blaring through the windows. However, she couldn’t help but note that the room was a spare, not the room he would usually sleep in. The man was anything but plain, the house was decorated at a balance which would only mean it would remain the same conclusion to his bedroom. Unfortunately, the room she assumed (she convinced herself not to jump to the bullet) was just an extra guest room (with a house like that, it would be no surprise for half a dozen of unused rooms), was as empty as it can be. Two windows plastered on one wall, displaying the surrounding forest trees through blurry panes of curtains. A bed without a crease or mark of inhabitants, a table and a chair on the opposite side of the room, and a sole golden-framed painting of a meandering river above the bed. 

It felt like forever before the man finally made way to hover over her body. The familiar heat grazed over her skin, caressing every hair on her. His icy eyes met hers after he had taken the sight ready for him, moonlight smeared over her body. Her skin radiated the grey rays, glowing in spells he didn’t even know existed, entrapping him to bewitching magic. So it did. Thomas ran his hands in a languid pace, thumb prodding into her skin from her shoulder to knead her covered breasts before hastily removing it. God knows where he threw it, but she heard a familiar clash nearby. Lips pressed against her neck, he could see her skin paint a faint red before he trailed down to make a path of it. He could smell the vanilla perfume as if it exasperated out of her skin. All he wanted to do was ruin her. 

There were no words or intention of a conversation whispered between the two, but there were only strings of curses, moans and groans singing in the night air, “Thomas...” His name dripped into his ears like viscous honey, sweet and addicting; the selfish gangster needed more. Finally making himself a place between her wide-opened legs, he pushed himself deeper into her slick folds without an issue. Wet for him. Once he was deep in her and his fingers brushed away the hairs on her forehead, Y/N hooked her legs around his hips, ready for him to move. 

It was all a blur. She couldn’t remember when he had thrust his hips but all she could recall at the starting point was her head thrown back into the pillow. Her words clogged in the middle of her throat while the prickling strands of Thomas’s hair pierced onto her collarbone. Groans fell off his lips, hips snapping onto hers. The sight of her lidded eyes and parted lips that only screamed his name was one he would not be able to forget. The bed creaked, rattling against the wall mercilessly, most likely punching an indent into the walls. It wasn’t long before Y/N saw stars. Time became non-existent as they lived in their own bubble, however, it was popped once the two chased after their own relief. 

“Fuck. That was a good one, eh?” Y/N giggled, hands smacking his chest before her eyes grazed over the tattoo. Her thumb caressed on the ink, following the path as if scribbling art. There was a wanton sound rippling through the air once Thomas pulled out. The empty feeling was poured with exhaustion and soreness. That night, Thomas fell asleep, ready to embark the journey to the shithole of Watery Lane. A safe place for his family.

The bed creaked as the sole body under the covers attempted to turn on his right. Thomas’s eyes shot open to the metal bars kissing his skin; the feeling of his muscles aching as if it had been suspended over his head for hours. Looped around his wrist was a silk cloth, tightly wrapped around his wrist to the bar. Despite his tries at tugging away to escape its hold, he failed. Miserably. The headboard rattled, creating a noisy commotion just like that of the previous night. The tightness of the cloth nearly cut off his circulation if he continued to incessantly yank back. His calloused fingers of his free hand ran around the fabric in hopes of finding the points where the starting and ending met. He failed.

“Good morning.” The silky voice trickled into his ears in a caress of the finest fabric. The tone of wine and fresh bouquet of flowers that sat in a ceramic vase. The same voice that panted and screamed his name the previous night (or early morning). All coated with lies. Hand still locked to the bar, the gangster pushed himself up, elbows piercing into the mattress while his eyes beamed at the glowing sight.

Resting under the colossal windows, a hazy blur of yellow smeared over the figure who sat on a chair. If Thomas wasn’t attached to the bed, and he inched closer towards her, he could’ve probably taken in the priceless morning view with more details. Thoughts and questions bounced off the walls of his head. How did he get into this situation? Where were his maids? That was thrown out of the window when his eyes shamelessly ran over the figure who sat crisscrossed.

The innocent white stocking grazed upon her skin to settle on her thighs, his markings he had indented prominently visible, accompanied by the garter. Even though his eyes caressed over the lace bra decorating her chest, his eyes darted to the lit cigarette, “Thought you didn’t smoke.”

Dancing swirls evaporated into the air from the stick that dangled between her fingers. Y/N’s eyes finally peeled away from the sheets of papers in her hands. Sheets of paper Luca wouldn’t allow her to hold or even thrown a glance at. Sheets of paper that would be buried deep underground because a glance at a letter meant she was in her older brother’s world. An organization of a different dimension.

“I don’t. But I needed more than whiskey,” Y/N mumbled, taking a drag of the cigarette as she shook the papers in her grasp, eyes still attached to the blotches of ink. Thomas’s eyes grazed over the papers before turning his gaze towards the mysterious woman. Any hints, any clues that gave away her character. No. None. All he got was her moans in his ears and the way her skin pressed against his. “Are you trying to read me?”

The corners of her lips curled up at the glorious sight, “Because I’ve read you, Thomas Shelby,” She mumbled, a wavering smirk quivered on her lips. “You took something of mine. Something you won’t be able to give me back. It’s finally nice to meet you despite my brother’s attempts, Mr Shelby. I’m Y/N, Y/N Changretta.”

Thomas had run his ears along many rumours said about him. Despite the people who have learnt to fear what laid beneath the stoic expression of the Birmingham gangster, it had only tainted his ego and pride. But now, an egg was cracked. Piercing fragments of glass shards covered the floor as whatever roared in his veins smeared over his face. His piercing glacier eyes gazed into hers. Y/N could see the patent plaster of teal in his orbs even though she was on the other side of the room.

“You haven’t heard of me,” Y/N stated, already knowing where this would go after she hurled the sheets of paper onto the table. Slices of paper flew in the air before splatting onto the wooden surface. Slightly slouching, she crossed her arms, eyes narrowing onto his figure. The Italian noted the furrow of his eyebrows when she revealed who she was. Thomas Shelby speculated her words, “Luca kept me away from the mafia. We came here after mother told us what happened. Although, I wasn’t there when she told me about the details. I came to England knowing only one name and nothing else, Thomas Shelby.”

The Birmingham gangster brushed over her features he had already ingrained into his head when her chest curved into his body. Thomas hummed, “So what? You’re going to kill me, eh? Is that why you’re here? Fucked me to finish the vendetta?” n

His veins protruded. Ropes of blue rose to the surface of his neck, blush of red creeping up to smear his jaw from rage. How did he end up in this situation? Fucked a Changretta? The same doubt from the previous night resounded off the walls of his head, if only Polly was here. The woman would’ve grabbed his cap and cut his eyes even though she was his aunt. Fucking slept with the enemy. The corners of Y/N’s lips curled up, slightly amused by his assumption, “No, Thomas,” His name rolled off her tongue as if entertained by the frustration he was displaying. “I fucked you because I snuck out of my room.” Y/N mumbled, standing up while she recalled the time she managed to tiptoe out of the room that had started to narrow onto her. Luca and his protectiveness. 

“Plus, you know how vendettas work. No blood on my hands,” While mumbling the words, she had already put on her dress back which she had to discreetly take. The maids who patrolled around was indeed just like that of a wandering guard. It sat on her figure just like the night before; however, it seemed to be dishevelled, crumpled from the desperate pulling of the gangster’s hands. Despite the coverage of her bare skin, Thomas had already painted a picture of the markings he had littered all over her. Some kisses of red peeked out of the neckline of the dress while blotches of him smeared alongside the side of her neck. Resting his hefty oversized coat on her shoulders, the scent of whiskey and heat from the night before warmed up her lungs, “Till we meet again, Thomas.” 

With the last quirk of her lips, she ambled out of the room. Y/N paced through the hallway knowing the path out of the door from her early awakening to explore the grand building. The skill of sneaking out from the peripherals of Luca’s men had been useful. While the gangster had fallen fast asleep, the woman managed to scurry around the house. It was not her intention to go through his stuff, but once she stumbled upon a cracked door during the adventure to find her articles of clothing that were thrown around haphazardly, she could not help herself. Questions blared in her head, if only she had not entered the office. She wouldn’t have known she slept with the murderer of her father and her older brother.

“Y/N! Fucking get back here and get this fucking shit off of me! Y/N!” 

[jungcity]

bane of the devil. | v

genre: vampire!jaehyun [angst | fluff | smut]

pairings: jaehyun x female reader

note: bane of the devil deals with themes of physical, mental, and sexual abuse as well as toxic relationships. which may be upsetting for some readers. you are advised not to continue if you feel uncomfortable to these types of plots.

words: 5.2k

“father,

he smelled like

blood,

wrath,

and battlefield

father,

he could rival

the sun

by how bright he burns

but

sunlight is poison

in his veins

sunlight is death in

his eyes

every crevice

every corner

was made to be feared.

then he smiled,

oh, father, he smiled

and whispered

“i am scared of myself, too.”

and that’s when i realized

monsters are lonely too.”

— bane of the devil // v

The blood from your body cascaded down the tiled floors to the shower drain as you harshly rubbed your skin. You did not want to cry. But as you recalled the encounter with the unknown vampire, you could not help but sob in the bathroom.

Dread fired up in your chest. You were so close to being bitten. So close. And even the comfort of Jaehyun’s rescue could not rub off the fear. More so, it had only amplified your agitation. You closed your eyes, skin wrinkling like folded papers by how tight you had shut them close. Tears once again fell down your cheeks, the warmness of it contrasting the cold waters you splashed on your face from the faucet.

Your mind drew the vision of Jaehyun holding the vampire’s heart with his bare hand. A sudden jolt sent your stomach recoiling, causing you to drop on your knees and hurl all your guts out in the toilet bowl. You regurgitated for minutes, saliva tasting like vomit after you were finished. With your knees slightly shaking, you stood up and rinsed your mouth over and over again.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. As expected, the reflection pitifully stared at you; eyes red rimmed, lips blanched, hair as messy as a bird’s nest with little amounts of blood on your neck. The echo of image triggered the fear, and before you knew it, you were crying again.

With shaky breaths, you sauntered up to the shower and discarded all your bloody clothes on the floor. You have no idea about what to do and what you need. A cold shower to wake you up, or a hot one to erase all the trace of vampire blood on your skin? You started to soap your body, the blood coating the white color of it red. With little sobs and hiccups, you tried to lather your hair with shampoo, the smell barely reaching your nostrils.

You only know one thing, you only feel one thing; fear. And the world feels like a blur. You never want to feel this fear again.

Yes, you have no idea how your parents spent their last minutes together. Did they cry? Did they beg? But one thing is for sure, no matter how terrifying vampires could be, no matter how much fear they could inflict to a human being, you will vow not to crumble like this— ever again.

Was this real? Was everything real? It feels like a nightmare. The one where you could truly feel every single thing; fear, paranoia, thrill.

Madame Juana’s voice rang in your mind. All her proposals, all her plans; they appeared to make sense right now.

Despite that, could you truly kill? You stared down at your hands. How could these parts of your body, so delicate looking, could hurt someone? But Jaehyun had done it himself. He pulled out the vampire’s heart with his bare hands only. However, you are not like him. You are a mortal. You are like Lucas.

And by that, you could not be a vampire. But you could be a vampire hunter.

You roughly wiped your tears and breathed deeply. You let the thoughts fade in your mind, until all was blank and you could think clearly again. That’s it. There is no more thinking about it, there is no more succumbing to fear. Tomorrow, you would exactly be how you wanted yourself to be the first time you saw your parents’ dead bodies; fearless.

—

Jaehyun zipped his pants closed, forcing his mind to wander off at some place except here. Except here in Alena’s bed, with her body sprawled naked in her red mattress.

“Leaving so soon?” she purred, crawling like a cat towards Jaehyun.

It had always made him uncomfortable; the naked body of Alena. She was too white, there was not a trace of veins in her body. She almost appeared like a blank white paper, without anything written on it. But unlike all vampires in the world, her skin does not feel chalky. Jaehyun supposed it’s because of his blood running in her system.

Her arms found their way around Jaehyun’s torso, her soft breasts pressing in on his back as she tightened her hold. “Let’s do it again,” she whispered in his ear.

Months ago, Jaehyun would have been salivating like a mad dog by that statement only. He would have been jumping on her bed, discarding all his clothes, to have sex with her over and over again. But times are different. He wasn’t that lucid and naïve vampire any more.

Jaehyun stood up, not caring whether Alena would fall from the bed. “I’m going,” was his impassive words.

“My love, please?” Alena pleaded.

A sudden thought came crashing back in his mind. Lucas’ words. She’s the most powerful vampire right now. Why would you do that? He said. But why is the most powerful vampire in this town begging for Jaehyun’s manhood like it is her lifeline? Why is she sprawled naked on her own bed, touching herself while pleading for Jaehyun to stay?

Sensual moans echoed from Alena’s mouth as she inserted her middle finger in her womanhood. Jaehyun stared at her, dead-panned. Then he walked, propped his knee on the bed, and leaned closer to Alena’s frame. When he was finally looking down straight at her eyes, she sucked her middle finger, tasting herself.

“Fuck yourself,” Jaehyun spat as if she wasn’t already doing that. But he wanted her to feel that he was— not even the slightest bit— interested in all her plays anymore.

In the blink of an eye, Alena was behind Jaehyun. When he turned around to face her, her fist had already collided against Jaehyun’s jaw.

“You were nothing, Jaehyun. I’ve created you,” she said through gritted teeth.

Jaehyun recollected himself from the blow, standing on his feet as proudly as he could muster. “Who gives a fuck, really? You are just a psychopathic bitch—” Then another blow. This time, she hit his stomach. Jaehyun doubled over and crashed against Alena’s vanity.

She sauntered up to him, all naked, and crouched in front of Jaehyun.

“What were you before? A piece-of-shit of a man, who makes a living by riding a motorbike. You are pathetic, Jaehyun. Utterly, hopelessly, pathetic.” Then she spat vampire venom on his face. “Your mother did not even weep when you died.” She almost sing-songed the sentence, tasting every drip of poison laced with it. Jaehyun tried to stand up, but Alena stood up first, pressing her soles against Jaehyun’s cheek. He felt as if his skull would burst open by how much force Alena had drawn out.

“Oh, what about your father? Who had literally thrown a party when he found out that his bastard died in an accident!” Alena laughed so joyously.

Jaehyun gritted his teeth, his anger would burn down this mansion. It would. But the consumption of his blood by Alena had rendered him weak. This is all happening because he foolishly let Alena consume his blood again.

“I am all that you have, Jaehyun.” She pressed her soles further down Jaehyun’s cheek, his head burrowing on her lush carpet.

Baby steps. He heard your voice.

“No.” Jaehyun had bitten his tongue as he tried to let the word fly from his mouth. It was hard to speak in his situation, but he did anyway.

“No?!” Alena snarled before withdrawing her soles from Jaehyun’s face and grabbing his back collar. “No?!” she screamed at his face again. Then she slackened her hold and started to caress Jaehyun’s cheeks. “My love, I am all that you have, right? You are all that I have, too. Remember our promise? My love!” Then she kissed Jaehyun. His mouth didn’t move, but the woman continued her penetration. She grabbed Jaehyun’s hands and used it to grope her own breasts. “Touch me, my love. Fuck me. I am yours.”

Her eyes are frantic as she led Jaehyun’s hands towards her womanhood. “Please!” Her pupils are dilating, fangs elongating.

“No,” Jaehyun uttered.

Alena’s face dropped instantly. Her eyes clear, mouth in a thin line before speaking again. “Get out of my mansion.”

Jaehyun, for the longest time in his life, felt relieved and ready to dash away from the wretched place Alena called home.

“Do whatever you like, Jaehyun. Mingle with all the girls in the world. But you know, we both know, it’s you and me even if the world crumbles to dust.”

Jaehyun did not answer. But he knows, in the deepest parts of his rotten soul, he’s doing everything he could to change that.

Your mother did not even weep when you died. A poisonous smile had spread on his lips as he remembered. Of course, everything Alena had spat out on his face was true. Who would have cried for Jaehyun? He was nothing. A bastard of a business-man. A son of a prostitute. No, he had never insulted his mother’s work. It was her life, it was her body. She could do anything with it. But what Jaehyun looked down at was her ability to love. She’d provided him a roof, food, a chance to study— but all of it was responsibility. It was not out of love.

Jaehyun remembered the times when she would literally sell her own son to her friends for money. Luckily, Jaehyun was old enough to understand everything. So he ran away from home, from everything related to her parents. And started out his own wicked life of chasing death.

His father? Oh, his father was a son-of-a-bitch. There’s no explanation for that character. Jaehyun believes his father’s soul is more vile than that of his. But who could really tell, right?

Jaehyun could sprint away from this mansion as far as he could. But he preferred to walk out of the vicinity. Inside the many rooms of this mansion, there lays his own bedroom, and Alena’s torture room. For him.

He could still feel everything as if it was yesterday. Vampires could not feel pain. Shoot them and they would feel the bullet penetrating their flesh, but the searing pain it brings would feel nothing against their power and immortality. However, Alena had her own ways to hurt Jaehyun. The memories were foggy, but he could make out two clear tube inserted on both his wrists. His blood flowing into a large bucket, with Alena grabbing a glass full of his blood, drinking it like it was the finest of wines.

After those agonizing moments of Alena squeezing him out of blood, he would sleep. For hours. Days. Only waking up to please Alena again. And then the same thing would happen. It went in circles. At first, Jaehyun welcomed it with open arms. In Alena’s embrace, he felt like a king. Sex with her made him feel powerful.

Or so he thought.

As time goes by, with the same scenario happening again and again, Jaehyun felt like a toy. He felt weak. He wanted more. He wanted to be the king. A real one. But that won’t happen if Alena’s alive and using him like a favorite doll.

All the wretchedness he had gone through Alena’s hands were nightmares that visits him whenever he closed his eyes. Then he does not want to be king anymore.

He only wanted to be free.

Alena did not allow that to happen. It was ignominious. But Jaehyun could still remember the way he begged for Alena not to cage him.

She kept him in a dungeon, refusing to give him blood. Jaehyun had reached the point where he had experienced the ‘bleeds’. An incident where a vampire bleeds from his ears and nose by blood abstinence.

After that, Jaehyun did everything to please Alena. He did not dare escape again. But he made himself powerful. He struggled to be strong. Strong enough for Alena to want him like her life depended on his blood. He’s strived and achieved his goal. Now, he was free.

Alena could not kill him— could not harm him. Jaehyun’s blood was powerful in its own eccentricities. He did not know what is it, he could not understand it himself. But ever since he became a vampire, he never felt more human. Vinegar, garlic, rosaries, prayers, silvers— they could not affect him at all. Sunlight could singed him, but not scorch him to death, just enough to enfeeble him. But he remains vulnerable to fire, a stake at the heart, decapitation, or to sangue debolezza which translates to ‘blood weakness’. It is a rare type of vampire disease with an unknown origin, but it is still a way to kill vampires nonetheless.

And consuming Jaehyun’s blood gives Alena the same power. She won’t dispose someone as precious as him. It won’t kill her if she ever did, but Alena has been a woman born with an intense penchant for power. Jaehyun provides her that ascendancy.

Jaehyun only needs to stay alive until someone, until you, kills Alena. With the thought of your fierceness and determination of finding the vampire who killed your parents, Jaehyun took a lingering glance at the moon, before sprinting towards home and towards you.

—

“Hey, Johnny.”

You sat on the bed, phone pressed against your ear. You heard the rummaging of Johnny’s things before he answered.

“Hi, Y/N!” He greeted.

The optimism in his voice made you uncertain for a moment. You have decided to tell— lie— to Johnny about your plans regarding Madame Juana’s offers. This is what you have been waiting for all your life. A chance to know what truly happened to your parents and avenge their deaths. Johnny need not bother himself about it. You do not have to tell him. To keep him safe. To keep him sane. He would never believe you, anyways.

After minutes of being unforthcoming, you finally told him about your plan.

“Is it really needed? Like… would you really fail if you don’t join that trip?”

You sighed, trying to muster indifference. “Yes, Johnny. You know how it’s done. I don’t even know why it’s a three-month long trip! Gosh!” Just right after the words slid out of your mouth, you bit your lower lip as hard as you can. They were right when they said lies slides easily and more smoothly than truths.

“Three-month trip?! Is that really necessary?”

You heard the apprehension coating Johnny’s question. This won’t be easy for him. Not when he took the mother and father figure ever since your parents had died. But you also know that he would let you go at the end of the discussion. You just need to convince him that you will be fine.

“According to my prof, yes.” You cleared your throat, preparing yourself to tell yet another lie. “Oh, and I’ve already asked Haechan’s mom to sign my parent’s consent.”

Johnny sighed from the other line, “Alright, then. I still don’t understand why it’s a three-month long trip, but keep me updated, m’kay? I want to know everything. The hotel, the details—”

“Copy that, John. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay…” Johnny wavered, “Do you need any money?”

A certain sadness enveloped you. You are absolutely aware of your tightness when it comes to financial matters, and you won’t squeeze Johnny’s pockets for this ‘trip’. You would have to rely on your and your parents’ fund for assistance.

“No, John. I’m okay. Just… keep the money for yourself.” You tried to sound positive as possible. “When are you coming back, though?”

“I still don’t know. And I won’t tell you the dates. It’s a surprise!”

You laughed. A big part of you has been missing your big brother’s goofy side. It’s been months since you last saw him. “Just keep safe, Johnny. That is all I want.”

“You too, little sis. Take care of yourself.”

For hours, you’ve talked. The fear that has been nagging on you seemed to vanish as Johnny threw banters from the other line. You miss having him around. You miss the normalcy of life before seeing a bloodied Jaehyun in your doorstep.

Johnny had bid you good night, reminding you to take care and inform him about the details of your educational trip.

Three months is a long time. Your professors, for sure, won’t give you that much of a consideration even if you make an excuse letter. Nevertheless, there was no harm in trying. So you sat on your bed, your laptop’s screen blinding you.

“Ma’am and Sir…”

You started to type in your excuse letter, squinting your eyes as you skimmed the words for any loopholes and grammatical errors. You’ve decided to tell your professors the same thing you told Johnny. A trip. Family trip. Reunion. Or… maybe you could just tell them that you are currently arranging your documents that you would need to migrate to a different country. Migrating is a hectic process, it’s more believable than a reunion. No family would reunite for three months.

As the printer did its job, you waited with a sweaty forehead. Am I really doing this? You bit your lip as you stared at the letter. This is insane. But life requires a little bit of insanity. After folding the letter inside an envelope, you decided to call your friends. Another lie for another person.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Mark asked as you told him about the three-month trip that you’d also used as an excuse to obtain Johnny’s approval. Of course, you didn’t tell him about the real reasons. But Mark is a kind and respectful man, he won’t barge in your business especially when you make it clear that you won’t entertain questions.

“It’s not. I just really need to unwind. You know. Find myself.” You forced a chuckle. Losing yourself would have been the better description for your trip. But, of course, you didn’t tell Mark about that.

“I think that’s… cool. Three months is a long time, and I’m gonna miss you. But, you should go for it. I do hope you find whatever you’re looking for in your trip, Y/N.”

“Mark, you’re the sweetest.”

Of course, after talking to the kindest person you’ve ever met, you need to talk to the brat-est person God allowed you to meet in your lifetime— Haechan.

“I don’t believe this is a trip to unwind,” he said. And you could literally see his dead-panned expression from the other line. “Tell me, you’re running away with that Jaehyun guy.”

“Haechan! You’re ridiculous!” You hissed, but forcing yourself not to laugh nonetheless. “I’m serious, though. It really is a trip to unwind and find myself.” No, it’s not.

“Whatever you say. Just… take care, you bimbo.”

“Do not call me bimbo!”

“Bimbo!” he shouted. You winced and pulled the phone away. Too late for that. Then his tone changed to that of a serious one. “Call me, call us, whenever you need someone to talk to. Take care. And please! Return! I know Jaehyun’s— oh wait— who would take care of Jaehyun, then?”

Haechan’s question caught you off guard. No, no, no. Think, Y/N. Think. Sweats literally formed in your forehead as you think about whatever reason to tell Haechan.

“He’s… well… his relatives had known about his current situation. And they… they called me! Told me they’d pick up Jaehyun, then they did! It’s heart-wrenching to see them reunite after all these years.” You fake a sob.

“Wow, that’s amazing. I’m glad he’s found a family that would take care of him.”

“Yeah…” you played with your pillow. Not being able to see two of your most precious friends sent a sudden jolt of sadness to wash through you. Haechan, Mark, and Johnny are your tether to the real life. Turning your back against them means completely enveloping the mysteries laid for you by a witch, a vampire hunter, and a vampire.

“Y/N, I’m gonna miss you,” Haechan declared.

“I’m gonna miss you, too.” You nodded and wiped the sides of your eyes. Then Haechan dropped the phone call after saying good bye.

You stood up, the full moon hanging and glaring at you from the heavens. So beautiful. So captivating. Yet so portentous. You pursed your lips and shook your head before departing your room to the kitchen.

The cold water jug bit on your palms. It’s one a.m. and Jaehyun was still nowhere to be found. Where has he gone to? Yet you aren’t sure if you are ready to see his face after all that has happened.

You checked your social medias and scrolled down your feed. To be a reminder that you are still you. Normal. Somehow. When a loud bang of the door startled you from your seat. Before you could stand up, Jaehyun’s frame greeted you in the kitchen.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. He wasn’t looking bedraggled. He looked alive, and well. Despite the blood that still adorns his skin and clothes.

“We need to go.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Pack your things and let’s go to Juana.” He started to pace, hands on his waists.

“I don’t understand. Where have you been?”

He drew in a halt and stared at you, “None of your business.”

You raised a brow. “Well? After you left me in the middle of the street, bloody and sca—” You shut your mouth close. No, you won’t admit that you were scared. Jaehyun raised his own brow, waiting for your next words. “Bloody and alone— I, at least, have the rights to know where were you.” Then you straightened your back and pretended to tower him.

“Trust me, you won’t like the answer.”

“Am I in danger?” You fisted your palms and waited for his answer. Jaehyun, for a second, didn’t know what to say. It was clear by the way he opened and closed his mouth.

“No. It’s me. He was coming for me.”

“Why?”

Jaehyun sighed deeply. “No more questions, Y/N. Let’s just go!” He hissed.

No more questions? How could he? As far as you could remember, he was the one who practically told Madame Juana to give you enough time to decide. And now he’s here, all jumpy, asking you to pack your things, giving you no chance to ask why.

“You will explain to me everything once I’ve finished packing.” You clenched your jaw, pointing your forefinger at his face. Jaehyun attempted to speak, but you have already made your way to your own room.

Two luggages were what you pulled from your bedroom to the living room. It contains your clothes and necessities. Jaehyun was sitting, freshly bathed, on the sofa. He eyes your luggages and then you.

“Seriously? That many?” He quipped.

You frowned and stared at your luggages. “Do you have the slightest idea how many womanly necessities I have to bring?”

“No, I don’t.” He shrugged.

You ignored his scrutinizing. He is a man, a vampire one at that. He won’t ever understand how it is to be a woman. “Then stop your scrutiny and focused on your— wait a minute. Why haven’t you packed your things yet?” You raised a brow while locking your luggages. After that, you roamed your eyes inside the house and sauntered up to the windows to check the locks.

“I don’t have any clothes other than what you’ve bought for me.”

Oh, yes. Jaehyun is a homeless guy without any relatives. The sudden thought made you inquisitive. Where is his parents? Are they still alive? But you shook your head, erasing your questions.

“Well, that’s a problem.” As you finished checking the locks of every possible way for a robber to enter your house, you have finally focused on Jaehyun.

He leaned on the sofa, eyeing you. “I don’t think so. Remember our deal?”

“Oh, please! You didn’t even want to join us—”

“But I did. I would.”

You bit your lips, calculating the cost if you ever decide to buy Jaehyun his own necessities. It would surely take up a big chunk off your money.

“We won’t be able to eat at the villa if I dare buy you everything you need.”

“That’s your problem, not mine. I don’t eat, Y/N.” He had the audacity to roll his eyes at you then.

Right. Vampires do not eat.

You straightened your back and leaned on the window frame, ignoring Jaehyun’s snarky comments. “Where have you been, Jaehyun?” Then you crossed your arms to tell him you would not back down unless he tells you what really happened.

“Alena,” he replied incisively.

You gulped. You weren’t expecting that name to roll off his mouth. “That’s unexpected.” Trying to sound as apathetic as possible, you focused your attention in checking the locks again. “I thought you’d burn the—” You took a deep breath, “— the vampire’s body.”

“I dumped him exactly where he came from.”

Your brows knotted instantly, reckoning his words. “Are you saying Alena sent him? For you?” This time, you had stopped pretending to check the window locks, and faced Jaehyun with inquisitiveness etched on your face.

“Partially. He sent him for me… and for you.”

You sat down yourself to the nearest sofa and tried to recollect your thoughts. Why would she do that? “For me? I don’t understand.”

“She knows I’m living here, Y/N. And she’s not happy about it.” Jaehyun pursed his lips. You were absolutely certain that he was hiding something from you.

“Oh, heavens. I— I don’t know what to say… I… Jaehyun, she’s your fiancée, right? Perhaps she got it all wrong. We’re not doing something disgraceful!” You waved your hands to the air to shake off your trepidation. Well, that’s not exactly true. On his first night in your house, he’d already kissed you.

The look Jaehyun gave you told you he was thinking about the kiss too. But he shrugged and brushed it off. “Yeah, we’re not doing something.”

“I think you should explain it to her…?”

Jaehyun snorted, “Y/N, didn’t you hear me earlier? I’m trying to severe our betrothal. I don’t give two fucks about what she thinks.”

“And why is that?”

He went silent for a moment, his eyes clear. As if remembering some horrible scene in his mind. “Do you really think I’d tell you everything? C’mon. We’re on our what? One-half step of being friends.”

“I just want to understand why would she send a vampire to harm us. Especially, me.” You pointed at yourself. “Well… perhaps she’s known about our plan.” Heavens. The thought was too terrifying for you to bear.

“No. She didn’t tell me anything about that.” Jaehyun stood up then, “So we better get moving before she sends her vampires again to kill us. Earlier was already a warning.”

When you attempted to speak, Jaehyun raised a finger to stop you. “Please, baby. No more questions.”

So you shut your mouth with a hope that you could do the same with your thudding heart.

On the way to Madame Juana’s mansion, you have separated the money for Jaehyun’s needs. In the end, you have decided to buy him his necessities. You supposed it won’t be that costly, considering his nature. Clothes are all he needs.

“You’ve decided the right thing, Y/N.”

Even in the stark of dawn, Madame Juana was ready to accept you in her home. She looked immaculate as always, her silk robes hugging her frame as she greeted you.

“I… hope so.” You smiled at her, heart beating loudly for what lays behind all your decisions. Jaehyun remained leaning on one of the pillar inside Madame Juana’s hall, observing you and the witch.

“To be honest, some part of me didn’t expect to see you at all. That’s why I’m so glad to see you, darling.” She caressed your cheek like how mothers do to their children. You fought the urge to lean on her hand, suddenly remembering your mother with a twinge of pain in your chest.

“Well, this is my only chance to know who killed my parents. I couldn’t simply let this slip.”

Jaehyun had convinced you not to tell Madame Juana about your encounter with the vampire earlier. He nagged and reminded you to be more careful especially to friendly faces. And now that you are walking through a path cloaked with darkness. Those were his exact words. You would’ve laughed by the way he delivered it, but he was so serious that you resulted in gulping down your chuckles instead.

Madame smiled. In that moment, you wanted to ask her if she could enchant Hubert already. It’s not like you would run away from her and bail on your deal. But an uncertainty made its way on you. You still have no idea about her true nature; her patience and her attitude. It would be careless to ask such favors. Especially to a witch.

“Excellent, darling.” Then she pulled her hand away, “I’ll get ready. Mr. Jones will—”

“I… still wanna talk to you about some things.” You took a quick glance at Jaehyun, who raised his brow at you, “Privately.” Then he frowned and walked away, fishing something in his pockets. You could only pray that he won’t pry with his sharp hearing.

“Go on, Y/N. What is it?”

You hesitated for a moment, before sighing deeply and focusing your eyes at Madame’s own. “Can you… I mean, I want to block Jaehyun from reading my mind.”

Madame’s brow shot up to her forehead, the side of her mouth twitching upwards. “Interesting favor, darling. But understandable. I know how insufferable it is for someone to infiltrate your mind without permission.” She held the sides of your forehead with both her hands, “This might hurt a little. Like a migraine.”

You shut your eyes closed and readied yourself for the pain. Enchantments rolled off her tongue. It sounded like Latin mixed with a language you haven’t heard before. A grumble of pain echoed from you as you felt the ache of the magic. It was exactly like what she told you; a migraine, but a sharp one.

“Done,” Madame stated.

You felt the absence of her fingers, resulting on you clutching a handful of your hair to prevent the pulsating pain. As you grip your hair with your hand, you lifted the other one to tell Madame that you still have one remaining thing to say.

“One more thing, Madame.”

“Now, now. What is it, darling? Are you going to ask me to block your heart from falling in love with the vampire?”

At her bold statement, your eyes widened, heart somersaulting inside your chest. “No!” You shouted, voice bouncing off the walls of her mansion.

A low chuckle resonated from the Madame’s throat. “Don’t be so upset and defensive, little dove. It’s written all over you—”

It’s dangerous to cut off a witch’s sentence, but you could not bear to hear the end of her statement. “I actually wanted to tell you that I want to become a vampire hunter.”

Madame’s grinning face changed to that of a surprised one. But she quickly regained herself, her grin spreading wider than the last time. “Then I guess my villa isn’t the right place for you. But the Academy.”

previous | next

[welllpthisishappening]

21 for the kiss prompts. because I am me LOL

Alright, so, full disclosure, this is not CS fic. I was going to write CS fic for this. i was! I had this vaguely angsty Emma gets hurt and Killian loses his mind thing happening, but then—I didn’t write that. Instead, here’s Will Scarlet gets hurt and Belle French loses her mind and it’s hockey. It’s 2,000 words! I don’t know how that happened. Anyway, the prompt here was “bloody kiss” and I love Will Scarlet with the force of a thousand suns. If you guys want to send more kiss prompts, I’m still waiting for people to respond to my emails.

“You’re mad.”

“Your powers of deduction are truly unparalleled. What gave me away, exactly?”

Will bit his lower lip. Let his teeth dig down until he tasted blood and, well—more blood, he supposed. Six stitches later, though, and there wasn’t much blood left on his face, just a pair of narrow eyes doing their best to glare a hole through his cranium and he didn’t think that was entirely possible. 

Biology had never been his strong suit, really. Unless you counted hauling off and punching some rat-faced bastard on the Caps who couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut about a possible offsides that had maybe happened two periods before and they’d been winning and it was fine. Totally fine. This was his job. Punching and bruising up assholes. Just a little bit, to remind them who they were playing and what was on the line and—

It was entirely possible Belle’s eyes were not entirely human. 

His face flushed. Heat raced through either one of his cheeks, threatening what he could only assume was the structural integrity of his own eyes because Will couldn’t remember when he’d decided to widen them, exactly. Just that they were starting to dry out a little bit and Ariel was going to kill him. 

She’d made that very clear post-game. 

There might be a two-person line to wreak havoc, now. 

“You get this little pinch between your eyebrows,” Will said, leaning forward until the top of his head nearly hit the bottom of her chin, “makes it easy to tell.”

Belle huffed. Crossed her arms. Nearly punched him in the face, which would have been something close to the peak of irony at this point, and then maybe Ariel wouldn’t threaten to kill him again. No, that was wishful thinking. 

It’d be a miracle if they were allowed uptown later. Ariel had probably sent out an APB, or whatever the culinary equivalent of that was. No admittance until the blood had dried off his forehead and he laid prostrate at her feet, begging forgiveness for the error of his ways. 

Like hell, he would.

This was his job. He was the—

Fuck, maybe he was a goon. He hadn’t scored in a while. Not even a secondary assist, or anything. Skating at the edge of the blue line on a fledgling power play did not an All-Star make, and, well, now that he thought about it, maybe Will had started jawing first. There were mumbled insults, at least. 

From him, specifically. More than once, actually. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be back here, y’know.”

The pinch got—

Pinchier. Deeper. Like a tiny, little crevice between what Will was starting to realize were meticulously cared-for eyebrows and maybe he should get a CT scan or an MRI or something because it had taken him this long to notice she was also wearing his jersey. Too-long sleeves grazed the slight bend of her knuckles, looking as if she was actively stopping herself from fisting her hands at her side and that thought wasn’t supposed to make him smile. 

Still. 

Will’s lips tugged up. His eyes thinned. Nose crinkled ever so slightly. Something that had been growing increasingly familiar in the last few months of the season jumped between his ribs, like little flutters of wholly imaginary wings, and she kept wearing his jersey. Kept coming to games, and that was good because they’d gotten past the labels and expectations, all of which were sky-high on the NHL’s most romance-prone hockey team. 

God, maybe he wasn’t just a goon. Maybe he was a complete and total asshole. 

“This is Cap’s fault,” Will announced, and he’d been ready for the pinch. He was less prepared for those eyebrows he was starting to become a tad obsessed with to soar up Belle’s forehead, past the swoop of bangs that regularly messed with his cognizant reasoning. 

She scoffed. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No, but maybe when we get back to—”

“I will kick you in the shins, Scarlet, I swear to every God you can think of.”

He tried not to deflate. Really, he did. But his name seemed to crack out of her, punching the bridge of his nose like Belle had actually pulled her right arm back and her scoff was more like an exhale that time. That had never happened. 

Even before. Before the labels and the attempts at setting up Killian and watching that entire season and how often he stared longing at Emma, before Regina and Locksley continued to be parents extraordinaire and the jealousy started to eat away at him. Slowly, but surely and he never talked about that, but he figured she knew because Belle knew everything and—

“Bet you twenty bucks you could name more gods than I could.”

Another sigh. A tilt of her head. It made her bangs shift. He wasn’t sure what was happening in his chest. Expanding and contracting, a painful rhythm that hurt way more than the stitches or the shitty metaphors and he was glad she’d snuck into the locker room. Will didn’t want her anywhere else. 

Naming conventions, aside. 

“I’m sorry—” “—I love you.”

He almost fell over. Impressive, since Will was still sitting down and his feet didn’t entirely reach the floor from that position. His jaw dropped. He hated that. Partially because it hurt and mostly because he should have been way cooler, wanted to be way cooler, but there were dots of red on his girlfriend’s cheeks and teeth digging into her lower lip, now, and he resolutely ignored the ache in his calves when he slid back to his feet. 

Curling an arm around her waist, he didn’t think much about the precise way he yanked her. Forward. Directly into his chest and that didn’t leave much room to bend his knees, but Will was less concerned with specifics and the staging of this than actually getting to the good part. 

The kissing part. 

Plus, Belle pushed up on her toes. So, that helped. 

He groaned. Loudly, like embarrassingly loud. As soon as her head tilted and he could get his mouth on hers and they were all hands and lips and whatever she was doing with her tongue, tracing the lip he’d been so intent on biting through just a few moments before. Bending his knees did give Will some more leverage. To pull her even closer, moving his arm and ignoring her soft protests. 

Most of them died when he managed to get a hand under her left thigh. 

She groaned. Something to be said about symmetry, Will assumed. Although he also didn’t really...care. About the saying, mostly. Not when he was melting and falling, dropping into the deep end of a pool that was a shock to his system and the best thing that had ever happened to him and she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Bar none. 

Especially when she did that tongue thing. 

Closing his eyes, he knew he had to tilt his head. Had to breathe and stay conscious and he didn’t want to think about the medical requirements of a professional hockey player at a time like that, but he knew consistent awareness of his surroundings was probably fairly important and the roar of triumph blaring through his brain made that a little difficult. Breathing would have to be enough for now. 

“I can’t—” Belle’s shoulders heaved. Fingers dragged across the back of Will’s neck and he had to admit he was fairly impressed with her balance. Her right foot wasn’t on the ground. “Shit, I—” He pulled her lip between his teeth, tried to memorize the next hitch of her breath and he was about five-point two-three seconds away from losing his mind. Rocking his hips up was a very bad idea. He did it anyway. “Babe, I can’t think when you do that.”

Everything was spinning. He was spinning. No, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t spinning. He was standing and touching and there was barely any color left in Belle’s eyes. 

Pride prickled at the back of Will’s brain. Until pain joined the fray, making a glorious and unwelcome return at the precise moment he realized there was moisture on his cheek again. Warm and red and Ariel was going to kill him. 

“Cap and Emma were making out in the hallway,” Will explained, “pre-game. Nothing they don’t normally do, and I don’t even think they knew I was there.”

“Is any of this supposed to make me feel better?”

He nodded. “I love you, too. Like it’s ridiculous how in love with you I am.”

Silence. As much as there could be in a locker room, at least. Water fell from shower heads a few hundred feet away, the low murmur of questions and Lucas-approved answers, squeaking sneakers and clacking heels, and the familiar sound of wheels rolling across linoleum as the equipment hampers moved down the hall. 

Will took a deep breath. 

Slowly, through his nose. Keeping the nerves off his face was harder than he expected, and even more ridiculous than whatever he’d just proclaimed because Belle had proclaimed first and it was entirely possible they were both colossal idiots. That put them on even ground, though. 

He appreciated that. 

“Why were you mad, ma moitié?”

There was the pinch, again. “Why do you think?” Will shook his head, brushing hair away from her eyes and he knew he didn’t imagine that sigh, either. Softer. More content. All that previous even ground. “Because I—” Belle started, and the color hadn’t left her face yet. “I know you think you’ve got to be this guy. Out there defending, not just the goal but the people and that’s...I’m super into that.”

“But?”

“But it makes me so nervous, I could spit.’

Will genuinely had no idea what noise he made. It might not have been human, really. Tearing out of his throat, his eyes bugged and he bent over without really meaning to, forehead finding Belle’s shoulder like that was the only reasonable landing place. He was still bleeding. Or bleeding again, whatever. 

“Say that again,” he mumbled. Into her jersey. His jersey. Whatever, part two. 

“Spit,” she repeated, making sure to enunciate every letter, “because I know you can hold your own in a fight, and that’s how you think you make a difference on this team, but—”

“It is that’s why.”

“Was my shin-kicking threat not threatening?”

He kissed exactly where his lips were. “Not really, no.”

“‘Cuz I’ll totally do it, I swear. To all those gods and goddesses and then they’ll descend from on high and tell you that they also think you’re an idiot who should know that letting some rat on the ice get under your skin is exactly what they’re trying to do. Plus, it’s way better when you check them, y’know?”

Lifting his head didn’t hurt. Made him a little nervous, anxiety churning his gut and this was not the way Will thought this would happen. Maybe he could get Belle to kick Killian too. For the making out. And the unspoken frustration. He was definitely an idiot. “Is it just?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t have to. You’re very easy to read.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. More. “That so?’

“You think it’s super attractive when I check another dude.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to. Also, I love you.”

“You mentioned that before, yeah.”

“And I am sorry for freaking you out.” Sigh number three wasn’t quite as resigned as the others, but it still left guilt rising in the back of Will’s throat and every single inch of him froze. As soon as Belle leaned around him, grabbed a far-too-large handful of gauze and started wiping blood off his cheek. “That’s way too much, babe.”

“Ariel can deal.”

“Ya gonna kick her too?”

“I’ll consider it,” Belle mumbled, back on both feet again. For, like, two seconds. Before she pushed back up on her toes, kissed the corner of Will's mouth, and added, “Don’t do that to me again, ok?”

“Aye, aye, Cap.”

He had much better reflexes than her. Pulling her back to his side before either one of her shoes could land a blow was easy and bordering almost close to joyful and that was a strange thing for him to be, but it was also easy and somehow even more simple and Ariel let them into the restaurant that night. They stayed for all of fifteen minutes. 

And Will told Belle he loved her once every five minutes on the cab ride back to his apartment. 

He timed it, and everything. Just to make sure the color stayed in her cheeks.

[shadow--writer]

Is This Love or am I Dreaming?

😌 woke up today and chose violence (aka I stayed up writing this and cried)

@dela-png​ and I were talking about Maeve and Lucas and what they’d fight about and well this wouldn’t leave my smol brain, so enjoy 💕💕💕💕

Maeve x Lucas, angst, 2.5k words. --Lucas reversed ending-ish--

TW/tags (”real” triggers will be marked!): brief description of an injury, overworking, neglect, fighting, a whole lotta angst, and god I hope I got his character right

(title is from this song, it’s really good, give it a listen!)

~~~~

The candles were burning low. With them her energy. He wasn’t back yet. Of course he wasn’t. She knew him. Sometimes he’d come back late.

Other times he’d fall asleep at his desk leaving her alone in an empty bed.

She rubbed her arms, the summer so hot the heat was almost sticking to her skin. Her bangs were plastered across her forehead with her sweat. It had been a long day in the infirmary. She was tired. She was lonely. 

She missed him. He wasn’t gone, but...in a way he was. She missed him so much it hurt. 

She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She knew if she focused too much on it she’d get a headache. This amount of stress wasn’t good for you but… 

She looked away from the papers spread out on the small desk a few feet away from her...their bed. It used to be everytime she thought of it being their room and their bed and their space she got butterflies. But he was gone so often it had become hers, hadn’t it?

She pushed herself away from the desk, going to get ready for bed. It was a little late for a bath, she’d probably take one in the morning. Sleeping was going to be a miserable experience but...

It wasn’t like he was around to care.

Anger snapped up at her stomach like a vise. She knew he had a lot to do. She knew he had a lot of responsibilities. She knew how important this was to him.

But...wasn’t she important too? Didn’t he care about her? 

He said he did but...she didn’t know anymore and it hurt. 

The door to their room creaked open, Maeve freezing in her tracks.

It was late. Normally he’d be asleep at his desk. Normally she’d be asleep. Alone.

They met eyes. 

“Lucas,” she said, the musical tone of her voice gone. In its place was something flat and unfeeling.

It hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

“...Maeve,” he murmured, trying to hide the new injury on his arm. 

Her anger returned, roaring with a vengeance. 

“Sit down,” she said, her tone offering no place for arguing. He was covered in ash, probably went to check out the fire that happened earlier that week. No one was hurt, but a bunch of houses were lost.

He looked how she felt. 

He followed her orders, falling into a chair with a ‘thump’. His hair hung over his eyes, slowly losing its curl due to sweat and ash. He was going to need a bath too.

She gathered her bandages, herbs and medicines. This was not the time for anything fancy.

But she couldn’t stop the rage she felt when she looked at him.

She tugged her desk chair over to him, sitting down and focusing on the wound. 

His skin was warm and tacky with sweat. Blood oozed down the large cut. She swiped a damp rag over it. A muscle twitched in his cheek but he didn’t say anything.

“Welcome home,” she said, not hiding the bitterness in her tone. He deserved to hear it. He deserved her anger. “I missed you.”

He only grunted in response, fueling the ebbing, festering anger.

“You’ve got to stop this.” Every time. Every time he’d come back to her it was for an injury. She knew he didn’t trust easily. She knew she was his go to for help.

But it stung when your boyfriend would only come to see you when he was hurt. 

Another grunt in response. 

He wasn’t listening to her. Again. 

As usual.

She tightened the bandage with a little more force than necessary, trying to keep from lashing out. 

It fucking hurt. It hurt so much it was hard to breathe. 

“You need to stop overworking yourself,” she said, trying to force her voice to be soft, fingers brushing his before falling into her lap. Her feet were bare and curled around one another. She felt alone and vulnerable.

“There’s so much I have to do,” he replied.

“And? Why can’t they give you a break? Haven’t you done enough on your own? Why not let someone else take the burden?” she snapped, his eyes meeting hers again.

She pissed him off but she didn’t care. Let him be angry. Let him feel an inkling of what she did. He deserved it for what he was doing.

Not only to himself, but her too.

“I can’t. You know this,” he spat.

Her hands trembled in clenched fists. “I don’t. I don’t know that. Because in my eyes, you have a whole fucking team of people and yet you do everything yourself.”

“Because I can’t trust anyone else to do it.”

“Then why do you even have them?!”

He gritted his teeth. “Because I need them.”

She breathed in sharply. “And yet, you don’t use them.”

“These are not their jobs!”

“THEN WHAT ARE THEIR JOBS?” She couldn’t stop her voice from rising to a yell. She couldn’t stop herself from jumping to her feet. The chair fell back with a crash but she didn’t care. “If they are so useful then what do they do?!” 

She was losing control. Her hands warmed. Her eyes flashed. Her nose burned with unshed tears.

But she did not care. 

“They help me, Maeve! They are there to support the people!”

“While you do all the heavy lifting because you can’t let anyone in?!”

“It’s dangerous and you know it.”

“Lucas, they are your CONSUL. If you can’t trust them to do even the simplest of tasks, then why do you have them?! What is their use?”

“Maeve we are not going to have this conversation again!”

“Maybe if you just listen to me we wouldn’t be discussing this for the hundredth time!” 

He growled, deep and low in his throat. She snapped her teeth back, balling her hands into fists. His imitation tactics would not work on her.

“Lucas I am here to help you, they are here to help you. So let us!”

“This is my job Maeve! I can’t ask you to take the burden!” He was yelling now. They both were. They probably woke half the palace up by now.

She. Did. Not. Care. 

“Then why am I here?!” she snapped. He looked like she had slapped him. Her eyes burned with tears. 

“Because I let you be.” His voice was low. It was angry. It was a command. 

And it hurt. 

She stepped back, pushing the chair back with her steps. He didn’t look at her, just held a hand on his new bandage. “Thanks...for fixing me up.”

She didn’t reply, just let the tears roll down her face as she looked at the ground.

“I’m going to get back to work.”

He started walking to the door. He almost made it by the time she spoke up again. She was done playing his game. She was done fighting with him. 

She was done sleeping alone. 

“I’ll leave.”

He froze, one hand on the doorknob. “What?”

She forced her head up, showing her tears with a streak of pride. If she couldn’t convince him with words, then she would with actions.

“You heard me. I’ll leave.”

He turned to look at her, fury barely being contained in his eyes. Those two words caused a dam to break inside him. 

Good. 

“Why? Because you don’t love me anymore? So you’re gonna leave like everyone else? Now that I don’t give you what you want you’re just gonna walk out on me?”

His words cut deep. She actually gasped from the pain.

“You...you think I’m here for something other than the fact that I love you?” she gasped out. “You think I’m here for something?!” She couldn’t stop her fury.

It hit her in waves.

First it was cool, then her body trembled and warmed. 

Then she was on fire.

“You think I’m here for some object? For some thing?” 

“Maeve. I...no I’m…” he seemed to be at a loss for words, floundering. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Lucas I am here because I love you! But I do not want to be your doctor.” She swiped at her tears. “Do you know...how much it hurts to only see your love when they’re hurt? Having the only conversations with them be arguments? Do you know how much it hurts to watch them kill themselves because they can’t let you in?!”

“Maeve-”

“I am going to say this once.” She stood with her legs spread wide. She stood to feel powerful. She stepped closer to him, her strides filled with purpose.

“If you do not get your shit together, then I will leave. If you do not listen to people, if you do not let them in. If you don’t take a break and trust people I will walk out that door!” Her voice snapped over the last word in her sentence.

Cracking and shattering. 

She was a mess. She was dizzy. She was angry. The heat of the summer made her clothes cling to her. One of the legs on her pants was rolled up to her knee, her shirt was falling off her shoulder. Her hair fell in ringlets around her shoulders. There was blood on her shirt. 

Sweat dripped down the back of her neck, she only felt the all encompassing heat of her deep buried magic.

She did not care.

“I am here because I love you. I am here because I trust and care about you. But if you can’t trust and care about me back, then I will save myself the heartache and go.”

She was fighting back a sob. 

She turned her back to him, not wanting him to see her tears get heavier. They fell like rain. She didn’t stop them, nor did she want to. 

She bent down and picked up the chair, moving it next to the one he sat in. 

The world spun. Her chest ached.

She missed him so much. She loved him so much. She cared, loved, felt about him so strongly it cut deep. 

Like a festering wound left untreated, she stood there. Her skin burned, she bit her cheek to keep from breaking down right there. She wouldn’t. Not while he was still there. 

He stood in silence behind her, she could feel him. Shifting back and forth. Waiting. Watching. 

She moved to go to...their...bathroom. If he wasn’t going to leave, then she would move away so she wouldn’t have to see him. 

He grabbed her hand, fingers closing around hers gently. So gently. A movement and she’d be out of his grasp. 

She stopped, bringing her foot back to stand still.

He squeezed her hand once.

She waited a moment before squeezing back. 

They stood in silence, hands clasped, for a few heartbeats.

The blood roaring in her ears slowed. His breathing soon became all that she heard. 

He let go of her hand, fingers ghosting up the length of her arm. She felt goosebumps erupt on her skin.

His touch was so light and so gentle she wanted to break down. She wanted to break down with how much she missed it. 

His hand brushed her shoulder, not bothering to adjust the shirt falling down. She almost gasped with how cold his fingertips were. He held his hand against the side of her neck, and against her better judgment she leaned into his touch.

“...I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

“I know,” she responded, choking on the words. 

His hand dropped from her neck as he looped his arms around her waist, tugging her into his chest. 

She didn’t look up at him, just leaned into his embrace and cried.

She could feel his tears as they fell onto her hair, and they stood in silence together. 

He was a mess and probably smeared ash all over her with his touch. Ash and ink from working on something. 

Hell she didn’t even know.

She let out a small sob, leaning back into him. She missed him. His touch. Her skin burned. “Hold me,” she whispered. “Please, Lucas please hold me.” She was begging. 

She ached for him. 

She wanted him.

Please.

It was a desperate plea but all she wanted was him. 

He leaned closer, kissing the top of her head as they cried. “Please. Lucas. Please,” she whispered, repeating it over

And over

And over

And over again.

Falling for a man like this was never easy. She hated how neglectful he was.

But in quiet moments like this, none of it seemed to matter.

It wasn’t until her legs gave out and became wobbly that he moved again.

He scooped her up, cradling her close. She couldn’t stop her tears once they started, pouring out all her loneliness and hurt out. 

He only softly hushed her, rocking her back and forth and he settled her into the sheets. 

He shifted as if he was going to leave and she grabbed his hand, hiccuping. She was going to hate herself in the morning but she didn’t care.

“Don’t go. Don't go please. Please, please don’t go,” she cried, the tears falling faster. “Lucas stay with me.”

His name on her lips stopped him again. He sat back down, back to her, her hand still on his arm.

His next word was slow. Slow, thick, emotional, wanting. “Okay.”

And he stayed.

He took off his boots, turning over to bundle her up in his arms. His eyes were red and blotchy. His hands trembled around her, her shirt rising up. She didn’t care, fisting the fabric of his shirt in her quivering hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her hair. “I’m so sorry.” He repeated it, each time his voice cracking.

“I know. I know,” she whispered back, trying to get closer. Closer. It wasn’t enough. It would never be close enough. “I miss you,” she whispered, lips brushing his collar bone. “Missed you here with me. I miss you so much Lucas. It hurts. Why does it hurt so much?”

He didn’t respond, just held her closer, whispering soft intelligible things to her hair. 

She sniffled, kissing his neck. He tasted like salt. He had smudges of ash up his jaw. He probably got smudges on her and her clothes.

“You need a bath,” she murmured.

“I know,” he rumbled. “You need one too.”

She smiled, tears spilling from her eyes again. She missed their talks. Jokes. Flirtations. He had gotten quiet with his new position. 

She missed his voice. 

“Is that an invitation?”

He chuckled, toying with the ends of her hair. “And if it is?”

She kissed his neck again, her breath warm against his skin. His office probably had a drafty window. “If it’s an invitation.” Another kiss, this one made him squirm a little. “My answer is yes.”

He didn’t respond, but she could feel him smile.

He pressed a kiss into her hair, and they settled into silence.

She knew this was going to be hard.

She knew he wasn’t going to be easy to get along with.

She knew he wasn’t going to listen to her all the time.

She knew she was just as hard-headed and stubborn as he was.

But in that moment all she could feel was how much she loved him. In that soft, emotionally charged moment, it was all she wanted. 

And sometimes, that was enough.