#also shout out to everyone who posted into the woods lyrics in the tags when I posted the og image

[jq37]

And all of you go into the woods.

Redraw of this for today’s art practice. 

[psycheswritings]

Nothing’s Fair in Love and War - Nine

Title: Nothing’s Fair in Love and War

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Daphne Scott (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, a little misogyny and a lot of angst.

Word Count: 4795

Author's Note: So, how have you all been? Good, I expect. This chapter is a little, well, angsty. There is a lot of emotions going around and things start to go wrong for everyone. I will post the playlist for the fic soon but I warn you, I'll break your heart there might be some spoilers in the lyrics. The music recommended for this chapter is "Big Guns" by Ruelle. A big, huge thank you for everybody who still reads the fic even after nine ass long chapters. Be prepared for a lot more. As always, this haven’t been proofread, so feel free to report any mistakes back to me; warnings are expecific for each chapter; tags are at the end of the post and if you want to be added, let me know. Also, your feedback is also highly appreciated.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Tommy discovers that Arthur and Michael are in prison and confronts Campbell about it. When Daphne discovers the whole ordeal about Arthur's prison, she and Alfie have a discussion that doesn't end all that well.

Nine

Things were going smoothly for the Shelby family - the pubs in London were earning a god profit, the exportation of the alcohol had encountered no hindrance so far and then there was Daphne, that had finally give in to his advances. Tommy should have expected that something would go wrong, because things had always been like that for them. It had been this way when his mom died and his father ran away, it had been like that with the war, this time was no different.

“We had a deal.” He entered the church to find the irishman on his usual spot, reading the newspaper. “Hey! We had a fucking deal!”

“I would think that you would moderate your language in a place of worship.” His tone didn’t conceal the disdain and Tommy has had enough of the attitude, so he rips the paper out of Campbell’s hands and throws it away, pointing a finger to the policeman’s face.

“We had a fucking deal.”

“Mr. Shelby, if you read the papers, you might have seen that the Home Secretary has got himself into a bit of a fizz about certain moral issues. Prostitution, protection, racketeering, drinking, cocaine and, of course, gambling. He has demanded results.” As the Irishman lectures, Tommy starts to pace around, breath uneven, trying his best to not let his anger take over. He had to think of a way to get them out of this situation.

“You offered me protection. You promised me protection.”

“Well, no, you see it was Mr. Churchill that made you that promise. And the Home Secretary outranks him, so…” Campbell observes as Tommy walks around before saying. “And I can hardly be blamed if your demented brother decided to go on some sort of blood orgy during dinner.” The little patience that the gangster had was gone and as he approaches the policeman he is already shouting at him.

“Don't fucking lie to me! Do not sit here in your fucking church and lie to me!”

“You will need to contain your emotions or this meeting is at an end.” Tommy faces Campbell for a moment, his only wish is to put a bullet through his head, has been for a long time, but he tries his best to regain his composure, stepping back from the man and turning his back from him, resting his hands on the benches on the other side of the aisle. “Good. That's better. So, let us review the new situation. I have your brother in a prison cell charged with the murder of Billy Kitchen. The case against him is strong and I have no doubt that his destiny is to hang. And then there is Polly's son, Michael. He has already admitted to helping Arthur burn down the Marquis pub. He was a tough nut to crack, that boy, but crack he did. So I have your brother facing the noose, I have your cousin facing five years for arson. And I have your entire organization in disarray in Birmingham and in London.”

“What do you want?” Tommy asks, facing the policeman again.

“What do I want?!” Campbell looks at the gangster like he is not making sense at all. “I don't understand.”

“I have already agreed to do your fucking killing for you. Now, what is it you want from me?” Tommy’s voice is low and he punctuates every word. Campbell stands up from the bench to get closer to the gangster and the younger man just observes him, trying to conceal his anger.

“There you go, you see. An agreement is not the same thing as an assurance, now, is it? You see, I found I wasn't sleeping so well. It wasn't just the smell and the noise in that room, no. It was the nagging doubt. The knowledge… The knowledge that Tommy Shelby is not afraid to die. Therefore, the threat to your own life might not be enough to make it certain that you will obey me on the given day. I needed also the power of life and death over your family. And that I now have. Your brother, your cousin and your sister. I have known her address in Primrose Hill since the day she moved i, she is safe only as long as I want her to be. I have been ahead of you every step of the way. And, as my father used to say, to make sure your dog obeys you, you have to show it the stick once in a while.” He holds his cane up, as to illustrate his words, before walking out of the church, the echoes of the walking stick filling the air as Tommy stands there, weighing down his options.

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“Tommy, Arthur is in solitary confinement. Michael is in the remand wing of…” Lizzie follows him when he enters the office, but he is only partially registering what she is saying to him, the sound of the telephone ringing on the background.

“I already know. Get out, shut the doors.” She does as he says and Tommy sits on his desk, hands resting on the wood, eyes observing the telephone before he picks it up.

“Tommy? It's me. Tommy, can you hear me?” It’s impossible to not recognize the voice and the gangster is not sure about the way it makes him feel.

“Yes, Grace.”

“I think you called. I haven't slept.” He takes a deep breath before answering.

“Grace, this is not a good time.”

“I can call you back.” There is a hint of desperation on her voice, like she is clinging to something, a thread of hope perhaps. He should expect that, between her proposal before she left to America and the letters she kept sending him even when he didn’t answer none of them, even after she married, but part of him still felt a little surprised by her tone.

“No, it's fine. It's all right.”

“Can we meet?” The words had barely left his lips when she talks again and something occurs to Tommy - maybe this is the chance he has to balance things between him and Campbell and find out once and for all how he feels about her.

“Yes. We'll meet.”

“When?”

“Grace, there are some things I have to do first.”

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Tommy entered the Shelby house to find Polly sitting at the table in the room connected to the betting shop, smocking. He walked past her, entering the other room where John, Esme and Finn where waiting. Stooding near the table, hands behind his back, he prepared himself to survey the damage containment. “John?”

“The coppers have lifted ten of our men in Camden Town, the rest of them are on the run.”

“Tom, they've taken Michael.” It was Finn, clearly worried about his cousin’s situation.

“Business first.”Was all Tommy said to his brother to silence the boy.

“They took Michael last night...” Polly got up from her seat, clearly exasperated by the fact that her son was now in jail. All she wanted was a way to get him out, business be damned.

“I said business first.”

“They picked him up…” Tommy didn’t let her finish, raising his voice and looking at her as he said.

“Polly, business first!” She leaned into the doorframe, restless, her nephew ignored that, turning to look at his brother. “John?”

“They took all our whisky, so no doubt they'll be supping that for Christmas. They've impounded all our vans, put their own locks on the warehouse. The Eden Club and all our pubs have been raided by the coppers and handed back to Sabini and Solomons.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “The Black Country boys think it was Arthur that killed Billy because that's what the coppers told them. So there'll be no more free passes for our whisky boats.”

“I don't give a fuck about whisky. I don't give a fuck about Billy Kitchen. I want my son out of prison. Now.” Polly came forward talking directly at Thomas.

“Thomas, I spoke to Johnny Dogs...”

“This meeting should just be family.” The older woman interrupts Esme, not boring herself to look at the girl.

“I can help.” John’s wife protests but Polly directs her answer to Tommy again.

“It's family only, she is not blood, Tommy!”

“Let her speak.” The gangster says, trying to maintain his voice low.

“Or is this a business? Have you forgotten…”

“Enough!” He screams looking at his aunt. “Enough, Polly.” The man turns to his sister-in-law. “Esme?”

“I spoke to Johnny Dogs. The Lees are kin.”

“The bloody Lees!” Polly exclaims, not believing that Tommy is really considering the offer.

“They can give us men!” Esme argues.

“We don't need more fucking men! It's men that have done the damage! It... It... is men fighting like cockerels that have put us here in the first place.” Tommy just ignores his aunt outburst, knowing that she is not thinking rationally because of Michael’s situation.

“Esme, I'll take up their offer. We need men.” He takes a brief look at Polly, who stares at him, shaking her head before taking a step closer to him.

“If Michael ever gets out of prison, I am taking him away from this family. For good.” She marches up to Finn, taking the young boy by the arm, all the while Tommy observes her, quiet. “This life is bad. This life is all bad.”

“Aunt Pol, what are you doing?” The youngest Shelby protests as she forces him out of the room with her.

“Shut up and walk.” There’s just him, John and Esme on the betting shop now. They listen to the door opening and then closing. Tommy leans his hands into fists on the table, before sitting down on the chair in front of John.

“Thomas? Should I go and speak to Queen Mary Lee at the Black Patch?” Esme takes a step closer to her husband, watching as Thomas rests his elbows on the table, hands intertwined together in front of his mouth.

“Yes.”

“She can give us soldiers for a few nights.” She says and he just murmurs.

“Mm, good.” Fingers moving restlessly as he looks down onto the table, mind racing to think of solutions.

“John, go and bring up the car.” The other Shelby looks up at his wife, that just nods her head towards the door. He gets up from the chair, giving a last glance at his brother who is still silent, then he picks up his hat and leaves. Esme walks to the door to certifie herself that he really left before coming back to the table and inclining herself on the table to get closer to her brother-in-law. “Imagine riding away, Thomas. Living the real life, you know? Your Gypsy half is the stronger. You just want to ride away.” Thomas looks up at her, just observing quietly as she talks. “France is the new place for us, they say. Lot of metal lying around still. Guns and trucks and spent shells and things. Then you go south. Saintes-Maries, where the Black Madonna is. My brothers go sometimes for the fair. It's like a home for us. They still let you get lost there.” He lowers his hands to the table and leans closer to her, speaking low and calmly.

“I've been to France, Esme. So has John. Now get your coat and go with your husband.” The gangster just observes her for a moment, before taking her face between the fingers of his left hand. “And if you ever talk about getting lost again, I will cut you from this family.” After he releases her, Esme looks around, as to make a point, before speaking.

“What family?” And then she leaves and Thomas can’t help to think that she is not all wrong.

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Daphne doesn’t see Alfie before going to the bakery that morning, what she finds a little strange, because they usually go to work together, but she brushes it off as overthinking. Yet, things get weirder as she approaches the bakery and all the man go dead silent as she passes then. She ignores it too, like she ignores the little remnants of blood on the floor and the fact that Ollie seems more nervous than usual around her. That is until she has to get out of her office to ask something to Ollie and overhears a conversation between two of their employees - a conversation about the prison of one of the gypsy brothers.

She stops dead on her tracks, the two men see her and look at each other like they’ve just seem a ghost, until Ollie shoo them away, looking back at her with a very frightened expression. It’s then that it all comes weighing down on her - Alfie’s extrange behavior for all these past months, the fact that he wanted her out of the house last night, his cold demeanor towards her since the wedding.

Ollie tries to intercept her when she starts walking again but there is no stopping her as she storms through the corridor to Alfie’s office. Her breath is uneven and she has a hard time recognizing what exactly is the feeling bubbling under her skin - is it anger? Or maybe it’s betrayal but she can figure it out why she would feel that way. When she opens the door, unceremoniously, Alfie immediately looks up from whatever it is he is working on. He nods at Ollie, who is standing right behind her, and the younger man leaves, closing the door.

“You already know then?” There was no reason to pretend he didn’t know why she was there, he had been preparing himself for that all morning. Alfie reclines himself back into his chair, letting his glasses fall to his chest as he looks at her. She doesn’t sit on her usual chair, right in front of him, doesn’t think she can, not in the state she is in and that is his first sign of what is about to come.

“That’s what you’ve been hiding from me all along?” If he didn’t knew her so well, Alfie would think that she wasn’t unsettled by the news. Standing there, in the middle of his office, speaking to him without raising her voice, her speech did not falter, like this was just a normal conversation about the business and not the questioning that he knew it was, Daphne showed few signs of the raging battle roaring inside of her. She had always been good at concealing her feelings even when she was a kid, having been raised to be a proper lady, not letting others know that underneath all that pretense lived a real woman with real feelings.

“I knew you would vouch against it if I told ya.”

“Then you just decided that it was better to do it behind my back?” It was already bad enough to think the exact same thing on his head, hearing her said it out loud only made things ten times worse and he kinda hated himself for that.

“Look, love, I’ve told ya we were going to use them to win the war and then get rid of the fucking gypsies, haven’t I?” Rolling her eyes she asked him.

“Sabini is not a problem anymore then, is he?” Alfie almost swore under his breath - she was too damn perceptive, he had been fooling her for far more time than he thought was possible. The Jew took a deep breath before stating.

“We’ve made an agreement.” She laughs, humourless, hands resting on her waist before she traps him in her gaze.

“An agreement.” A pause. “Let me guess, he promised you that our bookies could go to Epsom this year in exchange of your help to get rid of the Blinders?” Daphne waits for him to say something, which he doesn’t, and she caughts herself massaging her temples as she paces around the room. “And like all the other times, he will deceive you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” She snaps at his tone, walking to his desk, standing between the two chairs and propping her hands, closed into fists, on the wood.

“We have a written deal.” He tries to hold his ground but stops as he hears her laugh again, mockingly.

“A written deal, of course, how haven’t I thought of this before, huh?” Her hazel eyes search for his blue ones. “Tell me, Alfie, this is what you call winning a war?”

“What do you know about winning wars, Daphne?” He regrets the words the moment they left his mouth, specially when she flinches away from him, taking a step back from the desk.

“I know plenty about war, Alfred, you know that better than anyone.”

“Daph…” The Jew almost gets up from his seat but she stops him before he could finish the movement.

“Don’t.” Turning her back to him, Daphne closes her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, trying to keep her cool. “What did you do?”

“We’ve taken all of the clubs back and Arthur is in prison.” She looked at him from over her shoulder.

“For what?”

“The murder of Billy Kitchen.”

“That was your plan all along?” She hears him exhale loudly before his voice is heard.

“Not in detail, but yeah, it was the plan since the beginning, aye.” 

“And you didn’t told me before… why?”

“Because you’ve turned soft, Daphne.” When she turned to face him his expression had changed, it’s like he was telling her something that is obvious. “I knew that from the moment that that fucking gypsy put foot on this bakery.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I knew you wouldn’t accept the deal with Sabinni because of Thomas.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk, hands intertwined, venon in his voice.

“Tommy has nothing to do with me thinking that this deal is bad for us.” She snaps back at him and this time he is the one who laughs.

“He has everything to do with it, love, because you love him.” He pauses to gauge her reaction. Daphne shakes her head in denial.

“You are out of your damn mind.”

“I am out of my mind?” He stands up, leaning onto his fists, his tone of voice higher than before. “Are you even hearing yourself and how much of a hypocrite you are being, huh? How’s he any different than all the ones we betrayed before him, huh? I will tell you the difference, the difference is that you’ve let yourself fall in love with him, that’s the fucking difference, innit?”

“You know me well enough to know that I would never let my feelings get in the way of the business.”

“You don’t deny it then? You do love him, don’t you?” She doesn’t answer him and that only seems to add fuel to the fire. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you were already sneaking around with him, huh? Opening your…”

“STOP!” Her scream seems to get him out of his trance and the hurt in her eyes is like a knife to his heart. “Don’t say something that you will regret later. Don’t make me hate you, Alfie, because I don’t know if I can come back from that.” They just stare at each other for a long moment before she speaks again. “Why do you keep me around, Alfie? Why do you keep me around if you truly believe that I will betray you at the first opportunity I have?”

“Because I made a fucking promise…” His tone is lower and solemn but she doesn’t let him finish.

“Fuck you and your promises. It’s not me you have to worry about, Alfred, is yourself.” His expression softens and Alfie almost takes a step back at the sheer force of her words. “You push everyone around you away, always have something up your sleeve to try and gain something from everybody. You want to call me a hypocrite, fine, maybe I am, but so are you. Because you stand there, looking at me and talking about fucking promises when you’ve been lying to me for months in a row and even after all these years that I’ve been nothing but loyal to you, you have the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me that you’re afraid I would betray you for somebody else.”

“Daph…” He walks around the table to get closer to her but she steps back, not letting him talk or get closer to her.

“If I really wanted to do that you really think I would choose Thomas? That I would have waited all these years listening from everyone how crazy I was to still be around you, hearing people calling me your mistress and God knows what else behind my back. If I really wanted to betray you, Alfie, I would have done it a hell lot sooner, because that’s all that Sabini has been waiting.”

Silence fills the room and neither of them is really sure how many time has passed when she speaks again.

“I’m going home. I’ll be there tomorrow morning, don’t wait for me.” He reaches for her as she turns to leave, catching her wrist on his hand, forcing her to face him.

“Are you leaving?” There is a certain level of desperation on his voice and there is no mistaking the worry in his blue eyes, she almost caves in.

“Yes, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?” Daphne takes a deep breath, holding his gaze.

“To a hotel. I need some time alone. I will still come to work, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s not about the fucking work I’m worried about, innit?” There is silence again and she recognizes the conflict on his face. “And if I don’t let you go?”

“I’m not asking for your permission.” She breaks away from his hold and walks to the door while Alfie waits for her to look back. She doesn’t.

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“Where've you been?” Ada asks her aunt as she enters the room and sees her taking a bath.

“I went to the Spotted Dog in Digbeth for a glass or two of rum.” The younger woman observes her aunt and frowns, asking.

“Was it one glass or two?”

“It was three.” Polly looks around. “Where's the baby?”

“Sleeping.” Ada reclines herself into the couch. “More like five.” The older woman groans lightly, lifting her arms from the water to rest it on the rim of the tub ad look at her niece.

“It was more like six.” She reaches for the cigarette, resting on the ashtray on the table near her. “Did you meet the maid?”

“I talked politics with her, she got bored and went to bed.” They both chuckle at Ada’s statement. “I phoned James. He talked to the lawyer anyway. He said he'd take Arthur's case for free, so we don't need Tommy.” The older woman exhales loudly, clearly disturbed by the topic. “Pol? We'll get Michael free, as well, I promise.”

“There's no need, they're letting him out in the morning.” Her expression changes to something somber and Ada frowns, worried. “Do you still talk to Daphne?” The question sounds strange to the young woman, but she answers anyway.

“Yes.”

“Then tell her that the best thing she can do is stay away from your brother. She is a nice girl, has certainly suffered enough. There is no future for her besides a man like him.”

“Pol, why…”

“If the baby wants anything at night, ring the bell by the bed. She gets paid to work twenty four hours, that girl, she's getting lazy. Well, take advantage if you're nice.” Ada observes as her aunt leans into the tub and concludes that the best think she can do is leave her, so that’s what she does.

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Daphne doesn't sleep that night. She tosses and turns on the bed, restless, thinking about her fight with Alfie and how the Shelby’s might be dealing with all the trouble, until she decides that there is no reason to stay laying down when no sleep will come to her. So she gets up and sits on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey on her hands, eyes focused on the fire burning there.

She recalls the words exchanged between her and Alfie that morning and starts to question herself about his accusation. Had her judgment of the situation been tainted by her feelings towards Tommy? Had she really let herself be blinded by love, like Polly had waned her? She, who always had done her best to conceal her feelings from everybody and leave her life dealing with things as rationally as she could?

The burning of the alcohol down her throat brings her back to the present and she hears the banging on the door. Daphne tries to ignore it, thinking that it might be Alfie or one of his man. She doesn’t have the strength or the patience to deal with neither now. Then she hears talking and all of a sudden the doors opens and Harriet comes in - no makeup, loose hair and wearing a simple plain gray dress, a worried expression on her face.

“What happened?” The courtesan closes the door behind her, approaching the other woman, taking a sit on the vacant armchair. Daphne turns her face to look through the windows, noticing that is already dawning, she haven’t noticed how many time she had been there.

Harriet looks around before fixing her gaze on her friend again - the bed is disheveled but just one look at Daphne says enough for her to know that the woman hadn't had a minute of sleep in the past few hours. Her legs are pulled up on the chair, closer to her chest, hair messily tied in, an empty glass of whiskey in her hands.

“Ollie called me in the middle of the afternoon saying that Alfie was beyond himself and that you had left.” There is still no response, the only reaction she gets from Daphne is that she rests her head on the back of the armchair, body relaxing into the armchair as her gaze falls onto the fire. “He keeps saying that he fucked up and that he doesn’t deserves your trust but he refused to tell me the meaning of it.”

“We fought.” Harriet is almost giving up, preparing herself to leave, when Daphne’s voice resounds on the room.

“That much I could tell.” Hazel eyes focus on her and the courtesan sighs. “What about?”

“Thomas.” Daphne pauses, inhales deeply before moving to serve herself another glass of whiskey. “Well, I thought it was about the business, but you can say that the main reason was him.” Harriet says nothing, waiting, because she knows that pressing her right now is not the best of choices. “Did you knew?”

“Knew what?”

“About his plans to serve the Shelby’s to Sabini on a silver plate.” They look at each other for a moment before Harriet answers.

“No. I had my suspicions that he would do something about them soon but he never told me anything.” Daphne only hums in response, taking a sip of her drink. “What did he do?” The other woman sneers.

“He made a deal with Sabini so our bookies could work Epsom this year. They have raided all the clubs taken by the Blinders and Tommy’s older brother is in jail, framed by the murder of one of their men.”

“Oh my…”

“That’s what he had been hiding from me all these months.” Daphne downs the rest of the whiskey, observing as she turns the glass in her hand. “I told him that Sabini was going to betray him like he has done so many times before and he told me that I was being a hypocrite questioning his actions because we have done that before.” She takes a deep breath, looking at the fire again. “And that I was only doing that because I loved Tommy.”

“What the fuck! Alfie is out of his damn mind?!” Harriet gets up from her sit, takes the glass from Daphne's hands and pours whiskey on it, taking it in one gulp.

“He is not.” The courtesan turns to face her friend, who is still sprawled out on the armchair.

“What…”

“He may have said some things that he shouldn’t, but he is not out of his mind.” Daphne’s expression is devoid of emotion and she is calmer than she had been on the previous day. “The thing is... The thing is he is right, Harriet. Alfie is right. The only difference between Thomas and all of the other people we betrayed is that I love him.”

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771​

[artificialqueens]

Strange Love (1/?) (Biadore) - passion--victim

AN: Would like to send a big thank you to @aurora-blackheart & Veronica for the support & beta-ing! Female pronouns are used when they are in drag and male pronouns out of drag. This was supposed to be a one-shot but it probably won’t be.

Her ass pressed into the cold concrete dressing room floor, the loud music of Mickey’s blaring through the closed door. Her hands trembled as she pushed back her blue hair and started on her brows, Of course he wasn’t there, she thought to herself. Adore didn’t expect him to come after everything that went down but that didn’t change the fact everything had been chosen so he could be there. While she was so proud of this new album, fuck it hurt. Everything reminded her of the moments of ecstasy, comfort, and love that they had spent together. Fuck. She took a long drag of her half-finished blunt, willing herself to forget it all.

–

They started off so easy. Not a light fuck between friends but there was an inherent understanding that when apart they did whatever. In the beginning, it worked perfectly, Adore was free to take (consensual) advantage of whatever trade she found after her shows or in the bars and then when their schedules managed to line up they would spend their time in bed, on the couch or in the shower. Fucking, yes but also just existing together. It was the still moments after they had both cum when they lay intertwined that Danny loved the most. It was in those moments when they were coming down where their eyes did all the talking and that Danny knew how much he loved the older man.

It wasn’t when Danny had to muffle Roy’s name as he climaxed in another man but when he found himself turning down trade in favour of masturbating to an old dick pick that he knew he was in trouble. So he did what any self-respecting twenty-something would; he found more and more creative reasons to fly to where Roy was performing. At first, it was a convenient layover,’

“Danny, not that I’m complaining but since when is Barcelona on the way home from London?” Roy quipped when Danny showed up at his dressing room door one night.

He shrugged sheepishly and embraced his other half in a tight hug.

–

Fuck. His other fucking half. If she was in a better mood than she would have fully admitted that he was her better half. Somehow he always knew what to say, and while he could read Adore to filth, he never did. His door was always wide and his arms open. He could make him laugh for days but somehow he also grounded him. Made him feel wanted and whole.

“John” she yelled.

“What?”

“Pour me another one”

–

So he got more creative; layovers, saying his manager fucked up booking the flights  and ‘accidently; leaving drag accessories in Bianca’s kit until finally one day he said “fuck it” owned up to how he felt, well okay, partly.

“Bitch I’m here cause I wanna be. You got a problem with that?”

“Come here pussyface.”

They never had the much needed conversation but it didn’t matter they were spending almost every night together, save only for work engagements and nights spent on a red-eye to see each other. Danny had always known how kind and generous Roy was as a friend (and in bed) but to be the recipient of his full affection was something else all together. He was always picking up a necklace or a shirt or a treat for him; never missing a scheduled Facetime call or an opportunity to shower Danny with compliments privately (or publicly). Even though they never put a name on whatever they had, they quickly settled into the most domestic arrangement either of them had experienced in a long time. When together, and when Bianca didn’t need to make morning talk show appearances, they found themselves waking up in the comfort of the other’s arms and morning wood pressed into the other’s thigh and neither Roy nor himself needing or wanting any more space between them. It was in these moments that Danny really got to see how much Roy loved him, how he trusted him to lower his guard and to just exist and be. Nights were spent exploring aspects of whatever new city they were in; and exploring new parts of each other whenever the mood hit them. When apart, they texted each other that their respective flight landed safe, dodged whatever potential trade they encountered at their solo gigs and made sure to Facetime when planned.

He didn’t set out to write another album. But fuck, lately he didn’t even need to smoke to find the words. Drawing inspiration from moments of ecstasy and comfort in his arms, his album took flight and in a direction it had never been before. He wasn’t mad about it either. He wanted everyone to know, indirectly through his lyrics, how happy he was. While he knew he had to leave it vague enough as to not identify his fellow queen, he poured his soul into each and every one of those songs. Treasuring the moments when he could fully let go, head in his lap, and share them with his love. He wasn’t always the most eloquent speaker but it was in his songs that he was able to express what he meant. And with songs called “Always,” “Hidden Kisses” and “End Game,” it wasn’t hard to figure out. Apart, when inspiration struck, instead of turning to social media Danny began sending videos of verses directly to Roy who more than compensated him when they were together once again. The hard part of this album turned out to be finding a release date that worked for both their schedules. They went back and forth suggesting dates, each one being shot down for a concert, a flight on the other side of the world or a previous work obligation. Suddenly they were looking at almost a year down the road.

“Well this isn’t going to work,” Roy said.

“Yanx what about…”

“Nope. At this rate I’ll be dead before it’s released”.

“Alright you old fucker what do think then?”

“I’ll just cancel this tour stop” he says pointing at the calendar. “I’ll be there.”

“Really? I know how important your work ethic is.”

“You want me there?”

“More than anything Willow,” he said, cupping his chin and pulling him into a tender kiss. “More than pizza,” he laughed.

“Then I won’t miss it for the world.”

—

Leave it to Roy to ruin pizza for me she thought. She pulls at the blue wig, trying to tease it into more of a punk mess, as she racks her brain for what went wrong. One minute it was cuddles and stealing kisses in shadowy corners of bars and the sex, oh god the fucking sex was everything. She didn’t understand how it could mean nothing to him. Tears gathered in the corner of her eye, threatening to rain down her perfectly beaten face.

“Fuck.” She took a deep breath, she wasn’t going to let him ruin this for her. She had put in too many hours pouring her heart into each track. She was so goddam proud of it and if he couldn’t see that and be there for her. Well fuck him. Even though fucking him got him in this mess in the first place.

—

He always thought he’d be the one to fuck it up. And maybe he did. But his heart felt a lot more heavy and broken than guilty. When fans started tagging her that Roy was with another man he didn’t give it another thought. Bitch, the internet be crazy he thought. When someone shouted, “Show Bianca who’s boss, I can’t believe she left you!” at her show one night she cursed that motherfucker out, he didn’t know shit.

But she would be lying if it didn’t stick in her head after a younger fan offhandedly commented post-show that “she seemed so unfazed, ‘specially since Bianca said yes.”

“Yes?” she said making a face, “to what? More dick?”

“Uhhh…” the fan faltered

“The ring, one dick for life ammirite?” her friend said, going for a clumsy high five despite the fact that he was clearly drunk.

What the fuck? Adore thought but she brushed off the interaction, making her way outside to smoke a joint.

She would be lying if she didn’t think about sleeping with the dude who gave her a light. But she was with Roy, and she trusted him even if her mind was spinning.

Replaying their last conversation and scrolling through their texts (he hadn’t responded to her last few messages which was giving her pause) had filled the next few nights after her show. So who could blame her when she chose clubs and friends’ shows over sleepless nights thinking about if him.

Alaska’s shows were always a good time especially when a new promoter was trying to woo her (and her friends) with free booze. Adore, now exceptionally tired and irritated by the comments on Instagram was taking full advantage of all the goodies. She was teetering the line between not cute and full on messy when she got two picture texts from Dela.

Dela: ??

Dela: U ok?

Dela: Love you!! Don’t get too drunk k?

Dela: We can go get fucked this weekend

Head already spinning from the alcohol she opened the first image to find a screenshot of a snapchat of Roy from behind. He was arm and arm with another guy, completed relaxed head tucked into his shoulder. The snap read

“@thebiancadelrio and his boo! They got engaged last week! 💎💍 #onedickforlife #sucker”

Adore felt weak. No, it couldn’t be she thought as she swiped to the second photo Dela sent. Also a snap, except this time Roy was in a loose hug with a man in medical scrubs. “Bitchin with @thebiancadelrio” was scribbled in bold red at the top. But that wasn’t what caught Adore’s attention. It was the small understated text in the bottom left corner that said @KyleVittar congrats 👨‍❤️‍👨

Adore’s stomach dropped and her heart began to seethe. Kyle. His fucking ex. What the fuck. And suddenly, even though she had done a line and more shots than she could count, it became clear. The missed FaceTime calls, the unanswered texts. The fucking trip home that he cancelled last week. It hit her swiftly. So she did the only thing she could think of, block him on both Instagram and Twitter, and hit up Alaska for another line.

–

Two blunts and four tequila shots later, her face was finished. And sure she wasn’t fully there anymore, but wasn’t that the point? Somewhere between shot two and three her trembling lips turned to a scowl and her brow became furrowed.

“Adore is this the final set list?” a PA asked.

“Yeah, no wait.” She grabbed the list and hastily added another song to the end of her first act. “Now it’s good”

“Okay, thanks. You’re going to be ready to go in 15?”

“Sure dude,” she said as she downed another shot trying to forget the pit in her stomach and the roar of anger in the back of her throat.

–

When she walked on stage she was greeted by a packed club, some of her sisters who were there supporting her and many screaming fans.

“Who’s ready to party!!” she yelled, temporarily forgetting the emptiness.

The crowd went wild, ready for her new music.

“Well guess what motherfuckers I got some songs for ya. This first one is a banger, hope you like it”

She had chosen this particular song to start to show because it was one of three songs on the new release that wasn’t about him. Plus it was a bop if she could say so herself. Letting the alcohol take over her soul she danced about the stage. And if she stumbled (literally) or almost fell, her fans were nice enough to brush it off and continue to cheer her on.

“Glad you bitchasses liked that. I don’t really wanna sing any of the other songs so howdoyouguysthinkaboutmejustrepeatingthat all. Night. Long?” she yelled into the mike. After repeating it (twice) she noticed her fans were kind of done with it, to put it nicely.

“Okay okay I get it. Next. On to the next. Might cry. But here we go, this one is called Always.” She pulled the mike away from her face and in a small voice, one very unlike herself, she said “I hate when Always has an expiration date,” and then she began to sing.

After that she sang two other songs from her new album. Her voice cracking a little more at each one as she pushed down the hurt and anger that had enveloped the last few weeks.

“All right motherfuckers, one more in this set. It’s not from my album but it might as well be,” she said raising her glass for another swig before beginning.

There were a few murmurs from the crowd as some tried to figure out what exactly she meant.

The opening lines were messy and rough and she let the song take over

Everybody wants to know

If we fucked on the bathroom sink

How your hands felt in my hair

If we were high on amphetamines

“The first time,” she interjected, “was so. fucked. up.”

And everybody wants to hear

How we chain-smoked until three

And how you laughed when you said my name

And how you gripped my hips so mean

“That fucking fucker!” she yelled.

We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night

But the ending is the same every damn time, no, no, no

We wrote a story in the fog on the windows that night

But the ending is the same every damn time

She screamed the last line, blinking back tears. She couldn’t believe him. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of her album, a celebration of them.

“Guess what? Even the pretty boys lie. Even the fucking old ones.”

They think I’m insane, they think my lover is strange

But I don’t have to fucking tell them anything, anything

And I’m gonna write it all down, and I’m gonna sing it on stage

But I don’t have to fucking tell you anything, anything

That’s the beauty of a secret

You know you’re supposed to keep it

That’s the beauty of a secret, oh oh oh

That’s the beauty of a secret

You know you’re supposed to keep it

But I don’t have to fucking tell you anything,

Everybody’s waiting up to hear if I dare speak your name

Put it deep beneath the track, like the hole you left in me

And everybody wants to know ‘bout how it felt to hear you scream

They know you walk like you’re a god, they can’t believe I made you weak

As she belted out the last line she knelt on the ground, miming how Bianca got (unofficially) crowned by Jinx and Shangela. “Fucking done,” could be vaguely heard through the cheers of her crowd.

She finished the song screaming, tears racing down her face. Sure it was punk, but it was also the most real she had felt in a while. She dropped the mic, walking off the stage. So much for celebrating a finished album, she thought. Finding the same hard spot on the concrete floor of the dressing room she reapplied her mug and downed what was left of the tequila. Somehow she managed to be upright and present enough, just enough, barely enough most would say, to sing in the second act, to thank the fans for coming and when the show was over, to make her way into the club to celebrate with old and new friends alike. This time, she knew that if drunk her was horny she was going to fix that. Fuck Roy. Fuck Bianca. He wasn’t the only big dick that wanted her. And with that thought she placed a sloppy kiss on some guy with a cute ass.

–

The next morning he stumbled out of bed, almost face-planting on his bright pink wig.

“Fuck.” He rubbed his eyes which produced a concoction of various eyeshadows on his hands. He groggily made his way to the bathroom to deal with the only thing he felt capable of handling - his bladder. As he opened the door he came face to ass with whoever he brought back last night.

“Fuck, you going?” he asked, not bothering to wait for an answer he closed the door and staggered back to bed but not before swiping his phone off the nightstand.

He scrolled through his Instagram, snap and text notifications until one caught his eye:

Willow💕: What the fuck pussyface? 

[reyskyber]

The 100 ask game

I was tagged by my bae @asroarke.  But it was like 6am and I was on mobile.  (I got some pretty weird looks at the bus stop while I was near cackling at your answers Alex omg!)

rules: answer as many as you want if tagged and then tag three more people OR just reblog it and treat it as a regular ask meme!! have fun xoxo

1. What would you get arrested for on the Ark? So I thought about this a lot, I’d be shouting at my siblings for doing shitty scottish accents or singing wonderwall at me and I’d scream and someone would hear me and then I’d go to prison for helping my mum to harbour extra people.

2. Would you take off your wristband when you landed on the ground? Um, maybe?  I probably would to get food but I doubt I’d pull a Finn and try and take it off for the sake of it.

3. What would the necklace Finn would make for you look like? (Clarke: deer/Raven: a raven duh..) a fox?  idk tbh if finn gave me a necklace I’d give it right back

4. If you could resurrect any MINOR character who would it be? WELLS JAHA omg

5. Create a squad of 5 characters to go on missions with. Who are they? Bellamy bc he seems to be the only one who can drive the rover?  Raven because she’s amazing does this even need a reason? Monty because we could geek out over plants even tho i hate biology.  Jasper just so I could keep him safe.  I feel like if I include Clarke I’m asking for trouble since her and Bellamy can’t get in the rover together without some kind of accident happening.  But I love her with all my heart and we’d need her.

6. Minty or Briller? Minty for life, I just didn’t like Bryan :/

7. What would your name be in Trigedasleng? (example: Octavia=Okteivia…just make it up!): Iylah(?) I’m juts using Niylah without the N, soo

8. Thoughts on Finn? Omg don’t get me started.  I just don’t understand how you can grow up with Raven Reyes and fall in love with her and have her love you back and then get to earth and act as if she doesn’t exist?  Granted, I am also a sucker for beautiful blonde girls, but I’m not dating Raven Reyes sooo.  I think my main problem with Finn was how he was always like “yeah, Clarke I know I didn’t tell you about Raven but I miss you.”  or “Raven, you’re telling me I hurt your feelings?  But what about my feelings?”  Like he was just so self centred.  I’m gonna stop rn before I make this entire post about Finn.

9. Be honest. How willing would you have been to take the chip without knowing all the horrible things it does? Idk really, probably really easy because I literally follow what everyone else is doing at all times.  If they advertised it as a fashion thing oh boy, I’d be right there.

10. What character do you relate to most & What character do you like the least not including the obvious ones like Pike, etc…  I once did two of those “which character are you?” quizes, and I got Clarke in one and Bellamy in the other.  I think i’m more like Bellamy though, in that I’d do anything for my family and I go with my emotions rather than thinking things through first.  Also riddled with regret and guilt. Idk about liking the least, I personally don’t like Niylah but I really don’t know why?  She’s a really well done character and everything but idk something doesn’t sit right with me and I can’t put my finger on it (?)

11. Describe your delinquent outfit: Black skinny jeans, but that’s a given.  I think a t shirt like Clarke’s and then either her iconic s2 leather jacket or Raven’s red bomber jacket bc I love them both.  And the combat boots that everyone has.  And I think I’d style my hair like Raven’s bc it’s so pretty.

12. Favorite type of mutant animal? Pauna idk? 

13. What would your job be on the Ark? making food with the Greens.  I’d be the judgy older friend that told Monty and Jasper not to do drugs but then just rolled my eyes when they did it anyway.

14. Would you have willingly pumped Ontari’s heart if Abby asked it? If Abby asked me to jump from the top of the tower in Polis I would do it with little to no hesitation.

15. If Lexa wasn’t Heda, then who would make the best commander? Anya, she always deserved better <3

16. If you were a grounder, then where would you live and who would be your mentor? Just for purely selfish reasons: Azgeda so I could train with Echo.

17. How would you act if you ate the hallucinogenic nuts like Jasper and Monty? I get headaches from smelling weed near me so I’m terrible near any kind of drug, I think I’d end up like Jasper and get really scared of something that wasn’t there, or go the complete other way and discuss changing the tides with Monty.

18. How would you have dealt with Charlotte’s crime? I’mma leave that for Clarke and Bellamy.  I would not be involved in that conversation at all.  Sort of like Finn, just stood at the side watching them eye fuck each other.

19. Who should be the Chancellor, if anyone? I really loved Abby as chancellor, and Kane.  That being said, Kane, Abby, and Jaha all have a tendency to still be going for “adults vs kids” when it comes to problem solving, so maybe have one of the 100 as chancellor?  But everyone’s in the bunker now so idk how relevant that is?

20. Mount Weather had a lot of modern commodities. (example: Maya’s Ipod)What is the one thing you would snatch while there? I would grab Maya’s ipod so fast, I hope she has good taste in music.

21. Do you think you’d have caught the virus spread through camp or would you have been immune like Octavia? I’mma touch wood rn but I’ve never actually had the flu or anything so I think I might have a strong immune system??

22. What would your grounder tattoos look like? Hairstyle? War paint? I like the swirling ones that Lincoln had so maybe some like that?  For hairstyle I’d go for Octavia in s2 because that’s a look.  And I doubt I’d be going to war so no war paint for me.

23. Favorite quote? She stopped being a kid they day you sent her down here to die.

24. Can you forgive Murphy for his actions? How about Bellamy? Yes and yes.

25. If one of the characters was in the Hunger Games, who would have the best shot at winning? I think Murphy would have a really good shot, like he’d trick everyone into thinking he was dead or something and then he’d murder them all while they were asleep or something.

26. Least favorite ship? Favorite ship? NOT INCLUDING CLEXA OR BELLARKE. Still not set on Clarke and Niylah, but like I said that’s bc of some weird thing I’ve got against Niylah that I’ve not figured out yet.  Obvs bellarke are my faves, but other than that I really like Minty and Braven because their dynamics are both really interesting and I love them <3

27. A song that should be included in the next season, like when Radioactive was? So, I thought about this a lot.  I really wanted a slow or instrumental/guns n roses version of knockin’ on heaven’s door for the bellarke reuinion. BUT the lyrics and the meaning of that song were really important for 216.  So, what if they played knockin’ on heaven’s door again but like at the end of s5 after someone (maybe octavia) dies or something???  Or like in the middle of the war?

28. What would you do if you were stuck in the bunker with Murphy for all that time? He’d make jokes, I’d laugh, he’d scowl, repeat for the next 5+ years 

29.Opinion on Emori? Roan? Loved Emori in s4, hyped to see her in s5.  OMFG do not.  Roan did not deserve to die, and death by drowning?? I thought we were gonna have a call back to 302 when he tried to drown Clarke and she thought she was done and he jumped back out in typical extra Roan style.  Then we could have had some really good Roan/Octavia scenes where they talked about Bellamy???

30. Would you want to be an extra that is killed off in a brutal way? Not really, can I not just survive in the background like Shawn Mended? 

31. A character you’d like to learn more about and get flashbacks of? I’m gonna agree with Alex on this one and say we needed back story on Roan.  But I’d also like to see more of the Jahas, like what happened to Wells’ mum and what Wells did to get on the dropship.  What were things like when Diana was chancellor???

32. A character you’d bang? So many, that’s a whole other post tho.

I’m gonna tag @the-most-beautiful-broom, @bellamyblake-kru, and @nathanmillers (sorry if you guys have already done this <3)

[heyhyuck-blog]

Love Smells (Seulgi Hogwarts!au)

Hey everyone! Holy crap, I checked this morning and I haven’t posted any writing in three weeks, I’m so sorry. I hope you enjoy this, though! It’s my first EVER Red Velvet writing!!!! And it’s about Seulgi aka my wife- ALSO: I have a song that kinda goes with this story. It doesn’t have many lyrics, but it’s really soothing to listen to.

The 1975- I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware

Genre: Fluff

Tags: None

Characters: Kang Seulgi, Y/N

Word count: 1,096

“Y/N!” Your best friend, Seulgi, called from behind you. It was during passing period, there were a lot of people in the halls. You were on your way to potions class, the only course you shared with Seulgi.

“Hey, Seulgs. How was Astronomy? Was professor going crazy again?” You asked, knowing how the Astronomy professor was one to go on long, detailed tangents about star patterns 

“When is he not crazy, honestly. Do you have any idea what we’re doing in potions today?”

It was even in simple conversation like this that your heart would skip a beat when seeing Seulgi. She was gorgeous, no doubt, but you hadn’t really thought about the possibility of liking her until a close friend of hers, Wendy, pointed it out to you.

When you two got to the potions classroom, the whole room seemed to be buzzing with excitement. You sat at your spot and leaned over to the girl that sits across from you, Krystal.

“What’s happening, why is everyone so rowdy today?” You whispered to Krystal.

“Wait, you didn’t hear from the other class? We’re talking about Amortentia today.” She giggled, obviously just as excited as the others.

Once again, your heart skipped a beat. Love potions were dangerous things. And, even though you were muggle-born and didn’t know about this potion, you had no doubt that it was a strong one.

The professor called everyone up to the front of the class.

“Since you all seem to have heard what we’re discussing today, who would like to explain Amortentia to the class?” The professor asked. Seulgi’s hand shot up.

“Amortentia is a love potion.” Seulgi said. Love potions were dangerous things. And, even though you were muggle-born and didn’t know about this potion, you had no doubt that it was a strong one. “The smell of the potion is unique to every person, it means different things to everyone.”

“Thank you, Miss Kang. Now, as she said, the smell is unique to everyone. Just out of curiosity, I’d quite like to know what everyone smells in the potion. If you’re comfortable, that is. Miss Kang, would you like to take the first smell?” Seulgi nodded, stepping up to the bubbling pot of potion. She leaned her face close to the pot.

“It smells like… freshly milled wood… lemon… and boiling tea…” She smiled. Those must be scents she recognizes, maybe some from her home 

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, you’re up next.” The professor called. Student after student went up, stuck their head in the pot, and shouted out three random scents that they smelled. Finally, it was your turn.

You would admit, you were nervous to smell the potion, almost fearing what you were about to inhale. You pushed away your nerves and leaned down to take a whiff of the potion, like so many students just had. A wall of wonderful scents filled your nose. You tried to pick them out, one by one,

“Crisp apples… clean linen… a book.” Even though you recognized the scents, you couldn’t quite put your finger on where is came from. You went back to your seat in a bit of a haze, the strong scents of the potion slightly affecting your brain. You managed to get through the rest of potions without any other distractions, eager to get to dinner.

***** 

A few months passed, and you had all but forgotten about that fateful potions class. You distinctly remembered those scents. You had yet to find them. You thought that they could be at home. Sadly, you wouldn’t be able to go find them at home, because your family was going to be out of town for the holidays. Meaning, you would be staying at the castle over the break.

“Seulgi, are you done packing?” You leaned your head around the corner of the Hufflepuff common room to see Seulgi sitting in the corner, her nose tucked into her sketchbook.

“No, I’m not going home for Christmas this year.” She mumbled, not looking up from the book.

“What? You never told me this, I’m staying here, too!” You plopped down on a couch across from Seulgi. Her eyes lit up, looking up to meet yours. Her warm eyes always made your heart melt.

“Wait, really? I think we’re the only Hufflepuffs staying this year. Even the prefects are headed home! We have the common room to ourselves!” She called, setting her sketchbook down and grabbing your hands, pulling you up and dancing around the room with you.

This was another small act that made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks warm up.

Seulgi pulled you in for a tight hug, one that made it seem like she never wanted to let go. She didn’t want to lose you, didn’t want you to slip through her fingers. It was at that moment that you recognized the smell of that Amortentia.

It was the smell of her.

The apple scent came from her shampoo. The fresh linen from her freshly washed robes. The book from her hands, the ones that touched and manipulated the pages of her sketchbook on the daily. A beautiful combination for a beautiful girl.

When you pulled away, she seemed confused by your shocked face. “What, what was that for?” You stuttered, embarrassed by her sudden act of affection to you.

“I don’t know, I just wanted to hug you. Why are you so embarassed?” She asked, poking at your sides playfully.

“Nothing, you just… smell good?” You suggested.

“Oh yeah, what do I smell like, then?” She asked.

“Apples, fresh linen, and books.” You stated calmly. Her face twisted in confusion.

“That’s very specific… wait.” She had caught on. “Isn’t that what Amortentia smells like to you?” You nodded your head, your face erupting in red once again. Her hands urgently shot out to grasp yours again.

“Well, that’s good, because you smell like milled wood, lemon, and boiling tea.” Her eyes closed, not wanting to see your reaction. You couldn’t do much, say anything. All you could do was put an awkward hand on her face and another on the base of her neck, playing with the bottom layers of her hair. She slowly opened her eyes and moved her arms to your shoulders.

“What I’m trying to say, is that I like you, Seulgi.” You whispered.

“I guess I’m trying to say that I like you too, Y/N.” She whispered back.

And like that, a shy crush had turned into a one-of-a-kind love story with none other than Kang Seulgi.