#arranging these gifs was a pain in the arse

[owenhcrper]

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds 2.06 - Lost in Translation

[renx01]

Betrayed - part 2

Part 1

Prompt: Your father is the head of a criminal enterprise, one which has come onto the kingsman’s radar. Galahad has the task to get closer to said head, so he starts dating you. After a lot of apprehension on your side, you finally let your walls be broken down by him. That is until you find out that he’s been using you all along. Pairing: Harry Hart x (GN!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: angst, manipulation, established relationship Word count: 2611

You sit there in silence, tears streaming down your face. ‘Harry.’ The whisper would be inaudible to anyone but him. ‘Do it. It’s what I deserve.’ His left hand moves to hold the gun in place as you try to pull it away. ‘No, Harry.’ Your voice comes out strained. ‘I love you.’ There’s a brief pause. ‘I betrayed you, can’t you see that?’

‘If you really had, you would’ve killed me already.’

His grip on the gun loosens as he puts his forehead to yours and looks you in the eye. ‘Dear, you know I can’t do that.’ He sighs. ‘Now please, shoot me or I’ll do it myself.’ Pain is all you see in his eyes. ‘Harry, I-’

As you’re about to say something to him, your door bursts open, a young guy pointing a gun at you. ‘Drop the gun or I’ll blow your head off!’ He shouts at you as he walks around the table, so you quickly let it fall to the ground. ‘Harry, you alright bruv?’ Harry looks terribly confused as he stands up.

‘What are you doing here Eggsy?’

‘Saving your arse, isn’t that obvious?’ He looks the man over for any wounds. ‘Glad to see you’re okay. Now what’re we doing about this person?’ You still sit there, kneeling on the ground as you look at Harry who is pinching the bridge of his nose. He was obviously annoyed that things didn’t go as he’d planned. Swiftly, he grabs his glasses and puts them back on, it is as if a switch was flipped inside him. ‘Eggsy, please stop pointing your gun at my fiancé.’ The boy’s mouth almost drops onto the floor. Ignoring the obvious shock, Harry continues speaking. ‘Merlin, I need you to arrange for these bodies to be taken away and this mess to be cleaned up.’ He turns to you, his emotions unreadable once again. ‘Love, please stand up. I suppose I have some explaining to do.’

Harry had led you to his office before sitting you down. Getting out some tissues, he slowly started cleaning the blood off your hands and arms. It was silent, with Harry only giving a few instructions when he needed you to do something. The silence itself was calm, yet the tension had not dissipated. You were stiff as a board while he couldn’t bear to look you in the face. When he had almost fully cleaned the blood from your hands and arms, he finally spoke. ‘I’m sorry it had to come to this darling.’ His hands squeeze yours. ‘I’d hoped I would have more time to explain everything to you. To live a relatively normal life with you for a bit longer.’ You pull one of your hands out of his grip and stroke his hair trying to comfort him. Looking at the situation, it is awful all around.

‘Harry.’

He finally looks at you and you slowly put your hand on his cheek. ‘Please, don’t leave me.’ You whisper. ‘My love, I would but-’ ‘Harry, I need you. Now more than ever.’ A tear slowly starts falling down your face, but he reaches up and wipes it away. ‘I’m not sure if I can, but I’ll do everything in my power to stay with and protect you. Even if I have to move heaven and earth.’ Slowly, he stands up. ‘I’ll be back momentarily.’ The emotion which had laced his voice moments before disappeared suddenly. ‘Promise me, Harry.’

‘I promise.’

Minutes, which feel like hours, pass before anyone joins you again. The room is silent and the papers which hang on its walls feel almost suffocating. Silently, you stand up and leave the chair which is stood behind Harry’s desk. You need answers. Despite having noticed odd behaviours before this evening, you hadn’t expected this. Him not explaining everything to you before leaving the room didn’t help with the doubt you felt. You start looking in his dressers and around his desk. Everything seems normal; that is until you accidentally hit a button on the corner of his desk. It moves like a handle, and you find it opens a section of his wall to reveal an entire arsenal of guns and other weapons. A small gasp escapes you. Gathering yourself once more, you approach it and examine the various weapons. The guns were pretty familiar to you, as they were similar to what you grew up around, just more advanced. The same goes for the knives, which look to be pretty standard. What confuses you, however, are the several umbrellas and glasses which are on display. You grab an umbrella, which looks to be the same as the ones Harry often carries on him. Twisting and turning it, it doesn’t look to be any different from a normal one, that is until you open it, revealing a shield-like structure which allows you to look through. Quickly, you close and put it back. You decide it’d be wiser to look at the things which do not appear to be a weapon, like the glasses. Again, they look to be pretty normal, and you supposed they couldn’t be too dangerous as Harry wore them on an almost daily basis. You put them on, expecting to see how awful his vision was. What you didn’t expect was for it to show you a live feed of wherever Harry was and whoever he looked to be talking to.

‘Harry, you can’t be serious bruv.’ The young man you’re seeing through the glasses says before a scottish voice from an unknown source joins in. ‘Galahad, I knew of this mission, what it entailed, and how long it’d been going on, but you cannae tell me that you’ve fallen in love with a target.’ There’s a silence and you hold your breath, waiting for his response. ‘But I did and here we are. I cannot leave them, they’re the only person that’s ever made me some sort of way. It’s either you allow me to stay with and marry them or I’ll leave kingsman and marry them anyway.’ His voice cracks. You see how his hands move to cover his eyes, followed by hearing soft muffled sounds. ‘Harry, it’ll be alright. Just take your time and explain everything to them.’ He doesn’t reply but the muffled sounds continue. This is a side you’d never seen of him and hoped to never see again. At least not in this way, where you couldn’t go and comfort him. Slowly, you pull off the glasses and put them back into their designated spot. ‘I don’t know what to do; how to feel.’ You whisper to yourself as you sit back down.

For about half an hour, you continue to sit there in silence before someone opens the door. It’s a bald gentleman wearing glasses. ‘Hello there. Harry’s asked me to come get you.’ His voice seems hesitant, but you recognise the tone and Scottish accent from when you were wearing Harry’s glasses. You stand up and silently follow him out of the office and into the dining room. ‘I’m Merlin, a colleague of Harry’s.’ He looks at you and smiles. ‘He’ll explain everything to you momentarily. He just had to get some clearance to be able to do so.’ Merlin stops in front of the door which leads into the living room. ‘He does love you, dearly. Otherwise he wouldn’t be doing all this.’ Immediately after telling you, he opens the door, motioning for you to walk in. When you do, he closes the door behind you, leaving you and Harry alone. ‘Sit down dear. We have much to discuss.’

The rest of that evening was spent with Harry, which was in fact his real name, talking and you listening to him. He explained that while he did initially approach you because of your ties to your father, but as he got to know you he slowly started falling. You had won him over with your personality and intellect, and slowly, he started to feel guilty. But, he had hope and wanted to spend his life with you, which had resulted in him asking for your hand in marriage, despite the rules the kingsman had concerning relationships. The subject of your father and his business was one he had wanted to discuss, but life had caught up and your father ended up catching him before he could talk to you about it. It was difficult and you weren’t certain how your relationship would progress, but you knew that the both of you would try to make it work. The following weeks and months were spent with Harry showing you around Kinsman and introducing you to his colleagues. Merlin and Eggsy, who you’d met before, were his closest colleagues and friends. They were very close and he seemed particularly fond of Eggsy. He acted almost protective over him, as if he were his own son. He also looked to be quite fond of the younger agent Lancelot, who had actually beaten Eggsy in the recruitment process. Eggsy was able to join Kingsman eventually, with Harry being the main reason for it, though he wouldn’t explain how. He had been quite convinced of the young man’s skills and pulled some strings behind the scenes to make it possible. One of the nights, the two of you stayed at Kingsman HQ a bit longer and had dinner with Merlin and Eggsy. ‘So… you and Harry are staying together?’ The younger man enquires awkwardly and Harry, who had been having a casual conversation with Merlin, turns to him. ‘Yes Eggsy, we’ve been working things out amongst ourselves and we’re quite happy together.’ His gaze turns to you and he smiles. ‘Though we did have some serious conversations about the implications of our relationship and how it originally began.’ You nod. ‘We are taking our time, but I’m quite positive we’ll get out of this even stronger.’ Harry squeezes your hand in response and leans towards your ear. ‘I would like to get married at some point relatively soon; at least if you’re comfortable with that.’ He whispers. It had been over half a year since the incident with your parents had happened and you’ve slowly been building up each other’s trust. The initial months had been very difficult, but you understood that the person you love had done it to protect himself and his relationship with you. ‘I’d like that, agent Galahad.’ As he leans in to kiss you, you’re interrupted by Merlin making a coughing noise. ‘Now you lovebirds, we’re still at the dinner table and you aren’t alone.’

That night, the two of you lay in bed together. ‘My love.’ Harry says as he rolls over and looks at you. ‘I was thinking. Why don’t we get married in a small, closed ceremony? Nothing too fancy, just us and our closest friends.’ He pushes your hair out of your face. ‘Then run off to a far-away destination for a couple of weeks.’ You lean your forehead against his. ‘That actually sounds wonderful.’ The two of you kiss momentarily. ‘When?’ The smile on your face is positively mischievous. ‘How about next month? With how things are going, I should be able to get a few weeks off.’ ‘Sounds wonderful, mister Hart.’ He whispers in your ear before kissing you passionately. ‘I’ll talk to Merlin about it dear.’ So, he did. The following day he talked to Merlin and arranged for him to have some time off. Apparently, this was the first time in just over 10 years that he’s taken time off from Kingsman, so they were quite happy to oblige, especially since they have Eggsy to fill in for him during that time. You were quite surprised by that, while you knew he really loves his job, you didn’t know he was this committed. He had told you that he was in his early twenties when he had joined the organisation and the last time he’d taken some time off was when he’d caught the flu, about 5 years into having the job. With you in your early thirties, you couldn’t imagine not having had a proper holiday for so long. Despite this, he decided that he should be able to take time off for about a month and started organising your honeymoon, the destination of which remained a surprise to you on Harry’s insistence.

The day of your wedding had approached quickly. Despite only doing a civil ceremony, it was quite the celebration. Most of Harry’s colleagues and your friends had joined you for it, heading to the Kingsman estate for a small party afterwards. Now, you’re sitting at a table with your husband next to you holding your hand. Next to him sit Merlin and Eggsy, while your best friend and grandmother sit besides you. The rest of the room is filled with other friends, acquaintances, and a few family members who are sitting around several tables and talking amongst themselves. Your attention is diverted from Harry by someone tapping their glass with a spoon, something people usually do when they want to do a speech. It’s Eggsy, who looks quite nervous. ‘Excuse me.’ He hesitates momentarily before continuing. ‘I’d like to make a speech.’ He smiles at Harry. ‘I want to start off by saying that I am very happy for Harry. Over the past few years he’s helped me become a much better version of myself and I would like to thank him for that. However, that isn’t why we are gathered here today. My mentor has decided to marry his partner, which I am delighted about. Ever since they’ve been together, Harry has seemed more energetic and happier than ever before.’ He turns to you. ‘I want to thank you for being there for Harry, even in the darkest of times for the both of you, and for making him a better man.’ Eggsy sits back down quietly. The rest of the evening was spent listening to a few more speeches, followed by a relatively calm party where you and Harry talked, danced, and drank, like a lot. Towards the end of it, as the guests continued to drink and party, the two of you snuck off to your room. The night was still young and together you spent most of it enjoying it as a newly wed couple.

The following afternoon Harry took you to a small airport and Merlin was there, ready to fly you to wherever you were going. He greeted you with a smirk as Harry took your luggage up the stairs. Again, you had no clue where you were heading, but you trusted your husband. You decided to read a book while on the flight. It was quiet, but the silence was comfortable, you and your other half sitting next to each other. His hand rests on your knee while he himself reads the paper. The remainder of the, seemingly short, flight was spent in this manner. ‘Dearest,’ he pauses, ‘please close your eyes.’ You do and he leads you outside, the warm air hitting your face. ‘Now, where do you suppose we are?’ The air felt familiar, as if you’d been there many times. ‘Italy?’ You ask and he tells you to open your eyes. You recognise the airport quickly and you turn to him. ‘Tuscany, that’s lovely dear.’ ‘I’m glad you’re excited.’ He leans down to kiss you. ‘I arranged with your grandparents that we can stay in their estate for a week before we start travelling around.’ His hand, which is placed on your lower back, slowly pushes you towards the car which stands at the ready.

Taglist: @hereforthefandoms12

[harrietbarnesblog]

Mark my words

Masterpost

Masterlist

Taglist

Pairing: Anthony Bridgeton x reader

Warning: angst, this doesn't have a happy ending, cursing, language, Anthony is kinda an arse here, mention of sex.

You were just a toy to him. You only appear in his memory when he is alone. He tells you how much he fancies you when fucks you. You wanted him to own you. You wanted him to love you and marry you. You wanted him to show you off. But all he wanted was to use you. He has touched you a ton of time but you wanted him to hold you.

It was a fine Tuesday night. You were passing some time with two of your best friends.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself, y/n.” Eleanor said.

“It's not that easy. I love him.”

“He is getting married and he is just using you. These feelings you have for him are useless. He does not care about them. Stop letting him inside your life again and again.”

“Pardon me. but I can't do that.“

“Then at least tell him how you feel about him. You can't just let him use your body like you are some harlot.” Jane said. It touched a nerve when she called you a harlot.

“I did.” the truth you didn't tell him how you felt but you have shown it and expressed it. “And I wish to end this conversation about Anthony. What is going on between him and I is none of your business.” you said rudely.

“You don't mean that, do you? We are your friends, of course it is our business.” Eleanor said, offended.

“Not anymore.”

“Not anymore? Our friendship or your business being ours?”

“Both.” you answered. You showed no emotions.

“Mark my words, y/n. You will regret choosing a man who doesn't love you over us. But also remember when you need my hands will be still open to hug and console."

They were right. You will regret choosing Anthony over them. Love really does make you blind. It makes you destroy yourself and you don't even realise that.

You watch your friends walk away. You don't stop them.

—----------------*__________*------------------

It's been four days since you lost your best friends.

You just wanted to curl up in a fetal position all day and cry. You realised the mistake you made. You realised Anthony will never love you the way you love him. You realised you were stupid for choosing Anthony over your friends.

Someone knocked on the door. You opened to find the bright face of Anthony.

"Hello, darling." He said.

"Anthony."

He didn't waste a single second. He grabbed your face and pulled you in for a deep kiss. You wanted to be committed in that kiss but you just couldn't. It felt so wrong.

You pushed him. Tears were forming in your eyes.

"What happened?" He asked.

"I don't wanna do this anymore. I just can't do it anymore."

"Why? What changed? You were happy with this arrangement. We were happy."

"First of all there is no 'we' and it never was and never will. And second of all I was happy in the beginning and now I'm not."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. You were too shallow to see my feelings through your pleasure. You shouldn't come here anymore, you are betrothed to someone. " You screamed in anger and pain.

"Is this what this is all about? You want to stop this because I'm betrothed to Edwina. I'm merely marrying her because I want to marry a noble woman, a woman who can take care of my family and fulfil her duty as a wife. It's not like I'm marrying her for love."

"No this is not all about. It is more than that. And I don't wish to explain myself to you. You need to leave, lord Bridgerton. I don't want to see your face anymore."

He placed his hand on your shoulder.

"You don't really mean everything you said. "

You got frustrated. You didn't really mean what you said and you hated that he knew that.

You pushed his hand away.

You let out an agonising scream. Tears streaming down your face.

"No, I don't really mean what I said. But I want to. I'm in love with you but I'm wishing I wasn't.”

“I told you from the beginning not to fall in love with me. You had one fucking job and you couldnt fucking do it properly.” he shouted at you.

“Don't try to blame it on me. I didn't know I would fall for you.”

“I should have seen it coming when you started giving roses and becoming clingy.”

Anthony calling you clingy hurt you. It felt like he stabbed you in the heart with a knife and twisted and pulled the knife out.

You scoffed.

“Clingy. I was merely expressing my love. Mark my words, lord bridgerton. You will fall in love someday and memories of us will flash in front of your eyes. The person you fall for will be forbidden fruit. You will be hurt as much as I'm hurt right now. Now fucking get out of my house and never come back again. And also I feel sorry for the girl that you're marrying. Since you are merely marrying her to make her play the wife role and you don't love her.” you said to him with full anger and pain.

Anthony swallowed his saliva but it felt like he was swallowing a big rock.

“I'll leave and I hope to never see you again.” he turned away. He stormed out of your house, slamming the door behind.

You crumbled down to the floor and wailed your heart out.

[demigoddessqueens]

Okay have a bit of an angsty with a happy ending ask. Percy x Vax x Reader, where reader does a big damn hero moment of saving both Percy and Vax much to her own harm, have to go through revival ceremony, How much does the Raven Queen play a part and will the boys finally realize how much reader loves them?

Ohohohoho! Bringing in the pain! Pain-non strikes!

You didn’t feel the hit but the last thing you saw were the broken expressions of your loves before blacking out.

Assuming that you’ve died completely, you come face to face with the matron of death herself. You’re ready to embrace the passing on before she reveals the arrangement.

While your death was untimely, there will be a small mercy granted from the Queen in exchange: you will return to your life and be able to live but when she summons you for work, you must oblige.

Even in the afterlife, you feel dread but at least it’s better than being taken from your hearts too soon

Meanwhile, Vax and Percy are barely hanging on by a thread as the revival slowly drags on. By the time you take your first breaths again, both men are on you in relief (despite Pike’s insistence to give you space to breath), but the unsettling feeling grows in your stomach.

You couldn’t keep it in for much longer, and when you do tell the rest of the group, it’s the most difficult conversation you’ve ever had.

Disbelief, shock, anger, sadness, doubts, everything. Vax and Percy even turn on their anger for a brief moment, but you and Vex aren’t having it. “Get your heads out of your arses for a damn minute!! This won’t solve anything!”

It’s an emotionally tense time, but you all try. You try to make your peace with this as best you can, and you can tell Vax and Percy try to but that sadness that shrouds behind their eyes breaks your heart.

The nights are the most vulnerable for them both. At times when you hold them, you can feel their shoulders shake with silent sobs. Iron grips hold fast to you, afraid that you’ll be gone by the morning.

Once Vox Machina completed their quests, and banished the Whispered One, you feel the cold pain in your chest. She’s here. It’s time.

The farewell to your friends is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You try to keep a brave face but your resolve chips away with every second.

Both your gunslinger and rogue are unrelenting, unrepentant in their grief as you bid farewell. It’s harsh, broken protests not willing to let you go.

“She’s taking away a part of me, I don’t accept this.”

The kisses are not ones of goodbye, not just yet. It is only for now, but Vax and Percy pour every fiber of their being and emotion into the painful parting.

“I will find you both again. I swear it, I promise.”

[thecollective-npcs]

time / location : sam’s apartment, early morning 

status: closed to @lazarusdoe​

Once he’d managed to lure Ramses away from the fight he found him in, he made it a point not to take him back to the meet-up point everyone else seemed to be dropping the undead off at. The idea of locking him in some room with a half a dozen unconscious bodies, waiting for the touch of death, was too much for him to bare. And sure, there were some very selfish reasons (both wholesome and not so much) for why he preferred taking Ramses back to the apartment that had been their home together for over fifty years- but that was neither here or there. 

He makes sure to let Lazarus know of his wishes though, once all seemed to have finally quieted down over at the Tower, and made the arrangements that Ramses would be handled the next morning- preferably before he woke, and before Sam managed to fully talk himself into just saying hell with it, and keeping this undead version of his partner around for good. 

And just like they’d arranged, that morning he receives a text on his phone from Lazarus, letting him know they’re on their way. Ramses is mercifully still asleep when the text comes through, and he prays he stays as such, because he’s honestly not sure if he’ll be able to do this with those eyes of his looking at him the entire time. 

Forgoing the bandages, he slips on his sunglasses before Lazarus arrives, and it’s just as he does when he hears a feather light knock on his door. 

“Hey,” he greets Lazarus, whisper quiet as he leads them inside the apartment. “I-I really appreciate you doing this, I know it had to be a pain in the arse coming back into the city this morning.” 

[forensicated]

Smiffina Episodes: Gun Runner Part 5 - Fire Fight (5/5)

Smithy finds himself being followed by a van with Tommy Rose inside. It speeds up, making him have to run to avoid being hit. He's unable to get away at a dead end and Tommy forces him inside at gunpoint to speak to Bob Gatting. Y'know, he'd have gone if Tommy had gotten out and spoke to him nicely too given he knows that the SE1 crew are stumping up the cash? Less fun though I guess (!)

Neil sums up what has happened so far for us uniform and CID in a briefing. Gatting and Cutler are planning to import high powered pistols and machine guns into Canley. The deal is going to go down sometime during the day and hopefully it means Smithy will be returning soon but it's up in the air until they know for certain.

(It's been a real Ultimate Force reunion lately on The Bill - we have Christopher Fox (Louie/Clive 😂) and Sam Callis (Patrick) as it is, but in Witness we got Danny Sapani (Ricky) and in Gun Runner we've had Louis Decosta Johnson (Dave) and now Miles Anderson (Dempsey) )

Wallace is speaking to his solicitor who is a known pain in the arse. The remand center is full so it's likely he's going to be given bail.

Smithy is delivered to the workshop. Gatting asks where Cutler is and Smithy tells him he has no idea. Gatting blames Smithy for George "Jay" Jacobs being held for being an accessory in Sean Seatton's murder after he'd planted the gun in Wallace's car (unknown to Gatting, Wallace and Cutler) so the police could get it back via legitimate means. Smithy says he was all set to dump it in the river but Kieran got caught with it and that it was just bad luck he got pulled over. "No, you screwed up!" Gatting shouts. "You're finished, I'm taking over this deal!" Wallace turns up having gotten bail. Gatting demands an explanation as he reckons someone tipped the police off. Wallace says it wasn't him and Smithy points out he never knew he existed. Wallace shouts Smithy put the gun in the glovebox and set him up. Smithy retaliates that Wallace has been shouting off about Jacobs and the gun to the wrong people and one of them must have informed on him. Rose remembers the conversation the day before when he returned the gun where Wallace got cocky about the gun being fired and Jay 'getting double tapped'. To save his life, cover and the case Smithy has to maintain it and shouts that Kieran does nothing but swagger around like the big I am and he's fed up of covering up for him. He claims Wallace is a liability and can't be part of the job if Gatting wants it to go smoothly.

Gatting agrees and has Rose march Wallace outside for a beating. Smithy feels bad and says he'll do it. He takes him outside, feigns Wallace kicking him and mutters to him to run. Kieran tries but he doesn't get away. He gets a beating as a horrified Smithy, Max and Terry are forced to watch. Smithy tries to stop it by telling Gatting that Kieran is Cutler's nephew. Gatting shrugs. "It's business not family." he replies, considering the matter wiped from the slate now and everyone even. He tells Smithy to arrange a meeting with Cutler to go over the deal. "That's a warning, son." he tells Wallace. "You cross me again and you're dead." He then turns to Smithy. "Now it's your turn in the ring." Smithy tenses but stands his ground. "Only joking!" he laughs, patting his shoulder. Phew! Max worries Smithy isn't ruthless and hopes he doesn't let what happened to Wallace get to him. As they go to drive off, Kieran shouts that Cutler won't stand for it and that Smithy knows it wasn't him. Smithy dispatches him quickly and tells him to go before they start round two.

Max tells Stevie that Smithy won't make their meeting at the house because he has to meet up with Cutler. He tells her to go to the pub meeting instead and to brief Smithy to smooth things over between Gatting and Cutler. Gina is worried that Smithy has been hurt after the mornings antics but Max reassures her he was only manhandled and that it's Wallace who took a beating. Neil reminds him Smithy's safety comes first and that if there's even the slightest hint of things going wrong he's to be pulled out immediately. Gina is clearly NOT happy about him remaining in as things stand.

Stevie speaks to Smithy before Cutler appears, reminding him that Cutler and Gatting need to be on good terms for the deal to happen. Cutler orders her to leave and she moves to the bar. Cutler orders Smithy outside, growling at him about Wallace having bruised ribs, broken fingers and cuts and bruises all over - his mum/Cutler's sister has been giving him earache about it. He blames Smithy for shafting Wallace and Smithy manages to brush it aside by telling him he has a bigger problem with Gatting threatening to take over the deal. After the beating Gatting considers it square so all he has to do is shake on it. Cutler would rather see the deal go tits up. Smithy advises him to paper over it until the jobs done and then have it out. Cutler agrees to but he won't let him think he can get away with it. Smithy updates Stevie and tells her that he's worried it's going to get nasty. Stevie looks over and sees Gatting look in their direction so she kisses Smithy. She sees Gatting walk off and continues the kiss for a while. Smithy asks her what was that and she says it was for cover and making it believable. "Wasn't that what you were doing...?" "... Yeah. Just putting on a show." They hold eye contact for a few seconds before Smithy clears his throat. "Got to go..."

Interpol advise Demitri is really called Osip Kolchek and he has form for human trafficking, drugs and prostitution. He's also suspected of murdering a man he double crossed on a huge drugs deal and Neil is worried he's about to do the same to Cutler.

Smithy tries to broker peace between Gatting and Cutler. Cutler tells Gatting he had no right to beat Wallace up. Smithy points out Gatting is just as much to blame because Rose tried to dump a murder weapon on them without a warning. Gatting admits he should have been told up front and SE1 should have gotten rid of the gun themselves. Gatting irons out the deal finances. Finally they shake hands. Cutler tells them that Demitri has shown him a photograph of the guns, Gatting scoffs and says he'll bring a picture of the cash then. Cutler insists it's all sorted and will happen that afternoon - as long as Gatting brings the payment. Gatting is wary of going to meet him with the cash as he doesn't trust him but Cutler claims it will all go well, Smithy's coming with him to check over the merchandise before they hand the cash over so there is their 'insurance' (yeah. cos they won't be armed outside of that will they (!!). Gatting agrees and snarkily reminds them both to check their brake lights so noone else gets pulled over by the police.

Stevie is flustered after letting herself into Smithy's to find him wearing a vest and unbuttoned jeans after freshening up to wake himself up. "Do you like how it looks?" he asks, fastening his jeans. Stevie almost blushes and watches him. Smithy realises and smirks. "The house!" They flirt in between Smithy unburdening about having had another gun pointed in his face that morning and how he had to drop Wallace in it to save himself and the case. Stevie reassures him he's bound to feel bad because he's a good man and he's on his own in the middle of bad on bad and that he's over identifying and looking for a friend and it's all normal. He tells her that Wallace reminds him a bit of him at that age and that he could have gone the same way if he hadn't joined the army. Stevie reminds him Laurence can feel guilty but Smithy himself has done nothing wrong. She then starts to massage Smithy's shoulders and he gets very confused, leading her upstairs [Heaton, Millie and Banksy's reactions as they watch are hilarious! "That's the bedroom isn't it?" "He's probably debriefing her, sir." Millie: *SNORT*] out the way of the CCTV where he asks her what's going on. Stevie tries to explain it as TLC for Laurence. "You're messing with my head." "Am I...?" she smiles. "Sorry...." Cutler arrives before they can kiss again. As he goes to leave she asks if there's anything else he needs. Smithy smirks and nods at his washing. "You couldn't er.... I haven't had a chance." Stevie rolls her eyes playfully. "Sorry Smithy, I'm just not that sort of girl." "Ah well, was worth a try." "Cheek." She smirks as she watches him go.

Max updates Neil that Smithy has left with Cutler and he in turn updates Gina that he's going to view the weapons. She tells him she'll get uniform ready and meet him in the yard but Neil tells her to keep the troops at the station as it will be 'simpler' and therefore safer.

As Stevie leaves Smithy's with his washing, Wallace appears and threatens her, demanding to know where Smithy is. She tells him that he's gone out and she doesn't know where. He tells her he's crippled because of Smithy and drags her round the side. Banksy orders a uniform unit to do a drive past. Wallace threatens he's going to kill Smithy when he sees him. She tells him Smithy had no chance and that he covered to save both their lives and that he's told Cutler to take him back. He asks her to swear that Smithy put a good word for him with Cutler. She tells him Smithy will get him back in and back on track. Wallace believes her, saying that he knows they were good friends before it and that's why he couldn't understand it. She tells him to go home and stay there and he'll get Smithy to call him. He looks thoughtful then leaves. Banksy cancels the drive past on seeing Stevie appear from the side of the house once Wallace had gone.

Smithy drives him and Cutler to a warehouse. Max and Neil are hiding in a nearby building. Rose and Gatting arrive and Demitri invites them all inside with Gatting ordering Rose to keep an eye out outside. Inside the warehouse Demitri shows them a Mach10, telling them there are no serial numbers, they are brand new and entirely untraceable. Smithy checks it over and tells both Gatting and Cutler that it appears exactly as described. Demitri offers him some bullets and he loads it, aiming it at a target on the far wall. Smithy fires it three times and destroys the target. Gatting gets cocky and offers £1200 instead of £1500. Smithy asks Gatting what he thinks he's doing and Cutler tells Demitri not to listen as Gatting is just joking and they will pay £1500. Demitri doesn't look overly impressed, asking to be shown the money and Gatting pulls out £1500. "What is this?!" Demitri glares. Cutler looks confused. "You agreed to bring the whole payment." Demitri loads the Mach10 again and points it at them as Smithy pleads with him to calm down and they'll get it sorted. He insists Gatting is only joking and that he has the deal as agreed. "I was just joking." Gatting shrugs, laughing. Smithy smooths it over and says they'll take that Mach10 and give him the cash there and then for that one. Gatting throws the money at Demitri's feet and Demitri throws the gun to Smithy. "We'll do the trade tonight. And this time, bring all the money..." Demitri warns.

Gatting and Cutler turn up at Smithy's unannounced. Cutler tells him that they're on and there'll be a blue box van at limeharbour dock at 6pm. Demitri will text him at 5.50pm, he's to phone Cutler when he gets the text and then go to the warehouse to meet Demitri and examine the goods. They'll be at the pub with the money. If he's happy, he's to call and they'll arrive with the payment. Stevie is also at the house and Gatting and Cutler growl at her to go make them some tea. When she does, Cutler tells Smithy to go to the workshop and get himself a gun as he'll need to be armed if he's going to be dealing with Demitri. He agrees and says he'll drop Stevie off on the way but Gatting insists that no, she's making them a cup of tea and they're going to stay to enjoy it and that Tommy will drop her off later.

As he leaves, Gatting tells Cutler they'll take Stevie with them to the pub as insurance. He doesn't trust him since Wallace got nicked. Stevie tries to refuse but Gatting makes it clear there was no offer. She's going. Thankfully Stevie is an experienced former SO10 undercover officer and Neil trusts her to do the best she can with the circumstances and calls a station briefing, telling them what has been agreed and that CO19 will be deployed at the warehouse. Once Smithy confirms the guns are there, CO19 will move in and make arrests with uniform. They will then move to the pub where Smithy will ring Cutler. As they leave the pub, CO19 will make the arrests with support from Sun Hill. Arun is placed to keep an eye on Stevie. They have half an hour until things should start to kick off.

Neil and Max see Demitri arrive. Demitri texts Smithy and Smithy gets a gun out and shows it to the CCTV in the workshop and tells them that Demitri has made contact. In doing so he has to move the Mach10 be on top of the safe whilst he gets it out. Unfortunately Wallace arrives and wants to have it out with Smithy. He claims Stevie lied to him about Smithy speaking to Cutler. Instead of going home like Stevie said, Kieran went to Cutler's where he was told to get lost. He says Smithy lies to everyone and is probably a grass. He rants about how he's not stupid and won't be pushed around and grabs the Mach10 from the top of the safe, pointing it at Smithy.

Terry and Heaton watch, urging Smithy to talk him down. Wallace rants about how it's Smithy's fault and how he stood there and watched whilst he was beaten. Heaton tells Neil what's happening. Max suggests they go in as Demitri is getting jumpy. Neil says the guns might not be there, he could be planning to double cross him or the guns might be at a different location so they have to wait.

Smithy tells Wallace that Cutler told him that he had to break his brake light, plant the gun and let him get caught, probably as he had a grudge against Jay. He tells him Cutler had threatened him with the same beating if he didn't and reminds him he'd tried to let him get away. "Cutler's pure evil, you know that!" He tries to get Wallace to give him the gun but Kieran now wants to kill Cutler. "He'll be at the Boat Arms where he always is, sipping his whiskey, laughing his bald head off! Well he won't be laughing much longer!" He points the gun at Smithy and orders him to open the door. With no choice, Smithy has to do so and Wallace leaves the warehouse to find his uncle. Smithy shouts to the CCTV that he needs an armed support and ambulance to meet him at The Boat Arms before Wallace walks into a packed pub with a machine gun. Terry tries to stop him but Smithy jumps into the car and he speeds off after Wallace.

Demitri is not happy at waiting and is getting jumpy. Neil tells Max that CO19 are needed at the pub as Wallace has gone after Cutler with a Mach10. Neil has no choice, he has to prioritise actual threat to life. He tells Max he should have had another unit standing by but Max assures him this couldn't have been predicted. He tells Neil that they'd still take 20 minutes to get to Smithy even with the blues and twos on and that there'll be an ARV on the way already. He insists they have to take down Demitri and cut the guns off at the source or lose everything. Neil tells CO19 to go in when ready. They take down Demitri's men but the man himself makes a run for it. Max leaps on him as he draws his gun and manages to arrest him. They check the back of the van and find the guns are all there! Max has a moment, remembering his colleague who CO19 lost to a Mach10, telling Neil he should have been there to see it.

There's a bit here that amuses me silly amounts when it really isn't that funny. Max realises the boxes in the back of the van are nailed shut so needs something to pry them open. He doesn't even finish his sentence before Leon The Mind Reader appears and hands him a hammer to pull the lid off with. It's not in the slightest bit funny, nor is it written as though it is but it just happens like Leon carries it round with him just incase someone might need it and leaps to it!

At the pub Cutler claims Smithy should have been in touch by now and he's also getting jumpy. Gatting tells him to stop worrying because it's getting on his nerves. Rose asks if the sirens he can hear are police but Stevie claims it's just an ambulance.

Smithy speeds alongside Wallace's car, trying to box him in. He manages to get in front but Wallace pulls the gun on him again and tells him to get in the car. Smithy tries to reason that he can't use the gun in a packed pub because it'd be carnage. Wallace doesn't care - as long as Cutler is dead. Smithy tries to encourage him to sort it out one to one not with the gun. Kieran points it at him again and tells him to back off. Smithy pulls the gun out of his belt. "I am an armed police officer. Put the gun down. Put the gun down, now!" Wallace realises it was Smithy all along and he lifts the gun. Smithy shouts at him not to do it and as he says he will, Smithy has to shoot him to protect his own life - with milliseconds to spare as Wallace ends up firing into the air after the first shot.

Armed police swarm and Smithy is ordered to step away from the body. Gina shouts that he's one of them and not to shoot. She gets him away then informs Neil. Smithy is clearly massively affected by what he's had to do and Gina shouts at him at one point because he's not listening to her but staring at Kieran's body. She's also affected and terrified at what she saw almost happen to him.

Smithy makes the call to Cutler to tell him that the guns are at the warehouse and that everything is fine. They leave the pub and head towards the car when CO19 and Sun Hill officers - including Smithy - approach to arrest them. Gina tells Smithy that Wallace is dead. "Great, I warned Wallace he could end up dead in the gutter. It's my job to keep guns off the street and me who shoots him dead." Stevie reassures him it wasn't his fault. Gina tells him she'll need a statement from him, finishing it with "And you look a complete shambles. The quicker I get you back into uniform the better!"

Heaton congratulates Smithy on a successful result with their targets arrested and the guns seized. Neil tells him the DPS want to interview him but not to worry, he had no choice and did the right thing. Max asks him why he went after Wallace and Smithy points out he had a machine gun and was threatening to use it. He tells Max he'd followed his rule - whatever you think you need to do, be ruthless and do it. Max tells him he respects that and that he too had tough calls to make but his safety was number one. He admits he didn't think Smithy could hack it at first but he has no doubts about him now. "Good working with you, Smithy." he tells him, shaking his hand. He tells him he's earnt a break but Smithy says there's no chance of that as the DPS and IPCC will be crawling over him for weeks and then the coroners court. Max offers to back him up and sit with him throughout it if he needs someone. Smithy thanks him and leaves CID only to bump into Stevie.

"Ah Laurence..." she teases, asking him how he feels. Smithy admits he's a bit shaky but he feels alright. She tells him she's done his washing and has put it in the Sergeant's office but found a pair of white y fronts in her things. "Well... we've all got a comfy pair, ain't we." he smirks. He asks if they can 'draw a line under them' and she agrees before kissing him, telling him she was just saying goodbye to Laurence 'before boring old Dale comes back on duty'. They exchange smiles and seperate, Stevie going back to CID and Smithy heading towards his office.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Sixteen)

A/N- Not dead! See! Finally getting out another chapter! There will only be two more chapters after this one! Though, when the ending arrives, if demand for a sequel is present, I MAYYYY be tempted as I have really enjoyed writing this story as Mycroft is my favourite character! Uni has just been a pain in my arse, as has my mental health, but I'm trying to find space to write where I can! Anyway, enough of my boring chat, enjoy the new chapter!

Word Count: 3k

Thursday had passed fairly well- neither you nor Mycroft electing to get out of bed until 10am, simply just talking to one another about the following days to come.

"Any clue on what to get Greg yet?" You asked, taking the moment to pull the duvet back up to your neck as the autumnal chill took over.

"A few. Though I must ask why you insist on wrapping up like we're in the middle of the arctic."

"It's October. In London. I'm freezing."

"Y/N, the central heating has practically been on constantly since the temperatures began to drop."

"...Outside looks cold and it makes my inside feel cold." Rather than respond audibly, Mycroft offered a fond eye roll at your childishness and proceeded to pat the section of the bed beside him in an offer of closing the small gap between you. Practically leaping at the chance, you rolled over and lifted Mycroft's arm to rest around you, relishing in the warmth emitting from his being. "You know, for an iceman, you burn like a furnace sometimes." You mused, fighting the urge to close your eyes and fall back into slumber once more.

"Yes, well, 'fireman' would have been a rather misdirecting nickname. I fear I wouldn't have been taken very seriously if people thought a fireman was working in the political field."

"Would've looked dead sexy in the uniform though." Mycroft choked a little at your words before falling into a laugh. "See, no denying it either. Maybe I could get you to make me a calendar all 'Full Monty' style over the front of the truck."

"A disastrous idea, I can assure you.. The red hue of the fire engine, my tinted hair, and slightly reddened cheeks? Major clash, I'd say." You turned around and pressed a quick kiss to said cheeks before grinning.

"Slightly is the understatement of the year. Still, the Clash are my favourite band so I'm sure I could handle the contradicting colours."

"Your jokes are getting worse."

"I'll tell Greg that one tomorrow, he'll love it."

"Not a very redeeming argument, my dear. I have once witnessed Gregory laughing over a monkey flinging its own faeces at a window."

"Touché, Holmes." You then clicked back to the original point of your conversation and spun yourself around to face the man a little more. "Anyway, speaking of Greg, we still need to work out what we're getting him- and whilst I am 100% convinced you have the power to find him a faeces throwing primate, I don't think that's the best way to go. We'll keep it as a plan B though."

Eventually, the pair of you decided to gift Greg a large decanter of one of his favourite whiskies he drinks when he visits Mycroft's home and raids his alcohol cabinet like a teenager. But, feeling as though it wasn't quite enough, Mycroft had arranged for Greg to have the rest of the week, and the following week entirely off work. It wasn't too long ago that Greg was getting upset about not seeing his parents much this year, and how he wants to spend more time with them now that they're getting older. It was only fair to give him this time to himself to get a nice visit under his belt. Only part of you felt a little gutted that your first week back at work would be Gregless, but it was the least you could do. Myc had also arranged for a car to be at Greg's disposal for the journey- having the inclination he would be anxious to leave to his parents' house but still wanting a few drinks at the get together.

The rest of the evening had passed in a relatively tranquil manner, with you and Mycroft watching a movie and placing an order to obtain all of the food you required for tomorrow.

---------------------

Friday morning had arrived at record speed, with you and Mycroft already downstairs by 9am. You'd elected to spend the day with Greg a little earlier than originally anticipated, with the idea being that Greg would likely leave shortly after dinner to have time to get dropped off home to grab some clothes for his trip.

You'd prepped a hearty English breakfast, deciding the greasy and fatty nature of it would be well deserved with your afternoon of alcoholism and socialising in mind. However, Mycroft had elected for a bowl of porridge and you had to pretend to not be completely horrified over his choice.

"I tried to bite my tongue." You spoke as Mycroft raised his spoon to his lips. He grinned before taking the warm mixture into his mouth and humming around the metal.

"For all but twelve seconds.." He mused.

"It's just.. Such a sad breakfast. It's so dull. No colours. Whereas look at this!" You gestured towards the two plates you'd started preparing for Greg's any moment arrival. "Bright orange beans.. Pink bacon.. Yellow eggs.. It's enough to put Joseph's Dreamcoat to shame! Philip Schofield's one, of course. The superior Joseph- not Jason D."

"Were you even alive when either of those took on the role of Joseph?"

"Yes.. Maybe.. Okay, no. But that's besides the point. I was alive when the Donny Osmond film came out so.. there. Let us not be distracted from the sad bowl at hand." Mycroft quickly rose from his chair and fished in the cupboards, grabbed a jar, and sat back down again. Next, he plonked a teaspoon into the red glass container and dolloped a scoop of jam in the centre of the beige bowl before him.

"Satisfied?"

"Hmmm..." You circled round him and scooped a couple more times, deciding Mycroft's central ball of strawberry jam worked perfectly as a nose, and sculpted two small circles for eyes and then a third for the mouth. "Now it's better. Slightly happier to see you."

"It's pouting."

"Maybe it just wants to kiss you." Mycroft raised his brow and you laughed. "Fine. Maybe the jam was too thick to contemplate even attempting a curved smile without you having more jam than porridge... Though that does sound far more delicious." You turned back to plating the rest of the other breakfasts when the door rang.

"I am still unaware as to why Gregory insists on knocking when I've made it perfectly clear that he can come straight in when he's expected. I even left the door unlocked."

"You can bring that one up with him. He lets himself into my flat even when he isn't expected. The man's lucky that he hasn't ended up with a black eye a few times in the past." You joked, heading out to the front door to let in the DI. "Well you certainly look..."

"Devilishly handsome? Good for my age?"

"I was going to say 'less shit' but now you've just made me feel bad. Decent sleep then?"

"Cheeky beggar, you are. And yes, thank you, like a baby. Come out of it feeling thirty years younger." Greg grinned, stepping through the door and hanging his coat on the rack.

"A whole thirty years? That would make you, what, forty?"

"I honestly hate you sometimes. Truly. You are aware that I'm only a few years older than James Bond over there?" He gestured to Mycroft as you headed into the kitchen together.

"Dare I assume that I am, once again, 007 in this case? What did I miss this time?"

"Y/N calling us old."

"I called YOU old. My Bond is still in the flourishes of youth." Greg sat at the kitchen island and peered over into Mycroft's bowl.

"Eating porridge on a Friday at nearly 10am? I'm now doubly offended that I'm placed in your senile category if that's the descriptor of a juvenile."

"Yes, well, my memory equally holds above your own, Gregory. For I remember that I distinctly told you to just come in to my home when you are expected as I will be ready and waiting." Mycroft spoke, lifting another spoonful of porridge to his lips...

"Yeah, well, that was before I had the added risk of finding the pair of you naked and at it on the sofa. Thought I'd spare my eyes." ... and then choking on said porridge.

"Ever a delight, Greg. Now eat your bacon before I blend it and spoon feed it to you." You warned jokingly. "Oh! Did you bring the goods?"

"Yes, thank you. My memory isn't that dreadful. Though your observational skills must be if you didn't see me bring in the same bags you handed to me."

"Too distracted bullying you, I'm afraid." You smirked, spooning in a mouthful of beans before circling the table and taking the bags from Greg upstairs to hide. When you returned, you found the pair of them settled happily into conversation and eating their food. "Dare I say, you had better not be trying to wrangle what your presents are from Greg, Mr Holmes." You scolded playfully.

"He'd be useless if he did. I refused to look in the bags- I knew he'd either read it in my face or manage to make me list them within minutes of arrival." Greg grinned, taking a bite out of his toast. "That and I dare find out what couples buy each other in the honeymoon periods of their sex lives. If my youth taught me anything, it's that it's filthy." You swatted the man at the back of his head before sitting on the other side of Mycroft.

"That's just you, Lestrade. You're the dirty bastard in this room, not us. I dread to think of the kinds of things you picked up when you were younger- and that's just the things you bought."

"Oi, I'm clean. Always have been."

"I must say that euphemisms on sexually transmitted diseases wasn't at the top of the list of conversations I expected to have over breakfast this morning." Mycroft mused, moving to take his now empty bowl over to the sink.

"Even when you've known a born-Lestrade and an honorary-Lestrade for all these years?" Greg snorted.

"Yeah, darling, I think this one's on you for being unprepared." You laughed, following him to place your own plate in the sink and kissed his cheek.

"I agree, sweetheart, you'd ought to know better by now." Greg appeared and kissed Myc's other cheek with a laugh after being pushed away.

----

The evening drew on, the notion of a home cooked meal long gone as it was decided to order enough food for a family of six from a variety of different takeaways while watching a film. Well, decided makes it sound unanimous, but it was really you and Greg being unable to pick a single meal and Mycroft, having enough of the indecisiveness, pulling a Harry Potter 'we'll take the lot' move. Though he did insist that he only wanted his spring rolls and fried rice from the Chinese... at first. The Bombay potatoes from the Indian takeaway and some slices of pizza from his favourite Italian restaurant soon persuaded him to expand his dinner choices.

"I can feel my arteries closing." Greg groaned, throwing a pizza crust towards one of the empty takeaway containers and slumping back to lean on the sofa. "I'm definitely regretting insisting to sit on the floor rather than the table too."

"I did try to advise that it was a terrible idea given such large portions."

"Yeah but there's so much food, I think even your banquet table would've struggled, Myc. Plus we wouldn't have been able to watch The Godfather from the dining room." You chimed in, kicking your plate away from in front of you.

"Oh yes, of course. Nothing quite increased my appetite like the severed head of a horse."

"You're just jealous you never thought of doing that as a threat to all those dodgy politicians." Greg smirked. "I just can't believe you hadn't seen it before, given your field and all that."

"Gregory.. You are aware that I occupy a minor position in the British government, not the mafia?"

"You all wear fancy, expensive suits to work. All the same t'me." Greg stretched his arms above his head before taking a swig of his whiskey. "All this food and drink, I reckon I'll still feel it by work on Sunday. S'pose I better get out your hair before I kip on the carpet." You quickly perked up, brain cogs returning to their functions. Mycroft caught your move and nodded with a smile, heading out of the room for a moment. "What? Was that a secret government code? 'Bout to be infiltrated by MI6 now, am I?" He grinned.

"Less infiltrated, more.. gifted." You mused as Mycroft came back into the room holding a large leather box in his hands. He knelt back onto the ground beside you and handed the box over to Greg.

"From the both of us. Just a small thank you." Mycroft spoke, a grateful smile on his face.

"We both appreciate everything you've done. It's not like you didn't overwork yourself to the bone anyway, so picking up my shifts? Made us love you that little bit more." Greg appeared slightly stunned.

"You know I didn't do it for you to owe me anything. I've said before how much the pair of you mean to me. You're a pain in the arse, but you're like my little sister- which, in turn, makes Myc family too now."

"Just open the box, you soppy git." You grinned. Opening the latch on the side of the case, Greg's eyes widened and he immediately shut it.

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? You appear to enjoy drinking such brand when you come over here? I can always exchange if-" You put your hand over Mycroft's knee and smiled fondly.

"He does enjoy it, Myc. He's just being a stubborn git who doesn't like accepting things from people. He's a nightmare at Christmas."

"Yeah, but there's a difference between- Jesus, this is a single malt Dalmore!"

"Which you enjoy, yes?"

"Well yeah, Myc, but that's not-"

"Then enjoy it."

"It's four and a half grand a sodding bottle!"

"Then enjoy it slowly." You cut in. "I didn't mooch off Myc for it, I put in half, so-"

"Not helping."

"Y/N also insisted that you have the rest of this week and the next off work. It came to my understanding that you hadn't seen your parents for a while."

"I can't af-"

"Paid."

"I called your Da yesterday and your Mum's already done up the spare room. I told her you're a big boy and can make your own bed, but she insisted." You couldn't help but smile at Greg's face.

"And, not to kick you out of course, I have a car due to arrive to take you back home to pack a bag and then take you to see them in about ten minutes." Rather than speaking, Greg all but dived at the pair of you and wrapped his arms around you. You returned the hug immediately, and even Mycroft patted at Greg's shoulder with a little laugh.

"I.. Don't really know what to say." Greg mumbled into your shoulders.

"Just promise me your Da will freeze us some croissants for you to bring back."

"You know he'd rather go to an early grave than freeze his pastries. You'll have to come up on a day you get free. Both of you, that is."

"I'm sure I'll manage to convince Myc to come up. Now, go get your bloody shoes on. If you're so much as a minute late turning up, your Ma will be fretting and I'll get the back end of it!" Greg did as told and rounded up the rest of his stuff before heading to the door and giving the pair of you one last hug and thanks.

"If either of you need me, just call, alright? Oh, and if Sal gives you shit because I'm gone then I'll sort it. Or deck her and I'll sort the papers when I'm home... Oh! And Sherlock. Tell him I won't be here for cases or he'll go hunting for me. And-"

"When was the last time you had a week off work?"

"About fifteen years ago."

"Exactly- now go enjoy it. I'll slap Sal and I'll get John to sort Sherlock. Now go before I force you into the car- and that really won't seem like a heartwarming move to the neighbours."

"Right yeah. Going. Thanks again. For all of it.. But honestly if you-"

"Go, Gregory. It'll be sorted and we'll be fine." Mycroft encouraged with a laugh. And then off Greg went. The pair of you went back into the front room and cleared away the remnants of dinner before all but collapsing onto the sofa, Mycroft sat with his head hanging over the back, and you laying across the length of the chair with your head in his lap.

"I'd consider that at least marginally successful." You spoke, eyes closed in relaxation. "Though you'll have to come and meet Greg's parents now."

"I'm sure I will survive."

"Mmm.." You agreed sleepily. "Consider it a step towards meeting the real potential in-laws. Though my parents can't make French pastries. Load of old bollocks really considering they buggered off across the channel."

"I'll look forward to it." He spoke, stiffening slightly.

"You're already scared, aren't you?"

"Terrified."

[sserpente]

Sworn enemies 🎃

Imagine Loki and you being sworn enemies. You hate him and he hates you... right? His arrogance and smugness are quite frankly a pain in the arse and really the only reason you tolerate him is because of your good friend Thor. So when you throw an Asgardian-themed Halloween party for the Thunderer now that his home planet has been destroyed, you are more than displeased when Loki too shows up to provoke you to the point he brings you to a white heat. But when the alcohol you consumed taunts that with how selfish the God of Mischief must be, surely he would not even be able to please a woman in bed, Loki begins to plot his revenge. The very same Halloween night, he sneaks into your room to prove you wrong...

A/N: Now... let (C)Oc(k)tober finally begin. Requests from @fandom-rpblog​ and two anons.

Words: 4168 Warnings: shameless smut, dub-con

This story contains themes that may be offensive and/or triggering for some readers. Please be aware that this is only a piece of fiction and make sure to heed the warnings before proceeding. For more information on the topic of dark themes, please refer to my FAQ. 

-

Being part of the Avengers wasn’t always easy—especially as a secretary. What the superheroes had no time for in terms of organisation and finances, you handled with the help of Pepper Potts. Even though your job consisted of four relatively safe office walls, a tidy desk and the latest Apple computer, living in the Tower with the very people who had saved the planet not only once but numerous times already was hardly boring and monotone.

You got along well. It was especially Thor you had taken into your heart. Hours after you left the office to look back at another busy day, you would sit with him in the living room while you sipped delicious white wine as he told you stories about Asgard. Your curiosity reminded him of his ex-girlfriend Jane Foster, he had admitted. In spite of there being no romantic spark between you though, you were more than happy to listen to his many conquests and his knowledge of the nine realms. It truly took your mind off things after a long day filled with paperwork, pressing e-mails and heavy folders you could barely even lift anymore.

Peace, however, was soon forgotten when, after a longer absence of the Thundergod, he did not return alone. Loki was not exactly on the list of people you had been dying to meet, not after New York City. You were furious when Thor announced that his mischievous brother would from now on be part of the team, even though the circumstances of this arrangement shook you to the core.

Two months had now passed since the destruction of Asgard—this beautiful shiny realm Thor had told you so much about. You had been chatting with him less and less lately. Thor was busy spending time with Loki. You could not deny it made you happy seeing the Thunderer work on his brotherly relationship, the fact it involved Loki… not so much.

For Thor’s sake, you had tried. You had tried growing friendly feelings towards the God of Mischief beyond the other Avengers’ cool and rejecting behaviour but in your defence… he was not making it easy. Loki was the most arrogant, most selfish and most self-absorbed narcissist you had ever had the displeasure to meet. His confidence was blinding, his apathy a nightmare and quite frankly, so it seemed, he only acted like a complete arsehole whenever you were around. Thank you, Loki. I hate you too.

It was a thought which had become your mantra—an almost comforting phrase you kept repeating in your head whenever you ran into each other. Much like today. The Avengers Tower was big but quite apparently not big enough for your convenience. You elected to ignore him when you found him sitting on the sofa with Thor. He had been trying to introduce him to the concept of movies a while back and if Loki was at all impressed, he did not show it.

“So…” You began, diminishing his presence completely, “I was thinking about throwing a Halloween party this year.”

“I would have thrown one anyway.” Tony argued. You nodded.

“I was hoping if this year, we could do it… a little different. Since Asgard was, you know… perhaps we could celebrate Halloween the Asgardian way?”

“Asgard did not celebrate Halloween.” Loki remarked. He gave you a condescending glare. Here we go again. You rolled your eyes.

“I figured that. There must have been something similar though.”

“Well… actually… now that you say it…” Loki rolled his eyes once more—Thor’s, in return, lit up like a Christmas tree. “We call it Vetrnætr, a three-day long celebration to greet the cold season. See, while we honoured the Norns in merriment and feasts, early humans… Stark, what did you call them?”

“Vikings.” Tony jumped in.

“Right, the Vikings, during this time of the year, made sacrifices to us, the light elves and the Valkyrie—festivities also known as Álfablót and Dísablót.”

“So it’s a feast?” You probed. Thor nodded.

“A feast held with lots of ale and friendly fights.”

“Then that is how we should celebrate this year. I’m sure Sif could help me pick out some costumes which will resemble Asgardian clothing. It will be like a motto party!” And just perhaps it would cheer Thor up a little… if Loki did not ruin it that was. As of right now, he raised an eyebrow in a clearly incredulous manner.

“Do you truly believe that you could hold an Asgardian feast? I beg of you, do not embarrass yourself.”

You glared at him coldly. “I never said you would be invited.”

Loki stood, easily succeeding in intimidating you as he towered above you like a giant. By the time he responded, his face was so close to yours you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“Well, pet… I never said I needed an invitation.”

You shivered when he grabbed your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his blue gaze. He might have been an arsehole but he was an attractive arsehole. But that was something you would not even admit under torture.

In the meantime, Loki had the audacity to smirk. Knowingly. “Let go of me.” You hissed.

“Let go of her, Reindeer Games. She may be my secretary but she could still kick your ass!” Thank you, Tony. It was a lie, of course. You had never even thrown a punch, let alone fired a gun. If you got lucky, you might have been able to kick Loki’s shin but, given both his vigilance and reflexes, you would likely end up at the receiving end of the pain.

Loki chuckled. “Could she now? I would like to see her try.” For a moment, you considered kneeing him right in the crotch. Surely that would hurt even a god. Before you had a chance, however, he moved away from you—and oddly enough made you feel like you had just lost a battle.

-

It was clear, so you figured, that it would be impossible to keep Loki away from your Halloween party. Despite your dislike for the arrogant god, you were not usually the type of person to exclude others from any kind of social activities, in Loki’s case, however, you had a feeling he would make sure to either ruin the party or bring you to a white heat.

In that case, you might as well prove him wrong and throw the best Asgardian Vet… Vit… whatever Thor had called it he had seen yet. The next couple of days, you kept yourself busy organising all the while avoiding Loki like the plague.

So when the day finally arrived and the living room in the tower resembled an Asgardian meat hall, with all the guests wearing clothing you had a tailor make, you were more than just a little displeased when Loki joined the party. Much like Thor who had been as happy as a bear who had found a beehive ever since the day started, he was wearing his Asgardian attire. Resilient black leather clothes as well as black boots accentuating his form, a long cape flowing behind him like a green river and that golden horned helmet you were so familiar with reflecting in the dim light of the living room.

“I know he is your brother but if he doesn’t behave, I will throw him out.” You said, lips pressed together to a thin line as he approached you like he owned the damn place.

Thor smiled at you gently. “No worries… I think he will enjoy himself as well tonight.” But much like Tony, you were not convinced. There was mischief sparkling in Loki’s blue eyes when he reached your casual circle, not even remotely interested in getting himself a drink and more like… looking to cause trouble instead.

“We’re not… sacrificing anyone tonight though like the Vikings, are we? I saw it on TV, you know, that show with Travis Fimmel?” Peter said just then. He was the only one among you sipping only orange juice and coke tonight—at least for now. You had promised that you would spike his drink when Tony wasn’t looking.

Loki hummed. “Perhaps we should sacrifice the host to please the Norns… even though I do believe they would not want your humble life. In fact, surely they would be rather insulted to receive your soul as a gift of respect and humility, pet.” Ouch. Now that hurt.

“Stop calling me pet, arsehole!” Loki laughed, completely unimpressed by your outburst. Much to your triumph, however, even he could not hide the glimmer of adoration upon seeing the Avengers’ Tower transformed into a new Asgard.

“Just admit it,” you spat with a scornful smile. “This party is a success. Thor is loving it.”

Languidly, Loki eyed you up and down, seemingly taking in every single detail from head to toe. Your Asgardian hairstyle, your dark blue dress with the copper breast plate and your knee-high boots, nothing escaped his attention—and very much to your dismay, you felt yourself heating up under his intent gaze.

“Thor loves a great many things as long as they come from Midgardians. It is not terrible.” He admitted eventually.

“It’s not terrible? Is that the best you can do? How about ‘I was wrong, this party is great and I am sorry I doubted you’?” You batted your eyelashes at him, a spiteful smile growing on your lips. You almost flinched when you elicited a low growl from him. But you were absolutely not having it.

“You know, perhaps more people would like you if you weren’t such a selfish prick.” You knew you were moving on thin ice—but then again, Loki was not allowed to hurt you and the alcohol in your blood made you brave.  Besides, you longed to get back at him for considering you as a disrespectful sacrifice for whomever it was Asgardian gods honoured. “I bet you are so selfish you couldn’t even please a woman in bed, Loki.” Peter almost choked on his coke and while Tony stifled a laugh, Thor’s lips parted in utter shock.

Loki’s nostrils flared. He was about to answer when you registered Natasha’s surprisingly calm voice intervening. “I would advise you to not say anything now that you will regret later, Loki.” The God of Mischief narrowed his eyes at her.

“Are you suggesting I am I not permitted to defend myself against such filthy accusations?”

“You started it!” You yelled, almost desperate now. “I didn’t even say anything and you just… You know what, Loki, get out of here! We don’t want you at this party and I think you know that!” At least not when he was going to offend you all night long and ruin your mood.

Who were you kidding? Your mood was already ruined now.

“I will not. This is an Asgardian party. I was raised among Asgardians, hence I will stay.” He stated, expression blank. No one, not even Thor was able to tell just how much the entire situation amused him.

To be frank, he was indeed rather impressed by what you had accomplished with this feast but he would certainly not grant you the satisfaction of letting you in on his admiration for your Asgardian Halloween party. Truth be told though, it was much rather admiration for you, not for your feeble attempt to make Thor forget about the destruction of their home planet.

You were incredibly brave for snapping at him like that, for not even most of the Avengers dared to provoke him in this way—all of them too anxious he would start another attempt at world domination. They only tolerated him because of Thor, genuinely disliked him. You, on the other hand, did not.

Loki was perceptive enough. You only wished to hate him but you did not. Instead, your anger was a mere victim of your own lust and desire, the forbidden fruit, so to speak. You were not aware, of course. Not yet anyway.

Tonight had proved to him just how much he needed to have you, to own you, to show you what provoking the God of Mischief would get you into. Unbeknownst to you, tonight had stirred up that longing of his into dizzying heights. You had awoken his hunting instinct and now you would pay the price.

Oh, how he would love to prove you wrong. It was true, to some extent—Thor had indeed enjoyed more attention from the young Asgardian ladies back in the day but those who had preferred the second-born over the God of Thunder had not regretted their decision. He was not known for having a silver tongue for no reason.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to leave, Reindeer Games.” Tony added. “(Y/N) has a good point. Thor, would you escort him or do I need to put my suit on?”

“I will not ask my brother to leave, Stark. Loki, apologise.” As if on cue, Loki raised both his eyebrows. Instead of voicing a complaint, however, he smirked once more.

“I will if she does.”

“Wow, this is like kindergarten all over again.” Natasha grumbled. “Thor, would you mind taking your brother elsewhere? You should get him a drink, (Y/N) has outdone herself with the ale.”

“Well, I am thirsty.” His remark was accompanied by one last scornful smirk.

“Has Loki done something to you?” Natasha barked as soon as they were out of sight. Looking after them with your lips pursed.

“No… it’s just… he really gets under my skin and he constantly tries to provoke me.”

“He tries to provoke all of us.”

Peter nodded. “Even me…”

“It’s Loki. Just forget about it.” She advised, patting your shoulder. With a sigh, you shook your head. Easier said than done.

-

Loki had you right where he wanted now, on the verge of a temper tantrum. Perhaps in time you would even attempt to attack him and if you did… he hummed. It would take him mere seconds to overpower you and press you flat against a wall.

Thor had made him promise to leave you alone for the rest of the night. His reluctant agreement resulted in watching you from afar like a hawk. You were tense—like you could feel his lascivious and scrutinising gaze on you.

He knew about how you kept insisting that you hated him to the core and even though he fought hard to live up to this nerve-wrecking reputation you had granted him in your presence purely out of spite, he had never declared the same. You were quite exhausting, yes… but he had always appreciated a challenge.

The clock had struck four by now. Due to the excessive amounts of alcohol flowing at a party your Asgardian Halloween celebration had ended earlier than he had expected and the entirety of the Tower had retreated to their bedrooms by now. Thor was sound asleep, drunk and content—and despite you had remained rather sober tonight, he was hoping you were in a deep slumber too. It was time for his revenge.

A devilish smile formed on his thin lips. Graceful like a cat, he stood and made his way to your room, moving through the dark hallways unseen and unheard. Once he reached your door, closed shut, his grin widened. Mutely, he slipped inside, finding you sound asleep in your bed.

Now this truly was a tempting sight—a feast for his eyes, so to speak. You had abandoned your dark blue dress for the night. It hung over your desk chair as if you had only just slipped out of it, relinquished any sleepwear and hid straight under your warm and cosy covers.

There was no doubt you were sleeping entirely naked. Loki suppressed a chuckle. What a delightful finding. The mousy secretary sorting paperwork in the background while the superheroes saved the world, sleeping naked in her bed, the blanket hugging every single curve of your body…

You would pay the price now for your loose mouth. He would make you beg for him to stop—and then, he would make you beg for him not to stop. He could hardly await the whimpering sounds he would elicit from you upon you realising it was him bringing you pleasure, making you beg for release, beg for more. Him, Loki, whom you asserted you hated so much.

Fragile little mortal… you would be entirely helpless, unable to escape the way he would make you feel. Smiling to himself, he reached for your blanket and slowly pulled it off your body; resisting a gasp when his blue eyes caught sight of your bare form.

He understood with a start how infatuated Thor must have been with Jane back in the day. Mortals could be rather alluring after all… He was still smiling when he crawled on the mattress, the scent of your lovely skin nearly overwhelming him as he got closer and slowly pried your legs apart. His hands were so big they covered your entire knees.

It was dark in the room—but Loki’s Jötun senses were heightened. He could just make out your pretty lips, hiding a luscious treasure. They would look even more beautiful once there were plump and swollen, your pearl peeking out desperate for attention.

Now, he thought, let us see how well I can please a woman. You had played right into his cards with your filthy remark. Even if he had wanted to… he could not possibly resist you now.

Loki lowered his face between your legs in joyful anticipation, his warm breath ghosting over your bare pussy. You stirred a little but remained sound asleep—completely unaware of the god between your thighs. He let out a quiet moan when he gave the very centre of your body a long lick. You tasted even better than you smelled.

Like a starving wolf, he buried his face between your legs, devouring your most intimate parts like it was his last meal. His tongue swirled over your clit, again and again. Soon, your juices started flowing. Still asleep, you grew more and more aroused until, unconsciously, you bucked your hips up to meet his eager mouth. A whimper, much like he had predicted it, escaped your lips when he sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, massaging it with the tip of his tongue.

The moment he buried two of his long digits inside your warmth and started stroking your g-spot with a greedy moan which sent shockwaves through your entire body was the moment your eyes fluttered open. Pleasure soared through you like a merciless heatwave in summer, your body all but ready to let go and drown in dizzying bliss. It took you a second to come back to your senses, to realise what was happening. You jerked wide awake, switching on the lamp on your bedside table—unable to shake off whoever had sneaked into your room and latched onto your pussy like a hungry vampire. A strong arm was wrapped around your hips, keeping you from escaping the pleasure. You looked down… and found Loki eating you out like you had never been eaten out before.

What… that arsehole… how dared he… fuck, it felt so good. Your eyes met, your rapid breathing—exposing just how close you were to orgasm—mixing with angry pants.

“Loki… what the fuck are you doing… get away from me!” It was no use, of course. Loki’s muscles were made of steel. He did not budge an inch when you struggled on your back like a helpless beetle. The God of Mischief chuckled, the vibrations of his voice enhancing your pleasure even more. Hot panic struck you. If he did not stop, he would make you… he would make you… it did not matter how much you longed for this, you would not give him that satisfaction...

“Oh… fuck… Loki, s-stop this?”

You did not sound too convinced—a notion which the God of Mischief did not fail to notice. Heavens, it felt so amazing and you were already no longer in control of your own body. You arched your back when you came undone before his eyes, on his mouth, your climax consuming you like liquid fire. Loki was relentless. He did not stop until he was sure you had ridden out every last wave of your high, enjoying with deep satisfaction in his chest how your tight walls clenched around him rhythmically. You were gushing for him, and his thirst was unquenchable. Growling in an animalistic manner, he lapped up everything you gave him until you were but a shivering and spent mess in his steel grip.

Shame washed over you. This must have been a dream—or a nightmare, you could not decide. Did you truly let Loki eat you out? The bastard had practically assaulted you! Even worse, he… he had known how much you had needed this. How much you had needed this from him, you added silently.

Finally, Loki released you. He towered above you like a predator, ready to devour his prey. And when you looked into his blue eyes sparkling with hunger and desire for you, there was no doubt that prey was what you were. Helpless, innocent prey at its captor’s mercy…

As much as the thought aroused you, the very stubborn and rational part of you only fuelled your anger at the God of Mischief.

“Have you lost your mind? How dare you? You fucking—” Loki’s kiss was rough, if you didn’t know better almost desperate. He stole away your breath within a heartbeat, forcing himself between your legs faster than you even had a chance to react and keep him away with a powerful kick.

With but a green shimmer of light, his clothes practically melted off his body, revealing a defined body seemingly made out of marble. You swallowed thickly when he broke the kiss to let you inhale, your lips still parted in exhaustion, indignation and the pleasurable waves still lingering in your body.

You only just caught sight of his intimidating manhood. Loki was without a doubt much bigger than any mortal man you had ever shared your bed with. You felt irritated. You were not concerned at all, in spite of your slickness, that he would fit all the way inside of your tiny body—for it was tiny compared to his—without hurting you but instead, a most primal side of you longed for him to fill you, to claim you and mark you.

“Fuck!” A pleasurable moan escaped your lips when he sheathed himself inside you to the brim, meeting only little resistance. How could this feel so right? So wonderful? So blissful? Another moan unwillingly escaped your lips.

“I fucking hate you!” You hissed into his ear, nails digging into his back hard enough you hoped you would at least hurt him a little. Loki, however, appeared to become turned on more and more by your rage. His low chuckle rippled through you like a thunderbolt, pooling right between your legs. The heat was nearly unbearable, your clit throbbing with need. There was no need for him to touch it. His hard length knew exactly what to do. The way he had positioned himself he hit all of your secret pleasure spots as he thrust into you roughly, driving you closer and closer to another mind shattering orgasm than you would have liked.

“No…” He growled smugly, snatching your wrists to pin them down above your head, rendering you completely helpless. “You do not.”

No. You did not. Had he known this entire time? That you did not hate him but hated yourself for being attracted to him? Heavens, you hadn’t even known yourself. This wasn’t fair, this… oh God…

“Fine! I don’t... Fuck... harder. Loki, harder...” You begged him.

You screamed in pure ecstasy when you came again, this time clamping down on his cock. Loki groaned, fucking you even more vigorously and desperate for his own release now. His grip around your wrists tightened when he spilled himself inside of you, his cock twitching against your walls as you felt ropes of his warm seed filling you up and stealing away even the last of your defiance.

Defeated, you relaxed beneath him, the weight and warmth of his body making you feel oddly secure. He softened inside of you but made no move to pull out. And you did not want him to.

“Tell me now, pet… tell me you admit you were wrong to make such obscene accusations about me.”

“Shut up, Loki.”

“Oh?” Goosebumps spread on your skin when you noticed his mischievous grin. “Do you require a few more orgasms to be fully convinced?” You were too weak to giggle or even roll your eyes, your breathing still heavy. And before you had another chance to respond with something cocky, Loki’s lips were already back on yours.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[writingwithacupoftea]

Quiet

Summary: Following Grace’s death, Tommy shuts himself off from the rest of the world, dealing with all of the noise in his head alone. But Y/N Shelby will be damned if she doesn’t try to help her brother...

Word Count: 3158

A/N: This has unexpectedly become my 200 follower celebration fic, so thank you again!! I was getting my doctor-prescribed daily dose of Cillian Murphy the other day watching his video about the rise of Tommy Shelby, and the part where he talks about Tommy being burdened by his intelligence for some reason made me think of Matilda. So, the song ‘Quiet’ from Matilda the Musical (which I love btw, I’m a massive musical theatre nerd) became the inspiration for this fic. Hope you enjoy it!!

Y/N Shelby was always a source of amazement to the rest of her family. Being the second youngest of the Shelby clan, it had come as a shock to her three elder brothers that she could be quite as ruthless as them when it came to business and enemies who threatened her family. However, it wasn't just that which truly surprised them: it was the fact that she still managed to retain her heart of gold. This was largely reserved for her family and, despite the violence and atrocities committed by them in front of her very eyes, she loved them unconditionally (even if they were a pain in the arse sometimes).

When Tommy bought Arrow House, he also acquired the little cottage on the estate. Knowing that Y/N was getting restless at the prospect of still living with her family as she approached her twenties, Tommy had given the place to her to do with as she wished. This arrangement pleased both siblings immensely. Tommy and Y/N had always had an incredibly close relationship, despite the large age gap, and the cottage's location meant that Y/N got the independence that she so desperately wanted, whilst also being close enough for them to see each other as often as they wished.

(As well as this, it gave Tommy peace of mind that the only way to access the cottage was to cross the grounds which lay in front of Arrow House. This meant that any enemies would have to go past the blinders stationed in front of his house, then through Tommy himself, and finally deal with the blinders outside of Y/N's cottage in order to get to her. Oh, and he always knew when she dared to bring a boy back with her.)

Everything was going perfectly, and Tommy and Y/N were, for once, happy with their lives.

And then Grace died.

For two weeks after the funeral, Tommy spent most of his time riding around the estate, thinking by himself. He didn't want to see anyone apart from his son. Sometimes, depending on where he stopped at night, Y/N could see her brother at a distance from her living room. She longed to run to him, not to tell him that she was sorry and offer her condolences because she knew he'd be sick of that already. Y/N just wanted Tommy to know that he didn't have to fight every battle alone.

Then, out of the blue, there came a point when he stopped doing that. Instead, Tommy chose to throw himself into his work, providing a different type of isolation. He barely left the house, locking himself away in his office, and when he did go out on business he hardly told a soul. According to Mary (who secretly phoned Y/N every week to let her know how Tommy was doing) he seemed lifeless now, as if he were the one that died, not his wife. Her employer was even quieter than he usually was, and Y/N knew that that was when his brain got the loudest.

Y/N refused to sit by and let him destroy himself for any longer...and she knew just the trick to bring her brother back to life.

***

The phone on Tommy's desk seemed to ring even louder than usual, adding to his pounding headache. He hadn't left the house in three days, not that he'd noticed it, and was more on-edge than ever. With a sigh, he picked up the receiver.

"Tom?" Despite the million thoughts that clogged up his brain, he couldn't help the flicker of a smile that passed over his face upon hearing his little sister's light voice, something he'd gotten so used to when she'd lived with him. But that calm didn't last long before his brain went into overdrive again.

"You alright?" He had tried his best to keep any tones of alarm and worry at bay, but knew that he had failed when his voice faltered on the last word.

"I'm fine, I just need to you pop over and help me move a bookcase."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Tommy replied steadily, "Y/N, I'm waiting on about three different phone calls and I have a business to run. Why don't you ask -" He paused, looking at the list in front of him, "Ben or Harry to help you, eh?" (They were in charge of guarding Y/N's house during the daytime this week, according to the rota.)

"I mean I would do, but I've given them the weekend off, and quite frankly you're the closest other person, Tom."

The man in question froze. "You've sent Ben and Harry away?"

"Yes."

"For an entire weekend?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me about it?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at Y/N?" Tommy was shouting now, furious that his sister would be this stupid. "I thought you had more sense than this!"

"Actually, Thomas, I think in this case I've got more sense than you. They've been outside this house for two, nearly three, weeks now because you haven't stood them down and you won't let me do it myself. How do you expect them to do their job properly if they're dead on their feet?"

Tommy fell silent, his heart beating at a mile a minute, worry taking over from his anger. What if someone took advantage of this moment? What if they used this opportunity to take his sister from him, like they took his wife? He was terrified, and the worst part was that it would be entirely his fault: he should never have let this fuck up happen, he should've kept a closer eye on his sister. Y/N lived on his grounds, anyone that came for Tommy would inevitably go for her as well.

He didn't even bother to try and conceal the tremor in his voice when he finally spoke again. "Okay, I'm coming over. Do not, I repeat, do not leave your house, alright? Don’t open the door to anyone but me, either. Have you got a gun with you?"

"Tom, you made sure that an entire armoury was installed here before I even set foot in the place, yes I have a gun."

"Good. Keep it with you, make sure it's loaded. I'm on my way."

Tommy hadn't even put the receiver down before he was on his feet, scrambling to get ready. Guilt and worry consuming him, Tommy made another phone call to get some more men stationed outside Arrow House, went up to the nursery and kissed Charlie goodbye, and then told Mary of his plan. Tommy would be staying with his sister until Monday morning – he was taking his sister's safety into his own hands this time.

It was common knowledge that the patriarch of the Shelby family didn't give a toss about religion any more, but as his pace quickened down the drive of Arrow House that Saturday morning, he sent a prayer up to anyone who was listening that he wouldn't be too late.

***

Livid. That's the only way to describe how Tommy felt upon turning the corner to his sister's cottage. For there she was, stood in the open doorway, clearly waiting for him. As he got closer, Tommy noticed that Y/N was wearing one of his old shirts under her worn grey cardigan, with a gun tucked into the top of her rolled up, oversized trousers. She also had a gentle smile on her face, the one that was reserved only for her family members.

Shaking a stern finger at his sister as he marched over to her, Tommy stated in a dangerous tone "I told you to stay indoors."

Y/N's smile moulded into a smirk. "Yeah, and I told you that Ben and Harry had the weekend off, not that there was no one guarding the house. Eddie and Will took their place last night."

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, whether out of relief or frustration, neither of the siblings knew. "You are in so much trouble." His tone was far from teasing, and anyone else would be quaking at the knees. But not Y/N.

"I thought I would be, but you can shout at me as we walk." Y/N grabbed a large basket from inside the door before locking it. "Come on!"

"You're not going fucking anywhere until -"

"You know, Thomas, the further away I get the less I'll be able to hear of you telling me off." Y/N hadn't even turned around or stopped to say it, she just kept walking.

"For fuck's sake," Tommy muttered angrily under his breath and then started moving to try and catch up with her.

***

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for making you panic so much." Tommy had only just caught up to Y/N, and had opened his mouth to continue speaking when she cut him off. "I knew you wouldn't leave the house unless I made you think that I was in danger. You were always too good of a big brother to risk that."

Tommy was rendered speechless by her words. He had neglected her for over a month, barely speaking to her and never visiting – how could she still claim that he was a good brother?

As if she could hear his thoughts, Y/N continued to speak. "You're grieving, Tom. I didn't expect anything from you, no matter how much I wanted to see you. Although you haven't been checking that the blinders change over, that part of my call was true. But I've been taking care of it, so I've been safe the entire time. Don't go blaming yourself for anything else."

"We thought that Grace was safe." That was the first thing that Tommy had said in minutes, and his anger at being lured into his sister's trap lay forgotten for the time being. Y/N simply placed her free hand into the crook of Tommy's arm and squeezed it.

"You probably think I'm so selfish for doing this, but I promise I'm not just doing it for me." She paused, almost reluctant to put her next question out into the open. "Everything's getting loud again, isn't it?"

Tommy stared at the ground as they kept walking further and further away from either of their houses, wordlessly confirming her suspicions. He let out a small chuckle. "You always know, don't you, sweetheart? For someone so young, you don't miss much."

Y/N breathed out a laugh. "When you grow up with John and his bloody booby traps all over the house, you do tend to notice everything and more."  

That was enough to bring out the first proper smile that Tommy had produced since his wife's death. He had forgotten what a tonic his sister could be – just her presence and gentle voice was enough to soothe him and ease some of his pain. Tommy brought his free hand up to rest on top of her small one, still nestled into the crook of his arm, and she responded by leaning her head against his shoulder contentedly.  

They continued to walk in silence before Tommy realised that, for once, he had no clue what they were doing. When he asked, his sister's answer made him stop in his tracks.

"Nothing?"

"Yep." Y/N smiled at him proudly. "Absolutely nothing."

"Y/N, I don’t have time to -"

"Everyone has the time to do nothing, Tommy, even you." Her brother sighed in defeat, knowing that there was no point in starting an argument over it (the look that Y/N was giving him was enough to tell him that he'd lost it before it had even begun).

"Alright, fine. But how am I supposed to do nothing and clear my head at the same time, eh?" His tone boarded on impatient.

"You'll figure it out soon enough." Y/N responded, calmly.

***

She was right, of course. They had laid down the blankets that had been tucked away in Y/N's basket and for a while they simply watched the clouds dancing across the sky, bringing back fond memories for Tommy: he had done this countless times with his mother before she passed, and afterwards he used to take a much younger Y/N out to do the same before the war took over. Tommy let the rustling of the wind in the trees and the singing of the birds melt away the endless stream of thoughts in his head. His sister had also been clever enough to bring them so far out into the Warwickshire countryside that he knew that no-one would find them, causing a feeling of safety and freedom to wash over him for the first time in years.

Tommy reached over and held Y/N's hand in his, and whispered "Thank you, bug," just loudly enough for her to hear.

Y/N turned her head to smile at him and squeezed his hand. But then she frowned at her brother, causing him to mirror her expression. "Tom, you've got some grey hairs coming. Seriously, I can see them now, just at the side."

His lips parted in shock as her expression turned into one of mirth. "You cheeky fucker." Tommy's tone was deadly serious; however, Y/N knew her brother well enough to know what was coming next. She just managed to roll out of the way before Tommy's hand reached out to tickle her stomach.

Before they both knew it, Y/N was running like her life depended on it and Tommy was following in hot pursuit, uncontrollable laughter bubbling out from both of them.

***

A few hours later and night had fallen. Tommy had built a fire some time ago, and Y/N was sat by it, reading. He realised that, whilst the scene wasn't too dissimilar to the one he created every night in the weeks following Grace's funeral, it was also entirely different. Before, he had only focused on the thoughts constantly whizzing around in his brain, not noticing anything else going on around him.  

But now, everything was quiet. Not silent, for that would surely send all of the noise flooding back into his head. The sounds of the pages turning steadily in his sister's book provided that nice sort of quiet which meant that that noise just...stopped. Y/N hadn't actually tried to distract him from his grief or his thoughts, either, or tried to get him to talk about it as so many other people had done; all Y/N did was bring him physically away from everything and been there, a strong presence without pressure. For that, he loved her more than ever.

Tommy looked up as Y/N released a long sigh, having just finished her last chapter. He noticed her shiver slightly when a cool breeze brushed over the field, and fished another blanket out of the basket as she walked over to sit next to him. Tommy wrapped the soft material tightly around her and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her in for a one-armed hug.  

Breaking the silence, Y/N looked up and said "The stars are so much brighter out here than in Small Heath."

Tommy hummed in agreement. "When you were little and we were on the road with mum, I used to point out all the different constellations to you."

"I don't remember that."

"Well, you were always about half asleep."

"Do you still remember them?"

"I do."

"Would you show me them again?"

The question was asked with such innocence that Tommy glanced down at his sister, and saw her bright blue eyes staring back up at him, eyes that had him wrapped around her little finger. He laid down, patting the space next to him, encouraging her to do the same. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"

He was rewarded with a big, beaming smile.

***

When Y/N started to yawn and her eyelids began to droop, lulled by the warmth and her brother's steady voice, Tommy decided that it was time for them to head back. He bundled everything back into the basket bar one blanket, which he layered on top of the other one covering his sister once they started walking away from the dying fire (despite Y/N's apparent annoyance at his fussing).

Tommy was still set on staying in his sister's spare room for the weekend, wanting to make up for lost time. Part of him also still worried that she would be taken away from him, and knew that there wasn't much chance of him sleeping if he returned to his own bed. After all that she had done for him today, Tommy couldn't bear to leave her just yet.

He carried the basket in one hand, and Y/N had wrapped both of her arms around his other arm, revelling in the chance to be so close to her brother again, and not just physically. Y/N wasn't naïve in her view of Tommy: he was cold, brutal, rude and relentless, and she knew that. But she had also never wavered in her belief that parts of the Tommy that she knew before the war were still there; they were simply buried deep within, so much so that it was slowly becoming more and more difficult to bring them to the surface.  

However, looking up and noting the absence of a crease between Tommy's brows, she couldn't help but feel that she could afford herself a small victory this time.

"I'm always here for you, Tom," Y/N mumbled, seemingly out of the blue. "When you need some quiet, and remember that I always know when you do, I'll never get bored of things like this."

Tommy was silent, and Y/N wondered if she'd ruined it and pushed it too far. But then she heard him clear his throat and quietly reply "That sounds perfect, sweetheart," and her worries washed away in an instant.

***

As the siblings stepped over the threshold of the cottage, exhaustion hit both of them. Y/N headed to the kitchen and Tommy made his way towards the living room. Upon his arrival, however, he stopped in the doorway and simply stared in...

"Y/N?" He called, confusion seeping into his voice.

The woman in question appeared behind him, and peered over her brother's shoulder at the bookcase abandoned in the middle of the room. "Fuck, I'd forgotten about that. Well, you can move it out of the way while I make tea – it's what I called you here to do anyway." Y/N began to wander back towards the kitchen, ignoring the befuddled, yet amused, expression on her brother's face. "Thanks Tom, love you!"

"Love you too, darling," Tommy murmured, not loud enough for her to hear, a full and genuine smile gracing his features.

Yep, he thought, his sister was definitely one of a kind, but he wouldn't change her for the world; and no matter what else he did, he refused to fail Y/N again.

[carewyncromwell]

Important question for future reference~

How does Erik think about Kids off his own? ��� and how would Care-bear react~?

[Whoop! You've activated awkward-turtle mode!

Erik tries to revert to what he's comfortable with -- A.K.A. using his mind WAY more than his heart so as to stay articulate.]

Erik: "(clears throat) ...Well, yes, erm...kids would certainly be...on the table, naturally. Provided Roxy is all right with it, and our work schedules are flexible enough, and our living arrangements are stable, and our financial situation is in proper order -- then, of course, we'd have a lot of planning to do, to prepare for any such child or children's arrival -- and before that, even just keeping Roxy comfortable: I gather that the whole pregnancy thing is kind of a pain in the arse, so I'd have to do some research about how best to help that way..."

[He says through a very, very thick flush.

Carewyn, meanwhile, is smiling -- she knows full well Erik wouldn't be acting like this if this was something he hadn't put a lot of thought into.]

Carewyn: "(gently) You could always ask my mum for advice -- she did a lot of research about parenting, while she was pregnant with Jacob. And you know Orion would be more than willing to help out too."

[Even just the display of sympathy seems to crack Erik's shell a bit.]

Erik: "(a bit more snarkily) You're sure the Tofu King will have time in his busy schedule chucking balls around to grant me an audience?"

[Carewyn giggles behind her hand.]

Carewyn: "I'm certain of it."

[She reaches out a hand and gives Erik's shoulder a squeeze.]

Carewyn: "Just as certain as I am that you will be a wonderful father."

[Something a bit warmer seems to flit through Erik's expression.]

Erik: "(mutters) ...Thanks, Ms. Cromwell."

((OOC: Simple answer -- Erik would overanalyze the hell out of the whole thing and would seemingly to some people's minds underreact to the news of Roxy's pregnancy, but only because he'd be burying himself in trying to find ways to be of use to her and the baby. What can I say, this boy is an INTJ!!))

Character Ask!

[chaoschaoswriting]

Building a Routine That Works (and Sticking to It)

For freelancers like me, learning to build a routine is essential... but that doesn't mean that we’re always good at it! The urge to overwork, or the incurable urge to procrastinate, can be incredibly powerful. Build a sold routine is just one of the ways in which people who work for themselves can ensure that they maintain a solid work-life balance and stay healthy. 

If you want a brief overview of how a routine can benefit you and the first big mistake that most newbies make, you can find it here. Likewise, if you want some ideas as to how you can use a period of lockdown/self-isolation to your benefit, I have a previous post about that. What we’re covering today, however, are the nuts and bolts of building a routine that can co-exist with your ‘normal’ day to day life. 

The Basics 

So, at risk of making myself sound like a condescending arse; a routine is defined as a set of actions which are taken regularly. In terms of life, that means things like walking the dogs, making dinner, brushing your teeth, etc. Most of us have some rudimentary form of routine, even if we don’t know it. This can be as simple as brushing your teeth and showering as soon as you wake up, and reading before bed. The trick is building a routine that incorporates more than just these basics. 

We’ve all seen it at work; your grandparents probably had specific days on which they cleaned the house, did the laundry, or went shopping. Those from regimented households may even be used to having the same meals on a rotating weekly or monthly basis. Too much regimentation is a bastard, of course, but having a routine that keeps all the most important parts of your life running smoothly is actually key to creativity. 

Here are some basics to consider before we get into the real content:

Reconsider Bedtime

Yes, really. 

I know you’re not a child, and I don’t care. 

Sleep deprivation is one of the most damaging states your body can exist in, and your alarm and ‘bedtime’ are some of the easiest things to set when creating a routine. First of all, be realistic. You’re not going to get up at 4am and go to bed at 7pm every day. Set something you can stick to more often than not, and be prepared for hiccups at first. 

What you’re doing is resetting your body clock, so it’s going to fight you at first. The most important thing is to push through; if you don’t get the right amount of sleep at first, keep getting up with your alarm and try not to nap. 

Obviously, this doesn't apply if you have medical conditions that mean you really need to take short naps often to be happy and functional. in this case, I would allow for naps. 

In fact, if you have the luxury of time, allow for naps anyway if that’s what you feel will help you best. Just set something you can stick to. 

Don’t Overschedule

Nothing kills a fledgeling routine quite like an overstuffed diary. Be realistic about what you can actually do on a daily basis. If you’re setting yourself up for 12-hour workdays... well, you’re going to lose some of the plates you’re spinning. 

Don’t Buy Into The Aesthetic

This site, in particular, is a fraught place when it comes to cultivating healthy habits. While it’s funny to recognise our own flaws, the idea that writers and artists are messy, disorganised, or incapable of working on demand is not true. Furthermore, sleep deprivation, poor diet, and untreated mental health problems are not ‘sexy’. I use that term in the early 2000s, Paris Hilton context of course. What I mean is that the image of the ‘starving artist’ or alcohol addled writer are by-products of cautionary tales, not career recommendations. 

There are plenty of things that can make it hard to work and stay organised. Executive dysfunction, depression, anxiety - these aren’t just buzzwords. They’re very real issues that many people cope with; if you’re fighting with things of this nature it’s important that you, first of all, know that you are not alone. Many of us are in the same boat. There is hope, however, if you focus on finding ways of working that suit you and help you to manage your personal situation as well as possible. 

Your routine should allow for things which help you to destress, decompress, and relax. In fact, it should centre around them in many ways. 

The Nitty-Gritty

Ok, so you’ve got the basics down. By this I mean, you know what time you have in any given day based on your desires wake-up and shut-down times.

1. Identify the Immediate Necessities;

Are there any things that must be done daily? By this I mean meds to take, dogs to walk and feed (any pets to take care of, actually), children to dress, etc? If so, they are your first priority. First thing in the morning is the only time when a one-size-fits-all approach can be applied to a routine. Every morning routine should include 5 key things. No matter who you are, these apply:

A) Go to the toilet. 

B) Brush your teeth. 

C) Groom/wash, e.g. wash your face, neck and hands, brush your hair, apply deodorant etc. 

D) Drink a glass of water (this is a good time to take your meds/vitamins etc)

E) Eat something (even if it’s just an apple or a slice of toast, give your body something to work with). 

What else you add here is based on your life and needs. You may need to feed and walk your dogs, clean out the cages of other pets, help family members. Whatever it is you need to do write it all down to get it straight in your head. 

Most people have fewer necessities to take care of at night unless they have children, pets, or other dependents. Sticking to these things is easy because they must be done daily. 

2. Spread the ‘Sometime’ Necessities; 

What am I talking about, here? 

Chores. Things like washing your clothes, washing your hair if that's a big job, sweeping, tidying, going to the gym. Things that you don’t need to do every day, but which should be done regularly for best effect. 

Try to set these things up on a weekly schedule, doing small amounts often. This may seem like a huge ask, but trust me it’s not. It’s funny how quickly washing clothes and dishes can be done when you’re dealing with a day or twos worth instead of three weeks worth. 

Here’s a handy break-down from a real live adult; 

Dishes; do them daily. I don’t care if it’s one mug, a single plate. The truth is that unless you make a huge meal for more than two people washing dishes takes ten minutes tops. If you do have a lot of cookware to clean and not a lot of time, compromise by washing your crockery immediately after use and letting pots/pans soak until evening. 

Laundry; do this once or twice a week depending on your drying arrangement. Fold it when it's dry trust me you’ll be glad you did later. 

Cleaning; once a week. Clean your bathroom, kitchen, and dust any other rooms regularly to make it a light job. 

Hoovering/Mopping; once a week, after you dust or clean. Do the floor in the room you've just cleaned. Some people like to do all their weekly cleaning on one day, while others prefer to do a room at a time throughout the week. It really depends on you, just do what works. 

Tidying; do it every day. All the time. Not to sound like your mother, but pick the fuck up after yourself. It’ll make your life so much easier. I speak as someone who has made the mistake of not doing it many times. 

3. The Good Stuff; 

Finally, we’re onto the bit you’re interested in. Once you have things like work, chores, and bodily needs handled, you can think about what you want to do regularly. Whether that means allowing an hour a day for painting, or two to three hours a night to write your book, there are hundreds of choices here. 

Once again don’t overschedule. 

As much as you may have a million things you want to do, your daily routine should consist of sustainable actions. Be honest about what matters most to you, and how much time you can devote to it. 

Sticking to Your Routine

The truth is that you probably won’t stick to the routine you decide on in theory. Why? Because life gets in the way, and we are prone to either over or underestimating what we can do. So, the most important thing is to be prepared to change your plan as needed and to persevere through the teething pains.  You can increase your chances of sticking to any routine by easing into it. 

Start by getting a handle on your sleeping arrangements. Keep going as you are for a week or two, but start adhering to your chosen bedtime and wake-up time. Feel it out - do you need to add a nap? Are you better in the morning - would it be better to wake up earlier, etc? 

As your sleep schedule starts to feel less like a chore and more like a habit, incorporate some necessary things like taking all of your meds (or those you can) with your first glass of water, or braiding long hair at night (another tidbit for you - doesn’t matter what kind of hair you have, braiding it at night is a good way to simplify your mornings). 

Once you have your daily routine under control start to work out how you want to deal with your chores and weekly responsibilities. This will be the hardest, but once you get into a rhythm you have to keep it for a few weeks before it becomes second-nature. Minimum.

Finally, look at what free time you have after all this is in place, and ask yourself how much of that you want to devote to things like music, painting, writing, martial arts, whatever it is that gives you joy. 

Et voila you have a routine!